#A normal boy in unusual circumstances | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

taexual · 1 year ago

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sleepwalking ● 1 | jjk

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers / fluff / angst / smut (in later chapters)

warnings: explicit language, suggestive themes, SLOW BURN

words: 7.5k

chapter 1 ► when i open my eyes to the future, i can hear you say my name

There was virtually not a single person left on the entire fourth floor of the company building, despite it being a Monday afternoon. Normally, two other managers worked in offices adjacent to yours, so the noise in the hallways never settled below a pleasant hum: producers, promoters, and publicists – the three cursed Ps – shuffled in and out, heels clicking urgently against the marble floor.

This funeral silence was unusual, but you knew it was only a calm before the storm.

Rated Riot were going on their first-ever European tour in two days to promote their sophomore album – named aptly, “ready, set, RIOT” – and today was the final day of meetings. Evidently, the executives at Jett Records assumed that the band deserved to have a whole floor to themselves, so everyone else got a half-day, leaving you and the Floor Administrator, Rue, all by yourselves until the band got here.

This unsettling silence was exactly why you heard them arrive as soon as the door of the building opened four floors below. Rated Riot lived up to their name by making themselves heard before they were seen.

As soon as the sharp ding! of the elevator reached you in your office—your door was always open on meeting days, because the four members of one of the most promising rock bands in the world at the moment lacked any sense of direction—you could immediately feel the atmosphere lighten, the previous silence long gone.

“Rue! The apple of my eye!” Hoseok, the drummer and the de facto mood setter of Rated Riot, exclaimed as you listened to the familiar sounds of the band as they exited the elevator and, based on the repeated clicking of shoes in the lobby, momentarily got disoriented.

“Always looking good, Rue!” Jungkook, the vocalist, as well as the new Golden Boy of Jett Records followed after.

“Good to see you again,” Taehyung, the always well-mannered bassist, said. Silence followed and you assumed he shook Rue’s hand.

“Hello,” Yoongi, who was, technically, the guitarist of the band, but, really, played any instrument he could get his hands on, was the last to speak. He’d always been very well-spoken in songwriting, but quieter and more careful in most everyday conversations.

“Welcome, guys,” Rue greeted them. You couldn’t see any of them from where your office was located, but you’ve been in a similar situation countless times before and you could imagine what was happening without needing to witness it first-hand.

Rue would stand up from her seat and point her right hand down the hallway, reminding them—yet again—that they needed to walk down the hall and take a right turn. The members of Rated Riot, in turn, would walk down the hall. At least one of the four of them would turn left instead, causing a pause as the group gathered back together, exchanging confused glances. Then, they would turn back to Rue—who would still be standing there, her right hand extended like a helpful Statue of Liberty. They’d laugh at themselves, nod at Rue, and take the correct turn.

If things were going well, they’d find your office on first try—they’d just need to find the open door and peer inside; your desk was right in front. More often than not, however, they stumbled around, knocking and chuckling to themselves as they continuously interrupted the offices of everyone else, but you.

They were special. Not just because they looked like loose ducklings, separated from the Mother Duck, whenever they entered the company building, but also because, in spite of their own lack of coordination, they still managed to get things done.

And they brightened the day of everyone they came across. Which was almost ironic—as you realised by watching the four of them enter your office—considering the effortless rockstar aura that surrounded them.

Jungkook walked in first. That was typical because he usually did: sometimes because he was the only one who remembered where your office was, but usually because the other members offered him as a sacrificial lamb when they went knocking around every office on the floor in search of yours.

He was dressed in all-black—always—adorned with silver chains and necklaces that often gave you a start when you looked up, because he had a very specific way of entering the room: he seemed to make sure to position himself in just a way that the light, coming in from the window behind you, always reflected off his jewellery and momentarily blinded you.

Sure enough, you blinked, cringing into yourself as the brightness hit your eyes, and when you opened them again, he was already grinning.

“Hi,” he said and the rest of the members followed in after him—a brighter palette of colours.

Even Yoongi, who was the only one who could have given Jungkook a run for his money if you had to count which one had more black items of clothing in their closet, was wearing a beige, loosely buttoned shirt.

Despite that, however, you could tell they were rock artists as soon as you looked at them—all tattoos, piercings, intense eye make-up behind sunglasses, and old band tees—and you stood up, excited to let them know that, finally, every last loose thread had been found and tightened. They’d get to introduce their artistry on a different continent, and you’d make sure it’d go smoothly.

“We’re leaving for Prague tomorrow morning,” you told them once the five of you settled down at the round table in the back of your office. “So, if you were planning a going away party, I strongly advise against it.”

“We weren’t,” Yoongi said, lifting his glass of lemon water—there was a jug on the table—and giving you a reassuring look. “This is the strongest drink I’m having tonight.”

“Thanks,” you said paradoxically enough, but being grateful when the members of the band you managed didn’t get drunk before an important day was part of the job. “I’d also appreciate it if—”

“Hold on a second, though,” Jungkook interrupted—you’d been anticipating it. “I’m going to a gig tonight, Reconnaissance are in town again. And there’s obviously an after-party—”

Despite Reconnaissance being, arguably, one of the most popular rock bands in the world right now, you were definite when you cut him off, “No.”

“—so, I—wait. No?” he paused. “I never miss their shows, you know that. And I don’t get drunk easily. You know that, too.”

“That’s why you drink so much,” you rebutted. The rest of the band members got their phones out, knowing well enough at this point that this would take a while. “And then I have to come get you out of trouble.”

“You absolutely do not have to do that,” Jungkook insisted. “We’ve been through this.”

“Have we?” you argued. “Because I keep telling you it’s my job to keep you from passing out in a dirty bar bathroom, but you don’t care enough to hear me.”

“Well, you’re not very convincing. What’s the worst that can happen? I’ll wake up again.”

You were used to having this conversation with him—you’ve argued about this way before he became a singer and you ended up as his manager. And yet, the lax way he said this made you clench your fists.

Despite being mostly introverted, Jungkook did enjoy getting drinks with friends: even if said friends enjoyed his celebrity status more than they enjoyed the drinks.

“And if you don’t?” you threatened. “Rated Riot’s vocalist gets his stomach pumped. A catchy headline.”

“Yeah, man,” Hoseok interjected, putting his phone screen down on the table and crossing his arms. “Doesn’t go well with the vibe we’re going for. Don’t get your stomach pumped.”

“Fine, I—”

“What he meant was, don’t drink so much that you’d need your stomach pumped,” you clarified because Jungkook moonlighted as a Loophole Finder.

“I never have!” he insisted. “Seriously, you treat me like I’m still nineteen. Have some faith.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the other members of the group look up from their phones. The band had only formed a few years ago, so you were the only person in this room who knew what Jungkook was like when he was nineteen. You never spoke about it – that was likely why everyone was so curious.

In any case, Jungkook was wrong. You did have faith—that’s why you spent so many of your off-duty nights driving down deserted streets to pick him up after his asshole friends convinced him it was a good idea to try the biker bar on the outskirts of town, and he’d gotten in an altercation with a burly redneck that was twice his size.

There was no time for that now, not when he was supposed to be on stage in Prague in three days.

“Well,” Taehyung spoke up. “I was thinking of going to the show as well. Not so much the after-party, I have better plans. But, uh, I could come, after all.”

You appreciated the offer, but you knew that these better plans involved him spending time with his girlfriend, Luna, who was going to join him for a few weeks of the European tour, but after that, the two of them were going to be apart for several months.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” you said, not trying very much to hide the hopeful undertones in your voice. Jungkook’s friends felt intimidated by all the members of Rated Riot; they’d be on their best behaviour if Taehyung was there.

“No, I think it might be fun,” Taehyung said. You exhaled quietly and he could sense your gratitude without words. He turned to his younger bandmate. “Should we go together?”

Jungkook groaned and mumbled under his breath, “not if I have to third-wheel again.”

“When have you ever third-wheeled anyone?” you asked rhetorically, but he was already opening his mouth to reply. Quickly, you added, “be careful, is what I’m saying, okay? I am complaining about having to pick you up from all kinds of holes, but if you need me to bring NDAs, I will bring them. So, ask.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, but chose to stay quiet. He knew better now – the one time he did not make anyone sign a non-disclosure agreement after an impromptu, drunken busking session in New York, pictures of him, half-dressed and giving a lap dance to a random, equally as drunk, groupie, were on every rock page on Instagram. Accompanied with detailed retellings of how it came to happen, of course; all of them more ridiculous than the next. Your personal favourite story was that he was recruiting members for a sex cult.

“We’ll call you,” Taehyung gave you a nod, “if we have to.”

“Perfect,” you said, glancing at Jungkook again, even though expecting him to confirm that he, too, would call you if he had to, was wishful thinking.

Every time you reminded him how he needed to start going out with a less destructive crowd, he’d treat his phone like a poisonous snake – and he’d been doing that even before you became his manager. His friends seemed to get their pleasure fix from watching you arrive and rip him a new one, so they were the ones who called you most of the time, always laughing into their phones like true accomplices.

It was funny how Jungkook was the only one who passed out or got so wasted, he ended up on a ferry to Martha’s Vineyard. His friends always walked away unscathed and, usually, only called you by the time they were back in their bedrooms – “when we left, he was ordering mint and honey daiquiris, you should probably go over there and check up on him.”

It was like they loved pushing him into danger and purposefully bringing the two of you together again, and Jungkook either didn’t realise or didn’t care anymore. It’s been a while, after all.

You and Jungkook had been broken up for almost two years when you got the unbelievable offer to manage an up-and-coming rock band. This was over two years ago now and you were only twenty-four back then. Up until that point, you had worked as an assistant manager for various indie artists, so that offer was massive.

You figured the downside that your ex-boyfriend happened to be in this particular band was worth it, considering the huge leap in your career you’d make by accepting this job.

And, for the most part (excluding the first two months that were pure chaos of repressed feelings), you and Jungkook both made this work, drawing a strict line between your relationship before Rated Riot (back when he still had your phone number saved as “❌”) and after he met you again as Rated Riot’s new manager (ironically, now your name on his phone was “❌❌❌”).

You’ve managed Rated Riot for almost exactly two years now, and if you’d asked the band – which you wouldn’t, partially out of humbleness, but also because you were scared – you’d know that they loved working with you as much as you loved working with them. So, in the end, it all really had been worth it.

“Check your emails for the descriptive itineraries,” you continued smoothly enough. The guys at the table put their phones down and returned their attention to you. “Now, who else is coming with us?”

Technically, the band wasn’t supposed to bring anyone – the label was explicitly clear about that. They wanted the first European tour to go “without a hitch” (meaning, without distractions), but you held a more liberal view here.

You didn’t think loved ones coming on the road were a distraction; if anything, they were a firm support mechanism that made touring easier for the artists.

“I know Luna’s staying until the Barcelona show, yeah?” you asked, double-checking the notes on your laptop.

Taehyung nodded, a small smile on his lips at the mention of the girl. “She flies out the next day, yeah.”

“Okay. Who else?”

“Well, Sid and Jude are coming,” Jungkook spoke up and, after seeing your eyes roll back, added, quieter, “and Minjun isn’t sure.”

The three musketeer-wannabes – Sid, Jude, and Minjun – were on speed dial on your work and personal phones, because if Rated Riot had a performance and the vocalist wasn’t there, it was likely those three who were to blame. They were the only ones who knew Jungkook longer than you did, and they seemed to take pride in the fact that they had successfully been causing you headaches for seven years now.

“Sid and Jude,” you repeated, “aren’t worried they’ll lose their jobs if they travel to Europe abruptly?”

“No, they’re cool,” Jungkook shrugged, not catching the mockery in your voice—both Sid and Jude worked for their families, which really meant that they got paid to occasionally show up at the shareholders’ meetings on behalf of their parents. “I’ll text Minjun right now. Maybe he’ll come when we’re in Poland…”

“I needed confirmation by last week,” you reminded him. “At the latest.”

He glanced at you from his phone and then went back to texting. “So, why’d you ask now?”

“To double-check,” you said. “They’re going to have to book the hotels themselves. Or sleep on the street. Honestly, I don’t really—”

“So, uh,” Yoongi interrupted before another argument could begin, “how many hotels this time?”

“Prague, Amsterdam, and Paris. And some nights in London, depending on our flight time,” you said with an apologetic smile. “Bring your favourite blankets. We’re living on buses for the next three months.”

None of them minded – if anything, you could see a little glitter in their eyes as they listened to you. Being on the road and having to sleep on the tour bus every night was an experience they’d missed. They hadn’t gone on an actual tour in almost a year – as someone who thrived on live performances, they had obviously missed this.

Really, you’ve missed it, too. Rated Riot may have been a riot to look after as their manager – pun fully intended – especially on tour, but they were your riot to deal with.

