#did you know even if you have a part time job you have to go to it to get paid???

[lovelettersfromluna]

Under Your Spell

summary: what’s that old saying? Best way to get over someone is to get under…..yeah yeah, we all know where this going, don’t we?

an: Hi! Long time no see, huh? I hope you’ve all been doing well! I’ve missed it here a lot, more than you could ever know. The semester is over, and I’m finally free! (For a little bit). College is very hard, and it took a lot of me this year, but let’s not get into that right now. This chapter has been VERY long awaited, and I am so sorry that it’s taken this long to get to you all. This one is pretty short, but not only did I want to get it out to you all in time, but I also have lots planned for the next chapter! (Luna you’re putting four parts into one of your fics???) I know I know, shocker right? Anyways, I hope you all enjoy this past despite it being short! Love you 🤍🤍🤍

warnings: MDNI!, 18+ fic only, slight smut, lots of angst, mean!Ellie, idiot!Ellie??, Abby’s in this one hehe, making out, drinking, let me know if I missed anything!

Part 1, Part 2

Sleeping in your bed had become extremely difficult.

It was like every time you laid your head against the soft pillows, your skin sliding against the soft material of your sheets, your brain would be filled with images of Ellie. The feeling of her lips on your throat, her hands on your hips, everything she’d given to you was permanently burned into your memory.

You couldn’t get away from her, no matter what you did.

You let out a soft sigh as you sat at your old desk, your cheek resting against your palm as your fingers traced along the smooth material of the wood. Things had gotten a lot trickier after your last night with Ellie, your mind clouded with confusion regarding the entire ordeal.

Ellie had….sought out for you. She definitely did the first time but there was something about her coming home from a night out, and slipping into your sheets that had your mind in shambles. It didn’t make any sense, you were sure that whatever happened between you and Ellie was a one off, something that was influenced mainly by alcohol and forced proximity. The played out story of the brother’s best friend ending up in a sticky situation with the younger sister. It was cliche, but it happened.

That didn’t change that it left your stomach in knots every time you heard the floorboards creak near Ellie’s room.

You’d done a pretty good job at avoiding her and the entire situation. It meant that you were in complete and total lockdown, even worse than before, however it saved any awkward tension, which you’d much rather trade for a few months of complete isolation.

But as all good things did, it was coming to an end.

Because you were given a choice, one that dangled your pride, and your social life in your face, forcing you to choose which you valued more.

Every summer, a huge party was thrown down at the beach. You and your brother joined as soon as you were old enough to drink, your parents went when they were younger, their parents went, and nearly everyone in your town experienced it at least once. It was like a tradition, one that every young person would look forward to.

It was one of your favorite parts about being home for the summer.

However, there wasn’t a party thrown in town that your brother and Ellie wouldn’t join.

And that’s where your choice came in.

You’d been going back and forth with yourself all week, weighing out the pros and the cons of it all. You knew that there were ways to get around her, to make sure that you wouldn’t see here while you were out there. To top it all off, you hated the idea of letting Ellie rip away one of your favorite things to do while you were home, giving her that much power didn’t make any sense to you.

But you still couldn’t push yourself to do it.

You swiveled your chair back and forth, staring up at your ceiling as you struggled to make a decision. However the clock was ticking, and the party was officially happening tonight. You didn’t have much time to go back and forth with yourself anymore.

It was either you swallow your pride, go out and enjoy yourself for the first time since everything happened with Ellie, ultimately standing up for yourself and sending her a big fuck you while doing so…

Or

You let her win. You sacrifice your time there and you let Ellie steal your time. You let her make a fool out of you by being too hung up on the very weird attention she’d been giving you, and you stay in your room for yet another night while everyone else is having the time of their lives.

Thinking of it that way didn’t leave you much of an option, did it?

You practically rip your room apart looking for the perfect outfit to wear, which ends up being a pink halter top that flows down a bit at the ends, a pair of your favorite denim shorts and your sneakers. By the time you’re finishing up your hair and your makeup, you hear the faint sound of your brothers minions showing up, pairing that with the music that starts playing leaves you to figuring they’re probably pregaming before they leave.

That’s when it starts feeling real.

You let out a deep sigh as you stare in the mirror, fixing your top over your chest before fluffing out your hair and fixing your lip gloss, giving yourself a gentle affirming nod before you push your phone into your back pocket and head downstairs.

A blanket of silence falls between Derek and his friends when they notice you, multiple sets of eyes zeroing in on you as you slip between your brother and one of his friends silently to pour a shot before throwing it back with ease. Hazels the first to comment on it.

“Awe man, I didn’t think the first grader could hang….you joining us tonight sweetie?” She taunts, her perfect teeth pressing down into her plush bottom lip as she stares at you, a challenging look in her eye.

Derek is the next one to speak up, a surprised look on his face as he stares down at you. “Wait…really? You’re coming with us?” He quips hopefully. Had Hazel kept her fucking mouth shut, you probably would’ve found the sentiment sweet from him.

You inhale deeply to calm yourself, staring down into the empty shot glass before you finally raise your eyes to look at Hazel, only to find her standing across the island, her back pressed into Ellie’s chest as her tattooed hands toy with the exposed skin of Hazel’s waist.

You completely ignore Ellie’s eyes burning holes into you.

“Shut the fuck up Hazel” you bite back before pouring another shot.

Your words earns reactions from the group instantly, even your brother chuckling softly as he gives you a proud smile. Hazel however, is not amused in the slightest.

Her poker face drops for a moment, nostrils flaring as she stares you down like she wants to jump over the table and have you for herself, but she quickly picks it up, giving you an impressed smirk before she nods slowly.

“Ahh so she speaks…my apologies sweetheart” she practically grits out before she lets out an annoyed sigh.

“Let’s go then. I don’t wanna be late” she quickly seethes out, pushing herself out of Ellie’s arms so she can grab her purse that was sitting on the couch.

You trail behind the others after your brother reassures you things will be okay, giving him a soft smile as you all pile into his car, ultimately missing the way Ellie’s eyes trail you the entire times

The car ride there feels nostalgic. The summer breeze turns cooler the closer you get to the familiar beach, your brother blasting his music in the front as you rest your head against the edge of the window, letting the wind blow through your hair.

It makes you wish things were different. The warmth in your chest would’ve paired so well with a better crowd, one that didn’t see you as the annoying little sister that tagged along when she really shouldn’t be.

Your mind takes you to an alternate reality where things are different, one where you get along with your brother’s friends. You wonder if they’d like you if they gave you the chance, if they weren’t predisposed to not liking you simply because you’re younger than them…

You wonder if things had been different, if you and Ellie could’ve been something.

Because clearly there’s attraction there, there had to be. Were you so wrong for even letting your brain wander there? Wondering what life would be like if you and Ellie were cordial, let alone experimenting with a relationship in a normal way, and not the way you’d been going on for this past summer.

What would it be like if she treated you the way she treated Hazel while others were around? What would it be like if you were in Hazel’s position? Propped up in Ellie’s lap while the others sang songs and joked around with each other?

You’d never know, because you were in this reality, not a perfect one.

You don’t even realize when your brother pulls up to the beach. The gentle shake of the car as his friends practically run out is what rips you away from your thoughts. You clear your throat as you make your way out once everyone is gone, brushing down your outfit as you make your way down the familiar path to the beach. The beach is blossoming with the sound of life. Loud music quickly surrounds you, people dancing, swimming, drinking, it’s almost so perfect it feels cliche, and that alone reminds you that you’d made the right decision by deciding to come out.

You’re the moth, and the ocean is your flame.

It draws you in closer as you sip the drink from your solo cup, appreciating the pattern of the tide rolling in, wetting the sand beneath it, only to then pull back out shortly after. It’s what you’d missed most about the beach in your home town, its ability to calm you no matter what was almost remarkable, even with the crowd of people around you.

You have to stop yourself from walking too far down the beach, knowing deep down that Derek’s friends would take any chance to ditch you while we’re oblivious to what was going on. It’s how you end up out on one of the piers, your legs dangling over the edge as you stare up at the moon, watching as the waves roll in while you sip on your drink.

There’s heavy footsteps along the wooden pier, ones that you don’t quite catch between the heavy sound of the waves, and the music nearby. It isn’t until a familiar voice rings in your ear that you realize you’re not alone.

“You know I heard you were back in town….but I thought there’s no way you’d come back without texting me first” the words come from behind you, and your eyes widen once you catch the tall frame standing over you.

Abby Anderson

She was one of your closest friends back in elementary school. It wasn’t nice to admit, but you’d drifted apart once you both got to high school. It was in the most natural way possible, but she always managed to stick around in your mind from time to time.

Before all of that, you two were stuck at the hip. It was a similar friendship to Ellie and your brother, the two of you always running through your house, causing many headaches for both your parents and her parents whenever you were both together.

You hadn’t seen Abby in years since you left for college, it’d been so long that you didn’t even realize how long it had been.

Her physique was quite the sign that time had passed though.

You gasp softly when you realize it’s her, quickly pushing yourself up off the pier to push yourself into her already opened arms.

“I didn’t know you came back for the summer…god it’s been so long” you sigh out against her broad shoulders, the sweet smell of her perfume filling your nose as you let your eyes flutter shut, relishing in the feeling of her strong arms wrapping around your waist.

“You’d know if you thought to hit me up once in a while” she teases. You can hear the smirk in her voice as she keeps you close. It makes you giggle softly as you finally pull away from her, wanting to get a good look at the girl.

She’s just as pretty as you remember. Abby always had the prettiest blonde hair, and the most charming smile. Those were never things that you failed to notice about your friend, however she’s different now. She’s taller, her build a hell of a lot more stronger than when you were in elementary school, her hair longer and tucked into a thick braid…

You have to stop yourself from staring.

She peers down into your cup, noticing that you were getting empty. She nods her head towards the bonfire before speaking.

“Let’s top you up while you tell me alllll about your life in the big city, yeah?” She offers, to which you dumbly nod to as you follow next to her almost obediently.

After that, the two of you were glued to the hip the entire night. Between catching up on what life had brought the two of you within your adult years, and reminiscing over your time as kids, the world could be burning around the both of you and you two wouldn’t have noticed a thing. For the first time since you’d came home, you had finally found someone to spend time with.

And Ellie notices the entire thing.

Her eyes were on you the entire night. From the moment you came downstairs at the house, it was like she was under some fucked up spell that made it so she couldn’t function unless you were in her line of view. She couldn’t count on her hands how many annoyed sighs she received when her friends realized she wasn’t listening to what they were saying, instead busying herself with figuring out where the hell you were.

She tracked you like she was the predator, and you were her prey. She made sure you didn’t stray too far away from the group, made sure you didn’t do something stupid like strip naked to take a quick dip into the cold ocean. She was just being helpful! It wasn’t like she felt her mouth go dry every time it looked like someone was going to approach you….

And its like fate was on your side that night, because the moment Abby approached you at the dock, Hazel was settling herself into Ellie’s lap, toying with the hair at the nape of her neck and ultimately blocking you from her view completely.

The next time she does get a chance to see you again, you’re wrapped up in none other than Abby Anderson’s arms.

It’s just her luck, isn’t it? That out of every girl in your small beachside town, you choose that fucking idiot. You choose the girl that everyone knows to be Ellie’s sworn fucking enemy since forever. The only explanation is that you’re doing this on purpose. You know exactly what to do to get under Ellie’s skin. You did it when you were flirting with Jesse right in front of her, you did it when you kicked her out of your bedroom the last time you two were together, and you were doing it right fucking now by getting all cozy with Abby fucking Anderson.

So of course, she has to try and stop this.

But Ellie soon realizes that she spends way too much time mentally dwelling over this, and accusing you of something she knew deep down was very much out of character for you, because the second her eyes search for the two of you, she’s met with something she can only assume was pulled out of her worst nightmare.

You and Abby hand in hand as she helps you into her car.

Ellie is quick to push Hazel off her lap, her eyes now frantically searching for your brother. Once she spots him, she’s interrupting his conversation the moment she opens her mouth.

“Hey man…have you um….do know where your sisters going right now?” She asks almost out of breath, her eyes shifting quickly between Derek and Abby’s truck as she pulls out of her spot in the parking lot.

Your brother raises his eyebrows as he looks back to where you are in the girls car, nodding as he takes a sip of his drink. “Yeah, she just came and told me her friend is gonna take her home” he explains casually with a shrug before he tries to turn back to his conversation.

Ellie scoffs in disbelief at his casual tone, her hand reaching forward to grab his shoulder and turn him around to face her again.

“Friend? Did you even see who she was leaving with?” Her voice is laced with worry and distress as she complains to your brother, the man oblivious to Ellie’s frantic demeanor.

“Wasn’t it just Abby? They’ve been friends forever…I honestly don’t trust anyone other than that girl. Have you seen her fucking arms? I think my sister is in good hands with her” he chuckles softly as he gives Ellie’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Between his words and his reaction to the entire thing, Ellie feels like she’s going to lose her fucking mind.

Her green eyes go wide as she stares at your brother before she gives a laugh of disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me? It’s just Abby? As in Abby fucking Anderson? Are we talking about the same girl here? Or are you suffering from fucking brain damage?” She snaps back.

Her wild eyes and mean words take your brother back, his playful laughter dying down once he realizes that he friend is quite literally tweaking over the fact that you’ve left with the girl that he knew she had some beef with.

“Woah…calm down man. It’s just my sister, your beef with Anderson doesn’t really have anything to do with her…she’ll be fine” he tries to assure her once more, his tone softening to calm his friend.

This does nothing though. It makes Ellie pinch the bridge of her nose in annoyance as she shakes her head. “Give me your keys” she demands with her palm out, pushed towards him.

Derek furrows his brows in confusion. “What? Are you seriously going to-“ he’s quickly cut off by Ellie, stopping him from finishing his question.

