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musicloverxoxo7 · 7 months

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Professor Kim’s Teaching assistant

Professor!Namjoon x fem!reader

Summary: You feel drawn to the new professor like to nobody else. Does he reciprocate that feeling? How far will you take it?

Themes/warnings: smut with a bit of plot at the beginning, age difference (reader is Master student, so ca 5 years), hand job, oral (m receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, y/n has mild dom tendencies, tied up hands, nipple play

Wordcount: ca. 3300 words

Disclaimer: 18+, DO NOT INTERACT IF YOU ARE UNDER 18

I do not own BTS. They merely inspire me. None of this is related to their persons in real life.

“I want to use the last 5 minutes to discuss the topic that will occupy next lesson. Greek mythology in Harry Potter.”

When this new course opened the previous semester, you’d been dying to get a space. Which you finally did the second time around. But now that you’re sitting in Professor Kim’s course, you are bored. Either you know too much about literature or your minds are too alike. You already know almost all the stuff he talks about, while everyone else is in awe at his creative angles.

You raise your hand. Professor Kim looks around. Since none of the other 15 students want to say anything, he gets back to you with a sigh.

“Go ahead, Ms y/l/n.”

It’s almost always a conversation between just the two of you. It has been like that the entire semester.

“For one, there are all the beasts and magical creatures that J.K. Rowling involved in her magical universe. Things like the chimera, centaurs, Cerberus. Aside from that we also have characters in the book named after actual mythological beings, not just Greek, but also Roman.”

“That is correct. Could you give an example? Greek or Roman.”

“Take Remus Lupin for example. Roman legends say that Romulus and Remus were twins that were tasked with building a city. The short version is that Romulus got to build it and named it after himself, of course. Mythology says that they were raised by a she-wolf. I consider this fact of importance, since Remus Lupin is a werewolf.”

“Accurate. Everyone, until next week, if you haven’t done so yet, please read Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s stone. Ms y/l/n, my office, please.”

You file out of the classroom with the other students and head to Professor Kim’s office. You have no idea why he’d want to talk to you. He’s never asked you to his office before.

Professor Kim appears a minute after you, his glasses askew and his hair a slight mess. Same as usual.

You smile just a tiny bit. You’d definitely straighten out those glasses. But you’d definitely leave the messy hair be.

“Please, Ms y/l/n, come in. Would you like something to drink? I have tea, coffee or water.”

You sit down at the corner of his desk as he makes himself a cup of coffee.

“I’m good, thank you. Why am I here?”

He waits until the coffee machine is done, then leans against the cupboard on which it stands. His pecks are on display like that, and you give yourself a second to admire them.

“I want to discuss your future. You are exceptional in the field I teach.”

“I just like reading a lot and finding out what could have been behind it.”

You shrug your shoulders.

“Have you considered doing a PhD and becoming a professor?”

“Maybe.”

“You don’t have to share with me, y/n, if you don’t want to. I merely wanted to offer you my assistance, in case you’d like it.”

Maybe it is because he’s trying so hard. Maybe because this is the first time he has called you by your first name.

“I did consider it for a while. But I had a professor last semester who said they’d do whatever it takes so I don’t get in anywhere as a PhD student.”

“What?”

Professor Kim moves so abruptly that he spills coffee all over his chest. Thanks to your long talk it’s only warm anymore, but he still curses. He puts the cup aside. It gives you a full frontal of his chest, including dark nipples that strain against the fabric.

You jump into action helping him clean up, because otherwise you might do something stupid. Something stupid like burying your face in his chest.

“Take it off.”

“It’s beyond saving. I never get coffee out.”

“Take it off. I’ll do it.”

He doesn’t even turn away to unbutton the shirt. When he tugs the rest of the shirt out of his pants to get the last 2 buttons, you have to cling to your composure very tightly. He hands you the shirt and you put it in the tiny sink in his office.

With the cold water and the immediacy of your reaction, the stain is out in next to no time.

“Et voila.”

You hold up the dripping shirt. No stain left on the light blue fabric. Your smile wavers when you see that Professor Kim is still standing there shirtless. His caramel skin looks like it is supposed to be savored slowly and explored extensively.

“Was it Lim?”

“Huh?”

“Did Professor Lim tell you those terrible things?”

“Oh, well…”

“Y/n!”

“Okay, yes, he did.”

Professor Kim sighs deeply. He straightens out his glasses and walks over to his desk.

“He hates women that are smarter than him. Especially if they are also beautiful. He’s an insecure pig. Time for some measures.”

“What? No!”

You are at the desk with 2 quick steps, your hand on Professor Kim’s upper arm. He looks up slowly from what he was writing, his eyes not focused on your hand but on your eyes.

“Y/n, if you want to go to university for a PhD, I will help you.”

“Okay, then help me. But please, let’s try to keep Professor Lim out of this for as long as possible. He won’t be able to do anything if he finds out last minute.”

Professor Kim straightens up and you finally let go of his arm. You’re a little sad, because it felt very nice. Strong and warm.

“How about you become my TA in the meantime, for your last semester here? That way we would have a valid excuse for spending some time together. Time we will mostly spend on prepping you for that PhD and the application process.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Professor Kim looks at his shirt in your arm and then his naked torso.

“I forgot I wasn’t wearing a shirt. Sorry about that.”

He grabs a jacket from a stand in the corner and buttons it up. This way, he is mostly covered up again. What a shame. You’d grown used to seeing him shirtless by now.

“And one more thing, y/n.”

“What?”

“Please call me Namjoon. Teaching assistants and their professors are almost always on first name terms.”

You hand him back the moist shirt.

“Got it. The shirt should be fine now. But please give it a wash in the washing machine as well.”

“Thank you for your help. I’ll remember that for next time.”

--------

As it turns out, Professor Kim – no, Namjoon – spills something quite regularly. No matter how elegant he looks, he can be quite clumsy. The following week you end up washing coke out of his shirt. The week after hot cocoa. You end up almost getting too comfortable with seeing him shirtless.

Being a TA is turning out to be quite fun and not all that much work, since Namjoon does not hold that many courses this semester.

The day comes when you get accepted into 3 different PhD programs at very prestigious universities. They are out of Professor Lim’s league, so he doesn’t dare mess with you. And finally, your graduation day arrives.

After a beautiful graduation ceremony, you have dinner with your mom and granny. Granny urges you to get married and mom wants you to finally start working full-time. They both talk way too much about your brother and sister and their little families.

Afterwards, you are in dire need of a drink. You end up in a poorly lit bar two houses down from the restaurant. Surprisingly, it smells like peppermint and lime in there. You sit down at the bar and order your favorite drink.

“Long day?”

Namjoon turns to you. You sat down on his right side without even noticing him there. You notice that the top 3 buttons of his shirt are open, and the sleeves pushed upwards. Your mind wants to go in some dirty directions, but you don’t let it.

Thankfully, the bartender puts down the drink in front of you right that moment.

“Kind of. Beautiful, but also laden. Like a landmine.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“Sounds like family.”

Namjoon snorts into his drink.

“No matter how much I love my family, I understand what you mean. What did they say to you getting into the 3 best universities in the country?”

“Haven’t told them. They’d be livid that I haven’t gotten married or taken a full time, highly paid positions somewhere yet.”

“You’ll probably have to tell them sometime.”

“Yeah, sometime. I only see them once or twice a year and that’s soon enough for me.”

You let out a long, heavy sigh.

“You want to sit down in an alcove?”

“Sure.”

You move to an empty one with your drinks. The lighting is different here. Warmer, sexier. Namjoon’s dimples look like they want to pull you closer to him. You have a hard time resisting.

“Now that I’m no longer your professor, I’d still like to at least stay friends with you.”

“Of course. It’s thanks to you that I got to this point.”

“Not really. I only guided you a little. But thanks to you I now know how to clean almost all stains out of my shirts.”

You smile. That is true.

“I didn’t mind.”

You don’t because you find his clumsiness endearing. And also, because you got to see him shirtless on a weekly basis. Which was worth the effort.

Namjoon smiles. And something in that smile tells you that he knows.

You fidget a little. Since the nook is small and the bench short, your arm touches his in the process. You withdraw your arm and sit still again.

“I will miss having you around nearly every day. Of course, you were a great help, but mostly your presence is very stimulating to my mind.”

“Well, you wanted to be friends, so we will still get to see each other.”

“Of course. But that won’t be the same, will it?”

“I suppose not.”

Namjoon takes another sip of beer. When he leans back again, his cheeks are a faint strawberry color. You keep your eyes on him. He doesn’t look at you, though, but far into the distance.

“I am a very clumsy person. Which you know.”

“Yes.”

“I do spill drinks on myself quite regularly.”

“I know.”

“But maybe not quite so often. More like once or twice a month.”

“What are you saying?”

You’re still looking at him and he finally meets your eyes.

“I wanted to be close to you. The way you looked at my chest whenever I took of my shirt... I hoped you’d make a move on me someday.”

“Wait what?”

“Ridiculous, I know. You have marvelous self-restraint. And perhaps you only enjoy pecks in general, not specifically me as a person.”

His eyes are honest, with a hint of vulnerability. You hold his gaze for a few moments, then your eyes move down to his pecks. His shirt today is just the right amount of tight. But the fabric is midnight blue, so you cannot see through it.

You bite your bottom lip. You do like Namjoon as a person.

“I do like pecks. But yours are particularly… delectable.”

You slowly look up at him again. His dimples are showing. You move your hand up and gently poke one of his dimples with your finger. When you withdraw your hand again, Namjoon catches it and blows a kiss on your fingertip.

Butterflies flutter through your stomach. You move a little closer and put your hand on his thigh. He does not object. When you stroke up and down his thigh, his breathing becomes a little labored.

Encouraged by your bold movements, Namjoon leans forward and touches his lips to yours. You deepen the kiss. He tastes like peppermint and beer.

You break apart after what could have been seconds or hours.

“Would you like to disappear from here? My apartment is just down the road. If you aren’t ready, though, we can postpone that.”

You take him by the hand and pull him out of the alcove. Thank goodness the drinks are already paid for.

The warm summer air outside caresses your legs and arms. Namjoon takes your hand and guides you to his place. On the way you talk about books, as usual.

Only once the door to his apartment closes behind him do things change again. You’ve barely taken off your shoes when Namjoon grabs your waist and pulls you against him. This kiss is much less restrained and civil than the one in the bar.

You melt into him, your hands on his firm pecks. You run your hands over them, making sure to also caress his nipples gently. Every time you give them a twist, his breath catches. Finally, you can’t take it anymore and unbutton his shirt. He does not stop you.

Once you have peeled the shirt off him, you let your hands roam over his entire upper body. He gives you time to explore while keeping his hands at your waist.

When you break apart for a breather, Namjoon smiles.

“This kind of curiosity will bring you far anywhere, y/n.”

You giggle. Even in a situation like this, he can’t help but think of work and books.

“I hope it can also bring me as far as your bedroom.”

“If that is where you want to be, definitely.”

He walks to the bedroom door and pushes it open. You walk inside past him and turn on the light. There are beautiful paintings on the wall. The bed isn’t made, but overall, the room is very clean and organized.

You turn back to Namjoon.

“I love the interior design. I want a painting tour later on.”

“Whatever you wish, y/n.”

You put your hands on his belt buckle and open it.

“IF there is anything you don’t like, tell me to stop. Ditto for if it’s too much.”

“Who is the teacher here?”

You smirk up at him.

“Tonight, I think it’s me. But I’m always willing to switch roles.”

You pull the belt out of his pants.

“Lie down.”

He does.

“Put up your hands.”

He follows your instructions again. You tie his hands to the head of the bed with his belt.

“I’ll untie you whenever you want. Just say the word.”

“Got it. But I’m feeling pretty comfortable right now.”

You unzip your dress and drop it on the floor before crawling on the bed. Namjoon lies stretched out, the muscles in his arms and torso prominent. You sit down on his lower belly and give him a kiss.

“This could take a while.”

And it does. You start with feathery kisses on his dimples and then move down his neck. You are very tempted to leave marks there, but that wouldn’t be good for a professor who has to teach his students tomorrow.

So instead, you suck a mark into his bulging upper arm. You gently scratch your teeth over the inside of his forearm. That has goosebumps running over his arms. You bite down on the inside of his palm.

By then you’ve teased enough and move down to his chest. His gorgeous chest. Finally, you get to touch and savor. You place sloppy kisses all over his pecks. Namjoon watches you with hooded eyes. When you run your lips over his nipples, his eyes cross. You do it again and add a little tongue. He huffs out a breath.

You keep up the ministrations for another minute or two until you move down his stomach. You leave tiny bites there, which has his stomach muscles contracting like crazy.

