#Min is very unimpressed

[cider-est]

POV: You're being interrogated by 2 amateur detectives and they know you're full of shit.

REMINDER DO NOT REPOST

[ruegarding]

we win some, we lose others

[planet4546b]

i tried to read dead astronauts earlier this year and was mostly meh on it and now every time i listen to tin (the manhole) and choice mountain everything everything i just think that these two songs are doing successfully what that book was trying to do and wasn't successful at

[winwintea]

dreamies meeting their kid for the first time + as a parent

GROUP ↬ ot7 dream x reader (ft. their child)

TAGS/WARNINGS ↬ some angst, LOTS OF FLUFF MY TOOTH IS LITERALLY ROTTING, spider-mark agenda is real, the child is sometimes a cockblock, haechan does some weird michael jackson-sherlock holmes roleplay idk it made sense in my head, jaemin going on shopping sprees, chenle never loses, ji... is ji.... (poor baby)

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ everyone say thank you to @https-lvesick for getting me on that baby fever stuff... like i hate children but i love children. iykwim... anyways this is meeting their kid for the first time, but i can't come up with reasons why they were separated so you fill in the blanks. probably angsty reasons i love angst.

Mark Lee

when you come back through that door with a child holding your hand, it’s him you meet first again, and the tears are already glossing his eyes over before you can say anything.

literally has no words when you smile at him gently, saying it’s his.

mark swallows nervously, before making his way to the both of you, holding the two of you in his arms for only god knows how long.

“i.. can’t wait to live my life with you both, my love,” he mumbles into your hair, ears slightly tinged, only causing you to laugh at his adorable antics.

as a father, he isn’t very strict, and he isn’t all that good in child-rearing, either.

but he tries! give him some slack — you have to keep reminding yourself of this when you see your child holding a sword?! 

and of course mark was in his halloween costume. typical.

“baby.. i can explain,” mark says calmly when you first find the two of them

well actually, three; it seems haechan was in on this little practice, though he quickly bolted when he saw you. good strategy.

“엄마, papa said he was iron man! he teached me how to be a superhero!” your child exclaims, flailing the sword around excitedly as your gaze only darkens.

“well, you see, i meant spider-man, but—” his words die down when he sees your unimpressed face practically dripping with murderous intent.

mark slowly kneels down to whisper something you couldn't make out to your child. the little one nods seriously, slowly putting down the weapon.

then, as seconds pass, mark immediately hoists your child up in his arms, running out of the room as both his laughter and your child’s squeals echo throughout the halls.

“mark min-hyung lee, you are so dead!” you scream, running after them.

“3, 2, 1 — I COULD DO THIS ALL DAY!” the two of them scream back, before bursting into laughter. they’re always in sync. It’s exasperating.

but you love it anyways

Huang Renjun

when you meet him at the door, there's a flurry of emotions clear on renjun's face, but his smile says it all.

“is it too much to say i’ve been waiting for you this whole time?”

regrets the fact that he wasn’t able to be a part of his child’s life for the first few years, literally becomes wrapped around your little one’s finger because of it.

so adorable and happy that he’s blessed with your lovely child, always smiling when he thinks of them.

literally makes the other members question whether or not they want a child too.

bonding time is painting of course!

usually ends up with all three of you cramped in the shower, you scrubbing furiously at the sticky paint on their skin.

“i’m sorry for having you do this all the time,” renjun's soft voice makes you forget why you were mad in the first place tbh.

massages your shoulders from behind you, causing your fingers to halt in their journey of rubbing some stubborn blue paint off your child.

“it’ll take more than that if you wanna make it up to me,” you hum, leaning back into his chest and gazing into his eyes.

your lips were just about to meet, when —

“ma, i'm not clean yet!”

damn. cockblocked by your own child.

you groan, renjun laughing as he picks up the pouting child with their arms crossed.

“don’t give 妈妈 too much of a hard time, okay?” he never forgets to take care of you above all.

Lee Jeno

when you walk through that door once more, nervously telling jeno that this child is his, you’re afraid of his reaction.

and when you finally gather the courage to do it? his jaw drops and he can’t stop staring at you nor the child and you have to help him sit and calm down.

“아빠?” your child asks, staring up at the still slightly panicked jeno as you hold your breath.

he stares for a moment, mouth wide, before finally, finally smiling, albeit a little awkward and rough around the edges. “yes, little one?”

very new to this whole parenting thing and can barely do anything without asking you first, so he feels bad quite often for having to lean on you so much.

plus he barely knows how to handle a sobbing child, nor can he entertain the child very well,

but you find that the both of them are quite content in each other’s presence as is. so that's a plus !

you'll usually find them in jeno's room together, while you need jeno to watch your child while you go out for an errand or something.

but when you see jeno, well, he starts to look ethereal as the sun shines through the windows in his room.

then, a gentle smile gracing his face as he stares at his sleeping child.

jeno utters your name, causing you to look up, only to find him tracing circles around your child’s soft skin. “딸,” he rasps out, cracking a bleary eye open and gripping their wrist softly. Then, he smiles, all sorts of soft and lovely and.. unguarded.

“You two.. are the best things that have happened to me.”

Lee Donghyuck

haechan tries swallowing back the lump in his throat when he sees you standing in front of that damned door, though to no avail as a tear slips.

starts full-on crying when you say that you’re back for good and that the child is his. it's okay, let it out hyuck. <3

“ah, crying like that on our first meeting… don’t you think your fath — i’m a bit embarrassing?” he asks, sniffling as he tries to muster a smile through his tears.

your child giggles, eyes crinkling while grinning. “no! mommy told me a whooooole lot about you, daddy!”

you have to intervene at this point to stop him from sobbing again.

haechan wastes no time in making up for what he’s missed, so he's definitely going to spoil this child every second that he can.

you’d always find the two of them either going out shopping or messing about at home

also probably just chilling in the comforts of his room, doing god knows what.

one day you were curious, so you peeked through a tiny crack of the open door.

genuinely concerned at what you saw.

was that a... trenchcoat on your child? the two of them were engaged in conversation as haechan started nodding with a serious look on his face.

“so, mj, do you think waffles make mummy happier?” your child asks, holding his magnifying glass up like a mic in front of haechan's face.

mj???

haechan strokes his chin for a moment, before answering, “seeing her reaction when we gave her the ones we bought yesterday, i dee-hee duce they do, sherlock!”

sherlock...?

“good deduck – deduction, mj! i thought so too.”

you can't help but snort as haechan grabs his crotch and poses while high fiving your child.

as stupid as this was, your heart literally melts. the two are far too cute for you, you having to calm yourself before walking in with the widest smile on your face. dorks. 

Na Jaemin

“i was hoping you’d be back, my dear.” his perfunctory smile is so smug that sometimes you just want to punch him in the face. “with a lovely little thing in hand.”

“Your lovely little thing,” you say gently, trying to ignore your anger. you were here to show your child to jaemin. jaemin looks at the two of you with surprise, the curves of his mouth inching upwards.

hey jaemin wasn't trying to be possessive... cause that's weird. but the way you emphasized the word 'your' made his breath hitch. we can unpack that later though.

for now, na jaemin is a certified sugar daddy

jaemin is wrapped around the little one’s finger, his rotten spoiling being the effect of not being in your child’s life for a good while, and, of course, his indispensable regret for having you come back to him.

you asked jeno the whereabouts of your lover and your child, only for him to give you the look, responding that they were out yet again, and are probably not coming back without a few shopping bags in hand.

okay something needed to be done about this. so you decided to conduct a harmless experiment.

placing a few coins on one side of his desk, a toy in the middle, and a beloved fruit on the side. after explaining to him that it’s to see what your child’s fate would be — picking between fortune, fun, and, well, snacks, you think — he simply leans back, interest shining in those eyes of his.

but your child pushes all these away in a second, opting to hug the wide-eyed man on the soft armchair behind the desk.

“and what.. does this mean, ma chérie?” fuck him and the words he's picked up from traveling abroad. but jaemin looked honestly confused as his hands slowly wrap around your child’s.

you smile softly, “isn’t it obvious, silly? the little rascal loves you more than anything.”

he laughs. he doesn't get it. preparing for yet another shopping spree. why do you even try at this point?

Zhong Chenle

oh my god. when he first sees you after years with a child, his child, grasping your hand, chenle has to literally take a quick second to calm down cause he’s so angry.

no, not at you, of course, he would never. but at himself.

he wasn’t there for his child, for you, and god, even if he were, would he have been a good father?

“Y/ — 甜心,” he starts, running his fingers through his already messy bed-head hair and staring at you with eyes that practically scream "please hug me, i'm insecure"

“how am i supposed to take care of a child when i couldn’t even take care of you?”

but don't worry, after many reassuring words and warm hugs, chenle's finally okay and back to his normal self, holding your child up and giggling.

maybe this was a wrong idea cause now you have to take care of a manchild and a child.

is surprisingly very gentle with your child because he honestly doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing. (just because he has a nephew does not mean he knows how to parent a child.)

also very grounded and doesn’t fall for cute little tricks as much, so out of the dreamies, he’d end up becoming one of the better fathers.

also cause he never loses. and no way is he gonna lose an argument with a child.

“不行。” “爸爸, pleaaase?” “no. 不可以。”

chenle seemed to be holding a chocolate bar high above his head, steely gaze fixed on your young child trying to ignore their pleading puppy dog eyes.

“妈妈说 no chocolate, right?” your heart warms when you realize he remembered you scolding your child yesterday, though you can’t help but to feel a little bad.

“chenle,” you say, both their heads turning towards you. “how about you give the little baby some chocolate and we can eat the eggs i just made in the kitchen?”

the way both their eyes shine almost identically is so fucking adorable.

Park Jisung

??!?>!?!>?>!?@#?>(*#(@*(*#!?!@?

“that’s… mine??” “what?” “… it?” “it?” “the.. child?”

actually malfunctions.

jisung is very flustered, for lack of better terms. he was always considered the baby maknae of dream, but his own child? lord, help him.

you... him.... the baby... it or they.. came out of you??? what.

gets awfully flushed whenever he’s carrying his child around the building. everyone tries to stop and coo at the baby, + chenle and haechan have decided to make his life a living hell cracking up jokes whenever they can.

jisung is surprisingly good at getting your chaotic child to sleep with his bedtime stories, which are usually all his big yap sessions.

“and did daddy get that bruise on his forehead because he slipped while chasing uncle chenle and uncle haechan?” you question the two of them, wondering what they had been talking about earlier.

your child nods, bright eyes sparkling and grinning, “아빠 also said, ‘get back here, you devilish imbeciles!’”

oh fuck.

your accusatory gaze turns towards jisung, who averts his eyes, holding an ice pack to his bruising forehead, trying to shield himself from possibly getting more bruises.

“i-in my defense, they were—”

“one more time, park jisung, and i’m changing their legal godfathers to the two imbeciles you love and appreciate so so much.”

his eyes widen in shock, “you wouldn’t.”

“try me.”

now jisung is a grumbling mess when the two idiots are around his child, but the lack of chasing them around can be counted as an upgrade, i guess.

TAGLIST ↬  @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @ldh0000 @galacticnct @peterm4rker

[cottonlemonade]

Dracula And His Damsel

word count: 1135 || avg. reading time: 5 mins.

pairing: post-time skip!Kyotani x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff with a pinch of spice

warnings: mdni, suggestive

request: watching Nightmare Before Christmas with pumpkin-spice, dressed as a tomato with Kyotani || fluffy-spicy, Halloween costume shopping with boyfriend Kyotani

Only through the power of undying love was Kyotani able to cross the threshold of the costume parlor. After weeks of hints decreasing in subtlety by the day, had he agreed to a couple’s costume for this year’s Halloween party under the condition that it would be nothing too out there or embarrassing. Even though, in all honesty, you could have asked him to wear a dress and he would have, just to see you smile.

“How about this one?”, you asked, holding up a picture of the Barbie movie on your phone, “You’re halfway there already. You’re hot, blond and your name is Kentaro.”

You giggled at your own joke and it turned into a full laugh when you saw his unimpressed expression.

“Let’s make this quick, alright?”

“Ah ah ah, good things take time, babe. Now, what are you in the mood for? Something dangerous? Creepy? Funny? Sexy?” With each new word, you pulled a different costume from the rack.

Your boyfriend raised a brow at the last piece. “What’s that supposed to be?”

“The Phantom of the Opera. A classic…”, you sighed dreamily, “And pretty simple. I just need a fancy ball gown for my part. Wanna try it on?”

“I’m good.”, he replied, disinterested, “Let’s get that one and leave.”

You hit him with the big doe eyes - a trick that had yet to fail its effect.

“But I wanna see how it looks beforehand. Please~?”

Today was no different.

“Fine…” Snatching the cloak and mask from you, he let you usher him to the spacious changing rooms - no wonder they were so big, considering some costumes were made to be worn by two people.

Five minutes later you brushed the curtain to the side to inspect. Kyotani flinched, needlessly trying to cover himself even though he was fully dressed.

“Ya can’t just come in here, ya know?”

“Says who?”, you replied and began brushing along the cloak and fixing his collar, “You look so handsome… even more so than usual.”

It was no use pretending that he didn’t love your praise. Years of pathetically crushing on you, followed now by months of clumsily being a boyfriend for the very first time had taught him that when it came to you, anything was his weakness. And your warm hands running over his chest, combined with sweet talk ensured he would stay in this dressing room until closing time if you told him to.

Reaching out of the curtain for a moment, you produced another hanger with a - to him - absolutely identical costume you found.

“If the phantom isn’t it, how about we go with another classic? Draculaaaa~”

“And who would you be?”

“Well…”, you said, tapping your finger thoughtfully on your chin, “I could either be some woman you seduce ooor maybe a vampire huntress?”

He hated how that idea made him blush and he was even more embarrassed when you noticed.

“Oh? You like the idea? Well, say no more! Imma grab a dress.” And with that, you wooshed out of the changing room.

A little while later, while he was tying the black and red cape, you slipped back through his curtain.

“Could you please help me with the corset, baby?”

“The c-…”

You would 100% be the death of him. It was only a matter of time.

Part of the reason he fell for you in the first place was that you were the exact opposite of him, bright and friendly, definitely something people would call approachable. And where he was considered lean and lanky, you were soft and rounded. This had led to many many afternoons of him bringing you home after a date and not being able to stop when you kissed him Goodnight because the feeling of your warm chub between his cold fingers was more addictive than anything he’d ever experienced.

“Babe?”, you asked when he could only stare.

“Hm?”

“The corset?”

“Right.”

You smiled and turned your back to him expectantly.

He examined the laces.

“Uhm… what… what do I do?”

“It’s kinda like putting on shoes, just tighten it a little. Not too much though, I like to breathe.”

The knowledge that he could hurt you in this situation if he did something wrong, made him hesitate but with a bit more encouragement (praise) he finished the job in no time.

“What do you think?”

You tilted your head a little, meeting his eyes in the large mirror.

“Pretty.”, he said, clearing his throat. His eyes had dropped down and landed on your breasts, plump and on display with the corset.

Obviously, you caught him looking. “Yeah?”, you teased, “Let’s take a picture. I wanna try something.”

You turned to the side, leaning your back against the wall, and pulled out your phone.

He stood there, waiting for instructions.

“Come here and pretend to bite my neck.”

And there was that stupid blush again. He stepped closer and opened his mouth as wide as he could, hovering over that sensitive bit of skin that usually made you so… noisy when you were alone. The camera clicked and he straightened, waiting for your verdict.

“Hm.”, you said, “It doesn’t look quite right.” You turned the screen so he could see. He looked very very stiff but that was his default in any pictures to be fair. He only had two modes. Stiff or glaring - already a huge upgrade from his high school days.

“Maybe this time try putting your hand here - yes, like that, the other there - perfect - and when you lean in, maybe just kiss my neck but with a bit more teeth.”

