#he's just her realtor lol

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony ch6. the in-laws

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, and have been taking care of your sick mother ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket to more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance plan in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity, mentions of cigarettes, depression/anxiety; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ chapter. 6/x

ᰔ words. 12.6k

a/n. hiii my ihm lovelies!! hope you all had a great holiday season. i wanted to get this chapter out as a christmas gift but i failed and then i wanted to get it out as a new years post but failed and then i got food poisoning yesterday and while i was rotting in bed i ended up finishing the chapter LOL. it seems i can only write when i'm under duress? but anywho. hope you enjoy haha and see you at the bottom!

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“Alright, let’s head out,” you hear Gojo say from the bottom of the staircase, followed by the sound of dress shoes on the hardwood floor, and you glance over to see him clad in a navy suit with a white button up shirt that had one singular button undone. He’s messing with the cuffs of his suit jacket as he makes his way over to you. You catch the scent of his cologne, and it’s alarming how familiar it’s become to you.

Days go by shorter lately, mainly because it’s winter, and so the sun has almost fully set by 6pm. The sky outside is a dark hue of purple, seen past the windows of Gojo’s house, and the warm, dim lighting inside makes you feel strangely nostalgic. Like in a way that feels like home.

You tirelessly tousle with your hair at the mirror hanging above the foyer table that was snug up against the wall at the front entrance. Your hair wasn’t cooperating. You attempted to curl it, for the first time in forever given you can’t remember the last time you had enough time to do your hair, so you were out of practice. It was obvious, given the way some strands were curled outwards from your face, some inwards, some straighter than others, some curlier than others, and you were about to have a full blown mental breakdown before you remember your grounding exercises– 1, 2, 3, 4.

You turn to face Gojo, who you saw in the mirror was standing behind you and watching you with amusement, and you breathe in deep. “How do I look?” you ask, petting down the fabric of your dress as you face him. The thought occurs to you–why do you give so much of a fuck how you look right now? It’s just Gojo’s family. It’s not like they’re actually your in-laws. And from what Gojo’s mother had told you, it was just an intimate little get-together with Sana’s family. It’s really not a big deal. Yet the necessity to impress still consumes you.

Gojo threads his hands into the pockets of his pants and tilts his head to assess your appearance, and you watch his gaze trace the frame of you. “Nice,” he says, “you look nice.”

“That’s it? Just nice?”

“Well, I tried to call you hot earlier, but it got me yelled at.”

You roll your eyes and grab your purse off the foyer table, “okay, whatever, I’ll take it.” And then you head towards the front door. You hear the jingle of car keys from behind you as they’re shoved into a pocket.

The outside air is chilly in a way that’s almost sobering. Gojo opens the door for you to get inside his car and the warmth of your peach cobbler in your lap comforts some of the nerves you felt. By the time Gojo clicks his seatbelt into place in the driver seat, you realize you’ve never been in his car before, or driven anywhere by him before.

The interior smells of pine and something more familiar too, with sleek leather seats that are so comfortable they make you feel like you’re floating. You know it’s a Benz, you’re just not sure what year or model, and you’d usually ask most people out of a friendly curiosity, but for some reason your pride always got the best of you when it came to him.

“I seriously can’t wait to eat that thing you made,” Gojo comments after he’s backed out of the driveway, “it looks really nice.”

“Do you have a sweet tooth?” you ask him, glancing over at him, and you try not to stare at the strong one-handed grip he has on the steering wheel as he corrects it. 

“Oh yeah,” he answers, “big time.”

“You don’t seem like it,” you mindlessly say, turning your head to glance out into the dim street, passing by houses that idly sit in this neighborhood.

“Why’s that?” he asks.

“You seem to maintain a steady weight,” you politely comment.

You can hear the smile in his voice. “Is that the closest I’ll ever get to a compliment from you?”

You roll your eyes. “It’s just science. Hard to maintain a build if you eat a lot of sugar.”

He turns onto the mainroad, and you keep your gaze plastered to the outside. “I seem to manage.”

“It’s because you're tall. Tall people get to eat whatever they want.”

You see him nod his head once in your periphery, and you take it as some form of dismissal. “Sure.”

It doesn’t take terribly long to get to Gojo’s parents’ house, just a thirty-five minute drive without traffic. He kept surprisingly silent throughout most of it, and the few moments you did glance at his face, you could even say he looked like he was deep in thought. With a creased brow, a grip on the steering wheel that sometimes faltered, sometimes strengthened, but rarely fully eased. It was all so different from his usual impulse to talk. You know that you often wish for Gojo to shut the fuck up sometimes, but the silence seemed unsettling today.

His parents’ house is large, maybe twice the size of the homes in your neighborhood, but it’s tucked away in a slightly remote area, where the next closest house is about a quarter of a mile down the road. The driveway is long and runs downhill, so you stumble a little on the high heel of your shoe when you step down onto the pebbled pavement, but Gojo holds your elbow so you don’t fall onto your face. And also so you don’t drop the peach cobbler he so desperately wants to try. You’re not sure which of the two was the bigger priority for him.

As you two walk up the driveway towards the front entrance, you hear him sigh behind you. “Just so you know, my mom doesn’t really have any sense of boundaries.”

“Ah,” you comment, “nice to know where you get it from.”

He gives you an irritated look, seen in the corner of your eye, and it’s hard to fight the small amused smile that makes its way onto your face.

He sighs again as you two make it to the top of the steps. “Seriously, though. Chances of you wanting to leave me after this dinner are high.”

“Why? You’ve got a hot older brother I don’t know about or something?”

“I am the hot older brother,” he tells you.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, and then face him fully. “You’re not the first guy that’s warned me about his parents, okay? I’ll handle my own. What good is life if your in-laws–er, fake in-laws–aren’t at least a little strange?”

He lifts his finger to the doorbell, and just before pressing it, he says, “alright, then.”

It only takes twelve seconds for the door to swing open, the aroma of fresh herbs and something more sultry like vetiver arouse your senses, along with a warmth beckoning you from the inside of the home. 

Gojo’s mother stands at the doorway, surrounded by a halo of warm lighting, and her face instantly morphs into one of delightful glee.

“Oh! My dear, you’ve made it!” she exclaims happily, and just when you think she’s about to pull Gojo in for a hug, she pulls you in for one first instead, which startles you. “How lovely!”

“Oh—” you stutter, stumbling slightly as your nose becomes buried in the fluff of her silk pressed hair, but the delicate fragrance of lilac is somehow comforting.

She pulls you away to hold you by your shoulders. “You poor thing, you’re shivering! Come inside.” She hastily ushers you inside and you can feel the heat from Gojo’s body as he follows closely on your tail.

When his mother closes the door behind you, you find yourself surrounded by the kind of warmth only a house could provide. 

You take a small look around the foyer, noticing that it’s large with tones of deep wood and a bright white and golden chandelier that hangs daintily above in the cavity of the high ceilings. Leather, wood, velvet, silk, these are the textures that you see as you look around. It’s an old-fashioned taste, with a polished grand piano off to the right in the hall and display cases of vintage dolls and porcelain plates. So very different from modern, but it’s comforting. Like a wave of nostalgia, but from something you’ve never experienced before.

“What’s this?” Mrs. Gojo asks with curiosity lilting her voice as she walks up to you and points at the casserole dish you were holding.

“Oh, it’s peach cobbler,” you say, holding it up slightly with a small smile adorning your face, “for dessert.”

“How sweet! You’re an angel,” she coos, then twists her torso towards the kitchen, “honey! Come here, will you?”

Shuffling down the hallway from the heart of the house is, who you presume to be, Mr. Gojo. He’s tall, with his shoulders slightly curved forward as he approaches you all, and you note that he looks more aged than his missus.

“Ah, this must be my new daughter-in-law,” he says, his voice gruff and crackly from years of use. You smell the faintest hint of smoke from his clothing.

You glance at Gojo, who is watching you interact with his parents, an unreadable expression on his face as his hands remain shoved into the pocket of his suit pants.

Mr. Gojo takes the peach cobbler from you and gives you a curt smile before taking it back towards the kitchen.

“Darling, I must say, you have a lovely figure—” Gojo’s mother begins to say, reaching her hand out to hover it over the curve of your waist, but just at that moment, Gojo comes up to stand in between the two of you.

“Alright, what time’s dinner?” he asks.

Mrs. Gojo glances up at him, her face immediately twisting into a frown. “Nevermind that. I want to take y/n with me back to the kitchen to help braise the chicken,” she says, grabbing a hold of your wrist and tugging you towards her.

“Oh—” you stumble slightly.

“Nope,” you hear Gojo say from beside you, and suddenly there’s a strong arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls you back to his side, “she stays with me for the night.” You’d remember to blush at the feeling of being pressed flush up against him, but the shock overshadowed.

“Satoru!” Mrs. Gojo exclaims, rather loudly, and she lets out a hmph noise before placing her hands on her hips. “You’re no fun!”

“I’m not gonna let you indoctrinate her into whatever multi-level marketing scheme you’ve fallen victim to this month,” he says, his hold on your waist tightening.

“How petulant!” she says, trying to manage a stern look but Gojo doesn’t seem fazed by it, “quit acting like I’m going to corrupt her! I’m not some witch.”

“Your track record would prove otherwise,” he comments.

“Oh please, the only other time was when you brought—”

She suddenly stops speaking, her eyes going wide, and she glances at you. You cluelessly tilt your head at her.

Ah. The other woman. This mysterious ex-wife. Would you be the other woman in this case? Seeing as to how his entire family seems to walk on eggshells about the subject around you. And they all seem to think that any mention of her would devastate you, when really, you and Gojo aren’t even actually lovers.

But there’s a small part of you,

A teeny tiny part,

Revealed from the way your heart sank at the realization of who his mother was referring to,

That actually does feel some type of way about it.

You want to know who this woman was to him. Does he still think of her? Does he still love her? What happened between them? Was she the one that got away? And how does he feel about the fact that he’s now here with you?

You shake your head vigorously to get those thoughts out of your head.

It was like method acting. You stepped into the role of wife this evening, and now you feel the way that they expect you to feel at the mention of your husband’s ex-lover.

That must be the reason, right?

You slowly push yourself out of Gojo’s hold, and you try not to become hyper aware of his eyes on you as you smooth out the fabric of your dress, then you glance at his mother.

“I’d love to help you braise the chicken,” you say.

There’s a brief silence as you find your voice in this house, and then Mrs. Gojo flashes you a grin.

“Come with me, honey,” she says before wrapping a delicate hand around your wrist and pulling you towards the heart of the house.

There are pictures hung up on the walls as you brush past every hallway, along with peeling wallpaper that is peppered with florals and striped prints, sanded off from years of shoulders brushing against their surfaces in a way that creates an old, dated charm. You learn quickly that Gojo has always been pretty tall, judging from the photo of him standing with, whom you assume are his middle school friends, out on a boat, holding a bass the size of a small child. 

There’s photos of the four of them together, like one professionally taken photo where Gojo and Sana are knelt in front of their parents, and your gaze fixates on the strong grip Mr. Gojo has on his son’s shoulder, digging deep in the bone, creasing the fabric, almost desperately. Gojo looks young in the photo, maybe a recent high school graduate, and his smile is bright but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

And, God, the trophies. The trophies that adorned the surfaces of aged cedar wood dressers, seemingly random in the order they are sprawled across the display yet you know there was intention behind it too. Ballet, soccer, tennis, spelling bee, FRC, even dragon boat racing. 

“Feel free to take any of those home,” Mrs. Gojo says with a teasing tone, “you eventually get tired of staring at them.”

You wouldn’t know. Your mother never had much extra cash hanging around to take you to tennis lessons, or ballet lessons, or SAT prep, or whatever. You were lucky enough that you got into college with the cards you were dealt, but you sometimes wonder what your potential could’ve been if you had parents like Gojo did. Maybe the house you live in would be your own, and not something that your mother has spent the past forty years of her life trying to pay off. Maybe you’d have a freshly renovated kitchen and a pretty boat out on the street. But throwing a pity party for yourself right now wasn’t exactly going to get you through the evening.

Mrs. Gojo finally leads you into the kitchen, and the aroma of fresh herbs overwhelms your senses. 

“Smells wonderful,” you comment.

“I know,” she cheekily comments, “will you turn the meat please?”

You grab a pair of tongs and attempt to sear the cuts that were sizzling on the stove.

“Sooooo,” she coos, wasting no time to playfully bump her hip to yours, “how is married life?”

“Nice,” you respond, your cheeks warming slightly, “it’s nice.”

“It won’t always be that way, you know,” she muses with some underlying sense of sincerity that isn’t lost on you.

When you remain quiet, concentrating on the searing sizzling noises coming from the pan, she decides to keep speaking.

“Eventually, you two will settle in a little too much…start to care less about your bodies…and then, oh gosh, when kids come into the picture, forget about having any time for yourselves,” she continues, “some days you’ll resent him, others you’ll feel like it’s the first time all over again.” She sighs. “Marriage is a funny thing—”

“Mrs. Gojo,” you interrupt her, turning to face her, “I—…I really appreciate you, I do, but, um, I’ve already learned a lot already about marriage from my own parents. Things are fine between Satoru and me.” You look into her widened eyes. “And…if something does happen down the line, and we choose not to be together anymore, then that’s okay too.”

After all, you had to prepare her.

“But that’s the thing!” she chirps, “your generation is too—…too impatient. Unwilling to work anything out! A marriage is supposed to be hard, but also it’s something you aren’t supposed to give up on so easily.”

It’s your turn to meet her with widened eyes in response to her preaching, and her posture immediately deflates before she holds you gently by your arm.

“I’m sorry, honey…I know it’s too early to be saying all these things to you,” she says, managing a small smile, “I always forget that I’m too old to be doting on my children like this anymore.”

Your expression softens and you wrap your palm over her bony knuckles, feeling the thinness of the skin that stretches over them. In a brief glimpse, you see your own mother in Mrs. Gojo’s eyes, something familiar, a universal expression of the love a parent has for their child.

“Well…” you say after clearing your throat, “for what it’s worth, you have nothing to worry about, Mrs. Gojo.” You try to manage a small smile. “I’m—…I’m really happy with your son.”

It was hard to lie to someone like this, especially from the way there’s relief that floods her irises, a genuine feeling that is so hard to come by in these days of false niceties. You often wonder how far a single white lie can stretch before it shatters against its own resistance.

“That’s a relief,” she says, managing her own prim smile, “I’m so glad.”

The two of you finish up in the kitchen, and when you circle around back into the hall, you see Sana standing in the warmly lit family room with Gojo and their dad.

Sana catches your eye, and you purse your lips together hesitantly before walking up to her.

“Hey,” you say softly and she returns the small smile you give her.

“Hi,” she says back to you.

“Um, where’s Juno?” you ask, looking around.

“Oh, she has a sleepover at her friend’s house tonight,” Sana says, “Jun’s dropping her off, and then he’ll come by here later.”

“Ah, I see,” you comment, itching at your elbow from the awkwardness.

“Well,” Mr. Gojo says, gesturing towards the dining room, “let’s eat, shall we?”

The three of you nod at him.

It’s fascinating to watch how the family falls naturally into their chairs, an assigned seating pattern that stays consistent among all dining halls and rooms and tables in the world, one that every family has. Mr. Gojo sits at the head of the table, his wife to his left, his son to his right. Sana sits quaintly to her mother’s left, and you sit across from her to Gojo’s left. The one empty seat is left for the presence of Jun.

“Food looks wonderful, darling,” Mr. Gojo says before leaning over to place a kiss on her bashful cheek.

Your heart does something weird at the sight. A simultaneous twinge paired with a warmer feeling that follows. You hardly witnessed any affection within your household growing up, not between your parents at least, probably because you were young when they got divorced and so the turmoils and tribulations started long before you had any higher order of cognitive discernment beyond the childish interest in Disney princesses and The Backyardigans. For you, the only memories that last of your parents’ marriage are those that feel like nothing more than the frigidity of a business arrangement. Ironically similar to the one you were currently in with Gojo. Except at least yours hadn’t been initially built on a foundation of love and a promise to be there for one another until death did you two apart.

Death was knocking on your mother’s doorstep now. But your father was nowhere to be found. So much for a vow.

Mr. Gojo pours his son a glass of whiskey, single malt as read on the label. Mrs. Gojo pours you and Sana a glass of red wine, and you try to hide the grimace, because you would’ve much rather had the whiskey.

“To y/n,” Mr. Gojo says, raising his glass up into the air, “for being our newest addition to the family.”

You all clink your glasses together, then in a variety of pairings, the last one being the tap of Gojo’s glass against yours, before you all take a drink.

“So…” Mrs. Gojo speaks up, “exactly how long have the two of you been married?”

You glance at Gojo for help, which isn’t exactly an unsuspecting thing to do.

“Four weeks,” he says.

You watch Mrs. Gojo’s eyes twitch. You can understand. Her own son gets married and doesn’t tell her anything about it for four weeks after the wedding. Well, in your case, a courthouse arrangement.

“Where did you two go for your honeymoon?” she asks, and Mr. Gojo clears his throat.

You look at Gojo for help again, and mentally pinch yourself for not being more discreet about how fake this whole thing is.

But Gojo surprisingly looks at ease. “Greece,” he says, and leaves it at that.

