#[what does this mean brain. tell me. why send me plot dreams. what are you asking for.]

[kkkindered]

woke up from a nap with the vision of a reply that shook my soul. and no one to share it with 😔

[hyewka]

STRICTLY PLATONIC [teaser] | choi beomgyu

SUMMARY. fucking your best friend was supposed to be a one time thing in the hopes of relinquishing feelings for your ex, but a one time turned into a weekly and cuddles after sex are way too intimate for your liking. but beomgyu insists that he’d never catch feelings for you, that he’s experienced in these types of arrangements. he still saw you as his best friend! it was totally only platonic for you too… right?

GENRE. smut, fluff, angst, college au, a hyewka fic with plot and structure.. sort of

TEASER WARNINGS. nothing explicit just some marking lol

AUTHOR NOTE. the dream fwb fic ive been wanting to write for ages so thank you to the ask i recently replied to as it was the main motivator for this 😭 this is going to be a long one so we're going the traditional route with a teaser, im opening a tag list so if you wish to be added send an ask or comment!

You’ve never seen Choi Beomgyu in a different light. That’s what you liked about him, that everything was so… constant. Your life could crash and burn but hey, Beomgyu was still Beomgyu— your friendship was a variable in your life that stayed undeniably the exact same.

You know, until you allowed him to fuck your brains out.

Even the sole fact that you have given the thought of Beomgyu being a ‘sex symbol’ has you quivering out of sheer horror— Beomgyu… has never been a sex symbol. Sure, he fucked around, and has a reputation and yeah sure, he was crazy hot when he isn’t showing signs of extreme sleep deprivation …but you’ve just never seen him in that light.

And to have let it simmer in your thoughts for longer than a second, makes you just a tinge hesitant in letting the silly goof pull you into the dancing crowd. You whine, “I’m tired Beomgyu! My heels are killing me.”

He either doesn’t hear over the blasting music or isn’t going to give it up because he pulls you in anyway, crashing your head right into his chest and you let out an instinctual ouch at the hard surface. Your eyes are wide looking up at him, sputtering out an unbelievable sentence. “Have you—have you been working out?”

His grin widens, holding up your arm to guide at feeling out his biceps. “Every now and then.” He doesn’t mind the minute it takes you to actually feel every muscle through his shirt, in fact he’s relishing in your sudden pique of interest in his body.

Whether he’s flexing them or not doesn’t show in his face—he looks completely relaxed and you finally admit—Beomgyu is getting toned.

“Why? You hate working out.” You could barely muffle those words with the way he had you engulfed in his arms, leaning his head in your neck, swaying side to side as if the song blasting was off of Taylor Swift’s Lover and not a Lil Wayne remix.

And he hasn’t even gotten a drop of alcohol yet.

But it’s true, Beomgyu hated the gym. Like, even more than you did. Which is a testament in and of itself.

He pulls away from the crook of your neck, a pout on his lips. “Didn’t you say your type was muscular men? At Halloween weekend?”

Halloween weekend was a year ago, the first frat party you managed to get into with the help of Beomgyu’s friend, Jake. You barely remember anything from it. Other than the occasional retells of the nights by Yunjin’s words, which are always a different version of the same story... so a not very credible source. “I mean, I guess they are. But what does that have to do with anything?”

“I don’t know, just saying. Jaehyun was suuper muscly.” Okay, the random mention of your ex…maybe he had some drop of alcohol.

“Are you drunk?”

“You took too long to come back, lost at beer pong.”

“How many shots?” you interrogate.

“Two.” At your suspecting glare, he continues on, “Four…five…like, at most seven.”

Your eyes bulge out, huffing out a scoff. You guys always got wasted together! Noticing the furrow of your brows he holds you tighter whining, “I know I know, sorry, I tried telling Heeseung but he’s a savage cruel man, I was practically force fed that cup.”

You don’t doubt that he attempted to persuade Heeseung but you do doubt the force feeding, it only takes a couple nudges before getting Beomgyu to drink. “I’m just slightly tipsy, not drunk yet anyway. I pledged to never ever get trashed without you. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

You slap away the hand he puts up over his chest, incredulously, losing your control over the fits of giggles when he takes your flying hand in his, taking advantage by intertwining your fingers together. “What are you doing?” your cheeks probably hurt from all the smiling, you don’t know, you think your nerves are numb.

“Can’t a guy hold his twin flame, platonic best friend’s hand?”

Skinship was not an unfamiliar with Beomgyu—he was always a naturally clingy guy. You figured when the first ever official lunch hangout you’ve had with the boy and a few of your other friends, had included a lot of random footsie.

You didn’t even know him that well in high school. Who plays footsie with an acquaintance? Choi Beomgyu, that’s who. Yet even after some reluctance that day, you end up letting him have his childish, sort of endearing fun.

Though this was all but childish, the innocently mischievous twinkle of a scrawny teenage boy had been long gone, instead replaced by the most attractive man’s hungry, lust filled gaze. “Who told you to look so sexy today?”

The theme was Angel & Devil—to match with Beomgyu, you insisted on giving him the angel outfit, and you the costume of a devil. Matching was always the fun part of these parties. “Only today?” you drawl, making an exaggerated sultry trail with your finger on his chest.

“God, shut up, you know you’re always hot,” You don’t expect the seriousness of his tone, especially when you were just teasing, but he snakes his hand around your waist, pushing you further into his body, your tits suffocatingly pressed against his chest.

You do not expect the slight squeeze to your ass, your eyes shooting particularly wide, blood rushing up to trickle your cheeks. “But I like it when you’re a little devil, makes you so sexy and alluring.”

His face buried into your neck again, this time not missing the chance of taking a deep inhale. Beomgyu could stay like this forever, filling his lungs with you, and only you. “Still can’t believe I had my hands off you for so long little devil.” Your eyes flutter shut, taking quick breaths as he moves his soft lips to your neck, wet kisses with a slip of teeth nibbling just slightly to tease, planning on coloring you with all the pretty purple hues.

And you’re sure he was well on his way until you sober up at the abrupt change in the DJ’s track.

“Beomgyu, not—not now, we’re in public.” And surrounded by tons of people that you’re either friends with or know. That broke one of the most important pillars of your agreement—to keep the fuck buddies ‘thing’ a secret.

You don’t expect the speed of his instant pull away when processing your words, blinking his pretty lashes and the tipsiness away—his doe eyes are too much of a weakness, the little furrow of his brows something you desperately want to kiss and smoothen out. “Oh. Oh yeah. Sorry.” he scratches the back of his neck, genuinely apologetic.

And eats away at you. You know Beomgyu well—he hates keeping things secret, he’s the type of person to flaunt relationships all over his feed in that lovesick puppy way that most women could only dream of having—but you weren’t dating. And that was the boundary set.

You didn’t ask him to pull away completely though, but here you were, awkwardly as distanced as you could be in the middle of a rager with sweaty college students rubbing their bodies against each other. As gross as that was, you zero’d in on something less of a given: the fact that you’ve never felt this way with Beomgyu. Ever. It was like you were starring in the most awkward coming of age indie movie, y’know, without the crazy scenery and cinematography.

And more often than not, you find that these occurance of realisations, become more and more frequent. You feel things you’ve never felt a certain way with Beomgyu. Which only brought you to realize something else; Beomgyu was now a changing variable in your life and you’re not entirely sure how to handle that.

[phoenixyfriend]

AU where it's Padme that goes all evil and not Anakin?

send me an au and i’ll give you 5+ headcanons about it

Had some trouble figuring out how to make Anakin not be loyal to Padme here, but hey:

Padme does not think she's evil. This is a Padme who was radicalized by the invasion of Naboo, a Padme who grew up and joined the Senate with poison in her heart, which only got stronger as she saw how little she was able to do. This is a Padme who agrees with Anakin: the galaxy would be much better if one good person was in charge. That good person should be Her.

She doesn't tell him that she agrees with him, because she's still under the radar, but she doesn't... really try to dissuade him. Just talks about how difficult it is to find someone that's really, truly good. Why, even Chancellor Palpatine has made all these questionable policy decisions...

Padme is much faster and more successful about securing Anakin's loyalty as compared to Palpatine. She's also been kind of conditioning Anakin to think about how she'd be a MUCH better dictator than anyone else, and how he should run any kind of political ideas past her first. She conditions him to run everything past her. She's got this perfect in with the Chancellor and the Jedi that isn't just Her, The Senator, but she needs that in to be loyal to only her, and more importantly, dependent on her. She does really, truly love her Ani, but he's much more useful when he asks her to do his thinking for him. What this really means is that when Anakin has dreams about her death, and goes to Palpatine, and gets fed some lines about how only Palpatine can save her if Anakin just swears loyalty to him, Anakin actually asks Padme about what to do before he does it. He goes to Padme before he goes to the Jedi. Padme tells Anakin that Palpatine needs to be removed. If he's a Sith, then who's to say that he isn't the threat to Padme's life? Who's to say he isn't the one feeding Anakin these dreams? Palpatine is evil, Anakin, and he's made it impossible to remove him from power legally.

Padme tells Anakin to kill Palpatine. And he does. And Padme's years and years of manipulating the Senate in shady corners and through applying her wiles and through applying her Jedi and his mind tricks to her coworkers, through collecting blackmail and applying pressure, it all comes together, and Padme becomes the Empress.

Anakin is happy to follow her, until he realizes that she's so focused on her new power that she's neglecting the twins. He tries to dismiss it; after all, he's got much more free time than she does, now, so he can watch them. He's mostly the guy she uses to try to placate the Jedi, which he's not great at, and mostly the Jedi try to convince him that Padme's lost her shit and needs to be quietly removed. Not killed! Just... retire to her fancy lake house and stop ruling the Empire with an iron fist in a fancy silk glove.

Padme doesn't... not love her children. But between the years of selling out her lesser morals in favor of pursuing complete control of the galaxy for the sake of her biggest moral core, which is No Military Actions, and the Sithly Environs of the Chancellery Apartments that she's moved into, which Anakin doesn't know how to purge and the Jedi aren't allowed in to exorcise, she's kind of losing the plot and getting more and more evil. It's mostly her own foibles that are making her go evil, but it's the General Sithly Vibe are pushing her that last little bit to just... ignore her kids. She's got more important things to do, right?

Padme uses the clone army to enact her will on less cooperative planets. She uses the brain chips, when Anakin isn't looking. She's sure that he wouldn't turn his back on her, after all she's done to secure his loyalty, but it's best to not risk it.

Some Jedi try to take her out. She has them killed, by Anakin and the clones alike. She praises Anakin for it, as she tightens restrictions on the Temple. He has a bit more 'what have I done' but not. Quite. Yet. (After all, Padme's not risking death to the Jedi Younglings yet. Not yet. Not yet.)

Ahsoka shows up, with Rex in tow, and tries to convince Anakin to help them peacefully remove Padme from power. He's one of the core reasons that Padme has managed to maintain her power. He can change this. Padme hears about this. He tells Anakin that Ahsoka's a threat. She's going to try to remove Padme, like Anakin removed Palpatine. She tells Anakin that Ahsoka needs to die.

Anakin would rather arrest his wife than kill his sister.

[holly-fixation]

Transition

Summary: Sephiroth learned the voice he hears is his mother's. She speaks to him far more often, molding him into the perfect son. 

A short collection of memories from his childhood.

Author's note: Beyond the main plot, these are loosely connected scenes, and it can completely be read on its own. Since it would have been a transitional chapter (like a 1.5), it doesn't have a true ending. Be sure to read chapter 2 of Since the Beginning if you want to see how it all ends for this silver haired boy!

…

After weeks of testing, Hojo told him the voice wasn't real. It was only the result of a bad mutation in his head, and he should not tell anyone about it or speak to it outside the lab. But she helped him. How could she be bad? She was his mother. Her words aided him time and time again even before Gast heard him speak to her. Once he learned who she was, he wanted to speak to her all the time, but that made Hojo angry, so he tried to keep their conversations short.

He awoke in the middle of the night, hours before his day truly began. He tried closing his eyes, breathing slowly, lowering his heartbeat until he returned to the realm of dream just as he was trained. But he didn’t. He was wide awake. He was nervous, but he hoped Hojo was asleep. 

He mumbled in the softest voice he could manage. “Mother? Are you awake?”

I am here. 

She sounded soft and kind as always, flooding his mind with care, but he couldn’t ignore the butterflies in his stomach. “I don’t mean to bother you…”

You are no burden to me.

“...I can’t sleep…” He admitted, countering her claim despite sensing the truth in her words, hiding his face in his blanket.

That gives us time.  

He almost smiled. “Really…?” During all the scans and tests on his brain, she only had time to comfort him. They had not truly spoken since he asked who she was.

You have many questions about me. Ask.

Sephiroth let out a sigh bordering on a pout. “Hojo didn’t let me ask before, but um… How are we talking? And where are you, Mother?”

You are my son. 

He bundled himself tighter at the title she had never used. My son.

We are bound by blood and mind. I convert my feelings to words and send them to you. When you grow older, you will communicate with me wordlessly.

“R-really?” Excitement bubbled in his chest before popping quietly. “Why can’t I do it now?”

You are young. Your mind needs further development. Until then, I read your body when you cannot respond.

“Does that work?” 

There was a small pause.

For now. 

“But where are you? Are you in the lab too?”

I am far.

“How far?”

Across The Planet. 

Cat-like eyes fell silently. “Will you ever come see me…?” He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear the answer, but he needed to know.

One day, you will find me.

“Why do I need to find you?”

There was another pause, a longer one. Then a single bang on his door clanged and he gasped, terrified of an orderly stepping in and punishing him before a warm breeze wisped through him. Sleep finally pulled. He nuzzled his pillow.

Another time, perhaps. For now, rest, Sephiroth.

He recognized the feelings inside him. “Why…?”

You need your energy for training. Take what I give.

She gave him comfort. She gave him warmth. He wanted to share it with her but he didn't know how.

“Thank you, Mother…” That was all he could do. 

If he didn’t know better, he would have sworn he felt pets to his hair as he drifted off into the harsh mattress of his cell.

* * * 

“Sephiroth, be quiet and focus,” Hojo’s shrill tone tore through the air, making the boy shake his head and completely disregard his other conversation. The scientist flipped a switch, a door opening and a new robot entering the training arena at once.

The child hesitantly took a defensive stance, whispering so only Mother could hear him, “I don’t wanna get hurt again…”

You are capable of defeating this creature.

“But it always hurts me… can you take away the pain again…?” He took slow steps backward as the machine whirred closer.

“Quit whining. I’m not turning it off,” the scientist spat, “so take it down quickly or suffer until you do.”

Removing your pain depletes your energy. You will be helpless.

The machine swung. He rolled under its attack before barely having time to lock its second blade with his singular weapon. “It’s getting smarter… And stronger…! I'm gonna get hurt bad!” 

“Boy, if you speak to that useless voice again, there will be consequences. Get it together.”

Pain is necessary to know when you are in peril. It is a machine. It attacks in a pattern. Discover that pattern and it will fall. 

It rushed him with a flurry of slashes, cutting into his arms with every failed parry. He cried out, trying to retaliate but forced to remain on the defensive. 

Jump left.

The silver haired boy obeyed without hesitation. The machine’s next attack couldn’t reach him, yet he was closer to its body. 

It always mirrors its first attack. Left-right. Up-down. Right diagonal-left diagonal. Follow and strike the red of its center. 

Sephiroth nodded. She was right. Of course she was. With her direction, his attacks grew stronger, sharper, cleaner. He finally took steps closer, pressuring the machine into a corner.

You are not gaining strength. You are focusing the strength inside you.

He pulled his blade back and thrusted forward, a perfect pierce through robot’s circuits severing its connection to its limbs. It twitched and sputtered, lightning buzzing as it tried to obey its commands but quickly crashed to its side in a meaningless heap.  

“See what happens when you finally take this seriously? You would be far better if you paid attention from the beginning.”

Sephiroth hung his head in shame.

Learn to find these patterns and openings. My words may not reach you in time. 

The boy mouthed a silent ‘thank you’, hoping his mother understood. But before he could threaten celebration, the door clicked and began rising once more, revealing a slightly larger machine.

“Now, again.”

* * * 

Sephiroth’s imagination ran wild with images he hoped would be his mother. She knew of his question and promised to show him one day. For weeks, he managed to keep his curiosity silent. For weeks, he asked so many questions with so much emotion in his heart. But he couldn't ignore his desire forever. 

“Mother, I'm ready,” He spoke so quietly against his pillow, terrified Hojo would hear. There was an odd pause. She always responded faster than this. What happened?

…My true form is not what you hope.

“It doesn't need to be.” 

He felt her denial, cold and isolated. 

“You said you can show me…”

I have much to explain first. 

“But you said I'm not ready for an explanation…” She confirmed his statement with a warm stir, but he didn't want to feel warm. “You sound like Hojo…”

That is not my intention.

Ice. Freezing sharpness pierced him despite the calm lull of her voice. He didn't want to make her mad. Why did he always do this? He hid, bowing his head into his sheets. 

I am not angry with you. 

“B-But I messed up…”

A sharp knock hit the door. “Another word out of you and we'll resume training, boy. Am I clear?”

Sephiroth nodded quickly. “Yes, sir. I apologize.”

Footsteps receded and the little boy buried his head. What was he supposed to do now? 

Listen to my words. Respond only with movement. 

He felt the smallest comfort. He nodded slowly, his nose brushing the scratchy fabric. 

I know your desire to be normal. Your longing to be human. 

Another confirmation. 

Yet you know you are special?

He shook his head. Hojo told him he was, but why would he believe it?

You are not told lies. But the truth is hidden from you. You are not normal. Not fully.

Silver brows crossed. 

Not fully human. 

He violently denied the claim, clenching and curling tightly. 

I am not human. You carry part of me. 

She couldn't be right. Maybe-

I am real. Hojo is lying to you. He does not understand what we have is true and inseparable.

He hesitated. 

I warn you of this because I worry you will fear me… if you see me. 

His breath bated. His eyes stung. He didn't want it to be true. 

Sephiroth, rest. Breathe. 

Now he was afraid, afraid of a horrid, incomprehensible monster trapping and choking him just like his training. 

I will never harm you. And when pain is unavoidable by any skill or talent to gain true strength, I will take all feeling away. 

He wanted those words to be true but nothing else she said tonight. 

Do you still wish to gaze upon my form tonight?

Terror twisted his throat as he moved his head up and down slowly. 

I will give you time to rest. And through dream, I will show myself to you.

Sephiroth hid hid face in his pillow, stifling his uncontrollable sobs. Crying was a weakness. He needed to stop. He needed to be stronger and better, but then he felt the same petting on his back as he had before. 

It's okay. It's okay. 

Instead of beratement, she validated his fear. 

Feel the weight. Overthrow it. Emotions are necessary. Allow them to flow until peace remains. 

He sobbed harder at her kind advice, the wetness of his pillow growing beneath his cheeks. She was so different. She was so much better than everyone at Shinra. But she wasn’t human? What was he supposed to do? After much time, his breath regulated, and his eyes fell close in quiet acceptance of the request he affirmed.

He felt nothing around him, an endless black void consuming all. He floated, unable to see anything beyond his own body.

This was not a normal dream. He had full control of his hands and his legs and his thoughts.

Ahead of him, a light began to glow, the end of its beams visible through the darkness. First it gave him warmth and color, then it slowly showed him something new. 

Her face. Her silver hair. Her imperfect skin. At first she looked normal despite the glowing pink eye. She almost looked human. But as more entered the light, more twisted and changed. The tube from her stomach connecting to her heart, a massive one at her feet, not in her chest. Severed wings protruded from her back. Unexplainable coils only vaguely resembling organs that did not belong scattered the sides of her almost human form. 

She wasn't human. But he couldn't stop looking at her face. 

He didn't want to move, even as thick tentacles extruded out of the massive heart languidly, tenderly wrapping around his body. He tried leaving her grasp as a simple test, and without any resistance his arm was free. 

She gave him a choice. 

No one ever gave him a choice.

He let her hold him, allowed the slithering limbs to bundle him. She was cool, not cold, but the faintest sense of warmth under her skin made him want to be closer. He wanted to be near her, to see her, to hold her. But this dream was all he had. 

“After tonight, can I see you again?” Sephiroth forced his thoughts into the void. He couldn't say them awake, so he decided to say them here. 

The sincerity in his heart clashed with the eeriness of her smile. Her glowing pink gaze overflowed with a suffocating emotion he did not recognize but craved with his whole being. 

Could it possibly be love?

* * * 

For months she visited his dreams, the hope he'd see her again always making him rush into sleep. However, he had so many questions: if she wasn't human, what was she? What was she doing here? Was he supposed to be doing something too? 

His mother always answered him honestly. Her knowledge made too much sense. With his eyes and his hair and Hojo's muttering of his unbelievable strength, she was right. Of course she was. 

Would you rather be human? 