You unzip his slacks.

“Hips up.”

He does and you pull the slacks and underwear down. As you already felt earlier, he is fully erected. You run your hand up the shaft and pay special attention to the frenulum. Namjoon takes a shuddering breath. Your thumb draws a circle around his slit.

“Baby, stop torturing me.”

“Are you in pain?”

“No.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

Namjoon sighs.

“Goodness, no.”

“Then stop complaining or I’ll gag you next.”

You smile up at him.

Then you lower your head and repeat the circular motion around his slit with your tongue. His moan is a true turn on. You ditch your panties, slip your hand between your legs and start playing with your clit, while you keep working him with your tongue and mouth.

It doesn’t take long until you have him at the brink of desperation. And ecstasy.

You raise your head and let go of him. His eyes linger on your other hand, which is between your legs.

“May I do that too, tonight?”

“Definitely. But later.”

You crawl back up to the headboard and untie him. He lowers his arms and presses you against his body. The close body contact feels heavenly.

Namjoon undoes your bra. You sit up and throw it aside. Then you lay down on him again, rubbing your nipples against his chest. It feels like heaven. Until you’re so sensitive you have to stop.

You kiss the tip of his nose.

“Your turn now, professor. I want to feel you in me.”

He rolls you around until you are lying on your back and he is hovering over you. With one hand he grabs your hands and pins them against the pillows above you. You find that very, very hot.

You arch your body towards him.

“Please.”

“How could I say no to that.”

You feel his tip push against your entrance. It’s a nice stretch once he finally pushes into you, slowly, so you can adjust. Except that you are so turned on that you don’t really need time to adjust.

Namjoon is breathing heavily by the time he bottoms out.

“Give me just a second like this, okay? I don’t want to cum right away.”

He smiles down at you and the dimples appear in all their glory. You pucker your lips. He gets the message and leans down for a kiss. A very deep, slightly messy kiss.

Once you break apart and he finally starts moving, your eyes meet. His are dark, almost black, with lust.

His moves are slow and steady at first. He lets go of one of your hands, so you can play with your nipple. It doesn’t take long until his moves become sloppier, harsher. With a few more twists or your nipple your high burns its way through you.

Namjoon’s breathing gets shallower while you moan into his ear. He lets go of your other hand and you sling both around his torso.

“I can’t… much longer…”

“It’s okay. We have all night for more.”

A few more sloppy thrusts, then Namjoon cums. He buries his face in your shoulder, and you hold him once his body ceases to move.

It takes a bit for both your breathing to normalize and for heartbeats to slow down again. Until that happens, you stroke Namjoon’s hair.

You don’t know how long you lay there like that, but you enjoy it.

Eventually, Namjoon raises his head and looks down at you. His eyes have cleared up to their normal dark brown. You see something in them that looks surprisingly like love. You’re even more surprised that you don’t mind that at all. Maybe it is time to trust another person and give them your love.

“Would you like to go and take a hot shower with me, y/n.”

“Gladly.”

He pulls out of you and helps you up.

“About that paintings tour of your apartment?”

“Yes?”

“Let’s postpone that until tomorrow. I think we’re busy for the rest of the night.”

Namjoon guides you into the bathroom, where he turns on the shower. There is easily enough space for two people in there.

“As you prefer, honey.”

When you look at him his eyes are crinkled in a smile.

Please do not copy, translate, or repost my work (reblogging is fine though). Doing so will make you legally liable for stealing intellectual property.

#bts smut #bts imagines #bts x reader #bts fanfic #female y/n #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #namjoon smut #namjoon #female reader

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childotkw · 14 days

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Can we hear a bit about your original stories? I just started writing one and it is So Hard just to come up with the characters and their environment so I wanted to hear how you came up with those if you didn’t mind

Very interesting question! For me, a lot of my ideas come from wisps of inspiration from tropes or other concepts.

Characters and worlds and environment go through some pretty intensive edits in my head, so the roots aren't always obvious - and often I smash together multiple ideas, carving and chopping and smoothing things out until I have something workable that gets me excited.

(Buckle up, this post might be a long one)

Coming up with a concept

I'm not sure how it might work for other people, but I am constantly on the look out for inspiration for stories - asking myself 'what if this happened?', 'how cool would it be if this person had to do this thing?', or 'how could this trope work in a different genre?'.

Keeping myself open to these kinds of outlandish and sometimes hilarious thoughts means I've trained my brain to constantly churn up interesting concepts and ideas. Some barely have life breathed into them before I'm moving on. Others cling to me and live in my head for years.

The point is, be on the hunt for interesting ideas, and let your imagination have room to run free. Don't get boxed into an idea in its infancy. Let it grow crazily, let it get wild, before you break out the pruning tools. You're human. Let your mind have fun. Let your imagination explode.

Coming up with a character/s

So when I'm thinking of a character to inhabit my crazy new concept, I tend to go for vibe before anything else. I ask myself things like:

What kind of character do I really want to play with? Good, bad, morally grey? Cool, morally grey it is.

What species do I want? A god, a human, some fantasy creature? Human.

What type of human? A fighter, or more cerebral? Both? How 'bout a strategist? Okay that works.

And I go from there. I basically build a vague construct before worrying about things like physical description, name, age, gender, sex, etc. Those come later, once I've got a vibe I find interesting for a main character. Then comes the fun part.

Bringing concept and character together

For this to work, I've gotta figure out how these two elements to interact. To do that, I ask myself a whole bunch of questions.

How does my shiny new character fit in this world? Are they a grand figure or are they a nobody? What do I want them to do? What challenge would be interesting to watch them overcome? What can only they do? Why should my audience care about this random little guy?

This is normally where plot comes to me in fits and bursts, and once I have an idea on the overarching aspects, I start hammering out the finer details. This is where I really let my imagination out to play. I go wild, spinning off in multiple different directions, chewing on ideas and concepts and finding what works best for me.

Here you can also start developing things like other characters, relationships, dynamics, worldbuilding (e.g., currency, religion, factions, hierarchy, magic, science, how the bloody postal system works, etc.).

An example (through a conversation I regularly have with myself)

So, here's an example of an idea I've been playing with the last week.

Coming up with a concept

Okay! I've been inspired by the Old Guard, so I want to explore immortality and the idea of humanity and what life actually means. But how do I make this concept even cooler? What would make being immortal hard to conceal in a modern world?

How about instead of a modern world it's a futuristic society where everything is captured on some form of phone / camera / recording - and that makes dying and coming back to life extremely difficult to get away with. Where it's getting harder and harder to be able to cover their tracks, where falling through the cracks of society is damn near impossible with instant identification and other such measures.

Nice, nice. What else? How does the immortality work?

From the moment of their first death, the person now has increased healing and cannot age; though they can physically change (i.e., gain or lose weight and muscles, grow their hair and whatnot). Injuries heal at a rate relative to the seriousness of it - even amputations.

How does amputation work though? What if they lose their head? Does a new body grow or does the body grow a new head?

I'll have to iron this out but maybe it depends on the largest body piece? So the body would regrow the head, but if the body was completely blown apart, then whatever piece was biggest would become the 'main' one that the rest of the body would regenerate from?

What causes the immortality?

(I have an idea but wanna keep it a secret for now 😉)

So how does this world work then? It's futuristic - but how futuristic?

I'm thinking we've just achieved space travel. There's a colony on the moon and one being developed on Mars. We're spacefaring but it's not quite to the level of say, Star Wars or Star Trek. No aliens yet either! We've also got rudimentary robots running around, but they're machines more than fully autonomous. Basically, it's that time just before a massive technological leap in human history. We're on the verge of realising a lot of 'sci-fi' technologies.

Coming up with characters

Who are our main characters?

I was thinking of using Helen of Troy, since she's a mythological / historical figure that I've always found really interesting! So instead of her dying way back in the day, she actually became immortal during the Trojan War and has been enduring through the last 3500ish years as best she can.

The other main character I was planning on focussing the story around was Aethiolas - Helen's (disputed) son and former Prince of Sparta. I thought it'd be cool to explore an immortal mother and son dynamic, where almost 4000 years of sorrow and bitterness have tangled their relationship into something complex and...heartbreaking.

So what are they both like?

Helen has turned towards pacifism, whereas Aethiolas is and always will be a warrior. Helen is a leader - usually calm and collected and capable of commanding respect. Aethiolas, for the longest time, acted as her second in command and is quite a confident person. While Helen might long for the past, Aethiolas looks to the future with excitement and fascination.

Helen's group have become more observers, whereas Aethiolas takes an active role in shaping history - joining causes that speak to him and seeking to bring positive change into the world.

Aethiolas is viewed as reckless and dangerous to their way of life, killing humans who threaten him without hesitation; whereas he views his mother and the others as too rigid and afraid of change, and far too morally righteous and superior. A common argument between them would include lines like -- "Just because we can't die, mother, doesn't mean we should allow ourselves to be killed."

Helen views their immortality as a punishment. Aethiolas views it as a gift. But there is still love and loyalty between them. Despite everything, Helen is Aethiolas' mother, and he cares for her. And she for him.

Bringing concept and character together

How do these characters fit in with the world now?

Well, Helen is in charge of their group of immortals; whereas Aethiolas has become more of a 'lone wolf'. While he and his mother have had a falling out, and they fundamentally disagree on the use of violence and interacting with the world, Aethiolas still acts as the group's sword and shield. He doesn't live with them but he protects them from threats and they rely on him when issues crop up that do require swift action. There's some hypocrisy there, and it is one of the major points of conflict between them.

The story would likely kick off with several new immortals being born - and in a rather public and difficult to cover up manner. This has the risk of dragging all of the immortals into the spotlight, and prompts them to have to quickly decide whether living in the shadows is even possible any more.

--- -- --- -- ---

This became very long and rambling, but this is essentially how I create ideas from scratch. I'm super tired atm so it might not be super coherent! But if anything particular jumps out at you or you want me to focus in on something, please let me know!

#skitter-kitter #personal #writing tips

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shortpplfedup · 10 months

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Episode 10 has put me squarely in my Jeng feelings in a way I have not obsessed about a character probably since Teh Krittikorn Saetun. After watching him compartmentalize his way into a complete abdication of responsibility this week, and having read literally every piece of stellar meta the fandom has churned out, but especially from folks like @bengiyo and @nakasomethingkun about the corporate setting actually being the point of this story...I'm completely down the rabbithole, no way out guys. I vacillate between my optimistic and pessimistic expectations on how satisfactorily this story will wrap. @lurkingshan and @neuroticbookworm STAY on Tee's ass and I can't quite say they're wrong. But the thing I'm now 100% sure about is that the romance is not the point of this story. The romance is here in service of points Tee wants to make and themes he wants to explore around capitalism and queerness (second time Tee is going hard at this idea, after poking at it in Lovely Writer). Tee is using romance because it's the most effective way to make queerness legible for and saleable to a general audience, WHICH IS IN ITSELF A COMMENTARY ON CAPITALISM AND QUEERNESS BUT I JUST BLEW MY OWN DAMN MIND AND HAVE TO PUT THAT IDEA DOWN FOR NOW.

Jeng, Jeng is the character sitting at the intersection, at the tension point between capitalism and queerness. Jeng, who thanks to @waitmyturtles DRILLING Asian family dynamics into my head over the last few months, I have realised is incredibly unlikely to be able to escape his fate as the heir to Jian Group. Why does Jeng work TWO FULL TIME JOBS? Because he can only have the things he wants if he also accepts the things he never wanted. He can't abandon Jian Group, but he can build next to it an entire other life: Pearl & Oliver, queer speakeasies, doing his little part to minimize food waste and support a marginalized community, and Pat. COMPARTMENTALIZATION. For all Jeng's big talk about work/life integration, he doesn't even consider that he can mesh the things he wants with the things he's obligated to do until Pat points it out to him under that bridge. Shouts to the homie @wen-kexing-apologist for breaking that scene down and making me realise that moment is the closest Jeng got this episode to the shape of the relationship he actually wants with Pat. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

I say all that by way of preamble (I'm a long-winded bitch, strap in) on the way to one of my actual points: nobody actually KNOWS Jeng Kittiphong Atthachiranon. Even the two people closest to him in the story, Jaab and Tae, only know pieces. Pat barely knows him at all, because even though he desperately WANTS Pat to know him, the boss thing was a barrier to that, and now they've speedrun straight into a unholy mess when they should have been truly getting to know each other. You can see how, were it not for Jeng's slow motion rolling breakdown (of which his intense infatuation with Pat is honestly part and parcel) and Pat's role at Jian Group, these two could have spent a year at this pace, fucking and talking and falling in love and it would have been FINE. But the life Jeng never wanted broke containment and rolled over Pat, and now here they are.

