#but then having mundane misunderstandings outside of their work…

[calmbigdipper]

Resting is important!

[minsimagines]

stars, part. i

pairing; pro hero!midoriya x f!reader

word count; 2,5k

parts; one, two 

warnings; a little angsty, friends to lovers, mentions of loneliness, mentions of sexual innuendos, reader is pining for his attention, misunderstanding trope. let me know if there are more. 

+ next part will be smut lol. something about soft, big, buff, aged up deku makes me so aaaaghhhh. my requests are open <3

you are invisible. no one sees you. no one wants to see you, because you are simply surrounded by heroes — you’re not truly part of their world.

 you are just you. you’re always where you need to be when you’re needed, you take the messages you need to take, you bring the coffees you’re told to bring, you sit tight in your little cubicle outside of the secretary’s office. 

you are just an assistant of a secretary of someone else’s office, a tiny puzzle piece in the massive labyrinth that made up the world of agencies — especially the one that housed the most popular heroes. a spectator to their grandeur, even if you know all the heroes would be running havoc if not for the likes of the agencies.

you are overlooked.

but he sees you. 

calm, kind pro hero deku who holds the doors for you if you both enter any room in the agency at the same time. curious, shy deku who always greets you with a smile, asking if you’ve slept well. 

big, buff pro hero deku who blushes when he catches you sneaking a glance at him.

he, unlike you, cannot move through the world without being perceived. everyone sees him. he is broad as he is tall, he is powerful, he is handsome, he is a favorite. 

to you — who is nothing but a tiny pillar that could easily be replaced in the agency’s structure — earning the attention of deku meant feeling special. if he noticed you, then there must be something utterly wonderful about you, perhaps something that you don’t even see for yourself. 

unfortunately, you are not the only one who finds his attention rewarding — he is well known, well loved, and people want him. good intentions or not, he is not for you to claim. his friendship with you, at best, is superficial. it is nothing but a bystanders' hope for sudden glory in an otherwise mundane life.

you’ve never wanted to be a hero, and you still don’t, but by the stars, what it would be like if it meant you could be closer to him. him who has become the good in every ‘good morning’. 

nature is cruel in many ways, but none of the reasons have affected you in such a way as this. to be so close to such a star, such wonder and warmth, destined to melt as you reach for it. the more you looked, the brighter it got, and most times the forces at work made you to look away. 

however, as cruel as you found nature to be, it would surprise you by being even crueler.

one day, he didn’t look your way anymore when he felt you looking. you could see he felt your eyes on him, he perked up slightly as though someone called his name, but he would turn the other way. 

he never appeared where you were to hold the doors, your roads seemed to never cross anymore, and if they did then he quietly held it open without looking at you.

he didn’t say much when he walked past your desk. you’d taken to being the one who initiated the ‘good mornings’, and he would reply, but it was in the same way of the others — distant. 

so  you reached away from the glare of the star. you stepped back, you let him be, you looked away. 

your good mornings returned to being simply mornings. 

it hurt more than you wanted to admit. humiliating how some grand hero you didn’t even know intimately had become such a life line. of course, being a lifeline was his job, but you had tucked him away within yourself, buried the tone of his voice in your chest, constantly reminding yourself that you were no longer alone when he was willing to look your way.

how empty and sour your life must be to let a pro hero’s common humility fill the void within you. 

but it stung worse than any paper cut, and you no longer found comfort in being invisible. you wanted to be seen. you wanted him to see you. 

there’s something about sadness and loneliness that will eventually push you to new limits; willing or not.

that’s how you find yourself standing in front of him, looking up at him, meeting his confused, slightly uncomfortable stare with your own horrified and determined glare. 

he’s big. bigger than your memory would allow you to remember. broad shoulders, strong arms, big chest — it almost throws your thoughts away from the objective.

“good morning,” you press as you corner him. 

his lips part slightly, and you look at them. they look soft. pink. you quickly look back up to his eyes. it’s a mistake — you see him looking at your lips as well. 

the confusion and discomfort in his eyes are gone, replaced by some kind of heaviness as they watch your mouth. you can’t read it. however, it makes you draw a silent but sharp inhale, some form of warmth and confirmation lingering in the space of that breath. confirmation of what, you can’t understand in those quick moments, but something in the way he towers over you, the way he seems to almost want to cage you away from the world, sends a shiver across your skin, littering you in goosebumps. 

this feeling makes it seem freezing cold to stand straight without touching something, and he suddenly looks awfully inviting with his skin tight hero suit. 

you swallow thickly as his eyes find yours again, snapping out of his trance. your mouth feels extra wet now, thinking of how his hands might feel against your body.

“good morning,” he says, and his voice is hoarse, as though there’s emotion lodged in his throat. 

you don’t allow yourself to think too far into it, even if the back of your mind latches onto every bit of information it can haul out of his stiff body language. 

“is it?” you ask slowly, brows furrowing softly. 

“is it… what?”

“a good morning?”

“i…” he trails off, brows lowered as his eyes shift between both your eyes and your lips in a dizzying triangle. “i suppose?” it’s low, it’s a whisper, and it’s as uncertain as the blurry memory of a dream.

“did i do something wrong?” you blurt, overcome with a haste, a bravery that dies as quickly as it blazed up. you blush, swallowing thickly. 

he’s silent for a long moment. 

strong, powerful pro hero deku, who seems but a shadow of the kind champion he had seemed weeks prior. 

“i have to go,” he mumbles, and he doesn’t look you in the eyes as he says it. he glances away, tightens his fists and walks away. 

you almost fall forward, tentative, threatening to topple over as soon as he is not next to you. he did not see you worthy of even looking you in the eyes for his avoidance. your mind is as tentative as your body, and you feel yourself tilting over the edge of something. a coldness waits for you at the bottom of whatever cliff this is.

—

you’ve barely been within the walls of your home for ten minutes, shaking off your soaking wet coat and shoes, standing exhausted in your hallway with only pajama shorts and a tank top on, when rushed and harsh knocks come on the door. you startle and hitch a scream, turning to look at the entrance to your home. 

stalking silently over to the keyhole, you peek through it. 

your gaze stutters as you pull away, heart dropping into the pit of your stomach, suddenly more than a little afraid of what you may have initiated. 

he is outside of your door. 

bright, shining pro hero deku is outside you home. 

was he here to deliver the final blow? to let you know you are not to show up at work again? to let you know you have overstepped his boundaries, that he doesn’t want anything to do with you? 

you open the door as though it may fall of its hinges if you’re not careful, tempted to hide behind it like a child caught up too late because he looks just like the stories of beautiful, tragic heroes of the greek mythologies, and you couldn’t have wished to look upon a more pleasant sight on your doorstep, even if it is cruel. nature seems incessant on making your life painful now.

he’s wearing civilian clothing. breathing hard. a t-shirt, gray sweatpants, all wet from the rain, running his fingers through his dripping green-ish hair as he tilts his head back slightly as he notices you’re opening the door. you’re tempted to both run into him and away from him all at once, turned inside out and bare, and so you just stand as still as you possibly can. perhaps it’ll make you truly invisible. 

you’re overwhelmed by the way he absolutely and undoubtedly sees you. 

heavy-lidded, he lets his eyes take you in, in your entirety, as if he has held himself back from doing so for the longest of time. as though he has to hold himself back from pouncing on you. 

in a stupor, you step aside, a silent way to say he may step into your home. you’re not even sure he will fit inside your home, but you’re hospitable. he dips his head slightly as he enters, and the movement is so natural that your worry for his size subsides — you see he’s accustomed to being too tall, too large for things. 

too large a star to fit in your little universe. 

his arm brushes against you as he passes you, and you clench your teeth. he did that on purpose, is the thought that curses through your mind. you shake your head to yourself as you follow him into the living area of the apartment. 

“would have cleaned up if i… knew someone was coming,” you mutter, uncomfortable as a wet sock. which you still had on. 

he turns to you, and you regret not turning on all the lights in the apartment. he’s backlit by the soft glow from the little lamp in the corner of the room, looking even larger, even more imposing, and somewhat even more alluring.

he’s here to fire you, and he decides to do it while looking at you as though he finds you beautiful — how cruel does nature intend to get? he’s in your space, both in mind and body, crowding you in your small living room. it’s not even a living room, truly, it’s a tiny kitchen and a small patch of open space for a couch and a tv. it fits you, but he is too bright in here. 

“you deserve an explanation,” he begins, the words seeming heavy. he’s still soaked, still so out of place, and you struggle to remember what you deserve an explanation for. 

“i really didn’t realize i’d been so awful, until you said something,” he sighed, running his hand through his hair again. he has to stop that soon, because your sensitive, touch-starved mind grows more dizzy with each move of those arms. 

you don’t reply, don’t know what there is to say to that. you’re slowly understanding that he’s not there to fire you, but you don’t know if this route is any better. he’s here to tell you he knows about your crush, and to let you down. 

