#but its not actually the thing you enjoy. its just something that i made about it because i also enjoy it

[lostinlovingrevery]

Logan and fluffy things I like to imagine with him. Part 2: electric boogaloo

logan has a soft spot for animals. He wont go absolutely out of his way i think to interact with them, but definitely has a mutual respect for them.

that being said, going for a walk with Logan, and a stray kitten comes up and absolutely WILL NOT leave logan alone. It adores him, screaming and climbing his pants. You of course insist on taking it home and logan grumbles over it but doesnt argue

cue all the moments of "dad who didnt want animal in first place" with logan as he treats it like his literally baby. Its young and still needs milk, and lots of tlc.

you wake up to him missing from bed one night, crawling out in search of him and finding him in the kitchen- babytalking and cooing the little itty bity baby kitten hes holding in his arm (imagine. Tiny kitten. Logans beefy arms. 😍) and bottle feeding it.

he gets so embarrassed when you catch him.

making him laugh. Like really. He's so stoic sometimes. hes sarcastic and has a smart mouth and really funny himself but not much gets him going

but you tell him a joke . or maybe a funny story of something that happened to you, or a funny limerick whatever okay

and he LAUGHS

its the first time you ever heard him laugh, probably the first time you ever made him laugh that wasn't a small chuckle (say you're still new to each other)

His laugh is just so warm and boisterous. It's a real peek into the kind of person Logan can be if he's in the right enviornment

that big cute smile, his low voice. that loud laugh. I mean honestly

making him laugh so hard he's crying and its uncontrollable

thats right baby girl

anyway

Logan loves listening to your heartbeat

lies on your chest and listens to it beat away. it's grounding to him, a reminder you're still here with him

Either with the X-men, or with Wades gang, Logan slowly opening up and becoming more comfortable with people- purely because YOU'RE there.

your presence reassures him so much

feeding each other

its natural too. You're just at breakfast, lunch, or dinner. you take a fork of your food, or maybe your french fries, or whatever and immediately hold it up to his mouth and he just eats it without question

Feeding him fruits, or chocolates, or a charcuterie spread AH *sigh*

Leading to having a picnic with him. He's a little unsure at first. I think depending on the logan you're picturing, or at least when you meet him, he may have points where he gets shy about dates and stuff

a picnic is one of those things. planning food and a blanket and all and it really does sound nice to him. Too nice. It feels unnatural to him and he doesn't know how to behave, maybe he doesn't think he deserves to do something so...domestic, and soft

you of course argue that "yes logan, you deserve to do picnics too."

Once you actually get him out though, he'll eventually relax, lying on the blanket, on a nice breezy yet sunny day under a large tree, arms crossed behind his head as you feed him grapes and strawberries and blueberries

"Yeah, okay, I could get use to this"

planning other dates with logan. for awhile it's something you take initiative of. But then Logan surprises you. He got you tickets to see a broadway show you've been talking about for months.

since then logan starts pulling his weight with planning dates. he always enjoyed the dates esp in the beginning. he just wasn't used to it, used to meaninglyess flings and lonelines. Sitting and trying to get to know each other was hard for logan bc he struggled opening up

for you tho he does

in a setting with the x-men, they all are amazed how easily logan trusts you. Even as just friends.

you do whatever to him and he just accepts it. He doesn't flinch. or scoff. or tell you to fuck off (sorry Scott. i know you were just asking for the salt). He'll give you his witty and sarcastic remarks but they tend to be a lot nicer and sweeter

he looks at you with a softness they're all confused by

well except jean and charles, they both see what's going on in his head. it's sweet actually

ororo actually picks up on it pretty quickly too

Scotts the one who's just confused but prob bc he gets the most abuse

sorry again scott

okay, not really a logan fluff relationship but honestly logan and scott becoming semi friends? I feel like hard feelings and annoyances aside, they could really get along. I don't know much about Scotts character but i feel like they're both men who can be great leaders and genuinely care about their people. Logan and Scott putting aside differences and going out for a guys night at a bar. Maybe some other X-men join to, but Scott and Logan talk a lot

Meanwhile you, Jean, Ororo, and a few other girls have a girls night

Logan opening up to Scott about how he feels about you (you're still friends at this point), he doesn't outright say that he's scared to make a move, mainly because he's scared of hurting you in more ways than one

Scott gives him a pep talk, male bonding. of course they end the night insulting each other but on the bright note they seem to come to an understanding

Logan is a very attentive boyfriend. He may act aloof sometimes but he notices EVERYTHING. Don't be surprised that your birthday and christmas gifts are always exactly the things you wanted even if you hadn't told anyone you wanted them.

You're teaching a class and logan stops by to give you something. He gives you a kiss in front of the class without thinking, and they're all "Oooooo"ing and "Aaaw"ing over it. Logan tells them to grow up, (They're 5th graders logan)

imagine shopping together, and logan picks out clothes he thinks would be cute on you. He finds a pretty sundress and practically demands you to get it. Of course you do. He ADORES you in that sundress. His hands are never off you when you wear it

It awakens something in him and he starts buying you pretty clothes he wants to see you in. He knows your size by heart, he knows what materials you like and what you hate, and the colors you despise on you (even tho he thinks you look good in everything)

Kissing each space of his hands where the claws come out. It's a gesture of love and trust. Logans scared of you doing it, afraid he'd somehow lose control but you reassure him. Now he loves it, and it truly makes him think that maybe he isn't such a monster if you could love him like that

You do his laundry for him. It's not like he asked you or that he doesn't keep the laundry up himself, you just do it, acts of service being your love language and he comes home and finds you did it and hes kinda shook because like...wow? being taken care of? it was so simply. its just laundry. But damn

Speaking of, doing laundry together.

I want to do laundry with Worst! Logan, we go to some 24 hour laundromat. maybe just neighbors but you've been flirting with each other, and consider each other good friends, the implication of something more. You're laughing and you guys have the place to yourselves. Logan feels safer than he has in a long time with you. Maybe share your first kiss, at 1 am in the laundromat.

I like to think about late nights in your study with Trilogy Logan, he hangs out with you, he already has trouble sleeping, and just loves your sweet company. Your conversations turn deep, maybe you had a recent mission that turned rough, and it literally turns into a love confession by Logan. You return the feelings, and he asks "Are you sure about me?", and you respond to him with an eager kiss, your arms embracing each other in the way those old romantic movies when they kiss (I use to be so grossed out by those and now I would love nothing more *dreamy sigh*)

I want to comfort Old Man Logan, maybe he had a really bad day, and disappears. You get Caliban to watch Charles for the night while you search for him, and you find him at a bar he usually frequents. Hes gruff but polite and tells you to go home and go to bed, but you urge him to come back with you. Eventually you get him to agree to at least come walk with you down the streets. He doesn't know how, but you draw out of him his worries, his fears - and they mainly revolve around you, this sweet little thing who came into this fucked up life of his. You reassure him that you wouldn't want to be anywhere else, and you end up kissing him. He's shocked you like an old man like him, but...he'll take what he can get.

I want to be 70s DOFP Logan friend first, hes a menace, and he has fallen hopelessly in love with you. Much to your obliviousness, you think he's still a Casanova out in the bars- but hes spending his nights thinking about you. One night he has enough, and rides on his motorcycle down in the pouring rain and thunderstorm. He's at your doorstep and you open the door to this sopping wet creature and the first thing he says "I'm in love with you." with water dripping down his face. Then he pulls you into a searing kiss. (im writing a fic about this btw)

With Future DOFP Logan, he would meet you, a new professor at the school, and he's quickly taken aback. After some quite hellish adventures he's been on, you were a fresh breath of air for him. You both fall into something of relationship without realizing it- because it came so naturally. It's only one day you're talking to him, outside on the patio and he's smiling softly listening to you and he leans forward and pecks you on the lips. you look at him in surprise, before grabbing his shirt and pulling him in for a real kiss

Origins! Logan takes you out on a romantic date, because he's classy like that. you share your first kiss over dinner, something sweet, and you could feel him smiling against your lips. He does it again after dinner, when he takes you home like a gentleman, you can feel his eagerness when he kisses you again, like he's trying to control himself, and he finally pulls away and wishes you goodnight (i mean, you're gonna have to invite him in)

97' Logan! He's giving you a pep talk after some bad shit went down on a mission, you feel like you could've done better, could've done more, even if everything you did do was enough. He's being unusually sweet and supportive and you leaned over and kissed him. You're surprised at yourself, but Logan isn't. He chuckles, telling you he gets it, he's irresistable, but then he kisses you again and can't stop (whos the irresistable one NOW Logan??)

I didn't mean for those to turn into first kisses prompts but enjoy. I have so many ideas of how first kisses with logan could go, these are just a few of many

pecking his cheek and his beard scratching your lips, but you actually really like how it feels

him rubbing and scratching his beard all over you to mess with you. It tickles but he's pinning you down and you're shrieking.

He keeps a picture of you on him at all times.

he loves hearing your stories. he wants to listen to you yap. he loves when you yap. even if it's useless stuff, the way you seem to enjoy and live life the way he never had before, he just can't get enough

helping him with his suit, you're zipping him up, but you press several kisses up his spine as you are zipping him. your lips sends shivers through him

helping him with a fancy suit. like suit and tie, (this would be cute for old man logan!). he's grumping and frumping about wearing it, but then you tell him how handsome he looks, and he smiles, and suddenly he's not so grumpy about it.

logan pressing soft kisses all over your face. bonus if it's after he hadn't seen you for awhile

okay but imagine after yall been together for awhile, maybe talking about getting a house together...

you guys "just look"

logan doesn't like anything. So he convinces charles to give him some land and goes and secretly builds a house for you. he recruits help from some others. he hires a designer to be able to get the parts he noticed you liked

you have NO idea. A year later, maybe 2, he brings you to it, and you're like "When did this house get here" and he tells you everything

logan definitely doesn't think things are "too much" when it comes to his devotion to you lets just say.

These are all i got for now! Keep an eye out for pt 3 :)

[darnell-la]

Hopefully not to gross. But, I just have been thinking about Logan forcing his cock down his girls throat but he’s so big and rough it makes her vomit. Then instantly going from rough to apologetic when she’s upset

note: PLEASE READ ^^ this is unlike any story we have posted before, and we’d like to make sure whoever reads this will not give any kind of complaints. Thank you!

———

“C’mere,” Logan grabbed a handful of y/n’a hair and pulled her into the bathroom. They had been arguing for what felt like hours in an empty hallway about the mission Logan almost blew because of the way another man touched y/n’s hip.

“Logan, we’re undercover — Shit happens!” Y/n shouted at the man, which instantly put her on her knees. “Don’t fucking care,” Logan growled between his teeth as he reached into his pants to pull himself out.

“Logan, we’re working-“ Before y/n could’ve finished her sentence, the man pushed through her lips. He wasn’t fully hard yet, but he was still hung. That was one good dangerous thing about him.

“You think you’d enjoy this if it was him? Huh!?” Logan asked as he snapped his hips, making sure all that came out of y/n’s mouth were moans and saliva that made its way down her jaw.

“Oh, and believe I’ll send you right back out there to him, looking just like this,” Logan said as he wiped across y/n’s face a few times, smearing her makeup until she started slapping his hands away.

“Now do you think he’ll still want you after seeing you like this? Huh? Huh!?” The man asked as he kept pounding into y/n’s mouth relentlessly.

“No, he won’t — Only I like you like this, Bub, and only I can fucking see you like this,” Logan said right as his cock twitch. As soon as he got fully hard down y/n’s throat, he couldn’t hold himself back.

Y/n slapped Y/n Logan’s lower stomach, trying to tell him that she couldn’t breathe and that he was too far down her mouth, but he wouldn’t put his thrusts to a halt.

“Right there,” Logan growled as he spilled into her mouth. It felt good for a while until y/n began to cough. Within seconds, everything came up, and out of her mouth.

Logan quickly pulled back, not knowing what happened first until he watched her vomit over the bathroom floor.

“Oh, shit,” Logan said as he got to his knees and put a hand on her back to comfort her in some way. The man shook as y/n got everything out that needed to come out.

“Fuck, y/n- I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking-“ Logan tried saying until he was pushed away. “Fuck off!” Y/n’s voice died halfway through her speaking. She could feel the slight pain, and taste of what she had just let out.

