#so was on the fence about making it even though i liked the painting idea itself and it was also going to be sorta intricate

[rubenesque-as-fuck]

Creativity demons please give me the energy to start a new painting tomorrow

[bunny-lily]

Tether Me - Chapter 1

Pairing(s): Geto/Gojo/Reader

Summary: “Jesus!” You shrieked and jumped with all the elegance of a newborn fawn, spinning on your heel to find a head of blindingly white hair and pearly canines equally as eye-burning greeting you through a wide grin. Though you couldn’t see the man's eyes behind those curiously round shades of his, you could picture how his cheeks crinkled his hidden hues at the corners.

If any of the Greek or Roman gods were real, he’d outshine every one of them without breaking a sweat. 

“Not quite,” the unfairly gorgeous stranger replied with a snicker from where he leaned against the fence, “but I’m flattered.” CW: No y/n | polyamory | slow burn | slice of life | alt au - no curses | fluff | light angst | eventual smut | forgive me, there's internal monologues | I like using big words... | Gojo & Geto are whipped for you | emotionally constipated reader | (most of the tags have been condensed, you can find the full list on my ao3 here)

AN: no particular additional warnings for this chapter. I'll add new warnings for any chapters that might require them (for example, nsfw)

Ch: Prologue | Ch: 1 | Ch: 2 | Ch: 3 | Ch: 4 | Ch: 5 - 1 | Ch: 5 - 2

WC: 15.3k

Seeing your new…home in the unforgiving glare of daytime made you realize that the realtor spent more time photoshopping the box of danger to make it appear appealing than actually selling it. Gave it to the first poor buyer that bit the bait and dashed off.

Said poor buyer was you. Apparently.

A rickety bamboo fence, chipped and scratched by god knows what, wrapped loosely around your property, the pathetic poles clinging to life by threads about as strong as spider silk. Quite the sad barrier. Honestly, you had no idea how it managed to remain upright this long at all. 

The description on the site you found it on was very, very vague with anything regarding the building. Even with your prodding, the most you generally got was “well, nobody died in it, and it’s still standing.”

Good enough for you, clearly, considering you slapped the Sold! sign on the damn listing yourself maybe 30 minutes and a glass of wine (or three) after finding the soggy, depressing shack.

Granny was right. This thing was a damn mess. It should have been condemned ages ago.

You couldn’t decide if it was bigger or smaller than you expected. Somewhat disproportionate was the best way you could put it. The terrain surrounding it was much more expansive than the photos showed, the boundaries only sort of marked out by the aforementioned sad barrier. It was considerably isolated, which you weren’t really complaining about, but you noted way too late that taking care of all that overgrown grass was going to be a nightmare on your back. Arms, too. Every part of your body, honestly.

The building itself had certainly seen better days, such as the day it was built, and perhaps the day after, if you were being generous. The agent was very shifty about exact details, but in his defense, this place was basically in the Bumfuck Middle of Nowhere, Japan, in likely one of the smallest countryside villages there was in the whole country.

You were also substantially intoxicated and ready to put down your life savings on anything.

Thankfully, you didn’t have to go that far, but you truly underestimated the scope of this ‘project’. The entire plot needed a fresh splash of paint at minimum. Ideally, you needed to shear the lawn of all those super pretty weeds that you were very tempted to just leave as is because they were so pretty, mhm, would be an absolute shame to get rid of them.

You’d need to clear out the stone path leading from the fence gate to your front door that you quite literally stumbled over last night. Or just toss the stones altogether, because fuck those things and whoever put them there.

The outer walls needed a good scrubbing, and another, and one more for good measure. Quite a few shingles on the roof showed signs of being ready to split your skull open with only a wayward breeze needed to push them off the edge. The hinges creaked horribly on every part of the building, enough so that you were certain the entire village would’ve been awoken by you tripping over yourself to get into the house had you not been a decent 10 or so minute walk from the closest cottage.

And all of this was just what was outside. 

That fence, ugly little shit that it was, was either going to become your worst nightmare, or a begrudging friend. 

You noted with mild interest that your house resembled western abodes more than Japanese ones.

Maybe if you kept the place rundown, people wouldn’t think to stop by your place unannounced. Ah, what a delight that would be. If you were lucky, nobody knew the property had been sold yet. If you were extra lucky, you could get your shopping done (plus whatever other errands you couldn’t do from home) by keeping your head down, and none would be the wiser to your existence.

Aside from Granny, of course. Kinda hard to hide from that woman now that she’d given you food off her own back. You needed to do something in return, but you set that on the back burner for now.

The interior required basically everything to be fixed up, that was non-negotiable. You refused to sleep on crusty wood floors and old tatami that had long since been glued to the surface beneath with gods know what. At the very least, you needed to somehow clean the floor. Preferably, mend the walls, plug any holes, get the pipes functioning if they weren’t already, and a whole other fuckin’ list of soul crushing deeds that needed completion.

Furniture, while questionably not a necessity for survival, was definitely a need for you. If only so you had something to sleep on other than the basically flat, nylon bag laid out in the corner of the room you gracelessly snored within.

But how?

You planted your hands on your hips and exhaled through your nose. “I wonder if Amazon ships to this place…”

A pipe dream, certainly; but, gods, would it make your life so much easier.

You could try to build your own furniture, but you trusted running with scissors more than you trusted your own potential handiwork. Which meant repairing the house itself on your own was likely a very bad idea.

“Ah, fuck,” you hissed as you realized the other shit you’d need to do aside from creating an actual proper space to live. “I’ll have to learn how to sew and garden and fucking carpent and everything…”

You groaned as you pictured every task that awaited you, and subsequently buried your face in your hands. Maybe you should have just torn the whole fucking thing down, bought a plastic shed from the nearest city, dragged it over, set it up, and called it home sweet home. You didn’t need that much space anyway, right?

“No, can’t regret this now, too late to regret this, you chose this,” your voice was muffled and grit out through clenched teeth. “Made your bed, now sleep in it, idiot.”

“Yeah, kinda dumb choice, if you ask me.”

An unexpected voice originated from behind you, startling the living daylights out of you and shooting your heart straight out of your body. 

“Jesus!” You shrieked and jumped with all the elegance of a newborn fawn, spinning on your heel to find a head of blindingly white hair and pearly canines equally as eye-burning greeting you via a wide grin. Though you couldn’t see the man's eyes behind those curiously round shades of his, you could picture how his cheeks crinkled his hidden hues at the corners.

If any of the Greek or Roman gods were real, he’d outshine every one of them without breaking a sweat. 

The warming late-spring wind grazed through the fluffy locks of his hair like the delicate touch of a lover’s hands, weaving through the fine strands and carrying his scent to you.

Mixed with the heat of the approaching humid season, you caught faint hints of sweetness, with an underlying minty tone and something you couldn't name. He was too far away for you to pinpoint the exact fragrance, but you had no intention of just skipping right over and shoving your nose against the junction of his neck to get a better whiff.

Or maybe his chest? The way he was slouching made it difficult to gauge his height, but you had a feeling he was a great deal taller than you, and the stout slope you stood on would do you virtually no favors.

The shiver that went up your spine at the thought was promptly ignored.

“Not quite,” the unfairly gorgeous stranger replied with a snicker from where he leaned against the fence, arms slotted between the bamboo sticks. How it held him up without crumbling into dust was a miracle in itself. “But I’m flattered.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears as you placed your hand against your chest, trying to will the wretched thing to calm down. Handling adrenaline was not your forte, much less from a scare like this. With your eyes narrowed, and only partially because of the accursed brilliance that was coming summer, you glared at the man. He was far too relaxed and cocky for your liking, still sporting that goofy grin that had you feeling things you didn’t want to address now.

Or ever.

“Who are you?” You queried.

“I should be asking you that, pretty girl.”

Your nose wrinkled incredulously. “Pretty girl?”

He chose to overlook your objection, instead nodding towards your house. “Never thought I’d get to witness this shithole get bought by anyone, let alone someone like you. Thought it’d get torn down sooner than have a hundred yen tossed towards it.”

Your eyes rolled. Hard. He wasn’t wrong, it was a shithole, but now it was your shithole. The less reminders about its miserable state of existence you had, the better. “Gee, thanks.”

“No problem.”

Completely against your will, you snorted. He was going to be a wonderful source of entertainment, or he was going to be a thorn in your side, just like the sickly sticks under his arms. The jury was still out on it.

You stared at one another for a few seconds that dragged on too long before you raised a brow. “Weeeell…?” You drew out the word.

His head cocked to the side. “Well?”

“Your name. You never told me who you are.” You knew it was polite to introduce yourself first, but fuck that, he scared the hell out of you. The responsibility was on him.

“Oh, right,” he straightened up, then bent forward with one hand to his chest and the other outstretched sideways in an extravagant bow. “Gojo Satoru, the very one and only. What about you, sweetheart?”

Pet names aside, there was a debate in your mind, an argument between whether you should give the admittedly attractive stranger your real name, or create one on the spot. You had done the latter in your later months of running all over your home country like a chicken without a head under the stupid belief that it'd further separate you from the anxieties clinging to your shins. 

You were paranoid. That was easy enough to decipher.

Your conscience had spawned this nerve wracking idea that those you ghosted – from scorned lovers who scarcely got further than kissing you, to the jobs and employers you abandoned suddenly – were after you. 

It left you constantly scanning your 6 from over your shoulder with the fear that they’d come chasing you down, eager to dig their claws into your paper-kite flesh and permanently force you down. You could visualize them tearing through your wings, winding layers of rope around your throat and knotting the dangling strings so tightly that not even the sharpest blade could break through the binds, much less let you breathe. So, you frequently lied about your identity as much as you could.

You inhaled slowly through your teeth, not enough to whistle, but enough to ground you. You were on the complete other side of the world, far away from those who would care to snarl and bare their fangs at your heels as they ran faster than you could – if there were any who desired to at all. You were somewhere new, somewhere unfamiliar, a place where nobody knew you, or could possibly know you by any means.

You told not a soul about where you’d gone. You never did. Like ash in the wind, you disappeared faster than anyone could blink, any memory of smoldering embers long forgotten.

Maybe…maybe you were safe to at least slip forth some truth about yourself.

Like most things you did nowadays, you told him your real name on a whim, and hoped it wouldn’t come back to bite you in the ass.

He hummed as he repeated it to you, as if testing it on his tongue, dipping in for a small taste. Then, that stunning grin returned, and your heart fluttered behind your ribs.

You stubbornly stamped your heel down onto it. You didn’t know why it decided to start acting up, but you were not going to entertain it.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl,” he cooed. “What brought you here of all places? So rich you’re bored? Fell for a scam? One of those girly things?”

You scoffed.

“Or maybe you’re running from something.”

The blood in your veins froze over in an instant, your body going rigid as you stared at him. He…he couldn’t have known, right? The way he stated it, rather than asked – like he knew – had you struggling to swallow, to so much as twitch your fingers. There was no way. You– you were nobody, a blank slate, an outsider–

His head cocked to the side playfully, and the spell he had cast on you withered away as quickly as it came.

Finally able to breathe again, you vented out the air you unknowingly held and turned your face slightly away, hoping he didn’t catch your slip-up. “One of those girly things,” you settled, to which he nodded eagerly, as if you just confirmed the existence of a theory of his that ‘girly things’ were real.

Not that he was wholly wrong, technically, as you did have ‘one of those girly things’ urges from time to time. The desire to cut or dye your hair, pick up a new name, rearrange your room, or hop on a plane to the furthest fucking location you could imagine.

“Why’d you choose this…thing then?” Gojo jerked his chin towards the shabby hut.

“It was cheap,” you answered simply. 

He bobbed his head in acknowledgement. “Where are you staying?”

Your eyelashes fluttered as you blinked at him, your brow knitting. “...Here?”

“...Here.”

“Here.”

There was a brief pause, then he burst into laughter, his arms hugging his stomach. “Oh, god,” he wheezed. Personally, you couldn’t find what was so funny about the situation. “You serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

His finger slipped under the right lens of his glasses, presumably to wipe a tear away as he worked on calming himself down. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Fire flared in your veins as opposed to ice this time. “Hey!”

“I mean, seriously, who in their right mind would stay inside that thing?”

Your lip curled over your teeth in a snarl. “Oi–”

He bulldozed right along, completely ignoring you. “There’s gotta be, like, ghosts in there. Or a shit ton of spiders. Lots of spiders, actually.”

That got your attention. A shudder shot up your back and you squealed in fright, shaking off your hands to rid yourself of the phantom feeling of creepy crawlies on your skin. “Spiders?”

The milky-headed male nodded staidly. “Tons. And, y’know, the other obvious health hazards. I bet there’s asbestos in those walls.”

You opened your mouth to argue that your house had only been abandoned for 20 years, and that asbestos had been cut out of usage some 40 odd years ago, until you remembered that 1) asbestos didn’t immediately go out of use when the dangers were revealed, and 2) you house was abandoned 20 years ago, not built 20 years ago. Who knows how old it actually was? 

Given its appearance…

He must’ve seen the panic on your face, because he gave you a piercing smile, an expression you very swiftly understood was one of scheming. “You should come stay with me.”

The world halted around you for the seconds it took your mind to process what he said. “...Hah?”

“I said, you should come stay with me,” Satoru shrugged nonchalantly. “I have spare guest rooms.”

“I– you– stay with– what?” 

The grimace he gave your house could only be described as ‘execrating’. “I mean, come on, you’re not really thinking of staying there, are you? You’ll be sending yourself to an early grave like that, you’re too cute to die so soon. Just come stay at my place.”

Was he a murderer?

Your brain finally caught up with a click and you scowled. “Oh, yeah, that’s super safe,” you responded sardonically. “New girl in a new town full of total strangers with who-knows-what motives, lemme just go stay with the first guy that invites me to his home.”

“Come onnnn, you can trust me,” he whined, pouting.

“I literally just met you.”

The ease with which he gave up gave you whiplash, having expected him to keep pushing. “Suit yourself,” he shrugged. “Hey, did you know that your backdoor doesn’t have a lock?”

You paled.

Definitely something a murderer would say.

Your head whipped to gawp at your dwelling with wide eyes, a full on war raging through your head now.

On one hand, yes, he was a complete and total stranger. A hot one, but still an unknown entity who could just be buttering you up. Maybe the reason the house had been abandoned for so long was because anytime a new owner came in, they got snatched up by the handsome boy who invited them just like he invited you, never to be seen again.

He could have been lying about the lock – though it honestly didn’t matter, someone could probably just break through a wall if they pushed hard enough on it.

On the other hand, if he was telling the truth (how did he know that? Why?), he was the only person you knew even a little in this itty bitty isolated village (Granny doesn’t count). Anyone could go through that door at night and there you would be, wrapped up in your shitty, thin sleeping bag, prime kidnapping material. You basically did all the hard work by tying your own limbs right up yourself, easiest catch of the century.

At the very least, you knew Gojo’s name and face. Granted, the first item there was debatable, but he didn’t seem like the type to lie about his name – boast about it, more like. You’d be already acquainted with your would-be assailant, so it’d be nice to know the face of your kidnapper-slash-torturer-slash-killer, if only so you could punch a picture of it over and over in your afterlife, wherever death may take you.

You shifted your gaze to him and crossed an apprehensive arm over your chest, propping your elbow up on it while you pinched your chin in consideration.

There he was, the sly rat, wearing that dumb (cute) (no) grin of his as always, patiently awaiting your answer as if he already knew it. Nothing about him seemed inherently dangerous on the surface, but don’t they say serial killers are charming and charismatic people? He was a bit energetic for a murderer, though.

You weighed your options carefully. You could spend another horrid night in your house with the knowledge that there were likely insects everywhere, and possibly even asbestos in the walls, and who knows what else. You’d have to brush your teeth by using your water tumbler again, and…oh, fuck, you hadn’t even thought about the bathroom yet. How were you going to shower? Wash your face? Do your business? 

Then there was your poor excuse of a bed, more plastic than anything even remotely comfy. Same with the pillow, you might as well have been sleeping on the bare ass floor. Your neck ached at the thought. Then there was your food issue, your clothes, your devices…

You sighed.

“What’s the catch?” You questioned reluctantly.

He merely raised his hands in a shrug. “No catch.”

That was way too easy, but the prospect of an actual bed and a tidy (hopefully) homestead was too good to pass up, serial killer owner be damned.

Future you was just getting more and more tasks thrown at her, such as your new objective being to find an inn to live in while you figured out your home issues. And getting a job to afford said inn. But that was for way later, when you weren’t losing your goddamned mind.

“...Fine,” you surrendered. Like a pussy. Weak.

“Yippee!” Satoru cheered, somehow smiling wider. “Good girl, knew ya had a brain somewhere up there.”

Your stomach flip-flopped at the simultaneous praise and insult, confusing your head with emotions (and hormones) that you did not want to unpack. Cheeks reddening rapidly, you hissed at him through a tight jaw, shooing away the kindling something that pooled in your tummy. “You–”

“C’mon,” he interrupted you before you could even start, already turning to leave as he waved his hand over his shoulder, “I’ll show ya the way. Ain’t far from here.”

Flustered, you stuttered indignantly, watching him walk away. You shook your head in defeat and jogged to catch up to him, needing to speed walk to match his ridiculously long strides. “Oi, slow down! You’re too damn tall!”

“You’re just short,” he argued, his hands interlocking as they rested against the back of his head. “Pipsqueak.”

You gasped in offense as if you weren’t at tiddy-sucking height. “I am not a pipsqueak!”

“You totally are,” he purred, treating you like you were some sort of adorable pet. “I bet I could pick you up and throw you if I wanted.”

An unwitting laugh bubbled out of you, and for some reason, you decided to play this frivolous game of his. “I’d like to see you try.”

You immediately regretted it as he reached out for you with a shit-eating expression of absolute delight, making you yelp and race off ahead of him, screeching as he chased right after you.

“Wait, no, don’t!” Your voice rang clear, fright mixed with childlike thrill spreading to your limbs as you scurried down the open road. “I was kidding!”

“Get back here!”

The wind blew past your ears, tangled into your hair, followed the curves of your body as you darted about alongside it. You let it guide you, toy with the fabric of your shirt, cup your face with cool hands. You breathed deeply, and you flew, untethered and free and so overwhelmed.

Somewhere above, beyond the boundless and endless cerulean, a star flickered.

You screamed when you felt his hands pinch your waist, catching Satoru’s devilish gleam as he passed you, and suddenly, you were the one chasing him. He cackled as you tried to catch up to him, taunting you all the way. 

Curse his long legs. 

You wondered how he managed to keep talking so cleanly and easily while you were struggling to maintain your breath and gait.

All those years of metaphorical running, sadly, did not translate into actual, physical running. Air stung your throat, and you only faintly recognized that you were running after him through the village, more focused on keeping that head of ivory tresses in sight.

Yet, somehow, contrary to how concentrated you were on that task, he managed to slip from your view when he turned a sharp corner and seemingly passed through an invisible barrier of some kind. He had to, because when you turned that same corner just seconds later, he was nowhere to be found.

Slowing your sprint into a trot, then stopping altogether, you bowed over and planted one hand on your knee while the other clutched your side.

“Oh, god,” you groaned, your body aching in several places, both internal and external. “I almost regret skipping gym in school.”

Peeking up through your hair to check around, every part of the street you were on seemed innocuous, normal, without any obvious hiding spots Satoru might have jumped into. 

The vertically dominant fucker.

Cautiously, you marched forward, breathing heavily as you took slow steps. The game of cat and mouse had turned into hide-and-seek, and the sucker chose not to warn you. Granted, you would have done the exact same thing, but it was within your right to bitch about it, you were at several disadvantages.

The first alley was clear of anything, even objects. Nothing more than a small gap between two buildings, you doubted he would’ve managed to squeeze in there given how giant he was. Plus, where would he have gone even if he did wiggle into it? 

