#a higher bust just works for a lot of tops

[cvsette]

“Unlined” this “barely there” that where are the fucking. Padded bras. The push-up bras with an inch of thickass memory foam at the bottom of the cup. The bras that push your tits up to your chin. God gave me this one thing the least I can do is honor that for fucks sake

[egoistars]

HIIII I just saw your post about your event and thought I'll be silly and request smthing ^_^ ok sooo first time meeting ness ! 😯 (one shot or hc whichever you feel more comfy writing! <3) have a great dayyy (⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠) ♪

ACADEMICALLY SMART BUT EXTREMELY STUPID alexis ness

aka. how u meet ness aka academic rivals to lovers but ness dont gaf bc hes just trying to #play #ball

you meet him at quite a young age and share a few things in common

ill fitting school uniforms and the wandering eyes of any child

while you find yourself fascinated by the numbers written on your teacher's chalkboard, ness is folding dinosaurs and stars on pieces of scrap paper, mumbling to himself

you didn't mind him and he didn't mind you

you guys were classmates and that was that

but then middle school came around and you started acting like you had a stick up your ass 24/7 as long as ness was around

like wtf that mf almost never studies why is he at the top of your class...

suddenly you get distracted in classes because you're focused on drawing mini ness figures with fat x's covering his face and devil horns

ness sees this one day after your notebook fell to the ground and at first is like omg!!! cute drawing of me as a fantasy creature but then he was like wait what the fuck why do they have it out for me????

he barely thought about you until then but apparently you've developed a passionate hatred for him just because he scores higher grades

he still has no clue

you are FUMING

so you start studying even more if that's even possible

while you go to your schools library to bust your ass in the textbooks ness goes outside with a ball he managed to shove into his bag and starts kicking it around

ness: :D ball!!!! no school!!! ball :D

you: KILL YOURSELF KILL YOURSELF KILL YOURSELF KILL YOURSELF

after one particularly hard test that you flopped (it was like an 80% be serious) you caved in and asked ness with help studying

he looked at the material and was like man idk it just makes sense

little boy thought you were going to punt him into hell like he does with his football

him, terrified out of his mind and just wanting to go to his football club meeting, sits down and looks at the material

you show him your notes and he quickly explains it but is running late on time

he gives you his number and says hes going to text you help

you went home that day like ???? that dude lied to me he isnt sending me shit ??? before it clicked

he does not text you because he does not have your number... he gave you his number...

so you swallow your pride and shoot him a message, begging for help a second time in the same day and on his end, he laughs at you a little but offers to call

you guys work on the subject for a good couple hours and before you hang up, you offer to study together for future exams because he's admittedly a good teacher

ness is trying to find a way to say "no thanks i don't care about school good luck tho XD ROFL LOLLLLL" but then he realizes that it's going to make his parents trust him a little more

he accepts and you guys go to the library together once a week

he finds that you're actually kind of funny and cool and not just a human bomb that's plotting his death

he tries to be slick about offering to meet more often

"oh... this unit is a lot more difficult than the last one.... you wanna heh.... come back tomorrow? *gulp*"

"ok"

"WOOOO"

one day ness told you he was going to try out for bastard munchen and you somewhat knew of them because of ness going on tangents about football

you supported him on it, not realizing it would cut down your weekly meetings

suddenly there was an alexis-shaped-hole in your chest but you didn't want to admit it to him

and for alexis, there was a you-shaped-hole in his chest that he tried to fill by training with kaiser and the rest of bastard munchen

yes, the team was filled with dicks, but none of them had the same foul personality you had!!

texts dvery day checking up on each other but it was nothing like hanging out in person

calls were better but still not the same

as soon as he heard about his first off day, he called you and asked to hang out

you tried to be nonchalant about it but who were you kidding both of you guys wanted to see each other again

although the directions of life the two of you were headed towards were almost polar opposites, being reunited at a stupid library table for the first time in months was all that mattered

[rnelodyy]

Hi, I’ve been seeing a lot of arguments being thrown around about why Ludinus’s plan is terrible, and I think it’d be useful to put them all in a list to demonstrate why, even if you agree with his philosophy, the idea of unleashing Predathos is such a horrible travesty.

Problem 1: There’s no guarantee that Predathos won’t eat mortals as well.

Ludinus seems convinced that mortals, despite being divine creations with tiny bits of divine essence in them, are too small for Predathos to care about. The source for this appears to be Predathos itself, which is kind of a massive conflict of interest. If you were trapped and starving for thousands of years, and this tasty little chicken nugget came up to you and said “Hey I’ll let you out if you eat these evil guys for me, just dont eat me or my people okay?”, would you tell him no? And if/when you do get out, would you keep that promise?

Speaking of which, while it is true that the Gods are its primary prey, they are currently not on Exandria. The Betrayers are locked away in their various prisons, and the Primes are behind the Divine Gate. Since its prison is made of the same stuff, it’s safe to assume that Predathos can’t just kick that shit down, so while it’s working on that, it may as well help itself to some appetizers in the meantime. 

Problem 2: Even if Predathos doesn’t eat mortals, its presence might severely negatively affect Exandria in other ways.

We know that Ludinus’s first attempt to communicate with Predathos from Exandria resulted in the destruction of Molaesmyr and the creation of the nightmare landscape that is the Savalirwood, as well as causing an earthquake that destroyed all surface-dwelling civilizations on Ruidus. We can pretty safely assume that was not intentional on Ludinus’s part, so this was either an accident or Predathos showing its hand a little too early. Either way, if an attempt at communication apparently blasted so many negative vibes across that forest that it remains an irradiated hellscape to this day, how the hell do you think unleashing Predathos itself is gonna go? 

Also, its influence on mortals is pretty evident. The Accord mentioned that multiple of their Ruidusborn members ran off towards the Bloody Bridge out of nowhere, and higher ranking Reilorans can just take over the bodies and minds of random people. If that’s the level of influence it has while trapped, there’s no telling what it could do to people (Ruidusborn especially) if it were released.

We also know from Downfall that its invasion of Tengar was akin to a black hole suddenly appearing in the middle of a town square. The Eternal Palace wasn’t just destroyed, it was completely un-made. We don’t know what the difference will be between Predathos in an infinite extradimensional paradise vs Predathos on Exandria, but it will likely be pretty fucking bad. (tho unfortunately this is information that the characters are not aware of).

Problem 3: Eating the Gods is not instant, and that fight could result in a second Calamity.

While it’s not as likely that the battle between the Gods and Predathos will take place on Exandria, the Gods will likely recruit their mortal followers to fight Predathos before it can break down the Divine Gate. On top of this, if Predathos does manage to bust down the Gate, some gods straight up can’t leave Exandria without dying (the Wildmother being the biggest example), and may flee towards Exandria rather than away. 

On top of this, even if busting open the Divine Gate goes smoothly, the Betrayers are scattered and imprisoned separately. Predathos is gonna have to put in some work to get them out, which could do severe damage to Exandria in the process. And idk about you, but I think the God-eater is gonna care about collateral damage about as much as a bear cares about the damage it’s dealing to the trash can it’s tearing open. 

Problem 4: Removing the Pantheon might destroy or seriously fuck up Exandria.

Not in the sense that the planet will explode if they’re gone; like many people have said, life on Exandria was there before them and will exist after them. I mean in the sense that the Pantheon shaped the world as we know it today and have existed within it the entire time, we have no framework of knowing what will happen if they leave.

Multiple people on here have cited “Wolves in Yellowstone” to describe this scenario (including in this banger fanfic which has nothing to do with my point I just really wanted to shout it out), meaning ecosystems will change very drastically and negatively if one aspect of it is suddenly removed, like what happened when wolves were hunted to extinction in Yellowstone park. Removing the Gods from the Exandrian ecosystem will have consequences, both short term and long term, that are impossible to predict. How will death even work without the Matron there to shepherd souls? Will storms cease when the Stormlord and the Wildmother are gone or will they grow out of control? What threats will society face if the Lawbearer isn’t there? 

Ludinus pretends like the Gods siphon worship from their followers and add nothing else but I just don't believe him when he says that; the Gods are as much as a part of the world as mortals are, and if they are removed it will reshape Exandria as a whole in a way that will be catastrophic at best, incompatible with mortal life as it exists now at worst.

Problem 5: Removing the Pantheon will have horrible consequences for society.

Even if you can remove the Gods without fucking up the ecosystem beyond repair, society as a whole will be dealt a massive blow when the Gods disappear. 

First off, every previously religious person is now grappling with a crisis of faith on par with what would happen if Christians suddenly saw the corpse of God drop from the sky. This will likely result in societal instability or even collapse – Exandria will see worldwide riots and civil wars, governments will crack down harder on dissenters, cults will start to pop up all over the place as people desperately try to find meaning in other places, and I would not be surprised if this will be the death knell for Vasselheim. It will take years, maybe even decades, for people to settle into some form of new normal.

Second, while some other classes also have healing spells, the vast majority of dedicated magical healers are clerics, and if you have an injury or curse or disease that needs acute healing, you go to a temple. All clerics losing their powers simultaneously would be like all doctors suddenly forgetting how to practice medicine. Epidemics would erupt from every major city, a lot of people would die of illnesses or wounds that would otherwise be completely treatable, and sheer desperation might drive people into doing some pretty terrible things to any non-cleric healers like druids or bards. 

Third, every religious organization losing all power and relevance would leave worldwide power vacuums for any tyrant or despot to fill. Organizations like the Cobalt Soul (who are followers of Ioun but don’t put a lot of focus on worship) would probably survive, but any church or temple without an additional incentive to keep people in would instantly be fucked.

Fourth, there are a LOT of divine seals across the world keeping nasty shit at bay. Whether those seals will break instantly or erode over time is debatable, but either way, people can look forward to being flooded by fiends, aberrations, mythical monsters, and all sorts of horrible environmental dangers. Plus, y’know, the Weavemind’s plan to invade and colonize Exandria. 

Problem 6: The Pantheon leaving would result in the mother of all power vacuums.

We know it’s possible to ascend to godhood without replacing an existing god, because something like that happened very recently. Vecna was only defeated with the help of the Gods, and could only take over a divine domain that wasn’t already claimed; just imagine how bad it would have been if he’d not only encountered no resistance from the Gods, but could just take every divine domain and become the One True God of Exandria. 

Last episode (C3E102), Ashton made a comment that it’s not the king that’s the problem, it’s the throne. However, Ludinus’s plan doesn’t get rid of the throne at all, it just leaves it vacant, and while he may not have ambitions towards godhood, there are a lot of people out there who would love a slice of that pie. In the next few centuries, somebody is going to ascend to godhood and fill the power vacuum left by the Pantheon, and there’s exactly zero guarantee that they’ll be nice about it. Did you like the Gods messing with mortals from behind the Divine Gate? How about a newly crowned One True God stomping all over your city because someone made a nasty comment about them?

Anyway thats why Ludinus’s plan is bad and he should feel bad ok bye <3

[prettyboykatsuki]

fuck your inhibition. | k. bakugou

♢ tags ; very big age gaps (19 years), questionable ethics, ex deliquent / runaway reader (22), fighting / violence, brief mentions of living on the streets, retired pro-hero bakugou (41), emotionally charged sex, afab + masc!reader, top!reader, bottom bakugou, reader is really rough around the edges, backstory for reader, arguing, oral (both receiving),rimming (m!recieving), strap-ons (not a dom thing. no particular power dynamics), prone-bone, dirty talk, size difference (reader is smaller but no specifics), happy endings sort of.

no explicitly gendered terms for reader. usage of words like clit / cunt for readers body parts. reader is implied bisexual.

(also while this fic is certainly intended to be read as masc., it can just as easily be read as completely gn.)

♢ wc ; 10.2k (two days. this is so alarming)

♢ a/n ; happy birthday to my favorite guy. sorry in advance. this fic is so disgustingly self-indulgent. str8 self-inserty ngl. i simply dont want to look at it djskfgdf. this fic is pretty tame tho age gap aside. been a while since ive written for him. title is from "lemme know" by vince staples

♢ synopsis ; who knew that the boudoir pictures you've been getting off too your whole life would look so much better in person?

You’re not convinced there’s any way to get used to getting your lights knocked out. 

At this point, your fighting prowess is good enough that you can dodge swings from even heavy handed opponents. Just agile enough to bob and weave. Your reflexes are good too, from years of getting into with cops or otherwise. So getting absolutely dusted in a single, swift motion is not a frequent occurrence. 

That’s why you are sorely caught off guard when it happens to you in the back of an alleyway, tucked into a corner of Osaka—a long ways from home.

You were fucked from the minute you stepped foot off the train; you knew that instinctively. You haven’t been back in years and it’s not like you’re here for leisure. And sure, you took the job knowing there was some possibility you’d run into some old foes but shit. They couldn’t’ve waited till the week was over? 

3 days in and your life as a runaway comes back to bite you in the ass. Worse, they catch in front of the very storefront you were  working up the nerve to visit at the end of the week. If that old man catches you 1. making a ruckus in front of his cherished bakery and 2. fighting like those “worthless punks” that he openly detests, he’s definitely gonna be on your ass.

It’s amidst conflict, you decide to take the beating and wait it out. Hopefully, whatever higher power is looking over you will let you get out without busting your lip. 

But fuck, this last hit is leaving you worse for wear. You blink your eyes open and you’re still surrounded by him and his bunch of goons. What was this dudes name again…? Aka…Aka-something, you think. Without warning, you get another punch, a clean left-hook  - this time to your side. You cough at the sensation. 

Ah, life is so unfair to you. 

He grabs you by the front of your collar, dragging you upwards until you’re nose to nose. This fuckers breath is hot. Something warm slips down your nose, a rivulet of blood over your lips. You grunt. 

“I should’ve beat the shit out of you the first time.” 

