#all the books I read tend to mush together

[h3ck]

I finally made a goodreads account bc my memory is so bad I will immediately forget any books I have read (or want to read) and once I remove them from kindle app they cease to exist because I have not mastered object permanence and my mind is an abyss

[lovebugism]

could i request “mean” eddie and reader going swimming somewhere and maybe she’s in her swimsuit and someone says something that makes him jealous? also just want to say i love you writing sm!!! <3

hi, lovely! thanks so much for your request and your kind words!! i hope you like it xoxo (1.7k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

Eddie can’t stop staring at you.

It’s not like it’s his fault, though. You’re all sprawled out beside him in a plastic lounge chair, clad only in a bathing suit that leaves little to the imagination. It’s an all-black number with little white bats all over it, clinging to you like it was made to do it.

It’s a wonder the two of you even made it to Hawkins Community Pool, honestly. Eddie's thoughts verge on obscene at the sight of you. But then again, they tend to when you're on his mind.

You lay with your hands folded above your head, totally surrendering yourself to the golden sunlight. It gives Eddie the opportunity to gaze at you fully — even though sometimes he thinks he’s already memorized you by now.

He analyzes you like it’s the first time he’s ever seen you, like you’re the last thing he’ll ever see.

The pudge of the top of your breast spills over the hem of your bikini. The skin of your stomach bulges underneath your high-waisted bottoms. The fullness of your thighs begins to glow beneath the glittering daylight.

He commits all of this to memory and figures maybe that’s what the sun’s doing too, as it paints your skin more golden.

He doesn’t know how he got you. 

But he hopes your eyes are closed behind your thick glasses. Or, at the very least, that they block your view of him. Eddie knows he’s unabashedly staring at you, but he also knows he can’t stop. He doesn’t want his ogling to be met with your teasing — even if he is deserving of it.

The Lord of the Rings book in his hands goes quickly abandoned. It’s a feat he even made it to page fifty. He’s flipped through it enough times to memorize it, though. Sort of like you.

Like the novel, he could read you a million times and never get bored. The only real difference is he finds you much, much sexier than printed words on a page.

“I can feel you staring, you know?” 

Your voice jolts him from his stupor, light and golden like the slowly setting sun. Your words are nearly drowned out by the sounds of the bustling pool — screaming kids, splashing water, and people trying to converse over it all.

Eddie’s far too attuned to you not to hear you, though.

You’re not looking at him, but he can see the corner of your lip quirk in a slight half-smile.

“Can you?” he deadpans, turning back to his book like he hadn’t been looking at you at all.

The words are all mush, though. He’ll blame it on the stifling summer heat. He was the idiot out here in a black t-shirt and trunks, after all.

“Yeah,” you nod.

He sees your smile completely when you turn to look at him. The sun pierces through your amber lenses, making your eyes more visible beneath them. You’ve got one eye squinted to evade the blinding light. The beam you wear is somehow brighter.

“’S like spidey senses, you know? I can always tell when you’re looking at me, Munson.”

Eddie wants to be embarrassed at the thought. He knows that you’re joking — if only just the slightest bit — but it makes him think about all the other times he’s shamelessly gawked at you. He spent years doing it before you ever got together.

Many of his high school years were spent paying more attention to you than his homework. He thinks maybe that’s why he had such a hard time graduating.

“You’re saying my girlfriend’s a superhero?” the boy jokes, brows raised behind his curly bangs and chocolate eyes going wide. They look more golden in the sunlight, and they twinkle with mischief.

“Uh-huh,” you hum with a wider smile than before. “You didn’t know?”

He shakes his head. Some of his curls still stick to him, damp with the sweat beading on his milky skin. “No. I can confidently say that I didn’t.”

“Good. It was supposed to be a secret, anyway.”

Eddie doesn’t mean to laugh, but he does.

It’s a sharp exhale through his nose more than anything, paired with a crooked pink smile. He wishes he knew how much of a dork you were a year ago. He might’ve asked you out sooner.

“Brush up on your spidey senses before you go out patrolling the neighborhood, alright, Spiderwoman?” he jests in a monotone, turning the page of his book even though he hadn’t actually read it. “’Cause I totally wasn’t staring at you.”

You know he’s lying.

And it’s not just because you could feel it — even though you think his button-eyed gaze can be palpable in its attentiveness at times. But what you lacked in superhero senses, you made up for in awareness of all things Eddie Munson. 

You knew when he got quiet that he was in his own head. And being that you hadn’t heard a single page turn in several minutes, you figured his eyes must’ve been on something other than the book in his hands.

Your quip was hardly more than a lucky guess, really.

“Good,” you hum as you flip over onto your stomach. Your backside had been completely deprived of sunlight before now. You prop yourself up on your elbows and lift your sunglasses to the top of your head. Your teasing gaze is no longer amber-coated. “‘Cause that would mean you find me attractive.”

“And that would just be a travesty, wouldn’t it?” Eddie scoffs.

He looks over at you again and finds your changed position. Your back is pointed towards the sun now, the very bottom of your ass on full display. Your thighs are indented softly from the slatted chair beneath you.

He can’t pry his eyes off the combination of the two despite knowing you’re watching him right back.

“It’s okay if you have the hots for me, Eds,” you tell him, feigning sympathy. “I’d only make fun of you a little bit.”

Eddie stays silent for half a moment too long, then shakes his head to dismiss the thought. “Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart. It’s just the heat.”

You scoff. “Yeah. Let’s blame the way you’re ogling at me on sunstroke.”

He still finds it a bit difficult to be your boyfriend sometimes — or just a boyfriend. And it’s not because of you. Not in the slightest. He just sort of put a wall around himself when he was younger. He’s been behind it so long he’s forgotten how to let people back in.  

And even though he hasn’t said it yet, he loves the goddamn shit outta you. But for some reason, he can’t let himself be vulnerable in that way — can’t even ask to touch you without coming up with some lame excuse that covers up all his vulnerable-ness.

“You, uh… You put sunscreen on, right?” he asks, shifting slightly in his chair. He spares a brief glance your way from the corner of his eye, halfway concealed by the fluffy brown curls framing his face.

“Yeah?” you answer with pinched brows. “Right after I forced you to put some on, remember?”

He scrunches his nose as he squints at you. It takes everything in you not to lean over and kiss the tip of it. “I don’t know,” the boy singsongs as he tilts his head to his shoulder. “I don’t remember it, actually…”

“Then maybe you’re the one that needs to get checked out, Eds.”

“I think I should just put some lotion on your back,” he summarizes with a shrug, already rising from his chair to swing his legs over the side of it. “You know, just to be safe.”

The teasing glint in his eyes makes you grin. You trap your bottom lip between your teeth to dim its brightness, lest how happy he makes you go to his head.

Your feet lift in their air and twist together with a girlish excitement. It makes your ass wiggle gently. Eddie swears you’re doing it just to tease him.

“Get my legs, too, while you’re at, yeah?” you quip.

Eddie reaches for the tote beside your chair with an effervescence that can only be described as a boy on Christmas morning — his present: the opportunity to touch you. He rises again with the blue bottle in his hand.

A low whistle sounds from behind the both of you.

“Looking good, sweetheart,” Billy compliments with a smirk as he walks by your chair. He’s in his lifeguard uniform — a pair of red swim trunks and his toned, golden torso.

He lifts his sunglasses from his face and rests them on top of his curled mullet. His crystal blue eyes gape at you, far sharper than Eddie’s chocolate syrup ones.

“Bite me, Hargrove,” you deadpan in response.

“I like the sound of that,” he laughs, chomping spearmint gum between his pearly white teeth. He spins on his flip-flops and walks backward to keep ogling at you. “Just give me the word and I’m yours, darlin’.”

He disappears in the bustling crowd after that, fading like rubbed-in sunscreen. You forget about him the second he’s gone.

He’s always been an asshole like that. It’d be a rookie mistake to give more than half a shit about him. But Eddie still feels the boy’s presence like a mean, lean, green monster full of envy. It’s like he’s still there — close enough to punch, even.

He isn’t sure if it’s the heat or if he’s actually seeing red.

“What an asshole,” you murmur under your breath.

“I’m gonna kill him,” Eddie snaps.

“Whoa,” you drawl within a laugh. “Slow your roll, tiger.”

The boy's eyes go wide as he looks over at you again. “I’m not even sure what I just said, honestly.”

“You’re a dork who plays Dungeons and Dragons, remember? You can’t start talking about fighting Billy Hargrove.”

“Yeah. You’re probably right,” he sighs, rigid body finally loosening with the heavy exhale. He squints at you after. “You don’t think I could take him?”

“I don’t thank you have to,” you lilt.

“That’s such a non-answer, babe.”

“I’m just saying,” you giggle with a shrug. “I’m asking you to feel me up, Eds. Not that creep.”

A rosy smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth, smug and full of love.

You meet it with a grin of your own. 

“C’mon, I’m burning to a crisp over here,” you urge, shifting in the chair just to make your thighs jiggle in the way you know Eddie likes.

His eyes glaze over at the sight — one he’s seen a million times now — and you know it’s done the trick.

“Let’s give Hargrove a show, yeah?”

[theneworder]

BEST WORK YET

Here she is: my best work yet. I feel a little bad in all honesty, because my intentions were never good. I only chose her because she was my ex's best friend, not because I saw any real potential.. but then, I suppose you can always surprise yourself.

Look at her, preening herself, arching her back, shoulders pushed together, reaching for every drop of attention the room can give her.

"Come here darling, come sit in my lap, good girl, princess. Yes, be a good girl, let daddy rest his hands there.."

When I started dosing her, she was actually something special.. She read Tolstoy, embroidered in free time, she was poised for scholarships and research grants for her work in the environmental humanities. I'm not sure what she does now to be honest..

"What do you do, baby?"

She doesn't know apparently... she does 'stuff'...

See I took advantage of her good nature, told her I needed to speak to her, to someone who knew my ex, that I just needed help getting closure. That was enough proximity; after two meetings and two dosings, she wasn't really thinking too critically anyway.

Then, as her mind dulled, I started to have my way with her. I remember that dumb look in her eyes when I kissed her in the doorway, I dressed it up all romantic for her, just to tie her in even deeper. Told her I was sorry, that I couldn't hold back anymore - she was all giddy and breathless, confusing the chemicals raging inside her for storybook feelings. Perhaps she was confusing her cunt with her heart. She was dumb enough by then. She didn't even notice the line of drool dripping down her chin.

She didn't resist either when I reached from behind and grabbed her growing tits the next day, she just mewed, pushed in closer. It was a lucky guess really, she was still wearing oversized tshirts, still had that frizzy mop of hair, I'm pretty sure she still thought she was nonbinary then. Thinking with your cunt first tends to change silly thoughts like that - she knows what she is now.

"What are you, sweetie?"

Yeah, she's daddy's girl.

That's when I had a pretty good idea that her mind was mush, I could see books were starting to get a little dusty, apartment a little less tidy. I could start the real fun then: little gifts, outfits, trips to expensive bars. With each one she fell deeper and deeper into me, but with each one she changed as well: a skirt that showed a little more leg, wearing that tight new top to the bar for me, learning to feel like a trophy on my arm. I told her that I could fix everything for her and she started to believe me. She started to hang on my every word. Look what I can make her do now:

"Rub your cunt for me, sweetie... I don't care that there are people looking, you know how good it will feel."

"Let me get you started.. Oh that feels good doesn't it princess.. Yeah, that's it, don't you stop now.. good girl.."

That girl used to go on political marches. Can you believe it?

Anyway, I'm going to take her for dinner next week to my ex's restaurant. She's a server there. I might put the reservation in her friend's name, see if she recognises her when we turn up. And when we fuck in the bathroom, I'll make sure she knows. Maybe she'll work out what she was missing...

[nevernonline]

Hello, I was wondering if I could make a request for Seventeen 🥺🥺, how would he react to seeing you breastfeed your baby in front of him?🫣

hiii nonnie!! of course <3 I'm sorry this took a second keke. I was nervous to make it feel right, thank you sm for the rec!!

I just did coups-hoshi for now so it's not too long if you want some more lmk &lt;3

SVT's reactions to you seeing you breastfeeding and taking care of your child in front of them:

choi seungcheol:

he would melt immediately!! ik this man would be the biggest softie seeing his two loves enjoying themselves.

I can picture him catching his s/o off guard while they're casually resting as he comes home excited to see the two of them 😭

would come over to them without even saying hello verbally just giving a small kiss on each of their heads to join them sitting adjacent and watching with his little smile.

obvi the queen kkuma would come to enjoy being with her now larger family. (she is the light of MY life)

kkuma and baby cheol matching hair clips, when tbh?? (why can I write all day abt dad cheol idk??)

yoon jeonghan:

would be amazed he met someone who actually wanted to raise his child. not because he didn't think anyone would, just because he knows it has to be hard staying home while he works.

he would tend HAND AND FOOT while they take care of the baby, they worked hard so he would be working his ass off making them both so so happy.

constantly found giggling and buying the baby the cutest little gifts and playing with their sylvanian families families together.

seeing his s/o breastfeeding would def not be a surprise to him!! he'd be so happy that they just feel comfortable sharing the entire experience with him.

hong jisoo:

im so sorry shua as a dad would make me melt fr??

i can't even imagine the matching daddy x baby fits.

he'd sing softly to the baby while his s/o breastfeeds

Joshua def would make their s/o a killer ass playlist for while they feed just so the baby can have a chill time during feeding and so!! his s/o constantly thinks about them while they're doing so if he's not present.

hover dad <3 but in the best way!! knows he's busy so any little chance he can have to spend with his family he takes.

would be so excited about their child's first trip on a plane, probably to visit la and introduce them to the "LA Vibes"

100% best dad and husband a person could want.

wen junhui:

absolutely has read so many parenting books to understand how much goes into the process so he is always informed and not asking you too many questions if you're stressed.

when he saw you breastfeeding for the first time, he'd definitely be intrigued not in a seggsy way just in a genuine curiosity type of way.

he'd be really clingy asking you if you need his help for anything, pumping, diaper changing, etc.

above and beyond dad type like his s/o wouldn't even know what hit him.

him trying to teach your newborn his name >>>

playing you and your baby sweet piano medley's while plastering his cute smile all over the room.

def would enjoy sharing baby food

NEVER leaving your side, but in a helpful way, he'd def drop everything to be by your side like the best partner ever???

kwon soonyoung:

he's the mom 100%

I can picture him just literally going mush over the fact he has a child?? like??

would be tactile as hell to you while you breastfed, just crawling in the chair behind you to wrap his arms around you and his child, he has to be a part of it ALL.

showing everyone photos and videos 24/7 of the family he created. like he's so PROUD!!

compares his and his s/o's baby photos to see who their child looks like more and even if it isn't him, finds the smallest comparison to his features and gives them a nickname from birth based on that.

maybe a clumsy father at times but in the most endearing way.

makes choreography to cool baby songs and shows them off while his s/o feeds their baby for entertainment.

sings really soft and sweet love songs over a baby monitor.

[666writingcafe]

you're one of our top favorite obey me writers so we'd thought we'd just slide this in here-

I've recently been fixating on a loud hispanic / latinx MC, we're puerto rican, dominican, AND cuban, so we're just super loud and over the top. i personally would love to see how the brothers and dateables would react to that. idk if you're taking requests but that'd be super cool, and the mc doesn't have to speak spanish! But we picked up an accent from our families and we'd thought that would be sooo silly if mc had one too!

Peppermint Collective

(p.s: you don't have to do this if you don't want to, we just would love to see it :D)

First of all, I appreciate the compliment. I'm grateful that you guys like my writing.

I'm going to start with the brothers and see what you all think before doing the dateables (and Luke). Hopefully, what is presented below is close to what you guys were envisioning.

Obey Me x A Loud Hispanic MC With An Accent (Part One)

Lucifer initially isn't the biggest fan of MC because the last thing he wanted was a human version of Mammon. However, as he gets to know MC, he finds their behavior rather charming. At the very least, he knows that they can keep up with his brother's energy. As for MC's accent, he finds them easier to understand when they're relatively calm, for the more excited they get, the thicker the accent becomes. This has caused MC to become irritated at him on multiple occasions, because they don't want to have to repeat themselves a bunch of times.

Mammon and MC are basically besties. He's one of the only people that can understand MC no matter what, and he makes sure to rub that in everyone's face. Like, of course the Great Mammon can keep up with MC; he was their first, after all. The two of them have been caught having entire conversations with just looks and hand gestures, and that's because they're so expressive that they don't always need words to get their point across.

Levi doesn't really know what to think of MC. On the one hand, he can't stand it when they're with Mammon, because once one gets loud, the other matches their volume, making it pretty much impossible for him to focus on anything. On the other hand, he emphasizes with them, because he tends to be loud and over-the-top too, especially when it comes to his interests. However, his energetic peaks and valleys always seem to be the exact opposite of MC's, so it's a bit difficult for them to spend much time together without getting on each others' nerves.

Satan for the most part keeps his distance from MC. It's not that he doesn't like them; rather, it's that their energy overwhelms him, and he has to maintain a certain level of calmness in order to keep his sin under control. On the rare occasions that MC speaks in an "inside" voice, Satan can listen to them talk for hours. He loves their accent. If he could catch them during a calm moment, he would like to ask him to record themselves reading some of his favorite books aloud.

Asmo and MC spend a lot of time together, because these two love to gossip. They bounce off each other quite well, actually; they give the types of reactions the other is looking for. However, there have been times where Asmo struggles a bit to understand exactly what MC's saying. He gets the general gist in these moments, but sometimes they talk so quickly and loudly that the words sort of mush together in his ears and turn into slight gibberish. And he hates it, especially when Mammon starts bragging about his relationship with MC.