A truly terrible idea as he came to realize soon enough. The smell of your perfume and feeling of your warmth had him entranced and he could only vaguely hear you taking one picture after another.

You didn’t tell him to stop.

Only a small eternity later did he hear you gasp his name.

He moved in even closer, pressing his body against you, and automatically slotted his leg between yours.

His sharp incisors raked over your skin, making you shudder in his arms.

You brought your hands up to rest on his shoulders, steadying yourself as he continued to kiss, touch, and grind.

A large calloused hand came up to your breasts but with the corset, it was impossible to grab. He focused on his thigh pushing up to your core, groaning with frustration at that piece of impenetrable fabric keeping him from feeling heaven.

“Excuse me? Sir? Miss? What are you doing?”, the voice of the store clerk rang through the curtain and burst the hot bubble you were in.

“We’re almost out.”, you replied, decidedly croaky sounding.

Suddenly glad for the robes hiding his otherwise very prominent problem, Kyotani panted quietly, “We should get these ones.”

art: @_geolatte on Twitter

a/n: request for @rosetakemi

Thank you very much for your request! Ngl I thought I would struggle a whole lot more writing for him but it was actually really fun! I hope you enjoyed it 🌟

That concludes the Halloween event. Thank you so so much to everyone who participated, liked, commented, and reblogged. While the event was going on I surpassed 1000 followers and I can’t wrap my head around that. That’s so many of you!!! The next event will be a much simpler one that I had planned since… like May, but always kept pushing back because I thought of other things xD

[earthtooz]

Just an idea that popped in my head (because i love you and your writing) but how do you think gojo would react when he's sitting on couch, waiting for reader to get ready so they can attend a party,and she emerges from their room,wearing the sexiest red dress and red lipstick?

Like,one min gojo is tapping on his phone,the next minute he's choking on air 😂

no mentions of reader's pronouns but reader wears a dress and makeup, suggestive, kinda deviated from what anon originally wanted, gojo is dumb and in love nevertheless.

“if you don’t kiss me this very second, i might die.”

“excuse me?”

“if you don’t kiss me this very second, i. might. die,” gojo parrots, putting more emphasis on his words, as his eyes burn blue flames of determination and unwavering grit.

a laugh slips past your lips, “you’re being silly, satoru,” is all you say before walking past him and towards the genkan where you put out the red heels you were planning on wearing tonight.

“but i’m being serious!” he whines, “you don’t want me to die now, do you?”

“what started this?” reaching down to put on your shoes, your boyfriend is beside you in an instant, holding out his hand for you to grab as if acting like a glorified stand. you take it easily, putting your weight onto him to balance. 

“when you’re looking this irresistible i can’t help it, and it’s a red dress, what do you want from me?” the white-haired whistles before bending down to his knees when you’re back on two feet. his hands then reach for the straps of your shoes, wrapping them up for you. “is it so selfish of me to keep you all for myself?”

he kisses your calf when he’s done, standing back to his full height. “well, you are a selfish man, after all.”

“only when it comes to you,” gojo reaches for your hand to place on his cheek. his other hand tightens around your waist, gentle with his grip, but fully possessive. “you’re too gorgeous for my health, i’ll die of jealousy before lack of attention.” 

you laugh, drunk on love and affection as gojo pouts at you. “oh satoru.”

“what?” exclaims the sorcerer. “you’re going to capture everyone’s hearts. i don’t like it when other men look at you.” 

“is that my fault?”

“no, never your fault, baby. i’ll fight off anyone who looks too long.”

you smile at him, eyes crinkling. “what am i gonna do with you?”

“stay with me forever?”

“if you’re good enough, sure.”

“how about a kiss, then?”

pinching his cheeks, you take a step away from him, breaking the hazy, lovestruck daydream that gojo had entered. “not when i have this lipstick on.”

(he takes a second to admire your retreating figure, only looking away when you send him a pointed and unimpressed look, to his dismay.) 

“why not?” his tone is one of utter distraught and like a magnet, the sorcerer finds himself drawn towards standing beside you again, hand snaking up to hold your hips as you check your appearance in the hallway mirror.

“it will leave a lipstick mark, duh.”

“maybe that’s what i want.”

“you’re awful.”

“just one kiss, please?”

“but it will ruin the makeup.”

“i’ll die otherwise, y/n, won’t you save me?” 

you scoff. “fine. one kiss.”

the look of pure joy on gojo’s face could rival the brightness of the sun and you wonder how you could ever learn to resist this man’s charms. turning around in his grasp, you pull him in for a kiss that fills his lungs with absolute adoration, a warmth that threatens to melt him into a puddle at your feet. 

his heart sinks when you pull away, and hits rock bottom with a ‘thud’ when you don’t return to him.

“hey! that was too short.”

“makeup, satoru,” you lecture pointedly. “we should probably leave now, don’t want to be too late-”

“-i think we just don’t go at all.” 

“that would be impolite and rude, we can’t-”

“-we can,” he murmurs before sealing your lips with his, this time with a lot more passion and weight than you likes. however, not one part of you moves to push him away, giving in to his touch despite how you know you shouldn’t. 

“satoru, you’re going to have lipstick marks all over you,” you reason against his lips.

instead, he kisses you harder. “just what i want.” 

when his hand bunches up your red dress in his grasp, you know you’ve lost this fight, bending to gojo’s wishes under him.

you arrive looking prim and proper whilst your lover’s neck is littered with kiss marks. 

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[twig-tea]

GL Odds and Ends January 2025

I'm still trying to figure out what 2025 means for me in terms of where and how I spend my time, but one thing I am passionate about is making sure there is a record of GL media, so I'm going to try to prioritize keeping this up to at minimum monthly, though I might change up the format. Last one was end of December 2024. If you're interested in GL older than that, check out my GL rec list and my #gl recs tag for the other odds and ends posts. Series new to the roundup are marked with an asterisk*.

Currently airing (with thoughts up to 31 Jan):

Petrichor ep 9/10 (Thai, Saturdays, 10:00 AM ET, iQIYI) I've appreciated the struggle that Tul has gone through in terms of wanting to use her police powers to protect her family though that goes against her morals, and some of the procedural aspects I was grumbling about before have been explained by the plot. However, it still bothers me that she's not a very good detective. That being said, Engfa and Charlotte still have fantastic chemistry, and Na is having what seems like the time of his life.

*Us the series ep 2/12 (Thai, Saturdays, 8:00 AM ET, YouTube) I admit I think I have Chao Planoy fatigue. Age gap, both characters are lying to each other, there are abusive family members, and a guy who seems nice but I'm braced for a reveal about how he's actually awful. I'm feeling like I'm playing bingo. Honestly If someone gets hit by a car I might lose it. All my baggage aside, the pacing on this feels uneven and it doesn't feel like it has its feet yet.

*Call Me By No Name ep 4/8 (Japanese, Thursdays, 12:30 PM ET, GagaOOLala) Honestly I am not buying the romance between these two protagonists and I am finding them a little overwrought.

*Trunk Girl ep 1/? (Korean, possibly Thursdays, YouTube) This has just started, and the vibes are off. I am suspicious of the circumstances that led this runaway to stay with her friend, especially when she kissed her in her sleep (and I don't mean suspicious of sapphic feelings, those are already taken as given considering the genre).

*FirstLOVE ep 5/? (Korean, Mondays, YouTube) Toxic girlfriend gets replaced and then regrets letting her lover go. We'll see how this ends but this is another messy drama that feels pretty rough.

*I Am Devil ep 5/? (Thai, Saturdays, YouTube) Gonna be honest with y'all I watched ep1 and shelved the rest, it's a pulp in the style of high drama like Sastra and JPC below produce and just isn't my jam. If you're looking for high heat lakorn-style drama, give this a try.

[Note: Mate is still airing if you did not fast track, but since I did I've included it in the following section]

Recently Completed:

The Fragrance You inherit 8eps 25mins each (Japanese, 8 Nov 24-27 Dec 24, no official distribution but fansub on @isaksbestpillow's blog[thank you Siiri!] I loved this finale and wrote about it here. For those who don't want to click the link, in short this is not a romance but a really beautiful and sweet show about all kinds of interpersonal relationships.

Pluto 12eps 45 mins each (Thai, 19 Oct 24-04 Jan 25, YouTube) This series showcased the skills and chemistry of Namtan and Film, and had some of the most iconic product placement in a GL to date. The plot was messy but held together, and as much as I was unimpressed with their choices week to week, their choices made sense within the narrative (and genre) being told. I knew this one wasn't for me, but what it was doing, it did pretty well, and beautifully. The one real ding from me was the use of blindness as a metaphor that essentially got handwaved away; that and I think it was doing too much. But I am glad that before that, there was some great use of their platform to highlight the importance of universal design.

INTP 4eps 5 mins each (Korean, 27 Dec 24-22 Jan 25 YouTube) This is the latest short series from RedQ, who produced some of my favourite GL short series including More than or equal to 75 degrees C, and To the Ex who Hated Me. I said when this started that the setup of this one reminded me of Semantic Error if SangWoo realized he was attracted to JaeYoung at their first group assignment meeting, and I think that holds. These two fell for each other because they both care about the group project, and both protect each other. It's a bit short but I found it very sweet.

Mate, 12eps 50+ mins each (Thai, 26 Nov 24-28 Jan 25 fast-track or 4 Feb 25, WeTV (uncut version)) In the end this show remained a struggle for me. There were things it was doing that I really liked (the characters tried hard not to resort to noble idiocy, and when characters did resort to noble idiocy they were confronted with the consequences, for example), and things that I really did not, and there were parts that were really hard to watch and will haunt me. There are a lot of things I like about this show, so I don't want to discourage views. Just go into this one informed, and make the decision that's right for you.

*Adrenaline 4eps 15 mins each (Thai, 10 Jan-31 Jan 25, YouTube) This show is a cross between a travel ad and a lakorn. This is a major spoiler, but the main character has a secret condition where she forgets things that causes her to forget her first time with her girlfriend!? This show is so messy lol

Recent One-offs, Side Couples, etc.:

Fireworks of Yesteryear/When We Met has been made available on YouTube. A 35-minute Chinese GL that includes a makeout and as a result the production team have been working hard to get it in front of eyeballs. This is a moody piece with an open ending; there's an age gap too so YMMV (30s and 22).

GL microseries Your Name Engraved Herein (not to be confused with the BL feature film) has been subtitled by @douqi7s. Watch the original on Bilibili and enjoy the subs on YouTube. This one is also melancholy but it's some really tight storytelling in under 2 mins and manages to feel hopeful even though it's sad.

There is a lesbian side couple in Flirt Milk the series (airing now on iQIYI). This couple Noon and Praewa previously appeared as sides in Love Senior.

There is a new MV featuring a lesbian couple for the artist KnomJean on YouTube. This is one of those MVs that tells a story (TW for family violence) and after getting through the sad backstory, celebrates marriage equality in Thailand.

IdolFactory is re-running GAP the series on YouTube. If you've been putting off watching, now is a good time!

Speaking of re-runs, Yes Or No and the two sequel/spinoffs (Yes or No 2, and Yes or No 2.5) are all newly on GagaOOLala for streaming in some regions (I know for sure they're in North America, not sure about others)

Uranus2324 is starting to show up in particular places on the internet. I watched it and after all of the negative things I'd heard I actually liked it lol I'll see if I can write about it more this week

My suspected wlw sides in See Your Love ended up being implied only I was a little sad about this but at least I wasn't imagining the vibes.

Mom Ped Sawan is still airing but I still don't have a source for subs

Sastra film app YouTube channel has several short Cambodian GL series that come out weekly Honestly they are not to my taste but I don't like gatekeeping GL especially from smaller markets. I check in on these time to time and if there are any that I think are great I'll give them a shout-out

Ditto above with JPC media YouTube channel for Thai GL shorts if there are any that stand out to me I'll say so; that being said I haven't had time recently so if I've missed anything good let me know!

Starting soon:

Reverse With Me (sequel spinoff to Reverse 4 U), Thai, 5 Feb, iQIYI and Ch3+ app

Fragrance of the First Flower s2, Taiwanese, 18 February 2025, GagaOOLala ok this isn't that soon but I'm just so excited we're getting this second season after all!

As always, if I'm missing anything, please let me know!

[theshipsong]

suit of cups | i-iii

basil hawkins x f!reader. childhood friends/crewmates canon au. selfship; reader is an astrologer and explicitly racialized while he isn't. prequel to the stars have all gone. wc 3.5k | est. 13 min read

{ next card }

"You have pretty hair."

It was the first kind thing Basil Hawkins heard from another child since he and his mother moved to her home village in the North Blue. At ten years old, he was quite used to unsolicited commentary about his appearance, so he braced himself to fight, though he didn't hear the snickering of a bully's audience. Instead, he looked up to see you.

Though you stood while he sat, he could tell you were a few inches shorter than him and likely younger. You didn't look at his face or his brow, but truly, honestly, at the ends of his hair hanging past his chin.

"Go away."

Hawkins recalled the straw effigies he'd sprouted from his hands as he made to leave, but to his annoyance, you followed.

"I said go away."

"I'm going home."

"You're lying." He lengthened his steps the little bit his height allowed him.

"Am not. I live in the stone house with the outside kitchen."

That was generous. Smoke and steam wafted downwind to the wooded area where he lived smelling like fish and starches, from what had to be a pot over a fire pit at most. He liked being outside during this island's brief warm season, so he didn't relish when the air smelled like burnt food.

You shuffled quickly to catch up to him. "I heard there was a boy with powers. Is it you?"

"No."

"You're lying. I saw you grow pancit from nothing."

"Pancit?" he repeated.

"Noodles."

Hawkins looked at you sidelong as he slowed his pace slightly. If he was a misfit for the eyebrows he was told were his father's contribution, you stood apart from the villagers with your pitch-black waves while everyone else resembled his mother in coloring, straight, fair hair and fairer skin.

He stopped and held up his palm, conjuring a small scarecrow. You watched in fascination, and bizarrely sniffed the air before frowning.

"That's not pancit."

Other children would call him a monster or a witch and run away, shrieking, but you were unimpressed.

"No, it isn't."

You poked the scarecrow lightly with your finger, and he felt the foreign heat of your hand near his. Was it already that cold outside, or were you that warm? Then you grabbed his wrist and pulled him forward.

"Come on!"

You lived so close by but a world apart from him, with three generations of family who seemed to be mostly fishermen and homemakers. You barely introduced him to the old woman bent over a wok in the small, fenced yard with more gravel than grass before you pointed at the colorful woven mat under her feet.

"Lola, is that straw?"

She hummed affirmatively, and you grinned at him, though he wasn't sure what reaction you were looking for, then or throughout that evening of boisterous adults speaking half a different language while you piled his plate high with food, fragrant with garlic and vinegar and peppercorn. He'd always been left to his own devices, free to come and go as he pleased with his mother's unpredictable hours, so he was unsettled to the very end when you tried your best to walk him home. In practice, you lagged behind him, hobbling with a bundle of leftovers your mother foisted on you that had to be a third your size until Hawkins held out his hand with a put-upon sigh.

"Give it to me."

"No. You're a guest."

"We're going to my house."

"Just for a second!"

"And we're never getting there at the speed you're walking."

You grumbled as he pried it from your fingers, hooking the veritable tower of containers into his own. It really was one of the biggest meals he'd had in recent memory. Neighbors had been curious about the two of them before and made token offers to look after him out of pity for his young, hardworking mother, but that usually ended once they realized how off-putting and somber he was besides his Devil Fruit.

Hawkins was sure your own interest would wane soon and your family was surely gossiping about him at this moment, but he'd at least savor the dishes you brought along before his familiar solitude. You'd probably turn tail now that he relieved you of your burden. You'd probably pretend not to know him once other children got wind of his powers, and he'd resent you for it more than he did anyone else so far, because there was something sadder than usual about a little kid like you discarding him.