“Give me your fucking keys Derek. I’m not letting that asshole get it in with your sister” she finally admits, her words making your brothers eyes go wide with realization, finally seeing the situation for what it really was.

He inhales deeply before he reaches into his pocket and finally places his keys into his friends hand without another word, biting back the smirk that threatened to grace his lips.

He always thought Ellie’s animosity towards you was weird, but he never thought it would mean this all along.

She doesn’t even notice, the girl quickly taking the keys and mumbling a small ‘thanks’ as she jogs up the path to the parking lot to jump into your brothers car, and race home.

Meanwhile at your house, Abby was showing you quite the time.

It didn’t take long for you two to give into the tension that had settled the moment she picked you up from the dock. One moment you were toying with the little loose hairs falling from her braid and framing her face, and the next you were tugging her up to your bedroom and locking the door behind you.

Her hands were all over you, caressing your body as her knee began grinding into your core, her lips swallowing up your moans as you clung to her desperately, chasing your high as if your life depended on it.

The feeling of Abby against you cleared Ellie out of your head almost immediately. You weren’t worried about her or the mean things she’d said to you, or the nasty way she’d treated you after getting what she wanted from you. What once was a bed that you could barely sleep in without thinking of her was now filled with the feeling of Abby, and you couldn’t be more grateful.

Ellie realizes she’s too late when she pulls into your driveway to see Abby’s truck is still there, and she has to stop herself from ripping your brothers car door off when she gets out and slams it closed. There’s still something in her that hopes this is all innocent, that you didn’t really do the unthinkable and take Abby Anderson home to spite her. She hopes that the sweet side of you has taken the moral high ground, that you’ve gone to bed like the good girl she knows you are and Abby just happened to walk home and leave her car in your driveway.

So when she’s jogging on the stairs after frantically searching for you downstairs, hoping that she’ll find you sound asleep in your bed, her blood practically runs cold when her hand wraps around your doorknob…

And she can make out the familiar sounds of your moans through your door, paired with Abby’s words of encouragement to go with it.

[fict1onallyobsessed]

Just watched act 1 and I'm actually feral for Sevika. Like omg what?! How is she so hot?! Anyway I've had this idea of sharing a smoke with her. Specially shotgunning. Um. Yeah. Anyway maybe that would turn into something a bit more - NSFW should we say. Definitely biting. You know what I'm talking about lol anyway this isn't a lot to work with I know.. I just saw your post asking for Sevika requests so I figured I'd pop in

Sevika x F!Reader 18+

Her lungs burnt as she inhaled her cigar, watching you fix her arm for the hundredth time this week. Your eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, screwdriver carefully pulling out the broken metal parts in her arm, clinking in the silence.

She could feel your frustration before she even entered your little mechanic shop. People were being more demanding for fixes as Zaun practically relied on prosthetic limbs, and you were rated the best one for the job. Sometimes you felt like a pawn; people didn't even pay that well. You might have to think of increasing the prices...

"You think too much."

You sighed, looking up at your girlfriend who huffed out smoke through her nose. She knew you were busy, and a part of her felt bad last time you stayed late to fix her arm, so she tried really hard to keep it in a manageable state for longer than usual.

Heavy on tried.

"You should learn how to fight." You snapped back playfully, looking back down at the arm for the final few fixes. The arm hissed and popped once, finally being fully functional again. "Even Ran doesn't come in this often. Might have to start charging you."

Sevika scoffed as she watched you stand up to toss your tools onto your very littered desk, your hands coming up to wipe your tired face.

"You're processor is fried. I'll make you a new one soon, but this one should hold up if you can hold off fighting for a few days."

She was listening but all she could focus on is how exhausted your eyes looked. She asked if you were done for the day, if you wanted to go home but you were already backlogged for weeks with new projects and fixes. You politely declined, walking over to her again and taking the cigar from her lips only to put it in your own mouth.

Sevika didn't flinch. It was something you did often, especially on nights where you needed something to keep you awake for a little longer.

Sevika sat on the small couch, looking up at you as you inhaled, smoke escaping your nose before you even got to exhale. She thought for a moment, then grabbed the back on your thighs and pulled you to straddle her.

"'Vika, I need to get-"

"To work. I know." She casually said, taking the cigar from your hands and inhaling deeply herself. Her eyes remained on yours while her hand reached up to grip the back of your neck, pulling you up to her lips.

For a second you thought she was going to kiss you, like she did always in thanks when you fix her up. But instead, she stopped you right before her face, hand now moving to open your mouth with her thumb. Then she exhaled.

You felt dizzy. You had smoked plenty of times, and since meeting Sevika you smoked plenty more. But this was so intoxicating it felt better than any cigarette you've ever tried.

You relaxed on her lap, sinking onto her as you tried to breathe normally. Her mechanic hand held your waist, the other firmly on your jaw to keep it open against her mouth. Just as the smoke began to fade, she pulled you fully against her, lips clashing together in a kiss.

You pulled away only when you felt you couldn't breathe, both of your chests rising and falling as you stared down at Sevika, her pupils blown wide, devouring you.

Work could wait.

You grabbed the cigar back, inhaling so deeply you felt your throat close up momentarily. Still, you leaned down and grabbed her jaw while her hands fell to your hips, gripping tightly to pull you even closer.

You exhaled the smoke as slowly as you could, relishing in the moment for a while before the smoke faded again. You wasted no time in kissing her again, a slight moan escaping your lips and into her mouth. You could taste the smoke in her mouth but it only seemed to rile you up more.

Your hips bucked, unintentionally, and you felt Sevika smirk into the kiss.

"That's all it takes to get you going?" Sevika teased. You replied with a breathy and rushed 'shut up' before going back to her lips, rocking your hips more now she was aware of your intentions. Her grip on you tightened, moving you so that you were straddling one of her thighs.

You really tried to keep your groans in, but the way your clit was grinding against the inside of your jeans. Fuck.

"Fuck. Do it again." You lifted the cigar to her lips, making her inhale it and letting her grab your jaw once more, shot gunning the smoke right into your mouth. You tried to breathe steadily, but her hand made you grind on her thigh more.

"So fucking pretty. Barely touched you and you're gonna cum already?"

You were so fucking close, a whine leaving your lips as you hid your face in the crook of her neck. She could feel the small puffs of air you breathed, trying to maintain some kind of control. Your teeth nipped at her skin, her own composure slowly failing.

You huffed when she accidentally made a sound when you bit into her neck. Your hips stuttered and bucked uncontrollably as you came, lips remaining at her skin until you were stable enough to pull away.

"That's all it takes to get you going?" You teased, mocking her words as angry red marks appeared on her neck. She was flushed and panting, your hips still held by her hands. She smirked, kissing you again before standing up and making you stand on your wobbly legs.

"Home. Now."

[wonderjanga]

This is a Setup

Billy has a problem. Multiple heroes keep trying to set them up on dates with other people. The worst part is that none of them know he’s 12, and he doesn’t plan on really telling them anytime soon so he’s just forced to go on the dates. Don’t worry though. He has a plan. Or at least Mary has a plan. A plan that includes her and Freddy sabotaging his dates.

Marvel: *trying his best to converse with this lady normally*

Lady: *thinks the date is going well and puts her hand on his arm*

Marvel: *internally panics so hard*

The date was actually going pretty well. Like actually. Too bad Billy was not interested in dating anyone.

Mary: *dressed a super villain crashes through one of the windows* “Captain Marvel! I have come to enact vengeance upon you!”

Marvel: *so relieved and looks to the lady* “Miss? Please find somewhere safe.” *stands up from the table* “Stop right there, villain!”

Mary: “Never!” *flies away*

Marvel: *follows*

They pretended to fight, and Billy pretended to take her to the police but instead flew away so she could return as Mary Marvel.

Reporter: “Captain, what can you tell us about your latest villain?”

Mary: *grabs the mic* “She’s awesome!”

Marvel: *nods along* “That she is.”

Then there was the other time they did this but with Freddy. He also wasn’t cosplaying as a villain.

Marvel: *pretending he wants to be there*

Junior: “Dad!” *flies in from somewhere*

Marvel: “Yes?”

Junior: “There’s an emergency! Mom is hurt!”

Date: “Mom?!” *gasps* “Are you guys still together?”

Junior: “Yeah they are! He’s a cheating cheater!”

Date: *double gasps and is about to smack him before they realize they’d probably break their hand so they just throw their napkin in Billy’s face and leave*

Marvel and Junior: *watch them go*

Marvel: “Questionable means but it got the job done.” *gets up and gives him a thumbs up*

They did this schtick of sabotaging dates until the heroes trying to set him up with people gave up and gave Marvel some looks of pity.

Flash: “Maybe you’re just un-dateable?” *trying to make him feel better*

Marvel: *doesn’t need to be made to feel better cause he’s chilling* “Yeah, it’s probably that.”

Supes: “Oh, come on don’t say that about yourself—”

Marvel: “In fact, since I’m un-dateable, we should stop setting me up with people.”

That got him even more pity glances even though as soon as he left the room, he went to the kitchen, grabbed some ice cream sandwiches and ate them with Junior and Mary in a rec room with a smile on his face.

[heyftinally]

I specifically want to elaborate on this part:

Decontextualizing and rephrasing an interview: I am not going to pretend that I am an expert in academic best practices, but I do believe one thing, if a person is speaking on their own identity and lived experience, it is always much better to directly quote than it is to rephrase. As I read this source, I initially didn't know that it was AI, and I was already upset. An interview that is widely available on the internet with no pay wall, was poorly sourced and made more vague than it was in the initial text. By creating one degree of seperation between the original words of A WRITER (whose literal job was largely based in choosing the right words to describe experiences they had) harm is already done. It makes vague what was once clear, and removes Keri Hulme's voice from her own narrative.

As someone who has spent a LOT of time and effort on the nitty-gritty of quoting others in professional documents, I feel like I have a pretty good foundation on which to speak about this.

As a general rule, you want to directly quote the speaker as much as possible.

First and foremost, this is because you don't want to put words in their mouth or misrepresent what they said, as that's dishonest on your part as the interviewer/writer/etc, and harms your credibility. Remember the "Coolsville sucks" meme? Yeah, don't be that person. Quotes should be full and verbatim as much as possible, because anything else presents the possibility that you aren't accurately or fully representing what the speaker said.

The second reason is because when you re-word someone else's quote, you inherently inject your own biases into the new version you create. What that means is, consciously or unconsciously, you are influencing the way readers perceive what was said. This is bad because at best, you're speaking over the person who's quote you re-worded. At worst, you're manipulating your readers to think as you do, regardless of what the original quote said.

When presenting a quote from someone else, your job is to communicate as clearly as possible the speaker's original statement and intention. If giving the direct quote is not possible, careful paraphrasing is vital.

If I say "Sara James then went on to express her dissatisfaction with the pay she received", what would you assume the original quote is?

It could be "Yeah, I found out I was only getting paid ⅓ as much as my costar, even though I have 40% more screen time and I did almost all of my own stunts, so needless to say I'm not happy and I've been talking to my team."

But it could ALSO be "I was surprised when I found out what we were all getting paid. Not to sound like a total nepo baby or anything, but normally the projects I do pay more, y'know? But then I found out that the reason pay was lower for everyone - not just me - was because production was donating a whole bunch of money to the local children's hospital since we filmed in the lot next door. Which I thought was really cool of them! Like, obviously the hospital doesn't get much say in the filming, so I thought it was really cool of production to give back as, like, a thank you. Plus we got to go visit the kids, which was just amazing!"

TECHNICALLY in both of these, you could argue that displeasure about pay IS mentioned - but the specifics of the situation are entirely lost in the oversimplified paraphrasing, and THAT is why changing direct quotes can be dangerous.

So, yeah. I just wanted to elaborate on that particular point because it's one I covered *heavily* while in college. How you quote someone is important.

":')))))))) you realise that gen AI is available to everyone though right??? Queer creators can use it just as much as anyone else??? I just don't understand this post... It really feels like a cheap way to get on the 'AI Bad's bandwagon, and coming from such a thoughtful and insightful creator that's incredibly disappointing... It's okay to not comment on subjects you're not an expert in y'know...?"

Y'all know the drill, I am replying to this publicly but that is not an invitation to send any negative messages to the person I am replying to.

Anyways, let me start by saying that the original context of the post you're replying to is discussing an event where a queer org used generative AI to steal an interview with Keri Hulme. So let's start there. To be clear I don't even know if the original interviewer was queer so let's put the identities of stealer and stolen from to the side. I want to explain the harm done in this example specifically and I hope this is illustrative of what harm generative AI can (and does) do.

The original place I saw generative AI was a queer org that explicitly says they are using generative AI "for good", and as a way to bring more queer history to light. So let's take them at their word, and assume they are not out to cause harm. This is the best example of generative AI that I can imagine, so I hope that makes it clear that I am not coming at this issue from bad faith in any way.

Here is the harm they are causing:

Decontextualizing and rephrasing an interview: I am not going to pretend that I am an expert in academic best practices, but I do believe one thing, if a person is speaking on their own identity and lived experience, it is always much better to directly quote than it is to rephrase. As I read this source, I initially didn't know that it was AI, and I was already upset. An interview that is widely available on the internet with no pay wall, was poorly sourced and made more vague than it was in the initial text. By creating one degree of seperation between the original words of A WRITER (whose literal job was largely based in choosing the right words to describe experiences they had) harm is already done. It makes vague what was once clear, and removes Keri Hulme's voice from her own narrative.

The original interviewer is not paid, or given proper recognition: I get it, sometimes just copy pasting an interview doesn't feel transformative enough, but something that one would learn if they worked in the queer history field and weren't a literal robot rehashing what has already been said, is that not everything needs to be transformed. In those cases, we give credit to the person who said the original words (in this case Keri Hulme), and the interviewer who facillitated the conversation (in this case Shelley Bridgeman). This case (again a best case scenario), takes the attention and byline away from the original interviewer and gives it to an AI.

