#hurt not to be included i guess!? i mean this isn’t the first time i’ve had a friend openly go to an artist i love with someone who’s not me

[permanentreverie]

just a quick lil rant before i head to bed

[good-chimes]

THE H.T.G.Y. FILES

Project team notes: Vat growth stage has been successful. Please note project is titled Human Tactical Ground-unit Y (H.T.G.Y.) and this is the only designation that should be used. Lab technicians who continue to use slang term hotguy will be written up. 

Senior researcher CUB-135 has been called in to consult. Please give him access to all non-sensitive files.

+

[AUDIO TRANSCRIPT]

HTGY: Well, hello there!

CUB-135: Hi. How’s it, uh. How’s it going?

HTGY: How’s it going? Huh, that’s the first time someone’s asked me that. Wait a minute. I know that one. How’s it going. Oh, oh, I got it. It’s going great!

CUB-135: …Cool.

HTGY: Yeah. Yeah. Isn’t it great to be alive and awake? How’s it treating you?

CUB-135: It’s magnificent.

HTGY: [laughing] Magnificent. Oh, I like that. Who are you, my friend?

CUB-135: I’m a consultant. Cub-one-three-five. The project team dragged me in because I wrote the genome.

HTGY: Consultant…. So you’re the one who does their thinking for them, huh?

CUB-135: [surprised laugh] Yeah.

HTGY: Well, I’m telling you, they need it. Buncha people prodding me to see if I can stand up! You can just ask that, can’t you? A man’s gotta have space, Cub. A man’s gotta do things under his own steam.

CUB-135: Yeah, I guess. Yeah.

HTGY: [conspiratorial] Here’s a question. Got a lot of things in my head, Cub. The ol’ memory’s all messed up. I’m new, right?

CUB-135: You’re new. That’s right.

HTGY: I thought so! How new?

CUB-135: Uhh… three days? Three days and two hours.

HTGY: Thank you! Finally. Can’t get a straight answer out of anyone here.

CUB-135: …you want your genome notes?

HTGY: Boy, do I! What’s a genome?

CUB-135: Uh. Okay. Let’s see what we can do. I need some files. A lotta files.

+

[AUDIO TRANSCRIPT]

HTGY: Oh, we have to stop.

CUB-135: Yeah?

HTGY: That noise means I gotta be somewhere.

CUB-135: Mm.

HTGY: Just more prodding and check-ups, I guess. Can’t take long. Come back, okay? I'll be here, at least I guess I'll be here. I've been here all the time so far. Tomorrow?

CUB-135: …

CUB-135: Alright. Tomorrow.

+

DEATH COUNT: 1

+

Project team notes: First trial (subject vs two skeletons obtained from Lab 2E spawner) did not meet expectations. Subject (H.T.G.Y.) is slow to grasp the basics of hand-to-hand combat despite neural implants. Speed below benchmark. Precision poor. Regeneration not fast enough to alter outcome of combat.

Although a disappointing start to the project, there are promising leads in some areas. Combat abilities expected to improve through repetition. Deficiencies in combat conversely allow better collection of regeneration data.

Subject observation: when returned to room, subject spent six hours seated and unmoving. Scheduling next test for tomorrow.

+

[CUB-135 OBSERVATIONS]

note to self, find a way to phrase: ‘he was a project for faster injury regeneration, you fucking amateurs, nothing in that genome makes him magically good at fighting’ in a way that doesn’t include the phrase ‘you fucking amateurs’. difficult problem. 

going back in. this one will be less fun.

+

[AUDIO TRANSCRIPT]

HTGY: Hey, it’s Mister Does-The-Thinking! Cub, hey, Cub!

CUB-135: Hey.

HTGY: You’re looking serious today. What’s up?

CUB-135: I’m good. I’m good.

HTGY: That’s what I like to hear. Can’t have the big-brain guy down in the dumps.

CUB-135: How was yesterday?

HTGY: Ohhh. Yesterday, Cub, yesterday. I don’t think I’m that good at fighting. There were a lot of very unhelpful skeletons, Cub. A lot of them! Really mean! I think it’s going to be regular. I am not looking forward to that.

CUB-135: Mm.

HTGY: Any chance you can make it, y’know. Fewer monsters? They hurt.

CUB-135: Sorry, man. I don’t set the tests.

HTGY: Naw, I didn’t think so. You don’t look like a guy in charge.

CUB-135: Is that right?

HTGY: You’re just, you know [hand gesture] … laid back. I like that about you.

CUB-135: Uh.

HTGY: So. Cub. Cub, Cub, Cub.

CUB-135: …yeah?

HTGY: I’ve got this thing in my head. The sky.

CUB-135: The sky? Like… all of it?

HTGY: I dunno! You people put some pictures in my memories when you made me, I think. Horizons, clouds—I know they’re made of water, but how does that work? I saw a bit during the fight and it was kind of grey? Talk me through clouds, Cub. You’re good at explaining. And the rest of it! Where does it stop? What’s above it?

CUB-135: Oh, dude. Let me tell you… let me tell you about space.

+

To: +Team_Members_HTGY_Project

From: CUB-135

Y’all,

I looked at your trial notes. Project lead asked for my thoughts. My thoughts:

- inefficient; - could get the same regeneration data from tissue samples; - waste of skeletons.

You want to find another way. The combat unit thing was doomed from the start. If you want a supersoldier you should start over with a ravager.

have a real one,

Cub

+

Project team notes: One-month project milestone. Consultancy from CUB-135 has started to be more of a problem than an asset. Unfortunately he is the only one who understands how to process the regeneration data so assistance remains necessary for now. Upskilling of team analysts in progress.

Test continue. H.T.G.Y. has been given a variety of weapons and results range from abysmal (sword) to mediocre (bow). Subject has so far lost to every creature put in front of him. If the combat goals of this project are to be met, a better training regime will be needed.

On a separate note: great interest from sponsors in mid-combat regeneration data. A variety of tests has been requested.

+

New data storage links: EXPLOSION (creeper) – File CR93; FIRE BURN (wood) – File FR02; FIRE BURN (other) – File FR03; BLOOD LOSS – File IN20; VENOM – File VM07, UNCATEGORIZED – UN45-UN51.

+

DEATH COUNT: 23

+

[AUDIO TRANSCRIPT]

HTGY: You know what the problem is?

CUB-135: I can guess?

HTGY: I’m so bored.

CUB-135: Okay. Didn’t see that coming.

HTGY: I’m so bored. Honestly, I’m bored most of the time. Except when I’m getting killed, which isn’t great either. Or when you’re here—you know I appreciate you, Cub, you’re a great guy, don’t get me wrong. But you’re only around every couple of days, and it’s the bits in between.

CUB-135: Mm.

HTGY: Can’t you clone yourself, or something, and leave one here?

CUB-135: Nah, outside my specialism. Hm. You talked to Mumbo much? Mumbo’s always around.

HTGY: The lab system?

[null]: Hello. Can I answer a query?

HTGY: Oh, hi, Mumbo. Yeah, I’ve talked to Mumbo. But let’s be honest, he’s not much of one to start conversations. I can never think of things to ask.

[null]: What I can communicate to subjects on this level has been restricted by administrators.

HTGY: See?

CUB-135: Get him to show you… I dunno. Cat videos. Space stuff. Forests. They won’t have locked that down.

HTGY: Forests. Yeah! Okay. Mumbo?

[null]: I’m allowed to show pictures of forests. How’s this?

HTGY: Look at that. So green. So many trees! How close is that picture from here?

CUB-135: Kinda nearby, I think. Looks like a research shot from where they caught the spiders. Lots of the wild subjects in here came from close by.

HTGY: Amazing. Hey, Cub, can you get them to take me to a forest? Tree training! Beat the spiders in their own home!

CUB-135: Why not? I’ll ask.

HTGY: They’ll say no. But it’s good to think of it out there.

+

Project team notes: Six-month project milestone. Useful data continues to accumulate. HTGY has improved with bow and crossbow, and survival rate has risen to one in ten encounters.

Unfortunately, a new issue has arisen in subject cooperation. Most tests are set up to incentivize survival, making attitude irrelevant. However non-lethal tests require participation, which has previously been forthcoming from the subject, until yesterday when he refused to participate at all.

CUB-135 seems to have a rapport. Suggest he talks with subject to encourage better attitude. This would be the first useful thing CUB-135 has done in weeks.

+

DEATH COUNT: 97

+

[AUDIO TRANSCRIPT]

CUB-135: Hey. What’s up.

HTGY: Oh. Hey.

CUB-135: Not feeling it today?

HTGY: I knew it. I know why you’re here. I know why they sent you to talk to me.

CUB-135: Try me.

HTGY: It was a cat, Cub. I’ll take the fights. I’ll take the training machines, they break half the time anyway. I’ll take the spiders and the skeletons and the creepers and the fact I know way too much about what my bones look like. But I’m not shooting a cat! I don’t care if it’s safe target practice. I’m not doing it!

CUB-135: Yeah. Okay.

HTGY: …

CUB-135: So what do you wanna talk about today?

HTGY: You’re not gonna try and convince me?

CUB-135: Naw.

HTGY: Cub, I’m not shooting anything that’s not trying to kill me.

CUB-135: Yeah, I know.

HTGY: You know?

CUB-135: I read your test notes. I can guess.

HTGY: Aw, you read my test notes? You care! Don’t pretend you don’t, I can see through it.

CUB-135: What can I say. You’re an interesting guy.

HTGY: I knew it! Oh, hey, Cub, you know what? I came up with a new name for myself. What do you think—[dramatic hand gesture]—Scar.

CUB-135: …

HTGY: Cool, right?

CUB-135: Scar. Yeah. It’s cool.

+

Project team notes: CUB-135 entirely unhelpful. Schedule escalation meeting with bioprojects lead.

+

[message log start]

Lead (bioprojects): Well, you got what you originally wanted. You’re off the HTGY project.

cub-135: wait, what?

Lead (bioprojects): You’re no longer permitted in the labs on that level. I need you to turn in your badge for reprogramming.

cub-135: oh man

cub-135: here’s the thing

cub-135: i lost it

Lead (bioprojects): You lost your BADGE?

cub-135: yeah i’ve just been following people through the access doors

Lead (bioprojects): That’s against all policy. I don’t think that’s even possible. How do you get lunch?

cub-135: cheat code on the cash register. up up down down A B.

Lead (bioprojects): You’re not funny. Find your badge and turn it in to get your HTGY level access revoked.

cub-135: oh yeah. i’ll get to that.

Lead (bioprojects): You’re lucky you’re good at your job.

cub-135: just trying my best here, man

Lead (bioprojects): No interference. If the team complain to me about you again, you’re getting demoted to junior lab tech. Leave the project alone.

cub-135: sure boss.

cub-135: you got it.

[Lead(bioprojects) has disconnected]

+

Project Team Notes: Eight-month project milestone. Sponsors pleased with regeneration data. Two papers have been published to modest but positive reception.

After period of progress with HTGY’s survival rates in combat, improvement has levelled off. Subject appears to have less energy for reasons that are unclear. Random observational checks found subject watching cat videos at all hours of the day. Changes in diet and test structure have been tested to no effect. Rest time has been experimentally increased.

+

DEATH COUNT: 167

+

[AUDIO TRANSCRIPT]

HTGY: Hey, Cub! Long time no see!

Cub: Yeah, sorry, man. Some admin bullshit.

HTGY: Your badge looks different.

Cub: Made it myself. How’s the tests?

HTGY: Oh, let’s not talk about those. You know what, I actually decided I’m not going to remember something if it’s not worth it. All the fights are the same and they keep doing them. So! I’ve been thinking. Cub. Cub. I want a cat. Can I get a cat?

Cub: …

HTGY: Just a little one. I’ve seen some options. Mumbo has pictures. 

Cub: Dunno, dude. I can try. Might be tricky.

HTGY: [sigh] I guess you’re right. It…wouldn’t be happy, would it? Yeah. We can’t have that.

CUB: Sorry.

HTGY: No, no, it’s all right. I don’t want to make something unhappy. It was just a thought. 

CUB-135: What’s on the screen?

HTGY: [brightens up] Oh, this? Dude, I wanted to show you this! Mumbo has this drawing program where you can build houses. This is my idea for a forest house. I think you could do it with three kinds of wood and you could have, you know, all these trees over it. What do you think? I mean, I know we’ll never see a forest. But imagine it in your mind.

CUB: … You know what, my friend, you’re really something.

HTGY: Why thank you. You could say the same of yourself—come on, Cub, don’t be shy. Take the compliment!

CUB-135: I don’t—

[silence]

HTGY: Don’t what?

CUB-135: [abruptly] I dunno how much more I can take.

HTGY: …

CUB-135: I—what am I even doing? What are we doing? There’s nothing to change. There’s no way to change anything.

HTGY: … You could get me a cat.

CUB-135: I can’t! I can barely get around the access readers! I can’t even get into the project files! Ten years of research and I feel dumb, Scar, I could solve everything until I couldn’t. What would you do if you weren’t in here? Man, that’s such a stupid question. I don’t even know what I’d do if I wasn’t in here. My references are gonna be shot. Maybe I should have paid attention to something else, maybe I should have done anything else—

HTGY: I’d like to see some forests.

CUB-135: Huh?

HTGY: You said ‘what would I do’. I’d go and see some forests.

CUB-135: …

CUB-135: Forests, huh.

HTGY: Anyway, that’s not going to happen, so I guess we don’t want to waste time on it! They need you here. And you guys need me here. Right?

CUB-135: …

HTGY: Right, Cub-one-three-five?

CUB-135: Y’know something, Scar? Sometimes I think you do more thinking more than you let on.

HTGY: Huh? Naw. Why’s your badge gone red?

CUB-135: Oh shit. Shit. I gotta go.

+

[message log start]

cub-135: listen boss

cub-135: first you bump me off the HTGY project, and now i’ve just had my name taken off the ravager patent. that’s my own work.

cub-135: this keeps happening. it’s not okay.

Lead (bioprojects) : CUB-135, for the last time, this was what you signed up for.  It’s the same for all researchers. You have to put the time in while you move up the ladder.

Lead (bioprojects): Have you just noticed this is how the whole laboratory works?

cub-135: oh

cub-135: i’m noticing

cub-135: i’m noticing lots of things about this place

Lead (bioprojects): Good. If you have an issue, focus on your work and get promoted.

cub-135: yeah, see, actually

cub-135: if nothing changes, i’m going to leave. and i’ll take all my intellectual property with me.

Lead (bioprojects): Hah! Check your employment papers; you’re on a 10-year contract. It’s watertight. And even if you could get out of it, you’re banned from taking paper or data chips out of lab grounds.

cub-135: yeah?

cub-135: okay.

[cub-135 has disconnected]

+

[AUDIO TRANSCRIPT]

CUB-135: Hey. Scar. Scar.

HTGY: Cub! What’s with the doohickey? It—oh, wow. That just zapped the light. Amazing.

CUB-135: Mumbo, lock transcript.

[null]: Transcript locked.

CUB-135: Okay. So. I made this thing to hijack the redstone gate down by the Drowned spawners on Lab 3B. It screws up the signal so you can get through. There’s a reservoir behind it. I put in a bubble elevator that will take you up outside the walls. I’ve got to stay behind to take out the cameras while you do it. Then I’ll get out with the evening shift.

HTGY: Wait, so I just take this and run? What if they find out about you?

CUB-135: If you do that I’m screwed, man. So don’t tell them.

HTGY: Yeah?

CUB-135: …Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. You could turn me in.

[silence]

CUB-135: Maybe you should. Yeah, all right. I guess, just—oh.

HTGY: Relax! Anyone would think you’d never had a hug.

CUB-135: …

HTGY: My friend. My friend, we are going to see some forests.

+

[AUDIO TRANSCRIPT]

HTGY: The speed! The precision!

CUB-135: Whew. Man. You did nearly drown.

HTGY: What’s important here is that I didn’t, because I am an elite escape artist. And you got out too, so I guess we can share the title.

CUB-135: We’re not far enough to say that yet. I’d bet we’re still in range of the lab systems.

HTGY: Details, details.

CUB-135: You’re bleeding.

HTGY: Oh man, I know, that was from the last test. It doesn’t matter.

CUB-135: Give me that.

HTGY: Fussy! What are you, a grandpa? Ow.

CUB-135: If you don’t stop and let me fix it you’re going to lose that finger. And I can’t grow it again when we don’t have the redstone vats.

HTGY: You were never this fussy before.

CUB-135: Yeah, well. Who even did it?

HTGY: I don’t…

[silence]

HTGY: Huh. Cub, you know what, I don’t…remember.

HTGY: Hey, though. Who everything filed and stored like a nerd? Who needs all their memories where we’re going? We’re getting out! Onwards!

[silence]

HTGY: Cub. Cub.

HTGY: Don’t look like that.

HTGY: It wasn’t your fault.

[silence]

CUB-135: Scar, I dunno what I’m doing.

HTGY: I’ve never known what I’m doing.

CUB-135: [laughs] You are…something, my friend. You are something.

HTGY: We don’t know what we're doing. And that’s amazing. Because aren’t you excited to find out?

+

Author's note: Hey, thanks for reading to the end! There's a better formatted version of this on Ao3 under username glossyblue. I've got a lot of this au but thought this stood alone well enough that someone might enjoy it. Hope you enjoyed, have a great day.

[aiura-stan]

I love the idea that Teruhashi might be thinking this. (I know she isn’t Teruhashi, but still.) It’s so outright aggressive and mean, instead of her more low key “Saiki should be obsessed with me!” thoughts as in canon proper, lol.

Also notable that the first mention of Saiki being markedly different from other people is here: “If a normal person heard them he would undoubtedly have a mental breakdown after three seconds.” Maybe it’s true, probably an exaggeration on Saiki’s part, but it definitely highlights that what he deals with, mentally, is on another level, and he is able to deal with it.

LMAO. this one made me laugh… it’s like yikyak but worse!! like yikyak but including things people wouldn’t even say on there, read out loud… phewww.

Saiki says his powers are “in the wrong” rather than peoples’ thoughts. However, the way he words the second part about how you can’t dress up what’s on the inside strikes me as odd. I was trying to think of the reasoning behind this sort of sentiment that Saiki expresses here, because it repeats later in the manga proper. And I think, it boils down to this incorrect assumption he has, that people’s thoughts are their true feelings. My guess on where comes from is probably either Kuniharu or Kuusuke, who both express a lot of resentment for him. In each of their cases, that really is how they feel, and they make no effort to change it, and there’s not a lot of positive emotion thrown in there either. At least as a child, Kuusuke spent a lot of time actively trying to hurt his brother. And Kuniharu probably did too, if we take all of the examples of him trying to get “revenge” on Kusuo into account.

So it never occurs to him at first that people might have intrusive thoughts, or have thoughts they don’t necessarily believe pass through their heads, or thoughts they ultimately challenge and thoughts that directly contradict their behavior.

Okay angsty rant over lol

‘nother thing that strikes me as funny, not in a good way this time… really now. I have never met a girl who was that jealous of another girl’s boobs. If anything, I’ve met girls who got them too young and wished they hadn’t because of teasing.

Maybe it’s a cultural difference, maybe it’s the fact that a male author wrote this who doesn’t really know (or care) about accurately depicting teenage girls’ concerns in a comedy… anyways.

I beg to differ Saiki… that IS an incredible tattoo and I want to see it… I want that tattoo.. haha. And who cares if some people are bald?? and trans people exist?? Saiki likes to complain about things that do not matter at all. I guess he probably feels like it’s a burden to keep other people’s secrets, or something. He is just a teenager after all.

tbh I kind of wish that Asou had kept this if only for dramatic effect

come on… look at this…

Sigh. I love examples of Saiki interfering with fate just to help someone.

Okay, that’ll do it for part one of this post. Part two in a bit. 💕

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Okay, so this one has been eating at me for years and I FEEL like the asshole even though everyone involved has never expressed that they think I was an asshole. I’m terrified about what the consensus will be, and either way I should probably talk to a therapist about this now that I’ve typed it out. This one is mildly sexual but I won't include like, details of that or anything.