“i was at the gym when it all clicked,” he takes a deep breath, holding a hand out, seeming almost embarrassed as he gestures to himself. “hence the… appearance.”

you frown deeply. 

“what?” you clear your throat. “did you… come here straight from the gym?” 

“i felt so fucking bad,” his brows furrow, lowering towards his eyes as he takes a step forward, crowding you again. “i couldn’t stand thinking you thought you’d done something wrong so i just-” he trails off, eyes flickering about your face. “i dropped everything and came straight here.”

your brows shot up. “you drove here before you’d even finished? what—but, why-”

“i ran.”

you blanch. “you ran.”

“i thought i was doing you a favor by giving you some personal space,” he murmurs. 

“wait, what? why would you think i needed personal space?”

“i didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. you always seemed to keep to yourself. i just… felt as though i was being too forward.”

you gaze at him. his concern is real, shining in the otherwise heavy look in his eyes. you timidly reach for his hand in a hope to soothe the concern from him. “deku, that's not it at all. you... you weren’t being forward enough.” 

the confession is a whisper, and you’re a blushing mess. you feel braver now, somehow. possibly because he was wrong and you were wrong, and now you’re both desperate to fix this. 

the crease on his brow deepens slightly as he stills, watching you. the tension slowly wanes from his brows as he looks down toward the hand in his. 

you’re tempted to pull away, overcome with a feeling of overstepping something, but he runs his thumb over yours, sensing your unease. his hand is warm, rough, such a contrast to yours. you know what that one hand alone is capable of — it’s breathtaking how soft his grip on you is. 

“what do you mean?” 

“i mean that i-” you sigh, feeling naked, “i felt worse when you ignored me.” 

it’s a heavy word, and you see him wince slightly in the way his brows twitch downward, but it’s the only word that fits. except for, perhaps, avoiding. which would have stung as bad to him anyway. 

“so you… don’t mind?”

“deku, i—”

“izuku,” he rights you, and you feel a flutter in the pit of your stomach at the way he commands it. 

“izuku,” you echo in a whisper, skin feeling all too tight across your body. “you talking to me was the highlight of my day. these last few weeks are what made me upset.”

“fuck,” he curls his lips in distate as he reaches up to cup your cheek. “i’m sorry. i’m really fucking sorry.”

“don’t,” you shake your head softly, swallowing thickly, feeling as though you might dissipate into a puddle under the heat of his touch on your face. he’s searching your eyes but you’re lost in the smell of his skin as your thighs press together. 

“i… came because i wanted to make it up to you,” he mutters, and your eyes flutter. even imagining one of the greatest heroes of them all has sought you out to do good by you. 

his eyes are half-lidded, dazed by some kind of darkness that isn’t so unfamiliar in such an intimate setting. he’s watching you patiently, as though waiting for you to give him permission to make a move.

you catch onto his sexual innuendo. it all becomes clear as crystal to you in the following moments and realization is earth shattering when it hits you. 

midoriya izuku, who is not as shy as he seems, wants to fuck you. 

[kaeyeahsworld]

Keep me in love.

Chapter 1: Sunsets

Toji woke up late that afternoon.

His practice sessions which got more rigorous day by day were starting to take a toll on him and the mandatory clubbing nights with his boxing mates up till 4 in the morning didn’t help. Toji didn’t mind though, stress busters like that were always welcome in his mundane but strangely packed life. The Toji from 10 years ago wouldn’t even have been able to dream of the word mundane.

His days were usually quite monotonous. Get up early (except for the weekends when he had no practice) cook up some grub, and clean up the already clean place. His flat was the most minimal it could be and he hadn’t bothered with any furniture besides a large couch in the living room and an expensive TV in front of it that was most certainly only there to give him some white noise on his sleepless nights. What he loved the most about his space was the tranquility that came in with the sunset of each day as the hues of orange, pink, and blue littered through the large wall-to-floor window panes. Every day after his boxing practice sessions that lasted throughout the afternoon he could come back home right at the moment to let the colors fall over him. It was his grounding moment of the day, something that told him he was alive and here, and all that was there was this moment.

After groggily loitering around his room and clearing up that space as well as the bed, he was thinking about whether to cook up something for his 3 pm breakfast, when the doorbell rang. His body prepared to leap out of pure muscle memory. He couldn’t think of anyone who would be visiting him at this hour. It was the weekend so Nanami would be off work and Shiu was in Korea. But when he opened the door, the last person he expected to stand in front of him was a girl with the most chocolate brown eyes he had ever seen and a cute little frown.

“Oh sorry! I seem to have gotten to the wrong-“

“It’s okay. This is 303, 203 is the floor below” Toji slammed the door uncaring.

The bell chimes again. Toji opens it again to the same girl.

“Hello, good sir. It appears I am where I’m supposed to be which is 303”.

“If you are looking for Fushiguro, he’s out of town-“Toji was about to slam the door once again when she yelped

“Wait a minute! This is 303 right? There is no confusion with the flat signs outside?” “Second time I am repeating myself miss, this is 303 on the third floor of Yuusei mansions”

“Right”

“Right”

Brown eyes then said something weird enough to ruin Toji’s nonexistent plans for the weekend and most importantly his bloody mood,

“You might have to move out Mr Fushiguro”

“And in the nicest way, I can ask, who the fuck are you miss?”

————————————————————————Lilly as she introduced herself at his doorway, was either not showing it or had no sense of panic about the situation at hand.

“How is it my fault that Uncle Jin isn't picking up his calls, so can you please stop shouting at me?” “Miss-“ “And isn’t it rude of you to make me stand at the doorway for 2 hours?”

The neighbours started noticing now. In reality it had been only about 20 minutes since brown eyes had started bickering with him and Jin Itadori wasn’t lifting his calls, the man that had not only previously employed him but also his landlord.

He invited her in at the moment just to shut her up. Almost as if it was her own, she started moving and looking around the place and heading towards the empty room opposite to Toji’s and before he could say anything the doorbell chimed once again and he was at it in a second. “Jin you dumb fuck” he roared as soon as he opened the door and the man's face came into view grinning mischievously.

‘why the fuck is everybody so chill about this?’

“Evening to you too Toji and where is she?” Hearing the familiar voice, Lilly popped up beside Toji’s large frame “Uncle! I think there’s been a misunderstanding” “I figured sweets. Toji, step out with me for a moment?”

————————————————————————

“And the guys must have gotten her papers wrong probably. She was supposed to move into 303 of the Yuusei’s 4th block, but it looks like they got it changed to 2nd. I don’t know for sure yet Toji and the whole process of rechecking and resubmitting her documents is gonna take some time so all I am asking for, is one month”

“No fucking way is that girl staying with me for an entire month Jin. I am not paying you so much of my bucks for stupid shit like this”

Jin snorted and quipped back “First off Toji you ain’t paying me as much as you should be but that’s on me, second of all it’s only for a month until I sort this stuff out and move her to another floor or away to another apartment itself.”

“Why can’t you do that now? Or maybe tell her to live with her family for a while. I swear to god Jin-

“She’s an orphan”

That caught Toji by surprise. He was all for assuming that she was a spoilt little daddy’s princess and the only cruelty of the world she had possibly faced was a waiter getting her order wrong “How do you know her then? And why does she call you uncle?”

Jin gave a soft smile when he heard the question but didn’t show any sign of answering him.

“You creepy fuck don’t tell me-“ “I will chop your tongue off Toji if you try finishing your sentence” “It’s not what you think. She is…like a nephew of mine. Sort off.”

Toji’s head started pounding with this one. Sort off? What was he getting himself into? More like what was Jin up to these days? But he asked the question that bothered him the most out of all

“Why is she so calm about it though?”

“Don’t ask me” Jin replied to his aloof self. “Maybe she has lived with the worst of the lot? Heard her ex was one heck of a bum. Anyway Toji, I am not taking your opinion on this one. She’s literally only going to be in her room so she won’t be taking up any of your space”

“But-“

“The living and the kitchen are the only shared space you guys have and I am sure your wonderful personality will repel her out of at least one of them for a while, you aren’t home most of the time and she isn’t either so suck it up for a month”

“One month. That’s all”

