#wondering.... pondering... ruminating.....

[kingofattolia]

but what about the king/lionheart dynamic when it goes wrong. when you've sworn yourself body and soul to serve someone in love, in wholehearted belief, when everything you are exists for that person. and then you see them changing, becoming someone you don't know. and it's sickening, but you're still going to serve. "don't go where I can't follow" but you're still going to follow even if they lead you to hell, because of the person they were. because of the person you are. because of who you are together, even if it's a poisoned, sick, distorted version of who you thought you would become

[tojisbbygworl]

The Apartment Across The Street pt. 1 - Sukuna x Reader

In the short time he watches her, he learns 3 new things: 1. She has a mirror on the left side of the window. 2. She is completely unaware of how easily someone could see her in all her half-naked glory. 3. Sukuna could overpower her if it came down to it.

Or maybe it’s 4 things. From the beating of his heart and the warm rushing feeling heading towards his dick, he learns the drug he thought he needed might not be a drug at all.

Words: 6.7k

Tags - 18+ MDNI, No Use of Y/N, No Curses, Set in late 90s/early 00s, Smut, Angst, High Sex, Missionary, Degredation, Marijuana, Slight x Toji (I can't help myself)

WARNINGS - Dead Dove, Dark, Non-Con/Dub-con, Breaking and Entering, Sukuna and Toji are criminals, Sukuna's a hitman, Choking, Violence

AO3 Version

Masterlist

author's note: Heyyyy! Okay I went a little too hard like I always do so this is a bit long and (imo) it get's a little intense so be warned. I hope you enjoy hopefully I have some motivation to keep writing. art cred: @innaillus

Pt. 2 Pt. 3

That apartment used to be empty.

Sukuna hadn’t been home in a week. He doesn’t mind. He’s learned to not have too many hopes or expectations in this line of work. Besides, he prefers being his own boss. He accepts contracts when he needs money then he’s off until it runs out. Doesn’t matter if they take days or even weeks.

Shorter jobs like this one weren’t his treat. They don’t pay as much as he likes, but it works out. These apartments were a bit shitty, they didn’t cost too much. And, he was right in the middle of the city. Easy to meet clients. The clubs went on all night long. Which is exactly how late he was out when he was home. Actually, he was planning to go out tonight. Meet up with Toji and see if he can’t get a woman in his bed by 2 am.

He wondered how long it would take to see his newest neighbor. The way the apartments in the complex are built, you could easily see into your neighbor’s bedroom. 'State guidelines say blinds aren’t required. You buy them,' was the response he received when he brought the problem up to the landlord. A lot of people invested in curtains, maybe they hadn’t bought any yet. He saw a bed, but it seems to be the only thing they’ve managed to set up. There were a couple boxes with flaps wide open sitting beside it.

After a few more moments of rumination, he closed his curtain and laid down on his bed waiting for a text to come over. In truth, he couldn't wait to see who was unlucky enough to be his new window neighbor. The last one didn’t go too well. They also didn’t invest in curtains and he isn’t entirely sure if he’s the reason they moved out, but he’s sure they didn’t appreciate catching his stare multiple times a day. And that one time at midnight.

-

All it took was the next morning.

Sukuna’s eyes crept open and he stared towards the ceiling. The girl he brought home last night was dead asleep and naked on his chest. He yawned and wiped his face tiredly. He nudged the girl off of him a bit, then sat up on the side of his bed. Ugh, he felt like shit. Toji always went entirely too hard when they went out, but Sukuna doesn’t mind. He has nowhere to be. Nothing to do. 

He got up and stretched then walked to the bathroom. As he completed his morning routine, he pondered about what today would behold for him. This is another reason he hated short jobs. Sukuna loves free time, but only if there’s something to do with it. There never really is.

He could kill that girl in his bedroom. In fact, he could have killed any girl he brought home since he moved in half a year ago. But the last time he made his job his hobby, it didn’t go so well for him. It was too close of a call, and getting arrested for murder just isn’t worth it. He could spend a couple months in the pen, not years at a time.

He spat out his toothpaste. Life was so fucking mundane. He had no life goals, barely any friends, his little brother hates him, and he works alone. All things he doesn’t actually care about, but shit, when is he going to get some excitement? Nothing gets him going anymore.

He needs something that will make him feel. A drug of some sort? But that doesn’t seem right to him. Even now as he walks back in the room staring at the woman in his bed, he feels nothing. If she woke back up and decided she wanted to have sex with him, he would say yes, but only because it’s something to do. He’s not feeling any particular way about her.

The moment he sat back down on the bed, she started shifting around. A few seconds later, she lifts her head and yawns. “Good morning.” She giggles, she leans over and kisses his cheek. Sukuna grunts.

The girl looks around the dark room. “It is morning, right?” She doesn’t let him answer before she stands up and opens the curtains. “Oh wow,” she exclaims. “I can see directly into your neighbor’s room.” She says. He still doesn’t get up, just hums at her.

“She’s cute though.”

Sukuna perks up upon hearing that. “Oh yeah? I haven’t seen her yet. She’s new.”

This was the first time since they’ve met that she said something interesting, but unfortunately for him, she drops the subject immediately and walks back into bed, leaving the curtains open. Sukuna holds back his sigh. Does he really want to spend the rest of his morning with this girl? It was half past 8. Way too early.

“I'm going to start getting ready for work,” he says without skipping a beat. She stops in her tracks and blinks at him, clearly not expecting that. It’s silent for a few moments. Sukuna’s not sure what she’s waiting on, but if it’s for him to say he’s kidding or let her stay, she’s sorely mistaken.

“Oh, I thought you were contracted,” she says nervously.

‘I only work when I feel like it, gorgeous.’ Sukuna inwardly curses himself for his suave nature. “Yeah. I got a contract. In an hour.”

His curtness and annoyed expression did good to make her feel completely and totally unwanted. The girl awkwardly smiled at him. “Oh, ha ha. Yeah…okay.” Sukuna got up and walked out of the room. Give her a little space to feel like shit while she gets ready to leave. He makes himself a cup of coffee, his face still that same blank expression even after he hears her rushing out the door from behind him. When she’s gone he takes himself back into his room.

He walks up to his window to close the curtains once more until someone catches his eye. He freezes and his eyebrows shoot upwards. That girl was right. She was cute. And he had the perfect view of her. She seemed to be posing or checking herself out. Sukuna wasn’t sure which one it was, but he hoped she didn’t stop. That bikini she had on was doing wonders for her, and him.

Something was off. Looking at her made him…tense. His hands were gripping the curtains, he was biting the inside of his cheek, his leg was shaking; Was it anxiety? No, she’s not making him nervous. What he’s feeling is euphoric. He likes it. He wants to grip her bare waist and squeeze her until she bruises.

In the short time he watches her, he learns 3 new things: 1. She has a mirror on the left side of her window. 2. She is completely unaware of how easily someone could see her in all her half-naked glory. 3. Sukuna could overpower her if it came down to it. Or maybe it’s 4 things. From the beating of his heart and the warm rushing feeling heading towards his dick, he learns the drug he thought he needed might not be a drug at all.

-

It doesn’t take long after that to finally meet her.

Before taking his most recent job, Sukuna had nearly consumed everything in his fridge. What was left was now finished and he spent a lot of his morning sulking at a half empty milk carton, his breakfast for the day. He hated eating out, it messed with his figure.

The local grocery wasn't too bad of a walk from his place, although he hated carrying everything back. He always bought a few necessities and a few ingredients to quickly whip something up for his dinner. Today, he’d have to bulk up if he doesn’t want to keep coming back.

As much as he hated the public, shopping never seemed to be a problem for him. He was tall and intimidating, he never smiled, he was always tense; people tended to avoid him like the plague. He appreciated it. But, as he enters the frozen meal aisle with his cart half full he wishes that just for a moment, he looked approachable. Then, this would be much easier.

There she was, in sweatpants and a cropped tube top, looking at the frozen pizzas. She looked like she had been home all day. She was much cuter now that he could see her better. A lot cuter. She’s pretty as hell.

Thank goodness, too. He already knew what her body looked like, what with her constantly taking pictures of herself in front of the window. She liked to play dress up, she would try on entirely different outfits before she was satisfied. Pretty soon, the colors of her bras and panties would be ingrained into his memory.

He stood there looking her up and down for a few more seconds before he started browsing once more. Although he really was looking for food he wanted, he used this opportunity to slowly get closer to her. He pretended to be interested in some frozen broccoli and he snuck a look at her. To his surprise, and enjoyment, she had done the same. When they made eye contact, she jerked and looked away. A couple moments after that, she grabbed her food and walked away into another aisle.

Sukuna chuckled to himself. She wouldn’t get away that easily. He dropped the broccoli in his cart and followed after her. He hadn’t seen which aisle she’d gone into, so he kept walking down and looking into each one until he found her trying to get some chips from a high shelf. He smiled upon seeing her struggle. Maybe this would be easier than he thought.

He managed to walk right up behind her and reach for the chips she was trying to get before she got startled. She gasped a bit and looked up at him. He looked down at her. Fuck, she was pretty. His heart started to pound, he could practically salivate at the idea of taking her home.

He hands her the chips before she can say anything, then walks away. Before he’s out of her sight he hears her say, “Thank you so much.”

Her cadence, the velvety softness of her voice; it made him want to drop to his knees. How sweet would she sound if he bit into her neck? How soft is her yelp when she stubs her toe? How shrill is her scream when she’s in pain?

Her appreciation made him stop in his tracks. He turned over his shoulder to look at her. She seemed nervous and her eyes were uncertain. Sukuna began to feel restless. So many ideas of what he could do to her if he got her alone were rushing through his mind and she was none the wiser. This aisle has been empty and no one has come by. He could take her right now.

Instead, he looks her up and down. “Yeah, sure.” And then he walks away with his shopping. He leaves wondering when next they’ll meet, she does the same as she watches his back.

-

“Still haven’t called the maintenance guy, huh? Lazy jackass.”

Sukuna turns his head to the side and glares at his unwanted guest. Toji may have been his best friend, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t want to break his fat neck and bury him in the park. Besides, that title meant jack shit. They met in jail and Toji helped him get on his feet when Sukuna’s sentence was up. Toji never really left him alone and Sukuna stayed because his family was rich. If anything, they were close acquaintances who had sex sometimes.

Speaking of Toji’s money, the asshole grew up in an affluent family which means his standards were a bit too high for the humble abode that Sukuna prefers. It was probably the most annoying part about him. He was complaining about the door to the bathroom. It didn’t close correctly so you had to force it shut. Something that just isn’t enough of a problem to be bothered to try and fix.

“Stop coming over if it annoys you so much,” Sukuna responds, taking another drag from their second blunt for the morning. He was finally starting to feel something from it and he didn’t want to hear Toji whining about bullshit.

“Nah, I think I’ll keep coming. Especially with your fine ass neighbor.” Toji walked away again, not seeing Sukuna’s head jerk towards him. What was he talking about? Sukuna didn’t tell him about her. Did he see her?

“Why the fuck are you in my room?” He gets up to follow behind him. Sukuna looks down the hallway and sees both his room and the bathroom doors wide open. The bathroom was empty. “Get out.”

He starts walking towards his room door but jumps back when Toji rushes out of it. “Come look at this,” he says, grabbing his arm.

Toji had this crazed grin on his face and he was tugging him along impatiently. “What the hell are you-” Sukuna’s words die in his throat as he gazes upon what had Toji so excited. It was his beautiful neighbor changing in front of her mirror again except, there was a big problem. She had never been completely naked before.

Holy shit, her body could stop a truck. Sukuna let his jaw drop. His eyes raked her from her breasts to her legs. She would turn around occasionally, walk back and forth in front of the window, oh he loved the way her tits bounced. He wanted her on top of him, his dick sliding in and out of her while he latched onto her nipple.

“She’s sexy as fuck, huh?” Sukuna’s unceremoniously snapped out of his trance by Toji’s comment. He turns his head towards him looking at his smile and twinkling eyes. “She do this all the time? Does she even know?” Toji gasps and looks him in the eye. “Does she do it on purpose?”

I’m that moment, a switch had flipped inside of Sukuna. Toji was watching her before he brought him in here. He saw her naked first. He shouldn’t have seen her at all. The warm swarm of butterflies in his abdomen had fluttered away, a feeling of rage building in his heart instead. She was Sukuna’s to look at, not Toji’s.

To answer his question, Sukuna shrugs. Then, they both turn towards her again only to make eye contact with her. They see her gasp, cover herself and shriek before running from the window. “Fuck,” they say in unison before shutting the curtain.

“I blame you for that,” Toji says despite both of them being at fault. He puts his hands in his pockets and walks out of the room. “Where’s the blunt?”

Toji may have forgotten about that little encounter, but Sukuna doesn’t think he can forget anytime soon. He hates that Toji got to see her like that. They still haven’t spoken more than once to each other, and now she knows he’s a pervert that stares at her through their windows. Sukuna scowls at the ground then slams his hand into the wall. She’ll leave soon just like the last one did, but this time, he doesn’t want to accept that as a possibility.

He gives himself time to calm down before joining Toji again. He can’t bring work home again.

-

It was over.

He saw her once after that incident. Waiting for Toji to pick him up for the night, he stood outside the local gas station smoking a cigarette. She’d been on his mind since. She invested in curtains, unfortunately. She was really uncomfortable. He’s not even sure if she’s left the apartment.

Thinking about what happened made him furious. If Toji hadn’t gone into his room he would have never seen her. Oh he just can’t shut the hell up about the shape of her ass and how he would let her suffocate him with her gorgeous thighs. Sukuna sighed, her thighs were gorgeous weren’t they?

She was a missed opportunity. There are so many ways he could have started something with her. It’s not like she didn’t like him, had they met again before that, he’s sure he could have gotten her number. Usually, missing out on a woman wasn’t that bothersome, but she was different for him. He looked forward to beating his dick under the windowsill while she tried on clothes. His imagination wasn’t bad, but by the time he came in his hands, his dick was red and sore and his arm was tired.

His memory is not enough. He wants her.

He looks at the time on his watch. A quarter ‘til midnight. He rolls his eyes. Toji’s always late. A quick snack is in order.

Sukuna mindlessly stares at the powdered donuts wondering if he really feels like fucking up his clothes and having dirty fingers. He hates club bathrooms, the one here is just as bad, and he doesn’t want to lick his fingers. Maybe he won’t. But right before he decides to leave, the door opens. He turns his head upon hearing the small ring of a bell, but doesn’t pay attention to the culprit until they’re in the same aisle. “Oh shit,” he said before he could stop himself.

He tries to look away before she notices, but it’s too late. He looks back at her and grimaces. The girl is shaken to her core. Poor thing is afraid. And while Sukuna feels a bit bad about making such a cutie so frightened, it kind of…warms his heart. She takes in a deep breath and twists back around. She doesn’t even buy anything. She just leaves.

He almost chases her. He stands in the aisle still reveling in her presence. He breathes deeply thinking about how nice it felt to have such power over someone. Hm.

Sukuna leaves the store only a few moments after her. Toji’s BMW was running next to a pump as he got out of the car. “Oh shit, there you are.” He grins. “Guess who I just saw.”

“I know. She was running from me.” Sukuna says, getting into the passenger seat.

