#basically my teacher is using us to make her notes for later on

[melhekhelmurkun]

Born to play Spider-Man Remastered, forced to do school work (stupid school work at that, what the hell sort of math class makes people do presentations???)

[macabr3-barbi3]

CTRL ALT DELETE- Task Manager (Vox/Reader)

Something's up with Vox and you offer to help troubleshoot- it both does and does not go how you're expecting it to.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54688282

The least serious thing I've ever written: inspired by the time i started a timer in class one day to see how long my teacher talked about her son instead of teaching us; i ended up realizing 4 months later that i never stopped the timer and it was just running in the background and making my shit slow that entire time lmao there's a screenshot in the ao3 notes

Tags: Stress Relief, Sexual Tension, Chair Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Begging, Computers. Dirty Talk, very basic knowledge of computers

<3<3<3<3<3<3

Your new boss seemed stressed. 

Not in the usual way that he was stressed, either- the note from the assistant you had replaced was that usually when Vox was having an off day he would call for Valentino or have you pull a list of low earners for the month, banishing you from the room in either case. But he hadn’t spent any time with Val in months, basically the entire time that you’d been working with him as a personal assistant after getting promoted from a stage grunt for the news channel.

You had thought for a bit that he might make a move- that maybe that was why he promoted you, that he was charmed enough by you to end the on/off thing he had going on with Val, which made sense based on the timing. But when you tested that theory recently- made double entendres, brushed your hands against his arms or leg or back, blatantly invited him out for dinner and drinks- he didn’t seem interested. He declined your invite, allowed you to touch him without being overcome with lust, and the sex jokes just seemed to go whoosh. 

Right over his head. 

He was on edge and twitchy. He took longer to respond to things than he normally did, his processors slow, occasionally getting a ‘buffering’ message that flashed across his screen when someone asked a question. His hypnotic eye seemed to be suffering as well, the swirls having slowed down now to the point that they were no more mesmerizing than watching paint dry. It was frustrating and enraging him, and in turn frustrating you- he was fucking hot when he was angry, which didn’t help your attraction to him that he was ignoring. 

He was sitting at his desk in the control room when you entered, head in his hands as he stared at a piece of paper on his desk. The monitors were all lit behind him, showing recorded footage of the Tower throughout the day- you spotted a short recording of yourself talking to some of the marketing team a few hours ago. Like a Valentino caricature he read the paper, blinked his eyes a couple times, read it again. Picked it up and pulled it closer to his face like that would help, and his screen scrolled the words along the bottom like his internal system was trying to transcribe it so something he could understand. He finally dropped the paper with a groan, letting it flutter to the floor where it slipped under his chair and stopped just before you. 

“Are you okay, sir?” The question is out before you can stop it, and as was the normal recently it took a few minutes for him to answer. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he muttered, swiveling around to look at you. He clutched the sides of his screen, eyes narrowed and mouth delayed in its movements as he spoke. “I feel like I can’t focus on anything. I can’t process anything. My- just, fucking everything is slow and useless in my head right now! How am I supposed to be a master media manipulator when I can’t fucking concentrate for more than two minutes at a time?”

“You have seemed more… stressed than usual,” you agree. “Are none of your usual relaxing activities helping? Or have you done any troubleshooting?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Pardon?”

“Troubleshooting,” you say again, and at his blank stare you chuckle a little. “You know, doing a couple ‘quick fix’ things to see if that’s what’s causing the problem. Do you have like, a cache or something that you have to clear? An archive dump to get rid of old files?” You let your eyes track his body from top to bottom. “I’m not super familiar with how your… anatomy works?”

God, but you wanted to be.

He blinks a couple times. “I think I used to have someone that did that for me,” he says. “Years ago. I fired them because it didn’t seem necessary, I was running perfectly fine.”

“Yeah, well, that might be what the problem is.” You offer him a soft smile. “Sometimes stuff will work in sub-optimal conditions for a while before it starts causing issues. I used to do programming customer support when I was alive- it’s been a while but I could take a look if you want?”

His mouth twists in a frown. “I guess so,” he agrees. “I’m desperate enough to try anything. I need to be able to fucking concentrate if the Vees are gonna stay on top, everyone fucking knows that Val is hopeless with the business aspect of everything.” He gets the buffering symbol on his screen for a few seconds, groaning and shaking his head as he clears. “What do you need access to?”

“Do you have a way to access your… system? Externally,” you clarify. “I’m not a surgeon- I don’t plan on cutting into you to get to anything.”

Vox gestures behind him. “I can hook up to the monitors,” he says, “but we’ll have to be pretty close, doll. I have to be sitting here to be hooked up, and since this is the only chair, looks like this will have to be your seat.” He pats a hand on his thighs, not so much an invitation as a statement.

You fucking wished. You know this isn’t him trying to initiate anything though- you’d been trying for long enough that you’re ready to give it up and just accept that your hot, overlord boss didn’t want to fuck you. Helping him out felt more important than that anyway, so you would do your best.

“You got it,” you say, and cross the remaining space to perch yourself gracefully on his lap. You push the inappropriate thoughts about how firm his muscles are underneath you- how exactly did this man’s body work? Was it really just his head that was not organic matter?- and let him rotate the chair back to face the monitors.

The sight is intimidating, as is the position- you’re surrounded by reflections of yourself from every angle, Vox’s lithe frame seated behind you. This is where he does most of his business, the background site of everything that VoxTec handles. And he’s trusting you to help him fix whatever is wrong with him so he can get back to handling all of that, free of distraction.

You watch as thick wires come up from the floor to plug into the back of his head, the sharp hiss making you wonder if it was painful or intrusive. You won’t ask though, not when you’re getting ready to try to restore him to his usual ruthless self; he might consider that to be prying.

He pulls something up on the main monitor, the one that sits directly across from you, and waves a hand to it. A little keyboard and mouse emerge from the desk as the monitor powers on, and when you glance back you can see the same thing reflected on his face. “Have at it,” you hear him say, even though you can’t see his mouth moving.

Ignoring his open programs for the time being in case he needs any of them, the first thing you do is go in and clear his archived files. He’s got entire terabytes of useless information; employee records for people that have been dead or fired for decades; funny videos that he saved; resources for old news stories that are no longer relevant. Some of it you help him upload to a cloud server- after explaining to him what a cloud server is- and create files to designate for actual important shit.

You find the internal browser that he uses to pull information on the fly and help him clear the cache and cookies.

