#also i wish i was joking but when i say every person i have ever met who dislikes him has turned out to be a weapons-grade shithead

[realest-nilou-kinnie]

every single time i'm reading anything about him, fan fiction or not, and someone describes him as lazy, i can't help but blurt out loud to myself, "he's not lazy" and sort of roll my eyes. It's in his character bio in the game for crying out loud: he doesn't see the point in trying anymore because every time he has ever tried in his life, he has been shot down and shown that nothing he does will ever matter.

self-indulgent elaboration under the cut

also, i would argue that it's about as clear as can be that he is "rude" on purpose to push people away...because he knows he was born in a silver spoon in his mouth and thinks he doesn't deserve people being nice to him. of COURSE he is snarky and snappy when he gets the chance, he WANTS people to stay away from him. He does NOT, however, want them to talk behind his back, i dont think. We know it hurts him. He doesn't want them to whisper that he's dangerous and he could probably kill everyone within a 50 foot radius with his UM at a moment's notice. Which is true. I think he's afraid of that possibility (and I believe in the novel it's described as being a volatile spell that other second princes have been effectively cursed with, and that he could accidentally kill people around him. That's why he grew up overhearing the palace servants whispering about the spell as if it was already a known UM.)

I know we don't know how he got his scar yet, other than it being something he clearly doesn't want to remember, but I can't help but wonder how he first "got" his UM. It isn't one he developed like Azul did, for example. He was born with that being the UM he would one day manifest. I definitely have ideas about how he got his scar and how it could relate to the advent of a Unique Magic like his, but I DO NOT think he killed or seriously hurt someone. I think the King's Roar spell has been popping up in previous generations of the Sunset Savanah royal family in second-born sons, and the people know it can lay waste to everything around the user. Even the things the user didn't touch or mean to affect start to turn to sand, like the air. Idk i just think his magic hasn't killed someone but I think he and everyone around him knows it could. From past experience, if you will. So maybe he showed signs of it being his UM and people FREAKED out as if he killed someone. That can be really damaging for a kid.

With this in mind, how could it be any clearer that he is trying to push people away? Now, allow me to be a blatant Leona Kisser on main (joke intended, that's my sideblog @leona-kingscholar-kisser LOL), but....HE'S NOT EVEN DOING THAT GOOD OF A JOB OF PUSHING PEOPLE AWAY. BECAUSE HE ISN'T A NATURAL AT IT!!!!! 😭😭😭😭 I'm not saying he craves connection, yet, because i haven't seen his part in book 7, but he definitely is not just meanspirited. He doesn't enjoy pushing people away, he feels that he has no choice in order to not hurt others. Isn't that the most selfless thing of all?

Knowing how he was treated as a child during his formative years, I'd say every glimpse of kindness and generosity and selflessness and passion for life he shows is indicative of someone who is all of those things even more so than it would be for someone who had no adverse childhood experiences. To me, the fact that he is all these things even in the face of the agony he must feel looking in the mirror every day means he is an even better person than someone who only does the right thing to earn praise and be celebrated. Character is doing the right thing even when no one is watching and all that.

I literally could write 50 paragraphs about him with MLA citations, but here is what i mainly wished to impress upon the part of twstblr whom i think are a wee bit confused about his characterization:

examples of Leona not being a massive sack of shit:

he pretends not to notice when Ruggie steals jewelry from him just about daily, but he doesn't outright give it to him because that would be too philanthropic for his image. He lets Ruggie think he's getting away with it. He doesn't want a "thank you" because he thinks he doesn't deserve it

he lets Ruggie bring his own laundry to be washed together with Leona's, while giving him his credit card to buy the nicest detergent and anything else he might want to buy at the Mystery Shop

the reason he doesn't wear his uniform jacket isn't because he just wants to break the dress code or make a statement, it's probably because he gave it to Ruggie. Hence why Ruggie's jacket is massive on him.

he skips his classes because he already knows everything they're teaching. he always shows up for tests, meaning he does keep track of when they are.

- personal note: he had all the NRC-level material drilled into him from a younger age than most as a prince. That level of focus on academics takes away time in your youth that you feel like your peers are spending having fun and having social lives. If i were him, going to classes where everyone around him got to learn something for the first time that he had been forced to memorize years ago would be really hard. It might be a reminder of how he had to grow up too soon. I personally relate a lot to being faced with the reality that every other student in your class didn't have the same amount of academic pressure put on them that you did and wanting to just curl up and cry at your desk. Being in classes where you already know everything or where other kids clearly have a lot less pressure on them can make you feel even more alone and hopeless and unloved than you already felt. it makes you grieve all the weeks and years of feeling like a workhorse instead of a child that you'll never get back. So i guess in that way I'm biased towards him and I completely support him skipping class :'3

he only got held back because of missed attendance. here are two important notes about that, in my opinion:

- firstly, he obviously doesn't want to go home. he also feels unenthusiastic about the 4th year internships even though he's going to take one in his home country and hopes to make some positive changes using his ideas. Still, he knows it will not come with the recognition and appreciation from his family he wants. Even if his ideas for oil mining fracking 🤮 bring great economic growth and can feed the children starving like Ruggie was, I doubt his older brother would see Leona for what he is or praise him as things stand now. hopefully that will come later in the story

- secondly, he wants to be held back and stay at NRC another year so his dorm can win the Spelldrive tournament against Diasomnia. He literally says that's the reason he is so desperate to for HIS TEAM (not him) to win that he puts himself in the position to be the bad guy and make the hard decisions he thinks he has to in Book 2! With the actual Spelldrive team, it's slightly different because Malleus isn't involved. It's interesting. In his Spelldrive Uniform home screen dialogues, he says winning is more important than doing your best... because he thinks his team wouldn't be happy with coming in second even knowing they did their best. I think he is blinded by self-hatred. I don't think what he seems to think is actually true. I think Epel and Jack and Ace and all the Savanaclaw members who bawled their eyes out when they thought he was turned into a Tsum are just happy to receive guidance from him. That makes him different from Azul or Kalim or Idia as housewardens, for example. They literally cry lollll. He knows all his Spelldrive players and they literally never shut the fuck up about how good of a coach he is and how attentive he is to their strengths and weaknesses. He doesn't even try to change them! He doesn't insult or belittle Epel when he wants to train to aim better, he literally just compliments how he is a great player in other ways and tells him not to change a thing. For no reason, bitch. He's such a fucking softie.

he buys us a drink in one of his chats, saying he "knows how to reward good service 😒". oh come on bro you're not fooling anyone, you probably weren't even thirsty anyway

he only went to Playful Land to keep an eye on the underclassmen because he's always like that. smfh

finally, if you pay close attention, he's really only rude to people who disrespect him first. OR to people who try to drag him into annoying shenanigans he doesn't want to be involved with. if someone did all that to me during a depressive episode i'd bite their head off, too -- which is every day because i have major clinical treatment-resistant depression and i feel like i know how he feels. i get where he's coming from :( and then they all STILL call him lazy. that is so fucking mean and hurtful. he is doing what he can. he's just sick. he is enough.

okay that's all i can think of right now i just really wanted to elaborate because AHHHHHHH. AAUUGHHHHH. EEEEEUEUUUUUUUUUUAUAG HE IS NOT LAZY AND HES NOT A DICK HE JUST HATES HIMSELF AND NONE OF IT IS HIS FAULT

and while i'm on the subject, Leona is actually NOT lazy or arrogant or selfish at all but some of yall are not ready for that conversation lol

[vaguely-concerned]

I've written 5000 words of lucanis and rye fic the last two days and the only reason the wip isn't even longer yet is probably that my brain turns into useless ash and blows away for the day once it's channeled the lightning bolt of writing energy for a couple of hours and needs to sleep before it can stand up to another onslaught.

[tera-starstorm]

it is so endlessly funny to me how every person who dislikes hop is like "grr hes annoying i skipped his dialogue grrrrrr i hate fun and happiness" and they always gotta tell you they hate him when you say you like him and then every person ive met who likes him is like "he changed my life and who i am as a person for the better long live hop pokemon"

[lieutenantselnia]

Internet archive I love you❤️❤️❤️

[sonknuxadow]

It's wild seeing how much disdain people have for Ian Flynn like my only beef with him is that he doesn't like dark sonic other than that he's okie 👍 yet some people are reaaaaaaaally reaching saying how he tarnished this series like that was a different Archie writer not Flynn lol

i dont care if people like ian flynn or not, or if they like the comics or not, i can think of some parts of both archie and idw that i dont really like, some of which ian flynn was responsible for. and also my opinions and taste in media are not universal. so people disliking idw sonic or ian flynns writing and criticizing it is fine. my problem is when people who clearly hate the comic and arent even having fun hatereading it just keep reading it and never shut up about it and find the tiniest things to get unreasonably mad over (like the art style being too cute or amy being strong or funny expressions being used or song lyric references in the dialogue. yes those are actual examples), flood the idw sonic tags with these kinds of posts, act like anyone who likes idw sonic and is tired of hearing from these types of people just has bad taste and cant handle hearing other peoples opinions (if anything the kinds of people im complaining about are the ones who cant handle hearing other peoples opinions), or they criticize the writers and artists in a way thats genuinely hateful like the person saying they hope ian flynn dies or whatever. like please just calm down and read something else

[esotericbird]

im startin to think i might actually kill myself

[iceunhie]

voicelines about you: as their lover ! (part 2)

featuring: sunday, aventurine, blade (+ black swan, acheron) [ part 1: dan heng, jing yuan, gepard, kafka, jingliu. ]

notes: well. the long awaited part 2 is here! (i took absolutely wayyy too long to finish this but a lovely anon requested the penacony cast so i just waited until now haha) stay tuned for either a future aventurine fic or a sunday fic tho; reblogs are appreciated! main masterlist.

Sunday

About [Name]: Ah, you speak of my beloved. [Name] has managed to strike your interest as well? Heh, I'm joking. You aren't that type of person, no? ….But yes, my lover truly is quite stellar, if not incomparable. I doubt I'd find anyone in the universe as lovely as I do them.

About [Name]: Smitten Robin often jokes about how my eyes change whenever I see them. ‘Softens like the smitten man you are,’ she says. Well, my sister is hardly wrong about matters of the heart, and to be fair, her words are indeed correct. While I cannot be with them every second of the day, despite my only wish to do so…. I suppose this much is fine. At the very least, this bewitched version of myself shall ward any that dare take [Name] away from me.

About [Name]: Preparation. …My mansion has everything [Name] shall ever desire. As for I, what I only desire is them alone, and for them to be right by my side. When the time is right, what's mine shall also be theirs, and none shall ever separate the two of us again. Should anyone attempt it, well, there's a reason my mansion is built the way it is.

Aventurine

About [Name]: [Name], [Name], [Name].... I see that you too have an eye for priceless treasures. Unfortunately for you, this particular one is already mine to behold. Mm, I wonder how my lover must be faring right now…. Missing them is truly, horribly debilitating.

About [Name]: Unworthy Whenever I think of [Name] being with me, of all people… Sometimes, the thought is unbearable. To think they would care for someone like me…. How truly lucky I am. Or maybe it's the other way around? Hehe, take a guess.

About Topaz: Contradictory Topaz and [Name] get along fairly well, despite her rather obvious dislike for me. Nonetheless, I suppose I can understand why. My lover is irresistibly charming~ Now, does this make me jealous, I wonder…. How about we bet on that?

Blade

About [Name]: Though this sword may be battered and broken, if you harbor any intention of harm towards them, I will not hesitate to brandish this blade.