You blink slowly as you regain your vision and sense. Despite many transgressions and altercations, your time in Osaka as a fugitive is notable. This bunch of fiends are a somewhat half-assed motorbike gang. It’s an old story. You stole and ruined  not one, not two, but four of their bikes total. In your defense you were a young kid scrounging for change - hotwiring and deconstructing for parts was always  pretty profitable. And stealing flashy bikes was a hell of a lot easier than scratching up your knees in the scrap yard. 

Ah, there was that other thing too. Why you’re pretty sure this guy has held such a grudge against you for god knows how long. Irritable with a bad sense of self-preservation, you give up on behaving well. 

“Yeah? No need to sulk now, right?” You grin, hands practically itching to throw him onto the ground. A familiar sense of adrenaline burns in your stomach. You should just hit him, but you don’t - instead opting to aim where you know it’s gonna piss him off most “How’s your little sister by the way?” 

Red flashes in his eyes, nose puffed like a bull. Despite your self-satisfaction, you close your eyes and pray to god he doesn’t actually kill you. There’s still some ass you have to tap before you die and it’d be a real shame to die only inches away. You cover your face when his fist winds up. Riling him up was probably a bad move.

Before you get your lights punched out forreal, an angel comes to rescue you. 

“Oi, you fuckin’ punks—go take this shit somewhere else or I’m gonna singe every last goddamn hair on your head.”

You smile, almost drunk on the adrenaline. An angel, indeed. A cursing, blonde, abrasive angel. 

“Oh, shit—we gotta get outta here. That dude Dynamight doesn’t fuck around”

Before you know it, said group of miscreants disperses like a swarm of flies. You find yourself stumbling back against a bunch of crates, back hitting them and sliding down, snagging in your work clothes. The leader says something about “not being finished with you yet,” but you don’t catch it with how your ears are ringing in your skull.

You rub your eyes and groan, seeing double. When you open them again, your favorite blonde old man is standing in front of you. Arms crossed over his chest, sporting that signature glare you’re so fond of. 

Your head is throbbing. Fuck it hurts. 

You only manage one sentence before promptly blacking out. 

“Did I die and go to heaven?”

— 

You wake up in a familiar bed. 

A bed you spent a lot of time resting in when you were out at on the streets here, something like four  years ago now. The memories of the time aren’t entirely pleasant - being a homeless runaway was pretty shit. But meeting your life long hero (and getting your rocks off in his bed) are quite fond regardless. You’re surrounded by nice, white linen sheets that you’re pretty sure cost more than you make in a month. He’s not really much of a flashy character despite his career, but he does have an eye for the finer things. 

You haven’t been back here in a while. Since moving to a different prefecture, you haven’t had any good reason to come see him. This week was a good excuse for just that. Didn’t exactly plan on it happening like this, but you can’t really win 'em all. You’d consider being back here a win on your part regardless. 

The fact that you’re here instead of molding in the pouring rain means that he dragged you up there by himself. A fact you try not to put too much stock into, because he’s still a pro even if he’s retired. What makes it hard not to feel giddy about it is the fact you’re all cleaned up. Bandaged wounds and all, he even took off your shoes. Jeez, he’s gonna kill you one of these days acting so cute. 

You turn to lay on your back, reaching your hand to the ceiling and making a fist. Your knuckles are still pretty bruised up but it’s clear he took some time to check over them. You drop your hand down, squeezing a fist over your chest and sighing. You roll over again. 

“Still giving me so many mixed signals.” You say, half in jest, trying not to be too affected by it “Ah, fuck, this is bad. Gonna end up doing something weird just like old times.” 

Before you commit another act of degeneracy in the bed of your long time crush and childhood hero, you sit up with your legs over the edge. He took your pants off too, a pair of boxers hung low on your hips. Your back is fucking killing you. 

You stand to your feet, scratching the back of your neck as you turn to examine yourself in the mirror. You pull your tank up over your side, a bruise the size of a melon developing on you. It goes from just under your chest all the way down to above your waist. You press your finger to it and wince at the sensation of pain, dull but throbbing so deep in your nerves you can’t help but feel it. 

You examine the rest of you, turning to either side. Work tomorrow is gonna fucking blow, but considering you don’t have any broken ribs - you think it’s not the worst it could be. No stitches either, so a win overall. If the rest of the week passed by silently that’d  be perfect. 

You look around the room for your things. They’re in a neat chair in the corner of the room.  Bakugou’s cat is over there too, asleep on your uniform. You can hear something faint from downstairs, the sound of a T.V. playing. You should drop down there since you’re awake  but you’re reluctant. You wonder if he’ll chase you out since you’re up. If he still has as much of a soft spot for you as he used to, it couldn’t hurt to test your luck. 

You open up the bedroom door and shut it quietly before padding down stairs. 

You end up finding him where you’d expect him.  He’s in the kitchen with an apron on, a fitted gray shirt with a piping bag in hand.

 He looks older every time you see him. His hair isn’t all gray yet but the platinum is starting to turn brilliant white. There’s lines in his face that weren’t always there, even with the scars and fine wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. He’s still as jacked as he used to be, but it’s softened up. Mostly it’s his personality, you find, to be mellow. Only someone with patience could take up such a tedious hobby after an entire life out in the field - killing baddies and chasing thugs and whatever other shit hero’s do. 

It’s kind of ridiculous that he’s piping delicate little designs onto some pastries, but unfortunately for you it only adds to his charm. You lean against the wall coming into the kitchen, in the frame. Half-dressed with your lips quirked up in a coy smile. 

“Whatcha makin’ old man?” 

“Don’t break my concentration you noisy brat,” He says straightforwardly “Sit down and shut up.” 

“So cranky,” You muse,  but ultimately comply, sitting at a chair on the kitchen island. Looks like he’s on his last round of whatever he’s making. 

You get by on staring at him. It’s pretty typical for you even now. Sitting here in front of him doesn’t feel as awkward as you expected, which is worth something. When he’s finally finished, he puts the piping bag on the counter and wipes his forehead with the back of his arm. 

“Permission to speak, sarge?” You ask, sarcastically. He frowns at you. 

“Not granted.” 

“Cold as ever huh,” You say, leaning your elbow on the counter - palm on your cheek “Thought distance was supposed to make the heart grow fonder?” 

“That only counts if there’s fondness in the first place.” He says with ease. This time you scoff at him, but he cuts you off before you get a chance to reply “You wake up with any pain?” 

“Worry about yourself, you old bastard,” You say impudently. You see the corners of his lips twitch as he stares at you “‘m fine. Got a nasty bruise on my side but my ribs aren’t broken. Work tomorrow is gonna suck.” 

“That why you’re back here?” 

“For about a week, yeah.” 

“Confidential?” 

You shake your head and lean back. 

“Nah. Bodyguarding some rich dude’s kid. Birthday tomorrow. Spent the first two days being a lousy maid but the pay is good so I can’t complain.” 

“Shit. The party is tomorrow? I have an order for tomorrow.” 

“Guess you’re not senile yet, old man.” 

“Fuck off,” Bakugou says, not bothering to hide to his expression “How old’s the kid?

“A little younger than me I’d guess. 19 or so.” 

“Isn’t this a good opportunity to get laid?” He suggests like he’s purposefully trying to irritate you. He already knows how you feel. Why he insists on pretending is beyond you but it never fucking fails to piss you off. 

You shoot him a glare. 

“Nevermind. You’re definitely senile. Might wanna try some puzzle games to keep your shit in tact before you start peeing in public and buying ten pairs of the same pants.” 

“You’re still just as mouthy as I remember.” 

“Learned from the best.” 

A comfortable silence settles as a weird feeling overtakes you. Fuck, you’re still pining your youth away after all this time. Maybe getting laid would fix some of your issues, but no one is gonna hold a candle to having the real thing. You rub your temple in preemptive apprehension. Bakugou starts working on cleaning up the kitchen, and you resign yourself to thinking about what you’re gonna do. 

It catches you off-guard when he talks to you first. 

“Earlier,” He says, opening up the fridge to rearrange it “Why weren’t you fighting back?” 

You don’t know whether you want to laugh or cry hearing him ask. You don’t feel like softening the blow with your usual shit, so you give it to him straight. 

“It doesn’t suit a tactical genius to play dumb, old man.” 

He stiffens, then sighs. 

“Still hung up on that, huh.” 

Oh now you’re gonna get pissed. 

“Don’t.” You warn, low and indifferent. He sighs, sliding a tray into the fridge and “Don’t piss me off, alright?” 

“Hey. You shitty punk. When are you gonna get it through your thick skull I’m doing this for your fucking sake? Stop—”

“Next time, just leave me in the rain.” You seethe, venom in your voice, making you numb and agitated. He stops, breath hitching “I don’t give a shit if you’re a retired  hero. I’m serious. Leave me out in the alley next time if you’re gonna pull the mentor act again..”

Man this sucks. 

Not like you were expecting some heart warming love story out of a guy like him but still. You didn’t think he wouldn’t budge at all. You can feel yourself getting angry just thinking about it. It might’ve been better not to come. Mentor or not, his whole dismissal never fails to annoy you to your core. You knew that before the week started he might be like this. Maybe if shit went your way - you could’ve had a regular reunion. But now, he just had to see you getting beat up on purpose and he just had to fucking ask about it. 

Seriously, where’s his decorum? Prick. 

“Kid.” 

“Don’t—I needa get outta here. I shouldn’tve—fuck, this blows.”

You stand to your feet before you have a chance to look back. You feel kind of pathetic running away again but it’s still the preferable option to having this fight a second time. It’s something you’re just too sensitive about to deal with head on. Getting rejected twice by the guy you’ve been in love with since you were nineteen is bound to fuck you up abs you don’t have it in you not to drink yourself into a fit. 

So you’re practically running up the stairs, but you can hear him calling behind you. You go into the bedroom to get your things and Bakugou follows you into it predictably, shutting the door.  You turn around to him, annoyed. 

“Get outta my way.” 

“No. Not while you’re all pissy. Gonna get yourself hit by a car.” 

“What’d I just say about cooling it with the mentor act, man?” 

“It’s not a fuckin’—it’s not an act.” He says, with a sigh that almost makes you feel bad, “I haven’t seen you in two years.” 

“Two years is nothing. Old age is making you soft,” You scoff, arms crossed over your chest “But I don’t need your sympathy. My feelings haven’t changed.” 

“Kid.” 

“I’m not a kid anymore, alright? Cleaned my act up, got a job and a license and a place. Haven’t slept in a cell in two years. Been off the streets that whole time just like you told me to do.  The least you could do is take me seriously.” 

“I didn’t want you to do that shit for me. I wanted you to do it for you.” 

“Too bad,” You reply back almost immediately, pinching the bridge of your nose “Save your lecture for the next injured bird you raise up and leave me out of it.” 

“I’m trying to put you on the right path, you ungrateful little jackass. Don’t act like—“

“Spare me the goddamn lecture.” 

There’s a quiet silence befalls the both of you. Shit is going nowhere fast and you both know it, Bakugou as much as you do. Memories of your last argument come back to you almost instantly. 

After you turned eighteen, you were run out of the orphanage you’d spent part of your adolescence at. It’s a pretty regular sob story and you’re quite the sad sap. A dead mom in Mustafu and an absent father. You had a strong quirk, and hell maybe if you grew up different - you could’ve been a hero. 

Shit didn’t  work out that way, so at 11 you were thrown to the wolves. It’s not a fun time to look back on and you figure there’s no use thinking about the past. You did whatever you had to to survive which mostly meant being in and out of orphanages and running away whenever the next worthless schmuck tried to take advantage of you. You always got away by the skin of your teeth, and made money doing whatever you could. If it put food on the table, you’d have probably done it at least once.

It’s something of a cliche, but Dynamight was your idol. You liked that he wasn’t like other heroes. He was crass and hardcore and liked to talk shit. He was cool. You spent a lot of time hanging around T.V. stores watching him through the glass, watching interviews on your first hand-me-down phone. Even though he didn’t really have the tragic backstory, you always thought he was courageous and honest. 

A celebrity crush and idol combined, you stole more of his pin-up magazines than you’re entirely comfortable with. A lot of them you still own, shoved into the back of your closet. 

Once you’d turned 18, your life of petty crime had brought you all the way down to Osaka. It was also the worst year of your life. Social agencies seem to get off on tossing kids into the streets as soon as they can and with a criminal record like yours, there wasn’t a whole lot you could do. 

You spent the first 6 months knee deep in all sorts of shit. That’s when you ran into that biker gang for the first time. You hung around bars and slept with strangers for a place to sleep. A lot of bad shit happened and it wasn’t getting any easier. 

It was a cold, rainy day when you met Dynamight for the first time. The worst day of your life, more accurately. You got mugged and lost your job all in the same few hours and you were pretty sure god himself was spitting at your face. 

But it wasn’t all bad. Cheesy as it sounds, meeting your hero was worth the trouble. 

He was different off camera. That was the first thing you thought when you talked to him. He had a softer way of speaking and he was weirdly perceptive. He didn’t talk much, either - at least not at first. You spent a lot of time in comfortable silence. The first time, you didn’t do much more than share a meal. He asked you about your life. He gave you money for a hotel too. The only thing you could think to do was ask when you could see him again. 

He was 36 at the time. Hadn’t retired yet, either. 

That was the beginning of your long relationship. To this day, you don’t know why he decided to involve himself with you. It’s a mystery you’ve yet to get answers for and maybe you never will. Sure he was a hero, but you’re sure he’s seen a lot worse. Why take pity on you in particular? Whenever you ask him about it, he usually just scoffs. Sometimes he’ll tell you that you reminded him of someone. Who that person could be is lost on you even now.