Toji had realized by now that Lilly was being moved into his place for a reason, he could spot a lie as good as he could tell one and he genuinely couldn’t wrap his head around as to why. But he wouldn’t ask. Simply because he did not care for the girl. Or if she was an orphan. One month will pass in a blink of an eye and he would be free again. Right?

~~~~~

[leosficlist]

Johnlock Fluff List 5

Fluff 1, Fluff 2, Fluff 3, Fluff 4

Collections of Clues by ianavi

There was no sleeping that night. And not due to the awkward stammering in the stacks of the library. Or the phrasing of what felt as a sudden dismissal. All Sherlock could think about was John's gaze on his neck, lips, reddening cheeks. How heated he felt under that gaze, how alone when John left. He was itching with desperation to not just be looked at but also touched. It was juvenile fantasy. But he was alone in his bedroom, it was past midnight, and he could indulge. He imagined John's hand reaching to touch his cheek, his fingers brushing his lips. He buried his head into the pillow and groaned. Could John ever see him like that, ever want him?

notes: librarian!Sherlock, I don't usually read AUs but this one is so sweet and lovely, Sherlock sets up themed displays at work

The Unexpected Affair of the Injured Detective by marycrawford

Holmes comes home from work.

notes: watson stitches holmes back up, and comforts him after a nightmare. ACD

Darling by Artemis (Citrine)

Inspired by a very old prompt about Watson calling Holmes 'darling' by accident:

With my eyes closed and my head resting on the padded back of my armchair I let the haunting, lilting music of Holmes’ violin wash over me. The exquisite sounds he drew from the violin and the warmth of the fire lulled me into a gentle daydream. Even when the music drifted into silence I stayed still and quiet, basking in my cocoon of contentment.

notes: ACD/Victorian Holmes

Through the Clouds by Mazarin221b

Sherlock takes a remarkably early retirement at 47, and convinces John that a change of pace would do them both good. They buy an old cottage on the South Downs, and exchange their nonstop life in Baker Street for quiet contemplation, bee studies, and book writing.

They might go completely insane, but sometimes it takes stepping outside of the life you're living to find the life you want.

notes: the first retirementlock fic I ever read, have reread it many times when in need of some happy ending loveliness

In Dreams by orphan_account

Every once and a while, the dark makes it easier to see.

notes: sleepy bed sharing, sherlock being himself (irritating) while confessing his feelings

Bread and Wine and Curry Once a Week by cwb 8.7k

"I am not agitated. I'm just tired of it. The insinuations, the comments, that I have no... no interest in relationships, or sex."

"Oh. So you do, then?"

"Maybe."

"Which? Relationships, or sex, or both?"

notes: love letters, love confessions, first date, first time

Five Times John Noticed But Didn't Really by ScandalousMinds 6.3k words

5 times John (thought) he noticed something peculiar about his and Sherlock's relationship but really missed the obvious.

notes: fluff, getting together, misunderstandings, insecure sherlock

What Sweeter Music by englandwouldfalljohn 917 words

Mulled wine. That was the ticket.

After the 221B Christmas Party, a relaxed Sherlock takes one more request on his violin... and finds more than he hoped for under the mistletoe.

notes: Sherlock speaks without realizes, confessions, violin, first kiss

Notes On A Love Story by A_Candle_For_Sherlock 4k words

Watson finds a copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray in Holmes' room. Or: what happens when a queer novel upends Baker Street.

notes: lovely, honest and sweet, ACD getting together

Laundry Day by Tysolna  1.1k

Habitually, every Tuesday without fail, John goes and does his laundry. Sherlock had developed a habit of his own: He would put small handwritten notes into the pockets of John’s trousers. Notes containing small things, mundane things, calm little asides in the usually hectic and turbulent life in 221B.

notes: could be anywhere you want in canon, sweet, notes and love notes

4+1 (Four Times John Touched Sherlock's Hair, And 1 Time Sherlock Understood Why) by Stressed_Depressed_Lemonzest

Fact: John touched his hair Fact: It felt impossibly wonderful Fact: Sherlock had no idea what to do with this information Sherlock hated feelings. They were illogical, pointless and made no sense. Feelings about John were double that. But they were also pretty wonderful.

notes: set around S1/2, fluffy fluff, gen

But a Flesh Wound by scullyseviltwin 2.4k

John has an accident while making dinner and Sherlock... overreacts.

Five Times Sherlock Fell Asleep in John's Arms by Accident and the One Time He Did It – Accidentally – on Purpose by WillowGrove 7k

Sherlock notices that John keeps cuddling him to sleep and he rather likes it. But then John stops, and Sherlock has to result to schemes to make it happen again. Who falls asleep, who wakes up in who’s arms, and – most importantly – will there be a kiss in the end?

[justalittleb-witchy]

Name/Reputation Ward Ideas

An expansion on warding 101

Disclaimer: Please skip this post if you are prone to interpersonal/relationship-based paranoia.

When most people consider warding, they think of basic protection-- keeping bad energy out and warding off harm. Reputation wards take a slightly different approach than most other wards-- they primarily ward off the mundane, not the magical. They provide a way to deal with things that might affect your reputation, such as slander or gossip. They are an excellent candidate for transmutative magic.

Here are some examples of things you might want to ward against/for, based on your situation:

Slander/defamation-- a false statement that causes harm to one's reputation. Someone might lie to your friends, family members, or boss for their own gain. How could you turn this situation in your favor?

Secret sharing-- Can you trust the people you divulge your secrets to? Are there consequences if they break your trust?

Personal judgement-- Are you good at reading people? Or do you consistently get swindled because you see the best in everyone?

Betrayal/cheating

Misunderstandings

Outside/internal perception-- How do other people view you? Does this affect how you see yourself?

Financial opportunities/misfortune-- sometimes our reputations can cause us to gain or lose opportunities.

Self-esteem-- How do you view yourself?

Transmutative Magic

To circle back to this point, reputation is an excellent thing to transmute. Someone wants to slander you? Take that energy and mold it into an opportunity for yourself. Here are examples of real world applications (1 & 2 are based on real stories, 3 is made up):

Example 1:

Person A decides to ward their reputation against slander and harm. By using different ingredients/techniques, they set the intention of twisting all slander into something that favors them and makes the slanderer look bad. Person A's new coworker, Person B, does not like the way Person A has been training them. They feel like Person A has been too strict. Person B goes to complain to Person A's boss... about Person A doing their job. Person B fails to frame Person A as the bad guy, and makes it clear that Person A was just doing what they were supposed to do without cutting corners. Person B is reprimanded by the boss, while the boss gains a more positive perception of Person A.

Example 2:

Person C sets a ward so that every time their name is used-- good, bad, or otherwise-- they receive a financial blessing. Suddenly, people are using their name more often, in situations where it would not normally be used. Random opportunities pop up for Person C to work overtime, leading to larger paychecks. Situations where people Use Person C's name with the intention to cause harm and neutralized and transformed into financial opportunities for Person C.

Example 3:

Person D has terrible self-esteem issues. Alongside mundane solutions, Person D decides to ward against self-depreciating thoughts to lessen their impact. Person D then transforms those thoughts into complements from others, because external validation is important to them and helps regulate their own internal dialogue.

A non-transmutative example, Example 4:

Person E feels like they don't have the best inter-personal judgement. They routinely trust the "wrong" people. They set up wards with little "tells" for when they have been triggered-- such as specific phrases being used. Person E meets someone new-- Person F-- in a hobby group they attend. Everything seems to be going well, but then Person F says a very specific phrase, which would not normally come up during a conversation-- specifically, Person E's ward's phrase. Person F asks for Person E's number, but to be cautious, Person E gives something less identifying/traceable, like an email or discord. Mundane over magical, Person E doesn't immediately write off Person F, but still acts with caution. In this case, the wards truly did work, as Person F gets increasingly pushy and disrespects Person E's boundaries. Because Person E acted cautiously, they were able to block and avoid Person F more easily.

A non-transmutative example, Example 5:

Person G sets a ward so that if someone divulges Person G's secrets, no one will believe them. The information will get scrambled and will sound like nonsense, because the person non-consensually sharing the secrets cannot get the information right, or cannot accurately recall the secret.

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

kaveh/gn!reader

genre: fluff, established relationship

warning(s)!!: alhaitham cringes at y'all (fun sucker), typical kaveh & alhaitham banter, no-gender mentioned for y/n, lowercase intended sorry im lazy

w.count: 2.1k

synopsis: kaveh is always forgetting his keys one way or the other, you try and keep his mind focused on what he keeps missing. he misunderstands your question 'aren't you forgetting something?'

a/n: much love to @birinboom for helping me choose this title and letting me annoy her with my banners for hours. smooches

you dont have to live in the same house as kaveh and alhaitham to know kaveh's morning routines of which he has several. sometimes he'll wake up early- be it a rare occassion- and peacefully make some coffee or review a few blueprint drafts then get ready for the day. others he's a bit more speedy, already dressed by the time he makes it into the kitchen for coffee and already having mehrak at his beck and call so they can get a move on.

but mostly, it consists of him oversleeping from hardly getting any sleep at all, rushing out of his room with his hands pushing the last of his red bobby pins in, yanking mehrak's handle with anything but an apology, and hoping that anything he needs for the day is already inside the sentient briefcase. he'd get a coffee somewhere at the akademia, or from some client if they're so kind, or even from you if you happen to run into him.

he never remembers everything though. most infamously, his house keys that are usually hanging by the door or somehow end up in alhaitham's possession. on those days, when you wake up in your own home devoid of all the chaos a morning with kaveh could include, you somehow always know when it's one of those days when he would be locked outside with no way in.