About [Name]: Mara Infliction When afflicted with mara, the senses are ravaged ceaselessly, muddying the mind—being unable to distinguish ally from foe. This is my path. And yet their face is clear, pure amidst the carnage, alleviating the haze for but a moment. My mind may be overridden with hatred, but I will never forget that feeling of salvation.

(BONUS: Kafka’s Voiceline about [Name] !) About [Name]: Truly A Shame Bladie’s little darling, hm? Definitely a wonder, that one, taming him so easily. Those two are definitely an interesting case, that's for sure. Scary, marastruck Blade and them…. truly a shame. Even I know just how the ending of that particular script will end.

Acheron

About [Name]: …They are my lover, yes. Hm? Tell you more about them? Heh, I think you'd have better luck asking [Name] instead of me. I probably wouldn't even know where to begin.

About [Name]: Keeping Memories Despite the fact of my memories being in less than the best condition, [Name] always tells me about all the exciting things they've come across, whether it be delicious food from various planets, or even the most mundane things like the sound of the rushing water, the sight of fireflies in the night. They truly make everything worth remembering.

(BONUS: Black Swan’s Voiceline about [Name] !) About [Name]: Eye Of The Storm Ah, you speak of that Galaxy Ranger's companion…. The abyss that is her consciousness seems to only become calm in the face of them, akin to the eye of the storm. A shining light in the middle of nothingness—that is something that even she cannot let go of. No wonder Miss Acheron is quite taken with them.

Black Swan

About [Name]: The memories of Memokeepers are sorted into various categories by their importance. As my lover, my memories of them hold the greatest value of all. Such memories…. even if the Remembrance wishes for me to hand them over, I doubt I will ever allow it.

About [Name]: Dancing My proficiency in the act of dancing is all thanks to my continued practice with [Name] on our shared time together. Fufu, ‘dates,’ if you will. Every moment I spend in their arms, swaying to the beat of the music at every turn… those are the memories I wish to forever retain.

About Acheron: Indebted One time, Miss Acheron managed to get lost in the middle of the Reverie Hotel’s halls... as usual. [Name] came across her then, and proceeded to have a lovely chat with her. I owe her a debt for keeping my lover company as I was preoccupied with some matters the Garden of Recollection entrusted to me to relay to the family. Next time, perhaps I should invite her over for some dinner with [Name]....

end notes thanks for sticking around the part 2 (for the ogs who read pt 1) and do look forward to more HSR content in the future! also did i say i love aventurine

© 𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐇𝐈𝐄 : do not repost, copy, or plagiarize my work.

[jonnywaistcoat]

What’s your opinion on the contrast between “silly” and “serious” spaces? Do you think people can have very serious interpretations about a genuine piece of media and also be goofy about it? I’m asking this particularly because I’ve seen people in the Magnus podcast fandoms fight about people “misinterpreting” characters you, Alex, and the many other authors have written. Are you okay with the blorbofication or do you really wish the media you’ve written would be “taken seriously” 100% of the time?

And follow up question, what do you think about the whole “it’s up to the reader (or in some cases, listener) to make their own conclusions and interpretations and that does not make them wrong”, versus the “it was written this way because the author intended it this way, and we should respect that” argument?

This is a question I've given a lot of thought over the years, to the point where I don't know how much I can respond without it becoming a literal essay. But I'll try.

My main principle for this stuff boils roughly down to: "The only incorrect way to respond to art is to try and police the responses of others." Art is an intensely subjective, personal thing, and I think a lot of online spaces that engage with media are somewhat antithetical to what is, to me, a key part of it, which is sitting alone with your response to a story, a character, a scene or an image and allowing yourself to explore it's effect on you. To feel your feelings and think about them in relation to the text.

Now, this is not to say that jokes and goofiness about a piece of art aren't fucking great. I love to watch The Thing and drink in the vibes or arctic desolation and paranoia, or think about the picture it paints of masculinity as a sublimely lonely thing where the most terrible threat is that of an imposed, alien intimacy. And that actually makes me laugh even more the jokey shitpost "Do you think the guys in The Thing ever explored each other's bodies? Yeah but watch out". Silly and serious don't have to be in opposition, and I often find the best jokes about a piece of media come from those who have really engaged with it.

And in terms of interpreting characters? Interpreting and responding to fictional characters is one of the key functions of stories. They're not real people, there is no objective truth to who they are or what they do or why they do it. They are artificial constructs and the life they are given is given by you, the reader/listener/viewer, etc. Your interpetation of them can't be wrong, because your interpretation of them is all that there is, they have no existence outside of that.

And obviously your interpretation will be different to other people's, because your brain, your life, your associations - the building blocks from which the voices you hear on a podcast become realised people in your mind - are entirely your own. Thus you cannot say anyone else's is wrong. You can say "That's not how it came across to me" or "I have a very different reading of that character", but that's it. I suppose if someone is fundamentally missing something (like saying "x character would never use violence" when x character strangles a man to death in chapter 4) you could say "I think that's a significant misreading of the text", but that's only to be reserved for if you have the evidence to back it up and are feeling really savage.

I think this is one of the things that saddens me a bit about some aspects of fandom culture - it has a tendency to police or standardise responses or interpretations, turning them from personal experiences to be explored into public takes to be argued over. It also has the occasional moralistic strain, and if there's one thing I wish I could carve in stone on every fan space it's that Your Responses to a Piece of Art Carry No Intrinsic Moral Weight.

As for authorial intention, that's a simpler one: who gives a shit? Even the author doesn't know their own intentions half the time. There is intentionality there, of course, but often it's a chaotic and shifting mix of theme and story and character which rarely sticks in the mind in the exact form it had during writing. If you ask me what my intention was in a scene from five years ago, I'll give you an answer, but it will be my own current interpretation of a half-remembered thing, altered and warped by my own changing relationship to the work and five years of consideration and change within myself. Or I might not remember at all and just have a guess. And I'm a best case scenario because I'm still alive. Thinking about a writers possible or stated intentions is interesting and can often lead to some compelling discussion or examination, but to try and hold it up as any sort of "truth" is, to my mind, deeply misguided.

Authorial statements can provide interesting context to a work, or suggest possible readings, but they have no actual transformative effect on the text. If an author says of a book that they always imagined y character being black, despite it never being mentioned in the text, that's interesting - what happens if we read that character as black? How does it change our responses to the that character actions and position? How does it affect the wider themes and story? It doesn't, however, actually make y character black because in the text itself their race remains nonspecific. The author lost the ability to make that change the moment it was published. It's not solely theirs anymore.

So yeah, that was a fuckin essay. In conclusion, serious and silly are both good, but serious does not mean yelling at other people about "misinterpretations", it means sitting with your personal explorations of a piece of art. All interpretations are valid unless they've legitimately missed a major part of the text (and even then they're still valid interpretations of whatever incomplete or odd version of the text exists inside that person's brain). Authorial intent is interesting to think about but ultimately unknowable, untrustworthy and certainly not a source of truth. Phew.

Oh, and blorbofication is fine, though it does to my mind sometimes pair with a certain shallowness to one's exploration of the work in question.

[bkgexe]

if all else fails, i was myself

bakugou x reader ✾ 4.6k

info! no smut sorry gang ✾ tw! trust issues that manifest as issues w physical intimacy/contact, dubcon in its vaguest definition (NOT bkg & reader) ✾ notes! ive been in perpetual writers block for months. is this trite idk. i miss my baby but anytime i write for him im like oops this is gonna be 60k words!!! so here is. a drabble lmao. also big lmao moment this is titled after count me out by kendrick lamar ldskfjdlkjf which was on repeat while writing so uh sorry mr. lamar abt the mha fanfic

katsuki has always known that part of him is wrong.

he’s never liked being touched. every kiss he’s experienced has made him tense as an elevator cable poised to snap. any attempt to go further than that has made him a little ill, made his gut feel like a stack of loose papers being torn to shreds, slow and loud.

it doesn’t help that he’s only ever had three kisses in his life: eijirou at a new year’s party (too many teeth), eijirou again at another new year’s party nearly a decade later (too much tongue), and then his fourth date with kyoka (when he tried to convince himself he just had to push through the discomfort to become normal).

things went further than that. it was a mistake. they both knew it right after it happened—kyoka first, and then katsuki after his head stopped pounding with what if i'm doing this wrong what if she's pitying me for fucking this up what if i don't know how to touch another person correctly what if i was supposed to learn at some point and i missed it how could i fucking miss it will it always be like this because i can't do this again i can't i don't—

“kat," she said after. she looked at him with something only a few degrees removed from pity, and poorly removed at that.

he attempted a halting non-apology. he attempted a real apology. failed at both.

"it's okay, you know," she said. "to not like it."

he scoffed even though he wasn’t entirely clear on what she meant by it, because there was so much he didn’t like. “i like it just fine.”

“if that was liking it, I’m honestly worried about your capacity for enjoying life in general.” it wasn’t a joke. her bluntness was something that'd made katsuki think he could push his boundaries with her. all of her thoughts were laid out plain for him to read, an open-source journal. “i'm just saying you don't have to like it. and you don’t have to force yourself to do things you don’t want to do. don't fuck yourself over for someone else's happiness.”

kyoka still texts him often, checks in, invites him to drinks with their friends. she’s kind. she’s normal. she doesn’t have this weird, shredded thing inside her that makes her balk at the idea of someone’s hand on her skin. that makes her think she's doing something wrong, even if she's not the one that initiated the touch.

when you started your job at the front desk of katsuki’s agency, he never thought that he'd be here, wishing above everything that he could just be normal. just for one fucking day, so he could laugh at your shitty jokes and maybe brush his knuckles across the back of your hand in passing and take you on a date where he could kiss you in his car after driving you home and the thought wouldn’t make his skin crawl, wouldn't tear up his insides to pulp.

because he fucked everything up. he's standing in his empty office where you'd been spending time with him and he fucked it up and hurt you and he's not sure how to unfuck it.

the thing is, he could grin and bear it. he could deal with the odd thing inside him that hates the contact and white-knuckle it through every kiss, every caress. but he’s never been a great actor. he wouldn’t be able to hide that from you.

