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tsukimefuku · 29 days

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Toxic endeavors

You and Higuruma are on your third mission, and you save him from getting injured, putting yourself in harm's way as you do so.

tags: Jujutsu Kaisen, f!reader, angst, canon-typical violence.

wc: 2.4K

This is part of my "Jujutsu Partners Canon Divergence AU". A sequence of short stories and random drabbles related to Nanami x Reader x Higuruma. To see the ever-growing list of one-shots and short stories, please visit my masterlist :)

Disclaimer: these stories are NOT written and posted in chronological order of events. To see where this story fits in the timeline, please check the masterlist mentioned above.

"How truly relevant is the job of a sorcerer?" Higuruma asked as you both walked down the corridor of a closed school.

"What do you mean?" You inquired, looking around for any sign of the curse you were both sent out to exorcize. Gladly, this curse had been detected by one of the windows before anyone went missing, which was a rare occurrence. You thought this had already started off pretty good, and all could be smooth sailing from there.

It wouldn't be.

"What I mean to say is that curses spawn cyclically, from what you and other sorcerers have told me, right?"

"Hm, yes?" You replied, unsure where he intended to lead this conversation. His rants usually arrived to cynical, pessimistic or nihilistic conclusions, though, as you had noticed from previous interactions.

"So, considering curses will always keep spawning, why do we bother sending people to die facing them?" Higuruma finally posed the question. "This is an incredibly risky line of work, after all."

"Because curses don't just disappear, they have to be exorcized. Otherwise, more people might die due to cursed activity."

"From what I could gather, there aren't that many jujutsu sorcerers, and the quantity of people disappearing due to cursed activity has stayed the same, even with Jujutsu sorcerers numbers increasing. I think it's fair to say we don't make a dent" Higuruma replied nonchalantly.

You sighed. "You might have a point. Even so, our job is to exorcize curses, and I don't see a downfall to that activity in and of itself. I mean..." you shrugged, "exorcizing curses is just that, exorcizing curses. Not saving lives or anything of the sort. Getting rid of the literal corporeal manifestation of bad feelings is surely something good to be doing."

He sighed heavily.

"Hey, I like it just as much as you do" you said.

"Really?" He asked.

"Yes. I'm here working for Jujutsu High somewhat against my own volition too. Not the same as you," you remarked, briefly looking at Higuruma, "but trust me, I would rather be doing something else with my time. Maybe even exorcizing curses, but not for them."

That poked just a little at his curiosity, but he didn't pay enough mind to it in order to ask you for further information. Higuruma still felt awkward to be working alongside someone he had nearly killed, and on top of that, from what he learned, had saved his life shortly after.

"What about this Jujutsu High, or Jujutsu Tech? Why are they in charge of making decisions regarding jujutsu and curses?" Higuruma asked.

"Beats me, I have no idea. What I know is that their headmaster, so to speak, has been building this alongside some very powerful clans for some centuries. That's about it."

He kept silent, and the awkward silence entangled the both of you.

"Let's just get the job done and get out of here" you concluded.

Shortly after, you both heard some noise coming from the floor above, and you looked at Higuruma as he increased the length of his gavel, turning it into a mid-range weapon. You conjured some grenades and kept them between your fingers, walking towards the stairs. The two of you stepped up quietly, and peered up.

Sliding on the ground, there was a purple creature with many tentacles and yellow eyes all over its body. As it moved, its tentacles were leaving some greenish substance all over the floor and walls.

It definitely rang some alarm bells in your head.

However, before you could talk to him, Higuruma had already jumped over to the top of the stairs and was lunging towards the curse, doing something he had been so accustomed to do by this point.

I could kill him myself with my bare hands right now.

Being a prodigy regarding his sorcerer abilities, Higuruma had exorcized successfully multiple high grade curses around Morioka before you found him. So his usual instinct by now was to charge against any found curse without assessing much about the situation. You had already warned him the previous two missions you both went together, having to run around trying to accompany him while Higuruma swung his gavel, tearing multiple holes and wounds on each and every curse along the way. He'd forget, many times, that the thing ricocheted, and almost hit you twice on your last mission.

"For fuck's sake, Higuruma! Wait up!" You yelled, jumping over and running towards him.

"'Let's just get the job done', right?!" He yelled back, swirling his weapon — now his size — to crush the curse on the ground. Yet, before he did so, the curse squirmed around with its tentacles, pinning itself to the ceiling, leaving a green trail of slobber on the walls as it did.

"Be careful!"

You suspected what the green goo oozing out the curse's tentacles might be, and you'd be proven right in just a few moments.

"Why?!" He shouted back, getting ready to propel himself upwards with his weapon. You were nearing him when the cursed spirit flung one of its tentacles in his direction, and you could see that it was covered in stings, spitting the green substance on its bottom side.

"Get away!" You yelled, as you pushed him out of the tentacle's trajectory. However, it wrapped around your arm before you could pull it back, and the spears pierced your skin, pumping your blood with cursed poison. Another tentacle came down rapidly and whipped your face, leaving a few cuts behind.

You let out a pained grunt before conjuring one of your grenades with your other hand and grabbing the thing that was around your arm, exploding it.

Underneath, your arm was bloody and starting to turn purple.

He looked at your arm and then at you. "Are you okay?"

"Of course I'm fucking not!" You gnarled, feeling the poison pumping through your veins like corrosive acid. You figured you'd only have some seconds before losing control over your muscles, given they were already twitching, so you mustered the strength to summon multiple grenades, throwing some of them upwards with one hand. As the curse tried to do the same move, sliding down towards the stairs you both came from to avoid impact, you threw the remainder of them in its direction, hitting the curse full force with the blasts. It was exorcized in an instant, leaving nothing but some bits and pieces around that slowly dissipated away.

This was the first time Higuruma actually witnessed you using your innate cursed technique with this much power, worthy of a Grade 1 sorcerer from what he had learned, and figured you wanted to end this quickly.

In your previous missions, you had let him beat the curses into oblivion, taking the time he needed to — which was fast, but not this fast. He thought you did so just to let him earn his 'pay', but now Higuruma figured that he had made it impossible for you to fight properly alongside him.

When he put himself in between you and the curses, just advancing without coordinating moves with you, you'd be unable to use an explosion technique like this without seriously injuring him.

Huffing, you tried walking, but your legs began failing you. Your body was about to fall when Higuruma hurried himself to hold you before you did.

"Take me b-back to Jujutsu High right n-now" you said, voice breaking at the burning sensation all throughout your body, as you tried your best to use your RCT to protect your organs, muscles, and bones from corroding or malfunctioning due to the poison.

Using RCT to deal with poison was very tricky, so the best strategy was protection of your own body while it worn out instead of trying to separate the poison from your blood and tissues, which required a super fine control of cursed energy that you absolutely could not do in this state.

He nodded, picking you up in his arms, feeling a pit of guilt forming in his gut. If he had waited before charging in, then maybe this could all have been avoided.

I'm an idiot.

***

"And here you are again, it seems" Shoko said, as she prepped a drip with analgesics while you healed yourself.

You nodded, chuckling softly, feeling every nerve in your body burn painfully in response. You were covered in cold sweat, had your jaw clenched and looked like 2 steps away from perishing. Even with your RCT, the poison had burned some damage through your body, and you knew you'd be facing a gnarly recovery period.

"Yeah, but this time it wasn't completely intentional" was all you mustered up the strength to say.

"I guess that's what people call 'an accident', then" Shoko answered, before she sighed. After she finally inserted the needle in your arm, securing it, Shoko stepped back, and said, "if your RCT starts to run out, let me know, I'll take over so you can rest."

You hummed in accordance, and she removed her gloves, throwing them in the trash before coming out of your room and closing the door. Outside, Higuruma sat, leaning his body lazily against the wall behind him.