So basically, years ago I (20 F) was dating this guy (19 ftm) with a LOT of issues. When we first started dating, I mentioned that a lot of his issues really echoed a lot of what my mom went through when I was growing up, and that he should probably see a psychiatrist/therapist. Sure enough, turns out he’s bipolar too! We found out because the psychiatrist prescribed medication for depression that has a notoriously bad effect on bipolar folks. He started cycling rapidly and it was a lot of strain on a new relationship.

Here’s where the assholery begins. Basically, I went to visit him and his family for the first time, and we were up late that night. He was having a bit of a rollercoaster of a night. He’d been crying over something personal, and then we were laughing over a movie, and then things started to get heated. I was really kind of uncomfortable because of the wild swing of the night, and while I was into it, I knew he had a history of lying to sexual partners about his comfort with sex.

I told him over and over again over the previous months that if he didn’t want it I didn’t want to either. No one likes having sex with a partner that isn’t into it. This night though, I stopped him several times to ask him if he was sure. And at one point he asked me why I kept stopping things, and I told him because he’d had a lot of emotions that night and I didn’t want to take advantage of that.

He told me multiple times that he was fine and he was good. Fast forward several months and we’re at a party playing some question game or whatever. Someone asked me about the best sex I’d ever had, and I mentioned that night because it WAS good. That’s when my partner turns to me and says he has NO MEMORY OF THAT NIGHT AT ALL. Like he’d been so out of his mind that he’d disassociated the whole night and doesn’t remember even being there, let alone sleeping with me. I mean, it sucks bad enough that he said this in front of all of our friends. He made a joke about “your best sex was during your partners mental breakdown lol.” We were ALL super uncomfortable for the rest of the night. Now, years later I still think about how horrific it is in hindsight.

Safe, SANE, and consensual right? On one hand, I know I’m not a mind reader and had no idea he was so out of it that night. But also, I knew he has lied to partners about his own comfort with sex before and I should have stopped him there. We’re no contact now, and I’m really glad to be out of that relationship for a whole host of reasons, but I still feel like there should have been some sort of sign or something I should have picked up on that would have stopped that from happening. I feel a little violated? Like not just physically but also like he really violated my trust that he would express himself maturely and make responsible sexual decisions.

He’s never said anything to me about being upset with the way things turned out. He’s never expressed hurt or that he thinks I was in the wrong. But there’s just something about this whole situation that makes me feel like I did something irreversibly terrible to someone else. So I guess I have to ask. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[tweetsongs]

the wildest tattoo story i’ve ever heard. transcript below cut.

Anthony: Hi I’m Anthony Burch, your Daddymaster-

Freddie: Hi dad

Anthony: Uh, y’all played the Yakuza games? [chorus of agreement] Yeah, okay, so- I’m gonna- this isn’t gonna work so well for the podcast we’re doing. I’m gonna stand up, and then somebody just insult me.

Beth: He’s wearing a dress shirt that’s kind of nice with sweatpants-

Freddie in the background: Oh my god

Beth: So I don’t know where this is going-

Will: What is happening?

Beth: And now he’s unbuttoning his shirt-

Will (overlapping): Hey Anthony, you suck. (overlapping with Freddie) WHAT!

[exclaimations of shock]

Will: He’s got a back tattoo! It’s- it’s bitching as hell!

Beth: A fullass back tattoo, I’m never insulting this man again EVERRRR

Matt: Wait, is that a temporary tattoo?

Anthony: No it’s real

Beth: No it’s real

Matt: I mean, a temporary tattoo is real, it’s just temporary- [unintelligible behind background laughter]

Anthony: I guess mine’s temporary in the fact that I’ll die eventually, but no-

Will: What on earth- what is it? [overlapping with others] what is it? Draw a picture for our listening audience at home

Anthony: So it is a Yakuza style back tattoo. It is not complete or colored in yet, and the lower third is missing, but it's the first three cats I have instead of, like, a dragon or a fucking samurai or something cool, it's just my three cats, like, hanging out, but in Yakuza style, and it wasn't supposed to be like this. [over confused exclaimations] So I went in, and the plan was-

Matt: I mean, that's a lot for not to be-

Anthony: I KNOW.

Beth: Can I redo the [unintelligable]? This is why we all knew. This is why we all knew.

Matt: Also I’m changing the fact to that Anthony Burch is the most popular guy at school. Because he has a fucking cool tattoo

[laughter and agreement in background]

Anthony: This is a story about me being mentally not as great as I thought I was. So I went in and was like, I finally found the thing I want to do, which is a big Yakuza style tattoo of my cats because I love my cats so much. But I don't like pain, so what if you could design a tattoo for me that was, like, a three part thing, and we'll just do one part that stands on its own, and if I can handle the pain, we'll finish the rest of it?

Will softly in the background: What the fuck?

Anthony: And he went, Absolutely. And then a couple of weeks went by, and then he forgot that part and went: ‘Cool. I finished the tattoo,’ and he showed me the design, and A) I didn't like it that much, and B) it was so big- [soft ‘oh, no’ in the background] it was my whole back. In my head, I went, this is the moment. This is where you can decide to stand up for yourself and occupy the smallest amount of space a human being possibly can in the world and say, actually, we talked about it being small, or actually, I would like it if you change certain elements of the design. And I thought about that very hard for about 45 seconds, and I said, that looks perfect, let's do it.

Freddie: WHAT?

Will: This is the biggest, if not, no worries I've ever heard of in my life.

Anthony, over sounds of horror: Yeah. It’s- yeah. And so I laid on my stomach for 3 hours, and he did the most painful thing I have ever experienced in my life, including getting my butthole and ding dong waxed, the entire time being like, it would be cool if I was an adult. It would be cool if I was capable of asking for, like- I now know if I go to a restaurant and somebody just hands me a plate of shit, I'll go, that's vegan, baby. And then not complain or send it back, apparently.

Matt: Have you grown to like it?

Anthony: No. [shocked and horrified exclamations from others] It hurt a lot! No, I mean, it looks good. I mean, I just got it here. I literally just got it today.

Beth: I think it looks killer

Will: It looks badass

Anthony: Yeah, it's not done yet. I'm sure it's looking good, but I have to go back and get more stuff done. All my friends who have tattoos were like, no, it's cool, like, at a certain point, it hurts so much you get adrenaline or you get endorphins or any of this kind of stuff.

Freddie: I’ve never bought that

Anthony: Nope! It didn't happen to me. Turns out, At least not on your back, because your back is close to your spine, so you get nerves. And so I could feel the needle vibrating against my fucking bones on my back. Felt like somebody with a box cutter attached to a fucking vibrating wand just dragging it across my back.

Matt: I think in support of Anthony, we should all get back tattoos of his cats- [laughter] All four of us.

Beth: We should all get back tattoos of Anthony.

Anthony: Don’t do that

Beth: I’m gonna do it

Freddie: We were just talking about that-

Matt: We all get back tattoos of Anthony getting a back tattoo

Beth: Yes

[laughter]

Anthony: When I was there, I said, like, a full back tattoo or whatever, and some guy in the other room

Freddie: ‘OR WHATEVER?’

Anthony: Yeah, yeah, and some guy in the other room was like, ‘oo that's the right move.‘ And I was like, Cool, that must be because it's a good for beginners thing

Will, pained: Wha-

Anthony: And then as it was happening, the tattoo artist was like, you're handling this pretty well. This is, like, one of the most painful places you can possibly get tattooed.

Beth: Oh, my God.

Anthony: And I was like, Okay, cool. That's good to know.

Beth: I want you to know that I see you, and that I would probably do the same thing, so.

Anthony: Yeah. Like, tattoos come and go, being awkward is somebody’s forever

[music riff fades out]

[amethystina]

The Devil Judge Meta: The Bus Scene

Hello and welcome to the chaos.

So, ever since I first saw this drama, I've been OBSESSED with the bus scene for how beautifully it establishes a lot of core traits for both Yo Han and Ga On's personalities. It is, quite simply, a masterpiece. And so, since I've got nothing better to do (*cough, cough*) here's a rambling meta where I scream about it, simply because I can and want to.

Disclaimer: This is by no means a COMPLETE meta of this scene. I will only be focusing on the characters and not, say, the cinematography. And even then I won't include every single detail. I mostly want to gush about how wonderfully this scene takes on the challenge of showing two characters' different personalities through their actions and reactions alone. Don't come at me if I don't talk about everything that makes this scene cool. Also, obviously, these observations are just my opinions and I don't expect everyone to agree. I'm just having fun yelling about characters I like.

Second Disclaimer: I was left unsupervised with Photoshop while having a fever. I take no responsibility for the resulting screenshots.

More under the cut!

And brace yourselves — it's hella long.

Let's just jump right into the action! (mainly because the build-up isn't all that interesting)

The moment the situation becomes clear to Ga On — i.e. that the little girl is in terrible danger — this is his immediate reaction:

Good boy.

I mean, at this point, it's not even a particularly risky decision. The bus is still pretty far away so he should have enough time to grab the girl and run out of there. No biggie. And, clearly, the soldiers aren't going to be doing anything to help her, so it's understandable that Ga On takes it upon himself to do so. SOMEONE has to.

And this is a very good example of Ga On's problem-solving in action. His main priority is saving the victims and his method of choice — run over and grab the girl himself — may be simple, but also very straightforward and effective. It gives an immediate and tangible result. It's a bit impulsive, sure, since he's potentially putting himself in danger, but it also shows his selflessness and sincerity. He doesn't even HESITATE before he starts running since Ga On's problem-solving is very instinctual.

He's a man of action who doesn't waste time on second guesses, doubts, or plans. He sees a situation and intervenes with the method that occurs to him at the time.

So he's a quick thinker, definitely, but he also doesn't have much of a strategy outside of "save the girl." The scope of his solution is narrow, focusing more on rescuing the one in immediate danger rather than defusing the situation. That doesn't mean he's BAD at solving problems — he's actually very clever and reacts and adapts impressively fast — just that he's got a very specific goal in mind and the solution he chooses is usually decided by that goal.

In a tight spot, Ga On's main focus is pretty much always to rescue the victims (or innocents, if you prefer) rather than neutralising or stopping the threat. He is, first and foremost, a protector and saviour.

Which is very noble and heroic. We love that for him.

And Ga On's day would probably have gone a lot better if life hadn't decided to throw a Yo Han-shaped wrench into his reckless but well-meaning plans. Because, WOW, do their respective problem-solving tactics clash.

Case in point:

This shot (aside from being very pretty) is a SPECTACULAR glimpse into Yo Han's mindset and POV. The focus is on the bus — the threat — but we can also clearly tell that, should Ga On try to rise, he and the girl might end up getting shot. There are innocents in between Yo Han and his target — innocents who might get hurt should Yo Han proceed with his planned actions.

And Yo Han still fires.

Which is why I totally don't blame Ga On for making this face:

Like, Ga On later criticises Yo Han for being willing to risk the bus driver's life, but let's not forget that Yo Han was also willing to send a bullet flying over Ga On's head without hesitation. Just as Ga On was about to straighten, no less. That's risky as all hell.

And that brings us to Yo Han's problem-solving.

Unlike Ga On, Yo Han focuses on stopping the bus rather than protecting the victims — he even puts them in MORE danger by firing the gun with them in the crossfire. Which may seem even more reckless than Ga On's method at first glance, if it wasn't for this:

Yo Han is perfectly calm.

Despite the pressure of the situation, he handles it with a cold, almost detached, precision. A precision that probably comes from the fact that he's already assessed how the situation will unfold and how he has to act in order to change its course. As he points out later, the bus would have kept going forward if it hadn't been stopped and, even if Ga On and the girl had managed to run away, there's a potential for countless more victims — soldiers, bystanders, and other employees at the Supreme Court. In neutralising the threat, he saves more lives.

In a sense, this can also be seen as punishing the instigator, as opposed to Ga On's choice of protecting innocents. As Yo Han later admits, he's willing to sacrifice one life to save many — especially when that someone is a bad person.

While Yo Han's actions are undoubtedly ruthless, he also has a wider scope of the situation than Ga On, to the point where they don't even view it the same. To Ga On, the girl getting run over is the problem that needs to be solved. In contrast, to Yo Han, the problem that should be solved is the speeding bus, which, if not stopped, will result in the girl getting run over.

This is why, instead of allowing Ga On and the girl time to run away, Yo Han doesn't lower the gun.

He's there to solve a problem and the speeding bus is the problem, not Ga On or the girl's possible fate. And with such a different core grasp of the situation, it's no wonder their respective solutions clash.

They're trying to solve two completely different problems.

Complete Sidetrack: I've seen some people criticise the realism of this scene because Ga On doesn't try to take the girl and run despite having many chances to do so, but I would argue that the biggest flaw in the realism is the preschool teacher. You're telling me that woman WOULDN'T turn back and try to save that child herself? Has the writer of this show even MET a preschool teacher? That girl is her responsibility! She wouldn't just leave her!

And sure, the woman has other children to take care of, but they're safely across the road already. She can order them to stay put and then run back. I think the only logical reason why she wouldn't is if someone is physically restraining her.

… or if the creators simply wanted a cool scene (that I admit to loving) and didn't really care if they misrepresented this poor woman. Justice for the preschool teacher!

ANYWAY. I DIGRESS.

I LOVE Ga On's face when he realises what just happened and that Yo Han is far from finished.

Because Yo Han more or less holds Ga On and the little girl hostage. Which says quite a lot about his ruthlessness AND his confidence. Yo Han is clearly convinced that his method is the right one — that his aim is good enough to take the risk — and doesn't even give Ga On the option to protest. He literally holds Ga On at gunpoint and forces him to abandon his solution of grabbing the girl and running in favour of Yo Han's plan of stopping the bus. Basically, if Ga On wants to come out of this alive, he'll have to bend to Yo Han's will.

Foreshadowing much?

Like, short of trying to ROLL out of the line of fire, there's not much Ga On can do if he wants to avoid getting himself or the girl shot. He has NO idea when Yo Han might pull the trigger again or exactly where he is aiming.

And, well, as we see here, Ga On is clearly making the right choice by staying put. YIKES, Yo Han.

And this highlights another aspect of Yo Han, which is his arrogance.

We've established that stopping the bus will most likely result in saving more lives, but there was nothing wrong with Ga On's initial response to the situation. Ga On and the girl would have been completely fine if Yo Han hadn't shown up when he did — or had simply chosen to wait a couple of seconds longer before firing the first shot.

Except Yo Han is so certain of his own abilities that he completely ignores what everyone else might be trying to do to solve the situation, to the point where he doesn't even care if he RUINS those efforts. He's already convinced his plan is better. So he essentially steps in and wrenches control away from everyone else — including Ga On — and the consequences could have been catastrophic, especially since he doesn't communicate with the others involved.

And if that isn’t Yo Han in a nutshell, I don't know what is.

Yo Han has no faith in anyone's plans but his own and will pursue them with a single-mindedness that's both alarming and kind of impressive.

If you want something done, do it yourself, I guess?

In some ways, Yo Han even CREATED this situation, with Ga On and the girl remaining in the bus's path. He could easily have let them run off first, but didn’t because he's so convinced he's doing what's best.

Then again, I guess we wouldn't have this shot if he had:

I appreciate your dedication to being a protector, Ga On, but I don't think that's going to make much of a difference.

And this thing, where Yo Han's arrogance and actions are the direct cause for the complications they face, repeats a couple of times in the drama. Sometimes it's because he's stirred up so much shit that people get desperate and, a couple of times, it's because he's underestimated his opponents. And, sometimes, it even seems like it's just out of sheer curiosity, because he wants to see what will happen.

Like how he gets kidnapped and drugged by Sun Ah because he went off the meet her alone in a goddamn shipyard, or how he underestimated what Cha Kyung Hee would do if he pushed her into a corner, and how Sun Ah would never have tried to have Ga On beaten up in the slums if Yo Han hadn't paraded him around like his lovely little househusband, making it blatantly obvious how much he cares about him (which, I will admit, it another favourite scene of mine).

While Yo Han is definitely a good problem solver, he also CAUSES a lot of problems, both for himself and others. The part that I like about that, however — and what sets him apart from a lot of other characters in media — is that he's AWARE of the risks. He's not foolishly making reckless decisions that put him in danger (unlike someone else we know) but simply deems the risks to be worth the endgame. The risks Yo Han takes are calculated and, for better or worse, he's frighteningly good at maths.

But that only makes him seem more ruthless. Since no one else can see his calculations, it can be difficult to follow his logic, even more so since his values and morals are what they are (that's to say: OPTIONAL).

All of that said, while Yo Han is arrogant and very determined to be the one in control, he doesn't do it to show off or brag. He's used to being if not the smartest person in the room, then at least the most efficient one. He, too, is a man of action who will get things done smoothly and efficiently, no matter the cost.

And I do love this moment right here, just after the bus has only narrowly missed Ga On and the girl:

They could have made him look smug — or even pleased — but they didn't. He remains calm and focused because, again, it's not about the glory. Just like his revenge plan, it's all about the mission — the result. He does what he has to in order to reach his goal, simple as that.

While Yo Han definitely carries a lot of intense emotions (some that he should probably talk to a therapist about) he is also incredibly goal-oriented, to the point where he doesn't let his emotions sway his decisions very often. More often than not, if Yo Han does something, it's because he has a plan — a goal or something he wants to accomplish. And he will pursue that goal without hesitation.

But that also means he doesn't really care about who he has to step over in order to get there — including victims and innocents.

Meanwhile, Ga On:

Showing care and concern in a situation like this is pretty natural, I'd say, especially for someone as compassionate as Ga On. OF COURSE he would take the time to make sure the little girl is okay!

Ga On is such a good boy <3

And here's another difference between Yo Han and Ga On, since Yo Han makes no such effort. Which I wouldn't necessarily say means that Yo Han doesn't care, but rather that he doesn't bother to ask for verbal confirmation of something he can clearly see with his own eyes. They weren't hit by the bus so they should be fine. Nevermind possible shock or trauma — that’s definitely not Yo Han’s problem.

The difference IS pretty unsettling, anyway, and we get this shot (which I love):

It's not even particularly long, but the fact that they lock eyes after such a traumatic event and THAT is the face Yo Han makes is… yeah. Say what you will about Ga On and his habit of jumping to conclusions, but I can't really blame him for wondering if Yo Han is a psychopath.

And that's another beauty of this entire scene, since not only does it tell us, the viewers, about these characters, but it also serves as a moment for Ga On to realise what kind of man his new boss actually is. That's to say, someone who doesn't hesitate to shoot despite innocents being in the way, but also chastises the soldiers for not having the guts to do it themselves.

Also, I know I said I wouldn't focus on cinematography, but I just want to point out how beautiful these two shots are:

With Ga On and the girl — the victims, for all intents and purposes — framed by the soldier and Yo Han, which soon shifts into this:

With Yo Han moving to COMPLETELY cover them. It's not only gorgeous from a visual and storytelling perspective, but you can also have a field day analysing what that might mean from a character and symbolic perspective.

But that's another meta, I guess.

Back to the wide-eyed deer Ga On.

For someone as caring as Ga On, Yo Han's behaviour — and lack of compassion — is clearly quite upsetting. For which I honestly can't blame him. A lot of Yo Han's actions up until this point can be explained away as a superior trying to take action and protect his employees, but Yo Han chastising the soldiers for not firing sooner? Yeah, not so much. That is COLD, especially coming from a man who’s in a position of power over practically everyone else at the scene.

Because that's also something to remember: Yo Han doesn't just have power because he forcibly takes command, he also has a lot of authority due to his position.

A position he doesn't hesitate to abuse at points.

And, if we try to view this from Ga On's perspective, that shit is not only upsetting but downright TERRIFYING. Who wants to work for a cold and heartless dictator?

Anyway, back to Ga On being A Good Boy™.

His protective instincts are once again brought back into focus as he rushes to save the bus driver. Like with the girl, he doesn't hesitate, even if he is, once again, putting himself in danger. Saving people is instinctual to him and it doesn't matter who they are — Ga On values lives equally.

… well, until they hurt someone he cares about — then he's Down To Murder.

But that, too, is another meta entirely.

Anyway, Ga On's protectiveness is clearly one of the cornerstones of his character. Not only is he very heroic (though he'd certainly never use that word), but he's also a good caretaker and a very compassionate human being in general.