The next alley was the same story. There was more space, but very little within said space, only a couple crates that were too small to hide him. Again, giant.

Everything, you belatedly realized, was completely uncharted territory to you. You should have listened to Granny and explored the village first. But, if you had, maybe you wouldn’t have a real bed to sleep in tonight. Presumably. You were putting too much faith into Gojo being genuine about the bed – and not being a serial killer – otherwise you were sleeping outside.

“Bastard.” The pain in your hip subsided and you righted yourself, inspecting every direction for any indication of white hair. It would be significantly difficult to hide that feature in an area like this, where pretty much everything had a neutral-dark colored theme, and most people had black or brunette hair.

You wondered why he was towheaded. A question for another day.

He was a magician, or trickster, you ruled, rather than acknowledging the fact that he knew this town far better than you did and likely would for a while to come. 

Grumbles passed through your lips as you stood akimbo, squinting at everything skeptically. “Where the hell–”

“Boo!”

You swear your soul ascended. You could picture the trail it left behind as it rose into the heavens, pulling with it a choked croak of terror from you. The sound could hardly be considered a shout, you resembled a frog more than you did a goat in the screaming department.

Demented cackling erupted behind you as you leapt forward and clutched your chest, swinging around to glower at the boy in utter disbelief. Twice now he had done this. Twice! Beside yourself, you rushed over towards him and smacked his arm repeatedly, which only fueled his laughter. “Dick!”

“Fuck!” Satoru heaved, reaching his whistle register. “Priceless! Oh, my god, you should have seen your face.”

“I’m gonna kill you!” The threat was far less menacing than you wanted when your own voice was as squeaky as his. 

By the time he calmed down, you were both panting – you out of chagrin (and for the sake of your poor heart), and him to get precious oxygen back to his smooth brain. 

“I’m serious about that, by the way,” you pouted at him. “I’m gonna kill you for scaring me. Again.”

He beamed at you and reached to pat your head, but was intercepted by your hand, only to dodge around it and manage to get a few head pats in anyway. “Sure you will, sweets.”

You growled and stomped a few steps away, stopped, then whirled back around when you remembered you had no idea where you were going. He simply crossed his arms over his chest and scrutinized you with that stupid, supercilious visage.

“Go on,” he encouraged eagerly. “Ask.”

The inside of your cheek was going to be sore from how much you were chewing it. You were at an impasse; let him win, or try to find his place on your own. With no idea what it looked like. Or what direction to even go.

You imagined you’d have better luck wearing a blindfold if you tried the latter option. Either way, he was going to win, you could acknowledge that. Conceding and requesting his continued guidance meant handing over his victory on a silver platter, or he’d get some decent entertainment out of watching you try to figure out where the hell he lived.

Gods, you were regretting moving here already.

“Show me how to get to your house,” you mumbled.

The tall freak fake-cooed at you. “Aww, come on, you can do better than that.”

If glouting could kill, you would be slow-roasting him over a grill. In the meekest voice you could manage, you muttered, “please.”

“Hmmm?” He canted closer towards you. “Didn’t quite catch that.”

You could feel your sanity draining like sand in an hourglass. Just to get it over with, you spoke properly. “Please show me how to get to your house.”

The jubilant grin he gave you had you reconsidering that blindfold idea you had. “Better! Good girl, come along, now.”

Oh, your insides could just melt.

No, you argued with yourself as you trailed behind him, reluctantly obedient. You are not getting horny over that, you sad sack of potatoes. You’re just pent up. A pretty boy calls you a good girl and you’re a sobbing mess under your pants.

Pathetic.

He whistled a sharp tune as he lazily led you, weaving around the architecture in such a way that you knew you never would have found the damn place on your own – or find your way back, for that matter. He was doing this on purpose to get you confused just to fuck with you, you knew it. 

You were placing a lot of stock in him not being a murderer.

“Keep up, shortie,” he waved his fingers over his shoulder. “We’re almost there.”

Taking a (albeit mild) hike up a road traveling up the mountainside was not something you expected nor planned for. Now you were lamenting skipping gym. Not that participating more in exercise over a decade ago would help you currently, but at least you’d be able to believe you were stronger than this.

Satoru watched you with no small amount of amusement as you finally caught up to his still figure, lips curved. “Man, you suck at this.”

“I didn’t exactly study hiking in school,” you grumbled, closing your eyes and breathing deep.

“I’d hardly call a walk ‘hiking’,” he commented, and you wimpishly smacked his arm. “We gotta work on your stamina.”

You could hear the smirk and underlying innuendo without needing to see his stupid, handsome face.

“In your dreams, pretty boy,” you muttered.

“How do you know what I dream about?”

Your eyes popped open to glare at the man as he fluttered his lashes and pressed his fingers to his chest. “You’re a menace,” you scowled, ignoring his faux ‘innocence’ in favor of looking ahead.

And getting the wind utterly knocked out of you.

This grandiose mansion was where he lived?

Balking, you stared up at his house from beneath the arch of the moon gate in front of it, taking in the sheer magnitude and extravagance of it, even from just the outside. A variety of leafy trees, well trimmed bushes, and aromatic flowers decorated it in precise symmetry, each individual blade of grass nipped to preeminence. 

There was a garden off to the left, freshly tended to and beautiful with a pond in the center. You couldn’t see what was in it, but you wouldn’t be surprised if koi fish were there as well.

A partially shaded gazebo stood on the other side, right next to a gentle creek that trickled leisurely. A stone table sat in the center, and you could imagine drinking tea in the early morning there, when the sun would hit it at the right angle to warm you up.

The aesthetic was prizewinning; a wonderful, skillful mix between traditional and modern, all incorporated into a house you thought could only exist in one of those style magazines.

How long had it been here? How had it been built so extravagantly? How much did it cost?

All these painfully curious questions, yet, the first thing you thought to say when you opened your mouth…

“You said it was nearby,” you pouted. “This is the other side of town.”

“Eh?” He glanced down at you. “Doesn’t seem that far to me.”

Your index finger flicked the outside of his thigh. “That’s because you’re a walking tree.”

Gojo slapped his thigh in the same spot, beaming at you. “These are good for a lot of things.”

“I’m sure,” the unamused deadpan you gave him had him snickering.

That shit-eating grin was back and he waggled his brows. “I could show you.”

“Pass,” you rolled your eyes, addressing his house instead. “Why is your house so far away from the village? Up the whole ass mountain and everything.”

He shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Dunno. It was built here a long time ago. Obviously upgraded over the years, duh, but if I had to guess, it’s because of the hot spring. The rest of the village just built lower down the path for convenience, or they were intimidated by the Gojo name.”

“Hot spring?” You furrowed your brow. 

Nonchalant as always, he nodded. “Yeah, there’s a natural hot spring in the backyard.”

“I’m sorry, did you just say you have a hot spring in your backyard?”

Being the rich boy that he was, he cocked his head to the side and spared you an inquisitive peek, as if to say ‘you don’t have one?’ “Yeah? You wanna see?”

“Uh, yes?” You gawked shamelessly.

Satoru grinned and beckoned for you to follow, and you skipped right along behind him, barely managing to remind yourself to hurriedly take off your shoes at the door. You had to force yourself to be careful and line them up neatly. You also used this chance to eye the obviously rich-people footwear. You wouldn’t hesitate to bet that one pair alone was worth more than one of your kidneys.

All worries of him being a potential monster dashed out the window as you let him lead you through the winding halls to a shoji door near the back of his house – you had to guess, you were not paying attention at all. You were too focused on the expensive decor and feeling way out of place.

The scenery that greeted you as soon as the door slid open had you stopping dead in your tracks in shere awe.

He hadn’t been lying, there really was a hot spring in his backyard. You couldn’t find it in yourself to care about his smug expression, mindlessly allowing him to gently push you forward with a hand to the small of your back.

“Close your mouth, you’ll start drooling,” he teased.

Your jaw clicked shut and you shot him a half-hearted glare before your attention returned to the pool of steaming water ahead of you.

The entire area was gorgeous, honestly. Round stone circles created a path along gravel from the engawa to the basin, which was surrounded mostly by rocks with plants growing between cracks and around the base here and there. Massive pines encompassed the entire area, giving you the sensation of safety and protection.

A trail on the side led somewhere else, winding between mounds of perfectly maintained green terra, though that was of insignificant interest to you at the moment.

An instruction was murmured against the shell of your ear, and you wordlessly and thoughtlessly obeyed. “Look up.”

“...Oh.”

High above, between the gaps in the trees, you had a prime view of the sky, spanning across the ring the forest created, deep and wondrous and so…clear. The brightest blue you had ever seen. If the moon got caught just right, exactly in the middle, you believed magic would happen.

The towering pines kept the area shaded and pleasantly cool, and you were swept away by the urge to sink into the hot spring and let everything else fade away. 

When you lowered your chin to look at him, you found he was already gazing at you, his grin softened to a small upturn of his lips at the corners. He was just so…divine. Moonflower hair framed his face, cottony and fluffy, and though you couldn’t see his eyes clearly through the indigo tint of his shades, you could feel them. They were piercing, capable of seeing right through your skin and witnessing your heart beating as it stuttered and struggled to regain its footing. 

The way he studied you felt so familiar.

An intense watch, pinned directly on you, making the hairs on your nape stand.

You yearned to see his hues without the barrier his dark, round glasses provided, and you wondered if they could rival those of the sky, or the gods’. 

“Whatcha think?” He asked silkenly as he leaned forward and tilted his head to be closer to you.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured in response without really thinking, the words flowing out of you without your conscious action. “It’s like a dream.”

You weren’t sure if you meant the eden you were brought to, or the heavenly being beside you. Either way, he smiled radiantly at you and nudged your shoulder lightly with his own.

“Wanna touch it?”

Your lashes fluttered as you tried to come back to yourself and not let your mind wander to places you could not reach. “The hot spring?”

“Mhmm.”

It took a considerable amount of effort to tear your eyes off of him and set them back on the cirque of water hidden beneath mist. Like a siren’s song, you slipped on the outdoor slippers nearby and stepped off the engawa, pacing along the stone path. It was smoother, flush with the terrain, unlike the haphazardous placements of the ones you had at your own home.

The pool was milky, tinted with a rich, capri shade, reminding you instantly of a lagoon, or a salt flat mirroring the zion above that went on as far as the eye could see. A miniscule waterfall trickled placidly from the highest outcropping, following the narrow and shallow path it had carved for itself over countless years.

You resisted the urge to cup it in your hands and drink it like sacred nectar.

At the edge, you knelt down and skimmed the tips of your fingers across the water’s surface. Goosebumps broke out across your arm and you shuddered inadvertently. Heat spread over your palm as steam coiled around you, surrounding you partially in a cocoon of warmth. The temperature bordered on the line between too hot and not enough finely, urging you to crawl beneath the water’s cusp and embrace the cradle of coziness.

“Good, isn’t it?” Gojo startled you as he spoke from where he knelt down next to you. He seemed to be proficient at scaring the shit out of you. This close, you could detect his attar clearly, and the last part of his unique fragrance finally fell into place.

Lemon.

He smelled like sweet lemons and mint.

“Yeah–” you squeaked, and cleared your throat to try again. “Yeah, it’s really nice. Like…perfect, actually.”

He snickered and dipped his hand into the diaphanous liquid, bringing it back up to splash it onto your arm. With a cry of mock offense, you splashed him right back, cracking up as you managed to get a decent scoop into his mouth. 

You didn’t know what it was about him. Rightfully, you’d only been aware of each other for less than two hours, but it felt like you’d known him your whole life. The banter flowed easily, the games you hadn’t played since you were so young that you could only vaguely remember, the way he spoke to you, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

No heavy feelings sat on your chest, creaking the brittle bars of your ribcage, filling you with an innate sense of dread and desire to flee and never stop for a second. Nothing of the sort crossed your mind. No rock weighed in the pit of your stomach, no widow’s voice murmured in your ear.

It was just you and him, in a bubble of time where nothing and everything mattered all at once. Every breath you took was meaningless, yet held the weight of the world. Every twitch of his fingers could rest even the weariest souls, or rend the sky apart should he ever care to. 

But he didn’t, and neither did you. 

This pocket-sized domain of serenity you found yourself in brought forth dormant feelings of ease and comfort. 

They didn’t feel like a mask painted on to cover the blooming, spreading bruises under your skin and behind your solar plexus. They didn’t feel like a temporary setup to sate your mind until the panic overwhelmed you all over again.

Rather, they composed a nest of the finest blankets you’d ever touched, let alone slept within. You wanted to crawl in and close your eyes and hibernate, sleep as life passed you by. You wanted to live in this moment forever.

The shoulder of his shirt grew damp where he rubbed his curled lips against it. “Kitty’s got claws, huh?”

“Fangs, too,” your nose scrunched up as you gave him a sly, Cheshire cat smile. “I’ll let you kill me if you let me use your hot spring first.”

“Deal.”

You snorted. “Not even gonna dispute it, huh?”

“I’m assuming the ‘kill’ part is optional here.”

“I won’t push my luck then,” you accepted as you stood up, shaking any excess moisture off your hand. Upon remembering Granny, you pulled out your phone from your purse, tsking at the 47% charge level in the top right corner, then glanced at the time. Midday.

Satoru peeped over your shoulder after he rose up. “Whatcha lookin’ at?”

“Time,” you replied, shooing him away to stop him from being nosy. Not that you really had anything worth hiding. 

Most of the pictures on your phone were photos you’d taken of the outside world during your trips, random things that meant something at the time you snapped the pic, but meant absolutely zip now, or blurry images of animals that refused to stay still for you.

“Granny wanted me to explore the town to get more familiar with it, then stop by for lunch,” your phone locked with a click as you stuffed it back in your bag and continued your explanation.

He whistled. “Adopted by Granny, and on your first day, too? That’s impressive, means you’re special.”

“Eh?” Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Why? She seems like she’d be a nice person to everyone.”

He chuckled as you both headed back into his house. “Granny’s a prickly lady. Don’t get me wrong, she cares about everyone in the village,” he reassured you as he let you step in first and slid the door shut behind him, “but mostly in a ‘I-will-throw-my-shoe-at-you’ kind of way.”

“Huh,” that didn’t sound too far off from Granny, given what you knew, but you had also only met her that morning. “She gave me free food and told me she’ll have a list of handymen when I go back today.”

“Wow. She won’t even let me steal a candy bar from her store, and I’ve known her my whole life. Must mean you’re really special.”

“There’s a difference between buying and stealing, Gojo,” pausing in your steps, you frowned as contemplation came over you. “...Do you think she thinks I’m incompetent?”

“Probably.”

“Gojo!” You hissed at his lackadaisical response.

His hands raised in surrender. “Kidding, kidding! I think it just means she likes you. C’mon, I’ll show you around town.”

Following his actions, you tugged your shoes on while you thought aloud. “I didn’t even do anything. Walked around her store like an idiot and nearly ran into her.”

You stepped out of the house behind him, waiting for his response. You had expected him to laugh and indeed confirm that you were an idiot (which would be twice that day, if you were keeping proper track), or come up with another quip to taunt you with, but he was quiet, pondering something.

“You have this…aura about you,” he eventually responded. “You’re different.”

“In what way?” You approached the topic carefully, wondering if that was a good or bad thing.

His shoulders lifted and dropped. “Dunno, I’m not good with words. You’re just different. You’re easy to like.”

The incline down from his house back to the village was easier than going up it, a slow slope that followed a mild curve. The road was smooth, free of cars. Those you had seen were parked along the streets below, and not often used from what you could tell. The walk gave you time to consider his words.

You’d heard them before, but nobody ever clarified how you differed from others. He said you were likable, so you chose to believe he meant it in a good way. You’d try to pry more information out of him at some point to sate your cautious curiosity.

“How long have you been here?” You asked instead to change the topic, then winced, remembering that he mentioned his family had been here for a long time.

“Eh,” he tilted his hand side to side a few times. “Maybe 15 or so years, including my baby years.”

Oh. Turns out you were…wrong?

“You weren’t born here?”

“No, I was,” he corrected. Ah, so you were. “I just spent a few school years in Tokyo before returning not too long ago.” Sort of.

“Oh, I see,” mindlessly, you took his hand when he offered it to help you step over a gap at the bottom of the hill. His palm radiated warmth, one you missed when he pulled away and continued leading you along. “Why’d you come back?”

“Missed home.” Your gaze met his when he shot you a glance from over his shoulder. “What about you, sweets? Where'd ya come from?” Upon your answer, he nodded. “Came a long way to get here, huh?”

It’s probably best if I don’t tell him why I came here. Not yet. Not ever. “You could say that,” you responded, stopping when he did. You were grateful that he didn’t push the topic.

He pointed towards something, and you angled forward to see around his body, listening carefully as he explained what was where as he guided you through the winding streets.

“Doctor lives there,” you raised a brow at the full body shudder he experienced. “She can get scary when she’s mad. Otherwise, chill person.”

“Noted.”

While you were curious about the doctor of this village, you had no intention of meeting her by ending up in her clinic after doing something moronic, like tripping on those stupid stones outside your front door. Or walking in purely to introduce yourself. That’d be weird.

As he pointed out various family homes, stores, and miscellaneous locations, he listed off names you definitely weren't going to remember anytime soon. You found it endearing that he knew everyone and shared some tidbits of gossip with you – “Auntie Furiko lives there and she totally has a grudge against Mirio-san for stealing her man.” – and he even imparted some knowledge about a few historical places and things in the village, such as the bridge over the river having been built some 400-odd years ago. 

“It was originally built as a passage that only allowed humans through,” he explained. “Back then, cursed spirits were a common thing, so the founders here created a path that had a sort of invisible wall that cursed spirits and objects couldn't get through. Like a curtain.”

“Huh,” you responded plainly as you examined the bridge. “Couldn't the spirits just go through the river?”

His candytuft hair fluffed as he shook his head. “The veil goes around the entire village, the bridge was just there for convenience's sake,” he cocked his head towards you. “But those are just legends and stories. There's plenty of tales about jujutsu sorcerers that could see the cursed spirits and eradicate them. Some people still believe cursed spirits and sorcerers are a thing, and blame disasters, like earthquakes and tsunamis, on them.”

You raised a curious expression. “Do you believe in that?”

Satoru shrugged. “To me, it’s like believing in ghosts or demons. Even if they are real, there's no way they'd beat me,” of course, he said that last bit with full-bodied, unadulterated confidence. “I'm the best.”

A fond snort escaped you. An egomaniac as a new friend(?), that seemed exactly like the kind of trouble you'd get yourself into.

Your eyes shifted over to peer at the Wayo Kenchiko edifice situated higher up, reminding you of the wonder you felt when you first saw it.

You turned fully towards it and tugged on Gojo’s shirt to draw his attention to it as well, your interest taking precedence as you regarded it. “Hey, what’s that?”

“Hm?” He followed your line of sight. “The temple?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s technically a shrine,” he clarified. “It was built when the settlers first got here, dedicated to the wolves of the mountains.”

You squinted at him. “Wolves?”

He nodded eagerly. You never would have guessed him to be somewhat of a history buff. “Yep. Wolves are like…guardian dogs. They’re long gone now, but way back then, it's said they hunted alongside the settlers. Wolves are seen as messengers for mountain gods, so people would pray to them for safety, good hunts, and good harvests.”

You nodded as you followed along. “So you guys primarily farm here, then?”

“More or less. Though we do get a lot of imported stuff from the neighboring city, like the things in Granny’s store. We do mostly exports there. It’s where a lot of the people in this village work.”

“Really?” You frowned slightly. “Isn’t that city, like…an hour or so from here?”

He acceded and tilted his head to the side. “Yeah, why?”

“Just seems like a far way to go for work.”