The original publisher of this story is deinsentivised from paying interviewers in the future: The original publisher of this interview has ads on their website. As a person who also has ads on their website, taking an article like this and rephrasing it for no good reason (the orginal word count was not prohibitive and the rephrasing did not make it more readable), takes money from the publisher. It's pennies, but it's also removing numbers could have been used to justify further interviews with asexual people and archiving of asexual stories. The org that stole from this publication does not interview people themselves so the money and numbers that could have gone to continue to preserve asexual stories goes to stealing them instead.

These are just the active harms that I saw in this specific case. As you said, I am not an expert in generative AI, and will not be speaking as if I am. But I will say that asking me not to speak out on active harm that is being caused in queer history spaces, is disrespectful to my many years in this field.

To illustrate this even clearer: if you were a patron, you would know I recently took down an old article. I have been rereading and editing our backlist of articles, and I found one that no longer fit my standards of sourcing. My standards had recently raised due to a video made by HBomberguy about someone in the queer history space who was stealing from other creators. I watched this video not as a work project, but because I watch most of HBomberguys videos, and this one made me think more critically about sourcing. An AI can't do that. All an AI has is what has been inputted, and it is right now impossible to input every available peice of information about ethics into an AI and get a coherent ethical basis on which it will function.

It is a distinctly human trait to absorb information and change in that way. AI can rephrase information that already exists, steal it, recontextualize it even, but it cannot create something altogether new.

Do I believe that there one day might be an ethical use for Generative AI? Maybe. Do I believe that coming into a queer history space, stealing the words of a Maori asexual author, rephrasing them, and giving the original interviewer and publication no form of compensation for their work, is accomplishing that? No.

On a more personal note: I am coming at this issue with a bias. As a queer history creator, I do not want AI in my space, because it is literally damaging to my financial prospects. It has been like pulling teeth to try and get patrons in the current state of the global economy. I don't blame anyone from that, but I feel very disrespected that I am being asked to compete with a machine now. Not only that, but I am being asked to shut up and be fine with it? No, absolutely not. I cannot and will not stay quiet as space that I have fought tooth and nail to create in mainstream discussions is taken and given to AI.

AI was not supporting me when I was sent gore to try and scare me off of discussing queer history. A person did that. AI was not there to tell me I had written too many sad stories, and I needed some happy endings to remind myself of the good in the world. A person did that. AI was not there when I was being harrassed for supporting and including asexual stories on my website. A person did that.

And after all that, I am being asked to lie down and take it when my ability to pay the people who supported me in those ways, is being threatened. Nope. Not going to happen.

An AI doesn't have to make rent. An AI doesn't understand what it feels like to have to stop holding their wife's hand in public. An AI didn't get calls from people needing comfort in reaction to the election. Pay me for my work, and get this AI nonsense out of my face.

[hahaifolded]

141 x POC!GN Intelligence Operative - Reply All Author's Notes: After what feels like forever, the long awaited Gaz v Horangi chapter. Very different from the other ones, but trust I am finally cooking (maybe) Warnings: MDNI, Angst

A late night email from Laswell can never be good. And after reading one at 1am, Kyle can confirm it’s still not good. 

From: Laswell, Kate To: Price, John; Garrick, Kyle; etc… + more Cc: Keegan D. Russ; etc… + more Subject: Intelligence Officer in the Field

Intelligence officer in the field. You in the field. You in danger. 

Over Kyle’s dead body. If these weeks had shown Gaz anything, it’s that him and the boys don’t know how to protect you. Maybe once you’re officially on the team but now it’s better if you stay away from any risks. 

Therefore with a heavy heart, Kyle replies to Laswell’s email. He knows how much you wanted to go out in the field, prove your worth, but now is not the time. Now Kyle had to protect you. And to protect you meant making hard decisions. 

After sending a quick email to Laswell, expressing his weariness of bringing along a novice like yourself in the field, Kyle goes to sleep. It doesn’t come easy as the actions from the past few months come to haunt him but it eventually does. 

But unfortunately for him, his guilt still haunts him as he wakes up. His chest rests heavy, mind still tired from the shit sleep he had last night. Worst part is that he couldn’t even have a peaceful morning as his phone loses its mind. 

With the brightness way to high, Gaz starts to reads the multitude of messages polluting his phone. He doesn’t go far as one completely runs his blood cold. 

❤️❤️ - 6:34am Fuck you Kyle Garrick.

That wakes Gaz up. He keeps scrolling, looking for answers. 

MacTavish - 6:23am Jesus. and I thought lt was the heartless one Lieutenant 👻 - 6:05qm Garrick do you need an email tutorial or something?  John P - 1:56am Thanks for that. Just a question, did you have to send that email to everyone? 

Email… what the fuck are they on— no, no, NO. 

Kyle rushes to his emails and sees two, one from Sergeant Kim and the other from Laswell herself. He starts with Horangi’s email which was sent first before Laswell’s. 

From: Kim, Hong-jin  To: Laswell, Kate CC: Price, John; Russ, Keegan D.;… + more  Subject: RE: Intelligence Officer in the Field Laswell, I completely disagree with Garrick. I don’t know what unpreparedness he may be alluding to, but I have nothing but respect and confidence in the intelligence officer and their ability in the field.  I have only worked with them for a few weeks but those few weeks have shown me that they are nothing but exceptional in their work. I have no doubt that their presence in the field would not be a hinderance but only elevate our performance. If Garrick and anyone in the 141 is worried about their own ability in watching out for one of their own, I, Russ, or Nikto would be more than happy to keep an eye on them. We are more than capable of doing both our job and the 141’s.  - Sergeant Kim Hong-jin

And looking at the time stamp, Horangi sent that minutes after Gaz sent his what he thought private email. He quickly scrolls up to see Kate’s response. 

His throat tightens as his eyes scan Kate’s short but brutal email. 

From: Laswell, Kate To: All Subject: RE: Intelligence Officer in the Field All, Thank you for the input Sergeant Kim but I trust Sergeant Garrick’s judgement on this.  Maybe another time. Sincerely, Kate

Fuck.

Word Count: 586

More Thoughts - Next Thought

[lowkeyerror]

Just Hold Me

Rio Vidal x Reader

Word Count: 1k

Notes: Fluff x 100, comfort x 1 million, very soft

Summary: You had a rough day and Rio wants to comfort you, but she wonders if she's doing enough.

An: The yearly fluff I post after Christmas. Soft as a bunny's tail.

Masterlist

Love was such a strange thing. Tangled up in emotions like hurt, betrayal, and longing, but also bathed in happiness, care, and optimism. It was complex enough with normal people, but you had fallen for Death itself.

Loving Rio was like loving a hurricane. It was wild and even if some things were predictable, you couldn’t always prepare for what was to come. Having a trail of destruction behind her was a part of her job.

It was something she only found shame in when she was with you. She didn’t want you to think that of her. The truth being, that you never could. It was what had drawn you to her in the first place. Death didn’t scare you, not at all. Falling into her embrace felt like destiny. You’d tell her, but Rio was never one for fate, she said if anything it was an omen.

She was so scared of the consequences when it came to being with you. She tried to go against her urges, but you were patient. In her mind you’d forget her and move on with someone more suitable, but you never did. You knew what you wanted and it was her.

There would never be anyone to come close.

Rio was a good girlfriend. She was affectionate, and as attentive as she could be. There were still some things that she was uncertain about when it came to her emotions. After all she had only learned them from her limited experience in other relationships and observing others. She had seen a lot, but that didn’t mean she understood it all.

So when she appeared in your home to find your curled up on the couch, hidden by a blanket, she simply tilted her head to the side before approaching you.

“Love?”

You heard her voice, but felt like you couldn’t move or speak. Instead you let out a soft hum in response. It caught Rio off guard, she was still assessing the situation, but it wasn’t looking good.

She stepped into your point of view, crouching so that she could meet your eyes. She was taken aback by the sadness in them. The bags under your eyes were dark and heavy. Rio pouted seeing the red hues scattered in them.

She reaches out cautiously to hold your face in her hands. Her touch was warm, it made you briefly close your eyes.

“What happened?” Rio’s voice was soft, as if she was scared of pushing.

However you weren’t like the lovers of her past. You wouldn’t push her away, so you took a deep breath trying to muster up your voice.

“Hold me,” you managed to murmur.

Rio was quick to shed her work clothes and create more comfortable attire for the sake of both of you. You briefly sat up on the couch, only enough for the Green Witch to slip behind you. Once she was behind you, you tugged her arm over your body. You held it in place keeping her hold on you tight.

Rio places a delicate kiss on the back of your neck, “I'm not going anywhere."

For a while you stay in that position silently. Neither of you break through the quiet. Rio thinks she’s eventually going to hear your breathing level but it doesn’t.

“Long day,” you mumble against her hand.

“I think I know something about those,” Rio threaded her fingers through yours.

You let out a small laugh, “I bet you do.”

You feel the time shift again. You turn to face Rio who scans over your features again.

“Is there something I can do?”

You see the worry in her eyes and it makes your heart swell. The smallest furrow in her brow, the usual mischief in her eyes is gone, her tone is missing the teasing edge.

“Just this,” you bury your head in the crease of her neck.

You inhale deeply, her scent always grounds you. That specific scent of earth freshly hit with rain. You could get lost in her aroma, it almost makes you feel like you’re outside. You can feel her skin cooling, which only submerges you deeper into the fantasy.

Now both of her hands hold you. She kisses the top of your head. Rio is still uncertain about it she should be doing more for you. This didn't feel like enough. She wanted to destroy whatever it was that made your day so hard. Seeing you in this state was tugging at her heart strings.

She began to trace patterns into your back. You didn't mind, you like having her hands on you, being this close together. It helped you feel safe.

“Are you sure it’s enough,” Rio whispers, insecurities gnawing at her.

You pull back just enough to look at her, “Rio Vidal you’ll always be enough for me.”

Your words knocked the wind right out of her, she felt her face getting warm under your gaze, but she wasn’t trying to hide it from you.

“I’d do anything for you, you know that? Legal or illegal. If I need to go fuck up your boss I will. If I need to pop your annoying coworkers tire, I will. If you needed me to hunt down a Karen I-"

“I know,” you cut her off.

“All of the above?” Rio wriggles her eyebrows playfully.

You move to sit up and she sits beside you.

You rub a hand over your face, “Work was fine, I guess. A few difficult customers, but nothing out of the ordinary. I don’t really know why, but today just felt harder to get through than other days. Nothings wrong, I just feel a little… down.”

Rio listen intently as you speak. When you finish she nods slowly, “I think I know what you need.”

“You do?”

Rio nods with a little more certainty, “Let me cook for us. We’ll order some snacks and pop in a movie. We can keep cuddling too. And tomorrow, I think you should call out. We’ll spend the whole day together, I know all the best parks for walks. How does that sound?”

You let out a sigh of relief, “That sounds perfect. I love you.”

Rio places a gentle kiss on your lips, “I love you too.”

Rio reluctantly begins to stand, but you pull her back down, “Just hold me a bit longer?”

She lays her back flat on the couch and pulls you on top of her, stealing another peck.

“Always.”

[frannyzooey]

You, and this fic, own me.

This chapter had so much to give!!! I thought it was going to be pure filth and then you hit me with that ending, and I am fucking yearning for these two so goddamn bad (while also being so out of my mind aroused --)

There were so, so many good parts in this one, like the way my mouth fucking dropped open at this:

“Just another reason that maybe you should be inside that church, rather than suckin’ dick in its parking lot."

and THIS:

And so help you god, he’s wearing his tool belt. 

But THIS -- this took the fuckin' cake:

“Then play ‘house’ with me,” you purr, dragging your fingers through his hair. “You can be daddy,” you stroke down his cheek, over his lips, “I can be mommy. And you can try and put a baby in me.”

I was literally levitating at this line. ROCKETING TOWARDS THE MOON!! I was also so in love with how light and free and fun their fucking and teasing was -- the way they just slide into role play like it's no goddamn thing had me grinning ear to ear

Annnnnnnnnd then you hit me with the emotions:

The discordance stirs in your stomach. Right now, you’re actually witnessing the loving-husband-turned-infidel façade weave its way through his marriage. He’s asking her to leave…for you. To free up time to be with you. Under the guise of caring for her. 

You wish it made you feel worse. It just feels…uncomfortable to actually view firsthand.

I literally cannot even imagine what it would feel like to witness the deception happening first hand, and it's something that a lot of cheating fics don't explore? (and I should know 😌)...the way you treated this scene was literal perfection because you brought so much nuance to his emotions. He's being deceptive, but not a manipulative gross creep like this situation is often portrayed. He genuinely hurts....yet does it anyway. I'm obsessed with this scene because you're doing such a good job extending Joel, as a man, the same grace that people often give to the reader in these types of stories. They empathize with the reader feeling bad but doing it anyway, but they often villainize the man, or assume he doesn't feel as bad, ya know? Anyway, just me waxing on about your beautiful brain ❤️

I had all these amazing thoughts about your writing skills....and then they all leaked from my brain when I read this:

You: Yours is the only mouth I want sucking on these titties right now, daddy 👅

You fix your sweater and peer back through your peephole, just to see his face collapse in arousal, grinding the heel of his palm over the crotch of his jeans.

I know the desk fucking scene was so taboo and so filthy, but I felt so, so fucking soft when he said this:

setting the frame down in front of you before yanking your hair at the root and slamming his hand down next to the photo. “You stare at that girl while daddy’s tearin’ apart your slutty little asshole. Remind her that she deserves better than that piece a’shit.”

I live for this line 😭😭

And then this -- this -- was perfection:

“Baby,” he takes your face in his hands again, his expression edging on broken. On your behalf. “What has this fuckin’ monster done to you? My girl from the bar, she knew what she was fuckin’ worth. And she’d let you know it. She came first, and she didn’t apologize for it or accept anything less. What did he do to that fuckin’ girl?”