He was still hesitant. He didn't have an answer yet. Somewhere inside he wanted to be normal. Yet somewhere else he wanted to be greater. 

Studying and learning were difficult now. He desired the knowledge of the textbooks, but he also prioritized Mother over all. 

Some days, he wasn't good at hiding that truth. 

A snap directly into his ear made him flinch. 

“Stop daydreaming, boy. Your presentation to the board is in three days. Do not make a fool of all the work I've done here by going in without any knowledge.”

He glanced down. “But I really like fire materia. Why do I have to learn all this other stuff?”

“Fire will not be the answer to all your problems. Further knowledge will prepare you for a multitude of scenarios, whether or not you've faced them before.”

Materia is the knowledge of the Ancients. Knowing their spells will prevent you from my fate. 

He couldn't stop his small gasp. She answered his question. He didn't ask her but she answered anyway, and her reasoning was far stronger than the scientist's. He flicked his inhuman eyes back to the text. 

Hojo flicked a switch and the door suddenly opened. “Back to training. You'll receive a new scenario to apply this concept.”

Sephiroth looked up, moving slowly and carefully. “But I still need to figure it out.”

“You'll learn on the battlefield. How many times have I told you to silence that voice?”

How did he know? How did he know?! “It just clicked. This. The reason to use other types of materia. Hojo, I didn't-”

“Did you listen to the voice?”

“I was trying to understand-”

“Did you. Listen. To the voice?”

“I can't control when She speaks!” He instantly wished he could rip his words back, to swallow them down his nervous throat. Why did Hojo always know when he lied?

The scientist stood firm. “To the training room. Right now.”

Sephiroth gulped thickly and retrieved his sword. “Yes, Hojo…”

He is cruel to you. 

He is evil. Human.

Her voice rang through his head, reverberating like a bell as he walked. 

He harms you for such a small infraction. Humans are evil.

He truly began to see it as he entered the chamber, and three beasts ran in without warning. 

I will protect you if these creatures poison you. However, you can handle this. Focus. Breathe. Don't let Hojo win again. Prove him wrong. Show him your strength with and without the knowledge he forced upon you. 

Show him your inhumanity. 

Break his spirit before breaking free of this lab. You will not be free today, but show him what you will do when you are.

A fire burned in Sephiroth's heart, incinerating his childish fears from her words alone. She did not give him this feeling. This was his heart, begging him to be inhuman, begging him to win. 

He swore he would be free.

He swore he would find her.

He swore he would finally have his Mother at his side.

.

.

.

.

Thanks for reading!

Since the Beginning - Part 1, Part 2

[lix-ables]

late night call | lee felix–

༊ genre – nsfw, minors dni

༊ pairing // l.felix x fem!reader

༊ cw: mentions of edging, teasing, use of the pet names pup, pet, buttercup, love, etc.

༊ summary; est. relationship. he's working late at night, practicing. you get needy, missing your boyfriend, and decide you want to tease him, but turns out he has other plans altogether.

༊ a/n.; im taggin @chrisbahng coz bestie got big brains,, and they helped me carry the plot fr 😩📈 // that aside, lemme know if y’all wanna be in a taglist, and i’ll make an official one.

“baby you’re doing so good, you’re so good to me, aren’t you?” 

you wake up from your sleep, realizing that it was yet another night without felix next to you, and you had to admit it, you missed him. you reach for your phone, checking the time. 

it was late. and felix was still at practice, but that didn’t stop you from sending him a text. 

                                                                                   baby 02:19

heyy, what you doin up huh? 02:20

                                                                               you’re still up practicing? 02:20

                                                                               it’s late, right? 02:20

yeah..i know pup, i’ll be home soon 02:20

                                                                              lix..you know what~ 02:21

i know what? 02:21

ah, your pet name? 02:23

you haven’t told me why you’re up yet 02:23

at his last text you call him, and he picks up at the third ring. “hey, love. what’s up? its late innit?” felix’s low voice stirs something in your stomach, but you couldn’t tell him, as much as you wanted to. “had a dream,” you mumble, sitting up in bed. your fingers reach to tug an olive green sweater from the bottom of the bed. felix’s sweater, the old worn out material still hanging on to its dear life, but you loved it. you remove your shirt, and place it next to your bra, not bothering to fold it. you placed the phone on the bed, and heard your boyfriend hum a reply. his voice was muffled right after, and you knew he was talking to someone in the studio. 

you pull the sweater close to you, wearing it, the scratchy material making your nipples perk up, a gasp escaping your lips. you hoped felix hadn’t heard that, and tugged the sweater down to cover your body. it barely came to your thighs but it was alright. it would do for the long run.

“lix?” you call out for the boy on the other line, and his reply came almost immediately. “yep, im here. sorry, darlin’, minho was asking what we wanted to practice next.”

you bit the inside of your cheek, waiting for him to continue, and started to speak, but felix’s voice interrupted you. “say, babe. did you just moan?” “n-no, why?” you stutter a reply back. “sounded like you did. so, what was the dream about?” he asks, ignoring your stutter, lucky for you. “w-was about you,” you start.

“yeah? and what was i doing? fucking you or getting you off?” his voice becomes an octave lower, making you bite your bottom lip hard. “w-what made you think of that?” you let out a mewl, your nails digging into the sweater material. “chill, babe. i was kidding,” he chuckles. “but what if y-you weren’t,” you ask, sucking in your breath. 

“what do you mean?” felix asks, his voice sounding closer to the phone, like he was hiding a secret. his tone was stern, but soft, and it reminded you of the time he fingered you to the point you were crying for him to stop. it seemed so long ago, the memory fading. 

“i asked you a question, pet.”

you could feel yourself getting wetter at the pet name, your throat felt drier, and you needed him. “n-need–” “need what, hmm?” 

you whine in protest, hoping he would figure out, like he always does. you didn’t want to say it out loud, to yourself or to him. you wanted to tell him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. after a minute of thinking you lay back down against your pillow, your free hand still tugging onto the hem of the sweater. your fingers pull it up your waist, feeling the roughness against your bare skin, sending shivers all the way down to your core. your pulled it up till you felt chillness around your waist and you thighs, till you knew where you had to stop. 

“i’m waiting, love,” felix’s voice says, his voice becoming impatient and huskier. you heard his phone vibrate, telling him he had a notification. “i’m literally on call with you, you can just tell me, buttercup. you don’t–” his voice gets cut off, and he lets out a small “fuck” before clearing his throat. “you better be fucking glad no one was around to see it, baby. you know what you do to me and..jesus.” 

felix sighs, you heard rustling in the background. you didn’t know if you should be smiling, or you should apologize. instead you say, “can i touch myself, lix? p-please?”

“fuck, just how badly do you miss me, pup?” at this point, it sounded like he was frustrated. “you expect me to let you play with yourself, when you sent me that pic right now, huh?” “w-want it, please~” you moan out, your fingers reaching to pinch your nipples, your breathing getting heavy. 

“shit, fine go ahead baby, touch yourself for me. imagine me fucking you so good with my fingers, hm?” you whimper at his words, his tone getting breathier. “but,” he continued, “you’re not going to cum. i don’t fucking care how much you want it, you’re going to be good, yeah?”

“b-but–” you start. “you, are not gonna cum. if you want to cum, you’re to have to beg,” he says, “beg, and maybe i’ll let you cum.” your hand reaches inside your panties, ready to touch yourself, but was stopped with the sound of minho calling out to felix for practice. you mewl, calling out to your boyfriend, who could be heard walking away from his friend, saying he’ll be a minute.

“okay, you’re going to listen to me, pet. you’re going to play with yourself, thinking of me and how i am going to fucking ruin you until you’re a mess under me. you’re going to imagine me getting you so close to letting go, but pulling away because i can, can you do that for me?”

your loud, broken moan filled your dark bedroom and felix’s ears, causing him to let out a string of curses under his breath. “i wish i was there, baby. i want to take care of you, and watch you come undone on my fingers and my cock. but i am going to be back in the morning, and i’m all yours.”

[depresseddistraughtdisillusioned]

If You Can't Have the Job You Love, Love the Job You Have?

Following our dreams, finding our passions, and chasing our purpose has left a lot of us bereft, directionless, adrift, and missing everything on the list.

Perhaps life should be defined as "Learning to cope with disappointment."

So I began to wonder, "What if I devoted myself to being good at my job? What opportunities might I find there? Since I've been without direction for years, meandering, why not grab whatever anchor is there and see where it leads me?"

I've never learned much about storytelling nor plot arcs, nor character development. I barely pay attention to all my grammarizing or syntacticality.

Incidentally, syntax is among my favorite words.

What if I really started throwing myself into it? Started taking more shifts for more money, just to expedite moving. It might not be the greatest thrill, but a little workaholism might not be the worst thing to indulge in right now.

I'm just concerned about what that does to my psyche.

It's hard to know exactly where to focus your attention. Sometimes you're better off seeking something to pursue, rather than something to avoid. For instance, becoming really involved in exercise could be the same goal as not smoking pot. If your goal is not to smoke, you're moving away from something. That can be more difficult, because you're still focused on the activity. Focusing on not doing it is not that different from focusing on doing it.

The reason for this is neurological. In a very rudimentary sense, your brain sends two signals when you tell yourself not to do something. The first signal says "do the thing." The second signal negates the first one, sending a "do not do the thing." When most people stand near a ledge they will get this sensation. You will likely get a wild thought about jumping off the edge. This can happen if you are a perfectly happy person who is neither a thrill seeker nor suicidal. Many people have this happen to them.

The reason is the brain is thinking about jumping off the ledge, and then saying "but actually, don't do that."

It's very similar to the mental trick "don't think of an elephant," which forces someone to immediately think of an elephant, because they do that in order to tell themselves not to think about it.

What this means for quitting an addiction is that if you're focused on stopping, you're still reactivating the part of your brain that thinks about engaging in the addiction.

This is why many people then focus on recovery, as their replacement. That is thinking about healing from the addiction and engaging in life again, rather than simply stopping. It also provides an outlet for emotionally clearing out the difficult thoughts and feelings that led to engaging in the addiction in the first place.

This was about learning to love your job, huh?

If you focus on making your job better, or becoming more adept at your job, it can become your passion, and take on purpose for you. You can start to see how doing it allows you to impact the world in some way. Learning more about it, you'll see even being a good cashier is something that can work wonders for you. That's about reading people, understanding shoppers, seeing how a business operates from within. Seeing where there is potential to learn and grow.

Otherwise, I'm focused on being resentful and thinking they are wrong and that I'm a bitch who isn't standing up for myself. Actually, I could find a better way to interact with my editor.

See, pot mellows me out enough to think of these things. It's a crutch, but it's not all bad. Minus the paranoia part.

But, I'm going to shift my mentality to trying to be better at my job. I've actually been listening to my editor, and just trying to learn to play the game they want. Which is a good start. It wouldn't hurt to voice my opinion in a way that is kind and approachable. There's no need to silently stuff it.

Being a better writer, better marketer, and learning more about the operations of a bigger site isn't a bad education. So, I'll play the game and see how they do things 'round these parts.

The scientific mindset is a powerful one to acquire. If everything is an experiment to see the outcome, your ego doesn't get involved as easily. You merely observe the outcome without feeling like you handled it badly or are weak, stupid, or wrong for your thoughts.

If you feel like something dark and bloody, watch the Hannibal TV Series. I mention that because Mads Mikkelsen as Hannibal is always watching people, gauging their reaction. He is never really involved with their feelings. He is merely observing them and how they respond to the grim and dour circumstances. The show itself fades after about the second season, if not a bit before, but the early parts are such masterworks that it's really worth watching. That's from a lifelong lover of the original "Silence of the Lambs" film, the whole Thomas Harris series of books, though also a harsh critic of the "Hannibal" book itself. I barely bothered with "Hannibal Rising" because I felt like Harris was going back to a well that worked, but his inspiration had fled.

Anyhow, Mikkelsen's performance is a great example of someone who treats everything like an experiment. Constantly removed, and making little mental notes of how you act, what you say, how the strain shows. Weighing your heart against a feather.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 294: A Half-Assed Escape

Previously on BnHA: Mirio was all “SURPRISE I’M BACK THANKS TO OUR RESIDENT SEVEN-YEAR-OLD WHO RECENTLY EARNED HER BACHELOR’S OF BEING A TOTAL BADASS.” Kacchan was all, “you know what, Dabi’s been trending long enough, time to remind the fandom what a real G looks like,” and he blasted his little bleeding body back into the fray and was all “FROM HERE ON OUT CALL ME DYNAMIGHT!!” Mirio was all, “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA... oh, you’re serious,” and Kacchan was all “!!”, and so that’s the story of how my son got murdered twice in one day. Meanwhile in the Todoroki Drama Zone, Deku was all “STOP MURDERING MY FRIEND” and Dabi was all “THAT’S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS” and fandom had a whole big debate about Whether Or Not Dabi Trying To Murder Deku’s Friends And Mentors Is Any Of Deku’s Business, which went exactly how you think it went. Anyway, so then Deku yelled at Dabi, and Endeavor was all moved by his manly words and randomly went to go uppercut Machia in the chin. And, seeing as how the Momoserum finally chose that exact moment to kick in, Machia is now down for the count.

Today on BnHA: The Miriosquad handles the Nearly High End Noumus, freeing up Jeanist to jasphyxiate (okay that one doesn’t really work so well) the rest of the League. Compress is all “TIME FOR THIS MILD-MANNERED SIDE CHARACTER VILLAIN TO SHINE”, except that by “shine” what he actually means is “use his quirk to punch a literal hole right through his own ass to free himself.” The rest of the chapter is basically just a back and forth between him and Jeanist, with Jeanist trying to recapture him, and Compress repeatedly thwarting him by chopping more holes out of himself because HE’S FRESH OUT OF FUCKS, AND THE ONES AT THE STORE ARE ALL SOLD OUT, MOTHERFUCKERS. Anyway, so with Compress basically dying and all, Horikoshi is all “you know what that means”, and delivers a freshly-baked villain flashback revealing that Compress is a descendant of Harima Ouji, a.k.a. the Peerless Thief, a.k.a. some famous guy whom Gentle mentioned this one time for like two seconds back in the day. The chapter ends with Compress finally demasking himself and dumping Tomura back onto the ground, a.k.a. The Worst Possible Place For Tomura To Be. ( •﹏•)

WHY IS CRUST HERE YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD

-- OH WAIT, SHIT. OH

AIZAWAAAA you’re alive and receiving medical help thank GOD. HOW MANY EYES DO YOU HAVE. AND MIRKO!! HOW MANY LIMBS DO YOU HAVE, OMG

so is this Aizawa dreaming about Crust’s final moments, then?? jesus. with All Due Respect to Crust’s memory, does Aizawa not already have enough misplaced guilt on his conscience as it is?? “nope, we’re gonna keep piling it on. that’s all he is now. three limbs, an indeterminate number of eyes, sexy hair, and Guilt” well shit

motherfucker y’all really out here placing an oxygen mask on Gran Torino’s corpse. fucking shounen characters. each one comes with a lifetime warranty

DAMN YOU HORIKOSHI WHY DO YOU KEEP SHOWING THESE CLOSE-UPS OF HAWKS’S UNCONSCIOUS FACE ALL WHUMPED OUT AND EXHAUSTED. HOW MUCH MORE OF THIS ARE WE GOING TO GET. ARE YOU PLANNING ON KILLING ME WITH THE UPCOMING CONVALESCENCE ARC, BECAUSE IF SO, AT LEAST HAVE THE DECENCY TO TELL ME AHEAD OF TIME SO I CAN MAKE A WILL

for a moment I considered going back and checking my previous recaps to count how many times I’ve already made a joke about Dabi’s fire incinerating Hawks’s wings but not touching so much as a hair on his five o’clock shadow, so that I could calculate whether or not I could possibly get away with making that same joke one more time. but then I realized I could just do it in this kind of roundabout way I’m doing right now instead. so there you have it

FFFFFFFMT LADY AND MIDNIGHT NOOOOO

PLEASE BE ALIVE. PLEASE RESPECT THE SIGN ON THE FRONT OF THE BUILDING. THE ONE THAT SAYS “NO LADY CHARACTERS ALLOWED TO DIE”, WITH THE FINE PRINT AT THE BOTTOM “AT LEAST NOT UNTIL HORIKOSHI GIVES US LIKE TWENTY-SIX MORE OF THEM FIRST IF THAT’S THE WAY HE WANTS TO PLAY IT.” IT’S A GOOD SIGN, PLEASE RESPECT ITS WISHES!!

so anyway though, Jeanist is giving a speech about how god knows how many people all worked together to bring Machia down. and now RHA is getting in on those fabric puns too, I see. “A SINGLE STRAND MAY BE THIN BUT TOGETHER THEY FORM A STRONG ROPE” oh so you think you guys are funny eh? I’m a frayed knot

MEANWHILE EXCUSE ME BUT WHY ARE YOU FUCKING CRYING BLOOD, HOLY SHIT

fffffff. so much for him taking over as the Number One once all this is over. so let’s just recap real quick, because Horikoshi has long since made it clear that one of his plot goals for this arc is to wipe out every single member of the Billboard Top Ten. so how we doin?

Endeavor - was just figuratively eviscerated in front of the entire nation by his homicidal zombiepunk son. also burnt half to death and possibly down a lung. will almost certainly be forced to retire after this one way or the other

Hawks - lying prettily in a medical tent. wings status: gone. hair status: still perfect

Jeanist - WELL I THOUGHT HE WAS FINE BUT APPARENTLY HE’S OUT HERE DYING, JESUS CHRIST

Edgeshot - MIA, last seen fighting Re-Destro. I really want him to have kicked RD’s ass because fuck that guy, but realistically they probably fought to a draw at best

Mirko - alive but in critical condition and missing something like 1.5 limbs

Crust - dead, currently haunting Aizawa’s traumatized dreams. now he’s gonna be triggered the rest of his life by people giving him the thumbs up, THANKS A LOT

Kamui Woods - was set on fire which is His Weakness. thoughts and prayers

Wash - last seen floating hospital patients to safety as Tomura’s wave of decay descended towards him. probably dead ffff

Old Man Samurai - haven’t seen this fucker in a hot minute, who even knows where he’s wandered off to

Ryuukyuu - currently being treated for her wounds, looked pretty bad off. but it’s hard to tell how hurt she is since most of the injuries were acquired in her transformed state. SHE BETTER GET WELL SOON

anyways, so yeah. so much for the top ten. guess that’s another reason Horikoshi brought Mirio back now, huh

so there’s a big panel of everyone fighting the Noumu while Machia lies there all “blurgh.” good riddance my dude. it took like twenty chapters and a hundred people to stop this guy so I really fucking hope he stays down. you’ve had your fun

anyway so Jeanist is sending another steel thread towards Dabi! and he’s all “just a bit more!!” fklklj this is gonna go real well isn’t it

meanwhile Mirio’s fighting a Nearly High End with all of these weird rock formations jutting out of its skin. go on and kick his ass then, Mirio

“each of these guys is probably just as strong as the Noumu from Kyuushuu” hold on I thought Ujiko or Tomura or someone said that wasn’t the case? not that Mirio would know I suppose. anyways let’s just hope he’s wrong cuz if not these kids are probably screwed

kLSDKFHLSKHGLKLK OH MY GODDDD

IIDA FUCKING TENYA YOU’RE A PEACH. THINKS THE NAME IS OUTRAGEOUS, CHECK. USES IT ANYWAY, CHECK. “JUST BECAUSE I DON’T UNDERSTAND DOESN’T MEAN I CAN’T BE SUPPORTIVE.” WHAT A CLASS ACT

AND KACCHAN IS RESPONDING WITH AS MUCH DIGNITY AS HE CAN MUSTER

WOW, SON. IT’S ALMOST AS THOUGH YOU HAVE A HOLE IN YOUR TORSO, OR SOMETHING!! although listen up, real talk, the fact that Kacchan of all people can’t muster the energy to yell at someone questioning his ability to kick ass is HIGHKEY troubling and we may be in need of an intervention here soon :/

now Jeanist is finally turning his attention to the League! was... was it not already on the League. omg

ACTUAL SCREAMING AHHHHHH FUCK FUCKLK LK AHHLKHKFFFF

hey so um. what the actual fucked up hell. my soul left my body. imagine if you saw the reflection of this panel on your bedroom window. you would never sleep again

OKAY RHA TRANSLATORS ARE YOU HAVING YOURSELF A LAUGH AGAIN

THIS CANNOT BE WHAT HE’S ACTUALLY SAYING RIGHT. BUT IT’S RIGHT IN THAT UNCANNY VALLEY OF NOT BEING QUITE SURE, THOUGH... (　ﾟдﾟ)

(ETA: just a next-day clarification here, apparently my sleep-deprived ADHD word-skipping brain completely skipped right over the “a” in that last panel, so what I read was, “and Shigaraki’s limp noodle.” so yeah, the moral of this story is always read the speech bubble carefully before you start making running jokes throughout the rest of your post, folks.)

oh wow he’s really freaking out lmao

to be fair though, I’d argue that Dabi has gotten pre-tty close at this point :’) thrilled for him, really I am

but anyway, well then figure something out you big dramatic robot-armed fiend. didn’t you just say you could touch your own ass? can you not just Compress yourself to break free?? does it not work on you? or would you be stuck afterwards lol

(ETA: I was picturing him compressing his entire body at once, not just chunks of it. ghhhlkh.)

um

holy shit Jeanist. are you stupidly trying to cut off their air, or are you going for more of a sleeper hold (jleeper hold??) thing instead. the latter would be way smarter and faster and probably safer as well just saying

but unless Spinner is just being super dramatic, it sure looks like he’s fucking strangling them djslkjlk. this will certainly cement his popularity among the villain stans. good thing you’re not running for office any time soon bud

anyway so I have no idea what these guys are trying to do now. what is this

do you even have till the count of 5 at this rate. I mean

OH MY GOODNESS

HE’S REALLY FUCKING DOING IT!! HE’S COMPRESSING HIS BUTT!! OMFG. TOMURA HIDE YOUR NOODLE!!!