@plantsarepeopletoo pointed out how the narrative punishes characters for going too fast or out of order (Jaab and Jen), and rewards those who take their time and stay the course (Chot). We thought Jeng would be the latter. That's the Jeng we're introduced to: calm, sensible, logical, responsible, in control. But that Jeng is a TOTAL SHAM, that Jeng is a façade built to meet the world's expectations of him, a carefully crafted and cultivated image of cisheteropatriarchal corporate masculine perfection. The Jeng who has been panting after Pat for the better part of a year and doing absolutely INSANE shit to get next to him, that's the real Jeng. This episode was Jeng trying to rebuild the wall between his two lives after having it collapse last ep and utterly failing BECAUSE PAT NOW IS PART OF HIS LIFE ON BOTH SIDES OF THAT WALL. He cannot neatly compartmentalize Pat into his Desired Life, because Pat also has to exist in his Expected Life. And Pat doesn't actually know Jeng, because this is all happening too fast and out of order, so he doesn't know that Jeng is in the middle of a full-on existential crisis as his two worlds collide.

Sidenote: Pat accidentally hit on Jeng's compartmentalization tendencies early in the show I realize, when he drunkenly whinged about how he couldn't understand why Jeng felt like two different people, and he didn't know which one was the real one. I think that sort of bullseye targeting at the heart of Jeng is one of a host of reasons Jeng fell so hard and so totally for Pat: he thought Pat understood him on some level. It's why having to come out to Pat, having to explain himself when he thought he didn't have to, knocked him onto the back foot and things haven't REALLY been right with them since.

It's so sad, and SO QUEER that Jeng is living this double life and it's slowly breaking him. He's coming apart at the seams trying to hold it all and not lose any of it. Jeng talked a good game about work/life integration, but the flip side of that is bringing your whole self to work. And he can't do that, he can't even think of doing that, right? But he's gotta do something because now Pat has been dragged into the mess, and worse yet Pat has brought Jeng's Desired Life to the direct and un-ignorable attention of the key figure in Jeng's Expected Life: his father. And while I think Jeng's father is aware of his Desired Life (disapprovingly natch, but silently allowing it as long as Jeng continues to live his Expected Life), I think he's stood ready to stamp it out the minute it becomes a problem. And the problem has arrived. That's why Jeng looks so sick when he realizes that Pat went to his father to resign. The shit has truly hit the fan. Compartmentalization is over.

#step by step #step by step the series

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heyiwrotesomethings · 1 year

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Red String

ShinoMitsu Week 2023 Day Two

A/N: Starts out angsty and there are some misunderstandings, but all ends well : ) This also contains some material from the main manga, Stories of Water and Flame, and the One-winged Butterfly light novel. Thanks for reading! Word Count: 4,544

Mitsuri had been fascinated by the red string tied around her pinky finger since it appeared sometime after her first birthday. She could see the winding and tugging strings that littered the ground for as long as she could remember, always marveling at how people could move through even the toughest of tangles without being hindered in any way.

It wasn’t until she was six that she learned what the strings meant after asking her mother about the occasional tugging at her pinky finger.

“A string of fate connects you to your soulmate,” her mother had explained, “Somewhere, a person made just for you is saying hello.”

Mitsuri made sure to tug back every time after that. It was also during that conversation that Mitsuri realized that not everyone could see these strings, as she did. Even her mother had seemed to brush her child’s claim off with a soft smile and a light chuckle.

“Well then how does everyone know the strings are red if nobody’s supposed to see them?” Mitsuri pouted, crossing her arms.

“Because something so wonderful would be dyed in the color of happiness, no?” Her mother tapped her nose with the tip of her finger, “Now help your mother up, so we can make lunch, will you sweetheart?”

Mitsuri helped her heavily pregnant mother back to her feet with very little trouble, dreams of her soulmate running through her head. Regardless of whether or not her mother believed her, see could see the strings clear as day. It would be easy to find whoever was tied to the other end of hers. She would find them in no time.

Or so she thought.

Mitsuri thought she had found her soulmate just before turning seventeen. In the years leading up to meeting him, she would spend time each day wrapping the string around her wrist, believing she was closing the distance between herself and her intended life partner.

That prim boy with the glasses had been so tangled in her string when they had crossed paths that Mitsuri had been certain he was the one. She fell hard and fast.

At first, all seemed well. They were set to be married the following year. He was snobbish, a bit cold the the touch, but Mitsuri loved him for who he was. If only he could have done the same, or at the very least let her go from the very beginning.

“You eat too much.”

“No girl should be that strong.”

“Aren’t you embarrassed to go out with your hair looking like that?”

Mitsuri would still smile though the words cut through her like glass. Convinced her love was true, she did everything she could to fix herself, mold herself into whatever he wanted. It had to be working right? In the night, she would feel the familiar tug against her pinky and tug back and her heart would feel lighter again. She was doing the right thing.

But after a few months of starving herself and coloring her roots black at the first sign of pink, the boy with the glasses had finally had enough of her. He told her he was done and left her without a backwards glance.

Perhaps the only saving grace of the day that saved Mitsuri from the heavy darkness threatening to swallow her whole was watching how her tangled string fell away from the boy the further away he walked, and the small tug on her pinky that was not reflected in the movement of his hands as he walked away. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she tugged back.

***

Mitsuri wasn’t sure what exactly drove her to the Demon Slayer Corps. Well, she did have an idea… she had taken up winding her string again, but more cautiously than before. She had learned the hard way that the string could be deceiving. It could grow and shrink and tangle with seemingly no rhyme or reason at all. Perhaps it would have been better if she couldn’t see it just like everyone else.

So though her string wove around Rengoku, she was cautious to jump the gun as she had before. Although he proved to be bright and kind, and anyone would be lucky to have him as a husband, Mitsuri liked him more as the big brother she never knew she wanted.

When she had gotten hurt helping people evacuate during Rengoku’s battle with Lower Moon Two, she was whisked away to the Butterfly Estate for medical assistance and met the most beautiful girl she had ever seen. How could such a girl even exist at all, much less in the same space and time so that Mitsuri could be so blessed as to look upon her with her own eyes.

Kochou Shinobu, also woven snuggly within Mitsuri’s string, smiled gently at her as she carefully disinfected and bandaged the canine-like bites that marred her thighs. Mitsuri could hardly speak to her without stammering, could hardly pay attention long enough to process the sweet sounding words the Insect Hashira spoke as she lost herself in those endlessly purple eyes. It was very hard for Mitsuri to not convince herself that Shinobu was her soulmate right on the spot.

“Please take good care of yourself, Kanroji-san. Can you do that for me?”

“Um— mhm! Mhm!” Mitsuri nodded so hard, she could have gotten whiplash. Shinobu laughed sweetly and Mitsuri instantly committed the sound to memory.

Then months later she found herself frantically spinning through the halls of the Master’s mansion. She was going to be late to her very first Hashira meeting, everyone was going to hate her!

As Mitsuri fretted about passing the same painting for the third time, someone cleared their throat behind her. Teary-eyed she spun to face the short man who stood awkwardly before her. He also seemed to be tangled within her string, quite a bit actually.

“You’re lost.” He stated the obvious, but Mitsuri nodded as if he had stated it as a question.

“I’ll take you back to the garden.” He glanced down at Mitsuri’s bare legs before snapping his eyes back up to her face. He than began stiffly walking down the right corridor. “Let’s go.”

“Thank you so much!” Mitsuri cried, relieved, following bouncily after him.

Upon entering the garden Mitsuri was certain that her soulmate had to be one of the Hashira around her. Meters and meters of her string draped over the group and almost seemed to carry a soft glow. Regardless of which Hashira her soulmate was, she already loved them all.

***

Mitsuri fiddled with the hem of one of her socks, her cheek resting against her knees. Obanai had given them to her the second time they saw each other, saying something awkward along the lines of looking at her made him feel cold.

She whined pitifully against her knees, arms covering her eyes. She had really messed up with Shinobu!

It all started out innocently enough, a cooking date of sorts, though Mitsuri only called it a date in her head. She had been so honored that Shinobu designated any time for her at all, but then she just had to go and blab unprompted that the reason she had joined the demon slayers was to find her soulmate!

Shinobu had looked at her a bit strangely, as Mitsuri mused about marrying a big, strong man, but she still smiled so Mitsuri didn’t think she had said anything wrong, until she had learned Shinobu’s reason for joining from a Kakushi. Compared to what Shinobu had gone through to end up where she was, loosing her parents and her sister, hearing that must have felt like a slap in the face!

Mitsuri had quickly excused herself after that and had been moping and avoiding Shinobu ever since. Not even Obanai treating her to dango had helped, in fact she couldn’t bring herself to enjoy it at all and ate very little. She told Obanai not to worry, that she was just feeling a little ill, but apparently that was more than enough to raise his concern and have him beating down Shinobu’s door the second Mitsuri’s back was turned.

As the days turned to weeks, she ate less and less, forced herself to be more demure even when faced with things that excited her and made her heart leap. It had even begun affecting her ability to do her job. On her most recent patrol, her body had felt particularly heavy and she had been cut across her cheek before successfully decapitating the demon. It was worrisome, but all she could think about was how to stay out of Shinobu’s way after speaking so carelessly to her. To avoid speaking so carelessly to anyone again. Even the gentle tugs against her pinky couldn’t bring her solace.

Her avoidance would not continue to stand unchallenged however, because she eventually received a summons to the Butterfly Estate from Shinobu herself. She couldn’t possibly say no, even if she was afraid of what Shinobu wanted to say.

Aoi lead her to a training room when she arrived and knocked on the door.

“Come in.” Mitsuri heard Shinobu call from within, and her heart ached having not heard the sweet voice in so long. Though it didn’t sound quite as sweet as she recalled. Mitsuri swallowed thickly. Shinobu was definitely upset with her, as she should be.

To Mitsuri’s dismay, Aoi went about her business, leaving her to open the door and face the music on her own. Inhaling deeply, she slowly pried open the door.

“Excuse me… Hello, Shinobu-chan. You wanted to see me?”

“Hello, Kanroji-san. Yes, I’m so glad you could make it.”

Mitsuri broke into a cold sweat. She had never heard Shinobu sound quite so cold. She wasn’t even smiling. She could be as terrifying as she was beautiful and it made Mitsuri’s heart stutter in her chest.

Shinobu brought Mitsuri’s attention to her hands as she picked up the two bamboo practice swords that had been sitting on the floor in front of her. She leapt to her feet and tossed one of the rods to Mitsuri who just barely managed to catch it, fumbling with it between her hands.

“Can you spar with me for a round?” Shinobu asked monotonously, already pointing her bamboo sword at Mitsuri’s chest.

“Wait, eep!”

Before Mitsuri could blink, Shinobu had knocked the sword free from her hands in one fell swoop and sent it clattering to the floor.

“That wasn’t even half of what my best strike could be, Kanroji-san. You should have dodged or countered that blow easily.” Shinobu shared gravely, “Your breathing is off, your skin looks sickly,” she stepped closer as she spoke, analyzing, “your cheeks have hollowed, you’ve gotten hurt…” Shinobu carefully ran the back of her hand over Mitsuri’s scratched cheek, her expression still stern despite the level of care she took in touching Mitsuri’s face, “Have you not been eating properly?”

“I…” Mitsuri tried to swallow but found her mouth suddenly dry. She attempted to clear her throat instead, looking down at her fidgety hands.

Shinobu took those hands into her own and Mitsuri looked over Shinobu’s string longingly, but even if she did wrap her string enough to find Shinobu at the other end of it, would she deserve her after what she had said so thoughtlessly?

“You are such a talented slayer, Kanroji-san. Your height, muscles and flexibility make your body naturally powerful.” Shinobu rubbed her thumbs over the back of Mitsuri’s hands, creating goosebumps across her skin, “You are also honest and endlessly kind. You have all the qualities of an excellent Hashira. So why,” Mitsuri could almost detect a tremor in Shinobu’s voice, “why are you making yourself weaker, Kanroji-san?”

Mitsuri’s breath hitched and she broke, she latched onto Shinobu and apologized. Explaining everything she had been agonizing over for the last several weeks. Shinobu let her vent and listened intently while she stroked Mitsuri’s back.

“And that’s just me! Kanroji Mitsuri, the girl who doesn’t always think before she speaks, the glutton, the muscle freak, the girl who can’t help but love everyone she sees! But I— I love you the most, Shinobu-chan! And that’s why the thought of my words hurting you is the worst feeling I can think of!”