You help him sort security footage from Vee Tower and get rid of stuff that wasn’t actually necessary, like the short bits of static and dead air that happened whenever he used the cameras to teleport around the building. Everything that he has saved about mentions of that fucking radio demon also goes into the garbage. There are some files you can’t access, things like his memories and day to day recordings of conversations and things that he personally is part of. 

You delete what you can and empty the recycling bin.

As the process has gone on, Vox has relaxed more and more behind you. “I still don’t feel completely back to normal,” he murmurs, “but this is already loads better. It’s like a massage directly on my brain. You know, if I still physically had one.”

You hit the keys to open his task manager- CTRL ALT DELETE. “Unholy fuck- Jesus, sir, if you thought that was good this is gonna feel orgasmic,” you say absently, scrolling through the opens apps and programs that he has running. Has this man ever closed anything? You hadn’t realized a person or device could even have so many things going at once. “Do you just leave everything open in the background?”

He peers around your shoulder, bracing his hands on your hips as he sits up a little straighter. The movement causes your stomach to drop, arousal threatening to make itself known, but you push the notion down as he sets his hands back on the arms of the chair. “I guess so?” He watches you scroll through the extensive list. “I guess it just never occurred to me to close them. Opening the programs to use is just like my stream of consciousness I suppose.”

“Kay, well, that’s stopping now.” You click on the first item on the list- VoxtaGram. “I recommend closing non-essential stuff out at least once a month. More, if you have the time to go through everything. For now, just in case, there is something important we’re gonna go through some of the more recently opened things, set them up to open automatically when you start up, before we reboot your system- wait, can we reboot your system entirely without killing you?”

“No worries there, dear. I can, I just haven’t done it in years because it can take a while to start back up afterwards.” He sneers at the social media page. “You can close that shit. Any of Velvette’s crap she can handle on her own. Same with any of the fucking games that Val loads up when he’s bored- can I delete those entirely? Or block them? Fucking moth and his blue-light addiction…”

You get through a lot of the list, Vox kind of dozing off and only passively participating in the process. You’ve got the gist of it; things like his news sources, contacts list and phone, and the notes app are staying open and set to automatically launch when he does reboot and start back up. Pretty much everything else is closed out, things he pulled up for two seconds weeks ago to check on something or another before abandoning it. You’re making excellent progress when the next thing on the list gives you pause.

“Vox? Why is this- oh my god.” You can’t help it- you start laughing, throwing your head back to rest on his shoulder as you look at what’s now displayed on the screen.

A stopwatch had apparently been started and never stopped. The elapsed time was over three thousand hours, which came out to something like four months if your mental math was correct. He had had this running constantly in the background since you had started working for him, possibly even before. “I think I found the problem,” you chuckled, and his eyes were narrowed as he looked at the timer continuing to tick. “What is this?”

“What the actual fuck?” He buffers for a second- and you’re pleased to note that it’s already much faster than it has been lately- before you hear a dinging sound coming from him. ‘Fucking Hell, I should have known this was all Valentino’s fault.” He drags a clawed hand down his screen in an imitation of a facepalm. “I was timing him. He was fucking ranting about Angel Dust again while we were in a strategy meeting with Velvette- I had the stopwatch going to see how much of the hour session he wasted talking about that whore. I must have forgotten to turn it off.” He barks out a laugh, throwing his head back with the force of it while you look at him with amusement. “I’m gonna owe you big time for this, doll, you’re a lifesaver.”

You close the app out with a smile. “Just trying to help,” you say. “I think that was probably the worst of it- do you want to just try rebooting now?”

He lets out a groan when the app closes, and the sound shoots through your body straight to your core. “Go for it, hun,” he says, eyes closed as he leans back against the chair. “I think I’m good to go now, but it can’t hurt. You were right, sorting this shit out feeling fucking good.”

You’re suddenly very aware of the dampness of your panties as you bypass ‘kinda horny’ straight to ‘fuck me on this desk.’ You scold yourself mentally: Don’t jump your boss. He’s trusting you to help him right now- do not take advantage of that. Do not ride his leg like you very clearly want to because his voice is fucking hot. Fucking focus.

You clear your throat, closing out the task manager and hitting the button to restart him. “See you in a bit, sir.”

You stay seated on his lap just in case- he might still have something he wants you to do when he comes back online, some settings you could apply to close out things that are used for more than a week or so. It’s definitely not because you like the feeling of his strong thigh underneath you, tantalizingly close to your cunt if you, by chance, decided to tilt your hips forward and start grinding down on him. 

After just a few minutes get a message on the main monitor telling you to wait a moment- things start popping up on the other screens surrounding the central one, and it takes you a moment to recognize the pattern.

Its all videos of you- shot from Vox’s perspective, and a mortifying blush takes over your face. They’re all the moments that you had tried coming onto him. The innuendos and subtle entendres, the times that you touched him, pressed yourself against him in a tight space despite having another way to get to the copy machine, when you had invited him out for dinner. There’s also videos where he had just been watching you, apparently, taken from a distance as you spoke with Velvette or passed instructions along to a member of the team or discreetly tried to hide behind a vending machine when you noticed  Val coming into a room. 

There’s a satisfied grumble behind you, and before you can turn to look at him Vox has settled his claws onto either side of your waist and shifted you over a bit, to rest directly on the erection straining his pants. 

Which is a surprise, albeit a pleasant one.

“Thanks for the reset, doll,” he says, and his voice is a quiet growl as he lets his hands wander from your waist to your hips and back again, claw tipped fingers catching on the fabric. “I got a chance to look at some files while I was under and found quite the treat in your logs.”

This could either be very bad or very, very good. “Sir-”

“You know, I’m usually pretty good at picking up what a woman is putting down. Imagine my surprise when I realize you’ve been coming onto me for weeks and my shit was so fucked up and bogged down that I didn’t even notice. Like that?” He uses one hand to point to a screen in the far left of the central monitor, while he snaked his other hand down to rest on your thigh, his hand large enough to encompass the muscle at the edge of your skirt. On the screen, you had come to his office to drop off meeting notes for something you attended on his behalf. You had dropped the stack as you came around his side of the desk, and got down fully on your knees to pick them up, glancing up at him through your lashes. You blush watching it now- it had seemed obvious to you even then, but watching it now, the way that Vox had seen it? When he didn’t say anything about you being face level with his prick you had used a hand on his thigh to brace yourself to stand up, letting your fingers run along the inner seam of his trousers when you rose back to standing. Still no reaction, and you had left his office equal parts turned on and irritated with yourself. Him not having acted on it had been the final nail in the coffin cementing the fact that he was not interested in the slightest.