Beel is used to his brothers being loud and over the top, and he's learned to treat the whole thing as white noise. So, having one more voice added in the mix really doesn't make that much of a difference to him. However, this ability to block out noise has gotten him in a bit of trouble with MC, because he doesn't do the best job at listening to them. He does try to pay attention, but when MC's in one of their more exuberant moods and starts talking a mile a minute, the old habit kicks in as he starts thinking about things completely unrelated to whatever conversation they're trying to have with him.

One might expect Belphie to despise MC due to their noisiness, but that's not really the case. Sure, there have been times where MC has prevented him from going to sleep, and that irritates him. However, that doesn't stop him from being drawn to them. He's fascinated by how MC can remain so energetic during most of their waking hours. He's also the only other brother that can understand everything that MC says. He may not appear to be paying attention, but when asked to repeat what MC said, he does so perfectly. He's even gotten on other people's case about making MC repeat themselves, because he feels like they're not that hard to understand.

[atinylittlepain]

2024 Jan 14th

THE ARCHIVE

Captain's Log is a weekly dispatch from yours truly. New issues will be up every Sunday, with a smattering of whatever has been marinating for me that week. Book recommendations, grief thoughts, music, art, wranglings with writing. We'll see! But my guarantee to you is one new issue, every Sunday babyyyyyy

{ If you enjoy Captain's log, consider sharing it, leaving a comment, or a little tip. }

In this issue:

meditations on writer's block

The Lost Month of the Lost Months

Two (2) book reviews

One (1) soup recipe

I hate writing! (I love writing)

Some of you have heard this story already, and for that I apologize. For the rest, I entered college four years ago with the full intention of being a creative writing major. I was going to write the Next Great American Anything. And then I took the first two courses of the major, an intro to literary theory and an intro to poetry class, and by the time I was done with those two classes, I no longer wanted to be a creative writing major. Blunt force scalpel, prying apart the jaws of words and work until all we were left with was loose teeth and gummy mush. 

And because I was eighteen, and very angry all the time I did the very angry all the time thing of turning up my nose and stomping in another direction. I didn’t write, not counting APA-style papers, for three years. 

To cut this story short, a constellation of events were strung together in the last year to make it very necessary, very crucial, for me to write again. So I did, and I wrote a lot, and most of it was bad, and some of it was good. It wasn’t difficult to keep writing. I would finish with one idea and leap over into a new one with little effort. I would start things with little worry for whether I would finish them, because I always did. Now, as we inch further into the new year, this is no longer the case.

Writer’s block always seemed like such a bourgeois phenomenon to me, someone who mostly sees writing as manual labor, as muscle and will. I didn’t get blocked because writing wasn't an optional thing, until I did get blocked, and writing has since become a despondent wife lingering in my doorway, bemoaning my neglect. 

And believe me, I have fought against this new development tooth and nail. Renouncing fic because I thought it was getting in the way of other writing, picking fic back up because at the very least, I could write it, if nothing else, then renouncing fic all over again. Threatening another three year writing death, then limping to my friends with my tail between my legs asking them if they really (really?) thought I was good enough to keep going. And throughout all this fighting, all this squirming and prickling, very little writing got done. 

When you read articles asking writers what they think about the dreaded block (as I did with all the rigor of a hypochondriac consulting WebMD) they tend to scoff, turn up their perfect writer’s hands and flick the thought away. And for the longest time I thought this was only a sort of peacocking, a tough guy, too cool for school flippancy because they’re so great, so brilliant that they never even consider that they could be blocked. But I recently read another article (yes, it has gotten that bad) and I realized that it wasn’t that these writers don’t believe in the block, just that they call it by other names. Time to rest, time to read, time when the idea is there and gumming up into something more real, more realized in the mind. In this way, writing becomes a kind of muscular expanding, and subsequent contracting. I’m not blocked. I’m just contracting, curling up close and tight around a couple ideas that could be next.

I’m reminded of this past July when I was working on my first novel. A good day was five thousand words, and a minimally decent day was a cool thirty-five hundred. These days, if I can sit down and get a good five hundred, it’s the greatest mercy. And I do realize, for the record, the irony of this, writing about how I’m not writing. Humor me.

Currently, there are three ideas for three different novels I’m letting work between my teeth. When I got home after traveling for New Years, sodden and weak and wan, I lurched forward into one of these ideas with a zeal that tore the whole thing to pulpy shreds, a new wound to nurse. So now, mostly I’m reading, and doing some of this writing that isn’t really writing (don’t tell anyone). And finally, I’m not fighting it, as much. The time to expand will come, eventually. For now, everything else is a gift. 

Reading Dispatches

I read two books this week. One I liked, and one I didn’t.

Really, truly, I wanted to like Bad Fruit by Ella King. A few friends recommended it to me, and it’s certainly got that trendy femme-tesque aesthetic going on. Promising at first - a crazy mother and her mandatory rituals, familial trauma being passed down through visions, spoiled juice, a fuckass father in a recliner, and an older man with the disposition of a golden retriever - but the writing fell flat. Outside of the main character, an eighteen-year-old who acts as her volatile mother’s pet doll, all the other players felt half-drawn and underbaked, much like the plot. Sadly, I would not recommend this one.

I always get existentially bummed when I finish a disappointing book, but My Husband by Maud Ventura was a zippy little upswing, exactly what I needed. Think Stepford Wives meets The Golden Notebook - a stark and unblinking examination of the ends one woman takes to maintain her marriage. It contradicts itself at times, as it perfectly should, and demands a careful reading to pick through all of the woven neuroses of the main character, who is only named in the epilogue. And the epilogue is a perfect turn of the blade. A good one, a short one, and I can see myself revisiting it to pick up things that I missed on the first read. 

The Lost Month of the Lost Months

We’re in the bottleneck of it now. That disorienting time where you can still smack the taste of Christmas in the back of your mouth, but we’re already halfway through (!!!!) with January. The snow is gray and crusted over, if there even was any this year, and the airports have emptied out, family back wherever they come from. January, my friends, is the Lost Month of the Lost Months. We have reached critical mass for Lost Months, which is both bad news that we are in the thickest, soupiest muck of it, and good news that there is an end, just maybe not in sight, yet. 

I have no advice, no sage words to make this suckfest better. This is simply a public service announcement from me to you that I’m in the suckfest with you, and I’d bet money that all the rest of us are too. A reminder for who needs it, these are the Lost Months! If you make it to February, you’ve done great! Promise! Nothing else matters. There is no failing in the Lost Months, just doing the best we can. 

The only good thing about January, of course, is that it’s national soup month. In my clinical opinion, soup does help during the Lost Months. Here is a recipe that I make frequently during this time of year and have perfected over many years of getting perpetually sick with something snotty and achy and undefined from November through February.

CHICKEN SOUP THAT PROMISES NO MIRACLES BUT TASTES PRETTY GOOD

Ingredients:

2 tablespoons olive oil

½ of an onion (you can do the whole thing, but I don't like onion very much)

5-6 carrots cut into thick coins

3-4 celery stalks diced

8-10 cloves of garlic minced or chopped (up to you)

1 tsp of salt 

A two-inch knob of ginger finely diced (optional, but i like it)

About a ½ teaspoon of red pepper flakes (more or less, however spicy you like it)

1.5-2 lbs boneless skinless chicken breasts of thighs or a mix

6-8 cups of low sodium chicken broth (6 = more stew-ish; 8 = more broth)

1 parmesan rind ( if you don’t have this, you could also put in a big spoonful of miso paste and dissolve that in the broth, also this is optional but is a nice little touch)

3 fistfuls of spinach roughly chopped (optional for health)

1 bunch of parsley, just the tops of it, chopped (also optional)

1 Half to a whole lemon

Instructions

Get a big pot, heat the olive oil in the pot over medium-high heat

Add in your onion, carrots, celery, and salt and cook for 5-7 minutes until everything is looking a little softer, stir occasionally

Add in your garlic, ginger, and red pepper flakes and cook for another 1-2 minutes, stir frequently

Add in your broth, chicken, parm rind (or miso) and bring to a boil - then cover and let simmer for thirty minutes

At thirty minutes, pluck out the chicken and shred it with two forks or, like however you want to handle that - take out the parm rind (if using) and add the chicken back in

Add in your spinach, parsley, and lemon juice - taste and season as needed

TO SERVE: I like to do mine over a little rice with some parm on top - or, can’t go wrong with a grilled cheese (with pickles, love you, try it) on the side

Enjoy your soup and take heart that you have lunch or dinner for the next few days made

[theresthesnitch]

The Tangled Webs We Weave

(this started as a discord discussion and then a fic collaboration that never got collaborated and then was abandoned. I just love this too much to trash it.)

Professors Black, Lupin, Potter, Black and Evans and the Tangled mess of their entanglements are fodder for Hogwarts gossip, and Harry just can't get away.

Check the tags for warnings.

***

“Did you hear that Professor Black was caught kissing Professor Potter behind the greenhouses?”

“Wait, which Professor Black?”

“Sirius.”

“No, Miranda is the one who found them. It was definitely Regulus that was kissing Professor Potter.”

“I thought Potter was married to Evans?”

“They can’t be married. They don’t have the same last name.”

“Besides, Evans is engaged to Lupin. I saw them walking around the grounds while holding hands.”

“That doesn’t mean they're married, because I have definitely caught Professor Lupin kissing Professor Black, and I don’t think they were just kissing, if you catch my drift.”

“But which Professor Black?”

“Regulus.

“No, he’s definitely with Sirius. I know they’re married.”

“Look, Harry is sitting right there. Let’s just ask him.”

Harry groaned, wondering if it was too late to pull his invisibility cloak out of his bag. He’d come to the library to study, hoping to find a few quiet minutes to focus on his N.E.W.T.s, but the entire school was obsessed with figuring out the inner workings of the Potter-Lupin-Black-Evans clan, and Harry could not escape it.

“Oi, Potter.”

Harry turned around to find Ernie looking at him. “What, Macmillan?”

“Help us sort out which of the professors are together.”

Harry turned back to the book in front of him. “Yes, because discussing the relationship dynamics of my parents is exactly how I want to spend my free time on a Saturday.”

“Okay, but which ones are you parents?”

“Good question.” Harry picked up his quill and began writing–not that he was focused enough to actually write, but he wanted to look busy and began scrawling leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone across his parchment.

“Okay, but Potter has to be his dad, right? They’re practically identical,” Hannah said.

Susan leaned in. “He definitely has Professor Evan’s eyes, though. Have you seen her eyes? So those have to be his parents.”

“I heard that Evans was just a surrogate for Potter and Black, though,” said Justin.

“Which Black?” Zacharias asked again.

Harry groaned. “Do you all have to do this now?”

Ernie turned to Harry again. “Go on, then, Potter. Which is it? Why don’t you tell us?”

Harry closed his book and shoved it and the parchment in his bag. “None of them. I don’t know any of them.”

Harry stalked down the hallway and down the staircase until he reached the professors quarters of Hogwarts. Most students weren’t allowed down here, and Harry tended to avoid it himself, but he knew that trying to escape to the common room would just leave him with more people questioning him about his crazy family.

(Secretly, Harry loved it, but he would never dare mention it to them.)

Harry walked in the door to the common room that joined all of their quarters together. Most professors had separate quarters, and when they’d first moved in, each little family did have their own. But they were in and out of each others quarter so much that Hogwarts just intuitively adapted and built the common room between them. None of them minded the shared space.

“Oi, Prongslet, what are you doing here?” Sirius was sitting on the couch, mushed between James and Remus, while Lily and Regulus sat at the table working through papers in front of them.

“I’m escaping the hordes of Hogwarts and looking for a quiet place to study.” Harry headed back toward his room in the quarters, which he only typically used during the summers.

“What’s going on?” Lily took her reading glasses off as she looked at Harry. “Is everything alright?”

Harry sighed, leaning against the doorway. “Yeah, just the normal stuff. Everyone is obsessed with figuring out how you all–” Harry waved his hand around indistinctly “–work, I guess. Who is with who. Who my parents are. That sort of thing.”

“Go on, then.” James said. “What’s the best theory?”

“Apparently Mom is a surrogate for you and Professor Black.”

“Wait, which one?” Remus asked.

“That,” Harry said, “is up for debate. Possibly both?”

Laughter went around the room. “Alright. I have to study. Please try to keep it down.”

“We’ll try, but you never know. We might break out an in orgy in her.”

“For Merlin’s fucking sake, Sirius.” Regulus tossed a balled up piece of paper at him. “That’s disgusting.”

“We’ll keep it down, Harry.” Lily said, sliding her glasses back on and turning to the papers in front of her. “Let us know if you need any help.”

[wrathandgreed]

(I hope requests are still open) So ive been thinking. How about the brothers reaction to MC taking a large step away from them when ever one of them raises their hand up. It could be as simple as a high five. MC used to be in a abusive relationship and is paranoid about getting hit

Note: (For the record, I don’t know if you sent me this on purpose - I’ve never done requests; I’ve literally just put out my very first OM headcanons. But I figured I could try. I’ve never been in an abusive relationship, but a number of my friends have. I really hope I can do this one respect - if anything about this is not on the level, please let me know! Also, if I missed a trigger warning in the tags, or tagged this wrong, let me know. Also, for the record, I tend to like soft!Brothers and I really wanted them to try and be better - not put the onus on MC to “get over it” or anything.)

Second note: After writing this, I’m not sure that most of these guys would be a good choice for an abuse survivor! 

Third note: I am NOT good at keeping things short and, as usual, I went overboard with Asmodeus. Like, it should be its own fic at this point. But write what you want to read, right?

Warnings: references to domestic abuse, both physical and verbal. References to suicide baiting. Uncensored swearing.

~5K words

Lucifer

A strange choice; his perfectionism and exacting behavior sometimes make you remember how it was back in the human world; everything had to be JUST SO….or else.

And he’s threatened to kill you. Twice.

But there’s something inherently decent about him - and you live for the rare moments he laughs.

His perfectionism usually isn’t even about you, so you just kind of….ignore it.

You’re doing some of your RAD homework in Lucifer’s study.

It’s quiet there.

And, while he won’t do the work for you, he’ll definitely help when you’re stuck.

Also you can give him tea and soothing when he (inevitably)  gets upset at his paperwork - Mammon’s bills, Asmo’s bills, Satan’s bills (hey, dark magic books are expensive).

You start hearing the shifting and muttering that herald the beginning of the rant.

You gather the tea and walk towards his desk.

“Devil’s sake!” Lucifer suddenly snaps out, slamming hand on his desk as he reads yet another ridiculous piece of paper.

It’s not at you, the anger isn’t at you, you KNOW it’s not at you, but you freeze anyway.

Slammed hands on desks, punched holes in walls, hands on you, always hands - 

The cup of tea hits the floor and you’re out of the room before Lucifer can even look up.

He’s seen it all in your paperwork - the police reports, the restraining order, the lists of injuries - so he puts it all together before his study door closes behind you.

He knows better than to go after you immediately. You’ll want some solitude, some quiet on your own, to steady yourself a little.

If he goes after you now, it might frighten you more. Looks like hunting.

You need to know he’s calm, that he’s not acting or reacting out of emotion.

He takes his time cleaning up the spilled tea, straightening his papers.

When he shows up at your room, he has a mug of hot chocolate.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out before he can say anything. You made a mess in his study, and he’s such a stickler for everything being neat. He was angry before, but he’ll be even more angry now.

“No, I’m sorry,” he returns, and offers you the chocolate.

(You blink once. Has the Avatar of Pride ever apologized before? If so, it was never in your hearing.)

The two of you talk quietly for a time. He insists that you don’t need to apologize - ever. He insists that, while he appreciates the tea-and-break routine, it’s 100% not your responsibility to control his anger. It’s his. He says that his anger isn’t good for him anyway (just look at Satan) and he needs to take a break when that hot feeling starts. 

Maybe he should start scheduling breaks; setting timers on his D.D.D. so that he no longer works long enough at once to let it all get to him.

He doesn’t want you afraid of him.

Mammon

Mammon is pretty much the only demon who HASN’T threatened your life. He often sounds irritated, but he’s never even sounded angry at you.

If anything, he’s a mush and an abuse victim himself. So he gets where you’re coming from, and tries really hard.

So you shouldn’t be afraid of him.

But….he moves too quickly. He’s constantly jumping from one idea to another, one topic to another, one emotion to another. And that’s just emotionally.

You can’t trust where his hands will be. Ever. And that’s not a sex thing.

Sometimes, his protection of you makes you feel safe. If anyone hurts you, Mammon will hurt them a thousand times worse.

He’s funny, and his hands on you are gentle, and once you tell him about your past, he tries really hard not to go back to his “stupid human” habit, because it hurts your feelings.

But sometimes, his protection feels like obsession. Why were you talking to that guy? C’mere, you’re MY human.

Then, inevitably, the tug on your hand or arm or waist, pulling you closer.

It starts simply enough.

You’re playing video games in his room. He’s not as much of a gamer as Levi, but he enjoys them.

Especially ones where you can be competitive or drive cars really fast.

He’s been getting more and more excited, coiled like a spring. And it’s from enjoyment, not anger, but that level of energy, in your experience, explodes at some point.

You get quieter, but that only makes him more boisterous. He wants you to join in the fun! C’mon MC, did you see that?! It was awesome!

After a really impressive win, he shouts in triumph and suddenly his hand is in front of your face for a high-five.

You recoil and hit the floor, crab-crawling backwards before you can stop yourself.

His look of complete confusion, in different circumstances, might be funny. He actually looks at his hand like he doesn’t recognize it.

He drops to the floor too, “Babe? What’s wrong? Y’okay?” And he reaches out a hand towards you.

When you flinch, he gets it.

He sits on the floor, stuttering out apologies, not even finishing one sentence before starting another. He makes sure he’s cross-legged, leaning back on his hands - non threatening, leaning away, hands not hidden, but not prominent, and in a position it would take him time to move from. 

