#nuri gone so what the board is still here

[ugartecoco]

the modern day sisyphus is equivalent to being a fan of a incompetent football club

[spiderman-homecomeme]

Something Old

Part 1 of “And a Silver Sixpence in Her Shoe”

AN: Hey guys! I’m back with another multi-chap, though a much shorter one! This was just an idea I had a few weeks ago and I thought it was too cute not to write. It’s short. It’s sweet. It’s FLUFFY. Get ready for a Spideychelle wedding everyone!!! This story follows the poem: something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue :)

Read here or on AO3

-

Her nails are digging into her palm, one hand clenched while the other taps at her thigh in a hiccuping rhythm as she paces the short stretch of hallway just outside his room. 

This was a bad idea.

Wasn’t it?

No, it was fine. 

If he could do it, so could she. 

The thundering beat of her heart accompanied by the tightness in her chest tells her otherwise. She knows that it’s normal, her body’s own physiological reaction in response to a significant amount of acute stress, something perceived as a threat to her very survival. It was fight or flight, and in that moment, she was leaning more towards the latter. 

Yeah, flight was sounding pretty good right about now.

And though it wasn’t necessarily life and death, knocking on Peter’s door, asking him to hang out-- even after all the confessions and kisses on the bridge-- might as well have been. 

But damn it, they had one more (very much unplanned) night in London, and she wasn’t about to let it go to waste. Due to the terrifying nature of that day’s events, all flights out had been cancelled and rescheduled for the next day, the entire class being put up in some fancy hotel, once again, by someone whose name rhymes with Fick Nury. Although she desperately wanted to be home after the fiasco that was this “vacation,” she knew a night to cool off was probably for the best. After all, Peter had been dangerously, just all around, way too close to dying; getting on an eight hour flight right after with no rest in between would probably not be good for his overall well-being. 

Which was why she was second guessing her decision right now even more, if that was even possible, her hand toying with the silver chain around her neck, coming down to the broken glass pendant.

She’s just convinced herself that maybe this really was a terrible, no good idea, about to turn right on her heels, when the click of his door opening stops her. He startles slightly at the sight of her, his brows raised, mouth twisted into a cute little “o,” eyes blinking owlishly in surprise. “Hey.” A breathy chuckle escapes him, a shy grin breaking across his features. 

“Uh, hey,” MJ replies lamely, feeling as if all of the oxygen’s been taken out of the room. Her own lips fight back a dopey smile as she offers a weak wave. 

A beat passes.

Peter clears his throat, eyes falling on the piece of jewelry hanging quietly around her neck. He’s unable to hide the way his cheeks warm and redden, his lips twisting as he bites back a shy smile at the sight of the Black Dahlia necklace he’d given to her just hours before. 

It’s a look that Michelle can’t help but think looks ridiculously good on him. Almost unfairly so. 

He gestures to the necklace, opening his mouth to speak but finds that he’s unable to form coherent, human sentences.

She glances down, her voice soft. “Oh, uh, yeah. I… put it on.” 

“Yeah,” he breathes, not entirely sure why he felt that was an adequate response. “I, uh, was actually gonna come see if you wanted to, uh, hang out. For a bit.”

The smile on Michelle’s face threatens to grow, and she glances down. “Me, too. I mean, I was gonna see if you wanted to hang out. Not… Not me,” she laughs breathily. “That’s… that’s why I was in the hallway. To come see you. Uh, yeah…”

God, how did he do that?

How was he the only person that could possibly make her so damn nervous? Make her bumble and ramble on like some kind of lovesick puppy?

“Do you wanna…” He falters, glancing down at his hands. “Do you wanna maybe come in? We can like, watch a movie or something? It’s all on Nick Fury’s bill, so we could probably get whatever we want on pay-per-view…” He jokes, scratching the back of his neck as he rocks on his heels. 

MJ doesn’t even take more than a second to consider. “Yeah. Yeah, totally. That’d be… That’d be cool.”

Peter instantly relaxes, letting out a breath of what she can only assume is relief as he beams at her. 

“Awesome.”

And it was, if she could say so herself, awesome. 

Yes, it was awesome, even if they did spend a majority of the actual movie sitting approximately fifty feet away from each other on the bed, still only looking at each other when they thought the other couldn’t see.

(Spoiler alert: they both could.)

She’d catch herself playing with the necklace more than once, and she’s at least ninety percent sure Peter had too.

