#I don't even know what to call this style

[ckret2]

Chapter 84 of human Bill Cipher getting a day pass out of being the Mystery Shack's prisoner: so it turns out Bill and Pacifica have a lot in common! And it's not weird at all! It's—it's very normal. Their childhoods were so normal.

(Since this entire chapter is from the point of view of a character who doesn't know the person she's talking to is Bill, a PSA for those of y'all who missed it. Thanks.)

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"Okay, that's as much as I can do to help your hair without deep conditioning it," Pacifica said. "Now let's talk about styling it."

They were back in Pacifica's office, with Goldie seated in his folding chair and Mabel sitting in Pacifica's desk chair (slowly spinning it back and forth) as Pacifica lectured them. Pacifica had given Goldie a spare t-shirt to dry his hair with (you could never have too much spare clothing on hand when you were dealing with farm animals), but he'd just loosely wrapped it around his hair and promptly ignored it.

Pacifica said, "You've got this issue where the weight of your curls pulls the top of your hair down and makes it flatten out near your scalp—but your hair's all the same length, so it really flares out near your shoulders. It's called triangle hair and it is not a cute look."

Goldie and Mabel bit their lips and exchanged a look, and Pacifica got the distinct impression that she'd accidentally reminded them about some inside joke she wasn't part of.

Trying to ignore the feeling that she was being left out of something, Pacifica cleared her throat and went on. "So, uh—you can fix it with like, layering your haircut and stuff? But. I don't actually... know how to do that." All her knowledge of curly hair and its care—much less fashionable haircuts—came from fashion and beauty magazines, which covered things like shampoo and flattering styles but assumed you'd leave the actual hair-cutting to the professionals. "So. I can get your curls presentable, and I guess we can figure out a way to pin it that looks nice? But that's the best I can do without an emergency salon trip."

"You sure we can't leave the triangle hair?" Goldie asked innocently. "I think it's cute. It really feels like me." Mabel clapped a hand over her mouth and snorted.

Pacifica raised her brows. "Do you want to feel like you, or do you want to get the guy?"

"Right, of course," Goldie said. "I almost forgot what's really important!"

Pacifica passed Goldie her phone. "Here—I wasn't sure what kind of look you were going for so I saved a few pictures of curly hair styles, let me know if you like any of these." She searched through the collection of makeup on her desk for the bobby pins and hair ties she'd picked up earlier. "The trend this year is for slicked-back styles, braids, and buns—but your curls are so pretty, I'd hate to hide them." 

Mabel leaned halfway across the desk to try to see the pictures too; Goldie's held out the phone to meet her halfway as as he scrolled—and scrolled, and scrolled, and scrolled. He said, "Good job narrowing down the list to a modest two hundred pictures."

Pacifica said, "Excuse me for wanting you to have options."

Mabel pointed. "Awww, look at that one with all the little butterfly hair clips!"

"It's like butterflies are eating her brain."

"And they look adorable doing it."

"Too juvenile for me. It looks like something Prisma the fairy would wear," Goldie said. "You should wear it."

Mabel's eyes lit up. "You've got to help me make fifty butterfly hair clips."

"You got it." He closed out of Pacifica's pictures, opened up the browser, and awkwardly typed in a search. "Hey, Alpaca, look at this one."

That was the second time he'd called her that. "Do you actually know my name?"

"Rapunzel." He held up a picture of some seventies movie star with thick, feathery hair that fluffed out around her face like the wings of a panicked swan trying to take off. "Think you can pull this one off?"

Pacifica grimaced. "You'd look like my mom." Except even worse and more old fashioned. (She kept that part to herself.)

Flatly, he said, "Oh no, how will I ever convince a male that I'm a prize worth winning if I literally look like a trophy wife."

That would be just about the only part of Goldie that looked like a trophy wife. (She kept that part to herself too.) "And we'd have to give you bangs."

As she suspected, Goldie grimaced and flipped to another image. At least he knew bang weren't for him. "How 'bout this one?"

It looked like a solid helmet of hair, with the ends uniformly curled outward like the embarrassing forced-whimsical hairstyle of the minions of an insane chocolatier. "Ew. That's about the only thing that could make you look even worse than you already do."

"Pacifica," Mabel said sharply. "Be nice!"

"Sorry!" She'd kept so many parts to herself that she didn't have any spare room to keep that part. "I can't do it, anyway. It would need a flat iron and a curling iron, and I don't have either."

"Can't we get some?" Goldie asked. "Any drug store should have 'em, it's a fifteen minute walk to—"

"I don't use them," Pacifica said sharply.

Goldie's stare was like a heat lamp—or maybe that was just self-consciousness heating up Pacifica's face as he scrutinized her. But after several long seconds, Goldie's gaze turned off her face. She quietly sighed in relief.

"Okay," he said. "Then this one." He showed her another picture. It had curly shoulder-length bangs, which wasn't really in style but fine, but behind them was a bouffant shaped like a deflating basketball with a wilting palm tree sprouting out of it.

Pacifica cringed. It was, unfortunately, doable. A note of pleading in her voice, she asked, "Are you really into this look? Really?"

("I think it's pretty," Mabel muttered.)

"Oh, no way!" Goldie said. "Look at that mess! That's way too much effort for a 'do that looks like she did it drunk in the dark in under two minutes."

(Mabel looked at Goldie like he'd personally betrayed her.)

"But," he went on, "it's what our guy is into, and that's what matters here. Right?"

Pacifica studied the picture dubiously. "You're sure?"

"He went through puberty in the 70s! When his libido opened its eyes for the first time, this is what it imprinted on."

Pacifica bit her lip. Well. At least Goldie didn't think it looked good, but. "Can I at least improve it a little?"

"Oh, please!"

She picked up the comb again and grabbed a couple of bobby pins. "No promises, but I'll do what I can."

Pacifica talked a big game, but in truth, she knew a lot more about the theory of hairstyles than she did about actually styling hair. You don't have to film a blockbuster to be a film critic. So at that point, all she could do was experiment with Goldie's hair as she attempted to approximate the picture he'd shown her. She circled around him as she worked—putting in pins, taking them out, occasionally asking him his opinion.

But although Goldie had previously been a non-stop chatterer, the moment she'd started working on his hair, he'd fallen silent.

He only glanced in the hand mirror she'd given him when she prompted him, and then only to give one-word answers—usually "fine." His shoulders were as tense and his mouth as tight as Pacifica's had been the first time she had to wash alpaca poop off the bottom of a boot. And Pacifica had nearly vommed, so, that was pretty serious.

Why? It couldn't be pain. Pacifica had gotten all the knots out of his hair earlier—and even when she wasn't using the comb, it was like she couldn't even move a lock of his hair without him wincing. She kept wanting to apologize even though she was just doing what he wanted her to.

There was something going on here. It wasn't just how uncomfortable he was with being touched. There was also the way he did an awful job of washing his hair even though he knew how to perfectly well. And how he'd rather let Mabel brush his hair into a frizzy mess than comb it out himself. And beyond all that, the first thing Pacifica had ever learned about him was that he'd gotten his hair melted off and needed emergency help to grow it back. "You... really don't like your hair, do you?"

"I like it fine. It's gorgeous." He was speaking through gritted teeth, and he had his legs crossed with his feet under his thighs, palms up in lap, eyes fixed on the blanket Mabel had made, as though having a staring contest with the triangle creep would help him endure the torture without flinching. "I just—don't like messing with it."

"Which is fine," Mabel cut in. "Because I like brushing it!" She quickly amended herself: "Combing it. We've got like a symbiotic relationship going on."

"Yeah! Star girl's my personal stylist! She does my hair and makeup. I wouldn't deprive her of that honor!"

Pacifica nodded slowly. Right—all that, and he was defensive about not taking care of it.

Not embarrassed because he didn't take care of it, it dawned on her; embarrassed because he couldn't take care of it. She had a sense for those sorts of things—a middle school queen bee had to develop that sense���because that was what you targeted if you really wanted to humiliate someone: something that they couldn't help. That was it, wasn't it? He'd said he was apathetic about his body; he didn't care that his hair was messy. Because if he did care that it was messy, he would have done something about it. Unless he couldn't. Like, a mental block.

As she tried for the eighth time to gather the bulk of his hair into an updo that looked sorta fun and casual without looking stupid, she turned over everything she knew about him—about his hair, his apathy, his shame... the things he'd said to her the moment they met, before they even got started.

It wasn't a logical deduction so much as it was an instinct, and just looking at Goldie it seemed impossible; but still she said, hesitantly, "Your mom made you do pageants as a kid, didn't she?"

Mabel sat up a little straighter, confused; but Goldie turned around to stare at her, dumbfounded. "How— What—makes you think that?"

Oh please. He wasn't fooling anyone, it was all over his face. "You're so weird about your hair. It's obviously trauma from your mom."

Beneath his sunburn, Goldie's burned cheeks somehow managed to flush even darker. He gaped at her, wide-eyed and terrified, like she was a psychic who had just told him how his own parents had died. He croaked, "What?"

Pacifica burst out laughing. "Oh my gosh, you should see your face! Listen, you're clearly familiar with pageant life. And I saw so many curly girls getting their hair mauled by their moms half an hour before going on stage. I don't blame you for being weird about touching it! I had it easy—" she flipped her naturally straight hair, "—but even at that, I can't stand using a flat iron to this day."

Goldie relaxed, apparently reassured that Pacifica hadn't read his mind. He settled back in his seat. "Oh, I dunno, I find the smell of burning hair comforting! It reminds me of home!"

"Ha! Okay, yeah, you do get used to it after a while." She started attempt number nine to gather up his curls. "I wouldn't have guessed when you came in. You don't look like a... I mean... you know. No offense."

"Well, duh, you can't tell now." He gestured at himself, "I lost my good looks. What I wouldn't give to have my old body back..." He sighed wistfully.

Pacifica held back a snort. Oh yeah. More than anything else he'd said so far, that convinced her he really was a former pageant kid. In her experience, every single pageant mom trying to relive her own beauty queen glory days through her daughter said things exactly like that.

Mabel said, "Aww..." She stretched a hand out toward Goldie, couldn't reach him across Pacifica's enormous desk, and with a grunt heaved herself up to lay across the top—knocking over a couple of the cosmetic supplies Pacifica had set up in the process—so she could pat his shoulder. "There, there."

"Thanks."

She slid back into her seat. "Did you really do pageants? You didn't tell me that." A note of betrayal crept into her voice.

"I didn't tell her either—" he jabbed a thumb at Pacifica, "—but here we are!" (Pacifica shrugged unapologetically.) "I've got a lotta backstory you're still catching up on."

"Well, yeah, but—you said you just did..." She grasped for the right words, and settled on, "build-y stuff with pageants."

"I didn't say that," he said breezily. Mabel scowled at him; but shot a look at Pacifica, and just sat back without saying anything, arms crossed, her feet audibly kicking at the inside of the desk. 

He didn't seem as stressed about his hair while he was talking, Pacifica noticed. (Maybe that was why hairdressers were so chatty? Or maybe just because it was kind of weird to stick your hands in someone's hair for an hour in total silence.) She asked, "Which pageant systems did you compete in?"

"None you'd have heard about," Goldie said. "They weren't on this continent and it was like a trillion years ago." Before Pacifica could pry about which continent, he added, "Hey, fun fact! Didja know that the first beauty contest in Oregon was established here in Gravity Falls?"

"Pff, duh, of course I know that," Pacifica said. "It was established by the town founder, my great-great grandpa."

"Close, but no," he said gleefully. "It was established by the real town founder."

Pacifica grimaced. "Him? The crazy undead guy without pants? Ugh, no wonder we're the only pageant with a mandatory bird calls category."

"The first three competitions were actually won by birds! They only added a fashion category to balance out the birds' unfair advantage at birdsong. Quentin resigned from the judges' panel in protest."

"He should've taken the dumb birdsong requirement with him," Pacifica muttered. "They make the kids pageant do it too. I had to get a private tutor to learn how to whistle."

"That sounds fun, though," Mabel said. "I can do bird song! Grunkle Ford taught me some. Listen to this!" She let out an admittedly impressive moo.

"Not a bad cowl call," Goldie said. "You woulda killed it at the accompanying bird costume requirement."

Mabel gasped. "I can make feather wings. Hey, do you think I could compete?"

"Not unless you move to Oregon."

"Aww."

"We can still make wings, though," Goldie said.

Pacifica had never had to deal with the dumb bird costume requirement, thank goodness. That only started in the teen brackets. Which made her wonder—"How old were you when you quit? Pretty young, right? Like, no offense, but if you need teenagers to do your makeup..." If Goldie was living as a guy now, it'd make sense if he didn't wear makeup day-to-day; but if he'd stuck with pageants past like age ten, he would have at least learned how to do his own makeup.

"Ha! You're right. I started when I was young enough that my mom could dust glitter on my butt without getting weird looks! I quit around... equivalent to third or fourth grade in the States? She wanted me to keep going—so I said, 'You want me to perform? Fine then—I'll put on the best performance you've ever seen.' And that's exactly what I did!" Thoughtfully, he added, "But for some reason I didn't win the talent portion. I guess the judges weren't impressed that I could play the piano and set it on fire at the same time."

Pacifica cracked up. "Okay wow—I retired during the talent portion too, but how you did it is way more exciting. The year I was aging out of the 9-11 bracket, I kinda had a meltdown on stage over losing to some girl with a hula hoop? Yeah, I did not win supreme that year."

"You shoulda won talent just for that scream! You hit some impressively high notes." At Pacifica's odd look, Goldie said, "Saw it online."

Figured. That was probably coming back to haunt her in ten years. "It's weird. There's like... two ways pageant girls go—er, girls or guys or... whatever."

"Whatever," Goldie agreed.

"Yeah. Either they make it part of their identity? And keep up the makeup and fashion and everything, sometimes stick with pageants as teens or start modeling professionally? Which is what I did. Or they totally burn out, don't want anythingto do with the beauty industry, and just, like, wear sweats forever."

With a faint air of wounded pride, Goldie said, "It's the bedsheet sarong, isn't it."

"No offense! I'm just saying."

"I'll have you know it's laundry day and Jesús stole my clean clothes instead of my dirty laundry." (Pacifica decided to forgive him for the weird fish smell.) "You're looking at me at a low point, kid. I was actually a pretty snappy dresser up until... lllast summer."

Hearing Goldie call her kid gave Pacifica a little jolt of surprise. For a moment, she'd forgotten she was talking to somebody with an age; she'd started to feel like she was being visited by the immortal Spirit of Washed-Up Former Pageant Children. As if he'd died and stopped aging the same time he retired. "What happened last summer?"

Goldie looked at Mabel. "Yeah, what did happen last summer?"

"Um." Mabel froze. "He... lost it all in a... um... overseas parrot circus venture! Yeah—all the trained parrots escaped before the opening night of the circus and he lost all his money."

Goldie let out a shrill cackle. "I like that, I'm keeping that."

Okay, got it, it wasn't any of Pacifica's business. "I think... this is the best I can do with your hair." She stepped back. "Unless you want to pick a style that doesn't suck."

He gave himself a cursory glance in the hand mirror, immediately lowered it, and said, "Sucky style's fine!"

"Don't say that, you look so beautiful," Mabel said. "You look like a babysitter!"

"Well, it doesn't get much better than that." He dropped the mirror on the desk. "What's next?"

####

Next—finally—was the part they'd actually come here for: the makeup.

"Okay, I tried to get around the eyepatch while I was doing your hair, but you've got to take it off for this part," Pacifica said.

He groaned, but muttered, "Fine, I've put up with this tyranny so far," removed it, and looked at her with his previously-covered eye squinted against the light—which was the point at which Pacifica realized that he had eyepatch tan lines... around his other eye. How???

There was no fixing that before tomorrow. She bit her lips, shut her eyes, pressed her hands together, and took in a deep breath. Okay. She could handle this.

"Why do you even wear this?" She tossed the eyepatch to Mabel—it was one of those cheap costume pirate-y looking patches. "Is this one of the Mystery Shack's gimmicky touristy things? Both your eyes work! And wearing an eyepatch when you obviously don't need it is just tacky."

"I've got a neurological condition! Seeing through two eyes messes up my depth perception," Goldie said. "I get migraines if I don't keep one covered! Which is admittedly the most fun thing you can do to your brain without involving narcotics, but it makes it hard to keep down lunch!"

"Oh," Pacifica mumbled. Maybe she should just get to work before she shoved her foot any deeper in her mouth.

She started by slapping aloe vera on as much sunburned skin as she could reach, handed over the jar with strict instructions to apply more in the morning, and gave him an emphatic lecture on sunburns and sunscreen and skin damage that petered out when he cheerfully started telling her about skin cancer statistics. She changed the topic when he started listing his favorite kinds of skin cancer.

She stripped off the nail polish that Goldie had apparently gotten during one of Mabel's sleepovers, and repainted it with, at Pacifica's insistence, something more "mature." (She vetoed Mabel's suggestion to paint little hearts. She vetoed Goldie's request for gold. She gave him the choice between white French tips, pale pink, or solid red. He chose red.)

She hadn't anticipated that her customer would be in such dire straits that she'd need to shave him, so she didn't have any supplies for that; but she also ordered him to get his legs as smooth as the surface of a balloon as soon as he got home—"And do you think there's any chance this guy you're after will see your pits?" "He already has!" "Hm. Okay. Yeah, uh, get those anyway."—and informed him that she would report him to the police for vandalism if he "shaved" using whatever depilatory cream he'd previously used on his hair.

As she finished plucking his brows, she said, "Okay, I think you're finally in decent enough condition for actual makeup." She stepped back, took in his face, and said, "Barely." She grimaced. "I wish I'd bought a concealer with better coverage. I didn't know the situation was so bad."

To his credit, Goldie had taken her criticism (and occasional looks of horror) like a champ. He simply drawled, amused, "The body rituals of the Nacirema are as elaborate as they are bizarre."