WHAT THE FUCK

DID YOU COMPRESS A PIECE OF YOUR OWN ASS. FUCKING WHAT. PUT THIS MAN’S PICTURE IN THE DICTIONARY NEXT TO THE WORD “LOYALTY”, HOLY CRAP

HOLY SHIT COMPRESS

“HOLY SHIT DID THAT GUY JUST PUNCH A HOLE THROUGH HIS OWN ASS IN ORDER TO SAVE HIS VILLAIN PALS. FUCK IT, HE DESERVES TO ESCAPE”

jeez, talk about... A HALF-ASSED ESCAPE ATTEMPT :D :D :D hahaha. but real talk though, Horikoshi has clearly never tried to leap twelve feet straight up in the air multiple times in succession with only half his glutes though. everyone, I regret to inform you that this panel right here on the left may be slightly unrealistic

also where the hell is he going to go?? did you pack a jetpack away in one of those little marbles sir. and what about Dabi?? and Skeptic too, I guess, but we don’t really care about Skeptic

(ETA: at this point I had to stop reading for about two hours because I had to go out and take care of something; that’s also why this is being posted later than usual lol. anyways so where were we.)

oh my lord

the existence of a translator’s note here implies that the earlier line about Compress being able to reach Tomura’s junk was not, in fact, ad-libbed. hmm. hmmmmmmmm

anyway so now he’s grabbing Compress again because OF COURSE HE IS, so now we’re right back to square one! except now Tomura and Spinner are secured inside of little marbles, and presumably Compress is the only one who can release them

oh nevermind he’s just maiming himself again instead, SHEESH

Skeptic a man is dying please have some goddamn respect

so, uh. is he gonna die, though??

I really can’t tell wtf is going on here, this is the most confusing the art has been in a while. Horikoshi put all of his spoons into that creepyass close-up panel earlier, that bastard

OMG WHAT ARE YOU SERIOUS

DON’T FUCKING TELL ME THE “COMPRESS IS RELATED TO THIS THIEF GUY FROM OLDEN TIMES” THEORY IS ACTUALLY TRUE WHAAAAAAT. OH SHIT

so apparently Harima was a Robin Hood type guy who stole from... heroes?? wtf. are heroes the 1% in this scenario. y’all didn’t have any Fortune 500 CEOs to steal from?

THAT’S THE BLOOD THAT FLOWS THROUGH YOU, OH SHIT. and in a related oh shit, the fact that we are getting a Compress flashback now of all times doesn’t bode super well for him. ffff

MEANWHILE THE TODOROKIS ARE STILL TODOROKI-ING

listen here boy if you touch one freaking hair on Shouto’s candy cane head I swear to god --

WHAT DID I FUCKING SAY!!!

SHOUTO NOOOOOO. WTF YOU’RE LITERALLY THE ONE GUY WHOSE WEAKNESS IS ABSOLUTELY NOT SUPPOSED TO BE FIRE. DABI YOU SHIT, YOU BETTER WATCH YOURSELF!! I’M PRINTING OUT A COPY OF THAT COMPRESS PANEL!!! KEEP AN EYE OUT ON THAT BEDROOM WINDOW YOU PUNK!!!

SO NOW POOR SHOUTO IS UNCONSCIOUS AND FALLING!! SOMEONE SAVE HIM!! WHO CATCHES THE CATCHER

COMPRESS LITERALLY HOW ARE YOU STILL ALIVE RIGHT NOW, WHAT IS HAPPENING

PLEASE DON’T CALL TOMURA LEADER OF THE “PLF” YOU KNOW I CAN’T TAKE IT SERIOUSLY WHEN YOU DO THAT. ARE YOU DYING. ARE YOU JUST A FUCKING HEAD NOW WTF

(ETA: “masks are removable, makeste” you know what it’s been a long day okay lmao. or I suppose Compress is really the one who is lmao.)

GASPPPPPP

okay. okay. looooool okay then

WHY WERE YOU COVERING THIS SEXY MOP OF HAIR UNDER THAT HOOD YOU TOOL. IT WOULD HAVE LOOKED SO GOOD WITH THE TOP HAT. I’M SO MAD AT YOU RIGHT NOW

as if it wasn’t enough for him to demask himself, he also had to get all shirtless and then do this weird attempt at a sexypose too huh

hard to say exactly how much of his torso is currently missing, but safe to say that’s proooooooobably not good. :///// fuck

on the other hand, Kacchan also has a torso hole and he’s still flying around like he just drank a dozen red bulls, so

this man lost his ass and he’s still out here monologuing like it’s the last two minutes of The Prestige. one might say he is monologuing his ass off

so he let Spinner and Tomura free, but is Dabi still trapped in his marble?? wasn’t he all on fire and stuff?? hopefully he can still turn off his quirk in there because if not that’s a pretty fucked up way to die. somewhere out there Snatch’s ghost is all “YEAH I’LL SAY.” oh how the turntables

last but not least, sooooooo. Tomura. back on the ground. that’s. um. ...shiiiiiiiit

[hansolmates]

jjk; off-league

summary; you decide to do a little boudoir photoshoot for yourself—a little sexy lingerie, some bunny ears, maybe even a little nudity to make you feel more body positive about yourself. that little photoshoot doesn’t end up being for yourself anymore when you accidentally send those sexy pictures to your stupidly hot, stupidly talented childhood friend who you haven’t spoken to since middle school graduation.  pairing; photographer!jk x fem!reader genre/warnings; childhood friends to lovers!au, flangst, mutual pining, feelings of insecurity and body image, suggestive language, nudity  w.c; 6.2k a/n: i was feeling a lil meh about this fic after finishing it but a month later it finally makes its debut! for @btsghostiewritersnet​ BGW Bingo Bash! today’s trope is “childhood friends to lovers” which surprisingly isn’t a favorite of mine so it was definitely a challenge to write! 

“C’mon, I need your opinion. Deadass. Don’t just say shit to make me feel better.” 

“Gimmie those nudes, baby girl,” Johnny makes an impeccable fuckboy impersonation, making you feel a little squirmy to your stomach. 

It’s an hour away from being the ass-crack’o-dawn and your impromptu pin-up photoshoot just needs the sexy-star-of-approval from your best friend. Johnny Suh is also up for reasons unmentioned, but you had a feeling his pretty boyfriend is fifty percent of the reason. 

You look at yourself in the mirror, smoothing your frame against the black bodice of the sheer teddy. The only parts that are fully concealed are the parts that don’t matter. The sheer bodice reveals your pert nipples concealed by a thin black mesh, coupled with the deep V in the sweetheart neckline, accented by a little black bow in the dive of your highlighted cleavage. The silky a-line raceways to a set of black garters hugging your thighs, barely hanging onto a pair of lace thigh-highs. 

It doesn’t leave you butt naked, but enough to make you feel confident about yourself. These pictures are for you, and Johnny. And Johnny’s boyfriend if he’s being nosy. 

You tug off the silk bunny ears from your head, flinging it somewhere in your room. The wire started to dig in your brain, giving you a major headache. 

“Sending them now,” you hang up and start compiling the pictures in a folder on Google Drive. Once that’s done you copy the shareable link, sending it to Johnny’s number. It happens all so fast, and you feel kind of giddy. As you were posing for the camera, taking your time to find all the right angles, you felt good, you felt sexy in your little get up. Channeling your inner Ariana Grande was one of your childhood dreams, your fifteen year old self would be proud. 

Five minutes pass, fifteen, and by the twenty-five minute mark you’re pissed. What’s taking Johnny so long? 

Makeup scrubbed clean and face bare, you shuffle in your duvet, far too tired to be waiting up this long. Punching in his number once more, you cry, “Hey! Why haven’t you looked at them yet?” 

“What?” your friend’s voice sounds pebbly through the line. Was Johnny sleeping? “You never sent them!” he whines tiredly. 

“No, I definitely sent them!” you pull the phone away and keep Johnny on call, ready to prove him wrong. 

But to your surprise, the last message you sent to Johnny was this afternoon. 

The most recent message is to a person named John Kook. 

You scream. 

Johnny screams back at you with an equal amount of force, “What the fuck? Did someone break in? Are you being mobbed? See, this is why I wanted to put the baby monitor in your room—” 

“Worse!” you’re well prepared for any break in, but not for this. “I sent my pics to the wrong John!” 

“Well… is he at least cute?” 

“I mean, in the fourth grade he looked pretty cute with that front tooth missing,” you find your output of frustration, your bunny plush, pulling it by the ear and hitting it against the bed. “His name isn’t even John! It was just his English name for a silly project we did in middle school. This is so embarrassing, all I can picture is a twelve-year-old Jungkook mortified from sexual harassment. I basically sent him nudes!” 

“Tasteful nudes.” 

“I’m gonna die.” 

“He’s gonna die, of happiness.” 

Jeon Jungkook was a classmate from elementary through middle school. Time and time again was he the object of your affections, from the first grade at the roller rink to the speech he made at graduation. But really, who cares? You’re old and have a job, and it’s not like you’ve communicated with any of your former classmates. 

Your horror amplifies when the Delivered receipt is changed to Read 3:41AM. 

“Fuck! Fuck me with a fuckin’ fuck nugget he saw it!” you cry, “does he still have my number? What if he deleted my contact, would that be even weirder?” 

“Girl, stop.” Johnny sighs, and you can already picture him running his thumb between his brows. “This doesn’t change anything, alright? You two don’t know each other anymore. Block his number and go to sleep.” 

Johnny leaves you alone after that, and you’re left alone to mull over the implications of sending Jeon Jungkook your nude photoshoot. 

You do block his number, knowing that waiting for a reply would drive you nuts. The one thing that you do which is possibly worse, is look him up on Instagram. 

Of course, he’s stupid hot. 

He doesn’t seem to like being on the receiving end of the camera however, in favor of his timeline being filled with romantic shots of the beach and city. In between the picturesque views and watercolor sunsets do you see glimpses of him and his current life. You can’t help but smile when you see him with his brother and parents during his college graduation, easily towering over all of them. He looks tall with fluffy cocoa hair, big pearly whites gleaming proudly at the camera. He grew up well. 

To torture yourself even more, you even look through his story. Twelve hours ago, he was at the gym lifting weights. Normally, you’d be disgusted by people trying to show off their grunt faces drenched in sweat, but of course Jungkook has to have on a silly smile and pump his fist up after he deadlifts. The sweat clinging to his shirt is also a high plus. His gorgeous display of abs has your hands fluttering over your own belly. Maybe you need to exercise more. 

Four hours ago, you see him and a pretty woman with their cheeks squished together, using the puppy filter. Of course he has a girlfriend. 

Reluctant, you open up your Google Drive and scroll through your photoshoot. Deflated, you frown at the pictures that once made you beam with pride, picking at every little detail that bothered you. You really can’t believe you sent these to Jeon Jungkook, no longer a fourth grader with one front tooth, but a man way out of your league. 

By the time you will yourself to sleep, the sun peeks from the horizon, telling you to move on. 

“Hey Gyu,” you tiptoe over to the table much too small for Mingyu’s frame. The string bean is slumped over his iPad pro, drawing intently at some chibi OCs. “Got a plot for that one?” you ask, pointing at the little pink and blue creature decorating the screen. 

Mingyu grunts in reply, obviously engrossed. It isn’t until you slide him a matcha frappe from Starbucks that he becomes intelligible, muttering a “thank you” as he blends with his pen. 

Sensing that it’s going to be awhile before you get through to him, you take your usual rounds around the front desk and lobby of the cosy photo studio. There’s pretty pictures of Mingyu’s work, along with the other employees Minghao and Hoseok. Each section of the wall features a different taste of each person’s interest. Mingyu is a divine lover of soft bed sheets and hot tea, many of his photographs and paintings featuring cafes or perfectly messy beds you’ve seen on hotel advertisements. Minghao is a tasteful artisan, splotches of color retaliating against neutral backgrounds. Finally, Hoseok manages to find balance in the people, large cityscapes telling both large and small stories.

“Alright,” Mingyu’s deep voice forces you to curl your head, where he’s sipping at his drink with haste. “What’cha here for?” 

You frown, “Don’t you remember? I told you last week I’d be stopping by to get my photos developed,” you gesture to the Pentax in your hands, an heirloom from your great-aunt. While you did take digital photos for sending them to Johnny, the ones you wanted developed were taken side-by-side with the film camera. You figured that film would give a little more authenticity to your photoshoot. 

“Shit, that’s today?” the camera falls like deadweight, slapping against your sweater as you watch Mingyu frantically look through his digital calendar. He looks at you, dejected. “How many prints?” 

“I don’t know, maybe like six. Or eight?” 

“That’s gonna take too long, I’m heading down to Hidden Grounds for a vision meeting at two.” 

“Alright, I’m free all day. What about after?”

“Nah, you came all this way. I can just let the new guy help you.” and Mingyu makes a show of cupping his hands in the direction of the open hallway, “Yah, Jeon Jungkook! Get your cute ass out here!” 

The Pentax around your neck suddenly feels like weight akin to a two-ton boulder, and you surge forward, not caring that the corner of the table is digging into your belly. “Mingyu,” you garble, and Mingyu is shell-shocked by the desperation in your eyes. “Isn’t Minghao around or something? Or I can come back another time? These photos are really personal and I don’t feel comfortable having a stranger see them.”

“What? We’re professionals, don’t belittle us.” 

“No, seriously,” you whine, you tug at the collar of his denim jacket, noses practically touching. “These pictures are different. My tits are out and my legs are spread—”

“—interrupting something?” 

You hear some shuffling, and you turn around to see Jeon Jungkook’s back, comically turned to face the entrance. 

And damn, he did have a cute ass. Nothing is going to hide the glory in those jeans, absolutely nothing. 

“Hilarious,” Mingyu drawls, and you push him away. “Forget it, Kook. She doesn’t feel comfortable letting a stranger develop her photos.” 

Sensing that it’s safe to turn around, you watch as his black bangs flutter as he faces you. You hope your body language doesn’t betray how you’re really feeling, because you are a mere mortal and you’re weak in the presence of god-like figures. 

“Oh, what a relief then,” he smiles at you, and his voice sounds like honey. If there was malice or surprise in his tone, his good-natured expression betrays it. “Because I’ve known this friend since elementary school. We go way back.” 

You ignore the burn in the back of your head, as you are positive Mingyu knows you’re hiding something. 

“Really, what a coincidence.” Mingyu replies carefully, and you feel utterly stuck between these men and their banter, locked up like cream in an Oreo cookie. 

Nothing argues against Jungkook as he easily weaves through the thick wave of awkwardness, hands reaching out to touch your camera. “Wow,” he marvels, holding the object in his hands, “my dad has one of these.” 

“A-ha,” you take a step back, only to bump into the corner of the table, again. Ouch. “It’s okay, Jungkook. I’m actually busy today so I can come when Mingyu’s free–”

“Oh, I thought you were free all day,” Mingyu drawls, looking up through his lashes as he sips languidly at his drink. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Jungkook says good-naturedly, as if Mingyu just didn’t out you. “We got a lot of catching up to do anyway, c’mon.” 

Jungkook moves to place a hand in the small of your back and that’s enough to get you to rev up. Refusing to let any contact get between the two of you, you zip ahead down the familiar hallway, turning your head to catch Mingyu grinning with all canines, shooing you with his fingers like a puppy. 

You send Mingyu a stream of “fuck yous” into his inbox for later, unwilling to settle with this curse. Busying yourself with your phone, you avoid eye contact with Jungkook until you reach the dark room. The red light turned off at the top of the doorhenge signals that the room is not in use. Jungkook makes a move to open the door and that’s when you pounce, blocking the doorway with your small body. It’s comical, really. 

Jungkook raises a brow at you, but says nothing. 

“I really can wait, Jungkook,” you steel yourself, forcing a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure your girlfriend wouldn’t like you developing my pictures—”

It’s then that his pretty cupid’s bow unfurls into a full-fledged grin. “Girlfriend... you’ve been keeping tabs on me?” 

“Fuck, well I had to!” your face is as red as the dark room’s alert light, now on because Jungkook flicked the switch and he’s between your arm to unlock the door. Your hand brushes his as you both reach the knob. “I’m really really sorry I sent those pictures. They were for Johnny—you remember Johnny Suh from English class? And I saved you in my contacts as “John Kook” so it was an honest mess up.” 

Jungkook hums, so light that the breathiness in his chords flutters your grip on the knob. He forces the door ajar, and you’re left to follow him in the dark room, cluttered with solutions and fancy equipment. 

“Thought so,” Jungkook shrugged, giving a one-over at the materials in the room, mulling over his next steps in developing your film. 

You’re still petrified at the doorway, holding your Pentax between both hands like a lifeline. Jungkook’s head lols to you, and you get a pretty view of the way his bangs brush over his forehead, Adam’s Apple bobbing. His expression is a little tired, but overall unreadable. He sighs your name, lethargic. 

“We’re already here, so might as well get this done,” he gestures to the camera in your vice grip. “Do you wanna pick the shots or do you want me to?” 

He’s already seen the digitals, what’s so different about getting a couple prints? With a slight pout you drag your feet over to him, relinquishing your camera. “I’m thinking you have a better eye for this than I do.” 

“You think right.” 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Cocky, but what you’ve seen on Instagram definitely justifies his sentiment. Jungkook pays no mind to you, busying his hands with the various containers in front of him, measuring the solutions for the developer, stopper, and fixer. You were always entranced by the process of developing film, especially in highschool where their photography club holed themselves in the darkroom like a secret lair. 

“Alright,” he pops open the canister, carefully laying out sections of the film in groups of four. “Want me to pick a random one for a tester?” 

You frown, “At least put some thought into it.” 

“Always,” it looks like he already decided way before he popped the question, immediately taking a negative and placing it in the carrier. 

His fingers are nimble as he takes the time to clean off the dust and any debris that could potentially ruin the image. Then he turns off the lights and begins the process. You dive around him, trying to keep your distance but still too curious to leave his side. If he’s annoyed he fails to show it, in favor of humming whatever song comes from his Echo Dot. 

You always got the solos in choir. You wanted to reminisce, but you’re too nervous to say it out loud. 

Even though it’s his job and he’s being a professional, you romanticize the experience, watching as he carefully puts the print in each liquid process. Your image blooms to life, and you feel your stomach churn as the photo develops before your eyes. 

After a final dip in the solution stopper, he places the first product in a bath of water. Even though you are mere centimeters away, you can clearly see the image of you swimming around the container. 

“Alright!” Jungkook hangs the finished picture on a pastel pink clothespin, tacking it in place. “Whaddya think?” 

Your breath catches in your throat, feeling heavy as you look at the image of you reflected in the glossy paper. You’re perched on your bed, a hand splaying between your legs as the other hand toys with the silk bunny ears. You’re leaned slightly, giving an ample view of your cleavage. However, the image of you is definitely different from being blown up in comparison to the negatives, and you squirm uncomfortably at your full display. 

“I look,” you bite your tongue, internally debating whether you like it or not. Not to spare Jungkook the theatrics you shrug, “It’s good.”  

The lack of enthusiasm seems to dissatisfy Jungkook however, as he has to take a double take and look back and forth between the image and the real thing. “What’s wrong with it, do you think Johnny’ll not like it?” 

“What?” you furrow your brows, breaking into a nervous laugh. “Johnny has a boyfriend. I just wanted his opinion. This photoshoot is for me, y’know? Just something to make me feel good about myself.” 

Jungkook’s lips morph into a little ‘o’, and you see a little bit of the child you once knew in the way he’s mulling over the situation. 

