#also its so WEIRD seeing her without the mask i use in. almost all of her glams lmao

[sirotras]

the Rising (2024)

[da-janela-lateral]

Aaaaa I wish I could make some art to accompany this post, but I can't do so in the moment and I really want to express my "post-epilogue Mob and Tsubomi friendship" thoughts. LONG text below.

They start talking some time after Confession Arc, but their bond actually begins after Tsubomi moves from Seasoning City. She enjoys having someone to tell her how things are going on her hometown, as she didn't keep in touch with all of her school friends and misses how life was in Seasoning. This helped her to get more used to this drastic change on routine.

It was... awkward on the start. Mob had to process that Tsubomi was nothing like the perfect concept that lived on his head, besides the fact that she was upset by people idealizing her (its not nice to know you're part of the problem). Tsubomi on the other hand needed to shut down her slight suspicion built with the experience of bad rejection aftermaths and trust in Mob's intentions. After all, he was her good childhood friend

It doesn't take much for them to get over this, though. Mob comes to care a lot for the real Tsubomi and makes an active effort to know her better. This flawed, human Tsubomi was different, but she was a dear person to him and so it wasn't an issue. Tsubomi is relieved to see Mob's desire to become her friend was genuine (and feels a little bad for doubting). She was glad to get back in touch with him after so such a long time and got impressed with how much he had matured without her noticing. In a way, she also used to see him as that little boy from years ago...

They talk to each other by phone almost daily, speaking of how was their day and sending random stuff. If anything happens, they sure would inform the other.

Mob discovers she likes the yellow cat plush and keeps showing her cats he saw. Tsubomi tries to read some of his favorite manga to understand what he is talking about.

Tsubomi got overwhelmed with how much her school life changed in her new city. She was very happy to not being treated as a deity, but also wasn't used to being a common student. Mob helps her to become adjusted to a normal life and stop wearing the mask she was forced to use in Salt Mid. He understands how weird it is like to be your own vulnerable, true self next to others.

In exchange, Tsubomi's experience proves to be very valuable when Mob gets more attention from his peers and has to face social situations he never participated of before. Parties are stressing. She too recognizes he is still learning to express himself and is happy to see how he opens up with her.

Althought Tsubomi learns to be more authentic over time, she still struggles with demanding too much of herself. She panicked after thinking she didn't do good in her exams, and Mob spends an hour explaining that she isn't special and how its bad to expect she'll be flawless all the time. Besides that, her skills shouldn't define her worth as a person, as she is much more than her results. Tsubomi remembers this.

Mob often asks for Tsubomi's opinion. Sure, Reigen is still his go-to for advice, but some topics are more comfortable to talk with someone his age. Mob really values Tsubomi's confident honesty and her practical, direct solutions. He also feels safe talking with her because he knows that despite being blunt, she wouldn't say anything to hurt him.

They visit each other occasionally when they're on high school! The train rides are quite long, though, so most times it's more practical to invite more people and have a sleepover. Mob and Tsubomi's respective friends know the other pretty well.

[cyanoticfireflies]

Hazbin Hotel - Rewatch Thoughts (Episode 1, Part 3)

I know Adam has his guitar and Alex Brightman voice, but is he an actual rockstar in Heaven?  He’s going on about his gig in his anecdote. 

They talked about how Lilith empowered demon-kind with her songs – but how did Heaven get its groove then?

I’m so fascinated by this because Adam knows who Charlie is.  He knows she’s Lucifer’s daughter, which pretty much makes her Lilith’s daughter (theories in the epilogue, theories in the epilogue) which means that she could have been Adam’s daughter if his first wife hadn’t run off with another guy.  Honestly, considering how immature and spiteful Adam is shown to be later, sitting down and talking to Charlie and having lunch “with” her is reasonably chill behavior on the Adam scale….  I’m kind of getting “that weird uncle that peaked in college” vibes from him.

Starting from about this point is where Lute begins to become more interesting to me than Adam.  We get what he’s like.  But when he’s asking whether a girl would want a “lesser” guy to him, Lute shakes her head, agreeing with him. 

She hasn’t said a word so far, but immediately she’s on Adam’s side – not at all appalled that this guy representing Heaven is acting like this and in agreement with him even.

Lute will remain fascinating to me, just saying that now.

Adam goes into listing what he thinks is “our biggest problem” and knowing what we know about Adam later him possibly having herpes is both amusing and scary.  I’m pretty sure he uses the exorcist army as his own harem.  Maybe that’s why all of them are so angry.

(Yes, I think everyone caught the fourth wall break.)

(We’re not the ones who refuse to go out in public without a mask on, big man.  Well, at least not since COVID numbers went down!)

I really want to find out Niffty’s backstory. 

I’m sure Vivianne already has the whole thing drafted out in her head.  But that complete paralysis when the camera was rolling seemed like a trauma response.  And that’s in a room that has a guy that is frequently raped on camera standing a few feet away from her.  Niffty goes totally dissociative until she hears the word “cut” and the camera beep off.  So, so curious.

(Have some nightmare fuel.)

I feel like working in the film industry Angel would be the perfect person to explain “fix it in post” to Vaggie if she hadn’t bitten his head off.  He literally raises his hands in surrender when she snarls at him, so done with all of their shit.

What room is Vaggie in when she’s editing the commercial?  We know there’s a reasonably better working TV down in the living room since they were watching it at the beginning of episode 4, and that room doesn’t look like hers and Charlie’s room that we see later on.

And why did this seemingly unused room get matching elephant statues for the mantle?

Alastor shows up to be generally unhelpful and kick her while she’s down, as he’s wont to do. 

Alastor’s shadow thing is so interesting to watch.  In some ways, it almost acts like Asmodeus’s extra faces from Helluva Boss, mimicking Alastor’s emotions.  But then other times it acts semi-separately.  Is the shadow thing supposed to be Alastor’s unfiltered id behind his veneer?

(You can actually kind of see a non-psychotic deer form for Alastor when the camera bugs out when Vaggie is trying to video him.  That looks like a deer to everyone else too, right?)

When Alastor has his “this face was made for radio” freakout, he’s missing the X in the middle of his forehead that he always has later, which is just an interesting detail to note.

I also feel like “who or what you are” is something that could come up later on.  We know that Alastor is an aberration in Hell, having powers at levels never before seen from a Sinner.  Either his deal goes back farther than I was suspecting or else he’s been very not-usual from the start.

I feel like what Alastor does here with Vaggie is the first (or second if the pilot is cannon) step along a long road to desensitization.  We make him see two deals in the current timeline in the show – once to not have to fuss with the TV ever again, once for a favor where Charlie “harms no one.” 

He seems to be getting them used to making little, insignificant (or maybe significant, depending on his favor – it was very specifically worded) deals with him.  Like when you try to get close to a stray animal so inch your way towards it one step at a time.  Though in this case Alastor would probably do the biting…

I also feel like it’s very telling that Alastor didn’t bother to offer to do his whole set/costumes/crew thing when Vaggie first asked for help with the commercial.  Only when helping with the commercial was in some way beneficial to him.

Are these dude’s Alastor summons a couple of times other Sinners, or are they just fake, temporary creatures?  Does that mean that Alastor is controlling them or are they equipped with some sort of rudimentary AI that lets them perform the tasks he’s set to them?  If they are other Sinners, Husk and Niffty are out of uniform.  If they aren’t, Angel can probably keep the one he hits on later as a fancy sex toy without many moral implications.

(Alastor should give up being the Radio Demon and give Velvette a run for her money in the fashion industry.  Angel and Vaggie’s outfits in particular are *chef’s kiss*)

I hope Alastor’s closed captions staff are better than Amazon’s, though. 

Also, at some point during the flash back to the hotel, Adam has finished his pile of ribs.  I don’t know how if he never shuts up enough to let someone else get a word in edgewise.

Adam and Lute start talking about the Exterminations, and Lute mentions that she “got a good 275 this year.”  (We’ll be coming back to that number later, by the way.)

Adam seems impressed by this, telling her that was “bad-ass” and giving her a fist bump.  While calling her “danger tits.”  Lute does not, in fact, punch Adam in the face for this.  Again here Lute seems totally on board with Adam’s… Adam-ness.

She seems like some of the girls that I’ve known from school, work, etc that go out clubbing and actually will give the time of day to the guys who wear sunglasses inside and think that negging is a successful way to get women’s attention.  Lute, you are encouraging bad behavior!

But that’s not surprising since Lute is quickly revealed to be a zealot, a fanatic, an extremist. 

She hasn’t just drank the Kool-Aid, she was pouring the fruit punch flavored powder mix into the pitchers for other people to add the water to. 

(Is this because if you, personally, catch an angel making one you de-angel-ify them?

Her belief system is carved in stone, and unfortunately for Charlie and all of Hell that belief system is that Sinners double-dying is not only an acceptable thing but an excellent thing.

Lute does reveal something here that has the potential to become important later: that Lucifer made some kind of arrangement that spares the Hellborn from the exorcisms. 

Vivziepop’s other show “Helluva Boss” focuses a lot more on the Hellborn than Hazbin Hotel does (obviously, with Hazbin being focused on the redemption of Sinners.)

The Hellborn that we see/know/spend time with in Hazbin are going to include: Charlie, Keekee, Razzle, Dazzle, the Egg Boys, Fat Nuggets, and that’s pretty much it.  Everyone else aside from background characters in Hazbin – I may have missed one or two – is an open target.  I guess maybe fallen angels must also be exempt since no one is trying to go after Lucifer himself.

Lute’s words do seem to upset Charlie a bit.  “How little you matter,” she said, and it looked like a hit to Charlie’s battleship.  Which I know Charlie is a bouncy blonde ball of daddy issues at this point, but it really seems like the opposite, doesn’t it?  Like she – and the other Hellborn – were being protected.  Is Charlie upset that the exorcists aren’t coming after her because they can’t, so they don’t really care about (killing) her?  Maybe that’s just Charlie’s guilt for being exempt?

Charlie tries to explain her plans to Adam and Lute, but by this point we all know that she’s not going to succeed, right?  At least her crayon drawings are kind of cute.

“Hell is Forever” sounds like one of the songs that the youth pastors I grew up having to go hang out with every other week (divorced parents, split custody) used to make religion cool to the youngsters. 

Very Skillet, Fireflight, etc.  This ain’t your grandpappy’s religion – except the whole eternal damnation part.  Except I’m pretty sure they would have censored some of the “fucks” to let us have this one.

Adam kind of cuts through all of the divine judgement propaganda to get to the heart of things in the second verse.  This isn’t even about population control or final death or any of that – he and his exterminators just enjoy it.

 Since we find out later that no one else knows about the exterminations, I imagine that the exterminators have to be – up to a certain point, at least – on their best behavior in Heaven.  This kind of makes Extermination Day a bit like “The Purge” for exorcists. 

One day to go nuts and get it all out of their systems.  Frankly, it might be a little bit dangerous for Heaven to stop the extermination; after several thousands of years of having that release valve, if it was suddenly taken away that pressure could go pretty kaboom – and Sera won’t let that kaboom happen anywhere near her Winners.

(Charlie is right.  Where did all of these backup singers come from?  They’re gold, not full monochrome like Lute, so they’re probably not real exorcists they yanked into the meeting room from the lobby.  Adam must have a “give me a posse” button in the Heaven version of the meeting room.)

Adam’s big reveal comes right at the end of the song.  They’re moving the next Extermination Day up to six months instead of a year out.

Who approved this plan?  Did Sera sign off on this?  This seems like really bad population control practice.  The exterminations seem to already be getting worse and worse (Carmilla Carmine says specifically that this most recent extermination was brutal, with approximately 15% of the Sinner population being wiped out.) 

If they increase the pace and severity of exterminations, that’s almost a third of the population each year.

I stopped going to church a long time ago, but that number seems interesting…

Revelation 9:15: “And the four angels, who had been prepared for the hour and day and month and year, were released, so that they would kill a third of mankind.”

Revelation 9:18: “By these three plagues a third of mankind was killed, by the fire and smoke and sulfur coming out of their mouths.”

This may not mean anything.

(We'll pick up in Episode 1, Part 4 due to Tumblr's 30 images-per-post limit.)

[blues-of-randomness]

The Pasts of the Forgotten Critters/Frowny fox (rewritten)

The forgotten critters were all part of different collections, paired with a smiling critter that was supposed to be part of the same collections.

Dogday, Catnap, Hoppy hopscotch, and Silly Shelly were part of the Pet collection

Jerry Giraffe, Clever Claws and Bubba Bubbaphant were part of Safari collection (In my au Bubba is an Indian Elephant but I could see Playtime co trying to sell my off as an African elephant thinking people wouldn't tell the difference)

Kickinchicken, Picky Piggy, and Molly Mc Moo were part of the farm collection

Craftycorn and Jolly jaws were paired up in a fantasy collection as Jolly wasn't any ordinary shark, he was supposed to be a Megaladon.

and finally Bobby and Frowny were made as a set for a Wild things collection (hence why their pendants are almost identical)

Their purposes and stories within the cartoons:

Jerry was going to be a love interest for Craftycorn. The two of them were paired up with the image of two shy souls who barely fit into the world coming together and changing each other for the better. Jerry was an expert at measuring, he could even guess how tall something was without needing a ruler. This, Without saying, was very useful for Crafty's art projects

Clever claws was smart but he was also dazzling, attractive, and oh so cool, everything that Bubba lacked. While Bubba was shown to get picked on and teased for not fitting in, Clever claws was able to mask himself and fit in with the crowd. He even tried to teach Bubba how to mask and fit in with the crowd but whenever Bubba tried it was met with failure, he did everything Clever claws did but it wasn't enough. Clever claws knew this and it wasn't fair, he became Bubba's best friend and taught him there was nothing to be ashamed of even if no one liked him.

Jolly jaws and Kickinchicken were paired as a playful duo, Jolly jaws was just as adventurous as Kickinchicken but he was more in favor of being save while doing (hence why a lifesafer is his pendant) While Kickin was more or less about being reckless and having fun. He teased Jolly jaws about being safe, calling him a coward, etc. One day the two of them had a surfing contest but during the surfing Kickin was knocked off his surfboard, Jolly jaws was happy until he realized that Kickin never resurfaced. He quickly dove under the surface and rescused Kickin from a watery grave. That's when Kickin really learned about the importance safety.

Molly Mc Moo's purpose in was to teach about how there needs to be a balance within someones life when i came to something they enjoy. In this case it was teaching Picky Piggy there was nothing to be ashamed of when it came to her love of Pb&J sandwhiches even if it wasn't healthy because Picky had control over herself and cared about her healthy. As long as she kept that up there was nothing wrong with a little treat now and then

Shelly and Hoppy were paired together as competitive opposites situation. Their story was supposed to be a parody of the tortoise and the hare. The two would race but Hoppy would hurt herself going so fast and Shelly would help her out teaching her that sometimes slower is better.

And finally Frowny was a fox who was hurt and bullied all his life. Then he met Bobby and she showed him what love is and how to be happy despite all the pain he's been through

Reasons for rejection:

The kids weren't impressed with Clever claws, some of the older girls thought he was a typical "self centered prince charming" and the kids thought that Jerry looked weird and made fun of him.

Similar reasons for Frowny fox, the kids hated how he smelled and saw no point in having a "Sad toy".

The kids were scared of Jolly jaws because he was a shark they tried removing his teeth but he looked too silly without them.

There was nothing wrong with Milly MC moo its just that Kickin and Picky were more popular so Molly was thrown away

Silly Shell was playing on the swings with Hoppy when he fell off, he retreated into his shell but it cracked and shattered upon impact with the ground. Shelly was deemed too hazardous for the children.

Without Molly and Shelly they could still have pet and Farm sets but they saw no point in realising Bobby, Bubba and Crafty on their own so they were all combined into the smiling critters we know today.

As time past the critters had moved on from their lost companions and forgot about them, not because they didn't care about them, it was more of a "I thought you were dead" type of forgetting

[youremyheaven]

I don’t think all venusians are bad but I also had a share of bad experiences with them. I don’t know if I should drag the women or the men first. I’d talk about the women first because they’re in my family and it’s a more neutral point of view than hate or a one time experience. My purva ashada stellium grandmother used to starve her children too and is extremely cheap. Tbh I don’t think she has a bad relationship with her daughters. She seems to get along with them pretty well. However my mom who’s purva phalguni moon has similar behavior as the previous ano. She’s very jealous and envious of other women constantly comparing herself to other women and she needs to be the “best looking” among others. Otherwise she lose her mind. She’s very image conscious and she’s a complete different person with strangers or my friends. She wants to be seen as the cool mom. She also assumes every single man she interacts with has some sort of romantic interest in her. She also says phrases like “you’ll never be as attractive as used to be” like even if It was true and I was a walking troll she shouldn’t be saying this to her daughter ? I also find it weird how every single Venusian woman I talk to is extremely fake ? Like they’re obsessed with status and want to be seen as higher or richer than what they actually are. They love to see people beneath them. They strive to be the best in that way. They’re very superficial and they would definitely befriend someone or be around someone for the aesthetic or for what they could get from them. They would take shamelessly from people without giving back and when you called them out they be like “I didn’t ask you to” when they truly did pressure you into it. I think for men, most Venusian men I met, they would be very polite, kind helpful and try to please me as much as possible. Like they would get interested in my hobbies and try to get close to me with some hidden intention or purpose to it. When I don’t get fooled by their act, it’s almost as their mask drops and I see another version of them that is much cruel and mean ? It’s like they want to “punish” you. They would paint themselves as the victim because you didn’t give them what they wanted or desired from you. Whatever that is. They would tarnish your reputation or come for you in settings. Now, I don’t think I had many Venusian friends (only 2 ) that are woman but they both would lie and act as if they’re “rich” even if they’re not and I already know they’re not and I don’t even care because I never bring such things up.

💀💀💀u have described so many people i know, its crazyyy,, one girl i went to college with who had Saturn in Bharani atmakaraka was just like u described. she was upper middle class at best but she wanted to be seen as rich so bad?? she'd insert random details to make herself sound 🤑🤑she spoke about how much she spent on clothes even tho she always wore the same stuff on repetition?? (im not being a hater, her comments always just made no sense??) she'd talk about how her family only fed their dog specially bought meat and it was just ??? i hated the way she spoke about money and same goes for another Venusian girlie i know, she wont shut up about money and always exaggerates for good effect?? its so cringe to me ngl. theyre also the type of people who want to put others down to feel better about themselves. I think Venusians in general don't like it when someone tries to imply that they're on the same "level" so they always put others down to establish superiority. every Venusian woman I know is arrogant and conceited in some ways. one time the atmakaraka chick told me that her dad bought her a new car and i was like ok good for you? and she always spoke about how its her car when it was actually just a new car for the fam after they disposed off the old one?? lol?

one time my friends and i were eating out and a really cute kid (5-6 yr old girl) and her mom came in, all my friends said that the kid resembled me quite a bit and the Bharani ak girl said "yeah she's chubby like you" 🤡🤡🤡first of all the kid wasn't "chubby" by a long shot, and even if she was who tf says that about a 5yr old??? she just wanted to establish dominance? and did not like the fact that others thought we resembled each other lmao?? what a complete asshole, imagine insulting a literal child and your friend?? Venusian women do not like it when other women seem to have the upper hand in any way. They are not girls girls, i have said this before and i'll say it again Venusians are the OG "im not like other girls" girl.

im so sorry you went through all that anon. i wish you healing and peace<3

[kubrik-was-a-c-nt]

Finally watching Spiral! Considering I spend a lot of time thinking about the Saw series I should have watched this a long time ago.

Onto reactions!

Ew, the two things I hate most: sewers, and public port-a-potties. I loath using port-a-potties.

Oooh, updated realistic pig mask! I like!

Ah, the tongue trap I've seen in so many thumbnails. It's even worse when you see hes hanging by his tongue over some kind of flimsy little stool.

Going back to the old box TVs? Must have raided a goodwill.

New voice sounds weird, not sure if I'm okay with it. You'll see.

Okay, pretty iconic sequence right off the bat. Super uncomfortable looking trap, good buildup, lots of blood. A real saw movie.

My rebuttal to Chris Rock's rant about Forrest Gump is that Jenny did not ask Forrest to do any of that and... oh shit, it's the po-po. But I guessed Rock was a cop from the promotional material but this was a good reveal.

So 12 years ago was the Saw 6 and 7 era. That was a time where people would have wanted dirty cops turned in. Hoffman was on a fucking killing spree, gotta nip them in the bud.

It's nice to know that if my dead body was ever found, the cops would immediately take me seriously because my fitbit would tell them that I'm not unhoused.

Jigsaw used an old ass tv in the trap but a USB stick for the video. I guess it's near impossible to find any tapes or tape players.

Putting bad cops in traps... I like this.

That box that guys tongue, isnt it? Yep.

"Damn n**** wash your hands" she told him to get out, he can use hand sanitizer.

Wow, such realism. Someone turns in a cop doing bad things and now they're the bad guy. It's almost like the cops are protecting bad cops.

Is this the first time we meet a victims wife or family member after their death? No one usually gives a shit about them. Good expansion.

"I heard about Boz. You alright?" "No, I'm all fucked up". First time I've seen someone fully admit to being distraught over the death of a friend.

"Dont drain my battery watching Twilight" what is this, 2009??? Wait, is this 2009?! Is this like Jigsaw where- oh wait, they just showed them with smartphones, my bad.

I forgot to turn in subtitles, they make watching movies so much easier for me. And now I can spell everyones names right.

You're looking for a copycat of Jigsaw, the guy who kidnaps and tortures 'bad' people, and you walk into an abandoned building alone? You deserve to die now. The message from earlier even specified that they were going after crooked cops.

Oooh, this trap looks interesting. I havent seen any images of it before.

Zeke, stop trying to ruin other peoples marriages. Not everyone needs to be as miserable as you.

Tip your delivery driver!

DONT FUCKING TOUCH THE BOX AND USB BOX WITHOUT GLOVES. ITS FUCKING EVIDENCE.

I see, the pig theme is being used to mock the police here.

TOUCHING EVIDENCE WITHOUT GLOVES. AGAIN.

OH NOW YOU PUT THEM ON

And now I see it, all the cops that hate Zeke are also bad cops. It's almost like the force is full of bad cops and when the one good cop turns one in, they get ostracized.

I'm trying to see the point of the cage on Fitch's head. Maybe to keep him from chewing through the wires around his fingers.

I know someone who almost lost her finger during an archaeological dig. An accident with a sawhorse I think. She still can't watch hand trauma scenes.

"John Kramer didn't target cops" Eric Matthews, Rigg, Straum, Perez, Carrie... Hoffman only got involved because of his fake trap.

Okay, what is Banks Sr out doing?

ZEKE! GLOVES!

Dont you have bomb sniffing dogs? Have one take a whiff, easy.

It's the skin from someones head- SCHENK. I LIKED YOU.

Wait, theres always a mole in these movies, someone on the inside pulling strings. Schenk is new, too new to have done anything too corrupt. The only way to positively identify the body would be with dental records. That might take a minute to obtain and analyze.

Okay, I may have seen a small spoiler a few months ago about who is the mole, but I cant positively remember if it was Schenk or not.

They must be raiding antique stores now to get these tape players.

'Sever your spine or get covered in hot wax'? Really thinking outside the box here.

One killer to make a diversion, one to trap Angie? Banks Sr and Schenk working together?

I'm going to be totally wrong and suckerpunched out of left field, arent I?

Yes, he is too close to this. He needs to be taken off the case and given a horse tranquilizer.

WAIT THE FIRST SMARTPHONES CAME OUT IN 2007. THIS COULD BE 2009. I forgot to pay attention to anything that could date the time period.

Banks Sr walked into that one... literally.

As a cop, you should be trained to pick a handcuffs lock, just because. Oh wait, do you know how to pick handcuffs? Holy shit, you have a useful skill.

Oh, hi Pete. I guess someone stole Pete's badge and password to erase the footage. Zeke should have realized that Pete would not have walked into the police station with everyone knowing who he is.

I guess we are in a recycling plant?

Zeke just jumps in and starts helping. See, Jeff? I mean, Pete is bleeding out the mouth so hes 100% dead but Zeke did his best.

Yay, Schenk is alive!

CHARLIE

Wait, wouldnt they have noticed that the tattoo was fresh? Fresh tattoos look different from healed ones. Schenk's tattoo is healed and old.

You know you die waaaaay before all 1.5 gallons are drained.

HE MADE HIM INTO A PUPPET

Oh hey, this was Bousman? Nice to see you back in the saddle. Great quality work this time.

Holy shit, I'm feeling super emotional. Great use of the Saw theme at the end there, great payoff to everything. I literally said 'pulling the strings' earlier without realizing how true it is.