“Maybe it wasn’t all him."

I could literally envision the look on his face when she said that. What a fucking LINE, Katy and then to have it followed with her speech about how Jack isn't a monster, he's just a man??

The way you are out here giving the depth to this trope that it needs has me SAT and quite frankly, green with envy

This chapter was so fucking good 💀💀💀 ily ❤️

Good Neighbors | (joel miller x f!reader) (18+)

Part Three of Four

✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧A fic inspired by Fortnight by Taylor Swift✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧

Part One | Part Two

summary: your affair with joel heats up with a week of uninterrupted bliss. warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DNI] no outbreak!au, age gap (joel is 48, reader is 32), joel x ofc (no sexual content), reader x omc (pitiful sexual content), infidelity, daddy!kink, fingering, unprotected PIV, unprotected anal, oral (m! and f!receiving), degradation!kink, praise!kink, brief roleplaying, unashamed sexualization of the term "kiddo", discussions of SA and domestic abuse, marital discussions regarding mismatched desires on having children, reader struggles with body image as a result of her abusive husband, unhealthy/toxic age gap marriage. this chapter is a much needed break from Jack. immersion notes: reader has hair, wears dresses/makeup, and is considered a "trophy wife" type. additionally, reader is specifically implied to be conventionally thin. apologies to anyone for whom this kills immersion for, but it felt very necessary in the context of the story. word count: ~11.6k a/n: wanted to give the lovebirds a little part that's primarily fun times before shit hits the fan <3 So there will be one more chapter!

Available Only to Registered Users on AO3

[seeingivy]

I think the ttpd requests thing is so cute I love that album!!! could I request i can fix him x toji fushiguro or i loved you the way that you were x satoru gojo (THE ANGST)? ilysm

i loved you the way that you were x satoru gojo

**part of my tortured poets concert event

--

“what did he do today?” 

at the sound of megumi’s voice, coupled with his footsteps getting menacingly louder as he tracks down the hall, you immediately slam the tattered cardboard box shut, haphazardly leaning over it in some misguided attempt to prevent him from seeing the insides. 

it partially does the job. true to your attempt, you covering the box with the weight of your body prevents him from seeing the contents. but the sight of you leaning over the counter, hands outstretched in a position so unnatural, doesn’t do the job of preventing him from asking again. or even raising the question as to why you were being so secretive in the first place. 

“what’s in the box?” megumi asks. 

“your birthday present.” you state. 

megumi narrows his eyes at you. 

“my birthday isn’t for another two months.” 

“never hurts to start getting gifts early! especially since december can be busy with the holidays and all.” you murmur. 

megumi narrows his eyes at you, his signal to you that he won’t necessarily drop his question, that instead he’ll be more adamant on the fact that he deserves the answer, as you retreat your hold on the box. 

“did you want to eat breakfast?” you ask. 

“sure. then, we can talk about what’s in there. and whatever tantrum gojo sensei threw this morning.” 

you glare at him. 

“it’s not a tantrum. he’s just…having a difficult time adjusting. it’s hard.” you insist. 

megumi rolls his eyes. 

“well, we’ve all had a difficult time. it’s not just him.” he mutters, the tone in his voice searingly angry. 

there’s natural symptoms that you can expect from the ordeal – of satoru being put back together, inches from death, of megumi having his body used as a puppet – that you anticipate. the ones that you can expect are easy to handle, because you know what they are. could anticipate before hand what they would be.

shock.

numbness. 

a loss of regular life. 

megumi doesn’t say anything for two weeks. sometimes it takes a good effort to get satoru to shower. the two of them are no longer particularly fond of eating. 

what you don’t expect is the disability. because in the aftermath of the loss, shoko can only put so much of satoru back together. and while mostly everything is intact – his limbs, his legs, his heart – the six eyes and the limitless technique don’t return. and in ways you can’t understand, it takes too harsh of a toll. 

he can barely walk straight, slamming into doors or hitting the side edge of the coffee table because he insists he couldn’t sense it spatially, whatever that meant. the loss of limitless means that most of the times, standing still feels like he’s drowning, not being able to manipulate the space around him leaves him debilitated to the point where you sometimes find him cowering in a corner.

rambling over and over again about how he’s unprotected, far too exposed out in the open. 

shoko can’t fix the six eyes or the limitless. and as long as you’re all concerned, they won’t ever return. 

and neither will the satoru gojo that you knew and loved.

his frustrations drive him to be angry, withdrawn, and closed off every time you see him. unable to even ask for help.

and the byproduct of it all is just as shocking. because satoru gojo’s newfound flagrance for life is something that drives megumi fushiguro insane. 

“satoru threw away his entire sunglasses collection this morning.” you state. 

megumi frowns. 

“isn’t it worth like…thousands of dollars?” he asks. 

you shrug. 

“he’s just insisting that he has no need for them anymore, so what’s the point of keeping them around where they’re just taking up space?” 

megumi sucks in his teeth. 

“i see. so why’d you go dig them out of the trash? you should have saved yourself the trouble than typing to help him when he’s intent on…on acting so pathetic.” he asks. 

“i didn’t dig them out of the trash.” you retort. 

megumi narrows his eyes at you. 

“the box smells. you kind of do too. and i could hear you from my window this morning rustling with the bins, it woke me up.” he states. 

you frown, before opening up the box, and reaching in for the set of sunglasses right at the top. they’re simple frames, silver on the sides, dark black shades, but now there’s a deep crack in the lens on the right. you’re afraid if you push it too hard, it’ll shatter into tiny pieces. but you throw away the thought, extending them out to megumi.

“do you remember these?” you ask. 

megumi takes the frames, holding them up to the light, as he inspects them. he gives you a halfhearted shake. 

“satoru wore these at our wedding. and every anniversary after, he’s…worn them to the dinner that we have together. makes some dumb joke about how he’s seeing me for the first time all over again.” 

megumi gives a nod, before gently placing the frames back in the palm of your hand. he lets his hand linger in yours for a little too long, something that you’ve come to understand is his way of comforting you in the aftermath, as you give him a nod in response. 

“he’ll be mad if you keep them. might even yell at you.” he murmurs. 

“well, i’ll cross that bridge when i get there.” 

--

you cross that bridge four days later. there’s only so many places to hide things in the apartment. your original thought – that hiding them in the kitchen because satoru can’t cook – doesn’t fare well when he decides to come poking for scissors. 

“y/n.” 

“hm?” 

satoru’s suddenly materialized at your side, enough for you to abandon the pie crust you’re failing to mold, with his eyes narrowed at you. 

“what are these?” he asks. 

he holds up the sunglasses in the space between the two of you as you feel the embarrassed warmth run to your cheeks, and slightly take a step back. 

“your sunglasses.” you murmur. 

“i can see that. my question is what are they still doing here?” he seethes. 

you shrug. 

“i just thought you might want to keep them. i was holding on to them for you.” 

satoru glares at you. 

“you know, when i make the effort of walking all the way out to throw something in the dumpster, i’m fairly certain i don’t want them anymore. they were where they belonged.” 

“i know, i know, i just thought…” 

satoru heaves an exasperated sigh. 

“thought what? that i’d need to use them again? i won’t fucking need to, because i can see just fine without them.” 

you bite down on your lip. and he makes no signs of relenting. 

“okay, but..” 

“what part of this is so hard for you to understand? i don’t need your fucking help or for you to hold on to shit for me because you think i’ll regret it later. i won’t. i’m just fine without you trying to walk around, waiting hand and foot on me, because you think i’m defective.” 

you frown, reaching forward to cup the side of his face. the mere gesture makes him flinch, enough for him to put distance between the two of you this time, and it makes your heart sink immeasurably. 

“i don’t think you’re defective. you’re still the same and i…i’m just trying to be there for you in whatever way i can.” 

“then why do you look at me like that?” he whispers. 

“like what?” 

“everytime, i walk into a wall by accident or brush against the table, you wince. you wince because i can’t find my fucking bearings with every stupid thing you’ve put in this apartment, and it drives me fucking insane because i don’t even want to look at you anymore. i understand it’s difficult, that you loved me the way that i was, but i’m just not the fucking same and i can’t do anything about it. you don’t have to make me these dumbass pies or cakes or whatever the fuck you’re trying to do everyday to celebrate my progress or whatever. i don’t care for any of it, so just give it a rest.” 

you frown, dropping your hands to your side, as you dust away the last of the spare flour that’s melded into your hands. you can tell that he’s watching you, maybe a little too keenly, as you untie the apron around your neck and set it on the counter. 

“you’re right, you know.” you mumble. 

“what?” 

“i loved you the way that you were.” 

satoru frowns. 

“the person i loved never raised his voice at me like that.” you whisper. 

you reach forward, for the sunglasses discarded on the counter, and look down at the crack. it’s gotten noticeably bigger, probably from how satoru was shaking it around in the air a few seconds prior, before you look back up at him. 

“the person i loved dragged these sunglasses out of his collection because they’re the exact ones he was wearing when i married him. he’d put them on and tell me that he was seeing me again for the first time, even though that wasn’t really true. and deep down, he probably knew that i thought it was a little cheesy, stupid even, but did it anyway because it made me laugh.” 

you shake your head. 

“he’d never throw these away. i’m sorry that i’m not…not as broken up that you’ve lost your six eyes or your limitless and i don’t know how to help you. i’m sorry i want to bake things and celebrate or whatever…but i almost lost you. i watched shoko sew you back together for hours, sat there for days when you didn’t wake up, and i was…just thankful that i got to see you again. in whatever state that you were. i’m sorry that it’s something that i thought warranted celebration, that the mere fact that you have the opportunity to struggle instead of be…be six feet under the ground…is something that i delight in.” 

you sigh, before setting them back down on the counter, the warm tears bubbling in your eyes. 

“but, please. by all means, throw them away. suppose they mean nothing to you when they’re not attached to the six eyes, anyways.” 

and on that note, you turn on your heel and leave. 

--

when you return home after three hours, there’s an almost pungent smell in the kitchen, so strong that it makes your nose water. you’re almost positive that in your absence the two of them made some horrible attempt at fixing themselves food, and you make a mental note to rectify their mess later. 

you make your way over to the balcony doors to clear the air, except for the fact that the sliding door is already open, that satoru’s sitting criss crossed on the floor with megumi at his side, looking at the view of the city below. 

you lightly wrap your knuckles against the door, the two of them turning their heads ever so slightly, as you lightly step out into the cold air. you crouch down, placing a hand on megumi’s shoulder and squeezing hard. 

“mind if i talk to gojo alone?” you ask. 

he gives you a polite smile, returning your gesture by placing his hand on your shoulder, and giving you a nod. the two of you switch spots, as you criss cross into the warmth megumi’s left behind, and hike your legs to your chest. 

“so, i just wanted to say that…” you start. 

satoru wordlessly slides two boxes in front of you. they’re dark black, a sparkling silver logo embossed into the material, tied together with a white ribbon. you shoot him a glare, before picking up the first box.

it makes you nervous, testing the waters with a joke when they were so tense when you left, but you do it anyways. 

“are you trying to bribe me, satoru gojo?” you ask. 

satoru gives you a smile. you note that it’s been extremely long since you’ve seen one. 

“would that work, princess?” 

“well, i didn’t marry you for your looks, pumpkin.” you joke, reaching forward to pinch his cheeks. 

satoru fakes hurt, dramatically pressing his hand to his chest, as you pull the ribbon off the box. the sunglasses, glistening in perfect shape and sans cracks, are sitting in the box. 

“oh, satoru. you didn’t have to…” 

“yes, i did. they’re my wife glasses.” 

you smile, reaching into the box and pulling the glasses out, and lightly pulling them around satoru’s ears. satoru shakes your hands off, only because you’ve horribly aimed for his ears, and readjusts them before leaning closer. 

“oh my goodness.” he murmurs. 

“what?” you whisper. 

satoru lifts his hands and places them on your cheeks, the touch warm, as he rubs circles into your cheeks. 

“my wife is so pretty.” 

you can’t help but grin, the warmth rushing to your cheeks. 

“is that right?” 

“so so pretty. and kind, and patient, and too good for me to begin with.” he responds. 

you shake your head. 

“not true. you…” 

“very true.” he insists. 

satoru drops his hands, fingers fast as he sets the sunglasses back in the open box, before interlocking his fingers in with yours. he’s looking down at your skin, tracing the callouses left behind on your palms. 

“you know the worst part of losing the six eyes?” he whispers. 

you shake your head. 

“i could feel your cursed energy all the time. and now i can’t.” 

he’s never told you that before. 

“really? was my cursed energy hot?” 

satoru rolls his eyes at you, an unmistakable smile on his face.

“unbelievable.” 

he’s quiet again, fingers outlining one of the red gashes leftover from months prior in your skin. 

“it was comforting. knowing you were around, all the time. that you were moving from the kitchen, or coming up the stairs, or…or sleeping. i’d reach for it sometimes, straining to feel it when you were far away in another classroom or something, whenever someone pissed me off. something to just calm me down.”  

you smile. 

“i’m still around. you might not be able to feel me…that way…but i’m still right here. all the time.” 

satoru winces. 

“kind of embarrassing, isn’t it?” he murmurs. 

“what?” 

“i’m sitting over here, reeling in the fact that i’ve lost…lost what you feel like to me, when you’re the one who actually had to live that.” he whispers. 

you flip his hand over in yours, mimicking his motions by tracing circles into his hand instead. 

“it was no big deal.” you joke. 

satoru narrows his eyes at you. 

“you thought i was dead, didn’t you?” he asks. 

you nod. 