You liked your job and the challenges that came with it, because, in the end, you overcame most of them: starting with your previous relationship with Jungkook (no one in the band had a problem with it, and the label miraculously seemed not to know about it) and ending with your relatively young age (Jungkook was the only one who had a problem with you being his age, but he had a problem with almost everything).

Hopefully, one day you’d manage to overcome the challenge that was getting Jungkook to open his eyes and realise that the people he surrounded himself with were more groupies than his friends. But all in due time.

“If you have questions,” you said as the meeting approached its’ conclusion, “go right ahead.”

“Wake-up calls,” Yoongi said. “Any possibility of arranging those?”

You smiled – this had been traditional practice ever since you started to work with them.

“I’ll call,” you said and then remembered a particularly frustrating way in which this had backfired. You added, “and keep you on the phone until you’re out of bed.”

Back when you were an assistant manager to a different band, this had been your main task. And, you supposed, if Rated Riot had assistant managers, they’d be the ones making wake-up calls, too – however, the band had only started to live up to their potential now. Before you booked the European tour for them, Jett Records thought they barely needed one manager to begin with.

You’ve made it this far. If the tour went well, maybe you’d get to expand your team as the band gained popularity.

Jungkook felt giddy the whole night. The Reconnaissance show with Taehyung and Luna was a lot of fun, as expected—he’d seen the band five times before tonight, and they never failed to let him down.

When he arrived at the after-party, he was nearly vibrating with excitement—on top of everything, he was going on tour tomorrow and he knew he might lose his mind over it—and this was usually the time when he tended to get reckless.

He did drink a little too much to retain a completely sober mind, but he stayed true to his word and did not wander anywhere or caused any—serious—trouble. You would have said that’s because Sid and Jude weren’t with him, but Jungkook was convinced it was because he simply had great self-control when he put his mind to it.

The only place he went to after the party was his family’s house, so he could say goodbye to his grandma. She probably wouldn’t even hear him—and if she would, then she probably wouldn’t recognise him—but he couldn’t leave to Europe without saying goodbye to her.

He thought he’d take his Katana to the house, but then remembered immediately the last time he got on his motorcycle drunk – his grandma had, literally, smacked him on the back with a rolling pin, yelling about how careless he was. She didn’t say that she hit him out of concern for his safety—that was obvious—and, instead, she focused on how hard he’d worked on restoring the bike after he’d bought it; his first purchase with the money that he made off Rated Riot’s music.

“Don’t you want it to last?” she had said then. She’d been the only person who believed he could bring the bike to life, despite it not having a single properly functioning part, least of all the engine. “You worked so hard on it. Do you want to wreck it in one night?”

Tonight, however, everyone in the house was asleep when he arrived. It was quiet, so he tried to be silent as he went up the stairs to her room—and then knocked over a picture frame after his feet fumbled on the carpet in the hallway. But no one went out to check who was making the noise—which was dangerous, he realised for a brief, semi-sober second; but the house had security, so he figured they were safe from outsiders—and he gently lowered the handle on his grandma’s door, peering inside.

The room was painted in blue hues from the night light next to the bed where his grandma was sleeping. He approached—really trying to be quiet this time—and carefully pulled her comforter up, so she wouldn’t get cold, even though the room felt warm.

It was always warm here and Jungkook had to bite his lip when he realised how much he missed sitting here as a child while dozens of his cousins ran around the house and wreaked loud, childish havoc. How much he missed his grandma reading him books—never children’s stories, he always insisted she read him the thickest, most boring books he could find on her shelves, just so he could stay in her room longer, listening to her soothing voice and feeling her comforting warmth.

Sniffling quietly, he leaned closer to her and brushed a strand of white hair from her face, listening to her soft breathing as she slept, unaware of his presence.

“I’ll be back soon,” he promised in a whisper as he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. She didn’t wake. “We will talk again then.”

He knew he’d keep this promise even if she didn’t hear it, even if she didn’t remember. But leaving her room felt painful and he was far less excited now. The alcohol had begun to wear off and heaviness settled in his chest instead. This happened sometimes when he was left alone with his thoughts, especially after he visited his grandma.

He'd come back, he knew he would. But as he glanced at his grandma’s sleeping frame one more time—remembering how she hadn’t called him by his name in months; not one glint of recognition in her eyes when she’d see him—he wondered if he’d have anyone to come back to.

Surprising exactly no one, Jungkook was the only one who did not answer your wake-up call the next morning. Having foreseen this, you’d already called Hoseok, Yoongi and Taehyung – in that order, because the first two took the longest to wake up, and by that time, Taehyung was already awake on his own – and only then attempted to reach the one remaining member.

Fifteen minutes later, you were already dressed and ready to drive over to his house and personally wake him up with an icy bath in bed. And just then, your phone rang – his name as the caller’s ID.

“Look who—”

“Okay, okay,” Jungkook’s groggy voice cut you off before you could greet him with the appropriate sarcastic remark. “I’m awake. Halfway in the shower.”

“I don’t hear running water.”

He responded with a groan first, then shuffling. You waited patiently, balancing the phone on your shoulder as you unlocked the door of your apartment. Finally, you could hear the water start running on the other end of the call.

“Happy?” Jungkook asked, always the brightest of all rays of sunshine in the morning.

“Ecstatic,” you replied, equally as enthusiastically. “Sending a car to pick you up in half an hour. Don’t be late.”

“I can drive myself—”

“No driving when you’re hungover,” you said, not for the first time. “In fact, don’t even go near your Katana.”

He considered several ways to respond to you; first and foremost, defending his beloved, navy-coloured Suzuki Katana with a matte coating, custom-made leather seat covers, golden rims, purring engine, and—anyway. He ended up choosing to respond with a question, “how do you know I’m hungover?”

“I’ve known you for almost ten years,” you replied. “If you go out drinking the night before, you’ll wake up hungover.”

“Well, how do you know I drank that much last ni—?”

“Listen,” you cut him off, hoisting your suitcases over the threshold of your front door. You fixed your phone against your cheek and continued, “how about you take that shower, and we’ll resume this nice little Q&A at the airport?”

“No,” he replied and, in a purposefully exaggerated breathy voice said, “I simply can’t stop talking to you.”

“Hanging up now.”

Jungkook laughed as he listened to the beep, indicating the end of the call. Putting his phone on the side of the sink, he took his shirt off and was about to continue undressing when his phone vibrated and nearly fell off the sink.

Scrambling to catch it, he smacked it against the cupboard and exhaled in relief when he saw that the screen hadn’t cracked. He was expecting a text from you – a threat, in case he’d go back to bed – but it was actually Sid, asking for the time of his flight.

His friends were taking a separate flight out to Prague – they weren’t happy about it and neither was he, but at least they’d get to hang out in Europe eventually – and, obviously, they wanted to know what time they’d meet up and where.

He double-checked the itinerary you’d emailed him, got confused about the time zone difference and texted Sid back.

“Gonna be there the day before the show,” his text said, “jetlag. Sleep. Maybe beer? Catch u there.”

Sid was, of course, delighted to hear the mention of beer and Jungkook snickered to himself before he resumed undressing for his shower—knowing from experience that you wouldn’t be above shipping him to Prague in the cargo section on the plane if he was late to the airport.

As it turned out, for the first time in his life, Jungkook was so terribly jet-lagged, that he did not feel like doing anything – not even drinking with friends – but sleeping.

He slept through the whole layover in Paris – and, consequently, through Taehyung and Luna’s stories about the 5 minutes they got to spend in front of the Eiffel Tower before rushing back to the airport (never mind that it was about 2 AM) – as well as the flight to Prague.

He only woke up on the bus ride to the hotel when he felt something nudging his lips and opened his eyes to find an open bottle of Coca-Cola in your hands as you held it by his face.

“Did you just—” he started to say, but his voice sounded brittle, more a croak than a voice, really. He cleared his throat and tried again, “did you just wake me up by making me sniff soda?”

“It worked,” you replied, nudging the bottle at him again. “Drink. You need sugar. You didn’t eat anything on the plane here.”

“I had that bagel on the flight to Paris,” he mumbled, but sat up properly and took the bottle from you.

“That was a croissant,” you clarified. It was almost cute to see him barely awake. “And I warned you about flying with a hangover. You did this to yourself.”

“I’m fine,” he replied after taking a big gulp of coke. “Not sure which day it is, but other than that, I’m perfect. Do you have anything for headaches?”

Snickering, you nodded. “Yeah, give me a second.”

You went to fetch your carry-on bag and returned with ibuprofen, which allowed him to go back to sleep until you arrived at the hotel. The other members were also in and out of slumber, but that was their own fault. You and the other girls on this tour, which, really, only meant Luna— Taehyung’s girlfriend—and Maggie—the tour photographer—had planned ahead and taken sleeping pills as soon as the plane took off. Meanwhile, every man on this trip thought too much of himself.

By the time you arrived to the hotel and checked in, it was already lunchtime. If this had been your first time travelling with Rated Riot, you would have been beyond surprised to see what effect food had on them: they looked like they'd just returned from the most refreshing vacation in the Caribbean. Lively conversation and cheerful laughter echoed around the table – no one would have guessed that they’d just spent over 13 hours on airplanes. Their recovery was nearly always miraculous.

And, naturally, since they were feeling better, they wanted to do something as soon as the first rehearsal was over. You had far too many things to do before the show tomorrow, so you couldn’t babysit them – again, an assistant manager would have been life-saving – but you knew you’d still have to keep an eye on them.

Taehyung and Luna went sightseeing, but they were the sort who kept you updated on their adventures through pictures, which you were endlessly grateful for. There was never a reason to worry here; if you were a teacher who had to pretend not to have a favourite student, Taehyung would be the student you were pretending about.

Yoongi and Hoseok, initially, went to a record store together, but then split up – one of them returned to the hotel for a nap, and the other one went café-hopping. Those two were also fine – they usually took some members of the crew with them anyway, so you knew that in the worst-case scenario, you’d still have several people you could call to reach them.

Now Jungkook was going to meet up with Sid and Jude, both of whom had, most unfortunately, successfully landed in Prague. The Diabolical Duo would take him out drinking, you had no doubt about it – and this was where you’d have to step in with another warning. You weren’t the angry mother, dragging her children by their ears, but you felt it necessary to remind Jungkook of what was at stake if he allowed his friends to be their usual, obnoxious selves tonight.

However, you didn’t want to ask, so you had to figure out where to find them yourself. You didn’t even have to use the seven years that you’ve known them to deduce two logical, universal-for-all-assholes things: one, Jungkook’s friends wouldn’t be nearly tired enough not to want to drink. Two, they’d be too jet-lagged to look for their usual hole-in-the-wall spot that sold drinks. Therefore, they’d have to settle for the bar of the hotel.

And when you exited the elevator on the ground floor later that night, your assumption was confirmed – you could hear their laughter from where you were standing in the lobby.

You’d texted Jungkook as you arrived, hoping he’d leave his friends and come see you at the back of the bar for a minute, but unfortunately, Sid and Jude noticed you and waved you over with loud cheers.

Embarrassed as the people in booths around you began to turn to look, you swallowed and walked towards the front where Jungkook and his friends were sitting by the bar.

“Wow, it’s been so long!” Jude exclaimed as you approached. In your opinion, it wasn’t nearly long enough, but you only lifted the corners of your lips and did not comment.

“Jungkook, a moment?” you said instead.

“Let’s get you a drink!” Sid suggested as though you hadn’t spoken and extended a hand, clicking his fingers to get the bartender’s attention. “Hey! Can we get some Margaritas here?”

You cringed watching this, but, again, restrained yourself. They could behave like pricks all they wanted; it wasn’t their reputation that you had to protect. Someone else would, hopefully, teach them a lesson.

“Sure,” Jungkook said to you, sliding off the stool. He seemed sober enough to walk without any sort of waddling or stand without swaying, but you could tell by the relaxation behind his eyes, that he was already tipsy.

His friends patted him on the back and whistled as he followed you to a quieter spot in the back of the bar. He shook his head at them—but had a grin on his face, and for that alone you wanted to punch him.

“Can I count on you to take it easy?” you asked, once the two of you were out of earshot. “Not because you’ll make my job much harder if you don’t, but because you have a rehearsal tomorrow at eight, and that’s hard with the jet lag alone, but add a hangover into the mix, and—”

“I’ll be fine,” he said, but you’ve heard this song many times before. It was one of his top hits. “I’m actually tired, so I might have a few and then go straight to bed.”

“Okay,” you said, choosing to believe him, because that was easier than making him sign a contract, swearing not to wake up in a dumpster. “Can you text me when you’re back in your room? So I know you’re not lost somewhere in Prague with Dumb and Dumber.”

His lip twitched in an almost-smile at the nickname, but he resisted – a loyal friend, even if they didn’t deserve it – and gave you a nod.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll text you. And I won’t get lost.”

“Okay—” you started to say and then squinted your eyes at him, realizing. “I meant don’t go wandering the city streets while drunk.”