"It's my fault, she pushed me out of harm's way because I was being careless," he mindlessly said to Shoko, "just like every damn thing that brought me here. It's all my fault."

Shoko scoffed, putting one hand on her pocket to search for her cigarettes.

"Feeling guilty is not healing her faster" Shoko said, looking straight at him.

Higuruma was slightly surprised at her comment.

Shoko proceeded, "carrying guilt like that because of some sense of penitence only leads to things like these. People get hurt while you're taking your time reveling in your guilt, acting recklessly. Do better."

Pursing his lips, he looked at the floor, embarrassed for the consequence of his actions. This guilt of ending up harming someone and endangering their life had him finally grasping upon the feelings he had buried deep shortly after killing the judge and the prosecutor.

It felt awful.

It seemed his humanity was slowly being rescued from the depths of his apathetic state, after all.

Both Shoko and Higuruma noticed some steps as someone approached them.

"Where is she? What happened?"

Higuruma heard a male voice and looked upwards, seeing a tall blond man with a blue formal shirt, equally formal beige pants and green goggles. One of his hands was wrapped up with what seemed like a yellow cloth with a black splatter pattern — was it a tie? — and he had a brown leather harness on his upper body, seemingly used to carry something in his back.

"She's stable, and as fine as she could be fighting cursed poison" Shoko replied, finally managing to fish out her pack of cigarettes from her pocket.

"It's my fault. She took the damage to save me" Higuruma said, looking at the man. "I'm Higuruma."

Nanami glared at him, knowing full well who it was. This was the curse user that had endangered your life when you went to take him into custody. Nanami had absolutely no idea why you thought you should save this man from execution, but held himself begrudgingly from making any especially harsh remarks as you tried to help the man.

"Nanami" he answered unceremoniously, still glaring at the other sorcerer. "If you plan to keep working for Jujutsu High in order to ease your punishment, then be considerate of your colleagues. We don't do well with recklessness in the field, as it can get other people killed."

The ratio sorcerer stabbed each word at Higuruma with a frosty bite of anger as he spoke.

Higuruma lowered his head and sighed. "You're right. I apologize."

Nanami scoffed silently. "You should apologize to her, and probably be grateful as well. It seems she might have saved you from many things, and not just from getting hit with cursed poison" he concluded, while getting into the room and closing the door behind him.

"Congratulations, you just earned your first Nanami lecture" Shoko chimed in, while calmly walking away. She stopped, however, and turned one last time to face Higuruma.

"Hm?"

"You should really thank her. She's really doing more than anyone here would do to help you."

"Why, though? Why did she help me?" He inquired, not really keen on asking you the same thing. Coming back into contact with his feelings rather than keep embracing apathy, like he had been ever since killing those people, was becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

Shoko shrugged. "No idea. I think it's because she's the martyr and good-hearted type" she said, while sighing. "Just... Don't be an ass" Shoko stated, right before finally stepping away.

***

"May I come in?" Higuruma asked, uncertain, as he stood by your door after Nanami left.

You rolled your eyes, ready to ask him to leave, but pondered for a moment. Looking back at the sorcerer, you noticed his usual lackadaisical expression had been chipped away, replaced by a somewhat worried frown.

"Fine, come in" you answered, still accompanying him with your eyes.

He walked in and sat on a chair by your bedside, with bated breath, as you glanced at him curious about what he wanted to speak.

You were almost at your wit's end with the man. He had been nothing but an irresponsible, inconsiderate jackass ever since you got his death sentence suspended with Gojo's help. You understood and sympathized with his contempt for corrupt powers in place, being yourself someone carrying such types of feelings most of the time.

However, it got you beyond angry the way he simply disregarded anyone's well-being and efforts when proceeding with the terms of his 'parole'. You were to work together, you were supposed to shepherd him, and even so, all he had done up until this point was endangering the both of you at the battlefield.

"I apologize" Higuruma said, earnestly, looking down.

"Hm. For what?" You inquired, wanting a proper apology.

"For my irresponsibility. And for attacking you the first time we crossed paths. Also for acting in a way in our previous missions that made your job of shepherding me harder than it should be" he said, sighing after. "I’m sorry."

Your anger had diminished, and you took a few moments before addressing him.

"I accept your apology, but you’ll definitely have to do better than you have been doing. Do you understand? I can’t have by my side a reckless, suicidal maniac. It’s a liability not only for you, but for me too."

Higuruma nodded, lifting his gaze to look at you.

"I understand."

"Do we have a deal?" You said, sliding your good hand under the gurney's side support grip for a makeshift handshake.

He took your hand in his, and avoided moving it too much, while he felt his tense body slightly relax as he did.

We have a deal.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #higuruma hiromi #jjk higuruma #jjk imagines #jjk hiromi #hiromi jjk #hiromi higuruma #higuruma #jujutsu kaisen higuruma #higuruma x reader #hiromi x reader #higuruma hiromi x reader #higuruma x y/n #higuruma x you

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pleasantlycrazyworld · 10 months

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Oohh, you SO know who I'm asking this for and why 😂😂

15. “do you think we’d still be a couple in an alternate universe?” “go to bed.” “what if we already got married and have five kids.” “go to bed.”

Ps ILY 🩷

This was one of my favorites 🤭If you like this please reblog and comment it means so much more than you think. <3

Eddie never will know what it means to have to take care of him when he gets super high. Now he has a good tolerance but sometimes he plans to get high out of his mind. These days are planned when he knows two things, 1. he has no work that day or the next, and 2. he knows you will be there to take care of him.

You had just arrived from the grocery when you saw Eddie arguing with the cartoons you left on the TV before leaving. "Don't be an idiot the dynamite won't work for that bird YOU KNOW THIS!!" Eddie huffs and sits on the couch muttering about how stupid a coyote can be, but then he lights up seeing you in the doorway. "Baby!" he leaps from his seat and hurries to your side, "I missed you so much! I thought it was just a quick trip?" He pouts and starts to cling to you.

You chuckle at the boys' behavior."It was a quick trip sweetie I was gone for fifteen minutes." Eddie huffs again, "That is forever! You missed so much-" as he trails on and on about the episode of Looney Tunes that his watching you get to put the groceries away. He finally concludes that you'll just have to watch the episode again to understand it all the better, so you agree to watch the show if you get to make his plate of chicken tenders and he happily agrees and sits very patiently for you on the couch.

When you sit next to him with your dinner plates his eyes light up all over again. He fumbles with the remote to start the episode again and you two eat while you listen to his rants about how dumb a coyote can be once again, but there isn't a fiber in your being that minds. Now you don't get to see this side of him often, but when Eddie is like this he gets a child-like sense to him all over again and you vow to protect him with your life.

Eddie ends up getting sleepy after dinner is all over so you awkwardly help him to the bed as he tries to deny his tiredness while he buries his face into your neck. "But babyyyyyy I don't want to sleep! Then who will look at your face?! Someone needs to admire that beauty!" He collapses on the bed and sighs feeling the tiredness settle within his bones. He mumbles into the pillow that maybe you were right and he is sleepy. You roll your eyes and get him out of his jeans before helping him under the covers. Before you can do anything else however he pulls you into his chest and starts to beg for cuddles. "How do you expect me to sleep if you leave?" He pouts and you sigh as you start to take off your jeans. "Okay, baby let's cuddle" He damn near squeals hearing this.

Once you both are nice and comfortable in bed Eddie cuddles into you like usual but this time he just won't stop rambling. "What would you do if I turned to a worm? Would you still love me?" You nod and reassure him you would love him no matter what. "That's disgusting. I would be a WORM! Those things live in the dirt." He scrunched his nose as he starts laughing at the thought of you kissing a worm thinking it was him. "Baby...do you think we’d still be a couple in an alternate universe?”Eddie asks sounding so sincere but you sigh before answering. “Honey let's just go to bed we will talk in the morning about all the important questions.”