But you kept coming back.

The next day, Hawkins stepped out of his house to find you sitting on the fence post with a book that looked much too mature for either of you. Even he scarcely read anything but the comics in the World Economic Journal, so he doubted you were far beyond picture books yourself. You didn't acknowledge him as he approached, but the tension was evident in your neck, like you were waiting for him to speak first. He took advantage of his height and long arms to pluck it from your grasp.

"Hey!"

"On the Heavenly Spheres," Hawkins read out loud. The page you were on had diagrams, not so much illustrations, and he kept his thumb there as he flipped through to see more of the same. "Did you steal this?"

"Borrowed," you corrected. You'd hopped down from the fence to try and take it back, swiping futilely at his shoulders before he handed it back to you.

"From who?" Your family didn't seem terribly bookish.

"This neighbor lady," you said with a sniff. "She smells weird but she has a lot of stuff like this. See?" You held it out, pantomiming for him to take a whiff, and he recoiled.

"No, thank you."

But he didn't mind laying in the grass a few feet away from you with his backlog of Sora, Warrior of the Sea clippings while you hummed and doodled on your left arm in fountain pen, the odd symbols he'd glimpsed in your book, until the sun rose past noon and you asked him for soap in a panic before you both were due for lunch at your house. He could tell your mother restrained herself from striking you for the faint smear of ink left behind, and the next day he gave you the rest of the newspaper to write in the margins of instead.

His own mother was surprised to see you the evening after that, and looked between the two of you curiously as you chatted to her about the trove of food their family of two had been reheating diligently for days.

"I'm glad you're making friends, Hawkins," she said softly when he returned from walking you home.

"We're not friends," Hawkins said. "I'm babysitting."

His mother smiled at that, a little sadly, and he winced. He'd never had one, but understood the concept. It'd always been the two of them.

Summer turned to fall. You tried to teach him go, which the elders of your family played, though he wasn't convinced you understood it, either, with how a pruned man whose exact relation to you was inconclusive scowled every time you clacked a stone down loudly. Hawkins finally unearthed the pack of cards misplaced in their move here, and you played what few games the pair of you could think of for two players, mostly slapjack that left both of you smarting and teary-eyed, except for the times he covered his hand with a thick layer of straw. He made you truly cry, once, and he'd never felt worse. His mother came home and laughed at the scene the two of you made, and you betrayed him by ignoring him that evening to learn knitting at her side.

"We've been here for ever," you said, "but everyone still thinks they're back home, so no one knows how to dress for winter."

Back home, someplace you'd never been but you and now Hawkins heard plenty about. A summer island in the Grand Line. All the straw baskets and mats in your home was waste from white rice, unlike the barley and wheat around here. Hawkins wondered if it was warmer than a Northern summer, or warm like the life you invited him to without hesitation, or warm like your hands.

It was your birthday deep in winter when Hawkins finally met the smelly old woman who supplied you with books.

"You can take a bath right away," you hissed. He was more annoyed that for the next six months you were only two years younger than him instead of three, but now dread filled him along with the memory of patchouli and mothballs from times you'd stuck a book on his sleeping face.

The old woman lived at the edge of town, still closer than either of you, and it was one of the few times you saw other children your age, including a few who he'd punched and been punched by for comments about his mother and about you, so Hawkins took your mittened hand in his, your stitches much neater than his own despite you only learning a few months ago. He didn't let go until you passed the iron gate of a row house and you skipped ahead of him to knock.

Besides loud makeup—dark lipstick, no mascara—the old woman looked much like any other on this island, and you hugged her around her waist like you were used to it, though Hawkins could tell you held your breath. He bit back his smirk at that before you introduced him, and he managed to keep his distance with a polite bow of the head. You kicked him in the shin under the table while your hostess rifled around for something, and he tutted you for almost disturbing the tea.

She left you in a sort of drawing room, whose one complete wall was lined with tall bookshelves, including a few spines he recognized from your voracious intake. Incense puffed off a brass holder shaped like a sea king, and Hawkins couldn't excise it from the cocktail of other scents that was surely embedding itself in his hair and clothes.

"Now, darling," the woman said on return, sitting across from the pair of you at the round table. "How old are you this year?"

"Nine," you answered guilelessly.

"Mm. And you?"

He tried to hide that he was startled at being involved. "Eleven, now."

"Hawkins is a Virgo," you explained.

"Ah. I see." She nodded like you'd exchanged a larger volume of information than he could hear. "Birds of a feather."

With that, she held out a tall deck of cards toward you, and pressed your palm on the top before she shuffled them overhand like any of the men on the docks Hawkins had seen playing cards to pass the time. After a good long while, she set them in front of her counter-clockwise in a large wheel. There were twelve of them, and you made a noise of recognition.

The old woman grinned. "Sharp one, you are. Like him." She tapped the card that was at 9 o'clock from your shared point of view, one manicured fingernail on the crown of an enthroned old man, under which read "King of Swords."

You wrinkled your nose. "How is that my first house?"

"Where is your helmsman, dear?"

"Aquarius... oh."

Hawkins had no hope of following what seemed like an entirely disparate topic, the astronomy you read religiously, so he nursed his tea and inspected the rest of the spread. The deck was more colorful than the playing cards his mother had, with thick swathes of blue, red, green, and yellow and more proper illustrations than theirs. He counted two different kings on the table, and realized he'd never looked too closely before, taking for granted that every suit had two monarchs and a jack. But now that he looked, he wondered if his mother's deck wasn't a version of this with the more mystical cards missing. Why, though?

"Swords on three of your four angles," the woman tutted. "You're going to get yourself into many conflicts, and become known for it."

"By who?"

"Only another diviner would argue this much."

"I don't think I like tarot," you said sullenly. "It's not specific."

"Swords, dear."

Privately, Hawkins was impressed. He often found himself dragging you away from your family or other children by the scruff of your neck, how you challenged them as boldly as you did this woman who clearly found you amusing instead of abrasive.

The woman pointed at the third card, counter-clockwise. "Justice. Maybe you can use that tongue of yours to help the Marine."

"As my third house? I'm supposed to make propaganda?"

"Oi," Hawkins said, only half-offended. It was a familiar point.

"And I'm delighted to meet this young man of yours," the woman continued, and you audibly opened your mouth to contradict her, "but I think you should try to make some girl friends." The fifth card looked like three women clinking chalices together in the air.

"He's like a girl."

Hawkins had heard that before, but none of those who said it were you. If there was something girlish about him, whatever that meant, there was as much boyish in you, and you were each something closer to each other than anyone else.

For the next hour of your asking questions and picking the answers apart, Hawkins itched to take notes like when you read your astronomy books, or ask for the rest of the deck to flick through, and eventually he started speaking up himself, trying his hand at interpretation.

"It feels right for you to have The Star," he said carefully.

"It does. I like you, kid," your mentor—because that's what she was—said with a satisfied nod. You stuck your tongue out at him. "The Star as your eighth house suggests you'll be involved in political upheaval of some kind." Hawkins read headlines, at least, about the Revolutionary Army, and the thought of you dying for such a vague cause was laughable. "Or you will have close contact with someone who disrupts the status quo, violently."

You frowned. "I don't see how. I have Mars there, and it's undignified."

"The Six of Cups for your ninth house..." She looked at Hawkins then. "You two will travel together. I'm sure of it."

Hawkins drew six cards every morning. The first three were his personal reading, and the next three were for you. With your permission. You rolled your eyes as you gave it, but listened to his interpretation, and you in turn reminded him which of his houses had planets transiting through them. You said it was easy because your rising signs formed a trine to one another, his Cancer to your Pisces—only possible with signs of the same element. To him, those were The Chariot and The Moon, and your eyebrow visibly twitched when he said so.

He was fourteen and you were twelve when your grandfather taught the two of you and some of your cousins how to sail in a small double outrigger boat, an old but still-sturdy fishing rig retired from the family business but deemed safe enough for children on calm waters. You were only allowed to sail within a small bay separate from the commercial port at the island's northeast, and for the first time in your families' friendship, Hawkins felt guilty about accepting so much good will. Before this he had some pride and felt offended on his mother's behalf, that any help offered in his upkeep judged her as inadequate. His powers also meant your family would bear responsibility if he drowned, but they accepted the risk and kept sharing things with him like food and a sailboat and their roof, kept sharing you.

The two of you monopolized the paraw. Your older cousins already worked on larger fishing boats while this was functionally a sailed canoe, so the novelty was gone. The ones closer to your age gave you (and him) wide berth, so all summer the two of you sailed circles around the bay, taking turns reading your respective crafts while the other rigged.

"I don't know, Hawkins, it's a little cloudy," you hedged as you used a ruler to keep your place on your ephemeris table. You laid on your stomach on the floor of his room, knocking your shins into him as he sat with his back against his bed, his cards on the floor. He'd been fashioning some sort of stand for them out of straw, mostly to keep them off dirty surfaces, but the mutability of layouts he used made it difficult.

"All the more reason to practice. Do you think pirates get a choice in what the weather is like?"

You kicked his thigh with purpose. "Fine. But if we capsize or get rained on..."

"I didn't draw any Cups," Hawkins said.

"Really." You didn't sound impressed. "There's wet majors though. Did you get any of them?"

Just The Moon, but if he said that you'd be reminded of your sign correspondence rant. "We both got the Six of Swords."

It took you a minute to visualize it: two figures in a boat disembarking, a ferryman and their passenger. "Isn't that bad?"

After a year or so of using his mother's cards, Hawkins saved up enough money doing readings at the farmer's market to order an entirely pictorial deck, quicker for his personal recall than pips. You really preferred words and patterns over images, and responded to the pip deck like he didn't, but you gamely learned the pictures anyway.

You whined the whole time you followed him to the dock. It was cloudy, but the clouds were fluffy and white, not at all heavy with rain, and soon you were out on the water again, where Hawkins was starting to feel at home.

He wanted to see the world. He always had, as he and his mother moved incrementally throughout the North Blue and he noticed the slightest of differences from island to island. Then he met you, and the thought of the Grand Line struck him like lightning. That, and Devil Fruits being more commonplace there. He must have eaten his before he could talk, since he didn't remember it and never could swim to begin with. Your family had been fishermen for centuries, but your own mother neither swam nor feared the water. When the mentor you now shared said you would travel together, he knew that meant he would go to sea.

It was to those happy thoughts that Hawkins reclined across from you in the long outrigger and dozed off. Until...

"Hawkins!"

You shook him awake far more violently than he thought he deserved, and the first thing he noticed was the air was cool, cooler than it should be for a summer afternoon. He blinked one eye open and saw it was nighttime, sunset or just past sunset.

"Shit." You gasped, scandalized. "Don't be a baby," he grumbled as he started sitting up, but you smacked him in the shoulder so hard he went straight back down.

"I knew today wasn't a good sailing day!"

"It didn't rain."

"We're lost. Do you see the coastline?"

Hawkins squinted vaguely where he thought he horizon should be. "...No."

"Fuck!" you hissed.

"Fuck," he repeated.

"We're fine, actually. Okay. We're good." He didn't know if he believed you, but you nearly snapped your neck with how quickly you grabbed the compass that hung from it. "Okay. The new moon was four days ago, so she's waxing. Does that look like a quarter to you?" Hawkins knew better than to answer. "Either way, we can't have moved too far. Good thing the sails were furled."

You chewed your lip and looked up at the sky. He followed your gaze and saw only a field of stars, those clouds you worried about long gone. He stared long enough that his eyes started to water.

"Are you crying?"

"No." He wiped at his face with the back of his hand.

"We need to shunt. I think we've been going southeast."

"You think? How certain are you?"

"I'm not a navigator!" you snapped. "I don't know. I don't have like, a percentage for you, but I'm reasonably sure. Look. There's Polaris."

You pointed, and he supposed some of them looked brighter than the others, but he couldn't be certain. It amazed him that you read the sky like a map written just for you, and he wished his cards were half as useful to your shared survival.

"I'm putting my life in your hands."

You huffed. "It's already there." Hawkins stared, and wondered if you understood, without his saying it, everything you meant to him and how lost he would be without you, that the depth of it all would embarrass both of you, and—"You can't swim."

[vandme12]

Cereal Cannibal - Misaki x Seung-min Kim G.N Reader

WORDS : 7000

PROMPT : FALLING FOR YOU

CHARACTER USED : Misaki from Killer Chat!

INSPIRATION FROM : Seung-min Kim from My Sweet! Housemate!

SUMMARY : Misaki gets a new house, with a housemate, who's their landlord, who's also a cannibal

Misaki sat on the cold, metal floor of their bunker, staring at the last few bills in their hand. It wasn’t enough. Not even close. The place they had been calling home was no longer an option—issues with the owner, debts piling up, and now, they were being forced out. It sucked. Hard.

They had no choice but to leave.

“You should check out the deep web listings,” Ronin suggested, leaning back against the worn-out couch that Misaki had scavenged months ago.

Angel scoffed. “That’s a disaster waiting to happen.”

V, ever the practical one, just shrugged. “It’s not the worst idea. There are some surprisingly legit places there. Just be careful.”

Misaki groaned, running a hand through their short, messy hair. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

Their friends didn’t say anything, and the silence was answer enough.

So Misaki did what they had to do. Digging through the deep web, they scrolled past one shady listing after another until they stumbled upon an absurdly cheap offer—1,000 yen rent. The catch? They had to live with their landlord.

“Well,” they muttered to themselves, “I’ve dealt with worse.”

With a deep breath, they sent in their application. It wasn’t long before they got a response—approved.

Misaki sat cross-legged on the cold, metal floor of their bunker, hands clasped together as they muttered an impromptu prayer. “Listen, God, I know I haven’t been the best person—kinda kill people for a living, but, uh, desperate times. If you could just let this rent application go through, I swear I’ll… I don’t know, maybe stop calling Angel cannibal?”

“Liar,” Angel deadpanned

“Okay, okay. I’ll just do less.”

Ronin rolled their eyes. “You’re praying to God for a shady deep web apartment?”

“Hey, I’m broke, desperate, and out of options. Divine intervention is my last hope.”

V, raised a brow. “Or, you know, common sense.”

Before Misaki could snap back with a sarcastic remark, their laptop chimed with a notification. Their heart pounded as they scrambled to check their email. They half-expected a rejection, a scam link, or some weird cryptic message about selling their soul. But instead, there it was:

“Come on, come on,” they muttered under their breath, bouncing their leg impatiently.

Ding!

Their email refreshed, and there it was—a response.

“APPROVED.”

Misaki blinked. That was… fast. Almost too fast. Shouldn’t there have been, like, an entire government-level interrogation? A credit check? A deep dive into their very questionable employment history? Instead, it was just a short email.

They clicked it open, and their eyes skimmed over the entire terms and conditions.

All ten lines.

If you like the house, come to the address and check it out.

I’ll give you a copy of the key.

Consider yourself my roommate/housemate if you stay.

Pay rent on time, or at least try.

Don’t break my stuff.

If you see anything weird, ignore it.

Seriously, don’t ask questions.

The basement is off-limits.

No loud noises after midnight.

Welcome home! 😊

Misaki reread the email three times before looking up at their friends. “This is either the best or the worst decision of my life.”

Ronin “That’s it? I’ve seen more rules on the back of a cereal box.”

Message: Hey, if you like the house, come to the address and check it out. I’ll give you a copy of the key, and boom, you’re my roommate/housemate. See ya soon. – Landlord

“…That’s it?” Misaki blinked.

Angel talked. “Where’s the absurdly long lease agreement? The blood pact? The firstborn child sacrifice clause?”

V looked unimpressed. “I was at least expecting a ‘terms and conditions may apply.’”

Ronin whistled. “Honestly, that’s the most efficient rental process I’ve ever seen.”