When you start crying, he can’t maintain that pose and crawls towards you, pulling you into a hug.

If you resist, you know he’ll let you go. And that’s why you just curl into him instead, crying out on his shoulder while he holds you close - but not tightly.

“I jus’ need ya to talk to me….let me know if I’m gettin’ to be too much. I know I’m loud. Just….. jus’ remind me, I’ll never be mad.”

Leviathan

Boy already has anger problems.

Envy’s kind of prone to it, you know?

On the one hand, he literally attacked you over a piece of TSL memorabilia.

On the other, he’s generally harmless the rest of the time.

He’s meek and shy and terrified of touching you - so, 95% of the time, you feel super safe with him.

When you wake with a nightmare, when something jump-starts your fear response, he talks you through it, easily abandoning whatever game or anime he’s involved in.

He’ll only touch you when you ask, or when you reach for him first.

But then there’s the MMOs.

You know you should leave when he starts getting mad. Not in a victim-blame sense, but for your own mental health it’s probably not a good idea to be around him when he raids.

He ALWAYS gets mad.

You’re sitting in his room, so involved in your handheld that you forget it’s his raiding night.

(Usually you make study plans with Satan, or shopping plans with Asmo on his raiding nights. You don’t want him to give them up; he enjoys them, but it’s not good for you to be around.)

After finally completing a tough level, you pop your headphones off just in time to hear Levi swear loudly.

You go still as a string of swear-filled trash talk fills the room. Things you’d never expect shy, needy Levi to say. 

You know it really is just trash-talk - the threats of violence are just too absurd. Rip off their arms and use their own fingers to bowl their skull like a bowling ball? Really?

Also this is LEVI. Levi? The demon who needed you to taunt Mammon about his credit card because he couldn’t do it himself? He might be Admiral of Hell’s Navy and all, but he’s not exactly threatening.

You get to your feet, a little shaken but ready to just walk out of the room. It’s raid night, and this is why you don’t hang out on raid nights. You’re not comfortable around other people’s anger.

You’re halfway across the room when Levi suddenly shouts in frustration and throws his controller on the floor.

And you’re out the door.

Levi just glimpses you as he’s reaching to pick up his miraculously-unshattered controller from the floor.

“Henry?” He calls out, just a second too late.

With only one moment of hesitation, he logs out of his raid and goes to follow you.

You had less than ten seconds head start, but it takes him almost twenty minutes to find you, sitting out in the garden, gazing at nothing.

“MC?” He calls quietly. He doesn’t want to sneak up on you.

A single blink, and the tiniest flash of fear - he left his game to follow you. 

Calculation: extreme concern - or extreme anger. 

Conclusion: Undetermined.

So you wait.

“Are you ok?”

Okay, so not mad. “Aren’t you raiding?” You ask, instead of answering. You’re not ok, but you’re also not in the mood to talk about it.

“I, uh, h-had a, uh, power outage?” Even he doesn’t sound convinced, and you snort. Levi only has three modes: simple, stuttering, and verbose. Thankfully he goes with simple. “You ran out. I was worried.”

You debate brushing his concern off, but he deserves better than that.

“I’m not good with anger. Even if it’s not directed at me.”

“Oh.” Levi pauses as he considers. He knows the basics of what’s happened. “I - I mean, I could, you know, NOT - “

“No,” you say quickly and lean in to kiss his cheek. “You don’t have to change anything. Do your raids, make stupid threats to stupid players. Just….warn me to leave first?”

Levi nods, but he skips the rest of his raid to stargaze with you in the garden, arms wrapped around you from behind as he points out different Devildom stars and constellations to you. You get a lecture on how Devildom stars are used in Devildom sailing. It’s actually kind of interesting.

Satan

Okay, seriously? The Avatar of Wrath? Author speaking here, I literally can’t picture a worse combination than an MC who’s still recovering from domestic abuse to date the AVATAR OF WRATH.

Like, yeah, he has good control over himself, but he also loses his temper in a moment’s notice.

He has CANONICALLY tortured people for calling him strange.

He flips out with no warning and destroys parts of the house and his brothers just let him do it because he’s too powerful to control when he rages.

I can absolutely see MC falling for the quiet intelligence, the consideration, and so forth, but witnessing one (1) single rage should be enough to tell them that this relationship won’t be good for their mental health.

Let’s not even talk about the (again, canonical) desire for domination, power play, pet play, etc, that kind of defines our boy.

I mean, I love Satan. Out of all the bros, he’s the only one I could imagine legit dating in real life.

But I’m a little ball of rage myself, and I have no problem with anger, mine or anyone else’s.

And the fandom (including me) can totally play cute and love on their “soft little angy boi” all they want, and he definitely has soft, sensitive sides, and I may actively choose to ignore the whole domination/power play/etc when I fic or headcanon because I really love soft!Satan….. but he’s not.

I can’t even make a headcanon, because I cannot picture a situation in which this is actually GOOD for MC.

Because no matter how hard he’ll try and control it, and how much his rage probably won’t be directed at them, I just keep picturing “It won’t happen again” except it will, and it’ll just wind up being flashbacks to the number of times “It won’t happen again” ended in black eyes or an ER visit back in the human world.

And MC walking on eggshells for eternity to avoid setting him off, and how is that healthy?

Asmodeus

Another decent choice for MC, at least on the surface.

King of consent over here, at least how I picture him. Especially for someone he cares about.

Always accepts “no” about literally anything. Don’t want sex? We’ll cuddle. Cuddling a little confining? Holding hands is cool. Really don’t want to be touched at all right now? Gossip and tea! 

You were coming to really care about the Avatar of Lust, and you believed what Simeon said about him - how much he desperately needed love and affection. You got it; you needed some, too. 

I mean, even if he’d been a bit of a jerk, he’d warmed up significantly since the pact, so new that it still burned on your skin, was formed.

But even Asmodeus wasn’t without faults. However much he focuses on love, he can sometimes, really be….mean.

You’re standing on a balcony in Diavolo’s castle, having escaped for a few moments.

He’d always been catty, gossipy, filled with drama, but the genuine affection and likability of him sometimes made you ignore it.

His constant mocking of Luke you could put down to the whole angel/demon conflict. 

His occasional snapping or poking at his brothers you could put down to being stuck in the same house with the same people for literal eons.

The only thing that might make up for your awful existence is if you just ended it.

The words haunt you as you stand looking up at Devildom’s endless nighttime.

How many times did you hear similar words yourself? How useless you were, how much of a burden, no way you’d survive on your own without him, and he didn’t even want you that much. Why didn’t you just go kill yourself?

Dammit, you think to yourself as Asmo steps out on to the balcony.

“Darling! Why are you out here all alone? Or are you waiting for some company?”

When he goes to put his arms around you, you just say “no.” Simply, quietly, emotionlessly.

Asmo circles around to look at you. “Something wrong, sweetness?”

You take a breath. Another. You consider swallowing it, again, don’t want to start a fight. Back down, put on a smile, ignore it.

But realize you can’t. You spent years dealing with this crap, and you’re not going to do it again.

“You’re mean, Azzy.” Your voice is quieter than you expected. You look up into the demon’s eyes. To his credit, he looks deeply confused and, as you take a step away from him, hurt. Before he can open his mouth, you continue, “How could you say that to Mammon?”

“Are you defending MAMMON?” He asks, torn between incredulity and anger.

“Right now? Yes. But also Luke, Lucifer, and everyone else you talk shit to. Or about. He’s your brother. Do you have any idea how much it hurts to hear that out of someone you love?”

Dismissively, “Oh, if it actually bothered him, he’d - “

“What? Beat you up? That’s not like him. So he takes it. And takes it, and takes it, until, because it’s all he hears, he believes it. And then why fight back? Why defend yourself, if you’re such a piece of shit? You deserve it, after all, right?”

You don’t even realize it, but you’re crying by this point. And you’re mad. All the mad you couldn’t fling at your abuser before is filling you now. You don’t even know if you’re talking about Mammon or yourself anymore. Maybe both of you.

“And even though he’s beaten down, you keep going. When he won’t respond to the usual anymore, when that doesn’t seem to hurt him, rile him up, you go worse. You told your brother, who you claim to love, to kill himself. We’re barely even friends. So what happens when I annoy you? Should I just go die now, save you the trouble of telling me to do it later?”

You step right up to him, into his personal space, almost nose to nose, and stare directly into his red-yellow eyes. “Is this who you are, Asmodeus?”

Asmo has gone from defensive; incredulous and angry, to baffled, hurt and worried in just a few minutes. But at your last, pointed question, he jerks his head back as though you slapped him. Not knowing what to say or do, he reaches for you again, but you dodge his hand and brush past him back into the castle.

You get Solomon, the only one who won’t ask questions, to switch rooms with you. (Luke is thrilled; teaching him to play gin rummy actually cheers you up a little.)

For a few weeks, you and Asmodeus pass each other in the House without speaking.  Then, one evening, there’s a knock on your door and Asmo slides into your room.

He looks….well, not awful; he could never look awful. But the glow is gone from his skin and, unless you’re mistaken, he hasn’t bothered doing his hair. He looks like he’s missed some sleep.

You look up from your homework and watch him. Silently. It’s not your job to fill the silence anymore.

More than most of them, Asmo despises being vulnerable. But it’s fix this or not, and the pact is pushing him to be on good terms. At least, he blames the pact. It’s easier than acknowledging how much the weeks of silence have worn on him. How awful it was watching you walk to class with Mammon instead of him. 

And no matter what, he values honesty in his relationships, no matter what kind of relationship. So he would be honest.

“I don’t know,” he says quietly.

Lean back in your chair, hands folded. Waiting.

“I don’t know….if that’s who I am. Maybe it is.”

“Why are you here, Asmo? What do you want?”

“I want you to stop ignoring me!”

Steady face. “I spent too many years having someone talk to me the way you spoke to your brother. The rest of it - the gossip, the side comments, the cattiness…. it’s not your best side. In fact, it’s pretty unattractive when it’s mean, but I could handle it. But I can’t handle cruelty. I don’t want to be around it anymore.”

A pause. “What is my best side then?”

Disgusted, you chuck a pen in his direction. “Fuck’s sake, Asmo. Get out.”

“No! Not, not that. If that’s my bad side, the **unattractive** part, then what’s the other half?”

You search his face, but he doesn’t seem to be fishing for compliments. If anything, he looks….lost. Confused. And you wonder if anyone’s ever said anything to him, good or bad, about who he was; not what he looked like or how he fucked. 

It’s not your responsibility to psychoanalyze a demon, you think to yourself. But you’re not someone to walk away. You wonder how it’s possible for someone to be thousands of years old, and know less about themselves than you know about yourself in just a few decades. And you have nothing to lose by being kind.

“You can be wonderfully kind, Asmo, and generous. You want to see the beauty in everyone and everything. As nasty as you can be with it, I’ll give you points for honesty. You connect with people, and the times you’re actually genuinely interested in them is….charming.”

He’s silent for a few minutes. Then he nods, as if he’s made a decision. “Okay. Tomorrow, after RAD, do you want to go for bubble tea?” At your confusion, he just smiles and continues, “It’s like skin care, isn’t it? Attractiveness requires effort, darling, until it becomes habit. If I want to be attractive inside as well as out, I’ll have to practice the good things, so they outweigh the bad. I can’t do that alone. I need a practice partner who won’t tolerate failure, right? At least until it’s habit.”

You feel your entire brain have to reboot before you can give a coherent response. 

“Tomorrow. One hour. I have papers due.” You wait until he leaves your room before you smile.

Beelzebub

Probably the best choice for this MC.

The most emotionally intelligent of his brothers.

Also the most sincerely kind and gentle.

But also, like Satan, prone to sudden outbursts and rages. They’re all food-related (or, rather, lack-of-food-related), but they’re there.

A smart MC always carries snacks while dating Beel. Phone, wallet, keys, fried bat wings.

Strangely, though, the food-induced rages don’t really bother you. It’s not anger, really, and it’s never once been directed at you. And, unlike back in the human world, there’s a concrete way to help: feed him.

Today you have a whole backpack full of snacks.

You’re with Belphie, watching one of Beel’s games at RAD.

(You’re not sure Belphie wants to be there, but you’re not allowed out alone, and Belphie decided to take you - keep you safe and support his brother. Two birds, one Belphie.)

Belphie tends to nap against your shoulder any time the ref goes to make a call, but he’s somehow always awake to clap for his brother. 

(You stand on your chair and cheer, but that’s you.)

The game is a close one; double overtime. Even Belphie is too tense to sleep towards the end.

And at the end of double overtime, Beel manages the single extra goal that results in victory.

You cheer yourself hoarse for your demon boyfriend.

The whole stadium is crazy, so you hang back and wait. Belphie hates crowds and you’re not keen on them yourself. It’s going to take awhile for Beel to make it through the crowd to you anyway.

You’re standing in the aisle, scrolling through your phone, when suddenly there’s a loud shout and arms wrap around you from behind and lift you up.

You gasp, and your scream strangles in your throat so what comes out of you is nothing more than a squeak. Your phone goes flying.

You’re frozen for a moment as panic surges. You want to fight and you’re fighting your own brain to push the panic into your limbs so you can fight for yourself.

You vaguely feel a tugging and you hear someone - Belphie? - insisting that you be put down and then your feet are on the ground but there’s no such thing as your legs and you start to fall before the same arms help you gently sit. The ground is gross, but you’ll only care about the damage to your skirt later.

Everything is fuzzy and confusing; you’re not even sure of what you’re looking at until your vision is filled with blue and violet.

You know that swirl of color. That’s a SAFE color, and you start feeling your poor brain start to work again.

You blink into your boyfriend’s blue-violet eyes; you realize he’s cupping your face with his hands and the weird underwater noises start to sound like his voice. You realize, very belatedly, that what probably happened was Beel lifting you up in a victory hug.

“M’okay,” you say, but it sounds robotic. It takes a few more seconds - you don’t know how many - for all of your senses and brain to actually begin working in sync again. You start hearing the sounds of the crowd departing the stadium, and you hear Beel continuing to say your name and trying to get you to answer questions. You almost smile; but smiling wouldn’t make any sense.

“I’m okay,” you say, and you must sound a little more convincing this time because Beel looks relieved. He shoots a few more questions at you, and you realize they’re the kinds of questions people get asked when someone thinks they have a concussion or head trauma.

Your answers satisfy him, so Beel helps you to your feet. 

“What was that?” He asks. “Low blood sugar? Are you hungry?”

You have to smile at his very-typical diagnosis. A little sugar wouldn’t hurt, though. For some reason, eating grounds you after something like this. You dig a chocolate bar out of your Backpack of Snacks (Snackpack?) and hand the rest to him.

He impatiently takes a bag of chips out of it but doesn’t open it. He looks at you expectantly and you realize he won’t eat until you do. So you take a bite of the chocolate and he looks more relieved.

“So what the fuck WAS that?” Belphie asks as the three of you move towards the exit.

“Later.” You haven’t yet found a reason to really tell Beel (and, by extension, Belphegor) about everything. You do later that night. 

Beel swears he’ll never surprise you like that again. He’s a lot more cautious about touching you for a few days, but eventually things go back to normal between you.

Belphegor

Author note: Dude fucking murdered you, deliberately, in cold blood, and taunted you for your gentleness and desire to help as you died. But let’s say you can get past that - or try to. Probably the second-worst choice, after Satan, for this reason.

You started dating Belphie for the strangest reason: you could trash-talk the shit out of him.

He kept trying to be around you after you made the pact (which, let’s face it, you made so you could MAKE SURE he never hurt you again). Until, after politely dodging him wasn’t working, you told him to take his emo-boy routine and fuck off somewhere else.

You flinched, waiting for retaliation, but he just blinked at you and told you to stop being a brat.

And he was smiling.

But it wasn’t a mean smile - it was a smile that shared the joke.

Your lips quivered into a returning smile, and you threw another insult at him.

He topped it, and hurled one back.

Before you knew it, the two of you were screaming obscenities at each other in the middle of the common room and laughing like hyenas.

For some reason, Belphie calling you a dumb bitch wasn’t an insult. It was a mark of endearment. And it didn’t hurt your feelings or make you afraid.

It was empowering to call him a dickhead if he did something you didn’t like and have him simply laugh and amend his behavior. Nothing bothered him.

He didn’t move quickly; in fact he didn’t move at all if he could help it.

But you would remember, sometimes, the way his hands felt on your throat, or how cold his eyes had been. And you couldn’t say it was a momentary madness, because he’d planned it. He’d been imprisoned because he wanted to kill humanity.

You put it out of your mind. It was something you were good at, after all.

Until the two of you sat down to watch a movie one evening. A simple plot hole sparked a discussion that wound up being….not an argument, but definitely a difference of opinion.

As usual, insults were flying fast and furious when suddenly Belphie laughed and smacked you with his pillow.

It wasn’t an angry move, and it wasn’t hard enough to hurt. It wasn’t a hard blow at all! But the surprise had you falling back on the couch. And the fear had you curling into a ball, arms wrapped around your head protectively, legs curled up to guard your middle.

There is dead silence.

“Hey, Brat?” Belphie asks. When you don’t answer, he calls your name instead.

You slowly, very slowly, begin to uncurl yourself from your position. It takes time for the residual fear to leave, but enough is gone to leave room for embarrassment. 

“Sorry,” you mutter. 

“I get it,” is the answer.

Cue awkward silence.

“I figured you were still afraid of me.”

“I’m not!” When he just stares blandly at you, you sigh. “Okay, a little. If you wanted to hurt me - again - you’ve had a ton of opportunities. So I don’t think you want to. But…..”

“It’s a hard thing to get over.”