I say this is a great offshoot to the Saw storyline. John Kramer is not involved, he only inspired the killing spree. The title is great because Schenk leaned into the spiral motif to emphasize a symbol used by Jigsaw that was not Billy. 'From the book of Saw' is giving me 'Cult of John Kramer' vibes, which I like. It shows how he was so influential as a serial killer who targeted 'bad' people in an attempt to reform them that other people began to copy him. I can see so many others trying to be the next Jigsaw. Of course, Schenk did all of this for personal reasons to seek revenge. Besides Cecil, Kramer actually wanted people to survive and be reformed. I dont think Hoffman cared if people won or lost, but he still made all the traps survivable. One step up from Amanda.

I'm now super interested to see where Saw X takes us. Saw in spaaaaace? Smashing someones face with liquid nitrogen? Uber-Jason?

[skydigiblogs]

i totally forgot to even mention that i read through all of digimon next, i think bfhjsdbfjhsdbfs

i mean i also didn't mention reading through all of v-tamer but i feel much less negatively about v-tamer than i did about digimon next

i can go into more detail if people want i guess but at the end of the day i think you're gonna need to go into next with more critical thinking pants than v-tamer (which i would argue requires maybe only critical thinking shorts), and that has to do in main part with two very large parts of their plot.

this is gonna be long (but i mean, that's what you come to this blog for lol), and, unfortunately, i have a lot of not-so-fun gripes with digimon next.

characters with disability (and how that disability is portrayed or discussed)

train kid yuu's disability is functionally cured in the digital world, and a large part of his arc has to do with him getting the courage to have heart surgery. i don't think this was handled with the kind of nuance that could have made him more interesting to me, especially with yuu calling himself a "weakling" at one point (internalized ableism is a thing, but i don't think it was written well with yuu).

folks familiar with v-tamer might ask me what i think about rei, and i feel similarly that it's a little weird to have a disabled character lose their disability in the digital world. however, i at least like that rei seemed to acknowledge it beyond mentioning surgery to get rid of it, and multiple times it was mentioned that despite being able to use her legs, she had no feeling at all in them while in the digital world.

neither of these portrayals are particularly good pieces of representation, and signify to me that the authors really didn't know how to fit someone with disabilities into their story without it being for the purpose of angst.

barbamon

barbamon just. is a whole essay i don't want to write at the moment because of how extremely antis*mitic its design is. if you don't know what i mean, look at barbamon's mask. guess what? look at barbamon's concept art, too. that huge nose is a mask in the final design, but the fact that at one point the demon lord of greed was considered to have that be its actual nose is uhhhh.

bandai what can i say but yiiiikes.

digimon next had an uphill battle the entire time almost entirely thanks to picking barbamon as its antagonist. when you use an antis*mitic caricature as your antagonist, it's going to be really hard not to pull on antis*mitic tropes, too! or at least, that's what it really felt like with next, considering barbamon's whole plan is literally some great r*placement theory "kill all non-aligned digimon and control birth itself" bullshit.

while destroying/conquering the digital world is textbook digimon antagonist bullshit (every series has one), the elements and aesthetic of barbamon in next particularly bothered me because they really do not reflect well when paired together.

i'll remind you too that barbamon in next has a notably militaristic army in "the commandments." this also isn't foreign in digimon--- a few years after next, we would see troopmon in bagramon's army, as an example. but like, again, one of these antagonist leader digimon is a caricature.

i am assigning homework for anyone who read(s) next, and that is some literature on antis*mitism and what it looks like in media.

"sky, if you hated next so much, why are you posting about it?"

first off: because it's my blog and i can, lol

second off: because i wanted that sweet sweet yggy lore

as much as i have my issues with digimon next, i think it introduced some very fun tools that could be built upon. yggdrasil, and the fact it just sent its girlsona to the human world because it was worried humans didn't like digimon enough? EXTREMELY funny on paper, yes, but also a fascinating idea!

in next, we see that yggy is able to detach its consciousness from its core, and i think it would be fun to see that explored further. what if, instead of someone external taking control of the core, we see something similar to, say, a split (yes i'm bringing plurality into this). that's to say, yggy mitosises off its girlsona or something, cloning its consciousness to assess the situation beyond its core's reach. yggy core and yggysona, however, are split up because yggysona needs to go collect data. what if there was conflict between yggy core and yggysona because the data retrieved just doesn't make sense with the data yggy core started with?

furthermore, we see some interesting ideas with yggy's kernel, where it's guarded by a magnaangemon (who we see both fall and quite easily reclaim their status as magnaangemon). the implications of this are that yggy can sometimes be the god that angel digimon serve, and that it is possible for fallen angel digimon to become unfallen.

and then next drops NEO on us, calls it "a power beyond yggy" AND REFUSES TO ELABORATE? NO, GET THE FUCK BACK HERE, WHAT DO YOU MEAN GOD IS MADE OUT OF THE COLLECTED MEMORIES OF DIGIMON SPECIES? that's such a cool concept to me (and i am also a sucker for chimera characters, so uhhh), especially read with a metaphorical lens. like. the idea of god being our experiences has endless thematic storytelling potential in a series that is all about its characters Having Emotional Experiences.

anyways uh

digimon next, huh?

[i-may-be-an-emu]

TW: DEPICTION OF AN AUTISTIC MELTDOWN AND TALK OF MASKING AND BREAKING STUFF AS A RESULT OF STIMMING

See this:

This is Reggie ^ (credit to reggie peters fan wiki for the photo which I think I edited to look nice idk i cant remember but credit to whoevers photo this is)

ANYWAY

I love him. I love him very much. Am I projecting onto him? Yes, very much so.

He and luke are some of my comfort charichters (I love Alex too tho, so so much) and all of the boys are so autistic/nuerodivergent coded as well as being incredibly gay-coded (I mean alex is actually canonly gay but let's be real all of the characters in this are all Not Straight/Not Cis.)

ANYWAY IM GETTING OFF TRACK.

SEE THIS:

I AM CONVINCED THAT THIS IS CHEWLREY.

It HAS to be.

1000%

I mean check it out:

I mean litterally- it',s almost exactly the same. And the string is covered in beads, also for stimming.

My two theories are:

Reggie always chewed on his bass picks and for his 15th birthday or something alex and Luke got him the necklace for him to have something else to chew on because reggie was always without a pick or stealing their or snapping them in his teeth and having to get new ones. He's really grateful for it but doesn't wear it to their concerts so that fans and strangers don't think he's weird. So when he dies without it on he's really upset that he's not going to have it for the rest of his afterlife, and when the boys find the clothes in the loft he's so exited and puts it on right away.

[EDIT: I've checked and he was wearing it in the opening scene of episode 1, meaning he died in it :( I still think its a sweet idea tho]

(Very plausible seeing as though I used to chew on my guitar pick and only stopped because it broke and now I have no guitar pick and no chewlry.)

OR:

Reggie was trying to mask his autism from Julie because he was scared of what she'd think and stuff and it made him really stressed and he started chewing on everything- his pencils, his guitar picks, his sleeves, his cutlery, EVERYTHING. But hiding all that from Julie was exhausting and so in the end he stopped stimming alltogether and not doing it made him overload and have a meltdown. Alex and Luke sprung into action and helped Reggie through it, he went non-speaking but nodded when Alex asked him if he and Luke could explain what had happened to Julie. She's really understanding and apologises for not knowing what to do. When Reggie gets his voice back he says his favourite stim aside from playing bass is chewing and said that if she was grossed out by it he would warn her before doing it so she could leave the room or something. Instead she buys the chewlrey for him and he never takes it off.

Or as a third theory he couldve gotten it as a kid as a gift from his parents if they weren't as bad as fanfiction and theories say they are.

But yeah. That's chewlrey. Litterally looks like chewlrey.

[rozzy02]

Begiinigns part three

Word count: 1614

A/N: the weird cave time, I'll have the fourth and final part up sometime in a few days or so.

“It’s supposed to be just up here” Dylan said. It was starting to get colder and Jennie was glad to be in jeans as Vera looked like she was shivering a bit. The sun had nearly set and the cicadas were as loud as always. Lo and behold there was a small cave entrance blocked off by police tape, Jennie’s curiosity was sufficiently peaked.

“We should try to just go under it” She said approaching the cave entrance, “it’d be better if no one ever knew we were here.”

“Y-yeah, I’ll keep watch and shout if it looks like anyone is coming this way” Dylan said, having gone completely pale in the face. 

“What’s wrong, ya scared?” Vera said, sneaking up behind him, scaring the shit out of him.

“N-no, just don't like it here, besides a guy alone with four pretty girls, who knows what could happen?” He said, being immediately met with loud gagging from all the girls. Jennie felt like she could really throw up.

“Let’s quit stalling and see what the hype is about, worst case we find a stoner den or something” Billie said making her way through the police tape into the cave. Vera followed immediately after and Klove behind her.

“Be careful, okay?” Dylan said as Jennie went inside. 

It was cold and dark in the mouth of the cave. It was also quite wet, for lack of a better term. Billie was goofing off and jumping from rock to rock, Vera following behind. Klove hung back with Jennie, looking uneasy about how far the tunnel seemed to stretch. 

“We don’t have a flashlight, how are we supposed to see?” Klove hesitantly asked.

“I’ve got a lighter” Billie pulled hers out, flicking it on. It was branded from a convenience store, she’d probably stolen it. Jennie giggled at them a little as she pulled out her phone and turned on its much more efficient flashlight. Vera laughed too, seeming to have also had the thought.

“That would make more sense,” Billie said, putting her lighter away, blushing. They walked for a few minutes before Billie’s hopping around, in fact, ended badly. She slipped on a wet rock and landed hard on her knee, making a horrible crunching noise.

“Fuck me that hurt” She said trying to get up. Klove went over to lend her a strong arm up.

“We should probably go back that sounded bad” Jennie said, noticing blood on the rock.

“I’m fiiine, go on without me, I’m desperate to know what’s at the end of this” Billie said flashing her signature smile, trying to put on the brave mask Jennie always saw through. 

“You sure, Bills?” Jennie asked, her curiosity also finally peaked with this strange place. Billie nodded in the affirmative and found a larger boulder to sit on.

“I’ll rest a bit then head back out to Dylan” She reassured.

So, they continued on, leaving Billie in the cold and wet corridor. They walked for much further this time before they saw light in the distance. Vera took the front this time, hurrying ahead. Before long she was nearly out of sight and had entered a small cavern. 

“Woah, guys check this out!” Vera’s disembodied voice said. Klove and Jennie continued at their pace, when they entered the small cavern, they were met with beautiful runes lining the cave walls. The appeared to be alit by flame, but when Vera curiously ran her hand over one, she was not burnt. The room was covered with them and Vera was mesmerized. 

“I’m going to get photos of all of these, you guys keep going on, I should be done by the time you get back.” Vera said, almost seeming hypnotized by the glowing script. Jennie staggered behind Klove hesitant at leaving another friend behind, as soon as Vera spoke, Klove moved to continue deeper in the cave. Jennie followed her, a bit perplexed at her sense of urgency.

“Klove, what’s the rush?” Jennie said, following close behind.

“I think I hear an opening deeper in, I’m hoping it’ll get us out of here faster” She said carefully moving deeper and deeper down into the cave. Jennie knew there was no way this led outside, the geography wouldn’t make sense. But Klove would turn around if Jennie told her that, and Jennie really didn’t want to go the rest of the way on her own. They continued on for a little while longer when the cramped corridor began to open up, they approached a massive forest within the cave.

“What the-” Klove began. From their vantage point a bit higher on the path they could see nearly everything, their were more runes but they were wooden and almost seemed to be grown into the trees. There was a cliff above them, and Jennie had the overwhelming urge to climb to its peak, she would just need to cross this underground forest. There even appeared to be natural light coming from the roof of the massive cavern. Jennie began down the path, focused on getting to that cliff.

“Jen, slow down!” Klove yelled. But Jennie could not and would not slow down. She beckoned Klove to catch up but made no attempt to accommodate her friend's speed. Jennie did not know why but she needed to get to that peak, needed to get to whatever was up there. Behind her Jennie heard Klove yell and fall to the floor of the forest. This broke Jennie temporarily from her trance, she turned around to see Klove on the ground in pain with a scraped knee. She appeared to be fine, but her eyes bored into Jennie.

“Jennie we need to go” She yelled as she got up, but Jennie turned to continue on, not responding.

“I’m turning around! I’m going home, this place gives me the hibbie jeebies, you should come with me!” Klove yelled as she walked away. Jennie was on her own, she watched Klove disappear in the brush. Jennie continued on, she had too. She felt like if she didn’t she would die. She began to climb the steep path up to the mountain, she wished there were a handrail. As she reached the top she was breathing heavily, or should have been at least. Jennie saw beautiful willow trees and lavender lining a stone path leading to a pedestal with a glass ball atop a purple velvet pillow. Jennie could hear the loud breeze over the forest, her fear of heights was both tamed and worsened by the absurdly high cliff. 

“Let me out, please” a voice in Jennie’s head begged. It had an Irish accent and felt distinctly feminine and almost smokey. The 15-year-old cautioned forwarded and dared a glance into the orb. It was a mistake, Jennie immediately became further hypnotized, she saw scores of men fighting, kings, war, blood, death. It was horrible. Jennie reached out to the orb, wanting to help it not be so… angry? She couldn’t place its emotion. Slowly her hands inched closer and closer and when she finally grasped it, she felt a powerful surge of emotion overwhelm her as she fell back on the ground, shattering the orb.

“Thank you” Jennie heard the same voice again, but louder she heard an earthquake. They shouldn’t happen in Virginia, and the timing couldn’t be a coincidence. Jennie snapped back to reality, running down the side of the cliff nearly falling as she began to slide down the steep slope. The cave was caving in behind her. She bolted as fast as she could through the forest, she caught up to Klove who had nearly made it back to Vera. Jennie said nothing as she grabbed Klove’s hand and dragged her up the corridor. They made it back to the opening with the runes, and Jennie briefly noticed they began to weep, what almost looked like blood. Jennie grabbed Vera too and kept running like her life depended on it. Jennie was fast, for her height, she did track and was a trained sprinter, so out running the cave in was second nature to her. They made it back to the room where Billie was and bolted outside, the final bit of rubble just missing Klove’s leg.

“Oh my god, are you three okay???” Billie yelled from her position on a lonely stump. 

“Y-yeah think so, Where’d Dylan go?” Jennie asked, trying to catch her breath.

“You morons were in there hours, he had to get home, I promised him I’d wait, but my knee fucking hurts” Billie flinched as her hand grazed it. 

“Jesus fuck, we should get you to a doctor” Vera said, seeing how it was bent in an unnatural way. Jennie couldn’t believe that Dylan would leave Billie like this, she made a mental note to chew him a new one when she saw him next. 

“Here let me carry you” Klove said, going over and picking up Billie who stifled a scream at the movement. The four wordlessly made their way to Jennie’s apartment on the other side of town. Hopefully Jennie’s brother, Stephan, would be home and he could take Billie to the hospital. He was the least likely to tell Billie’s parents what she had been up to that night. Billie’s dad was a mean drunk, her mom a meaner one. They only gave Billie and her twin any attention when they either wanted something or needed a punching bag to let off steam too. Jennie saw how tough Billie tried to be, so no one ever knew how scared she was. They made it back and Jennie noticed her brother’s car and not her mom’s. She grew hopeful.

[being-of-rain]

A torrent of random thoughts from my Classic Who watch, this time the first half of season 20.

I don’t know what fandom wisdom says abut Arc of Infinity (fandom wisdom isn’t something I give a lot of credit to anyway), but I’m not really a bit fan. The story structure is so weird, having a plot going on in Amsterdam and the Gallifreyan Capitol that don’t converge apart from the odd phone call until the final part. That said, the scene were the attack on the Tardis is intercut with the boys sleeping uneasily in a crypt was delightfully gothic. But apart from the production team once again taking as many opportunities as possible to show off their overseas location filming, most of the story was some rather dull Gallifreyan politics. It definitely felt like the Doctor should’ve ended up on Earth sooner. Nyssa almost feels like a new character with all the focus she’s forced to get when she’s the Doctor’s only companion. I don’t think she was written or acted as emotionally before she is when the Doctor is in danger on Gallifrey. Plus, it was cool to see her go on a killing spree (or stunning spree, whatever), which is a visual which sticks out in my mind when I think about this story. It’s cool to see Tegan investigating things on her own too, and cute to see the two companions happy to meet up at the end, even if the Doctor is hilariously but obviously annoyed at her rejoining them. That adds to my theory that he kinda left Tegan behind on purpose last story, an action that for some reason goes unaddressed and unexplained, but honestly it was probably good for Tegan to get some time to grieve Adric without the Doctor forcing her to repress everything. Do I just not like the Fifth Doctor? No, I think I just don’t like it when main characters have flaws that go so blatantly ignored. It’s nice to get a Leela reference and a Romana reference! I know the Doctor must have friends on Gallifrey, but it feels weird that Damon and Hedin are treated almost like characters we should know. Maybe it feels particularly weird because the story goes so unnecessarily hard on the ‘good guys are actually the bad guys’ fake-out. Also, some truly weird and unbelievable statistics are pulled out about the Time Lords. I know it feels extra weird now with all the EU content out there, but even for just the show thus far they felt silly. A Tardis recall circuit has apparently only been used twice before in Time Lord history. A Time Lord has only been destroyed (legally executed, presumably?) once before. And Borusa says “You know that capital punishment has long been abolished here in Gallifrey.” Didn’t the Doctor literally get put on death row previously in The Deadly Assassin?? Any other random points? Well, I don’t like to nitpick- no that’s not true, everyone likes to nitpick. I don’t like to let nickpicking ruin my enjoyment, but if a story brings up so many small points that it doesn’t satisfactorily answer, it starts to weigh it down. What exactly is the Ergon? How does the Doctor know about it and its name? What does the Ergon’s gun do to Tegan- teleport her dramatically? If so, why doesn’t it do the same to the Ergon later? The Ergon in general just looked funny enough to kind of ruin the aesthetic of the crypt scenes, sorry, which is a shame because the crypt aesthetic was one of the only things the story had going for it for me. I don’t know where ‘the spacetime element’ is an interesting or bad name for a piece of the Tardis console. Similarly, I don’t know whether I like the title Arc of Infinity- it’s a good title, but the arc is something that isn’t explained very well and doesn’t really have a large part in the story. Is there a little cafe on a walkway of the Capitol? Fun. And everyone talks about “No not the mind probe,” but nobody talks about the even flatter delivery of “Impulse laser?” near the start of this story from a guy who is about to be shot by an impulse laser. Finally, Omega himself looks great when he takes off his mask- gotta love Peter Davison in a black turtleneck. But things take such a turn in the last 10 minutes of the story. Omega has a quick scene where he simply enjoys some organ music and the view of a canal. It adds such a (sudden) tragic element to him, of a man who just wants to live in the real world again. Which is amplified when his final scene is played (again suddenly) extremely gritty, with the Doctor having to shoot him and cause his apparently agonising death. The last-minute tone shift is even more jarring when the show feels like it immediately chickens out on it, with the Doctor almost immediately after saying Omega might not be dead then ending the episode on a light-hearted note. I don’t often criticise the genius of author Nev Fountain, but I can’t help but feel he missed some obvious hooks there in his sequel audio Omega, in which Omega suddenly wants to return to his antimatter universe and leave the real one behind.

Snakedance! I think it’s not quite as good as Kinda, but it’s still really good! The way it creates a very believable and relatable world is so neat (maybe helped by my own interest in archaeology and ancient history studies which is represented in this). There’s always very realistic dialogue and acting. The plot is a little slower and more meandering than Kinda, and it’s a shame Tegan isn’t in it more (a downside Kinda shared). I don’t really have as much to say about the themes of this one like I did with the previous Mara story, though I’m sure they’re there. I’m left with just things to list off that I liked about the story. Part one has another fantastic cliffhanger, made better by the Fifth Doctor theme tune. Some of the Mara moments are genuinely unnerving, like Lon talking with Tegan’s voice. Lon is a great character, and I wish he was in more of it without being possessed tbh. But I did like how sometimes the Mara possessed people, and sometimes it likes to play on the temptations of people in order to manipulate them. I also liked the creepy moment that the carnival man is standing still in the dark cave to surprise someone, with the added irony that that’s what he suggested Tegan do at his hall of mirrors earlier. There’s a lot of altered states in this one; dreams, the sound machine, the snake poison, possession. And the use of sound could be very striking. The cutting between the noise of the ceremony and the calm of the Doctor meditating with Dojjen is very striking. And the same things with the fucking killer ending which goes from the intensity of the Mara trying to manifest to the silent horror of everyone recovering from it, followed by the end credits screaming in before you barely get a moment to process it all. I’m still not sure if I love it or not, but it sure as heck leaves an impression.

I spent ages looking for Mawdryn Undead and Terminus without the optional CGI special effects that were included on the DVD, because for some reason they’re hard to find online. I don’t know why people would prefer those versions: to me the old practical methods and less sophisticated special effects are not only part of the charm, but part of the original production and storytelling. It’s the same reason I enjoy the original versions of the Star Wars films rather than the many re-edits. Not so much because I’m a purist (at least I hope not), but because I like watching these things as products of their historical times as well as for their stories. Besides, the added CGI effects can often break my suspension of disbelief more than bad practical effects (even if it’s good CGI, which is not guaranteed) because it simply doesn’t look like it fits with the rest of the show. Also, literally who would want to watch Mawdryn Undead without the eye-wateringly horrendous original ‘80s training video effect behind Turlough and the Black Guardian when they make their dark deal. The new effect is the most boring thing ever and actually looks halfway good. Get that shit outtahere.

ANYWAY. Mawdryn Undead is a story of many different tones for me. This bit will mostly be me listing off random things in the story in roughly chronological order. The first episode almost felt like it could be a pantomime, though that’s probably mostly because of the Black Guardian in all his crow-headed glory, and the sometimes hysterical background music. If you haven’t watched the scene in the first few minutes when Turlough steals and then crashes the Brigadier’s car, please god look it up. Bloody iconic. It’s hilarious watching how quickly and thoroughly Turlough throws Hippo under the bus for stealing the car, but very satisfying for me personally who wants more deeply flawed and antagonistic companions. Also, my longest-running DnD character is called Hippo, so hearing the name bandied about felt so weird jsldkfj. It was kind of surprising how rude the Brig could be to students, but maybe that’s just what you’d expect to hear at a British public school. Considering how the Black Guardian pretended to have pure intentions, it was also kind of surprising to hear him shout “In the name of all that is evil!” at the end of the episode, but again maybe that’s just what you’d expect to hear at a British public school. I started vibing with the story way more than I expected when it became the Brigadier recounting to the Doctor the events of 6 years ago, which was when the Doctor’s present companions met him, and for the audience both plots were unwinding simultaneously. I love that kind of plotting in a time travel story. Makes it extremely satisfying to follow when the plots effect each other and weave together (eg when the Brigadier says he remembers the Tardis leaving without him, when actually his past self didn’t see that happen until part four). I also liked how the Doctor figures out something’s up with Turlough very quickly and takes a moment to show that he disapproves, but still keeps him around anyway. I imagine it’s a mix of wanting Turlough where he can see him, and wanting to help him. Speaking of what Turlough has going on, is it just me who thought it wasn’t made very clear that he’s an alien in his first story? There’s maybe a few lines that suggest it, and it was obviously the plan from the beginning since the following stories reference it, but honestly if I went into this not knowing he was an alien I’m not sure I would’ve figured it out by the end of this one. Why would Tegan and Nyssa assume that the burnt figure they find is the Doctor? It’s a kinda fun mistaken identity plot that adds to the many moving parts of this story, but obviously the burnt figure was imagined to be a lot harder to identify in the script. But I don’t mind too much when it’s followed up by Tegan’s healthy scepticism in the face of Nyssa’s panicked belief, and the Brigadier’s hesitant attempts to keep both sides happy. Tegan’s honestly very on point in this story. Watching through her episodes make me feel like she gets flanderised a bit in the audios as an argumentative woman who can’t follow a sci-fi plot. As time goes on, she’s shown a lot to be an extremely competent companion in the face of the Doctor’s adventures: see also Earthshock. The backhalf of the story gets a bit bogged down with everyone wandering around Mawdryn’s spaceship. Makes me feel like this would’ve been a very tight three-parter. But it is hilarious that there’s like half a dozen different factions with their own goals, and literally all of them want the past Brigadier to leave. So he spends ages getting shuffled round and out of the way, but he still ends up doing exactly what nobody wanted him to do at the end. The brigadiers creating their own temporal energy is a clever way to end the plot, but the fact that they coincidentally do it at the exact microsecond they needed to feels a bit too contrived. It feels like this could’ve been one of the best plots in Classic Who with just a few tweaks. Finally, the moral dilemma in this story is very interesting, but the Doctor’s response to it is even more so. It’s never brought up that killing Mawdryn’s crew is what he objects to, only that he doesn’t want to sacrifice his own future regenerations. He repeatedly objects to that aspect, and specifically phrases it as the end of him as a Time Lord. Could you say something about the Doctor preaching against the superiority of his people but then hesitating to give up their benefits? Maybe link it to this Doctor’s rather old world British aesthetic? I’m sure there’s other ways you could look at this situation too, since it’s such a complex moral issue.