(kyoka told him, years later, that it’s not that the sex itself wasn’t fine—what made it nearly unbearable for her was the fact that she could tell, only after it was too late, that being physically vulnerable with her pained him far more than he was willing to reveal.)

no one wants to feel like the person they’re with is grinning and bearing it. that they’re white-knuckling it through. katsuki knows this. he knows he’s basically a fucking virgin all but in title at thirty and that he’s got the personality of a dried-out fig you find in your fridge weeks after its last edible moments. he doesn't have much to offer.

but he walked into work one day and nodded at you, curt, a grimace on his face—and you smiled at him so kindly that his stomach twisted.

with you, it wasn't the feeling of something being torn apart. it was different, lighter. leaves wrenched into the sky by a strong breeze. still a kind of tearing, but different—less destructive.

he was wearing a deep carmine sweater his mom sent him in one of her bi-monthly care packages (as if he’s not an adult, and a pro-hero on top of that), and you said, “that’s such a nice color on you. is it new?”

there was that breeze inside his chest, strong, pulling at his bones. “yeah,” he grunted. then slowly, as if remembering how: “thanks.”

it was the attention, he thought at first, that piqued his interest. he wasn't used to it. people always watched him from afar, and he had fans online that were borderline obsessive, but people didn’t approach him. they didn’t say that’s such a nice color on you. they didn’t smile the way you smile.

he’s always had a shallow streak. it’s not like he doesn’t know this. it’s become a little muted over time, a little discouraged by the visible scarring on his face and body from his time in the field, but it’s never fully been eradicated. so it was simple, he thought. you paid him attention and stroked his ego, and he preened like a self-obsessed bird of paradise.

and then you started making these little origami whale sharks.

fucking stupid. it bothered him an annoying amount. you had a bunch at your desk, all different colors and sizes, some taped to your desktop monitor, some hung up with little pieces of string under the desk's storage overhang. you drew dots on the back of each one, a distinct spotted pattern that was unique for each shark. and you made them for everyone but him. eijirou bought you a pack of high quality origami paper and you made him his own fucking school, all with little faces, winking or surprised or angry, their wide paper mouths gaping and empty, the lines of their bodies pressed careful and sure.

he hated it. it was annoying and a waste of company time and he usually didn’t ever use dumb corporate slogans like “a waste of company time” but you were really pushing his fucking limits.

it was definitely just the attention he liked, he told himself, because surely someone doing something as dumb as this would annoy him to no fucking end if he spoke to them.

and then he spoke to you and he was wrong.

he asked why you made the damn things in the first place and you told him, “i like whale sharks. but to be totally honest, i just run out of things to do."

and he saw that as a challenge. you were running out of things to do? rest assured he could find more shit for you to take care of. so he did. tasks that he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy, they were so dull and time-consuming. and you were so achingly competent that it drove him up a fucking wall. you completed everything he asked of you in half the time it would take someone else, and you always reported back with a smile, and you always did good work, and he could see himself having a conversation with you about something other than work but he didn't want to try because he was worried he'd begin to like you as a person.

you're pretty. really fucking pretty. he can see that now, and he sure as fuck saw it then. you're hardworking. you're just likeable, and that's something katsuki had never been. it (reluctantly) impressed him. worse than that, it turned his feelings for you into a sort of interest.

but he knows he's not normal when it comes to things like this.

he tried to distance himself from you because of it, but it turns out that asking someone to do work for you means you do have to speak to them sometimes. and sometimes turned into a lot of times.

sometimes turned into bringing him coffee in the morning, not because he asked you to, but because you're sweet like that. sometimes turned into being the person he bounced ideas off of when he had a board meeting coming up or something otherwise boring and meticulous. sometimes turned into you laughing at his prickly comments rather than going quiet because of them. turned into you saying suck it up, dynamight, this is what it means to be the boss when he complained about doing paperwork.

sometimes turned into staying late with him at the office, getting take out for the two of you to share while you finished filing claims and damage reports and other stuff he hated taking care of by himself. sometimes turned into him asking you to stay late just because he wanted you there. because even when he was quiet, you'd tell him about your day, about things that happened in the office, about how much you like the book you'd both been reading. he loved listening to you talk. felt comfortable enough to tell you things about himself when he'd never felt comfortable doing that before.

sometimes turned into you holding out a piece of fried tofu from your take-out container for him to eat while he was approving time-off forms that he should have looked at much earlier that week, and you being so close that he could notice how good you smelled, and the warmth of your body basically radiated towards him, like all your energy was focused on him, and your smile was small but somehow even more lovely than usual, a secret for him to tuck away and keep, and when you finished feeding him and he had a little sauce on the corner of his mouth and you reached forward to wipe it off for him and your hand lingered there for a moment and your eyes fell to his lips and what if you try to kiss me and i'm wrong and you hate me for it and what if i can't give you what you want and what if i'm not actually what you want what if i've disappointed you already what if—

it was too much.

so he fucked it up. your thumb was so soft against his skin. he reeled backwards in his chair, rolling it whole feet clear of you, and he felt the tearing again, the bad kind, like paper unevenly shredded by clumsy hands, and he had to leave. he had to leave. he needed to leave so badly that it felt like pulling his skin off would be preferable to being in that office with you.

hiding in the bathroom was fucking pitiful. he remembered his breathing exercises. he remembered to ground himself. and when he came back to his office, you were gone.

if he was normal—and he wants to be normal, god fucking damn—he could have stomached your proximity. he could have eaten out of your fucking hand. he could have touched you back like a normal person probably would have and he wouldn't be here, alone, looking at a little purple sticky note you left him that says i finished organizing the pto forms. i hope you feel better!

he doesn't know whose pride you're trying to save with that. as if you didn't leave because he made things so fucking awkward by running away from you when you touched him. when you—maybe, if he was reading the room correctly—were about to kiss him.

and you don't speak to him for days. he doesn't want to push so he doesn't—just watches you out of the corner of his eye whenever you're both in the same room, which is arguably worse. he's not sure. he's just itching to fucking talk to you because he misses it.

he misses you. in a more-than-friends way.

it takes a while for him to realize this. when he does, it hits him like a metal rod up the side of the head. it's fucked up of him to miss you the way he does when he doesn't feel like he can provide you with the things a normal person could. and though he's worked on his patience over the years—worked on understanding that he can't have everything he wants—it doesn't stop him from being selfish and finally pulling you aside to talk.

and baffling as fucking ever, the first thing you say is sorry. "i know i should've talked to you about it earlier. i just—i shouldn't have done that. and i know it. i shouldn't have assumed that—i don't know. that you..."

you look helpless. it's one of the very few times that katsuki has ever felt the compulsion to touch someone. not because he wants the touch, per se, but because he wants to be able to provide comfort. he never figured out how to do that with words. he's so focused on his inability to comfort you that he barely has any idea of what you're actually talking about. instead of doing anything at all, he just stands there like a fuckwad.

"i just want you to know that i would never—like never—have touched you, or tried to... if i didn't think there was like, a vibe?" you shake your head, exasperated with yourself. "god, even that sounds so bad. i'm sorry, i just—"

"wait, what are—?" and then it clicks, because he's been slow on the uptake figuring out his shit when he should have been focusing way more on yours. "there was..." katsuki says, and he fucking hates that he can't find better words for what you were both feeling in his office, "a vibe."

the way your face changes when you're flustered is one of katsuki's favorite things, but it's not as enjoyable when he feels just as flustered as you look. "i—oh? so... so you—?"

his ears feel like they're being attacked by two heated straightening irons and he knows they're red as hell right now. he's gonna have to say this plainly even though he'd rather get his teeth pulled out one by one with a pair of pliers. "it's not you."

your expression loses any sort of hope it once held. you press your lips together and sigh, maybe a little exasperated. he's doing his best here but he knows his best is shit. "i can handle a non-cliché rejection," you tell him. "honestly, i'd prefer a non-cliché rejection—"

"i'm not trying to reject you," he says, and it's selfish of him. because he's really not. he isn't comfortable with the things you'd want from him, but he still wants you in some capacity. "i just don't—do shit like that."

"kissing?"

somehow knowing for sure that you did want to kiss him in his office makes him want you more. he likes that you're bold. he likes that you're not ashamed of that. he wants to be different than he is. "any... of it," he struggles to admit.

"at all?"

he nods.

"just—like touching, and stuff?"

it sounds so juvenile that he can't help but laugh through his nose, roll his eyes. "yeah. touching and stuff."

"oh."

you're disappointed. of course you are. it's not like he expected anything different, but—sometimes he fucking hates his life. hates that he can't be the thing people need him to be. hates that trying is so difficult, that it flings his stomach into space, like a throwing stone skipping across a still lake.

"so you don't go on dates, or anything."

"haven't tried."

"do you not want to?" you ask, and he can tell it's more of a genuine question than anything. you're curious about him, like you always are. it's more than he deserves, for all he can offer.

"doesn't make sense to."

"that's not what i asked."

it's not. and so katsuki listens as you ask your question again, and he really takes a moment to think.

considering the answer to your question leads him to his first date with you. and his second, and his third—his fourth, and he's keenly aware that his last fourth date ended with what he expects all dates are supposed to end with.

he takes you to the aquarium. because of all the fucking origami whale sharks. you still haven't given him one and it sticks in his craw like a bone. in front of the backlit tank that holds sharks of all types, shapes and sizes and teeth he's never pictured possible of a living creature before, he asks, "why sharks?"

you look at him, brow raised. "i don't know. they probably needed the biggest tank in the aquarium. and this looks like the biggest tank."

"no, dumbass—your sharks. the ones all over the fuckin' office."

"what, you don't like them?" you ask, but you're smiling, sly.

he shrugs. he thinks they're dumb as hell. he wants one to hang up at work, like the ones you've got hung up at your desk. "they're whatever. they clutter the fuck out of ei's office. and he's already got issues organizing." you've just made eijirou so many at his point, and it's getting ridiculous. "but what—are they easy to make, or something?"

you laugh a little. "no. not at all, actually." a whale shark swims by, its spotted hide shimmering in the tank's eerie blue lighting, and you watch it intently. "but it'd be boring if it was too easy."

this date ends with him walking you home from the aquarium a few blocks from your apartment and you smiling at him and telling him that you had a really great time, and he feels like a fucking freak because you don't even expect more. you don't wait for a kiss. don't look disappointed that he doesn't try to give you one. the way you look at him holds so much affection that he doesn't deserve and he has no idea how to reciprocate it to you, and somehow he lands on, "make me one."

"one what?" you ask, but he thinks you already know what he's asking. you like to play coy. he likes it when you play coy. when you're enjoying yourself.

"one of your little fuckin' paper things," he mutters, because admitting that he wants one of those dumbass sharks feels somehow demeaning. he doesn't want you to know how much he's wanted one. "ei's got a million of 'em."

your hand was on your door handle, but it falls to your side. he's keenly aware of its proximity to him. he doesn't feel that terrible ripping in his gut and its absence is almost frightening to him. your fingers tighten into a fist. it's cold out. "ah, and you're jealous?"

"no," he says, knee-jerk. "i just don't get why everyone gets one but me."

you smile when he says this and he could live in this image of you, delicate and small and made for him. he goes home and thinks about it until he falls asleep. thinks about it even beyond then, feels that strong breeze inside him tearing every leaf from its grounded perch.

here's the thing—nothing against jirou, but unlike his other fourth date, this one was enjoyable. more than. he loved watching you be amazed by the size of the whale sharks, and he loved watching you put a bunch of coins into the penny press and cranking the machine until one was squeezed out into the pattern you wanted, and he loved watching you lay your hand against the glass where the rubbery wings of a flood of stingrays battled for your attention, and—

he loved watching you. that's weird, right? he sounds like a fucking lunatic thinking that.

but he does. he hadn't realized until now how difficult it had been not only to touch people, but to look at them. maintaining eye contact, watching someone do a simple task out of interest instead of staring them down in an attempt to intimidate them. he's so much more fucked up than he thought but what makes it bearable is that he can do it with you. he can watch the way you enjoy things and feel like he's not intruding on something he shouldn't. without even trying, you make him feel welcome—wanted.

that's it. you make him feel wanted.

the realization affects him in a way he doesn't understand. at work the next day, when you smile at him over the top of the front desk, he feels something incredibly strong—something like instinct—that tells him to touch you. small. a thumb brushed across your cheek. his fingers grazing yours. he wants it in a way that can't be right because he's never wanted to touch someone like this.

he doesn't do it, but he thinks about it all day. your little smiles when you notice him watching you on your dates, the way your fingers graze your lips when you cover your laugh, the softness in the way you regard him. you're quiet, reserved, but when you laugh you laugh hard. he wants your soft, your quiet and your loud, he wants the feeling of your fingers on his lips, he wants your smallest smiles, all things he wishes he could fold up and keep and later display somewhere he can always see them. a school of paper fish, gaping mouths and drawn-on spots and such carefully pressed lines.

so on the eleventh date—(he knows it's ridiculous to count, but he's never spent this much time with one person before, not like this)—he reaches for your hand when you're walking alongside the bay, the air turning cold in the wake of the sunset that the two of you had just witnessed. that's romantic, you'd teased when he asked you to watch it with him. he'd rolled his eyes, shrugged you off.

but maybe he wanted it to be romantic. maybe he wanted to make this as normal as possible for you because nothing has been normal between the two of you so far.

you pull back when he reaches for you, as if on instinct. look up at him, confused, when he reaches out again. "katsuki..." you say, and it sounds as if he's done something wrong.

he tries not to let his brain spiral but thoughts drip inwards. water meeting a dented hull. what has he done this time? what else has he fucked up by being fundamentally wrong?