It was a gradual relationship. You were young and persistent, but he never turned you away either. Sure he’d been a good influence, but stopping a life of crime wasn’t easy. You got arrested for some months after meeting. Bakugou took you in when you were 19 and homeless - let you stay with him. He retired at 37, opening up a bakery in Osaka. The place you’re staying in now is just over it. The same one you spent two years of your life falling in love with the old bastard. 

It was hard not too. You’d admired him for a long time, and he managed to supercede your low expectations. It wasn’t the first time you fell in love but it was definitely the strongest sensation. You tried to ignore it for a while but that didn’t work out for shit either. 

You confessed to him on your 20th birthday. Made a whole big deal with flowers and candles and shit. And again - it’s not like you were expecting romance out of the motherfucker. A flat-out rejection would’ve sufficed. 

But…that wasn’t what you got either. 

The whole reason for your fight wasn’t just because he didn’t have feelings for you. He made it a whole big fucking deal trying to tell you about your feelings. That you needed to get your shit together and grow up and that it was a phase that you’d grow out of. That he “really cares about you, kid” and that he’s just trying to do what was right by you as an adult. 

(“You’ve got no idea what the fuck I’m like either. Been through some tough shit and you latched onto me, alright? So don’t go wastin’ your time.”) 

You don’t really give a fuck about how old he is or about his status. None of it matters to you in the slightest. What was pissing you off all that time was him not taking you seriously after everything you’d been through together. Trying to tell you would fucking grow out of it and that it was a waste. You got into an argument after that, and like you’ve been doing your whole life - you ran away. Back to Shizuoka where you started to get your life together. 

Hit the books and studied your ass off, graduating late from a night school and then picking up a vocational school to fall back on. Some old connections got you a job in security and you bounced from place to place in the meanwhile. You even got your license and bought a beat-up cruiser that you fix-up when you have the chance. 

You grew up so to speak. You came back here trying to prove that. Being dismissed so fucking quickly makes you feel rage beyond reason so you’re trying to step back. Seriously, two fucking years and nothing. Not even a pity “I’m proud of you.” 

“Just admit it,” You sneer, inching closer to him “It’s not about any of that shit, is it?”

He widens his eyes as you stalk towards him.

“The fuck are you—“

“Don’t play stupid. You feel guilty, right? Feel all wound up cause you know it’s not nothing. This isn’t nothing”

This time he goes silent. Fucking bullseye.

“You thought I forgot? How you kissed me all tipsy? Thought I didn’t notice you looking?”

Oh it feels good to let it all out. He shrinks, this time unable to say anything. You both know it’s true. 

“Look—“ He puts hands on your shoulders as you back him into the wall “You’re too fucking young for all this. And about me, you don’t know—”

You lean into him, face inches apart. You already know what he’s gonna tell you, almost word for word. Trying to maintain some innocence you hardly have anything left of. 

“You sure? I heard you through those walls plenty of times. You take dick like a champ.” 

“Shut the hell up. This is for your own good, we can’t do this.”

You can hardly believe he’s still being like this. 

“I used to know you were home. When I brought people over,” You whisper low against his skin. His eyes widen “You heard me too, I’m sure. So, be honest Mr. Dynamight, you think I can’t give you what you want or are you too afraid to find out?”

“You’re such a fucking punk.” He grits out. Still not denying your words. 

“That’s right,” You muse, words heated and heavy “I’m a worthless street punk trying to fuck the old man upstairs ‘cause I don’t know any better.” 

It’s not the first time you’ve kissed Bakugou in your life. The first time was when you came over to his place tipsy. In front of all the other pro-heros you had admired so much. It’s different this time. Not only are you both shockingly sober, there’s an aggression in it that wouldn’t be there before. No matter how begrudging he acts, he’s still kissing you back just as hard as you’d expect him too. His lips are softer than you thought they’d be, arms wrapped around your neck. Fuck he’s still so huge. How much does he work out to still be this jacked?

You can’t even imagine how that’s gonna look when you finally get to fuck him. Shit, just thinking about it sends electricity through your spine. You groan a little into his mouth, your hands tucked on his nape and tugging at the fine hairs. You push your incisors into his lower lip and tug, pulling away just slightly to intake how fucking flushed he is.

 He looks like a pornstar,

You pull away, hand cupping his jaw and forcing his mouth open. You’re gonna lose it if you stare too long. 

“You’re so fucking sexy.” 

“You’re not the first person to tell me that,” He mumbles. You laugh lightly at him. 

“Your cocky attitude is pretty sexy too,” You hum, amused. You kiss him one more time, hands reaching for the thickest part of his waist. He’s built like a trunk, but his reactions are almost girlish. The contrast is making you twitch. 

“Can’t say the same for you.” He spits. Your grin splits your face as you pull away from him, teeth nipping at his jaw. You can feel the scruff of his skin, unshaved as you let your tongue travel over it. 

“Aw, what? You don’t think I’m sexy.” You nudge a knee between his legs feeling the half-hard outline of his cock. You shudder “You sure about that?” 

“What the hell are they feeding brats like you?” 

“Liquor and cigarettes.” 

“Since when do you smoke?” 

“Helps me relax after work,” You whisper against the shell of his ear, teeth tugging at the lobe before “I get pretty stressed out. Sure you know something about that.” 

“Hngh, fuck. Fuck you.” 

“Do you even know how? Not like that thing gets much use, huh?” 

You reach down to cup his cock through his jeans, hard against the palm of your hand. He pushes his hips up slightly, sharpened glare. He pants. 

“You sound, shit, so fucking sure.” 

“I am sure. I’m looking to fuck you, not the other way around. Not sure how that’s gonna work since I don’t got my stuff on me.” 

You’re not sure what you’re expecting him to say. This whole thing is feeling like a fever dream you can’t wake up out of. Maybe he’ll give you a suggestion on what else to do.. But instead of that, a blush crawls onto his face. It leaves you floored. He looks away from you. 

“...Your shits still where you left it.” 

It takes you a second to register what he means. When you do, you can feel your brows hit your fucking hairline. There’s no way he’s saying what you think he is. 

“You’re shitting me.” 

“Shut the fuck up. I thought you’d come to pick it back up but you never did, and I went to go move it into some boxes. I didn’t have any reason to toss it.” 

A thought crosses into your mind. 

“Hey. Old man. Where is it?” 

He stares at you. You grasp onto him firmer, making him gasp. You can feel how heavy his cock is in your hands, rubbing it through the cloth of his sweats. You whisper harsh into his ears. 

“If I open your goddamn drawer right now, tell me, am I gonna find my old strap in it? Clean and getting use? You been fucking yourself with the thing I used to lay dick with?” 

When he doesn’t answer, pure glee ignites in you. He can’t answer, apparently. But his face is a harsh, permanent red now and his cock is painfully hard. You want to rail him into the fucking floor just for that. You wouldn’t make up some shit like that in your wildest dreams, so the fact that he’s not denying it makes your insides feel like they’re melting. You rub yourself against him, feeling how slick and hard your clit is just thinking about it. 

“Go lay down.” 

“Are you telling me what to do?” 

You grab his ass as hard as you can before landing a hit on it that makes him nearly topple over. Even though he’s bigger than you in more ways than one, he reacts like that. His anger only lasts so long before it morphs into want. 

“Of course I am. And you’re gonna listen.” 

“What makes you so sure about that, huh? You think you can satisfy me?” 

“You think you’re gonna intimidate me into backing down? After knowing you fuck your tight little ass to the thought of me? Fat chance.” 

“I didn’t say anything like that.” 

You laugh “You implied it. Now go lay down. Where’s your lube?” 

He frowns at you. 

“In the same drawer.” 

You give him a knowing grin to which he shoves your face away. Ultimately though he listens to you, lying and making himself comfortable in the sheet as you grab whatevers in his little sex drawer. He wasn’t kidding about the strap, the lube seated next to it. You grab both quickly and join him, hovering over him. 

You opt not to talk, slowing your pace to appreciate the view. You think he’s says something. Asks about what you’re doing and why - but you tune the words out as you run your hands over the curves of his body. He’s a wall of fucking muscle, his arms especially with a torso just tight enough for you to grab. The fabric of his shirt doesn’t leave much for imagination, but you’re still overwhelmed as you pull it up over his waist, his chest, his arms. The fabric comes loose and it’s nothing you haven’t seen before. You’ve got plenty of porn mags in your back pocket and even more boudoir shoots from him that you’ve stared at for hours. 

But seeing it in person is completely different. You can see the rise and fall of his chest - the raised skin of a scar and plenty of over scratches and wounds. Fuck, he is so sexy and you are so drunk on lust you almost feel sick. 

“Somethin’ catch your eye?” 

His voice draws you out of the trance you're in, a lazy smirk spread on his face. You laugh. 

“I get why you’re such a show-off,” This time you lean forward to kiss him - a hand wrapped around his throat, spare going to grab his chest. His tits are soft, they look like hard muscle and sinew but the fat is squished in your palms to perfectly for that“Fuck.” 

“You’re acting like a horny teenager.” He says flatly.  

“Been thinking about fucking you that long, so I guess so.” 

“Are you serious?” 

“Why’re you so shocked?” You make work kissing down his neck slowly, down his chest, one tweaking his nipple while your mouth makes work on the other one He swears above you, another wave of heat pulsing in your body “Don’t you hear shit like that all the time?” 

“Shit that feels—I didn’t think you were, hngh—serious.” 

“Obviously not. I still have all your slutty ass photos in my apartment somewhere.” 

He pants. Makes the prettiest fucking sounds for you as you grope and squeeze and touch his body. You bite, hard, into his tits leaving a red mark of teeth that makes him shudder. You need to do it all over again. 

“Haah, fuck. What the fuck?” 

“You’re way sexier in person if that’s worth anything,” You groan, a shudder passing through you “Like way sexier.” 

He looks like he wants to say something to you but the words die in his mouth. You laugh as you peer over him. His reactions are fucking adorable. Face is hot with a flush, watery eyes. Pretty. As much he’s rugged and strong and downright handsome, he is annoyingly fucking pretty. Having him underneath you is making all the power go to your head. Nothing feels more appealing to you right now than the idea of wrecking him completely. 

You kiss down his body until you’re at his waist, taking his pants off unceremoniously. You have half a mind to rip them but you’re sure they’re expensive. He lifts his legs for you anyways, leaving a tight pair of boxers that leave nothing for the imagination at all. 

“What the fuck,” You mumble, getting face to face with it. You pull the boxers off slowly, kissing his hip as you do. His cock pops out slowly as you pull it down. What an asshole. His dick is impossibly big too. A tuft of well trimmed blonde hairs sit neat at the base and the tip is a harsh red. There’s a little drop of pre-cum dribbling down the shaft that makes your brain feel fuzzy. It’s veiny too, tight balls sitting net at the base. 

Another shiver wracks through you, as you reach your hand out to touch it tentatively. He groans sharply. You stick your tongue out, licking up from base to tip. He tastes of salt and skin, but it isn’t bad. You let your tongue lick at the slit, elated looking at him squirm underneath you. 

“Nice dick.” You say back plainly. He snorts. 

“Fuck off.” 

‘’m serious,” You add, letting your eyes lid to look more serious “I don’t blow just anyone.” 

You open your mouth wide, pulling lips over teeth as you ease the tip slowly. It’s hot. Hard as steel and intrusive against your tongue, you can feel it throb. Pulsing relentlessly, you lower yourself onto it slowly - taking as much in as you can. It’s difficult and messy, tongue out to cover as much as you can. You suction your mouth slowly, hollowing your cheeks. There’s something that feels so good about having him in your mouth, something even better about watching the faces of pleasure he makes above you. 

You hum in appreciation and the vibrations prove to be too much as he nearly thrusts his dick into your throat. You brace yourself for it happening again - setting an even pace. He looks good like that, drowned in pleasure and unsure of what to do with himself. You wonder if it’s been a while since he’s acting so fucking cute about it. You assume as much. 

What he said before, you wonder if he was picturing it. If he felt guilty about it. The idea of him jerking off in shame over the thought of his dick in your mouth makes your spine tingle. You cup his balls in your hand, squeezing gently as you get into a steady rhythm. You feel him above you trying to hold it all in, the muscles in his abdomen tightening each time you manage to get down further. It’s hard to breathe, the back of your throat feels narrow. Your skin is on fire. 

“Fuck, fuck—where’d you learn how to—fuck!” 

You feel him getting ready to cum, so you pull off swiftly. A delicious, needy whine comes out of his throat that leaves you mesmerized. 

“What the hell?” He mumbles, heaving. You laugh. 

“Hey,” You hum, lifting his hips until you can see his hole - pink and twitching “Every had someone eat your ass?” 

“Are you offering?” 

“Yeah.” You say back, kissing the insides of his thighs, gripping the muscle “I wanna know if it feels good for you.” 

For whatever reason, this statement in particular makes his skin tinge pink. You hold back a laugh internally. 

“So fucking weird.” 

“Is that a no?” 

“Do whatever you want.” 

You chuckle at that. You sink your teeth into him again, this time working on the build up. His muscles give tension to your incessant biting, hard bone against muscle as you mark up his thick thighs. His ass is nice like you’d expect, tight and muscular. You work your way towards his hole slowly, thumb circling the tight ring of muscle first to gauge his reaction. He shudders, making you hold back a laugh.

“Kinda sensitive,” You say amused. You can feel him glaring without having to look “You can’t cum without it now, right?” 

You’re mostly saying it in jest but the prolonged silence leaves you at a loss for words. Your eyes snap up at him, watching him huff and puff in embarrassment. Heat rolls through your body. 

“It’s not like I fucking can’t ever, alright?” 

“You’re too cute for your own good.” 

“Don’t fucking call me cute you shitty little brat.” 