[unoriginalmess]

A Second Mask: Chapter 4

Did that just happen?

Hello guys! It's me. I'm finally writing again. Sorry about the delay. I'm going to explain more at the end of the chapter, but I'm just going to keep the beginning short. So here is chapter 4:

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

To say Adrien was concerned would be a huge understatement. He was downright disturbed. Its been weeks and still Marinette hadn't changed back to the happy, peppy, nice girl that he knew. AND SHE WOULDN'T EVEN TALK TO HIM ABOUT IT!

He tried to talk to her for a whole week after her original trasformation, but after the repeated firm rejections, he stopped altogether. He figured that maybe with some space, she might be able to work through whatever she was going through, but at this point, he's losing hope.

When he is feeling this distressed about something, he usually turns to his lady, but she has been acting weird too. Ever since she suggested they start sparring, she's started to show that she is going through kinda a rough time as well. She is the same ladybug when everyone is watching, but when it's just the two of them, she looks sad and tired. She has also started saying some concerning things while they are sparring. She has started talking about how she has started taking being Ladybug and the Guardian more seriously, and how she has less distractions now, which would be a good thing if she didn't say them so sadly.

The good thing is, the sparring has given him a chance to get out his aggression because of the whole Marinette-situation and his anger at his father in a safe environment. He didn't like the idea of hitting Ladybug at first (especially in the face) but with her not holding back on her hits, he felt more comfortable doing the same. It has helped them fight better too. He hopes that whatever Ladybug is going through in her civillian life will work itself out soon, but until then he will be there for her. He just needs to figure out how to be there for Marinette.

•••

Felix was making good progress with Marinette. After they first asked marinette about (insert fashion question of your choice here, I legit know nothing and I didn't have time to research anything for this chapter), she had started answering their questions on a daily basis. After a couple of days of that, she had started to rant to them about different things in the fashion world that were bothering her, exciting her, or confusing her that particular day. In response to that, they had started to respond to her rants with their own opinions on the subjects and even start their own rants.

It had gotten to the point where Felix would now consider them to be friends, though they know that Marinette would never call them as such, it was fine with them. They know she has trust issues, and they can understand why, so they are fine with being friends in everything but a name.

Felix was looking forward to their daily banter as they waited in their seat for Marinette to arrive. When she did, she was followed by a very pissed-looking Alya. Felix turned to look at her and noticed that she had what looked to be tears forming in her eyes. What they didn't notice was the little black butterfly that had entered through the window in the back of the room, and was making a beeline towards her.

•••

Marinette walked to school in yet another one of her newest fashion creations: a pair of oversized grey ripped jeans and a navy blue sweatshirt. She was actually really liking her new look, and the comfort that it offered was just an added plus.

She was actually feeling excited to talk to Felix about Gabriel Agreste's newest fashion flop. They were the only person that she had met that actually cared about fashion as much as her. It made her happy to talk to them. It kind of scared her how excited she was. Shouldn't she be distancing herself from everyone? she thought to herself. No. Felix isn't my friend, they aren't close to me, they are just someone I talk fashion with. Like a coworker, yeah. Totally. Felix is just a coworker. ("Liar" says the inner voice in her head)

She was shocked out of her thoughts when she was pulled to the side by someone as she entered the courtyard. Her mind immediately thought of an akuma, when the person spoke.

"Marinette! Girl," Oh it's just Alya. Wait Alya? "How long are you gonna keep up this cry for attention? Are you really THAT jealous of Lila? I know that Adrien likes her, but that doesn't give you the right to act like this! And you are hanging out with Felix, who accused her of sexually harrassing Adrien on their first day here-?" She looked absolutely furious at her, but Marinette had heard enough. She cut Alya off in the middle of her presumably long rant.

"ALYA!" Said girl jumped at both the inturruption and the tone of voice used, "First of all, this isn't a cry for attention, if anything its a cry for leaving me the fuck alone. Second of all, I'm not jealous of Lila. I'm not in love with Adrien anymore, and haven't been for a while. You knew that I was dating Luka right? Why would I care who Adrien likes? Lastly, I am allowed to hang out with whoever I choose, whether you like them or not. It's none of your fucking business Alya, and if you think that I'm just some jealous, attention-seeker why do you even care?" With that last question she stormed off to the classroom, leaving a speechless Alya behind her.

When marinette sat down in her seat, she just kept thinking about how Alya was just talking to her. How could she think that about her? They used to be best friends, and Alya wasn't even concerned about her not talking to her anymore, she was just concerned about her being "jealous of Lila". It made her so furious that she could feel tears trickling down her face. She sees the black butterfly out of the corner of her eye and without hesitation grabs it out of the air.

(Next part is taken from this post by @bigfatbreak)

"Go ahead and akumatize me- See what happens, Hawkmoth!" She screamed the words with a slight madness that the energy of the akuma was giving her, "Every leash has two ends! I just have to pull until I find where you're holding it!"

At this point, the entire class was frozen in place watching her and listening to her crazed-sounding voice threaten an actual terrorist. Marinette felt Hawkmoth's confusion and terror through the bond. What in the- She's sensing me through the Akuma?! The akuma then started to fly away, and when it couldn't it zapped her hand like it was made of lightning and fluttered through the same window it came from. Marinette felt like she had failed yet again and collapsed down on her desk, muttering, "Uuuuggghh. It escaped anyway... What a waste. I didn't realize that Hawkmoth was such a coward. He usually likes grandstand..."

She was startled when her hand was picked up by Felix's, "You likely scared him off by managing to locate him like that... A risky move, I should mention. I would ask that you not attempt that a second time. No one knows what his akuma is truly capable of. You'll want to keep off of this hand for a while, too."

"Oh, are those the doctor's orders? Why, Felix, it almost sounds like you care about meeee." Marinette was all too amused by Felix's concern for her. She also liked to tease them... AS COWORKERS DO.

"I have an investment in your presence. Now don't be cheeky and let's get you to the nurse's office," They said while holding her wrist and gently pulling her in that direction.

Marinette scoffed, "'An investment in my presence'??"

Felix chuckled while still semi-dragging her by the wrist towards the front of the room, being careful not to hurt her injury even worse, "What did I just say about being cheeky?"

On their way out of the door they passed a VERY distressed-looking Adrien. He seemed to be sharing the sentiment with the entire class of: Did that just happen?

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

And thats chapter 4. It is VERY LATE! I know. I've been swamped with work, and when I went to write it, I had zero ideas on how to write this chapter. I never ended up getting those ideas. I just went where my writing took me, so if it doesn't really match the characters that's why. I will try to be better at updating regularly, but it probably won't happen. Sorry to everyone with a normal sleep schedule, but this is the time that I write things. Also I didn't have my outline with me while writing this chapter, so it might not have everything I planned to write in it.

I would like to thank you all for all of the support I've been getting on this fic. Despite all of the chapter delays, you guys have stuck with me through all of it, so thank each and every one of you. I love seeing so many people loving this au as much as I do. Without you guys this story wouldn't exist, and I would've stopped writing it after the first chapter.

As always, constructive criticism is always accepted. I love being able to improve my writing whenever possible.

Thank you for reading. Have a nice day/night/whenever you are reading this. See ya next time guys, gals, and non-binary pals.

Taglist

@queer-illusion @apasponsor @heckinggremlin @1-ahiro-1 @hewantedbeefintheparkinglot @sassakitty @lennauts @rianoel @dorkus-minimus @khneltea @welp-that-was-unexpected @mlnchlymrshmllw @lovelyautumnsunflower @chariphrasis @lovesbooks @komatsuna-yuki @polyvirnl @innocentlyguiltyfrenchfry @qhobias @ive-tumbled-down-a-rabbit-hole @hammalammadamdam @cloudydaysomewhere @alcoholic-barney @basenikon @xxbehindthemaskxx @corporeal-terrestrial @shadowymemoirs @moonlight-densetsuu

[lilith-jean-stark]

Secrets

Warnings: none!

Summary: You and Peter find out each other’s secrets by accident.

A/n: I’ll be setting up a blurb night soon! So stay tuned 😎

You got off the train and made your way to school. Another boring day at mid-town high. Being the sister of Tony Stark had its perks, but it also had its downsides. No one knew that you were Tony’s sister, but you had to admit that being the secret sister was nice because you didn't have people up in your face all the time, except Peter Parker. Peter Parker was the only one who knew your secret. You and Peter had been friends for years and up until a couple weeks ago he had no idea about your secret. You stupidly were doing work for Tony in your notebook while having lunch at school one day, when Peter happened to sit next to you.

*flashback*

"Ugh this formula isn't working." You thought to yourself. Maybe it was just this noisy cafeteria that was making it difficult to think.

"Hey whatcha doing?" Peter said sliding beside you on the bench. Peters eyes widened "Stark industries?" He said a bit too loudly.

"Peter shush!" You snapped and scurried to get your notes into your book bag.

"What are you doing with formulas from Stark industries?" Peter whispered.

"That's not what it is." You rolled your eyes, "silly Peter." You booped his nose with your index finger.

Peter blushed, "uhm yes y/n it is, uh," he stuttered then shook his head to break his gaze with you, "Yes it is, I have an internship, I've seen them."

"I can't say." You groaned, annoyed he didn't take the nose boop as bait to change the subject.

"Come on, it's not like I'd tell anyone." He whined.

"Okay fine, but you have to swear that you won't tell anyone." You said sticking your pinky out for the two of you to pinky swear.

"I swear." Peter said locking his pinky with yours.

You leaned in and whispered "Tony Stark is my older brother and I kinda own part of Stark industries."

"No way!" Peter looked at me in shock.

"Yes way, but it's not a big deal." You laughed and showed him a picture of you and Tony with your parents before they died.

"Wow, he's pretty cool, isn't he?" Peter said in awe.

"Maybe to you because of your internship, but as a brother he's kinda lame." You smirked and nudged Peter with your elbow, to let him know you were only joking.

*end flashback*

You smiled to yourself at how understanding Peter had been about keeping your identity from him. You stood at your locker and sorted the books you needed for class into your bag.

"Y/n!" You heard Peter shout from the other end of the hall.

You waved to him and he jogged down the hallway to you.

"How's it hanging Parker?" You asked as he leaned against the locker next to yours.

"You ready for that Chem test tomorrow?" He asked.

You rolled your eyes, you and Peter had known each other for years and he still forgets that you’re pretty much a genius.

"Sorry forgot we have a prodigy here." Peter put his hands up in defense. "Actually May has been asking about you, she wants you to come over for dinner tonight." He said, crossing his arms.

"Peter you didn't tell her did you?" You said in a hushed voice.

"What? No! She asked what you've been up to, because you know she hasn't seen you around in awhile. So I lied..." Peter trailed off and looked at you with hopeful eyes. "I said you had an internship at Stark industries too."

You laughed slightly, "I'll send Tony a text and let him know I won't be home for dinner.

"Sweet, you're not mad?" He asked.

"No peter I'm not mad. You're actually a genius for telling her that." You smiled at him for being so sweet and for protecting your secret. Even though you knew he was dying to tell Ned and pretty much anyone who would listen.

"Oh and Ned might be by later too. He's got this lego Death Star he wants to build." Peter said staring to get all giddy.

"Wait, didn't you two build that a couple months ago?" You raised an eyebrow curiously at him.

Peters face went red, "oh yea i meant he needed help with his homework." He said quickly and started off down the hall, "gotta go gonna be late for class."

You sighed and headed to class. You didn't think anything of Peters weird behavior, due to the fact that Peter was sometimes scatter brained.

Peter got to math class and sat next to Ned.

"You can't come over tonight." Peter whispered to him.

"Why not , the Death Star isn't going to build itself Peter."

"Y/n is coming over for supper and she thinks we already put it together. She'll get suspicious." Peter whisper yelled.

"Fine, but it wouldn't have to be rebuilt if someone didn't make me drop it." Ned rolled his eyes at him "And you haven't told her about you know what yet?"

"No I can't Ned." He mumbled.

Later after school peter went and did his usual spider man stuff. He was just about done and was heading home and then realized that he had forgot about you. He raced home and climbed into his room through the window. His bedroom door was already shut, so he dropped to the floor and took his mask off.

The door opened, "hey Peter, May said to make myself at home..." you started to say, your eyes focused on your phone.

Peter quickly pressed his suits release button and let it fall to the floor, then kicked it under his bed.

"She said I'd find you in..." You stopped short of yourself when you looked up from your phone, to see Peter standing there in front of you in his boxers. It was just like Ned all over again, Peter had thought to himself.

"Woah Sorry Parker." You put your hands up in defense and smirked, holding back laughter. You stood there staring at him and laughed, "I guess I should have knocked."

Peter blushed, "Aunt May, can you please stop letting people in my room without knocking!" He shouted.

"I'll go check out what May is up too and come back when your dressed." You said.

"No, its fine!" Peter said, grabbing a sweatshirt and pulling on pants.

"Why were you in your underwear anyway?" You asked.

"I was warm." He lied.

You shut the door and glared at Peter. "You better not be lying to me. You realize that I have access to the worlds largest data pool, if I want to know something, I’ll find out."

"Look Y/n, i am not lying." Peter almost couldn't get the words out. You frightened him sometimes, you were very confident and fierce, never caring what others thought of you.That and you were smarter than him and you were pretty much one of the most powerful people in America with being a stark. Even if Peter was a good liar, you could still tell whether he was lying or not and if looks could kill, you would be shooting daggers from your eyes.

Peter watched you as you tilted your head to look behind him. "So what's that?" You pointed to the underneath of his bed.

"Nothing, just stuff."

"Peter?" You pushed past him and grabbed his Spider-Man suit and pulled it out from under the bed.

"You just happen to have a bright red leotard?" You questioned and then spread it out before he could rip it out of her hands. "Peter!!!!" You gasped and dropped the suit, "That's spider mans suit, I built that!" You shot him a look, "wait are you Spider-Man?" You asked as your eyes grew wide with realization.

"Yes." Peter said annoyed and grabbed the suit, hiding it in his bookbag. Then he realized what you had said, his eyes widened "you built that?!"

You grabbed the bookbag and pulled the suit from it. "Yes I did, Tony asked me to do a suit for some spider guy. I didn't think he was talking about you!" You exclaimed and examined the suit. "What did he tell you about the suit?” You asked.

"Mr. Stark said he made it." Peter said nervously.

"God of course he did.” You rolled your eyes. “Anyway that's besides the point, you're Spider-Man and you've been using my tech to help you fight crime? Did Tony tell you about the formulas too!? Is that why you caught me in the cafeteria." You looked anxious and kept looking at the suit.

 "No, the formula I noticed was mine..." Peter looked down at his hands.

"Wait, the spider web goo, you made that?" You looked at him in disbelief.

"Yes I did, I gave the formula to Mr. Stark because he wanted to see if he could improve it. Then he told me to leave it how it was. I was confused when I saw you with it because Mr. Stark was the only person I told. So I figured you had to be working on Stark industries stuff if you had my web formula." Peter explained.

"Peter that's the coolest chemical reaction I've ever seen! I love playing with that stuff!" You said excitedly.

Peter blushed and you pulled him into a hug. “Let’s get out there before May starts getting suspicious.” You said almost as a hum, you were as happy as could be and even happier now that you and Peters secrets were out.

[1kook]

kissanime & foreplay

this is part of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans. warnings; mentions of hentai yes u read right, kook leads most of it, cunnilingus, masturbation (f), oral (f), use of a sex toy, fingering, nipple play, face sitting/fucking/riding idk (f), praise kink, hints of dumbification, cum eating, jk is like passive aggressive in this one, 4 (f) orgasms, this is the kicker: sub kook at the end😳, like 2 sec of dom yn lol, & u get 0.002 sec of adams apple kink misc; more dumb story lines, made up sex stores bc my creativity knows no bounds, Jungkook plays nice but is actually mean for the majority of it, once again doyeon plays a pivotal role in the furthering of women empowerment, internal love monologues about jk best boy<3 wc; 8.2k

notes; back when kissanime was offed I remember looking at this fic in the drafts like what the hell we gone do now.. n almost deleting it but I was like yknow what this isn’t a 1kook fic unless there’s smthn weird going on so here we are. also yes I know ohshc is on Netflix shut up!!!!! 

HAPPY BDAY MY LOVE AND MUSE JEON JUNGKOOK !!!! 🥺💜

—

The good thing about getting your own apartment is that you finally have a place to call your own. There’s no limit on how many potted plants you can squeeze into a one bedroom, one bathroom apartment, and if there was one, you’re twelve in and no one has said anything to you yet. You don’t have to share the shower space with anyone, label all your products with a hastily scribbled name. There’s a bathtub—something you haven’t had the pleasure of using during college—and a fairly open living space. There’s so many empty spots to fill with useless decorations and family heirlooms and that ugly plastic rooster Jungkook won you at the summer kick-off fair last month.

The bad thing about having your own place is that the entire world and their mothers seem to know now. Despite graduating from college, you still keep in touch with your trusted graduate mentor Kim Namjoon, who is still very much in school, and has made it his mission to bring you a new plant every week, hence your growing collection. Your childhood friend comes over every Saturday morning to lounge around after her Friday nights out. Jungkook, although the only one who is ever actually invited, runs through your strawberry scented body wash like a madman.

And of course, Doyeon.

Your beloved college roommate of four years, Kim Doyeon, has been the bane of your apartment experience so far. Unlike you, who had slaved away for four years, saving every penny you made during college for this moment, Doyeon was a big spender. She blew every dollar she ever came across, which is why she’s going to be stuck living at her parent’s house for at least a couple more years.

Nothing wrong with that, of course, if she wasn’t the most maniac online shopper in existence. It hadn’t been a problem in college because she was always good old pals with the students who worked the mailroom. If they saw something questionable, they’d let it slide as long as it was under Miss Kim Doyeon, Room 229.

The reason it became an issue for her now is because it’s poor Mrs. Kim who signs over the package from Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! one Tuesday afternoon as it is delivered to their suburban home.

So now she’s taken to ordering all her freaky stuff to your new apartment, where the small cabinet by the door has quickly become home to her impulsive shopping habits. Truthfully, you don’t mind accepting Doyeon’s weird packages, and have long since grown used to the uncomfortable looks the mail carrier gives you.

Jungkook’s supposed to come over today and you really hope he doesn’t ask about the state of your hall cabinet. Now that you work at a small company outside of your degree to make ends meet, time with Jungkook has been significantly decreased. You weren’t in college anymore, so you didn’t have the luxury of dropping by his house whenever you wanted to in between classes. Of course, it’s mostly your schedule that conflicts with your planned hangouts, because Jungkook is still working his dream job from home.

However, because Jungkook is quite possibly the most amazing person on this planet, he’s started coming over every Saturday night to make sure you’re still alive and not dying. And so weekly media binges are a thing, and it’s currently week four.

He gave up on showing you the Marvel movie franchise last week, after you had asked where Wonder Woman was three times in a row. Since the Barbie Movie Debacle of last month, you’ve found a nice medium between who picks when. Jungkook picks most of the time, because most of the time you don’t really care. It’s become a running joke between the two of you that movie binges are usually just terribly masked excuses to go to town on each other, so you don’t mind missing an entire 15th Century French Revolution documentary if it means Jungkook is deep in your guts by the time King Louis XIV gets beheaded or whatever they did to him. Is it too obvious you didn’t watch the documentary?

Occasionally, there are instances where one of you genuinely does want to watch something, in which case you have an intense match of rock-paper-scissors to decide who’s picking that night. Most of the time, Jungkook wins. But for every match Jungkook wins, he promises you’ll pick the next one so you’ve long since stopped trying to actually beat him.

Long story short, last weekend you sat through a two part Ancient Aliens episode on the connection between aliens and American presidents.

It was the most god-awful conspiracy theory you’ve ever heard of, but Jungkook ate up every minute of it. By the time the two hosts announced their conclusion you were just about ready to rip your own ears off and single-handedly fist fight every producer on the channel for allowing the production of such an atrocious show.

Anyway, because you had so bravely sat through the entire evening without complaints— well, no complaints towards Jungkook’s terrible taste; the show, however, was not safe from your wicked tongue —Jungkook has so graciously allowed you to pick the media for this weekend.

You’ve been telling him for the longest time that you were going to hook him on anime. It was one of the few interests you always believed Jungkook should possess, being a weeb and all, because it was only fair that he had one questionable trait to balance out the rest of his perfection. Liking anime isn’t bad— if a hottie like you enjoyed it, then it obviously had its perks. However, you know a lot of other people are turned off by anime-enthusiasts due to preconceived notions of the genre and the viewer-base.

Now, it was a widely known fact that you always had ulterior motives. So maybe turning Jungkook into a weeb was just a ploy to turn other women off from him and keep your jealousy at bay. Sue you, your boyfriend was a walking wet dream, and you’d do anything to keep him to yourself.

After long deliberation, you’ve decided on introducing Jungkook to anime with a classic: Ouran High School Host Club, a god among anime, a true Beyonce among shoujos. The only problem was that you absolutely refused to pay Crunchyroll or Funimation when you could so easily find the entire show on KissAnime.com, home to only the finest of hentai ads and Are You a Robot? questions.

He sends you a text when he’s outside your building, and five minutes later there’s a rap against your door.

“Hi,” you smile up at him, heart fluttering in that same trademark way it did whenever Jungkook was within a five foot radius. He smiles back softly, leaning down to peck your lips as you step aside for him to enter. He’s got on those cotton sweats that you love, the ones that send your brain into a censored frenzy. But he’s also got that soft curl to his hair that lets you know he came here straight out of the shower in his hurry to see you. How you managed to bag a dream boyfriend like him was beyond you.

You bask in the overwhelming feeling of unannounced love for all of ten seconds before Jungkook is lifting up a square package you hadn’t seen at his hip. “Mailman gave me this,” he says, waving around the signature bright pink packaging of Sexuality Unleashed. Jungkook, for all his politeness and respect, seemed to falter in those categories when it came to you. He turns the box over, reading the big fat name of the company on the side. “Since when did you start buying sex toys?” he asks rather loudly in the hallway.

You yank him inside, hurriedly slamming the door shut before any of your neighbors can come out into the hallway and get a peek of this avid sex toy consumer. “They’re not mine!” you hiss, standing still when he uses you to balance himself as he tugs off his shoes. You snatch the box out of his hands, turning it around to make sure it is actually addressed to your home. Sure enough, it’s for you. Couldn’t there have been some other sex toy fanatic on this floor?

With his shoes off, Jungkook wastes no time enveloping you in a hug, the Sexuality Unleashed box tumbling to the ground. “It’s okay, baby, no need to be embarrassed.”

You groan, leaning your forehead against his shoulder as he continues to pat your back like you’re actually embarrassed to be caught buying toys— you’re not. You’re embarrassed he caught you with a sex toy you simply can’t put to use. “Whatever,” you sigh, “your gross popcorn is in my bedroom and it’s probably stale.”

He releases you, not before pulling you into a slow and languid kiss that has you clutching tightly at the front of his shirt. He pulls away with a soft smooch, right eye falling into a wink. “Bring the box, gorgeous,” he teases, before sauntering off in the direction of your bedroom.

You groan loudly. “It’s not mine!” you repeat, but for some reason do as he says.

Not only do you have no idea what’s in this package, but you’re frankly not too keen on finding out. You’re more interested in Jungkook’s reaction to one of your favorite animes of all time. The package is tossed onto the end of the bed, where Jungkook has already stripped himself of his socks and cuddled beneath your covers.

Your laptop has gone dark from inactivity so you slam down on the space bar to bring it back to life. Your first mistake was pressing anything at all. It flickers back on alright, but you forget that you are working with a minefield of ads ready to explode. You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans.

“What the hell is this?” he asks in a tone that screams he has never had to fight viruses off his computer just to watch something at two in the morning.

You ignore him, cuddling into his side as you hurriedly type in the title of the anime before another annoying ad can intercept you. “KissAnime,” you answer for now, accidentally clicking down on the mousepad with the heel of your palm. Another tab opens up to some sketchy credit site. You huff.

“Baby, I swear I just saw like twelve viruses,” he says. “And what even are these?” he scoffs, jabbing a finger at one of the many ads that lines the perimeter of the website. “Animated teacher porn?”

By the grace of god, you somehow manage to get onto the episode selection screen without having another tab open on you. You smile in relief, turning the power of your excitement onto Jungkook… only to find his eyes narrowed in on the square advertisement for some hentai website. “What? You wanna watch hentai now?” you snort, placing the laptop on his legs as you cuddle into his side.

