#(This is after I wrote all the tags

[tawnysoup]

the fritter (frin critter)

[thelilylav]

You’d have to stop the world just to stop the feeling

Good luck, babe….

ref:

[shalom-iamcominghome]

I am absolutely begging people to stop treating nazism as their big, bad blorbo caricature they can just invoke when they're mildly irritated about people who (they think) have Bad Opinions.

Nazism is not just "any time a Bad Guy does Bad Things." Nazism is not your final jojo stand you can invoke to win discussions or debates. It is a real life ideology that is intrinsically linked to the radical antisemitism it espouses and ignoring that is fundamentally harmful to the point of being radically antisemetic.

Since this is on-topic, I've been reading People Love Dead Jews (I am on chapter two), and I think downplaying nazism is absolutely part of de-emphasizing and reprioritizing antisemitism to make it about everything else but the antisemitism. When nazism is everything, then it can't be fundamentally antisemetic. You won't have to acknowledge that jews are the primary target of nazis and nazism if nazis are everything else. It's not a coincidence, especially seeing how many jews people call nazis. This is part of the dead jew that people love - if your eye is turned away from the fact that jews both exist still and are affected by violence and oppression, you get to say, "the jew is dead!".

Regardless, you will never live in a world without us**

עם ישראל חי

[cheswirls]

short asl thing based on @where-does-the-heart-lie's modern au :) i started this over a year ago but the beginning is all dialogue and felt more like a script to me i suppose??? which deflated my desire to work on it. anyway i checked it over recently and it's completely fine lmfao, self-confidence restored here we go !

-

"Yo. Aren't you usually in the middle of your shift by now?"

"I've been banned from the hospital."

"Like, for life?"

"No. For the next, uh.. Twenty-two hours."

"That's oddly specific."

"It was twenty-four, but I fell asleep after leaving the building."

"That wouldn't have to do with why they kicked you out, at all?"

"Hmmm. I'm too sleep-deprived, apparently."

"Ah. And, um, you called me because...?"

"I pressed a random number in my call log after waking up. Lucky you, I guess."

"Yeah. Right. Lucky me. And your car keys are...?"

"Confiscated."

"Ah, right, of course."

A beat of silence. Two. Three, then "Look, if you're busy, then–"

"No, no.  You called me, so I'll be there. Give me twenty minutes."

"Alright. Thank–"

"Thank someone else. Also, if you fall asleep in my car, I'm taking it as express permission to drive you around wherever I want."

"Ugh, go die. I don't even know why I bothered."

"LUCKY YOU, I guess," sounds off way too loudly in his ear. "No take backs. See you in ten."

"I thought you said–" Sabo breaks off as the call ends, leaving him staring blankly at his phone's too-dim screen. He squints, turns the brightness all the way up, and still squints as the sunlight proves too strong for the display.

Ace shows up in more than ten but decidedly less than twenty minutes. Sabo doesn't waste much brain power on it, only climbing into the passenger seat and yawning into his palm while his other hand fixes the seatbelt into the buckle. Not a second too soon, too, as Ace roars the engine to life and peels away from the curb at record speed.

Ace fiddles with the radio. He turns the music up, then dial it back down to inaudible. They hit the expressway and he leans over the steering wheel, frowning with his eyes fixed on the road far ahead. Sabo yawns again and this appears to be the limit to his patience. 

"Hey, so, I had a thought after you hung up on me."

Sabo grimaces. "You mean you–"

"Today's Wednesday."

He doesn't elaborate. Sabo is too tired to process. "Yes," he follows, after a second. He glances at the sky out the front window. "What time is it?"

"Oh, uh." Ace fumbles with hand placement so he can lift his watch to his face. "Nine forty."

Sabo takes a couple beats to try and process this, moves his eyes away from the skyline, and sighs as he pulls his phone out. 2:47 is what the display reads, which sounds much more believable.

"How did the minute hand get off?" he mutters to himself, chancing a look at Ace's busted wristwatch. Ace raises a brow, taking his gaze off the road to scrutinize Sabo. "No, it doesn't matter," he mutters to himself once more, sliding his phone away back on his person and out of his hands.

"My point is," Ace continues, like he hasn't just been interrupted by a whole thing. "Your timeout will be done midday Thursday. Did they switch your days off?"

"No." Sabo sighs. "They technically gave me the next thirty-six hours. Technically closer to forty. Something like that. I go back in on Friday. Sometime.” He tries to smile and it turns out very lopsided, from that he can make out in the rearview mirror. “Can you tell I’m tired?”

“I don’t think ‘tired’ is an accurate description,” Ace quips. “When did you eat a proper meal last?”

“Uh, yesterday. Maybe.”

“Maybe??”

“A ‘proper meal’ means different things to the two of us,” Sabo huffs. “On my account it was yesterday. I’ve had food since then, of course.”

“Alright, so here’s the plan,” Ace announces before absolutely whipping it around a curve. Sabo is his passenger in the passenger seat and had fully prepared to be so when he got in the vehicle, but he’d been vastly underprepared for this sudden course of action, which is how he ends up halfway out of his seat with his cheek slammed into the cold window. Ace doesn’t quite notice his brother’s terminal velocity until the car is once again on the straight and narrow, and only then it’s because of the audible thunk Sabo’s face makes when it collides with the glass.

“Aw shit. You good bro?”

“Ow,” Sabo mutters. “If I have broken bones I’m suing your ass.”

“Well, if you’re good enough to make jokes, I think you’re better than you’re letting on.” Ace keeps the wheel steady with one knee while he takes both hands away to crack his fingers. When he glances over at Sabo again, he looks even more pathetic – like he’s becoming one with the glass. “Anyway, as I was saying.

“I’m taking your ass home. You’re going straight to sleep and while you crash, I’ll make you something decent to eat and stick it in the fridge for you to heat up later. I’ll even make you two servings to eat two different times, since you clearly can’t be trusted to take care of yourself correctly.”

“Ouch.”

“I want you to conk out for as long as your body allows. We can reset your sleep schedule tomorrow, alright? Put your phone on silent; do not answer any calls. In fact, you know what, just give it to me.

Sabo glances over to see Ace’s hand held out to him, palm up. Fingers wiggling expectantly. His lips pull up into a grimace. “I’m not doing that.”

“Fine.” Ace takes his hand back. “But you will comply with everything else.”

“Wow! It’s so funny, I didn’t realize you turned into my mother overnight! Really tapped into your mom potential, huh? Anything exciting happen in your life that would cause that? I guess I wouldn’t know, since I’ve been a zombie for the past two days.”

“There’s nothing wrong with acting like your older brother, you dipshit, especially if you keep putting yourself through the wringer like this. You go home. You sleep. You wake up and eat. You go back to sleep. Then we do laundry. Does that sound agreeable?”

“That’s negotiable, at the least,” Sabo mumbles. “I will accept good food as a form of bribery.”

“Oh, nice, because I’m flat broke at the moment.”

Sabo makes a mental note of that, and then they’re pulling into the driveway. Ace lets him exit the vehicle by himself and then promptly manhandles him all the way onto the couch where it will be easier to force his body to relax than in a real bed. Ace knows this, so he calls him weird before chucking a loose blanket at his head. Sabo is almost too tired to function at this point, so he lets Ace have the last laugh in favor of finally closing his eyes.

Coming to is a surreal experience, especially since the sun is still out. He must make a noise because Ace is suddenly within view. His limbs are tangled in the blanket and still so heavy that he doesn’t bother moving. “Thought you would be gone,” he half-groans, eyes slipping shut again for a moment.

“I did leave,” Ace confirms. “I had to go pilfer some stuff to make stew with. It’s almost done, so I’ll hang here until then.”

