#I keep a clean house but they don’t keep a clean room and supposedly the other neighbors aren’t that good at it

[deathsmallcaps]

I walk out of the shower. There is a fucking large roach by my trash can.

I tell my roommate’s dog to kill it with fire. Knowing that he won’t, I run and get my shoe and smash it.

Since I believed my brother and his girlfriend (the roommates) are asleep, all I brought to the bathroom was a pajama top and clean underwear.

Once the bug is dead, I flip my shoe back to where it came from. Standing in the middle of my apartment with just a shirt and underwear on.

I look up as I go to grab a paper towel to pick up the smashed bug. On the stovetop is a large pan full of uncovered cooked chicken. It’s been left for at least 2 hours.

You know, where the roach could’ve touched it. Ew.

Mentally I’m thinking “Bug on meat??? Especially the kind of meat most likely to be yucky dirty?? The Samauri’s curse meat? That stuff that gave that entire family a Life full of Shits because they liked to keep some on the counter??? Chicken meet with prints of bug feet??? And we have a perfectly good storage area??? The fridge???”

So, thinking they won’t hear me, I whisper-scream at what I thought was an appropriate level “MEAT? Where the bugs can get it???”

I then Realize that I forgot to brush my teeth, and I rush back into the bathroom just as someone from their room opens the door.

I hear rustling. Oh god they heard me.

I get out of the bathroom again and yup. The chicken is now in the fridge.

I am glad that the biohazard is gone. Being younger than me, they left a slight mess, but being such a great big sister, I finish clearing the stovetop. I try not to do for them anymore but I don’t mind getting those last bits.

But I feel bad because that wasn’t the most elegant methods of communication. And it certainly wasn’t supposed to actually be communication, just an expression of a strong feeling.

Such is life

[commandershepardvasfuckit]

An Arranged Marriage, part 2 (first part here)

1.6k words m!troll x f!reader, sfw but later parts will be nsfw

It’s the first morning in your new home with your new husband and nothing is like your old life in your human kingdom, not even breakfast.

————

Sounds of a crackling hearth and cooking woke you up, still self swaddled in blankets and furs in the middle of the bed. You were upset but not surprised to find everything had not just been a nightmare.

Zen’jan was sitting on the ground by the hearth, a pot was bubbling away over the fire while he delicately skewered a few small fish. He looked over to you when he saw you stir, watching you for a few moments before going back to what he was doing without saying a word.

It was quiet, weirdly quiet, at least to you. There’s should have been the bustle of servants helping you dress, bringing you breakfast or escorting you down to the main hall. Instead it was just Zen’jan, someone supposedly pretty important, sitting on the floor cooking breakfast himself.

Without looking up at you he spoke, “Bira told me you did not eat last night, you really should come and eat breakfast”.

The room was bright and warm with the early morning sun streaming through the windows in the front of the house and the fire going, warm enough to make hiding under the blankets a bit uncomfortable. You shuffled out from under your security blankets, dragging one with you so you could keep feeling of having a barrier.

Sitting opposite of him at the hearth you watched as he finished cooking; some sort of porridge simmered away in the pot, skewered fish roasting over low coals, and a platter of fruits, some familiar and some not, sat to the side.

Zen’jan handed you a bowl of the porridge and pushed a few small dishes, spices and honey by the look of it, towards you. Tentatively you have the bowl a sniff and scowled over its sour smell.

“You can sweeten it, if you want” he said, barely looking in your direction.

Immediately you dumped the whole dish of honey into your porridge, though a sour, fermented flavor still persisted under the honey.

He handed you one of the fish, entirely intact with fins and head included, which you took and just stared at. You looked to him, see what he was doing, and you watched him carefully remove the meat from the bones with ease on his. Even with your smaller hands and extra fingers you were just making a mess of yours, accidentally mashing the soft meat instead of removing it as you tried to get through the skin.

He reached back out and gently took the skewer from you and set it aside, instead grabbing a fresh one and quickly getting to work and pulling the meat off and setting into a dish before handing it to you.

“Thank you” you muttered.

He only gave a small nod of acknowledgment.

Curiously you watched him as you ate your fish as he picked up a large green fruit and dug his thumb into it to peel it, ripping the peel off to reveal segments of bright green insides.

Sitting your fish aside you tried to mimic his fruit peeling technique, pressing your thumb into one of the same fruit to no avail, unable to tear through the peel. Annoyed, you jammed your thumb into it with more force, sending your finger clean through the peel and rupturing a few of the segments inside, making a sticky mess of things as the juice dripped down your hands.

Zen’jan sighed and took the massacred fruit from you and handed you his cleanly peeled one instead.

The two of you ate in silence for a while, neither making eye contact or even looking the other’s way.

“You washed the markings off last night before I got back” he interjected flatly, still not looking at you.

“Yeah? Did you just expect me to stay like that?” you snapped at him, “And I don’t really want to ask, but it was blood, wasn’t it?”

“It was, but I was supposed to wash your face and arms”.

“Well, you’re the one who sent me off right after and didn’t say anything, so I really don’t know what you expected. And I wasn’t going to just sit here for hours covered in blood just waiting around for you anyways! That’s disgusting!”

“It is not disgusting” he snapped back, “It is just blood! And it was mine anyways, it is fine!”

You glared at him, feeling nauseous now knowing for certain that it was blood you were painted with yesterday. You were not feeling particularly warm towards him before and this certainly was not helping. “It’s not a big deal that I washed myself off” you added.

“It is. I was supposed to do that for you” any anger in his voice had faded, he just looked sad now, “It was supposed to be my first act of service to you” he trailed off.

Finally you looked up at him across the hearth. He was looking down at the fruit in his hand and fidgeting with it, looking defeated. Part of you wanted to feel pity for him, he was clearly really distraught over this, but it did not change the fact he was getting annoyed with you for something you were never told.

“Well, I didn’t know, so it’s not like I’m offended that you didn’t do it. It’s fine” you relented. You were not sure why you were trying to comfort him, but it just did not feel right to kick him while he was down.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you” he apologized, “That was no way to talk to my wife, there is never any excuse for that”.

For someone eight and a half feet tall he looked small sitting there with his shoulders hunched over and head down.

How quick he was to apologize caught you off guard. As far as you remembered, you could not recall your father ever apologizing to your mother for snapping at her or getting cross over something. You were not willing to forgive him for snapping at you and expecting you to read his mind, but you could at least accept that he was truly sorry about it.

By now your anger had fizzled out for the most part, “It is what it is” you acknowledged his apology.

“Can I have a do over?” he asked.

“Of what?”

“Washing your arms and face, I mean. I know there is nothing to clean off, but I would still like to make the gesture, if you would allow me”.

Particularly, you did not want him to touch you still, but his request was reasonable and seeing how guilty he was over it all was eating at you more than you cared to admit.

“Fine” you agreed.

He gave you a weak smile before getting up and padding to the bathroom, returning shortly with a bowl of water, washcloth, and towel to sit by you.

“May I?” he asked.

You offered your arm to him and he took your hand, he dipped the washcloth into the bowl and slowly began to wipe off your arm. He was meticulous with his cleaning despite there being nothing to actually clean off, periodically pausing to look up to check your facial expression, seemingly making sure you were still alright.

Every time you caught his gaze he was looking at you with such deference. With the exception of him snapping at you he had been extremely respectful, and as different and monstrous as he appeared he did seem to be a decent person.

“The other, please” he requested once he finished with the first. He repeated the process in its entirety, inspecting your skin carefully to make sure it really was clean just as if he was really was wiping the blood off.

“So,” you broke the silence, “Why blood?”

“There is power in blood, and the eyes of my people and our gods you are my blood now. Your face, please” he paused and reached to place his hand under your chin, you still flinched back instinctively.

“I woke up early yesterday morning and visited my gods, spoke to them, prayed and made offerings, and gave them my blood to bless so that I may pass their blessings to you. You wore their marks and the marks of my tribe, in my blood, so now we are bound”.

He was so delicate with your face, his touch was soft as he slowly wiped down your forehead and nose. He was also much closer now to see what he was doing.

Up close his eyes were so vivid, a shade of green you had never seen on a human and you could really see all the carvings on his tusks, all the elaborate patterns and runes.

“You said this was supposed to be your first act of service” you broke the silence that hung in the air, feeling awkward and uncomfortable with how close he was, “What did you mean by that?”

“A spouse should always do what they can to make their partner’s life better, anything they can do to help. Washing the blood from your partner is traditionally viewed as the first act of service, it reinforces that promise. It is something small that someone can do on their own, but it represents that just because something can be done alone it does not mean it must be done alone. That no matter how small, I will be there to help you, and I have done a poor job of that”.

Once he finished with you face he scooted back away from you, giving you your space once more.

“I’m not a fool. I know there is no love here, and I do not ever expect it, neither of us wanted this. But maybe one day you will not flinch when I move, and maybe one day we can talk as friends at least”.

Part 3

[sukunas-wife]

Chapter 7

Ch.1 - Ch.6

“Yuji..” I smiled softly, seeing him there before I cringed, pulling my outer robe off and throwing it over his lap as I hugged him. “What happened? Are you okay?” I sniffled wondering what exactly had happened, I pulled back, holding Yuji by the shoulders, “I thought…” he only smiled, closing his eyes as he tilted his head.

”I’m okay! Nothings wrong.” I nodded, stepping back, curious how Yuji could recover so quickly. “Alright then.” I turned to Gojo as he started to talk to Yuji. Explaining how the odds were it was a plan to have him killed, and that it would be for the best to keep Yuji hidden away practising controlling his energy output for now. I was iffy about the situation, even more when he said no one could know his location, but it also meant I wouldn’t be able to stay on the campus now that Yuji was supposedly dead, the higher ups wouldn’t be obligated to house me.

“That’s no problem, but my concern is where are you going to keep Yuji…” I watched as Gojo seemed to think about it, the mortuary being on the first basement floor gave way to privacy as he explained about private rooms that no one used because they were long forgotten after remodelling and the fact students and staff were sparse there was never need to use them. I nodded along as the other man who was panicking earlier came back with a set of clothes. “Thank you Ijichi” I did my best to remember his name after hearing Gojo say it. Yuji started to get dressed as the rest of us were turned away listening to Gojo elaborate more on his plan.

It wasn’t long before Morí and I were in the room setting things up for Yuji. It was a melancholic feeling asI swept up dirt and dust setting up a bed and making sure everything was clean before I would have to leave for who knows how long. I hummed clasping my hands in front of my chest, fidgeting slightly as I looked around one last time with a nod. “We’re done, I should tell him bye before we leave…” Morí from beside me gave a solemn nod in agreement. “I’ll be by your side every step of the way Lady Y/N.” I nodded, swallowing as we took the stairs to leave the room, ending up on the basement floor hallways, making our way to the room where we left Yuji with the others. I opened the door, he was there smiling and nodding along with Gojo, he turned to me with a bright smile and I couldn’t help but smile back. “Everything’s ready.”

The short walk back to the room felt strange, Gojo was leading the way, Yuji was beside me bent in a weird angle to rest his head on my shoulder as we walked. I smiled, shaking my head as we got to the room, I let him go in after Gojo before I followed. I listened as Gojo explained everything to Yuji now that he was able to pay attention. At the end of the conversation I managed to zone back in, turning to Yuji who was sitting on the sofa holding a weird green plushie. “Yuji.” I called his name looking at him with a soft smile, he turned to me and smiled back, “I’ll be leaving soon, so I suppose this means I wont see you for a while.” I moved closer, running a hand through his hair and pushing it back with a soft smile, “Be good, and don’t be too reckless alright?” I saw how he looked confused before he looked up at me. I saw for a second that same child I dropped off in kindergarten, big innocent brown eyes as he asked, “What do you mean you won't see me for a while…?” I ran my hand through his hair again with a hum, “to keep you hidden away, people are going to think you’re dead, so I wont be here anymore, if you were dead that means I don’t have a place here anymore. So I'll be leaving until Gojo decides when’s a good time for you to come out of hiding.” I watched his downcast eyes, the slight pout on his face as he looked down in thought, “You won't forget me?” I smiled, shaking lightly as I laughed, “You said that same thing when I first left you in kindergarten, you know.” He smiled as I hugged him by my side, “Call me if you need anything alright?” He nodded leaning into my side, “I love you.” I rubbed his arm and shoulder offering comfort, he nodded along, mumbling back, “I love you too.” I smiled as I pulled away, “Be good then.” He smiled nodding as I turned to Gojo, “Take care of my Yuji.” Gojo just smiled holding up a hand the other tucked behind his back. “Of course Miss.L/N, I'll make sure he’s better than you left him.” I nodded turning to Morí, he closed his eyes nodding, “Lead the way Lady Y/n” I started to walk out ready to pack up and leave, but a part of me wanted to stay, leaving now would mean, leaving my son and my husband. I swallowed, feeling the weight on my chest, ignoring it as I pushed myself to go. I pulled my Kimono tighter as we walked to the small house where we had been staying. I passed the two kids, Megumi Fushiguro and Nobara Kugisaki, who were sitting on the steps of the building. I turned to Morí who looked at them also, he turned his face away knowing it wasn’t our place to say anything. We took the further steps, passing them to not interrupt whatever conversation they could be having.

We made it to the house, packing what few things we had brought. Time passed slowly as we made progress until there was a knock at the door. I looked at the door not sensing anything unfamiliar as I slid it open. There was Fushiguro Megumi. I was concerned to see him staring straight down at the floor with a dead expression, before I spoke up. “Fushiguro Megumi.” He looked up, almost sympathetic, it was then I understood what it was about. I nodded along to the silence. “There was nothing you could have done, there are times where fate cant be altered, you shouldn’t hold yourself to fault, I hold no anger against you Fushiguro Megumi, nor against Satoru Gojo.” The silence hung heavy as I watched him clench his jaw and fists. The distress was clear over his face as I took a breath, to think of what I should do or say, I settled for the only way I knew how, I pulled him into a hug, using hand to guide his head to rest against my shoulder and chest holding him there, my other hand on his back as I whispered, “Forgive me Fushiguro Megumi, I can heal the body, but I can't repair a broken heart.”

I felt how he held onto my Kimono. I stood there. I had learned long ago with Yuji when he was a child, when someone desperately needs to be held, especially children, you should never pull away until they let go when they feel more stable. I patted and rubbed his back in circles, consoling him as he held on in silence. Time passed and I watched the sky slowly fade to orange, when he pulled away, I put my hands on his shoulders as he avoided looking at my face. I brought one hand to his chin, lifting his face, holding his cheek in one hand. I looked at him with a soft smile running my thumb over his cheek. “You will be alright in time.”

—- —- —- —- —-

The days were long and quiet as I spent the days in the temple working miracles and healing people. Donations flooding in by gratitude by those who’ve been suffering and finally found healing. I hummed, running my hands over a pregnant woman’s stomach, “Ah your sons so lively, I can feel him kicking.” She smiled “this is the first time in a while he’s been really moving.” I hummed with a soft smile, using my reverse cursed technique, I could sense where the muscles around her womb were tearing, carefully mending the muscles back together I hummed content hearing her sigh in relief. “It really feels like the stress and burning in my stomach has calmed down, do you know what it was?” I nodded slowly moving my hands off her stomach, ‘I’m not sure how your doctor didn’t catch it, but I’m assuming you’ve had a surgery where they needed to cut through muscle, where they mended the muscled was tearing open, its what was causing so much pain, the burning sensation was where the muscle was pulling and tearing bit by bit.” I watched her eyes widen, I smiled sympathetically nodding, “It’s all better now, you’ll be fine, even with time it shouldn’t raise up any problem”

I left the room after she thanked me, I walked around the back halls, lost in thought, not to be caught up in the day, I passed it healing people, until a certain man walked right into the private chambers.

I turned, it was obvious alone by his cursed energy, I watched him as he smiled, eyes closed and hands tucked into his sleeves. He pulled a hand out waving, I watched him, not too interested, but more concerned how he made it in without being stopped.

”Y/n.” His voice was smooth and unsettling just as any other life, “Kenjaku” we stared at one another, his head tilted down, he looked at me with lidded eyes, I could feel the heat of my emotion rising. “What are you doing here?”

”Well, I’m pretty sure it's obvious, it wouldn’t be the first time we cross paths now would it? Now, if I'm not wrong I'm pretty sure somewhere along the line we had a conversation similar to this, are you still so set on doing things your way?”

I watched how you stood there, thinking of what to say, “I’m not siding with your ideals, I could never support someone who could do things as vile as you did when you were experimenting with humans. We stand on uneven ground, there will never be a day we see eye to eye, there will never be a day where I would even think of standing on your level”

The room wasn’t tense, we both knew where we stood, we both knew the other couldn’t be swayed, there was no reason to argue or get hostile.

”hmm” I listened intently, not willing to let anything slip by, “Well, if you're so set in your decision I suppose I'll only be generous to make my offer once everything moves closer to the end line.”

I swallowed, nodding, “I doubt I’ll take your offer even then, we'll just have to see who stands where.”

The silence in the room remained the same, we stood there staring at the other, a silent conversation, where everything that needed to be said was said, I watched a wicked grin move over his lips head tilting forward slightly, “Well then, we will just have to stand back and see how everything plays out then.”

—- —- —- —- —-

Once again the days passed slowly, I knelt at the shrine in my room at the temple, lighting incense as I mumbled in vain, Sukuna would never be able to hear me this way, but it brought a sense of comfort as I bowed my head to an old painting i had set on the shrine table. “Ryomen…, please, please, if at any point in time, you hear these words please, I beg whatever plans you have with Kenjaku, don’t see them through.”

I begged internally, feeling my heart shaking in my chest, “Please.”

I stood up, turning to go on with the day, the day was just as slow as any other, until I felt a stab in my ribs, I tensed up, Morí who was with me didn’t let it go by unmentioned as he was quick to drop everything. “LADY Y/N! Are you alright?!” I leaned onto him feeling the stinging pain subside before it came back again. “We need to go, I need to see Itadori”

Mori looked up at me confused as he supported my side, “Lady Y/n Satoru Gojo said we shou-MORI,” I looked at him in desperation, “Please, I know something is wrong, this is just like last time, Please.”

The silence that settled between us wasn’t tense, but we knew the decision was made. It was quick work of Mori grasping his hands together and giving me a weary look before he spoke a small chant activating his technique.

It was an instant of standing behind the school, there was Satoru gojo and others looking at a veil, I didn’t bother to stay around immediately setting off to find Yuji, this isn’t about anyone else if not my son. Mori was right behind me as we made haste tracking Sukuna’s faint cursed energy in Yuji.

We made it to the dead forest, a tall grey curse with a bloom on its shoulder, I didn’t see Yuji, I held up a hand ready to unleash an attack until something came crashing down knocking it out the way.

“Yuji!” There was a moment of silence, that’s when everything came into place, the special grade curse, Yuji standing to side, a more built man beside him, the veil darkened sky starting to drop when I felt the attack coming, I rushed over to Yuji shielding him as a purple wave rammed through everything clearing a path.

I held on tight to Yuji, keeping him close to my chest until it completely passed. I let him go, stepping back to look at him as I held him by his shoulders at arms length. “Yuji! Are you okay?” I felt my heart still racing as I looked over at him, he smiled rubbing the back of his head. “Yeah! I’m fine mom!” I sighed relieved, “Yuji, thank goodness you're okay, I was SO SCARED, I turned to look at the other guy who was standing not to far off, he seemed proud as he stood by watching, before he squinted at me looking uneasy as he asked, “Who are you?”

I felt my brows drop slightly as I let go of Yuji turning to the boy, “I should be asking who you are.” He seemed amused as he laughed, closing his eyes as he brought a hand to his chin as if he were thinking. “What an excitable woman.” I made a face shaking my head no as I turned to Yuji, he smiled. “This is Toudo.” I nodded along, “I see.”

I nodded along, turning back to Toudo, “well, it's nice to meet you Toudo, but don’t call me an excitable woman, I'm not too sure my husband would appreciate that. But, my name is L/n F/n, I’m Yuji’s mother.”

I watched as Toudo opened his eyes, a smile on his face, “My brothers, mother.” I nodded slowly thinking over what he had said. “Brothers….mother.. brother?” I turned to Yuji curious, “What’s this about?”

Yuji perked up, “Oh, it's kinda confusing, Toudo actually helped me understand a few things I’ve been struggling with, he says we’re brothers…”

I nodded along, “I see…”

—- —- —- —- —-

Authors Note

I really wanted to go with the Canon time line, but the more I type the more I realize it would be ridiculously long. So- time to create alternate time line so everyone can be happy 🥹

also Sukuna is very much Husband material after I read the last chapter

—- —- —- —- —-

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[llxferim]

a/n: first post! i have a lot of ideas rn so i’ll prolly post ton of fics and then make a small masterlist! please excuse my english, its not my first language😭. (this is not proofread) (this fic is actual shit😃)

pairing: Klaus Hargreeves x reader

Summary: after a long day with Diego, you go back to the Hargreeves mansion, only to find Klaus passed out drunk. you help him get cleaned up, as always.

Genre: fluff/comfort (maybe angst?)

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, Klaus is drunk or high or both, idk, gender neutral reader, no y/n used, he/they Klaus.

Word Count: 1.2k

You and Diego had been out looking for the Two people who kidnapped Klaus and murdered Patch to no avail. you gave up and returned to the mansion since it was getting dark. Diego dropped you off at the house, but he said he would keep looking for a little while and drove off.

you were worried about Klaus, getting kidnapped and tortured isn’t easy to deal with, even for him. everyone thinks since he is so unserious all the time, these things don’t bother him, but you were the closest thing to him growing up, and he is as emotional as a little kid.

you didn’t even have a chance to talk to him when he escaped the kidnappers, since Diego dragged you away right when he got back.

you open the front door to the Hargreeves mansion. it was dark and quiet, as always. so you thought everybody else was out doing god knows what.

you take off your coat, leaving the warmth behind with it and started walking to the bathroom to wash up and finally get some rest.

you were just about to open the door when your foot hit something- no someone, you look down to check, and there he was, with his smudged eyeliner and wet hair. “Klaus!?”

you crouched to his eye level, getting the hair out of his face “heyy it’s my favorite personn!” he slurred, you could hear how drunk he was. “How long have you been here? are you okay? where are the-“ you start panicking before a hand comes up to your mouth, silencing you. “too loud” he whispers.

“you reek of alcohol, Klaus. how much did you drink?” you say getting their hand off your mouth but forgetting to let go. “about.. 4” he blurts out “Four what, Klaus?” “bottles..” he says.

“fucking hell… come on” you say as you pinch the bridge of your nose. you put their left arm over your shoulders for support and pull him to his feet. “where are we going?” he groaned, the last thing he wanted right now was to walk. “we..” you let out a breath, he definitely wasn't lightweight. “..are going to clean you up”

“call out when you’re done” you say as you close the bathroom door behind you and sit down in the same spot Klaus was sitting minutes ago.

taking care of him after they relapsed or got too drunk wasn’t new to you. the others eventually got tired of him coming back to the house barely alive every night, that they stopped caring.

you never did though, you always took care of him, no matter how many times he came back high. you supported him when he was trying to stay clean, and comforted him when he relapsed. it was tiring, yes, but you cared about him, a lot.

you remember the day Reggie brought you from your parents, you were just 10 years old and scared shitless, your parents had just sold you to a strange man.

when you first arrived at the Umbrella Academy, everyone ignored you, they all had jobs to do.

but Klaus, with his big stupid smile, came up to you, and put his arm over your shoulder. “wanna see my room?”. it wasn’t really a question since he immediately started dragging you upstairs, supposedly to their room.

when Reggie forced you to practice your powers every night instead of sleeping, Klaus was the one that helped you. he slipped a sleeping pill in Reggie’s Coffee, giving you time to escape with him. after that, where there was Klaus, so were you.

after you all grew up, you and Klaus still stayed in touch but not as much as you did when you were kids, but, Reginald’s death brought you all back together.