You let out a weak exhale as the Vox sitting under you gets his other hand in the same position as the first, using his grip to ever so slightly spread your legs on his lap. He lets his fingers skim your inner thighs and you shake with the effort of not begging him to just touch you. This was delicious, agonizing torture.

“Had I been in my right mind for that display, baby, I would have fucking ṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧd̶̵̯̯̼̘ͨ̓ y͙͙̪̰ͫ͌́o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡.” His voice crackles and glitches on the last words, and the sound of it forces a moan from your throat as you let your head fall back. You clutch your hands to the arms of the chair as his tongue- and who even really knew he had a tongue, what the fuck?- licks down the side of your jaw and at your exposed neck. “I would have had you choking on my cock before getting a taste of that sweet cunt and fucking you into the desk for hours.”

One hand finally slips under the edge of your skirt and you shiver when his fingers make contact with your soaked core. “Is that what you want now, babygirl? You want me to give you my cock as thanks for helping to set me straight? To make up for lost time?” He slides a finger under the thin material of your panties, groaning in your ear at how slick he finds you. “That’s what I want, doll. I want you to ride me so hard you go stupid with the feeling, and you never feel whole without some part of me in your cunt for the rest of for-fucking- ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧv̹̹̘̼̞̻͆ͩ̓ͪ͢ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟.”

“Fuck, please,” you gasp out, the word devolving into a cry as Vox finally slides a finger into you, mindful of the claws as he pushes in and quickly follows the first with a second. He uses his free hand to hold your hips still as you try to grind into his digits, keeps you held firmly against his erection as you squirm in pleasure.

His sharp fingertips angle to prod gently at a spot inside of you that has you seeing stars; your eyes are clenched shut as you ride the feeling, so close to the edge you feel like you’re going to implode with the force of it when you finally tip over. “Fuck, sir, please, so c-close,” you mumble, and his tongue is back to licking at whatever parts of your skin it can reach.

“You wanna come like this, sweetheart?” The main monitor in front of you glitches out, and when it comes back into focus you see yourself on the screen- like a mirror, you’re reflected, and you can see Vox’s grinning face behind you. Your skin is flushed, sweat dripping down your face, the hint of tears along your lashline as your mouth drops open when he adds a third finger. “Look fuckin’ beautiful, baby, you were made for this- maybe we give Valentino a call, he could-”

“No!” You release the arms of the chair to grab onto his wrists where his hands meet your body. “No one- no one but you, sir. Vox, please, l- let me come. Please?” You let a little whine into your voice, and you can see the way his mouth goes lax and his eyes laser-focus on where you’re grabbing at his hands.

“I didn’t mean to join us, dollface, just to record- but you’re right, you’re right.” He pulls his fingers from your pussy, slicing the center of your panties in the process before he brings his digits to his mouth- you watch on the screen as he curls his tongue around each one, licks the flavor of you from his skin and glitches out at the taste. “How could I possibly share such a fucking vision with anyone else?

He shifts you to one side so he can get his dick out, and the sight of it in the monitor, his own arousal beading at the top and rock hard, has you whimpering before it’s even inside of you. He carried himself like a man with a big cock, but Christ.

“Hope you like what you see, hun, cause it’s all yours.” He scoots forward in the seat, tilts his hips forward for the right angle, and moves you back into your previous position with ease- this time, the tip of him is pushing inside you, and you watch in the monitor as you sink inch by glorious inch onto him.

Once you’re fully seated, Vox seems to lose capability for rational thought. “Fuck me, you’re perfect,” he moans, bracing his feet more firmly on the ground to thrust up into you, getting a firm grasp on your hips to pull you down into it. The result is a beautiful stab at that sweet spot inside of you that makes you clench and cry out, watching Vox’s hypnotic eye start spiraling at its normal speed on the screen, and you can see backwards scrolling text of his stream of thoughts- a bunch of nonsensical letters and cuss words interspersed with your name. “I want to fucking- chain you to my desk so I can have this perfect pussy whenever I want it. Fuck, I can’t believe we- we could have been doing this for weeks.” He punctuates his sentence with a hard thrust.

“A-all the more reason to regularly clear your task manager, sir,” you say, so caught up in the feeling of him railing you from below that you can hardly believe you formed a coherent thought. He feels so fucking good and you’re a hair trigger away from collapsing and wringing him for all he’s got.

With one quick movement he’s shifted, and there’s a hand on your throat arching you backwards at the same time that he gets a couple clawed fingers rubbing at your clit. The shock of the combination makes you flutter around his length, a choked noise escaping your throat before he tightens his grip- not enough to really cut off your air supply, but enough that your brain starts going soft and mushy and the vice grip your cunt has on his cock gets impossibly tighter. You can see the shine of your slick arousal coating him every time he pulls out to rut back into you, and the sights and sounds are threatening to rip you into the chasm of ecstasy that you’re flirting with. 

“Vox,” you whine, “please, I’m so fucking- please please please-“ 

“Christ, babygirl, whatever you fucking want.” His eyes are wide and frantic as they watch the place you’re joined, his mouth set in a snarl as he fucks into your pliant body. The cry you release is nothing short of agonized- it’s so fucking close you can taste it, nearly overwhelmed with the tension.

“You wanna fucking cum on my cock? Do it, angel, let me see it- come on, baby, cum for me-“

Your walls clench down hard as you reach your orgasm, Vox’s grip on your throat making your vision and mind go fuzzy with the force of it as you choke on a moan that tries to escape your tensed muscles. You’re distantly aware of Vox thrusting hard into you, more praise and curses falling from his lips as he hits his peak as well, pressing his screen to the side of your face when he relinquishes his handle on your throat to clutch at your hips and grind into your cunt as he spills inside of you. The aftershocks of your release leave you twitching, milking his cock of everything he has to offer before he collapses into the chair behind you, a boneless pile of a man now simply running his hands over any bit of skin he could reach. 

It’s truly a testament to how helpful the reset and reboot had been that Vox’s system doesn’t simply crash. “Fucking Hell, I haven’t felt this good in decades,” he mutters in your ear, and you shiver at the feeling of his tongue brushing the sensitive skin.

“Ha, you think that’s the reboot or the mind-melting orgasms?”

He hums contentedly. “Jury’s out on that, doll. Guess we’ll have to do a re-run on both and see how it stacks up to this one.”