Misaki reread the email, waiting for some hidden attachment or fine print, but nope. That was the whole thing. “They didn’t even do a background check.”

Angel smirked. “That’s probably a good thing for you.”

“Fair.”

Misaki took a deep breath, looking at their friends. “Alright, I guess I’m moving in. If I disappear, avenge me.”

“Absolutely not,” V said immediately. “You did this to yourself.”

Ronin told “Just make sure to check the bathroom for hidden cameras before you settle in.”

Angel smirked. “And if your new landlord asks if you’re allergic to anything, lie.”

“Gee, thanks for the support.”

They zipped up their bag, they felt the tiniest bit of apprehension creep in. Something about this felt too easy. Too convenient.

But then again, their life had never been easy or convenient, so maybe they were just due for a win.

Or, you know, an absolute disaster.

Either way, it was too late to back out now.

Misaki just grinned. “You say that like I don’t already regret every decision I’ve ever made.”

Angel smacked the back of their head. “That is NOT how that works.”

“Whatever, I’m taking the deal.” Misaki pumped their fists in the air. “I HAVE A HOME! SUCK IT, CAPITALISM!”

Ronin, Angel, and V just stared at them.

V sighed. “You’re gonna die.”

“Probably,” Misaki admitted. “But at least I’ll die with cheap rent.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Misaki closed their laptop and started packing their things—which wasn’t much. A duffel bag of clothes, some weapons, a few stolen snacks (for the road), and a single, slightly worn-out plushie that they definitely didn’t sleep with every night.

Misaki strutted through the dimly lit streets of Japan like an absolute chad. Sure, the economy was in the gutter, they were drowning in debt, and they were about to move into a suspiciously cheap apartment that might very well be a front for organ trafficking, but hey—positivity!

"It's fine. Everything's fine," they muttered to themselves, adjusting their duffel bag. "You just gotta impress the housemate, win their heart, and boom—temporary stability. Easy."

They clenched their fist in determination. This was just another mission. Instead of taking someone out, they were trying to not get kicked out. Same skill set, really.

After a long walk filled with self-pep talks and avoiding eye contact with salarymen crying into their vending machine coffee, Misaki finally arrived at the address.

The house looked… normal. Suspiciously normal. The kind of normal that felt wrong in their chaotic existence.

Taking a deep breath, Misaki knocked on the door. No answer. They rang the doorbell. Still nothing.

Then they noticed the door was slightly open.

"Oh, yeah, no red flags here at all," they muttered sarcastically before pushing it open.

"Uh, hello?" Misaki called out, stepping inside.

And that’s when they saw you.

Standing there in the dim light, you looked like a husk of a human being. Your overgrown bangs drooped over your face in a messy, unintentional crossover pattern, like they were actively trying to hide the shame of existence. There was a slight, tragic wave to them—like your hair had once had hope but had long since given up.

Your grey-teal, slightly droopy straight eyes had the kind of dark circles that could only be achieved through years of sleep deprivation, existential dread, and an overwhelming hatred for your job. You were in office wear—a dull, slightly wrinkled suit, tie barely hanging on like your will to live.

Misaki immediately clocked you as a salesperson.

And, oh boy, you looked hideous.

Not in a way that was physically repulsive, but in a way that screamed "I have seen things. I have suffered. And I will suffer again tomorrow from 9 to 5."

Your posture was the physical embodiment of why am I here?, and the way your dead-fish eyes met Misaki’s? Pure, undiluted regret.

There was a long, painful silence.

Misaki blinked.

You blinked.

Misaki cleared their throat. "Sooo… you're the landlord?"

You exhaled through your nose. "I wish I wasn’t."

"Uh-huh." Misaki glanced around. "Cool, cool. Great energy in here."

You gestured vaguely behind you. "Rooms that way. Rent’s due whenever. Don’t break anything. Don’t wake me up. If you summon a demon, tell it to kill me first."

Misaki nodded slowly. "...Love the enthusiasm."

Misaki had a problem.

Not just the broke assassin in crippling debt problem. Not just the this house is suspiciously cheap and my landlord looks like a walking depression commercial problem. No.

They had a problem in a new environment problem.

Which meant they were everywhere in the house within the first five minutes.

First, they tried to unpack, but then they got distracted by a weird stain on the wall that looked like blood (was it blood?), then they decided to check the kitchen because snacks, but then they opened a drawer and immediately forgot why they were even there. Then they somehow ended up in the hallway, staring at a random light switch, flicking it on and off just to see what it did.

Then—CRASH.

A shelf. A whole goddamn shelf. How? How?! It wasn’t even their shelf!

They just stood there, frozen, processing the fact that in five minutes, they had somehow committed their first property damage offense in the new house.

That’s when you walked in.

Dead-eyed. Drained. Like a husk of a man who had just worked a 16-hour shift selling printer ink to people who wanted to die just as much as you did. Your tie was loose like you had considered strangling yourself with it earlier but then sighed and went, not today, maybe tomorrow. Your bangs were a mess—probably hadn’t seen scissors in over a year. Your dark circles were so deep they looked like they were sponsored by a horror movie franchise.

You saw the shelf. You saw Misaki. You sighed. Deeply.

Then, in the most exhausted voice known to humankind, you muttered, "It's fine."

Misaki squinted. "…Wait, seriously?"

You blinked slowly, rubbing your eyes as if you had aged 40 years in the past 40 seconds. "Yeah. Whatever. I'll fix it later. It's fine."

That was when Misaki realized something horrifying.

You were so goddamn tired that you had transcended anger. You had seen so much bullshit in your life that a random destroying your furniture on day one didn’t even faze you.

They felt guilty. Misaki never felt guilty. They were a menace by nature. But you… You looked so damn miserable that it physically hurt them.

They tried to lighten the mood. “Uh, sorry about the—uh, shelf thing. But! Hey! At least I didn't burn the house down?”

You stared at them. Just stared.

They shifted awkwardly. “I mean, technically, I could have! That’s improvement, right?”

Silence.

Then you muttered, "Hello, Misaki."

Misaki blinked. “Oh, uh, actually, my name’s not Misaki, it’s—”

They paused, realizing their mistake.

Then, dramatically, throwing their arms out, they corrected themselves.

"MISAKI!"

There was a long pause. You just stared. The kind of stare that screamed ‘I am too tired for this but I will endure.’

Misaki waited for you to react. Maybe a sigh? A head shake? A single sign of life?

But you just closed your eyes for a moment, like you were mentally preparing yourself to deal with them for the foreseeable future.

And when you reopened them, you still looked exhausted. Still looked like you hated your job, your life, everything.

And Misaki—chaotic, impulsive, disaster of a person—felt something they rarely ever felt.

Pity.

You rubbed your temples, trying to fight off the migraine that had been steadily building for the last—what, three years? Maybe longer? Time was a blur when you lived in a constant state of exhaustion.

Misaki had already caused minor property damage. You should care. You should be concerned. But instead, you were just so damn tired.

With a sigh, you trudged over to the small, cluttered table in the living room, grabbed a stack of papers, and slapped them down in front of them. "Contract’s here. If you like the place, sign it. If not, you can leave and go back to… whatever questionable living situation you came from."

Misaki blinked. “That’s it? No interrogation? No ‘I need your government ID’ or ‘sign away your soul’ clause?”

You sighed again. Deeply. “Rent is 1,000 yen. I don’t care when you pay it. Just… get it to me eventually.”

They stared at you. Hard.

You could tell they were waiting for you to drop some sort of catch, some hidden clause that would reveal this was actually a scam or a murder plot. But there was nothing. Just you, standing there in your wrinkled office wear, looking like you’d rather be anywhere else.

They slowly pointed at you. “Why… aren’t you asking any additional details? Like my job? Or my background?”

You shrugged. “I don’t care.”

That seemed to stun them. They just stood there, processing the sheer lack of effort you were putting into this situation.

You checked the time on your watch. Your shift started in ten minutes. You were already late. Your boss was probably foaming at the mouth waiting to scream at you, but honestly? You had stopped caring about that job ages ago.

Still, you needed it to pay for this miserable excuse of an apartment.

You ran a hand down your face and muttered to yourself, "God, I need a new job."

Misaki tilted their head. “You work sales, right?”

You scoffed. Bitterly. “If you can even call it that.”

Your voice turned dull and lifeless as you mocked yourself. “Hello, sir, would you be interested in our limited-time printer ink bundle? No? That’s okay, let me waste five more minutes of your time explaining a warranty that you’ll never use. Oh, you’re walking away? I see. I am but a worm beneath your shoe. I exist to suffer. Thank you for your time.”

Misaki blinked. Twice.

You exhaled sharply and rubbed your eyes. “I swear, if I stay here one more minute, I’m going to get fired.”

They stared at you. Hard.

Then, with zero hesitation, they said, "I wanna stay."

You blinked at them. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“You just got here.”

“Yep.”

“The shelf thing just happened.”

“Uh-huh.”

You exhaled through your nose. “You’re a very eager one, huh?”

Misaki shrugged. “Look, you’re tired, I’m tired, and this place is cheap. Seems like a win for both of us.”

You didn’t argue. You just reached for the contract, flipped it to the signature page, and handed them a pen. “Fine. Sign here.”

Misaki took the pen with an enthusiastic nod and scrawled their name in an exaggerated, dramatic fashion.

MISAKI 🐱

You stared at it.

They smiled.

It was a completely normal, cheerful smile.

Like nothing about this situation was weird.

Like they hadn’t just put a cat emoji in their official contract signature.

You dragged a hand down your face. "Why."

Misaki just grinned wider. "Why not?"

You sighed for what felt like the hundredth time today. “Welcome home, I guess.”

Maybe you’d regret this later.

Maybe you wouldn’t.

Either way, you had exactly five minutes to sprint to work before your boss started sending you death threats via email.

You grabbed your coat, already halfway out the door when you paused and looked back at Misaki. They were busy poking at the contract like it was a rare artifact instead of a legally binding document, probably still amused at the fact that they got away with signing it with a cat emoji.

With a sigh, you muttered, “Don’t open the door for strangers.”

Misaki scoffed. “I’m not a kid.”

You rubbed your temple. “I know. Just… saying. Sorry.”

That should have been the end of it. You should have walked out and gone to work, but something snapped inside you, and suddenly, words just started tumbling out of your exhausted soul like a faucet with a broken handle.

"Look, it's just... I've had the worst week. No, month. Maybe year. My job sucks, my boss looks like a diseased ferret in a cheap suit, I haven’t had a full night’s sleep since 2018, and now I’m standing here in my own apartment, warning a fully grown adult about basic safety like I’m some overworked single parent—"

Misaki blinked. Twice.

"—and I have to leave right now because if I don't show up at work, my paycheck will be so small I’ll have to start stealing sugar packets from cafes just to survive!"

They nodded slowly. “...That’s a lot, dude.”

“Yeah,” you exhaled, rubbing your eyes. “Anyway. I was gonna make dinner later. If you want, you can join me. Whatever I cook will probably be mediocre at best, but at least it won’t be cup noodles.”

Misaki’s eyes sparkled. SPARKLED. “I accept.”

"Cool," you mumbled, too drained to process their enthusiasm. You turned and left, already dreading the shift ahead of you.

Meanwhile...

The moment the door shut, Misaki EXPLODED.

"HAHAHAHA! I GOT A HOME!!"

They dramatically threw their arms up and immediately grabbed their PC, clutching it like it was their firstborn child. "YAY!"

Ronin, V, and Angel, who had been waiting for an update, got an earful as Misaki hopped onto a call.

“GUYS! I’M IN!”

Ronin snorted. "Took you long enough. So, what's the place like?"

"Honestly? Pretty normal. But my landlord—"

Angel cut in. "Wait. You met them?"

"Yeah?" Misaki flopped onto their new (and slightly squeaky) bed. "They look like they haven’t slept since the invention of capitalism. Like, imagine a guy who’s been dealing with too much bullshit, and you multiply that by, like, fifty. That’s them."

Ronin cackled. "Sounds like a great roommate dynamic. A sleep-deprived office worker and a contract assassin. Truly the dream team."

Misaki smirked. "I'm pretty sure I could break a plate in front of them and they’d just sigh and accept it as part of their fate."

V, who had been oddly silent until now, finally spoke.

"Misaki."

Misaki blinked. "Huh? What’s up? You almost never call me."

V didn’t respond immediately. There was a slight pause, as if they were carefully choosing their words. Then—

"If that person is dangerous, you can tell me."

Misaki’s teasing expression softened a little. V wasn’t usually the overprotective type, but when they were, it always hit different.

"Awh, V…" Misaki grinned, but this time, it was more genuine. “Don’t worry. If anything sketchy happens, you’ll be the first to know."

"...Good," V muttered

Misaki stared at the screen for a second before chuckling softly to themselves.

Yeah. Things might be weird.

But at least they weren’t alone.

Misaki sprawled across their new bed, lazily twirling a stray lock of hair as they grumbled into the call. “Man, my landlord is so boring.”

Ronin snorted. “Already talking shit? You literally just moved in.”

“No, like, seriously.” Misaki threw their legs up against the wall, staring at the ceiling. “There is nothing about them that makes them even remotely interesting. They’re not cute, not hot, not even a charming idiot. Just a sleep-deprived husk of a person. Like, imagine if a tax return became human.”

Angel wheezed. “Not a tax return.”

Misaki kept going. “Dude looks like they’ve been slowly decaying under fluorescent lighting for the past decade. You ever see someone who just radiates corporate misery? That’s them. Their entire personality is ‘I hate my job, I hate my life, I hate that I’m standing here breathing air right now.’”

V hummed. “...So, what you’re saying is, they’re not your type.”

"EXACTLY." Misaki pointed at their screen like V could actually see them. "I’m telling you, there is a 0% chance of me falling for them. Zero. Absolutely no potential for romance. If my life was a dating sim, this person wouldn't even be a side character. They’d be like... the NPC running a convenience store who has one line of dialogue.”

Ronin was dying. “Bro. You moved in like two hours ago. How are you this sure?”

Misaki scoffed. "Because! No charm. No personality. No tragic backstory with just the right amount of angst to make them attractive. Not even a hint of adorable dumbass energy. My standards are on the floor, and somehow, they still didn’t pass."

Angel whistled. "Damn. So what are they?"

"A blank slate," Misaki declared. "Like, just a person. An overworked, underpaid, ‘I’m too tired to care’ person. They didn’t even care about my background. Just said, 'Sign here' and 'Don't open the door for strangers.' Like, where’s the spice? The mystery? The suspiciously convenient tragic past?”

V sighed. “You’re disappointed your landlord isn’t a walking red flag, aren’t you?”

Misaki gasped. “How dare you.”

“So that’s a yes.”

“I don’t want them to be a red flag!” Misaki flopped onto their stomach. “I just expected something. But no. Just a corporate zombie with an office job and the social energy of a potato.”

Ronin smirked. "Sounds like you feel bad for them."

Misaki scoffed. "I don’t—"

Angel cut in. "Oh, you totally do."

V chuckled. "Misaki’s about to adopt this poor soul."

"I AM NOT—” Misaki groaned, rolling onto their back dramatically. “Okay. Fine. Maybe I feel a little bad. Like. Bro looks so exhausted. Their eyes have dark circles so bad it looks like they’re wearing eyeliner—but not in the hot way. In the ‘I have never known rest’ way.”

Ronin cackled. "So what I’m hearing is, you’re gonna start feeding them proper meals and fixing their life."

Misaki scoffed. "I am not—”

Angel interrupted. "Misaki. You literally just agreed to have dinner with them."

Misaki paused.

"......okay but that's different!"

"Is it?"

"YES. I mean, come on, they look like they live off black coffee and regret. They need help."

V sighed, amused. "So you are gonna try and fix their life."

Misaki grumbled. "Shut up."