Meanwhile, Mr. Abyss over here:

Yo Han makes no effort to help Ga On, neither personally nor by sending soldiers to aid him. And while that only serves to make Yo Han seem even more cold and unconcerned, it also makes complete sense considering what we established earlier. Because sending the soldiers to help would only put them at risk as well, should the bus explode before everyone can make it clear. Again, Yo Han chooses the option that will cause less damage and put fewer people at risk (hilariously), even if that means he's willing to forsake the lives currently in danger.

It's simple arithmetic, just like with the driver.

And, well, since he DOESN'T move, we also get this glorious shot:

Everyone else ducks down or gets thrown off their feet, meanwhile, Yo Han just raises a hand to shield his face — as if a wholeass bus exploding is just a mild inconvenience to him.

10/10, Very Impressive. Very Extra.

HOWEVER, after this comes a brief but very fascinating moment, when the fire is roaming and Yo Han's gaze (presumably) lands on Ga On.

During a couple of seconds, Yo Han seems to zone out, just blankly staring. It's the most unfocused he's been during this entire scene and I don't think it's a coincidence that the moment involves fire and Ga On (i.e. Isaac 2.0 – Sugar Baby Edition).

This is a moment that probably won't stand out all that much during a first watch, but holds a lot more meaning once you know Yo Han's backstory. It's an interesting glimpse into something like humanity — and weakness — from Yo Han. And I'm pretty sure it's intentional that most people are too panicked and/or disoriented to notice. While Ga On learns a lot about Yo Han in this scene, this moment — this particular thread, with Yo Han's trauma — is still too early to pull on. It's not until later that Ga On begins to see Yo Han's humanity.

This moment is for US, the viewers, more so than the other characters.

Anyway, in true Yo Han fashion, he's soon back to his regularly scheduled shenanigans.

He still makes no effort to help Ga On or the bus driver, instead settling for a little tilt of his head that could be disapproval, could be approval, or just acceptance of how the last couple of minutes played out. They were, after all, minutes during which Yo Han made no attempt to wrestle control from Ga On, letting him attempt to save the bus driver without intervention. I wouldn't call it an outright test, but it's definitely a moment during which Yo Han waited and watched rather keenly.

Because, naturally, Yo Han is learning about Ga On, too, just like Ga On is learning about him. They're two very observant people and each action and reaction helps them start outlining the other's personality. Yo Han, in particular, has a good reason for cataloguing Ga On's behaviour and reactions, since it'll help him gauge if Ga On will be a hindrance or an asset to his revenge scheme.

And while I don't think that Yo Han is particularly impressed by what Ga On did — it was impulsive and reckless, and Yo Han clearly doesn't care much for heroics — it DID give results. And Yo Han is all about the results. If nothing else, he learned that Ga On is both stubborn and compassionate.

The latter isn't very useful to Yo Han, but the former certainly is. And I have no doubt that he's filing that information away for later.

And, hilariously, this is the point where Yo Han does ANOTHER very Yo Han thing:

Despite being the man with the highest authority at the scene — i.e. the one who should arguably step in, take command, and deal with the aftermath — Yo Han simply turns around and leaves. Once the threat has been handled, he sees no point in staying since his purpose was never to protect or help the people involved — it was to solve a problem.

And since the bus has now been stopped, the problem is solved.

The fact that he also made it explode is clearly not his problem.

He doesn't care about the fallout, even when he's the direct cause. This returns time and time again, where Yo Han is fully prepared to stir shit up, but rarely stays long enough to deal with the consequences. Most notably in the last episode, when he dumps the burn crisp of a judicial system in Ga On's lap and tells him to fix what he broke.

Which is HILARIOUS.

But, honestly, also very reasonable. Say what you will about Yo Han (and I do — very often) but he's a man who knows himself, his strengths, and his abilities incredibly well. And he holds no illusions about being a nurturing person. His strength lies in analysing situations, solving problems, and, for lack of a better term, Fuck Shit Up. He's the wrecking ball — the unstoppable force of nature — not one of the helpers who come after to build it all back up again, better and shinier.

That kind of job is definitely better suited for Ga On, who's kind, compassionate, and driven.

So while it is very irresponsible for the man in charge to just leave in a situation like this, it probably makes sense to Yo Han. Why waste time on something he has no interest in and, in some ways, isn't even particularly good at?

(also, it makes him look WAY cooler if he walks away with that fire burning in the background, I guess, which might also be a factor)

Unsurprisingly, it makes less sense to Ga On who, the moment he starts regaining his bearing, looks up and tries to find Yo Han.

And while I AM tempted to make a joke about always looking for your crush first after a dangerous situation, we all know it’s way too early for that here. No, Ga On looks up partly to see if anyone else has gotten hurt but, also, to look for guidance. It IS Yo Han's responsibility to handle this situation and Ga On is well within his right to expect that of his boss.

Except Yo Han isn't there.

Boss of the Year, this one.

And not only does that convey to Ga On that Yo Han is unpredictable, but also, to some extent, UNRELIABLE. Someone cold and uncaring — someone not to be trusted to uphold his end of the bargain. Someone who causes a lot of damage, but will leave it to others to mend the wounds.

And, clearly, Ga On is VERY disappointed.

In short, Yo Han doesn't really make a good first OR second impression on Ga On. Though I would argue that Yo Han couldn't care less about that, which probably only makes Ga On MORE frustrated, since he's clearly more of a traditionalist, who believes in being polite, accommodating, and taking responsibility. And while Yo Han has no trouble taking responsibility in certain regards — like admitting that he was willing to kill the bus driver if he had to — it's not in the considerate, altruistic way that Ga On no doubt would prefer to see in a superior.

Yo Han doesn't give a flying fuck about propriety and politeness, and when he's being a good boss or kind to strangers, it's usually performative.

Which, again, is why I don't blame Ga On for wondering just what kind of person Yo Han is. Even just in this one scene, Yo Han doesn't exactly come across as very sympathetic. Cool, efficient, and ruthless as fuck, sure, but definitely not the kind of guy you want to be working with. Which is only made all the more obvious when it's put next to Ga On's somewhat reckless but ultimately well-meaning and selfless acts of compassion.

I wouldn't go so far as to say that they're each other's opposites, but this scene goes a long way to show the differences in Ga On and Yo Han's personalities, mindsets, and values. And it doesn't necessarily take sides or try to tell you which is better, just that they're different. Both have pros and cons.

Ga On is kind, caring, and will do whatever it takes to protect innocents, but that also makes him reckless and unpredictable.

Yo Han is calm, efficient, and always has a carefully calculated plan, but that also makes him cold and ruthless.

All of this from one single scene.

They learn so much about each other — and we about them — in this one scene that you don't really need much more to understand just how violently these two opposing forces are going clash as the drama progresses. This scene is MARVELLOUS.

Even more so since they don't speak a WORD to each other.

They talk to side characters, but not each other and still, SOMEHOW, this one scene contains so much information — so much TENSION — that you can cut it with a knife. This, even more so than their first meeting, is where the foundation for their relationship is laid and they manage to do it entirely through actions and reactions.

These two will be the death of me, I swear.

In conclusion: FUCK YES I LOVE THIS DRAMA.

You can pry it from my cold, dead hands.

End of meta.

[menalez]

I hate the way you are being treated for experiencing trauma and sexual abuse, no survivor deserves this including you. I acknowledge you have incredible grace in dealing with this but more importantly you shouldn’t have to, it’s not right to put a survivor in this situation and constantly triggering their trauma no matter what you think about them. I have had similar experiences with CSA and ongoing SA after and I can’t imagine how I would deal with being picked apart like you have been. I don’t care what grievances these people have with you, if they actually supported survivors they wouldn’t react in this way to you (also I fully believe you about your experiences and about your sexuality if that isn’t clear). It sickens me to see people saying they fight for women’s rights treat you like this. If we can’t support our fellow women what’s the point? I know not all women have the same opinions and politics but it’s seems very basic to me to not harass a survivor of these things. The least they could do is shut up and leave you alone. I honestly don’t know how you can deal with this, I know if it was directed at me I would’ve either fallen deeper into CPTSD or gone offline entirely or both. I am glad you have the strength to continue though bc I think your perspective on many issues is difficult to find and deeply important to hear. I guess I don’t know what I mean with this message other than thank you for what you do and please do not let these awful people take you back into that horrible place that I think all survivors know. Your voice is so important and I hope to continue hearing it, you make change being outspoken. I know we can’t control being triggered and sometimes can’t regulate our responses but I hope that you can block these people and be as unbothered as is possible. Other survivors see you, I see you, I know we are in some ways the same and these people clearly cannot conceive of being in our position

it’s not right to put a survivor in this situation and constantly triggering their trauma no matter what you think about them.

i keep saying this but it just falls on deaf ears!

in terms of how i deal with this… ive said this before & was mocked for it but this has triggered my PTSD several times. i almost always end up having nightmares for weeks afterwards, more flashbacks, and perhaps a mental breakdown or two followed by a long period of dissociation. when i brought up how deeply hurtful it is and how much it triggers me, i end up getting mocked & accused of guilt tripping.

so basically, i’m not allowed to respond to assumptions made about my trauma bc it’s traumadumping. i’m not allowed to talk about the negative impact being harassed over my trauma by these ppl has bc it’s guilt tripping. they have the right to say vile things like saying i’m a “retired ho” (for having a trauma response like hypersexuality as a child and being sexually abused????) and saying that me reacting in a common way CSA victims react to rape a decade ago makes me bipolar or histrionic (love being called a hysterical slut for having a normal reaction to facing rape as my first sexual experience) but i have no right to correct these assumptions at all. it always ends up with several of them harassing me on & off anon, and other people just silently watching. once these ppl leave like they always inevitably do, then radblr starts talking about how horrible these ppl are & often will even harass me over these ppl’s presence as well! idk. it’s a constant lose-lose for me.

anyways… thank u for ur sweet msg ❤️ many other CSA survivours & rape survivours have reached out to me and told me that me talking about my story made them feel less crazy/alone bc they also have a similar story. many are lesbians who face an additional trauma & disgust & shame bc they see how trauma similar to their own is misconstrued & talked about. i’m glad at least that from this persistent harassment i’ve been experiencing for like 5 years now, women with similar stories reached out to me. it made me feel less alone and more understood. i try not to let all this stuff affect me & have been taking breaks online and/or talking to my gf whenever it does take a toll on me. it doesn’t fix it but it helps. some of it is unavoidable bc no matter how many anons i block, i keep getting msgs about it regardless and new blogs keep being made to discuss it

[theredmaynefiles]

My Story: A Journey of Loss & Depression

Let me start by saying this isn't a blog about Eddie. I'm not sure why I'm even posting this here, except that for the longest time, I've needed some sort of outlet for some of the things I'm struggling with... and as this is my only blog, I guess this is it. Maybe someone out there will read this & be able to relate. Maybe it will help explain why my blog on Eddie has gone largely silent. Or maybe no one will even notice. Whatever. I need to get this out.

So first of all, hey there, I'm Marci. You know me as an Eddie Redmayne blogger, but I'm also a mom to a son who has ASD & a person who has dealt with what seems - to me, at least - to have been a lot of crap to cope with over the past 8 years. And I've reached a point where coping is more like just existing but more on that in a bit. Maybe.

My dad was always the strongest person I've ever known. He wasn't perfect, but he was one of those dads that could fix anything & always knew the answers to anything you want to know. In October 2013, my dad was diagnosed with cancer - specifically non-Hodgkins lymphoma. My family wasn't new to this particular diagnosis, as my brother, Jeff, was diagnosed with the same cancer in 1999. At this point, Jeff was considered in remission after successfully completing chemo & radiation treatment. So we thought we knew what to expect. Thing is, dad's cancer was in his stomach (my brother's started in his neck) & it was extremely aggressive. I became my father's caregiver. Besides cancer, he was diabetic & dealing with kidney failure. We saw doctors 3-5 times a week for the next year+. My dad went through 3 different types of chemo, including one clinical trial. None of it made any difference, and the cancer continued to spread. In January 2015, he was put on hospice, & in May 2015, my dad died. I wasn't entirely unprepared for this - I mean he was on hospice, & I've worked at a hospital & nursing home, & seen how this sort of things goes many times, but seeing it happen to your own dad - & someone who was so freaking strong - was really rough. It was a horrible experience.

After dad passed, a lot of things changed. Jake & I moved into a house my dad had left us, leaving my mom (with whom I'd always had a very complicated relationship, to say the least) on her own. In late 2016, while watching 'Fantastic Beasts', Jake suddenly exclaimed, "Mom, Newt is autistic like me!" It caught my interest, & my blog was born of it. For the next year & a half or so, it was an amazing creative outlet for me. Eddie is an incredibly talented actor & a truly kind-hearted human being, who actually makes it a point to connect with his fans. I've spoken to him a few times during the fan interviews, & he even wrote me a letter during the pandemic, which was both shocking & awesome. To be honest, though, the best thing about my blog was meeting Charlotte, AKA @bespokeredmayne, who has become one of my dearest friends, & is an amazing person in her own right. (total shout out there!)

My mom didn't cope well with my dad’s passing, & in March 2018, she had a stroke. She died less than a month later. I've already said we had a complicated relationship - without going into that much more, my mom was a narcissist who enjoyed hurting people. My feelings about her are still not great, even after she's been gone for over 5 years. I have a lot of guilt about that, but it is what it is. What I don't understand is why, after she died, my creativity died, too. I couldn't blog anymore. Mind you, at this same time, I was dealing with some health issues - I'd been having mobility issues, which I started seeing a doctor for in early 2018, but mom's sudden passing kind of shunted all of that to the side. Still, I can't even begin to explain the way things changed for me, much less to understand why I was so affected.

The next year was okay, we went to England, which was a lifelong dream, & things seemed like they were mostly going well enough, despite my increasing mobility issues as well as memory issues. While sorting through all our parents' stuff to get their house ready to sell, my brother, Jeff, and I became closer - we'd always been reasonably close, I guess. We got along well as siblings, despite an age gap of just over 10 years (he was older). He'd looked out for me when I was  little & we were friends as adults, which is more than either of us could say about our other sibling, who has been estranged from us both since the 90s. So, yeah... we were pretty close.

So I mentioned about mobility issues, memory issues, etc. I had thought that at least part of this was some kind of ongoing complications from a car wreck I was in back in '95. Turns out, it wasn't - I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis 3 years ago. In the time since then, with the pandemic in full swing for much of the time, I became homebound. Besides the MS, I have asthma, & also a vaccine allergy. Between that & the autoimmune disease, I cannot be vaccinated, & I am at high rick for severe covid because of my health. Ironic, no? Add that to my increasing mobility issues & my life became more & more isolated.

The summer of 2021, my brother, in his 50s at the time, was diagnosed with heart failure. The cardiologist he was referred to said this was likely a complication of the chemo he'd had years earlier. In December 2021, just a few days before my birthday, he texted me that he was going to the e/r - this was around 2 in the morning. He texted me one more time after that, & then... nothing. I kept trying to get ahold of him, or the hospital, to find out what was going on, but no one answered until about 4 hours later, when I finally got someone at the e/r. To my absolute shock, she told me my brother was dead. He died less than an hour after his last text to me, of a sudden cardiac arrest. I couldn't believe it. I still can't believe it. To this day, I cannot really cope with it. I don't know why it's hit me so hard - I see people who cope with loss & move on, & I did that with my parents, but this one, I couldn't. It was like it was too much, losing both parents & then my brother. It has destroyed me in some way. I'm not the person I was before. So much loss, & then everything else....

One the day my brother died, I went to the hospital to say goodbye to him. I didn't leave my house again until about 4 weeks ago when our cat needed the emergency vet. For a year & a half, I stayed home. (& I haven’t gone out again since bringing our cat home) I work from home as a data analyst. I pay my bills online, & have my groceries, etc, delivered. The only person I see is Jake. My world is so isolated & so depressing. I'm very limited in what I can physically do & that adds massively to the depression. Plus, & this will probably sound selfish, but it's true nonetheless, ever since my brother died, I've felt this sense of impending doom & hopelessness. Like I'm next & it's only a matter of time. I don't know what to do about any of it. I sit here, in my messy house (I hate mess, but I can't physically do most of the cleaning, & Jake doesn't really do cleaning, despite being a huge help to me in other ways) & I exist. Nothing much changes from one day to the next. I feel not only so depressed, but such a horrible anxiety about my life, & about what will happen to Jake if something happens to me. And yet I feel totally helpless to do anything to change any of it. I just feel so emotionally exhausted all the time, like I can't cope with anything at all.

So, yeah... that's me. If you've made it this far, you're probably either bored to tears or disgusted with my moaning. Still, if you've read this, thanks. If anyone reads it, at least I'm not keeping it all to myself anymore. Maybe offloading all of this here will somehow make it easier for me to cope with it. Either way, it's out!

[euphorial-docx]

ok maybe i’ve just been seeing way too many twitter arguments about this, arguments which i don’t think really exist on tumblr, but i guess i wanted to share my opinion here.

when i was reading atyd a few years ago, i never read the characters being misogynistic in a “oh this author must hate women” type of way and more in a “sometimes people in the 70s were misogynistic without even realizing it” way.

like… i don’t get it when that’s included as like a “problematic” feature of the fic, because i felt it was realistic and i feel strongly that writers can write bad characters/bad things without they themself agreeing with those characters and things.

i simply don’t think writing something bad = endorsing it.

idk maybe it’s been a while since i last read atyd, and i know it does have some poor representation in other areas, but i never really felt offended as a “woman” (whatever that even means for me) when the characters said some misogynistic stuff because i just accepted the fic as a period piece trying to be somewhat realistic. like i’m sorry, a lot of guys in the 70s said some weird shit about women— yes, probably even the guys you like. ofc not every author has to be realistic about that stuff, but clearly a little bit of realism was an aim for atyd, and i don’t think that’s bad.

even in my own writing, i write stuff i don’t agree with. for example: opev. regulus is very progressive in that story because of his education and blah blah blah, and yet he still treats women, namely emma, in a way that i don’t necessarily like. i would never treat someone like that, but i realize that not only is the time period’s views different from now but also regulus has his own personal reasons to be behaving the way he does. i also write stuff like murder and cannibalism… but i am very against killing people and i am vegetarian. clearly i do not practice the things i write in my personal life.

i’m just telling a story that happens to have complex behaviors that i don’t really like but wanted to explore. i think, in some instances (although not all instances; there definitely are some real issues sometimes), that’s what happened in other fics like atyd.

(side note: i also don’t get it when people say atyd was biphobic? again, maybe it’s just been a while and i’m forgetting shit, but is the biphobia supposed to be remus sleeping with women when he labels himself gay??? is that the biphobia? or is there another example? i’ve been seeing that and i’m confused.)

(additional note: atyd does have some hurtful things written in it. my brain goes to the representation of irish travelers first. the writer themself has even acknowledged that. the issue of their apology or whatever isn’t one i’m going to be arguing, neither is those real hurtful issues otherwise written in that fic— i agree those things should’ve been handled better. this is just about my take on the depictions of misogyny and writers being allowed to write bad things without it being representative of them as a person.)

[bbrissonn]

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 | ʙʀᴇɴᴅᴀɴ ʙʀɪꜱꜱᴏɴ

disclaimer: english is not my first language and this is not proofread so please excuse any errors and if any words are missing add them in your head :) also this is a work of fiction, this doesn’t reflect how these boys act in real life, and it isn’t how i imagine them acting

warnings: underage drinking, slight swearing (i think), not proofread

pairing: brendan brisson x brianna garcia (my oc, she doesn’t have a face claim so imagine her how ever you please)

wc: 6.3k (including the lyrics)

bold italic are lyrics, italics are either flashbacks or text messages

this takes place from january 2022 to march 2022 

au masterlist

i’m somebody you call when you’re alone 

i’m somebody you use, but never own 

i’m somebody you touch, but never hold 

and you’re somebody i’ll never really know 

brianna let out a loud sigh as brendan’s contact popped up on her phone again, this was probably the 20th time he called her in the last week and a half, mostly when he was drunk. the girl never answered, she wanted to, to make sure he was okay and didn’t get hurt, but she knew what else would happen if she answered. so everytime she let it ring over and over, and she didn’t touch her phone until the voicemail notification popped up. 