“Baby, I didn’t- Baby, I’m sorry,” Logan said as he got up and got a bunch of wipes from the cabinet that was in the fancy bathroom. “Are you okay? Babe, please speak to me — Tell me, are you okay?” Logan asked as he began cleaning the floor.

Y/n didn’t answer the man. She continued coughing to make sure everything was out of her system.

Tears filled Logan’s eyes, feeling like he had done something he could never come back from. “Baby, please — I’m so sorry,” Logan said as he grabbed y/n’s face softly to wipe her down and clean her up.

“I-I didn’t know you couldn’t take it — I was just- I was thinking of myself and thought you’d be okay, because we always go through, and I couldn’t think about another man on you, and I just-“

“Logan, shut up! Please, just- God, relax — I’ll be fine,” y/n grabbed some towels from Logan before pushing him away. “God, you’re just so fucking annoying,” was all y/n could say.

“I’m sorry,” Logan said, wanting to break down right then and there. Y/n looked at Logan, hoping he wasn’t actually crying, but he was. That instantly made her roll her eyes and pull him into a hug.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” Y/n said as she softly rubbed Logan’s back. Logan couldn't stop apologizing and bringing up how horrible of a person he was for not seeing the signs of her actual struggle, but she shut him down quick.

“Hey, I’m fine with you being rough — Just make sure it’s not after I eat ten deviled eggs,” y/n joked, making Logan let out a slight laugh, but he still didn’t feel too great.

“Let’s just go back to the hotel — He’ll be here tomorrow,”

[highly-important]

More Severance Thoughts/ Theories

I really enjoy this theory that Dieter was a story Kier made up in order to separate himself from his own actions that he felt ashamed of. That the innies are just the outies punching bags that take consequences and bear punishments.

But what I think about confusing about the Kier and Dieter story is, which is the Innie and which is the Outie?

We know that Helena sees the Innies as inhuman slaves, which would lend to the idea that Kier is the Outie. The Innies are basically the whipping boys of the Outies. Mark gets drunk and his Innie gets the hangover.

But we also see that the Innies are much "better" people than their Outies, (with the possible exception of Irving, who'se Outie we don't really know). The Innies are really the ones given a clean slate.

Isn't this more like Kier leaving his brother to become a part of nature, while Kier returns to the mills and factories?

So, although I've seen a lot of insane theories about Severance, I think it's probably really simple at it's core- severance is just a way of "purifying" a person. They detach themselves from the real world, and become more innocent "childlike" versions of themselves, tame their four tempers, and become something new.

I've said before about how the Alchemical process is a spiritual process of breaking away from worldly attachments and developing a higher consciousness.

In Alchemy, you take the four elements- earth, air, water, fire, and put them in a crucible with the fifth element- Aether, or luminiferous aether. (Lumon, get it?) The four elements correspond with the four tempers- woe, malice, dread, frolic.

In Alchemy, you "burn away" the old self, separate out the good and the bad, go through a process of death and rebirth, and distill the self into its most pure essence.

The Alchemical process has three main stages- the black stage, the white stage, and the red stage. In Alchemy, red would be associated with gold, and symbolizes alchemical success. (Think about how white, black, and red are major colors on this show, especially in the opening credits, and how red is used to symbolize knowledge.)

I think Severance also relates to protestant work eithic. The Innies basically exist just to work, and are meant to achieve some kind of spiritual growth through work.

To be clear, I think there are other things the tech can do, and different ways the Eagan family is using it.

I also think we are possibly seeing conflicts in Lumon between the pseudo-religious side, and the business side. Helena is on the business side, and thinks the religious side is a joke. Cobel is on the religious side. The business side is mostly interested in how this tech can make compliant workers.

Helena's dad doesn't like her and sees her as a failure. He may have made her get severed with the intent of actually "fixing" her in the process. That’s just a guess tho, I’m bad at predicting things

[aldaryan]

Jealousy

Day 1 : First Kiss - Elucien

For @sjmromanceweek

First time I write in English, that I post on Tumblr and that I write in ten years. Anyway, enjoy and do not hesitate to let me know what and how I should improve.

Summary : Elain's jealousy and repressed feelings lead her to an interesting path towards her mate.

A broken sound cut through the animated party. One by one, all the heads turned to the origin of it. There she was. Standing, hand bleeding slowly, Elain did not look like her actual composed self. 

Plop, plop, plop. 

A blink.

“Elain” murmured Nesta, shocked.  

The young female ignored her sister, taking small, controlled steps towards her goal, walking across glass shards. 

Crunk, crunk, crunk

A frown.

“Elain, what…” uttered Feyre, trying to grip her sister’s arm. 

Also ignored by the Cauldron-made fae, who gracefully side-step her to avoid being blocked. Elain, breathing heavily, finally stopped in front of a handsome red-headed male, overlooking the human queen gripping his arm. 

Woosh, woosh, woosh 

A snarl. 

Flicking away with her non-injured hand, the queen’s arm, Elain clutched the lapel of the green tunic, smearing her blood, a strange feeling of satisfaction within her. Leaving the sentiment to be examined later, she gripped harder at the tunic and the male wearing it well, and she dragged him to her gardens. 

Boom, boom boom

Boom, boom, BOOM

BOOM, BOOM, BOOM

She was drowning herself in the sound of Lucien’s heart? She did not stop until she got close to the Sidra river, far away from prying eyes.  

Reaching the bank, she abruptly turned back, colliding with her mate. 

Mine, miNE, MINE

The rage would not abate. 

He was hers. Hers. 

She dropped her head against the male’s chest, trying desperately to calm down. Even his lovely scent could not settle her. 

“What, in the Cauldron’s name, was that ?” said incredulously the redhead.  

She snarled at his tone, lifted her head and finally, finally she looked at his face.  His handsome, confused and stern face. 

She was so angry. At the Inner Circle, at that male and most of all at herself.  

“Well, are you going to say something? Or should we just listen to the sound of the river ?” grunted the fae. 

“Shut up !” He recoiled, almost taking a step back, only stopped by Elain’s hands, still clutching his tunic fiercely. “Shut up ! Shut up ! Shut up”

“Why don’t you try anymore ?” pursued Elain, still raging. “You take Emerie fishing and teach her how to survive in the wild. You spent entire afternoons with Gwyn at the library and even took the time to show Nesta some Autumn Court sword movements !”

She plowed on, a stormy inferno fueling her words. 

“And, of course, you see Feyre and Nyx ! And always when I am not there ! And let's not forget the days and nights you have with the firebird queen !”

“And Jurian, don’t forget,” added teasingly the male. 

Elain made a sound of disgust, ready to let go. 

“Elain,” he said softly, clinging to her hands, “Emerie, Gwyn and even Nesta, I helped them because yes, they are becoming my friends, but mostly because I could hear about you through them.” He twirled a strand of her hair, admiring its softness. “Nyx is lovely and Feyre is complicated and Vassa a friend. A friend who heard me talking about you, again and again.”

“Don’t you know it ? You are my favorite subject.” he smiled sadly. “I wish to see only you, to hear only you and to be only with you.”

“Lucien, I…” started Elain, but she let the words die on her lips. Instead, she stood on her tiptoe and she kissed him. She had dreamed of kissing for months but nothing could compare to the reality of kissing Lucien and to be kissed back. 

Passion, joy, tenderness. A strong undercurrent of desire. And the possibility of love. Everything they didn’t say for months, years was poured in that kiss. Finally, they separated, sharing a breath. 

“Lucien, I am sorry, I should have let you know sooner”  whispered Elain. “But I want to try, now.”

“You bossy little thing” muttered Lucien, nuzzling her nose. “We have years Elain. You will fall irrevocably in love with me and we will have a thousand years together.”

“Am I not the Seer, here ?” joked softly the fae female. 

“Mmm, but first I do not want to lose you to blood loss. Give me your hand, Elain.”

A shiver went through her at his authoritative tone. Lucien did not comment but his raised eyebrow and small smirk said it all. 

“Oh shut up.” huffed the browned eyed female, giving her bloodied hand. 

“Definitely the words of the night” joked Lucien, deposing a small kiss on her wrist. 

They both watched as the wounds closed, leaving no trace on her skin. 

“Elain?”

“Mmm?” she 

“Will you kiss me again or should I make you jealous first ?”

“You think you are funny” growled Elain. 

“I know I am and hands-” Lucien was not able to finish his thought since Elain kissed him again. But he didn’t mind. 

He didn’t mind at all.

[qoldenskies]

I like to imagine that after some time ccDonnie gets really into training with his bō and in training in general. He's such a solution orientated person I feel like it would get really unbearable for him to feel like he's the weakest and defenseless - after all isn't all of this his fault for being so dense that he could not tell that something was oh so obviously wrong with his brothers and for being so weak that he ended up getting so physically hurt? So really this is something he needs to fix again. Focusing too much on his tech has made him a liability and bad at reading his brothers, so he tries to balance tech and training more.

So I imagine that as an adult Donnie is quite a scary aggressive fighter - softshell turtles are quite aggressive in nature after all, precisely because of their softness - and appears quite distant and cold to outsiders. You would have to know him for quite some while and be really attentive to notice that at heart he is far more gentle mannered and soft, but the most important people in his life already know that.

Also!! I love it when in tmnt whump writers use turtle behaviours as therapy - like swimming being therapeutic. Maybe ccDonnie would also really enjoy swimming and letting his mind rest after all this?

I really liked the animatic!!!! And can't wait for the last chapter of cc! Sending love

honestly this is something i could see! combat is going to be a hard thing for donnie to go back to in particular even without his brothers because he's kind of conditioned himself to panic and do little, curl up in a ball and steel himself. and mixed with the final attack i think he's just going to have problems getting back into the environment and mindset

but like, when he does? i could definitely see some overcompensating going on. donnie gettting vicious out of fear of being helpless again. being triggered and seeing red, falling back hard on the urge to fight back that DID save his life. it stopped leo from slitting his throat and held raph off, really. its still frenzied and panicked but there's an edge of uncharacteristic anger there. he'd otherwise normally be very precise and tactical in his combat, and i do think it'd be a skill he would put a lot of focus on.

im unsure about socially though. i could see him giving off that energy because he would be quiet for SURE, and he always looks on edge and nervous (which can be interpreted as "fuck off" body language lmao) but donnie is hyperaware of other people and he always will be going forward. when he actually opens his mouth he'll be very appeasing, at first at least. i do think he'll be really nervous around new people and it'll make it hard for him to find new connections, but he'll actually be one of the better ones with that. leo will be nasty because of paranoia for a long time.

(also omg yeah i am a little envious because i would LOVE to meditate underwater ... just go under there for ages and chill ... need to project this urge onto him it sounds so calming)

[vandme12]

I'm so sorry you got a NSFW asked in your inbox from someone, So I'm here to give ya a completely Different prompt-to make up for the random NSFW prompt.

Prompt: Ronin popping in at random into visit his darling, expecting to take them out on a bloody date he's got in mind, only to find them watching a marathon of Puppybowls as serious as can be- as in cheering for their favorite puppy when they score, laughing at the puns, wearing either something blue or orange. That sort of thing. I would love to see what his reaction to this whole thing would be and if he joins in lol.

Thank you so much!

Bloody Plans and Puppy

Ronin had a plan.

A perfect, beautiful, bloody plan.

He had it all mapped out—sweep you off your feet, drag you into the night, and paint the town red. Maybe he’d take you to a nice rooftop where you could watch some poor bastard’s final moments together, or maybe he’d let you pick the target this time. Romantic, right?

Except—when he strolled into your apartment, all smug confidence and sharp edges—

You didn’t even notice.

No, you were too busy cheering.

For puppies.

Ronin stopped dead in his tracks, blinking at the scene before him like it was some bizarre hallucination. You, curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, eyes glued to the TV like it was the most intense thriller of the decade. Except instead of murder or mayhem—

It was a goddamn Puppy Bowl.

On screen, tiny, clumsy puppies in blue and orange bandanas were tumbling over each other, chasing around a mini football. The announcers were going wild, spewing dog-related puns at a machine-gun pace, and you—

You were into it.

Like, genuinely, seriously into it.

Ronin watched as you fist-pumped the air when a golden retriever pup barrelled into the end zone.