She picked up a couple of the foundations she'd bought and held them up next to the eye that had been protected by the eyepatch tan line, trying to determine which one was a closer match for whatever his skin tone was when he wasn't burned. "Who're the Nacirema? One of the tribes that used to live around here?"

"They're still in the area. Look 'em up."

Pacifica thought the darker foundation was closer; she tested it on his inner arm to be sure. "So, how much makeup do you already know how to apply? Any?"

"I can do mascara, eyeliner, and mascara."

"Riiight. Okay, both of you pay attention to what I'm doing." She evicted Mabel from her desk chair and dragged it around in front of Goldie's folding chair. "Because I will not be coming over to do this tomorrow, so the two of you will have to repeat this yourself. Here." She handed Goldie a mirror so he could watch her work.

Mabel hopped up to sit on the desk next to Goldie. "You have one hundred percent of my attention!" She immediately looked away from Pacifica at the makeup brushes laid out on the desk, picked up a fan brush curiously, and started dragging it up and down her arm. "Ooh. Tickly." 

"Emphasize my eyes," Goldie said. "They're my best feature. You can forget about everything else, but my eyes have to look good."

Pacifica looked at his eyes. Pacifica really looked at his eyes.

There was something wrong with his eyes.

She decided to stop looking at his eyes. "Okaaay, great great great, you've got suuuper long lashes, that's fantastic. We can totally draw attention there. You don't even need fake lashes. And you've got nice big prominent eyes. Kinda bulgy, but that should be easy to hide with eyeshadow. I'm thinking maybe a smokey eye?"

"What about metallics? Like gold?" Goldie asked innocently. "Kind of a retro 'secret agent villainess' look, don't you think! It'd bring out the yellow in my eyes!"

Pacifica said, "You do not want to bring out your jaundice."

"Don't tell me what I want."

"No gold eyeshadow," Pacifica said. "Period. If you want to experiment with color, we can try a smoky eye in burgundy. Burgundy is hot this year."

Goldie muttered something about welcoming a bottle of burgundy right now, then said, "Fine! Burgundy."

(As Pacifica looked through her makeup palettes for the burgundy, Bill leaned over to Mabel and whispered, "Do we have any leftover gold eyeshadow?" Mabel nodded and winked. Bill winked back.)

"What about the rest of your face?"

"Skip it."

"I'm not letting you go bare-faced aside from your eyes," Pacifica said. "But we can do a natural makeup look."

"That's so boring," Mabel said. She was dragging the fan brush over her lips now. "If it looks natural why's he wearing any makeup at all?"

Goldie said, "Because humans are insane about the most uninteresting things."

As Pacifica worked her way through the foundation, concealer—she decided his sunburned skin had enough of a sun-kissed glow that she could skip bronzer—and contouring, she said, "You are... really good at holding still when you try." He'd gone completely still, like a statue. A statue that was making direct eye contact with her soul. She felt a bead of sweat slide down her neck. She wasn't sure he was breathing.

"He's super good," Mabel agreed. "It's kinda creepy."

"Thanks!" And just like that, he was smiling and alive again. "I do a lot of meditating! Gimme a focal point to watch and I can go like two billion years!"

"You didn't learn from...?"

"Pageants? Ha! No way, I was the wiggliest little demon you've ever seen. It drove my mom nuts when she was trying to do my lashes. She used to say 'If you love me, hold still' to keep me in place—but you know how contrary kids are when they're mad! Eventually I got fed up and said, 'Well then, maybe I don't love you!' And she didn't speak to me for three days." Goldie laughed. "Ahh, I had the most dramatic mom."

"Wow, my mom would kill me if I ever tried something like that—especially if it was in public where people could see us," Pacifica said. "She hired makeup artists so I'd struggle against them instead of her. Your mom did your makeup? Did she ever hire anyone?"

"Nooo way. We ran our operation on a razor-thin budget to maximize the profits from my winnings. The name of the game was efficiency!"

"My mom's sure wasn't," Pacifica said. "(Shut your right eye, I've got to get your eyeshadow.) We went through like, fifty makeup artists or something. Sometimes more than one while prepping for the same pageant." She lowered her voice a tad, "A couple times when the makeup artist was a creep, I messed up my own makeup just so Mom would fire them."

"Ha! Suckers. Yeah, that's probably how it woulda gone if my mom had handed me off to a makeup artist. I was not afraid to sic her on adults! We didn't have any hired help when I was that age, but the principal was terrified of her. And if another kid at a competition was getting on my nerves, I'd go crying to her that they pushed me and oh, man, she'd come down on their parents like the asteroid on Chicxulub."

"Me too! There was this girl in third grade who was so... I don't know, just—" she pulled a face, "eugh, you know? I complained to mom about her and got her family blacklisted by the whole town. They had to move out of the state just to get a job."

Goldie laughed loudly. "Now that is impressive!"

Pacifica's gut shifted uncomfortably. Was it? "Other eye now." She didn't speak for a moment as she tried to get both eyes matching. "Actually... it was... kinda scary?"

She'd asked her mom if she could puh-lease get this girl out of Pacifica's class. She'd just expected the girl to be switched to another teacher.

Instead, over the next few weeks, she heard about the girl's mother losing her job, then her father. Her older brother got kicked out of the local Future Lumberjacks of America chapter. One day the girl came to school in tears after being cut from the softball team. A couple months later, the girl's friends—the two that hadn't drifted away from her as her family became pariahs—threw her a tearful goodbye party during lunch with a mall-bought cookie cake; and the next day, she was gone forever.

After that first time Pacifica had complained about her classmate, her mom had never once mentioned the girl or her family. She never asked if Pacifica had any more trouble with her. Not even when they left town. It was as though, after her mom ground them under her heel, they were beneath her notice. Just four crushed ants.

But Goldie was staring at her, frowning in confusion, like she didn't make any sense. "What—scary for the other kid?" he asked. "Sure. It's supposed to be, isn't it?"

Pacifica didn't reply for a second. I'm afraid of how good she was at doing exactly what I asked her to do without realizing I was asking for it—that sounded stupid. Finally, she said, "Don't wrinkle your face like that, I haven't set your foundation yet. It'll make it cake up."

"Your moms sound insane," Mabel said. While they'd been swapping stories about their childhoods, she'd been staring at them, chin in one hand, chewing on the fan brush's bristles. "Were you guys tortured growing up?"

"Pfff, what? No, of course not!" Pacifica said. "My parents would never. You've only seen my mom's worst side, she's not really that bad. I mean—not to me. She's horrible to poor people, but that's different."

Goldie said, "Yeah, my mom was my biggest defender! If anyone tried to hold me back, she'd rip them a new one."

"But—forcing you to do pageants until you have a breakdown?" Mabel said, glancing between Goldie and Pacifica, mouth twisting up like the words tasted sour. "Guilting you into wearing makeup and attacking other parents and stuff? That's nuts."

"It's not like that," Pacifica said automatically, then tried to figure out what it was like.

"Now we're calling a kid's temper tantrum a breakdown? You've got a future career in propaganda, star girl," Goldie said wryly. "It's a mom's job to bring out a kid's potential, right? Sure, it drove me nuts at the time—but kids don't want their potential brought out, kids are lazy!" He shrugged, "Yeah, my parents weren't perfect—they didn't really 'get' me, they held me back from reaching my full potential because they couldn't see what it was—but I'd never have gotten on the road to unlocking my potential myself if they hadn't put me on the right path as a kid."

Pacifica nodded. "Totally! That's just normal mom stuff! My parents are exactly the same—they don't get my alpaca business at all—but there's no way I'd be running a business at thirteen if my mom hadn't pushed me to be the best I can be. Or supporting my alpacas through modeling if I hadn't learned how to present myself in the pageant system. Even mini-golf was just a hobby until my parents got me a coach and started taking me to competitions."

"And I wouldn't be the huge success I am today without those early lessons in public speaking!"

Mabel shot Goldie a meaningful look. He pointed at her. "Don't say a word. I've had a bad year, you can't judge me by that. Anyone could've lost their parrots in a freak accident."

"And some kids had it way worse," Pacifica said. "Some parents would hit their kids or scream at them for messing up their routines or getting distracted? Those girls never lasted long, you can tell if a contestant's just going through the motions because she's scared. I was never treated like that. My pageant coach taught my parents to use a 'warning bell,' when they rang it that was my warning to stop goofing off and focus on practicing or listen to them or whatever. They'd pay me in chocolate if I got back in line."

"Ha!" Goldie smacked the desk, "Oh wow, that's hilarious! Pageant coach Pavlov. My parents would have loved that when I was in the toddler competitions."

"Right?!" Pacifica laughed. "Now I'm like, wow, I used to be bribable with a piece of chocolate? Kids are sooo easy to manipulate."

"But hey, it's a good life lesson: the occasional reward and the fear of punishment is a lot more effective at keeping people in line than actual punishments."

Pacifica nodded thoughtfully. "Wow. That's so insightful."

"See?" Goldie beamed at Mabel. "Pageants teach kids all kinds of useful things! Ambition, poise, charisma, self-confidence, social skills..."

She grimaced. "Yeah, but... all the restrictions and pressure and trauma and stuff? That really sounds bad."

"I think you're just bitter that you can't enter the birdsong contest."

She kicked his arm. "I'm serious!"

He pushed back her shoe and waved her off dismissively. "It only sounds bad to you because you were never in the pageant world! It's got its own rituals and expectations, of course it looks weird to outsiders."

"And everyone judges pageants so much more harshly than other competitive sports—which is what pageants basically are," Pacifica said. "Like, pageants and competitive mini-golf took just as much practice, just as much coaching, just as much time and money—but in real life, knowing how to make myself look presentable and talk to adults has helped me way more often than knowing how to knock a ball into a hole. Mini-golf only saved my life once."

"Charisma will get you everywhere," Goldie agreed. "It's the most effective form of mind-control you can do without psychically rewiring someone's neurons."

"Basically! But getting a medal at the Sportlympics has everyone talk about how skilled and hard-working and dedicated you are, and getting a tiara in a national pageant gets people who have never even watched a pageant calling you a bimbo. Like, what?"

"Blatant double standards!" To Mabel, Goldie said, "Both your parents work in Silicon Valley. Their priority is intelligence and grades instead of looks and charisma, so that's why you and your brother get pushed in school—but it's all the same! Parents push their kids to be successful whatever way they know how."

Mabel stared into space. "Huh." She fell silent, gnawing on the fan brush's handle—pondering whether her parents worrying about her so-so grades was comparable to the pageant moms desperate for their daughters' straight hair to be straighter and curly hair to be curlier.

Smugly, Goldie went on, "If anything, the pageant circuit was more useful than school. I—"

"(Stop moving around, I've got to do your other eye.)"

Goldie obediently leaned forward and shut his other eye. "I went from pageants straight into public speaking. I had an entire career before I was out of school. Everyone loved me! I was a natural in the spotlight!"

"Really?" Pacifica said dubiously. She could buy that he might have been a competitor as a kid, but honestly, he seemed pretty creepy to her. Enough confidence could carry you pretty far, but...

He rolled his open eye. "Don't take that tone with me. It was before you were born! And like I said—I've lost my looks. I used to be..."

He trailed off, staring down at his nail polished hands like he didn't recognize them.

He muttered, "I used to be so much better than this."

Mabel reached out and rubbed his upper arm comfortingly.

Sometimes Pacifica caught her mom staring in a mirror, studying her face with an expression somewhere between nervous and depressed, gently touching her fingertips to the thin lines beginning to appear around her eyes and mouth as though she were examining gruesome wounds. Her mother had always said that looks are everything; and even though she didn't talk about her feelings directly, from the way she sometimes snapped at Pacifica to keep up her skincare—moisturizer, sunscreen, hydration, don't frown too hard—Pacifica thought maybe she wasn't worried about Pacifica's face so much as her own.

Goldie only had the faintest traces of the start of wrinkles, unnoticeable if Pacifica hadn't just spent the past few minutes plastering foundation on his face. She wondered how old he was. She wondered whether he had the same fear her mother did: that his body was letting him down, slowly dying all around him.

You don't go through the child pageant world without learning two things: everyone wants you to look and act older than you are; and the older you get, the less anyone wants you.

"I've got to do your lips," Pacifica said, picking out a couple of options: a red so bright it was nearly orange (totally in this year), a nice glossy nude that ought to be a close match to Goldie's natural lip color. "Did you want to stick with the natural look, or...?"

He glanced up from his hands at the offered lipsticks. "What the heck," he sighed. "Let's make it red."

Pacifica nodded. "Pooch your lips out for me, like this." And that was the last they spoke for a while.

####

(Here's your regular TBOB report: no actual plot was changed due to TBOB. I added in a few lines referencing it: the imagery of Priscilla grinding normal people beneath her heel is meant to be reminiscent of Pacifica's giant nightmare on TINAWDC; the "meditating" for specifically two billion years is a direct reference to the barber pole, although I'd already headcanoned that Bill can meditate/dissociate for absolutely vast quantities of time; I already had dialogue where he goes on the importance of charisma and how much everyone adored him as a kid, but I tossed in another sentence or two about charisma just because of how strongly he emphasizes it in TBOB; and originally I had dialogue where Bill went on about what big supporters his parents were, even though he privately feels like they didn't get him—all I changed was deciding to make him admit to some of those feelings out loud, since it's something he says outright in TBOB. I've imagined that he tends to swing between "they were the best/they were the worst" based on how he's feeling at the time with no neutral ground in between—whiiich lines up pretty well with what TBOB gave us.

And unrelated but I spent way too long researching makeup & hair trends in the 70s and in 2013. I had no idea orange lipstick was hot for a while. My idea of doing makeup is painting my nails once every six years.

Hope y'all enjoyed, and I'm looking forward to hearing y'all's thoughts! I've been eager to dive into this aspect of Bill's backstory and Pacifica's POV for a while.)

[covenofagatha]

Psychology Prof!Agatha

I literally can't get this out of my head so wanted to share some thoughts with you all (this also might be super nerdy but I'm obsessed)

Every time you call her mommy and spend hours sucking at her nipples and eating her out (she IS your oral fixation), she tells you that Freud would be rolling in his grave (except it turns her on just as much, if not even more, so what would he say about that?)

When you go for help during office hours for some clarification on projection tests, she shows you cards from the Rorschach Inkblot Test and asks what you see. All you see are vaginas and she proclaims that you must be horny, leading her to fuck you on her desk and then makes you try again. Little do you know, those are her own custom cards that she purposefully made look like that just so she'd have an excuse to fuck you.

When you get to the Behaviorism unit, you're struggling with the types of conditioning.

To demonstrate classical conditioning, she first rubs your clit (unconditioned stimulus) until you get wet (unconditioned response). She then sprays a new perfume (neutral stimulus) over herself and then does the same thing, teasing you until you get wet before fucking you. She repeats it a few times over the next few days, using the same perfume each time. It isn't until a week later in class, when you have a question about the worksheet that you're doing and she bends down over you to look at the paper over her shoulder, that you catch a whiff of her perfume (now the conditioned stimulus). The same perfume she wore before she fucked you each time this past week. Before you even realize it, you're wet and aching and practically dripping onto the seat, suddenly feeling so empty (conditioned response). She chuckles in your ear and you spend the rest of class absolutely dying.

For operant conditioning, you're confused with positive and negative reinforcement, and positive and negative punishment, so she decides to give you another hands-on lesson.

For positive reinforcement, the addition of a positive stimulus to reinforce a behavior, she gives you one orgasm for each hour of studying you do for her test. It's no time at all before you're spending practically the entire day, nose in the textbook, just so she'll touch you. When you get a one-hundred on her next test, she lets you choose one thing to do with her as a reward, which only makes you want to get more perfect scores on her test (you choose to fuck her with a strap and she now also wants you to keep getting perfect scores)

For negative reinforcement, the removal of a negative stimulus to reinforce a behavior, you've been procrastinating on the research project she gave the class and whining about how much work it is. Agatha is completely fed up with the way you've been acting and is annoyed that you won't just do the work, so she tells you that she won't let you cum until you finish it, but she's going to tease you endlessly. The edging is torture so you quickly get it all done before she finally lets you orgasm.

For positive punishment, the addition of an undesired stimulus to curb a behavior, she bends you over mommy's knee and spanks you hard for skipping out on studying to go a party with your friends. Safe to say when you try to sit down the next day and end up almost crying out, you learn your lesson

For negative punishment, the removal of a positive stimulus to curb a behavior, she waits until you've been bratty, after you've been teasing her in class the whole time, giving her fuck-me eyes and crossing and uncrossing your legs to give her a sneak peek of your naked cunt under your skirt. When she's finally able to get her hands on you, she bends you over her desk and fucks you hard and rough and right as you're about to cum, right as you're begging please mommy, she stops and doesn't let you. Your least favorite style of operant conditioning quickly becomes negative punishment but you don't try to tease her in class again.

You understand Behaviorism a lot better now.

[opheliachoi99]

Toothbrush ლ

FEATURING : Reo Mikage, Kunigami Rensuke, Isagi Yoichi, Yukimiya Kenyu, and Nagi Seishiro

ABOUT : You're relationship was like into the point of "What are we?" type. Leaving your toothbrush at their place was their last straw.

note : got really busy because of uni.. But enjoy!!

❥･• Reo Mikage

— Reo was peacefully sleeping on his bed with only boxers on. You, as a cheeky person woke up early and prepped up and slowly left his room, leaving a letter on the pillow you used when you slept next to him.

— Time Skip —

Reo soon opens his eyes, as the sun hits his Iris. He turns to his side, expecting you to be there, but it was an empty spot, leaving Reo sulking.

"She's always like this. Does she even know what are we? Or has she not decided yet..." Reo asked himself, as he sat up from laying in bed. Then he turned to the spot you slept in and saw your letter.

Hey plum head~ I enjoyed last night, I went out early, got some errands to do, see you again anytime ;)

"Tch- reasons." Reo just threw your letter back to his bed and went in to the bathroom to freshen up.

He picked up a toothbrush, as he was gonna start brushing his teeth, he paused and scanned the toothbrush he was holding, it wasn't his..

It was yours.