“hi baby! i hope you’re having fun at home, i really miss you here. it’s boring not having you around, speaking of boring, i finished another book today, it had the most boring ending in the world. like everything about it was great, she wasn’t supposed to get back with him, but then she did, and then guess what! he cheated on her again! and then she acted all surprised and shit. like, what did she expect? but like the whole book there was a lot of character development and the boy was becoming a good guy, and then we got that shitty ending.” his voiced echoed through her phone speaker, and she could tell he wasn’t drunk, maybe a little tipsy, but not drunk. meaning he definitely knew what he was doing and what he was saying. the line was silent for a bit before he spoke again, his voice small and quiet, unlike before.

“i really miss you, bri. a lot. but i want you to be happy, and if this makes you happy… then i’m happy. i hope you’re having a good time, love you.” his voice trailed off, clearly sad, making tears well up in her eyes. 

ever since they had broken up, brianna couldn’t help but feel that she had made a mistake. she missed him, so much. she missed falling asleep with him, she missed reading with him, she missed all the small little moments they shared that made her feel like a little kid again. she missed him, but she didn’t at the same time. she didn’t miss having him come home drunk, she didn’t miss him going to parties every friday night. 

she wished she could be different, the life of the party like all of his friends are, like he is. that way maybe their relationship would’ve worked out better, that way she would understand him better. not that she didn’t understand him, she understood his hockey things, why it was important to him, she understood why his friends were so important to him. but the one thing she didn’t understand was why he always wanted to party.

and in her head, that was the reason why they didn’t work, the one thing that she need to understand to most about him, she didn’t. meanwhile he understood everything about her, why she liked reading so much, why she didn’t like big crowds, why she didn’t like drinking too much, why she prefers staying in to eat instead of going out. he understood everything, but she couldn’t. and that thought alone had been eating her alive since that august night when they started dating.

i know i’m not the one you really love 

i guess that’s why i’ve never given up 

‘cause i could give you all you want, the stars and the sun 

but still, i’m not enough 

when everybody came back from winter break, brendan made it his mission to try and her back, why? he didn’t really know, but he knew he wanted her and needed her in his life. it started with small things, he would buy her coffee and drop it off at her house, with the help of one of her roommates. her roommate never told her who it was from, but brianna knew, he was the only one who knew her coffee order by heart and her favourite coffee shop.

and then it turned into things small little objects that reminded him of her, always with a piece of paper attached to it saying ‘reminded me of you :)’ something that made her smile every time. her favourite thing was by far the small little earning he had gotten, they had small opened books hanging from them, and she wore them everyday. brendan smiled to himself each day when he’d see her wearing them during their english class. he knew she would love it.

and the slowly, he started texting her every once in a while, catching up on any books she had read recently, if she had any recommendations for him, and just checking up on her. she knew he wasn’t just asking for book recommendations to talk to her, since bordy always sent her snaps of him reading a book she had recommended to him a few days prior. she was happy that he was truly enjoying reading, and all of the boys were too since it meant he didn’t talk as much, he still did talk a lot, but he wasn’t talking anyone’s ears off anymore. 

brendan was sitting the library, a book in hand, something else that had never happened until her started dating her, when someone sat next to him, dropping a box on the table. when he looked over at the person, his jaw dropped. there she sat, next to him, barely even a foot away from him for the first in weeks, a soft smile on her face. 

“hey.” she whispered softly, her eyes looking into his. 

“hi.” he whispered back, in his head, this was the moment where everything was going to go back to before. all of his efforts over the last 2 weeks, finally paying off. 

“y-you need to stop, bren.” she struggled to say, she had been building up to this moment for the last couple of days, knowing it had to end. 

“w-what?” 

“the gifts and the coffees. it needs to stop.” she whispered, completely breaking his heart as his smile fell. she pushed the small box over to him and he slowly opened it. inside was all of the small little things he had gotten her, including the earrings, along with some money, which was obviously for all the coffees he had gotten her. tears threatened to fall down his face, but he held them in, all of the efforts he had made, it was all for nothing. 

“i appreciate it, it’s nice of you, b. but i don’t need these things. i-i don’t know why you started doing this, but if it’s you trying to get me back, i– it’s not gonna work, brendan. i made up my mind.” she explained softly, a tear finally falling from the boy’s eye. he stared at everything in the box, as her words registered in his head.  

“oh.” he let out with a shaky breath, having this conversation while sober was way harder than he thought it would be.

“we just– we don’t work together, bren. we’re too different.” 

“but you always– you always opposites attract and that’s why they work out so well, you made me read all these books about that exactly.  i– i don’t understand, bri.” 

“just because it works out in books doesn’t mean it works out in real life, b. i’m sorry, i really am.” she whispered before getting up and fixing her coat a bit. she was about to walk away when the brisson boy grabbed her wrist. 

“can you– can you at least keep the earrings?” he asked her softly, holding the pair of hanging books in his hands.

“bren–” 

“please.” he begged her, she swallowed harshly before grabbing them with her free hands. brendan sent her a small sad smile before letting go of her wrist, and letting her walk away from him. 

oh-oh, all i really wanted was that look in your eyes 

like you already know that i’m the love of your life 

like you already know you’re never saying goodbye 

“you’re perfect, you know that?” 

“that’s not true, bren.” she said with a giggle as he kissed her neck, a red solo cup in his hands. it was the night of his birthday, the team had lost the game earlier that night, but brendan was still happy to be with his friends and girlfriend for his 20th birthday. 

“uhh, yes it is.” 

“says who?” 

“says me. you’re fucking perfect, babe. you’re smart, real fucking smart, like crazy smart, you’re kind, you’re nice, even to people who are rude or mean to you. you’re selfless, you always make sure others are happy, and you’re fucking georgous. that’s the definition of perfect if you ask me.” he explained, making a dark shade of pink creep up on her face. brianna was about to answer him, complimenting him as well, but he beat her to it.

“do you wanna dance? i think we should dance.” brendan declared turning her around in his arms so they were standing face to face, instead of his front being against her back. 

“i don’t know… last time you wanted to dance you let me fall on my butt, bren.” she teased him with a smile making him roll his eyes jokingly. 

“later, okay?” she whispered, getting closer to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. he nodded a bit before bringing her body completely against his, hugging her waist tightly.

“oi, lovebirds! we’re playing beer pong!” nolan yelled from the other room, making brendan flip him off before he pulled away from her. 

“my lady.” he said with a horrible british accent holding his hand out for her to grab. she let out a small giggle while grabbing his hand as they made their way over to the ping pong table where everything was already set up.

brendan watched her with complete heart eyes everytime it was her turn to throw the ball, all the boys making sure to keep that in mind to tease him about it the next day in the locker room. but brendan didn’t care, he was falling in love with her, and he loved it. he loved how he felt every time he touched her, or when she looked at him, or when she talked to him about his day. she made him feel like the best version of himself and he loved it. 

but i’m not yours  

i’m not yours, i’m not yours  

i want more, i want more 

but i’m not yours 

and i can’t change your mind 

but you’re still mine 

a couple of days later, brendan found out he’d be going to the olympics, something he was insanely happy about. the boys had decided to go out after the game, to celebrate the win and the 4 boys being selected. but brendan didn’t feel like going out, instead he just went home and laid in bed all night, now of course part of him wanted to go out with the boys, but he wanted to be with her more than anything. going out to get ice cream just the two of them together, probably get something else to eat at a fast food, a whole lot of kisses exchanged, but instead he was laying in bed all alone.

he knew she knew he had been selected, since the boys had texted about it in the big group chat they had made at the beginning of the school year. and also because she had sent the three other boys congrats text, but he didn’t have anything from her. well that was until around midnight. 

hi b, i know it’s late and all, but congrats on getting selected!! you deserve it so much and i wish you to best there :)

he knew he shouldn’t be so excited about a simple text that she had sent to the three others, but it wasn’t the same one. she had just said a simple congrats and good luck to the other’s, meanwhile he got two full sentences. it wasn’t much, but he already considered that a win. 

the boy fell asleep with a big smile on his face that night, something that hadn’t happened in almost a full mouth now. 

the next morning, he got woken up by a small knock at his door, making him let out a loud groan. he then heard a small chuckle from the other side of the door, one that he’d recognized anywhere. 

“come in.” he called out as he slowly sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes. he felt like the door was opening in slow motion, until she was finally standing in his room, her eyes looking right into his. 

“hi.” she whispered, making brendan smile a bit. 

“hi.” 

“i’m sorry for waking you up.” she said with a soft smile on her face, brendan shrugged a bit before patting the end of his bed. she fully walked into his room, closing the door behind her, and that’s when he noticed the two coffees in her hand. 

“i got a coffee.” her voice spoke, as she slowly handed him the cup. 

“thanks.” he said as she sat down near his feet, looking at the floor.

“you didn’t answer me last night, and the boys told me you didn’t go out with them too. i, um, i wanted to make sure you were okay.” she spoke, whispering the last part. brendan felt a little guilty that he hadn’t answered her message, in all honesty he had completely forgotten to do so, being too excited about what she had said. 

“yeah, uh, sorry ‘bout that, i just– i completely forgot to answer. not because it wasn’t important, just, like, i had.. a lot on my mind.” he was quick to say, not wanting her to think he had done it on purpose. she nodded a bit, finally looking up at him and their eyes met, both of them smiling a little at the other. 

“i’m proud of you, b. you deserve it so much.” she said after a couple of seconds of silence, making butterflies erupt in the boy's stomach. brendan was about to answer her, when his door flew open, steve standing in the other side of it. 

“dude, if you want a ride to breakfast, we’re leaving in 15 so hurry the fuck up, you– oh, i, um, i’m sorry. i didn’t– i would’ve never– i’m gonna go.” 

“no, steve, it’s okay. i was just leaving.” the garcia girl said standing up from brendan’s bed. 

“you were?” brendan asked her a small voice, making brianna’s heart ache at the sound of it. out of the corner of her eye, she saw steve walking away from the door, quickly understanding that he wasn’t welcomed anymore. 

“bren, everything i said in the library–” 

“right, no, yeah. i understand, sorry.” 

“have a good, b.” she whispered before leaving the room, closing the door behind her. brendan stayed seated in his bed, staring at the wall in front of him, completely crushed. all the excitement from last night and even the last couple of minutes, completely gone. he felt empty. he didn’t know how long he sat there for, but he heard all of the guys yelling that they were leaving in 5, then that they were leaving and then he heard the door close and the whole house was quiet. 

he never made it to breakfast, deciding to stay in the room all morning instead, they didn’t have practice or a game that day, and it was a sunday, meaning he didn’t have anything to do. so he stayed in his room, only leaving it when his doordash order arrived, not saying a single word to any of his teammates and completely ignoring all of them. 

so tell me that it’s time for me to go 

‘cause you already know i can’t do it on my own 

the only thing that’s harder than sleepin’ alone 

is sleepin’ with your ghost 

“you have to talk to briss.” mackie said as he sat down next to brianna in the library, making her jump a bit. 

“oh, hi, mackie. it’s nice to see you too. how am i? oh i’m doing great, how are you doing?” the girl sassed him, making the younger boy roll his eyes.

“i’m serious, bri. i don’t know what you said to him sunday, but he barely talks anymore, he doesn’t stick around after practice, he never goes out with us anymore. he doesn’t even come to the senior house anymore. i’ve known him for years, okay, and he’s never acted like this. never.” 

“mack, i-i don’t know what you want me to do. i can’t fix this, i can’t.” 

“why not?” 

“the only way i could would be by getting back with him, and i can’t, mack. i wish i could, i really did, but i can’t.” she explained, clearly she hadn’t been dealing with the whole breakup that well either. mackie let out a sigh before resting his head on the table. 

“so, we just let him stay like that forever?” 

“just, give him time, okay?” 

“it’s been a month, bri! he’s leaving for beijing sunday, and we’re leaving for minny tomorrow. just, try to talk to him, please.” there was something in the way mackie said his last sentence that made brianna realize just how bad the brisson boy really was. she stayed quiet for a while, staring at the opened book in front of her, before letting out a sigh. 

“fine, i’ll try. but i can’t promise you that it’s gonna work.” she whispered, making a big smile grown on mackie’s face. he quickly threw his arms around the girl’s shoulders, bringing her in for a hug.

“thank you, thank you, thank you! you’re the best!” he spoke loudly, making brianna quickly shut him up. 

“mackie, be quiet!” she whispered yelled at him, making the boy quickly close his mouth. he stayed seated with her for a couple more minutes, talking about his life, before leaving for practice. 

~

hey, do you think we could talk for a bit tonight? 

was the first thing brendan saw on his phone after practice, making his stomach turn, in his head he wanted to tell himself that this was walking to be good, but in his heart he knew he probably wasn’t. and even if it was a good thing she wanted to talk about, but he didn’t want to get crushed like last time. 

sure, ill be there soon 

he quickly typed before closing his phone and finishing what he needed to do before quickly leaving the locker room, only for nick to call out his name. he walked back into the room, a small groan leaving his mouth. 

“where the hell are you going, dude? practice finished like 10 minutes ago.” 

“i’m meeting someone.” he mumbled before quickly leaving the room again and hurrying outside, ignoring all of the boys who were calling his name. he quickly walked over to brianna’s house and knocked softly on it. a couple of seconds later, the garcia girl opened the door slowly, with a soft, small smile on his face. 

“hi.” she whispered, opening the door fully so he could step in. 

“h-hey.” he whispered back, stepping into the house, taking off his coat and placing it on the coat rack near the door. when he turned around to look at the girl, she had made her back into the living room, sitting on one of the two couches, a blanket thrown over her. brendan slowly made his way in, sitting down at the opposite end of the couch. 

“i talk to mackie earlier, he… he said you’ve been acting weird since sunday. and uh, i’m sorry for showing up without telling you, and i’m sorry for leaving like that–”

“why’d you really come, bri? and– and don’t say it’s because i didn’t answer you, there’s something else. i know there is.” he cut her off, the room was silent for a couple of minutes after that, brianna looking down at her lap while brendan’s eyes were stuck on her. she was wearing the earrings he had gotten her, making him smile slightly. 

“i guess i just… i wanted to know if we could still be friends. i know that’s it’s not fair for me to ask you this, b-but you were my best friend, bren. you were my best friend for almost a full year before we started dating and i– i miss you. i understand if you don’t want to, i don’t blame you.” the room was dead silent after that, brendan staring down at the fireplace in front of them, blinking every now and then. 

“i-i don’t think i can be your friend, bri.” he whispered after a couple of minutes of silence, the garcia girl taking a deep shaky breath after. but then it was like something switched inside of him, anger slowly taking over. 

“if i’m not enough to be your boyfriend, why should i be enough to be your friend?” he asked with anger in his voice, making brianna look over at him, her mouth slightly opened. 

“bren, i–” 

“stop fucking calling me bren.” he cut her off harsly, making tears well up in her eyes. he had barely even used this tone around her before, and even lesss towards her. 

“o-okay, what do you want me to call you then?” 

“briss. briss is fine.” he said, making her swallow harsly, she had never called him briss, it was also bren, brendan, or b, but never briss. she was struggling to keep her tears in when brendan looked over at her, scoffing and shaking his head when he saw her eyes. 

“honestly, fuck you, bri. you just– you tell me that i’m not enough for you, and you break up with me, and then you ask me to still be friends after telling me all those things in the library? are you fucking kidding me? have you even taken a second to think about how i feel? you think i can just move on from this in less than a month? that i can just forget about everything like we never even happened because that’s what you want? fuck you.” he yelled out before getting up, putting his coat back on and leaving her house, slamming the door behind him. 

brianna stayed seated on her couch, mouth opened as she tried to understand what had just happened. only to get a text from mackie barely 10 minutes later. 

wtf is wrong with you bri?! 

i asked you help him, not make it worse 

she didn’t answer him, simply closing her phone and making her way up to her room, locking the door behind herself. 

oh-oh, all i really wanted was that look in your eyes 

like you already know that i’m the love of your life 

like you already know you’re saying never saying goodbye 

brianna hadn’t realized how bad brendan was until she watched their first game in minnesota, throwing dirty hits and getting frustrated over the smallest thing, something that had never happened before. his focus clearly wasn’t fully on the game, something else that never occurred before, and he wasn’t helping the team at all. the girl felt guilty, she felt like she was the reason why this was going on, something she was sure brendan would agree with. 

none of the guys had spoken to her before leaving, hell she didn’t even know when the team was leaving. but she didn’t blame them for not reaching out, she did in fact make the situation with brendan worse, instead of trying to make it better like mackie had asked her. 

jordy texted her a bit during the game, asking the girl why brendan was acting like, meaning no one had told him about their recent conversation, something the garcia girl was thankful for. over the small amount of times she had spent the younger brisson, the two quickly grew closer and closer, jordy getting an older sister, while brianna got a younger brother. the two of them often made jokes about asking pat and kim to adopt her, while putting bren up for adoption, something that never made him laugh. 

i fucked up…

she sent him after trying to come up with the best way to tell him what happened, without having him completely freak out on her. jordy’s text bubble popped up, then disappeared, then popped up again and so one for about a minute, until he finally sent her something back. 

… i’m not sherlock holmes bri 

he texted back, making the garcia girl snort a bit as she watched all of the boys skate across the ice, getting ready for the third period to start. she watched as brendan sat on the bench, his mind clearly somewhere else, before answering the younger brisson.

i asked him to be friends

the words ‘read’ appeared under the text right after it was sent, but no sign of the boy answering her, until his contact popped up on her screen, making her jump a bit before answering the face time call. 

“you’re the worst texter in the world, oh my god.” the younger boy spoke as soon as she answered his call, making her jaw drop. 

“excuse you?” 

“you don’t know how to explain jackshit.” he said over the loud noise of the people around him, his eyes looking above his phone, down to the ice. 

“what do you mean i don’t how to explain, i told you what happened, jords. i asked him to be my friend–” 

“yeah yeah yeah, i got that part down. now please explain why he’s acting like this.” he cut her off, his eyes still looking down at the ice, brianna’s eyes doing the same on her computer. 

“i don’t know what else you want me to say, i asked him to be my friend and then he just said ‘fuck you’ and then pretty much said i was being selfish, said another ‘fuck you’ before leaving my house. in other words, i fucked up and all of the guys are mad at me because of it.” 

“even bordy?” 

“yup, even bordy.” she said with a sigh, when briss and her first started messing around, thom had made both of the promise not to fuck shit up so he wouldn’t get caught in the middle of their problems, not wanting to lose either of his best friend. and brianna had done the exact opposite of what he had asked. 

“bri, i mean this in the nicest way possible, but why the fuck did you think that was a good idea?” he asked her, but there was no hint of anger or frustration in his voice, he was calm, something that shocked the girl. she let out a sigh before answering him, both of their eyes still locked on the puck moving around the ice. 

“i-i don’t know. mackie asked me to make things better before they left, and i just freaked out i guess. i thought he’d like to be friends again, but clearly i was wrong. and i feel bad because now he’s acting like this because of me, it’s all my fault, jords. he hates me.” 

“he doesn’t hate you, y/n/n. he’s just angry, he’ll get over it soon.” jordy said softly, she could hear the sincerity in his voice, and she knew he knew briss better than anyone else. so if he really thought bren wouldn’t be so angry at her soon, she believed him. 

“if you say so.”she mumbled, but jordy heard it, making him sigh a bit. 

“i’ll talk to him after the game, alright?” 

“okay. i’ll talk to you later, j.” 

“later, y/n/n.” he said before he hung up. she didn’t touch her phone after that until the period was over, clicking on brendan’s contact, his last text still being on the bottom of the screen, her fingers flew over your keyboard, before she closed it, along with her phone, with a frustrated groan leaving her mouth. 

draft: hey bren, i know you don’t want to talk to me right now, but i’m sorry, i really am. i’m sorry for hurting you and making you feel like you're not enough, i promise you you are, you’re more than enough bren and i’m so sorry i told you the opposite. 

but i’m not yours 

i’m not yours, i’m not yours 

i want more, i want more 

but i’m not yours 

and i can’t change your mind 

brendan was back. back way earlier than brianna thought he would with the usa getting eliminated in the quarter finals. only he was different than before. he was back to normal brendan, back to how he was before him and brianna even started dating. something some of his teammates were super excited about. 

he was loud again, making sure everyone without a 10 miles radius could hear him and everything he had to say. back to being sarcastic to everyone, and a tiny bit mean, but everyone know it wasn’t to cause any harm, it was all just a big joke to him. everything was actually. he started pulling pranks on everyone again, he went back to always wanting to be the center of attention in the locker room and at parties. 

no one knew what happened over the last couple of weeks while he was in beijing for him to have such a big change, not even matty knew, making all of them a little worried. the boys had slowly started to talk to the garcia a girl, something she was really grateful for, she spend most of her time at the granger house, since she didn’t have to worry about brendan showing up unannounced, since he always seemed to be busy these days. no one really knew what he was doing, but they all had a pretty good idea of what he would do.