Mrs. Gojo’s body language turns to you, clearly irritated by her son’s short and curt answers. “Did you have a fun time, dear?”

“Oh! Yes, it was a very fun time. Definitely did all the newly wed stuff. Just as normal newlyweds do, you know. Because we are newlyweds,” you say through an awkward cough.

“Like…?” Mrs. Gojo pushes, and you can tell that she’s asking out of a genuine curiosity over the itinerary you two had allegedly carried out, but you crack under the pressure.

“W—…We made love,” you say, “we made lots and lots of love.”

The sound of silverware clanking onto ceramic plates startles you out of the blissful ignorance you had to the words that you had just said. Like you were so caught up in your mind about wanting to seem like an actual real life couple to his parents that you almost forgot about the number one social rule when meeting your (fake) significant other’s parents: no references to copulation. 

You glance up to find Mrs. Gojo’s eyes are wide, a slight tinge of pink to her cheeks. The width of Mr. Gojo’s eyes match his wife’s except his expression is also duly accompanied by a furrowed, perplexed brow. Sana looks visibly uncomfortable, shifting in her seat and trying hard to put on a poker face as she pretends like she didn’t just hear what you said.

You finally glance at Gojo, who’s looking at you with the most what the fuck? face you’ve ever seen someone make, and there’s concern on there somewhere too, like he’s not even fully convinced that you’re mentally sane at the moment because why on God’s green Earth would you say something like that at a family dinner table.

Trying your best to laugh it off, you say, “ah…ahaha, d-did I say make love? I meant–I meant that we–”

“Just–” Gojo interrupts you. “Just stop.”

Everyone are still stunned silent and the flush to your cheeks grows warmer. While clearing your throat, you set your lap napkin up on the table and clumsily scootch yourself out of your chair.

“Ex…cuse…me...” you mumble under your breath, knocking the table with your knee on accident, your wine glass almost toppling all over the pretty linen tablecloth but your reflexes catch the stem to steady it. “I need to…use the restroom.” And then you head straight down the hallway without sparing them another glance.

“Use the upstairs one!” Mrs. Gojo calls out to you, “the guest bathroom is under renovation.”

“Of fucking course it is,” you mutter under your breath, but flash them a polite smile before rounding the staircase pillar and then briskly walking up the stairs.

You quickly realize there’s more personality to the house upstairs, with some clutter in the theater loft and mismatching decorations that don’t reveal the careful deliberation of an indoor designer. The master bedroom is directly to the right of the top of the staircase and you glance across the loft at a narrow hallway that leads into the three bedrooms tucked away into the heart of the house.

One foot after the other, you float in that direction as if some force were compelling you towards it. Some trance of curiosity that no human being could ever resist. It’s fine. You didn’t actually need to piss anyways.

The first bedroom you walk past is rather boring, with beige tones all around. Beige bed sheets, beige wall paint, beige lamp shade, beige curtains. But the air smells crisp, and you notice there’s a shelf that has about half a dozen plants lined up in a variety of artistic pots. Similar to the set-up Gojo has in his house at home. You walk inside and brush your fingers across the dresser surface, rubbing fine dust over the pads of your fingers, and with your next inhale, you sneeze.

A guest bedroom, you think to yourself.

The next bedroom you walk past is sweeter, kinder, warmer. There’s pink hues scattered across, the most obvious one being the pillow covers, and there are some shades of a baby blue as well. But the furniture looks modern, sleek, and new. There were two identities at war in the room, like that of a little girl and a grown woman. Neither able to find its voice among the chaos of friendship bracelets sprawled across the desk and the Louis Vuitton purse resting at the foot of the bed. 

Sana’s room, you think to yourself. 

Childhood bedrooms are like time capsules if left untouched for very long. You’ve lived in your room at home for as long as you can remember, only recently having shifted to the master bedroom. The room grew up with you. It had no chance to become some entity of its own. 

The next bedroom you walk by feels familiar, even before you walk inside. There’s a comforting feeling that envelopes just from the lighting alone. You push the door open with a gentle palm.

The culprit of any young man’s room–navy blue sheets. Stretched taut against a made-up bed that has some sort of feminine flair to it, like it wasn’t set by Gojo, but rather his mother passing by his room one day to sit in his absence, only to needlessly mess with the sheets because it gave her a sense of purpose. You go eighteen years pouring blood, sweat, and tears into raising a child, protecting them, nurturing them, being the one they lean on for all of life’s woes, only for them to pack up and leave one day. You suppose that if you were a parent, you would find melancholy in that loss of responsibility too. 

His desk is a large expanse of cedar wood with a desktop monitor and some bookshelf speakers set up on it. The PC itself has collected dust over the years but there’s a small mechanical whirring noise you hear somewhere within. The rest of the desk is mostly empty except for some unopened mail tucked away with some books, the spines creased at the last few hundred pages, but never to the end. 

You pick one of the books up, flipping the pages open, and see sticky notes on some of them. Like English literature notes one would take in class, with studious words that over exaggerate the significance of the prose just to make a teacher happy. Who cares if the curtains were blue? Maybe the author just wanted them to be blue. Why does everything in life have to have meaning?

Setting the book back down with a sigh, you walk over to the bookshelf. There are some more trophies, some sets of comic books, some strange robotic-looking figurines. Small picture frames of foreign scenery are set up in different corners wherever there is empty space, like an afterthought. 

“Hmm…” you hum to yourself, tilting your head to the side to read the vertical spine of a thick black book that was tucked flush up against the shelf's side. 

West Valley High School. Class of 2007.

With your index finger hooking the spine, you slowly pull the book out from its comfy corner. It’s heavy in your hands and you notice that there are ink smudges across the tips of your fingers.

When you open the cover, you’re met with a page filled with a variety of colors and handwriting, and you realize they’re signatures. And to no one’s surprise, most of them are feminine. With hearts, some merely outlines, some shaded in with ink, scattered across the page. Bubbly handwriting, neat handwriting, cursive handwriting, a lot of it in pinks and purples and reds. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think it was like those Valentine’s Day cards all the girls would sign in grade school to pass onto their crush, except imagine if all of them were intended for just one guy.

You roll your eyes as you flip the pages, seeing no end in sight to the signed ink. I mean, come on, how many signature pages does a yearbook even need? This was excessive. And, no, you aren’t bitter simply because your high school yearbook has maybe a max of fifteen signatures (four of which were from your teachers). It’s just frustrating. And confusing. Why does everyone on this planet adore Gojo except you? Is there something wrong with you? Are you the problem?

There are some signatures from boys too, most likely his friends. Otherwise, you’re not sure what random fleeting classmate you’ve only spoken to a couple times would be brazen enough to draw pictures of penises squirting in whatever empty space they could find in your yearbook, if not for his high school friends. These boys are probably in their mid thirties now, just as Gojo is, maybe with wives and kids they’re now responsible for. You wonder if they’d still find the drawings funny all the same today.

You flip the pages more, taking in image after image after image of smiling portraits. ABC…DE…F…ah, G. Hmm, there. There it was. 

Gojo Satoru.

Seems like his high school didn’t allow yearbook quotes, but you try to imagine what his would be. Probably something corny and lame, like See kids? I told you I was sexy in high school.

He looks cute though. With his hair fluffy, boyishly ruffled to pair with a charming smile that’s at ease. He just looks a little younger, that’s all. Not that much different. Perhaps a bit more scrawny, a bit more mischievous-looking. As opposed to his adult self, who appears sturdy. More serious. But you realize that cheeky part of him that comes out every now and then when he’s teasing you or pissing you off is that boy within him that looks exactly like the portrait in this yearbook that you trace with the pad of your finger. 

You close the book, suddenly a little out of breath, and then slip it back into place. Your eyes catch the shimmer of the trophy at the top of the shelf. It was shaped like a baseball glove mitt, and in the palm cup, there is an actual baseball in there with a black ink signature. You gently pick it up and turn it in your palm to try and read the ink.

Ichiro.

Your dad used to watch baseball. You’re familiar. Seattle Mariners, Ichiro Suzuki. The first Japanese player to ever make it to the Major Leagues. Ten time all-star, and tenth member of the Mariners hall of fame. He retired when you were just a little girl, but you still remember the look of awe in your father’s eyes as he stared at the box TV in the living room of your house when Ichiro took his last stand at the plate.

Gojo was also a boy at that time. Living in this house. Maybe his old man was watching that game at the same time. And maybe Gojo was watching the look on his father’s face, too. It’s the romance of life–you look up at the moon in the sky, and you know that there is someone else out there, someone that you’ll meet some day, maybe even someone that will mean the world to you someday, who’s looking at it too. But you just don’t know it yet.

Lost in endless, rather fruitless thought, you continue to turn the baseball in your hand to pointlessly assess the seams, but it slips out of your hand and onto the carpeted floor with a loud hollow thud that startles you, and when you attempt to bend down and pick it up, you accidentally push it with your toe and it rolls underneath the bed.

“Shit,” you mumble, getting down onto your hands and knees to look underneath the bed.

You see the ball rolled a few feet away, and when you reach for it, it becomes clear that you don’t have the arm span to grab it. You struggle and you struggle, the tips of your fingers barely tickling its seam, and the frustration makes you sweat a little.

“Come…here…you…stupid…thing,” you mutter. You’re sure your hair is a static mess now, too. 

You finally manage to roll it towards you a couple inches and then your palm wraps around it before pulling it to your shoulder, but not without something collateral that’s dragged along with it.

A photograph. Printed out, vintage. You pinch the corner between your two fingers and stand back up onto your two feet in order to better assess the image under the light of the floor lamp.

The first person you notice in the photo is Gojo. He looks younger than in the yearbook, but he’s wearing a suit and a tie. It’s a little big on him, ill-fitting as most teenage boys should look in a suit, like a rite of passage. His smile is less warm than the one in the yearbook too, more prim and stretched into a thin line that’s only slightly curved upwards. It’s only then when you notice the slender fingers sprawled across his chest near the collar of his undershirt, black nail polish blending in with the fabric of the suit. Your eyes trail the dainty hand, and your heart skips a beat when you see a girl standing next to him, pressed up against him, her smile much brighter than his. Pink braces line her teeth and her hair is that classic mid-2000s side-swept bang mess, but she’s pretty. Dressed in a pink-ish purple gown that almost looks like a bridesmaids dress, and you finally see the banner stretched across behind the both of them in the picture that reads Homecoming 2005. 

It’s hard to explain it, but you can just feel it somehow. That this person is important to him. Not just some last-minute date to Homecoming, or an old high school girlfriend he’s long since lost touch with. It seems larger than that, somehow. Unlike penises drawn on yearbook paper, this feels like something a person never outgrows.

Of course, people have lived fully-fledged lives before you’ve met them. Just as you have as well. But you’re overtaken by the insane curiosity to want to learn every single detail about this past life that Gojo has lived. Where did he and his friends hang out after school? When did he learn how to drive? When was the first time he got shit-faced drunk? When was the first time he snuck out of the house? And who was this girl in the picture? 

“Find what you’re lookin’ for yet?” a voice calls out, entirely startling you to where you almost jolt out of your skin, and you swiftly turn on your heel towards the entrance of the room. 

You see Gojo standing in the door frame, leaning against it with his arms crossed as he levels his gaze at you. He has a blank expression on his face, although you would say it’s more serious than playful. 

“What–...I–” you stutter, shuffling the picture you were holding behind your back so he doesn’t see. 

His eyes don’t flit to the movement. “You don’t have to tear the room apart to find my illicit drugs. You could’ve just asked.”

 You roll your eyes. “As if you would do drugs.”

“You say that like it’s an insult.”

“It is.”

“So, then, if you’re not looking for drugs, what are you looking for?”

Your cheeks are warm. “I don’t know. Petty cash? Human body parts? Playboy?”

He snorts. “Playboy? Who still has a subscription to Playboy?”

“Maybe your teenage self did.”

“I’m not that old,” he says, “I was watching porn like the rest of my peers.”

“Ew, you freak,” you say, and you grab one of his pillows and throw it at him.

He lets out a laugh before catching the pillow with ease, and then walks up to you, placing the pillow on top of your head. You half-glare, half-pout at him.

“C’mon,” he probes, “tell me why you’re hiding away up here.”

“I embarrassed myself,” you confide in him with a sulk of your shoulders. “I mean. Seriously. What the fuck was that? What a humiliating thing to say in front of your parents. I just feel so weird pretending like this.”

His expression softens. “Sorry,” he says, “for dragging you into this dinner.”

“No,” you sigh, “I’m the one that did. I forgot you can’t necessarily fake a marriage without…doing the typical couple things.”

“Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm,” he hums as his gaze flits towards the bed, “doing the typical couple things, you say?”

You roll your eyes. “In your dreams.”

“Oh, in my dreams alright,” he says with a grin.

“And if I strangled you? What then?”

“I like that. It’s kinky.”

“And I’m supposed to believe you don’t have magazines lying around?”

“Brown box underneath the bed. You didn’t look hard enough.”

You give him a disgusted look. He laughs.

“I’m joking,” he says, pushing his hands into his pockets.

“I’m not convinced,” you say, turning your body away from him slightly to keep the photo hidden behind your back.

He tilts his head at you, gaze flickering down to your other hand. Your heart skips a beat. “I could’ve guessed that.” 

His hand reaches out and you flinch ever so slightly, something he thankfully doesn’t notice, and then he’s grabbing the baseball out of your palm.

“I always thought I could sell this thing for major money,” he muses, throwing the ball up into the air to catch it. And then doing so again a couple times.

“It’s authentic?” you ask with genuine curiosity.

“Oh yeah. I caught it. First ball game my old man ever took me to, and it happened to be Ichiro’s last.”

Your eyes widen. Gojo was at that game. He wasn’t just watching it from home on some TV like you did with your dad. He was living in it.

“Wow,” you say, “must’ve been quite the game.”

“Don’t really remember too much about it to be honest, other than how stoked I was to just be there with my dad.”

“Mm,” you hum, “I’ll have to ask Mr. Gojo more about it when we get downstairs.”

His expression falters slightly, his smile dropping in the most subtle way that you wouldn’t have even noticed if you hadn’t been intently staring at his face. 

“Yeah,” he says, “maybe.”

Gojo continues to stare at the ball in his palm as he rotates it in inspection. There’s an awkward silence that settles between the two of you, and you feel the burden of conversation has suddenly fallen on you. 

“My, um. My dad was a fan too,” you say.

His eyes glance up to meet yours. “How come I’ve never met him?”

The question catches you off guard. “Wh–...I’m sorry, what?”

“Your dad,” he says, as if it was something so casual. 

“That–...well, he’s–...I don’t know, I haven’t seen him in years,” you admit, “not since…not since my mother was diagnosed with cancer.”

He stares at you earnestly, studying your expression, before he decides on saying nothing else except, “I’m sorry about that.”

You sigh. “Satoru, I–” you start, keen on the way his body stiffens slightly when you say his name, “I really don’t have the capacity for much else tonight. I mean, the questions. And the lies. And walking on eggshells around your mom.” 

“Well. I was sent up here to get you,” he says, “and I can’t exactly go downstairs empty handed.”

“Fine. Let’s just get this dinner over with as fast as possible.”

“Sure,” he easily agrees, “I’m with you on that one.”

You take a step forward to head towards the door, but then suck in a sharp gasp when you remember what was being held behind your back.

“Wait,” you say, “look away.”

“...huh?” he huffs, a puzzled look on his face.

“Just look away for a second.”

His eyebrows furrow before he lifts one in a questioning manner. But he acquiesces and turns on his heel to face away from you. “Have I ever told you how strange you are?”

“No,” you say while discretely crouching down, playing along in an attempt to distract him, “you haven’t.” You flinch a little from the sound of your hip popping, but he doesn’t seem to notice and so you bend your wrist in preparation of flinging the photo back to the abyss underneath his bed.

But you stop.

And you take one more glance at the photo.

And your stomach flips the same way it did the first time you saw it.

If you asked, would he tell you?

But the more pressing question is,

Why are you so scared to find out?

You shake your head vigorously to get rid of all your pestering intrusive thoughts. It was the stress, you played it off. A hyperactive mind leads to hyperactive ruminations. And besides, it’s just silly. Sure, there’s your gut feeling that suggests otherwise. But this girl in the photo could really just be an old friend or girlfriend that had no significant impact on the trajectory of his life. Why be the crazy one and lose sleep over this? You’ve lost sleep over plenty of other things in your life, but not stuff like this. It’s just not like you.

You fling the photo across underneath the bed and then stand up just in time for when Gojo turns around to look at you out of curiosity.

“Alright,” you say, dusting your hands off, “let’s go.”

You walk over to where he stands by the doorframe, a slight warmth to your cheeks when he doesn’t move out of your way like he usually does, but instead he leans towards you slightly as you brush past him, and your heart jumps a beat in your chest when you feel his hand gently fall to the small of your back, softly urging you forward ahead of him. A feather of a touch, yet intentional, almost naturally so, like a curious test of the boundary between you two that he’s been dying to understand a bit better. And the fact you don’t turn on your heel to face him with that same undeserved and petty rage that you always do, and instead slightly shudder at the feel of his touch, means that somewhere along the way, you’ve moved the line a little closer.