It's quiet for a bit and you really thought he was finally asleep.“But what if we already got married and have like five kids?!” Eddie argues back. “Baby please just go to bed.” He contemplates this request for a bit before kissing the side of your head, "I love you" He mumbles before he finally falls asleep.

tagging: @sweet-villain @bloodthirstybreedingbunny @screammunson @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @zestychili @lofaewrites @h-ness1944 @eiightysixbaby @thefreak0fhawkinshigh @tiannasfanfic @djkeruigbbygirl

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #gracie writes #high eddie?#stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #joseph quinn #eddie munson x you #requested #please request

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luna-rainbow · 9 months

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Hello, hello, long rant incoming

When I reposted this on AO3, I had intentionally minimised tagging and summary because I wanted to archive it rather than attract readers. I didn’t even tag it Steve/Bucky because there just wasn’t enough mention of Bucky in it. Importantly, P*ggy was not tagged.

The user calls themselves “Rebuttal” and their only work is another essay rebutting someone else’s post on Civil War, which they had to post separately because I guess the OP blocked them. So we have a serial offender with too much time on their hands going around to directly suck the joy out of other people’s fandom experience.

They begin with this:

Although I don't particularly care for Steve's ending, this essay does not offer support for a different one.

*Inhales* Honey, can you please Google analytical essay and narrative essay before you unload your drivel on other people? This "essay" is a fic - while there's some character analysis, the emotive language should be sufficient clue that the focus is the story. It’s like reading The Fifth Elephant then writing to Sir Pratchett to argue his “essay on Discworld” is factually incorrect because it offers no support for the idea that the Earth is flat.

Steve is self-sufficient. He is not shown as requiring Bucky as foundational to his being. (…) We do know Steve was willing and expecting to go it alone after Sarah's death and that he is fully confident in his own abilities; he can "do this all day." Bucky's offer at the apartment earns a small smile, not a great overcoming.

I enjoyed how you, at multiple points in your essay, pick at certain turns of (evocative) phrasing while ignoring actual canon mentions. Explain why you deliberately omitted my mention of the canon phrase "Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky". Sure, Sarah was Steve's touchstone, but Steve's words clearly indicated that upon Sarah's death, that touchstone role shifted to Bucky.

Steve's "I can do this all day" is said a total of 4 times during all the movies. Each time he says it to a bully (one time he specifically says it to protect Bucky), and never in relation to his emotional turmoil. Also just, factually, he never references "I can do this all day" when Sarah dies can you be real for a sec.

It's mighty rich of you to say a grieving person who had JUST BURIED HIS SOLE LIVING RELATIVE that a) "he is willing to do it alone" - I can guarantee no one who has lost their sole beloved family member feels "willing" in that situation; and b) downplaying the smile that took all of Steve's energy to muster. All I can conclude is you know nothing of grief. (And since you love the word "disservice" so much - your interpretation of the scene is a fucking disservice to CEvans' acting.)

Steve's choice to go to war has nothing to do with Bucky. Steve has tried five times to enlist and stated his reasons, which have nothing to do with Bucky and everything to do with not liking bullies.

Because, you know, saying “I want to join the 107th cos I’m gay for my best friend” is going to go down real well in the 1940s military *snerks*

Can you get your head out of your ass for one minute and consider that people make decisions based on multiple factors? By acknowledging that Bucky is an important factor in Steve wanting to join the war DOES NOT MINIMISE STEVE'S MORAL COMMITMENT TO FIGHT BULLIES.

Steve is also not aghast at hearing Bucky's assignment. - Back this up.

Bucky does not believe in pre-serum Steve as much as pre-serum Steve believes in himself. - Right. *In Bucky’s tired voice* Because simply ~*♫~believing in yourself~*♫~ is going to stop you getting killed. This is a fucking war, not a back alley. Do you know the death rate for US soldiers in WW2? 1 in 40. For perspective, the death rate from coronavirus is currently sitting at 1 in 70.

Whether Bucky went to war or not, Steve wanted to go. - Again, back your ass-umptions up.

Steve was told Bucky was dead. He was going to try to rescue the rest of the 107th. Again, to suggest that Steve's courageous act is about Bucky is a disservice to Steve.

So not only do you remember fuck all about the movie where it doesn’t involve your fave, you apparently remember fuck all about the scenes where YOUR FAVE APPEARS.

P*ggy: “What do you plan to do, walk to Austria?” Steve: “If that’s what it takes.” P*ggy: “You heard the Colonel. Your friend is most likely dead.” Steve: “You don’t know that.”

NOW LOOK THOSE WORDS IN THE EYES AND TELL ME HIS RESCUE MISSION IS NOT ABOUT BUCKY.

Also, Steve wanting to rescue his best friend is a "disservice" to his character? Condolences to your friends and your character, I guess.

It is strange to ignore Steve's interactions with people other Bucky. Okay here we go, we’re finally getting to why this steaming trash heap landed in my inbox. It's Peggy who - I knew it. I fucking knew it. Of course it came from someone who likes Miss I-need-to-make-everything-about-me - appreciated pre-serum Steve at the flagpole - Oh you mean the appreciation she showed by not uttering a single word to him?

Peggy and Erskine supported pre-serum Steve's drive to do his part when Bucky did not. It seems truer to say that they more likely "kept Steve afloat" during his basic training, of which Bucky had no part.

Hold on. *walks off to cackle* *walks back, wheezing*. P*ggy kept Steve afloat? Miss-never-said-a-single-word-to-Steve-P*ggy, “supported” Steve during his basic training??

Again, I urge you to actually watch CATFA, where *checks notes* your fave has her biggest movie role. AFTER STEVE FINISHES BASIC TRAINING, the two of them sit in a car and exchange the infamous lines:

P*ggy: “You have no idea how to talk to a woman, do you?” Steve: “I think this is the longest conversation I’ve had with one.”

They have, by their own admission, not had a conversation before this, so which bull’s ass did you pull the “P*ggy kept Steve afloat during his basic training” shit out of?

There is nothing in the scenes to suggest he finds it a great miracle. The whole assumption of Steve's reaction seems to be a Bucky-centric projection rather than Steve-centric.

No, honey, I think you are just blinded by your Bucky hate. You looked at a scene where 2 characters (including your fave) claimed that Bucky is no longer alive, and Steve himself said, "I thought you were dead" - and Bucky was, against all odds and expectations of at least 3 different characters, found alive...and said, NAH NAH NAH NAH there's nothing here! There's nothing~here~to~suggest~it's a miracle.

Honestly I think you're the one living in a different plane of projection.

When Steve awakens in the future, his line to Fury is "I had a date." With Peggy, not Bucky.

Pfft he said “I had a date”, not "I had a date with P*ggy". So your interpretation is just as invalid.

And just, realistically, do you really think Steve is deluded enough to expect he’d wake up in time for a dance? And...do you really think Steve is desperate enough that he'd go for a woman who blasted him with live rounds for locking lips with another woman? When in your own words you said he hates bullies?

We do not know what Steve thought as he died, so saying he is content with death is not supported.

How about this -- "we do not know what Steve thought as he died, so saying he is not content with death is not supported". It’s my conjecture against yours and you’ve come onto my turf to be a presumptuous prick.

He has Peggy and Natasha. To ignore these two relationships seems to do a disservice to both characters.

Ah yes, the great relationship with P*ggy, who in 5 minutes of her screen time is characterised by: 1) mocking Steve as “dramatic” when he asks for guidance, and 2) her florid delirium in which he had to pull the emotional labour to placate her, and 3) her being grateful that she's led a great life without Steve.

