#I wanted to challenge myself a bit since I don’t usually go with this type of artstyle (Idk I just Started outing random shit💀😭)

[drrobobitch]

Probably should’ve saved this for artfught but y’know…I’m just so skibidi I couldn’t help myself 😿

@maddieinheaven HERES LOLO!! Uhh not sure if it’s really accurate but I did my best 😭😭

[heart4gyu]

ten months love || heeseung x reader

note: i just thought of this out of nowhere idk but it turned out so cute ! it’s just sweet and lots of fluff ^_^ also not proofread per usual but yeah ENJOYY <33 wc: 1,889 words

you didn’t meet in a really significant way. no meet cute or anything like that, just a shared class and mutual friends.

the first time you talked to each other one on one was at small house party. just a bunch of close friends, light drinking and hanging out.

some of you had decided to go out and sit by the pool, no swimming though since it was too cold. you all talked for a while, about anything and everything and had some laughs.

in high school you never really had a friend group like this, you were close and you knew you’d be friends with them for a long time.

one by one everyone started to head inside; “i’m cold”, “i’m gonna go grab another drink”, “ugh i left my phone inside” they’d say as they retreated inside the house.

then it was just you and heeseung. he was the one you were least close with. but something about him made you want to get to know him.

you were intrigued by him. the way he was loud and energetic around the friend group but reserved and quiet on his own or around people he didn’t know.

to your surprise he spoke first, “do you like legos?”

it was random and completely out of no where. you’d just been sitting there in silence so you wondered how he had gotten to that thought. you just wanted to know what he was thinking, understand what was going on in his head.

“uh yeah, i think they’re cool,” you replied, after a second .

the pool chair squeaked as he laid back, copying the position you were in. “i bought a new set, it’s a bouquet of flowers,” he said, looking up at the stars with you.

you don’t know why but it brought a smile to your face. “that’s nice… i’ve never built a lego set,” you said.

“oh really?!” he said, genuine surprise in his voice as he turned to look at you.

“yeah,” you said, chuckling a bit at his reaction. “i mean they’re nice to look at and all but i just never thought to build one myself.”

“well, why don’t we build mine together? you can come over after our class tomorrow,” he said, and the amount of eye contact he kept made you look away.

“i’d love to,” you said, looking up at the night sky then back at him to share an appreciative smile.

he smiled back before looking back up at the stars. and you two sat out there pointing out constellations and talking about aliens until it got late and too cold to be out there.

that weekend, he came over to your dorm and you two assembled the pretty bouquet together. you didn’t know how intimate building lego sets could be until this day but it completely destroyed any sort of awkwardness that was between you.

after the flower bouquet hangout, you two were practically inseparable. everytime you hung out, you brought up something that sparked your next hang out idea.

the first time you went to his apartment, you saw his toy story figurines and he suggested that over the weekend you two could have a toy story movie marathon. you talked about things you enjoyed in your childhood, then you mentioned the mario movie and you both went to watch that together too.

he said that he was really good at all the mario games. he said he was good at any type of games and you suggested you both go to an arcade to see who’s better. and when the day ended in a tie, he challenged you to a basketball match instead. of course he beat you, but when you suggested a volleyball rematch next weekend, there was just no way he’d beat you then.

and just like that, every weekend or every other day piled up and two months had passed. even if you didn’t hang out, you two would text everyday.

you texted about everything. your days, your favorite things, your families, your worries and fears.

you could and did talk to him about everything. and those two months turned to five months. and he introduced you to his brother when he invited you to watch him play basketball.

not only that but your girl friends started to tease you about how close you two had been getting. you’d just roll your eyes and brush them off, “it’s not like that,” you’d say.

you thought they couldn’t be more wrong. you really cared about him and now he was one of your best friends. and the way your heart fluttered when his hands would brush yours as you both reached in to grab popcorn or steal the basketball from each other or attach a stubborn lego piece or to press the arcade machine buttons had nothing to do with any growing feelings towards him.

no it couldn’t. he was your friend. and you’d never had a friend like this so you wouldn’t dare say anything to him to ruin it.

and as seven months passed your day hangouts turned into sleepovers. even on your first sleepover, you were already comfortable enough with each other to sleep on the same bed.

it wasn’t weird or awkward. it was actually perfect. you laid a good distance away from each other and talked all night. neither one of you stopped to watch whatever was playing on the tv.

you both slept over at each others houses all the time now. you had clothes at his apartment and he had a toothbrush at yours.

by the eighth there wouldn’t even be a plan, he’d just come over and you’d lay around on the couch, binging a new show.

or you would go over and get your assignments done at his place to help you focus more.

in the ninth month, you two were just basically attached at the hip, an accessory to the other, a package deal.

you would grocery shop together, study together, be each others plus ones at parties.

but it did get frustrating the more people started to ask if you were together together. you hated explaining to everyone that he was just your friend.

… though what you hated even more was when someone asked if you and heeseung were dating, then when you’d explain that you were just friends, they’d ask you to introduce them to him.

they’d ask you for his number or be friends with you to get to him. you didn’t know the feeling you felt in your heart in these moments.

he was your friend, your best friend. so it shouldn’t be jealousy… but you just wanted him all to yourself.

“i think he’s talking to someone.” no, you knew. you knew for a fact that the only person he spent his time with was you.

you lied and you felt guilty. you felt bad keeping him to yourself, knowing that you’d never ruin your friendship by letting yourself feel anything more for him.

you keep him to yourself because deep down you know that you are in lov-

no.

no you couldn’t be in love with him.

you love him. just like any other best friends love each other.

before you knew it, you’d been friends with him for ten months. and you found yourselves right back in the same place you were when you had first talked to each other.

except this time, it was summer and you both sat at the edge of the pool, legs dipped into the water.

it was just the two of you outside, as you watched the sun setting in the distance. you don’t know when everyone snuck back inside but of course you didn’t mind.

there was quite literally no space in between the two of you, just how you always were. and you sat silently watching the ripples in the pool as you both kicked your feet around.

“you know, this is the exact place we were when we first really talked to each other,” he said, filling the silence.

a smile made its way to your lips at the memory, “yeah… ten months ago,” you said, turning to look at him.

his eyes finding yours, and you watched as his eyes dropped down to your lips just for a second. and you had to make yourself look away before the blush reached your cheeks.

he laughed awkwardly as he turned to look in the same direction as you. the sun was almost completely gone now. and for some reason the moment was tense as you avoided looking over at him again.

“back then, i couldn’t even think of anything to say to you. now, we basically live together,” he said. you could see him turn his head to you but you just looked down at the water.

the pool lights turned on then. “i know… i wanted to get to know you too, you’ve always seemed interesting to me,” you admitted, and he laughed to himself.

“can i tell you something? it’s a secret,” he said, angling himself so that he’s facing you more. you looked up him, a genuine look in your eyes.

“you know you can tell me anything,” you said, a sweet smile on your lips. he looked down at them again before he looked away.

“the first time jay introduced you to us, the only thing i could think was that you were the prettiest girl i’d ever seen. and that first time we talked, i only brought up legos because i wanted to build that bouquet with you. i wanted to hang out with you because i was crushing on you since i first laid my eyes on you,” he said, looking at you, hesitantly.

you couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth even though your heart was screaming at you to tell him how you’ve felt too. “… so all this time,” you started, still at a loss for words.

“yes… all this time. and the more time i spend with you, i think the more i fall for you,” he said, almost whispering. his cheeks and ears had turned a light shade of red, and he was fidgeting with his fingers.

you stayed silent as you thought to yourself what this all meant. “… uh- it’s- it’s okay if you don’t feel the same, i just thought you should know-,” he began to ramble before you cut him off.

your lips pressed to his, as you caressed his cheek with a hand. it was quick, just enough to show him how you felt. and when you pulled away, he was still shocked but a smile made its way to his lips.

he sighed in relief, leaning his forehead onto yours and holding the hand that was still on his hot cheek. he leaned in and kissed you again, more slow and gentle this time.

“if you’d have me, i’d really really like to be your boyfriend,” he said, leaning back and taking hold of both your hands in the space between you.

“heeseung, i’d love for you to be my boyfriend,” you replied, a soft blush rising to your cheeks. both of you smiling like lovesick fools, as he wrapped an around your shoulder to bring you into his side.

[my-castles-crumbling]

Hi Cas, it’s adoring anon (that’s a super cute nickname btw so thank youuu). I didn’t think i’d be writing you so soon, but something very very weird just happened so- yeah.

First of all, thank you. I didn’t mean to have you break rules or make you uncomfortable, so sorry if I did.

So I talked to him this morning and it was really nice. I told him that I don’t doubt that I’m straight, and that I know he’s a man, and that sex isn’t very important to me, but it doesn’t bother me what we do or don’t do, i’m happy to figure it out as we go and see what’s comfortable (don’t worry this ask isn’t abt sex). 

So i asked him whether sex was difficult for him, you know, if he hadn’t wanted to do anything cause he was afraid of me finding out he’s trans, or if he doesn’t like to do anything anyway. He told he was psyching himself up to tell me cause he was afraid i’d leave cause people have before (assholes, he’s amazing). 

Then he asked me something. On our third date I mentioned wanting kids. We’re at an age where it was clear neither of us wanted to beat around the bush, we’re looking long term and that needs to be compatible (we were also very romantic though don’t worry). He was a bit weird but said he did after I brought up the fact that i’d always preferred the idea of adopting kids over having kids myself.  

Anyway, he asked me if it was a problem, that he’s trans. I assumed he meant because he can’t get me pregnant. I told him it’s genuinely never appealed to me and I meant it when I said i’d rather adopt, if that was what he’d want too. And he agreed. 

It felt like a weird conversation, like I was already missing a hint. Looking back I think maybe he was asking if I saw this as a long term thing, would it be weird parenting with him since he’s trans? 

Obviously not, i’d always have wanted to teach my kids about all different types of people anyway. Or maybe he meant that adoption might be harder since he’s trans (I don’t know much about it to be honest- adoption). 

Either way, do you think I should bring it back up? To clarify. Or is it fine? It would just be to reassure him, I don’t know if i’d be bringing it back up unnecessarily. Like maybe he didn’t mean that and then it’ll seem like I’m having doubts. 

That’s not why i’m writing though. Something incredibly weird just happened, and I very much need some of your magic advice. 

I met his parents this afternoon, just left an hour or two ago actually. He usually visits them every sunday and now he’s come out to me, he told me he wanted me to meet them. 

When I talked to him, he’d mentioned that he likes to distance himself from the past before he transition, since he struggled a lot and faced a lot of challenges. He basically making sure I knew that he didn’t find it necessary to talk about his childhood much (he said I could talk about mine though cause he loves listening to me ❤️). Anyway, he said he told his mum when he was like 10 or something that he didn’t feel like a girl, I don’t know if that’s early or late tbh, but he said he mum supported him and bought him clothes he preferred and for most of secondary school he was- I don’t know- presenting as man? Transitioned to a man? A boy. I don’t know the terminology sorry.

Anyway, his mum had always been very accepting but his dad, his parents were divorced so he saw him on the weekends, strongly disapproved. 

When he was 17, his mother passed away from cancer. She left him a trust fund in her will, and the money for the top surgery he wanted. He had to move in with his dad, who wasn’t as much of a dick as he used to be, but still didn’t approve of him being trans. 

So he got top surgery at 18, and moved out. They’ve stayed connected over the years and when his dad got married, he went to wedding. His step mum is really really lovely and she basically whacked his dad over the head and told him to be nicer. The dads been pretty accepting ever since and he goes over like every weekend now (he says mainly to see his step mum and step sister though). 

ANYWAY. That’s the info you need to understand to know what the fuck just happened. Because I met said family. And the step mother and sister were lovely. But then I was left alone with his father when they were talking in the kitchen. Here’s what happened.

Dad, “So you do know he’s trans right?”

Me, “Yep.”

Dad, “I’ve met his past girlfriends. They’ve haven’t been good to him. Will you be?”

Me, “I hope to be, I really care about him.”

Dad, “Good. I’m going to tell you what you need to know to survive this relationship okay?”

Me, “Okay?”

Dad, “His name was ******”

Yep. That’s right. His dad told me his- I think it’s called a deadname. I don’t know much about trans people but I do know, especially after him telling me he likes newer people in his life to be distanced from his old one, that that was a bad thing to do.

Not only do I not need to know that. What the fuck has it got to do with anything? But also, that’s one of the things he clearly wouldn’t want me to know. 

Anyway, back to convo. By the way, i’m only not swearing at the dad right now cause I do want his family to like me.

Me, “Why did you tell me that?”

Dad, “They always want to know eventually. Curiosity would get the best of you and you’d ask and he’d get mad and this way I made it all easier.”

Me, “I appreciate you trying but I didn’t need to know that. I also would prefer if you refrained from telling me information about him, in that regard at least. He’ll tell me if he wants to and if not I don’t need to know.”

Dad, “Okay fine. Im just helping. You don’t even need to tell him you know it.”

Then they came back in from the kitchen. He drove me back to my place tonight, and spent the whole drive talking about how nice it was that his dad was nice to me and him and how much better of a person he’s become.

Should I tell him? And if I do, how? I think it’ll crush him. But I don’t feel comfortable keeping it a secret, that I know. Unless it would make it seem like I think it matters. Cause I don’t. Im happy to ignore what he told me cause I don’t care what his name used to be, but then is bringing it up just causing upset cause he’d rather just not talk about it? 

To be clear, I love this guy. I texted my friend and she asked if this deterred me? Cause it’s SO dramatic dating a trans guy? Please, the last boyfriend I brought home, my brother got drunk and kissed him, my dad almost sawed his thumb off and my mum poisoned him (he had an allergy). Family is drama. He’s still alive though, in case you’re wondering.

But I don’t know if this is like inserting myself into their family drama. I don’t know if this will cause drama. Or what type of drama. So… yeah. I’ll take some more advice please? ❤️

Hi again!

Yeah, I probably wouldn't bring it up again (the parenting thing) until it comes up naturally. But when it does, just reassure him that when/if the time comes, you do want kids with him, however works best for you guys.

As far as his parents. Fuck, that's horrible. Yeah, I would definitely tell him. I would start by saying something like, "I know you wanted to keep your younger years separate from your life now, and I totally respect that. But I wanted you to know that you dad shared some things with me. It doesn't change anything, but I wanted to make you aware. Do you want me to give you details, or no?"

That way you're not like "GUESS WHAT I KNOW YOUR DEADNAME." It gives him knowledge but also some space to consent and ask questions. But yeah, don't hide it. That could lead to feelings of betrayal.

You're doing great, hon <3 Let me know how it goes!

[shrinkthisviolet]

talk shop tuesday - obviously the nature of fic writing is that we're inhabiting characters that we're not necessarily going to share much with, but one of the best parts of the Morgan AU is the complicated and twisted relationship she has with Eowells and I just want to know how you've managed to do this so well given you've stated you have a very positive relationship with your own parents? How you manage to pin down all the shades and all the emotions Morgan has towards him?

Good question! You’re right, it’s nothing like my experience 😅 my parents are wonderful and far from the awful dad Eowells is.

To start off, I’m gonna answer the opposite question: how did I write how Eowells feels about Morgan?