He’s hot on your trail as you walk down the stairs slowly and when you turn around the post at the bottom then make your way back to the dining room, you see his family staring at you with wide eyes.

His mother stands up. “y/n! Come sit back down, dear.”

You nod meekly, and Gojo pulls your chair out for you to take a seat before he resumes his seat next to you.

The food is slightly cold by the time you finally get to pick at it. It’s not very seasoned, either. Not enough salt for your taste. But somehow Mrs. Gojo having a phobia of sodium is a study of character that makes perfect sense in your head.

Eventually, the awkward silence is too much for you to bear, and you set your fork and knife down on your napkin with a slight bit more force than you probably should’ve.

Everyone looks at you.

You sigh. “I’m sorry for earlier,” you say, “I’m…uh, I’m just not really used to these sorts of dinners…I don’t have much family here in this town, and it’s always just sort of been my mom and me. And I—…I guess I’m just a little nervous.”

Wide eyes blink at you. Mr. Gojo shifts a little uncomfortably in his seat while Mrs. Gojo blinks her long lashes at you. Sana tilts her head, and you have no interest in seeing what Gojo’s expression looks like. You fear it’s the one you’d remember the most.

You were just being honest with how you felt. And it doesn’t take you long to realize something you probably should’ve realized earlier walking into a home like this where everything was perfect and on display with no evidence of the way a true family can crumble on the inside—a house like this does not value honesty. Your mother couldn’t afford you many luxuries in life, but you never felt like you couldn’t be honest in front of her. 

You glimpse up at Sana, and there is some knowing expression on her face. It’s almost sympathetic. As if you two were on the same page about something right now. When you glance at Gojo, you see him staring down at his plate with his brow slightly furrowed.

“It…it’s quite alright, dear,” his mother says through a prim voice, and in an attempt to change the subject, she says, “I do hope you are enjoying the chicken.”

“Ah,” you exhale, “yes. I am.”

“So!” Mrs. Gojo chimes in again as she dabs her mouth to a linen napkin. “Tell me about what you do for fun.”

You blink at her. “Oh, umm…binge watch TV? Occasionally I’ll go for a walk.”

“Ahh interesting! What about reading? Do you enjoy reading?”

“Well, the last book I purchased was a picture book about North Korean missiles…so.”

She lets out a laugh. “And where do you see yourself in five years?”

You hear Gojo sigh beside you before he reluctantly sets down his silverware and then he turns to Mrs. Gojo. “Mom. C’mon. This isn’t a job interview. Just let her eat.”

There’s a slight tinge of pink to the tips of her ears from the interrogation interruption as she glances between the two of you. She looks over at Sana for help but finds nothing other than a gaze tipped down towards a plate full of picked-at food. Mr. Gojo folds a hand over her frail knuckles as if to silently communicate, but Mrs. Gojo retreats her hands to fold in her lap underneath the table.

Feeling somewhat bad for the two of them, you turn the face Gojo’s dad. “Um…Mr. Gojo, Satoru was telling me about how you were a big baseball fan and a big Ichiro fan…do you still keep up with the Mariners?”

The man’s eyes grow wide with a visible confusion and you swear you hear Gojo clear his throat beside you.

“Ah…that’s–” he starts before the sound of the doorbell ringing startles you.

Sana immediately stands up without a word of excusal or a glance in anyone’s direction and she heads straight for the door.

You all look around at one another before Mrs. Gojo says, “must be Jun.”

You were at least glad to find you would not be the only “in-law” at the table full of a tension-laced family dinner, especially given the fact that in most of the cases where you’ve met Jun, his penchant to talk overshadows any other energy.

“What’s up, y/n!” Jun shouts when he waltzes into the dining hall, a few steps ahead of Sana. He throws his jacket over the first surface he finds, body language matching that of someone twenty years younger than he actually is. You can’t tell if it’s overcompensation for something, or if he just genuinely believes he’s still in his twenties. 

To your surprise, he opens his arms out for you to greet him with a hug, and you hesitate before standing up slightly to give him a well-meaning wrap of your arms around him, but it lacks any warmth of familiarity.

“Welcome to the fam!” he jovially exclaims before patting your arm. He then hugs Mr. Gojo, then Mrs. Gojo (paired with those cheek kisses that the French do in greeting), then daps up Gojo (to which you notice Gojo is less than enthusiastic about) before he finally kisses Sana on the cheek and then takes his seat at the other end of the table. Your eyes are keen on Sana now, watching her intently, but she remains staring at the food on her plate. You had a feeling there was someone in this room that didn’t want to be at this dinner even more than you did.

“How was traffic, Jun?” Mr. Gojo asks.

“Oh it was nothing. Took a shortcut. Backroute off of Lake City Way. Full of pot holes though.”

Sana turns to him and scowls. “While you were taking Juno to her sleepover?!”

He lifts an eyebrow at her. “Yeah? We were running late.”

“How many times do I have to tell you not to take that route to get into the city! Those pot holes are so dangerous.”

“Honey. Chill. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Just last week I saw news of three plot holes on the Mercer Street intersection opened up. Three people were injured, including a young boy.”

“Okay well if I also believed everything I saw on the news was going to personally happen to me too then we’d have never gotten this far in life.”

“Jun,” Sana deadpans.

“W-Why don’t I fix you a plate, Jun? You must be tired.” Mrs. Gojo chimes in. 

Sana breathes in deep and exhales slowly before slumping down into her chair. 

“Thanks,” Jun says, easing his brow as he sits back in his chair nonchalantly, before he turns to Gojo and starts to talk about mundane things like the stock market, the recent election, something about a new bowling record, and this one Thai restaurant he really wants to try on the other end of town, all within the span of time it takes Mrs. Gojo to set a plate down in front of him.

Mr. Gojo jumps in on conversation from time to time. Mrs. Gojo listens idly, sometimes placing a laugh where she feels appropriate. Jun gets particularly animated about this incident he ran into earlier last week when he was dropping Juno off at school, a story that you notice everyone at the table is for some reason entirely intrigued by, but you suppose it’s the most interesting topic of conversation you’ve all had tonight thus far. At certain critical points of the story, Sana jumps in with a that’s not what happened, Jun and you find yourself finally settling in somewhat to the evening.

Just as Jun’s story is ending, you glance up to Mrs. Gojo and find that she’s staring at you with a smile on her face. It makes you jump in your seat a little, luckily unnoticed by the rest of the table because of Jun’s engaging theatrical hand gestures as he attempts to keep his wife, his brother-in-law and his father-in-law engaged. You would’ve expected Mrs. Gojo to avert her gaze the second yours locked with hers, but she doesn’t. She just continues to look at you with a soft smile on her face and a slight tilt to her head, like she’s getting used to the sight of seeing you at this table.

Her gaze flits downwards slightly and you follow her line of gaze, tracing it to the ring that was adorning your left hand. 

Your eyes widen slightly.

“Oh–” you stutter, the words already getting caught in your throat, “I–...I forgot to say, it’s an honor to wear your ring, Mrs. Gojo.” The table suddenly goes quiet, and you can’t tell if it’s because of you, or if it’s because there was no more story left to tell. “It’s beautiful.”

It truly felt like for every two steps you took forward, it was ten steps backwards. Because you watch the way that soft smile of hers entirely drops, her expression replaced with one of confusion, brows knitted together as she looks at you like you’ve just spoken in a language no one on Earth can speak. 

She glances at Gojo, and you don’t have to look at him  to tell that he’s stiff in his seat. You could’ve felt the tension from a mile away. 

Mrs. Gojo looks at you again. “Oh honey, that–” She glances between you and Gojo. “That’s not my ring…”

Your eyes widen, cheeks already flush from whatever’s to come.

But suddenly, and to your surprise, Sana speaks up. “It was our mother’s ring.”

You look at her with confusion. And then you glance at Gojo. And then you glance back at Sana. And then at Mr. & Mrs. Gojo.

“But…” you trail off.

“Sumiko and Daichi are our aunt and uncle,” Sana says with a strained voice, “our real parents died in a house fire when we were younger.”

You blink at her in shock.

“He didn’t tell you?” Mr. Gojo asks.

“I–” You glance at Gojo and see that he’s poking his tongue to the inside of his cheek as he stares down at the glass of scotch he was twirling around in his hand.

“Of course he didn’t,” Sana interrupts, the bitterness in her voice matching the attitude she’s since displayed this entire evening. Her gaze is locked onto her brother’s face, and when his gaze flickers up to meet her eye contact, his expression is set with a tense jaw. “He never wants to mention them. He never wants to acknowledge their life. He never wants to honor them. He just wants to pretend like they never existed.”

“Sana,” he cuts her off, and a chill gets sent down your spine from the seriousness and rigidity in his voice. “Now’s not the time for this.”

“When is the fucking time?!” she spats at him, the simmering tension brewing over. Ah. Yes. The moment you had been expecting. After all, what family does not have its baggage? Sana abruptly stands up from the table, startling everyone with the clanking of silverware and ceramic from the motion. “When is the fucking time for you to admit that you never gave a shit about mom and dad dying? When is the fucking time for you to admit that we moved on to live with these people so fast? When is the fucking time for you to admit how wrong it was for you to force me to call the people here my mom and dad my whole life when they aren’t?” Her voice cracks near the end.

You glance at Mr. & Mrs. Gojo, who both look shocked, hurt, even embarrassed as they gaze down at their food. Your heart stalls in your chest for them.

When you glance back at Gojo, you see that his gaze is hardened even further now. “You’re being rude,” he says, in as steady of a voice as he can manage from the way his brow is creased with disappointment. 

“Yeah, whatever,” Sana says as she wipes at the tears with her sleeves, and you notice that she looks young like this. Younger than the usual prim and proper self that she portrays. Too young to be a mom, too young to be a wife, too young to be an adult. Like someone propelled into a life that she never wanted. “That’s always what you say, isn’t it? No answers, you just claim that I’m being childish and rude.” Jun tries to reach out to hold her hand but she snatches it away from him. Under her breath she says, “I didn’t want to come here. I should’ve just stayed home.” And with a rough swipe of her sleeve across both of her cheeks, she suddenly storms off somewhere deep into the house. Jun immediately stands up to follow her, leaving the four of you here with stale, cold food.

The timer in the oven goes off, the sound heard in the distance like a lifeline, and Mrs. Gojo immediately stands up. “Ah, must be…the roasted potatoes. I’ll be right back,” she fusses, and you avert your gaze from her face so she doesn’t feel embarrassed over the streak of a tear you saw streaming down her face.

“Let me help you,” Mr. Gojo says in a small sheepish mumble before following his wife into the kitchen.

And then there were two.

You only have a moment to process the dramatic outburst and subsequent fall-through before you turn in your chair to face Gojo, your face narrowing in contempt. You see him running a hand through his hair, entirely ruffling out any sort of neatness he had combed it into earlier, and he undoes the top button of his shirt with an impatient thumb like he was letting go of whatever image he had been trying to keep up for tonight, because after what just happened, there was no use. 

“So when were you going to tell me that they aren’t actually your real parents???” you hiss at him.

He sighs and runs a hand down his face. “They’ve raised us since Sana was just three years old. I didn’t think it mattered.” 

“Okay well if I had known then I wouldn’t have mentioned the ring??? Now everyone’s left the table because of me.”

“It’s not because of you,” he quickly corrects you, “it’s because of years of unnecessary drama of which I’ve still got no fucking clue why it still gets brough up at every. family. dinner. If you didn’t bring it up, then they would’ve figured out a way to bring it up somehow anyways.”

You blink at him, a little taken aback by how dejected he was by this entire conversation.

“Are you going to go check on Sana?” you ask him.

“No,” he says without hesitation, “she’ll calm down soon enough.”

You press your lips into a thin line, contemplating his dismissal, before you let out a huff of disappointment and disapproval. You pull your napkin off of your lap, setting it up on the table, and slip out of your chair to head into the house in the direction you saw Sana storm off into, leaving Gojo to himself at the table.

As you walk down the hallway, all those pictures you saw hung up on the walls, those photos of illusion that painted this pretty picture of a nuclear family fall apart in the narrow space, those firm smiles and hesitant postures making much more sense to you now. They aren’t even his real parents. Baseball and wedding rings. Those details belonged to a life he never intended on sharing with you. 

You walk past the kitchen, stopping briefly just beyond the entrance before backtracking and you find Sana standing near the sink with her arm across her chest as her other hand wipes at her cheeks. The soft sound of a sniffle echoes in the room and you’re surprised to see that Jun left her alone.

Tentatively, you shuffle your feet across the wooden floor. She seems to make note of you in her periphery but refuses to glance up. 

“Hey…” you start when you finally make it to the space in front of her, your hip leaning against the edge of the sink counter in parallel with hers as you face her.

“I—” she starts, shuffling her palms across her cheeks again. “I am so severely embarrassed.”

Your eyes widen slightly at the honesty. “Don’t be. It’s just family.”

“No but that’s the point,” she says through a crack in her voice, “I’m thirty-one, I’m married, I’m a mom, but they’ll always just see me as some immature little brat because I always behave like this.”

You don’t know what to say. You suppose if you were a therapist, or a priest, or a mentor, or a mom yourself, or any other person with an emotional IQ higher than yourself, you would know the right thing to say to her right now. But you don’t. So silence is all that you can offer her, and you hope that it’s enough.

It seems to work in it’s own magical way, as she slowly opens herself up to you within the next passing sixty seconds. A fleeting glance up to your face. The halt of pointless fidgeting with the fabric of her sleeve. The way she stands up straighter, her hip no longer leaning against the kitchen counter, and you find that you mirror the same movement.

She clears her throat, rubbing her nose with the knuckle of her index finger, her eyes no longer glistening with tears but the corners of them look puffy.

You glance down at your feet for a moment before inhaling deep and making eye contact with her. “Hey, listen…” you say, “I’m—…I’m really sorry…about earlier today. For overstepping about the bullying. Juno’s your daughter, and I really shouldn’t have given her advice before at least running it by you beforehand. Especially for something so sensitive.”

The delicate muscles of her brow lift in surprise at your words, lids fluttering slowly as she processes your words, and the wave of melancholy is contagious as it washes through you as well.

“I’m sorry too,” she says, “for how angry I got with you. It’s just—” she hesitates, and you see that semblance of her that you’re more familiar with. Strict, stern, rough around the edges but for a noble reason. “Y’know, with kids…we tend to get overprotective over them.” Her gaze drops to somewhere beneath yourselves as if she suddenly lost confidence in her train of thought. “I’m just trying to do the right thing for her.”

A silence settles between the two of you before you realize you ought to respond to her.

“I get it,” you finally say. “I mean—…I don’t. Because I’m not a mom. But…I’m sure that when I am one some day, I’d understand.”

She finally offers you a smile in return to your words, polite but genuine nonetheless. And a soft remnant sniffle makes her ruffle her nose.

Her expression softens, and she stares straight ahead to your collarbone rather than your eyes. “She really likes you, you know?” Sana glances up at you now. “Hasn’t stopped talking about your ‘blubbery’ pancakes since last week.”

“Aww.”

There’s a sad glint in her eyes when she turns her torso away from you slightly in resignation before some hint of optimism flashes by in her face and she turns to you again.

“Do you…think you could give me the recipe?”

You want to ask her if everything is okay. But instead, you say, “sure.”

The sound of footsteps approaching is heard near the kitchen entrance and the two of you glance in that direction to see Jun walking in. He offers you a fleeting glance before taking his place beside Sana, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling him towards her before placing a kiss on her temple and saying, “hey honey.” 

You watch as she averts her gaze down to the tips of her toes.

“Feeling better?” he asks her but there’s this lack of warmth you cannot quite discern.

“Yes,” she responds, scratching at her cheek as a discreet way of getting rid of the last remaining wetness that had streamed down her face earlier.

He rubs her arm soothingly and then looks at you with a smile pressed into a firm line. “Doing alright?”

You blink at him. “Wh—…yes.”

“Say, y/n, how’s your mom doing by the way?” he asks.

“She’s…better. She’s in hospice now.”

“Palliative?”

“Well—” you say, “I guess. It’s just temporary.”

He shuffles inside the pocket of his coat and takes out something. A small card with finely printed black ink on it. He hands it to you.

“I can’t imagine how expensive that all must be,” he says, and you glance down at the card.

Carevest Capital est. 2016

Invest in a healthier you!

You glance up at Jun. Sana’s gaze has now shifted to the inside of the sink.

“I started this business,” he says, “where we’re revolutionizing the way healthcare costs are managed. In our platform, we basically invest our clients’ money into the stock market, leveraging our high-reward algorithm to maximize returns. But here’s the unique part: we partner with leading healthcare CEOs who match a portion of the profits as an incentive for stock purchases. Together, these funds go directly toward paying off hospital bills and easing related financial burdens.”

Your eyes widen at his words. The speech was practiced, one you can only assume he has pitched to many potential clientele. But there’s a hint of personable grace to it as well.

“I’m telling you, y/n, we’ve had clients who have overcome six figures of medical debt in just six months,” he says, “and you’ll only need a couple thousand dollars to start yourself up.”

You purse your lips together, your finger pinching the corner of the card. “That’s amazing, Jun.”

He smiles at you, releasing Sana’s waist. “Sorry if this kinda came out of nowhere, but I heard through the grapevine that things have been rough.”