“I’ll make sure to schedule some time out for it,” you chuckle before fixing him with a stern glare through the monitor. “I’m serious about clearing your apps and shit more frequently though. Christ, you had decades of backed up shit open-“

“Don’t berate me while my dick is still inside you, fuck.” He leans you forward far enough to pull out, and you grimace at the feeling of his cum starting to spill back out of you. He notices the expression though- “Whoops, sorry,” he says, and after a quick second during which he tucks his softening prick away he scoops you into his arms, standing from the chair and stepping away from the desk. “Let’s get you cleaned up at the penthouse, angel, what do you say?”

“If you’re carrying me then lead the way.” You gesture towards the door out of the control room. “Just don’t start any timers to see how long it takes to get there or anything and we should be good.”

The glare he fixes you with shouldn’t be hot, but it fucking is. “Hardy har,” he deadpans, and rolls his eyes while he stalks towards the elevator, control room door closing behind you; but there’s a small smile on his screen despite his ire and he’s functioning normally, and when you see the little stopwatch icon pop up in the bottom right corner of his face and start counting, you can’t help but laugh.

[hminnj]

Maybe In A Different Age

Senku/fem reader

cw: angst no comfort (i tried) ik this fandom kinda dead lowkey but I wanted to write this cause its so senku coded. Senku's an idiot (unsuprisingly). Not very good writing.

wc: uhh i wrote this in my notes, around 1k probably

-

Byakuya brings two strangers into their house on a random thursday.

"Senku, this is a close friend and her daughter, I'm sure you guys will get along splendidly."

"Ok."

Five year old Senku is harshly blunt when he meets you for the first time, staring at him silently as if you've never seen a human before. He doesn't have anything to say and it seems neither do you, so he walks off, deciding he has better things to do. Promptly ignoring the sigh and apology the older man lets out.

.

"So I got this new idea and I'm going through the basic logistics and research right now, might need your help later."

"I'll go get us some snacks and something to do while you work on it then."

Six year old Senku watches you dissappear from his doorway, absentmindedly humming while you head to the very familiar kitchen. Your family has been apparently busy as of late so he forcibly sees your face more often. You usually just eat his food, do your work, and ask him (dumb) questions. You're a friend now, he supposes.

.

"Hey dum dum, Byakuya got me new equipment, so I have some new ideas. So listen up."

"Course Senku!"

Seven year old Senku grins, you're always willing to help him out for whatever reason you have (something weird probably, in his opinion). In return, he always tells you what he's working on and his labor demands. So per usual, he excitedly gets into the details of the next project that he plans on working you and Taiju to the bone for.

.

"Hey Senku?"

"What?"

"I think I love you."

"Huh? You better not be catching feelings dum dum." He gives you a confused squint after hearing your words.

"Whatever you say." You hum

Eight year old Senku hears you say those three words for the first time, you don't say why and he doesn't know either. He thinks its rather idiotic, but he shrugs it off after you silently go back to reading. You've been picking up books more often as of late, not that he cares much.

.

"You're late for the test runs, Taiju and Yuzuriha already left."

"Sorry sorry! My teacher held me up a little later at practice today."

"Hm." His disappointed stare returns.

"Im sorry..? Love you?" You're sheepish with your response.

"How is that supposed to make up for anything? Now come help me carry this stuff"

"As you wish, princess Senku."

Nine year old Senku doesn't understand why you and Byakuya tell him that so often (or that stupid nickname sourced from his "feebleness"), but he moves on quickly to detail the results of the test and the numerous next steps. Much to his pleasure.

.

"Wake up stupid. You fell asleep." Senku (roughly) shakes you awake from your shoulders, poking at your face a few times.

"Huh? Oh sorry Senku, I guess I'm just tired."

"Well you're not gonna wanna miss this." He grins while looking up, expectant.

"Hm. Hey the moons pretty tonight yeah?"

"It looks the same as it always does. Is that poetry getting to you and making you sappy?"

You wait before responding, "Maybe."

Eleven year old Senku keeps you up on certain nights for his projects or for nights like these where there's a meteor shower. He thinks you should stop reading so much of those books that make you sound like Byakuya. You should also get more rest, he adds.

.

"Happy Valentines Day Senku!! Got you a gift, heh."

"Must I tell you again?" Senku turns to a usual sight, you waving a gift in front of his face as if he were a dog.

"I'm good I just wanted to remind you."

"Right."

Twelve year old Senku doesn't see the point in meaningless feelings or holidays for said feelings. Nevertheless, he takes the homemade chocolate from you, skimming through the card which contents include exactly what he expected (a confession of sorts, again), and placing it to the side. Ignoring it in favor of the much more sensible chemicals in front of him. Like every year though, Senku keeps it. He doesn't know why.

.

"Taiju and Yuzuriha definitely have something going on don't you think?"

"And you're bringing this up why?"

You pause, you know why, but you know he wouldn't understand. "It's cute... wish I could have something like that you know?"

"...For the last time-"

"I know I know Senku, don't worry I'll try to bother you less."

Thirteen year old Senku doesn't see you as much anymore, mostly because of your practice that your mom wants you to perfect. You come over less nowadays, a shame (for his projects obviously), but your presence isn't any smaller of an intrusion at school. So much for bothering him less.

.

Around 21:00 is when he hears the familiar ringing of his doorbell. "It's late, why are you here?"

"Got out of training not too long ago and wanted to see you before I headed in."

"Your house isn't even remotely close to mine" A raised eyebrow is all you get in response to your grin.

"What does it matter when I'm already here, but gotta go before I get scolded. Goodnight Senku, Love you!"

"You know it's never gonna happen, as you know-"

"Yeah yeah, 10 billion percent illogical, I know, but I can't let my favorite person forget can I?" You flash another smile.

"As if I'd ever with how often you say it, now goodnight."

Fourteen year old Senku closes the door after you've cheerfully said your bye and faded from his sight enough. The lack of noise is strange, now that Byakuya has "ascended like an angel" (his words not Senkus) it's much quieter. The usual noise of a certain two people is absent more often than not. He let's the silence of the house sit in.

.

"Hey, can you get me something from the storage real quick? Need it soon but that bonehead forgot when he came up here babbling about confessing to Yuzuriha"

"Of course. I'd do anything for you. Always here. You know that Sen."

