#which honestly has slowly made me realize how difficult it is to find characters WITH these scars that aren't simply something from a slice

[agriocnemis]

ngl guys, I think people should be normal about all types of scars. I don't mean as in a "who cares?" I mean it as a literal statement of "it is simply part of what makes a person".

It's difficult to find a lot of media that actually treats people with VERY visible scars that are further than something small or overly dramatic. there's rarely any in-betweens, and that really does suck to grow up around if you grow up with scars being next to never being shown on people other than villains.

Zuko is honestly a great example of a visible face scar in particular being treated well, and I can't ever really think of any other major character that just simply has scarring as part of them in really anything else that doesn't make it weird or extremely simplified and small.

But using him as an example alone only shows burn scars than the various types of scarring. One I rarely see is noticeable bite scars, and it slightly bothers me how rare it is to find one that actually is on the face.

Brightheart from Warriors is honestly one of the only characters I can remember that simply has it like that, but hers is far less accurate and just honestly on a far more extreme side of what bite scars can be like. and this isn't even a human character, this is a cat. She is a good example of how people act differently towards you due to simply how you look though and adapting to it, even if it’s harsh. (and not the best written)

It really does suck that a lot of time the scars that are shown positively or most often are specifically ones from a sliced wound vs piercing, blunt, tearing & burns(etc) that aren't usually shown further than a couple of characters in common larger media once in a blue moon.

please do make characters with scars, look into different scar types and mess around with them, don't be afraid to make characters with scars that aren't immediately visible or noticeable. scars are simply part of people's bodies and should be acknowledged as something to treat fairly.

Please don't just stop at drawing scars from things like slice wounds. I truly do mean it when it can help some people's confidence if they see or are able to find scars similar to theirs on even someone's own character.

[yandere-romanticaa]

Honestly I love the idea of dabi gaslighting you into being crazy for him, because it mixed the two camps yandere dabi gets written as, the first being cruel and awful with darling as a plaything, the second being softer with darling as a fragile doll. Personally I think it's a little bit of both, because Dabi is no where near a good man, but the idea he'd completely abuse darling just the way his father did to his mom, seems to hypocritical. Instead framing it like Dabi hates the vulnerability but sorting accepting it hatches a plan where if he can slowly but surely convince you that you are the crazy one, you somehow need him, that you'll need him and that's more stable than love and when he's that insurance he can trust you enough to be softer and all you'll be is grateful. It mixes his love with the awful means he chooses to take it, since he can't be vulnerable enough to trust love but taking it is what a villain can do

I just can't see him as the 100% sadistic bastard which some fics portray him to be. While I do agree that sadism would be a big aspect of his character, there would be times when he would just. Hold you. Cling onto you.

It's weird when it happens for the first time. You've been alone for a few days and then Dabi is home. He kicks off his shoes and wordlessly makes his way towards you. He reeks of ash and blood but you find it difficult to focus on that when you feel the scorching feeling of his arms enveloping your frame.

You still as Dabi gently rests his forehead against the crook of your neck. You feel the staples of his marred flesh against your own as he uncharacteristically inhales your scent.

"...I missed you." he mumbles in a tone so quiet that if he weren't sitting so close you could have sworn that you made it up. As much as he makes fun of you, Dabi loves your fragility. He loves just how easy you are to break but he has the fire power to ensure your safety. The thought makes him giddy like a schoolboy but he's sure not to show it.

His glee would give you an inkling of power over him. He doesn't want that.

As time goes on, it starts becoming hard to judge Dabi properly as a person. You slowly unveil the truth over the ages you spend with him and, to be frank, you are lost at how you ought to see him.

It really is his father's fault for turning out the way he did. The man hardly ever spoke about his feelings but one evening a fuse broke and he told you everything. Your horrified reactions only added more fuel to his hatred as you held him in your arms, by your own volition for once. He proudly boasted how he lost the ability to cry ages ago but the pools of blood leaking out of his eyes told you a different story. The scarlet liquid stained your white t-shirt, the splotches a grave reminder of this evening.

In that moment, you were not speaking to Dabi but rather the lost little boy who could never be good enough. He made your heart swell with all sorts of colorful feelings.

By the time he fell asleep, you were still wide awake, terror running rampant in your heart with the realization that you started to fall for your captor.

And in no time, Dabi picked that fact up. Let me tell you, it made his life so much easier.

Whenever he wanted to prove a point he would just thug at your heartstrings and make you feel like a fool. He has done so much for you, is this how you are going to repay him? Depending on the severity of the fight he might threaten to burn you, but that would be a last resort.

Dabi would like to keep you in one piece, thank you very much.

He is awful and he knows it. But he's just gone too far, he is too attached to you. If you were to ever leave, he would simply go haywire. It has gotten to the point where he needs you like air but you will not have a single clue about that.

The less you know, the better.

[mint-yooxgi]

{10} - Paradise Gardens - Yandere!Demonic Entities!Ateez X Reader

Yandere AU & Demon AU - Book Two to Hotel California

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Slight Humour

Pairing: Ateez X Reader (Focus on San, and slight focus on Hongjoong, and a bit of Yeosang at the end)

Words: 11,371

Warnings: Mental Illness. PTSD: mentions of past trauma and violence, anxiety, depression. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: I honestly wasn't expecting for this chapter to even be a thing, but I think it's much needed in terms of plot and character development, so I really hope you all enjoy it! Plus, Wooyoung smut next chapter~ 👀 As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~

Also, gentle reminder that I don’t do tag lists.

Mini Masterlist - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine

Standing just outside the entrance to the garden, there’s a certain intensity that lingers on your features. Your eyes remain fixated on the golden handles, practically glaring down at them as your brows furrow in concentration. A slight frown pulls at your lips, but still, you, nor the doors, move.

“Practicing your telekinesis, Baby?” A soft chuckle sounds from behind you.

You blink, but do not respond, opting to continue staring intently at the handles of the door.

“I think Jongho’s blood has long since left your system.” San steps in beside you, amusement tugging his lips upwards in the corners. “Besides, I’m not sure if it would even be capable of giving you such a power.”

“It’s not that,” you sigh, finally shifting your gaze from the door and towards your feet.

Immediately, concern is pulling at his features as his one hand finds purchase on your lower back. “Then, what is it?”

You spare a glance at him out of the corner of your eyes, your shoulders deflating all the while. It’s been two days since Jongho made a full recovery, you having pulled him out of the veil between worlds. You thought it would be a good idea to slowly reintroduce yourself to certain places in the house, but unfortunately, you seem to be having some difficulties. Perhaps starting with the garden was not the wisest decision.

“You’ve been glaring at the door to the garden for the past twenty minutes.” San says, his thumb gently stroking against your back. “If you’re not ready, don’t force yourself-“

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready, San.” Your voice is small, but you still manage to cut him off. “There’s not really a good timeline I can follow. I just don’t want her to have a hold on me any longer. It’s not fair to any of us.”

He smiles assuringly at you. “I understand.”

“I just didn’t realize how difficult it would be.” Again, you avert your gaze to your feet.

“I’m right here, Baby.” His fingers press the slightest bit firmer into your back. “I won’t let anything hurt you. I promise.”

Raising your head, you spare him a small smile. Subconsciously, you lean into his touch.

“What brings you to the garden, anyways?” You decide a slight change in subject might help distract you.

“Me?” His eyebrows quirk upwards slightly. “I came to check on my plants.”

Your eyes widen in genuine surprise. “Your plants?”

“Yes.” He grins, a slight chuckle falling from his lips. “My plants.”

At your quizzical look, he’s quick to shift his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer into his side.

“Fruits, vegetables, you name it,” he tells you. “I grow them all.”

“Really?” 

There’s a genuine curiosity in your voice that he hasn’t heard for quite some time now, which only makes his smile widen. “Would you like to see?”

At your eager nod, San shifts forward, opening the door to the garden and helping you step through the threshold. His arm never leaves your body for one second, guiding you through the flowers and to the greenhouse in the back corner.

You don’t realize how tense you become as soon as you step foot into the garden, but San does. Your eyes flit every which way, taking in all of the details of the once decimated space and noticing how everything looks exactly as it did before Miyeon destroyed it. There’s even a few different types of flowers blooming around the place now, including snapdragons and hyacinths.

Your breath hitches in your throat.

The moment your sight lands on that sparkling fountain in the centre of the garden, you stop breathing. You haven’t even realized that you’ve frozen to your spot, planting your feet firmly on the ground as you stare at that mass monument before you. Only when you see San stepping in front of you, gently guiding your gaze to his own do you register the sudden way your chest heaves with shallow breaths, the male cooing to you all the while.

“It’s okay, Baby.” He assures you lowly, noting the way your gaze continually wants to dart passed him and back to the fountain behind him. 

“Hey, hey, look at me.” His hold is gentle on your arms as he stands before you, and that’s when you realize that you can no longer hear the sound of trickling water echoing throughout the space.

The water hovers there, as if frozen in time, yet not solid like ice. It is suspended in a state of limbo, and you just know that the male standing before you has everything to do with it.

“Just keep your eyes on me, Baby.” He begins to slowly walk backwards, guiding you through the garden and past the fountain. “I’ve got you. I promise nothing will harm you here again.”

You keep your eyes locked on his, the soft brown of his irises peering out at you through a concerned brow.

“That’s it,” gently, he encourages you. “We’re almost there.”

It’s brief, but you still manage to nod. Your breathing seems to be evening out, too.

“You’re doing so well, Baby.” His voice is tender, his hands sliding down your arms in order to hold your own in his. He squeezes them softly. “Just keep your eyes on me.”

Again, you nod, swallowing lightly as you reach the greenhouse.

Shifting both of your hands to his right one, San reaches behind him with the greatest of ease to open the door to the greenhouse. He doesn’t even need to look behind him as he guides you inside, giving your hands another small reassuring squeeze as the door falls shut quietly behind you.

“There,” he smiles. “Safe and sound.”

You smile weakly in return.

“That wasn’t so bad, now, was it?” He gently shakes you hands still held in his own.

“No,” you take a deep breath, the smell of crisp apples, along with various other fruits greeting your senses almost immediately. “I suppose not.”

“I’m so proud of you, Baby.” San’s voice is but a whisper as he brings a hand up to cup the side of your face.

Your eyes flutter shut, leaning into his touch more than you realize.

“Thank you, San.” You breathe out, heart rate finally returning to normal the more time you spend with him like this. “It may not have been perfect for my first try, but I’m glad you’re with me.”

“Of course, Baby,” his thumb strokes tenderly over your cheek. “I will always be here for you; I’m glad I could help.”

A brief silence settles over the both of you as you let the moment linger. Your breathing evens out, shoulders relaxing as he continues to observe you carefully.

“So,” you blink a few times in mild curiosity, attempting not to let your gaze wander too much. “Your plants?”

“Ah, right!” His whole demeanour perks up. “What would you like to see first?”

“Anything and everything you wish to show me.”

The smile that stretches across his face lights up the whole greenhouse. Gently, he shifts his hand back into your own, pulling you along with him as he guides you through a space which appears much larger on the inside than the outside. Certain plants are grouped together based on climate and soil conditions, and you notice the slightest changes in temperature around them. It’s as if those particular sections are weather controlled to be different than the others around them.

Looks like their magic runs deeper than you could have ever imagined.

“I’ve always grown the basics,” he explains, leading you through his vegetable garden. “Sometimes it changes depending on the season, or what we all feel like having, but I always have tomatoes, lettuce, spinach, carrots, zucchini, cucumbers, and bell peppers.”

San takes a moment to crouch down in front of his tomato plants, running his fingers gently over the leaves and pruning a few while he’s at it. Softly, he coos to the fruit, and the small encouragements he seems to give the plants makes you smile.

“How long have you had them?” Your awe filled gaze sweeps over the produce before you, taking in the vibrance of their leaves and the quantity of their fruit.

“Ever since I got into cooking,” he explains, watching you fondly. “So, my whole life.”

“Wow,” you breathe, turning to face him once more. “You’re incredible, Baby!”

Immediately, a vibrant blush begins to creep up his neck, settling onto his cheeks as he stutters in his spot.

“I understand why you have such a vendetta against grocery store produce now,” you chuckle fondly. “You’ve been spoiled with fresh, homegrown food since the beginning.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” he grins. “Just wait until you see the orchard.”

Your entire body freezes, lips parting in mild shock. You blink a few times, the corners of your lips slowly tugging upwards. “You mean to tell me that there’s an orchard inside this greenhouse?”

He nods proudly. “Follow me.”

Again, San gently guides you towards the back of the building, and you notice how there seems to be a separate section placed off to the side. The whole building seems to be shaped like an ‘L’, large windows spanning either side. As soon as you round the corner, the greenhouse opens up into a vast space, all different types of plants continuing to span the area.

“There’s almost one of each kind in their respective rows, but some of the fruit trees we have to make special visitations for.” He explains.

“Special visitations?” You repeat, taking in the large orange tree in front of you.

“Unfortunately, not all plants can be acclimatized to our greenhouse.” A slight frown tugs at his features. “I’m working on making sure they can be, but for now, we have special farms I usually like to visit to get those specific products I’m missing.”

Realization crosses your features. “That’s still really cool.”

“You think so?” He grins, his eyes crinkling at the sides. “I mean, not all the trees in the orchard here are mine, per se.”

You tilt your head at him in inquiry.

“Joong would probably murder me if I touched his lemon tree.” San says. “Well, other than when I harvest the fruit to be used in a recipe. He can never say no to lemon squares.”

“Hongjoong has a lemon tree?” Your eyes scan the rows, seeing a large plant with vibrant yellow fruit hanging from its branches a little ways down the row you’re currently standing in.

“Yes.” San confirms with a nod. “Yeosang grows his own jalapeños, too. Hwa and Yunho are very adamant about caring for the various berries we grow, but I have a few favourites of my own.”

“What are your favourites, then?” The way you look at him, with wide eyes filled with nothing but curiosity, sets his heart racing.

He smiles. “I’ll show you.”

Leading you down the path with a spring to his step, San takes only a single right turn before stopping before a somewhat smaller tree than all the others.

“This one’s a little newer than the rest, but I’ve grown quite fond of it recently.” His eyes trail over the tree in front of him.

Large fruit hang heavily from the branches, very particular in shape. Their pastel pink skin fades into hues of white and orange, soft fuzz coating the sides.

“Peaches?” Your voice is nothing short of tender as you focus on him standing beside you. 

“I’ve taken a fond liking to them recently.” He hums.

“You don’t say,” you grin, almost knowingly. 

A moment later, and your gaze is shifting around the area, noting the other fruit hanging from the branches around you. 

A gasp escapes you as you excitedly waddle over to the tree right before your very eyes, the fruit hanging in abundance in vibrant shades of red, yellow, and green. “Mangos?”

A fond chuckle escapes the male as he walks up beside you. “Would you like one?”

No verbal response is needed. Not when you eagerly shake your head, turning your awe filled gaze to stare deeply into his own eyes.

Your whole body practically vibrates in excitement, gaze darting from one fruit to the next. You can practically smell the aroma drifting through the branches, and it makes you smile instantaneously.

Softly, San reaches out before you and plucks a fruit fresh from the branch, tracing his thumb over the side of its skin. Carefully, he takes your hand back into one of his own, placing the fruit delicately into your palm as he smiles.

The wonder filled look you wear means everything to him in this moment. The fact that he can see your lips part, eyes shining with nothing but adoration sets his heart racing.

“I love mangos.” You admit, voice nothing but a tender caress to his ears.

“So I’ve heard,” he smiles, chest warming at the way your hands hold onto that fruit so delicately right now. “Mingi enjoys raiding them for smoothies.”

“And he didn’t invite me…” you click your tongue, shaking your head in mock disapproval.

“To be fair, he had been pestering me for a mango tree for quite a long time before I finally gave in.” He admits, dragging the sole of his foot against the ground as he averts his gaze.

“Did you-“ you blink, heart skipping a beat as realization settles over you. “Did you start growing these for me?”

“Of course, Baby,” he confirms, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you into his side. “I started growing quite a few things for you, especially once I learnt that you enjoy fresh fruit so much.”

Your entire being warms, nothing but fondness flooding your veins as you rest your head gently on his shoulder. Your eyes flutter shut as you breathe out a content sigh, “I don’t deserve you.”

“Nonsense, Baby.” Almost immediately, he shakes his head, completely appalled by your words. “You deserve everything I have to offer, and so much more.”

“I meant it in the sense that you’re too good to me,” you chuckle, wrapping your free arm around his own. “I can’t think of a single person that I know of who can say that their lover started growing specific fruits just for them.”

“Of course I would,” his reply is immediate. “Only the best for My Baby.”

A content hum escapes you. “I appreciate that, Sannie.” A pause. “I appreciate you.”

He shifts closer, turning to place a gentle kiss onto the side of your head. “I love you, Baby.”

You smile, sinking further into his side as you feel yourself fully relax. “I love you, My Aquaman.”

You don’t even need to look at him to know a large, giddy smile stretches across his features from your words. You can feel it just in the way his whole body shakes lightly in happiness beside you. Although it’s faint, you swear you can also hear his heartbeat thundering beneath his skin.

A sense of calm washes over the both of you as he leads you back to the main area of the greenhouse. Wordlessly, he places a tender kiss onto your cheek before somewhat reluctantly pulling away from you to begin tending to his plants. You, on the other hand, sit yourself nearby, watching him fondly as he begins to work.

“So, you’ve been cooking all your life?” Your legs begin to swing back and forth as you rest that mango beside you on top of the table you’re currently sitting on.

“For as long as I can remember, yes.” He confirms, pruning his plants lightly. “It came quite naturally to me. Plus, my powers always help make it easier.”

“What’s your favourite thing to cook?” You observe him eagerly.

He spares a glance over his shoulder, the corner of his lips quirking upwards softly. “Anything My Baby desires.”

“San!” You laugh, shaking your head lightheartedly. “I’m being serious!”

“So am I.” He hums, shifting on to the next plant in the row. “Though, if I have to choose, I do enjoy cooking old family recipes. It’s always nice to discover how tastes have changed and been passed on with each new generation.”

“How many unique family recipes do you know, then?” Your ankles are crossed as your hands support you on either side of the table.

“Oh, probably over a few hundred thousand.” He replies, nonchalantly. “Give or take.”

Your jaw drops, “That’s incredible!”

“It’s nothing.” He shrugs, the tips of his ears turning red.

“You should teach me sometime.”

The statement you make is casual, but it still causes San to freeze in his spot, nearly dropping the dead leaves he’s gathered in his one hand. 

Slowly, he turns to face you, nothing but hope shining within his gaze. “You really mean that?”

“Of course I do, Baby.” Your legs finally still as you smile down at him. “I would love to cook with you, and besides, you shouldn’t have to prepare all of the meals. I want to make things for you and the other guys from time to time, too.”

In the blink of an eye, he’s before you, his hands on either side of your body as the pile of dead leaves now rests on top of the table. They appear almost as if they’ve been thrown haphazardly across the surface, his whole body trembling as he clings onto the edge for dear life.

“You want to cook for me?” His voice is small, hopeful as he tilts his head downwards, avoiding your eyes for the moment.

“I can’t promise it’ll be as good as your own food, but I would like to at some point; yes.” You nod once, quite firmly at that.

“Baby,” he swallows thickly, and his gaze says it all.

Nothing but love for you is seen in his eyes, which are shining with unshed tears. His lips are slightly parted, tongue darting out to wet them as his arms continue to shake as he holds himself steady against the edge of the table. Softly, his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, his heart racing uncontrollably in his chest.

“My baking is a little better than my cooking, but-“

You don’t even get to finish your thought, for his arms are around you, pulling you flush against his chest. A sob wracks his chest, tears of unfiltered joy falling onto your shoulder as he holds you close.

Gently, you card your fingers through his hair, holding onto him just as tightly as he clings to you.

“I didn’t realize you’d have this type of reaction,” you chuckle, rubbing his back comfortingly with your free hand.

“It just means a lot to me,” his voice is low as he mumbles the words against your neck. “More than you’ll ever know.”

Tenderly, you press your lips onto the side of his head. “I know how much you love cooking, San. I would be honoured to be able to share in that passion with you.”

His grip tightens ever so slightly as he nuzzles his face into the side of your neck. This is everything he’s ever wanted, and so much more. Finally, he can share his passion of doing what he loves with the person that he loves most in this world. Something he’s always longed to do.

“Just, don’t tell my mom.” You joke, watching as he pulls away to glance into your eyes.

“Why not?” His brow furrows.

“She’s been trying to teach me how to properly cook for years.” The corner of your lips quirks upwards. “I always told her that I was fine on my own.”

“Did you, now?” He quirks a brow playfully.

“I know how to follow a recipe, boil water, and cook eggs.” You shrug. “That’s all I’ve ever needed before.”

A dramatic hand is placed over his heart. “Oh, Baby, you hurt me so.”

“I’m not that bad a cook,” you roll your eyes teasingly. “I can cook, I just choose not to.”

“Which will make us cooking together all the more special.” He hums, eyes crinkling at the sides as he smiles at you.

“Exactly.” You loop your arms around his shoulders. “I want to spend more time with the people I love, doing what they love to do.”

“Oh?” His brow quirks, a certain mischievous gleam suddenly shining within his eyes. “Don’t say that, Baby. We’d be tempted to never let you leave your bed again.”

Your back straightens, a heat blooming on your cheeks as you slap his arm playfully. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know, Baby.” He chuckles. “You’re just so pretty when you get flustered.”

“And you’re very handsome when you’re excited about something.” You grin. “So, I guess we’re even.”

He returns your smile. “I guess so.”

Sliding your hands to rest on his shoulders, you give them a firm squeeze. A sense of calm passes over the both of you, his own grip finding purchase on your waist.

“Shouldn’t you be tending to your plants?” You quirk a brow teasingly.

“I could,” he hums, “but that would mean spending less time with you.”

“I wasn’t planning on going anywhere anytime soon,” you poke his cheek affectionately, watching as that dimple of his appears almost instantly.

“Well, if I did things like I normally do, I’d be done in a flash.” He says. “Doing this by hand will most certainly take me longer, meaning you can spend more time with me.”

“How you normally do things?” You tilt your head curiously.

“It’s quite easy to manipulate plants once you get the hang of both the oxygen and water they consist of.” He explains.

Your eyes widen, lips parting in awe.

“There are still aspects of us and our powers you have yet to see,” he winks, a smug grin tugging at his features.

“So I’ve been told,” you exhale somewhat breathlessly. “And just how do you normally do things?”

A light squeeze to your waist is all you receive before San steps to the side. Gently, he takes your one hand in his as he motions to the tomato plants in front of you.

“Watch closely.” His voice is low right by your ear as he leans into your side.

Fixating your gaze on the one plant he’s yet to prune, a gasp escapes you as you see the leaves beginning to sway. Carefully, the dead leaves separate from the plant, moisture collecting on the fruit almost instantly before sliding downwards. The droplets seem to gather in one place before floating in the air and moving to the next fruit, doing the same in succession.

A gentle breeze drifts passed, and you catch the faintest scent of peaches in the air this time.

“I use the moisture in the air to mist them, and then depending on the plant, the excess water is given back to the soil for the roots.” San’s voice is gentle, a fond look resting on his features as he takes in your expression of pure wonder once more.

“That’s amazing!” You squeeze his hand, whole body practically vibrating in excitement. “You’re incredible, Baby!”

“It’s nothing,” he attempts to shrug you off again, despite the vibrant blush creeping up his neck.

“So, then,” you stand back onto your feet, walking over to observe the tomatoes he’s just tended to. “How long does this usually take you?”

“Minutes at most,” he replies, eyes shining as he watches you crouch beside the plant. “Seconds at best.”

“Wow.” You blink up at him in awe before pushing yourself back to your feet. “So, you were only doing it manually today to spend more time with me?”

“I figured you could use the distraction,” he shrugs. “Besides, I wanted to impress you, and show off my greenhouse.”

“Well, it worked.” You nudge him gently with your shoulder. “Count me impressed on all parts.”

“I guess it’s a bonus I got to show you this, too.” He hums, nudging you back.

“I’m always interested in spending time with you, regardless of what we’re doing.” You admit softly. Then, just as tenderly, “I’m always interested in you.”

A low, pleased rumble shakes his chest.

“The feeling will always be mutual, Baby.” His voice is but a whisper as he pulls you into his arms.

“Well then, why don’t you finish up here, and then we can go bake something together.” You hum. “I’ve been meaning to make those cookies Reina mentioned when she saw the two kitchens the other day. Those are probably the only things I know how to bake off the top of my head recipe wise.”

“She was supposed to send me the instructions for how to make those.” San grumbles under his breath.

“I think she lied,” you smile lightly. “She only makes them for certain occasions.”

“Like what?” His brow furrows.