Oh, like how your card has declined publicly at the grocery store multiple times, or how you haven’t been able to afford your insurance deductible to get that chipped off part of your bumper fixed, or the fact you haven’t paid your landscapers in over three months so your lawn now looks like a swamp? It was a small town. And people’s finances were always a topic of interest for most.

“I just wanted to offer any help I can,” Jun says.

“Thanks,” you say, returning his smile, “I’ll, um, I’ll look into it.” You push the card into your pocket.

He offers you that same firm smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes before he pulls Sana to him again, placing another kiss along her hairline and the PDA seems like overcompensation on some front from the way Sana is entirely frigid to his touch. 

Maybe it was a woman’s intuition,

But you felt like something was wrong.

“Kids,” you hear Mr. Gojo’s crackly voice say as he stands leaning against the doorframe near the kitchen entrance, “let’s finish dinner?”

The three of you exchange glances before nodding and heading back towards the hall.

Your peach cobbler was apparently very good, the only thing that seemed to cut through the tension of the night. But that was the thing with family, right? You can yell and scream and cry and lecture and mope and roll your eyes at each other all you want but at the end of the day, they’re still family. Sana still seems slightly dejected though, and you can see Gojo in the corner of your eye at the table glancing up at her every other minute or so. His own way of making sure she’s doing okay, you think to yourself. Sana refuses to meet anyone’s line of sight except yours, however, which makes you feel some slight burdensome responsibility of sisterhood you had never signed up for. Nonetheless, you try to offer her a soothing smile whenever she looks up at you, and it seems to put her at ease.

The news of Sana and Jun moving seemed slightly anticlimactic, as Mrs. Gojo mentioned that they had already had an inkling that Jun and Sana would be moving closer to the city. You briefly wonder if Mrs. Gojo knew all along, but decided to make the announcement into some big affair just so that she could see her niece and nephew over a meal.

You make no more embarrassing comments. Conversation dulls into anything and everything unpersonal to you all, such as the news and weather and gossip of other people. And somewhere along the night, you relax your knee, the ball of it pressing into Gojo’s thigh underneath the table. It was wordless, innocent contact that occurs when two people become more comfortable with one another. Only excusable due to the slight buzz you felt in your veins from the wine. He’s kissed you before, yet somehow the press of his thigh against yours feels even more searing. There’s a point along the night where you tip your head to the right slightly, daringly close to resting your head on his shoulder due to the tipsy dizziness weighing in your head, and it would certainly put on a convincing show of newlywed affection for his aunt and uncle, but you manage to catch yourself. And subsequently refuse any more glasses of wine.

“Thanks for having me,” you say to Mrs. Gojo at the front entrance before she pulls you in for a hug.

“Oh, anytime dear,” she says as she gently pats your back, “please.”

When she pulls away from the hug, she holds you by your shoulders before her eyes glance down towards your left hand and the shimmering diamond that sat on the ring finger. She holds your hand in hers and lifts it to examine the twinkle underneath the lights of the chandelier.

“It really is a pretty ring,” she says, her eyes glossing over. “It looked beautiful on my sister, and it looks beautiful on you too.”

Your breath hitches slightly in your throat. “Thank you, Mrs. Gojo.”

“Please,” she says in response to the title, “Sumiko is fine.” But in less of a way in which she’s relaxing formalities, but rather in a way that acknowledges she never had the sovereignty to be called that in the first place.

You hear masculine voices approaching down the hallway as the three men make their way towards the front entrance as well. Gojo glances at you in the midst of their conversation, and he leaves the two of them to make his way over to you.

“Alright,” Gojo says, turning to face the rest of them as he stands beside you. “We’ll head out now.”

Sumiko pulls him in for a hug, then his uncle, and then obnoxiously by Jun as well. Sana fidgets with her fingers as she remains at the end of the line, and you catch a glimpse of surprise on her face when Gojo pulls her in for a hug too. You see him whisper something to her, and it’s only after she hears what he said that she returns the hug and wraps her arms around him as well.

You’re jolted out of your people-watching trance when Gojo walks up to you and takes your hand in his, shoving his other in his pocket. You glance down at the sight, the way his large hand engulfs your own. It’s warm in a firm hold, delicately squeezing your hand once right before you feel the cold air behind you when his uncle opens the door.

Well, you survived. That’s what you think to yourself as you sit in the passenger seat of Gojo’s car, watching the city lights twinkle as you two drive by. You don’t know what you were expecting. Drama? Ease? Tension? For a piece of the sky to fall and land on the roof? There was a part of you that wanted to impress. You want to be one of those daughter-in-laws that the in-laws just adore. You know, where they’re like, god am I so happy that she’s a part of the family now! The one that the mother-in-law is just so ecstatic to know that her son managed to hold down such a catch.

But any expectations and pressure dissolve with the reminder that this is all fake. Fake, fake, fake. And you’d do really well to remind yourself of that reality whenever you spent time with Gojo. Whenever you find yourself acclimating into his life for even a moment, just remember that it’s fake. Can you have a little fun here and there? Sure. Will you probably find yourself in even stranger situations going forward? Yes, because, well, that’s how life is. But it’s just fake. No obligations, no responsibility, nothing. Nada. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

But as you walk through the front door, staring straight ahead into the dark house at Gojo’s back as he sets down the keys by the foyer table, and even as you follow him further into the house towards the kitchen, that feeling inside you surges. 

A woman's intuition.

That something between Jun and Sana was wrong.

Not just routine marital issues,

Or the occasional argument,

Something worse. Something dangerous.

And it’s not something you would ever expect a man to pick up on, even Gojo.

Because it was from the way Sana’s eyes silently communicated with you from across the table,

Something so subtle, a silent plea across a shared dimension,

That she needed help.

“Hey…” you speak up softly, standing in front of the fridge. 

Gojo glances over his shoulder at you from the other side of the kitchen island, barely illuminated by the moonlight through the windows. He turns to face you. “What’s up?”

You blink at him. 

“Um, I really don’t want to overstep again, but—”

There’s a sobering thought that flashes through your mind when you recall that you have never seen yourself as the hero in anyone’s story.

Simply because you could never, ever, ever trust yourself.

You could never trust your feelings or your decisions.

Because you cosigned on hundreds of thousands of dollars of medical loans. Because you stuck around for five years with a man that didn’t love you anymore. Because you still feel naive enough to believe that your best friend who betrayed you still misses you somehow. Because you still foolishly believe your mother will be around to hold her grandchildren someday.

Because you thought that your best bet in order to pull yourself out of hell was to fake marry a man,

And then act as if it’s all real when his aunt looks you in the eye with bittersweet tears as you now wear her bereaved sister’s ring in honor, entirely unaware it was actually being worn in vain.

How could you ever trust your judgement when you behave this way? 

Never the hero. If anything, the villain.

“What is it?” Gojo repeats when he sees that you’ve been silent for too long. He tilts his head at you, his hair falling over his forehead haphazardly and he runs a hand through it to try to get it out of his face. Even in the dim light, his eyes shine a breathtaking blue.

You swallow hard.

“Um,” you say, and then glance down at the wetness you find at your heel. “The, um, the fridge is leaking again.”

He blinks at you for a solid ten seconds, and then the tension in his shoulders drops when he sulks and closes his eyes with exhaustion and defeat.

“Fuck. Okay.”

.

.

.

[end of chapter 5]

a/n. looool i really keep thinking i can post shorter chapters and them bam they be 10k+ words. but i swearrr it's just cuz i be yapping :(( anywho hope you enjoyed this chapter!! a lot of characters were kinda introduced and mm given a bit more depth in this chapter. sorry there wasn't as much romance or anything in this one though haha there will be more in the next one :0 big big thank you to my lovely ihm beta readers ayelin, jules, leni & mirl for helping me out w this chapter!! i believe i may have mentioned this before but i STRUGGLLEEEE with multi-character scenes (i'm much more comfy writing scenes that just have back n forth between two characters) so this chapter was challenginggg esp the whole dinner sequences and there were also a lot of complicated feelings at play, descriptions, stuff i wasn't sure if it was coming off the right way (and tbh am still not sure haha) but they really helped me work my thoughts out n gave wonderful suggestions too so tysm :'') much loveee!! hope to see you all in the next one <3 - ellie

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[eyecan02]

WARNING: MAJOR BEETLEBABES SPOILERS

I had fun watching this film. It was great seeing the OGs again, it was funny and it had a good script BUT I have to give this movie 7/10 because the pacing was off for the first half of the film and because of the two unnecessary Babyjuice scenes (We'll get to more of that in a bit.)

It just felt rushed and Beetlejuice and Lydia's scenes were limited. Yes, we knew from the get go that Keaton's scenes would be confined because that's how he wanted it but I just like complaining. lol

Before Lydia and Beetlejuice officially reunite, he starts spamming her phone with the Day O song playing with Beetlejuice's name in bold pops ups coming up nonstop. This happens when Rory is trying to talk about their wedding and Lydia just isn't in the mood to talk about it.

The first Beetlebabes scene is the "therapy scene" and its also the first Babyjuice scene. Lydia's belly grows quickly, her water breaks and out pops out Babyjuice. It starts crawling around and soon starts biting on Lydia's ankle. You do actually see bloody teethmarks on Lydia's ankle to which Beetlejuice says, "Takes after his dad." and he starts drooling exaggeratingly.

I don't remember the exact wording but Lydia called Beetlejuice "Demented." To which Beetlejuice replies with something like "Well, if me wanting to be with the love of my life is demented then fine I'm demented. Come here, honey." Yes, he actually calls her the love of his life!

He tries to do the gliding thing he did with Lydia during the first movie when he says this. Before Lydia is pulled to his side, she yells, "Home! Home! Home!"

That's when Lydia tries to hurry to get everyone out of the house and out of Winter River but Astrid tells her she has a date and somehow convinces Lydia to drive her to the boy's house. So Delia and Lydia board up the attic door and decide no one goes in and that they'll leave that same night right after Lydia gets married at midnight.

Now as most of us have heard- Astrid's crush has a secret. That secret is...that he's a ghost. Which, I feel so dumb about not guessing it. I should've figured it out when they showed "The Recently Deceased" book thar he claimed he bought at a "yard sale". The boy (can't remember his name) says Lydia can help him come back to life (not through marriage) and says if she travels with him to the Neitherworld, she'll help her see her dad again.

Lydia soon finds out that the boy (I think his name was Jeremy) was not only someone who killed his parents but is also a ghost (through info from Jane the realtor) so she rushes to rescue Astrid but gets there seconds too late. With no other choice she goes back to the Maitlands home and summons Beetlejuice.

The minute Beetlejuice gets Lydia into the afterlife...they're immediately separated right after the "Bonnie and Clyde line. The excuse? Beetlejuice had to "visit the little boy's room" as a plot device so that Lydia and Astrid could reunite with Astrid's deceased father. He's the one that saves them from the sandworm and helps them make up.

It turns out that Jeremy was gonna swap places with Astrid. She would've gone on the Soul Train that takes you to the "Great Beyond" and he would've resurrected as a living person. This takes place at an immigration office. Beetlejuice has kind of a heroic moment where he switched places with the person behind the glass that gives the "stamp of living approval."

When Jeremy looks at the paper that Beetlejuice gives him, it reads "Shit Out of Luck Fucker". XD This part had everyone howling with laughter. Beetlejuice stamps on the paper and that instantly opens the floor beneath Jeremy and sends him to hell.

Astrid's father helped Lydia and Astrid leave the Neitherworld through a portal in a mausoleum that is conveniantlly across from the church that Lydia is supposed to getting married at. Even though she doesn't really want to marry Rory, she decides to do it anyway. Tells Rory she won't change into her wedding dress- that they should just proceed as they are.

That's when Beetlejuice arrives with Delia, pushes her aside and tells her to "Scram!" lol (Earlier in the film, Delia tried to perform a strange love ritual with a pair of snakes that she was told were defanged. Spoiler: they weren't defanged so she died and got sent to the Waiting Room so since she doesn't want to wait there for ages, she summons Beetlejuice who agrees to help her if he can help her find his "runaway bride".)

Beetlejuice proceeds to drug Rory by stabbing his neck with a syringe and this somehow makes Rory confess whata scumbag he is and how he was just using Lydia for money. Another interesting moment where Beetlejuice is being "helpful" in his own way."

So the next five minutes are just as chaotic as Jenna Ortega described. And remember how we all had speculated that Beetlejuice wouldn't waste time with a song and dance and would try to get through the vows as fast as he could? We were wrong. Beetlejuice apparently thought he had all the time in the world as he starts to lip sync "MacArthur Park" and even had Lydia lip syncing the song to him. His make up got all runny as he wept at his own wedding.

They dance and then Wolf and his SWAT team crash the wedding followed by Delores storming in and Beetlejuice tells her, "It's not you. It's me. I'm just looking for a more soul mate type. You should be with a guy that is more into you."

He magically rips off Rory's shirt to reveal a shirt underneath that says "I Love Delores". Delores is not impressed. And I honestly forgot what happens to Delores but then the Sandworm scene happens and then everything calms down. Lydia, Astrid and Delia try to leave the church but Beetlejuice stops them, reminding Lydia that they have a contract. He pulls out the contract.

But then Astrid remembers something Wolf had mentioned earlier about Beetlejuice violating "Code 669" by bringing a living person to the Neitherword so she states that that means his contract with Lydia is null and void. Beetlejuice's contract proceeds to burst into flame.

Lydia steps forward and says "I'm sorry it didn't work out between us." She says something else that I forgot and proceeds to say his name three times and with each call of his name, Beetlejuice's body inflates more and more until he pops.

Delia promises she'll haunt Lydia and Astrid until they're sick of her. Wolf takes her back to the Neitherworld where Delia reunites with Charles's mangled corpse. It then skips to Lydia announcing the last episode of her show so that she can "start living".

Then it shows Lydia and Astrid traveling together. It looks like they're in Romania/Transylvania where Astrid locks eyes with a cute guy. Then a time skip where Astrid is marrying the guy. Another time skip where Astrid is giving birth. This is where it gets weird. She gives birth to Babyjuice that proceeds to start crawling on the walls. That's when Lydia wakes up, relieved that that was a nightmare when suddenly Beetlejuice leans over her in bed and says, "I just had the strangest dream." Lydia gasps and she wakes up again and slowly looks over to her left to see an empty space and no Beetlejuice.

So I'm guessing that's what that one interviewer guy meant when he told Winona "You sorta got your wish at the end." I guess it means Beetlejuice will always be haunting her and playing the long game of waiting for her. I need to discuss this with someone! What do you think of the spoilers? The ending in particular?

[lovebugism]

“Remind me why I can’t kill the carolers?” with a grumpy scrooge eddie!! maybe he and reader move into a new neighborhood with friendly neighbors who go all out for christmas and are always caroling? i can’t imagine the people of hawkins showing up at his door lol

ty for requesting :D — the metalhead freak gets stuck with a bunch of carolers and runs to his girl for comfort (established relationship, fluff, eddie "loves being babied" munson, 1.2k)

blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

Eddie moves to the nice side of Hawkins with you. Not the suburbs, exactly, but pretty damn close. 

It’s a house with stairs and a sliding back door, both of which only existed in movies for a kid who grew up in a trailer park. The backyard is fenced in, too — big enough for a dog. A couple of them, even. And maybe a pool if his music career takes off. The realtor also told you that the school district is “to die for,” and even though that’s not really an issue right now, Eddie figures it’ll be important sometime soon.

These are all things you’re supposed to care about when you’re settling down with someone you can see a future with. Eddie thinks so, at least. He can see himself getting old with you, in this house and on that front porch. He’ll be holding your hand on your afternoon walks until both of yours are spotted and wrinkly.

The only bad thing about life (halfway) in the suburbs is running into all the assholes he used to know in high school. Vicki Carmichael was walking her too-expensive dog yesterday morning, and the afternoon before that, Tina Burton had the whole cul-de-sac down the street shut down for her kid’s first birthday party. What the hell is a one-year-old even supposed to do with a bouncy house?

It’s totally trippy. 

But Eddie’s been able to avoid them well enough. Or maybe everyone else is avoiding him. Either way, he’s grateful.

“No— where are you going?” you whine as Eddie slides open the glass door of the shower. You’re still getting used to being able to do this with him now that you’ve moved into the new place. The bathroom back at the trailer was barely big enough for one person, let alone two.

“I’m already done, and you’ve barely even started,” he answers, laughing at the dramatic desperation in your voice. 

He steps onto the plush mat outside the tub and wraps a towel around his tattooed hips. Steam flows out, and the outside cold swoops in. It pricks your skin and makes you shiver. You duck under the faucet for warmth until he closes the door behind him.

“You’re gonna be in here forever, and I’m gonna get all pruney,” Eddie insists, right before shaking out his damp curls like a wet dog.

“You usually like it when I take my time,” you joke, laughing when it makes him silent.

Eddie’s brain gets all foggy at your words. Worse than the heavy steam filling up the bathroom. He’s contemplating whether or not to jump back into the shower with you — and really let you “take your time” — but a knock on the door throws a wrench in his plans.

“Can you get the door for me, honey?” you ask just to tease him, ‘cause you know he’s milliseconds away from pressing you against the shower wall.

He listens to you, because he always listens to you, and then ultimately decides he never will again.