“Then can I give you my honest opinion?” Jungkook clips off the half-dried photo, holding it between you two. “Stop thinking so hard about every little thing you don’t like about yourself. If I was your boyfriend and you gifted this to me, I’d be creaming my pants. You look fucking sexy, all grown up since you cried in the fourth grade.” 

You’ve just been flung a litany of words you have no brain capacity to digest. Along with that, the immense heat you didn’t know you’ve been suppressing surges to your belly, low and simmering. Jungkook stares at you in earnest, despite his sudden gush of honesty, you don’t know what to say. There’s a dash of pink staining his cheeks, betraying the confidence he previously displayed. He stiffens when you don’t reply immediately and moves to clean his materials, his sudden bout of bold honesty quickly shrinking. 

“Y-you know,” you look down at your feet, “the only reason why I cried in the fourth grade was because you told me Santa wasn’t real.” 

Jungkook softens, tilting his head. “Sorry about that.” 

“Thanks though,” you gently reach for the photo in Jungkook’s grasp, looking at it without contempt. “But won’t your girlfriend be upset if she knew you were saying things like this about someone else?” 

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, if you looked through the rest of my Instagram story,” Jungkooks cards a hand through his already mussed hair, splitting the ends. “You would see that she’s not my girlfriend, but my tattoo artist.” 

For added measure, he wiggles his fingers in front of you, revealing pretty ink and silver bands across his knuckles.

“Oh,” your voice is feather light, and you’re sure you’re drooling as you stare far too long at the letters that mark his hands, curious as to what they symbolize. 

“So, as a singleton telling another singleton,” he continues, “I know it’s meaningless if you don’t believe it yourself, but I’m telling you, you’re attractive.” 

“Thanks,” you hold the picture tightly in your grasp, eyes flickering to the negatives in the room ready to be galvanized into a full-fledged picture. “Why don’t we wrap this up, huh? We can continue another time.” 

If he notices how much the paper wilts in your grasp, he doesn’t comment on it. “Are you sure? I know it takes a lot of time, but I don’t mind.” 

“I’m sure,” you force a smile, one hand on the lightswitch. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready, okay?” 

Jungkook swallows, nodding mechanically. “Okay.” 

“It was really nice seeing you, Kook.” you blurt before you could chicken out, letting the room bask in darkness a little longer so he can’t see your flustered state. “I’m not even going to downplay it, you look great.” 

You half-expect a cocky remark, or a little chest pumping from the compliment. At the sound of his nickname however, 4th grade Jeon Jungkook resurfaces and he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Like I said, so do you,” he replies easily, sending you a soft smile and opening the door for you. 

The door closes shut behind you and you exhale, patting your cheeks and willing for the chilly air to calm you down. 

When you get home that day, you shuck off all your clothes and crawl into bed. You cry out when the metal framing of your bunny ears stabs you in the back, and you fling it to some unmentionable part of the room. You reach for a bag of half-opened sour gummy worms, flipping open your MacBook to continue streaming the soft magical girl anime you’ve been hooked on these past few weeks. 

Not even Sailor Uranus can distract you; however, by the time it’s dark and you’ve run out of distractions, you finally pull the plug and unblock Jungkook from your list of contacts. 

Your phone buzzes, the incessant vibration relaying all the messages you’ve missed. 

[March 12th, 3:53AM]

You: https://drive.google.com/drive/u/1/folders/0343…

John Kook: ??? 

John Kook: you probably sent this to me by accident… sorry i clicked on it

John Kook: is it weird if i said you’ve done a massive glow up since the middle school dance?

[March 12th, 12:02 PM]

John Kook: are u mad

John Kook: you’re mad

John Kook: am i makin this weird by continuing to text you

John Kook: im making it weird. 

[March 31st, 6:24 PM]

John Kook: https://drive.google.com/drive/u/1/folders/049…

You tilt your head at the folder link, it was sent only a few hours ago. With a click, you’re enlightened to a set of digital photos. Your photos from your photoshoot, but not quite. They’ve been expertly edited, not too much to distort your looks, but only to enhance your features. A small, barely there smile creeps from your subconscious, ultimately touched by the gesture. 

John Kook: sorry if i pushed too hard today. 

Guilt overrides your nerves, prompting you to immediately press the call button on his contact. Not to your surprise, Jungkook’s light voice calls your name through the line after the second ring. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you blurt, forgoing the hellos. “It was the right amount of push, I feel better, really. If anything, I’m sorry. I blocked your number because I was scared to read your reaction.” 

You hear him sigh along the line, and you feel that breath ripple through your nerves, as if he’s right next to you. “It’s fine, I would’ve done the same thing.” 

“The pictures you just sent, they’re really beautiful. You did a good job.” 

“Thanks, I had a bit of help. I didn’t have to do much.” 

“Oh, did Mingyu come back from his meeting?” 

"No, I uh," Jungkook chuckles, and while you don't really know why, the sound is nonetheless pleasant. “It was mostly the lighting and coloring I fixed up. Didn’t need to do much since you already looked so pretty as it is.” 

You choke on your saliva. 

“You okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you cough, “just choked on a snack I was eating.” he hums in reply, and you pray he doesn’t hear your stomach fervently retort that you haven’t eaten since lunch. “So, I think I’m up for developing more of the film. When can I drop by?” 

“I’m free Saturday,” Jungkook chirps, “I have a shoot until noon but you can come anytime after that.” 

“Sounds good, I’ll be there,” you clutch the phone with both hands. “I can bring lunch. What do you like to eat?” 

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

“I’m already buying for Minghao,” you lie, “do you like burgers?” 

“I can’t say no to a good burger,” Jungkook’s smile feels almost palpable against the line, “do you remember our field trip to the national museum of history? We had burgers on the street!” 

“Oh, those were so good,” you moan, fuzzy memories of a middle grade field trip resurfacing to clarity, “but you ate like, ten of them!”

“I still get nightmares,” he warns, “don’t let me go to bed like this.” 

You giggle, letting your body meld further into your warm mattress. “Maybe I’ll just show up with ten burgers for you tomorrow.” 

“I’ll throw up on you, try me.” 

Minghao’s adjusting the frames on their display wall by the centimeter, and it’s pissing him off. 

“Ah, it’s off,” he mutters to himself when you walk in, indicated by the electronic bell. He turns to you briefly, pulling a leveler out of his overall pocket. “Doesn’t this look off?” 

“Uh,” you look towards Mingyu at the front desk, who is paying no mind as he continues scribbling on his iPad. You tilt your head towards your former college classmate. “It doesn’t look off from over here?” 

Tacking the leveler on one of the frames, he whines, “It’s five degrees off.” 

Mingyu puts his pen down to reach over the counter and grab the paper from your hands, steaming with the scent of fast food, “He’s been like this for hours, don’t mind him.” 

He doesn’t even ask whether the food is his, Mingyu sees grease and he claims. Reaching for an oil-wrapped parchment, he unfolds the paper to reveal a handsome burger with all the fix-ens. 

Barely satisfied, Minghao steps away from the art display. There is a sizable gap in the display, now divided between four artists instead of three. You wonder how Jungkook’s work will look amongst the other artists. 

“Cute ‘fit.” Minghao mumbles, nodding approvingly at your clothes as he digs into the bag for his own burger. 

You send a half-smile his way. If an outfit is Minghao-approved, that means you’ve gone above and beyond. At least, you tried to play it off like you didn’t try to look cute. It’s not like you’re intimidated by Jungkook, living with a major fifteen-year glow up. After all, he’s already seen more than you can imagine. 

Mingyu takes notice, eyes going south to where your white blouse meets your cleavage. You hurl a fry at his face, “Eyes up here, perv.” 

He scrunches his nose, lifting a greasy thumb to slide a manila envelope over to you. “Here’s the developed pictures. Intercepted Kook and I finished them this morning.” 

You frown, “Jungkook’s not done with his photoshoot yet?” 

“Oh, he’s been done.” Mingyu’s eyes roll back to one of the studios. “But I’m saying is, you got what you needed. So you can leave if you want,” but he grins at you, canines so sharp you feel his stare jabbing you in the proverbial neck. “Unlesssss you want to go in and say hi.” 

If he has any inkling of what’s going on in your head, it’s definitely confirmed when your face turns hot. Damn body, you’re betraying me! With a flourish you grab the fries from under Mingyu’s nose, along with whatever’s left in the fast food bag. 

Minghao’s smiling through his burger, knowing if he pulls any type of savagery his lunch would certainly be pulled from under his chin. 

“Whatever you’re thinking, drop it or the burger will be going in your ass instead of out.” You mean to sound menacing, but the Min-squared and their boisterous laughter follow you down the hallway and into the occupied studio. 

“Hey Jungkoo—wow.”

You’re sure you look like Alice, enthralled by the little wonderland she just stepped into. The set is beautiful, right out of a fairytale. It has a very old-romance vibe, like Morticia and Gomez Addams. There lay a couch made of the darkest, richest wood, with velvet red cushions covering the body. Across the floor laid hundreds of black rose petals, blanketing the floor in a sea of ebony. 

“It’s for a wedding, gothic themed.” Jungkook supplies helpfully, still fiddling with whatever he was looking on his digital camera. He’s looking utterly soft in a matching grey sweat combination, something that would easily disgust you during high school, but unfairly works with him. 

“The shoot must’ve been beautiful.” 

“It was.” 

“I uh, got this for you.” Your fingers start to sweat from clutching the bag so hard, and you place it on his work table. 

He finally looks up from his camera, giving you a wan smile. “I thought you got those for Minghao.” 

You mentally slap your cheeks, trying to ignore the way his smile made your stomach do somersaults. “He got his own. Your portion has a cookie in it, so.” 

His cute teeth unveil themselves at the mention of sweets, and you can’t help but smile back at the familiarity. 

The two of you take your time in enjoying your lunch, not meaning to stay but the very back of your mind hoping he’d like to share a meal with you. After all, Mingyu and Minghao are probably at the front relishing in your very obvious attraction. What can you say, first crushes never die. 

Between sips of your milkshake, you’ve taken to flipping through Jungkook’s portfolio. There’s a myriad of different subjects: beaches, people, the occasional squirrel. Each section of the portfolio feels like you’re being transported to a new side of Jungkook and his artistry, and you ached to know more. 

“Wow,” you point at an action shot of two girls in a dance studio, “this duo looks like Chungha and Hyoyeon.” 

He swallows his (second) burger, having the audacity to sink sheepishly in his sweater. “It is Chungha and Hyoyeon.” 

You nearly choke on your cookie. “That’s amazing.” you say breathlessly, looking closer at the image. In fact, the beautiful women photographed are famed hip-hop choreographers Chungha and Hyoyeon. You can’t imagine how good Jungkook must be to manage a photoshoot with them. 

As proud as you are of Jungkook, it reminds you that since middle school you two have lived completely different lives. You wonder if Jungkook gets these kinds of gigs all the time, hanging around with gorgeous, talented people like himself.

Jungkook says your name once, twice. He looks at you concerned, and you’re melting in his large carmine eyes. If he notices your usual overthinking, he doesn’t say anything, and gestures to the section at the end of his portfolio. “This isn’t my best work, but it’s one of my favorites.” 

There’s something familiar about this set. A playground with a busted swing set. Children riding on bikes and colorful class shirts. Ice cream melting on fists. 

Thirteen-year-old you hanging on top of your middle school’s leafless tree, clutching your baseball cap as you shade yourself from the sunset. 

“Was this the first time you took pictures?” you ask, thumbing the picture of yourself. 

“Yeah. It’s when I decided it’s what I wanted to do the rest of my life.” 

“I know we didn’t know each other that well and we’ve only recently connected but,” you give him a shy smile, “I’m really proud of what you’ve grown up to be, Jungkook.” 

He looks like you’ve hung him the moon and stars, his half-eaten burger loosening in his grasp. His lips are parted cutely, like a kitten who’s just been offered a fresh glass of milk. You cough at the sudden pause in conversation, feeling self-conscious of your impulse confession. You don’t even have it in you to be disgusted when Jungkook hastily shoves the second half of his burger down his throat, tips of his ears pink. 

Leaving him be, you press a palm to your cheek, looking at the wedding set. 

Jungkook downs half a water bottle before he speaks again. “Y’know, it would be a shame to clean up this set already. It was kind of expensive.” 

“Yeah,” you echo, standing up and kicking off your slippers. You kick your feet in the air, watching the black petals kiss across your ankles.

“I have an idea,” he wipes his hands on his sweats, “why don’t you go back home and get an outfit you really like. Lingerie, a cute outfit, whatever. Let me give you a photoshoot you’d love.” 

You look up from your petal dance, balking. “Jungkook! That’s not necessary, I told you the photos I took were okay.” 

“Yeah but, you didn’t seem entirely happy. C’mon, I got a camera and a beautiful set. Why waste it?” his hands naturally gravitate towards his charging camera, already turning it on. “I can do lighting, I know all your good angles. What’s stopping us?” 

Really, what’s stopping you? Your hands fiddle with your open flannel, the soft material comforting you as you look across the set. You try to imagine yourself, your body draped across the velvet pillows and black petals. Would it look good? Would you feel good? You think back to how you felt the first time, how scared you were when someone other than Johnny would be looking at your photos. You remember how something weird and sour contorted in your stomach when you scrolled through Jeon Jungkook’s Instagram, no longer the little boy you knew but a man who could have everything he wanted—

“Stop thinking about it.” Jungkook suddenly snaps, and you break from your reverie to catch him looking upset. It’s been awhile since you’ve seen him like that. 

“Thinking about what?”

“Thinking that you’re out of my league.”

“Excuse me?” 

“You were like this the other day too,” and he looks sad, and puts his camera down to come closer to you. “Why are you feeling this way. Is it me?” 

“Not necessarily,” you huff, hugging yourself.

“Do you not feel beautiful? Do you not like your body?” 

“No, I do.” you say to yourself, and you mean it. Even though there will inevitably be days where you may not feel one-hundred percent positive about yourself, you know at the end of the day, you love you and all its parts. “I don’t know, Jungkook. I had no problem letting Mingyu develop the photos originally, because he knew me in college and I was already sure of myself back then. But I guess when I sent them to you, I felt like I did when I was a little girl, y’know? Going through puberty, and worrying about what other people think.” 

And it’s not like Jungkook teased you or made you feel lesser of yourself. In fact, Jungkook was the student you wanted to be when you were younger. Someone sweet and caring, and unabashedly confident about himself. 

“I guess seeing you so successful and the fact that my stupid childhood crush came back from a time where I always felt low, made me feel a little insecure again.” 

Something sinks in and you feel hyper aware of how crushed Jungkook looks at your declaration. “There’s no leagues, you got that?” he says quietly, walking so close that he’s hovering over you, sneakers brushing. “I get it. I get unsure and insecure just like you. Hell, I was nervous this morning, wondering if you’d really come. We may not feel insecure over the same things, but middle school wasn’t that great for me either.” He makes a funny face, and you feel a smile twitch across your lips. “But it’s okay. Because we’re human and we grow. But now, you are successful. You’ve grown from your time growing up and you’re a wonderful, powerful person. I’m proud of you too.” 

“I know,” you mumble, leaning your forehead against his chest. His arms wrap around you in response, holding you snug.

“And for the record, I thought you were the most beautiful person in the world in fourth grade. Even though my world was pretty small back then, I can say now that what I thought back then still stands true.” 

You look up from his embrace, where he’s leaning down to press a slow, cotton soft kiss to your forehead. He backs up a little to read your face, and you give a tiny nod in response to signal it’s okay. Jungkook exhales in contentment, relaxing against your frame. 

“Thanks, Kook,” you crack a smile, feeling your insecurities slowly evaporate. You feel better, light, knowing that these negative feelings are only temporary, and you’re not alone. Being in Jungkook’s arms, an honest boy turned man you’ve known all your life, it feels almost like home. 

You two stay like this for a while. Exchanging feather-like kisses, feeling irrevocably young and hopeful. Suddenly feeling emboldened, you tug him by the strings of his hoodie to press a long, hot kiss to his lips. There’s a stutter, and you’re pretty sure Jungkook choked on his saliva at the sudden change of pace but you continue, letting Jungkook catch up and follow your lead. 

“Wow,” Jungkook pulls away and his lips are shiny and flushed. Adorable. You think 7th grade Jungkook would be rolling in his Naruto sheets if he knew you two would inevitably end up together. Conversely, 7th grade you would be squealing in your kitten plushie, proud that you managed to nab your childhood crush to live out all the fantasies you’ve imagined since the 4th grade. 

“Jungkook,” you let your flannel fall to the floor in a heap, only leaving your baby blue top in a thin ruched camisole. “I think I want to do the photoshoot. Can’t pass up these pretty petals, y’know?” 

He runs a hand through his hair, gaping. “Really?” 

“Yeah,” you press a wet kiss to his neck, “anyway you want me, baby. Full creative control. I want you to like this as much as I do, okay?” 

With the permission to hold the wheel, Jungkook’s lightheaded and spinning. His eyes rake up and down your gorgeous form, wondering how many good deeds he’s done in his past life to earn a right just as this. 

“In that case,” he presses a palm to your shoulder, pushing you to sit along the velvet cushion, “strip for me.” 

[dotthings]

Let’s talk about why Dean dancing with a lamp is subtext, but it’s subtext that supports textual arcs. Dean dancing with a lamp is not random. Meta on why Dean dancing with a lamp is part of the build of a textual arc for Dean, thematically, which also connects to his relationship with Cas. This symbolic moment being tacitly about Destiel will only feel like reaching if you ignore context, ignore canon, ignore long arcing, ignore textual material surrounding it. This isn’t just me talking about a ship, this is an important arc for Dean himself emotionally and the way canon’s working, Cas has become the star player in this specific emotional Dean arc about yearning. 

Here are some canon quotes. I could just leave these here and not write another word of meta because the canon wrote it for me. But I’ve added some further commentary to spell out clearly what I’m getting at.

Dean in 8.14 “Trial and Error” by Andrew Dabb:

“You see a light at the end of this ugly-ass tunnel. I don't. But I tell you what I do know – it's that I'm gonna die with a gun in my hand. 'Cause that's what I have waiting for me – that's all I have waiting for me. I want you to get out. I want you to have a life – become a man of Letters, whatever. You, with a wife and kids and – and – and grandkids, living till you're fat and bald and chugging Viagra – that is my perfect ending, and it's the only one that I'm gonna get.”

Dean in 10.16 “Paint it Black” by Eugenie Ross-Lemming and Brad Buckner:

“You know, the life I live, the work I do…I pretty much just figured that that was all there was to me, you know? Tear around and jam the key in the ignition and haul ass until I ran out of gas. I guess I just thought sooner or later, I’d go out the same way that I live – pedal to the metal, and that would be it....Now, um… recent events, uh… make me think I might be closer to that than I really thought. And…I don’t know. I mean, you know, there’s – there’s things, there’s…people, feelings that I-I-I want to experience differently than I have before, or maybe even for the first time.”

Sam and Dean in 11.04 “Baby” by Robbie Thompson:

SAM: Really? You don't . . . Ever want something more? DEAN: I'm sorry, have you met us? We're batting a whopping zero in domestic life, man. Goose eggs. SAM: You don't ever think about something? Not marriage or whatever. But . . . Something? You know, with a hunter? Somebody who understands the life?

Sam and Dean in 13.23 “Let the Good Times Roll” by Andrew Dabb:

DEAN: But on a beach somewhere, you know? Can you imagine? You, me, Cas, toes in the sand, couple of them little umbrella drinks. Matching Hawaiian shirts, obviously. Some hula girls. SAM: You talking about retiring? You? DEAN: If I knew the world was safe? Hell, yeah. And you know why? 'Cause we freaking earned it, man.

Sam and Dean in 15.08 “Our Father, Who Aren’t in Heaven” by Eugenie Ross-Lemming and Brad Buckner:

DEAN: Look, man, I didn't want to say anything, okay, 'cause I was kind of in in a bad place, and, uh, yeah, I didn't want to jinx it or whatever, but, you know, I tried the family thing, right? SAM: Yeah, me too. And that's not for us. DEAN: No, not really. But I'm just saying if it was to work, Eileen, you know, she gets it. She gets us. She gets the life. She's hot. SAM: Dean. I mean, I'm not even- DEAN: Look, all I'm saying is you- you could do worse, okay? And she could certainly do better. Like, so much better. I'm happy for you, Sammy.

Dean and Garth in 15.10 “The  Heroes’ Journey” written by Andrew Dabb:

DEAN: You know, I gotta say, aside from pincushion in there… this is pretty nice. GARTH: Yeah, better than I ever thought I'd get. I mean, hunting -- I figured I'd be dead before I'm 40. You know, go out young and pretty. But now I've got a great wife, great kids. I guess...sometimes things work out.

Dean in 15.10 “The Heroes’ Journey” by Andrew Dabb:

Dean, wistful, watching through the window as Garth and Bess dance: You know, I always thought I could be a good dancer if I wanted to be.