“But you’re acting kinda adorable, old man,” You say slyly. You stick your tongue out, licking a long stripe against him. He shakes “Blushing up a fucking storm. Been a while?” 

“Not really.” 

“Oh, so it’s just ‘cause it’s me then?” 

He looks like a fucking cherry. You laugh. 

“To think you were so against it. How’d you hide your expressions that long? Did it help you to masturbate to the thought of me fucking you?” 

“Would you shut up?” 

“I don’t feel like it.” 

Before he can scold you any more, you let your tongue slip against the exposed rim. The reaction is tentative at first, slow licks trying to gauge if this is something he’s even into. You do it again and again, burying yourself deep. He makes a noise that you recognize to be a muffled moan. You groan in appreciation, repeating the action - letting yourself dip into the tightness of it. You can feel the muscles of his body go taut as you grip him - hands over the tops of his thighs. The action is more shameless the longer you let yourself indulge.

You’ll have to fuck him open anyways before you actually get on top. You think doing this much will make everything easier. Mostly you’re doing it because you like seeing him embarrassed. The gap in appearance vs expression never gets old. Seeing like this repeatedly proves to be novel and fuck knows if he’s gonna let you do it again any time soon. You’re more than determined to squeeze out every last ounce of his pride. 

You want to see everything. 

And frankly, pleasuring him like this is driving you all kinds of crazy. Not like you’ve ever been a selfish lover. Always aiming to please or whatever. But he’s got such a raw fucking sex appeal looking the way he does it’s making you drip. You’re pretty damn sure you’ve soaked through everything you have on and you’re not sure how much longer you’re gonna make it without touching yourself. 

It’s all material you’re committing to memory, either way. If anyone saw him like this, you’re pretty sure they’d fall head over heels just like you. It’s hard not to give him everything he’s ever wanted Not to want to fuck him within an inch of his life, just to see his big muscular frame curl in on itself. He’d look so good all messed up, all knotted with pleasure. 

You can feel it again this time, another wave of desire that makes his cock twitch. You wrap your finger around the shaft, holding it around his balls so he doesn’t cum without asking you. He lets out a noise of disapproval that you ignore, pulling your mouth away. Pre-cum dribbles out of tip. You use your finger to swipe it up and lick it. 

He looks scandalized. 

“Not bad. You eat clean huh.” 

“You’re going to kill me someday.” 

“You’re too young and too healthy to die.” 

He makes a face of disapproval at you. You toss him the lube before grabbing the strap. 

“Think you can work yourself open for me tough guy? Normally, I’d do it myself. Edge you out nice and slow, get you all soft. But I’m dying to fuck you already and I wanna make you cum on my cock.”

He looks at you exasperated. 

“Where’d you learn to talk like that?” 

“Casual sex and porn mags. You don’t like it?” 

“It makes you sound your age.” 

“Want me a little more suave? Tell you that I’m gonna make love to you?” 

He snorts. You take off your boxers and sit up on your knees as Bakugou opens the lube in his hands. You watch him idly, mostly focusing on wiggling yourself in the harness and making sure it’s comfortable enough to fuck in. 

He takes a deep breath, and you watch him reach between his legs. How it’s difficult since he’s so muscular. You almost want to help him, but instead you get between his legs again. Stood on your knees with a heavy bit of silicone weighing you down. You connect the tip to his, watching him push a finger in slowly. 

“Not if you say it like that.” 

“Having trouble there?” 

“You piece of shit.” 

“A worthless punk or something. C’mon, just say it. Ask me to finger your ass so I can fuck you. Or you want me to say something more delicate?” 

“Fuck, c’mon just, help me already.” 

“What’s the magic word?” 

“....Please, you worthless asshole.” 

You grin, grabbing the lube from the bed and squeezing it into your fingers. You laugh, leaning over him. 

“Got some manners left in you after everything, huh?”

You pull him down towards him by the waist, pulling his legs up. You kiss the inside of his knees, nudging his legs apart as you position your hands, warming the lube between your fingers. He’s surprised by your strength, but you don’t do anything but grin. 

“Keep your legs up for me, yeah?”

He scoffs but doesn’t go against your will. He looks good waiting for you like that, so you don’t take too much time trying to split him open. His hands are thicker than yours, so your first finger slides in like it’s nothing. He’s soft and hot on the inside, and the way he accommodates you lets you know this isn’t the first time he’s done this.

It doesn’t irritate you as much as you think it should. Maybe you’re a little screwed up to think it’s sexy but the idea of him getting fucked at any point is turn on. Once you’re down to the knuckle and you can pump in and out of him easily, you use a second finger to stretch him further. There’s more resistance so you slow, feeling up against his walls for the place you know it’ll feel good. 

You know you find it because his whole body tightens up in front of you. His eyes shoot open and he’s all breathy and fucked out. You relish in it. 

“Right there?” 

He must be feeling good with how little he’s combating you. 

“Y-yeah.” 

You lean forward to plant a kiss on him again but this time it’s tender. He must feel really good because he wraps his arms around your neck to keep you there. You moan in surprise and when you pull back he looks hazed out of his mind.

“Didn’t know you could make a face like that.” You say, amused. He frowns at you. 

“I’m not happy about it either.” 

A laugh falls out of you and you catch the faintest whisper of a smile on his lips that has you kissing the corners of his mouth. He catches himself before he leans into it too easily, but you notice before he can shy away. 

“Looks like I’m making your heart flutter. Forget the ethics for a little and let me.” 

“I should toss you out of a fucking window.” 

“You’re not gonna though.” 

This he doesn’t reply to. You slip a third finger while he’s distracted and he gasps. This time he’s almost stretched completely. You give him a minute to breathe, swallowing up the little sounds he makes with a hearty grin. It’s so fucking good just doing this. Incredible. Way better than you could’ve ever imagined. 

“I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you,” You say, bemused. He’s delirious enough to laugh. 

“The stamina of youths scares the hell outta me.” 

“I don’t wanna hear it from a retired pro.” 

This time he grins. You find yourself pleased with the development. 

He’s stretched now, and restless. You pull your hand away and rub the remaining slick onto the tip of your cock, giving him a look. 

“Do you know how you want me?” 

“It’s your fantasy fuck,” He says, semi-sarcastically “Do whatever you want.” 

You laugh, tapping his ass lightly. 

“Turn over and stick your ass up a little.” 

“Don’t wanna see my face?” 

“Wanna see how you swallow my cock up like it’s nothing, more like.” 

He curses under his breath. You feel accomplished. He turns over just like you’ve asked him too and fuck the sight of him is way too much. You can’t get over it. He’s big and strong and trembling with desire and it’s driving your sex-drive as high as it can possibly go. You move so your knees are on either side of his thighs. Leaning forward, you lick up from the small of his spine all the way up his shoulder, before sinking your teeth in the junction in between. 

He groans underneath you, and your hands make themself present around his hips. Most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen in your life. The fucking arch and the scars and the ruggedness of all of it. 

“You’re damn gorgeous.” You say, with utter and sincere appreciation “It’s driving me fucking crazy.” 

“Save your smooth talk.” 

“I’m bein’ serious,” You say, pulling his ass apart with your palms “Like. Woah.” 

He snorts “Real poetic.” 

“I barely graduated school, asshat.” 

In the midst of your bantering, you let the tip of your cock slip into him slowly. It steals the words of reply out of his mouth in an instant. You can feel him melt underneath you. At the intrusion, at the feeling. At every single sensation. You feel the phantom of it in your spine. Like there’s fireworks in all your nerve-endings, just watching how his ass looks around it. Just the tip with no movement, no adjusting. 

He’s silent, shuddering - holding onto a pillow. A bead of sweat rolls down his spine. He has little dimples in his back. You groan. 

“Shit. Look at you.” 

The praise seems to make him keen. He’s always been one to like the attention. You roll your hips, fucking another inch into him agonizingly slow. He moans like he’s deflating, breathing ragged and voice raw. You rock back and forth until there’s no longer anything to resist, then push in and in and in. 

Once you bottom out with his ass against your pelvis and your hips on the back of his thighs, you lean forward and press your weight on top of him. You think he’s expecting something else, because he seems surprised. But you let yourself weigh upon him, then with a heavy grunt - cup his jaw and tilt his head to kiss him. 

“You like that?” 

“Shut up.” 

“C’mon. Be honest. You look like you like it. Ears turning so red.” 

He groans. 

“In your fucking dreams.” 

“Still not gonna budge huh?” You say. anchoring yourself at his sides with a deep sigh “So stubborn.” 

When you feel stable enough to move, you don’t hesitate to fuck him with all of the expertise you have. You give it to him in just the right way, measure up to where he needs you but don’t give in quite enough. It’s a strenuous affair but you keep it at. A steady pace that’s hard and deep but not good enough to make him cum. Something to leave him on the edge, you fuck him just like that. The sound of skin hitting skin and short, broken moans echo in the room. 

You focus on taking him like that, making sure each and every thrust is precise and calculated until he gets where you want him to be. You can practically feel when it’s starting to really get to him. When he can no longer hold himself up, so resigns to smushing his face against the pillow and going limp. You lean up, moving so you can pull his hips back with you - hovering off the bed on his knees instead of laying on his stomach. 

This time you reach deeper. His whining gets louder, more in tune with everything. You laugh as you reach around him, hands gripping at the base of his cock. It takes patience to unravel him like this, matching your hands to your movements until everything is in a slow, steady synchronization. Fast but not fast enough. Hard, but not hard enough. Close but not close enough. 

He lets out a heady groan that reverberates in his chest, opening his mouth finally. 

“C-c’mon. Just. C’mon.” 

“Aw what?” You say, rolling your hips up against him, where you know he wants you most “What is it, hm? Did you want something?” 

“Fuck. Just. Fuck me already.” 

“I am fucking you, though?” 

“You know what I mean!” 

“Oh, you want me to fuck you harder? Make you cum? I thought you didn’t like it.” 

He groans, dropping against the pillows again. 

“I didn’t say that. C’mon just. Please.” 

His voice is hoarse when he asks. You laugh against his shoulders, listening to his requests. Giving it to him how he needs it. Harder and a little deeper, you can feel it now. How you knock into the place inside him that leaves him trembling and shaking. You can read his cues now, when he starts getting close. But of course it’s not gonna be that easy. 

You keep the pace stand, putting your hand on the tip of his cock. You rub your thumb over the slit and hold it there. He sucks in a breath, whining a little. 

“Wanna cum so bad?” You offer, mouth twisted in a feral grin “Tell me you love me.” 

This knocks the wind out of him. 

“What?” 

“Say you love me with all your heart and I’ll let you cum.” 

“You’ve got to be fucking with me.” 

You fuck into him hard right where he needs you. He moans. 

“Nah. My fantasy fuck, remember? Right now, we’re playing love birds.’ Like’ works too, I guess. If you’re too scared,” You half-way mock, starting a pace now that borders cruel “Now say it nice and sweet and I’ll let you cum.” 

“You’re such a—agh, fuck,” He shudders against the bedsheets, repeating himself as you pound him. It’s easy to piston your hips. He’s so sensitive to begin with that it doesn’t take much “You’re insane.” 

“C’mon, old man. Confess your feelings to me like we’re sweethearts.” 

“In your dr—oh, shit.” 

“What was’at? Did you wanna say something?” 

You can practically feel him turn it over in his head. You’re mostly doing it to mess with him. Punishment for all of his beating around the bush and bullshitting. Getting to fuck him has been more than enough. 

So you’re not expecting him to stop you. To turn over flat on his back and lay with his legs spread and wrap his arms around your waist and stare at you through hazy, flushed eyes. This time you’re really looking at him. At the lines on his face and the scruff and an expression torn with time and desire and lust. Your heart nearly falls out of your fucking ass when he wraps his arms around your neck, palming your nape and pushing your foreheads together. 

When you’re nose to nose, he looks very serious all of a sudden. You swallow something in your throat, unsure of what else to do. 

“Gonna say this one fucking time, only. So listen up cause I’m not gonna repeat myself.” 

He’s got to be fucking with you. 

“Love you..I love you or whatever.  But that doesn’t mean—” 

Before he can finish his sentence, you put your hands up under his knees and fuck him for all you’ve got. Half-way as revenge for the shitty confession and half-way because if you think too long about what he’s saying you’re pretty sure you’re going to collapse. 

He sounds good under you, as you fist his cock and laugh in absolute fucking delight. You stare at him hard. At his fucked out expression. You’re gonna cuss him out as soon as this shit is over, you swear. What an asshole. 

“O-oh, oh fuck, I’m gonna, g-gonna cum.” 

You goad him cause you aren’t sure what else you should do at this point. 

“Yeah? Gonna cum on my cock? Show it to me. Let me see what you look like.” 

The words are enough to push him over the edge. He gets unraveled right before your eyes, his whole body pulled like a bow before losing all the tension. You can feel his cock twitching hotly in your palms. Thick strings of white covering your fingers as you fuck him through it. He sounds so perfect like that, so fucking good for you. You can feel your whole body ready to give out just watching. 

When Bakugou finally finishes, he releases you from his grip. You pull out only seconds after, staring at his flushed state in wide-eyed disbelief. 

“Were you serious?” You ask, because it’s the only thing you can think to ask. He sighs, tired. 

“Yeah.” 

Where the hell is this dudes class? 

“Fuck.” 

He laughs, laid down before poking his head back up to stare at you. 

“You didn’t cum yet.” It’s more of a statement than a question. You shake your head. 

“Not yet. I can take care of it.” 

He clicks his teeth.

“No way. Come ‘ere.” 

You undo the harness of your strap before crawling over to where he’s laid. You end up standing on your knees. He props himself up on his elbows, and you look down at him absolutely mesmerized. He crinkles his nose at you. 

“That fucking lovesick look on your face is gross.” 

“Been like this for four years.” 

He flushes. 