'alhaitham,' you call out to the grey-haired bookworm when you see him in passing through the akademia's halls on his way to work no doubt. he stops his strides and looks over his bare shoulder to see you coming over, hands full of material for your daily tasks.

'what is it?'

'do you have kaveh's keys today?' you ask quietly in the halls, making sure no one was within earshot since kaveh tried so adamantly to keep his living at alhaithams a secret.

alhaitham didn't verbally answer you, but he did pull out his own grey key revealing nothing attached to it. if he had it, normally they'd be stuck together by the keyrings. you nod and hum, waving to him before dismissing yourself since you didn't need to keep him from his work. only two options left:

kaveh forgot it at home or your gut was telling you wrong... for once.

you knew that your partner had a few meetings with clients today, but you weren't exactly privy to where those meetings would take place. whether it be their homes or somewhere like puspa cafe for the reason that it was surrounded by the noise of the public.

you decided to wait until later on in the afternoon to continue your investigation- he wouldn't notice until then anyways. besides, you had work to do today as well and he'd feel bad if he knew you spent your time running around looking for him instead of working. he didn't want you to fall behind on your tasks at his expense.

the said tasks at hand were fairly mundane and didn't pertain to anything of great stress. working for the akademia was stressful all on its own, but it could be worse. luckily, your relationship with alhaitham- the acting grand sage- was smooth enough that when you needed his approval for something he was quick to hear you out and then make a decision. you lightly chuckle at the memories of kaveh finding out he had rejected something from you for whatever reason and chewing his roommate's ear off later because of it.

kaveh could be high-strung about certain things- your duties and work for example- even when he didn't need to be. so you had advised him that any further pressing on why the acting grand sage told you 'no' (which shouldn't happen in kaveh's perfect world), wouldn't be necessary. the rejection made sense when you inquired further on it and all you would need to do was make some adjustments and try again.

it was the same type of drive you wish he'd have with his own stubborn clients. when something in a blueprint doesn't or can't work out due to literal safety and impossibility, you wish he'd just tell them so and just say no. though almost always, he caves. he's proud of his work, but you also know it weighs heavily on him as a 'genius architect'.

that overloaded, perfectionist mindset was exactly why he always forgets the small things not pertaining to work.

the middle of the day comes and just before it goes by with the tick of the clock hand, your name is called from afar. you could see your blonde worry-wart coming your way with mehrak close behind him. you stop in your strides in order for him to catch up with you and once he's within arm's distance he's slinging one of his over your shoulders to give you a small side-squeeze.

'running errands?' he asks before he's taking the books and files out of your arms and nods his head in the direction you were previously going. you learned long ago to not fight him on when he takes things from you so he could carry them in your stead. your arms had started going numb from the distance between your workspace and alhaitham's office where they were soon going to be delivered anyways.

'yup. documents and files for the acting grand sage to go over and review.'

'eugh,' kaveh shivers, 'can't you just refer to him by name? i doubt he cares if you drop the titles when you aren't even around him.'

'it's not very professional, kaveh. when im working i need to address him properly.'

'i dont see why. he wouldn't correct you if you just used his name.'

'he'd correct you though.'

'yeah to get under my skin!'

you laugh at the rise you start to get out of your lover before you lightly grabbed onto his bicep using it to tether you both together while his hands were occupied with your workload. the rest of the trip was filled with mindless, idle chatter- his favorite kind when with you. the moment you knocked on alhaitham's office door he had half a mind to stay out in the hall, but he couldn't just give your paperwork back to you. he had to see the duty of carrying your things for your through, even if that means getting a few rips from his grey-haired roommate.

'here are the documents i told you about before. they just need brief reviews and filing.'

'thank you,' alhaitham told you without so much as looking up to you. he knew kaveh was with you though. 'kaveh,' he started, 'y/n came to ask me if i had your keys this morning.'

kaveh basically dropped the paperwork on the desk since the acting grand sage decided to bring that up in the middle of the blond setting them down.

'they have a knack for suspecting when you have forgotten them,' alhaitham continued while kaveh distressingly looked to make sure no one was listening in while aggressively shushing him. alhaitham knew how to push his buttons.

still, kaveh was quick to search his person while you stood beside him amused. he pats his pockets and pants down, and even mehrak's digital expression twists, idly hovering nearby. acting anxious on his master's behalf. kaveh looks at you bewildered when his search comes up empty.

'how do you always-'

'i just do.' you answer him. 'dont worry, if the acting grand sage is kept busy you can stay at my home until he's back.'

'you're more than welcome to keep him,' the rip to kaveh went discarded as the blond just kissed your check in appreciation. 'please keep that out of my office,' alhaitham sighed. kaveh just sneered childishly at his previous underclassmen.

'consider that payback.'

'for what exactly?'

'oh, 'for what', he asks. for your little attempt to pester me just a moment ago!'

'oh, my apologies. i thought you hadn't heard me.'

'well, i did!'

'boys,' you intervene before they both get too worked up. 'i don't want to listen to you both squabble, so if that's all you need from me acting grand sage, i'll be going.'

'yes,' alhaitham sets his sights back to you, 'that'll be fine. thank you.' he thanks you again before you turn and start making your way out. kaveh makes it a point to grab your hand and swing your interlocked limbs dramatically on the way out, just to show the other man what for.

on other days, you're lucky enough for alhaitham to allow you to stay over with kaveh. he allows it for a couple of reasons: it keeps kaveh from hammering away on projects all night because he won't let you sleep by yourself and you have a tendency to placate the blond so the mornings can run much more smoothly than if it were just the two of them. also, you make coffee for both of them and any chance he gets to drink coffee he didn't have to go through the effort to brew himself gives him just a bit more time to himself and his books.

you were standing in the kitchen of their shared home in one of kaveh's open-back shirts. you had tried one on for fun once since they were so interestingly designed and found the open fabric was nice to sleep in since it didn't trap the stuffy sumeru night air.

as usual, alhaitham was the first awake and walking around. you shared sounds of morning humming before you give him his coffee and he meanders off somewhere to read. not long after, kaveh was waking up and stumbling bleary-eyed into the kitchen lured by the smell of coffee. you also hand him his mug of coffee with too much creamer in it and he receives it along with a peck to your lips.

'hmm,' he hums still groggy. 'your lips are warm.'

'well, i did drink come coffee myself. probably from that.'

'really? i didn't taste it.' he teases, wanting to try and 'taste' the coffee you drank before alhaitham shouted from the other room.

'take it out of my kitchen..!'

you spend the morning sharing kaveh's space and helping him get dressed and ready. he let you braid his hair and place his feather behind his ear. he helps you get dressed and flatten out any uncomfortable wrinkles in your clothes. along the morning quiet, he would place kisses anywhere he could. on your nape as he helps adjust your collar. your shoulder before you pull on your shirt after discarding his. on your wrist when you're braiding his hair messing it up in the process so you have to start over.

neither of you would talk much, but the messages conveyed through actions and small kisses are enough for an early day. you both hear alhaitham leave which lets kaveh loop his arm around your waist and swing you around playfully to his chest and hold you there for a bit before you both finally finish up.

just before kaveh leaves ahead of you since he doesn't let you open the door yourself, you snag the long, dark ends of his hair and effectively stop him. he whines before turning to you.

'aren't you forgetting something?' he racks his brain and even merak looks confused behind his shoulder with digitally upturned brows. he runs a quick mental checklist before a look of understanding crosses his face. he steps back over the threshold and the toes of his boots tap against yours. you weren't expecting the sudden proximity as you lean backward and almost stumble before his arm is wound around your back and his other hand gently guides your chin up.

behind the walls of the entrance and cracked open door, he kisses you sweetly. once on your lips, then the corners of your lips, then your cheeks, and then one more peck to your lips. he looks at you satisfied and only leans his chest away from you as you lift your arm.

'that was very flattering, but i meant these.' you both start laughing at the sight of his keys dangling between the two of you. his small keychain bearing witness to the overly affectionate kisses early in the morning.

'thanks, sweetheart,' he tells you before gently taking them and placing them safely in his pocket. he kisses you one more time on the forehead and finally starts to make his way out with you to start his day.

at least he didn't forget them today since you were there to remind him. he can only wait on pins and needles for the day he can do this in his own private home with you and not one where alhaitham ruins the mood all the time.

[goldenglock-preacher]

Since you were looking for short goldenglock ideas...

Grisha notices that John is like...severely depressed today. More than usual. He starts trying anything to cheer him up, just throwing himself at John in every way possible, cuddling with him, babbling on and on about nothing to keep him entertained, etc. Until eventually he resorts to telling John outright how much he cares about him, and that's the one thing that seems to get through.

(No pressure, idk if you take writing prompts!)

Omg thank you and yes please send me all the prompts you can come up with I will take every opportunity to write about these fuckers and not worry about the main fics plot progression. That post was basically asking for prompts.

Things take place after the 4th movie so John cuts ties with everyone and is in Grisha’s circle “full-time”, living with him. Decided to make it take place in a longer span than a day because Grisha is way too dumb to find a solution that quickly. 

Idk how we got here but now there’s also insomnia??

“I worry about you.”