Gojo shrugged as he started walking again, leading you further into town. “Keeps our village alive and well. We gotta keep up with the times, ya know?”

“Suppose so,” you acquiesced. “What do you guys farm here?”

“Ehh, rice and soya, I think,” the teasing twist of his lips had you preemptively rolling your eyes. “Surprised you didn’t know that, girlie; moving to a new place you know nothing about seems risky.”

“I didn’t exactly spend my time digging into the dirt of every single person here, y’know.”

He snickered. “I have dirt on everyone. You want some gossip?”

You huffed. “I’d rather meet someone first before you air their dirty laundry to me. I wanna have an unbiased palate.”

“Oh, so you want to meet the people in this lil’ valley of ours?”

“No,” you replied automatically, then pressed your lips tightly together at your minor flub. “I meant– it’s not– I’m just not–”

His boisterous laughter cut you off, simultaneously making your eye twitch and relief flood you.

“Relax, pretty girl,” he patted your head and you scowled. “I’m just teasin’ ya.”

“I’m seriously going to kill you.”

“Cute,” he crooned, and you groaned.

By the time you two walked up to your kind-of-not-really-grandmother’s shop, you were starting to become familiar with this particular section of road. From here, you knew how to get ‘home’, something you were dreading a touch. You weren’t looking forward to seeing the catastrophe that awaited you.

“And this is where I leave you for now,” he stopped with you in front of the store.

You frowned minutely, an uncomfortable pang of disappointment settling in your chest. “You’re not coming in?”

“Nah,” Gojo shook his head. “Got stuff I need to do. I’ll have someone pick you up from your house later, once you get your stuff. Gimme your phone for a sec.”

Your brows knitted together as you pulled out your phone and unlocked it for him. His fingers grazed yours as you passed the device, causing you to shiver at the temperature difference. They were so warm – or maybe your hands were cold. The touch lingered on your skin, your mind clinging to the tiny wisp of sensation.

The screen of your phone coming back into your line of sight brought you back from mildly zoning out. Almost uncertain, you took it back from him and peered at the screen to see what he did.

You snorted.

He set up his own contact in your address book, making it extra flashy and everything, too. ✨❤️Satoru❤️✨ graced your sight, and you couldn’t help but feel like that wasn’t the first time he had done this, the flamboyant clown.

“There,” he grinned. “Text me when you’ve got your stuff from your place.”

Stuffing the device back into your purse, your moue returned. “You want me to bring my shit to your house?”

His brow raised in response. “Uh, yeah? Were you just gonna leave it in that drab hut?”

“Well, I just thought I’d get a room at an inn or something tomorrow, so I don’t have to bother you.”

The usually bright expression on Satoru’s face fell somewhat, his voice taking a earnest tone when he said your name. The back of your neck tingled at the chime of your name passing through his lips. “You’re not a bother. Seriously, I have more space than I know what to do with. You can stay at my place as long as you need, I insist.”

His change in demeanor threw you for a loop. There was something lying under the surface of his countenance, hidden under layers of a façade wrapped too tightly around his inner being for you to ever hope to see what was beneath. The switch from goofy to sincere struck you as odd, and while you could have jumped back on the ‘he’s a psycho’ train of thought, his insistence didn’t resemble that of a hunter panicking about losing his prey.

Rather, it stemmed from a genuine offer made out of concern for your wellbeing. Sure, he could have been hiding some intentions (he definitely was), but he did show you the path to his house, convoluted as it was, at least some of its interior, and even the hot spring carved behind it. When you mentioned Granny, he seemed amused, rather than worried, and showed you around these confusing and interesting backwoods.

Thinking about the whole mess you had gotten yourself into, what with buying a house in a province you knew nothing about, and your limited funds, an uneasy heaviness sat in your gut. If he was suggesting an option of solace and shelter while you figured your shit out, you had very few reasons to decline.

A bit too readily, perhaps, you set aside any preconceived notions you had about him being suspicious and nodded. “Alright. Thank you, Gojo.”

“Just Satoru is fine,” that smug visage returned, all earlier signs of sobriety fading as quickly as they came. He turned back towards the way you came from, waving over his shoulder lazily. “See ya later, sweets.”

You spied on him for a while, until he disappeared around a bend, and sighed. Considering everything that happened so far, you surmised you were in way over your head.

The doorbell to Granny’s store pinged a sweet tune as you stepped in, finding the familiar scene nearly untouched from before. The air inside was pleasantly cool compared to outside, encouraging you to relax.

“Granny?” You called out as you stepped further in, glancing down the first aisle. “Are you here?”

“Ah!” The woman you were searching for called out from a separate room, appearing through a door you hadn’t noticed at the back of the store before, carrying a bento box. “Perfect timing, I finished that list for you.”

She beckoned you towards her as she rounded the counter, setting the bento box down on top of it and digging around for something under the tabletop before straightening and holding out a sheet of paper for you to take. Your fingers closed around the yellow notebook sheet and you peered down at the writing. 

You silently thanked her for having a neat hand, as you were a tad rusty on your hiragana.

A row of names spanned down the paper, along with numbers next to each one. She had also included their specific occupations, making your life that much easier. 

“Those are some folks in this village that can help you out. Unfortunately, most of them work in the city, so I fear you might not be able to fix up your house so soon,” Granny noted solemnly as began untying the beautifully designed furoshiki wrapped around, presumably, your food. “Let me call up a friend to find you a place to stay for the time being.”

“Oh, n-no, it’s fine, Granny!” You raised your hands in front of you. “I actually found somewhere to stay.”

She raised a brow at you. “With whom?”

The nervous laugh you let out was meek and not very reassuring. “I, uh…ran into Gojo Satoru, and he offered to house me. I was gonna find an inn, but…’

A perturbed expression morphed her stern features. “Really? Little Satoru offered to house you?”

Little was a gnarly stretch on her part, considering Satoru easily dwarfed both of you. “Is that bad?”

Granny sighed and shook her head as she finished undoing the cloth. “Not necessarily. He’s a troublemaker, that one, but…well, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him invite someone who isn’t one of his close friends to stay with him before.”

“Huh,” Your lips curled downwards. Were you actually so unique that he treated you differently than others? “He’s a bit…” You fumbled with your words, trying to find the right description. “Dramatic, for lack of a better word, but he showed me around and said he’ll have someone pick me up later.”

Her movements had slowed as she kept her eyes on you while popping open the box, studying you. She grabbed the pair of chopsticks in the lid and held the food towards you, which you took without fuss and with a quick ‘thank you’. The length of silence was beginning to unsettle you, so you tried to cover it by taking a bite of the katsu she prepared for you.

And maybe groaning tacitly because, fuck, was it good. Astounding, otherworldly, you would bet easy money that no 5-star restaurant could compare to Granny’s cooking.

Eventually, she spoke again, albeit puzzling you. “It’s no wonder you caught their attention. You are a beautiful, bright young woman.”

Your chopsticks hovered mid-bite. “‘Their’?”

“Mhmm,” the older lady nodded and tsked fondly as she grabbed a hand towel and wiped down a portion of the already spotless surface under her hands. “There’s two of them.”

A pin could drop in the room and it’d be deafening with the silence created by your shock. “There’s two Gojo’s?” 

Her amusement turned into full blown laughter. “No, but there might as well be.” she corrected herself. “Those two are stick at the hip–”

The jingle of the bell over the door and the call of someone cut her off. You turned to watch as an attractive woman with mid-length brunette hair stepped into the room, carrying a box in her arms. Were all the people in this town contemptuously stunning? “Granny, I got the–” she stopped promptly upon seeing you. “You’re new.”

You nodded and your pseudo-grandmother introduced you. 

“I see,” the brown-haired girl said with a nod. “Well, nice to meet you. I’m Ieiri Shoko, your local doctor and mortician. Just call me Shoko.”

So, this was the doc– wait, what?

Your eyes widened. “...Mortician?”

“Correct,” Shoko grunted as she dropped the hefty box on the floor with a grunt. “Which means you shouldn’t do something stupid or piss me off unless you want to end up in my morgue.”

Now you had two reasons to fear her, counting Satoru’s warning. “Duly noted.”

Your gaze followed her as she reposed against the nearby wall, crossing her arms over her chest. “When’d you get in?”

“Last night.”

“Helluva place to settle,” she commented. “What brought you here of all options?”

Settle.

I’m not so sure about that.

You chewed another piece of katsu and swallowed before answering. “Population. I’m not a very big people-person.”

A smile lifted her lips and she exhaled through her nose. “You and me both, girl. If you wanna be as far away from mass civilization as possible, this is the best place to be. Second only to going nomad and living in a forest alone like a witch.”

She sighed wistfully, and you had the sneaking suspicion that part of her yearned for that kind of lifestyle. “Looks like you’ve thought about it before.”

“I have, but this town is full of idiots that need me, or they would have died a long time ago.”

“Shoko, be nice,” Granny scolded half-heartedly, though you could spot the amusement in her eyes.

“What? I’m not wrong,” Shoko averred as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. 

Just as she went to open it, Granny swatted her hands and gave her a scathing glare. “Not inside, Shoko. Really, go outside, at least.”

The doctor/mortician grumbled as she stuffed the box back where it came from, giving Granny a weak stink eye. “Anyways, welcome to this miniature province of ours, girl.”

“Thanks.”

“Mm,” she acknowledged, then began a lecture. “Avoid the west trail that goes past the village boundary and up the mountain. Nothing bad there, just has this weird smell to it. Probably haunted by some shit,” Shoko informed you. “Also muddy half the year. Grandma Ai can and will talk your ear off if you stop for more than a second. Good luck getting away from her if she ever catches you.”

You munched slowly as you listened to her advice intently. In any of the cities you stopped by, there weren’t really any communities – not like this, anyway – so you were fascinated by the dynamics these people displayed.

Yes, you were wary, sure, but learning about the town’s intricately interwoven families and neighbors didn’t mean you were getting close to anyone. If anything, it meant you could avoid attachments.

…Right?

Yes. Right.

“–Wednesday is trash collection day, but you might have to bring your trash closer into town if you’re too far out. Oh, and don’t go to the park on Thursday nights–”

You blinked yourself back into full awareness. Your safe haven the park was off limits now? “Wait, why?”

She humbled you with a deadpan that had you straightening your back, imploring you to obey. “Aoi and her boyfriend like to fuck there on Thursday nights.”

“Tch,” Granny clicked her tongue, glaring at Shoko. “Don’t be so crass. We have a guest.”

“Ah, don’t worry,” you waved off her concern. “I don’t mind. I appreciate the forewarning. Besides,” your lips curled into a playful smirk aimed towards Shoko, “I like when people are straightforward.”

She returned the grin with a sly one of her own. “You and I are gonna get along well.”

Similarly to Satoru, speaking to Shoko was easy. It felt like you were reconnecting with old friends – friends you knew when you were unfledged and barely remember anything about, but the link was there.

She nodded as your conversation concluded and pushed herself off the wall, evidently needing to return to where she came from. “Well, if you need me, you know where to– ah, wait, you don’t.”

Shoko patted down her body, presumably in search of her phone or a notepad, but you reassured her hastily. “No, it’s fine! I do, Gojo showed me around earlier.”

Her head whipped up so quickly, you worried she might have snapped it when you heard it crack. “Oh, god, you already met that idiot?”

The short laugh you let out was undignified. “Yep. He’s very noticeable.”

“You can say that again,” she grumbled. “Please don’t tell me he did something dumb and embarrassed himself, or weirded you out. Don’t pay attention to him, he’s just like that.”

“Well, he said I could stay at his place since the house I got is in…less than favorable condition.”

She stilled on the spot, her brows slowly coming together in a visage of utter confusion. “...What? He said you could stay with him?”

“Is he a murderer?” You questioned, only half joking. “I knew it.”

“No, no, he’s not, he’s just…” She turned her gaze to Granny. “Did you know about this?”

“I’m as surprised as you are,” Granny responded.

Your tummy shifted uneasily. “Is…that a bad thing?” You knew Granny said it wasn’t earlier, but you had to ask again.

“No, not really…” Shoko was not easing your nerves whatsoever. “Just unusual.”

“How come?”

She pulled her lips to the side in consideration. “Gojo Satoru is someone who…likes to hide things.”

“Oh, so he is a murderer.”

She demurred at your conclusion. “Last I checked, no. Regardless, he can be kind of a dick sometimes, so don’t take any of his more outlandish shit to heart, yeah?”

You bobbed your head loosely, your mind already off creating heinous conspiracy theories about your benefactor. “Yeah. Thanks for letting me know.”

“Mm, it’s no problem,” she approached you and held out her hand. “Gimme your phone, I’ll give you my number. You can text me if he tries to pull some shit with you.”

Getting a strong sense of déjà vu, you handed her your phone and watched as she punched in her number, then called her phone to get your number as well. Yours was back in your hands in record time, contact set to just her name.

“There. I gotta head off for now, it was nice to meet you, girl,” Shoko waved to you and Granny as she disappeared through the door.

Soft huffing from behind you had you peek at the woman. “What?”

“It’s nothing,” Granny appeased. “Just seems you’ve had an eventful first day here, no?”

“No kidding,” you mumbled, pouting when you saw that you had finished your food. She took the empty box from you, pleased by it being practically licked spotless. “Thank you, it was really delicious.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed your meal,” she nodded. She must have put a lot of effort into it.

A thought occurred to you then. “Granny, do you know where I could possibly get a job?”

She raised a brow at you. “You want to work?”

“Well, yeah,” you scratched your cheek. “I’d try to find a job online, or the city, but I don’t really know what kind of work I can get with the first option, and I don’t have a car or anything for the second one.”

Her fingers cupped her chin in consideration. “How about you work here?”

“In your store?”

“Yes,” Wait, that easily? “I could always use more hands here. I’m getting up there in age, and my hands ache often. You’d be helping me a lot.”

“Are you sure…?” You gave her a concerned mien, subconsciously flicking your eyes down to her hands. “I don’t wanna take from you more than I already have.”

Granny merely brushed away your worries. “Nonsense. I could use the company, too.”

Okay, now you were starting to get suspicious. Things were lining up too well.

Well, you weren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth, but considered keeping your guard up.

“Alright,” you agreed, if somewhat hesitant. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Granny’s expression was heartwarming. “Wonderful! How about you take a week or so to settle in, then you can come start when you’re ready?”

“Well, I can start sooner. If you need the help anyway.”

“How about a few days?”

Stubborn old lady, you loved her already. “Fine, a few days,” you conceded, soughing. “Thanks again for the food, Granny. And for the job. I should probably get my stuff from my place and bring it to Gojo’s. You’ll be okay?”

“Don’t worry about me, dear,” she shooed you away with her fingers. “Go on, now. I’ll see you soon.”

The warm air raised goosebumps up your arms as it swept over you upon leaving. It smelled distinctly sweet, a natural fragrance you quickly became fond of, enjoying it wholly during your walk back home. It had been shorter this time, the transition from defined road to coarse, packed dirt closer to town than you remembered it being.

What you were not fond of was your house, however. Your spite towards those stepping stones leading to the door growing worse as you avoided tripping over them again. The stench upon opening the front door also blew you back, making your entire face scrunch up.

“Why did I do this to myself,” you grumbled as you cynically walked in. Daylight made your perception so much worse. Every flaw was practically highlighted in bright, blaring white.

You mulled over convincing Satoru to just let you live with him and forget this damn thing ever existed to begin with. 

Discovering your luggage where you left it, you cringed. It just kept getting worse. The floor was sticky everywhere. With what? Who knows. Did you want to know? Abso-fucking-lutely not. It took you less than a fraction of a second to decide to abandon your sleeping bag where it was. 

Like hell were you going to peel it off the tacky wood, let alone use it again. Not like you needed to if you had somewhere to stay anyway, right?

Since when did you become such a wastrel?

Ugh.

With a shake of your head, you rescued your suitcase and luggage bag, letting them feel the same fresh air you could. It was the little things in life that made you so grateful for this pristine oxygen. And the bigger things in life that made you extra grateful, like Gojo Satoru and his stupidly large house. 

Bless him for giving you the opportunity to sleep in an actual bed, rather than suffering in the outdoors. Him being a sneaky skunk notwithstanding.

Welp, here goes nothing. You tapped his contact, then the bubble under it. You were just going to assume he knew who was texting him.

This is the start of your conversation with ✨❤️Satoru❤️✨.

You, 16:24

Yo

Got my stuff

Alright, now you just wai–

✨❤️Satoru❤️✨, 16:24

(＾▽＾)

give it 10

The fuck.

Emoticon aside, the instant reply caught you off guard. Didn’t he say he had things to do? The day was just full of wonders, huh?

Ten minutes went by fast when you pulled up some random bad fanfiction to scroll through mindlessly. Your attention was drawn away from the half-written mess when a black sedan rolled up in front of your property, and you whistled low. 

Why the hell was a rich boy like Satoru living in the sticks and not in some penthouse in the middle of Tokyo?

A spindly figure climbed out and bowed at you politely, hands clasped together in front of him. His voice was wispy, light and reserved. “Pleasure to meet you, miss. My name is Ijichi Kiyotaka, Gojo-san requested I bring you to his residence.”

Ah, he seemed so nervous. Poor guy.

You nodded, choosing not to comment on it. You were intimate with the feeling and didn’t like others pointing it out, you figured he wouldn’t, either. “It’s nice to meet you, too. I’m sorry for the trouble.”

He shook his head as he popped the trunk and helped you tuck away your luggage. “It’s no trouble at all. Though, admittedly, it is nice to not have to drive far out this time.”

“Oh?” You questioned as he opened the back door for you and oh, my, were those leather seats? The car was lavish both inside and out, and probably cost more than you and your shoddy lil’ shack combined. You waited until he got into the driver’s seat, taking the extra few seconds to admire the car that you definitely should not have been in as it was clearly too high class for you, before continuing. “Do you usually have to drive to the city?”

“Yes,” Ijichi confirmed, starting up the car with a smooth purr that you barely heard. Leave it to the wealthy to find the best of the best in any category, uncaring of prices. “I’m normally just a chauffeur for the Gojo household.”

You bobbed your head in understanding, peering out of the tinted window to watch everything move by. The traditional architecture was beautiful, something you admired. It made your house stick out a bit like a sore thumb, considering the more western design; you pondered why it was built like that.

The twisting road leading up the mountainside began and ended all too soon, the whole trip lasting less than 5 minutes total, your destination completed with Ijichi parking outside of the mansion.

Ever the gentleman (though, he might have been resolute in helping you with your belongings directly due to fear of some kind of punishment looming over his head), he took your things and led you into the house. “This way, please. I’ve already set up your room for you.”

“Oh, thank you,” you murmured, taking this chance to gawk at everything more properly. Frankly, it smelled rich inside, you didn’t want to think about how expensive even just the vase on the coffee table was.

The sliding of a door signaled your journey’s end. Ijichi bowed and ushered you inside first, though you kind of wished he went in before you, because you were positively floored and most definitely seemed like an idiot with your jaw hanging open. What the fuck? Satoru said this was a spare room? You were expecting maybe, oh, I don’t know, normal guest room things?

Not the epitome of a deluxe hotel for fuck’s sake. The room was at least twice the size of the one you slept in yesterday, the bed was glamorous (queen size, too, Christ), the bedding laid so nicely that you debated sleeping on the ground a second time, just to avoid messing it up. Especially because the fluffy rug at the foot of the frame was so downy, you wanted to drown in it. 

There’s no way this was real. Someone had to have been playing a joke on you. You spun to watch Ijichi as he carefully set your suitcase and bag against the wall by the door, waiting for him to rip the proverbial, and likely not fluffy, rug from under your feet.

Instead, he bowed once more, eyes closed. “Should you need anything, you may call for me. The restroom and bathroom are on the right when you exit. Please, feel free to bathe, if you wish. Make yourself at home. Gojo-san is out right now, but will be back by evening.”