"you know..." you start, and you lose your words.

he thinks of kyoka, years ago. it's okay, you know. to not like it. he wonders if you'll still text him like she does.

your lips pull into a frown before you speak and katsuki can't breathe. "i was never gonna ask on my own because i know you don't like talking about things like this if you don't bring it up. but—um. katsuki—do you think i expect something from you?"

"huh?" he asks, dumb. breathing is still something he fails to do.

"i know that this is—different. i know you have some things going on that make the physical part hard for you." you look up at him so earnestly, and he loves looking at you. he loves looking at you and doesn't want to have to stop and he's worried that this is it. the moment he'll have to stop. you try to smile and it's small and he wants it all for himself. careful. delicate. secret, for him. "i'm not gonna lie to you. i don't know what a relationship without that kind of stuff looks like. but that doesn't mean i'm not willing to find out. it's—i don't need you to try to do something you think i want you to do."

"i'm not."

"it makes me feel a little sick, kat. honestly. it makes me feel like, i don't know—like i'm taking advantage of you, or something—"

"you're not."

"you don't have to do things like that to keep me around." you look flustered, eyes darting from his face to the skyline. "if you want me, i'm—you know."

it's okay, you know. "i don't know."

"i'm yours," you say, and cringe immediately at your words. "or like—i could be, you know, kind of whatever you wanted, if you—if that's what you want. would want."

katsuki can only remember a few times when his head was this quiet in the presence of someone else. when he trusted someone enough to let his mind go blank, to let himself act on instinct. "can i kiss you?"

you sigh. "this is what i was saying. i don't want you to—"

"no," he says, quiet, and he's closer to you than he's ever been. he likes the way you smell. he's not gonna apologize if that's weird. "i just want—god, i feel pathetic asking again. can i just—?"

just, just, just. just a touch, just a kiss, just a moment of your fucking time—it's all he wants. and he's never wanted like this. he's never trusted like this. his head has never quieted entirely because he's so sure that he's not going to disappoint you, or be something you don't actually want, or be wrong.

you've shown him that he can't be wrong with you, regardless of whether or not something within him is broken.

your lips are warm, a little chapped from the dry air, and he tries to remember what kissing chastely is but it's like something breaks in him further the second the two of you touch. his hands are cradling your face, his tongue is gliding against your tongue, his teeth are clacking against your teeth, and he knows the kiss is bad and wrong and messy but he suddenly needs it. he needs to feel you.

you make a noise against him and worry slices into his stomach before he realizes it's a quiet, breathy moan, and maybe you've been okay without the touch but that doesn't mean you don't enjoy it when you receive it. he can tell he hasn't made his boundaries clear enough—your hands circle his wrists, too cautious to go further, too hesitant to grip him like he thinks you want to. like he wants you to want to.

his teeth hit yours again and you laugh, and he pulls back, stomach tight. there's a hope in him that's ready to be torn.

you see it in his face—the fear. "i love kissing you," you blurt out, as if it's the only reassurance you can think of in the moment. "i mean—you're just." you laugh again, and he realizes it's nerves. you're just as nervous as he is. "can i—can we go somewhere warm? and maybe do this more? or—if this was enough—"

he's pulling you towards his apartment before you can get another word out.

kissing you is easy because you make him feel like it's relatively new for you as well. maybe that's how it feels for everyone every time, but he wouldn't know. he just feels comfortable with you. like you're not so much better than him, like you're not waiting to laugh at him when he fucks up, like you're touching him because you really want to.

so he takes you to his apartment and puts you on his couch and kisses you until your back is against the armrest and he's looming over you and you feel comfortable enough that your hands stray from his wrists to his shoulders to his hair and he didn't even know touching someone could feel like this.

put aside the fact that he's nearly finished in his fucking jeans three times just from your fingers running across his back, from the way you cup his cheek when he pulls back for air because he keeps forgetting to breathe—just having you close is intoxicating. he wants to bury his face in the curve of your shoulder, he wants to bite marks into your skin that'll stay vibrant for weeks, he wants to etch himself into you so deeply that he doesn't have to leave. these wants aren't even sexual—it's something about having you be his. i'm yours, you'd told him, and he hadn't even known that it would be exactly what he needed to hear.

he's in love with you, which isn't shocking to him, but he knows he shouldn't be in love with you yet because people that aren't fucked up in the head don't feel shit like this so quickly. he's not gonna tell you this for a very long time, but he knows—so completely and confidently—that he will reach a point when he can tell you.

"you sure you want this?" he asks, breathy, between kisses.

you stop kissing him, brows raised in surprise. "katsuki, we don't... this is a lot for one night. we can take it slow, still."

"that's—i'm not talking about that." he gives in, then—lets himself bury his face in the crook of your neck, lets himself breathe in deep, lets himself find your hands and intertwine your fingers, and you can probably feel that he's hard as fucking metal for you but that's not what's important right now. it sure as hell makes it awkward to try to have a serious conversation, though. "you sure you wanna deal with all... you know. my stuff."

"are you sure you wanna deal with all of my stuff?" you counter, and he pulls back to look at you. kissed rotten and smiling. "of course i want to deal with it. i like you."

and he likes you too. god, he likes you so fucking much.

the next morning, long after you've left for home, he finds a little orange whale shark hidden behind the alarm clock on his bedside table, stars in the place of eyes, and the trace of you is enough to make him feel warm. to hope that over time his apartment becomes full of the little paper creatures until his home is its own aquarium, until everywhere he looks is a memory of all you've brought him—pieces of you, perfectly arranged and delicately folded by your careful hands, much too gentle to tear.

[aajjks]

animal (m)

synopsis. His jealousy has you choking on his dick.

warnings. pösèssïve jk, crüdè lângüágè, slüt-shámïng, dègrádátïôn, orál sèx (m!rêcèïvïng), kïssïng, bïtïng, mêntïôns ôf blööd, döm!jk, möánïng, hè’s süch ä dïrty tàlkèr dàmn. mdnï ând dèèpthröátïng, ëxplïcït, yándèrè.

note. send asks? ENJOY, not edited. ❤️❤️ also on my anime, focused blog @ttodorokiii bakugou’s version of this is available because I wrote it back a year ago, so check it out and this is jks version. Let’s welcome new jk and you can send asks for him too xx

Maybe you shouldn’t have pissed him off so much.

Jungkook was a jealous man, he was territorial with you, but you’d never thought that a joke would get him so mad.

“fuck! Your slutty little mouth is a sin of its own,”

He growls, your eyes are filled with hot tears, you can’t see him clearly, your knees hurt but he’s merciless. He is shoving it deeper into your throat and you can’t do anything but to swallow.

The air supply is short, “you only suck MY dick!” He is being so cruel to you right now.

All you did was joke about sucking your friend off, while you now get was inappropriate, especially if you have a boyfriend, a very possessive boyfriend.

Jungkook loves you, very fucking much.

But he doesn’t get jokes, you love him very much too, he’s the only man you’ll ever love. you both have very opposite personalities.

But there is one big similarity between the two of you.

You both don’t watch your mouth.

“Fuck, it feels so fuckin’ good, I-I’m gonna cum..” he moans, you inhale a sharp breath, your jaw hurts, but he feels so good.

You want to make it up to him.

“Fuck fuck fuck… ‘m so close, make me cum yn.” He buries your face deeper into his crotch, by grabbing your hair and forcing it.

“My fuckin whore. Only mine.” He glance up at him, your hair is mess, your mouth is a mess and you can feel him shaking now, he’s turning into a mess too.

And you’re ready to take it.

All of him.

“Your fuckin’ pretty mouth is mine to fuck as I wish! Fuckin’ mine,” you can feel him bucking his hips, he’s close.

You feel close too.

‘M gonna fuck your mouth full, you want it, baby don’t you?” His tone is sickly sweet, “mhmm..” you barely reply.

“My good ba-baby fuck take it all.”

You feel him spilling all over your face, you swallow like a good girl, you want him to forgive you and you’ll do anything.

“Ye-Yeah babe, jus’like that, fuck….” He exhales a loud moan, “you’re gonna be the death of me.”

Jungkook immediately picks your body up, grabbing your face by force and kissing you fiercely, his tongue is exploring every inch of your mouth.

“‘love you so much.” He moans once again into your lips, tasting himself.

“That’s the only taste that should be in your mouth.” He licks your lip and his teeth graze your lips, he bites it hard, you whine as the pain is too strong.

“How fuckin dare you say that to him?” He stops kissing you, you cry out as you watch a string of blood connecting your lips, his hands don’t give you a break though, travelling into your panties as he grabs and cups,

His fingers are cold on your burning core, your breath hitches when you feel him tease you, “he can’t fuck you though right, princess?”

“Y-Yes, koo!” You bite the inside of your cheek, he’s such a tease.

“now ‘m gonna fuck your brains out until the name you remember is mine.”

[cazshmere]

Astrology Observations Pt.5

materialist🔖

DISCLAIMER: These are just my personal observations and are meant for entertainment purposes only; it may not resonate with everyone due to the nuances of astrology. Please respect my work and avoid copying or stealing it. Enjoy reading!!

🔮 When Venus is transiting your 5th house, you tend to become more active on social media (posting pictures, TikToks, videos, etc.) and you feel like going out of your comfort zone a bit more. It's a very fun time with a lot of playful energy 🩵✨

🔮 Can we talk about how good a Cancer Mercury's memory is? THEY have that photographic memory and remember everything so vividly. Also, they are such good listeners. If you’re a yapper get yourself a cancer mercury friend cause you best believe they’d genuinely be interested in listening to you yap away haha😭. Such a good placement to have imo (esp if there are no harsh Neptune/Saturn aspects)

🔮 A question for those with prominent Sagittarius and 9th house placements: Did y’all ever just stay with your grandparents for a long time, be it on vacation or something?

🔮 Lilith square Moon natives are afraid to express their emotional needs and feel embarrassed when they do. They immediately regret being vulnerable and wish they wouldn’t have let their guard down. It’s so sad to see honestly :((, y’all deserve the tightest hugs fr 🫂

🔮 I've noticed that people with Sagittarius placements often end up being the butt of the joke. Most of the time, they laugh it off, but it does bother them. They don’t want to ruin the “vibe” by bringing this up so they end up just going along with it 🥲

🔮 Virgo men and playing the victim in situations where they are confronted in go hand in hand plus the amount of self pitying that goes on is ridiculous 💀. Every Virgo man, when at fault, will say things like, "I know I AM a burden to you," "I know you hate ME, I would hate MYSELF too," "I know I AM a loser, and I don't know how you even stayed with ME" like boi stfu😭😭😭

🔮 Mercury trine Mercury synastry could possibly indicate having similar music tastes. The type of couple who’d share earphones and just vibe to songs together 🥺🎧

🔮 Virgo women (especially Sun, Venus, and Rising) pull off the ‘no-makeup makeup’ look so effortlessly. Natural beauties right here 🥰🤩

🔮 When it comes to celebrities or idols you really like, there's definitely some 1st house/5th house/8th house or 10th house synastry involved 👀

🔮 Aries moon friends are the best type of friends to have fr, no bs and the realest ones out there. They’re extremely motivating and will definitely help in uplifting your mood no matter what. A true ride or die friend unless you piss them off 😭🤪

© cazshmere 2024 [All Rights Reserved]

banner credits : @anitalenia <3

[flawseer]

Your thoughts on the wof characters have been really interesting and I'd love to hear your take on Starflight (your assignment of him being the 'designated sufferer' of arc one is both hilarious and tragically accurate). I've always liked him, cowardly though he is he still acts when he really needs to and the dynamic between him and Tsunami is super fun (the whole outwardly combative but inwardly just wishing to be as strong/as smart as the other).