"YEAH! GO TEAM FLUFF!"

He blinked again. Slowly.

What. The. Hell.

"Babe." His voice was smooth, easy, as he strolled further inside, finally making his presence known.

You didn't even look away.

"Hey, Ronin," you said, voice distracted as your eyes flicked across the screen, laser-focused.

He raised a brow, waiting for you to acknowledge him properly, but instead, you just grabbed a handful of popcorn and shoved it in your mouth, nodding at the TV like some grizzled sports veteran analyzing the game.

"God, that Pomeranian's got no game sense," you muttered.

Ronin's lips twitched. Was this real?

"You're kidding me, right?" He flopped onto the couch next to you, propping his feet up, smirking. "You're skipping out on my very romantic murder plans for… this?"

You threw him a brief glance. "It's the Puppy Bowl."

"Right, and I'm the Pope. Babe, what the hell is a Puppy Bowl?"

You gasped like he just stabbed you in the heart.

"Oh my god, you don’t know??"

Ronin’s smirk widened. "Would I be askin’ if I did?"

You turned to him fully now, eyes wide with shock, hands gripping his jacket like you were about to tell him the meaning of life itself.

"It’s only the greatest event of the year."

He snorted. "Yeah? Thought that was our anniversary."

You rolled your eyes but didn’t let go of his jacket. "It’s a big, adorable football game where puppies ‘compete’ for the Lombarky Trophy."

Lombarky.

Oh, Jesus Christ.

Ronin blinked at you, expression unreadable. Then, after a long pause—

"You are… way too invested in this."

"And you are way too NOT invested!" You pointed aggressively at the screen. "Look at them. Look at their little tails! Their tiny, stubby legs! Their over-the-top replays!"

Just as you said it, the slow-mo cam caught a Labrador puppy tripping over its own paws and face-planting straight into the goal line. The dramatic replay made it look ten times funnier than it should have.

Ronin stared.

Then—he actually snorted.

You gasped. "See? SEE? You’re enjoying it!"

"That was one laugh." He smirked, but the way his eyes flicked back to the screen? Yeah, he was already hooked and didn’t even know it yet.

You grinned and grabbed his arm, pulling him in closer. "C’mon. Stay and watch with me."

"Babe, we had a date planned."

"Puppies first. Murder later."

His grin widened. "You’re lucky I love ya."

"Damn right."

Five minutes later, he was into it.

Like, way too into it.

"GO, YOU LITTLE FURRY BASTARD! GO!" Ronin shouted at the TV, gripping the armrest with white-knuckled intensity.

You cackled beside him as he leaned forward, eyes dead serious, watching a tiny dachshund sprint toward the end zone with all the power of an Olympian.

"If this pup doesn’t score, I’m personally takin’ out whoever rigged this game," he growled, narrowing his eyes.

"It’s not rigged!" you laughed.

"That Pomeranian’s been hoggin’ the damn ball all game. It’s clearly a setup."

You buried your face in your hands, laughing so hard your stomach hurt.

Ronin, meanwhile, looked like he was watching the Super Bowl. He was all in. When a tiny beagle got distracted mid-play and just started rolling around on the field, he let out a long, suffering sigh.

"No discipline. No strategy. This team’s a joke."

You nudged him. "They’re literally puppies."

"AND? If you’re gonna play, play to win."

"Oh my god."

And then—it happened.

The dachshund—Ronin’s guy—made a break for it, zooming across the field, dodging bigger puppies left and right. The announcers were going wild.

"LOOK AT THOSE LITTLE LEGS GO!"

"UNSTOPPABLE! A TRUE UNDERDOG STORY!"

Ronin leapt off the couch.

"HOLY SH—RUN, YOU LITTLE DEMON, RUN!"

The dachshund dove—DOVE—into the end zone, ball clenched in his tiny mouth. The crowd on TV erupted. The score updated. Touchdown.

Ronin fist-pumped the air.

"YES! THAT’S MY BOY! MVP! MVP!"

You were cry-laughing at this point, clutching your stomach. Ronin was actually invested. You never thought you’d see the day.

He collapsed back onto the couch, running a hand through his hair, exhilarated.

"Shit," he exhaled. "That was better than half the fights I’ve been in."

"Told you." You grinned.

He glanced at you, then at the screen, then back at you—before smirking. "Guess you got me, angel."

You leaned against him, pressing your face into his shoulder. "So does that mean… Puppy Bowl is a new tradition?"

He let out a dramatic sigh. "Guess so. But next year, I’m bettin’ on Team Ruff."

"Traitor."

"Competitive."

You laughed, and Ronin, despite all his chaos, all his darkness, found himself smiling.

Maybe, just maybe, he didn’t mind nights like this.

Even if it meant postponing a little murder.

For now.

[seewetter]

My first thought at hearing horror described as "a predatory force seeking out the exposed and vulnerable elements of society" made me think of a movie about a monster tormenting people who refuse to be vulnerable and at the end the "final girl" has vulnerability but must spend a highly uncomfortable eternity with the monster.

But then I realized that while that would make a good horror movie, it would just be the flip side of the coin of horror movie avoidance. The audience then simply gets "action movie"-like gratification where the victims have to open up and be vulnerable and laughs in schadenfreude when they fail at this task. It could be good horror, but it wouldn't challenge its target audience, who don't relate to the victims in the film. The audience would side with the monster, and watching the predation with a certain level of emotional detachment. "Ahaha, that frat bro couldn't show vulnerability, go get him". This could be a fun movie, but it's not a template for the appeal of horror. And people who don't want to be vulnerable in that particular way can become more entrenched in their mindset, because the film isn't just victimizing (people like) them, it mocks its victims, it addresses the audience as people superior to those victims.

If, say, a slasher movie features a bunch of frat bros who never open up to each other, this doesn't reflect real vulnerabilities of frat bros, who IRL do tell each other pretty harrowing stories and show emotional vulnerability in the right social setting -- the reason shitty men bully emotional or "weak" men in group settings is cishet patriarchal pecking order / violence. These guys do all these weak and emotional things all the time, just under the "right" pretense. So a horror film where frat bros are killed for being repressed kind of misses its mark as social criticism.

But even if the film killed frat bros or karens or other groups of privileged people who either repress something or hide a violent underbelly of their group, a challenging horror film walks a fine line.

Any horror film that simply *gives them what they deserve*, say a slasher film where frat bros die one-by-one as the monster seeks out guys who aren't, as prev put it "reduced to tears", is wish-fulfillment for an audience critical of frat bro culture. Like I'd get a kick out of it, I think such stories should be told and I'll watch at least a few of them, but I know deep down that I'm watching something that doesn't actually affect me. Don't misunderstand me: I don't think entertainment needs to be pure. I don't think it needs to teach valuable lessons. But since people above are discussing the kind of infantile mindset where someone basically doesn't like about horror the very thing that makes it horror (the helplessness) I can't but mention that to really get audiences to experience helplessness, you need *them* to actually feel helpless. So watching some Karen who totally deserves to get chopped to bits feel helpless ...only works if *you're* a Karen like that yourself -- and even then might not work if you rightfully(?) suspect this entertainment was made by other people to make fun of you or feel superior to you.

Schadenfreude (enjoying the damage others face) is absolutely a viable ingredient for entertainment: but absurdly, it's an ingredient for a feelgood movie. A morality play that preaches to the choir.

This is one reason why trans women and people with physical disfigurements have been so attentive to transmisogyny and ableism in horror. Because in both cases, the mainstream has been making feelgood movies where the monster is Other and people can feel superior to that form of otherness. They can pat themselves on the back for thinking that disfigurement makes someone monstrous or uncomfortable or undesireable or disgusting. A disfigured monster's body would not be half as ableist if it wasn't part of a sort of morality tale feelgood movie, where bad people get what they deserve and good people go rewarded. Giving the disfigured monster more sympathy effectively doesn't just muddle the ableism, but also muddles the predation and violence of the monster. Which won't really make sense to the audiences who wanted a morality play to feel better about themselves but also--- morality plays are a part of horror, but they are kind of like decaf coffee. It's horror without the helplessness of horror.

Even a film with an amoral ending, like Cabin in the Woods, is basically just defanged horror, it's an action comedy with horror tropes and weird sci-fi and fantasy elements. The amoral ending (just letting the world get destroyed) is cool and entertaining, but this is definitely a feelgood film.

If someone wants to make a film about unavoidable pain and suffering, then they can't shy away from actually inflicting that fictional pain and suffering on their fictional characters. And if that movie is meant to avoid the thing where wealthy suburbanites are victims of the murder doll or demon home invasion or whatever, if you want to show the vulnerability of homeless people for example...well then you can't shy away from portraying the futility of their attempts to get help.

Feelgood films (both the Action Horror movie and the Schadenfreude Morality Play) have their place in the world of storytelling and can say interesting things. But the impulse to always want "soft" horror is maybe partly due to how effective it can be, as a genre, to actually make people live through helplessness and unavoidable pain. I don't think the last type is more legitimate, but I do think, especially when it deals with marginalized pain or deals with privileged pain in a way that truly hits its mark, people will tend to not want to watch it.

It's not uniquely American for people to not want to get to close to this sort of pain. It seems like the product of neoliberalism: even the most victimized people in the poorest countries are told that what truly matters is their authenticity, their integrity. Labour is increasingly expendable, people can easily lose everything... and so they are being comforted with the idea that at least they *are themselves* (hence why I'm always trying to define being trans not as "who I am, who I truly am inside" and more in terms of "my freedom of association and self-definition is being taken from me, using biology as an excuse". When people want to *be themselves*, experiencing a story where they have to be vulnerable can be incredibly difficult.

I'm still not sure why rich people applauded "Parasite" -- did the film fail on some level, or did they shield themselves from the film's message -- and I can't say what the magic ingredients are to make a story impact its target audience. Parasite, though, is about poor people told from their perspective -- and rich folks are the Other. So maybe that explains its muted effect: Like that social media post about bullies at school cheering on Dumbo the elephant beating up his bullies. This is the story of Dumbo, audiences cheer Dumbo on because they like him. They aren't vulnerable to the critique of Dumbo or Parasite, because the hero isn't a bully like them. And bullies are fundamentally unsympathetic as characters. Audiences tend to want them to die.

I think a really psychologically effective horror film is one where the protagonists are people the audience relates to, who do bad things that the audience somewhat dislikes but can find understanding for and where the antagonist isn't a bringer of morality, but simply a force of destruction. Where the core defining aspect of the monster isn't how clearly it reflects some real-world problem, but how relentlessly it pursues its tastes or agenda. The monster(s) acts like a real-life problem in its horrific effects, but it isn't allegorical. Or at least not allegorical for an issue near and dear to the audience's heart. But I'm not sure how much horror can actually cause audience introspection. I don't think we can fully expect entertainment to hit the mark on that. People watch entertainment for the fun of it -- if someone wants entertainment to be transformative, they need to take notes from entertainment that appears to have a genuinely transformative effect (like "A Short Film About Killing" which supposedly ended the death penalty in Poland or "Jaws" which supposedly caused a temporary shark murder spree).

But regardless I think it makes sense to realize that horror films that make the audience feel smart for avoiding bad things and horror films that harrow the audience with inescapable horror are pandering to different desires and are, in a sense, different genres. If you know that, you have a better grasp on how to design your own stories or how to recommend stories you come in contact with.

people are so mean about horror movie victims like. sorry but if i had gone to a cabin in the woods with my friends as a teenager you couldn't have stopped us from reading aloud from the evil tome. how were they supposed to know the ancient curse was real they're like 17

[carpenoctxrn]

Confidence (Ominis x fem!reader)

Prompt: Ominis wants to ask out his crush (you) out to Hogsmeade. However, he feels overwhelmingly ill prepared. So he turns to Sebastian, his most trusted friend and the reason for his constant migraine.

AN: Its just cute Ominis tripping over his words. We love him.

Masterlist

"Hmm… I have to admit, Ominis, I didn't expect you to actually take the initiative to plan something." Sebastian smirked as he shut his Potions tome and tossed it onto the bed beside him.

Ominis frowned, arms crossing tightly. "I take initiative all the time, Sebastian. Your comment is completely unwarranted."