"Fuck this." He placed your toothbrush and went to grab his phone back in his bedroom, and dialed your number.

...

"Hello? Hey plum head! You called?"

"Fuck this shit, come back here, right. now."

You felt shivers down your spine at his tone "Woah there, what happened? I'm coming back tomorrow to return your sweater dumbass" you teased "No. Now."

You went silent in the end of the line.

"What are we.." He suddenly added.

"What are we? Uhm... Friends?" You awkwardly replied.

"Friends don't do what we do, baby come back please and let's sleep all day. I have enough with this shit." He sighed. Your stomach felt a tingle "B-but I—"

"You left your toothbrush here. Are there other reasons not to come back right now?"

"HUH? I DID? SHIT" You slightly panicked and ended the call.

And a few minutes then, you immediately arrived. "That was quick" Reo smirked as he was sitting on the edge of his bed, still with only boxers on "I- uhm.. Hi?" You said as you slowly took off his sweater.

You got startled as he suddenly stood up and carried you in bridal style and threw you in bed "HEY! WHAT WAS THAT FOR?"

"Stay. I had enough. Everytime I wake up in the morning I couldn't see that ravishing face of yours." He said as he suddenly kissed you "Now, answer me. What are we?"

You just stared at him filled with love in your eyes, and kissed him back, Reo was stunned.

"Guess.. Plum head."

❥･• Kunigami Rensuke

— Kunigami woke up and was about to hug you but, you were no longer there. "The heck?" He said with a bit if frustration in his tone. He sat up and spaced out for a moment and sighed.

"This woman sure knows how to play with me" He let out a cackle, and shook his head as he went to the bathroom.

He then saw your toothbrush. He just scoffed, grabbed his phone and took a picture both of your toothbrushes.

Rensuke : [ sent a photo ] Cute, like a married couple.

As he was about to put his phone down to brush his teeth, he heard a notification from his phone

You : [ HUH— I LEFT MY TOOTHBRUSH?! JUST GREAT- I'm so sorry T-T I'll get it back this Friday ]

Rensuke : [ Nah, now. Let's brush our teeth together ]

You : [ You gotta be fr- ]

Rensuke : [ Sent a photo ] In a few seconds imma dump this in the toilet >:) ]

He noticed you left him on seen, probably so pissed by the situation, he laughed. "That should do the trick."

— Time Skip —

As he finished showering, he suddenly heard someone barging on the door "KUNIGAMI RENSUKE! GET OUT THIS INSTANT!" He chuckled.

"Well it did work" He smirked, as he got out from the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around him "Wha— HEY!! GO CHANGE THE HECK?" He suddenly pounced you, leaving you laying in bed while he was hovering over you.

"Why do always leave me hanging like this.." He spoke as you two had a heavy eye contact "What do you mean?" You got startled as he suddenly kissed you "That."

Your lips suddenly went apart, not knowing what to say. "What are we... I don't want to be like this any longer... The toothbrush was my last straw." He cried.

"I love you!!" You suddenly screamed in his face, leaving him speechless.

"I love you okay!! Damn it.. I thought we're just gonna be friends, I guess we levelled up" You chuckled. He soon scooped you into a hug, and kissed you again.

"FINALLY!! WOOOO!! I CAN FINALLY CONFIRM I AM NO LONGER SINGLE!!" Both of you laughed while still laying in bed.

❥･• Isagi Yoichi

— Isagi woke up as he slowly went to the bathroom being unbothered. But then, he saw your toothbrush next to his. Staring at it for a while, then gasped as he realized.

"SHIT.." Was the word that first came out from his mouth. He quickly went back to the bedroom and saw the bed empty.

"You got to be kidding me.." He grabbed his phone and called you.

"C'mon, pick up the phone..."

...

"Hello? Yoichi?"

He gulped for a second before responding to you at the end of the line. "Where are you..?" He waited for you to reply. "Uhm.. Back home?"

"Oh c'mon, I feel so dumb right now.. Can you come back? It's always like this... You left your toothbrush here"

"Oh shit- REALLY? Can you bring it over?" You pleaded "I could, but I will not." He replied "AW— WHY? Just because it's "only" a toothbrush?"

"I want you to come back here, baby." You went silent.

"B-baby...?! Yoichi.. What's got into you?" "Why stuttering? I said what I said. Now come back, your baby needs you" You sighed "I guess it's time.." You ended the call.

"Huh? Time—?" You left Isagi dumbfounded at what you said.

— Time Skip —

"Yoichi..." You arrived as he stood immediately from bed "PLEASE PLEASE" He suddenly hugged you "Please, don't leave like that next time... You do this every single time..."

"But I thought we're just friends?" You tried to confirm "Do friends kiss each other at night? Make out at nigh—"

"OKAY OKAY I GET IT" You groaned as you stared at Isagi, looking back at you with his boba eyes. "What are we..."

"Okay, maybe I do love you.." "Only maybe?"

"I do. Love you. Yoichi." You sighed, but smiled. "There I said it."

Isagi gave you a peck on the lips "I love you too.. FINALLY I CAN GET TO SAY THAT" He pulled you back to his bed.

"Yoichi... Can you let go— you know what, nevermind, let's rot ourselves in bed the whole day" He hummed as he agreed with your idea. In which you two had closed your eyes and went back to sleep.

❥･• Nagi Seishiro

— Nagi woke up so late, he soon started to stretch his body, but instantly got up from bed because of his leg cramps from stretching.

"Ouch! Ouch!" He groaned. He lazily yawned once again and turned to see an empty space next to him.

"She's gone. Again." He sighed, he stood from his bed and went to the bathroom.

As he was still half asleep, he grabbed your toothbrush by mistake, he noticed beforehand. "This isn't mine.." He paused for a few minutes, he stared at his reflection in the mirror for a while.

"IT'S HERS.." His energy soon boosted through the roof, trying to find his phone. It took him a couple of minutes to notice his phone fell at the corner of his bed, "shit."

He soon tried to call you but didn't respond, leaving him pouting in bed. "She always leaves me like this.." He sighed.

— Time Skip —

You soon decided to return at Nagi's place with a bunch of foods from the convenience store, only to see Nagi laying in bed, staring at the ceiling with zero thoughts.

"Uh... Shiro? Hello? Yoohoo!! Brought breakfast for us— HEY!" He suddenly pulled you back to bed.

"Don't scare me like that again... Leaving without a trace..." He hugged you tightly.

"Uhm.. Shiro you okay? Has something bumped your head? Or are you just hungry?" You asked.

"What are we?" Your eyes widened as he asked the question so randomly "What?"

"I don't need to repeat it.. You heard what I said.." He stared at you blankly. "C'mon. Before I could say something crazy.."

"I.. I.."

"I love you." He whispered.

You froze, "Shiro..." "I love you. Don't leave me again like that please. I'm too lazy to wake up early, please don't leave without me noticing.."

You laughed "Shiro, you're so cute.." You gave him a kiss on the forehead "So was that an 'I love you too'? Hmm?" You chuckled.

"Well, I love you too..." You awkwardly reply "We're official now, you're mine now!" He cuddled you tightly in bed, leaving you feel ticklish. "SHIRO STOP!! IT'S TICKLISH!!" You couldn't stop laughing.

"Leave your toothbrush here so that everyone will know that my future wife is living with me."

"Toothbrush? HUH? I LEFT IT HERE?! "Shh... Let's go back to sleep.." He said as he laid your head in his chest, in which you felt warmth and slowly drifted to sleep, and Nagi lazily spoke with his chasmic voice.

"You can always leave a toothbrush at my place baby."

End.

[jepzer0]

The best quotes from mumbos new episode:

- it is time to craft some hermits

- we've got the world's smallest industrial egg farm

- i don't know what's wrong with me, I'm just really enjoying mass pollution at the moment

- if season 8 was peace, love and plants than season 10 is pollute, poison and plants, industrial power plants of course

- Jill is there to buy everything, if it even looks remotely curious she'll want to buy it, even if it's totally falling apart. Bill is there to make sure it doesn't totally fall apart

- I hope this doesn't break the illusion too much but uh, Ron has no body

- time to kill myself many more times. Wearing many more heads

- now it's time to die a lot. And do you know what the most effective way of dying a lot is. Messaging Geminitay

- I'm not gonna complain about e-girl mumbo

- you're so much more naked

- look gem I was only going for the heads, I didn't know what the bodies were doing, I was only looking at the heads

- you wouldn't kill a child dressed as a dinasaur would you gem - mumbo

I would - gem

- now this one's just called puffa jacket

- you look good in pink

- I was captivated by the handsomeness but no you're right, I don't have a mouth

- you know that did more psychological damage to me than any hit with your sword

- if you kill this guy all of Argentina is gonna come for you

- gangnam style dude

- I can't kill punk babe

- your knees are nude and I hate that sentence

- I'm like a goth icon

- knees are out, strong brows, shoulders are out, you're in danger gem

- have you ever tried to look at your own knees. You don't have them. Crazy

All in all, it was a hilarious episode and I love mumbo

[i-dared-myself]

Skirt War

Requested by anonymous: Could I req a fic with the stray kids' ninth member being put in a short dress/skirt (you know those that don't look like it'll ride up if you move but it does and its annoying af??) for a performance with a dance dance - that she has to move around a lot and then she keeps trying to pull the skirt down but that piece of shit just keeps going back up. And she spends the whole performance playing tug of war with a bunch of fabric trying not to be indecent and humiliated. And backstage she feels shit bc she couldn’t dance well and looked pathetic and she's disappointed and frustrated and embarrassed and yk. Idk if this is understandable anymore

“Wow, Felix,” you say, “you look really good! The stylists worked really hard with this new set of outfits.”

Felix hums his agreement, adjusting his gloves. “Where’s yours?”

You glance down at yourself. You’re still in your normal clothes. “Ah, they haven’t called me back yet. I think they’re finishing with Seungmin now.”

Felix makes a small sound of understanding, reaching up to touch his hair. He stops himself and drags his hand back down to his side. “Should I dye my hair soon?”

You shrug. “Do you want to? Is your hair even alive at this point?”

You hear someone softly call your name, and turn before you head Felix’s response. A staff member is waving you over as Seungmin and Jisung walk by.

“Looking good,” you compliment them, smiling brightly. You’re excited for what you’ll be wearing for the performance.

So you’re handed the set of clothes that you change into. You don’t even get a chance to look at yourself in a mirror before you’re whisked away for makeup and hair.

You eventually step out, joining the others. It seems as if everyone else has finished with their own styling, and everyone looks great.

There’s one tiny little problem, though.

Your tiny little skirt.

Your shirt is amazing, and you can’t disagree with the fact that you look hot in it. But the skirt is as small as they get. You’re amazed that you’re even allowed to wear it.

You’re fairly certain it’ll stay in place during thr performance, but you really don’t want to take chances. So you do an experimental twirl, heart sinking when the skirt instantly flies up.

Hyunjin recoils when he sees you. “What the-“

“Watch it!” Chan warns, narrowing his eyes. He faces you, eyes widening. “Oh. Oh boy.”

You tug the material down, fiddling with it anxiously. “Is it that bad?”

Jeongin is averting his eyes, which does absolutely nothing to make you feel better. “Nope. It’s totally fine.”

“Did they ask you about this?” Minho frowns deeply, glancing out at the crowd between the curtains. The sound check is almost complete, so you’re running out of time to deal with this.

“No. I wasn’t aware that I’d be wearing this.” Your hands tremble. You feel sick with how short it is. You half believe you’re at risk of your most intimate areas just being on display.

Seungmin grunts a little. “Want my sweater? To tie around your waist?”

You consider it for a moment before shaking your head. “Maybe later. I don’t want it to look like I’m disrespecting the stylists.”

“But it’s fine!” Jisung assures you. “These aren’t our usual stylists, and they don’t know our boundaries.”

“But we also don’t want to start something with this event,” you point out. They stylists had come with the gig, and you didn’t want to disrespect them if you didn’t usually work with them. It might ruin any other opportunities.

“Positions, everyone,” Chan suddenly says. He gives you a pitying look as everyone files into their assigned places. “You’ve got this.”

You’re not as confident as he is, but you force a smile. You tug the skirt down one last time before bounding out onto stage.

The music starts up and you begin to dance. Every movement that involves legs (pretty much all of them) has the skirt flipping up. Felix is behind you for the beginning, and when you catch a glance of his face it’s bright red.

You miss a hand gesture because you’re adjusting the fabric again, and your stomach tumbles. The media is going to have a field day with this. Everyone is going to be talking about how unprofessional you are.

Positions are swapped, and then you’re next to Changbin. He turns his gaze away to be respectful, but it just reinforces the idea in your head that the outfit is bad. That you’re indecent.

You blink back tears as you stumble over yet another move, too busy holding the skirt down to make it to the next spot in time. You’re falling behind, mind focused on your decency and not the dance.

Then your lines come, and your voice cracks. You’re lucky enough that you don’t have to hold your microphone up, because you honestly don’t have a spare hand.

It comes to an end, and you all bow. You walk off stage, perhaps the most humiliated that you’ve ever been.

Changbin loops his arms around you, tying his sweater around your waist. You mutter your thanks and wrench your headset off. 

“Hey.” Chan gently grabs your arm and steers you back to the group. “Let’s talk about it.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” You keep your head ducked, gaze locked on the floor. Your throat burns and you’re struggling not to cry.

Jeongin comes up behind you and rests his chin on your shoulder. “I think you did great.”

You shove him away. “Well I didn’t! I sucked because of this stupid skirt! I let it get in my head, and now everyone’s going to be talking about it!”

Minho sits on the ground and takes your hands in his. He gently pulls you down to his lap and lets your cry against his chest. “Yeah, it wasn’t your greatest performance.”

“How is that supposed to help?” Jisung hisses out.

“But Stay loves you no matter what. And if they don’t, they can go suck it.” Minho strokes your hair. 

Chan clears his throat. “I might not have said it in those exact words, but he’s right. And from now on, I’ll make it clear to our managers and staff about our boundaries. Including those that we work with for the first time.”

You hiccup between tears, burying your face further against Minho. “Really?”

Chan hums. “Absolutely. And we have time to change before our next song, so why don’t you go to the stylists again?”

You sniffle and push yourself out of Minho’s grip. Seungmin gives you a reassuring smile as you wander off.

“Excuse me?” you hesitantly say as you approach one of the stylists. “Would it be okay if I got a different skirt? Or maybe some pants?”

He tilts his head, nose wrinkling. “Why? Is there a problem with it?”

“Uh, it’s just that-“ You toy with the material as you try and find the correct words. You don’t want to insult the man. “Dancing in this is very difficult. I don’t feel comfortable in this.”

He smiles mockingly. “Oh, really? Well it’s fine. It’s not even that short.”

“I just danced in it and it didn’t go that well.” You’re aware that you’re running out of time. You need to hurry up. “Can you please just direct me to-“

“Have you considered that maybe it’s just your skill?” he interrupts. He sighs and shakes his head, turning away. “But fine. I could find something else.”

You swallow thickly as you follow him.

Is it actually your own fault? Are you just not a talented enough dancer for these clothes? 

“Is this good enough for you?” The stylist holds up a new set of bottoms, and you wince. It’s even smaller than the one you’re currently wearing.

“Ready yet?” Jisung comes sliding in, eyes widening at the skirt being held up. “Wow, that’s small.”

“Uh, almost,” you weakly tell him.

Jisung’s eyes catch on your face and trembling bottom lip. His arms shoot out to wrap around you, and he pats your back. “It’s okay!”

“Are you wearing this or not?” the stylist snaps. 

“No, she’s not.” Jisung tightens Changbin’s sweater on your waist. “She’s wearing this and we have to go now, since we’re on in less than a minute. But I’ll be telling Bang Chan about you.”

The man pales. Having an idol complain about you was pretty much a death sentence, especially when that idol had as much influence as Stray Kids.

Jisung grabs your hand you the two of you dash out onto stage. You burst out and join the rest of the members, just in time for the music to begin.

This time it goes smoother. The sweater gives enough weight to keep the skirt down, and you’re able to focus on the dance. Your movements are fluid and well-executed, and you know even Hyunjin would be proud.

When you go backstage, you feel mildly more confident. You take a swig of your water bottle as Jisung tells Chan about the stylist.

Jeongin huffs, overhearing the conversation. “What an asshole.”

Seungmin hums his agreement. “A real dick.”

Chan holds up his hands. “Let’s watch the language, everyone. We’re professionals at work.”

Changbin snorts. “Right. If he’s a professional, why did he basically humiliate her?”

Felix hooks an arm over your shoulder. “It’s okay, I bet Minho will screw up soon and everyone will forget about today.”

Minho makes a sound of protest, narrowing his eyes. “Why me?”

Hyunjin wipes the sweat off his forehead. “Relax, it’s just an example.”

Chan calls the stylist over, who appears vaguely nauseated as he steps closer. He bows briefly to Chan before his eyes flick to you for a fraction of a second.

“I heard you had a bit of an issue with one of my members?” Chan blandly asks. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this angry. “Were you the one who put her in that skirt? Were you planning for her to humiliate herself and get kicked out of the industry?”

“Yeah!” Jisung cries out. He’s immediately silenced by Minho.

“S-Sorry,” the man mutters. “I just- I’m sorry.”

“No, no, continue.” Chan arches an eyebrow challengingly. “You just what?”

“Bet he just wanted to see her in it,” Seungmin drawls. “Is that it?”

A bead of sweat rolls down the stylist’s forehead. “Well- It wasn’t that short!”

“Would you feel comfortable wearing it?” Felix chimes in. “Because I thought it was pretty short.”

“Guys,” you say. “Let’s just go home. I’m tired. It’s been a long day.”

“Poor thing.” Hyunjin pats your head. “Wanna eat a whole bunch of ice cream with me?”

“Maybe,” you slyly say, walking with him to the van. You ignore the sounds of Chan still scolding the man. 

“If you ever need my sweater again, just ask.” Changbin comes up from behind you to poke at the fabric of the borrowed clothes. 