Pilfer. That could mean any number of things. Sabo chooses to believe in the option where Ace is an upstanding citizen, and then remembers Ace saying earlier that he had no money. He frowns and squirms on the cushions enough to where it looks like he’s checking his pockets. “Where’s my wallet, Ace?” he bluffs.

“Somewhere around here,” Ace pipes up. “Your stomach will thank you for your contributions to the Portgas Household’s pantry!”

“Ugh, I got robbed,” he complains. “This sucks. ‘m going back to sleep.” He rolls over so his back is to Ace.

“Yeah, you do you, bro. Stew will still be here later. I’ll see you when you’re back in the world of the living.”

—

Luffy comes in late that night and slams the front door shut as loud as humanly possible. When he appears in the main room, he doesn’t seem to be upset, so Ace writes it off as a Luffyism. Sabo hasn’t stirred at the noise, so it’s all good.

Realizing this, Luffy pads closer to Ace’s side and looks at Sabo’s unmoving body warily. “Why is Sabo passed out like a corpse? Is he sick?”

“No, he’s not sick, he just can’t take care of himself. Which is why we are going to let him sleep for as long as possible.”

Luffy just nods to this, but it’s the uncomprehending Luffy-nod that means he’s just going to end up doing whatever he wants to regardless. Ace sighs, then jerks his head towards the kitchen. “He ate a little earlier, but I want him to eat again when he wakes up. There’s stew in the fridge if you want it – just leave him a little. Got it, Monkey D. Luffy?”

Luffy throws him a salute and then runs off in his socks. “Yippee! Ace made stew!”

“Think of your brother, Luffy, and make good choices!” Ace calls after him. “He’s a pathetic man who needs food to feel better or he’ll end up sleeping through Laundry Day!”

—

Sabo does not sleep through laundry day, but he does sleep for sixteen whole hours, so it’s just around noon when he forces himself up off the couch and into a warm shower.

Ace is around, which is mildly unexpected. But he’s still half-asleep, so everything is at least a little unexpected. He glances up from playing video games with Luffy to see Sabo leaving the steam-filled bathroom with his hair hanging around his shoulders. “You look like a wet cat,” he calls.

“Sabo’s awake!” Luffy cheers. “Ace thought you died at one point.”

Ace elbows Luffy in the gut, making him hunch over. “I did not!”

“He totally checked to see if your heart was still beating!”

“I’m undead, actually,” Sabo says completely seriously.

“Does that mean you don’t need to eat anymore?” Luffy questions. “Because I ate all the stew last night.”

“I saw that coming and made extra.” Ace finger-guns in Sabo’s general direction. “That’s why I bought two sets of ingredients. With your money!”

“With my money,” Sabo echoes, because it’s such a wild statement to have to deal with this early in the day. Well, early for him. “Fuck you.”

“I mean, I can tell Luffy where I hid–”

“Thank you, Ace, for agreeing to share your quarters with both of your brothers so we can all do laundry today on your dime!” Sabo raises his pitch so his voice is mockingly squeaky when he says this. He starts moving down the hall before Ace can start to argue, letting his and Luffy’s voices bleed into the background.

When he comes back out, now dressed, it smells significantly better than before. “I reheated the stew,” Ace announces, gesturing for Sabo to take a seat at the kitchen counter. “Let’s all have lunch before we head out.”

“You have to drink this too,” Luffy tells Sabo, sliding a Gatorade across the counter so it sets in front of him when he finally does take a seat. “Ace’s orders.”

“Gotta get those nutrients back somehow.”

“Aren’t we so considerate, Sabo?”

“Do you even know what ‘considerate’ means?” Sabo asks, lips quirking up into a half-smile. At Luffy’s shrug, it turns into a real smile. “Well, thanks anyway. Both of you.”

“No sweat. And look!” Ace brandishes a five dollar bill for both to see. “I found this baby for us to use on coins! It’s all on me today–”

“Where’s my wallet, Ace?!”

[solarmorrigan]

TW: Brief description of a panic attack, mentions of PTSD

-

Post-S3 AU with Steve who, after much badgering (and minor bribery) agrees to drive The Party out to The Good Haunted House outside of town a little before Halloween

He doesn't plan on going in, because after what happened over the summer, having people jumping out at him and screaming while possibly brandishing weapons seems like a bad idea. But then he sees the kids walking off into the dark, swarmed by people who look intentionally threatening, leaving his sight, and he decides "fuck it" and goes in after them

Unfortunately, he was correct, and being in an enclosed, poorly-lit space with occasionally flashing lights where people jump out and scream at him is, indeed, A Bad Idea. Worse, their group gets turned around and Steve gets separated from the kids, and then he's alone, he has no idea where in the house he is, or where the kids are, and he's panicking

It really sets in that he's kinda fucked when he stumbles into the the "haunted hospital" themed room and nearly decks the mad doctor in a bloody face mask and apron that comes out wielding a chainsaw. He catches himself in time, but it still makes Steve feel worse, because it's not this guy's fault that Steve can't handle a jump scare, it's not this guy's fault that Steve shouldn't be here at all, that he's fucked up and he should have known better than to come in, and Steve doesn't want to hurt anyone but he doesn't know how the fuck he's going to get out of there, he really doesn't, and -

Enter haunted house actor Eddie, who is used to being threatened with violence (and has, in fact, been punched once before), but who is less used to people having literal heaving breakdowns in the middle of his room. People get scared, yeah, but this - this is another level. This dude looks like he's about to pass out. He doesn't even really look like he's present; the look in his eyes is uncomfortably distant

So Eddie puts down the chainsaw, pulls off his mask and gloves and approaches Steve slowly. The room is fairly quiet without the revving of the chainsaw, so he manages to get Steve's attention, and asks if he wants Eddie to get him out of there

Steve can only nod

Eddie gets him out the back way, the way customers really aren't supposed to go through, but it's faster, and then they're out in the open air and Steve can almost breathe again. Eddie asks him what he can do, and Steve asks him to talk. To remind Steve of where he is

So Eddie talks; he tells Steve he's somewhere outside of Hawkins at a haunted house, tells Steve what it's like to work there, filling the space with funny stories, and it grounds him. By the time Steve feels like the world isn't caving in on him, he can hear the kids shouting from around the other side of the house, looking for him

He has just enough time to thank Eddie before The Party falls on him and he puts his attitude back on, herding them back towards the car with promises of dinner on the way back "if you can all shut up for five minutes"

In the back of his mind, though, he's wondering if he might just drive back out here on his own tomorrow night. Not to go back in--god, no--but to maybe ask at the front who the mad doctor is. Steve thinks he'd like to thank him for his kindness properly

[ty-bayonet-betteridge]

forever thinking about how the long quiet embracing their full divinity involves The Voices coming back. like yeah being plural is basically the same thing as being a godi'll cosign that

[evelynpr]

Might be a hot take as a bkdk and tgck truther here, but I find izuocha endlessly fascinating, beautiful, but also tearfully tragic.

I see their love for each other as something representative of their innocence and naivety when they only knew so little about who they were, and what was to come.

I think the main barrier of their relationship is that its rooted in how they see each other very idealistically, specifically that they're attached to the image of their Best Heroic Selves, and not the deeply selfish, destructive, freaky, and egotistical parts of them. To each other, they need to keep fulfilling that image or else that same person they looked up to would almost die in front of them, and that would be too cruel. Although that hero is still there, that same person they looked up to is not the same now because of...well...everything.

Izuku had barely even talked to girls when he first met her. She was Izuku's first ever real friend (Sorry Kats, everyone and him knows he was terrible), so he saved her in that entrance exam even if it was so dangerous. She gave a new meaning to his derogatory nickname just by being a friend that believed in him. After that, she saved him several more times (Blackwhip and Megaphone are the biggest samples iirc). It makes perfect sense that she is Deku's hero.