"I meant no harm, it’s just that you get so flustered around her, one might think you’ve been placed under the Imperius Curse. You barely move unless she wants you to; just standing there, nodding along like some enchanted statue, completely oblivious to the rest of the world." Sebastian’s smirk widened, thoroughly amused by how quickly Ominis bristled.

Ominis stiffened, grip tightening on the edge of his robe. "Will you help me or not?" His tone was clipped, irritation barely masked. If he let Sebastian continue, he'd be the one with the migraine soon enough.

I don’t get that flustered. He’s exaggerating.

Sebastian, however, chuckled knowingly. It wasn’t often that Ominis came to him for help usually, it was the other way around, with Sebastian begging for favors while Ominis rolled his eyes and reluctantly complied. In return, Sebastian would collect fresh potion ingredients for him and sneak in contraband books on literature and history.

But now? Now Ominis needed his expertise, and that made Sebastian’s ego swell just enough to ensure he was going to milk this for all it was worth.

"I’ll help you… on one condition." Sebastian leaned forward, clearly enjoying himself. "Admit that I am, without a doubt, the best dorm mate you could’ve ever asked for. And not that Weasley." His nose wrinkled in distaste as he recalled Ominis’ words from the previous night; something about how Garreth was a better dorm mate than him because, at the very least, his stupidity was contained to the occasional explosion.

That had stung. Not much, but enough.

Ominis huffed. "I will say it, and even mean it, if she agrees to go on that date with me."

Sebastian grinned. "Fair enough." He extended a hand, and Ominis clasped it, sealing the deal.

"Alright, first things first," Sebastian began, dropping back into his chair, "your plan is solid in its simplicity. What you lack, my dear friend, is confidence."

Ominis drew back, lips parting in offense. "I have confidence."

Sebastian shot him a pointed look. "Rule number one: you are not allowed to get offended when I point out areas that need improvement."

A heavy sigh. "Fine." Ominis grumbled, feeling as though he was quickly running out of options.

They moved to the study table, Sebastian rattling off various strategies, none of which seemed remotely useful to Ominis. And frankly, even Sebastian started to realize how impractical some of them were. A slow grin pulled at the corners of his lips as an idea struck.

"Forget all that, Ominis. The only tip you need?....Fake it till you make it."

-----

Ominis stood behind the girl he wanted to ask out, fingers curled tightly around the stems of the flowers he had carefully chosen. Their scent is soft, sweet, and fresh mixed with the crisp evening air. In the other hand, a bag from Honeydukes rested against his palm, filled with chocolates and candies he knew she was running low on, along with a few new varieties he thought she might enjoy. Thoughtful. Simple. Yet, as he hid them behind his back, they suddenly felt woefully inadequate.

She stood by the gardens next to the greenhouse, the glow of the setting sun casting golden highlights along her figure as she gazed out at the vast, rippling lake. A gentle breeze carried the scent of damp earth and blooming mallowsweet, mingling with the distant salt of the water. Ominis could feel the evening sun warming his face, the rest of him shielded beneath his robes.

Should I have changed?

His fingers twitched against the wrinkled fabric of his sleeve. He hadn't thought to freshen up, and now, standing here in the presence of someone so effortlessly lovely, doubt clawed at him. I probably look awful. Damn you, Sebastian.

Before his thoughts could spiral further, she turned toward him.

"Good evening, Ominis."

Her voice, warm and lilting, carried a softness that made his chest tighten. He could hear the smile in her words, the kind that wrinkled her nose and made her eyes glimmer. The same smile that, on more than one occasion, had rendered him utterly useless in conversation.

Ominis knew she liked him. He wasn’t oblivious, well not entirely. He had proof, after all. He had overheard Poppy, Imelda, Natty, and her discussing their ideal Yule Ball dates in the Great Hall one afternoon.

“I want someone poised, someone who looks put together,” she had mused, her voice thoughtful as she nibbled on a piece of fruit.

Ominis, seated behind her with his tome open, had pretended to read. In reality, he had been using his wand to subtly amplify their voices, a trick he had discovered by accident but employed more often than he cared to admit.

“You forgot to add that he has to be a Gaunt and blind, too,” Imelda had teased.

The girl had immediately elbowed her, a huff of protest leaving her lips before she glanced back; perhaps to check if Ominis had overheard. He had, of course. But he had kept his head bowed, feigning deep concentration over his book. Meanwhile, across the table, Sebastian had watched him with blatant amusement, no doubt wondering why in Merlin’s name Ominis was turning red while supposedly reading Potions notes.

Now, standing in front of her, Ominis took a steadying breath, forcing Sebastian’s words to the forefront of his mind.

Fake it till you make it.

He had faked emotions before. Confidence, too. It was a survival skill in his household. But here–now—he wasn’t sure he could fake anything. Not when her scent of mallowsweet and vanilla wrapped around him, not when her warmth radiated so closely, drawing him in like a beacon.

"Good evening," he greeted, keeping his tone even. "How was your day?" It was routine between them, an effortless exchange they shared daily.

She hummed thoughtfully. "Nothing new happened, but I suppose that's a blessing compared to having to battle an entire battalion of goblins."

There was amusement in her voice, but Ominis still winced. He remembered that day far too well; oh the chaos, the confusion, the distant sounds of battle echoing through the castle walls. He had been in the Great Hall with the other students, unable to do anything but listen. He had gripped his wand so tightly that his knuckles ached, mind racing with fear for her safety. It had been a startling realization— how much he cared for her, how much the thought of losing her had shaken him.

And now, standing here, trying to gather the courage to ask her out, that fear clawed at him again. But for an entirely different reason.

Ominis took a measured step back, clearing his throat as he steadied himself. His fingers tightened around the flowers and Honeydukes bag, hidden behind his back like a schoolboy concealing a poorly written essay. The scent of mallowsweet and vanilla drifted between them, further unraveling his composure. He could do this. He just had to fake it till he made it.

"I would like to ask you a question," he began, his voice carefully serious. "And please, feel free to be honest. Actually… I hope you will be honest."

His blind eyes found her, his posture straightening as if that alone could reinforce his resolve.

She tilted her head slightly, amusement dancing in her voice. "You can ask me anything, Ominis," she assured him gently. "And I promise, I will only tell you the truth. You have my word."

Emboldened by her reassurance, he exhaled and extended his hands toward her, finally revealing the gifts he'd been clutching. A bouquet of fresh flowers, fragrant, vibrant, delicate. And a small bag from Honeydukes, filled with chocolates and sweets he knew she liked, including a few new treats he hoped she would enjoy.

Her breath hitched, eyes widening as an involuntary gasp left her lips. "Ominis—"

But before she could speak further, he launched into his well-rehearsed speech.

"I have always admired your strength, generosity, and kindness from afar. And now…" He lifted his chin slightly, feigning unwavering confidence. "I would like to admire you up close. Will you allow me to take you to Hogsmeade on a date?"

The silence that followed nearly shattered his resolve.

His heart pounded in his chest, dreading the inevitable rejection. He braced himself for a polite letdown, his fingers already beginning to tighten around the bag in preparation to retreat.

"Ominis…" she started softly.

Here it comes.

"…Yes. I’d love that."

The breath he had been unknowingly holding escaped in a rush.

For a fleeting moment, relief flooded through him, washing away every ounce of doubt. A smile tugged at his lips, warmth creeping up his neck and burning his cheeks. But then—just as quickly, he remembered Sebastian’s words.

Fake the confidence.

Right. Confidence. He had to double down. He cleared his throat, shifting slightly as he tried to mask his overwhelming joy with what he thought was casual self-assurance.

"Of course," he said, waving a dismissive hand. "Anyone would be lucky to be courted by a Gaunt."

The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them.

She raised an eyebrow, lips pressing together in amusement. "Oh? Is that so?"

Realizing how arrogant that sounded, he panicked. "Especially someone like you!" he blurted out, scrambling to fix it.

Her expression shifted. "Especially someone like… me?" There was a warning in her tone, one that sent his nerves into a complete frenzy.

"No! I didn’t mean it like that!" he exclaimed, suddenly feeling like he was drowning in his own words.

She crossed her arms, clearly enjoying his distress. "Then how did you mean it?"

His brain betrayed him, throwing every logical escape out the window. "I meant that… well, it only makes sense for you to say yes… because it’s me."

There was a pause. Then, she let out a soft chuckle. "Oh, really?"

Why did I say that? Merlin, strike me down.

Ominis groaned internally, scrambling for recovery. "I just—what I meant was—you and I—" He sighed, shoulders slumping in surrender. "I’m making an absolute fool of myself, aren’t I?"

Her laughter was soft but genuine, and it made his stomach flip. "A little," she admitted, stepping closer. "But it’s alright. I know what you meant."

He swallowed, grateful she was choosing to be kind rather than completely obliterate what was left of his dignity. "You do?"

She nodded, reaching out to gently take the flowers from his hands. "I do." A smile, warm and reassuring. "And I still want to go on that date with you, even if you manage to dig yourself an even bigger hole before then."

Ominis huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "At this rate, I might just disappear into the ground entirely."

"Well," she teased, looping her arm through his. "I suppose I'll just have to pull you out, then."

His breath caught. He was certain now, no amount of faked confidence could compare to how she made him feel.

-----

The end!

@princesspinkss the scream request shall eventually be posted. After I am done with my microbio exam or possibly sooner.

and dividers by @pommecita

Masterlist

[fakeagatha]

Mrs Fletcher | Prof!Eve Fletcher x Fem!Reader | Chapter Six: Sore Tongue

Summary: Eve shows up to the university with an unexpected change.

A/N: This is probably the longest chapter I've written so far, even though the word count isn't that high. I'm quite proud of myself for posting another chapter so soon after chapter five! Anyway, please enjoy.

Warnings: Implied NSFW, Needles?, Alcohol

Word Count: 2022

AAA Community

Divine Headcanon Generator

Two days after your "date" with Eve, Monday had made its return and you were heading to leave for class. You didn't feel like it, but honestly, you never do. Checking through some of your books, double checking that your diary was on your desk where it should be, you zipped up your bag and grabbed a couple of pens from your desk.

You felt lucky having a single dorm. It could occasionally get lonely, but at the same time, you were free. You could do whatever you wanted without being watched over, and decorated how you wished, hence to why you had a section of your wall dedicated to pictures. You would stand there and look at them often. Your parents, some pictures with Steve, some of your cousins, but you would linger on a picture of you and your ex girlfriend in the middle, Haley, in the dorm you shared in college. You wanted to forget about her, maybe to feel less guilty about everything, but it wasn't easy.

You shook your head, and left the room, walking to your first class: Latin, an extra class you had chosen to take. It wasn't too far from the dorms, luckily enough. As you entered the floor the class was on, Mrs Fletcher suddenly bumped into you as she was coming out from one of the staff bathrooms.

"Mrs Fletcher! Good morning, sorry for bumping into you." You chuckled, looking up at her, wearing that cute pair of glasses you thought suited her face perfectly.

"Hey Y/N," She replied, and her voice sounded a bit strange. As you spoke, you noticed something. You weren't trying to be creepy by taking a glance into her mouth, you just noticed it from the corner of your eye. Your eyes quickly darted back down to look at her mouth once again just before she managed to close it, trying to confirm what you thought you had just noticed. And it fucking was.

"Mrs Fletcher, what's that?"

Her eyes widened, "No'hing?"

"... No way." You gasped. "Mrs Fletcher, open your mouth."

Eve tilted her head downwards, trying to block your view, "Why?"

"You aren't fooling me!"

Eve couldn't help but smirk at you, looking away sheepishly at having been caught.

"You got a fucking tongue piercing."

Eve laughed a little, "hey, 'anguage!" She warned, playfully sticking out her slightly redder and swollen tongue, with a long silver bar. "I got a 'ittle 'ealous of your eye'row." She pointed to your piercing, which you actually forget is there because of how long you've had it. "I wa' fee'ing... rebe'ious. Go' i' done after our coffee. I wa' very swollen yester'ay, I'm jus' surprised I 'an speak a'ready!"

You couldn't help but smile like an idiot, who would've thought that your 45 year old professor would get a tongue piercing, of all things?

"Speak? I'm only just barely understanding you miss. How are you going to teach your classes?" You chuckle, "Are you even allowed to have a tongue piercing?"

Eve grinned, clanking the jewelry against the back of her teeth, "I don' know, an' proba'y not.