Ok, let those roll around in your brain for moment. 

Now: CONTEXT. CONTEXT. CONTEXT.

There’s this long running arc about maybe Sam and Dean could each find a significant other, not white picket fence, but...something, with someone already in the life, who gets their life. There’s Dean’s move from despairing and believing the only ending he could have, the only ending any hunter could have, is dying with a gun in hand, to Dean’s enthusiasm for the concept of retirement, Dean’s wistfulness about finding a significant other, for what he thinks he can’t have, and he starts the cycle all over again, if he can’t have it, then he wants Sam to have it, so Dean encourages Sam with Eileen. Saileen, the Dean-blessed, Dean-approved Sam ship. Dean ships it. And that is how the canon is trending, complete with Sam and Eileen kissing goodbye and saying “this is real” and even God himself saying their feelings were real, “that was all you,” even if God manipulated events around them. Which is an overt mirror to Dean and Cas and Dean’s expressly stated doubts about what’s real and what isn’t, and Cas telling Dean “we are.” 

Much the way Sam has been witness to Destiel, and has often pointed out Dean’s Cas feelings. Dean’s got a front row seat to Saileen and approves; Sam’s had a front row seat to Destiel and approves. 

Let’s throw in Robert Berens’ work in The Trap here, since that’s relevant to this specific topic as well, because why did Sam and Dean in the potential future timeline where they’d killed Chuck give up and cave in to their vampire instincts? The world being overwhelmed with monsters...and losing Eileen and losing Cas. It’s right there in the dialogue. I’ll give you the quote and everything:

Sam and Dean in 15.09 “The Trap” by Robert Berens:

SAM: You want to quit? What's happened to you, Dean? Ever since -- DEAN: Ever since what? We lost pretty much everyone we've ever cared about? Ever since the Mark made Cas go crazy? Ever since I had to bury him in a Ma'lak box? Ever since then? Yeah. You know why? 'Cause the monsters -- they're everywhere. Everywhere! What we do -- it's not even Hunting anymore. It's whack-a-mole. We don't even save people. Every friend we've ever had is either dead, or they got wise and they packed it in. SAM: Jody's still fighting, and Bobby -- DEAN: Bobby has a death wish, and you know it. And Jody -- ever since what happened to Donna and the girls, she does, too. And after Eileen... so do you.

“Ever since” Dean had to bury Cas in a Ma’lak box. “After Eileen...so do you.” 

So there’s this canonical long, long thread across multiple authors (and those weren’t even all the quotes, I’m sure people could dig up more) about Dean in particular yearning towards finding a significant other, some contentment, with someone who already is in the hunting life, who gets it, who understands.  

An episode that flat out shows how losing their significant others is the final straw that rips out Sam and Dean’s last will to fight, and they lose themselves, and after they’re turned into vampires, they just...give into the darkness. Where Sam gives up their shot at destroying the big bad because losing everyone they love is too high a cost. Where losing Cas makes Dean lose hope, where losing Eileen sends Sam into a death wish mindset. Sam and Dean don’t just need each other. That’s not canon, it never has been.

And then right after that, along comes meta episode The Heroes’ Journey. Sorry if you don’t like The Heroes’ Journey, but it’s what the canon did, it’s textual, along with everything else I’ve pointed out here, and in among the crackish humor are some real emotional narrative points. 

In The Heroes’ Journey, Dean gets to see Garth’s life. Garth found his significant other, Bess, and she’s another werewolf. Now, Garth’s life resembles the traditional white picket fence idea a lot more than what Team Free Will are headed for. Garth has a big house with a porch, and he’s a dentist. He’s also a werewolf and his wife is a werewolf and his kids are werewolves because Bess is a pureblood werewolf, Garth didn’t exactly leave the life, and he helps Sam and Dean on a case. But nothing’s been indicating to me that anyone in Team Free Will is headed for that kind of settling down, with a house, becoming a dentist. However, the canon has been practically shouting now, as we near final episodes of SPN, to make the point about a desirable outcome--some kind of stability, contentment, and a significant other. Dean gets a front row seat to seeing a hunter can have that. Garth’s a hunter who turned into a werewolf and he can have that. 

When EP’s talk about how they aren’t headed for a white picket fence or driving off into the sunset or settling down, none of that rules out them finding...something...with someone, and some form of stability and contentment.  Nope, I can’t really imagine them in the suburbs becoming dentists. But canon sure is putting up big neon arrows to...something. Think outside the box. This isn’t about the white picket fence. 

And in The Heroes’ Journey, Dean, conked out on the good gas so Garth can fix his teeth, has a trippy dream where he dances with a lamp.

Rewatch the ep. Look at how the dance is choreographed not just the use of light, because that’s a clue too. The whole dance could have been Dean and Garth being dancing bros, but Garth fades off the stage, and Dean dances alone...until he grabs the standing lamp. In a season where Dean and Cas’s relationship is an A-plot, define it how you like, it’s A-plot. Their breakup and their reconciliation, which played like a marital breakup and reconciliation, are tied to major mytharc beats. In a season where a long-running textual theme about Dean’s developing hope for retirement and his wistfulness about “things...people...feelings...” is getting further play. Where Dean and Cas’s relationship continues to be one of the show’s most central ones.

Dean dances with a lamp. While his emotionally fraught, intense close relationship with Cas--A BEING MADE OF LIGHT--has a long-running arc and recently more and more textual level content spelling out the sublimated romantic interest in small words, while there’s an arc about Dean’s yearning for that stability, contentment, a significant other.

CONTEXT. 

We don’t think Destiel’s “going canon” because Dean dances with a lamp, it’s that Dean dancing with a lamp is kinda loud serving as reflection of canon textual arcing. Sometimes subtext adds a layer. Sometimes subtext is directly tied to the surface layers, an echo, a highlighter.

I’ll just be over here, crying because Dean danced with a lamp.

[collisiondiscourse]

on the wonder duo (part 1)

(BNHA Analysis Post Ahead! This isn’t explicitly romantic, but it is an analysis of the relationship between the two most popular characters in BNHA--Katsuki Bakugou and Izuku Midoriya. Split into two posts because I realized that this was gonna be long as HELL)

yall ever think about the fact that the wonder duo is perfectly set up in so that bakugou and deku together are the better version of all might?

bc like. ive been thinking.

everyone knows the win to save and save to win parallel. How they are supposedly two halves of a whole perfect hero (which, previously, was defined as all might)

but ever since bakugou and deku started working as one—growing together to win AND save and continuously reminding each other that they shouldnt try to do things alone, ive realized that its BECAUSE theres two of them that they surpass all might. its not a case of deku and bakugou both being 50% of an ideal hero, but rather i think that they are 100% of what all might SHOULD HAVE BEEN from the very beginning.

as early as the AM v AFO battle in kamino, we see the effects of all mights flawed existence. the fact that he, the greatest and supposedly infallible symbol of peace, was destroyed—society had begun to collapse. there was suddenly no pillar to hold people together and the impacts were so severe that even in the latest chapters of mha it keeps on getting worse. the truth is, all mights biggest mistake was the burden he placed on his own shoulders

with bakugou and deku... its different.

its different for them because down to their attributions, they seem like two halves of a whole person.

i think that the wonder duo are going to surpass all might because of the fact that they work together.

@bakugoukatsuki-rising @svpercraigus @tybee​ @isaustraliaathing​

(batshit crazy and conspiratorial essay under the cut !)

1. Complementary Colors

I’d like to first preface literally everything I say by the fact that I am not an expert analyzer or literary major in any way. I am literally just some random fan on the internet who has wayyy too much time and looks wayyy too deep into things, but here we go!

A common thing we see when we talk about bakugou and deku is the way they are... sort of an inverse of one another.

Down to the design of their features and the way they move, Deku is the obviously softer of the two. There’s an intentional contrast between the two of them, in the way that Deku’s drawn with round shapes and curvy hair and the way Bakugou is literally all spikes and half-mast eyes and rough muscles. Bakugou’s movements too are languid and showy, with the way he leans when he walks and splays his legs and kicks open doors. Katsuki, in a casual sense, is loud and dramatic. 

Deku on the other hand s finicky. He jitters when he walks and he’s often fidgeting and mumbling. Comparatively, the aura he radiates is energetic and frenzied, even self-conscious to a point unlike Bakugou’s calm and confident movements.

the point is, there’s a clear difference in how either of them are designed and what exactly they are supposed to represent. They utterly complement each other down to the way they behave and even their main colors (red-orange and blue-green) being literal complementary colors.

Now, moving to my more ungrounded points, this is quite a bit of a stretch so I’ll try as much as possible to make sense of these with hyperlinked sources because. yeah.

Down to their names, I think Deku and Bakugou both symbolize something deeper. I think that the way Hori expresses characters and what they’re meant to do is something that we have to pay close attention to when we talk about the Wonder Duo’s rise to success.

Izuku Midoriya (緑谷 出久), as some of us may know, does have an interesting meaning when broken up. According to a lovely fan translation of his name, ‘Izuku’--while not an actual name used commonly in real life--means to ‘Come out’ or ‘Long time’. ‘Midoriya’ on the other hand means (Midori) ‘Green’ and (ya) ‘valley’. The translator further pointed out that his first name ‘Izuku’ could be a reference to him being the first legendary hero to come out of the long-running All Might Era. (or, if you’ve been reading @/bakugoukatsuki-rising’s posts, the first significant anime protag in a long while to come out as queer, ppfft)

but that isn’t my focus right now.

We know that Hori LOVES telling stories with names, and more often than not in the BNHA universe, names alone tell us a lot of things about the characters. When referring to Izuku’s last name, Midoriya, it’s important I think to step back and realize that hey, maybe there’s something more to Green Valley than just the fact that his motif is all green.

After searching for a lil on the specifics of green valley, I’ve found out that across many cultures, the colour green and valleys in general tend to represent life. From dream analysts, to Christianity, and even old Taoist teachings, valleys are seen as areas of fertility and escape. They are seen as safe havens and often escapes for people to come to after running away from bad circumstances.

(Sound familiar?)

Deku, in essence represents life and peace. He represents being the “salvation” that the world in BNHA needed. To me, it sounds like Horikoshi is trying to say that he is the long-awaited hero in the sense. The one that people can feel will create a society that feels safe for everyone after years of All Might just saving people from themselves as a band-aid solution.

On the other hand, we have Katsuki Bakugou (爆豪 勝己), who’s name we commonly know means (Katsuki) Winner and (Bakugou) Explosion Master. He is essentially, the champion. The power. His name means success and power and all the things that make up winning.

When putting them side by side, it then becomes increasingly... interesting to me how their names almost perfectly slot into All Might’s save to win and win to save mantra, and how they are both quintessential parts to what made All Might as a hero.

2. Hero Too!

Now, I’m not even gonna really TOUCH much of what happens in canon. If you want me to do a step by step breakdown of their arcs in regards to the plot of manga and anime, feel free to send me a gratuitous ko-fi tip so I can pay for the headache I get after trying to organize my thoughts into word vomit.

What I WILL talk about on the other hand, is the subtle shift both of them slowly have in regards to how they look. Bakugou and Deku, while growing up, seem to have MANY many parallels--but before I elaborate on all of that, I wanna talk about something else.

Detour: Deku’s Red Shoes 

We all know the iconic symbol being Deku’s red shoes. For all his life, save for some outfits like his hero one, we see Deku more often than not wearing his signature red sneakers which have become a running joke in fandom.

But the funny thing is, in Japan, red shoes seem to have an interesting connotation.

In 1922, a popular Japanese nursery rhyme was written, called “Red Shoes”. The interesting part to me about this song was the symbolism that, in my tiny pea-sized brain, I could connect to the story of BNHA.

The story goes that there was a little girl with red shoes named ‘Kimi’. She was from Shizuoka prefecture (which, if you didn’t know, is most likely where Musutafu supposedly is) and was raised by a single mother. When she was young, her mother had to entrust her with a foreigner under the impression that they would give her a better life in America. The stranger is a man named Charles Hewitt (who was described to have blue eyes) and supposedly took her away. 

The singer of the song (supposedly the mother, but some argue it was written from the perspective of a childhood friend) believes that Kimi is happy and living a better life away from them, when the reality of the situation was much worse. The young girl with red shoes in actuality had Tuberculosis, and thus the foreigner whom she was entrusted to had left her to fend for herself and eventually left her to go to America while she died alone and orphaned.

“When I see red shoes, I think of her.”

A very interesting story with very interesting implications indeed.

-

Anyway, moving on to the more... “nuanced” and connected parts of this section, I have every reason to believe that Bakugou and Deku were simply MEANT to be working together down to how they dress. Now, I’d like to discuss their hero costumes.

At the start of their series, using these godawful pics for reference, it’s clear to see that neither of them seem alike in any way--reflecting the dissonance in their relationship at that point in canon.

ough. deku why. (yes we know why its because you love your mom you stupid little bunny <3)

Anyway, we see an immediate gap in how the two of them are. Deku’s first costume is one that reflects how he treated his dream of being a hero. He was still in that childlike idolization phase, the one where his dreams and aspirations were hinged on pure feelings and inspiration from All Might. Katsuki on the other hand was a lot more tactical--professional to an extent. The gap between their respective development with their quirks is something that is clearly felt in every fashion decision they’d made.

(Notice how Deku’s green is a lot brighter and less like the green accents Katsuki has all over his costume.)

As time progressed however... their costumes changed. The colors, the silhouettes, the practical functions, most things.

(Deku’s Gamma Costume and Bakugou’s Winter Costume used respectively)

we begin to notice a few similarities.

As the show goes on and we see more evolutions of their costumes, it almost seems like they begin to look like a matching pair. Deku’s green grows darker and almost teal in nature, while Bakugou’s orange is veering towards red territory. This is important to note because red-orange and blue-green as I said earlier were complementary colors as compared to simply orange and green. The minute shift is something I really wasn’t quite sure was intentional, but something I find interesting to pick up nonetheless as the colors they used to accent their costumes begin to match up.

Secondly, I think and important thing to note is silhouettes. The way that both Bakugou and Deku’s costumes are designed follow a lot of parallels that typically we don’t see with the rest of 1-A. For one, they both have a combination of tight long-sleeved tops with a bulkier set of bottoms. They also share the use of utility belts and metal pieces typically worn around their necks. Deku has his bunny-eared hood that mimics All Might’s hair, while Bakugou has his orange and black explosion ear-pieces that mimic his own quirk.

i don’t think any other people in class 1-A match each other as subtly yet strongly as these two. Uraraka and Deku and Bakugou and Kirishima do come close however.

“But Codi, you fucking knob!” I hear you plea. “This is such a reach and tells us practically NOTHING!” And yes, I’m inclined to agree with you! You’d be sort of right in the idea that this is a reach. Maybe I am looking too much into this, and maybe it really isn’t that deep--but I do think that them subconsciously matching outfits means something quite brilliant.

In the way that their costumes are designed, each aspect of either outfits have a very logical explanation. The changes were strategic and made with their fighting styles vividly in mind, so what that tells me is that BECAUSE these costumes are so complementary or similar in nature (Bakugou’s reinforcing his arms while Deku reinforces his legs), these two are implicitly showing the audience that their combat styles are complementary as well. 

The evolution of their design choices and similarities tell us that even unknowingly, their minds line up in strategy on the battlefield--a clear exhibit for why they would be INCREDIBLY POWERFUL as a Hero Duo to begin with.

When I look at their hero costumes side by side, I see a mirror. I see the way that these two are reflections of each other and are strong where the other isn’t. The point I see in BNHA repeatedly is that EVERYONE HAS A WEAKNESS. Nothing is infallible, regardless of how hard you train or how powerful your quirk is. Everyone will always have a weakness, but the significant difference I see when fandom discusses the future of Pro-Hero Society is that the new generation is finally raising itself to be RELIANT on each other. 

Observing their fighting styles and the simple use of their quirks, its obvious that they are indeed two parts of a whole hero. Bakugou, who’s quirk emphasized his arms and hands and the power that comes from it, while Deku who’s quirk now emphasizes his legs and lower body and the way he’s always running to save people.

IN CONCLUSION:

As they become heroes, it is easy to assume that if nothing else, Bakugou and Deku will cover each other’s weak spots (especially when you consider the way Deku probably won’t be able to keep using his arms with the way both the anime and manga are going...) (also chapter 285, anyone?)

-

Part Two: Interactions, OfA

kofi || commission details

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S5 Ep 20: Pharaoh’s Cool New Trick

Digging my way through quite a pile of commission work (funny how these things only come all at once or not at all), nearing the light at the end of the tunnel, was looking forward to some free time to catch up on my many little side projects when I was asked to take off for a weekend to do some cat-sitting to which I would NEVER say no to a cat, so like...Rip this blog I guess, we only update like once a week nowadays, but what do you do?

That’s right, play Puzzles and Dragons! The only phone game worth paying any attention to! Where they just released Pegasus on their Yugioh Collab and he looks pretty great!

So I’m just gonna take a second for some art appreciation, because the Puzzles and Dragons art team is just A++++ honestly, and yes, I did pull 13 times to get a Pegasus in my monster box, and yes, he is a completely insane team leader that is absolutely broken when paired with Yugi (the numbers are so satisfying) but...look at him. He looks so good!

(also I finally got Joey Wheeler, and so now my gatcha cravings are settled. And, don’t worry, I play this game so much that I was there during Christmas when they offered like a bajillion stones for free so I didn’t actually use real money on this.)

Now PAD also released a Weevil and Rex, and I don’t know why, and neither does the art team because they still look pretty good but in comparison to all the mains, they sure do looks like just some shorty guys in some casuals.

though I gotta admit, I want to learn how the hell this art team does swooshy effects, because man, that would make my art so much better to just have flames violently exploding out of all my art. Why am I not doing that more often? I have the technology.

anyway, I didn’t bother trying to pull them. Maybe I’ll accidentally pull them when they eventually release a Duke Devlin. (also, RIP to the fact that Roland will probably never be in Puzzles and Dragons but like...I can only send them so many polite letters covered in stickers pretending I’m some 10 year old child and writing in my broken Hiragana “Roland in PAD?”. Thems the breaks. (They also might not remember who Roland is.))

Shoutouts to the card that Weevil is holding that is censoring this nipple on the booby spider, PS.

So because this is not actually a Puzzles and Dragons blog, and it’s been ten eons since I regularly updated so I could remember episode to episode...where the hell were we?

That’s right, we’re on an island now. This show’s wonderful obsession with evil islands (and spoiler, this is one of the few Yugioh Islands that doesn’t explode at the end. Mostly because Kaiba isn’t here to do it or this place would be cinder)

(read more island stuff under the cut)

Anyway, after announcing “hey guys! Screw islands!” Yugi immediately collapses and without any warning.

Apparently the armor is a big ol parasite, which is something that Yugi is so used to at this point that he refuses to admit that this is a problem. Just normal Muto stuff, refusing to tell anyone that he has a serious illness going on underneath that giant mass of hair.

(the sailor moon vibes coming off this weird orb energy)

Sort of feels like a call back to S1 when Yugi was clearly possessed and everyone else was like “He acting weird to you?” except it’s S5 and everyone has learned to never trust Yugi when he says he’s fine and they are responding like he is about to die. Which is correct.

Outside of the cave falls this scroll that is...glowing, I guess. So they open it up and get a bunch of hieroglyphs that give them the “riddle of light” and like youknow...it’s riddle stuff.

They’re doing this riddle for “wings.” And it’s like...everyone’s monster here has a set of wings or an ability to fly. Every single monster except for I dunno, flaming swordsman? Hell, Yugi himself had two sets of wings when he fused with Dark Magician (which was weird, and I still don’t like to think about what technically was going on there.) But we have to go and get ourselves even more wings.

Weirdly, Joey turns to Tea and does something that in any other show would be completely normal. He was like “you want to stay here with Yugi, don’t you?” and it was the first time Joey has ever actually addressed the fact that Tea and Yugi are close. Uncharted territory. I was amazed at the amount of casual shipping that is happening here. It’s almost like a normal ass relationship.

So the boys decide to go off, and be boys and tackle this themselves. And they shouldn’t have, because Tea is smart for this group, and also has the only healing spell.

Like if you’re playing D+D you wouldn’t typically leave your only healer behind. Just saying.

Also like...Grandpa Muto went with them? I guess he’d have to since he’s the translator but also...kind of weird to leave your grandson dying in a cave, but maybe that’s just the Muto lifestyle.

Do not be fooled by my caps, no one has addressed the Bakura in the puzzle for 3 seasons. I’m starting to think this show will never address the Bakura in the puzzle. Which honestly, that would be hilarious if they made a big deal out of that plot point and then couldn’t use it in the end.

And speaking of plot points that kind of come out of nowhere and don’t make full sense with the continuity of the show--Joey has regressed back to the 4th grade.

Hey show? What?