If oldwoman!P*ggy was such an important relationship to Steve, he wouldn't have lamented to Natasha that "it's not easy finding someone with shared experience".

If there is any lesson Steve should learn in the modern day, it is that Steve sacrifices and Bucky leaves. Once involuntarily with the Snap, but twice voluntarily.

WHO THE FUCK HURT YOU AND MESSED UP YOUR BRAIN. I don't know how you can look at those scenes and pretend that the sole victim is Steve.

(Actually I can, because it's a common refrain from certain shit!stans who can't deal with the idea of Bucky being morally good)

Bucky sacrificed his own freedom and lived time in order to protect other people from getting hurt. And Bucky being involuntarily "Snapped" only counts as "Steve's sacrifice"?? The one who actually dies/gets Snapped isn't making a sacrifice? My gods the logic in this one is strong. (Also by referring to Bucky's death as Steve's sacrifice you have inadvertently acknowledged just how important Bucky is to him but I guess that flew over your head like the rest of this story)

It also ignores that Steve lived five years without all of those people. He had accepted the loss and changed into someone they would never truly know or understand.

Mate…

Do you hear yourself…

YOU LITERALLY WROTE THE COUNTERARGUMENT TO YOUR ENTIRE ESSAY.

Steve lived TWELVE YEARS WITHOUT YOUNG P*GGY. He had ACCEPTED THE LOSS (although, in my mind, it's really no big loss) and BOTH OF THEM HAD CHANGED INTO COMPLETELY UNRECOGNISABLE PEOPLE, not to mention they never truly knew or understood each other to begin with. So if your logic is that Steve has changed too much in 5 years to be around his old friends, why the fuck would he want to be around a woman he last saw 12 years ago and who he knew got an entire happy married life with another man. Eww.

I mean if NTR is your kink that's fine but no need to flaunt that on my turf.

The fun thing about fandom is that canon is open to different interpretations. You could read the tavern scene to say P*ggy is inviting Steve to be her right partner, just as I could point out that Steve’s pointed silence is a resounding rejection of that invitation.

But there is incorrect fandom etiquette, and that’s when you stomp into an innocuous narrative musing and start a ship war.

And I beg of you to learn another word from "disservice".

(The whole pile of horse shit for anyone needing to have their blood boiled)

#anti peggy carter #anti steggy #steve rogers #bucky barnes #yeah i'm censoring her name bcos the shitstans really got me this time #honestly i tolerated her before this because narratively she could've been interesting #BUT YOU SHITSTANS ARE REALLY HELPING ME HATE HER GOOD WORK PAT YOURSELVES ON THE BACK #anyway the whole essay was a disservice to the fandom #better yet a real disgrace to humanity #with the way this person was hellbent on minimising even the idea of friendship

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dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice · 9 days

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The Grim Reaper's Guide to Breaking Every Rule of the Universe /// Chapter 3

Ok so I decided to cut down the next chapter so I could get something out before I take a small break, but the next one is over hlaf-way done so it'll be out soon. Enjoy!

Summary: When touring America for the sake of it, you go to stay with your aunt in New Orleans for a while, taking up a peaceful part-time job restoring objects. But a few weeks in, a package arrives containing an old radio that's seen better days, along with a note seemingly written by someone who thinks they could fist-fight the Devil.

What you didn't know, was the hell of a path that was now set out in front of you. Not fist-fighting the Devil, but instead a very smug radio host who would have no problem spending the rest of his days driving you up the walls.

But two could play that game.

Tags: Demiromantic-Asexual Alastor x Demiromantic-Asexual OC/Reader - 1920s/30s New Orleans - fluff - angst - EXTREME slow burn - crack - Violence (It's Alastor what else)

Word Count: 5942

Warnings: Period-typical sexism, Period-typical attitudes towards neurodivergency, Swearing, Mentions of murder. MC'S RACE IS DEFINED DUE TO PLOT REASONS (also because she is based off my OC)

Taglist - comment or message to be added!

Now available on Wattpad and AO3 (please let me know if links aren't working)

< Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 >

PART 1: Chapter 3

I'd rather be unemployed.

Fimble-Famble (Definition): A really lame excuse for not wanting to do something. (Noun)

New Orleans, Louisiana, USA – Monday, 9th December, 1929.

“And he told me that we needed the money so I had to take it!” you cried as you slumped in the armchair.

Agnes gave you a look over the top of her glasses, the book she was reading now long forgotten since you stormed in that evening practically red in the face as you ranted to her about the whole radio fiasco. Knowing your tirade wasn’t over, she placed a bookmark between the pages and snapped the book shut, reaching over the arm to place it on the side table with a sigh.

“Well he is your boss.” She explained calmly, and you slumped down further, edging your sock-clad feet towards the fire. “If he believes you can do it, then I don’t see any reason as to why you can’t. Besides,” she gestured to the bag of books by your feet. “Those books he gave you are about radios for beginners – having that knowledge could open up further job opportunities for you.”

All you did was stare at the bag with a frown, before you kicked it over with a whiny grunt. Agnes sighed again.

“You’re going to get rude customers wherever you go, so when you’re the one representing the business, you be the better person and take the challenge calmly.” She pressed, peering over at you with a stern expression.

Silence.

She squinted slightly. “You.. did take it calmly, didn’t you?”

When you continued to narrow your eyes at the ground, she sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Christ, no wonder the twins grew up to be as crazy as they are.” She muttered. “Look, if Mr LeBlanc has asked you to take on this repair, and allowed you to take the pay for the extra labour hours, then I see no reason for you to refuse this man’s request – at least, not without cause.”

You sat up straight, prodding the cushioned arm with your finger. “Oh, I have cause. It is because I hate him!” You exclaimed.

Your aunt tilted her head, regarding you with a tired look. “My lovely, you’ve only had one conversation with him over the phone.”

You pouted, crossing your arms. “Two, if you count the letters.” You growled. “Besides, I think Ralph only told me to take the job ‘cause he knew the guy.” Agnes raised a brow. “I said it was a Mr A. Boudreaux, and he almost choked to death from coughing his lungs out. I told him he was rude to me but he just kept saying that I had to.”

“Did he say please?” she asked, a small knowing smile on her face.

“…Yes.”

“There you go.” Agnes concluded, reaching over to give your knee a few rough but assuring pats. “I don’t know who this Mr Boudreaux is, but if Ralph wants it done, then you can at least try. Besides, I’m off work until next Monday, so I’ll be home for a whole week to give you a hand if you need one – I know how those equations and diagrams make your head go all fuzzy.”

You sighed dejectedly, then gave your aunt a small smile. “Thank you. If anything, I’m doing it for this guy’s mum, not him.”

“Awww, at least he’s sweet to his mother.” She smiled, before turning towards the door and raising her voice slightly. “I do hope I get that treatment when I’m older!”

All she got was a loud farting noise echoing through from the other room.

New Orleans, Louisiana, USA – Friday, 13th December, 1929.

The patio double doors hung wide open as you laid your head on the kitchen table, staring at the technicolour marbling of the setting sun. Tools, wires and random pieces of springs laid scattered on the wooden surface around you, along with several books opened to pages of diagrams you had spent the last week trying to understand but to no avail. You had sent a letter on the Tuesday, informing Mr Boudreaux that your boss had decided that the radio would be taken on.

You refused to call him again, lest you face the humiliation of that faceless smug bastard as he found out that your boss had sent you back with your tail between your legs to tell him that you were in the wrong – something you adamantly avoided stating in your letter, instead half-hinting that Ralph had miraculously recovered overnight (he hadn’t), and took the project on personally (he didn’t do that either).