You stand in front of him, bare on your knees. He reaches forward, brushing the hair over the hood of your clit gently.

“You’re so wet.” He murmurs. You laugh. 

“Yeah, no shit.” You say, too tired to do much arguing “Lemme borrow your mouth,” 

He snorts “Got it.” 

You fist your hands into his hair and tug, bringing his open mouth to your clit with a sigh. Your cunts sort from being pushed into and neglected. Even the barest brush of his mouth is making you shiver. Bakugou must know a little something about this, because he latches onto you without thinking twice. The sudden added pressure has heat building your stomach at the speed of light. You don’t think you’ve ever felt so on edge in such a short period of time. 

Plus looking down at him while you hump against his face is enthralling. 

“You’d make a cute little wife, old man,” You say thoughtfully, dull pleasure aching as you tuf his hair at the root “You can cook, clean, bake and you know how to use your mouth fucking perfectly.” 

He gives you a look of exasperation, but the warmth down his neck tells you he likes it. You laugh, throwing your head back. The visible sight of arousal flowing down his chin and making his face messy is making you more horny than you know what to do with. You don’t have the energy to cum more than once but you’re sure when you wake you you’re gonna be horny all over again. 

You try not to think too hard about it as you feel the knot in your stomach grow tighter before unraveling all at once. Your insides are hotter than lava, the entire lower half convulsing as the strength in your thighs and legs gets lost gradually. Bakugou sucks until you’re nearly overstimulated, and you have to pull him away before it really gets to be too much for you. 

“You taste good.” He says thoughtfully. You laugh. 

“Got plenty more if you want it.” 

“We should clean up.” 

“You’re not kicking me out?” 

“I’m not a villain, damn it.” 

“You feel like one for that loser ass confession, but I’ll let it slide. I need a fucking nap though. Getting my ass kicked and having incredible sex in the same day is exhausting.” 

He laughs as you lay down besides him, sitting up. Even in your half exhausted state, you catch the feeling of his lips on your forehead. 

“Get some rest you brat.” 

__ 

You wake up in a familiar bed. 

If the sore feeling of laying pipe wasn’t in your hips, you’re pretty damn sure you just woke up out of a dream. What the fuck just happened to you? Your back and body is sore, but you’re clean like you’ve been wiped down. You’re stark naked though. 

The idea that he could give you a wipe but not dress you makes you laugh. When you sit up, all of your clothes are sitting still on a chair. There’s some new clothes on top of them though, his clothes. You stand to your feet, your back cracking as loud as possible as you examine the wounds. You have some hickies now (when the hell did he leave those) and when you turn there’s some scratches on your back. You feel self-satisfaction as you get dressed. You should hit the showers when you feel less lethargic. 

When you’ve reconciled with the fact you didn’t just conjure up what happened a few hours ago, you trek back into the living room. You find Bakugou where you expect him, bent over the stove making dinner. You lean on the frame of the door with a grin before walking over to him. 

You don’t hesitate in sliding your hands on his waist under his tank top. Better, he doesn’t react like you’ve shot him dead. A laugh blooms in your chest. 

“Morning grandpa.” 

“You fucking—if you don’t sit down.” 

You snort, but sit yourself down at the counter like you did a few hours ago. 

“Whatcha making for dinner.” 

“Grilled fish and rice. There’s sides.” 

“Sounds healthy.” 

His ears turn red. 

‘“You have work tomorrow but you need to recover.” 

You couldn’t smile more if you fucking tried. 

“We gonna talk about what just happened,” You ask, pouring yourself a glass of water as you sit down. You take a long sip “Or are you gonna pretend to keep washing rice?” 

He sighs, putting down the dry rice and the cup to measure. He almost looks furious, but he’s too cute for it to mean anything to you. You grin. 

“Hey. Fucking. Look. Alright. You’re way too fucking young. I’m old enough to be your father a-and you only just barely got your life together, so yes I told you whatever I told you. But no fucking funny business until you’re at least 25 and your brain is developed more than a peanut.” 

You nod.. 

“Anyone ever tell you you’re kinda a coward old man?” You say thoughtfully. He looks pissed again but it’s too funny for you to care “What’s funny business? Sex? Cause if it is, I’ve got bad news.” 

“We just. We have to be careful.” 

“So I can kiss, hug, fuck you in private but keep it outta the press?” 

He stares at you, scratching his neck. “Yeah. Basically.” 

You give him a thumbs up, grabbing a snack off the tray on his table. Chips, the fancy kind. They’re good. 

“Got it. Can I stay over? I don’t feel like driving down to my hotel this late.” 

“....You’re not pissed?” 

You laugh. 

“Are you kidding? I wasn’t mad the first time cause you rejected me, I was mad cause you were acting all fucking ethical and holier-than-thou. I figured it was gonna be something like that anyway. And I’m not much of a romantic, so dates and shit are whatever to me,” 

“Forreal?” 

“Yeah. Having sex and staying over to hang out for a while is cool. It was your fat head worrying about it, not mine. Did Mr. Deku managed to talk you out of your crisis while I was asleep?” 

He gives you a look. Bullseye again. 

“You two keep in touch?” 

“He’s a good dude and he buys me a meal when I’m short on change. Jealous?” 

He turns away from you before answering. His ears are burning. You feel your heart squeeze. 

What shit taste you’ve got being head over heels for this old bastard, you wonder. 

“Just shut up and eat your chips.” 

“Uh-huh. Whatever you say.”

[bomberqueen17]

sewing and dyeing

I have managed to achieve some sewing!

I finished the silk dress from the yardage I'd dyed around Christmas, even hemmed it and everything, I feel very accomplished. So that's done.

And the linen bias-cut slip dress I made around Christmas, which I never wore anywhere because it was white-- I've managed to dye it, and it came out much more interesting than I'd expected! So, pictures and discussion behind the cut.

[image description: A mirror shot of me, a fat blonde white woman, in a grungy basement, wearing a clingy white knit tank top with a drapey cowl neck]

Firstly, I made this tank top (I bound the armholes, it looks nicer that way)-- started with the Cashmerette Wexford top, then used this tutorial from Threads Magazine to hack a cowl neck onto it. Ages ago I'd had a cowl neck sleevless top that I loved, and wore holes in, and couldn't find one again. So I used a yard or so of very slinky knit, probably some kind of rayon blend from Dharma would be my guess.

I tried it on, and immediately threw it in the soda ash solution to dye it because I don't need a white top like this, it'll get shit dripped on the tit immediately so I might as well give it a busy dye job. I will make more of this top in other fabrics, but 1) make the cowl just a bit longer so it drapes farther, and 2) make the self facing deeper, I feel like this one is going to flip out all the damn time.

I also think I'll hem this shorter, but I haven't hemmed it at all so far so it remains to be seen.

Secondly, I have nearly finished this button-up camp-collar shirt from the Cashmerette Club, in a natural linen that I have so many yards of from an old project I never did.

[image description: me in the same grubby cluttered mirror view of my basement, wearing a gray shirt, slightly wrinkly, with unfinished sleeve edges and I'm holding it shut because there aren't buttons on it yet. There are two breast pockets and one is significantly higher than the other.] So the breast pockets are optional and uh I am definitely only going to put one or zero on the next one of these I make because I checked and rechecked and rechecked and this is literally the best I could do at making them even??? ugh also they don't sit right because there's a bust dart and one of them went on ok and somehow the other one is overlapping the bust dart slightly, which means it's Not On Straight. Just.... not optimal. I get why there are pockets but I also super get why they're optional. No thanks!

I hate the interfacing too, it was awful to work with and feels like paper. But once I've finished and washed this I hope it will settle down. (In the past I've used shitty salvaged interfacing for things I was making, and used spray adhesive and sewed the edges where possible, and it worked fine. This, I splashed out and got the stuff in the package that's ostensibly meant to fuse on with your iron and guess what doesn't fucking work? that. So it's been just a nightmare and I'm not buying the nice stuff again because it fucking sucks. I get that you don't want to not interface the collar of a shirt like this, and the button band would be awful un-interfaced, but christ, I'm using the flimsy salvaged shit I cut out of an old bedskirt next time.

The directions on this pattern are... well as long as you know what they mean it's great. But there's a video sewalong, and that helped a ton. This is a very complicated pattern and yet somehow none of it has been beyond me, even though i sewed one bust dart inside-out first thing, and immediately also sewed the yoke to the back inside-out, and then right away also assembled the collar inside-out because I was so distracted by how much the interfacing did not actually fucking do what it was supposed to (yes i followed the package directions, no it did not fucking fuse). I got a lot of seam-ripping done, is all. (It really is a cool pattern, and if you manage to get through the directions, which are extremely specific, you wind up with a fully-finished interior with almost all the seam allowances beautifully enclosed-- it's cool as fuck.)

I have fabric already set aside to make at least two more of these. IDK how much I'll wear them but I love them. (I *have* coveted a shirt-dress for years, with one Almost Okay from Torrid that I wore a lot but have recently realized looks awful on me actually, so I will be making it a dress too, no fear.)

But then! Also: Dyeing!

So I looked on Dharma Trading for their tutorials and was not disappointed. I don't want to do traditional tie-dye, but I want the effect I got at Christmas with the silk scarves that I space-dyed. I don't have to steam-set fiber-reactive dyes, so that's a plus.

I saw this tutorial on dharma for ombre dyeing and I'm super gonna try that next, but haven't yet.

Tie Dye Tutorial on Dharma Trading: this is the one I used as a starting point.

So I dissolved a cup of soda ash in a gallon of warm water, put that in a plastic bucket, and soaked my fabric for 5-15 minutes, and then I decided to do a kind of gravity-based thing with squirt bottles and a spray bottle. I hung a clothes hanger from the gas pipe in the ceiling, put a big plastic mortar tub underneath, put a smock on myself, mixed up my dyes (and urea and in some cases salt, as directed by dharma the all-knowing-- half-cup batch size for the squirt bottles, and quarter-cup sizes for the spray bottle), and got to work one garment at a time.

I put some pleats into the garments and held them with clothes pins. Then I sort of "drew" along the pleats, picking a color to be the tops, and a second color to squirt into the valleys. I filled in with the spray bottle to highlight the pleats more, since that would hit the outer parts of the folds but the interior would be shadowed and stay white; then I could go draw in those white areas with my shadow color.

Everything then would drip down toward the hem of the garment, though there wasn't really that much movement; if I wanted a drip to cascade, i had to draw it down there myself with the squeeze bottle.

[image description: two squeeze bottles with narrow nozzles, and a spray bottle of more rigid plastic with a pump-dispenser top, sitting on top of a piece of stained scrap fabric on an old washing machine with tubs of dye powder sitting in the background.]

I also did a shirt where I spread it out on a rack in a pan at an angle, and sprinkled a mixture of dye powder and salt on it. Then I went and used the squirt bottles too, but it was a fun technique and I'd use it again.

[image description: a garment lies in loose folds, speckled with dark blue-green spots, and at the top decorated in splotches of blue and green.]

I wrapped the garments in plastic, and put the smaller ones into plastic bags, and then hung them outside in the sun so that a) the dye would flow downward rather than backstaining the areas I'd meant to leave white, and b) the sun would warm them so the dye could cure, and c) the plastic would keep them wet because the dye only chemically sets while damp.

Let them cure for 24h, and then today I brought them in and rinsed them for about a thousand years, and then washed them and gave them a soak and rinse in dye-fixative, then dried them on the line.

Here is the linen bias-cut slipdress I made at Christmas time, dry and ironed.

[image description: a dress on a hanger, with my hand pulling out one side of the skirt: the straps and neckline are bright emerald green, and then the body is streaked vertially with varying shades of green, teal, and dark blue, with a little purple at the hemline. The colors are light and a little muted, and some white shows between them in a few places.]

The linen took the dye lightest, the cotton a little darker, and a small offcut of rayon I'd had sitting around took the dye darkest of all.

here's everything still damp on the line:

[image description: under a blue sky, a metal clothes-tree-style line on the left has several small items in shades of green and turquoise, and then a line crosses the screen from right to left through the middle, with several items hanging on it. In the background are two cotton dresses, one mostly teal and the other green at the top with a white and purple skirt, then the linen dress from above in the middle, and closest to the camera is a mostly-quite sheet of fabric with geometric lines in green, blue, and purple.]

The foreground fabric is the rayon, and I sandwiched it between two blocks of wood with rubber bands holding it in place, and just saturated the edges with dyes. I'm extremely into it, it came out beautifully. i have more rayon so I am going to make something from that to ombre-dye, for sure.

I have severely overdone my physical activity the last two days though; I lay awake for a couple of hours the other night with my sciatic nerve just burning, and I expect the same tonight. We'll see though, maybe I'lll be pleasantly surprised, or just lucky.

Oh yah I'm trialing Ritalin, but just like the other medications, it's such a low dose and it's not extended-release. I looked up how to take it and the directions assumed I'd been given two or three pills to get through a day. Not so! So I have about four medicated hours in a day, and keep experimenting with where to put them. I don't notice it wearing off the way I did with Adderall though, so there's that at least.

Maybe by the end of May I can try a full dose of something, and see if that helps. IDK, it seems like it might.

[enteroctopusdarkysilis]

✨Custom air Toa !✨

6/6, that’s the last one ! And the biggest one, too-

Closeups under the cut !

Front/back views

As you might notice, it is tall. And it has more than four limbs, which would not be a problem if it was the only one. But. It appears that all my green mocs end up with too much limbs, and I can’t fathom why. Really, another prototype standing on my desk also has for and so does the green hero factory one…You get the idea.