“i didn’t just think it, satoru. you were dead. for a whole three hours, you were…no heartbeat. skin cold. the whole ten miles of…of dead people. i was sitting there thinking about how i was twenty-five years old and already a widow.” you respond. 

satoru sighs. 

“i’m still around too. and…still me in the ways that matter to you. you don’t need to follow me around like you’re worried i’m going to break. hell, i’m surely not as strong as i was before, but i’ve…i will put in efforts to safeguard myself so you won’t have to…cut your losses again.” 

you smile. 

“that would be appreciated, you know that?” 

satoru gives you a wink, before lifting your fingers to press a kiss against your knuckles. 

“it’s a deal, princess.” 

“also…i hope you know i regretted what i said earlier. right after i said it. i’d love you in any iteration. two eyes, six eyes, eleven.” 

satoru smiles, before closing the distance to press three featherlike kisses to your cheek. he retreats to slide the second box over to you, the one you left unopened, and places it in the palm of your hands. you slide the ribbon off just the same, pulling off the lid, to find what might possibly be the most unflattering glasses you’ve ever seen. 

bright green, hexagon shaped, and comically small. 

“well, that’s a choice.” you mumble. 

“if your memory’s failing you, these are the sunglasses you picked out for me on our third or fourth date. pretty sure you were half joking, but…but it felt right to buy them now. rebuild my collection.” 

“how much were they?” 

satoru pinches his lips together in a line. 

“well, i’d prefer to save myself from another lecture today, if that’s okay with you. ask me again tomorrow, princess.”

--

taglist: @7haze

[devildomwriter]

Jolly Old St Nick | Solomon x Reader

1.2K Word Count | GN! Reader | Fluff, Humor | CW: none? Magic shenanigans

You’d never been so relaxed while in such a crowded place. You held Solomon’s hand tightly as he slowly walked from booth to booth at the Christmas market.

When Solomon called you away on business, he’d done so specifically to stop the brothers from following you on what was actually a surprise date.

You like Solomon so you didn’t mind the surprise date but you were shocked at how good of a job he’d done choosing locations.

A world-famous Christmas market hadn’t been your first idea for a holiday-timed date but he was fully prepared to buy you anything that caught your attention so you weren’t complaining about the crowds.

“Look, ___, they’re making candy canes,” he pointed out the booth next to you and you stood on your tip-toes to sneak a look as the sugar was poured into the molds.

“Are they all made like that?” You asked aloud and he proceeded to give you a more in-depth explanation than you were expecting. Even the booth owner looked shocked by his expertise and appeared to quickly be taking notes on his phone.

You pulled Solomon away from the candy canes after he bought a few to a booth with glass blowers who were making custom Christmas ornaments.

“Blowing glass art, it’s been such a long time since I’ve seen anyone do it. It’s still as incredible as it was thousands of years ago,” he sighed nostalgically and got a few curious looks.

You gave him a cautious look and he laughed and patted your back. “Ah, there’s no need to worry now. No one would believe me anyway.” He made a valid point so you decided to have fun with it instead.

“Did you ever meet Saint Nick?” You asked him as you clutched the paper bag with your glass ornaments.

Solomon laughed and stopped walking, “would you believe me if I told you I am him.”

You ran into somebody in Sienese and dropped your delicate bag. “Oh!”

Solomon quickly caught it before it hit the icy stone path. You breathed a sigh of relief and he chose to hold onto it instead. A wise decision from the wise king himself.

“There’s no way. You just snuck into people’s houses and gave them stuff?”

“Well, sort of. I’m certainly not the only one who did something like that but when I came into my power more I experimented with it a little and tried teleporting small things. Every so often if I overheard a family wasn’t doing well, their child especially, I’d place something small and fun in their drying clothes.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “So…you’re a king of ancient times, a sorcerer, and Santa Clause? All in one, huh?”

Solomon laughed it off and shrugged. “I wouldn’t say ancient…”

“That’s the part you disagree with?”

You laughed at Solomon and you both continued through the Christmas market. You found a few cute items for everyone. A hand-stitched angel ornament that reminded you of Luke, a hand-carved wooden cow from a nativity scene (Belphegor didn’t need to know that part), an antique metallic Christmas tree from a fad decades past, and a fancy leather belt you thought would be perfect for Thirteen.

Solomon found a booth with kettle corn and immediately purchased some while you found a free bench. As soon as you sat down a distraught woman sat next to you on the phone while the kid held onto her leg looking like they’d cried for a long time.

You knew it wasn’t your business but as soon as she hung up the phone you had to pry. Just to see if you could help them.

“I’m sorry for intruding but…is something wrong?” You asked.

The mom looked slightly annoyed to be asked as she’d been through enough but the child quickly fessed up. “My doggy,” he trembled and his mother quickly picked him up and sat him in her lap to coddle him.

“Did your doggy go missing?” You asked as Solomon approached you from behind.

“Oh dear, did he?” Solomon asked with a frown.

The mother shook her head. “It’s his stuffed animal. I told him not to bring it,” she began but the indication it was his fault brought a wave of tears from the young child so she stopped herself.

You thought about it for a moment and looked at Solomon who nodded with a similar idea. “Do you have a picture?”

The mother shook her head, “It’s okay. Really,” she dismissed but you shook your head.

“I happen to be a private investigator, mam. I’m pretty good at finding things. If you hand a picture, I promise you’ll have that dog back in the hour.”

She looked horrified you’d made such a promise with her son in earshot but Solomon nodded confirming the same thing.

Reluctantly she took out her phone and found a picture. The dog appeared to be handmade and well-loved.

You nodded and took off into the crowd with Solomon to keep an eye on the woman.

After searching for a while using a tracking spell you had no luck so you texted Solomon for help. He sent you a laughing emoji which frustrated you and then sent you a spell you hadn’t tried before and asked you to recite it out of sight.

You slipped away into a dark alley behind some booths and recited the spell with the stuffed animal in mind and it materialized in front of you. You gasped and caught it before it hit the ground.

It was identical to the photo. You weren’t sure if you summoned it or made it but either way, you knew a little boy was about to be very happy.

You quickly rushed back to the bench and the mother’s eyes widened when she saw you.

The little boy sprang free from her arms and ran to you to quickly hug his beloved stuffed dog.

“You actually found it!” The mother gasped and looked teary-eyed. “I can’t thank you enough. What do I owe you?”

You shook your head, “I’m Santa’s helper, Mam, I find kids their toys for free, it’s part of my job.”

Suddenly you heard a laugh from Solomon and gave him a puzzled look.

“Time to go,” he said quickly and you walked his way as a man called out to the mother and son.

“Honey I found the dog, it was by the vending machine still—huh?”

The family looked at the dog in the dad’s hands to the one in the boys and to you and Solomon smiling like nothing weird just happened.

“How did you…this dog was hand-made by my mother…she died last year…” The woman was too shocked to say more and her husband stood there silently bewildered.

“Umm…merry Christmas from Saint Nick!” you said and grabbed Solomon’s hand running away as quickly as you could as he laughed loudly.

“Shut up Solomon! Didn’t that break some kind of rule!?” You exclaimed and he shook his head.

“Who cares? You magically created the exact toy a child wanted. I think that makes you a st nick just like me,” he chucked and you rolled your eyes.

“Give me the scarf. I want to look around more but now I need to hide my face.”

Solomon continued to laugh at you the rest of your date at the Christmas market.

Sure enough, the story of the two stuffed dogs made it to the local news as a Christmas miracle from one of Santa’s mysterious helpers.

[enbyfvcker]

"Come back home."

𝙒𝙖𝙙𝙚 𝙒𝙞𝙡𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙭 𝙇𝙤𝙜𝙖𝙣 (𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙨𝙩!𝙬𝙤𝙡𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙚)

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 2k

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮/𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙩: a part two continuation from this from @psychohoneywhiskey because it rented a whole fucking condo in my head.

𝙏𝙖𝙜𝙨: Hurt/comfort, angst, fighting, fluff, kissing, happy ending, Wade needs a hug, Logan needs a hug.

Wade only got home when the sun was already rising. His suit was all torn up, and some wounds still healed from the fight he just had with some stubborn criminals.

He expected to see Logan sleeping on the couch, but he didn't.

Well, maybe he decided to sleep in his bed?

He walks to his bedroom with expectation but also finds it empty.

Actually, not entirely empty.

In his bed layed all the clothes Wade bought Logan folded. All the little thoughtful gifts he gave him. Everything that Wade got him to say through actions that he's wanted.

Looks like the message didn't land.

His heart tightens, tears welling in his eyes as he realizes that Logan left him.

Left after being willing to sacrifice himself for Wade. Left after making this crack house he lived in into a home. Left after letting Wade convince him to stay sober after decades. Left after stealing his way into Wade's heart, his life, his family.

And just like that, 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴. Without nothing with him but his suit.

Honestly, Wade doesn't think he should be surprised for this. He knew it was going to happen. He knew Logan was just waiting for an opportunity to get rid of him. Who would ever put up with him? God, if he could escape from himself sometimes, he would. He tried many times, too.

So could he even blame him, really?

In that moment, all the words Logan spat at him in that Honda Odyssey at the middle of a god forsaken void came back into his mind. They have been constantly in the past weeks.

He did feel like a ridiculous sad joke. He wanted nothing more than to be able to die alone because at least it meant he would just 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘪𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺. That his attempts wouldn't just be self-harm anymore and that when he tried blowing himself up, he wouldn't just regenerate back.

He couldn't keep his job. Couldn't keep Vanessa. Couldn't keep Logan. If it weren't for Logan, he wouldn't be able to keep his fucking universe.

He'd never be an anchor being. He'd never make a difference or matter, so why would anyone stay?

He sobbed as he held one of Logan's shirts, burying his face into it and desperately trying to smell any remaining scent of him.

Mary Puppins walks in, her tongue out as she turns her head to the side, looking up at Wade with sad eyes.

"What's all that damn noise? Did you stub your toe again?" Al walks in wearing a sleeping robe and her sunglasses, apparently having awakened from Wade's ugly crying.

"Hey, Al..." Wade just sniffles, his voice broken as he just chooses to ignore her question.

"What happened?"

"Logan left..."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Guess I'm that insufferable that he couldn't stand spending another minute with me."

"He spent whole months with you, Wade."

"Sure, but did he even have a choice? I basically kidnapped him and threw him in a fucking new universe. I'm like an old creepy guy in a van. He was just waiting for a chance to run off. And he did."

"Come here, let's get you some tea." Al gestures for Wade to follow her to the kitchen, and he does, taking the shirt in his hands with him.

"Actually, I could use some cocaine right now. And you could use the cure for blindness to see how heartbroken I am for tea." He remarks, following behind her, dogpool following Wade. "Try not to break any cups this time."

Al puts sets a kettle in the stove and turns it on as Wade sits on a chair, all droopy and his eyes red.

"Did he take anything with him? Any money? Clothes? How do you know he won't just come back?"

"No, nothing. He must be wandering the streets like a lost puppy right now. And I just know."

"I think you boys are just too stupid to communicate properly. If you talked about this shit-"

"Oh, he talked plenty, believe me. He ran his mouth about how much of a joke I am."

"Oh, cut the self-loathing crap. That was before then. You two have been acting like an old married gay couple for the last months, don't give me that. You don't see the way he looks at you."

"Oh, and you do?!"

"I don't have to see it to know that guy would throw himself in the fire for you. If he ran off, then it's probably because the idiot read your sad little kitten act like a sign he's not welcomed."

"What-"

"Shut up. Now, if you don't grow a pair of balls for once and try to find him, I sweat to god-"

"I wouldn't even know where to look. And I doubt it he'd even want me to."

"So you better start right away. Go."

"What about my tea-"

"Go."

...

The last few days were rough. And that's saying something, considering all Logan went through in his universe.

He didn't have a place to stay anymore, so he just wandered around and got from bar to bar. He didn't have any cash on him, so he would flash his claws out to the barman as a threat when he was asked about his bill.

He felt like a goddamn monster, so why not act like it. He's not proud of it, but it's been months he didn't have a drink, and all he wanted was to drown the overwhelming feelings eating at him.

He got banned from multiple bars, always hopping to the next one. Getting drunk, getting in some fights, wandering around...

He felt like he was back in his universe. He felt so fucking stupid to think maybe he could change. That maybe here he could turn the page, start a new life with Wade.

Turns out the place it's not the problem, he's the fucking problem. He's a disease that destroys everything he touches, and he should know better than to try and have any connection with anyone.

He failed everyone. He failed the X-men by not being there. He failed Charles by going into a murderous spree. He failed Laura by not being the right guy. He failed Wade by being the complete jerk he is.

He wasn't sure how many days it had been since he left. He's smelling bad, and his hair is mess, but all he cares right now is finishing one more bottle. Then, one more, and one more, and...

He feels something - someone - poking him. Logan thinks it may be the barman or the manager, so he pulls his claws out. "Look, bub, I-"

"Heya, Peanut. Gosh, I'm getting deja-vu. Ain't ya?" Logan's eyes focus to see Wade standing next to him wearing his suit and mask, and his heart races quickly. "You're a hard one to find, honey badger. And I'm a mercenary, so-"

"The fuck are you doing here?"

"You know the answer to that."

"Save it, bub. I gave you an easy way out. You should have taken it."

"Come on, let's just talk-"

"Not in the fucking mood." Logan grumbles, suddenly feeling his chest too tight and like the walls were closing on him. He stumbles while getting off the chair and heading outside with heavy steps, hearing an angry voice behind the counter as he leaves without paying.

He walks out of the bar, rushing somewhere through the empty street, nightly darkness everywhere. Where? Where the fuck was he rushing to?

He hears a bell noise and other footsteps behind him.

"Fine! I get it, alright?! I'm the worst damn piece of crap that you could possibly be stuck with! You were right, ok? I'm everything you said I am. I'd run off, too." Wade shouts, his broken voice making Logan halt in his steps. "But at least let me return the favor of you saving my universe. Let me try and find you somewhere where you don't have to deal with me-"

"It was never about that." Logan grunts, his heart aching like it was about to break.