"Is that why you said you had somewhere to be on Saturday? You realized you were going to be late for your appointment?" You giggled, looking at her in amusement every time she spoke.

"Yah! I go' there late!" She exclaimed, making you laugh again, a sound Eve actually loved hearing. "I' was very scary, I don' like need'es."

You bit your lip, "That looks so painful though, I didn't take you for someone to do through with a tongue piercing." You joked, making Eve chuckle and nod in response.

As Eve tried to ramble on about how nervous she was, almost oversharing the nervous poop she had beforehand, you cut her off, "I don't want you to irritate it, why don't you tell me all about it tomorrow so you don't accidentally hurt yourself?" You offered, and Eve couldn't help but blush at your consideration. She nodded, poking her tongue out one final time before heading down the hallway.

Well, that just might have been the hottest thing you had seen in a while, and certainly NOT what you expected at 9am on a Monday morning.

Steve sneaked up behind you, attempting to scare you as if you hadn't already noticed him. He frowned in disappointment, and you put your finger to your lips.

"Don't go telling everyone but... If you, hypothetically, had to guess where Mrs Fletcher would choose to get a piercing, where do you think it would be?"

He looked at you in confusion, before smirking. "Definitely, her ni-"

"Don't."

"Fine. I don't know, her nostril or something?" He shrugged, and you shook your head.

"Tongue."

"Ouch, but-" His eyes widened in realization, looking at you for confirmation, "She didn't, there's no way, you're pranking me. I don't know why you'd choose that for a prank, it's a little weird-"

"Steve, I'm not joking."

He looked at you in silence, almost as if contemplating whether to believe you or not. "For real?"

"For real."

He started to laugh, and you joined in. It was so random, and any other person wouldn't believe you. Everyone knows that Mrs Fletcher is innocent (on the outside), and no one would imagine, not even in one hundred years, that she would do something so insane as a tongue piercing, especially since she once shared with one of her classes that she cried at 38 years old because she had to have blood drawn.

"Okay, I got to get to class, we'll talk later." You waved goodbye, and Steve headed into the opposite direction.

The rest of your classes went by pretty smoothly. Everyone seemed to be in a good mood, which was unusual. Normally you have to deal with at least one snarky comment or insult a day, whether it be from a classmate, or Mrs Evanora. Before leaving, you popped your head into Eve's open office door.

"See you tomorrow, Mrs Fletcher." You smiled, and she gave you a kind wave, indicating she probably couldn't really speak.

Eve finished her own work about an hour later, and took the drive back to her house, the thought of her bed being very irresistible.

She pulled up outside, and took a few minutes to water her flowers, admiring the rose bush that had started to bloom. She went inside and quickly replaced her work heels with a pair of slippers that were way too big for her.

She made her way to the bathroom, and swished some cold water through her mouth to soothe her tongue, unable to stop checking herself out in the mirror every now and then, making ridiculous poses, fantasizing herself as a tongue model. Wait, did those even exist?

She quickly changed into a gray tank top with some shorts, and got into bed. She opened up her laptop, and couldn't resist browsing online, looking at some things she probably wouldn't want anyone to know she was watching.

Sleep eventually overtook her, as she went into a slumber she so desperately needed, even though her day wasn't as tiring as it sometimes was. And, as if no time at all had passed, she woke up to her alarm blaring into her eardrums.

17:56

'How and when did two hours pass?'

Testing her speech, Eve found herself being able to talk again, to a comprehensible point at least, so after a brief phone call and her voice still groggy, she changed into a bikini with a plain black dress on top to head over to Amanda's house to relax in her jacuzzi for the evening.

Even at the last minute, Amanda was rarely busy in the evenings and was always open to a meet up, even if it's just for a chat. Eve doesn't understand how she does it, but she admires it, a little jealous of her social battery and availability, even.

It was already dark out as she stepped into her car, regretting not taking a jacket beforehand even though it wasn't that cold, but she really couldn't be bothered to go back inside to get one. She started the engine and turned up the heat a little bit, just to warm up the vehicle.

The drive to Amanda's was only around ten minutes, since she didn't live too far away from Eve, making it convenient to have wine nights together. She knocked on the door, pulling her friend into a hug upon greeting each other.

"Come in, mind turning on the jacuzzi? I'll bring us some wine." Amanda grinned, heading into the kitchen. Eve nodded, walking to the balcony window and stepping into Amanda's back yard. Despite the fact that the woman lived alone, her house was quite big, hence the big outdoor space.

Eve looked towards the side of the jacuzzi, and turned it on, watching as the bubbles began to form. She stripped herself from her dress and took off her heels, stepping into the warm bubbly water, letting out a sigh at the warmth which replaced the cold evening air on her skin.

Amanda came outside a few moments later, a bottle of wine, two glasses and a bowl of Cheez Its in her hands. Eve quickly stepped back out to help her, "You're going to drop something!" She mused.

"I don't like having to take multiple trips. If my hands can carry them, I carry them." Amanda replied, smirking, and Eve rolled her eyes as she helped her place everything onto the the jacuzzi wall.

They stepped back in together, and Amanda made a similar sound of pleasure at the warm water.

Anything new at the senior home?" She inquired, and Amanda shrugged,

"Poor Shirley had a fall, which startled Brenda so much she had a heart attack." Amanda sighed, looking almost unfazed.

"That's..." Eve froze, looking up at her friend with wide eyes, "Tragic?"

Amanda laughed, nodding, swaying her hand through the water.

"Why don't you come work full time at the university instead? If you'd prefer?" Eve suggested, sliding over to sit next to her.

"I don't think I'd work full time stocking up the library, the old people are way more interesting. Unless it completely shuts down, I'll stick with part time at the uni." She she shrugged, and the woman next to her nodded in understanding. "Besides, what's going on with that teacher's pet of yours?" Amanda teased, and Eve shoved her.

"Don't say that." She laughed, "But... She might have treated me to a coffee, or well, tried to. I paid for her when she wasn't looking."

Amanda's jaw dropped, setting her wine glass down to cover her mouth. "What?!" 

Eve nodded, giggling. "Yeah, I was there with some coworkers and she was having lunch with her friend behind us, and as I was about to leave, she asked me to stay for another drink." She explained further, making Amanda look even more excited with every word.

"Are you living in a book or something?" 

"I think I might be."

Amanda smirked at her, moving her arms to rest them on the wall, before wincing.

 "Ugh, my hand is still bruised because of you." She groaned, and Eve put her own hands up in defense.

"Hey, you offered!"

"Yeah, to distract you from the pain, you started squeezing the life out of my hand before the needle even reached you!"

"Okay but still, it was so worth it." Eve stuck her tongue out for emphasis, showing off the jewelry.

"The swelling has gone down so much!" Amanda exclaimed in surprise, making Eve nod excitedly.

"Yeah, before you know it, I can change it to that vibrating jewelry I found on Etsy last week-"

"Eve!"

"Sorry!"

Amanda shook her head, sighing, "What did she think of it?"

Eve's cheeks reddened, giving her a smirk. "Oh, she noticed immediately. Before anyone else did. I know I shouldn't have it in the working environment, so I am a little worried now..."

Amanda clicked her tongue, looking towards Eve's mouth again, "Well, if anyone calls you out, say they're a pervert for looking there."

"At my tongue?" She laughed, and the other woman nodded.

"Yes!"

Eve rolled her eyes at her antics, listening as she randomly began to talk about some of the trash she had to clean up at the university library, even though it wasn't part of her job. The night went on, and it didn't take long for the pair of them to become tipsy on a single bottle of wine.

[kanerallels]

(rant incoming)

[perilegs]

i know astrology is fake but i'm not too keen on how a lot of people on this website seem to be clowning on it as a hobby a bit too hard. i swear the woman who thinks it's neat how she and her friends with the same sun sign are all similar isn't trying to say that you are who you are born as and there is nothing you can do to change it. it's a hobby. an interest. what happened to finding meaning and joy in the small things. does it affect you if someone enjoys tarot reading or crystals. does it make you upset someone has interests that they enjoy.

[hellofastudysession]

am i rlly going to write a death note literary analysis when i could be doing other things

about the discourse going on in the tag abt "death note is acab and thats why the characters couldnt better the world with the note (/written in somewhat jokey matter)" vs "death note is trying to say we all have potential for evil, especially if you get a chance to insta-hurt ppl without repercussions, and it doesnt matter if youre a cop or not", i personally feel like it ignores the things that i like abt death note, which is "both of these things are true", and simultaneously "both of these things do not matter". the first part of this is dedicated to the first point, the latter to the last.

first point. i think its an important part of the message and themes (unintentional or not, and i lean on the former because... come on, can you really say the author intended you to not think of the cops as good people, at least compared to light and l) that light is a cops son, and that almost everyone who gets the death note is cop adjacent/thinks like a cop and is already corrupt/powerful when they get it (mello raised to think hed be just like l, yotsuba group is self explanatory; you cannot look me in the eyes and tell me teru "churchill" mikami, who was hand selected by light out of a bunch of rabid kira supporters, is a normal citizen). i appreciated the cop post bc its rlly important to not gloss over that aspect.

all of this would be an argument for "only someone like them would do something like this, and i am not like them, so im above them and immune to thinking about what id do with it", but... misa is the MOST important outlier in all of this bc her murders are solely selfish in nature and shes not doing any of this for "the greater good"!!! her nature of being an exception and still a very very bad person is really really important...

or it would be if death note gave a shit about her character at all!!! im not talking about her tragic side, im talking about exploring the ramifications of her killing people the way lights murders are (somewhat) explored. that would strengthen the message greatly! but shes dismissed and that weakens it overall. firstly, she's dismissed by the characters when l only sees her as a way to get to kira and basically shelves her the rest of the time. secondly, shes dismissed by the narrative when her character is gradually ground down to a stump and (not to sound perilously close to the bad takes ppl meme about) she never faces repercussions for her actions. every other character using the death note is treated relatively seriously, but misa just dies bc her love is dead. im not saying this isnt a... fitting punishment or that it isnt in character, but it doesnt fit snugly into the theme other people are talking about of "you reap what you sow" at all.

we do have something of an equivalent to misa's grayscale motives. surprise surprise, its light yagami. first is light's characterization in the musical (i will also note that misa never kills anyone in the musical). light's thinking is coplike, yes — he literally starts his first song by talking about "throw[ing] away the key" — but also, oddly enough, could be read as progressive and therefore sympathetic to tumblr ("let the corporations make the regulations / and hold no one accountable when everything gets wrong / let the rich and famous get away with murder / every time a high-priced mouthpiece starts to talk, his client gets to walk"). compare to the anime and manga, where his bigotry and pride and disgust come from a place of lukewarm dissatisfaction and boredom. the musical has much less time to play around with lights character, so it gives the audience something to immediately hook on. more on how that actually plays out later.

in the animanga, none of this is justified from the start. animanga light could say he was just killing people to make humanity way, way worse, and that wouldnt matter, because at the root of it, it was always his boredom that made him pick up the note. of course he actually believes in justice and believes hes doing the right thing (no, he believes he's doing the wrong thing, for the sake of the world... the right thing, because he is god...), but it was boredom at the start. all animanga light says about justice and righteousness and the law is a front in the end, bc he is exactly like l and misa — amoral. selfish. searching for entertainment. hedonistic. we know this. he kills naomi misora*. he kills lind l. turner. everything hes saying deserves to be dismissed from the beginning.