You barely stuttered out a semi-coherent thank-you as he left, sliding the door shut behind him and leaving you in this splendor.

Surely this was a joke. You dreaded the inevitable turn, expected the door to open to a cackling Gojo Satoru as he wheezed his lungs out and pulled some ‘I can’t believe you fell for it!’ bullshit.

But it didn’t happen. 

For however long you stood there, staring holes through the closed entrance, nobody came to reveal this was all an elaborate joke, with you playing the unsuspecting and dumb victim. You laggardly let out the breath you had been holding and poked around the room with cautious hope. It really was spectacular, but you truly wondered how long Gojo would let you stay here.

By the gods, you were tired of thinking, though, and a shower would be heavenly. You could worry about everything after you were scrubbed dirt-free.

…Assuming you wouldn’t get jumped in the shower instead of the bedroom.

“You’re being paranoid,” you scolded yourself under your breath as you opened your suitcase to grab a change of clothes. But, really, could anyone blame you? You were sure someone else would have felt the exact same way you did.

Unless they were a professional freeloader or something.

Your soap and tiny bottles of shampoo and conditioner were so sad compared to everything else around you. You should have checked if Granny’s store had any bath products.

The bathroom was just as luxurious and fully stocked as everything else in this damn estate. Dark, rich wood encompassed the room; a sink was to your left with a sparkling mirror above it, an open shower to your right towards the back, and the chef-d’œuvre of it all: the sunken bathtub at the end. A frosted glass window was situated behind it, shades partially lowered to allow natural light in through the bottom.

Fuck, you were so out of your depth.

But were you going to deny enjoying such riches at least once in your life? Hell no.

You turned to set your stuff down on the counter space by the sink, glancing towards the row of very expensive bottles of different types of cleansers lined up against the wall, and the note in front of them. 

Grasping it, you saw it had your name on it, written by hand. You flipped it over to see the short message left behind.

These are yours, use them as you please

~Satoru ♥

Ohoho, fancy products you could only ever scowl at forlornly at the store whenever you saw them, fantasizing about using them, though ultimately being shunned by the price tag? Fuck feeling apprehensive, you were damn well going to use those and indulge in feeling and smelling like a queen.

You’d never stripped faster in your life. You barely had half a mind to fold your clothes somewhat neatly and set them on the counter, rather than scattering them all across the floor as you stumbled out of your socks and hopped to the shower on one foot. 

Even the millions of knobs and stall-less design couldn’t deter your avidity, each one subjected to random twisting until you figured it out.

As soon as the bottles were on the recessed shelf under the showerhead, you loped under the hot water and groaned, planting your forehead against the cool wall whilst it poured down your back. You practically turned into putty, all your sore and tense muscles unwinding noticeably. The shower pointed out exactly how sleeping on the floor in your own house jacked up every part of your body, because ow. 

You honestly believed you could stand there forever, reluctant to leave, but that bathtub was calling to you.

So you grabbed the body wash first and flipped it over to read the label.

Oatmeal and almonds. Mmmh sweet fuck, you could dissolve into a puddle. It smelled heavenly, and you were giddy out of your skin knowing you were about to smell like that, too. It felt so silky-smooth on your palm, the perfume automatically coating you as you rubbed it in and savored the sensation. You didn’t think you’d ever be able to go back to normal, poor-person soap without lamenting the loss of this.

You can’t miss what you don’t know, and boy were you going to miss this if you had to leave it behind. Satoru did say it was yours to use and keep, though, didn’t he? Maybe you could yoink them when your place was all fixed up and you had to leave.

Suds coated your body in a thick layer of iridescent, white bubbles, flowing down the planes and curves of your figure with the water, rinsing every bit of your body to superb asepsis. Your hair had never known such extravagance when your fingers glided right through your locks, leaving them soft and addicting to touch. You understood now how Satoru’s was that fluffy.

You wanted to touch his hair, too.

Shaking your head to shoo away any very wholesome thoughts, you squeezed the excess water from your hair and turned off the shower, shivering at the sudden chill now that the perpetually toasty mist wasn’t surrounding you anymore.

Careful to avoid slipping, you tip-toed over to the tub and knelt down beside it, reaching for the handles. Hot water burst forth from the tap, rushing to fill the basin, and you noted how deep it was, contemplating if your knees would peek out from the surface if you sat with them bent. You had to be extra vigilant to prevent falling asleep in it and drowning.

You could drown after you got to take a dip in the hot spring in the backyard. Of course, you’d prefer not having to drown at all, but if you had to choose, you’d opt for the hot spring.

Daydreams of swimming in it played behind your eyes as you sank into the tub with a delighted sigh. What tranquility, lucking out like this. You didn’t know what god to thank, if any, but you’d happily grovel on your hands and knees to show your immense gratitude. Just getting a chance to live (well, bathe) in splendor for a single day was enough to fulfill some innate, deep desire you had inside.

Now that you had a moment away from the hectic day, you let yourself recount everything that happened, and question how the hell you got here.

Not 24 hours ago, you had arrived, a poor fool that nearly kicked the bucket on your own front porch, and since then, you were sort of adopted by a grandmother that fed you instead of throwing her shoe at you, met an eccentric, wealthy man who took after a deity ripped straight from mythos, and landed yourself not only a place to stay, but a place with said deity.

“What the hell…” You mumbled to yourself as you lowered yourself until only your eyes remained above the water, blowing bubbles. 

How did you get here?

Was this some sort of punishment? Give you a taste of the blest, then wrench it away from you? Karmic cruel and unusual castigation?

You grumbled underwater and lifted your head back up to breathe. Of course, you couldn’t help being paranoid, all of this was way too good to be true. Like some sort of game show–

Oh, god–

You sat up pin-straight and covered your chest, scanning the bathroom ceiling and walls for any hidden cameras. You scoured every surface, squinting extra hard to spot potential blinking lights or unusually-reflective circles.

Nada.

You went boneless, lounging against the back of the tub as you exhaled heavily.

You had probably been in the bath too long. Your fingers were starting to get pruny, and your brain all jumbled up with anxiety and skepticism.

Sluggishly, you pulled yourself out and dried off while the tub drained, pulling on your clean clothes with a relieved hum. You couldn’t remember the last time you treated yourself like this, if ever. 

You heard someone speaking from beyond the hallway, so after dropping off your old clothes in your room, you ventured out through the living room, where you found none other than your savior, chatting away with someone on the phone. He turned to you and instantly lit up.

“Ha-hey!” Satoru grinned and waved you over after quickly ending his call, laughing through his greeting. “You got here safe?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, moving to sit beside him at the kitchen island. “Ijichi-san is good at his job.”

The towheaded boy snickered. “Good, or else I would have flicked his forehead.”

“So, you’re the reason he looks so anxious all the time,” you scolded him, then apologized. “Sorry, by the way. I didn’t mean to drag you out of your conversation.”

“Bah,” he brushed it off. “No big deal, wasn’t anything important. So, settling in okay? Seems you already got familiar with the soaps ‘n’ stuff I got you, yeah?”

You nodded eagerly, lifting your arm to sniff at your wrist. “They smell so good, where did you get them?”

He planted his chin on his palm. “Nowhere you can afford.”

Your eyes narrowed into a sharp, unamused glare. “Wow, thanks.”

His cheeks crinkled his hues, and you realized he was still wearing his shades indoors. The glare of the sun no longer turned them into mirrors, allowing you to partially see through them, but the deep ocean hue of the lenses prevented you from deciphering the exact color of his irises.

What an abnormal choice of glasses. You knew people wore circular shades – they made them for a reason – but all the people you’d seen wearing them could never pull off the style.

Satoru was different, though. They suited him flawlessly; refined and dignified, yet boyish at the same time, just like the bearer.

“Let me know when you run out,” he said. “I’ll get you more.”

You jolted in surprise. “Oh! No, no, it’s fine! I’d feel bad using them all up, I don’t want to imagine the price tag…”

He pouted at you. “Why? You saw the note I left you, didn’t you? They’re yours, I got them specifically so you could use them.”

You worried your bottom lip. “Are you sure?”

“I don’t do anything I’m not sure of.”

Well, that’s all you needed to concede. “Alright. Thank you, I like them a lot.”

His moue instantly turned into a brilliant, cheek-aching smile. “I’m glad! Had me worried I picked the wrong stuff.”

His giddiness was contagious, making you giggle. “No! Not at all, I’m just– I’ve never seen the brand before.” It being a Japanese brand notwithstanding.

“Well, duh,” he rolled his eyes as he hopped off his stool and sauntered over to the fridge. “They don’t sell this kind of stuff in normal stores.”

“Where’d you get them from, then?”

“Made Ijichi fetch ‘em.”

You sighed heavily. “Poor guy. You work him to the bone, don’t you?”

He humphed as he withdrew something from the fridge – bento boxes, you recognized. He placed one down in front of you, and took his spot at the island back. “He’s fine. Gets paid well. It’s not like I make him go to the city for every little whim I have.”

You huffed as you pulled off the lid to your box, your mouth instantly salivating at the food within. You barely had the conscious thought left to clap your hands and murmur ‘itadakimasu’, as well as mentally slap yourself when you recalled that you had forgotten to do the same with Granny. 

You were able to restrain the moan of delight this time, unlike in front of the old lady, but damn was it hard to.

“Fuck…”

Gojo cackled beside you. “It’s good, I know.”

“Who made this?” You questioned, hand covering your mouth as you chewed. Ijichi must have been a good chef, too.

The man gave you a cocky smirk. “I did.”

…Hah?

You regarded him flatly, disbelieving. “Funny.”

“I’m serious!” He glowered.  “Is it so hard to believe I can cook?”

“A little,” you confessed around a bite of sausage. “Rich boys don’t usually know how to cook.”

His gaze pierced directly through you, brooding as he stuffed his mouth. “I’m never gonna cook for you again, just for that.”

Oh, so he was gonna do that? 

Hm, might as well play along.

You set down your chopsticks and turned to face him, slapping your hands together as you lowered your head to beseech his mercy. “Please, O’ Honored One, Gojo Satoru-sama! Forgive this witch her foolish words!”

He lifted his chin, judging you through his round shades with the pretense of a king adjudicating his subject’s worth. A few seconds passed before he nodded in approval. “Better. You’re forgiven.”

“Yay,” you laughed, immediately going back to eating. “It is really good though, thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” he responded, virtually inhaling his serving – not that you were any better.

“Where’d you learn how to cook?”

He swallowed and paused, speaking a fraction softer. “My mom taught me.”

Maybe a touchy subject. You noted it as something to not approach, instead choosing to compliment them both. “She taught you well.”

The boxes were empty in the blink of an eye, and you were both saying ‘gochisousama’ with a satisfying puff.

He grabbed the chopsticks and both boxes, placing them in the sink and filling them with water. “So you did research Japan a bit, eh? Knowing our customs.”

“I believe it comes with the territory of learning the language, yes,” you hopped off the stool, reclining against the counter. You winced minutely when your spine popped.

“How long have you been speaking Japanese?”

“Ehh,” you tilted your hand diagonally a few times. “I learned it a while back. I was studying abroad at the time. Didn’t really know it’d come in handy now, though.”

He dried off his hands with the hand towel nearby and cocked his head to the side. “Oh? You weren’t planning to move here?”

“Not…really,” you shrugged and rubbed the back of your neck. You had to tip-toe this line of conversation carefully.

He grinned, leaning forward to meet your gaze head-on as if he had just hit some sort of jackpot. “So you are running from something after all.” Fuck. “Well? What is it? Mafia?” No. “Loan sharks?” No. “Robbed somethin’ big?” No. “Exes?”

…Sort of.

“Let’s go with exes.”

“You’re quite the mysterious woman,” he chuckled low, voice taking on an evil little rasp. “Makes me wanna open you up.”

You batted your eyes, your brain lagging as your cheeks heated up because what the fuck, real men weren’t supposed to be this hot, and you were not supposed to be this asthenic in the knees just because he had a handsome face and an absurdly attractive voice that decided to say the most deviant shit.

“And you’re a terrible, terrible man, Gojo Satoru,” you admonished to cover your nonplussed emotions. 

“Mhm, mhm,” he nodded in complete agreement. “I’m a terrible, terrible man that decided to take you in out of the goodness of my heart.”

You sighed. “You’re going to use that against me, aren’t you.”

“Absolutely, I’m never letting you live this down.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, earning yourself a smirk hidden poorly behind an offended scoff. An oddly domestic sentiment perched in your center, just beneath your breastbone. A decent meal and the slow end to an intense day had you yawning behind the back of your hand. 

He yawned after you, the action infectious, and moped like a kid that wasn’t ready to go to bed.

The emotional weight of everything was coming down on you, and you craved for nothing more than to pass the fuck out under those incredibly plush and cozy looking blankets.

“Think that’s our cue,” you grumbled and rubbed the corner of your eye with your knuckle. “Or mine, anyway. I’m ready to conk out and sleep for, like, a century.”

He chuckled lazily, the noise husky and low. It wasn’t particularly late, no, but you felt like you’d been struck with a bus filled with mental and physical tax collected over a great deal of time. He waved you off, turning to strut down the hall opposite of the one you came through, and left you with a still cheery farewell.

Finally.

You well-nigh sprinted back to your room to nab your toiletries and sped through your simple nightly routine, impatient and antsy to dive into that queen-sized mattress. It’s not that you disliked Gojo’s company, quite the opposite, actually, but you were tired.

Usually, you tried to put off sleep until your body gave out in the early hours before morning, uncaring for the dreams that inevitably spawned, no matter how little or how much sleep you got.

But now?

Those sheets were hailing you.

You couldn’t brush your teeth quick enough. Your face was practically still damp with your moisturizer as you dived under the duvet and keened. You’d never known such opulence in your life.

Your legs kicked with glee as you snuggled in, squeaking and curling on your side and clutching the fabric of the blanket tightly in your hands to ensure it went nowhere while you pranced around in dreamland. Heaven. Pure and simple. Heaven with the fragrance of new pin laundry and your body wash, that held your head on the coziest lap, that hugged your form and incontinently coaxed you under the waves of hypnotic slumbering.

Comfort surrounded you. The mattress underneath you was the ideal level of firmness, the blankets were warm without being overbearingly hot, and being in such a neat environment swiftly lulled you into a far easier and more satisfying sleep than you’ve had in a long time.

banner by cafekitsune ♥

[thedovesaredying]

Monsters in the Dark | Nikto x Reader | Part 3

Third chapter of the Cowboy!Nikto series. Nikto has some emotions and has no idea what they mean or how to deal with them. Original Cowboy concept based on the AU by @ghouljams

A/N: Finally got enough time to work on this chapter after weeks and weeks of hectic stress with work and university. Thank you to all of those still following along with the story, I'll hopefully have the next part out soon. Fun fact: The story of a horse getting hurt running into a fence because they were so excited to see someone is from one of the silly yearlings at uni lol.

Warnings: Minor medical proceedures, Nikto getting a little jealous.

Masterlist: CoD Masterlist

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Nikto can’t help wondering if there’s anything that can ruin your seemingly perpetual good mood. Even with your body dripping with sweat and elbow deep inside of a cow, you’re still somehow grinning brightly at the farmer standing beside you. Doing a part of your job that some would consider... unpleasant at best, you’re able to act as if it’s the most exciting thing you’ve ever done.  

One of the other farm hands, a man about your age, if a year or two older, is acting a little too interested in what you’re doing, however, and Nikto’s jaw is aching with how hard he’s grinding his teeth together. They make a soft groaning sound as they suffer under the pressure he’s subjecting them to, but unfortunately, it’s the only thing keeping him from snapping at “Darren” when the man crowds close to you with what he must think is a suave grin.  

“Alright, I can feel the cervix now,” you hum, and he can see the way your arm twists slightly within the animal, “it’s pretty easy to manoeuvre it around.” You frown to yourself, seemingly oblivious to the way that annoying brat leans a little closer, “the reproductive tract isn’t very heavy.” 

“And what’s that mean, darlin’?” Darren asks, and Nikto can’t decide what he hates more, the tone the other man is using to address you, or the way he thinks it’s okay to place a hand on your shoulder. The gelding underneath Nikto snorts, shifting uncertainly as he likely senses the tension brewing.  

“Oh,” you blink at Darren, as if only just noticing him for the first time, “normally you wouldn’t be able to move the cervix around so easily if she was carrying a calf, I’d be able to feel at least a little weight to it.” You reach a little further into the cow, taking a few moments longer before adding, “I can also feel the horns of her uterus, and there’s no fluid I can feel inside them.”  

Darren is nodding, but his gaze is far from focused on the animal or what you’re actually saying to him.  

You pull you hand slowly from the cow, removing the palpation glove and dropping it into the bin beside the cattle crush. “Looks like this girl’s open, I’m afraid,” you say, grabbing the can of cattle paint and spraying a bright green streak across the animal’s tail, “and that’s the last of the girls done.”  

Pulling the release lever, the heifer is let out of the crush and into the holding pen with the rest of the females you’ve checked for pregnancies. While most of them have little blue marks to indicate a successful insemination, a few of the younger ones weren’t lucky enough to take this time around.  

Darren looks as though he’s about to say something further (more than likely something stupid and obnoxious), but before he can do anything more than puff up his chest, Mr. Roberts is snapping at him.  

“Darren! Get your ass into the paddock, boy!” The old man has a scowl on his face that would have recruits shaking in their boots and a voice with a harsh snarl to it from years of smoking. “The hell do I bother paying you for?” he grumbles, watching as the younger man near enough trips over himself in his haste to get back to work.  

Nikto can’t help admiring the man for his no nonsense approach to his work. He’s friendly enough toward those who work for him, and when Nikto was looking for employment, took him on board with no questions asked. The elderly cowboy has made it clear that he could care less about where someone comes from, only that they can do an honest day’s hard work.  

“Well, thank you for giving us a hand with the ladies,” the old man’s tone softens drastically, and he offers you a firm handshake, “I know those big business farms have all that fancy new technology and blood tests to make checking for calves easier, but I much prefer the old method.”  

Although he would never admit it aloud, it’s rather… sweet, the way you beam at Mr. Roberts and nod along to his words. “Of course! A blood test would be useful for determining how long the baby’s been gestating for, but there’s nothing wrong with the palpation method to find out if they’re carrying anything.” 

Roberts seems pleased by your response, offering you an elusive smile, before giving you one final nod, “I’ll see you around town in a few days, and I’ll drop your payment off at the clinic.”  

There are a few final pleasantries exchanged, all of which Nikto ignores. He was supposed to be getting the horse tacked down and set out for the day. Getting distracted by you while doing your job was just an unfortunate happenstance. He urges the gelding onward with a gentle tap to the animal’s side, leaving you to the business of packing up all of your tools in peace.  

He dismounts once reaching the stable, giving the horse a firm pat on the shoulder before leading him into one of the nearest stalls. He can’t know for certain if anyone else will need Murphy before the end of the day, seeing as the horse belongs to Roberts, but the least he can do is ensure he’s comfortable until he’s turned out for the end of the day.  

While “Murphy” isn’t exactly a name that Nikto would have chosen for a horse, given it’s a little too human for his own tastes, apparently, the gelding was named after Murphy’s Law, seeing as the poor animal seems to constantly be getting into trouble. Anything that could possibly go wrong for him can and will. He’s only just recovered from a nasty gash he’d received to the front of his chest after getting a little too excited to see Nikto coming to greet him and crashing directly into a barbed wire fence.  

Nikto starts untacking Murphy, starting with the bridle and moving his way backwards. He gives the gelding a quick brushing down and picks out his hooves to ensure there’s no stones or injuries that’ve gone unnoticed. He leaves Murphy to his dinner while he works on cleaning off the bit of the bridle and applying oil where the leather has begun to dry out. It’s a difficult job with only one properly functioning arm, but he’s not about to ask for any assistance with such a mundane chore.  