Fifteen year old Senku glances at your fleeting figure. The nickname is new, for sure. And he can't say he dislikes it, but the lack of a certain three words with your departure is strange. He brushes it off to your usual forgetfulness and peers out the window at Taiju and Yuzuriha. Thoughts preoccupied until a bright green light overtakes his vision and he can't do anything but think into the void.

So he counts.

And maybe every once in a while you pop into his head like you always do.

.

Three-thousand and something year old Senku wakes up to a world where theres a lack of civilization, a lack of his decency, and most importantly, a lack of you.

You would be useful right now, he supposes.

.

Three-thousand and something year old Senku spends his free time trying to find you and the rest of the "gang" (as you would say).

He finds Taiju, he finds Yuzuriha, he also finds a lion-punching maniac, but there's no sign of you.

He's ten billion percent sure you survived.

Right?

The concerned stare Yuzuriha gives him as they part is ignored.

.

(Physically) Sixteen year old Senku celebrates this birthday gazing into the sky from his new observatory. It reminds him of a lot of things, but he can't help but notice how empty it is, it's eerily quiet.

He doesn't like it.

Senku wishes you were here.

His first real birthday wish.

.

(Still) Sixteen year old Senku breaks when he hears his father's voice again for the first time in ages. It's not his voice that gets to Senku. He's heard it plenty enough in his lifetime. It's the mention of you.

"Just kidding! I know it's you on the other side of this Senku! And ____'s there with you right? Please tell me you're dating already or even better married so I can have grandchildren. Please please please Senku! Although you can't really tell me that but-"

Senku stops himself from showing vulnerability in front of the village, and he also stops himself from pausing the record right there and then. Opting to sigh and curse his dad out as a cover up, his fist lightly punching the table.

"Damn you old man."

The questions from the villagers about who you could be are forgotten in favor of an angelic voice. Senku's quick to tune it out. It reminds him of you.

.

(Mentally) Sixteen year old Senku sits by himself that night. It's been a long day. The constant repeat of a certain melody in the background, more work for the science kingdom, and a few questions about who you were. They stopped after a few radio silences from him, feelings are hard for the scientist after all.

It's cold.

He wishes you were here.

It's dark.

He wishes you were here.

It's lonely.

He wishes you were here.

The day he can always guarantee you're there has long passed. You should be here, is what his mind tells him. You owe him for the past 3000 years of missed birthdays after all.

It's funny, in his opinion. That you were probably most-definitely always there. And the one (multiple actually, 10 billion in his mind) time he looks for you, you're not there.

He doesn't think its funny.

"I'd do anything for you huh..."

Anything but keep your word.

He scoffs, but it's directed at himself. He would never blame you for this, or anything for that matter, he can't.

So he sits. And he stays. Like you would've wanted him too. He looks at the clear sky like you usually do. And he notes how the moon is pretty tonight. Just like you.

"I love you too."

He's 10 billion percent sure he does.

-

Thanks for reading, if you did :). Sorry for any errors not fully proofread. Senku is so right person wrong time coded when it comes to romance that i had to write this even if its lowkey bad

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

🎶🎻 let's see if this actually helps me find this later

WIBTA for marking up my friend's sheet music?

ok so I (15m) have a friend (17f) and we both play cello in the classical music ensemble at our school. we have both been playing cello for approx 7 years. we had very different musical upbringings: she learned to play cello in a class with a bunch of other kids, and from what I gather there were many other instruments and the teacher took kind of a hands-off approach, which is typical for the kind of elementary school she went to. I, on the other hand, learned through private lessons (which I don't think I'm better for, it's just different) and my teacher (who I still take piano and cello lessons from) is a little bit obsessive when it comes to correct technique and stuff. I care a little less about technique than my teacher, but I definitely developed quite a few of her habits: I always pay really close attention to what the sheet music tells me, especially dynamics and which direction my bow needs to go in, or how many notes I'm playing in a bow stroke. part of this is because that's what the composer would have wanted and also because when I started my teacher would make me mark everything, and I mean EVERYTHING in my sheet music. we're talking fingerings, bow markings, highlighting every chreschendo and decrescendo, putting the counting in for all of the rhythms and more. now I typically only mark super important things, like if I keep forgetting a note or something, and I rarely mark my cello sheet music in ensembles, though everyone has seen me mark my bass music, since I'm new to bass.

Recently, since it's about 2/3rds of the way through the school year and we have a good group, my ensemble has been playing more challenging stuff. the parts or more intricately layered and dynamics are a pretty big thing, especially for the cello section, since we basically have one line for half of a piece which is just to play some half notes that crescendo and decrescendo over and over. and it's like, all we do, like it's a pretty big part of the song. the issue is that my friend just kind of ignores the dynamic markings and bowings in the music and what the other cellists are doing (there's three of us, including me and her and she sits in between us) so she just kinda plays the piece at the same volume. the whole time. and it's written right there. and she's heard me play it solo without the ensemble before, so in theory she knows how to do it. and after seven years of playing the cello, you should have the bow control to play quietly.

now, this wouldn't annoy me so much if her ignorance wasn't a recurring thing. last year, we played aquarius with the jazz ensemble and we both really liked the piece. except we had this one part. we had to play a bunch of tied whole notes in the beginning. just two in a row and then we'd change bows. (if you don't play an instrument, a tied note is basically when the note is played over two measures, in this case we would play the same note fore eight beats, and then reverse the direction of our bow) now, I can hold my bow in one direction for eight beats. it's not fun or easy and I'd rather play a melody or bass line to begin with, but if you're playing quietly (like we were supposed to be) you can maintain a pretty steady pace for eight beats in one bow. my friend NEVER did this. she would just run her bow back and forth on the note until we moved on to the next and then do the same there. and I'm talking like she'd play maybe ten notes while we played one. which, obviously, through off the rhythm. we weren't as close last year and I didn't know she'd been playing as long as she had, so I ignored it. but, she kept doing it and she still does. I've confronted her about it multiple times, saying how it's like if you breathed half way through a note on a wind instrument, how it messes us up because her bow will go in a different direction than the other cellos and hit me in the elbow a lot, and how it makes us look weirdly messy. every time she just kind of says okay and walks off.

now, I think my friend could benefit from having her sheet music marked like my teacher used to make me, because clearly just mentioning it to her is not enough and as we move on to harder music it's making us look worse. so, wibta if I brought some extra pens and highlighters and reminded her to circle or highlight different dynamic, rhythmic and bowing notations if she doesn't play them the first few times?

What are these acronyms?