John is hands down the calmest person in Grisha’s circle. Nobody has the same amount of emotional control, which often made him the supportive rock involuntarily. This group full of relationship drama and misunderstandings would just gravitate towards him, like a voice of reason, even though he wasn’t the best at giving advice. 

Being able to make him smile was Grisha’s biggest accomplishment but recently…he just couldn’t manage to do it. Everything that worked before just suddenly stopped and he would see John get lost in his own mind more than usual. 

- John, listen, something bit Volodya in the ass and now he’s throwing an absolute shitstorm my way, so we have to leave in like-

- I’ll stay.

Grisha’s thoughts break off, as he tries to put on his leather jacket in a haste.

- Are you…sure?

It might sound silly but this was somehow the thing that triggered Grisha’s alarm. Nearly every time Grisha tells John about his plans, the man is already at the door. He doesn’t always end up being useful but he still finds these little adventures entertaining enough to join in even on the most mundane tasks. They were basically inseparable. 

- Yeah…

Grisha would have stayed, if the phone wasn’t aggressively vibrating in his pocket right now.

- Okay then…see you for dinner?

John nods.

God, it felt weird saying that. 

****

He felt bad being out of the house for so long and when he came back, he expected to see John asleep at this point…but he wasn’t. He was laying on the couch, staring at the blank TV screen. There was an empty take-out bag in the kitchen. To Grisha’s surprise, John seemed to have ordered delivery while he was home.

Grisha completely stopped using delivery once he moved in, because John would rather cook himself. So all of this was really uncharacteristic for him. 

- I’m home.

He finally spoke up, watching John slowly sit up.

- What, not even a bark?

Grisha lets out a laugh, hoping that he will break John with just the stupidity of that sentence but it’s like he didn’t even register the words.

- What are you doing up so late anyways? It’s…

Grisha checked his watch

- 3 AM.

- Just…didn’t feel like sleeping.

John answered in a mellow voice. 

- C’mon John, I was gone for just a day, no way you started missing me this much already!

He was sure that this would at least pull a protest out of John but, once again, it’s like he didn’t have any energy for Grisha’s antics, which made the conversation awkward, to say the least. His joking was completely cut short and now he didn’t have any ideas. 

****

He took a whole day off, just to stay with John and convince him to go outside. They were side by side the whole day, just one on one, with nothing to do but bast in each other’s company…but it didn’t help. John still seemed to not be entirely here, instead drowning in his thoughts that Grisha, sadly, couldn't read. He was desperately showing John love at this point, not letting the man’s skin breath without him for too long. Shoulder grabs, holding hands, hugs, as if his touch could send a message. John didn’t push him away but wouldn’t respond much either, like a stone statue. 

****

Is insomnia contagious? It started to feel like it is. Grisha was laying on the bed for what feels like an eternity but the inner turmoil of knowing that John is not happy right now, makes his eyes stay open. He couldn't just leave him like this...so he got up.

Grisha walks into the living room and leans on the wall, crossing his arms, watching John mindlessly sitting on the floor and staring at the screen. He wasn’t actually watching it, none of the channels registered in his brain. He just pressed the remote button over and over again, in a rhythm, even. He wasn’t really asleep but also not awake. It was hard, seeing him like this. Despite his talents and strengths, lack of sleep can take anyone out.

Grisha sighs, with a bit of hesitation, but finally gets enough courage to step towards him.

- Sorry, did I wake you up?

John addressed him first but didn’t look away. At least he’s aware that Grisha is standing there, next to him…which is something.

- I worry about you.

He delivers it to him straight, which seemed to have grabbed his attention. John’s finger stopped clicking the button, now looking at nothing but static. He was still silent so Grisha didn’t have much choice other than just continue. 

- I’m watching you get tortured by things outside of my understanding and there’s nothing I can do. 

John gently places the remote on the floor, as if to make sure the sound doesn’t interrupt him.

- I want to give you everything. I want to make it better but I’m just…too stupid to figure out how.

He couldn’t be sentimental without at least an awkward joke for too long. John lowers his head, looking at the floor. He’s trying to hide his face with his hair.

- You deserve happiness…or sleep, at least. 

Grisha gestures to the TV.

- I’m so lucky to have a chance to be the one to give you that happiness…but I don’t know how to help a man who’s stronger than I could ever be.

After a beat, John picks up the remote once again but only to turn the TV off. He leaves the remote on the floor and finally gets up on his feet. His eyes, slightly watery. 

- Let’s go to bed.

[tmsnetwork]

In case anyone has questions about the BradleyLaura Week themes and what some of the chosen ones mean, we’ve come here to clarify some of them. I do want to remind everyone of something I always have as a rule of thumb: YOU’RE FREE TO INTERPRET ANY THEME AS YOU WISH! So feel free to go wild. Now, without further ado, to the themes.

DAY 1: Fake Dating/Marriage

Characters pretend to be dating or married for some specific reason, which could range from needing to solve a problem, fulfill a condition, or to achieve a particular goal. This trope explores the tension, comedic situations, and romantic development that arises from maintaining this facade, often leading to genuine feelings between the characters involved.

DAY 2: Canon Compliant

These stories adhere closely to the established universe, characters, and events as they are presented in the original work. Fanworks in this category aim to expand upon or delve deeper into the canonical narrative, exploring untold stories, hidden perspectives, or further character development that aligns with what's officially recognized in the source material.

DAY 3: Jealousy

Focuses on the emotion of jealousy within relationships, whether they be romantic, platonic, or somewhere in between. This trope can drive the plot by creating conflict, misunderstandings, or realizations of deeper feelings. It's about how characters navigate and resolve these intense emotions and what it reveals about their relationships.

DAY 4: Domestic

Centers on the everyday lives, routines, and intimate moments of characters living together or spending a lot of time in each other's personal spaces. This trope highlights the comfort, challenges, and humor found in domesticity, offering a closer look at how characters interact in private, mundane settings away from larger conflicts or adventures.

DAY 5: Enemies to Lovers

This trope explores the journey from animosity and conflict to understanding, respect, and romantic love. It's about the development of the relationship between characters who start as adversaries, showcasing their growth, the breakdown of barriers, and how they come to see each other in a new light.

DAY 6: Headcanons

Fics or content based on fans' personal interpretations, beliefs, or theories about characters, relationships, or events that may not be explicitly stated in the source material. These can range from character backstories to hidden motivations, exploring areas not covered or specified by the original work.

DAY 7: Weddings

Revolves around the planning, lead-up to, or the event of a wedding. This trope can explore themes of love, commitment, family dynamics, and the stress and joy of organizing or being a part of such a significant event. Stories might focus on the couple getting married, the perspectives of their friends and family, or the aftermath of the wedding. It can also involve other people's weddings, outside the main ship.

BONUS DAY: Any AU (Alternate Universe)

Fanfics set in alternate universes reimagine characters in different settings, timelines, or realities from their original context. This could include modern AUs, historical settings, fantasy worlds, or completely unique universes with different rules and structures. AUs allow for creative freedom in exploring how characters might interact or develop outside their canonical environment.

[kaurwreck]

Random but you’re post about writing in fandoms that aren’t enriching in any way was actually like super helpful to me by putting into the words my biggest problem with the fandom I was formally in(BSD). The way so many BSD fans seem so go-ho on ignoring any interesting conversation about such a rich story in favour of boiling every character down to tropes that don’t apply to them and forcing romance between every dynamic because for some reason even in a story about human connection the only relationship BSD characters care about is romantic the concept of just writing for your own exploration of the story rather than for other people is exactly what I’ve been wanting to do for a while especially as the issues such mischaracterisation and the such like continue on so I just wanted to say thanks for giving me a different way to look at things.

I'm so happy it was helpful! Engaging in these conversations is immensely helpful to me, too; they give me an opportunity to reflect on and dissect my own understanding or misunderstanding of things, and they help me refocus on seeking enrichment rather than incitement.

Both are forms of stimulation, and it's easy for me to get wrapped in the latter when I'm craving the former. It can become a vicious cycle of craving enrichment >> seeking it through the most accessible stimulation (scrolling on my phone) >> becoming incited by something the algorithm thrusts at me because it knows not that I'm a warm creature afflicted by the weakness, yearning, and selfishness unique to the hearts of men and tricolor cats >> I feed my incitement which does not feed me in return >> I'm still craving enrichment and that unmet need settles beneath my skin restlessly >> so I seek it through the most accessible stimulation (scrolling on my phone) >> and so it goes

But we are not Prometheus; there aren't any chains, and we do not need to plaster ourselves to any rocks or offer our livers to any eagles.

Once engagement becomes frustrating rather than enriching, that's your impetus to go read a chapter from a book you've been meaning to start, poke your head outside to find something mundane to marvel over, hang upside down for a new perspective, eat something sweet or salty or sour, journal until you feel less like Light Yagami, engage in a hobby or creative project, bother your tricolor cat by kissing her all over her head until she looks at you like she'd call you a slur if she could, etc., etc.

It's individualized; whatever pop of brighter, energizing, time-limited stimulation works to interrupt the Cycles so that you have the bandwidth to distinguish what you want and need from what your lizard brain thinks will suffice.

[sputnikodin]