Toji cackles while driving away. “Damn, so she’s scared of us, huh?” Sukuna shrugs. “She looked like it. Girl was huffing it. Actually…she ran down the street towards where we’re going.”

Sukuna raises a brow at him. Toji doesn’t say anything and just keeps smiling. “So?”

He turns on his beamers and slows down as he drives between the apartment buildings. Sukuna’s eyes widen as he realizes just what Toji’s trying to do. And soon his lips follow. Just up ahead was a figure with a hoodie walking very quickly. They turn around and immediately shield their eyes from the bright lights. It was her.

She seemed confused at first, and the bright light contrasted with the darkness of the night blinded her from seeing who was in the car. However, she didn’t stop walking or slow down. She decided to mind her business instead. It could be anyone. Anyone. Even though it was the same car waiting at the gas station.

Despite her telling herself that she’s okay, she couldn’t help but notice how they were matching her speed. And that once they had gotten right behind her, the window was rolled down. And that she still had a block left to go.

“Ay,” Sukuna shouted from behind her, effectively terrifying her. She turned to see his smile and upon further investigation, she saw Toji’s from the driver’s seat. Oh no. “You can’t say hi? You scared of me?” He taunts.

She ran.

-

And that was the worst thing she could have done.

There have been a few recent instances that made her question her move to this city. She was hoping to start a new life, away from her family, away from her ex, make some new friends; she didn’t think she would be planning to move out after a couple months.

That man…she didn’t know what the hell his problem was. Why did he and his friend follow her out of the gas station? Was he crazy? Did she do something to him? Since they followed her, she’s been racking her mind trying to figure out what the hell she did to deserve this. Before that, she had only ever spoken to him once at the grocery store. He was extremely intimidating, but she was intrigued by him. She didn’t mean to stare, but he was very attractive. Clearly he had seen it as some sort of invitation. Maybe he followed her into that aisle and it wasn’t just an act of kindness.

Coming home after work had become so much more nerve wracking. In fact, coming out of her unit brings her horrible anxiety. She’s constantly looking over her shoulder. Tries to pretend the building across doesn’t even exist. She doesn’t understand what took her so long to get curtains; it just wasn’t a priority for her. Either way, she didn’t deserve to be punished for her forgetfulness.

She’s in a weird position where the longer she goes without seeing him, the more worried she becomes even though she never wants to see him or his friend again. Currently, she was in the elevator heading up to her apartment. She was catching her breath and trying to relax now that she was safe. She does this everyday now.

She couldn’t wait to be home. The entire day she’s been feeling like complete crap. Her heart refused to leave her stomach. She dropped so many cups behind the bar that she spent more time sweeping and wiping up drinks than making them. And she was on the verge of tears the entire time. It was nice to be home, but she wondered how bad it would be tomorrow.

In fact, it was so bad today that although she was physically relaxed, her brain just wouldn’t be quiet. It kept telling her to stay alert, that there was still something waiting for her. She tried her best to ignore it and enjoy her night. She was going to kick off her shoes, rip off all her clothes, warm up her leftovers and hit her bong. She was off tomorrow and she is not planning on leaving her room at all.

She messed with her keys when she approached her door. All the apartments had two locks, a deadlock and a lock on the handle, but she was looking for another that she could attach herself. The home goods store near her didn’t have any promising ones, so she had to wait on a shipment.

She reached for the handle to unlock it. Her hand twisted the lever and she retracted it immediately. Her heart starts racing once more, but then she realizes the door was still closed. When she can’t get the door open, she sighs in relief. The deadlock was still intact and locked. The apartments are just shitty.

As relieved as she was in that moment, this just meant she had another problem to deal with. She couldn’t go with one of her locks not working, especially not the handle. In fact, maybe she’ll deal with it tonight. She does have tools and she can be pretty handy when she needs to be.

Like she wanted to, she kicks off her shoes and rips off her jacket. She almost takes off her clothes before she notices a certain smell in the air. Her apartment smelled of weed, but it smelled like someone was actively smoking right at that moment. Maybe it was her next door neighbor.

She walks through her silent home. Maybe she should get a cat. There are quite a few friendly strays around. She could afford-

What was that noise?

A bump. In her bedroom.

What could it have been? Had her worst fears come true?

No. It’s not possible…so why had that sinking feeling returned in full force? There was nothing in her room. There was no one in her room…

-

Toji had broken the lock for him. 'Just record it for me,' was his end of the bargain.

The place was just as cute as he thought it was. She still had a lot of things unpacked, and she hadn’t gotten a couch for the living room. Hm. He wonders if she really is planning on leaving. That would not be good.

He would want her to stay, but if she can get away from him, at least he’ll get a taste of her.

She leaves her weed out. Hm…he would enjoy this better if he were high. And he’ll make her smoke too. 

When he heard her coming closer to her room, he put the bong down and stood up. Her room was small and it was pitch black, the only light coming from the embers in the bowl. He hit her closet door and she heard it. Fuck. He hopes she doesn’t get a weapon out.

And she didn’t. This girl is…something else.

He hides right behind the door in between the wall and the hinges. Then, he waited quietly and patiently until she slowly opened the door and turned on the light. And before she could try to look around, he slammed the door shut behind her.

-

It all happened in a second.

She heard the door slam and time froze. She told herself then and there, that she was going to die tonight. She knew who her killer would be before she turned around. Did she even want to?

She didn’t have a choice, her body reacted before she could think. All she saw was a small scowl, he had brown eyes, but they looked tainted with blood. His hands, his large hands, shot towards her head and before she could scream he trapped her mouth shut. His other hand gripped the back of her head.

She fought him as violently as she could. She scratched his face, pulled his hair, tried to poke him in the eyes; but he was quick to show her that he was much stronger than her. He pulls his hand off of her mouth and smacks her across the face. She can only scream for a second before his hand is back on her mouth and he pushes her into the bed.

Sukuna takes his hand off of the back of her head and squeezes her neck. He still holds her mouth shut. She gets weaker and weaker as the oxygen leaves her brain. He leans down towards her face to speak to her. “You want to live?”

Tears had long been streaming down her face, but this is the point where she finally breaks down wailing. She lets her arms fall and Sukuna loosens his grip on her neck. But only slightly. She takes a deep breath and cries into his hand. “Answer me,” he says. “Come on, pretty girl.”

She cries a bit more before nodding her head in defeat. “I know. You’re gonna do what I say?”

She nods again. “You’re not gonna scream when I take my hand off?” She sniffles and sobs again. “Because you want to fucking live, right? Right?” He tightens his grip on her neck again. She kicks her feet and nods as best as she can. “Go turn off your light and turn on your lamp. You’re gonna smoke with me.”

He gets off her and watches her to make sure she does what he asks. It takes her a minute, she lays there quietly sobbing and wiping her tears while Sukuna takes another hit of her bong, but eventually she gets up to turn on her lamp, then flip her light switch. “Lock the door too. I like the feeling of extra privacy when I’m taking a woman to bed.”

-

He disgusts her.

He forces her to take several long hits that had her in horrible coughing fits. And of course, it wasn’t long before she was completely inebriated. She couldn’t really move too much, or think too much. But even though she was out of commission, she could hear every word Sukuna said to her.

He talked her ear off about how he’d been looking at her for a week before they met at the grocery store. All the way up until she realized just how exposed she was from catching him and his friend staring. It was her fault, is what he said. He said she was stupid to not think anyone could see her. She should have gotten blinds or curtains when she moved in. A fucking dumbass bitch.

That’s how she felt.

He taunted her as he watched her take her clothes off. His dick was already in his hand, he had been hard for a while. Imagining his dick finally pounding into her as he squeezes the life out of her.

‘I think you wanted someone to watch you,’ he said to her. She hung onto every word he said, answered every question he had. ‘You’re an attention seeking slut, aren’t you? Nod your head.’ And she did. ‘What’s your name?’ And she told him. ‘Take that shit off faster and come hit this again.’

She was completely out of it, but instead of floating, she sank. She sunk deeper into the bedsheets, Sukuna weighing her down with every word. Every stroke of his hand on her thigh, every lick on her neck and collarbone, every bite on her chest. When he reached down between her legs and stroked her clit, she moaned, then cried in shame.

“Shhhh,” he whispered in her ear from behind her. “You’re gonna love me. And if you’re good I won’t hurt you.” He kisses her ear, then nibbles on it. He leaves a trail of wet kisses down the side of her neck. She cries and shakes, twisting her head away from him as best as she could. Sukuna’s hands explore her body eagerly. He can’t decide whether he wants to grip her hips or play with her nipples. She was so soft, just as he imagined.

He flips her onto her back. “Look at me, baby.” She opens her eyes only slightly, her tears blurring her vision completely before falling. He takes his hand to cup her cheek and wipe them with his thumb. As she gazed upon his naked body on top of hers, she accepts her fate: this man was going to rape then kill her.

He looked deranged. His brows were knit together with a lopsided grin. Her body is racked with sobs once more. “It’s okay,” he tells her. “Shhhh.” He slowly brings his thumb wet with salty tears to her mouth. She tries to pull her head away, but he quickly attaches his hands back to her mouth and head then he leans down towards her. “I thought you said you wanted to live.”

She’s actually not sure at this point. Does she want to live with this trauma? Does she want to continue being this man’s neighbor for him to torture however he sees fit? Does she want to have to look at his building every single day living in fear that he’ll do it again? Living in fear of his friend getting any bright ideas?

“Just relax.” He lets go of her head and goes for her neck. She moans as he bites and sucks on it, making sure to leave a mark reminding her of what he did. It won’t be the only one.

Sukuna slowly takes his hands and lifts both of her legs in the air. He licks his fingers while looking at her, then bites his lip as he plays with her clit once more. She breathes harder and harder with every rub. They don’t break eye contact, it does something to him. He’s reveling in her fear. Her eyes were shot, her mascara and eyeliner running down her face. It made her look even more beautiful. She was making him feral.

Sukuna’s dick was an angry scarlet and dripped precum all over her leg where it rested. He was big and it scared her even more. As his eyes explored her body, he got hungrier and hungrier. He slides a finger inside of her and starts pumping. Her pussy was slick with her arousal.

“Fuck,” he whispered putting in another finger. He pumped his fingers hard enough to make her wetness splash. She threw her head back and arched her chest into the air. She sounded just as sweet as he thought she would. She was turning out to be everything he wanted and more. He wasn’t waiting any longer.

He yanked his fingers out of her and searched her bedside table for his camcorder. She whined when he removed himself from her and watched him. Sukuna pressed record.

“Say hi to Toji,” he told her, sticking the lens in her face. She closes her eyes and tries to avoid the camera. He grips her chin with his fingers and forces her head forward. “Ain’t she pretty?” Sukuna pulls away from her face to record her body. He takes her tit in his hand to play with. He jiggles and pulls on her nipple before smacking it. When she squealed he did it again.

“He’s gonna love watching me fuck the shit out of you.” Sukuna sat and balanced the recorder on her nightstand perfectly angled to show their torsos and hips. He gets back on the bed to grab her waist and pull her towards his. He groaned when he felt his dick rub against her pussy. “You know who I’m talking about, right? My friend? You know he saw you before I did.”

He pauses to spit into his hand and starts jerking his throbbing shaft. “I wanted to kill that fucker.” Sukuna leans over once more and kisses her several times before capturing her lips in one long and forceful kiss. He rubs his dick against her entrance as he does this, with a desperate moan from both of them to accompany it. Sukuna rests his forehead against hers. “Tell me you’re mine.” His eyes are fiery, and she doesn’t wish to find out what will happen if she fails to do what he asks.

His tip begins to poke through her entrance. She whimpers and he brings his head down and bites her lip. “Come on…”

“I’m yours-” He finally starts tucking his dick into her. The feeling of being inside her was heaven on Earth. He wasn’t ashamed of how loudly he moaned. She was louder anyway. They always are. Even when they don’t want it.

“My name is Sukuna.” She takes all of him like a fucking champ. And looks good as fuck while doing it. And her voice…

“I’m yours, Sukuna.”

A tear ran down her cheek. The dragging of his dick against her walls was nothing like she’s ever felt before. It felt so good, but she was the unhappiest she’d ever been. She’s terrified and unsure if she’ll live to see tomorrow. He says he won’t kill her if she’s good, but what does good even mean to him?

She knows there’s nothing she really could have done to avoid what was currently happening to her. This man- no, Sukuna, saw her when she was first moved in and decided then and there that he wanted to rape her. No matter what he claims about her being rude and ignoring him when he helped her. And yet, she blames herself.

If she had just gotten curtains or blinds early enough, then maybe she could have avoided him. Or maybe she wouldn’t have existed to him at all. At least he wouldn’t have known what floor she was on or her room. Maybe he wouldn’t have known what building she was in.

She was so fucking stupid.

-

He repeated that all night.

‘Stupid fucking bitch,’ he would mutter under his breath. ‘Changing in front of a window, thinking no one’s gonna see you? Posing in mirrors and shit?’ He fucked her at a smooth and steady rythym, she was soaking wet and splashing all over his stubble. The sheets were damp underneath. ‘Oh yeah. You like it when I talk to you like that?’ She couldn’t stop herself from crying in humiliation.

He asked her to cry louder for ‘Toji’, which she did, and he proceeded to smack her across the face for being too loud.

He felt amazing, he pushed her legs into her chest and hammered into her. She cried into his mouth as she came all over him. Her pussy squeezing his member drive him insane and before he knew it he was cumming inside her. ‘Fuck…’ He pulled out and jerked the rest of his cum onto her pussy and thighs. He quickly grabbed the camera to show Toji, with the flash on.

‘Look at that shit,’ Sukuna made sure to examine her at every angle. He pushed his finger into her and chuckled when she moaned. His index was covered with his cum and he brought it and the camera up to her body and face.

She was completely tired out. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t speak, she could barely even lift her eyelids. Sukuna kissed at her like a dog, then maneuvered the camera to her face. Her face was soaked with tears and spit. Her makeup had smudged everywhere and ran down her cheeks. Her hair was a mess, and she ached everywhere.

Her mouth hung open and Sukuna proceeded to jam his finger into it. He used it to pull her head back over to him and made out with her. Then, his dick started poking her ass.

She had no idea what time last night they were finally done, talk less of when she actually fell asleep. He smoked a blunt after the whole thing, sat her up so he could make her smoke too. He found her liquor cabinet. The night got worse.

She puked her guts out then fell asleep on the floor, but now she was in her bed trapped underneath him. They were both naked. She was sore as the day was long. He snores next to her. Holy fucking hell. She’s alive. Why is she alive?

She starts breathing heavily and looking around her room. She doesn’t know what to do. She didn’t think she would still be here.

In a flash, he’s up. His hand is over her mouth, and his eyes are staring into hers. He has a poker face. She shakes in his clutches and her eyes fill with tears already. “Relax. Listen to me. I know what you’re planning.”

What? What is he- “I dare you to fucking try and move away from me. I will follow you and ruin your life.”

“You said you were mine last night? Then you’re mine. You’ll do what I say, and I’ll do as I please with you. Do you understand?”

All she could do was nod. What could she say? She was planning on moving despite not having the money for it. She would have to save up. And now that he’s shown her what he’s capable of, why would she take the risk? 