How could Wade possibly think it was about that?

"What?"

"I'm poison, bub." Logan sighs, finally turning around. "I destroy everything I touch. I hurt everyone around me, I hurt you. I don't deserve you taking me in. I don't deserve your affection or your family. I shouldn't have thought that there was more to my life than being the miserable monster I am and living with the consequences of my own actions. You got the worst you could possibly have, Wade. I'm just doing you the favor of retracting myself before I fuck everything up beyonde repair." Logan could feel his throat tight like a knot as he fought back stubborn tears.

Wade was stunned, silent for a few seconds before he took off his mask and gave Logan the most puppy dog eyes he ever saw, his eyes glossy with tears matching his own.

"You're an fucking idiot." Wade simply stated, a sad smile in his lips. "You're not a monster. And you're far from the worst I could have. I owe my whole world to you. I know you think I'm a joke, but I couldn't ask for a better-"

"I don't think you're a joke." He interrupted.

"But... in the Honda Odyssey, back at the void..." Wade replies, hearing a chuckle that held nothing but sadness.

Fuck. It never came to Logan's mind that what he said that day actually stuck to Wade. He is an idiot. Those words felt so distant, so different from what he felt now for the merc. After all those months they lived together, getting all domestic and shit. Wade crawled into his heart that had felt dead for years and got a space there.

"That was before, bub. I didn't even really know you, of course now I don't think that shit I said."

"But you did... Back then." Wade looks down, his voice low.

"I'm sorry..." Logan says, the words feeling foreign on his tongue. "You didn't deserve that. I was a jerk. I still am, but... You make me want to be better, bub. It's stupid, but... You kidnapping me was probably the best thing that ever happened to me in years, and I was just... so scared I fucked it up too, like everything else."

Wade chuckles, and his eyes brighten as he looks at Logan, his heart feels lighter at hearing those words.

"You didn't." Wade gets closer, his hand resting at Logan's shoulder. "You're wanted. Loved."

The care and gentleness in Wade's touch melts Logan, he leans closer too.

"Come back home."

Those words alone broke him.

For so long, he didn't have a home. How could he have ever taken this one for granted?

"Alright, bub."

It was like clockwork when their lips met in a soft, gentle kiss, them holding each other closely as if they both feared the other would disappear into thin air any second. It felt so natural. Their hearts were calm and frantic at the same time.

Suddenly, there were fireworks sounds and colorful lights surrounding them, and they could hear people chanting happily in the background.

𝘖𝘩.

So it was New Year's already.

They kept their lips together for a few seconds as fireworks popped and formed colorful patterns in the sky. When they pulled away, their eyes were filled with longing and pure affection.

"You're stinky." Wade comments with a smile even though he keeps Logan close. Logan chuckles.

"Yeah, sorry."

"Come on. Let's get you home and make you a nice warm bath, peanut. Blind Al and Mary Puppins are missing you." Wade says while putting his arms around Logan's waist as he guides him their way home.

"Just them?"

"No." Wade replies. "Not just them."

[cheshireliam]

"Wrapped in Wicked Romance" Story Event: Chapter 2

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Read this before interacting

(Now… I wonder what I should talk to Ring about.)

(... Huh?) 

While I was trying to think of a conversation starter, I realised that Ring was already way ahead of me. 

Kate: Ring! Wait up! 

Ring: !? Why are you so far behind…? 

I hurriedly chased after him and he rushed back toward me.

We met halfway and started walking side by side again.

Kate: Perhaps my strides aren’t as long as yours. I’ll try to keep up. 

Ring: No, I should’ve slowed down to match your pace. … My bad. 

Ring: A-anyway, you can hold onto my arm.

Kate: Thank you. 

Ring: Actually… I wanted to have you hold my arm back at the meeting point. 

Kate: Was that during your sudden warm-up session just now?

Ring: Yeah. … I should've let you hold my arm earlier if I knew you were going to be left behind.

Ring: I’m not good at acting like a lover at all. Even if it's Dari’s orders…

Kate: Neither of us are acting the part right now, so don’t let it bother you. 

Kate: Is there anything else you wanted to say but couldn't?

Ring: There is. It’s about… your outfit. 

Ring: “I love your outfit today. It suits the little robin very well”.

Ring: “Where did you get that bracelet? I want to get a matching one”. 

Kate: Huh…? 

Ring: “The design around the collar is fun. It really looks like your kind of thing. Also—”... 

Kate: Um… are those your own words? 

I couldn't help but interrupt when Ring, who had been acting awkward the whole time, suddenly started complimenting me so smoothly that it felt unnatural.

Ring: … Y-you’re sharp. As expected from a member of Crown… you’re dangerous. 

(It’s not that I’m sharp, it’s that Ring’s behaviour is so obviously unnatural…)

Ring: Actually… I had Nica teach me some words to compliment you, so that I can do a better job at pretending to be your lover.

Kate: So that’s what happened…! I’m happy you prepared yourself in advance, but…

Ring: “But”? 

Kate: I’d much rather hear you use your own words, Ring.

Kate: Do you usually compliment your lover using words someone else said?

Ring: N-no, I don't… I-I think. 

Ring: A-anyway, give me a moment while I think of the words to compliment you. 

Kate: … You don't have to force yourself to compliment me if nothing comes to mine, okay?

Ring: No, I really do think your outfit looks nice, it's just… umm… 

He took my comment about wanting to hear him use his own words seriously and struggled to respond. 

I couldn't help but find it endearing that he was trying so hard…

(You can do it…!) 

I silently cheered him on in my heart.

Ring: Your outfit today looks… frilly and soft… I-I think it’s c-cute.

Ring: It reminds me of a purple Hardenbergia flower… the subdued color is comforting to look at. 

The words he finally managed to string together sounded hesitant and awkward, but they struck me deeper than any borrowed praises could ever.

Kate: I never would've thought of comparing the colour of my clothes to Hardenbergia flowers! It makes me so happy to hear that.

Ring: …! I-I see… that's good to know.

Kate: You must know a lot about flowers, don’t you?

Ring: Y-yeah… I probably know more about flowers than most other things. 

Kate: There are some flower beds on the way to The Scala.

Kate: If you don't mind, could you tell me what flowers they are?

Ring: … If I can identify them. 

…

And so, on our way to The Scala, Ring taught me about the flowers blooming along the road… 

Thanks to that, his nervousness seemed to have eased significantly by the time we reached Piccadilly. 

Ring: … It’s about time for the play to start. We made it just in time.

Kate: You’re right! The Scala is right up ahead. Let’s go. 

(... He’s still a little awkward, but I feel that he’s conversing more naturally now as compared to this morning.)

Even Ring was wary of me and said some disturbing things earlier on… 

He was an honest, upright person who was willing to listen to what I had to say. 

That honestly was likely the reason why I could freely interact with him without feeling on edge myself. 

(I’m looking forward to watching the play. I wonder what kind of reactions Ring will have.)

(... Huh?)

Ring: … Why did you suddenly stop? Is something wrong?

Kate: P-pardon me. There’s something I want to verify… you come too, Ring! 

I grabbed Ring’s arm and led him toward an alley in the opposite direction of The Scala. 

…

Ring: … What business do you have in an alley like this?

Kate: There’s been a rise in child abduction cases in the area lately, and I thought I saw someone resembling the suspect on the run… 

Kate: Ah… it’s him! 

I lowered my voice and pointed at a man lurking in the shadows of the alley. 

Kate: There’s a chance I got the wrong person, so I’m going to act casual and try to get information out of him— 

While I was explaining the situation to Ring, a young girl wandered into the alley, perhaps by accident.

At that moment, the man made a move. 

(Ah…!) 

He crept up behind the girl and covered her mouth with a piece of cloth he had in his hand. It seemed to have been laced with some sort of drug. 

The girl fell unconscious, and the man skillfully stuffed her into a bag before attempting to flee the scene.

Kate: Ring, let’s go after him! 

Ring: … No, we need to report this to Dari and have him make a decision first. 

Kate: What…? B-but there's a kidnapping happening right in front of our faces! We must act now! 

Ring: I was ordered to only ensure you return to the castle safely today. Any actions taken beyond that are prohibited.

Ring: Getting involved in strange situations would be going against Dari’s orders.

Ring: I understand that you want to help, but we should only act after reporting to Dari. 

(How can he say such things when a serious crime is being committed right under our noses…?)

Just a couple of minutes ago, I concluded that Ring was an honest and upright person that would never tell a lie.

But it was precisely because of that, I instantly knew that his words right now weren’t lies. 

In other words… Ring had no intention of stopping the crime from happening at all. 

Ring Schwartz, the person I thought I was starting to understand, became a complete stranger to me once more.

Kate: … F-fine. Then I’ll go after that criminal MYSELF!

Ring: H-hey…! 

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request Yuji, Megumi and Inumaki with a reader who is a former delinquent?

“Is it weird being back at your old school?”

“I guess,” [Y/N] agreed. “A lot has changed since I was last here.”

“Oh hells no!!”

“Or…maybe not….”

Yuji & [Y/N] turned around to see an older faculty member marching over to them. A vein nearly popping out of his balding head. “You aren’t allowed on the properly anymore, you hooligan!”

“Hooligan?” Yuji repeated.

“Wishful thinking, Baka-sensei.” The man growled. “I was never ‘banned’ just asked to not return the next semester.”

“Next semester?”

“Which implies you aren’t supposed to be here! I’ll talk to the principal and have you removed by the police!” The teacher threatened.

“Go ahead. He called us.” [Y/N] jeered at him. “Look, if you want me gone, talking is just prolonging our stay. Let us do our jobs and we’ll be out of your hair. What’s left of it.”

The man seemed fit to burst. Rather than argue, however, he just marched back off angrily. Arguing with himself in a mutter as he left. “Who was that guy?”

“An old teacher of mine.”

“What was he going on about? [Y/N]-chan…were you a bad student when you were here?”

[Y/N] chuckled. “I was, perhaps, a bit more spirited than most. I didn’t commit murder or anything.” Yuji was concerned that that was the part the listed as concern. “Come on, let’s find this curse and get out of here.”

“You think you know a person….”

It wasn’t often that they got time off to hang out around the city. In fact, they weren’t supposed to have time off now. But since the mission had ended early [Y/N] insisted on stopping at a local fast-food place to get milkshakes. As a reward.

“Oh man, I missed these. Did you used to get these when you went to school around here Megumi?”

“No.” He told them as he sipped his vanilla shake. “I can’t say that I have.”

Besides money being tight when he was a kid, this area was run by another school’s gang at the time. Though Megumi wasn’t officially in a gang, just a lone wolf taking his anger out on everyone, he still knew better than to come on this side of town.

“Well, you were missing out.”

“Oy! Sea urchin head!” Megumi turned around to take note of the shouting. Realizing very quickly that a teen from a small group was pointing & talking to him. He didn’t know whether he should be confused or just offended. “What are you doing on our side of town?! I know you went to Saitama East, and you have no business being here!”

“I don’t go there anymore.” Megumi told the other teen calmly. “And, I’m just here with a friend.”

“A friend hn?” They repeat with a spit. “Well, that friend isn’t welcome here either. You gotta lot of nerve stepping your crew on our turf! So why don’t you….” The young man’s bravado died down quickly, and Megumi realized he wasn’t looking at him anymore, but past him. “[Y-Y-Y/N]-sama!”

“Yes,” they chirped as they came out from behind Megumi’s frame. “Do I know you?”

“N-N-No! I was a year behind you in middle school!” The teen began to recall the terrifying tale of [Y/N] the Slayer. How they defeated every foe that challenged them. How they single handedly brought all the other clubs and gangs at their school to heel. How they even drew the lines in the city between Saitama East and their school. “Your legend still lives on [Y/N]-sama! We still follow your creed!”

“Creed?” [Y/N] replied in confusion. “Oh…that. I didn't really mean it. I mean, it’s good to have rules. That no honor among thieves crap is for short timers. Hopefully you boys learned a thing or too. Like apologizing when you’re wrong?”

“We’re sorry!” The group unanimously shouted at Megumi. Startling him a little. “We didn’t know that you were with [Y/N]-sama. Please forgive us!”

“Uh…it’s ok…”

“Please let us buy you a new milkshake for the trouble!”

“Thanks…I already got one though. You can…go though.”

“Thank you sir!”

The group then ran off with their tails between their legs faster than his Divine Dogs, and Megumi turned to [Y/N]. “I seem to make an impact on people.”

“I guess.” Megumi agreed, as they left before more adulators showed up. “I didn’t know that we were both so much trouble in middle school.”

“Aww…I think it’s cute.” [Y/N] cooed as they linked their hands. “Like a modern-day Romeo & Juliet. Only with middle schoolers. And no suicide.”

“Who’s the Juliet in this story?” He asked, and [Y/N] laughed at his joke.

“Uni, uni.”

[Y/N] turned to Toge when they heard his voice and saw him pointing to a wall with a bunch of graffiti on it. “Oh, yeah. They don’t really clean this place up that much. This stuff has been here for years.”

“Bento?” He asked. Meaning ‘who did it?’.

“It was a lot of students when I was here. Some just wanted to tag to be rebels. Others, I guess, just wanted to be remembered somehow.”

“Bento?” He asked again. Only this time meaning ‘who did this one?’.

[Y/N] smiled. “I did.” Toge seemed surprised and they put their finger to their lips. “It was a long time ago. Don’t tell anyone.”

“Bento?” ‘why did you do it though?’.

“I don’t know. I guess I was bored. Or…maybe I wanted to be remembered. Before I came to Tokyo High, I still always somehow knew my life would be short. I suppose I wanted a piece of me in the word.”