Jungkook sputters, cheeks tinting red at the mere insinuation he would ever consume such media. “No,” he glares, releasing the arm around your shoulders to huffily cross them over his chest. “I am not going to watch anatomically incorrect illustrations of a woman teacher relieving herself, ___,” he says rather matter-of-factly.

You snort, repeating, “a woman teacher,” mockingly and in a high pitched voice that, honestly, doesn't sound anything like him. You click play on the video box that appears after only about twenty more pop-up ads. “Silence, you nymphomaniac, the episode is starting.” Jungkook pulls you close with a displeased expression, finally quieting down when you put it on full screen and the ads disappear from his view.

You’re beginning to wonder if Jungkook really is the script and plot dissector he claims to be, or if he just lives to get under your skin. He doesn’t make it three minutes without finding something to critique. First it’s the quality of the frames, and then it’s the characterization of the lead character. He nitpicks everything about the best anime in existence, and by the end of the first episode you’re considering breaking up with him.

“Oh my god,” you groan, tearing yourself away from him. He’s all laid up against your mountain of pillows, tongue prodding at the insides of his mouth in that ridiculously attractive habit of his. Usually, you’d be tripping over yourself to kiss him, but you’re about two seconds from ripping his head off. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, baby,” you sigh, picking up his hand in yours. “You gotta shut up.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “I have to shut up?” he asks in a scandalized tone. “You sang through the entire intro, off tune may I add.”

At this rate you’re getting nowhere, so you just snatch the laptop back up before you actually hurt his feelings. You escape the full screen, met with those hentai ads that are slowly becoming the bane of Jungkook’s existence.

“Who actually watches those anyway?” he mumbles, covering the sidebar full of naked cartoon ladies with his palm for you, a real gentleman if you ever saw one. “Really?” he says, knocking his pointer finger against a particularly raunchy ad with the caption Be a Good Boy and Let her Play beneath it.

You snort. “You are such a baby,” you tease, pinching his cheek much to his annoyance. “What? Can’t handle seeing some anime titties?”

Jungkook shoves your hand away, leaning back to become one with the pillows as you continue onto the next episode. “They’re just weird,” he admits. “And make unrealistic faces.”

“Unrealistic,” you repeat, finally giving one of the ads the time of day. There’s an adorably drawn character making the most perverted expression, knees hiked up to her chest. Her face is twisted up, drooling like a dog and with her eyes crossed in ecstasy. You shrug. “Just because you can’t get those faces out of me doesn’t mean they’re unreal.”

The second the words leave your mouth Jungkook is letting out a scandalized scoff, sitting up to level you with another glare. “First of all, I can get you like that,” he defends, tapping his finger against the ad on screen. “In fact, I can get you like that without even trying, so let’s not say anything too drastic now, okay?”

His sudden bout of defensiveness makes something playful in you switch on, laying back down beside him with a smirk. “Oh, you can make me all stupid like this?”

Jungkook scoffs. “Yes.”

“Uh huh,” you drawl, tracing a finger up his chest teasingly; Jungkook knocks your knuckles away, obviously still butt hurt about your comment. That’s fine, because a slightly riled up Jungkook was always the best Jungkook. You sit up and lean in close, letting your hand slip beneath his hoodie, palm running over his bare shoulder and around the top of his back. You give his nape a light squeeze, lips pressed against the shell of his ear. “Why don’t you prove it to me, Jungkookie?” you purr, before pulling away.

His jaw twitches at the nickname, one shapely brow unconsciously arching as he regards you with a calculative expression.

The thing about Jungkook was that, after almost a year of dating, you know just how to push his buttons. He has a rather calm and collected exterior to him, the same one he’s had since the day you met him, but beneath it all was a childish competitiveness that raged with the heat of ten suns. He disliked being taunted like you were doing now, especially when his credibility was at stake.

Honestly speaking, you don’t doubt Jungkook can make you look as goofy and messy as those hentai ads. In fact you’re rather confident he can. Either way, him being right or you being right, you would still get some fun out of it.

“Hm?” you add, tracing your hand up to dance over the skin of his cheek, pads of your fingers running over that stiff jaw. “Are you scared I’m right and you’re wrong?”

A hand snaps up to catch your wrist, fingers tight around your skin until you’re shivering against him. “Oh baby, I can make you cum until you cry,” he murmurs, his usual sweet and lilting tone dropping to a low vibration that makes your pussy throb beneath your panties. Your heart leaps in your chest, lips falling open when he ducks down to brush them against yours. It’s too light, just a simple touch that makes you follow his mouth when he pulls back.

With one firm shove, the laptop is tumbling off the bed, thudding loudly against your bedside rug. Jungkook leans over you, his usual trademark doe eyes zeroed in on you with the focus of a laser. “Have a little faith in me,” he teases, and when he presses close you can feel his fattening cock flush against your thigh. Your body is begging to be touched, every brush of his fingers against your skin searing trails in their wake.

Suddenly, he’s drawing back. “Kook?” you frown, barely biting down on a childish whimper when he snuggles back into your mountain of pillows, one arm stretched behind his head.

He flashes you a smile. “Go on,” he says, arms behind his head. “Show me how to get you like that.”

“By myself?” you ask, shifting onto your knees anyway. Jungkook nods, a soft jut of his chin as he gives you another one of those easy going smiles of his. His goal seems a little unclear, but you had a ridiculous amount of trust in your boyfriend that whatever he had planned was certain to be good. With one final skeptical glance his way, you sink down onto your bum, knees spreading and giving him a clear view of your little pink boy shorts, elastic band hugging your waist.

The material of your t-shirt is guided away, held to your chest by the hand currently not traversing the length of your stomach, gliding across soft skin, over your belly button and past that band until it slips beneath. You chance another look Jungkook’s way, only to find his eyes wonderfully downcast in the direction of your core. That smile is gone now, replaced with a somber look as he watches your hand move mysteriously beneath the fabric of your undergarments.

The first brush of your forefinger against your swollen button makes you twitch, back arching at the sensation that is magnified by his watchful gaze. “Mmh,” you bite down, hand twisting in the material of your shirt. Jungkook’s eyes glare a molten path across your skin, from the comfy bra that peeks out from beneath your rumpled shirt to the wrist slowly working beneath your panties.

A hand falls over your thigh, tattooed fingers giving the skin a light squeeze as you get to work swirling your bud around. The sight of his inked skin on yours makes something warm blossom in your lower abdomen, your eyes following the inky swirls up, up, up. They lead you to the face of your very handsome boyfriend, long lashes fanning across his cheekbones as he watches you play with yourself. “Wanna take these off for me?” he says, the tip of his pointer finger wiggling beneath the fabric of your shorts.

You nod hurriedly, wiggling around on the bed until you’re on your back, legs bent in front of you. The shorts come down your legs; the simplest press of your thighs makes something quiver in your abdomen. You toss them off to the side, and just as you go to sit back up, Jungkook places a hand on your knee. “Stay like this for me,” he says, sitting up from his mountain of pillows to glance down at you. You melt into the plush mattress beneath you, staring down at him between your legs. He’s got that adoring look in his eyes, the one that makes you feel so warm and in love, it’s only natural your hand slips down to play with your bare clit again. “That’s my girl,” he smiles, rubbing a hand down the outside of your thigh, urging your legs to fall open.

There’s this overflowing vat of arousal that builds up inside of you everytime Jungkook is around, like the moment your eyes land on him you’re reminded of every position he’s ever had you in. You remember the soft brush of his hands on your body, the way his lips feel on yours, the soft tickle of his hair when he gets too close. It makes your heart lurch in your chest, like if you don’t grab onto him tightly this feeling will slip through your fingers and out of your life. So you were crazily in love with your boyfriend— now what?

A puckered set of lips meets the inside of your thigh, the action ripping you from your overly gooey, overly soft inner rambling. Your hand trails down your quivering pussy lips, collecting your dripping wetness as you go. At the same time, Jungkook kisses down the inside of your thigh, soft smacks of his lips against your skin filling the air with an emotion that makes you bite down a whimper. Your hole puckers at the brush of your fingers, anticipating an entrance that you yearn to give into soon.

His mouth is on you before your finger can go deeper than a centimeter in. But Jungkook doesn’t brush your hand off, doesn’t shove you away to prove his mouth was undoubtedly better. He places a kiss over your knuckles, before swallowing up your significantly smaller hand with his, that of which he clasps together over your navel.

You groan, head rolling from side to side. “Don’t be so soft with me,” you whine, leg twitching when he presses a kiss against your engorged bundle of nerves. “Push me around like that one time, you know I like it.”

Jungkook grins, mouthing over your clit with practiced ease that has you releasing all kinds of whimpers and sighs. He’s got his other hand wrapped around your thigh, strong arm pulling you closer to that devious mouth and tongue that lavished attention on your clit. “Need me to be mean to you, baby?” he purrs, curling his tongue in such a way that it makes your entire body tense up, muscles pulled tight. “Want me to push you around like the stupid little girl you are?” You moan, head bobbing up and down at the ideas he stuffs in your mind. As he moves down the length of your cunt, that round nose you love brushes against your bud, and the cheeky shit takes an obnoxiously loud sniff of it, a soft groan breathed against your lower lips. “But isn’t this better?” he hums, languidly molding his lips against your lower ones, much in the same way he does with the ones on your face; he moves slowly, slips his tongue in every few seconds before eventually diving in head on. “Slow... and so easy.”

“Kook,” you mewl, getting this overwhelming urge to cover your face with your hands. But you can’t, because he’s knotted one hand with yours and his fingers only tighten when you try to yank them apart. Instead you’re left pressing one knuckle against your mouth, brows pinching as he begins slowly fucking his tongue into your cunt. “F-Faster,” you beg. He, of course, ignores your plea.

The wet mass moves past the clenched muscles around your hole, nose brushing against your lips with every intrusion. Every few cycles he stops to press a kiss against your pussy, so hard and wet that it hurts when he pulls off. You’re left writhing and moaning, your heel knocking against his shoulder when he pushes your leg up closer to your chest. “It’s enough,” you cry, your entire body shivering.

Jungkook pulls off with a loud pop, lips glistening with your arousal. He’s got this glint on his eyes, like he’s thoroughly entertained by your reactions. He shuffles around to get comfortable, finally releasing that grip on your hand. Immediately, your newly freed hand jumps forward to tangle in the hair above his ear, tracing down the delicate curve of his cheekbone. Jungkook turns his head, pressing a soft peck against your open palm that makes your heartbeat thunder in your ears.

As he moves around, his leg bumps against something that has both of you pausing. It sounds out of place next to your shallow breaths, and both of you glance down only to catch sight of that stupid package from Sexuality Unleashed teetering on the edge of the bed.

The moment you see it, it’s like you’re transported into an omnipresent view of the scene, the next few hours flashing before your eyes as Jungkook snorts. You know he’s going to reach for it in two seconds, and you know he’s going to tear the hot pink packaging apart with his bare hands. He does so with a scary amount of power, the industrial tape not standing a chance against him. A box roughly the same size as the package falls out, and before you can kick it away and save yourself from suffering beneath Jungkook’s teasing antics, he’s snatching up the box.

“The Bullet Bestie,” he reads aloud, dark eyes flying across the text with lightning speed before that box is also being ripped open. (Briefly, there’s a voice in your head that thinks of Doyeon, but you’re not sure why.) Out tumbles a little pink bullet with a strap on one end that bounces against your thigh and an even smaller remote.

“Baby,” you rush out, the sight of the tiny toy making your heart thunder in your chest. “We can look at it another time,” you try, hands coming up to brush against his face again. “Why don’t you finish off here?” you ask, a sickeningly sweet politeness dripping off your tongue as the knot in your tummy fades into the background of his attention.

Jungkook ignores you, picking up the remote with a wondrous look in his eyes. Before you can try to persuade him back between your legs, a quiet click cuts you off and the little bullet whirls to life. You yelp at the sudden vibrations against the inside of your thigh, so close to your throbbing core. The jump of your thighs has it falling onto the mattress below you, wide eyes snapping back to the smirk that grows on his face.

“No,” you say slowly, sitting back up, “no, no,” you try, your usual assertiveness melting into a whiny cry as you try to wiggle away from him and the nefarious ideas infesting his lust-addled mind. You’re barely turning, ready to make a run for it and hand him his victory by forfeit, when Jungkook is catching you by the waist. Your hips get pulled up, arms clawing uselessly at the sheets beneath you as he drags you close to him. He’s fast, already having moved onto his knees behind you, and when he yanks you up, you can feel every hot plane of his body aligned with your backside. “Kook, please just make me cum,” you gasp.

There’s a smile pressed against your shoulder, lips still wet from before, kissing along the side of your neck. “Look at my girl,” he murmurs, and you nearly jump out of your skin when something smooth is traced along your thigh. One hand slips beneath the material of your shirt, soothingly rubbing circled against your skin. This hand also holds the tiny remote between two fingers, and every nerve in your body is on edge waiting for it to be used. “Where’s that smartmouth now?”

“Jungkook,” you try to warn. But there’s no bite to your words, only an anticipation that grows the closer he moves that damned toy between your thighs. “Baby, we-we can play another time, okay? Just please—“

A soft click, and suddenly your spine is giving out on you, upper body flopping forward as Jungkook runs the vibrations over your clit. Of course Jungkook follows, never letting you slip far from his reach. A loud moan spills from your lips, lower lip wobbling at the unreal amounts of pleasure he bestows upon you with such a small toy. “W-Wait,” you sob, the coil from before suddenly magnified tenfold. It makes your orgasm loom over you bigger than ever, a wave that threatens to spill over and drown you in one go. “No-please.”

His mouth presses against your ear, hot breaths fanning against the skin there. “Hey pretty girl, does it feel good?” he husks out, kissing just below your ear. “Aw fuck,” he groans, something stiff pressing against the cleft between your cheeks, “can’t even see if you’re making that stupid face right now.”

You are, but you don’t even have the words to tell him that. The moment the vibrator had made contact with your already ravished clit, your eyes had rolled into the back of your head. You don’t doubt you look like those silly ads you’d laughed at earlier, mouth opening and closing every few seconds as he circles the toy around your bud. You settle on a high-pitched whimper that has Jungkook laughing meanly against your ear.

It ends too soon, the stimulation from Jungkook eating you out for a few minutes combining with the bullet to form a powerful duo that swallows you whole. An embarrassingly loud moan rips itself from your throat, hands twisting in the sheets beneath you as it washes over you. It’s so powerful, it blinds you, pussy spasming. Jungkook’s name is repeated about a thousand times in between, your body eventually melting back into the mattress as the final shocks run through you.

The vibrator clicks off just as quietly as it turned on, your harsh breaths filling the room in its place. “Good girl,” Jungkook praises, raining down a parade of kisses against your shoulder. You mewl in appreciation, still awkwardly shoving your face into the mattress, and your hips in the air. From the corner of your eyes, you watch him set the glistening toy off to the side, and you’re just about ready to thank the heavens for such an experience with your boyfriend, when said boyfriend hits you with a curveball.

The gentle pecks against yours shoulder dissolve into harsh kisses, rough hands trailing up your waist. The t-shirt gathers around his knuckles, pushed and pushed until he’s got those same hands cupping your breasts. “Did you like that?” he asks, biting down against your shoulder; the sensation is dulled by your shirt being in the way but it still makes you whine. You moan softly, nodding against the mattress as he gets to kneading your breasts over your bra. “Mm,” Jungkook sighs, “my pretty girl was so good for me, wasn’t she?”

Those deft fingers run back down, crawl beneath the elastic of your lounge bra and push it away until your breasts are bouncing out of their cage. “Kook,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut as he traces circles around your nipples. “W-Wait,” you whimper, suddenly reminded of the swollen cock pressed against your backside when he leans closer.

“Shhh,” he soothes, tweaking your nipples. “Relax for me, sweetheart,” he coos, flicking your hardened nipples with his fingers. You can’t relax, not with your body still so sensitive and him playing with you. Still, the low intonation makes something soft and warm settle in your chest, the kisses against your jaw making your eyes fall shut. “That’s it,” he says, giving one nipple a playful twist that draws a high-pitched moan from you.

Just as you’re beginning to fall into the rhythm of Jungkook’s caresses and voice, he releases one breast to traverse his hand down and over your tummy, to your sensitive pussy. You gasp, biting down on your lip as he teasingly flicks your clit with his fingers. “Bet you could come again now,” he murmurs, taking the tip of your earlobe into his mouth and nibbling softly. You groan, shoving your face into the sheets as if that will save you from your doom. “Bet your pretty little pussy can cream itself just like this, isn’t that right, sweet girl?”

You whimper, hips bucking back against him when he begins nudging your bud, lewd sounds reaching your ears. His other hand remains on your breast, no longer toying with your nipple but simply holding it almost comfortingly. There’s a smirk pressed against your skin, that pearly white smile you usually adore so much teasing you as he circles your nub.

“Come on,” he encourages quietly, kissing up the column of your neck again. You moan, thighs quivering as he strokes a second orgasm out of you with no struggle. Your eyes and throat burn at the heat that washes over you, and you release a hoarse scream into the mattress— Jungkook chuckles at the sound, egging you on with that low voice until your muscles go limp a second time.

When he rolls you onto your stomach again, you try desperately to cover the tears that blur your vision, turning away from him like a child when he tries to look. “Crybaby, crybaby,” he sings teasingly, prying your hands away to capture your mouth with his for the first time that night. “Lemme see those tears, baby,” he purrs.

He tastes like you, tongue dripping with that sweet tang of your pussy, and he smells like you too. It strokes the flames of you ego, arms eventually wrapping around his shoulders as he settles above you. He pulls off with a curl of his tongue against your swollen lips, brown eyes lazily staring down at you. It’s embarrassing how well kept he still was compared to your half-nude state of dress. His skin is all glowy and pretty, not a single tear track in sight, and his grin is still too relaxed for your liking.

Jungkook’s body feels so warm and comforting against yours, muscles keeping the heat trapped between your bodies. You go to brush a hand through his hair, needing to feel the familiarity of those silky locks, before he’s suddenly leaning away. He shuffles onto his knees again, glancing down at your thoroughly abused cunt with a quirk in his brows.

“God,” you groan, knocking your foot against his side. “Just fuck me already,” you huff despite your earlier fatigue. You could only go so long without feeling Jungkook’s fat demon cock inside of you.

He snorts at your snappy tone, cutely tilting his head to the side to move his hair out of his face. His jaw looks sharp from this angle, facial features covered in shadows the lamplight behind him can’t touch. “Can’t,” he announces, and you could pull your hair out from all this unnecessary build up.

Truth to be told, you and Jungkook were both equally as unrestrained when it came to each other. Most of the time, the lead up to actual, penetrative, key-in-lock sex included a couple minutes of heavy petting from his end, and maybe a half assed handjob from you. Sometimes if you felt extra attentive, he’d eat you out and you'd him off. But for the most part, the two of you jumped straight into it after an orgasm, like horny teenagers despite the two of you being twenty-three now.

The most adventurous you’d ever gotten up until the point was maybe two orgasms bestowed upon you by a crazed Jungkook. And, well. You had hit two orgasms now. You were ready for his monster cock.

“Kook,” you whine childishly.

Jungkook shakes you off, placing a palm on both your knees. Slowly, he spreads your thighs apart again, eyes zeroed in on the glossy folds that come into view, the sparkling pearly cum that leaks out of your hole. “I can’t, baby,” he says, almost pained. “I gotta clean you up first,” he insists, and before you can tell him how counterproductive it is to lick you clean of your arousal before fucking you, he’s diving face first into your cunt.

But the biggest surprise doesn’t come from Jungkook going in for thirds, but from the hands he clasps around your thighs, the sheer strength he uses to roll you over (ignoring the shriek you let out) to sit you on his face. “No, no,” you yelp immediately, “I-I‘ll break you,” you cry, trying to escape from his hold.

From beneath your thighs, dark eyes peering up at you daringly, you can see the clear warning on Jungkook’s face. It’s a look that loudly says don’t you dare fucking move, shapely brows sending a jolt of genuine fear down your spine for a moment. “Jungkook,” you fret, trying to ignore the arousal that only continues to blossom as his tongue laps against your folds for the second time that night. “I’m, I’m,” you stammer, hands burying themselves in his hair as he ignores your cries. “I’ll break you,” you try again, spine arching when he slurps your clit into his mouth. “I-I’ll—“

He pulls off with a pop. “Fuck my face, baby,” he says, as if he hadn’t heard a single of your concerns at all. His nose nudges against your clit, a whimper catching in your throat. Briefly, his hand disappears from around your thigh, and when it returns, that tiny bullet vibrator from earlier is pressed against your thigh. “You got that?”

You nod, internally torn apart by your fear of crushing him and your need to drag your cunt all over your boyfriend’s handsome face. You glance down at him, watch him slip that vibrator into his mouth for just a second and lewdly coat it in his saliva, before he’s reaching around to shove it past your pussy lips. They’re still swollen and puffy, but have long since relaxed enough for him to slip it in. “B-But what if—“

“You won’t,” he cuts off, readjusting himself closer to your cunt again, “come on, pretty girl.”

The reason you think you and Jungkook click so well was because he was able to bring that vulnerable side out of you every now and then. He knew you liked to parade around with that huge superiority complex, and he loved it. But he also knew there were things you liked and disliked, and sometimes it took a little pushing for you to reveal them.

For a second, that horny cloud over his irises lifts, and he gives you one of those cute, sloppy winks as he taps your thigh gently. “Fuck my face, sweetheart,” he whispers, “drag that pretty cunt all over me until I can’t breathe.” A gasp catches in your throat, hands unconsciously curling against his scalp. He notices, and flashes you a lazy smirk. “You can do that, can’t you?”

Something akin to adoration blooms in your chest, and before you can blurt out something embarrassing—like I love you—there’s a soft click that has The Bullet Bestie revving up inside of you. You gasp, the sudden vibrations deep inside your pussy making your hips snap forward, clit rubbing against Jungkook’s nose.

“O-Oh,” you cry, and that’s all it takes for you to lose it. Your hips start off slow, at first just savoring the wet drag of his tongue against your lips, his nose against your clit. He sticks his tongue out for you, and part of you wants to tell him he’s a good boy, that corny hentai ad flashing in your mind, but you doubt you’ll survive the aftermath of that. Once you find that perfect pace, your hands are practically yanking at his hair, pushing him further into the mattress as you ride his face like he’s nothing but a toy. “Kook, Jungkook,” you pant, grinding your lower lips against his all too eager mouth.

It feels oddly weird being over him like this, using him like this. You like to think you and Jungkook have equal power in the bedroom, but you will admit that more often than not, he assumes control by default. You’re not particularly bothered by that, because you doubt you’d ever come up with the crazy ideas Jungkook did when he was horny (okay, a lie, because you definitely have thought of crazy sex schemes before).

But, this moment…

The power was quickly going to your head. “Fuck,” you sob, roughly dragging the length of your pussy over and over his face. The hands around your thighs are pressing against your skin with a strength that would hurt were you not blinded by arousal. His eyes are shut, lids fluttering open every now and then as he watches you buck wildly over his face like he was a pillow in high school and your parents were gone for the weekend.

It doesn’t help that the rhythmic pulses of the vibrator inside of you are doing their job well, the tongue that slips into your pussy joining together to form a powerful combination. It’s ultimately what has you halting your manic thrusts, instead falling into a slow grind over him. Your hips circle, eyes squeezed shut as you lose yourself in the lapping of his tongue against your dripping hole. “Mmmf,” you mewl, biting down on your lower lip as the wet muscle prods against a delicate spot within you. You hear feels light, view of the gorgeous man beneath you obstructed by the eyelids that can't seem to stay open. “N-No,” you cry, pulling his hair more roughly than you intended to in order to redirect him. “There, there,” you whimper, holding him tight against your pussy.

Beneath you, Jungkook exhales harshly against your lips, hands moving frantically over your thighs as he works his tongue inside of you alongside the bullet vibrator. If you weren’t so caught up in your own pleasure, all kinds of sounds spilling from your lips, you would have heard the quiet moans that fall from his. Alas.

It takes a few more pulses from the toy and a few more licks from Jungkook until you’re coming for the third time that night, features twisting up as your pussy clenches around his tongue before spilling down his mouth. Your back arches, a defeated moan escaping you as you release the same mess he’d claimed to clean up onto his lovely face. You can barely breathe afterwards, mouth dry and head dizzy when Jungkook finally pops back out from between your thighs. You barely have enough time to lift yourself up, pussy lightly brushing across his Adam’s apple as you stop yourself from crushing his windpipe. It makes you twitch.

“Good girl,” Jungkook praises with a cheeky smile that distracts you from the bullet toy he retrieves from your quivering cunt. His face is absolutely glistening from your arousal, skin warm and flush. He’s looking up at you like you’re some mythical goddess and he’s but a humble villager coming to pay his respects at the temple that is your body. Fuck, were you okay? You don’t think you’ve ever felt this good in your entire life, and Jungkook’s mushy gaze was doing things to your heart.