“can you walk?” you asked Klaus, who was now dressed and clean, but still a little wobbly. “i think so” he replied but almost fell after taking the very first step. “okay, no i can’t walk” he groaned as he leaned onto you for support. “yeah, thought so. you’re like a toddler taking his first steps.” you chuckled. then, you feel a little pinch on your shoulder “hey! what was that for?” you protest “my misery is not funny!” they teased, trying his best to look angry. “oh, shut up” you muttered and pushed them a little with your hip.

You helped Klaus to his room, the door creaking open as you both stepped inside. The room, dimly lit by a bedside lamp, was a mess of discarded clothes and scattered posters that were supposed to be hanging on the wall.

Klaus staggered slightly, but you guided him to his bed, where he collapsed with a groan of relief. “oh, my sweet bed, how i have missed you” You sat down next to him, the weight of the day settling on your shoulders.

“are the others here?” you asked, your worry not quite fading. “no idea” Klaus replied, his voice muffled. “you didn’t even check if they were here? they could have helped you, you know” you said, frustration seeping into your voice. You still couldn’t shake the worry that something terrible might have happened.

“i’m fine aren’t i? you got here on time.” he sat up to face you. “Well, what if I hadn’t?” you countered. “You’re not immortal, Klaus! What would I have done if something happened to you?” hiding your face with your hands out of frustration.

Klaus’s eyes softened, and he reached out, gently pulling your hands away. “Hey, hey, I’m fine, okay? I’m sorry, I should have at least called someone. But I swear, I’m fine.” they tried to calm you down, if anyone, he was the one that could.

You felt your eyes tearing up. “Shit—” you tried to laugh it off and wipe away the tears, when suddenly you felt a pair of lips against yours. The kiss was soft and tentative at first, as if Klaus was unsure whether it was the right thing to do. But the warmth of his touch and the sincerity behind it made your heart race.

You hesitated for a moment, caught off guard by the suddenness, but soon you melted into the kiss, your lips responding to his with equal tenderness. The world outside seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of you.

then you pulled away, Klaus looked at your puzzled face “i’m, uh i’m sorry-“

But you cut him off with a reassuring smile. “No—no, don’t apologize.” You chuckled softly, your eyes sparkling with affection. “As much as I want to enjoy this moment, Klaus, you’re still drunk.”

Before you could say more, he suddenly pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you with warmth. The faint smell of alcohol lingered, but you didn’t mind.

“You still reek of alcohol, you know,” you teased, a playful grin on your face.

“Shut up,” Klaus murmured, his voice muffled against your shoulder. “We’re having a moment here.”

[httpknjoon]

(re)starting over again | kth; 11

plot | Your four-year relationship with Taehyung was going well and strong. Until he was involved in a car accident, resulting to him losing some memories. By some, it means everything that happened five years ago. Things he remember? His friends, his bakeshop, and his ex girlfriend from the past. With that, you tried to keep up, restarting over again.

words | 2.8k

genres | fluff, angst, amnesia au

pairing | taehyung x reader

warning/s | -

note | AAAAND WE'RE BACK! it's been a month since the last update! consider this as a new season for mc and tae :)) u might find this chapter a little fast-paced or not idk.. let me know ur thoughts! enjoy reading <;3 ps. sorry for the errors!

main masterlist | series masterlist

A couple of years passed, two to be exact, and a lot of things happened. The bakery became more crowded. It was renovated and had a larger space instead of moving the entire bakery to another place. They began hiring extra help, usually part-time working students who used to be customers in the shop too. 

Also, turns out that Jimin has a kid. Taehyung met Jihoon just a week after his best friend learned about his existence. Jihoon is a carbon copy of his dad, Taehyung thought. His eyes disappear when he smiles. Now, they have a little baker running around the kitchen usually on weekends.

Aside from those changes, Taehyung now lives in a studio apartment just a five-minute walk away from the bakery. He moved in just weeks after you left. The said apartment is not that big, just enough for him to rest in after work. Jimin commented that he treats that place like a hotel since Taehyung didn’t really personalize it to make the ambiance like a home. The whole place was plain, not even considered minimalist. Just plain. The walls were untouched. It was off-white when Taehyung came and it remains the same now. He didn’t really bother to invest anything in the place.

The house you two bought and lived in is still being taken care of. By him. Taehyung cleans up there once a week, just in case you reach out to visit home again and maybe talk about what to do with it. And when he feels like it, which is almost rare, he sleeps on the couch in the living room. He never really entered the guest room, which became your bedroom after the accident, except the time he got home after Jisoo and Namjoon’s wedding. That room was spotless, just like how you left it. The only things you left that night were on your vanity table; your house keys, the vintage pearl ring he bought you back in the flea market, and a folded paper.

The letter says, “Feel at home, this house is yours too. Paint the walls with the colors you like, buy new furniture, and fill the frames with new memories. Just please don’t sell it. I’ll try to reach out as soon as I can. For now, live the last years you missed.”

He never painted the walls with another color as he found the shade of blue that spreads around the house perfect. He never bought any furniture and still kept the same ones you had. He thought it fit the theme of the house and his preference. And yes, the picture frames show the same photos they originally had. It felt home that way for him. But he chose to move to the apartment because he always felt like he was missing something. The house is cozy and comfortable. But whenever he tries to lie on supposedly his bed, it feels empty. Once, he tried playing jazz music around the house, but it just got lonelier so he turned it off and just continued cleaning.

But he did try to keep up and look back at the things he forgot through his friends and the things he found at the house. Jimin, Namjoon, and sometimes Jisoo were patient with his questions. Jisoo, your best friend, was understandably distant from him at first after you went away. But she adds details to the stories Namjoon tells and later, became amiable with him. Jimin’s mom still looks after him and brings him food when she visits the city. There were a few times she mentioned Taehyung’s mother but he didn’t really care about her. So he ignores it.

“You know, you’re a handsome man. Don’t you have any lady?”

One of their common customer, a man in his seventies once asked him. It was not the first time someone asked him such a thing. He always shakes his head with a smile as an answer. It would lead later with an offer to meet someone they know. Taehyung would shyly and kindly decline these offers, saying he really doesn’t feel like dating for now. It’s true. The idea of him dating someone else felt wrong. It was like his own body rejected the idea as he felt uneasy with that thought.

“So, it’s that time of the year.”

Taehyung was pulling his third pan of cheesecake out of the hot oven with his oven gloves when he heard Ava, their longtime part-time staff, say that. She sounded amused but not surprised. He looked up and saw her leaning on the door frame with her arms crossed. She had a smug smile on her face. 

“I swear, you should just declare this particular day as Cheesecake and Banana Bread Day just to make it official,” she added, teasing.

Taehyung looked at her, unimpressed, “It’s selling. In fact, my cheesecakes are one of our best sellers here… What are you doing here anyway? Go back to the front.”

He scolds her, she just rolled her eyes, unbothered.  Ava was one of the students who knew Taehyung even before his accident. She went from being a loyal customer to a reliable staff of the shop. She has been enjoying the pastries in the shop ever since she was twelve and now, sixteen, she also enjoys getting into small banters with her older bosses. She is usually candid, and not shy to share her thoughts. Taehyung sees her as a little sister most time.

Given that she began working here after you left, Ava doesn’t really have an idea why Taehyung bakes a few batches of cheesecake and banana loaves on this specific date. She doesn’t know you and that you are celebrating your birthday today. Taehyung learned about that fact after his phone notified him weeks after you went. Since then, he has baked your favorites on your special day. 

It’s the third time now. It’s probably a slim chance but he hoped to see you around the bakeshop, enjoying pastries. But so far, he hasn’t seen you around. In fact, he hadn’t even heard from you ever since that night. He thought he saw you a year ago in the subway when he came to Incheon to go sightseeing, but he lost you before he could take a second glance. He didn’t know where you moved since he respects your space but he wondered if you really moved that far. He wonders about you every now and then. 

Jisoo posted a short clip in her Instagram Stories months ago. It’s just a clip of a long trail and he swore he heard you in the background noise of that clip, telling your best friend how tired you are from hiking. Then, the clip ended.

“Not because it’s best selling you would make a ton of it. It’s something about demand and supply– I don’t know,” she conceded, breaking Taehyung’s train of thought. “Anyway, I’m here because someone called on the phone, asking for you.”

Taehyung’s heart stopped for a second. His hopes almost blasted out of his soul but he tried to stay calm before asking Ava, “Who is it?”

“I don’t know. But it’s a woman. They said they want to specifically talk to you.” she replied, unaware that the man in front of him was holding his breath. She continued, “They are actually waiting on call right now.”

Taehyung almost sprinted to the front desk of the shop. Still in his mint green oven gloves, he reached for the telephone. His heart is beating fast while his gut is twisting tight. He paused when he realized he had nothing to say. He doesn’t know what to say if it’s you. Are you going to talk about the house? Should he greet you with Happy Birthday first and offer you your favorite cheesecake? Maybe you won’t like– Stop.

Taehyung took a deep breath before exhaling. He spoke, “Hello, this is Kim Taehyung, co-owner of The Sweet Spot. How can I help you?”

“Oh, hi.” 

His heart dropped. Okay, relax. He told himself. It’s not you.

There were nights when Taehyung would find himself awake. And tonight is one of those nights. He just lay on his bed, staring at the blank ceiling. He always had trouble falling asleep, maybe a side effect of his accident. He doesn’t know anymore. But he knows that it makes his head go crazy with random thoughts when times like this happen. And now, he thought of something.

That’s when he picked up his phone and keys, along with his coat. He drove away from his apartment. 

The bell above the door rang when he entered the convenience store to pick up a few beers and chips. His cold hands stayed in his coat’s pockets as he looked around the store, waiting for the clerk to scan his stuff. Just when the worker was about to say the prince, the bell clung again.

“No, wait. I’m just really hungry. Wait for me… Yes, I have money here.”

Everything went quiet and suddenly all that he could hear was that voice. Your voice. He’s sure of that. He looked back and saw a woman’s back going into one of the aisles. His heart raced once again. You’re here?

“Dude, you okay?” the tired clerk asked, looking at him with heavy bags under his eyes.

Taehyung looked at him, and broke out of his headspace, “Yeah, yeah. I’m sorry.”

He pulled out his cash and paid. He can still hear your voice like you were talking with someone on your phone.

“Do you want anything– Oh, the honey-butter chips I want ran out of stock.”

Taehyung looked at the chips in his hand. He looked at the clerk who also looked at him like they understood each other without saying anything. Taehyung placed the chip back on the counter.

“Just give this to the girl,” he whispered before turning his back.

He didn’t look back. A cool blow of wind brushed on his face when he walked out the door. For a second, he inhaled and exhaled again to calm his nerves. He got in his car, putting the pack of beer on the other seat. As he started the car, his eyes landed on the side mirror. 

Yes, it’s you. Definitely.

You just walked out of the same store, still on your phone, as you walked away grinning with your honey butter chips. You walked on the other end of the pathwalk. Taehyung pursed his lips and drove away.

His lips remained sealed but his head was exploding with questions. That was the closest he had seen you since the night you said goodbye. How are you? Why are you in the city? Did you live around here? It can’t be. Jisoo told him you left the hospital you used to work at. 

Instead of driving back to his apartment, Taehyung ended up parking in front of your deserted house. He had his beer with him as he turned the key on the doorknob. He stepped into the said home feeling colder even though he still hadn’t removed his coat.  He placed the drink on the center table in the living room and plugged in the TV for background noise. He put on a random show, which happens to be FRIENDS. 

Opening a can, he sat on the couch, pulling a couple of books he left under the same table. Photo albums and scrapbooks. You never told him such things exist in here, he just found them after cleaning around the house. It was personalized by you and him. He could tell by the design and handwritten captions. 

Almost everything was documented through photos and other knick knacks like receipts from a movie you two saw together. Browsing through the pages of it, it felt like looking at other people’s relationships even though he was in the photos himself. In one of the photos, he saw himself with a camera. He didn’t even know he had one. He tried searching around the house for it but he never found it. 

You had more solo portraits in the said books than him. He figured out why. Maybe he really loved capturing you as his subject. You looked the same in every picture: happy and in love. Most of your pictures were candid, taken without you knowing. Then, a handwritten date by him will be seen below it. Each photo was adorable. Some are just random ones. You were brushing your teeth or showing off your colorful scrubs (which was written in the caption: BOUGHT HER YELLOW DUCKIES SCRUBS I THINK SHE LIKES IT).

Taehyung spend his sleepless nights like this, looking back at what he missed. He read through articles before that the possibility of getting his memories back is a hit or miss. So he learned to just go on and maybe accept how things became. He tries to move forward at the same time he tries to look back. It’s quite confusing sometimes.

IT’S HER… I’M SURE 

That was the caption in one photo of you dating just weeks after you two moved into this house. In the picture, your back was turned as you sat in front of your vanity table. You can be seen fixing your hair while looking at your reflection. Taehyung’s eyebrow raised with the caption. He wondered what it meant. He turned the page to the next one but was greeted with nothing but a blank page. Turns out, that was the most recent one.

“The main branch of their restaurant is somewhere in Incheon. I’ll send you the address after the call.” 

Taehyung listened to Jimin through a loudspeaker call. His hair is still damp from a shower. Standing in front of the mirror, he compares two coats that would suit the rest of his outfit. He felt the need to look presentable tonight.

“You will meet the owner herself, Ashley. She said you can just introduce yourself to the host and he’ll lead you to your table… Ava kept the samples in the shop. She said she put them in different Tupperware so you can spot it right away.” Jimin instructed.

“Okay, okay.”

He heard his best friend sigh on the other line, “I’m sorry for the short notice, Tae. I totally forgot Jihoon will be staying with me tonight.”

Tonight, Taehyung will be meeting a special client. It’s the one who called a couple of weeks ago, during your birthday. it‘s a big restaurant that is planning to put the bakeshop’s products on their menu for dessert. Specifically, the cakes. The head chef was the one who brought up their product to the owner, whom he will meet now. Jimin initially agreed to meet the said client but his co-parenting schedule had some shifts. Just an hour ago, Taehyung learned he’d be the one meeting the client. It’s not like he had plans anyway. So, he immediately prepared himself.

After picking the clothes, Taehyung blow-dried and brushed his hair. His best friend sent the main address minutes later and so he left his apartment. He first drove by the shop, which closed a little earlier today. A lot of cakes were made for sample. It includes Jimin’s Carrot Cake, his own cheesecake, and six other more. Taehyung left with a brown bag of the samples.

His fingers tapped with the beat of the song playing on the radio as he drove his way to the restaurant. It was a peaceful night on the road. 

This will be the first time Taehyung will be going back to Incheon since that time he went sightseeing. He stayed there for just three days before, it was days after his phone notified him about your supposedly fifth anniversary. His emotions were all over the place because of the aftermath and the demanding work in the bakeshop around that time. So he asked Jimin for a very short break. He still hasn’t got a car then so he took the subway throughout the whole time. It was during his last day there when he saw a glimpse of you in the crowded subways of that city. He remembered you were in your scrubs, your hair was cleanly kept in a low bun, and you were walking opposite of his direction. Then, he blinked. You were gone in the crowded place.

“Good evening, sir.”

Almost forty minutes later, Taehyung arrived at the restaurant, Starry Night. He was greeted by the host as he entered the elegant place. It has a great ambiance, romantic. It is a fine-dining restaurant and seems like a perfect spot for dinner dates. 

He said his name when he was asked.  And while the man looked down at his guest list, Taehyung’s eyes traveled around the place. And not even a minute in, his eyes stopped at someone who he felt had been staring at him.

His eyes widened at the sight. A stunning woman, clad in a black dress, stares back at him with surprise. His mouth ran dry, he had to gulp. Now, he’s sure. He’s sure.

It’s you.

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RESTARTING OVER AGAIN TAGLIST [🔧🔨 ]

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[noxturnals-void]

My Dearest Shadow

Jason Voorhees x GN! Reader

Pt. 1

(It might lean fem at times but I’m going to try my best to keep it neutral for everyone!)

I don’t know how many parts there will be so just hold on for the ride. ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Tw: stalking, anxiety, paranoia, jason shenanigans

2,311 words below the cut

You had renovated a little house your father had told you about, one you didn't even know existed two years ago. You spent lots of time fixing it up, lots of money, and tireless days doing the work by hand, and still, you weren't done. Thankfully, most of the difficult, labor-intensive parts were handled with the help of a few hired people.

Supposedly, the house lying on the outskirts of a small town in New Jersey had been abandoned for the past 20 years, belonging to some old couple before they moved into another state and left the place to rot when no one wanted to buy the house because of some superstition about the land. It went up on the market after they died and sold for 50,000. It was a concerningly low price that your house-flipping father had taken advantage of.

He hadn't even visited the property in the years he had owned it, let alone told you about it until you mentioned wanting to set up a little getaway spot on the east coast. He had told you the details, and you decided it was exactly what you needed—a new project to focus your energy on. But you were woefully unprepared for the beast of a job you'd just signed yourself up for.

A year and a half was much longer than you had intended to spend fixing this 1000-square-foot cabin cottage, but it was well worth it. It was a beautiful location, nestled right into a vast landscape of dense, private forest with a breathtaking lake view partially in the kitchen and living room windows- a 10-minute walk away. When the sun hit just right in the mornings, it was like a fairytale. A golden bath of warm, welcoming rays wakes you up better than any cup of coffee could ever.

You'd finally gotten in all of the furniture you wanted, having to space out the hauls between a few months at a time. The house was built for one or a singular couple. There was a small porch, redone with fresh wood and a chair set on the front for guilty pleasure moments outside in the late morning or early evenings. Walking into the cabin, you were put immediately into the living room- two chairs positioned apart and pointing toward a smaller flat-screen television tucked away in the corner of the room on a low shelf for your collection of films.

Even with just you living there, the two different chairs were comforting- one more rough, textured, and firm and the other plush and soft, letting you choose depending on what you'd rather sit on to binge a show or movie for the night. To the other side of the room was the entryway to the kitchen, an open-concept attempt at a cozy space. The bedroom was on the other side of the living room wall, housing your queen-sized mattress and more personal furniture and belongings. There was a short hallway leading to the utility closet with the newer models of washers and dryers, which you could get your hands on for less money, and your newly renovated bathroom.

Lots of the house seemed to have gone with age. Things like the kitchen and bathroom floors had to be pulled up and replaced, everything deep cleaned twice over for good measure, and lots of rounds with exterminators and pest control; the first few months paid off in the long run. Admittedly, you felt bad for killing the tiny creatures. They were just trying to find shelter in the large ecosystem at your doorstep.

You'd managed to get a shower and bathtub combo in the more narrow bathroom; glad to have both options when you felt like it. The house already had surprisingly high ceilings, and you didn't mind that the shower head was a bit out of reach because of its design. A little color coordination here and there and most of the cottage was done up in shades of deep, calming, and comforting greens and blues with lighter accenting greys to keep it not so claustrophobic.

Most of your focus went to the outside of the house now. Finished with most of the inside work, you could now turn your detail-oriented self to the withered outside. With some much-needed love and care, you hoped to fix the paint job into a lovely grey blue and pick up some new windows to replace the old and cracked ones you'd been having trouble with.

Really, it should have occurred to you sooner to repair them, but you'd gotten yourself too busy with too many things at once staring out, and you'd put it off for far too long. Last winter had been a nightmare because of those stupid cracked panes, and you were definitely not about to live through that mistake again.

You'd just gotten the garden sorted out. It was something you'd planned for since the beginning, but you had to put a lot of elbow grease into making it work. You had picked up the bulk of the materials last week, including the young plants and seeds you'd needed, along with the mulch and moist dirt.

Now, you were on your knees, elbow-deep in fresh, damp dirt, making shallow holes for the seeds. You sat back, breathing in and sighing out.

It was a lovely day today despite getting a later start than you wanted. The air was crisp and cool, about 60 degrees out today. It was supposed to get chilly the next few weeks and then warm back up before the end of fall. Then came all the rain and possible snow.

You weren't used to the weather of New Jersey yet, but honestly, it was a nice change from California. It didn't really get cold until January, and summers could get pretty hot, but it rained, and the rain was always welcome, in your opinion. It was nice to get snowy Christmases, too. It reminded you of northern Cali, so tree-populated and the air so intensely fresh, that you had to admit it was nice to get away from the city life for a while.

This little adventure had opened your eyes to many things you were missing- yourself included. You'd never spent so much time alone, at least not since childhood. You'd always had friends, roommates, and a busy college life or cityscape to keep you preoccupied. Out here, it was just you, the weekly check-in from your father, the homely woods, the picturesque lake, and... whoever had been living around here watching you.

You'd seen the shape of someone lingering around a few times. At first, you brushed it off. Working hard every day had its downsides, and you thought you were just way too tired to see it properly. It was probably just a deer or something, you convinced yourself.

But after the first month, you couldn't ignore it anymore—the feeling of eyes on you when you walked past some windows, the other presence as you walked through some of the nearby woods. It was always quiet, though, and truthfully, you'd never seen whoever it was close enough to convince yourself fully.

When you'd mentioned it to your father about six months into living here, he'd told you that you must have been paranoid. There was no way anyone lived that far away from the tight-knit town, which was 30 minutes away. The whole forest, including the old camp he had never mentioned before, had been abandoned for years.

You took it upon yourself the next day to walk to Camp Crystal Lake. It took a while, and again, you felt eyes scanning you, searching you for something, or maybe just dissecting you under its gaze. You tried to shake it off, but it didn't help to ignore it. You often scanned through the trees to find the owner of the eyes, but each time, you found nothing. You began to worry that maybe the isolation had been affecting you differently than you thought. Perhaps you had been paranoid over nothing. Maybe you'd been alone out here too long.

You didn't spend long at the neglected campsite. Honestly, it felt wrong to be trespassing in the first place, especially when you had no reason to be there besides foolish curiosity. Many of the cabins looked incredibly run down, the wood rotting and falling away and the forest taking over much of the paths and steps of the place. You had your fill of satisfied curiosity after just an hour of poking around, finding strange things you didn't expect. Notably, some belongings that were from probable teenagers who'd visited. It wasn't surprising to think kids would dare each other to spend the night since it looked so creepy in the first place.

You should've gone straight home, but you felt drawn to the lake. Admittedly, you hadn't visited as much as you wanted. You went down to the pier of the lake, walking out to the far end and taking in the clearer view of the lake against the beginnings of a sunset. It was beautiful, and you almost thought about watching the sun go down but decided against it when you realized you had no light to try to walk back to the house. That and the idea of walking through those woods with those unwavering eyes still on you the entire way made a chill go up your spine.

You got home soon after that, just before dark, yet even in your own house, it was hard to shake the feeling of being watched. Not just by windows anymore, all the time... The second you stepped outside, the eyes followed your every move. It made it hard to live normally until winter came. The feeling of being observed 24/7 stopped completely for the few weeks it got into the tens and twenties, which was an even more unsettling thought.