Why is this happening to her? What did she do to deserve this? Want a better life for herself?

-

Sukuna was pleased with how the morning was going.

She was sitting on a stool in her dining room watching him make them breakfast with an ice pack on her face and a blanket over her body. She didn’t know what to think.

Suddenly, he perks up and turns towards her. “You got a phone, pretty?” 

She could throw up again. She swallows and points towards the hall . “My room,” her voice was hoarse and weak. “On the other side of the bed.”

He pauses and blinks at her. She gets scared again wondering what she did wrong this time. He turns the heat off. “You’re coming with me.”

Toji answers in a flash. “So, how was it?”

“You’re gonna like what you see.” He turns towards where she’s sitting on the bed. “Isn’t that right?” She’s not amused.

“Are you…are you with the bitch right now?” Toji asks.

“Yeah,” Sukuna makes his voice dreamy. “We’re going steady.”

ending a/n: Please lmk what you think ! Thank you for reading !

Masterlist

W E L C O M E P A G E

[tsukimefuku]

kintsugi :: higuruma hiromi

Higuruma, former lawyer, curse user, and reformed jujutsu sorcerer tries to make sense of what his life has become after the war is finally over.

content warning: spoilers for jjk 269. hinted kusahigu. mostly fluff and introspection, some hurt and comfort if you squint.

wc: 1.8k

notes etc.: written to the sound of “here I dreamt I was an architect” by the decemberists. Inspired by this stunning higuruma fanart by @valleyofwater.

The sun hung high, and fully illuminated the classroom with the golden spring warmth. The blue sky surrounding it would be pristine, if not for a few stray clouds that on occasion cast its shadows over Jujutsu High, only adding to the idyllic, leisurely ambiance. 

“I didn’t understand that very well,” Yuji admitted as he sheepishly scratched the back of his neck, earning him the indignant grunts from Megumi and Nobara.

“What do you mean? Higuruma-san explains things much better than Gojo sensei ever did and you learned from him, of all people!” Nobara complained, leaning over her classmate’s chair and smacking the back of Yuji’s head with her fist. She then proceeded to adjust her eye patch and sink into her chair with her arms crossed over her chest.

“His explanation was, indeed, very clear,” Megumi chimed in as Yuji attempted to soothe his pain by brushing his fingers over a growing bulge on his scalp. 

Higuruma, unaccustomed to juggling three teenagers, solely watched the unfolding scene in utter helplessness. With a sigh, he reclined back against the black board while looking at Itadori.

“What exactly did you fail to understand?” 

Yuji cleared his throat for a second, knowing full well his answer would earn him another round of getting kicked around like a poor puppy.

“Everything,” he whispered, lowering his gaze towards the floor before Nobara’s protests in disbelief reverberated like a roar throughout the vicinity.

With a sigh of resignation, Higuruma relaxed his shoulders while checking his wrist watch.

“You do better with practical lessons, Itadori,” the reformed jujutsu sorcerer remarked.

“I do!” Yuji confirmed, starting to pull a contented smile on his face.

“That wasn’t a question.” 

“Oh.”

That smile left as quick as it came.

Megumi covered his face with his palm, and wondered for a second when the elation for being back to normal life gave place to the mundane, every-day annoyance of dealing with Itadori and Kugisaki’s shenanigans.

“Let’s wrap this up for the day, and tomorrow we can have a practical lesson at the Dojo,” Higuruma concluded, crossing his arms.

After some fumbling around, the three students finished packing their things. Nobara and Megumi stepped outside, as she tried to place a bet on who would get to the vending machines first. Megumi’s grumpy demeanor did little to hide the fact that he had, even if begrudgingly, taken her up on her challenge.

Yuji remained on his chair, though, still ruminating on his hardship to learn about the inner workings of the cursed energy world as quickly as his classmates.

Higuruma looked at the boy, and remained silent for a short while before asking him what was the matter.

“It’s just… I don’t know, after everything that happened, I thought I could learn these things faster now, you know?”

Softly brushing his hand around his jaw, Higuruma pondered for a moment.

“Each person has a different learning process. I learned jujutsu by reverse engineering my own cursed technique and figuring out how it worked. Most learn about cursed energy and then go onto training their own CTs all the way up to domain expansion. It’s fine. With only three students, we can tailor classes for each and every one of you.”

His words seemed to soothe Yuji, who looked at Higuruma and spared him a relieved smile.

“I guess you’re right,” Yuji conceded, pondering for a few moments before proceeding, “you remind me of someone.”

“I do?”

“Yes,” Yuji replied, getting up and walking towards the door. For a second, Higuruma’s suited up, responsible demeanor brought him flashbacks of a much lighter colored suit, a blonde, side parted hair and a pair of green shades. “He was a very serious person, and kind, just like yourself.”

Higuruma’s mouth fell slightly open, but no words came out before Yuji waved at him, bidding his teacher goodbye before sprinting towards Nobara and Megumi.

I am so out of my element. Why did I agree to come here, of all places? Higuruma asked himself while sinking down on his desk’s chair. 

“Rough class?” 

The familiar, low baritone voice came accompanied by a few footsteps inside the classroom. Hiromi lifted his gaze to see the signature brownish-beige trench coat, along with the man who wore it.

“Good afternoon, Kusakabe,” Hiromi offered, nudging himself over his seat while motioning to get up. Kusakabe signaled for him to keep seated with one of his hands, before leaning himself on the desk’s side with his hands in his pockets and a lollipop shoved into his mouth.

“Rough life,” Higuruma replied, half in jest. Truth was, those past few months — nearly half a year after the fight at Shinjuku against Sukuna — felt like some sort of uncomfortable fever dream to Higuruma.

He was offered the opportunity to atone for his crimes as a teacher at Jujutsu High, and he seized said opportunity. However, the former lawyer caught himself struggling to fall asleep most nights while pondering. He didn’t know, unfortunately, what had made his soul so uneasy.

“At least we are not shacked up like sardines inside a makeshift bunker while fighting for our lives against a genocidal maniac,” Kusakabe promptly replied, earning him a nod from Higuruma.

”I guess you’re right. How has life as the new NSS headmaster been?”

“Almost pushing me back into smoking. Sometimes, I wish these lollipops were made out of pure nicotine.”

At that, Higuruma spared a quick, discreet smile.

“That bad?”

“Don’t even get me started on it,” Kusakabe grunted, glancing over towards the windows. “It’s a beautiful day, huh?”

Higuruma looked down at his hands, which sat together over the desk. After Kusakabe was done admiring the view, he turned his eyes to Higuruma, noticing the man sinking further into himself.

”Higuruma, how have you been? Is everything alright?” 

“I…” Higuruma let his voice drag, uncertain just as his feelings had been about everything that had happened ever since that fateful day in Keita’s trial, “I don’t know how to do this.”

“Do what?” Kusakabe inquired, confused.

“I thought I was supposed to die back at Shinjuku. I believed that I would fulfill my duty, and… I don’t know, achieve some sort of spiritual absolution if I died while playing my role in the battle against Sukuna. But I just lived. It doesn’t make sense, it’s not adding up to me.” 

Kusakabe quickly realized this was the first time Higuruma was effectively putting these feelings into words, and conceded him the moments’ reprieve necessary for the man to collect his thoughts.

“Everything I’ve learned since gaining my CT was how to fight a war.” 

Higuruma sighed, and upon further contemplation, realized that what he said wasn’t the entire truth.  

“Actually, ever since I was a lawyer, all I ever did was fight a war, be it symbolically or literally. No one told me how to live my life after it was over, in peaceful times. I don’t think I quite know how to do that.”

“No one does,” Kusakabe quickly interjected.

“What?” Higuruma asked, his voice slightly surprised.

“No one knows how to live life. We’re just… living it, and doing what’s needed to get by. Clinging to what might give it some meaning from time to time.” 

Higuruma looked down, and let his colleague’s words sink in slowly. For all this time, he’d felt like a movie that overstayed its welcome, dragging along its plot for much longer that it should have. Upon experiencing the warmth of the sun coming through the wide set windows caressing his skin, however, Higuruma thought it didn’t seem so bad, after all.

“Everything I had ever believed in was broken, and I guess I was, too. My life,” Higuruma remarked, “and I’m finding it hard to piece things back together. I don’t know if that’s possible.” 

“I suppose you’ve heard of kintsugi,” Kusakabe said while pulling another lollipop from his pocket and replacing the already finished candy with a new one.

Higuruma was taken aback by the sudden shift in the conversation.

“The practice of fixing broken ceramic pieces with gold? Yes, I’m familiar.”

“Your life is the broken ceramic.”

… What?

Kusakabe had no ease for metaphors, and it showed in Higuruma's completely puzzled expression.

With a grunt, the seasoned sorcerer pulled the lollipop from his mouth and began gesturing around, as if trying to pull the words to have himself make sense out of thin air.

“What I mean to say is… broken things can be fixed, and sometimes the way they’re fixed can make them more valuable than they were before. Or something like that.”

Higuruma’s confusion subsided for the most part, but he remained silent to see if Kusakabe would offer some final commentary.

He did. 

“There is value in the healed cracks. That’s all. Perhaps this second chance you’ve been given is an opportunity to do just that. Heal those cracks with something valuable, I mean.”

Higuruma’s eyes traveled gently over the classroom in front of him, and he finally gazed out the window while actually paying attention to it for the first time in a long while. He saw the golden rays of sunshine projecting a soft, welcoming light over the students’ desks, noticed how clear the sky truly was, and the cloud-scattered blue that encompassed it all together as a visual symphony.

“It really is a beautiful day, after all,” Higuruma remarked, looking back at Kusakabe with a smile.

Kusakabe’s eyes met Hiromi’s, and this was probably the first time he had actually seen the man smiling with actual joy.

In a second, Kusakabe coughed, feeling his face warming up, and averted his gaze while covering his mouth with his fist.

“Is everything alright?” Higuruma asked, gently tilting his head to the side. “Did you choke on your lollipop?”

“No. It’s okay, I’m fine,” the other man answered, mentally pulling himself back to normal. “I just really have to go back to work.”

“Oh. Okay. I should probably leave this classroom too and get something to eat.” 

Kusakabe nodded and propped himself up, walking towards the door. However, he stopped as he was nearly past it, and turned around.

“Higuruma.”

The former lawyer had just gotten up himself, and turned to face his colleague.

“What?”

“Me and some other people from jujutsu high — assistants, mostly — will have a happy hour this Friday. Would you like to join us?”

The question caught Hiromi completely off guard, and he faltered for a few seconds before clearing his throat and answering, “yes. I appreciate the invite.”

Kusakabe nodded once more. “Okay. See you this Friday, then.”

As he watched Kusakabe leaving, Higuruma could feel the liquid gold slowly seeping into the cracks of his broken life, gluing things back in place.

written by tsukimefuku ㋡ comments and reblogs are appreciated. do not copy, translate or repost. copycatting is for losers.

[leggerefiore]

I understand if this is too triggering so you don’t want to touch it, but I have a somewhat cathartic request. Did any of the kids take longer to conceive than their parents hoped/planned? If so, how did they deal with the feelings that came with it?

cw: mentions of pregnancy and infertility, struggles conceiving

characters: Ingo, Volo

▲Ingo▼

● Admittedly, Ingo's son was not an instant success in coming to be. He truly held many ideals. Far too many. He would admit that he was horribly concerned about various things when many attempts went by without bearing fruit, so to speak. Was there something wrong with him? Infertility hung in the back of his mind, but he was far too terrified to even say the word until he absolutely had to. In that case, he knew adoption was an option, yet he desperately wished to experience every step of the way with his partner. He was careful in tracking various things and eating foods and vitamins meant to aid in the act of conception. His breaks at work were spent reading articles after articles related to conception. Truly, he definitely seems like he is going mad.

● His feelings are both sad and determined. He realises quickly that his expectations for it to be simple and easy were not something that anyone should hold. Hurt eats at his heart, which would only be worsened if the situation also saddens his partner. It stings to know that both of them shared these strong feelings. Yet, his nature as a responsible person refuses to let him ruminate on these sorts of things. As stated before, he turns in his energy into looking for solutions and aids in changing this. It was not the end of the world should there be failure to conceive. There were various options to explore aside from the most common way – neither of you were failures or lesser people for this. It was simply a commonality in the world that no one really openly discussed.

● Though, he is in literal tears when his partner shows him a positive pregnancy test. All his hard work… He squeezes them into a tight hug and shouts a loud “bravo.” His joy in unable to be held back. He will quite literally do anything for his partner now. (Not that he would not have before.)

📜Volo💫

⭐️ To Volo's endless frustration and blaming of being in Arceus's ire and shadow, his child seemingly is denied to him. Now, seeing as the time period is the 1800s, Volo does not exactly have the extensive knowledge of fertility that someone of the modern era could obtain, so he absolutely assumes that Arceus denies him this simple wish. To him, a child is a necessity. His bloodline is deeply important to him – He refuses to allow the ancient Sinnoh people to end with him and Cogita. Yet, a certain deity seems keen to make that a reality despite his endless efforts in trying to change that. He ends up consulting Cogita to find answers about what he should do – There was little else who he could turn, and he trusted her most of all in this world.

⭐️ Mostly, he feels spite and angry. Volo's cruel side really gets fully exposed when it comes to anything he is desperate about, and this is, unfortunately, something that he was desperate for. He berates himself while pondering truly if there is something wrong with him to bring about this situation. Then, he will turn towards his partner and wonder if it is them before realising that Arceus's chosen likely would not be stricken with such an affliction. He turns fully into any action or belief or myth that may absolve this situation. Pleading to Landorus and Enamorus for some kind of blessing – Perhaps even daring to scream for Arceus to do something. Honestly, he is not exactly the most stable and capable of handling this. His partner will have to help comfort him while getting little in return for their own feelings about this.

⭐️ But, in the end, whatever deity had heard his plea gave a reply in the form of an obvious swelling of his partner. All his desperation and heartache are finally vanquished. His attention then shifts in maintaining this precocious thing – food, comfort, and safety being deeply ingrained in his mind. He is ready to do anything to make sure this happens – Truly anything.

[littleplantfreak]

It’s heavy

Erm its a small thing about wanting to carry Ume’s burdens ig that ive been thinking about (even though i ended up going a whole other direction than i originally daydreamed. When i first thought about it, it was gonna be like stand in the rain dramatic but.)

its sfw and theres no cws i think except it’s kinda spoilery from recent chapters (not in depth tho) Also I read through it once but you know how it goes with proofreading owo)/

"I didn't know it would feel that heavy," Sakura says, mid bite into his lunch.

"Whatd'ya mean?" You swallow your own food before getting a drink. He's talking about Umemiya.

"The resolve to fight. For the town, the people you...love," he grits out the last word, still unused to verbally speaking about affection, but he's been getting better. "The weight of everything on your shoulders makes it hard to move sometimes" Your eyes widen at that. At the change in demeanor since he first came to town. He's really improved since you first met and honestly the change is for the better.

"Is it...a bad feeling?" You wonder, food forgotten now that the conversation has turned serious.

"Not bad, just annoying. And comforting? I don't know how to explain it." He's flushed now, embarrassed by the inability to find the proper words to convey just how it is. It's one of those things you have to feel for yourself to really grasp.