Ochako hardly knew what it meant to be a hero when she first got into UA. Just by reaching out to some kid tripping, she made a new friend who would then save her in that exam, then save him again in return. This boy then became someone who was always working so hard to save everyone in trouble, and she realized she wanted to be just like him too. "I want to save people"

But...Deku changes. The weight of One for All is on his shoulders and he needs someone to carry this burden with him. He continues to want to save other people at the expense of himself, still not letting his true selfishness and ego ever show- and it only grows more and more unbearable.

Then...Ochako fell in love with Himiko. Truly, relentlessly, selfishly and devotedly in love with a girl who then dies giving her blood to her- the greatest expression of love Himiko could ever give.

Not that they can't love each other because of this happening (and...so many other things oh god), I'm honestly not sure how to explain it- But them ending up together after losing that innocence and naivety? After Ochako will forever grieve the girl who showed her love in its most beautiful and ugly form? After Izuku changed so fundamentally as a person that the butterflies of a nice girl talking to you doesn't exist anymore? After that simple image of being a hero and being in love has completely changed for them both?

Even so, I believe they still love each other. There is no label I know of that can properly describe them though. They are each other's image of being a hero when it comes to saving people. Aside from Shoto, no one else can grasp the grief of the person you tried to save dying in your hands. They would no doubt try to cope with these losses together, and just try to get better together...but so much has changed. They've changed. The world changed. What are they now? Who are they now?

"What happened...to us?"

[ind1c0lite]

(Basic context is that AU of Duel Desinties where the phantom impersonates Phoenix to get him found guilty of Clay's murder, I talk more under the cut abt it jkhlj)

-Basically meant to be a parallel to turnabout trump, cause if you can have ONE boss get found guilty of murder, why not a second one?

-OK basically: everything in DD happens normally until like- a day before clays murder, Phoenix gets yoinked by the phantom somehow (he is still alive, just being held captive), Phantom is still Fulbright, but they've decided to be silly goofy (target Phoenix and get him found guilty of murder, escape police custody and then murder phoenix and make it seem like Phoenix accidentally died while on the run, thats why they didn't kill phoenix right away unlike the real Fulbright) there is an imposter amo-

-I dont have the logistics as to how this affects solving Metis's murder, and how it effects what evidence is used n whatnot and turnabout for tomorrow as a whole, so im just going nuts HGJKHLJ

-Originally I was actually imagining this taking place during turnabout for tomorrow and I wanted that case to be apollo v klavier instead of phoenix and edgeworth and thats why klav is in here instead of Simon (I decided that Simon got badly injured and couldn't stand in court for the retrial, so klavier was asked to step in)

-The courtroom bombing still happens the same way it does normally, but Apollo decides to take up the case again instead of taking a leave, instead of like, you know, healing from the traumatic event that just happened, turnabout countdown still happens as well

-Apollo and Athena do not find out about the phantom's existence until well after this trial, so they have no idea that Phoenix could've possibly been replaced, though simon, after hearing about the trial, might be suspicious about whether or not that was the real Phoenix

-The Phantom had been not only keeping an eye on Simon for a while, but was also stalking Phoenix and Edgeworth after they both started looking into UR-1, so they were able to impersonate phoenix so well that not even his own daughter thought that anything was up (though while Trucy did find him a *little* bit off, but she figured that it might've been the bombing that caused him to act ever so slightly weird, so she didn't pay much mind to it until she heard about his confession in court and realized it might've been because he possibly, ya know, killed someone)

-it's pretty much just switching Athena being framed for murder with Phoenix, and instead of the trial ending on a cliffhanger, it continues on (probably with Klavier insisting on it) ending with soloman being found innocent and Phoenix being declared guilty

-There's a couple days inbetween the end of the cosmic turnabout and the start of turnabout for tomorrow, so Athena, Apollo and Trucy all get a little bit to process the fact that "oh god my boss/my dad killed someone" (simons execution date is pushed back a bit in this au) and they probably get to talk with Klavier and eventually a lil bit with Simon after he gets out

-Im not sure how it all winds down in turnabout for tomorrow (Phoenix escaping and being at large is basically the perfect cover for the phantom to resume being fulbright for that trial) but they do eventually realize that the phoenix who confessed wasn't the real one and now there's a search on going to find out where the real one is being held captive, hes fineeee just ready to take a week long nap and a good vacation (along with every other waa member)

-I dont have anything else to add on rn but if you want to add something or just throw in a scenario feel free to!! this idea has been bouncing around my head for like a month now and Im very happy to finally show yall it

[johnslittlespoon]

Buck + Bucky Timeline Info

For fic writers or just curious readers!

Referencing different archives and articles, I've done my best to compile John and Gale's Air Force timeline pre–England, because I feel like a lot of it gets muddied and sometimes we wanna write pre–MOTA canon events lol. Hope it comes in handy!

They meet (on or around) March 29, 1940 and become Flying Cadets at Randolph Field in Texas until August 30, 1940.

Still Flying Cadets, they move to Kelly Field in San Antonio, Texas from September 9, 1940 to November 14, 1940.

Both promoted to 2nd Lieutenant Air Corp Reserve on Nov 15, 1940. A bit unsure on the events before their next promotion, because Gale seems to have gone to Barksdale Army Air Field in LA in March of 1941 for advanced flying school, but haven't found anything on whether John went too; I'm assuming he did.

Both promoted to 1st Lieutenant, Air Corp on April 25, 1942. Not clear on whether this took place in LA or back in Texas or elsewhere.

Became instructors for the 29th Bombardment Group at McDill Air Force Field in Tampa, Florida on May 25, 1942.

Promoted to Captain and transferred to Gowan Field, Boise Idaho, but possibly at different times? All I can find is that by October they were both for sure there, but Gale was promoted to Captain on July 28, 1942 and transferred then, and John was promoted to Captain in August of 1942, but it doesn't specify when he transferred.

At Gowan Field in October of 1942, Gale was promoted to Commanding Officer for the 350th Bomb Squadron/100th Bomb Group, and John was promoted to Operations Officer for the 100th Bomb Group.

Transferred to Walla Walla Army Air Field in Washington in November of 1942.

Transferred to Wendover Army Air Field in Utah in December of 1942.

Both promoted to Majors in Sioux City, Iowa in January of 1943.

Transferred to Kearny, Nebraska (assuming to Kearney Air Force Base) in February of 1943. Cue P1 of MOTA!

In May of 1943, John traveled with an advance party to Podington, England to prepare the base for the 100th Bomb Group. On May 27 1943, Gale (with the 100th) left for Bangor, Maine. From there, he flew out across the Atlantic and arrived at Thorpe Abbotts on June 9 1943. And we know what happens from then on. :-)

If any of this is incorrect or you have extra information to add to the timeline, please let me know!! I wouldn't be surprised if I've missed things, but this is how their flight school/pre–England timeline went to the best of my knowledge. Hopefully this is helpful for some other writers too! I can throw together a timeline for their missions/events during MOTA as well if that's something anyone's interested in; it's easy enough to find mission dates in comparison to finding these pre–100th dates, but it might be nice to have them all in one place. x

[raven--bones]

lil incubus drabble! got inspired and couldn't help but write it out hehehe

gender neutral mage apprentice reader characters: killer, nightmare (/reader eventually hehe) word count: about 2120 summary: reader practices summoning demons, but things don't quite go to plan.

You have a knack for magic. Something about it just comes easy to you. But refining that talent is still an arduous undertaking. Years of study have gotten you this far, slowly rising through the rankings and you’re at the last and more important stage to become an official mage– summoning. 