“Yeah. And not just you.” Hesitantly, you start to tell him. You want to just give him the basics, but once you start talking, you can’t seem to stop. He doesn’t interrupt, barely seems to blink, just watches you. A blank vessel to help you empty the poison that fills you sometimes.

You see his jaw tighten as you go on, but you know the anger isn’t at you.

When you finish, he’s silent for a few moments. Then he gathers you up to him. “I’ll never hurt you,” he says.

You look up at him with the same bland look he gave you a moment ago.

“Again,” he amends. “I’ll never hurt you again.”

You let out a watery laugh and he hugs you a bit tighter.

“You’re still a brat, though.”

[tomatograter]

i saw on twitter you reread the epilogues! would it be okay to ask how you feel about them now on a reread? have any of your opinions changed, for better or worse? i've really loved the art and analysis that's come out of your tumblr/twitter ever since they dropped, so i'm excited to know what you think. i couldn't get a great read on your feelings based on your tweets so that is why i am asking directly, hope that's okay!

Not much changed. That wasn't the first time I attempted to re-read the HS Epilogues, I've gone through bits and pieces of them a handful of times in the years since the original release and it's an effort I make to remind myself of events that happened because I tend to... forget. I don't mind reading books, I like those! In the hellscape that was 2020, according to my StoryGraph stats (great new site, by the way, stop using the Amazon-clawed Goodreads and transfer your account to a black led effort to diversify the current literary environment) I managed to read about 22 new books. Not too shabby for a total dumbass. The problem isn't that it was text-only, they just sort of mush together as a nondescript mass in my brain given enough time. 

The first time I finished the epilogues, I said they felt like a purposefully unfinished text, but one at odds with itself (though in much more undercooked words, as I had just spent the last 2 days busy reading it) and it's an impression that has deepened since.

I do not mean anything like "Meat contradicts Candy" with this, that'd be foolish; the dissonance is the fucking point. I know how dubiously canon alternate universes work and I *enjoy* them, otherwise I wouldn't have wasted years in the circus ring that is accompanying Big 2 Comics in the hopes they'd do anything genuinely cool with that concept. Instead, I find there is a general problem in terms of internal cohesion. The Epilogues want to be a lot of things at once, be it a continuation, an expulsion, a deliberate attempt at public scorn, a somewhat genuine play in heartfelt analysis, a reinvention of what came before, or a loaded gun pointed straight at one's own foot. And in the process, they end up undermining the impact of their own strongest moments. 

I don't like the Epilogues. Their lukewarm indecisiveness makes for a poor reading experience that needs far more asides, warnings and 'before you read it-'s than the book is worth. It is a text with a particularly distasteful, juvenile fixation in the show and repeated humiliation of sexual abuse victims, and manages to be more regressive about its female characters and what roles they're allowed to play than Homestuck, the 2009 Comic, ever was. And that was disappointing. It's as if the coming of adulthood must sort them into one of two categories: "wanted, desirable" woman or "unwanted, undesirable" woman. It also interacts with trans women in a really shitty way. It is a text married to traditional white-centric politics that makes an attempt to challenge them from that same perspective but falls flat on its face by pulling big moves like "making the alien-Hitler analogue character fight for a rebellion meant to represent racial liberation" and other unsavory choices. But I don't need to like the Epilogues to acknowledge them as both a text that exists and works within a shared universe. 

They're pretty fertile ground for dissection and analysis. I think it's interesting how they accentuate some of the worst facets of the HS "canon"/"lore" by being incredibly blatant about their connection to stuff like the Skaianet archives, how they play with Fanservice and Fan Expectation by dedicating so much time to solving or sinking ‘The Davekat Equation’, and how they elaborate on complex facets of old characters. It's a text that acknowledges the existence of fanfiction and popular fanworks on a direct quotable basis (like "Can't sleep without holding onto a motherfucker" of 4Chords fame) as well as Fan Movements that preceded it (the also Gamzee-based "Free the clown!" Rush from 2016) it's intrinsically interactive, and that's not something you can say about a lot of media. The olive branch beckons.

I don't recommend the Epilogues. To me, the Epilogues portray glimpses of two potential, but not absolute, futures soaked in limiting metadoomer pessimism, best appreciated as "what-if" tales taking on the questions of serialization, post-myth, the self-cannibalistic nature of franchises, the abstractness of Canon, the absurdity of fanon, and why fascists like milk. The Epilogues are also not going to magically disappear or un-exist from our collective recollection anytime soon, or… ever. These statements coexist. 

I think complex feelings towards media are best put to use in the making of your own art, which is unsurprising, given the fact I'm an artist and a fag, & I've personally enjoyed creating things that interact and rebuke aspects of that text. I've also been graced with the existence of wonderful art from others doing the same, may that be in the form of illustrations, written epics, analyses, comics, videos, songs, the collective transgendering of the series' main character, and all sorts of harder-to-categorize community creations. You can make the best of it. That's my favorite part of the whole ordeal, and one I don't regret one bit. 

I hope this is an appropriately satisfying answer on this subject, and if it isn't, well, here's the thing; you can write a better one.

[girlgrouptrash101]

Cooking with Loona

Request: "i know requests are closed and i’m reallyyy sorryyyy 🥺 i’ve been going through a lot and i just didn’t have time and didn’t feel right enough to ask this: maybe cooking with loona??"

A/N: to the anonnie that requested this, i hope you're feeling better and ily ❤️❤️

(had to put a keep reading tab cuz the post was too damn long f)

- C

Heejin:

we’ve all seen the cement brownie she tried to give to chuu on her birthday vlive..... yeah....

she always skips like half the steps when she’s following recipes and then gets confused when her food doesn’t turn out the same like,, Heejins sweetie pleASE-

lowkey can’t cook but she thinks she can because you hype her up too much

like she will serve you a dish that will somehow be both burnt and cold at the same time and you still tell her she did amazing because it makes her so happy and that’s all that matters

your guys’ favourite thing to make together is probably cupcakes or cakes

because you get to bake them and Heejin gets to decorate them, and they always end up looking and tasting immaculate

everything in your guys’ relationship works better when you’re together, you two simply complete each other :’)

Hyunjin:

not only does she make the most kickass bread but girlie really is a chef of all cuisines too

you still don’t know how or where she even learned to cook so well but you aren’t complaining at all

whatever you feel like eating, Hyunjin knows how to cook it to absolute perfection and she always offers to teach you how to make your favourite dishes

you two also have matching yellow cat aprons uwu

the kind of girl to either kick you out of her kitchen for distracting her while she’s making a meal or else back hug you and help you stir a bowl with her hand over yours all romantically

it literally just depends what mood she’s in at that very moment

highkey loves loves loves cooking for you and surprising you with dinner after a long day, because her favourite thing to do is put a smile on your face :D

Haseul:

starts off really strong and sticks to the recipe... but then her mind wanders and she's like,,, well,,, what if i add this????

and you're like haseul,,,, please don't put chilli peppers in Kim lips birthday cake, i promise she can do without them,,,,,

she finds cooking in the dorms a bit stressful, doing her best to feed the hungry members after a long day of practice

so cooking with you tends to be a much more therapeutic experience, just you two, a bit of music and some tasty treats

but she of course brings back plenty of wonderful bakes for her members to enjoy too, they're literally her babies she is can't just let them STARVE 😔🙄😢

lowkey pretends she's having trouble stirring so you'll reach from the back and help her with the spoon all romantically

miss haseul you are not slick we SEE YOU

Yeojin:

yes she did in fact bejewel her cookery book

"yeojin... I can't even read the recipes, there's too much glitter!!"

"Well Y/N, sometimes, sacrifices have to be made in the name of beauty."

said sacrifices are usually cupcakes and cakes that don't rise, burnt food or just complete mush that doesn't even look like food

however, when yeojin is fully dedicated she can pack a mean lunch, sometimes she makes them for you when you're going off to school/work, and she always makes sure presentation is A+

prefers to just go out to cafes/restaurants on dates rather than cook

but that doesn't mean there haven't been times where you and her have been in the kitchen at 2am, trying to make a gigantic cake for you and all her members to share 😌

Vivi:

has the most peaceful, lofi cooking playlist ever

you two work in harmony, always helping one another but never tripping over the other in the kitchen

it's so harmonious it's like.... y'all were meant to be or sumn idk 😳😳😳

however if u try to eat any batter she will smack ur hand and be like no ⛔ that is for LATER hfhdhd

her hair always gets tied up in the cutest little bun when she's baking, and that along with her fairy apron makes her look like an actual princess

she also LOVES cooking/teaching you how to make her favourite foods from Hong Kong that she'd always make with her mom

those meals always help her when she's homesick, and with you by her side make her feel like she's not alone 🥺

Kim Lip:

CEO of pretending she has everything under control when in reality she has absolutely no idea what’s going on

“Uhhh Jungeun, is something burning?” “NOPE NOPE IDK WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT HA HA HA........”

wants to put your apron on you every time but she’s always way too shy to ask so she just resorts to back-hugging you until you get the hint and let her tie a cute little bow behind your back with the apron string hehe

makes pretty decent food when she’s not flailing around and panicking over a single grain of rice that escaped from the pot or something

however she refuses to admit when she messes up in the kitchen

like she could burn something to a crisp or use completely the wrong ingredients but she’d still eat every bite just to prove she’s the best cook in the house

if your food sucks she will tell you to your face, followed by a kiss so you forget about the fact she just roasted your cooking skills lol

Jinsoul:

Jinsoul gives off Hawaiian shirt drunk uncle at the family barbecue vibes who won't let anyone near the steaks

and you're like,, Jinsoul do you even know what you're doing????????? to which she responds - "food, heat, it's cooking. isn't that all i need to know?"

chaotic but refuses to acknowledge the chaos she causes in the kitchen

so when you have baking dates u have to keep such a close eye on her to make sure she isn't going to poison anyone with her creations

once she gets into it tho, she's grooving around the kitchen in her little robot apron, dancing to Christmas songs when it's not even Christmas and just 10/10 having a blast

not really the biggest fan of cooking but she knows you are, and since you help her build her gundams she does like to try and help our properly in the kitchen when she can

perhaps Jinsoul best girl???? perhaps??????

Choerry:

hello this sunshine absolutely LOVES baking, especially for others because putting a smile on someone's face is her main goal in life

she loves decorating with icing too, her go to patterns are smiley faces, flowers and the sun!

her playlists are always so upbeat, the two of you end up bouncing around the kitchen singing at the top of your lungs as you work

LOVES LOVES LOOOOOVES backhugs, especially recieving them,,, it makes her feel all worm and mushy inside hehe

also likes to kiss face icing off of your face, just to have an excuse to give you as many little pecks as she so desires

choerry always makes you a birthday cake every year, and she puts so much work into it, it absolutely melts your heart

plus it makes her happy to see you eating well and having a good time, she truly just is the biggest sweetheart :']

Yves:

she always says yes whenever you ask her to cook with you, but only because she just wants to flirt with you for an hour

"why do we need to make all this food, when the real snack is right in front of me? 😏"

cooking with you actually really does make her happy though, she loves that she can be so domestic with you, it's such an amazing break from her hectic life

also lowkey makes her feel like you're a married couple... and you best believe Yves can't wait to wife you up

she doesn't suck at cooking, but has often times gotten,,, ahem,,,, somewhat distracted and has prioritized making out with you against the kitchen counter rather than how long the food has been cooking, which ends up in a lot of burnt meals

baking with her is really a time, and has more than once ended in a very messy food fight because Yves wouldn't stop smearing icing all over your face 💔

her specialty is dialing the local takeaway and ordering food instead ✨ okay Yves Ramsey go off ✨

Chuu:

this baby girl is just torn between actually wanting to cook or just asking you to cook with her so she can get affection from you (as if she doesn't get that anyway smh)

backhugs except she won't let go

whenever she's making something she calls you over and she's like "Y/N is this okay?" and always asks for kisses as a reward for doing good

will feed you every single ingredient no questions asked

she loves surprising you with meals on very random occasions though, for example that one time she cooked your favourite food because it was the anniversary of the first time she got sick while dating you

she's actually a pretty good cook when she puts her mind to it though, she loves making good food that'll cheer people up when they really need it

btw you will be forced to wear matching aprons and they will be the pinkest, loudest and sparkliest ones that she can get her hands on ✨

Go Won:

have the fire service on speed dial before you even think about cooking with gowon omg

you literally also need to have indestructible tastebuds because she WILL destroy them

her speciality is starting fires and combining foods that were NEVER. EVER. E V E R. meant to be combined 😭😭

"babe come try this dish!! it's ramen mixed with coca cola, jelly and vegetable soup!!! it tastes GREAT trust me"

at the end of the day you just leave her be in the kitchen because at least she's having fun LMAO

(just always have a fire hydrant by your side okay??? she set the loona dorm on fire making chicken nuggets once...)

despite all her chaos, she somehow always produces something edible at the end and.... sometimes it actually tastes good too???

Olivia Hye:

lets you do all the work cuz she's worried she "might mess it up" when in reality she just wants to order takeout and cuddle instead smhhh

will probably follow you around the kitchen or rest her head on your shoulder while you do all the cooking, because this tsundere is secretly the biggest softie for you

she's actually a decent chef when she's motivated to help though

like she even put together a cooking playlist for you guys - which she very shyly revealed to you one time, a slight blush on her cheeks as she played the songs for you

cuz miss olhye is very much a romantic, she just doesn't have the confidence to show you all that yet hehe

her favourite is making desserts because well,,,, she gets to eat the batter and also gets tasty treats at the end

10/10 cooking backhugs also 🖐️😌

[smmahamazing]

There's been a pep in my step today because......

It's MirSan day!!!!!

I'm so excited to finally share with you guys a fic that I've been working on since last October. It's gone through some big changes, but I'm proud of it. And EVEN BETTER is that I've teamed up with @eliza-faust-diary, who has created an amazing piece of art to go with it! I'm itching for y'all to see it! So I'll get off my soapbox LOL. Make sure you guys check out the MirSan Collection on AO3 and everything posted from @dayofmirsan​! 

Thanks to the mods for setting this up!

Summary: Miroku Kibe has been irrevocably in love with Sango Tanaka for years. His fear of rejection has always kept him from attempting to get to know her, but when he finds her all by herself at an engagement party, will Miroku take the chance he's given and talk to her?

Read on AO3 and FFN

"So anyways, we didn't find our way back home until the next morning, and we still never found her shoes again!"

Miroku attempted a heartfelt chuckle. Apparently, the last bit of her story was supposed to be some big finale, or a play on words, or an inside joke that he wasn't part of? To be honest, he hadn't been paying all that much attention. He had been trying to find a way out of the conversation for quite a while, but the girl in question ('Is her name Yuki? No….Yuca…..or is that the vegetable?') seemed to talk a mile a minute. And there had been no shortage of stories to tell, much to his disappointment.

"Well…" Miroku stuttered, trying to spit out a sentence that didn't involve trying to figure out her name. "I think I see….I'm just gonna….head over there."

It was probably the flimsiest getway he had ever used on a girl, but his brain felt like mush after sitting through too many of her idiotic stories, and Miroku desperately needed to isolate himself. There was only so much socializing he could do in one night and he didn't want to use up all the energy he could spare for some random girl he cared nothing for.

Miroku walked over to the kitchen and pulled out a fresh beer from the fridge. After taking a generous first sip, he lightly leaned back on the countertop and looked out into the living room. The kitchen was designed with an open room concept, with only a small bar separating it from the living room. From his spot, Miroku could oversee the rest of the party guests mingling throughout the apartment.

He recognized a couple of faces that he might have seen around campus over the years, but for the most part found himself amongst a crowd of people of which he didn't have an inkling of who they were. It didn't bother him much though, not when he could hear Kagome's boisterous laugh from across the living room. He let a small smirk don his face as he once again raised his drink to his lips for another sip.

Today was Inuyasha and Kagome's engagement party.

Miroku normally didn't go to shindigs like this, but over the past couple of years, Kagome had grown to be a very good friend of Miroku's, and he wanted to support her in any way he knew how. That, and Inuyasha practically begged him to come.

Engagement parties were not Inuyasha's thing. Parties in general would tend to put him in a foul mood, and Inuyasha did whatever he could to worm his way out of attending one. But all Kagome needed to do was give Inuyasha those big, soulful, puppy dog eyes of hers, and the next thing you know, he was front and center for the biggest event of the year - until the wedding that is.

Inuyasha didn't have many friends, at least not friends that he could proudly call his own. Most of the partygoers were mutual friends of both Inuyasha and Kagome, but Miroku knew that they only came to be on friendly terms with the surly hanyou because of his bubbly, outgoing fianceé.

Miroku's friendship with Inuyasha also fell under that category. He met Kagome during his  internship at her family's shrine a few years ago - even though they all went to high school together - where they became fast friends due to Kagome's friendly personality, which of course led him to also becoming friends with her boyfriend-now-fiance - but Miroku could say with confidence that his friendship with Inuyasha had grown to something bigger than just being acquainted through Kagome.

Which was still a wild concept for Miroku to grasp. Miroku wouldn't say he was introverted, but he mostly liked to keep to himself. He was an only child to a set of parents who died when he was young, putting him under the guardianship of an old family friend - Mushin. Mushin did his best to raise Miroku, but he didn't really have a great idea about what it was like to raise a child, and Miroku learned early on it was better to grow up than just acting like the child he was.

In the end, Miroku had a hard time relating to most kids his age. He didn't watch the same type of television shows, play games, or collect action figures like the boys he grew up around. Others found him...intimidating, which led to a lonely childhood. But as the years went by, Miroku found that he began to care less and less about the whispered gossip that followed him as he grew up.

Miroku knew Inuyasha also had a rough childhood; perhaps that was the reason they gravitated to each other so easily. Not that they talked about it all that much. That was the great thing about their friendship, it didn't require a lot of talking.