"Exhausting too I bet," you say more to yourself, thoughts suddenly going fully to the white haired man. Two bi-colored eyes look your way as you twirl your fork in your hands thoughtfully. He turns even redder when he sees your dazed look, knowing you're ruminating about Umemiya. You take out your phone, shooting out a text to see where he's at. When he texts back that he's on his way to the cafe from school, you decide you'll meet him halfway, telling Sakura you'll be back in a bit and that he can have your leftovers.

You're jogging really, not caring about pacing yourself when an urge has overtaken you. The anxiety spreads in your chest to your arms and hands, prickling at your fingertips. Nothing's wrong, but at the moment you feel like if you don't see his face soon, you'll never see it again. Logically, you talk yourself down knowing those thoughts are just your brain screwing with you, but the feeling won't go away until you get to him.

The sun warms Hajime’s face as he heads to Kotoha’s, wind blowing the chimes as they clink daintily. He's got an easy walk going, not surrounded by people for once.

The look on his face when he spots you is one of delight, slowly switching to concern from the way you're running towards him, cheeks flushed.

"Hey pumpkin, what's with the running? Somethin' up?" He asks before you plow straight into his chest, arms squeezing around his waist. You shake your head, tightening him in your hold knowing it's not gonna hurt him in the slightest.

"Can I carry it sometimes?" you mumble from his chest after a minute of breathing in his scent, sweat and deodorant mixing into a smell that was so him it calmed the frayed nervous that had been unraveling. When he asks what you'd be carrying, you lift your face to lock eyes with him.

"You? Everything you're carrying? Not all the time, but I don't want you to be the only one shouldering so much weight. I'm not that strong, but," you're suddenly self conscious about it, looking down at your feet for a second before forcing yourself back to look at his face. "but I can do it for you. Whenever you need me to." You finish, waiting on his response. He breathes deep and ponders it for a second, the look on his face a mix of hesitance and adoration at your declaration. For once he’a speechless, but he’s not surprised it’s you who’s rendered him as such.

“…I love you,” he says simply, eyes wide. Like he just rediscovered the fact despite his almost constant mission to let you know that with his words and actions on a daily basis.

“That’s not what-,”

“I know. I know, but I just wanted to say it I think. Or I couldn’t help it.” He kneels down to your level, holding both of your hands in his own, a look of resolve in his cloud grey eyes. “I can try…letting you carry some of it. It’s heavy.”

“That’s fine,” and you release his hands before grabbing his face. “I’ve got you.”

Atlas was punished to hold the weight of the world, but Hajime isn’t Atlas and he has you.

You both drop the subject for a bit, a ghost of the conversation still stays lingering in both of your heads. It's easy to say he'll rely on you like that, but the truth is putting it into practice is remarkably difficult.

He's still wondering how to work this new part of your dynamic when you decide to take the bull by the horns. He wakes up and shoots a text to Hiragi, telling him he'll meet him at the bakery to help paint the new sign, but he receives a text back saying it's been taken care of. Well that clears things up a bit, he thinks. So he goes to Kotoha's knowing she's been needing someone to do a supply run...only to find the first years already carrying the groceries over, and when he tries to help put them away? He's blocked from them, Nirei stuttering that they can handle it on their own.

His sister chimes in, though, that she thinks you really needed help with something over near the park. He thanks her, figuring his two main task for the day were complete, albeit almost immediately without him lifting a finger. By the time he makes his way to you, it seems you've been sitting for a while, passing the time on your phone wearing one of his old hoodies.

"You needed help lovebug?" He's asking, a hand running rough his hair, breath taken at the sight of you. You don't look any way different from any other day, but the feeling he gets in his chest when he sees you has yet to fade and he doesn't think it ever will.

"Yeah. It's a tough job. Think you can help?"

"Anything for you." You can tell by his voice and the look on his face that he means it.

"I want my boyfriend to relax for the day. Do you know how I can make that happen?" Faux innocence filling your expression. A few things click in his head at once. Throughout the week, his schedule seemed to be getting freer and freer no matter how many people he'd heard needed help with something. Every time he checked in with the person, someone had already taken care of it vehemently denying a need for any more assistance. Even today, the two things he planned to do were quickly swept up and deposited for someone else to do.

The look on your face, and your question have the last puzzle piece fitting into place. He'd smack himself for taking this long to notice if he wasn't flushing a bit right now. You were around less during the week or at the very least on your phone a bit more than usual, but he chalked it up to it being a busy week for you. He never would've thought you were working behind the scenes to lighten his load.

He'd gotten more done for himself this week than he had in a while and he had you to thank for that, even though it took him a while to figure it out. He thought briefly about thanking you, but realized this is what you wanted to do, no thanks necessary. So he shrugs before answering your question.

"I could've sworn he said something about really wanting to kiss you right now. He's around here somewhere I think," he's walking closer, hand on his chin, looking around as if to search for himself.

"Great, when you find him, let him know I've got a pillow and blanket fort set up at home with a stack of movies near the TV." You dodge him, twisting out of the way to head in the direction of your place. He huffs a laugh before running up to your side, arm wrapping around your waist, and drawing you in a close hug. He presses a big kiss to the crown of your head, and releases you just enough to keep walking. He feels lighter than he has in a while, and if you'd been asked, you would've told him the same thing.

[xiaosbf]

at the end of a world

notes: discussion of the world ending

“If you knew the world was going to end soon, what would you do?” On the outside, the question springs up from out of nowhere, perhaps born from a fleeting thought that’s been on your mind as of recent.

A perplexed look furrows from Xiao’s eyebrows as he turns to regard you, looking like he was wondering what spurred this sudden shift from the shared silence. “If the world was going to end soon?” He repeats to assure he heard correctly.

Swinging your legs absently overhead the view beneath Wangshuu Inn, you cant your head in a small nod.

A pause enters the conversation for a minute or two before Xiao finds his answer, “I’d spend my remaining days continuing in diligently protecting you and the citizens of Liyue. I would ensure that there would be no disruptions in their moments of passing.”

“What about you?” Your reply is immediate, almost making Xiao jump in its quickness.

“…I have no need of rumination. I have made peace with my finality long ago. My time is better spent in service of Liyue.”

“Then,” You drawl somewhat, eyes drifting from the metallic roofing you sit upon with Xiao who always dutifully chided you at how dangerous your persistent presence up here was, to the distant Guili Plains and ask, “what about me?”

“You?” Xiao looks even more confused at that.

“Selfishly, what if I wanted my last moments to be spent with you?” You ponder the idea aloud, enjoying the cool breeze that flutters by.

You hear an intake of breath.

Gently, with his hand already in yours— a commonality between you two— you offer a gentle squeeze, a small smile pairing with your affection.

“…You are the most troublesome of humans.”

A bigger grin splits across your face.

“…but if you wish it so, then I’d make time to remain by your side… until our last breath gives way.”

[veritas-scribblings]

ration - @jegulus-microfic - words: 957

The bar thrums. James can feel the beat of the base in the floor beneath him, in the glass of warming beer he holds in his hand. Sirius, being the freak he is, has chosen some immensely depressing Pink Floyd songs as the theme for the night because, he says, it fits his ‘vibe’.

James has thought about sneaking some Taylor Swift onto the playlist, but he reckons Sirius might actually kill him for it and James fancies being alive for the moment, because he has too much to accomplish. He’s a man on a mission.

James has rented out the lower-level—the basement, Sirius calls it—for Sirius’s birthday. It’s a very hipster kind of scene: rusted piping overhead, reclaimed timber benches, rough brick walls. Sirius loves it for the irony, he says, but James doesn’t think there’s much ironic about it. 

Not with the old-fashioned punk-rock style Sirius has going on and the messy man-bun.

‘You’re here!’ James whisper-shouts over Pink Floyd’s High Hopes. 

Regulus turns around. There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips, ever so slight that James knows he could be mistaken. But James will take it anyway; he’ll take it all, every last crumb.

‘I’m here,’ Regulus says. Brushing his hair from his eyes, he glances around disdainfully. He doesn’t fancy crowds, James knows, and he won’t stay long. It’s just an appearance, most likely because Sirius had buttered him up enough that he has now decided to put the effort in.

‘Quite the event you’ve thrown,’ Regulus says. 

James shrugs. ‘You know Sirius. Loves to be the centre of attention.’

‘I thought that was you, but I guess you’re two of a kind. Life of the party, circle of worshipers, boy glory, fall at your feet kind.’

James chuckles. Regulus isn’t wrong, he supposes. But Regulus doesn’t fall at his feet, won’t even deign to look at James half the time. But still, James is gone. Gone, because Regulus is beautiful, smart and witty, and James is the one worshiping at the feet of his glory. Regulus is mean and prickly, soft and gentle, and James is here for all of it.

‘Buy you a drink?’ James blurts out. He’s had enough liquid courage that it’s loosened his tongue ever so slightly. He hopes that it’s loosened his tongue enough for him to eventually ask Regulus to dance.

Regulus raises an eyebrow and eyes the glass of beer that James is still holding.

The beer that is warm.

Warm with rumination. Warm with vacillation. Warm with the lonely pity-party James had been throwing for himself while he pondered whether or not Regulus would walk his way, speak to him, smile at him, dance with him…

‘It’s warm anyway,’ James shrugs. Places the glass down. ‘So, can I buy you a drink?’

Regulus laughs, barely audible over the music. A quiet, beautiful sound. What a beautiful, beautiful sound. James wishes that Regulus would do it again. And again. That Regulus may never stop finding joy in the world.

Even though Regulus had likely been laughing at him. James will be his joy, be what makes Regulus laugh…

‘Buy me a drink?’ Regulus repeats. ‘Why? Do you have an ulterior motive, Potter?’ He says this in a low, almost husky voice. ‘Hoping to get me loose?’

‘What?’ James flushes in alarm, knows that the warmth flooding him isn’t from the beers he’d been drinking. ‘What, no! I—no, no, I swear. It’s a party and you…drink…at a party?' he finishes lamely.

Regulus, James realises, is laughing at him. That beautiful, beautiful sound that is his laugh. ‘I’m teasing Potter,’ he says wryly. ‘Yes, you can buy me a drink. Two, in fact.’

James grins and beckons Regulus over to the bar, where he buys a beer for himself and two whiskeys for Regulus (because, of course, the posh bastard drinks fancy whiskey). 

But then Regulus takes the drinks, grins at James, and the son of a bitch departs. Just departs with only a ‘thank you’. A lingering look, like he’s asking James to watch him walk away. And yes, the back of Regulus is as wonderful as the front of Regulus. He’ll take every and any form of Regulus, but…

‘What?’ James breathes, speechless, flushed again. Not from the beer. This time, not even from embarrassment and horror, but from pure utter confusion and shock.

There’s a laugh, a bark that is audible over the beat of the music. So different from Regulus’s beautiful laugh. ‘He’s Regulus.’ Sirius slaps James on the shoulder in commiseration. ‘If you offer to buy him a drink, you’ll need to specify that he…you know, stay and drink it with you.’

‘What?’ James just repeats. ‘What do you mean I have to specify?’ 

Sirius roars with laughter, dropping himself down onto the bar stool next to James who is now staring despondently down into his glass. Of course Sirius is enjoying his suffering. What are friends for?

‘He’s playing hard to get, mate.’ He rubs circles comfortingly on James’s back, though he’s still laughing like this is the best thing that he’s seen and heard in a while. ‘Going to make you really work for it.’

For a moment, James hates that Sirius had managed to drag it out of him, that James is utterly gone for his little brother. Because, for some reason, Sirius just loves the idea. Not necessarily the idea of James and Regulus potentially (hopefully) together, but the idea that Regulus is going to go out of his way to make James’s pursuit of him the most drawn out and stressful endeavour of James’s short, short life.

But will James stop? No. Because James is an idiot. An idiot gone.

[waitmyturtles]

Turtles Catches Up With Old GMMTV: KinnPorsche, and Analyzing the KP Cultural Zeitgeist Edition (Part 1)

[What’s going on here? After joining Tumblr and discovering Thai BLs through KinnPorsche in 2022, I began watching GMMTV’s new offerings -- and realized that I had a lot of history to catch up on, to appreciate the more recent works that I was delving into. From tropes to BL frameworks, what we’re watching now hails from somewhere, and I’m learning about Thai BL's history through what I’m calling the Old GMMTV Challenge (OGMMTVC). Starting with recommendations from @absolutebl on their post regarding how GMMTV is correcting for its mistakes with its shows today, I’ve made an expansive list to get me through a condensed history of essential/classic/significant Thai BLs produced by GMMTV and many other BL studios. My watchlist, pasted below, lists what I’ve watched and what’s upcoming, along with the reviews I’ve written so far. Today, in a two-part series, I offer my thoughts on KinnPorsche, my very first Thai BL, and the impact that I think KP has had on the Thai BL industry since 2022.]

Hot damn! It has been a MINUTE since my last OGMMTVC review, so I'm glad to be back. I've been very much looking forward to writing my thoughts about my recent KinnPorsche rewatch: I enjoyed this ENTIRE process, especially in regards to watching KinnPorsche in the context and chronology of past Thai BLs, and man, did I ever see KP WAYYYYY differently than the first time I watched it.

Why's that? Welp -- *KinnPorsche was my first-ever Thai BL*. (Not my first BL drama ever; that award goes to the GOAT, Kinou Nani Tabeta?/What Did You Eat Yesterday?)

But when I joined Tumblr officially in July 2022, just about a year and a half ago (in the heat of passionately obsessing over Old Fashion Cupcake), my dash was awash, AWASH, in KP posts. AWASH.

I had no idea what the fuck the algorithm was telling me.

I went into KinnPorsche knowing absolutely NOTHING about Thai BL tropes, the history of the genre, the actors in the roles, what made KP so innovative by way of its storyline, NADA. Dudes -- I'm half-Malaysian, and I had never even watched a show from the Southeast Asian region, let alone Thailand, and I was unaware of how prolific the Thai drama industry was (at least compared to the Korean drama machine).

When I first watched KinnPorsche, my perspective was that I had watched a pretty good show, and I was left surprised back then in particular by the No Homophobia Bubble (well, almost no homophobia, Big) that I now know is so much more common in Thai BLs than I realized.

It was through KinnPorsche that I discovered Thai BLs, and it was subsequently through Bad Buddy that I realized that I NEEDED to understand the development of this national genre -- so back to the history annals I went, through my OGMMTVC project, starting from 2014's Love Sick, and here we are at this moment of the timeline, the hot hot late spring and summer of 2022, enjoying the ✨vibbbeeezz✨ between Mile Phakphum and Apo Nattawin, and leaving me wondering why there was a national shirt button shortage in the midst of a Thai mafia crime drama. I'm glad I have history on my side now as I think about KinnPorsche as a standalone drama, and as I also think about the impact it has had on the Thai BL genre and fandoms prior to its premiere, up to today's moment in time.