Your world is intrinsically tied to the demon realm, a plane of magical beings that can be called upon to fulfill requests by those skilled enough to summon them. There are many kinds to summon and you’ve spent years perfecting the theory behind it all. It was finally time to put it into practice. 

The rules for summoning are simple; follow the instructions strictly, never make a deal with a demon, never break the salt circle, and never catch a demon’s attention.

You had everything you need. Candles, charcoal, herbs. You cleared a nice big space in your little apartment so you can make the summoning circle and protective salt barrier extra big, just in case. You wanted to make sure you get the runes perfect, and you didn’t want the minor imp you were going to summon to be cramped. 

The sun was setting through your window, casting everything in beautiful shades of pink and orange. The perfect time for a quick little summoning, when the veil was starting to thin. So you got to work. 

Your pronunciation was perfect. Your layout was exquisite. If you were being graded you know you’d have top marks for going by the book.

And yet you made a mistake. Somehow. 

The skeletal demon blinking at you from inside the salt circle is not an imp. Your best guess is he’s a minor incubus, both from the way he’s eyeing the salt at his feet and the scarcity of his robes. He’s decorated rather finely in gold which is unusual for someone of his status, but if he was any stronger than a minor demon he’d surely have gotten through the ridiculously trivial protections you put in place. 

“Um.” You double check your book just to be sure. You’re still on the page for minor imps, the circle is identical to the one you drew, and yet the proof of your mistake is before your eyes. 

The demon’s already lost the surprised look on his face and is grinning at you, boney tail whipping back and forth at his feet. He cocks his skull at you, black ichor dripping from his eyes. The gold chain attached to the cuffs on his horns clinks softly with the movement.

“whatcha got there?” 

You ignore him. You’re still flipping through your notes, desperate for an answer. How did you mess up this badly? 

“aw, summon me all the way here and don’t even wanna chat. i’m hurt.” 

You groan when you finally see it. You can’t believe you made such a simple mistake. You drop to the floor with a huff, sitting cross legged while you sort through the many papers and books strewn about. You somehow copied the wrong incantation. The circle and pronunciation were perfect, but your words were entirely wrong. You make sure to highlight a big red circle around the spell you read and note it as ‘chatty incubus’. 

But… that still shouldn’t have summoned him. If anything it should’ve failed– there should’ve been a little puff of smoke in the circle signaling your error, not an entire incubus standing there despite it. 

The summoning circles are combined with incantations to help focus your mana when summoning, the complex runes and shapes combining into an intricate language that filters your demand into very specific instructions for the realm’s magic to follow. Without the proper circle an incantation should be worthless, your mana too unfocused to express your intent clearly. 

And yet. 

The incubus drops into a crouch, studying you. “you messed up, huh?” 

You look up, finally taking him in. Short but sharp horns, black liquid dripping from empty, half-moon sockets. A red soul hovering in front of his ribs, sharp teeth drawn wide in an easy-going grin. His tail moves back and forth behind him like a mischievous cat’s, the sharp, gleaming gold tip just barely avoiding the salt circle. 

You don’t want to admit your mistake to a demon. You weren’t prepared for anything more impressive than the weakest of imps– even a minor incubus is out of your scope for another few years. They’re tricky and manipulative and fully capable of making deals that humans will regret. 

You shake your head and keep your gaze down. No distractions. You need to get rid of him before you make another mistake and things get really bad. “I’m going to send you back in a moment. I just need to find my notes.” 

The demon whines, “but i just got here. wouldn’t it be easier to just give me a task to fulfill the summons?”

You perse your lips. That is true. Your intent behind this summons was to tell the imp to do something simple so they’d be automatically sent back. Even just asking them to jump up and down three times would’ve worked. But now… you’d rather send him back the official way, with an incantation. You don’t want to misstep and–

“i can give you a better summoning circle. one you won’t find in any lame textbook.” He sounds coy. You shouldn’t trust him. But… you have to admit, your curiosity is piqued. It’s not like him just giving you the circle would be bad, anyway. You don’t have to use it if it seems dangerous.

“Fine. Your task is to give me this ‘better’ circle.” It easy enough to find a spare sheet of paper and pen and pass it to him. “What is it?”

The demon mirrors you, sitting cross-legged and setting the paper down to draw. “it’s just a simpler basic summoning circle. more efficient. totally fool proof.” He says it easily but you don’t trust him. There’s no telling what his motivations are for giving this to you, and if his claims are true it’s not like you can cross-reference it in a textbook. “the protections you silly mortals want are included so you don’t even need to use the salt.”

“There’s no way I’m believing that.”

The incubus shrugs with a wink. “you don’t have to. keep using the salt if you want, it won’t help any.” 

When he passes the paper back to you the charcoal on the ground begins to smoke. 

“ah, looks like our time’s up. it was nice meeting you, mageling. if you ever wanna chat again, you know how to find me~” The deep black portal that opens up at his feet swallows him up before you can even speak, leaving no trace of him after it closes with a snap. 

You breathe a sigh of relief and take a look at his drawing. Sure enough, he drew a crude summoning circle. The runes are all placed correctly, but they aren’t any you recognize. It does look simple, though. You’re surprised to see he included an incantation. This one is written in script you do recognize, though it is decidedly ancient. The older incantations were never your forte. 

The incantation is short, barely longer than the imp incantation you failed to read, but you don’t understand it. You can parse a word here and there, but… surely you’re not actually considering it. But it seems simple.

You could be the first human to use this circle and incantation. The reports you could write on it could become award-winning. Maybe you’ll streamline a whole new method of basic summoning and have your name in the textbooks! It’s worth a shot. If you put the right protections in place, what could go wrong?

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Just to be safe you make an extra salt circle. You don’t see any breaks in the first one but you want to be safe. That incubus could’ve shifted it just enough when he was here and you might not have noticed. 

The new summoning circle really is simple. It has just over half of the runes of the basic imp circle, though the interlocking lines and circles are a bit more complicated. The demon’s drawing is crude so it’s difficult to get the angles right, but you’re pretty sure it’s correct. 

The incantation is another matter. The handwriting is terrible and you’re not as familiar with the old script so you do your best to copy it down clearly. If it doesn’t work you can always double-check it with an old dictionary from the library. 

By now you’ve been at this for hours. Your living room is thankfully bright from the ceiling light and all the candles, but you don’t want to keep at this for too long. Things get unpredictable the later you work. The veil thins at night, and especially on the full moon. 

You can see it peeking through your window, though the reflection from your ceiling light on the glass ruins the view. You can do a bit of stargazing after this last attempt for the night.

You double check everything one more time. Two perfect circles of salt, not a single grain out of place. The charcoal circle is pristine and accurate. Your incantation is… probably correct, give or take a letter. At worst it’ll fail and you’ll have to fan the smoke out of your apartment. 

You can do this. 

You haven’t yet taken the more advanced courses where the old incantations get worked into the curriculum–you were expecting to really study the ancient language and script in a year or two–but you’re passable. 

You speak slowly and as clearly as you can, but you still stumble over the words slightly. 

Things look promising as you work your way through the phrases. The candles flicker. You can feel the mana supercharged in the air, coalescing in the center of the circles. At the last word your lights go out, the candles extinguishing, and the charcoal runes on the floor glint with dull reflections of moonlight through the window. 

It’s so dark. You reach out for the switch but your hand brushes against something cold and unpleasant. It moves under your touch, pulling back towards the center of the room and away from you. You take a step back and stumble on a stack of books, tumbling to the floor ungracefully. 