So like if you love Joey, this is not the arc for you, because this arc he is reduced to a Himbo and nothing else. Straight up didn’t know what an echo is, but is very strong and pretty, I guess.

This inevitably happens with any TV show becuase different people make different parts, and I’ve brought up before that sometimes it feels like some teams only have loose post-it notes of what any character should be like at any given point (ESPECIALLY with Seto Kaiba’s timeline) but like...

...Personally I’m mot so fond of this interpretation of Joey, kind of ignores Joey’s best traits, and makes Tristan look way too smart in comparison (and like I always pinned Tristan to be the Himbo of the group, but maybe it’s because they give Tristan so little else to do?)

And like don’t get me wrong, Joey’s a dumbass a lot of the time and needs to get corrected by his pals...but...to the point he doesn’t know what an echo is? He’s a dumbass in a High School student sort of way, youknow?

Anyway, they get down to this big ravine, and they have to destroy this stone while the light passes over it. Kind of feels like a Breath of the Wild shrine quest, actually. In fact, I think Breath of the Wild recycled the shadow/sunlight pathing quest like 4 or 5 times. (I love Breath of the Wild to death but boy did they run out of ideas at the end there.)

They have to fight a glass monster and it’s kind of like...do you know the game Balls 3D? probably not, but it looked like a bunch of random shapes stuck together like a 90′s animation. They basically went to war with shapes.

Pure Himbo energy, has several pokemon, but punches for his pokemon instead of using them. A power move if I ever saw one.

Youknow that would make pokemon a lot more interesting if you could like throw out your pikachu, and then choose to just physically run up to your opponents Eevee and sock it in the jaw. Raise of hands--I know you all would love a version of pokemon like that. Let Ash Ketchum punch a Ratata.

Bro has informed me that Ash does do something like this in the anime. But I’m not talking about the anime, I’m talking about the video game. Give me the option to physically combat my rival. This is what I want, Pokemon.

They discover a way to break the monolith, and the show thinks we’re like actually 7 years old (because the show is Y7, although I forget because it deals with so many dark themes) so the show is going to hold on to this puzzle for a while...just to fill time. And it’s fine because we gotta switch over to Pharaoh anyway.

Yami has this dream again. He attempts to fuse with Dark magician to overcome the dream, but alas, he is still not strong enough.

Yugi wakes up in this murky cave while Tea is out washing out like...some rag? (he’s also still got a rag, so I guess multiple rags were required for how sweaty Yugi is.)

Yugi says “I feel like I’m a new man!” a lot in this episode, and every time he calls himself a man like he’s some sort of adult it’s very funny to me.

And then this plot lore dropped.

I mean I guess inevitably it had to happen...

But man, end of an era. It was freakin hilarious while it lasted: that Pharaoh refused to read ancient Egyptian because it’s like 2002 and he is a High Schooler living in Japan and he actually doesn’t WANT to resolve the mystery of the puzzle. Maybe the people who made this arc don’t know about how in S2 and S3, the fact Pharaoh couldn’t read Marik’s back tatt was like...a really big issue. He couldn’t read the God card, he couldn’t even read that massive tablet that read “HEY PHARAOH THIS IS LITERALLY YOU”. KAIBA had to tell him how to read the God card for him. Freakin Seto “Magic is a lie” Kaiba had to tell him how to use the God Card because Pharaoh couldn’t read it.

But like...Pharaoh finally gave in at some point after the world was devoured by the Leviathan, and before Kaiba finished building Kaibaland (which was already built in S1 but wtv)

The timelines on this show have always been a mishmash...but this one is just like...

...show are you trying to convince me that at any point in this show after season Zero, Pharaoh had any idea what he was doing? Did he sap that brain energy straight out of Joey Wheeler so he could do this?

Wow.

(secretly hoping he forgets how to read Egyptian after this arc is over and the show goes back to the other development team)

Pharaohs reasoning is that, if this is the riddle of the light.....

....then where is the riddle of darkness????????????

and when Tea was like “Pharaoh that is not even remotely logic. Omg it’s so bright outside, lets go back to gross cave.” and Pharaoh was like “Tea! You got it!” and she was like “What the hell are you talking about?”

Not gonna lie, I saw the Orichalcos green, and I got concerned.

Anyway, Yugi gets very frustrated and was like “ugh, lets go save em. They’re gonna die (again.)” and marches down there as if he didn’t pass out an hour ago.

And he fuses with Dark Magician again while everyone else (including his grandpa) was like “Yugi are you freakin kidding me? The suit freakin kills you omg! Tea you had one freakin job!”

And then we get the plot twist that...I mean it makes sense but it was choreographed in a confusing way.

And out of no where this guy shows up again:

So this mysterious man shows up and says “If you don’t succeed you have to live here forever” which...nice...that would probably save the world a lot of problems if Yami got locked away and took his OP puzzle with him. And then this man also says “if you do succeed you become VERY POWERFUL” and Yami was like. “...”

This whole episode had a theme to it, where Tristan and Joey were trying to prove that they could do things on their own and without Yugi’s help. And honestly...felt a little bit misplaced. Yami’s the same guy who murdered Yugi last season with the Orichalcos so like...

...I mean he is probably more reliable than Tristan who once died and turned into a robot monkey for 10ish episodes.

and then they flew into a glowing door.

Folks, this was wild to look at.

This is wild.

And at this point I closed Photoshop and thought I was done. But then I looked at my timeline on the video and was like...wait...there’s more?

and I’m really glad I kept watching because it went back to Alex, who...is apparently just still at those steps in this haunted ass Pyramid.

Now we’re watching Yugioh.

I forgot for a second when they turned Joey into a Himbo and made Pharaoh literate, but we’re back. I mean...

...look at the liner art on this adult man.

So...I posit the question...has Alex spent the last 2-3 episodes doing nothing but applying eyeliner to his face in the dark? Because he absolutely has. And honestly, the vibe of being in a spooky haunted pyramid with barely any light, just applying eyeliner down the edge of your face...that’s a Yugioh vibe, if I ever saw one.

This arc is wild. Anyway, next episode we do even more fetch quests and riddles? Just going to guess now that we probably will.

(and for those new here, this is a link so you can read them from the top. Which, since we’re in S5, means you got like...hours of Yugioh content to read through. Enjoy the rewards of my weird hobby.)

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

[botwstoriesandsuch]

hey Kip! I’m sending asks into different writer’s askboxes, inquiring about cool themes/development facts/stuff the author wants to share about their personal favorite work of their own. What’s yours? :)

Ok so this ask is old and when I first got it I was like “dang I don’t really have a lot to talk about, what should I talk about I could those revalink headcanons the Kip Cut that turned into a working fic uhh hmm maybe I’ll just make something new to talk about real quick” and then I did and now there is a 12+ chapter Revalink fic in my drafts and I’m gonna talk about that now, whoopsie doopsie [click "j" to skip]

aHEM, OK so allow me to break out the primary school white board because yeah, I have a lot of thoughts and the oxford comma has not yet made it’s home into my brain. oh and spoilers for paraphrase. for both all of Chapter one and future events in later chapters, but it’s really nothing you couldn’t surmise from the AO3 tags

so I really wanted to tell the story of Revali and Link learning and struggling to love again after the less-than-fortunate events of Botw, but I wanted a...how you say...fresher, approach on the subject? Like I know we always say that fanfic writers writing the same tropes and stories time and time again is good because we eat that shit up--but at the same time I had asian parenting as was told never to half ass anything ever, no matter what. So now I'm gay and extra and have depression maybe and oh would you look at that @motherhyrule has dropped a beautiful revalink prompt right into my lap

Great so now that we have, that, I shall take you on the step by step process on how to make a :sparkles: story. So step one is to spend at least five to eleven business days for your white board to dismantle your genre and themes and work them around your character arcs. Luckily I have prepared one ahead of time

s*breaks out those laser pointers that uni professors use* So let's start with defining genre. As define because I HATE you, fuck you. I want you to suffer and writhe on the ground, motherfucker. How dare you think that I would give you nothing but pure predictable fluff, fuck you and yours

is the set of expectations that your audience has when consuming a piece of media

And the great thing about fanfiction is that unlike movies or book where the genres are more vague like, "oh it's a noir mystery genre. so there's a crime, maybe a murder, and a detective and a criminal." or "oh it's a teen romance. so there's some white people and a morally questionable six-pack 18 year old love interest that will be painted as desirable for some reason" BUT with fanfiction HALF of the work out the window, because as soon as you see those #revalink #aro sidon #zelpha #revali is an idiot and #found family tags you already know what's up.

Now what's so great about genre and expectation? Well the fun thing about it is that

I will use it to fucking break you.

... ... ...

<3 For example! <3

In Chapter 1: Holes, you already expect there to be revalink, you already expect them to be soulmates with the soulmarks and there's angst and yadayada ya. Revali and Link have to match because thatttss what this is all about, this is about them! This is about cute, little soulmarks and romantic words!

But whoooopsie doopsie [disney channel laugh track plays] they DON'T match anymore! Link's got a different mark! The number one rule of this entire genre has been broken whoooooooooooooooops. *ba dum tiss*

You might notice with a lot of my writing that I do this a lot, this whole..."oop but there's one little thing that's different." TebaSaki sick fic? Ok cool, but what if Teba burns an irreplaceable relic of the Rito champion to fight a wizzrobe first to characterize why his dumbass clicks with Saki. Mipha deciding to persue Link? Ok what if she chases after a dragon to externalize this conflict as she pierces it's flesh for a scale. Link fighting a Lynel? Ok but what if it's actually a sidlink angst fic in disguise and it's also world building on how Link deals with the bloodmoon that erases all of his efforts which is sort of similar to how his existence was erased from Hyrule 100 years ago mwaahahaha! Ok now that I say this outloud I think I just have a pattern of using fight scenes to externalize character growth. I like fight scenes...anyways.

I think another great thing about the realm of fanfiction is that with the tagging system, I can basically use a chekhov's gun sort of deal, without doing any writing. You know I'm gonna use that gun marked "soulmates" but you don't know when I'm gonna shoot it, and you SURE as hell don't know how.

And huzzah! One of the main points of conflict both drives the tension between Revali and Link, solidifies the unique genre and setting of this world, while also creating a new mystery that will carry over for the next few chapters.

Is Revali right in that Link's rebirth makes him destined for someone new now? What will Link do with the information that his soulmark has changed? Why did it change? Did Revali's change as well? How does anything fucking work right now?

And sure, you might be able to tell where things will end with them, but you sure as fuck will not know how because I HATE you. Fuck you. I want you to suffer and writhe on the ground, motherfucker. How dare you think that I would give you nothing but pure predictable fluff. I am not your goddamn fairy godmother, I will do as I fucking please. You will suffer as you fucking deserve, fuck you and your little tiny--

/j

Oh! But you might have noticed on my little planning whiteboard thing that there was a little T-Chart! For Revali and Link! That's because the next important thing besides plot (and in a lot of cases, including this one, it's argued to be even MORE important than plot) is

~CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT~

[to the tune of that history of the world video on youtube]

So yes, it's a little T-Chart outlining their character views in relation to the themes. And the great thing about themes is that they're not something you can necessarily predict in the same way you can with the genre and plot.

But now see, I'm very lazy so I'm just gonna plagiarize @hyrule-kingdom-updates thingy [that you should read btw] because they said my point quite clear enough

Now I don't really need to care about those points about bond and relationships and being understood, because I'm dealing with already established canon characters. I'm not some NERD who dabbles with entire casts of ocs who even cares about ocs not me that's for sure ahaahahaahahahahahaahahahahahAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH *cries in my orphaned WTTU fic* AHAHAHA*sobs*DONT FUCKING LOOK AT ME THAT WAY I SWEAR--

/j I love ocs

But the points I do wanna focus on is the idea that characters provide new perspectives on the theme, and that characters growth can be tracked based on their wants, lies, and needs.

So see, themes can be predicted the same as genre/plot because while you can have the same fanfic plots and tropes, theme will always vary!

Sometimes it's a journey of selfworth with Revali! Sometimes it's an exploration of trauma with Link. Sometimes it's about how you deal with the vulnerabilities of love with Mipha. Sometimes there's straight up NOOOO theme, and people just be fucking, and kissing, and baking, and having a good time. And that is totally fine too!

But I'm not a fucking coward.

I'm gonna weave in themes with my plot, because I fucking can.

I'm not a weakling like you.

Do you hear me, 2019 Kip? Do you hear me Demmers? Do you hear me Quill? I'm coming for your ass. You think you're so great, but I'm coming for you. Rest assured that your graves will be as deep as your sculptured pride--

Heeeere is that T-Chart again, plus more!

yyyyyYou might notice that Revali and Link are quite parallel, to paraphrase. Ayoooo, see what I did there? *dabs* I'm a genius. Anywho

They both start off the same way: 100 years ago they were in love and happy. Basically the equivalent of childish naivety. For the first time in their lives, life is whimsical and charming, and they make each other happy. In fact, it's almost a flaw with how they perceive this happiness. But don't worry! It doesn't last long!

You know what happens.

I think the chart is pretty self explanatory. Revali builds walls fast enough to give a republican a wet dream. Meanwhile Link makes every aromantic in the chat groan with his doubled down sentiments in the idea that his chances of being truly happy again are gone.

Now, I can't exactly describe the full on process of the inbetweens, and where Revali and Link are gonna go from here, because...you have to read it for yourself! Heehee...but something I did think was fun was how these character views on the themes are revealed. Because you'll notice that, I never give exposition. Ever.

Ok well, let me rephrase that. I never give exposition scenes. I will never give you a big LOTR fancy wizard scene explaining the ins and outs of a character's question or the world's magic or whatever. I'm a very impatient Kip, and I value efficiency. Nonono, it's all about multi tasking, baby!

Chapter 1: Holes is divided into three parts.

Post 100 Years - Medoh (Establishes Ghost Rev/Bonk Head Link's view)

100 Years Ago - Flight Range (Establishes old Revalink views)

Post 100 years - Mark (Develops Ghost Rev/Bonk Head Link's view in contrast to who they once were)

I think the way that you structure flashbacks is incredible vital, as it's a very quick way to characterize people without having them say stuff like "I used to be like you, until I took an arrow to the knee" or whatever.

And with the main structure of the chapters and the fic as a whole is focus on their characters, that means I can hide whatever other stuff I want in those scenes, becuase you're too busy absorbing the fun character stuff to realizing I'm giving you boring exposition. Like for example:

Post 100 Years - Medoh and Mark

Foreshadowing for the end of the fic

Set up connection to Medoh with Revali

Link has defeated Windblight

Link has been visiting Revali every night for the past few days

Link has already met Kass and presumably Teba

Link doesn't have the Mastersword

Revali's Gale is still an ability that needs master and practice on Link's end

And that's just some of the stuff.

And see, the only reason I can efficiently give all of this information regarding character, and even exposition, is because of the theme. The themes make everything relevant, and everything circles and encompasses one another, so there's absolutely no wasted space. I mean don't even get me started on how it's gonna be to characterize the other characters around this

I don't wanna talk about the other characters too much either because that's spoilers, but you can probably take a gandar based on my notes.

And oh my god this is just on the theme of the faults that come with "soulmates" and "true love" and all that, and how even magical destined relationships still require work and effort, and that no one thing or person solves all your problems. And that's not even TOUCHING the shit on trauma and scars. I didn't think it was even possible for me to talk about botw without touching on that, ha. Ah well, I've been talking for too long.

Revalink has a lot o' writing potential so das pretty cool yeah, I am excite

[blueascend]

Most days, Adachi eats lunch with Kurosawa. Since they work in different departments they don’t see each other too much during the work day, so it’s nice to spend that bit of time together. 

Today however, Kurosawa is out with a group of other salesmen from their floor, to close a deal with Cube Enix. Toyokawa is to produce themed stationary to advertise an upcoming anime adaption for one of their series. Kurosawa had told Adachi some of the details while they cooked last night but Adachi hadn’t retained a lot of it, too focused on preparing the ingredients right and not screwing up dinner.

“It’s called - cuties something?” Adachi tells Fujisaki over lunch. 

“Cuties Force X?” Fujisaki says.

“Ah, that’s right! You know it?”

Fujisaki shrugs. “I’ve seen advertisements around. It’s about a group of anthropomorphic animals but I’m not sure about the plot. It looks cute, though, perfect for themed stationary.”

“Hm.” Adachi takes a bite of his burger. “I guess so.”

They finish eating in companionable silence. As they head back to the office, they hear loud chatter and peals of laughter echoing down the hallway. A woman passes them and Adachi’s eyes widen for a moment - she’s sprouted cat ears! - before realizing she’s wearing a headband.

He and Fujisaki exchange puzzled looks but they get their answer as soon as they enter the office. A group of people is gathered around a stack of boxes, and they’re pulling out animal-themed headbands. 

“Adachi! Fujisaki!” Rokkaku calls, waving them over. Kurosawa is standing next to him, wearing an abashed grin and a pair of - are those fox ears? “What do you think?”

“Where did these come from?” Fujisaki asks, accepting the headband Rokkaku thrusts at her. It’s a pair of brown, white-speckled deer ears. At Rokkaku’s urging, she puts them on.

“We closed the deal with Cube Enix! They gave us all this merchandise in order to inspire the planning and development team. But they said they didn’t need all of it, so we offered to take some of the boxes off their hands.”

Adachi peers into the nearest box. It looks like someone threw all their surplus Cuties Force X merchandise in there, all different sorts of headbands and tail pieces carelessly mixed together. 

“We’re picking out headbands based on personality,” one of their coworkers, Nakamura, explains. She’s wearing a pair of zebra ears, which Adachi has no idea what says about her.

“That’s why Kurosawa is a fox,” another coworker, Chino, adds with a giggle.

Kurosawa gives her a polite, somewhat uncomfortable smile. Adachi wants to say something, to deflect the unwanted attention away from him, but thankfully Rokkaku intervenes before he has to.

“What about me?” he asks the women, pointing at his own bare head. “What animal suits me?”

Nakamura tilts her head. “Hm. A bear maybe?”

“A bear?” Rokkaku repeats incredulously. 

“Or a frog?” Chino says.

“A -  they don’t even have ears!”

Adachi startles when something touches his head. He turns to see Kurosawa grinning at him, hands raised to place a headband in Adachi’s hair. Curious, Adachi reaches up to feel long, soft ears.

“Rabbit?” he guesses.

“Bunny,” Kurosawa says, leaning in to quietly add, “because you’re quiet, reserved… and cute.”

Adachi feels his cheeks grow warm but he’s put up with Kurosawa’s teasing for long enough to be able to maintain eye contact at least. “And what’s it supposed to mean that you make me a bunny when you’re a fox?”

“Hm.” Kurosawa tilts his head. “That I want to chase you?”

“And eat me?” Adachi dryly asks. Kurosawa’s grin just widens and okay, now Adachi does have to look away before his face combusts. “Pervert.”

He goes to remove the ears but Kurosawa grabs his wrist to stop him. “Don’t you want to keep them on? Everyone else is.”

Adachi looks around the office to find that Kurosawa is right. Everyone, even the people sitting at their desks, hard at work, is wearing animal ears. 

“They suit you,” Kurosawa adds. 

Adachi huffs. He leans in, quickly whispering before he loses courage, “So do yours.”

It’s worth the embarrassment when Kurosawa beams at his compliment.

*

Adachi blinks. He’s standing in a clearing in a darkened forest, the huge crowns of the trees above blocking nearly any hint of light. The ground below him is soft and damp, fragrant with the heavy scent of decaying leaves. 

He looks around but sees no one. There are no sounds either aside from the wind rustling the leaves; no birds chirping, no small creatures scattering across the forest floor. Whever Adachi is, he’s far away from his burrow.

His… burrow?

Ah, that’s right. He’s a bunny, he lives in a burrow at the edge of the forest. He had to enter it for - something? Food, maybe? For some reason, Adachi is finding it hard to concentrate, to form any concrete thoughts.

Behind him, a twig snaps. Adachi twirls around, ears raised, whole body alert. It’s a fox - a human? - a fox, with orange ears nestled in his dark hair. He’s wearing a suit and looks comically out of place, leaning casually against one of the trees.

“Are you lost, bunny?” the fox asks. It’s Kurosawa, but it’s not, and Adachi can’t figure out how that makes sense but somehow, it does. 

He straightens and Adachi leans back on his heels.

“Don’t come closer,” he says, raising his hands as if he has a chance in hell of fighting the fox off should he decide to give chase. 

Kurosawa grins, clearly thinking the same thing. “Or what? You’ll cuddle me into submission?”

Adachi doesn’t respond. There’s a hungry gleam in Kurosawa’s eyes and it’s making Adachi’s heart pound, making him want - want to be chased, to be caught. 

Clearly, something is wrong with his instincts. He’s just not cut out to be a prey animal.

“Don’t worry.” Kurosawa takes a small step closer. Adachi takes a step back. “My fangs are sharp. You’ll barely feel it when I sink them into your throat.”