Honestly this was partly taking note of how Eowells (in s1) acts around the Team, and extending that a few steps further. And also, for specific abuse tactics, a little research, since it’s ofc not my lived experience…and also pulling a little from Carla and Caitlin, since although Carla wasn’t as neglectful as Eowells, she still was neglectful, and there are still similarities here (the workaholism, the cold demeanor, the guilt-tripping, etc). Carla and Tina are in a sense foils…and so are Tina and Eowells, who are repeatedly contrasted in s1.

The key was definitely hammering home that yes, Eowells loves Morgan, and the rest of the Team, but not in a healthy way. And for Morgan in particular, he’s balancing her and his revenge plot…and the latter usually always wins, which results in neglect (a type of abuse) throughout her childhood. Most notably between ages 7 and 13, when he was completely uninvolved (luckily she had Tina to pick up the slack), but also to varying degrees after that, up until his defeat in the s1 finale.

And as for how Morgan feels about Eowells…well, I try to put myself in her shoes. And also, I’ve done quite a bit of research on this too: how abuse shapes kids, how it can turn them into people-pleasers (or potentially abusers themselves, but that’s not Morgan’s case, largely because of Tina + Team Flash’s influence) and change how they perceive things (a raised voice, a door slam) and even last for years afterwards. And how, not all, but some abused kids still want to love their parent—Morgan is one of these. It takes her a while to accept that while Eowells never physically harmed her, while he was superficially supportive, he was still neglectful and at times emotionally abusive, even in public. And even then…she spent so long loving him that it’s hard to shake.

So honestly, it’s just attachment to this particular dynamic*, an eye for the specific nuances, a very active what-if brain that focuses on characterization above all else…and some research to fill in the gaps, since I don’t know all the abuse terminology 😅 (also figuring out what a “mandated reporter” is. Caitlin, who is one, is gonna be hit with some major guilt for missing the signs 🥺)

*after all, this whole AU was spawned by “hey what if Eowells had a daughter/Jesse had a doppelgänger”, so ofc Morgan & Thawne ought to be a relationship I put a lot of care and thought into. And I’m glad you’re liking it! It’s definitely a challenge at times, but that’s part of the fun of fanfic writing tbh.

talk shop tuesday!

[raeynbowboi]

Pokémon Gym Leader League Challenge: Fairy Type

I like Pokémon, and I’ve seen people create their own OC gym leaders. But, I wanted to take it a step further by creating the League Challenge. So, what is a Pokémon Gym Leader League Challenge? You still create an OC gym leader, but you show their progression through the entire League: starting off as the first gym leader, and progressing all the way up to Champion. I’m aware that Gym Leaders are starting to be put in an unstandardized order, so for this mock-up, I’m looking at the Pokémon model from the first 4 generations, where you had to fight the gym leaders in a given order as they got stronger, and the Elite Four was also set in a particular order as well. Since Fairy is my favorite Pokémon type, I figured I should give it the honor of going first.

STARTER POKEMON: RALTS

Gardevoir has been my favorite Pokémon since I saw Wally’s my first time playing Ruby, and was so jealous that I completely reset the game ON Victory Road so I could get a Gardevoir. Now, while Gardevoir will be the ace Pokémon by the late game, Ralts has rather poor stats, and isn’t suited to being the ace of an early gym. So, for the first couple of gyms, Ralts will be demoted to a lower station in the gym while another Pokémon serves as the Ace, at least until it evolves, and can actually be worthy of being the Ace of a gym.

THE GYM:

For the fairy type specialist, the gym would be modeled after a fairytale castle. Typically, gym puzzles get more complicated as you go up through the league, so I’ll just say that the gym’s puzzle would be somehow linked to fairytales. Swinging between platforms on braids of Rapunzel’s hair. A poisoned apple being shuffled among non-poisoned ones and having to pick the right one to avoid a trainer battle for Snow White. Or, Having until the clock strikes 12 to reach the gym leader or else you’ll be sent back to the start for Cinderella.

THE BADGE:

I’m honestly really disappointed with the fairy-type Gym Leaders we’ve had thus far. They seriously both named their badge the exact same thing, and it’s just the name of the type? Really? The Fairy Badge? So, for my gym, I thought about the vibe I’m giving off with my gym. The present theme of fairy tales and the castle aesthetic. I decided to go with The Enchanted Badge and model it after a crown.

THE LEADER:

Given the castle aesthetic and fairy tale themes of the gym, I’d model myself after a Prince Charming-like figure, with red and pink as signature colors. I suck at drawing, so Baron Alberto from Rise of Darkrai shall have to suffice as a face claim for this hypothetical alter ego. Since Gym Leaders are usually named something punny or referential, I’ll go with Gym Leader Oberon, after the King of the Faeries in English folklore.

1ST GYM

Items: Potion x2 TM: Draining Kiss

Typically in a first gym in the early generations, you’d see a team of about 2-3 Pokémon, with the weaker Pokémon being about level 12 or 13, and the Ace usually being capped at around level 15. Typically, the TM is one that deals around 60 base damage, so I chose Draining Kiss at 50 base power, which comes the closest, and has the added benefit of a self-healing factor.

2ND GYM

Items: Superpotion x2 TM: Draining Kiss

I considered initially swapping Marill and Sylveon at this stage so that Marill could evolve, but decided against it. Sylveon is already a pretty strong Pokémon, and adding an Azumarill for the second gym in a region seemed a bit unbalanced. Luckily, this is the last gym where the majority of the Pokémon are stuck in their first stages.

3RD GYM

Items: Super Potions x2 TM: Dazzling Gleam

Now that we’ve reached the third level, most of our team has finally started to evolve. It’s usually around the 3rd gym that gym leaders start to really pose a challenge, even if they don’t have a type advantage. I decided to add Clefairy to the team because with Kirlia and Azumarill evolved now, we needed a new weak entry-level 1st stage pokemon, and Clefairy is a good choice, with decent bulk, but limited damage output. Now that the Gym has gotten stronger, I elected to increase the power of the main TM, and upgraded from Draining Kiss to Dazzling Gleam.

4TH GYM

Items: Hyper Potion x2 TM: Dazzling Gleam

For the most part, this is where our team falls off for a while. Between the 3rd and 5th gyms, we don’t really add many new Pokémon, so it’s just leveling up the Pokémon we already have. Luckily, the next gym will offer a much-needed upgrade.

5th GYM

Items: Hyper Potion x2 TM: Dazzling Gleam

Well, it took 5 gyms, but our starter is finally strong enough to be our Ace Pokémon. Ironically, Sylveon actually has a higher Base Stat Total than Gardevoir, so it’s actually somewhat of a downgrade, but I don’t care. I love Gardevoir, and it was always my first choice for being my Ace. Now, it’s finally strong enough to warrant that position.

6TH GYM

Items: Hyper Potions x2 TM: Dazzling Gleam

Finally at about the 6th gym is when Gym Leaders start to really augment their teams with TM moves and other moves that deviate from a Pokémon's level-up moveset outside of the gym’s signature TM move. So, I elected to teach Azumarill Ice Punch, Sylveon Shadow Ball, and cheated a bit to give Gardevoir Psychic to give it a better reason to be the Ace Pokémon. I could have just gone with a Togekiss, but I felt that Togetic was the better option at this point. It’s BST is higher than Clefairy, but lower than Azumarill, and it has a pretty good spread of type coverage.

7th GYM

Items: Hyper Potions x2 TM: Dazzling Gleam

So in case you couldn’t tell, I’ve been basing my Pokemon count and levels by the gym leader teams in Pokemon Emerald, as I recall that game in particular being a good part more challenging than Ruby and Sapphire, and stands out in my mind as the perfect balance between difficult while remaining reasonable. However, Tate and Liza’s gym is a stark jump in level, likely due to the tag team nature of their gym. Since I already have more pokemon than them and I felt that level jump was a bit high, I redistributed the levels based on earlier gym leaders, namely Flannery and Norman’s gyms, using the level cap of their aces for Gardevoir and scaling down accordingly.

8TH GYM

Items: Hyper Potions 2x TM: Moonblast

We finally made it to the final gym in the region, and I finally felt it was time to have Clefairy evolve. Up until now, I’ve been keeping it unevolved because most gyms have a “weak early entry” that’s usually unevolved, but I figured with it being the final badge in the region, the designated runt of the team still deserved to be fully evolved. I debated whether or not to evolve Togetic, as Togekiss is really really strong. Ultimately, I decided that two gyms with Togetic had been enough, and this is the final gym. Of course I’m going to evolve Togetic. With it being the final gym, I also decided now was the time to give my team the strongest fairy-type TM there has ever been: Moonblast. I’m aware that it’s not a TM anymore, but it used to be, so I’m going to count it. With the gym challenge over with, it’s on to the Elite Four.

ELITE #1

Items: Full Restore 2x

Now that we’ve stepped up from Gym Leader to Elite Four, it seemed important to show up with a more competitive team, thus including the nature and EV training of the team. However, this is not a BDSP situation. Their EVs and IVs are not perfect, just favoring these stats. But I also can’t show up looking like a pushover with easily knocked over teams either if I want my Elite Four team to be taken seriously. With the departure from Gym Leader status, I’ve taken to filling out their move pools with more type coverage moves. More importantly, I have to start thinking about type coverage, and fairy has two key weaknesses: Steel and Poison. The best defense would be to get Ground-type moves on as many of the Pokemon as possible, but that’s unfortunately tricky with fairy-types. I made sure Azumarill had Bulldoze, and gave Togekiss Aura Sphere for steel-types, and the other three have psychic-type moves to deal with Poison-types. Sylveon’s Hidden Power works differently than how I remember it working. Hidden Power now turns into whatever type the enemy is weakest to, which against a steel type, may just turn into the fire or ground type coverage that Sylveon needs, which is also why it doesn’t have Pixilate.

ELITE #2

Items: Full Restore 2x

And just like gyms 3-5, we’re back to the point where there isn’t much left to say. The team is pretty much set the way it’s going to be until I become Champion. So, I figure I’ll talk about the Hidden Abilities I allowed two of my Pokémon to have. I chose to allow Clefable to have Magic Guard as it’s a great stall Pokémon between Calm Mind and Moonlight. Making sure it’s immune to Toxic is a great way to ensure it remains a useful wall. But I still left an opening. I opted for Calm Mind over Cosmic Power, meaning it doesn’t raise its Physical Defense, leaving it vulnerable to moves like Poison Jab or Meteor Mash, thus keeping it from being a perfect stall wall.

ELITE #3

Items: Full Restore 2x

As for Togekiss, it mostly came down to its other two abilities not being that great. Serene Grace gets rid of Status Effects upon switch out, but as a Gym Leader, and later, an Elite Four member, they don’t tend to switch out Pokémon, or at least, not very often. Meanwhile, Hustle raises Togekiss’ Attack stat while lowering its Accuracy, and Togekiss is not a physical attacker. Its Attack Stat is a mere 50. Hustle would bring it up to 75. Meanwhile, its Special Attack is 120. It’s much more useful as a fast special sweeper. I could have simply stuck with the ability it’s never (or at least rarely) going to use and just gone with Serene Grace, but I felt that it was worth it to give it Super Luck.

ELITE #4

Items: Full Restore 2x

If this post does well, I’ll continue to do this as a series. You can probably expect me to do Water, Psychic, or Dragon next, since they’re some of my favorites. And if you like the concept, feel free to make your own. Don’t forget to tag me so that I can see all of your awesome league challenges. Without further ado, let’s get to the Champion.

CHAMPION

Items: Full Restore 4x

When it came to choosing the last member of my team, it all came down to type coverage. I focused on which Fairy-type Pokémon could learn Ground-type moves. My top contenders were Granbull, Dachsbun, and Galarian Rapidash. Dacshbun had the benefit of fire-type immunity and could learn Dig and Stomping Tantrum. Granbull had access to Earthquake, and Galarian Rapidash had access to High Horsepower. Although Rapidash has the highest Speed and BST, I felt that Galarian Rapidash comes with a specific drawback. If I use a Pokémon only found in Galar, then I would have to be a Galarian trainer, which would also mean I could only use fairy-types found in Galar, and Marill cannot be found in Pokémon Sword and Shield. Ultimately, I chose Granbull because it has the highest Attack stat, and gets access to the highest damaging ground-type move: Earthquake. Its additional type coverage moves like Fire Fang, Ice Fang, Thunder Fang, Crunch, Brick Break, Outrage, and Iron Tail were just icing on the cake. I made sure Granbull had Fire Fang to take care of Steel Types that might be immune to Ground either due to Levitate or a secondary Flying type. I also gave it Outage as it deals serious damage, but has the drawback of causing confusion, giving hopeful trainers an opportunity to counter Granbull, thus keeping it from being too strong. It is for the same reason that I’m not using Galarian Rapidash that I’m also not using Mega Gardevoir. It’s no longer an available Pokémon in new regions going forward. I would have to be part of the Kalos league in order to use Mega Gardevoir as the Fairy-type Champion.

[kris-mage-fics]

2, 7, and 33 for the writing asks! -em

Weird Questions for Writers post

2. If you had to give up your keyboard and write your stories exclusively by hand, could you do it? If you already write everything by hand, a) are you a wizard and b) pen or pencil?

Nope, I couldn't! This is purely an accessibility issue for me. I can't write by hand for very long before my hand really starts to hurt. Also my spelling is sooo much worse. When I'm typing I rely a lot on muscle memory to spell words correctly, but when I'm doing it by hand the dyslexia is really a problem. Like m/w get switched, or b/d, b/p, d/a, d/q, p/q, f/t, i/j, even u/v. Sure I know I want to write an 'm', but I might end up writing a 'w' because it's the same letter just mirrored. Or I'm trying to write 'a' but my hand keeps going so now it's a 'd'.

The thing is, I didn't even realize I was dyslexic until a few years ago! So until my late 30’s I struggled so much with any kind of writing and didn’t know why it was so hard. If I mentioned to anyone that spelling was really hard for me they’d always say stuff like “But you’re so good at reading!” So I thought I was stupid or not trying hard enough, even though deep down I knew there was something going on that wasn’t my fault. Writing by hand actually gives me a lot of anxiety because of all those years being judged for something I didn’t have control over. And honestly, I don’t think I would’ve ever trying writing if I didn’t know I was dyslexic. Because I still would’ve been blaming myself for being neurodivergent.

7. What is your deepest joy about writing?

Answered here.

33. Do you practice any other art besides writing? Does that art ever tie into your writing, or is it entirely separate?

Yes I do! I’ve done a ton of different arts and crafts over the years. My grandma taught me to crochet when I was 8, and that’s something I’ve done on and off ever since. Generally I crochet lace because the feeling of most yarn as it passes over my fingers gets really irritating, and fine cotton doesn’t. Also I like to challenge myself to make tiny, tedious things! I used to draw, but gave that up in my late teens because of how quickly my hand would start to hurt. Though I really miss it. I’ve dabbled in quite a few different types of embroidery: cross stitch, needlepoint, and drawn thread work. But my favorite is black work/double running stitch/Holbein stitch which I always make completely reversible with no visible knots because I’m nuts like that. I know how to sew, both by machine and hand. I’m not an expert at it, but I can do basic fitting and make clothing that isn’t very complicated. Quilting is something I’ve dabbled in, and would like to do more of, it’s so different than sewing clothing! Another thing I want to do more of is making chain maille jewelry, I’ve done a bit of it and it was really fun! (I’m purposefully leaving out quite a few things I’ve done because it’s already a long list, lol!)