It’s far, far too dark. The shadows around you stretch further than they should, made up of an inky darkness that looks like you could fall into it. You can’t see through the circles anymore. A column of shadow’s taken up occupation in them, filling them out to the thin line of salt separating you from whatever it is that you just summoned. 

The darkness blinks at you. A sharp cyan light, far above your head even if you were standing, pins you in place. The shadows move, deliberately, and suddenly you’re able to make out the shapes in the void. Large curving horns– one broken nearly at the base. That single bright eye in a socket like endless void. A relaxed grin of sharp teeth. Broad shoulders and a broad ribcage. Long arms of thick bone ending in large hands tipped in sharp claws. Fine silk robes, brilliant silver jewelry. Digitigrade legs ending in more sharp claws. Shadows curl around him and you realize you’re seeing the silhouette of four massive tentacles coming from his back. 

You watch as the demon takes a step forward, scuffing the salt circle like he didn’t even know it was there. The only thing that could’ve kept you safe is now strewn about at your feet. 

Not that something as simple as salt could save you from an archdemon. There is nothing you can do. You’re helpless.

That sharp cyan eye looks down at the charcoal summoning circle you so painstakingly replicated, then moves back up to the notecard clutched in your hands. He continues to examine your room; the furniture, the stacks of books, eventually stopping on the rough drawing the little incubus gave you on the floor beside you. 

A tentacle picks it up and deposits it in his claws. It looks so much smaller in his hands. He glances at it for only a moment before letting it flutter back to the ground. He puts a hand to his chin and rests the other against his hip, skull tilted ever so slightly as he stares you down.

The look on his face sends a chill down your spine, an icy pit of fear opening up in your stomach. It’s one of the most dangerous expressions to see on a demon. 

“Interesting.”

Curiosity. 

“Very interesting.”

[otome-dissection]

he did Not just fucking say all that

[starlightkun]

➠ word count: 4.5k ➠ warnings: cursing, suggestive (no smut but they’re in love and horny lol) ➠ genre: fluff, established relationship, former hockey captain sungchan, chronically ill reader (chronic migraines), shortfic in the buzzer beater series (comes after saltwater smiles), some minor angst again but it’s about like growing up and being a human and finding your place and purpose as an adult, not between our couple or anything ➠ extra info: the reader in this has chronic migraines, which i have. when the reader’s migraines, experiences as a chronically ill person, and thoughts about being chronically ill are described, that is me writing directly from my own life. i am not generalizing the lives of all people with chronic migraines/chronic illnesses, but i am sending all my love to any readers out there living with a chronic illness, and here’s a reminder to go take your meds! ➠ series masterlist

“It feels like I can’t ever move on from this. From being Sungchan the hockey captain. I know you were just joking when you said it but—I don’t want to actually be that guy that peaked in college.”

“Yo, tell them about the championships against the Sharks, Sungchan!” Your colleague, Seunghan, insisted, pushing on your fiancé’s shoulder with his hand that held a drink.

Sungchan looked down at his feet for a moment, and you caught a quick flash of hesitation on his features before he looked back up at the group of enthralled people and gave a lighthearted chuckle and charismatic smile. “I’ve already told that story tonight, I’m sure everyone here doesn’t want to hear it again. Besides, don’t you all want to hear about Y/N’s paper?”

You two were at a rather ritzy gathering being thrown by your department celebrating that one of your articles had been chosen for publication in a huge literary theory journal.

“Anton wasn’t here when you told it earlier!” Seunghan shook a grad student instructor in your department. “And we’ve all read her paper like a hundred times before it got published.”

You reached up to squeeze Sungchan’s arm through his suit jacket. “It’s okay, Channie. I want to hear about it. That was championships your junior year, right? I wasn’t there, remember?”

He focused his gaze down on you for another second as if making extra sure, and you nodded and gave him a smile for good measure. He sighed, wrapped his arm around your shoulders, and began the story, much to all your colleagues’ delight.

A little later in the night found you by the drinks table with Ten. When you had moved back to your old college town to accept a position with the Literature department, you hadn’t expected to walk in on your first day and see a familiar face. Sure, you knew you’d be seeing Dr. Son, who was the department head now and had conducted your interview, and several of your old professors, but you’d been keeping up with most of your old schoolmates and as far as you knew, Ten had moved away after you two finished your two-year master’s program and remained there.

Ten swirled his cocktail around his glass before taking a sip, his eyes trained on your fiancé, who was still surrounded. “Why do I never get that treatment?”

“Maybe you should’ve been captain,” you snickered, taking another sip of your soda.

“Too much work.” Your friend wrinkled his nose. “So what is your man doing these days anyway? He get that PhD in molecular biology about fish or whatever?”

“Yep, he’s a whole doctor,” you told your coworker, looking over at your guy with pride. “Defended his thesis last spring, we did a short stint abroad for about a year for him to study some rare fish in the tropics to cure a rare blood disease. I enjoyed all the food and the sun, really. He probably got skin cancer. And now we’re back here. He’s actually doing his post-doc research here, too.”

“He’s curing blood diseases in tropical fish?”

“No, sorry, in people,” you covered your mouth as you laughed. “Somehow, the fish could help cure a human blood disease, I’m not sure about anything past that.”

“And you’ve got a fat rock on your finger,” he teased, grabbing your hand to inspect your engagement ring. “What a power couple.”

You giggled, letting him look over the ring. “Yeah, something like that. He proposed when we were abroad. God, it was the most gorgeous sunset. Just us, nice and quiet.”

“I’m invited to the wedding, right?”

“Duh. We just haven’t sent invites yet, bitch.” You pushed him with your foot, rolling your eyes. “It’s going to be a certified frat party, I’m afraid.”

“Kegger?” Ten grinned.

“I’m enlisting Taeyong and Kun to keep all you menaces in check for me.”

“Well yeah, you can’t trust your Chenle-of-Honor to do that, he’ll be the first up to do a kegstand.”

You laughed heartily at that. “A few years ago, probably. But I’m happy to report my man-shaped best friend has grown into a real adult.”

“Really? What’s the little monster doing?”

“Middle management in advertising at a designer company. He’s got his eye on a promotion soon, though. Oh, and he’s got the cutest little dog.”

“Speaking of little monsters…” Ten trailed off, eyeing your drink, then your abdomen. “No alcohol?”

“I can’t drink on my medication, remember?” You shook the ice around in your glass smugly.

“Damn!”

As you rode home with Sungchan, your hands entwined over the console, you looked out the passenger window with contentment in your chest.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he sighed, stroking a thumb over the backs of your fingers.

“For what?” You turned to look at him curiously.

His features were pensive and regretful as he focused on the road in front of him, one hand on the steering wheel. “For being a distraction all night. Everybody was asking me about hockey the whole time when all the focus should’ve been on you and your awesome article. I’m sorry, I'll completely understand if you just leave me at home next time.”

“Channie, why the hell would I do that?” You asked through incredulous chuckles, turning to hold his hand with two hands. “Celebrating my accomplishments would mean nothing if I didn’t have you there with me.”

“But I just—”

“Admittedly, I didn’t expect there to be so many puckheads in the Lang department,” you shrugged. “But I know where we work, and you are a bit of a hometown celebrity around here, baby.”

“That sounds like something you’d call somebody who peaked in high school.”

“Right, my bad. You peaked in college.”

“Rude.” He knocked your elbow with his, making you laugh.

“I’m kidding, handsome. But I am proud of you. I snagged a good guy, and I am not going to hide you away when I go to these events just because people are going to ask about your hockey career.”

“It’s not fair to you.”

“I appreciate you trying to put the focus back on me tonight, I really do.” You squeezed his hand. “But when Seunghan said everybody in the department had read my article hundreds of times, he meant it. They all helped proof and revise it dozens of times each. I was tired of reading it by the time it was accepted if I’m being honest with you. Hearing about your hockey game was a welcome reprieve from thinking about the body as a critical site for sex, gender, and political ideology in M. Butterfly.”