Toge could understand that. Their lives were usually short. Only the strong, or the clever, or just the downright lucky made it to old age. Who would remember the youngsters when they were gone?

Toge then fished around in his pocket and pulled out a marker. He then walked over to the wall and scribbled a little figure next to [Y/N]’s tag. A small little salmon nigiri with a ghost beside it. “Salmon.”

[Y/N] smiled at him. “I guess we’ll both be remembered then.” They then walked off. Their art and their memory resting into the stone. Maybe one day they would be able to come back and see it. Maybe not. But, it would always be there.

[gainercontent]

Room to Grow Part 1: Bad Influences

Elliot had always been the skinny guy. At 23, he was tall and lean, with a metabolism that seemed to burn through food like it was nothing. He didn’t work out obsessively or follow any strict diet. It was just the way he was. His friends liked to joke that he could eat an entire pizza and still fit into his skinny jeans the next day, and for the most part, it was true. He liked being that way—easy, effortless, and always confident in his own skin.

When Elliot moved to the city for a new job, he quickly realized that finding an apartment he could afford on his own was next to impossible. After a couple of weeks, he found a shared apartment close to work and agreed to room with two guys, both of whom were a bit older than him. The rent was cheaper, and it seemed like a good deal.

The first time he met his new roommates, he was a little surprised. They were both big guys, especially compared to him. There was Ryan, with his thick arms and broad chest, wearing a band t-shirt and cargo shorts, and then there was Mark, who was tall but with a soft roundness to him that suggested he enjoyed a few too many late-night snacks. They both had warm, easy-going personalities that immediately put Elliot at ease. 

“Hey man, welcome!” Ryan said with a smile, slapping him on the back as they shook hands. 

Mark, with a lazy grin, handed him a plate of brownies. “We’ve got more where that came from,” he joked, “but don't feel obligated to eat them... unless you're hungry.”

Elliot laughed awkwardly, not sure what to say. He accepted a brownie and followed them inside. The apartment was cozy, decorated with posters of classic rock bands and sports teams. It was clear they had lived there for a while, and it felt like their space. Elliot tried not to think too hard about the size of the couch or the wide kitchen table that always seemed to be piled high with food containers.

Over the next few days, he got into a routine. He worked long hours and spent most evenings in his room, catching up on emails or watching shows online. He didn’t have a lot of time to get to know Ryan and Mark, but he did notice how much they loved to cook and eat together. It was always pizza night, or they’d whip up something hearty in the kitchen, from massive pots of spaghetti to giant meatloaves. 

Elliot, by contrast, usually grabbed something light—a salad or a protein bar—when he wasn’t too busy. He didn’t want to make a big deal of it. He’d politely decline when they offered him a plate of whatever they were eating, not wanting to come off as rude or judgmental. 

One night, after Ryan made his signature homemade lasagna, he turned to Elliot. “Hey, man, you’re gonna eat with us, right?”

Elliot froze. He had been about to grab a salad, but he didn’t want to seem like he was avoiding them. “Uh, I’m good. Thanks, though. I just ate earlier.”

Mark, who was lounging on the couch, raised an eyebrow. “You sure? This is *the* lasagna, Elliot. Don’t want you to miss out on it.”

Elliot smiled awkwardly. “I appreciate it, really. I just don’t eat as much as you guys, I guess.”

Ryan set down his fork and looked at him, his expression thoughtful. “Hey, I get it. But honestly, we’re not here to make you feel weird about it. We just like eating together, that’s all. You don’t have to stick to your salad thing just because of us. We’re not judging.”

Mark chimed in from the couch, “Yeah, man, we’ve got no problem with what you eat, but if you’re ever hungry, just join us. No pressure.”

Elliot felt a weird lump in his throat. He’d always been the guy who prided himself on being the one who didn’t care what anyone else thought. But in this moment, he realized he had been putting up walls—around his food choices, his routine, and even his relationships. He wasn’t just trying to avoid calories; he was isolating himself from them, from them as people.

The next weekend, Ryan and Mark invited him to join them for a “healthy cooking day.” Elliot was hesitant at first, unsure of what that meant in their world, but he agreed. They spent the afternoon trying new recipes—grilled chicken, roasted vegetables, and a huge smoothie bar. For once, Elliot wasn’t the only one watching his food intake. He felt like he wasn’t *on display* for his choices anymore. He was just another guy, chopping vegetables, chatting about movies, and trying to make something together.

As the evening came around, they all sat down with bowls of their homemade stir-fry, laughing about silly things from work and sharing stories about past roommates and cooking disasters.

“That was a lot better than I thought it’d be,” Elliot admitted, pushing his empty bowl aside. “I think I’ve just been so stuck in my own head, you know? About food, about what I *should* eat, what I *shouldn’t* eat.”

Ryan leaned back in his chair, nodding. “Yeah, man, I totally get it. It’s all about balance, right? We’ve both been there—stuck in cycles of eating out or trying to cut out everything. It’s about enjoying food and not obsessing over it.”

Mark added, “Exactly. And hey, if you want to keep things healthy, we’re all for it. We’re just trying to make it a little easier for everyone, right?”

Elliot smiled, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. They weren’t just his roommates. They were his friends. They didn’t care about how he looked or what he ate. They just wanted to hang out and share good food, good company, and good times.

Over time, Elliot found that living with Ryan and Mark didn’t just teach him how to enjoy meals more freely, but also how to be more open. Their easy-going attitude about food, body image, and life in general started to rub off on him. He didn’t feel the need to be the skinny guy who had it all figured out. He could be himself—and sometimes, that meant indulging in a big meal, enjoying pizza without guilt, or laughing at a late-night snack with his roommates. 

They all grew in their own ways, together. And Elliot realized that, more than anything, this shared apartment was a space where they could be who they were, without judgment. It was a place to grow—not just in size, but in friendship.

At first, it was a struggle. Elliot had never really thought about how much he could eat. He had always maintained his slender frame with little effort, casually filling up on salads, protein shakes, and the occasional light meal. But living with Ryan and Mark was a different world. Their love for food wasn’t just about eating—it was about *enjoying* eating. And they had no problem eating a lot.

In the beginning, Elliot felt self-conscious when they invited him to join their meals. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the food—they made fantastic meals, hearty and flavorful—but his body had been trained to eat only a small amount at a time. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten a full plate of something. Most evenings, after just a few bites of lasagna or grilled chicken, he felt uncomfortably full and wanted to stop. But Ryan and Mark always finished their plates, sometimes going back for seconds, and then settling in for snacks, chips, or bowls of ice cream.

“Come on, man,” Ryan would say, giving him a playful nudge. “You gotta try this. Just one more bite. Don’t let it go to waste.”

Mark would chuckle, adding, “You’re not gonna be hungry later. Might as well eat now while it’s here.”

The first few weeks were an odd dance for Elliot. He’d eat slowly, trying to keep up with them, feeling the discomfort of fullness hit earlier than usual. At first, he tried to maintain his usual restraint, convinced that he *had* to stop before he felt bloated. But Ryan and Mark, with their carefree attitudes, kept encouraging him to eat more, and each time, Elliot found himself taking just one more bite—then another, and another.

After a while, it became a pattern. There was always more food than anyone could eat in one sitting, so they’d end up watching TV with pizza boxes open on the coffee table, snacking mindlessly. Elliot’s stomach would be stretched to its limits, a dull ache growing in the pit of his stomach, but he found it hard to stop. It wasn’t just about the food anymore. It was the camaraderie, the way they bonded over meals, shared jokes, and never made him feel weird for not being able to keep up at first. 

At first, Elliot hated that feeling—being too full, sluggish, uncomfortable. He’d retire to his room, feeling like he was walking a fine line between fitting in and betraying his own body. But slowly, imperceptibly, something began to shift. His stomach seemed to adapt, expanding in small increments, slowly able to handle more. The next time they had pizza, he found himself reaching for a second slice without the usual hesitation. Then, on a random Tuesday night, he finished a whole plate of spaghetti—and didn’t feel as stuffed as he had before.

He noticed it during the weekends, when they would make their Sunday feast. Mark would fill the air fryer with fried foods, and Ryan would make pizza and a dessert. They’d eat together for hours, chatting, laughing, and passing around dishes, always encouraging each other to take more. It was normal for Mark to have three servings and Ryan to finish off the last of the food.

“You don’t have to keep up with us,” Ryan would say after seeing Elliot hesitate at the table. “But trust me, there’s no shame in enjoying a good meal.”

Elliot had been reluctant at first, but now he was starting to *enjoy* it, too. As much as he tried to fight it, his body began to crave the comfort of those big meals, the indulgent late-night snacks, and the feeling of sitting around with his roommates, chatting over bowls of chili or homemade pizza. He found himself going back for seconds more often. A third helping wasn’t out of the question anymore, and he no longer felt the need to rush to his room afterward to avoid being seen as weak for not finishing everything on his plate.

He also started noticing something he hadn’t expected: his body was changing. At first, it was subtle—an inch added to his waistline, his jeans feeling a bit tighter after a few weeks. But as the months went by, it became more apparent. His arms felt fuller, his stomach rounder, and he even noticed his face becoming a little softer. He wasn’t sure how it had happened, but the extra food—and the ease with which he now consumed it—had started to reflect in his body.

It wasn’t just the weight that was changing. His attitude toward food was shifting, too. Whereas he used to feel guilty for indulging, now he felt more comfortable with the idea of eating for pleasure. His conversations with Ryan and Mark had slowly shifted from just joking about food to serious discussions about eating for both enjoyment and balance. Mark would often tell him, “Don’t think of it as overeating. Think of it as living.”

One afternoon, after they’d spent hours preparing a massive barbecue spread, Elliot was leaning back in his chair, feeling pleasantly full for the first time in weeks. Ryan, who was lounging across from him, caught his eye and gave him a thumbs-up.

“Look at you, man,” Ryan said with a grin. “You’re finally eating like a normal person. Not bad.”

Elliot chuckled, rubbing his stomach. “Yeah, I guess I’ve gotten used to it. Still a bit of a stretch, but... not terrible.”

Mark, who was halfway through a third helping of ribs, laughed and wiped his mouth. “We told you. The more you eat, the more room you’ve got.”

It wasn’t just a physical change. Elliot began to feel more connected to Ryan and Mark. Food had become a bridge, a shared experience that didn’t have to be about calories or body image. It was about friendship, about enjoying the simple pleasure of a meal together and letting go of any anxiety about what or how much he ate. There were days when they all sat at the kitchen table long after dinner, talking and laughing until the food was gone, and he realized he was no longer counting the bites or trying to stop himself from eating too much.

One evening, as they were cleaning up after a particularly indulgent dinner of burgers and fries, Elliot noticed something that made him smile. For the first time, he wasn’t thinking about how full he felt or whether he should have stopped earlier. He was just enjoying the moment, grateful for the friends he had made and the space they’d created where he didn’t have to worry about measuring himself—or his food.

"You're gonna regret this tomorrow," Ryan teased, as Elliot helped clear the table.

Elliot smiled and shrugged. "Nah. I think I’m starting to get the hang of it."

And for the first time, he wasn’t just talking about eating. He was talking about life—letting go, being present, and allowing himself to be a part of something bigger than his own self-consciousness.

Over time, the changes to his body became more pronounced, but Elliot didn’t mind. The tightness around his stomach was no longer uncomfortable. It felt natural, like something that had just happened over time. And maybe it wasn’t about his physical transformation as much as it was about his acceptance of himself and his life with Ryan and Mark. It had always been about more than just food. It was about sharing, growing, and finding comfort in something simple but meaningful.

**New Chapter will be posted each Thursday** 

[curseofhecate]

MERRY CHRISTMAS, I MISS YOU | LN4

an: This is based on Merry Christmas, I miss you by Alex Crichton. It can be read as part to to merry christmas, please don't call. Again, depressing but I can't help it. This is Lando's point of view.

w.c.: 1.3k

December 25th, Christmas.

The view from the cabin was captivating. Especially now that the sun had gone down and it was snowing again. Everything outside seemed so calm and peaceful, the complete opposite of the war that was currently going on in Lando’s mind. 

His plan hadn’t been to spend Christmas in a cabin somewhere in the french alps. It had actually been Max's idea, to make their annual ski trip overlap with Christmas this year. He knew his friend very well to know that if Lando was left alone this year on Christmas day he would have ended up wallowing in his sadness. 

The whole day had passed by in a blur. Presents, skiing, food, jokes, card games, it had all been a well revised plan to keep him distracted. And it had worked. Up until now.

It was late in the evening and everyone was off doing their own thing. Lando was sitting on a couch, half watching the snow fall outside through the floor to ceiling window and half watching the movie Pietra and Max, who were cuddling on the other couch. 

Love Actually. He remembered when his girlfriend had forced him to watch it with her around this time last year and how he had complained it was a dumb movie without actually having seen it. Well, ex girlfriend, because he had ruined that.

He hadn’t really meant to. It was something he either did subconsciously or it was out of his control. Usually, he likes to blame their falling out on the distance, on his job, on his career. And while all of those things had played their role in how things progressed between them, what had really destroyed what they had was their communication. Or better said, their lack of. And it killed Lando to admit that his inability to let someone see him for what he really is, had ruined the best thing he had ever gotten hold of.

It is weird how quickly things change.

Exactly a year ago, he could have sworn they’d be infinite. It was the day he had taken her to meet his parents. She was nervous and he had spent the whole car ride down to Bristol reassuring her that his family would love her. What she didn’t know was that they already did. Lando hadn’t stopped talking about her since the day they'd met. 

He had convinced her it wasn’t that big of a thing. Which was a lie because Lando never introduced his girlfriends to his parents. Mainly because most of them couldn’t even be considered girlfriends and fit more into the ‘casual hook ups’ or ‘friends with benefits’ categories.  