Maybe it had been a real person, and it was just too cold for them to linger and creep on you. You hadn't forgotten about the campsite or the eyes that stuck to you for a while afterward. But it still made it unsettling when the feeling started up again in early spring.

Part of you was weirded out that you never felt entirely alone, but as the weeks went on, it was almost more of a... comfort. Whatever it was- whoever it was had never harmed you, and the stare it gave off didn't feel dangerous. It almost felt curious, maybe protective? Something out there in the woods was watching you, yes, but it was also watching over you.

You'd had the odd few occasions of falling asleep in random places and waking up in entirely different places. It only happened twice, and you were careful that it wouldn't happen again. You’d been dreadfully tired that particular week, and the physical labor of building a deck by hand had taken its toll on you. You'd fallen asleep outside on the halfway constructed porch drinking tea the first time, trying to keep yourself awake long enough not to mess up your sleep schedule. It didn’t work. You later awoke in your living room, a thin blanket pulled over your legs.

It freaked you out at first—the idea that someone had moved you and been inside your house. But after a thorough, slightly panicked search through the cottage and realizing no one was around and nothing was touched besides, well, you—and your now cold cup of tea—you calmed down. You mulled over it for the rest of the week, not understanding why whoever it was had decided to take care of you like that.

The second time wasn't as much of an accident; you'd fallen asleep outside again a little more intentionally than before. You simply tested if it were to happen again. It did. You woke up again on the chair with a blanket, the same as before, but this time, you were noticeably less clean than when you’d fallen asleep.

Whoever it was left fingerprints of dirt on your waist and thighs where they had picked you up and carried you. Most of your clothing on one side was significantly grime-coated, and that was enough to make you decide not to try it again.

You wiped your brow with the back of your arm and finished up planting all of the seeds you wanted. You were saving some to plant next spring in case these didn't make it through the winter, just to be safe. You got to your feet, wiping your hands down your dirt-covered jeans and huffed, stretching out your sore back. As you did, a twig snapped, and you froze in place, wondering whether or not to turn around toward the tree line behind you.

In normal circumstances, you would have checked immediately, figuring it might have been an animal. But you felt those eyes on you, those same eyes that had followed your every move for the last year and a half. Your paranoia got the better of you now, and the idea of seeing whoever had been watching you this entire time made your stomach turn to mush.

Your eagerness got the better of you, and you turned around despite the loud thumping in your chest. There was nothing at first as you searched through the closest trees. A figure quickly moved to the side at the edge of your vision- a very large figure. You gulped, scanning the tree line and focusing on a thick tree trunk hiding the person well. Whoever they were, they were most definitely right there, and to your knowledge, this was the closest encounter you'd had with them while awake.

You tried to think of something to say, pondering if you should have said anything at all in this tense moment.

What were you supposed to do…?

[sadesluvr]

Hello, new here! I first found you through your William Afton fics and LOVED THEM!! Especially the one with ghost reader, that was a fun one (which kinda inspired me for this ask)

If it's alright, I would like to request a movie William Afton scenario, with again some crazy supernatural elements, where the reader is kind of a shape-shifter/metamorph. The best part is the animal form the reader and shift into is a rabbit!!

Whether platonic or romantic fluff (although I kinda want to see platonic the most), whichever you decide, I was thinking of a scenario where the reader was exploring the rural/forest areas outside of the city when they spot the abandoned pizzeria, get curiouse and go to investigate. But coincidentally, William is there doing some killings from recent intruders trashing the place. And before they can be caught they shift, so Will only finds a supposedly small abandoned domestic rabbit that found its way here. He's taking it home :). Reader is freaking out. And maybe after a little while, however you chose, Will discovers the rabbit being the reader and secret of being a shape shifter and surprised.

You can continue it however you wish.

A/N: Hey, I’m glad you like my work! Thanks for the ask and being patient - This is more of a drabble/list of headcanons bc it was easier for me to write :)

William isn’t really a pet kind of guy. Vanessa had a fish and a rabbit, but since she grew out of it he’s never felt the need for an animal companion

Still, he takes you home because something about you reminds him of his past- both good and bad

He puts you in a random box that’s filled with spare parts, hoping he doesn’t have to wash more blood from his hands since there’s a few blunt nails and hums on his way back

You, on the other hand, are worried. You won’t be able to get home, and you’ve seen what he’s capable of

You’re shy at first - you don’t eat, and rub away from pets

But he’s actually rather kind to you - he leaves out water and spare veggies. He doesn’t have a hutch at first but makes sure your shoebox is clean and padded with blankets

Eventually you start roaming around the house and opening up to him. He’s totally chill as you watch him make sandwiches for work and stuff, and he even starts talking to you. It’s actually kind of wholesome given the fact you met him murdering someone….

When he’s out, you shower and go back to doing your regular human stuff. Once, his neighbour almost caught you standing by a window you left open so that you could get back in (bunny form). Luckily she was senile so William brushed it off

Your luck runs out one day when he comes home unexpectedly. He sees feet under the door to the bathroom and is ready to kill - bursting into the room without care - only to find you, his pet.

He’s confused, thinking the intruder disappears, but sees your socks on the floor. He doesn’t believe it, even when you shift right in front of him:

“Don’t hurt me!” you say. “It’s crazy, but I can explain…”

You tell him everything about you - including why you were there at the pizzeria that night. He’s shocked, even considering the fact he’s created literal Frankenstein’s, but he softens

Is most impressed you didn’t rat him out to the cops

Both of your secrets are now safe with each other - William still looks after you (he prefers when you’re in bunny form) but there’s times where you’ve had a bit of breakfast together before he leaves

It’s nice, actually. You kind of keep him sane.

Getting a matching purple tie for you like his Springbonnie suit 

But he’s a psycho at heart so of course he’s thinking of how he could *inadvertently* use you in his schemes….

His best friend is a bunny. It doesn’t make sense but he doesn’t either

[blu3b3rrymuffins]

Oranges and Starlight

What Could go Wrong?

Azriel was sipping coffee at the River House, keeping an eye in Nyx as the baby ate his breakfast next to him. The mess of bananas and yogurt on his face was enough to make Azriel chuckle. With Rhys and Feyre in the Winter Court for a meeting with the High Lords and Nesta and Cassian on a honeymoon of sorts, it was Azriel who was the one tasked with watching Nyx. At first he had protested as it was always his priority to aid and protect his High Lord and Lady. But Mor was the one with connections with the Winter Court, Elain went as an emissary to the human realm, standing in for Nesta and while Amren loved Nyx, she was still learning how to nurture him.

Azriel stood up to wipe the mess from Nyx’s face, using his shadows to distract the baby as Azriel cleaned up the kitchen a bit. He was growing so fast, learning at a quick rate that Azriel attributed to his parents. He picked Nyx up and made their way over to the sitting room where Nyx’s toys were set up. Sitting down with him, Azriel made sure that Nyx wouldn’t fall back.

“Now, I know that Uncle Cass wants you to say his name first,” Azriel said seriously to the toddler sitting in front of him. “But you and I both know you’re going to say ‘Az’ first, huh?” In response, Nyx babbled a bit and clapped his little hands which was good enough for Azriel.

They spent the late morning and afternoon playing in the sitting room and going out into the garden for a bit of sun. Azrie’s shadows made several appearances, peeking out if only to hear Nyx giggle. His shadows had quickly learned to love the little princling, working hard to keep the tears away and smiles present. It warmed the Shadowsinger’s heart to see how fearless Nyx had grown towards those shadows. Where most people shied away, Nyx looked for them whenever Azriel was present, seeking them out when they were away.

Just as Azriel was bringing Nyx inside, the distinct fluttering noise of winnowing sounded in the hall followed by the sound of Feyre’s voice echoing through the room.

“ We don’t even know where to begin, Rhys,” Feyre said with a sigh as they entered the sitting room. Nyx squealed happily at the sound of his mother’s voice and squealed a second time at the sight of his parents, his little wings flapping with excitement. “Hi, baby,” She greeted with a smile, picking him up from the Shadowsinger’s arms as the others shuffled into the room.

“Tarquin supposedly has something up his sleeve, but we will weather the storm, darling. We always do,” Rhysand answered, coming over to say hello to Nyx, stroking his hair lovingly. Standing up, Azriel asked,

“Are you going to fill me in on what happened or just talk about it amongst yourselves?”

“Yes, yes, we will get to it, boy. Don’t get your wings in a twist,” Amren grumbled as she slumped down in a chair.

Mor snorted as she too entered the room with Elain in tow, the latter stopping to greet Nyx quietly.

“We have a bit of a problem,” Rhysand said, causing Mor to snort again.

“A bit?” Mor asked, helping herself to the pitcher of rosemary lemonade that was set out.

“Yes, a bit. We have survived worse,” Rhysand insisted, shooting her a small glare. Azriel stood back, watching his friends and waiting for one of them to say exactly what the meeting was about.

“I don’t think that Bryallin and Hybern compare to Koschei,” Amren deadpanned.

“Koschei?” Azriel asked, looking at Amren.

“Yes, Koschei,” She retorted, shooting Azriel a glare with those silver eyes of hers.

“Have you not heard anything from the continent?”

“No, there has been nothing unusual,” Azriel answered simply, wondering where this was going and slowly putting something together in his mind about the peace treaty they only recently got Vallahan to sign.

”And from the human territories, past the border?” Feyre chimed in, bouncing Nyx on her hip. That changed his train of thought. Other than one of their queen’s taking up residence there, what did the human realms below Prythian have to do with the continent? Unless Vassa had something to do with the meeting that the High Lords and Ladies went to last night. Perhaps Vassa was there, that she knew something important and urgent enough to warrant such a quick assembly.

“Nothing,” He replied to his High Lady.

"Well, what are your spies good for then?” Amren asked, rolling her eyes.

“Amren-” Feyre sighed, attempting to play mediator.

“Vassa is missing,” Rhysand finally said, stopping a fight between his mate and a grumpy Amren before it started.

“What do you mean missing?” Azriel asked scenarios of how and why the queen would disappear playing in his head.

Assuming that was what the meeting was about, what could the High Lord know about such an important person’s disappearance?

“Lucien said it was Koschei, that it was Koschei’s doing that caused her disappearance. Lucien has called for aid to find Vassa. He is frightened for her,” Feyre explained with a frown.

Azriel stole a look at Elain at the mention of her mate. She was standing off to the side of the room now, not making eye contact with anyone and instead looking out the window and into the distance. He wondered if she cared that Lucien was so shaken up by the disappearance of Vassa. If it bothered her at all.

“And Tarquin?” Azriel asked, wondering what the High Lord of Summer could provide for aid. Or who Tarquin had in mind. “What does he have to do with this?”

“He says that he knows someone who might have to help. That was all he said, that she could help, whatever that entails.” Rhysand explained, running a hand through his hair. A list of names appeared in Azriel’s mind. A list of people who could aid in this upcoming conflict but there was barely a handful of people from the Summer Court that came to mind.

“Well, I can see what my spies have heard on the continent and in the mortal territories. Now that I know what we are looking for, my spies might be more useful,” Azriel said, pointing a small smirk at Amren who waved him off.

“Mor, I want to send you back to Vallahan to see if they have heard anything about Koschei’s whereabouts,” Rhysand said, turning to the blonde who lounged next to Amren, still sipping her lemonade.

“If you think it will help,” She responded sarcastically, sounding like she did not think it would help at all.

“It could help,” Rhysand said, sounding more like a confused puppy than a High Lord.

“Sure it could,” Azriel assured.

After all, what could go wrong?

[god-complex-12]

Cigarettes

——

Pairing: [Joker] Jack Naiper x reader

Pronouns: he/him

Fandom: DC

Quote: “Call me Joker.”

Description: Y/n gets a new housemate.

Disclaimer: Boring story, the story and Joker is just completely based on Chaz frome When You Are Engulfed in Flames by David Sedaris. The chapter is called The House. Great book. Recommend, but this story is almost exactly like that.Joker comes off creepy. It doesn’t really clarify if y/n really likes Joker. Joker is referred to as Jack. And cigarettes.

Master list

——

An old building, it was. An old building, but y/n found it homey. An old building, filled with crazy people, and cluttered with antiques. It was more of just a big house. Y/n has lived there for awhile, it wasn’t the best place, but he couldn’t complain. He usually kept to himself, not talking with anyone that much.

He did know the drama. For instance, he knew that a student was moving out to go to college. He also knew someone was moving in. A guy named Jack, and y/n so happened to see him in the hall. No, he wasn’t moving in, he was just renting the room. He wasn’t to stay permanently, at least, that’s what y/n thought.

“You wanna help?” He asked.

Y/n didn’t talk much to him, he kinda just examined the man. He was slender, and handsome. He looked perfect, so y/n started to try and focus on his flaws. He has freakishly pale skin. His yellow teeth. But if you asked y/n, he found those things more appealing.

“You looking for something?” Jack asked, he had a cheeky smile.

Y/n didn’t respond. He just went on talking about something else. Jack wasn’t the nicest. He was pretty rude.

“Anyways, I don’t have to chit-chat.” And then he walked away.

He liked to do that. Leave the conversation early, like he wasn’t the one to start it. It was kind of annoying, but y/n couldn’t do anything about it.

Before Jack, everything was quiet. Now, the day consists of old 90’s rock music. It’s not that bad, it’s good music, but all day? It was annoying. Sometimes, Jack would come to see y/n. Knocking on his door asking for a cigarette. Y/n would cave in, handing him one, and Jack would stand there and smoke it. Y/n had to stand at his doorway and watch. Jack would complain about y/n’s room. Y/n didn’t think anything was wrong with his room. It’s clean. It’s neat. But Jack didn’t think so.

The longer Jack lived there, the more things y/n started to notice. Jack lost his job, supposedly because he was too good for it. Y/n doesn’t really know if he got another one.

Jack began to knock on y/n’s door more often. He had no care in the world for the time. He’d always have so many stories or some stupid conversation to say. Y/n tiredly listen.

Jack wasn’t the most stable person, and they came more apparent when he’d angrily throw stuff out his window, or break something and spread all of the pieces around staring at it. Sometimes you’d see him with a beat up face, he’ll say he got in a fight and won, other’s say he got jumped.

A lot of times when y/n would open the door, Jack would drag y/n out of the wrong, by aggressively grabbing his arms. Jack would control each of his limbs as a puppet. That was when it clicked something was seriously wrong with this guy. Y/n didn’t notice as fast as he’d like, maybe he thought someone so good and clean looking could be so lost.

Jack would even go as far as shoving notes under y/n’s door. They were creepy and unsettling. “I can die and be born again on the same day.” or “You’re my favorite, I’d keep you.” The writing was if it was written from blood. The dark red ink (If it was ink) was off putting. Y/n heard he didn’t to someone else in the house too, but it wasn’t as bad. That was when the landlord told him to leave. Jack had no choice but to agree.

Someone had come by to get his stuff and had said he was put into a mental institution. Said that he was schizophrenic. y/n wasn’t shocked, in fact he felt a little sympathetic, and even went to see him one time. “I knew you loved me. That’s why you were my favorite.” He’d say.

“Yeah, yeah. Keep it to yourself, Jack.” Y/n grumbled.

“Call me Joker.” He said and it seemed more of a threat than a request.

——

[periprose]

Florence - Chapter Two

Despite your attempts to keep a healthy amount of distance between you and Peter, you end up growing closer together (a bit fast for your own tastes) as you experience the joys of air travel. MJ seems to be having wedding troubles when you get there, so it's up to you and Peter to cheer her up.

Becoming friends again, mild flirting, banter, mutual pining, Peter not understanding his own feelings, air travel stuff, lots of going on about how beautiful Italy is

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

You’re surprised how fast the month goes after that. It’s July 15th, and tomorrow, you’ll be on the flight to Italy.

You pack every Sunday- just putting away all your cute, summery clothes, your swimsuits, and other nice dresses that might be needed for special events. MJ is supposedly bringing a whole bunch of extra outfits for everyone, which was notably given to her from Dior’s fashion house.

The mental bill you’re calculating for the whole thing is getting really high.

Ever since Peter moved back into his house, you’ve been catching him doing silly things through his room window- brushing his teeth while dancing, waking up shirtless (you averted your eyes so quickly), and today playing with a tennis ball, accidentally throwing it through his open window and hitting your window with it, looking sheepish about it- but it started a conversation between the two of you.

Hey. Peter mouths, and then he waves at you.

You blink, and then wave back. 

What’s up? He mouths, and you shrug.

You lift up a pile of clothing. Just packing.

Same. Peter holds up a ratty sweater- and your eyes widen with recognition.

You open up your room window, and Peter finally smiles, because he’s gotten you to talk to him.

“Is that-?” You point to it, and then start laughing. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you still have the Mathematics Club sweater!”

“I can’t believe you’re admitting you got rid of such a cherished memory. So casually, too, Howlett.” Peter sighs, as if he’s actually defeated by such an idea. 

“Wait.” You hold up your finger, and Peter does wait as you rummage around in your room, until finally, you pick up a raggedy old cloth. You hold it up to him.

It is your ninth grade sweater- at least, it’s a piece of fabric with the same emblem- and it’s just clearly being used as a rag to clean things up. 

Peter scoffs. “Jesus, Howlett. That thing looks rancid.”

“It’s for cleaning!” You’re indignant, but Peter is laughing at you, and you jokingly huff. “Okay, whatever. Pack a sweater that won’t fit you, I don’t care. I’m not wearing it.”

“Okay, mom.” Peter tosses it on his bed, and you feel such familiarity towards him suddenly. It’s hard not to smile- but you remind yourself that Peter just wants friendship, and he’s just trying to be on good terms with you.

You shake your head, letting your smile falter a little, and continue packing in mutual silence with Peter. 

/

You wake up really late by accident. Like, 4 AM, and the red-eye flight (it’s a fast one that will get you there in 4 hours, courtesy of Harry) is at 5:30 AM, and you need at least two hours to go through all the bullshit at the airport before you can get to your gate.

Logan is snoring downstairs- he’s fallen asleep on the couch by accident. If your dad didn’t weigh like 300 pounds of pure muscle (you don’t know how a teacher could be so buff) you’d lift him up out of the living room.

But you decide to just get ready for the airport. You shower really fast- brush your teeth- and throw all the extra stuff like makeup, skincare, and perfume into your mini backpack, where your phone, passport, and wallet are already in. Airport clothes are a comfy pair of green Adidas running shorts, a loose gray muscle tee, sneakers, and your hair pulled back in a claw clip.

Logan is very slow as you try to push him out the door.

“Dad- C’mon- We’re gonna be late-!” You’re shoving against him, with your suitcase and bag and all of your might, and Logan is just so. Damn. Slow.

He grumbles, scratches his face, and then makes his way out the door, with one shitty duffel bag and a pair of sandals that you don’t think will last the walk to the car. Logan is never prepared for shit.

As you’re walking out, in the very dark early morning, Peter, May and Ben are all inside their car, and Logan suddenly groans.

“I forgot to fill up the tank yesterday.” He yawns, and you look at him with the most irritated, pissed off look you can muster.

Years of doing that still have no effect on Logan. He just rolls his eyes.

“Fuck off, Lettie. We’ll call a cab.” He says, but Ben, who’s at the wheel of the Parker car, immediately waves at you two.

“We’ve got room- if you don’t mind stuffing your bag in the back seat.” Ben points to Logan’s duffle bag, and he sighs and tells you that he’s still sitting in the front.

Leaving you to put your own suitcase into the trunk, and then awkwardly clamber into the back seat, where you’re wedged in between Peter and May.

May touches your arm with a fond warmth- and it immediately makes you feel guilty that you’ve pushed away this family. They never did anything to you, you were just being extraordinarily selfish.

Peter’s bare leg is touching yours, and you snicker at how prickly it is.

“What?”

“Your leg is so… hairy.” You joke, and Peter’s eyes narrow. 

“It’s called being a man.” He leans back in his seat, and you try not to laugh at just how lanky and tall Peter looks sometimes. He’s wearing a t-shirt and gym shorts combo, which looks like his pajamas- it would not surprise you if it was.

“It’s 2023, Pete. Doesn’t hurt to be gender non-conforming now and then.” You retort.

“Let’s not pretend you care about woke-isms now, Howlett. You just want to be comfortable.” He responds without missing a beat. And if anything, he pushes his leg against yours a little harder.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t like it. 

“What the hell are you guys going on about?” Logan mumbles in confusion, and you and Peter giggle. Logan rubs his eyes- and then decides to disguise his tired expression with sunglasses.

“Beats me.” Ben pulls out of the driveway, and begins the short drive to JFK International Airport. “You two better not bicker like children the whole time.”

Logan laughs at that, and you look down at your feet, thinking that you missed bickering with Peter. 

Peter pulls out a phone- evidently his work phone- and May immediately tuts.

“It’s supposed to be a vacation, Peter. You deserve that, at least.” She reprimands him, and crosses her arms. Making you lean even closer to Peter. “No work. Lettie, tell him.”

You meet Peter’s glance- and he has an interesting look on his face. Like he’s daring you to talk to him for real, in a serious way where you care about what he’s doing.

“It’s not really my business, but…” You start, and you can see Peter’s eyes shift ever so slightly- he’s disappointed, you think. “I think you should let yourself have fun.”

“Okay, that’s fair. I’m putting it on silent.” He makes a big motion of pressing the do not disturb button, and then stuffs it into his backpack. “Hey, want a gummy bear?”

You’re taken aback. “Uh, no. It’s probably too early in the morning for that- plus I don’t want to think how long gummy bears have been in your bag for.”

“Your loss.” Peter tosses a handful in his mouth as you gag. “What, c’mon, Howlett. We all need a hearty breakfast to start the day-”

“I’m buying real breakfast at the airport.” You cross your arms, and Peter nods, chowing down on more gummy bears.

“I’m hungry.” He smiles at you, and his teeth are covered in gummy bits, congealed in a disgusting rainbow of colours that has you instantly cackling with laughter.

“Oh my god, dude. You’re gonna get so many cavities.” You’re literally trying not to laugh but Peter is really, really good at stupid faces, and he keeps sneering at you like a little pig, and you shake with laughter as he keeps nudging you.

You’re doing your best to be his buddy, and you feel like it doesn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. If anything, you actually… you like being his friend, even if you can’t have it all. 

You have a small, sheepish smile on your face that you’re desperately trying to get rid of now. Peter side eyes you- and he’s content to see that he’s still got the ability to make you laugh uncontrollably. 

/

The airport is incredibly busy for 4:20 AM.

Families are running- literally jogging with all their bags and new paraphernalia bought from the airport shops- towards their gates, TSA agents are being really touchy about everything today, and the line ups for everything are really, really long.

You don’t need to check in any suitcases, so you skip that. Your passports and tickets are checked by multiple different authoritative people.

It seems to happen in a bit of a rush. You’re pushed through security, and you grimace as they look through your suitcase- for some reason the TSA agent opens the zipper of the clear mesh bag holding all your underwear and lingerie- and he leers at you.

“Going on a special trip? Maybe some yachting?” He asks, grinning, and you know he’s insinuating that you’re one of those girls who “yacht”, as in, providing sexual favours to guests there as a hired hooker.

Your dad’s fist tightens, but you push him forward. “It’s fine, dad. We don’t really have time for this.”

“No, it’s not fine.” Peter speaks up, and he’s scratching the back of his hair, but you can tell Peter has that look on his face- he’s not gonna let this go. He’s a protective, justice-oriented guy, you know that.