"but doesnt that mean you agree with the discourse post you wrote this post to argue against?" like i said, i agree with both of them! but i... still think its not right to reduce death note to the message of "the power to kill people is bad". because that is not exactly what the story is saying, even though that's literally its whole plot and therefore reaching that conclusion is self explanatory (lmao). let's look at the concept of mu. nothingness. "there's no heaven or hell". The Real Slay The Princess (Death Note Essay) Starts Here.

in light's final moments in the death note manga, while screaming about not wanting to die, he remembers that the first day they met, ryuk told light that "there's no heaven or hell. no matter what they do in life, all people go to the same place. all humans are equal in death". it is retroactively revealed that light knew this the whole time, operated under this knowledge for all the years we watched him — the knowledge that nothing he does is actually bad, that nothing any human does is actually bad, that shinigami are not "evil", that the universe does not care. that no one cares except humans. this oblivion absolutely terrifies him more than anything anyone could ever do to him. its what he thinks of before anything else as he flails there, screaming, dying. one could say everything he does after that day is him trying to escape that fact, or wrest control over it. but it doesnt work.

here are the lyrics of requiem, the musical's final song, sung over the bodies of l and musical light, a light who was at least somewhat good-intentioned at first: "sleep now, here among your choices / then fade away / hear how the world rejoices / shades of gray / gone who was right or wrong / who was weak or strong / nothing left to learn". this is the final message the death note musical and the manga chose to leave us with. there is no judgement. even after all that acknowledged hurt, after all the damage done, there is no judgement.

in the manga and anime alike, the world is just as fucked when light picks up the death note as when he dies. sure, we as readers can guess otherwise logically (and be optimistic, believing the world was never fucked regardless), but that's not what death note wants you to think. it ends with matsuda and another member of the task force noting how the world is worse again even though they killed kira (matsuda is clearly much worse for wear, but still determined), we see the shitty motorcycle band again, it ends with misa and a whole kira cult on a mountain even though kira died a long time ago...

its extremely important that light is never killed by any human or any aspect of the law. he is always killed by ryuk: a chaotic force completely detached from human sensibilities, one that does not care about good and evil. same with l; in the anime, manga, and musical, he is always killed by rems senseless, morally gray love (and you could argue in the kdrama that hes killed by love there too lol). justice is just a set dressing.

this is not just because death note is a tragedy, because good and evil can still matter in a tragedy. the theme of "nothingness" and "good and evil doesnt matter here" is also shown in a situation relatively unrelated to light winning or losing, or being good or bad. and its in fucking lawlight of all things. we all know ls not a good person. we know lights not a good person. this is tip of the iceberg death note knowledge. but the moment they start to interact, none of that starts to matter. textually, their relationship becomes more important than the people theyve killed and hurt. and the thing is? the thing is? THAT WORKS STORY-WISE. THAT'S ENTERTAINING. AND IT'S NEVER TEXTUALLY CALLED OUT IN A LASTING WAY. l and lights relationship, no matter how much i meme it, is genuinely important to the themes and "mu" because it makes it clear that despite all the pretensions, despite everything, this was never about good and evil. and it still works in the story. this is why death note is simultaneously a comedy — isn't the battle of good and evil supposed to matter more? well, fine, i'll keep watching this anyway. that suspension of disbelief comes crashing down the moment l dies, though, and a relationship built on nothingness (the "mu" sort, meaninglessness, not "character development" nothingness, theres plenty of character development) gives way to just nothingness (again, "mu", not light's post-l depression nothingness), forever.

(an aside: there is no one to root for in death note, and the only things to root for are either interesting character relationships, convoluted plots, or complete and total destruction: for everything to end so no more damage is done.)

not to say that death note does not encourage its readers to consider what damage they might do with the death note (obviously.), or that its characters never do. look at matsuda, a much easier heroic figure to latch on to than soichiro because of his unique place in the cast dynamic and because he's willing to consider both sides of the situation and kill light instantly for all he's done. its just that the story's own stance on the subject is... complicated by the existence of shinigami worldviews and by its own insistence that the world cannot change for the better.

also, this is not to say that this is executed well by the death note manga at all. it is a very strong tool, artistically, to establish and then violently remove any emotional connections between characters and make your story only about the exceedingly convoluted lengths characters go to to survive and catch each other so the reader can realize how ultimately pointless all of this is, but like... is that a good story choice if that's all you do? i would say not really. add in a good dollop of misogyny that destroys the second-to-last character who might actually be an interesting contrast to the rest of the cast's dull one-track focus on winning and justice, and youve got yourself a shitty story that... honestly still achieves what it went out to do, just not in a way id ever want to replicate.

anyway, back to the parts death note's actually trying to say. no matter what any human does in their life, no matter how they try to hurt or help the world, they all die in the end. hey, light, they all die in the end. once dead, they can never come back to life. and the seasons turn. and the world rejoices. and you say "goodbye"...

that's all.

no analysis of death notes overarching theme would be complete without nears final monologue, the definitive roast of light, the "you're just a murderer" speech: "what is right from wrong? what is good from evil? nobody can truly distinguish between them. even if there is a god." if we take this as talking about the actual god in the room (ryuk) as well as light, then near admits that humans will never be able to withstand these overwhelming forces and that, using justice and happiness and selfishness, they are just scrabbling to find meaning in things they ultimately have no control over.

but of course, near does not stop there. "[...] even then i'd stop and think for myself. i'd decide for myself whether his teachings are right and wrong." nears alright with not having control over everything, because near can still control nears own actions. these forces can and do exist, but they have no sway over nears own humanity — unlike light, who caved.

one of the creators of death note said they believe its message is "life is short, so everyone should do their best". the first time i learned this, i was like, thats... nice and optimistic, but an awful reading of the story! "life is short, so everyone should be desperate and striving like light yagami", who literally cut off other ppls lives for his own life? what character in death note are we supposed to strive towards when we "do our best"? they all do awful things with their lives! honestly, maybe they shouldnt have tried their best, if this is what their best is!

but with the view of "mu"... it makes a bit more sense. just a little. maybe.

there is no good and evil. there is only what humans think, and no matter what we do, we all die in the end. it is easy to be crushed and terrified by this in the same way light is, but what is more important than justice and righteousness and finding meaning is... doing your best. not being a person that hurts others too much. not letting yourself get swallowed up by an ideal. not going too far. and simultaneously, trusting yourself.

it leaves a few questions, though... was the currently dead l even a little bit right about his blatantly amoral approach, then? was there a point to this pain, and me slogging through this dumbass manga, and all the people that have lost their lives to a selfish teenage cop's son and the whims of everyone chasing after him? was there a point to any of this...?

the manga** never answers this. it stays clinically impartial until the very end. the musical is anything but clinically impartial (and i love it so much for that), and its ryuk that has the last word.

"there's no point at all."

of course theres no point. none of this was ever supposed to happen. that is what matters more than all the hurt and the crimes and the pain.

and that's... actually okay, because it's over now.

yes, death note has many really important themes present in its story, but its viewpoint is nihilism first and foremost. thats why its so fun and easy to play around with all the other messages, because no matter what fun or torment or awful things or righteous justice or absolute nothingness or sentimentality happens in between, there is always an end.

there is always the end.

[maraschinotopped]

undertale yellow. clutches head in anguish.

[maplegyu]

Went into this with no expectations! I just saw the tropes and summary and was like ooohhh i love all of these! I ended up rly loving the story and enjoying my read!!!

Your fingers tightened around the glass. Without thinking, you poured yourself another shot—your third, or was it the fourth? You weren’t keeping track anymore.

Mingyu let out a small chuckle, and that was it—you tipped your head back and downed the drink in one go.

Your chest tightened. Mingyu was your closest friend. Your partner for everything. The one you laughed with, teased, leaned on. Seeing her in that space, acting like she belonged, made your skin crawl. You probably were just overreacting- and yet, you just kept drinking.

Loved loved loved how this was written!!! I could really feel how reader was clinging onto the alcohol like a lifeline! The more it felt like Mingyu would be slipping through her fingers the harder she tried to be grounded by something else!

God, you were so hopelessly in love with him.

I GET U READER I WOULD BE TOO He's such a gentleman and he's sooo in tune with her feelings WHO WOULDNT FALL IN LOVE W KIM MINGYU

Of course, it wasn’t a big deal to him. But to you? It was everything. Every single thing.

GOD I CAN ONLY IMAGINE HOW MUCH THIS HURTS its like ur breaking ur own heart bc the feeling is like!! WHAT RIGHT DO I HAVE TO FEEL THIS WAY???!! i get u reader i rly get uuuu BUT UR FEELINGS ARE REAL AND VALID 😭 the hoping and yearning wow wow wow

I loved the imagery of the writing so much!!! Especially the scene outside the restaurant!!! Felt so immersed in the story and in very few scenes was already familiar with how close reader and Mingyu are and their feelings for each other.

BUT THE MORNING AFTER SCENE OH MY GOD???!?! CHEEKY MINGYU AAAAHHHHHHHHH

ON GOD!!! I AM NOT OVER THE IMAGE OF JUST WOKEN UP MINGYU, RASPY VOICE, REACHING OUT FOR READER... SMIRKING!!!!!! who wouldnt want to wake up next to this man for the rest of their lives?!

"Oh, this is fun," - im sorry. I WANT HIM SO BAD. Mingyu being a tease and being cheeky... I LOVE THIS KIND OF MINGYU GENUINELY LIKE SOME OF MY FAVORITE MINGYU TO READ!!!!!

YES HE DID BECAUSE PERHAPS!!!! HE IS IN LOVE WITH U ALSO DEAR READER?! 💘

“I know you can,” he said with that same, effortless ease, his tall, towering frame moving toward you without hesitation. “But let me.” His voice was softer this time, the teasing gone. 

MY KNEES TURNED TO JELLY FR!!!! when he is chivalrous and a gentleman but also hot as fuck 🤩

Mingyu stood at the stove, moving effortlessly like he belonged there, he changed his white shirt. His black t-shirt now clinging just enough to make you notice. The sleeves stretched over his biceps, broad and defined, flexing slightly with each movement.

IMAGINING THIS MINGYU

AND I DONT BLAME READER FOR HAVING A HARD TIME W HER FEELINGS FOR HIM

THE WAY THIS WHOLE SCENE EXCITED ME BECAUSE IT CONFIRMS THAT MINGYU DOES ACTUALLY FEEL FEELINGS FOR READER TOO!!!! ITS NOT ONE-SIDED AAAAHHHHH ✨️

Yeah. He was so screwed. 

#MAPLEGYU SCREAMS!!!!!!!!! this is everything. officially down bad. on his way to becoming a certified loverboy!!!!!!

The whole back and forth about stealing and wearing Mingyu's clothes...... THE OBVIOUS FLIRTING PLEASE I WAS RLY EATING IT UP!!!! dont u two realize ur so into each other aaahhhhhh! And then tbh at this point i thought the story (or part 1) would be over but there was more!!!!

Mingyu was still there and reader was wearing his clothes. Excuse me a whole day of domesticity with your favorite person????

The way user taesjpq painted the picture of how their night was going sent me to space actually because ITS THE LITTLE THINGS!!!! together ordinary things feel extraordinary 😭 and im sure thats what reader felt w gyu!!!! And please they never stopped flirting! Him telling her he looks good in his clothes!!?? MY BABY GIRL LET YOUR MIND GO THERE!!!! THINK ABT GYU BEING PART OF UR DAILY LIFE!!!! BELIEVE HE LIKES U BACK COS HE DOES!!!!!

He watches you with an intensity that makes the room feel smaller, more intimate. His eyes flicker to your lips, and that’s when it happens—the hesitation. Heswallows hard, fighting the urge to close the distance entirely. He’s trying—really trying—to resist, to keep this from crossing a line neither of you can come back from. But it’s impossible when you’re looking at him like that, when your body is so close, when the scent of you wrapped in his clothes makes his head spin. 

THIS MADE ME INSANE I LEGIT WASNT BREATHING

SO IMAGINE MY EXCITEMENT WHEN HE TRIED TO GO IN FOR A KISS!!!!!!! The build-up??!?! The uncertaintainty but also wanting it so bad??!?! CROSS IT CROSS THE LINE!!!! God im rooting for them i am suchhhh a sucker for bff's to lovers!!!!!!!

Thank you for writing this i really reaaally enjoyed it!!! I cant wait for the next part!!!! 💖

Jealousy part. I

genre — suggestive fluff, best friends to lovers, smut (maybe in part II) ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ pairing — female!reader x best friend!Mingyu summary — You, Hoshi, Wonwoo, and Mingyu—inseparable. Their apartment feels like your second home. But one of them makes your heart race in ways you wish it wouldn’t. He treats you like you’re special—attentive, caring, almost like a boyfriend. But he’s not your boyfriend. He’s your best friend. He treats you this way—this is just how Mingyu is, right? word count — 4,3k (part l)

Warnings and notes under the line.