doing way way better now than i have been doing for most of my life has me sitting quietly many mornings thinking about how i was never going to get anywhere substantial with any of my attempts to fix my brain, over the course of twelve years at this point, without first fighting my way out of the twin chains of my fear & my complete misunderstanding of love. and how i could not see those chains or feel them and thought they were simply embedded into the world around me, inseparable from it, part of its innate logic, as unquestioned as gravity. twelve years of throwing myself at the invisible wall strengthened my determination and resilience and bought me a little freedom; i don't regret them. but all my carefully researched and devised and implemented methods and attempts and attacks amount to absolutely nothing compared to a handful of moments, largely out of my control, partly random and partly attributable to the actions of other people, that began to shape me into something that had what it needed.

i can trace where i am now to my hard work and perseverance and all that but also and primarily to, like, an incident at a laundromat, and my first time doing shrooms, and contextually mundane occasions when the transformative love of my partner shot giant bullets of light through whatever shell had calcified around me and left me as terrified and naked and dying and adored as a jellied sea animal on the shore. and interactions with food service workers. and my friends. it's wildly humbling, and awe-inspiring, realizing just how deeply buried i was and how i could never have gotten out of there alone. not for lack of trying or lack of intelligence or lack of moxie but because i needed an outside world to touch me and i couldn't seek the touch myself because i didn't know it was out there, i didn't know what i was looking for, i didn't know i was underground or behind a wall or wrapped in chains, or whatever. all of it. any metaphor you can think of to describe someone incredibly lonely and scared and convinced that they're not incredibly lonely and scared, and unaware of their deep and starving need to feel themselves be loved, understood, respected, and forgiven.

it has sort of turned my mind around on a lot of things including the ways i try to help others. i mean i still give advice a lot even if i know it's probably not going to do much because no one else's advice ever did much for me -- i suppose i'm endlessly hoping that i'll word something i learned in such a way that it will break through someone else's pile of earth. but i know, in my gut, now, that really what benefits people most is loving them and reaching out to them and letting whatever touches them touch them. that's how it went for me, at least. and really what a blessing it is to not try to fix or teach people but rather to be solid and warm and trust that that will, at some point, even if it's not from you, be enough.

[yesterdayiwrote]

1, 3, 12, 17, 22 for the ask game (feel free to not answer all if you don't want!)

the character everyone gets wrong

I think the obvious answer here for me is George, just because I think he has a deceptively complex character that people don't always pick up on or misunderstand? I think a lot of people see him as some kind of 1 dimensional 'posh boy' and actually I think there's a lot of light and shade in there. I think people are starting to write a lot more 'tortured' George which kind of touches on some of the nuances but yeah... I've seen a lot (and definitely written some too) where I'm like... This doesn't capture everything because there's SO many intriguing facets!

I also don't think I've ever read a Lewis characterisation that I love? I think people tend to... woobify him too much and he ends up nearly always being written as too passive and chill in fics?

3. screenshot or description of the worst take you've seen on tumblr

Hmmm this is a tough one. I can’t think of any stand out terrible takes. I think tumblr (and all fandom) can be a bit black and white when it comes to discourse and fail to address the nuances at times. I think people are a bit reactionary when it comes to real life age gap discourse for example, especially considering how many people will ship something with a similar age gap, if that makes sense?

Oh! That one account who kept insisted MV was the biggest victim of online abuse in all of F1 was a WILD ride for certain!

12. the unpopular character that you actually like and why more people should like them

Idk that I particularly like anyone that's especially 'unpopular'? I guess loads of people hate George but tbh they're just wrong. I'm still not entirely sure why he seems to rile people more than others? Some people seem to think he's Satan and it's hilarious really, he's just an awkward guy who tries too hard?!

17. there should be more of this type of fic/art

Im not sure that there's a specific type of fic I think is underrepresented? I like au probably more than canon and I'm a sucker for when the au is particularly mundane? So everyone's a student or they just... go to work like normal people? I've always sucked at writing them because normality doesn't give you a plot so you kind of need to come up with something meatier to tie it all together but I've read some great ones! Also for some unknown reason, I'm a sucker for single parent fics. The added dynamic of added well written child oc just always seems to hit right for some reason and I don't read much of it these days!

22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

I feel like the galex bike accident story is severely underrated (as are loads of other parts of galex lore, as I found out when I did that poll) but can you imagine nowadays if an f3 driver had to take an f2 driver to hospital because he’d had a bike accident when they were hanging out outside of racing, the absolute feral online reaction everyone would have to that news? So many parts of that story are just the stuff of fanfic… so much of their canon friendship is the stuff of fanfics and yet….!

[meanypunches]

I was recently rewatching the Marc Smerling documentary series A Wilderness of Error, based on the book of the same name by the famous film director Errol Morris, about the Jeffrey MacDonald murder case. Up front I will say it is my opinion that the physical evidence in this case and inconsistencies in oral testimony from a variety of observers point ‘beyond a reasonable doubt’ to Jeffrey MacDonald as the guilty party. After multiple unsuccessful appeals including to the Supreme Court who refused to hear the case, it is also clear that the legal system views this decision to be correct. Still society wants to peer into the ‘unmarked space’ of the event itself. Society it could be said is unreasonable. Perhaps society likes to entertain unreasonable doubts. One could call the entertainment of such doubts the ‘unmarked space’ or the horror implicit in modern society. This is often expressed as folklore or the stories we tell ourselves about terrible events that include both the true crime tales as well as the urban legends (or other modern non-oral / non-traditional media forms such as horror films and documentaries). Such events as the MacDonald murders become like scars rippling over the surface of the unmarked space as far as society can observe, and they will never fully heal. Society likes to pick at its most sensational and lurid scars. Ultimately all we have is the physical evidence and the testimony of those involved or connected to this case. While such evidence may satisfy the legal system, this is simply not satisfying from the human perspective, from the perspective of ‘the folk’, forever outside of these social subsystems like the law. The court has made its decision but somehow for such cases of wild destruction of innocent life this is never enough. The folk are restless! We want to see what lies at the heart of these dark woods, the mysterious empty hole at the bottom of the dark well. Absent a full confession, we want to peer into Jeffrey MacDonald’s heart and see if he is really a monster or not…

Fiction (and horror) like Twin Peaks solves this problem of the monstrous heart concealed within the mundane world of ordinary life by making it supernatural. The unmarked space becomes a supernatural other and in many ways this is a more satisfying view of the unknown (unmarked) space than human efforts to accept this terrifying uncertainty. We want to see the reality of what is hidden by the dark woods of the human heart, what lies beyond the limits of human knowledge and society’s scribblings in the form of legal opinions.

The other connection I have to this case is more personal. As a law student circa 2012 while interning at the DOJ I did legal research and wrote a short memo for Brian Murtaugh, who is the famous Asst. US Attorney who has dogged this case from its beginning and who successfully has repelled the appeals by MacDonald. At the time, I was excited to work on such a famous case - I saw Fatal Vision as a kid and was obviously interested in the outcome of MacDonald’s appeal. My memo was on a somewhat obscure and not so important issue regarding the Jimmy Britt story - Britt’s story turned out to be a lie as detailed in the documentary I would note. I will admit I didn’t understand who Brian Murtaugh was when I worked for him, and I now regret that I was too ensconced in my own law school worries to really appreciate it. Having read more about Murtaugh now I wish I had been more aware. I recall I misspelled the name MacDonald as “McDonald” in my memo and only noticed it later after I’d already turned it in. It was only a minor error in a sense - this memo was not going to the judge after all, but still I wish I had been a more thoughtful student. Sometimes in our youth we misunderstand the opportunities given to us and only feel it full force much later. I am not now an active member of the State Bar (so if you need legal advice all I can say is “hire an attorney” haha) but this legal training and my experience in law school certainly inform my views on society and the unmarked space.

My review below of the documentary series about the MacDonald case:

“We are compelled by narratives, much more by narratives than by evidence. Evidence invariably takes second fiddle to narrative,” says Errol Morris, in the final episode of the documentary series Wilderness of Error. Besides the specific folkloric phrase ‘second fiddle’, is this all really about folklore (stories, rumor, gossip and innuendo even)? Earlier in the last episode Morris suggests that the more people get involved in a story the more it turns into a mess, which cuts against folkloric stories that have survived over thousands of years. To quote Morris exactly, he says, “This may prove a different kind of principle, that if you wait long enough and you involve enough people in telling any story, you’re gonna end up with a mess on your hands.” From the perspective of a legal matter, in the short term (of half a century!) perhaps this is true. It may be that over longer historical timeframes the stories tend to solidify in structure due to certain significant features (“motifs”) that are memorable or more recognizable. Morris is the emperor here no doubt, and he may have no clothes. I think the director here mostly treats Morris with kid gloves, to continue the metaphor. There is only one point (and not until the final episode) where there is a direct challenge to Morris’s narrative, and the famous director does admit he ‘doesn’t know’ the truth. There are many other pieces of evidence (such as the blue pajama top and the blood evidence) to which it would have been more challenging for Morris to respond, but these items are mentioned but delicately sidestepped in the way this is put together. If you look at the disconnected pieces of this documentary objectively, it is not inconclusive. I also would want to say the only reason that various critics call it ‘inconclusive' is that heaven forbid any shadow be cast upon the darling Errol Morris! This movie destroys Morris, but in a subtle way that allows for, shall we say, ‘plausible deniability'. At the end of this, after watching the video interviews with Helena Stoeckley, there is little denying that she was likely delusional, or at best easily suggestible at the hands of Prince Beasley or others interested in a meal ticket from the MacDonald case. All the other evidence marshaled in favor of MacDonald’s innocence is either outright fabrications (as in the Jimmy Britt tall tale) or else unsupported by any corroborating (physical) evidence. The follow-up interview with Errol Morris after the last bit with Stoeckley describing the alleged intrusion on the night of the murders is awkward to say the least. Her story fails to match MacDonald’s version of events and also does not conform to the physical evidence. Like many visionaries, Mr. Morris can't seem to admit he was wrong, but more importantly, he will never admit that the system he seems to abhor so much was actually right.