“Are we just stealing these?” Jeongin questions once everyone is in the van. Everyone is also still in the performance clothing. 

Chan frowns. “Oops.”

Taglist:

@velvetmoonlght @jinnie-ret

[defuckingthrone-dot-com]

A Dirty Wedding Affair 🌴🌅

Summary: Just a quick little blurb about having a One Night Stand with Noah 

Pairing: Noah x Reader

TW: Sex p in v, oral sex.

A/N: Ever since i saw this picture i thought of this scenario. I talked to @concretejunglefm about it she actually contributed to some of the ideas here. also, title by her! Any way enjoy! xx.

Divider by @bernardsbendystraws

I really don't know how I got involved in this situation, I was always careful with things like this. Actually when I think about it, it wasn't really my style to do this type of thing. But here I was hiding behind a damn palm tree decoration on a small reception of this Hotel. I was trying to not get noticed by the guy whose bed I left this morning before he actually woke up. The walk of shame back to my room felt a little too real, and I guess I wasn't hiding hard enough because from the corner of my eyes I saw him walk up with a big smirk on his face.

“Are you really trying to hide behind that flimsy excuse of a palm tree?” he asked with a little bit of laughter in his tone.

“Who me? No, No why would i??” i said a bit too rushed

“Maybe because you sneaked out this morning” I wasn't expecting for him to call me out like that but he was right, i felt embarrassed and i didnt want him to see me. 

“yeah um i'm sorry?” i didn't know if apologizing would make the situation better but i tried anyway, 

His gaze lingered a little too long before he left a subtle laugh “Yeah it's good I ran into you, you forgot this Pixie..”i didn't have time to dwell on the fact he called me Pixie just like he moaned last nice with a few other choice of words because he was already pulling out the same lace pair of panties i was wearing  when i entered his room last night from his front pocket.. “Didn't want you to lose them so I kept them safe.” 

All the blood in me crept onto my cheeks and I can confidently say that I wasn't blushing anymore, I was bleeding red. I realized what was happening and in one quick move I snatched the panties from his hand. 

You're probably wondering how I got here? Well, I'll have to relieve the last 72 hrs for you to understand, so here i go!

It all started when I arrived here, this wasn't a vacation per say but I did plan on having the most fun I could before I had to go back to boring reality back home. My best friend from childhood was getting married this weekend. She had chosen to get married at the beach, which was great for me. I loved the tropical weather and I could enjoy a bit more tanning. 

The first time I saw him I was laid in a lounge chair by the pool. I was grabbing the the book i was reading in one hand and a glass of lemonade on the other, i saw walk in front of me and walk around the edge of said pool to reach the other side, he was with what assume to be his friends, i vaguely remember thinking how i did have Maid of Honor duties to fulfill but not until later that night so stayed a little too long in my spot.

I saw how his colorful tattoos shined under the water with the sun hitting them. he had a little bun of hair on the top of his, and he seem to be just about the tallest man i ever seen, The most gorgeous brown that have ever crossed paths with me, 

He seemed like a lot of fun, and started from my seat. I was wearing sunglasses and half of them covered my face. I thought I was being cautious and not obvious but when he turned to look my way an almost hazy took over me.

Luckily he wasn't looking at me, he was looking at one of his friends that was passing by me going towards him.

I didn't want to seem like a creep so I decided to just get up and go back into my room. I would be lying if I thought he was very attractive but way out of my league but I probably would never see him again so why even bother thinking such a thing. 

The second encounter was by the bar just down the street of the hotel. I probably shouldn't have drank anything before the wedding but I fear I was more nervous than the actual bride. I wanted to take a shot or two before I had to be back to get ready. i sat at one end of the bar when i saw him reaching the other end, he sat down and other his drink,

He was alone this time, i tried not look his way as the bartender put my vodka soda in front of me and maybe i was being paranoid but i could sense his eyes on me, I pulled out my cell phone from my phone and decided to scroll just so i could have something to do and not look dumb. After about of 10 minutes i decided it was time to go i paid for my drinks at headed, 

Once again this was the last time i would probably see him but was i so wrong, 

The wedding had started and everything was going to plan. The music started playing and as the maid of honor I made my way down the aisle to stand by the sidelines. As my best friend walked down the most beautiful princess and the emotions started to come afloat I saw him once again. He was sitting in the 3rd row of chairs. 

My eyes grew wide, I didn't know why I felt the tension, I haven't even crossed words with him once so it was a bit dumb for me to feel this way. I couldn't run so I was just still until the ceremony had ended, But i could tell even by the side of my eye that at that point he was looking at me with a small smile. 

After the beautiful ceremony and my sweat induced head we moved to where the location for the party would be.

I was having such a good time, I mingled amongst the guests, everything was going perfect and I couldn't be more happy for my best friend Bailey. I didn't want my social battery to run out and as the liquid in my glass, I made my way down to the bar. I ordered a vodka soda and as I reached for it and turned around I nearly fell on my ass, I bumped into someone and it almost made my drink spill on my dress. I didn't pay attention to who was standing in front of me as I was trying to clean with my hands the small droplets that did manage to land on my dress.

“If i didn't know any better i would think you are stalking me” i heard a  voice.

“what..? i don't even know who..” as i looked up to meet his eyes i saw who exactly it was “are…” my voice started to windle down.

“3 times in the span of 48 hours seems like a very unlikely crazy coincidence” 

“i don't know what you mean” i tried to stay confidently 

“3 times, darling, 1. by the pool, 2. at the bar down the street this morning and 3. this wedding” he must sense the sheer panic and embarrassment in my eyes “you know i'm just kidding right?” he let out a soft laugh. 

“...yeah, yeah of course!” I said with a shaky laugh.

“if were going to keep running into each other it's best i introduce my self, Im Noah”

“im y/n”

“pretty name for a pretty girl”

“Uh thanks” I didn't know where to look. I was a bit shocked to actually be talking to him.

“So Maid of honor huh?” he asked intrigues.

“Yeah me and the bride we go way back, weve been bestfriends for years” i said preparing to ask him a question, “and you? Who do you know from here?” 

“The groom, we have worked together a few times” he replied back.

“So you're in the music industry, do you like sound tech or something?” i asked 

He stared at me as if i was saying something so out of the box “Not exactly, i'm in a band, and the groom has helped me and band out a lot”

“Ah that makes sense”

We decided to move our conversation over to the table where the rest of his band mates were seated. it scared me a bit how natural the conversation flowed. I was having a really good time with him and the night was almost coming to an end.

By this time both the bride and groom had already left and retreated back to their room, the only people left were the waiter cleaning up the mess and Noah and I. 

“So do you maybe want to go back to my room and chill for a bit..i mean if you would like of course” he asked with a hopeful glint in his eyes,

I hesitated for a bit, but after a moment I thought nothing wrong could go bad. 

“yeah sure that sounds great” 

We walked down the long hallways of the hotel to catch the elevator, we both knew there was a sexual tension between us and as soon as the doors closed to start ascending the correct floor, his lips were on mine. A sweet slow passionate kiss, where his tongue andmine where dancing in unison

The elevator door couldn't open fast enough, and a brief second we were already outside his door. He struggled to get his key card out of his pocket and as soon as the door he led me over to his bed. He laid me down while he balanced his wight on top of mine 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked 

All i could do was nod, I was too far in and too intrigued on his bedroom skills to say no.

He took over my mouth once more, another kiss, this one more chaotic and wild then the last. He started to slowly pull down the straps of my dress while I in a frantic motion fought to get his pants unbuttoned. 

Clothes started to fly around the room, my dress flew on the floor while my lace panties and bra ended on the side table. His button down shirt somehow made its way on top of the lamp that was sitting on the table in front of the bed, his pants and belt landing with a loud thud on the floor.

And just like that we were both naked. lost in the heat of the moment, Once his lips left mine, he started to leave a trail of tiny kisses from my jawline, down my neck, through the valley of my breast. He made a little pit stop at my navel to situate himself between my legs. Once he did so he picked right up where he left off. 

He overlooked my core to also kiss the inner part of my thighs. I was already high due to his touch. He locked down at my core and looked like the most starved man on earth about to eat a full course meal. 

“Pretty pink pussy darling, and you're already so wet” he said as he licked his lips “may i?” 

Once again all I could do was nod. He dove in and once his tongue made contact with my click and a sweet little moan escaped from my mouth. He lapped a few more times at my pussy before he detached  and sent me into oblivion with his fingers. One finger in, slowly taking it in and out, two fingers in, he started to increase the pace of what he was doing. 

He reached just the right spot a few more times of thrusting in and out. 

“ Noah oh god i'm gonna…” I said in almost a whisper.

“No no no Pixie you're not gonna cum until I tell you to, understood?’ 

“yees”

In one swift motion he turned me around, I was now on all four and waiting for his next move. I heard the sound of a condom wrapper opening. and from what i could tell he rolled it on this cock with ease. 

“hold on tight darling” 

All I could grab was the pillow beside. He did not give me any sort of warning in a matter of seconds he was inside of me. Thrusting in full force. All I could think of unironically was the song Closer by Nine Inch Nails in my head; because what the song was describing was what Noag was doing to me. Fucking me like an animal.

Fast paced, hazy eyes and the smell of raw contact. He slowed down only to catch his breath.

“ah ah Noah..” the moans were escaping my mouth, unable to control them. “It feels so good.”

:”Pixie you're so tight.. So fitting… sooo” Once final thrust in and we were both seeing stars. 

He collapsed on top of me while we both tried to catch our breaths. It was the most exhilarating and mind blowing orgasm that i have had. 

We took a small 15 minute break to hydrate and decompose before we were at it again. By the 3rd round i was so exhausted in the best way possible that i knew come the morning it would hurt to move. The ache of my muscles started to set in and as we laid there naked and vulnerable, My eyes started to close slowly and I succumbed to sleep , no longer fighting it.

By the time I had woken up the sun had already risen, I took notice of my surroundings, slowly taking my gaze through the room until they landed on the spot on the bed next me. 

There he laid asleep covered with a simple white sheet from his waist down, His tattoos brighter than i've seen them the last 3 days. Panic set in my gut, when I looked at my own body, I was completely naked. I scrambled to get off the bed and look for my clothes. I found my dress and my bra but nowhere insight into where my panties would be. I didn't want to wait around for Noah to wait up and kick me out of his room, so I put on what I did find and took my heels in my hand and slowly and quietly made my way to my room. 

Now fast forward to this afternoon where I was face to face again with him. 

“thanks for keeping them… safe.. you know?” i sad blushing and putting them in my purse

“No problem darling, i have a feeling this won't be the last time we run into each other” he said walking away only to turn around in a moment and wink at me. 

I couldn't help but let out a little laugh because I too believed this wasn't going to be the last time we would cross paths..

[clxssified-mirxcle]

God, I'm so Lovesick ᯓ★ Satoru

Satoru Gojo isn’t normal. Not as a sorcerer, not as a coworker, not as a friend, and certainly not as a friend with benefits. After all, why does he keep insisting on doing all the things that a couple does when you two clearly aren’t? It's almost like he likes you or something!

Containing:

Friends with Benefits, Satoru and you being complete idiots, Obliviousness, Unrequited (not really) love, Implied suggestive content, Denial is a river in Egypt...and also in Reader's head apparently, Impulsive confession

Notes: Mimi tries to avoid use of phrase "Y/N" at all costs; Wrote this with Fem!Reader in mind but tried not to mention it very often. Any feedback is appreciated esp when it comes to writing x readers in general!

Nowadays, it feels like you're waking up in his bed more often than not. Silk sheets, sun rays streaming through the floor to ceiling windows of the penthouse, and that grin of his. His hand messed up your hair when he noticed that you were awake, tangled from the activities that have become more and more frequent ever since you two made that deal.

Six months ago..

"Aren't you supposed to be on a date or something?"

You looked up from your paperwork- your students had just come back from another mission with a grade 3 curse. It was your co-worker, white hair and blindfolded in black. You sighed, wondering how he always knew. It'd been going on like this for a while now- you'd find someone to talk to, and just as you were to go out on a date, they'd cancel last minute or ghost you- it made you wonder if it was a curse sometimes.

"Does that Six Eyes of yours count towards other people's love lives or something?" You asked, rolling your eyes and signing the last page before filing it away. You hadn't even bothered to dress up this time- you felt like something happening was inevitable. You and Gojo were somewhat close, you supposed. Not enough to be on a first name basis, but enough to be friendly. He always laughed and said you were being too picky about it, to just call it being friends. So that's what you did.

You called it being friends, but with you both being sorcerers, it wasn't the most normal of friendships. He'd barge into your office proclaiming that the two of you should hang out, which often ended up with him lying on the couch and talking while you did your paperwork…and his as well.

It was nice, though, listening to him talk. You couldn't tell half the time whether his stories were real or not, and he'd usually bring sweets with him. Whether or not you had to bribe him to get them depended on how nice he felt that day about sharing.

"Shame. They're losing out," He commented as he swung your office chair to face him, a hand on one of the armrests. "We should go out for drinks then. You can drink your sorrows away, and I-"

"Gojo, you don't drink. It messes with Infinity, doesn't it?" You said, cutting him off with an unimpressed look. He probably just wanted to laugh at you while you cried and take blackmail photos. The man had a folder full of Megumi photos; he probably had one filled with ones of you at awkward angles too. It was comical how dramatic his face was as it fell, looking like you'd killed a puppy in front of him.

"You're such a party killer…but that's not a no to going out, is it?" He grinned, switching back quickly and leaning back. "Let's get milkshakes, then. I know this one American-style diner in Harajuku that specialises in them."

"…Do I even have a choice?" You asked, crossing your arms in your chair. When it came to sweets, the man was nothing short of ravenous.

"Nope!" Gojo chimed, using the sleeve of your uniform to pull you up and tug you with him as he headed out the door. "And stop with that 'Gojo' stuff, will you? Call me Satoru, like a normal friend."

The ride to the diner was…relatively uneventful, though you could feel his eyes on you the entire time if you weren't looking. You both were looking through the menu before you got fed up with his staring- he'd been staring, almost studying you over his menu.

"Spit it out, Gojo." You sighed, still holding up the pretence of looking through the menu. You'd decided on what you wanted a while ago, anyways.

"What do you mean, spit it out? I'm not doing anything of that sort." He said, a faux-innocent expression on his face as he put down the menu, calling over a waiter to order.

You finally looked up from your menu as the waiter took them and gave your order, leaving with a strange look at Gojo's white hair and blindfold. Your eyes narrowed as you both waited for your drinks. "You keep staring at me weird. Spit it out already." It was probably just a prank that he wanted to pull on Nanami or something.

"You ever heard of an arrangement called being friends with benefits?" He asked casually, one arm resting over the top of his booth chair, already talking before you could answer. The milkshakes had come by, and while they looked delicious, they sat abandoned for now. "I'm interested in one. With you. You don't need to worry about feelings, anything like that. If you're not into it, then I understand, and we can-"

Your first instinct was to say no. That it was a stupid idea. Your second was that it was a prank. Your third…considered it. After all, Gojo wasn't bad looking. Far from it, to be exact. White hair that you knew was soft because of how he once spent an afternoon talking about his hair products that perfectly matched his eyes. Oh, those eyes. You'd only seen them twice, but they were unforgettable. They had to be the prettiest ones you'd ever seen, a cross between some sort of gemstone or crystal and blue glacier ice.

Fuck it, you're sorcerers. You'd have to be dreaming if you expected to live a long life...though Gojo probably would, being the 'Honoured One' and all.

You were so caught up thinking…or admiring, sipping on your milkshake, that you didn't notice that he was still talking when you answered.

"I'll do it."

"That's totally fine! I don't want to pressure you into anything and- wait what?" You'd never seen Gojo so stunned before. You couldn't see his eyes behind that blindfold of his, and he was ever so thankful for that because he just knew that the way his eyes widened was embarrassing.

You couldn't help smiling, leaning back against the back of your booth as you relaxed. "I said that I'd do it, Gojo."

"Then call me Satoru. It's only right if we're going to be in this sort of relationship," His mouth turned up into a grin that you knew meant he was about to say something weird. "After all, I can't have you calling me by my last name while we're-"

You silenced him before he could say anything else by shooting him a glare. "Gojo, I swear to God-"

"What're you thinking about?" His voice, slightly rough from sleep. He had one arm around you as he leaned down, pressing his lips to your neck before you playfully swatted him away. "C'mon, tell me!"

"Ack- Watch it Pretty Boy! I just woke up!" You giggled, burying your body further in the sheets. "Just thinking about when we first made the deal." According to the man, you'd become a lot more cheerful lately, and you were inclined to agree. Probably because you two started spending time together a lot often.

"Oh yeah? Well… I don't know about you, but I'm thinking about spending the day together. I have a vision and everything." Satoru grinned, sitting up and tugging on your arm like he had that day, when your relationship with him changed. You couldn't help but laugh as he all but pushed you into the bathroom, closing the door.

He'd changed since then, too. Or rather, his behaviour towards you did, at the very least. Sure, there were the times when he'd barge into your office, but you'd rarely see him outside of Jujutsu High. Since the previous November, you found yourself seeing him nearly every single day…and often every night, with the nature of your arrangement. It was almost like having a boyfriend. Almost. Because he wasn't your boyfriend. The way he'd take you out, for dinners and to places that could've passed for dates? The way that he'd make breakfast for you in the morning while you were asleep even though he preferred to just reheat food? How he'd grin just a bit wider whenever you called him Pretty Boy?

It made you almost double guess yourself sometimes.

Because sometimes, you'd wake up to him asleep, his arm holding you close to him like you'd leave the moment you woke up, and you'd almost believe that this whole arrangement was something more. Because he'd sense that you just weren't up to it occasionally, and instead say "Let's just sleep tonight, I'm tired and it's late. You should just stay over,"

And so you'd wish for something more.

It was an impossible dream, really. He was Gojo Satoru, for heaven's sake. The strongest, whose birth shook the world of Sorcerers and humans alike to its core when his eyes opened to reveal a power that hadn't been seen for at least a century. It'd take nothing short of a miracle for someone like him to become remotely interested in you.