I like Starflight and I relate to him a lot, as a fellow chronic worrier who annoys his friends with constant blathering about stuff only I find interesting, and often finding myself paralyzed in the face of decisions.

It’s funny how the story puts forward a black dragon, which in media are usually portrayed as mysterious, ambiguously malevolent harbingers of doom, and makes him into this adorable dork.

He’s also the plot’s chew toy, which I am at times less enthusiastic about. Especially when jokes are made at the expense of his misfortune.

Wings of Night and Sea

Starflight’s and Tsunami’s friendship is very engaging because, in a sense, both of them complete each other. For each, emulating the other serves as their last resort when faced with a personal crisis. Whenever Tsunami encounters a situation she cannot overcome with her usual blunt and direct approach, she asks herself how Starflight would resolve the situation. When Starflight becomes overwhelmed and too scared to move, his mind conjures an image of the strongest, bravest, most unstoppable thing he knows, which is Tsunami. Though either would be reluctant to openly admit it to each other, they both rely on each other’s strengths to cover their own weaknesses.

Through this you get the sense that, while their opposite personalities annoy each other to no end—if you locked both of them in a room for three hours, they’d be strangling each other when you open the door again—at their core they have only the deepest respect for each other. It becomes especially apparent when you realize that both of their stories in their respective books have them compare themselves to the other unfavorably.

If these two ever did a DBZ-style fusion dance, the result would likely be one of the most capable and balanced characters in their series.

Starflight's misfortune

CW: Discussion of blindness

One thing I have noticed (and have alluded to a lot in previous posts) is that the plot really likes to kick Starflight in the teeth. His own story arc puts him through the wringer, but he is not even safe in the two arcs past that, where he is largely out of focus. Most of the things that happen to him in arc 1 seem to occur for the sake of the story, but past that... it sometimes feels to me like the world has it in for this guy.

I started writing a list of every bad thing that happens to Starflight over all three arcs, but it got way too long, so now I’m just going to talk about a few select things instead.

One thing that stands out to me is that every other protagonist in arc 1 gets a specific moment. That kind of scene where they enter their tribe’s biome for the first time or connect with a particular part of their culture/physiology, and are overcome with a sudden burst of euphoria or deep resonance with their own nature. Clay gets it when he submerges himself in mud for the first time and then later again when he finds his siblings, Tsunami when she sees and smells the ocean, Glory when she’s in the rainforest and feels the sun, and Sunny when they go through the magic tunnel and end up in the desert. Starflight is the only arc 1 protagonist who doesn’t get a moment like this; when he enters his tribe’s home for the first time it’s a giant craphole that makes him feel upset. It only gets worse from there.

Then there is the big one; the misfortune that happens to him at the end of his book. I struggle to talk about this because... uh... How do I put this?

I opened this post by saying I relate to Starflight on a personal level. I wouldn’t consider myself as studious or well-read as him, so it’s not a direct comparison, but I do like to draw, write and dabble in visual artistry. This is a major part of my life; how I define myself as a person and what I think makes me “me”. The thing about this though is that all of this is tied up into one thing: my sense of sight.

It follows then that what ends up happening to Starflight is the realization of the one thing I fear the most. Thinking about the possibility of losing ones sight is deeply, personally horrifying to me. It messes me up internally just to consider it happening to me.

This, the subject of becoming blind, is a very difficult topic for any story to properly engage with. There are many pitfalls you can fall into and come off as insensitive, or ignorant. The way Wings of Fire deals with this subject is to... well... it doesn’t really. Starflight is blinded and then the story skips over most of his reaction to it because the next POV character gets separated from the group while they sort it out.

In a way, this is a good thing. I don’t know how this series—which often rushes through these really uncomfortable, harrowing events—would be able to show a realistic reaction to this development. Like, losing ones sight would be a horrifying prospect for anyone, but for Starflight especially this completely uproots not only his entire life, but his sense of identity. Everything he likes doing, everything he is and wants to be in life is rendered virtually impossible by this.

Consider who Starflight is. He is a thinker, and a worrier who is always inside his own head. He dreads and fears, he seeks out worst case scenarios, I daresay he is inclined towards pessimism. Whenever his neuroticism gets him too stressed, or emotional, or worried, he has one immediate response: bury his nose in a scroll. When he arrives in a new place, he usually asks where the scrolls are at. When he is under threat of being abducted or attacked, his first instinct is to go grab his scrolls to keep them safe. Like with me and drawing, reading is how he unwinds, how he balances himself. It is what keeps him sane and functional through dealing with adversity (and he's Starflight, so he deals with a lot of adversity).

Then this happens to him, and suddenly the one thing that makes this poor, battered boy happy, the one thing that never hurts him, is taken away forever. If I was in his place, if I learned I was suddenly blind, I would fall apart. I would cry, then scream, then cry AND scream and probably flail around in a panic. Clay would have to hold me down and restrain me so I don’t end up falling off the platform in a frenzied fit. Or worse.

So yeah, I get why the plot had to look away. Seeing this happen to Starflight—him going through this kind of anguish and then sinking into quiet despair as his world crumbles around him—would have been heartbreaking. In the end, we go on Sunny’s solo adventure and when she returns Starflight is already conveniently past the screaming fit phase and has adjusted to his new life circumstances—enough to talk and joke as if nothing happened. He then goes on to dedicate himself to bringing the wonders of literature to other blind dragons, which is a noble goal and good trajectory for his character—even if it’s a bit abrupt and I would have liked to SEE him do that instead of just being told.

Anyway.

This next one isn’t as notable because it doesn’t happen TO him, but I want to point it out to back up my claim that Starflight Ls can and will happen even in story arcs that have very little to do with him. In book 6 Moonwatcher and Darkstalker have a conversation where they discuss the concept of Nightwing powers and how they relate to the moons. The story very pointedly draws attention to the fact that Starflight nearly was born under three full moons and would have become the most powerful Nightwing of his generation if his inept caretakers had not decided to hatch him underground. While I don’t think getting these powers would have been good for Starflight in the long run, it is a bit sad considering he spent most of his childhood thinking he was born wrong because he didn’t have powers, and then Morrowseer further gaslit him about it throughout the arc.

And then we don't talk about what happens in arc 3. I am not the right person to discuss it.

My take on Starflight

I was asked to give my take on the character, so...

I already went into how I think he’s very introspective and prone to worrying. I see him as an introvert, which is something he has in common with Glory, and contrast him with Sunny, Clay, and especially Tsunami. He enjoys reading but also other activities where he gets to use his brain. He likes puzzles; I imagine he got very excited when they had to figure out the murder plot in book 2, or when he caught Blister in a lie. If he had a computer it would be full of adventure and puzzle games, and he’d hog the resident DS to play the Professor Layton series all the time.

When they found the academy, it is implied he teaches a literacy course and gives out writing assignments. That is right up his alley, but I’ve always felt he also has strong math/natural science teacher vibes. There should logically be a numbers class at that school and I can’t imagine any other character who would be more suited to teach it.

If I were asked where I would make changes to his story, I guess I would nix the part where he and Fatespeaker hook up in book 5. I have nothing against their relationship, it’s actually grown a lot on me over time. But I never liked how it started. Starflight gets rejected by Sunny and then immediately hooks up with Fatespeaker. This is really undignified for her because it takes their potentially intriguing romantic relationship and turns her into Starflight’s “rebound chick”. You really need to give yourself some time to move on from your previous attraction; rushing like this creates doomed relationships.

The original story implies that about half a year passes between the end of arc 1 and the start of arc 2. I like to pretend this gap is actually a bit longer, by like 2 or 3 years. It gives the old protagonists a bit more time to settle into the roles they’ll occupy during the next arc, and makes it more plausible to me that they could build and outfit an entire school, write the curriculum, designate roles, etc..

In that time, with things being more calm now, Starflight has opportunity to get lost in his own thoughts again. It turns out, now that the dangers of the war are no longer distracting him, he finds it difficult to cope with his blindness and sinks into a depression.

While this happens, Fatespeaker is there with him. She sees his condition worsening by the day, but refuses to give up on him. She reads to him; they talk, and they bond. Though serious self-searching and hard work, together they manage to pull out of the darkness eventually. This is how their relationship starts, and it’s also how Starflight gets the idea to invent the dragon-equivalent of braille.

Somewhere during that time, I also imagine Glory has Tamarin escorted to Jade Mountain so she can help Starflight adjust to his new situation and learn how to navigate his life without needing to rely on others. Perhaps this is what motivates Tamarin to attend the academy later.

What else is there to say? Hmm...

I think Starflight is really fond of hard candy. Jawbreakers are his favorite especially. Though given how prone to misfortune he is in the story, I’m hesitant to put him in proximity of anything with a name like that.

[killergee]

Wrote this on my phone so sorry if the formatting is wonky. First fanfic since I was a teenager, so pls be kind and enjoy!

Soshiro x reader fanfic where you're cold towards him so he thought you hated him but you actually like him.

Summary: Hoshina thinks you're only out for his position but turns out you might not hate him as much as he thinks.

P1 P2 P3

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"I am grateful and honoured to be recommended for the position of Vice Captain for the second division. However, I wish to be only Captain Ashiro's Vice Captain. Until then, I am happy to remain a platoon leader."

Those were the first words Hoshina heard you say. The first time he met you was at the higher up conference. It was decided that you would be promoted based on your performance in the latest Kaiju attack. But in all honesty, he was barely paying attention as he stood in his position behind Ashiro at the round table. It was one of those monthly meetings that seemed to drag on and on, and he couldn't help but try to stiffle a yawn. It wasn't like he had a say in the decision anyway, so what's the point of listening.

His interest peaked slightly when you walked in. He had seen you around the base a couple of times and had heard your name every once in a while. But his mind was always on training himself, the rookies, and keeping them alive.

He would be lying if he said you weren't a sight for sore eyes. Your gaze was strong, and you held your head high as you presented yourself to the higherups. One of those ice princesses, he guesses, as he shifts his gaze to look at the clock.

Who would've thought you'd be so interesting.

"HAHAHA! It's great to have aspirations," one of the higher ups laughed at your rejection, "too bad Hoshina has already got you beat. You want us to replace Hoshina with you?" A series of giggles erupted around the room.

"Not at all," you said, and Hoshina swears he saw a small smirk break your cold facade. "Hoshina is a fine Vice Captain and one that Captain Mina personally appointed. Simply put, when the time comes and Captain Ashiro needs someone else, I just want to be ready for the call," you replied with what he thinks is a bit of mirth in your eyes. He also could've sworn your gaze shifted to him at the end.

Your statement was strong, ambitious, and slightly threatening even. You've practically announced that you were out for his position and if he is ever deemed unfit, you'll be the one who'll snag it from him.

He swears that was the moment he was hooked on you.

Yet, it seems it wouldn't be easy to see that break in your facade again. Well, at least not easy for him. Somehow it wasn't until this point that he noticed how popular you were. According to everyone else, you were cool, fun, and kind. So why is it that you're always so cold towards him? He's heard your platoon absolutely gush about you to everyone they've met. He's seen you crack an unwilling smile to some of the younger cadets on the training field from a distance. Hell, he's even eaves dropped on you joking with his own squad.