Not that she cared really. 

The way she’d see him from the corner of her eye, the tips of his ears turning an adorable shade of pink, the way he’d struggled to bite back the dumb little grin tugging at his lips. When she’d felt his pinky lightly, cautiously graze hers, his hand slowly intertwining with her own… It was enough to make the dozens of butterflies in her stomach start to spontaneously combust all at once. 

She’d gone back to her own room close to one in the morning, biting at the inside of her cheek to prevent her grin from growing any wider, feeling as if her body could’ve gone into cardiac arrest after Peter had landed a particularly sweet goodnight kiss right on her mouth. 

And she’d fallen asleep that night, the faint smile on her face never having left, her fingers smoothing over the glass pendant of the necklace. 

It’s almost the same that next morning, seeing him at the complimentary breakfast, sitting across from him at the small table as they both munch happily on some Fruity Pebbles. 

The same feeling’s there when they board the plane home, finally sitting together and using Peter’s dual headphone adapter to watch a plethora of both depressing and funny movies, per her request. His eyes light up, same as they had the night before, seeing the pretty, broken necklace around her neck. 

And of course, the giddy warmth MJ’s been experiencing only skyrockets when she feels Peter’s head fall onto her shoulder, the cutest, faintest snore coming out of his mouth as he naps. 

Her eyes pore over the book in her hand, absentmindedly touching her necklace, her fingers delicately toying with the shattered pendant. Peter had been so sad, so disappointed seeing it broken in her hands, the way he’d rambled on and on about his plan, how sorry he was, still making her stomach to backflips and somersaults. 

But it didn’t matter to her that the necklace wasn’t “perfect.” 

Not in the slightest.

Her lips press into a fond smile when she feels Peter shift, nestling even closer than before, and she leans her head down on top of his, eyes closing.

She really did like it better broken. 

--

She wears the necklace everyday. 

Absolutely never, under any circumstances, takes it off.

No exceptions. 

(Well, maybe to sleep. And shower. But those were the only times.)

And every time Peter sees her wearing it, he always has the same reaction, the same one as that one night in London, without fail; he looks down briefly, his lips pressing together in a valiant effort to keep the timid smile tugging at the corner of his mouth from getting any bigger. He does this, even as they reach their first anniversary. 

And their second.

And their third.

And so on.

She’s wearing it the day they actually define their relationship, Peter’s voice the faintest bit shaky as he sits on the opposite end of the couch, asking what if they were “boyfriend and girlfriend.”

And her answer had been surprisingly simple, disguising her own frayed nerves and churning stomach under thinly veiled nonchalance as her eyes meet his. 

“I mean, I’m wearing this, aren’t I?” She’d asked in return, hooking her thumb underneath the silver chain. At his unsure silence, her expression had broken, and she’d glanced down, laughing nervously at her own lame attempt at a joke. “I mean, if you… if you wanna be.”

“I do,” Peter breathes out, worried expression melting away into a smile. “Do… Do you… wanna be… my girlfriend?”

Just as before with his first question, her answer is quick and simple. 

“I do.”

There are other necklaces over the years, of course; ones that friends give her. Ones that her parents give her. Even ones that Peter gives her. 

But, no matter what, she always comes back to the shattered black dahlia. 

It’s weird, how something so small can mean and hold so much. She’s never considered herself an overly sentimental person, never being one to care much about physical objects, but for some reason (and she has a vague idea as to what that is), her entire worldview practically flips on its axis, just for this piece of fine Italian jewelry. 

There’s so much to that small necklace, the one he’d first given her all those years ago on the Tower Bridge, and with it comes all of the butterfly-inducing memories of that night and day. Their first kiss. Their first confessions. The beginning of their relationship. Watching movies in his hotel room late at night. 

Really, it means more to her than she could ever possibly even begin to admit. 

And Peter seems to know without her ever saying a word. After all, he feels the same way. 

There’s not a single important milestone or event that she’s not wearing it. 

She wears it with her near matching black prom dress. 

To any and all decathlon meets, especially nationals, because she has this faint inkling that, hey, it might bring them some good luck.

To her dad’s family reunion, hiding in the corner of the room with all of the other introvert Joneses.

To birthday parties.

To graduation.

Everywhere. 

Her mom had noticed, always smirking quietly to herself seeing the piece of jewelry hanging delicately around her daughter’s neck. “You’re gonna end up wearing that thing on your wedding day, aren’t you?” She had joked at one point, the warm, teasing glint in her eyes impossible to ignore as she’d helped a college Freshman MJ move into her dorm. 