I took my time to draft this piece partly because I was busy watching Be On Cloud's second and latest serial drama in Dead Friend Forever. I think BOC is doing something very interesting by way of their acting and contracted scripting choices, which I want to ponder by way of the context and aftermath of KP's airing. As such, while I had intended to write just one post about KP, I have a bunch of thoughts that'll spill over to tomorrow. So here we go, a quick overall outline for the lovers for today and tomorrow on my ruminating thoughts:

1) My critical thoughts on KinnPorsche as a standalone drama in the context of the history of previous Thai BLs, 2) My thoughts on how new arrivals to the wider Thai BL fandom shaped the perception of KP vis à vis older Thai BLs, 3) How I think KP has impacted how other studios approach, market, and write Thai BLs now, and 4) A quick passing thought on BOC's own continued influence on the Thai BL genre and industry since 2022, particularly by way of Dead Friend Forever.

I'm going to concentrate on numbers 1 and 2 in this piece, and they're actually going to be a touch conflated, because I want to lean into a now-obvious fact that the BL Elder community knew all along about KP when it first aired in 2022: there was not much that was new about what KinnPorsche was doing. (This is not necessarily a bad thing, as I’ll get into below.)

When I was a newbie on Tumblr, and the algorithm was feeding my dash, I remember seeing posts about how Be On Cloud, the studio behind KP, was doing things differently than the rest of the Thai BL field -- I recall posts about the studio hiring the best acting coaches, how the cinematography was nothing like what we had seen in other shows, and how Be On Cloud was committed to creating safe environments for its actors, particularly Apo Nattawin, who had reportedly faced discrimination in his past acting career, reportedly leading him to leave the Thai drama industry for a number of years.

While some very early Thai BL studios were known to not have the safest or friendliest environments (the filming of What The Duck comes to mind by way of this lore), by the time of KP's airing, GMMTV had strongly established itself as the leader of Thai BL productions, and other players, including New Siwaj and Cheewin Thanamin, had produced quite the number of dramas under each of their respective studio outfits. The industry, by 2020 and 2021, when KP was in its development origins, wasn't new anymore. Acting coaches, such as Aof Noppharnach, were now also regularly writing, directing, and producing original shows, and major BL studios had introduced workshopping as a regular step to production. On the artistic end, studios and writers had established expected artistic tropes -- 2018's Love By Chance is the first example that comes to my mind of when the Thai BL genre crystallized in a structurally derivative piece of art by way of containing and using prior trope references and dynamics.

Be On Cloud, in picking up the KinnPorsche script from Filmania during the pandemic (I use these posts here and here for my non-primary sources of KP lore) clearly knew it had something innovative on its hands by way of producing the genre's first mafia-based BL romance.

But 2020's Manner of Death had already introduced crime and mystery to BL, and 2021's Not Me continued a multi-genre perspective somewhat successfully around romance. And regarding sex and heat: KinnPorsche didn't do that first, either. MaxTul brought it first in 2017's Together With Me, and MAME has owned this corner since 2018's Love By Chance and 2019's TharnType. (Props to MaxTul for being in both Together With Me and Manner of Death; MileApo owe those dudes some beers.) By way of cinematography, which KP does extremely well: we had already begun seeing prestige cinematography in 2020's I Told Sunset About You, and 2021's I Promised You The Moon and A Tale of Thousand Stars.

It was natural, I think, for much of the KP fandom to think that KP was innovative in a lot of these categories, because, like me -- KP was our first-ever Thai BL. By way of money clearly spent on the show, the directorial purview of the show, the utterly gorgeous cinematography (man, that nighttime pull-away shot when the guys are in the roof pool, oof, why couldn't I find a gif), a new fan might think, geez, this has never been done before! But it had, and not just in Thailand, but for years prior in Japan, and more recently in Korea.

This is ALL not to say that KinnPorsche “suffered” because of what I'm uncovering by way of KP's misunderstood innovation. I think a perception of KP being entirely “new” in the BL field has contributed to its lore and enduring influential status. On this rewatch, I appreciated the mafia-based storyline as a support system to the central KinnPorsche romance. Yok being centered as an important mentor to Porsche, played by the inimitable Sprite Patteerat, was refreshing to see. Porsche accepting his bisexuality, especially with Yok's support, without the typical BL head-spinning queer revelation, was a welcome element to the show. And, frankly -- I had, on my first watch, missed, of course, the clear references to Thai BLs of the past in this show, references that I really loved seeing this time around.

From the old school, we got Kob Songsit, the OG BL dad, no longer Tong's dad in the seminal movie, The Love of Siam, nor Dean's dad in Until We Meet Again. This BL veteran is now a damn dad don, weapons and all.

We've also got Na Naphat, who played important side characters in IPYTM and UWMA. We have former BL lead guys in Jeff Satur and Perth Nakhun. We've got guitars and singing, we have underwater smooching, we have a cute-cute first date. We arguably have questionable kabedon in Kinn's and Porsche's first intimate moments. We have cooking for your lover, we have feeding your lover, we have the towel-drying of the hair. KP, by 2022, keeps up with Idol Factory's Secret Crush On You in prominently featuring a femme-presenting side character in Tankhun, PHENOMENALLY ACTED by Tong Thanayut, who we had seen previously in TharnType.

KP was, in part, directed by Pepzi Banchorn, who served as an assistant director on 2019's Dark Blue Kiss and 2021-22's Bad Buddy, and had a quick guest spot in 2022's The Warp Effect. KP was also, in part, directed by Khom Kongkiat, who played Uncle Tong in Bad Buddy, and subsequently directed The Promise in 2023. AND, finally, one of the KP screenwriters is Bee Pongsate, who has co-written so much flippin' BL: Last Twilight, Bad Buddy, Dangerous Romance (😬), Vice Versa, My School President, A Tale of Thousand Stars, 2gether and Still 2gether, and that's not even scratching the list -- you get it.

KP's supporting cast and crew was simply stacked with BL vets, who clearly knew the scene, and who helped to support Mile Phakphum's rookie acting and Apo Nattawin's return to the screen. I'd posit that this group of people knew EXACTLY what references they were putting into KinnPorsche, from actors to tropes, and also knew when, where, and how to innovate around those references to still make this show unique.

Certainly, KP's approach to sex and heat -- by way of Kinn's and Porsche's first drunken encounters (hi again, MaxTul), the uncut intimate scenes between them, and Vegas's and Pete's union by way of, well, semi-torture and/or kink -- was bold enough to be overall quite notable. But again: Thai BLs had been pushing that envelope for years past, and it has continued to do so in shows like MAME's Love In the Air and GMMTV's Only Friends.

In other words: after this rewatch, with the history of the older Thai BLs I've watched under my belt, I don't see KinnPorsche as firstly innovative. But I appreciate the show differently now, in particular for how very obvious it worked to include past Thai BL references in its production, and I actually gained a different appreciation for it.

I also want to made a quick tangential note about Apo and Tong specifically by way of innovation. Dr. Thomas Baudinette, a long-time BL fan and academic researcher on Thai and Japanese queer media, notes in his book, Boys Love Media in Thailand, that an ideal trajectory for a Thai BL actor is to debut in BLs in order to transition to more popular primetime het Thai dramas, as Gulf Kanuwat of TharnType, and Ohm Thitiwat and Kao Noppakao of UWMA and Lovely Writer, respectively, are notably doing at the moment. Apo Nattawin did this the other way around: he had established his career in het lakorns, most notably in 2015’s major hit drama, Sut Khaen Saen Rak, and subsequently left the Thai drama industry after reportedly being discriminated against for his skin tone and fashion choices. And his way back to the industry was through BLs. Taking the lore of Mile Phakphum recruiting Apo for KP out of the picture for a moment: I think this indicates a shift in how BLs are increasingly perceived in Thailand, and even globally, as being a career-worthy genre of content on its own for actors. (Apo's exploding fashion career is proof of this.) And BOC has now recruited another lakorn vet in Jes Jespipat for its third upcoming drama, 4 Minutes.

As well, Tong Thanayut’s very public coming out after the conclusion of KP’s airing is notable for how Be On Cloud has continued to center Tong in its productions after that fact, most notably in 2023’s film, Man Suang, while other out BL actors are not as lucky by way of guaranteeing and attracting future work.

I have a lot more to say about KinnPorsche's and Be On Cloud's impact on the current Thai BL industry, and how I think that impact has affected the marketing and creation of more recent shows like 2023's Only Friends, and 2023-24's Playboyy. But this first post has gotten long, and I actually haven't written much about the actual show itself, HA. So let me say this:

I think it's notable that the first shows that played around with themes outside of romance, like 2020's Manner of Death, and 2021's Not Me, were not perfect shows. We see now how multi-genre BLs are just exploding, what with Dead Friend Forever and the upcoming slew of vampire BLs that are going to drop (and let's not forget the first omegaverse BL drama in Pit Babe -- or should we forget it, I dunno). Not all of these shows are perfect, but the genre has only been around for a decade. There's a lot of time, and a tremendous amount of interest and funding, that upcoming shows can leverage to become better, especially these multi-genre shows that we're seeing more of.

KinnPorsche as well, was not a perfect show. I have some thoughts particularly on VegasPete to offer tomorrow, and I think, overall, that KP could have easily been a shorter series with more impact.

But I'll still give the show some of its flowers, because I think, unlike MoD and Not Me, that KinnPorsche did a better job of centering the Kinn and Porsche romance for dramatic effect, particularly by leveraging comedy. Were there many moments of hibbly-jibblies? Oh, totally. Dudes, also, Kinn fucking forgot about Pete! Pete coming back to the house and reminiscing about Vegas while holding his neck? Eeeeyikes, no thanx. There were a number of these weird bumps that I think could be explained by way of intentional camp (which I think KP did pretty well), but I do believe the show could have been tighter with more editing.

But, I gotta admit: I had a great time re-watching KP. That says something. Was it the heat that tiddled my dopamine cycles? Probably, somewhat. (No shame in my game.) Or -- a more reasonable theory, ha, is that Apo, as a veteran actor, demonstrated more range than I originally remembered. He can really do comedy well, and he timed his comedy perfectly for the absurdities that peppered KP through the series (the bread crawl, the constant throwing of hands, the jumping-on-Kinn when the ghost of Pete showed up, oh shit we're in the forest now, etc). Apo and Tong, in particular, stayed true to the bit many times during the show, and I think the series benefitted greatly from their collective comedic talent and timing -- which I thought was nicely refreshing for the genre.

With that, I'll have more ruminating tomorrow about the show itself, about how I think the impact that KP and BOC have had on the genre after KP's airing, and other thoughts about the cultural moment that KP demarcated when it aired -- see you tomorrow!

[MORE MORE MORE KP tomorrow! And I'll have more thoughts about the watchlist then. But for now, here's the classic OGMMTVC list for you to chew on!

1) The Love of Siam (2007) (movie) (review here) 2) My Bromance (2014) (movie) (review here) 3) Love Sick and Love Sick 2 (2014 and 2015) (review here) 4) Gay OK Bangkok Season 1 (2016) (a non-BL queer series directed by Jojo Tichakorn and written by Aof Noppharnach) (review here) 5) Make It Right (2016) (review here) 6) SOTUS (2016-2017) (review here) 7) Gay OK Bangkok Season 2 (2017) (a non-BL queer series directed by Jojo Tichakorn and written by Aof Noppharnach) (review here) 8) Make It Right 2 (2017) (review here) 9) Together With Me (2017) (review here) 10) SOTUS S/Our Skyy x SOTUS (2017-2018) (review here) 11) Love By Chance (2018) (review here) 12) Kiss Me Again: PeteKao cuts (2018) (no review) 13) He’s Coming To Me (2019) (review here) 14) Dark Blue Kiss (2019) and Our Skyy x Kiss Me Again (2018) (review here) 15) TharnType (2019-2020) (review here) 16) Senior Secret Love: Puppy Honey (OffGun BL cuts) (2016 and 2017) (no review) 17) Theory of Love (2019) (review here) 18) 3 Will Be Free (2019) (a non-BL and an important harbinger of things to come in 2019 and beyond re: Jojo Tichakorn pushing queer content in non-BLs) (review here) 19) Dew the Movie (2019) (review here) 20) Until We Meet Again (2019-2020) (review here) (and notes on my UWMA rewatch here) 21) 2gether (2020) and Still 2gether (2020) (review here) 22) I Told Sunset About You (2020) (review here) 23) YYY (2020, out of chronological order) (review here) 24) Manner of Death (2020-2021) (review here) 25) A Tale of Thousand Stars (2021) (review here) 26) A Tale of Thousand Stars (2021) OGMMTVC Fastest Rewatch Known To Humankind For The Sake Of Rewatching Our Skyy 2 x BBS x ATOTS (re-review here) 27) Lovely Writer (2021) (review here) 28) Last Twilight in Phuket (2021) (the mini-special before IPYTM) (review here) 29) I Promised You the Moon (2021) (review here) 30) Not Me (2021-2022) (review here) 31) Bad Buddy (2021-2022) (thesis here) 32) 55:15 Never Too Late (2021-2022) (not a BL, but a GMMTV drama that features a macro BL storyline about shipper culture and the BL industry) (review here) 33) Bad Buddy (2021-2022) and Our Skyy 2 x BBS x ATOTS (2023) OGMMTVC Rewatch (Links to the BBS OGMMTVC Meta Series are here: preamble here, part 1, part 2, part 3a, part 3b, and part 4) 34) Secret Crush On You (2022) (review here) 35) KinnPorsche (2022) (tag here)  36) KinnPorsche (2022) OGMMTVC Fastest Rewatch Known To Humankind For the Sake of Re-Analyzing the KP Cultural Zeitgeist

...interrupting the OGMMTVC list here to watch War of Y (2022) (watching) in chronology to decide if it gets listed...

37) The Eclipse (2022) (tag here) 38) The Eclipse OGMMTVC Rewatch to Reexamine “Genre BLs” and Internalized/Externalized Homophobia in GMMTV Shows  39) GAP (2022-2023) (Thailand’s first GL) 40) My School President (2022-2023) and Our Skyy 2 x My School President (2023) 41) Moonlight Chicken (2023) (tag here) 42) Bed Friend (2023) (tag here) 43 La Pluie (2023) (review coming) 44) Be My Favorite (2023) (tag here) (I’m including this for BMF’s sophisticated commentary on Krist’s career past as a BL icon) 45) Wedding Plan (2023) (Recommended as an important trajectory in the course of MAME’s work and influence from TharnType) 46) Only Friends (2023) (tag here) (not technically a BL, but it certainly became one in the end) 47) Last Twilight (2023-24) (tag here) (on the list as Thailand’s first major BL to center disability, successfully or otherwise) 48) Cherry Magic Thailand (2023-24) (tag here) (on the list as the first major Japanese-to-Thai drama adaptation, featuring the comeback of TayNew) 49) Ossan’s Love Returns (2024) (adding for the EarthMix cameo and the eventual Thai remake) 50) Dead Friend Forever (2024) (thoughts here) 51) 23.5 (tag here) (2024)]

[friendlylocalwhumper]

“Yes.” | “Kneel.” | Best of Three | Correspondence | Appraisal | Collapse | Cupcake | Foggy | Cracking | Just Breathe | Urge | Trim | Stupid | Upkeep | Old Defeat | Watching | Simple Loyalty | Overreaction | Set Up for Failure | Burning | Healed Wrong | Haunted | Boxes Buried | Heavy Blow | Loneliness

Cupcake hasn’t been sleeping well lately. With anyone else, Simon would assume it was the whole being a prisoner thing. But this one is tough. He doesn’t seem to think he deserves better, even if his pride gets in the way sometimes. There are no longing glances toward the windows, no getting lost in daydreams. Cupcake just wants a beer, some TV, a place to sprawl and relax.