“Do you mean that or are you trying to make me feel less like a dick?”

“I mean it, baby boy.” You pinched his cheek.

He squirmed in his seat as he slowed to a stop at a red light. “You never call me that anymore…”

“Seems like you needed it.”

“Hey,” he said softly, turning his head to look at you. “I love you.”

“I know.” You cupped his cheek, stroking his cheekbone fondly. “I never doubted that for a second, baby.”

Sungchan leaned across the console to press his lips to yours, cradling the back of your head. You hummed delightedly into the kiss, moving your mouth against his sweetly.

When you felt the car suddenly roll forward, you jerked back, gripping his arm with a yelp. “Channie!”

He was already grabbing the steering wheel with two hands and slamming on the brakes again. “Fuck! Sorry!”

The car had moved forward less than half a meter and you were the only car at the intersection, but it was enough to get your heart racing.

“Are you okay, baby?” Sungchan checked on you with wide eyes, keeping one hand on the wheel as he reached his other hand over to grab your knee.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” You put your hand over his to reassure both of you. The light turned green then. “Let’s just uh, get home in one piece, hm?”

“Sounds like a plan.” He patted your thigh, leaving his hand there as he slowly started the car forward again.

“Channie?” You called out into the house, shrugging off your coat. You’d stayed a bit late to grade papers, and while Sungchan would’ve usually stayed to walk home with you, he had wanted to get a head start on cooking dinner.

“Pantry!” He yelled back, voice distant as he was presumably deep in the walk-in pantry.

You continued shuffling through the mail you’d grabbed on your way in as you walked further into your house, tossing the junk mail in the trash as you fished out the one packet that had caught your attention. Stopping at the doorway to the pantry, you tore open the thick packet. Skimming the letter and investigating the two lanyards inside, you informed your fiancé, “Donghyuck’s team is having a preseason scrimmage at the university, and he sent us VIP passes.”

Sungchan stuck his head back out of the pantry. “So that’s why he asked for our address the other day.”

“When did you talk to Hyuck?” You asked as he gently took the letter and lanyards from your hands.

“He called me out of the blue a couple weeks ago. I was at the gym before work and completely forgot by the time I got home, sorry, baby.” He flipped over the passes hanging from the lanyards, bright green and dark black, the colors of the professional hockey team that Donghyuck had gone on to play for after college. “I thought he was going to crash on our couch or something, not this.”

“He’s a pro hockey player making like millions a year and you thought he was going to ask to couch surf?”

“You think he wouldn’t?”

“Good point,” you chuckled. “So how was he? Sound like he was doing well?”

“You said it yourself, he’s a pro hockey player making millions a year. I’m sure he’s doing great.”

You frowned up at him. “You didn’t ask?”

“It was a quick conversation, he’s busy,” Sungchan shrugged and handed everything back to you, disappearing into the pantry again. “We barely had time to say hello.”

“We should go,” you declared, setting the lanyards down in a spot so you two wouldn’t lose them.

“Baby, it’s a Friday. That’s our date night.”

“We can miss one date night for this, Channie,” you scoffed. “Besides, I’ve never heard of Jung Sungchan not wanting to go see a hockey game. Are you sure you’re my Sungchannie? Were you replaced by an alien or something?”

Sungchan kept his back to you as he started chopping vegetables. “Never mind, you’re right. We should go.”

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously, but didn’t push the issue further. “Alright...”

Sat back down in familiar bleachers, you hugged Sungchan’s arm tightly, buzzing with excitement. As much as you had loved watching Sungchan play hockey when you were younger, there was something special about watching it with him, having him explain plays, tell you if a player made the right call, or how he would have done it if he had been captain. Being able to see the sparkle in his eye up close as he watched one of his favorite things. You’d seen it plenty of times in the years that you stayed local while he got his PhD. Which is how you knew that something was wrong now, even as he tried to flash a smile at you every so often, ones that never reached his eyes. He didn’t join in the cheers very enthusiastically, and never engaged when the other guys around him tried to debate calls that the refs made.

You found out that the whole team from your senior year had been invited as well, though some of them couldn’t make it. So it was you, Sungchan, Mark, Ten, Jeno, and Chenle in the VIP section. Yangyang was staying abroad with his parents, while Sicheng was at a seminar for work. Chenle was of course invited as an honorary member of the team, fresh off a plane from Paris with that promotion in his pocket.

Donghyuck was Good. He had been great when he was on the Raptors, obviously, which was how he had gotten scouted to go pro, but now he was great. And this was just a preseason scrimmage, just him messing around. You were sure he was scary good when he was actually trying at their real games. He’d kept his old number from college, 66, and seemed to have his own legion of fans with posters and signs.

When the game was finally over—and Donghyuck’s team won—a representative from the team corralled everyone with the VIP lanyards and directed you towards a different area while the rest of the stands filtered out. You kept your hold on Sungchan’s hand as you waited in what you were pretty sure was the women’s locker room for your old friend.

Finally, Donghyuck ran in, and everyone immediately swarmed him, hooting and hollering, slapping him on the back, ruffling his hair, and making teasing remarks about being a big shot now.

“Mark!” Donghyuck threw his arms around his old Big’s neck, nearly knocking his friend over.

“Christ, dude,” Mark wheezed, stumbling back a couple steps. “Are you still wearing your gear or something?”

“Did you not keep up with our lifting regiment?” Donghyuck shamelessly felt up Mark’s arms, then gasped dramatically. “Am I the Big now?”

Mark swatted his hands away. “If you want to pay for all my beer and drive me around in your Lamborghini or whatever, sure.”

“Deal!” The pro player grinned, then turned to the next person, who happened to be you. “Y/N!”

“Hyuck!” You beamed, opening your arms wide for him to throw himself at you as well, only staying up since Sungchan was right behind you to catch you. “Hey, there! God, I can’t believe it! You killed it out there!”

“Thanks!” He let go of you with one arm to wrap it around Sungchan’s neck, pulling him into the hug with both of you. “Oh, it makes me so happy that you two are still together! Are you engaged? Married? Kids? I didn’t have time to ask Sungchan when I called the other week, I was heading into an interview.”

You leaned back as much as he would let you, just enough to show off your ring. “He proposed last year. We’re— eugh!”

You were cut off by Donghyuck tugging you two against him into a tight embrace again. You gave him a pat on the back as you continued, slightly choked with your throat pressed against his shoulder. “We’re looking at a spring wedding…”

“I love you guys so much…” Donghyuck sighed. “All of you. I hope you know that hasn’t changed.”

“We know that, Hyuck.” You coughed, rubbing his back. “Make sure we have your address so we can send you an invite, okay?”

“What did I tell you, Y/N? In undergrad?”

“You told me a lot.” You laughed as he finally let you and Sungchan go. “Some stuff you probably don’t want me to repeat right now.”

“I said you guys were soulmates. I knew you were gonna get married. I knew it.”

“Oh yeah, you did.” You squeezed his hand that he still had a grip on. “Hey, when you retire from pro hockey, you can be a fortune teller.”

“Don’t joke about that, I’m the star player, haven’t you heard?” Donghyuck was practically puffing out his chest. “I’m years off from retirement!”

Sungchan grabbed him by the scruff then, teasingly mussing up his hair. “What did we always tell you about bragging?”

Ten, Jeno, and Mark eagerly joined in on giving him a killer noogie, the four of them managing to keep him in place despite Hyuck being the only one who had remained a professional athlete.

“Ack!” Donghyuck complained as he was surrounded. “Y/N! Chenle! Somebody, help!”