My favorite art form besides writing is bead work! There is something so satisfying to me about working with beads. For one I love jewelry, which I think is a large part my grandpa’s fault (he was a rock hound/amateur lapidary artist, and he used to make jewelry for me). And I love both the technical/mechanical side of bead work, and the artistic/design side of it! It doesn’t matter if it’s bead weaving, if it’s stringing beads, or combining beads with wirework! I love all of it! Working with beads just clicks on a deeper level for me than most art forms I’ve tried.

As to whether it ties in to my writing, I guess that depends on how you interpret that question. I use a lot of lessons I’ve learned about creativity and my own creative process when I write. The way I approach writing is heavy informed by how I work in other mediums. And if it makes sense in the story, I will absolutely use knowledge about other types of art in my writing. Though I haven’t had much opportunity to do so yet. That’s only a matter of time, I usually give my own characters a hobby I’m at least a little knowledgeable about, so it will come up at some point or another.

Thanks for the ask, Em! Also I turned this into more essays, lol!

Oh, man I was looking for examples of some of my work, but I have hardly any photos of things I've made! Well, I did find a couple I can show.

This was done for a drawing class I took when I was 18. While I have regrets about adding color to it, I still think it turned out pretty well. I used a photograph of some rhododendrons from an old National Geographic as reference.

I made these earrings for my mom back in 2015. They're sterling silver and apatite with silk thread woven through the fine chain to add more color. The silver beads next to the drops are 2mm, and the total length is only 1.5 inches/3.8 cm, so you can see I tend to work small.

[harryissuchalittleshit]

hi!! 3, 8, 67

for the writer ask game

3. Describe the creative process of writing a chapter/fic

It always starts in my head, it’ll be a line or a scene and I just have to write it down. Then I’ll keep going through scenarios in my head over and over again, figuring out the words from there. Sometimes I’ll be typing so fast that II have to go back later and fix words, especially on my old computer. Sometimes I’m even saying the words out loud as I type them because I need to actually hear what I’m thinking.

I don’t really do outlines, I don’t really plan that far ahead when it comes to chapters. For long fics I always know the ending because as I’m writing I’ll imagine the next scene that I really want to write and try to get there in one sitting. And I always write in a linear path, I don’t know how people can write one scene then jump to another and then go back to the first.

I also finish every story before I post, I always have a posting schedule because I just need to. I know myself to well to post a wip, because the second someone comments anything bad about it I know I won’t finish it. Also I know how I tend to get bored in some fics and I don’t ever want to disappoint anyone.

My creative process is a bit messy, but it’s an organized mess to me.

8. Do you prefer the beginning, middle, or end of a story?

It depends on the story, or where I am in the writing, or just how long the fic is.

I like the beginnings when I know I got that hook. My favorite opening I ever written was for Lungs: “It wasn’t always like this.” That line always comes back to me when I think of those characters. It’s an opening that lets us know that we were doomed from the beginning.

I like the middles while writing, they usually get the fun bits, the scenes I had been dying to write since the beginning. The pub crawl in Invisible String or the fight in Evermore, we’re two scenes I knew from the time I wrote the opening words that were going to happen.

As for endings, I really love writing the “happily ever after” epilogue. Call me a romantic, I think my angst deserves a fluffy ending, also I love the fairytale ending and these are my stories, I want to give myself everything!

67. Do you prefer prompts and challenges, or completely independent ideas?

To be perfectly honest, it depends.

I like prompts for one shots because it takes the guess work out of the plot or characters.

I like my own independent ideas because I’ve created a canon within the canon of my own characters and personalities and just outcome for these characters. Sometimes I get prompts that come together with my canon, sometimes they don’t.

Either way I don’t say no to either and watch out for more fics!! 😊

[messruksi]

15 questions for 15

Tagged by @blackfeathercourt (thanks for that)

Are you named after anyone?

My second name is from my grandma and my third name is from my great grandmother

When was the last time you cried?

Yesterday but that was very brief

Do you have kids?

No and I don’t want any

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Sometimes but I make it really obvious since I myself usually have trouble understanding sarcasm so I know how much it sucks to take it too literally (allistic people say what you actually mean challenge)

What sports do you play/have you played?

I used to swim semi competitively in forst grade but I didn’t really like it, I was also on a horse riding course for a bit some years after that but it just wasn’t my thing. Currently the closest thing to a sport I do is going to places by bike

What's the first thing you notice about other people?

Their general vibe based mostly on the type of clothes they wear

Eye colour?

Green (it’s like a weird mixture of hazel/yellow in the middle, dark blue outer edges and some mystery colour in the middle but it looks green from farther away)

Scary movies or happy endings?

I’m a sucker for scary movies

Any special talents?

I can touch the tip of my nose with my tongue and I can also make either of my eyes move to the side while the other one stays still

Where were you born?

Finland

What are your hobbies?

Video games, music, art and crafts, learning languages and playing the trumpet (those are the main ones at least)

Do you have any pets?

Two Birmans and some fish

How tall are you?

165 cm

Favourite subject in school?

History or psychology

Dream job?

Game programmer (so basically a professional nerd lol)

Not sure who to tag so feel free to answer these if you want to ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[sachinaggarwalok]

Five innovative ways that Timers can Make Life at home easier

When we think of home management tools we often think of things like to-lists, meal plans calendars, goal planners.

I think timers are definitely in that list.

Time is a finite resource. Timers can help us get the most out of our time, as well as being home managers. They can also help in making parenting a bit more manageable.

Here are a few ways that adding an timer countdown to your home management toolkit can make life more pleasant and easier.

1. Self-care

This is why I'm placing it at the top of my list. It was a big difference when I started. As a mother, I have a hard time making time to take care of myself and allow myself the time I need. To make sure I got enough'me' time each day, I set up a timer. While it's not always uninterrupted, it's still more beneficial than none.

It is possible to start by determining the time that works most for you and focus on the things that are most important for your soul. It's worth it.

2. Cleaning

While at a cafe, I mentioned that I was working on this piece to three of my acquaintances. It soon became clear that there are two types of cleaners. The ones who tidy until they are clean, and those who are willing to do the dirty work. Four of us were divided into two halves.

If you're in the first group, create the alarm timer online and tidy up like a mad woman until it chirps. Then stop. Even if the floor needs to be mopped, or if there's laundry on the sofa. Stop and do something you like or focus on other things that need to be accomplished. You can always set a new alarm, but for now , relax and move moving forward with your day.

Set the timer to tidy up if you are in the second group. You must not stop, you cannot do anything else, and don't drag your feet. Make sure your home is clean every day. Even though cleanliness might not be your #1 priority you will appreciate having your home better organized and clean.

3. Set work limits and boundaries for WAHMs

A timer for moms who work from home can be a powerful tool for productivity. We are more productive when we have limits to our time and are more focused because we don't want work to be neglected when we had enough time. When we see that clock is ticking, we want to put our heads in the gears.

It can be hard to concentrate on your work while in the home with our children. But, we are able to be able to see the other things that need to be accomplished. If we establish an achievable time limit for finishing our work, we can tell everything else that we'll finish it when the clock goes off but for now I'm working.

A timer lets our children know that we'll be with them again and that we're just in need of a bit of time right now. It's much easier for them to remain calm and enjoy themselves as mommy will be returning shortly.

4. Go to bed on time

Sometimes , at the end an exhausting day, when my home is peaceful and calm, the last thing I want to do is go back to sleep. However, I have to go to bed.

The alarm will sound when it's time to go to bed. The alarm will go off and you'll be able to get prepared to sleep. No watching one more episode on Netflix and no more doing a project, no more putting off going to bed. Go to bed.

The idea was sparked by Beth's Go-to-Bed Challenge. It's important to go to bed in time. Setting an alarm will assist you in getting the rest you require.

5. You can get places at the right time

As my kids get older I let them run around more. Which means I have to work hard to be punctual.

So I set a timer to go off at the time we have to get prepared to go out. It's usually 5 minutes since we just need to put on shoes and walk out the door. Other times it's 20 minutes so we can collect all the items we require.

When I set an alarm I don't have to watch the clock because a beep will inform me that it's time to go. Then I'm on time much more often.

[hanazuma-inactive]

Hey, thinking back to your “conversation” with the Kaminari anon, I got an idea.

Basically- Y/n (M! Reader) and Kaminari are having a competition at work, and the winner will get to top that night. The competition is pretty simple; at the end of the day, they will count up how many civilians they helped and how many villains they took down each. The one with the highest number, is the winner. The two had done this challenge quite a few times before, and Y/n had won almost every time due to Kaminari’s quirk’s side effect. But this time, Kaminari had made sure to prepare. He had trained with Bakugou to try and build his tolerance and had also gotten help from Kirishima to figure out which streets were busier and full of people during the day. And after convincing his boss to let him patrol that particular street, it had all worked out. He had won the competition, and what was waiting at home was a long night.. kinky-

Take your time and don’t rush it, Rei. Have a nice day/night! :>

lust games (nsfw), denki x reader

pronouns: he/him (FEMALE ORIENTED DNI!!)

warnings: edging, flirty denki, vibrator, light bondage

a/n: i love denki sm ty for this request, this was also an amazing prompt

_____

pro hero chargebolt and h/n, always arriving at the scene just in time and occasionally a little late. the citizens could always depend on the couple to save the day with their amazing synergy and playful manner of defeating the villains. you and denki mostly patrolled near each other during work so the two of you usually help each other out when needed. or y'know, the blonde hero might casually stroll over to your area with a cup of coffee in his hand and lay a few flirtatious words on you.

"i'm winning today! and there's no doubt about it!" is a sentence you hear from your boyfriend almost every single day but never fulfilled his promise. he came close before but it never actually happened. this little game of yours started when the two of you started to lose motivation to work in general. knowing denki being the horn dog he is, you proposed this game. whoever helped the most civilians, or captured the most villains will get to top for that night. and ever since then, you've been winning everyday without fail, leaving denki as the bottom for the night.

he didn't mind as long as it was with you but a competition is a competition and he tries everyday to reverse what usually happens. little did you know today was the day it finally happened. denki had been training secretly by himself so that his quirk wouldn't overload himself as easily. it might also count a bit as cheating but he asked his friend, kirishima, to leak him all the locations near his area where civilians need help. in a way it's kind of sweet to think about all the things that he would do just for you. at the end of your patrols you tallied up the counts.

"56...57 and 58, how bout you denks?"

"56, 57, 58 and...59. i won! i won! you know what that means?! denki shouted and jumped in joy.

"alright alright! good job, i knew you could do it. i'll be waiting for what you have in store then~"

"oh just you wait baby boy, i'll give you the night of your life!" denki said while shooting finger guns at you.

you weren't expecting anything special, just usually what you do to denki but in return. what tricks could he have up his sleeves anyways right? you headed home with denki after that and enjoyed a hot bath and dinner together. you cooked denki's favorite hamburgers to reward him for doing so well at work today. the two of you watched some tv afterwards and relaxed in each other's arms, almost forgetting the big event for tonight.

"hey babeeee~" the blonde cooed in a flirting tone.

"hm? what's up."

"did you forget what i won today?"

"oh yah, you did win that huh. well, i'm ready for anything you're gonna do to me so…do your worst."

"with pleasure~"

denki picked you up with his arms bridal style and carried you inside the bedroom. he settled you down the bed and sat you up as he towered over you. not fazed by his actions you giggled a little at his attempt to top but it was still cute. your boyfriend gave you an angry pout and placed his lips onto yours. caressing you and stroking your arms gently while he was at it. you were usually rougher with him so it was a surprise to you how gentle he was.

the kiss ended with denki blushing and a smirk from you. despite all the preparations denki made he still gets flustered whenever he shares a kiss with you, it was adorable of course.

"a-alright! you won't be ready for this!"

"oh? let's see what you got, baby boy."

denki moved his lips down around your nipples. lifting your shirt up enough so that your abs and pink nipples are exposed, kaminari started to work on them. he was surprisingly well with his tongue. the blonde has been on his knees many times sucking your dick, but this was a different type of pleasure. it made you more sensitive than usual and you felt your cock start to rise inside your pants.

"wow~ look what we got here baby?"

you look down to see the bulge in your pants. unable to contain it any longer, denki took off your pants to reveal the cock that's been throbbing ever since he got started. he reached for your cock and started to stroke it while kissing your nipples. the stimulation from both below and above felt so good it didn't take long for you to start leaking some precum. seeing this, denki rubbed the tip of your cock and spread the precum onto the rest of your length for lubrication. he started to speed up his strokes and just when you were about to cum, denki stopped stroking your cock and focused on your nipples, making you orgasm from them instead.

the cum got all over your abs and some on denki's face. he gladly licked it all up and gave you a grin in return.

"just wait baby...if you felt good with that you won't be able to handle what comes next…"

you were a little scared of what denki was about to do next but excited at the same time. the blonde reached into the nightstand and grabbed a small rope to tie your hands up with.

"h-hey denks! what's this for?! you're kidding right!"

"ah uh uh~ this is to make sure you stay still for later hehe…"

you realized resistance was futile against your boyfriend and he had entire control over you right now. you let go of your defense and let him tie you up to the headboards. he reached into the night stand again to pull out an egg looking toy with a remote around it. you knew what it was but you didn't know when and how denki got his hands on it. denki placed it on the side and licked two of his fingers. lifting your legs up right after to prepare your asshole. he reached your prostate so fast and it felt amazing.

"f-fuck denki, right there...that's the spot o-oh fuck-"

"hehe~ these are just some tricks i learned by myself, glad to know it's making you feel good baby."

denki continued to loosen you until his fingers can enter and exit smoothly. it also wasn't a surprise your cock was hard again and dripping with precum. denki's eyes lit up seeing your hard cock and he grabbed the egg shaped toy he put out earlier. carefully, he strapped the toy to the tip of your cock and grabbed the remote control himself. he tested some different levels of vibration and found the right one judging from the volume of your moans. you started panting after denki finally settled down with the remote but you realized he wasn't done there. he won the game and he hasn't got what he wanted yet.

"alright baby boy! time for the main course, get ready for the night of your fucking life…"

denki took off his pants and stroked his cock a little. aligning the tip with your ass and slapping gently a few times before entering.

"oh fuck baby...didn't know you were this tight."

"hnngh…denki a-ah~"

denki struggled to fit in his entire length in your ass but managed after a few min. his cock immediately hitting your prostate and the vibrator on your dick getting you close.

"denki...please start moving, i want it…"

"you asked for it baby, here i go, hnngh!"

your boyfriend slowly started to move his hips, thrusting his cock into you again and again, deeper and deeper every time. you've never felt this type of pleasure before being the top and it left you speechless. it was a little painful at first but eventually felt heavenly. denki began to move faster because your moans became louder. his flirty attitude disappearing as he gasped for breathe in sync with you.

"f-fuck y/n, baby, i'm gonna cum soon, your ass feels too fucking good."

"please d-do, cum inside denki, cum inside!"

denki leaned over to you and connected his lips with yours while you wrapped your arms around his neck. his cock pumping cum into your ass while you came as well from his cock. both of you left breathless after the new experience you had. denki gave you a faint smile, glad to know you enjoyed it as you grabbed him back in for a kiss. leaning your foreheads together you two giggled, laughing at each other. he layed down next to you and wrapped his arms around your waist, you were pretty tired too so you let it slide today without cleaning up. denki snuggled into your back as you gave him one last kiss on his forehead before heading to bed.