He presses a kiss against the inside of your thigh before helping you off of him, laughing meanly when you flop limply down beside him. He’s still fully clothed, a fact that irks you when he leans over to kiss you with that glossy face of his. “D’you like it?” he mumbles, kissing softly down your face. You nod, legs twitching from the aftermath of that wild ride. “I saw it, y’know,” he says suddenly.

“Saw what?” you mumble, mindlessly rolling your head to the side and exposing more skin when he begins kissing along your neck.

Jungkook says nothing, just rolls over you. Part of you thinks he’s crazy, but you’re suddenly hit with the realization that while Jungkook’s drawn three orgasms out of you in the course of an hour, you hadn’t done anything for him. Before you can dive head first into swallowing his cock, he’s kissing you softly. “That stupid face,” he smirks, slotting his mouth against yours. “That weird, now realistic face,” he tacks on.

You huff out a laugh, throwing your leg around his waist comfortably. Jungkook smiles, kisses you one last time before settling in your arms, face cutely pressed in between your boobs. “Hey,” you call, “don't you wanna cum too?”

He shakes his head, a soft sigh filling the air. “Nah,” he says, cuddles closer into you. “Rest now, baby.”

You roll your eyes. “I can feel your dick against my thigh,” you point out, wiggling your pelvis upward to brush against his throbbing erection. Jungkook holds you down in an effort to stop you. “Fuck me.”

He groans against your collarbone. “No, you’re tired,” he tries to convince you, but his skin is warm and flushed in the way it always gets when he’s riled up. “Sleep.”

With the leg around his hip, you pull him closer. “Fuck me, Jungkookie,” you purr, using the hands in his hair to turn his face up towards yours. His dark eyes are drawn down cutely, pouty lips too. “Use my body,” you suggest, “I’m yours anyway.”

His eyes flutter shut, a quiet whimper falling from his lips. “Don’t say that,” he sighs, “makes me wanna do very mean things to you.”

You smile. “You can do whatever you want to me, don’t you know that?” Another groan, his head falling forward until he’s hiding in your neck. Still, there’s movement from below, he sweats slipping down at his hips until that throbbing cock is pressed into the tiny crease where your thigh meets your pelvis. There’s a moment of hesitation, and you wonder if this is what he felt like earlier when he’d managed to get you to sit on his face. “Inside, Jungkookie,” you murmur, reaching down to line him up with your sensitive entrance. He whines softly, arms wrapping around you as he pulls you close. “Good boy.”

Despite your earlier belief that you’d never survive an encounter with Jungkook after using such a term on him, the result is much different from what you had anticipated. He visibly melts into your arms, cock slipping past your folds easily. “No,” he says, his voice feathery and whiny against your ear. “I can’t.”

You soothe a hand down his back, eyes fluttering shut as he begins slowly rutting against your swollen lips. “That’s it,” you encourage, tugging softly at his wavy hair. Jungkook moans wantonly against your neck, rolling his hips harshly against you until his arms are the only things keeping you from jostling out of his hold. “Do you like this pussy?” you ask, purposefully clenching around him, tummy tightening at the stimulation you keep packing on.

Jungkook shudders, pace growing slipping inside of you. “Yes,” he pants, “s-so wet… creamy.”

“Yeah?” you huff, pressing a smiley kiss against his forehead. “It’s yours.”

“Ffffuck,” Jungkook chokes, picking up his pace as his well-deserved orgasm reaches its peak. He’s breathing harshly now, and it’s taking everything in you to keep your pussy tight around him. But after the night he’d given you, the sounds and faces he pulled from you, it’s the least you can do. Besides, your body, after being so thoroughly pleased, still rears up for one final orgasm with him. “Mine,” he growls, bucking his hips into you. “You’re mine, baby, mine,” he seethes, ending his little tryst with a piston of his hips that makes you gasp, body almost unconsciously spasming around him. It’s painful, but so, so delicious how he manages to pull this last orgasm from you as he finally busts inside of you.

He comes with a stuttering garble of words, none of which you catch as he collapses into your hold for the final time that night. “Fuck,” he pants afterwards, leaning into your touch when he finally registers the soft combing of fingers through his hair. “That was evil.”

You laugh, pulling him closer. “As evil as you making me suffer through three orgasms before putting your dick in me?” you tease. Jungkook slips out of you, and you know it’ll be a hassle to clean your sheets tomorrow but it’s worth it.

“It’s called building the scene,” he weakly defends, blindly tugging the puffy blanket over the two of you. “I was gonna rhyme it with that horrible website you made me use but I already forgot it’s name.”

“Rude,” you snap, “it’s called KissAnime.”

“And fore-play,” he suddenly says, and you almost yank his eyeballs out of their sockets for doing that stupid thing again.

—

epilogue 

Two weeks later, your favorite website and home to hentai ads is shut down after years of piracy. Jungkook laughs at your demise, sits and actually cackles at your heartbreak, until he eventually comforts you with his flaming demon cock and a subscription to both Crunchyroll and Funimation. Doyeon spends weeks tracking down a missing package, apparently some freebie she’d gotten for being such an avid customer on Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! before eventually finding it in your drawer. And because her and Jungkook have some awkward life-long rivalry for your attention, he doesn’t pay for that. 

—

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[cdroloisms]

take a shot - dsmp!mcc fic

MCC FIC! MCC FIC! MCC FIC! To be clear, I outlined this weeks back, when teams were first announced, and I took very very little from the actual MCC itself when it came to actually writing this - all I have are the same teams, but it really exists in its own continuity outside of Real Life MCC (obviously, as it’s using the dsmp characters) and everything like that as a whole! Just to be clear :D)

The worldbuilding is also Absolutely Bullshitted start to finish, as well as any and all medical information. Rip. We’re here for a good time, not for a long or particularly accurate one - hope you guys enjoy regardless!! I had a LOT of fun writing this fic, dsmp!mcc aus my BELOVED

title obviously from win it all by derivakat

---

Michael loves MCC.

But it’s one thing to love the normal Championships and quite another when his team looks like it’s falling apart from the inside out - and as the games progress, it becomes more and more obvious that losing, this time, might not be an option.

tws: C!QUACKITY CRITICAL (sorry i promise i love him but he is NOT portrayed very nicely here, very dark portrayal of him), implied trauma, abuse, torture, panic attacks, manipulation, gaslighting, needles, hospitals, MCC-typical violence, emotional distress, prison arc, pandora’s vault themes

(16k words !! :D long boi) 

Michael loves MCC.

Of course he does! It’s fucking MCC - like, who wouldn’t love it? MCC is how he met so many people, how he met Dream, that one time, the two of them teamed with Techno and Burren and winning it all - MCC is a goddamn blast and he’s thankful every time he gets the invite that he’s able to compete. 

Still- it’s hard not to be a little more nervous, now. 

Dream gave him an invite to his SMP right after they teamed, but it wasn’t until months later that Michael actually cashed it in. Entering the server, it became very obvious very quickly that the DreamSMP, as it’s known, isn’t quite the same as its shiny media appearance. The spawn was covered in blocks, creeper holes littering the ground. The people he passed were grey-faced, too stoic to be the same, smiling faces he remembers from only less than a year ago. The air stings of gunpowder and iron. Worst of all are The Crater, shoddily covered in glass that does nothing to hide the damage done, rending the server in two straight down to bedrock, and the Prison, looming on the horizon. Absent-mindedly, Michael rubs at his left shoulder, remembering the Warden setting the prongs of his trident against the skin in warning, just hard enough to barely draw blood. Yeah, that place is bad news. 

The fact of the matter is the server is a mess. And like, okay, whatever, Michael gets it. Everyone has their issues - it’s just the DreamSMP seems to have more than most. Despite his original worries, it’s honestly not been as bad as he originally feared upon logging in; yeah, Bad and Puffy and Foolish and the rest of them are a little more trigger-happy than he might’ve expected (and he’s not going to say that Bad crying over turtles wasn’t a little startling when he first joined, but honestly he thinks Bad is just Like That.) There’s way more death than he’s really comfortable with, and Puffy keeps mentioning Bad murdering her son (Foolish? He thinks? The guy is also a literal God but like, families are weird, who’s he to judge) in a way that’s way too casual to come from anyone entirely well-adjusted, but overall his experience has been alright. 

Still, he gets the feeling that nobody exactly wants the outside world to know about the issues with the place. It’s not an issue for him usually, not when his sleeping schedule is the exact opposite of most of the people he knows and he spends most of his time screwing around on the server, anyway (usually harassing the Warden until the asscrack of dawn if he’s being honest) but with MCC, with everyone watching - he’s starting to get why everyone from the SMP was so damn tense all the time, now. 

Anyway- he loves MCC, he really does. But even that doesn’t stop him from wincing when he sees his team card, the names Dream and Quackity and Sapnap written in Scott’s looping handwriting. He’s not seen Sapnap at all since joining the server, has only heard a little about his place (something Kingdom, not that he was paying attention) from Foolish, and has no idea what the man has been up to. Quackity is his own unique can of worms; Michael doesn’t know exactly what’s up with him and his country, but everything he’s heard so far has sounded like nothing but bad news, casinos and schemes and a trail of wreckage following wherever he goes. And Dream-

Michael looks out his window, chewing on his lip, looking directly in the direction where he knows the prison stands, impenetrable, intimidating. Where Dream’s cell is, in line with his house, where he’s been hidden for months without a trace. Where the Warden had confronted him that one night, a dangerous gleam in his eyes, blood splattered on his boots. 

There’s no real ignoring an MCC invite - not without good reason, not without the admins picking up on something being up. There’s not really a choice, here, but for Michael to duck his head down and pretend everything’s fine just like everyone else from the SMP. He directs one last glance at the prison before walking away, setting the invite on his counter. If he’s lucky, everything will turn out fine. 

(He ignores the part of him that asks what’s going to happen if they’re not. No point in worrying about what hasn’t happened yet - right?) 

---

Weeks pass, the tournament creeping closer, and Michael gets no alerts from his teammates on his comm. No one comes to his house to check in, say hi, not even a ‘hey, we’re kinda competing in a massive tournament in like, seven days, you ready?’ Hell, he even starts checking his goddamn mailbox for a letter or something only to come up empty-handed every time. Never mind performing well - it’ll be a miracle if their team manages to arrive at the tournament at all. 

It isn’t until the day before MCC, the sun high in the sky at what must be near noon, when he finally gets a message on his comm. Michael fishes it out with a frustrated huff, seeing Quackity’s name pop up first when he manages to turn on the screen. 

Quackity whispers to you: you down for some practice?

It takes a couple seconds for him to blink away his shock - out of everyone he expected to arrange practice for their team, Quackity was definitely not at the top of the list. He half-thought they would have to drag him to the tournament kicking and screaming; from what he’s heard, he’s been nothing if not devoted to his country. Shaking his head, he goes to reply; practice is practice, and their team really needs it. 

You whisper to Quackity: sure. practice server?

Quackity whispers to you: yes

Pulling up his server list, Michael scrolls for the practice server, finding it and then letting the server transfer do the rest. A few nausea-inducing seconds later, he’s at the practice server spawn, standing in the middle of a neatly paved road surrounded by colorful arenas and signs. 

“Michael!” 

He turns; there, by the Battle Box arenas, Quackity is waving at him, already dressed in a red varsity jacket and a pair of shorts, the jacket bearing a front pocket embroidered with a rabbit and a large R stitched onto the back. He reaches behind him for a red bag, throws it his way for Michael to catch mid-air. 

“Got these outfits for us last minute - hope it’s alright with you,” Quackity smiles, and Michael tries to prevent his eyes from clinging to the scar spanning the entire left side of his face. “Anyway- how are you, man? I feel like we haven’t seen each other at all on the server. How’s it been?”

“I’m good- it’s been good.” Michael opens the drawstring bag, cataloguing the contents - there’s a jacket, just like Quackity’s, a pair of shorts and sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a headband, all in varying shades of red and white. “Nice outfit- thank you. Is anyone else around?”

Quackity waves a hand behind him. “Yeah- Dream’s here. Should be coming out of the arena soon, actually.” Michael looks over behind his shoulder to where he’s pointing - there, walking down the stairs, is another figure wearing all red that must be Dream. “There he is- hey Dream! Michael’s here!” 

Dream hurries down the stairs; unlike Quackity, he is wearing the sweatpants along with the same jacket, hands stuffed in his pockets. His hair is a lot longer than Michael remembers, pulled back behind his head in a ponytail, mask, as usual, fastened over his face. He settles behind Quackity, giving Michael a small wave; his hands are covered by a pair of fingerless gloves. 

“Hey, Dream!” Michael grins; it’s been such a long time since he’s seen his old teammate, and despite the circumstances and everything that’s apparently happened since then, it’s still pretty damn nice to see him. “How’ve you been?”

Dream seems to freeze for a moment, before shaking his head. “Good,” he says, quiet, sounding almost breathless. Michael’s eyes go to the slivers of skin that show on either side of his face, to the slight shake to his hands. 

“You alright? You look a little pale,” Michael asks, and he definitely doesn’t miss the way Dream stills at the words, muscles tensing, gaze averting to the side even with the mask - doesn’t miss how Quackity steps forward, looking Michael in the eye as he tosses a casual arm around Dream’s shoulder, smiling brightly. 

“Don’t worry. This idiot has just been practicing a bit too much before you got here,” Quackity gestures with a flippant twist of his wrist, “You know how he gets. Right, Dream?” 

“Um- yeah. Ha,” Dream responds just a little too late to be strictly normal, shoulders tight and nearly pulled to his ears under Quackity’s arm. “Practice- I’m a little out of shape.” 

“You sure?” Dream’s breathing hitches and Quackity steps forward, just a little bit, eyes still fixed firmly on Michael’s own even as he shifts his gaze to try and look at Dream. “We can take a break if you need, Dream-”

“I’m fine!” Dream smiles with a little stuttered breath that turns into a small laugh, “It’s- uh. It’s fine. Thanks Michael, but we can practice. Not much time left to waste, you know?”

“You sure, Dream?” Quackity says, suddenly, voice soft and sincere. “I guess it has been a while since you’ve been able to practice- you sure you don’t need a break?”

Dream shakes his head firmly. “No- it’s fine. Really- where’s Sapnap? He should be coming soon, right?”

“If you say so, pal,” Quackity replies, doubt coloring his tone as he pulls out his communicator. “I told Sapnap to come, he replied a couple minutes back; he should be here soon, I think. You want to go meet him at spawn?”

Dream nods, and they begin to set out towards the center of the server, Quackity and Dream quickly taking the lead as Michael falls back. After a minute, Quackity falls into casual conversation, rambling about something as Dream nods, Michael trailing behind the two of them and adding his own input as he sees fit. Sapnap arrives soon after, and the noise level picks up even more after that, Sapnap and Quackity falling into an easy rhythm of banter and quips as they set out to practice Battle Box and Parkour Tag, carefully working their way through the different games under Dream’s tutelage and advice. 

And here’s the thing- Michael isn’t stupid. Yeah, he’d hardly consider himself a top tier MCC player, and he’ll be the first to say that he’s nowhere near qualified to deal with the literal laundry list of issues that affect every member of the SMP, but even so, he’s not clueless. He’s good at looking at multiple sides of a situation, doesn’t easily give into intimidation or manipulation, and he’s observant as all hell. So when Quackity wraps his hand around Dream’s wrist, fingers wrapping all the way around until his knuckles pale, when Dream winces, muscles in his arm locking before letting it go limp, not protesting when Quackity drags him forward except in the tiny, tight expressions that flit across his face every few moments, tight and gasping and shaky at the corners - Michael notices. 

“See you at the tourney, yeah?” Quackity calls to him after practice with a wink before clapping Dream on the back, Michael watching silently as the muscles of Dream’s neck pull tight, head ducking to his chest. “Good job, big guy,” he says, laughing. “Keep this up for tomorrow and we’ll be good.”

“Mmhm,” Dream mutters after a brief second, “We’re- we’re gonna win.”

“Betting on it, pal,” Quackity replies, voice light in a way that completely fails to explain Dream’s full-body flinch. “MCC, huh? Can’t fucking wait.”

“See you tomorrow, Quackity,” Michael says as he presses DreamSMP on his server list, pretending that a chill doesn’t crawl down his spine at the smile that the other man throws his way in return. 

---

There’s no real easy answer.

Michael comes to that conclusion at some point in the middle of the night, restless and pumped on way too much adrenaline to go to sleep. He can’t outright antagonize Quackity, can’t let him know he knows something’s up - not when Quackity had already spent the majority of practice keeping one dark, narrowed eye on him at all times, lips pursed in a slight frown whenever he thought Michael wasn’t looking. He’s not stupid; whatever’s happening between Dream and Quackity is secret, and kept that way for a reason. His mind goes back to the brief flashes of anxiety that had moved over Dream’s face before he could react fast enough to school them back into a carefully neutral position; whatever it is, he doubts it bodes well for Dream in the slightest. 

Unfortunately, his hands are pretty damn tied. He knows public opinion on the masked man in the server is overwhelmingly negative, but has no damn idea how far it extends. How many people are in on whatever’s happening in that damn prison? How many people know what would make Dream, bold and bright and recklessly confident in all of Michael’s (rather limited) memories, into someone so quiet, unimposing, nervous? His head spins with the possibilities, with the ever-present reminder to not make a fuss, let the tournament pass on, to never, ever let anyone find out what’s going on within the SMP. Should he do anything at all? 

Too soon, it’s morning, and he drags himself out of bed with a groan to glare at the sun streaming through his window. Somewhere, Quackity and Dream and Sapnap are also waking up, are preparing to compete in one of the biggest damn tournaments to exist. Michael sighs, glancing over to where he’s set out his outfit, freshly pressed and waiting. Any other day, and he’d probably be fucking ecstatic. Here, he buries his head in his hands, muffling a frustrated groan against the palm of his hands. 

He loves MCC, but he sure as hell doesn’t like whatever the hell is going on with the rest of his team. 

Getting into the server goes smoothly enough. The outfit is comfortable and looks damn good, props to whoever made the thing, and the sight of the multicolored crowd successfully manages to tamp down some of his nerves. He busies himself with saying hi to all of the members waiting in the lobby, happy for the chance to talk to some people he hasn’t seen in ages, feels the night of anxieties wash away with every stupid joke told and burst of laughter drawn from his lungs. 

They come back the moment Scott steps up in front of the lobby. “Teams, it’s time to head to your team rooms! The tournament will begin in fifteen minutes,” Scott says, expression sunny and bright, “we’re wishing you all luck for a great performance today! May the best team win!” 

In a flurry of movement, they’re all whisked to their rooms for a final few minutes of preparation and morale-boosting, and Michael enters the glorified dressing room to Quackity, Dream, and Sapnap already standing there, seemingly in the middle of conversation. 

“You ready to win?” Sapnap yells, and Quackity whoops, and Michael manages a small cheer of his own. They’re all visibly nervous; Quackity has scarcely stopped moving, pacing from one side of the room to the next; Sapnap is basically jumping in place where he stands. Dream stands at the very back of the room, looking tense; Michael directs a wave his way and gets a small one in return. 

“Game plan, game plan,” Quackity mutters, “do we know what games we’re playing first? Dream?”

He nods at Dream, and Dream stands up straighter, mouth falling open.

“Oh- um,” he hesitates, a strand of hair flopping forwards as he tilts his head in thought. “We’ll want to save Parkour Tag and Battle Box towards the end- maybe something more high-risk at the beginning, but not first, just to boost morale,” his teeth catch on his bottom lip, “Maybe something like To Get To The Other Side? If they have that- or Build Mart, if we can get it out of the way.” He shakes his head. “If that’s alright- I mean-”

“Great,” Quackity cuts in smoothly. “Sapnap? Michael? Does that sound good to you?”

Sapnap flashes a thumbs up, and Michael nods. “Yeah, sounds great. Thanks, Dream.”

Dream’s head snaps towards him, mouth slightly open in shock. The sight of it makes Michael’s gut twist uncomfortably; there’s something about how surprised he is, at the nervous hesitancy with which he spoke that was nothing like what Michael remembers of his easy leadership in that MCC with Techno, that doesn’t sit right at all in his stomach. Even with his expression largely hidden, there’s no mistaking the clear, genuine surprise on his face at the idea of someone thanking him - Michael tries to tell himself that he’s reading too much into it as Quackity continues to speak. 

“We’re going to win,” he grins, just a little too sharp at the edges, “so get out there and play like your lives depend on it, yeah?” 

Sapnap cheers, and again, Michael and Dream follow. It’s not until he’s outside the door, within the clamor of screaming teams and people counting down with the timer that Michael realizes that Quackity was staring at Dream the entire time. 

---

Michael curses, frustrated, when he’s knocked off a platform again, making sure to flip Krinios the bird before he falls into the Void entirely. When he makes it to the other side, Quackity and Dream are already deep in conversation - if you can call it that. Even from here, it looks worryingly one-sided.

“-were you thinking, falling off there-” Quackity’s hand is on Dream’s shoulder, Dream standing stock-still in front of him, “you better be taking this seriously, Dream.”

“Hey- sorry about that,” Michael calls with a wave, “I swear Krinios had it out for me. At least I made it across, right?” 

Quackity turns, startled, and in the split-second that it takes for him to register Michael’s appearance, his expression smooths over into something friendlier, more inviting. “Michael!” He says, enthusiastic, and it’s like the anger that had filled his words just seconds before was never there at all. “Don’t- don’t worry about it, man. We all kinda dropped the ball on that one, right Dream?” 

The words should be encouraging, just simple ribbing between teammates. Dream’s mask is still ducked down, facing the floor, shoulders slightly hunched in. 

“Um- Sapnap did pretty good,” Dream says, quiet, “he got top ten, right?” 

Michael looks over to where Sapnap is standing a little ways away, seemingly busy typing on his communicator. Quackity laughs, sharp and loud. 

“True,” he punches Dream lightly on the upper arm, and Michael watches the way he freezes the second the fist makes contact with his jacket, “come on, man, you’re losing your touch. You really gonna let yourself get beat by Sapnap?” he shakes his head, still laughing as he pulls open his communicator. “Jesus- even I beat you in that last round. Watch your spot, Dream, I’m coming for you.” 

“I mean,” Michael says when a second passes and it becomes clear Dream isn’t going to respond, “Dream was doing pretty well with the last two rounds, right? I thought I saw his name pretty far up there.” 

Quackity takes a second before responding, again, staring at Michael oddly as he does. “That’s true,” he concedes, “hey- I was just making a joke, don’t worry. It’s all for fun, right Dream?”

His gaze goes to Dream, and automatically, Michael follows. Dream seems to startle under the attention, twitching Quackity’s direction in the awkward silence that results. Michael watches as the mask slants slightly to face Quackity, as Quackity looks back at him with an intense, unreadable expression, shoulders strangely tense. Whatever unsaid conversation that seems to pass between them is entirely lost on Michael as Dream finally responds with a sudden, almost strangled bark of laughter. 

“Yeah- just jokes,” his fingers twist over one another, hands held close together in front of his body, “Though Qu- Q’s right, I- I should probably pick it up. We’re playing to win.” 

A ding alerts them to the end of the round, and Michael steadies himself in preparation for the teleport to the next map. As he turns, he catches Quackity’s expression, once again, and the self-satisfied smirk on his face as he continues to look at Dream. 

“Good luck,” he calls just before they enter the next round, and tries not to think too much about what he’s saying it for. 

---

They manage pretty well for the rest of To Get To The Other Side, finishing with a second place overall that got cheers from Sapnap and even a slight smile from Dream. Hole in the Wall, on the other hand, has been a lot less successful - though Michael will be the first to say that it’s his fault. His practice in the last few months has been lackluster (at best) and it definitely showed in the arena. 

He leans over the railing, watching Dream and Sapnap through the crowd of participants left that have yet to be knocked out by the giant walls of slime. Quackity’s standing next to him, having been similarly thrown off the platform early in the round, expression tight and lips set in a small frown, and looking at him for too long makes Michael uneasy so he looks down at the arena again. They’re in the last round, and they’re supposed to be making callouts anyway for their teammates still participating below.

Without thinking, once again, Michael looks over at Dream. Sue him, he knows the guy best and Dream has been acting odd all day, to put it lightly. Even ignoring the part of him that’s screaming that something’s wrong, that there’s something up that has everything to do with the beanie-wearing man standing besides him, it only takes a few minutes of observation to see that Dream is - for the lack of a better word - off. Michael watches as he vaults over another wall, only barely managing to bring himself to his feet in time on the other side. Dream’s movements - even to his untrained eye - have always been fluid, effortless. He jumped and vaulted and ran like gravity didn’t exist, like every physics-bending maneuver he made was as easy as breathing. Michael remembers watching him sprint over the parkour course before, time completely unmatched as he appraised each obstacle and basically flew his way through, sounding hardly even winded when he whooped loudly in victory from the top of the salmon ladder. In total contrast, Dream jerks away from the coming wall again, movements sloppy and harsh as he scrambles to the other side of the disc-shaped arena. He’s still fast, and still making jumps, but everything is strangely angled where it had once been fluid, stopping and starting suddenly, moving in bursts of speed and then skidding to sudden stops. 