His friendship with Kagome gave him enough of that. That girl really knew how to talk.

Miroku was shaken from his thoughts as Inuyasha sidled up to him, jabbing his fist into his shoulder lightly before leaning up against the countertop beside Miroku, his own drink in hand. "So, have you grown the balls to go talk to her yet, or are you gonna hide in my kitchen all night?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, my friend," Miroku answered, keeping his eye contact on anything but the hanyou beside him.

Because it was a lie. Miroku knew exactly who Inuyasha was talking about.

Sango Tanaka.

Miroku had been in love with her for years. Practically all his life if he was dramatic about it.

Miroku first met Sango when they were in high school. She was a "rough and tough" type of girl, known to play a variety of sports, depending on the season, and trained in a number of martial arts. Her family came from a long line of tajiya, and that was a title she wore proudly. Sango was loud, and opinionated, and didn't take anyone's shit. She never failed to go after what she wanted, and she gave it her all every time.

She was everything Miroku wasn't, and funnily enough, she was everything Miroku ever could have wanted.

He still remembered the first time he had ever laid eyes on Sango. It was the first day of high school, and Miroku had just walked into his history classroom. There had still been ten minutes before the bell was scheduled to ring, signaling everyone to start making their way to their first class of the day. Miroku always liked getting to his classes as early as possible so he could get the best seat.

When he was in middle school, he would always be the first one to enter the classroom, but not this day. Sitting in the front row was a girl, enraptured in a small paperback book. Long, velvet brown hair that went halfway down her back. She wore a faded pink long sleeved shirt that accentuated the natural muscle of her arms, and when she turned around to stare him down with those hazel eyes, Miroku was sure he stopped breathing. 

She was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Miroku didn’t know how long he had been standing there staring at her. It wasn't until she gave him a simple greeting that Miroku snapped himself back to reality. He responded with a small greeting of his own, choosing the seat right behind her. At that moment, Miroku knew she'd be the only girl for him.

They spent the rest of the time together in companionable silence. Soon enough, the bell rang and slowly students started trickling into the classroom. She didn't seem to have any friends in this class, which was all the better for Miroku. It felt like he could have a part of her without having to share with anyone else.

She didn't speak to him again after that first day. Several times, Miroku had attempted to work up the courage to talk to her - about anything - but he chickened out every time, and his fear of her reaction to him only grew worse as the years went by. The more he looked on at her life from the background, the more intimidated he was of her. Yet, it only made his fondness for her grow.

She was spunky. By the time they ended their first year, it was known throughout the school that Sango was not a girl to be trifled with. The biggest factor in that perception of her was the fight that year between Sango and another girl - Aki was her name? The girl in question was a real piece of work; generally thought of as "popular", but really, that was just a code word for the term "bitch". Miroku hadn't been there to personally see it, but the rumor was that Aki had been bullying another girl - a transfer from a religious school in the next city over - and ended up in a fist fight with Sango. Aki threw the first punch, but Sango made sure she'd throw the last, while simultaneously making sure everybody understood that bullies at Hiro High wouldn't be tolerated. 

She was given a week's suspension for her part in the fight, but she ended up making a life-long friend in the girl she had defended, Kagome Higurashi. They were inseparable ever since.

Sango's sense of loyalty was both something that Miroku had a hard time grasping, yet something he desperately wanted from her. Despite his sometimes asocial mannerisms, Miroku hadn't been a loner in high school; he had his own small group of friends he would sit with at lunch, or work with on group projects. The term 'friends', though, seemed a little much to define the relationships he held with those people. 'Acquaintance' was a better term. They might all shoot the shit together every now and then, but he never let his guard down around any of them.

The Miroku Kibe that they knew was a fake, hidden by a well tailored mask. His friends were nice enough people, and it wasn't lost to Miroku that they trusted him enough with some of their deeper thoughts. But no matter how much he wanted to let them into his own heart, he always managed to pull back at the last second, placing another wall between himself and the world.

Miroku fantasized about letting Sango be the person to break all his walls. He was certain if anyone could do it, she could.

But there had never been a chance for them, Miroku's own cowardice made sure of that. Instead, he sat on the sidelines, watching Sango and Kagome grow into close friends. Eventually their group of two turned into three when Kagome introduced Sango to Inuyasha. He was the "new kid" their second year of high school, and Kagome had been tasked with showing him around and making sure he felt "welcomed".

Of course 'welcomed' meant showing the new kid where the lunchroom was and where the best junk food machines were, not getting caught making out in the janitors closet, but to each his own, you know?

And yet, here he was, almost eight years since their sophomore year, attending Kagome and Inuyasha's engagement party. Honestly, it had been of no surprise to Miroku to hear about their engagement. Inuyasha and Kagome were your textbook definition of "high school sweethearts". If Miroku believed in the whole "soulmate thing",  he’d describe them as just that. They were polar opposites, like fire and ice. Inuyasha, the grumpy hanyou, and Kagome, the sweet girl next door.

Sometimes, Miroku could just gag from the cuteness of it all.

The couple that had been conversing with Kagome in the living room finally moved away, giving both Miroku and Inuyasha a clear view of the sliding glass doors that led out to the patio. Standing by herself, gazing out at the city below, was Sango. She was wearing a striped magenta shirt, the same color she wore on the day they met, with a pair of forest green pants. Even without all glittery jewelry or immaculate dresses, Sango was still the most beautiful woman at the party.

It was the perfect opportunity for Miroku to finally talk to her. All he had to do was walk up to her and start a conversation; nothing flashy or flirty, just small talk. He'd been doing it all night with random girls who felt the need to invade his personal space, so this should be easy.

The golf ball lodged in Miroku's throat said otherwise, as Miroku nearly choked on the beer he was drinking at the mere thought of trying to talk to her.

"Dude, you're being pathetic," Inuyasha said. Miroku finally turned his way to glare at him, but Inuyasha merely scoffed at him. "Don't give me that look, you haven't heard a single word I've said, too busy in la la land thinking about Sango."

"And how long did it take for you to propose to Kagome?" Miroku tried to circumvent the conversation away from himself, but Inuyasha was far too stubborn to let Miroku off the hook.

"Nuh uh, don't even try and compare us, it's not the same thing and you know it."

"Inuyasha - "

"Look, we both know that Sango is going to end up being Kagome's maid of honor, and if I'm being honest, you're the only person I would trust to be my best man."

Miroku was taken aback by Inuyasha's statement. Being a best man….It was a role he didn't think he'd ever really get to play. He never let anyone in deep enough for their first thought of the person who would play a pivotal role in something as important as a wedding to be Miroku. Inuyasha refused to look at him now, obviously embarrassed at such a display of emotion.

"I...would be honored to be your best man, Inuyasha," Miroku said slowly, almost in a hushed whisper. This felt like such an intimate moment for them, and Miroku did not wish to share it with anyone who could easily eavesdrop on their conversation.

"Keh, whatever." Miroku wanted to chuckle at his abrupt change in demeanor. Perhaps this is why they could work so well as friends; while others might be put off by Inuyasha's rough temperament, Miroku was always able to let his constant mood swings slide right off his shoulders.

"Anyways, with that being said, you and Sango will have to see a lot of each other to help out with this damn wedding, and I need you with your best foot forward," Inuyasha stepped around him to grab two unopened beers from the fridge. He took the half empty drink currently in Miroku's hand and replaced them with the unopened beers.

"Don't fuck this up," was the last thing Inuyasha told him as he turned away from him to walk back towards Kagome, leaving Miroku to stand by himself in the kitchen holding two cold beer cans. The cans began to sweat from the change in temperature, causing Miroku to grip them tighter so that they wouldn't slide right out of his hands.

Miroku could feel his body start to perspire. He could only hope that the purple t-shirt he donned for tonight would be dark enough to hide the sweat stains that he was sure would start to show up under his arms. Miroku swallowed the lump in his throat, and after a deep inhale and exhale, started making his way across the apartment.

'Hello, my name is Miroku? And you are?' No, that's too forthcoming, he could be more suave then that. 'Ahh Sango. It's such a beautiful night out, would you care for a beverage?' Ugh, somehow that almost sounded worse than the first one. 'I love you, please bear my children!'

Miroku stopped just before the sliding glass doors and mentally slapped himself. He needed to keep his wits about him! Miroku was a handsome, cool guy; talking to a beautiful woman like Sango should be as normal as breathing. He could strike up a simple conversation with her, right?

For Inuyasha. And Kagome.

And for himself.

Miroku could feel and see the slight trembling of his hand as he used the two pointer fingers of his right hand to slide the door open. It was a cool night, and Miroku was greeted with a crisp breeze. He greedily inhaled the clean breeze that carried wafts of patchouli to his nose. Gods, she was his favourite scent.

Sango didn't seem to hear him enter the balcony, or at least if she did she had yet to make a move to see who was disturbing her peace.

'Oh god, what if she wants to be alone and I'm just here to annoy her?' 

Miroku shoved his negative thoughts aside, determined to give her a good impression of himself. He stretched his neck from one side to the other, cracking it a little to release some tension as he took that one last step towards her, his back straightened but not locked up, his head held high in an attempt to look calm and aloof.

And then he fell.

He fell. 

A weirdly high pitched yelp erupted from his throat as his feet twitched and scuffed across the cement floor of the balcony, pushing his body too far forward for his feet to catch. What sort of loser trips over his own feet? All he had to do was take one small step and he would have been golden. Instead, he was slowly tripping over his own two fucking feet, still keeping hold of the two beer cans, as if their presence was actually important in the grand scheme of things. The only thing that could have been worse would be to face plant right on her bountiful breasts.

Which he fucking did.

Miroku was sure he had never been so embarrassed in his entire life. It wasn't as if Miroku hadn't dreamt of this moment - nuzzling his nose in the warmth of her soft skin, peppering her bare chest with tiny butterfly kisses. But this wasn't a dream, it was reality, and Miroku's reality included him basically motorboating a woman who he didn't know personally and didn't know him on a very public apartment balcony.

'Just fucking kill me now…'

Miroku tried to lift himself up as quickly as he could. He really did, but for some reason he just couldn't let go of those damn beer cans. He clutched them as if they were his lifelines, putting more and more of his full weight on the woman under him. Luckily, due to all her training, Sango could probably lift two of Miroku, and was able to help steady him.

"Oh my gosh, are you okay?!" She exclaimed, unfazed by where his head had been and more concerned about his own wellbeing. She had taken his face in both hands, trying to assess if he had taken any injuries.

"Uhhh…" Say something you fool! Miroku's head felt fuzzy with her face so close to his. He tried to tell her he was okay, perhaps impart a most fervent apology on landed directly on her chest, but he couldn't seem to form a coherent sentence no matter how hard he thought about it. He had never been so close to her to take in the gold flecks that made her cinnamon eyes sparkle, and he was quickly becoming lost in them. 

Instead, he belted out a cracked, "Beer?", still holding on to those damn cans.

Miroku hoped the ground would open up a portal to hell and drag him into it at this point. There was no way she'd want anything to do with him after this fiasco of a first encounter. Well, technically their second encounter. Either way, Miroku was fucked.

He thought that anyways, until he heard her chuckle, her lips turned up in a soft smile. She acted like he said something funny, not in a 'I'm laughing at you' way, but a 'wow you're funny' kind of way.

It was like music to his ears.

"A beer sounds good right now, thank you," she said, taking one of the beer cans out of his hands once he was steady on his feet. Miroku couldn't believe it, he was doing it! He was actually having a conversation with her! She wasn't rejecting him and accepted his offering of having a drink together! Even though he made a total fool of himself, nearly launching himself and the drinks off the balcony…..launching the drinks….The drinks….

THE DRINKS.

"Wait, Sango don't - "

It was too late. Miroku had been too far in his own thoughts to think about the fact that he had shaken up the carbonated alcoholic beverages quite a bit during his tumble, and Sango had already flipped the tab into the aluminum can. The next few seconds felt like forever, played in slow motion. The can let out a faint hiss before a small geyser of beer exploded upward, the can continuing to overflow with foam. Sango let out a small shriek, covering her face as best she could as she became drenched in beer.

Miroku stood there, still as a statue, as he watched streams of beer slowly trickle down her face. Their movements had a soft quality to it, as if they were caressing the soft lines of her cheek, gliding down the line of her nose and outlining her plump lips.

It was downright cruel how turned on he could get in a situation that was probably embarrassing for Sango. He should be doing something, like running inside to grab her a towel or asking her if she was okay. Instead, he was staring - no, leering - at her like some kind of pervert.

The thought was enough to break Miroku from his thoughts. He had a reputation for being a lecher amongst the ladies, but that was a persona he didn't want associated with Sango. After all, she wasn't just any woman; she was someone he could see spending his life with. Which he actively did.

He lurched forward slightly, still unsure of exactly what he should be doing for her, but unwilling to just stand there. There was a small table with a couple of chairs pushed to the right side of the balcony. Miroku threw the arm that held his own beer in that direction, intending on setting it down to cover all his attention on her. Unfortunately, he wasn't paying enough attention to the can to make sure it was set on the table properly. 

The can slipped from his hands, slowly making its descent, past the edge of the table, and straight for the ground. 

Miroku barely heard the plonk of the can hitting the ground, nor the hissing that came right before the can exploded, twirling along the ground at their feet, covering them both with the sticky liquid.

In a feat that would have made the soccer team at their high school proud, Miroku used the side of his foot to kick the can straight through a gap in the bars of the balcony. The can continued to spew beer through the air as it made its descent onto an unsuspecting car parked on the opposite side of the street, the sickening crunch of the can cracking the windshield echoing off the walls of the buildings on either side of the road.

He didn't know what would have been worse, letting the can continue to douse them with beer or vandalize an automobile. Either way, he only hoped some God would have pity on him and allow the Earth to swallow him whole. 

Of course, he could never be so lucky.

"Oh my...I am so sorry, let me get you a towel!" He said, spinning in place and practically barrelling through the sliding glass door.

It seemed like no one else in the apartment had any clue what transpired outside, too busy with the jovial nature of celebrating the engagement of two young people in love. It gave Miroku a small bit of relief, knowing that Sango was free from the embarrassment that came with the snickers and stares of being laughed at. 

It wasn't enough to steady his shaking hands as he began rummaging through Kagome's kitchen cupboards, trying to find something big and deep enough to fill with water. Three cupboards in, Miroku found a large mixing bowl and began filling it with water, searching through more drawers to find the kitchen towels, practically grabbing the whole stack once he found them. Once he had everything, he carefully made his way through the crowd of people. By now, he started to receive a few weird looks from anyone who bothered to look towards him as he passed by, but no one tried to stop him or ask about what he was doing.

He ignored it all in favor of the woman standing outside. She was fiddling with the ends of her blouse that now clung to her form from the stickiness of the beer. He awkwardly pinched his knuckle before reaching for the door in an attempt to keep his eyes looking anywhere but her body. This was absolutely not the time for his philandering ways to make this woman hate him more than she probably does already. He could see the small movements of her shoulders as she shivered when a quick breeze hit her, and any lecherous thoughts he might have had drifted away as guilt began to constrict his chest.

This was obviously a sign that they were never meant to be. How could a sophisticated and beautiful woman like Sango be interested in a schmuck like Miroku? The man couldn't even do something as simple as handing her a can of beer, how was he supposed to take care of her?

Not that she'd want him to take care of her, or needed anyone to do so. She was strong, and smart, and so fucking talented; she could do anything she set her mind to. Miroku could only hope to be even half the person she was, and a woman like Sango didn't mingle with people as lame as Miroku.

He carefully made his way through the back door, immediately set the bowl of water and towels onto the small table sitting off to the side and pulled the chair out for Sango to sit in.

"I-I brought a bowl of warm water and some towels to wipe the beer off with. Here, you can sit here. If you want to anyways, or you can stand if that makes you feel more comfortable or…." Miroku turned his body away from hers, grimacing as his tongue continued to word vomit in front of her. He couldn't believe he was still finding new ways to completely embarrass himself in front of her.

But instead of a stern glare or a heated comment about him, he was greeted with a small but warm chuckle.

"Thank you," she smiled at him, taking the offered seat and one of the dry towels, submerging it into the water and wringing it out.

He couldn't stop from staring at her, watching the way the muscles in her hands grew taut as she squeezed the towel, or the way a few errant droplets of water would cascade down her arms as she rubbed the towel into her skin.

She was truly gorgeous. The setting sun made her positively glow, her freshly cleaned skin gleaming when the light hit it just right. She sighed contentedly as she continued to wash away the sticky substance, paying extra attention to her face and chest. Miroku pulled up the other chair and fumbled with one of the dry towels, keeping himself too busy to notice the way she ran the damp towel over her collarbones. The towel wasn't squeezed out as much this time around, and it was almost painful for Miroku to watch as several small rivulets of water ran down her shirt, molding around the tops of her breasts.

The sound of the water splashing as she dunked the towel back in acted like a slap to the face, reminding him he needed to keep his eyes to himself. Instead, he submerged his own dry towel halfway so that he could wipe off his own beer soaked skin.

"You seem familiar,"

Miroku paused. Despite the fact they were both sitting together, he hasn't expected her to want to talk with him. It was a question disguised as a statement, one that he wasn't quite sure how to answer. Not in a way that wouldn't make him seem like a stalker, anyways.

"I believe we went to the same high school,"

"You went to Hiro High, too? What a small world," she chuckled as she continued to stare at him. Her eyes widened slightly as a thought seemed to pass by the forefront on her mind. "Wait...didn't we have a class together?"

'Several,' was the first response to come to mind, but he didn't want to make it seem like he was keeping any sort of tabs on her over the years.

"Yes, I believe so. That's where I recognized Kagome when we first met,"

Miroku could feel himself beginning to sweat under her vigilant gaze. 

"History,"

A confused look sprawled across his face. "Come again?"