Last night Cupcake dozed off on the couch for a few minutes. Simon watched as bushy brows twisted, as the scarred chest hitched under the wifebeater, as rugged fingers twitched at his sides. He woke too soon and reached instantly for his bullet-riddled right leg.

The pain is keeping him up. Simon almost feels bad about that, although they’ve gotten to have less sessions, this week, with the little thrills he’s getting seeing that pain all day long.

He’s asleep now, though. Cupcake is on his back, on the floor instead of his bed - which is strange, although he probably gave up on the blankets and tried the carpet, instead, in his pained tossing and turning. Leaning in the doorway, Simon feels his attention slide off the man that he’s watching, straying to thoughts of groans and muffled screams. Maybe if Cupcake eats well enough at breakfast, he can suggest they have a session. Could be fun. The itch is there under his skin.

Into the room he pads softly. His pajama pants brush softly against his ankles, long hair warm and comforting across his shoulders. It’s a peaceful night with the cool air after last night’s rain and the crickets chirping outside. As Simon draws near, he can make out the very faint freckles across Cupcake’s cheeks. His short brown curls that make him look so much younger than the previous bleached mess. Twenty-seven, his file says. But Cupcake cannot read, can barely add numbers in his head, struggles to come up with words that are more than two syllables long.

Violent, antisocial, sadistic, restless, said the file. Cupcake’s never shown his violent side, here. Head tipping to the side to ponder as he watches the man sleep, Simon wonders if Cupcake is really violent by nature, or if he lashes out when provoked, like a malnourished dog in the back corner of a shelter. Antisocial makes sense, with Cupcake barely bothering to talk about the outside world and taking so long to try to get out. Must not have family. Sadistic - Simon can’t speak to that. There’s rage in his eyes, sometimes, but that’s normal for his position. There is no one here for him to hurt but himself.

Restless is the most fitting of all his descriptors. Simon finds himself reaching out, despite wanting Cupcake to stay asleep. There are dark smears of exhaustion under those closed eyes. He’s been healing slowly, he needs this. But traitorous fingers creep forward through the air until they find a stray lock of that soft brown hair. Why does Cupcake hate it so much? Enough to fry it into straw, and change its color, and grow it out in a frizzy mane. It feels reminiscent of how Cupcake ignores mirrors like they aren’t reflective at all, they’re just a normal stretch of dull wall.

His rumination wandered, and his fingers laid too heavily against Cupcake’s scalp. The soft bed of hair disappears suddenly, and the body that was so still and relaxed a second ago is moving sharply. Simon barely has time to widen his eyes before Cupcake jolts and slams bodily into him, sending them both tumbling across the floor.

A flurry of brown hair, round eyes, fists. Animalistic grunts punch their way out of Cupcake as he tries to beat Simon away from him. He can punch, Simon finds, winded into silence by the second blow and then struggling to escape a single hit. It’s like a brick is being driven into his ribs, his head, his upper arms.

Above him, straddling him chaotically, Cupcake bares his teeth and looks like a child trying to beat back a demon. Simon finds himself trying to contain the violent swinging arms rather than truly fight back. The panicked growls and grunts get louder as Simon manages to roll over and get Major onto his back, locking him in a bear hug.

“Nngh, nnh, nnh,” Cupcake grunts, breaths hissing out through locked teeth. He is shaking, vibrating under Simon, who is focused on setting his knees against the floor and tightening his arms to effectively snuff out the fight. “No, no, nnh…”

As close as they are, Simon can hear the tears clogging up Cupcake’s throat and suffocating the pleas out of the air. As soon as his hold is secure enough, Simon lifts his head.

Mistake. A collision with his head, pain blooming hot in his nose. Violent, antisocial, sadistic, restless. One of Simon’s arms unwind from around Cupcake’s back and twist fingers in his hair to pull his head up and slam it back down.

It didn’t feel forceful enough to knock him out, but Cupcake goes still with a shudder. Simon pulls back farther to urgently look into his face, hand sliding down from the short curls to tug on Cupcake’s face and check his eyes. But Cupcake is still awake. He tries to squeeze his eyes shut, and turn his head away, and only croaks out a soft sound of defeat when his head is yanked back and his eyelids pulled open, one at a time.

Simon’s not even sure if a concussion would appear as oddly sized pupils so soon, but they look fine for now. So he pulls back, planting firm palms on Cupcake’s shoulders to help him remember to stay down.

It seems to be dawning on the pinned man that he just fought back. That he beat Simon into the ground, if only for a minute. As soon as he can, he closes his eyes again, breathing hard through flared nostrils.

“What was that?” Asks Simon, voice soft. The blood dripping from his nose and onto Major’s bare chest doesn’t register to either of them as a pressing issue. “What was that, Cupcake?”

Cupcake is afraid. He’s always quieter, when he is. His angry is loud and energetic, his excited is stunned and hesitant. His afraid is very still, breathing hard, trying to process things and largely failing to. The rusted cogs in his head only turn so fast. Cupcake doesn’t know what to do now that he lashed out, doesn’t know what comes next.

“I won’t punish you,” Offers Simon, leaning down harder to show that he can keep the man pinned. “If you talk.”

Cupcake sniffs, and grimaces at how snotty the sound is. He never looks more silently furious than when he sounds pathetic. “Talk?”

Simon runs a thumb back and forth near Cupcake’s collarbone. He either doesn’t notice it, or doesn’t want to be caught showing he hates it. The silence that comes in the stead of an explanation from Simon doesn’t help.

“‘bout the…” Cupcake clears his throat. Opens his eyes, which instantly skitter away from Simon’s kind, curious face. “...Freak out, when I wake up, and… and there’s someone on me. Okay?” He lashed out. He could be killed for this. He knows it, it’s got his chest still lurching with shallow gasps. “‘m sorry. Didn’t know it was you.”

With a sympathetic nod, Simon adjusts his weight to be more on Cupcake’s hips and less on his stomach, to make breathing easier for him. “Who did you think I was?”

Silence. The pain of his shot let has him twitching, trying to change his position without it looking like he’s trying to throw Simon off. No answer.

“We’ve been doing this for a while, Cupcake.” Simon lifts a hand from a pinned shoulder to take hold of his jaw and force eye contact. Cupcake looks angry, but maybe not at the man above him. Or not just at him. “I let you get away with things. Have things your way. It’s better for both of us, to not be too strict.”

The reminder of his place is working, already, without the threat being spoken. Simon can see it in how Cupcake’s breaths miss a beat, how he holds still and waits for the promise of things getting worse.

“Would it be easier for you if I held the gun to your head?”

“...Don’t.” It is quiet, almost a whisper. “Make me. Too fhh-... dumb as, too - stupid. To make something up. I just… don’t make me talk.”

There is something in the vulnerability, there. Something more than pain in his voice. Simon is curious, so curious. But should he really devote energy to punishing the guy having a nightmare, or a trauma response, or whatever that was? Should he tear Cupcake open and expose his fears to the air, just because he wants to know? Maybe Cupcake has earned some grace.

“Okay.” Hand sliding off of Cupcake’s jaw, he draws back and stands. Cupcake slowly, achingly drags himself toward the bed. Climbs up onto it, eyes on the floor the whole way. He needs space, needs to be left alone. “Sure thing, Cupcake. Try to sleep.”

Cupcake is silent until Simon is all the way out the door. In the dark of the room, he mutters, just barely audible, “...Thanks.”

taglist: @morning-star-whump , @lthrboy, @apokolyps, @paperprinxe , @vampiresprite, @wollemi-whump,

@watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees , @whumps-and-bumps , @defire, @notactuallyluska

[lackadaisy-headcanon-supply-unit]

Hello!

I would like to request a Rocky x reader (romantic) oneshot. A fluffy one with a bit of spice would be nice ;) I don't really have a specific plot in mind, but maybe something on the topic of affection? Whatever the story, i'm sure it will be amazing ❤

Thank u, and have a nice day/night!

Hello, Anon!! Thank you for dropping by!! Your request just so happened to align with an idea I've had, and... I got a bit carried away, I suppose. This is well over three thousand words.

Hope you'll find as much entertainment in reading as I did in writing, anyhow!! (I missed crafting dialogue for this silly cat, even if it's equal parts shameless purple prose fun and an absolute pain in the neck.)

“Absolutely not.”

The pose of cheerful enthusiasm he presented the idea with didn’t falter, although his grin seemed to by a sliver.

“Aww, why?”

“It’s not gonna work.”

“We can’t know that until we try!”

You’d come down before opening hour, when many of the lights framing the red-curtained stage and finely carved pillars hadn’t been ignited yet in order to lessen electricity bills, leaving the grandiose speakeasy hall to ruminate in a mellow, warm late afternoon dusk. Leaning against one of the pool tables webbed with gilded patterns on the sides, you glanced him up and down in half-lidded skepticism. It was brief, yet defeating.

“I say this with all the love in my heart,” you prefaced the ruthless confession with a teasing smile, “but you don’t look like you could lift a cornstalk.”

“And you have a point! But consider this,” he countered, gesturing passionately with his hands as if materializing a vision of success before the both of you, and that’s when you recognized this conversation was about to shimmy beyond the bounds of reality. “What wonders can be achieved through the power of love? It can avail you to weather a sea of infernal blazes, crumble ancient mounts to their innermost cores, compel the course of celestial bodies–”

“But it can’t give you muscles.”

The conjurations of poetic fancies promptly shattered, and he gave you a disheartened look.

“Oh, come on, dearest,” he pleaded, all gleaming blue eyes and droopy ears. “Have you no faith in your one and only chevalier?”

“Concerning any other situation… a hard maybe. Depends if anything flammable’s involved.”

You put a finger to your chin in lighthearted contemplation.

“But this… well, I trust you in pulling this off without either of us getting hurt about as far as I could throw you with one hand.”

“I don’t weigh much,” he perked up assuringly. “You could toss me a good few feet, I reckon.”

“So then we should try this the other way around.”

A glint of curiosity hinted he may not have been entirely opposed. Nonetheless, you could tell he wouldn’t let himself be so easily shot down in his steadfast ambitions, about which you happened to be right.

“Your suggestions are appreciated,” he placated upon your prompt sigh of disappointment, “but in the name of chivalry I must persist with my vision. Because I am certain that there is a way, as there is a will, to achieve it.”

He pondered aloud whilst leant against the pool table opposite to yours, tail swishing figure eights in the air as if stirring up the brainworks.

“Just let me think about it…”

A bit to the left, two of the local employment were spectating from their usual spots by the bar. Zib, who had draped himself half-across the counter while Viktor was cleaning it around him, regarded the scene from under his hat with a caustic glance. The smoke simmering from the cigarette he was languidly tasting occasionally wafted your way.

“Looks like chivalry’s not dead yet after all,” he grumbled, the corners of his lips teasing amusement, “but he’s about to be.”

The burly slovak continued with his somewhat menial task in dutiful disinterest, intimidating all unsightly dirt spots off the wooden surface with an effortless glare.

“Idiot vill break own spine vid effort,” he stated matter-of-factly, then after a thoughtful pause, shrugged. “Saves me the trouble.”

“Oh, such searing pessimism!”

Rocky turned to theatrically retort, rejoining your circles from the far reaches of whatever realms his mind had been venturing.

“Well I regret to inform you, gentlemen,” he gave an easygoing little smirk, “that the only sort of spectacle you’ll be getting today is the glorious display of romance’s incandescent triumph.”

“You should heed your sweetheart’s advice, kid,” Zib warned over his glassful of a somewhat suspicious golden beverage. “Artists like you and I just weren’t built for these kinds of strenuous feats. You’ll get a hernia and then the boss lady will be down one questionable bootlegger.”

“Pff… Nonsense talk!”

He waved off the notion as if swatting away a bug, and you pinched your brow in exasperation.

“Waste not such paltry concerns on me, my friend! You see, it might not leave that impression at first glance…” he flexed a bit to show off his bicep then stared at it with a blank expression once it failed to strengthen his argument, “nor perhaps second… but these spindly sinews are rife with untapped potential! Why, you think the Atlas of mythology had trained in advance to support the whole world on his shoulders? And yet, it still goes ‘round smoothly to this day. Which is to say that, hopefully helped by Fortuna’s favor, the release of a comparable innate strength shall aid me in this fated task of carrying mine.”

Despite his conspicuous lack of visible musculature he gave a grin of such radiant certainty it could’ve powered the rest of the lights. Zib blinked slowly, unimpressed in his fermentative, cigarette-stink skepticism. Viktor kept cleaning.

“Albeit I suppose there’s more point in a show rather than tell.”

Rocky stretched his arms in a somewhat comically overstated manner.

“So the old-fashionated way it is!” He then took up a stance and spread them in anticipation. “Come hither, my darling love, let’s prove those naysayers wrong! Leap into the arms of your favorite bard!”

“I still don’t condone this idea.”

You crossed your arms, resolution as hard as the wood digging into your lower back. Unstoppable force smiling baffledly at the inmovable object.

“You don’t?”

“Not really.”

He pouted. Oh, how you couldn’t stand it when those gorgeous sapphires looked at you so coyly despondent. And of course, he was aware.

“You mean you won’t even give it a chance?” he implored, tail gingerly lowering. “Not even if I’ll sooner have my organs be crushed into a fine sludge than let one hair on your head bend the wrong way?”

“Especially not then.”

Patiently, you stood, the twitch of your ears and your own tail’s gentle whipping behind your legs and brushing up to the smooth block of wood being your only movement. You watched him deflate in a slowly progressing manner not unlike that of a balloon animal leaking from a small opening; you could even imagine the characteristic sound to go with.

You tried not to laugh.

“Not even if,” he attempted once more, “it could be a most passionful pageantry of courteousness?”

“More like foolishness.”

Irritated by his snark for a change, you tilted your head in Zib’s direction. When he earned both of your attention by extension the resident nicotine eater, chin resting on the heel of his palm, flicked a huge ear and leisurely presented his back to you as though he’d never cared.

“Just picture it for a second!” Rocky suggested, snapping back to the conversation and taking your hand in his to help transmit the mental imagery through skin-to-skin contact. “A most consummate culmination of chivalrous custom!”

“Certainly,” you rolled your eyes yet didn’t resist when he snuck up close to grab a hold of your waist with an almost imperceptible delicacy.

“I’d gather you in my arms,” he narrated, “a most beauteous royal rose, pooling in your eyes the glimmers of a star-speckled galaxy, a divine black ether brimming with a variegated, dazzling cavalcade of celestial hues… oh, what fair nobility of ephemeral grace, molded in the realms above from the finest marble and ambrosia by lilium-scented, angelic hands…”

His face was close to yours, and your gazes intertwined; you could be quite sure he was just describing what he saw. You averted your eyes, slightly flustered.

“You sure know your words,” you nipped without any real teeth to it.