“WEST!” Quackity shouts, and Michael watches as Dream’s head turns jerkily at the noise before he dives out of the way of the incoming wall and manages, barely, to twist around the side. Michael winces at the tumble he takes on the opposite side, clutching his chest slightly as he stands back up again. 

“North!” Michael calls, because he should probably actually help his teammates, huh, and Dream manages to move around this one better, jumping through a hole in the wall and tucking and rolling as he lands. “Nice jump- East!” 

It’s an easy wall, thankfully, and both Sapnap and Dream visibly take a breath as they stand in place for the wall to pass over them. As it passes, a droning buzz comes from the speakers, and the walls below them speed up. 

“South-to your right!” Michael shouts as they turn, eyes turning between all of the false walls before finally focusing on the right one, his shout echoed by a similar one from Quackity. At each one of the calls from the man besides him, Dream seems to tighten further, movements increasingly erratic as he dodges and weaves around the walls. There’s still a lot of people left - Michael follows Dream through the crowd with a frown, watching as he and Sapnap jump the next wall, Dream’s foot nearly catching on the top edge. 

“West-” Dream flinches, jumping over the two-high wall at the last possible second, landing completely off-balance on the other side and falling to the ground. He scrambles to his feet, but there’s already a wall at the west edge of the platform - his head turns, still searching for the wall - Quackity yells.

“LEFT!”

Something in Dream’s movements seem to shift, even in the distance - Michael watches as he immediately, almost robotically, steps to the left at Quackity’s voice, not even jumping, not turning his head to take in his surroundings, just moving instinctually at the words, and slams into the coming wall hard enough to get flung into the middle hole in the platform. Quackity curses, fist crashing into the railing as Dream falls and the chat message shows on their communicators, and a second later he’s materialized beside them, face oddly slack and mask focused somewhere faraway. 

“Shit,” Dream mutters when he seems to come back into himself, shaking his head and then turning to the two of them, still by the railing, “Dammit. Sorry, I-“ 

“Don’t worry about it,” Michael cuts in before Quackity can speak. “You did good.” 

“I-” Dream catches Quackity’s gaze, then pushes his head away, mask facing the ground. Something about it and his raised shoulders and the dark, angry glare that Quackity directs over the railing when Michael looks back makes him shift in place, uneasy. “Could’ve done better, ha. Sorry.” 

The three of them watch, silent, as Sapnap continues to compete. He manages to get pretty damn far, making it to the top three, but getting knocked off-balance by a wall and off the platform just before the timer sounds. Michael cringes back at the sound of it over the speakers, watches the other contestants settle into place, panting, in victory.

“Great job, Sapnap,” Michael shouts when he materializes in front of them, and the other two are quick to echo his sentiments. If they sound a little duller than they should be, if Quackity’s jaw seems clenched and Dream’s all coiled up like a spring, far too tense, it’s from placing lower than they wanted and slipping in the rankings, not anything else.

Keep your head down, Michael reminds himself, and everything’s gonna be fine. And if the words ring more and more hollow with every repetition, well, that’s for him to ignore and for everyone else to never, ever find out. 

---

Buildmart is chosen next, which they all groan at, but at least it’s going to be out early and not left to ruin all of their scores later. Michael takes his place at his build, one third from the left side - it’s some abomination of colored glass and white concrete meant, if he is to guess, to emulate a stained glass window. He’s between Dream and Sapnap, the former positioned in front of a flower-dotted grass field with a picnic table, the latter staring down a miniature car with black concrete for tires and stone buttons for detailing. He breathes a steady breath as they await the countdown, already planning for his trip to the Colors section to grab materials for his build and the others’- Buildmart isn’t his strongest game, but it’s not his worst either, and he’s damn well going to try his best. 

He skids into the portal with an armful of colored concrete and glass, spilling half of its contents inside a chest before running to his build. He pulls himself to the crafting bench to craft - he squints at his build - he needs four red glass panes and 3 yellow, right. As he brings the panes to his inventory and begins laying out the frame of the build in concrete, he looks over to Dream, who is noticeably struggling with placing the flowers in his build and getting the placements to match that of the original. He knocks away a white tulip with a muffled curse, sounding frantic as he looks back to the original, and places it again to no avail. 

It seems that his struggle hasn’t only caught Michael’s attention, as the statue to the leftmost side of the room explodes in gold coins and confetti - Quackity has finished his build and is now looking at Dream with narrowed eyes. Dream places the flower again, and the build refuses to respond. Quackity’s gaze narrows further, and he opens his mouth-

“Hey Quackity!” Michael starts speaking before he’s even noticed that he’s opened his mouth, fumbling as he regains awareness of what he’s doing and tries to find a direction for his sentence to go, “do you have any concrete?”

Quackity looks at him like he’s grown a second head, which is fair, considering there’s a block of white concrete pretty obviously visible in his hand. “Um- no? Weren’t you supposed to go to Colors?”

Dream finally manages to place the tulip where it belongs, and the build between them disappears in another explosion of gold glitter. Michael laughs awkwardly. 

“Sorry- haha. I got a little mixed up.” He places the last piece of white concrete, watching as his own build disappears. A little wooden cottage takes its place, made of what appears to be just oak wood and cobblestone. “Are you going to get wood? Or should I?”

“I- You get wood,” Quackity shakes his head, visibly frustrated, “And I’ll get stone. We have to hurry, we’re falling behind.” 

After that, Michael finds it a little too easy - or maybe not easy, but at least tolerable, to interrupt when Quackity looks a little like he’s about to fall on the side of being angry versus just annoyed, stepping between his angry glares at Dream with a forced smile and an incessant string of annoying questions- 

“Hey Quackity, do you have any spare iron?”

“Hey Quackity, I think you placed that a little too far back.”

“Hey Quackity, can you take a look to see what I placed wrong?” 

It’s not perfect. It’s hardly even functional; Michael knows that Quackity has begun with the habit of directing death glares at his back whenever he thinks he’s not looking, his responses to Michael’s questions becoming more and more clipped, often paired with irritated grumbles and sighs. Sapnap, when Michael looks at him, seems largely engrossed with his own builds, but he’s also begun looking over at the two of them with a vaguely dissatisfied expression, and Dream only seems to be getting more jumpy with every frustrated growl out of Quackity’s mouth. Even Michael’s forced levity and falsely ignorant questions can’t do much against Quackity’s anger when they walk out of Buildmart dead last for the minigame, dropping their team all the way down to seventh in the overall rankings, and the tension within the team as they walk out - Quackity nearly stomping, Dream following with his hands wringing around each other and head ducked fearfully - is almost enough to make Michael scream. He looks at the scoreboard with a worried expression as he enters the Decision Dome, trying to quell the sinking feeling in his gut. 

There’s still five more games to go, and he’s not sure how long they can last before something snaps. 

---

Battle Box is chosen next, and they react to the game with quiet cheers and slightly grim faces. Michael’s been in enough MCCs to know that this game, of any, is crucial - after their lacking performances in the last two games, a good showing at Battle Box will be crucial to pull them back into the competition and raise morale. With Sapnap and Dream, if this were any normal game, they should be able to sweep through a good amount of the competition without much effort. As it is, though, Michael looks at the two more combat-oriented members of his team with a worried expression, the two barely even able to meet each other’s eyes. Their interactions so far have been less than promising- if they can’t hold it together for this round, well. 

Michael shakes his head. They’ll do fine. They have to. 

Even so, the first round only seems to confirm his concerns - they get woolrushed almost immediately, and in Dream and Sapnap’s stumbling to get to mid, nearly crashing into each other and focusing their efforts on the same player by accident, the other team manages to fill out the wool, sending them back to the spawn box even more frustrated than before. 

“Amazing teamwork, guys,” Quackity snarks immediately, and Michael rolls his eyes. 

“Like you did that much.” 

Sapnap is still staring at Dream oddly, Dream turning his head to avoid his gaze. The two of them look largely oblivious to Quackity and his whole deal, even as Quackity whirls around to give him the stink eye. 

“You didn’t do anything either, if I remember correctly,” Quackity mutters, and Michael shrugs. 

“Fair.” 

A ding alerts them to the round’s end, and they resign themselves to preparing for the next round. Michael picks the extra arrows from the wall, knowing that no one else will want the kit, and watches as Dream anxiously runs his hands over the crossbow. 

The next round goes better, barely; Michael and Quackity end up knocked out pretty early, but Dream and Sapnap manage to kill the rest of the team soon after. He watches from the box as they fill in the wool, Dream looking awfully tense as he shears away the white wool for Sapnap to fill it with red. Quackity watches them both with a tight expression, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. 

Michael turns away, ignoring him, going back to watching Dream and Sapnap still standing within the arena. Both of them look awkward, oddly out of step with each other - Michael’s not watched them fight much, but he knows that they have a reputation as a pair, was there for the Sky Battle round where they completely wiped through the competition. Even here, Sapnap moves forward and Dream flinches back - there’s something heavy and tense between them, lingering in the few words they’ve spoken to each other, if they’ve even spoken to each other at all, one always rushing forward too fast or following just a little too slow. They’re still brilliant fighters, almost unrivaled in hand-to-hand combat and with swords, but the faltering communication is sure to hurt them more in the future. 

His worries come true just three rounds later, the two in between being narrow wins for their team, each a little more shaky than would be comfortable. Michael has found himself easing off the worst of his anxiety in verbally sparring with Quackity, jabbing at the other with offhand remarks and little needling jokes to keep his attention off the other two, especially as his glare has become more pronounced and his words more angry. Even so, nothing he does or can do will fix the odd tension between Dream and Sapnap, whose communication remains as stilted and awkward as ever. 

They’re facing a stronger team, PVP wise, with Punz and Seapeekay, and Michael ends up falling in a bow duel against Jack. He watches as the Captain falls to a potion by Sapnap, then as Jack is taken out by a crossbow bolt courtesy of Dream, just before Quackity falls to a well-timed bow shot from the opposing team. 

That leaves the strongest PVPers to battle it out, and Dream and Sapnap manage to team up and kill CPK - but not without taking a nasty damage potion to the face that must leave the two of them low. Michael watches Punz, booking it to mid with a crossbow, anxiously - both of them would be a oneshot with the thing, and on the condition that he takes no damage before fighting with either of them outright, he’s probably got enough health to hold out a few hits. 

Sapnap pulls out a health potion, and Michael grins - that’ll be good for the two of them, and should secure them the win - only for him to gesture roughly with his sword and for Dream to stagger backwards, panic flashing over his face. He only seems to grow more fearful at the sound of glass shattering on the ground, falling backwards further - far enough to be largely out of range of health pot - and in their shock, Punz manages to catch both of them off guard and nail Sapnap with a crossbow bolt that downs him for the round before similarly dispatching Dream in two hits of his sword.

Sapnap explodes upon respawn in the box - “What was that? I had a health pot!”

“I-” Dream fumbles, face still oddly pale, “Sorry I didn’t- I- I-”

“We had that round!” Sapnap’s arms flail forward as he gestures angrily, Dream freezing further as one hand skims past his shoulder. “I can’t believe- I had a health pot! Punz was on, like, half! We could’ve killed him!”

“Easy, easy,” Quackity moves forward, putting a hand on both of their shoulders - Sapnap seems to relax immediately, while Dream, if anything, only looks more tense. “It’s time for the next round - we’ll talk about this later, alright?” 

Dream nods, movements overly tense, and Quackity flashes a toothy smile his way as Sapnap moves back, still mumbling to himself. He and Quackity move to talk in the back corner, words quiet enough that Michael cannot make them out, and something sick and cold slithers over his spine. Sapnap and Quackity are fiancés, aren’t they? 

Michael looks over at Dream, mask still covering his face as he looks away through the glass to the arena, shoulders still tight as Michael’s pretty sure they’ve been for as long as he’s seen him since he came onto the server. He remembers the panic that make itself obvious on his face every time Quackity came up to him, even as covered as it is, the similar- if not the same- fear that had painted his face when he respawned fresh off of the Battle Box round after Sapnap’s sword had passed a little too close to his body. 

Quackity and Dream- he’s sure, even if he doesn’t want to admit it, that there’s something going on there, dark and dreadful and poisonous. Who’s to say that Sapnap isn’t involved, as well? 

---

They finish Battle Box decently well, but not as well as they’d hoped, pulling them up to fifth place with a decently large gap between them and fourth. Quackity and Dream disappear immediately as the Audience Votes begin coming in, leaving Sapnap and Michael to stand awkwardly in the lobby to wait for the rest of their team to come back. Michael watches the crowd for a glimpse of Quackity and Dream, comes up empty. A sigh fizzles through his teeth as he looks up into the sky, the endless blue doing little to ease his nerves - he’s worried, even if he doesn’t want to think about it, for his teammates. For Dream. 

It doesn’t take a genius to see that the man is scared of Quackity, that there’s an odd sort of history there that Michael conveniently has no information about. Whatever it is, it’s left Dream unsure and uncharacteristically nervous, left the entire team floundering without proper leadership to tie them all together. Really, a part of him knows that the Championships should be the least of his concerns - if he were braver, or a little better at combat, or a little less inclined to just let things pass as they always have, then he’d be raising a fuss. Getting in the way, talking to Dream, doing something other than making backhanded compliments to Quackity that he’s sure have been doing little more than annoy the man further. 

“Michael?” Sapnap comes within his line of sight, lips pressed together in a carefully put-together expression that Michael is sure will collapse the moment they’re away from others’ prying eyes, “Can we speak for a moment?”

Michael forces another easy smile to his face as he turns towards his teammate, feels a little disgusted at the amount of them he’s had to use to simply function with the rest of his team. “Sure! Where to?”

They walk at a brisk pace to the team room, Sapnap’s eyes focused forwards the entire time, not speaking. If he’s being honest, it’s a little awkward, but the lighthearted comment on his tongue to break the silence dies out the minute Sapnap closes the door and looks back at him with fierce, focused eyes boring into him. 

“What’s your deal?” He hisses immediately, words pitched low even though he doesn’t really have to - there’s no one nearby, and the team rooms are decently soundproofed. Michael feels his hackles rising as Sapnap’s arms cross in front of him, eyes still focused on his own as he talks. “I’m not going to lie- I don’t know you that well, even though you’re on the SMP now, but can you quit it with Quackity already?”

“Quit what?” Michael snarks - sue him - matching Sapnap’s tone with irritation of his own. 

“Don’t- you’ve been antagonizing Quackity all day,” Sapnap’s hand runs through his hair, messing up his hair and tangling it into knots, “And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re kind of in the middle of a competition here? So it’d be really nice if you could save the fighting for until after we’re done?”

“Says you?” Michael can’t help the retort this time, huffing irately at the offended expression that flashes over the other’s face, “I don’t really know if you’ve noticed, but your teamwork has been a little less than stellar, today. Pot calling the kettle black, much?”

“What-” Sapnap looks confused, even through his anger, gesturing more and more wildly. “What do you even mean?”

“Oh, so are we just ignoring what just happened in Battle Box then?” 

Sapnap’s eyes flash as he closes into himself again, hands gripping at his upper arms as he crosses his arms in front of his chest once again. “That- that’s different. That’s because of Dream.”

“Oh, just keep blaming it on the other guy, why don’t you?”

“No-” Sapnap shakes his head furiously. “You haven’t been on here for nearly as long, you don’t get it, Michael. Dream- he’s-,” Sapnap flails, and Michael groans at the familiar words. 

“Dream’s what? I was on the team with the guy before, you know. It’s kind of the reason why he invited me in the first place?” He raises an eyebrow. “We worked together perfectly well then - am I supposed to believe that his self-proclaimed ‘best friend’ can’t do the same?” 

“You don’t understand,” Sapnap repeats, expression hard and oddly far away, “Dream- he’s changed- he’s done so many terrible things. I don’t know what he’s said to convince you, but he’s bad news, man. He’s hurt- so many people.” 

“Oh- you want to talk about hurting people?” 

Michael isn’t quite sure what comes over him - only really realizes a white-hot flash of rage lancing through his chest, a sleepless night and half a competition’s  worth of anxiety and frustration and build up combining into a sizzling spike of fury that briefly tinges his vision red. 

“How about the way Dream looks like he’s about to keel over whenever anyone gets close to him? How about how he flinches back at literally every loud noise and fast movement? How about how Quackity’s been making these stupid, angry comments at him for the entire competition that make him freeze for a minute each time? Or how about when you were in Battle Box and Dream backed away from your sword like he thought you were gonna drive it through his chest?” Michael barely feels himself stepping forward with each word, jabbing his index finger into the other’s chest. “You want to talk about hurting people? How about you go talk to that fiancé of yours and then come back to talk?” 

A loud, droning buzz comes over the speakers, alerting them of the end of the break. Michael steps back, face flushed in embarrassment, before the world whirls away and they’re teleported back into the Decision Dome. 

He adamantly refuses to meet Sapnap’s eyes as Quackity and Dream materialize in the sector with them, Quackity’s hand clamped around Dream’s upper arm as the other man keeps his eyes fixed firmly on the floor, looking even more panicked and frozen than before the break. 

“You ready to win?” Quackity laughs, and Michael watches as his hand tightens around the sleeve of Dream’s jacket, knuckles paling from the strain. 

“Yeah,” Michael tries to cheer, and it feels like ash on his tongue. “Let’s do this.” 

---

Survival Games ends up being picked next - Quackity and Sapnap quickly pull up to the front of the group, close enough to be within eyesight but too far to really pick up their conversation. Michael keeps an eye out for the reddish glow of their bodies as they scout the surrounding areas for chest, staying back with Dream as they look at the other side of the road. He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t feel a smug sort of satisfaction of Sapnap seemingly confronting Quackity about whatever the hell has been going on, as awkward as his whole outburst had been. As it is, some time with Dream is nice without Quackity watching over his shoulder like a hawk - he directs a small, genuine smile at the man by his side that Dream seems to do a double take at before shyly returning it with one of his own. 

“There- I think I see a chest,” Michael points under a lamppost, running to the wooden box and flicking the lid upwards. He pulls out a chain chestplate that he promptly puts on himself, then throws over the iron boots to his teammate as well as a small stone axe that he’s sure Dream will make better use of. “We should probably catch up to the others - don’t want to be caught off guard while separated.”

Dream nods, and the two of them pick up the pace before finding another chest that Dream rummages through, this time, finding an iron sword that Michael takes for himself and a cake. 

“You’ve been doing really well so far,” Michael says after a few minutes of quiet, words becoming more firm when Dream looks up at him with a surprised expression. “Seriously- you’ve been doing great, man.”

“Thanks,” Dream smiles, words quiet and terribly sincere, and the sinking pit in Michael’s gut returns at the tone. “Not as good as I should, though. I’ve been underperforming a lot,” he laughs a little at the words, but even to Michael’s ears it rings hollow. “It’s not over yet, though.”

“No it’s not,” Michael concedes, rearranging his inventory as they run. “But it’s good enough, man, really - just look at my rankings.”

Dream huffs. “You’ve been doing good, Michael.”

“And you’ve been doing a hell of a lot better than me,” Michael tips his head in his direction. “Give yourself some more credit, man. You’ve been playing well.”

Dream smiles again, but even now the corners of his mouth seem tight, tense. “I need to play better, though, if we want to win,” he says, matter-of-fact, analytical to a damn fault. Michael rolls his eyes, but nods to concede the point. 

“Sure, but that goes for all of us, Dream,” he shakes his head. “And it’s okay if we don’t win, you know?”

“No.” 

Michael turns, frowning. Dream’s tone has become oddly flat, eyes dead as he continues to stare at the pavement under their feet. He seems to be chewing on his lip anxiously, startled out of his own thoughts when he looks up to meet Michael’s gaze. “I mean- I don’t know. I really have- want to win.” 

There’s something so carefully worded about the admission, quiet and scraped open and raw in the slow sincerity of the words. Michael wants to poke at it, wants to understand what’s left him so unsure of every step, what determination lies behind the words that has left desperation clinging to every shallow breath he draws. A crack of thunder on the horizon, heralding a player’s death, reminds him that now is not the time. 

Keep your head down. 

“Alright,” he smiles thinly, hoping that the fracturing, yawning pit of emptiness in his chest isn’t obvious in the words. “Then we’re going to win.” 

---

Michael skids to a stop at the finish line, feeling the elytra deequip as he’s thrown into spectator mode. He runs his hands through his wind-tousled hair, feeling it strain against his fingers as he roughly finger-combs it back into place. Dream and Sapnap are off to the side, standing next to each other but seemingly not speaking - Michael smiles as he floats over, still shaking the adrenaline off from the race. 

“Hey,” the two look up, smile in recognition, and Dream waves; there’s a small smile on his face, strained but present. “You both did really good!” 

“Thanks, Michael,” Dream laughs, earnest, “I did decent, I guess- haha. Top ten at least.” 

Sapnap whoops. “We’re popping off!” Michael cheers in agreement, and their efforts manage to pull Dream’s smile a little wider as he ducks his head to look away again. 

“Thanks, guys.” 

They watch as Quackity flies through the finish line, appearing in front of them and shaking his arms out as he gets his bearings. 

“Geez- that trident,” he shakes his head, looks up. “Hey, there you guys are. How’d we do?” 

“Dream got seventh,” Sapnap scrolls through his comm, looking through the rows of contestants and their times as they come in, interspersed by the occasional chat message, “And I got 10th. Michael got- 28th, I think? And you got 32nd.” 

“Hmm,” Quackity hums, “What do you think, Dream? Is that good enough to pull us to Dodgebolt?”

Once again, Michael watches as Dream stiffens under the scrutiny, head ducking down and looking for all the world like he’d rather be anywhere else. “Um- I don’t know,” Dream mumbles, “I messed up a trident- fell into the void once, probably could’ve done better otherwise-” his voice trails off, tensing further as Quackity takes his usual spot by his side, jabbing an elbow none-too-lightly into his ribs. 

“But you didn’t, though,” Quackity says, tone flippant, “so what do you think? With those placements- is it going to be enough?” 

“Hey, we did great, man,” Michael glares at him, more forward than he’d usually be - but all he can see is the shoulder that he has pressed against Dream’s arm, the way Dream’s stood stock still since the moment he made contact, “Lay off of Dream, would you? He did great.”

“Yeah, Q,” Michael’s eyebrows raise in surprise as Sapnap chimes in from the side, rising further when Sapnap moves forward to link his arm with Quackity’s own and half-drag him away from Dream. “Chill out, man, we popped off. We’re gonna fucking win this, ok?”

Quackity’s lips press together; he’s still smiling, but there’s no mistaking the seething darkness that lingers in his narrowed eyes and furrowed eyebrows, gaze still trained on the pale off-white disk of Dream’s mask. Still, with the rest of the team against him, he’s in a losing fight and he knows it; Michael watches as he visibly backs down, rolling his shoulders back as he lets Sapnap pull him further back. 

“We’re going to fucking win this,” he repeats, and Michael wonders how he manages to make the words sound so much like a threat.

---

“Sky battle,” Sapnap calls as the decision dome below them lights up in confirmation of the penultimate game, expression immediately becoming more focused as he turns back to the rest of the team. “Alright- strats, what are we thinking?”

“There’s the iron at spawn,” Dream starts, interrupted by the teleport to the Sky Battle arena, making him cut himself off comically and take a second to shake off the resulting disorientation, “And then there’s the iron in the nearby island. We gotta pick one, tower as soon as we can.”

“Got it,” Sapnap looks down, seemingly calculating, before looking up again - Michael has heard him compared to fire before, but he thinks this is the first time he’s really seen it; there’s a veritable blaze burning in his eyes as he looks at each member of the team, easily taking charge as they prepare for the first round. “Same buddy system as Survival Games - Q, stick with me, Michael, stick with Dream. I’ll tower to the next island- Dream, you good with getting the iron at spawn and crafting armor for us?” 

Dream startles, before flashing a small thumbs up at the other - Sapnap smiles wider, teeth bared dangerously.

“This is our game,” he cheers, and Michael enthusiastically whoops in reply, “we’re winning this, you got that team? Let’s go!” 

This, Michael thinks, is the way the games should’ve gone - they jump into action upon the start of the game, Michael watching as Dream races through both chests on the spawn island, getting the iron and jumping down cleanly with a water bucket before following Sapnap’s bridge to the other island. He tosses over a pair of leggings and boots as he lands, then takes Sapnap’s excess iron to craft the other pieces of iron for himself and Sapnap as the other man begins shooting at opposing teams. Their communication is near wordless, simple one- or two-word requests communicating all they need as they follow each other seamlessly into the main arena area, sealing off their entrance as they search the ring for other teams.