Anyway, the colour scheme for this one is dark green and silver, with some translucent bright green accents. Using only bright green would have brought too much contrast with the others Toas (notably the dark red one), but I had these cool pieces to use and no one else to put them onto. And since these are experimental…

The two supplementary limbs are intended as movement claws, given that we usually see air Toas moving in jungles (Lewa mostly, that is). The silver pieces at the front and back ends are respectively Kopaka’s skis and Pohatu’s foot pieces (shoes ?). The largest bits are made out of technic pieces directly, to give some simple angles.

Bust views

I find this silver/green chest piece really cool, it’s a shame I don’t have much of them. The two bright pieces on either sides are Vahki head pieces, and since their only connectors are on their relative tops (side of the piece in their actual orientation), you may remark that they are connected to nothing. I’m having the arm socket go through them, and the rest of the body’s shape avoid too many movements. While nice, this also limits the movement range of the arms, but it works well enough (these are not really made to play, anyway~). The two bright pieces with spikes are from a Ehlek. Wish I could have managed to put that one back together, but it instead served a higher purpose.

The Kanohi is Hordika Matau’s, with transparent Bohrok eyes underneath (it share this technic with my previous white Toa). The back piece is coming from a Piraka, but it’s actually a broken piece. I have quite a bunch of these, where the mask and flexible parts have broken off, so I make the most of it (like you might see in the future on another MOC). I’m using technic angle (type 3, to be precise) to keep the shape of the middle ones, but the others are free.

Finally, a (dismantled) leg view.

Finally, the leg segment !

The Toa was too big for proper leg showcase, my lights created terrible contrasts (shelf not deep enough…), so here is a stand alone leg instead.

Once again I have integrated the Metru chest piece to the leg, but as a foot this time. It offers a good stability and looks nice.

The next part doesn’t have much interesting bits, except that I’m using technic tubes to hold the additional piece, making this technic less illegal that my usual works (keyword : less; there is still a whole lot of stress on these poor pieces).

The top part is…somewhat more complicated. The frame is of technic pieces (like the additional limbs), which keeps together an immobile socket joint which keeps the double socket and two Bohrok feet (one for decoration, one connected to the hip socket). The double socket is used both to connect the two halves of the leg and to hold the small arm piece which is here only for decoration.

And that’s it for this series ! I’m hoping to bring them to next month’s exhibition, along with some Bionicle MOCs I haven’t showcased here because…shelf…Given the sheer size of my big project (posted here next week in theory), I’m gonna have to improvise something quickly, and profite of it to get some pictures of my other big ones while I’m at it. Eh, I’ll figure it out (and if I don’t, I’ll just delete that statement later :}

Thanks for reading, have a good day !

[myrmyrtheorca]

Myeeeeell! Hi, hi~!! I hope you're doing well, dear! I'll ask about my personal favourite: Lidija. "What would your character wear if they were told they had to gussy up?", "Would your character prefer something bought or made personally?" and "What type of environment does your character like best?"

Hello Momo 🩵🩵 boredom at work strikes again so it's time to be productive and keep answering questions~

Putting this under the read more jail because Lidija has a lot to say about dresses LMAO

- What would [Lidija] wear if they were told they had to gussy up: ok disclaimer, I've never heard of this expression before so I had to look it up, hopefully I understood the assignment here and answered correctly if not please feel free to tell me if I missed the mark 🙏 if there are any subtle meanings to the phrase I'm pretty sure I didn't catch them lel

After freaking out from the excitement of being invited to some event where she can dress up and taking approximately one week (in the best case scenario) to choose what to wear, our little princess will be up and running ready to blind you with her sparks! This sounds like PR and it is, this is a Lidija-sponsored post here we celebrate the marshmallow

Her favourite choices include long dresses, because she feels really uncomfortable when her legs are showing, even if it's just the ankles. The puffier/larger/more full the skirt is, the better: anything too tight will show her silhouette and hinder her when it's time to ✨dance✨ (she's convinced it's an established part of every social gathering) So no cocktail or sheath dresses, and mermaid ones only when she's super confident about it.

She has much less problems with showing her shoulders and arms, though, and this makes her a big fan of strapless dresses! I'd say her perfect fit would be a strapless top with a gown-like lower half, and an empire or basque-style waistline.

You'll probably notice I've only talked about dresses, and that's because it's her favourite thing to wear. Long palazzo pants are the most daring piece of clothing she'll wear. She's a big fan of blouses knot right under the bust though! So if it's a more informal type of gathering, she'll probably attend with one of those and a long high-waist skirt.

As for shoes and accessories, high-heel boots are her go-to for anything. In general the higher the heels are, the better. She likes to style her hair a lot and has scrunchies/pins/circlets for every occasion. She must stand out, she's royalty!

Favourite colours: pastels, shades of red, ABSOLUTELY NOT PURPLE.

Favourite patterns: polka dots, Scottish,plain with sparkles/small shiny decors, lace.

- What type of environment does [Lidija] like best: the bustling streets of a big city! Much like Myr, Lidija likes places full of stimuli (and shops). She's very extroverted and feels at ease in the crowd. Bonus points if it's one of those picturesque villages aimed at tourists like Cortina d'Ampezzo.

- Would [Lidija] prefer something bought or made personally: if you make something for her with your own hands she'll find that very sweet and thank you profusely.

Having said that, if you bring her to one of those fancy malls and there's a Celine or Yves Saint Laurent boutique... she'll find that VERY sweet and will thank you PROFUSELY.

May the lord himself financially help whoever she ends up with.

Ok memes aside, she really values it when someone takes the time to make stuff for her, because it doesn't really happen often. But if given money, she's a menace and spends it in the blink of an eye, so letting her indulge in her shopping habits by giving her a hand would also make her super happy.

[justatalkingface]

I saw your answer for the ua sending kids to danger, especially war, and I raise you a different possibility (100% speculation on my part) "can we say for sure the others schools were asked the same thing but said no?"

Yes. We dont know anything about the others schools. Maybe they offer and Hori never show as we saw them entering in the war part 2: the eletrical bangaloo....but to be fair, it would be hard for them to sit in class and doing homework as war is literally in their grounds, streets and so forth.

But on part 1. We dont see the others students there. So again, my especulation, what if they had put feets down and said no?

But Nezu said yes? I can think of a few reasons for that. (Keep in mind I dont think Nezu is a smart as Hori and the fandom wants us to think)

1) could have been a power play of sort. "Only mys students can handle this" which well...could work as Nezu is not human and doesnt seem to care about the students on a whole (remmeber Mina and Kami vs Nezu? How fair was that?)

2) he genuinely thought his students would be an asset to the heroes and said ok. Which makes me believe even more he doesnt care for his students's safety.

3) he was forced. Ok, what could have made him agree to this? Blackmail comes to mind but what secret is si damn important you are willing to send kids to war?

Those are my top 3 reasons. And not sure if is canon this but I think the class A1 didnt know they were sent to a war...if this is true, then is anothet adult(non human) who failed Izu.

Like MHA is an accidental dystopia.

The thing is with Nezu is the age old standard of Int/Wis; Nezu is book smart, he has a lot of knowledge, facts, and ability to apply those facts to make a thing happen. That's Intelligence, the ability to use your mind, and he's probably only has even faintest hint of competition in his sheer Int score with Dr. Diabolus Ex Machina.

Wisdom, on the other hand, is when you go, 'But should I do this'?

At a memetically extreme example, a High Int, Low Wis character could find a door somewhere, decide to open it, and make a siege engine out of, I don't know, hamburgers and coat hangers to bust it open. This is certainly a thing they could do, and it'd work because they are, in fact, that spot.

Meanwhile, the character with higher (any) Wisdom would walk up to the door... and then try to open it like a normal person.

Intelligence is ability to use your mind, and Wisdom is what tells you how you should use your mind, and when you look at Nezu, you only really see Intelligence, and then no one in story ever seems to question his decisions, really, because he's really smart, but there's a real question if he uses his intelligence well? Because there are a lot of 'I can do this, but no one, including me, ever asked if I should do this' kinds of choices in UA, and if we're not just blaming it on bad writing, all of that comes down to Nezu, in the end. The literal cities they just... have? The robots that probably have killed people? The Sports Festival? All of those are thing with very questionable elements that UA does anyways, seemingly because they can and no one's ever stopped them from doing it.

That's looking at the question from the angle of 'Nezu, while well meaning, made a bad call'. There is, however, one other major option, and it starts with this: why does Nezu run a school? On a fundamental level, I'm not sure Nezu's goal in running UA is for the students, so much as he views the students as a step towards his goal.

Unironically, he's a sadist who enjoys low-key torturing human beings because of past trauma, which... before anything else, begs a question: is it just low-key torture he likes? Or is he just practical enough to realize than anything more would be more trouble than it's worth?

But, beyond that problem, let's look at his position: he's the head of UA, the biggest, bestest school for Heroes, which is a job that comes with a lot of publicity/power, which, inevitably, rolls back to him. His job allows him massive amounts of control over the development of the cutting edge of heroism, who by dint of their fame and success influence other heroes, all of which collectively influences Japanese society as a whole by a pretty significant degree.

Meanwhile, Nezu is: brilliant, deeply traumatized, likes torturing, and through that defacto controlling, humans. He's also not a human, and takes pains at times to point out that others are humans and he's not, while also having assumably inhuman instincts and priorities; almost certainly he has some level of anti-human bias.

There's... there's an obvious correlation here. Fundamentally, Nezu is a character who seems to be made to be complicated, imperfect, with dark depths to him. The way he's written, Hori clearly doesn't want him to be, but, well, he writes a lot of deeply flawed characters we're supposed to find no wrong with.

If you look at Nezu that way, where he views students more as an asset, or an investment, than as, well, students, or as people, then your point takes on a different light. Looking at it with cold logic, the students can contribute to the various conflicts; even if they die, for the greater good of society (which he lives in and benifits from), heroism as a career (which he is in a position to benefit from greatly, as well as influenced greatly), and quite frankly as a living being on Japan/Earth, that cost is more than worth the price if they help support the status quo; its not like there's not going to be more next year, right?

And that's the thing that really interests me; what the hell was Hori thinking when he made Nezu? With Bakugou and Endeavour, for example, you can see where they started off one way, and went another? Nezu though? His entire point as a character seems to be firmly as the 'nice but somewhat manipulative' principal, but it's a waste of his fundamental characteristics. Did he have a different role in the prototype? Because if I was writing Nezu as a character, here's what I'd write him as:

An enemy. Not evil, not a villain, but a obstacle for Izuku to surpass in UA; it's not that he's bigoted, like Aizawa is (or at least to the same extent), he just well and truly doesn't care about people and what they do as long as his bottom line is met. And Izuku isn't there to be a new hero, like Bakugou, about fame and wealth, he doesn't fit. Worse yet, if we're working off of the original, 'Quirkless Hero' framework? Fundamentally, he is a threat to the concept of heroes that is established, that makes people want to think outside the box, and the thing is? Nezu likes the box. He's one of the people who designed it; he'd like everyone to stay in the box, please and thank you.

There's this epic story we're never going to get of Izuku being a little revolutionary, fighting against the heroic establishment to change heroism for the better and for the rights of the Quirkless, and his first major enemies are: Bakugou, the bully, Aizawa, the biased teacher who enables Bakugou and attacks Izuku, and Nezu, who enables all of them, and barely gives a shit about Izuku at all but would absolutely murder him in a heartbeat if he thought he could get away with it, but is resigned to fact he can't just kill people because they mildly irk him.

To your last point, though, fundamentally MHA is exactly a dystopia, by design; it's dystopian nature is one of the main causes for almost all conflicts in the story, from the villains, to the heroes, to Izuku's core personality traits, but for some reason Hori got really scared to admit that so he covered all the bars and locks with confetti... only after he got all the ways he purposefully made it a dystopia looking all harmless and fun, he missed all the ways he accidently made it a dystopia. To this day, I'm still not sure if he designed the heroic pay system, what little of it we know, to be purposefully that fucked up, or he just did some basic work to support what happens in the story and missed how deeply disturbing those implications were.

[shepherds-of-haven]

I’ve been wondering, what would the shepherds be like during a zoom meeting?

I'm coming at this from a modern office AU/work from home perspective, not necessarily if the Shepherds were all in their respective job roles from the game (like if Blade and Riel were running a briefing over Zoom with the captains)

Blade: completely silent, you don't even know he's on the call because his camera is off and he's muted the whole time. he's actually laser-focused on the other side (not doing anything), he just doesn't want to be Perceived unless he's specifically in charge of the meeting

Trouble: absent because he didn't wake up in time to hop on the call 😭 he's still tangled up in his bedsheets, snoring while his phone alarm goes off for like 22 minutes

Tallys: camera on, focused, diligently taking notes or listening to the meeting, although her own input is minimal unless specifically asked! She always shows up looking incredibly sleek, well-dressed, and composed, like sitting there in a turtleneck and blazer while everyone else is like barely out of their pajamas. Makes everyone else looks bad, basically lol

Shery: she puts on her camera because she feels like it would be rude not to, but she also HATES it because she's self-conscious, so she spends a lot of the meeting distracted by the way she looks in the Zoom window and trying to remember how to look like a normal human being, like fidgeting or straightening her hair or trying to smile and nod naturally but it just comes out looking like this: :} Basically all of the info flies over her head because she's not concentrating lol

Riel: I literally don't think you could even get him on a Zoom call lol, like you'd have to pay him so much money to make him think it was worth his time... it's 30-second brisk phone call or in-person meeting or bust for him. If you could somehow convince him to join, he would just be staring into the camera with completely focused yet completely unimpressed eyes... you could also sense his 'I don't want to be here energy' even if he didn't say anything, so everyone would either awkwardly stumble over what they're trying to say or rush to get the call over with ASAP lol

Chase: SO distracted, and so distracTING! he can't sit still for longer than ten minutes, so he's joining in on the call (with camera and mic on, of course) and he could be doing ANYTHING. maybe he's at home and you have to try to get through your notes while watching him spin idly in circles in his chair, balancing a pencil on his nose or getting up and like literally doing pull-ups or crunches or headstands, or maybe he's full-on walking to the coffee shop on a busy street with his headphones in and you have to watch his screen swinging around and his camera pointed up at his chin from below, or he's like DRIVING somewhere and the phone is pointed at him from his dashboard... just totally chaotic but also entertaining lol. Very disruptive for whoever's running the actual meeting, though

Red: he's got his nice, orderly set-up, he has his coffee ready and his standing desk and charged earbuds and maybe a potted plant; he'll happily partake in some small talk before the meeting starts and point out the new wall art he just added to his study or comment on someone else's study. Basically nice and professional, no troubles here!