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

Dear readers,

It hasn't been that long since I addressed something about my blog for everyone who follows it. Was it two or three days ago? But my blogging experience has been a rollercoaster lately. I'm not sure how visible the changes were, I tried to keep it business as usual, even though it wasn't. It's a bit funny how all this happened after a year of having this blog, although it was challenging along the way. For anyone who operates a blog, I'm sure you must know how it's not always sunshine and rainbows. I tried to keep that privately. I also never wanted to complain publicly or turn myself into a victim because I'm not that type of person and I never will be. This post will not be about that. I am in control of my blog and how I want to come across to anyone interested in my thoughts. But, I'm also not someone who would just take shit from anyone and keep silent. I don't do that in real life, so why would I start doing it now for a blog about a band?

At first, I thought that changing the direction a bit and focusing on more ''safe'' topics is the best decision. Or taking away the anon option would be the best idea. It's not the first time I thought about doing this. Or I found myself scrolling through countless asks in my inbox, trying to find what would be ''appropriate'' for me to talk about, but I just ended up skipping dozens of asks. And then I realized that I'm basically censoring myself. Which was in total opposition to what this blog ended up standing for. After all my posts talking about how a fandom tries to censor everyone who doesn't agree with the main narratives, or dares to say something that it's not to everyone's liking. All this in the context of people merely talking on the internet about a K-Pop band. I was angry at myself at first, but I also know that it's the first step people take when they get harassed. They try to protect themselves. I ended up thinking that maybe I've reached my limit. This is it, it was nice as long as it lasted. It's just a blog, I can delete it and move on with my life. But you know what? I've invested a lot of time and work here and I'm not going to let that go away. It's not fair to me or any of the people who come to this blog. I know what I stand for, I think of myself grounded in reality and no internet fandom bullshit can come to me. And I can safely say that I'm prepared for anything and I can fight back if necessary with the appropriate measures. Sending anonymous messages to harass someone has consequences.

All I wish for people to realize is that the stakes are so low. Is it really worth it? Is trying to bully someone because you don't agree with them, worth a reason to act so low and vile? And for what? To try and control what people write on the internet? No one will share the same thoughts and opinions and no amount of cyberbullying will ''fix'' that. There's an internet corner for everyone out there and looking at everything that I have ever written on this blog, I do believe I can have my space here. We can control what we see and engage with in a fandom. We can close the page, block that tag or a blog, mute words on twitter and then move on with our lives. It's that easy. It's all about minding our own business and not be complete dicks about it.

As I said in my post a few days ago, we take responsibility for our words. I do that every day when I make a post or answer an anon ask. It's for anyone using that option because they've situated themselves behind a wall, but with each and every ask answered, I take all the responsibility. Even for your opinions because I choose to post that. And my point still stands. I hope you send thought-provoking asks because at the core of it, this is what the blog is about. Funny/personal opinion posts are just an added bonus because I want a diverse type of interaction. I won't stop doing that. And because I won't censor myself, then that means I won't do that for anyone who wants to come to my blog and share the thoughts that they're too afraid to talk about anywhere else. So, send your (anon) asks folks, I'm here to stay.

[the-wild-wolves-around-you]

hear those bells ring deep in the soul (a katsuki bakugo/reader fic)

Summary: Pro Hero Dynamight was Japan’s Number Two Hero. He'd worked hard to achieve his position, his fame. And now it was all going down the damn drain, along with his hearing.

~*~*

Bakugo is suffering from hearing loss as a side effect of his quirk, and he struggles with how to face this new challenge. Enter Reader with a healing quirk.

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugo/Reader; Katsuki Bakugo/You

Rating: M(ature)

Warnings: Blood & violence. 

A/N: No spoilers or anything. This is just a self-indulgent AU fic with aged up characters. Everyone’s in their mid-20s. Fic title is from a song called “Achilles Come Down.” 

Ao3 Link: Here 

*****A/N Part 2: This post has now been updated to include the links to Ch 2

Ch 2 Tumblr Link: Here 

Pro Hero Dynamight was Japan’s Number Two Hero. Actually, he’d argue he was tied for first place with the current Symbol of Peace, Shitty Deku. Their victory statistics were basically the fucking same, the only difference was the freckled idiot was made of smiles and sunshine and stupid fucking sugar or something. The whole world ate out of his scarred, fucked up hand, and Darling Deku ate up all the media’s attention in return. 

In contrast, Bakugo wasn’t a “people person,” as Deku loved to put it, but… he also wasn’t the same fifteen-year-old brat who got muzzled on live national television. Pro Hero Dynamight was known for his crass, blunt language, his vicious streak of justice when it came to villains, but people also looked up to him. Extras cheered for him in the streets as he exploded past mid-battle. Children ran up to him on patrol and asked him to sign their books, their photos, their Dynamight merch. On one memorable occasion, that he may or may not have saved on his computer, a national news channel ran a live clip from a disaster site, a villain attack turned rescue mission after a building collapsed. The soundbite was only thirty seconds, a close up of a pale, dusty woman with a shallow cut on her brow. The splash of crimson and her bloodshot blue eyes were the only spots of color on her, everything else washed out in white plaster and cement dust, tear tracks carving grooves down her cheeks. 

But the smile on her face could have lit up goddamn Tokyo. 

“Dynamight saved us,” the woman had said to the news reporter, her voice full of awe and tears. “I-I got stuck under some debris, but I heard the moment Dynamight arrived, and I just knew we were safe. The battle was over a minute later, and then he just… pulled me out of the wreckage. He pulled us all out. He’s… the greatest hero I’ve ever seen.” 

That was a nice stroke to his ego. And the dazed woman had been right. He had pulled everyone out of that building, and not a single person died that day, which only confirmed what he already knew: 

Katsuki Bakugo was the best of the best. Deku might have been the better show pony, but Dynamight was an undefeated hero, fierce, fearless, ferocious. 

Except right now… he was fucking scared out of his mind. 

This couldn’t be happening. 

“What?” he snarled at the extra in the white coat standing before him. 

The man flinched and visibly recoiled, shuffling back a step and partially ducking behind his tablet device. When he spoke again, he’d raised his voice an entire fucking octave. 

“I-I’m sorry, sir,” the doctor stammered, but then he seemed to regain his composure and lowered his voice a little. “I… I wish I had better news for you, Dynamight, but…” 

He trailed off and swallowed, the jut of his Adam’s apple bobbing beneath the thin skin of his throat. 

“But what?” Bakugo spat, something like magma roiling in his veins, pops of heat crackling against his palms like splatters of hot oil from a stove. 

“B-But this… can’t come as a complete shock to you,” the doctor said as he glanced back at his tablet. “Other physicians before myself must have warned you of the risks.” 

The risks. Bakugo bared his teeth in a silent snarl. What did this fucking extra, with his soft hands and softer body, know about risks? The heat in his palms grew until he could see their red-hot glow out of the corner of his eye. 

“Well, who and how much do I gotta pay to fix it?” Bakugo demanded as he shoved his hands in his pockets. 

“That depends,” the doctor hedged and adjusted the square black glasses perched on his stupid face. “There are a variety of aid types—” 

“I don’t want fuckin’ support gear or aids,” Bakugo sneered. “I want mine fixed.” 

Now, the doctor’s face grew pitying. “I’m afraid that’s just not possible, given a number of factors, most importantly your current occupation.” 

“My current occupation?” the hero seethed, teeth bared again like a wounded dog, a cornered wolf, snapping at the world. “Are you fucking KIDDING—” 

A hint of fear sparked in the doctor’s eyes, but he suddenly raised a hand, palm out in the universal symbol for stop. “Dynamight, sir, I know this is distressing, but there are other sick patients in these walls, so please refrain from using your quirk.” 

“I’m not usin’ shit,” Bakugo snapped, but then the doctor’s eyes flicked downward, and Bakugo followed them to his hands, wreathed in sparks and flares of flames, lit up like a fucking Christmas tree. 

The breath stuttered in Bakugo’s lungs. 

He hadn’t even felt himself call upon his quirk. 

Even worse… he hadn’t heard it when he did. 

He dropped his hands quickly, shoving them back in his pockets. Bile rose in his throat, but he washed it down with blood as he bit through his tongue. 

“There has to be… something,” he gritted out, curling his hands into fists in their confines. “A healer—” 

“Healers are rarer than you think,” the doctor sighed and shook his head. “And what’s more, they’re usually specific and limited. Their abilities are tied to blood types or restricted to relatives or even limbs. One nurse here can only heal femur bones.” 

“Bullshit they’re rare, I’ve met at least two goddamn healers just this month,” Bakugo spat. “These paramedics—” 

“And how strong where they?” the doctor cut him off again, raising an eyebrow. “You said paramedics, so I’m going to assume their talents mostly lie in the superficial and basic: triage, stopping the bleeding, knitting skin back together, etc.” 

“What’s your fucking point?” He was this close to punching the asshole right in the glasses. 

“My point is the inner workings of your ear are much more delicate than a broken rib or lacerated arm,” the doctor said in a really condescending tone that Bakugo did not appreciate. “But let’s say you do find a healer specific enough and skilled enough to restore the hearing you have already lost without damaging anything else in the process. What then? I don’t imagine Japan’s Number Two Hero retiring less than ten years after his debut and hanging up his quirk.” 

Bakugo scowled, heart kick-starting in his chest, his gut tying itself in a knot. 

No. No, that wasn’t possible. Katsuki Bakugo was a hero, the best of the best. It was all he’d ever wanted, and he would be damned if it was taken from him. 

The doctor must have seen as much on the blond’s face because he sighed and adjusted his glasses again. “Exactly. Which means you’re just going to keep destroying your ears again and again, and even if say Recovery Girl was still alive, the repetitive healing sessions would destroy your own body’s healing factor, and after a while, you would still lose you’re hearing.” 

“Tch.” Bakugo looked away and gritted his teeth so hard they ached. 

The doctor sighed. “You’re already at moderate hearing loss, Dynamight, so while we do still have some options, they are limited. Honestly… I’m surprised you didn’t come in sooner.” 

He should have. He fucking should have. He’d been noticing little things for years, but he just brushed it off, yelled at Deku to speak the fuck up and stop mumbling, told himself his phone must be a piece of shit and that’s why he didn’t hear a call or message. The low persistent ringing he’d been experiencing since UA was harder to write off, but after a while, it was also easier to ignore. 

Then, on his last mission, Bakugo was shoving some weak ass villain at a couple of cops. The battle had lasted less than five minutes, and he was still itching for a fight, his quirk burning just beneath the surface of his skin, like embers waiting to explode back into flame. In the next moment, a hand had suddenly clamped down on his shoulder from behind, and he’d reacted out of reflex, flipping his attacker over his shoulder and nearly blasting them in the gut for good measure. 

“Whoa! Fuck, dude, it’s me!” Kirishima had yelped, his skin rippling and hardening in an instant. Wide, red eyes gaped up at him, and Japan’s Number Three Hero even looked a little worried. “Didn’t you hear me? I called your name like five times.” 

Bakugo had dropped Red Riot like he was on fire. No. No, Dynamight hadn’t heard his patrol partner. In fact, all he could hear in the moment was the muted wailing of sirens, the low murmur of shouting extras, and the blood roaring in his head. 

Now, two days later he was standing in front of a doctor who was telling him there was nothing more they could do. 

But that was fucking unacceptable. He couldn’t lose his hearing. What kind of shitty hero would he be if he couldn’t hear where the villains were in battle or where stupid extras in need of saving were in rescue situations? 

He wouldn’t be a hero at all, just a fucking liability. 

Bakugo tried to imagine having to retire, to hang up his hero costume, to leave Shitty Hair in charge of their joint agency. What would he do? He’d wanted, and planned, to be a hero since he was five years old. He had no other skills, not really. It wasn’t like he could work a damn desk job. Well, UA might throw him a bone, offer him a pity faculty position. 

The thought left a sour taste in his mouth. 

“What… are my options?” he asked haltingly as he snapped his eyes up and locked gazes with the doctor. “You said I still had some.” 

The man in the white coat blinked in surprise, but then he straightened up and tapped at his tablet. “Currently, you have a few options, but you’d receive the best outcome if we did them all together. First, we can get you fitted for some hearing aids for you to wear while you are off duty. They would significantly increase your hearing capacity in your normal day-to-day life.” 

Bakugo felt his face pull into a scowl. “Off duty? I need them while I’m on duty!” 

“If you wear them while using your quirk, you’ll ruin the rest of your hearing in one blow,” the doctor said with a straight face. “Hearing aids amplify sounds. Amplifying your explosions is the last thing we want.” 

“Well, what the fuck am I supposed to do then?” the hero snapped, heat flaring through his body with a supernova. 

“Since I assume you’re going to continue your hero work, I would recommend contacting a support gear company.” The doctor made a note on his tablet. “We’ll email you the contact information for several companies the hospital has connections with, and once you chose one, we can send them your file. There are numerous noise-cancelling devices out there, but given your situation, you will probably need to collaborate with them for something custom. The goal is to having something to protect your ears-- a helmet, headphones, anything really—while you are using your quirk. Between such a device and the hearing aids, I hope we can preserve what’s left of your hearing and maybe give you a little bit back. But I will warn you… you’re hearing will never be as it was. You should know that now.” 

You’re hearing will never be as it was. 

You’re hearing will never be as it was. 

You’re hearing will never be as it was. 

The words cycloned through Bakugo’s head, round and round and round, destroying every other thought in their path. He felt detached from himself, the doctor’s voice fizzling out into a muffled drone. His vision seemed to narrow and darken, like he was viewing the world at the end of a very long and dark tunnel. One minute, he was standing there in that examine room, and then he blinked and was on the street, people rushing past him like a river unbothered by the boulder in its current. 

He glanced down at his hand, at the paperwork for his follow up appointment and his fitting for the hearing aids. Heat squirmed under his skin, in his veins, like something living, something that wanted to get out. 

Bakugo bared his teeth, crumpled the paper in his fist, and let the heat rush through his body, down through his arm, and into his hand. He didn’t hear the crackle, but he saw the flares of light, trapped between his palm and the paperwork like fireflies. 

Then he opened his hand, and he watched the wind catch the ash and carry if off down the street, out of sight. 

He needed a fucking drink. 

~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Several hours later, Bakugo stumbled out of his usual dive bar, the taste of whisky still burning a hole through the back of his throat. The night was colder than he anticipated, colder than it should be for the beginning of autumn, and he grumbled and cursed as he hunched against the wind. He squinted at his phone, debating on whether to call a car, but in the end it was too much trouble. He was less than a half an hour’s walk from his apartment, and it was late, so he wouldn’t have to worry about extras coming up to him for photos or goddamn autographs. 

Besides, the whisky hadn’t helped to quench the heat writhing through his veins, in fact the alcohol only made it worse. Bakugo felt restless, all pins and needles and ants, so maybe the brisk walk would burn off some of that energy. 

Decided, Bakugo turned in the direction of home and began the long, stumbling journey through the midnight streets. 

Time passed as sluggishly as his feet, which he made sure to stare down at so he didn’t trip over them. Like he anticipated, he passed no one on the sidewalks, and few cars rumbled past him. It wasn’t surprising, this neighborhood was mostly shops that closed by sundown and a few residences. The dive bar he’d left was a holdover from past decades when this side of town was rougher, but Bakugo suspected the old man who owned the joint would live on for at least another decade, if only to spite the development companies that kept trying to buy him out. The ornery bastard was half the reason Bakugo loved that bar, the other half being their decent whisky and usually empty stools. 