He snorted and placed a hand on your left shoulder. Gazing into your eyes, he enunciated very dramatically, “I will not get into trouble. Promise.”

You pursed your lips. “You’d better not.”

“I realise what that would mean, believe it or not,” he said, straightening. “Tomorrow is an important day. I’d never do anything to ruin it.”

“I know,” you said. “I trust you to make smart choices. I don’t trust them.”

You pointed at the twosome by the bar – both of them watching you like you were the entertainment of the night – and Jungkook turned to look. Sid and Jude both immediately waved at him. Jungkook waved back and, when he looked at you again, he was smiling softly.

Clearly, he genuinely enjoyed hanging out with those two. You’d never believe that there was anything about them that was bearable—let alone enjoyable—so Jungkook’s weird attachment to them had to come from some sort of weird destructive force inside of him.

“I’ll keep them in check,” he said and then, possibly prompted by the skeptical frown on your face, he felt the need to explain, “they help me relax. If it weren’t for them, I’d probably be shaking from anxiety all the time. Kind of like you are.”

He winked as he said that last part, grinning at his own wit, but you rolled your eyes in response.

“Goodnight,” you said then. “Don’t forget to text me.”

“Are you going to stay up late waiting for my text?” his tone was humorous and it stopped you from leaving.

“Hopefully not,” you said, ignoring the flirty comment that was obviously meant to rattle your composure. “But it’d do you well to remember that I can make life very difficult for you if you disobey me.”

He lifted his eyebrows at this, but did not lose the grin. “Oh? Will I get punished if I—”

“Goodnight, Jungkook,” you said again—louder—and turned away.

You glanced over your shoulder when you reached the archway leading to the lobby and caught him watching you leave—he was still beaming, but he composed himself and nodded when he caught your eye. You nodded back.

Maybe he really would be fine tonight.

And, truly, Jungkook had meant what he’d said – he couldn’t wait for tomorrow and there was nothing he’d do to ruin that. Not even if the smirking faces of his friends prompted him to laugh as soon as he returned to his seat by the bar.

“What do you want, assholes?” he asked, punching Jude on the shoulder as he walked past his friends. As soon as he sat down, leaving Sid in the middle, he took a big gulp of the beer he’d left waiting; only his third one tonight.

“We don’t want anything,” Jude said, still smirking. “What did she want? Another moral how you’re not being a good boy?”

Jungkook rolled his eyes. “No—”

“I was always curious,” Sid interrupted. “Was she like that when you dated, too? You know, always in charge?”

Even before you and Jungkook had settled into a steady enough rhythm of working with each other, neither of you spoke to others about your relationship. Not while you were dating, and not after you broke up. So, all your friends—real friends and whoever the hell Sid and Jude were—essentially knew nothing of your relationship.

And there was nothing he’d tell them now.

It’s been four years since you broke up—plenty of time to move on. Not to mention, you were both (trying to be) professionals. There was no point to bring back the past; there never had been.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Jungkook teased, managing to keep the banter going without revealing how the question irked something inside him.

“I would. That’s why I asked,” Sid replied, laughing haughtily. A few heads turned his way. Sid sounded very much like an entitled heir—or an elephant high on helium—when he laughed, especially when there was nothing funny going on. “I mean, you never talked about her to us. Was it getting rid of her that made you who you are today?”

Jude snorted, slapping Sid on the back in a half-supportive, half-warning manner. Jungkook knew that the level of your patience for his friends ranged from Sid (no patience) to Jude (case-by-case), to Minjun (bearable)—and he could see why.

“I didn’t get rid of her,” he said, an edge to his voice. “We broke up and moved on. Did you hear from Minjun?”

Sid laughed again—even louder than before; the glasses behind the bar seemed to clatter.

“Look at him, trying to change the topic!” he wheezed, looking at Jude over his shoulder.

“Leave him be, man,” Jude said and nodded at Jungkook. “So many girls around us and this dumbass is still hung up on your ex, huh?”

Jungkook finished his beer and held the liquid behind his cheeks for a second before swallowing. He caught the bartender’s eye and lifted his empty glass, indicating a refill.

“I don’t think I’m the one who’s hung up,” Sid said with a very knowing look in his eye.

Jungkook looked at him and raised his eyebrows—surprised and momentarily distracted from his drink. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you come to her as soon as she calls, like a puppy,” Sid replied. “So, you tell me.”

“I have to come when she calls,” Jungkook defended. “She’s my manager.”

“Yeah, dumbass,” Jude said, slapping Sid on the back of the head this time. “She’s his manager.”

Jungkook suddenly found himself smiling when he realised that you’d probably consider this the reason why Sid acted the way he did sometimes – permanent brain damage from Jude’s incessant slaps.

“Well, then someone,” Sid said, angrily accentuating the word—the anger was clearly directed at Jude, but the pronoun at Jungkook, “has a fucking crush on their manager.”

“I don’t have a crush—”

Sid spoke over him, “I bet you could never get her to go out with you again.”

Jungkook saw the bartender approach to pour him a drink and he heard Jude scoffing, but he could only blink, taken aback by what sounded like an accusation. “Why—why would I even—why—”

“Oh, see, see?!” Sid screeched, turning to Jude with a triumphant expression. Jude gave him a pitiful look—and looked about ready to give him a black eye, too. “He knows I’m right, it’s why he’s stuttering!”

“Dude,” Jude said slowly. “You are yelling.”

Jungkook cleared his throat, nodding at the bartender as a thank-you and then bringing his refilled glass to his lips. “And I’m not stuttering.”

“You so are, my man,” Sid taunted, patting Jungkook on the shoulder with so much force, the beer nearly spilled from the glass and from his mouth. “Your ass is so whipped, you’re going to be singing at her wedding to some random producer.”

Suddenly hyper-aware that there were several producers on tour with them right now, Jungkook put his drink down and straightened in his seat.

“I’m not fucking singing at weddings,” he said.

“Not yet,” Sid pointed out, grinning. He knew he'd gotten under his skin.

“Okay, come on now,” Jude interjected, leaning back in his seat to be able to see Jungkook. “You promised you’d sing at my wedding.”

“As if anyone would ever marry you,” came Sid’s snide.

“You shut the fuck up,” Jude snarled, but there was no malice behind his bark. “I have more chances of marrying someone than he has of marrying his manager.”

“He—oh, fuck!” Sid was about to argue, but then burst into laughter—so loud and thunderous again, that the bartender was forced to glance over at the security guards by the entrance to the bar. “That’s good! You’re so right!”

“Both of you are fucking idiots,” Jungkook spoke. The edges of his vision were red. “I could get her to go out with me again if I wanted to.”

“Oh, sure, sure,” Sid nodded, wiping invisible tears from his eyes. “Big talk.”

“Jungkook, no offense, my dude,” Jude said, leaning forwards this time. “Let him have this one. Sid may be dumber than box of rocks, but he’s got a point here. Forget about her.”

Another insinuation that had Jungkook throwing his head back in frustration.

“There’s nothing to forget!” he groaned. “What the fuck are you even talking about? I just fucking told you I moved on.”

“So why are you getting all riled up, then?” Sid smirked, more and more satisfied with each curse that he provoked out of him.

Jungkook felt even angrier, because he was getting riled up, but he had a good reason for it. He enjoyed banter as much as the next person, but he did not enjoy mockery at his own expense—especially not the kind that involved you.

He snapped back, “because you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

His friends snickered at this – convinced that his irritation only proved the point they were both making – and Jungkook clenched his jaw, annoyed.

“If anything,” he added sharply as he picked his beer up—as if that could somehow distance him from this conversation, “it’s her who’s still hung up on me.”

That was a cheap, childish defence, and everyone by the bar knew it.

“Yeah, right!” Sid cried out, but resisted from laughing again. “We’ve heard her yell at you more times than we can count. You fucking wish she was still hung up on you.”

“Okay, to be fair, Sid can probably only count to five,” Jude added—Sid finally punched him on the shoulder—as he toyed with the paper umbrella on his fourth cocktail; the Margaritas they’d ordered were long gone. “But he’s right, you know? You’d never get her to go out with you again.”

There was pity in Jude’s voice—as if he felt sorry that Jungkook lived in denial, chasing after you and convincing himself that it was only a matter of time before you’d come back to him.

This made Jungkook’s temper vile, his face red, hot, and angry. He slammed his beer back on the table, forcing some of it to spill. “Yes, I fucking would!”

Sid was hiccupping as he laughed.

“Okay, okay, listen—let’s make a proper bet,” he managed. He picked up a napkin from the bar top, then looked around for something to write on it with—not finding anything, he stood up from his seat and leaned over the bar, grabbing a pen before the bartender could notice. “$1000 says you can’t get her to go on a date with you again.”

He glanced at Jude for approval—Jude shrugged.

“I’d suggest $500,” he said. “We don’t want to rob him blind.”

Jungkook’s face remained stoic, prideful.

“Fine with me. But you have no idea what you’re getting yourselves into,” he bit.

“Oh, that’s right, he’s been awfully cocky about the whole thing, hasn’t he?” Sid spoke, addressing his rhetorical question at the bar. He wrote something on the napkin and then lifted it to show the number “4000” to Jungkook. “How about this: Jude and I each pay you $2000 if you win. But if you lose, you give us your Katana.”

Jungkook lifted his eyebrows, the sudden mention of his bike catching him off-guard. Sid came from old money, he could afford fifteen brand-new motorcycles with the change he found in his suitcase, probably.

“How is that fair?” he asked. “Do you even know how much a Suzuki costs these days? It’s not $4000, I can tell you that much.”

“Why should you care?” Sid asked, his eyes glinting with mischief. “You were so confident about winning the bet just a second ago. Scared you’ll lose after all?”

In his defence, Jungkook did hesitate for half a moment. But there was a shit-eating grin on Sid’s mouth that he wanted to wipe off more than anything else, and he downed the rest of his beer in one big gulp—a showcase of his determination.

“Not at all,” he said then. He wasn’t sure if he was lying as he said this, but he had no time to figure that out. He extended his hand at Sid. “Get your money ready.”

Here, he was putting up a front – this wasn’t about the money at all. It was more a thing of pride; they were teasing him, purposefully making fun of him—and he wanted to prove them wrong, regardless if they were actually wrong.

Smirking, Sid shook his hand—cementing the bet between all three of them, as Jude was busy finishing off his cocktail—and was about to say something when Jungkook jumped off his stool.

“Have to go now,” he said, always a show-off with his overly creative comebacks when he was tipsy. “My horoscope predicts a date and a big fortune in my near future. Got to prepare.”

chapter title credits: sleep token, “rain”

special shout-out & thank you to @eleni-cherie who delivered the much-appreciated kicks in the ass, so that i would keep writing. the odds were really against me, so if it weren't for you & our in-depth fanfic discussions, i definitely wouldn't even be writing this note right now, let alone finally starting this story 💜

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k-nayee · 2 months ago

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Ghost Town BNHA

wc: 2.8k a/n: Song Inspiration: Ghost Town by Benson Boone; recommend you listen while reading!!

Traveler M.List

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

You fill me up 'til you're empty...

The late afternoon sun casted a warmth over school grounds as you chatted with Uraraka and Midoriya.

It was nice as the three of you walked together; even the greenette, who usually had a hard time speaking to girls, laughed along with your teasing comments.

Bakugo stood a little ways off, watching. His crimson eyes were sharp with a certain tension in his expression that hadn’t been there earlier that day.

Normally he would’ve made some snide comment by now, especially seeing you standing so close to the timid boy.

But today, Bakugo wasn’t himself.

He approached you in deliberate strides, his jaw set. You noticed the way his hands were shoved deep into his pockets, almost as if he was holding himself back.

As he neared, you felt a flicker of something—nervousness? Excitement?—you couldn’t quite place it. Bakugo always had a way of stirring something inside you, no matter the circumstance.

“Oi,” he barked, voice unusually serious. “We need to talk.”

I took too much and you let me...

Conversation around you fizzled as Uraraka and Midoriya exchanged confused glances. You, too, blinked in surprise. Normally, Bakugo wasn’t this direct—not with you, anyway.

He was blunt, sure, but not like this. There was a hardness to his tone, an edge that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

You smiled, trying to keep things light. “What’s up, Katsuki?”

He didn’t respond, his eyes flickering to the duo. You take the hint and turn to the pair, giving them a quick wave. “I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

As your friends walked away the air between you and Bakugo thickened. He turned abruptly, heading toward the school building without a word, leaving you no choice but to follow.

When you reached an empty classroom, you slip inside, Bakugo shutting the door behind with a soft click. The familiar scent of chalk and old textbooks filled the space, but it did nothing to ease the growing tension.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just stood there with his hands still in his pockets, gaze fixed on a spot on the floor. His usual gruffness was gone—replaced by something much colder, much more distant.

We’ve been down all these roads before...

You watched him, waiting, hoping that he would explain whatever was weighing him down.

“Katsuki?” you step closer, voice soft. You offer him a bright smile, the kind that usually softened his rough edges.