Eddie leaves the warmth of the bathroom, shoves on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt that do little to protect him from the bitter cold outside, and finds a number of familiar faces standing on his porch. 

It’s an entire crowd of people who used to bully him in high school — plus a bunch of snotty private school kids — all dressed up in the most horrendous, white-bread Christmas outfits the world has ever seen.

“Oh, shit…” Eddie mumbles under his breath, the evidence of his words leaving in a thin white cloud. He hadn’t even meant to say them out loud. They just sorta spilled out in the moment. Honestly, he thinks he might be dreaming.

The town’s resident metalhead is forced to sit through a botched rendition of Deck the Halls and Holy Night. And since you’re still in the shower, you can’t even swoop in to save him from it all. He just suffers through the half-out-of-tune caroling while his drying hair frizzes, a wavering smile of confusion stagnant on his face. 

When they’re finally gone, Eddie shuts the door with a chest-deflating sigh. He isn’t totally sure he’s taken a single breath since he opened the damn thing.

“Who was that?” you call from the top of the stairs, a fuzzy towel clutched to your chest. The warm scent of your body wash flows from the opened bathroom door and down the steps.

Eddie turns to look up at you from the bottom of them. He feels so suddenly drained. Like he just ran a marathon or pulled an all-nighter — something utterly exhausting that’s taken a piece of his soul. Maybe it’s dramatic, but he feels a little like his suffering has stripped ten years off his life.

“Remind me again why we can’t kill the carolers?” he jokes as he trudges up the stairs, the railing of them lined with glowing garlands.

“Those were carolers?” you gape, eyes wide and brows raised to your hairline.

Answering the door isn’t really Eddie’s thing. Conversations with strangers at the door aren’t really his thing, either. You think he might’ve just lived through one of his greatest fears.

“Yeah,” he scoffs, laughing through an exhausted sigh. He walks to your shared bedroom and flops on the center of the bed. A heavy sigh falls from his lips like he just got done working a twelve-hour shift. 

You’d laugh at his dramatics if you thought they were anything but totally real. So instead, you sit gingerly beside him, careful to keep your towel from falling, and try to comfort him without giggling.

“Shit, babe. I’m sorry,” you mutter, rubbing a palm up and down the length of his back. You’re grateful he can’t see your smile from this angle, lest he think you aren’t taking this seriously.

“Oh, don’t be,” he tells you, muffled into his pillow. Sarcasm drips from his honeyed lips like venom. “It was tons of fun seeing Jason fucking Carver on our doorstep.”

“Jason was out there?” you gape, a little louder than you mean to. Your shock is palpable.

Eddie huffs and turns onto his back. “Yeah— did you know he has a kid now?”

“What?”

“Uh-huh,” he nods with a small smirk. The life returns to the chocolate of his eyes now that he can gossip. “She was a really cute baby, you know, considering. The odds weren’t really in her favor there.”

You tilt your cheek to your shoulder and cup his jaw with a warm hand. Your thumb rubs gently over the flushed apple of it, tinted cold from the outside weather. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to save you,” you tell him, half playful but with a sincere glimmer in your eye.

“No, it’s okay,” he says with a shake of his head. “I’m glad you weren’t there to see that.”

You can’t tell if Eddie knows you’re teasing him or not. Or if he’s joking about the whole thing ‘cause it’s over now. Your boy’s too hard to read for his own good. You decide to keep pitying him anyway. His love language is basically being babied.

“Want me to make you some hot chocolate?”

He nods, a small pout jutting out his rosy lips. “With the mini marshmallows, please?” he mumbles.

You bend at the waist to plant a kiss on his forehead. “Whatever you want, babe,” you promise in a gentle murmur.

[johnnyutah]

average adam faulkner stanheight fan: if adam isn’t in saw xi we riot! @lionsgate @kevingruetert @jameswan #adamlives #justiceforadam #corpseinconsistencies

average john kramer fan: What people don’t realize about John, is he’s such a genius that even when he makes mistakes, he planned on making the mistakes. He is the greatest villain of all time

average jill tuck fan: Appreciation post for the Women of Saw 🩷 [the same ten photos that get posted once a week]

average lawrence gordon fan: last night i watched a 2004 tv movie about serial killers called ‘the riverman’, followed by the cheesy family rom-com ‘a castle for christmas’. today my friends and i are going to binge the entire third season of netflix’s ‘stranger things’. none of us have seen a single episode of the rest of the show and we don’t plan on it. then we might rewatch ‘another country’ together

average amanda young fan: sorry i haven’t been online in 4 weeks i’ve been too busy trying to get the new pig cosmetic in the rift [posted 7 weeks ago]

average mark hoffman fan: [underneath a gifset of costas mandylor in a republican christian propaganda ‘sci-fi’ movie] #hes so fucking hot #i would give anything to put him in a sports bra and make him do jumping jacks in front pf me i would literally do #ANYTHING #i need to make him into a marionett and fist him lol

average daniel rigg fan: Here’s a quick low effort doodle I did of Daniel! I just love him so much ❤️ [a literal masterpiece, the best art you’ve ever seen in your entire life] [3 notes]

average allison kerry fan: i am hardcore attached to ONE ship which is probably either allison/amanda or allison/lindsey and my whole blog is devoted to them. there are dozens of us DOZENS

average lynn denlon fan: okay so i know bahar is a realtor now but in her last instagram post where she’s congratulating her son on some new achievement, both the first and last words in the post have 11 letters, AND there’s an X and an I visible in the background of her post 👀?? is this a reach???

average jeff denlon fan: No seriously let me finish seriously when you compare him to the other shitty men in Saw he’s NOT that b

average david tapp fan: i’m 39k away from publishing my 40k tappsing Everybody Lives AU <3 this is going to be epic [account has been deactivated for an indeterminate amount of time]

average brit stevenson and mallick scott fan: Hey I stayed up making this instead of writing my thesis paper for grad school. Here’s a 30,000 word document about the implications of Brit’s promotion within the Marshford group and how it would lead to her eventual demise and also how she rose to the top in her group. It also delves into her relationship with Mallick, whose existence, I believe, is an obvious literary reference to an ancient Roman play read by only me and three other people currently alive. I translated relevant passages and included them in my work. I got understimulated around page 8 so I did take a break to pierce myself in the same spot that I believe Mallick would have a piercing. If you read my fics on AO3 you will already be familiar with the location.

average peter strahm fan: haha peter does CRACK cocoaine haha i think he sniffeds some drugs! why else would he be so MANIC HYPER CRAZY!!! i love my crazy JUNKIE man LOL get him some andderall STAT!! if hoffman didn’t kill him the SPEED certianly would of! LOL!

average lindsey perez fan: i love lindsey perez i’m such a big fan of the character lindsey perez

average matt gibson fan: i literally would eat garbage out of a dumpster

average ezekiel banks fan: holy shit i just finished spiral what a good movie what the hell!!! what a cool addition to the saw universe! i bet everybody else loves this as much as i do! let me take a big drink of water as i check tumblr dot com to see all the nice things people will have to say about darren lynn bousman’s Spiral

average william schenk fan: my hobbies include: being a fujoshi,

average cecelia pederson fan: [pic of cecelia yanking on the metal loop around her neck and smirking] https://docs.google.com/document/d/e/2PACX-1vT3f5IIzt5PG-M7G9_Z-gjY4gZaiUneTdMlYrFAcdBGcJo0-N-RDQcj2JfxOaBTxKa6J_DiDQNgqVpg/pub

average logan jigsaw fan: What people don’t realize about John, is he’s such a genius that even when he makes mistakes, he planned on making the mistakes. He is the greatest villain of all time

[hipsternumbertwo]

Favorite Angela Moments 45/∞: Mamma Mia But Different (A Donna Line)

Patrick making Angela go out in a gold sparkly fabric (?) and a hat to hide her costume in the intro

A Donna Line is an homage to A Chorus Line

Having Josh and Austin in the band makes that FIVE StarKid members in this show.

Mamma Mia as opening number

Shoutout to Jon, Kimia (the producer?) , and Emily (the director) being on stage almost the entire time

Jon's dance choreographer (?) character just saying dance moves for the cast to do and then joining in in the end (too little Jon in this IMO)

Vic as Carol - a mechanic?realtor?actress? idk she was crazy

Mary Lou as Evelyn - the sexy one that will do anything to be on the show

Madison as Linda - she has volume control issues

Gabe as Ophelia - the poisoner

Angela as Helen. Mirren. - a relatively unknown actress. A Dame and BAFTA winner (but no one cares)

Mariah as Meryl Streep - she needs a job

They are all auditioning for the role of Donna

Meryl and Helen have history

Evelyn (ML) sings When I Kissed the Teacher (crawled on the table, kissed Angela on the cheek, and accidentally touch Vic's boobs lol)

Carol (VIC) have some weird stories but have no passport to go to Greece so she's out of the running and sings Take A Chance On Me while beating the guard up, running through the audience, and DOING A FREAKING FLIP

Ophelia (GABE) tried to poison Meryl but ends up being poisoned instead then sings SOS before passing

Linda (MADISON) was the abandoned secret child of ABBA members singing the most shocking, chaotic, and hilarious version of Chiquitita I've ever heard, complete with ribbon dancing

The Meryl-Helen rivalry backstory finally revealed: they were competitive tap dancers earlier in their carreers, with a very dangerous move that if done wrong will end someone's dancing career. Helen thought Meryl sabotaged her and challenged Meryl to a tap dance competition

They got a real tap dancer as Meryl's double (Mariah can't tap dance?) Angela did her own (I don't know tap but it looks decent when she wasn't deliberately doing a bad job PLUS her mic pack got loose so she was trying to hold it inside her pant leg while dancing) while ML sings Dancing Queen and injured herself doing the move

Helen (ANGELA) gives up and told Meryl (MARIAH) she has the role while singing the duet Winner Takes It All (harmony for dayssssss) with Ang switching between singing great during the harmonies then having an accent when doing her solo

Now we get to "present time" as Meryl becomes Donna and sings Thank You For The Music while doing dance moves seen in the movie. Also serves as the finale number with the whole cast.

They said they will perform this again in the new year maybe because the writer of this MMBD Alden was sick during this night and he was supposed to play Ophelia

[bronx-bomber87]

Happy Saturday wonderful fandom :) Ahhh the next in the line of goodies to come. This one doesn’t have a ton for them but doesn’t mean there isn’t absolute gems in it. So it'll be a littler shorter than the last one ha Also Aaron is amazingly hilarious in this episode. I love him to death. Let us get started.

5x09 Take Back

We start off with Tim being Watch Commander while Grey is miserable in NYC ha Things get immediately awkward when Chris arrives. Still clueless as ever asking Tim of all people about Lucy’s taste in houses. I mean if you don’t know her taste at this point should you really be buying a house together? Tim looks intrigued when he says he needs his opinion then it gets so awkward when it's about a house...

Tim is so very uncomfortable when he asks his opinion. Knowing this is going NOWHERE for Chris. I’ll never forget this hilarious post I saw about this scene after it premiered. I couldn't find it this time around. Had the lyrics from anti-hero by Taylor swift. ‘It’s me. Hi. I’m the problem it’s me.’ You ain’t ever getting that house with her because of that man sitting there LOL Idk why that post made me laugh so hard but it did. It stuck with me clearly haha

It’s so very weird Chris comes to Tim for this. It's obvious he knows Tim knows her the best. Crazy to me he's not threatened at all by that fact. Clearly he isn’t if he’s coming to Tim for advice. Blows my mind how blind he is. Lucy comes in asking what they’re talking about? Chris tells her he found THE house. Lucy looking as uncomfortable as ever at this news. Saying he's going to call the realtor and call her later. Lucy's high pitched 'I can't wait...' Couldn't be more awkward if she tried.

He gives her a kiss on the cheek and leaves. Tim giving that good ole fake Sanford smile when he does. Tim's face crack me up. Like he stole your girl and you have no idea you putz heh Also just so on brand for Chris to not see how uncomfortable Lucy was. He’s been blind their entire relationship It’s unreal. You can also see how much Tim hates seeing him kiss her. Even if it’s on the cheek.

It’s almost a grimace really as he watches it. Probably thinking of all the ways he could easily kick his scrawny ass haha That fake smile begging for Chris to leave the room so this awkwardness can pass. How Chris doesn’t pick up on either of these vibes I don't know. But then we call him the clueless clown for a reason don’t we?

Lucy doesn’t look comfortable till Chris leaves the office. Tim asking 'How the breakup is going?' HA Cleary it's going well Timothy...Lucy tells him she’s in the planning stages. Just reviewing the literature. Classic Lucy response. Wanting to plan this out completely before pursuing it. Tim telling her a psychology journal isn’t going to tell her how to break up with Chris. I mean he's not wrong.... It's just a bandaid you have to rip off even if its uncomfortable as hell.

He’s so matter of fact with his wording. Using a sports metaphor to explain how she should do it. Makes me wonder if he's actually done this before? Ha She’s adorable in her reply of saying ‘Playbill?’ She truly has no idea what he’s talking about. It’s too funny. It's comical really Tim giving her advice on how to break up with Chris. So you know he can date her haha

Tim has been very patient in all this but you can see him getting a little antsy about it. It is interesting how full circle this moment is. He set them up in 4x12 and now he’s ready to help break them down in this 5x09. Tim is just so ready for Lucy to do this cause he’s anxiously waiting to be with her. It’s pretty damn cute if you ask me. He’s trying to be patient but also is like can we hurry this along a bit?

Lucy says that’s too cruel she wants to handle it her way. No matter how this goes down Chris is going to be hurt though. It's how breakups go there is alway someone who walks away more upset about it. Her empathy taking the front seat in this decision. Where Tim just wants her to rip the bandaid off. Get this over with ASAP.

This is where we see little bit of Tim’s self doubt kick in. It's written all over his face when he asks her if she's having doubts? Worried she’s delaying this because she is having second thoughts about him. About them. Lucy immediately squashes his anxiety with her reply. Shooting massive heart eyes his way as well. She wants Tim to know she’s all in just like he is. That there is nothing for him to worry about.

I love how sure Lucy looks when she tells him 'No, I'm not'. She is so certain this is what she wants. Needs him to know this as well. Not a doubt in her mind about this whole thing. She just has stuff to work out with this breakup first. The certainty in her eyes is everything. Nothing makes more sense to her in this moment than him.

That confidence of hers is why Tim relaxes the way he does above. His whole body draining of the tension he was carrying. His cute smile saying ‘Good.’ Could this man be more of a soft puppy for her? Look at him. That hope and excitement back in his eyes. Lucy replying in kind with her own 'In love 'gaze. They’re both all in and it makes my heart very happy. Also they’re having a full on flirt session in Grey’s office for everyone to see.

I adore Tim being so open and vulnerable in this scene. Making sure she wasn’t backing out. The same Tim who couldn’t communicate in his other relationships to save his life. But with this he is checking in with her. Letting Lucy know his stress about her not breaking up with Chris yet. Lucy assuages his worries instantly. When it’s the right one the harder stuff seems a little easier. More natural. Lucy sensed that panic and instantly calms him with her words and heart eyes. Gah so good. Look at these idiots in love. I just adore them so very much.

This next scene with Aaron is pure gold. I love him so much he cracks me up. Never expected him to be as funny as he is. He notes how quiet she is being and is asking what's going on? Lucy letting him know she needs to break up with Chris. First off like to say we are all Aaron when he says ‘Finally.’ To her breaking up with Chris. Yesssss and Hallelujah finally breaking up with the clown. Nails it even further when he says Chris was never on her level. I mean yeah he never was. Not ever.

Aaron is speaking for the whole Chenford fandom in this moment LOL Chris had nine lives with her and they've finally run out. Aaron's reaction is the best part of this scene. I love that he knew where Lucy's heart was and it obviously wasn't with Chris. He knows it’s with Tim 100 percent. Like most people in their world do. Tim is her equal in so many ways it’s insane. Chris could never compare as Lucy figured out last ep.

Aaron tells her they can practice her breaking up with him. So it’s much easier when the time comes. It’s not a bad idea tbh. This is where it gets hilarious. Lucy brings up them looking at houses. Aaron kinda judging her for letting get as far as looking at houses. Telling her 'Yikes....' HA Tell us how you really feel my man. Lucy reprimanding him saying that is not helpful....Oh Aaron I love you so very much.

Lucy starts her speech trying to find her footing in what she is trying to say. She looks over at Aaron in the middle of it and see he is crying. lol If you didn't laugh at this scene you're dead inside. It's so damn funny. Lucy asking him WTF he is doing? Aaron telling her he is channeling Chris's pain LMFAO I mean he's not wrong she had to be prepared for an emotional response. It's just the way he went about this that is so hysterical. He is having way too much fun with this.

Telling her they should do angry next. I'm rolling. Lucy is doing some channeling of her own. She is channeling her man in this scene. It’s so funny. So aggravated with his role playing in this. Wondering why she asked for his advice in the first place? hahaha They then get a call about a 'Navi'. Lucy is so confused. Aaron geeks out and says it's from Avatar. Tells Lucy she should ask if it’s full grown. The look she gives she is channeling her husband again so much. ‘Aaron, it’s a fictional character...’ LMAO

I really love this ending scene with them. Aaron wants to do one more practice run with her. Lucy tells him she doesn’t need it. (Oh but you do....) That she’s just going to go with her gut on this one. It sounds like a solid idea in the moment but it's honestly the worst thing to wing it. Especially when it's something this intense.