“Shit,” he mumbled as he suddenly slipped, tittering on the edge of the curb. 

He shook his head and managed to regain his balance, but when he took another step, he wobbled again. 

“Come on, you drunk idiot,” he hissed at himself as he stumbled once more. 

Except… he’d been standing still that time. 

“Hah?” Bakugo squinted down at his feet. 

The pebbles around his shoes rattled and jumped. He didn’t think he was that drunk, but he slapped his cheek with a bit of heat to his palm. The snap of warmth and pain woke him up a little, but when he glanced back down at the ground, everything was still moving. 

“What the fu—” 

Then the road undulated under his feet like a living thing, and the shockwave hit him a moment later. 

Bakugo barked a curse as he was bucked several feet into the air, twin explosions blooming from his palms so he could right himself and land on his feet. He snapped his head up as he skidded to a stop, and the breath stilled in his lungs. 

Up ahead, a man stood in the middle of the intersection, staring down the road to Bakugo’s left. Black rubble and goo floated around him like asteroids trapped in a planet’s orbit, and even from a distance, Bakugo could see the crazed smile on the man’s pale, black-streaked face. 

A moment later, several heroes lunged out from around the corner and barreled straight for the villain, only to be blasted backwards as the villain flung out his hands and commanded the black debris and goo to slam into the idiots. 

The villain threw back his head and seemed to laugh maniacally. Bakugo couldn’t hear it, but that didn’t matter. Lava was starting to boil in his veins, burning off the last of the whisky, and Dynamight felt an equally crazed smile stretch across his mouth. 

This idiot had chosen the wrong road to fuck up tonight. 

Heat condensed in his palms like collapsing stars, and then he was exploding forward, the taste of ozone and nitroglycerin on his tongue. 

Within moments, Bakugo was able to determine the villain’s quirk revolved around asphalt. The bastard was able to pull large chunks of it out of the road and then liquify parts of them until they were scalding and sticky. 

The other heroes—whoever they were, Bakugo didn’t even care to check—struggled to evade the villain’s attacks, but evasion wasn’t Dynamight’s style. He came at the bastard head on, exploding every rock and tar puddle in his way. 

Of course, asphalt was flammable, so flames were flaring up all around the street now, but Bakugo wasn’t stupid enough to get burned. If the other heroes were, that was on them. 

Dynamight was here to get the job done. 

“Come here, ya sonvabitch,” Bakugo snarled as he blasted apart a chunk of asphalt aimed for his head. 

The villain shrieked out something high-pitched that Bakugo didn’t catch, and then the fucker was swinging out his arm, a blob of black tar following the arc. 

Bakugo let out a controlled burst toward his feet and backflipped through the air, crunching down on the roof of a parked car. He could see some of the other heroes waving at him from the corner of his eye, but he couldn’t hear what they were saying over the wailing of the car alarm below him. 

The villain’s sneer was a white slash on his black, goo-streaked face, and Bakugo bared his teeth back in an expression halfway between a feral grin and a beast’s snarl. He could feel the heat crackling along his palms as he contemplated his next move, but then the villain shouted something, and all the asphalt floating in the air rocketed back towards him like the fucker was a magnet. 

As Bakugo watched, the debris and goo coalesced into a singular shape, liquifying and hardening in turns until a giant black arm the size of a semi was hovering over the road. The fingers wiggled in a jaunty little wave as the villain shouted something again that was lost to the car’s still wailing alarm, and then the giant hand curled into a fist and dropped down on Bakugo like the hammer of some god. 

He exploded out of the way and up into the air right before the fist smashed into the car he’d been standing on, and the siren cut out with a muffled crunch. 

Bakugo had barely landed before the arm was shooting out again, but this time it wasn’t aimed for him. 

A stupid fucking extra had stumbled out of one of the buildings and stood gaping like a goddamn moron on the sidewalk. Several of the on-scene heroes rushed forward, but the hand swatted them aside like annoying flies. The idiot civilian was still just standing there, though, and Bakugo found himself airborne before he could even process the thought. 

“Run!” he roared as he reached the extra and shoved him out of the way, but an instant later, he felt stony fingers wrap around his torso and squeeze. 

Bakugo wheezed out a curse as the giant hand lifted him into the sky, the pressure around his ribs increasing with every second. The asphalt was hot in some places, too, scalding the skin of his left arm where it was pinned against his hip. He wrenched his right arm around and tried to aim at the wrist of the asphalt appendage, but the angle was off, and the few chunks he was able to blast were quickly replaced by more rubble and boiling tar. 

“Fuck!” Bakugo screamed as the fist clenched down around him. His ribs strained, his lungs unable to expand, pain licking at him like the flames flickering in his peripherals. 

Distantly, he heard the villain’s laughter below him, and as the arm swayed to the side, Bakugo realized he was right above the bastard. His vision swam, his ribs screaming, his arm burning, but Bakugo gritted his teeth as he aimed his right palm down. He concentrated every ounce of his quirk into his hand until it glowed white-hot, and the asphalt around him began to liquefy again. 

The villain’s eyes widened as he realized what the hero was doing, and the fucker wildly swung out his arm in a last-ditch effort. The giant asphalt limb responded in kind, but Bakugo unleashed his quirk right before the arm flung him through the air. 

A massive explosion rocked the street an instant later, and the subsequent shockwave slammed into his back and propelled him through a window. 

He felt the impact and pain as he struck the glass, and then… 

Nothing. 

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

“Ouch, fuck!” you cursed as your pricked yourself for the millionth time. 

A red drop of blood beaded up on the pad of your index finger, and you scowled before you sucked the smarting appendage into your mouth. It was more of a reflex than anything, since by the time you pulled your finger out, the pinprick of a wound was already healed. Healing such a small injury would usually barely even register to you, but the clock above your desk was inching closer and closer to midnight, and you’d been up since 6am. You also skipped dinner so you could finish altering the dress you were currently working on, which didn’t help your energy levels, but you were just a few stitches away from completing your task, so you hunched back over and powered through the next five minutes. 

When you were finally done, you sat back in your chair with a sigh and threw down your needle and thread. The sewing table before you swam and doubled as your vision struggled to focus on something, and you rubbed at your tired, burning eyes. You always tried to work reasonable hours, have a healthy work-life balance, but somehow you always found yourself slaving away into the dark hours of the night. You tried to tell yourself it wasn’t your fault. You’d lived here less than a year, so you didn’t know many people beyond your few neighbors and the old ladies who frequented your alterations shop. 

You were also trying very hard to keep your grandparents’ business afloat. 

Your grandfather had been a tailor, your grandmother a seamstress. They’d opened a shop together over fifty years ago, and if your parents hadn’t moved to America before you were born, you were sure you father would have taken over the family business. In the end, though, after your grandparents passed, you were the one to take up the needle and pull up your roots. You’d always loved making your own clothes, and you’d always felt… disconnected in America. Nothing had ever felt… right, no matter how many jobs you hopped around to. The US had been the only home you’d ever known, but when you and your parents spoke Japanese together, it had made something ache deep in the center of you, something you couldn’t name or place. 

So, when your father said he was taking a trip to the homeland to sell his parents’ shop, you’d gone with him and somehow convinced him to sign everything over to you. Which was more than just a little insane. Your prior work history had been in food service and clothing retail, and your degree was in linguistics for fuck’s sake. You had no idea how to run a business, let alone in another country. Thankfully, you spoke Japanese fluently, so that had been one less hurtle to overcome, but everything else had been a dramatic learning curve. Getting to know the new city, figuring out the currency, hell even navigating the vastly different social norms of Japanese culture was daunting, and you would be lying if you said you didn’t have numerous fumbles along the way. 

It, everything, had definitely taken some getting used to. 

Now, a year later, things were just starting to really look up. You had used most of the money your grandparents left you to renovate the shop, get new equipment, and fix the upstairs apartment you lived in. About two dozen loyal customers helped to pay your bills and keep you afloat, and one-to-two new customers walked into your shop each month just on word of mouth. You weren’t rich by any means, but you weren’t struggling like you did in America. You felt… happy here, if a little tired. Fulfilled. 

That might also have had something to do with your little… side business. 

You bit your lip as your eyes shot to your window guiltily, like someone was watching you. You weren’t doing anything wrong—right now, anyways—but for the last six months, it’s been hard to shake off your paranoia. 

And your guilt. Which was ridiculous. You weren’t hurting anyone. In fact, you were doing the exact opposite. 

But it was still against the law. Here in Japan, at least. 

That was another thing that took some getting used to. The Japanese government had strict laws on quirk usage, unlike in America where everything was about individualistic rights. In Japan, only heroes were given almost free reign, but even they had some restrictions on when and how they could use their powers. 

For the rest of the Japanese populace, using quirks in day-to-day life, without official permission, was frowned upon at best and illegal at worst. 

Because of your specific quirk, you leaned more toward the illegal side of things. 

Healing quirks were rare. That’s what you’d been told all your life. Your mother’s quirk was the ability to lower fevers by somehow using her own body to regulate the temperature. Nothing super special or powerful, but she’d gone on to become a pediatric nurse, so she had used her quirk to its fullest and made a long, happy career for herself. 

When you were young and your quirk manifested, you thought you would follow in your mother’s footsteps. 

But as a teenager, you’d come to some hard realizations about yourself. 

One, you weren’t strong enough to be a hero. You’d tried to get into a hero course in the States, several in fact. One course rejected you solely on your application, and then you failed two entrance exams. It had been a devastating blow to your youthful dreams and self-esteem, but your mother encouraged you, said being a hero wasn’t the only way to use your quirk for good. 

So, you turned your focus to medicine… and quickly discovered that wasn’t right for you, either. Your mother hated when you said this but… you just weren’t smart enough. You had tried, really did, but everything was such a struggle, like Sisyphus slogging uphill through the mud. It just didn’t click for you like it did for your mom. You also hated to admit it, but you were a little squeamish. You were fine with small stuff, cuts and bruises, broken fingers, but once you had to dissect a large pig in an anatomy class, and the smell and weight of the pig’s slippery organs in your hands made your lunch rise up into the back of your throat. You somehow managed to make it through the class, but directly after you ran to the bathroom and emptied your own guts into the toilet. 

With your dreams of being a hero and doctor dashed, you’d been a little aimless in college, taking random courses to fill your time and see if anything spoke to you. Then, during an 8am linguistics lecture you signed up for on a whim, something ignited inside you. Languages spoke to you like science and medicine never did. So, you’d changed your major to linguistics, minored in Japanese to feel closer to your parents, and took ever other language credit you could get your hands on. In between classes, you’d taken up sewing again while you listened to your audio assignments. It was just something to keep your hands busy at first, a skill your father taught you as a child until you abandoned it, but then your roommates complimented your work and started asking you to hem their jeans or take in their skirts. They offered to pay you, but you always declined, saying it was no trouble, you liked the work, and you liked being able to help. 

At some point, you realized that was all you had ever wanted to do. Help people. And if you couldn’t save them as a hero, you would find some other way to make yourself useful. 

So, you studied languages in the hopes of being able to help others communicate. You altered your friends’ clothes and made them small things like a monogrammed scarf or mittens. And, occasionally, you healed your roommates’ hangovers or food poisoning, stopped the bleeding when they cut their fingers making dinner, pushing through their pain to make them whole again. It wasn’t a lot, nothing really, but it was something, and it made you feel purposeful. 

When you moved to Japan, you mourned the loss of being able to use your quirk on others, but you shoved the thought aside and focused on your work and the shop and figuring out how to settle down in your first home on your own. 

Then, six months after you took over the shop, Mrs. Kojima, a little old lady in her seventies, had brought in her grandchildren’s uniforms to be patched and altered. She’d known your grandparents for many years, so she was always kind and had a story to share with you about your father in his youth or the gorgeous dresses your grandmother used to make. You always looked forward to Mrs. Kojima’s visits, and she always had a way of making you feel younger than you were, but not in a bad way. She just made you feel… nostalgic and safe, like you were listening to your late grandma talk over the phone. 

This was probably why, when Mrs. Kojima slipped and fell in front of your counter, you reacted without thinking. The old lady barely had time to hit the floor and cry out before you were hovering over her, a green aura illuminating your hands. Her pain hit you a moment later, like a heated slap to the face, a bone-deep ache in your leg, but you gritted your teeth and pushed through the discomfort. Then you moved your fingers over to the hip Mrs. Kojima was clutching, and a moment later you felt the drain as your energy siphoned into the elderly woman’s body. Thankfully, it had only been a fracture, not a full break, so you barely even felt the difference in your strength, but as Mrs. Kojima gaped up at you, realization struck you like a freight train. 

You had used your quirk, without a license, without permission, hell without the consent of Mrs. Kojima. Healing quirks were illegal for a reason, so many things could go wrong, and you weren’t properly trained. Your breathing hitched as panic seized your heart, squeezing like a vise, and your entire world had just begun to crash down around your ears when Mrs. Kojima sat up and threw her arms around you. 

“Thank you,” she’d sniffled into your hair in Japanese. “Thank you so much.” 

After the initial shock wore off, you had helped Mrs. Kojima into a chair, and she’d continued to thank you over and over again, saying how money was tight and she would have hated to be a burden to her children with hospital bills and a long recovery. She talked about how a lot of her elderly friends were in similar positions, dealing with perpetual aches and pains but having no way to pay for treatment or seek relief. 

The sadness in her face had twisted something in your chest, an ache you were all too familiar with. It was the one you felt after you failed the hero course entrance exams. The ache you felt when you realized you could never be a doctor. The ache of being helpless in the face of suffering. 

Your mouth had opened without your permission, and you told Mrs. Kojima that you would help her, and her friends, whenever they needed it. The elderly Japanese woman tried to wave you off, saying she didn’t want to get you in any trouble, but you had just smiled and said, “I’m fine with making a little good trouble.” 

You didn’t know where your courage had come from, but you let it carry you past your fears and doubts. 

So, for the last six months, Mrs. Kojima had brought all of her friends, and sometimes their children and grandchildren, to you when they were in need of healing. They always brought dresses or pants or blouses for you to fix as a cover, and you did do alterations work for them, but you also eased flaring arthritis, cataracts, fevers, and scrapped knees in the backroom. You refused to take payment for these secret services, it just felt wrong, but the little old ladies somehow always snuck large “tips” into your register when you weren’t looking. 

Mrs. Kojima and every one of her friends and family members swore to their ancestors to keep your secret, and you trusted them, but you still couldn’t help proverbially looking over your shoulder, holding your breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop and for the police to barge in and take you away. 

It hadn’t happened yet, but the worry of it kept you up most nights, which was maybe another reason why you threw yourself into your work until you were so tired you just passed out. 

You sighed again as you stretched and felt your back pop, releasing some of the tension in your spine. Glancing at the clock, you saw it was just past midnight, and you winced. You had to be up at five tomorrow—today, now—because Mr. Akane wanted to come in early before you opened the shop. His bad knee was giving him trouble again, an old injury he’d obtained as a boy. You were unable to fully reconstruct the joint—that took more strength and stamina than you currently possessed—but you were able to soothe his pain for weeks at a time, which he was immensely grateful for. He always brought you fresh fish when he came by, “gifts” he’d emphasized when you reminded him you didn’t take payment, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t appreciate the gesture. You weren’t exactly hurting for money, but you also didn’t normally splurge on fish caught just that morning, and you told yourself you deserved the small treat. Besides, the protein helped boost your energy and stamina levels, which meant you could heal more people, so really Mr. Akane was merely investing in his future treatments. 