“briss has been acting weird lately.” matty said one day as he walked into the living room of the granger house, making bri, thom and jacob all look at him. thom’s head was resting on the girl’s lap and his feet were thrown over truss’ lap. 

“huh?” 

“like ever since we came back he’s been… different.” matty explained as he sat down next to jacob, making thom look up at the girl. her jaw dropping a bit at his accusing eyes. 

“i didn’t do anything!” she quickly defended herself, making bordy squint his eyes at her a bit.

“sure.” he said, dragging out the e, making brianna hit him slightly on the forehead, which resulted in bordy slapping her hand. and soon, the two of them found themselves hitting each other softly over and over again until one of the two boys spoke up. 

“can you guys stop acting like children, gosh.” truss said, making matty laugh a bit. brianna got the last hit in, before the two of them finally calmed down. 

“so what if he’s being weird, at least he isn’t being a bitch to everyone.” thom said in a duh tone, making everyone scoff at his attitude a bit. 

“how’s he being weird?” brianna asked after a couple of seconds of silent, making all of the three boys look between themselves, looking a little alarmed. 

“he’s just– like you know–” 

“oh my god, jacob, no need to sugarcoat it, she’s gonna find out one way or the other. he’s hooking up with girls again, and he’s acting the same way he did last year, bri.” thom said in harsh tone at first, but it switched to soft and calm for the end. brianna felt a small pang in her heart, her jaw dropping a bit. 

“oh.” she whispered as she stared at the ground, not wanting to meet anyone’s eyes. she knew he would end up moving on one day, but she didn’t expect to come so quickly, and she surely didn’t think it would be this way. she could see thomas staring at her from her lap, and she was pretty sure matty and jacob were staring at her as well. 

she felt small tears well up in her eyes at the idea of brendan having sex with someone who wasn’t her, but she quickly pushed them back and reminded herself she had no rights to be reacting this way. she was the one who broke up with him after all. 

“g-good for him.” she struggled to say after a couple of minutes, and all of the boys could hear the hurt in her voice. they all felt bad for her, even if she had broken up with him, they could all tell she still loved him, that she was still in love with him. her words made thom place one of his hand on top of the one she was resting on his chest, softly rubbing her knuckles, sending her a small sad smile when she finally looked down at him. 

i should’ve known that it was dumb love 

15 dozen roses 

all the things that i've done for you not notice 

can’t believe i chose you over all my best friends 

what the fuck did i do in the end? 

just to not be yours 

“hey, you alright?” thomas asked loudly into brianna’s ear so she could hear him, making her look over at him, her eyes finally looking away from brendan and the blond girl his lips were attached to. he could see the pain in her eyes when their eyes finally met, making him wrap his arms around her. 

“you wanna go home?” he asked her, and he felt her shake her head ‘yes’ against his chest, making place down the cup he was holding, before telling one of the guys that they were leaving, his hand holding hers as they walked around the senior house. 

“i’m sorry i made you come, if i would’ve known–” 

“it’s okay tommy.” she cut him off softly as they walked down the cold roads of ann arbor, in the direction of thom’s house. the team had won their semi final game against notre dame last night, their first and only win against them this season, meaning everyone was ecstatic. not only because they won, but also because this meant they were heading to the finals of the big 10 tournament, something they had all worked hard to do.

“i feel stupid.” brianna said after a couple of minutes, making thom look over at her, his eyebrows raised slightly.

“like, i broke up with him. i shouldn’t feel upset about it.” she said as they finally reached their destination, bordy struggling to open the door as he listened to her. 

“just because you broke up with him doesn’t mean you don’t love him any less, bri.” he explained as they both took off their shoes before making their way up the stairs of the house. 

“yeah, but it’s not that he’s– i don’t want him to kiss anyone that isn’t me. an-and just the idea of him falling asleep in another girl’s bed makes me wanna puke, like– like he shouldn’t be doing all of those things with someone who isn’t me.” she explained as tears fell from her eyes, sitting down on the edge of his bed once they finally made it into his bedroom. bordy opened a couple of his drawers, pulling out sweatpants and a big shirt before handing them to her. he then sat down next to her, wiping her tears away. 

“it’s normal, bri. i felt the same way when i saw aurora with her new boyfriend for the first time. just the idea of her being with someone who wasn’t me made me sick.”

“but that’s different–” she started, but she sighed when she realized she didn’t have any arguments. thom rubbed her shoulder a but before pressing a kiss to her temple. 

“go change, alright. we can keep talking after.” he whispered, and the garcia girl got up before making her way to the bathroom. when she walked back into the room wearing the clothes he had given him, bordy was already laying in bed, his blanket pulled back so she could slip in. 

“you wanna know what i think?” he asked her once she settled down on his chest, her arms wrapped around his torso as his were wrapped around her shoulders.

“sure.”

“i think you regret breaking up with him. like in the moment it felt like the right thing, but now you regret it, a whole lot. you miss him, bri, i know you do. the things you said before, that’s just saying you want him to be yours, completely yours, like boyfriend yours. and you feel like you’re his, and that’s why it makes you feel like this when you see him with another girl.” 

“yeah… yeah. but he’s never going to be mine again, bords. he hasn’t talked to me in months, he deleted my number and he gave me everything back. and deep down i know i’m never really be his again. i fucked it all up.” she whispered, as more tears fell from her eyes. thom could hear all the pain and regret in her voice, making his heart ache for his best friend. he had never seen her like this, crying over someone in his arms, never. 

he didn’t say anything, he just held her, knowing that’s what she needed the most right now. she didn’t want to hear that everything was going to be okay, because she knew that it wasn’t true. she just wanted her best friend to be there for her. he didn’t stop hugging her until she fell asleep, only moving his arms a bit before placing them back where they were before, and falling asleep as well.

taglist <3 @mack-samo @hugheshugs @nickblankenburgg @studsccsnackavoybambi @blanksbae @doyouevenplayhockey @dracoswhore007 @bemybinarystar @ancient-remnants-of-love @power2myheart @emsully2002 @cuttergauth @jayda12 @marcoskasper @mackieraymonds @bowen-power @sidcrosbyspuck @arianabordeleau @bordeleau @sslafkovsky @dora-the-exploraah @sophia-bordeleau

[ghosttownwherenoonegoes]

I’m writing Eddie a letter under the cut. All my thoughts, raw and open. This is fine to reblog, comment on etc., I don’t mind. I discuss stress, depression, anxiety, medication for the aforementioned, self-shipping with Eddie. Just a creative vent exercise, really.

I just really need to talk to Eddie right now.💔

Hey, Eddie.

Long time no speak, huh? I know, I know. I’ve been busy, I guess. Well, no, I have been busy, but I’ve been downplaying my own emotions to myself for this whole time because hiding is much easier when there’s still so much left to do. I can’t help feeling that I don’t have time even to write this to you, curled up as I am in bed watching horror films before I go to sleep, and I feel like I should be studying. I feel like… if I’m not constantly studying to complete this final assignment of the year, then I’m letting you and everyone else down. But more than that, if I’m not always doing something between uni and work, then I’m only proving my most familiar thoughts right. That all I am is just… wasted potential. And I’ll never amount to ‘anything’ anyway, so why bother trying? But.. I won’t ever know if I’ll make it to becoming a neuropsychologist if I don’t try.

That’s what scares me though, trying… or, trying to try.

It feels like… all I ever do is try to try, but I never feel like I’ve tried hard enough. I could always study more, I could always work more shifts, I could always do this thing or that thing… I never feel like I’ve done enough, no matter how hard I try. And, Eddie, my sweet angel baby, I am exhausted trying to live up to my own expectations. If I can’t even meet my own expectations, then how could I ever be enough for someone else? How could I ever be enough for you, or your beloved Uncle Wayne?

I’m really, really tired, Eddie.

Sleep won’t touch this tired, it’s in my bones, it’s in the way it takes well over an hour to get out of bed most mornings (not including my Eddie hour every morning, that’s the one thing I won’t let myself take away from me, nor my night hour with you. That’s mine, too), it’s in the way I choose work or studying over myself and then get mad at myself for it later. It’s in the way I don’t even really have the energy to write this letter because these thoughts are so familiar to me that it feels like writing this letter to you is pointless - you’re reading this for the first time, but for me, these thoughts have echoed in my head for years. So what’s the point in writing this letter? But that’s why I’m doing it - to me, these thoughts are almost friends despite how much they hurt me, but to you, this might be new to you, so maybe you can learn about me a little more, if you wanted to. I know I shut you out a lot of the time, I tell you and your Uncle that I’m fine when I’m not.

But that’s also because I’m scared, Eddie. I go through life absolutely terrified, of everything and everyone, all the time always, even on the medication I was given a few weeks ago for my newly diagnosed anxiety and depression, and if I tell you even half of what goes through my head on a daily basis, then that means it matters, and if it matters…. Then, Eddie, it’s gonna hurt. And if I fully let myself feel how much it hurts, then… I’m not sure I’d be able to coax myself out of bed at all. So I hide it from others as best as I can, and I hide it from myself, too. I acknowledge to myself when I’m hurting and I let myself feel those emotions as they come, I never hide from my feelings, necessarily, but I also don’t let myself feel the full extent of them. If I do, I’ll stop dead in my tracks and I’m not sure I’d have it in me to take another step. So I keep stepping. I keep trying.

Most importantly, I keep you near me, Eddie.

You make me cry when I’m trying my best not to because there isn’t any time to do so. You make me smile and laugh when it feels like I’d forgotten how to. You make me remember the person I want to be… I never found you in high school, sweet angel baby, so I’ve been working on becoming someone you would be proud of. If I can’t find you for myself, then I’ll become someone like you for other people, to the best of my ability.

So… as I write this, I imagine that you’re curled up beside me on the bed watching this horror film with me. I’m wearing my Munson Motivation Outfit and your head is on my shoulder, your dark curls spilling into my braids, your head a comforting and familiar weight on my shoulder. Your hand splayed across my thigh… you’re totally nuzzled into me, and I into you. We’re making comments to each other as we watch but otherwise, we’re more interested in soaking up time with each other as much as possible. I so rarely get more than an hour at a time with you. I have to fight myself for that time, and I never don’t feel guilty for it. I would love to say all of this to your face, but this is the best I have.

As I write this, the last assignment of the year is due next week and I’m… scared. Eddie, I’m scared. And I don’t have time to be. The more I get scared, the more I freeze up, and the more I freeze up, the less time I have to do the actual assignment. This one is 40% of this year’s grade with no retakes, no second tries, no extension. It’s stone fucking cold and I’ve frozen up before I even get started. I have a week until it’s due, so there’s still time for me. My body is reflecting my chronic stress… I’ve got my littlest toe sick with paronychia, which is taking a while to clear. You and Uncle Wayne have been so good at reminding me to take my medication once a day and my antibiotics multiple times a day. I really appreciate you stroking my throat every time to help the tablet go down…no matter how many I take, I can never swallow immediately because I’m scared to choke. I’m out of work until my toe heals and that means more assignment time but I’m also on my period so I’m sore everywhere and I’m adjusting to new meds so I can’t focus well and I don’t think they’re working and god, Eddie… I’m trying so hard to deal with everything happening all at once but I’m tired, I’m tired and I don’t know what to do and I know I’m right at the finish line, I do, but I wish I was already there so I could rest. But I’m not, so I can’t. But all the bodily stuff and the new meds and the most important assignment of the year all happening at once…. I want to throw a tantrum in your name, Eddie. Just once… please? I’ll make it a tantrum worthy of you, I promise.

Only I can get me there so I’ll have to find a bit more fight in me yet… if only because I know you would want me to. So would our most beloved and bestest dad, Uncle Wayne. I can never say no to the Munsons. I just wish I wasn’t so scared all the time, Eddie. And I wish you were here so I could hold your hand, look into your chocolate buttons and see you looking back… you’re so beautiful. I wish I was as brave as you, Eddie, I really do. Maybe things would be easier if I was a little more like you. I love you so much. And I miss you. Everything in me tells me you’d never be proud, only disappointed, but no one could ever be more disappointed in me than me. So it’s okay if you are, Eddie, I get it. I’m disappointed in me, too.

With all my love, you silly, brave man,

Eri.

[gendiebrainrotreceipts]

re: aromantic - i don’t know the whole history, but i know i only started using it because people kept pushing the whole ‘asexuals still feel love and want romantic relationships and can have sex!!!’ thing and i wanted a way to make it clear that i definitely don’t want any of that. but i feel like the line between sexual and romantic attraction is so blurred that it’s basically non-existent so there isn’t really a need for a separate romantic orientation label. when i say i’m asexual i just want it to mean that i’m not attracted to anyone, the same way if a lesbian says she’s lesbian it means she’s only attracted to women - how sexual or romantic her relationships are is really no one’s business except the woman she’s in a relationship with. orientation should just be about who you have the potential to be attracted to, not the hyper specific details of that attraction.

sorry for the long ask lol. this is all largely irrelevant anyway because the only time i’ve ever mentioned my asexuality offline is when friends have asked if i’m looking for a relationship. definitely agree that we have no place with the lgb and i don’t know why we were ever lumped together in the first place, it’s so irritating - and it’s especially annoying how many straight people we have to include just because they’re not into sex, or who’ve been hurt by rampant porn culture and now are completely disgusted by sex.

I think people can feel sexual desire and masturbate etc, but without wanting any intimacy with other people, so i guess in that respect romantic and sexual attraction could be viewed as separate. But like you say they’re so intertwined it is often pointless talking about them separately. I think in q+ circles they’re talked about as separate entities to a too great extent; because for most people they are inseparable and yet people talk about them as if they’re separate things for everyone.

And yes porn and hookup culture has made people think it’s normal to want immediate sex as soon you’re attracted to someone, consequently making these people think they are the outliers instead of the norm. And so they start identifying as some variant of demisexual or something. And then often people think because of that they’re automatically part of the lgbtq+ community…when irl they’re just usually normal heterosexual people..

[inksandpensblog]

AvA Sticktober 2023 | Prompt 4: Wood

King had stared at the floor a lot, since they got back, and he’d paused in the tidying efforts to do so as well. But none of his previous staring sessions had found him with such a puzzled look in his eye, so Purple figured it was alright to ask what he was thinking about. He hadn’t expected the answer. “I don’t know when it started creaking this much.” “Huh?” Purple blinked, looking down as well. “You mean, the floor?” “The wood.” King nodded. “I’ve been hearing it this whole time, since we started moving stuff around. I swear it never used to be this noisy.” Purple paced thoughtfully around the increasingly empty floor, a hand pressed to his chin as he listened to the creaks and groans of wooden boards that had distracted King from the task at hand. Once he had an aural floor map, so to speak, he eyed the corner of the open room where it seemed most of the furniture in the house had been haphazardly shoved. Including the bed.

---

(One look at it and his first thought had been that there was no way he’d be able to sleep there. The space was crowded so tightly, what if he kicked in his sleep and something fell on him?)

(He’d just take some blankets and sleep on the floor.)

(But now, he reconsidered.)

---

“I’m guessing all that stuff over there used to be against these walls?” Purple asked, waving his arms at the washed-out grey-green that formed the boundaries of the open room. King nodded. “Most of it.” Purple nodded again. “There’s your answer. When stuff sits on a floor long enough, the whole house sort of…shapes to it, or something. The wood settles around the weight. Now that you went and moved it all, the weight isn’t where the wood is used to it being. So, creaks.” King sighed, but one corner of his lip quirked despite the distance in his eyes. “So the house is complaining that the furniture isn’t where it should be?” Purple didn’t meet his eyes, looking at the floor again as he slid one foot along the wooden boards, carefully shifting his weight until the flooring yielded another groan. He winced, realized he’d winced, and covered it with a smirk as he looked up. “I used to hear that it was the house complaining that the people in it weren’t where they should be.”

---

(It would be inaccurate to say that Purple had moved a lot, as a child. He couldn’t recall having moved out of or into any particular house. But the fact remained that he’d lived in several. The whole family had rotated between the multiple dwellings throughout tournament season. There’d been the sectionals house, the regionals house, and various nationals houses rented for no more than a few weeks at a time. And of course, hotel suites in between.) (Camping was rare; no competition had ever gone badly enough that dad couldn’t afford at least a passable room for them. But as it happened, sometimes travel distance was such that there’d be no place from which to buy shelter between destinations.) (Mom understood the necessity, but he could always tell that she didn’t like it. The post-midnight chill got to her no matter how many blankets they’d packed, and she always moved stiffly and clumsily in the mornings. She’d have the same wooden expression on her face the whole time they broke camp, all the way until they found civilization again. Purple was convinced that the best sleep she’d ever gotten on a camping trip was the one time she stayed in the car the whole night; even with her back hurting the rest of the week, she was more lively than after any other night camping out.) (Purple has shared mom’s feelings on camping, when he was little. Though after enough comments about character-building from dad he’d learned to keep quiet about it too.) (As he'd gotten older, though, he…discovered a certain appeal in sleeping rough.) (The cold, hard earth covered the sound of movement a lot better than strange wooden floors that he'd never had enough time to get used to.) (Maybe he’d just tell King he’d sleep outside.)

[whumpcereal]

behavior modification, future snippet #4

masterlist here; jack and joe's first time together post-captivity

content warnings for 100% consensual but graphic spice (oral included), mentions of past non-con, mentions of previous trauma, conditioned whumpee, bbu-adjacent, ham-fisted metaphors, adult language

To call this a drabble is to call War & Peace a light summer beach read (not that this is anything like War & Peace). It's long, so give yourself time to enjoy. Thanks to my cheerleaders, @darkthingshappen, @oddsconvert, @sparrowsage, and @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump. Set about a year after Jack returns home.

And... it's my birthday, so if you want to heap feedback upon me, I wouldn't be sad about it.

first time after: lightning glass

Jack stands at the water’s edge. The cottage is at the tip of the island, so the sun rises and sets against the water. Just now, it’s sinking into the west. He knows he’s been out here too long–and he’s definitely left Joe unattended in the kitchen far too long–but he can’t make himself go in.  

It’s the air, salty and cool, brushing through his hair. The water. The way the sand slowly disappears beneath his toes. All of it, really. Open space. He didn’t realize how much he’d missed it. He’s spent so much of the last two years cooped up. His crate. The basement. Ivan’s bed. The hospital. The apartment. There’s something overwhelming about the notion that there’s nothing to confine him. The horizon stretches so far he cannot tell where it ends. 

Jack is free. 

Almost. 

He turns and looks over his shoulder at the cottage. Its windows are amber in the fading light, and he can see Joe’s silhouette, probably doing something criminal to their foodstuff. He should go in. He wants to go in. 

But there’s no one to tell him what to do just now. 

It’s supposed to be better. It is better. It’s just that, sometimes, he still doesn’t know how to choose. And when he wants something, he isn’t sure he can have it. Because he isn’t supposed to want. Or, at least, he wasn’t. 

There are so many things he wants now. He just isn’t sure that he deserves them. 

He’s not sure he deserves Joe. Not as he is now. 

Jack sighs and looks back to the water.  It is calming, he guesses. In its own way. 

The trip to Montauk had been Marilyn’s idea. 

I think you boys need time away after–well, after everything. 

It was the night after the press conference. Jack was meant to be asleep. He wasn’t. His body hadn’t come down from the day yet. He wasn’t sure it ever would. He was tucked in his bed with Carl, listening to Joe and his mother in the kitchen. 

I’m not sure if he’s ready, you know? The–the interviews and the press conference? I don’t want him to– 

Bear, he did so well. You both did. Jack is strong. 

I know. Joe’s voice was hard, snappish. Then, softer. I know. 

Jack closed his eyes then. He was strong. But he was so tired. He pressed his face into Carl’s fur. 