When he gets back, however, he’s startled to find you standing there, stroking Murphy’s mane while the horse happily munches on a mouthful of hay. You’re cooing at the animal happily, giggling when Murphy starts trying to nibble at your shirt once running out of food.  

You turn and offer him a smile, face still a little warm from the sun outside and with several strands of your hair poking out in odd directions. He finds that the look suits you, oddly enough.  

It’s only when you call his name that he realises that you’ve been trying to speak to him and he’s just been there staring at your face like a complete idiot. He shifts his grip on the halter he’s holding and clears his throat. “What do you need?” He settles on eventually, deciding that’s the least offensive way of telling you he hasn’t heard a word spoken to him.  

Thankfully, you don’t seem to be too upset by it. “I was just asking how poor Murphy is doing, I know he had a nasty scratch recently,” you’re looking at Nikto, but your words are said in the same, high-pitched coo you tend to use whenever you’re talking to Sputnik, accompanied by a rather overdramatic frown.  

He rolls his eyes at you, but finds he isn’t entirely annoyed by the antics. “Fine. His wound has healed well,” he says while reaching over to try and guide Murphy’s head a little closer. He may not be a trained veterinarian, but Nikto has seen plenty enough injuries in his life to be able to tell when one isn’t healing well. Murphy, of course, decides not to cooperate, instead trying to press the side of his fluffy face up against you.  

Getting the halter over the horse’s head with one hand is rather awkward, especially with the way the animal insists on moving about. You reach out, and he’s about to snap at you for trying to do it for him. He’s had enough of people trying to treat him like an infant recently, as though he’s not a dangerous killer.  It was suffocating enough when it was hospital staff and physiotherapists, but even a civilian thinking he’s too incapable to perform such a simple task? 

But then, you simply grab the buckle in one hand and hold it in position for him to secure himself.  

It would be far faster and more efficient for you to take the halter and do it yourself, yet you stand patiently without comment, and wait as he pulls the strap over the horse’s head and fastens the catch in place. He’s not sure why the thought of you specifically treating him like a weak child had him prepared to lash out quite so aggressively, especially when he’s brushed off similar actions by other people with only a few choice words and a particularly icy glare.  

You return to eagerly cooing at the horse before he can force himself to offer any kind of thanks, and he quickly pushes down the uncomfortable tangle of emotions trying to crawl their way up from his stomach.  

“Are you finished for the day?” You ask after a few moments of silence. He gives you a nod and you’re quick to ask, “how’s your girl been holding up?”  

“Our girl?” he asks slowly, forehead scrunching up. Do you think he has a partner or some kind? Why would you think there’s a girl in his life? Has he done something to make you think he’s married or dating someone?  

“Sputnik,” you clarify, and his face must do something odd because you snort at his reaction. “Why, do you have another girl?” 

Nikto can’t help automatically scoffing at the question, shaking his head at the very thought, “нет, we have no one.” He sees your eyebrows raise slightly, as if surprised by that, but you quickly school your expression back into its normal, carefree smile.  

Your expression quickly turns into something playful, however, as you add, “really? A big, handsome man like you?” He’s not sure how genuine your teasing tone is, “surely you’ve got the ladies lining up.” You have this way of joking around with him and asking questions in a way that doesn’t make him want to immediately tell you to ‘fuck off’. It’s a strange feeling, and he’s not entirely sure he likes it.  

“You are just crazy,” he counters, going to cross his arms over his chest, only to realise he can’t and instead settling for just letting them rest in place. He sees your eyes travel down the length of his damaged arm, stopping at where it abruptly ends. You don't comment on it, however, and he’s annoyed by how glad he is that you don’t. You likely didn’t even notice his injury until now, given he’s been wearing his prosthetic covered by long-sleeved clothes and gloves every other time you’ve met.  

“Wow, so rude,” you grin, trying to playfully shove his shoulder, only to pout when he’s entirely unmoved by the action. He’s been called rude many times in his life, but this is the first time he’s ever found himself pleased to hear it from someone.  

The sound of the stable door opening has you pulling your attention away from him and toward Roberts, who has just entered. You give Murphy a quick pet to the side of the neck, and Nikto a final grin, offering up a brief, “I’ll see you around.” 

Roberts waves as you leave the stables, waiting for the large door to close before he turns to look at Nikto, one of his bushy eyebrows raised. “So, when’re you gonna marry that lovely girl?” The old man asks, leaning against the stall door with an upward twitch of his lips.  

Nikto near enough chokes on thin air, whirling around on the cowboy with a startled, “что?”  

The old man just sighs heavily, shaking his head, “just make sure you do it soon, yeah? We need another vet living out here on a permanent basis,” he ploughs on, “she already knows the area and she’s a lovely young lady.”  

As quickly as he arrived, Roberts wanders off again, heading back to work and leaving Nikto standing in the middle of the horse stall. He takes a long moment, just staring at where the old man had been a few moments ago while his brain slowly processes everything. Surely he wasn’t being serious, right?

-

Translations

“да,” - “Yes” 

"что?” - "What?"

[star-stilinski]

(repost of an old deleted fic!)

why aren’t we talking about this dylan HELLOO??? new girl LITERALLY fed us and none of us are looking.

read pt 2 here!

like imagine this is (normal!universe) stiles, senior year, and he chickened out of asking his dream girl (and one of his best friends) to prom. now, he’s sat in the back of the room sulking as you slow dance with some douchebag who’s feeling you up too enthusiastically.

eventually, he ends the miserable night dragging his feet behind scott, who had the brilliant idea of getting a hotel room. his idea was formed, of course, to be apart of some trashy rager a junior was throwing. stiles was only mildly interested. he’d get to see you, but he’d have to do so with that douche attached to your hip, thinking he was gonna get lucky.

he’s not expecting this, though.

you’re sitting outside one of the rooms at the end of the hall. head in your hands, hair down and messier than before.

he had left scott to get some air (and totally not to look for you. what? he got worried).

“…you okay?”

and when you look up at him, his heart skips. your makeup is all smudged and your hair is a bit messy. teary-eyed, trembling lip. 

you’re the most beautiful girl stiles has ever seen.

“I… I don’t know.” you answer, wiping your nose. he approaches softly and hesitates before sitting next to you. you both stare at an odd looking painting on the hallway wall. 

“stiles.” you hum after a long moment. it’s not a question.

“yeah?”

“do boys think I’m ugly?”

his face screws up, confused and a bit appalled. was this a test? you? ugly? “what?”

“do boys think-“

“yeah, I heard you. what makes you think that?” his tone twists on accident, sounding a bit like he was saying ‘are you stupid?’. he silently curses himself as you sniffle.

“jake wanted to… he asked me… he didn’t ask me, but he started to take off my dress,” you explain quietly, “and I didn’t want to. and he told me that I should because most of the lacrosse guys would never give me a chance and I could stay a virgin for a long time if I didn’t sleep with him.”

it kinda word vomits out of you, but it feels better to say it out loud. more like jake was in the wrong and less like he was right. but part of you wondered still.

when you turn back to stiles, it’s because he hasn’t spoken. and you kind of wish you had just kept looking at the sort of ugly painting because the way stiles looks at you…

it’s like you hung the moon.

lips parted, brows upturned. the glint in his brown eyes from the dim yellow light, the way his bow tie hangs off his neck, the way his chest moves to breathe deeper when your eyes meet. his hands twitch closer, like he wants to hold you, but he doesn’t.

“boys don’t think you’re ugly.”

he’s breathless, you realize. his tone is all lost and whisper-like. his face inches closer to yours and you suck in a silent breath.

“jake is probably one of the most obtuse guys on the planet.” his voice picks up into that silly one he uses to cheer you up. you could hear it from a mile away. “you know he’s failing every class except gym? yeah, even econ. and coach likes him. it takes a whole lot of stupid to get to that point.”

you giggle, but it’s still a laugh full of tears as you pinch the skirt of your prom dress.

“I mean, cmon, look at you. did he rub off on you?” stiles pauses. “wrong choice of words, whoops.”

you laugh again, wiping your eyes. it smudges you mascara worse and stiles dawns a crooked smile. he speaks again, with more confidence than he started with.

“I’m just saying, maybe you’re not as smart as I thought you were. if you’re letting jake get the best of you. seriously.”

stiles lifts his hand to wipe at the mascara, catching a stray tear. his hand leaves your cheek reluctantly after he admires your lips, and he sighs.

“you’re… beautiful. you’re an angel, a princess. you’re what guys dream about when they get sappy and want a picket fence and two dogs and a perfect wife in a sundress. you’re also probably what guys dream about when they want to cum fast.”

your eyes go wide at the last part and stiles wants to bite his tongue off. “I-I just meant, like, the lacrosse guys, they’ve talked about you before… both ways. so you have nothing to-“

“stiles.” you say again, but this time you’re smiling just a bit and stiles thinks he might have just won the lottery ten times and became king of the world.

“mhm?”

“do you think I’m pretty?” and you’re still smiling so you both know what the answer must be.

“you just want me to say it.” he whisperes reluctantly, a pout forming on his lips.

“after the night I’ve had? that would be great.”

“and why would you go make out with another guy and then come out here asking me to confess to you?”

you frown. “maybe you’re the stupid one. I was trying to make you jealous. jake just… didn’t know that.”

stiles looks mildly impressed at that information. “mission accomplished. you know you scare me a little?”

“I know. now is there anything you want to tell me, stilinski?” you scoot closer, smile growing on your face. he laughs, embarrassed, and meets your eyes.

“I think you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, and I want nothing more than to kiss you right now and take you to the nearest Denny’s because I’m pretty sure everything else is closed.”

he’s leaning in, now, waiting for you to close the gap.

“I think I’d like that.” you whisper, leaning in. your noses bump and you both laugh breathlessly before he cups your cheek and meets your eyes, leaning in to press the sweetest kiss to your lips.

so maybe I got a little into this. lay off me, alright?? I’m in the trenches.

…i made a part 2! it's just a lil 'what next', but i really enjoyed writing stiles like this. lmk if you'd like to see more from this vibe of him!

[lihhelsing]

Hate That I Loved You

Now complete on AO3!

Part 1 | Part 2 ↓ | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

On the first day of shoot, Eddie is a nervous wreck. He can't handle it. He won't make it. He stays hidden in his dressing room until Chrissy is pounding at the door and threatening to tear it down if he doesn't come out immediately. 

Eddie doesn't doubt her. 

"It was your idea," Chrissy says as she eyes Eddie and how pale he looks. "Roll a joint, take a fucking shot. I don't care. Just get your ass into the studio because we're filming this today."

Eddie nods but Chrissy is too busy walking away from him to see it. She knows it, though. Eddie wouldn't ignore an order like that. 

The first sequence is with Sean. Sean is taller than him and he used to drive a red convertible that Eddie thought was just the coolest. So that's why he's setting a fucking car on fire for the clip. 

Sean thinks it's hilarious. 

The idea is for them to film the whole song with every one of the exes, so they have options. Because Sean, Pedro and David are all from Los Angeles, they go first. Eddie kept waiting for Lou to show up, but he should know better. Lou always liked to be different, to stand out. He and Steve are pushed to day 2, and for the looks of it, it might be day 3, if they can't speed up David's shoot. Eddie's is breaking a stone wall for him. It's metaphorical and it makes him feel good, actually. 

On day 2, Pedro is the only one around before lunch and Eddie actually have a good time with him. He's funny and sweet, just like Eddie remembered, and he keep calling Eddie 'mi amor' which is endearing in a totally platonic way. For a second, Eddie can't remember why they broke up, but then Pedro gets a call from his mom and everything comes rushing back. 

Pedro was already thinking about marriage and building a family and Eddie wasn't really ready. They are in a backyard with a pretty white picket fence and Eddie throws paint all around. Everything gets stained with black, the color Pedro saw as Eddie's heart color. 

It doesn't hurt as much, but it's harder than the two before him. When Pedro goes back to the dressing rooms to wipe the black paint from him, Eddie's mood had soured considerably.

It gets even worse as Lou walks in, looking like a rockstar. Looking exactly like what he is. 

Lou was Eddie's only famous boyfriend and their relationship had crashed and burned in front of everyone. Eddie feels the tug in his chest as he looks at the scene that's getting built for them. 

It's a stage. The Grammy stage. 

The worst part of it all is that Lou doesn't seem fazed by any of it. It's like he barely remembers breaking Eddie's heart at the Grammy's that year. It's like that was just a day, completely forgotten. 

But Eddie hasn't forgotten about it. He hasn't forgotten how bad he felt that day. How heartbroken. How Lou was trying to make everything be Eddie's fault when he was the one flirting shamelessly with other people in front of him. 

Eddie needs a minute. 

In fact, he feels like he needs a whole year to even be able to do that. What a great fucking idea, put himself through the most traumatic thing in his life for the cameras. No wonder people say he has no self-preservation reflex. 

He just walks away. He knows Chrissy saw him freaking out and he knows she will give him a moment to collect himself so he just keeps on walking past props and music equipment and finally the front door. 

Eddie is out. The cold air hits his face and with trembling hands he reaches inside his pocket just to remeber he doesn't have his joint with him since he's already wearing the outfit for the clip. 

A tux just like the one he wore on the fucking Grammy's. His hands fly to his neck as he pull at the bowtie, trying to get some air into his lungs. His vision gets a little blurry as if there's not enough oxygen in the world for him right now. 

Then big strong hands are pushing his hands aside, circling his neck and unclipping the bow tie. It's a fake one, so Eddie could keep pulling at it and he would get nowhere. 

"Take a deep breath," the voice says and it gives him chills because he knows that voice. He dreams about that voice. 

He does as he's being told because Steve always knew what was best for Eddie. 

"You're ok," Steve says under his breath. His hands fall from Eddie's neck and Eddie wishes they were still there, touching him, grounding him. "Just keep breathing."

Eddie does and things start going back to normal, except there's not a normal scenario where Steve Harrington is just standing there in front of Eddie, looking better than ever, with a frown between his brows because he's worried about Eddie. 

No. That should be impossible with how hard Eddie had fucked things up and still, Steve is really there. 

"I, uh, thought you were only coming in tomorrow," Eddie says when he stops feeling like he's going to die. 

Steve shrugs. "Landed a few hours ago, Chrissy said I could check things out."

After that, Eddie has no clue what to say so he just stares at Steve, dumbly. Much to his relief, Chrissy saves him from looking even more like an idiot by opening the door and calling him back. 

"Uh, thanks for doing that. It really means a lot to me," Eddie says, trying not to sound as pathetic as he feel. Steve smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. 

Eddie wants to say more, he wants to keep talking to Steve. Forget the music video and forget the fact that Lou is standing inside, probably pissed at Eddie, he instantly wants to throw everything away as beg Steve for a second chance. 

By the look on Steve's eyes it's like he can see Eddie's intentions clearly, but then Chrissy is pulling him in and waving at Steve like this is normal. Nothing about this is fucking normal and now Eddie needs to survive Lou if he wants to have a shot at talking to Steve. 

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

"you'd like me to what?" zhongli had been enjoying your company in silence for a spell before you had blurted out a request you wished he would fulfil for you.

"show me how to fight with a polearm." zhongli had not yet divulged the information about him being a god to you, and as far as he knew you hadn't known just how much physical power he possessed. so why ask him?

"may i ask why you've chosen to come to me with this request? i'm afriad i am quite at a loss."

"well, you go out with the traveler on occasion, right? and they're super strong and it's not like you go on leisurely walks among the hilichurl invaded mountains of liyue." before zhongli could even try and rebuttle, you keep going. "and truthfully, if you go out into the rolling hills with the traveler covering you everywhere you go, that makes you look kinda bad you know."

"bad?" his voice pitches and recoils slightly from your words.

"making them do all the work while you sit back and do nothing! that certainly would paint a bad picture if you keep going out there willingly and don't learn. so! you must know something."

"hmm," he hums, wordless agreeing with a small furrow to his brow and a sweat on his neck. though your scenarios were purely hypothetical and very untrue since he does carry his own weight very well, it still wasn't a picture his wanted you to paint of him. "perhaps.. you're correct. but, then why would you request training specific to polearms? could you not ask a local millelith for aid?"

"i could i guess," you deflate and he almost cracks right there. "but hu tao said you were definitely a better choice in regards to what i'm looking for."

zhongli feels a deep sigh in his chest at the mention of the current director. yes, this does have her written all over it. if she wasn't looking into ridiculous ways of promoting the business of death, she was snooping around in zhongli's love life- or lack thereof since you were not his significant other much to her displeasure.

"last i check however, you were already very skilled in other means of combat. why the sudden interest?"

"isn't is a good thing to broaden your horizons? that's what childe said anyways."

you've also convened with childe it seems. lovely.

"you really should disregard anything those two say." his voice is normal as he speaks, but the dryness of it makes you laugh. he wasn't joking, but he smiles at you regardless.

"well, i'm not going to pressure you!" you get the sense that his questions were a very very polite way of stalling you from a rejection. "if you dont want to, childe did offer since he said he's mastered every form of combat aside from archery." zhongli felt his brow twitch.

"i also wouldn't recommend getting too frivolous with childe. kind though he may act, he is still someone to be cautious of."

"because he's a fatui?"

"partially." also because he'll easily vie all of your free time from this point onwards until he leaves liyue if you go to him for training. zhongli wouldn't get to enjoy your company like this anymore if you do run to childe, and that idea alone makes his chest itch. "i accept your request."

his calm agreement makes your face light up and your eyes shine with such excitement he feels antsy. strange how strong the urge to kiss you grows when you look at him like he had just hung the stars.

zhongli is lucky the next time you see childe and tell him that zhongli will be training you with polearms, he's seated up in the higher shops of liyue's red-fenced architecture. the strained, yet begrudging look of disappointment to cross the harbingers face is a perfect appetizer to go with his fresh cup of tea.

as is the smug look zhongli shoots him when childe feels the burning gaze on his skull and looks up once you saunter off. zhongli takes pleasure in knowing he is a being who is and always will be above childe, both in his current fenced in seat above his head and higher status of being. a mere fatui harbinger has nothing on a god, gnosis or no.

zhongli was untouchable by many, in many ways. you however, all you had to do was simply ask and he would do whatever you wished.

besides, he hadn't forgotten what childe tried to do to his nation where all his beloved people and you resided. and his memory, much to childe's misfortune, is very good.

[jtl07]

Writing shenanigans, I love it 👏🏼 I know I’m gonna enjoy this! Okay, here goes: Next week the Paris Olympics starts, yay 👏🏼 Soooo, what if Ava and Beatrice meet at the Olympics? Maybe they compete in the same sports, maybe not. Maybe they just meet at the hotel. Maybe they compete for two different countrys? Hmm… What sports do they play? And for which country? (I could totally see Beatrice be a fencer)

anon hello! you are brilliant, what a timely and perfect shenanigans idea!

part of me wants to make Beatrice compete in judo because i'm biased lol but fencing is also so freaking good ugh Beatrice why do you have to be the character who can do everything™?!? @daskum and i were chatting about breaking being part of the Olympics and now i have that in my head for Ava because wouldn't that be freaking awesome?? like Ava giving all the shade during the 1v1 and pulling out the most incredible tricks? but also having to be meticulous about pain management and overall care of her body, like even more than professional athletes already do. as in: maybe she still went through the car accident but she was able to meet Jillian and get the "halo" and and during recovery, she found breaking and its full body expression.

as for how do they meet … hm different countries could be cool - i actually huh i don't know how the whole Olympic village/housing works? i'm gonna search real quick lol [edit: putting my attempt at a meet-cute under the cut lol]

okay i'm back and lots of ideas from this NYT article (this link bypasses the paywall btw) on the cafeteria in Paris (which, sidenote: food must be so hard to balance for folks from outside of France because man, the change in routine plus the risk of causing discomfort if you eat something that disagrees with you? yikes).

but anyway, i'm loving this idea of them meeting in the cafeteria at this random time like in the article - maybe their first meeting is before they've each competed and there's nerves and inability to sleep (perhaps the time difference doesn't help either) and maybe Beatrice walks into the cafeteria and there's not a lot of people - no one from her team, thankfully, as she's not up for dealing with any of them at the moment. not that she doesn't get along with them, it's just - it's better when she's by herself. safer. easier.

anyway, Bea's in the cafeteria looking for something light and she hears this kinda whoop of joy. curious, she looks over, finds this young woman a few stations down who's utterly entranced with the offerings. she's talking animatedly with the staff person, who seems a little tired but is caught up in this woman's energy, and Beatrice can't help but watch her. she notices that the woman has not one, but two plates full of food, which she carries carefully to the station next to Beatrice. the woman notices Beatrice and gives her a bright grin. "so you figured out the secret too, huh?"