"That's where I recognize you from. Freshman year. You were the kid that got to class almost as early as me,"

Miroku was stunned. They had shared a small handful of classes together over their high school years, but the one that stuck out the most for her was first period history during their freshman year? That was nearly ten years ago!

"Uhh….y-yes. With Mr. Myoga,"

"Sometimes, I don't know how we made it through that class," she laughed, remembering the long mornings of boring anecdotes and not enough energy to spare between the class.

"Well, someone as….aged, as Mr. Myoga had many stories to tell about the vibrant history of Japan," Miroku's lips curved up slightly. One of the benefits of being a flea youkai was living through each monumental event that made up the history of Japan. Although his method of teaching it was...lacking.

"He made the topic so boring! He preferred listening to the sound of his own voice more than actually teaching us about the subject. Honestly, it should be illegal to hold such a boring class that early in the morning."

"Fewer words could be truer," Miroku grinned, delighting in the easy smile that steadily grew on her face. She was so beautiful when she smiled. The edges of her lips almost seemed to touch the wrinkles around her eyes as she smiled, small dimples becoming noticeable on her cheeks as she talked.

It was obvious that Sango lived a very happy and joyous life.

"So, what's the story with you and Kagome? How'd you meet?"

Miroku never expected for Sango to take control of the conversation like she did. He expected that he would be the one to ask her a litany of dumb, intrusive questions about their friends engagement, the weather, or how her day had gone. And she would smile politely at him as he rambled, giving him simple, flat answers in an attempt to humor him.

Instead, she barrelled through, asking him a variety of simple 'get to know you' questions - What did you major in? Where do you work? What's your favorite color? Pepsi or Coke? - with the perfect opportunity for Miroku to turn the question back on her as soon as he answered. Perhaps she could sense how nervous he was around her. It was definitely easier than Miroku doing it all on his own, that's for sure.

It wasn't long before the both of them were laughing and joking around with each other. Part of him couldn't believe how easy it was to talk to Sango, although it wasn't a huge surprise. Miroku found practically every aspect of her life interesting and would gladly sit and converse with her for hours - eternity if she'd let him.

There was one thing he had to know; was she dating someone? It would be a devastating blow if she was, but after getting to know her for just a little bit, Miroku knew he needed her in his life. Even if he couldn't have her the way he truly wanted her.

Now all he needed to do was come up with a way to ask her that wasn't creepy or weird. Or intrusive.

'Just act….natural…'

"So, how have you and your date enjoyed the party so far?"

Nice. Smooth and natural.

"Oh, I didn't come here with anyone," she responded hesitantly.

"My apologies! I didn't mean to assume,"

"It's okay, I understand," Sango smiled, although it didn't shine through her eyes like before. She turned her attention to something off in the distance, wringing her hands together in her lap. Miroku suddenly felt a little selfish bringing the subject up at all.

"I hope I didn't upset you somehow. I swear on my father's grave that was never my intention,"

"What? Oh, no!" Sango turned back to him with wide eyes. "I didn't think that at all! It's just…" She looked away again, staring intently at her hands folded in her lap. "It's just...sort of a touchy subject for me right now. I've not had the best luck in the dating circuit,"

"Forgive me Sango, I have a hard time believing a woman as beautiful as you has a hard time getting anything she wants,"

Miroku's statement caused a pink blush to cover her cheeks.

"Yeah, well, that's just the problem, isn't it?" Sango mumbled. Miroku kept silent, watching the indecision flash across Sango's face, either caused by her deliberating her next words or whether or not she wanted to say something at all.

She looked up at him next, face still a little pink from embarrassment, yet she looked up at him with an air of determination. Her eyes were hard and resolute, but Miroku could see the tenderness behind it all.

"Most of the guys I've dated think I'm too assertive."

Miroku was unsurprised by this, but a part of him still had a hard time believing such a thing could be said about Sango. Her assertiveness was something to be cherished, not looked down upon.

"Sounds like most guys are just too insecure to handle you,"

Sango let out a small breath of laughter. "I'm sure they would all balk at the insinuation that they have crippling male egos. Much easier to dump me and go about their lives,"

"Well, that's just their loss, isn't it?"

Sango couldn't help but lock eyes with the mysterious man sitting next to her. She had heard that phrase before from a variety of people. It was always someone else's loss when she was kicked to the curb, and it always made her so angry whenever she heard it. It certainly never seemed like it was a loss to them; if anything, they acted better off. People usually said that to her in a veiled attempt to comfort her, knowing it was because of her own temperament that they left.  

Sango always had quite the mouth on her, and unless she could learn to tame it, no man would give her any time of day.

Yet, she didn't get the same vibes from Miroku. He seemed truly genuine when he said it was their loss. As if it was better for her to be her rude, straight to the point, brash self instead of the meek, silent woman in the background most men wanted her to be.

Sango was truly intrigued by this man.

She wasn't lying when she said she remembered him from their shared history class. Although, he had been more of a background character in the story of her life. She could recall them sharing a few classes over the years, and she had heard through the grapevine that he was sort of a ladies man, but they effectively went different ways after high school, and Sango pushed back any thoughts of him to the back of her mind.

Then one day, he was suddenly thrust back into her life via her best friend since forever, Kagome.

It was nice to know that Kagome had a friend she could talk to about her work. Sango was the dutiful best friend, always giving Kagome the time and attention she deserved as she talked about her day, but oftentimes Kagome would get caught up in the history of an artefact or a traditional dance, which was likely to go right over Sango's head. Miroku became a sort of conduit for Kagome's ramblings, saving Sango from having to pretend to be as knowledgeable about the subject as Kagome, or ask a million questions.

It was a friendship that blossomed over the years, as they do when Kagome is involved. Kagome's stories started to involve more of Miroku and less of work, eventually even adding Inuyasha to the mix. Yet, despite all the talk, Sango had yet to meet the famed 'Miroku'.

Kagome always said good things about him. He was quiet with an old soul. He had far more wisdom than most people his age and he never backed down at lending out a helping hand. A real gentleman.

Inuyasha's only helpful comments on the subject were that he was a 'lecherous monk'.

Which led to some confusing ideas about the man.

She still wasn't sure what to think about him. She could tell he was nervous; it was cute, the way he stuttered and rambled. And despite the rumors of him being a ladies man, he never seemed to ogle her or make her feel uncomfortable - despite literally landing his face in her chest. Their conversations so far had been easy and fun, something she really hadn't felt with another person in quite a long time.

Miroku was in heaven. He didn't think he could ever tire of talking to her, or listening to her talk about anything. She was funny, able to pull a joke out of the most basic of topics. And opinionated. Miroku was always up for a good debate, and he was sure Sango could give him a run for his money.

He didn't know how much time had passed as they stared at one another, probably only minutes yet it felt like hours. There was a heat developing between the two - not a smouldering heat, like the sun, that enveloped your whole body, but a soft warmth, like a candle, that started in the tips of the fingers, working its way slowly up the arms to take root in the chest. She just...looked him up and down with those wide cinnamon eyes, not in a lewd way, but with a sense that he was something new, something she had never seen before.

Once again, Miroku was stunned by her beauty. She truly was a goddess among mortals. Was it considered excessive the amount of times he obsessed over her looks? Possibly, but Miroku didn't care. Sango was a woman deserving of unbridled attention.

This was it. This was his in. He was gonna be confident and suave and somehow convince her to go on a date with him. He was going to use everything he learned from all the women he's been with and use it for good. For Sango.

"Sango, I - "

"Hey you two!" The raucous sounds of the party inside became louder as someone Miroku didn't recognize leaned their head outside. "It's time to toast the newly engaged couple!" And without another look back, they disappeared back inside, leaving the door wide open for them to follow.

Miroku could have screamed.

Why couldn't anything go right when it came to Sango? Their whole ambiance was ruined now. She was distracted by the party inside, and now there was even more of a chance someone will try and come outside.

"Well, I guess we should be getting back inside," Sango sighed, slowly pushing her chair back to stand up.

"Sango, wait!" Miroku leapt to his feet. He just needed one more minute with her! He didn't want this opportunity to go to waste. "I-I'd really like to see you again. Can..I..can I get your number? You know, we can...make plans or...something."

Well, it wasn't his best bit of courting, but it was better than being a coward and not talking to her, he supposed. And if she said no? At least he would have a definite answer.

She looked at him for another moment before giving him a soft smile. "I'd like that," she said, holding her hand out for his phone. 

Miroku scrambled for the device sitting in his front pocket, unlocking it and bringing up a 'New Contact' screen before holding it out to her with shaky hands. She tapped away, keeping the screen close to her face. She kept the phone to her face for a good amount of time, longer than she needed to if she was just putting her contact information. She pulled out her own phone from her pocket and waited for it to vibrate with a notification before closing out his own phone and handing it back to him.

"I'll see you around, Miroku?" Sango asked, so innocently yet Miroku we sure there was a layer of seduction there.

In a last ditch attempt to be anything but the loser he felt he had been all night, Miroku responded with confidence. "I look forward to it, my dear Sango,"

Sango departed after that, not before giving him a once over with her eyes and sporting what Miroku would describe as a 'devilish' grin.

That one look would carry Miroku into the next year, he was sure of it.

Miroku became deaf and blind when it came to the party inside, opening his phone back up and going straight to his messaging app. There would be time later for him to memorize her number - you know, just in case he accidentally lost it before they could set up a date - but he was curious to see what she texted to herself.

He expected to see 'Sango Tanaka' as the subject line, but was surprised to see a different name under the most recent message:

Slayer🍑😘

[Sent @ 6:15 PM] Next Friday, 7PM, Tanaka Dojo 📿

There was….much for Miroku to unpack here. The first of which was the nickname she gave herself. It was well known that the peach emoji was frequently used to represent one's derriere. Was her choice to use that particular emoji a coincidence, or was she privy to the fact that Miroku was indeed an ass man?

Especially when it came to Sango's gloriously toned and plump backside.

Miroku could have written an entire dissertation on why Sango chose that nickname if he had the time. Instead, he gravitated towards the message she sent herself. Normally people sent little one word messages, just enough to bridge the gap between cellular devices. Instead, it looked like Sango set up the details for their first date.

Their first date.

Just thinking those three little words left him feeling giddy, his heart pumping so heavily in his chest, Miroku could practically see the organ trying to rip itself from its fleshy prison. 

Miroku finally looked up from his phone and gazed inside at the party. Just like earlier, the crowd of guests inside parted in just the right way so that he had a perfect view of Sango. She was leaning backwards against the kitchen counter, cradling a slender glass of something bubbly - probably champagne. She was standing by herself, a gentle smile on her face as she watched everyone gather around the Kagome and a slightly nervous looking Inuyasha.

It was like looking at a freshly finished puzzle. Every piece meticulously placed in just the right way, resulting in a release of endorphins just by looking at the fruits of one's hard work.

Sango was his puzzle.

There were still a few pieces to put together here and there, but the hard part was over with. Now was the time for Miroku to take those few random puzzle pieces and finish his work of art.

A life with Sango.

Perhaps he was a tad crazy for having such strong emotions for this woman, but who was he to argue with the pounding of his heart whenever he saw her picture or the butterflies in his stomach whenever she spoke. If his feelings for her were wrong, then he didn't want to be right. He would show them all that Miroku Kibe and Sango Tanaka were meant to be together.

Miroku closed his phone and shoved it into his pocket, resolute in the path he was about to take. Despite the loud, raucous energy of the crowd inside, Miroku could feel several pairs of eyes on him as he made his way inside. Not too long ago, Miroku might have been put off by the interfering actions of his friends, but now he could only feel thankful for them. Thankful that they would let him share even a smidgen of their spotlight, even just between the three of them.

The sounds of the crowd, the eyes of his curious friends, he ignored them all in favor of the woman standing by herself in the kitchen as he walked towards the bar to grab his own glass of already poured champagne. Sango looked up in his direction as he approached and offered him a warm smile. Miroku simply smiled back, leaning back against the kitchen counter beside her. 

Sango deserved to have someone to stand by her - whether it be at the store or waiting for the bus, through bad times and good times, even at your best friends engagement party. And Miroku was going to be the one to do just that.

Because she was just the girl he had been looking for.

[beyondthetemples-ooc]

OC-tober Day 2: Glass

OC-tober prompts put together by @oc-growth-and-development​! I have to ramble in meta instead of write, because my brain is Mush lately. (I know I’m behind but I have a lot pre-written, I just need to put it into coherent words!)

This one especially can be rambled about at length, because the most important “glass” object in my stories is one I greatly enjoy exploring: Dove’s mindscape mirror!

^ I drew it forever ago; here’s the deviantArt link if you’d like to see the big version! 

https://www.deviantart.com/ravenshiddensoul/art/Dove-s-Keepsakes-Mirror-and-Box-284227087

It’s largely modeled after a bird stretching its wings upwards, with a handle like a tail and certain details are inlaid with Azarathean gold to better channel its magics.

Now, this is where the rambling begins: The mirror’s backstory, and I’ll be exploring one of my favorite things to develop in all of my stories: Dove’s mindscape!

Dove's mirror isn't one of her most prized possessions, nor super incredibly sentimental, but it IS an object touched with her mother's magic, it has flourishes of Azarathean gold (some of the last pieces to exist), and it's useful for introspection and self-soothing, so it does have some value and importance.

Dove struggled with meditating quite a lot as a child, and there was only so much her mother could do to help. Meditation was pretty important to them as both a means of helping Dove control her powers, and as a staple of Azarathean spirituality. As she so often did, Alerina poked around and asked enough questions around the temple that she was told about Raven's mirror, and she decided to replicate it for Dove. She custom ordered a gold-lined wooden hand mirror, and then cast the spells to connect it to Dove's inner world herself. It took a few tries (it's much harder to connect something to someone else's mind than your own, after all), but she was nothing if not determined to help her daughter, and eventually figured it out.

As for its main purpose: Self-reflection! (If you'll pardon the pun.) Dove uses it to meditate, but where Raven uses hers for centering and compartmentalization, Dove uses it more as a blend of escapism and a focusing aid.

Much like Raven's, Dove's mirror acts as a portal to the depths of her mind, and this is where it gets fun!

The vortex that transports the users is usually white and gold, imbued with the same energies that give Dove her powers, at least on her mother's side. It's noticeably touched with black and red in DDD. (Dove's evil side starts taking over her mind, and thus its energies manifest through the mindscape, and Dove's portal into it, hence: black and red energies instead.) It tends to open up like a light tunnel and almost opens the mental world around the user, rather than dragging them in.

Once inside, one can't expect to navigate the same way as Beast Boy and Cyborg did in "Nevermore". Every mind is different, after all! We saw Raven's mindscape divided nearly into emotional sections with a neutral space between them, and the way through each area was preset and linear. While different parts of Dove's internal world manifest in different "areas", they're not so totally divided and separate, and there's no real "neutral" zone except at the very "center". The scenery changes, but it's more of a gradual transition, and though Dove employs thresholds to mark key areas, they're very much just visual aids.

Dove's mindscape is laid out more like a series of rooms and courtyards in a very (very, very, very) large mansion. The ground is generally of crystal, spires and columns decorate the scenery, and the thresholds are modeled after birds with their wings outspread. (While this seems like a play on Dove's namesake, it's actually based on Azarath's architecture, particularly that of George Perez's Azarath in the 1980's New Teen Titans comics.)

Dove's sky shows various stars and often casts moonlight from an uncertain source, particularly when she's introspecting. The ambient temperature varies amongst the locations, chilly in the regions ruled by fear and sadness, uncomfortably warm near her demon's domain, and comfortable and breezy where her peace and contentment reside.

One could easily get lost in her mindscape if they don't know where they're going. The place can shift and change on a whim.

Where Dove spends her time building that peace and contentment, it's very closely modeled after her mother's memories of Azarath (which is where she learned how to find peace, after all): there's marble and gold everywhere, and the stars twinkle with dozens of colors in the sky.

Where Dove retreats when there are feelings of timidity, her excruciating shyness, her grief and doubt, the world becomes shrouded in thick fog. Broken buildings and pale light litter the grounds.

Where she built her love for reading, for history, for creativity and study and learning, it's arranged as rooms with dark marbled tile and a carpeted path, the floor for dozens of feet on either side littered with piles of books.

Dove's inner happy place is an open field on gently rolling hills, where thoughts take the form of birds and somehow the sky holds both the stars and suns. One might find trees, flowers, abstract forms of cottages, and forts loaded with mugs and cozy cushions. If you wander far enough you'll find very tall stone walls surrounding it, because Dove's mind is such that her happiness is one of the few things she really truly believes she needs to protect from the rest of herself.

And then there are the aspects of herself that she shoves the deepest down, secreted far away from the surface: the anger, the hunger for power, the mean streak. (Yes, believe it or not, Dove does have a mean streak! You just have to work especially hard to bring it out. Or trigger her in just the right ways around sadism, violence, war, or death. It's very much Not Recommended; bringing too much of that mean streak out could mean Dove loses control of her powers, or worse: her demonic aspects.)

Those secret forces aren't so much located in one particular space of her mind as they're hidden in every dark corner, coursing through the underside of all the ground, a tantalizing power running through every part of her, only ever set free enough to use the dangerous powers to her own ends.

Her places for Fear and Curiosity in particular will be explored in the upcoming Missing: Raven rewrite. (As they're the strongest things Dove is feeling in that story, that's going to be what Beast Boy and Cyborg encounter.) I also explored the way these things manifest in DDD, and in that same story Dove will focus on rebuilding Peace in the final chapter.

I can't talk about Dove's mindscape without mentioning the "emoticlones". These fun little guys are called by the fanon term given to Raven's "emotion clones", the separate parts of her that express a specific set of traits based on particular aspects of her personality. I had so much fun playing with their voices and thoughts in Dove's head during DDD, you have no freaking idea! I also copied the concept of them having Colored Cloaks from Teen Titans canon, because honestly it's a quick and easy way to identify them, and the fandom's familiar with this system through Raven.