But today, it didn’t reach him. He barely looked at you.

A sinking feeling began to settle in your chest. “Is something wrong?”

The silence hung between you like a heavy curtain. You reached out, your fingers just grazing his sleev—

“I want to break up.”

And what we found don’t live there anymore...

You took a step back, feeling as if his words had physically struck you. Your heart pounded in your chest until it echoed in your ears, drowning out the silence that had fallen between you.

“…What?” The word barely escaped your lips, a fragile whisper as your mind struggled to comprehend what he’d just said.

It didn’t make sense. Nothing about this made sense.

Bakugo’s jaw clenched, and for a fleeting moment, his crimson eyes met yours. He stiffened at the sight of you—vulnerable, confused.

Your brows furrowed in pain, your lips pressed together in an attempt to hold back the hurt. Seeing you like this made something inside him twist sharply.

But just as quickly, he tore his gaze away, refusing to let you see the storm raging inside him.

“This,” he said, gesturing between the two of you with a sharp wave of his hand, “only happened out of obligation.”

Obligation...

The word hit you harder than the breakup itself.

He continued, his tone bitter. “You know how the old hag was. Always on my ass, hounding me to give you a chance.”

It's dark...

Your mind reeled. You met Bakugo in middle school and from that moment you’d been drawn to him.

He was rough and brash with a fire that burned everything he did, and that only made you more determined to get close to him.

Your crush had been obvious, but you never shied away from it. You pursued him with a confidence that even now looking back you admired.

And yes, Bakugo had been difficult—dishing out the usual sharp remarks, disrespect dripping from every word. But still, you never backed down.

You tolerated it—not out of weakness, but because you refused to be intimidated by him.

You met his fire with your own; challenging him and pushing back, not afraid to give him the same energy he threw at the world.

It's cold...

At first you were just an affectionate annoyance to him. Always hanging around, always inserting yourself into his space. But with time, you grew on him—though he’d never admit it.

You became a part of his life, slipping past the walls he put up around everyone. He never asked for it, but he came to expect your presence—to crave it in ways he didn’t understand.

And now, standing in this empty classroom you could barely recognize him.

For a moment your voice felt lost. The Bakugo in front of you—saying these words and shutting himself off—was a stranger.

Something inside you knew he was lying. He had to be.

“…You’re lying.” Your voice came out weak, trembling.

The silence that followed was suffocating. Your words hung in the air fragile, and you weren’t sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself.

But you knew Bakugo. He was a lot of things—angry, hotheaded, unpredictable—but he wasn’t a liar. Not to you.

If my hand is not the one you're meant to hold...

You searched his face for any hint of truth, any crack in his exterior. But his expression was hard, closed off in a way you hadn’t seen in so long.

“I’m not, and you know it!” His voice was sharp, louder than before with anger lacing every word.

His lips press into a thin line as his teeth into the flesh to keep the words trapped inside—the sorrys, the desperate apologies. Taking one last look at your face, he turns away with a scoff.

His chest tightened as he try to hold back the wave of guilt that threatened to swallow him whole.

But he couldn’t let it out. If he did, it’d be over. He wouldn’t be able to do this.

Wouldn’t be able to let you go.

"You are!" Your voice cut through the silence more sure this time. He could hear the determined steps you took toward him, the confidence in your voice making it even harder to breathe.

You were close now, close enough that he could feel your warmth even though he kept his back to you. He didn’t dare turn around.

"Tell me you don’t love me if you’re serious." You dared him, forcing him to confront the truth you already knew. "Because the Katsuki I know will tell me the truth, because he isn’t afraid of the consequences."

You know I'll stay don't you tempt me...

The words echoed in his mind, bouncing off the walls he had built around himself. And for a second, just a second, Bakugo faltered.

His resolve wavered at the sound of your belief in him—a belief he didn’t deserve, not after everything he was about to do.

Your confidence made his head spin, made the words in his throat turn to ash.

But no matter how much your voice reached out to him the doubt gnawed at him. The weight of every fear and insecurity clawing at the edges of his mind.

Do it, the voice whispered. You don’t deserve her. She deserves better, someone who can give her the kind of love you can’t.

The voice grew louder, drowning out everything else. They took root in his mind; poisoning every thought and emotion until all he could feel was the crushing weight of his own incompetence.

But all this weight is getting heavy...

"You want the truth?” Before he could stop himself the words ripped from his throat.

Turning around to face you with a vicious glare, his voice was laced with venom. “I can’t keep letting an extra like you drag me down!"

The second the words left his mouth the air between you seemed to freeze. Your footsteps, even the sound of your breathing—it all stopped.

The world felt like it had come to a standstill.

Bakugo's heart hammered in his chest as he forced himself to keep going. "You're not even in the hero course!"

Though meant to hurt and push you away, as soon as they left his mouth, he felt a sickening twist in his gut. Still he couldn’t stop. He had to finish this.

“Keep following me around like a pathetic dog. I will be Number One, and I refuse to have any baggage slowing me down!" His voice rose, louder and harsher than he meant.

Every syllable spoken was coated in venom, cutting deeper and deeper with each passing second. And then—silence.

Been holding up what wasn't meant to stand...

No words. No movement. Just...nothing.

Bakugo grit his teeth, jaw tight as he waited—waited for you to scream, to lash out, to fight back like you always did. But nothing came.

The silence stretched on, wrapping around him like chains, pulling him down deeper into the pit he had dug for himself.

Then, came the sound of your sniffles. Soft and faint, the sound of your heart breaking. For years, you always worried that you weren’t good enough for Bakugo.

You didn’t have the flashy, powerful quirk that the others did. Hell, you weren’t even in the hero course! You were just a simple General Studies student.

That insecurity had haunted you for as long as you could remember. It always lingered in the back of your mind, whispering doubts whenever you saw Bakugo training, pushing himself harder than anyone else.

And it had only gotten worse when you started dating him. You couldn’t help but wonder if people looked at you and thought, How could someone like her ever deserve him?

I turned this love into a wasteland...

But Bakugo had always been there to shut those thoughts down. Harshly. Brutally. He never let you get away with doubting yourself, always snapping at you for thinking so low of yourself.

His scolding had been tough, unrelenting, but it was his way of caring—his way of showing you that he believed in you, even when you didn’t believe in yourself.

And now...he was throwing all of that in your face.

His words cut deeper than you ever thought they could. He was attacking the very thing he had always defended you against.

The thing he had never let you believe about yourself. You weren’t in the hero course. You didn’t have a strong quirk. You weren’t like him.

Maybe you never would be.

The weight of his words pressed down on you, making your chest tight and throat constrict. You were so overwhelmed, so hurt, that you didn’t even notice one crucial thing.

He never said it.

Bakugo never said, “I don’t love you.”

But in your frantic state, your mind couldn’t latch onto that detail. Instead, it spiraled; twisting in on itself, unraveling every belief you’d ever held about his love for you.

Before I turn your heart into a ghost town...

Was everything he ever told you a lie? Was this how he truly felt all along?

'Was I just fooling myself this whole time?'

The thoughts came at you fast like a storm. Everything you thought was real—every tender moment, every quiet confession, every time Bakugo had pulled you close, even if he didn’t say the words outright—it all felt like it was shattering into pieces in front of you.

It was all too much. You couldn’t handle it. Couldn’t be here in this moment.

Not with him, not with those venomous words still hanging in the air between you.

Your vision blurred and you could feel your heart pounding wildly in your chest, threatening to tear you apart from the inside.

Panic set in. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think straight. Every part of you screamed to get out, to run, to escape.

'I can’t let him see me like this. I can’t...'

Before you knew it your hand was on the door, slamming it open with a force that rattled the frame.

Show me everything we built so I can tear it all down...

The sound echoed through the empty halls as you bolted, your sobs finally breaking free from your lips.

The world outside the classroom was a blur. Your tears streamed freely now, hot and stinging against your cheeks. You didn’t care who saw you.

You just needed to get away, to be anywhere but here. Suddenly, your shoulder slammed into something—someone—knocking you off balance.

You gasped, the impact jarring you out of your spiral for a split second.

Your eyes barely registered the green hair before you stammered out a tearful, jumbled, "S-sorry!" Your voice cracked by the sobs that you couldn’t control.

Down...

Down, down, down...

Izuku stumbled back wide-eyed in shock, his hand instinctively reaching out to steady you. But before he could ask what was wrong, you were already gone.

His fingers brushed the air where you had just been, mouth opened as if to call after you, but the words never came.

He watched helplessly as you disappeared down the hallway, your sobs echoing behind you like the remnants of a broken heart.

His hand hovered in the air for a moment longer, his brows furrowing in concern. “Wha...?”

His gaze flickered to where you had come from, the half-open door to the classroom still swinging slightly from your frantic exit.

What the hell just happened?

With a sinking feeling in his chest Izuku slowly approached the classroom door. Peering through the half-open door, he froze.

Tear it all down...

Inside the empty classroom stood Bakugo. The blonde had his back to the door as stared out the window.

Izuku had known Bakugo for a long time. He’d seen him angry, frustrated, ready to explode at a moment’s notice. But this...this was different.

This time he was silent. Completely and utterly still.

“Kacchan?” Izuku’s voice was hesitant, quiet, as if he were afraid to break the silence.

Not receiving an answer, the freckled greenette took a cautious step into the room, one foot out just in case he needed to make a quick escape. “Why was ____ crying? Is everything al—”

“Izuku.”

Izuku’s words died in his throat as his eyes widened in shock. His name. Bakugo never called him by his real name. Ever.

Not unless something was really, really wrong.

Down...

“Y-Yeah?” Izuku stammered. He took another step forward, but he froze again when Bakugo finally turned around.

Heart-broken, teary vermillion eyes are the first thing he sees.

His face was twisted, lips trembling as if he were desperately trying to hold everything in. The raw emotion on his face—the vulnerability—was something Izuku had never seen before.

It was like looking at a stranger.

“Kacchan...” Izuku’s voice was barely a whisper. For a long moment, the two boys just stood there staring at each other in silence.

Izuku was in disbelief at the sight of Bakugo. His childhood friend, his rival, the one person he had always thought was untouchable—completely crumbling before him.

But the more time passed, the more Bakugo’s carefully constructed façade began to shatter. And then, with a strangled yell Bakugo folded in on himself.

His body shook violently as he hunched forward, arms wrapping around his middle as if he could physically hold himself together.

But it was no use. The dam had broken.

Down, down, down...

Izuku’s heart lurched in his chest, legs moving before his brain could even process what was happening. He rushed forward, catching Bakugo just as the blonde collapsed from the weight of his own emotions.

“K-Kacchan—Bakugo!” Izuku’s voice was panicked, his arms holding the teen to steady him, though he barely knew what to do. “What’s going on? What happened?”

Bakugo wasn’t supposed to break like this. He wasn’t supposed to fall apart. He was strong. Stronger than anyone.

And yet, here he was: trembling violently, sobbing uncontrollably in Izuku’s arms.

“I… I had to…” Bakugo choked out between gasping, shuddering breaths. His voice was barely recognizable, thick with pain and regret.

His hands clutched desperately at Izuku’s arms, as if they were the only thing keeping him grounded. “I had to do it… I had to…”

Izuku tightened his grip, his mind racing as he tried to process what Bakugo was saying. “Had to? Had to do what?” he asked, his voice shaking as he looked down at Bakugo’s tear-streaked face, alarm written all over his features.

He’d never seen Bakugo like this—no one did.

Bakugo’s head fell forward, his messy blond hair shadowing his eyes as he gripped Izuku’s arms harder. “I had to let her go,” Bakugo rasped, his voice breaking as fresh tears spilled down his cheeks.

“...I had to.”

I'll tear it all down...

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perseidlion · 3 months ago

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Dead Boy Detectives friends, I totally respect and support those of you who feel like you want to fight. You want to make noise. You want to sign petitions and organize campaigns. I get that you don't want to give up on this wonderful show.

Normally I'd support campaigns, but in this case I think there are some very big things working against us:

The Neil Gaiman factor. I hate to say it, but the accusations against him were probably part of the reason for cancellation and why getting picked up elsewhere is a non-starter. The explicit ties to the Netflix Sandman with Death and Despair SHOULD have helped the show get renewed. But with the accusations against NG, that definitely hurt it. That's so deeply unfair because those of us who are fans of the show know that DBD is not a Gaiman show, and his contribution to the story is minimal. But Sandman is Gaiman's, and they made the connection to Sandman and thus Gaiman, explicit. When the news about NG came down, Sandman was already well into production and contracts were signed. I honestly wouldn't be surprised if S2 was Sandman's last season.

The collapse of streaming. Gone are the days when networks pick up each others' shows to try and court subscribers and steal an audience share. That barely happens anymore, and when it does it's under very unusual circumstances. Every network is cancelling well-reviewed shows with a following. Every network is cancelling queer shows more than others. Every network is greedy and looking for mega-hits only. There are no good guys in the streaming landscape.