When something is this emotional the right words tend not to just come to you IMO. They sure don't for me. I love him being brutally honest with her about it LOL Saying it’s a terrible idea. That he likes the sentiment but this isn't going to end well. I mean he’s not wrong as we will see here in a bit. Lucy once again channeling Tim in this moment. Cutting him off from saying anything else and just tells him good night haha

We get to the breakup scene we’ve all been waiting for. Lucy is bumbling and awkward. Not knowing where to start. Chris once again blind as a bat. He has no idea why she’s acting this way. Lucy curses Aaron for being right about this moment. Saying she should practiced more LOL I adore her panicking and defaulting to Tim’s playbook advice haha idk what’s funnier that or her being shocked Chris knows what she means by saying that.

All that prep and thinking this out and she went with her man’s advice on how to end this. This makes me giddy to no end. I bet you it’s cause Tim was on her mind from the minute Chris entered the apartment. My guess is that is part of the reason she fell back on his advice. Literally the most Lucy Chen thing ever to use it then be surprised Chris knew what she meant. I love her sfm haha

Chris stumbles around shocked as hell she’s breaking up with him. He seems so very blindsided by the whole thing. I mean if the man opened his eyes for once he wouldn’t be that shocked…But this Chris we are talking about. Lucy tries to get him to talk to her more. Saying they should sit down and talk this out. Chris just bails not wanting to talk at all. Not wanting to fight for her at all. Just takes off like a child who didn't get what he wanted.

Now I’m ok with this. Obviously we all are. Just goes to show you Tim was willing to fight for her and Chris wasn’t in the end. Lucy said it was over and he just left. I mean he wasn’t wrong there isn’t much to talk about out. She doesn’t love him. But still no fight in him at all after Lucy does this. Just folds like a cheap suit. A clueless clown from beginning to end...

We’ve reached the scene of the ep that made us all swoon and squee. I remember feeling so anxious to get to this scene. I had to re-watch the episode to truly appreciate it all. I was too antsy to get back to them sharing a screen. I was so damn giddy this was the place we were in. They spent the majority of this episode apart. So all I could focus on was her coming back to him in this moment.

I adore Lucy coming back into the station to talk about the breakup right away. Needing to share this news with him as soon as she could. I love that she returned to work just to tell him about this. So anxious to get back to Tim after it was done. Lucy wanted him to know as soon as she could it was over with Chris. Knowing he was just as anxious as she was about the breakup. It's sweet how he tentatively approaches her when she says why she is back.

He wants to be understanding about it. Seeing if she wants to talk about it more. Doesn't just want to jump the gun and bulldoze her feelings about the matter. Lucy isn't there to chat about that though. She wants to cash in on him asking her out. Because she couldn’t wait another second without him asking her out again. They're both so damn nervous and sweet in this scene. Fidgety and excited about the prospect of their future. Lucy messing with her hands the entire time as she explains the breakup. Tim keeping his distance while she explains it.

Gah I love her fidgeting near her ring as she approaches Tim. Anxiously awaiting for him to ask her out again. Lucy’s nervous way of reminding him to ask her again like they decided. How she looks into the bullpen before approaching Tim. Saying ‘So…’ He looks nervously excited by her doing this. Eric the king of expressions strikes again. The way his eyes go to check the bullpen as well before refocusing on her. He isn't sure what she is going to do in this moment.

The entire station can see into this office. He looks so friggin cute in his nervousness. I love that that she makes him nervous like this it's so adorable. Lucy gains her confidence and looks him directly in the eye flirty as can be. Asking him if there's something he wants to ask her? The whole purpose of her returning to work is to secure their date. Telling him about the breakup was the catalyst yes. But truly she was wanting to hear him ask her out again.

Tim see's her confidence and starts shaking off his own nerves. Replying in a sassy manner. Their banter the undercurrent of this moment going forward. Fueling them with the courage to say what they want to. Tim can't help being playful and sassy with her replying ‘I can’t remember.’ Doing that cute smirk of his that I love so very much. Wanting to push her buttons a little because well it's Tim.

Lucy is affectionately violent in her reply haha Look at her she is beaming with adoration. She loves this goober in front of her so very much. ‘Don't make me hurt you.’ Because she would legit hurt him if she had to in this moment haha I saw a funny parallel from this to her ripping that tape off in 4x07. She'll do it Timothy LOL Don't test your girl.

I love how he gets serious after she says this. It's the way he slowly moves towards her. That intent look on his face in the first one. *fans self* gah. Then in the second one the way he melts for her. In a way only Lucy gets to see. Asking with as much giddiness and excitement as I ever seen in this man. "Do you wanna go out on a date? Look at this puppy of a man. He is beyond excited to ask her this question again. Knowing now he will get a yes with no stipulations this time around. There is still a little nervous hesitation in his delivery which is precious.

Lucy is bursting at the seams with absolute giddiness when she replies ‘Yeah. I do.’ So happy he's asked her again. How one looks when the man they love asks them out. There’s so much to love about this scene. He’s asking her out in the Watch Commanders office. I love that sfm. Both ecstatic they’re finally going on a date with nothing holding them back now. They’re at work and have to restrain themselves from being too obvious. Which you know they suck at heh