“I try,” he acknowledged cheerfully, nonetheless keeping proximate. “And me, no more than a humbled troubadour, a mere mortal permitted by Providence to embrace salvation itself,” you made an inarticulate noise of incredulity, “gentle tethering of your mass serving to remind that this resplendent scene is no meager illusion, a cruel trick of the light, but bona fide reality…”

You squirmed half-heartedly away in your chagrin, yet each bit of distance you created between the two of you he kept closing just as effortlessly, drinking in your expressions.

“In rapt entrancement we’d behold each other’s countenance,” you could feel his words on your whiskers, “honey-glaze lusters dancing across our lips in nectareal beckoning, your arms entangling my nape with fervor as you pull me under to merge our souls by way of osculation in the heart of the Earth–”

“Enough rhapsodizing,” you entreated with a wide, mildly embarrassed smile you couldn’t fight, “you poetaster.”

“Now, don’t tell me you wouldn’t enjoy that.”

You exhaled in a burst, gripping the wooden brim you were leant on. Tail curling and uncurling in thought.

“It sounds fine,” you emphatically minced, “but I don’t require it. You know you can just talk sweet to me like that or give me a kiss when I’m still on my feet and you’ll just as easily sweep me off them.”

“But there’s no harm in experimenting, right?”

“That’s… a very dubious statement.”

“Well, if it does work, it shall surely be memorable.”

Across the way, over ornate red carpet and leather seats, Viktor had since taken to polishing glasses while Zib ever-industriously continued to metabolize the establishment’s embalming fluid reserves in spite of the hour.

“…And if it doesn’t,” Rocky proposed the possibility with great hesitation, “as far as I can recall, bone fractures actually heal a lot quicker than you’d expect.”

With the band backstage, that’d be only two direct witnesses to your loss of dignity.

“You’re not about to let this go until I oblige,” you observed with a heavy heart and patted his arm, “so go ahead. I’ll give you a chance to enter history records as the world’s first cooked pasta-based organism to princess carry a whole person.”

You adjusted yourself in front of him at a roughly ninety-degree angle and put your arm around his shoulders. Enthusiasm flawlessly rekindled he took swift hold of your back in return, biting his lip in anticipation like a giddy kid.

“But if you sprain a muscle, I’m not bringing you the ice,” you stated firmly to his face.

“You can’t sprain what’s scarcely there,” he beamed back like it was of any reassurance.

“Well, alright.”

That obnoxious smoke hit your nose again. Beneath the golden glow of red lampshades, Zib had unexpectedly honored your ambitions by sitting marginally more erect, pushing up the brim of his hat to ensure his sight wasn’t failing him.

“Wouldn’t you look at that,” he grunted, pointy eyebrows raised. “They’re doing it for real.”

Viktor stopped in his surprisingly gentle handiwork and fixed a sharp, singular eye on the pair of you. When your clumsy preparations and nervous fidgeting painted a confirmatory enough picture, he set the glass and rag down with a thud, leisurely slapping two huge paws on the clean oak counter to lean on it.

“Dis vill be amusing.”

You gulped at the audience, blooming in your chest a severe doubt. You squeezed Rocky’s shoulder and felt the pointed conjunction of bones digging into your palm without any real effort.

“Whenever you’re ready…”

He smiled at you with those sweet blue eyes that drew your attention like a magnet, adamant on dissolving your worries within themselves. It almost convinced you that what you were about to do wasn’t both ridiculously asinine and physically unsafe… albeit still rather mild by the standards of dating Rocky Rickaby.

You looked at one of the curling, wrought iron chandeliers and sucked in a resolute breath.

“…Here goes nothing.”

In clenched-fist concentration, you jumped and threw your legs in the air for him to catch. He grabbed after them in wide-eyed startlement and as the momentum flung you at him, you prayed.

There was a grunting noise. Something in-between the squeak of a strangled rubber chicken and the aghast chuff of a scuffed, abused bagpipe as every last square inch of air is violently crushed out of it; you’d heard naught of such a combination before yet were instantly able to identify it. Arms clasped tight around his neck you hung on for dear life whilst he gripped your side and thighs in a no less firm desperation, fingers unintendedly clawing into tense flesh. He stood taut as a bowstring, you could feel as much beneath the clothes, though unfortunately nowhere near as straight and with every slight tremble and corrective squirm you feared yourselves tipping over in his direction and giving the carpeted limestone a sore greeting.

Time collapsed to a halt under the weight of anticipation. Cautious in your breaths, wide-eyed and blatantly uncomforted by his palpable quaking, you watched as his rigid expression of concentration strained on a half-hearted grin for your sake to mask what very much still was mortal terror hatching from amongst the shards of hubris.

And then… nothing.

You blinked a few times. Other than your own heartbeat, and what amounted to the whimpers of a heavy wooden chair being dragged across the floor that you soon confirmed to be coming from him instead, all sounds of impending doom receded. You took a deep inhale of the stagnant cave air and held it in bewilderment, knees squished close to one another.

Well, you’d be damned.

Flush to his torso and clutching the cheap fabric of his shirt, you stared on, trying to comprehend the situation. As was he, evidently, with how amidst his tight-lipped yet valiant bearing of the ramifications his eyes darted around the room as if disaster was running unusually late. No gears turn at such a pace however, for when at last the ice in your tendons began to melt in contemplation of asking whether he could move enough to put you down safely or if you should just jump for it, he exerted a small huff of accomplishment and it changed something, because you began to dip rapidly forward. Some indiscernible profanity escaped your mouth.

At least he gallantly broke your fall… and a rib as well, by the sound of it.

The ground was about as soft as you’d imagined when it kissed your limbs and left you with your hands splayed on velvety carpet. You caught glimpse of your audience and, lo and behold, Viktor for a brief second appeared to possess something of a smile behind the bar. Of schadenfreude, naturally. Nonetheless the witnessing of such an evanescent miracle left you nothing short of humbled.

“Well, that surprised nobody,” Zib sneered, a whiff of smoke leaving his nostrils. “We’ll hold him a tasteful funeral.”

“He’s not dead,” you indignantly countered, blowing tousled locks of hair out of your face, then turned to your knight in shoddy armor just to be sure. “You’re not dead, right?”

With that, you recognized that the reason your posterior ached less than the rest of you was his organs still being smushed under it, so you hastily clambered off. Sweetly enough, he hadn’t mentioned, though it may have just been that he’d yet to recover from getting the wind knocked out of him enough to form a sentence.

“Never felt more alive,” he wheezed in affirmation, clutching his torso. “I’ve come to sense fibers of my physique I didn’t know existed.”

“No wonder. Did you dislocate something?”

Crouched over your boyfriend on all fours, you scrutinized him whilst your tail lashed back and forth in acute concern regarding his lack of attempts to get up despite having him practically caged under you. Considering his talent for looking pathetic while curled up on the floor, you couldn’t be blamed.

“Well, all of my bones are still inside,” he tilted his head without raising it to look over himself. “That’s their designated place, I believe.”

“You’re such a twit.”

Bright blue eyes flicked up at you innocently, arms clasped together in a protective self-embrace. Your features softened with a sigh.

“I heard a crack,” you explained, gaze lingering over his ribcage. “I thought I’d hurt you.”

“Oh, that was just my pride,” he dismissed jovially. “Nothing worth the bewailment. Poor thing wasn’t about to survive the winter anyhow.”

That restless, puffy tail of yours came to a tentative pause upon his knees, drawn only halfway up to accomodate your presence as he squirmed lightly in his restricted position. Though the barely lit murk of underground, his grin still shined as disarming as any other.

“You couldn’t hurt me if you tried.”

Whether he meant that remark as a pacification or a challenge, you preferred not to dispute. You let go of the tension in your shoulders however, easing off to settle down next to him and allow him some space to do the same.

“Well, this was just stupid,” you concluded, listlessly examining your bruised appendages. “I have no idea what drove you to something so pointless.”

He carefully rolled up off the ground then simply sat there, blinking at you in a way that betrayed neither any particular discomfort nor the absence of it. You observed him in ponderance. Due to the lack of any concrete signals from upstairs you decided you’d just have to assume the best.

“Unless,” you teased with a squint of suspicion, minding your volume, “you just wanted me on top of you that bad.”

Now that definitely reached the headquarters. When it did, he responded with one of those downright sinful grins that made the notion of punching him in the face sound vastly appealing.

“It wasn’t according to my plan, per se,” he gestured in a sly manner, “but it’s certainly not a development you’ll catch me complaining about.”

“You cad.”

You regarded him with a scolding glare you didn’t really mean but perhaps should’ve. He stood or, well, sat his ground, and it didn’t take a medium to guess anymore what newfound visions might’ve been stirring on behind that striped forehead of his; you only hoped he wouldn’t start waxing poetics about it.

“Could’ve just asked me nicely,” you murmured with a smirk.

You noted the proximity all of a sudden; his nose couldn’t have been two inches away from touching yours. He peered down at you in awareness, chuckling.

“Ah, but the overture's half the merriment.”

“This place has marvelous acoustics, by the way,” Zib spoke out of nowhere and made every bone in your body flinch, “so you might wanna consider taking this somewhere else before our sparse patronage arrives–”

“Oh, shut it, Zibowsky.”

You snapped at him, ears pinned, feeling rather deserving of some soap in your mouth. Rocky got over the interruption with a more careless ease and disregarded the air of awkwardness he helped create in favor of lighting up in triumph.

“But our labour for love wasn’t in vain, after all!” he exclaimed over your shoulder. “We all saw it, right? My romantically inspired exhibition of unprecedented prowress? I must’ve held on for a good minute there!”

“How long did it last, by the way?” you inquired, watching as Viktor continued cleaning glasses. “I was too busy panicking to count.”

“Two seconds.”

Your face stretched in astonishment. Zib took out a lighter.

“You’re pulling my leg.”

“No, really,” he reiterated, igniting another cigarette with a series of clicks while the previous butt laid crumpled beside him on the counter, “two seconds. I was just about to congratulate you.”

You stared on at the sprawling carpet, befuddled, yet the intricate patterns held no explanation for this anomaly. Time does simply happen to slow to a crawl when you’re fearing for your life, as it turned out. Rocky slumped in dejection.

“Ah well,” he lamented, bushy brows descending. “It would appear that my hopes to beguile you with a debonair display could not come true after all.”

His tail gingerly curled around him, saddened to an equal degree. You pouted along in playful endearment.

“You’re so silly,” you ascertained. “I don’t mind that you’re a weakling.”

You took his hand balled up on the ground, enveloping it with your own. He watched in slight trepidation.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

The two of you locked eyes amidst the magnificent cavern of bygone extravagance; the ‘heart of the Earth’, as he’d put it. Decked in hues of crimson and gold and marinating in a mystiqueful twilight, a regrettably vacant wonder of architectural design honoring the arts décoratifs, all the dazzling sights of the establishment couldn't have hoped to draw you away from the one instrictic extension of it you delighted in looking at the most.

“And I wouldn’t trade you in for the brawniest of gallants,” you pressed a tingling kiss on his cheek, “my noodle-limbed prince.”

[ranmagender]

a good point of reference for the "cliffhanger" in murder drones is like the cat disappearing in coraline. It has huge implications about the future of the world and in fact makes us wonder if its such a happy ending after all but thats left for the audience to speculate on. sure it could be delved deeper into but it just as easily could be something that is just best left for the audience to ruminate on.

the fate of bill cipher was vague to say the least at the end of gravity falls and has been expanded upon via the ARG and Book of Bill, but that doesnt mean that gravity falls needs another season.

Murder Drones may very well continue in some form, like appearances in Glitch Inn, SMG4 or maybe a comic or what have you but the show itself is over and the ending doesnt change that.

the ending is satisfying enough to please people but whoever wants to dive deeper and ponder is free to do so, it also does leave a thread to pull on in case they want to do like a graphic novel or some side thing. The story and arc of murder drones while being wonky can be seen as complete in that way.

[shxtodxroki]

𝚂𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚜

Summary: You’re cuddling with Jihyun, but he’s oddly quiet, as if he’s listening to something specific. And when you eventually ask why, you learn about your boyfriend’s biggest joy in life (aside from you, of course).

Flufftober Day 8 Prompt: Rainy Day

Warnings: Mentions/hints towards depression, mentions of V slowly losing his eyesight

Pairing: V ( Jihyun Kim) x Gender Neutral! Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Check out my full Flufftober masterlist here!

The room is silent, almost eerily so, as you sit beside your boyfriend with curious eyes and a mind full of wonder. You’re cozily cuddled up to his side, the fireplace running as you wrap both of your arms around one of his and press your cheek into his sweater. But for some reason, neither of you have said anything at all for the past ten minutes, your lover silently staring at the roof as if listening for something, or perhaps listening to something? You’re not particularly sure, but he seems more at peace than he hardly ever does, leaving you hesitant to disturb his clear serenity and risk wiping the soft, barely-there smile clean off his face.

Though you don’t wish to interrupt the silence of the room, you do slowly begin to sneak one of your hands down towards his palm, carefully linking your fingers with his. He lets you without a second thought, always open to your touch even when he’s not particularly paying attention, though your movements don’t seem to draw him out of his thoughts or his listening in the slightest as he remains quiet and stoic. Your cheek nuzzles against the fuzziness of his wool sweater in search of warmth despite the fire going at the other end of the room and the blanket currently being shared across your two bodies, as his warmth is like none other to you. A blanket and a fire can only warm your surface, but he’s able to get rid of the chill in your bones, able to make your soul feel light and airy to your core even with his own demons.

The fingers of your free hand slowly begin to dance up his sleeve, mindlessly playing with the soft fabric in your hands as your eyes turn up to his face. You could study him all day, you really could. He’s a living work of art, a being somehow painted perfectly, or photographed by an eye even more meticulous than his own. There’s not one feature of his that you don’t love, from his striking, vibrant hair to his soft, plush lips to his short, gentle fingernails that he lets you paint whenever you ask. He’s more precious than diamond or gold to your aching heart, and as he stares at nothing at all and finds himself lost in sounds unbeknownst to you, you find yourself thinking that he looks even more statuesque and gorgeous than usual as he sports one of his increasingly rare grins.

Though you’re desperate to hold his peace, to let him ruminate in this happiness that he’s so visibly experiencing for once, your curiosity eventually wins out as you ponder what could possibly be enrapturing him so much. Your hand gently squeezes his as you silently plead for his attention, gently snuggling into him once more as you look up at him and meet his gaze with soft, questioning eyes.

“What are you thinking about, love?” You ask quietly, careful to keep your voice low in hopes of preserving this moment’s serenity. “You seem really lost in something, but I can’t quite figure out what.”

Jihyun can’t help but let out a soft chuckle to your words, his free hand gently moving to trace along your knuckles as he responds. “....Can you hear that, angel?” He asks with a soft smile, and when you stop to listen, you can’t seem to hear much aside from a small, distant pitter-patter.

Tink. Tink. Tink. The sound barely echoes through the room, and for a second you think that can’t possibly be what your boyfriend’s referring to. You have no clue what it even is, how could it be significant enough for him to comment on?

But then, like a strike of lightning in your neurons, you realize that the sound is the soft patter of rain against your roof, your eyes glancing towards the window as you watch the droplets race down the glass panes and fill the sky with a grey smog. You had never known your lover to be particularly fascinated with the rain, but many people enjoyed the sights and sounds of fresh rainfall, though you were still curious if there was a deeper root as to why he seemed so utterly lost in the echoes of the downpour.