Sapnap, especially, seems to have shifted - instead of waiting for Dream to take the lead, he seems comfortable barrelling on forward on his own, trusting for Dream to follow his steps. Michael watches as the two of them easily work through the two lagging members of Orange, shooting through a gap in the wall to catch an unsuspecting Yellow player chased by the border. Michael ends up dying to an unlucky block of TNT placed on his head - curses out what appears to be Quig, bounding over to the other side of the arena, and follows Dream and Sapnap as they continue to fight their way through the competition. 

It’s not perfect, for sure - Dream hesitates at a bad place a minute later, ending with Sapnap getting 2v1ed and exploding in a flash of red sparkles. Dream is similarly dispatched a few seconds after, and the three of them watch Quackity, caught in the crossfire of two other teams, before he also goes down. 

“Good work, team,” Sapnap says as he appears, disoriented, in spectator mode, and they watch the remaining two teams battling in a rapidly shrinking border before Fruit falls as well, leaving Pink as the winners. “That was close- we’ve got this.” The conviction in his voice leaves no room for argument, and Michael, briefly, feels bad for anyone that stands in the way of it. 

With the second round, they once again fall into rhythm without any major hiccups - someone tries to cut them off before entering the main arena, but are made quick work of by Sapnap’s relentless onslaught. As Michael watches, Dream seems to regain confidence as well, moving more to fight with Sapnap side by side instead of just playing support, tugging him back from a risky play and catching Punz in a nasty combo that does him in when he manages to slip past Sapnap. 

The four of them end up in the final stand off in the middle, but end up getting caught too high up and killed by the border before they can jump down. Sapnap hisses at the narrow defeat, but the disappointment has hardly seemed to dim his determination - if anything, it seems to burn brighter. 

“Last round,” he mutters, and Michael watches as Dream walks up to him, bumping him lightly with his shoulder. 

“This is our game,” he says, a small smile appearing on his face, and Sapnap returns it with a fiery, blinding one of his own. 

“Ours,” he says, and even just standing on the side, watching - Michael believes it. 

Still, his concerns have yet to disappear - they linger in his mind as they jump into an adrenaline-filled last round, jumpy from excitement and victory just within their grasps. Dream is still more jittery than he should be, taking a second more than usual to react to fights, and his teamwork with Sapnap - while good - is still noticeably rusty. Michael’s lips thin at the memory of Dream backing away from Sapnap’s sword in Battle Box, hunched into himself, almost on the floor, with a clearly desperate edge to his expression - and no matter how he tries, he can’t quite manage to shake it off. 

Unfortunately enough, the third round doesn’t bode well for them from the start - Quackity gets bowed off while bridging to the main arena, and upon entrance there they end up flanked, hard, by another team in a conflict that gets Michael killed within seconds. Sapnap and Dream book it to the other side of the arena, where they manage to work through a full team without too much trouble - but the next minute brings another half-team flying at them from the back, catching them in the middle of trying to recuperate. The two focus Dream in the middle of eating a steak, and Michael watches as Dream steps back instead of moving forward to fight, that same shade of fear making his muscles seize as he stands, stock still, watching helplessly as swords fly his way- Michael cries out, but there’s nothing he can do-

Between one blink and the next, Sapnap is standing in front of Dream, a snarl painting his features as he whirls through both players in a fury. Michael watches, awed, as his sword weaves and dances between the two attacking Dream, making quick work of them both until they’re no more than items scattered over the ground, then grabs Dream by the wrist and drags him up a nearby ladder onto the upper floor, plopping him by the wall and then backing off. 

Sapnap stands back as Dream sits against the wall, breathing fast and labored, dropping to his knees with his hands in front of him, palms up, no weapons in hand. Michael watches, frantic, for the signs of any teams nearby - with Dream panicking and Sapnap’s back to the rest of the arena, they’d be easy pickings - but for once, luck seems to be on their side, because no one comes. Dream heaves a breath through his lungs, deep and shuddery - Sapnap watches, lips flat from concern, but doesn’t speak. 

“You good to continue?” he asks, when Dream seems calm enough to recognize his surroundings, and Dream looks up at the words, jaw slack from shock and disorientation, before his head dips in a firm nod. 

“Good,” Sapnap smiles, tight-lipped and fiercely determined, fiercely loyal, as he reaches out a hand that Dream moves to take. “Let’s go fuck them up, yeah? You and me, just like we used to.”

Michael watches, heart in his chest, as they stand together to face the rest of the competition, towering towards the middle and facing off with the remaining teams,  watches as they move forwards through explosions and buckets of lava, coalescing onto the middle island, as they battle through the remaining opponents as one in a clean spiral of clashing blades and flying arrows, fighting with their backs to each other in the center of the arena. He watches as a well-placed fishing rod by Dream knocks their final opponent off the platform, leaving them in the middle, triumphant, as the only remaining team - 

Watches, a brilliant, bubbling laugh in his chest as Dream and Sapnap take their spots in the middle of the arena, standing side by side as Sapnap raises Dream’s hand in victory, both laughing and cheering  into the sky.

---

Their performance in Sky Battle manages to pull them to third - but second place still stands a few hundred coins away, and they watch anxiously as Parkour Tag is chosen as the last game and they are transported over the arena. 

“Last game,” Sapnap calls, “We’ve got this, alright?” 

He gets terse, short nods in return - it’ll be a close game, and even Michael is feeling the pressure. He breathes a soft, quiet breath through his teeth as they prepare, looking over to the opposite team as they choose their hunters and runners. 

“Dream, you up to hunting first four?” Sapnap seems to be watching the effects of his words more, waiting for Dream’s agreement before moving forward, sliding into the position of leader easily when Dream seems to struggle. Dream nods and steps into the hunter’s box, lips pressed together, flat and focused, and Michael turns back to the arena to plan out his route. 

Parkour, by far, is not his strong suit. It hadn’t been his strong suit during Parkour Warrior and sure as hell isn’t it now - he enjoys it well enough, but with the pressure of a hunter on him or the time creeping past and the competition standings hanging over his head like a guillotine, he’s prone to slipping up and he knows it. The map is full of dizzying, multi-colored structures and difficult jumps, the twists and turns of the arena making his head spin. Being good at parkour is more than being good at movement - it involves being able to make split-second decisions and execute them with no time to hesitate. Unfortunately, Michael isn’t particularly good at any of that, so Parkour Tag mostly just stresses him the hell out. 

He sets out to the arena, listening for callouts over comms as he fumbles over the buildings. Halfway through the game, Dream’s voice comes through comms, quiet, focused. 

“Gottem.” 

“Nice, Dream,” Michael smiles, trying not to trip over a particularly hard jump, only to fall to being tagged in the back by the opposing team’s hunter - Ant, if he remembers right. “Sapnap and Q are still in- we’ve got this.”

Once again, each time, Dream races through the opposing team in seconds, seemingly going faster with each round. Michael has heard his reputation as a hunter before, but only now is he really appreciating the extent - the speed at which he manages to dispatch all three opponents is downright terrifying. They manage to win all four rounds, lingering around second place overall on the leaderboards, before Sapnap and Dream switch off for hunting. 

With each round, Michael watches Dream in the lobby, watching as he tenses further in focus and determination and no small degree of fear, but it hadn’t been nearly as obvious in between rounds. Now, with him in the arena with Quackity and himself, Dream’s jumpiness is all that more palpable, adrenaline making him pace and jump in place from where he stands at the edge of the place. The glass lowers, and he explodes into motion, bounding on top of the nearest tower to wait for the hunter to come towards them. 

Michael ends up caught first, early in the round, once again, and resolves to following Dream over the glass to watch his movements and make callouts for the hunter chasing behind him. Watching Dream move through the arena, dodging below fixtures and through tunnels and jumping from tower to tower with seemingly no regard for gravity pulling him down, it’s become all the more obvious that this is his element. He makes another hairpin turn around a pole, kicking himself up over a tower and then diving from it to a nearby building, landing on a ledge inside it, hands clutching the wall - Michael watches, quietly awed, as he outlasts the hunter, landing in small, panting breaths in the lobby. 

“Great work,” he cheers, quiet, as Dream shakes off the last dregs of the adrenaline, all of them watching the leaderboard anxiously, “Just three more rounds, alright?” 

The rounds that follow continue in much of the same vein - Dream, once he’s gotten started, seems near-impossible to chase down; Michael and Quackity provide support, distracting the hunter for as long as they can until they get tagged, but part of him wonders if it’s all even necessary. Dream flies from structure to structure seemingly unhindered by The Laws That Be, expression firm, if a little frantic, as he parkours his way through the arena. To their credit, the hunters chase, and several come pretty close - but Dream, worked up on adrenaline or anxiety or some twisted mix of the two, races over and around the buildings within the arena like his life depends on it.

It’s a surprisingly (if sickeningly) apt description - the skill in parkour is far from unacknowledged on Dream’s record; they all know his reputation with Parkour Warrior, all know that there are little that can match his skill as a traucer - but there’s something newly desperate in the way he runs, the muscles of his body tight and taut even in between rounds, expression permanently tight at the corners from fear. His movements, lacking in their usual fluidity, are made up with sheer speed and mad scrambles up walls that no one else seems to dare replicate. It’s concerning, even to Michael’s untrained eye, how frantic he seems the entire time, the flashes of expressions that he’ll direct towards the hunter like being caught by them will be his end, but- if anything, at least it’s effective. 

Between his parkour and Sapnap’s own skill, they manage to dominate the other teams without much issue, and the bonuses from eliminating the other team first combined with Dream’s survival points each round land them a first place for the game by just a few hundred coins. The four of them watch with bated breaths for the event standings, whooping and cheering together when it shows the red rabbits in second - 

“DODGEBOLT, BABY!” Quackity cheers, loudly, and the rest of them join him, laughing and screaming incoherently, “LET’S FUCKING GO!” 

“LET’S FUCKING GO!” Sapnap punches the air with a loud, resolute whoop of joy, and Dream - still shaking off the jitters of his last round in Parkour Tag - soon joins in with a few cheers of his own. 

Michael watches them all with a smile on his face as they cheer in victory - Dodgebolt has them against the Yellow Yaks, which will be a hard match up, but between Dream and Sapnap’s skill, if they all stay focused, they shouldn’t have any issue. 

They’ve done it. They’ve made it to Dodgebolt - if they keep their heads in the game, then they should win. All he has to do is keep his head down a little longer, long enough to win them the game, long enough for them to go home with new crowns and new coins, long enough for him to go back to living his quaint little life in his quaint little house - going back to heckling the Warden at night and hanging with Bad and Puffy, working on builds and living life away from the rest and pretending that nothing is wrong. The server will go back to normal come tomorrow, and it will all be okay. 

The smile slips off his face. 

They’ve done it. And then they’ll go back to the SMP, and Dream might evade whatever immediate consequences come with losing, but there’s no evidence that whatever’s caused that heartstopping, devastating fear that has characterized his every move is going to stop. They’ll win, and they’ll go back to the SMP, and they’ll keep dying and fighting wars and keep pretending that the world they live in is normal; they’ll go back to the server, and Michael will go back in his house while Dream goes back into his cell directly across from it, still locked in a black box with no way in or out, no means of communication with anyone outside, locked away with the key thrown away for anything to happen with no one to know-

Michael glances over to Dream, to the tense edge of his shoulders that has never left for as long as the tournament has continued and long before. To the grey-faced, grey-eyed inhabitants of the SMP, coming to the Championships with sealed lips and a shared determination to never reveal that anything is wrong, to pretend that things are normal and move on. 

Michael’s hands clench into fists at his side, then unclench, the helplessness cutting through his excitement like a splash of cold water straight through his chest. They’ll win the Championship, and then what? They’ll go back to the server, and then what? 

He looks up at the sky, avoiding the eyes of the rest of his team as they are teleported to the arena. Around him, nothing comes in reply. 

---

“Shit-”

Sapnap disappears in a flourish of red particles, and Michael winces as Dream picks up the arrow he left behind, biting his lip as he watches the opposite side maneuver on the ice.

Both of Dream’s shots hit true, and Michael switches to dodging over the ice as the opposing team begins to shoot. His mind is still buzzing with uncertainty, questions whirling around his skull and making his head spin, the reminder to just let things be raging against the anxiety that has wormed its way deep into his bones for the better part of the day. His performance has fallen a bit as a result, and they’re tied, 2-2, for the last round of Dodgebolt against Yellow - winner takes all. 

He doesn’t know what to do. He wants to tell, but he wants to fall back into the background. He wants to make a difference, but also wants nothing more than to go on pretending that everything is fine. It would be so, so easy to move on and wash his hands of the whole affair - it’s not like anyone else will know, only himself and the guilt that he’s sure will haunt him to remind him of his failures. Is there even anything he can do? He’s no genius at combat, or parkour, or strategy- all he has are his eyes, his ability to see what the hell is happening with no means to change any of it. 

An arrow whizzes towards him, too low to hit, and falls to the ice by his feet. Michael feels it plop into his inventory as he runs past it, shivering slightly from the cold or adrenaline or some mix of the two - not that he can really tell. The other team still has an arrow, the gleaming arrowhead catching the light as the person shooting - Jack, it looks like - moves it from one side to the other, looking for someone to aim. Michael lets the arrow into his hand, feeling its weight.

A sudden shock of clarity. 

He staggers back and nearly trips over his own feet, feeling relief rock his body when he manages to catch his balance - his eyes rake over the rest of his team, still dodging over the ice, completely focused on the opposing side. He worries his lip between his teeth - it’s a risk. It’s a hell of a risk, and if he messes up - they’re fucked. They’re more than fucked. There’s a good chance that this does more harm than good, a good chance that it won’t do anything at all. 

Michael takes a deep breath, and nocks his arrow. 

With his bow pointed to the floor, he doesn’t think anyone’s noticed yet - especially the rest of his team, gazes still trained over the centerline to the other side of the arena. Michael plants his feet, raises his bow, aims - he’s standing still, too still, and he can already see Jack swinging the bow towards him from the corner of his eye, preparing to let the arrow fly directly at him. That’s fine. It doesn’t matter.

Keep your head down. 

Michael lets go, and Quackity manages to turn just in time to see the arrow hit him between his eyes.

Not this time.

Michael just manages a wicked, satisfied smirk before the world disappears in a flash of red. 

---

“What the hell was that?” 

Michael teleports into the middle of the MCC main lobby, finding Quackity already mid-yell in front of the podium, where the Yellow Yaks have taken their places as the winners of the Championships, new, shining crowns on their heads as they greet the crowd with smiles and cheers. Michael turns to where the rest of the team has gathered in the corner, Quackity hissing angrily at Dream, curled into himself against the fence. 

“I- I-”

“You lost us the fucking game, that’s what you did,” Quackity grabs him by the arm, rage painting his features as he yanks Dream closer to him, ignoring the other’s panicked yell at the proximity and flailing to get away. “What the fuck- you had both the arrows. How the fuck did you miss that?” 

“Back the hell off, Quackity.”

Michael steps forward, bodily shoving Quackity out of the way - Dream’s head rises just enough for the two eyes painted on his mask to look  above where they’d been hidden behind his arms, though Michael’s far too lost in his own anger to pay any mind to him at the moment. Quackity turns his furious direction towards Michael, only seeming to get angrier as he meets his eyes. 

“Oh, fuck off, Michael- you-” he rakes a hand through his hair, “You fucking- we fucking lost because of you, you know that? We had that! We were going to win that, you fucker-” 

“And then what, Quackity?” The words Michael had been pushing back the entire day come forth, mixed with his simmering anxiety and muffled anger that he’d been forced to push down, game after game after game, one bubbling mess of emotion underscoring his tone and making Quackity rear back, “Then you’ll go back the SMP and pretend that everything’s fine and dandy? Go back to your shiny little country with a shiny new coin, beat up Dream a few times to work off the adrenaline because, hey, it’s not like anyone else is gonna know if he’s black and blue inside of that shitstain of a prison, is that right?” 

The flash of panic that makes its way over Quackity’s face is more than enough to confirm the worst of Michael’s assumptions, and the rage that has made a home in his chest only burns hotter. 

“What- what the fuck did he say?” Quackity barely manages to catch onto his tone, pressing harder with narrowed eyes and a snarl, “He’s lying, you fucking idiot, that’s all he ever fucking does-” 

“He’s not told me shit,” Michael presses forward, forcefully pushing Quackity away from Dream, who is cowering from both of them behind him, “But you would know a hell of a lot about that, wouldn’t you Quackity?”

“I have no fuckin’ clue what you’re on about, pal,” Quackity shakes his head, hair whipping past his eyes, “And I’d recommend you shut your fucking mouth before you go around hurling baseless accusations- I could have you sued for defamation, you know-”

“Oh, we’re talking law, now? Fine! We’ll talk legalities- how about we start with that casino of yours and work from there?” 

Sapnap moves over, quiet thus far as he watched from the sidelines, and Michael watches as Quackity relaxes, minisculely, at his approach - only to tense further when Sapnap presses a hand to his shoulder, meeting his eyes with blazing eyes staring right at his.

“Q,” Sapnap says, voice uncharacteristically serious, “tell the truth, now- what did you do?”

Quackity laughs - it sounds unsure, even in Michael’s ears, “Sapnap? You can’t tell me you believe-” he waves his hands frantically, “this- this fucking asshole, now, do you hear him? He sounds- he’s literally out of his fucking mind-”

Sapnap shakes his head, firm. “Quackity, I’ll need you to cut the bullshit. What did you do?” 

“He’s backing up Dream, Sapnap,” Quackity focuses his gaze on Sapnap, something creeping up in his tone, sweet and cloying despite the bitter tone, that Michael can’t quite recognize, “You know what Dream is like- he pulled the same shit with you, remember? You and George? Tommy?” He waves a hand at Dream, who ducks down further at the attention, “He hasn’t changed, man! He’s still pulling the same bullshit, still manipulating people for the hell of it- you know, the exact same thing he did to you? Don’t fall for that again, man.”

“I-” Sapnap seems to hesitate, conflict warring over his features. 

“Look at me, Sap - you know what Dream’s like. He pretends to be your friend, makes up some stupid bullshit to justify his shit - Michael hasn’t been around for as long, not like the two of us, remember? He doesn’t know.” Quackity brings his hand to Sapnap’s own, ignoring Michael’s protests as he laces their fingers together, “I care about you, Sap. All of this- I’m just worried that he’ll end up manipulating you again. I’m just trying to protect you.” 

“...liar.” 

“What?”

Sapnap steps back, wrenching his hand out of Quackity’s own. His expression, out of what Michael can see from the sliver of his face that is facing him, is stormy with fury and no small amount of regret - Quackity steps back, unease finally beginning to flicker in the corners of his self-satisfied expression as Sapnap stares him down. 

“You’re a liar, Quackity.” Sapnap draws himself up. “Now, I’m asking this for the last time- what did you do?”

Quackity’s expression stutters, falls, as Sapnap stands back next to Michael, the two of them between him and Dream. His eyes flick between their faces, then to Dream, then back again, frown deepening with every pass he makes between the three of them. Michael keeps his arms crossed in front of his chest, feeling his muscles tense with every second of silence that ticks by, Quackity seeming to grow more and more angry and tense under their scrutiny and unforgiving stances-

-a second passes, and he throws himself forward. 

“Quackity!” 

Michael only manages to throw himself out of the way of the man barrelling towards him just in time - too late, he realizes that he wasn’t Quackity’s intended target. He tackles Dream to the ground, pinning the taller man underneath himself onto the ground in a rough thump that seems to knock all the air out of him. Dream immediately begins to thrash aimlessly, jaw going slack in panic as Quackity levels his arm against his neck, going still as Quackity presses harder against his windpipe. Michael is only barely close enough to pick up what he says over the sound of the surrounding screaming, Sapnap rushing forward to pull Quackity off to no avail-

“-make what I did two weeks ago look like a fucking joke when we get back, going to make you wish you fucking died-” 

The world explodes into white.

When Michael’s vision clears, he’s face to face to the stony face of one of the MCC admins, their status displayed by the proud red [Admin] by their nametags and the fact that they’re floating several inches off the fucking floor. He backs away, strangely winded - probably from the panic or adrenaline or yelling or, more accurately, all three, as Quackity is pulled back effortlessly by an admin, easily caging his flailing limbs with a snap of code as he is frozen into place - and Michael whoops. 

“LET’S GO!” 

(The arrow hits Michael in the shoulder, and he disappears in a flash of red - only instead of going to his usual place above the Dodgebolt arena, standing with the other competitors, he finds himself teleported in front of a dizzying array of screens and buttons, too many to have any idea where they connect and how they work. Michael turns to meet the faces of the MCC Admins, each one looking at him with odd, concerned expressions and furrowed brows. 

“You shot your teammate,” one says - Noxite - and Michael nods to concede the point, not quite finding the words to speak. “Why?”

“If you had such a big issue with the teams, you could’ve just talked to Scott,” another one pipes up from the back, “I’m sure we could’ve worked something out.”

“I know, I know,” Michael runs his hand through his hair, both relieved at the plan working better than he could’ve ever fucking imagined and suddenly lost for words in front of the admins, each one looking at him with their full attention. Every nerve in his body rails against the scrutiny, reminds him to pretend that nothing is wrong - but it’s too late to pretend, now. It’s been too late for a long, long time. 

He remembers Dream, looking away all competition, voice dead and lacking all of its former vitality - remembers Puffy, hair a little greyer from stress, grief painting her face whenever she thought anyone wasn’t looking - remembers Bad, hands still shaking despite his attempts to hide it - the prison, looming on the horizon, unbeatable, impenetrable - himself, helpless, for all this time, to do anything but watch and wait. Until now. He takes a deep breath, steels himself- 

“Something’s wrong with Dream.”)

“Thank you for your information, Michael,” Noxite smiles at him, and relief throws itself through his system so fast that it makes him dizzy- “We’ll handle this from here. Good job.” 

“Holy shit- when did you get time to contact the fucking admins, Michael?” 

Michael ignores the clamor around him as the lobby bursts into activity and people talking over each other, each one probably trying to figure out what the hell just happened, ignores Sapnap muttering, awed, from beside him, to move towards Dream, still sprawled out over the floor. There’s an admin by him, standing by to seemingly keep the crowd away but not engaging with Dream directly, and Michael ducks by them to kneel down by Dream and meet his gaze. 

“Hey,” Michael smiles, still shaking from the leftover adrenaline as he presses his hands to the ground to try and hide it, “We’ve got you. It’s over- Quackity’s gone. You’re safe now.” 

“Michael?” Dream’s voice is so damn small when his head twists to look over, hair having fallen largely fallen out of his ponytail to land in wisps all around his face. “You- how-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Michael shushes him, chest twisting painfully. “It’s alright.”

“...I don’t feel so good.”

Dream coughs harshly, and Michael quickly maneuvers him to a sitting position as his shoulders shake with another one, hand flying to his mouth as he is wracked with loud, wet-sounding coughs. Concern wells up in his throat, watching as Dream shakes with more coughing, nearly choking as he curls into himself, muscles tense. After what feels like an eternity, he pulls his hand back, and Michael gasps at the sight.

“Dream-”

There’s blood, and a lot of it - mixed with the saliva in his palm, shiny and stringy over the planes of his hand, dribbling past his lips and down his chin. His teeth are similarly stained red when his mouth opens slightly, stance wobbling before he collapses altogether against Michael’s body - Michael can barely hear himself shouting for a medic as Dream heaves a rattling, wet sounding breath into his shoulder. 

“Th’ts not g’d,” he mumbles, quiet, before going completely limp. 

---

When you first get strong enough to go to the Nether and collect blaze rods and brew potions for the first time, the first thing that gets beaten into your head forwards, backwards, left, right, and every way in between is that health and regen aren’t a replacement for actual recovery. Instant health pots are famous for their tendency to heal everything affected to the same degree - which is bad when you have a particularly deep injury, as it’ll often finish healing it near the surface while the injury persists underneath. Regen pots tend to be better at that front, but even they cannot completely fix a serious injury - the two can only act as a temporary, emergency fix for severe wounds, often being an invaluable resource to stop the worst of the bleeding and hold everything together for long enough to bring someone to proper medical attention. 

Unfortunately, when someone tries to use health pots and regens to completely bypass the time and rest needed for the body to properly heal itself and recover, what usually ends up happening is internal injuries - not completely healed by the potions alone - continue to be jostled and irritated, which can lead to further, worse, problems with internal bleeding and bones shifting out of place if they’ve been broken, which can then pierce through muscle and organ tissue - to be honest, Michael was never the best with all the medical stuff, and he’s half-sure that the horror stories he’s heard were exaggerated to beat it into his head never to be an idiot that thinks that potions can solve everything, but either way, he’s never tested his luck with the things.

Unfortunately, Dream doesn’t seem to have done the same, as the entire day’s worth of intense activity, between practices and MCC itself, were more than enough to fuck over the healing effects of whatever health potions he apparently downed before coming to the Championships. From what Michael has heard, it got a little harried after he was first brought into the hospital, but he’s apparently stabilized since - recovery will be slow, both physically and mentally, but at least he’s out of that damn prison to actually start on that path.