Shinobu swallowed, grateful for yet another reason Mitsuri could not see her face while pressed so snuggly to the older girl’s chest. “Kanroji-san, your reasoning for joining the corps did not upset me. It surprised me, yes, but never did I think any less of you for it.”

Shinobu pulled back from the embrace enough from Mitsuri to look up at her, hoping the heat in her cheeks wasn’t as visible as it felt, “If we only let bitterness and sadness drive us, we would not be able to keep moving forward. Your cheerful personality and bright smile brings light to the darkness that threatens to swallow us, Kanroji-san. You remind us of what so many of us are fighting to protect.”

“Shinobu-chan!” Mitsuri’s eyes welled up with new tears and she pulled Shinobu right back in.

“Promise me you’ll go back to the proper nutrition intake we discussed.”

“I will!”

“Iguro-san was very worried about you too. He was emitting the most threatening aura when he told me he suspected you were upset.”

“I will apologize to him too, and everyone else! I’m sorry if he made you feel uncomfortable at all.”

“No, he was right to be a little short with me. I have been so focused on my lab work and the infirmary that I didn’t notice that you had been hurting and for that I cannot apologize to you enough. I will make a conscious effort to check in on you more frequently in the future.”

“You don’t have to!” Mitsuri stammered. The last thing she wanted was for Shinobu to feel like she had to babysit her.

“I want to,” Shinobu absent-mindedly fixed Mitsuri’s bangs back into place, an almost dreamy expression crossed her face, but Mitsuri had blinked and missed it, “You are very important to me, Kanroji-san.”

Mitsuri blushed a pretty pink hue. Shinobu was too good to be true.

“Now,” Shinobu clapped, her cold demeanor from when Mitsuri first entered had nearly thawed completely away, “lunch time! I had the girls working overtime in the kitchen. You had better eat as much as you can, or else!” Shinobu smiled, jabbing at the air with her fist.

Mitsuri nodded vigorously while shaking like a leaf. She certainly didn’t want to lose Shinobu’s smile again so soon.

It was the best Mitsuri had felt in weeks, like a huge weight had been lifted from her chest and she could finally breathe deeply again. Being able to eat with Shinobu and the other butterfly girls, Mitsuri already felt her strength returning. She couldn’t have been happier. She couldn’t show her appreciation through words alone, making sure to hug everyone tightly several times.

Mitsuri laid back on the floor, after finishing her last bowl. She hadn’t felt so full in what felt like ages. Shinobu offered her more, but she really couldn’t eat another bite. Shinobu scrutinized her, hovering agonizingly close to Mitsuri’s face a long moment before pulling back, satisfied.

Mitsuri wished she could stay longer, but Urara came tumbling through the nearby window to alert her of a new mission.

“You must be careful, Kanroji-san,” Shinobu fussed over Mitsuri as she went to see her off, “One good meal alone will not make up for weeks of neglect.”

“I’ll be careful Shinobu-chan, I promise. Thank you for today.”

“You’re welcome. Please come again, for any reason. No matter how small it may seem.”

Mitsuri hugged Shinobu once more. She wished she could stay longer. Though the red strings never hindered anyone’s path, she felt like hers was tangled up within the mansion, making it all the more difficult to leave the safe haven. She had taken maybe ten steps away when Shinobu called from the engawa.

“You don’t need to pretend to be anyone else, Kanroji-san,” Shinobu reminded, “I love you most when you are you.”

Mitsuri was so stunned, that she almost missed the tug on her string, pulling her pinky back towards the mansion. She pivoted quickly, just in time to watch Shinobu hide her hands behind her back, a coy smile on her lips.

“Be safe!” She ordered once again with a musical lilt to her voice, already heading back inside while Mitsuri gaped at her back.

Was Shinobu… could she really be, but then, where was she going?! Shouldn’t they talk about this?! The timing couldn’t be worse, Shinobu! What a tease!

“I— I will!” Mitsuri shouted, ”I’ll get it done really fast and I’ll tell you all about it!”

Shinobu paused in her closing of the door and peeked at Mitsuri from behind it, “I look forward to it.”

***

Mitsuri completed her mission without any complications, which was a relief considering her mind had been on Shinobu most of the time. If Mitsuri understood correctly and Shinobu somehow knew they were soulmates, why hadn’t she said anything before? Even more confusing was when Mitsuri came back, she expected, uh, well, something to be different, but Shinobu didn’t bring up the moment they had, nor did she treat Mitsuri any differently.

If the memory wasn’t so vivid, so fresh in Mitsuri’s mind, she would have thought she had only imagined the connection she had with Shinobu. It couldn’t be anyone else, and if by some very slim chance Shinobu wasn’t her soulmate, if Shinobu still wanted her, Mitsuri was as good as hers.

Mitsuri was sweating buckets when she arrived at the Butterfly Estate unannounced after agonizing over how to breech the topic of soulmates with Shinobu for several days. Part of her was still wishing Shinobu would bring it up first, but as time continued to pass, it became clear that it simply wasn’t going to happen.

She was walking stiffly past the estate’s garden when she realized her name was being called. That’s when she noticed Shinobu had been outside tending to the medicinal herb section of her garden. Moonlight, sunlight, she looked so beautiful always!

“Kanroji-san, are you alright? I called your name five times just now.” Shinobu rose to her feet, removing her gardening gloves while she observed Mitsuri for any obvious injuries.

“I-I’m okay!” She stammered in reply, rocking stiffly from toe to heel, hands clasped tightly together behind her back.

Shinobu tossed her gloves into the wicker basket at her feet and closed the distance, teasingly circling Mitsuri to be sure she was, at the very least, physically well. She came to a stop in front of Mitsuri, only a few steps between them.

“Hmm, you do look a lot better than you did a few weeks ago. Any particular reason for this visit, or did you just miss me?” And as if the words weren’t enough to make Mitsuri blush, Shinobu’s smile quirked a little higher on one side making it into a bit of a smirk.

Mitsuri swallowed audibly and took in a shuttering breath. It was now or never! She could do this! She had basically told Shinobu already that she loved her more than anyone else, it couldn’t be that hard to say it again!

“Shinobu-chan, I think you are my soulmate!”

Shinobu blinked, mildly surprised, but still smiled easily.

“I thought we had already established that, but it’s good to have reminders I suppose.”

“Wuh—“ Mitsuri squawked, “Then why haven’t we talked about it more! Why haven’t we been doing… you know, soulmate things?”

“Soulmate things?” Shinobu chuckled.

“Well, yes, like being together more often, holding hands… maybe kiiieeeeyah!” Mitsuri covered her face in her hands, she had almost said too much. She couldn’t just insinuate that they should kiss right this moment, where would be the romance in that?

“Kanroji-san, nothing has to change between us simply because we are soulmates.” Shinobu said, busying herself by inspecting a wilt-y looking flower, “Platonic soulmates are common enough and just as impactful. You don’t have to force yourself to act any differently with me.”

Mitsuri slowly slid her hands down her face, stopping just over her mouth, keeping it covered while she observed Shinobu. Mitsuri hadn’t considered platonic soulmates, but she really, really didn’t think that was the case. Not for her at least. Mitsuri suddenly felt a chill settle in her chest.

“Do you… not love me, Shinobu-chan?”

Shinobu jerked her head back towards Mitsuri, her mask almost slipping. Mitsuri still detected a bit of wild worry in Shinobu’s eyes as she quickly worked to reassure Mitsuri.

“Of course I love you,” smile shallow, almost forced, “I want to support you in any way that I can. I just,” she sighed quietly, “Your dreams for a romantic partner are ones that I cannot personally fulfill.”

“No they aren’t?!” Mitsuri was confused as she was affronted on Shinobu’s behalf despite those words coming right out of the girl’s own mouth. Shinobu was perfect! “What are you talking about?”

“Perhaps I’ve said too much.“

“I don’t think you’re saying enough, actually! Please Shinobu, tell me what you mean.”

Shinobu’s fingers twitched in agitation. Why was Mitsuri being so reluctant to take the out she had provided? This was already hard enough for her as it currently stood. She knelt to the ground once more and went back to her pruning to give her hands something to do.

“I’m just not a good match for you that way. I’m not taller than you, nor am I stronger than you, and I am no man. You have said you hoped your soulmate was something along those lines before. I cannot fulfill that role, but I can support you in other ways as your friend.”

Mitsuri paled. She had said things like that before, hadn’t she? Did she find those attributes attractive? Yes. But she also loved how easy it was to swallow Shinobu up in a hug, how easy it was to pick her up and spin her around, how soft and feminine she was. Those attributes were just as attractive if not even more so just because it was Shinobu, and there was so much more about the Insect Hashira that Mitsuri loved. She made sure to tell Shinobu just that.

She fell to her knees beside Shinobu, pulling her in and trapping her to her body with arms and legs. She fell sideways when Shinobu tried to separate from her, cuddling her within an inch of her life.

“Kanroji-san!” Shinobu tried to sit back up, but Mitsuri would not let her move away.

“It’s true that I like those things, Shinobu-chan, but I also told you that I love you most of all! Remember?”

“Well, yes, I do recall,” Shinobu blushed, trying to hide her face from Mitsuri’s unusually close and intense stare, “you tend to get ahead of yourself when you are too excited or flustered—“

“I meant what I said, don’t try to explain it away.” Mitsuri warned. It was the most severe tone Shinobu had ever heard from her. “When I first met you, I couldn’t believe such a beautiful girl could exist. I was captivated by you.”

Shinobu tried to avert her eyes, but Mitsuri cupped her face in her hand, tilting it back towards her.

“On top of being the most beautiful person I know, you are also the smartest. The way you make poison to destroy demons is nothing short of incredible. And even though you are super kind and sweet normally, you won’t hesitate to tell someone off if they’re in the wrong. I think you are so cool!”

“Kanroji-san, this is too much…”

“I’m in love with you, Shinobu. If you want to keep things the same, I will find a way to cope, but don’t hold yourself back because you think it’s what I want, it isn’t. I want you.” Mitsuri stroked her thumb over the heated skin of Shinobu’s cheek and whispered, “Do you want me?”

Shinobu’s tongue darted out briefly to wet her lips. She didn’t miss how Mitsuri’s eyes followed the movement and felt even more warm than she already did trapped in her arms, directly beneath the midday sun. Mitsuri was waiting ever so patiently for an answer, but it took Shinobu a couple false starts before she could answer the query truthfully.

“I do.” She croaked, wincing at the sound of her uneven voice. Mitsuri was wrong, she wasn’t cool at all!

“I’ve never seen you so red Shinobu-chan.” Mitsuri cooed. “You look so cute.”

“Kanroji, please.” Shinobu wanted to crawl into a dark corner until she could remember how to control her face again. She felt too exposed.

“Shinobu, look!” Mitsuri gasped excitedly, raising her hand to the sky.

The red string glowed and constricted, leaving only about half a foot of of yarn between them.

“What am I supposed to be looking at?” Shinobu raised her arm to block the sun, “Is there a bird?”

Ah, that’s right. Shinobu wouldn’t be able to see the string, would she?

“Oh, no, um, nevermind.” Mitsuri retracted her elation with a sheepish giggle.

“Tell me, please. You sounded so excited.”

Mitsuri considered denying her request, but Shinobu looked so genuinely curious. She decided to tell her.

“I’ve been able to see the red strings of fate since I was little. I forgot that no one else can see them sometimes.” Mitsuri half expected Shinobu to tease or give her an incredulous look, but she did not.

“What does it look like?”

“A thin, bright red yarn. The length extends and contracts and slithers like it’s alive. Sometimes it glows. Right now it’s glowing, and the lead is very short.” To demonstrate, Mitsuri moved her hand away and Shinobu felt a tug, a bit stronger than the tugs she had received growing up, she smiled.

“Incredible.”

“Ah, well, I think it did me more harm than good at times. My parents still don’t believe me. I often thought it would have been better if I couldn’t see them like everyone else.”

“Ah yes, the soulmate imposter.” Shinobu’s brow furrowed marginally. “What I wouldn’t give to have five minutes alone with him.”

“Unless he turned into a demon, I don’t think that would be a good idea.” Mitsuri shivered imperceivably. Threatening the people who harmed her was something both Shinobu and Obanai shared.

“He’s already a demon by my standards,” Shinobu booped Mitsuri’s nose an attempt to lighten the heavy aura that she herself was pushing, “I think the ability suits you.”

“How so?”

“Strings of fate, love, the human connection, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were somehow a descendent of Yue Lao himself. It’s just so very you, Love Hashira.”