[writingwithfolklore]

How to Read with Intention

                Often you hear advice to read, read, READ!!! And while I absolutely agree with that, I think there’s a way to read effectively to learn from it, and make sure you gain the most you can from it.

                Reading intentionally looks like paying attention to and taking note of the technique, skill, and choices the author makes. Start with identifying the basics: motifs, theme, genre, through-lines. Essentially anything your English teacher wanted you to pick out of school readings (turns out those classes were actually worth something)!

                As you’re going through the story, record any questions, strong emotions, or other things that stick out to you. Try to be specific with page number and chapter so later you can see how the emotional narrative develops throughout the story. A note might look like, “I wonder what’s going to happen to Anna now that her mother is back in town” or “Josh losing his journal is ending my life”.

                Note what you really enjoy about the story, and also what you would change or do differently. Things that make you uncomfortable, in both good or bad ways, or that inspire you. I copy down quotes of lines or passages that I find particularly well written. Sometimes, I try to capture a character I particularly like through finding the quotes that speaks closely to them.

                Pay attention to every word. Writers make a million choices, what does using “sprint” rather than “run” change? Why does the scene in the school yard follow the scene at the tomb?

                What do we know about our main character? How do we know that? We could ask a million questions about a story, and with every one, we’re learning a little bit more on how to write one ourselves.

                Pay special attention to the ending. What insight does it give us to the rest of the story?

                Good luck!

[the-vast-corner-of-the-galaxy]

KW 2024- Day 2: Protectiveness

Day 2 of Kataang Week hosted by @kataang-week

Prompt: Protectiveness/Bodyguard - Tuesday, July 30th

I basically remembered this picture by @ sheepnishly on insta and thought it would be cool using it for this particular prompt.

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 3K

Modern AU where Katara is a singer and starts to fall in love with her bodyguard, Aang. 

It was a lovely morning in Ba Sing Se, and Aang, who was a martial arts teacher at one of Ba Sing Se’s biggest martial arts centers, was looking for jobs on the newspaper. Aang loved loved teaching, but he was already getting a little bored of his job. It paid a salary that was enough to get by in the big city’s middle ring, but he wanted to do something different from being a simply martial arts teacher. He got through various ads, but none of them had a position that he was interested in, until he got to a particularly small ad at the bottom left corner of the page:

WE ARE LOOKING FOR BODYGUARDS 

MUST BE FROM AGES 20-29

REQUIREMENTS:

Military officers

Martial arts masters

Daofei

MEET US AT THE JAZMINE DRAGON TEA SHOP ANY WEEK DAY IN THE AFTERNOONS

“This is such a weird ad,” said Aang out loud. However, curiosity got the best of the master and he decided to go to the Jazmine Dragon Tea Shop in the afternoon. Luckily, today he did not have to go to the academy to teach, so he took the train to the upper ring and headed to the tea shop. 

When he got to the busy tea shop, he was not exactly sure of what to do. He walked up to the counter where an older man with a long beard was preparing tea with a few other workers. 

“Hello! Welcome to the Jazmine Dragon!,” greeted the man. “My name is Iroh, what can I help you with?”

“Hello! I saw this ad on the newspaper and they told me to come here,” said Aang, pointing at the ad in the page. 

Iroh looked at it and gave him a warm smile and said: “They are over there in the back, at the largest table with the blue flowerpot.” Aang thanked him and headed to the back of the shop to the table where Iroh pointed. In that table, four men with dark blue suits sat while drinking tea. They all wore black sunglasses and had stern and serious expressions. 

“Uh… hello?” Aang greeted awkwardly. “I was told to come here for the ad-”

“Yeah, yeah, come here,” said one of the men. He was a tall and lean man with a short, brown ponytail, an undercut, a goatee, and brownish skin. He let Aang sit down in front of him and tilted his dark glasses down, revealing his dark blue eyes. 

“Are you by any chance a military officer, a martial arts master, or part of the Daofei?” he asked sternly. 

“Well, yes, I am martial arts master,” replied Aang, humbly. 

“Right,” said the man, writing notes on a piece of paper, “I am going to ask a few questions and later we will test your abilities in the martial arts. Prepare yourself.” 

Aang did not know what he meant by that last phrase, but he answered every question that was asked with full honesty. This was probably the most interesting interview he has received by far, but he was not exactly liking where it was going. 

When the inteview was finished, the man with the ponytail led Aang outside and thanked him for coming. Aang was walking away from the tea shop, when he suddenly felt a pair of eyes observing him. He then heard footsteps coming from multiple directions. Who could’ve been following him? 

Aang turned around and saw two dark figures in front of him. They were wearing all black suits and carried weapons. Aang stopped and positioned himself to defend himself. Aang did not like street fights or attacking people with no reason, but sometimes, he had to defend himself in life or dead situations. 

Four more figures came from the other sides, and had him surrounded. They were looking at him attentively, seeing if he would make a move. Aang stood still and kept calm, waiting for the other cloaked figures to move. 

One of them sprinted towards Aang and tried attacking him with a knife. Aang removed the knife with a swift of his hand and stunned him. Another one tried jumping on him, but Aang quickly threw him on the ground. The third one tried kicking him from the sides, but Aang quickly reacted and in just a few kicks, had stunned him. 

Before Aang could catch his breath, another figured began choking him with a rope, but thanks to his skills, Aang broke away from the grip and stunned the figure. More figures came running to him and attacked him from all sides. “This is so weird,” Aang thought to himself. He was easily defending and stunning the cloaked figures, but was growing a bit tired and gasped for air. Luckily, the figures ran away from him in a few minutes and left Aang alone in the streets of the Upper Ring. 

When Aang finished catching his breath, a familiar figure came from behind him and clapped his hands. It was the man who interviewed him in the tea shop.

“Impressive,” he said, “You’re hired. Now come with us.”

“Wait I-” Aang tried to speak, but a black limosine stopped where they were and they all huddled Aang to get inside the vehicle. Aang was seated between two of the men with suits, and the man who interviewed him sat in front of him and took out a can of the famous Cactus Juice.

“Are you guys the mafia?” Aang asked, feeling worried.

“Oh no, you got it all wrong,” the man laughed, “We are actually the security team of the famous singer songwriter Katara. You obviously know her, right?”

“I only heard a few songs by her,” Aang replied. “Why didn’t you guys mention that early?”

“If we were to reveal the reason why we are looking for extra security, the tea shop would’ve been a chaotic place,” said the man, “So we wanted to make the hiring as weird and mysterious as possible.”