“Promise you’ll buy us dinner with your star player money,” Chenle crossed his arms over his chest as he watched on, “and maybe Y/N and I will convince them to leave you alone.”

“Yeah!” Jeno agreed. “Dinner and drinks and we’ll consider!”

“This is extortion!” Donghyuck yelped.

“Glad to see some things don’t change…” You sighed, shaking your head. “You guys still pick on him.”

“He needs an ego check,” Jeno snorted, his arm now around Donghyuck’s neck.

“I was going to take you all out to dinner anyway!” Donghyuck pleaded. “Didn’t you people read the letters?”

“It was in the letter, guys,” you confirmed loudly.

The guys all looked at each other, slowly releasing their holds on the youngest. With sweet, proud smiles, they fixed his hair and straightened his branded hoodie back up, smacking his shoulder and patting his cheek between compliments of how well he played and specific moves he did, giving feedback on certain things he could improve on still. Donghyuck rolled his eyes at the constructive criticism, but you could see him struggling to suppress the fond curl of his lip at being surrounded by his old teammates again.

When you finally got home that night, you felt about ready to collapse into bed. You had a tired, happy smile on your face from seeing all your old friends again, and haphazardly tossed your go bag to the side before stepping out of your shoes. Sungchan didn’t follow you into the bedroom, as you had expected. You heard him detour to the kitchen, and your ears perked up with interest as you changed into your pajamas.

Sungchan didn’t just get a glass of water, though. You heard him rooting around in the snacks, and that’s when you got concerned. You had just eaten dinner and had drinks, and he had plenty of bar snacks as you all hung around and caught up after finishing dinner. He shouldn’t be scrounging for a midnight snack already.

After tossing your dirty clothes in the hamper, you ventured out to the kitchen determinedly. Sungchan hadn’t yet found something to eat, a frustrated pout on his face as he pulled out box after box, but didn’t open any.

“Hungry?” You asked curiously, leaning against the fridge.

“No,” he sighed, setting the container of crackers down loudly then rubbing his face harshly.

You held your hand out towards him, and he took it immediately. You led him back through your house by the hand, into your bathroom and let go there. Walking back out through the house, you grabbed his desk chair from your joint home office, and pulled it into the bathroom. He was standing exactly where you left him, and let you wordlessly push him down by the shoulders to sit in the chair. Washing and drying your hands, you then readjusted the chair, making sure he was exactly where you needed him. Then you climbed onto his lap facing him, the two of you perpendicular to your bathroom vanity. You grabbed a fuzzy character headband from one of your drawers and put it on him, pushing his hair back from his face.

“I—”

“Shh.” You stopped him as soon as he opened his mouth, putting your own headband on.

Next, you grabbed your cleanser.

“What—”

“Shh,” you repeated with more emphasis, holding his eye contact firmly, until he gave up and closed his mouth, letting his head fall back against the head rest.

You meticulously went through your whole extended skincare routine, doing each step first on Sungchan, then on yourself. He finally gave up on trying to talk, then finally relaxed, then really relaxed, his eyes fluttering shut and a pleased hum rising in the back of his throat.

“All done, handsome,” you announced at the end, giving his cheeks a final squish between your hands, then pulling off his headband and fluffing up his hair.

Sungchan slowly opened his eyes, reaching up to take your headband off as well.

You smiled down at him. “How are you feeling, Channie?”

“Better, thank you, baby,” he replied quietly.

“You want to talk about it?”

He couldn’t look you in the eye. “About what?”

“Whatever’s been getting you bummed lately. You weren’t all there tonight, I could tell. And the day we got the passes, you didn’t even want to come in the first place. That’s not like you.” You put both your headbands aside on the counter, then stood up off him. “You get changed into your pajamas, I’ll tidy up in here. We’ll talk in a few minutes, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” He nodded, getting up and grabbing the chair to drag back with him.

You wiped down the bathroom counter and tidied up all your bottles and containers, listening to the sounds of Sungchan getting ready in the next room over. When you walked back into your bedroom, you were thrown for a loop as you couldn’t see your fiancé for a moment. You found him in your living room, sitting on your couch and holding a picture frame that usually lived on one of the end tables.

Sitting down beside him, you looked at the picture with him. It was of you two at his last collegiate hockey game, him still in his uniform as he picked you up and spun you around, bright smiles on both your faces. His face now was brooding, jaw clenched and eyes hard as he continued staring at it.

“You got me that for our first anniversary,” you commented softly. “I love that picture.”

“I do too,” he sighed, though his tone was much more bitter than his words.

“Talk to me, Channie,” you murmured. “What’s going on?”

“It feels like I can’t ever move on from this.” He shook the frame. “From being Sungchan the hockey captain. I know you were just joking when you said it but—I don’t want to actually be that guy that peaked in college.”

“Oh, Channie...” you breathed out, draping an arm across his back and leaning your cheek against his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize...”

“It’s not you, baby,” he assured you, squeezing your knee. “It’s everything else. Like I try to do anything else, be anything else, but I’m just dragged back into that stupid jock box again.”

“Well, what do you want to be?” You asked as you sat back up, rubbing up and down the center of his chest soothingly. “Not what you think other people want you to be, or what you think you should be. What do you actually like? What do you want to do? Do you still like hockey? Outside of everybody’s opinions about you liking hockey? It’s okay either way, for you to still like it or not. It was the biggest thing in your life for like twenty years, baby. It’d be ridiculous to expect you to just suddenly not like it as soon as you graduated.”

“Do you really want a husband that just talks about sports all the time while you’re talking about smart stuff?” He sighed, letting his eyes close as he leaned all of his weight against you, his hands dropping to rest the frame in his lap.

“I want a husband that’s you. That’s why I accepted your proposal and not like, Dr. Yoon’s or something.”

“I’m going to assume you’re being hyperbolic to make a point and that my research head didn’t actually propose to you. Because if not, then I’m going to stop pouting and write my letter of resignation right now.”

“I’m trying to make a point here.”

“Which is?”

“You’re really underselling yourself, Channie.” You encouraged him to lay his head in the crook of your neck, not letting up your movements on his sternum. “You’re plenty smart. We’ve been together for almost seven years and I still couldn’t keep track of a hockey game if a gun was to my head. Meanwhile you were a whole captain. You had to make decisions on your feet—or, your skates. Not to mention, hm, oh yeah, you have a PhD in molecular biology. Did you forget about that? Doctor Jung?”

“Oh yeah,” he mumbled into your collarbone.

“Oh yeah,” you mimicked him lovingly. “I nearly flunked my bio for non-majors course my freshman year, you know.”

“What?” He squinted up at you. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“You knew I was a Bio major, you should’ve asked me for help.”

“I kick myself every day for it,” you replied melodramatically, and finally saw a smile tug at the corner of his lips. “So? Do you think you still like hockey or not?”

He let out a deep sigh. “Yeah, I do. I really do.”

“Good. I’m glad.” You kissed the top of his head. “I want you to do stuff that makes you happy.”

“Coach came and found me at the lab last week... the day we got the VIP passes from Donghyuck. He’s looking for a part-time assistant coach, said I was his first pick,” Sungchan admitted quietly.

“That’s why you were so... off that day, huh?”

“Yeah. It felt like I was handed a pamphlet for a retirement home.”

You chuckled as he reached forward to set the picture down on the coffee table, then grabbed your hand that was on his chest. He looked up at you with heartachingly familiar, big, round doe eyes, ones that hadn’t changed in the ten years since you’d first met.

“I told him no but... I’m thinking maybe I should ask if he’s found someone else yet?”

“I think that’s a great idea, baby.” You pecked his forehead. “Coach Jung… I think I like the sound of that.”