My god anyone looking in on them in that last gif could see how in love these two are. They're so excited just to be around each other right now. The way they’re just standing there looking into each other’s eyes with the dopiest in love smiles. I cannot. I remember thinking the break was gonna take forever to get through. What a time to be alive watching this the first time I remember. LOL

~~~

Side notes -non Chenford

Is it just me or does John have more chemistry with Genny than he does Bailey? Thought I’ve always had from this ep. Probably just me but I always thought they had solid chemistry.

Greys have a ROUGH SL in NYC.

Celina also has a hard time in the ep. With their suspect dying in custody. She has a tough rookie year.

[lodeddiperactivate]

Love me, hate me | Hobie Brown x Reader

Summary: Reader is at her lowest point in life and meets Hobie. Story started at a diner, where the reader started talking about spiders to Hobie. Reader has no idea that Hobie is Spiderpunk (and this story will end with her not knowing) but it gets interesting towards the end. Hope you enjoy xx

Writer's notes: I know that Hobie is British but I also know that he lives in the US so this is set in the US but I wanted to use pubs as a location as well because Idk I just do lol also, Hobie lived in a squatters area but I didn't follow that here (again, for the puroses of this story!).

Warnings: Smut, angst!

Pairings: Hobie Brown x Female Reader

"Did you know that some spiders can turn invisible to escape predators?" You said.

Hobie had looked up from the cup of coffee he was drinking, and landed his eyes on you. You spoke so suddenly that he wasn't sure if you were talking to him. In your defense, you're also not sure if you were talking to him or just simply voicing out your thoughts.

You and Hobie sat on separate booths facing one another. The diner was almost empty except for the waiter at the far end of the room. He was polishing some of the utensils and mumbling something under his breath.

"What?" Hobie said.

You detect a hint of annoyance in his voice. You decided to taunt him a bit.

"I said spiders can change their skin to escape predators."

"So?"

"Yet, Spiderpunk don't have the same ability."

Instead of responding with a witty remark, which was what you were expecting, he simply scoffed and returned to drinking his coffee. You were disappointed.

Life has been pretty disappointing lately to be honest. You recently got laid off at work despite excellent performance ratings, plus you were rejected at your dream school for your chance to pursue a Master's degree, plus your roommate decided to kick you out because she wanted her boyfriend to move in with her, plus you're nowhere near finding a suitable apartment that's well within your budget. So yeah, life has been one disaster after the other and you were craving something different, probably something exciting and dangerous too. Your red flag was that when everything goes to shit, you find ways to attract something worse. Deep down, maybe you loved being in the midst of chaos.

You took a sip of your coffee when you felt a pair of eyes on you. It was Hobie and he was not hiding the fact that he has been staring at you. His brows furrowed as if he was in deep thought.

"What do you want?" You asked him, annoyance evident in your voice.

"It's true, I guess this Spiderpunk dude ain't it."

"Bummer. That would've helped him if he was running away from his millions of fans," you said as you took another sip of your coffee without looking at him.

You expected an arrogant response but Hobie had replied with a heartily laugh, it was boyish, almost in an adorable dorky way how he laughed. Not at all what you would expect from this stranger sitting across from you, at another booth.

"What's your name?" He finally asked you.

"Y/N, you?"

"Well, Y/N, cheers, this has been nice but I have to go."

And with that he left. But just as he was about to walk out the door, he called out, "I'm Hobie."

~

A few days passed after your encounter with the stranger from the diner, and you had not forgotten about his adorable laugh. You sometimes find yourself smiling when you think about it.

"Do you like it?" The realtor asked.

You snapped back to reality and blinked at her. What did she say? She was showing you a small, almost shoebox-like, apartment near the park. The amenities are great, the location is great, but it's not that spacious for the price. You sighed because you had been touring apartments for days now and still no luck. You thanked the realtor and shook her hand as you both went your separate ways.

It was late and you decided to go clear your mind - with alcohol. You wanted to forget about the fact that you only have less than 24 hours to find a new place or you'll be sleeping in a park bench or under a bridge soon.

The nearby pub was packed and everyone was already mid-drunk or fully knocked out. All you wanted to do at that point was to let loose but you need alcohol in your system first and fast! You ordered shots, just to get to that state of mind quickly. Those 3 shots you downed worked like magic and before you know it, you were jumping and swaying your hips to the music.

Mingling with a small crowd, you felt hands all over your body. You didn't know whose hands they were and you did not care. Frankly, it turned you on that you started grinding with the first guy who had his hands on your hips. You feel him move his body closer to yours and in a matter of seconds, you feel him kissing and sucking the nape of your neck.

When you opened your eyes, you noticed from across the room, a familiar face, Hobie's. He had an annoyed look at his face.

You decided to ignore him and turn to face the guy you were dancing with. He was fairly attractive and so you decided to wrap your arms around him to pull him even closer. Both of your lips were inches away from one another and you can smell the whiskey he had been drinking. You leaned in for a kiss when you suddenly felt a hand on your shoulder, yanking you away.

"Sorry man, she's with me," Hobie said as he positioned himself between you and the stranger.

"What are you doing?" You asked. The stranger blinked at Hobie.

"Leave us alone, Hobie." You said, this time with more conviction.

"Yeah buddy, leave us alone. We were having such a good time." The stranger winked at you, which irritated Hobie even more.

"See, I am not your buddy. And if I am being completely honest with you, from where I was sitting, I can confidently say that no one was having a good time especially with your dancing, Sir Lady Hips!" Hobie stepped closer to the stranger and said, "so why don't you do us all a favor and walk away."

After some thought, the stranger said "Okay" and turned to walk away before he turned back once again and tried to land a punch on Hobie's right cheek, which Hobie easily caught. In a matter of seconds, it became a full-on brawl.

To say it was a mess was an understatement. Things were resolved in just under a few minutes with the stranger being accompanied by the pub owner out of the place. You were pretty mad at Hobie as well since 1. He had no right to interfere 2. You were already in the heat of the moment when he took that opportunity away and 3. Who does he think he is? Frustrated and really horny, you decided to pack up and go to a different place when you hear Hobie call out.

He managed to catch up just when you were to turn a corner down the street.

"Oh hey sorry I didn't hear you," you said in the most sarcastic tone you could mutter.

"I sensed that you're not happy that I drove your pretty boyfriend away huh, Y/N."

"Two things. First of all, he's not my boyfriend. He's some random dude that I was planning to fuck because my life is shit. Two, you're right. I am not happy you interfered. Who do you think you are? And I absolutely do not like you."

"That's three things," he grinned.

"Whatever, Hobie. Leave me alone!"

"At least, let me walk you home," Hobie had called out.

"I don't wanna go home because in a few hours, I would already be homeless so why not start now." You shouted back at him. All of the stress had already piled up and you were spewing words of hatred and annoyance towards him even though he had nothing to do with most of the things you said.

There was a moment of silence after you had spilled your guts to Hobie telling him how your life is like for the past few days. You gasped for air because you knew you were on the brink of crying. Hobie stood there for a moment before walking closer and pulling you in for a hug. You immediately gave in to the hug because well, a hug seems nice right now after the day you've had.

"Come with me," he had said as he held out his hand for you to take. You didn't really questioned it but you went along with Hobie as you started to walk to his place.

~

Hobie had guided you to his room which was somewhat neat. Framed photos hung on his wall but a few papers were sprawled on his desk, on the floor, on his bed, beside the window. You walked around his room, taking in every detail and he followed you with his eyes.

"So, did you bring me here to push some propoganda shit?" You said as you noticed "Metaphor for Capitalism" on one of the papers on the floor. Another one that says, "We don't have the power of the state. We don't have the authority on our side, the cops, or the media. What we have are angry hearts."

He didn't reply and only smiled at you. It was genuine and warm, his smile felt comforting despite everything that has happened.

You smiled back before sitting beside him on his bed.

"You can stay for the night if you want."

You looked at him, trying to test how genuine the offer is. When you decided he was serious, you fall back on his bed and let out a sigh. What a day!

You feel the bed shift as you sensed Hobie moving. When you opened your eyes, he was hovering over you, studying your face.

"What is it?" You feel that moment was an intimate moment, and you're not sure what he would say next.

"Why do you know so much about spiders?"

You burst out laughing at his question and noticed the pained expression on his face. You were so taken aback that you cupped his face with both your hand as a means to apologize.

"I don't know. I guess I have a fascination with this Spiderpunk guy."

He then smiled and closed his eyes. He had his eyes closed for some time when you decided to pull him closer. Your hands still cupping his face, you moved to give him a kiss, which he reciprocated and deepen into a full blown making out session.

"Hobie."

"Yeah?"

"I really don't want anyone to be walking in on us."

"Don't worry. It's just us here."

He paused before saying even further, "that is unless you would be too loud."

You felt a shift in his persona right at that very moment. All of his boyish jokes and playfulness gone and replaced by something more mature, something sexual and carnal in nature.

With that, it's like your body had moved to its own accord and had straddled him on his bed. He was still sitting up as his hands found your waist, steadying you as you slowly grind on top of him, feeling him grow by the second. You leaned in for another kiss, and this time, he was sweet. He was not in a hurry. You feel him moan through the kiss as it deepens.

"Someone's a little excited," you said alluding to the fact you can feel him very hard at this point.

"And whose fault is that?"

"Haven't we reached a point where we don't pass the blame to another person?"

"You're right, you're right. My apologies," he said as he flipped you over in one smooth move so that he is hovering over you.

"I guess I should try to make it up to you then," Hobie said as he run his hands up your thighs and gently hike up your skirt so he could feel your wetness soaking through your panties. He moved his thumb in circular motion through the fabric until you let out a moan. He quickly cupped your mouth and signalled you to be quiet. At this point, with your skirt still hiked up to your waist, he removed your panties and tossed them to the floor.

"Look at you, all flustered, and I haven't even pulled out my cock yet," He said looking down on you with a smirk.

"Stop teasing me," was all you could say.

Hobie had unzipped his pants and had his cock in his hand, guiding it towards the entrance of your pussy. You took this time to take off your shirt and his. He leaned in while rubbing the tip on the entrance slowly, up and down, which made you catch your breath.

"Tell me what you want."

"You. In me. Please, Hobie."

In one swift motion, Hobie buried himself in you, and again, it made you yelp and moan. The emptiness in you being filled to the brim. It felt so good and warm, and for a few seconds, there was no movement. Then, Hobie slowly pulled out until only the tip is inside then thrusted in one quick move. He repeated this a few more times to help you get used to his size.

"Fuck, you're big."

Hobie had buried his face at the nape of your neck, and you feel his smirk when you complimented him on the size of his dick.

"Is that so?" Hobie had said and at that moment, he thrusted in you, this time with a bit of force. You had wrapped your legs around him and was already moaning uncontrollably at this point.

"What did I tell you about being quiet?"

"You said no one's here, so what are you worried about?" You retorted.

"Oh I'm not worried. In fact, I want everyone to know how good I'm making you feel," he said as he thrusted in you once again with force. At this point, he was going in and out of you quickly, and you were trying to catch your breath.

"Hobie," you moaned into his ear. "Please"

"Please what? Use your words, Y/N"

"Please"

"Yes?"

"Please, I wanna cum."

With that, as if on cue, you feel Hobie exploding inside you. He groaned and moaned your name as he emptied himself on you, and you cumming all over his dick. Your legs were shaking and still wrapped around his waist.

After a few seconds, he fell on top of you. Not all of his weight but he had rested his forehead on yours, as both of you tried to catch your breath.

"That was..."

"That was fun," you finished his sentence. He rolled over as he wrapped his arm around you and you laid your head on his chest.

You listened to both of your breathing and waited for it to return to normal. You feel Hobie leaned in to give your lips a quick peck as you drifted off to sleep.

[sysig]

2024 Art Purge (Part 1)

Original Edition again! Another year of too many doodles between original and fanart that didn’t make the full cut over the course of the year - off we go!

I made some concept art for smol early in the year of a mushroom girl she had a dream about a while ago that she wanted to try making as a low-poly model sometime. Pretty sure we've narrowed it down to the original DS-era style of 3D models

And so some angular low-poly style doodles were also called for! She's so tiny haha

Around the same time I was thinking about ZEX's “Kissing Strangers” meme, I started considering what Charm's reaction to that one might be - I'm always trying to think of animation memes for her, I'd love to animate her sometime ♥ In the end, it was all a bit too weird! In a way it’s fitting, as the meme is all about Looking and not finding the one you want to kiss til the very end lol, but who would that even be! Who would Charm Want to kiss, I don't know...

[Purple Text] only got a very little bit of screentime this year, but they're just as weird and possessive as ever - once, forever and always, at least according to how they see things

Smol and I tried out a few different creative games over the course of the year - my favourite probably being the Crossover Wheel where we each put in our list of fandoms, including ones we share, and then imagine what a crossover would be like haha. House Hunted is one of hers, and she tossed the idea my way of looking at Zillow Listings (specifically this group) and imagining them as Realtors! I got the Sunflower House - you'll know it when you see it haha

Bit of a random one, but I thought the sheep from this little scene was hecka cute and needed to study her. Good shapes! Very adorable! I like her covered eyes quite a lot, and her spindly little legs, funny to me hehe

I also wanted to study her "Leg of Lamb" posing - can you tell this is memory vs. references lol. S'why references are so important! The original's delicate posing is very lovely! The soft positioning of her knees and ankles and the way she's fully reaching across herself with those fluffy "sleeves" are probably my favourite parts, it's a good pose!

Haven't done any Halfway Autumn concept art in a while-while, so why not come back with Diana's bathroom lol. Still a bit of work to be done, moving the door is probably the biggest point - having the leftmost wall lined with counter space is clearly the correct play here. I really like the shapes that naturally occur from isometric, like the way the shower curtain rod connects to "nothing" but it still reads as stopping at the wall! :D

All of this floorplanning just for some flavourtext about Diana's preferred style of hand soap haha. Foaming soap dispensers are the best! Makes everything much much clearer, definitely not just because I prefer it, it's totally objective! Haha

More bathroom flavourtext, either at the schoolhouse or the train station, or both! Since so much of the game is centered around Diana's needs, little things like what soap she uses actually impact the game! I wish something so simple wouldn't affect my day, but sensory needs are called needs for a reason :P

Started a Charm comic that unfortunately only got as far as the first panel haha - she's taking a class! Off to improve her skills at something in a group environment! Good for her :)

Or not, the sads are here :'0

Did a bit of Tsumtsum studying while drawing the Helix boys as such haha - I have one of those little Vocaloid not-Tsumtsums (they're only Tsumtsums if they're Disney, right?), and one full-sized Iron Man one that I studied the approximate shapes of the pattern from, they don't Look complex and they're probably not Actually that hard to make but there's still a good bit to them! 3D shapes, I swear

The 4th Wall group! Their poses and expressions changed a bit from start to finish, Cory once again looking at Bar - I don't think he's actually "seen" Bar's new design before this point! :0 They're all generally aware of each other but "actually interacting" is a whole other thing haha

The two stragglers, made Tala way too tiny here haha. And forgot her bow here, no wonder I forgot it for the full version too! Pfbtl, next time :P

A traditional version of the Just Desserts map! :D Made after putting the digital version together, just kind of loosely studied, general shapes good for mapmaking :) I quite enjoy the little mountain texture here over the one from the digital version! S'hard to make nice-looking shapes without my tablet but I really didn't want to use it Just for that haha, so nice shapes here! Gives me DQIX map vibes, just a little bit... All those little islands to sail to haha

Snake, snake, snaaake, it's a snaaaake ♪ Made for smol's Christmas exchange ostensibly, but really more of a spacefiller and to get into the swing of drawing snakes, the cute lads

Ball python in the style of a ball of yarn! I wouldn't mind wrapping up a plush snake, but the way real ball pythons curl up into a ball is too cute haha

Here was the Actual snake I ended up making for smol - as a bookmark! I printed a few different versions, coloured one like this with extra-dark spots for the scales, and glued on a ribbon-tongue, cut down the middle for a forked look! :D She liked it, and I like it! Double victory :)

A little sticker concept while my laptop was out for attempted repairs - can't save 'em all I suppose. I do like that the head mirror is a disc, the stethoscope is a mouse, cute little details even for an unfortunate set of circumstances

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

would u ever explain the circley levels of hell chapter/plot/theme structure bc i am very curious 👀👀👀

WELL NOW THAT I'VE FINISHED MY DEGREE!! yes absolutely!

I'll make a video explaining this too since it might be helpful to hear me explain it with... my face, but this circular story structure is something I'm calling orbital plot structure. Luckily for all of us, I wrote up a detailed memo for my workshop which I'll share below (with lots of expansion)!

Disclaimer: The following is all my original writing theory AKA I came up with all of this myself AKA this method is in early development. You're welcome to share it/use it wherever, just link back to me! This also means when I think more, there may be more to say, LOL.

TL;DR: the orbital plot structure consists of two elements: the thematic satellite and the "scene" rings that orbit the satellite. I've shared two versions (the original and the modified version) below!

Orbital plot structure

The orbital plot structure consists of two essential components: the thematic satellite and the scene rings. We have a core theme (the “satellite”) that every single scene “orbits” around. Every scene links back to the theme.

Plot progression/movement comes from the rings rippling outward (indicated by the outward pointing arrows). However, this movement is still deeply connected to the theme (indicated by the unfilled arrows pointed inward—we are pushed out by the theme like an exhale but naturally brought back toward the theme like an inhale). The amount of rings will differ for each work.

This plot structure may work well for theme-driven stories and chapters between 1500-3500 words.

Example:

Below is an example of the classic orbital plot structure for the first chapter of my novella, BODY BACK (chapter update HERE!). That chapter is called "Living Pictures."

The theme for this chapter of course is "life as a living picture." Every single scene is necessitated by this theme and therefore precipitates the next scene that is also necessitated by the theme.

Here is a breakdown of how each scene links back to that theme:

Scene 1:

Harrison floats fully-clothed in a pool that belongs to a wealthy couple. He is jaded and also thinking about God

Explanation: This scene quite literally IS a living picture. Harrison feels unreal/otherworldly and not like an actual human person.

Scene 2:

Harrison describes the couple who own the house/pool. The man is a realtor, and the woman stays at home mostly, but walks dogs on the side.

Explanation: Harrison projects the couple who owns this home into "living picture" mode. He doesn't see them as people, but merely as The Realtor and The Dog-Walker.

Scene 3:

Harrison contemplates his “easy” Las Vegas life since moving in with his mother, Suzanna.

Explanation: Harrison explains how HIS actual life in Las Vegas has felt like a living picture (he also resists this idea at the end).

Scene 4:

Flashback: Harrison recalls drawing his new sort-of boyfriend, Jeremiah.

Explanation: This flashback with Jeremiah is ALSO a living picture. Heightened language. Dreamy imagery. He doesn't feel present, but like a snapshot in a moment.

Scene 5:

Harrison describes his vices (smoking and his ex, Lonan lmao, comparable) which trickles into a recurring dream/nightmare of Lonan.

Explanation: This scene is AGAIN a living picture--more dreamy language (it's quite literally a dream too). Lonan is captured in this memory, even though this moment was once real and not a photo.

Scene 6:

Distracted by the dream, Harrison is caught by the couple. The man seems unimpressed by him, though the woman (Sadie), perhaps realizing how young he is, invites him inside for tea.

Explanation: We SHATTER the living picture (LP) here. Harrison isn't living in a dream state, he's actually very much in the real world where breaking into a stranger's pool is NOT okay. LOL.

Scene 7:

Harrison observes the couple’s “catalogue” home while Sadie makes tea.

Explanation: Sadie and her husband live in a home that is also picturesque. BUT, he quickly notices something is amiss--she doesn't actually seem to genuinely exist in its pristineness and niceties, just like Harrison doesn't exist in the niceties of his "new" life in Las Vegas. This is why I ended the chapter here--he's addressed the theme.

You'll notice I didn't include the arrows in the above diagram--I've only included those for demonstration purposes to show how movement in this type of structure works. You know how water ripples in a circular pattern when you drop a stone into it? That's how this story structure progresses--every scene revolves around that stone in the centre.

^^ A visual for you!

Typically, in western storytelling, we think of structure like this:

This diagram is known as Freytag's triangle/pyramid, and it's a useful way to understand stories (though... not my favourite for many reasons, but a great place to brainstorm your own writing theory). In diagrams like this, it's easier to see the movement of a story, since the line naturally moves left to right.

You could ABSOLUTELY map "Living Pictures" on the above structure, but I personally prefer the orbital plot structure for this particular series of books (Moth Work x Feeding Habits x BODY BACK) because of how deeply thematic they are. Because those projects are very internal and driven by complicated emotional exploration into central themes, it only made sense to map my own story structure that was reflective of that.

To clarify, I don't mean that other structures can't contain theme. Of course they can! But this plot structure is specifically built for thematically-driven work (this would NOT work if your work was not thematically-driven).

Funnily, the orbital plot structure is what my brain "sees" as I write chapters in this series (I don't follow this structure for every project). So while some people outline, brainstorm, etc, in advance of drafting, I start drafting with this in mind. Usually I don't figure out the theme until I'm through the first scene, or sometimes until I'm done the first draft, but when that theme is identified, it's very easy for me to either mould the rest of the chapter around the theme, or revise it around that theme.

If I'm stuck while drafting a chapter, it's usually because something about the theme isn't clear--consciously or subconsciously--to me.

Also: because of the nature of this structure being quite specific to a theme, this is probably not the best fit for very long works/chapters. But I'm sure you could try!

Speaking of longer works...

Orbital plot structure (modified)

The modified orbital plot structure follows the same principles of the orbital plot structure with two essential components: the thematic satellite and the scene rings. Scenes continue to orbit the “satellite.” However, a new element—fossae/dips—are introduced in the case of longer word counts (3500+).

The amount of rings and dips will differ depending on the project (there can be more or less than what is pictured above). These dips serve as scenes that may not be as closely related to the theme but that still move the work toward another thematic scene/“bump.”

Plot progression/movement comes from the rings rippling outward (indicated by the outward pointing arrows). However, this movement is still deeply connected to the theme (indicated by the unfilled arrows pointed inward—we are pushed out by the theme like an exhale but naturally brought back toward the theme like an inhale).

I'm not going to include a physical example of this because that would be... a teeny cumbersome, LOL, but this is just an option for people who like the orbital plot structure idea but don't feel like they want to write scenes that are extremely thematic every single time (or their work wouldn't fit that original model).

To note: The dips/bumps don't need to be uniform. Two dips can follow each other, just as three bumps could follow each other. This will depend on you and the work.

But good writers don't gatekeep <3 so here's a written version of chapter six of Feeding Habits that follows this structure quite nicely. For the sake of clarity, I'm going to call the fossae/dip scenes "dips" and the thematic scenes "bumps."

CW: Dead animals, blood, violence

THEME: Indissoluble bonds

Scene A:

DIP: Harrison gets back to the NYC apartment he shares with his mother after running errands to ward off either the spirit that haunts their walls or to rescue whatever is stuck in them. His mother preps for a dinner as Harrison has invited his old pal Reeve over.

Explanation: This scene MUST happen to get us to the following "bump," and that's because we get some critical exposition here: Harrison has had to go to a hardware store for supplies to cut open the drywall in his apartment as he and his mother can hear something in the walls, AND, Reeve is coming over for dinner at Harrison's request. We're not sure why.

Scene B:

BUMP: Harrison removes a litter of kittens from behind the drywall. One of the kittens is dead. Strangely, a German Shepherd puppy is also in the litter.

Explanation: What does it mean for Harrison to find a single dead kitten in a litter of live kittens? Does that kitten have a bond to its litter, despite now being gone?

Scene C:

DIP: Reeve appears in a glamorous blur and makes an interesting first impression on Suz who seems slightly stunned and endeared by her.

Explanation: We need this scene to get us to the next bump--this is Reeve's intro and also introduces the "bond" she'll later form with Suz. The entire chapter title, "Blood Sister," comes from the women's bond. What does it mean to feel connected to someone as if you had actually done a blood pact? And is that similar to the bond between the kittens? ...And the bond between Lonan and Harrison...?

Scene D:

BUMP (subtler): At dinner Reeve confronts Harrison about his “straight-edge” lifestyle since moving to NYC and he realizes her judgements about his life being monotonous are very true–he lacks purpose.

Explanation: This scene gets us to an important realization for Harrison: he feels like something is missing in his life. I wonder WHAT (the answer is Lonan lol).

Scene E:

BUMP: Harrison and his mother clear the dishes and Suzanna confronts him on the fact that he hasn’t told her that Reeve is in fact Lonan’s sister. Suz knows the boys’ relationship is complicated, and plays Devil’s advocate by outright asking Reeve how her brother is. Reeve, who hasn’t seen Lonan longer than Harrison, has assumed Lonan lives with them or is close by, and feels semi-betrayed that Harrison has kept his whereabouts a secret.

Explanation: This one is more explicit of a bump. Why hasn't Harrison told his mother Reeve's true identity? Is it because he's not ready to even think about Lonan who he still feels inextricably connected to??? Yes!

Scene F:

DIP & BUMP: Reeve and Harrison drive to a garden and he’s reminded of the event that lead to him and his mother’s return to the east. Harrison meets Winona outside a convenience store, the same woman Lonan meets in ch.6 of Moth Work. She takes him to her mansion where she’s hosting a party and introduces him to her husband. Harrison makes multiple bad decisions which you can probably figure out for yourself!

Explanation: This scene almost serves as both a dip AND bump as we slowly "dip" into exposition. But the relevance and "bump" of this scene becomes abundantly clear when we realize the woman Harrison follows home is the SAME woman Lonan follows him in Moth Work. Indissoluble bonds driving you to do the same thing?? LMAO I love them <3

Scene G:

BUMP: Harrison wakes up in Winona’s house and is confused to see her and her husband standing over his leather jacket. If we remember what happened in ch. 6 of Moth Work, Lonan gets beat up by Winona’s husband and has Harrison’s jacket & angel chain stolen. We can assume from this scene that Winona has a) recognized the jacket and b) chosen him to come back to her house for the purpose of also beating him up (which happens).

Explanation: Again, why do Harrison and Lonan make the SAME decisions and have the SAME thing happen to them? Is this because they have an indissoluble bond? That theme is actually dropped explicitly in this scene. (Also a tangent: in the MW version of this scene, Lonan loses the fight--black eye art is the aftermath of that--and therefore loses the jacket, but in FH, Harrison stumbles out of there with his jacket HAHA so he won. Lonan is a loser. <3)

Scene H:

BUMP: Reeve and Harrison jump a fence into a garden to give the dead kitten an unorthodox “water burial” in the garden’s fountain. Reeve confronts him on why no one has seemed to care about her whereabouts for the last year, and also suggests the only reason he wanted to see her now is because he misses Lonan. Harrison miserably drinks too much wine.

Explanation: In this scene, Harrison contemplates the indissoluble bond between the dead kitten and its litter--it's gone now, but was still a part of that collective, just like Lonan is gone now from his life but is still part of his collective. Harrison accepts that yes, he indeed still feels connected to Lonan, and actually, deeply misses Lonan (like the kittens--do they miss their sibling now that its gone?). He literally writes out Lonan's name in the snow as an expression of admittance to that truth (THAT'S GAY AS FUCK HARRISON, GAY AS FUCK).

Alright, I couldn't help myself, here's an illustration to show what that chapter looks like according to this structure. You can see I only used one ring because I don't have that many scenes. Now that I think of it, for this modified structure, a single ring would work well for one story/chapter (whereas in the original structure, one ring equals a scene), unless you have 60 million scenes (or you use act breaks within chapters). *High five!* we've made a development as I wrote this post.

A hint about orbital structures: some crime TV shows use this structure IMO, ESPECIALLY episodes that follow crimes that are geared at revealing something about one of the central characters. Look at many of the Criminal Minds specials OR at any Hannibal episode and you won't be able to unsee it LOL.

Let me know if you have any questions! For writers who have very visual brains like me (or writers who've described their processes as "sculpting" words like myself), I hope this is useful!

[clunelover]

Watching The Americans, one thing I keep thinking about - I really relate to this feeling of "omg I’m raising my kids in such luxury compared to how I grew up, and they have no idea how spoiled they are."

And this is with us trying consciously to not spoil them! But just…idk it seems like kids have so much more stuff now. My kids have SO many stuffed animals and toys, and while I definitely remember my mom being annoyed specifically at my large stuffed animal collection, there’s no way I had this much stuff! But we only really get them stuff for their birthdays and Christmas, we’re not out here like buying random toys just because! And we stick pretty closely to the "four Christmas presents from mom and dad to each kid - something you want, something you need, something to wear, something to read." Although we’ve slipped a little, like getting more than one something to wear or read because like, shouldn’t we be able to get them LOTS of books? But this year we’re going back to full on, just four items for each of them - but I’m saying, even when we’ve fudged it a bit, we didn’t get them more than one TOY or "want" item…so where does it all come from?

Idk maybe I’m misremembering how much stuff I really had…also my kids are closer in age than I was with my sisters, so we had relatively little overlap of time when we both wanted stuffed animals or whatever. And they have more aunts/uncle/grandparents in their lives consistently getting them gifts. When I was growing up, my mom was mostly estranged from her family and they didn’t send us stuff, and then on my dad’s side there were so many damn grandkids you could count on one SMALL present from grandma and grandpa (is that right? That still would have been quite a lot of presents even if they were small…but in any case I remember that being pretty strictly regulated lol).

It’s just weird…when I was little, my mom was on welfare, and I definitely remember knowing we didn’t have much compared to other people. But then she married my stepdad and became a realtor, and between both their jobs we had a solidly middle class lifestyle for a while…but then it moved on to real boom and bust when they split up, like she at one point had a big house in the nicest neighborhood in town, plus a little cottage up north, but then they both got foreclosed on. She declared bankruptcy twice, once when I was in 5th grade and once when I was early 20s. That level of up and down. And I always knew WAY too much about her financial situation as a kid, and a lot of her out-loud fantasizing included "when we’re rich"…so there was just an icky level of focus on money (but I’m saying this as someone who is now upper middle class and always has enough money, so it’s comparably easy for me to NOT focus on it).

And then my dad and stepmom also had an unusual setup, where my dad did work until I was in maybe middle school, but then he became too disabled, and they lived on his disability plus whatever money from my wealthy step-grandparents (although my stepmom claims that while they did give generous gifts, like if it was time to get a new car her parents would just buy it for them as a gift, they didn’t give any regular $ to cover day to day expenses…who knows whether that’s really true). In any case, my stepmom almost never had a job, since my sister was born when I was 11 - she was a stay at home mom to my sister, and then she didn’t get a job when my dad stopped working, because my sister was still little, and then even as sister got older my dad needed a lot of care (…but if she didn’t have the safety net of her parents, she would have had to get a job, and they all would have survived!) The point is, from the time I was in like…7th grade? Neither of them had a job at all!

So it’s like I don’t quite have a model for "living modestly and teaching one’s children the ‘value of a dollar’ without getting them all freaked out or overly focused on money."

One thing I intend to get into once my foot is healed and I can move about, is volunteering as a family. We have some friends who do that every week and I think it’s a great idea to try to have the kids focused a little on things other than what they want to acquire.

[clonerightsagenda]

Continuing with HDM season 2!

Episode 5:

She put a seatbelt on her monkey... please Mrs. Coulter give him a little vest like the stylish yet illegal IKEA monkey.

Taking a few swipes at capitalism lmao. Yes money is our church here.

Someone please get Will some ibuprofen. This kid is going through a double amputation on no pain meds.

Boreal left cool steampunk England and painted his new house realtor gray. He doesn't deserve his wealth

Interuniverse artifact smuggling, guess that's one way to make a quick buck

Is it me or are the gateways a bit yonic

Mary is department chair?? Good for her but also no wonder she's so tired. Mrs. C was clearly impressed by that.

It's time for an alternate universe makeover scene! She should hold up various outfits while the golden monkey nods or shakes his head. Loved her pinching the jeans and holding them up like they were a biohazard.

She ditched her daemon again and claims it's about self-control. Guess we're going with the 'more people who are alienated from themselves can separate' sequel lore.

Ouch re: Mary asking about her doctorate and publications and Mrs. Coulter BSOD'ing realizing she could have been so much more in a world with slightly less structural misogyny. FOMO moment.

Mary attempting to google her, haha

The Shadows didn't tell Mary to smash up her computer! Guess she won't be wanted by the police in the TV version. That makes her postcanon life a little easier. Also she has a really nice house for a professor in a struggling department.

Everyone keeps fucking with Boreal's statues. I almost feel bad for him.

Episode 6:

Brief hint of the angels protecting Mary! Makes sense, it's never clear how she's defended from specters. Also lol at Mary's reaction to Angelica going "we tried to kill Lyra". The show's portraying her a little more sympathetically, especially as the mob violence scene was a lot shorter.

I would be very uncomfortable with a bunch of strange women doing interpretive dance over me. Sorry the healing spell is so much weirder in the tv version Will.

Pan is leaning against his shoulder! Guess it's ok because he's wearing a shirt.

Mrs. Coulter seeing someone who got their soul devoured: I could use this

Love Lord Boreal quietly shutting the door and hiding while she confronts the specters

"If we die, we're of no help" want to bet, two characters who will show up as helpful ghosts later

So we're tying Mrs. Coulter's power over the specters to her separation ability/ability to suppress parts of herself. I guess that's also the angle we'll be taking when she cons Metatron. Yes I accidentally typed angel instead of angle at first. Then I did it again.

Getting poisoned sucks, Boreal, but look at it this way. She could've sicced the specters on you. This way is kinder.

John Parry can psychically command birds. Why? IDK man he just can. Don't worry about it.

[celestie0]

ok forget bicep biting now that you’ve established the god if kinks THIGH RIDING 🙏🙏

I think of it in a brat taming way and thats the vibe that ihm gojo gives

but I think im an octave dirtier bc I secretly wanna shoe ride him as punishment 🫠

Like obviously they'll have to be brand new polished shoes cause ew

but imagineee like the business shoes with the whole realtor fit and hes just sitting leaned back on the couch and readers face is just crying and drooling on his knee begging him to forgive her for running her mouth a lil too much

And she’s groping his dick with grabby hands through the fabric

for purchase lol

(I imagine their actually married at this point)

and he’s like sweetly running his hand through her hair and rubbing her cheek against his pants but at the same time he’s harshly pressing his shoe up to her and not giving her a break

and eventually he pulls her face up a bit and sees her cry baby face and feels merciful so he pulls her up off the ground to finish on his thigh

and she basically passes out in his lap and he lets her nap nuzzled in his shoulder while he takes a call from a client

ok gn I’m ashamed 😞

same not a single thing turns me on more than thigh riding ✋🏼😭😓 idk just getting manhandled n balanced on gojo’s thigh while you rub yourself on him til you cum…DAMN I KINDA NEED THAT

STOP HELLO THAT WAS SO HOT?? I FEEL PHYSICALLY HOT RN??? bae you should write smut LMFAO

i have never thought about shoe riding before but now i am bc her drooling on his knee and him pushing his shoe up against her pussy…he’s so annoying he’d make some stupid joke about how she’s gotta polish his shoes up with her pussy before his meeting w his client 😓😖

adding this to list of ihm ideas ✍🏼

[accidentally-in-fictional-love]

Sooo I finally got to read the Simon fic, and it was so good! You made me warm up to him more and understand him a little better. It was a nice way to save him too, I like that the protagonist isn't this perfect individual, they get jealous, a lil bit stalky, which quite honestly is very relatable and realistic. Couple questions:

Do you think there's a character that is beyond saving? Denham, Willy, Dave from Heavy (lol jk) Is there hope for everyone?

Do you plan on writing for characters that have died and if so, will you come up with a way to bring them back or have the story take place before the death or alternate universe?

Every time I get love for my fics with one of the lesser loved characters my heart grows three sizes and I want everyone to know this Q//w//Q This answer got long so I'm putting it behind a cut, I've never gotten to answer something like this before other than my Simon one from yesterday so this was a lot of fun to think about! 💗

Going into writing readers I honestly thought I'd just be writing me over and over, but as I do more of them I'm so glad that it's easy to fit someone different into whatever role the character needs them to be, which is so different from my usual stuff since I'm very used to fitting the plot around purely existing characters, or my own ocs, and getting to write up someone new who can mesh with these guys while also having that bit of me and what I hope are bits of the people who read them is so incredibly refreshing and a constant challenge I welcome 😊

I feel like some are beyond saving, but only because I have a horrible fear of getting attacked for wanting to find a way to save the unsaveable just because I'm into villains and think they're hot lmao

It's a challenge for sure, but I don't see myself being able to do any villain redemptions for Denham or Willy or even Realtor Dave since they're so surface level evil and love the hell outta it (even though my villain-lovin ass can probably still give them fully fledged proper backstories oop), unlike Simon or Kyle Slade or Logan Reeves, who all have short parts and did very bad things but also have peeks into how they got there, and I can always work with that.

I love doing deep dives and finding out how a character in the present got to where they are, figure out where they can go when they miss that One Event that made them a villain, and doing it with DD's roles has been so much fun since he loves playing rounded out characters and is always adding so much to them so they're not Just Evil, even if we get a few who're exactly that just for funsies hehe

This is why Gensan is such an interesting character to me despite The Big Flaw, because I see him get reduced to only that when there's a ton that made him that way. I'll never ship with him, the super rare character I don't since DD lures me in that easily, but I can't hate him either, and that's just the honest truth because he's so much more than Uh Oh Plot Twist because DD's such an amazing writer. This movie and Animals stuck with me the most after I watched them, I was just thinking about them for like a solid week afterwards, constantly turning over what I'd just seen in my mind whenever I stopped thinking of other things and putting those early pieces together so I could see why he reacted that way, or did what he did, and I'd love to try and watch it again soon and catch all the stuff I missed the first time.

And then there's Cam, who just really fuckin sucks lmao he's the absolute worst, 0 stars, kick to the balls, what an asshole 😂

As for characters who died, of course! Two of my biggest loves are Abner and Wojchek, and I'm also madly in love with Bob now as well, so they'll all have fully fledged fixits with my selfship sona Addy as I get back to all her plots, Abner first and foremost oh my god my heart I love him so much he needs to be alive and happy forever 😭

Outside of her, yes absolutely I'll find ways to save them for my readers, their canon endings will not stop me QwQ A lot of them don't deserve their ends with or without redemptions if they're a villain (looking at you Dwight you maniac I love you), and definitely not if they're good people who're just in the wrong place at the wrong time like Lonny or Lester or Coco now that I've finally watched BR2049. I'll probably mostly stick to saving them before their deaths rather than bringing them back or delving into aus (apart from the starting au of having the reader in their lives lol) since those kinda ideas can get away from me fast and start series, and I wanna save all the big series for my boys the Three River Phoenixes and all of Addy's plots~

This is where I'd love to get more requests, since I'm still mainly writing for who I love, so getting that random challenge to fix or save someone evil or who died before any real character of theirs was established would be hard but I know I'd have a lot of fun with them 😊💗

[bisluthq]

Someone on Reddit said they’re friends with the sibling of Taylor’s problematic best friend who she pretends she isn’t friends with anymore and they said they know for a fact that Taylor didn’t even properly break up with Joe or give him any warning that it was coming, she waited till he was away and moved her things out of their place in London. They said she was fully in love with MH, left Joe for him and in general is very weird and not a great person based on what they’ve heard about her 🤷🏻‍♀️

”Someone on Reddit said they’re friends with the sibling of Taylor’s problematic best friend who she pretends she isn’t friends with anymore” … someone on Reddit knows Cyrus Dunham? Sorry bestie I need to crack the blind before we discuss further lol.

I have heard now many many times (from everyone like my normie friend who’s friends with Tom A to people online who I do know from when I took gossip blogging seriously and to like the weird rumors re emails) that he was blindsided and didn’t expect it, wbk she was deeply in love with Matty, and I will say this is the first reaaally blindsided version I’ve heard that sorta tracks lol where she just collected her shit and then told him they’re through and that was fucking that. I still think she told him in person over that Easter break but I could believe by the time he was there her shit was cleared out and she was like “and this is the realtor’s number if you wanna continue the lease 🫡 peace out my brother”

I do think Cyrus’s friends would know more tea than Pat’s classmates tbh because Lena can’t shut up and lives in London so obviously knew what was going on but I also don’t know that Cyrus is the best person to judge TSwizzle because I feel like they just wouldn’t vibe energetically iykwim? So Cyrus saying Tay sucks may be what they genuinely believe and go around saying and they are entitled to say so but eh I’m not sure Tay and Cyrus would just… vibe.

[nityarawal]

Sent to legal:

Aloha! Happy Presidents day! I spoke to my handyman about bullying from my landlord Daniel Hall for his lazy sauna bedroom bill. He and my other 7 handman feel he's giving men a bad name smearing our best moms as a gay man. His X Cougar gf Melody Gray lured me here to testify against her nurse IEHP mom in medical malpractice lawsuit with Dr Natalya. They treated me for Tick, lymes, and a brain cyst then coldly blocked me from any follow up since and try to mentally abuse me. Melody caught her mom on this phone number listed above smearing her and I. She's failed to procure screen shots she promised in June! Darlene worked at Dr. Browning office & Idyllwild Health Center with Ukranian Dr. Natalya murdering thousands of colleagues and clients since covid. My atty was Ken Carlsson but he's been found guilty of committing foul play with brokers & courts too for murder. America First Legal is handling refunds from Elon Musk now. I cc'd them. We just need all your testimony for Dr Adam Cash- he wrote "Psychology For Dummies." Thankyou.

This is the culmination of my work. Integrity. Lol A new president and my kids are coming home today to play with puppies. Make that happen. Melody also busted PNC Bank for harvesting clients with Pfizer and BBVA AI scams. She filmed pnc Pfizer executive office on record- caught them lying etc. Could y'all hurry and send in your testimonies so I can close out? Truth is I need heat and Daniel has been a selfish substandard landlord. I was soaking wet cold all winter and he kept unplugging electric because he's having bi-bolar, manic, schizophrenic episodes at all the tenants. Melody claims he violently broke her leg. I work on comission as a journalist for justice & housing rights as a realtor of 25 years. Melody took a bribe from her Idaho sugar daddy big pharma pimp and got a black Mercedes over Christmas- tampering with Elon Musk cybertruck give away for distressed moms. Melody also claims her step dad molested her and her 3 daughters. He's 10 years younger than Darlene and she's sold out to pedophilia agenda. Melody also said Daniel's step-dad Martin tried to molest a tenant. Could you explain what happens to men that molested children Dennis. I'll send the country club murder article about Adrian Denada so we're crystal clear what happens and please advise Martin not to come back to California. Robert Dreyfuss's dad was murdered from Aguanga on that addiction too. They'll put the gun in Daniel's hand and force him to pull the trigger. Only a 2.5 year charge for the child victims in self defense. Does that play book work for step-dad? It seems Sheriff Parsons is circling our home to set the groundwork? We'd rather Vegas handle charges humanely.

Thanks for cleaning up the hill. Please don't hurt Daniel or his pets & dogs or my x! Just get our kids. Melody has a 15yo Anjali molested by Darlenes pimp too.

All Love,

Nitya xo

[inwintersolitude]

- October 24th 2023 -

Do a lot of people tell you that you are funny? A few people do. The closer I am with someone, the more they'll see my funny/goofy side.

Have you gone to a tanning bed lately? Nope, I've never been in a tanning bed, ever.

What did you do on the Fourth of July? I didn't do anything to celebrate it. I think my husband was gone flying that day, and I just relaxed at home. I did happen to see the town's fireworks display on my way home from the store that evening, though.

Do you ever watch Hannah Montana? No, I've never watched it.

Do you think Miley Cyrus is a good role model? I have no idea. I don't know much about her.

Do you have nice legs? Sure.

Are you good at decorating? I'm alright at it. It's one of the few artsy/creative things I'm not terrible at, haha.

Have you ever been to Ohio? I live in Ohio, actually. Lived here from 1993-2013, and again from 2021-present.

Do you like southern accents? It depends on the exact type of Southern accent. Most of them are meh, but I do like the ''classy Southern Belle'' type of accent. Can't think of a better way to describe it LOL.

Do you watch Big Brother? No.

How old is the oldest person who has ever liked you? My husband is 36. But he was 22 when we started dating.

Do you get intimidated easily? Not really.

Do you get a shower every day? No, sometimes I skip a day.

Do you like mountain biking? I used to when I was younger. I'm much more wary of sports/activities with a high risk of injury nowadays. I had a really bad wrist injury from slipping on ice when I was 26, it took forever to heal and it affected my mental health. When I was younger, I brushed off injuries like they were nothing, but ever since that wrist injury, I just don't mentally deal with injuries well at all.

What is something you like to do for fun? Nature photography and drone photography.

Do you remember a lot of things from whenever you were a child? Yep, I can recall the vast majority of my childhood.

What was something good that happened to you this week? My husband and I went over to my parent's house for dinner this past Friday, along with my brother and sister-in-law and their kids. We all had a really great time.

Have you ever been to Ireland? Yes, I was just in Ireland a few weeks ago!

Do you have a lot of shoes? Maybe like 10 pairs.

Would you rather go out to eat or make dinner yourself? It depends on what sort of food I'm in the mood for, and whether or not I feel like cooking.

Do you like The Goonies? I've never watched it.

Would you ever consider being a photographer? I'm an amateur photographer. I've been into photography off-and-on for almost 20 years.

What is something that you aren't good at? I'm awful at any sort of creative writing.

What is something you really regret? Not leaving my former job when I first started to think of leaving. I stayed, pushed myself only to end up even more stressed out, and then a coworker caused an accident that gave me permanent hearing damage.

Do you think you have a lot of friends? No, I don't have many friends at all. But I like it this way. I'm not a very social person.

Do you like to answer questions in detail? Usually.

Who are the texts in your inbox from? My husband, my brother, my sister-in-law, my mom, my dad, my friend Cory, and my realtor.

What is something you wear everyday? My glasses.

What clothing store do you really like? Ralph Lauren and L.L. Bean are my two favorites.

Do you have a lot of chores? Well yeah, I'm an adult with my own household.