Your stomach grumbled at the thought of food, and you dragged yourself out of your chair before picking your way across your messy apartment to the kitchen. The apartment wasn’t very large, one large space for kitchen, dining, and living room, with one small bedroom and one bathroom down a hallway to the right when you walked in the front door. But it had been your grandparent’s home for many years before they bought a larger house after having your father, and it sat right above the shop, so you never had to worry about running late for work.

Bolts of fabric, some client pieces, and a few of your own personal sewing projects were strewn over every available surface of the main room, but you had the cleared path through the chaos memorized, so you were tossing leftovers in the microwave barely thirty seconds later. The warmed-up curry and rice—another “gift” from Mrs. Kojima—tasted as good as it had the last several days, and you hummed as the spiced meat slid down your throat and settled in your belly. After the first bite, your hunger seemed to hit you in full force, and you scarfed down every last bite in a matter of minutes. When you were done, the minor headache that had been pulsing behind your eyes abated, and you yawned as you rinsed off the dishes. 

You set the damp plate on the edge of the counter as you reached for a towel, but then a sudden tremor, followed by a loud boom, seemed to shake the building, and the plate tittered on the counter’s edge for a moment before it crashed to the floor. 

“Fuck!” you gasped as you jumped back and away from the ceramic shards, but another tremor-boom combo had you stumbling, and you scrambled to grab the back of the couch so you didn’t fall on your ass. 

Your wide eyes took in the broken plate scattered at your feet before they jumped to the window on the opposite side of the room. The night sky was dark beyond, cut only by the dim street light just beyond the window’s view. You held your breath as your heart hammered in your ears, the hair on the back of your neck prickling, sweat slicking your palms. 

What the fuck was that? Your first thought was earthquake—you hadn’t experienced one yet, but you knew they were common in Japan—but then you remembered the booms. 

Maybe… maybe an electrical box blew? But no, the lights were still working. A car crash? 

Then another boom vibrated you down to your very bones, and you fell to one knee as the breath hitched in your lungs. 

That sounded… closer. 

With your heart in your throat, you half scrambled, half crawled the last few feet to your window, and you peeked your head over the sill just as a flash off white-hot light lit up the night sky. 

“Shit!” You squinted your eyes against the glare as you leaned back from the window, but then you saw a shadow streak through the air before it crashed into a car just at the edge of your peripherals. 

You had the distant thought that Mr. Takeyoshi’s vehicle was very obviously totaled before you realized the thing that had crashed into the car was a person. 

Your jaw gaped open as a hero pulled himself from the wreckage and shook his head groggily. The shadows—only broken by more flares of light as more explosions and fire seemed to erupt along the street—made it difficult to tell how injured the hero was. You didn’t recognize their yellow and teal costume, but you saw patches of blood along the hero’s bulky frame, and bile burned at the back of your teeth. 

Holy shit. This wasn’t an accident. It was a villain attack. 

Just as you had the thought, another explosion rattled your windows, making your ears ring, and you snapped your head to the side to see a man standing in the middle of the road about half a block down. 

The man—villain, you realized quickly—swung his arms around like a conductor of an orchestra, but his instruments seemed to be the black rocks and liquid swirling around him. The debris glistened like an oil slick in the light of the flames, and as you watched, the villain shouted something and slashed his arm through the air. 

Then a figure suddenly exploded onto the scene, lunging out from the shadows in a flare of white-hot light. It moved too fast for you to track, but the villain swung his arm again, and rocks and viscous black goo shot toward the figure still in mid-air. 

A futile scream of warning caught in your throat, but then the figure seemed to explode and backflip through the air, landing on his feet but crushing the roof of a car beneath his boots. The wailing of the car’s alarm split the air, and you clenched your teeth until they ached. 

The flames illuminated this new man’s face, a snarl of white teeth against the flames and smoke, but only the barest hint of recognition flared through you before everything exploded into chaos again. Another shout from the villain had all the rocks and black slime streaking back towards him, and you watched in horror as a stony black arm fifty feet long formed above the ruined street. 

You knew you should be running, trying to find cover, calling the police, but you were glued there, on your knees before the window, you fingers digging grooves into the sill. 

The next fifteen seconds seemed to simultaneously happen in slow motion and at hyper speed. 

The giant rocky hand wiggled its fingers before it curled into a fist and slammed down on the wailing car and the man atop it. 

The man—hero, you distantly thought, although your chaotic thoughts still couldn’t place him—launched up into the air with another explosion that rattled your windows, the car alarm cutting off as the vehicle was crushed an instant later. 

The blond skidded into a landing half a dozen yards away, but then you suddenly saw Mr. Takeyoshi standing on the street, a ghostly apparition framed by smoke and flames. 

You blinked, and the giant hand shot toward Mr. Takeyoshi, batting away several more heroes who tried to intervene. 

Then the explosive hero was just there, pushing Mr. Takeyoshi out of the way, right before the hand wrapped around him. 

You could hear the hero’s anguished scream through your window as he was crushed in the fist’s grip, and the sound hit you right in the solar plexus, knocking the breath out of you, bruising your insides, the pain settling into the familiar ache of being helpless in the face of suffering. 

You watched uselessly as the hero was lifted up into the sky, struggling, setting off explosions left and right. Then the massive arm seemed to pause in the middle of the road, right above the villain, and your eyes locked onto the hero, his pale hair and skin stark against the black, rocky hand that held him trapped. 

In the next instant, a white light, like a star going supernova, bloomed to life around the hero, illuminating the white slash of his snarling teeth before it became too bright for you to take. You slammed your eyes shut against the burning light, and the hair on the back of your neck stood on end, like the moment before lightning struck, as you dropped to the floor below your window. 

Then the world exploded, the building shaking to its foundations, right before the window burst into a million shards of glass.

[softkuna]

Toji Fushiguro || Toy || Fic

The Sukuna one had me like ✨✨✨ Now I must ask, can you- a toji x fem reader and him seeing Gojo eyeing up what's his and her responding to it and then toji being like oh hell no and basically railing her as punishment (degrading kink please it makes me jello) you don't have to write it if your not comfortable btw take your time and stay safe.

Content   ║ Toji Fushiguro x Fem Insert. Toji’s shoulder pressed into the wall with such a force the damn thing could’ve dented. Arms crossed tensely against the broad puff of his chest. His teeth ground together, the sound of squeaking canines reverberating in his mind.  Toji was seething. For a man with the physical prowess of a god, his tolerance was about as thin as a wet napkin. A wet napkin this woman decided to poke a well-manicured finger into.

Count      ║ 1,311 words.

Consider ║ NSFW. Degradation Kink. Objectification. Female Insert (she/her). Alcohol. Grammar issues. Basic degeneracy.

Creator    ║ So this is the first NSFW thing I have done like this ;v;. I’m not sure if this hit the mark for ya Anon, but hopefully it’ll do until I can get some more practice. It took a little while since I wasn’t exactly sure what I was doing. Honestly this just feels subpar gomen. Enjoy jealous Toji, though -finger guns-.

The club was barely lit with black light and neon strewn about the solid concrete walls in seemingly random intervals. A particularly bright hot pink one cast across her collarbone, dowsing the tops of her breasts deliciously in contrast to the black latex dress. As much as Toji would like to shove her against that very wall, she had a job to do. For him. And he regretted it.

  She was pushing her luck when she approached the table with a certain sway to her hips. Gojou peered around the tinted sunglasses, brow piqued in interest. She flashed a smile, smoothly setting a large bottle of some random high percentage alcohol onto the table. Sliding into the booth next to Satoru, the woman leaned a hand on his leg, the other moving to playfully snap the strap of a birthday hat under his chin, “I hear it’s someone’s birthday?”

  His head tilted up along with the corners of his lips, “Guilty as charged. Are you my present, doll? Always heard the hostesses here were the best,” His voice purred against the thrum of the bass. She tucked hair behind her ear, eyes flickering back to the ravenette with a dangerous composition. The corner of her mouth twitched up at the obvious frustration resonating in the man. He couldn’t touch her. Couldn’t even dream of it if he wanted any semblance of information on this guy. It was the perfect opportunity to test a theory. Toji was the jealous type.

  Toji’s shoulder pressed into the wall with such a force the damn thing could’ve dented. Arms crossed tensely against the broad puff of his chest. His teeth ground together, the sound of squeaking canines reverberating in his mind.  Toji was seething. For a man with the physical prowess of a god, his tolerance was about as thin as a wet napkin. A wet napkin this woman decided to poke a well-manicured finger into.

  He slammed down a shot, the burn at the back of his throat accompanying the burn of his own gaze. She wasn’t anything to him aside from an in. Yet somehow, the not-so-shaman made it a point to speak with her at least once a week, which usually lead into fucking her like a play thing. The lay was just as good as the information she could pry out of loose mouths. Immaculate. This go around, he needed information on someone in particular. Someone who just so happened to be here with a group. Someone who decided it would be a good idea to get a little handsy with his toy.

  “Y’know,” Satoru murmured, “’s pretty sad to be alone in bed for my birthday.” Chilled pads of his fingers rested at the back of her neck. His gaze was hungry and she was a full course meal. Just his type. Perfect shape, perfect charm, perfect headrush. Her hand cupped his ear, whispering something his buzzing mind couldn’t fully piece together against the dense music.  

  She kept up the sweet act despite not getting a lick of information. The only dirt she dug up was that he could finish half a handle before getting buzzed. By the end of the night, Gojou’s hands squeezed at her thigh like he did her last string of patience.  

  The last thing Toji saw was the exchange of cards.

  -

  As the black-clad hostess passed by Toji, her hand trailed along the muscles of his chest, stiletto nails pressing just slightly into him. He followed close behind until they got to their regular spot. A private room tucked into the corner of the club. Commonly used for rich men thirsting to empty their wallets on a good lap dance. It was sound proofed, dimly lit, and somehow hot pink velvet was a prime design choice to set a steamy mood.

  She crossed her arms, gaze hard as the door shut, “So, I’ve got bad new. He didn’t let a word slip-“ The sentence stopped as soon as it began.

  “So doll’s got a sense of humor, huh?” His voice held an edge to match the snide smirk flashing over pointed canines. She knew exactly what was up and oh was it a dangerously delectable sight. One that made her cunt throb on nothing but adrenaline. The crease of his brow, the way his lips set into that hairpin curl, the tensing of each thick muscle along his arm – all of it leaving a sense of satisfaction in the pit of her stomach. Theory confirmed. He took a step closer; she didn’t shrink away. A lost challenge if he’d say so himself.

  A large calloused hand shoved her onto cushions of the booth, catching her open mouth in his own with a bruising force. The man wasted no time with his prodding tongue, tasting the sweetness of peppermint and lapping it up while fending off her own slick muscle.  A hand snaked into the roots of her perfectly done hair, white-knuckling just at the base of the skull. With a sharp yank, her head was yanked back, allowing break for air. Smug and breathless, she chimed, “Jealous?”

  Toji blew air out in a single blackened laugh, “I’m not one to share my toys.” Teeth connected to her lips, rolling the flesh then moving to her throat. Purple marked his territory trailing down. The heat of his breath tickled the space directly next to her ear, “Now, you’re going to beg for me to forgive you. Make myself clear, slut?” Toji’s grip on her tightened, “Or is doll better for something getting used?” A rough tug to the back of her hair triggered a low moan from her heaving chest. After so many sessions, she knew he didn’t really want an answer. He wanted a reason go harder.  

  The hand once in her hair now gripped her jaw, keeping her gaze on him, “Answer me, toy. Or do I need to pull a string to make that cock-obsessed mouth move?” On que, free digits wrapped around the gusset of her thong, second knuckle just grazing the entrance of her heat before he pulled the sodden fabric taught, letting it snap back to place. The impact triggered another empty clench and gasp. Her hips writhed, a sappy pout puffing the bitten lips. More.

  Toji maintained her heavy-lidded stare as he brought the knuckle to his lips. He watched as her own parted when his tongue swept up the sweetness collected at the joint. The way her hips rose to match the zipper’s height, the lock of her teeth on her finger, the desperation in her eyes – all of it made his stiffened cock twitch against her adorably hopeless grinding, “Looks like my toy is broken. Guess I’ll just fuck the apology out of it then.”

  A wicked grin whipped onto his handsome face. Her mouth opened in rebuttal, only to get interrupted, “This is to teach a lesson, toy. What did you do to deserve the prep?” The gravel in his tone grew slightly dark, “Couldn’t even get the dirt I paid for.” His long digits did work past the gusset, slipping over her entrance, gathering the arousal, “Look how wet you already are for me.” A heated coil pressed in her at the words. She knew what was coming now and every inch of her craved it.

  In what seemed to be a single motion, jeans and boxers were torn down. Her dress was hiked up with a satisfying peel, thong quite literally ripped off and thrown to the ground before she was flipped so that her back was pressed against his chest. Sturdy, veined arms wrapped at the backs of her thighs and under her knees. Truly, she was a doll for him to pleasure himself on and he made it a point to do so.

  Toji lowered her so that the thick tip of his length pressed against her heart-beating heart. Her walls fluttered around him as he slid in. “For a broken toy, you’re pretty damn tight for me - ready to be played with. Get used- fuck.” Amusement broke through as she bit back a breathless sigh. His cock filled her easily, slick sliding down his shaft and pooling at the base. As he fully sheathed himself, he craned his neck forward, lips pressing at the shell of her ear, “Now, I want to hear you beg, bitch.” With that, the man snaked back and up, setting a relentless pace from the beginning. The sound of skin slamming into wettened skin filling the room along with the aroma of arousal.

  She was stubborn. He was tireless. They’d both cum before the apology even had a chance to.

[mbti-notes]

Hi, mbti notes, I hope you had a good break. I’ve noticed I can be a bit passive. I’m not always aware of it but every once in a while it’ll become apparent. For example, at work, I’ll register something in my mind (the customer needs clarification, the trash bin is full) but what I DON’T register is that I should/could act on it. It is only when a coworker jumps in to solve it, OR say something about it, that I realize, “Oh. I guess I could’ve done something/said something, too.”

[con’t: It is a little frustrating when I realize they said something I was already thinking but I just kept it to myself. Like I was one step away from being a more proactive worker. Not sure where this stems from. Maybe my introversion, maybe also the fact that growing up, my parent took responsibility for nearly everything. They are the I-don’t-trust-anyone-else-to-do-this-right type and doesn’t-accept-help type. So around the house I didn’t cook and rarely did chores. When I suggested getting a job as a teen they said I should just focus on school instead. In retrospect I realize I should’ve gone for the job and done more chores but I think my Ni was in overdrive — I was way more focused on writing, TV shows, and movies instead. I didn’t know what being independence or taking responsibility meant. This has kind of become a bad thing in adulthood (early twenties). I have an INTJ family member that’s VERY tidy, so when I’m messy, they make a note of it. I’ve been trying to be more aware. When I register a mess, I tell myself, “Don’t just walk past it, clean it.” So I’ve gotten a lot better. But every once in a while I miss something. Like I registered a fruit was going bad in the fruit bowl but put off throwing it away until my tidy family member discovered that it had mold on it. And in my head I’m like, “I could’ve just thrown it out the moment I noticed it was going bad. Why didn’t I?” And I really don’t know. Is this typical for an INFJ (my type)? How do I practice acting on my instincts?]