You came out of the shower to a new dress laid out on the already made sheets. He was clearly planning something fancy; from the soft fabric to the floral blue pattern that sprawled across the white cloth. It was beautiful, and not the first outfit he'd gotten you, but as you put it on…you couldn't help but wish that he'd given it to you because he liked you. Not as a friend, not as a co-worker, not as whatever you were now, but as someone to love. God, he confused you. He had to know what he was doing, acting like this.

He wouldn't tell you where you two were going no matter how much you pestered him, meaning you had to rely on your memory. He took you from train station before you two finally got onto a bullet train and watched as the city turned into countryside. Getting off onto some station in the middle of nowhere, Satoru grinned as he ignored your questions and linked your arms together, pulling you close to him.

"Sorry, Sunshine, but I couldn't have you figuring out where we were going." He murmured, winking. You hadn't even realised that he'd neglected to put on the blindfold today.

"Pretty boy, what do you mean-" Your voice was cut off by your own yelp as you felt the familiar rush of queasiness as your surroundings morphed.

Of course something felt off. He hadn't fucking teleported them.

"Satoru, I swear to-" Your voice that was about to raise faltered, as you looked around. "…Where are we?" Your lips whispered, mind, body and soul utterly entranced by the sight that lay before you.

It was beautiful. You and Satoru were standing on the bank of a lake that was filled with floating red lotuses, the overhead sun making the water that you could see shimmer with flecks of pale yellow and gold.

"Somewhere in Northern Thailand. Nice, isn't it?" He answered from where he was standing, one arm around you- you hadn't even noticed when he'd done it- with a smile on his face.

The words 'Nice is an understatement' were caught in your throat as you turned to look at him, lips slightly parted open in what was normal to him, but to you was in absolute awe.

Satoru was always a good looking guy, handsome even. But oh, he was radiant. His white hair was striking on a normally, but in the sun on a day like this, you swore that it was glowing like a halo around him. Blue eyes that looked like they were made out of stained glass and long lashes that looked almost frosted in snow that would never melt. You both were in your mid 20's, but the one word that came to mind when looking at him was boyish, and it made a smile rise to your face as he took your hands in his.

"Dance with me, C'mon!" He said, eyes sparkling in a way that made you second guess everything again, eyes widening and cheeks heating up in a way you knew you had many times before…though you were pretty sure Satoru never noticed. You nodded, slightly stunned as he started leading you in something resembling a waltz, a giddy laugh escaping your lips.

"There's not even any music to dance to!" You spoke, laughter seeping through the pauses of your words as you took one hand off his shoulder to try and get hair out of your face from how he spun you around.

"I got it all in here, don't worry!" He smiled, guiding your free hand to just over his heart, and you prayed that he couldn't feel how warm your skin was or how your own heartbeat sped up.

"You're so stupid…" You mumbled, looking away as that smile got to you again.

Really, you had to get a hold of yourself. This was getting unbearable.

"Stupid? After I got you this?" He asked, a shit eating grin on his face as he turned you around, taking out a small jewelry box. "I'd be crushed if you thought that of me after this."

You felt the smooth chill of metal against the skin of your neck, instinctively looking down. He'd gotten a necklace. Aquamarine set in silver, the metal swirling around it in fibers so thin they looked almost liquid in the sun. It was beautiful.

And so, so wrong. Because a gift like this was something you got for someone special, and you…you weren't special to Satoru. Not in the way you wished it to be. Not enough to warrant what you were pretty sure was a custom made necklace that clearly cost more than double your monthly rent

So why did it create that familiar pit in your stomach? That blockage in your throat which didn't go away no matter how hard you swallowed?

You turned around and could barely get the words out, voice quiet as you whispered, "…Satoru, I can't-"

"You can't what?" He asked, a mix between a confused look and smile on his face. "I know I've never bought you jewelry before, but-"

"I can't do this anymore!" The words came out of your mouth faster than you realised. His mouth was still open from when he was speaking, and his eyes were wide in what one could only describe as utter shock.

Silence fell over you both. He was looking at you like you were someone special.

Oh. You'd messed up.

Oh.

You felt wetness on your cheeks. Strange, it wasn't raining.

You were crying, weren't you?

Looking at Satoru, he was about to cry as well.

"Satoru, I- I-" Your lips were wobbly as you slowly stepped away, barely holding yourself together. You were trying to look at anywhere else but him, really, hands fisted in your clothing with enough force to worry about the fabric ripping.

"I'm sorry. I can't do this anymore. I just-"

You were cut off by Satoru's voice so quiet yet so loud, faltering in a way at the end that just made your heart break. "Did I do something wrong? Tell me, please. I can- I can make things better. I'll make it better. Whatever it is, just tell me and-"

"No, you really can't." You whispered, forcing out a smile as you wiped your tears, the necklace, as delicate as it was, weighing like a thick chain of solid steel on your body. "Because you make everything better, you see. And that's the problem. I've not been a very good friend with benefits to you, you see."

"I've gone and fallen for you, and the worst part is that I don't even know when it started. I just look at you and feel dizzy with how my heart starts beating so fast."

That's strange. Why was he smiling with the purest form of relief on his face when he had been fighting a look of utter despair beforehand? He had to have lost it. Congratulations, you're to be credited as the person who made Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer, lose his mind faster than any curse. Fantastic.

"That's embarassing. I arrange all this, get you nice jewelry, and you still steal the first confession?" He said, half to himself as he ran a hand through his hair. "Maybe I should've listened and told you sooner."

You couldn't do anything else but stare, mouth agape with confusion as he stepped forward towards you, eyes filled with nothing short of adoration on his face.

"I had all planned out, really. I honestly had half the mind that you already knew." Satoru grinned, staring at you like you were the only one in the world. You were so close to him. Sure, you'd been closer, but everything felt different. Lighter. As if the necklace had lost all its weight since he had put it on you.

"You didn't know at all?" He asked, his fingers briefly resting on your hand before traveling up to rest on your cheek, bring your face closer to him.

"Not one bit." You breathed out, as you both leaned in, eyes closing and lips meeting.

It wasn't your first kiss, not by a long shot.

But you were pretty sure it was your favourite.

Taglist: [2/50, Comment to be added!]

@evilari111 @the2ndl

Credits ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

Made everything myself on Canva! Got images from Pinterest!

© 2024 clxssified-mirxcle. All work belongs to @clxssified-mirxcle. Do NOT repost, translate or plagiarize in any way on ANY platforms. clxssified-mirxcle does NOT consent to having her work used to train AI in any form and does NOT support any form of AI 'art' whatsoever.

[skippingstonez]

Could you write Twilight Link with an aristocratic reader? Just cute country bumpkin bf and fancy schmancy wealthy gf who spoils him (‘-’*)

I don't know what made me think *bath* when spoiling Twilight but here we are!

Rags and Riches

(TP!Link x Wealthy!Reader)

Castle Town was thriving. The usual hustle and bustles of shops and vendors rang through the streets, welcoming all who entered into its gates. It's cobblestone weaving through buildings long since established while others were recently refurbished for whatever new and exciting thing had grasped the citizens interest.

All were welcome into the ever expanding town. Where Gorons and Zora freely traversed and traded with Hylians both residential or simply passing by. So it was almost comical that the only one to be so roughly denied entry was the one who had saved it all.

Spears shot at him as he ran back to the gate. The soldiers shouted after him as they charged. Mother's snatched their young up into their arms as he ran past. Likely afraid of getting bitten or even just knocked over.

Link didn't blame them. It wasn't him they were chasing away after all. Even as Hyrule's hero he wasn't well known in town. Mostly only recognizable to those who frequented Telma’s place. But not even they would realize who they were chasing. To everyone around him he was simply a large wolf that had wandered into town. Of course they would chase him off, he would have too in their situation. That understanding didn't lessen the pain he felt as sharp metal nicked his shoulder.

He whined in pain, darting through the south gates into Hyrule Field. The small band of knights cheered as he ran, content to stay near the gate instead of attempting to finish him off.

He knew trying to go into town the way he was had been a poor judgement call. The sun had still been low in the sky. The early morning light chasing away the shadows of night. And try as he might to stick to those shadows, there simply hadn't been enough to conceal him from watchful eyes. Which led to guards quickly being notified, and to Link's displeasure and shock, decided to actually rid the town of him.

He slowed to a crawl-like speed. The chain around his foot dragged against the stone steps. He just needed to get far enough to change back. As a Hylian he'd be able to freely roam the town without fear of being chased down. He could find the shop and get the red potion he so desperately needed.

Assuming he even had enough rupees for it. 

Or that he would even make it that far without collapsing.

Link was exhausted. An ambush of monsters earlier had taken everything out of him, including his ability to walk normally. Having likely fractured an ankle, he had to finish off the fight as a wolf. Letting the weight of his broken foot be distributed to 3 others than try and remain upright on one. He had then dragged himself all the way to Castle Town that way in hopes of getting a potion he had unfortunately found out he was out of.

He reached the bottom of the steps. The large fountain to his right and the grassy fields of Hyrule before him. The peaceful meadow and calming sound of rushing water was a far cry from the turmoil his body felt. Stomach empty after having not eaten for Hylia knows how long, exhaustion creeping into his bones that only bore more weight from the pain of his leg. 

Maybe he should just call it quits and sleep out here. The grass looked soft enough and maybe then he could snag the potion and some food later in the day.

He scanned the surroundings, looking for a spot hidden away where he could either change back or rest. His mind still heavily debating between the two. The rather open concept of the area limited his options significantly as he searched and quickly realized he wasn't even alone.

Just ahead, sat at the edge of the fountain was a young lady. Her hair done up in a flawless curl that fell over her shoulder. Her clothing screamed of wealth, dressed in one of the finer styles Link had seen around town. Its long, flowy material hugged her body perfectly while its color complimented each detail of her delicate face.

Link's heart quickened. A deep warmness spread over him as he took in the way she moved. Soft, careful and elegant.

The girl was stunning. And more importantly,

She was you.

He lifts his head, releasing a song-like howl into the air, rushing over to where you sat. Your head now frantically searching in his direction. He approaches with confidence, sitting right in front of you as a large grin spreads across your face. 

You were on him in seconds. Grabbing at his face to shower him with affection.

“Link! Oh you're alright!” You squished his face between your hands. Alternating between scratching at his ears and running your fingers through tangled fur. Your lips peppering kisses around his nose. 

His tail swooshes back and forth rapidly, raising his head high as you showered him with praise.

You paused, moving your hands lower to see the blood on his shoulder. Your face slowly turning to a scowl with hands on your hips in a weak attempt at scolding him.

“You're hurt aren't you?” 

Hearing your less than pleased tone of voice he laid down, looking up at you with innocent eyes. It was a move he always played when you were upset with him. Knowing that it worked 9/10 times and this time was no different. 

You sank down to your knees, holding his face once more with a tender gentleness Twilight yearned for every time he had to leave your side. 

“What happened? Do you need anything? A potion? I think I have some at home! Otherwise I'll buy the whole stock if you need-”

Link pulled at the shard's magic, letting himself return to his Hylian self to better ease your concerns. He knelt before you, putting a hand over yours that still held his face.

“I'm fine Darlin, it wasn't anything I couldn't handle.”

It wasn't a lie per say. He was fine in a way now that he was with you. And he did and was handling it. Even as he winced in pain as the full force of his injury returned to his ankle, making him move to sit on the ground rather than on his knees. Or how the new gash on his shoulder began bleeding through his shirt.

You immediately noticed his discomfort, eyebrows only furrowing further in worry. 

“You clearly are not!” You scolded him, gesturing to not only the fresh blood on his shoulder, but the other dried patches of blood and dirt and whatever else coated his clothes. The small rips and tears from battles, and of course the rather obvious way he was sitting as to not bump his ankle. 

Link wasn’t a slob by any means. Even during his travels he prided himself on keeping his things and himself relatively clean. But sitting there, next to your smooth clothes and flawless skin, Link had to admit he was downright filthy. He hunched his shoulders in embarrassment as you stood, brushing off the few flecks of dirt from your skirt that likely had gotten there because of him. 

“Come on, let's get you home and we will get it all cleaned up.” You took his hands, carefully helping him to his feet. He hissed, trying to put pressure on his bad foot so he wouldn’t crush you with his weight. You merely ducked under his arm, wrapping around his waist for support.

“I’ll make a mess of ya, let me-”

“Nonsense! Clothes can be washed and replaced my dear.” You leaned up and kissed his cheek. “You however can not be.”

Link smiled, kissing the top of your head as you helped him back to your place. The walk taking longer than normal due to the slow pace and uneven ground that made him stumble. Biting back the pain shooting up his leg with every jolt and misstep. 

It was late morning by the time you reached your place, a soft glow welcoming more and more townsfolk into the streets. Yours was one of the nicer homes nestled just east of the castle itself. The swirled metal fence protecting the lush green yard that led all the way to the small porch.

It was a place Link had been spending more and more time at. Giving every and any excuse to come and visit you whenever he could. It wasn't quite home and it still felt almost like a whole new world here compared to the humble village of Ordon. But it's where you were which is exactly where he wanted to be.

You helped him inside, helping remove his gear as a short woman scurried towards you.

“Thank you Lyla, could you see to it that these are cleaned and repaired?” You asked, handing her his sword and shield before she disappeared just as quickly.

“Alright,  the larger bathroom is upstairs which will probably be preferable.” You mused. “Will that be alright?”

Link knew what you were really asking, rolling his eyes playfully. “Darlin, do you remember how I met ya?” He asked, grabbing onto the stairs railing.

“How could I ever forget?” You laughed lightly, hovering over him as he started up the stairs. “You saved my carriage from that awful large bird!”

“Sure did, and I'm pretty sure if I can face that, I can face a few stairs.” He laughed at the small pout you made. Giving him a little more space to get up the stairs. Your hands were right back on him when he reached the top, guiding him down the hallway until you reached for one of the doors.

The door opened to reveal a large bathroom. The marble tile floor and white walls lined with shelves upon shelves of bottles that Link could only guess what they could be. Each one uniquely shaped and sized with dazzling colors that swirled around inside their glass containers.

You led him inside before gliding over to the white tub. Turning its golden faucets as water poured into the tub, wisps of steam floating up to the ceiling. You grabbed one of the bottles, uncorking it and pouring a dash of its purple contents into the water that formed small bubbles on its surface.

You pulled out the stool of the neatly organized vanity to the left of the room, placing it directly next to the tub. Patting its velvety cushion as an invitation for him to sit. HJe complies, sitting down with a small groan as his muscles ache to accommodate the sudden change in position.

He slipped off his boots and socks before your hands found his chest. 

“Can you lift your arm?” Gesturing to his injured shoulder. He does with minimal pain as you slip his tunic off, chainmail and undershirt quickly adding to the growing pile of filth now littering the floor.

The gash on his shoulder wasn't nearly as bad as he initially thought. With the bleeding already having stopped and the pain more of a sting than anything else it blended into the other scraps he wore. 

You kissed his nose, “You hop in alright?”

He nods, waiting until you've left the room to remove the rest of his clothing and carefully lower himself into the tub.

He would never admit the straight moan that left his lips as he sunk down into the water. It's warmth seeping straight to his bones that relaxed every ache and tug at his muscles. The mystery soap left a tingle on his skin that poked at any scrape and bruised till they were only a memory.

He would definitely be asking to borrow this one in the future.

The door creaked open and Link quickly covered himself underneath the water as you walked in. Holding a small basket and the fluffiest pink towel he had ever seen.

“Apologies for the color, I unfortunately wasn't prepared to have company at the moment.”

You strolled forward, placing your small pile on the floor by the tub. You held out a bottle that Link recognized as a red potion. He took it from you, careful not to disturb the water too much as he drank all of it. It's magic flowing straight to his broken ankle, setting and then mending the bone in a numbed discomfort.

Link mumbled a quick thank you as you took the bottle from him. Returning it to the small basket as you sat down on the stool by the head of the tub.

He pulled his knees up, not trusting the layer of soap to keep himself covered.

Link couldn't recall a time he had felt so…exposed, before. Maybe once when Shad and Rusl had helped him after a bad fight but certainly not in front of you! Not yet

“You're…staying? In here?” 

“Is that alright?” You asked sweetly. Rolling up the sleeves of your dress. You grabbed a cloth, dipping it into the water before gently running it over his shoulders.

“I know how to take a bath darlin”

You chuckled, letting some of the water fall into his hair. “Well I would hope so dear. But I can see how tired you are,” you grabbed another container from your basket, scooping out some of its contents to rub between your hands. “So you just relax okay? Let me handle this.” 

Your hands ran softly through his hair. Fingers rubbing at his scalp in a heavenly pattern as you hummed a song Link hadn't heard before. He let his eyes close, leaning back on the tub as you continued to work whatever concoction through his hair. 

It smelled like wildflowers and honey. Exactly the way you smelled and he thought for a moment if this is what you would use when bathing before quickly making sure he was still covered beneath the water's soapy surface.

You lifted his head, rinsing out his hair a few times till you were satisfied the stuff was all gone. Your hands found his shoulders, gently kneading at the muscles until Link was practically moaning at your touch. It stayed like that for a while, occasionally rubbing a new soap or cream across his shoulders, chest or back. The heat from the water beginning to fog the room like a sauna.

A small tap to his cheek, “Alright dear, I will leave the rest to you.”

You stand, putting the pink towel and anything else he might still need on top of the stool where he could reach.

“The towel is there, and there's a fresh set of clothes awaiting you in the room to the right. Don't fret about these ones, I'll have Lyla collect them once you're done and make sure they get washed.”

You lean down, giving his cheek a quick kiss before exiting the room.

He takes a deep breath, letting himself enjoy it all for just another moment before washing the rest of his body. Getting out once the water had cooled significantly, trying not to splash water unnecessarily as he wraps the towel around him.

Even with the rather unbecoming color, it was the softest, fluffiest damn towel he’d ever used.