Ronin grinned. "You're so falling for them."

"AM NOT."

"You so are."

Misaki groaned loudly, smacking a pillow over their face. "WHYYYY."

Angel laughed. "Face it, dude. You already care."

"I DO NOT—"

"Yes, you do."

"I AM NOT—"

"Yes, you do."

Misaki groaned louder, kicking their legs. "UGHHHHHHHHHH."

V just chuckled. "You can keep lying to yourself. But we’ll be here when you eventually eat your words."

Misaki dramatically pointed at their screen. "MARK MY WORDS. I will not fall for this person."

Ronin smirked. "Yeah, yeah. Sure."

Angel hummed. "We’ll check back in a month."

V sighed. "A week."

Misaki groggily cracked one eye open, blinking at the dim light seeping through their window. Something felt off. Their brain, still half-asleep, took a few seconds to piece it together.

The clock.

They shot up. 9PM.

“OH SHIT.”

They scrambled out of bed, nearly face-planting as they tripped over their own bag. "I SLEPT SO LONG—WHY DID NO ONE WAKE ME UP?!" Their first day here and they already looked like some lazy freeloader. The impressions? SO BAD.

And worse—FREE FOOD.

They were supposed to eat with their landlord. That was the deal. The agreement. And now? They were about to walk in like some sleep-deprived goblin asking for scraps. No, no, no, I need to salvage this—

Still in their slightly rumpled clothes, they rushed out into the hallway—only to pause.

Why was it so dark?

Like, yeah, okay, it was night. But this wasn’t just regular night darkness. This was horror movie darkness. The kind where someone would definitely get jump-scared if this were a film.

"...Maybe they thought I was still sleeping and didn’t want to disturb me?" they mumbled to themselves, rubbing their arms.

Still, that meant their landlord was up. And they were probably in the kitchen.

Misaki crept forward, heart pounding from both oversleep anxiety and the eerie vibe of the house. They reached the kitchen door and, taking a deep breath, swung it open.

And immediately wished they hadn’t.

Because there, standing at the counter, was their landlord.

Covered in blood.

Chopping human hands.

"...What."

The sound of a knife steadily hitting the wooden cutting board was the only thing filling the silence. The metallic scent in the air? That was not normal food.

Misaki, frozen, stared at the scene before them. The dim kitchen light flickered just enough to make it worse. Their landlord, sleeves rolled up, hands stained red, expression completely blank.

Their mouth moved before their brain could stop it.

“...Uh. H-Halloween props?”

Their landlord didn’t even blink. Their voice was dry. Flat. “It’s human meat.”

Misaki gawked. Then screeched, “YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO AGREE WITH ME!”

Their landlord just went back to chopping. “You asked. I answered.”

"LIE TO ME, DAMN IT."

The chopping continued. Misaki, still standing in the doorway like a dumbass, did their best not to freak the hell out.

Okay. Okay. There were two options here.

Run.

Pretend this isn’t happening and get some free food.

...Misaki was so hungry.

But also. THIS WAS REALLY BAD.

They swallowed thickly. "O-Okay. Haha. Funny prank. Y-You got me. W-Wait—wait, actually, this is a prank, right? Like, like, come on. Haha, Misaki’s an idiot, they fell for it, right? Hahahaha—"

Their landlord finally looked up, blinking at them.

"...You missed dinner."

Misaki blinked back. THAT'S NOT AN ANSWER.

They forced a stiff smile. "Haha. Yeah. Super sorry about that. But, uh, back to the insanely concerning thing you’re doing—"

Their landlord sighed, sounding just...so unbelievably tired. "Do you want food or not?"

Misaki’s stomach betrayed them instantly.

A loud, miserable growl echoed through the kitchen.

Silence.

Misaki wanted to die.

Their landlord just went back to chopping. “Sit down.”

Misaki’s legs moved before their survival instincts could stop them. WHAT WAS WRONG WITH THEM.

They plopped into a chair at the kitchen table, brain screaming at them the whole time. This is bad, this is bad, this is—

A plate was placed in front of them. A steaming dish of...something.

Misaki stared at it.

Their landlord sat across from them. Staring. Expression unreadable.

Misaki picked up their chopsticks very slowly.

"...So. Haha. Just to clarify. What...exactly...is in this?"

Their landlord took a sip of their tea. "Food."

"...But, like. What food?"

A long pause. Too long.

"...Meat."

"What kind of meat?"

Another pause.

Misaki squinted.

Their landlord sighed. "Not human."

Misaki exhaled so hard they nearly passed out. "THANK YOU." They hesitantly took a bite, still on edge but way too hungry to care anymore.

"...It’s good," they mumbled through their mouthful.

Their landlord shrugged. "I know."

Silence settled between them as they ate.

Eventually, Misaki, unable to let it go, squinted again. "So, like. If I didn’t walk in on you just now, were you gonna tell me about the whole...human hands thing?"

Their landlord sighed like they had the worst headache. "...I was going to clean up before you woke up."

"*Oh, so you had a PLAN.**"

"Yes. Until you ruined it."

"SORRY FOR WAKING UP AND CATCHING YOU WITH BODY PARTS."

"Noted."

You let out a tired sigh, rubbing the back of your neck as you casually wiped the blood off the knife. “It’s nothing. Just some weird-looking shit.”

Your eyebags were doing all the talking for you. They were deep, dark, and probably had their own tragic backstory at this point. Combined with the blank, sleep-deprived expression on your face, you looked exactly like the type of person who’d chase someone down a dark alley with a kitchen knife—except you were too tired to actually run, so you’d probably just slowly walk after them like some unstoppable horror villain.

You smiled.

And not a comforting smile.

A dead inside but definitely hiding something smile.

Misaki, for some reason, just sat there, staring at you like they were contemplating something deep. You waited. And then, out of nowhere—

“…NGL, you do look kinda hot with eyebags.”

You blinked. “What?”

Misaki immediately sat up straight. “NOTHING.”

Your exhausted brain short-circuited for a moment. You knew you looked terrifying. This was not a “hot person�� moment. You were literally covered in blood, and they had the audacity to say that?

You squinted at them. “Are you flirting with me while I’m holding a knife?”

Misaki, shoving more food into their mouth to escape the situation, spoke through their chewing. “Hahhaha what nooooo you misheard me anyway sooo you’re a serial killer?”

You sighed, pushing the knife aside. “No.”

“…A cannibal?”

“No.”

“Serial killer?”

“No.”

“Cannibal?”

“No.”

“…Serial killer cannibal?”

You stared at them, absolutely deadpan.

“Cannibal serial?”

The stare continued.

“…Cereal?”

You rested your chin in your hand, blinking at them very slowly, like a tired cat contemplating murder.

“If you’re thinking about calling the police,” you finally said, voice dry and smug, “just know you can’t.”

Misaki raised a brow. “And why is that?”

You gave them a look, gesturing vaguely at their whole situation. “You see, Mx. Misaki—” (you dragged out their name for extra dramatic effect) “—you are completely fine.”

Misaki paused, chopsticks halfway to their mouth. “I feel like I should disagree with that.”

You shrugged, leaning back in your chair with the most exhausted but smug expression ever. “No, you won’t. If you were that desperate for a place to stay, why would you start questioning things now?”

Silence.

Misaki hated that you had a point.

You let your head tilt to the side slightly, your tired smile stretching just a bit. Your overgrown bangs crossed over your face, casting shadows over your already dark-circled eyes. You looked crazy. Like, the kind of crazy that wasn’t even trying to be threatening—it was just naturally unsettling.

And yet, somehow, it worked.

Misaki sat there, staring at you like they were trying to process several emotions at once.

They squinted. Then they sighed. “God. Damn it.”

You arched a brow. “Problem?”

Misaki rubbed their temples. “No, it’s fine, I just… really, really hate that you’re kinda right.”

You chuckled, pushing their contract across the table. “Good. Now, are you actually gonna sign, or do I have to sit here and look at you until you cave?”

Misaki snatched the pen. “You’re terrifying.”

“You’re still here.”

“Shut up.”

They quickly scribbled their name on the contract. And, in a moment of true genius, wrote Misaki—except they added a little meow at the end.

You squinted at it.

You stretched your arms over your head, your bones cracking like a horror movie sound effect. “Alright, you can sleep now. Unless…” You tilted your head, that same eerie, exhausted smile tugging at your lips. “You wanna watch me cut?”

Misaki immediately recoiled. “No!? Nah, ewww, bro. The hell!?”

You chuckled, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. “It’s okay. Just know this, Misaki…” You let your smile linger as you picked up the knife again, voice dropping to something too casual for the situation. “…I know where your room is.”

Misaki stared at you. Then, very slowly, nodded. “Yes. Because… we live in the same apartment.”

“Exactly.” You grinned, tapping the blade against the cutting board. “Just making sure you remember.”

There was a pause before Misaki narrowed their eyes. “…Are you actually gonna eat it?”

“Yes.” You said it so matter-of-factly, like it was just a regular grocery store steak.

Misaki gagged. “BRO.”

“Waste of meat otherwise,” you replied, moving the chopped… pieces into a storage container like this was just your regular meal prep. “I’ll store it.”

Misaki looked so deeply disturbed. “You look like a whole-ass horror movie antagonist right now.”

“Yes,” you said, unbothered, still focused on your work. “I am a mess. Last time, the dry cleaners didn’t believe it was just suit paint. Had to be real careful.”

Misaki rubbed their face. “Jesus. The fact that I don’t even know if you’re joking or not is crazy.”

You glanced up from your task, eyes dark and unreadable. “Don’t try anything stupid, Misaki.”

They stiffened slightly. “Uh. Yeah. Of course not.” They pointed a thumb toward the hallway. “I’m just… gonna go this way…”

You gave a slow nod. “And I’m gonna stay here…” You trailed off, staring blankly at the cutting board.

Misaki hesitated. “And… do what you do…”

You smiled again, soft and exhausted. “Good night, Misaki.”

They stood there for another second, just long enough to question every single life choice that led them to this moment. Then, very quickly, they left.

Because if they stayed in that kitchen any longer, they were pretty sure they were going to start questioning their sanity.

Misaki slammed their door shut so hard the walls rattled. They didn’t care. Their heart was pounding in their chest, adrenaline coursing through their veins. They pressed their back against the door, locking it in one swift motion before triple-checking that it was actually locked.

They had just walked in on their new landlord butchering human hands.

HUMAN. HANDS.

They squeezed their eyes shut and took a deep breath.

Okay.

This was fine.

This was so fine that their fingers trembled as they fumbled with their phone, opening the group chat and pressing the call button for the three people they trusted most in this world.

📞 Calling: Ronin, Angel, V.

Each ring made their pulse spike. Misaki was practically vibrating with panic by the time someone finally picked up.

“Who died?” V’s voice came through first—sharp, unimpressed, and already so incredibly done.

“I DID.” Misaki whisper-screamed, throwing themselves onto their bed and clutching the phone like a lifeline. “I JUST FOUND OUT MY LANDLORD IS A SERIAL KILLER—ACTUALLY, NO—A SERIAL CANNIBAL.”

Silence.

It stretched on for a few painful seconds before Ronin, always the worst possible person in situations like these, finally spoke up:

“That’s so f*cking cool.”

“SHUT UP, GOREBIY.” V immediately snapped. “MISAKI, GET OUT. NOW.”

Angel, normally chaotic, actually sounded concerned. “Wait, wait, wait, explain. Are they, like… bad bad? Or just… you know… manageable?”

“OKAY,” Misaki took a deep, shaky breath. “So, I woke up, right? And I go to the kitchen—AND THEY’RE JUST CHOPPING UP HUMAN HANDS.”

Ronin whistled. “Damn. Whole hands? That’s commitment.”

V exhaled sharply, like they were personally suffering. “MISAKI.”

Angel hummed. “…Maybe they just like fresh ingredients.”

Misaki squinted. “Angel.”

Angel cleared their throat. “I—I mean—that’s weird! Super weird! Ha ha! Who would do that?! Not me.”

“You absolutely would, and you’re in denial.” Misaki deadpanned before continuing. “ANYWAY, I was like, ‘bro, is this some kind of Halloween prop or something?’ AND THEY JUST—THEY JUST DRYLY WENT, ‘IT’S HUMAN MEAT.’”

V: “LEAVE. GET OUT. CALL THE COPS.”

Ronin: “WHY WOULD YOU CALL THE COPS? THIS IS FREE CONTENT.”

V: “I SWEAR TO GOD, RONIN.”

Misaki flopped onto their back, exasperated. “NO, Y’ALL, LOOK. They seem chill. I don’t think they’re gonna eat me. I’m just saying—THEY’RE A SERIAL KILLER, LIKE US.”

Silence.

A heavy, judgmental silence.

V: “…That does not make it better.”

Angel: “That kinda makes it better.”

Ronin: “That definitely makes it better.”

V: “I NEED NEW FRIENDS.”

Misaki sat up, grinning. “Look, I swear, I think they’re cool. A little dead inside. A little tired of life. A little unhinged. But, like, in a fun way.”

“…Misaki.” Angel sighed. “Tell me the truth.”

“Yeah?”

Angel sounded incredibly unimpressed. “Did you think they looked hot?”

Silence.

A very dangerous silence.

Then, Ronin burst into laughter.

“OH MY GOD.”

V groaned like they were physically in pain.

Angel sighed, exasperated. “You’re so hopeless.”

“I—” Misaki felt personally attacked. “OKAY, LISTEN, IN MY DEFENSE—THEY HAD A PINK APRON ON.”

V: “WHAT DOES THAT HAVE TO DO WITH ANYTHING!??”

Ronin: “NO, WAIT, I SEE THE VISION.”

Angel: “Honestly, I kinda get it.”

V: “STOP AGREEING WITH THIS.”

Misaki pointed at nothing. “They looked extremely messy and hot. Like, imagine eyebags so bad it looks like they’ve been awake for years. They had the tired, dead-inside psycho look but with, like, a pink ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron.”

“…Oh my God.” V sounded like he were suffering.

Angel sighed. “Fine. I won’t tell you to run. But. If they start getting weird with you—”

“WEIRDER.” V corrected.

“—you call us immediately, alright?”

Misaki saluted. “Aye aye, captain.”

V groaned louder. “I’m going to find you a new place. Don’t die before then.”

“No promises.” Misaki grinned.

And with that, they hung up, absolutely pleased with themselves.

Because, let’s be honest.

This was gonna be fun.

For the first few days, things were… weirdly normal.

Sure, their landlord was a serial killer and a cannibal, but Misaki had seen worse. They were alive, weren’t they? Not chopped up in the fridge? Not marinated in some mystery sauce? That was a win.

Besides, they had their own room, cheap rent, and, most importantly—free shit.

Like, actual free shit.

Their landlord didn’t just let them stay, they gave them access to everything.

Netflix? Free. Wi-Fi? Free. Streaming services? Free. Some random subscription to an online manga site? Also free.

All just handed over.

Misaki had barely even asked. One offhand comment about boredom, and boom.

"Oh. Here. Just use mine."

BRO.

They were living the life.

Their job wasn’t too bad, either. As long as they kept doing their work remotely, no one cared. Meanwhile, their landlord was busy being a corporate slave—dragging themselves to their soul-sucking job every single morning and coming back more and more dead inside.

But hey. That was their problem.

Misaki? Misaki was thriving.

At least… until today.

Misaki woke up to a noise.

It wasn’t an alarming noise, per se, but it was… consistent. A weird, low dragging sound.

Their brain, still foggy with sleep, immediately jumped to the worst conclusion.

Oh no. They’re dragging a corpse again, aren’t they?

Great. Fantastic. How wonderful.

They rolled over, pulling the blanket over their head. Maybe if they ignored it, they could go back to sleep.

...But the sound didn't stop.

If anything, it started sounding worse.

Like something falling.