“Peter, please… it’s the TSA. You don’t want to get in trouble with them.” You shake your head and peer up at him, and Peter can’t really say no when you’re pleading at him with those big, sad eyes.

The TSA agent doesn’t like that Peter said anything at all. “Sir, I’m gonna need to do a pat-down procedure on you.”

You turn, a level of shock and just awe at the audacity of this guy working it’s way onto your face. “Are you serious? Is it because he said something?”

The agent is silent for a moment. “...Not related.”

You don’t buy it, and you’re about to say something, but Peter squeezes your shoulder.

“Howlett, it’ll just take a second. Otherwise we’re going to hold up the line, and then we’ll be late for our flight. Right?” He whispers, and it’s very Peter to comfort you like this- but you can see in his eyes that by defending him, you did do the right thing, the very thing that he wanted you to from the beginning- that you care.

You do care, even if you tried to act like you didn’t. 

“Okay. Just… stay safe.” You say, and you look back at Peter being ushered into the pat-down booth as you, Logan, Ben and May are allowed to pass through security.

/

You’re waiting in the check in line when Peter finally returns, grinning widely. He’s holding his cheek in a weird way- and you look up at him, looking inquisitive, but Peter sidesteps your almost-question instantly.

“I bought breakfast?” He holds up a bag, and reaches in to hand you a breakfast burrito. You’re too hungry to ask your question and eat at the same time, and Peter beams at you, May, Logan and Ben as you guys eat. Quickly, too, because you’ve only got ten more minutes to check in.

Checking into the flight goes a lot smoother. The check-in lady recognizes that you have first class seats, which are very coveted and basically label you as VIP members of the flight.

You cringe at the level of opulence that Harry seems to be paying for- Peter, too, gives you a look that just reads “yikes.” 

It’s not very growing-up-in-the-poor-suburbs-of-Queens of you, but you’re not gonna say no now.

The airplane seats are large and spacious. You struggle to reach the luggage hold, and Peter wordlessly lifts up your suitcase, puts it in, and then his own, and shuts the hold with a clink. He gives you a funny look- like he’s about to raise his arms and say “no, really, it was my pleasure.”

And he does just that, to your mild surprise. He used to do that all the time when you were kids- if you got too cushy about Peter being your little servant, he would go overboard to make you give him some gratitude.

“Sorry. Thank you, Peter.” You say with as much sincerity as you can muster, because you’re just exhausted at this moment.

“No worries. I’m tired too.” Peter leans back in his seat, which has a metre gap of distance from you. There’s a large flat screen in front of his seat, which is really like a lounge chaise sofa, and a table that is ergonomically designed to also rest his arms on. Everything looks like a futuristic piece of art.

Peter suddenly scowls, and holds his cheek again.

“Hey… you never told me what happened to your face.” You lean forward on the arm rest of Peter’s chair, and gently pull his hand back.

Peter’s face is sheepish as you do. He refuses to meet your glance, even when you gasp.

“Peter! That’s a-” You touch the newly red, freshly bruised skin on his cheek, and he flinches. “A bruise-!”

He clamps his hand over your mouth. “Shut it, I don’t need Aunt May on my case about that.”

You gently pry his hand off of you. “But what happened?”

Peter’s eyes fall to the floor of the cabin.

“Don’t lie to me.” You immediately start, and he sighs with a well known just-my-Parker-luck air.

“Okay, listen. I wasn’t trying to be a hero, or anything like that…” He plays around with his knuckles. “The TSA dude didn’t exactly shut up when he got me into the booth.”

You’re silent, but you’re listening really, really hard, and Peter looks up just to make sure that you are listening. God, he missed the times when you looked at him so intently.

“Well, I don’t know if I should say what he-”

“Say it.” You give him your consent, because you need to know what got Peter so riled up that he would let himself get beat up.

“He… um…” Peter swallows, and he wonders if he should. Because you’re only now just starting to open up- he’s worried that he’ll say the wrong thing and push you aside, and he can’t have that again.

Peter continues anyways. “He made a shitty joke- just some offhand comment about how he could show you a better time than me, I guess?”

You feel your face turn hot at the implication. 

“And… he just wouldn’t stop. I tried, you know, to just ignore it, to respect women and not give into the toxic masculinity bullshit. But that made him more… eager to get a response.” Peter stares at his hands, and he starts getting a bit of a grimace going on. “He started going on about how your body must look- I’m not gonna repeat that, sorry, even if you want me to, I think it’s too much- and I guess he kept saying it was a shame you were wasted on me.”

You hold Peter’s arm, and he looks back up at you.

“That’s when I couldn’t take it. I punched him.” He shrugs, and your eyes widen.

“Peter…”

“I don’t regret it, Howlett. He had it coming- it was so satisfying to watch.” Peter shakes his head. “I know, I know. That’s toxic. And he punched me back, see?”

 “I thought you knew better than getting into fights.” You cross your arms. “Ah, well at least I can rest easy knowing it wasn’t about me.”

“Wasn’t about-” Peter gives you an incredulous glance. “Of course it was about you, moron.”

“Huh?” You look at him, eyebrows furrowed. “C’mon, Peter. You only punched him when he made you feel inadequate.”

“I don’t care about that.” Peter is impatient, but you’re just barely listening now. Already convinced of your own idea. “I care that he thought all of your value was summed up in whether or not he got a hard on. That you exist just to be the receiving object of some idiot’s orgasm.”

“Great visuals as usual, Peter.” You snicker, but he’s entirely serious. “Okay. I’m sorry… I know that you care.” 

You ignore the hollow feeling in your chest as you say that. Maybe Peter was so disgusted, so thrown off by the very idea of you two together, like that, that he would defend your honour in the most purely, platonic way.

You know these thoughts aren’t rational. You’re just too cowardly to really talk to him about it.

Peter doesn’t even really know what threw him off like that, anyways. Of course he was going to defend you- you’re too special to him that he would let anyone talk about you like that. Even a potential boyfriend. 

He shudders internally at that thought for some reason, and then can’t place why. Why beat someone up for you? Why feel threatened by a boyfriend?

He doesn’t love you… right?

Peter’s got a hell of a lot of questions swirling around in his brain now, and they’re not getting any clearer as you start backing away a little. There’s a couple of potential answers, sure, but he’s not going to get a genuine one unless he talks to you.

“I… um… I care about you too.” You say in the most monotone whisper, and Peter cannot tell if you mean that in any way at all, let alone platonically or romantically. 

Damn it, he thinks. She’s pulling away again. Is this what happened last time? I was accidentally displaying too many feelings, and she didn’t know how to reject me?

Peter exhales. He thinks this should be a good thing. You’re at least talking to him- he’s going to be okay with that for now. 

“Okay.” He blinks. “I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“No…” You roll your eyes at your own antics. “Peter, I’m just an overthinking idiot sometimes.”

“I know.”

You hit his shoulder and he laughs. 

“We’re good, right?” You ask, and Peter nods, as if he was insulted that you had to even ask the question. It seems a tad put on, but you take it. 

“Aw… we can’t watch a movie together now.” He tuts, pointing at how individual and faraway your seats and personal screens are. 

“Maybe that’s for the better.” You yawn, stretching and teetering on the arm rest that you’re sitting on. “We should get some sleep?”

Suddenly, a flight attendant walks past you in the aisle with the drink cart, which hits you just hard enough that you fall over the arm rest. You steady yourself, and your face brushes against Peter’s cheek.

He’s unnerved how close you are to him now. It doesn’t help that the relationship between the two of you that was assumed by the TSA agent was so… erotic in nature. 

Peter’s head is swirling with ideas and thoughts that he’s not sure have any valid place in reality- he nearly bites his tongue when he’s possessed by some inane urge to kiss you. He looks down at his legs, and then back at you, feeling guilty when he just said he cares about you as a person. Maybe he sees it both ways? Maybe he likes you so much that it’s truly intertwined in that emotion that one might describe as love?

Peter’s eyes drift towards your own, and then back to your lips. You feel your face warm- and then your stomach flip flops, and you decide to put an end to it before it gets complicated.

“I’m- uh… I’m gonna just-” You get up and motion to your seat, and he nods, unable to talk about what just happened.

/

Peter only wakes you up close to when the flight is over. It’s only the two of you in this cabin, and it’s very dark, so you nearly punch him until you realize who it is.

“Jesus, Peter!” You draw your arm back, and he snickers. “What is it?”

“You fell asleep for most of the flight.”

“So you were watching me, creep?” You blink at him, only half joking.

Peter sighs, and leans forward on the balls of his feet.

“This coming from the girl who would stare at me through the window when I was waking up for elementary school every morning?” Peter raises his eyebrows, and you shake your head, laughing.

“That was perfectly innocent.” You snort. “I was just saying hello to my good friend. You.”

He notices that you sound more okay with being his friend again, and he’s glad. You wave at him, making a mockery of how you used to always say hi, and Peter grabs your hand.

He nudges- well, pushes- you to move over on your absolutely massive seat-bed, which was honestly too much space for just you, anyways. And he sits down next to you.

“So?” You try to ignore how Peter’s body is against your own.

“Here.” He hands you a aluminum foil container, that you’re kind of surprised you didn’t see him holding, and you take it. It’s quite heavy.

“You were knocked out cold for a bit, and the flight attendant really didn’t want to leave you hanging with airplane food.” Peter scratches his face. “I know, right? VIP privileges right there.”

“Yeah. There have been plenty of summers us poors have been forgotten back in the economy seats.” You sniff, and Peter laughs.

“So yeah. It’s just your food.” He nods, but you wonder why he’s sitting next to you, and tell him as much.

“Oh, right.” Peter pulls out his phone. “MJ kept texting me about something… just give me a moment…”

At the sound of her name, you feel your heart plummet rapidly.

You try to remind yourself- it’s been almost a decade, and you’re too old to be caring this much about that- plus these are some of your closest friends.

You resist the urge to push Peter away, and yet, you miss what he’s said entirely.

/

You’re seventeen years old again. You’re sitting outside at a park bench with your friends.

MJ is telling you about how excited she is to go to prom this year- and how she just must find the perfect dress in the most accurate blue-green shade that matches her eyes correctly.

You’re only half listening- you don’t really care all that much about prom. What’s more important is getting into university.

You have your heart set on NYU, and Peter, Empire State. MJ and Har, on the other hand, are leaping headfirst into their careers, MJ with modelling, and Harry taking over a management position at his dad’s company.

You’re not even really thinking about university right now, either. Peter is staring at MJ as she talks to you, her long red tresses of hair bundled into a messy bun, making the perfect halo of copper strands. She looks like a princess of some faraway medieval kingdom- she’s just missing a crown.

Your smile falters as you watch Peter blink, and turn red, unable to tear away his gaze at MJ as she giggles at his not-that-funny joke.

This is so stupid. You think, but your thoughts are barely coherent. I was never even an option for him. Why can’t I just be normal? Why do I have to get upset over every little thing? I just want him to look at me like that. He didn’t do anything wrong…

But you think to yourself that Peter did do something wrong. This whole time, you had started to grow affectionate when he would offer to hold your books, or walk home together from school, or study in the library for finals. He had become exceedingly good looking- no longer wearing his reading glasses, brushing his hair into more of a long, scruffy look, his scrawny teenage body slowly becoming more built into the body of a man- and you find that lately Peter’s brown eyes mean more to you than you used to think. 

Perhaps your only mistake was assuming that anything he did was any different from your usual friendship. 

The thought sobers you from your internal thrashing. Peter hasn’t really led you on at all, you’re just an idiot with too many feelings. 

Peter says something about how MJ’s eyes are more blue than green, and she giggles and widens her eyes so he can take a good look at them and see just how wrong he is. As he leans closer, and closer, his eyes peering into her own as if he’s actually studying the colour and not looking for an excuse to just be near her, you feel sick. 

Sick of being ugly, being the weird best friend, being totally boring and just not as cool as MJ. And sick of the unrequited nature of this fondness you feel for Peter- it’s not anyone’s fault, but you wish it just didn’t happen. It’s like an awful joke.

/

You’re back to the present. Peter has been shaking your shoulder.

“Huh?”

“MJ says she’s really sorry, but she needs to ask us to be at a rehearsal wedding and reception today.” Peter says, and he shows you his phone like it’s nothing. “Something about the Cathedral not being available any other time.”

Like you’re not a creep who wouldn’t immediately check how often he texts MJ.

You take a tiny inhale. Remember how old you are. Remember that Peter does care about you and what’s in the past is in the past. You read the Instagram messages like a normal person.

maryjanewatson: Hey peter!! Can you tell lettie that we’re having the wedding rehearsal today? Like 5 hours after you guys get out the airport

maryjanewatson: So sorry btw, i tried to rearrange it for tmr so u would at least have a day’s rest!! sadly it did not work out.

pbp: yeah that’s fine. Don’t worry about it, I’ll tell her. We’ll try to be awake :)

You blink. It’s just messages between friends, not even a hint of flirting between them, and then you wonder what the hell is wrong with you that you expected any different. MJ loves Harry- she would never look at another man the same way as she did him- and Peter, regardless of whatever his current feelings were, would always respect that.

“So that’s fine, right?” Peter comments, because you haven’t said anything in a bit and he wonders what you’re zoning out about.

“Yeah, she can’t help that. It’s fine.” You yawn a little. “I wonder what we’ll have to do.”

“Knowing Harry and MJ, it’s going to be a super coordinated affair, but I’m sure we’ll be fine.” Peter pauses. “At least, I’m sure you’ll be fine. I might trip when walking down the aisle.”

“And who’s arm am I holding?” You nudge him jokingly. “I’ll try to hold you up, Parker.”

Another IG message from MJ pops up before Peter can respond, and you read it before you instinctively tell yourself not to.

maryjanewatson: Oooo, so you guys are tired??? What on EARTH could u two have been doing to be so sleepy, I wonder? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Peter groans, and you- to your credit- start laughing. Cackling, really.

MJ knows how to joke around, so it doesn’t sound nearly as bad in the way she puts it. But you wonder if she’s been teasing Peter a lot, and it makes you feel guilty, that your own silly former crush is making MJ feel the need to play matchmaker.

Peter is amused at your reaction, but he doesn’t know why you’re laughing so hard, and why he cares so much about the reason.

“She doesn’t-” Peter starts, but so do you.

“She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” You nod, and Peter nods in solidarity.

You’re glad you can at least form a union on that.

Peter checks out his reflection in his phone screen. “Shit.”

“Huh?”

“This looks pretty bad.” He points to his face, and you see that the bruise still looks shiny and red. “Howlett, you’ve got makeup or something, right? Can’t imagine what Harry and MJ will do when this ruins their pictures.”

“I’m sure it will heal in a day or two.” You say drily, but you still pull out stuff out of your backpack. “Here’s a cream for burns- it’s not really meant for bruises, but it will help with the pain, if you’re feeling anything.”

Peter takes it, and slathers some on, instantly sighing as the cool sensation relieves the heat of the bruise.

“Oh, you just gotta-” You don’t know how to tell Peter that he needs to rub it in, so you do it for him, your fingers gently patting and rubbing the cream into his cheek.

Peter stares at you, and keeps staring even as you look away into your bag again. Your face is warm again, because you forgot just how close you are to him and MJ’s last message really doesn’t help your thoughts here.

But you also just feel a fondness for him, which is nice. It’s nice to be his friend, and take care of him like this- if Peter would let you, you’d do this for the rest of your life.

“Okay, I know this looks odd, but this will draw attention away from the redness.” You pull out a green colour corrector, and Peter nods.

“Colour theory. Nice.” He says drily as you dab little green spots with the doe foot applicator, and then rub his skin. 

Peter’s eyes drift from your hand, to your face, to your eyes, and then to your mouth again, and you watch his jaw clench- he visibly swallows and lets you keep going.

You stop when the green has melted into his skin, making it look effortlessly clean and peachy like his natural skin tone, as if nothing had happened.

“Better?” You ask, and Peter looks at his reflection again.

“Better.” Peter says in a significantly more husky tone, and you try your best to ignore the shivers down your spine.

/

The airport in Florence is pretty ordinary. A modern building with not much appeal inside of it. You, Peter, Logan, May and Ben arrive there around 2 PM, thanks to the time zone difference. You head inside a cute mini bus after a quick chat with the security agents- Peter doesn’t have to punch this guy, as he’s perfectly polite- and it’s off to drive to where the Villa Cetinale will be waiting for you.

Your dad taps your shoulder, and you turn.

“Smile for the camera, kid?” Logan holds up his Canon camera, and you have to laugh at the fact that he takes photography so seriously. There’s a whole Italy album spanning years worth of funny, heartfelt moments.

You nod, and Peter flashes bunny ears behind you as you smile. The next picture is of you shoving him, and Peter laughing.

The wind coming through the shuttle window is relaxing. You find yourself feeling more relaxed, remembering that this is a vacation, and you are supposed to have fun.

“Darn. We didn’t get any Neapolitan pizza.” Peter says, and you tell him that you’re sure you can get some in Florence.

“Really, Howlett? I thought our years of Neapolitan pizza eating would teach you some well-deserved snobbery.” 

“Is it going to be that different in Florence?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

Peter takes a dramatic pause. “...Yes. Don’t you know anything about the regional differences in food here?”

“I’m sorry, I forgot you were Italian. Apparently.”

As you banter, May and Ben smile to themselves. Thinking just how great it is that you two are finally in cahoots with each other again.

/

One hour later, an hour you’ve spent mostly napping, as it is, you arrive to the Villa Cetinale, which is in Siena. Despite MJ saying that it wouldn’t be like Florence, you’re uncultured enough that all of Italy feels the same. Peter wakes you up with a tender grasp on your shoulder, and Logan gives the two of you an inquisitive look- which makes Peter drop his hand immediately.

“Oh my god.” Those are your first words as you walk out of the bus, after you’ve thanked the driver that Harry has apparently paid to drop you right off at the Villa Cetinale.

The first thing you see is a gorgeous, lush garden, full of mossy bushes and trees that are snipped into geometric shapes, perfect square and triangles that you can walk through. There are large, marble sculptures covered in vines, and you assume they must be decades if not centuries old, just based on some of the weathering and rough textures. 

There are massive flowerpots in between the bushes, containing either shrubbery or pretty, delicate yellow flowers. And at the centre of the land, is a beautiful square, boxy building, looking as large as a mansion, in an off white colour contrasted by green window shutters, somehow both cozy and luxurious in it’s scattered brick exterior. A four pillar opening to an inner loggia (an open patio of sorts) and swirling emblems give the impression of an art piece. 

It’s stunning- it looks like a vacation home fit for a royal family. 

It totally makes sense why Harry would rent this place for his wedding. Yes, it’s probably obscenely expensive, but you have to admit- it has that soft touch that MJ probably wanted, and it’s very pretty to look at. 

The air quality is almost sinfully clean, and you feel a wide smile working it’s way onto your face. The sun is shining, the smell of the soil and path around you is familiar- and you turn to smile at Peter.

“I love Italy.” You beam, and he, for whatever reason, looks away for a moment- if Peter was honest, it’s because you were unexpectedly too cute and he could not handle it- but he turns back towards you and says that he agrees.

“I’m glad we’re back.” Peter comments as you motion for him to come along while you pull your suitcase, and walk down the gravel path towards the door. 

It’s kind of a long walk, actually, which tells you how much land this place actually spans. You pass by other smaller buildings- they appear to be sheds, or perhaps homes for the servants of the villa, you can’t be sure- and as you walk, you turn just to take in your surroundings. There’s loads of forest spanning both the front and back of the villa.

When you reach the front gate of the villa, MJ pops out of the front door immediately, swinging through the patio chairs and tables between the pillars. She’s wearing a bright coral sundress that somehow does not clash with her red hair, and she’s also wearing big, white framed sunglasses, which make her look even more famous.

You think she and Harry will raise a great nepo baby someday, just based on the current vibes you’re getting. You wonder if you’ll be an adequate aunt.

“Lettie, Peter! Buongiorno!” She runs towards you guys, and hugs you both. MJ is a pretty firm hugger- you feel squeezed lovingly, and it’s as if she didn’t see you recently- and she pulls back with a gasp.

“We need to talk about your guys’ outfits. It’s too…” She trails off.

“Poor?” You try, and MJ laughs but shakes her head.

“Casual?” Peter attempts, and MJ sort of nods at that, giving him the point of her finger.

“Yes. Casual sounds about right. No worries, we’ve got tons of clothes for you guys to try on here.” MJ takes a moment to hug Logan, and then May and Ben, and then motions for you to follow her.

“MJ’s gonna make us over until we’ve become little signores and signoras she can be proud of.” Peter whispers as you enter through the pillars of the Villa, into a large foyer with sloping ceilings and elaborate tile work. 

“I heard that.” MJ says, cheerfully so. “I don’t mind if you guys want to wear your own clothes- it was just a humble suggestion.”

“That’s coming from you. A total bridezilla?” You ask, only half-joking, and MJ… despite how happy MJ always seems to be, she seems to crack a little here, and then she snorts and laughs loudly.

“I needed that. Needed a laugh. I’m so glad you guys are here. I am so tired of playing up the role of future Mrs. Osborn.” She admits rather candidly, and Logan gets a wary look on his face.

“Don’t mean to intrude, but… isn’t that bad if you’re going to be that for the rest of your life?” He says with nearly no tact, and you gasp, affronted.

“Dad!” You scoff at him, while MJ’s smile trembles a little, as she flinches. “She didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yeah, I took it more like, it’s hard to be the lady-in-charge of the Villa and all the wedding planning and stuff, right, MJ?” Peter asks, and she nods a little too eagerly.

“Y-Yeah. Exactly.” MJ sighs, and then tells a servant standing nearby to take your suitcases to your rooms. “I’m sorry… just give me a moment.”

She walks through the main hall, and through the back door, probably into the vast garden of the back.

Peter winces. You glare at Logan.

“What, Lettie?” Logan crosses his arms, getting that grumpy I-know-better-than-you look. “People always need honesty, even if they don’t want to hear it.”

“Not if we don’t know the whole situation, Dad.” You roll your eyes, and Peter doesn’t want to comment on this, but he feels that you’re right. He’s just really bad at coming between you and Logan- he’s afraid of what Logan will say to him, and he really can’t risk losing the hard-earned friendship he’s spent literally decades cultivating with Logan.

Peter just hopes you won’t be annoyed that he’s not defending you in this moment.

“Do we want to go talk to her?” He asks gently, and you hear the usage of we, like a couple, and fail to respond for a moment.

“Let’s give her a minute and then go.”

/

Ben and May are the first to agree with you, kind of- they still have the older mentality of telling it like it is. Still, Ben thinks highly of MJ and Harry, and he tells you as much.

“I always thought those two were on the same page.” Ben tuts, flipping through one of the many books that the main hall offers for you to read. “It’s probably just pre-wedding jitters.”

“Lord knows we had them.” May giggles suddenly, and Ben chuckles at that. “I thought Ben was going to leave me when I started crying about the ring being a little too loose.”

“You just weren’t eating, May.” Ben reminds her. “You must’ve lost… like ten pounds or something like that, it’s no wonder the engagement ring was sliding off.”

The thought that MJ isn’t eating because of nerves, combined with that strict modelling regime needed to stay hot and skinny, strikes you suddenly, and you tug on Peter’s arm.