He remembered how he had spent most of his time watching her interact with his family and feeling proud about how well she fit in with them. That was the moment that solidified for Lando the feelings he had for her. And as he sat there and watched her interact with his niece we thought about how Christmas would be ten years from now, when they’d be married and have a family of their own. 

It was the moment that made it clear to Lando that this was the girl he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. The girl he was going to marry.

If he were honest, he always knew. From the moment he first saw her, at the back of that party on Christmas day two years ago with a drink in her hand and looking awkward, he knew that something was different about her. 

When he first walked up to her, Lando was nervous. Which was the most unlike Lando thing ever. Normally he was really open and comfortable around people, the definition of an extrovert. But for some reason this was different.

The first thing he told her was some lame joke about both of them being out of place since they knew no one and their friends ditched them, He didn’t get much of a response, except for a forced smile, and for a bit lando felt as if he was having a one sided conversation. But the longer he kept talking the more at ease she started to feel around him. 

The walls didn’t really come down until Lando made another joke about something stupid, what he couldn’t remember. What he remembered though was the way she had thrown her head back laughing. And from that moment, he was a goner. 

It was crazy to think how two years ago they didn’t even know each other and last year at this time she was curled up against him, head on his chest with his arms wrapped around her and watching cheesy Christmas movies. And now she is gone. He had lost her. 

Sometimes he wondered what he could have done differently. He knew it wasn’t entirely his fault and some things were out of their control but he couldn’t help but want to go back and change everything. 

What he had felt for her, he hadn’t felt for anyone else before, and he was convinced he wouldn’t feel for anyone else in the future. 

Usually he tried not to think about that. During the season it was easy. He was preoccupied with races and the possibility of winning the drivers championship. Being a formula 1 driver didn’t allow him much time to wallow in his self pity. 

But now, it is really difficult. Especially considering how he kept thinking about the Christmas they’d spent together last year. The look on her face when he’d told her it was too early to blast Christmas songs on November 1st, the domestic feeling it brought him decorating his London apartment together, the way she’d force him to do silly childish activities, like baking cookies and decorating gingerbread houses and how he’d complain even though he always ended up loving it.

Waking up with her in his arms on Christmas morning and pretending to be asleep as soon as she started stirring, just to make the moment last longer, knowing well that she wouldn’t have the heart to wake him up. It all haunted him.

But most of all, it was the what ifs that tormented him.What if she has moved on? What if she’s with someone new? What if he’s nothing but a ghost that lingers in her life?

But then what if she was lonely? What if she missed him as much as he missed her? What if she had realised how big of a mistake this had been? What if she wants to reach out but is afraid to? What if the reason she didn’t is because she thinks he has moved on. 

Lando thought about this far more often that he would like to admit. All he could think about lately was her. And even though he appreciated how his friends tried to distract him he couldn’t help but feel suffocated. 

He missed her. He missed her a lot. How could he not? He was in love with her, he still is. And so he can’t help but wonder whether she would answer if he called. 

He hoped she would. 

Sighing, he picked up his phone and tapped on her contact. He typed out a paragraph, explaining how much he missed her and how he wished he could have her back. His finger hovered over the send button but he hesitated and erased the message, turning off his phone frustrated.

He couldn’t go on like this. 

If she didn’t want to talk then she wouldn’t reply. But if still cared then maybe she would. And for once in his life Lando Norris had nothing to lose. 

He turned on his phone again and typed out another message, hitting the text button and turning off his phone before he could overthink it.

[beforetimes]

have to preface this by saying i don't really care about jayvik and i probably won't be posting about them after this but i DO subscribe to the meljayvik agenda. but only in the context of a very specific dynamic i've invented for them in my head that i can not explain without giving an example, which is what i've come to lay out today.

let me set the scene: pre-act two, mel and viktor become. acquianted. mostly through ""closet-detours"" during very long and boring parties mostly about acquiring funding for their projects when hex-tech is still being built up. viktor is not totally sold on anyone on the council and mel doesn't really care to know viktor as a person but there is a serendipitous moment where mel looks at viktor and is like 'i can tell you don't want to be here' and viktor looks at mel and is like 'you are doing a great job of sounding as if you like these people but i can tell that you definitely don't want to be here right now.'

anyway, this is how they first get acquiainted. and its mostly stress-relief and no one is privy to it except for jayce, who doesn't explicitly get told but after spending so much time in viktor's vicinity and also around mel he can sort of put together the pieces in a way that no one else can. and after a few years of this very casual no strings attached fling going on, mel and viktor both kind of realize that they need more to get the same thrill they did at the very beginning of their little arrangement.

which is where jayce comes in, after all the pieces are set in place.

inviting you to imagine jayce to have the same disposition as this poster on twitter while all this is going on because its an essential part of his characterization in this scenario i've concocted: "Me [heard "PAWG" and got so hard i got nauseous]: i think i hauve Covid." this describes jayce's state of mind far more succintly than i could ever hope to.

now, in this scenario, mel pulls the same little show that she does in season one that eventually leads jayce to sleep with her. this is without the added backdrop of viktor's illness getting bad because it's pre-act two. but jayce knows that mel has something going on with viktor, even if he can't really put into words what it is along with the fact that neither of them have ever said anything about it out loud. so jayce, trying not to do his friend dirty, asks 'what about viktor?' to which mel replies 'he doesn't have to know.'

viktor knows. he is incredibly aware of this. mel also knows this.

anyway cut back to mel's room and they're in the middle of foreplay where jayce is so unravelled at this point that he can't tell if he's enjoying himself or halfway to a panic attack because wow mel is so beautiful and he's lowkey been fantasizing about her for years but also he feels so guilty because he knows that he's definitely betraying viktor's trust but also now he's started getting into this he thinks he'll die if he tries to walk out on mel. which is obviously when viktor walks in.

now i hear you saying: wouldn't the natural reaction be for viktor to start yelling, asking what the hell is going on, or for mel and viktor to have constructed this entire charade for viktor to let loose on him in some weird continuation of their foreplay? i see where you are coming from. that is not the way this unfolds.

viktor, very blase and casual about it all, says 'don't mind me' and takes a seat in the corner. now he is a spectator.

mel is very into this. viktor is very into this. jayce thinks he's going to pass out and he can't exactly tell why. but also i want to remind you of the 'got so hard i got nauseous: i think i hauve covid' mindset jayce is walking into this with. now imagine that times about one hundred. this is the only way i can explain that somehow, some way, jayce continues and they sleep together similarly to the scene in season one while viktor watches them the whole time. jayce, privately, can't tell if he's into this or not. he thinks he is, which is terrifying, but he kind of ignores viktor the entire time and mel does too.

the next morning jayce wakes up. he is much more soberingly aware of what exactly went down the night before and thinks his life is essentially over. viktor is, like, his only friend besides caitlyn. and maybe yesterday mel wasn't thinking straight so she regrets it this morning and now she won't want to see him either. but he can't ask her because he woke up in her bed and she isn't here.

now, today is saturday, which is usually when he and viktor have breakfast together in the lab because they trade-off on treating each other to waffles from one of the pastry stores down the street after a week of hard work. jayce is already convinced that he's going to go down to that lab and find one of two things: 1) empty lab, no viktor and no waffles, where he will proceed to kill himself in his head and cry for about two hours before going home and lying in bed the rest of the day or 2) viktor in the lab, mad, and ready to ream him out in a way he couldn't when mel was in the room yesterday.

neither of these options are very appealing to jayce, so on his way down to the lab, as though he's walking to the gallows, he stalls and kills himself in his head preemptively about three hundred times. then, about half an hour later than he's usually there, walks in.

bad news: viktor is there. good news: there are also waffles?

jayce is baffled. then immediately jumps to the logical conclusion that this is a friendship break-up breakfast and they are never going to speak to each other again after this.

viktor, who heard jayce walk in a minute ago before he froze at the sight of pastries, turns around and is like 'what took you so long? you're never usually late.' very casual. jayce, again, is baffled. viktor is seemingly oblivious to jayce's gripes [not true. he is incredibly aware] and invites him to sit down and eat waffles. viktor does not mention the night before.

mel, when he eventually sees her later, doesn't mention it either. jayce is so confused. no one is talking about it. he expected to ruin this entire interconnected trio by sleeping with mel in front of viktor the night before but literally nothing has come from it and he is waiting for the other shoe to drop while also coming to a vaguely terrifying sexual awakening after interrogating the fact that he was kind of into it when viktor was watching him and mel in bed but also he really liked sleeping with mel when it was happening. but anyway, getting off-track.

this is the rundown:

jayce isn't talking about it. he's decided that viktor not talking about it is some sort of implicit forgiveness where they both silently decide to never discuss it again because then they don't have to dissolve their friendship and make the rest of their partnership awkward. viktor reinforces this belief by acting like absolutely nothing is wrong.

mel isn't talking about it. she is very aware of the fact that jayce is being put through the horrors and interacting with him after that night and acting like nothing at all has happened while continuing to flirt with him makes his reactions to her advances about twice as entertaining and three times as attractive in how disproportionatley flustered he gets every time.

viktor isn't talking about it. he doesn't care that jayce slept with mel because watching was kind of hot as fuck and he was into it and he thinks that watching jayce slowly die inside every time mel drops by in the lab is very entertaining. especially considering the fact that jayce would usually vent to him but because of The Night he is absolutely not going to bother viktor with sexual frustrations about mel.

mel and viktor don't talk about it with each other. they only debrief during one of their closet-detours during a party where they kind of get each other off while in a very false-casual tone mentioning off-handedly how much more fun it would be if jayce was here right now.

jayce is not aware of the extent to which they've manufactured that specific night and the aftermath to ensure that he is in the torture chamber at all times. mel and viktor are slowly wearing down at jayce with their own almost imperciptable advances. after The Night, the culmination of months of planning and pointed remarks and lusting from mel and viktor, everything becomes a waiting game. and lowkey a competition between the two of them, too: who can get jayce to crack and talk about it.

the moment he does talk about it, they plan to invite him into the fold by having viktor seduce him into sleeping with him before mel joins in properly instead of just watching. in this scenario, jayce wakes up and mel and viktor are both there and they act like this is also very normal until jayce goes with the flow and accepts this new throuple-ish dynamic where no one actually says anything.

for now, though, they are waiting. jayce has no idea any of this is going on. he is the most stressed man alive and he thinks he is going to die about three times a day and kills himself in his head once a week because he can not stop thinking about viktor in the corner of the room and also how entirely overwhelmingly good he felt all because of mel. and he thinks he is bisexual but he was employed and a little mentally unstable for most of his teenhood so this is the first time he's thinking about it. and mel and viktor are still having their closet-detours while trying to sweat jayce out.

to me personally, this is the ideal pre-act two, season one dynamic for meljayvik to work. hope you all see the vision too

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

Rose Recaps 2024 - Korea

Starting my list of favourite shows with Korea. They gave us so much angst, and some of them I still haven't fully been able to shake. Let's go.

The one with the existential dread

Love For Love's Sake

I was not ready. Not that I think there was a way I would be, but still. I was floored. It was an ambitious concept but executed pretty much flawlessly. If they had a bit more time, I think the world building could've benefited a little, cause there were parts that felt a bit rushed but overall the themes were well conveyed throughout. This show can be interpreted in a variety of ways, and one can take from it different things. For so much of this show I was filled with anxiety and sadness, but by the end the overall message of self love healed a small part of me. The visuals were strong and the actors did a wonderful job.

Favourite Moment:

Obvious perhaps, but no one can deny the beauty of this moment. Just the pure relief and joy I felt, made it one of my favourites of the year.

The one with all the yearning

The Time of Fever

I was so normal about this show. First let me just say, that I don't think of this show as a prequel. I know it is one, but I prefer to think of it as its own thing. This show drove me crazy. I suffered through it twice, and I kept finding new things that drove me insane. The yearning, the pining, the love these two have for each other that can only be rivalled by the fear they both share. Hotae is afraid of his feelings, because he can't understand them or can't accept them, but he also can't resist the pull. Donghee is afraid because he does understand, but he also knows what it means, so he needs to protect his friend from all the ugliness he himself has endured. And the actors just portrait these emotions so well. Truly some of the best acting I've seen this year. The camera work is outstanding, the framing always intentional and the lighting is good enough to break your heart.

Favourite Moment:

The heater between them??? Incredible. I'm still in awe of this whole scene. From the feeding of the orange slice to the kiss itself and their body language right to their expressions at the end. It was a flawless scene.

The one with all the trauma

Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo

Every week I was filled with excitement and dread waiting for new episodes. It was a painful journey for them and for me. Such a raw depiction of how trauma follows you long after you left the place where you endured it behind you. Closure is such an overused word, because it always sounds like there's a switch you can flip, and you're fine. Like it's that simple. The way Dohoe carried all of the abuse with him, how he shaped his life around it unconsciously, all along believing he was healing himself, it was heartbreaking to watch. And JuYeong. The boy who waited. The boy who understood and gave him the space to heal. Time stopped for 12 years for both of them. But they have a lifetime left to heal together and find happiness in the simple act of loving and being loved by each other.

Favourite Moment:

The symbolism destroyed me. The cross, the wall, the confession. Masterful.

The one that wasn't like the others

Love In The Big City

I don't even know what to say any more. It was an amazing adaption. Stellar acting, great script, gorgeous visuals. It's messy and it all feels so real. Young is one of my favourite characters of all time, both the one from the book and the one from the series. I wanted to hug him and hit him over the head at several points. I did appreciate the bigger presence of the T-aras, it left me more hopeful than the novel. I'm still not over the break up though.

Favourite Moment:

The honesty, the unconditional acceptance. To watch Young experience it for the first time was overwhelming.

Honourable mention to Boys Be Brave that I adored. And the only reason is not in this list is because of the second couple. They needed more time, and even with the time they had I thought the writing of that storyline was a bit messy. But I loved the mains.

See you soon with Taiwan, maybe. 💜