Something heavy.

That... didn’t sound like a body.

Curious—and slightly concerned—Misaki sighed, pushing themselves up. They dragged their feet as they left their room, rubbing their eyes. The hallway was dark as hell, but they could vaguely make out the shape of their landlord collapsed on the floor.

...What.

What.

Panic immediately shot through their body.

"OH, SHIT."

They rushed forward, kneeling beside them. "HEY, HEY, WAKE UP—WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?"

Their landlord groaned, eyes fluttering open. They looked **even worse than usual—**which was impressive, considering they always looked like they’d been awake for seventy-two hours straight.

Misaki frowned. “Dude, what the hell? You okay?”

Their landlord sighed.

Then, in a deep, tired, deadpan voice, they muttered:

"I hate my job."

…

Misaki blinked.

"Bro, you just fainted. Are you dying?"

"No. I just hate my job."

"Okay, but like. Why."

Their landlord slowly sat up, rubbing their face. "Because it's hell."

"That’s not a reason."

They groaned, dragging a hand down their face. "I deal with the dumbest people imaginable. Every day. Just absolute idiots. My boss is a parasite. My coworkers are stupid. And my clients? Even worse."

Misaki hummed. “Sounds like hell, alright.”

Their landlord exhaled sharply. “I swear, I would rather be—” They suddenly froze, seeming to remember who they were talking to.

A fellow criminal.

A fellow killer.

Someone who would absolutely call them out.

They cleared their throat. “Uh. Metaphorically.”

Misaki snorted. “Sure, sure. Totally not suspicious.”

Their landlord just groaned.

They looked so done with life. So exhausted. So miserable.

And—ugh. Misaki was starting to feel bad.

Like, yeah, their landlord was a murderous cannibal, but they are nice!

Misaki sighed as they trudged toward the kitchen, rubbing their face. The day had already been too much, and now they had to figure out what to cook for you, of all people.

You, the psychotic, dead-eyed, possibly-a-murderer-but-still-weirdly-chill roommate.

Still, they did feel kinda bad for you. Not bad enough to ignore the human meat in the fridge, but bad enough to cook something edible.

They pushed the kitchen door open—

Only to suddenly get shoved against the table.

Their back hit the surface with a dull thud, and before they could even process what happened, there you were.

Standing over them.

Looking at them.

STUDYING them.

Like a damn predator.

Misaki’s heart jumped. Their entire body locked up, every survival instinct they had screaming at them to run.

And then—

Then, their eyes drifted down.

And they saw the shirt you were wearing.

They blinked.

Once.

Twice.

HUMAN BY CHANCE, ALPHA BY CHOICE.

They just stared.

Dead.

Silent.

As if their soul had physically left their body.

Three full seconds passed before they finally spoke.

“…You cannot be serious.”

You tilted your head. “What?”

Misaki slowly lifted a hand and pointed. “THAT. WHAT YOU’RE WEARING.”

You glanced down at the godforsaken t-shirt, completely unbothered. “Oh. It was on sale.”

“OF COURSE IT WAS.”

“I think it’s funny.”

“IT’S NOT.”

You ignored their entire reaction. Instead, you just stared at them again.

And then you spoke.

“You look really delicious right now.”

Misaki blinked.

They froze.

Their brain completely short-circuited.

“…Th-thanks? I try?” They ran a hand through their hair, suddenly hyper-aware of their own appearance. “I mean, I thought I was average-looking, but—”

Wait.

WAIT.

HOLD ON.

Their brain finally caught up with the situation.

Misaki jerked back in horror.

“BRO. I’M NOT FOOD. GET THE HELL OUT.”

You snorted. “Relax. I promised I wouldn’t eat you.”

Misaki squinted. “That doesn’t make this less creepy.”

“I just wanted to take a look at you.”

“FOR WHAT?!”

You shrugged. Your eyes scanned them, like you were inspecting something. Calculating.

Then, suddenly—

“What’s with the gun?”

Misaki stiffened.

They immediately reached for their holster, confirming their weapon was still there. “...What?”

“You’re armed,” you said simply. “Why?”

Misaki scowled. “Uh, duh, I’m not stupid? I just moved in with a cannibal. You think I wouldn’t bring a gun?”

You blinked. Then, without hesitation—

“What kind of a killer are you?”

“EXCUSE ME?”

You gestured vaguely. “You’re clearly trained. What’s your thing?”

Misaki’s eye twitched.

“…I’m an assassin.”

You stared.

“…Oh.”

Silence.

More silence.

Then—

“So you’re bad too.”

Misaki threw their hands up. “OH, AND YOU’RE SO SAINTLY?”

“No, I’m just saying. You kill people too.”

“THAT DOESN’T MEAN WE’RE THE SAME.”

You tilted your head, watching them. “Why do you do it?”

Misaki exhaled sharply. “Because I’m broke.”

“...That’s it?”

“I have debts.” They crossed their arms. “Paying for my parents.”

You froze.

The air shifted.

For the first time, you didn’t have anything to say.

Misaki narrowed their eyes. “What? Surprised?”

“…No.” Your voice was quieter now.

Misaki was still standing in the kitchen, arms crossed, replaying the last five minutes of their life in their head like a buffering video.

What the hell just happened?

They had been ready to make you food because, surprise surprise, even unhinged serial killer cannibals needed to eat actual meals sometimes. Then, suddenly, BAM. They got slammed against the table, stared at like a premium cut of wagyu steak, and then hit with the existential crisis of realizing their creepy, horrifying, serial-killer housemate might not be as emotionless and dead inside as they originally thought.

And now? Now, they were standing there, hands in their pockets, watching as you wandered back into the kitchen like nothing happened.

Like you hadn’t just acted like some kind of deranged, sleep-deprived maniac in a cursed T-shirt.

You looked at them, tilting your head slightly, before rubbing the back of your neck.

“...Maybe I’ve fallen for you.”

Misaki choked on their own spit.

“I’M SORRY, WHAT—”

You sighed like this was some grand, tragic confession instead of the most batshit insane thing you could possibly say at this moment.

“I usually eat my housemates,” you said casually.

“EXCUSE ME?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Two so far. Both gone in a day.”

Misaki took a full step back. “What the actual—”

“But you feel different,” you continued, like you hadn’t just admitted to literal cannibalistic homicide. “I don’t want to eat you.”

“Oh, WHAT A RELIEF.”

“You make me feel… energized.” You stared at them, brows furrowed slightly, like you were still trying to figure it out yourself.

Misaki swallowed, every muscle in their body tense. Should they be running? Because they should probably be running.

And then—

“So, do you want to eat together?”

Misaki blinked.

“Do I want to—HELL NO.”

You shrugged, completely unfazed. “Okay.”

Silence.

Then you tilted your head, as if a new idea suddenly popped into your deranged little mind.

“Do you want to be lovers?”

Misaki’s brain blue-screened.

“WHAT.”

You nodded, still way too casual about this whole thing. “Lovers. Dating. Romance. That stuff.”

Misaki stared at you.

Long.

Hard.

As if staring at you long enough would force you to make sense.

It did not.

“What the actual hell are you talking about.”

“I’m saying we should date,” you said, blinking at them like they were the weird one here.

Misaki took another step back. “WE HAVEN’T EVEN BONDED.”

“Okay,” you said with a slow nod, like you were completely open to negotiation.

“Okay?”

“Do you want to marry me instead?”

“WHAT. THE. ACTUAL. HELL.”

You just blinked at them again, waiting for a response like this was some totally normal topic of conversation.

Misaki dragged a hand down their face. “Dude. We haven’t even—WHY is that the next logical step?!”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. But I am falling for you.”

“OH MY GOD.”

Silence.

More silence.

And then, as if suddenly struck with divine inspiration, Misaki sighed deeply and crossed their arms. “Fine.”

You tilted your head.

Misaki smirked. “I’ll give you a challenge.”

You raised a brow. “A challenge?”

“Yeah,” they said, grinning. “February. It’s the month of love, right?”

You just nodded.

Misaki leaned in, poking your forehead lightly. “You wanna win my heart? You got one month to make me like you back.”

You stared at them, processing.

Misaki’s smirk grew. “And if I do like you by the end of February, then maaaybe we’ll talk about this ‘lovers’ thing.”

You were quiet for a long moment.

Then, with that same exhausted, dead-eyed expression, you nodded.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

You nodded again. “Yeah. Also, you don’t have to pay rent for February.”

Misaki paused.

“...Wait. Hold up. What?”

“No rent,” you repeated. “February’s free.”

Their eyes narrowed. “Are you… bribing me?”

“Yes.”

Misaki grinned. 'Okay!'

IT'S NOT OKAY

Misaki collapsed onto their bed like a ragdoll, face buried in their pillow as their entire soul reeled from the conversation they just had.

What the hell was happening.

They had moved in less than a week ago. Found out their landlord was a literal serial killer/cannibal. Somehow weren’t dead yet. And now?? Now their psychotic, sleep-deprived, blood-covered housemate was falling for them??

What kind of romantic horror-comedy bullshit was this??

And worse, WHY was the rent-free month kinda tempting?!

Misaki groaned into their pillow before rolling over and grabbing their phone. They needed backup. NOW.

They dialed The Chaos Hotline.

Aka: Angel, Ronin, and V.

Within seconds, V picked up.

“Misaki,” V said immediately, tone suspicious. “You never call. What happened.”

Ronin’s voice piped in from the background. “Oh, oh, is this about the cannibal landlord? Are they hot?”

Misaki sat up. “WHY is that your first question?!”

“Because it’s important.”

Angel sighed. “Misaki, please tell me you didn’t get into a hostage situation again.”

“No! I mean—maybe?! I don’t know!” Misaki ran a hand through their hair. “Okay, LISTEN. They—they confessed to me.”

Silence.

Then—

“What?” V sounded like Misaki just committed a war crime.

“LMAO” – Ronin.

“Holy shit.” – Angel.

Misaki flopped back on the bed. “I don’t know how it happened!! One second they were staring at me like a five-star wagyu steak, and the next they were like, ‘I think I’m falling for you.’”

Angel gasped. “You made the serial killer catch feelings?”

Ronin wheezed. “BASED.”

V was not having it. “Misaki. Get. Out.”

“Dude, they said I don’t have to pay rent for February.”

“STAY.” – Ronin.

“OH MY GOD.” – V.

Angel hummed. “So… ”

Misaki clenched their fists. “STOP ASKING THAT.”

“Which means yes,” Angel said smugly.

“I—LOOK. I MAY HAVE SLIPPED AND CALLED THEM HOT, OKAY?!”

More silence.

Then:

Ronin. Wheezing. “You—YOU LIKE THEM TOO, DON’T YOU?!”

Misaki exploded. “I DO NOT LIKE THEM BACK. I JUST THINK THEY LOOK KINDA HOT COVERED IN BLOOD. IT’S AESTHETICALLY PLEASING, OKAY?!”

V. Exasperated. “MISAKI.”

“I’M NOT.”

“You’re literally getting romanced by a serial killer, and you’re already calling them hot when they’re covered in human remains.”

Misaki groaned. “This is not happening. This is a stress response.”

Ronin snorted. “Sure, buddy. Keep telling yourself that.”

V sounded done. “Okay, so what’s your plan? Because if they’re a serial killer, you probably shouldn’t lead them on.”

Misaki hesitated.

“…I may or may not have made a deal.”

Angel perked up. “Oh?”

Misaki winced. “I told them… that if they can make me fall for them by the end of February, then maybe we can talk about the ‘lovers’ thing.”

Silence.

Then:

Ronin. Losing their absolute shit. “MISAKI, WHAT THE HELL?!”

Angel cackling. “THIS IS A ROM-COM.”

V. “MISAKI, THAT’S NOT HOW YOU HANDLE A CANNIBAL KILLER.”

“I PANICKED, OKAY?!?!”

Ronin was dying. “You gave a cannibal a dating challenge?!”

“Yes??”

“Bro.”

Misaki groaned, covering their face. What the hell was their life.

Angel giggled. “So what’s their next move, you think? Romantic dinner date? Valentine’s Day surprise? Ooo, what if they give you a human heart in a box?!”

Misaki shuddered. “PLEASE don’t manifest that into the universe.”

V sighed. “You need to be careful, Misaki. If they actually get attached, that’s dangerous.”

Misaki huffed. “Relax. I got this. I’ll make sure they fall out of love before the month ends.”

Ronin snorted. “Or you’ll fall for them first.”

Misaki scowled. “No chance in hell.”

Angel smirked. “We’ll see.”

[inside-lees-mind]

Risky isn’t Proper.

Hyoga x Reader

All my requests rn are SFW and I wanna write NSFW so I’m gonna put this out real quick then get on those!

Warnings: NSFW. Very suggestive. But nothing really happens a

Vague manga spoilers? Idk if I’d read this if you haven’t read the New America Arc or whatever it’s call lol.

“Very proper indeed.” You can tell below that mask, he was smiling. You’ve come to form some kind of bond with the untrustworthy man by now. And overtime, you trust in him more than you thought you would. After sparing with him, using the Kudayari technique he taught you and Mozu, he was looking at you with what you might call pride for how well you’ve done.

Once nightfalls, both of you are cleaning up a bit. And in retrospect, maybe together wasn’t the wisest idea ever. The thought didn’t cross your mind about the implication, but it crossed his. He didn’t figure you hadn’t planned to get him alone.

When you pull your shirt off, back facing him, his eyes cut towards you briefly. He wonders if you could possibly have simply meant to wash up and go back up. As naive as you are, in his eyes at least, he begins to think he’s correct about that.

“You’re strong, and you’re certainly not a meat brained idiot, but how naive can you be?” He suddenly asks, and when you turn to look at him confused, he’s wearing only that short skirt of his, not even the mask. You gulp, trying not to show how seeing his face makes you nervous suddenly.

“What? What do you mean?” You ask, genuinely as confused as can be as to why he suddenly sounds sinister almost. Though, that’s just the way he is, you don’t feel in danger, but you’re starting to wonder if you should. Are you just too trusting? Is that what he’s talking about?

“‘Let’s wash up together.’” He quotes you, smiling. His smile never fails to be off putting, yet somehow he looks sweet. Your face flushes as you realize. “You simply meant that as is, hmm? If I were one of those meat brains, I’d be thinking I’d be getting lucky down here. You should be more careful.”

Advice? Is he giving you advice for safety? Or is he trying to tell you he’s hoping for something?

“I didn’t think of it that way. Have you got a dirty mind?” You raise an eyebrow. He scowls, clearly unimpressed with the teasing.

“Be careful with that mouth of yours.” He warns, eyes narrowed at you.

“Or what?” You ask faster than your brain could think to stop you. You gulp as he steps closer. He doesn’t reply, instead he places a hand on your waist, pulling you closer. His lips meet yours a bit harsher than you were ready for, but you don’t fight him on it. In fact, you kiss back eagerly within mere seconds.

His lips are full and soft against yours as his long, skinny hands grab at the skin on your hips, pulling you against him. His tongue pokes at your lips until you give way for him to explore your mouth. You take a moment to enjoy his taste in the heat of the moment, before he pulls away. He trails kisses down to your neck, leaving marks in his wake.

The situation heats up rapidly and his hands begin to work the rest of your garments off. Before he can get your underwear off, you place your hands over his to stop him. His eyes dart to yours quickly.

“Don’t want to now?” He asks, and his voice almost sounds softer than before.

“No, no, but somebody can walk in on us…” You mutter looking around nervously.

“They’ll get the hint to leave quickly.” He smirks, hands playing with the hem of your underwear. You lean into his touch, but your nerves still rack your brain until he decides to try to pull away. “If you can’t make up your min—”

“Wait, please.” You grab his arm, keeping him in place.

“Hmm?” Then the last of your garments hit the floor, his as well.