Keeping a firm grip to the towel around his waist, he peeks out into the hallway, making sure it's clear before dashing into the next room. Just as promised, a stack of plain clothes were laid out for him on the bed, near perfect to his size as he slips them on.

He attempts to dry his hair before making his way back down towards the stairs to where he hopes you are.

The stairs are much easier to get down with his injuries healed. Letting himself skip the last two steps as he spun to head towards the living area. Just as he suspected, you were sat on the couch, feet tucked up beside you. You had changed into a different dress, this one detailed in a floral pattern and fitted to the curve of your body.

He snuck up behind you, tossing his arms around you in a tight hug. Your laughter ringing in his ears.

“Feeling better?”

“Much” He lets go long enough to plop down next to you. “Thanks to you of course.” He cups your face, bringing it to his in a long, drawn out kiss. He deepens it as you hum against him, swiping his tongue across your bottom lip teasingly before pulling away. He smirks at the way your cheeks flush the same shade of pink as your lips. 

He flops down, resting his head on your lap. The exhaustion sets back in, begging at his mind for rest. Fingers run through his hair, only encouraging the pull of sleep. Words are said but he can no longer make them out, smiling to himself as he finally gives into an easy unconsciousness. 

_____

It wasn’t until later in the day that he woke up. The mid afternoon sun beating at his face through the tall windows while the smell of food invaded his nose. He turns onto his side, his face burrowing into the fabric of your dress as he wraps his arms loosely around your waist.

“Well good morning love”

Your soft voice calls to him. He opens his eyes, looking up to you smiling down at him. 

“There is food awaiting you in the kitchen whenever you are hungry,” You explain, brushing hair out of his face. “I do need to head into town, would you care to join me?”

He nods lazily, holding you close to him until  his stomach rumbles loudly in empty protest. You laugh, leaning over to kiss his temple. 

“Alright, We’ll leave once you've had a bite to eat. Then we can get you all stocked up while we're out.”

It was only 30 minutes later until they were strolling down the busy streets. With Link now healed, rested and fed, the streets felt much more welcoming than the hostile experience of this morning. The streets were now packed, voices shouting out to hassle and bargain down prices. He kept a hand on the small of your back, holding the few things you had already bought in the other.

Despite his insistence, you had bought him everything he needed and then some. Multiple bottles of healing potions, some arrows and even his own bottle of that purple soap from this morning.

You were currently browsing through a stall of books. Briefly explaining plots of ones that you had read previously while searching over new titles. He smiled at the way your eyes widened in excitement as you skimmed through the new book in your hands, using the small moment of opportunity to hand over a few rupees to the vendor.

“Oh Link, you didn't have to do that!”

He hugged your shoulders, pulling you to his side. “It's alright sweet`art. It's worth it to keep that smile on ya face.” You blushed as he slipped the book from your hands, adding it to the bag.

You continued on your way, hoping to get a special treat for Epona who was being watched over back in Kakariko. You leaned into Link, enjoying the rare quality time spent together for the rest of the afternoon. 

A detour through the center of town led you two to linger around the fountain. The street lamps being lit around you as the crowds began to disperse. He takes your hand, his rough thumb brushing over the softness of your knuckles with a deep sigh.

“I’ll uh, gotta get goin in the morning. Promised Fado I’d help out this week.”

“Oh..”

Link knew that tone. He knew you were disappointed and honestly, so was he. He wanted to be by your side more. To see your smiling face, to be there when you needed him. To be the hero he had been for Hyrule, to you. But Ordon was his home and he still struggled to imagine fully leaving it all behind. It was who he was at his core, a simple rancher. And you deserved more than that. You deserved the life of luxury that you had here. To be within the walls that he tirelessly worked to make sure were kept safe. 

“Link?” He cupped your face, lifting it up so he could look directly into your eyes.

“What…what if I came with you?”

“Come…to Ordon?”

You nodded and Link's heart stuttered in both panic and excitement. You wanted to visit Ordon with him? To see his home, meet everyone he considered family? It was something he had dreamed of since the first time he had kissed you. 

What if you didn't like it though? What if it only solidified how different your worlds were?

“I don't have to of course,” You tried to reassure him. Likely having caught onto his slight panic. “I just…I miss you when you're gone. And I know how important your village is to you. It'd be an honor to see it for myself.”

Link's heart nearly lept out of his chest. “Are ya sure?”

When you nodded Link couldn't hold back the smile spreading across his face. He grabbed your face, crushing his lips onto yours. He pushed away the panic, the fears and insecurities. You were coming with him. You wanted to come home with him and he couldn't imagine a more perfect idea. 

[minicookiedemonx]

HEAT OF THE MOMENT

Hi my writer name is mini, I used to write a lot of smut when I was younger but lost interest. But I’m back with a bang! I hope somebody enjoys this. This is my first post to this community and I’ve enjoyed what I’ve read so far! I don’t know how to set mine up too look as cool as everyone else’s :p.

Edit credit @ myself

Summary: Fem reader POV; You cause a scene at a local bar causing Officer Gojo to escort you off the premises. The reader is alluring, seductive and teasing him with lust. Causing Officer Gojo to then lose his composure and disregard protocol.

Warnings; rough, jjksmut ,gojosatorusmut ,NFSW , outdoor sex, authority-kink, creampie, nofluff , gojosmut, gojoxfemreadersmut, hair pulling, fingering, breast sucking.

Word count; 2k

The bar was alive with chaos—laughter, shouting, the clinking of glasses—but none of it compared to the scene you were making at the center of it all. You weren't even sure how it had escalated this far, but the combination of spilled drinks, a bruised ego from the guy you'd argued with, and the bartender's exasperation had turned a fun night out into something more... memorable.

"Miss, you need to calm down," the bartender said, his patience clearly worn thin.

You rolled your eyes, leaning on the counter with a playful smirk. "I'm calm. Maybe you're the one who needs to relax. How about a drink? On the house, perhaps?"

Before the bartender could respond, the door to the bar swung open, and in strode Officer Gojo Satoru. His presence commanded attention instantly—tall, broad-shouldered, and wearing an air of authority that clashed with the cocky smirk he wore so effortlessly. His uniform fit him a little too perfectly, and his white hair, pushed back in a carefree style, gleamed under the dim lights. He slid his shades down just enough to scan the room with those piercing blue eyes.

You froze for half a second, watching as he approached with a slow, deliberate stride. The murmurs in the bar quieted as he stopped in front of you, towering over you with an air of unshakable confidence.

"Miss. Y/N," he said, his voice calm but edged with annoyance. "I heard you've been causing some trouble."

You gave him your most innocent smile, tilting your head as you looked up at him. "Trouble? That doesn't sound like me. I'm just having a little fun."

His gaze was unamused, his smirk faint but sharp. "Yeah, well, your 'fun' just earned you a call to the police. So, either you come with me quietly, or we can make this a lot more complicated."

You couldn't resist pushing your luck. "Come on, Officer. You don't really want to arrest me, do you? You've got those gorgeous eyes, that perfect jawline—wouldn't you rather stay here and let me buy you a drink?"

The bartender audibly sighed, but Gojo didn't flinch. He leaned forward just slightly, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him, his voice dropping lower. "Flattery doesn't work on me, sweetheart. Try again."

"Oh, but you can't blame a girl for trying," you said, your grin widening as you let your eyes linger on him just a little too long. "What about a smile? Surely I can charm a smile out of you?"

Gojo's lips twitched, but he didn't budge. Instead, he grabbed your wrist gently but firmly, his grip unyielding as he straightened up. "That's enough. Let's go."

Your grin faltered for a moment as he pulled you away from the counter, his calm yet authoritative demeanor leaving no room for argument. Still, you couldn't help yourself. "You really know how to kill the mood, you know that?"

"You'll thank me later," he replied dryly, his voice laced with sarcasm as he led you through the crowd. His hand on your wrist was firm, but not harsh, and you couldn't help but admire the way he handled you with such practiced ease.

As you were escorted out of the bar, you glanced over your shoulder, tossing a playful smile his way. "So, Officer, do you do this for all the pretty girls, or am I just special?"

He rolled his eyes, though there was the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You're definitely... something."

Once outside, he released your wrist but positioned himself squarely in front of you, his imposing figure blocking your escape. His shades were now perched on top of his head, those sharp blue eyes boring into yours.

"Listen," he said, his tone serious. "I'm going to give you one chance to walk away and go home. No more scenes, no more trouble."

You crossed your arms, tilting your head with a sly smile. "What if I don't want to go home? What if I want to stay out here... with you?"

His jaw tightened, and for the briefest moment, you thought you saw his confidence waver. But then his smirk returned, more smug than before. "Y/N, I've got more patience than most, but you're really pushing it."

You stepped closer, just enough to challenge him. "Or maybe you like being pushed."

His expression hardened, his voice dropping low. "This isn't a game."

"Oh, but it could be," you whispered, your voice dripping with mischief.

"Alright, Y/N," he said, voice low and steady. "Here's the deal. You're going to calm down, and we're going to the station. No more games."

You smirked, leaning your back against the cold brick wall behind you. "Games? I think you're the one making this more serious than it has to be. I was just having fun, Officer."

He stepped closer, his broad shoulders cutting off the light and casting a shadow over you. "Fun? You think dragging me out here in the middle of my shift is fun?"

You tilted your head, your lips curving into a playful grin. "I didn't drag you anywhere. You came all on your own. Besides, maybe you like this more than you're willing to admit."

His blue eyes narrowed behind his shades, which now sat low on his nose. "I told you to stop pushing me."

You shrugged, unbothered. "And I told you I don't think you'll do anything about it."

That was all it took. Before you could blink, Gojo spun you around and grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head, pressing his body against your back with enough force to make your heart race but not enough to hurt. You could feel his member betray his non-intrested demeanor by rubbing into your ass. You could feel how deeply excited he was- even if he didn't want to admit it.

"I warned you," he said, his voice dangerously low, his breath hot against your ear. "But you just can't help yourself, can you?"

You met his gaze head-on, unflinching, your smirk still intact. "What can I say? I like seeing you lose control."

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, it looked like he might snap. But then he pulled back abruptly, releasing your wrists and stepping away as though the mere proximity was too much. He reached into his belt and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

"You're under arrest," he said coldly, his voice hard and professional once more.

Your grin only widened as he spun you around, snapping the cuffs onto your wrists with practiced ease. "Aw, Officer, you didn't have to go to all this trouble just for me."

"Keep talking," he muttered, steering you toward his patrol car as he read you your rights.

He opened the back door and guided you inside, his touch firm but careful. As he climbed into the driver's seat and started the car, you couldn't help but notice the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands gripped the steering wheel a little too tightly.

The drive to the station started in silence, the hum of the engine filling the air. But you couldn't resist.

"So, Officer Gojo," you began, your voice lilting with amusement, "is this how you spend all your nights? Arresting harmless bar patrons and pretending you're not ridiculously attractive?"

"Y/N," he warned, his eyes focused on the road, his voice tight.

"What?" you asked innocently. "I'm just making conversation. It's not my fault you've got this whole 'hot cop' thing going on. You must get this all the time."

He didn't answer, but you caught the way his jaw clenched, his knuckles whitening as his grip on the wheel tightened.

You leaned forward as far as the cuffs and seatbelt would allow. "You know, you're kind of cute when you're pretending to be all serious. I wonder what it would take to make you crack."

"Stop," he said through gritted teeth.

"Stop what?" you teased. "I'm just talking. It's not like I'm doing anything wrong. You wouldn't pull over just because I said you had nice eyes, would you?" Gojo ignored you and you sighed with annoyance. You weren't going to give up that easily.

"Honestly the way you pressed me against that wall back there...made me kind of hot. You know...down there?" I spread my legs open slowly, unsure if he could see me do so but regardless they opened wide.

Officer Gojo remained silent, determined to remain calm and collected.

"So hot that when I go home tonight, and I touch myself, I might just think about that to get me off," you paused for a second. "Do you like the thought of that? Me all alone in my bed, circling my clit while moaning your name," you rolled your head back onto the head rest and jokingly moaned his name, "Ohh Officer Gojo,  just saying your name makes me so wet."

That was the last straw. Without warning, Officer Gojo pulled the car to the side of the deserted road, the tires crunching against gravel as he shifted the car into park. He got out and made his way to the back door, opening it furiously, meeting your gaze with extreme frustration in his eyes.

"Y/N," he said, his voice low and rough as he leaned closer towards you through the door. "I've been patient. I've been professional. But you just don't know when to quit, do you?"

You smiled, unbothered by his sudden intensity. "Maybe I just like getting under your skin. Seems like I'm pretty good at it."

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before leaning closer, his face inches from yours. "Do you have any idea what kind of trouble you're asking for?"

"Trouble?" you echoed, your voice soft and teasing. "Is that what you call this? Because I think you're the one who's in trouble, Officer."

His gaze flickered to your lips for just a moment before he closed his eyes, as if trying to collect himself. But when he opened them again, all the restraint was gone. "You don't know what you're doing to me."

"Then show me," you challenged, leaning forward just enough that your lips nearly brushed his.

Officer Gojo groaned, low and guttural, before finally giving in. His lips crashed against yours with a desperation that sent a jolt of heat through your entire body. The cuffs on your wrists pressed uncomfortably against the seat, but you didn't care. His hands were on you—cupping your face, tangling in your hair, pulling you closer as though he couldn't get enough.

When he finally pulled back, his breathing was heavy, his forehead resting against yours. "You're going to be the death of me, Y/N," he murmured, his voice rough and raw.

You smiled, still breathless. "Well, at least you'll die happy."

His lips collided with yours once again, meshing together with ease, you slipped your tounge in and his eagerly fought yours for dominance. One of his hand slide down from your face and under your shirt, onto your breast, gripping it tightly before pulling back and pinching your nipple.

You moaned into his mouth as he played with your breast, the excitement building inside you began to pool onto your panties. His lips remained locked onto yours as his hand travelled south before hiking up your mini skirt, revealing your black laced thong.

He pulled back to observe you, his face flushed as he panted. "You're going to get me in so much trouble," his fingers slide over your aching core, making sure to stop and focus on your hardened bud with a few quick circles.

You eagerly bucked your hips into his hands, whimpering for more. "Fuck you're so fucking wet," he groaned, using his fingers to push your panties to the side before running his fingers between your slits again as you oozed onto his fingers.

His thumb traced your clit, sending shivers throughout the your whole body as you felt the crisp air meet your wet core. Exposed and open, the only thing you were worried about is how soon you could get Officer Gojo to fuck you.

"You're such a fucking slut," Officer Gojo panted huskily, "willing to give up your pussy just to avoid jail time," he smirked dipping a finger into you, causing a loud gasp to escape your lips. He hummed at the sound, "But if you let me fuck you like the slut you are, it might work out for you." Officer Gojo stated with a smirk, locking eyes with you.

Your head rolled back with ecstasy as you felt his fingers curl in an upward motion behind your cervix. His fingers were so fucking long and they were hitting all the right spots. You were a gasping, moaning mess, you gazed down to Gojo to see his eyes locked onto your pussy.

Watching as his fingers moved in and out of you with an urgency that signaled he was having just as much fun as you were. He looked up at your gaze, locking eyes with you.

His gaze was no longer cold and harsh, but filled with desperation and lust. He added another finger before he starting pumping into your pussy effortlessly. The cuffs were digging into your wrist behind you, it stung but you could care less- it honestly made things hotter.

He observed you as he finger fucked you into oblivion, the way his fingers curled inside you had you craving for more. You wanted him-no needed him inside you. You turned your gaze down to his crotch and saw how tight the fabric around his dick had gotten.

The sight of him made you moan out desperately, "I want you inside me, I need you to fuck me," you said, panting inbetween words. He chuckled at the sounds of your desperation, "and...why should I do that" gojo stated with a low seductive tone, slowing the pace of his fingers.

"Because I'm your dirty little slut," you say with a smirk on your face, locking eyes with him as you pull his fingers out of you and latch your mouth around them, licking them clean.

Officer Gojo groaned at the sight and quickly grabbed you out the backseat and slammed you against the car. He pressed his chest to your back as he pinned your arms on top of your lower back.

His hips bucked into your ass, aggressively grinding his harden cock against your rear end. All this foreplay had riled Officer Gojo up to the point he felt as if his cock would burst from the seams if he didn't relieve himself soon. He kissed your neck as he pulled down your skirt and panties in one swift movement.

You heard his belt unbuckled and Officer Gojo undo his zipper rapidly. You went to turn around and greet his member but he roughly pushed you against the car. "You stay right there and look pretty while I fuck the shit out of you," he sternly stated, you nodded your head like a good girl.

He bent you over before spreading your legs, you felt him line his tip up with your aching core. He slapped it against your harden clit, causing you to hiss with desperation. You were so sensitive down there, however, you couldn't help but crave for more. He teasingly slide it between your slit, back and forth slowly before plunging deep into you.

You didn't get a chance to see his dick before it entered you but by the way it filled you up told you everything you needed to know. Officer Gojo moaned loudly as he entered you, taking his time with the first few strokes. Embracing the feeling of your tight, wet pussy griping all around his cock. It was almost too much for him to handle.

He began pounding into you with no mercy, the sound of skin clapping echoed as it blended with the sounds of the crisp breeze and eerily silence of the night. Officer Gojo was unfolding right in front of you, and you couldn't help but join him- fucking him had me  ecstatic.

"Fuck your pussy is so tight baby," Officer Gojo cooed as he gazed down, watching his dick slide in and out of you. He bit his lip in admiration, " and it looks so fucking good on my dick." He slapped your ass harshly while thrashing into you, you gasped at the sudden movement but quickly became the moaning slut gojo had turned you into.

He took a handful of your hair and pulled you back, finding ways to penetrate you in ways you have never imagined. You could hear Officer Gojo attempting to restrain himself from moaning loudly, whimpers left between his parted lips. The sounds drove you absolutely insane, you didn't take him for a whimper but you were loving every second of it.

"I can't believe you convinced me to do this to you," gojo stated, slowing his flow and pumping at a slow rate. "If you weren't such a desperate, needy fucking slut, I could be home by now." You moaned quite my as he fucked you through his lecture.