I’m only saying that it’s been a long road to get here. You’ve both been shut up here so long–and the WRU people, I don’t think they’ll be content to leave you alone.

So you’re saying we’ve got to go? 

Marilyn sighed. I’ve already phoned ahead. There’s a cottage on the Sound. I’ve booked you for two weeks. I’ll see if I can’t get the rest of this straightened out while you’re gone. 

What if– Joe’s breath came out in a wet snap. Mama, what if it’s too much for him? To be alone with me like that? I don’t want to– 

Joey, you’ve been alone. 

You know what I mean. We–we used to do that all the time. Go to the beach. Sometimes–I–sometimes–

Jack knew Joe was crying. Again. Because of him. Jack bit his lip. He was strong. He was. Carl nuzzled his face. 

Bear? Jack could practically see Marilyn crouched down in front of Joe, her green eyes just like his, but softer at their edges. 

When we do the things we used to, it hurts. Because I don’t think he remembers them the way I do. Peters, he–he fucking–

Shhhh. Bear. It doesn’t matter now. What matters is making new memories, things that no one can take away from you. 

Joe’s breath hitched. What if we can’t?

Jack felt his gut seize. If they couldn’t, it would be because of him. Because of his weakness. Carl felt him tense and batted at Jack’s shoulder with his paw. 

Joseph Anthony, you stop it, Marilyn said. We haven’t fought this hard for you to scare yourself out of being happy now. Jack hasn’t fought this hard for you to give up on him. 

I would never give up on him. 

Then, don’t. And don’t give up on yourself either. I know you, Joe. I can see those wheels turning. You’re almost there–don’t be afraid to breathe. 

Jack heard Joe’s feet head for his bedroom then, and he pretended to be asleep. They had already started touching again, so Jack wasn’t surprised when he felt Joe’s weight settle next to him on the mattress. Joe leaned down to press a kiss to Jack’s forehead. 

I would never give up on you, baby. Stay with me. 

As if Jack has any other choice. 

But he does. He has choices now.

He wouldn’t choose to leave Joe.

His bare feet move a step closer to the water’s edge. The sun is almost gone, and the Sound is darker, waves sneaking up on the shore like thieves. It’s hard to tell what color they are now. Not quite blue, almost grey, sort of green. Jack wonders what it might be like to be a wave. To move freely, so close with its mates. To crash against something solid and have the upper hand. 

“Jackie?” 

Joe’s voice is almost lost in the wind, but Jack still turns. He can just barely make out Joe’s smile–tired, maybe, and a little worried, but still there, still real–in the gathering dark. 

“Jackie, it’s suppertime.”

“Be right there,” Jack calls. 

His eyes search for the sun one more time. A sliver of molten light peeks out over the Sound, and then it disappears. Clouds are starting to move in. The air feels suddenly wet, like skin after a bath. 

He’s missed this. He’s missed everything. 

The kitchen is warm and, well, a fucking disaster. But Joe insisted on cooking. The trouble with that is that Joe can really only make one thing–spaghetti–and that means there’s red sauce. Everywhere. Including all over Joe. 

Jack closes the door behind him with a half-laugh. “Joey, what–” 

“It’ll be delicious, I swear,” Joe says, rubbing a splotch of sauce from his nose. 

“I know it will,” Jack replies. He wipes his sandy feet on the mat and pads over to Joe, wrapping his arms around Joe’s waist from behind. The gesture is soft, hesitant, but Joe squeezes him back. 

“Was it nice out there?” Joe asks. 

Jack can hear the concern in his voice; he must have been outside for longer than he thought. Jack knows that Joe worries, that he thinks Jack might disappear again. Not literally, of course, just–into himself. Like he was when he came home. 

Jack doesn’t want Joe to worry, not anymore. He leans to kiss Joe’s cheek, noting that, inexplicably, there’s sauce behind his ear. He stifles a laugh. “It was nice. I think a storm is coming in, though.” 

“Well, then I’m glad you came in,” says Joe. “We’ll stay cozy tonight, huh?” 

“Yeah.” 

Jack gives Joe one more gentle squeeze and then lets him go. It hurts him a little, to pull away. It took so long for them to touch again that Jack is almost greedy for it now. When Joe touches him, he feels safe, almost like himself. Like Joe’s touch erases Ivan’s. But Jack doesn’t want to ask for it. He isn’t supposed to ask. 

Except that he is. He can. It’s just so hard to remember. 

“Jackie?” 

Jack starts. “What? Sorry.” 

“You’re okay, baby,” Joe says softly. He turns from the stove, and his sweater is a Jackson Pollack of sauce and starchy water spots. He reaches for Jack’s hand, and Jack gives it willingly. It’s easiest when Joe initiates. Jack knows how to give someone what they want. It’s what he was made for. 

It isn’t. But it is. 

He must drift again, because Joe squeezes his hand. “Ready to eat?” 

“Yeah,” Jack says. He smiles. “Should I just lick your sweater, or what?” 

“Funny boy,” Joe grumbles. “I set the table. Just give me a minute, and I’ll serve.” 

Jack goes to the table, where Joe has gone to the trouble of making place cards, even though it’s just the two of them. Jack sits at the place marked Jackie ❤ in Joe’s hackneyed chicken-scratch. Taper candles burn in the center of the table, and red wine is already decanted in stemless glasses.Jack knows Joe wants tonight to be special. It’s their first night really and truly alone together in a very long time.  

There were lots of nights like this one before. There haven’t been any since. 

Jack wonders if Joe is as terrified as he is. 

They make it through the meal in murmured conversation. Somewhere between his first and second glass of wine, Jack’s bare foot starts to rub over Joe’s cotton sock. Joe’s sweater hangs from the back of his chair, and he’s left in only his undershirt, which he, somehow, miraculously manages to keep clean during dinner. In the candlelight, Joe looks softer, not quite so tired. There’s a lazy smile on his face, a smudge of purple on his bottom lip. Jack can’t help but stare. 

“--but Mama says that she should be able to find a place soon, so–” Joe stops. His nose wrinkles. “Do I have something on my face?” 

Jack can’t help himself then. He leans forward, cupping Joe’s face in both his hands, and kisses him. 

Joe makes a sort of muffled noise of surprise, and Jack pulls away, cheeks red. Every muscle is suddenly tense, and it takes a moment for him to realize that he’s waiting to be punished. Joe sees it too. 

“Hey.” Joe’s hand slides across the tabletop toward Jack’s arm. “Hey, Jackie.” 

“I–I’m sorry,” Jack blurts, squeezing his eyes shut. It was wrong. He shouldn’t have done it. It isn’t his choice. Or it is, but—“I didn’t–I shouldn’t have–it’s for you to decide, and I–” 

Joe stops short of touching him. He isn’t smiling anymore. “Baby, I–”

Jack wraps his arms around himself, but it isn’t enough. He wants Joe. He wants Joe to hold him, to tell him that everything will be okay. It’s a relief to want that again. But Joe doesn’t move, and Jack doesn’t know how to ask him to.

“I’m sorry,” Jack says again. The red sauce is acid in his stomach. 

“Don’t be.” Joe’s voice is so soft that Jack almost doesn’t hear it. “I just–you know that you can touch me, don’t you?” 

Jack nods. Because he does know. Except that he doesn’t believe it, no matter how badly he wants to. He’s forgotten how.

Ivan is still there. Inside his head.  Even after all this time. 

“Baby?” Joe presses. His fingers inch closer to Jack but still don’t make contact. “Stay with me. Please.” 

“I’m sorry.” It’s all he can think of to say. 

The windows rattle with a gust of wind. Jack can hear the soft pelt of rain on the glass. The storm is moving in.

Joe shifts out of his chair, gently unwrapping Jack’s fingers from his arm and taking his hand. He presses feather-light kisses to each knuckle and sinks to his knees beside Jack. He looks up, green eyes wide in the dim light. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Jackie.” 

Jack looks down uncertainly. He doesn’t know what to make of Joe on his knees. That’s not Joe’s place. It’s his. Ivan told him– 

“Jack.” Joe’s voice is stronger now. He reaches for Jack’s other hand. “You’re here. With me. And you didn’t do anything wrong. Do you hear me?” 

Jack nods. He does hear Joe, almost. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knows that Joe is right. That Jack is free. That he gets to choose. But even now, he can’t help the feeling that he’s fucked up. 

Ivan would have muzzled him for using his mouth for anything other than its intended purpose; Jack can almost feel the leather on his skin. Ivan would have shoved him in his crate. And then—after Jack had time to learn his lesson—then, Ivan would have—

Joe squeezes his hands; they’re shaking. “You’re allowed to touch me. I want you to touch me. And I want you to do whatever it is that you want to do.” 

“What if–” 

Jack looks away, and Joe lets his hands go. “What is it, baby?” 

“What if I don’t know?” 

“What you want?” Joe asks. 

Jack shakes his head. “If I–I don’t–I can’t–Joey, I’m not supposed to ask.” 

“For what? Jackie?” 

Jack hunches over himself, hiding his face in his hands. “I’m not supposed to ask for what I want. Because–because–”

Joe sits back on his ass. He looks utterly defeated.  “Because you’re not supposed to want anything.”

Jack nods silently. A clap of thunder sounds miles away. The rain comes down a little harder.

“Jackie. I–I thought we’d worked past all that. You–you know that what Peters told you–it was wrong.” 

“I know,” Jack whispers. And he does. He does– “But I don’t. I don’t–it’s so fucked up. I’m so fucked up.” 

“No, you’re not,” Joe says immediately. 

He presses up on his knees again, and, after a moment’s hesitation, wraps his arms around Jack’s middle. Joe’s touch is still light, careful. Jack wants to sink into it, but he doesn’t know how to let himself.  

The clapboard shutters bang in the wind. Neither of them seems to notice.

“You’ve been through hell. You–that bastard fucked with your head. He hurt you. But you’re home now. There aren’t any–rules between us. We’re equal partners. And you can ask for what you want, same as I can,” Joe says, his voice firm. He leans back so he can look at Jack. “And we’re both allowed to say no. You’re allowed to say no, Jackie.” 

“Okay,” Jack says meekly. 

“Do you want me to let go?” 

Jack shakes his head. “No.” 

He wants Joe to hold him as long as he can. 

“I don’t want to let go either,” Joe says softly. He presses his face to Jack’s body. “I love you.” 

Electric blue slices across the sky.

“I love you too,” Jack says. He swallows another apology and returns Joe’s embrace, running his fingers tentatively through Joe’s dark hair. It feels strange to touch rather than be touched. He’s missed this too. “Joe, I–” 

“What is it?” 

“I want–” Jack’s stomach lurches at the words, “I want–would you–” 

Joe seems to know what Jack cannot say. He kneels up, and his nose slides against the underside of Jack’s jaw. “May I kiss you?” 

“Yes.” Please, he thinks, but does not say.

Joe’s hands loop around Jack’s neck and guide him down for their lips to meet. It’s soft and gentle, Joe’s lips slipping against Jack’s. Jack’s lips part, and he tastes wine–he tastes Joe, and all at once, he can’t help himself. 

He wants. He wants, and for a moment, he forgets. He presses hard against Joe, letting his tongue slip between Joe’s lips. Joe acquiesces. His head falls back, and he lets Jack explore, his thumbs anchored lightly on the hinge of Jack’s jaw. 

“Come here,” Jack murmurs, sinking his teeth into Joe’s bottom lip. Joe groans, and the sound rocks Jack to his core. “Joey, come here.” 

Joe rises from his knees. He kisses Jack again and pulls him to his feet. 

“I’m here, baby,” Joe says, his voice suddenly low and husky. “What do you want?” 

“You,” Jack says without hesitation. 

He wraps his arms around Joe’s ribs and buries his face in the crook of his neck. Ginger, basil, sandalwood. He thinks of how he would wrap Joe’s hoodie around him at night, of how badly it hurt when Joe’s scent was replaced by his own filth. How, sometimes, he couldn’t remember where the hoodie had come from at all–just that it was important. That he needed it. 

Joe presses a kiss to his temple and holds him close. “I want you. I never stopped.” 

“Me either,” Jack says. 

It isn’t strictly true; they both know it, but it doesn’t matter. Not just now. 

They stay that way for a moment, just holding one another. Jack thinks he could hear their hearts beating if it weren’t for the rain. Light flashes against Joe’s skin, and thunder rumbles closer. 

“Joe.” 

It isn’t a question, because Jack still doesn’t know how to ask. 

He knows that Joe wants him to take the lead. He understands it. Joe doesn’t want to hurt him, doesn’t want anything to send him back to Ivan’s basement. Joe wants him to feel safe. And Jack is supposed to make choices, supposed to take charge. And this–this is something he wants. Jack actually fucking wants something. It isn’t Ivan. It isn’t Bill. It isn’t any of the nameless, faceless men that Jack gave himself to because he didn’t believe he deserved any better. He never wanted any of it. 

But he wants Joe.

He leans forward, cupping his hands on either side of the column of Joe’s neck, and he presses a kiss to the pink hollow behind Joe’s ear. 

Joe’s breath shakes when he lets it go. “Jackie–” 

Jack lets the tip of his tongue skate gently against Joe’s pulse point. Joe gasps, and Jack presses him closer. Joe tilts his head backward, and Jack kisses down his neck, each press of his lips so soft that he isn’t sure Joe can feel it at all. 

But Joe does. “Jesus,” he murmurs, more breath than voice. His grip tightens around Jack’s ribs. 

They haven’t gone this far. Not since Jack came home. Jack couldn’t; Joe wouldn’t. 

“Can we?” Jack whispers. “I mean, do you think–” 

Joe pulls back. “Are you sure?” 

He isn’t. But he doesn’t know that he’ll ever be sure. He only knows that he’s afraid to stop now. That if he doesn’t seize the moment, it may not come again. He presses his lips to Joe’s. 

“Yes.” 

Joe’s hands soften, and one moves to brush Jack’s cheek. Jack knows he wants to ask again, but he doesn’t. “Okay then.”

Jack kisses him again, and then, he twines their fingers together. Forks of lightning crack the night sky in two, and thunder answers, just a little bit louder than the last time. It’s coming closer. 

Jack leads Joe to his bedroom. They’d stashed their things in separate rooms when they arrived; there’s a delicate balance that can’t be upset. They are together, but there is distance. To keep Jack safe. To let him heal. 

There was distance. There isn’t now. And Jack won’t let himself slow down enough to consider what that means. 

He pulls Joe to him with desperate arms. He wants Joe. He wants this. He does. His lips crash against Joe’s, and then his tongue pushes past Joe’s lips, through them, pressing, moving, sliding. Jack angles his head, easing himself deeper, and Joe makes a little noise at the back of his throat. Their bodies are flush against one another, Joe’s hands still firm on his ribs. Jack bucks his hips forward, and for once, the electricity he feels isn’t pulsing from a collar at his neck. 

But the feeling stops him. It isn’t–he isn’t supposed to–he can’t–

He tenses, and Joe breaks off the kiss. His lips are red and wet.  

“Baby?” 

“I’m fine,” Jack says, chest beating. 

“You’re not,” Joe says softly. He starts to pull away. “We don’t have to–”

“No!” Jack cries. He grasps Joe’s forearms, and Christ, he’s about to start crying. “No, please, I want to. I want to, I just–please, Joey, don’t let go.” 

“I won’t,” Joe reassures him. He eases them down until they are sitting on the bed, still holding Jack in his arms. 

Ivan never held him. Neither did Bill. They used him. Teased him enough to make him think he was complicit, that he wanted what they gave. Joe wouldn’t do that. He knows it. Or at least he should. 

“Jackie–” 

“I–” Jack buries his face against the soft white cotton of Joe’s undershirt. “I want to. But I’m scared.” 

Joe’s ribs expand beneath his cheek. “It’s okay, Jackie.” 

He doesn’t say that there’s nothing to be scared of because, of course, there is. 

“Sometimes, it feels like he’ll know. If I break the rules.” 

“Oh, Jackie–” 

“I’m not supposed to feel good. Not unless you tell me.” 

Joe’s arms tighten around him. “That isn’t true. You–”

“I know! I know. But it–it feels true.” Jack grinds his face into Joe’s chest. “And I feel like I’m supposed to be punished. For being so selfish.” 

“You’re not selfish,” Joe says, his voice hard. “You’re–Jesus, Jackie. I told you. There aren’t any rules. No punishments. If you want something, take it. And if you don’t, that’s okay.” A kiss drops to Jack’s hair.  

“I want it, Joey,” Jack whispers. It still feels like tempting fate. “You. I want you.” 

“I’m yours,” says Joe. He ducks his head, tucking Jack’s chin with his fingers. He kisses Jack, gently. “If you’ll have me. But you don’t have to–” 

“I know. I know I don’t have to.” 

“Okay,” Joe says softly. 

“Okay.” 

Jack reaches up and presses a tentative hand to Joe’s cheek. Joe turns his head and kisses Jack’s palm. The rain is white noise around them. There’s a flicker of lightning in the windows, and the thunder sounds. It’s not to them quite yet. 

They shift. Jack turns and pulls Joe down onto the overstuffed mattress with him. Joe’s hands are still shy, uncertain; it doesn’t seem he knows where to put them, or even if he should. Jack isn’t sure either. But he is sure that he doesn’t want Joe to stop touching him. He needs to replace the ghosts of unwanted hands with something warm and real. 

He reaches for Joe’s hand and guides it behind his own neck. 

“Kiss me,” he says. “Please.”

Joe complies, lips sweet and warm against Jack’s. “Now what, baby?” he whispers.

“Again.” And he doesn’t say please. 

Joe does what he’s told. He kisses Jack’s lips, his nose, and then the hinge of his jaw. His lips skip a gentle patter down Jack’s scarred throat, until they find the divot between his collarbones; Joe pulls the crewneck of Jack’s sweater out of the way with his teeth and sweeps his tongue into the hollow. 

It’s Jack’s turn to groan. 

“Please,” he breathes. “Please, Joey.” 

Please is for begging. The words echo in his mind no matter how much he wishes they did not. And maybe he is begging. He would drop to his knees for Joe without thought. 

But Joe would never ask him to. 

Jack’s chest rises and falls, faster than it probably should. 

Joe waits. “What, baby?” 

“Keep–keep going.” 

Joe nods. Jack is relieved when he doesn’t ask if he’s sure. Joe trusts him. He can choose. 

Joe’s hands are gentle as they slip down Jack’s body, upending the hem of his heavy sweater. Joe slides it over Jack’s head, and static electricity crackles between them. Jack’s hands are pinned above him, wrapped in the heavy wool, but somehow, he doesn’t mind. He tilts his chin, and Joe answers him with a kiss, tongue slipping against Jack’s bottom lip like a whisper. Joe tugs the sweater free and tosses it on the floor. His hand ghosts over Jack’s body, still covered by a white cotton tee-shirt. Joe stops just short of the button-fly on Jack’s jeans. 

“Jackie?”

“It’s okay, you can–” 

Joe shakes his head. “No. It’s just that–I feel like I should–” 

Joe shifts, sitting up to slough off his undershirt. He lets it fall to the floor, where it lands on top of Jack’s sweater. 

Jack’s breath stops. He’d forgotten just how beautiful Joe is. There’s another flash of lightning, and the blue light echoes for just a moment across the contours of Joe’s pale chest. Maybe a little less defined, maybe just a bit softer, but still gorgeous. Familiar. The thunder rumbles, and this time, Jack can almost feel it inside him. 

“There. We’re even, right?” Joe asks.

They aren’t. Jack plucks at his own undershirt. “No.” 

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to–” 

Jack sits up and pulls his undershirt off before he can stop himself. “Now we’re even,” he says softly. 

Joe’s eyes move over his body, and Jack resists the urge to hunch and cover himself. He looks away. He’s changed too. He’s thinner, of course, and laid bare this way, he knows that Joe can see his scars. 

He opens his mouth to apologize, but he’s stopped by Joe’s lips, soft against the rough skin that rings his throat. Joe’s hands wrap around his bare shoulders, and the feeling is too much. Skin against skin, but not the way he remembers. There is no friction, no pain. Joe’s hands are careful. Tender. 

Joe’s mouth travels from his throat down the length of his arm, his kisses peppering Jack’s wrist. His lips lay a gentle path across Jack’s belly so that he can do the same to his other wrist. 