Mitsuri snuggled Shinobu tighter, a delighted squeak left her when Shinobu wiggled her arms free from between them to return the embrace. They continued to lay together under the sun in the sweet smelling garden, talking in hushed voices as soft as the breeze. Shinobu’s fingers brushed Mitsuri’s jaw as she asked a cautious question, ultimately closing the short gap between them when Mitsuri gave her already breathless answer.

#demon slayer oneshots #kny oneshots #shinomitsuweek2023 #shinomitsu #shinobu x mitsuri #shinobu kochou #shinobu kocho #mitsuri kanroji

64 notes · View notes

hoffmannwrites · 1 year

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On My List

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 + 1 Masterlist

Author’s Note: OMG this is the last part. I can't believe I actually finished a fic?? who am I??? anywho, this part gets a little hot and heavy, so just a warning there. Nothing super explicit, but like dicks are mentioned. Thank you for reading alone and indulging me!!

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson

Description: 5 Times Steve and Eddie kiss as friends, and one time they don't.

Warnings/Tags: Everyone lives, Nobody dies, 5+1, Kissing, Fluff, Idiots to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, heavy petting, brief sex talk, gay stereotypes, brief mention of Upside Down induced PTSD and panic attacks, uhhh they're gay your honor, no beta we die like Barb, let me know if I missed anything?

I Think We're Alone Now

+ 1

There’s only so many platonic kisses from a super hot jock that a single-braincelled gay man can take. And 5 is the limit. Eddie has been absolutely losing it since he high tailed it out of the last sticky situation he was in with Steve, still trying to wrap his brain around what the fuck was happening. He’s gone back and forth between a bunch of different theories, but usually ends up ping-ponging between “Steve is just a very affectionate friend who is comfortable in his heterosexuality” and “Steve keeps kissing me for a reason”. Eddie refuses to acknowledge the fact that this reason is because Steve actually likes kissing other boys in a very gay, very homosexual way, refuses to even toy with the idea that Steve likes him in that kind of way. But even though he fully believes it is actually impossible, Eddie has been mildly avoiding Steve for the past few weeks. Not totally! But anytime that Eddie isn’t sure if Robin is also working, he waits to return his tapes until he’s sure she is. And anytime Steve calls to invite Eddie over for movie night or to do something with the kids or anything, Eddie makes sure he leaves early enough that he’s not the last one standing. Makes sure he only goes into the kitchen for a snack when someone else is already in there. It’s just safer this way, he thinks. He doesn’t have to deal with the issue if it’s never really an issue, right? Doesn’t have to answer or ask any questions if he and Steve aren’t alone together for them to come up.

However, Steve isn’t a complete fucking idiot and notices something is up. It takes him a little while, assuming Eddie is just busy with the band or D&D for a couple weeks before he really starts to notice the pattern. But once he does, he’s worried. Worried because he knows what Eddie’s been through in the past year, knows from personal experience how hard it is to live in "the after" of that. He knows that sometimes it can take a long time to really process and show any signs of PTSD, knows it can get even worse around the anniversary of the event (which is right about…now actually). And above all of it, he knows how fucking lonely it is, how hard it is to try to do it by yourself. I mean, hell, Steve didn’t really have anyone to talk to until Robin came around, because it was just too weird with Jonathan and Nancy, and the kids were just kids. And even after he had Robin, he still had to go home sometimes. Usually to an empty house. And even if it wasn’t empty, it’s not like he could tell his parents what was going on, just had to put on a brave face and blame his weird mood on a failed algebra test or a bad day at work. So yeah, he’s no stranger to having to go through all this shit alone and trying to just deal with the impossible- with the way his scars itch and he always feels like there’s something just around the corner and the ringing in his ears sometimes and the migraines and the way his chest starts to tighten when he thinks about any of it too hard. And Steve is determined to make sure Eddie doesn’t have to go through that alone, not like he did.

So they have a movie night. It’s supposed to be Eddie’s turn to pick, but he’s waiting for the new Evil Dead to get in at Family Video, so they let El pick and she chooses The Goonies (after some helpful suggestions from Robin), which no one is opposed to because it’s fricking The Goonies. And they're at the point where Chunk is telling the Fratellis about everything bad he’s ever done when Steve gets up and goes to the kitchen to make more popcorn. He hates yelling during the movie, but knows it’ll actually be less distracting in the long run. “Eddie can you come here and help me with something?” He knows Eddie is about to complain, ask why someone else can’t do it, he can feel it in his bones like a sixth sense, so he continues. “I need someone tall.” He knows Argyle is actually the tallest out of the group, but he’s been passed out in the recliner since the Truffle Shuffle. He also knows Eddie will never resist an opportunity to remind everyone that he is exactly one inch taller than Steve and yes it matters.

Eddie hops up from his spot on the floor, too blinded by his own ego to see this is obviously a trap. Steve would never ask him for help to reach something, his pride would prevent him. But Eddie is in the kitchen now, and Steve is pointing to the cabinet above the fridge “there’s more popcorn in there, I just can’t reach it.”

“Aw, too short down there in under 6-foot land? Don’t worry, I’ll get it for you, seeing that I’m the tallest man in the world,” Eddie says, patting Steve on the head patronizingly.

“In the world?” Steve just repeats, in disbelief at how Eddie’s ego knows no bounds.

“Ever, actually,” he casually replies, handing Steve the box of Pop Secret with a smug smile.

He turns on his heel to return to the living room, but Steve grabs his wrist before he can.

“Uh, actually I wanted to talk to you for a minute.” Steve says, voice softer and eyes kinder than they were a minute ago.

Oh no. Oh no oh fuck oh shit. He was about to tell Eddie that he thought this had all gone too far and he knew Eddie had a big fat gay crush on him and that Steve was flattered but just Straight with a capital S. And that was fine! Eddie could live with that, it was honestly probably the best let down he could hope for. But it was so nice living in this delusion where every kiss with Steve didn’t have an overcast cloud of “he rejected you!” over it yet. But Eddie realizes that he’s going to have to have this conversation sooner or later. And he wants to run, oh god does he want to high tail it the fuck outta dodge, but he can’t. No more running, right?

“Ohkayyyy,” Eddie says, feigning oblivion. He decided to stay, not to face it like a man. Baby steps.

“I just uh.. I just noticed that you’ve been ya know kinda off the past few weeks." (Eddie starts to sweat) "You haven’t been around as much-" (his eyes are looking everywhere except Steve) "-and you pretty much always leave while it’s still light out-" (oh god was it that obvious that he didn’t want to be alone with Steve at night?) "- and you’re just keeping to yourself a little more.” (God he’s so fucking transparent) “I just wanted to let you know that, I get it." (Here is comes) "It’s been a year since everything and it’s never easy on the anniversary and I know it’s fucking scary but you don’t have to do this alone." (Steve is still holding his wrist) “You know, you have me and Robin and everyone else to talk to or to stay with and we get it. And I know it’s hard to talk about this shit, but you went through literal hell and that’s nothing to be ashamed of. " (Wait he’s confused) "We’re all still processing and dealing with that trauma and PTSD is super complicated, so like we’re here to talk. It helps a lot more than you think, and I just don’t want you to have to deal with all your Upside Down shit alone, okay?" (He’s still confused but putting the pieces together.)

And Eddie just stairs at Steve for a minute, computing everything Steve just said. Just stares for too long then is appropriate, probably. And Steve looks so concerned, so sincere. And Eddie can’t help but laugh. Fucking fully toothygrincan’tbreathe LAUGH. And now Steve’s a little pissed because, hey man-we all went through shit and people died and we almost died it’s not fucking funny. But before he can chastise Eddie, the taller man is apologizing. “Oh fuck I’m sorry. I’m not—that was really sweet. And I appreciate the fuck outta you. That’s just so not where I thought this conversation was going.”

Steve’s relieved. “Oh.”

Eddie’s relieved “Yeah.”

“So where did you think it was going? “

Eddie is no longer relieved. “Oh it’s nothing.”

“Because something is definitely up with you.”

Fuck. Damn Harrington and his spider sense for always knowing what’s wrong.

Eddie has a couple options. He can keep walking on eggshells, ignoring his friends, and flaking early and pretend like nothing is happening forever. (Or until his crush on Steve goes away. Which it won’t. So forever). He can stop doing that, but still avoid this conversation, and just act like nothing ever happened. (Which notably will be impossible, with the way he can’t ever take his eyes off Steve when they’re together.) Or he can face this. Right here, right now. He can tell Steve what’s going on and they can both get the fuck over it. And hell, the man saved the entire world with a guitar solo, he can face a straight boy not liking him back.

“I like you”

“Yeah I’d hope so. You’re in my home and we’ve been hanging out for like a year.”

“No like… I have, uh, romantic feelings for you. And I know you don’t feel the same and you’re straight and that’s fine, I just couldn’t keep dealing with being around you all the time and you flirting back and kissing me because even though I know it never meant anything to you, it meant something to me and was really confusing so I just had to put some distance there. And I know that you’re probably gonna be pretty upset with me for, like, being gay and letting you joke with me or whatever and that’s fine, I just, uh. Yeah. That’s why I’m being weird. The Upside Down stuff is like, completely secondary to everything else going on in my head right now.”

Steve just lets Eddie ramble. Lets him get it all out while he listens with his arms folded across his chest and eyebrows raised. Once Eddie finally finishes, finally meets Steve’s eyes, Steve can’t help but quirk his brows into the bitchiest expression he can muster.

“First of all, you gotta sort out your priorities. The anniversary of our group shadow dimension almost-death should definitely come before worrying about boys. Second of all, who told you that?”

Eddie’s a little taken aback at Steve’s nonchalance. And confused again. “Told me what?”

“Like. Half of that shit. That I’d be mad at you for flirting with me? That it was a joke? That I’m straight?”

Now that last one really catches Eddie off-guard. “Well. No one. But like. You are. Right? Straight I mean.”

Steve’s face is just getting more contorted as this conversation goes on. “Eddie!” He pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Who’s my favorite singer?”

“What?”

“Answer the question”

“Springsteen. Or Madonna.”

"And what’s my favorite movie?"

“You tell everyone its Animal House but its Rocky Horror.”

It’s like Eddie doesn’t even hear the words that are coming out of his own mouth. And Steve is looking at him wide eyed with an eerily similar expression to the one Robin gave him in that Star Court bathroom stall in the summer of ‘85. “Eddie…” he takes a step closer and Eddie move his eyes to meet Steve’s, brow still furrowed, ass now pressed against the countertop. Steve boxes him in, puts both hands on the counter on either side of Eddie. He wants to kiss Eddie, wants to kiss him and shut him up and drown in those stupid big eyes so fucking bad, but apparently that hasn’t worked yet! Apparently kissing 5 times is just too vague for the metal head. So Steve does what he does best, he flirts relentlessly. His mouth is inches away from Eddie’s and Eddie looks almost drunk off it, trying to follow around Steve’s eyes and lips at the same time. “Remember what you called me in the RV when you were hotwiring it last spring break?” Steve is whispering into Eddie’s blushed skin.

Eddie swallows heavily trying to focus on the meaning behind the words and not just the fact that he can feel them on his skin. “Uh…big boy?” He says, voice almost squeaking, completely void of all previous bravado or sex appeal.

“Mhm,” Steve nods slightly. “I always knew I was into guys. But you calling me that, while hot wiring a fucking trailer. It wasn’t just Johnny Depp in Nightmare on Elm Street in a crop top or Tim Curry in those fishnets anymore. It wasn’t a hypothetical anymore. It was right in front of me. It was you. A little dirty and in leather and me in your fucking vest and you grinning up at me like you didn’t know exactly what you were doing to me.” The whole time he’s making this confession, he’s whispering it straight into Eddie’s skin. He’s getting impossibly closer and ghosting over ever where Eddie needs him. But they’re crotch to crotch at this point and Eddie can feel Steve getting half hard against him at the thought of the memory and Eddie is quick to follow in his footsteps. Eddie is silent, eyes half closed and just relishing at Steve being all over him. “Eds..” Steve practically licks up Eddie’s neck, getting only a hum that sounds like a question back. He removes his right hand from its place on the counter and brings it to Eddie’s chin, gripping it just enough to shock him into opening his eyes and really looking at Steve. “Kiss me.”