“When I need a pick me up.” You reply, stepping away from him lightly. “She only taught me how to make them after-“ the words catch in your throat as your expression falls. “I think I know why she mentioned them this time around.”

“Reina knows?” His brow furrows slightly, worry shining in his eyes as he watches your whole visage drop.

“Reina can be very perceptive when she wants to be.” You say, a small sigh escaping your lips. “Especially when it comes to me. We practically know each other better than we know ourselves.”

“I thought your sister was the only one that knew?” San frowns slightly.

“Reina figured it out, so I told her.” Your one hand comes up to rub at the side of your arm. “She knew- knows about my mental health probably better than anyone, my sister included.”

“She’s a good friend.” He observes.

“Yeah.” You smile, a soft nod to your head. “She is.”

“Alright, Baby,” San gently cups the side of your face, brushing his thumb tenderly against your cheek. “Why don’t you meet me in the kitchen, then? I’ll finish up here, cut up that mango for you, and then we can make those cookies together. How does that sound?”

You begin to nod. “Okay.”

A wide smile is all that you receive in response as you turn back to the table you had just been sitting on. It takes nothing to grab that fresh mango in your hand once more, turning to exit the greenhouse in the next second.

“Baby,” San’s somewhat urgent call of your name causes you to turn back to face him. “Will you be okay in the garden on your own?”

Warmth blooms in your chest at the care he continues to extend towards you.

“I will be.” You nod, somewhat firmly. Though, at the worried look he sends your way, you smile reassuringly at him. “I promise to call you if I need you. So, please, San, take your time.”

“Alright, Baby,” he breathes out a low sigh. “I’ll be right there.”

A final nod is all you give him as you turn back towards the greenhouse door. You can feel his eyes watching you the whole time as you take your leave, pausing only briefly to take a deep breath before exit the building once and for all.

The first thing you hear as soon as you shut the door behind you is the trickling of that fountain. You can smell the sweet aroma of the flowers drifting through the air, and it offers you comfort as you keep your back turned to the scenery behind you. The whole time, a small mantra of ‘nothing can hurt you now’ and ‘you’re okay’ runs through your head, taking deep breaths to help steady yourself for the time being.

You can get through this.

She cannot hurt you anymore. You won’t let her.

Turning around, you face the garden.

For a moment, you do not move. That single mango is clutched lightly in your hand as you swallow thickly, taking in every detail of the garden before you like the very first time. Again, you can see the meticulous detail that has gone into every aspect of this space. 

A space designed for you. 

For you and only you.

This is yours. You won’t let her take what this space means away from you, or them for that matter.

You take a small step forward.

The bench where you had that lovely talk with Hongjoong that one day still rests to the side. The foliage is a bit thicker than all those months ago, though. There seems to be a few symbols now carved into the wood, and you just know in your gut that they’re there for your protection.

You take another step.

There are all of the peonies, lilies, roses, and forget-me-nots lining the same path you took the very first time Hongjoong showed you this place. Stepping in beside them now, you lean over to take in their scents just as you did before, letting those better memories replace the single bad one.

Finally, you acknowledge the fountain.

Turning to face the sparkling water, you watch as it shines, trickling down each level of the carved stones. Despite your best efforts, your gaze flits to the very spot Miyeon held you down upon, submerging your head beneath the crisp, crystal clear liquid until your lungs burned for air.

You swallow thickly.

Blinking a few times, you step in closer.

She’s not here, but you are. You are still breathing. Despite everything she did to you that day, you are the one that emerged alive on the other end.

You sit on the edge of the fountain.

It’s a little difficult to keep your breathing under control, but you know that you need to do this for your sake. You’ve always been a very logic driven person, and doing this will prove to yourself once and for all that you are okay. Not only are you proving that she can no longer hurt you, but that these places have always been, and will always be safe. She was the one anomaly that caused you harm, not the fountain itself.

You close your eyes, allowing the sounds and scents of the garden to overflow your senses and lull you into a sense of security just as they’ve always done. This space has always offered you comfort, and you allow it to do so once more now.

With each passing second, you begin to relax more and more.

“Baby?” A somewhat tentative call of your name causes your eyes to flutter open to see San standing at the entrance to the garden. He takes a small step towards you. “When I couldn’t find you in either kitchen, I got worried.”

“I’m okay, San.” You breathe out, lifting your gaze to meet his concerned one. “I needed to do this.”

Carefully, he sits beside you on the edge of the fountain.

You look down at your hands, watching your thumb gently trace over the skin of that mango still held in your grip.

“I don’t want her to taint what this place means to me any longer.” Your voice is soft, barely above a whisper, yet he still manages to hear you loud and clear. “She doesn’t get that satisfaction. I’m not going to let her make me fear my own home.”

His expression softens, reaching out to grasp one of your hands in his own.

A moment of silence.

“It hurt, San.” You swallow thickly, squeezing your eyes shut as you feel the beginnings of tears stinging at the corners. “I thought my lungs were going to burst from how badly they were burning inside my chest.”

His free hand comes up to rest gently on your back as he shifts closer to you, nothing but concern in his gaze as he watches you break down right in front of him.

“I thought, ‘this is the end.’” You admit lowly, and you feel the way he stiffens beside you. Your grip tightens in your lap. “I wanted it to be the end.”

A soft call of your name escapes him as no more than a worried breath.

“As much as I wanted to live that day, I still have no idea how I survived as long as I did.” The confession weighs heavy on your shoulders, eyes blank as you stare at the cobblestone path beneath your feet. A brief flash of that conversation with Wyno the other day passes through your mind. “I should have died. I think a part of me did die.”

This time, it’s his turn to swallow thickly.

“I just don’t think I wanted to acknowledge it until now.” You finally look up to meet his gaze, the first of your tears sliding down the side of your cheeks. “Yet, I’m still here,” you smile weakly, “and I’m glad that I am.”

The hand that had been resting on your back comes up to cup the side of your face.

“I don’t know how long it will take me to get better, but it’s time for me to stop hiding my pain and pretending that everything is okay.” You lean over to rest your head against his shoulder. “I didn’t realize what I needed to do before, but today has really helped. I think I had just been avoiding it, honestly.” You swallow the sudden dryness in your throat. “Thank you, San, for being patient with me, and for always being there.”

A small smile is sent your way, his arm wrapping around your waist to pull you in closer to his side.

“I’m here for you, Baby. Always.” He rests his head on top of your own as his voice drops to a mere whisper. “I’m sorry you had to suffer at her hands. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you like I promised I would.”

You feel a tear land on top of your head, but with how firmly he’s holding onto you, you do not dare move. He needs this just as much as you do right now.

“Not a day passes by where I don’t blame myself for what she did to you.”

“San-“

“Please, Baby, I need to get this off my chest.” His voice is strained.

You remain silent, shifting the slightest bit closer to him in response.

“We all have regrets about that day: leaving you by yourself, not taking even a minute to think when Stella came to get us, letting you get that hurt.” He takes a deep, stuttering breath inwards. “For all of our powers, we couldn’t even sense her breaking through our wards. The moment we got back to discover you like that, our entire world stopped. I thought to myself, ‘this can’t be happening. This isn’t real.’”

He tightens his grip subconsciously around you.

“And when you told us everything she did to you…” his eyes squeeze shut, vivid images of your beaten and battered body filling his vision as more tears fall. “If I could have subjected her to an endless hell where her suffering never ceased, it would have still been too kind.”

You remain silent, waiting for him to continue.

“It was all my fault. I kept telling myself that maybe if I didn’t fall for her advances twenty years ago, that maybe if I just ignored her like Jongho did, then maybe we never would have gotten so tangled up in her web of lies. Both Wooyoung and I-” His voice breaks as a sob wracks his chest. “If we never agreed to a relationship with her in the past, she would have had no reason to hurt you.”

“Sannie-“

“I know,” he sniffles. “I know you already told us not to think like that, but it’s true. How could it not be true?”

“You do not control other people’s actions, San.” You gently stroke your thumb over the back of his hand, your own heart rate calming with each word that you speak. “None of us do. We could have never predicted she would do this to us.”

Softly, he nods along with your words, lips pursing slightly. “Those three days you were unconscious after the fact were the worst days of our lives.”

You squeeze his hand, heart aching inside of your chest.

“None of us knew what to do.” He admits lowly. “I think it hit Wooyoung, Hongjoong, and Seonghwa the hardest. We didn’t know if you were going to survive. We blamed ourselves for everything. We thought-“ his breath catches and his whole body shakes with his sobs. “We thought you would want nothing to do with us anymore the moment you woke up. We thought all the memories we made together would mean nothing, and you’d go back to hating us for everything that we did to you. Even worse than before.”

Gently, you shift upwards, guiding his gaze to yours with your free hand.

“I could never hate you for what she did to me.” You stare deeply into his eyes, and you watch as his chin begins to wobble slightly from his emotions. “It is not your fault, San.”

For a split second, nothing is said between the both of you. It’s as if the entire garden goes silent, too, the flowers stilling as you gaze into each other’s eyes.

That is, until he’s collapsing into your arms. A wail tears from his chest as his entire body shakes, face buried into the side of your neck. Countless apologies fall from his lips, his fingers digging harshly into your back as he holds you close. You swear that he believes that you’ll slip right through his hands if he doesn’t.

Softly, you coo to him, your own chest stuttering every now and then from the weight of your own emotions. Though, with every breath you take, you feel better. Right now, you’re revelling in the comfort of his embrace as much as he is doing the same with you.

Looks like the both of you really needed this.

“You no longer have to apologize to me, San.” You say gently, pulling away to wipe the tears from his eyes. “You saved me, in more ways than one. You all did. Now, we just need to get passed this, and we will. Together.”

He nods softly, rubbing at his nose with the back of his hand.

That’s when you notice, the trickling sound of the fountain has stopped.

Sparing a glance around you, a gasp of awe nearly falls from your lips. All around you rests the water from the fountain, floating in a thin dome-like shape. Patterns dance within the water, swirling like mist around your head.

“Are you doing this?” Your once sad eyes which are now filled with wonder make him smile faintly.

“I haven’t in a long time,” he admits lowly. “This really only happens when I lose control of my emotions.”

Your eyebrows droop in worry. “Sannie-“

“It’s like a protective barrier,” he explains, the corners of his lips quirking upwards as he begins to make the water swirl slightly faster around you. “Nothing can get through it right now. Well, except maybe Mingi, if he really wanted to.”

Realization crosses your features. “You did this for us.”

His gentle smile says it all.

Tenderly, you cup his face in your one hand, thumb stroking along his cheekbone as he leans into your touch.

“I want you to know that this space will never be able to hurt you again.” He breathes. “Not while I’m around to protect you. I’ll make it so that not a single drop of water can suffocate you, nor will anyone be able to force your head below the surface again.”

Slowly, he begins to trail the water back into the fountain, the familiar trickling filling the space once more.

Your heart swells in your chest, a warmth unlike anything you’ve ever felt before flooding your veins as you let his words sink in.

“And I will be here to help ease those doubts whenever you have them.” You say, staring deeply into his eyes as you do so. “Recovery is a tricky path, so no more blaming yourself for things that are both out of your control and not your fault.”

“The same goes for you, Baby,” he nudges your knee playfully with his own.

You smile faintly. “Okay.”

In one swift movement, he steals the mango from your hand. “Come on, we have some baking to do.”

You giggle, and the smile that lights up his features in response sets your heart racing.

“I’ll be right there, there’s just something I need to do first.” You stand with him, stretching out your back all the while. At the way he quirks his brow at you, you’re quick to shoo him away. “I promise I’ll be right there this time.”

“Alright,” he replies, somewhat skeptically. “I’ll go get the ingredients ready.”

“Alright, Baby,” you chuckle, watching as he disappears behind the doors to the library in the next second.

For a minute, you simply stand there, allowing the atmosphere of the garden to surround you fully for the second time that day. Then, you’re taking a deep breath to steady your nerves. There’s another male you wish to speak to right now. A male who you know cherishes this space as much as you do.

You brush lightly against that red string.

Instantly, Hongjoong appears in front of you, worry creasing his brow. Only, before he can say anything, you’re speaking.

“I’m sorry.”

You can tell he’s caught off guard by your words, for he blinks in surprise at you.

“You made this space for me, and I let her taint what it means to the both of us.” You avoid his gaze for the moment, shame washing over your entire figure as your shoulders curl in on yourself. “I know how much thought you put into this house - into everything that you do, and I was willing to push that aside because of one bad memory in this place.” You pause. “Because of her.”

“My Love-“

“When did you add the hyacinths?” Your voice is somewhat small, eyes briefly darting up to catch his gaze.

You notice he swallows thickly, averting his own gaze somewhat nervously.

“The day after everything happened.” He replies after a moment, clearing his throat all the while. “I added them as soon as I saw what she did to this place.”

You nod your understanding, heart squeezing painfully in your chest. “And the snapdragons?”

“The day after that.” His voice is rough as he now avoids your gaze.

You take a step in towards him, and you notice how his bottom lip is caught between his teeth. His hands tremble, and his eyes shine with unshed tears as you gently reach up to cup his face in your palms. Yet still, he refuses to meet your eyes.

“Hongjoong,” your expression falls the slightest bit, “please, look at me.”

Hesitantly, he complies with your wish.

“You haven’t stopped blaming yourself for this, have you?” Your tone is soft, synonymous with the tender caress of your thumbs against his cheeks. “For what she’s done. For what she continues to do to us.”

The first of his tears begin to fall from his eyes.

“How can I not?” His voice cracks, giving away just how broken he feels inside. “You couldn’t even look at certain parts of this house after she tarnished our sacred space. I should have protected you better. I should have known-”

His eyes squeeze shut, more tears falling freely down his face and onto the skin of your hands.

“It’s not your fault, Hongjoong.” You brush his tears away gently. “I made you believe it was, and I cannot apologize enough for that.”

“No-“

“I want you to be honest with me right now,” you cut him off almost instantly. “Did you think me avoiding this place was because I didn’t want to be reminded of you? Of how you thought that I felt you failed me?”

His silence speaks volumes.

“When did you really add those hyacinths, Hongjoong?” You search his gaze, feeling the way his whole being practically deflates in your hold. “I know you’re well versed in the language of flowers, and the fact that they’re purple says a lot to me.”

A brief pause as he hesitates in his response.

He looks down at his hands.

“Three days ago.” The admission feels like a condemnation on his part.

The day you got back from the dragon’s nest after falling from the sky. The day you slept for nearly twenty-four hours due to your high emotions and trauma response. The day he saw first hand just how scared of him you could be.

Your argument over how to get Jongho back probably didn’t help one bit.

“Oh, Hongjoong,” your expression falls, heart aching as you fall to your knees before him. Gently, you press your forehead to his hands, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes for the second time that day. “Words cannot express how much I regret ever making you feel like this. I was never avoiding reminders of you. I love you. I was avoiding her, but in doing so, I hurt you. I’ve never once blamed you for any of this, but I can only imagine the doubt you must have felt, especially over the last few days.”

The violent sobs that wrack his body tell you everything you need to know as he collapses to his knees in front of you. Almost instantly, he falls into your embrace, and you begin to gently card your fingers through his hair, cooing to him all the while.

“You are not responsible for any of this, Hongjoong.” You voice softly. “I’m sorry for ever making you think that, and I’m sorry I kept my true emotions from all of you. I should have been more honest with how she was affecting my memories of our spaces. Maybe then this all could have been avoided.”

You feel him shake his head against you. “You were only doing what you thought was best for you.”

“Sometimes what I want is not what I need.” You mutter. “I wanted to avoid her, and in turn I’ve been avoid our home and all of you. What I needed was to realize that, and to understand that nothing has changed. The only variant was her, and you have all ensured that she cannot hurt me anymore.”

“Nothing will ever hurt you again.” He tightens his grip around you, managing to get his breathing back under control. “Not while I’m here to protect you.”

You chuckle fondly. “It seems all of you share that sentimentality.”

He cracks a halfhearted grin. “So it would seem.”

As they should. As they always will. Even if it’s the last thing they ever do.

You hold him tighter.

“I’m sorry, My Love,” you breathe out, making sure to keep your voice low as you bury your face into the side of his neck. “I won’t allow her to get in-between us again.”

Turning his head slightly, Hongjoong presses his lips against the side of your temple. He lets his kiss linger for a while, holding you to him as if you may just slip right through his arms if he doesn’t.

“I appreciate you saying all of this to me, My Love,” he hums, finally managing to get his emotions back under control. “You have eased my mind more than you’ll ever know.”

The corners of your lips twitch upwards, a brief memory of your shared conversation flitting through your mind from the last time the two of you had a heart to heart in the garden.

“All is well between us now, My Love.” He places another kiss to the side of your temple. “At least, I think it is.”

He pulls away to stare into your eyes, searching your gaze for any signs you might be hiding something from him again. Something that you believe might burden him if you admit to.

“I think so, too,” you smile faintly, leaning in to peck his cheek lightly.

“I believe there are some others that might benefit from a conversation like this with you, too.” He says casually, standing back to his feet and helping you back to yours almost immediately

“I believe you’re right.” You hum, settling into the comfort of his embrace with his arm around your shoulders. “For now, San is expecting me in the kitchen.”

Hongjoong quirks a brow, “Is he, now?”

“We’re baking cookies.” You grin, wiggling excitedly in his hold.

“Finally succumbing to his desires of cooking with you, are you?” Hongjoong teases.

“I was the one who suggested it.” You reply, beginning to exit the garden with Hongjoong right beside you.

He laughs, “Even better.”

Your brow quirks, somewhat knowingly. “I have a feeling that he’s not the only one with those types of more… domestic desires.”

“No, he most certainly isn’t.” Hongjoong grins. “I’m quite certain we all have things we wish to indulge in with you at some point that aren’t apart of our greater indulgences.”

“Everything I do with you guys feels like a greater indulgence,” you admit. “Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever been this spoiled in my life.”

Hongjoong smiles wide as you both enter the kitchen together.

“Get used to it, Baby,” San glances up from the counter where he’s already taken the liberty to lay out some bowls and baking ingredients. A grin tugs at his lips, an eagerness unlike anything you’ve seen before shines within his eyes. “We enjoy pleasing you more than you’ll ever know.”

It’s slight, but you cannot help the way your breath hitches in your throat. Though, what really gets you is the not so innocent smile San sends your way as you meet his gaze.

“Yeah, yeah.” You huff out a laugh, playfully rolling your eyes. “It’s the corset pictures all over again.”

The two males share a look.

“Well, if you’re offering…” Hongjoong grins deviously.

You slap his arm teasingly, mouth parting in shock, “Joongie!”

“You’re the one who brought them up,” San singsongs from behind the counter.

You shake your head, a loving smile pulling at your lips as you separate from Hongjoong in order to join San behind the counter. You can hear them chuckle as you mutter to yourself about your ‘damn horny Kings’ once more.

Not even a minute later, Hongjoong takes his leave. Well, it’s more of San pointedly glaring at him until Hongjoong casually says that he has some other things to attend to. You laugh at this, poking San on his cheek again as you tease him about monopolizing all of your alone time.

“Is it that bad that I want you all to myself sometimes, Baby?” He wraps his arms around you, burying his face into the side of your neck all the while.

“Not at all,” you hum, practically melting into his embrace.

The next hour is spent with him in the kitchen, laughing and joking around as you teach him how to make your favourite cookies. Every word you speak, every instruction you give him, he listens to eagerly, insisting that he do all of the heavy mixing. It’s only when the cookies are finally in the oven, you standing at the sink cleaning what you can of the used dishes, that you feel him step up behind you once more.

“I love you.” His arms are wrapped securely around your waist, his chest pressed firmly against your back as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck.

You smile, relaxing into his touch. “I love you, too, Sannie.”

“Thank you, for indulging in multiple of my hobbies with me today.” He says lowly, squeezing your waist a little bit tighter. “It truly means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

“Of course, Baby.” You turn your head just as he rests his chin on your shoulder, managing to place a tender kiss onto the side of his cheek. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a while. I’m just glad we finally got to.”

He giggles, a large grin spreading across his face as he holds you close. Even when you finally finish the dishes, and the timer dings on the stove, he refuses to let you go.

“Sannie! My cookies!” You whine, though it comes out more of a laugh than anything.

“What about them?” He hums, waddling around the kitchen with you in his arms.

“They’re going to burn!”

He shakes his head against your own. “No, they won’t.”

In the blink of an eye, he’s removed the trays from the oven, setting the cookies aside to cool. Another blink, and he’s back to holding you in his arms as the oven cools down.

“You’re worse than a koala.” You tease, poking his arm lightly.

He whines in response, a pout tugging at his lips that you manage to catch in the reflection of the glass paneling of the cupboards. “I’m the cutest koala, though, right?” 

You chuckle, “If you say so.”

A loud, scandalized gasp escapes him. “I’m the cutest koala, and you know it!”

“Do I?” You hum, clearly amused by his antics.

“I’m not letting you go until you admit that I’m your cutest koala.” He tightens his grip, burying his face into the side of your neck once more. Only this time, he begins placing tender kisses against your skin, managing to tickle you all the while.

You begin to squirm in his grip, desperately attempting to free yourself as you giggle.

“Okay, okay!” You practically melt into his embrace. “You’re my cutest koala.��

You can feel the smirk that pulls onto his lips as his chest shakes in laughter. “Victory.”

“Now, will you let me go so I can finally taste our baking?” You struggle to waddle yourself over to the now (hopefully) cooled cookies on the rack.

Instantly, he’s in front of you, offering a cookie to you while he holds one for himself in his other hand. Graciously, you take it, breaking it in half and smiling at the softness that greets you. The inside is still a bit warm, too.

“I can see why these are your favourite,” he hums, nodding in approval as the sweet treat melts in his mouth.

“Looks like you owe another thing to Reina,” you joke, popping the rest of your cookie into your mouth.

“Maybe I’ll help you set her up with Sudaem in thanks.” San wiggles his brows suggestively.

Your brow quirks eagerly, “I like the way you think.”

Grabbing a plate from the cupboard, you place some cookies on top of it. You have some other males you wish to see before the day is done, and besides, you didn’t just make these for you.

The way each male’s eyes light up as you peek your head into their spaces, bringing with you a plate of cookies has your heart warming. San, of course, follows behind you like an overexcited puppy, revelling in his brother’s praises of your baking as much as you are.

Honestly, you’re just glad that they’re enjoying the sweets so much. So much so, in fact, that you see both Jongho and Wooyoung fighting over the ones you left untouched in the kitchen when you return. Never would any of you have expected Yeosang to be the one to swoop in and steal the plate right from their hands, though.

The chase that ensued was comical, ending with a broken plate and scattered cookie crumbs across the floor. You swear you even see Seonghwa shed a tear when he walks out of his tailor shop to see the catastrophe right before his eyes.

“Don’t worry, boys,” you chuckle. “I can go make more.”

Which is exactly how you find yourself making a few more dozen batches with San, both Wooyoung and Mingi eagerly sitting at the counter the whole time to keep you two company.

Truly, you’re grateful for moments like these. They make you remember that everything will be okay, even if the path you’re walking is still uncertain. The fact that they’ll all be with you every step of the way only makes it that much sweeter, your heart warming as you simply enjoy the moment with Your Kings that this evening brings.

The next day, you spend training with both Mingi and Hongjoong. You want to get out some pent up frustration, and the practice had been long overdue. Luckily, you do not do anything too intensive, simply going over everything that you’ve already learned, and working to perfect it as best as you can.

You all agree that it would be best to save the teaching of new techniques for next week.

The day after that, you brave Yunho’s art room. The exchange is just as emotional as the garden, the two of you falling into each other’s embrace for comfort as you are so prone to do. It is much needed, and you find that with each space that you reclaim, you can feel yourself regaining parts of yourself that you had thought you had lost.

Well, perhaps not lost, per se, but those parts that have now undergone a strong rebirth.

Now, you are stronger, and feeling much more secure in both yourself and your relationships with all of them. Although everything is still a bit rocky, you’re happy with the progress that you’re making, and you just know that they feel the exact same way as you.

Over the next three days, you rotate where you spend your time. One day is spent in the garden, Mingi being the one to join you this time. The next is spent with Yunho again in his art room. He claimed to want to paint you again, and you certainly were not going to deny him. The final day is spent with both Jongho and Hongjoong in the library, simply relaxing in each other’s comforting presence as you spent the time reading together. 

Each day, you feel better, until a full week has passed since that day in the garden with San. 

There’s a funny feeling in your chest when you wake up that morning, a sort of tightness you haven’t felt in a while. A tightness which you think you’re starting to understand.

It’s time to let go.

Taking a deep breath in, you exit your room.

The steps that you take down the hallway are careful, each movement precise as you approach the two rooms that rest at the end. The moment you reach the one door, you peer through the window, noticing how the lights seem to be turned off. No one appears to be using the studio for the moment, and before you can open the door, you stop yourself.