Jack doesn’t notice his own tears until one drops onto Joe’s cheek. 

Joe looks up. “Jack?” 

“I love you,” Jack says. 

Joe thumbs away Jack’s tears, one by one. “I love you too.” 

“I–I missed you.” Jack closes his eyes, and he lets Joe’s hands sweep to his face, Joe’s thumbs soft on the apples of his cheeks. “I missed this.” 

“I did too,” Joe says softly. “You don’t know how much.” 

Joe kisses Jack again, his need just barely disguised. The thunder cracks the sky directly overhead, and the house shakes around them. 

The air in the bedroom feels suddenly charged. Joe’s fingers pluck at Jack’s fly; Jack rolls Joe’s sweats away from his hips. They are not measured; there is no distance left. Limbs knit together as fabric slides away; hips roll; lips crash. 

Every touch of their skin is electric. Jack’s spine zings with unfamiliar bolts of pleasure as Joe’s mouth works its way across every inch of his bare skin. The soft swirl of a tongue around his nipple, an open-mouthed kiss beneath his ribs, a gentle nip at the crest of his hip. 

Jack isn’t sure that he’s even breathing. It’s been so long. No one’s touched him this way in so long. Ivan was not gentle, and he’d made Jack believe that Joe–but no, no, Joe had never hurt him. Would never hurt him. 

Joe loves him. And Jack loves Joe. Ivan can’t hurt him anymore. He’s safe, he’s safe, he’s safe. 

The tip of Joe’s nose tickles through the soft trail of hair beneath Jack’s navel. Jack’s body moves on its own, arching to meet Joe. And then, Joe shifts, guiding Jack to the edge of the bed. He sinks to his knees between Jack’s legs, laying a gentle patter of kisses along the inside of Jack’s thigh. He nuzzles into the cleft between Jack’s legs, his breath warm and wet. 

Jack is heavy with his own desire, but as Joe looks up at him, he can’t help the feeling that he doesn’t deserve this. It’s not Joe’s place; it’s his. He’s the one who should be on his knees. 

When he speaks, his words sound fuzzy and far away. “Joe–Joey, you don’t–” 

“Let me make you feel good, baby,” Joe murmurs. He presses his lips to Jack’s tip, and Jack shudders. “Please. You deserve to feel good.” 

Joe takes him down then, slow, tongue sliding gently along the underside of Jack’s cock; he pulls back again, just as slowly. His hands find an anchor point on Jack’s hips, and he starts to move, deliberately working Jack deeper and deeper. He moves carefully. He does not tease. He keeps his eyes on Jack’s in the dark. 

Tears spring to Jack’s eyes as Joe’s rhythm mounts. He doesn’t know how to process his own pleasure. His broken pieces start to whisper: he’s done nothing to earn it, he’s supposed to earn it. He doesn’t deserve this man. He doesn’t deserve to feel so good. 

But he does feel good. And he feels good because Joe wants him to. Because Joe loves him. And–oh, God–and–fuck–and– 

It doesn’t take long; Jack can’t resist. There’s nothing to fight. 

Joe’s fingers sink into his hips, and, when Jack finishes, Joe suckles gently along Jack’s shaft. The wet heat of Joe’s tongue and the soft press of his lips coax every last bit of Jack’s release. Joe’s lips are red and shiny when he rises from his knees. He lays a trembling Jack back into the sheets. 

The thunder rolls, distant now. The rain is soft on the window. Joe tucks in next to Jack, both their naked bodies slick and sticky with perspiration. Joe’s fingers playing absently with Jack’s hair. 

“Are you alright?” Joe asks. “I shouldn’t have–” 

Jack reaches to grab Joe’s hand. He kisses it. “Thank you.”

“Baby, you don’t have to thank me.” 

“I want to,” Jack whispers. “I–I didn’t know I could feel like that anymore.” 

He isn’t supposed to feel like that. He knows it. Boys like him aren’t meant to. But maybe, with Joe–

Jack knows that he’s supposed to ignore the things that Ivan told him, but somewhere, in the back of his mind, he can still hear Ivan’s words. Don’t you think it’s wrong to consign Joe to take what you give him? 

He wants to give Joe so much more. Jack needs to know that he can do it–not because someone is forcing him to, but because he wants to. Because it will feel good with Joe. 

It will feel safe. 

“I told you,” Joe says. You deserve to feel good.” 

Jack rolls so that they are face to face. “So do you.”

“I do,” Joe insists. “Seeing you like that? Doing that for you? I–Jesus, Jackie. I could live forever on that.” 

“But you shouldn’t have to,” Jack says softly. 

He rolls so that they are face to face, flush against one another. Jack’s cock is soft now, still twitching against his leg. Joe’s is not. 

“I want you to take me,” Jack says. 

Joe’s brow wrinkles. “What?” 

“I want you to take me,” he says again. Then, softly: “I want you to fuck me.” 

Joe’s arms tighten around him. “Baby, no–” 

Jack shakes his head. “I want this. I–I want to feel you, Joey. I don’t want to feel–to feel him anymore.” 

It’s Joe’s eyes that fill with tears then. “Oh.” 

“And I want to make you feel good,” Jack says. He bobs forward and presses his lips to Joe’s. “Please, Joe. I want to.” 

Joe hesitates. “I–Jackie, you don’t have to do this. Whatever he made you believe, I won’t–” 

“I believe in you,” Jack says. “I want you.”

Joe’s fingertips trace over Jack’s cheekbones. “I want you too, baby, but I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.” 

“No, I won’t.” 

Joe kisses him, slow and soft, and then he rises off the bed. He slips into the en suite and returns with a little black shaving kit. He sets it on the bedside table and kneels next to the bed, taking Jack’s hand. 

“Baby, I want you. I need you to know that. I–I can’t say that I’ve never thought about what this would be like, because I have. But I–if we start, and you want to stop, we stop. If anything hurts, we stop. If something happens and it reminds you of–just–we’ll stop. This is not something you have to do.” 

“I know,” Jack says meekly. “I want to. I do.” 

Joe reaches out to cup his cheek. “And I–I need to see your face. And I want you to see mine.” 

Jack can only nod. 

“Can you lie back for me?” Joe asks. 

Jack complies, even though it is not an order. He lets Joe slowly part his legs, bending his knees as he lays them out on the mattress. Joe kisses his knee, and then he dips his hand into the shaving kit. He uncaps the bottle of lube, and Jack’s belly quickens. 

“We don’t have to–”

“No,” Jack murmurs, settling back against the pillows. He knows that he’s shaking, but it doesn’t matter. He needs Joe. He knows it. “No, I’m ready.” 

Joe gently guides one of Jack’s knees up toward his chest, and he holds Jack’s eyes. “I’m going to touch you, Jackie. Okay?” 

Jack nods, and he feels one wet finger whisper softly against his entrance. Joe’s fingertip moves in a soft circle before it presses gently in. 

Jack closes his eyes. It isn’t Ivan. It isn’t. He wants this. He wants Joe. 

Joe’s touch withdraws. “Jack. Jackie, I need you to look at me.” 

Jack opens his eyes. Joe’s face is a mask of concern. 

“Keep going,” Jack says. “I’m okay.” 

This time, he holds Joe���s eyes as another finger presses inside. Joe is slow and tender, gently curling his fingertips against Jack’s walls. He pumps out and adds a third finger, working Jack open with care. Jack moans, and it is not because he is frightened; it’s because it feels good. 

Joe pauses. “Baby?” 

“Joey. I–can we–” 

Joe’s up in an instant, his lips on Jack’s. He positions himself between Jack’s splayed legs, working himself with a wet hand. Then, Joe covers Jack’s body with his own, kissing Jack’s neck, his collarbone, his chest.

“You’re sure?” Joe asks. 

“I’m sure,” Jack breathes. 

Joe gently raises Jack’s legs, hitching them around his own hips. They are pressed skin to skin. Joe’s eyes are serious. He kisses Jack’s cheek. 

“I love you, Jackie.” 

“I love you,” Jack whispers. 

Joe fills him slowly, like water from a tap. 

It’s like nothing Jack has ever felt before. With the others, he was always reminded of his place. Fucked from behind. Hurt. The sweet boy. The little whore. The good toy. Boxed up and shipped out. Ivan told him that’s how it would end. That’s always how it was going to end. 

But there is no ending. There is only Joe. Jack can feel it in the way Joe’s hips shift and roll, desperate to get closer, needy for him: they are one. Jack feels deep and boundless. Free.

“I love you,” Joe says again. “Fuck, I love you.” 

“Joey,” Jack breathes. His head falls back as Joe moves. Their chests slip against one another, and Joe angles to reach for Jack, to stroke him in time with the roll of their bodies. Jack feels himself rising again. “Oh, God. Joe.” 

“You’re safe,” Joe whispers, and he rolls against Jack like a wave. “You will always be safe.” 

Jack wraps his arms around Joe, tilting his hips to let Joe thrust deeper. Joe’s hand falls away, but it doesn’t matter. They are locked together now, and Joe moves faster, falling into Jack with abandon. Jack’s body vibrates with long-deferred pleasure. It falls on him like a wave. 

They move together until Joe’s rhythm breaks against Jack’s shore. 

“Jack–Jack–” 

Jack is warm. Jack is floating in Joe’s arms. Jack can only feel Joe.

Joe’s sweat damp curls are warm on Jack’s chest. Jack smooths the hair away from Joe’s face, and Joe presses a kiss to his breastbone. 

“Are you alright?” Joe asks, still breathless. “Jackie?” 

Jack nods, fingers playing with the curls at the nape of Joe’s neck. They’re quiet now, spent and boneless. Eventually, Joe falls asleep, his breath warm against Jack’s chest. Jack stares into the darkness. 

Soft rain still patters on the window, but the thunder and lightning have gone. He thinks of the way lightning strikes turn sand to glass, binding it forever to the moment of its own destruction–but making something beautiful all the same. Something that someone will pick up and keep safe. Something stronger than when it started.

He sighs and wraps Joe in his arms. He knows there are things that he can’t escape, but at least, for now, he is safe—and he is stronger than when he started.

taglist: @oddsconvert, @darkthingshappen, @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump, @sparrowsage, @aut0psy-s, @mylifeisonthebookshelf, @no-terms-and-conditions-apply, @goldywhump, @reflected-pain, @darlingwhump, @squishablesunbeam, @dont-be-gentle-please, @deltaxxk, @irishwhiskeygrl, @keep-beach-city-weridcity-werid (please send me a message if I missed you)

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Pomegranate Ink: V

Series Synopsis: Unable to heal but willing to fight, with a fiancé in Kyoto and a last name that looms over everything you do, you accept an offer to study at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech. What you did not know was that your salvation and your ruination alike would soon join you at the school, neatly wrapped in the form of a boy followed by death.

Chapter Synopsis: Gojo’s love of sweets puts you and Tullia in a sticky situation.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Yuta Okkotsu × Female Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.4K

Content Warnings: angst, misogyny, naoya zenin, forbidden relationships, canon-typical violence, character death, original characters included

A/N: i need you guys to ignore the way maki and Y/N are like lowkey in love with each other it was not even intentional on my part

“Y/N! And Maki!” Gojo trilled when you walked into the classroom, Maki at your side. “What are you two arguing about?”

“Which adult sorcerer is the most attractive,” you said, not feeling the need to hide it from Gojo.

“Really?” Gojo said, leaning forwards, “And who would that be? I mean, of course you both said me —”

“I think it’s Utahime Iori, the head teacher from Kyoto,” Maki said, interrupting him. You frowned.

“But I’m convinced it’s Kento Nanami! Something about the permanently-exhausted businessman vibe is so dreamy,” you said, swooning like a schoolgirl with her first crush. Gojo froze, his jaw dropping.

“W-what?” he said.

“Is there a problem with that?” you said.

“Let’s ask Tullia!” he said, nodding at the blonde girl, who had just entered the room with a cup of coffee in her hand. She pointed at herself as if questioning what he wanted with her. “Tullia! Who’s the most attractive adult sorcerer?”

“Principal Yaga,” she said promptly.

You all stared at her in confusion. She blinked back innocently.

“Huh?” you said. “Principal Yaga? Like the dude that spends his time making creepy cursed puppets?”

“That’s my father you’re talking about!” Panda said. He stood in the doorway with Toge, who seemed very puzzled by the conversation. “Actually, why are you talking about him?”

“Tullia thinks he’s the most attractive adult sorcerer,” Maki said, “Somehow.”

“What about you two?” Gojo demanded, voice breaking, “Who do you think is the most attractive adult sorcerer?”

“I’m a panda,” Panda deadpanned.

“Fair enough,” you said.

“Toge?” Maki said.

“Salmon,” he said, making a bird shape with his hands.

“Mei-Mei?” you said. He nodded. “Hm, she’s pretty, but her whole thing with her brother is so odd…”

“Salmon,” he said with a shrug.

“I guess we are only going off of looks, so that’s valid,” you agreed. “Where’s Yuta? We have to ask him now.”

“Sorry I’m late, guys, I couldn’t find my left sock,” Yuta said, “It was under my bed. In case anyone was wondering.”

“Gross, you wore a dirty sock to class?” Maki said.

“No, it’s clean. It was just under my bed,” he explained.

“Yuta!” Tullia said. “Who do you think the most attractive adult sorcerer is?”

“Uh, probably Gojo?” he said, taken aback by the question. The room went quiet as you all considered this. The silence was only broken by a sniffling sound.

“Y-you really think so?” Gojo said.

“I mean, you’re the only adult sorcerer I know…” Yuta said, though Gojo ignored this.

“I knew there was a reason you’re my favorite!” he cheered, pumping his fist in the air.

“I thought I was your favorite,” you said.

“Not anymore. Not after you picked Nanami over me,” he said.

“Ouch,” Maki said, “That’s gotta sting.”

“It does,” you said, “After everything I’ve done for him, Yuta’s going to replace me? It’s just — it hurts my feelings is all. I thought he’d be more loyal than that, more loyal than to take my spot as Gojo’s favorite.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Yuta said contritely.

“You did it to yourself,” Gojo said. “Anyways! We’re having a bit of a different class today, by which I mean everyone’s getting split up. Yuta, you’re going to train with Maki — she’ll help you learn how to use a sword.”

“Yikes,” you said, “Maybe he isn’t your favorite after all.”

Yuta gave you a terrified look. From her spot next to you, Maki began to snicker; it was a terrifying sound. He began to inch backwards, which only fuelled her glee.

“Don’t get too hasty! Y/N, you and Tullia are going to go take care of some curses at this bakery I love. Their desserts have been all out of whack for the entire week! I need the two of you on this, as soon as possible. If I have to go one more day without my favorite sweets, I’ll — I’ll — I’ll quit and become a math teacher!” Gojo said.

“That’s going to hurt you more than it hurts us,” Panda said.

“It’s self-sabotage in the purest form,” Maki agreed.

“Don’t worry, Gojo! The world doesn’t need you as an actual math teacher; we’ll save your bakery,” you said.

“Thank you,” he said with a nod, “I knew I could count on you. Panda, Toge, you two will, uh…hang around?”

“Bonito flakes,” Toge said with a sigh. You felt bad for the two; they were the most experienced of you all, which meant they were often pushed to the side so that opportunities for growth could be presented to you, Maki, Yuta, and Tullia.

“Toge! You can show me that new recipe for the triple-layer strawberry chocolate wedding cake we were talking about earlier!” Panda said. Toge clenched his fist in determination, a new fire blazing in his eyes.

“Why are you guys making wedding cakes?” you said.

“Well, it’s not like we have much else to do, since Gojo refuses to actually teach us,” Panda said, “So at the moment, we’re focused on learning baking. It’s pretty therapeutic!”

“That’s great to hear,” you said.

“Let me try some once we’re back!” Tullia said.

“Salmon,” Toge said, flashing her a thumbs up before following Panda towards, presumably, the kitchens.

“Poor Toge and Panda,” you said. “Gojo, you should really start planning better activities for them.”

“Okay, maybe I have been encouraging their baking habits recently, but it’s only because I can’t find good desserts anywhere else!” he whined.

“So it’s on purpose?” Maki said, “That’s harsh. They’re nice kids, and they do need training, too.”

“You’re acting like I’m neglecting them,” Gojo said, “It’s not just for selfish reasons. It’s helping them learn patience and how to be supportive. With a technique like Toge’s, especially, it’s important for him to be comfortable with being on the sidelines and leaving the fighting to his teammates.”

“You’re so wise, Gojo,” Yuta said, “I guess this is why you’re the teacher and we’re just your students.”

“Yeah, alright, don’t suck up to him too much,” Maki said, “Come on, newbie. Let’s go; be prepared! By the time we’re done with training today, you won’t be able to feel your extremities.”

“Is that legal?” Yuta said, teeth chattering.

“I won’t be the one to report her if it isn’t,” you said. Gojo and Tullia both nodded as well, leaving Yuta to trail after Maki like a kicked puppy, his head hung in anticipation of the beating she would probably deliver.

“I’ll make sure she’s not too tough on him,” Gojo assured you once they were gone, “I’m not heartless.”

“That’s kind of you to do. Is Ijichi the one taking us?” you said, a little less worried now that you knew Yuta would not be left to fend for himself.

“Obviously. He actually likes driving you around; what’s the secret? I can never convince him to take me places!” Gojo said.

“There’s not really a secret to it, honestly,” you said.

“Fine, then. Keep your mysteries, L/N woman. Good luck on your mission! Please get my bakery back! I miss it so much,” Gojo said.

“Will do,” Tullia said.

“We won’t let you down,” you said. Once you had left Gojo to do whatever it was that he did in his free time, you cocked your head, trying to figure out Tullia. She was serene, walking beside you and sipping on her coffee as if she had all of the time in the world. She was from America, you recalled; you decided that might be a good subject of conversation if things got awkward.

“So. You’re obviously a really talented sorcerer, since you saved me from that curse in Kaito’s apartment and you were assigned to accompany Yuta on his first mission,” Tullia said. You shrugged.

“Not really. I’m certainly not weak, but I wouldn’t say I’m far above average or anything. I’ve had support on all of my missions, and I was only with Yuta so that Gojo could test his control over Rika,” you said.

“Is that a guess, or is that the real story?” she said.

“A bit of both. Considering that he did not seem to be upset when she manifested, I put together that he was probably expecting or at least hoping for the outcome. Combined with what I already know about the higher ups, it’s not a difficult conclusion to arrive at,” you said.

“You’re a L/N, right? The Reverse Cursed Technique family?” she said.

“That’s right, though obviously I can’t use mine. It’s fighting for me, I’m afraid,” you said.

“No worries! I’ll do my best not to get hurt,” she said.

“You should be doing that regardless,” you said with a frown.

“Anyways, that’s not why I was asking. You’re probably pretty familiar with how society works around here, right? What’s the scoop? What’re the higher ups like? Kaito didn’t seem like a huge fan of them, but I don’t know if that’s just him being him or if there’s some merit to it,” she said.

“Don’t repeat this, but I’m sorry to say that his words hold weight. The higher ups are doing what they think is best for jujutsu sorcerers, but it can feel so frustrating at times, you know? They’re partially the reason I have this,” you said, raising your left hand so that she could see the engagement ring on it.

“Isn’t child marriage illegal?” she said.

“I’m not married yet. It’s an agreement between my clan and the Kamos; doubtless only conceived because any children that I bear will have the potential to utilize their Reverse Cursed Techniques, even though I myself cannot. It’s a way to strengthen the Kamo clan, which at the moment has been failing to live up to the strength of the Zenins and the Gojos. And an alliance with my family would be game-changing for them,” you explained, “So, see? The higher ups wanted to restore balance and calm the war between the Zenins and Gojos by introducing new power to the Kamos, who have always been more peaceful than their counterparts. Therefore, I am to marry Noritoshi.”

“It hardly feels fair. You should be able to marry and have children with whoever you want,” she said. You stepped into the car, sliding over so that she could sit beside you and leaning your head against the window.

“Wanting is a foreign concept to me; it is only duty and usefulness to my family that I think of. I am lucky in that Noritoshi is kind enough to indulge me in my desires, even allowing me to be a jujutsu sorcerer despite our families’ protests. Yet if he had said no…” you sighed.

“I’m going to kick their asses for you,” Tullia said, “Seriously. Who are they to treat you like your husband’s property? As if this is the — the Middle Ages or something! Ridiculous!”