The economy and the strikes. Don't get me wrong, the gains made by SAG-AFTRA, and the Writers and Directors' guilds were absolutely necessary and required for fairness. But it did increase production costs. Instead of adjusting their profit expectations, the streamers are trying desperately to keep the same profits from the pre-strike days. Which is why we have this mega-hit or bust model. Add to that the economic downturn and the price of everything going up, and the bar for "success" from a corporate standpoint is set impossibly high.

Streaming's metric for success is new subscribers, not how much existing subscribers enjoy the content. This is a big one. It used to be if an audience loved it and that audience was appealing to an advertiser, a show could keep going. Advertisers wanted the affinity for the show to spill over onto their product for supporting it. But with streaming, the streamers don't care how much you love something. They just care that you watch it, you stay subscribed, and that content gets new subscribers. A passionate watch is worth the same $$ wise to them as a hate watch or a half-interested watch. In that way, the loss of commercials is the reason for so many of the more niche shows getting cancelled.

The big reason I think we're sunk for either getting Netflix to reverse the decision or for it to get picked up elsewhere is honestly, because Yockey posted a pretty big S2 spoiler. The showrunner wouldn't do that if he thought there was any hope. My guess is the show is tied to Netflix because of the Sandman connection, and because they commissioned scripts for S2 that they own. There's probably some contractual reasons that make network hopping impossible.

I don't want to be a downer, and like I said if you want to campaign to let your heart heal or just to not let this happen quietly, I fully support that.

But in my heart, I think we have to lay our beloved Dead Boy Detectives to rest - at least as a show. They'll live on in our hearts and our fanworks.

#dead boy detectives #netflix #netflix shows #streaming #dbda #dead boy detectives cancellation #dead boy detectives cancelation

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scoobydoodean · 2 months ago

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Honestly I think that a lot of the reason why people view dean as abusive towards jack is because they genuinely think of him as a baby/toddler and not someone with the cognitive abilities of an older teenager/young adult who just happens to not really know much about the world. Obviously there's more to it because people ignore that cas wanted to put jack in the cage and sam wanted to use his power, but I stumbled across a post the other day about how they (the writers and the characters) should've given jack a capri-sun instead of a beer because he's a "literal toddler"... which is just completely incorrect and considering he has the body and brain development of someone who's older, there's no reason to not give him a beer. (also is anyone really a dad unless they give their 3 yr old a beer /j)

Context

It's funny because the whole point of the beer scene is to establish that Jack is not a child and that treating him like one would be ridiculous.

[DEAN grabs and opens a bottle of beer. JACK imitates him.] DEAN Wait, wait, wait, wait. How old do you think you are? JACK 3 days, 17 hours, and 42 minutes.

(From 13.02)

When Jack proves that he has such an advanced understanding of communication and time and such an unusual awareness of exactly how much time has passed, Dean immediately realizes that treating him as if he's a baby makes absolutely no sense because he clearly isn't one. Treating him like a child would be infantilizing, and we see Jack rebel against the notion that he's a baby a few times.

There's some push I think to separate Jack's intellectual abilities from his emotional coping abilities, but even these I think are more or less on track with other young adolescents around the age he presents himself to be when controlling for traumatic experiences. Jack's initial emotional regulation abilities don't read like those of a toddler, but of a young adult who's confused and upset and has been through a lot. Without powers in the mix that he doesn't know how to control, his emotional regulation abilities seem fairly standard for boys his age (at least to me). I don't think for example, that the anger he experiences and the reasons he experiences that anger can be equated with toddler-like tantrums, and any other person whose been around a toddler and sees what kind of things make them furious knows what I mean.

Granted, there are things Jack is naive about that are probably connected to him being "born yesterday". We see this early on when Asmodeus tries to manipulate Jack into opening a hell gate. At the same time, this interaction also highlights Jack's innate sense of right and wrong as a counterbalance. I personally find it frustrating when people try to take away Jack's understanding of right and wrong (rooted in his love for others) and cast him as a baby to the extent that he isn't even capable of understanding the golden rule, when Jack shows over and over how seriously he takes the personhood of other people and the weight of their lives. This is what allows him to see through Asmodeus's trickery in a very confusing situation, simply realizing, "you're hurting my friends". Jack using his care for others as a foundation to navigate Asmoedus's trickery also serves as excellent contrast to soulless Jack in 14.19. Soulless Jack was not able to grasp that Dumah was manipulating him because he was missing this crucial piece of himself—his love for other people including strangers. Because he was lacking that part of himself at that time, he was unable to grasp that filling someone's body with worms for not wanting to be turned into an angel is horrible and cruel and couldn't be a good thing. His naivety played a role in what happened, but it was the crucial missing soul that actually allowed this situation to transpire. I think a lot of people just straight up think normal Jack also would have been manipulated into killing people for Dumah in this circumstance and I really just don't think that's true at all.

#mail #jack #jacks moral compass #13.01 #13.02 #14.19 #dumah

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rafesgoldrings · 1 year ago

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MORE KOOK READER X KOOK BOYS PLEASE!!!!!!! what would happen if a pogue hit on the reader when her boys aren’t around and she tells the kooks cause besties tell each other everything

Okay my mind is slightly more clear now so, I absolutely took the opportunity to add some angst

So this is going two ways. The first is that they just flirt with you, you laugh and walk out of whatever place you’d been. You’d call the boys and tell them, you’d laugh about it and make fun of the grimy boy that thought he had a chance with you, remind you that you are theirs and only theirs before hanging up and wait for you to arrive at your home where they’d been waiting.

But the second one is when the guy gets touchy. When he won’t seem to take no for an answer even after you’d slapped him in the face. You were just trying to get snacks for your smoke session later that night when the grimy guy came up to you. He’d called you beautiful, asked if you had a boyfriend, kept following you around the store and wouldn’t leave you alone. Then his hand slapped your ass and you whipped around, hand flying across his cheek at full force, leaving the store empty handed when he still tried to reach out and grope at you with a sick smile on his face. You’d called Rafe asking if they were all together or if it was just him and he’d tell you they were all at his place waiting for you, asking what happened when he heard you sniffling on the other end of the phone. You told him you’d explain when you got there and hung up, speeding over to his place. When you got there, parked your jeep and walked into his living room, they knew something was wrong. Your eyes were red and swollen, nose running and tears staining your cheeks, and all stood up to pull you into a hug. They gave you a few minutes to calm down before pulling you over to the couch, letting you explain the situation. You barely finished saying the last word before Rafe and Kelce were on their feet storming towards the front door. You tried to stop them, telling them a dirty pogue wasn’t worth the fight. “But you are. You are worth the fight and that asshole made you cry and fucking touched you without consent, i’m going to handle it baby. Stay with Topper okay?” Rafe said, and then he and Kelce were out the door, Topper pulling you into his lap, cradling your head into his chest with his arms around you. The two boys would return later, startling you from the small nap you’d managed to take, knuckles bloodied. “What did you do?” you weren’t sure if you really wanted to know. Normally you’d be happy, excited even over seeing your boys covered in some pogues blood, but you didn’t want them in trouble anymore. And you knew Ward would be livid if he found out, especially given the unusual circumstances. “Took care of him for you sweet girl” Kelce spoke, you didn’t pry any further, just let them join you on the couch and take turns holding you, reassuring you that you were safe and nobody would ever touch you again. That you weren’t ever leaving their sight again if they could help it.

Tag List: @sweetestdesire @xyzstar

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron imagine #poly!kooks x kook!reader #topper thornton imagine #topper thornton x reader #topper thornton #kelce obx #kelce x reader #asks <3

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affectionate-team · 1 year ago

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Picture-perfect fairytale romance 2/3

Synopsis: Fairytales help tell children of all sides of human life without exposing them to real dangers. But what will happen if a child keeps their favorite story far too close to heart, projecting fantasies onto reality?

Part two, finally! I've been struggling with deciding how to approach the whole thing, but, thanks to how much time autumn holidays are giving me, I managed to finish this! Now, only one part left... I wonder if what I'm planning for it will be predictable, or maybe the hints weren't obvious enough to pick up on? (ﾉ*･ω･)ﾉ

TW for delusional Neige, some mild swearing, a little ooc. MC is gn.

He always thought the circumstances would be slightly... different.

As he watched them disappear in the woods, Neige unconsciously reached out a hand towards his beret. Words written in golden embroidery burned against skin: "Someday my princess will come".

But they are nothing like the fairytale princesses. Helplessness and dependence are not words suit for them. It may be far too soon to make assumptions, but the way that person held themselves, the light their whole body radiated should be a sure sign... "No, I'm thinking about this too much - too soon. That's what I'm always being told... I swear, I'm not desperate, just- how am I supposed to know when I'll meet my destined person? If I act nonchalant all the time, I might accidently drive them away and never even know of that." These thoughts brought a childish pout to his face, creases forming between perfectly sculptured brows - an unusual expression for the normally cheerful boy.

Still, some things don't add up to his expectations.

"Ah, but how could your heart have any place for doubt? Were it myself, I would never let my dear beloved go."

You don't even remember how much time passed after the strange encounter in the woods. Days trickled by leisurely, with no crazy adventures and, thankfully, no overblots. The only inconvenience so far was Ace getting into another quarrel with his housewarden and being collared for a week. You found out about it when the boy in question turned up on the doorstep of Ramshackle late in the evening - right when you and Grim were about to head to bed. Clad in old pajamas (found in one of the old wardrobes during sunday cleaning and thoroughly washed), you opened the door, interrupting Ace's violent knocking. Behind his back stood Deuce - nothing surprising; the two had been inseparable since the chandelier incident, it would've been weirder to see them apart - who made a show of scolding his companion for showing up there at an ungodly hour and dragging him along, but was just as excited about possibly staying over. You didn't even hear out the story behind their appearance, as the bright-red collar on Trappola's neck told enough, leaving the door open for them and walking up the stairs to retrieve three sets of blankets and pillows. Grim, having taken the hint, was already sprinting to the pantry to pick out his favorite snacks (and bring some for you, too). Ace and Deuce had made such sleepovers a habit for your group, so, without any further questions, they headed to Guest Room to move the furniture and make space.

"Can't believe you have the audacity to bother prefect every time you get in trouble..."

If the jab bothered Ace, he didn't let it show, "Shut up, Deucey. You pretend to be all righteous, but when they offer us to stay over, I never see you turning them down."

"That-! That's because I was taught it's rude to not accept invitations, especially from friends! And there should be at least someone watching over you to make sure you don't get into more trouble."

Coming from the kitchen with three empty glasses (and a small cup) in hands, you take the opportunity to interject, "You're just as bad, to be honest. If anyone's being responsible among us, that's got to be me."

The redhead scoffs with crossed arms, "Uh-huh, responsible my ass... You're only right about one thing - Deucey being a walking hazard."

You exchange more sarcastic remarks, with sleepy Grim lying stretched out across your lap, until the topic eventually switches to more menial things: clubs, teachers, fresh gossip. One particular talk makes you recall the encounter you had a few days earlier.

"And then Vil started raging when a commercial came up on some guy's phone. It was that new music video with his kidfaced arch-nemesis; He was trying to keep it cool, but I swear he almost chucked a water bottle at Rook when that creep approached him."

"Really? I did see him annoyed a few times, but for Vil, of all people, to attempt a murder in broad daylight. Who could've bothered him that much?"

"Eh, it's Neige for you, nothing new. These two have had a rivalry going on for a long time. Did you not know? Their fans have the wildest and most ridiculous discourses ever, it's kinda fun to watch."

You tear your eyes away from the ongoing game of cards, looking up at Ace with furrowed brows.

"Neige, you say...? Can you show me a photo?"

His face noticeably scrunched up, "Ew, why would you even want to look at him? He's just another one of those pretentious freaks from RoYaL SwOrDs", clear disdain and disgust in his voice switched to smugness as he leaned closer to you, almost draping himself over your shoulder, "Aren't I more handsome, hm? And, unlike that stuck-up princey, I can give you all~ the attention in the world, without any fans hogging it."

Deuce, annoyed with his friend's touchiness, grabs Ace by the collars and nearly throws him off of you, "I wonder why you don't have any fans, then. Even prefect is more popular than you are, dumbass!"

Upon noticing your unamused (and somewhat pissed off) frown, he hurries to retaliate, "That's not what I meant! You're really cool, so it's obvious you'd have some fans, but you're also new here, and you spend more time with us and not others, and I didn't-"

"I get it, you can calm down..."

"...sorry again."

A bunch of idiots, that's what they are. Still, it's hard to be mad with them, your two first and best friends here, for long. Someone shoves a phone right into your face (thankfully, without breaking your nose) just as you start going deeper into your thoughts.