Suddenly, your mouth goes dry, and your hand which had been hovering above the handle slowly retracts back to your side. You don’t even need to look down to feel the tremble in your hand.

Perhaps you’ll do the other thing you had in mind first, and take it from there.

Turning back to face the end of the hallway, you walk towards the music room. Not much has changed about the space since the last time you saw it, save for the brand new baby grand piano that sits near the large bay windows. Even Yeosang’s violin rests in its regular spot, perfectly placed and shining in the light of the midmorning sun.

You smile softly to yourself, remembering the very first time he played for you.

Turning back to the piano, you slowly approach the bench. Gently, your hand trails over the lid, propping it open carefully as you attempt to keep your hands from shaking.

You are safe.

She can’t hurt you anymore.

Tugging the bench out, you sit before the keys, feeling a comforting brush of fur against your leg. Looking down reveals Kuroo staring up at you with those wide, golden eyes of his. Of course, he’s quick to hop onto the window bench, curling up in the exact same position that he was in the very first time that you played in this room.

You think back on that now, and what it meant to you then.

Gosh, you feel like an entirely different person now compared to only a few months ago. Then again, you probably are.

You spare a glance down at the keys.

That most certainly isn’t a bad thing. After all, this time when you play, you’ll be playing for you.

Taking another deep breath in, you begin.

You start with a familiar favourite like always, the opening notes of Moonlight Sonata filling the room as you lose yourself to the music.

For about forty minutes, you go through multiple classical pieces you’ve known since you were young, allowing the melodies to surround you and comfort you like they always have. You fumble a few times on certain songs that you haven’t played in a while, but you have long since stopped caring. Right now, this is for you, and you aren’t attempting to be perfect. In fact, that’s the whole point.

Though, that’s not all you came here to do.

For a brief moment, you pause, allowing the stillness of the silence of the room to settle over you. You take the time to stretch out your back, cracking your knuckles while you’re at it before straightening in your seat. There are two more songs you wish to perform for yourself as a final goodbye to the person you once were, and everything that you’ve been through. Only, you know that the lyrics can be taken a certain way, and the last thing you want is for any of them to believe that you’re singing about them.

So, you tell them.

These next songs aren’t about you. You drop your void for the moment. These are for me. So please, do not think the words are aimed at any of you. I need this. For me.

Alright, Petal, It’s Yunho who answers you first. We understand.

You smile, somewhat sorrowfully. Thank you.

Just as you go to close your void, you hesitate. Then, probably against your better judgement, you decide to leave it down for the time being. After all, you did promise to be more open with them about your emotions going forward.

The opening notes to Adele’s Someone Like You fill the room not even a moment later. You begin to perform for yourself, for the life you lost, and for the person who you are sure to become.

The perspective you decide to take with this song is your current self singing to your past self. The past self that you lost when Miyeon finally broke you is finally being acknowledged, and, oh, how fitting some of the lyrics seem to be to your exact situation.

You never thought you would settle down, so to say, but you were proved wrong in the best of ways.

Looking into mirrors the first few days and seeing your face shortly after the incident had happened had been a challenge. Every time you saw yourself, it felt as if you were looking at a ghost. A ghost of yourself that you hadn’t realized you needed to let go of in order to begin healing like you so badly needed to do.

“Never mind, I’ll find someone like you,” Your old self will continue to strengthen your current self. After all, people do not change over night. However, that being said, you need to let your past self go in order to thrive in the present.

“I wish nothing but the best for you, too.” Now, you picture yourself having a conversation with your old self, her saying this to you in your current state.

“Don’t forget me, I beg,” Still your past self urging you never to forget the good memories you’ve always had with her.

“I’ll remember, you said.” Your current self reassuring your past self that you’ll never forget, but you’ll still be okay.

“Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead.” The corner of your lips quirk upwards, a sense of melancholy settling over your being as you continue into the second verse.

The whole time you sing, your thoughts and feelings echo shameless through each of their minds. Graciously, they follow along with your journey, tears gathering in their eyes as they see you talking to yourself and assuring yourself in ways that they know only you can.

No matter what, they will still support you in whatever ways that they can. Right now, they will do so by listening and understanding all that you are doing for yourself through your music. Yet, there is no denying that all of you understand that you are saying goodbye to your past self in your own way.

The second you reach the final verse, your own tears begin to fall. Saying goodbye to a part of yourself that you had been stolen from you, that had been torn from your very soul is no easy task. However, with each word you sing, you feel a weight lifting from your chest. Slowly, you begin to feel lighter, and by the time the final notes ring out in the room, your smile has brightened, and you can breathe a bit easier.

Now, for the final, and possibly most important song.

This time, when the opening notes for Panic! At the Disco’s This Is Gospel ring out, you imagine that it’s the part of yourself that you are saying goodbye to singing to your current self, reassuring you that everything will be okay.

With each note, your voice becomes stronger, solidifying who you are in this moment, and who you are surely bound to become.

“If you love me, let me go.” The tears you had managed to get under control only minutes before stream freely down your face as you repeat the phrase of the song once more.

This song has always meant a lot to you, and now that you can fully apply it to your current situation, you find the lyrics truly resonating with you. Especially the next ones that fall from your lips, “The fear of falling apart.”

This is you telling yourself that everything will be okay.

“I won’t give up without a fight.” There is extra emphasis put on those words in particular, even if you are currently unaware of that fact.

With every note that you hit, and every word you sing, your voice becomes stronger. The music rises in a crescendo as you finally break free of all of your past worries and doubts. Finally, you lay your old self to rest, and as the final notes ring out through the air, you feel like a newer, stronger person.

You close your void.

For five minutes, you simply sit there at that piano, letting everything you’ve just expelled through your playing linger around you in the room. A soft smile rests on your features as you keep your eyes closed, wiping at your final tears that cling to your cheeks.

For the first time in a long time, your head is clear, and those lingering fears and doubts begin to recede.

The feeling of a gentle hand placing itself onto your back makes you jump slightly. Turning your body, you blink your eyes open to see Yeosang standing behind you, tears of his own having cut tracks down the side of his face.

“Dearest-“

You nearly knock over the bench as you stand to your feet, wrapping him in your arms as he does the same for you. He holds you tightly, cradling the back of your head gently in his hand as you bury your face into the side of his neck. Soothingly, he caresses your spine.

“Thank you,” he swallows thickly, “for sharing this with us.”

You tighten your grip around him, a peaceful smile pulling at your lips.

“Thank you for listening.”

[sophswritingthings]

NVM FIGURED OUT PART 7 LOL

So after reader calmed down by Mizu she opens up about how her childhood was always weighing down on her due to be one of the oldest in he family (she has 3 older brothers and this will probably be important later down in the other parts.) and how it was always expected of her to exceed.

She starts to say how her mom even ran away from her dad due to how demented he is and how controlling and manipulative he is. Then talks about how her only sense of security is her three older brothers who suddenly went missing. (They're alive don't worry).

Then Mizu starts to talk about her childhood and past which made reader cry again. Then reader realizes she needs to leave her home in the mountains because she keeps getting ambushed bro 🤬🤬. So she walks into town and declares she's leaving to al of the townsfolk she's been with for year's.

Then she becomes a travelling doctor with her travelling Samurai wife 😸😸😸

(Honestly not my most creative ask but I'm literally in a restaurant rn)

pairing: mizu x fem!apothecary!reader 

warning(s): swearing, mentions of abuse

a/n: YAYYYY PART 7!! let’s go baby let’s GOOOO

summary: you and your wife have a heart-to-heart talk about your pasts. you decide to finally leave the mountains; leaving behind the memories of your past with them. 

word count: 1,100 words / 5,790 characters 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“come on, my love,” mizu whispered, lifting you up bridal style in her arms. she carries you to your bathhouse stripping down your blood soaked clothes and settling you in the bath.

she does the same with her own clothes, sliding in beside you. she rests your head on her shoulder, brushing her fingers through your now wet hair.

“mizu..?” 

you pipe up, your voice quiet. 

“yes?” she murmurs back, her hand still combing through your hair in an attempt to keep you calm. 

“could I… open up to you, about something? like.. my.. childhood?” you turn your gaze fully on her, gazing up into the beautiful blue eyes.

“of course,” she presses a gentle kiss atop of your head.

“it’s always been such a weight on my chest. as if someone was always lying on my chest, suffocating me,” you take in a deep breath. “I was one of the oldest kids in the family; I have three older brothers and a younger brother and a younger sister.”

you breathe deeply. it’s obviously difficult for you to talk about; mizu can see that. she doesn’t want you to hurt. she rubs the back of your head as you begin to speak again.

“I always had to be perfect; I was the eldest girl, I was to be married off to a high-ranking man, blacken my teeth, and move my family up in the world,” you narrow your eyes. “and when I couldn’t be that; I was beat. the idea of perfection was literally beat into me.”

you chuckle a little; trying to lighten the mood, if only a little.

“my mom ran away when I was about sixteen. she escaped my father, thank fucking god,” you sigh. “my dad was always controlling and manipulative with us; but god, especially her. and I had to just… watch it happen. I couldn’t do anything or I’d be the subject of his anger.”

mizu is staring at you. her eyes are wide as the moon; and she looks terrified. yet she looks empathetic; like she understands you. It looks like she’s never understood you more.

“the only comfort I ever had were my older brothers. they taught me everything I know about medicine!” you smile, gazing at up at her. than your gaze downcasts, back to the water, “they went missing, not too long ago. I went back to try and find them. they were gone.”

she nods, slowly moving her hands about the steaming water. she looked to be… contemplating, something.

“yeah. yeah, I had a pretty shitty childhood, too,” she whispers. “I was always believed to be a monster. an onryō. which is pretty apparent.” she scoffs. 

you place a hand comfortingly on her shoulder, squeezing it a little. you never thought of her as a monster; all you saw was your beautiful, strong wife.

“my mother never let me go outside; she cut off all my hair, and told me I always had to be a boy—that the bad men were looking for a girl—a girl,” she whispered her last two words. “she would hit me when I tried to go outside. I—just wanted to be like the other children.. but I never could be like them. I was a monster; a demon. I—still am.”

“no,” you narrow your eyes. “you are not a monster and you never were, mizu—“ you can feel yourself getting teary eyed, again, sniffling as you look up at your wife. “—you are my wife. the woman I love; I never saw a monster. and I don’t think I ever will.”

she rests her head against your shoulder, nodding as she closed her eyes in your warmth.

“I-I love you,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around your knees.

“I love you too, my love.”

the next morning you awoke, lying naked in bed with mizu wrapped around you. you were safe and warm in her arms; that much was true.

but the mountains—the mountains were not safe.

as you got up and got dressed, you moved about your house. the place you had lived since you had escaped your fathers grasp; the place that had brought you safety in such horrible times.

but you believed it had served its purpose. 

It served as a cover when you were unsafe, when you were at your lowest.. but.. now—

the man who made you so unsafe in this world was dead.

there was no reason for you to hide anymore. you had love, you had light—it was all different now; and this house only held the bad memories of pain and hiding.

it was time you left.

once mizu had woken up, still groggy and half asleep, you brought the idea to her.

“are you sure?” she questioned, her eyes wide under those glasses. “I haven’t yet gotten the information on where I am going.”

“yes,” you were already packing up medicines and food to bring with you. “we can always nestle into a small town, and I could work for a shop for a little; if we need the rest. but I don’t believe it will take that long.”

you were smiling. you were… excited to leave the home you!d known for so long, weirdly.

she lent down and kissed your cheek, “if you're sure,” she nestled her hat onto her head. 

“I’m sure, mizu,” you smile softly.

“than let’s get on with it,” she offers you her hand. 

“I'd like to let the townspeople know first… is that okay? they’re gotten so used to me, and I’ve made so many friends, here..” your voice trails off.

“of course,” she takes you by the hand, and you make your way down the mountain. 

once into the town, you stand atop of a fountain, with the help of mizu who’s holding your hand because she’s too scared you'll fall in.

“um, excuse me? everyone?”

your voice bellows through the small square; catching the townspeople’s attention. it wasn’t a big area; so they all knew you. and you knew all of them.

“I'd like to let you all know that I’ll be leaving the town,” gasps and murmurs surrounded you. “there’s no need to speculate why, it’s nothing scandalous. I simply need to do this; and I will be leaving with my husband,” you gesture to mizu beside you. “my apprentice will be running the shop from now on. I wish all of you well and good fortune for the rest of your time.”

you step off of the fountain, still clasping mizu's hand. you gaze up at her, smiling tenderly.

“ready?”

“ready.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n: that mizu gif she’s like fuck out my way taigen

[alihightowers]

Hi.

-What made you ship rhaenicent?

-is Alicent your fav hotd character?why?

-Are you team green or team black or none?

-is there any character you hate in hotd?why?

-shipping aside, do you think Rhaenyra deserves Alicent?

-who's your favorite targtower child?why?

-your fav hotd episode?why?

-if you could be a hotd character,which one would you be?why?

(Only If you want to answer.no pressure)

this took me forever oopsie, I'm sorry, but here ya go! :)

-What made you ship rhaenicent?  

how long do we have...lol, but honestly, in short, it was the tragedy of their relationship that hooked me. It's quite heart breaking to see such an innocent, pure love decay over time. They were doomed from the beginning, they just didn’t know it at the time, and as the fallout progressed, they really had no time to properly process that heavy loss. Then to have to spend the next ~10 years living in the same place, haunting each other while existing worlds away is just...it's a constant reminder of a past they can never recover, of everything that was lost, but never truly buried, staring back at them whenever they crossed paths. And still, through everything, there’s that underlying desire/need to reconnect. It's a delicious kind of pain to pour fuel on that love and watch it burn, but still want to reach for it. Plus, the palpable tension and insane chemistry really seals the deal. 

-is Alicent your fav hotd character?why? 

she is! My girl has never known a moment of peace since she was like 14 and I think she’s extremely misunderstood, which just makes me love her more. She’s constantly surrounded by people, yet she’s always alone. Everything she does stems back to love, but she has a difficult time expressing it. She's been forced into situation after situation she has no control over but somehow still manages to be resilient despite the struggles. She’s a flawed character, imperfect and troubled, but she’s just trying her best and that’s something I find relatable.  She's also intelligent af and ruled the kingdom while her deadbeat poor excuse of a husband slowly rotted into compost.

-Are you team green or team black or none? 

team green babiiieee.

-is there any character you hate in hotd?why? 

viserys and daemon are tied for first. Simply put, they're entitled wife killers and child groomers with god complexes.  makes my skin crawl. I also don't like otto for obv reasons.

-shipping aside, do you think Rhaenyra deserves Alicent? 

no I don’t.

-who's your favorite targtower child?why? 

helaena. My sweet, summer child dreamer who’s never done anything wrong in her whole entire life. She’s the innocent in this story, always tucked away in her own little world and she deserved so much better than what she got. I just love her lol. 

-your fav hotd episode?why? 

probably driftmark because that’s the first time we see Alicent crack and unleash years of pent up hurt and rage on behalf of her children. It’s such a poignant moment for her, her fears personified in the realization of how little both she and her children truly mean and how easily they could be killed. Also olivia’s performance is just captivating. 

-if you could be a hotd character,which one would you be?why? 

sunfyre bc I would be the most gorgeous LOL. Jk, probably helaena I guess. I'm pretty soft spoken and keep to myself. I also enjoy dreaming and am v fond of nature/creatures.  

[sugawaraxo]

COCKWARMING THE PRETTY SETTERS

warnings: definitely smut 

characters: tooru oikawa, tobio kageyama, kenma kozume, koshi sugawara

a/n: i’m taking request btw :) my inbox is open. also, this is kinda long so grab your popcorn haha

oikawa

 - oikawa is obsessed with you whether he wants to admit it or not

- which is wild because no one would’ve expected him to ever be more obsessed with anyone other than himself

- but here you are

- and he LOVES being around you 

- just being in your presence makes him all giddy and smiley

- though he does try to compose himself whenever you guys are around his teammates but usually fails 

-  he’s not obsessed in a weird or creepy way, but just enough for you to know that he’s all about you and only you

- and you love it

- and of course oikawa’s obsession with you rings no surprise that he’s obsessed with being inside you 

- as long as he’s close to his pretty y/n, he’s happy

the two of you had just finished a long and strenuous two rounds of sex and were more than ready for bed. but when oikawa got out of bed to get towels for the two of you to clean up with, you felt extremely empty. you were exhausted, that’s for sure. but a big part of you just wanted him filling you up again, even if nothing else happened. you pout, knowing that your attentive boyfriend would notice when he came back, which he did. 

“hm, what’s wrong pretty girl?” he asks softly as he starts to gently clean his mess off of your stomach with a warm towel. 

“i want you inside of me again.” you say in an almost whisper, a little embarrassed by the words that just left your mouth and he laughs lightly. 

“you’re so cute.” he says as he tucks a piece of hair away from your face and gives you a kiss. “but i’m so tired.” he finishes, then plops down on the bed beside you, big spooning you. 

“no, we don’t have to have sex again, i’m exhausted too. i just want you inside me.” you say shyly. you feel his dick twitch behind you and can’t help but smile a little, knowing you’re about to get what you want.

“oh, like cockwarming?” oikawa asks and you nod in response. “hm, ok. yeah, we can do that.” he smiles before kissing your forehead. he was already big spooning you so he was in the perfect position to just slip it in. he pulls down his shorts just enough so that his member could spring free, then pulls the panties that you were wearing under one of his shirts down just enough for him to have access to what he needed. he teases your folds with his tip a little bit, causing you to tense up. then he slowly pushes himself inside you, it not being too difficult with you still being wet from earlier. the two of you moan in unison, both sensitive from your previous interactions. once he’s fully in, he stays there and wraps his arm around your waist as he plants a soft kiss on your shoulder.

“does that feel good? is that ok?” he asks before pressing more soft kisses on your shoulder and your neck.

“it’s perfect.” you coo and he pulls you a little closer with the arm he had slung over your waist.

“goodnight princess.”

“goodnight oikawa.”

- you definitely have morning sex when you wake up

kageyama

- let’s be real here, he really doesn’t know what any kinks are

- he just learns what he likes and what he doesn’t like from you and waits for you to tell him if it’s a kink or not 

- you end up having to tell him that basically anything sexual can be a kink after he keeps asking you “is that a kink?” every time you two do something new in bed 

- you find his lack of knowledge on the subject adorable though, even though you constantly tease him about it 

- he honestly just goes with the flow and follows your lead in terms of sexual things

- not that he’s the submissive one, you just know more about sex so sometimes you have to give him extra guidance

- he doesn’t mind it though, he wouldn’t wanna learn it from anyone else but you

- and you just so happened to teach him his new favorite kink

you two are making out on kageyama’s bed. it starts off innocent at first but slowly progresses into a messier and more heated kiss. you’re on top of him, tugging on his hair while he grips onto your hips. you begin slowly grinding against him causing him to moan softly into your mouth. his sounds were always so pretty and always instantly made your core pulse. you continue grinding on kageyama, giving both yourself and him pleasure. but it isn’t enough. in one swift motion he flips you over so now he’s the one on top. without detaching his lips from yours, he pulls his member out of his pants and lifts up the skirt you’re wearing then slowly pulls down your underwear, revealing your wet core.

“pretty.” he mumbles before licking a teasingly slow and soft stripe up your folds. you moan at the sensation and shut your eyes in pleasure. he continues to please you with his tongue before inserting two fingers into you. it hurts a bit more than usual but you shrug it off because the pleasure outweighs the pain. he continues with this for a few minutes more before he can’t take it anymore and positions himself at your entrance. he slowly begins pushing himself in, but as soon as he’s all the way in, you yelp in pain.

“ow ow ow! stop!” you groan, and kageyama does as told.

“what’s wrong? s-should i take it out?” he asks, concern laced in his voice.

“no no, keep it in just let me adjust to it.” you say. the day before, you and kageyama had some hardcore sex. you had unintentionally somewhat intentionally made him jealous so that he would punish you, and oh that he did. but your poor pussy was suffering the consequences. 

“ok princess, i won’t move. just let me know when you’re ready.” he says softly and you smile at his sweetness. he starts kissing you again, this time more deep and passionate as opposed to the sloppy, heated kiss that got you here in the first place. you were slowly beginning to relax around your boyfriend while he was losing his mind trying not to bust inside of you. something about not moving but still being inside you, feeling you around him. the anticipation. it’s driving him crazy.

“oh no, i’m gonna cum.” he says shyly as he pulls away from the kiss and accidentally cums inside of you. he hides his face in the crook of your neck in embarrasment and you just giggle at him, as that isn’t the first time that’s happened. 

“is, is that a kink? not doing anything, just being inside you? because i think i have that kink.” he mumbles into your shoulder.

“it is actually, it’s called cockwarming.” you say as you gently stroke his hair, trying to relax your still clearly embarrassed boyfriend. 

“hm, well can we never do cockwarming again, that was embarrassing.” he sighs before finally removing his head from the crook of your neck and looking at you.

“i don’t think it was embarrassing baby, i thought it was cute. but if you don’t wanna do it again we don’t have to.” you reassure him and he blushes at your compliment.

“maybe we can do it again sometime then, but for now it’s time to get you cleaned up.” he says before picking you up over his shoulder and taking you to the bathroom. 

kenma

- anyone who knows kenma knows that he is always preoccupied with video games

- whenever he’s playing, it’s fairly difficult to get his attention

- as his girlfriend, you’ve somewhat learned to accept this, even though you would like more attention from your boyfriend

- but you take what you can get, knowing that’s just how kenma is and you wouldn’t ever wanna change him 

- but sometimes you get needy

- really needy 

- and kenma isn’t always the best at reading that

- so you take it upon yourself to get the kind of attention you’re craving from your boyfriend

kenma doesn’t really get flustered too often. but when he does, oh anyone in a ten mile radius can tell. the first time you saw him really get flustered was when he gave you his hoodie while you were out on a date. it had gotten colder than you expected so he gave you his jacket to keep you warm, and as soon as you put it on, the boy went red. he couldn’t even form coherent sentences at first and you thought it was the most hilariously adorable thing ever. ever since that day, you’ve worn his clothes whenever you wanted his attention; hoodies, sweatshirts, t-shirts, you name it. today is one of those days. kenma has been gaming all day in some sort of tournament and you’re beginning to get frustrated because of how badly you’re craving his touch, so you pull out the big guns. you put on one of his favorite hoodies, one that you’ve never worn before, and head into his gaming room. he’s sitting is his gaming chair deep in concentration, shooting at someone and talking to who you assume is kuroo on his headset. he doesn’t even notice you at first until you come sit in his lap, your legs resting on either side of his as you lay your head on his shoulder. 

“hi kitten.” he whispers away from his mic before placing a gentle kiss on your lips and you hum in response. you played with the hair at the nape of his neck for a little bit before your overwhelming feeling of neediness comes back. you lift your head from kenma’s shoulder, now somewhat blocking his view of his computer screen.

‘i want to feel you inside me’ you mouth to him. he hadn’t even realized what you were wearing until right then, and his cheeks blush bright red. he places a finger under your chin and uses it to pull you in for a kiss. “go for it.” he whispers to you as he pulls away, reverting his attention back to his game that he had forgotten about for a quick second. you easily slip his member out of the sweats he’s wearing and give it a few strokes to get him hard. you were wearing absolutely nothing under his hoodie in hopes that this would be the outcome, and when he notices that as he glances from you back to his computer screen every so often, he mumbles 

“dirty little kitten, this is exactly what you wanted hm?” 

“mhmm” you respond and he smiles.

you continue what you’re doing and position kenma’s tip at your hole before slowly sinking down on it. your breath hitches at the feeling of being filled up, while kenma clenches his eyes shut and bites his lip in order to hold back his moans. once he’s fully inside you, you lay your head on his shoulder again and just stay there.

“hm, that’s it? you just wanna cockwarm me?” kenma asks curiously. 

“mhmm. just wanted to feel you inside me, that’s it.” you say sleepily, slowly drifting as you shut your eyes. 

kenma can’t help but smile, “you’re adorable.” he says before planting a kiss on your cheek. you smile a small smile in return before dozing off on kenma’s shoulder, him still buried deep inside you. 

every so often you would move around in your sleep and kenma would have to bite his lip to hold back a moan so the friends he was playing with wouldn’t hear, but it was worth the risk because he loves just being this close to you, and you do too.

sugawara

- suga’s high sex drive really surprised you when you two first started dating

- his kinkiness surprised you too

- you thought he would always be very gentle and vanilla

- but you were very mistaken

- not that you’re complaining though

- he’s always open to trying new things

- so when you bring up the topic of cockwarming, he’s intrigued

“is that something you wanna try bunny?” he asks after you finish explaining to him what exactly cockwarming is.