Eddie doesn’t need to be told twice. His hands are in Steve’s hair, his shoulders his waist, his ass, just moving trying to feel all of him. Steve is pressing him into the counter so hard now Eddie thinks there might be a bruise across the backs of his thighs, but he doesn’t fucking care because the way the front of their bodies press together is worth everything. Steve’s hands are in Eddie’s hair now, tugging just right and Eddie’s mouth opens enough to let Steve bite his bottom lip and tug. And Eddie almost moans out loud, but catches himself just in time. “Steve.” Now it’s his turn to return a noncommittal hum. “Steve-“ Eddie says more pointedly this time, pulijng him back just slightly by his pockets. Before Steve can protest, before he can let out the whine he's on the verge of, Eddie reminds him of their current situation. “There are kids in the other room. And if you keep going, I’m going to cream my jeans in your kitchen.” Steve loves the idea of Eddie cumming in his pants for him, if he’s being honest, but understands the issue. “Stay the night?” He asks with a few more kisses to Eddie’s neck. “You’ll be lucky if you ever get rid of me again” and Eddie has to practically drag Steve back to the living room, where they’re now sitting almost on top of each other on the floor against the couch. It takes about 10 minutes before the kids realize they never brought back popcorn and Nancy decides to go do it her damn self.

A/N:

The Goonies came out in June of 1985. It’s a banger. I think that El would really like it because it’s got adventure and friendship and bad guys who get what’s coming to them and has a happy ending. It remind her of her friends and she has a crush on Mikey (also rip Bob)

Popcorn was like huge in the 80s? Act 11 and Pop Secret both came out in the early 80s as microwave popcorn and so did a bunch of other brands. I didn’t know it came out so late??? Wtf??? I forget microwaves didn’t exist.

I named each of these chapters after a song from the 80s and they've all been period accurate accept for this one, which came out in August of '87 ( this would take place around March/April of '87), but it's fucking TIFFANY so I made an exception. Anywhore, here's a list of the songs in case you wanna check them out.

You Spin Me Round by Dead or Alive

Every Breath You Take by The Police

Happy New Year by Abba

Suddenly, Seymour from Little Shop of Horrors

Drive by The Cars

I Think We're Alone Now by Tiffany

Thank you for reading my little fic, gay people in my phone! Feel free to follow my fandom Twitter @ hauntedvaginas , check me out on Ao3 @ hoffmannwrites or shoot me DM here if you ever wanna be my friend. I love you and I'm kissing you on the forehead.

#fluff #stranger things #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things au #rattwrites #steve harrington #5 + 1 #5 + 1 fic #steddie fanfic #smut if you squint #idiots to lovers

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tobiasdrake · 5 months

Text

This is it. The final story of Rain Code: Chapter Yakou.

AND IT'S POST-GAME OKAY LET'S GO. We're not here to tell a story about Yakou. We're here to tell a story about Feral Yakou.

Hold up, is Yakou's wife here?

When was she murdered? Was it before or after the Blank Week? Huesca and Yomi were doing their espionage for five years, and the Blank Week was three years ago. So it could go either way.

Oh man. I hope she's here. Yakou and his wife can form a hunting duo and spend the rest of their feral days (eternity or however long until a cure can be devised) hunting Huesca and murdering him together over and over again.

We get to control his shambling. This is great. Wonder if we'll get to hang out with any of the other ferals?

Yakou's being psychologically attacked by Yuma's recent visit. What is going through his head? Something is happening to him physiologically; You can tell because his body started smoking from this memory.

I hope he's healing. If Yakou can recover from being feral then that will mean there's hope for the others. Most importantly the Theater Girls + Aiko.

A memory from before he went feral! He still has his memories! Which. I suppose. Was obvious from the way he had enough presence of mind to hand that disc off to Yuma. But still!

Also, LOL Desuhiko. You died first.

I mean, you didn't. Nobody died. It was fake. But Makoto ran the numbers with his genius super-brain and the order he came up with for how things would have gone was, "Desuhiko lasts five seconds. Because obviously." And he was right.

Are all of these glimpses from the side stories? Because Fubuki never interacted with Yakou during hers, so she might get snubbed here. We should probably--

--watch where we're going instead of musing about Halara and Fubuki. Look, stairs are hard when you're barely even conscious.

Deeper into Umbrella Labs we go. Now that I think about it, Yakou's wife might not be a homunculus. She could just as easily be a ghost. If she did die before the Blank Week, she would have died in this lab, not the decoy Restricted Area that Makoto tried to pass off as this place.

Of course, if she was a ghost, you'd think she'd seek out the company of the human Yakou's ghost, rather than his homunculus. I dunno.

Aww, there's Bestie. This was from his final moments.

Oh wow, check out that detail on her choker. It's a set of VCR buttons. That's amazing. I never noticed that before.

Yakou. Yakou. You need to return to full sentience. Your best pal needs you. Yakou!

There she is! The woman from the photo! I don't remember if we know her name or not but it's her! The second-most important relationship Yakou has, after Vivia!

...to me, I mean. Important to me. I am invested in exactly two relationships in Yakou's life, and this is one of them.

So what's the verdict, lady? Ghost, homunculus, or feral hallucination?

Not an answer! In what form are you waiting? I want to know!

Man, I don't even know what this chapter is going to be like. How do you wring an entire chapter of story out of this? Is she here to provide Yakou solace in his feral time? To heal him? What is plot?

OH APPARENTLY THAT'S HOW. We're in for a full-on examination of Yakou and his wife's history, I guess.

Oh wow, Yakou does not look good in broad daylight. Bright light brings out the dazed bewilderment in his resting expression.

Is the WDO not writing their checks? This is two years before Kanai Ward became an isolated city-state.

The sad thing is, people actually believe stuff like that. There's this weird trust that some people have for corporations like Disney or Walmart. It's a product of hierarchical ways of thinking.

There is an idea that's been around for the whole of human history, that some people are simply better than us and that a society led by its superior humans will surely prosper. This idea of naturally gifted ubermensch is responsible for the Divine Right of Kings. It's responsible for a lot of gross ethnic philosophies. It thrives in our media through Chosen One narratives and the romanticization of monarchy, both of which date back thousands of years.

It's specifically what the climax of Rain Code centers on, with Makoto insisting that if he, the Greatest Intelligence, can't solve this problem then no one can. And Yuma coming in with, "Maybe you should stop being so infatuated with the idea of being the Savior Ubermensch and realize that other people's opinions and beliefs have value too."

And it emerges in the relationship that some people have with capitalism. There is an idea that the capitalists should rule because their ability to amass wealth is evidence of a superior intelligence. They hustled harder and smarter than us all because they are the Superior Man, and if we simply surrender control to them, they will use their supreme intelligence to lead us into a prosperous future.

What it amounts to in practice is clinging to the surcoat of a billionaire hoping to catch a coin that falls from his overstuffed pockets.

Man, it is wild to see Yakou as the one being talked down to for trying to do detective shit.

I wonder what ever happened to Colleague Detective. Do you think he's the Peacekeeper that Halara drowned in front of the office-sub? I'm gonna imagine he is.

Dammit, Yakou. When you're being shaken down by the mob, don't vocalize things that sound like "I'm physically vulnerable so now would be a good time!"

HEY! Not cool!

Yakou might be a heteronormative tool but he's our heteronormative tool. I was going to make a joke that I hope you were one of the guys Fubuki drowned but actually, no. I hope you used your mob connections to dodge Amaterasu's blood "tests".

The nerve on this man, to politely request a payment extension from a mob boss that is actively beating the shit out of him. Yakou has no self-preservation instinct at all.

This is the face of a man bold enough to put out a hit on himself so no one would know that he poisoned himself to death. The bruised and bloody face of such a man.

#master detective archives: rain code #drake plays rain code #yakou furio

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casspurrjoybell-17 · 5 months

Text

Heart’s Choice - Chapter 27 - Part 2

*Warning Adult Content*

Later that morning, after the sun is full and safely up and the night of the ritual has passed, Ian Foley drives me home to the garage.

Gravel crunches beneath his truck's tires as he pulls into the work yard and parks.

"You don't have to come with me," I say, pulling my backpack from the back seat of the cab.

"I'll be fine."

"I'm sure you will. But two sets of eyes are better than one and you've only got one good arm. I'll just have a sniff around. Make sure nobody's been here while you were gone."

"Thanks, Ian," I say, suddenly realizing how grateful I am for the gesture.

"You're a good friend."

He takes my backpack from me and slings it over his own shoulder, ruffling my hair.

"Yeah, yeah. And you're a pain in the ass but we love ya anyway."

Thankfully, everything is as I left it and Ian detects nothing unusual.

His senses are less keen in his human form than they are as a bear but his human form is less apt to draw attention.

Bears aren't unusual in Spring Lakes but Ian's resembles a grizzly, a species which has been extinct in this state for nearly a century.

I don't want to have to explain why one might be wandering around outside my shop.

"Place seems secure," he says, inspection complete.

"You sure you wanna stay here, though? I mean, you're still renting from a lady who might want to kill you, remember?"

"I haven't forgotten. But the less Lucille suspects I know, the better. Besides, she's like eighty years old. What's she gonna do? Beat me with her cane?"

Ian sighs.

"Carlos, be real. You're from a family of demon hunters, you're friends with an encyclopedia's worth of supernaturals and there's a vampire after your ass, if not your heart. You should know things aren't always what they seem. Besides, from what you described, what happened to Kyle took some effort. If the old lady has anything to do with it, she's either stronger than she looks or she had help."

"I'll be fine," I say. "The next ritual's not for another two weeks, assuming the Feast of Blood was even performed. I'm safe until then, at least."

"If you say so."

He casts a last look around the garage and scuffs his boot over a crack in the concrete floor.

"Oughta get that fixed 'fore it spreads," he says, clearly reluctant to leave me on my own.

"Yeah," I agree.

"Unfortunately, one condition of the lease is that I can't make any changes to the place without Lucille's permission, including repairs."

"Have you asked about this? A crack like this means you got a weak foundation. Could be a pocket of soft soil, could be erosion. Either way, if it spreads, it could compromise the whole structure. Then you're in big shit. County could condemn the whole thing, 'specially since it's zoned as commercial. It's worth having someone come an' take a look, anyway."

Being in the construction business, Ian should know what he's talking about and I eye the crack with renewed suspicion.

"You know, it does look bigger than it did before. I guess I could..."

A whole rack of socket wrenches drops from the wall, landing with a clatter that has me jumping out of my skin and practically into Ian's arms, like a character in an old cartoon.

"Whoa. You okay?"

"Yeah."

I catch my breath and step away from him.

"Guess you're right, though. Kyle seems to agree with you, anyway."

"Kyle? Is he here now?" Ian asks, glancing around nervously.

I look askance at the corner where, as long as I don't look directly at him, I can see Kyle watching us.

"Yeah. I'm not alone after all, see?"

To my surprise, Ian seems a little creeped out by the idea and leaves pretty quickly after that.

I follow him out and wave as he drives off, feeling a stab of loneliness as his truck vanishes from sight.

For a while I just stand there, feeling the mid morning sun on my face and the breeze in my hair and letting thought swirl around my brain like a flock of restless birds.

My cell-phone buzzes and I pull it out to check.

I've got two notifications.

One is from a random app, offering me a special bonus deal because... Fuck.

What a depressing way to remember a birthday.

Especially my own.

The second is a text from John.

My heart leaps a little, despite myself but the message is unsentimental, short and to-the-point.

John: No deaths reported last night. All public areas in town are clear. Need your expertise. Please advise if ritual must take place outdoors.

I hesitate, both a little happy that he asked,and a little unsure what to make of the businesslike tone.

I decide to match it, colleague to colleague and ignore everything else for now as I type my reply.

Carlos: Yes. The same place as the first would be best. Otherwise, nearby in a significant location.

I hit send and wait.

After a moment, the three dots appear, telling me John is typing.

Then they stop.

Then they start again, then disappear.

Finally, I accept he's not going to reply, pocket my cell-phone and blow out a breath as I run a hand through my hair.

I did ask him for space.

On the one hand, it looks like the Feasts might be a dead end and between Kyle's ex-girlfriend and Lucille, we've got plenty of leads.

On the other hand, my aunt is missing and my love life is on the rocks.

I shake my head at myself.

"Tonto. (Fool.) You're so desperate for someone to love you, to have what Ian and Sam have and when it comes along, you freak out and push it away."

I sigh and watch as a trio of crows fly overhead and disappear among the trees on the other side of the road.

Then I head back inside to clean out the ten-day-old trash and the rotten food in the fridge, which Ian was too polite to mention smelled like absolute fucking shit.

Happy birthday to me.

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i-love-an-alcoholic · 8 months

Text

Story of M: How I became an addict, Part One

CONTENT WARNING: Alcohol and drug abuse

Edit: I want to add that alcohol withdrawal is potentially lethal and should NEVER be attempted without consulting a medical professional!