“The rain?” You ask for confirmation, your fingers squeezing his hand once more as he wordlessly nods in response. “I suppose I can, it’s pretty quiet though. I didn’t know you liked the rain so much….” You mutter, prompting him for further elaboration, if there was any to discuss in the first place.

He doesn’t answer right away, simply giving you another soft smile as he pulls you closer than before. He was being awfully generous today, showing off the beauty that is his smile more frequently than he had ever since you had met him, and the mere sight makes your heart swell to the brim. You suddenly find yourself incredibly thankful for the rain, your gratitude for the way it’s brightened your lover’s attitude pouring out of you and rivaling the steady downfall outside even if you can’t understand it. Until he finally explains it to you, the best he can, and gives you a window into his mind.

“Well… my eyesight is nearly gone now.” He starts with a sigh, though he doesn’t sound as melancholy as he typically does when the topic is brought up. That mention instantly piques your curiosity further, however, and you listen with rapt attention as he continues as the pads of your fingers mindlessly grip his sleeve. “So I can’t enjoy many of the things that used to calm me down before. The sight of flowers in a vibrant garden, the fireplace flaring up on a cold night, the thrill of getting to photograph a precious sight… honestly, I was starting to think I had nothing besides you that made me feel relaxed anymore.”

Of course you knew he had been suffering as the deterioration of his eyesight progressed. Anyone in his position would, and you had witnessed firsthand the simple pleasures of nature in his life slowly decreasing as his vision went more and more. But you hadn’t realized just how bad it had been mentally wounding him until this moment, and your heart aches for him as you patiently wait for him to continue at his own pace.

“But…. I can still enjoy the rain. Rain has never been about the sight for me, unlike most things that soothe my mind. It…. it’s more about the sound of the rain hitting the house, the smell of the mist in the air…. I guess I’m just happy that I haven’t lost all of my favorite parts of nature. That I can still enjoy things like this with the senses I do still have.”

Though your heart still holds a crack in response to his troubles, you feel tears of relief begin weighing down your waterline as his smile grows wider than it’s been all day. You suddenly shift your weight to meet him eye-to-eye after taking a moment to compose yourself, taking your sweet, fragile man’s precious face in your hands as you stare at him with a cheesy, lovestruck smile.

“You know, I think you’ve made me love the rain too.” You whisper, before leaning in and connecting your lips in a tender, gentle kiss. It’s brief, a few seconds at most, but he’s able to understand without words just how thankful you are for this moment. How thankful you are that he’s smiling again, that he’s found something besides his lover that still brings him joy. You’ve had to watch him lose so much along with his eyesight, sticking by his side through all of his worst moments along this journey, and through this kiss he realizes that you dream of him never losing joys like the rain ever again.

You’re unable to resist the urge to brush your thumb against the soft skin of his cheek as you pull away from this kiss, your finger slowly tracing along his sharp jawline as you press another peck to his cheek. “If it makes you happy, then I hope it rains every day. Anything to see you smile. “ You tell him with a voice full of fondness, and right then Jihyun knows that he could lose every other pleasure in life - rain included - and still be perfectly satisfied, as long as he still had you to love and hold throughout the rest of his life.

Request - Anonymous said: hello, darling! how are you? for your flufftober could you write something for v from mysme, please???

A/N: Ahhhh so sorry for my absence during my school-related slump, but I am STILL going to catch up these next few days because I REALLY want to see this event through to the end since I’m having tons of fun with it! Honestly I don’t know much about V (haven’t been down his route yet, and there’s been very little about him in the routes I’ve been down so far) so I hope this is okay! I think it turned out really sweet at least, I’m pretty proud of this so I hope you guys enjoy it as well! :> Also my requests are currently open, so if you have any requests for any fandoms I write for feel free to send them my way!

Taglist: @flufftober

If you’d like to be added to any of my taglists, you can fill out this form here! Thank you for your support <3

[starburstfloat]

Coming of Age Storytelling in TXT's Quarter Life (aka let's talk about korean grammar!!)

Quarter Life is one of my favorite tracks off minisode 3, not just for its coming of age theme but also the raw, unfiltered way their voices carry the message.

A closer look at the Korean lyrics led me to understanding the song anew so I wanted to share that with you guys.

What struck me most was the narrative shift in the song. Beomgyu, Taehyun, and Kai all transition from a contemplative, somewhat hopeless state of mind at the beginning of the song to an empowered and motivated mentality during the second half.

Admittedly, you don't need to pick apart the nuance of the conjugation patterns they're using to grasp this - listening to the song alone will give you a sense of it. But I think knowing the grammar a bit more just makes you feel it more deeply and helps the song feel that much more alive and inspiring. At the same time, I'll weave together my observations on the (wonderful!) storytelling/narrative flow. Let's go!

Beomgyu starts the song with:

A quarter life / 누군가가 나의 나이를 부르는 말

A quarter life / This is how someone calls my age

Note how this opening line establishes a distance from the protagonist: we're not centering on what he thinks at first, but rather how other people perceive him. Perception vs sense of self is a big coming of age theme. In the following lines, he alludes to having walked through a long long (긴긴) tunnel, and in explaining it to us, we get a sense for how the world has shaped him (or more specifically, worn him down). He may be young, but he is so so tired.

Kai reiterates this sentiment by saying:

좋을 때래 아름다운 청춘은 지금뿐이래

(People say) these are the good times, that the beauty of youth is only now

followed by him adding: I ain't happy at all

Once again, the focus is on perception. Their disconnect between how other people think they should feel versus how they actually feel builds a sense of lack and sadness.

The first narrative shift happens right after this, when Taehyun poses a pondering question:

혹시 어두운 이 턴널에도 끝은 있을까

(I wonder if) this dark tunnel even has en end?

-을까 verb endings paired with 혹시 (perhaps/maybe) add a contemplative tone to the question, thus indicating our first transition from Beomgyu and Kai's solemn defeat about youth being exhausting to wondering, maybe there's a way out of this?

Then we dive into the pre-chorus, which gets even more reflective:

어디로 가야 하는 건데

Where do I have to go/should I go?

-ㄴ데 endings are frequent in both spoken and written Korean and depending on context have several meanings. Here it leaves the listener with the knowledge that something has been left unsaid. I often think of it as ellipses that have a slow fade effect. In terms of the song, this line here emphasizes the pondering moment of taehyun earlier, kind of like "where do I have to go....?"

Kai mentions he's lonely, just walking in circles, it's a full quarter life crisis

The chorus hits with its instrumental - a release of all their frustrations and confusion for the tumultuous feelings.

The second half of the song gets interesting. It's here that each line slowly gets more optimistic and empowered. Taehyun says he refuses to say that he fucked up his life. This one thought keeps him grounded and makes him want to keep trying.

Kai's lead into the second pre-chorus is almost exactly the same as the first (on first listen I didn't hear a difference) but he actually changed one of the verb endings: instead of saying 건데 again (that ...? feeling grammar point) he uses an -는 지 ending:

어디로 가야 하는 건지

Where do I have to go/should I go?

Note that the translation is exactly the same as the pre-chorus earlier, but there's a slightly different feeling attached. The -는 지 conjugation poses a "whether this or that" setup, once again showcasing uncertainty, but this time instead of pondering and ruminating, it's acknowledging the presence of options. He's getting closer to stepping into a decision - a decision he gets to make now, not something dictated by the perception of others.

Taehyun adds:

Don't look back / 돌아갈 순 없지

Don't look back / You can't go back

Many of you may already know -ㄹ 수 없다 conjugation as "cannot do something". Notice how the center is 순 instead of 수. 순 is used as an emphasizing marker, and the conjugation of -지 adds a feeling of someone going "right?" or "of course." There's a slight sense of urgency to it all. Knowing this, I hope you can feel the weight of Taehyun's lines here: he's urging himself to embrace what he has in the moment because he can't go back and he knows it and doesn't want this moment to escape him.

Also noteworthy is the lack of 요 endings to indicate higher formality. All of the song is in banmal, which suggests they're actually talking to themselves/in their own head. Very touching :')

The song ends on a determined high: Beomgyu and Kai affirm they are going to keep wandering through this quarter life crisis. I love the choice to finish the song with their raw vocals and the high of the instruments long gone. It centers us so much on their determination. Absolutely beautiful song and I hope I could give you some insight into the grammar and the feelings it captured.

[residentrookie]

writer interview game 🫧

thanks for the tags my lovelies i literally loved reading all of ur answers @whorerific @otrtbs @spacexcowgirl @sunfl0w3rmoon (if i'm forgetting someone, and i feel like i am, i am so sorry)

how many works do you have on ao3?

currently 4!!! feeling slay about that

what's your total ao3 word count?

167,842 (eep!)

your top 5 stories by kudos?

i'll be seeing you

are you sick of me? (would you like to be?)

lovesick

starfell lodge

do you respond to comments?

i try to because they geniunely are so wonderful and motivate me so much but i do have a hefty amount sitting in my inbox that need some TLC :(

what's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

ermmm well it's not written yet, but out of the ones I'm currently working on that's probs gonna be ibsy. due to the mcd of it all i fear.

do you write crossovers?

naur <3

have you ever received hate on a fic?

thankfully no bc i'm a sensitive little bitch. but ppl have commented like... weird things before. like in one of my fics, james loves twilight (bc duh) and someone commented just to let me know that they hated twilight. i was like dawg, is this fr the time and place to air that out??

do you write smut?

a ha ha. not yet!

have you ever had a fic stolen?

nooooo thank gawd. unless u know something i don't...

have you ever had a fic translated?

nope! maybe someday, i think that would be real real kewl :)

have you ever co-written a fic before?

no but i do love to ponder this possibility with my friends and then never revisit the idea again...

what's your all-time favorite ship?

RAHHHHHHH ok. fuck. wolfstar. GOTTA BE‼️ (jegulus, my loves, my lights, u are a close, close second)

what's a wip that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

i have a hurt/no comfort wolfstar fic that eats at my liver like that one guy who got cursed. i guarantee u, i will never write it. i was just meant to ruminate on it and never do a thing about it.

what are your writing strengths?

ooooh!! i think dialogue!!! i'm a yapper and i love writing yappers!!! also i lurvvvv a good metaphor.

what are your writing weaknesses?

setting. descriptions. everytime my characters go to a new location i want to actually pass away. like idk there are floors? some walls? maybe a window, if i'm feeling generous? IDK IDGAF I WANT THEM TO TALK TO EACH OTHER AND DO SHIT RAHHHHH

what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

PRO! as my darling rose said so aptly, google translate <3 (and occasionally i use my own personal translator @pretentiouswreckingball if she's feeling generous hehehe)

what's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

oooooooh. drarry maybe? yeah. i feel good about that. also i'm intrigued by pandoraxlily.

what's your favorite fic you've ever written?

that's gonna be my best american girl, i'll be seeing you. my first fic, my only longfic, my number one boy. ibsy is my pride and joy and also my curse and burden. but seriously i've poured my SOUL into that fic and i do believe it shows. this feels like a good time to mention that there's a new chapter comin out (tomorrow possibly!!)

OPEN TAG‼️ I'M SO FUCKING TIRED I CAN'T KEEP MY EYES OPEN‼️

[cissa-calls]

Countdown to Agatha All Along: Day 838

Y/N: “Agatha? Why do you have a playlist called “pondering atrocities at 3 am?”

Agatha: “Oh! That’s my rotting playlist!”

Wanda: “Rotting playlist?”

Agatha: “Yeah! I put it on and just ruminate on my past and wonder was it all worth it? Will I one day be confronted by the souls of coven, my sisters and mother? Was I always destined to read the Darkhold? Did I break the cycle of malice my mother began?”

Wanda: “That’s…disquieting to say the least.”

Y/N scrolling through it: “Lotta Mitski…some Ethel Cain…lotta ABBA? Since when do you listen to ABBA?”

Agatha: “Excuse me? When do I LISTEN to ABBA? I may be monstrous but I’m not uncultured.”

[cicidarkarts]

GIRRLLLL, sorry for being gone, I was busy with exams lol, and I LOVE THE FANARTS!!! SLAYYY— And I have a question, are there more headcanons for idrees? I just LOVE them, theyre make the character more entertaining than usual

I just recently got some hate for my crush on Idrees, so this is the perfect time to answer this ask. Last time, I did a bunch of "as close to canon as possible" answers. This time? I'm doing pure fanon Idrees based off of my fanfiction. Naturally, people reading this may or may not find it out of character, but I'll try to explain myself as succinctly and comprehensively as I can.

Fanon!Idrees/Fanfiction Headcanons:

Literally the smallest little things will set off Idrees' guilt. He holds the door open for someone, particularly if that person is a woman, and they say "thank you that's very kind"? Instant downward spiral of all the awful things he did and how he doesn't deserve to be labeled as kind or good.

Idrees is not good at making friends. Now that he doesn't live in Afghanistan, and he's exposed to a very different culture, he just kinda shuts down and doesn't know how to interact with people. Rather than saying something stupid and triggering himself, he prefers to just stay quiet, and needs an ambivert/extrovert to adopt him in order to make friends.

(I apologize for this picture I forgot I drew)

Razaq was his mentor during the war. Originally, Idrees was resistant to Razaq's teachings and wisdom, thinking of him as just some jaded old man who had no idea what he was talking about. But the more entrenched in war he became, the more he started to listen.

He's afraid of change. But thanks to Razaq, he was coaxed out of his shell into different ways of thinking. It still scares him sometimes, leaving him wondering where and how his life went so wrong.

(Here's a more serious sad Idrees pic I drew omg he's so cute I wanna run my fingers through his hair so bad dude)

Idrees has put himself in physical danger to protect other people. Particularly protecting women from men. This started with Razaq encouraging him to stand up for what he believed in. Violence horrified Idrees, and he refused to participate where he had the option. This evolved into stepping in to protect others, which involved him getting the shit beat out of him on several ocassions. It's the one thing Idrees feels so strongly about and that he refuses to give up.

Idrees is a pretty capable fighter. Despite being so scrawny, Idrees had to learn to fight in order to survive. It's very easy to underestimate him which has led to several abusive and horrible men getting laid the fuck out.

Idrees' PTSD has resulted in OCD-like rituals to cleanse his hands of blood and war. He will scrub his hands in steaming water until his skin is raw and bleeding. Sometimes the water runs red from how badly he injures himself. In a pinch, he'll douse his hands in hand sanitizer. The smell of the alcohol and especially the occasional burns on his cuts and picked cuticles help pull him out of his memories.

And finally, Idrees is very introspective. It's a skill he learned from Razaq, and has honed over the years. He's spent many long nights trapped in his own head, ruminating, pondering, fearing for the future. He does this to his own detriment sometimes, perhaps as a way of punishing himself. Excerpt: Damn mentor. Making him think. Sure, Idrees had thought before, but he felt like he never truly thought until Razaq taught him how. Though he certainly wasn't taught to ruminate ad nauseam until the stippling on his ceiling swirled.

And that's it for my self-indulgent Fanon!Idrees headcanons. Feel free to agree or disagree with any of this! But he's my baby cinnamon bun and I love him very much. :) (And I hope your exams are going well! ♥♥)