Which colors mean what was more inspired by details from a really old, now-defunct website called Cartoon Orbit that had separate "online trading cards" for each of Raven's emoticlones! On that site, Raven's were labeled as such, and this is what I based Dove's system on, loosely: - Pink: "Raven Happy" - Red: "Raven Rage" - Orange: "Raven Rude" - Yellow: "Raven Smart" - Green: "Raven Brave" - Brown: "Raven Fear" (I'm pretty sure there was a purple one, but I don't recall what it was called. "Love" maybe? That might be from fanon; this site was running like 15 years ago, and I was like 10 years old, so I hardly thought to pay Super Special Attention to it...)

But I digress. The point is, I adapted that system for the key aspects of Dove's unique personality, and came to understand them as follows:

- Pink: Joy, relief, coziness - Red: Cruelty, impulsivity, anger - Orange: Apathy, indifference, disregard - Yellow: Curiosity, study, intrigue - Green: Courage, determination, activity - Blue: Contentedness, pacifism, spirituality - Purple: Compassion, friendship, romanticism - Gray: Sadness, grief, longing. - Brown: Fear, fear, fear!

But for Dove's mind in particular, it's not only HER experiences and personality that form the world! She's a telepath, and though she holds others' privacy in very, very high regard and tries never to read someone's mind without their permission, her sense of receptive telepathy is ever-present. Echoes, lights, shadows, reflections of others' memories and thoughts might affect the very edges of her mind. It's a constant sense, but it only ever causes very ephemeral changes unless something deeply affects her.

Her mindscape also grows and changes as Dove grows and changes, experiences life, learns to cope, and changes how she handles her own emotions.

Most notably, the internal struggle in DDD tore her mind apart. Initially it was due to a breakdown of certainty and confidence, hastened by guilt and grief, but it soon became a deliberate tactic to wage war on the parts of Dove's mind that were trying to resist the evil; eventually her inner demon began intentionally breaking/corrupting everything it could touch.

By chapter 20, that evil is the only strong and stable thing in Dove's mind. Raven's attack to remove the evil in her took away that stability, and strength, and thus took away what was essentially the last support holding Dove's mind together. As it says in the story: "everything collapsed". Dove's mindscape was utterly destroyed, and only the most basic aspects of her remained.

For awhile, that left Dove unable to remember things clearly, or feel emotions without great pain. Rebuilding it to the point where she was able to talk and feel Mostly Normally again took months of meditation.

When Dove is kidnapped and Leyla has distressing dreams about her mother, she, Srentha, and Raven use the mirror to check on Dove by accessing her mindscape. With her powers stripped away, surrounded by people who mock her, and certain Fauni rituals sickening Dove to her soul, naturally her mind is very different: shadowy forms flitted at the edges of vision, the ground wavered, her discomfort was thick in the air and the constant fear made everything so, so cold. "Shadows" of others' thoughts flashed in and out of existence, and Dove's desperation manifests as fleeting voices on the wind. It's uncomfortable to be in her mind while she's so distressed.

It's also worth mentioning that her mindscape changes again, essentially "growing" the part of her that belongs to Love when she finally lets herself love Srentha, and it expands again when Leyla's born and Dove once more finds depths of love she didn't know she could carry.

[narutowtfareyoudoing]

Morning Coffee.

So I once got a lovely message from an anon that said they like to read what I write while they make coffee in the morning and it gave me the idea for some cute mini scenarios. If you're out there anon this is for you, I don't know your favourite characters so I just went with some of mine. --- Kakashi Hatake:

   With no alarm clocks in this house it's usually the sun vengefully hitting you in the eyes that wakes you and unfortunately this morning is no different if anything the sun is even more evil today. Blinking your eyes open you don't even wanna look at a the clock but you do wanna look over at Kakashi, it's good to actually see him sleeping in bed you've caught him one too many times reading into the hours of the morning instead of sleeping. Gosh he's cute. You sigh and stretch as you get up, bones popping and a whine escaping you as you do, your feet find the floor and you force your tired body up not caring for the blankets that cling to you. Kakashi's developed an iron grip to fight your blanket stealing ways so you know it's not going anywhere. You shuffle your way from the bedroom to the kitchen rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you go and though the journey's not far you lean against the counter when you reach it and yawn and then you look to the next feat of your adventure and decide if it's worth it...bending down to grab the coffee grinds, who put them down there? It had to be Kakashi because you would never sabotage yourself like that. Everything in your body groaned and creaked as you bent down into the cupboard to grab it but you were rewarded with the smell of coffee as you opened the container and dumped a few scoops into the coffee maker and silently thanked Kakashi for always putting in a filter after throwing out the old one. You and Kakashi both knew you could afford a much nicer coffee maker than the one you had but it had gotten the job done for years, why replace what isn't broken? You sigh as you realize you have to fill it with water, will these trails of survival never end? You shuffle yourself  over to the sink to fill the coffee maker and finally, finally! You're able to push the on button. You lean on the counter and listen to the hissing and gurgling of your precious machine ah music to your ears little did you know it was also music to Kakashi's unconscious ears. The familiar sound rouses him awake and much like you he feels every ache in his bones as he stretches and shuffles himself to his feet as he walks through the left open bedroom door he's greeted by the sight of you. It's a good sight, no matter how messy the hair, how tired the eyes or how hunched over you are seeing you brings a smile to his face as does the coffee you're making. He sneaks over and with too much delight for this morning hour snatches the cup from your hands. "Hey!"    "Morning." He chimes back taking a sip of coffee.    "That's mine!" You snap as you try to grab it from him but he quickly moves.    "Careful, you'll make me spill." He teases.    "You don't even like my coffee! You're a black coffee freak!" You complain.    "That's not a very good way to convince me to give it back."    "Give it back or I ban reading books in bed."    The coffee is back in your hands. "You don't fight fair."    He sighs and pours his own coffee as you finally get a sip of yours and feel your muscles relax with the delicious slightly burnt taste. "It's before my first cup of coffee I don't have to fight fair." You point out.    "Is that in the Shinobi handbook?" He teased.    "Oh yeah, first page." You tease back.    He hmmed in response as he takes another sip and soft silence hangs in the air and he's once again reminded of how happy he is to have you as apart of his mornings even with all the teasing. He comes cover behind you and wraps his free arm around your stomach and rests his tired head on your shoulder and relishes in the way you affectionately nudge him with your own head. With all the work Shinobi do these moments feel increasingly rare and so you two just silently bathe in the warmth of the moment together, letting the tiredness wrap around you and make the moment nearly euphoric. That is until there's loud knocking on your door that knocks you out of the moment and almost costs you your coffee cup. "We know you're in there Kakashi-sensei! We've been waiting for hours at the training grounds!" A tiny voice shouted.    "Kakashi." You scolded.    "In my defense it's your fault. You did keep me up last night." He teased kissing your neck.    And for a moment you enjoy the tingling sensation that radiates throughout your body but only for a moment until loud knocking once again loudly booms through your apartment. "We're counting to ten and then we're gonna break down the door!"    "You think I can bribe kids with coffee?" He pondered    "Kakashi, if they break my door you're never reading in this apartment again." You said pointedly.    "Oh, so it's your door?" He teasingly sighed as he put down his coffee.    "It's my door the same way it's my fault for keeping you up late." You said sarcastically.    You walked over to the bedroom door as he walked over to the front and grabbed his mask from the handle and slingshoted it at his ass making him jump. He looked over at you with an eyebrow cocked as he picked it up. "You're not making a good case for me to open the door." He pointed it out as he slipped it on.    "Save my door or else I can't be held responsible for what happens to the books in my room."    The door was opened just before the kids hit zero saving your door, Kakashi's books and what was left of your coffee. ---

Gaara:

   Gaara is always up before you even without Shukaku he doesn't really sleep, he'll lay with you at night if there's time but typically with all the duties of being a Kage there isn't time. However there's always time in the morning for iced coffee and breakfast together. This morning was no different, in the Sunagakure heat little was tolerable to eat other than something cold so iced coffee and fresh fruit salad is was as usual. Living in the desert doesn't often lend itself to fresh fruit but with Gaara cultivation of cacti he grew many different types of prickly pear so in the early morning sun he went out to collect some. Some may see this as a daily chore but it's apart of Gaara's day he thoroughly enjoys, it's a simple constant in his life to harvest the fruits of his labour and share them with you and just that thought brought a rare smile to his face. So many hours of his day are devoted to the people of Sunagakure but in these early morning hours they're just for the two of you and it brings some semblance of normality to his life. He looks over his cacti, all the hours he's sunk into these thriving plants and the few plants that aren't cacti that you two planted together, whenever you go out on missions you always return with some kind of new plant of seed for you two to plant in the garden, they stick out like sore thumbs but he loves them and always makes sure they're well tended too. Memories happily trickle through his mind like sand through an hourglass as he uses his sand to gather prickly pears and avoid their spikes. He gathers only what he needs before heading back to your shared home and preparing the prickly pears, it's something domestic he enjoys, it's easy and calming to him and even after all this time the novelty of making breakfast for the both of you hasn't warn off at all. He notices the sound of dragging feet as you make your way over. "Morning, lemme hug you." You yawn tiredly.    A warning really isn't needed when you've made no point in trying to hide you whereabouts but you've gotten into the habit from the one time Gaara didn't hear you coming and instead of meeting his body you were met with a wall of protective sand. Your arms wind their way around his middle and you hug him tight from behind and no matter how long you've been together, no matter how deep you've delved into intmacy simple touches like this still make butterflies flutter around his chest. You lean your weight into him as you rest your entire body against him, it's almost comical. "Sleep well?" He asks.    "Mhm." You murmur into his back.    "Why don't you go sit? I'll bring you breakfast." He offers softly.    You shake your head into his back. "I'm good here." You slur. A small chuckle escapes his throat as he nods and continues his work, he's got no great desire to remove himself from you so he simply bathes pleasantly in your presence. As he's cutting the prickly pears into small chunks he notices your hand blindly sneaking over to try and grab a piece. "You're going to grab the husk and poke yourself again, S/O." Gaara gently chastises as he brings his sand up to make a barrier between you and the food.    You playfully let out an exasperated groan bringing a small smile to his lips that only grows when you lay a small kiss to the middle of his back where your head lays it blossoms warmth in his chest as you let go since your master plan as been foiled. You decide to set your sleepy sights on coffee, filling glasses with ice and adding sugar and milk to your own and leaving Gaara's black bleh you pour the coffee and bring them over to the small dinning table, taking a sip really helped to pull you out of your hot sleepy state, the cold caffeine tingling your mind awake and into alertness. Not alert enough it would seem as you still jump slightly in surprise as Gaara lays down a plate of cut and cubed prickly pear as sits across from you. "Thank you for the coffee."    You gaze up at him and can't help but to smile, your alert brain slowly turning into mush. Gods, he was cute and so sweet, he'd made you breakfast and was thanking you for coffee? Who's this nice in the morning? Just your Gaara. You reach over and hold his hand and he's more than content to hold yours back, to brush his thumb over the the top of your hand and relish in this sweet silence.  Most mornings are quiet, Gaara isn't a very chatty man though he's more than happy to listen to anything you have to say but your mornings are filled with content silence, the morning is a time set aside just for the two of you to savour. You'll sit well into the morning, slowly draining your coffee and having your fill of fruit until the day calls you both away but until then little is sweeter than this. Besides your coffee if you ask Gaara. ---

Itachi Uchiha:

   Had making tea always been this stressful?! You could pull your hair out you were so nervous. You were nearly never up before Itachi but this morning you were so you decided to surprise him with tea in bed, Itachi has several teas throughout the day, he loves tea so that just made sense to do. What didn't make sense right now? All the possible preparation it took to properly brew tea. If it was too hot you'd burn the tea, too cold the flavour wasn't going be full bodied, what about steeping time? Should you add honey? Milk? Cream? Sugar? Gods, when had this become to complicated? You just wanted to be a good S/O and treat Itachi like he usually treated you in the morning but so far you were just surrounded by tiny cups, put into a Hell of your own making, a beige Hell of different coloured teas with varying amounts of milk and other ingredients. It was the smell that woke Itachi and the first time he noticed was the lack of your presence on his chest, usually this early you're still asleep and drooling tiny rivers onto his chest. He sighs as he slowly sits his aching body up and reaches into his bedside drawer to grab a vial of medicine to make the day a little less painful, it tastes vile as he swallows it and if his nose is telling him anything there's tea ready to help get rid of the foul taste. He slowly gets up and wonder what has you up so early, you usually like to sleep in on the days you two have together if he doesn't wake you he knows you can sleep well into the afternoon which he finds quite cute, the way your face scrunches up when the sun finally hits it and you are clearly awake but attempting to argue with your body over being conscious. It's ridiculous but very endearing. Just like the sight that greets him as he comes into the kitchen. You're standing there in your nightshirt, hair still unbrushed, counter and small dining table covered in tiny teacups. He slightly cocks his head as he takes in the sight, his mind trying to figure out what exactly it is you're doing as he grabs a tea closest to him and he notices how cold it is...so you've been at this for a while. "Feeling insustrious this morning, love?" He softly asks.    He's up?! Oh Gods how long have you been doing this? You thought you'd have time to clean, you stutter for your words trying to explain as you look around. "Tea?" You weakly settle on to offer.    "Seems like I've got options." He gently teases as he walks over to you. The taste that's left in his mouth is still noticeable and unfavourable but he pushes that aside to check on you and see what's going on in your brilliant mind. He brings a hand up to push the hair on your face aside and presses a soft kiss to your forehead to try and calm the clear panic you're in and you melt into the action. Big black eyes reassuringly stare at you and you can feel the tension leave your shoulders. "Tea?" You offer again grabbing the one you thought you'd done the best on.    He takes the Oolong tea from your hands. "Thank you." He says before taking a sip, he can feel your eyes on him as he does and it becomes very clear to him what's going on here. "It's very good." He adds and he watches you beam proudly at the praise. "As I'm sure the rest of them are." He softly adds. And those word do make you realize that perhaps...this had been a silly worry. "I just wanted to make you tea in bed...I know how much you love tea but then I realized how much goes into making tea, like the temperature, the steeping time, the amount of sugarorhoneyormilkor--" You start to wind yourself back up again. "Anything you make me is perfect because you made it for me." He interrupts gently bringing his hand back up to your face to capture your attention.    Once again your panic melts into his soft touch and you take a deep breath. "How about we drink on the front porch this morning? I'll deal with this mess once I'm more conscious." You pitch.    "Sounds like a good idea." He easily agrees.    Itachi moves the hand caressing your face down to lace his fingers with yours and with your free hand you grab one of the many tea's and you both head outside to sit and enjoy the pale blues of the morning sky. You lean yourself into his side as you sit in contentment, there aren't many mornings you get to enjoy with Itachi, he's typically so busy with his work with the Akatsuki so moments like this you let yourself get lost in, you soak up every bit this shared time together offers and save it for the mornings you miss him. Itachi does the same, he's well aware his days are numbered whether it be from his line of work or his illness he's well aware that there is no endless days like this with you so he takes in right now. And right now he's with you, a S/O who loves him so much you panicked yourself with making the perfect tea, right now the love of his life is holding his hand and leaning into his side, your head resting on his shoulder and if he concentrates he can feel your relaxed breathing against his side, he can smell your shampoo, the quiet mmms that escape you every time you take a sip of tea. Right now this moment he's in with you outweighs all the pain and misery he's experienced, who needs forever when moments like this exist for him to live in now? This morning tea was perfect. --- ~Admin Coral Buy Me A Coffee?

[fedonciadale]

@winged-wolves: thoughts on this ASOS Sansa quote? : They look like two huge castles afloat in the morning sky....The sun was coming up behind them, and she watched them go from black to grey to a thousand shades of rose and gold and crimson. Soon the wind mushed them together, and there was only one castle where there had been two....“Come see, ” she told them. “There’s a castle in the sky.” - is it foreshadowing something? is it symbolic? (quote was too long to post in entirety)

Hi there! @winged-wolves!

Her lord husband was not beside her, but she was used to that. Tyrion was a bad sleeper and often rose before the dawn. Usually she found him in the solar, hunched beside a candle, lost in some old scroll or leatherbound book. Sometimes the smell of the morning bread from the ovens took him to the kitchens, and sometimes he would climb up to the roof garden or wander all alone down Traitor's Walk.         

She threw back the shutters and shivered as gooseprickles rose along her arms. There were clouds massing in the eastern sky, pierced by shafts of sunlight. They look like two huge castles afloat in the morning sky. Sansa could see their walls of tumbled stone, their mighty keeps and barbicans. Wispy banners swirled from atop their towers and reached for the fast-fading stars. The sun was coming up behind them, and she watched them go from black to grey to a thousand shades of rose and gold and crimson. Soon the wind mushed them together, and there was only one castle where there had been two.

She heard the door open as her maids brought the hot water for her bath. They were both new to her service; Tyrion said the women who'd tended to her previously had all been Cersei's spies, just as Sansa had always suspected. "Come see," she told them. "There's a castle in the sky." (ASOS, Sansa IV)

If you look at Jon V in ASOS, where he feels alone although Ygritte is right behind him:

Jon wondered where Ghost was now. Had he gone to Castle Black, or was he was running with some wolfpack in the woods? He had no sense of the direwolf, not even in his dreams. It made him feel as if part of himself had been cut off. Even with Ygritte sleeping beside him, he felt alone. He did not want to die alone.