"Hibino-kun, I heard you wanted to stand beside the Captain," you said slyly as you sat infront of Kafka in the study room. You were resting your head on your hand and eyeing at Kafka in a way that makes even Hoshina gulp. Though, probably in a different way from Kafka. Kafka flushed and tried to look at anywhere but you, "y-yeah I'm gonna try my best to do so... I also heard that you, um, were also aiming for Vice Captain?" He scratched his head a bit embarrassed but you only looked even more amused as your gaze sized him up as if evaluating him and his ambitions.

"That's right" you said with a mischievous smile.

"So I guess that makes us enemies for now, haha"

"No. Not necessarily," you sighed crossing your arms on the table and leaning forward as if to tell Kafka a secret. "You know the saying, the enemy of your enemy is your friend. So you and I are friends."

"And who's the enemy?"

"Hoshina, of course."

Well, isn't that something Hoshina thought. At least Kafka was enjoying himself.

"I guess he is," he said shoulders slumping, finally loosening up and laughing.

"Once he's out of the picture then we'll be enemies and I'm warning you, you don't want to be my enemy," Hoshina heard you joke back.

"Is that so?"

"Vice Captain!" Kafka shouted as he stood up to salute him as Hoshina entered the room. You on the other hand, seemed to be taking your sweet time getting up to salute him.

"Sir," you said flatly, all the humour you once had vanishing. Your eyes bored into his as if you were looking at an ant beneath your boot.

Right. Not easy. Definitely not easy at all.

"Do ya really see me that way y/n-kun?" Hoshina said as he walked to stand infront of you. "Why, you're hurting my lil' ol' feelings."

He knew he was standing closer to you than you'd like. With how your cheek slightly twitched, he can't say he wasn't enjoying this.

"I apologize, sir," you mumbled as if it pained you to say. "If it pains you so much why don't you go on leave? Take as much time as you need to recover."

"Oh? And let you take over my position?" He responded with a growing smile that showed off his fang.

"Or Hibino-kun can," you responded bringing back Hibino into the conversation.

"Um!" Hibino squeaked and both you and Hoshino snap your heads to look at him. "I-I uh... Nevermind."

"That's 5 laps for you, Hibino"

"What? Why I didn-"

"You want to do 10?" Hoshina threatened as a sliver of his eyes opens.

"No, sir!" Hibino salutes before hurrying himself out of the situation—scared he'll upset his vice captain even more.

With only the two of you left in the room, your slight step backwards doesn't go unnoticed by Hoshina.

"And how many laps do you want me to run, sir?" You asked in a way that Hoshina knows that if he were to discipline you, you'd pull your rank and find a way to refuse. Or perhaps you'll do it anyways and exaggerate his cruelty as a Vice Captain. So instead, why not take this opportunity to interrogate you?

"None. Just wanna talk"

"But Hibino-"

"Hibino-kun this Hibino-kun that. Do ya like the guy that much?" Hoshina cuts in, irked in a way he doesn't really understand.

"Negative. Just thought you'd be more fair," you responded flippantly, your eyes sharp and questioning.

"And who says you'll go unpunished?" Your eyes widened at that—but just as quickly as it did—your face returned to its calm and collected facade. Enjoying seeing the briefest crack in your composure, Hoshina started to wonder what else makes you tick and what other expressions can you make.

With a smirk he leaned back and forth on the balls of his feet, his hands clasped behind his back. "Say how long have you been in the force?"

The twitch of your eyebrow tells him you're thinking, what does that have to do with being punished. But you still responded, "six years, sir."

"Ahh so a little bit after me. No wonder. I would've remembered a face like yours in my cadet days." He said with a teasing smile. You seem to freeze a bit at his flirtation and it might be wishful thinking but did he see a small blush? Before he could think about it any further you responded, "yes, how very unfortunate we couldn't have entered the force together. Perhaps things could've been different if I had," insinuating something else.

"You're really out for my blood aren't you y/n-kun?" He chuckled lightly.

"Nope. Not really," you said nonchalantly seemingly finding his shoulder more interesting to look at. Hoshina leaned down to cut your line of sight. Face tilted at an angle, he leaned close to your face to force your eyes on him.

"Hmmm this is no good y/n-kun. We're supposed to be comrades, but where's the comraderie? How can we fight kaiju while bickering?"

"We'll survive," you said exasperated.

"Say, ya know what? I think I've thought of the perfect punishment for ya!" Hoshina exclaimed with an almost boyish excitement. He leaned back against the table and crossed his arms. "Since ya wanna be Vice Captain so bad, for your punishment ya have to follow me 'round and help me out with my duties."

"Like a servant?" You responded bewildered with his idea.

"Servant, slave, Vice Vice Captain. Call it whatever ya want. This way we can form a better relationship, which, hey, will set a great example for the kids," he joked only to be responded with your incredulous face that couldn't even bother to hide your grimace. "If anything, it'll benefit you too since you get to see what I do," he continued, shrugging slightly. "Maybe you can even find all my weaknesses and make a huge list to use against me to get my position," Hoshina chuckled at the thought.

After a beat of silence, Hoshina was moments away from taking it all back when you said, "okay, send me your schedule." This time, it was Hoshina whose eyes widened. He fully expected you to reject it. Hell, he suggested it in the first place because he wanted to see your reaction and how'd you go about rejecting him. Well, things are about to get fun.

His mouth curled into a grin. "Meet me at my office by 7am tomorrow," Hoshina said as he headed out of the room. "Get some rest, you'll need it."

"Whatever you say, your highness, bowlcut motherfucker," he heard you mumble under your breath as the door clicks close behind him.

Oh yea. This will be fun.

‐------------

It's been three weeks since you've been tasked to follow him around. Three weeks of teasing and getting to know each other. Three weeks of little change in your attitude towards him, Hoshina thinks sadly. He thought that he would've been able to win you over with this extra time together. Yet, it seems that he was the only one being won over.

He couldn't stop himself even if he tried. Your quick and witty comebacks. Your cold phrasing and comments that are unintentionally funny (or perhaps they are intentional and it's just your humour?). Your earnest efforts in completing the ridiculous tasks he's assigned you. The glimmer in your eyes and your attempts to stop a smile when you're trying to pretend he isn't funny. He couldn't help but be drawn towards you—basking in the light that you emit, the light you try to hide behind your cold facade.

He wonders if you could tell. If you noticed the glances he threw your way. If you saw how he lit up when you entered the room. If you could see how distracted he became when you sat and worked beside him. Shoulders only a hair's breath apart. So close that he could only smell your sweet perfume and watch your fingers fiddle with the edge of paper. He always had to stop himself from leaning closer until his nose rested in the crook of your neck—until he could breath you in deeper. Oh how he longed to close his hand over yours so that you could hold onto something more stable than paper. How he wished to distract you the way you distracted him.

Hoshina huffs out a sigh as he walks out of the captains meeting with the other divisions. Ashiro couldn't attend so he went in her stead—much to Captain Narumi's displeasure. He did take you with him hoping that after this maybe he could convince you to get ice cream with him or something on the way back home to base. He can already imagine how bored you were waiting for him and how that might higher your chances of saying yes. He remembers you were talking with some other recruit from the 1st division when he left you in the break room.

The sound of your voice makes him halt a couple of steps infront of the break room.

"Eh? No way you think Captain Narumi is cooler than Captain Ashiro," he hears you argue.

"I'm sorry are your eyes broken or something? He's so hot. You can't compare him to her like that. They're two different kinds of hot" the girl he assumes he saw earlier responds passionately.

"Sure I'll concede to that but not to him being cooler." That's not something Hoshina wanted to hear right after his hours long meeting. Leaning back against the wall beside the slightly opened door, he can't help but feel irked. He couldn't believe he's getting jealous of Ashiro.

"Ugh that's just cuz you haven't seen him up close yet, " the other girl responds. "But hey, at least there's one thing we can agree on."

"And what's that?" You ask and Hoshina can tell your interests has been peaked.

"That Vice Captain Hoshina is the worst of the bunch." Hoshina's eyebrow twitches and he has half a mind go in there and make the recruit do 200 push-ups or try to find Narumi and beat him into a pulp. He doesn't because he was more curious about your response.

"I saw you rolling your eyes at him before the meeting. It must be tough working for him," the recruit continues.

You let out a tired laugh, "oh yeah, he's the worst. He's got me running around like a servant!" You say with a sigh and you lean your head onto your crossed arm on top of the table.

"Really! That's crazy. I just can't get over his bowlcut."

"RIGHT! His stupid bowlcut. His stupid fangs. His stupid cocky attitude..." Alright, well. Hoshina couldn't handle anymore of this. He pushed himself off the wall ready to open the door.

"God, I want him so bad." Huh? Hoshina froze in his steps, eyes wide open. Did he mishear you? He must have misheard you.

"HUH?" The recruit repeats a second later. "But you were just calling his hair stup-"

"It is stupid. He should not look that hot with that hair cut," you ramble on seriously as if in a world of your own.

"Stupid little fangs. I hate the way he uses them to nibble on his lips when he concentrates. Why the fuck does he have fangs?! Is he a vampire? God, it's so distracting." Although you're saying all of this like a rant, Hoshina can't help but overheat in his uniform. Covering half his face with his hand he already knows he's red.

"What? Are we looking at the same person?!" The recruit exclaims exasperated with you.

"I think I'm losing my mind," you say running your hand through your hair trying to soothe yourself. "He's so annoying. Always teasing me and sticking so close to me. God I feel like I'm always a second away from tearing at my hair or tearing that stupid compression shirt off. Any tighter and he won't be able to breath. It's like he's doing it on purpose to show off his abs." Hoshina chokes on his own spit.

"You know what? M-maybe it's cuz you haven't gone on a date in a while. Maybe you just need to get laid." The recruit says with a touch of worry—genuinely trying to find any rhyme or reason to your attraction.

"Ughhhh," you say sliding down your chair. "Maybe you're right, I should get laid." There's a pause before you're suddenly sitting back up straight. You lean towards the recruit across the table, "maybe I'll ask Captain Narumi out."

NO "NO!! He's off limits don't you fucking dare!" The recruit screams standing up abruptedly and slamming her hands onto the table.

By the sounds of your maniacal laughter, Hoshina hopes you're only joking.

"Don't worry," you wheeze out, wiping a tear from your eye. "Your precious Captain is all yours." Hoshina hears the humour and mischief in your voice and he can't help but smile too. From the sound of your voice, he knows you're not done teasing the recruit.

"PLUS-" Ah, there she goes " Vice Captain Hoshina is much much MUCH cooler than Captain Snorumi anyways."

The scandalous gasp does well to hide his own snicker.

"HOW DARE YOU!"

"That's just the truth, hun. We all know it," you say matter of factly as you lean back into your seat crossing your arms.

"You can't even compare someone who's only a Vice Captain to a Captain! Captain Narumi climbed the r-"

"Oh is being Captain all it takes to be cool? Well Narumi must've been a drag before he became Captain." You argue back defiantly and cheekily, clearly enjoying this.

"Well swords are powerless against a gun! He can't-"

"And yet he was able to be promoted to Vice Captain with his swords while some of us can't even become a platoon leader with their guns." Both the recruit and Hoshina gasp at that and Hoshina decides to interrupt before the situation escalates further. If only he was a little less responsible. He would've loved to see how far you'd go for him. Oh well, he has all the time in the world to corner you about it.

"Yoohoo! The meetings over y/n-kun- Ah, sorry, was I interrupting something?" He says with a grin as both your heads snap towards him scandalized. Well, the recruit appears to be scandalized. You seem to be mortified.

Your jaw dropped open and the red that was flushing your skin from the tip of your ears all the way down to your neck was so pleasing. To think that you yourself would be the downfall of your cool and collected image amuses Hoshina greatly. He can only stare and admire the mess you've become. Too cute. Way too cute for his heart.