“we don’t have to if you don’t want to, i just think it’d be interesting to try.” you shrug

“i agree.” he says, before leaning over to start kissing your neck. that’s your weak spot, so you take this as suga saying he wants to try right now. the two of you are currently on the couch, in the middle of watching a romcom but clearly that romcom has been forgotten as suga continues to make little love bites on your neck. you lift his chin to kiss him because you know if you don’t stop him now, he’ll cover your whole body in hickies. the kiss is soft, but passionate and you can feel yourself quite literally melting into it. somehow you end up straddling suga, still lost in the kiss. you suddenly notice a pair of familiar fingers making their way down to your most sensitive area. he teases you, rubbing his fingers over your pajama shorts, knowing you’re getting needy because of the way you’re starting to softly moan into his mouth. he takes this as a sign of you wanting more and breaks away from the kiss so he can take off your shorts and your underwear, with a little bit of help from you. once your bottom half is completely naked, he grins and begins kissing you again. the sensation of your bare core against suga’s sweatpants was teasing you, so you began moving your hips to get some friction. suga moans a little at your sudden movements and you can feel him getting harder. he pushes you up off of him slightly so that he can pull his sweats down, them ending up just hanging around his ankles. now both of your bottom halves are naked, and you’re staring at each other in anticipation.

“sit on it bunny.” suga instructs and you follow his orders, sitting down on his length and feeling every inch against your walls. that feeling when he first inserts into you will never get old. 

“mm, suga.” you moan. he instinctively thrusts after hearing your pretty noises, completely forgetting what you guys were supposed to be trying.

“no, don’t move.” you laugh at him and he blushes apologetically.

“sorry, i couldn’t help it. you’re just so pretty.” he apologizes and you melt.

“it’s ok suga, you’re adorable.” you smile. “i’m gonna turn around now, but keep you inside me and we’ll finish the movie just like this, yeah?” you say.

“yeah.” he nods in agreement. without pulling suga out of you, you turn so that you’re no longer straddling him but sitting in his lap with your back facing towards him, your face now facing the tv. you guys finish the rest of the movie exactly like this, you sitting on suga’s lap with his member deep inside of you and suga occasionally thrusting up into you just to get your reaction. 

[toukatan]

You read every gojohime fic???? That's amazing!!! What are your favourites?

hello anonie! i guess i can say i’ve read at least a good 80% of all the fics, at least. probably. most likely because the fic tag at the start of the year was tiny and now the community’s grown so much there’s almost 600 of them. that’s insane to me. like hello?

i have a lotta fics that come to mind, that i should honestly make a master post on because i love them all. so here are a few many that came to mind immediately as i typed this up.

gojohime fic recommendations!

multichapter

limitations by ohmytheon 

“Parenthood chooses you," her mother used to tell her, but Utahime never understood that saying more than the moment she realized she was pregnant with Gojo Satoru's child. They were never meant to be something serious - never meant to be more than they were - and yet they both suddenly find themselves in a world that doesn't care about their desires - and that brings them closer in a way that no one else can understand. It won't be easy and it won't be kind to either of them, but it appears as if the universe has other plans for them

no one is what they were before by ohmytheon 

The world broke when Gojo Satoru turned on jujutsu society. It's not the hopeful place it was before, but Utahime has never been one to give up. Until she's placed in a dangerous position directly in his path, and she finds herself trapped in a web that doesn't seem intent on ever letting her go.

and touch me like you never by ohmytheon 

In public, Gojo is a special grade bastard, especially to Utahime, and has been all their lives. He knows exactly what insults to throw and what buttons to push to drive her up a wall. In private, however, he's got quite a few other things to tell and show her, which only makes things more confusing. It would be easier if she could avoid him entirely, but for some reason, he won't let her go entirely.

gravity by aerfei

This is Utahime, fierce and indomitable, and this is Satoru, who despite holding the world’s regard, still craves something that Utahime has had all her life. Coming together is sometimes an act of desperation, and sometimes a deliberate choice. Or: An Iori Utahime character study, through the lens of her relationship with Gojo Satoru, starting from the beginning and ending at the Goodwill Event arc. Manga spoilers and (at least 95%) canon-compliant through (at least) chapter 135.

count every single leaf in autumn by florieneofthesea

“I told my family we’re dating.” Utahime’s hand hovers over the door. “What?!” (or: Gojo tells his family that he's dating Utahime to get them off his back, so of course they invite her to the dreaded family dinner™)

favourite colour by otherthingsonhold

At 28, Satoru Gojo's responsibilities only start to multiply. With his clan looking to him to lead the family, and the balance of the universe in his hands, Gojo isn't thinking of much else. But when his mother brings something to his attention, the only thing Gojo can do is follow through. But how is Utahime Iori part of all of this?

gojo catoru by ashittywriter

Utahime is tasked to catsit a suspiciously large Persian dollface cat with pristine white hair, the most boop-able nose, and to top it off the cutest cerulean eyes. Too bad the cat also happens to be her idiotic colleague Gojo Satoru.

at the tail-end of spring by florieneofthesea

Utahime doesn't expect to remember her ex's number off by heart but it comes in handy when she's a little less than sober outside a club in a city she's not familiar with and her battery on three percent. She just wishes things turned out differently for them. (Or, post-break up exploration where outer forces refuse to let them have their happy ending.)

a second chance by onewordmore

In another world, it wasn't Geto who sneered down at humanity, regarding them to be worthless monkeys that deserved to die. In another world, it wasn't Geto who openly defied the Jujutsu Council and brought down terror and fear to all. In another world, it wasn't just Amanai Riko who died that day, amidst the cheers and delighted cries of the insane. And Utahime was going to learn, first hand, the consequences of her own death.

from you to me by onewordmore

A drabble series regarding Gojo and Utahime. From fluff to smut to angst to love. This is going to have it all.

oneshots

oceansize by aerfei

The marriage is arranged by their families, small clans both, with all their hopes and traditions laid gently upon the shoulders of their only heirs -- and yet, this distance is impassable.

under the cover of darkness by ohmytheon

It takes a little alcohol, early morning hours, and a game of truth or dare for Gojo and Utahime to admit some difficult truths to each other.

risk/reward by ohmytheon 

No punishment had ever been more effective in making Gojo do his actual job than receiving praise from his secretary - or more grueling than when Utahime withheld it.

like a good roommate by ohmytheon

Utahime has a problem: her bed wasn't delivered to the new apartment. Her ridiculous roommate, Gojo, has a solution - but he's kind of panicking on the inside.

aware of us by halspur 

“We did alright, didn’t we?” Gojo put his phone down after taking several dozen photos of Tsumiki walking across the stage, his eyes soft. “I mean, we were just kids, too.”

love song by halspur

“Because you’re weak.” Gojo said, muffled into the thin skin of her throat. “I can’t leave you alone.”

tear you apart by halspur

“I don’t want to be mean to you,” Utahime’s cheek was pressed into his spine, her voice muffled. “I like you.”

cuddles are for clean boyfriends by just_trying_my_best_everyday

Utahime finds Gojo Satoru sitting right behind the door, blindfold hanging on his neck, completely soaked in blood and petting her cat with both hands. And he stinks.

honey by florieneofthesea

Gojo Satoru experiences love a decade before he fully realises it.

roots by florieneofthesea 

At the start of winter, Utahime starts to cough up blood. She thinks maybe its just the lingering damage from her last mission, but the coughing persists and it starts to scratch her throat, and itch at her lungs and when she finally makes the trip to Tokyo to ask Shoko for her help, she doesn't even get the first word out. Shoko welcomes her at the entrance to Tokyo Metropolitan Technical School and Utahime hacks up a single, pale blue petal, smattered with blood. She stares down at the flora on the ground and wonders if she's been cursed. Utahime looks up, and Shoko's eyes are wide.

to have and to hold by ashittywriter

“M’sorry," Gojo said his voice slurring at the end. "But please go away, I have a girlfriend." Utahime blinked in confusion. What the fuck? 

souvenir by PrettyKittyLuvsU

“Aha!” Gojo tugged something out of his pocket, his long fingers curled around it as he held his hand behind his back. His other hand waved before him, a cheeky grin splitting his lips. “Ora, ora! Hold out your hand.” Utahime stared flatly. “Ora, ora!” Gojo persisted, continuing to wave his hand as he grinned. “Hold out your hand already!” Utahime scowled at the hand swaying infront of her face. She had half a mind to slap the man instead, but her students were closely watching. Even Gojo’s students, the second years mainly—for Sukuna’s vessel was apologizing profusely as the brown haired girl continued kicking him while the quiet one made no effort to stop her— looked in fascination at whatever ridiculous souvenir Gojo wanted to hand her. Utahime slowly lifted her arm, already planning on throwing the thing back in Gojo’s annoying face. Gojo gets Utahime a very special kind of souvenir. Set during the start of the Goodwill arc.

dayum this exposes me huh? i do be reading a lot but what can i say i love to see it. all these fics are amazing, to the writers y’all are doing fantastically like my goodness you be really putting ya girl in a loop with some of these fics with your plot-lines and doing it flawlessly. can’t thank them enough for them, their hard work and time!

be sure to show the writers some love and support with comments, bookmarks and fight that dayum kudos button when it smiles at you because lemme leave more—

i think they’d really really appreciate it when they hear the bing and be sure to check out all of their stories including the ones in the pairing tag! happy readings 😙✨

[divinefireangel]

They Just Don't Know You

Soft Yandere! Seo Moon-Jo x F! Reader

Disclaimer: This is just a work of fiction. If this piece of fan fiction is offensive to any celebrity, fandom or culture please let me know so I can take it down. Also note that this is my version of a character or celeb, which will vary from person to person.

Author's Note: A 2nd longer fic for our lovely cannibalistic psychopath. I hate that I'm attracted to him. Someone please be my therapist. Or psychiatrist. Honestly doesn't matter. My brain is fucked anyway.

Copyright: Please note that this is my work and if you want to publish this on any other platform, take my permission before doing so. Taking an author's work and posting it somewhere else without any intimation is just disrespectful. I readily welcome suggestions and criticisms. That being said, Happy reading! 🤍

Warnings: 16+ and written for female reader, but all can read. (nothing specified with respect to appearance, etc of reader). Except that I've mentioned reader is short, cuz LDW is tall 🥰. There is a brief mention of sex, but no actual smut. Reader kinda highkey hates on her parents and younger sister. Read it to know. Age gap between reader and Moon-Jo. Slight obsessive thoughts. Manipulative words. I tried to put plot twist in the end, probably you won't notice it 💀. Please please tell me if I need to add more warnings. Do not read if you start to feel uncomfortable. I apologize in advance 🥺

❗❗PLEASE READ WARNINGS ❗❗

Pre-Requisite / Summary: Just a fic based on the song They Just Don't Know You by Little Mix. After watching Strangers from hell I related this song to him for some reason. Reader and Moon-Jo are in an established relationship. And reader's loved ones don't approve.

2.3k ish words My longest fic till date 🥳

" You know that he's too old for you. You can settle for younger, much younger guys for your age sweetheart. If you can't find anyone eligible enough, we will find one for you. And you don't even know if he has intentions of marrying you. What if all he wants is just a fling or some time pass relationship. Hmm? What are you going to do then? "

Sipping her tea silently, Y/N sat next to her dad on the porch swing, listening to all the criticisms he had about Moon-Jo. All his words did was boil her blood. But what could she do when they don't walk in her shoes? They don't know how safe and content she feels when he kisses her like she's the only girl for him in the entire universe. And no point in explaining that to her father anyway. She's tried. And failed. Multiple times.

"Are you done with your tea?" She asks her dad, in desperate attempt to try and get away from him and his words because she knows, and even he knows that it's going to end up in a fight if they continue to speak on the same topic.

Humming yes, he hands her his tea cup which she takes to the kitchen so she can help her mom with dinner. Placing them in the sink upon entering the kitchen, Y/N drags her palms down her face in frustration.

" I could hear what he said you know. Your dad. He's not wrong. Seo Moon-Jo seems like he'll break your heart in three. And we're only looking out for you Y/N. You don't have to go through heartbreak when you can very well avoid it." Her mom finished slowly.

" Why. Why is it so difficult for you to accept the fact that I'm actually in a happy relationship for once in my life. So what if he's much older than I am? He's a dentist. A doctor. A very good profession and he's known and well respected in his neighbourhood too. " Y/N said loud enough for her dad also to hear.

Huffing in annoyance she left the kitchen to go upstairs to her room. Or rather the room she shares with her sister. Of course the door is wide open. The younger rascal is always here for the drama.

Ever since Y/N came out to her family about her relationship with Moon-Jo, her sister has become the favourite child, for obvious reasons. And now eavesdropping with the door wide open? That's a new low. But what else can Y/N expect from such a low life who is literally thriving off her own sister's pain and suffering.

When entering the room, Y/N realizes how big a mistake it was to visit her family. And she did not need such snark from a younger, less experienced child.

"Are you that blinded by " Love " that you don't even see how weird his hair is? A man who isn't an idol or actor doesn't need such long hair. He's clearly a fuckboy. Or man whore. Whichever is right. " She said with disgust.

'She's just jealous. She's just a jealous bitch. They all are.' Y/N thinks to herself.

" At least one of us gets laid regularly. And just so you know, it's absolutely heavenly when he makes me cum over and over on his fingers and his dick-" Y/N said as her tone slowly got lower and darker and her emotion angrier.

Screaming and covering her ears, the younger girl ran downstairs to her mother, no doubt to tattle on her older sister. Rolling her eyes, Y/N started packing her things, all of them, in a bag she took down from the top shelf of the wardrobe.

It's really difficult to leave one's family, but it is clearly getting more and more tiresome to love them nowadays. If it's so wrong to date him, why does Y/N herself not see it? She's a logical and smart young lady. Does her family hate that man so much that they don't even want her to be happy? No matter who she's with. And is it so bad to date a man who's older? Richer? And cares more about her than all of her family members combined?

Wiping the fallen tear stains from her cheek, she just thinks to herself ' They just don't know him. They just don't know him like I do. '

Sending a text to her lover, saying that she misses him and that she's coming back home sooner than planned, Y/N carries her bag through the front door, her parents and sister ignoring her as she leaves and walks out that door one final time.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Once reaching their shared apartment, Y/N collapsed into her lover's arms the moment he opens the door, crying her eyes out. Seeing his lover in turmoil, shedding a tear or two of his own, Moon-Jo carries her to the living room couch to cradle her like a child who needs attention.

" They- They said -"

" Shh my darling. I know. " Moon-Jo said, shushing his girlfriend and giving her a shoulder to cry on. Once she's calmed a little, her sobs turning to sniffs, she lifts her head to meet his gaze.

Seeing her sad, tear stained eyes always upset him. More than anything in the world. Running his long slender fingers across her cheeks and jaw, he removes her hair from her ponytail with his free hand and rests it on her thigh.

" Tell me. Please tell me that you won't break my heart like them. That you won't try to tear my world apart like them. " Y/N looked desperately at him, wanting so badly to know that he's not just using her.

Those words, that slipped out her mouth, shocked Moon-Jo, to say the least. What did he do wrong? What did her family fill her head with?

Tilting his head to a little, he looks into her red eyes, trying to read her mind for a moment, all the while she just looked at him with the same desperate expression.

"Please tell me that you will be there when I need you the most. " Y/N whispered so softly, she herself barely heard it. But the end of the sentence, she started crying all over again.

Taking her head to his neck, he stroked her hair and her sides, trying to calm her down.

" Darling. I promise with my everything, that I will never leave you, I will never ever let you go. That I will do anything, anything necessary to prove my love to you. "

"No, oh dear no. That's not, you don't have- have to do anything at all to make me believe you love me. I'm sorry I asked such a stupid question. " She sobbed out.

Shushing her softly again, he rocks their bodies back and forth, till she's calmed and fallen asleep there, in his arms. Knowing that his arms are her only safe place for her from now on, he takes her delicate figure to the bedroom.

Placing her on her side of the bed, he lays down on his. Staring at her stunning face, he feather touches her face with his fingertips, memorizing every curve, every little detail on her, like a sculptor admiring his work and giving it the finishing touches.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

" So, I did a little digging on your sugar daddy. "

" Why?! And he's not my sugar daddy. " Y/N said in disbelief. No. Not her dear best friend too.

" I know you said not to and I'm sorry. But I am worried about you. He made you leave your family Y/N. " They stated with worry and sympathy.

" No. He didn't make me leave them. I left them by choice. They don't see him like I do. And clearly, they hate that I'm happy with him. " Y/N finished as they sat down at the lunch table.

" Y/N..... "

" What? Even you don't want me to be happy? " She questioned her friend in disbelief. Laughing sarcastically Y/N shook her head.

" I've heard rumours! Okay? He was in the orphanage that had that severe fire explosion. And most of the culprits from that incident are MIA. What if he's one of the people who caused it?! " They said in a whisper, worried that the neighbouring people can hear their conversation.

" Do you really think that? All of that is just a rumour. And he's told me about it. He's told me everything. Unlike my parents who so desperately tried to tie me down to an arranged marriage. "

" He's not good for you. I know you deserve better. Okay he may make happy and all but what if he leaves? What if he just uses you and drops you like you were nothing? We're just trying to make sure you don't get hurt Y/N. Physically and emotionally. " They finished.

" This, all what you said, is cheap talk. But it'll eventually wear down because when we get married and have kids and all that in the future, you're all going to look like fools. And I will proudly say ' I told you so '. "

" If that's the case then I am the happiest person for you. Hopefully I won't have to be the one to say ' I told you so'. "

" Wow. I, just- hah. Wow. Just wow. " She paused.

" You know, I really hoped you would be more supportive or at least tolerant enough to have patience and support me with my decision for my love. " Y/N said loud enough for eavesdroppers to hear audibly.

Of all the people she would have to drop, never even in her nightmares had she fathomed that her best friend would be one.

Getting up from the table, she picks up her bag and leaves without another word, and goes to the only place that has love for her and that accepts her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Reaching home, Y/N notices the place empty. Maybe he's at the clinic?

Shrugging off her bag and jacket she sits on the couch for a moment, before her restlessness takes over and she begins pacing in the living room.

Why are people being like this? Do they hate her so much? They barely know him. Why are they treating and accusing him to be such a criminal! He's not. He takes care of Y/N so much. He loves her so much. He provides for her. He's affectionate with her, more than he's told he thought capable. He's become her ride or die. And she, his.

They don't know him like I do. They will never love me like he does.

They don't know about the love they have. The just see what they want to see. Bloody society dictating whom to love and whom to not. Is it so hard to see the love they have for each other? Can't they just let it be. They don't know the turmoil she's gone through recently; they don't know how well he's taken care of her, kept her happy and same enough to not let her intrusive thoughts get the best of her.

Her thoughts interrupted by the door clicking open. Smiling, Moon-Jo enters with a box, surely containing sweets from her favourite bakery. How can you not love someone so considerate, who does things for you without even having to ask.

Seeing the sad look upon his lover's face, Moon-Jo's smile fades into a frown.

" What's wrong my dear? "

Smiling sadly Y/N just shakes her head, conveying that she doesn't want to talk about it.

Placing the box of sweets on the coffee table, the two hug each other, feeling of comfort taking over them both. She can just stay here, forever, in his arms till the world ends.

" Babe. What's wrong? You can tell me anything. Anything at all. I'll take care of the problem. " Delicately Moon-Jo cradles Y/N's head in his palms, making her face up to him, their height difference evident.

Sighing, she moves to sit on the couch, motioning him to do the same. " It's just people. And what they say. My family was one thing, but my best friend, the person I chose as my family " Pausing Y/N breathers the tears back in, " They were doubtful of you today. How can I live knowing that no one will approve of us? " Y/N questioned looking at him.

" Does their opinion really matter that much? So much so that you are skeptical of my affection to you? " Coldly, he moved back from his seat on the couch.

" No! No. Gosh that is not what I mean. Not at all. I love you and I know that you love me. So much. So much so I would die for you. But there are other people whom I care about. Who's opinions matter to me. And I don't want to let them go. As happy as I am with you, I need them too. They give me joy in a different way, that is important. "

" Do I not make you happy? Are you not content with the love I give you? Is it not enough? " He asks carefully.

" That's not what I meant! You love me more than anyone I've known. "

"Then what's the problem? You don't need those people who don't love you. You have me. You will have me forever and ever. I will never leave you. And you will never leave me either. We'll be with each other till the end of the world darling. "

Nodding with a small smile you looked down at your feet.

Unhappy with your action, Moon-Jo pulls your face up by your chin to look at him with such force, it scared you a little, making your heart skip a beat in fear.

" Do you not love me, babe? " He asked tilting his head to a side, his expression mildly offended.

" I do! I love you. So much. " You finished with a soft tone, cupping his face with your hands.

Grinning like a Cheshire Cat, Moon-Jo leaned down to capture your lips with his. Reacting immediately, you kissed him with as much energy and sincerity you could muster, as you head filled with thoughts of doubt.

Had your parents been right? Had for friend been right? Had they all been right all along and you too blind to see?

No. It can't be. He loves you. He's said that so many times. And you love him.

You love him.

You.

Love.

Him.

...

Do you love him, or have you been illusioned into loving him?

[i-need-air]

Hybrid!AU Wolf!Bakugou Katsuki HCs.

Summary: How would Hybrid!Bakugou would react to being adopted by the reader and their domestic life together. Headcanons and believe me, it's a long one... [2k WORDS OF HCS psjxksdj stop me pls] PLATONIC/ROOMMATES HCS, will do a part two later on with continuation and romance cuz 2kwordsbro...

Notes: I love Hybrid AU!s and I want to indulge myself with this. I barely see these in the fandom, so maybe you guys will like it! Also, depending on how it goes, I'm gonna consider making more for other characters, whachu say? Tell me what you thought and I hope you enjoy!~ ♥

Part 2 here!

× he's a wolf hybrid, and the workers at the shelter warn you that he's feral as you pass by where he was locked

× it seems he was in an illegal fighting ring and nobody could get close to him even if his living conditions now were much better than the hell hole he lived in before

× he growled, scratched, yelled, overall he needed so much help

× normally that would've been very intimidating to you but while the workers tried to push you towards some bunny or dog hybrids they had around, you just froze because the mf said they were considering sacrificing him

× like wHat the fuck?? he's a human being?????? sure he has a tail but what????????

× and you just foken went crazy for a moment cuz you didn't even see him in his cage, he was hiding somewhere under the bundle of blankets he had, probably asleep

× so you just went mental, demanding an explanation because hybrid shelters do not and should not sacrifice a person

× and your increasing yelling just made all the hybrids anxious

× and Bakugou heard everything [who wouldn't]

× i shit you not, the employee tried to explain why

× legit said cuz he's aggressive

× Bitch I'd be aggressive too! I'd bite your jugular off

× course, security was called but you already prepared to call the police, Hybrid Protection Services, your lawyer, your friends, the president, you name it

× and that's when you said you're adopting whoever was under the blankets. NOW.

× always hated the word adopting, but you were looking to give a hybrid a chance since you finally had a spare bedroom in your new apartment

× so like security and the worker just look at each other cuz who tf is gonna be the brave soul to go inside the cage to retrieve Bakugou Katsuki and get rid of you both already

× you're just staring at them like u srs bro? so you just send them to do the paperwork while you decide to go in yourself because you needed to get out of that place ASAP to still contact HPS on this shelter

× security stayed by the door while you hesitantly walked towards the blanket bundle [not so brave anymore] cuz why did that dude have his gun out??????

× but when you approached the bundle and kneeled in front of it you noticed movement

× a fluffy sand yellow tail suddenly came to view and it was big, slowly moving from side to side

× so with the gentlest voice you could muster [after screaming your lungs out moments ago] you tried to talk to whoever was underneath

× you introduced yourself and said you're here to take them home but got nothing, just casual tail movement

× Big Hunkus Brutus Security Guardus™ was getting impatient so he told you to just "fuckin put the collar and leash on the stupid beast" and you just 🙃 fucking excuse u?? while turning towards him

× it was a delicate time and you needed to take it slow, and anyway you knew you'd get that crap off your [hopefully] new friend as soon as possible

× what you didn't expect was the guard to freeze and raise his gun again, but was pointing above your head, not even looking in your eyes

× so you turn and meet a naked chest, scarred, with recent bruising on and big

× looking up you see Bakugou Katsuki, ruffled blonde hair, wild in all directions, red eyes harsh and staring at the guy behind you, only some pants on his form and tail still waving very slowly behind him

× while Chunkus Brutus trembled in place, gun shaking in hands, you were in the fuckin middle of it all

× what you didn't expect is the hybrid to take the collar in your hands and wrap it around his neck, now looking at you, expression still harsh but this time it didn't scream murder [and then grabbed a shirt, thank the heavens]

× progress? making friends? good first impressions?