Adachi swallows. 

He bolts.

He hears Kurosawa give chase.

Heart hammering wildly as if trying to escape from his chest, Adachi can barely see his surroundings as he runs past them, blurring into shades of green and brown. He’s fast, faster than Kurosawa, but he doesn’t know this forest as well as the fox. 

Every step counts, every stumble could seal his fate. The wind whips past his ears, the taste of copper rising on his tongue. In the distance, he can see the treeline start to grow thinner, rays of sunshine escaping through, and somehow Adachi knows that if he only makes it there, he will have escaped the fox.

He doesn’t. 

His foot catches on a raised root and Adachi goes flying, breath knocked out of him as he lands on the forest floor. He turns around, trying to get back on his feet, but Kurosawa is on top of him in a second, pinning him down.

Adachi stares up at him, frozen. Kurosawa stares back, eyes dark, his grip warm and solid around Adachi’s wrists.

“I caught you,” the fox says.

“Yeah,” Adachi breathes out. He should probably be terrified but it’s not fear that sends his heart pounding again as Kurosawa lowers his head, lips trailing softly against the column of his neck.

“You know what that means, don’t you?”

Kurosawa’s grip on Adachi’s wrists tightens and he’s opening his mouth, tongue hot against Adachi’s skin, his entire body pressed against Adachi’s. Adachi feels the touch of fangs against his throat and squeezes his eyes shut, prepared to feel them sink in when -

A loud noise startles him awake. 

Adachi stares up at the ceiling, brain trying to catch up with everything that just happened. It was… a dream?

Next to him, Kurosawa groans and then leans over Adachi to turn off the alarm on the nightstand. He runs his hand through his hair and then lies down again, giving Adachi a curious look.

“Adachi? Are you okay?”

Adachi blinks. He’s not sure. Is he okay?

“Bad dream?” Kurosawa guesses, rubbing Adachi’s arm comfortingly.

“Ah-” Adachi looks away, heat rising to his cheeks. “Not exactly.”

“Not...” Something new enters Kurosawa’s voice, making it husky. “A good dream, then?”

Adachi swallows. “M-maybe.”

There’s a brief silence. Then Kurosawa’s fingers are gently grasping Adachi’s chin, turning his head to face him. Adachi reluctantly lets him and when he looks Kurosawa in the eyes, they’re gleaming in a familiar way that sends heat pooling in his gut. 

“Wanna tell me about it?” 

[rubykgrant]

I’m gonna write out little high-lights of my RVB Monster AU for Halloween reasons~ Things happen in a mostly normal-world modern setting, but obviously with monsters/fantasy creatures and such. Things plot-related happen almost the same way, but some stuff is earlier/later, shuffled around to work for my own purposes (so some of the key moments still happen, but occasionally in a different order). Here is the beginning, which as always, starts with two morons asking a big question-

“Hey?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever wonder why we’re here?”

“Well, that’s one of life’s great mysteries, isn’t it?”

The two men were standing on the rooftop of an old warehouse. The building had gone through several owners, being used as a storage facility, a garage for fixing up cars and various vehicles, a shipping business, a veterinary clinic for large animals and livestock, a recycling center… and possibly some kind of drug lab at one point. It was none of these now, but if a stranger saw the inside, they would assume the new owner was a combination a mechanic/pet doctor, using the left-behind equipment (and considering how shady everything appeared, a stranger would also probably assume this was a front for yet another drug lab). It was still none of these things. In truth, it was much stranger.

One man stood slouching with the late-afternoon sun on his back. The other was leaning against a vent that came out of the roof, in the shadows. He had a red long-sleeved button-up shirt on (despite the hot temperature), and black jeans. His shirt was neatly tucked-in, and his matching red hair was trimmed short in what was decidedly a “going to a job interview” style. His eyes were two different colors. Once, they had both been a soft brown, but now one was glass, the color of the iris some kind of magenta… or maroon. The other eye (the one that was still organic) was a golden-yellow. He looked like somebody who had gone through a growth-spurt some years back, and still hadn’t settled into himself; too lanky and gawky for his own good.

His companion in the sun was a little shorter, and considerably larger, but completely at ease with his shape and his weight. His skin was mostly a warm copper brown… but he had several patches of mis-matched skin tones on his left side; around his eye, his chest, his arm, his leg. Each area also showed several scars, signifying that it was the result of surgery and skin-grafts. His dark brown hair was parted in the center, falling down around his shoulders in long curls, and stubble on his chin. His eyes were so dark, they almost looked black. He wore an old faded baseball shirt (once white with orange on the collar and short sleeves, now a dingy-peachy color), and loose gray jeans that were worn-out at the knees. They were quite the odd pair, opposites in many ways that were obvious (and more that were evident in their interactions), yet it was clear they were used to each other’s company.

“Why ARE we here?” the man in the sun continued, answering the question from his friend in the shadows. “I mean, are we the product of some cosmic coincidence, or is there really a god watching everything? You know, with a plan for us and stuff. I don't know man, but it keeps me up at night…”

“WHAT?” the other man stood up a little straighter, but remained behind the vent. “I meant why are we out HERE, in broad daylight? Sarge KNOWS it’ll burn me, and there’s not even anything for us to do! The only reason he sends us out to keep watch is because there’s that building over there he thinks is haunted, but we can’t see anything from here… and if there WAS anything going on over there, like ghosts or whatever, they could definitely see US! We don’t have any cover on the roof, but whoever might be over THERE is hidden behind the windows!”

“Oh… uh, yeah…”

“What was all that stuff about god?”

“Nothing,”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,”

They both decided to just skip it, and move on.

“But seriously, why ARE we out here, and why does Sarge care about that building so much?” the taller man waved his arm, gesturing to the building in question.

“I guess he wants to try catching ghosts next, or something?” the shorter man shrugged.

“Then we should just GO OVER THERE, right?”

“Pfff… nah, are you kidding? Just standing around, looking at a building? This is the easiest job I ever had,” he sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Grif, you- OK, first of all! This isn’t a JOB, we aren’t getting paid! Second, you don’t even remember most of your life before a few months ago, you have no basis of comparison!”

“Fair point, but come on Simmons… seriously? What job could I have possibly had that would be easier than this?”

From his spot in the shadows, Simmons looked away for a moment, thinking.

“Hmm… well, I remember reading about people being paid to take part in sleep studies. You just nap and keep a dream journal, or whatever…”

“Oh man, are you kidding!? I WISH that was my life!” Grif kicked at an old rusty can, causing it to fall off the roof. “Instead, here I am, stuck in this stupid building, in this stupid town, in this stupid canyon-”

“Where we have to look at a potentially haunted building, at random intervals, day and night…” Simmons added.

“All because Scruffy the Vampire Slayer is paranoid!”

Despite himself, this caused Simmons to snort laughter. Grif grinned, pleased that his pun was appreciated.

“Even if that building IS haunted… it doesn’t seem like something bad, you know? I never see anybody running out of there screaming bloody murder. If we just ignored it, what would happen? Nothing. It would just be a boring building with boring ghosts, and we’d just be another boring building with boring… whatever we are,” Simmons leaned once more on the vent, glaring up at the sky that was still dangerously bright.

“I think monsters sums us up pretty good,” Griff suggested.

“Right, monsters who don’t do anything. Over there are ghosts who don’t do anything. Whoopty-fucking-doo…”

“You gonna actually SAY that to Sarge? Hmm? Gonna finally stand up to him, use your big-boy voice, and tell the crazy old man you don’t wanna follow orders anymore? Is this beginning of your rebellious phase?” Grif reached over, shoving Simmons lightly on the arm.

“Well… no… but! I’m gonna remind him that me being outside in the day is a bad idea! YOU should get the day shift, and I should get the night shift. It just makes sense,”

“Aww, but Simmons… then we wouldn’t get to spend quality time together, having all these deep and meaningful conversations!” Grif gave him a look of fake-concern, like he was hurt and might start crying.

“Oh, right. I forgot. We’re philosophers discussing the secrets of the universe, life’s great mysteries, right?” Simmons smirked.

“Exactly… like, if you could only taste one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be? No matter what you ate, it has the same flavor?” Grif asked.

“That’s a stupid question for a vampire, man. Everything I eat DOES have the same flavor now. It all tastes like blood, because guess what? I have to drink blood. Because I’m a VAMPIRE,” Simmons shook his head.

“No, but I mean, if you could magically taste something ELSE, whether you were drinking blood or eating a salad, or whatever, what would you pick?” Grif pressed on. “I’d want everything to taste like chocolate. Milk chocolate. That’s my favorite, and I’d never get sick of it…”

“Jeez… it would’ve been impossible to get you to chill out if you tasted chocolate every time you tried to eat a person!” Simmons replied, remembering how it had been with Grif when they first found him.

“Yeah, I don’t know what those other zombies were on about… brains and human flesh is GROSS. Chocolate, though? MMM, I could do the zombie-shuffle-walk for days to get some good chocolate,”

“Uh-huh, and  that’s EXACTLY how we caught you!” Simmons almost reached out to return the arm-punch, but managed to hesitate and stop in time… Grif was still in direct sunlight, and Simmons would get scorched if he left his little patch of shadow. Grif seemed to realize this, in that quiet and easy way that caused both of them to somehow pick-up each other’s habits. Grif leaned over to nudge Simmons with his shoulder, and they both laughed together.

[chunhua-s]

im gonna CRY, this is like the 3rd time im sending this: OKAY-- ushijima <33 and a royalty au maybe? whether he's the loyal knight or loving king, i will take anything <33 ily davi ur so cool and btw ur handwriting is SEXC

i’m putting the note at the end because really? they clog a lot of space 🧍🏽‍♀️

YOURS ➽ WAKATOSHI USHIJIMA X READER

genre: angst

au: royalty, time travel

warnings: uh nothing went as i planned for in this oneshot and i’ve hurt myself with it enough to the point of a headache :D

when you open your eyes, you’re greeted by the night sky, though there’s something about it that gives you pause. the stars above you aren’t the same ones from your city — the ones that could only hope to shine against thousands of bright lights. the stars above you are brilliant in their light, loud with a declaration of glory and untold miracles that flow across the darkest purples and blues of midnight in rivers of silver. they’re radiant, telling you stories of worlds far beyond what you could ever dream of, and they draw your breath on frost and smoke as it falls from your lips. and should you have asked yourself — where does venus hide among this canvas of light, where does her red outshine the bursts of silver, the trails of gold that glow brighter than the sun, you’d never find your answer.

“(y/n)?”

it’s hard for you, but you manage to pull your eyes away from the night sky, and when you allow them to return themselves to the earth, your breath escapes you once more.

he’s standing amidst an old garden, his face familiar while being like that of a stranger. under the moonlight, you wonder if he’s an apparition, merely a figment of your imagination that approaches you with slow, almost cautious steps. he calls your name again and his voice carries to you on a chilling wind, it ghosts across your skin and fills up your lungs with the oxygen you’d forgotten to take. olive eyes glisten like deep ponds when he finally stands before you, and as you seek out your voice to respond to him, you find that it’s lost its strength.

“ushi-... ushijima?”

and truly, the face that you see before you is that of wakatoshi ushijima. his hair, the shape of his face, and even his lips that now twist into something of a helpless smile. here is the man who you’ve worked with for so long as the dietitian of japan’s national volleyball team; the man who you watched grow through high school, whose transformation reminded you of a cosmos flower in autumn; the man whose smiles told of secrets shared on late phone calls and a voice as calm as the ocean waves at night.

and yet, there’s nothing here of that man you know.

the wakatoshi ushijima you see carries the same regality that he always does, the same grace and silent power that flows from him just as the maroon cotton flutters around his body like waves. he’s always been the perfect picture of royalty, you consider, but here, with assured steps and a certain hush to the normally domineering force he exudes on the court, he really does appear to you like an emperor.

he chuckles lightly, a deep sound that rumbles in his chest and travels through your entire being as his eyes search your expression. there’s something that glistens on starlight, a certain warmth that you’ve yearned for on your loneliest nights, when his gentle words would pull you into deep slumber. does he see the way your brows furrow, the way your lips part with questions you don’t even know the beginnings to? “i thought i told you to call me wakatoshi, didn’t i?” he whispers, his tone soft and gentle, careful just as the hand that reaches up to cup your cheek. your heart stutters under the brushes of his thumb, and you’re sure that he can feel the heat spreading across your skin. “what are you doing out so late? and barefoot, nonetheless.”

he’s right. your feet sink beneath blades of grass as if they would be embraced by them, drops of dew clinging to your skin and causing a chill to travel up your spine. looking into ushijima’s eyes, you have no answer — neither for his question, nor for this strange situation you’ve found yourself in.

with concern melting into his warm gaze, he studies you for a while longer, the thumb that had been rubbing circles into your cheek coming to a stop as he ever so slightly tilts your head back to meet his gaze. at the same time, he’s leaning his head forward ever so slightly, as if to meet you half way. “(y/n)?”

“i—” your words fall short, disappearing under the night air when you try and speak. your eyes fall from his patient gaze, and all your attention is given to the green grass that, beneath the starlight, gives itself to a colour you can’t find the name for. this, you’ve decided, isn’t your world. it can’t be — the stars don’t shine as brightly as they do here, and neither does the air encompass you as if it yearned to kiss your skin. and in your world, wakatoshi ushijima has never held you so gently, and his eyes don’t sing to you poems of a feeling lost on your wildest fantasies. you force air into your lungs when you meet olive hues and try your best to speak with a wavering voice. “ushijima, what’s going on?? i don’t— where are we?”

you see confusion etch lines around his lips and between his brows as he frowns. “what do you mean? we’re in the palace garden, of course.” he says it so assuredly, confident, yet his words are hushed in a secret shared by the both of you. and the way he looks at you, you feel terrible for not knowing that secret. it feels as if somehow, you’d betrayed something sacred by taking the face and name of someone he might hold dear — maybe in this world, in this time, there’s a you who knows ushijima’s love.

“i’m sorry...” you mutter out, guilt and shame unwarranted yet potent behind your words as your eyes lock with his. “i think there’s been some sort of mistake. i’m—” you force yourself to swallow, to breathe; you find that the task comes difficult and your body betrays you terribly. “i don’t think i’m the person who you think i am.”

ushijima’s gaze falters, the hand that had so lovingly warmed your face falls to your shoulder and his fingers grab on to you tightly. “what do you mean...?” there’s a bit of a broken laugh that bubbles from his lips, and to you, it’s as foreign as the night sky above you, because there has never been a time when you’d ever seen him so vulnerable, open, pained. it’s new, and it scares you. it makes you want to wrap him into your arms and to take back everything you’ve said, to selfishly become the person he sees in you — the you whom he loves and cherishes so dearly. “you’re you, aren’t you? you’re (y/n)... my (y/n).”

you shake your head weakly, tears lining your eyes as feelings you’d long since fought against begin to spill from your aching heart like rain. every i love you that you’ve ever whispered to your starless sky burns your skin and sets an unbearable fire alight inside your chest, and the smoke clouds your brain and makes you forget your reality. my (y/n), he’d said — he’d called you his, his (y/n), with all the certainty and confidence in the world, as if those words should stand as true as the moon should shine at night, and oh, how desperately you wished they were true. you wished with all your heart that you really were his. but to look into his eyes, so hopeful, so loving and so, so beautiful in the starlight, you can’t find it within yourself to lie. not to him, and not to yourself. and so you steel your heart and abandon those feelings, and you lift your hand to pull his away from your shoulder, ignoring the pain that could blind you from its intensity. “i’m sorry...” you whisper, and this time, the hushed words bring no secrets, no sweet affections or longings told when the night showers your bodies in silver. it tears you apart and leaves your wounds to fester. “i’m really sorry, but— but i’m not them...”

“i’m not your (y/n).”

chile im so sorry this took so long!! and uh.... see i originally started this oneshot with a cute idea in mind??? but 🤡 somehow it turned into angst and uh.... but anyways!! i had these two requests and i thought “hey, why not combine them!” and it was the perfect opportunity to push my emperor! ushijima agenda 🤩 well.... that was the original intent? but somehow i got sidetracked.... again.... and didn’t really focus on that 😗 in summary? nothing went as i planned for this oneshot and somehow i ended up with a short angst oneshot that could work for an entire plot. like deadass?? i have the whole thing planned out in my head already and i was tempted to go off on it but it would become too long and i wouldn’t have a resolution for it all... or at least not one that didn’t involve pain. so, basically, reader in emperor! ushi’s world would have been like a palace worker who grew up with toshi, and they’d have fallen in love, but it’s ✨forbidden✨ because toshi would have already had his s/o chosen for him. on the flip side, modern world reader is team japan’s nutritionist and they, similarly grew up with toshi, but they have feelings for him that they don’t ever let show because they’re worried that they would destroy what they have with him already. if i went on with the plot, it would have shown reader going about palace life and their interactions with toshi, along with a handful of challenges that they’d have to face. this idea was highly inspired by one of my favourite k-dramas, scarlet heart ryou (a really good watch i def recommend it) but yeah! that’s the end of my rant! (it’s not. i’m stopping myself because if i don’t i’ll never shut up about it.) but anyways!! i really hope you guys enjoyed this oneshot! it feels good to write something after a while — if any of you guys have any thoughts or anything i’d love to hear them!!

taglist: @aiiishiiiteru @tsumue @bootylikepeachy @waitforitillwritemywayout @mixxfi @shnnn @janellion

send an ask to be added or removed!!

[octania]

Midnight guardian (Dabi x Reader 18+) (END)

This is the last (end) chapter from Midnight series.

Chapter 1- Midnight stalker

Chapter 2- Midnight hunter

Chapter 3- Midnight shadow

Word count: 5.5 k

Warnings: NSFW, smut, violence, blood, kidnapping, domination (Dabi is a dom), rough play, spanking, insulting, rough sex.

Short description: If you drive a wild beast into a corner, it will surely bite. But what if you didn’t intend to threaten it but help it instead? What if you could withstand that bite, would the result be worth that effort? You walked into the lair of villains for that bite, and the reward you received for your bravery, you could only dream of.

______________________________________________________

Now it was clear to you how you knew that voice and for a second you wished you had never heard it. The gray hand, as if there were no drops of blood in it, settled on the face of the white-haired villain. You didn't have to see his features to know who he was. Shigaraki, the leader of The League of Villains. The woman holding you on your knees, stroking your cheek with the cold blade of a knife, was Toga. You shuddered when you remembered her preferences and enthusiasm for the bloodshed. The person at the bar who casually polished the crystal glass was Kurogiri, and the man filled with adrenaline, who was now bending down to your face and mumbling something under his breath, was Twice.

"She looks so familiar ... but I'll be damned if I remember from where ..." - he said without stopping to get in your face. You felt the cold metal of the knife drag over your cheek to your ear, moving strands of hair that fell to your face.

„Maybe it is because she is hiding under that pretty hair of hers ... but if I cut her, I can take her shape and we can have a better look! Doesn't that sound so fun!! ”- Toga leaned over your shoulder. You jerked instinctively, but the grip on your shoulder only got stronger.

"You don't seem like you want to play ..." - her voice became darker, more impatient, and the blade was now pressed with the tip into your back.

"Enough ... I want to know why she's here. You'll play with her if she doesn't answer my question. ”Shogaraki commanded in a calm voice, not even turning to you. He kept his elbows on the bar, playing with some kind of cards with one hand.

"Don't make me ask you obvious questions ... it annoys me ... you'd better tell me yourself who you are and who sent you here." he said, tossing the card in front of him.

“N-no one. This is a mistake. I was just..just walking by. ”- couldn't you really think of anything better? You cursed yourself at the uncreative answer you gave him. Now if you start correcting yourself, it will look even worse. You could feel your response hit Shigaraki's first nerve.

 "You didn't ask who we were..that means you know about us." - he began, slowly turning to you on the bar stool."Anyone that knows about us and it is just walking by, and if he is sane ... would never stop to eavesdrop on our conversation. Unless, they were looking for us in the first place. ” - he tilted his head, and Toga pulled your hair, forcing you to raise your head higher.

“You look very sane..so it must be the other part. I must admit, I am disgusted how the police and heroes send such ... weak scouts to search for us. And they say that value life .. ”- something like laughter could be heard under the hand that covered his mouth. "If they did, they wouldn't sacrifice their people like this ... so easily." – you felt pain in your ears from Toga’s unpleasant laugh. The blade pierced through the light summer dress you were wearing, now sinking slowly into the flesh. The sound of pain escaped your lips.

"Nothing can beat a nice whiskey and the sounds of someone's painful cries in this midnight hour." - Another familiar voice reached your ear canal, but this time, you knew exactly who it belonged to. You turned your head as far as Toga's grip allowed, to find the source of the voice. You could make out the shape of a man's body with the corner of your eye. Very quickly the scene became clearer to you. The wide muscular back hidden under the white T-shirt moved toward the bar. His black haired head tilted back, not even looking at you. Dabi.