Then, Michelle had rolled her eyes, stomach flip-flopping in embarrassment at being so called out. She hadn’t answered, instead ignoring her mom’s question as she unconsciously reached a hand up to fiddle with the necklace in question.

And now, nearly six years later, she smiles at the memory, holding the same necklace in her hands, thumb tenderly smoothing over the still shining black glass as she’s zipped into a simple, yet beautiful white gown. 

There was a past to this old necklace, one that was so precious to both MJ and to Peter. One that would be with them always, wherever they went. No matter what.

And her mom had been absolutely right. 

[yoyoplisetsky]

I was sick for like half of this week which probably explains why this list is so long? Unfortunately didn’t write much, bc a lot of what i’m doing is behind the scenes stuff with no visible results rn (working on my shitbang fic, working on a few things that I haven’t finished yet). However, I read like 20+ super amazing fics??? As always, pls rec me any you’ve written/enjoyed, because I want to read them so much!! 

What I Read This Week (7/9-7/16)

I Don’t Know ‘Bout Me but I Know About You - ouroboros - @ouroborosbites - Set at the GPF a year-ish pre-canon. JJ, having a sexuality crisis, propositions Victor, who, having not found his direction through Yuuri yet, is enough of a mess to accept. (My review: JJ/Viktor? And I enjoyed it? No, seriously, surprisingly good!!)

Let Me Sail Across the Sea for there is Never One Who Loved You More Than Me - tothebatcave53 - @tothebatcave53 - Victor has always loved the ocean, he is drawn to it's beauty and it's power. He sets out, a simple day in a simple boat with a simple desire to just exist in peace out in the ocean. When Victor wakes it is to the turmoil of the waves, desperate to sink him and his tiny boat into it's murky depths. It is only the most beautiful hallucination that keeps Victor sane in what he assumes are his last moments. (My review: AHHHH guys i always need mermaid aus i’m fricken screaming this one is so a+ everyone read it)

i’m someone you maybe might love - xylophones - @xyloophones -  Viktor sighs. “It’s nothing. It’s just––you never look at me like this.” / “How am I looking at you?” / “Like I’m someone special. Like I’m someone you might love.” / Yuuri frowns. “You are someone I love.” / Viktor shakes his head and laughs, just on this side of bitter. “Not like that, Yuuri.” / (Or: Viktor is not as observant as he thinks he is.) (My review: this is a super precious high school au that i would suggest to everyone because it’s so many amazing tropes wrapped up in one fic)

come with me and escape - La_Temperanza - @teekettle - Viktor meets a hypnotizing stranger dancing in the club and, well, things just naturally progress from there. (My review: hooooo boy nsfw viktuuri week is a Treat. yes. i love this. this is a good trope)

For Your Eyes Only - opalish - tumblr unknown (pls tell me if you know?) - Yuuri once told Victor that Phichit was the only foreign skater he considered a friend. Yuuri lied. He's been Seung-gil's dirty little secret for well over a year. (My review: O H MY GOD so that art of seunggil and yuuri being friends is one of my favorites so i’m ??? so glad someone acted on it)

black box (Ch. 1) - SKnight - @sephknight​ - The entire world is thrown into madness when all the best actors team up for a new TV show about... skating? Doesn't matter, all the fans know is that this means roughly 273.15% more ice cube jokes, the potential resurrection of some dead memes, and 9999% more Victuuri to scream about and die from. The fans have been thirsty for more Katsuki-Nikiforov co-starred content since 2011, and this oncoming show about ice could just be the thing to quench that thirst. ...Oh god, the bad jokes are already starting. (My review: look we all know i have a Thing for fics with fake social media and this one is ALL fake social media so i’m pumped to see more)

third time lucky - katsukiy - @yuriplisetsk​ - This year, for Tanabata, Viktor decided to wish for something a little different. (My review: not even double but Triple yuuri!!! oh god we all know here that i have a Thing for multiples, but this is so good)