[rosetta-j-stone]

Day two of Bojere Week 2025 let's mm mm gooooo!

Day 2 - (vaguely) NSFW - Trying not to get caught

(FYI this is the follow-up to this fanfic from Bojere Week 2024 )

BikBik: Hei

BikBik: Hei

BikBik: Heiiiiiiiiii

CarpeEveryDiemSlideIntoEveryDM: ...hey : )

BikBik: I work it out. Meet me outside. 5 mins.

CarpeEveryDiemSlideIntoEveryDM: ????

CarpeEveryDiemSlideIntoEveryDM: JERC IT'S 4AM

CarpeEveryDiemSlideIntoEveryDM: Literally everyone is asleep right now

BikBik: Exactly ; )

BikBik: <gif: "Mr Bean Eyebrow Wiggle">

CarpeEveryDiemSlideIntoEveryDM: ...ok you make some excellent points

***

It takes him rather more than 5 minutes to navigate his way off the bus, as (i) he has to pull on some clothes first and (ii) PastBojan hadn't factored in potential wee-small-hours shenanigans when picking a bunk. Thank goodness the gang are all heavy sleepers.

"Bojan. What are you doing?"

He nearly jumps a foot in the air. He'd somehow forgotten about Kiki. Kiki, who is currently wide awake, leaning against the door with his arms folded, and looking VERY unimpressed at whatever excuse Bojan is about to come up with.

He almost turns and slinks back to bed right then and there.

But no. Jere is outside. He HAS to go.

"I was...heading out. You know. For a smoke?"

Kiki relaxes a little. But only a little.

"And this couldn't wait until a more civilised hour? Or, I don't know, daylight at least?"

"Kiki. Stari. C'mon man. I'm GASPING right now."

Kiki sighs, and Bojan knows he's won this round.

"FINE. But stay near the tourbus. No wandering off and getting murdered."

Bojan grins.

"Kiki, you already know perfectly well I'm only going to die onstage at the age of 90 in the middle of the most epic Demoni scream EVER."

Kiki merely grunts as he lets Bojan out and - hvala bogu - closes the bus door behind him.

Now to find Je-

Oh.

THERE he is.

Bojan feels all the air leave his chest.

"Well...well don't YOU look like a walking felony" he manages, finally.

Jere grins and steps closer. "Rude of The Bojan to criticise MY outfit when he always say HE is Most Wanted by Fashion Police"

Bojan rolls his eyes. "It's from Legally Blonde you absolute HEATHE-"

He doesn't get any further before Jere's hands are in his hair and his lips are on Bojan's and-

See Kiki...I wasn't lying...I really was ABSOLUTELY GASPING.

Eventually, reluctantly, they break apart, coming up for air. For a moment they just stare at each other. Jere breaks the silence.

"Not bad for...what you call me?" he quirks an eyebrow in a way that does THINGS to Bojan's already-jittery pulse.

"I called you a...an absolute heathen. Which," he grins, "you absolutely are. Why else would you be out here at ungodly o'clock?"

Jere smirks in a way that says You know damn well why.

"I figure it out. Kris say 'No Sex On The Tour Bus', yesyes?"

Bojan grins. "You found a loophole". He has a sudden thought. "Jerc, I hate to break it to you but there is no way we'll both fit UNDER-"

Jere rolls his eyes and gestures at the van. The van in which the crew have been accompanying the tour bus.

Ohhhh.

RIGHT.

Well.

He takes a deep breath.

Here goes nothing.

[crushingonevery1]

Im okay (part 1)

Warning: nothing really, slight mention of anxiety, reader has a chip in her body, i think that's it

Pairings: Peter Parker x girlfriend reader

School just ended and Peter and you were sitting in detention after being caught talking in class. You were both guilty of getting detention on purpose more times than you would like to admit. Your uncle and aunt were never home during this time so you got the most freedom to spend time with Peter. And currently, they were both on a business trip and had locked the mansion basically leaving you on the streets to fend for yourself for the week. You weren't complaining tho May and Peter had very generously offered for you to live with them whenever that happened, cause it happened way too much. Your uncle would come to find you through the tracker installed in your shoulder once they were back. You were sure he knew about Peter but just didn't care or didn't find a 17-year-old too dangerous for his "asset".

You were both just exiting school and going back home when Peter got a call from Mr Stark of course you knew about him being Spiderman so after reassuring him that you will be fine and that he should hurry up, you made your way towards Peter's while he left for the avengers tower.

-------------------------------

At the tower, it had been a few minutes since the quinjet had landed and everyone was scattered in the living room and kitchen filling up. Peter was texting you every detail of his mission and happily smiling when you told him you were proud of him. Obviously everyone noticed that the usually talkative teen boy was smiling and blushing towards his phone and not talking to anyone or even replying when Tony called out to him. so Tony after getting ignored for the second time finally pulled out Peter's phone out of his hand looking at who he was texting.

"TONY!!" Pepper shouted clearly unimpressed.

"Relax pep I'm basically his dad" he replied very confidently looking through the texts before finally clicking on your pic. All the while Peter just sat quietly trusting Mr Stark with anything and deciding it was about time he told them about you despite you saying no.

"Who you texting kid??" asked Sam all the way from the kitchen clearly entertained knowing Tony was in for an ass-whooping later.

"umm... my girlfriend..." that got everyone's attention. It was TOO quiet for a good 2 mins before Tony finally pitched in.

"She's cute. Although I'm not sure telling her every detail of our mission to impress her is a good idea, you are not THAT ugly kid."

"WAIT WHAT!!!"spoke the one and only captain america " Peter how could you be so reckless!!". He was clearly disappointed and usually peter would instantly apologise when he saw someone upset. not this time tho, he felt the need to defend you.

"no shes not like that i swear, she would never... She's already got so much of her own stuff going on she can't and she won't."

Seeing the usually too obedient kid argue against cap everyone understand whoever you were, you were important to Peter and they will figure out whether you were a danger or not before passing anymore comments to hurt the kid. They all kept quiet and Peter was about to apologise for being rude when Scott spoke up from the couch next to him. "so hey, when do we get to meet her?? How long has it been? How'd you meet? Give us the deets kid."

Seeing all of them waiting impatiently for his answer made him a lot more calmer before he decided to answer a few questions they might have.

"Her name's y/n. She's in my maths class, and she's like super smart, like more than me. We started officially dating like a month back but we were best friends before that too. She's really close with Ned and MJ too!!" He was practically shouting out of excitement by the time he finished. They smiled widely at the whipped teenager remembering their own first loves and congratulating the spider. When everyone was done sharing their first love experiences Tony finally spoke "As much as I loved hearing about Manchurian candidate being a complete chick magnet, circling back to the exciting part of today, Underoos,when do we get to meet the spider girl?" This made Peter blush profusely before he finally spoke

"Mr stark, you know how my birthday is next week ??" At this tiny doubtfully nods, clearly dissatisfied that his question was ignored. Ignoring the expression on the older man's face Peter continues "Do you think you could throw me an early birthday party...like today?"

Completely forgetting everything at the name of a party Tony very happily replied "You got it Underoos, EVERYONE!! TONIGHT AT 8!! MY KID'S TURNING LEGAL!!"

"next week stark, the kid turns legal next week, you're not letting him drink today"

Ignoring the fight in the background between Tony and Steve everyone went back to whatever they were doing while Peter made his way to the kitchen where Sam, Bucky, Pepper and thor and loki sat. He quickly took a seat at the table dialing your number extremely excited to hear your voice.

"hey honey, did you reach home safe??" "Yes I did Pete I texted you remember?"

"Right!Is may home?" "No she went to help aunt Betty she told us yesterday at dinner"

"oh that's even better! Hey Mr stark is throwing me a birthday party tonight can you please join us it would mean the world to me" "ofc Pete anything. But...your birthday's next week isn't it ?"

By now the convo between Bucky and thor had calmed down and they were all very much listening to your conversation with zero shame.

"Yea! Yea ikr! I told Mr stark but you know him, he's so ...extravagant!!so he just wanted to have a early celebration" the lie made everyone hearing cringe very evidently but they awaited your reply not expecting you to buy that.

"right... I'll be there ofc but umm...you think u could meet me at the gate...I don't want to have to walk in among all the supers completely alone... actually nevermind I'm being a baby I'll be there, you enjoy with your frien-" "hey relax, breathe for me, I'll be coming home in a bit we'll get ready together and come to the party together don't worry, okay ? Rest well honey I'll be home in an hour"

They were superheros for godsake your unusual anxiety instead of excitement over your boyfriend's birthday was wayyyy too obvious in your voice, but there was currently a bigger issue at hand...

"YOU'RE LIVING TOGETHER?!?"

------------------------------------

[infiredlove]

Internship Begets Rivalry

Chapter Five: Disturbance in the Routine

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader Genre: Romcom, Drama Word Count: 2,381 Summary: In a cutthroat music internship, competition turns complicated when you find yourself tangled in a constant, tension-fueled push and pull with your rival Min Yoongi. Masterlist | Chapter One

I had a plan.

Step one: Avoid Yoongi.

Step two: Pretend nothing had happened.

Step three: Continue my life as if I hadn’t sat next to him in the quiet hush of the night, heart racing, feeling something I didn’t want to name shift between us.

It was a solid plan. Too bad it lasted all of two days.

"You're acting weird.” Amber narrowed her eyes at me over her coffee, stirring it lazily as we sat in our usual café on campus.

I scoffed, reaching for my own drink. "I am not acting weird."

Krystal raised a brow. "You dropped your fork three times at lunch."

"Maybe I have weak fingers!"

Luna snorted. "Or maybe you're avoiding Yoongi like the plague."

I nearly choked. "I am not—"

"—avoiding Yoongi?" Amber cut in, unimpressed. "Really? Then why did you literally duck behind a vending machine when he walked into the practice room this morning?"

Damn it. I thought no one had seen that.

I cleared my throat. "It’s called strategic positioning."

Krystal sighed. "Oh my god."

Luna smirked. "Did something happen between you two?"

"NO!"

Three sets of very unconvinced eyes stared back at me. I huffed, shoving a piece of my muffin into my mouth.

What could I say? That I kept thinking about the way his voice had softened when he told me maybe Jae was his problem? That I felt different, even though nothing had actually happened?

Yeah. No thanks.

Amber leaned back in her chair, sighing dramatically. "Well, whatever’s going on, you better figure it out soon. We’ve got a big weekend coming up."

Krystal nodded. "The networking gala is in two days."

Luna wiggled her eyebrows. "And I know you wouldn’t miss an opportunity to show up in something slutty and make all those pretentious music industry executives regret underestimating you."

I groaned. "Ugh, I forgot that was this weekend."

Amber shot me a look. "You can’t forget. This is huge—our internship directors will be there, plus a ton of industry pros. You need to be on your A-game."

I sighed, already dreading it. The gala was an annual university event, a formal networking mixer for the entertainment department. Professors, students, and industry insiders all gathered to make connections, show off their progress, and—most importantly—snoop on their competition.

It was important. It was also miserable. Nothing but forced smiles, overenthusiastic schmoozing, and professors subtly dropping hints about who was in the running for top internship rankings. To make matters worse, of course, Yoongi would be there.

Great. Fantastic. Just what I needed.

Luna smirked, nudging my arm. "Maybe this will be good for you. You’ll have no choice but to stop avoiding your favorite rival."

I scowled. "I hate you."

She cackled. "I know."

Amber grinned. "Look at it this way—at least it’ll be entertaining."

I doubted that.

But as I sipped my hot tea, I couldn't shake the feeling that this weekend was about to be anything but routine.

---

The problem with formal events wasn’t the dress code. It wasn’t the over-polished conversations, the way people laughed just a little too loud at mediocre jokes, or even the fact that the entire thing felt like a performance.  

No, the problem was that I had to stand in the same room as Min Yoongi and pretend I wasn’t being weird about it; Which, judging by the way I’d already stumbled over my own words twice and nearly walked into a waiter, was going terribly.

Amber, Krystal, and Luna had taken it upon themselves to make sure I looked, in their words, “so good even the devil will be thirsty.” Which was not the goal by the way. They had shoved me into a sleek, subtly sexy dress before I could argue—A floor-length gown in a rich, lustrous silk satin with a deep V-neckline and a high slit up one leg.

Now, standing in the middle of the ballroom with a flute of champagne in my hand, I was regretting everything. Especially when Yoongi sauntered into the room, every step measured, exuding an effortless charm. I didn’t need to turn to see him arrive. There was something infuriatingly intuitive about Yoongi’s presence, like my body had started tuning itself to his frequency, picking up on him in a crowd without needing to look.  

And when I finally did bring myself to look?  

Yeah. Of course. He looked good.  

His usual casual, effortless style had been swapped for a sharp, tailored black suit—just loose enough to be his version of formal. His expression was calm and unreadable, but I caught the slight tension in his jaw, the way his fingers twitched at his sides.  

He didn’t like these events either. That should’ve made me feel better. It didn’t. As soon as our eyes met across the room, a knot twisted in my stomach. He blinked, his head tilting just slightly—like he’d caught the way I tensed.  

When he started making his way over I knew he was about to say something. Probably some teasing remark, something to poke at my awkwardness and make this entire night even more unbearable so I did the only thing I could.  

I turned on my heel and ran away. Okay, fine. Ran might be dramatic. I strategically relocated to the other side of the ballroom, toward the buffet table, where I could at least busy myself with pretending to be interested in overpriced hors d'oeuvres.  

I picked up a tiny, pretentious-looking appetizer, eyeing it with disdain. “Why do rich people make everything bite-sized?”  

"You ran away from me." his deep voice rumbled behind me.

I nearly dropped the caviar-topped pastry. Of course he followed me. I turned slowly, forcing a smirk. 

"I have no idea what you’re talking about."  

Yoongi crossed his arms, one brow lifting in lazy amusement. "Uh-huh."  

I popped the appetizer into my mouth to avoid answering, chewing dramatically.  

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "You’re acting weird."  

I swallowed. "I am not acting weird."  

Yoongi studied me for a second. Too long. Too carefully. And then, with the most maddening smirk, he leaned in slightly. "Whatever you say."  

I should’ve had a comeback. I always had a comeback. But right now? With him standing just a little too close, smelling warm, earthy and distinctly Yoongi? Yeah, my brain was empty.  

And the worst part? He knew. 

I could see it in the way his smirk deepened, the way his eyes flickered just slightly over my face before he straightened, acting like he hadn’t just completely thrown me off balance.  

Infuriating. Absolutely *infuriating.*  

I cleared my throat, gripping my champagne glass like it would anchor me. "Shouldn’t you be off charming the professors? Making sure they know you’re still competing for the number one spot?"  

Yoongi exhaled a quiet chuckle, tilting his head. "You worried about me taking it from you?"  

I scoffed, tossing my curly hair over my shoulder. "Not even a little."  

"Good." He hummed, eyes following my movements.

Then, before I could say anything else, he was gone. He just walked away like he hadn’t been the one messing with me. I let out a slow breath, pressing my lips together.  

This was fine. Everything was fine. I could totally survive this night without making a fool of myself. If I could get through the next two hours without embarrassing myself, I’d consider it a personal victory.

Yoongi was somewhere in the ballroom, floating between conversations in that way he always did—half-in, half-out, saying just enough to be polite before making a smooth exit. Meanwhile, I had resorted to sticking with my friends, relying on them to keep the night from becoming a complete disaster. And, to my surprise, I was actually having fun.

Krystal had stolen a bottle of champagne from a distracted waiter, Luna was aggressively flirting with one of the industry reps (“Networking, babe, it’s all about networking”), and Amber had somehow convinced a small group of students to start a low-stakes betting pool on which professor would get drunk first.

We were deep into placing bets when a familiar voice cut through the conversation.

"Why am I not surprised you’re running a gambling ring at a university-sponsored event?"