Do you believe that it’s important to be independent? What are the benefits of independence and are they worth your attention and effort? Independence is a state of mind that is nurtured by taking full responsibility for yourself and everything you touch. It is not a state of mind that is achieved overnight, especially given your background of being robbed of opportunities to learn responsibility. To nurture an independent state of mind requires that you continually refuse the “default mode” of waiting for others to step in. For example: If you want to live in a clean environment, YOU make it happen by cleaning it up. If you want your life to be better, YOU make it happen by changing what doesn’t work. If you want to have better discipline, YOU make it happen by implementing a strategy. But, do you actually WANT these things? To make something happen, you have to care enough to take action. If you don’t really care, then it’s all too easy to handwave things away, isn’t it?

Lack of caring usually relates to poor Fe development in INFJs. Fe development is required for feeling a strong sense of connection to the world and a strong sense of responsibility for creating a positive environment for everyone, including yourself. Healthy Fe doms understand how people are affected by the environment and, thus, they take it upon themselves to actively create a positive and supportive environment. Service and contribution allow Fe doms to feel pride through making life better for people. When your social presence is weak and your social contribution is minimal to nothing, it leads you into feeling invisible and insignificant and, eventually, worthless - this is the end result of not developing Fe well.

If something doesn’t bother you, it may bother someone else, such as the rotting fruit that may even become a health hazard. Do you care about anyone else’s experience but your own? Be honest. If not, then perhaps you suffer a dual problem: 

Ni fail: You don’t care enough about yourself and the kind of person you aspire to be. INFJs express themselves through their ideals. If you have no ideals and don’t aspire to anything, then what reason do you have to change your passive behavior? 

Fe fail: You don’t care enough about the impact that your existence has in the world. If you are oblivious to the world around you, then how will you ever spot opportunities to show initiative and make things better?

You seem to have achieved a bit of progress since becoming aware of the problem. Just remember that changing your state of mind is a gradual process of increasing your awareness of the problem and acting to resolve it, so keep plugging away at it. It always helps to set some concrete goals and objectives, so that progress is quantifiable or measurable. Be creative in setting up challenges for yourself that allow you to observe your progress in action.

[bestiesenpai]

Perfect Student - Geto Suguru

I love slimy Geto :) although i’m not sure how slimy he actually is here lol femme reader, 3k words

TW: manipulation, abuse of power(?), dubcon, biting(not a lot), spanking

You weren’t the best university student, you were willing to admit. A few classes skipped than deemed appropriate, a couple missed assignments you’d rather not think about again, and some test scores that were down right abysmal.

But you shouldn’t be failing your class completely! A string of low grades on your last few assignments was worrying you. You understood the course material just fine, yet your work was apparently not reflecting it. Making an appointment with your professor, you could only hope he’d shed some light onto the situation.

“Mr. Geto?” Knocking on his office door, you found it swung open with ease. It was late afternoon, no need for any lights to be on in his office as the large window to the side got plenty of light from the slowly setting sun.

“Ah, you’re here.” He smiled at you from behind his desk, his hair in that familiar half bun he sports. The sleeves of the button up he’d had on during class are pushed up past his elbows, revealing his taut forearms. “Take a seat.” He makes a sweeping gesture to the swanky brown leather armchair on the other side of the desk.

“Thanks.” You said quietly, stiffly sitting in the chair and avoiding his narrowed eyes looking you over. You weren’t usually so nervous, you talked up a bit in class if you knew the answer, but being here with the warmth of the sun heating half your face and your admittedly very attractive teacher staring at you, it made your heart thump harder.

“So, what did you want to talk to me about?” Geto leans forward, resting his elbows on the table and his head in his hands.

“Well sir, I’ve noticed my grades haven’t been the best recently on some of the work I’ve turned in?” You don’t mean to phrase it like a question and it makes your cheeks burn. “A-and I understand the material for this lesson pretty well, so I- so I, uh…” Losing your train of thought, you glance at Geto’s unreadable expression.

“So you came to get a better grade? Let me pull up your grades on the computer and see.” Turning to the monitor sitting on the desk corner, Geto types away. With his focus not on you, you can finally breathe a little easier. “Oh (Y/N)...” Geto tsks and it makes you worry.

“What?” Wide eyed, you lean forward to try and see what he sees.

“I’m just looking at your past grades and you’ve got quite a bit of missing work.”

“Y-yes I know but-”

“But nothing.” He says it softly but it still manages to shut you up. “Care to explain why that happened?”

Truthfully, you had no reason other than laziness. You’d missed one, then it spiraled into two, three- you’d managed to catch up before it got too bad, though, or at least so you thought. You stayed silent, eyes tracing the wood grains in the desk.

“Hm, no answer. That’s a shame.” Clicking a few things, Geto ticked a brow upwards. “Looking at your recent work, I don’t know if there’s anything you can do.”

“What?” That makes your head snap up in fear. It was only the middle of the term, surely your grade wasn’t that far gone? “Mr. Geto, what-”

“Call me Suguru, please. It’s just us here, we aren’t in class.” He cuts you off with a raise of his hand and an easy smile.

“Suguru…” You say it slowly, worrying your lip briefly. “My grade can’t be that bad already that there’s nothing I can do.”

“Take a look for yourself.” Turning the monitor towards you, Suguru’s smile got bigger seeing your devastated face. Your grade was beyond horrible, the number on the top of the screen making your stomach churn.

“But I...I just checked it for myself not too long ago. How could it have changed like that?” Leaning back in your chair in shock, thoughts spiraled in your head. Lost in your own world, you didn’t pay any attention to your teacher.

He stood up slowly, brushing down the front of his shirt as he tucked in his chair. Shuffling a few things on his desk to the side, he smoothed his hand on the empty space he created as he rounded the corner, leaning against it as he stood in front of you.

“What can I do to fix my grade?” Looking up at him, Suguru nearly cooed at the pitiful look in your eyes.

“What’re you willing to do?” His voice is staggeringly low, a mere rumble in his chest and throat. He barely speaks them properly, they just tumble forth and into your lap. You take a pause, sizing up the way your teacher takes up so much space in front of you, his arms crossed in front of his broad chest.

“What do you mean?” You know exactly what he means, you can see the slightest bulge forming in the front of his pants.

“I think you’re smart enough to figure it out.” Suguru chuckles, letting his hair out of it’s bun and draping it across his shoulders. Licking your lips nervously you stare at him, throat tightening the longer you look at the sunkissed beauty.

“Okay.” Whispering quietly, you shuffle your bag out of your lap, you begin to fiddle with your bottoms.

“Hold on, where’s the rush? We should savor this moment, hm?” Grabbing your hands, Suguru pulls you up to standing. Wrapping an arm around your waist he grabs your chin and tilts your face toward him.

He kisses you gently, getting a feel for your demeanor. The hand around your waist grips you tighter, his fingers digging in painfully and making you squirm closer to him to try and get away. Your hands clamp down onto his shoulders to steady yourself, a muffled whimper coming from you.

Suguru slips his tongue into your mouth with ease, slotting his mouth together with yours and overtaking your senses. Even with your eyes squeezed shut, you’re surrounded by his presence and overwhelmed with the energy he has just below the surface.

“S-sugu-” Your voice breaks when he leaves the kiss and moves onto your neck, nipping at the column of your throat and behind your ear.

“Sugu? That’s cute.” He chuckles while tugging the collar of your shirt down. Kissing the new skin before him, Suguru wastes no time in biting down. A sharp cry leaves you at the sudden pain, hands flying to try and push him away. “Calm down.” It’s all the warning Suguru gives you and then he’s biting you again, higher up on your neck.

Suguru sucks harshly on your neck, his teeth digging into the flesh with no remorse. Tugging on his hair, you’re worried about the marks that’ll be left behind, the ones you’ll have to explain to your friends after this meeting with your teacher.

“Take this off.” Tugging at the bottom of your top, Suguru releases you from his hold. “That too.” He mumbles when you make no move to take your bra off as well.

“Sir…” Crossing your arms over your chest, embarrassment washes over you. It was fine when you were just kissing him, but now clothes were coming off and- and did you really want to do this? Taking a look back at the monitor however, you knew this was the only option. There wasn’t any other teacher for this subject, and if you backed out now there would only be more headaches later.

“No need to be shy, little one.” Suguru chuckles and pushes away from the desk. Putting his hands on your shoulders, he guides you to take his spot, pushing you to sit on the empty space he made. Curling his fingers around your wrist, Suguru is gentle as he holds both your arms away from you.

Craning your head away, you can’t stand to see the lustful look in his eyes as they roam over your topless body. Suguru bites his lip, letting out a low whistle as he lets go of one of your arms to cup your breast.

“You’re so pretty.” He says, eyes focused on the way your nipple pebbles under his thumb. Tugging on it, Suguru chuckles when you whimper and his eyes dart up to your face. “What a nice little noise.” Standing between your legs, Suguru puts your arm around his shoulders and leans in, kissing your neck on the other side while he plays with your breasts.

Twirling the ends of his hair with your fingers, the feeling of his fingers going over your nipples makes an ashamed heat settle between your legs. Unable to clench your thighs together to relieve the building pressure, you settle for squirming on his desk.

Pushing you back to lean on your hand, Suguru takes a nipple into his mouth. He flicks it a few times with his tongue before nibbling softly, scraping his teeth against the bud as his other hands makes work with the neglected breast.

“S-sugu, please-” Vocalizing what you wanted was near impossible, especially since you shouldn’t be wanting it in the first place. But the heat between your legs was killing you, and a few tugs to the ends of his hair wrapped between your fingers got him to stand up a little straighter.

“Getting antsy?” Suguru teases with a light pink flush on his cheeks. You nod, lip caught between your teeth as your eyes go down to his now prominent bulge.

“I want it.”

“Show me what you want.” He challenges immediately, a sick grin on his face. Nodding again, the hand on his shoulder drops down to run along his chest and down to it. As you work on unbuttoning his slacks, Suguru undoes a few buttons on his shirt, exposing smooth skin that’s slightly damp with sweat.

Pulling his hard cock out, it’s hot and heavy in your palm. Pumping it slowly, the veins that run up and down the length pulse beneath your fingertips, blood rushing straight to the head of his cock where it leaks precum straight onto the floor.

Suguru is pulling your bottoms and underwear down as you stroke his cock, his nails scraping against your skin from his eagerness to have you completely bare before him. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see him pocket your underwear, but you don’t bring it up. You know you won’t be getting it back anyway.

“Look at this pretty fucking pussy.” Spreading your legs wide, Suguru practically salivates at the sight of your glistening cunt. “What a shame my pretty little student was hiding this from me for so long! I should mark you down just for that!”

“Sorry.” Chuckling bashfully, you let his cock go as Suguru tugs you closer to him, your ass beginning to hang off the edge of the desk.

“You’ll make it up to me, right?” He laughs lightly as well, grabbing your legs and putting them around his waist. “Good girl.” He hums when you nod obediently, head clouded with lust and a desire to please him.

The tip of his cock presses into you with ease, the smear of his precum and your arousal making an easy entrance. Your arms wrap around his shoulders to keep you steady as he bottoms out, a shiver running up both of your spines at the feeling.

“Fuck-” Suguru barks suddenly, drawing his hips back. “You’re milking me already, I can barely pull out.” Snapping his hips forward again, Suguru delights in the wet slap that comes from it. Beginning to rock into you, he can see the fabric of his pants staining darker from your juices, a wet patch surely forming on his desk under you as well.

Planting a hand next to you, Suguru’s back curves against his shirt as he fucks you. He had wanted to take it slow, this was only the thing he’d been working towards since classes started, but the drag of his cock against your walls was demolishing that plan.

“Sugu!” You cried, burying your face into the crook of his neck. Your breath fanning over him added to the heat washing over him, more sweat accumulating under his clothes and sticking to your face.

Hearing you moan and whine beneath him drove Suguru wild and he couldn’t help the way his other hand pulled up from your thigh and slapped back down, making you jump and tighten around him.

“My slutty little student- how naughty you are.” Slapping your thigh a few more times, Suguru pushes his hand between you and finds your clit with his thumb, rubbing it in tight circles. Choked moans came from your lips and you squeezed him tighter.

“Sugu- sir- ah, fuck-” The wet slapping sound gets louder, your slick gushing out of you at this point and coating Suguru. Lifting your heavy head, you kiss him, teeth knocking together and accidentally biting his lip as you try to slide your tongue into his mouth.

Suguru leans forward to kiss you harder, nearly making you fall over from the weight. His finger moves faster on your clit, desperate to have you cum on his cock. His orgasm is coming faster than he would have liked and he doesn’t want to cum without feeling you fall apart around him.

He ends up leaning so far forward, you really do fall back, lips breaking apart as you crumple onto the desk. Suguru pulls you forward by your hips, your ass now nearly completely off the desk as he fucks you.

“Fucking little slut- gonna make me cum-” His bottom lip is between his teeth, clamping down so hard it just might draw blood if he keeps going. Suguru’s hair tickles your skin as he moves, cascading down around you and sticking briefly to your skin.

“Please, please-” Your voice catches in your throat as you cum. No sound comes out of you, your back arching high off the desk as the pleasure finally comes to a peak.

“Fucking beautiful!” Suguru smiles like a madman, his fingers moving even faster on your clit as you rhythmically tighten around him. He kisses your slack mouth, swallows the forced gasps and moans that come from yours chest as your lungs burn for oxygen.

Slapping your ass a few times, Suguru cums inside you. Pushing his cock in as deep as possible he grinds himself against you, pushing a long, low groan into your mouth as he does. The hand on your cunt drops away, wrapping wet and sticky fingers around your thigh as he moves away from your mouth to breathe.

“What a...what a good student I have.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair as he catches his breath. Letting your legs fall slack, Suguru pushes a hand on your bladder to feel himself slide out of you.

As his cock leaves you, there’s a dribble of his cum that follows, staining your cunt white and dripping down between the crack of your ass and to the floor. Rubbing a hand on your thigh, Suguru gathers the cum dripping out and pushes it back in.

“Shouldn’t waste any now.” He hums, tracing his fingers up and down your cunt.

“T-too much.” You whine pathetically, trying in vain to grab his hand and stop him. Catching your hand in his, Suguru relents and threads his fingers through yours. The gesture is sweet, even more so when he kisses the back of your hand.

“Such a sweet student I have, wanting to hold my hand.” You giggle at the sentiment, cheeks getting warmer the longer he looks at you with that smile on his face. “Let’s hope you can keep this up for the rest of the term, and maybe I won’t fail you.”

Of course this wouldn’t be a one time thing. Suguru intended to milk this opportunity for all he could, already planning on having you stay after his lesson so he can play with your cunt before his next class.

“Go ahead and get dressed.” Helping you sit up, Suguru untangled himself from you and grabbed a few tissues, putting them in your hand as he started fixing himself up. The sun had gone down even farther during your little escapade, no longer baking the room in warm orange light. It left only a dim, cool glow now, and the heat it provided you was quickly leaving your body along with the sweat evaporating on your skin.

“If you want to keep your grade up, I think we should keep meeting regularly to discuss your progress.” Suguru had his teaching voice on now that he was leading you out of his office ten minutes later, your panties stuffed into his back pocket. There were a few other people passing by in the hall, some giving quick waves to the two of you as they saw you.