“Yeah?” He grinned, a much different look in his eye as he sat up to his full height, towering over you.

“I don’t know, let me try it again.”

“Go ahead.”

“Coach Jung.” You reached for the back of his neck as he laid you down on your couch, hovering over you. “Yeah, it’s got a nice ring to it, huh? Powerful, sexy. I love a man with a whistle.”

“You’re so dorky,” he snickered, letting you pull his lips down to yours. “I love you so much.”

“I love you more, my Sungchannie.” You cradled his face with both of your hands.

“Lies.” He kissed your lips. “Impossible.” He kissed your neck.

“Says who?”

“Who has the whistle here?”

“You don’t have one yet,” you teased, holding your arms up for him to pull your shirt off. “Assistant Coach Jung.”

Sungchan kissed a trail down your front, stopping above your waistband. “You’re forgetting something, baby.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m a scientist, with a degree and everything, and I say it’s scientifically impossible for anybody to love anybody more than I love my girl.”

You made grabby hands at him, and he rose up from where he had settled between your legs, entirely blocking out the lights above you. You connected your mouths together again, wrapping your arms and legs around him so tightly he had no choice but to lay his entire weight on top of you.

“No fair,” you complained into his mouth. “I just told you I almost flunked Gen Ed bio.”

“You should’ve let me be your sexy tutor, then.” He didn’t sound sympathetic at all.

“Yeah, freshman you all sweaty and nervous in your hockey team hoodie.” You broke apart to giggle. “Real hot stuff, Channie. Literally.”

“You’re lucky you’re the love of my life, or I’d be really hurt at some of the stuff you say to me, you know.”

“You’re right.” You gave him a peck. “I am lucky that I’m the love of your life.”

➠ next | series masterlist | blog masterlist

[lee-hakhyun]

@auuwmk okay so. the content has been revised already and i'm getting this all secondhand from tweets so i may be missing some context. i am taking this information from the linked tweet threads please read it because it'll explain this better than i do

originally, kaizenix's base genre was 'romance fantasy'.

kim dokja was saying that yuri had been performing her role as a rofan protag by being the fiancee of the first prince, but then hsy came and escapes the genre by... making yuri become king (instead of the queen married to the king)? the thing is, there are female protagonists in rofans who do become king. yuri holding a position of power is not breaking out of the genre :/

then han sooyoung says the phrase 'a romance fantasy without romance won't be popular'. a romance fantasy without romance... is just fantasy. but.

it seems the romance fantasy genre in the first place was created due to male readers bitching about female leads having romance in a fantasy story, pushing the stories away into the romance genre and leading to the creation of the rofan genre to keep a distinction from other romances. but then there was a problem with 'romance fantasies without romance' still being labled as romance fantasy just because there's a female lead.

there's something to think about when there are so many fantasy stories with male protags having a romantic interest or even entire harems but the it isn't labeled romance. but when the protagonist is a woman...

there were revisions trying to fix the issues readers had, but eventually they just removed the romance part of kaizenix's original genre entirely (leaving it just as fantasy). they were very apologetic over this whole situation in the author's notes for the chapters this occured in [ep 72 (5) + (6)]

[archersartcorner]

if you're still taking saavik requests... maybe something about baseball? idk like after TPP, saavik is pitching for the team NEXT season & the enterprise crew show up to her game & chant "photon! torpedo!! 👏👏👏👏👏"

or maybe instead something about spock teaching saavik how to put on makeup, or something like that...

Got a couple of baseball Saavik requests! Been wanting to draw her playing baseball for a while now :)

[butchrindou]

need to draw baji and rindou as bffs tbhhh i feel like they’d get along but it would take a while also literally because i have some music baji would listen to in my rindou playlists but who said that.. must’ve been the wind

[abirddogmoment]

I love seeing Rory run in the field!! Bird dog doing bird dog things!! You said in the tags you had different training and priorities with her vs Mav re: offleash running like that. What kinds of things did you do differently with Rory to be comfortable having her offleash at a distance with reliable recall?

I was writing a whole novel but really it boils down to this chart. Under the cut because it's (vertically) long.

In short, it's just as much about what I didn't do with Maverick as what I did do with Aurora.

(Edited to add: I am extremely fortunate to live in the prairies where the kind of visibility I need is easy to find. Use my experience to inspire your own training if you like, but don't use it as a recipe. I have my own goals and my own priorities and those are likely different than yours.)

Maverick:

🔵 Supremely confident from day 1

🔵 Came home in August (extremely good and exciting time for outdoor adventures)

🔵 Prioritized specific sports behaviours over foundational building blocks like engagement and cooperation

🔵 Learned bad habits from my older dog at the time (prey drive > recall)

🔵 Was indiscriminately prey driven. If it moved, he wanted to kill it.

🔵 I phased out treats too fast and didn't want to use an ecollar or long line

🔵 I focused on "social media dog behaviours" (think like walking extremely close to me on trails) and got frustrated when we couldn't meet these rather than meeting my dog where he was at. This created a lot of frustration in our dog adventures.

🔵 I practiced recalls constantly when I didn't have to, making them a tedious behaviour for him. I would recall him 20-50 times a hike for everything from "you're too far away from me" to "I want to take a photo".

Aurora

🟣 Came to me a little insecure and looked to me for reassurance

🟣 Came home in December (a cold and relatively boring time for outdoor adventures)

🟣 I prioritized engagement, cooperation, and name recognition from day 1

🟣 Practiced good habits by walking offleash in the snow either alone or with Pike (amazing recall)

🟣 Is extremely birdy, but is very very focused. She easily calls off deer or people/dogs in the distance because she mostly cares about birds.

🟣 Literally always gets offered a high value snack for recalling or voluntary check ins (I will never phase this out, I will carry chunks of cheese on offleash walks for the rest of her life)

🟣 I never practice recalls if I don't need them. This one is hard to explain, but once Rory understood that long whistle = come back as fast as you can, I don't whistle unless I really need to. I recall her an average of 0-3 times per hike (*based on visibility or wildlife*) and trust her to make good decisions otherwise. I keep my eyeballs on her 100% of the time and choose areas with good visibility, but I don't recall her just for being far away.

🟣 I limit hikes where I have to nag her often (think, in the woods where I dont have a great line of sight and have to remind her to stay close to me) to a few times a month or less so she doesn't start getting frustrated about it.

🟣 I trust the training I put into her and choose to run her in areas with (relatively) reduced risk if she makes the "wrong" choice. I don't nitpick everything she does and I let her make her own choices, within reason.

🟣 I have an interrupter cue to ask her to stop doing something before I call her back (if she's digging a hole and I want her to move on, I use "Rory, enough! Here!") instead of whistling at her.

🟣 I don't force her attention on check ins. If she runs back to me and doesn't want a snack and wants to run straight back out, I let her run back out.

🟣 I have anticipatory cues for the end of a walk so I don't have to recall her when we get to the end of the field.

I want to say that it's nerve wracking to watch my dog sprint at full speed hundreds of yards away from me. I have to fight the impulse to recall her just because she's far away. It's an exercise in trust because I'm always worried about her going over the horizon, or running into a wildlife, or falling into a hole, but it's an important thing to work on if you have a dog that needs that trust to thrive.

Mav and I were a good team, but I never fully trusted him outdoors. I always had my finger on the ecollar buttons ready for him to do an evil and need to be vibrated. It was exhilarating to watch him in the field, but it wasn't really fun or relaxing.

Rory and I built a much stronger foundation of trust (I personally never would have been able to do this if I had more than one dog). She doesn't know any tricks yet, but I'm super confident in her recall and ability to take direction in the field, even when she's sprinting as fast as possible.