I began using alcohol as a coping mechanism at age 17. I was an outcast at school. My parents' marriage was nothing but a facade and my mother took her frustrations about their impending divorce out on me. I had very little hope for the future and being told I'd never amount to anything did not help. I had always dreamed of becoming a visual artist but felt I had no talent at all and I was doomed to fail at everything I tried. I had been diagnosed with depression at 14 and received counseling for it which was a positive, but as soon as the bi-weekly session was over I had to return to my regular life which was becoming more and more unbearable every day.

My parents didn't drink a lot, but we had a fairly well-stocked liquor cabinet full of souvenir bottles from my father's travels. "Nobody's going to drink these anyway", I thought and took some of the bottles and hid them in my closet. After my parents and sibling went to bed, I'd take a bottle and force its contents down my throat. My room was on the opposite side of our apartment from other bedrooms and it also had a convenient second bathroom right next to it, so when I had had too much I could throw up discreetly without waking them up.

I did this multiple times a week. My grades went down because I was groggy and hung over at school. One time I took a whole bottle of champagne and went outside to drink it. I was sitting on a park bench next to a playground, drinking straight from the bottle, all alone.

Legal drinking age is 18 where I live, and oddly enough, turning 18 slowed down my drinking. I didn't have to drink my parents' booze or hide my alcohol use any longer, but I had to buy it myself and store it in the fridge where my mother would see and comment about it. Things were pretty good for a while. I graduated from school with average grades, managed to get into a university and moved out at 19, at the same time my parents divorced.

I failed hard at uni. After two years, at 21, I changed schools into a more practical one, and for the first time in a long time, felt good about myself. I did well academically and was popular within our group. I even got a good friend, J. J was a party dude and we partied a lot, more than everybody else. Despite that everything was good for a year or so.

At the time I was in a relationship with a very troubled guy (I could go on forever about him, but I digress) who got into designer drugs and convinced me to try them too. To this day I have no idea what the stuff even was, but I believe it was a synthetic cannabinoid. I was sold. I took that stuff daily for several weeks, while neglecting my schoolwork. After that I would actively seek drugs in addition to binge drinking 2 to 3 times a week.

Despite this I managed to get my degree and landed a fairly well-paid job straigh out of school. I had to move cities for my job, but stayed in a long-distance relationship with the aforementioned troubled guy mainly because of his contacts. My job was at times very stressful, which I used to justify my binge drinking and occasional drug use. Work hard, party harder and so forth. I was around 26 when I began to notice negative side effects of binge drinking: I was overweight, bloated, irritable when sober and had scary hangovers. I tried to quit drinking, but found out I couldn't do it for more than a week.

Since I couldn't quit on my own, I went to see a doctor and asked for an Antabus (disulfiram) prescription which he happily gave to me. I know that Antabus does not work for everybody but it helped me immensely. At first everything was terrible, but after some weeks it got easier and easier until all the cravings were completely gone and I felt like a new person. All's well that ends well, right?

Wrong. To be continued.

#i love an alcoholic #tw alcoholism #tw drugs

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mishkakagehishka · 2 years

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waitwait. zombie au mika again.

imagine if the virus is actually suuuper slow. you're never 100% sure if you have it or not (unless you get bitten, of course, but through other means? the uncertainty could kill...) until it sets in, and by then you're doomed. so. mika gets a wound. everyone brushes it off - it's just a little scratch, nothing to worry about! weeks, months go by. nothing has happened, and everyone has relaxed. mika will be fine! until he wakes up and the wound that he thought was just a scar has started to rot. and then he knows. he's doomed. he was infected from that first moment, and now that there's symptoms? there's no salvation for him. where does he go from there? does he try to live out his last few days as a human peacefully? say goodbye to his friends and loved ones? beg his friends, the producer, anyone to kill him before it spreads further? before he loses himself and his mind? does he simply disappear one day, leaving everyone panicked and worried until one day they see a familiar-looking zombie with mismatched eyes?

[Inhales] ... like rabies... by the time you see the symptoms it's too late. First of all, I thought about zombie virus biology soooooo much in all the years I've lived knowing ab zombies as someone prone to overthinking so let me give you a few ideas. Cut because I realised this got too long BDBDBSBS

Personally, I love TWD's idea of "everyone's infected, if you die and the brain isn't destroyed - you're becoming a zombie" aka the "the bite is really just highly effective venom that does you in, but your fate is sealed either way" theory. Although what enstars is doing fits Dead Rising a bit better, I think. Or actually Project Zomboid where if you got bitten by one while playing, you'd basically have a timer... like you could continue playing, but you were scheduled to die because of that bite. I thought that was a cool concept. But also because of Mitsuru's line especially I think the epilogue will be "lol get prank'd Producer" so who cares + it's an AU + ratio. But to the TWD theory .... if I may build upon it (this is all for this specific ask btw i prommy i'm not just saying this for no reason), if the bite is just powerful venom transferred by bodily fluids like saliva and blood (and this is what bothered me about zombie media that implied this - nobody ever cares ab zombie-bloodied weapons coming into contact with their open wounds!! You can get hepatitis like that, nevermind zombified!!) then we can assume that any mixing of a zombie's bodily fluids with your own could cause you to contract the virus. So, for example, if you grow desperate enough to eat a zombie? Prion disease is the least of your worries. Or - in Mika's case?

I think. I'm sorry I love making him cry. I think Mika is a very emotional person. He's a slave to his emotions, he's impulsive, he's prone to panicking. In a zombie apocalypse, you'll have plenty opportunity to get cuts, whether you don't know how to properly wield some tools or weapons, or you're trying to traverse terrain/climb objects or, fuck it, you just accidentally cut yourself on a thorn or whatever. Mika is clumsy. Mika cannot see in the dark. Mika absolutely slashes open his arm on a fence trying to climb it while running away. He returns from the supply run covered in tears and snot because he's hurt badly. Faints from bloodloss badly. But they question him (you didn't get bitten or torn by a zombie, did you?) and he swears he didn't, the reason his arm is fucked is because he didn't let himself get bit. So they wait it out. Let me be cruel. They don't give him painkillers or patch him up until they're certain he's not infected - because why waste supplies on a dead man?

But what Mika didn't know is that zombies got cut up on that fence, too. It was a dangerous fence. When he slashed his arm open, all the bacteria got in. The dormant virus got in. First he becomes delirious when his arm gets infected, just, in general. Because they didn't treat it. He's begging and pleading to just give him an antibiotic or at least cut his arm off because he can't take the burning pain anymore. And the Producer probably takes pity and sneaks him antibiotics and treats him as well as they can. He's thanking them, still feverish, still delirious, straight up crying of relief. He promises them he's not infected, that they didn't waste the supplies and that he's so thankful.

He recovers - somewhat. Idk how long someone would take to recover, but they'd have a (flawed) understanding of the virus and have an approx. timespan when they'd think they're safe (FAVE part ab zombie media - when they think they know but they don't) so Mika gets released from quarantine, properly treated (and Producer gets side-eyed) and apologised to. And they think they're fine! He's recovering! They thought he was going to lose that arm, but he's actually doing okay, he can't use it well, the nerves and tendons are damaged, but he's getting by with help.

Maybe even months pass. He's smiling and laughing, he's bonding. Producer has become his best friend. They're having fun! And then one night when he's checking over his arm (he's mourning it, really, he's noticing he's losing feeling in it bit by bit, he knows he'll have to lose the arm even if he hasn't told anyone), he sees... skin chipping off. Rotting off. His heart drops into his stomach. How could this have happened? Since it was his dominant arm, they didn't even let him do supply runs again unaccompanied, there was no way he got bit?!

But it was undeniable. His hand was rotting. He checks himself over for other symptoms they were aware of. Rot. Weakness. Fatigue. Losing feeling of limbs. Slow healing. Sensitivity to the cold. Mika freaks the fuck out. He can't live out his last few days peacefully because he's hyperaware of the fact that they're his last days. There's so much he hasn't done yet! Saying goodbye to his loved ones? No way, no way. He can't burden them like that. He cries a lot. He cries so much. But he knows his days are numbered and he knows he's a danger to his friends if he stays in the camp. But he trusts the Producer. His best friend. He asks them to go on a supply run with him.

He's keeping his arm gauzed up as he leads them into the woods - he saw some abandoned camp there, he says. Deep into the woods. He asks them if they could go back to the camp on their own, without his help. They say they remembered the route - he was going straight and was marking trees with his own blood anyway. (They thought it was morbid, Mika thought "Hey, I'm not gonna need it, might as well".) He asks them if they have a weapon on them, one preferably silent that won't attract zombies. They have an axe. His breath hitches. He'd hoped for a knife, but alright.

He shows them his rotting arm. "Ya hafta do me in."

The Producer might take mercy on him and (try to) land a clean cut. (That's not happening. The axe is rusty, beheading him would take two-three swings, but they could just split his head in half.) But do they have the stomach for it? To kill their best friend so violently? But he's begging so desperately. Do they have the stomach to deny him, to leave him crying, scared, alone until he succumbs to the virus on his own in those woods? Do they... tie him up to a tree? Sit next to him? Hold his hand as he takes his final breaths? Hear him pleading with nobody, begging for it all to be a nightmare, that he'll wake up tomorrow, by Oshi-san calling him because he's late to rehearsal, that he'll see all his friends who've passed on... that he's scared of dying? Hear him chanting "I'm scared, please, I don't wanna die"? Would they squeeze his hand, trying to comfort him however futile it might be? Would "I'm right here with you" even comfort him?

When he passes, they could destroy his brain to make sure he doesn't come back. Or they could leave him be. They could honour his wish, or they could seek their own comfort in a foolish belief that a zombified Mika would mean there was still a little bit of Mika left in the world. Maybe one day, they'll find a cure. If not to return him to his human state, then at least to let him pass on. They'll give him a proper funeral then.

#for someone who used to be straight up phobic ab zombie media . i really like it nowadays...#anywyy AHWBWBSNSNSNNSNSNSNSNS #ensemble stars #zombies tw #mika zombie au #asks #death ment tw

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indigos-shits-and-giggles · 1 year

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i wanna hear abt wes!!!

Okay SO Wes is this very anxious, standoffish guy who recently moved to Hatchetfield from Clivesdale and it's generally seen as just... nice but very weird by the other citizens in Hatchetfield. Like, for some reason he rarely ever gives out its actual name, leading to his acquaintances giving it a lot of creative nicknames. Even its closest friends only know him by just Wes, and if someone annoys him enough it'll just pull an Odysseus and claim his name is Nobody. It's generally just very paranoid and rather cagey about certain bits of information about himself, even around people it DOES know and trust.

So, why the hell is it like this?

Well, waaaaaayyyyy back in the day when Wes was like four and its older brother, Ridley, was eight, he and its family actually used to live in Hatchetfield! In fact, Wes and Ridley were born there and probably have a touch of the Gift but that's not important right now. However, their parents had gotten tangled up in some pretty nasty cult bullshit and decided they needed to leave right the hell now, because they didn't want their kids getting stuck in that stuff too. So, they moved to where they knew no one would follow: CLIVESDALE.

Their childhood in Clivesdale is pretty chill all things considered. The first year or so was definitely a bit to adjust to, but Ridley made sure to look out for Wes whenever he could. Naturally this kinda led Wes to look up to him a little because, hey, Ridley Very Fucking Cool and adventurous, and he never backs down from a challenge.

However, they still got family stuck in Hatchetfield, aunts, uncles, grandparents, and cousins, so naturally the second Ridley turns 20, he gets the bright idea to go back to Hatchetfield for a few weeks, maybe a month depending on how much he enjoys himself, just to shoot the shit with some family and get in some much needed adventure. See, he's heard some pretty neat rumours about Hatchetfield, and because thing has long since gotten stale in Clivesdale, he figured it'd be a nice change of pace.

So, Ridley heads down to Hatchetfield, writing Wes letters every other week with photographs and illustrations of all the things he's seen, the people he met, stuff like that. It seems to be going fan fucking tastic for him, until...

The letters stop.

As a month goes by, Wes tries to not think too much about it. It's always had a problem with anxiety and being paranoid, he wouldn't put it past itself to be stressed out like this for no reason. Maybe Ridley was having too much fun, or maybe he's still sending letters but they're just getting lost in the mail. But then, another week goes by. And another. Two whole months pass and Wes STILL hasn't heard from Ridley. He's called him a gazillion times, sent him letter after letter, care package after care package, but it just doesn't know if Ridley's getting them, or if Ridley's even alive.

So, Wes and his family calls the police and files his brother missing. For a moment, Wes considers trying to march down to Hatchetfield to look for Ridley himself. Only, at this point it's 16, he still has its parents to worry about and tell him what to do, and it hasn't even learned how to drive yet. Also, the Nantucket bridge is hardly ever lowered, he'd have to wait 'til the perfect moment to sneak across.