He carelessly turned to the inside of the bar, ignored Kurogiri’s warning not to step on that side, and retrieved a bottle of whiskey from the higher shelves.

“Relax, I am just making your job easier. You don’t have to serve me plus I won’t even dirty one of your precious glasses. I will even take the paper coaster so I don’t ruin your tables, maid. ” he took a paper coaster, he winked and continued in a mocking voice as he opened a bottle of whiskey, pressing it to his lips. He took a couple of big sips, only then turning in your direction. His tight grip around the bottle almost completely loosened, making the bottle almost fall from his hands. The arrogant grin had left his lips, and his eyes were barely restrained from widening completely from the shock. The panic was unfamiliar to him, but the feeling quickly let him know it was there. He managed to restrain the sudden reactions. He stared at you for a few seconds, barely taking his eyes off you, before it became too obvious that something was wrong.

"What is this?" - he did his best to sound as natural as possible, but his body was slowly tensing.

“What does it look like? We got a gift from the police force ... ”Shigaraki replied, seemingly irritated. He stood up and took a few steps toward you, opening his palm and pointing it toward your face.

“Let’s return the favor, but with a little alteration.” - his sinister voice made the blood in your veins froze. You pushed yourself backwards with your knees, trying to get back from his hand. Your eyes watered, fear and panic permeated you more and more, as you watched helplessly as the hand that could have turned you into a rotten corpse came closer and closer. You cast a desperate glance at the person you found yourself in this situation for, instinctively almost uttering his name.

"Wasting an opportunity like this is moronic ... even for you Tomura." - without waiting for an answer, Dabi found himself next to Shigaraki.

 "I thought leaders should have bigger brains ..." he continued. Shigraraki clenched his fists, barely restraining himself from turning around and grabbing Dabi with his quirk. He did not intend to suffer insults.

“You want to join her? You would be a nice rotten bow on top on her decayed body as a present. The heroes would love the sight of that ... and so would I. ”- Shigaraki threatening gaze met Dabis icy eyes. Wild tensions could be felt, the smell of the impending bloody fight to the death. But Dabi made a completely different move. A casual smile dawned on his face.

"For someone who plots shit all the time, I would expect you to see the value in this present sent to us." - he squatted in front of you, as you stared at him with tears in your eyes.

“D ..” - you almost said  his name, but the rough surface of the paper coaster that Dabi shoved in your mouth silenced you on time. His fingers pushed the paper thing deeper into your mouth, gagging you with it. He pulled his fingers out, staring you down, while his other hand reached for your jaw, squeezing it without mercy. His gaze was blank, warning.

"Killing her without getting any information out of her or at least using her as bait is wasteful." He said as he put his hand on your back, grabbing you by the collar of your dress. He pulled you without difficulty, pushing Toga off your back and forcing you to lean on your feet.

"This is the girl that was on the news ... the one that they failed to protect and got those scum of the heroes killed. Don’t you think it would be a real social disaster if it turns out they failed again?"- he said, pushing the tip of a bottle of whiskey into your chin with the intention of raising your head so that everyone could take a good look at you.

 "Yeah! You are right! I knew I saw here somewhere before! ”- Twice shouted, snapping his fingers.Expression on the Tomura’s face under the hand got suspicious.

 "Really? As I recall, you were close to that shit storm yourself that night Dabi. What a coincidence, wouldn’t you say? ”- He said in a voice bathed in sarcasm.

“I told you already. I was following Endeavor as we planned. ”- he lied, holding a firm and threatening expression on his face, on which one could easily read that doubting him brought him to the edge.

"Yeah ... sure," Shiaraki replied through gritted teeth, not giving the impression that he fully believed Dabi's words.A minute of uneasy silence and tension passed before Tomura finally shrugged and turned her back toward the bar.

 “We shall use her then. Get her to sing before we return her ashes to the heroes, showing how they failed to protect the bitch, again. ”- he waved his hand disinterestedly. Toga jumped up, raising her hand as if reporting for duty.

"I can play with her!" - there was excitement in her voice, but before she got the boss's approval, Dabi pulled you closer to him. "He said ashes you psycho, not blood." - he pointed out, smiling now from ear to ear.

“Besides, I have a strong feeling I need to prove my loyalty to Shigaraki, so let me show him just how much loyalty I carry inside.” - something dark and ominous was in his words, making you shiver while he pushed you to start walking to the door that led to the other side of the building where they had their rooms.Before you left, you heard a muffled growl behind you, accompanied by a low yelp. You paused for a second. You looked over your shoulder. You could see his clenched jaw and you could see him moving his free hand. A movement that looked like  he is pulling something out of his lower back. After a couple of seconds, there was a sound of metal falling to the floor. You looked down. A knife, Toga's knife, dripping with blood.

"That's for taking my toys." she said.

You could barely stand on your feet after he abruptly pushed you into a room that looked like a warehouse. A pile of cluttered old things piled up at the corners. You almost fell after old blankets got tangled under your feet as he pushed you. The sound of the door closing with a loud smash echoed the room. You turned around, only to find yourself face to face with the enraged man you had decided to look for. You were confused, but you didn't expect to see this kind of rage on his face after he apparently saved you from certain death from his colleagues. Without warning, he grabbed you by the shoulder without restraining his strength. His fingers sank into your soft skin, and you could feel the bruise already forming. A slight sob escaped your gagged mouth.

 "You think that hurts doll?" He hissed through his teeth, leaning over you. He covered you completely, he was quite taller than you and his broad muscular torso seemed giant compared to your small figure. He grabbed you by the lower thigh with his free hand.

"Then this is going to be much worse if you don't plan on being honest." - Anger radiated through his body, the tone of his voice was cold and sharp as a spear. A scream of pain came from the depths of your throat, barely muffled by the paper that had been shoved into your mouth when Dabi released his flame onto the skin of your thigh. After a few seconds, the flames receded, but he did not move his hand.

 “You are one of them, aren’t you ?! That fake heroes, that lying scum of the earth! They sent you, thinking that is such a clever move! Well this time it is game over, do you hear me ?! ”he roared, entering your face. Electric blue eyes aimed into the depths of your soul.

 “Let me guess, it’s some kind of ambush. There are here, close… and you are the living bait. I hope it was worth it, doll. The only reason I didn't let Shigaraki turn you into a rotting mess is because I wanted to do the job myself, to show you what happens when you try to fuck with someone like me. ”- the flame licked your skin again, forcing and to a new muffled scream. You barely retained consciousness because of the pain that you were feeling.

“Because I am capable of anything and everything. Now let us see, will you have the decency to make your few last words the truth. ” - he suppressed the flames, pushing his fingers into your mouth to take the paper out. You coughed, spitting pieces of melted paper. Tears blurred your gaze, but you raised your head, looking in the direction of his waist.

 “Are..are you alright? You are bleeding… let me help you. ”- you whispered under your breath looking at the white T-shirt soaked in fresh blood. The wound he had received from Toga's knife had not stopped bleeding, but he had forgotten it for a moment. His lips parted in a thin line, and his eyes widened in shock. He didn't know what to say, his thoughts lost. You ask him if he's okay after he hurt you and threatened to finish you off? And your eyes… that look again. The lack, or rather, the total deficiency of experience with this type of person made him react defensively. He knew no other way.

 “Cut the bullshit!” He shouted once more, but you ignored him, tried to reach out to him, intending to look at the wound. Your plan resulted in his abrupt withdrawal to avoid your touch. He grabbed your wrists, raising your arms to the height of his shoulders. He almost lifted you from the ground, you were now standing on your toes.

 “Why did you come here ?! Answer me! ”- you could feel his warm breath that smelled of whiskey, because of how close he was to you. Your whole body ached, but you kept a gentle look, you know why you came here. Well, at least you thought you knew.

 "I came because… I wanted to ask you a question." - you were aware of how stupid this answer was, and his facial expression confirmed your suspicion.

“You came here… in the fucking lair of villains to ask me… a question?” - he uttered the sentence in syllables still in disbelief. Your cheeks took on a gentle shade of red out of shame because the  stupid move you made was just so obviously…stupid.

 "Yes. "- you whispered. This if it wasn’t so tragic would be ridiculous. And it was for him, just for a moment. White teeth protruded from under his lips as he laughed briefly.

This girl…

“Then ask. I really want to hear the worth-risking-your-life question. ”- he said in a slightly softer tone, but bathed in sarcasm. The grip loosened, so you could stand on your feet normally. You buried your teeth in your lower lip, silent for a few seconds. The question you wanted to ask was forbidden and certainly a trigger for an even greater surge of rage in him.He faked his own death to keep the truth hidden. If your theory is true of course, and you will only know that if you ask a question. Curiosity burned you even in this relentless moment, but more than that the fact that you might be able to help him if you were right. Help your pursuer, yes, the common sense award this year definitely goes to you. However, something in you could not be swayed, it wanted to take this risky step forward in the hope that you would be able to save him. You felt connected to him. You let the right conclusion go through your head and you adopted it, and that was - He was that part of the darkness you so desperately wanted. The part you craved. The part that was not darkness in itself, but bore its features, but you believed… no, you knew, that inside everything was not as black as its exterior. The fear was almost completely lost for a moment after this realization.

"Are you the poor boy that was declared dead twenty years ago…" - you looked up, catching the irises that looked like broken ice. You pushed your palm toward his burned face while he still held your wrists, touching his scars with your fingertips. “… That they said died in an accident, by his own quirk ..” - you could see his gaze clouding, going distant.

 "Touya?" - it seemed as if he had fallen into prison of his own consciousness. His expression was empty, petrified. His mouth was only a millimeter open, motionless. You could not even imagine what horror and tragedy the memory of that long-forgotten and discarded name had now produced before his eyes. He could clearly see every scene that took place twenty years ago. He could see the intense blue light that hurt his eyes, but that pain was nothing compared to the one that came after. After releasing his quirk on a level he couldn’t control and all because of a monster who lived for only one thing, power. A power he could not attain on his own, and he wanted to find supremacy on someone else's back. Now, in his memory, he looked again into the relentless eyes of his so-called father, who did not even blink as his son's own flame swallowed him like a wild beast. He deafened to every scream, every call for help. He blinked, returning to the present, but the anger he had kept buried for so long was now released and traveled through every part of his body.

“You like digging for things that are none of your business… huh, (Y / N)?” - he smoldered with resentment. His fury sprang to life, as he slammed you on the wall behind you.

 “You think you had the right to look for things that don’t concern you?” - he roared as the anger continued to build up in his chest. He masked his vulnerability to himself, drowning it only deeper in rage.

 "Let us see how you like the taste of your own medicine." With his free hand he reached for the strap of your dress on your shoulder, pressing his finger on it. A blue spark appeared, burning a thin shoulder strap in a second, forcing one part of your dress to fall over your chest. You had no way to stop him from exposing your breasts, you could only silently watch the situation unfold. Sinister smile appeared on his lips, as he pulled the fabric more down, releasing one of your soft breasts. Your cheeks flushed as tears welled up in the corners of your eyes again, but you didn't fight back. You didn't even say a word, and he expected at least one pleading scream to come out of your mouth. But he did not intend to wait for your reaction, but wrapped his palm around your breast, squeezing it tightly, playing with your soft flesh without shame. He trapped your nipple between his middle finger and index finger, pinching it. A sob came from your throat.

 “How does it feel when someone touches something that does not belong to them? Do you feel violated, huh (Y / N)? Do you feel like you have been wronged? Exposed? Vulnerable? ”- he growled the words, catching your gaze, expecting to see the despair in your eyes, to see the fruit of his punishment. He was stunned once more to realize that there was not even a trace of any emotion he just mentioned. Your expression was soft, slightly embarrassed but not in the way that indicated unease, you were biting your lip, as your cheeks were dark pink. He paused, but not letting you go.

"N-no. No I don’t, Touya. ”- you moaned as you pushed yourself against the wall with all your strength, pulling your hand behind your back towards freedom. Before he could react, you grabbed the other shoulder strap of your dress, lowering it over your shoulder so that the dress would now fall all the way to your hips, uncovering the other breast. He was distracted once more, your every move was unexpected, something he couldn’t have foreseen, and that was usually one part of his job, reading people, and he was good at it. You, you were the opposite, everything that confused him and made him react instinctively, even if his reaction was wrong in the end. This time there wasn’t too much to make a mistake in judging your move. You wanted this, you wanted it. Why? Only God knows, but he would be damned if he asks another question, he was too caught up in the view in front of him. The view on your half naked body and precious expression on your face, that was glowing with the thing he was dreaming to get from you all along, consent. His palm rested on your jaw as he pushed his index finger into your mouth, running it over your soft salivary muscle with his rough finger.

“Name is Dabi, doll. You better remember the taste and shape of every latter in that name… ”- with his tongue he now followed the lines of your collarbones all the way to the other nipple.

“Because you will be saying it a lot in the next twenty minutes.” - he bit your nipple lightly, then mending the bite with the tongue. You cried out for the first time, releasing the sweet moan of pleasure that was building inside you. With his other hand he continued to play with your nipple between his fingers, twisting it and pulling, making your sensitive flesh sent electric rushes of ecstasy through your body.

“D-Dabi.” - the first defeat in saying the name he wanted, but you didn’t mind it. If this is what he wants, you will obey if the result is him opening up in the end.

“That’s it. Again. ”- he murmured the order while still sucking your delicate nipples. You answered with a few more loud moans shaping his name, and the reward was so worth it. He lowered his hand from your chest, exploring the shape of your body all the way to the end of your dress. He pushed his hand under the fabric, touching your thighs, looking for his way to your most intimate part. He could feel the heat between your legs, forcing his body to react harder. His cock was already rock hard, protesting under his jeans, demanding to be released. But not yet, he wanted to explore you a bit more with his hands. He pushed his knee between your legs, spreading them, making his way between them.The surface of his finger finally touched your already soaked panties. Satisfied grin on his face made you blush even more, as he turned his hand, patting your pussy a few times. The slow and gentile motions over the thin fabric made you shiver from anticipation, and he decided that he shared the feeling. He pushed your panties to the side, stroking you in the same manner as the few seconds before but now over your bare flesh. The slimy juices covered his fingers, as he teased your cunt with more slower pace over your gluey folds. He pushed his finger deeper, stroking your slit while his thumb found its way to your swelled clit. He made a few circle motions over it, making your fingers curl, as you reached around his shoulders, holding on him tight, burring your hand between his neck and shoulders. He refused to stop and allow you to take a break, as he pushed one finger inside of you, still teasing your sensitive pearl. You cried out in his strong shoulder. You were more than soaked, you were dripping over his fingers like crazy, as your velvet walls clutched around him. He pushed his finger deeper, exploring your cunt. And man, you were tight. More than tight. He barely managed to push his one finger all the way in, and pushing one more was almost impossible. That could only mean one thing. This was your first time. He felt excitement building in his chest, as the realization made him tilt his head up and face you. He pushed your head with his, making you look at him. Your teary eyes were half shut, as the pleasure was eating you up. He leaned more in, fixating his eyes on your lips colored like cherries. He licked your bottom lip, biting it lightly before he planted a kiss on your lips. The tender kiss quickly resolved into a euphoric making out, with the erotic dance of your tongues. He remembered how you tasted the first time he kissed you, and this was far better. Was it the mutual feeling of need in the both of you, or just the sexual tension, he was not sure, but it did not matter, he was cherishing every damn second of this. His hands retreated from your pussy, and you whined under the empty feeling between your legs. But you did not wait for long, as you heard the sound of the mental on his belt. You looked down while you were still kissing him. Your eyes widen as you saw his thick cock in his hand. It looked huge, far bigger then you could fit inside of you. Damn, he was struggling to push two fingers in you, how does he think this enormous thing is going to fit. He came closer, putting his tip on your wet folds, pushing it up and down your slit. The juices covered his tip nicely, making it slippery. You bitted your lip once again, waiting for his next move. He pushed his tip on your clit, making your knees shake before he reached down, picking you up, holding you with one hand under your tights. You were holding yourself on his shoulders, as he adjusted the pulsating dick on your tight entrance. He did not wait for long, as he started pushing in slowly, putting his now free hand on your hip to hold you still. A sharp pain of him starching you to the limit you did not think you had, made you cry out as a tear fell from the corner of your eye.

“Shhh baby doll, you are doing so well.”- he whispered in a husky voice, not stopping not even for a moment so your inner walls can get used to the shape. He kept going, as his dick twitched inside of you from pleasure. He was just half in and you felt dizzy from the pain that went through your lower parts, but a quick stings of enjoyment made you want more. You were euphoric, even thought it did not show. You wanted to test your own self, as you wrapped your legs around his hips, pushing yourself on him to the end. Sharp pain slammed inside of you once more, as you screamed in his chest. Your rapid breathing was loud, hard, but seeing the look on his face after you did this, made it worth every bit of the pain. He was pleased, surprised and above all, aroused like never before. So much, that he lost his mind for a moment, slamming into you without mercy, making his dick tear your insides. You screamed again, barely holding onto him as he continued to smash into you. The sounds of your dripping cunt being filled to the brim mixed with your lewd moans and screams filled the room. Like music to his ears, making him fuck you into the wall more. The slams became more violet as he went so deep he could feel his tip kissing your womb. 

“Fuck, you are taking me so well doll. My little pretty slut.”- he roared, breathing heavily but he did not slow his pace. He started biting your tits, leaving the swollen bite marks all over your chest, going for your nipples once more, sucking on them roughly. Your moans got louder , as you pushed your fingers in his hair, grabbing it and making him suck on you more.

 “You like that, don’t you? You like having your tight pussy fucked?”- he murmured around your tits, lowering his hand to massage your clit while he was slamming into you without mercy. 

“Yes! Please Dabi! More!”- you answered like a obedient whore.

“Whose is it? Say it? Who owns your needy cunt?”- he hissed, making you look at him. Your cheeks were fired up, as you could barely speak from the nasty things he was saying. They made you hot, so hot you could not think straight. Not answering him quick enough made him angry, as he flipped you with ease, pushing your bare chest on the cold wall, lifting your ass up, spreading your cheeks and pushing his throbbing cock back inside of you. But before you could once again enjoy his violent thrusts, he slapped you on the ass with his wide palm. You screamed in agony and enthusiasm, as the slaps continued, leaving the skin on your ass cheek bright red and marked with shape of his palm.

 “I asked, whose pussy is this?!”- he grabbed your hair in his hand, pulling your head back, making you meet his gaze.

“Yours! Only yours!”- you screamed as you watched the corners of his lips curl into a devilish smile.

 “Louder. Say it again!”- he ordered, slapping your overly irritated ass cheek again.

 “It is your pussy Dabi! My wet cunt belongs only to you!”- you cried out, but you saw the approval and the satisfaction on his face, as he continued to fuck you, spreading you ass cheeks more so he can reach as deep as possible. 

“That is right. You better remember it. I am your first, and only. Your last. You belong to me, (Y/N).”- he growled into your year, picking up the pace of his ruthless thrusts. He could feel your walls sucking him in, as the orgasm was near, but so was his. He pushed his hand once more to touch your over stimulated clit, pinching it. You body shivered as your climax starting kicking it, making your velvet walls suck him like never before. His dick released his thick strings of cum under hard grip of your walls, aiming straight at you womb. He filled you to the brim, making you feel the hot liquid deep inside of you. You collapsed on his chest, as he caught you with ease, like you weighed nothing at all. The thing you did not expect is that he turned you around, pulling his bloody shirt off of him, tearing the stained part off and putting the rest around your naked chest. It looked like you had a skirt and a top. He reached for the window behind you, opening it up, picking you up and pushing you through it. Panic got over you when you first thought he was going to drop you, but you soon realized there were metal stairs and metal floors. This was the  design of that old buildings that had this kind of things in case of the fire, so there would be an easy escape route. When your feet touched the metal, you turned, waiting for him to follow, but he stayed, gazing at you with an unreadable expression. You will not go without him, there is no chance you will leave him here.

 “Dabi, please.”- you said in a whiny voice, trying to hide the painful feeling building in your chest.

“Please what, doll?”- he calmly answered. Him playing dumb made you feel rage for the first time. You endured all of this, just so he can play ignorant? You clenched your fists, answering with more demand in your voice.

 “Come with me.”- you said. His raven colored hair fell on his eyes. His expression was hidden behind the shadows for a moment, but you could swear there were traces of a soft smile on his face.

“I will not come with you, doll”- he said, grabbing the window, slowly pushing it down. Before it closed you could hear his words which sounded like two things, and both of them made you shiver.

“I will come after you.”- a treat, but a promise as well.

 I would like to express my gratitude to all of you who supported me during the creation of this little series. This was supposed to be one shot, but seeing your satisfaction I couldn’t stop at one part. I hope you enjoy this last one.Thank you again for the notes, reblogs and comments, it really means more then you can imagine.