“We should go talk to her now.” You say, fear becoming apparent in your voice. You’re worried- Peter can see that clearly in your eyes- because you do remember how frazzled MJ seemed to be, just on the edges, throughout your bridesmaid dress appointment, and that lunch where she just picked at a salad… and how often she checked at her phone, with a disappointed glance, which she quickly covered over with a smile.

You feel like the worst friend. You hadn’t really noticed that MJ needed someone, and you need to be there for her now.

It’s easy to be distracted by all the pretty interior design of the villa, and even as you step through the backyard doors, into the outside, there are more beautiful marble statues, two twin staircases that lead to the second floor of the villa, and many more trees and bushes- you think you can see the famed lemon garden here- but you assert yourself to stay focused on MJ.

Peter walks quickly, not just to keep up with you, but because he’s worried, since you are. You have pretty good judgement of most emotional situations- in fact everyone usually comes to you for advice. So Peter knows your opinion is valuable, and he’s really hoping MJ is okay.

She’s sitting on a white garden chair, under an umbrella, in the shade. Her hair looks like a deep auburn- and it just makes her seem more sombre.

MJ’s drinking a lightly iced tea, and you can already guess there’s no sugar in there.

“Hey, Mary Jane…” You touch her shoulder, and she tries her best to smile at you.

“Lettie.” She sighs, a deep sigh embittered with pent up sadness, and you wonder why. “I’m sorry. I should’ve been nicer to you guys… what a horrible start to your vacation.”

“We don’t care about that.” You start, and Peter thinks about the use of we, too, but he quickly brushes that aside. “Just… are you okay to tell us what’s wrong?

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.” Peter says, and he sits down next to her, and you do, too. 

MJ breathes in. Shuts her eyes. And then squeezes a wedge of lemon into her tea.

“It’s not a big deal, at all. It’s just me being silly, I swear.” She suddenly, violently squishes the lemon, and lemon pulp splatters onto the table. 

You wince, and give Peter a look. He knows what you mean- things are not well.

“Who am I kidding?” MJ scoffs at herself, and her normally pristine complexion is harsh, red with stress. She’s becoming Tomato MJ. “The wedding planning is a lot, yeah. But even worse- someone went behind my back for next year’s New York Fashion Week, and now I might not be able to secure a designer to model for, and Harry isn’t responding to my texts, and I have no idea why because he’s usually always ready to talk to, and it feels like… it feels like… like I’m alone?”

Her voice breaks, and she bursts into tears.

“Oh, MJ…” You hug her, and she cries as she holds onto you, her eyelashes becoming wet with big, fat tears. Her head quickly finds that gap between your shoulder and neck- and it’s as if no time has passed, again, because you feel like that gap was made for this friendship. You remember all the times you’ve hugged her, and you hope you’re still providing the same comfort.

MJ sniffs, and Peter gently pats her back. He feels like you’ve got it covered- he gives you a thumbs up and you give him a sheepish smile.

“It’s just… I’m not mad at anyone, I just wonder why no one is talking to me.” She wipes a tear away as she lets you go, and you listen carefully. “Why no one seems to want to communicate. Like, fuck, how am I supposed to do the right thing if I don’t know what it is?”

MJ’s comment cuts deep, and you feel like you’ve been in that situation a lot. With Peter, you’re never sure where your standing is with him.

“Listen. I know it’s not the best advice, but you just gotta hang in there, okay?” You hold her hand, and MJ nods, wiping her face a little more vigorously. “It’s frustrating, but soon you’ll find out who did what and for what reason. No need to freak about all the unknowns right now, because they’re just unknowns.”

“Okay. That’s true.” MJ agrees, but she’s still got a hint of worry on her face, and Peter can see that.

“And me and Howlett will help with all the wedding stuff. Promise.” He swears, and MJ’s face brightens. “Maybe we can also help you with the New York Fashion Week thing? What exactly happened there?”

“Oh…” MJ plays with the hem of her dress. “Someone sent my usual designer at Dior an email… and they were already doing a huge favour by taking on someone like me, y’know? I’m not very well known in the model space yet. So the email was accusing me of using connections from Harry to be in the model industry… and as far as I know, Dior is looking into it seriously because they don’t take kindly to frauds using their model-in-training funds.”

“But that’s total bullshit!” You exclaim, and MJ and Peter both look towards you as you start talking. “You must have in your proof of records that Harry didn’t do anything like that for you, right? You started off pretty small, I remember, it was for a local show.”

“Howlett’s right.” Peter nods, affirmative. “We can both look into your history- if that’s okay, MJ- and prove to whoever did this that they’re wrong. And you won’t be booted.”

“I don’t know… it does seem kind of suspicious since I’m marrying him and all.” MJ says, but she immediately shakes herself out of it. “No, you guys are right. I worked hard.”

“You did.” You nod, and then MJ takes on a more suspicious, dark look.

“I think it was one of my friends.” She admits, and Peter looks to you, but you don’t know them either, so you give him an unfamiliar glance. “One of the models that will be here on Wednesday. Elektra, Wanda, Kitty, Bucky, or Nat. Nat and Kitty are already on Dior with me, so that leaves Bucky, Elektra, or Wanda. And I’m pretty sure they were on the shortlist to make it for New York Fashion Week.”

Peter grins. “This is easy. Right?”

It takes you a second but you clue in. “Oh my god, yeah. MJ, you wouldn’t happen to still have the email, right?”

“Of course I do.”

“We can trace back the IP address of the email ID that sent it.” Peter squeezes your hand from across the table, and it’s an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by MJ. “Howlett and I, we’re really good at coding and shit- we’re techie kids and all that, right- so it can’t take more than a day, I swear.”

“I believe you.” MJ smiles. “I’m just wondering when you got all sweet on Lettie, and suddenly decided to hold her hand.”

Peter lets go, kind of dramatically, but his hand twitches for a moment, grazing over your own palm before moving back.

“Can friends not hold hands?” You ask timidly, but MJ gives you such a suggestive look that you’re laughing.

“Okay. No more drama, you guys.” MJ laughs too, shakes her head, and stands up off her chair, into the sunlight. “We should have fun before the rehearsal today. What do you want to do?”

“Whaddya have in mind?” Peter throws right back at her, and she gets another mischievous look on her face. 

/

It’s a very lovely bakery next to the corner store in a teeny village, just a , with loads of different kinds of gelato and ice creams and crepes and tiramisu and biscotti and panna cotta. 

Of course MJ would consider this bad, considering that she’s not allowed to eat anything so unhealthy usually. But she’s excited, she’s saying that she deserves a bit of a break for the wedding. You wholeheartedly agree with her. 

“But guys, I swear, you two need to let loose and party a little. I’m gonna make everyone drink and party like crazy this week- this is definitely not the extent of our festivities.” MJ chirps excitedly, and pays the cashier while telling him to keep the change. 

You sit outside on the patio, looking at a cobblestone street full of Italians and tourists alike.l.

Peter takes a bite of his gelato. It’s a rich, smooth raspberry flavour, and you knew he was going to get it. It’s one of your usual Florentine traditions.

MJ got a new cheesecake tiramisu- apparently sacrilege to the Food Gods of Italy, as the cashier told her he got yelled at by a couple of Nonnas earlier- but she loves it, absolutely grins at the flavours melting on her tongue.

“Better than NYC cheesecake?” You ask, and she nods, taking another massive spoonful. You’re glad to see that MJ is eating, and she definitely seems less stressed.

“Who says tech kids don’t party?” Peter starts, and MJ laughs as he becomes a little offended. “No, really. We might work hard but we still like having fun. Right, Howlett?”

“Is this fun you speak of just between you two?” MJ asks teasingly, but Peter’s face turns red and she lets it go. “Really. This week shouldn’t just be blah blah wedding stuff. I want to make sure we’re all having fun and doing things we want to do.”

You take a bite of your own basil-mint gelato, in a very appealing light green colour. The flavour might not sound good, but it’s really like a refreshing, minty sorbet, not that savoury at all. Just herby.

“Can we choose what to do?” You ask, but MJ is just waving your question away.

“You don’t even have to ask. We’ll try to do anything you guys want.” MJ beams. “And don’t even worry about the other guests- there’s no strict itinerary in place other than our dinner parties, so they probably will want to do other things, and they definitely can.”

“Whoa, whoa, Howlett.” Peter suddenly holds up a finger. “You’ve just got some sprinkles on your face…”

Peter reaches out with a thumb and gently swipes the edge of your lip, and your cheek,and some sprinkles fall off towards the ground. Then, in the most disgustingly lascivious, possibly slutty, kind of perverted way that only Peter could do, he sucks on his thumb.

“Hm. Minty.” He grins, popping his thumb back out, and it takes all of your willpower not to retort back, because Peter has been like this for ages and you refuse to believe that it’s genuine flirting.

MJ looks between the two of you, having trouble believing that you’re both so oblivious.

/ 

When you just make it back to the Villa, there’s a lot of splashing, and some loud Italian electronic music playing in the front yard. MJ rolls her eyes, but she smiles. “That must be Harry.”

MJ waves him down, and Harry swims upward, glad to see a few familiar faces. 

“Lettie, Peter, it’s me!” Harry pulls himself up off the ledge of the pool, and he looks just as rich-boy-tired-but-chic as you’ve always remembered. Those heavy eyebags have never gone away. He’s sopping wet as he hugs you guys, drenching you both in tons of water.

“Ugh- Har, are you serious-”

“Yeah, Harry!” Peter shoves him lightly. “We’re totally wet now.”

“Yeah, but you guys love it.” Harry snickers. “What the hell are you wearing, anyways? Where’s the Italian finery? Do I need to call a maid over to help-”

“Oh, god, don’t get started on that, please.” Peter pinches his brow, with a small smile because he knows his friend. “We’ll change now, okay?”

“In that case-” Harry shoves Peter, who falls and bumps into you, and you both fall into the pool, water immersing you quite quickly. The blue ceramic tiles of the pool fill your vision, and you kick upwards. You resurface, and pull your hair back, panting, and Peter is shaking his hair, trying to get it out of his face.

“You okay?” Peter asks immediately, and you have to fight down the thought that of course that would be the first thing Peter would say, and you nod.

“We just gotta get this clown back for that.” You lean forwards, and tug Harry’s ankle, which causes him to fall in with a splash, too.

“Now you guys are having fun, damn it.” Harry splutters when he resurfaces. “I missed you guys.” 

It’s very touching, but now you have to actually go change and shower when you just wanted to rest a bit before the rehearsal, and that’s a tad bit annoying. Just like Harry usually is- but you can’t help but like him anyways.

Harry tries to hug MJ as you all walk towards the villa- and she rebukes him, holding her hands out and saying that her dress will be ruined if it gets wet. Harry instead places a sopping wet kiss on her forehead, and she groans loudly, but you know she likes it. It still makes you feel a little alone- being a third wheel. 

Well, at least Peter is one, too.

What’s distracting you is how Peter’s shirt seems to cling to his waist when it’s wet, and you can’t help but stare, seeing taut stomach muscles through the damp parts of his shirt. You shake your head and wonder why everyone had to turn hot except for you.

/

When you step out of the shower, just in a white terrycloth towel, MJ is waiting at your bed, and you flinch for a moment.

“Jesus!” You start, and then see her smiling. “Next time just tell me you’re gonna be in here, or knock or something.”

“Will do.” MJ stares at her nails. “Have you decided what you’re going to wear to the rehearsal?”

“Not really.” 

“It’s a informal-formal affair. I guess semi-formal.” MJ tells you, as you start getting ready for it. “I’ve picked out a few dresses you can wear.”

There’s a few dresses crowded around in the massive wardrobe when you look, but the first one that catches your eyes is a lovely deep yellow, with embroidered white flowers through our the ruched bustier and long skirt, and very teeny spaghetti straps. It matches your bedroom, strangely enough, since the walls are a nice pale yellow hue, and the canopy over your four-pillar bed is a pretty ivory shade. 

When you’ve tried it on, MJ immediately starts clapping.

“Chill out, I’ve barely even tried it on properly!” You say sheepishly, fixing the skirt so it flows out better, and she giggles.

“It just looks beautiful on you.” She asserts, not a hint of irony or wit or any sort of sardonic tone in her voice, and you sigh, knowing that MJ doesn’t lie about fashion.

“Thanks.” You are still bad at taking compliments, and she knows, so she doesn’t take offense.

MJ wordlessly slides a very, very nice weighty gold bangle on your wrist, and before you can express that it’s too much, she gently tells you it’s a special gift for her maid of honour.

“Oh.” You grin. “I wonder if Peter gets anything similar?”

“Depends on if Harry actually tried.” MJ sniffs, somewhat jokingly.

/

After a bit of makeup (MJ tells you that in Italy you only need a sheer, glowy base like a bit of concealer or a skin tint, a lip and cheek tint, and maybe a little more eyeliner and mascara than usual since that’s what the style is here, and you’re wondering if you’ve been secretly Italian this whole time with this extremely natural, less-is-more look) and some small heels because you know you’ll never be able to rock the 6-inch heels that MJ does as a model, you’re now waiting downstairs.

MJ is wearing a corset sundress, with more elaborate ribbon straps tying the dress tightly across her waist, and the pattern reminds you of those blue-and-white china plates. She looks amazing, of course, and she’s donned a practice veil, apparently not the real thing.

MJ is explaining something about what you’re supposed to do as you walk in the church, but you’re not really listening, because Peter has just walked down the steps from his side of the Villa, towards the main hall. Where you and MJ are sitting on one of the couches.

He’s absentmindedly fixing his hair, not really paying attention to where he’s walking, and he just looks unfairly good. Like MJ-level modelesque, and you feel your breath catch in your throat for a moment. Peter’s wearing a basil green button up top, and casual khaki dress pants, and even though you always teased him for getting sunburned easily as you grew up together, somehow these colours are matching his complexion perfectly, making his skin have a golden hue that you swear you’ve never noticed before.

You bite your lip and look at the ground, unable to really look at him.

“Hey. Is the car here yet?” Peter asks, and you shake your head. MJ has a laugh deep in her throat, just threatening to come out. 

You wish you weren’t so obvious.

“Anyways. Like I was trying to say, except Lettie really wasn’t listening.” MJ taps her acrylics against the little side table next to her, and Peter nods, listening.

He’s a little distracted, too- that shade of yellow somehow complements your complexion exactly, and something about you looks glowy and ethereal in a way that Peter doesn’t think you looked like back in NYC, but then he feels weirdly defensive and wants to think that you’ve always looked pretty, and then he internally fumes at the idea that he has always been attracted to you, and is only noticing now, apparently? That can’t be true, right? He’s not that dumb, right?

He decides he’s just going to blame something in Italy’s air.

The car honks outside, and you stand up, ready to go. Peter stands up a little too quickly too- and he bumps into you, and you fall a teeny bit forward, and Peter’s hand grasps around your wrist, steadying you.

“Thanks.” You smile up at him, and Peter feels a disgusting amount of affection.

/

The wedding rehearsal goes on pretty easily, if not for the fact that everyone seems to be distracted by how beautiful the Florence Cathedral is. You tell Peter as much, and he looks wistfully up to the tall domed ceiling, and down back at you, holding your gaze for a little too long, and agrees that it is beautiful.

You have no idea why every conversation with Peter seems to make you feel soft.

MJ’s mother, Madeline, and Harry’s mother, Emily, both walk down the aisle first, and they do so easily- you hadn’t seen them when you arrived, but it turns out they were out shopping all day, so here they are now. It is crazy how much Madeline you can see in MJ’s face. Harry, on the other hand, must take after his father.

Then it’s Harry’s father, Norman, the absolutely intimidating CEO who you really hope isn’t as terrifying as all your colleague buddies have said. Everyone’s who’s ever interviewed at Oscorp knows what they mean. He’s not here in Italy yet, obviously on important Oscorp business, so you breathe a teeny sigh of relief for that.

After that, it’s Harry, who walks down with a bit more of a strut than necessary… the priest side eyes him.

Then it’s time for the other bridesmaids and groomsmen. Gayle, MJ’s sister, isn’t here, and neither is Gwen, Betty, or the groomsmen- it seems that they’ll all be here Tuesday, with MJ’s model friends as well. You feel a bit bad for her, because so far it only seems like you and Peter’s families are the only extended people really cared to show up at this point, but that’s what happens with destination weddings sometimes. Not everyone can take time off, just like that.

Then it’s time for you and Peter to walk down the aisle. He raises his arm for you to hold onto, and walks at a pace that’s pretty slow, which is what MJ wanted so photographers could take good pictures of everyone. It’s kind of funny- you feel like a kid again, when you and Peter would have to pose at Logan’s insistence for pictures.

Even now, Logan is snapping pictures as he sits in a pew, and it feels like a long walk until you reach the front of the altar, where everyone else is. 

Peter is warm, and he smells good- some kind of citrusy soap that makes you think of the lemon gardens in front of the Villa. 

“Hey, Howlett.” Peter whispers from gritted teeth. “Nice bracelet. Did that cost half your paycheque, or what?”

“Uh, no. MJ got it for me.” You snort under your breath as you walk, and Peter nods with an approving look.

“I guess we’re matching. Harry did the same thing.” Peter tugs his sleeve slightly, and shows off his own gold chain bracelet. Whereas yours looks feminine and dainty, delicate in how it hangs on your wrist, Peter’s is significantly more masculine, with chain links and a more rugged detail running through them. Still, it does scream matching, and you have to think MJ and Harry did it on purpose.

You tell yourself it’s just a friendship thing. Or a maid of honour-best man thing.

Peter feels soft, reliable to hold onto- you don’t want to let go when you’ve reached the altar. But you do, because you have to go to the side where the bridesmaids are supposed to be standing.

As you make your standing there, Peter does a tiny little wave at you, and smiles, and you do, too. 

You watch as MJ sashays down the aisle with her father- he’s been napping all day- but you wonder if the bride should be acting like a model, exactly? It’s not that she doesn’t look amazing, it’s just not very churchlike.

MJ stops herself halfway down, looking somewhat irritated at herself. “Wait- nope, I’m starting over. Sorry, daddy.” 

She begins again, holding onto her father’s arm, and this time, it’s a slow walk that demonstrates what a shy, blushing bride MJ can be, and you know if she really wanted to, she could be an actress.

You catch Harry looking at her, with a wistful smile- but Peter looks rather fond of her too, and you can’t decide if it’s just friendship, or if he wishes she was his.

You wonder if anyone will ever look at you like that. Just as you look away, Peter shoots a glance at you, hoping that you notice.

[medea10]

My Review of Rurouni Kenshin (2023)

If you grew up in the 1990s and early 2000s, chances are you’ve come across this title.

Rurouni Kenshin’s original anime aired in Japan from 1996-1998. It managed to make it out west with being licensed by Media Blasters and aired on Cartoon Network’s Toonami block in the early 2000s. With 95 episodes to its name, Rurouni Kenshin was pretty popular everywhere. In later years, a couple of OVA’s were released. One of them was a prequel that was never seen outside of the manga. The second one was a sequel to the main series that goes in a different route from the manga. And the third was a retelling of one of the series best moments.

And just laying it out there, yes, this series is sadly also known as “Samurai X”. I say “sadly” due to what was done to the series with that name. What with the bastardization of people’s names and what have you! The name of the series is Rurouni Kenshin. If you see that other name, turn around and don’t look back.

Now, does this series live up to the hype? Yes and no. While this was one of Japan’s most rewatched animes of all time, the series could have been better. Pretty much everything after what is known as the Kyoto Arc is seen as garbage to many. In some cases, they’re not wrong. It’s just a sea of fillers until the series ended in 1998. I guess some of the blame could be that they changed studio hands during the run of the original anime. Studio Deen has such a lousy reputation for messing with a good thing.

Case and point, Rozen Maiden 2013!

It’s just that when Kenshin gets into the swing of things, it’s a thrill to watch. So, having a retelling of the story and have it be faithful to the manga is welcoming for long-time fans and curious newbies.

Just. One. Thing. Though.

THE ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM: Nobuhiro Watsuki is the creator of Rurouni Kenshin. Back in late 2017 while he was releasing more Rurouni Kenshin in manga form, it was discovered that he was in possession of child pornography. This news alone is an immediate red flag, drop everything, cancel this bro right stat now kind of thing. What happened was he was arrested, paid a fine, and went back to releasing his manga after a several-month hiatus.

Obviously, everything about the story is disgusting. I’m not sure how much child porn was removed from this man’s place but I feel like it was somewhere between what Jared Fogle had and a fuck-ton. And now every fan is having this moral dilemma of watching this anime if it’s supporting this man. When it comes to me, fuck yeah, I’m still watching it. Do you have any idea how many things I still watch where the original creator is a fuck-bucket? And don’t lie, you probably do the same. Ren and Stimpy, The Loud House, Rick & Morty, Earthworm Jim, all of these and more are the product of some sick ass-banana. Just keep that in mind before tossing stones. You all know who you are and you all aren’t squeaky clean in what you watch. None of us are.

In the end, it’s your call to make on watching this or reading anything else that comes from Watsuki. Certain companies have made their call already when it comes to Rurouni Kenshin. Weekly Shounen Jump still prints whatever Watsuki puts out. Viz Media however has put an end to the latest Rurouni Kenshin manga that’s been put out in the last few years, but has kept the original manga up.

OKAY, NOW LET’S ACTUALLY TALK ABOUT THE ANIME: I know it’s a lot to go over, I just felt it necessary to do the frank discussion before I talk about the anime. This anime is a full reboot. That means, it’ll be a different studio animating it, it will supposedly take after the manga instead of diverting into a different path like the original series, and yes, the cast will be different. Which cast? All of them!

Rurouni Kenshin goes like this. It has been well over a decade since the end of a brutal war. With the entering of the Meiji era, peace was assumed as weapons like swords are banned. Of course, that won’t stop people from killing. And the never-ending fight with the government can cause this peaceful time…it was never really peaceful. Kenshin Himura is a wandering rurouni. He carries with him a double-edged sword despite the sword ban law put in place. Prior to this moment, Kenshin was known as “Hitokiri Battosai”, a ruthless killer. But after certain events, Kenshin swears to never kill again.

One day, he meets a young girl named Kaoru Kamiya. She’s the owner of a dojo that specializes in a certain style. At first, she confronts Kenshin thinking he is the dreaded Hitokiri Battosai. Most of it was a misunderstanding because yes, Kenshin is that, but he’s not the one using the name in vain and using Kaoru’s fighting style. After several incidents between the characters, Kenshin decided to set up shop and stay with Kaoru at her dojo. Eventually, two other characters join along. Yahiko, an orphaned boy who is training to be a great swordsman one day. And Sano, who once served during the brutal war is now a bit of a drifter. But he’ll have Kenshin’s back when they’re in a battle.

BETWEEN THE NEW SUB AND THE NEW DUB…AND EVERYTHING ELSE: I’ve gone on in length about the dubs to Rurouni Kenshin in the past. Prior to the 2023 remake, there were a total of three English dubs. The first one was for the original television run featuring Richard Cansino, Dorothy Elias-Fahn, and Wendee Lee. This was dubbed by Media Blasters. The second one consisted of the OVA’s featuring folks like Shannon Weaver, Gray Haddock, and Katherine Catmull. These were dubbed by ADV films and later Sentai Filmworks. And as for the third dub, that would be Sony’s sad attempt at redubbing Rurouni Kenshin filled with bastard names, a bastard name title, and new voices.