It's Ace phone with Magicam open on it. Before you is a profile of a model and actor, as seen from the description. You scroll a little and open the last posted picture. True to your suspicions, it turns out to be exactly the Neige that you met after classes some time ago. Eyes lighting up in recognition, you murmur a quiet "Huh, I know him". That brings out a reaction from the other two.

They kept on pestering you, until you gave in and told them the whole story. Neither one seemed convinced. And you didn't need them to be, as long as they'd stop pestering you, they were free to believe whatever their sturdy selfish hearts desired.

"Thank you for accompanying me, prefect. I hope our joined efforts will be fruitful."

Jade smiles in his usual polite manner, fixing straps on his backpack. He leads you along the forest trail, keeping his eyes on the ground on the lookout for mushrooms, hidden by wide leaves and long blades of grass. As the only member of Mountains lovers club, Jade was eager to have somebody - especially the infamous magicless prefect of Ramshackle - come along, even if he knew you only agreed because of some favor you needed from him. Both equipped with light camping gear, you venture up a hill in search of mushrooms. On the way to the top Jade tells you why he took you there in the first place: apparently, on one of the Botanical lessons he learned of a rare species of mushrooms, last seen around that hill; to his delight, the said species weren't hard to care for - a perfect addition to Jade's terrarium - and the way from NRC wasn't long or tiresome, which allowed him to bring you along without worrying about you collapsing halfway from exhausting, not quite used to walking big distances.

Whatever fears you might've had for the trip instantly evaporate when you notice how passionate your senior is about his hobby. It's not the fear-inducing hitman everybody sees and describes him as, but only an ordinary highschooler ranting about his interests to the first willing listener. What a heartfelt scene.

"...and it's told to possess strong poison, able to paralyze a mammal as big as an elephant from just a bite. Why, isn't that curious? I'd love to have one of them in my disposition."

...up until the moment his (seemingly inherited) thirst for murder lets itself be known.

The higher the trail goes, the more changes add to scenery. Colorful wild plants and berries, butterflies and beetles of various kinds. And most importantly - air, fresh and free, a fine change compared to stuffed school air you've grown used to.

"According to the data I collected, it should be growing around this area. I propose splitting up for more efficiency. Can I trust you not to get lost, mauled by beasts or poisoned?", looking you over, he thinks for a second, soon reconsidering, "No, it would be best for you to just stay put and wait for me there. Do try not to wander off too far, and call for me if needed - after all, for this short while your safety is my responsibility."

"Then why did you even drag me along?"

"For company. Hiking is most enjoyable with a companion. Take this as a chance to catch a break from all the bustle your poor body has had to endure. Do not worry, I won't be away for more than five minutes."

He frames his words (so unlike the thinly veiled threats and mocking remarks he'd usually make in school) with a nod, leisurely going his own way, often bending down to check under trees and most suspicious patches of grass for mushrooms, before he disappears from sight.

You decide to take a seat on a dry stump, surrounded by vibrant-green moss. Birds' trill fills in the growing silence. Leaves rustle somewhere over your head - something you would've hardly heard a minute or two ago. As if trying to accommodate a picky guest, the nature around you beams in full flourish, bringing a sure sense of comfort. Despite having intruded its domain, you don't feel alien - with no visible threats nearby, you follow Jade's advice and give yourself permission to relax... only to be disturbed by someone's voice reaching from down the hill.

"Hey! Anybody here? Please, help me!"

...No need to think twice to recognize the voice. What a coincidence. There's no way he just appeared there, far away from both his and your schools, all by himself, and didn't even you and Jade's path.

"By the way, five minutes should've already passed by now. Where the hell is he?"

This whole situation is starting to look like one big ridiculous play. It wouldn't be so surprising if Vil suddenly popped out from under a rock, shouting 'Cut!' and reprimanding you for lacking proper emotions. You drag a hand across your face, constructing a simple plan in head: rescue Neige, tell him off, find Jade and pass out on the couch in Ramshackle. With a set of tasks in mind you venture down the trail - good thing it was obvious enough not to get lost among the greenery - and follow the boy's calls, not without tripping a couple of times on the way.

"Heey- ah, hello! Thank the Sevens you were near!", here he is, hanging upside down from a tree branch, legs tangled up in a... hunting net? "For a moment I was afraid I'll have to hang there all day and night. Could you please get me down?"

"What were you doing there in the first place?", moreover in such a casual attire, as if he just walked out of his room...

"Ah, that... is a long story. May I tell you after my feet get to touch ground?", he answered with a sheepish smile.

You sigh, but relent, reaching into one of your pockets for a switchblade, then grasp the rope (it wasn't hanging too high) and cut it. "Should've told him to brace for the fall", you thought, watching him land face-first into dirt. While Neige was preoccupied with brushing off his cardigan, you pocket your knife, preparing to go search for your mushroom-obsessed companion (how ironic for the one who was worried about you getting lost to disappear himself), but not without the black-haired boy scrambling after you.

"Thank you! Once again, I don't know what I would do if it weren't for you." "Mhm." "I'm not sure how, but I suddenly found myself here after following a butterfly, and-" "Yeah, great. You can go back home now." "But how can I leave and not even offer a token of my appreciation for your help? How about-"

Jade better come back as soon as humanly possible, because, Seven be witness, you might just tie this boy to the biggest tree in the forest and leave him to be eaten by wolves. At least Schoenheit will have a reason for a genuine smile this one time.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #yuurei's fics #gender neutral reader #neige leblanche #neige x reader #twst neige #yandere #x reader

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moonmeg · 8 months ago

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What does Robyn think about his father being stabbed? I mean, normally parents are lost to car accidents, illnesses etc but dying by stabbing is a very sad death :(

I personally think all ways of losing a parent are sad deaths (yes, even by natural causes) if you were close to them. The cause of death to be stabbing is rather unusual though.

Robyn never met Caleb but he has this gut feeling whenever his mother tells him about Caleb or whenever Robyn thinks about Caleb himself that he'd have a close bond to his father. He never met him but he thinks and cares about him a lot. If Caleb had died by natural causes it wouldn't have that big of toll on Rob. It obviously would still affect him and he wouldn't just shrug it off but in comparison to knowing Caleb was murdered, knowing that under different circumstances Robyn could've had both parents... you know it makes a bit of a difference.

Robyn is still very pained over only knowing his father through stories by his mother or grandparents and that feeling will never truly leave him. It'll always linger. Followed by anger toward the person responsible for Caleb's early death.

Boy also hasn't visited the grave since Cat and he discovered it devastated. The grave was a very important place for Rob to feel close to his father. Closer than when he'd just think about him. But the robbed grave was too painful to return to. Cat and his ritual of visiting Caleb's grave was abandoned and even when Robyn grew to be of age to leave the house on his own he could never get himself to go there. With the whole situation of losing his magic and finding out he's human he's only pushing Caleb away further unintentionally.

#moonmeg ask #robyn clawthorne #caleb clawthorne #caleb wittebane

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theodork · 1 year ago

Text

Over; Part Two

Character: Saiki K

Warning: Break up, angst, cursing, aruging

Summary: A powerful, omnipotent, psychic's girlfriend broke up with him because she did not feel loved by him. He does love her he just doesn't know how to express it. Saiki can't see why Y/N is hurt and it leads to a minor argument on the rooftop

‘Saiki communicating’ (or the reader and Saiki's telepathic coves)

“everyone else talking”

Italics- thoughts

~Over~Part~~Two~~

..............................................................................................................................

"We broke up, I broke up with Saiki" Y/N said, Teruhashi and Yumehara were both huddles around Y/N's desk. Teruhashi did everything she could to contain her excitement while Yumehara threw dirty and contemptuous looks in my direction.

"I thought you two were in love," Teruhashi asked. "Yeah well, it is what it is." Y/N stated as if what she was talking about was the most mundane thing in the world.

"He did seem kinda sad when I walked in, well it was unusual from his normal stoic manner," Teruhashi's honeyed voice masked how she truly felt.

I don't care, he should have cared when we were dating, now there's nothing that will fix that because it would not be a real and geuine gesture. She thought. She stayed silent and did not answer the bluenette.

Why was Y/N being so unreasonable? Why was she being so childish and dramatic? I was frustrated and couldn't understand why she acted like that yesterday.

Of course, I cared about her. Of course, I loved her. I loved her so much, and I did not even think it was possible. I was the most powerful psychic in the world doomed never to love, but she changed everything. For the first time ever I had felt a sensation I had never felt before. I felt like I was drowning in my own despair. My chest was heavy, and my heart ached. Every breath felt like a struggle, and every thought was consumed by her. It was a pain that I had never known before. Pain that I did not even think I was capable of feeling.

What hurt, even more, was not knowing how to fix it. For the first time, I felt helpless. I was gripped by a sense of helplessness that I had never experienced before. If the situation had been different, I might have found some solace in the fact that my powers were rendered useless. However, at this moment, I was unable to do anything to change the circumstances and it left me feeling utterly powerless. Being the most powerful boy in the world was absolutely pointless, even now it did not benefit me in the slightest. I could not just read her mind and get her anything she desired, I could not just apologize for anything I did--not that anything was my fault she was just being dramatic--because she knew my secret. She'd know it wouldn't be 'a real and genuine gesture' as she put it.

How stupid was I? You don't ever call me Saiki. I thought back to yesterday. Why didn't I say more and why didn't I try to solve it right then and there? There is nothing I can do right now. I needed to let her have some space, as much as it was killing me to do so.

It especially hurt when everyone at school knew we had broken up. It felt weird to feel like this and it was not just because she was my shield from other social obligations. It was a nice perk, however. It was like she was moving on. It felt final when she announced to Teruhashi that she was no longer dating me. More than all of this it hurt to see that she was hurting. To hear what was going on in her mind and not being able to ease this.

..............................................................................................................................

Despite not being one of my most noble uses of power, I convinced her to go to the rooftop out of desperation. "What did I forget?" she was cut off from her thought when she opened the door to find me. "Nope." Y/N turned to leave as I grabbed her arm.

'Please wait,' I asked. She turned and looked at me. Her eyebrows knit together, she was pissed.

"Fine," she hissed. She was hurt, she was masking her hurt with anger even though she knew I could hear her thoughts. "But stay out of my head, ass." She yanked her hand back.

"I'm sorry for whatever I did or didn't do," I said. She quickly interrupted me, "Are you sorry? Do you know what your sorry for? What do you think because you are actually talking this time? I am supposed to believe you?"

'Could you just be rational for a minute?'

She glared at me, "What are you sorry for?"

'Whatever you are upset about, it doesn't seem like you even know. I don't know what you want me to do'

As Y/N placed her hands over her face, she stared into the distance. "If you don't know, you aren't sorry, we just aren't right for each other."

'All you had to do was talk to me,'

"Why can you read minds? Couldn't you not tell I was upset?" She started to tear up. I felt awful. " You can't see it when it's right in front of you! You can't see me, how do I feel? I'm right in front of you. Couldn't you have spared me some of your time without making me feel like a burden? Could you have gone out of your way for me? Instead of pushing me way untill the last minute and then trying to lure me back?"

Had I really been treating her that way? It didn't matter because that's how she felt. I mentally facepalmed. How could I have been so blind? It was real to her.

She waited for me to respond.

"Dating is still a novel concept to me," I said. "And it scares me to think about losing you. It feels like I already have." She nodded. "I never ment to make you feel like a burden, I just don't know what I am doing. It's not an excuse, but just know that I love you." I said. She smiled. It was bittersweet.

I waited for her to respond

#creative writing #saiki x reader #the disastrous life of saiki k #fanfic #fanction #saiki no psi nan #saiki k #kusuo saiki #kusuo x reader #saiki kusuo no psi nan #teruhashi kokomi #chiyo yumehara

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batsysquared · 4 months ago

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The controversy going on with the Olympics right now is completely and utterly horrific. It is a bubbling cauldron of intersexism, transphobia, racism, and misogyny. And it's not new! This is a story that has played out before - not just in the Olympics, but in various situations even outside the realm of sporting, all across the world. When it comes to intersex people, the utter social dissection and public humiliation for not being Proper is a story that marks our very births, the one that begins from the day we're born, and every time it comes up it is deeply entwined with all of these other prejudices. But this time, there's one thing that different. The (alleged! completely alleged!) medical proof that's landed in their hands has enabled them to show plain and bare that they never cared about anything but their hatred of The Undefinable Enemy, and anyone who is sufficiently marginalized can be placed in that box when narratively convenient. To me, a person who ticks every box on display here, this was obvious - and I'll be putting aside the racism and plain misogyny for now since those are already well covered. But as far as interphobia goes - we've never fit in the category of "cis", whether we consider ourselves to be men or women, and frankly people have a hard time wrapping their heads around us being trans, excepting people who just hate trans people for existing. It's because of this that many intersex people just want to be seen as normal - and, wouldn't you know it? That's a talking point that TERFs and other various transphobes use to pretend they just care oh so much! "Oh, don't bring up those poor people! They just want to be normal boys and girls just like us, they're just rare, unique, disgusting victims of a birth defect! Not perverted and ill freaks like you!" So now, nobody has an excuse for missing what they really think when they say this: the second they can find alleged proof that a woman isn't correctly a woman - the people who manage to acknowledge that intersex and trans aren't the same thing go ahead and talk about how she's a failed man and ought to be treated as such. "It's unfortunate that she has this horrific genetic affliction," they say, "but, well...a man is a man." So much for being treated normal, right? But less obvious before this incident was that every time, every time, they missed what any intersex person ever meant by "wanting to be normal". And of course, it's because they never cared. Our struggles are only brought up solely to shoot down the arguments trans people and allies make that involve us, never to actually consider us or acknowledge the intersexist systems that the occasional trans person or ally will accidentally support. No, again, that'd involve caring. If they did, they'd understand that the plea to be treated normally is a plea to simply be considered as the thing the intersex individual wants to be considered as, without any scrutiny or "buts" or "you poor freak, we need to fix you", regardless of whether they choose to be a man or a woman or both or neither.