By that afternoon the trees had begun to thin, and they marched east over gently rolling plains. Grass rose waist high around them, and stands of wild wheat swayed gently when the wind came gusting, but for the most part the day was warm and bright. Toward sunset, however, clouds began to threaten in the west. They soon engulfed the orange sun, and Lenn foretold a bad storm coming. His mother was a woods witch, so all the raiders agreed he had a gift for foretelling the weather. "There's a village close," Grigg the Goat told the Magnar. "Two miles, three. We could shelter there." Styr agreed at once.

It was well past dark and the storm was raging by the time they reached the place. The village sat beside a lake, and had been so long abandoned that most of the houses had collapsed. Even the small timber inn that must once have been a welcome sight for travelers stood half-fallen and roofless. We will find scant shelter here, Jon thought gloomily. Whenever the lightning flashed he could see a stone roundtower rising from an island out in the lake, but without boats they had no way to reach it.

It is quite interesting. The Sansa quote could point towards the castles at the Eyries: Stone and Snow (two castles) that become one (Sky/in the sky). I think you could read it as a Jonsa foreshadowing.

Jon in this parallel chapter starts with Castle Black (like the black castles in the sky) and ends at the castle that is not named here but that is “Queenscrown”.

Both the castles merging together in the sky and Jon being forced to seek shelter near Queenscrown are caused by wind. Jon’s story starts at Castle Black and ends with his Queen being crowned? Queenscrown is also very important because that is the point where Jon betrays the Freefolk and Ygritte. It is his “traitor’s walk” in a way.

I think it is interesting and I doubt it is coincidence, escpecially not because Jon and Sansa start the chapter with being alone.

Thanks for the ask!

[fdd700]

Part 1/2

Pairing: Dukexiety, mentioned moceit and intrulogical Words: 1993 Genre: heavy angst (self deprecation, feeling unlovable, heart break), mentions of smut, mentions of foot

“Oh emo~” Virgil spun around, noticing Remus has managed to get into his room without alerting him. “There you are.” He started walking forward but Virgil jumped back.

“Remus? What are you doing here?”

“Oh, emo, don’t be act like a deer hit by a car, we’re friends, so of course I’ll wanna check in!” There was a glint in eyes, and something told Virgil he should run. Another pat of him didn’t want to.

“F-friends?” This didn’t make sense. Remus should hate him. He was so... “But I was so mean, I left and-”

“Water under the bridge.”

“No Remus, please, I should apologise, I was going to-”

“Virgie-”

“I’m so sorry, I was so scared they’d hate me-”

“Virge-”

“I thought if they liked me, then they’d warm up to you-”

“Virgil!” The dark cloud that had begun to form around the anxious side slowly began to fade away. He looked up, tears streaming down his face, ruining his eyeshadow. “Water under the bridge.”

“I don’t deserve that, though,” Virgil said. Remus opened his mouth, but Virgil put up his hands. “I need to apologise. Properly.” He took a shaky breath, wiping his eyes with his hoodie. “I am sorry. I was so mean to you and Janus. There’s no excuse, and I would completely understand if neither of you spoke to me again. There’s no changing what I said and did, I know that.” He takes another deep breath. “I was desperate to fit in and I let their opinions cloud mine. I’m sorry.” Remus was quiet, uncharacteristically so. He moved over closer to Virgil again, and this time the anxious side didn’t jump back.

“Water under the bridge.” He was getting closer and the glint in his eyes was spreading. “Tickle me emo, let’s say I was mad at you, do you think I would be here?” Virgil shook his head, unable to form a single sentence. “You’ve been so stressed, I’ve noticed. Now that Thomas had... reluctantly accepted me as part of his mind, I think it’s time we had a chat.”

“Chat?”

“As your aware, Roman’s creativity is a lot more, PG13 than mine,” Remus said. “Ya know, unicorns and dragons, mine, however,” A grin was spreading over his face. He was in Virgil’s personal space now. Virgil tried to take a step back, but we met with the wall. “Is a little more, 18 and over. You know, I’m more of the kinky one.” Virgil gulped. “And I’ve noticed none of you really like to, what’s the word? Indulge yourselves, you especially, little emo.”

“Remus-”

“Shh, it’s okay. I’m not here to judge.” His arms were on either side of Virgil’s head, caging him. “You always seem so pent up and stressed. It worries everyone because, when you relax, Thomas does too. The others tend to let you de-stress by yourself, but that hasn’t been working, has it?” Virgil felt he should lie and shake his head but the look in Remus’ eyes today him that he could see right through him. He nodded. “Then, I thought, maybe I can help?” Virgil’s breath caught in his throat. No matter how many times he imagined a situation like this, he still didn’t understand how it could be happening.

For as long as he remembered, it’s always been Remus. Ever since he first met him, after the split. Yes, he terrified the life out of him, but he listened. He always knew how to read Virgil like no one else could, and that both terrified him and interested him. 

But then he’d left. He’s said horrible things because he was scared and stupid, begging for approval. He’d hurt Remus. Yet here he was, caging Virgil him, forcing him to come face to face with his feelings.

“R-Remus...” His voice was so soft and strained, and his face was red. “I don’t know... I don’t know what you-”

“Oh, I think you do.” Virgil felt Remus’ knee nudge between his legs and Virgil panted. Holy fuck. “I think you know exactly what I’m trying to say.” Virgil found himself nodding, his eyes fluttering closed, head fallen back. “Ah ah, I need you to look at me.” A hand on his chin brought his face back down, his eyes locking with Remus’. “I need an answer.” At his silence, Remus moved to his neck, sucking, and biting gently.

“Maybe... maybe we shouldn’t do- fuck, rem...”

“Tell me to go.” Their eyes met. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll leave.” Virgil blinked.

“I...” He panted as he shifted, feeling Remus’ leg between his. “I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“Tell you that.”

“And why is that.” It would be a lie. Remus was smirking. “So, is that a yes?”

“Yes.” Remus smirked, leaning in and their lips mushed together. Virgil’s heart was pounding. He was becoming a tad overwhelmed but he would rather die than stop this. After years of pining, Remus was kissing him, and holding his and- 

He broke the kiss to pant as Remus moved his leg. The side smirked.

“C’mon emo, let’s go lie down.” Virgil only nodded, following Remus’ lead and lying down. Remus climbed on top of him. “You still look so nerveous. Do you want to back out?” ‘This is your chance to say no.’ But he didn’t want to.

“N-no- I just...” Virgil groaned as Remus’ lips resumed their exploration. “I want this.” Remus’ face reappeared, a wolfish grin on his face.

“Good, little emo.” Their lips met in a soft, quick kiss. “Very good.”

Virgil woke up alone. This didn’t hurt (he swears he didn’t), Remus was a busy person, dammit. Despite how hard he tried, Virgil couldn’t avoid the dumb smile that split his face. Remus. He had... Did this mean he liked him? For once, Virgil’s mind wasn’t plagued by anxiety. For once, the crushing pain on his chest lifted. 

“Hey Virge?” Patton knocked on his door. “You up?” Virgil, realising he was still naked (no, he did not blush {he did}) and quickly grabbed a shirt and a pair of boxers.

“Yeah, popstar, give me two seconds, I’m changing!” He grabbed his hoodie and his jeans and put them on quickly. He moved over to the door, swinging it open with a small smile. “Hey.” Patton smiled, holding up two plates.

“Everyone seems to have disappeared, so I was just coming round to see if you wanted to have dinner with me?” Virgil nodded. 

“’course. Here or..?”

“I figured we could use the communal area, as long as we don’t spill it on the couch, Lo won’t know,” Patton said, giggling. The two synced out and synced back into the common room. “Movie?”

“Oh, hell yeah. We haven’t hung out in a while; we should make an evening of it.” Patton smiled so wide, cause Virgil to chuckle. 

“Black Cauldron?” Virgil nodded at the two snuggled down. Midway through the movie, after the plates were pushed aside, Virgil glanced over at Patton, smiling. He blinked and for a second, he could’ve sworn he saw Janus, not Patton. He blinked, returning his eyes to his lap as a shame seemed to creep over him. The things he’d said and done to Janus... He moved his gaze from lap to the Tv. He would apologise, and maybe, just maybe, the other side would forgive him

The movie night ended later than expected. After Black Cauldron, they decided on Toy Story (Patton cried), then Brave (Virgil spoke in a Scottish accent until Patton cried laughing) and finally Moana (Virgil cried a little bit). It was late and Virgil knew he had to go to sleep. He had been hoping Remus would show up, but he knows he can’t get overly dependent on the creative side, it wouldn’t be healthy. So, he simply decided he would talk to him tomorrow. As they were retreating to their rooms, Patton pat him on the shoulder.

“I just wanted to say that I’m glad you seem a bit more relaxed-” (Virgil willed himself not to blush because he did not want to explain that) “- but I wanted to let you know that if you ever need me, I’m here to talk.” Virgil nodded. Patton smiled, beginning to walk away.

“Hey Pat?” Patton turned around. “You and Janus are... a thing, right?” Patton tensed slightly, preparing himself for where this might go. “I just... god that sounds condescending. I wanted to tell you that...” Virgil took a deep breath, taking Patton’s outstretched hands, squeezing them slightly. “I wanted to let you know that I’m really happy for you.” Patton’s eyes filled with tears and even Virgil couldn’t resist pulling him into a hug. It was warm and sweet.

“I- Thank you, Virgil!” Virgil smiled.

“It’s the least I can do, Popstar.”

The next morning, Virgil felt like a man on a mission. He would find Remus and they would talk about... that night. He got dressed, put on his make up before heading to the common room. Logan was already there, reading a book. Virgil smiled at him before going to get a cup of coffee.

“You’re up unusually early, Virgil,” Logan said. “Did you actually wake up early or did you never go to sleep?”

“Nah, I slept, I’ve just got something I needed to do today, so I guess I couldn’t sleep in.”

“Oh, something important? If so maybe talking to someone or, as the ‘youths’ would put it, spilling the tea, might help you come up with a plan to achieve said mission.” Virgil chuckled at him slightly before going over to the couch, carrying a mug for himself and Logan.

“Uh, I wanted to talk to Remus actually. I slept in late yesterday, so I didn’t see him. I was just gonna ask him something,” Virgil said.

“if knowing his location helps, he is in my room.” Virgil choked on his coffee. “Or at least, he was when I awoke.”

“Sorry,” Virgil said, coughing and wiping up the spilt coffee. “Did he sleep over...? I didn’t realise you were that close of friends.”

“Well, we’re all factors of Thomas’ mind. He said I needed to relax, which honestly was a little rude,” Logan said and alarm bells started going off in Virgil’s head. “So we, uhm, had intercourse.”

Sometimes, there’s moments where you can actually feel everything crashing around you. All the ideas and notions, crashing and shattering. Like a broken mirror, or a broken heart. 

Logan’s mouth was moving but Virgil couldn’t hear him and he was beginning to blur due to the tears in his eyes.

‘I’m so stupid.’ Virgil couldn’t move. He couldn’t feel his limbs. ‘I’m so stupid. Why would he ever... Of course, he didn’t like me. He was just taking one for the team.’

“Virgil, why are you crying? Has something happened or are you experiencing a panic attack?” He could hear more voices, as more people came into the room, but he couldn’t decipher one from the other.

‘I’m so pathetic. Why are you surprised? of course he doesn’t like you. He barely tolerates you. You are-’

“What’s got the emo so upset?” Virgil’s eyes, almost subconsciously, locked with Remus’. There was no glint, no warmth. They were just eyes. He never realised just how stupid he could be. 

Without a word and without explanation, he sunk out, his mug slipping out of his hand and smashing to the ground. He moved to his room, closing the door, and locking it, letting the tears fall. The dark cloud was surrounding him. He deserved this. He moved to his bed, ignoring the knocking at the shouting. He sobbed, letting all of his emotions out.

Of course, Remus would never love him. He was too emotional. He was too anxious. And he had hurt Remus. He didn’t deserve it. 

Lying in his bed, his pillow wet with tears and snot, he realised that he was just unlovable.

PART 2 IS HERE

[joecial-distancing]

July Roundup

Lifestyle:

I’ve been getting back into running this summer. It’s been about 4 years since I’ve done any serious running, and I have been made painfully aware of the differences in my body at age 29 compared to 25. My knees hurt more, I need to attend to stretching much more seriously than I used to. I’m coming at the task with better self-knowledge than last time, though; I know how far and how fast I’ve been capable of pushing, and I find an enormous amount of comfort and strength from that familiarity. 

I’ve also been applying to jobs, a process which started as nauseatingly daunting, but has gradually settled into just a regular chore of the week (ideally chore of the day, if I’m to keep up with new years resolutions). Getting a resume mushed into a satisfying shape has felt nice, as has getting together a form cover letter that I know hasn’t hurt my chances of getting my foot in doors. Annoyance Boxes checked off, and the rest is getting familiar with the rest of the grind. Interviews have been and will be the same process.

Games:

I’ve also been playing a lot of Sekiro. I’ve always “liked” Fromsoft games, but it’s been rare that I’ve been able to justify the time investment. There’s an appeal in the structure, endless chances to bash myself against a problem until it clicks, being able to run drills when stuck or inadequate (and there is a hook in the inadequacy; nothing frustrates me more than being unable to Just figure out a solution, or requiring too much time to get there. I have a tense relationship with time and deadline pressure. Impatience is one of my greatest vices). So with school finished, I’m diving into this as a treat to myself. The systems are fun, and the camera is so fucking awful that I get unreasonably angry about it. One thing I always do with these games that I think is anathema to a lot of their fans is to spoil myself on what I’m up against. In dark souls I would always have open area maps, rather than try to navigate the combat and exploration simultaneously. It put my mind at ease, I didn’t like the discomfort of the tension of untriggered surprise. And with Sekiro, I know roughly the zones I’m up against, I’m not above watching videos of the boss fights to learn the proper counters etc. No shame, no honor, that’s not what I get out of these games, really.

As with running, so with jobsearch, so with Sekiro, the method is diligence, the appeal is the pleasure of feeling my improvement over time. There is nothing more exciting to me than casually accomplishing something that I know would have annihilated me only a short time ago. I can finish 2 miles in 20 minutes, I want to get it down to 15. This also means the videogame tends to lose out on the priorities list—if I’m wanting to dedicate myself to practice, there’s almost always a different outlet that’d be better outcomes in the long run

very 8 of pentacles mood overall, lately.

Books:

I’m almost done with Pynchon’s Against the Day, which had taken up all of my Reading attention span this month. Unless it does something in the final 8% to lose me hard, it’ll probably clock in as my 2nd favorite of his stuff, behind Gravity’s Rainbow.  Anarchism as expressed against American mining companies, European empires, and the Mexican state; searches for a lost paradise city; warfare between schools of mathematics; the nature of Light. At face value, it feels closest to Gravity’s Rainbow and Mason & Dixon, compared to the rest of his work (I know there’s a lot of subtext and referencing going over my head with all of these in terms of both history and literature; I noticed a lot of reviews of AtD focused about the variety of genre style work that he’s pulling from in certain sections, nearly all of which is lost on me. It has, however, been very fun to me that I’m able to keep up with the mathematic academia infighting depicted in this). There’s a “fairy tales coming to life” quality to all three, if instead of Grimms’ stories it’s historical models of the world: Supersonic rockets wreck the flow of pavlovian cause & effect, the destruction of natural landscape in the course of linear surveying becomes a direct conduit for a massive influx of evil energy, quaternion mathematics casting time as real and space as imaginary allow a yogi to contort himself out of sight and into the imaginary plane. The aether is experimentally disproven in the beginning of Against the Day’s timeline, which doesn’t stop holdout engineers and mystics from working wonders with it.

It feels like there’s about as much going on in here as GR, but where GR is claustrophobically overstuffed (which is also part of the reason it’s a better book) and Mason & Dixon gets kind of plodding, the material here is given space to breathe, without losing momentum. It probably helps that the characters in this are a.) numerous, and b.) unusually solid as far as Pynchon goes.

It’s also got many great examples of something else I really like about Pynchon, which is that he is willing to commit 110% to incredibly stupid jokes. There’s an Elmer Fudd reference in here that completely knocked me on my ass.

Viz:

Watched the Bo Burnham netflix, which was mostly pretty good, though I’m completely out of patience for ostentations self-awareness or fake debate where the ~comedian~ who’s concerned about being ~white privileged mannn~ feels guilty he might be ~taking up space~, doesn’t know that he ~deserrrrves it~... out of patience because I already know what he did with that guilt (if genuine) — he didn’t scrap the project, he released the fucking thing anyway. What am I to do with this, Bo Burnham? Would you like my permission? Would you like an “it’s ok dude” from people of marginalized groups within your audience? Why am I watching along for a decision you’ve quite literally already made? I don’t trust displays of vulnerability before an audience of this size.

Also watched through I Think You Should Leave, which... sure it’s funny, and also very effective at making me uncomfortable, which is clearly what it’s aiming to do, but. I don’t really get why it’s got such a strong cultural draw within the online spheres I’m normally checked into. Saw some discourse about how the quotability is somehow distinct from regular memeing, which, alright get over yourselves jesus christ.

speaking of flavors of the month, watched 50 shades and lmao. I’ve been told by a trusted source the books are worse which is hilarious.

also speaking of flavors of the [century], S.O. and I have been doing a rewatch of pre-MCU comic book movies, which has been some fascinating anthropology. It meant, though, that we had to sit through howard the duck, an absolutely wretched film. Other highlights so far: willem dafoe power rangers acting, the soundtrack on affleck daredevil (incl a fuckin choice Evanescence exercise montage), Blade & Blade II still hold up.

We’ve also made it to the final season of pre-reboot xfiles. Duchovny’s mostly gone from this last season, replaced largely by robert patrick of T1000 fame, who is a better actor but a worse character, dude’s basically just A Cop. The writing’s weirdly probably better than the last couple Duchovny seasons, but the show doesn’t work without him — his bad acting was the main thing keeping things together, the tone’s all off now.