× na lol you wish but that's spoilers 👀

× the process of adoption went smoothly, and when I say smoothly I mean Robustus Dumbus Brutus behind both of you with his hand still on his gun while all the workers gathered around to see the crazy insane person that adopted The Devil™, the guy that told you about the sacrificing was actually filing the paperwork as fast as possible under the intense gaze of the wolf

× and Bakugou was standing very close to you, btw, like i can feel your body heat close

× he was compliant at first, when you got in the car you started rambling about your house and how he has a room while trying to take the collar off him but he grabbed your hands

× like insanely fast, one blink and firm grip on your hands

× "i ain't gon be your fuckin pet, understood?" he growled at you but made no movement to bolt and run away

× and you just wanted to roll your eyes cuz ok he can kill you anytime but like didn't he get the message when you screamed back there? [also there was this sense of security you had around him or maybe you were just really dumb]

× so when you said you weren't looking for a pet but to help someone and maybe a friend and roommate, he just narrowed his eyes at you

× suspish human, wild doggo no trust

× anywho he took the collar off himself [like extra fast] but you explained that you are going to get him a bracelet or something less degrading since he still needed something with the information tag to have on himself so police will know he's no stray and he wouldn't end in the same craphole again

× journey home was silent, like eery silent

× he just looked out the window intensely, you noticed how he focused on every sign and turn

× you considered asking him questions but honestly with his past you doubted he would even answer so you just started to ramble about your home, stuff you could do around the city [which caught his attention], items you'd have to go buy for him, like clothes, shampoo, any special food, the bracelet

× he stopped looking out the window and just looked at you

× ok he was intensely staring at your side, basically drilling a hole in your cheek with those crimson eyes and it was making you N e r v o u s because making new friends is hard when you're just vomiting monologs, all while driving

× buying things was awkward to say at least, special hybrid stores were rare and for a guy his size it was even more difficult to find anything, which ended up in getting normal clothes and deciding to adjust them for his tail

× while grocery shopping you discovered he actually knew very well what he wanted after a lot of questioning from you

× he finally sighed at your persistent act and just threw stuff in the shopping cart, a surprising amount of spices too

× now for the bracelet part... you decided to spend more on a code that could be scanned to identify him rather than the distasteful ones with name and who owns him

× good thing you planned ahead a long time ago and saved money but you did notice his sharp eyes on you whenever you paid

× and his grunts and judgemental looks at other people with hybrids

× it's as if he wanted to say something, anything, but was stopping himself, which lowkey worried you because from what you heard Bakugou's supposed to be very vocal

× maybe he was glad to be out of the shelter, you know you'd be

× you get home and he follows you to your house, again giving him another chance to bolt somewhere away from you but c'mon both of you knew he'd outrun you so why force him, just let him take his time

× "So this is your room" shook him to the core, legit he just stood silent in the hallway as you presented your house calmly

× sniffing around

× so much sniffing around, tail low while he checked every corner

× once he did decide to check his bedroom, he closed the door leaving you to set everything up

× what you didn't know is that he looked around, shaking with anger

× this is what normal people have?

× sat on the edge of the most confortable bed he's ever had and hoped the idiots of his friends managed to get something like this too

× and the shitshow began when you called him for dinner

× not enough salt, not enough spices

× he was a pain in the ass and as he let go, little by little you started to see him for who he was

× this, this was Bakugou Katsuki, the guy that started to scold you because of the seasoning of the food

× it formed a bond between you, the start of you seeing his real personality

× a Mom™

× slowly started owning the house, although you found it hilarious

× next day you found him cooking breakfast with such an ease it shocked you to the core

× "The fuck you lookin' at?" as he puts a plate of pancakes in front of your

× you just lowkey uwu when you realize he's waiting for your approval as you ate and I swear to you, best pancakes ever

× chest puffed when you complimented his food and this was the first time he mentioned something about his past; seems he had to cook for everyone at the fighting ring he was at, but he didn't mention more

× talking about his past took forever, putting together bits and pieces he mentioned, yet they were so little

× he'd go silent after mentioning his [what you assumed] friends

× if you asked or pressed too much he'd click his tongue or snap at you

× not everything was dandy though; yes, he was a good roommate, but he did have THE attitude

× but not as the people at the shelter made it to be, like he'd snap at you from time to time but it would get better as he'd start to trust you

× ok, ok, hear me out,,,,

× play with his hair

× it happened by accident; you started to have this tradition after a couple of months of living together: movie nights

× he really liked action stuff but both your dirty secret was watching those shitty horror movies and make fun of everyone in them, so every Friday Night was Movie Night

× he just threw himself on the couch and his hair looked puffy and those adorable wolf ears were twitching, you straightforwardly asked him if you could play with it

× [ask if you don't want your hand bit off]

× he scoffed

× silence

× when he nodded and looked away, you squealed and started scratching, just playing with his hair, mindlessly doing so while snickering at the TV when movement caught your attention

× he was wiggling his tail softly

× you guys never mentioned it but now he sits down on the sofa head close to you on a pillow and wait for them god sent scratches; will 100% roll his eyes and scoff at you when you start, acting like YOU want this

× TERRITORIAL AS FUCK

× seriously glares at whoever comes inside the house

× has a problem with every single soul since they dirty his home

× you don't notice it first but he finally starts calling your house home and that's the ultimate progress

× boy had a lot of hardships in his life so he appreciates what he has

× yet it is very, very hard to gain his trust at first

× when you finally do though? he's a loyal friend forever

× he's thankful to have you

× will never ever ever ever ever ever ever ever tell you

× his actions speak for him

× you're part of his pack now

× but seriously wash the dishes or you'll die.

[ramzawrites]

Can I request a scenario of SMP members meeting reader who is a Warden hybrid? (I know the caves and cliffs update has yet to come but I like the Warden and I think they need more love.)

Warden!Reader meets the SMP

GN

Pairings: none

Characters included: Fundy, Ranboo, Philza, Niki, (mentioned) Tommy, (mentioned) Tubbo, (mentioned) Dream

Warnings: N/A

Series: A drabble request :)

Summary: Fundy and Ranboo wanted to do some mining together, maybe even make it a competition, in a new cave that Fundy found only to meet a new person.

Word count: 2578

Authors Note: My ADHD kinda went wild at the end so this might seem a bit more disconnected and rushed and I apologize for that. I also hope you are happy with this, you may always give me feedback or tell me if I got it wrong :] I might get back to this someday to write something more involved but college is kicking my ass :|

„I swear to you no one has been here yet. It should be full with resources!” Fundy rambled as he checked his equipment out one last time. His trusty netherite pickaxe resting on his shoulder.

Ranboo was holding onto his pickaxe with both of his hands. His body language screamed nervous but his expression was that of doubt.

“This isn’t too far out from L’Manberg. I bet they already mined it dry also if you have been here already how can I be sure you haven’t scouted out the best place yet?”

Fundy just rolled his eyes and continued to walk inside the cave that seemed to be surprisingly big and led further down into the depths “I have not. Besides you’ll be mining right next to me so you can basically check up on me. The wager still stands?”

The Endermen Hybrid sighed “Yes, sure. Let’s just get this over with. I won last time anyhow so let’s just do it.”

For some reason Fundy approached Ranboo again for another mining competition. Was it revenge for last time? Who knew. Ranboo just knew he didn’t have anything better to do and hey, he might find some diamonds or other useful minerals.

As they walked deeper into the cave Ranboo soon noticed the rather weird fauna covering the floor, walls and ceiling. When he checked for a reaction from Fundy he too seemed enamored with the plants. If anything this was probably proof that he was indeed never inside here.

Fundy opened up his backpack and got a torch out which begun burning with a fast flick of his flint and steel. While both had semi good eyes when it came to the dark due to their hybrid side they were still surprised when they saw everything in a better light.

There were especially a lot of vines snaking around the walls that carried some sort of orange fruit.

“I have never seen anything like this” Ranboo mumbled in awe “Well, I think”

Fundy nodded “Mhm, me neither. This is amazing!”

As he yelled that out both heard a rustling coming from behind them. Before they could react properly Fundy was crying out and flew through their landing a few feet further into the cave.

“Fundy!” Ranboo yelled out surprised. He ran over to his friend and got his sword out. What in the world was that?

The fox Hybrid was coughing and clambering for breath, his eyes wide in shock from whatever just hit him. Not sure what to do in this situation Ranboo put one of his hands on his back as a sign that he had his back but still positioned himself with the sword in front of Fundy. That’s when he finally saw what hit him and threw him through the air.

It was a person. A hybrid by the looks of it.

They were standing in front of him, tense and ready to jump in for another attack. Their eyes were directed towards the ground. White orbs that seemed to look unfocused. On their head were beautiful greenish antlers that wove around in on themselves. It reminded Ranboo of twigs bound together while moss was growing on it. These antlers were more or less directed towards them.

Scared that this might be the sign for another attack Ranboo yelled out a soft “I’m sorry! I have no idea what we did but we are sorry!”

For some reason this seemed to work. The person seemed to be still in their attack mode but their shoulders relaxed a little bit “Then go. This is my home. Leave.”

“Oh my god you are a Warden Hybrid.” Fundy suddenly rasped out.

“A what?”

“You know of us?”

Fundy nodded and got back up, he was still a bit taken aback from the punch against his back “I only heard and read a bit about Wardens. They are strong, blind creatures that detect vibrations via their antlers. It’s said that Wardens are so strong they could kill a human in full netherite armor with just two punches at best. Now, I can see that you are blind, have antlers and you are certainly strong. I’ll give you that.”

The Warden Hybrid looked conflicted. They put their arms back down but looked still tense “Yes, that’s pretty much it. So, if you weren’t here for finding more about Wardens or even hunt us? What are you doing in my cave?”

This surprised Ranboo. They were still very wary of the two but they also seemed to be curious. Maybe it was just nature or they didn’t get the chance to talk to other people much and now used their chance. Whatever it was, Ranboo was glad for it. He didn’t look forward to being flung through the air like Fundy if he could avoid it.

“Uh” Ranbo nervously scratched the back of his head “We wanted to go mine and make it a competition. Didn’t know someone was living here which is surprising since this cave is actually pretty close to our main city.”

The stranger perked up at that “A city? With more of you?”

The two nodded in response only to realize that the Warden couldn’t see it so Fundy spoke up “Yeah. Do you- Do you wanna see, uh, visit it? We could introduce you to more people.”

They looked unsure but slowly nodded “Only if you promise me that if everything is too much for me, since I haven’t talked to people a lot, you will lead me back here.”

Ranboo let out a deep sigh. For some reason he was scared of their reaction “As a fellow socially awkward Hybrid I promise you we will do that.”

“You are a Hybrid?” They sounded so surprised, almost shocked at that.

That reminded him “Oh, yes. I guess we should properly introduce ourselves. I’m Ranboo, an Enderman Hybrid and my friend whom you punched is Fundy, a Fox Hybrid.”

“My name is Y/N” they introduced themself. “And I’m sorry for punching you. I just thought you were here to kill me.”

While Fundy was frowning, obviously not happy with this he sighed “Yeah, it’s alright. I understand.”

Together the group walked out the cave. Both Fundy and Ranboo had to get used to the light while Y/N was curiously spinning around, probably looking out for any vibrations their antlers picked up on.

It was actually surprising how difficult it was to lead Y/N back to the city. They would always get distracted by anything that moved or made sounds around them. It didn’t help that both were lowkey absolutely terrified of them.

Every now and again Fundy would rub his back. Honestly if there wasn’t a huge bruise that would be the most surprising thing about this situation.

At some point they finally reached L’Manberg and it seemed as busy as usual. Meaning it was a calm day with a few people around. Most just spent their time on their own somewhere outside the city dealing with their own projects.

The first person they came across was Niki who was busy carrying a few packets of seeds in her arms. As soon as she saw the two Hybrids she came walking over with a big smile and a wave.

“Oh! Hey guys! Who is that?”

Y/N tensed up as soon as they could tell that someone was running over to them and refused to move.

“Hey, Niki. We wanted to go mining but met Y/N here. We are showing them the city and wanted to introduce them to the people here.” Fundy explained.

Niki nodded, taking the information in “Well, it’s nice to meet you Y/N. My name is Niki. If the two are too troublesome you can always come to me for help. Also I’m sorry if this comes off as rude but I really love your antlers. They look really pretty. Can I ask what kind of Hybrid you are?”

“They do?” Y/N blurted out. An embarrassed blush appeared on their face “Oh, uh, I’m a Warden Hybid.”

Niki didn’t know what a Warden was so Ranboo gave her a short rundown, including mentioning how Y/N just threw Fundy through the air as if it was nothing. Not that he really saw it besides the flying part.

“That sounds amazing!” Niki marveled. Fundy gasped in anger at that.

Niki readjusted the seeds she was holding on to “Okay, I have to go since Puffy is waiting for me but I hope you have a good day here Y/N. I think Phil is in the middle of the city right now working on his house if you guys want to see him. Actually got these seeds from him!”

Everyone said their goodbyes and watched as Niki continued walking. A bit worried Ranboo took a good look at how Y/N was doing. While they looked nervous they still had a smile on their face. He assumed they were having fun.

“You good? Want to meet Phil? He is my grandfather, actually. He is usually a nice dude.”

Y/N massaged their own hands “Yes, this is good. I mean yeah, uh, yes. I’m nervous but I’m enjoying it.”

Fundy gave them one more look over before they continued walking, leading them into the heart of the city and indeed Phil was walking around his house deep in thought. Probably thinking about on how to improve his little abode.

“Grandpa!” Fundy yelled out happily which made Y/N flinch for a second.

Philza swiveled around only to stare at the group in shock “Oh my god.”

“We met someone new!” Fundy explained excitedly.

“Yeah, I can see that!” he yelled out.

Y/N wasn’t sure if that was good thing or not. This Philza seemed certainly surprised but they didn’t know if that was a good surprised or a bad, though if that was Fundy’s grandpa they were inclined to believe it was a good sign. They only held onto to this belief because otherwise they would be too scared to do anything.

Philza cautiously eyed Y/N “Who is that?”

For some reason Fundy seemed so proud of himself “This is Y/N and they are a Warden Hybrid.”

“Yeah, I know that! I’m just surprised that they are following you two so willingly. Wardens are usually wary if not downright hostile to other people! What did you guys do?” honestly Philza sounded more offended that Fundy dared to think he didn’t know what a Warden was. Which was fair to be honest. If anyone here knows anything about Wardens it’s probably Philza.

He didn’t wait for an answer from the two troublemaker but instead turned to Y/N “I’m really sorry if the two roped you into this. I’m Philza, by the way.”

Surprised Y/N shook their head and used their hands as well to gesticulate that they were alright “No, no, everything is alright. They offered to introduce me to some people. I don’t get the chance to talk to people often so I agreed.”

This seemed to calm Philza down and his worried expression got exchanged by that of awe “Wow. I have never seen a Warden Hybrid. I wonder what traits you have inherited.”

“Oh! They are strong!” Ranboo suddenly interjected. Fundy seemingly was still not over being flung around since he was glaring at Ranboo once he said that. To be fair he wouldn’t stop bringing it up to everyone.

Philza laughed “I feel like there is a story to it.”

“It was my fault. He scared me and I overreacted.” Y/N begun explaining what happened and how they now ended up here in the city talking to Phil. He seemed understanding but still lectured the others for being not cautious enough.

He asked a few more questions, mostly to make sure Y/N was doing alright and felt comfortable but after they sufficiently calmed him down he decided to continue with his project and leave you guys be.

Both Fundy and Ranboo showed Y/N around a bit in hopes of meeting other people but it seemed the city was empty. Apparently Tubbo was off doing something somewhere and when Ranboo offered to venture out to find them Y/N said that they were feeling a tiny bit overwhelmed and would prefer to go back to their little cave.

Ranboo didn’t hesitate and help them find their home again, Y/N even showed him the hidden little nook they were living in as thanks. It had a bed and a ton of little things and baubles they apparently made themself with the weird plants and vines of the cave. Even offered Ranboo to eat one of the weird orange fruits that hung off of the vines. It tasted a bit weird but good nonetheless. It was certainly different and Ranboo wasn’t sure if that is something he would eat a lot. Y/N seemed to enjoy it a lot though which he made sure to write down in his little memory book.

The next day Ranboo and Fundy met up again to look for Y/N. They would hang out with them for a bit but leave them alone after a short while.

This would become their routine for a while. Always checking in on Y/N at least once a day even just for a few minutes. Bringing them things that they think could be interesting for them and now and then Y/N would ask to visit the city again.

Over time the rest of the SMP learned of them as well. Most were surprised and baffled when they met them. A lot haven’t heard of Wardens and the few people that have like Philza, Dream, Fundy and Techno showed a healthy amount of respect towards them. Especially after hearing of their strength.

For quite some time whenever Y/N came to visit, which would happen more frequently and at points on their own accord, Dream would hang around them. Keeping his eyes on them. They didn’t know what to make of that but seeing as he owned these lands they felt not comfortable with telling him off for it. He tried to sneak around but Y/N’s antlers would pick it up most of the time.

Tommy loved to hang out with Y/N. He was absolutely amazed by their ability to sense almost everything around them as well as being amazed by their strength. Just to test this he asked them once to have a bit of a competition of how far the two could throw different things. It was no real competition. Y/N won easily.

Tubbo usually watched and joked with them and while he too was amazed with their abilities he was a bit more reserved, though once the shenanigans started he was very much involved with everything.

In the end they became so involved with everyone in some way that they offered them to build a home for themself in the city. Y/N didn’t immediately jump on that idea though it took them a few days before they agreed to build a house in L’Manberg. They did point out though they will probably still spent more time in their cave. Nonetheless a lot of people came together to help me them set up their own home.

It confused Y/N a bit at first that so many would come together for them. It made them feel good though and even safe. Maybe living inside of L’Manberg wouldn’t be so bad if the others are around.

[edoro]

🥺, 🤡, 🎯, 🤗

🥺 - Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels? - ohhhh yes. so many but i think special shoutout to

abuse disclosure, i have written, what, four of those by now? i absolutely love getting someone to tell someone else what's happened to them, especially when they have trouble sharing, or when it's difficult and messy and weird. most of the ones i've written have been more soft, willing (if nervous) disclosures, but i honestly really love the one i wrote in A Deeper Understanding where Hunter just hurls it at Darius in the middle of an argument to try and hurt him, i love it when people use their own trauma as a weapon, i could read that all day.

very similar vein, but, the genre of fic where it's "people observing someone else and realizing slowly exactly how fucked up they are", which i've so far spent 80k words doing in PTB and am not tired of yet.

actually have not written nearly as much of this as i would LIKE but sex scenes where one or both people have Trauma(TM) and they end up finding a way to be intimate with each other that doesn't work like Normal Average Regular Sex. i get so emotional over the concept of Therapeutic Kink.

🤡 - What’s a line, scene, or exchange you’ve written that made you laugh? - okay pretty much every interaction that Hunter and Luz have in every human touch before Philip shows up to make everything so much worse is very funny to me.

What is his name, again? It’s on the tip of her tongue, but she can’t think around her thwarted panic at being dragged away when she’s so close. It was sort of funny, she remembers that, kind of redneck vibes… Tanner? Skeeter? No, she would remember if she met a Skeeter. 

🎯 - Have any of your readers accurately guessed major plot points? Care to share which? - someone in the comments on Paint The Blood got me dead to fucking rights about what's going on in the fic and figuring out how to respond to them (bc i respond to most comments, so ignoring that one would have looked suspicious) while neither confirming nor denying was probably the hardest thing i've ever done.

(under a cut bc the answer to the last question is long)

🤗 - What advice would you give to new fanfic writers that are just getting started? - oooh. hmm. hmmm...

i think one of the biggest things for me is having people who i can workshop ideas with. everyone has their own process but i find that i generally figure out how a story is going to go by talking through it, and rubber duck debugging (basically just problem-solving by explaining the problem out loud to someone or something else) is incredibly effective.

ALSO, having people who are invested in your stories and get hype about them and who you can talk to about the sick plot twists coming up and stuff is really effective in motivating me to write; i have a person who has read SO many handwritten pages of the first draft of PTB and those pages absolutely would not exist without them.

it is important imo to not link up like, your sense of self/accomplishment/worthiness with how much or what kind of feedback your fic gets, though. like, yes, getting feedback and engagement and interaction feels GREAT, not getting it sucks, and getting it vs not getting it can often be the difference between feeling motivated to finish a project and not, and that's fine, but you CANNOT let yourself fall into the trap of letting the popularity of your works dictate your self-esteem, because that will destroy your urge to create.

don't be afraid to just be shitty! if you're stuck on something, play a game i like to call Lower! Those! Standards! and just write it in a basic, boring, crappy way. you can come back to fix it later, or you might find out that actually what you think of as the 'shitty' way is fine, but either way, an imperfect thing that exists is better than the perfect version that exists only in your head. also, nobody else knows what it was supposed to look like in your head, so they only have the existing version to go by.

also, experimenting with different like, organization/outline/drafting methods is fun. you don't have to have one or have any kind of System, it definitely doesn't need to be elaborate, but if you find yourself often getting stuck, it's worth it to sit down and try to figure out where, exactly, you're getting stuck AT in the writing process, what's tripping you up, and see if there's something you can tweak about how you're coming up with, writing, or organizing your stories to try to fix that problem.

(i myself have several different processes - i tend to do a thorough outline broken down scene by scene that will inevitably change a lot as i go so i don't end up going "okay now what?", bc outlining at that level of detail helps me find where i have plotholes.

i ALSO have done a lot of handwriting, bc this frees me up from blank page anxiety and allows me to just jot stuff down without worrying too much about the quality, and it's also very satisfying in a tactile way that typing isn't, so it feels more like having DONE something, and then i already did the hard work of coming up with the ideas so my typed second draft goes way faster.

i also ALSO have written pretty much all my recent fics in scrivener - you don't NEED fancy software to write, but sometimes playing around with different available word processors can help! the ability to break a work down into scenes and add individual notes per scene that i can refer to as i'm writing is immensely helpful for me.)

and, hmm... i also think... try to have fun with it! remember that you're doing this because it's fun, it's a hobby, and you should focus on the things that make YOU happy. if you want to write the same type of scene or interaction over and over again, go for it! if you want to write stuff that doesn't have a 'point' other than that it makes you happy to do so, go for it!

and honestly, don't be afraid to post WIPs. i'm bad about this, tbh, but MOST multi-chapter fics end up unfinished. getting to see a glimpse of the idea someone had and get interested in the world and imagine what it would be like and play with the idea in your own head is a lot of fun, and if you post your wip and don't end up finishing it, then someone still gets to do that with what you posted! i don't think there's really such a thing as 'wasted' writing - it sucks to have to scrap a huge chunk that took a lot of time and effort and start over, it's frustrating, but writing something you don't finish or end up changing/editing/whatever still 'counts' as having written, and imo it's still good practice. if nothing else, you figured out how you DON'T want the scene to go.

if you want to materially improve your writing significantly (which is not a requirement at all, because you can just write your stories for fun and not worry about that, but if you ARE wanting to improve):

1) write a whole fucking bunch

2) read a whole bunch

3) read critically - which doesn't mean with an eye towards criticizing, but rather, when you read, look at how the author uses things like metaphor, imagery, the rhythm of language itself, foreshadowing, exposition, etc. figure out what you like about how they describe scenes, or do dialogue, or communicate stuff about characters, or develop their world, look at how they link the parts of the plot together and how and why various emotional or plot developments work (or don't work!), look at how the characters relate to each other, look at the tricks the author pulls in the narrative in order to get you to think or feel certain ways about certain characters/events - you can do this with fanfiction, published novels, movies, games, tv shows, etc - and honestly, starting to read reviews and analysis will help you get into the mindset of thinking about things this way too.

uh... gosh... there's probably more i could say but i think that's all i can think of for now!

[7-wonders]

The Trouble With Wanting

Summary: Though life has changed for you, for the rest of the world, everything remains the same.

Word Count: 1.3K

Author's Note: Hello yes it's the beginning of Act II of Mad Love. Buckle up. Special shoutout to @mrslangdonn for being so pumped for this and making an actual meme. Really hope I didn't let you down with this.

Mad Love Act I here!

In the grand scheme of things, life has been oddly normal lately. Since being kidnapped by witches, saved by your Antichrist husband, admitting that you actually do love said Antichrist husband, and realizing that you’re potentially the only thing that can stop the end of times, the world continued turning and the days marched on. Michael did what he normally did during the days (you don’t really know what it is he does, to be honest. Probably just talking to rich people all day), and you did too. Life continued as it had been, even though it felt like your world had been changed numerous times lately. Honestly, you had expected things to be a lot more dramatic.

But no, life was almost boring now. Mallory had gone back to New Orleans to handle being the Supreme and running her coven, so besides the texts and phone calls with her to try and figure out how to convince Michael that ending the world wasn’t the right course of action to take, the vigilante talk was almost non-existent in your day-to-day life. That was also because neither of you had any idea how to actually put this plan into action. There had been ideas, of course, but none that held any weight. That may be because the best idea either of you had had was a Powerpoint that showed all of the reasons why ending the world was a bad idea, but in your opinion that was still an idea that was on the table.