In the beginning, I was hoping for the absolute best-case scenario when it came to an English dub for this retelling. When it comes to me, I will always pick the first dub and that is for one big freakin’ thing. Steven Blum voicing Makoto Shishio. That and I always thought Richard Cansino was the best Kenshin. I’ve already been disappointed when Sentai didn’t reunite the original cast when retelling the Kyoto Arc several years ago and that’s why my skepticism is in play here. Plus, I’m pretty sure some of the original dub cast has already retired from voice acting. Sadly, the original voice for Misao (Philece Sampler) passed away in 2021. Much to my dismay, there was a new cast alright. Who they are was the bigger question.

Crunchyroll dropped the episodes without warning three months after the premier and without stating who would be in the cast. That’s certainly out of character for them. They get chatty when showering the masses who is going to be in an English dub cast everywhere they can including all social media platforms. I would have chalked it up to the SAG-AFTRA strike. But then I remembered, Crunchyroll has a conniption when it comes to that certain union. Plus, it never stopped them before as they’ve been whoring other English lists that same week this dropped. So, the obvious reason has got to be fear of having the audience badger the cast for being in Rurouni Kenshin after what the creator did. Only Kenshin’s voice actor came forward a week after the actor’s strike. The rest, most of us had to guess. Except for Yahiko, he just sounded like an angrier Gon. So, it’s Erica Mendez.

Just so you know, Aniplex had a live festival with seiyuus promoting the shows they’re on back in September of 2023. And what do you know, Souma Saitou and Rie Takahashi were on stage promoting Rurouni Kenshin. Out and about, no one getting doxxed, threatened, hate-mailed, or anything of the sort. I have a few scattered thoughts here. First of all, if there’s any bad-mouthing of Rie Takahashi of any kind, you and I are going to have a problem. Second of all, American fan-bases are fucking toxic and would harass the voice actors relentlessly to the point of no return. And third, why couldn’t they just come up with some fake-ass alias names for the English cast? On the other hand, I’ve seen how people on social media has harassed voice actors over trivial bullshit and it’s only getting worse. So, I kinda understand why this happened.

As for the sub, yes, the voices here have changed. So, when I originally watched Rurouni Kenshin, I watched nearly everything dubbed. It wasn’t until much later when I stumbled upon the sub, I discovered that Kenshin was voiced by a woman. Now, I’m getting another case of whiplash as I’m getting used to hearing Kenshin having more of a manlier voice. With all of that said, here’s the cast of Rurouni Kenshin 2023!

JAPANESE CAST: *Kenshin is now played by Souma Saitou (known for Diavolo on Jojo’s Pt. 5, Yamaguchi on Haikyuu, Kain on Rinne, and Miyano on Sasaki to Miyano)

*Kaoru is now played by Rie Takahashi (known for Ai on Oshi no Ko, Megumin on Konosuba, Emilia on Re:Zero, Sumi on Rent-A-Girlfriend, Ena on Laid-Back Camp, Mash on Fate/Grand Order, and Tomo on Tomo-chan is a Girl)

*Yahiko is now played by Makoto Koichi (known for Elza on Interspecies Reviewers, Young Jun on Tomo-chan is a Girl, Sumika on Yuri is my Job, and Sakura on Lycoris Recoil)

*Sanosuke is now played by Taku Yashiro (known for Friede on Pokemon Horizons, Natsuo on Domestic Girlfriend, Kouichi on Horimiya, Vulcan on Fire Force, and Arai on Chainsaw Man)

ENGLISH CAST: *Kenshin is now played by Howard Wang (known for Piers on Pokemon Journeys, Anastasia on Jojo’s Pt. 6, Kokonoi on Tokyo Revengers, Atsushi on Lovely Complex, Goshiki on Haikyuu, and Chuusaku on Komi-san)

*Kaoru is now played by Risa Mei (known for Futaba on My Senpai is Annoying)

*Yahiko is now played by Erica Mendez (known for Gon on Hunter x Hunter, Haruka/Uranus on Sailor Moon [redub], Ryuko on Kill la Kill, Raphtalia on Shield Hero, Retsuko on Aggretsuko, and Megumin on Konosuba)

*Sanosuke is now played by Darius Johnson

SHIPPING: Can I delve into this topic without going off the deep end and bringing up spoilers?

No, not really. These spoilers are over 30 years old. Deal with it.

Kenshin x Kaoru is a ship that has set sailed into the sea. No matter how much sex appeal Megumi can throw at it! Trust me on the matter, it’s a signed deal. I know that it almost seems one-sided in these 24 episodes, but that’s how it is.

WHAT TO COVER: In a reboot, you’ve gotta see what this version kept and what they didn’t and if it’s all in the right part of the story. Of course, we get the stories everyone is used to with this series like Kaoru being duped by that old creep and the debuts of Sano and Yahiko. Near the halfway mark, we’re already introduced to Aoshi and watched Kenshin and Sano take on the drug lords that were using Megumi. There have been a couple of episodes dedicated to some familiar storylines like Sano’s old comrade and the young lad Yutarou who wound up on the wrong side of the blade. Meanwhile, I’m squirming around in my seat waiting to hear something from a certain awesome villain. I have made no secret to loving the Kyoto arc and its main villain, Makoto Shishio.

Come episode 19, I heard his name uttered and know that it’s coming up.

Wait a sec! There are only 5 episodes left in the season. If this studio dares to even cram the whole Kyoto arc in that short amount of time, I’m throwing this entire media out the window. There’s gotta be a second season. Even if it’s only like 12 episodes that covers the span of the Kyoto arc, it’s better than the worst-case scenario. Thankfully, they did not cram the entire Kyoto arc into an episode. No mad man would ever do…Studio Deen would do that.

Case and point, Rozen Maiden 2013!

I am now being informed that I have already insulted Studio Deen’s attempt with Rozen Maiden twice now in this review. Let me get back to what I was saying. Thank the great good lord those guys are not in charge of Rurouni Kenshin again.

Actually, two of these episodes were a flashback episode that was originally an extra chapter to the manga. And if you’re wondering if this flashback episode contains Kenshin back when he was the legendary manslayer, it does not. It’s a story of Kenshin a couple of months prior to meeting Kaoru and the rest. For Kenshin’s past…just watch the OVA’s from 30 years ago.

The final episodes of the season set the stage up for the Kyoto arc with the introduction to Hajime Saito. Ten years prior, he was a bit of a rival to Kenshin back when he was the noted manslayer. Now, Hajime is part of the Shinsengumi. Kenshin and Hajime end up facing off like back in the day and he wound up reverting back to his manslayer mode.

Apparently, Kenshin can turn off that mode with a punch in the face.

As one does! The last time Kenshin was in that mode was when Kaoru was kidnapped earlier in the series. This time, Kaoru’s voice had no effect. This moment leads to Kenshin’s crucial decision at the end of the season. After the spar, he is confronted by Okubo Toshimichi, the man who has been trying to make the Meiji era a more peaceful time. He asks Kenshin for help of taking out a certain someone. Yes, it’s Makoto Shishio. Also known as, the man who just won’t die. Case and point, he’s been stabbed, knocked unconscious, and even set on fire. He’s still standing! Hell, he’s even known as the new Hitokiri Battosai manslayer. Kenshin gave this a lot of thought as he wants to remain peaceful and never kill again. Unfortunately, he’s given no choice when Okubo…well, he…

He fucked around and found out!

One of Shishio’s commrades (Soujiro Seta) murdered Okubo and sent a stark warning to Kenshin about going forward with anything brash. Kenshin truly wants for a peaceful nation and doesn’t want to kill again. In the final moments, we see him have a few precious moments with Kaoru before proceeding to leave her.

DON’T CRY, FANS! HE AIN’T GONE FOREVER! But a season two must, must, must, must, MUST COME!

Thankfully, two days after the finale we get the announcement that Rurouni Kenshin is indeed getting a sequel in 2024. Unknown to when in 2024, if the same studio will be doing it, how many episodes it’s going to be, or if Steven Blum is going to return as the voice of Shishio. Seeing as NO ONE from the original English cast has returned to do this project, I’ll shut up about it...

For now.

Was this a great reboot? That’s your call to make. For me, it’s too early to tell as there’s only been 24 episodes and none of them are the classic Kyoto arc. It’s too preliminary to call it a masterpiece or trash. Manga readers are somewhat split as they will always find fault with everything. Not every anime adaptation is going to do everything by the book and that’s their conniption. I read the manga too and I wasn’t picky about the adaptation. It’s not like they skipped 50 chapters and went right into unknown territory.

And before you say, “Oh, there goes Medea again bashing Rozen Maiden 2013”. NO! I was actually poking at The Promised Neverland this time.

Thankfully, Rurouni Kenshin was done well. The art was beautiful. LIDENFILMS did a spectacular job. If you’re not familiar with the studio, they have recently done Call of the Night and Tokyo Revengers. The music was great. Every opening and ending were bangers. Reol was the real stand-out star in that department. They kept the language Kenshin uses when he speaks, that they did. I’m satisfied. I know more fans would want to see some more footage of Kenshin back when he was the notorious Battosai. I’m just going to say to be patient. You’ll see some stuff soon enough. And if you’re an impatient fuck, the OVA’s are around. Trust & Betrayal will give you what you want.

Can I recommend this? Not without having a giant elephant sitting on my shoulders.

For now, Crunchyroll has Rurouni Kenshin 2023 available for streaming.

Now then, for those who are looking for the original series, OVA, and even the live-action movies, here’s where to find them.

The original 96-episode series is currently on Hulu. The recent live-action movies are currently available on Netflix. All of the OVA’s (Trust & Betrayal, Reflections, and Kyoto-arc retelling), I can’t seem to find them streaming wise. Also, unsure if the hard copies are out of print or not.

[sugarfluffandallthatgoodstuff]

To the Floor, From the rat

Sukuna x Reader crack

@kmayafk and @ari-tart-3114 helped out with this

By: 3 crackheads (HAHA! YOU THOUGHT IT WAS ONE BUTS ITS ACTUALLY dio- i mean THREE 👹)

Disclaimer: dangerous amounts of crack ahead. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED hehehe 👹. totally scary topics like rats with…penis??

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Summary: you are Sukuna’s maid and you’re paid to clean his enormous penthouse (and maybe something ELSE enormous but who really knows 👀). 

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Good god not the floors again!

Why does Master Sukuna always have me clean the floors?! Like, I could be cleaning literally anything else, but it’s always the floors *cries*. 

Maybe he just wants to see my non-existent ass? Who fucking knows at this point.

I rarely see the guy too. It's always a little rear glimpse here and maybe a sliver of hair there

He only tells me these things via text too, like I’ve never heard his voice. The other maids are starting to spread rumors around him. 

Some say he’s like ultra hot but an absolute dick but also that he’s like incredibly smart and doesn’t fuck around (his bedsheets really do beg to differ though, like good god the amount of cum stains on his bedspread)

He’s been having female visitors and it always ends with the woman crying and running away (coward). 

Some of the maids say his female visitors run away purely from seeing how enormous his cock is. Some even say it's because he continues till the visitor faints, even after they say no. 

Another says they run away from his expectations and are only there for their own pleasure

So now he just goes to hotels and such because why bring those women to his house and waste his time

Oh geez, thinking about Master Sukuna made me go toward his room.

Though I know he isn’t home and he didn’t ask me to clean up his room but hey what could be the harm though there’s still flooring in there so technically…

So now I find myself in his room with my jaw hitting the floor with how large it is. I look around more and find a wall full of pictures of women with “x” marks on them. 

Is he “thank you next” ing them?!?!

Before I can process, I see a small stash of pictures of the maids.

Oh no, oh no. He isn't-

“And who gave you permission to enter my room?”

I turn around and see him.

Sukuna.

“The floor gang!” I shouted at the strange unfamiliar man, supposedly the master of this house. It was almost as if a quest to get fired popped up.

Sukuna closed his eyes and sighs. He grabs a cigarette and proceeds to smoke. I look at him, wondering if he is going to fire me, or worse. 

It was then a tiny little furball scampered across the room. It seemed to be a screaming kitten that appears to have fallen into a trashcan as he was covered in trash. 

“QUICK GET THAT RAT” Sukuna screamed, causing me to jolt. 

“But master Sukuna why would you have a cat and not see it as such?”I chased the supposed kitten, now fearing for my life.

 As I tried to pounce on it, the kitten screamed out a weird noise. “SHEEEEEEESHH”

“Jeez you can’t even catch a small cat, what the fuck did I hire you for again?!?!”

“To make vegan eggs”

“Oh yes. You do make a pretty bussin vegan omlette”

Sukuna laughs, but then realizes something.  “Wait…What even the fuck is a vegan omlette?”

“A spicy version of connect 4” I answered snarkily.

“i-I what?”

Sukuna begins to look at me confused, but proceeds to keep his composure. 

“Don’t change the subject. Why were you in my room?”

“Well you see…” I looked around the room for an excuse and for a moment I didn’t have one

But catching sight of a statue on the floor that was clearly soiled. “That. I had to clean that, it’s clearly a biohazard.” “This?” Sukuna picks up the statue, showing some sort of mythical creature, a groundhog perhaps? No. A rat. Some will say it is a rat penis. 

“Y-yes sir it looked like it made a mess everywhere sir” 

“There is no need.” He quickly pocketed the questionable statue. “But since you’re here, I have a favor to ask of you…”

Ooooooh is it finally happening?!?! The moment all of us maids have been waiting for?!?!

“Can you draw what exactly a rat penis is??”

OH WHAT THE HECK??

Before I can even say anything, the world around me begins to fade away. My eyes start to feel exhausted. 

“Why am I feeling so… sleepy?”

“I see the drug is finally taking its effect on you”

I look at him, and gasp in shock. No way, how in tarnation was he able to drug me while we talked about the rat penis?

“WHEN DID YOU HAVE TIME TO DRUG ME WHAT THE FUCK?”

“By the very statue that led you here. It was diffusing sleep powder into the air that only works on scrubs like yourself.” Sukuna grinned over my collapsed form on the ground. 

I start to feel very dizzy. The last thing i see is Sukuna’s smirking face. 

“You shouldn’t have come in here naughty pet”

“Now put these on” He held out a headband with some strange animal ears along with a long pink tail clip thing. 

Funny how he thinks I have the strength to do so

LE TIMESKIP

I wake up, for some reason, very sore, 

My neck.

My back.

WHY AM I SORE. AND WAIT A MINUTE….

AM I WEARING A RAT COSTUME??

AND TIED UP TO THE BED?!?!?

WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS

AM I A RAT OR AM I A LADY?!? 

I notice a piece of paper next to the bed lamp. The paper said. 

Once a rat, always a rat.

I fume in anger. 

“Ah, it seems you’ve finally awakened” The monster I've come to know as Sukuna walks in, with the most punchable look on his face. If only I wasn’t tied up like this, I’d send this jerk flying. 

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK MAN. I WAS DRUGGED AND YOU DO THIS TO ME? AND WHY IS MY BACK SORE?”

“It’s not my fault you hit the ground too hard.” {hehe you thought us 3 did something there} He walks over with an intense stare especially at the rat costume. 

I close my eyes. I look at the handcuffs, and rip it from the bed. 

“You really thought this was going to contain me?” mistake number 1 as I would later find out

“This is what it means to go even further beyond!” I charge at Sukuna, not caring for the consequences. “PLUS ULTRA” I swung as hard as I could, but at the last second my back gave out and I became like a worm on the floor writhing in pain. And he dodged it 

“Pathetic. Did you expect me to praise you?”

I look at him and give him a matching grin

“No, but look what I have”

I grab the same drug he used on me. His eyes go wide

“Wait-”

I spray it on him and he immediately goes to sleep. 

I make sure that he is asleep and immediately run out of the room. I grab my things from the servant quarters and run for it. Various maids looked on as I ran, I realized that I am still wearing the rat costume (AHHH SHIIIIIT).  

I then realize that I am like all those other women he fucks with, except dressed like a rat. I cannot be in a room with that… monster.

But is it cowardly to quit? Maybe. Is it the best option for the time being? Yes.

It truly is a shame he’s hot. During our encounter I noticed many MMA awards on his walls on that luscious deep red paint coat.

“I see the rat has found my awards” It was as if Sukuna had teleported behind me. 

I jump. HOW THE FUCK WAS HE AWAKE AND I HAD CRASHED?!

“Using my very own rat penis against me… Perhaps you are the one I’ve always been searching for.” With a swift grasp, he grabbed me like a potato sack, but more like a rat sack…

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK MAN” I fought against him, pulling his hair like a child.

He pulled me into an embrace, not letting me go. 

“You really gotta tone down the rat fetish man”

Sukuna’s grin only widened. “You sure are feisty. I think I’ll keep you, my little rat.” He isn’t fazed in the slightest by my attacks. 

I try to think of a smart remark to say back, but I can’t. This weird feeling I am having cannot be described in words. 

“You can keep me, but the rats gotta go,” I blurted out without thinking.

“...”

“So you’re saying I can keep you?” Sukuna’s eyes glistened mischievously. Surely he was plotting something to get his way, after all he firmly believed in his favorite quote: “Once a rat, always a rat”.

“NO GET YOUR STUPID RAT PENIS OUT OF MY FACE”

He grabs me by the waist and carries me bridal style (insert wedding music)

Afraid of falling, I instinctively clutched onto him, which caused Sukuna to have the most annoying grin on his face. At this point, I’d much rather be dropped. Afterall the floor is basically my home in this accursed place. 

“So my little rat…” Sukuna looked down at me, “Where to next?”

I look at Sukuna.

“The Floor, you dumb rat”

“Who’s the rat now?” I cackle.

The end fool.

Or not 👀.

69 likes and it could happen.

The retuuuuurn of the raaat

[confettiepup]

I can’t wait to move out with my mom and have our dream appartement and my dream littlespace room 🥺💕 I’ll make a post soon on my future projects about it!

Tw vent: Abusive behaviour/gaslighting dad

My mom and I wants to leave the house as soon as possible because of how abusive my dad is. We can’t go now because my grandma is dependent to my mom because of her bad health so we have to stay there for her. A neighbour is supposedly leaving this Summer which means we could have a chance if it’s true. But the chances are low :( I’m also disabled and can’t live alone for now, so moving with my mom is the most realistic thing that can be done for now.

Until then my mom and I keep this dream in mind and try to avoid my dad as most as possible and ignore his tantrums. I really don’t feel safe home. It’s not our home but his home. He’s constantly gaslighting us, have no patience, is purposely creating fights and looking for something to complain about every day and I skip lots of triggering stuff. I can’t focus on healing when I constantly feel like walking on eggs at home. We have to constantly watch out for what we’re going to say because he may take it badly and explode.

I’m constantly stressed when he’s home, even at night when he’s sleeping because he might get up and go in my room to complain. I can’t be myself at all. All my projects are down for now because I’m too drained. Even therapy is about how to deal with him now. Even when I’m sick he have no pity, it’s all about him. Little me cannot take it anymore but the only thing that makes us happy is the idea of getting away.

Getting little stuff without being judged

Not having to hide my littlespace gear

Being free to walk around the house, being in a room other than my room and feel free

Be able to make a « mess » by doing activities outside of my room like coloring on the kitchen table, doing crafts playing on the floor in the living room while watching TV without feeling the urge to clean up and gtf out of the room to stop bothering

Playing music in the house, any volume we want without complains and be told to turn it off

Having karaoke nights with my mom without complains

Playing videogames together without being told that we’re annoying

Watching our types of movies and series without being judged

Talking about what we want together, laugh without him telling us to shut up because he’s trying to focus on his game

Not being afraid to eat in front of him without being scared to be judged

Going out and not him calling her to get back because it’s been too long and he wants to get his dinner, chores done and will have a tantrum back home and make her feel like shit for coming home « so late » (she have NO social life because of him)

Not being called crazy when we speak up about whats wrong

Simply living without him, too much could be added

My mom and I are literally praying to get out as soon as possible, my dad is just getting more and more worst. We’ll need to get money as most as we can, I might start to open drawing commissions soon because I’m currently not having a job because of therapy and my disability :(. We will work so hard to get out of here.

[spellbook-gayboy]

Drabble 27 ~

27.

“What? How can you tell me to leave them when they slander me so?!” Thula sneered. “Grrahh, I should tear her head from her shoulders!”

Kyle had to hold his wife back and stop her from committing murder in public. “Hey, hey, it’s just a PTA meeting! Meredith ain’t a threat, honey, just a bible-thumping soccer mom!” He reassured her, trying to keep from literally tearing into the woman.

“She dares to insinuate that my abilities as a mother are inadequate... because I don’t know how to make a pie?!” Thula scowled. She seethed in the direction of the smug middle-aged woman across the room, who was currently engrossed in bragging about her cooking skills to the small gaggle of parents that had gathered around her. “I will have vengeance upon her!”

Kyle, meanwhile, was still trying to get them out of the room before someone died. “Yep, and I’m sure you will, darling! Just don’t kill anyone in the process, ‘kay?”

A light came on in Thula’s head. Her husband was right. In fact, if all went according to plan, she wouldn’t even need to kill anyone. “Yes... we should go, now.”

“My thoughts exactly!”

---

Thula sat in the nearly empty office of the family farmhouse, staring at the note-covered bulletin board in front of her. Her fingers drummed the arm of the chair, and her face was etched with a sly half-smile. The board was chock full of various pieces of intelligence and overheard gossip about the other parents and teachers from the elementary school, and nestled in the centre of this web was her target: Meredith De Vries, mother of four and the unapologetic owner of that ugly Ford Ranger that always took up twice the amount of parking spaces as were needed. She was a human peacock, flaunting and bragging her way around town, always yammering on about her successful lawyer husband and big fancy suburb house (Thula was terrified the first time she went into the suburbs), and how she was the president of the Homeowners’ Association and the Parent-Teacher Association and this thing and that thing and all manner of things that Thula couldn’t care less about. The only thing about her that did interest her was an event that was quickly oncoming: the PTA church social, supposedly meant to raise funds for school supplies, but instead likely another chance for Meredith to show off. But if Thula could surpass her, upstage the woman at her event, it would be social destruction- no, social dismemberment. The thought filled Thula with glee. 

“Simon, dear?” She called, and a raven-haired boy poked his head around the corner. Simon was the younger of their two children, born almost two years to the day after his sister, and taking much more after her, including developing the usual abilities of a Viltrumite at just seven years old. “Could you call your father in, please?”

“Okay, Ma!” He chirped. Despite looking like a male version of Thula, Simon had all the tone and mannerisms of his father. He glided across the floor and out the back door, the wind whooshing slightly beneath his feet. After a couple of minutes of silence, Kyle trod in, dressed in his usual ‘I have just cleaned the pig pens and don’t even want to think about mud for the next three hours’ attire. 

“Yeah honey, what is i- sweet baby Jesus!” He exclaimed, eyes going wide at the state of the office. “Uh, listen darling, you know I love it when you get all creative, but uh... what the hell is this, exactly?”

“This, dear husband, is victory. And for Meredith, it is complete and utter destruction!” Thula explained with an almost wicked smile across her face. 

Kyle’s brows creased. “Okay, so before I hear anymore of this, you’re not actually gonna like... hurt her, are you?”

“Oh absolutely not, dear! And that is the true genius of my strategy,” Thula replied, “for I will ruin her life without laying a finger upon her! Allow me to explain...”

---

The day had arrived. The parents, teachers and children turned up in droves outside the church, slowly filtering onto the green where the many tables of food both sweet and savoury. The battlefield was set. Now she just had to wait for the enemy to arrive. 