So, he waited. Waited until it'd would be old enough to move out too, waited until he could finally have the freedom to find its goddamn brother again. At first, it felt like he was waiting forever, but when he got old enough, the exact same age Ridley was when he first left, Wes is finally ready to leave. He packs his things, scrapes together what little change it can, and moves into a shitty, shitty apartment in the tiny town of Hatchetfield.

Somewhere along the way, he finds a bunch of unsent letters written by its brother, journals filled back to back with notes on all the cool shit Ridley found there. But as Wes continues reading, he realizes with a start that Ridley, adventurous, curious Ridley, may have gotten himself into something he really shouldn't. Yeaaahhhh, Ridley managed to piss off both the Church of Starry Children AND CCRP (despite their parents' attempts to make sure that wouldn't happen), and both were more than ready to make this guy "from" Clivesdale disappear. And of course, Wes is destined to follow the same exact fate as his poor, older brother, the one it looked up to the most.

But don't worry! Ridley's still alive, in a way. Sure, he... may not be entirely human anymore. It's hard to tell if there's any of him still left in the broken, shambling husk that roams the Witchwood. But he's there, waiting for Wes to find him.

#wesley wilder #indigo's Hatchetfield OCs

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josiebelladonna · 11 months

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okay, it’s the mother of all long stories and there’s way too much i can’t talk about because of legalities, but because my mom and stepdad were basically given this house that we currently live in, the whole financial situation around this place has been extremely tricky since we moved here in 2015. it belonged to my stepdad’s mom, who passed away in 2014, and he and his sister inherited her estate; she passed in 2019, and he went in 2021, so it went to their children. i never met her kids, they have never even been here to this house; and his son (my stepbrother) who quarantined with us with his girlfriend and their daughter, took off back in january, so it’s been just my mom and me here. my stepbrother promised to take care of this (i won’t say how much is owed just from confidentiality, but it’s a lot, though) during quarantine because he’s technically the owner of the house… and look what happened. 👀

it sounds scary, but i promise you it isn’t: the mortgage was paid for a long time ago and there’s no rent, either. but my mom and i have two choices: find a way to get her name on the deed and do the whole “redemption” process there (because of the pandemic interspersed with the delinquent period, we figure we could qualify for assistance), or… we pack up and bounce this summer. we’re both vouching for the former because while we’ve wanted to care for this house and then move coincidentally since 2018, and it’s seriously getting harder to live here given where it is and the fact we’re probably facing an el niño this year (read: another wet winter), it’s pretty sudden. plus, the economy is getting bad again: it’s not like we can readily find a new place, be it in nevada or oregon, on such short notice. in other words, it’s more daunting than anything.

but. if it does get to that point, like it’s not possible to put her name on the deed… her job is internet based, i.e., she can take it anywhere and it’s assignment-based, in that she works for four weeks and then has time off until the next assignment. i have my tablet with me, i always have my tablet with me, especially after my laptop went belly-up back in march: i haven’t been updating my fics lately because i’ve been doing yard work and housework, stuff that’s physically demanding and i just haven’t had the brain power to sit down and write the last few days (make art, definitely, but not write, though). this being said, when my stepdad died, i had this inexplicable feeling that i was going to have to start writing more on mobile. given the mobile devices, i can promise you that i won’t stop: it’ll just be… you know, a little slow.

i’m saying this here on tumblr, but i’m not expecting anyone here to give a shit. this site has a reputation for handing out likes when someone asks a (usually important) question, and it’s only gotten worse with the tiktok generation, and i have a reputation on here, too. people on here don’t like me, like there’s a reason why i have my ask box turned off and i’ve had it turned off for years. i shelved the idea of starting a patreon or a tip jar a long time ago because i got literally no response, nobody cared—despite the audience i’ve acquired on instagram, i still don’t believe anyone cares or would care, who the hell wants to watch me draw? i’m lucky to get more than 3 notes on a drawing i made, what makes me think anyone would shell out money to see it happen? this site has gotten so fucking toxic the last few months alone that i literally have no faith whatsoever. plus, i’ve gone to great pains to shake off the whole green druidess situation but i still feel the animosity and the repercussions towards me: there’s way too many people on here with a sense of entitlement like her, like they think i should just give away everything that i have, and way too many people on here with a victim mentality as big as hers. who am i talk about my problems like this when the economy is tanking and other people don’t even have a roof over their heads? and, like her, people on here don’t listen. there’s a reason why tumblr has the reputation that it has, like sometimes i wonder what i’m still doing here because there’s no respect, for art, for anything genuine.

i’m telling you all this for my own good. there’s a 50/50 chance that my mom and i could be doing the nomadic thing in a month and i don’t know where else to say this.

#personal #text #artists on tumblr #using that tag because there’s still some activity in there #i have 0 faith so it’s there kind of to spite itself

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hailieshapedbox · 1 year

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my younger cousin has a lot of mental health issues and its really affecting everyone in the house n we dont know how to help him help himself/: its a bit tormenting on everyone. ive tried to help a lot but i had to stop bc it was affecting my mental health and he started be really mean, now i see why everyone has to minimize how much they can help and be around. i just gotta vent real quick though bc i cant take this sometimes. my uncle missed his psych appointment with his main dr. twice and had me reschedule it bc his assistants that fuck everything up, had it all fucked up. i made my uncle buy a whiteboard to keep track of all his shit bc i have enough projects for myself, i texted him multiple times throughout the week about the appointment and helped with other reminders on top of other things for his business (and his friends jewelry start up). i texted him the day before and the day before that about the appointment, i put a post it note on the coffee maker that his friend just let fall aside and got coffee all over (but still it was right on the counter), and he still woke me up to ask me what time it was at and even had the nerve to tell me to get ready in an hour to “help get him going and get him over there”. bruh i went back to sleep, i was up for 2 hours tryna sleep laying there like a dead fish or whatever they say n barely got a couple hours. ive told him so many times ive been dealing with insomnia and he just thinks everyone has trouble sleeping and doesnt understand n ive told him im underweight and how i have no energy and its like nobody ever hears me when i ask for help. hes woken me up probably 10x now n i started hurting myself tbh bc my peace was being too intruded. i got handle and control of that though, i dont wanna hurt myself you know. but only coping method that ever helped. whatever when i got up i did knock on my cousins door n ask if he heard his dad and i texted him bc he didnt say anything. i went to go work out. when my uncle got home he saw me working out and tried to get me to go with and ik its only bc he wants me to sit in the office so he can nap in the car. i even made a joke about it and he agreed laughing and went to go take a nap. instead of going to tmobile to get this kid a new sim card that hes been needing and begging for for going on two months. lmao bruh i try

this was just one morning i could write books of diary entries accumulating my emotions but i dont have time for that tbh im procrastinating n finally writing out bc i just want this week to be over i want it to be monday i want it to be next month when my brothers getting here and my mom comes over and imma make ed come back in town.

idk if yall noticed but until valentines day, i hadnt posted anything the entire month of february. took this long being single to realize valentines day is my favorite holiday and i couldnt missy opportunity to share my heart. i even posted on iG for the first time in like a year. i love love, its all i am, its all i need.

ive had so many post ideas too, but everyone is asking so much of me. its crazy because a few months ago i fucking begged the universe for more responsibility and god damn did i get it, im really trying hard to manage and stay aligned any way i can. im getting close to getting really good. im tryna get there so soon bc i see it through so clear but i just cant. even stopped drinking and cut back on weed a bit bc i just dont have time for it.

i had a whole other thing to rant about and i could have so many others, does kinda help to vent it especially writing. i forgot what it was once i started writing about valentines day and happier things. its funny how easy it is to flow into different emotions, yet so hard to control that and discipline that. even when i then after put myself into my happiest spaces, just doesnt always work. thats why when i see the opportunity for happiness i take it and thats why i dont get stuck on things easy, i hate stagnacity (wrote a song about that the other day). not easily influenced, but easily inspired. music actually usually does it. well imma go see if it still smells like campfire in the shower n do that or something else productive n try to make the most of whats left of the day. fuck i usually post this kinda stuff in the middle of the night so not to many people see it, i try not to be a bother or negative. love you all always

#hailieshapedbox

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theconsofrom-coms · 1 year

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Falling in Love While in a Relationship? Nope!

Just Justified Cheating!

We can't lie and say that there are many romantic comedies out there in which this becomes one of the main premises. Tell me...does this sound familiar? "Guy in a relationship meets girl who changes the way in which he sees many aspects of his life, she is so different from his own girlfriend/fiancée/wife and such a breath of fresh air, and she seems to treat him so much better!" and vice versa. Yeah, this is something that has become so popular in rom-coms that it should be a sub-genre of its own, I call it Justified Cheating!

We will be focusing on three movies in whose main couple is implicit of Justified Cheating. "Something Borrowed", "The Wedding Planner", and "Sex and the City 2" But make no mistake, there are dozens of rom-coms out there with a cheating premise.

Something Borrowed, or should I say, I will cheat on my fiancée with her best friend!

NOBODY IS INNOCENT IN THIS MOVIE! Rachel, the main character of this movie is in love with her best friend Darcy's fiancée, Dex, and after a night of drinks, end up sleeping together. This act becomes the catalyst for an affair that lasts basically up until the week before the wedding. And before anyone says "poor Darcy," well things are more complicated than that, as we find out that Darcy has also been having an affair with a man named Marcus, moreover, she's pregnant with his baby! WITH HIS BABY! But the cheating is soon found out, and Darcy, while hypocritical, is upset at finding out that her best friend has been sleeping with Dex, a man she was already engaged to.

This movie romanticizes cheating, as though it is okay as long as you have feelings for one another, as Rachel and Dex did since they had known each other since law school. That if you aren't totally fulfilled in your relationship, it is totally fine to find someone else out there to revitalize you, as long as you are still with your partner and make them believe in the so called relationship you have with each other.

The Wedding Planner, a guy just being a guy!

Mary is a woman who after a fatal break-up with her fiancée who she had found cheating with her maid of honor and best friend (Funny, how this seems to be a pattern, huh) has focused on her career as one of the best wedding planners in the industry. It all changes when she is rescued by a man, called Eddie. They go on a date and seem to have a genuine connection, even almost kissing at one point, but it all comes tumbling down, when she finds out that Eddie is the groom of the latest wedding Mary is planning.

It's funny to see how when confronted by the issue, all Eddie has to say is "Maybe I was just being a guy..." as if that is any excuse to cheat on your fiancée. Just guys being guys, right? Mary is no less innocent, as she continues to flirt with and make suggestive remarks towards Eddie when it comes to her growing feelings, although I will praise her for removing herself from the situation once she realized she was playing with fire. In the end though, Eddie and his ex have an amicable break-up the day of their wedding and Eddie finds Mary. While, there was never any instance where Eddie and Mary slept with, kissed, or showed any sort of physical affection, the intent behind their interactions was there. It was obvious that they were both falling for each other and instead of staying apart to avoid any heartbreak, they continued to be constantly in each other's faces. So yeah, apparently if you start falling out of love with a woman you've been with for a multiple amount of years, it is okay to cheat? Really?

And finally, Sex and The City 2, looking for unnecessary drama.

Well...what could we really expect from a movie whose main character is Carrie Bradshaw? Throughout the entirety of the franchise, both movie and show it was shown that Carrie thrived on the idea of having a relationship filled with glamour and drama, which is why it is so hard for her to live a regular married life. Finally, after so many years of wanting the aforementioned "Mr. Big" to be the one man in her life, she starts to feel stale in her marriage after 5 years. She is concerned that the sparkle of their relationship will fade, especially because they have decided not to have children. It would just be the two of them, for the rest of their lives.

This need for drama is only intensified when, in a trip to Abu Dhabi with her best friends, she runs into Aiden, a man who she had considered to be her other great love. A man, mind you, who she had previously cheated on with Big. They greet each other as old friends do, and considering the perplexing circumstances of their reunion, Carrie starts to believe it meant something. Although her friends advise against her going to dinner with Aiden, saying she's "playing with fire" she turns a blind eye to their warnings. And drumroll please...kisses Aiden on that date. And while many may say that it was just a kiss, it was not because it involves a man who once upon a time, was just as important for Carrie as Big is. While her and Big are able to reconcile after this incident, Carrie is never fully punished for her actions, although let's be honest, when has Carrie ever suffered the consequences of her actions in a permanent way.

And so, that is all I have to say in respect to romantic comedies' hidden subgenre, Justified Cheating!

I'll be back soon with our next topic, what will it be?

I wonder...

#romantic comedy #romcom #sex and the city 2 #the wedding planner #something borrowed #movie analysis #problematic characters #controvercial

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