It also seemed that the good luck spell you and your aunt had performed that Monday evening worked - after you had collapsed on your imaginary chaise-longue and wailed to her about the dilemmas of the day, she had dragged you to her room, going on about how you hadn’t been keeping up with your practice for the last seven months. She made you bring your grimoire from your room, and you both spent around an hour resetting and cleansing energies, also setting up a small bowl of different herbs and trinkets that symbolised good luck, making you put it on your bedside table along with a new incense burner she had bought you. Honestly, if your aunt wasn’t around, you probably would’ve spontaneously combusted by Wednesday.

Agnes had also sat with you every evening, reading through the radio books, and slowly helping you work things out when the words started to blend together and you found yourself trying to read a paragraph as much as you could, but to no avail.

It was times like this when you wish you were back home, when everything was normal. When people weren’t giving lingering looks to your aunt as she traipsed about the village like every other innocent woman. When your uncle was telling you about his family and his way of living in Japan to his sons, and to you whenever you had the time to stop by. When you were treated as a well-respected, intelligent woman, who was freshly graduated from university at the top of her class. Not whatever those men had said to you when they came to your door after the local doctor had practically snitched on you. If only that dinner hadn’t happened. If only your aunt’s maid hadn’t gone snooping where she shouldn’t. Within a year everyone had been torn from each other.

But there wasn’t much time for mourning. You had less than two weeks to get this radio looking like it did when it was fresh off the shelf, otherwise you risk disappointing your boss for the first time ever, which would have you unconsciously doubting yourself for the rest of eternity.

Your head still on the table, you pinched a spring coil between your fingers, holding it up against the orange-purple sky as you glared at its silhouette. Rustling came from beside you as your aunt flipped the pages of the books, eyes flitting between them and the notes she was taking in her notebook.

You felt her glance at you a couple times, until there was a sound as she shifted, then silence. Feeling a finger tap your shoulder lightly, you slowly sat up to face her. She was facing you, an uneasy look in her eye as she took her time coming up with what to say.

“So..” she began hesitantly. “I understand your busy right now working full time at the shop, but since we got the news yesterday that Ralph was getting better, I was going to ask you,” she waved her hand about in thought. “If you’re going back to working only two days, would you consider looking for another job?”

You sat up straight, confusion clouding your face. “You want me to quit on Mr LeBlanc?”

“NO, no no!” she cried, waving her hands to dismiss the obvious miscommunication as she laughed nervously. “I meant look for a second job? I felt awful even thinking about asking you, but with the free time you’ll have, I just think it would make surviving this crash easier if we both had a steady wage coming in? I mean, as steady a wage that two women during this time an get.” She looked at her hands as she twisted them, hesitance and guilt written all over her face. “I want the boys to have a completed education, and it’ll crush me if I force myself to take that away from them.” She turned to you, trying her best to hide the tears threatening to build up. “I know you’re only here temporarily, and I’m not going to make you do anything you’re not comfortable doing, but –” she took a shaky breath. “as humiliating as it is, I need your help.”

Moments passed as you stared at the woman before you. The woman who used to be so full of life and love when she was surrounded by family – who loved the village she grew up in and the city she moved to – who loved the husband she fought tooth and nail to marry – now sat in a house in an unknown city she never asked to be in, a country she never asked to move to. Torn from her sister to an unknown place on the other side of the planet. All because her stupid maid couldn’t keep her stupid mouth shut.

Reaching your arm out, you grasped her hand with your own, waiting until she looked up at you, dark eyebags you never thought you’d see underlining her eyes like a curse. You knew she wasn’t sleeping enough.

“I’ll start looking tomorrow.” You stated quietly but firmly, squeezing her hand affirmingly.

Her eyes glistened as they widened, regarding you with a desperate hope, until she let out a loud sniffle and dropped her head onto your shoulder, trying her best to conceal her own shoulders as they jerked up and down slightly with her light sobs. Resting your head on top of hers, you both sat there in silence as you listened to the clock tick along with your aunt’s quiet sniffs as she attempted to calm herself.

“There’s an assistant’s job going down near the French Quarter.” She muttered. “I know the guy who runs the place and he said he would be happy to interview you?”

You perked up at her suggestion. “Ok, what kind of company is it?” Your aunt remained silent for a moment. “Agnes?”

“It’s a, uhhh… radio station.”

Jerking your head off hers, she quickly sat up as you gave her a deadpan expression.

“C’mon,” she pushed with a watery giggle. “I said you we’re learning how radios work for a repair, and he seemed excited that you would have some knowledge before you applied.”

“Unwanted knowledge.” You pressed. “He’s gonna have to offer a decent salary if he wants me to be within a ten mile radius of a radio ever again.”

Your aunt gave a throaty laugh in response. “Oh, don’t worry, I made sure of that before asking you. I can give him a call if you’re willing to interview?”

Making sure to let out a very long and tired sigh, you looked at you aunt’s pleading face, before slowly nodding. Letting out a cry of relief, she clapped her hands, then grabbed your face as she squished your cheeks, moving your head from side to side as she let out a string of ‘thank yous!’.

Eventually after her tirade of affection, she got up, flipping her twin plaits over her shoulders as she approached the sink, rinsing both of your mugs to make the fifth cup of tea that evening. You went to reach across the table for a book when your ears perked up at the sound of a small ‘psst’ from your right side.

Glancing over, your eyes landed on the archway that led into the hallway, and you were able to see all the way down to the front door from where you were sat, though half of your view was blocked by the underside of the stairs. Peering down the long hall, you leant back in your seat until a dark mop of hair peeked around the staircase banister.

Quickly flicking your eyes to Agnes, you made sure she was still facing the sink when you turned back to make eye contact with Ollie, who was precariously perched on the bottom step as he manoeuvred his upper body to curve around the wooden post to face you. Another mop of lighter hair joined him, as Allie stuck his head between the ceiling and the railing from where he was further up the stairs. Reaching one arm round and the other through the banister posts, Ollie began waving and pointing his fingers about, signing the most ridiculous gestures as he tried to convey a message.

‘What??’ you mouthed silently, frowning as you shook your head slightly in confusion.

At this, your cousin tried again, jabbing his fingers about a bit harder as he repeated the message.

You stared, eyes darting to the side then back again, and you simply shrugged. At this point Allie had thrown a dirty sock at his brother, and you barely heard him hiss at Ollie to make it simpler.

Rolling his eyes, Ollie shifted until he was fully facing you. With frustrated, wide eyes, he pointed at you. You nodded. Then pointed upstairs. You nodded again. Then jabbed his thumbs at his chest as he mouthed ‘my room’, then held his hand up with all of his fingers splayed out, ‘five minutes’ he said silently. Nodding once more, you watched as your cousin froze at the clatter of mugs as your aunt moved about, before quickly darting back round the banister, crawling on all fours as he soundlessly disappeared back up the staircase like some shadow creature along with his brother.

Sighing with a roll of your eyes, you returned back to the mess in front of you, thanking your aunt as she placed a fresh steaming mug of tea down. Picking it up, you bathed in the hot vapours rising from it before sticking your tongue out slightly to test the temperature. Quiet slurping sounded from beside you as your aunt returned to her seat, sipping from her own mug. Glancing at you, she placed it down to pick up a book.

“So,” she said as she casually turned a page. “What did the boys want?”

You took a large sip.

“No idea.”

Five minutes later, you took it as a well-earned break, trudging upstairs to see what the twins wanted to yap at you about.

“What’re you two up to now?” You sighed as you pushed open the door that had the sign saying ‘Ollie’s Room’ nailed to it. You looked up, only to stop in your tracks as your eyes landed on the two hunched over a very large corkboard, though, the cork was hardly visible with all the random pieces of paper, newspaper clippings and string pinned to it.

“Whaaaat is that?” You said slowly, brows furrowing as you stared at the board with wide eyes.

Ollie practically crawled his way over to the door, hands on the floor as he lifted a leg like a dog taking a piss, to kick it closed before scurrying back to his twin’s side, who was busy looping glittery wool string around another pin.