It didn’t take long. The awful grumbling of that Ford Ranger could be heard getting closer, and soon enough, the monstrous vehicle roared into the parking lot, swinging around to fill three parking spaces. Meredith had to clamber down from the driver’s seat due to her short stature, gathering up a few armfuls of Tupperware before almost race-walking over. Her face was as smug as always, but it soon changed once she came face-to-face with Thula. 

The tables at which parents could display their food for sale were taken on a ‘first come first serve’ basis, and the one that Thula had chosen was perhaps one of the best: in the central area of the green, but also quite visible to anyone who was just coming in, making it already one of the most popular stalls so far, with her and her husband already having collected a handsome sum of money. But another reason, perhaps the most important, was that Meredith had near-constantly implied that this table would be hers, and while the others might’ve been too afraid to even think of going against her, Thula had faced much worse than her, and only respected the rules of the social. First come first serve, indeed. 

“Meredith, dear! So glad you could make it!” She greeted, the fake cheeriness obvious. While on any other day, she would levy every curse that Viltrum had to offer, today she had to keep up the façade of the normal human housewife in order for her plan to succeed. Instead of trying to strangle the other woman, Thula instead made a gesture towards the various baked goods on her stall. “Anything catch your eye? I’d recommend my husband’s apple pie if you’re looking something with a fruity kick!”

Meredith didn’t say anything, just kept that scowl across her face and moved off, quietly grumbling. That made Thula feel good. “Uh oh,” She heard from her right, “She looks like she’s gonna blow a gasket!”

“Stage one of the plan is complete. Now for stage two.”

“What’s stage two, again?”

“Simple, dear: we fundraise.”

For the next couple of hours, they went about their business, selling more and more of their sweet cakes and fruity pies as the day passed. Occasionally, Thula would steal glances behind herself to keep tabs on Meredith. For all of her supposed popularity with the other parents, her stall was far from busy. In fact, in the entire time she had been there, she had barely shifted any stock whatsoever. The only thing that was changing regularly was the shade of red on her face, and how quickly it got darker. Now for the coup de grace. Thula waited until Meredith noticed her staring, then flashed her best shit-eating grin and paired it with a wave. 

The effect was almost instant, Meredith visibly growling and stomping over to her stall. She jabbed a finger towards Thula in an accusatory manner, demanding “Just who do you think you are?”

“I’m sorry, Meredith, are you feeling alright?” She asked, slowly brushing the finger away. “You look terrible!” 

Meredith’s eyes looked like they were going to pop from their sockets in anger. “You knew that this this was my stall, madam! It’s not polite to take someone else’s stall!”

“Oh, was this your stall? I apologise, but as far as I was aware, these stalls were filled on a first come basis!” Thula replied, desperately trying to conceal her laughter behind a large smile. “Oh, are the parking spaces also on that same basis, because I remember someone having a problem with the position of your Ford!”

Despite how innocuous she believed that comment seemed, apparently it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. “Oh, you uppity bitch!” Meredith swore aloud, drawing gasps from around her, before rearing he hand and slapping Thula across the face. Despite possibly being the weakest attack she had ever received, Thula acted as if it had actually hurt her, stumbling just enough to seem believable and covering her cheek, more to hide the lack of damage. 

Meredith, meanwhile, hadn’t even stopped to realise how badly she had messed up, pivoting on her heel before stomping away to her vehicle. A balding man in a nice suit ran after her, and Kyle raced over not long after. Despite looking and acting concerned, his words were perfectly calm: “So, plan succeeded?”

“Absolutely.”

[thmgau]

CHAPTER 27 - ERRANDS, CHORES, & OTHER VARIOUS JOBS [wattpad]

---

“But you said you were gonna take me back to the Castle today!” “I know, but I’m busy today..”

To Juniper’s surprise, Alph had gotten back to them relatively quickly, & they had gotten the job. Juniper felt lucky, since most employers don’t really hire that quickly. Maybe it was because Juniper & Alph already knew each other, from the theater incident. Either way, Juniper was grateful for it.

“Maybe one of the others can get you there.” Juniper said, putting on xyr shoes. “Ughhh,” Juno groaned. “I guess so.” “I’m sorry, bud.”

Juno huffed. Juniper could tell she was upset, especially since voi said voi would take her to the Castle yesterday. It sucked to not be able to fulfill Juno’s request, but Juno was lying. Juniper hoped he didn't suspect anything.

“See ya later.” xae said, grabbing xaer backpack. “Tomorrow. I promise.” “You said that yesterday!”

Ignoring Juno, Juniper made pheir way out of the dorm room & out to the bus stop. She still hadn't told the rest of the group about the job at the puppet shop yet. The whole Juno business was more important than that.

The bus drove up to the stop. Juniper hopped on the bus & sat in a random empty spot. As they got comfortable, the bus started driving again.

Juniper popped in aer earbuds & put on the music to make the ride go faster. It wasn't anything much, just Missed the Friction by sElf.

Vae sighed, looking out of the window. Kalani had stopped by the day before to give xym a letter, supposedly from the Celestials. The letter referred to them as “Flexibility,” which they were choosing to ignore, but the letter also mentioned that Juno planned on destroying the Sands of Time.

What were the Sands of Time? Why were they so important? The letter said that the Sands of Time being destroyed caused a danger to everybody, but why? Juniper was desperate for answers.

The bus rolled to a stop. Juniper looked up, noticing ey were at eir stop.

Thanking the bus driver, Juniper hopped off the bus & walked the rest of the way to work. As previously mentioned, it was a janitorial job. All Juniper had to do was clean. That was easy! Ze could do that! The prospect of Sotry being one of vivs coworkers was.. not very exciting, but Juniper was sure vivs first day would go fine.

-

Picking up trash in the park wasn't necessarily Nora or Kalani’s first choice, but someone’s gotta do it. Besides, they needed something to keep them busy, & it was on the schedule Cherry sent in the group chat.

“So is Sorrel getting a job too?” “Uh.. maybe? I’d have to ask.” “They should. It’d help out a lot, especially if they're gonna be living with you for a while.”

Nora picked up a few candy wrappers with her trash grabber. “I know they had a part-time job back in Cali, but they probably had to quit to move back here.” “That makes sense.” Kalani shrugged, using her trash picker to grab an empty, crushed soda can.

“By the way, that letter we got.. it said something about having to freeze Juno, right?” “That.. is correct. If the Auction House isn't completely destroyed, I was thinking we could do it there.” “God, the Auction House. Almost forgot that place existed. Who let that building stay up for as long as it did?” “Beats me. Guess the Cincinnati government didn't care about the human freezer in the Auction House.”

Nora & Kalani put the trash in their respective trash bags as a small gust of wind whooshed by them.

“So if we’re using the Auction House’s freezer.. how are we gonna get Juno in there?” “I.. actually don't know. We should plan this out sometime.” “Well, we better plan it out soon then! How about Friday, at Arby’s?” “Sounds good to me. I’ll text the others once I get the chance.”

-

Dog-walking wasn’t that bad. It was actually quite good for keeping Cherry’s stamina up. What sucked about it is the fact that these dogs had a specific path for their walks.

Leashes in one hand, map in the other.. not the most effective way to walk a dog, but Cherry needed the cash. She took a right turn down the sidewalk, making sure the dogs didn't start straying from the path. Who knew dog-walking could be so exhausting?

Cherry had no music to listen to during their walk, so the best they could get right now was their thoughts. These thoughts currently drifted toward her mother.

The way most people would describe Sienna Russell was influential, powerful, & modest. Cherry would describe her as a giant pain in the ass. As the eldest child, Cherry was always expected to be a role model, to be the example. Also as the eldest child, her mother critiqued every single thing about Cherry.

It was always “Your dress isn't long enough,” or “Don’t wear your hair down,” or “You should wear more makeup.” Things of that nature. Cherry just wanted to wear what she wanted, & do what she wanted, with no snarky remarks from her mother.

When college finally came around, Cherry thought that this would give her the freedom she had been craving all her life. Even though her mother expected her to wear dresses & act all high & mighty at college, Cherry knew they could get away with not doing it. It wasn't like she’d find out or anything.

Except, she did, when Poppy & Carmine told her mother about the mall. For the past few years, Cherry had been coasting off of the rent payments & occasional checks from their mother, but now.. that was gone.

In a sense, that also meant Cherry's mom was gone from her life as well. If her kid isn’t going to uphold the family standards, then why bother?

This gave Cherry an idea. She knew exactly what she was going to do once she returned back to her dorm room.

-

“So what's it like to work at Dollar General?”

Leslie stood next to the Dollar General register, talking to none other than Natalie. Since Leslie had applied for a job at Dollar General, Natalie seemed like a safe bet to talk about what it's like there.

“Ah.. it sucks? It’s just like any other job, really.” Natalie shrugged. “I'm usually on register duty, so I get the worst of it. Stocking items is alright though.” “I see, I see..” Leslie hummed, writing down notes in a tiny notepad. “I don't plan on working at Dollar General forever, so.. don't get used to it?” “Alright.. I can do that.” “My real dream is to be a big Twitch streamer!” Natalie proclaimed. “Unfortunately.. that doesn't quite pay the bills just yet.” “Oh!”

Leslie seemed quite surprised by this. This was the first time Natalie had ever mentioned livestreaming.

“This is news to me! You stream on Twitch?” it asked, interested. “Well- Occasionally, yes,” Natalie replied, fidgeting with her hands. “I'm not that big. I've only got, like, 20 concurrent viewers.” “20’s pretty good! I’m sure you'll get there eventually! Just keep at it!”

Natalie smiled, her face blushing light red at Leslie's comment.

“..Thanks, Les.”

-

“So, how’re you likin’ the job so far?” “Oh, it’s great!”

Juniper was currently on his lunch break, & so he was eating a peanut butter & jelly sandwich. Alph decided to join phem with an Italian sandwich of his own. Work had actually been quite nice so far, if Juniper just ignored Sotry glaring at aem the whole time.

Speaking of Sotry, Juniper was curious as to how he even ended up working at the puppet shop after the incident at the theater.

“So, ah..” Juniper started, taking a bite out of purrs sandwich. “If I may ask, how.. did Sotry end up working here?”

“Oh, funny you mention that! That's the first time anyone's ever asked!” “Really?” “Yeah!” Alph nodded. “You remember that little ‘president of the world’ schtick Sotry tried ‘ta pull, right?” “How could I forget? He tried to stab me.”

“Well, I had a talkin’ with him that night, after all that stuff at the theater happened. As it turns out, I had indeed accidentally given ‘im sentience! Can't believe it took me months to figure that out, heh. Anyways, after chattin’ with him for a little while ‘bout some things, we decided to come up with a little proposition. As long as he doesn't try anything like what he did at the theater again, he can work at the shop!”

Juniper nodded along, paying attention to every word Alph was telling him.

“& what happened to the other puppets?” Juniper asked, taking another bite out of dews sandwich. “I.. haven’t quite figured out what to do with ‘em yet.” Alph shrugged. “They’re currently sittin’ in the back, turned off completely. I was considerin’ making them employees too, but.. they’re not like Sotry.”

Not like Sotry? What did Alph mean by that? Juniper remembered something Sotry had said during their battle at the theater, about him programming “false sentience” into the other 4 puppets. Maybe that was it.

Or maybe, it was because Sotry was supposed to be the star of the show. It was both Alph & Sotry’s intention for Sotry to rise to fame, even if their methods.. differed. Even if Sotry tried to take over the world, it was still Alph’s creation. She probably cares a lot about Sotry if she was willing to keep him around.

An alarm on Alph's phone rang as Juniper took the last bite out of zyr sandwich.

“Oh! Break time’s over!” Alph said, finishing off his sandwich. “Back to work we go!” “Yup.. back to work indeed.”

-

It was a bright new day for Nora. Thursday the 23rd, around 6 days until rent was due. She had applied to a few different places, but none of them had gotten back to her yet, which was unfortunate.

She didn't let it get to her, though! Nora was confident she’d get the money needed in time, especially with Sorrel around.

Speaking of Sorrel, they had attempted to make pancakes this morning. The pancakes were a tad bit overcooked, & there was a little bit too much egg in them, but it was the thought that counted.

“Thanks for the pancakes,” she said, taking a bite of her food.

“Least I could do.” Sorrel shrugged, eating their own pancakes as well. “The job hunt can be hard. It took me forever to get that job back in Cali.”

“Yeah. & on the topic of jobs, you should try & get one too.”

Sorrel raised an eyebrow.

“Are you sure about that?” “Of course! It'd help with rent, & if you're planning on moving out eventually, you'll need money for your own place.” “Huh. I guess so.”

They took another bite out of their pancakes, thinking about Nora’s suggestion.

Nora continued to eat her own food as well, now thinking about why Sorrel was so apprehensive toward the idea of getting a new job. She knew their parents still didn't know about Sorrel dropping out. If Sorrel got a job somewhere their parents were likely to go, they’d be in hot water. So..

“I know exactly where you should get a job.”

-

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” “Of course!”

Kalani had brought Leslie along to break into the (now shut-down) Auction House. He wanted to see if that freezer was still in there, & if it still worked.

The door to the Auction House, along with its windows, was boarded up, due to its closure. The duo assumed it was gonna go up for sale soon, but the freezer that turns people into statues would probably have to be removed first.

“Well..” Leslie sighed. “Let’s get these boards down!”

Kalani & Leslie grasped onto the boards nailed over the entrance of the Auction House & started tearing at them with all of their might. No matter how much they pulled & tugged at the boards, they would not budge.

“Jeez, whoever put these boards up nailed ‘em pretty tight.” “Yeah.. guess we’ve gotta do this the fast way.” “Guess so. Let’s do it.”

As it turns out, Leslie & Kalani had vastly different visions for what “the fast way” was. Leslie tugged on their necklace & transformed into Hero Mode while Kalani was preparing to ram into the wooden boards.

“Kalani- Kalani, wait! What are you doing?!” “Huh? I was gonna bust the boards down!” “Why?! We can just use our weapons!” “Oh. I didn’t think of that.”

Kalani transformed into Hero Mode as well, summoning her wand.

“Let’s do this!”

Using the wand, Kalani bursted a few magic shots into the wooden boards, making some holes. Leslie used its scythes to rip the boards off, allowing for an easy entrance.

They started heading into the Auction House, Kalani stepping inside first as Leslie followed. The place looked totally different from the last time they were here. The lights were all out, the only source of it being from the cracks in the boarded-up windows. Tables were knocked over, vases were shattered, & surprisingly, the door down to the basement was opened up.

“The basement door is open? Strange..” “At least we don’t have to bust it open.” “True.”

Walking carefully & being sure not to step or trip on anything, the duo made it down to the basement, which was not in any better shape than the upstairs. Unlike upstairs, the basement had no light source whatsoever, meaning Kalani & Leslie weren’t able to see anything.

“Don’t worry! This is easily solvable!”

Transforming out of Hero Mode, Kalani grabbed his phone from his pocket & turned on the flashlight. Now with a source of light, the duo could continue their expedition.

The hallway right after the stairs stretched in both directions, & Kalani couldn’t remember which way the freezer was, so she & Leslie started heading toward the right. The flashlight from Kalani’s phone illuminated the dark hallway just enough for the two of them to walk through it.

“Hey, ‘Lani?” “‘Sup, Les?” “Doesn’t this hallway feel... longer to you than it did before?” “A little bit. Maybe this isn’t the right way..”

As the duo continued down the hall, they came across a room with a sign upon the door, which read “DO NOT ENTER (unless you’re Puck)” written on it in purple marker.

“..Puck? Who’s Puck?” “Huh.. I’m not sure. Based on all the purple though... I’d be willing to guess that ‘Puck’ is The Auctioneer’s real name.” “They have a real name?” “I guess so? We won’t find out unless we get into this room.”

Kalani grabbed a hold of the doorknob & turned it open. To her surprise, the door was unlocked. Both of them stepped carefully into the room. Kalani shone the flashlight around to see what it was like inside of the room.

It was unnervingly neat, unlike the rest of the now-abandoned Auction House. Old, dusty pictures, photo albums, & even a diary were in this room. There was no lightswitch on the wall, but rather a pull-chain that hung below a ceiling light. Leslie pulled on the chain. The light flickered on for a few seconds, & then it powered off again.

“Ah, darn. Light doesn’t work.” “Unfortunate.”

Due to the lack of a functional ceiling light, Kalani opted to just use his phone flashlight to look around.

“Hey, ‘Lani? Can you shine your light over here?” Leslie asked.

Kalani turned over to shine the light over at Leslie, & whatever they were holding. It was an old photo of 3 kids, none of which Leslie or Kalani immediately recognized.

One of them was a ginger kid, wearing a green dress & their curly hair was tied up in pigtails. The next was a kid with brown hair, wearing a blue tank top & a pink skirt. The final one was a kid with short, black hair, wearing a purple t-shirt with a star on it.

All three of them were posing in the photo, with the kid in the purple shirt in the middle. There were words written in childish handwriting on the photo in Sharpie. It read “Best Friends 4ever!”, & all of the kids had signed their names. Quinn, Brooklyn, &... Puck.

“Was this.. was this The Auctioneer when he was younger?” “I think so..” “So they used to be human, just like us..” “Huh... do you remember what The Auctioneer said during our battle? He mentioned that he had been stuck in a freezer for about a year or so. Maybe that’s what made them all.. blue.”

Setting the old photo down, Leslie continued looking around the room with the help of Kalani’s flashlight shining the way. A lot of the items in this room consisted of photos similar to the one they had just looked at.

“Yo, Les! Check this out!”

Kalani had found a diary with a purple cover sitting upon a shelf, surrounded by various books & manuals on the art of auctioning.

“This must be their diary..!” “Looks old.. like everything else in this room.”

He took the diary out of its place on the shelf & opened it up. The first entry was dated back to early 2019, & it went into great detail on how The Auctioneer ended up getting into auctioneering in the first place, how it was his life goal to own an auction house, & much more. Some of the entries after that talked mainly about how their days have been & some obscure auctioning facts.

“Kalani, I don't think we should be looking through this diary..” “I mean, what are the chances they're gonna find out?” “Probably low, but.. aren't we supposed to be looking for the freezer?” “Oh, shit- The freezer! You're so right, Les!”

Kalani closed the diary shut. “He probably wouldn't mind if I took this to read in my free time, would he?” “I'm sure he would mind if he ever found out, but.. there’s a reason they left it here.” “Yeah. Let's go, uh, find that freezer now.”

-

Work was quite slow today.

Maybe nobody wanted to buy any puppets today, or maybe people were just busy. Either way, the shop was nearly empty, which left Juniper a lot of room to sweep & dust around. Ey had eir headphones on listening to music while cleaning, which ey were grateful for. Any other job probably wouldn't have allowed Juniper to listen to music on the clock.

As Juniper finished up sweeping the aisles, he took a look around & noticed that it was just him & Sotry inside the shop. Alph must've gone out to get some supplies, Juniper thought.

For the past day & a half Juniper had been working at the puppet shop so far, Sotry had been avoiding conversation with xym. Juniper was fine with that, considering their history together.

“Juniper.”

It was Sotry who had said that. Juniper could tell, even with their music on.

“What's up?” Juniper asked, taking zir headphones off. “Come over here.” “..why?” “Just do it.”

Juniper was not about to argue with the puppet that nearly stabbed her, so she obliged & walked closer to the register.

“Alph has told me to apologize to you for the.. incident at the theater. Unfortunately for him, I am not very sorry, & will not be doing that.” “Oh, ah-” “If Alph asks, you tell her I apologized to you. Got it?” “Uhh, yeah.. no, I’m not doing that.” Juniper shrugged.

Sotry didn't seem very surprised about Juniper’s denial.

“I should have expected this.” it groaned. “You're quite stubborn, after all.” “That I am, my friend! But, like, seriously? Maybe stop lying to Alph.” “Why should I?”

Juniper sighed. “Alph kept you around for a reason, Sotry. She cares about you, whether you like it or not. The least you could do is to stop hiding things from him.”

Sotry fell silent, pondering this. Before either of them could say much more, though, the door to the shop opened up as Alph returned with some new supplies in hand.

“Howdy, y’all!” “Oh, Alph! Welcome back!” “..greetings.”

“Aw, look at you two gettin’ along!” Alph smiled. “Knew y'all would get to bein’ friends eventually!”

“Friends” is not the term that Juniper would have to currently describe zaer relationship with Sotry, & based on the conversation they just had, Sotry wouldn't use that term either.

Acquaintances seemed more befitting. They knew each other, sure, but they certainly were not friends. Juniper hoped that maybe one day, Sotry would stop being so sour.

Today was not that day, though.

[hareofhrair]

So I realized I accidentally reblogged part 3 attached to part one instead of this one like a dingus, so I'm reposting it in the correct spot now, while I let you know that part 4 is well under way, I've just been drowning in work and not able to mess with it. I'll probably be able to get into it again at the end of the month. Till then, those of you who haven't seen part 3 because it was posted wrong, here you go!

---

Realized I’d hit over 2k again, so here’s part 3 of god knows how many. There’s some stretchs in this one I think I’ll probably cut when I finish this and clean it up into something more finished, but it’s here for posterity.

Moving on to the second floor, there are a few interesting things about the landing to note. The first is the crudely repaired railing, apparently never replaced after Barbera’s death. One might question why, in a house with a carpenter as skilled as Sven (and whoever was making those peepholes for the bedroom doors) the railing was left in such a state for 57 years. But the most obvious answer is probably the same reason Edie keeps a photo of the moment Sven fell to his death on the dresser next to her bed. Just another morbid monument to death. Then again, if that were the case, why repair it all, and in such a slipshod manner? Edie generally puts a lot more effort into her memorials.

Oh, but I’m getting slightly ahead of myself. You’re probably asking why the broken railing would be a memorial when, in Barbara’s story, it’s the hook man who falls through it!

Please don’t tell me I have to convince you the hook man isn’t real.

Barbara’s story is probably the most overtly fictional in the game, though there are others equally fabricated, if not moreso. I take it as a kind of neon sign pointing to the fact that you can’t trust any of these stories.

Barbara’s comic book alleges that she was stuck at home babysitting Walter on Halloween night, after Sven cut himself on a table saw and had to be rushed to the hospital. Supposedly her boyfriend, Rick, was also present, helping her practice her acting. After he scares her, she throws him out, and he’s never seen again. She then hears Walter scream upstairs and goes to check on him. At which point an escaped murderer with a hook for a hand appears and tries to kill her. She knocks him through the railing of the second floor landing, apparently killing him, but when she goes downstairs, he’s gone, and she’s attacked by a crowd of monsters and devoured, leaving only her ear behind.

The whole story is so sensationalized that’s it’s difficult to point out any direct contradictions. There’s nothing that can be easily corroborated. Obviously the hook man and the mob of monsters aren’t real. But clearly someone fell through that railing. And obviously, Barbara ended up dead.

Everything else is pure speculation.

So Barbara’s boyfriend, Rick. He’s certainly a character, right? Wears sunglasses at night, indoors. Strange guy.

At the end of the story, he disappears, and is mentioned nowhere else in the game, ever again. Correction: There is one doodle of him in Barbara’s room, but that could straight up be Rick Astley for all we know.

And he had a cast on his leg, which is never explained.

It’s definitely difficult to point out any provable falsehoods in Barbara’s story.