Dinner For Two - Yuripaws - @yuripaws​  - Viktor dreams of two delicious bowls of katsudon only to find that he isn't invited to dinner. But he is invited to the show. (My review: MORE. DOUBLE. YUURI. guys i’ll never be sick of this trope and this one is so a+ with our desperate viktor mmm yes)

love’s not a competition (but i’m winning) (Ch. 1) - LittleLostStar, spookyfoot - @iwritevictuuri​, @katsukiyuuristrophyhusband​ - Victor Nikiforov is the leader of the best burlesque revue in the city, and well on his way to achieving his dream goal of a Upper-Level Lesser Kardashian-level stardom, complete with his own reality TV show. So when rival burlesque dancer Yuuri Katsuki scoops Victor's theme night and refuses to back down (or fire those hips that will not quit), it doesn't take long before war is declared—a tense and glittery battle featuring anarchic stagehands, orange light gels, fake eyelashes...and some occasional hate-sex that may not be hate-sex at all. (My review: give me more glitter or give me death! you can expect nothing else from spooky and star than just the absolute best and that’s this.)

Here Comes The Sun - henrywinter (bakkhant) - @bakkhanalia​ - Written for YOI Catfish Prompt Party 2017, for the prompt ‘apocalypse au with it being their last day on earth!’. This...probably isn't what you wanted. (My review: ahh such a cool au!! i love the take on the prompt they had and it was so well written :))

Partner, Let Me Upgrade You (Series - Parts 1-4, Ch. 1-6 (Part 1), Ch. 1-2 (Part 3) - cuttlemefish - @cuttlemefishwrites​ - Z’s Popstar AU (My review: z, i was going to rec all of these individually but then my rec list would hvae gone on for like 50 years. but asfkl; i finally got around to reading it and i’m dying for my Extra sons)

Baby, I’m Preying on You Tonight (Ch. 8) - cuttlemefish - @cuttlemefishwrites​ - Yuuri and Phichit registered and named the pet shop when they were drunk. They didn’t exactly expect it to become the most popular pet shop in Seattle. (It was only supposed to be a front to fund Phichit’s (undercover) animal rescue missions.) Enter Viktor Nikiforov, the man with the pink Cadillac and the giant brown poodle (that's stolen Yuuri's heart), and Yuuri might have lost his mind, because apparently he keeps flirting with a client – and he never even notices. (My review: the jjs will never cease to slay me. viktor and chris especially cute in this chapter)

patellofemoral pain syndrome (Ch. 3) - seventhstar - @pencilwalla​ - It’s just…does Viktor not get bored with doing it the same way every night? Doesn’t he want to spice things up? Is Yuuri being unreasonable? He’s pretty sure that if Viktor told him his performance in bed was unsatisfying his soul would flee his body for a more merciful plane of existence, but…Viktor is thicker-skinned than he is. And so here they are. Viktor’s bed is wide and soft, and Yuuri is lying there with wet hair and ratty boxers while Viktor absently trails kisses over his shoulder. It’s nice. It’s soft. It’s good. Viktor’s headboard is enormous and Yuuri keeps thinking about Viktor’s wrists bound to it, black rope over white skin. Fuck. He should say something. (My review: mmm arthritis porn except nuri didn’t give me porn this chapter)

conjecture - seventhstar - @pencilwalla​ - The first is that he and his new husband are now alone, and will continue to be alone until they reach Yu-topia. Yuuri has never been gregarious, and finds it difficult to make prolonged conversation with strangers at parties; he dreads having to speak to Viktor for so many hours. If his aunt’s description of him is accurate, the only thing they have in common is a love for money, and that is hardly wedding night conversation. The second is that when Yuuri finally looks at Viktor, rather than looking anywhere but directly at him as he has been, he realizes that Viktor is… (My review: have i mentioned that i love this series? i have, but.... it’s just,,, so good.)

By Anointment Only - La_Temperanza - @teekettle​ - He starts with the feet.It makes the most sense. After all, a figure skater’s greatest commodity is often their feet, taking the brunt of the damage required to hone their craft. He knows whatever tender loving care he gives now isn't enough to erase years of self-inflicted abuse, not in a single session. But it doesn't mean he's not going to at least try.So, Viktor starts with the feet. But the thing is, he rarely gets much further than that. (My review: FOOT FETISH i hate feet and this story was still a+)

The Katsulanont Guide to Surviving College (Rice Cooker Required) - xylophones - @xyloophones - It’s Phichit’s fault. It’s always Phichit’s fault. (Or: A friendship told through three hamsters, a rice cooker, and the resurrected trade-and-barter system.) (My review: i think i laughed like 3/4 of this story it’s just,,, so in character for them and ridiculous)