Also, you assumed that professors wouldn’t take “preoccupied by your husband’s plans for world domination” as a proper excuse for you not completing your work or showing up to class. At the very least, with how turbulent your life had been, you had expected far less homework than what you’re staring at right now.

You’re sitting in your room, doing some reading for class. Surprisingly, the reading isn’t that boring. It’s certainly not fun to do, which is probably why you hear the music right away; your attention absolutely is not all that focused tonight. It catches you entirely off-guard, considering that there’s no speakers in your room and you definitely did not have any music playing from your phone. You listen for a moment, trying to place the melody.

“Is this Frankie Valli?” you question, standing up from your bed and trying to find the source. Opening up your door to see if this is an isolated incident, you find that the music is drifting throughout the house. ‘Drifting’ is probably the wrong word, since it literally sounds like there’s speakers playing “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You” that are installed in every room and hallway.

“Hi,” you say, finally coming across Michael in the living room. He’s standing there nonchalantly, which you automatically know means that he’s involved in this.

“Hi,” Michael says right back.

“Uh, what’s with the music?”

“Well, I was on my phone earlier, and I came across an article.”

Smiling, you step towards him. “You did?”

He nods. “I did, and it was extremely informative. Did you know that married couples typically have a reception after they officially get married? Apparently, they share a first dance at the reception.”

“And you believe everything you read on the internet?”

“Sometimes, if there’s some truth to what I’m reading.” You stare at him, biting back a laugh. “We’re married.”

“We are married.”

“We didn’t have a first dance when we got married.”

“No, we did not.”

Finally, Michael sighs, tired of you playing dumb. “(Y/N), may I have this dance?”

You grab Michael’s outstretched hand, letting him pull you towards him. One hand goes onto your waist, the other intertwined with yours. He begins to lead you in a simple waltz, and you’re thankful that he knows how to dance because you sure don’t. “I didn’t know you knew this song,” you comment when you realize he’s humming.

“I enjoy the classics.”

“There’s this scene from a movie, where one of the main characters--”

“You’re talking about 10 Things I Hate About You, right?” You raise an eyebrow in questioning, and he chuckles. “Madelyn loved ‘90s rom coms, and sometimes I was bored enough that I would watch them with her.”

“I’m a little impressed.”

Michael spins you around. “You should be.”

The romanticism of the whole situation is almost overwhelming. It doesn’t matter that you’re in your living room instead of a reception hall, wearing sweatpants instead of a wedding dress. You’re here with Michael, and just that is romance enough for you. You could stand here like this, with him, forever if he asked you to do so.

“What if we had an actual wedding?” Michael asks.

“We did have an actual wedding.”

“I mean one where you actually have a say in it.”

“Well that’s sweet of you, Michael, but you still haven’t taken me on a proper date.”

“My apologies.” He dips you, kissing you before bringing you back up. “How’s Paris for a first date? Maybe Greece?”

You gasp. “Seriously?”

“Absolutely. Wherever you want, whenever you want, however you want.” He punctuates each scenario with a kiss, making your body melt into him. The song ends, the house falling into silence before the music begins to repeat. But neither of you are paying attention to that any more, not when he’s staring at you in a way that makes heat pool in the bottom of your stomach.

“Michael,” you whisper, tilting your head up to kiss him again.

He reciprocates, trailing kisses down your jaw and onto your throat as his hands move up and down your sides. All too soon, he pulls away, making you groan in disappointment. “We shouldn’t, you know…”

“I know,” you lean your head against his chest with a sigh.

Of course. The main issue that’s been prevalent on both yours and Michael’s minds for weeks now: you’re married and you love each other, but sex is...not going to happen for the time being. You both absolutely, 100% want to, but, as with most things in your life, Satan seems to be the major roadblock. You just never thought that your father-in-law (who you’ve still never met) would end up cockblocking you.

Just because Michael made sure that you wouldn’t be under Satan’s influence, that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t stop trying. If anything, he’s going to try even more now that both of you had openly defied his will. And what was the one thing that Satan wanted besides the end of the world? For Michael to have an heir. And you didn’t trust any sort of contraception when it came to the supernatural powers that you had been married into. Michael completely agreed with that, especially since he knew first-hand just how easily material things (like condoms and all of the various forms of birth control) could be manipulated. So for now, until you could figure out a way to safely get it on, sex was off the table. Unfortunately.

“I’m going to go finish my reading, then.” Slowly, because neither of you particularly want to, you disentangle yourself from him.

“And I’m going to...take a shower. A cold shower.” You laugh at him, but you’re really in the same position that he is.

“Have a good night,” you say, bounding up the stairs before you can stop yourself.

“You too.” Michael also goes up the stairs, and you shut your door before you have to say something to him again. You still keep separate bedrooms, partly because you really enjoy your space and partly because you know that, given the opportunity to be laying in a bed with Michael when you’re both horny, you would totally let him fuck you.

Sliding your back down the door, you groan as you hold your head in your hands. Saving the world from the apocalypse is definitely difficult. Having to stop yourself from having sex with your incredibly hot husband? Well, that feels impossible.

//

Tag List (starting from scratch because I need a new tag list so message me if you want to be tagged!): @michaellangdon @trelaney @xavierplympton @hecohansen31 @blakescoven @we-did-it-joe @thatonehumanbeing05 @michaellangdonstanaccount

[forfuckssakejim]

WRITER ASKS!

1 & 2

7 & 8

16 & 17

18 & 20

23 & 24

26 & 27

29

Please and Thanks

This uh. Sorta got away from me so here we go:

1. When did you start writing? How?

I’ve always been a writer? I know that sounds strange but ever since I was like. A little kid. I would love filling my notebooks and journals with my writing. In kindergarten I even made the notability wall. A hallway that connected the main part of the school to the classrooms. It was filled with stellar works of creative assignments. The older grades were usually more prominently shown. I had wrote a story (like. 4 pages long) about a leprechaun for St. Patrick’s day (I’m sure my mom might still have it stashed somewhere) that cursed someone and they had to go across the country from California to Maine. I don’t remember much of it but I remember that. “Maine! But we’re in California!” And the leprechaun laughed. “Tough luck, better get walking.” And that was like? The last part of the story that had my poor teacher roaring with laughter that she had to actually walk out of the room for a moment. Mrs M (who also taught my dad and retired next year after realizing she had now taught two generations and was like “I’m too old for this”) had taken it the principal who had put it in on the wall. It had won like, favorite story of the month or something. All the kids had stopped to read it, flipping through the stapled pages that were on the wall. It was really, a very pivotal point in my life that solidified the fact that I wanted to be a writer. It’s been 20 years now and I wish I could thank Mrs M for being my first fan.

2. Has your writing changed over time?

Oh most definitely! When I first started really writing fanfiction in my FF.net days I was okay. People still loved my stories and I slowly, I changed my writing style and it grew and flourished. When I first start a fandom the fics will of course be choppy. It’s why I usually spend time writing more “meta” style fics before moving to more dialogue heavy and then towards action and scenery changes. I like to slowly explore things. I’m proud of where my writing stands today.

7. How would you describe your writing style?

Is chaotic a choice? Lol. But really? I don’t quite know where to begin. It’s messy and raw thoughts thrown into computer binary that somehow swirls and forms into the story that you read. I’m not sure what happens In between, maybe it’s witch craft, but isn’t it beautiful? Sometimes I go back and I realize a paragraph has potential to be fleshed out. Next thing I know the story is 10 paragraphs longer and I forgot where I was going with the original thought. Sometimes I’m able to bridge them back together. Sometimes I’m not successful. See if you can spot them next time you read a fic. (There’s a lot in A Love You Hate)

8. Have any comments/tags/responses on a fic of yours ever made you laugh, cry or both?

Honestly 95% of the comments I get make me so happy. But there are some that make me laugh and cry. I keep a folder of screenshots to look at when I get into a funk with my writing; if it’s just old fashioned writers block or not feeling like I’m worthy of the words (or vice versa, not feeling that my words are worthy of the story I’m trying to write) I find looking back at them helps me and gives me confidence to write more.

16. What is your favorite character (or characters) to write for?

Ohhhh that’s hard. I love writing for Spock. Always. I guess tho? Each fandom has a certain character I can relate to most which makes it easier for me? I guess? Lol.

17. What piece of writing are you most proud of?

Ohhhh. That’s a tough one hmmm. I’m really proud of From Eden, Help Me Not To Be, Okay, and Misery Business.

18. Which is more difficult, the title or the summary?

The summary totally. When in doubt with a title I usually go for song lyrics (if the fic wasn’t inspired by a song in the first place) or a line from the fic itself. Summaries are just. They’re easier if it’s a longer fic; where you can just copy and paste a paragraph and call it Gucci. But if it’s a shorter one you have to find just the right thing ton say.

20. Do you prefer to edit as you go, or once the piece is finished?

It’s funny cuz I do both! To expand on #7, if I edit once the piece is finished I tend to accidentally add another 500+ words to the story. But sometimes I edit as I write which, as I’ve learned in my writing classes, is actually a bad writing habit as it can distract your thought process from the task at hand which can actually lead to writers block. Did I try to do as my professor said and avoid editing as I wrote? Yes, and I wrote a lot of fics that way? Did I feel like I was less proud of the work I did? Yes. Because the draft/rough copy I had composed was nothing of what I wanted it to be. Mixed results on that one, some were posted; some are lost in my google drive folder.

23. Have you ever stopped yourself from writing something? Why?

Yes. Shame. Shame that I would be judged and criticized harshly for something that I had brought forth into creation’s spotlight. Feelings of dread and inadequacy also play a key role, one that I wish I could recast into joy and appreciation for what I’ve created. But sometimes, cringe culture still reaches deep inside of my brain and sometimes makes me reevaluate my whole reason for writing something in the first place. I’ve learned to step past it, labeling things as “crack” or “crack taken seriously.” And it gives me a chance. It gives me a chance to breathe.

24. Would you ever collaborate with another writer for a story?

OF FUCKING COURSE!!!!! I love collaborating with other authors!!!! Or even with artists!!!!! Literally whenever!!! Hit me up please I beg you. (Also uh. Pro tip. If I like a post; be it art or a head canon chances are I’m writing it and will be sheepishly sending you a message if I could write it. Or if we’re friends/mutuals/you’ve interacted with me while I hid in your closet admiring your wares from afar, I will literally just inbox you a link to my google folder and be like “I, Sir James, have presented an offering for their majesty! May it bring honor to your house.” There is no in between. And if we’re super duper friends and Mutuals across 5 different social media platforms (and may or may not know my dead name) I will just straight up type it all into your inbox after a solitary conversation like the greedy keyboard slut I am all while screaming as I type as you look horrified at your screen as it continues to say “Jim is typing” for twenty minutes and you are not sure which emotion you should be feeling in that span of forever.

26. Is there a specific scene or scenario you’re looking forward to most? (No, you don’t have to give away spoilers!)

Hmmmmmm. Yes. I may be working on a string of projects which is just “Normal Title of the fic that is already posted” (Jim’s Version) which is literally the unedited, full throttle angst/fluff/smut fest that the gods intended for but I was too much of a coward to go through with it.

27. Are there certain types of writing you won’t do? (style, pov, genre, tropes, etc)

(Insert Aslan Gif here of “do not cite the old magic to me witch; I was there when it was written”) I’ve been writing fanfiction for a decade. What haven’t I written? Lmao. But really??? I’m not sure if anything is not on or off the table? Merely hanging in a state of unknown levitation, leaving someone asking if it’s even there at all.

29. Best writing advice for other writers?

Just like any skill, writing takes time. You’re knot naturaly going to be good at something the first time u put you’re words into tangible form. You’re going to make missteaks, your going to misspell simple words, use the wrong form of the word. Your going to look at it and think to yourself ‘is that even makes sense?” And the answer will be know. Know that it won’t make sense, know that it’s going to look bad. You’re still learning and that’s okay. And as you learn and grow, you’ll see that things are looking better. The sentences flow better. You learn new little tips and tricks to make simple sentence structures feel like an ice pick through the heart. You’ll get there. Just know that your writing will suck. And embrace it. It’s okay to be bad. It’s okay to be awful. What isn’t okay is not have tried at all.

[writeforfandoms]

Merry Go Round of Life 9

Find my masterlist

Part 9! I’m only a day late, it’s fine. We’re meeting another character in this chapter, and I hope y’all like who we meet. I’m super excited to see how you guys like this chapter. 

This will be Din Djarin x f!reader eventually. Don’t hold your breath folks, this one’s a slow burn. Sort of.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: People being Dramatic and Irritatingly Vague. 

Chapter nine: In which there are more wizards

You and Djarin stayed quiet around each other for the next few days. He hadn’t returned from his outing until the next day, as far as you saw. By that time, the child was awake and normal again, devouring practically his weight in breakfast. Peli, for once, didn’t offer an opinion and stayed low in her logs. 

Just as you thought you were going to break down and actually apologize to the wizard (if only to break the tense silence), he surprised you by speaking first.

“I need to go see my mentor tomorrow. You two are coming with me.”

You coughed as your tea tried to go down the wrong pipe. “Beg pardon?” 

Djarin sighed. “Please come with me,” he said, completely monotone.

“Not what I meant, but I appreciate being asked,” you told him primly, setting your cup down. “Where is your mentor?” 

Djarin hesitated for a moment before he sighed. “Mandalore.” 

“Right,” you drawled, watching him. “Why are we going with you? I’m not disagreeing. I just want to know.” 

Djarin sighed again, louder this time. He also tapped his fingers against the table briefly. “I need her opinion on something,” he spoke slowly, looking over at Peli instead of you. “And I’d like you two with me.”

“Alright,” you acquiesced easily. “Tomorrow morning?”

“Yes.” Djarin’s shoulders relaxed slowly when he realized you weren’t going to put up a fight about it. “I’d like to leave early, before the markets start.”

“You’ll have to wake me, then,” you told him. “I’m not normally up that early.”

Djarin huffed something that might have been a laugh and inclined his head to you. He stood, presumably to leave, and you spoke up again.

“Your mentor. Do they wear a helmet too?”

Djarin nodded. “This is the way,” he agreed. The words sounded like more than just words, though. Like something he’d said thousands of times. You felt a little ripple down your spine at the words. 

“Okay. Do I need to… do anything?” You waved vaguely at yourself. You’d cleaned up, of course, since the creature so you were no longer covered in mud and sand. But you didn’t exactly have anything better to wear.

“No,” Djarin assured you. “She won’t care.” He picked up the kid and headed back upstairs.

“Do you know who his mentor is?” you asked Peli, starting to feel a little anxious.

“How would I know?” Peli grumbled. “It’s not like I can leave here.” 

“That’s not what I meant,” you said, frowning at her. “Maybe she’s been here before? Or he’s talked about her?” You paused for a moment. “Well. Maybe not the second option, actually.”

Peli spluttered a laugh, sparks flaring bright as they drifted up and away from you. “Nope. No other helmets have entered the castle. Trust me, I’d know. Bad enough dealing with one, I’d have to quit if there were two.” 

You sank back into your chair, murmuring enough encouragement to keep Peli ranting while you tuned her out. Well, you weren’t exactly surprised that Djarin’s mentor wore a helmet too, but you were surprised he was taking you to meet her. You had no idea why he would. 

But you’d already agreed to go, so there was nothing more to be done about it now. Honestly, you were curious. This was the first time the wizard was going to show you anything more of himself and where he came from. Maybe, if you were lucky, you’d even get to know him a little better. 

Maybe.

True to his word, Djarin woke you early the next morning, and made tea while you hobbled about getting ready to go. The child was still half-asleep, cuddled into Djarin’s shoulder watching the two of you with sleepy eyes. You had to grin at the sight. Djarin was an excellent father figure, clearly. 

The two of you left, emerging onto the streets of Mandalore. It was early enough still that there wasn’t much foot traffic around the two of you. A few people here and there, really, but no more than that. You struggled a little to keep up with Djarin’s longer strides, and were quickly completely turned around in the city.

“Almost there,” Djarin told you after several minutes of walking. The kid peered over Djarin’s shoulder at you and cooed. You pretended it was encouragement, and not outright amusement.

“Wizard,” you huffed. You’d remembered to bring your walking stick along this time, and it thumped gently on the cobblestones as you walked. “I could clobber him,” you muttered to the stick. “If he’d slow down a little.” 

Djarin finally stopped in an alleyway, turning to look at you. You puffed up next to him, leaning a little more heavily on your walking stick. “This way,” he said, waving two fingers at the end of the alley. The brick shimmered and vanished, leaving an opening. Your jaw dropped. Djarin might possibly have chuckled before he stepped into the opening, heading down the narrow staircase revealed there. You followed him a little more slowly, your eyes taking time to adjust. 

You heard her before you saw her. The rhythmic clang of metal on metal echoed down the flat corridor you emerged onto, and Djarin pulled you up level with him as he walked down the corridor. You had no idea how far underground you were, but it was chilly. At least, it started out chilly. The temperature slowly rose as you approached a doorway. Djarin stepped through first, holding the curtain for you to enter after him.

The room was circular and mostly open, but largely dominated by a forge in the center. Tending the forge was a woman with a golden-bronze helmet, her back to the two of you. You sat where Djarin ushered you, and he sat next to you to wait, the child now perched in his lap, bright eyes surveying everything. 

“You brought them?” the woman asked. She set down the hammer and plunged the piece of metal she’d been working on into a bucket of water, which hissed and steamed. 

“Yes.” Djarin didn’t say anything else or move. 

The woman set the piece of metal aside and finally turned, looking at your little group. Her helmet was different from Djarin’s, and not just in color. The visor was different. And there were little… horns? Maybe? On her helmet. She took a couple steps closer to Djarin, looking at him. Or possibly the child. It was a little difficult to tell through the helmet.

Then the helmet turned to you and you froze, feeling abruptly like prey. You went very still, hardly breathing, eyes wide as you stared into the visor. This lasted for long enough that your heart started to pound against your ribs.

And then whatever it was passed, and the helmet turned back to Djarin. You swallowed hard, hiding your shaking hands against your legs. 

“You were correct,” the woman told him simply. “You were wise to bring them here.” 

Them? Wait, what? You had a feeling you were missing something.

“I brought the rest, as well.” Djarin nudged a bag you’d failed to notice earlier, and the bag clinked when the woman picked it up, looking through it. She pulled out a reddish crystal, holding it to the light and examining it for several moments. The child cooed, and for a moment you could have sworn the crystal started to glow. Then the woman put it back in the bag. 

“Well done,” she said. “These will be greatly beneficial.” She set the bag down by the back of the room before turning to look at the three of you again. “You know the king has been asking after you.”

“I know.” Djarin sounded like he was grimacing, voice a little tighter than normal. 

“Nothing from Viszla?”

“No.”

The woman nodded slowly, seeming to consider something. Her helmet tipped towards you again, and you swiftly looked away. Just in case. You weren’t keen on feeling that again. She was silent for several long moments before she nodded, seemingly to herself. “You are to find Viszla.” 

“And the king?” Djarin rasped.

“You will have some time before he becomes a problem.” 

Djarin nodded. “Anything else?” 

“You are lacking your heart, not your brain.” The woman stepped over and rapped her knuckles on Djarin’s breastplate. Djarin flinched but made no retort. “You have everything you need, Djarin.” She stepped away again, over to the forge, and started working. 

Apparently that was all the signal that Djarin needed, because he stood, still holding the kid, and assisted you to your feet as well. He stayed quiet as he led the way back out of the room, down the corridor, up the stairs, and back into the alleyway.

Enough time had passed that you could hear the markets opening, the calls of the vendors and the tapping of shoes on the stones. It was odd to think - you were in Mandalore, near one of the big markets. But the entrance to the castle wasn’t far, and back in the castle you would be roaming the area around Kalevala. And if you really wanted to, you could pop out to Kamino for an afternoon stroll. 

You tried to stifle your laughter. You really did. But a squeak escaped you. 

“What?” Djarin turned to look at you, giving you an obvious look over.

“Nothing, nothing,” you tried to tell him, waving him off and biting your lower lip.

“Tell me.” He wasn’t afraid of using his height to his advantage, looming over you. But far from feeling intimidated, you felt protected. 

“I just… never thought this would be my life.” You shook your head, incredulous. “A greater adventure than I could have dreamed, and all I had to do--” The words caught in your throat. Right. You weren’t allowed to talk about the curse. You shook your head again, this time to dislodge the magical blockage. “Well, all I had to do was get old, I suppose.” 

“Hm.” Djarin looked at you before he huffed a laugh of his own and shook his head. “We’re making a detour on the way back.”

“We are?” You scrambled to keep up with him, thumping your walking stick along. 

“Only a brief one.” Djarin didn’t turn to look at you again, instead leading the way straight into the market.

The market was incredible, unlike anything you’d seen in Kalevala. The vendors were varied, clearly from all over. There were vibrant colors everywhere, from clothing to awnings to fruits to spices. The whole place was a mess of scents that you tried to decipher - spices here, fish there, fresh bread off that direction. It was very nearly sensory overload, and there weren’t even that many people about yet. 

The only reason you didn’t get overwhelmed and stop at every other stall to try something was Djarin. He carved a determined path through the market, simply trusting you to keep up with him. And you did, although it pained you to go past a few of the stalls without even a look. There was one that you very nearly abandoned him for, full to the brim with colorful cloth and trims, ready to be shaped and created into something wonderful. 

Finally, Djarin stopped at a fruit vendor on what had to be the far end of the market. He passed over a few coins, and took a bag in return. With a nod to the vendor, he turned to you and held out the bag.

“Try one,” he offered, shaking the bag a little to help entice you.

You peered inside. The fruits were unlike anything you’d seen before - small and red and plump. You picked one carefully, examining it.

Djarin huffed at you again. “There’s a pit in the middle,” he told you. “Careful of that.” 

“Thank you.” You bit into it cautiously, and your eyes went wide at the flavor. Sweet and a little tart, juicy, delicious. You very nearly made an indecent sound, covering your mouth with your free hand as you chewed on your unexpected treat. 

“Come on,” Djarin told you again, ushering you along with him. This time, he stuck next to you, keeping close even as the market got busier and busier. “I have an idea where to look for Viszla.”

“That’s good,” you said, smiling. “I’m sure that will be helpful. Where are you going to start?”

Djarin was quiet for a moment, leading you now through side streets and back towards the entrance to the moving castle. “Kalevala.”

--

Taglist:  @tibbietibbs @zinzinina @fandom-blackhole @pedrocentric @shoopidly @beskarprincessjenny @sarahjkl82-blog @cannedsoupsucks @liviiii98 @adriiibell @seasonschange-butpeopledont @princessxkenobi @thirddeadlysin @pbeatriz @oonajaeadira @kiizhikehn-cedar @withakindheartx​ @linkpk88 @pedro4ever @evyiione @janebby @anditsmywholeheart @ohheyitsokay​ @miraclesabound​​ @amneris21​ @recklessworry​ @the-feckless-wonder​ @kotemorons​ @anaaaispunk​ 

[hawksky]

You wake up on your ex's fire escape; wc 2.5k

A/N: I don't really know how to categorize this ? starts as funny, gets into angst with a happy/hopeful ending. I might write this again for another character and make it 0 angst but using Megumi just let this get away from me. Thank you @sixeyesgojo for reading through my first draft, it helped me edit a lot since 😘. Although I have not looked over the ending since I wrote it, I'm done working on this fic so sorry if it falls flat.

CW: Mentions of excessive alcohol consumption.

Suggested listening: song 1 and song 2 you can pick just one to cater your experience (they are VERY different vibes) or switch over around the shampoo situation.

Objectively, there were good ways to wake up. In the arms of a beautiful person, with cold sheets and a warm body, or with the scent of your favourite breakfast wafting through the air. No disrespect to mornings at all, there were good ways to wake up, you were mature enough to recognize this.

A perplexingly rough, wet, and warm sensation gliding across your cheek, while last night’s jeans dug into your waist, and there was a pounding in your head? It was fairly safe to say this was not a good way to wake up.

It spoke volumes for how out of it you were that it was only just beginning to register in your brain that you weren’t at home, you were not even on a bed, and that the continued licks across your face were the work of animal far too large to be one of your friends cats.

“Fucking hell you’re supposed to be intimidating” you hear a voice grumble without much heat behind it.

As you forced your eyes open you are met with an excited dog tapping its paws in excitement of your presence, and the man behind the half hearted grumble. His gaze was unmistakably familiar, but his expression could not be more foreign to you.

“uhm, Hi” you croaked out while plastering a wide grin in hopes he wouldn’t murder you.

His eyebrow raised on instinct in response. You knew he was waiting for you to explain what you were doing, but the reality was you didn’t have an answer.