Beatrice blinks at her. "pardon?"

a blush paints over the woman's cheeks and somehow, her grin gets even wider. "that the middle of the night is the best time to visit the cafeteria." she gestures at all the stations. "all this food, just for us."

there's such unfettered joy in this woman's voice, in her face, in her entire body and between that and the lack of sleep and the stress - that oddly seems to be bleeding away with each moment Beatrice is in this woman's presence - Beatrice can't help but laugh. "you're quite wise. though," Beatrice glances at the two plates and the third the woman is now filling with food. "are you actually going to eat all of that?"

Beatrice is gifted with the most affronted look she's ever seen (which is saying something, considering her friendship with Camila and Lilith). "hey i bet your ass if eating was an Olympic sport, i'd have multiple medals by now. the world record board would just be filled with Ava Silva." she punctuates her statement with a rather aggressive bite of bread - after which she pauses, eyes wide. "holy shit that's amazing." she grabs another piece, glances at Beatrice. "you want one too?"

Beatrice flounders for a moment - she'd really only been looking for a cup of tea, but the bread does smell good - "not that I can't finish it, but yknow, we could share?" Ava continues, an inviting smile on her face. it shouldn't be as charming as it is, especially with the bit of crust at the edge of Ava's mouth, but Beatrice finds herself charmed nonetheless.

"okay," she says softly. then, because she's at the Olympics, because she just may have made a friend, she nods, smiles, and says a little more sure: "okay."

[gamebunny-advance]

Kun3h0 Custom Doll Repaint

So, here's what I've been working on for the past month or so. I've wanted to do a custom doll project for a long time now, and I finally got the opportunity to actually do it. I don't think she's bad for a first doll, but there's a lot I feel I could do better and differently.

Once again, my pictures hardly do her any justice... mostly due to color balancing.

I tried to edit these pics to make them a little more accurate, but it also yellowed out everything else, so... yeah. A photographer/image editor I am not.

That said, aside from the poor quality of the images, I'd say that the pics capture both her good points and her jank.

(More about the process and other thoughts under the cut.)

So, she started with a Cave Club doll as the base (I believe her name was Fernessa).

I unfortunately didn't take any pics of this doll with her clothes on, but I'm sure you can search pics of the original base doll yourself.

Besides being very cheap, I really liked the proportions on this doll for Kun3h0. I like the short torso with the long legs and the huge feet. Even the face is kinda Kun3h0-esque (though, a little more on that later).

I've had the idea to customize a Kun3h0 doll for a while, and I always thought the best base would have been an LOL OMG doll since they also have the big head, small torso, and long legs. But, I was always on the fence about them because their hips are a lot wider than Kun3h0's, and I felt like that would always bother me. But once I found out about Cave Club and also found out they're bascially cheap as dirt for the amount of articulation you get, I knew that this was the best match for Kun3h0.

Sadly, the hands aren't as big, and I did consider resculpting them to be more accurate to Kun3h0, but I lack the materials to make that look good enough to be worth doing, so in the end I just repainted the original hands. So I guess this doll is gonna have the non-standard 5-fingers XP. (I forgot to take pics, but the back of the hands do have the heart detail on them. )

Because I have to tie this back to NSR somehow, I think this doll would be a great base for some NSR characters, or really any other stylized character like this. I could def see a cute Mayday coming out of one of these (but not from me~ If I made a Mayday, then I'd want to make a Zuke to go with her, and I just cannot imagine how to make a Zuke doll without him becoming way too top-heavy).

However, I did resculpt the legs to become her boots, so she stands a little taller than the base Cave Club. While I think doing this works for Kun3h0 since she's a robot, if I want to make some alternate outfits for her, they're gonna have to include these boots, or I'm gonna have to get another doll to make some alternate legs.

Unfortunately, my only material I have for body mods is air-dry paper clay, and it doesn't transition as well into the plastic the same way something like apoxie sculpt probably would have. It's not super noticeable at a distance when they're painted, but under scrutiny, you can see a clear transition. I also forgot to detail her heel, so the shoes are flat even though they shouldn't be~ They do help her to stand on her own though, so I guess it's not the worst thing in the world~

While I was doing the sculpting, I also made the wig.

Finding a yarn that would properly convey Kun3h0's hair color is nigh impossible, given the cartoony shading of them, so I settled for a median between the dark rasperry and hot pink and got this regular raspberry yarn. The unaltered pics make it look a little more purple than it actually is. It really is a warm raspberry color.

(I'd say that this is closer to the actual color, maybe a tad darker.)

Let me tell y'all, brushing out yarn wefts is not fun. I also felt like I wasn't doing it right since I lost a lot of material brushing it out. From the little research I did, this seems to be a common problem, but it doesn't sit right with me for so much of it to get wasted like that~

Another challenge I had is that there (of course) aren't very many resources for getting yarn wefts curly or how to make curly hairstyles using yarn wefts. I know that this is relatively easy to achieve with actual doll hair through boil washing, but that wasn't really a viable option for a yarn wig like this. Since I really wanted the hair to look naturally curly as opposed to looking like it was curled after the fact, I curled the hair before gluing it onto the wig cap, which was a mini-nightmare. I followed a video tutorial about how to make a pigtails wig, I just applied the methods to the curly hair.

I don't know if I just didn't make enough wefts to make the tails poofy enough, or if this method just wasn't suited for curly hair, but I just didn't get the volume I was looking for.

To achieve the fuller look that Kun3h0's puffs have, I glued some scrap yarn fluff in the center of the original puffs and just tried to manage the shape from there. It's not perfect, but I think I've more or less brought her original hair to life. It's hard to see since they get lost in the mess of hair, but I was even able to get those stray curls that she has to look nice~

However, for some reason, the wig really doesn't like to stay on. I dunno if it's the ears pushing it off, or if something else makes it loose, but it really doesn't like to stay on her head. I might try applying heat to the cap to see if I can get it to reshape around her head properly, but I don't have high hopes for that.

Overall, having made the wig and seen it in real life, I've confirmed something that I've kinda felt for a while: Kun3h0 really needs something on her head between her antenna. I feel like her antenna and the top of her head create a sort of "empty box" that is just asking to be filled with something. I recently did a drawing of Kun3h0 where I have her an ahoge, and I think it helps a lot.

It's a little too late to add this to the doll (and I don't even know how I'd go about it), but I think from now on, she's gonna have a curl that sticks up on the top of her head.

Moving on: the face.

I really wish I could get some clearer pictures here, because the eyes really aren't as bad as the pics make them look.

While I am trying to keep her right covered as much as possible, I did still paint both of them with acrylics. I don't have MSC or watercolor pencils like most of the pros do, so I made use of what I had. I'm certainly not getting that "crisp lineart" look that Kun3h0 is basically built on, but I don't think the results are horrible. They're sealed with a gloss varnish, so they don't photograph well, but I do like how the texture is very different from the skin, it almost sells that they're made of glass.

As for the other details, I did do the lining in dark purple, like I usually do for her lineart. I'm on the fence on if this works IRL or not. On the one hand, I feel like the purple lineart is a part of the character design, it helps balance out all the pinks, but when I only use the purple on the doll for the face (and her stomach paneling), I do wonder if it looks strange, and if I would have been better off lining her with dark brown instead.

In fact, I did the original sketch with brown for the paneling.

(Right eye not canon.)

But when I made the actual doll, I wound up doing purple anyway to match the eyelashes, so they wouldn't look as out of place.

Other details I wanted to mention are that the upper eyelashes/eyelid is actually a piece of painted foam that I glued on. I really wanted to achieve that cartoony look of how I usually draw the lashes over her hair, even if it doesn't make logical sense.

I wasn't able to do the same thing for the brows, but I still did something a little "special" with them.

Instead of making myself cry trying to get an accurate color-match with paint, her eyebrows are actually flocked using some of the leftover yarn. I've hardly seen anyone do this for a doll repaint, but I don't think this look would suit most brows anyway~

Overall, I'm only a *little* unsatisfied by the face-up, but my disappointment is mostly in the eye-shape. I didn't want to go against the face mold too much, but that meant that I couldn't really make the eye taller like Kun3h0's actually are. If the eye was any taller, the brows would have been right against the hairline, and that wouldn't be a great look IMO. I feel like 80% of Kun3h0's identity is in her face, so having it be even a little inaccurate does bring her down a little.

Lastly, I think all that's left to talk about is clothes and accessories.

I am personally really in love with the shorts and it's why I chose them to be the preview for this project. I added the beltloops after I took that pic, and I think they turned out so cute, even if you can see the stitching of the belt to the shorts.

I went through quite a few patterns trying to get them right. The Cave Club dolls don't seem to be super popular in customizer circles, so there aren't many if any patterns out there for them. At first I was just eyeballing a shorts pattern from this video and going through some trial and error trying to adapt them to the doll's body.

I made 3 or 4 pairs of shorts this way, but they all ended up too tight. In the end, I wound up using the "wrap-and-tape" method of pattern making, and made the shorts from there. I honestly wasn't too confident in the results, so I very haphazardly made the trial pair with this new pattern, but they fit so great that I wound up using the test shorts for the final product.

The top was not as successful. Unlike the shorts, I didn't start making test tops until I'd already done the wrap and tape. So the pattern making wasn't actually the hardest part: it was putting it together that was a nightmare.

While I was making the top, I would of course have Kun3h0 put it on to test the fit, which stretched out the fabric to a noticeable degree. This was one of the last things I worked on, so I was getting really fed up with working on this for so long, so I told myself that I would probably just hide it with paint later.

That was mistake number 1.

As I should have learned from painting Green's face, the paint hardened the fabric tremendously, giving it almost no stretch. Originally the plan was to use velcro to close the top in the back, but the pattern didn't account for the lack of stretch, so it's actually too small to close edge to edge. So, I had to cut velcro to extend beyond the actual clothes to close it up. So basically, there's a gaping hole in the back of her outfit and is the main reason why I refuse to post back pictures of this doll.

For the time being, I do consider this top to be a "prototype" and I'll probably remake it in the future with some improvements. But, painting the fabric after stitching it together is not the only mistake I made.

Since this top is a prototype, there's a lot of other things that I did in a bad order: I really should have done the hemming and put on the accents before putting the pieces together, but since I wasn't sure if the pattern would fit first, and thought I would have the energy to make a second better top, I didn't bother with it. This included the cuffs of the sleeve.

That was mistake number 2.

The way I made the sleeves is that the arms are really just a large trapazoid with the shoulder shape at the top. The idea was that I would just sew the large side to a piece of shorter elastic band which would serve as the cuffs. I figured this would cause the sleeve to look "ballooned" at the end. And it kinda worked. You can kinda see how it turned out on her right sleeve in the first picture, but actually sewing it together was kinda terrible because the only way I could think of to do this was to sew the cuff and sleeve separately first, then sew them together, and that just seems ass-backwards to me, but I couldn't think of any other way to do it, and it came out with the cuff being mostly obscured anyway. I tried a different method on the left sleeve, so the cuff is more visible, but the sleeve shape is worse.

So if/when I remake this top, I'm still gonna do this in my ass-backwards way, I've just got to figure out how to keep the sleeve from eating the cuff.

Otherwise, I think the top would actually be pretty cute. I was really getting tired of working on it at the end, so a lot of the details are actually hot-glued on instead of being sewn. The faux-zipper pull is a *little* large, but it's something I had that I thought would work, and I actually really like the oversized look. It works for the proportions of the doll and helps bring in the heart motif that's getting a little lost in the sloppiness of my painting~

The last thing I think worth talking about is the mini GAB.

I thought I'd taken a pic of it by itself, but I guess not. Anyway, the only thing I wanted to say about it is that there's a little "clip" on the back made from wire that allows it to hook onto Kun3h0's belt and be held in her hand. I dunno, I just really like the little accessories, and that little feature amuses me~

But that's it for now. I am actually working on two other accessories for her:

The doll came with a pet dinosuar that I'm currently turning into her GAB.

It's just about the right size to be in scale with Kun3h0, and the hair is basically already the same as GAB's. I've already modified the base with clay and cut off the bits I don't need. It's mostly a matter of sanding and painting right now. I have no idea how or if I'm going to get the collar onto it without it looking bad, but I'll give it a try. If all else fails, I'll just make a tiny bow-tie like GAB!classic~

I don't have a pic of this one, but the doll also came with some sort of flower pot thing that I'm turning into her drill using a metal piping tip for the drill head~ I'll post about them in an "accessories DLC" when they're both finished.

But wait... if you've made it this far, and you saw my preview post, then you might notice that there's one accessory missing.

Well, this mask doesn't actually fit Kun3h0...

But it does fit someone else.

[missywritesfor7]

❤️‍🩹Lifeline | MYG❤️‍🩹

Synopsis: It’s long been controversial for idols to date, but idols dating each other can be really beautiful or a complete nightmare. When Yoongi's relationship with another idol is discovered, he decides maybe it’s time to break the taboo and show people it’s ok for idols to date. Instead, they find themselves caught in the midst of one media frenzy after another and struggle to keep their relationship as strong as it had been the past 2 years. Yoongi finds a self destructive way to cope, and it causes even more problems than it solves. As they fight for their relationship and their careers, they discover that sometimes, the only way to truly be free is to let go.

Pairing: idol!Yoongi x idol!OC

Warnings: nsfw, alcoholism, cheating, depression, anxiety, Yoongi goes through a bisexy ho phase, Yoongi is also in his alcoholic phase, post-military BTS

Previous chapter | Next chapter | Masterlist

Ch 35: Comeback

The guys hit the ground running as soon as their album is officially released to the world. They have a busy week of promoting which ends with their concert in Seoul. Two days later they’ll be on a flight to New York to kick off the first leg of their tour. Yoongi is excited and buzzing from a constant stream of caffeine. Hyeri is also excited because for the first time since she and Yoongi have been together she can finally attend one of their shows. Before he left for rehearsal he swept her off of her feet and gave her a passionate kiss then bounced out the door looking forward to seeing her face in the crowd later that night.

Before the show, Hyeri meets up with Yoongi’s parents and brother who are in town to see the show. They previously told Yoongi they weren’t sure they’d be able to be there, but with a little help from Hyeri they were able to make it happen. Yoongi has no idea, so their attendance will be a surprise when he finds Hyeri in the crowd and sees the rest of his family there next to her.

Being backstage before the show starts to make Yoongi realize just how much he had been relying on alcohol in the past. He found himself wandering around restlessly trying to figure out what to do with himself. In the past he’d simply have a drink, or a few, and somehow that was enough to pass the time. Now he’s sitting on the couch staring at the wall wondering what brand of paint was used.

“Hyung,” Namjoon says coming over and taking a seat next to Yoongi. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” Yoongi nods. Internally he breathes a sigh of relief thanking Namjoon for coming over and saving him from the standstill of time. “I’m just ready to get out there.”

“Yeah me too. I saw the mic Rainbow got you. You think anyone will notice it’s from her?” Namjoon jokes.

“Not unless you’ve been talking,” Yoongi chuckles.

“Of course not,” Namjoon smiles. “Your secret is safe as long as you want it to be.”

“Right,” he says returning a smile. “I’m not sure how much longer that will be though.”

“What are you thinking?”

“I don’t know,” Yoongi sighs. “One minute I’m ready to tell everything, and the next I’m doubting myself. What if it causes problems for the rest of you? I can’t do anything to cause that.”

“Hyung we’re not kids anymore.” Namjoon looks at Yoongi with empathy. “We’ve dealt with worse and made it through. We want you to be happy, that’s all. If you want to announce it then we’ll support you the same as always.”

“Thanks, leader,” Yoongi chuckles. “What about Hyeri though? I don’t want this to ruin her.”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine too. At this point I don’t think revealing this would be as bad as a lot of the other things that have gone around about her. If you both are really serious then you’ll have to do it eventually, right?”

“I know. She just seems to be on the fence still. One minute she’s excited about finally letting this secret go and the next she seems hesitant like she’s not sure. That’s why I’m so unsure.”

“See how she feels once the tour is over.”

Namjoon knows why Hyeri would be hesitant, the same reason he and the rest of the guys have been silently anxious about the tour. Trust takes time and if the tour goes smoothly without incident then the guys will no doubt feel much more at ease. Namjoon can only guess that Hyeri feels the same. Yoongi may have been clean and faithful so far, but the tour, the world tour will be the real test of Yoongi’s recovery.

Yoongi is no fool, he fully understands why Namjoon suggested he wait until after the tour. Hyeri knows her drama is set to premiere during the tour so she’s using that as her deadline. In her mind she truly wants to be free of this stupid secret that has caused so much heartache and pain, but she needs to feel like she can trust him just a little bit more before she finally throws caution to the wind.

Yoongi has been determined to prove himself since the moment he returned home from his 2 months in the woods. He’s trying to be patient, but it’s getting harder as each day passes. He wants to go out with her and love her openly without having to hide all the time. He typically doesn’t give much of his personal life away to the public, but he loves her so much that he can no longer contain it.

As if he weren’t already feeling impatient, during the first break during the concert that night when they all introduce themselves, he looks up and sees Hyeri. It’s as if she’s glowing like the brightest star in the sky. He’s ready to scream his love through the custom made microphone she gifted him in front of the entire crowd, but then he sees his mom sitting next to her. And his dad. And his brother. He bites his lip trying to remain composed. It’s much too early for him to start crying at the sight of his family in the crowd. His family he didn’t think was coming. His family and Hyeri. Hyeri is his family. His family.

By the time they reach their final ments at the end of the show, he’s about to burst at the seams. During his ment he wanted to tell everyone then, but he was able to refrain. Instead he mentioned that his family is in attendance and gave a very shy yet bold “I love you” to them making the crowd roar with endearment. Hyeri knows that was for her. He rarely expresses his love to his family openly and directly in such a way. Especially not in front of a stadium full of people. She smiles rubbing the necklace he bought her that’s draped around her neck and he smiles back.

The guys finish their last but not last song then head backstage to prepare for their encore set. So far the show has been incredible. Everyone is full of energy from the electric crowd and Yoongi is undoubtedly enthusiastic knowing Hyeri and his family are there. As he watches the screen backstage it seems the camera found Hyeri, and now everyone else in the crowd is just as enthusiastic as he is. She bows and waves shyly at the cheering crowd before the camera cuts to a few other celebrities in attendance. Yoongi has the biggest smile on his face when they make their way back to the stage.

Hyeri enjoyed herself more than she thought she would. This isn’t just her first time getting to see Yoongi in concert, but her first time seeing the whole group in concert. She was impressed and proud of them all, but especially her big brother Namjoon, and completely smitten and swept away by Yoongi. He looked happy and healthy and in his right mind. It’s such a relief for her.