"C-captain!" Your voice cracks. Oh, even cuter. "I uh- I, we were- you didn't interrupt anything at all" you say clearing your throat and trying to regain your composure.

"What's got ya all worked up l/n?" He asks with false innocence as he tilts his head, "were you talking about something you shouldn't be?" He teases with a slight lilt in his voice.

"Of course not!" Growing a shade brighter you add "Sir!" to try to save yourself.

"Well alright then, come on let's go, I'm over this place," Hoshina says nodding his head goodbye at the recruit and exiting the room. He hears you whisper shout your own goodbyes before running to catch up with him. You stop and walk slightly behind him and he can't help but revel in your embarassment. He wonders if he should let you off easy or see how far he can push you...

"So you think my hair is stupid?"

He swears he can hear you internally scream.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Take your time but PLEASE WE(mostly just me) NEED MORE DOMESTIC (d&w) GAMBIT AND READER 🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐

Your just giving my an excuse to write more for this lovely man. Channing Tatum deserves that solo Gambit movie. I’m no joking, give me two and a half hours of this beauty and I’ll have my ass sat down for it.

If there was anything Remy loved more then you- which is impossible by the way- it was making you breakfast in the morning just so he could get to see your half awake stumble into the kitchen, half awake, and cuddling yourself into his back.

‘Remy, why did you leave me all alone to the cold.’ You whined as you burrowed your face into his bare back. Remy often slept shirtless most nights but he also did this because he knew how much you loved seeing him shirtless, that and he loved skin on skin contact with you, for to him it felt as though your souls were harmonising with one another and oh so sweetly it almost sounded like birds softly chirping in the early morning.

Remy chuckles. ‘Apologise Cher but as much as staying in bed with the most important person in my life sounded like a good idea, I unfortunately know how you get when you get hungry.’

You gasped, looking at him with a pout as you gently slapped his bicep. ‘If you are insinuating that I get grumpy when hungry, then you’re wrong Mr playing cards.’ Remy raised his hands as he attempted to hold back his laughter but was failing miserably every time he went to look at you. ‘You are the one who said it mon Amour, remember that.’ He said as he brought one of your hands from his waist, holding it up to his lips to kiss it repeatedly before back to his waist.

‘You being cute and sexy as you make breakfast doesn’t give you an out of jail free card you know.’ You mumbled against his back, tightening your grip on him but all you were doing was making him smile and feel even more loved than before. Life before you was a nightmare for Remy that he wishes to never return to, not when your clinging onto him like a koala, tightening your grip on him as he reached for the top cupboards for plates to put your breakfast on all the while letting his mind drift off to future mornings he planed on sharing with you.

He couldn’t help it, you held his heart as though it were made of glass between your hand, making sure to kiss each and every wound it has ever harboured to heal it from pain of the past. Remy knew that he wanted to wake up with the from the very moment you greeted him way back when and not once had he ever regretted it. After all your early morning clinginess was cute enough to make the man want to put down the spatula he was holding and smother your face in kisses.

Remy stopped. ‘Actually that doesn’t sound like a bad idea.’ He said to himself before shifting himself in your arms to have a better look at you as his hands cupped your face, stroking your cheeks as you melted into his touch much like a cat would. ‘Are you trying to make me fall asleep standing up?’ You asked him, finding it harder to keep your eyes open when Remy was caressing your face so soft and tenderly, you swore that man had magic, especially given how often you felt weak in the knees whenever he held you like this after a long and hard day. ‘Because it’s kinda working.’ You add but Remy was quick to pull his hands away from your face and smirked cheekily.

‘You dick I was enjoying that.’ You pouted as Remy chuckled, resting his head against your own.

‘Well I have something you might enjoy a lot more Cher.’ He whispers.

‘And what’s that?’ You whispered back, looking deep into his eyes and finding nothing but the purest of love, adoration and warmth within them staring back at you. Remy didn’t say nothing and just started smothering you in plenty of kisses while you squealed in his arms, trying weakly to get away but you loved the affection as much as Remy did giving it you as he tightened his grip on you and laughing at your squeals of surprise.

‘Remy!’ You exclaimed. ‘Breakfast will burn if you’re too busy drowning me in kisses!’

Remy only peppered more kisses to your face, neck and shoulders. ‘You are far too irresistible Cher, I couldn’t help myself from acting on what my heart wants and it wants you.’ He says and you couldn’t help but met at his buttery words as they always made you feel special and unique in his eyes, which you very much were and Remy wasn’t about to let you forget that as long as he had air in his lungs. ‘You really are a sappy romantic.’ You told him fondly as you ran your hand through his hair, keeping his face buried in your neck as you hummed at each and every kiss he gave you there.

‘But you love me for it.’ Remy replied knowingly.

‘I do, it’s a curse ow!’ You yelped when you felt him pinch your side and softly slapped his bicep again, making him chuckle. ‘That hurt you littl- do you smell burning?’ You asked and Remy was quick to remove himself off of you to look behind him, only to see that he had left the bacon on the stove a little too long and now they were burnt to a crisp; Something that almost never happens when Remy cooks. He then looks back at you with a sly smile. ‘Is that lazy day in bed still up for grabs mon Cher?’ He asked and you couldn’t help but sigh lightheartedly before getting towards the door. ‘Come on then handsome, back to bed we got for a couple of minutes or half a hour.’ You said as you and Remy left the kitchens together, though not before throwing away the burnt bacon and cleaning up after yourselves.

Breakfast might’ve not gone well but that didn’t mean you weren’t going to enjoy snuggling under the covers and possibly falling asleep until mid-day until Wade and Logan come by to drag you both into their shenanigans again.

[lovecla]

THIS IS MY PLAYPEN ; JACK HUGHES.

WARNINGS unedited, jealous jack!!!!

WORD COUNT 0.7k

FROM ME TO YOU it’s officially 2025 where i live and i just wanted to write something short and funny because we need more jealous jack fics in this world *mark ruffalo protesting meme*. honestly, i’m just so grateful for all of you i wish i could drag you to my home and smooch you all. thank u so much for everything!

𐙚

“I FEEL like a skirt shouldn’t be that short,” Jack says, eyeing you across the room. “I mean, when she bends over to do that I can literally see her panties.”

“You mean when she bends over to grind on her best friend?” Luke chuckles, leaning against the counter. “She’s just dancing, man.”

“The problem isn’t her dancing—”

“The problem is that you’re not the one she’s bending over for, right?” Luke rolls his eyes when Jack gives him the finger. Sometimes he felt like Jack was the youngest one among them all.

“I could totally be the one she’s bending for,” he says, acting all nonchalant and unimpressed. Luke almost laughs with how full of bullshit his brother is. “She likes me.”

Luke sips on his beer, and Jack turns around, furrowing his eyebrows. “Why didn’t you say anything? Do you know something I do not?”

Luke places his glass on the counter and raises both of his hands. “Man, chill. If she likes you, if she doesn’t, it doesn’t matter; that’s not why we’re here today. It’s Mercer’s birthday, so suck it up, dude.”

Jack knows he should listen to his brother and act with his upper head, but it gets so hard— literally— when he has to stand there with his teammates and pretend he’s not watching your every move like a fucking creep.

He had never noticed how hot you were. He knew you were pretty, because only a blind person couldn’t do so, but hot? Yeah, no. You were usually the type of girl who wore large clothes, and even though he thought you were cute nonetheless, now that he’s seeing you with other eyes, he realizes he can’t live without having at least a taste.

But fucking Johnathan Kovacevic beats him to it, and Jack seriously wants to punch the guy in the face because really? Can that dumbass not see Jack spent the last thirty minutes or so eye fucking you? Like, hello?

He knows he can’t really be upset, but when you smile, bright and sweet, he swears he’s seeing red everywhere.

“Dude, chill, what the hell,” Jack hears someone say, but he doesn’t even acknowledge who. He just keeps staring as you lean forward to reach Kovacevic’s ear, standing on the tip of your toes.

You look so fucking gorgeous. Even if Jack believes you shouldn’t be wearing something that short— not because it doesn’t look good but because he can’t even protect you if someone decides to try something funny—, he knows you’re the most beautiful person he has ever seen.

Yet now you were laughing at Kovacevic, probably not even funny, jokes.

“Luke,” he calls his brother, who silently rolls his eyes before putting his phone down to give his brother his full attention. “Can you, like, help me out?”

“I’m not going to talk to her,” he says. “What is this, fifth grade? ‘Hey, Y/n, my brother really likes you and would like to hold hands during recess if that’s possible—‘” he says, doing a very annoying voice.

Jack holds in the need to punch him.

“No. I meant something like getting Johnathan out of there or something,” he explains. “So I can go talk to her.

“That’s just as childish but fine.”

Luke makes his way to where you and Johnathan were standing and says something that makes Kovacevic’s eyebrows meet his hairline and, the best part, also makes him leave.

So you’re standing in the middle of the dance floor by yourself, but not for long because—

“Hey, there, Y/n,” Jack greets you, trying his hardest to sound cool. You chuckle, smiling at him.

“Hi, Rowdy. How are you?”

“Better now.” He answers smoothly, which makes you laugh.

“You’re awful,” you grin. “Aren’t you supposed to be with Mercer? It’s his birthday…”

“I’d rather be here, with you,” he puts his hands inside his front pockets, and you stare at him closely. The hat he’s wearing makes him look hotter, even if it gets you a little bit sad because you can’t fully see his perfect, golden hair. “You look hot.”

You tilt your head, the unexpected compliment making you blush. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he hums. “You look even hotter now that you’re not talking to other guys.”

That makes you roll your eyes, even if you’re still smiling. “You sound like a toxic boyfriend.”

“I could be that, yeah,” he smirks.

“Toxic?” You raise your eyebrow.

“A boyfriend,” he presses his lips together. Then, “Your boyfriend.”

“Well,” you step closer, looking up at him. “I think we can make that work.”

He smiles before kissing you, and surely, the rest is story.

[shaisuki]

❝ WOUNDS FOR ME TO HEAL. ❞

✞ FEATURING. BULLY! GOJO SATORU AND GETO SUGURU

▶ SERIES MASTERLIST

CONTENT WARNINGS. body image + talks about insecurities + mentions of past traumas + angst + ooc geto and gojo. i wrote this at five am and i still have not sleep yet.

NOTES. i'm sorry for the lack of update on this series. I've kind of lost interest in this one since i'm no good in plotting and writing multiple chaps. you can read from how it have gotten boring starting from the previous chapters. i apologize now for the confusion of the plot.