“I wish I could explain, but honestly I’m not sure what happened – last thing I remember was being bought another shot… Wait, where am I exactly?” You were desperately hoping you came off as charming instead of pathetic given the circumstances.

“How out of it are you?” he scrunched his face in confusion as he muttered to himself. “You’re on my fire escape, it’s in Ikebukuro? Tokyo… Japan, in case you needed the reminder”

It felt infantilizing to have him scold you like this, which only made this next part all the more difficult. You were not supposed to be Ikebukuro. You were not supposed to be in Tokyo. You were supposed to be in Yokohama. What was even more concerning is that you were definitely not supposed to be on your old fire escape, the one connected to the apartment your ex still lived in.

As you painstakingly pushed yourself upright, a warm weight laid on your upper thigh, a furry face nuzzling into your stomach – you wondered if she was aware of tension between you and her owner. You scratched behind her ears, letting Jade know she was in fact a good girl despite the earlier reprimand from her owner.

As much as you’d love to spend the day sitting on a fire escape petting your ex’s dog, you had to go home, you just need to call –

Your phone. Where was your phone? You felt around frantically for your phone, only to come up with nothing. A light sense of panic bubbles in the pit of your stomach, only to be swiftly interrupted.

“it’s already charging, I plugged it in last night, you dropped in inches away from falling down”

So, he was still watching you despite having returned inside long ago. It was difficult for you to parse this sort of gesture, how caring could it be to plug someone’s phone in when you still left them to sleep outside? Maybe he was just doing everything he could to get rid of you. It was too much to try and analyze for someone who blacked out and woke up in a different city.

“Why did you come here?” you hear him bite out from inside. It sounds harsh, but it feels like his stange way of inviting you inside.

“I don’t know what you’ve picked up from these circumstances, but not knowing is kind of a part of the problem. Believe me, there’s no amount of conscious desperation that would leaf me to sleeping on a fire escape, even yours”

You glanced around the apartment to avoid his void expression; it was spotless. But it was even harder noticing, the turned over picture frames, your favourite quilt still on the back of the couch – remnants of the past living in the present.

This tension only increased as a mug of freshly brewed green tea was placed in front of you. How thoughtful to remember you hated coffee, to realize your throat was probably killing you – you would have tasted a creeping bitterness from all these emotions, if it wasn’t overpowered by what was the distinct taste of your favourite brand that had to be special ordered.

He had always complained, there were plenty of good options for tea at the grocery store, why wasn’t that enough for you? It was so much extra effort to special order from a tea shop across town, the only place that you were able to charm the owner into ordering for you.

“How are you still so fucking awful at taking care of yourself?” he spat the words out like an insult, it was jarring honestly. Despite the time away from each other, it was no less strange to feel his detachment.

He moved towards the door beckoning Jade to follow. “There’s a towel and change of clothes in the bathroom, you should probably take a shower. If I’m not back by the time you leave, just lock up before you go, I haven’t moved the spare key.” Without looking back or waiting for a response he left.

You were starting to recognize your growing frustration – you had known him how long? Dated and lived together for a not-insignificant amount of time? Yet here you were, no idea how to interpret this strange morning, much less his last comment. Did he want you to be here when he returned? Were you supposed to leave and act like you had never been there? Could he genuinely be as indifferent as he wanted you to believe? It pissed you that your feelings were probably plain on your face.

You searched for your phone, finding it on what used to be your side of the couch. It felt ridiculous to think you ever had a side of the couch, but you were both creatures of habit and slowly without even thinking you both made your own little sanctuary mere metres away from each other.

You awoke your phone, expecting a flood of texts and phone calls from your friends, only to find nothing. Not a single check in from anyone. You open the group chat and furiously tap out a message.

<Hey assholes who let me go home on my own last night? Anyways good job I blacked out and I’m on Fushiguro’s fire escape! You are all absolutely useless to me I swear to god.>

Your phone vibrates rapidly as you place it down but you’re not in the mood to field their questions.

You’re tempted to leave now, just to get it over with, go home and crawl into bed and forget any of this ever happened. But, you felt gross, it was late enough in the morning that you could run into someone you knew, and you missed the water pressure here.

As you got ready for your shower you surveyed your options. You refused to smell like him, but the only other bottle in the shower was doggy shampoo. Surely dog’s fur and human hair weren’t so different right? Jade did have a beautiful coat, very soft and shiny… You reprimanded yourself for the ridiculous idea, but the point remained, there had to be something else for you to use.

Your brain, far more alert than it was 30 minutes ago, thought of all the things he hadn’t changed, all the fixtures still in place. You had always kept an extra set of all your supplies under the sink. By the grace of all that is good on this cruel cruel earth, they were there, in all their dusty glory, your prized hygiene products sat unmoved under the sink. It would have been sick and twisted to have to leave your ex-boyfriend’s apartment smelling exactly like him, left to spend the rest of the day agonizing over whether you should take another shower.

As you entered the shower you wondered more. He had to have noticed the softness in your eyes, the faint smile you wore just having an ounce of his attention again, the way ti widened at every caring gesture, and falling with every biting remark.

Yes, it hurt every day missing him. Yes, it would hurt if he hated you. But none of that compared to the feeling of not knowing. What were you supposed to do with all these residual feelings that have yet to go away? Were they worth the suffocation or should you strip them away?

You were proud of yourself, all these reminders of what you once had, in a place you once loved, and you had yet to break down, not even shedding a tear. If you weren’t wrapping yourself in a towel, you would’ve given yourself a pat on the back. This victory was short lived, everyone’s strength has its limits and you had taken yours too far past it already. But then you saw it, something you were completely unprepared for.

Laid neatly on top the closed laundry basket was THE outfit. It was nothing special to anyone else, just a grey sweater and loose joggers, but how many days had you spent alone breathing in his scent for comfort while he was gone? How many hard days at work had you reaching for these exact pieces as if they were the cure to all your problems?

Unable to support your own weight anymore, you fell to the tiled floor, tears spilling out, as your already sore throat grew even more hoarse – you felt like everything was collapsing around you. You weren’t expecting to see him, and you certainly weren’t expecting to need him in so many little ways. It was easy to forget how easily he weaves himself into your life, encroaching on everything you do.

The world disappeared behind each shallow breath, and an endless stream of tears you couldn’t control. Your fingers scratch against your forearms repeatedly, trying to ground yourself in some reality you could no longer grasp. It is so exhausting trying to be over him, going through these cycles of strong emotions, over and over and over again.

Suddenly, for the second time in as few hours, you felt an overwhelming weight encompass your body.

Of course, his stupid fucking perfect dog would still know how to bring you out of a panic attack like he had spent so much time training when you started dating. You clutched to Jade as your breathing slowed, but it did nothing to stop your sobs, if anything it was just another painful reminder of everything you let go.

“Uhhh….” Megumi was frozen at the door, for the first time today he didn’t know what to do. His indifferent façade dropped as he observed the scene on his bathroom floor.

There’s nothing left to lose, not for a moment that he has seen this morning have you possessed more than an ounce of dignity, “So that’s it? You don’t know what to do either? You know it’s been a whole fucking year and I still haven’t figured out how to live without you. A whole year and I’m still a mess. I can’t survive being reminded of us, look at me. And yet every attempt to get over you was a knife twisting because they’ll never be you. Now I’m here and I get to witness the wonderful Megumi Fushiguro, unaffected, and you… you have it all together.” You trail off, giving to him everything left in you.

You weren’t expecting the confused and indignant expression on his face, “You think this is having it together?” His voice lightly raising with each word “This place might as well be a sealed shrine to you and our relationship. I haven’t thrown a single thing out, moved any furniture, bought anything new – the only thing that’s ‘new’ is your stupid tea I keep buying even though I hate it, and for fucks sake y/n I should’ve moved out. Every part of me that looks like I have it together is just my version of a mess.” He brushes a stray strand out of your face, his own face moving far too close for this to be purely platonic anymore “y/n I’m no better off than you are, I’ve just kept everyone from looking”.

“So what are we supposed to do with all this?” Your eyes shining, naïve hope seeping through your defenses at the confirmation that he couldn’t live without you either.

“We could try again” Somehow, it wasn’t quite what you needed to hear. “I, am going to get dressed, and then we’ll talk, I’ll meet you in the kitchen.” He nodded lightly, pulling himself up and exiting with Jade on his heels.

Dressed in the clothes you thought would burn your skin to even touch let alone wear, you let out a long sigh as you sit on at the breakfast nook. “Look, Megumi, I need to know if you’ve worked through it, any of it? I can’t, I can’t wait another three years for you to tell me you can’t say the words I love you, that you can’t commit to more than a yearly rental, I can’t just have you here I need more security than that”

He pursed his lips, unsure of what he could say to that, how he could make sure you didn’t leave again.

“Megumi, I don’t need you to say it to me today, I don’t need you to commit to anything today, but I have to know you’ve tried that I can’t keep waiting for you”

“I… Just give me a minute, please” his voice weak pleading with you. You waited, knowing better than to rush him, laying a hand on top of his assuring him you weren’t going to run out the door.

“y/n, I’m supposed to be honest and vulnerable, I’m supposed to tell myself that people won’t abandon me just because I give them access to who I really am. I want to tell you I love you, because there’s no other explanation for feeling this way. For feeling like your eyes outshine the stars, that your mind is more brilliant than the sun. I’ve tortured myself for a year with the idea of you meeting someone who could give you everything I couldn’t, and selfishly I prayed they were awful, I wished you were miserable so I pretend the truth wasn’t real that I was not enough for you, that I couldn’t give you what you needed. I’ve never seen a loving relationship, certainly not for long enough to form memories, but I look at you and I can’t imagine anything else”

Your thumb reaches to brush away the stray tear sliding down his face as he spoke to you. Manoeuvring yourself around to be on the same side of the nook as him, you pull him into you, letting him bury his head into the crook of your neck. You placed a gentle kiss into his hair before whispered into his ear “You were always enough, I just needed you to know it too.”

not not a tag list: @satosuguslut @sandyscastle

[innuendostudios]

Thoughts on: Criterion's Neo-Noir Collection

I have written up all 26 films* in the Criterion Channel's Neo-Noir Collection.

Legend: rw - rewatch; a movie I had seen before going through the collection dnrw - did not rewatch; if a movie met two criteria (a. I had seen it within the last 18 months, b. I actively dislike it) I wrote it up from memory.

* in September, Brick leaves the Criterion Channel and is replaced in the collection with Michael Mann's Thief. May add it to the list when that happens.

Note: These are very "what was on my mind after watching." No effort has been made to avoid spoilers, nor to make the plot clear for anyone who hasn't seen the movies in question. Decide for yourself if that's interesting to you.

Cotton Comes to Harlem I feel utterly unequipped to asses this movie. This and Sweet Sweetback's Baadasssss Song the following year are regularly cited as the progenitors of the blaxploitation genre. (This is arguably unfair, since both were made by Black men and dealt much more substantively with race than the white-directed films that followed them.) Its heroes are a couple of Black cops who are treated with suspicion both by their white colleagues and by the Black community they're meant to police. I'm not 100% clear on whether they're the good guys? I mean, I think they are. But the community's suspicion of them seems, I dunno... well-founded? They are working for The Man. And there's interesting discussion to the had there - is the the problem that the law is carried out by racists, or is the law itself racist? Can Black cops make anything better? But it feels like the film stacks the deck in Gravedigger and Coffin Ed's favor; the local Black church is run by a conman, the Back-to-Africa movement is, itself, a con, and the local Black Power movement is treated as an obstacle. Black cops really are the only force for justice here. Movie portrays Harlem itself as a warm, thriving, cultured community, but the people that make up that community are disloyal and easily fooled. Felt, to me, like the message was "just because they're cops doesn't mean they don't have Black soul," which, nowadays, we would call copaganda. But, then, do I know what I'm talking about? Do I know how much this played into or off of or against stereotypes from 1970? Was this a radical departure I don't have the context to appreciate? Is there substance I'm too white and too many decades removed to pick up on? Am I wildly overthinking this? I dunno. Seems like everyone involved was having a lot of fun, at least. That bit is contagious.

Across 110th Street And here's the other side of the "race film" equation. Another movie set in Harlem with a Black cop pulled between the police, the criminals, and the public, but this time the film is made by white people. I like it both more and less. Pro: this time the difficult position of Black cop who's treated with suspicion by both white cops and Black Harlemites is interrogated. Con: the Black cop has basically no personality other than "honest cop." Pro: the racism of the police force is explicit and systemic, as opposed to comically ineffectual. Con: the movie is shaped around a racist white cop who beats the shit out of Black people but slowly forms a bond with his Black partner. Pro: the Black criminal at the heart of the movie talks openly about how the white world has stacked the deck against him, and he's soulful and relateable. Con: so of course he dies in the end, because the only way privileged people know to sympathetize with minorities is to make them tragic (see also: The Boys in the Band, Philadelphia, and Brokeback Mountain for gay men). Additional con: this time Harlem is portrayed as a hellhole. Barely any of the community is even seen. At least the shot at the end, where the criminal realizes he's going to die and throws the bag of money off a roof and into a playground so the Black kids can pick it up before the cops reclaim it was powerful. But overall... yech. Cotton Comes to Harlem felt like it wasn't for me; this feels like it was 100% for me and I respect it less for that.

The Long Goodbye (rw) The shaggiest dog. Like much Altman, more compelling than good, but very compelling. Raymond Chandler's story is now set in the 1970's, but Philip Marlowe is the same Philip Marlowe of the 1930's. I get the sense there was always something inherently sad about Marlowe. Classic noir always portrayed its detectives as strong-willed men living on the border between the straightlaced world and its seedy underbelly, crossing back and forth freely but belonging to neither. But Chandler stresses the loneliness of it - or, at least, the people who've adapted Chandler do. Marlowe is a decent man in an indecent world, sorting things out, refusing to profit from misery, but unable to set anything truly right. Being a man out of step is here literalized by putting him forty years from the era where he belongs. His hardboiled internal monologue is now the incessant mutterings of the weird guy across the street who never stops smoking. Like I said: compelling! Kael's observation was spot on: everyone in the movie knows more about the mystery than he does, but he's the only one who cares. The mystery is pretty threadbare - Marlowe doesn't detect so much as end up in places and have people explain things to him. But I've seen it two or three times now, and it does linger.

Chinatown (rw) I confess I've always been impressed by Chinatown more than I've liked it. Its story structure is impeccable, its atmosphere is gorgeous, its noirish fatalism is raw and real, its deconstruction of the noir hero is well-observed, and it's full of clever detective tricks (the pocket watches, the tail light, the ruler). I've just never connected with it. Maybe it's a little too perfectly crafted. (I feel similar about Miller's Crossing.) And I've always been ambivalent about the ending. In Towne's original ending, Evelyn shoots Noah Cross dead and get arrested, and neither she nor Jake can tell the truth of why she did it, so she goes to jail for murder and her daughter is in the wind. Polansky proposed the ending that exists now, where Evelyn just dies, Cross wins, and Jake walks away devastated. It communicates the same thing: Jake's attempt to get smart and play all the sides off each other instead of just helping Evelyn escape blows up in his face at the expense of the woman he cares about and any sense of real justice. And it does this more dramatically and efficiently than Towne's original ending. But it also treats Evelyn as narratively disposable, and hands the daughter over to the man who raped Evelyn and murdered her husband. It makes the women suffer more to punch up the ending. But can I honestly say that Towne's ending is the better one? It is thematically equal, dramatically inferior, but would distract me less. Not sure what the calculus comes out to there. Maybe there should be a third option. Anyway! A perfect little contraption. Belongs under a glass dome.

Night Moves (rw) Ah yeah, the good shit. This is my quintessential 70's noir. This is three movies in a row about detectives. Thing is, the classic era wasn't as chockablock with hardboiled detectives as we think; most of those movies starred criminals, cops, and boring dudes seduced to the darkness by a pair of legs. Gumshoes just left the strongest impressions. (The genre is said to begin with Maltese Falcon and end with Touch of Evil, after all.) So when the post-Code 70's decided to pick the genre back up while picking it apart, it makes sense that they went for the 'tecs first. The Long Goodbye dragged the 30's detective into the 70's, and Chinatown went back to the 30's with a 70's sensibility. But Night Moves was about detecting in the Watergate era, and how that changed the archetype. Harry Moseby is the detective so obsessed with finding the truth that he might just ruin his life looking for it, like the straight story will somehow fix everything that's broken, like it'll bring back a murdered teenager and repair his marriage and give him a reason to forgive the woman who fucked him just to distract him from some smuggling. When he's got time to kill, he takes out a little, magnetic chess set and recreates a famous old game, where three knight moves (get it?) would have led to a beautiful checkmate had the player just seen it. He keeps going, self-destructing, because he can't stand the idea that the perfect move is there if he can just find it. And, no matter how much we see it destroy him, we, the audience, want him to keep going; we expect a satisfying resolution to the mystery. That's what we need from a detective picture; one character flat-out compares Harry to Sam Spade. But what if the truth is just... Watergate? Just some prick ruining things for selfish reasons? Nothing grand, nothing satisfying. Nothing could be more noir, or more neo-, than that.

Farewell, My Lovely Sometimes the only thing that makes a noir neo- is that it's in color and all the blood, tits, and racism from the books they're based on get put back in. This second stab at Chandler is competant but not much more than that. Mitchum works as Philip Marlowe, but Chandler's dialogue feels off here, like lines that worked on the page don't work aloud, even though they did when Bogie said them. I'll chalk it up to workmanlike but uninspired direction. (Dang this looks bland so soon after Chinatown.) Moose Malloy is a great character, and perfectly cast. (Wasn't sure at first, but it's true.) Some other interesting cats show up and vanish - the tough brothel madam based on Brenda Allen comes to mind, though she's treated with oddly more disdain than most of the other hoods and is dispatched quicker. In general, the more overt racism and misogyny doesn't seem to do anything except make the movie "edgier" than earlier attempts at the same material, and it reads kinda try-hard. But it mostly holds together. *shrug*

The Killing of a Chinese Bookie (dnrw) Didn't care for this at all. Can't tell if the script was treated as a jumping-off point or if the dialogue is 100% improvised, but it just drags on forever and is never that interesting. Keeps treating us to scenes from the strip club like they're the opera scenes in Amadeus, and, whatever, I don't expect burlesque to be Mozart, but Cosmo keeps saying they're an artful, classy joint, and I keep waiting for the show to be more than cheap, lazy camp. How do you make gratuitious nudity boring? Mind you, none of this is bad as a rule - I love digressions and can enjoy good sleaze, and it's clear the filmmakers care about what they're making. They just did not sell it in a way I wanted to buy. Can't remember what edit I watched; I hope it was the 135 minute one, because I cannot imagine there being a longer edit out there.

The American Friend (dnrw) It's weird that this is Patricia Highsmith, right? That Dennis Hopper is playing Tom Ripley? In a cowboy hat? I gather that Minghella's version wasn't true to the source, but I do love that movie, and this is a long, long way from that. This Mr. Ripley isn't even particularly talented! Anyway, this has one really great sequence, where a regular guy has been coerced by crooks into murdering someone on a train platform, and, when the moment comes to shoot, he doesn't. And what follows is a prolonged sequence of an amateur trying to surreptitiously tail a guy across a train station and onto another train, and all the while you're not sure... is he going to do it? is he going to chicken out? is he going to do it so badly he gets caught? It's hard not to put yourself in the protagonist's shoes, wondering how you would handle the situation, whether you could do it, whether you could act on impulse before your conscience could catch up with you. It drags on a long while and this time it's a good thing. Didn't much like the rest of the movie, it's shapeless and often kind of corny, and the central plot hook is contrived. (It's also very weird that this is the only Wim Wenders I've seen.) But, hey, I got one excellent sequence, not gonna complain.

The Big Sleep Unlike the 1946 film, I can follow the plot of this Big Sleep. But, also unlike the 1946 version, this one isn't any damn fun. Mitchum is back as Marlowe (this is three Marlowes in five years, btw), and this time it's set in the 70's and in England, for some reason. I don't find this offensive, but neither do I see what it accomplishes? Most of the cast is still American. (Hi Jimmy!) Still holds together, but even less well than Farewell, My Lovely. But I do find it interesting that the neo-noir era keeps returning to Chandler while it's pretty much left Hammet behind (inasmuch as someone whose genes are spread wide through the whole genre can be left behind). Spade and the Continental Op, straightshooting tough guys who come out on top in the end, seem antiquated in the (post-)modern era. But Marlowe's goodness being out of sync with the world around him only seems more poignant the further you take him from his own time. Nowadays you can really only do Hammett as pastiche, but I sense that you could still play Chandler straight.

Eyes of Laura Mars The most De Palma movie I've seen not made by De Palma, complete with POV shots, paranormal hoodoo, and fixation with sex, death, and whether images of such are art or exploitation (or both). Laura Mars takes photographs of naked women in violent tableux, and has gotten quite famous doing so, but is it damaging to women? The movie has more than a superficial engagement with this topic, but only slightly more than superficial. Kept imagining a movie that is about 30% less serial killer story and 30% more art conversations. (But, then, I have an art degree and have never murdered anyone, so.) Like, museums are full of Biblical paintings full of nude women and slaughter, sometimes both at once, and they're called masterpieces. Most all of them were painted by men on commission from other men. Now Laura Mars makes similar images in modern trappings, and has models made of flesh and blood rather than paint, and it's scandalous? Why is it only controversial once women are getting paid for it? On the other hand, is this just the master's tools? Is she subverting or challenging the male gaze, or just profiting off of it? Or is a woman profiting off of it, itself, a subversion? Is it subversive enough to account for how it commodifies female bodies? These questions are pretty clearly relevant to the movie itself, and the movies in general, especially after the fall of the Hays Code when people were really unrestrained with the blood and boobies. And, heck, the lead is played by the star of Bonnie and Clyde! All this is to say: I wish the movie were as interested in these questions as I am. What's there is a mildly diverting B-picture. There's one great bit where Laura's seeing through the killer's eyes (that's the hook, she gets visions from the murderer's POV; no, this is never explained) and he's RIGHT BEHIND HER, so there's a chase where she charges across an empty room only able to see her own fleeing self from ten feet behind. That was pretty great! And her first kiss with the detective (because you could see a mile away that the detective and the woman he's supposed to protect are gonna fall in love) is immediately followed by the two freaking out about how nonsensical it is for them to fall in love with each other, because she's literally mourning multiple deaths and he's being wildly unprofessional, and then they go back to making out. That bit was great, too. The rest... enh.

The Onion Field What starts off as a seemingly not-that-noirish cops-vs-crooks procedural turns into an agonizingly protracted look at the legal system, with the ultimate argument that the very idea of the law ever resulting in justice is a lie. Hoo! I have to say, I'm impressed. There's a scene where a lawyer - whom I'm not sure is even named, he's like the seventh of thirteen we've met - literally quits the law over how long this court case about two guys shooting a cop has taken. He says the cop who was murdered has been forgotten, his partner has never gotten to move on because the case has lasted eight years, nothing has been accomplished, and they should let the two criminals walk and jail all the judges and lawyers instead. It's awesome! The script is loaded with digressions and unnecessary details, just the way I like it. Can't say I'm impressed with the execution. Nothing is wrong, exactly, but the performances all seem a tad melodramatic or a tad uninspired. Camerawork is, again, purely functional. It's no masterpiece. But that second half worked for me. (And it's Ted Danson's first movie! He did great.)

Body Heat (rw) Let's say up front that this is a handsomely-made movie. Probably the best looking thing on the list since Night Moves. Nothing I've seen better captures the swelter of an East Coast heatwave, or the lusty feeling of being too hot to bang and going at it regardless. Kathleen Turner sells the hell out of a femme fatale. There are a lot of good lines and good performances (Ted Danson is back and having the time of his life). I want to get all that out of the way, because this is a movie heavily modeled after Double Indemnity, and I wanted to discuss its merits before I get into why inviting that comparison doesn't help the movie out. In a lot of ways, it's the same rules as the Robert Mitchum Marlowe movies - do Double Indemnity but amp up the sex and violence. And, to a degree it works. (At least, the sex does, dunno that Double Indemnity was crying out for explosions.) But the plot is amped as well, and gets downright silly. Yeah, Mrs. Dietrichson seduces Walter Neff so he'll off her husband, but Neff clocks that pretty early and goes along with it anyway. Everything beyond that is two people keeping too big a secret and slowly turning on each other. But here? For the twists to work Matty has to be, from frame one, playing four-dimensional chess on the order of Senator Palpatine, and its about as plausible. (Exactly how did she know, after she rebuffed Ned, he would figure out her local bar and go looking for her at the exact hour she was there?) It's already kind of weird to be using the spider woman trope in 1981, but to make her MORE sexually conniving and mercenary than she was in the 40's is... not great. As lurid trash, it's pretty fun for a while, but some noir stuff can't just be updated, it needs to be subverted or it doesn't justify its existence.