After the show a staff member ushers Hyeri and Yoongi’s family backstage where the guys are greeting their other friends who were in attendance. With so many cameras backstage for various behind the scenes videos, Yoongi silently nods at Hyeri to follow him into another room. He can’t embrace her with so many cameras around, but he can’t contain himself either. He just wants to hug her and kiss her right now. As soon as they enter the room he shuts the door and pulls Hyeri into a close embrace.

“You don’t know how happy I am to see you,” he says giving her a long kiss.

“Your family is here too,” she chuckles returning his kiss.

“You’re my family too,” he smiles. “I’m happy to see all of you.”

“You were great out there. I’m really proud of you, Yoongi.”

“What?” He says suddenly feeling shy. “Why are you being so formal.”

“I’m not,” she laughs. “I guess it’s just habit whenever we’re not at home.”

“Right,” he says feeling that much closer to going out and kissing her in front of every camera and being over and done with this hiding. “How much longer until that changes?” He asks resting his forehead against hers.

“I told you-“

“I know what you told me.” He gives her a desperate kiss. “I know, Hyeri, but this is so hard.”

“You don’t think it’s hard for me too?” She asks returning his desperate kiss with one of her own.

“Sometimes I can’t tell.” He kisses her again and again pushing her backwards with each one until she’s pressed into the table against the wall.

“I need to know I can trust you,” she says linking her arms around his neck and connecting her lips to his once again. “I love you so fucking much,” she exasperates between kisses. “But I need to be able to trust you, Yoongi. That’s the hard part.” At this point she’s having a hard time speaking because they keep taking turns claiming each other’s tongues. The passion that had been building up all night is overflowing and neither of them can seem to stop it.

“I swear,” he says feeling more out of breath now from arousal than he felt during the entire concert. “I will prove you can trust me. I promise. You mean the world to me, I’ll never fuck that up again. I love you so fucking much.” Hyeri isn’t able to respond because their mouths collide once more and remain connected as they taste and feel the familiar newness of each other. His fingers grip her hips and her fingers find their way to his hair and give a light tug.

“I love you too,” she exhales into his mouth before sealing her words with another kiss. He’s got her nearly completely on top of the table and isn’t letting up.

Yoongi is bursting with vigor at the moment. With the great show and his loved ones in attendance, he can’t help himself. His fingers slide their way under her shirt and she sucks in a sharp breath from the chill of his touch on her back.

“Where’s Yoongi?” Someone can be heard asking outside the door. Yoongi and Hyeri slowly disconnect from one another hating the ill timed distraction for pulling them out of their bliss.

“You should go out there,” Hyeri says.

“Yeah I guess so,” he sighs. “Will you be awake when I get home?”

“I’ll make sure of it,” she smiles. “Go talk to your family and give the fans their behind the scenes content.”

“I’ll do that,” he chuckles.

He slowly and reluctantly walks out of the room into the backstage chaos of cameras, staff, guests, and for some reason a ferret. He greets everyone and as the majority of them are occupied, Hyeri slips out of the room and heads for the exit. She briefly makes eye contact with Namjoon across the room and gives him a nod and an apologetic look. She wanted to talk to him and congratulate him on a great show, but there’s far too many people pining for his attention. Namjoon simply nods back with a flash of his dimples and Hyeri takes off for the exit to head home.

Yoongi chatted with his family a bit, took photos for multiple outlets and social posts, and recorded a few group videos for YouTube. Afterwards they all go their separate ways until they meet up again for their flight in a couple of days.

Yoongi is delighted to see Hyeri is still awake just as she said she’d be when he gets home. He quickly washes up and crawls into bed next to her and wraps his arms around her tightly.

“I’m so glad you all came tonight,” Yoongi says kissing Hyeri’s forehead. “You gave me so much energy tonight.”

“Me or the 50 cups of coffee you drank?” She asks. When she returned home there was a package at their doorstep that contained many packs of instant coffee. Yoongi purchased them in bulk to take with him on tour. He completely forgot to mention it to Hyeri but he didn’t think it would be an issue.

“50?” He scoffs. “I only had 4 cups.”

“With how many espresso shots?”

“Irrelevant,” he chuckles.

“Very relevant,” she laughs. “I don’t want your heart to explode or something before you make it back to me.”

“I’m fine.”

“I mean it,” she says tapping his chest. “I’m happy you found something that gives you energy, I just worry about you. Your package was delivered and there’s enough coffee in there to last a year.”

“I want to make sure I don’t run out,” he shrugs.

“Babe,” she chuckles. “Be honest with me.”

“Always.”

“It’s something else, isn’t it?” She softly asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Has coffee…” she hesitates, but if she doesn’t get it out it’s only going to eat at her more once he’s on the road. “Become your new alcohol?” She gently caresses his cheek hoping that her question doesn’t cause him to shut down or feel attacked. “What’s on your mind?”

Yoongi tries to think of an answer, but he doesn’t have one that will keep him from having to admit how afraid he is. The fact that he’s been progressively drinking more and more coffee as a substitute for his previous addiction never crossed his mind, but with Hyeri’s question he immediately realized that’s what he had been doing.

“I’m-“ he hesitates. “I guess I’m scared.”

“Of what?” She asks feeling the pain in his admission.

“Everything. I feel like there’s so much riding on this comeback and tour that it needs to be perfect. My career, my relationships, everything is going to be impacted if I fuck this up and Hyeri I’m so fucking scared of fucking up.”

“How could you fuck up?” She asks. “I know you’re trying your best, I can see that. As long as you keep doing that then there’s no way you can fuck anything up.”

“I feel like I’ll find a way somehow. This tour, it’s…the last one was so bad, I have so much to make up for. To you, the guys, the fans, all of you.”

“But you’re not alone this time,” she says gently. “You don’t have to suffer in silence, we all are here to support you. All you have to do is talk to us. Be honest, babe.”

“You…” his voice gets caught behind the knot forming in his throat.

“I know I let you down last time when I wasn’t speaking to you,” she continues. “And I’ll always be sorry for making you feel alone when you really needed someone. I promise I won’t do that again. But this time will be different because as long as you’re honest with me and I’m honest with you we can still support each other no matter how far apart we are.”

Yoongi nods still unable to make a sound. He feels silly for not talking to her about his fears sooner. He’d only spoken to Minho about these things, but talking to Hyeri and hearing her words of support is exactly the type of reassurance he needs. He pulls her into a tighter embrace and takes a deep breath releasing his anxieties through his exhale.

“I love you so much,” he whispers.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

I think this is the first time since season 10 that I’ve watched the first episode of a Taskmaster season without writing a liveblogging Tumblr post as I went along (in seasons 11-16, I stuck to varying levels of keeping up the liveblogs for the rest of the season, but I always at least did the first one). If I’m very honest, the main reason why I didn’t do it for this one is it’s the first lineup for which there was only person I was really really excited about. The other four I have varying levels of vague opinions about, from “broadly like based on the one time I saw her on Russell Howard’s show” (Sophie), to “quite strongly dislike based on seeing her promote stalking and harassment on Alan Davies’ show, but I guess it was probably just a joke that came off badly” (Joanne) to “never got into League of Gentlemen because the surreal vibe creeped me out a bit and BBC Sherlock put me off Mark Gatiss so I know almost nothing about him”. Oh, and I do actively like Nick, because I am one of the few people who’s found Mr. Swallow funny on Catsdown, but I didn’t much enjoy his Houdini special and Ted Lasso season 3 was so bad that it put me off everyone who had anything to do with it even though obviously it’s not Nick Mohammed’s fault, so those conflicting opinions balance out into a vague “I guess I like that guy”.

Anyway, I didn’t want to write a post that was meant to be liveblogging the whole Taskmaster episode, and have that post be 90% about John Robins, and lay out just how much John Robins was the only one I was really interested in, and I also didn’t want to try to make myself have more of an opinion about the rest of them than I actually did. So no liveblog post this time, I just watched the episode. Once it gets a couple of episodes in I will have an opinion on the rest of them, and then might start the liveblogs again because I will have a slightly more balanced view.

Having said that. I have now watched it and do have some new opinions:

- Sophie Willan: I expected the charmingly naïve chaos, based on that time she was on Russell Howard’s show, that’s exactly how she came across on there and it’s great. Funny and sweet just great fun to watch. I did not, however, expect this extreme level of incompetence. I find an extreme level of anything funny on Taskmaster, and this is no exception. Love that we’re going to have a good old fashioned disaster contestant and it’s been marked out so early. Love that she appears to have no idea what show she’s on. Obsessed with her decision to paint that actual fence even though she definitely saw the blinds.

- Steve Pemberton: The “old man who is far too well established in comedy to need this show” contestant actually trying in the tasks, that’s always a fun surprise. I mean, I enjoy it either way. Frankie Boyle, Alan Davies, Julian Cleary, Ardal O’Hanlon – all those guys stumbling through the tasks with bemusement is fun. But it’s a nice surprise when you get a Lee Mack, a Dara O’Briain, a thing that Steve Pemberton looks to be – an old man who doesn’t need this but decides to actually put significant effort into doing each task properly. The egg train was impressive. The stumble at the end was funny. The good-natured attitude in the studio is amusing. And John Robins being the competent competitive force I’m hoping for won’t be as much fun if there’s not another good player to challenge him.

- Nick Mohammed: That’s exactly what I wanted from him. It’s almost weird to hear him talk in a normal voice, which doesn’t make sense because it’s not like he was using the Mr. Swallow voice on Ted Lasso, but I think on some level, my brain operated under the assumption the Mr. Swallow voice was his “real voice” and he was just putting on a character for Ted Lasso. It is interesting to see him play himself, where it turns out, he’s not that far off from Mr. Swallow’s quirks, just with a lower-pitched voice. I liked the exchanged he had with Greg in this manner. I liked the pragmatic approach to getting hula hoops out of a river. I liked the dynamic with Steve. I liked it when he threw some bricks around.

Joanne McNally: I dislike her a bit. Which is a lot less than how much I disliked her yesterday. This episode has brought me from disliking her a lot to disliking her a bit. She was entertaining. I wish I hadn’t seen that episode of Alan Davies: As Yet Untitled, because it’s sending me into this season with a bias against her that may be too much for her Taskmaster persona, as entertaining as it is, to overcome. I like other comedians who've said worse things than that, because I can put those things in the context of all their other stuff and consider it just one badly judged story. Maybe Taskmaster will give me enough context for McNally to get past it. She was fun. I wanted to be able to enjoy her. But she does still annoy me.

John Robins: Here's an idea. What if I do the opposite of the post this would have been if I'd been liveblogging as I watched and had been honest about where most of my interest was (though that interest broadened out as the episode went along, it only takes a small amount of time at the beginning of a season for me to get to know the unknowns well enough to be interested in them too), and make this a post about everyone except John Robins? I'll just end this post here.

(He crashed a car with an egg and he brought in 19th Century literature and he thought through that live task so strategically and and his drawings were so much better than everyone else's and this is exactly the level of competence I was hoping for and I don't mind waiting a bit for the competitiveness-induced outbursts that I'm sure are coming later, because actually it was equally funny to watch him spend this episode just glaring and biting his tongue (and having his voice crack the way it sometimes does on the radio, it happened right at the beginning of this episode, and you always know we're getting something good out of John Robins when his voice starts cracking) whenever he got annoyed about something going wrong. And is adorable that his buddy Alex got a reference to his big award into the episode, especially in a way that says "You know, technically you're on the level with Steve Pemberton."

(The other reason I didn't do a liveblog this time is I was genuinely embarrassed reading back the one I wrote during s16e01, where I frequently transcribed my internal and/or external monologue verbatim as I was too into the episode to also put an edit between my thoughts and the typed words, and was really into backing Sam Campbell like a sports team and Taskmaster brings out the sports team side of me in general, which is how you had bits of that post with me writing things like "Yes Sammy C coming through" with what I hope any reader would (incorrectly) interpret as irony. It's for the best that I avoided that this time and didn't need to document the number of times the words "Come on Johnny you got this" came out out loud as I was watching him throw hula hoops at things. I have never referred to him by that name before, it's just the automatic sports-ifying of people's names that happens when you watch them like a sports team. I'm pretty sure words in parentheses don't count towards a post, so this one actually ended when I said it did two paragraphs ago.)

[sofiiel]

𝐂𝐡.𝟏: 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝐓𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 | 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭

CW: Fluff. Mentions of loss. Mentions of deceased family. | Word Count: 1,570

It's a chilly spring afternoon, the sun reaching its amber rays out to break the chill. The old tire swing under Poppy the giant oak tree creaked as it swayed in the breeze.

You inhale the sweet fragrant honeysuckle as you make your way through your front lawn. Towing a little rainbow-painted wagon behind you, you trudge up the mild slope, circled by wagging tails.

"I'm back Skip, Kip. Sorry I don't have treats today ladies," You greet your two collies as they eye the colorful wagon.

Walking towards that old house somehow never lost its magic. As your grandmother used to say:

"Like a giant plucked it from a fairy tale, and it tumbled out his pockets, right here in Hawkins."

A small smile graced your face even as sadness filled your eyes.

"I miss you." You murmured, the loss still fresh.

The barking of your dogs faded into the distance.

Henry the ornery rooster doodled from somewhere on your property.

Leaving the wagon at the base of the steps, you enter your cottage, it is unusually quiet. Bea wasn't playing the piano, which only meant one thing,

"She's gone off into the fields again." You sighed.

It wasn't a bad thing, Bea's adventures into the Sunflower fields and the grass pastures with her sketchbook was better than her hiding under her bed.

"I just wish she'd remember to take one of the dogs." You murmur.

After all, it was well known that Hawkins could be an odd and scary place for children.

Without your little helper, you were left alone to bring the groceries and art supplies inside.

Eddie stepped out the back of his van his hair tousled and one sock missing. With a wide yawn that made his jack pop and eyes water, he stretched his arms up to the sky.

He rubbed his chest groggily as he took in his surroundings.

"This old place works perfectly." He muttered to himself.

"Easy to find but not really looked for." He thought.

Nancy wouldn't have any trouble locating him here and the police would never expect he was so close.

Eddie gazed out at the rows of sunflowers, "I hope Wheeler is right about all this." he thought.

The idea of no longer having to wander like a migratory bird after so many years seemed unfathomable. However, it was closer than it felt.

It would be a few hours before anyone would come by to talk to him., "And there is no way I'm setting foot in town." He thought.

Eddie's stomach growled, last night's gas station burritos had already burned away.

His eyes wandered to the tilted wooden fence in the distance. If he remembered right, there was a garden just a short walk past it.

Getting back into his van, Eddie buckled up and navigated across the grassy terrain, through the collapsed section of fence.

Unbeknownst to him, in the distance a small figure popped her head out of the sunflower stalks.

The colorful plastic barrettes at the end of Bea's braids clanked together as she looked around. Her curious eyes slowly take in the surrounding area.

She could have sworn she'd heard a car.

Though nothing was there, and not a sound echoed besides the rustle of trees and the saying of the flowers. Rushing back to her sketchbook nestled on the ground, Bea picked it up and hurried back home.

"Titi should be back by now." Bea thought, sprinting through the fields, taking the shortcut back home.

Kip barked happily as the screen door opened and shut. As the gentle gust of wind entered, so too did the smell of sunflowers.

"Titi, I'm back!" Bea's voice echoed through the home.

You stopped rolling the dough before you and stood up tall, already regretting the snap decision to make homemade pie.

"In the kitchen Bea!" You called out.

You could hear little feat bounding towards you.

Bea came to a halt, her eyes smiling even when her mouth did not as they landed on the wide flat circle on the counter.

"Is that?" she asked hopefully.

You gave a nod, "Strawberry pie. But you'll need to go pick them. It's already late in the after noon-"

Before you could finish Bea slapped her sketchbook on the table and flew out the kitchen door.

Left wide-eyed, you watched her bound across the yard, her figure getting smaller the farther she ran. A laugh bubbled from your throat as she vanished through the fruit tree hedge line.

"I've never known anyone who likes Strawberry pie as much as you do." You muttered with Bea in mind.

Now you had little choice but to follow through with baking.

You dust the dough with flower one more time and give it one last press with the rolling pin before tucking it into the pie pan.

The radio buzzed softly, it was nearly impossible to get good reception out here. Bits of music snuck in between the static often enough to make it bearable.

You hum along to what you can hear, the broadcast comes to an end and the crackling words of the radio host announce,

"It's the tenth anniversary of the great 86' Quake, taking calls from those who remember, right after this song. Got some Danger Zone for you-"

You sighed and tuned the radio out, shutting out the pang of guilt bubbling up in your stomach.

Right on time, the kitchen door flung open. Bea stood huffing and puffing with a bucket full of strawberries, but she didn't seem happy.

"What's wrong?" You questioned, taking in her frown.

"The bushes weren't very full..." Bea sulked.

"But you brought back plenty." you reasoned.

Bea shook her head, "I like extra stuffed Strawberry pie." she murmured.

Those berry bushes had been around for five generations. You face twisted in mild dismay the more you thought about it, "It is odd that this is all they had." you thought.

From bushes that usually filled two metal washbasins to overflowing, this was odd.

"The branches were a bit broken too," said Bea.

She set the bucket on the sink and took up her step stool to wash the berries.

"Broken branches?" You asked.

Bea nodded, "Yeah, like a bear wanted a snack." she said.

"We don't have bears out here Bea." You chuckle.

"We could!" Bea protested, "I bet it's a friendly bear, we can leave it snacks so it won't tear up the bushes."

"Bea, you shouldn't feed wild animals." You reasoned.

"He's eating the berries anyway." she shrugged.

You sighed, maybe Bea had read too many of your old fairytale books.

"We could name it-" Bea lulled her eyes glinting with mischief.

"Don't-"

"Beary" Bea giggled.

You sighed, "Oh god, you got Grandma's bad joke disease."

Bea however giggled with pride, "GeeGee had good jokes!" she cheered.

"No they were awful, and I am afraid, there is no cure." You teased.

"I would not want a cure! If there was one, I'd go and sit by her grave until I caught it again." Bea stated proudly.

You paused and smiled, looking over your shoulder to find a rare grin on your niece's face.

"Let her have those awful jokes. Today seems to be a very good day." you think.

Eddie with his van parked under the shade of a tree, sat in the back of his van, nestled within piles of blankets. Laying on his back his hair hung down the bumper as he watched the light freckle through the leaves.

He loved this place, there was something about the air out here. A part of home that didn't cause the past to prickle at him.

Eddie tossed a small strawberry in the air and caught it in his mouth.

They still tasted the same, "Like the ones old lady Anita used to sell." Eddie murmured. He could see the old woman's face, she'd used to give Wayne a small basket of them for free as payment for fixing things at the old cottage.

Eddie wiggled his feet, remembering a few times he'd helped out in his uncle's place.

He couldn't help but wonder what happened to Anita's three grandkids.

Eddie chuckled as he remembered the summer he'd caught the oldest and middle having a water fight with buckets in the summer of '84.

Eddie's memory took him back further, to a time when he was much smaller and his hair was little more than a curly puff on the top of his head.

Running around the Sunflower fields with his friends, pretending to leave gifts for the sunflower fairy, in return for those very same strawberries.

Some days, he still regretted never going to say hello.

Eddie popped another strawberry in his mouth. The place was overgrown now with large lush trees and bushes. He hadn't lingered on the property long, just enough to grab some berries.

He'd heard about Anita's death through letters with Jeff.

Eddie frowned and sighed, "Wonder who's taking care of the old place now?" he pondered.

At least the outskirts of the property served as a quiet place to law low and ride out his time.

"Wheeler better be right this time." Eddie murmured.

"I'm sick of hiding." He sighed.

Still, his feet wiggled as he shoved a handful of strawberries into his mouth. Camping out in his van wouldn't be so terrible if he had an endless supply of these.