[throwing-roses-into-the-abyss]

This might be the most Dutch addition because Dutch people LOVE their insurances but: don't forget insurance policies. from health insurance to travel insurance to funeral insurance. You work in HR? There's insurance policies for the company, for the employees, workplace protection, volunteers are often insured through the company. You work at a museum? Specific objects might be individually insured, the collection and buildings will have insurances, the volunteers will have insurance, if you're borrowing an object from a different museum or someone's borrowing from you or you're doing an exhibit outside the museum: there will be insurances. These all need paperwork.

Other museum specific paperwork because that's what I know lol:

acquisition (where the person bringing an object in officially signs away their rights to it)

registration (all the important information about the object like dating, material, the history of the object, a description of what it looks like, a description of it's state and any damages to it)

which is not to be confused with the inventory database where all this information is put into a software system together with a photo and a location (all museum objects have a specific numbered location assigned) and which has to be updated CONSTANTLY

loan forms (both when you're borrowing from another museum or when another museum is borrowing from you - this is both for insurance in case it gets damaged or breaks, and also for registration to know where an object is and who it belongs to, whose responsible for it, when it has to go back, etc)

Deaccessioning: if you remove a registered object from your collection it has to go through a whole series of steps including an official announcement, giving other museums the chance to take it instead, and removing it from your own database (both physical and online)

just in general museum work involves a surprising amount of list making of where objects are and where they're going and what their insurance is

Also a bit more morbid maybe but a death comes with a ton of paperwork too, including: insurances, wills, all contracts a person had like gas, electricity, mortgages, tv, internet, mobile phone, newspapers/magazines, streaming services, etc.

Anyway just remember that the core point of paperwork is risk avoidance: to have things written down and signed so you can prove things later on if necessary, whether that's to prove you and your company are who you say you are (correct files with correct document numbers) and that means you have the right to do Thing, that you have the right permissions from the right people to do Thing, and to shove it in people's faces when they're contradicting themselves and not sticking to contracts which they will do ALL the time. People will ignore contracts or find loopholes or misunderstand things or just generally constantly get really creative in finding ways around binding contracts and you need paperwork to prove what's up. So once you figure out what your character does at their mundane daily job, what kind of company they work at and what that company does, you can figure out what kind of paperwork they might need if you think about the kind of risks a company like this might have.

We don’t talk enough about how fanfiction writers love to give character large amounts of non-specific paperwork they hate doing

[vonkarma2]

wilted rose, shamrock, and cherry blossom for rocio and seedling for angel for the oc asks?

today I will answer asks from march 2023

🥀 [WILTED ROSE] How good is your OC at meeting deadlines? What motivates them?

Rocio is great at meeting deadlines, because unfortunately they have nothing and I mean nothing else going on in their life until after the story. They have mundane interactions with others occasionally, but they never go out and have no hobbies or interests or plans outside of their work. That sounds so miserable omfg.. They’re motivated by their otherwise extremely depressing life, and the fact that magic is their special interest 👍

If the deadline is something unrelated to magic or her adjacent studies then she’ll probably do it anyway because again, she has nothing better to do, but if it’s something she thinks is pointless or stupid she just won’t do it at all, and usually gets away with it because of her status.

🌸 [CHERRY BLOSSOM] Does your OC believe in legends/myths?

This is a good question, because I haven’t thought much about this universe’s like.. mythological history. Basically, the reason the main story takes place in the year 1940 is because they started counting from the end of the last major world-ending apocalypse, which left most of society completely destroyed. There was another one before this as well, but it was like 75,000 years ago and much more intense. No one in universe knows exactly what caused them, so there would probably be a lot of speculation and popular ideas as to why. Popular theory is probably that there was some unknown wizard who went literally insane, or that humans were close to figuring out magic entirely, so the world had to regain balance by bringing them to the verge of destruction. 

I think Rocio would be pretty skeptical about the second theory, she’s the type to be like yeah that's not how magic works 😐 that has never and would never happen 😐 because she does get genuinely annoyed by people who misunderstand or purposefully misinterpret these concepts. They like, aren’t personally too interested in the Renewals, but she would consider them a very important area of study and not something to be baselessly speculated about.

Other myths and legends would be magical creatures that shift into humans and live among them (she hates when people say this, it’s like the in-universe equivalent of thinking bigfoot is real), historical figures who get hyped up as like almost godlike or saintlike figures (if they’re a wizard she usually buys into it 100%, if not then she’s like tch they were just a person like any other don’t be silly), and maybe some hidden mythical locations (I think some of these would also have historical basis + she’s like yeah this is probably real). So as you can see they would be rather condescending about this type of thing, believing themselves to be an authority on the subject due to their knowledge of magic. To be fair, it is warranted in a lot of cases, since the line between legend and reality is often blurred + this is their area of expertise. And life’s work also

☘️ [SHAMROCK] How passionate is your OC about things they love/hate?

We have already gotten into things they love lol, I know I talked about it mostly in the context of their depressing life, but even if they had other things going on they’d still really love magic and its study and everything. It genuinely makes them happy to discuss and learn about + sometimes even provides connections to others who are the same way. Rocio and Malachi would vibe like crazy.

As for things that they hate. I think “passionate” implies they hate these things on principle, or want to convert others to their worldview. But a lot of things they “hate” are just like, mundane aspects of everyday life, that they’re honestly envious of other people who can handle them easily. Being touched or looked at closely or holding a conversation for example. Definitely also has mundane hates though, like she’s had to travel a lot so there’s definitely some areas or unpleasant experiences she has. Never visit Southern Mangualha bro “ohh the canals are so pretty” if you want to smell rotten fish the whole time and get way overcharged for housing. I think she is the type to seethe in silence over these things, but not actually try to convert others to her viewpoint, mostly because she usually thinks it is either impossible or unimportant.

🌱 [SEEDLING] What new passions/hates is your OC discovering?

I think Angel still has a lot to discover, since even during the story he only goes out for a short while and is too busy avoiding being killed to find something he is truly interested in yk.. It’s hard to say because I feel like he had all his passionate interests already, and now everything he’s discovering is something completely unremarkable like cooking or drinking or going out on the town. Which I suppose is kind of nice in a way. Oh, and I think he had also never seen the ocean or at least only seen it from afar + I think he’d really enjoy going to the beach. Catching fish + swimming + getting thrown around by waves and such.

As for hates though, I think this experience would give him a strong dislike of authority in general, whereas before he didn’t really care. He got put in danger and used as a resource and almost killed by Joanna and Gabriel*, and it wasn’t even personal, it was just to advance their own agendas. So from then on whenever he sees someone that’s like, ambitious or condescending or especially is in charge of any type of organization, he automatically strongly distrusts them, because he feels like they’re the type that’s willing to coldly use others. Similarly, he used to love + define himself by his royalty-adjacent status, but now he kind of hates it and wants people to interact with him on a personal level yk. Rather than something he has no control over. Also he discovered he hates sleeping on the ground in the woods with no blanket and being stabbed and his friends dying and being abandoned and being arrested and being imprisoned and his dad dying and

*indirectly through Victor and the wolf demon

[odetoagirl]

annas questions

upon starting a new diary, my first entry went as follows:

'i'm feeling so lost, i have no idea who i am or what i like or want to be and people say i have time, but i dont want to be searching my whole life, has it not been long enough? how much must i soul search? or am i mistake? have i been running to it or from it? would i even know the answer if i saw it? i cat stand this lack of identity anymore. who am i, what do i want, who can tell me; if i must find the answers myself surely there is a path to start on, or is my mind destined to wander through the universe. i feel as though i am blindly stumbling through time. what am i like, is there anything i like. there must be more than this. so badly i long for something to long for. i feel like a spinning compass.'