“A corkboard.” Allie simply said, not even bothering to look your way.

“I can see that.” You deadpanned, making your way over. “I’m asking what is on it. And specifically HOW you got pictures of dead bodies.” You pointed out, stepping closer to see the black and white photographs of body parts and corpses that you knew definitely shouldn’t be in the hands of your underage cousins. (Though they were 17 now, and clearly the closer they got to adulthood, the more excuses they had to do crap they weren’t allowed to.)

Allie snipped the end of the string, his voice lowering as he regarded you with a dark look. “If we told you, we’d have to kill you.”

“Not if I kill you first.” You hissed, raising a leg to kick him. “Explain.”

“Okayyyyy fine!” he whined, shuffling out of the way to avoid your attack with a pout. “The son of the Sheriff is in our class, and we pay him to enlarge photos from the crime scenes that are suspected to be the Bayou Butcher.”

Your mouth flung open. “You WHAT?!?!” You yelled.

Ollie swiftly raised his hand to cover your mouth. “Shush, if mum hears you, we’re all dead!”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Reaching your hand up, you slapped his away. “We’re all dead regardless!!” You hissed. “Has the thought crossed either of your microscopic brains that what you’ve done is, like – I don’t know – super illegal??”

“It’s fine.” Allie shrugged. “If we guess that someone is onto us, we burn the evidence.”

Your looked between the two of them with wide eyes. “What if mum finds it when you’re both at school? What then??”

Allie sighed. “She won’t find it. Promise.” He stretched his arm up to the top of the board, flipping it over to show another side with random drawings and knick-knacks pinned to it. “We just flip it over and stick it in the wardrobe.”

“What, and pray she doesn’t get the urge to do her usual chores and find it as she’s hanging up your washing??” You contradicted.

“Yea pretty much.” Ollie replied.

You glanced between them worriedly, shaking your head. “You two are treading on thin ice here.”

“Yea yea but we didn’t bring you here to moan about everything.” Interrupted Ollie. “What we were trying to say before you rudely changed the subject was that this was our theory board.”

“Your illegal theory board.” You poked, crossing your arms.

Allie simply frowned up at you from where he was knelt on the floor, and you sighed.

“Fine. I’m guessing it’s about the Bayou Butcher?” You asked, before scrunching your face. “Why am I even asking? Of course it is.”

“Yep.” Ollie replied, his demeanour now more excitable. “Every grisly murder that matches his M.O. – well – our idea of his M.O. Along with every newspaper article about him, and maps of places the bodies have been found.” He explained, pointing each thing out. “We’re currently trying to figure out a potential pattern, but to no avail at this point.” He turned to you with a determined look in his eye – something you should be seeing on an actual detective, NOT your dingbat of a cousin. “But we will. At some point.”

You nodded slowly, absorbing the information. “Ok, so, why am I here?”

They both looked at each other, before facing back to you.

“To help us.”

“Absolutely not.”

Allie pouted. “Aww c’mon! We thought you liked this sort of stuff?” he whined, gesturing at you.

“Yea, from an outsider’s perspective! Not when there’s a potential for the police to come after me! Hell, this Butcher guy could find out you’re onto him and come after you himself!”

They rolled their eyes. “Ok, mum. No need to get your knickers in a twist.” Jived Allie. “We can guarantee you, no-one’s gonna find out.”

You raised an eyebrow. “How, then?”

“By not being stupid?” Ollie said as if it was the most obvious thing.

You sighed, thinking to yourself for a moment. “…Fine.” You held a finger up when their faces brightened. “But if anything gets dangerous, I’m burning it all myself.”

They both nodded excitedly, beckoning you over as they began to explain everything.

You knew at some point they would both be the death of you.

New Orleans, Louisiana, USA – Monday, 16th December, 1929.

The sun was still yet to melt the snow when you walked into town with your aunt that morning, arms linked as to not slip on the compacted ice as you both tried to step onto the trams that were miraculously still running. Your arms remained linked as both made your way to a wide, busy street just off the outskirts of the French Quarter, about a twenty minute walk from where the antique shop was.

Mr LeBlanc has graciously given you the day off, as a thank you for running the shop. His cough had receded, and was determined to return to work. Though his wife insisted on joining him in the shop for a couple days to keep an eye on his health, despite his grumbling.

“I can assure you Mr Durham is lovely.” Agnes said with unwavering confidence as she patted your arm with a knitted glove. “The interview should be over in fifteen minutes or so – you’ll be in-and-out before you even realise it, so there’s no need to worry.”

You gave her a shaky smile. “Hopefully. Though I haven’t been in any interviews to know if it’ll go well.”

“It will.” She stated firmly. “Now, do you remember what we went over when answering interview questions?” You nodded, and she slowed you both to a stop. “Brilliant. We’re here.” She gestured up to a relatively tall building, the brickwork looming over you as the wall above the doors displayed the words ‘W.A.D RADIO’ in bright, white paint.

Peering up at the five-storey building, you felt nerves creep up your spine as you began to sweat slightly.

“Oi, look at me.” Muttered Agnes, reaching out to gently take your shoulders as she turned you to her. “No matter what happens in there, it’s not the end of the world, I can promise you that.” She assured. Glancing her eyes across your face, she reached up to straighten the simple blue cloche hat she had let you borrow. “There should be a receptionist at the front desk, just go in and tell her your name and that you’re here for an interview with Mr Durham, ok? I’ll be waiting out here for you.”

The air in your throat stuttered as you took a deep breath, your nervousness a stark contrast to the anger-fuelled confidence you had when answering that phoner. Nodding silently, you returned your Aunt’s smile before stepping away and pushing the door open, hoping the ‘Good Luck!’ she had whispered to you would give some assist.

You could sense the receptionist staring at you as you sat staring blankly at the tiles on the floor ahead. Picking the non-existent dirt from under your nails, you felt the sickening nerves in your stomach ease slightly when you had sat on the worn, leather-clad bench, the conversation with the woman at the desk having gone as smoothly as you could make it, luckily without your mind going blank or stuttering on any words.

“Where did’ya say you were from again?” You heard, and you raised your head to see the receptionist leaning on her elbows on the desk, chewing on a pencil as she looked you up and down. “You’re English, but’cha don’t sound quite like those gents on the radio?” she questioned, her slightly nasally voice cutting through the air as she bore you down with her gaze.

You blinked. “…I’m from the North-East.”

She furrowed her brows, the wood of the pencil clacking on her teeth. “North-East a’what?”

“Of England? You know there’s over forty different accents used in the UK, right?.” You explained.

She looked you up and down once again. “Huh.” Was all she said, before she shrugged her shoulders, turning back to the paperwork she was pointedly ignoring, and you returned to fiddling with your hands, now choosing to pick at any loose lint on the hat laid on your lap.

About five minutes later, the sound of shoes clicking against tile tapped against your ears, and you looked up to see a man donned in business attire round the corner. He was rather tall and large, but in a soft muscular kind of way. His murky brown waves fell loosely over his forehead, peppered with streaks of grey along with his thick beard, and he still retained the tan from the summer, but his pale shade of skin was starting to show through again, softening the piercing blue of his eyes.

Speaking of eyes, it didn’t take him a second to scan the room before they landed on you, the cerulean if his iris’ turning an almost baby blue under the lights as they brightened at the sight of you.

“Ah! There you are!” He exclaimed, arms spreading wide to welcome you. “I was wondering when your aunt would drop you off!” His white teeth glistened as he gave a handsome, warm smile. Approaching where you sat, you quickly stood to take his large, outstretched hand, the warmth from him enveloping your snow-frozen skin. “I’m Mr Durham, co-owner of Watson & Durham Radio.”