"But instead you have me in the middle of nowhere, losing my mind over how fucking good your pussy feels," and just like that gojo went right back to pounding you with no mercy. He needed to feel every inch of you, better yet- he needed to fill every inch of you.

You don't know how but he found a way to fuck you faster, even rougher, at this point no noise could espace your lips as he had fucked you into another dimension and you could barely process how good his dick felt inside you. You felt a familiar knot building in your lower abdomen.

"If you keep fucking me like that, I'm going to cum," you said breathless. A light clicked in Officer Gojo, his cock twitched in response. "Go ahead baby, be a good slut and cum all over my dick as I fill your pussy up," he was also breathless, he voice slightly cracking.

He pounded roughly into you until your pussy grasp and pulsated on his cock, triggering for him to spill every drop of cum inside you. It felt good, it felt amazing cumming on top of him as he filled you up. You were convinved there was no better feeling than fucking officer gojo.

He stepped back and pulled himself out of you, tucking his member back into his underwear and redressing. You turn to look at him, your face covered with red and beads of sweat. A smirk lacing your lips,

"So officer Gojo, are you still going to arrest me?"

-

HOPE YALL ENJOYED! MORE TO COME!

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

“I’m going to get a little wonky and write about Donald Trump and negotiations. For those who don't know, I'm an adjunct professor at Indiana University - Robert H. McKinney School of Law and I teach negotiations. Okay, here goes.

Trump, as most of us know, is the credited author of "The Art of the Deal," a book that was actually ghost written by a man named Tony Schwartz, who was given access to Trump and wrote based upon his observations. If you've read The Art of the Deal, or if you've followed Trump lately, you'll know, even if you didn't know the label, that he sees all dealmaking as what we call "distributive bargaining."

Distributive bargaining always has a winner and a loser. It happens when there is a fixed quantity of something and two sides are fighting over how it gets distributed. Think of it as a pie and you're fighting over who gets how many pieces. In Trump's world, the bargaining was for a building, or for construction work, or subcontractors. He perceives a successful bargain as one in which there is a winner and a loser, so if he pays less than the seller wants, he wins. The more he saves the more he wins.

The other type of bargaining is called integrative bargaining. In integrative bargaining the two sides don't have a complete conflict of interest, and it is possible to reach mutually beneficial agreements. Think of it, not a single pie to be divided by two hungry people, but as a baker and a caterer negotiating over how many pies will be baked at what prices, and the nature of their ongoing relationship after this one gig is over.

The problem with Trump is that he sees only distributive bargaining in an international world that requires integrative bargaining. He can raise tariffs, but so can other countries. He can't demand they not respond. There is no defined end to the negotiation and there is no simple winner and loser. There are always more pies to be baked. Further, negotiations aren't binary. China's choices aren't (a) buy soybeans from US farmers, or (b) don't buy soybeans. They can also (c) buy soybeans from Russia, or Argentina, or Brazil, or Canada, etc. That completely strips the distributive bargainer of his power to win or lose, to control the negotiation.

One of the risks of distributive bargaining is bad will. In a one-time distributive bargain, e.g. negotiating with the cabinet maker in your casino about whether you're going to pay his whole bill or demand a discount, you don't have to worry about your ongoing credibility or the next deal. If you do that to the cabinet maker, you can bet he won't agree to do the cabinets in your next casino, and you're going to have to find another cabinet maker.

There isn't another Canada.

So when you approach international negotiation, in a world as complex as ours, with integrated economies and multiple buyers and sellers, you simply must approach them through integrative bargaining. If you attempt distributive bargaining, success is impossible. And we see that already.

Trump has raised tariffs on China. China responded, in addition to raising tariffs on US goods, by dropping all its soybean orders from the US and buying them from Russia. The effect is not only to cause tremendous harm to US farmers, but also to increase Russian revenue, making Russia less susceptible to sanctions and boycotts, increasing its economic and political power in the world, and reducing ours. Trump saw steel and aluminum and thought it would be an easy win, BECAUSE HE SAW ONLY STEEL AND ALUMINUM - HE SEES EVERY NEGOTIATION AS DISTRIBUTIVE. China saw it as integrative, and integrated Russia and its soybean purchase orders into a far more complex negotiation ecosystem.

Trump has the same weakness politically. For every winner there must be a loser. And that's just not how politics works, not over the long run.

For people who study negotiations, this is incredibly basic stuff, negotiations 101, definitions you learn before you even start talking about styles and tactics. And here's another huge problem for us.

Trump is utterly convinced that his experience in a closely held real estate company has prepared him to run a nation, and therefore he rejects the advice of people who spent entire careers studying the nuances of international negotiations and diplomacy. But the leaders on the other side of the table have not eschewed expertise, they have embraced it. And that means they look at Trump and, given his very limited tool chest and his blindly distributive understanding of negotiation, they know exactly what he is going to do and exactly how to respond to it.

From a professional negotiation point of view, Trump isn't even bringing checkers to a chess match. He's bringing a quarter that he insists of flipping for heads or tails, while everybody else is studying the chess board to decide whether its better to open with Najdorf or Grünfeld.”

— David Honig

[midwesthoughts]

the sheer staggered disbelief Seon had when " the preverted kidnapper ( aka HIS OWN WIFE) sent the thigh mole picture and lol Seon's first reaction was " that's not my wife, I know her better than anyone .. nope that's just photoshopped "

the whole dynamic of the phone call is just excitingly exhilarating and at the same time melancholic because we know these two are so damaged by their "own blood relations" that they are unable to bring forth their feelings for each other..

AND THE RAGING GAIT... THE HURDLIEY TAKING OFF THE JACKET .. THE ALMOST KNOCKING ON THE DOOR.....

Don't even start!!!!

like that was absolutely screaming hot for no reason , how he was panting, breathless, ready to burn that supposed "pervert" alive by going to Heejoo's room and you know what's funny given their relationship I'd think he'd never went into her room apart from " hey are you home?" checking up on her if she is sleeping or maybe by accident.

and hereeeeee we have full blown catching and falling on each other , weighing down the body weights...

...when he was pulling the duvet with full strength, deep down he was ready to take on that man who has made him worried scared that his wife is infact with someone else... the mere thought of confirming that fear made him literally shaking... absolutely loved the scene and afterwards where he turned into a sulking boy and told Heejoo for the interpreter vacancy 😂

BUT the second time after the fire blast in his office HE WAS NOT HAVING IT!!!

also side not but I noticed how their clothes were almost same colour... now i might be too much obsessed with WTPR but i think that was to show how both are similar in their desires for each other ... passionate but tainted with self doubt...

YYS has always been a phenomenal actor but the way he controls his gaze, making it switch soft to dark doubtful is just AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

AGAIN THE HAND SHOT... AND love the detail of Heejoo's wrist watch making into the frame..

the way he was ready to check for himself the MOLE😩 and considering they were holding back for 3 years and in Seon case more than that .. IT'S CRAZY ... BONKERS how the sexual tension was scorching through my screen.

THE HAND PLACEMENT.....

* screams into nothingness*

absolutely love how Seon ate his own words "i know my wife better than anyone" only to be brought down to this pictured above ... like dude we know you are totally irrecoverably love your wife.

also the fact that he noticed Heejoo is uncomfortable on the kitchen table, that switched the place and he picked her up bridal style to the room.

forever our " action speaks louder" boy with our " scream the love you have for me " girlie...

they match each other's freak/obsession/want to the core!

I might need a breather after this whole write up🫢

[epickiya722]

As a bkdk artist who's been in the fandom since 2018, one thing that always annoyed me about antis is when I (and other bkdks) posted bkdk art back then, I'd see ATLEAST one comment saying "your artsyle is cute, but bakudeku is a terrible ship" or "I don't like bkdk but your art is so good. Maybe you could try drawing krbk next?" Or even "how could you even like this ship. Hori himself said that izch is canon."

The "your art is good but this ship sucks, draw something else" comments sounded like backhanded compliments. Like I'm passionate about the ship so I'll draw what I want? Thank you very much?!

It was so cool to hate on bkdk back then, they really acted like it was some illegal ship. I also had people say stuff like I didn't understand how bullied people feel or abuse victims like seriously what 😑

I feel your annoyance to the point. My sentiments exactly.

Going to sound mean when I say this, but antis have gotten so infuriating that I honestly stopped caring. Like anything they do just to hate on the ship is ridiculously stupid.

I refuse to believe they do all of that because "Oh, I mean no harm, I just want to express how I feel". No, they have been doing it for far too long and they do it on purpose.

They mask wanting to bother shippers but "sharing their opinions".

That's not how they really feel, that's not their opinion, so they can cut the fuckery. They just want to be an asshole.

Those same people who constantly bash on BakuDeku barely bat a lash at other ships that are worse if they gonna throw the "Bakugou is a bully card".

You're right and you should say it. When they say "art style is cute but..." it's a backhanded compliment.

Honestly, I wouldn't even call it a compliment because a compliment is meant to be genuine. If antis are being genuine about an art style being cool to them, they wouldn't follow up with some insult.

Now antis want to pull the "It makes no sense to ship them" card. Who cares about it making sense? You know what doesn't make sense to me?

If antis, those that ship Izuku and Ochako, want to scream about them being "canon" (I say more implied than canon honestly) then why talk about BakuDeku at all? Do you secretly ship BakuDeku and just want to deny it, resist it like "oh, no I mustn't! I shall not"?

Do you have just want to follow the crowd of haters? "I want to hate, too, yay!"

Do you just have a thing for "following rules" and try to apply it to anything? Because then why only single out BakuDeku? Why not other ships?

I don't know about them, but when I hate a ship I don't talk about it.

Antis be screaming "I see BakuDeku everywhere I can't escape it", but I had a totally different experience because when I first got into MHA and as the anime and manga went on, I didn't see BakuDeku content like that because I wasn't exposing myself to it. When I did cross the ship, my reaction wasn't to harass the shipper. Just shrugged and moved on.

So antis have no excuse at all for their shit actions. If you hate the ship, hate it.

Is like they want a cookie or something... "I'm a BakuDeku hater, I want a sticker!" That's what they look like to me.

Also, Anon, I thank you for being a part of the community. For anybody who reblogs your art with comments like that I'm a proud hater of them since they want to be proud haters.

[jordanthewerewolf]

WEREWOLF HRT CHAPTER ONE: MISSING

The bell jingles as I enter the diner. It's got a nice, homey, atmosphere and the air is filled with the chit-chat of many patrons. The smell of coffee fills my nose. I pull out the piece of paper in my pocket. Scrawled across the back in blue ink is the address of the diner, followed by a time. 3:15. My watch says it's 3:10. I'm early.

I flip the piece of paper over. I look at the picture that's mystified me for the past three days. It's a young male. He’s wearing a leather jacket, and his hair is dyed red and styled into a spiky Mohawk. A total punk rocker. Yet it's his face that I end up staring at. Jade eyes. A hawkish nose. Crooked smile. This boy’s face is identical to mine. And written in big bold letters at the top of the page are the words:

MISSING: ERIC FORRESTER

My friend Nezzie sent me a picture of this poster a few days ago, and now I’m walking into a diner in a city I’d never heard of, to chat with some lady I’ve never met. Because apparently, this guy is my twin brother. We were separated at birth, and he stayed with my parents while I ended up in foster care. While he was growing up an ordinary teenager, I was dealing with transphobic adoptive parents who didn't appreciate my efforts to be more… feminine. I can't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. He definitely got the better deal. But he’s my twin. My identical twin! You know that twin bond they always talk about in movies? I've felt that ever since it was little. Like I’d feel random flashes of joy, sadness, anger, and once, a wave of impending doom that brought me to tears.  I never knew what caused it. Now I do. I'm feeling what he feels.

And of course, I don't find out I have a twin brother until he disappears. The dude has been missing for a month. And in Hyper City, which I've already discovered to be the most bizarre city in the world. Hyper City is where the infamous Dr. Erian resides. About two years ago he developed the revolutionary Humanity Removal Treatment, which allows people to transform themselves into animals, mythological creatures, even fictional characters! Since then, people have been flocking to Hyper City in droves, with the desire to remake themselves into something inhuman. During the cab ride from the airport, I saw at least two dozen pedestrians who were mid-transformation. People with scales, feathers, fur. Snouts, paws, wings, tails, fangs, claws, and more. I saw some incredibly unique looking creatures. Like a hairless humanoid with deep purple skin and three pairs of glowing eyes. Or what looked like a giant green bear passed out in the park.  I make a mental note to do more research on this Animal HRT fad. It's been blowing up the news for the past two years, and Nezzie's been talking nonstop about it because she plans to transition into a dragon, but I haven't been paying much attention.

“Jordan?” I hear a voice call out. It's a young woman, about my age, who for some reason is wearing… a rabbit suit? She waves me over to her booth. I note her serious expression and her piercing blue eyes. I sit across from her. I feel her gaze burn into me for a few seconds. Then she relaxes. Her face softens. 

“You've got his face,” Rabbit Girl says. “You look just like him.” I know exactly who she's talking about. My twin.

“So you're the one who's been putting up the posters?” I ask. 

Rabbit Girl nods. “Me and a few others.” I notice a badge pinned to her chest, displaying blue, pink, and white stripes. Trans colours. I subtly flash my trans pride bracelet. Rabbit Girl notices it. She relaxes more.

Rabbit Girl offers her hand. “I’m Candace. Candace Double. But you can call me Candy.” 

I shake with her. “Jordan Forrester.”

A waitress comes by. “Can I get you two anything?” 

“Can I get a hot cocoa?” Candy asks. I order the same.

After the waitress leaves, I ask Candy, “What’s he like?”

She ponders that for a moment. “He was super sweet. Kind of awkward, and he had the tendency to say the wrong things at the wrong time, but he was well-intentioned. And he wanted to be friends with everyone. Eric saw the best in people.” Candy looks wistful. There's a faint smile on her face.

“Why are you using past tense?” I point out. “He’s not dead, is he?”

Candy shakes her head, making the plush rabbit ears on her hood flop around. “We know he’s alive. Just… there's some heavier stuff about Eric I'm going to need to tell you. But let's leave that till later. What's your story?”

“Erm, well…” I hesitate, trying to figure out how to describe myself. 

“I’m nothing like what you said Eric was like. I guess the only thing I can relate to is the awkwardness. Total introvert, and definitely not nice. I've been told I can be kind of a… bitch.”

Candy chuckles. “Also humble. He was like that too. Never bragged. I wonder what else you two have in common.”

We spend the next hour comparing me to Eric. Taste in movies, favourite music, video games. During this time, the waitress comes back with our drinks. Sipping my cocoa, I learn that in terms of our interests me and Eric are pretty different. He's into metal and rap music where I have a penchant for techno and EDM. I’m more into first person shooters where he favours RPGs and strategy games. But we do have a lot in common. Eric shares my general disinterest in movies and television, which is caused by my ADHD (which he also has). We’re also both really into punk and emo music like Fall Out Boy and Maneskin. Craziest of all, we both have the same favourite song: Good Charlotte’s The Anthem. A song about rebellion and deviation that’s always helped me when I feel oppressed or dysphoric.

Sitting here with this girl in a rabbit suit, I'm learning about this boy who I’ve never seen face to face, but who I somehow know better than anyone. I’ve felt his greatest joys, his lowest lows. Somehow, the two of us are tied together. I have no doubt that Eric can feel my emotions just like I can feel his. I have to find him.

Candy finishes off the dregs of her cocoa. “So, Jordan, do you like horror?”

“Yeah. I'm a complete horror nut. I'm, like, crazy obsessed with…”

“Werewolves?” she finishes.

I stare at her. “How did you know?”

She smiles. “Eric was a complete lycanthropy fanatic. He talked about it nonstop. And then this Animal HRT stuff came up…” Candy sighs. “I guess this leads right into the heavy stuff.”

I get a sinking feeling in my gut. “You mean…”

“Yep. He applied to transition into a werewolf.”

My heart starts to pound. “Oh, God…”

Candy puts a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Hey, hey, calm down. I'm not done yet.” 

“O-Okay. Go on.”

“Things went really well at first. He asked me to hang out with him during the full moon. So he wouldn't get lonely.”

“Isn't that dangerous?” I ask. She laughs. “Absolutely. And yeah, the first time he went wolf I was pretty certain he was about to eat me. But then Eric, this giant wolf creature, just walks over and sits down beside me. And he hugs me. I could see how happy he was. It was honestly adorable.” 

“So it became routine. Every full moon we'd hang out together while he transformed. Our other friends started joining us. We'd watch movies or play games and sometimes we'd go for walks around the city. Never the woods. Eric was scared he'd start attacking wild animals. He was a total softie. Honestly more like a big puppy dog than a wolf.”

Candy opens up her phone. A few taps and swipes later, she shows me a picture. It's of a bunch of people sitting around a campfire. I see a girl dressed completely in black, with black lipstick and eyeliner. A dragon woman with teal scales. A bird the size of a small child, sitting on the shoulders of a large green bear…

“I saw that bear,” I blurt out. “It was passed out in the park.”

“Behr does have a tendency to do that,” says Candy. 

I return my eyes to the picture. There's a girl covered in black fur with enormous, segmented eyes and a pair of antennae. And next to her is… Yep, it's Eric, all right. A big beast covered in shaggy brown hair. At the top of his head I can see his signature red Mohawk between a pair of pointy ears. He’s got a long wolfen snout filled with sharp animal teeth, and a pair of big paws tipped with razor sharp claws. But he looks happy. His yellow animal eyes are glowing with excitement.

“Wow. Just… wow.”

Candy puts her phone away. Her expression gets serious. “That was two weeks ago. And the last time we saw him. After we got home from that trip, his girlfriend broke up with him. The poor guy was crushed. I saw him check his phone. His eyes got wide. I watched the fur sprout, the fangs grow… and then he just ran off.”

“Have you guys looked for him?” I ask. Candy nods grimly. 

“We searched the woods every day for a week. We couldn't find him. But we know he’s there. We found paw prints, the occasional mangled squirrel, and every night we hear his howls.”