desperate as these thoughts had cycled for so long, and begging for external advice, i went to anna, trustedly, the most goal oriented, well-hobbied person i know. anna gave me a list of questions a long time ago that she posed to herself, to be able to understand herself better and what she wants and how to reach that goal. 25 questions.

months on in response to the long, unanswered list i wrote again on the subject:

'these questions have sat at the start of this book for months. for a person like myself, they are utterly redundant. i laugh at the sweet sentiment of writing them all down, because i knew as well then that they would remain unanswered. i just will never be able to reach them or understand the ant-like fulfilment of such mundane questions. life goals, maybe, sort of. but 'work responsibilities'... what the fuck does that eve mean. 'cultivating my best life' - have words more foreign ever been spoken to me? people have such a basal interest in the day to day'

a few days later i wrote again:

'some of anna's questions are very difficult for me because her method misunderstands my fundamental issue. i want for nothing. or if i do want for something i am so far disconnected from myself such knowledge alludes me. i am entirely satisfied and content or fulfilled or comfortable with nothing. i find myself comfortable with most things, and will happily tolerate most states. i am somewhat a person fully content. have i ever felt material desire? or ambition? can i envision a dream future self? do i even know how to dream or to work? i am unsure, wishing may be outside of my capabilities, desiring seems like it must be a constant state of hunger, and i am always satiated - or perhaps i merely have no stomach for it. maybe i just long to understand how they feel, to have the hunger to pull me, give me something to do. i think i am not very suited to this driven career focused society, perhaps i would prefer to return to animals. i suppose i do know how to yearn, for knowledge, for people, but i have never an ed goal. nothing to want to tangibly reach or possess. and i suffer from the arrogance that would lead me to believe this is some higher Buddhist outlook as though i were a monk and not a teenage girl, as though carnal desire does not bleed through in other areas of my life. but as for career goals? hobbies and skills, travelling, life goals, jobs to complete, roles to fulfil, purposes to serve? i have none. i wish to know everything, to possess all knowledge, and i wish for children, that's all i think. but i will try to engage in my whims, my wildest dreams, ad if i allow myself a second of room to think tit, then i might hear something in my whisper writer and it must stay small for to think of it is to feed it, the lust and make it grow greedier, and then would should be done, once born it must be fed, with dreaming and striving and actualising until the dream is swollen devastated and has left me starved and destitute and there is nothing left of me but an engorged dream that fed on hope and died in reality. what would i do then? perish with it, wilt ad wither with it's greed for company. far better to remain safe i think. for hope is not real for people like me, or rather perhaps it is far too pervasive, for how many attempts must i watch of my familiars dedicating time and energy and lives to no avail but a crushing disappointment. their hope a balloon lifting them up and up until it bursts and has them free falling to death, because everyone wants to believe it could be them who reaches the stars. well they shall not fool me. i intend to be comfortable and make home on the ground, i do not intend to look up, and when defeated souls fall at my feet i should take solace in the knowledge that i may face myself. where did these children learn that dreams can come true if you work hard, who were their cruel masters, did they believe it too? and why did no one ever tell me i could be whoever i wanted, achieve my dreams, was it me? did they not believe i could, or that they simply watched too many people fall from the sky to their feet?'

i laugh at myself, ever the amnesiac i am given the gift of friendship with my past self. every time i realise my own repression, my lack of identity, the need to learn what i like, out of habit i forget it soon after, the absorbing despair too much to face. do i ever get any closer? this time around i realised i wanted to be a writer, and to have children, which took so much work. as it would appear, six months ago i had the same revelation. but i forget, and spend hours of work and spoonfuls of tears and gut wrenching soul searching to realise the same thing again, and never any more it seems. so many passages about not knowing myself and having to discover what i like through unorthodox methods. at 30 feet down i find babies, the words, and must come up for air, by which point breathing feels so good forget to swim for a while. when i do i am back at square one, building up my stamina for weeks, learning to hold my breath and withstand the pressure of the water. i reach children, then prose, then the water compounds and my lungs beg for relief and i give up again. this time, i am telling myself, i will dive deeper. i have no idea where to start. i imagine this is exactly what i said last time before i gave up.

am i toolless in this echo chamber? by clawing at the walls in an attempt to escape a bed of desire, the covered the floor with dirt, and it piled high and left me in a broad room, atop mattresses of dirt and plaster and cement. but that inescapable pea of hope remains beneath me, i feel its discomfort, and the walls of this room are infinitely thick, as i scratch and scrape im no closer to escape, the layers just pile higher, and i stay unknowing of the grain beneath it all, but feeling insurmountably the discomfort of it below. i have only three options i think. i may continue to scrape away at the walls and pile my tower higher, knowing now that the walls do not hold freedom on the other side, and heightening the pile merely exacerbates the discomfort, or i might sit atop my throne and tolerate such discomfort and resolve myself to my imprisonment. or do i be brave. without tools, without help, without place to move my mattresses one by one i must begin to eat them, to literally swallow my fear piece by piece, and risk death by consumption in the process. i don't know if i even possess enough bravery to reach the pea, i don't know if starting to eat through it will fuel to go on or ruin me before completion. it is a wonder if i have another option but resignation. i have written around it long enough. i must begin my consumption if i hope to reach salvation. where to begin. how do i chew, how do i swallow, pound and compound. masturbatory mastication. I can't continue to just ruminate on the surface. the illusion that i have forever is a false one, and i have to reach that fucking pea whilst i still have time to eat it. it cannot be talked through, or around or on, it cannot be learnt its way out of. i have to turn around and face it.

[dancingbabya]

I like the mundane, I realize it more and more considering how scarred I was as a child from the action and war displayed in media. (Both fictional and real) but as I’ve gotten older I don’t care much for the fantastical, I find it appealing and I enjoy it but I’ve been curious about the other side of things.

For example I was talking to my mom. I’m in my mid twenties btw, growing up I watched all the live action x-men movies with my parents. We also watched other super hero shows like justice league, TMNT, TeenTitans, and some stuff like Smallville.

I started thinking: does Superman (Clark Kent) eat or drink certain things just to appear normal? Because as a Kryptonian his senses and abilities are heightened due to our yellow sun, correct? Like his hearing is so strong that he can hear everyone heartbeats, canonically he heard Louis’s death and flew around the world backward to reverse time (this is like the old old movies I forgot when I watched it) just to save her from death.

↑ cause of this example shouldn’t there have been far more consequences in the gander scheme of things in the older shows. I know it’s just a movie, but previously things like the movies information was tied into the shows. Meaning it wouldn’t be too far fetched for the show to present the aftermath of reversing…

That wasn’t the point I’ll go on that tangent another day. If Superman’s senses (the five senses specifically) are heightened wouldn’t that mean all his life he’s tasted food and drinks far different from human?

IMO let me spell this out so I don’t get people yelling at me. In my opinion, I don’t think Clark would drink coffee because he wants to. He’d do it to fit the whole journalist drinking coffee because your up all hours of the night or things like that. Because coffee can be supper bitter if prepared incorrectly, not to mention sometimes when you work in an office you’ll get an asshole who takes the first freshly brewed cup of coffee leaving the rest of the coffee much weaker. (Having working in an office setting this grinded my gears even if my cup of coffee is mostly milk and sugar)

Yes, he could add copious amounts of milk and sugar (mans was raised on a farm so I feel like he’d be very picky about things like that too.) But I feel like he would also as a person who isn’t human wouldn’t be affected by things like alcohol or coffee. Things we consume that can affect our brain would have no affect on his because his body wouldn’t allow for that due to our yellow sun. He’d much prefer to drink and consume things he finds enjoyable. So I think he’d enjoy tea, and he’s never like dicky about it he’s a mild mannered reporter remember? Raised on a farm from infancy to maybe 18 or twenty, no one would think he has an accent because he’s practiced speaking proper since he decided to be a journalist he didn’t want any kind of misunderstandings. Tangent right I’ll go back to my point.

Clark would enjoy tea. But I feel like as someone raised on a farm he would let you know if you make bad tea. He wouldn’t be mean about it either. He’d try to be so kind about it, obviously not everyone is kind when they feel insulted.

That’s not to say he isn’t curious to try other foods and things outside of just America, but I think Clark’s pallet is very southern food centric. So he did have tips or recommendations on cooking when he started living with Louis. I feel like she’d get snippy with him and just tell him to cook in that case and he did. Clark would do all the cooking at home and no one can stop him. In the hustle and bustle of the city life yeah it isn’t easy to cook everyday but he tries his hardest. I personally think he’d have a little balcony garden of fresh herbs or veggies that he can’t seem to find in the city or they just aren’t up to his standards (his parents are absolutely sending him produce in the mail, and he brings come of it back to his apartment when he goes to visit them)

Thank you for listening to my rambling I just thought it was an interesting thing to think about and maybe I’m not following the right people who like superheroes the way I do.