𝐓𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 | 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭

[iantimony]

2023 year in review roundup

wow!! what a fucking year!!! goodbye and good riddance! happy first day of 2024!

this year i did 37 tuesdayposts! there were 53 tuesdays so that's about 70%! some of them were on fri/sat instead as shabbosposts but i think posting on tuesday or even monday does just work better for some fucking reason. maybe because friday and saturday are days that i am most likely to do New Activities for making/playing/watching/reading??? and so on monday or tuesday i can recap the just-finished weekend. shrug! we love tuesday so it's fine.

listening listened to all of twilight mirage and a little over half of partizan! shrieking shack podcast, just king things, well there's your problem, miscellaneous music (maneskin probably a notable winner in there)

reading a lot of little articles. a little tgcf. SO much fanfic. 'every heart a doorway' (bad). 'birthday of the world' le guin (good).

playing a little disco elysium. a little minecraft. a little nier automata. a little hadesgame. a LOT of pokemon go. and i got into magic the gathering this year!

watching a lot of youtube videos. so many gd youtube videos. evangelion, history of the world part ii, cunk on earth, vox machina animated series, cowboy bebop, first season of peaky blinders, the new tgcf donghua season!

making i did very little drawing/painting/illustration beyond life drawing a few times...however i was very prolific in crafting! i also theoretically made valentines gifts. i do not remember what they were tho lol.

fiber arts: i completed a big embroidery project (fermenting dregs album art hoodie), quantum shawl, mesh market bag, case for my knew laptop, finished that blue tank top even though i hate it, fixed the lining on my yellow knitted cowl, made a little knitted headphone top cover that i will probably redo differently, headband ear warmer for my roommate's mom, and FINALLY i just barely finished the scarf for my SO before the end of 2023!

print block carving: wristwatch print, gavelbocken holiday card print

misc/writing: some songxuexiao fencing au. some harrowhark abhorsen au. neocities website!

and so much pottery! this is all of it, barring the things i already gave away as presents before this photo (two pots and a little box and the little raven guy), but wow! that's so many fuckin object!

misc what a fucking year. some bad! had to file a big car insurance claim! got really sick while abroad and that persisted for a long fucking time! mini summer breakdown! some good stuff too - passed quantum mechanics FOREVER good fucking bye, did my first successful academic conference, finally started feeling better around the end of the year! learned my lesson: it's not fuckin worth stressing yourself to death over, and also i can't just Be At Home Aimlessly for months any more. it's bad for my mental health.

reviewing 2023 resolutions and goals --> I’d love to start writing again and play more horn but we’ll see i basically didn't do any creative writing at all this year barring a few lines of fanfic ideas (the abhorsen/tlt crossover one) HOWEVER i READ a lot of fanfic to marinate in and i played a LOT more french horn!! i joined the little youth orchestra which is like, uber goofy, but it means ive been playing on a regular basis again!

--> I also wanna listen to more weird music, and invest in actually owning some files, especially for some of the lesser-known bands and through bandcamp and stuff i spent all year meaning to do this and kept pushing it off so it rolls over into next year.

--> I really want to kind of dial those [unhealthy coping mechanisms] back again, focus more on existing in Reality and more in each moment, which hopefully will also help with some of the skin picking and other anxious habits that resurfaced. maybe more yoga, maybe re-establishing a meditation process lol lmao. nah. but definitely rolling it over into 2024.

--> I would love to think more about my fashion and how I present myself too, and work on making and tailoring more of my clothing in general actually not bad! basically zero tailoring but i did a pretty good job wearing some cute outfits.

--> I’ve been pretty good about being active so I’d like to keep that up, I still can’t do a pull-up but maybe this is the year! (lol) I should also start doing some minor exercises for my shitty arthritis toes to keep those okay once again: lol lmao. health issues had me really regress in some of my gains goals. plus side is toes are doin pretty normal.

--> a lot of last year was kind of a wash regarding research so I’m really looking forward to refocusing on that and really getting things moving. oh it moved! in a good way! i'm making good progress and hopefully i will keep that momentum going!

--> finally! I want to get back to tabletop! I miss doing it so much! it fell by the wayside for me because of how busy and overwhelmed I was, especially this past fall semester, but I want to start running and playing games with my pals again a little! i should have been putting these in playing as i went oops. the tabletop group i've run was a little fallow this year due to at least half of our group, including myself, not being in Tabletop Mood but we've played a lot of res arcana and other such games instead.

i had a few other resolutions in my digital planner on my ipad that didn't go in the writeup last year: namely, practice languages more (i did practice my mandarin a little but did not really learn any hebrew or korean unfortunately) and establish a non-software component of my research (nope, not in the cards, but i'm hoping to do something else this summer to let me get better with physical data/setups), and finishing the masters degree requirements (that will be the end of this upcoming spring semester), but overall i really did hit most of my resolutions and goals! even with being ill for a while! (except the finances. i am simply not looking at them <3)

2024 resolutions and goals

definitely some rollover! i will format this to hopefully be a little easier to respond to next year:

- get back on a regular workout schedule: swimming 1x a week, weights once or twice a week. would like to try and work towards my One Pullup goal again. would also be cool to try and work towards a hand/headstand. - try and be more mindful. i'm going to continue the grief therapy but also think about meditating more, doing more yoga, and so on. - there's a gallery on main street that solicits work from local artists for bimonthy themed exhibitions and i really want to submit at least one thing to it this year! the one due by end of january is themed 'florals', and the one two months after that is 'layers', so i'd really like to submit something to one of those. - more weird art! use that big canvas i bought in literally 2022! paint!!! - finally put together that travel journal from korea & japan (and also scrapbook-ify the papers i have leftover in a pile from that) - also, maybe do current scrapbook a little different? might need a new binder at the very least. - hang up that expensive quilt i bought in august - speaking of quilt: do some hand quilting, english paper piercing! i have so much fucking fabric! - find a new apartment to move into that hopefully won't suck! - try to secure some sort of summer internship or project that will let me develop some new skillsets that i might not be getting with my current research - finish the masters degree - write...a paper? for the work i just presented??? - keep tweaking neocities and make some more pages - keep track of recipes this year as well in my making section

i might start a little spreadsheet this year to keep better track of all my stuff because i really did Not want to go through all my separate listening and reading sections and extract what i liked the most, etc. this post required me to first back up a few extra early tuesdayposts from this year to dreamwidth, and then skim all of them to accumulate the above, and that was kinda a pain. and i love an excuse to start a new spreadsheet.

we did it! happy 2024! i don't think i have anything else to add to this wrapup but if i think of something i'll tack it into the upcoming Normal Tuesdaypost tomorrow! good job good night and good luck everyone!

[soupbabe]

Can I get an assortment of the Dano characters you write for with a s/o that loves to garden? Or a s/o that enjoys painting/sketching them? (I wanted to send you a request but I'm so bad at requests EEK SORRY!)

Gardening with Paul Dano Characters

Featuring: Louis Ives, Jay, Eli Sunday, Hank Thompson

T33TH HI!! I loved your idea and I think it's a cute prompt for the warmer months!! Tbh I just used this to write some of my favs + get some practice in writing some characters I barely written for! <33

Eli Sunday

- I think he would help you create a garden, whether for extra money or just for you to enjoy

- Don't exactly rely on him to do a lot of hard work though

- Sure Eli will provide the supplies and everything you need throughout the day

- but after you're done planting, he would want you to pray with him for a bountiful garden, for rain to come and bless your crops, and then that's it

- Would go on about how "we're" making great things together and how it's wonderful that you both are giving back to God's Earth

- Even though all he didn't do anything and you had to cater to the garden throughout the entire season

- Don't bring it up he'll deny it

Hank Thompson

- Hank just loves watching you garden

- He doesn't know a thing about gardening, he doesn't understand how you keep everything alive, but he is so enamored by it all

- I think he likes gifting you random seeds and house plants he thought you'd like

- Okay okay hear me out: Hank would totally love crafting those native wildflower seed bombs that are made out of mud and stuff

- He loves getting messy!! He loves spending time with you and playing with mud!!

- While it's not a traditional way of gardening, I think it could be fun night out if you and Hank went around throwing the seed packed balls into people's lawns and random patches of grass

- Then a couple weeks later, you two can go on a walk and admire your work!!

Jay

- He's so adamant about gardening, he has the greenest thumb out of the bunch

- Jay is sweet he probably has matching sunhats for the both of you

- All of his food comes from his own vegetable garden and he's so so proud of what you both accomplished together

- Even if there's wonky looking and small veggies, it happens sometimes and it doesn't deter Jay

- And if you love planting various flowers and plants? Oh he's just as in love!

- While it may not be your intention, he loves what you're doing for the local pollinators <33

- If you two had your own home I could guarantee that it just looks like a giant greenhouse. House plants everywhere.

Louis Ives

- Oh she admires your hobby so much!!

- She thinks about starting a garden of her own, planting strawberries or keeping a few succulents around all the time

- But honestly she just doesn't have a whole lot of time, so she just sticks to reading a whole bunch around it

- Yeah she's the kind of girl to think too much about flowers and it's meanings and she gives you them to show her love

- Please let her garden with you, teach her the basics of rooting and how to fence off wild animals and insects please she is begging

- Fun dates at the nursery !! Her being amazed at all the different kinds of plants and it's just an afternoon of ooo-ing and awe-ing

- Once she grows something and it blooms/ripens, she's so excited! She's sending you pictures asking if she did it right and immediately wants to gift them to you!

[outpost51]

Happy WBW! What are the customs around being invited to someone's house in the world of your WIP? (Is it rude for me to bring a gift? Do I have to take my shoes off before going inside? Things like that!)

NOPAL!!! be normal be normal be normal be normal be norm-- I AM SO GLAD YOU ASKED.

[encyclopedia falls through the cut]

ah, shit.

SO, let's go through the aliens i've built so far in Xatal:

**note: these are planetside, traditional living arrangements. when in doubt, ask your host!

Cazen:

Call when you reach the outer bounds of your host's territory -- this is usually marked in some way by a small fence, a garden, or painted rocks. It's polite to announce yourself before the proximity alarm does (so the proximity alarm can be turned off), especially if there are pups napping.

If you're invited over for a meal, make sure your host knows about any special dietary needs before the day of your visit; cazen are accustomed and adapted to living in resource-scarce areas, which means there isn't typically an alternative available, and it's both rude and distressing to invite someone over for a meal and be unable to feed them.

On that note, if you are invited over for a visit, but no meal is mentioned, do not assume you are going to be fed. Resources may be scarce, or as Cazen like to stick with small groups, your host may simply want to catch up for a short period, and then have their house empty of company. You may be asked to stay longer -- there is no social consequence for accepting or turning down this offer.

While not required, if you can spare the credits, you'll get bonus points for asking if your host needs anything from the market/grocer/trader -- even if you're going out of your way to help, it's polite to frame it as if you were "going there anyway."

Uknuks:

Have you been vetted by the patriarch? You're welcome any time. You don't even need to call -- you might not have a "traditional sit-down-and-eat" type of visit, but for an uknuk, spending time together is spending time together. They follow the “friend of my friend is my friend” rule, though, so you may be invited to dinner at a random dwelling. Enjoy!

Bring. A. Gift. It doesn't matter if it's your first time there or your hundredth time. It should be something practical (like tools, nice throw blankets, etc) or food/drinks. Crop seedlings are also accepted, but ask first to make sure they can grow in your hosts' climate, there is room for them in the communal garden, and that they are attractive to local pollinators!! Bonus points for asking what they need, double bonus if you bring something that contributes to the community!

If you're asked to help, you help. The community won't take advantage of someone, and they'll accommodate disabilities and limitations! Usually, if you're taller than 3'... you're on "high" shelf duty.

Don't pick up the uknuks. Don't do it. Unless you're adopted family or a crewmate. And then bully (affectionate) your uknuk "siblings" relentlessly. The kids might try to climb you, though, and in that case, enjoy your armload of fuzzy little babies.

Sodai:

You will be handed the bread vessel. SMASH THE VESSEL. DO IT. There's a round stone on the table. Hold it with both hands, flat side towards the table, and drive it straight down onto the stone. There will be a ruckus. Feel free to scream along.

If you cook bone-in meat close to your visit, save the bones and bring them along! You don't really have to do anything with them either, just shove 'em in a clean bag!

There will probably be fermented meat on the table. You don't have to eat it (you might not even be able to), but try not to make a face.

Post-meal preening and naps are customary! You can turn down the preening, but I guarantee that meal will put you right to sleep!

Ix'ai:

If it's just dinner, you'll be dining out -- research the place you're going to. Follow the dress code, don't over/underdress, look over the menu and have an idea what you're ordering before you go. Your behavior and appearance reflects on your host! No pressure LOL! Forget to look at the menu? Be honest, and ask your host what they recommend 😌 problem solved!

Holiday? Get ready to meet your host's entire family. You will be dubbed gazagaza at the door and held to the same standard as the rest of "the kids." It's fine, you're probably getting a crash course on the ride over -- no, you're not driving yourself there!

Unless asked, don't bring anything but yourself. It implies that the family cannot provide for themselves, and that they're doing so poorly they can't provide for you as well. If asked, it will be a bottle of mid- to top-shelf liquor or a specific wine -- this is for the owner of the house, who your host will introduce you to. This bottle will be opened and served at dinner.

For the love of all that is good and right in the world, do not remove your shoes. Everyone will probably be outside anyway, unless the weather is bad.

Zal:

Ix'ai etiquette on steroids. If you're invited out, you'll be picked up at a specific time (do NOT be late). Ask your host for a meal recommendation and don't offer to pay -- communicate when plans are made that you want to pay for yourself, otherwise just let your buddy spoil you.

If you're invited over, it's a date (romantic or platonic). That's an intimate friends activity! Tell your host they have a beautiful home, remove your shoes if asked (usually dependent on the weather, it's all about keeping the floors clean!), enjoy the tour and the candlelit dinner. It's going to be over the top. Zal like their ceremony!

Don't bring a gift unless you're courting. Bringing a gift is an expression of courting. Yes, even a bag of chips.

As for Other Etiquette:

When visiting someone on a station:

DO ask which dock to use (yes, this goes for public transport as well).

DON'T assume your host is paying for your docking fees or taxi fare, but DO communicate about it ahead of time.

DO offer to bring along a snack or something they can't usually get on the station!

When invited onto someone's ship:

DO greet the captain, if they're not the person who invited you!

DON'T wear strong scents! You're in an enclosed, filtered space!

DON'T bring large gifts, or anything with non-recyclable packaging.

When invited to Eir Terminal, specifically:

If Bax requests your presence, you go right away. You will probably have to wait when you get there, but the important thing is that you are on time.

[vermutandherring]

I read ‘Carmilla’ by Le Fanu and am already on my way to Stoker’s ‘Dracula’. Next, I want to make a short cycle of video games about vampires. By the way, it was the vampire game that introduced me to ‘Barry Lyndon’. Wanted to make sure what happened to the Prince Sebastian LaCroix in ‘Vampires the Masquerade – Bloodlines’ so I checked about other game ending. Wiki says that his character was drawn from Lord Bullingdon - one of the characters in Kubrick's drama. I was wondering if there was any parallel between these characters, so I watched the movie. In general, I don't really like movies and rarely watch them. However, Barry Lyndon is worth your attention if you like all things historical, with harpsichords, wide dresses and languid glances of ladies. Lady Honoria Lyndon will probably remain my favorite character for a long time. Just look at her big and sad eyes. Marisa Berenson (the actress) seems to have stepped out of Gainsborough's canvas. So I tried to recreate her in The Sims 4.

Film critic Roger Ebert recognized this film as one of the most beautiful films in history. The same Roger Ebert, who assured that games will never be art (being honest to the end, he later changed his opinion a little). If I recreate Lady Honoria in a game from a work that is art, is it still art or just a parody of it? In his article, Mr. Ebert goes to great lengths to prove why games are not cool. He gives his expert counterargument to every statement, and his tenacity makes you want to start jumping out of your pants to prove your point (even though he has already rested in peace and is unlikely to hear us). I also did it, especially when I was writing my diploma. But it is unlikely that we all will get anything constructive, because Mr. Ebert operates with the history of art and his huge professional experience. And we are just *pathetic players* playing our silly games, as in the first picture from his article.

At one time, trying to mentally argue with Roger Ebert led me to an existential crisis. And really, why is it important to me that games are recognized as art? Am I too passionate about the idea of something high and beautiful, or am I just looking for an excuse for why I play? Regardless, I'm sure whether you consider games to be an art form or not, if you're enjoying them, that's a good thing. You don't need an excuse to play, because if you're looking for an excuse to fence yourself off in your own eyes, maybe you have some serious problems, why you're replacing reality with games (for me it was depression that I had to treat).

I know it all sounds messy, but it's just a thought for the night. By the way, there is no connection between the characters of Prince LaCroix and Lord Bullingdon. Perhaps the fact is that both to some extent wanted to return what belonged to them. Fortunately or unfortunately, LaCroix failed to do so.

Game: The Sims 4

Screenshots credits: • The Queens of Persia at the Feet of Alexander Painting by @thejim07 • 1780s hair by @simsfromthepast • Necklace by @acanthus-sims • Dress by @regina-raven

[kiron1yuma]

Why I consider Murcoy to be semi canon (the somewhat essay,, except I can’t write essays for the life of me and there maybe some points that just don’t make sense at all and also as well one of these is literally just a theory):

Coyote is always staring at Murch, and according to some random ass website that probably isn’t even a valid source and makes no sense at all,, staring at someone for a prolonged time means u have a crush on them, therefore it means he likeies likes Murch. :3

When Murch was speaking to Coyote down in the old ass basement, it sounded like (well, in my opinion at least) he was happy to speak to him again, indicating he may of missed Coyote. While u could consider this to be like a friend type of miss,, it feels more then that to me.

In the original night 1, after Coyote tells his average anime protag type sob backstory, Murch showed empathy for Coyote and apologised for bringing anything up. While, that could just be called common sense, I call it fruity lma.

In the yeti event introduction (p1), Coyote asks about Val in a very salty tone to which Murch semi explains who she is and all that yeti stuff, but, to me. It seemed as though Coyote was jealous of Val. But why and of what? Who knows, but yeah. (Probably thinks Val is trying to steal him away or sum idk)

In part 2 of the yeti event, when Murch and Commander were arguing, Coyote took a moment to ask Murch what Commander was on about, but, his voice sounded like it was in denial. As if he painted in his mind that Murch would never do anything wrong and that everything he does,, he has an idea of what he’s doing. What does he think of him? I dunno, but it’s clearly something positive.

With Cryo Coyote’s and Cryo Murchs jackets, you can see they look heavily similar. Like they both got the fluffy shoulders. Just a theory, but what if that blue jacket Cryo Coyotes wearing actually belongs to Murch? Like, maybe he gave it to Coyote since it reminded him of him…And also with the headgear (the goggles thingy as well that Cryo Coyote wears.) looks like something Murch would wear as well sooooo…

(Or maybe Coyote robbed Murch’s wardrobe since he basically has nothing to wear.) In the second story mode teaser that’s on aurek teams yt,, while u can’t exactly see Coyote, it’s confirmed that he’s the guy that’s filming things all through out the trailers.

Main point uh,, so u can see he’s filming Murch behind a fence. Why would he need to film him behind there? Idk maybe he’s planning on flexing to the deepnight (the thing that started it) that he’s stronger then them or sum like I’m just imaging it like:

“You’ll never beat us.”

“Nuhuh we will”

“Where’s your proof?”

“Right here”

*and then Coyote just shows them him filming Murch shooting into the cabin*

Or maybe he’s making a cool ass movie. (He was in the before the dawn timeline after all.)

…

Or he has other plans on what he’s going to do with that?

Or maybe he’s shy.

Who knows?

BEST ESSAY I HAVE EVER READ MORE PPL SHOULD SEE THIS ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