“That’s very sweet of you to offer, but it’s quite alright. Noritoshi is good enough that I think I might fall in love with him, given time. It could be worse, and I’d hardly wish to ask you to risk yourself over my petty complaints. It’s all hypothetical, anyways; who would I fall in love with besides him?” you said.

“I don’t know. Toge?” she said. You laughed at the irony.

“I had a crush on him at one point,” you admitted, “Don’t tell anyone. But I think he has his eyes on someone else.”

“Ooh, really?” she said. “Who?”

“I’ll leave that for you to find out,” you said, “It’s only speculation on my part, after all.”

“Okay, back to the original topic. You could always fall in love with Yuta,” she suggested.

You weren’t sure why the name made you pause. Scared, shivering Yuta? Tullia thought you could love him? He who hid behind you at loud noises? The one slated for execution, with a curse tied to him like a manacle? That Yuta?

“That’s an idiotic proposal,” you said.

“Gosh, you don’t have to get so snippy. I was just throwing ideas out there. Marry Noritoshi, for all I care. Oh! But can I be one of your bridesmaids?” she said.

“If I’m allowed to choose, then sure,” you said.

“Wow, another choice taken away from you. Is anything in your life your own?” she said, voice innocent and genuine. She was not being mean, she was truly trying to understand something that was so normal to you as to be without explanation.

“My needles,” you said after a pause, “My friendship with Maki. Those are mine.”

“That’s good. It’s good, you know, to have things of your own,” she said, sounding dissatisfied even at that. But you sensed that the conversation was over, and you were happy to let it be. Her words had struck an uncomfortable chord in you, and you were left mulling it over.

Yuta. Who could ever love Yuta? He was like — like a deer or something, spooking at the slightest things, wide-eyed and gentle. The thought of loving him felt more like a storybook or something, a fiction where the princess fell in love with — with — what even was he?

You remembered the way he had held you, refusing to leave you behind and cradling you to his chest as he ran. And then you remembered the way he had stood behind the bench you sat on, almost like some kind of guardian — as if he would be doing any protecting, when you were leaning against the world’s strongest sorcerer to sleep. What was Yuta compared to your teacher? Yet something in the way his eyes had gleamed made you think that, in that specific moment, he would’ve even fought Satoru Gojo himself if it meant ensuring your safety.

You wished most of all to know him more, and then you pinched your leg before you could begin dissecting him in your mind. What would it do? This sudden fascination was only brought about because of an offhand comment Tullia had made in jest. And even if she was serious, why would you try to fall in love with any other man than Noritoshi? It would only lead to misery, so why should you try to walk down that road?

Curiosity was a powerful drug, a scent lure that you were compelled to follow. And Tullia, for whatever reason — in ignorance or perhaps wisdom; could she sense something that even you had not yet realized? — had set the trail, leaving you helpless. You would not let yourself rest until you had picked Yuta Okkotsu apart, piece by trembling piece, prodding at every single weak spot he possessed until he crumbled. And then you would put him back together with the precision of a doctor — or at least that’s what you might’ve done, had you a Reverse Cursed Technique. As it was, you’d just leave him in shards to be swept aside.

You would not be good for Yuta. He would not be good for you. It was a path lined in ink stains and blood, leading straight down to hell.

“Hey, check this out!” Tullia said, showing you her phone, “Did you know that the real saying is ‘curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back’ instead of whatever nonsense they teach us?”

“I didn’t,” you said. Her timing was uncanny, and you looked at your hands.

Maybe satisfaction could bring you back, too.

“What a lovely little bakery,” Tullia said.

“It’s a shame they’re having so many issues with curses,” you said, waving at Ijichi, who nodded at you rather seriously as he put up a veil. He had become something like your number one fan, kind of like a friendly, childless uncle — which was odd to say, because he was younger than Gojo, who could be described as nothing other than an elder brother.

“Agreed. Hopefully, we can get rid of the problem at the source and then they’ll be happy again,” Tullia said.

“Gojo might have to start ordering delivery more often, though,” you said.

“Why’s that?” she said.

“The evidence of his presence is enough to attract these curses. He’s too busy to deal with them, but it’s true that in his wake, lower-levelled beings thrive, trying to feed off of the lingering remains of his cursed signature. He’s too strong to leave any energy, of course, but just the prospect is enough to attract them,” you said.

“Oh, that’s really interesting. I think it’s so cool, how he’s in a class of his own,” she said.

“He really is. If there’s anyone resembling a god up there, I think Gojo’s got them beat,” you said, pointing at the sky. “Though he’d deny it to his grave. Despite him being, well, himself, I think he feels rather inferior at times; not that he’s unaware that he’s the strongest but rather that being the strongest isn’t enough. There’s always another level of strength to be attained, another person to save that he wasn’t able to.”

“You’re good at reading people. It’s a little uncanny,” Tullia said, side-eyeing you warily.

You smiled harmlessly. “My technique is called Dissection. Would you expect anything less?”

The bakery had been closed for the day, as it was supposedly the owner’s birthday — most likely the reason Gojo had sent you and Tullia today. This meant no one stopped you as you snuck inside, careful to not trip any alarms or get caught on any security cameras.

The storefront itself was cheery, with bright yellow-striped walls and a pink counter. It was easy to see why Gojo liked it so much; it was warm and welcoming. Despite the lack of desserts — they really were baked fresh every day, it seemed — a pleasant smell of vanilla and strawberry hung in the air.

“They’re most likely in the back,” you said.

“Makes sense. In the storerooms with the flour, if I had to guess,” she said. You gave her a dull look.

“You’re just sensing their cursed energy,” you said. She grinned sheepishly.

“Would you be mad if I said I am?” she said.

“I suppose it means your sensing skills are up to par, so probably not,” you said, going with her instinct and ducking into the storeroom, closing your eyes and trying to reach out, ignoring Tullia’s signature and searching for any foreign ones.

“Get anything?” she whispered. Your eyes flew open, and you groaned.

“I’m going to kill Gojo,” you hissed.

“Why?” she said.

“He always sticks me with the hardest missions!” you said, stomping your foot childishly, “There’s a Grade 2 curse lurking around here somewhere.”

“That’s not too bad, is it?” she said.

“It’s bad enough,” you said with a sigh.

“Great. What’s our plan?” she said.

“We need to figure out what form it’s taken and whether it has any tricks to it or whether it’s just a typical mindless creepy-crawly,” you said.

“Can curses be, like, giant spiders?” she said.

“I don’t see why not. Why do you ask?” you said. She pointed at the wall above you; you looked up and screamed when you saw an enormous, fuzzy, vaguely-arachnid creature leering down at you. Darting forwards, you whipped out a needle and threw it at the curse, not even bothering to illuminate a weak spot. Thankfully, it seemed your guess was lucky enough, and the curse burst into nothingness.

“That wasn’t the Grade 2,” she said.

“That would be too easy,” you said, shuddering in revulsion at the memory of the spider-like thing.

“It was disgusting, though,” she said. Before you could respond, your phone rang. You winced and picked up, grimacing apologetically at Tullia.

“Hello?” you said.

“Y/N? Where…are you right now?”

“Noritoshi!” you yelped, looking around wildly. Tullia waved and mouthed ‘tell him I said hi.’ You shook your head. “I’m, um, at a bakery. With my friend from school. Her name’s Tullia; she’s Kaito’s cousin. You remember Kaito?”

“He’s the fucking nutjob that just became a Grade 1 sorcerer, of course I know him.”

“Yeah, well, that’s a reasonable description of him, but his cousin’s a lot nicer, which is why I’m hanging out with her. Why are you calling? I’m in the middle of something,” you said.

“You’re just at a bakery, it’s not like you can’t step away for a second.”

Now that you had established the lie, you could not admit that you were actually on a mission, so you only laughed, a high-pitched, nervous laugh.

“You’re so right! What is it, dear, what is so important that you’re making me risk missing out on my favorite flavor of cake?” you said, unable to stop sarcasm from creeping into your voice.

“Have you been spending time with Maki Zenin recently?”

“Is there a problem with that?” you said, quick to jump to her defense.

“No, it’s only that she’s probably the only person I know of who could make even you sarcastic.”

“I’ll be sure to let her know,” you said.

“Don’t be upset. I’ll order you an entire wedding’s worth of cake if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“No need. Toge and Panda are going through a bit of a baking phase at the moment,” you said.

“So then why are you at a bakery?”

Tullia squealed, dancing backwards as an oversized rat followed by several normal-sized rats lunged out at her. It came up to her knee and was a hideous purple color, which meant it was probably the Grade 2 curse; the smaller ones were lesser curses relying on the large one so heavily that it was almost as if they were working on a group project with it.

“Um, it’s Tullia’s birthday!” you said.

“Really? Tell her I said happy birthday.”

“Tullia! Noritoshi says happy birthday!” you said, tossing a needle at the larger rat and scowling when it bounced off.

“Do something!” she said. “And it’s not my birthday!”

“I’m trying! You do something!” you said.

“I don’t know how to!” she said.

“Is everything alright with you two? Do you need help with something?”

“Yes!” you said, “Yes. I do, in fact, need help. My beloved Noritoshi. My sweet fiancé. My —”

“What is it?”

“Wow, you don’t want to hear my many terms of endearment? I was only just getting started, too,” you said with a huff.

“Y/N!” Tullia said, voice strangled, “Hello? I’m about to get eaten by a giant rat!”

“Right!” you said. “So, hypothetically, Noritoshi, say Tullia and I were actually on a mission for Gojo, and now there’s a giant rat-curse that wants to eat us. If you were us, what would you do? This is, of course, all super theory-based, so don’t worry or anything!”

“Can you please send me your location? I’ll come help you.”

“No way!” Tullia shouted. “We’re strong, independent women! We don’t need men — get off! Ew!”

She kicked one of the smaller rats that had tried to climb up her leg. It splattered into a thousand pieces, some splashing onto her face, which was peculiarly pale as she wiped them away.

“W-what she said! I just need advice, not someone to do everything for me,” you said. Actually, you kind of wished you could beg Noritoshi to come bail you out, but it seemed Tullia had other plans.

“Fine. If this scenario were really happening, which of course it’s not, I’d probably try to split the smaller curses up from the larger one — assuming that’s the formation they’ve assumed.”

“No way, it is! Are you an oracle?” you said.

“No, it’s a relatively common tactic utilized by weaker curses. You learn to recognize these patterns. Anyways, find some way to draw the small ones away from the bigger one; it’ll be easier because there’s two of you. It should be simple enough to exorcise them from that point.”

“Alright,” you said, “Talk to you later, bye!”

“Wait —”

You hung up before he could try to lecture you; though he was only a year older than you, sometimes the difference felt like some uncrossable chasm. Tucking away your phone, you sized up the room, trying to figure out a strategy.

“Tullia!” you said. “I have an idea!”

“Finally!” she said, punching another rat and wiping her bloody knuckles off on her uniform tights.

“Okay, your cursed energy is a little, how do I say it…brighter? It’s brighter than mine, yeah,” you said.

“Wow, maybe if I start spinning, they’ll think I’m a disco ball and we can have a dance party,” she said dryly.

“Ha, ha, very funny. Really, though, that’s the only way I can describe it. It’s why the little rats are more attracted to you; they’re not intelligent enough to realize the flash has no substance. Notice the bigger rat hasn’t tried anything yet? He has a more important target in mind — me. Between the two of us, my base reserves of energy are actually higher, so if we go in opposite directions, we might be able to get them separated,” you said.

“You’re going to leave me with all of these tiny things?” she whined.

“I’ll come help you as soon as I’m done with that one,” you said, “On my count. Three, two…one!”

You both took off, Tullia leaping to swing onto the shelves with the grace of a dancer. The smaller rats scrambled to follow her, chattering amongst themselves, crying out stories about breaking into grain supplies and hungering for her blood.

You sprinted through the storerooms, taking out needles and throwing them at bags of flour to obscure your path. They exploded in clouds of puffy white, coating your eyelashes and hair and skin with soft powder, but it was a small downside when compared to the payoff — the large rat could no longer use its eyes in order to track you, relying only on its cursed signature detection.

You had practiced distinguishing cursed signatures so exhaustively after that disastrous mission with Yuta that it didn’t matter that you were essentially blind to anything behind you; it was as if the energy swirling around the rat was like a homing beacon, alerting you to its presence even when the only thing you could see was white.

“Gotcha,” you said with a smirk as the rat attempted to leap at you, “Dissection!”

By launching itself into the air, it had exposed the expanse of its underbelly, which now glowed green under the influence of your cursed technique — the only spot on its entire form to do so, which explained why your earlier needles had bounced off of it as if they were nothing. Taking out three needles at one time, you threw all of them and let out a breath of relief when they all struck true, slamming the rat back into the wall, where it lay helplessly. You nudged it with your foot disdainfully, gagging as its flesh jiggled and then taking out the last of your needles, sticking each of them into its stomach until it resembled a pincushion. It dissolved into a sea of a black tar-like substance, which you nimbly jumped over before it could stain your shoes.

Dusting yourself off, you made it back to the main storeroom, feeling rather virtuous and skilled because of your performance against the Grade 2 curse. Now, if only Tullia would be finished, you could hurry up and get home, and then you could shower — at the moment, you looked rather like a snowman.

“You’re back!” Tullia said. It was not the scene you had hoped to see; she was clinging to a support beam for one of the shelves while the smaller rats tried to make a tower so that they could reach her. You were impressed at the smaller curses’ innovativeness, but left the fond feelings for another time. At the moment, you needed to worry about getting Tullia out of the situation she had somehow gotten entangled in.

“You’re…stuck,” you said.

“No shit, Sherlock,” she said. “What now?”

“I could just leave you there,” you mused.

“Why would you do that?” she said.

“Because. You’re a little bit rude sometimes, you know that?” you said.

“I promise I will never be rude again! I’ll wash your feet with my hair if you save me right now!” she said.

“Big words,” you said, “Fine. But please leave my feet alone.”

“Gladly. I hate feet; they disgust me. I was just trying to show how deeply grateful I will be to you,” she said.

“Uh, don’t get too grateful yet,” you said, “I…may have used all of my needles on the Grade 2 curse earlier?”

“What?” she screeched.

“In my defense, I thought you’d be able to take care of these things!” you said.

“I would’ve, but there’s so many! Cursed energy doesn’t grow on trees, and I’m pretty much at my limit! I already got rid of a ton, but they just kept coming,” she said.

“I’m of no help. I can’t fight; I’m not Maki,” you said in despair, “I’m not strong. You’re going to get eaten by a tower of tiny rats, all because I’m too weak for hand-to-hand combat.”

“You’re so comforting,” she said.

“What happened to not being rude anymore?” you said.

“I don’t see you saving me, so I’ll be as rude as I want!” she snapped.

“You’re the strong, independent woman here,” you muttered, “Noritoshi would’ve gotten us out of here by now. You should’ve let him come.”

“Oh, forgive me! I just thought you’d want to do things for yourself for once!” she said. Your eyes widened at this.

“What?” you said softly.

“Your entire life is controlled by someone or another, or at least that’s how it sounds! The higher ups. Your family. Your future husband. You want to fight, but you can’t without permission. You want to have your own life, but you can’t because of politics. You want to be your own person, but you keep letting yourself be forced into molds other people provide you with! Will you call for someone to save you every time things get a little tough? In truth, if I were you, I’d rather die than beg Noritoshi for help!” she said.

“I don’t understand,” you said, “Why?”

“You’re not the L/N girl. You’re not a healer, you’re not your father’s daughter nor the Kamo clan’s solution! You’re Y/N. You’re my friend! Don’t ask yourself what Noritoshi would do. What would Y/N do to get us out of here?” she said.

Her words felt like a slap to the face. What did you think you both should do? How were you going to get the two of you out of the bakery?

Tullia believed in you. Maki believed in you. Toge and Panda believed in you. Gojo believed in you — or at the least, he kept putting you into situations that warranted extreme faith on his part. Yuta believed in you.

“Pesticide,” you said, eyeing the bottle of insect-killer on the ground near the door, “That’s it!”

Hefting the bottle, which was surprisingly heavy, you allowed a smile to flit across your features. She had been right in that much, at least; for so long, you had let your every movement be dictated by someone. But you had come to study with Gojo for a reason. You had decided to become a jujutsu sorcerer for a reason. And that reason was freedom; you wanted to be just Y/N. You wanted to answer the call in your blood, the call that sang whenever you fought.

“Huh? These aren’t actual rats, you can’t spray them with chemicals and hope they go away,” she said.

“But I can spray you,” you said.

“You…are a strange girl,” Tullia said.

“Catch!” you said, swinging the bottle back and then tossing it towards Tullia, who stretched a hand out and barely managed to snatch it out of the air. “It’s poison! Drink it!”

“Poison — oh. Oh! Oh! You’re a genius, Y/N, that’s what you are!” she said in delight, using her legs to hold herself up on the column and unscrewing the cap of the bottle, pouring the entire thing down her throat. Much of it missed her mouth, but enough must’ve made it down that she cast aside the empty bottle with vigor.

“Feeling better?” you said.

“Much. I love the taste of caramel,” she said, licking her lips and then staring down at the rats.

“Who knew that pesticide tastes like caramel?” you said, more to yourself than anything.

Her levels of energy boosted from the pesticide she had just ingested, she made quick work of the rats, which did not put up much of a fight. Landing lightly on her feet beside you, she beamed.

“Thanks, Y/N. I couldn’t have done it without you,” she said.

“Nah,” you said, elbowing her in the side affectionately, “Thank you.”

[cassthecringe]

UM so i think about an au where jotaro is the one to die in sdc instead of anyone else and i throw up from grief but anyway i then go on to think about how like future parts would get impacted by this and like i dont think i’ve seen much discussion of that so let me . yeah. 

um so i think it follows the theme of like the crusaders basically making it up to jotaro in retrospect. and like . cleaning it up for him not cause theyre blood but because they were family nonetheless. so like

diu is mostly the same but instead of jotaro there it’s kakyoin and joseph. kakyoin wildly switches from being super overbearing to kinda like mean and hostile to josuke and josuke does not get it until kakyoin one day admits he can’t look at him without seeing jotaro and josuke is like. well that sucks and all but i’m not jotaro. i’m josuke. do i not get the opportunity to exist to you just because of another joestar. and kakyoin is like hmm. and he gets better and treats josuke better and theyre good buddies by the end

um in part 5 like. avdol is there the whole time. iggy is the one who fucks around with gio like koichi did in the first ep tho just btw. but like avdol is there the whole time. he’s very blunt about the fact he’s here to watch gio and gio has very rustled feathers but avdol isn’t trying to stop him from anything and he did help with the black sabbath fight so whatever. at the halfway point we meet polnareff rather than waiting on the finale and it convinces everyone including fugo to betray the boss cause like the requiem arrow. while theyre on this week from hell btw pol andf avdol drop hints about his dad/jotaro’s death. when gio almost dies cause of the requiem arrow he’s engulfed by both pol and avdol and they both cry that they can’t lose another kid like that again and while gio could kinda piece some stuff together at that point, this kind of confirmation -- that even tho his dad is the one who took their previous charge from them, they still see him as a kid worth caring about to the extent they cared about jotaro -- makes him cry for the first time in uh his life. i guess. abbacchio doesnt die btw but bruno and nara might still. we’ll see.

anyway and then part six instead of jolyne caus ejotaro. is dead. is kakyoin infiltrating the prison pucci is working at and them just going nuts at each other. when it’s clear neither can get the upperhand in a fight they fall into a very uneasy game of just constantly circling each other. with this comes familiarity though and they were friends once back when kakyoin was fleshbuded. they begin to talk. kakyoin explains what happened to him and pucci is like ah. and kakyoin is like “so see dio is fucked up and he hurt you too” and pucci is like noooope not dealing with that. but he doesnt have the opportunity to kickstart the bone bullshit with kakyoin watching him like a hawk and he can’t deny that he has doubts. anyway with kakyoin still there pucci begins to fall in on himself more and more until he just breaks down crying cause he realizes that while dio was his friend he was his abuser first. kakyoin comforts him. together they burn the bone and forever end any hope of dio’s dream coming to fruition. and at last letting jotaro rest in peace. um yeah idk