You could see why your aunt let him take her out for dinner.

“– and you’ll be here Wednesday to Friday, from what your aunt said on the phone.” Mr Durham rambled on. You had been interviewed in his office on the third floor, but he had insisted on taking you on a tour around the expansive building. At first, he showed you your potential desk, positioned just outside his office, facing the rows of other desks that spanned the large room ahead.

Now you were taking the stairs to the fifth floor – ‘where the magic happened’ – according to the spritely man.

“These are the radio booths – each host gets their own.” Mr Durham explained, gesturing down the wide corridor.

Strangely, his pace seemed to quicken as he led you past the windows, but you tried your best to peer into each one. Some were dark, as no-one was in. Others were presenting, the ‘ON AIR’ sign above their door glowing bright, the rest were either chatting amongst each other, or alone in their booths, scribbling down in notebooks or on sheets of paper.

“– David, Jeff, Al, Brian, and Ol’ Timmy are all here – ‘cept the rest who have the day off.” Mr Durham listed off, pointing out each man as he rushed you by. “Though-” he lowered his voice a little. “- if you take the job, it’s best we keep you on the third floor.” You furrowed your brows at his odd comment, to which he spotted, quickly giving an explanation. “The boys can be a bit of a distraction you see. Being on the radio means you have to be charismatic, and I want you to settle in comfortably before I introduce you. A few can be quite… nosey. And overwhelming – some more than others.” He muttered, glancing into one of the booths near the end, and you looked over to see the back of a man’s head, his hair styled neatly from what you could see, and you watched as he gently tapped his foot to whatever was playing through his headset whilst he jotted away in the notebook on his desk.

As Mr Durham’s large shadow cast across him, he began to turn his head, and you managed to catch a glimpse of a pair of thin glasses before you walked out of sight of the window.

Thinking nothing of it, you followed the boss round the corner at the end of the hallway, and he continued to tour you around the building, pointing out the odd thing or person here and there.

The chill of the winter air hit your face once again as you pushed the front door open, and you scanned the street for your aunt. Glancing to the spot where she left you, a frown crossed your face as you found it empty, but barely a moment passed until your name was called out, and you looked up across the street to see your aunt stood outside the door of a café, waving for you to come over.

Cursing out America for having their jaywalking laws, you quickly searched for a crossing, speed-walking as fast as you could over the road despite the slippery snow as you jogged up to your aunt.

“So? How did it go?” she breathed excitedly as she led you inside to a small table, where there was already a steaming cup of tea waiting for you.

Grasping the warm beverage in your hands, you relayed the events of the last half hour to the woman bouncing in her seat across from you.

“Ok, but, were you happy with what you saw?” Agnes asked once you had finished.

You nodded. “Yea, pretty much.” You answered. “That Durham guy was already talking about me settling in before he offered me the job.”

Her back straightened. “He did?? Did you accept?” She gasped.

Looking at her over the top of your cup, you felt a smile grow on your face. “Mhm, I start Wednesday.”

Your aunt threw her hands in the air. “Oh thank god!” Her eyes darted about in frantic thought. “Oh! We’ve got to go shopping for some proper work clothes for you! Mr Durham is quite flexible with workwear but we’ll still go.” She rambled, pulling a piece of paper and a pen out her purse to start jotting things down, mumbling under her breath. “There’s a shop down the main street, and you’ll be needing some smarter trousers –”

“Speaking of Mr Durham,” you interrupted with a small smirk, watching Agnes accidentally jerk her pen across the paper as her wide eyes looked up at you. “He seems oddly fond of you. He asked me how the twins were getting on at school before he asked for anything about me.”

She froze, and you raised a brow.

“It’s also not like you to let some guy take you out. For dinner.” You added.

She glanced away, then back at you, slowly placing her pen down as she chewed the inside of her cheek.

“It’s not like that –”

“Sure it’s not.”

She sighed your name in exasperation. “We’re both regulars at this café, and we met back in January and have been friends since. Happy?” She explained rather curtly.

You narrowed your eyes at her. “Do the twins know about him? You know how protective they are over you since their dad passed.” You questioned gently.

Agnes closed her eyes, raising her hand to rub at her forehead. “They know, but they haven’t met him yet. Even if it does end up being ‘like that’, it’s been almost a decade since we lost Hiro, and it gets hard trying to raise two very energetic boys and keep a steady roof over their heads.” She stared into her drink with a faraway look as she recalled her late husband. “This world wasn’t built for women to be alone, and as infuriating as that sounds, I’ve been backed into a corner so many times that I only see someone like him as my one ticket out.”

Silence stretched between the two of you, as you let the words your aunt spoke about your uncle sink in. She hardly ever spoke of Hiro, so mentioning him now meant how serious she was.

“Alright.” You said softly, and her head raised to look at you. “I know I have no place telling who you can and can’t talk to, but please make sure both the twins and you are happy and safe. The last thing I want is a repeat of these last two years.”

A dark shadow crossed her face. “Oh believe me, it won’t.” she assured in a low tone. “If I knew the police weren’t going to show, I would have strangled Beatrice before she stepped a foot out the house.”

Nodding, you sighed, finally relaxing back in your seat as a natural silence fell over the two of you. Bringing the tea to your lips, you bathed in the fumes, watching passersby as they fought against the onslaught of the oncoming blizzard, and pondered about the possibilities of your first day at the radio company that sat on the opposite side of the street. Eyes unfocused, you stared blankly at the double doors that led into the towering brick building, thinking about when spring would come round and you could start to wear your summer dresses, but you focused back in when the double doors opened, and you watched as a man stepped out.

You couldn’t see his face, as it was lowered against the wind, but you recognised the mop of neatly styled, dark, brown hair that you had spotted earlier, but that was quickly hidden by the fedora he placed on his head, and your eyes caught the light of his round glasses, as they glinted in the dying light of the cloud-smothered sun, before he turned his shiny heel and strode down the street, seemingly not at all worried about slipping on patches of icy, packed snow.

What caught your eye the most, though, was how insanely tall this man was, and you figured – even at your tall height – that the top of your head would barely reach his nose, even on your tiptoes.

(Though, there was always the option to jump up and collide your forehead with his – if the need arises, of course.)

Unfortunately for you, however, this lanky ladder of a man was crossing the street.

Right towards the café.

Right towards you.

And you were basically turned in your seat to stare the demons out of this guy.

The brim of his hat began to raise, and you practically spun on the spot, the tea in your mug sloshing about, and you came face to face with your aunt, who had clearly seen the one-sided staring match you had had with the stranger.

Feeling the eyes of the man boring into the side of your temple, as you assumed he had seen you move at the speed of light to avoid looking at him, you smiled sheepishly at Agnes, who was not-so-subtly darting her eyes between the two of you.

A few seconds ticked on by at the speed of a snail, and it wasn’t until you aunt muttered a ‘He’s gone’, that you felt yourself deflate in relief, slumping in your chair as you gingerly put the mug in your hands back down on the table. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the back of the man’s trench coat as he carried on down the street out of sight, and you faced the woman in front of you.

“Sooo,” she began as she tried to hide the growing smile on her face. “Who’s that?”

“No clue.” You stated bluntly, eager to move the conversation along, lest your aunt turned into one of the women in your village, who would talk non-stop about their sons and grandsons when they found out you weren’t being courted. Or they would pester your mother about it. Either way, getting married was definitely not on your bucket list – and you wouldn’t be surprised if that lasted your whole life – you were quite satisfied with the thought of surrounding yourself with cats instead.

“Oh nuh-uh.” Agnes deadpanned, wagging a finger. “You don’t get to prod at me about men and not let me retaliate. Besides, Mr ‘No-Clue’ seemed an awfully pretty lad~”

You huffed. “Well I wouldn’t know, I’ve only clearly seen the back of his head, and according to Mr Durham,” you explained, lifting your hands to count on your fingers. “His name could be either David, Jeff, Al, Brian, or Ol’ Timmy.”