I turned to find Yoongi standing there, hands in his pockets, looking far too amused for my liking.

Amber grinned. "Jealous? We could cut you in if you place a good bet."

He snorted. "Not interested in losing my money to her." He jerked his chin toward me.

I smirked, swirling the champagne in my glass. "Smart man."

Luna leaned in conspiratorially. "Oh, come on, Yoongi. Live a little."

He rolled his eyes but didn’t move away, lingering near our group like he was perfectly comfortable here. And, to my surprise, my friends let him. Maybe they were just tipsy enough to find his presence entertaining rather than antagonistic. Or maybe they’d started seeing what I hadn’t wanted to admit yet—that whatever this thing was between me and Yoongi, it wasn’t going anywhere.

Either way, they welcomed him into the conversation. And somehow, somehow, the night just kept getting more fun.

At one point, Krystal dared Yoongi to steal a napkin from one of the VIP tables (“You think you’re so sneaky? Prove it.”), and the absolute audacity of him to do it without breaking eye contact with me was something I’d be thinking about for days.

Amber turned to the dance floor, hair slightly tousled, cheeks flushed with amusement. “You guys are so boring standing around. You,” she nudged me, “need to have some fun before you explode from overthinking whatever the hell is going on in your head.”

“I’m fine,” I muttered, swirling the last of my champagne.

“No, you’re not,” Luna countered, linking her arm through mine. “Which is why we’re going to dance.”

I shook my head. “Nope. Not happening.”

Krystal smirked. “Oh, it’s happening.”

Before I could protest, they dragged me toward the center of the room, where the music had shifted from soft background jazz to something more upbeat, something designed to loosen the stiffness in the crowd.

For a moment, I let them pull me into the moment. The bass thrummed beneath my feet, the warmth of the champagne making my limbs feel lighter, and I allowed myself to laugh when Amber twirled me dramatically before pulling me back in.

It felt good to forget everything, even if only for a song.

But my reprieve didn’t last.

Because the second I glanced up, I met Yoongi’s gaze across the room.

He was leaning casually against a column, drink in hand, intently watching. Not talking to anyone, not joining in the conversations buzzing around him. Just drinking me in with his eyes.

And damn him—he smirked when he caught me looking.

I narrowed my eyes, turning my back on him, but the damage was already done. My pulse had quickened, and I hated how easily he could get to me without even trying.

Amber, following my line of sight, whistled. “You two should just—”

“Shut it.” I cut her off immediately.

She rolled her eyes. “Coward.”

Before I could argue, someone tapped my shoulder.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” a voice murmured, smooth and just a little too knowing.

I turned.

Jae.

Up close, he looked the same as I remembered—too polished, too poised. He was the kind of person who made charm feel like a weapon, and his smile now was razor-sharp.

I stiffened. “Didn’t expect to see you either.”

His smirk widened. “I tend to show up where I’m wanted.”

“Well you picked the wrong place today,” I replied flatly.

Amber glanced between us, sensing the shift in my demeanor. “You want a drink?” she asked, squeezing my hand in silent question. I hesitated. I wanted an excuse to leave, but if I walked away, Jae would think he had won something.

“No, I’m good,” I said instead. Amber lingered for a second before nodding. “I’ll be right over there.”

I appreciated it. But it didn’t change the fact that I was now alone with Jae in the middle of a crowded dance floor.

“So,” he mused, tilting his head, “still playing this little game of yours?”

I frowned. “What game?”

His eyes flickered past me, just briefly, and I knew without turning that he was looking at Yoongi.

“You’ve always had a type, darling,” Jae murmured.

My stomach twisted. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Funny how history repeats itself, isn’t it?” His smirked grew slowly, disgustingly—like he knew everything. 

A cold chill ran down my spine. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

Before he could answer a new, familiar presence stepped in. “Is there a problem here?”

Yoongi was standing beside me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him. His voice was casual, but his eyes weren’t. They were locked onto Jae, dark and unreadable.

Jae raised a brow. “Didn’t realize I was interrupting.”

“You weren’t,” I said quickly, eyeing Yoongi.

Yoongi didn’t take his eyes off him. “Sure about that?”

I shot him a glare. The last thing I needed was him inserting himself into whatever this was.

Jae chuckled. “Don’t worry. I was just catching up with an old friend.”

“We’re not friends,” I snapped.

“Right,” he said easily, still smiling. “My mistake.”

He gave Yoongi one last slow glance, then me, before stepping away.

I exhaled sharply, turning to Yoongi. “What the hell was that?”

He didn’t answer right away, just watched as Jae disappeared into the crowd. Then, finally, he looked at me.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

I scowled. “I don’t owe you an explanation.”

His jaw ticked. “I didn’t say you did.”

The air between us was thick. The tension from earlier now mixed with something heavier. I turned to leave but Yoongi caught my wrist—Soft, barely there, but enough to stop me.

“Be careful with him.” His voice was quiet, almost too quiet. I hated that it sent a shiver down my spine.

I pulled my hand away. “I don’t need your concern.”

A look of frustration crossed his eyes for a few seconds. “Fine,” he murmured. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

And just like that, he was gone.

But the tension?

That was far from over.

------------------------------------

Masterlist | One | Four | Six

[marvelous-llama]

ATEEZ recs

<<original book

most of the mentioned works is 18+ NSFW, MINORS DNI

pls don´t hesitate to hmu, if any of mentioned links doesn´t work or you have suggestions for more fics... thank you so much for all the love and comments

one shots

ROOMMATE by @essenteez

Mingi x fem!reader (wc - 5k) roommates to lovers - smut, fluff after failed attempt to impress your handsome roommate, you decided to stop making a fool out of yourself and went back to the old, unimpressive you. Lack of dress code around the house and general chaos came back for good. Little did you know, the "hard-to-impress" roommate began to see you with very...very different eyes.

♡ 𝖘𝖓𝖊𝖆𝖐𝖞 𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖑𝖊 𝖉𝖊𝖛𝖎𝖑 ♡ by @babesindestroyland

Mingi x fem!reader (wc - 1.9k) - smut, fluff? After a passionate weekend together you start ignoring Mingi's texts and calls which only makes him crave you even more

[12:27am] by @min-gis

Mingi x fem!reader (wc - 0.3k) - smut, fluff

𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 by @binniesbobastay

Mingi x fem!reader (wc - 3.9k) established relationship - smut, fluff, crack You try to maintain innocence when your boyfriend, Mingi, asks you to spend the night with him for the first time... but soon you can't help but lose control

Ditto by @sluttywoozi

Mingi x fem!reader (wc - 4.4k) friends to lovers - fluff, smut You've liked Mingi for a while now, but every time you try to hang out one on one, it turns into a group thing. Will you be able to act normal now that you've finally gotten him alone?

𝔡𝔬𝔲𝔟𝔩𝔢 𝔰𝔱𝔲𝔣𝔣𝔢𝔡 by @kitten4sannie

San x fem!reader x Mingi (wc - 2.4k) - smut

Numb My Pain by @yeonjuns-beanie

Mingi x fem!reader (wc - 5.1k) strangers/childhood friends to lovers? - angst, smut

mind over matter by @mingisaddctn

Mingi x fem!reader (wc - 2.8k) best friends to lovers - smut

7 Minutes in Heaven by @k-hotchoisan

Mingi x fem!reader (wc - 2.3k) friends to lovers - smut a game of spin the bottle lands on you and Song Mingi for a dare of 7 minutes in heaven. Right. We all know what’s coming.

We fell in love in August by @mingigoo

Mingi x fem!reader (wc - 14.7k) best friend´s brother trope, minor love triangle (ft Seonghwa) - fluff, smut, romance Believing that you were destined to be with your best friend seonghwa all your life, his little brother Mingi was never a thought in your mind. After reuniting with the brothers after years of being abroad, you had your mind set to get together with seonghwa—until Mingi stole your heart without warning.

nothing compares to you by @noramoons

Mingi x fem!reader (wc - 3.2k) established relationship - fluff, smut you’re relieved when you wake up from a nightmare—especially once you realize mingi has been having a much, much different kind of dream than you.

counting stars by @min-gis

Mingi x gn!reader (wc - 2k) established relationship - fluff, smut(ish) even though the sun woke you up way too early, you can't bring yourself to complain.

sick by @lovelyjaem

Mingi x gn!reader (wc - 0.3k) established relationship - fluff

skinny dipping by @byuntrash101

Mingi x fem!reader (wc - 2.6k) established relationship, swim team captain!Mingi - fluff, smut your boyfriend he is so focussed on training for the upcoming championship he forgot tonight was supposed to be date night but maybe he can make it up to you with a relaxing massage in the pool

Crazy Form by @holybibly

Mingi x fem!reader (wc - 12.k) strangers to lovers, idol!Mingi - smut Seven times you've been lucky, on the eighth Song Mingi from Ateez shows you a side of himself that his fans will probably never get to know.

brother by @hanjisungs-bigtittyg0thgf

Mingi x fem!reader (wc - 3.7k) best friend´s brother, mutual pining - fluff, smut your best friend's brother finally makes a move

series

show & tell by @jensthwa

Mingi x fem!reader (wc - 8k + 11k) childhood best friends to lovers, mutual pining, idiots to lovers - fluff, angst, smut You have known Mingi since you both were fourteen. You’ve been by his side through thick and thin and you would do anything for him, really, considering he’s your other half. When he has an unfortunate bed experience and asks for your help and you say yes, he starts considering that, maybe, you’re just the best friend a guy like him can have. part 1, part 2

[strontiumsun]

Ahead of Pokemon Day, I'm throwing out my Pokemon Legends Z-A starter predictions:

Snivy, that evolves into a Grass/Steel Serperior

Litten, that evolves into a Fire/Fairy Incineroar

And either Piplup, that evolves into a Water/Ghost Empoleon OR Sobble, that evolves into a Water/Poison Inteleon

Color palette from here.

Theory-crafting after the cut!

Snivy

I mentioned on my Serperior art that I think this Pokemon is a shoo-in for Z-A. It's literally based on French nobility. Aside from its design, I think Serperior is deserving of another form with more min-maxed stats. Competitively, Serperior lives and dies by its Contrary ability. Without it, it's base 75 Special Attack is wholly unimpressive. It's fast, somewhat bulky and weak. It can do better!

I'd like to see a Grass/Steel Serperior that wields itself like a rapier or epee. I'd redistribute its Special Defense and Special Attack points into Attack and Defense, and keep the speed, making it a physically defensive fast attacker. With Swords Dance, Leaf Blade, Sacred Sword and Smart Strike - or a new Steel-type signature move - plus its great options like Coil, Leech Seed and Glare, I could see this being a very effective Pokemon in competitive.

Litten

I didn't so much choose Litten as it became the only viable option. Emboar is ruled out because of Snivy; Charizard and Blaziken are ruled out because they have Megas; Skeledirge is too soon. That left Infernape, Incineroar and Cinderace, and of the three I feel Incin has the most potential.

Incineroar may be the most popular and effective support Pokemon in doubles, but it's no secret this Pokemon isn't great in singles. A new Incineroar form based on singles, with an equally busted ability as Intimidate, could be pretty cool.

Theme-wise, I like how Litten is a black cat, reminding me of this famous French poster. As for Incineroar, I think a Fire/Fairy clown or mime-inspired design would rock. Alolan Incin is a wrestler with a heel persona who secretly has a heart of gold; Kalosian Incin could have the appearance of a cheerful clown but really be quite sinister. It would be an interesting juxtaposition.

Stats-wise, Incin's speed is the main issue, but making it bulkier could offset that. I'd gut its Special Attack and move those points into more bulk. I'd also give it Recover so it can act more like a wall with an amazing defensive typing, and Trick to cause havoc by switching items. Flare Blitz, U-Turn and Knock Off would stay in its moveset, with the addition of Play Rough or another new signature Fairy STAB. Now imagine if it had an ability like Magic Bounce. Scary!

Piplup

Piplup seems like an obvious choice... which is why I'm not all in on it. I'm worried that two Pokemon with similar vain personalities based on French rulers in one starter trio might be too much overlap.

If Piplup does get in, I'd like to see a Water/Ghost type Empoleon. Imagine a hazard-setting spin blocker with Competitive. That would be pretty OP.

Sobble

Sobble is my least favorite Pokemon. I despise this creature. But Inteleon really needs something more in its kit to help it stand out from other Water type attackers. I could see it being used to represent the gentleman thief Arsène.

Water/Poison is the type I'd like to see and one I've seen cool concept art for. Kalosian Inteleon could be a fast pivot with the ability to disrupt the battlefield. I'd give it some kind of signature Poison type move that sets Sticky Web, plus Mortal Spin so it can remove its hazards on its side of the field. Stats-wise, I'd move its attack into Special Defense, retaining its high speed and special attack. Kind of like a more potent attacker version of Tentacruel.

[unitedbydevils]

Match Review: Manchester United 0-3 Bournemouth

Can you call that a match?

I like Amorim and I like his style of play for the team, but on this occasion he dun goofed.

Zirkzee has shown us nothing as the first choice striker, yet led the line against a high pressing, eager Bournemouth. Best case we have possession and pin them back, worst we hit them on the break. Zirkzee isn't that forward. Amad and Bruno as the 10s... they can do it, but they also prefer to be in possession. This game was crying out for Hojlund, Garnacho, Rashford in some combination.

That being said, I'm generally unimpressed with our attackers for the most part this season, so that's not reward for OMG THEY'RE SO GOOD. They haven't been. Rasmus in Europa aside, we've been very meh.

The problem yesterday was that nobody had a good game - even Amad. United were poor in and out of possession. We looked half a yard off it and we looked confused. And worst of all, we missed a handful of clear-cut chances AND clearly didn't listen to the boss, because 53 mins in he made subs. If you're getting hooked 8 minutes after half time you fucked up.

I will say that statistically, we didn't deserve to get humped. 2.66 xG to 1.4 yesterday. In United's favour. Just goes to show how poor Bruno and Garna's misses were. It also serves as a reminder to folks why Garnacho needs more development time. He's very right foot focused, akin to Antony's left. I understand that more gametime might help his confidence and development, but that's a risk to then lose someone else's input. Bruno and Amad as 10s are far more proficient on the ball and offer a more rounded game.

As for the Cherries... Bournemouth's header in the first half was yet another free nod to score. Poor from Zirkzee in defending, especially with his height and frame.

Their second was a penalty from a dogshit tackle by the usually-impressive Mazraoui.

The third goal started from a pointless dink pass attempt by Mainoo. Mazraoui up field from an attack meant that Bruno deputised at RWB - good man. The problem there was that Bruno got beaten for the reaction time, Yoro was ball watching, and so too was Martinez in the box, rather than I dunno... marking Semenyo who then had a tap-in.

This is the challenge that Amorim faces: players when it's going well stay focused and composed and look comfortable. When it's not... we're seeing who can hack the pressure and who can't.

I think United have a core collection who won't be shifted anytime soon, and who genuinely could be in a title-winning team if things worked out for us, but there's a cluster of people who are the reason we're nowhere near that and a new group of people who aren't in either camp. This is very much the season of "you're either with us or against us" in that sense - you can either help us win a title or you need to go. Onana, Mount, Dalot... they all fit in that bracket, but more and more I'm thinking Lissandro Martinez is too. And that's frustrating. The Butcher is an easy to love player, talismanic, a bit mad... but his defensive performances this season have been visibly sub-par and I'm worried he's playing himself out of the club. Maybe a back 4 suits him and not a back 3. I could sympathise with that. Same way Dalot's had struggles at RWB (and LWB but we forgive that).

Maybe I'll do a post on the squad and how I'd approach it if it were Football Manager: who stays, who goes.

Next up: the Dingles on Boxing Day, with Wolves on another new manager bounce vs us and a strong win against Leicester. Sigh. The Bogey Team are going to do us again, aren't they?