Candy sighs. “And as to why, well, we have three theories. One, Eric's snapped and gone feral. Or two, he's hiding in the woods, acting like a monster to numb the pain. Or three, this is what he's really wanted all along.”

So that's it. My brother’s become a monster. I feel the room start to spin. My stomach churns. My twin brother is a bloodthirsty beast.

“Behr went into the woods two nights ago. She said she found him, but he wouldn't say anything. She talked to him and she thinks he understood her, but then… he just ran off.” Candy has a helpless look in her eyes. “The government knows that he's in there. They're tracking him. They're leaving him alone for now, but if he hurts anyone…” She fidgets with her empty mug. “They'll kill him. They’ll put him down. Like he's a fucking animal.”

I feel like I'm going to throw up. But I somehow manage to reach across the table and take Candy’s hand. “It's okay, we’ll find him. I know I can find him.” I briefly describe our twin connection. “So, I think that I can help him. Like, I don't know, maybe he'll recognize me.”

“You think so?” Candy looks skeptical. “That sounds kind of unreliable.

“I promise,” I tell her. I try to change the subject. “What’s with the bunny suit?”

“Oh, this? It's part of my year living as my preferred species. I'm about to start Animal HRT in a few weeks.”

“Living as your preferred species? What does that mean?” I ask. 

“Erian has this rule where you have to dress and behave like what you're transitioning into for a year before you can actually start treatment,” Candy explains. “For me it basically means wearing this rabbit onesie. Everyone else who does AHRT just lies to Erian and says they've done the year already. But I don't want to risk this going wrong. I'm doing this by the books.”

“Ah.” I stand up. “I think I should be going now. Thanks for your time.”

“Thanks, Jordan,” says Candy. She gives me a quick hug. “Good luck.” 

I walk out of the diner, knowing I’ve just made a promise that there's no way I can uphold.

That night I dream about wolves. 

I'm running through a forest. The full moon hangs above me.. Every sound is magnified. Every leaf is in perfect focus. I feel my heart pounding, my breath coming out in deep grunts. The scents of nature fill my nose.

Ahead of me, I hear a wolf howl. An eerie noise that reverberates through the night. But I don't stop. I keep running towards the noise, bursting out into a large clearing. And there he is. My brother. Just like I saw him in the picture that Candy showed me. His jaws open, howling his longing into the night. Calling out to me.

He stops. Looks right at me. Strides over. “Eric?” I try to say. But it comes out as a wolf growl. I reach out to him, but my arm… it's not my arm anymore. It's a werewolf’s forepaw, covered in thick brown fur. I’m a wolf creature, I realize. Just like him. Before I can do or say anything else, Eric reaches me. Suddenly he pulls me in to a tight bear hug. “I’ve missed you, sis,” he murmurs. I try to say that I missed him too but it only comes out as growls. We hold the embrace for a long time, our furry bodies entwined, claws dug deep into each other’s pelts, our snouts touching tip to tip.

Finally Eric pulls away. He's grinning ear to ear as he takes my hand. As one, we lift our snouts into the air and bay at the moon, howling our joy at our reunion in perfect harmony.

The sound is so loud that it wakes me up.

Suddenly I'm not in the forest anymore. I'm laying on Nezzie’s couch, drenched in sweat. I feel my face. My arms. My backside. My hands. No snout, no fur, no tail, no paws. I'm not a wolf after all. It was just a dream. In surprise I realize that I'm disappointed. 

“Jordan?” Nezzie calls out sleepily. She's standing in the doorway, bleary eyed and clutching her hoard of plushies. “What's going on?”

“Just a really weird dream.” I rub my eyes. “Did I wake you?”

“Yeah. You were howling.”

“Like a wolf?” I ask hopefully. 

Nezzie shakes her head. “You sounded like someone was torturing a pig,” she snickers. “Anyway, I need my beauty rest. Try not to have any more dreams about slaughterhouses.”

Nezzie heads back into her room. I lay back down and stare at the ceiling. What was that dream? It was so… weird. And why did I like being a werewolf so much?

Then I hear his howl. It's faint. Distant. But it's unmistakable. It's the exact same howl from my dream. In an instant, I understand everything. What that dream was trying to tell me. What I’m supposed to do.

I rummage through my duffel bag and pull out my laptop. I Google Animal HRT then click on the first result. On the next page, there's a link that says “START AHRT”. Clicking that link brings up a form asking me to fill out my information. I enter my legal name, email address, and medical info. Under DESIRED TREATMENT I enter WEREWOLF HRT. I move my mouse to the SUBMIT button, and hover my finger over the ENTER key. I ask myself, Is this really what I want? Am I willing to give up my life for this?

I hear Eric howl once again. And I know my answer.

I slam the ENTER key and begin the process that will change my life forever.

Featuring @candyrocks03 and @nezhoardsthings

[doctor-bus]

I tend to have extremely vivid (sometimes lucid, though I don't have much control) dreams, but there are two that really take the cake for me. Under a readmore because they're long

The first one was a nightmare I had once while taking a nap. It was a really long dream, and most of it was just me going through my daily life, doing things like sitting at my desk on my computer, talking to my mom at home, attending class, ect ect ect. All super mundane and not scary at all. Except every so often my ex would call me, and I didn't want to talk to this ex so I was ignoring the calls.

Except later on, I was rushing across the university campus I was attending at the time and not really paying attention, so when my phone rang I answered it on reflex. Instead of my ex, it was a robotic, automated sounding voice listing off a description. Things like "He is: blonde. He has: blue eyes. He is: 6 foot 5. He is: 200 lbs." It was weird and creepy, so I quickly hung up before the message ended. I sent a couple texts to my mom and friends about this weird ass spam call I got and then just went to class.

The rest of the day in the dream, I kept getting the calls and ignoring them. I knew that it would be the same voice if I picked up, and I really didn't want to get involved in whatever weird bullshit that was.

Then it was evening, and I'd just gotten out of the shower. I remember the sensory detail of the steam in the hallway being extremely vivid (I think just because I was overheating under the blanket). I stepped from my bathroom into my bedroom (in nothing but a bath towel, as I hadn't finished drying off yet) and immediately grabbed my phone off my desk to check it, but my hands were still kind of wet so I fumbled it and accidentally called the number back. It fell on the ground and I had to kneel down to pick it up. By the time I did, it was already partway through the message

"He is: blonde. He has: blue eyes. He is: 6 foot 5. He is: 200 lbs. He is: right handed. He is: 15 ft away."

And at that moment I realize that I am supposed to find this person, and that this person is coming to find me.

My bedroom only had two possible points of entry, one door and one window. I was near the door, so I backed up a little and angled myself so that I could see both at the same time.

My closet door opened behind me.

I scrambled back from the closet towards my desk and window, and this guy slowly climbs out of my closet wearing a tattered, old, incredibly creepy dinosaur costume. It looked sort of like a cursed, hand-sewn doll, stained + faded blue fabric and black bead eyes. He has to sort of bend down to get the long neck and head out, but then he stands upright and is absolutely looming over me, and I'm still kneeling on my floor pretty much naked.

I know with full certainty that whatever the voice sent him here to do will not end well for me. So I quickly grabbed a dagger off my desk (one I'd looked at online right before the dream but didn't end up buying) and stabbed upward at him, right into his crotch.

And out of the wound came dozens and dozens of hands, all grabbing me and pulling me into the split seam.

Then I woke up and spent the rest of the day going "what the absolute fuck was that?!?!?" lol

The other one was less scary, but very emotionally moving.

I dreamed that I was an actor, and that I played the villainess on a power-rangers type show. It was kind of hokey and cheesy, but I was part of an evil power couple with another character, both themed after pollution (for the good guys to beat back, ofc). Like I think I was styled after oil and he was styled after industrial smoke or something???

Anyway, our characters are in evil love or whatever, and we were kind of flirting too. Nothing had come of it yet, but we had really good chemistry and spent a lot of time making flirty banter in between filming scenes at this park in my home town.

(Also at one point we, and a bunch of our coworkers, kicked the shit out of a truck with awful transphobic bumper stickers and ran away lol.)

Anyway, I wanted to keep things going with this guy, but he was really hesitant, saying things like how I didn't really know him and I needed to understand; it's not just his character, he really is toxic. Saying that it's better if we end it there and whatnot.

But then the show got cancelled and we all got fired. (Maybe partially bc of the truck incident. We didn't get caught, but there were enough trans people and allies in the cast and crew that we were suspected. The guy may not have had a name but he DID have blue hair and pronouns, and he was super understanding that I'm non-binary even though I was playing a femme fatale)

I said that was stupid, and that I wanted to keep seeing him, and he kind of relented and said he wanted to keep seeing me too.

Throughout the rest of the dream, we'd meet up periodically. I was doing some other stuff too (there was a weird nonsense segment where I was astral projecting to a Thanksgiving feast and my cousin spilled sprite on the stove and I couldn't clean it up bc I couldn't touch anything??? but that wasn't really relevant).

Anyway, I kept meeting up with this guy, but some things were off. Like, I'd try to call him one day and it'd say it was disconnected, but then he'd call me back from that same number a few hours later. There was another point where I walked the apartment building that I thought he lived in, only to see it burnt out and abandoned, but then later when I walked by again it was normal and I could see him in the lobby through the window. So I kind of assumed that maybe I was mistaken? Maybe I'd gotten lost? But then google maps also said the building was abandoned. But I was like, whatever.

And I had a really good romance with this guy, like, it felt like we had a very serious relationship for months.

Then out of the blue, he says we need to break up. I'm emotionally devastated, asking why, crying, saying that I really love him and I thought we were happy??

And he looks me dead in the eye and says

"Because I'm not real. And the closer you get to me, the closer you come to not being real either."

And then I woke up, feeling a profound sense of loss for the life we had together. I still remember him fondly sometimes, even though it was only a dream.

Anyway if you read all that, thanks for coming to my TED talk lol. I have a lot of cinematic dreams like this, but these two are def the wildest.

I’m so nosy what’s the weirdest, strangest, most insane dream you’ve ever had?

[ebonysplendor]

Fallen Devotion (DEMO) Review 🔔🏍️

TL;DR: "We're gonna be best friends forever, right?" "Mmm, I dunno. You get kind've annoying sometimes." "That was a trick question. You will literally never be rid of me. Even if I die, I'll haunt you." "All right, all right; yes, we'll be best friends forever. I was just joking lol." "Lol yeah...but I wasn't." "What? o_o" "What? :)"

Game Link: https://billetdoux.itch.io/fallen-devotion

Notable Features: Self-Insert, Yandere LI, Supernatural LI, Selectable skin tone, Selectable Pronouns, Multiple Endings Spiciness: 0/5 -- No spiciness here! unfortunately But! He does give us a little hug, which was really nice :) LI Red Flags: 1.75 / 5 -- History of stalking and kidnapping. He's not much of a threat, right now...at least towards us.

Wanna know more? Nah. Not if you aren't at least 18, you don't. Frankly, you shouldn't even be on my page, because I am no where near child friendly. Oh, you're over 18? Well shit! Let's get into it!

I was so excited about this game demo dropping. I was so excited about this game demo dropping. I was so excited about this game demo dropping. I was so excited about this game. demo. dropping. You hear me?

Like, the moment I saw the LI I was just-- those of you who have been rocking with me for a while know that I have a massive thing for alt style men, and baby, when I saw him, it was wraps. I had been crushin' on that man since I saw the initial screenshot on Tumblr.

Anyways, thirstin' aside, I'm super excited to tell you about this one, because so much went down in the demo. Now, am I gonna tell everything that went down? No. But, what I am gonna do is tell you as much as possible without ruining the game itself. Trust me; you're gonna wanna give this a try for yourself after I give you a snippet of what's going down, and bro, shit is going down.

So boom.

Our bestie -- well, ex-bestie -- is dead.

That's already a lot going on in that one sentence, right? Nah, it goes farther than this.

Basically, it started -- at least today -- from us waking up from having a dream. Actually, scratch that, because it more like a nightmare at this point, and it's happened multiple times this week alone. What makes it a nightmare, though, is that it's always about our best friend, but no longer best friend, but not because he's dead, ex-best friend.

Like always, we try to brush it off as best as we can and head into work for some much needed sense of normalcy and, frankly, some grounding. It should really be noted that these frequent nightmares are really starting to wear down on us, though. Now, why is that?

Because, now, we're starting to hallucinate -- ...lmao -- random text messages and attributing random scribbled notes to his hand writing and ish because of it. Like, we seriously thought we saw the man's bike outside of our workplace. The sleep deprivation is real, ya feel me?

"Lol, nah, that's not why. It's because you're trying to act as if the guy never even existed. Did you ever think that maybe the universe or whatever is tryna tell you something? Because, if I was him, I'd be haunting your ass. ...You look a mess by the way lmao. You own a mirror or nah?"

ಠ_ಠ

Leave it to our co-worker to be brutally honest with us. It's almost as if the comment about us clearly trying to forget our best friend, but no longer best friend, let alone non-living ex-best friend wasn't enough. Despite that though, we know that the comment is from a place of care, because we really have been trying our absolute damnedest to drown out all memories and feelings associated with our ex-bestie. It was so bad to the point where we hadn't even gone to the guy's funeral. You noticed how I haven't even told you his name? Yeah, it's that real of an issue.

Now, this whole thing escalates when these first-year college kids come in talking about something called "soul ties". We don't have anything better to do so we unintentionally but intentionally eavesdrop for plot purposes. So, uh, that whole "soul tie" thing that they were talking about? It's basically how, if someone dies and they still have some unresolved stuff from their living days, they can just kinda bunk with someone who they were close to, because, apparently, it's way easy to communicate through their dreams.

(⊙_⊙;)

Well...talk about awkward, because if that's not exactly related to what we're going through right now. Did we hallucinate that ish, too?

Just on the off chance that it wasn't a hallucination this time -- "this time" lmao -- and is one of those signs from the universe that our coworker was going on about, guess what we did when we got home? Hit up the Goo-gley. Nah, I'm kidding...well, only slightly. We actually did search it up on Google, but our laptop kind've crapped out on us, so we didn't get super far.

Actually, I lowkey lied again. See, our laptop crapping out wasn't a coincidence. As soon as our laptop went "😵", a message came up like "Always looking for answers, but never asking the source. That's crazy...". So, now, we're lowkey gaslighting ourselves because ain't no way that's real, right? But it's like...that's clearly 1000% real.

"Will you let me in...?"

(⊙⁄ ⁄ ⁄﹏ ⁄ ⁄ ⁄⊙)

...I mean, shiiiiiiit, when you look like that, I just might, ya feel me?

But should we is the question.

Friends...Squad...the demo came out so good, y'all.

Holy hell, this demo came out so. friggin'. good. I felt things. I felt emotion. I felt anticipation. I felt delulu. Like, damn, why'd our (ex) best friend have to die?! But it's like, the how? Like, ah, the drama!

But no, this really was damn good. Those of you that have been rocking with me know that I get slutty for art style and CGs -- I frickin' loved the art style. Like, it was just so visually pleasing to look at. Shit, Clive -- that was his name by the way lmao -- was visually pleasing to look at, you know what I'm saying? Like, y'all see this?

Like, disrespectfully, speak for yourself MC, because he sure as hell is my type 𖹭 ...visuals wise, at least.

Speaking of things being visually pleasing to look at, can we please talk about our coworker Dariel? Look at him!

The way that the dev drew this healthy (I think) Black man! Actual tears. I love when people draw Black people with Black hair styles. Like, that man's hair is thiquxe. That man has a dedicated wash day. That man uses gyah damn shea butter and coconut oil daily. Like, dude, fucking pop off. I always appreciate diversity in a game, especially when it's done so right.

But anyways, the pacing was phenomenal. Like, the way that it gives you just enough information and just enough "Oh, he ain't wrapped too tight" and just enough trauma and just enough drama and just enough backstory--!! The way that the dev put all of that together was so--!! Bro, I'm in love. Like, I am so excited for the rest of this game to drop. Like, yo, how far is he about to go? Because y'all don't know yet, because I didn't tell you, but like...bro, anybody would be pissed in that scenario, but it's like...Clive is a yandere LI, so that's a different type of pissed for him. What I'm basically getting at is: What is Clive Donovan -- fun fact that's his last name. I didn't know until I was tagging it lol -- capable of?

This is honestly another Perfect Love -- y'all remember that review? --scenario. I could honestly drone on and on and do an unplanned 60+ minute powerpoint presentation on this game and how much I love it, but I will spare you that. What I won't spare you is the pressure I'm applying for you to play this game for yourself. I really hope I'm not overhyping it, but I thought it was really, really, really good, and I am excited for you to experience that for yourself; I need you to experience that for yourself. I mean, the link is right here. Just give it a little clicky click. Hell, while you're there, tell the dev "Hey. There was some chick on the internet foaming at the mouth over this game. I now understand. You're really good at doing the thing, so...keep doing the thing!". Monetary support is always appreciated as well, so if you're in the place to do so, give them that extra "Thank you".

That's not really all from me, because, like I said, I could keep going, but I'm going to stop it there. Highly suggested to give this game a try, but remember, it's just a demo. Don't get invested to the point where you wake up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night and start obsessively checking the dev page every 2 hours for an update...I'm totally not speaking from experience, by the way. That'd be...silly. ...ANYWAYS!

Here's the link to the game once again, here's a link to the dev's tumblr page, and, dude, biggest preesh for getting this far, because I do tend to yap a lot. I'm glad you stuck it out with me, and we could hang out for a bit.

Please, remember to drink water, don't be dumb, and hope to see you around~!

Bro, Clive really does look good, like I want him to wife me up so bad...

Fallen Devotion (Demo)

Dev's Tumblr

[snowyhyena]

Finally finished the dangerous gift and made loads of doodle notes

Loved it a lot

Letting myself free to experiment with my styles

This helped a lot to get my ideas out quickly, cuz i have so many and it can get very crowded in my head and then I'll get sad and not do any of them :'D

Wings of fire - Tui T. Sutherland