WARNINGS: Alcohol consumption, jealousy/insecurity, unrequited/complicated feelings, emotional distress, avoidance/coping mechanisms, mild possessiveness (towards him), possible hangover, waking up next to someone, suggestive elements/mild sexual tension, light kiss [let me know if I forgot something]

notes: san (ateez) cameo (you will better understand in part II) Hoshi, Wonwoo cameo. This is my first published ff ever, I hope you like it. I‘m actually very nervous about it, so feel free to give your opinion. I just wrote this, when I felt down bad for Mingyu again (he‘s so boyfriend istg). The question is, when i am not exactly down bad for Mingyu? He‘s the standard.

"Any plans for the weekend?"  

San held the office door open for you, his gentle smile as familiar as ever.  

You sighed quietly, relieved that the exhausting workweek was finally over. It had been chaos—half the staff out sick, leaving you drowning in double the workload.  

San had been your lifesaver, stepping in every time you thought you might break under the pressure.  

"Actually, I'm meeting my friends at a restaurant," you replied, noticing the faint flicker of something wistful in his eyes.  

"Why am I not surprised?" he teased, his grin widening as you stepped through the door.  

San had a way of always asking about your plans, like he was hoping, just once, your answer might include him. But it never did. Just: „My friends, my friends, my friends.“ 

It wasn’t a lie, though. You practically lived at their apartment. Gaming nights with Wonwoo, gym sessions with Mingyu, and endless meals with Hoshi—that was your rhythm, your second home.  

"Thanks for the coffee, San. Next time, it’s on me," you said, flashing him a grateful smile.  

"Anytime," he replied, his gaze lingering for just a moment longer before you parted ways.

 

You arrived flustered, breathless from rushing. Of course, they were already here. 

As you pushed open the door, the warm buzz of conversation and clinking plates enveloped you.  

Your eyes scanned the restaurant, locking on them almost immediately: your boys—and a girl. A girl? 

She was sitting beside Mingyu, close enough that their arms nearly brushed. Her laugh carried across the table, light and unrestrained, and something about it made your stomach twist. Who was she?  

"Finally!" Hoshi greeted you as you approached, his voice brimming with playful exasperation. "We thought you’d ditched us."  

You forced a smile, settling into the usual chaos of their teasing welcome. 

"This is Hana," Wonwoo explained casually when he caught the question in your eyes.  

"And? don’t you think she looks just like me?" Hoshi added, grinning as he gestured dramatically toward her.  

You studied her more closely, and the resemblance hit you. It was uncanny—her smile, her energy. She could’ve been his twin. 

"I’ve been crashing at their place for a few days," Hana said, extending her hand toward you. "Hoshi insisted."  

Your polite smile barely reached your eyes. Why hadn’t anyone told you?  

"Nice to meet you," you said, shaking her hand and glancing around. There wasn’t an empty chair for you.  

Mingyu noticed immediately. Without hesitation, he stood, grabbing one from a nearby table and setting it beside him.  

"Thanks, Gyu," you murmured, your voice softer than you intended.  

He nodded and gave you a gentle smile. 

Oh, how you’d missed him. His warmth, his silly jokes—the way his laughter could dissolve the stress of your week. You’d been looking forward to this, to catching up with him. But now, it seemed difficult.  

As the group settled into conversation, you tried to focus, tried to join in. But your attention kept drifting—to Hana, to how close she sat to Mingyu, to the way she leaned into him when she laughed. Her fingers grazed his arm casually, like she belonged there.  

"So, Hana, how do you like the city so far?" Wonwoo asked, drawing her attention.  

"It’s great," she said brightly. "Hoshi’s been showing me around—it’s been so much fun."  

Her hand lingered on Mingyu’s shoulder as she spoke, and your stomach knotted uncomfortably.  

Just then, the waiter arrived, placing drinks on the table. Four sojus. Your eyebrows lifted in surprise—they’d ordered before you arrived. That wasn’t how things worked. You always waited. It was a small tradition, but it mattered. Or, at least, it used to.  

"One soju for me too, please," you said quickly, catching the waiter before he walked away.  

But the unease didn’t leave. Hana’s touchiness continued—her laugh too loud, her attention on Mingyu too focused. He didn’t seem to mind, even smiled at her a few times. Yet, every so often, his eyes flicked to you, as if checking for something. 

You didn’t know why, but every time Hana’s hand brushed against his arm, you reached for your bottle. Every time she giggled a little too sweetly, your glass met your lips. The warm burn sliding down your throat was easier to deal with than the twist in your chest. 

"You should see these two at the gym," Hoshi chimed in suddenly, pointing between you and Mingyu. "They’re like workout aliens or something." 

The group laughed, and you managed a small smile, but your heart wasn’t in it. 

Hana giggled, leaning closer to Mingyu. "Maybe you can show me some moves sometime," she said, her tone playful. 

Your fingers tightened around the glass. Without thinking, you poured yourself another shot—your third, or was it the fourth? You weren’t keeping track anymore.  

Mingyu let out a small chuckle, and that was it—you tipped your head back and downed the drink in one go. 

Your chest tightened. Mingyu was your closest friend. Your partner for everything. The one you laughed with, teased, leaned on. Seeing her in that space, acting like she belonged, made your skin crawl. You probably were just overreacting- and yet, you just kept drinking. 

“I need to go to the bathroom,” you lie, the words tumbling out too quickly, barely convincing even to yourself. 

You needed space—air that wasn’t thick with your confusion, your frustration. If you stayed another second, your face would betray you, exposing the childish jealousy simmering just beneath the surface.  

The cool evening air hit you like a lifeline as you stepped outside, goosebumps forming on your arms from the crisp breeze. 

You closed your eyes briefly, letting it kiss your flushed cheeks, but it did little to soothe the ache in your chest. The dull, relentless throb of longing refused to fade.  

“This isn’t the bathroom.”  

The familiar voice sent a jolt through you, every nerve in your body suddenly on high alert. You didn’t have to turn to know who it was.  

You glanced back anyway, already masking your shock with a strained smile. Of course, it’s him. It’s always him.  

“I don’t know what you mean,” you said, forcing a lightness you didn’t feel. “This looks like a bathroom to me.”  

He chuckled, that low, warm laugh that always did things to your chest, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. And despite yourself, you smiled too, because how could you not? 

God, you were so hopelessly in love with him.  

Without a word, he steps closer, draping your jacket over your shoulders. “You’re probably freezing,” he says, his voice gentle, but with a tenderness that makes your stomach tighten.  

His hands brush lightly against your skin as he adjusts the jacket, and it sends a shiver through you—not from the cold, but from the barely-there touch. 

You look up, your breath catching in your throat as your eyes meet his. His gaze softens, a flicker of concern crossing his face.  

The silence that followed stretched taut between you, thick and heavy with unspoken words. Neither of you seemed willing to break it. The faint hum of traffic and the muffled buzz of laughter from the bar filled the empty space.  

You shifted uncomfortably, your fingers toying with the hem of your dress. Don’t say it. Don’t bring her up. Just let it go. But the question clawed its way out of you anyway.  

“I didn’t know Hana was staying at your place,” you blurted, the words sharper than you intended, laced with something raw and exposed.  

He exhaled, running a hand through his hair, his exasperation evident. “Yeah, I didn’t know either. Trust me.”  

You raise an eyebrow, still unsure. “Hoshi didn’t mention it?” 

“He forgot,” Mingyu mutters, shaking his head. What a Hoshi thing to happen, you thought.  

“I walked into my room, and she was already asleep in my bed. I didn’t have the heart to wake her, so I took the couch for the week.”  

Your stomach twisted, the weight of his explanation sitting heavy. Of course, he wouldn’t complain. He’s Mingyu—always generous, always selfless. Always giving more of himself than he should.  

“Oh,” you managed, your voice too light, too fake. “It’s just funny to think… if I showed up at your place, I’d find her instead of you.” You tried to laugh, but the sound was hollow, even to your ears.  

He shrugged, casual and unaffected. “It wasn’t a big deal for me. I worked overtime all week, so I wasn’t home much anyway.”  

Of course, it wasn’t a big deal to him. But to you? It was everything. Every single thing.  

You felt the sting of tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away quickly. Not here. Not now.  

The night had been shallow and hollow, a void you couldn’t seem to escape. All you’d wanted was a quiet evening with your friends, especially Mingyu. Just sitting beside him, leaning against his shoulder—feeling the solid warmth of him—would’ve been enough.  

But instead, you’d spent the evening watching Hana, her laughter, her touches, her presence invading spaces you’d always considered yours. Even if you don't have the right to do so. 

The ache in your chest sharpened, spreading through you like wildfire. You couldn’t stay here any longer.  

“I’m gonna head home,” you said, your voice flat, eyes fixed on the ground. “I think I need some rest after this week.”  

You felt his gaze land on you, heavy and searching, and for a moment, you wavered under its weight.  

“I’ll take you home,” he said softly, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument.  

“No, it’s okay,” you replied quickly, trying to steady your tone. “I have my car.”  

“I know,” he says, stepping closer, his presence almost overwhelming. His eyes scan your face, tracing every inch of you, as if reading you in ways that make your heart race. “But you shouldn’t drive. You drank too much.” 

“I’m fine,” you muttered, frustration bubbling up. “I’m not drunk.” 

 And then, he speaks again, voice softer, more tender. 

“Your cheeks,” he murmurs, his thumb gently brushing against your flushed skin. “They’re red. That happens when you drink too much.” 

You freeze, his touch lingering. Your heart pounds in your chest, and his proximity feels like a punch to your gut. He looks even more handsome than usual—his messy hair falling over his forehead, the soft fabric of his shirt still loose and unbuttoned just enough to make your breath catch. The way he stands there, effortlessly composed, but so close that you can almost taste the air between you—his scent wrapping around you like a warm, familiar blanket. 

God, you feel weak in front of him. 

“I can’t let you drive like this,” he adds softly. 

You want to protest, but the words catch in your throat. He cares. He always does. 

“Unless…” he tilts his head slightly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You’ve got other plans?”  

A sharp, throbbing pain pulsed through your head as you reached for your phone, your limbs feeling heavy under the weight of sleep. 

The sunlight filtering through the curtains was way too bright, making you wince as you blindly swiped to answer the call without checking the caller ID. 

“Hello…?” Your voice was hoarse, thick with exhaustion. 

“Mingyu, where are you?! I’ve been trying to reach both of you for hours!” 

Your brows furrowed, confusion washing over you like a cold wave. Mingyu? 

You pulled the phone away from your ear to check the name on the screen. Hoshi Hyung. 

Your headache made it hard to process, but one thing was clear—you would never save him like that. 

Why the hell was he even calling you about Mingyu? 

Just as the pieces of the puzzle refused to click into place, you felt it—a presence beside you. 

With a slow, sinking feeling, you turned your head to the right. 

And there he was. 

Mingyu. 

All 187 centimeters of him, sleeping peacefully under your blanket like he belonged there. His hair was tousled, his breathing deep and even, his broad chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm. 

Your eyes widened, your grip on the phone tightening. You hung up immedietly.  

Fuck. 

Before you could spiral too much, Mingyu let out a deep sigh, his arm stretching out lazily—almost like he was reaching for you. His eyes, still hazy with sleep, fluttered open but instantly softening the moment they land on you,— The way you were staring at him, as if he'd just appeared out of nowhere —his lips curled into a knowing smirk. 

“Morning,” he murmured, his voice deep and rough with sleep. 

“It’s 2 p.m., Mingyu.” 

He blinked slowly before lazily glancing around the room. “Shit, really?” His voice was raspy, thick. He let out a slow breath before sinking deeper into the pillows. “I slept so fucking good.” A lazy smile tugged at his lips as he let his eyes fall shut again. 

You watched him. His dark hair was a complete mess, strands sticking out in every direction, and yet, somehow, it only made him look softer. His skin looked warm and tan against the white sheets. His lips—full, slightly swollen from sleep—parted just the tiniest bit, and for a moment, you had to fight the urge to reach out, to trace them with your fingertips, just to see if they were as soft as they looked. 

You swallowed hard. "I... uh—what happened last night?" 

Mingyu let out a soft chuckle, rolling onto his side to face you properly. “You really don’t remember?” 

Your silence was answer enough. 

“Oh, this is fun,” he mused, resting his cheek against his palm. “You were very affectionate. Like, I knew you liked me, but I didn’t expect you to cling to me like that.” 