Colored Pencils and Markers - RainyTea - @rainyteawrites - Viktor finds Yuuri’s poster collection, but there’s another surprise in there too. (My review: yuuri’s poster collection with a twist ;) ;) loved it)

Wanted: Skating Lessons - slightlied - @forovnix​ - Wanted: Skating Lessons / Hi. I am Victor and I need to learn how to skate before Saturday. My parents have been paying for me to get skating lessons every week for the last fifteen years but I never actually attended any of the lessons and I spent the money on marble busts instead. Now they want me to perform to ‘Stammi Vicino’ at their wedding anniversary on Saturday. / If you can teach me, be here at Ice Castle tomorrow at 7:27am with an extra pair of skates. I am a fast learner (well, at least my dog Makkachin is–it took me only two weeks to teach him how to roll over) so I am pretty sure I will pick it up quickly. In return, I can teach you how to say some pick-up lines in Russian or tell you some facts about my love life. Whichever you prefer. Not both, though. / Yours sincerely,  / Victor / PS. I’m a size 8 --- Or, Yuuri answers an ad he sees on Ice Castle's community board. (My review: THIS WAS PRECIOUS asdfjkl i loved it so much and i know it’s been around for a while but i just found it and like,,, i’m glad i did)

Meet Your Idol! - RoseusJaeger - @roseus-jaeger​ - Ryuugazaki Rei has been a fan of Katsuki Yuuri since he was in grade school, admiring his beauty and grace on the ice. It's Katsuki's last season on the ice before his marriage to Victor Nikiforov and Rei would do anything for an autograph before his official retirement... or at least he thought until his boyfriend, Nagisa Hazuki, actually plots to get him an autograph at the NHK Cup. (My review: what you probably sort of know about me is that i love free! so this was a great read and roseus did so well with all of the character and i loved it)

(Let’s Get Married) At First Sight - cuttlemefish - @cuttlemefishwrites​ - Yuuri is just your average medical resident trying to survive an emergency room rotation at a large, city hospital, when a perfectly gorgeous stranger interrupts his after-work coffee break with the assumption that Yuuri is his blind date. What’s Yuuri to do? – Pretend he’s definitely on a blind date, too! Or, the "I know you're on a blind date and I'm not the right guy, but it's been a while and now I don't know how to tell you that you sat at the wrong table. Call me?" AU. (My review: this is so super precious asfdsljlk i love that yuuri just went for it instead of correcting him)

He Just Up and Ran Away (So I’m Never Going Back) (Ch. 1-2) - cuttlemefish - @cuttlemefishwrites - The back of the silver card reads Fantasies by Lilia, and Viktor lets his thumb brush over it with intense scrutiny. The name on the front winks at him with the glint of danger: Alex. “Oh, Yuuri, are you cheating on me?” Viktor whispers to himself, crumbling on the bed with the onslaught of a panic attack. Yuuri is Viktor’s everything; the first boyfriend he’s had in almost a decade, after years spent too busy lost between circuitry and code. But then he notices that there’s a stack of similar looking cards that read Celeste, Adrian, Robert, Michael, and Yuuri. All of them read Fantasies by Lilia. Or, welcome to the story in which Viktor discovers his boyfriend Yuuri is a high-class escort who takes on different identities and lives for different clients, including Viktor, who thought he was saving a stripper by putting a ring on his finger. (My review: i hvae read like maybe 1 escort au in this fandom bc i’m always very,,, eh about it but i’ll try anything z does nad it’s??? so good)

Katsuki’s Pet Needs (Ch. 1) - nerdlife4eva - @n3rdlif343va - Yuuri Katsuki owns a small pet store in a little town on the coast. He loves running his own business, and especially loves Sundays when his best friend, Phichit, runs adoption events for his animal rescue organization in his store. Victor Nikiforov has always wanted a dog, excitedly attending the scheduled pet adoption hoping to find his first furever friend. Another universe where these two find each other, this time with a little help from the brown fluff of Makkachin herself. (My review: THIS IS VERY PRECIOUS. if you want shameless fluff, read this!!)