“Okay, Mr. Geto.” You knew to play the part well, not wanting to arouse suspicion by calling him by his first name. No one in your class called him Suguru, and especially not Sugu.

“Glad you understand.” He patted your shoulder quickly, giving you a cheeky wink when no one was looking. “I look forward to seeing you in class tomorrow, (Y/N).” Giving your arm a brief squeeze, he sent you on your way. Turning back to his office, he closed the door and locked it, going back to his desk and laying your panties across his lap.

Pulling out his phone, he snapped a few pictures of your underwear, sniffing it briefly before putting it back in his pocket.

“Professor Satoru is gonna love this.”

[hamliet]

The Crows Summon the Sun

Or, Hamliet’s review of Shadow & Bone, which gets a 4.5/5 for enjoyment and a 3.5/5 in terms of writing.

The true heroes of this story and the saviors of the show are the Crows. However, the problem is that the show then has an uneven feel, because the strength of the Crows plotline highlights the weaknesses of the trilogy storyline. But imo, overall, the strengths overshadow (#punintended) the weaknesses. 

I’ll divide the review into the narrative and the technical (show stuff, social commentary), starting with narrative.

Narrative: The Good 

It’s What The Crows Deserve

I went into the show watching it for the Crows; however, knowing that their storyline was intended to be a prequel, I wasn’t terribly optimistic. And while it is a prequel, the characters have complete and full arcs that perfectly set them up for the further development they will have in the books (which I think should be the next season?). Instead of retreading the arcs they’d have in the books, which is how prequels usually go, they had perfect set up for these arcs. It’s really excellent. 

Jesper, Inej, and Kaz are all allowed to be flawed, to have serious conflicts with one another, and yet to love each other. They feel like a found family in the best of ways. Kaz is the perfect selfish rogue; he’s a much more successfully executed Byronic hero than the Darkling, actually. Inej is heroic and her faith is not mocked, yet she too is flawed and her choices are not always entirely justified, but instead left to the audience to ponder (like killing the girl), which is a more mature writing choice that I appreciated. 

Jesper is charming, has a heart of gold despite being a murderer and on the surface fairly greedy, and MILO THE EMOTIONAL SUPPORT GOAT WAS THE BEST THING EVER. I also liked Jesper’s fling with Dima but I felt it could be better used rather than merely establishing his sexuality, like if Jesper and Dima had seen each other one more time or something had come of their tryst for the plot/themes/development of Jesper. 

Nina and Matthias’s backstory being in the first season, instead of in flashbacks, really works because it automatically erases any discomfort of the implications of Nina having falsely accused Matthias that the books start with. We know Nina, we know Matthias, we know their motivations, backgrounds, and why they feel the way we do. It’ll be easy for the audience to root for them without a lot of unnecessary hate springing from misunderstanding Nina (since she’s my favorite). Matthias’s arc was also really strongly executed and satisfyingly tragic. Their plotline was a bit unfortunately disconnected from the rest of the story, but Danielle Gallagan and Callahan Skogman have absolutely sizzling chemistry so I found myself looking forward to their scenes instead of feeling distracted. Also? It’s nice seeing a woman with Nina’s body type as a romantic and powerful character. 

Hamliet Likes Malina Now

Insofar as the trilogy storyline goes, the best change the show made was Mal. He still is the same character from the books, but much more likable. The pining was... a lot (too much in episode 4, I felt) but Malina is a ship I actually enjoyed in the show while I NOTP’d it in the books. Mal has complexity and layers to his motivations (somewhat) and a likable if awkward charm. Archie Renaux was fantastic. 

Ben Barnes is the perfect Aleksandr Kirigan, and 15 year old me, who had the biggest of big crushes on Ben Barnes (first celebrity crush over a decade ago lol), was pretty damn happy lol. He’s magnificantly acted--sympathetic and terrifying, sincerely caring and yet villainous in moments. Story-wise, I think it was smart to reveal his name earlier on than in the books, because it helps with the humanization especially in a visual medium like film. Luda was a fitting (if heartbreaking) backstory, but it is also hard for me to stomach knowing what the endgame of his character is. Like... I get the X-men fallacy thing, but I hope the show gives more kindness to his character than the books did, yet I’m afraid to hold my breath. Just saying that if you employ save the cat, if you directly say you added this part (Luda) to make the character more likable (as the director did) please do not punish the audience for feeling what you intended. 

I also liked the change that made Alina half-Shu. It adds well to her arc and fits with her character, actually giving her motivations (she kinda just wants to be ordinary in a lot of ways) a much more interesting foundation than in the books. Also it’s nice not to have another knock-off Daenerys (looking to you Celaena and book!Alina). Jessie Mei Li does a good job playing Alina’s insecurities and emotions, but... 

Narrative: The Ehhhhhhh

Alina the Lamp

Sigh. Here we go. Alina has little consistent characterization. She’s almost always passive when we see her, yet she apparently punches an officer for calling her a name and this seems to be normal for her, but it doesn’t fit at all with what we know about her thus far. Contradictions are a part of humanity, but it’s never given any focus, so it comes across as inconsistent instead of a flaw or repression. 

I have no idea what Alina wants, beside that she wants to be with Mal, which is fine except I have no idea what the basis of their bond is. Even with like, other childhood friends to lovers like Ren/Nora in RWBY or Eren/Mikasa in SnK, there’s an inciting moment, a reason, that we learn very early on in their story to show us what draws them together. Alina and Mal just don’t have that. There’s the meadow/running away thing, but they were already so close, and why?  Why, exactly? What brought them together? The term “bullies” is thrown around but it isn’t ever explored and it needed to be this season. If I have to deal with intense pining for so many episodes at least give me a foundation for their devotion. You need to put this in the beginning, in the first season. You just do.

A “lamp” character is a common metaphor to describe a bad character: essentially, you could replace the character with a lamp and nothing changes. Considering Alina’s gift is light, it’s a funnily apt metaphor, but it really does apply. Her choices just don’t... matter. She could be a special lamp everyone is fighting over and almost nothing would change. The ironic thing is that everyone treating her like a fancy lamp is exactly the conflict, but it’s never delved into. We’re never shown that Alina is more than a lamp. She never has to struggle because her choices are made for her and information is gifted to her when she needs it. Not making choices protects Alina from consequences and the story gives her little incentive to change that; in fact, things tend to turn out better when she doesn’t make choices (magic stags will arrive). 

Like... let’s look at a few occasions when Alina almost or does make choices. For example, she chooses to (it seems) sleep with Kirigan, but then there’s a convenient knock at the door and Bhagra arrives with key information that changes Alina’s mind instantly despite the fact that Bhagra’s been pretty terrible to her. If you want to write a woman realizing she’s been duped by a cruel man, show her discovering it instead of having the man’s abusive mother tell her when she had absolutely no such suspicions beforehand. There’s no emotional weight there because Alina doesn’t struggle. 

When she is actually allowed to carry out a bad choice, the consequences are handwaved away instead of built into a challenge for her. Like... Alina got her friends killed. More than once. I’m not saying she’s entirely to blame for these but could we show her reacting to it? Feeling any sort of grief? She never mentions Raisa or Alexei after they’re gone, just Mal, and I’m... okay. They were there because of you. Aren’t you feeling anything? Aren’t you sad? The only time Alina brings up her friends’ deaths is to tell Kirigan he killed her friends when they were only there because she burned the maps. She yells at Kirigan for “never” giving her a choice, but she almost never makes any, so why would he? Alina has the gall to lecture Genya about choices, but she herself almost never has to make any. 

Which brings me to another complaint in general: Alina’s lack of care for everyone around her when they’re not Mal, even if they care for her. Marie dies because of her (absolutely not her fault of course) but as far as we know she never even learns about Marie. She certainly doesn’t ever ask about her or Nadia. Alina seems apathetic at best to people, certainly not compassionate or kind. 

The frustrating thing is that there is potential here. Like, it actually makes a lot of psychological sense for an orphan who has grown up losing to be reluctant to care for people outside of her orbit and that she would struggle to believe she can have any say in her destiny (ie make choices). It’s also interesting that a girl who feels like an outsider views others outside her. But the show never offers examines Alina’s psychology with any depth; it simply tells us she’s compassionate when she is demonstrably not, it tells us she makes decisions when it takes magical intervention to do so. It’s a missed opportunity. This does not change between episodes 1 and 8, despite the episodes’ parallel structures and scenes, which unintentionally reinforces that Alina had little real development. 

Inej and ironically Jesper and Kaz embody the concept of “mercy” far better and with far more complexity than Alina does. The Crows have reactions to the loss of people who even betray them (Arken, etc), learn, and course-correct (or don’t) when they are even loosely involved in having strangers die. They’re good characters because they change and learn and have their choices matter. When they kill we see them wrestle with it and what this means even if they are accustomed to doing so. Jesper can’t kill in front of a child. Kaz wonders what his killings do to Inej’s idea of him.

Narrative: The Mixed Bag

Tropes, Themes, Telling vs. Showing

So the show’s themes in the Alina storyline are a mess, as they are in the trilogy too. Tropes are a very valuable way to show your audience what you’re trying to say. They’re utilized worldwide because they resonate with people and we know what to expect from them. The Crows' storyline shows us what it wants us to learn.

Preaching tells, and unfortunately, the trilogy relies on telling/preaching against fornicationBad Boys. It’s your right to write any trope or trample any trope you want--your story--but you should at least understand what/why you are doing so. The author clearly knows enough about Jungian shadows and dark/light yin/yang symbolism to use it in the story, but then just handwaves it away as “I don’t like this” but never does so in a narratively effective way: addressing the appeal in the first place. If you really wanna deconstruct a trope, you gotta empathize with the core of the reason these tropes appeal to people (it allays deep fears that we are ourselves unlovable, through loving another person despite how beastly they can be), and address this instead of ignoring it. Show us a better way through the Fold of your story. Don’t just go around it and ignore the issue.

The trilogy offers highly simplistic themes at best--bad boy bad and good boy good, which is fine-ish for kid lit but less fine for adult complexity, which the show (more so than the books) seems to try to push despite not actually having much of it.

Alina and Mal are intended to be good, we’re told they are, but I’m not sure why beyond just that we’re told so. Alina claims the stag chose her, but in the show it’s never explained why at all. Unlike with Kaz, Inej, Jesper, and hell even Matthias and Nina, we don’t see Alina or Mal’s complex choices and internal wrestling. 

Like, Inej’s half-episode where she almost killed the guy they needed was far more character exploration than Alina has the entire show, to say nothing of Inej’s later killing which not only makes her leaps and bounds more interesting, but ironically cements her as a far more compelling and yes, likable, heroine than Alina. We see Inej’s emotional and moral conflict. We can relate to her. We see Kaz struggling with his selfishness and regrets, with his understanding of himself through his interactions with and observations of Inej, Alina, the Darkling, Arken, and Jesper.

We don’t explore what makes Mal or Alina good and what makes them bad. We don’t know what Alina discovers about herself, what her power means for her. We are told they are good, we are told she knows her power is hers, but never shown what this means or what this costs them/her. Their opportunities to be good are handed to them (the stag, Bhagra) instead of given to them as a challenge in which they risk things, in which doing good or making a merciful choice costs them. Alina gets to preach about choices without ever making any; Inej risks going back to the Menagerie to trust Kaz. Her choices risk. They cost. They matter and direct her storyline and her arc, and those of the people around her.

Production Stuff:

The Good: 

The production overall is quite excellent. The costumes, pacing, acting, and cinematography (for example, one of the earliest scenes between the Darkling and Alina has Alina with her back to the light, face covered in his shadow, while the Darkling’s face is light up by her light even if he stands in the shadows) are top-notch. The soundtrack as well is incredible and emphasizes the scenes playing. The actors have great chemistry together, friend chemistry and romantic when necessary (Mal and Alina, the Darkling and Alina, Kaz and Inej, Nina and Matthias, David and Genya, etc.) All are perfectly cast. 

The Uncomfortable Technicalities Hamliet Wants to Bitch About:

The only characters from fantasy!Europe having any trace of an accent reminiscent of said fantasy country's real-world equivalent are antagonists like Druskelle (Scandinavia) and Pekka (Ireland). When the heroes mostly have British accents despite being from fantasy Russia and Holland, it is certainly A Choice to have the Irish accent emphasized. The actor is British by the way, so I presume he purposely put on an Irish accent. I'm sure no one even considered the potential implications of this but it is A Look nonetheless.

The Anachronisms Hamliet Has a Pet Peeve About: 

The worldbuilding is compelling, but the only blight on the worldbuilding within the story itself (ignoring context) was that there are some anachronisms that took me out of the story, particularly in the first episode where “would you like to share with the class” and “saved by the horn” are both used. Both are modern-day idioms in English that just don’t fit, especially the latter. The last episode uses “the friends we made along the way.” There are other modern idioms as well.

IT’S STARKOVA and Other Pet Peeves Around the Russian Portrayal 

Russian names are not hard, and Russian naming systems are very, very easy to learn. I could have waved “Starkov” not being “Starkova,” “Nazyalensky” not being “Nazyalenskaya,”  and “Safin” not being “Safina” as an American interpretation (since in America, the names do not femininize). However, “Mozorova” as a man is unfathomable and suggests to me the author just doesn’t understand how names work, which is a bit... uh okay considering a simple google search gets you to understand Russian names. They aren’t hard. I cannot understand why the show did not fix this. It is so simple to fix and would be a major way to help the story’s overall... caricature of Russia. 

Speaking of that... Ravka is supposedly Russian-based, but it is more accurately based on the stereotypes of what Americans think of Russia. Amerussia? Russica? Not great. 

The royals are exactly what Americans think of the Romanovs, right down to the “greasy” “spiritual advisor” who is clearly Rasputin and which ignores the Romanov history, very real tragedy, and the reason Rasputin was present in the court. The religion with all its saints is a vapid reflection of Russian Orthodoxy. The military portrayal with its lotteries and brutality and war is how the US views the Russian military. The emphasis on orphans, constant starvation, classification, and children being ripped from their homes to serve the government is a classic US understanding of USSR communism right down to the USSR having weapons of destruction the rest of the world fears (Grisha). Not trying to defend the Soviet Union here at all, but it is simplistic and reductive and probably done unconsciously but still ehhhh. 

However, I’m not Russian. I just studied Russian literature. I’ve seen very little by way of discussion of this topic online, but what I do see from Russian people has been mixed--some mind, some don’t. The reality is that I actually don’t really mind this because it’s fantasy, though I see why some do. I'm not like CANCEL THIS. So why am I talking about this beyond just having a pet peeve?

Well, because it is a valid critique, and because it doesn’t occur in a vacuum. The Grishaverse is heralded as an almost paragon for woke Young Adult literature, which underlines itself what so frustrates me about how literary circles discuss issues of diversity and culture. Such praise, while ignoring its quasi-caricature of Russia, reflects a very ethnocentric (specifically American) understanding of culture, appropriation, and representation. All stories are products of their culture to various extents, but it bothers me on principle what the lit community reacts (and overreacts sometimes?) to and what people give a pass to. The answer to what the community reacts to and what it gives a pass always pivots on how palatable the appropriation is to American understandings and sensibilities. There’s nuance here as well, though. 

I'm not cancelling the story or thinking it should be harshly attacked for this, but it is something that can be discussed and imo should be far more often--but with the nuance it begs, instead of black/white. But that’s a tall ask.