But I can point out one pretty glaring lie of omission, one thing the story carefully pretends doesn’t exist. Or more precisely, two things.

And they should be on your mind already, since you had to pass through their room to get to Barbara’s anyway.

Where are Sam and Calvin?

They would have been 10 when this happened, 2 years older than Walter. Whatever happened, they were almost certainly present for. But the story seems to forget them entirely.

Well, not entirely.

Because, weird coincidence, you know who else had a cast on their leg? A cast which is quite worn and probably due to be removed soon when we see it almost exactly a year later?

Rick doesn’t exist. He’s as fake as the hookman. Rick is Calvin.

(Or, if we take the one doodle as evidence, maybe Rick existed, but I don’t think he was a significant actor in what happened that night)

Here’s my version of events, speculation though it may be.

Sven cuts his hand and has to go to the hospital. This interrupts Walter and Sam and Calvin’s trick or treating, so they’re in not great moods. And as children of that age tend to do when annoyed and left without adult supervision, they get into trouble.

There’s a bit of a muddle in the middle here, depending on how much of the events of the comic you want to try to transpose, and how much to dismiss as fabricated. Do they sneak down to the basement and scare Barbara there? Does Barbara throw Calvin out of the house in retaliation?

Whatever else happened, I’m relatively solid on what happens at the end. The boys decide to play a trick on Barbara. Walter screams to get Barbara to come up stairs. Notice, in the game, how a roller skate tumbles down the stairs as she approaches them. Notice also, that you can’t approach the entrance to the secret passage, and your view of it is blocked. But there’s a skeleton posed next to it, looking directly at it, to draw your attention to where it should be.

Barbara gets to the top of the stairs and Calvin jumps out to scare her. She stumbles backwards, slips on a rollerskate, and goes through the railing.

Calvin just killed his big sister, and his brothers both saw it. Sam was probably watching from the secret passage at the time, I’d guess.

And now they’re alone in the house with their sister’s dead body, on Halloween night. Two ten year olds, and an eight year old, who believe they’ve just murdered their sister.

And we have Chekov’s tablesaw sitting in the basement.

All that was left of her was an ear.

So that’s pretty grim! It’s also less solid than I’d like it to be. What did they do with Barbara’s remains? How did they manage to operate the tablesaw to dismember her at all without hurting themselves? I don’t love it, but it’s a possible course of events.

Here’s another possibility, just to drive home how much of this is pure speculation. Maybe Rick was there, and the version in the comic is an amalgam of his and Calvin’s actions. I find it interesting that Rick wears shades to hide his eyes, and the hookman’s eyes are the only part of him visible.

Maybe, hidden in the secret passage, the boys witness Barbara accidentally kill Rick. Maybe she’s the one going ham with the tablesaw. The ear is a very non essential body part. Maybe she faked her own death and ran off to hollywood. But, given how clear the devs are about the fact that– at the point in time which the story happens– Milton is still alive, Barbara presumably didn’t make it very far after she left.

Another possible course of events involves the basement, and everything we’ve already established is down there.

During Barbara’s story, Rick— who we’ve established is a stand in for Calvin— goes down to the basement, and Barbara goes in after him. She finds him in the fridge, which we know now hides the entrance to the underground bunker, and presumably always has.

Maybe that’s how Walter first learned about it. Maybe nothing after that point in the story is real, and everything that happened to Barbara, that scared Sam and Calvin so badly, happened down there.

I will say, both Sam and Walter seemed to have a better understanding of the mechanics of the curse than you’d expect. Walter seems to have successfully evaded being killed by it for decades by hiding in the bunker, and left knowing his time would be short. There’s also numerous books in his bunker about the curse and other paranormal subjects, as though he were hunting for a way to break it. And Sam argues with Kay about the curse, presumably trying to warn her what would happen if she tried to take Gregory from the house. Maybe this is when they both heard the secret history of the Finch family.

In Sven’s work shop, Barbara sees the totem pole Sven was working on, which depicts all of his and Edie’s children. Molly’s segment is already finished. Calvin’s segment sits on the work bench, still in progress.

This serves both to remind you that Calvin exists and you should be wondering where he is in this story, and as another subtle indication that someone is lying.

The totem pole doesn’t just depict Sven’s children. It depicts their deaths.

Molly is at the top, transformed into a bird. Below her is Calvin, on the swingset, with his cast. Below him is Barbara, screaming and holding a crutch. Below her is the house, and below that is Walter, fully grown, not just under the house but holding it up, while sitting in a long boat, as though imitating Odin’s journey. Notice, no train.

Also notice, Sven died when Walter was 12. And if Barbara’s story is to be believed, he carved Calvin’s segment almost a year before Calvin died.

Either the entire appearance of that totem pole was fabricated by Edith (or by Christopher imagining a totem pole Edith didn’t fully describe) or Sven somehow predicted the deaths of his children.

Sorry, I misled you there when I said the totem pole depicts all Sven and Edie’s children. It depicts all but one of his children.

Sam’s not on the totem pole.

If adult Walter is on the pole, why not Sam? Sam died a full twenty-two years before Walter. Was there something different about Sam’s death, compared to the other four?

If we’ve learned anything so far, it’s that any time something is very obviously left out, it’s probably important.

But let’s return to the landing for now.

Whatever the other circumstances, someone, at some point, went through that second floor railing. But I’m not actually convinced it was Barbara. Or at least, I’m not convinced it went shoddily repaired for fifty seven years.

Who made the elaborate memorial settings for the peepholes? Edith implies it was Grandma Edie, and I’m inclined to believe her. She built the house with Sven after all. It makes sense she’d have some carpentry skill. And by the time the peepholes were made, the only people left in the house (that we know of) were Edie, Dawn, Lewis and Edith. There’s nothing to indicate Dawn, Lewis, or Edith had any interest in woodworking, so it’s pretty safe to assume Edie was the primary carpenter in the house by the end of things.

This is a tangent and I don’t know how it connects, but I think maybe somebody else fell through the railing a lot more recently. And I think maybe the reason it was so shoddily repaired is because the only person with carpentry skills in the house was incapacitated.

There’s one more thing on this landing that I think is important to notice, and that’s the stairs to the incredibly mysterious third floor.

There is, for some unfathomable reason, a door at the top the stairs which, Edith guesses, Dawn locked the night they left. Why?? Why do you have a door here at all?? Why does it have a lock??? Why was locking it such a priority that Dawn would have stopped to lock it when she was fleeing the house with literally nothing but the clothes on her back??? I have a theory about this but I don’t want to get into it just yet. Let me just also point out that there is an extension cord, plugged in beside Barbara’s door, which vanishes under the door to the third floor landing.

Moving on, the first room we enter is Walter’s, which has been emptied out, and doesn’t really count as the first room, since Walter’s memorial is elsewhere. But there are some interesting things to note here. Mainly that Dawn didn’t seal it to begin with, which is strange. And the fact that it was cleared out at all. Sam’s childhood bedroom wasn’t cleared out, even though he moved upstairs.

Then there’s the clear nautical themeing to the room, complete with the sunken wreck of the Old House. But then all of Walter’s stuff is actually train themed.

Edith makes the claim that Lewis said there was a secret passage here, but she didn’t believe him. Presumably, Dawn added the lock to this passage, and I would assume any other passages, at the same time she sealed the rooms— after Milton disappeared, when Edie was too young to have explored any of them.

“Turns out,” Edith says, “my mom was really good at keeping secrets.”

She’s not the only one.

But let’s just count that as a point towards the idea that Milton found something while exploring the house that he really shouldn’t have, or at least that’s what his mom suspects happened.

So we pass through Walter’s empty room, into the secret passage, which I really struggled to measure. Its proportions never seemed to match up correctly to what made sense on the floorplan. It might have just been the difficulty of measuring, but I wouldn’t be surprised if that space just genuinely doesn’t make sense.

We see the first of the Milton murals here, featuring Molly the Cat. And then Edith remarks “Reading this, it probably sounds like I had a plan. But I had no idea what was behind that door. Just like I had no idea where all this was going to lead.”

Certainly sounds like the dialogue of someone who uncovered no horrible family secrets.

On to Molly’s room! Architecturally, there are two things that stand out. One, the bathroom literally sticks out. That wall of Molly’s room is in line with the outer wall of the rest of the house. The bathroom, for some reason, projects well past that.

Now, unfortunately, it is EXTREMELY difficult to get a good look at that side of the house. I can’t rule out that there just is a weird extension tacked on to the house there. Though, from looking at the front of the house, it seems like that would interfere with the very large tree supporting the shanty-town tower. It’s weird, that’s all I’ll say, and I think deliberately so.

“The Shining” famously makes use of impossible architecture. Everyone remembers the kid riding his little trike down the hall and turning left four times just to end up somewhere else. This happens more subtly throughout the film— one of my favorites is a scene where the kid is sitting on a patterned carpet, and between one shot and the next the pattern on the rug has suddenly reversed. Between one shot and the next they ripped up all the carpet in that hallway and reinstalled it facing the other direction. Fucking insane. I love shit like that, where a ridiculous amount of work and effort has gone into a tiny detail that most will dismiss as an error, if they notice it at all.

But my favorite of these moments, in “the Shining” that is, happens well before they reach the hotel. It’s in the first scene, where they’re talking to the guy hiring them to essentially house sit the hotel for the off season. He leads them through the real estate company’s offices in a long, single shot with several right hand turns, until they reach his office, and there’s a big, bright window right behind his desk, in what all logic suggests should be an interior wall.

Details like this serve a very distinct purpose, even though the film draws little direct attention to them. Whether you consciously notice them or not, your brain picks up on these details as it tries to construct a mental map of the location, and the impossibilities send up red flags that your conscious mind has no context for. Something is wrong, something is off here, but you can’t tell what. It leaves you just slightly uneasy, waiting for a danger your brain is certain is there to show itself.

Needless to say, What Remains of Edith Finch is chock full of this shit.

And let me be clear— maybe you can rip out the 3D model of the house and turn it around and say, see, there’s just a weird extension tacked on to the house there, it makes perfect sense. Maybe the window in that guy’s office was looking into a courtyard in the center of the office complex. If you stretch, you can find a plausible explanation for anything. But that doesn’t get rid of the unease when you first see it. And the unease is the point.

A prominent feature of Molly’s room is that section of brick wall by her bed. If you hadn’t already gathered, that’s meant to be the backside of the fireplace, extending up into the next floor. Given what I’ve already told you about my theories regarding the fireplace, you can imagine the significance of that being in Molly’s room, especially painted with a mural that implies you could crawl into the fireplace and emerge in a fantasy world.

Other interesting touches— The chalkboard drawing featuring Molly in an underwater castle and a sea monster/dragon about to eat her dad, apparently predicting both of their deaths.

There’s a rough blueprint of the house on Molly’s desk, which outlines the secret passage between Walter and Molly’s room, and also the one from Sam and Calvin’s room to Barbara’s. Curiously, it doesn’t show the passage from the pink bathroom to Sam and Calvin’s room, and it’s possible it simply hadn’t been conceived of yet, but also there doesn’t seem to be much room for it regardless.

Of the 27 books found in her room, eight are nonfiction such as Birds of the Pacific Northwest and Mummification, four are adventure novels (Call of the Wild, White Fang), four are weird fiction or magical realism (Tales from Beyond, Jorge Luis Borges), five are fantasy or fairy tales (Alice in Wonderland, A Tale of Tales), and four are about the deceptive nature of memory (On Memory, In Search of Lost Time). The final two include The Magic Mountain, a satire of German bildungsroman heavily focused on death and the subjective nature of time.

And then there’s Nine Lives.

You could be forgiven for dismissing this one as being a reference to Molly’s fondness for cats. You’d be wrong though.

Nine Lives is a science fiction short story by Ursula K. Le Guin. In it, two men man a remote research station on a distant planet, when a “tenclone” is sent to assist them. The clone is ten individuals created from the same person’s genetic material. They are perfectly in sync with one another, to the point the two men begin to think they have some kind of shared cognition. Then nine of the clones are violently killed in an accident. The surviving clone vividly experiences each of their deaths, dying over and over with the other parts of himself.

Sound familiar at all?

Edith Finch and the Unreliable Narrator

Oh you thought I was done losing my shit over that game? Nah I’ve just been letting it ferment a while. This is just part one because I need to sleep, I’ll hit you with the rest later.

What Remains of Edith Finch has been analyzed pretty thoroughly through the years since its release, but none of the analysis I've seen has ever quite done it for me, in part because I think they are all overlooking an incredibly crucial element of the story.

This is a story about unreliable narrators.

It's not just a cheeky reference that House of Leaves is one of the books found throughout the Finch house. It too is about nested unreliable narration, and I believe is there to draw attention specifically to this element of the game. Edith is not telling us the truth. The stories she reads are not telling her the truth. The result is a matroyshka doll of contradictions and carefully unexamined clues.

Here's a few of the more blatant contradictions, just to prove my point.

Grandma Edie is wheelchair bound. Yet in the retelling of Edith's final night in the house, she sees Edie standing unassisted on the porch. But eh, it's difficult to see. Maybe she had a walker. (Edit: nah that's totally a walker forget this one)

So how about this little nugget.

We are given explicit dates for when Lewis died, when Edith and her mother left, and when Edie died.

Actually, we're given two explicit dates for when Edie died.

We have Lewis's date of death from his tombstone, as November 21, 2010. Edith specifies it was exactly a week after this (November 28) that her mother informed Edie they were leaving, and that same night they fled the house, leaving Edie alone. Edith claims Edie was found dead by nursing home carers the next morning, November 29.

The date on Edie's tombstone is December 5th. A solid week after Edith claims she died.

Here's one of my favorites. Walter is hit by a train that should not exist. The real life Orcas island does not have a train, but in most games I would simply write that off as artistic liberty.

But having a train on an island that small at all does not make sense. Furthermore, even if there were a train, why would the tunnel pass directly under a residential home? Having lived near train tracks, if it were that close to the house at all, the entire family would have been very aware of it, and yet it seems to have caught Walter by surprise. And where is it now? Did they shut it down after Walter was hit? And why would Walter take a sledgehammer to a random wall in the inexplicable tunnels below his already subterranean secret bunker, instead of just going up stairs? Was he afraid of going back through the house? And more importantly:

How does Edith know about any of this?

She had no idea Walter was down there.

("After Barbara died he got as far away as he could" is another lie btw. Walter didn't enter the bunker until he was 16, eight years after Barbara's death, the same year Dawn was born)

So what did they tell her when he died, in 2005, when she was about six years old? Maybe they hid it from her, she's a small child, maybe she just didn't remember. What did they tell her at literally any time after that when she presumably asked about Walter's grave in the family plot? She knew Walter existed, she played in his bedroom. Did she never ask where he was? What happened to him? She has a mysterious uncle she's never met, and then one day out of nowhere there's a new grave for him out back, and she doesn't ask for any explanation about that?

Walter's letter doesn't say he was hit by a train.

I bring this one up not because it's a particularly blatant contradiction, it's actually a pretty fuzzy one with a lot of weird, circumstantial explanations. But it leads into one I think is really important.

When Edith arrives at the house, she informs us the power has been cut off.

But after she leaves the bunker, lights begin turning on.

Eventually culminating in Edith's room being fully illuminated.

This is also the point at which she stops talking about investigating and wanting to find out the truth and switches to "Maybe there is no truth, actually! Maybe it was all just a self fulfilling prophecy and none of these bizarre situations mean anything! You should definitely NOT come here and dig deeper into it."

This is the point at which I think Edith switches from more or less honestly repeating unreliable stories she has no way of verifying, to straight up lying to us, in an effort to discourage her son from ever coming here. There's no answers here, she assures him. Stay away.

People who try to handwave this as a mundane situation, either caused by hereditary mental illness (some real ableist takes about that out there btw yall, yikes) or simply a string of unrelated tragedies highlighting the randomness of death, the complicated ways we grieve, and how sometimes when people die they leave behind unanswered questions that we simply have to live with— Are neglecting the aspects of the story which are blatantly fantastical.

This "string of unrelated tragedies" has been haunting this same family for over 500 years. To the degree there are multiple books written about the curse, by presumably non family members. A man sailed a house across the Atlantic for pete's sake. Even looking at just the deaths since the Finches arrived in America, you cannot tell me that's a normal amount of tragic, unnatural deaths. And Finches have apparently been dying this way and at this rate since the 1400's. You're really going to tell me that's just bad luck? If nothing else, the fact that the family hasn't died out yet with a death rate that high is proof of something unnatural.

How about the fact that Edith's mother was SO alarmed by Edie trying to give her that history of the family, that she got into a physical altercation with a 93 year old, then fled the house, literally just grabbed her kid and booked it, abandoning literally everything she owned, including mementos of her dead husband and children. And then she never came back for them.

If this was a simple case of Dawn and Edie having a personal disagreement, even a pretty intense one worth cutting someone off for, you would think at some point in the seven years following Edie's death, she might have wanted to come back and pick up her stuff!

What was it about Edie trying to give Edith that book that made Dawn change her plans from "we're going to move out" to "we are leaving immediately with the clothes on our backs and never coming back?"

Why does Dawn think Edie's stories killed her children?

And why does Edith never enter the library?

Once we're shown that final evening in the house, it's clear that Edith has known the secret passage into the library from the start. And yet, in the "present" of the game, she never enters it. We only see the inside of the library during her flashback.

You would think, of all the answers Edith might want, the biggest might be what was in that book Edie tried to give her. And if it's anywhere, it's probably still in the library.

But it doesn't come up. Edith, very carefully, I think, completely avoids the subject.

Let's talk about Milton for a minute.

Milton's story is the shortest and contains the least actual details about what may have happened to him. He simply disappeared. Important note, he's not the only one. Barbara's boyfriend also "just disappeared." If I had a nickle for every mysterious disappearance that's happened in this house, I'd have two nickles! Which isn't a lot, but hey, I think maybe any mysterious disappearances are unusual, let alone two.

According to the writers, Milton is the king in their other game "The Unfinished Swan," which is a surreal fantasy that takes place in a magic kingdom. Kind of rules out Milton having just fallen in the lake and drowned during a mental health episode, doesn't it? Kinda makes it explicit that something not normal is going on here, doesn't it?!

Milton's murals are in every secret passage in the house. He knew them all. He knew the house better than maybe anyone.

And when he disappeared, his mother's response was to seal the doors of all the bedrooms. Why? What did she think happened to him? What was her rational for this?

And even more bafflingly, Edie's response to this is to drill peepholes.

Dawn's response to her son's disappearance is to turn her dead relatives bedrooms into sealed tombs. Edie's response is to insist she be able to see into those tombs. And this was apparently an acceptable compromise to Dawn.

Notably, the one exception is Walter's room. There's a peephole under construction in the garage that was presumably for this room. But why did Dawn save that one for last? What made it such a low priority? The fact that there wasn't a memorial in there, because Walter was under the house instead?

Hey, I actually misled you a bit back there. I said she sealed up the bedrooms. That's not completely accurate.

She also sealed the library.

The library where Edie tries to give Edith the family history, that final night in the house.

How did Edie get into the library? I somehow doubt a wheel chair using 96 year old crawled through that secret passage.

Among the bedrooms Dawn sealed, one of them was Edie's. She didn't seal her own or Lewis's or Edith's rooms, so she clearly didn't expect them all to abandon the rooms they were using and sleep in the living areas. So where exactly was Edie sleeping?

Hey, so I actually misled you a bit there, when I said the library was the exception to Dawn only sealing up the old bedrooms.

There's a cot in the library.

Someone was sleeping in there.

During the flashback, Edith doesn't acknowledge it, so why is it there? What is it meant to imply? Was Edie sleeping down here instead of her bedroom upstairs? Sure, I could buy that, stairs are clearly an issue for her.

Except, remember, the door was sealed. Only accessible by crawling on all fours through a cabinet that's maybe 2ftx2ft.

The only remotely plausible scenario is that there is another, more elderly-accessible passage into the library, presumably (since there's no space for it anywhere else) somewhere in the HUGE portion of the third floor we never get to see, and which Dawn and family decided to build a shanty town on top of instead of live in. And that in the couple of minutes between when we hear Dawn and Edie arguing in the dining room and when Edie appears in the library, she booked it up two flights of stairs and down again. Plausible!

But Occam's Razor provides a much simpler explanation.

Edith is lying.

I think it's time to talk about the books.

The books that fill the Finch house are a constant, looming presence. And I do mean constant. There is nowhere in the house that they are not. They're in the secret passages, they're in Walter's bunker, they're in the basement— Literally everywhere.

A lot of the titles are repeated, over and over, and I think this one can safely be chalked up to the realities of making a video game. The amount of work it would take to make that many unique books, the hefty chunk it would add to the game's file size-- The impact it would have on the framerate alone, trying to render all the damn things! So I don't think it's surprising or particularly meaningful that the books repeat as often as they do.

But see, the thing is, they didn't just make one set of books and copy paste it into every room in the house.

Instead, every room gets its own, bespoke book collection, featuring a mix of repeated titles and books seen literally nowhere else.

You go back and read that paragraph up there about how resource intensive and insane it would be to make all the books unique, and then tell me the fact that they DID make them all unique (albeit in a slightly more practical fashion) doesn't mean anything.

So let's talk about some of the titles on display in the Finch house.

I already mentioned House of Leaves, a story about unreliable narrators and a house that grows an impossible hallway that can't physically fit in the space it occupies. I'm gonna talk some more about that later when I get to the maps, just you wait. It's one of the books that appears repeatedly through all rooms.

Other books seen throughout the house include: the Necronomicon. The King in Yellow. Infinite Jest. Gravity's Rainbow. The Weird. And three separate stories by Jorge Luis Borges.

The Necronomicon and The King in Yellow, as well as being allusions to the eldritch mythos of Lovecraft (which is its own whole bag of cats) have something in common with Infinite Jest. They all feature what you might call cognitohazards. Meaning, something that poses a danger to any person who has perceived it. By reading the Necronomicon, you irrevocably bring yourself into the awareness of Lovecraft's eldritch beings. The King in Yellow features a play, which when seen induces madness. Infinite Jest features a film which when viewed causes the subjects to lose all interest in anything other than watching it, eventually leading to their deaths. Additionally, they are all three named after the cognitohazard they feature, meaning it's impossible to tell if the books on the Finch's shelves are the stories that feature these things, or the things themselves.

Gravity's Rainbow and The Weird are two of many books featured in the house which are experimental and surreal or straight up part of the genre known as weird fiction. Defining weird fiction is sort of a debate on its own, but it's a relatively modern genre, applied retroactively to stories as far back as the 1930's but which experienced a resurgence (called the New Weird) in the 80's and 90's. To try and roughly describe it, it's a genre of supernatural fantasy and horror which features transgressive, experimental, and non traditional elements. Lovecraft is considered a writer of weird fiction. He described it thus:

"The true weird tale has something more than secret murder, bloody bones, or a sheeted form clanking chains according to rule. A certain atmosphere of breathless and unexplainable dread of outer, unknown forces must be present; and there must be a hint, expressed with a seriousness and portentousness becoming its subject, of that most terrible conception of the human brain—a malign and particular suspension or defeat of those fixed laws of Nature which are our only safeguard against the assaults of chaos and the daemons of unplumbed space."

What Remains of Edith Finch is, itself, a work of weird fiction. And that's not me talking out of my ass, the writers have said as much in interviews.

Which would then imply, by it's very nature, an element of the supernatural.

Just an element that you don't dare look at.