Your face burned instantly. “Shut up.” 

He grinned wider. “You wouldn’t let go. Kept saying I couldn’t leave, that I should sleep next to you.” His voice dropped into something teasing. “Should I start staying over more often?” 

The heat in your cheeks deepened, and without thinking, you grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at him. He laughed, catching it effortlessly before it could hit his face. 

“Ohhh, so violent first thing in the morning,” he teased. “Where’s all that love from last night, huh?” 

You wanted to escape the awkwardness, so you stepped away from the bed, but as you did, your gaze betrayed you—flicking toward Mingyu. His white shirt hung loosely on his frame, almost completely unbuttoned, exposing a hint of his chest and the silver chain resting just above it. The sight made your breath catch for a moment, your heart skipping. 

Mingyu caught your glance. His eyes met yours for a heartbeat, but then they dropped—slowly, unwillingly, lingering on your legs just a moment too long. 

You shifted uncomfortably, feeling the fabric of your dress inching up, revealing more of your legs than you'd intended. The air between you both seemed to thicken, heavy with something unspoken. 

In an awkward flurry, Mingyu began buttoning his shirt, his movements too quick, too self-conscious, like he was suddenly aware of every inch of space between you. 

You cleared your throat, trying to fill the silence, and nervously stammered, “I—I’m making breakfast.” 

Mingyu immediately sat up, “I’ll do it.” 

You turned to glare at him, a bit sharper than you intended. “I can make it on my own.” 

“I know you can,” he said with that same, effortless ease, his tall, towering frame moving toward you without hesitation. “But let me.” His voice was softer this time, the teasing gone. 

His eyes flickered over you briefly—the exhaustion, the headache written all over your face, the way your clothes were still crumpled from last night. 

“You should take a shower,” he added, voice gentle. “It’ll help with the headache.” 

You blinked at him, and looked down on you after.  

“Yeah..probably.” 

You hesitated for a second before heading towards the bathroom, still feeling like you were stuck in some weird dream. 

The moment you stepped in front of the mirror, you almost flinch. 

Your makeup was smudged, your hair an absolute mess, strands sticking to your forehead. Your dress from last night was wrinkled and slightly loose on one side. 

You looked horrible. Greasy. Disgusting. 

Mingyu slept next to this? 

You suddenly wanted to cry. 

Taking a deep breath, you quickly peeled off your clothes and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the weird feelings in your chest. 

By the time you were done, you felt human again. 

There was no way you were putting that dress back on, so you grabbed your bathrobe, tying it tightly around your waist before stepping out. 

Your hair was still damp, strands clinging to your skin as you walked barefoot toward the kitchen, following the smell of food. 

Mingyu stood at the stove, moving effortlessly like he belonged there, he changed his white shirt. His black t-shirt now clinging just enough to make you notice. The sleeves stretched over his biceps, broad and defined, flexing slightly with each movement.  

And then he turned around. 

For a moment, it was like time froze. 

Mingyu’s breath hitched the second his eyes landed on you. 

The damp strands of hair framing your face, the way your robe sat snugly around you, revealing the delicate curve of your collarbone—he was so unprepared for this. 

His fingers twitched around the wooden spoon, and for a split second, he forgot what he was even doing. His grip almost faltered. 

He was staring. 

Hard. 

You raised an eyebrow. “You good?” 

Mingyu swallowed, snapping out of it. “Y-Yeah. Yeah, I’m—uh, food’s almost done.” 

He forced a smile, turning back to the stove way too quickly—like he needed a second to compose himself. 

You didn’t question it, shrugging as you took a seat at the table. 

Mingyu, on the other hand, inhaled deeply, gripping the spoon like it was the only thing keeping him from completely losing his mind. 

Yeah. He was so screwed. 

“So.” Mingyu cleared his throat, a little too forcefully. “How’s your headache?” 

You barely looked up, scrolling through the endless messages from Hoshi and Wonwoo. “Hm? Oh-It still hurts. But I’m sure I’ll feel better after eating something."

A beat of silence. 

Too long. Too heavy. 

You, sitting there like that—bare-faced, hair still damp, wrapped up in your robe—he had seen you like this before. And yet, right now, it felt… different. His fingers flexed against the edge of the kitchen counter. 

He didn’t want to think about why. 

“How’s work been lately?” he asked, voice casual—too casual. “You looked exhausted yesterday. And, well… the number of drinks you had kind of spoke for itself.” 

You let out a dry laugh, stretching your legs beneath the table. “Yeah, work… Work has been insane. Feels like half the office is out sick, and I’m the lucky one picking up the slack.” 

Mingyu frowned as he turned off the stove, moving with practiced ease. “That’s bullshit.” A pause. “No wonder you were exhausted.” 

That wasn’t the reason you drank last night, but he didn’t need to know that.  

You shrugged, watching him. The way he knew where everything was. The way he moved through your kitchen like he belonged there. Because he did. 

Mingyu set a plate in front of you before settling into the chair across from you. He picked up his fork but didn’t eat right away, just watching you for a beat. 

“You really need a break,” he muttered, mostly to himself. Then, his eyes flickered to yours, and something shifted in his expression. A smirk tugged at his lips. “Or maybe just… new clothes.” 

You blinked. “What?” 

He gestured vaguely toward you. “I mean, I knew you had a couple of my things, but—” He gave you a pointed look. “At this point, half of your closet is mine. I could practically  move in here.” 

You almost choked on your food. 

That little shit. 

Mingyu leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. “You know, I always wondered where my stuff kept disappearing to.” He tilted his head, pretending to think. “For a while, I actually believed I had a hole in my closet.” 

You swallowed your bite. “Weird. Sounds like a you problem.” 

He scoffed. “Oh, really?” 

You nodded, keeping your face blank. “Mhm. No clue what you’re talking about.” 

His gaze flickered over you, his smirk deepening. “So, you’re telling me my hoodies just magically disappeared? Along with my t-shirts? And my beanie? And—” 

“Okay, okay,” you cut in, groaning. “Maybe your clothes are just… way too comfortable. Not my fault they’re basically begging to be stolen.” 

“Begging,” he repeated, like he was tasting the word. 

“Yes.” You met his eyes, feigning innocence. “I don’t see the issue.” 

Mingyu let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.” 

You smirked, tilting your head. “And yet, you still let me steal your stuff.” 

He exhaled through his nose, picking at his food. “I don’t let you. You just take it.” 

“Semantics.”  

Mingyu rolled his eyes, but there was something in his expression—something warm, something familiar. 

For a moment, it almost felt normal again. Like the weird tension from before had settled into something softer. Something easier. 

But then his eyes lingered on you a second too long. 

And suddenly, it was back. 

That unspoken thing between you. 

Neither of you acknowledged it. 

You just kept eating. 

And Mingyu? 

Mingyu was so, so screwed. 

Your phone started ringing. Hoshi was calling. 

We were screwed. 

By the time evening settled in, you had changed into something comfortable—his clothes, to be exact. He was still here, lingering in your space, and for a few fleeting hours, everything felt right. As if this was how it was always meant to be. As if this was your everyday. But deep down, a small voice whispered, warning you not to get used to it. 

After dinner,  Mingyu is still here. 

You’re in the kitchen, washing dishes side by side like it’s nothing, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His hand brushes against yours when he reaches for a plate, and it’s almost too quick to register. But you don’t pull away. Neither does he. 

He leans against the counter, arms crossed loosely, watching you as you load the dishes into the dishwasher. His voice breaks the silence, low and casual, but there’s an edge to it, something like hesitation. 

“Do you still have a headache?” 

Before you can speak, he’s close. His presence fills the space between you. His left hand gently presses against your forehead.. His right hand moves to your neck, fingers brushing lightly over your skin.  

You barely notice it at first, but when you shift slightly, you feel it—your back pressing against the counter. Mingyu is so close, standing in front of you, subtly caging you in You can barely breathe. You don’t know what’s worse: the fact that he’s so close, or the fact that you want him closer.  

Your voice falters when you answer. "I’m fine now. It’s... better." You watch as Mingyu’s face softens in an instant at your words. 

Neither of you moves, standing close, too close.  

Mingyu’s lips quirk into a grin, but there’s a hint of something more in his voice. “My clothes look good on you. I should let you steal them more often.” 

You laugh, but it’s breathless. You stretch up, reaching for his face, your fingers brushing his skin. You squint your eyes, making a playful face. “I’d do it anyway. Don’t need your permission.” 

Mingyu chuckles, but his gaze shifts, sharpening just enough for you to notice. He steps closer. The warmth radiating off his body, the faint brush of his leg against yours, the way his chest is so close that if you just leaned in the smallest bit, you'd be pressed against him. It’s intoxicating. You don’t even realize you’ve stopped breathing for a second until you force yourself to inhale, only to take in the faint scent of him—clean, familiar, utterly Mingyu. 

He watches you with an intensity that makes the room feel smaller, more intimate. His eyes flicker to your lips, and that’s when it happens—the hesitation. Heswallows hard, fighting the urge to close the distance entirely. He’s trying—really trying—to resist, to keep this from crossing a line neither of you can come back from. But it’s impossible when you’re looking at him like that, when your body is so close, when the scent of you wrapped in his clothes makes his head spin. 

And then, he inches closer, almost without thinking, and his lips brush against yours—just the lightest touch, so soft that it could almost be a breath. Your body tenses, and for a second, everything stills.  

But fuck, it’s enough to send heat coursing through his veins. 

His lips are soft, teasing, brushing lightly against yours. The kiss is slow, barely there, but enough to leave you gasping for more. 

You inhale sharply, your breath mixing with his. You don’t move away. If anything, you shift closer, your body reacting before your mind can catch up. 

His lips linger, hovering, teasing. Testing. 

His self-control is hanging by a thread. 

He tells himself to stop. You were loosing yourself in it. You- 

- Ding Dong 

The sound of the doorbell rings, slicing through the tension. You both freeze. The world shifts back into focus. The heat, the closeness, everything evaporates in an instant. 

You step back, your breath coming in uneven gasps. Mingyu looks away, running a hand through his hair, trying to regain his composure. 

[satorugojoswiife]

What do you think about gojo ships

I feel like I'm pretty indifferent to most of them. This is super cringe of me, but whenever I fall super in love with a character I don't often like shipping them romantically with anyone. 💀 (im delusional I know)

It doesn't help that for some reason the jjk fandom (especially twt) is weirdly aggressive about ships. I know it isn't all the shippers and it's mostly just the loud minority, but seeing so much of the discourse has kinda put me off and I don't really engage much with the ships in the fandom except for rarepairs and selfships bc alot of the time those communities are more wholesome and cozy (if that makes sense LOL)

[pantestudines]

No one should care but ive been thinking about it and my take is that the root of the walrus/fairy question is one specific word used by the original poll: "surprised". The question is not which would change your worldview or which is more/less possible to really happen. The question is which *surprises* you more. To me, this means which causes a stronger immediate surprise reaction in you upon opening that door. In essence, how bad do you flinch?

This, to me, is why so many people (including myself!) choose Walrus. A walrus is an immediate situation! That's an animal larger and stronger than you are, one that I would say is potentially very dangerous, that many people have never seen in real life. And now it's your responsibility and on your doorstep! A walrus on a doorstep is a novel idea, at least to me. I don't think I've ever had an animal just appear at my door, and certainly never knock. Sure, after the gut reaction dies down, the mundanity of the situation is certain; a walrus is a real animal and the perpetrator is likely nearby, laughing at the world's weirdest ding-dong ditch prank. But for a few seconds, it's just you, your expectations upon opening a door, and a pinniped of unusual size.

Now let's examine the fairy; The term can be vague, but I think most people imagine a generally humanoid but very small creature with insect wings. First off, by being small, the fairy will likely not trigger a defensive response, unlike the walrus. This thing is not an immediate threat, at least to your subconcious. Also, by being humanoid, usually with a very human face and features, this changes the situation from "strange beast on my doorstep" to "strange person on my doorstep". Obviously this may be different from person to person, but I think "strange small person on my doorstep" would illicite much weaker response from my flight or fight reflex than a large, strange animal. This is nothing to say about the familiarity most people have with fantasy and fantasy ideas, and the lack of familiarity most people have with walrus' in general, but I think those are also factors.