SYNOPSIS. to break from the past you desperately want to forget, facing them is the only choice you have left to move forward and is forgiveness is easy to be given as it was forgetting.

your fingers reach for the switch. flipping it and the light turns on, illuminating the bathroom where you spent your days staring at the large mirror by the sink. back in the days you avoided mirrors finding your reflection repulsive added by the torture where they forced you to touched yourself. confidence isn't the only qualities you wished you have and maybe thing weren't be this bad. a constant battle to yourself where you always lose.

grabbing the collar of your coat, you slowly removed it, followed by stripping out of your blouse and then your pants until you were left in your undergarments. there in the mirror stood you.

your reflection clear as the daylight and you can see every imperfections that you hated. the words came echoing how the strangers surrounded you holds such sharp tongues about your body when they didn't live on it. the venom in the words stinging your skin like it was a sin to grew with a body you have.

you scan your body with every flaw you can see starting from your face. round and the baby fat since you were born didn't dissolve as you grew up. the cheeks remains the same. you slightly cringe at the pain surfacing. this is where gojo have pinched your cheeks so bad that they started to bruise. he pays no attention to your eyes swelling with tears, too indulged in the feeling of the softness of your cheeks that he can't believe that they were that squishy and the many times where they would grasp it when they force to look in the eyes. geto is cruel when he comes to cup your cheeks in his hands and your jaw also.

then your eyes. the eyes you own where it cried tears. there's nothing bad about them. it just it have seen the hundreds of event in where they defiled you. the degrading actions you have done out of their expenses and you hear nanami's words. “they're kind. the gentlest of eyes i have seen in a person. never to cloud with wrath and kindness is the only thing you could ever see.” you remember him saying that to you. one night when you're in the brink of losing yourself and you lost the hope to move forward. you find his own eyes staring back at you. honey is the color of them and when you look farther it's brown and then this close it's a different shade of color. a sugar caramelizing in a hot pan and the thought of nanami's eyes brought you peace.

you see your lips curving into a smile in the reflection but it turns into a thin line when your eyes move to look at your flabby arms. the slightest of movement and just holding of it moves. you remember a joke to one of your skinny classmates that it is almost the size of their legs while it's true, you thought that they should have never pointed it out since you already knew it and it's not like within seconds it would disappear.

it was with you in a different time of the span of your life and then the biggest insecurity that comes into view is your stomach. it was round with the pooch almost drooping down but it is still big that pokes in tight shirts and where you find him lying down. your palms touch the squishy flesh. you grabbed a handful of it before letting it go. watching it jiggle and you look at it weird. it once carried life and after scrutinizing yourself from head to toe. you never changed and only gained the weight. you laugh at yourself like you heard something stupid. you tried to lost the weight but it's something that won't leave you and you accepted it. long ago where you've decided you want to be a better version for yourself and for the people that surrounds you, especially the two who have been your light.

after your little session with yourself, you made it a habit to do so. to remind what needed to be done and you won't be blinded again by such pretentious acts. part of you wanted to fight but you were weak and you cannot be weak when you want to fight. you set aside the thoughts for tonight, what happened earlier scared you. meeting him early wasn't intended but you did and it scares you. what if you suddenly revert back to the old helpless you. your body can betray you at such times and you needed a mind to remind and you scoff. you act like the wounds and how they scarred you didn't turned your flight or fight mode. there are things that much needed your attention and you're only starting to wrap things up.

after a quick bite, you quickly made your way to your work cubicle. paperwork's are starting to pile and you don't want to be buried underneath by it and you start except there was a huge bouquet of flowers sitting in your desk. an arrangement of deep purple hyacinths and daffodils. there's no note about it but you knew where this is coming from. without a second thought you grabbed the flower arrangement that cost more than what its worth and dunked it into your trash can. you didn't need it. it's a distraction and flowers won't make you forget and forgive. it would cost more than that.

sighing, you rubbed a sore spot in your temple. taking a big breath and exhaling. you settled in your chair. punching the keyboard with the documents needing to be submitted in the later day. glancing at the already wilting flowers rotting in your trash. this isn't going to be easier. they're already moving and sooner or later you're going to meet them. your fears already coming back and you clenched your fists. crumpling the paper you hold.

“satoru~”

a flirtatious voice coming from his fiancee who is seated on his lap. poking him with her acrylic nail in his cheek to get his attention. “you're not spending time with me anymore.” her voice sad and the gloss in her lips sticks upon pouting. gojo almost rolls his eyes but for appearances and to satiate his fiancee's attention from him, he plays along. “sayuri, i am. why are you in my lap then?” he bites his tongue from making it sound sarcastic but his fiancee was oblivious to it and continues her childish whims to to him.

“because i missed you and i want your attention.” her hands creeping up on his thigh and satoru winces from it. he hold her wrist. “laters, baby. i'm expecting company.” he interrupts her advances and it made her annoyed.

“with who?” she asks. batting those eyelashes that made her look like a stupid bitch. “suguru.” her eyes brightened like she received a good news. “then he won't mind.” she says. trying to convince him of staying but gojo isn't convinced in the slightest. sayuri's been desperately clinging to him since college and hasn't left his side ever she knows that they were about to be engaged and now engaged, she's been worst.

“private matters between us and it's not your business.” he doesn't look at her and his sight stays glued to his phone. sayuri smiles at him before kissing his cheeks and then getting up on his lap much to her dismay. she began to slowly walk away and part of her hopes he would call her and ask her to stay. say he don't mind and suguru could go fuck himself if he don't want her staying him but it was a far cry from what she hoped. deep down, she's always second to the bitch that got the best friends head over heels even if they won't show it, especially satoru but what about it, the fat bitch's probably dead and she's the winner. satoru belongs to her and later suguru would be next. the heels click against the cold floors and that's the only thing she hears as she walked away from her fiancé's office and with her thoughts.

his eyes search for something, specifically someone. the one who had been haunting him since that accident. your disappearance were a blow to him and he longs to see you again even a glimpse of you is enough to know you were alive and within in his grasp.

he spots you taking a phone call, papers in your hand as you diligently arranged them while being in a call and it was enough for him. a small smile etched in his face. while in the elevator ride, you didn't change after that. still plump and you look like you've gained more and his hands itched to touch you. feel your body move and hear your voice.

despite busy schedules he took time to meet satoru who was equally busy as him. he's building his own firm with the influence he have it won't take long before it's established and he already have people following him and he was earning from it.

the elevator dings, stepping out. he barely glanced at satoru's secretary. what's the reason to check up on his secretary when he usually frequents the building and is a long time friends with the ceo.

upon entering, he finds satoru in deep thought. “yo, satoru.” he casually calls him and satoru perks up at the sound of his voice. they settled in one of the couches except for where he's seated as the ceo.

“is there a progress, satoru?” he began. since you were in gojo's turf working under him, he let gojo shoot his shot at you and from the looks of it, the answer is disappointing and when this kind of dilemma occurs. patience isn't what satoru's next move. it would be brash and that will definitely spook you for good. suguru chuckles at satoru's silence before sipping from his cup or tea he brewed.

“flowers won't win her, satoru and certainly not those gifts you've been dumping on her desk. bet she'd thrown that out. she's not you fiancee.”

gojo groans at the thing where his fiancee is brought up and the failed attempts of wooing you anonymously. you know it was him but choose to ignore it without hesitation of dumping his gifts and not even showing the faintest of appreciation.

“and what do you propose, suguru?”

they both exchanges gazes and they know what the answer is. they have to meet you, personally.

it's been a year since you've started working here for the company and your supervisor have taken a liking to you. you were more like of her assistant than the other and you kinda felt bad about it since you're eclipsing her job but the other's fine with it means she could slack and you can even workloads now with the same pay check. you didn't complain though and with your supervisor being this attentive you might get the recommendation you needed to rise and it would be a good reference for when you're about to switch jobs.

currently, you were busy preparing the files that were needed for a meeting. the client decided they would like to meet up in a private restaurant. it wasn't a first to you since you've dealt previous appointments similar to this and besides your supervisor was going to be there or is she?

apparently, she have to cancel and let you handle this one since she trusts you she says before running to the upper floor to get her other duties. it was last minute that's why she have to let you go alone and you accepted it without hesitation cause you were just getting over proposals. get them to sign and you're done. it's courtesy to transact faster.

a high-end restaurant is where they have decided and you weren't surprised by it. half of the work force who have the same job as yours and exclusive clients choose to use restaurants like this as a meeting place.

upon arrival, you greeted the host and told the name of the client.

“hi, i have the reservation under mr. kobayashi for three pm.” you politely inform him and the host nods before ushering you to a private room. “mr. kobayashi informed us that he will be running late and you have to wait here.” the host told you and you nod. understanding the situation and this happens occasionally. you thanked him before seating in one of the chairs. you didn't bother to notice the arrangements since your supervisor isn't available at the moment. thus, you began to review the files you were about to show mr. kobayashi.

the doors open and that takes your attention from the files you were checking. your head low and when you raised your head. standing up to greet mr. kobayashi. the words for stuck before you can utter his name.

it wasn't mr. kobayashi, a balding man, whose in his fifties in a suit is what you expected instead it was two of them who have entered. a matching suit and tie but it differs in color. a navy colored suit is what gojo wear and a coal black suit for geto.

“stay where you are, (y/n). we have things to discuss.” suguru started and your legs felt weak. your heart beating rapidly and your hands starts to feel clammy. you want to throw up and just like that, it looks like you were teleported back in that cold room where you lay naked without a voice to speak and the strength to fight back.

after ordering the waiter to come back for a another hour, you feel trapped again with no means of escape. they can easily hold you down and worse, do it again. you have never felt this fear so you distract yourself from taking a sip of water.

they both sat down in their chairs beside you. not too far, not too close but it doesn't ease your nerves. you placed your hand in your thigh, your leg hasn't stopped shaking. a tick that developed, being triggered when you are put in a stress.

satoru places his hand in your shoulder. “don't touch me.” you muster the courage to speak up and he was quick to retract his hand back to its place. a touchy asshole who can't live without any physical contact. he was visibly annoyed and suguru shoots him a look.

“we won't do anything to you, (y/n). we just want answers.” suguru assures you. you take a brief look at him and you take a deep breath.

“answers for what? i'm not obligated to answer the questions you want to ask.” you swallowed thickly. you should have done it a long time ago. talk like this but you would get a spanking for it.

satoru rolls his eyes. you were this feisty since college and he's getting the full brunt of it right now. he's not the same anymore he would tell himself but sometimes he still is. “what happened to you that night?” is the first question he asked you. they know what happened to you that night but it would ease them if the answer comes from you.

you raised a brow at him. tears pooling at the corner of your eyes. you didn't have much memory of it except for when you woke up at a hospital with nanami and haibara at your side.

“i don't know. i just woke up in a hospital. doctors saying i was in coma for two days. might as well be dead.” you say without hesitation and you just want to leave this room.

their expressions is what you cannot make. disbelief? confusion? guilt? you laughed at the last part since when these two felt guilt about what happened to you. they certainly didn't feel guilty when you were crying your eyes out begging them to stop.

“why come working at my company, (y/n)-chan?” gojo was the next to ask you and you want nothing than to wipe that look on his face.

“don't you call me (y/n)-chan. i am not your (y/n)-chan. i needed a job. isn't it that obvious.” you want to scoff at him and you didn't dare make eye contact to the both of them.

“you transferred hospitals and never came back. w—”

“why i didn't came back?” you interrupted geto. oh boy, you were starting to spit venom. “so what? you can fuck me all over again?”

gojo was about to open his mouth again but you beat him to it. “it's not what it is? you didn't mean it? what? you two are changed people now? stop with the excuses and please i want to be excused in this farce of a meeting.”

“you're not resigning.” gojo warns you. “rest assured i'm not going to. i'm not planning to break my contract.” you tell him. your voice barely above a whisper. trying to keep your tears at bay.

“(y/n)...” suguru mutters. his hand holding your cheek and you close your eyes. his touch repulsed you but why does your body wanted to be held like this. he comes closer. “we can't change what we did to you but will you allow us to make it up to you?”

you opened your eyes and you met his own and it just reminded you of the misery and the torture they put you through. the same eyes who looks at you like you were trash is now somewhat holding warmth. you glance at gojo and he was also anticipating for your answer.

you inhaled and then exhaled. a stray tear rolling down in your cheek and it pains them to see you hurting from what they have done. they'll do anything in their power to make up for the pain they caused you. say the word and they'll do it. your forgiveness is what they wanted and maybe your affections too but they won't take that chance easily.

your eyes searched for the sincerity in their looks and mostly in their eyes and it was honestly true to their words and you hate yourself for what you are about to answer.

“i'll think about it.”

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