Aang simply nodded, still feeling uneasy. “So… Where are we going mister…”

“Sokka,” replied the man. “You can call me Sokka. I am Katara’s older and awesome brother, and I am her manager. You said your name was Aang, right?”

“Yes, my name is Aang,” the young master replied. “You didn’t answer my question. Where are we going?”

“Oh! We are going to the recording studio, where Ms. Katara wishes to meet you,” said Sokka, “Do you want some Cactus Juice? It’s the quenchiest!” 

Aang politely declined the drink and stayed silent through the ride to the studio. When they got to the place, Aang was shocked to see the humongous building in front of him. It was about 40 stories and had a white, round, shape. They went into the building and took the elevator to the 34th floor. A white door in front of them had the words written on a sign that said “Do not disturb”, but Sokka simply knocked the door and was answered by a smaller lady with black hair tied up in a bun, dark glasses, and a black suit. 

“Toph, is Katara in there?” Sokka asked.

“What do you think, dumbass?” she asked sarcastically. “Of course she is in here! She says you’re late!”

Aang entered the room awkwardly and tried not making any noise. When they walked into the studio, a lean woman was standing looking at a large window that showed almost all of Ba Sing Se. She had wavy, dark brown, hair, and wore a short blue dress covered with a denim jacket and tall, white platforms. 

“You’re late, Sokka,” said the woman. “Did you find the new recruit?”

“Yes, Kat” said Sokka. “We found you another bodyguard. He is a martial arts master, a skilled fighter, and really nice!”

The woman turned around and revealed herself, and when Aang saw her, he felt like he was struck by lightning again. The singer was probably the most gorgeous woman he has ever seen. Her long, wavy hair fell perfectly on her shoulders, her eyes were the color of the ocean, and you could even see the water reflected on them. Her lips were painted a light shade of red, but completed her face perfectly. Katara was absolutely stunning, and Aang could feel his heart skip multiple beats at the sight of her. 

“Hello,” she greeted nicely. “What is your name?”

“Uh… my name is Aang,” replied Aang, still bewildered by the artist’s beauty. “Nice to meet you, Katara.” 

Katara extended her hand and shook it. “It is also nice to meet you, Aang. Come here, let us talk.” Katara welcomed Aang into the room with the large window and offered him a seat. He couldn’t take his eyes off Katara, not just because of her beauty, but because there was something about her that he felt drawn to, an unspoken energy. 

“So, Aang,” Katara began. “Are you from Ba Sing Se?”

“Well… no,” replied Aang. “I am from the Air Islands, but moved here a few years ago.”

“Oh! That’s intriguing,” replied Katara, taking a sip of water, “I haven’t been to the Air Islands in a while. It’s such a lovely place to visit. The mountains are gorgeous to look at, and the temples are some of the most impressive architecture I’ve seen.”

“Yeah, it’s a pretty nice place,” replied Aang, trying not to sound awkward. “So… how is this job going to work?”

“Oh! It’s fairly simple!” said Katara, grabbing a folder from the other side of the table. “Aang, you are going to be my personal bodyguard. You are going to be part of my personal team, which includes Toph, who is in charge of security, the three guards, Sokka, my manager, as well as many other people you will eventually meet. You are not just going to be working at the concerts, but also as a companion, a member of Team Katara.”

Aang nodded with too much enthusiasm and seized the folder from Katara’s hands before she could fully give it to him. He read all of the terms and conditions to his contrat, his salary, which would be very generous and three times his salary he got from the academy, and his schedules. He was technically going to be with Katara almost 24/7, but he did not mind, except for the fact that he would probably be very exhausted by the end of each day and each tour. 

Once Aang finished reading the terms and conditions, he signed the contrat and handed it to Katara, who gave it to Sokka. Katara stood up and shook Aang’s hand, welcoming him officially into the team. 

A few hours after getting to know the rest of Katara’s crew, he left the studio and was escorted by Toph through the elevator. 

“Tomorrow, you must be in this address by 9 AM,” she said, taking out a card. It had the address of a house in the Upper Ring, which he figured was Katara’s residency. “Also, Katara can be quite temperamental, so be careful about what you say.” Toph took out her glasses and handed the card to Aang. The master realized that the woman’s eyes were covered with a thick, grey, film. She was blind, which made Aang wonder how she was in charge of a whole security team, but of course, he didn’t mind.

“We will see you tomorrow, Aang,” she said as the elevator door shut behind her. Aang headed outside the studio and took the last train to the Middle Ring, filled with determination about his new job. 

***

The next morning, Aang headed to the address he was given last night. He got there at 8:55 AM, five minutes exactly before the time. The house he was sent to was a large, and impressive Earth Kingdom mansion. When he knocked the door, he was received by Toph, who welcomed him into the residence. 

“This is Katara’s residence,” said Toph. “You might be wondering why it is so large. The crew actually lives with here. She likes the company of people and loves interacting with the rest of the staff.”

Aang was impressed by the entire house and gawkwed at its design. The outside of the house had the style of many Ba Sing Se mansions, but the inside was decorated with objects from the Water Tribe. 

“Aang!” Katara exclaimed from the stairs. “You’re here! And just in time!”

Aang smiled at Katara’s warm welcome, and then Sokka came and began to explain the details of the day’s events. “Today, there is going to be a press conference about the upcoming album. It’s going to be up in the North of the Middle Ring. We are expecting a large amount of expectators and interviewers, so we will need to increase the security. Aang, you will be near the exit of the press room ready to escort Katara at any moment, and Toph will secure the perimeter with the guards and extra staff given to us. Is everything clear?”

Everyone nodded and then got in the vehicles from Katara’s garage to head to the press conference.When they got there, there were already many interviewers and reporters in the room. Aang got to his position and saw Toph with the rest of the guards securing the area. The conference began with questions about Katara’s upcoming album and about the upcoming tour. As the hours passed, the questions started getting more personal and Aang noticed Katara was feeling uneasy. 

A particular interviewer from the Earth Kingdom was pressing Katara on questions about a relationship she had with a famous activist named Jet in the past. Katara was visibly uncomfortable and tried everything to evade answering any details about their rupture, but the interviewer was still pressuring Katara. Sokka yelled at the man for being too invasive and did his best to go to the next question. The singer glanced at Aang with a call for help in her eyes. Aang understood the signal in a glimpse and escorted Katara out of the conference room. Sokka kept arguing with the reporters while Aang escorted Katara cradling her in his arms and covering her from the cameras of the paparazzi. When the door got shut behind them, Aang took her to the nearest empty room so she could calm down and shut the door. 