Yet even when they're afforded the grace of male or female, it is never without scrutiny. Every day we're questioned, even for those of us not aware of what we are. The societal push against our normality is so stark in every conversation we have about masculinity or femininity and its expectations that these pressures are often the only reason intersex people even learn they're intersex! The circumstances of their birth are hidden from them, a footnote in a surgical record, and they later have some other "problem" that must be fixed. Sometimes this problem that really affects them in some tangible life-altering medical sense, and sometimes it only does so as a result of society saying "hey, are you sure you're the thing you know you are and that we said you are? because damn you're hairy/tall/short/strong/chiseled/soft/tragically micropenised/possessed of breasts of an unusually small or large size for what you Ought To Be!". And of course, either way, once they're adults it's their prerogative to correct whatever they want! But that doesn't excuse the way that society treats this as an expectation of us, and no amount of societally enforced self-loathing changes the fact that it is an expectation, even when this false sympathy is expressed for our plight. (And, you know, if they cared about what intersex people want or the plights we go through, they'd spend less time crying about the nonexistent problem of children being "mutilated" by the trans menace and more about the very real and constant tragedy that is coercive surgical sexual assignment of literal newborns, but lol. lmao.)

My solace here is that now these incidents can be pointed at as evidence that the cry of "don't use intersex people as a shield!" is hollow concern trolling - and also that it makes clear how important liberation from both gender and sex as rigid categories are for, well, everyone, but for intersex people in particular. I'd also hope to see less "oh so transphobia only matters when it affects a cis person" pop up when intersex people get smeared into bloody streaks across the ground, as if women who do wish to fit in the category of "cis" but fail to be considered as such by society due to the circumstances of their birth don't also feel the constant daily sting of transmisogyny - or as if transphobia simply misses people for whom the terms "afab" and "amab" are most relevant. Being both trans and intersex, my experience has been that the discriminatory line here is about as thin as it gets.

But, well, one of these revelations is more important than the other, so I'll settle for not being a toy to be played with by fascists over being slapped by casual intersexism from people that at least recognize we should be working together. Sometimes that's the most one can ask, yeah?

#intersex #intersexism #interphobia #cw: intersexism #cw: interphobia #cw: transphobia #transphobia #lgbtqia #imane khelif #lin yu ting #it just keeps fucking happening #olympics

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mysteryshoptls · 2 years ago

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SSR Lilia Vanrouge Dorm Uniform Personal Story: Part 1

"I'm a pro!"

Part 1 (Part 2) (Part 3)

[Diasomnia Dorm – Lounge]

Lilia: Hmm… Silver and Sebek sure are late. It's almost time for dinner.

Malleus: If it were only Silver, I could suspect that he had fallen asleep on the way back... But this is unusual of Sebek.

Lilia: The two of them said they were off to train together today. Maybe they got so into it they lost track of time.

Malleus: I see, that is quite possible with those two. However, if they are any later, they will completely miss dinner.

Lilia: Normally, I wouldn't be against putting together a special late-night meal for those hardworking boys, but…

Lilia: Unfortunately, I have plans tonight.

Lilia: I promised my online gaming buddy that we'd embark on this ultra-difficult quest line that begins tonight!

Malleus: Oh, so you have plans today…! Then that's all the more reason we cannot have you in the kitchen.

Lilia: Yeah. It's a shame, but I'll have to wait until the next time to showcase my cooking skills.

Lilia: So, maybe we should strike while the iron is hot. Let's go fetch Silver and Sebek…

Sebek/Silver: We've returned.

Lilia: Oh, speak, and they appear.

Sebek: Malleus-sama, Lilia-sama. Forgive us for our late return!

Malleus: There was no deadline you were to meet, so it is no matter. We were only discussing how much later than usual you both were.

Lilia: Sebek, did you swing by the library again? Looks like you've borrowed more books than you normally do.

Malleus: Oho. That's good. You would do well to broaden your knowledge.

Sebek: Yessir, thank you for your kind words. However, Malleus-sama, these books have not been borrowed for studying purposes.

Malleus: Not for study purposes… Whatever do you mean?

Sebek: Right, so…

[rustle, rustle]

Lilia: Hm? Something just moved there between Silver's hands.

Silver: I shall explain the circumstances of our tardiness. Sebek and I had finished training and we were on our way back to the dorm, when…

Silver: We picked up a baby bat.

Lilia: Oh! It's so small and cute.

Malleus: It's rather docile for it being a wild creature. It is not showing any signs of wanting to escape.

Silver: It seems to have an injured wing. It was on the roadside, immobile, so I took it into my care.

Silver: Sebek said, "If it's used up all its strength here, there's nothing to be done. Leave it." and tried to stop me, but…

Silver: If I were to have left it there, it would have continued to weaken. Considering that, I just was not able to leave it alone.

Lilia: I see, I see. That sounds like something you'd do.

Lilia: This little one is lucky. If you hadn't picked him up, Silver, who knows what would have happened…

Lilia: Essentially, bats are the type of creatures that fly by using the gravitational force of falling from an upside-down position.

Lilia: They're not that capable of moving on foot once they fall to the ground.

Sebek: You are as knowledgeable about this as we expected, Lilia-sama.

Sebek: The books we just borrowed from the library had the exact same explanation.

Malleus: So, you mean to say that every single one of these books you've borrowed are on bat biology?

Sebek: Yes. I can't say agree with doing this, however… Once we've made the decision to care for it, we must fulfill our duties properly.

Malleus: …Indeed, it is as you say.

Silver: With Sebek's research into the matter, we were able to somewhat learn a little about the bat's biology.

Silver: Only, there was no useful information on how to raise one… However are we to take care of it?

Lilia: Well, if that's your problem, you know of the perfect person for the job.

Silver: Do you know of someone who is skilled in animal handling? Please tell me who.

Lilia: Are you half-asleep, Silver? You should know better than anyone else who I mean.

Lilia: Who among us raised a toothless little babe into a strong, tough, and compassionate young man?

Silver: That's… you, Father.

Lilia: Correct. I already know how to raise a child. You could say I'm a pro!

Lilia: You can relax and leave it to me.

Sebek: Amazing…!

Sebek: When Silver declared he would bring the bat back to the dorm, I had no idea what could be done for it…

Sebek: But we are reassured to be leaving it in your hands, Lilia-sama. Please let me know if there is anything I may do to help.

Silver: Right, it's comforting to know that you'll look after it, Father. And of course, I will not hesitate to be of use either.

Lilia: Kufufu. I'm pretty sure I won't need your help…

Lilia: But I like your spirit! As a possible learning point for the two of you, let's all look after it together.

Sebek/Silver: YESSIR!

Malleus: Lilia will be caring for a little bat, hm.

Malleus: …Perhaps I should keep an eye on them for a little while, as well.

Part 1 (Part 2) (Part 3)

Requested by Feli and @yukibana.

#twisted wonderland #twst #lilia vanrouge #malleus draconia #sebek zigvolt #twst lilia #twst malleus #twst sebek #twst silver #twst translation #.#i got about 12 asks for his dorm story.#i think that's a new record

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animebw · 5 months ago

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Short Reflection: Spring 2024 Anime

I feel like 2024 is shaping up to be an unusual year for anime. Most mainstream shonen and isekai are staggering into audience fatigue of some kind or another, two-cours series are making a massive comeback, and big waves are being made from eclectic shows like Apothecary Diaries and Girls Band Cry that would likely be relegated to cult classic status in years prior. There haven't been many clear standouts yet, but there's a lot of fascinating second-tier stuff bubbling just under the surface. It feels like the general anime audience has grown so big at this point that the way we consume shows and the kinds of shows that break through are evolving before our eyes. Never mind movies like Look Back and The Colors Within waiting in the wings to redefine our notions of what animated cinema can be. All this is to say, I don't know what we'll make of 2024 when all is said and done, but it's gonna be a very interesting story. For now, though, let's take stock of spring's roster of shows to pick out the best, the worst, and the worth checking out. Not counting the shows I've already talked about (Hibike Euphonium's final season 9.5/10 and Demon Slayer's training arc 4/10) or MHA's latest foray, which I'm still waiting to see exactly how it shakes out.

Dead Dead Demons' Dededede Destruction: Please Watch/10

I'm putting this one right up front because while it's still very early into airing, there's a good chance a lot of you don't even know it exists. Released initially as a pair of movies earlier this year, this adaptation of Oyasumi Punpun author Inio Asano's bizarre bildungsroman alien invasion manga has been retooled into an 18-episode TV series with (apparently) lots of additional footage to fill out everything the movies had to cut for time. Those production circumstances alone would be interesting enough to merit checking it out (fingers crossed Haikyuu can get the same treatment?), but more importantly, this show is just really damn good, and it deserves better than being dropped on Crunchyroll with almost no fanfare and incomplete English subs that don't translate most of the written text. As someone who kind of loved and hated Punpun in equal measure, Dededede feels like all of Asano's best instincts on full display, a riveting exploration of how modern humanity is forced to struggle through "normal" life in the shadow of the apocalypse, asking how we can still set our sights on our futures when there's a very good chance that future might never come. It's messy and difficult, and yet it brims with love for people and our ability to seek kindness and compassion even in the darkest times. Just do yourself a favor and skip the awful "episode 0" prologue; not only is it leagues worse than the rest of the show, it spoils so many details about the story's endgame that it might just ruin the experience outright if you're not careful. You've been warned.

Mushoku Tensei Season 2 Part 2: 1.5/10

Is the second part of Mushoku Tensei season 2 as apocalyptically awful as the first part? Not quite, no. But that's only because Rudeus doesn't do anything quite as jaw-dropping as buying a child slave or kidnapping and molesting a pair of catgirls with no consequences. I know, the bar is in fucking hell and this garbage fire still barely managed to stumble over it. Otherwise, it remains every bit as vile as always. Here's a fun drinking game you can play: take a shot every time someone this season 1) makes excuses to justify why Rudeus shouldn't feel bad about doing something awful, 2) praises Rudeus to high heaven and calls him the most specialest boy ever, 3) falls head over heels for Rudeus in a matter of seconds. You'll likely pass out before you're halfway through the season, but on the plus side that means you won't have to watch any fucking more. I simply remain baffled that so many people have been fooled into thinking this show is something meaningful and smart, how many people ignore its glaringly obvious awfulness to pretend it's saying things it's not actually saying and exploring ideas it's not actually exploring. All I can do is wait impatiently for Re:Zero's return later this year so it can smack everyone senseless with a reminder of what challenging, subversive isekai storytelling actually looks like. Maybe then we'll finally be able to recognize this steaming pile of misogyny and rape culture for what it is and cast it out without a second thought. We can only hope.

Urusei Yatsura Season 2 (2nd Half): 4.5/10

I think I've given Urusei Yatsura a fair shake. I've done my best to enjoy it through its weaker moments and painfully obvious crows' feet. But now that it's finally over, all I can think is maybe it was better off left in the past. There are infinitely better screwball comedies that have come since, comedies that have been building off the tropes Urusei Yatsura established and finding much more interesting, meaningful things to do with them. This may be a foundational rom-com text, but fifty goddamn years later all its best qualities have been improved upon to the point of obsolescence, and all that's really left is the gross, dated stuff and the fact that every time it tries to be sincere and sentimental it runs into the unavoidable problem that all the romantic relationships its built on really kind of suck. Sorry, but Ataru and Lum are an awful couple and all the worst parts of this show are when it unironically tries to make you root for them despite them being pretty blatantly terrible for each other. I'll stick with Inuyasha, thank you very much.