She raised a brow at you. “He looked like a David. Either way.” She smirked. “Your mum wouldn’t mind having someone like him as her son-in-law.”

You pouted. “Agnes, please.”

All your aunt did was laugh.

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

Gonne be uploading some art of MC soon >:))))

I hope you've enjoyed what I've given you so far, see you soon for Chapter 4!!

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halliescomut · 9 months

Text

Y'all want another rant??

I have seen so MANY cracked-out, poorly considered 'hot takes' this weekend, and wow are they aggravating. We can start with the continuing discussion regarding HeartStopper and it's author, who feels the fact that there are no sexual scenes in their work make it inherently better than other queer media. (Edit: The initial comment ppl point to is from 2017, but there has also been no clarity or further statements made despite this being regularly discussed, which is certainly not the norm for addressing divisive statements.) Now, the fact that she's mentioned things like this in conjunction with dismissal of East Asian and South East Asian BL, makes it clear that this is not simply a 'purity' thing, but also has racist undertones. My biggest issue though, is that it clearly demonstrates that they have not attempted to consume any of the available content out there. Are there BLs that focus on the sexual aspects of relationships? Yes, there's the Pornographer, but there's also My Dining Table. You have TharnType, but you also have My Only 12%. Hell, my absolute favorite BL is GameBoys, which first season ends in the ONLY kiss and the couple is still separated by a plastic barrier.

So how can you say that EVERY show revolves only around sex? Realistically you can't. And there's a whole slew of other issues with such statements, like the fact that for a vast majority of romantic couples, sex and physical chemistry is a vital and valued part of their relationships. Or the fact that reducing the queer media of a non-white culture down to sex alone contributes to the misleading idea that people of color are ruled by base human desires, and don't have the intellectual ability to create a romantic relationship based on something other than sex. Honestly, it's giving very British, unsurprisingly.

The reality is that in the world they created in HeartStopper, an overt focus on a sexual relationship would feel vastly out of place. Both because of the age of the characters, but the tone of the story. It's a romanticized coming-of-age/coming out story that revolves around first love. It's intention is to focus on the emotions involved in those experiences in a 'rose-colored glasses' type of way. It's why we've seen plenty of gay men criticizing the show by saying it's unrelatable. And while I don't imagine that it's 100% true representation for every gay man out there, I'd say that's based more on it being distinctly romanticized in a way the real life rarely is. I think it's also intended to be slightly aspirational, it shows a world where more often than not a queer teen's family, friends, community, and society are supportive, kind, and loving; something that has rarely been the reality of many queer adults today. It's not wrong or bad to be aspirational, it's a facet of the queer experience that is necessary, but it should not be taken as a replacement for more 'realistic' queer media, especially in an attempt to sanitize the lived experiences of thousands of queer men.

(I'd like to note that I do intentionally tag any posts that I make about HS as BritishBL because I'm a petty bitch.)

The amount of sex either alluded to or shown in a piece of media does not indicate it's value. If you have done even a mild foray into BL outside of Thailand, then you are likely well aware that Chinese and South Korean BL is often promoted as being more 'tame' or 'respectable' than Thai BL, or even Japanese BL. But if you think critically about it for even a moment, you're able to easily conclude that the reason those countries often produce queer media that's more on the level of a PG or PG-13 rating is because there are still very strict societal AND governmental standards that prevent the presentation of queer media. It's rare if not unheard of to have shows or movies based on queer written media show even a single kiss, and it's because of homophobia, when you move outside of China to places like Taiwan (which China still considers to be part of it's empire) you may see more 'explicit' presentations of queer relationships, but they often still skew towards being more in that PG-13 range. I've inserted below a chart that I pulled for another project, but is applicable here as well showing the legality of same-sex relationship as well as the legal protections of them (i.e. same-sex marriage recognition or adoption)

While for China and North Korea in particular, we have to sort of accept their word, you can see that for the vast majority of East Asian countries, same-sex relationships are not illegal, but they area also not actively supported. And while progress has been made in many places, there is still a long way to go to offering them equal opportunities and protections. And, as is always true, the negative effects of bigotry and homophobia have the largest impacts on those that live in poverty or are members of other marginalized communities. So while, you may see rich and privileged queer people from these countries living their life without much backlash, that is never going to be the lived experience of your everyday gay salaryman.

Just want to pause here and say this next part is not related to Alice in any way, it's just another aspect of upsetting to me discourse I saw this weekend.

Moving on to another very concerning discussion that I saw revolving around Mew and Top in the first episode of Only Friends. The are SO MANY comments being made on edits all over social media dissing Mew for choosing not to have sex with Top once they got to his apartment. With the vast majority saying something along the lines of 'He's hot, Mew should have just done it", "Virginity isn't even a real thing", "He knew what Top wanted when he invited him over", and it honestly gets more frustrating and disturbing from there. The #1 key to consent is that it is ALWAYS ongoing and you have the right to revoke it at anytime. It is an incredibly valid criticism of Thai BL that they waffle a little bit with that consent line, and I feel like some of the same people who argued that the sex between Lom and Nuea in Wedding Plan last week was iffy consent because Lom was clearly drunk, are spouting these bullshit opinions about Top and Mew. Consent can be and often is a VERY nuanced conversation. Mew believing that he was ready for sex with Top when he left that bar, and realizing that he wasn't once they got back to his apartment is incredibly realistic. It happens to a lot of people, and unfortunately those people are often not with someone like Top, who in that moment was willing (even if not precisely happy) to forego sex. This is a scene that shows what a reaction SHOULD be to a removal of consent. You don't have to be happy about it, but as a human who hopefully has respect for the other human involved, you should respect it.

As far as the 'virginity is a social construct thing'--you're right it is. But it is not wrong or weird for a person to prefer that there be a personal and emotional connection between themselves and a potential sexual partner. There's literally a whole sexuality where a person does not feel romantic or sexual attraction WITHOUT an emotional connection.

That's not to say that this automatically concludes that Mew is definitely intended to be demisexual, it's possible that this is fully unintentional on the part of the writer, director, or actor. But in terms of negatively reacting to this scene on public social media, you are actively dismissing the very real feelings of very real people who you may be interacting with. Because just as there is absolutely nothing wrong with being comfortable having sex without feelings being involved, the same is true in reverse. As with all things related to sex, it's about the comfort of the person participating in the act, beyond that there is no 'better' or 'right' way to feel about it.

And moving onto that last incredibly upsetting point...that Mew knew what was going to happen when he left the bar with Top, how disgusting of a take. There are literally thousands of people, most female presenting, who get asked that same question when reporting sexual violence from people they were dating, or met in bars. The dismissal of a person's autonomy because 'they knew what they were getting into' is nothing more than disgusting. It's not just a bad take, or a problematic one, it's a take that feeds into the victim-blaming society that we live in and makes it more and more difficult for survivors of sexual violence to come forward, and impedes our ability to install tenets of consent in our society as a whole. By continuing to spout such ridiculous and disgusting ideas, you are setting a standard that prevents ANYONE from revoking consent at any time and enables assaulters to pressure people into sex, or just bypass their consent completely, knowing that the likelihood of actual repercussions is very low.

So I guess TLDR- All levels of intimacy (both physical and emotional) are important in queer media, from the most innocent to the most carnal, and healthy representations of consent conversations, especially those that show people's autonomy as being fully respect should be praised, not dismissed.

#HeartStopper #BritishBL #only friends the series #TopMew #Thai BL #East Asian BL #South East Asian BL #Nick and Charlie #Nick Nelson #Charlie Spring #HeartStopper season 2 #This has been a rant

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