“Simply put, your teammate is a bit of an idiot,” Scott tells him when he finally catches him in the waiting room, hair fluffed up at the sides from where he’s evidently messed it up in Admin-related stress. “But he should be alright now, with proper medical attention and lots of rest - make sure to tell him to actually rest, will ya? No more parkouring for him - he can wait until after he’s out of the hospital to show us all how it’s done.” 

Michael laughs, relief settling into his chest, “Thanks, Scott.” He directs a playfully accusing look towards the other, a grin tugging at his lips, “but you know, he’s only my teammate because you made it that way. Kinda sounds like your own fault there..” 

“Oh, quiet, you.” Scott laughs- he looks stressed, and Michael feels a twinge of sympathy. The administrative side of things after his whole stunt at Dodgebolt, and then especially with what happened in the main lobby, must be an absolute nightmare. “Anyway, I need to go back - Admin meeting,” he shakes his head, already looking at his comm. “You should go see Dream, by the way. I think he’s awake.” 

“Thanks for everything, Scott.” 

Scott smiles at him, soft, sincere. “Go see your friend.” 

He disappears in a flash of white light, teleporting away, and Michael looks at the empty space where he stood for a few seconds before standing up out of his chair to move towards the door. He hesitates at it for a second, hand on the doorknob but not yet turning it to the side - it’s suddenly awkward, without the pressure of the competition at his back and the relentless questions of what he should do. He doesn’t even know if Dream knows what happened, or if he’ll be happy with him - for all he knows, Dream was the one who started the whole ‘don’t tell the Championships what happens in the server’ deal. His teeth catch on his lip as he stands, lost in thought, at the door.

Well. Here goes nothing. 

He eases the door open, getting a glimpse inside the room - it’s white, clean-looking, the smell of disinfectant heavy in the air. There’s a bed in the middle of the room, a chair on the side with his Championships clothing and what appears to be some sort of padded body armor laid over the cushions. Dream, as expected, is lying down in the bed, unmoving; for a second, Michael thinks he’s sleeping, before he suddenly twists his head over to look at him.

“Michael?” 

“Hey,” Michael smiles, moving into the room and closing the door behind him. For the first time today, Dream’s face isn’t masked, a glimpse of it visible behind him on the dresser by the bed. He blinks up at him owlishly, eyes wide and green, looking even bigger combined with the hollow planes of his cheeks, overlaid by pale, slightly raised scars. “How are you feeling, man?” 

“Um-” Dream tries to pull himself up, visibly struggling, and Michael rolls his eyes as he hurries over to help raise the back of the cot because you’re supposed to be resting, Dream, just let the fancy bed do its job, and settles back with an odd look on his face as Michael pulls over a chair. “Good? I think? I mean-” he flails his hands a bit, “this is weird. And I kind of hate this gown- but um. Yeah.” 

“That’s fair,” Michael laughs, and Dream huffs a small laugh out of his own, settling back into his pillow. He looks strangely small, with all the layers stripped away, frail and skinny against the sheets. His skin isn’t that same paper-white shade it had been when he collapsed in the middle of the fucking lobby, but it’s still pale enough to be vaguely worrying, especially combined with the IV and other wires hooked up to him. 

“Apparently, I’m dehydrated,” Dream drawls when he catches Michael staring at the IV, making a small, frustrated sound through his teeth as Michael turns to look at him, “figures, I guess, but still sucks. I hate needles.” 

“Ouch,” Michael winces in sympathy, “yeah, those don’t look that fun.” Dream smiles up at him, before his expression shutters, dulls, and he looks away, not meeting his eyes. The sight of it makes Michael frown, quiet, remembering the way he’d drawn back from them all over and over again throughout the day - that fear and trauma won’t go away in a day, but it hurts all that much more to see his face as panic flashes across it and he pulls back, gaze carefully detached. 

“Dream?” Michael moves closer, but is careful not to make contact, “you alright?”

“Hmm?” Dream directs another small, tight smile his way, strained at the corners as his eyes flick away to the floor once again, “yeah- I’m- I’m fine.” 

Michael sighs, but decides not to push it. “Have you done anything else here, yet?”

Dream shakes his head. “No- I think that someone’s going to bring food over soon, I’m not sure. Not really hungry,” he mutters, half to himself, and Michael tamps down the concern that wells up in protest, “But we’ll see, I guess.” 

“That’s good,” Michael nods, and Dream looks up at him, expression startlingly unsure. 

“Um- do you know?” He wrings his hands together, eyes darting across the room nervously before flicking over Michaels’ face, and Michael tries to make himself look as calm and comfortable as possible, “I mean- do you know what’s going on with- everyone?” 

Ah. Michael winces internally- he probably should’ve expected this question, but in the fallout of what happened in the lobby and Dream, you know, passing out in his arms, he ended up brushing off or ignoring a lot of the chaos that resulted. He wracks his head for snippets of information that he’d seen in his communicator and from visitors to the waiting room, including people that had been there with him that had been pulled for questioning and meetings, Tommy’s expletive-filled yelling from the lobby still ringing in his head. 

“Um- I think that they’ve got a team of moderators pulled up to investigate the server, figure out what’s been going on,” Michael ticks names off on his hands, mentally going through the list of people that he’s been given information on, “They have Quackity in custody, I think, for the moment- they’re still waiting for more information on what to do with him, but they’ve got a whole MCC lobby’s worth of witnesses that saw him assault you so far, if you plan on pressing charges and stuff- um- Sapnap got pulled for questioning, nothing too major right now, I think that they’re going through the other server members that were attending the Championships for the moment.” 

“Are they- putting them in jail?” Dream’s voice sounds slightly tinny despite his forced calm, arms crossed in front of him, and Michael shakes his head firmly. 

“No- legal stuff between servers is weird, and I think they’re holding off on anything like that for now. Quackity’s just there at the moment because of assault charges on the MCC server - stuff in the SMP is still technically outside of their jurisdiction.” Dream visibly relaxes, and Michael smiles thinly, “It’ll be rough for a few weeks as they collect evidence and figure out what to do, but for now, they’re just focusing on recovery - giving people medical attention if they need it, lining up therapists,” he laughs, quietly, “lots of therapists.”

Dream hums, looking away. The corners of his mouth fall, eyes fluttering shut as he breathes a shuddery sigh through his lips.

“I- never wanted it to get this bad,” he opens his eyes, looking down at his hands, lip slightly trembling, “I don’t- I don’t know where it all went wrong.” 

“Hey,” Michael slides closer, ducking to meet Dream’s eyes with a soft smile. “You’re not alone anymore, alright? You don’t have to fix it all by yourself. Focus on yourself, on recovering.” 

Dream hesitates, breath seeming caught in his throat, wide green eyes staring into Michael’s own, before ducking his head to look away with a slight nod. Michael leans back in his chair, watching as Dream turns to the side, curling in on himself slightly with a small wince, eyes fixed on the window.

“Didn’t think I was going to see the sun again,” Dream says after a while, gaze still trained behind the glass to where the sun is slowly setting, rays of sunlight streaming past the slits in the blinds and casting glowing stripes of honey-gold throughout the room and over Dream’s face. Michael feels something cold press against the back of his throat, the quiet admission making air stutter in his lungs at the image of Dream, alone, huddled in the middle of an obsidian box for months and months and months, never knowing if he’d see anything other than the same black walls for the rest of his life. 

“You’re not there, anymore. You’re safe now.” 

Dream doesn’t reply, continuing to look out the window silently, breathing slowly as he moves his hand through a sunbeam, watching the way it streams between his fingers and warms his skin, seeming mesmerized by its soft glow. 

“Michael?” Dream looks over, and Michael feels the air punched out of his lungs at the soft, disbelieving sincerity held within his expression, the fearful edges for once pulled back far enough for the light to catch the quiet, heartfelt appreciation gathered in the slight quirk of his lips and downward slope of his eyes. He looks away a second after, a band of light cutting across his face and landing over the bridge of his nose, smile still on his face, voice almost too quiet to make out. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Michael feels his own smile widen, looking out the window himself- it really is a beautiful sunset. “What are friends for?” 

[mask131]

Mieruko-chan ghosts analysis (Chap 17, 18, 19)

The toilet ghost

This ghost manifests in the girls bathroom at Miko’s school, creeping out of the toilet repeating “Hm? Hm? Hm?”. It has a quite uniquely deformed body making him look more like a monster than a human being, with its long neck, bloated belly and squatting position. But most interestingly is its bizarrely lecherous behavior as it constantly drools upon seeing Miko and points one of its fingers towards her lower body (almost as if to ask her to get undressed). Its head even follows Miko around when it seems she will be using a different toilet. Why am I taking a lustful and lecherous approach for this ghost? Out of two reasons.

One, we clealry have here again a phallic ghost. The ghost’s design is made to evoke male genitalia, with these big squatting legs with a long thick neck on top and an overall veiny body - and if this wasn’t obvious already, the two spotty swells at the base of the neck make the sexual design of this ghost even more significative.

Two: I think this ghost is actually a reference or nod to one of Japan’s bizarre and unusual death cases, the same way the barrel ghost of the tunnel was very probably a reference to the murder of Junko Furuta. I do believe this ghost is a nod to the death of Naoyuki Sugano - a young man whose corpse was find inside women’s toilets (it was those squatting-like toilets). While the family of the deceased defended the honor of their dead son, the most popular theory and opinion about this death is that the young man was a pervert who climbed inside the toilets/pit latrine to spy on women doing their business (if you know Japan’s weird fetishes, it probably won’t surprise you) - especially as he seemingly died of hypothermia while waiting in the toilet’s underground chamber. What leads me to link this bizarre case and this ghost is the fact the corpse of Sugano was found in a very similar position this ghost is in: he had his legs bended in the same way the ghost has, and his corpse was found with his arms clutching his chest the same way the ghost is. In fact, the corpse was found entirely naked except for the jaket the boy held to his chest - here replaced by a second mouth on the ghost’s torso.

The fake haunted house ghost

This ghost actually is found inside a fake “haunted house” attraction, even though he seemingly wandered in without any idea of where he was. I don’t have much to say about this one - he wears what seems to be a gym suit, is barefoot with his pants dirty at the ankle, and he has a bloated grotesque head with emaciated traits. Overall he reminds me of some of the ghosts and creatures found in the works of Masaaki Nakayama (Fuan no Tane and the like). He is mostly here just to lead to a terrifying confusion between the real ghosts and the fake horrors of the attraction (in fact, his head being overgrown like that is designed so that it could be mistaken for a mask worn over a human head). But this does bring to mind the concept that ghosts and otherwordly spirits can be confused by humans in disguise - I don’t think this concept actually belongs to Japanese society per se, but it is very prominent in European societies: Halloween being the best example as one of the original reasons why people disguised themselves as monsters was to confuse the spirits of the Otherworld who came to the human world. But maybe this is what the author was aiming for, as the concept of “haunted house attractions” such as this one also come from the West (America, one of the best celebrants of Halloween) before being brought over to Japan. Because,  here the ghost is indeed very confused upon seeing his former “horrors” stopping the chase after Miko tells them to stop.  

Beyond that, like most other basic ghosts, he can barely repeat “Hey! Hey!” all over.

The running ghost

As Miko goes on the running field of her school, she meets briefly another ghost who is also running - and very fast. In fact, when he runs faster than her he says loudly “You lose”, hinting at this spirit being somehow a competitive sportive in life, or at least in death becoming obsessed with running races or being faster than others. His whole design evokes a bizarre parody of a runner body, with very long limbs, and a svelt body. Of course not counting the bizarre wrapped-in-bandages-like head. The overall design makes me think of the creatures from the manga “Ajin”. Coupling that with the previous ghost reminding me of the Fuan no Tane-style, I wonder if some of the ghosts of “Mieruko-chan” aren’t actually subtle references and nods to other horror mangakas. 

I will take a pause here to highlight something that Miko herself points out in the manga: her school is filled with ghost. There is this running ghost, the one in the bathroom, the ghost saying “Hello” in the morning, and the one in the gymnasium... And this is actually normal. In Japanese ghost stories, schools are one of the most regular haunting spots. In fact haunted schools are much more frequent than haunted houses in modern ghost fiction. It was mostly due to how urban legends and modern ghost stories spread in the 20th century through children and schools. When the book “Gakkou no Kaidan” was published, a collection of ghost stories and urban legends a teacher got from various children and students of Japanese schools, it iconized the “school ghost story” idea and popularized the concept of schools being filled with ghosts. There is also other traditions, such as the “Seven Mysteries”, the habit of saying that X school has seven unusual phenomenon regularly happening in it that are referred to as “Seven Mysteries” (pretty much every school can boast to have its own Seven Mysteries). This also explains why early horror mangas rely so much on schools as a main setting.

Note: the idea of ghosts running very fast is also quite common in modern Japanese ghost stories. The Teke-Teke or the Kuchisake-onna are two famous examples of modern-day urban legends/ghost stories where the titular ghost is said to run faster than a human being ; I think there is also a legend of a “turbo baba” or something like that about an otherwordly grandmother who can run faster than cars, and the idea of running was fast as cars also pop up in the legend of the “human-faced dogs”... 

[literaryobsession]

of maybes and yeses || prohero!bakugo x teacher!reader

summary: you meet the elusive Pro Hero Dynamight and find him warming up to you.

warning: in the later chapters, there will be mentions of bullying. there will also be angst. also cursing because...Bakugo

word count: 2482

chapters: I , II , III , V , VI

CHAPTER IV

The soft sound of the machine relaxed me immensely. I sat in front of a washing machine in the laundromat, completely in my element as my clothes ran circles.

I do my laundry every Wednesday night, when the place isn't too packed. It was a block away from my apartment so it was easy to reschedule on weekdays, especially since the laundromat was open 24/7.

Unlike the convenience store, the attendant here isn't too chatty. She kept to herself, going through her phone, and occasionally glancing at people who were there. Fortunately for her, there were only three of us there - me, an old man, and a teenage boy.

I took my book from my bag and resumed where I left off. After seeing the nostalgic encyclopedia from the Bakugo house, I thought it would be nice to read for pleasure again so I got one book from my to-read list which honestly just got longer every year. Buying books and actually reading them should really be considered as two separate hobbies, you know.

"Ms. L/N."

Is Dynamight really here or am I just imagining things?

I looked up and saw that it was indeed him. He was in black again today but didn't cover his face with a mask this time. I could see that smirk on his face, as though daring me to forget who he was again.

"Wow, who knew you still do your own laundry, almighty Dynamight?" I scooted over the long bench, offering him the space.

He put his laundry bags on the seat, "Of course, I do. If I want something done perfectly, hafta do it myself."

"And that includes laundry?" I raised an eyebrow as he worked on the two empty machines beside mine.

"Especially laundry." He sat down beside me and stretched his long arms.

I never really got the opportunity to see his face this close before. Back in his house, I was torn between thinking he was attractive and wary about the teasing I'll get from both Mrs. Tanaka and his mother.

Nothing was stopping me now.

His hair, although incredibly messy and stuck out in different places, looked soft and golden under the fluorescent light. His eyes were red, almost like rubies. They were firey, passionate, and dangerous. Without the mask, I could confirm how sharp and chiseled his features were. There were light scars on his skin, barely even noticeable if you don't pay attention.

Must be from all the fights. I thought.

"What're you readin'?" Dynamight glanced at me, catching me on the act.

I dropped my book, surprised that he turned his head and it made him laugh.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm okay." I picked up my poor book from the floor. Its cover was folded, bent from the drop. "This sucks."

"Still good though. The best books are those which looked used. Spine broken, yellow pages, all that shit." He commented upon seeing the look of disappointment on my face.

"I guess. Do you read, Dynamight?" I asked before stowing my book carefully back in my bag.

He raised an eyebrow at me, "Call me Katsuki. It's weird to keep on meeting like this and you call me by my hero name every damn time."

Did he really offer that I...

"Kat-su-ki?" I said slowly, trying to see how it rolls off my tongue. There are so many different pronunciations of names, and ever since I became a teacher, I was so wary about pronouncing people's names correctly.

"Hey, don't say it like that!" Katsuki frowned deeply, a slight tinge of red scattering across his nose and cheeks.

I frowned at him, "Like how?" What did I do?

"Like that!" He repeated, loudly this time.

"What?"

"What?"

"Nevermind. You're annoying." He huffed and turned his attention back to his clothes, the machine humming away.

"I'd like to say the same thing about you." I rolled my eyes and focused on my own clothes. Aren't they done yet?

"Are you asking me for permission?" He chuckled beside me.

"No, I'm informing you."

We were quiet for a few minutes until Katsuki spoke again, "Yes, I read."

"Mmm?" I looked at him again, wondering what he was on about.

"You asked me if I read. I do." He folded his arms across his chest, something he did a lot. "I used to read the newspaper a lot but since the agency shows news broadcasts on a daily basis, I don't really have to read those anymore."

I nodded as he told his story, "So, what do you read nowadays, Katsuki?"

Katsuki tilted his head a bit, a small smile forming on his lips, "Mmm, manga."

Wait.

What?

The Dynamight.

The top two Pro Hero.

Katsuki Bakugo reads manga?

"Really?" I didn't really know how to react to that. I didn't know what I was expecting but it definitely wasn't that. I was seeing him as someone serious, intellectual, and rational, from the entire premise that he was an expert tactician according to the news, who reads newspapers, and research papers in his spare time.

Who knew he enjoyed the art and stories of manga?

"Yes." He nodded, "Your clothes are done."

I stood up and transferred my clothes to the drier before turning to him again. My curiosity about the reclusive Pro Hero getting the best of me. "What genre?"

The tips of his ears turned pink, "Well, um, various...genres. I read a lot of stuff, it's hard to tell you what I read."

"That's a really cool thing to know about you, Katsuki. You don't have a lot of information on the Internet." I sat back down beside him.

He grinned wide at what I said, almost laughing, "Oh, so the teacher has researched about me."

"What? No! I just-,"

"Yeah Ms. L/N? What do you have to say for yourself?"

This Pro Hero is annoying.

"Oh shut up." I pulled out my book again and focused my attention there.

Why did I have to say that?

"Don't hafta be so embarrassed." Katsuki laughed as he moved his stuff to the drier near his machine. "I know I'm awesome."

"Oh really?"

"Yes really."

"You, Katsuki Bakugo, you are annoying." I pointed at him. I was half annoyed and half-amused at the entire thing. If he wasn't so cute, I probably would've told him off for being so cocky and arrogant.

Katsuki merely shook his head and sat beside me again, "So, can I borrow that book?"

I wasn't finished with it but I said yes.

Katsuki and I didn’t cross paths for almost a week but I didn’t really mind. I know he’d give the book back somehow.

It was already quite late when I got up from my nap. Whenever I receive deadlines, I like finishing my work the day it was assigned. Most of the reason is simply because I don't like cramming and hate the pressure of the impending submission.

So I dragged my body out of my bed, set up my mini working table by the sofa, and started working. To really wake up, I needed to snack on something so I grabbed my potato chips and a can of cola. I wasn't really in the mood to cook anything or walk to the nearby convenience store to get something.

I was so immersed with my work when I heard my phone give the very familiar message alert.

Unknown Number

Bringing the book back. Where are you?

I stared at my phone, wondering who would text me at this hour. Not a lot of people know about my number, it was to prevent people from communicating with me when I'm not online. Aside from my family, I only gave out my number to the school so they can reach me.

Besides it was late and it was a school night.

Who could possibly still be awake at this time?

I ignored the message and kept on typing away on my laptop, polishing off my lesson plans for the next month. Unlike checking students work where I have background noise, I needed to be focused on my own work so any random noise could distract me.

So you best believe I was distracted when I heard my phone again.

From: Unknown Number

It's Katsuki. Answer asap.

I open mouthedly stared at the message and quickly typed up a reply to confirm.

To: Katsuki

Wait. The Katsuki? Dynamight?

From: Katsuki

Yea, returning the book rn. Where are you?

To: Katsuki

Home. Return it tomorrow.

From: Katsuki

Can't. I have a mission. Returning it right now. Send address.

Why was he even awake this late? I wondered but I did send him my address and gave him clear instructions how to get here. I wasn't about to go out and meet him so if he really does want to go and give me my book back, he can come over.

I continued working on my lesson plans, only barely done, when I heard a soft knock on my door. "It's me." His gruff voice wafted from behind the door. I pushed my table back and opened the door for him.

It was really Katsuki standing outside my door. I really thought he was kidding, or maybe I was hoping he would just say he'll give it back next time because he was tired. He was wearing black again. At this point, I just assumed he had a lot of them because I never see him wearing any other color.

And was he carrying Chinese take-outs? "Are those..."

"Yeah, I picked up food after my patrol. I finished your book." Katsuki handed me my book and shoved his free hand in his pocket.

I nodded, "Oh, thanks." He was a quick reader considering he was famous and busy. It has only been a week!

"Are you gonna leave me out here or what?" He raised his eyebrow, tilting his head ever so slightly as though wondering where my manners could have disappeared to.

Surprised, I stepped back for him, "Oh, sorry. Come on in. My space isn't big so squeeze in."

He entered, looking absolutely gigantic against my miniature apartment. "Don't mind. Here, eat." Katsuki made himself comfortable on the sofa I was working on earlier and started taking out the food.

"I already ate." I stared at him. Why was he still here? Why was he unloading these boxes which smelled so good, so mouthwatering on my coffee table?

Katsuki raised his ever condescending eyebrow and his eyes surveyed the room, finding the food I had on the working table I set aside earlier. "Geez woman, you have a half-finished pack of potato chips and an empty can of cola by your laptop. Your diet really is crap, isn't it?"

"Will you stop insulting my food choices?" I squeezed in beside him. There was no other sofa in the room, I had no dining table and no extra chairs. Either I ate here on my couch or on the counter in my kitchen.

Katsuki huffed, "I will, when you make better ones."

"Take outs aren't exactly healthy." I watched him open various boxes, handing me the oyster pail with fried rice in it.

"Didn't think you were this bad." Katsuki grimaced before settling back on my sofa. He opened his own fried rice.

"Shut up, Katsuki." I mumbled, giving up finally.

He offered the dumplings and chicken to me and we ate in silence. I would glance at him occasionally, still surprised that he brought food over and got me some too.

It is either that or he just has a big appetite and was only sharing his dinner with me.

"So, what are you doing?" He mumbled as he was reaching out for a piece of dumpling for his rice. Katsuki sat back up and kept his red irises on me, waiting for me to answer.

"Work." I answered, reaching out to touch the mousepad on my laptop and watching it light up again.

Katsuki frowned, "At this hour?"

"Well yeah, I had to take a nap after school." He put two pieces of dumpling on my rice container and I knew it was hopeless to resist.

"Can't you finish work in your working hours?" I watched him as he finished with his rice, put the empty container in the paper bag it came in.

I shrugged. After a few months, I realized that most of my work can't be finished in my free times throughout the day. I don't have much free time anyway. "Not possible. I have other things to do, talking to kids, reteaching, handling problems, and all that."

"Yeah? Must be fun, hanging around kids." He opened his arms, laid them on the back of the sofa and got even more comfortable.

"You like kids?"

"Hell no, just thought it would be fun to see them getting stronger and all that crap." He laughed, "I know it can be one hella ride but your kids seem to like you. They must get into so much trouble huh?"

"Oh yes! There's this one time, in class..." I told him all the crazy stories my kids did, just leaving out the names. Katsuki listened intently, barking out a laugh or two.

I liked this Katsuki, he was much more relaxed than when I first met him. Dynamight was very rigid, very closed-off, that this laughing blond beside me is quite the change. I didn't think he'd warm up to me this quickly but then again, considering how often we cross paths, it would be impossible not finding things to talk about.

"You should teach in UA, we go into all sorts of trouble there but your stories really are crazy." He shook his head, the remnants of amusement still on his face. Then he glanced at his wrist watch, "Shit, its late. I have to go."

I groaned, realizing I spent too much time laughing my head of with Dynamight, "Crap, I still have stuff to finish."

He stood up, cleaning the take out boxes and taking the paper bag wit him, "Sleep, you can do that tomorrow."

We walk to my door and I sighed, "I can't."

"Do you have a death wish?" He stopped and whipped his head towards me.

"No! I just have to work."

Katsuki rolled his eyes, "Well, you can't work if you're sick. Sleep. Work on it tomorrow."

"Alright." I finally nodded. I was very sleepy so I might take his advice and just continue tomorrow.

I watched him as he walked out of my apartment but before he could actually leave, I called out, "Hey Katsuki."

"Mm?" Those vermilion irises really take my breath away.

"Be safe...in that mission." I stammered with my words, not expecting that this moment would give me more butterflies. Even more than when I first got them in his house.

Katsuki gave me a smirk, revealing his sharp teeth, "Always."