Wind Breaker: 5/10

Man, why does every promising modern delinquent anime end up driving itself into a ditch before long? First Tokyo Revengers, then Bucchigiri, and now Wind Breaker has completed the trifecta. And this one had so much potential! Casting a shoujo-style blushy tsundere bad boy as the protagonist of an otherwise straightforward tough-guy action brawler is one of the most inspired strokes of genius I've seen in a long time (let alone getting the Kyo Sohma's VA to voice him). What better way to explore the emotional human side of delinquent storytelling than with a main character who's arc is all about accepting other people and learning to love himself despite the world's rejection of him? That plus a slick production full of badass fistfights should've been an easy recipe for success. Unfortunately, it falls victim to the most common of shonen death knells: getting stuck in an overlong, dragged-out arc that consists of nothing but uninteresting fights against half-baked antagonists that loses sight of what made this series unique until its final moments. And double minus points for entirely taking place in a single visually dull location that you're forced to stare at for like 5 episodes straight with occasional flashbacks as your only escape. Seriously, you could cut the Shishitoren arc to half its current length and lose very little of value. I can only hope the upcoming second season won't get similarly bogged down, cause a good version of this show is something I desperately want to believe is possible.

Konosuba Season 3: 5.5/10

So here's the good news first: Despite a seven year gap since the second season and a change in studio, Konosuba's third season is still every bit the same show it was. As for the bad news... well, the bad news is that Konosuba's third season is still every bit the same show it was. Yeah, in the years since I first watched it, I've had to really reckon with all the ways this show fucking sucks, and all of those reasons remain on full display undimmed by the passage of time. It's sexist, it's objectifying, it's violently queerphobic, it thinks sexual assault is the funniest thing ever when Kazuma's the one doing it, it's every bit as misogynistic and masturbatory as the isekai genre it's supposedly satirizing. And it's also still one of the funniest goddamn anime ever made when it wants to be. Seriously, if you just strip away all the godawful incel-pandering that's seemingly endemic to modern isekai, Konosuba's god-tier expression work and pitch-black sarcasm are a blast of laughing gas like nothing else in its vicinity. If it could just focus on telling actual jokes instead of passing off alt-right sexual politics as "comedy" half the time, it would more than deserve its status as a modern classic. But it won't, because it genuinely believes all that garbage is the funniest shit ever. Which is why it'll forever be stuck as a show that you can never admit to enjoying in public without being justifiably judged by everyone around you.

Train to the End of the World: 5.5/10

It's kind of impossible to describe what Train to the End of the World is about without sounding like you're flipping through ten different plot summaries and choosing words at random. But here's as best I can: a freak accident causes the world to morph into a surreal patchwork of bizarre locales, while also seemingly reducing the scope of the world to a single train line in Japan stretching between rural town Agano and Tokyo's metropolitan Ikebukuro district. When Agano high-schooler Shizuru finds evidence that her long-lost friend Yoka might be trapped in Ikebukuro- and also maybe related to the reason everything went insane- she hops on an abandoned train car with a few friends and a dog and starts the long, long journey to reach Ikebukuro through the madness and chaos that defines the new world. The best I can explain it is Gullliver's Travels by way of Alice in Wonderland and Salvador Dali, each episode taking us to another stop on the train line that's morphed into its own flavor of batshit crazy, from mushroom people to horny zombies to a post-canon bad end magical girl world. Unfortunately, any semblance of a point feels buried under a thousand tons of calcified absurdism too thick for anything resembling sincerity to peek through. There are attempts at exploring deeper themes or character moments, but the show's pace is so blisteringly fast and so deeply uninterested with anything beyond what wild ideas it can pull out of its hat that nothing really sticks by the time the train's rolling on to its next destination. If there's anything here beyond a series of wacky Moments(tm) delivered with the rushed breathlessness of a Youtube video on 2X speed, I can't say it made an impression.

Tonari no Youkai-san: 5.5/10

I'm of two minds about Tonari no Yokuai-san. On the one hand, it's a deeply heartfelt iyashikei that uses its fantasy elements to explore grief, loss, love, community, and the reasons we celebrate life even knowing it must one day end. This town of humans and spirits living side-by-side feels so real and warm you wish you could live there yourself, and the characters populating it, from earnest nekomata to old gay cars to prickly fox spirits and everyone in between, burst with inner life so naturally it almost makes you jealous. On the other hand, for some baffling reason, this show keeps trying to shoehorn in action plots and sci-fi elements that gel with the quiet, contemplative tone as well as oil and water. I genuinely don't understand why the author thought they needed time-space bureaus and giant rampaging snakes to liven things up when just the main character going through an existential crisis about how they're going to outlive everyone they love is ten thousand times more gripping than any of that other nonsense. On the bright side, the good stuff is still really good, and considering how few of you likely watched this show already, let this be your reminder this your reminder not to let it slip through the cracks.

Go Go Loser Ranger: 6/10

Is the idea of a dark, edgy twist on tokusatsu where the protagonist is a nameless minion trying to overthrow a fascist cabal of sentai rangers that unique? Not really, no. But god damn if Go Go Loser Ranger doesn't make it work regardless. There's something just inherently fun about watching one of those nameless background mooks that normally exist just to get punted en masse decide "You know what? I'm done being the world's punching bag. I'm gonna become the protagonist of my own story and take these fuckers down." We've all rooted for the underdog at some point, after all. It's only fair the most disposable fodder get a chance in the spotlight. And Go Go Loser Ranger delights in twisting that setup as far as it can get away with, constantly making you second-guess your allegiances to any one side as it quickly becomes clear there are no true heroes to root for in this world, just lots of different people flawed in very different ways, all fighting for their own personal gain. You're never quite sure when someone you're rooting for is going to break your trust with some horrific act, or someone you loathe is going to prove themselves more courageous than they first let on, and it keeps you on the edge of your seat waiting to see when the next shoe's going to fall. Sadly, it also suffers from Wind Breaker's mistake of spending too much time on an overlong arc that's mostly just dull characters fighting in a duller location, but by the end it's shaken off those doldrums and returned to form in a big way. As long as the second season can keep those gears turning, we're in for a good time.

Spice and Wolf Reboot (1st Cours): 6/10

Let's be blunt: there is no point to remaking Spice and Wolf. The original series is still just as good fifteen years later, and despite the source material continuing past the point it ended, it reached such a beautiful conclusion on its own terms that it more than cemented its status as a true eternal anime classic. Sure, it's nice to experience this story again, to re-aquaint myself with Holo and Lawrence's wonderful chemistry and the fascinating ins and outs of Medieval economics that drive their story. There's a reason I fell in love with this show so many years ago, and Reboot Wolf still has plenty of that charm to go around. But this isn't a re-imagining or a Brotherhood/Froobs 2019 style "proper" adaptation. This is just the same show again but a little bit worse in every way. All I can think of, watching this story I know play out again, is how much stiffer and generic the modern art direction and animation is, how it plays things so much safer with its source material while the original wasn't afraid to make strong changes, how Holo's prickly personality has been neutered into a much more docile, Lawrence-dependent character while the original stood so strong on her own two feet. Maybe it works well enough if this is your first taste of Spice and Wolf, but then, the original show is right there! You could just watch that instead and get a much better experience all around!

Yuru Camp Season 3: 6.5/10

Speaking of shows that are probably pointless, was there really any need for Yuru Camp to continue after the one-two satisfying punch of season 2 and the epilogue movie? Those endings put such a beautiful bow on the series that anything else would feel superfluous. Especially with such a massive downgrade in the art direction department, Jesus Christ. I don't know who's running studio 8bit's compositing department these days, but between this and the latest Yama no Susume season, it's so painful to see a studio that once excelled at background art reduced to putting filters over photographs and awkwardly slapping ill-fitting moeblob characters on top. The clash between the characters and the backgrounds this season is legitimately painful at times, and for a vibes-based iyashikei like Yuru Camp, that could so easily be a death knell. Thank the gods, then, that most of this series' charm still comes through in spite of itself, the wonderful characters and delightfully daffy comedy still as strong as ever as it extols the virtues of finding your peace in the great outdoors. But if we're going to get any more, then please figure out how to make this new aesthetic not so physically repellent to look at.

Kaiju No. 8: 7/10

I've said many times that the art of making a Good Enough show is more complicated than most people appreciate. It takes so much skill and talent, so much mastery of the basic building blocks of storytelling, to create something that's just fun to watch plain and simple. And Kaiju No. 8 is yet another example of how impressive it is when one of these shows gets it right. It's a simple, straightforward action show about an over-the-hill sanitation worker getting one last chance to live his dream as a member of the elite kaiju-slaying force that keeps the world safe from the towering monsters that menace it... by accidentally becoming part kaiju himself. The characters are simple but lovable, the emotional stakes are earnest without being overbearing, the action is consistently exciting and well-animated, and the story keeps you on your toes with well-worn tropes executed in novel and exciting ways. I honestly don't think I've seen a shonen action romp so perfectly nail its fundamentals like this since the early days of My Hero Academia. Whether or not this show will also rise to MHA's eventual level of complexity and thematic weight remains to be seen, but for now, it's just plain fun, and an easy recommendation to anyone looking for a good time.

Delicious in Dungeon (2nd Cours): 7.5/10

Well, I asked for Dungeon Meshi to get darker, and by god, that's exactly what it did. Through shocking plot turns and deeply disquieting thematic touches, this silly little fantasy cooking comedy has developed into something much more sinister and unsettling... while still being primarily a silly fantasy comedy about cooking D&D monsters into mouthwatering meals. I'm still not sure if the tonal whiplash entirely works, but my god does it make this a fascinating show to watch. A single episode can take you from some of the most gut-busting deadpan snark this side of Gintama to a skin-crawling contemplation on mortality and consuming life to perpetuate your own without missing a beat. Turns out, Dungeon Meshi has thoughts on the nature of food as a biological, societal and cultural force, and how that force is not always as simple or benign as a meal shared with friends and family. And it explores those ideas with a quiet dread that makes even its silliest moments feel like a tentative breath before things come crashing down. I have no idea how things will shake out in the second season, but if manga fans are to be believed, it's only going to get more twisted and insane from here. I cannot fucking wait. Just, can Falin stay on screen for more than a single episode without being kidnapped again this time? Girl's such a damsel in distress even Princess Peach is giving her concerned looks.

Jellyfish Can't Swim in the Night: 7.5/10

There is no feeling quite like being a young artist. You're excited to make your mark, painfully anxious about not measuring up while simultaneously being quite full of yourself, bursting with ideas and not quite sure how to execute them, but above all else, in love with the act of creation. And I don't think I've ever seen an anime that so perfectly embodies that messy, beautiful spirit as Jellyfish Can't Swim in the Night. Four girls from different artistic backgrounds- an artist, a singer, a musician, and a tech wiz- come together as one to give each other the strength they lack on their own, forming the musical group JELEE as they strive to love themselves and their work through the magic they make together. It's an explosion of passion and joy, often times outstripping its ability to measure up to its ambitions and stumbling over itself, but always shining, always dazzling, always wearing its heart firmly on its sleeve as it celebrates the joy of creation in the digital age and the importance of sincerity in a world too afraid of cringe to accept it. It's also a wonderfully capital-P Progressive series; there's a gay kiss, one character is eventually revealed to be nonbinary in a scene so spectacular I wish I could bump my score up another half-point for it alone. Sadly, it only reaches those heights every so often- but when it does, my god is it a sight to behold.

Girls Band Cry: 8/10

I remember back when I watched Love Live Sunshine, I wished there was a girls' music anime where the protagonists sung the kind of badass punk rock usually reserved for the antagonists of idol shows. Well, it looks like writer Jukki Hanada and director Kazuo Sakai heard me, because five years after bidding Sunshine farewell, they're returned with one of the most exhilarating, renegade expressions of punk spirit we've gotten in a long time. Girls Band Cry is a supernova, a soaring firecracker of a show that marries an instantly iconic headbanger soundtrack with Hanada's typically spectacular character writing in this tale of five outcasts forming a band and coming together to spit in the face of the world that tried to grind them into conformity. Nina Iseri's arrogant, self-righteous immaturity is a primal scream for the importance of doing what's right over what's easy, and you feel that scream in your fucking soul. Even the show's scrappy CG animation embodies that non-comformist spirit, charting stunning new avenues for 3D anime with some of the most expressive character models and soaring concert scenes you're likely to see all decade. And while the pacing is definitely rushed at points, the overwhelming emotions bleeding from each and every scene make even the weakest moments go down easy. It's downright criminal Toei fumbled the ball on an official English release, but unless you're completely against sailing the high seas, you owe it to yourself to track it down regardless. So raise your middle fingers to the sky, spill your heart from your chest, and let Togenashi Togeari force you to believe in the power of rock all over again.

Dropped:

-Bartender Drops of God (3 Episodes). Too boring to stick with in a pretty packed season.

-A Condition Called Love (3 Episodes). Creepy possessiveness excused for the sake of romance.

Blue Archive (1 Episode). Do you even need to ask.

-The Many Sides of Voice Actor Radio (2 Episodes). Awful adaptation that butchers what made the manga so great.

-Whisper Me a Love Song (9 Episodes). The production falls completely apart and it skips the main couple's first kiss. Just read the manga, it's really damn good and deserved so much better.

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