Blow Out Brian De Palma has two categories of movie: he's got his mainstream, director-for-hire fare, where his voice is either reigned in or indulged in isolated sequences that don't always jive with the rest fo the film, and then there's his Brian De Palma movies. My mistake, it seems, is having seen several for-hires from throughout his career - The Untouchables (fine enough), Carlito's Way (ditto, but less), Mission: Impossible (enh) - but had only seen De Palma-ass movies from his late period (Femme Fatale and The Black Dahlia, both of which I think are garbage). All this to say: Blow Out was my first classic-era De Palma, and holy fucking shit dudes. This was (with caveats) my absolute and entire jam. I said I could enjoy good sleaze, and this is good friggin' sleaze. (Though far short of De Palma at his sleaziest, mercifully.) The splitscreens, the diopter shots, the canted angles, how does he make so many shlocky things work?! John Travolta's sound tech goes out to get fresh wind fx for the movie he's working on, and we get this wonderful sequence of visuals following sounds as he turns his attention and his microphone to various noises - a couple on a walk, a frog, an owl, a buzzing street lamp. Later, as he listens back to the footage, the same sequence plays again, but this time from his POV; we're seeing his memory as guided by the same sequence of sounds, now recreated with different shots, as he moves his pencil in the air mimicking the microphone. When he mixes and edits sounds, we hear the literal soundtrack of the movie we are watching get mixed and edited by the person on screen. And as he tries to unravel a murder mystery, he uses what's at hand: magnetic tape, flatbed editors, an animation camera to turn still photos from the crime scene into a film and sync it with the audio he recorded; it's forensics using only the tools of the editing room. As someone who's spent some time in college editing rooms, this is a hoot and a half. Loses a bit of steam as it goes on and the film nerd stuff gives way to a more traditional thriller, but rallies for a sound-tech-centered final setpiece, which steadily builds to such madcap heights you can feel the air thinning, before oddly cutting its own tension and then trying to build it back up again. It doesn't work as well the second time. But then, that shot right after the climax? Damn. Conflicted on how the movie treats the female lead. I get why feminist film theorists are so divided on De Palma. His stuff is full of things feminists (rightly) criticize, full of women getting naked when they're not getting stabbed, but he also clearly finds women fascinating and has them do empowered and unexpected things, and there are many feminist reads of his movies. Call it a mixed bag. But even when he's doing tropey shit, he explores the tropes in unexpected ways. Definitely the best movie so far that I hadn't already seen.

Cutter's Way (rw) Alex Cutter is pitched to us as an obnoxious-but-sympathetic son of a bitch, and, you know, two out of three ain't bad. Watched this during my 2020 neo-noir kick and considered skipping it this time because I really didn't enjoy it. Found it a little more compelling this go around, while being reminded of why my feelings were room temp before. Thematically, I'm onboard: it's about a guy, Cutter, getting it in his head that he's found a murderer and needs to bring him to justice, and his friend, Bone, who intermittently helps him because he feels bad that Cutter lost his arm, leg, and eye in Nam and he also feels guilty for being in love with Cutter's wife. The question of whether the guy they're trying to bring down actually did it is intentionally undefined, and arguably unimportant; they've got personal reasons to see this through. Postmodern and noirish, fixated with the inability to ever fully know the truth of anything, but starring people so broken by society that they're desperate for certainty. (Pretty obvious parallels to Vietnam.) Cutter's a drunk and kind of an asshole, but understandably so. Bone's shiftlessness is the other response to a lack of meaning in the world, to the point where making a decision, any decision, feels like character growth, even if it's maybe killing a guy whose guilt is entirely theoretical. So, yeah, I'm down with all of this! A- in outline form. It's just that Cutter is so uninterestingly unpleasant and no one else on screen is compelling enough to make up for it. His drunken windups are tedious and his sanctimonious speeches about what the war was like are, well, true and accurate but also obviously manipulative. It's two hours with two miserable people, and I think Cutter's constant chatter is supposed to be the comic relief but it's a little too accurate to drunken rambling, which isn't funny if you're not also drunk. He's just tedious, irritating, and periodically racist. Pass.

Blood Simple (rw) I'm pretty cool on the Coens - there are things I've liked, even loved, in every Coen film I've seen, but I always come away dissatisfied. For a while, I kept going to their movies because I was sure eventually I'd love one without qualification. No Country for Old Men came close, the first two acts being master classes in sustained tension. But then the third act is all about denying closure: the protagonist is murdered offscreen, the villain's motives are never explained, and it ends with an existentialist speech about the unfathomable cruelty of the world. And it just doesn't land for me. The archness of the Coen's dialogue, the fussiness of their set design, the kinda-intimate, kinda-awkward, kinda-funny closeness of the camera's singles, it cannot sell me on a devastating meditation about meaninglessness. It's only ever sold me on the Coens' own cleverness. And that archness, that distancing, has typified every one of their movies I've come close to loving. Which is a long-ass preamble to saying, holy heck, I was not prepared for their very first movie to be the one I'd been looking for! I watched it last year and it remains true on rewatch: Blood Simple works like gangbusters. It's kind of Double Indemnity (again) but played as a comedy of errors, minus the comedy: two people romantically involved feeling their trust unravel after a murder. And I think the first thing that works for me is that utter lack of comedy. It's loaded with the Coens' trademark ironies - mostly dramatic in this case - but it's all played straight. Unlike the usual lead/femme fatale relationship, where distrust brews as the movie goes on, the audience knows the two main characters can trust each other. There are no secret duplicitous motives waiting to be revealed. The audience also know why they don't trust each other. (And it's all communicated wordlessly, btw: a character enters a scene and we know, based on the information that character has, how it looks to them and what suspicions it would arouse, even as we know the truth of it). The second thing that works is, weirdly, that the characters aren't very interesting?! Ray and Abby have almost no characterization. Outside of a general likability, they are blank slates. This is a weakness in most films, but, given the agonizingly long, wordless sequences where they dispose of bodies or hide from gunfire, you're left thinking not "what will Ray/Abby do in this scenario," because Ray and Abby are relatively elemental and undefined, but "what would I do in this scenario?" Which creates an exquisite tension but also, weirdly, creates more empathy than I feel for the Coens' usual cast of personalities. It's supposed to work the other way around! Truly enjoyable throughout but absolutely wonderful in the suspenseful-as-hell climax. Good shit right here.

Body Double The thing about erotic thrillers is everything that matters is in the name. Is it thrilling? Is it erotic? Good; all else is secondary. De Palma set out to make the most lurid, voyeuristic, horny, violent, shocking, steamy movie he could come up with, and its success was not strictly dependent on the lead's acting ability or the verisimilitude of the plot. But what are we, the modern audience, to make of it once 37 years have passed and, by today's standards, the eroticism is quite tame and the twists are no longer shocking? Then we're left with a nonsensical riff on Vertigo, a specularization of women that is very hard to justify, and lead actor made of pulped wood. De Palma's obsessions don't cohere into anything more this time; the bits stolen from Hitchcock aren't repurposed to new ends, it really is just Hitch with more tits and less brains. (I mean, I still haven't seen Vertigo, but I feel 100% confident in that statement.) The diopter shots and rear-projections this time look cheap (literally so, apparently; this had 1/3 the budget of Blow Out). There are some mildly interesting setpieces, but nothing compared to Travolta's auditory reconstructions or car chase where he tries to tail a subway train from street level even if it means driving through a frickin parade like an inverted French Connection, goddamn Blow Out was a good movie! Anyway. Melanie Griffith seems to be having fun, at least. I guess I had a little as well, but it was, at best, diverting, and a real letdown.

The Hit Surprised by how much I enjoyed this one. Terrance Stamp flips on the mob and spends ten years living a life of ease in Spain, waiting for the day they find and kill him. Movie kicks off when they do find him, and what follows is a ramshackle road movie as John Hurt and a young Tim Roth attempt to drive him to Paris so they can shoot him in front of his old boss. Stamp is magnetic. He's spent a decade reading philosophy and seems utterly prepared for death, so he spends the trip humming, philosophizing, and being friendly with his captors when he's not winding them up. It remains unclear to the end whether the discord he sews between Roth and Hurt is part of some larger plan of escape or just for shits and giggles. There's also a decent amount of plot for a movie that's not terribly plot-driven - just about every part of the kidnapping has tiny hitches the kidnappers aren't prepared for, and each has film-long repercussions, drawing the cops closer and somehow sticking Laura del Sol in their backseat. The ongoing questions are when Stamp will die, whether del Sol will die, and whether Roth will be able to pull the trigger. In the end, it's actually a meditation on ethics and mortality, but in a quiet and often funny way. It's not going to go down as one of my new favs, but it was a nice way to spend a couple hours.

Trouble in Mind (dnrw) I fucking hated this movie. It's been many months since I watched it, do I remember what I hated most? Was it the bit where a couple of country bumpkins who've come to the city walk into a diner and Mr. Bumpkin clocks that the one Black guy in the back as obviously a criminal despite never having seen him before? Was it the part where Kris Kristofferson won't stop hounding Mrs. Bumpkin no matter how many times she demands to be left alone, and it's played as romantic because obviously he knows what she needs better than she does? Or is it the part where Mr. Bumpkin reluctantly takes a job from the Obvious Criminal (who is, in fact, a criminal, and the only named Black character in the movie if I remember correctly, draw your own conclusions) and, within a week, has become a full-blown hood, which is exemplified by a lot, like, a lot of queer-coding? The answer to all three questions is yes. It's also fucking boring. Even out-of-drag Divine's performance as the villain can't save it.

Manhunter 'sfine? I've still never seen Silence of the Lambs, nor any of the Hopkins Lecter movies, nor, indeed, any full episode of the show. So the unheimlich others get seeing Brian Cox play Hannibal didn't come into play. Cox does a good job with him, but he's barely there. Shame, cuz he's the most interesting part of the movie. Honestly, there's a lot of interesting stuff that's barely there. Will Graham being a guy who gets into the heads of serial killers is explored well enough, and Mann knows how to direct a police procedural such that it's both contemplative and propulsive. But all the other themes it points at? Will's fear that he understands murderers a little too well? Hannibal trying to nudge him towards becoming one? Whatever dance Hannibal and Tooth Fairy are doing? What Tooth Fairy's deal is, anyway? (Why does he wear fake teeth and bite things? Why is he fixated on the red dragon? Does the bit where he says "Francis is gone forever" mean he has DID?) None of it goes anywhere or amounts to anything. I mean, it's certainly more interesting with this stuff than without, but it has that feel of a book that's been pared of its interesting bits to fit the runtime (or, alternately, pulp that's been sloppily elevated). I still haven't made my mind up on Mann's cold, precise camera work, but at least it gives me something to look at. It's fine! This is fine.

Mona Lisa (rw) Gave this one another shot. Bob Hoskins is wonderful as a hood out of his depth in classy places, quick to anger but just as quick to let anger go (the opening sequence where he's screaming on his ex-wife's doorstep, hurling trash cans at her house, and one minute later thrilled to see his old car, is pretty nice). And Cathy Tyson's working girl is a subtler kind of fascinating, exuding a mixture of coldness and kindness. It's just... this is ultimately a story about how heartbreaking it is when the girl you like is gay, right? It's Weezer's Pink Triangle: The Movie. It's not homophobic, exactly - Simone isn't demonized for being a lesbian - but it's still, like, "man, this straight white guy's pain is so much more interesting than the Black queer sex worker's." And when he's yelling "you woulda done it!" at the end, I can't tell if we're supposed to agree with him. Seems pretty clear that she wouldn'ta done it, at least not without there being some reveal about her character that doesn't happen, but I don't think the ending works if we don't agree with him, so... I'm like 70% sure the movie does Simone dirty there. For the first half, their growing relationship feels genuine and natural, and, honestly, the story being about a real bond that unfortunately means different things to each party could work if it didn't end with a gun and a sock in the jaw. Shape feels jagged as well; what feels like the end of the second act or so turns out to be the climax. And some of the symbolism is... well, ok, Simone gives George money to buy more appropriate clothes for hanging out in high end hotels, and he gets a tan leather jacket and a Hawaiian shirt, and their first proper bonding moment is when she takes him out for actual clothes. For the rest of the movie he is rocking double-breasted suits (not sure I agree with the striped tie, but it was the eighties, whaddya gonna do?). Then, in the second half, she sends him off looking for her old streetwalker friend, and now he looks completely out of place in the strip clubs and bordellos. So far so good. But then they have this run-in where her old pimp pulls a knife and cuts George's arm, so, with his nice shirt torn and it not safe going home (I guess?) he starts wearing the Hawaiian shirt again. So around the time he's starting to realize he doesn't really belong in Simone's world or the lowlife world he came from anymore, he's running around with the classy double-breasted suit jacket over the garish Hawaiian shirt, and, yeah, bit on the nose guys. Anyway, it has good bits, I just feel like a movie that asks me to feel for the guy punching a gay, Black woman in the face needs to work harder to earn it. Bit of wasted talent.

The Bedroom Window Starts well. Man starts an affair with his boss' wife, their first night together she witnesses an attempted murder from his window, she worries going to the police will reveal the affair to her husband, so the man reports her testimony to the cops claiming he's the one who saw it. Young Isabelle Huppert is the perfect woman for a guy to risk his career on a crush over, and Young Steve Guttenberg is the perfect balance of affability and amorality. And it flows great - picks just the right media to res. So then he's talking to the cops, telling them what she told him, and they ask questions he forgot to ask her - was the perp's jacket a blazer or a windbreaker? - and he has to guess. Then he gets called into the police lineup, and one guy matches her description really well, but is it just because he's wearing his red hair the way she described it? He can't be sure, doesn't finger any of them. He finds out the cops were pretty certain about one of the guys, so he follows the one he thinks it was around, looking for more evidence, and another girl is attacked right outside a bar he knows the redhead was at. Now he's certain! But he shows the boss' wife the guy and she's not certain, and she reminds him they don't even know if the guy he followed is the same guy the police suspected! And as he feeds more evidence to the cops, he has to lie more, because he can't exactly say he was tailing the guy around the city. So, I'm all in now. Maybe it's because I'd so recently rewatched Night Moves and Cutter's Way, but this seems like another story about uncertainty. He's really certain about the guy because it fits narratively, and we, the audience, feel the same. But he's not actually a witness, he doesn't have actual evidence, he's fitting bits and pieces together like a conspiracy theorist. He's fixating on what he wants to be true. Sign me up! But then it turns out he's 100% correct about who the killer is but his lies are found out and now the cops think he's the killer and I realize, oh, no, this movie isn't nearly as smart as I thought it was. Egg on my face! What transpires for the remaining half of the runtime is goofy as hell, and someone with shlockier sensibilities could have made a meal of it, but Hanson, despite being a Corman protege, takes this silliness seriously in the all wrong ways. Next!

Homicide (rw? I think I saw most of this on TV one time) Homicide centers around the conflicted loyalties of a Jewish cop. It opens with the Jewish cop and his white gentile partner taking over a case with a Black perp from some Black FBI agents. The media is making a big thing about the racial implications of the mostly white cops chasing down a Black man in a Black neighborhood. And inside of 15 minutes the FBI agent is calling the lead a k*ke and the gentile cop is calling the FBI agent a f****t and there's all kinds of invective for Black people. The film is announcing its intentions out the gate: this movie is about race. But the issue here is David Mamet doesn't care about race as anything other than a dramatic device. He's the Ubisoft of filmmakers, having no coherent perspective on social issues but expecting accolades for even bringing them up. Mamet is Jewish (though lead actor Joe Mantegna definitely is not) but what is his position on the Jewish diaspora? The whole deal is Mantegna gets stuck with a petty homicide case instead of the big one they just pinched from the Feds, where a Jewish candy shop owner gets shot in what looks like a stickup. Her family tries to appeal to his Jewishness to get him to take the case seriously, and, after giving them the brush-off for a long time, finally starts following through out of guilt, finding bits and pieces of what may or may not be a conspiracy, with Zionist gun runners and underground neo-Nazis. But, again: all of these are just dramatic devices. Mantegna's Jewishness (those words will never not sound ridiculous together) has always been a liability for him as a cop (we are told, not shown), and taking the case seriously is a reclamation of identity. The Jews he finds community with sold tommyguns to revolutionaries during the founding of Israel. These Jews end up blackmailing him to get a document from the evidence room. So: what is the film's position on placing stock in one's Jewish identity? What is its position on Israel? What is its opinion on Palestine? Because all three come up! And the answer is: Mamet doesn't care. You can read it a lot of different ways. Someone with more context and more patience than me could probably deduce what the de facto message is, the way Chris Franklin deduced the de facto message of Far Cry V despite the game's efforts not to have one, but I'm not going to. Mantegna's attempt to reconnect with his Jewishness gets his partner killed, gets the guy he was supposed to bring in alive shot dead, gets him possibly permanent injuries, gets him on camera blowing up a store that's a front for white nationalists, and all for nothing because the "clues" he found (pretty much exclusively by coincidence) were unconnected nothings. The problem is either his Jewishness, or his lifelong failure to connect with his Jewishness until late in life. Mamet doesn't give a shit. (Like, Mamet canonically doesn't give a shit: he is on record saying social context is meaningless, characters only exist to serve the plot, and there are no deeper meanings in fiction.) Mamet's ping-pong dialogue is fun, as always, and there are some neat ideas and characters, but it's all in service of a big nothing that needed to be a something to work.

Swoon So much I could talk about, let's keep it to the most interesting bits. Hommes Fatales: a thing about classic noir that it was fascinated by the marginal but had to keep it in the margins. Liberated women, queer-coded killers, Black jazz players, broke thieves; they were the main event, they were what audiences wanted to see, they were what made the movies fun. But the ending always had to reassert straightlaced straight, white, middle-class male society as unshakeable. White supremacist capitalist patriarchy demanded, both ideologically and via the Hays Code, that anyone outside these norms be punished, reformed, or dead by the movie's end. The only way to make them the heroes was to play their deaths for tragedy. It is unsurprising that neo-noir would take the queer-coded villains and make them the protagonists. Implicature: This is the story of Leopold and Loeb, murderers famous for being queer, and what's interesting is how the queerness in the first half exists entirely outside of language. Like, it's kind of amazing for a movie from 1992 to be this gay - we watch Nathan and Dickie kiss, undress, masturbate, fuck; hell, they wear wedding rings when they're alone together. But it's never verbalized. Sex is referred to as "your reward" or "what you wanted" or "best time." Dickie says he's going to have "the girls over," and it turns out "the girls" are a bunch of drag queens, but this is never acknowledged. Nathan at one point lists off a bunch of famous men - Oscar Wild, E.M. Forster, Frederick the Great - but, though the commonality between them is obvious (they were all gay), it's left the the audience to recognize it. When their queerness is finally verbalized in the second half, it's first in the language of pathology - a psychiatrist describing their "perversions" and "misuse" of their "organs" before the court, which has to be cleared of women because it's so inappropriate - and then with slurs from the man who murders Dickie in jail (a murder which is written off with no investigation because the victim is a gay prisoner instead of a L&L's victim, a child of a wealthy family). I don't know if I'd have noticed this if I hadn't read Chip Delany describing his experience as a gay man in the 50's existing almost entirely outside of language, the only language at the time being that of heteronormativity. Murder as Love Story: L&L exchange sex as payment for the other commiting crimes; it's foreplay. Their statements to the police where they disagree over who's to blame is a lover's quarrel. Their sentencing is a marriage. Nathan performs his own funeral rites over Dickie's body after he dies on the operating table. They are, in their way, together til death did they part. This is the relationship they can have. That it does all this without romanticizing the murder itself or valorizing L&L as humans is frankly incredible.

Suture (rw) The pitch: at the funeral for his father, wealthy Vincent Towers meets his long lost half brother Clay Arlington. It is implied Clay is a child from out of wedlock, possibly an affair; no one knows Vincent has a half-brother but him and Clay. Vincent invites Clay out to his fancy-ass home in Arizona. Thing is, Vincent is suspected (correctly) by the police of having murdered his father, and, due to a striking family resemblence, he's brought Clay to his home to fake his own death. He finagles Clay into wearing his clothes and driving his car, and then blows the car up and flees the state, leaving the cops to think him dead. Thing is, Clay survives, but with amnesia. The doctors tell him he's Vincent, and he has no reason to disagree. Any discrepancy in the way he looks is dismissed as the result of reconstructive surgery after the explosion. So Clay Arlington resumes Vincent Towers' life, without knowing Clay Arlington even exists. The twist: Clay and Vincent are both white, but Vincent is played by Michael Harris, a white actor, and Clay is played by Dennis Haysbert, a Black actor. "Ian, if there's just the two of them, how do you know it's not Harris playing a Black character?" Glad you asked! It is most explicitly obvious during a scene where Vincent/Clay's surgeon-cum-girlfriend essentially bringing up phrenology to explain how Vincent/Clay couldn't possibly have murdered his father, describing straight hair, thin lips, and a Greco-Roman nose Haysbert very clearly doesn't have. But, let's be honest: we knew well beforehand that the rich-as-fuck asshole living in a huge, modern house and living it up in Arizona high society was white. Though Clay is, canonically, white, he lives an poor and underprivileged life common to Black men in America. Though the film's title officially refers to the many stitches holding Vincent/Clay's face together after the accident, "suture" is a film theory term, referring to the way a film audience gets wrapped up - sutured - in the world of the movie, choosing to forget the outside world and pretend the story is real. The usage is ironic, because the audience cannot be sutured in; we cannot, and are not expected to, suspend our disbelief that Clay is white. We are deliberately distanced. Consequently this is a movie to be thought about, not to to be felt. It has the shape of a Hitchcockian thriller but it can't evoke the emotions of one. You can see the scaffolding - "ah, yes, this is the part of a thriller where one man hides while another stalks him with a gun, clever." I feel ill-suited to comment on what the filmmakers are saying about race. I could venture a guess about the ending, where the psychiatrist, the only one who knows the truth about Clay, says he can never truly be happy living the lie of being Vincent Towers, while we see photographs of Clay/Vincent seemingly living an extremely happy life: society says white men simply belong at the top more than Black men do, but, if the roles could be reversed, the latter would slot in seamlessly. Maybe??? Of all the movies in this collection, this is the one I'd most want to read an essay on (followed by Swoon).

The Last Seduction (dnrw) No, no, no, I am not rewataching this piece of shit movie.

Brick (rw) Here's my weird contention: Brick is in color and in widescreen, but, besides that? There's nothing neo- about this noir. There's no swearing except "hell." (I always thought Tug said "goddamn" at one point but, no, he's calling The Pin "gothed-up.") There's a lot of discussion of sex, but always through implication, and the only deleted scene is the one that removed ambiguity about what Brendan and Laura get up to after kissing. There's nothing postmodern or subversive - yes, the hook is it's set in high school, but the big twist is that it takes this very seriously. It mines it for jokes, yes, but the drama is authentic. In fact, making the gumshoe a high school student, his jadedness an obvious front, still too young to be as hard as he tries to be, just makes the drama hit harder. Sam Spade if Sam Spade were allowed to cry. I've always found it an interesting counterpoint to The Good German, a movie that fastidiously mimics the aesthetics of classic noir - down to even using period-appropriate sound recording - but is wholly neo- in construction. Brick could get approved by the Hays Code. Its vibe, its plot about a detective playing a bunch of criminals against each other, even its slang ("bulls," "yegg," "flopped") are all taken directly from Hammett. It's not even stealing from noir, it's stealing from what noir stole from! It's a perfect curtain call for the collection: the final film is both the most contemporary and the most classic. It's also - but for the strong case you could make for Night Moves - the best movie on the list. It's even more appropriate for me, personally: this was where it all started for me and noir. I saw this in theaters when it came out and loved it. It was probably my favorite movie for some time. It gave me a taste for pulpy crime movies which I only, years later, realized were neo-noir. This is why I looked into Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang and In Bruges. I've seen it more times than any film on this list, by a factor of at least 3. It's why I will always adore Rian Johnson and Joseph Gordon-Levitt. It's the best-looking half-million-dollar movie I've ever seen. (Indie filmmakers, take fucking notes.) I even did a script analysis of this, and, yes, it follows the formula, but so tightly and with so much style. Did you notice that he says several of the sequence tensions out loud? ("I just want to find her." "Show of hands.") I notice new things each time I see it - this time it was how "brushing Brendan's hair out of his face" is Em's move, making him look more like he does in the flashback, and how Laura does the same to him as she's seducing him, in the moment when he misses Em the hardest. It isn't perfect. It's recreated noir so faithfully that the Innocent Girl dies, the Femme Fatale uses intimacy as a weapon, and none of the women ever appear in a scene together. 1940's gender politics maybe don't need to be revisited. They say be critical of the media you love, and it applies here most of all: it is a real criticism of something I love immensely.