Ayla: she has her camera off but not her mic muted (it's doubtful she knows how to do it; she doesn't really know how Zoom works and can't be arsed to learn) but she never says anything. However, for some reason, the audio from her phone (she only ever does Zoom from her phone) makes it sound like she's trapped in a hurricane inside of a washing machine somewhere at the top of Mt. Everest. Like it's just BLASTS of this terrible white noise. Is she trekking over the rocky cliffs of Scotland? Where the hell is she and what is she doing?? The higher-ups who aren't as familiar with her are always like "haha it sounds like someone's getting some feedback on their phone, maybe if you guys could try muting...?" and then are increasingly annoyed by all of the noise, but she is either ignoring them, completely unaware that the sound is coming from her, or deliberately doing it to make the call end as soon as possible

Briony: she's participating with her sound and camera on, but she's sort of vibrating with an eager energy that isn't super conducive to Zoom, because every time she jumps in to contribute, she inadvertently talks over someone due to lag, so it's just this constant "I actually--oh sorry, you go--oh, me? Okay, so I--oh, no, sorry, you go." Slowly the life and energy starts to drain out of her so now she just smiles and nods to show that she's listening, but her eyes are slightly glazed while she waits for it to be over

Lavinet: she's there and looking pretty while she sips on her smoothie or frappe from the coffee shop, but, like Shery, she often gets distracted by the camera--but by how good she looks in it, so then she's sort of just lost in thoughts about whether or not this angle or that is her better side, or whether she should just get that haircut with layers she's been thinking about, after all... When she does focus, though, she's usually smart, commanding, and directs the conversation very skillfully!

[absolutedoorknob]

WAKE UP BESTIE THIS IS URGENT

So it’s late at night and I’m scrolling through the simplicity pattern website when, this is not a drill….

I saw House of the Dragon sewing patterns!!

Technically they’re not licensed or anything but if you know anything about sewing patterns for costumes, you know it gets pretty dang obvious.

Ok so it’s a pretty basic shape, and it looks like we’ve got an Alicent and a Rhaenyra dress based off of the styling of the models and the colours of the garments. They are not accurate to one single dress either of these characters wear, but it’s a great start, open to plenty of relatively easy modification (take this opinion with a grain of salt I have never modified a pattern) for creativity and maximum cosplay potential. I wish they’d make a Green Green Dress pattern, but I do know that designers and companies are limited to what pieces they can fit inside an envelope (this is the reason why in View B of Simplicity 1009 there isn’t a separate underskirt).

So let’s do some examination!

Starting with View B because it’s on the left, I said it looks like a Rhaenyra pattern mainly because of the color— young Rhae wears a lot of these dull golds (a desert gold if you will?) and beiges when she’s younger, when she’s not wearing red or her dragon-riding fits.

The neckline on the pattern could be easily adapted to either be higher like on the right or more angular like on the left.

The sleeves, however, are reminiscent of two other gowns, with these pattern pieces being good for both Rhae and Alicent.

I love a good open sleeve, and so do they. Also I swear there was another Alicent one with more open sleeves but google images was not kind to me.

Now on to View A! It’s pretty clear from how the neckline is with the trim plus the belt that this dress is modelled after this blue dress Alicent wears, which may or may not be her mother’s.

Now unfortunately the sleeve patterns do not have this amazing “ladder detail” but that would be pretty early to modify in, as well as to cut the neckline lower to add the top “ladder bit”.

This pattern also has Princess seams, like the other view, because it is a relatively simple way to get a good fit around the bust. Now, if you were making a “100% accurate with paper silk and I get the cops called on me because they think I stole it from HoTD’s wardrobe department” cosplay, these would have to be drafted out, because no dresses in the show have Princess seams, most likely because they are a relatively modern fitting technique and the shows in Westeros have historically influenced/inspired costuming. To get the fancy bodice like Alicent’s dress, the easiest way I could think of would be to trace the pattern piece twice, then chop one tracing up into sections with the sections being drawn on the other tracing (so you have a guide on how your puzzle fits together) and remember to include seam allowance if you do this, otherwise you will regret it.

Now this?? This is Daemon. Do not pass go, do not collect 200 dollars. Because most of the men on the show (or at least Daemon, Hardin when he’s not in armour defending his lady love— i mean Alicent, and Aemond) wear something similar to this, it’s a great bass with plenty to work with. The vest comes with pattern pieces for either no skirting or longer skirting, as seen in View B vs View A. Also, fun fact, the jacket under the vest/jerkin? It’s a crop top.

There’s a joke to be made here but I just can’t think of it.

These are McCalls patterns, and I have had fit issues in the past with them. Before picking out and cutting your size, I strongly recommend double checking the finished garment measurements, which should be printed on the back of the envelope. This will save you a lot of trouble and from having to buy the same pattern twice in case you cut out a size too small… I speak from personal experience.

Many way, that’s all folks! Personally, I can’t wait to see what Simplicity comes out with in the next few months (they release their new Halloween patterns in like September or something, and suffice to say I’m gnawing at my drywall), and I am praying for a Green Green dress pattern!

[ardatli]

Pamela Voorhees sweater

Starting a sweater project for myself - the first time I'm doing a pull-over thing, which gives me zero room to fake the fit by tweaking button placement or wrap depth. (I'm a sewer -- I like being able to adjust things by an 1/8th of an inch after the fact!)

But this one's specific, and I want to have it done for Hallowe'en, so I'm building in lots of frogging and cursing time. We're doing serial killers this year, and I decided to try my hand at Ma Voorhees' blue cable sweater from Friday the 13th.

No one's put up a full start-to-finish pattern for it, but littlegrotesquerie on Reddit made one a couple of years ago and posted a few notes about it, as well as her cable charts. There's a longer writeup here. Bless everything about her, and all credit to her for her insane work.

I'm making the larger of the two sweaters used in the movie, the one with the purl stitches between the verticals, because I need the bust space. I'm also using Amy Miller's 'Gwyneth' sweater pattern for the general structure, swapping out the cable charts.

(Image by littlegrotesquerie)

I'm also going to change the sleeve top style, because I'm heavy-busted and short-waisted and the 80s drop-shoulder makes me look like a potato.

I'm still wavering between using the Gwyneth pattern raglan or just going for a higher set-in sleeve to keep the cables as accurate as possible. I'm knitting bottom-up, so I have time to decide. Lifelines are my friend.

Notes:

Vanna's Choice silver-blue yarn

My bust is 45", aiming for 2" ease. (high bust of 39", underbust 37". sigh.)

Size 6 cable needles for the ribbing, size 7 for the body of the sweater, to give me a 9 stitches / 2" gauge.

Stopped ribbing at 15 rows / 2" instead of 2.5" (see above re: short-waisted).

The front panel so far, after goofing on the cables once:

Frogging count:

1, down to the top of the ribbing.

[trishmishtree]

A list of things I sewed in 2022

Last year I compiled a list of the things I sewed in 2021, except for some reason, I made the list in November so it missed some of the stuff I made at the end of the year, like my reversible apron and the cottagecore/modernized chemise a la reine, among others.

So this year, I figured I’d actually do my year of sewing in review at the actual end of the year. (Btw I have no idea if these are actually in chronological order. This is just the order I found them in on my blog, which is the order in which I photographed them.)

First, a needle holder made from scraps of fabric from old projects, because I was just keeping all my needles in plastic cases and desperately needed a better way to organize them.

Then I made a short underbust c0rset I drafted myself by tweaking the fit issues I had from the previous c0rset I made and self-drafted in 2021. That previous c0rset was based on a dress pattern that I got by tracing one of my dresses that I then used to make the silk satin dress I wore to a friend’s wedding. (Yes, this c0rset was made with the same navy blue silk satin I used for the dress. No, the two projects have nothing to do with each other, as the dress was not made to be worn over a c0rset.) It has a zipper front and laces completely up in the back since it’s not meant for waist reduction. I use it as a back brace for days at work when I’m expecting to spend a lot of time standing.

Then there were the first regency shift, short stays, and partially bodiced petticoat that I made and never got around to using for anything because the silhouette wasn’t right for the 1810-1815 era gown I want to make. I still have them hanging in my closet for when I finally get around to making something from the earlier 1790s-1805 era. The partially bodiced petticoat is absolutely necessary because I made the stays a little too long and they rise above the mid-bust level and make lines. The shift works fine for this set of stays, but it’s just a tad tight in the bust to work with later stays that lift the bustline much higher.

Because the regency short stays weren’t the right shape and height for the 1810s look I was aiming for, I made another set of regency stays after that. This I made and immediately hated because the silhouette was all wrong. I used the Bernhardt pattern but didn’t get the bust and hip gusset shapes right, and I used bias tape for binding, instead of straight grain binding, so the whole top edge stretched out and flattened my bust instead of lifting it. I also found out that the Bernhardt stays pattern just inherently doesn’t work if you have scoliosis at the level of your spine where you take the measurements needed for scaling this pattern. These stays are now in my scrap bag because I harvested the boning and lacing from them for the new and improved pair (discussed below but not pictured, for decency reasons).

After that came the historybounding Victwardian shirtwaist and skirt that I made this summer. The floral skirt is a calf-length full circle skirt with a pleated back and is my absolute favorite skirt in my wardrobe, if only for the sheer amount of work that went into making it. The only issue is that I miscalculated when I was cutting out the waistband, so it ended up about 1 inch too short. It’s still wearable though, and I don’t mind it too much because the slightly tighter waistband means that the weight of the back pleats won’t drag the back of the waistband down. Alas, I don’t wear it all that often because I spend all of my waking hours either in a hospital where I wear scrubs or in a doctor’s office where people cough on stuff. While the skirt is machine washable, it’s a nightmare to iron, and the sateen weave warps with every wash. The blouse I’m much less fond of because it’s too poofy for daily wear, and the lace collar is annoying to deal with because it somehow manages to gape and choke me at the same time.

Then I took apart my purple floral skirt from 2021 and remade it because I have control issues and perfectionism issues and there is a long list of problems I had with the original skirt and wanted to fix:

Because my first attempt at a Victwardian shirtwaist was only minimally successful, I took another attempt at a historybounding blouse, this time with a Peter Pan collar and tucks instead of lace. I did go back and reposition the sleeve gathers after taking this picture. Still not entirely happy with the sleeves because I prefer 3/4 length or elbow length sleeves, so I tend to roll these up when I wear them. Also not entirely happy with the positioning of the collar. I feel like it should be higher up on the neck and sloped, not flat against the collarbone area, so I kind of want to make a set of detachable Peter Pan collars that I can wear with different outfits.

Then in August-September, I made the Capetember cape while working inpatient for a month. I didn’t end up wearing this one as much as I thought I would, mostly because it’s too short to curl up and wrap myself up to lounge in. But it did keep me warm for the like 2 slightly chilly days of autumn we had this year. Next time I’m including arm slits for practicality.

My first attempt at Edwardian/late Victorian combinations took 2 solid weeks.  The combinations themselves didn’t take all that long to assemble or drape on myself, but what sucked up most of that time was the amount of hand embroidering I took upon myself to do because I couldn’t find the right kind of beading lace to go on the waistband and leg cuffs. The combinations are based on the extant from the Met. I think I ended up making the straps too short because it’s not blousing at the waist quite right. The waistband lace is pretty, but it’s too bulky to wear under c0rsets, and I cut the buttonholes too narrow for the ribbon to come through without puckering and folding on itself. The drawers overall are just not full enough and bunch too much in certain places, so if I ever make this again, I’m going to try the Laura Baldt Clothing for Women circular drawers pattern instead. I would also go for a thinner, drapey-er fabric next time.

Then I made another c0rset. This time it’s an Edwardian S-bend c0rset based on the Aranea Black Tulip pattern. It’s made from a heavy cotton canvas with an outer layer of silk shantung. It’s also the first c0rset I’ve made thus far that actually has a metal split busk, which makes getting in and out of it way faster. It still needs some hip padding to fit properly, so that’s going to have to be a project for next year.

The S-bend c0rset doesn’t actually fit without a bust improver, which I made from stash/scrap fabric based on the LACMA extant:

And then I finally circled back to the regency era to make a new set of stays to redeem myself. They’re definitely an improvement on the old pair, but I can’t post pictures because it’s an underbust design, and the historically inaccurate cotton voile shift I’m wearing under them is completely sheer. So you’re just going to have to enjoy this photo of the new fully bodiced petticoat that I also made around that time and am wearing over it for modesty. (You can also barely see how the shift is just ever so slightly compressing my bust down because the new stays lift it into a higher position than the shift has room for.)

And then, since I was in the business of doing everything twice when it comes to regency costuming, I made another regency shift. This one is made from 100% linen (but probably not as sturdy as 19th century linen). It makes for a really comfy nightgown too.

And then, I finally got started on the regency gown project that I keep referencing but never got off my butt to do this year. I managed to embroider and finish the bodice before the end of 2022, so I’m including it on this list even though the gown is still nowhere near finished.  (Using my hand as a censor bar because my new 1810s stays are really good at lifting the bust, and my new shift was being Opinionated today and didn’t want to help contain it.) The final gown will have a front bib panel that’s attached to the apron front skirt and will cover everything that’s currently threatening to spill out of the neckline of my shift.