Hunter of Eros (Ch. 4-5) - LalodyBear - @lalody - Lord Eros is perhaps the oldest of all living vampires and a legend among hunters. For thousands of years no-one has been able to slay him and stop his evil reign. Victor Nikiforov is the greatest hunter to have ever lived. ~ After seemingly endless sightings of newborn vampires appearing across Japan, Yakov's hunters are sent to put a stop to it. During a hunt, Victor Nikiforov has his first ever innocent witness to a slaying - Yuuri Katsuki, an utterly adorable local. After being cornered into staying with the group of Russian hunters, Yuuri just prays Victor doesn't find out his secret and slay him in his sleep. (My review: ahh it’s been so long since this updated, and i’m so glad i’m patient because i love this au so much. i don’t even care it took so long like ?? take that long always if you’re gonna give me quality content like that (which i’m sure you will))

What I Wrote This Week (7/9-7/16) (nothing on ao3, only tumblr this week)

the latin fic (I’m a shameless classics major)

the headcanon posts (Cary’s excuse to write crack fics while disguising them as headcanons)

the gum fic (#MoreExtraThanExtra)

[suburbiakrp-blog]

WELCOME TO JUKJEON, CHOI NURI !

your place at starvilla 401 is all ready for you, we hope you enjoy your stay. citizens, let’s welcome our new neighborhood sous-chef !

HOW HAS JUKJEON BEEN TREATING YOU THE PAST 2 MONTHS ?

As it’s only been a short period of time since Nuri moved into Jukjeon, she hasn’t cemented a hard opinion. Her stay in the suburb is temporary (or at least, intended to be), just up until she’s saved enough money to rent out her own one-room. The experience so far has been mostly positive, though—she appreciates her sister’s generosity in allowing her to move into a complex as well-maintained as the star villa, free of charge; add to that the charms of the surrounding community, and she’s beginning to reconsider her eventual plans to move back to the city proper. Even so, the work commute to the hills of Seoul’s Seongbuk-gu is a major inconvenience and a true test of her patience, taking up a total of four hours in transit a day (two hours both ways).

TELL US MORE ABOUT YOURSELF !

동태전 Pollock fish cakes

Their hands are swelled digging through groceries—mother’s with age and fatigue, Nuri’s with fat and blood and the blooming of red and blue around her knuckles. She’d thrown punches harder that day than ever, bloodying two noses and earning two classmates trips to the school infirmary, making too much noise when she returned home in the evening, backpack buckles and zippers clattering against wood. But now, with her hands wrapped tight around the neck of this slippery fish and gaze boring into the critter’s own dead eyes, Nuri thinks that maybe they had it coming for them all this time.

Mother asks her to crack and beat four eggs into the large bowl, and she wordlessly obliges, whacking them against the counter and relishing in each egg’s slimy exit from its shell. Her hands are still hot with indignation, remembering their impact against skin, bone against cartilage. Without thinking twice, Nuri submerges them into the bowl of eggs and lets the cold whites engulf her chubby hands. She stretches her fingers open, combing through mucus, then crushes the egg yolks as she balls them back into fists.

Mother comes over with a quizzical expression and chopsticks in tow. “Nuri? Use these instead, please.”

삼양라면 Samyang ramen

“Is the water boiled?”

“Got it right here.” Brian unlatches the electric kettle from its base and pours straight into the pot. They stand over the stove until the water reaches a rolling boil again.

“So you were saying.”

“Oh, right.” Funny that what began as a simple offhand comment about their youth pastor’s lopsided toupée and a mutual, deep-seated misanthropy (that their Bible-flipping peers found blasphemous and in poor taste) kicked off this series of kitchen confessionals. He crosses one foot over the other. “So Paul posts this thing, this super obnoxious thing. Lists every single school he got into, doesn’t spare us any details.” Then, a taunting reenactment, “Harvard, Yale, Columbia, Penn, Stanford, UVA, Berkeley, UCLA. It’s been such a journey! Can’t wait to see what the future holds in store!”

“Ew.”

“Right. And here I am, feeling shitty about myself.”

“Fuck that guy.” She flips the noodles over, then lodges her chopsticks into the center to loosen the block up. “But hey, Brown’s a great school.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t my first choice.”

“Yeah, but it’s still a great school.” She prods at the noodles again before dropping in an egg and giving it all a loose stir. “I’d be lucky if any place takes me.”

“Aw, come on. You’re doing way better now, no?”

“I guess.”

She’s a good kid, most of the time.

Gone are the days of disciplinary complaints and phone calls from hysterical mothers demanding justice for their innocent children, what could they have possibly done do to deserve this. The kids leave her alone here and she keeps to herself more often than not.