Not included in photos because I didn’t think they were worth photographing:

a seam roll I made from scraps of the purple floral and black and white chair slipcover fabrics

a set of fabric face masks I made from the last scraps of the same two fabrics. I haven’t worn them all that much, though, since they tend to fog my glasses and I prefer the regular blue masks

a couple of polyester satin half-slips that I made to wear under my skirts so they don’t cling to my tights when I walk

a mousepad I made for a coworker’s birthday

a wine tote and matching coasters I made for another coworker’s birthday

a couple of floral embroidery pieces I made for two other coworkers’ birthdays

an apron I made as a going-away present for a former coworker’s graduation

a fleece blanket I made for my cat

a pocket I sewed into the inside of my whitecoat so I could have my iPad on my person while rounding in the hospital without worrying about accidentally leaving it in a patient room

a newer, bigger, studier tote bag to replace the one I made in 2021 (nothing happened to the old one, I just wanted a bigger bag for work)

an alteration I made to improve the fit of a dress I’ve owned since 2017 that had since shrunk in the wash and was too tight in the shoulder area

an Edwardian dip waist belt I made from the same floral fabric I used for the skirt above

Overall, this looks like a pretty good list for someone who sews exclusively by hand. With 33 projects/items made, and me working 12 weeks of inpatient shifts in the past year, I’m basically averaging about 1 project per week on the weeks that I have the energy for creative pursuits.

Looking back, it seems like about half the things I made this year were 1800s-1810s and 1900s underwear that no one is ever going to see. Hopefully I’ll get around to making actual clothes to go over these pieces in the coming new year.

[magicalmanhattanproject]

To be clear, my post was Not About Couriway. Like I said he was on one of the teams I was hopeful for, and someone that I felt framed their disappointment well. My post was primarily about how it seems like no one who is considered ''good at minecraft'' is ever added added. To me it feels like the balancing is stuck at One skill level when it could be raised to a higher skill level with little issue, just adding more higher skilled players. Not even permanently just for a few events or something.

- amy-bonsai

They added FBM. Like I specifically remember raising an eyebrow because Scott said he had enough S tiers and wanted more lower skill players to balance things out and then added FBM. FBM has only not been top 3 individual in his first canon MCC. His first ever MCC also added Impulse, who is having a good day if he's a top 30 player.

Since then, Scott's added Shadoune, OllieGamerz, CapitanGato, MythicalSausage, Wallibear, DarkEyebrows, OwengeJuice, and Guqqie. That's a pretty healthy spread of skill levels. In fact, I think a lot of people would argue it's weighted too high. given that of the past 10 players added (I'm not counting Etho and Bdubs because they're explicitly one offs btw), 4 of them were expected from the start to be A tier at minimum and I think Ollie is gonna be pretty high up there too. Personally I don't think it's a problem because I think when Scott was talking about having enough S tiers, Quig was still in the rotation and Dream definitely was and now Sapnap and H are both going on break for a little while too, but "MCC needs more high skill players" is not a super popular opinion.

Also adding players for just a few events is Not how Scott operates. Unless it's explicitly a non canon event, you're either In MCC or you're not. FBM getting into the regular rotation after Underdogs pretty much proved that beyond any doubt given how hard it was for Scott to figure out how best to balance him.

And jsut to head off the argument, a non-canon MCC Cracked or something wouldn't work because the experience gap is also an important factor. Like, a whole MCC of busted players going into SOT and RSR without knowing anything about those specific games would be very funny, but it wouldn't be the cracked gameplay we're after.

[lucysweatslove]

My parents sent me some money to spend on new clothing- the idea was my mom would help out buy directly ordering me some “business” clothing, and then I could spend the money sent on whatever would make me feel a little better going into school.

After thinking about it, I realized I am most comfortable in dresses, and the dresses I wore most while at the derm clinic (on Fridays where we would wear whatever we want) actually would work for business casual purposes too. Which makes sense- I got vast majority via Nordstrom/Nordstrom Rack (most were Eliza J or Vince Camuto) The problem is: most are 4-5+ years old at this point, and while they still are holding up great, my body has shifted significantly and they are too small now. While I can zip them up because of stretch material, they flare and bulge and awkward points, and it’s just… an obvious “doesn’t quite fit well” look which to me never looks as professional as just wearing a larger, more appropriate size.

I feel very much “like me” when I wear dresses in general, and I figured I could “feed two birds with one seed” by using the money to buy new dresses that I could get away with wearing in clinic.

Buying new dresses via Nordstrom specific is kind of $$ even for the money my parents gave me, so I decided to look on Nordstrom Rack. Of course options are limited in general because it’s the Rack + because of my current size, plus I’m a little picky about overall silhouettes (cap / short sleeve dolman/ 3/4 sleeve preferred but wide strap tank okay, knee length- a little higher on a model is okay because I’m a shrimp and almost petite height, fit and flare or trapeze or shift but no sheath). But I found some I think will work pretty well!

The basic black one looks decent for well… basic outfits. Then I have three that are some iteration of navy and white or cream (I usually prefer black on me over navy, but a lot of the black ones were out in my size). The two that are kind of cut off (you can see them if you click the pic) are florals- the top does look a little short, but it should be fine on me, and the bottom one is supposedly an A-line cut, idk how well it’ll flow over me, but the pattern brings me joy so 🤷🏻‍♀️. And I’m really excited for the fun colorful dot pattern dress- I think the colors will work really well.

I also checked the Kohl’s website, thinking I had some Kohl’s Cash from when we went in person. The dress selection was abysmal but I saw this cute red dress and got pretty excited since it looked like a cool enough red I could pull it off. I then ALSO thought about how much I liked the two shirts I got in person and wished there were additional colors in my size (I got a black and a white)… and how I grabbed that pair of blank pants I couldn’t wear bc they were too small despite the blue one, which fit me very well, being the same size. So I figured that since I’m spending money anyways, and my old “nicer” shirts pull at the bust now too, getting a few shirts that I can dress up to business casual or down makes sense. And having a pair of black “work pants” opens up more options for me too. I know my mom is getting me some pants too but I’m pretty sure they will be long bootcut which… I guess I just prefer how I feel and look in cropped pants. I feel pretty swamped and frumpy in longer pants as I’m riding that sweet spot between petite and non-petite.

The pink shirt and the black and white floral are the shirt I know I like (cut and fabric). The link may be a little harsh on my skin tone (I consider myself more of a dark winter than a true winter) but paired appropriately it can look really nicer The white one is the same brand and I figured I can’t really go wrong having another white shirt with a slightly different cut- I could probably use it untucked which I prefer / feel more comfortable in anyway. The green shirt was just because I love rich deep emerald greens. It’s a different brand from the others, but it’s cut very similar to the shirt I know I like, looks like it’ll be a similar fabric.

Overall a successful online shopping trip, but we will see when the clothes come if they fit.

I may still look on sites like ThredUp or similar too. I’ve definitely spent the money my parents transferred to me, but if I can find more of the dresses I like in more fun patterns or colors, for like $20-30, it might be worth the investment.

My mom is right that a new wardrobe can help set the feel - which means for me, having more clothes that FEEL like me but also still feel elevated can do me a lot of good.

[ivansergeyevichturgenev]

Do you have any advice on becoming a bartender? What kind of venues would you recommend? I'm a server currently, I heard dive bars are better for bartenders but I think larger resturaunts get higher tips

honestly it depends on what you want to deal with. i make about the same if not more than the bartenders i knew at the corporate sports bar i worked at and my shifts are much shorter and i deal with maybe a tenth of the bullshit so it's much better overall and a lot more money hourly. plus i get treated way better by the company, my coworkers, and the guests. i don't deal with drunk belligerent people ever. i do not have to clean up vomit. i do not have to worry about whether this single person trying to drink at the bar is the weekly abc agent trying to bust us (obvi i still card but they aren't trying to get us in trouble every single week bc we have a good track record). also i get paid a higher base rate in addition to the bar top tips and servers tip out 2.5% of their total sales to the bar. for context at the corporate sports bar servers and bartenders were paid the same $2.13/hr and servers tipped out 1% of bar sales only. it really really depends on the restaurant and the people running it

i will say that ime it is difficult to get hired as a bartender at a new spot without serving first and typically that's because you need to be trustworthy when you're handling alcohol and at a lot of places the bartender is either a shift supervisor or has like more permissions/responsibilities. i'm not in charge when i'm behind bar but i do have the ability to edit other servers checks and like edit the pos to 86 shit. oh and usually you have a cash register. i actually didn't want to get trained behind bar (i did a few years ago) when i was asked to but said yes bc the need appeared and i wanted to work more with my friend 🫣

figure out what type of restaurant you want to work at and learn cocktail specs based off of that. i work at a somewhat upscale restaurant but that still isn't fine dining. like i could not tell you what is in an adios motherfucker because that's not the drinks i make. we don't have blue curaçao at my restaurant lol. similarly i never once sold a martini when i worked at sports bar. i make mostly our speciality cocktails which i would say are like elevated classics. we make most of our cocktail ingredients in house (grenadine, cordials, etc) and we infuse spirits with fruit or herbs not infrequently. i can't really speak for working at a dive bar because i've only ever been as a patron and not behind bar. i could see myself enjoying event bartending...if that interests you maybe apply to a catering company. typically people get paid a specific base pay based on role and then there's a big tip pool from the event gratuity.

i will say it is 100% true that people are more generous with the bartender than they are their server tip percentage wise but also i tend to have less people eating three courses at the bar bc while you can do that plenty of people just want to get a drink and hang

hope this helps sorry for the wall but i could talk about this literally forever

[nightmarefuele]

💚- A memory that makes them feel guilty {{His Highness}}

Guilt?

❝Me?❞ Looking over one shoulder and then the other. Pretending there's a whole mob of goons there at his behest — woe, save your Clown Prince from the horrors of a bleak question !

(Nobody there.)

❝Well. I suh-pose. . . .❞ Looking, now, vaguely despondent; a sigh even goes so far as to tickle the dry bar breeze, if only to pep-up the stale premises. Here's where the real theatrics poke their dead heads. ❝Mayyy-be . . . there wAs this one time. An ice cream truck. . . . One'a those sing-song street-stops, and this one, well, she happened to frequent the neighborhood of my schoolboy days.❞

There's this redhead kid — well, he's a giant over little Joker, a ❛senior superior❜ in all so-ci-etal ❛sense.❜ So Ginger's got that chip on his shoulder he thinks is really just extra muscle, extra bite. Bite like the neighborhood dogs he hits, kicks, slams (big, small, mutts and all) 'cause he fancies himself this scary character. Maybe to pooches and wildlife he is. When he shuffles out half-toppled swirly cones, these real slushy affairs, he gives 'em with ugly side-grins (which work, somehow) at all the pretties and twice-ugly scowls at the littles; the pre-highs, the six years, the sevens, the eights. Behind their backs he calls the eights ❛reverse rates.❜

Ha-ha. (haha..heh.)

So when the little joke shows his face its all funnies and hoo-has (and not even wearing the makeup), the dustbunny of a senior football player with his jammies up in a twist over some-thing the Joker said, because apparently it's a crime to lay it out straight with a person and tell him his mommy's got lousy tongue work. ❛Man-to-man❜ or so they say, 'cause the next time Ginger comes a-rolling out in his diesel-powered milker it's Joker's house in his sights. He shimmies right out of that skinny door and keeps on going 'til he gets up to the . . .

❝. . . you know, house. Address. Place of re-si-dence. Where?❞ The top half of the clown's face inclines all that much higher. Forehead ghost-sheet white as ever — in fact it appears miles fresher than before. Coming from within, the red-and-black flairs glow. No room to picture a king; The Joker's got his spot.

Tricked out in that fine purple coat, good as signature, he looks royal as any of those British mugs.

So, ❝Not important,❞ naturally. Good as law, clown's word goes. ❝Who knows-ah, what kinda mail's been stuffin' up the box. Oh!, hmm,❞ animal's low growling, shark with painted teeth, ❝on thaat note. . . .❞

. . . where little Joker wasn't. See, he might go off to join the proverbial circus, but he was no jester and certainly not for prima-jock courts. By then he was already out with Gingerbread's ❛Nancy,❜ his sweet-sss, his ❛sugar.❜ And did I say our good boy's without his facepaint? I lie-d. 'Cause Nancy says she likes it, likes it a whole lot — and she's all too young for that Big Red anyway, so she doesn't mind (and he doesn't mind, the little joke) walking out on him, good and gone.

So that's when it happens, somehow; because nobody's home, little boy Joker's momma not around, and his father, well. . . . And so Ginger just busts on through, but he's forgotten not all dogs are little, and not all big dogs are mutts and poodles. This one'sa rottwei-ler, a whole tank for a breed, and plenty canon in that slavering maw.

(Did I mention the little joke for-got to feed him his evening chew?)

❝. . . Ended up replacing the poor fish. That ice cream scoop received a-uhh, a postal recommendation. I always did wonder if that's how it feeells — watching that sweet stuff melt.❞

He's looking over at her now, at Beth, and does she know what he's talking about? Unclear, of course, to which he refers: the fee-ling, strictly speaking, or the froyo itself. (Doesn't froyo deserve our empathy?)

A hum pinches at corner-mouth where scar serrates the divide between skin and slick. Pinches. Guilt-yy. Pinchy, gooey . . . thing. Lukewarm jello. Sorta . . . unsettled. Left out.

❝But you, here . . .❞ Makes a little clicking, tongue-and-teeth. King's coat a little less vivid now — darker colors, his curiosity. ❝You got something on yer mind-ah.❞