She comes home from school now at two-thirty on the dot. It’s homework from then until dinner, followed by dish washing after the family’s finished and dad’s halfway to inebriation upstairs. With Nayoung off at college, she has the television to herself—she sticks to the tube for the next hour or so. After that, it’s back to homework and lights out by midnight. The routine that settles is incapacitating. She becomes complacent, perhaps sped up by the fact that her own parents don’t recognize the change in her once zealous disposition; they’re much too caught up in their own self-pity, staring longingly at the documents piling up on the kitchen counter.

Nuri turns the gas off and pours the ramen into two bowls, careful that neither receives a drop of soup more than the other. “Honestly, though? I don’t think school’s for me.”

A pause. “Maybe not. That’s okay, too.”

“Yeah, but…” She tops off each bowl with a generous helping of scallions and two drops of sesame oil. “… I don’t know what I’d do if I don’t go.” She hands him his share and he slurps up a mouthful.

Brian’s expression suddenly softens. It’s not the first time she’s seen this look.

“Maybe cook?” He helps himself to the soup this time, and his eyebrows narrow and angle like blades. “There’s a school with a great culinary program next to Brown.”

Johnson and Wales. I know. “It’s just ramen.” Nuri feels a slow burn in her ears.

“No, no, really. Ramen aside, your stuff is better than all of the ahjummas’ here.”

“Shut up.”

Brian grins, all white. “Just go and cook for me until you’ve figured out a better plan.”

A grumble. “Shut up and eat.”

소보로덮밥 Soboro rice

The peak of summer is here, Nuri thinks, stray hairs sticking like seaweed on her forehead as she departs from the neighborhood butcher’s.

She’s never been much of a sentimental person. But somehow, hovering over a wooden cutting board with a pound of chicken thighs at the mercy of her carbon steel knife and an unfamiliar, stinging wetness in her eyes, Nuri is forced to reconsider.

(“Is that what I think it is?”

“Maybe. Probably.”)

The meat is pounded away—flattened and pulverized and minced into an unshapely mass that she relegates to the side after a quick sprinkling of salt and pepper. She turns on the stove, smell of lighter fluid tart in the air before the flames cut in to warm the pan. She beats a few eggs together with sugar and a dash of cooking wine, then pours the mixture over and gives them a light scramble. She boils Chinese broccoli in a pot of salted water, sends it to an ice bath, then wrings out the excess moisture. And then she cooks the ground chicken, letting it sizzle in a sweet medley of soy and ginger, prodding and separating until the meat spreads across the pan into inconspicuous pieces.

(“The three color-palette always gets to me, you know. It’s so simple, so perfect.”

“Shut up and eat.”)

The rice cooker sounds just as Hyesu buzzes in.

“Smells great,” Hyesu says, moving fluidly out of her silk blazer. Everything is as it should be, and Nuri undresses her down to the last stitch, as she always does—gently-sloped chest, mischievous turn of the lips, and orderly, correct teeth. Hyesu plants a quick peck on her cheek before taking her place at the table. “Thanks for the food, babe.”

Nuri watches her dig in, smile slowly finding its way.

잣죽 Pine nut porridge

She scoops the last of the heated porridge into a bowl, milky white offset by the pellets of nuts that dot the surface. Her phone stays on the countertop, and she listens to the breathing on the other end, the sound of passing traffic, faint whirs of movement and the low rumble of car engines beyond a steady crunching of dead foliage. “Leftovers?” The voice on the other end crackles.

“Yup.” Nuri replies. “What’s your ETA?”

“Two minutes, just sit tight.” The clacking of heels against pavement is suddenly more pronounced. “Did you call mom today?”

“I did,” Nuri chucks her utensils into the sink and picks up last month’s issue on interiors, thumbing through the glossy pages with a lazy gaze and keen disinterest. “We only talked for a bit, though. Seems like she’s still busy figuring out the logistics on the new house. What a shitshow.”

Nayoung laughs. “Wonder if we’re even welcome there.”

“Maybe not.”

“Maybe not. But she seems a lot happier. Kind of makes me wish dad would find someone too. We could find a willing widow to set him up with since he’s so close by. He’s certainly not getting any younger.”

“Neither are you, sis.”

“Please, not you too.”

“Kidding, kidding. You’re doing great. Don’t need anyone to tell you how to live your life.”

“Thanks, kiddo—I can only say the same for you. Looking forward to dinner!”

“Hurry up, now.”