“Are you okay?” Aang asked with a tone of concern. “Would you like some water? Something to calm down?”

Before Katara could answer, she broke down in tears. Aang was not exactly sure what to do in that moment. He wanted to calm her down, but did not want to be too invasive since it was his first day working and barely knew Katara. 

Aang crouched and got closer to Katara, handing her a bottle of water so that she could drink it. She took the bottle and sipped on some of the water. There were heavy tears streaming down her eyes, which was making her makeup cascade on her cheeks. Aang decided to give her some tissues he had in his pocket so she could wipe her tears. 

“Thank you, Aang,” Katara whispered, calming down. “I always hate when they begin pressing so much on my personal life. Why do they need to take personal information from my relationships and make entertainment out of it? I cannot stand it!”

Aang stayed silent for a few moments, but then said: “Because they have nothing better to do. They just want to make profit out of the life of someone, and you have all the right to not answer any questions willingly.”

“I know, but it still annoys me,” said Katara. “You wouldn’t like it if the papers began publishing details about your last romantic relationship, right?”

Aang shook his head and stayed silent for a few moments, not sure of what to say to Katara. 

“Would you like me to tell Sokka to get the car so we can leave?” Aang asked, heading to the door.

“Wait!” Katara exclaimed, pulling Aang’s hand. “Can you please stay for a bit?” Aang’s heart skipped a few beats, but he turned back to the woman in front of him. When Aang faced the singer in front of him, he did not just see a music star, but a simple woman, who was showing emotion and needed comfort. 

Aang sat next to Katara and stayed close to her. Katara then turned around and wrapped her arms around Aang’s shoulders and cried some more. The young bodyguard did not know what to do and froze for a few moments, but decided to return the hug lightly and wrapped his long arms around her. Katara tightened her grip on his shoulders, searching for more security in Aang. A few minutes passed, and Katara’s cries seemed to ease, and her breathing came back to normal. 

“Thank you, Aang,” she cooed, looking at his silver grey eyes while holding his arms. Katara noticed the color in her bodyguard’s eyes and saw how pretty they were. The dark silver flakes made his eyes look like diamond jewelry and gave her a sense of security and comfort, a security she has been looking for years. 

A faint knock was heard from the door, and Katara turned around hoping it was not the paparazzi. 

“Kat?” Sokka called from the door. “Are you in there? The press left. We can go now.”

“You can come in, Sokka,” replied Katara. Sokka entered the room with caution approached the bodyguard and his sister with caution. 

“Are you okay?” Sokka asked. 

“Yes,” said Katara, following Sokka to the door. Then, she turned to Aang, stared sweetly into his eyes, and said: “Everything is better now.”

Aang felt his cheeks turn pink, and really hoped Katara or Sokka did not notice. He was starting to like his job a lot more, even if it had its stressful situations. Aang felt like he was going to enjoy his job, not because he worked for a famous singer, but because he cared for Katara. 

[marvel-ous-m]

Eddie Munson’s Guide for How to Adopt a Jock in Four Easy Steps (5/5)

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four

AO3 Link

A.N.: I’m actually kind of emotional posting this! It’s the first multi-chapter fic I’ve uploaded for ST and y’all have been so lovely this week. I hope you enjoy this 2,776 word ending (damn) to this fic that I’ve SO enjoyed writing and sharing. 

I want to give a very special shoutout to my best friend @lamoabss for being my beta for this chapter and also just being an all-around wonderful person. Please give them a follow, they’re so insanely talented and we’re planning to do some collabs over the summer! 

Okay, onto the last chapter!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first part of Step Three is easy enough- with all of Hellfire onboard, Eddie just needs to figure out the basics of Steve Harrington: likes, dislikes, allergies, school schedule, etc. All the things that high school students share with each other in the cafeteria over lunch or between class periods. So, Eddie makes like glue and sticks to Steve’s side. For the classes they share, Eddie moves to sit in the desk next to Steve- which is, sadly, pretty easy- no one is keen to sit next to the fallen king, probably out of some dumbass fear that they would catch whatever social pariah-ness that Steve had suddenly taken on. They trade notes during the classes that Steve zones out during- which, Eddie makes a mental note, are English and Math. (The other class they share together is Chemistry, and Steve can barely take his focus from whatever their science teacher is talking about to say ‘hi’ to Eddie when he comes into class five minutes late, which he does on a fairly regular basis. Eddie also files that information away for later). 

By some unexplainable miracle, for the classes that Eddie doesn’t share with Steve, some member of Hellfire can fill in that space. Jeff takes Spanish 2 with Steve, Gareth has woodshop, and Grant has art and P.E.. Eddie employs them to run reconnaissance as they work together to make sure that Steve never has to sit alone in a class, and they begin to compile information through their various efforts. 

Steve can draw pretty well, but he only uses pens to sketch. He loves art class and sits at the front to see the board better, so he probably needs glasses. He talked to the P.E. teacher last week and now all he does during class is sit in her office and file papers, I think she’s making him sit out for a few weeks because she thinks he has a concussion. Based on his behavior, he probably does. -Grant.

Steve hates woodshop. He sits in the back of the class and doesn’t pay attention, and if the professor catches him and makes him actually do work, he gets this look in his eye and panics a little. He does this thing with his right hand where he clenches it a couple times until he can breathe better. He won’t go near a hammer. I don’t really understand it. -Gareth. 

Steve sucks at Spanish. He said something to me the other day about the letters not making sense. With the way he squints at his paper and the way he writes… I’m going out on a limb here, but he might be dyslexic? -Jeff. 

Steve doesn’t pay attention in Math but he has an A, so he’s actually freakishly good with numbers. He doesn’t pay attention in English for the opposite reason, I think Jeff’s onto something. He loves Chemistry but he doesn’t have the best grade in that class. I think he pays attention because he wants to do a better job. He’s well rested on Monday and Friday morning, but Tuesday, Wednesday, and especially Thursday he looks like he’s about to fall over all day. I catch him nodding off in Math those days, and, maybe coincidentally, his shoes are really muddy on the mornings when he comes in tired. -Eddie. 

With the new information, the boys get to work. Gareth makes himself Steve’s woodshop partner, doing the majority of the building and letting Steve relax for the most part, having him only do whatever wood staining that needs to be done. Grant shares some of his sketches with Steve in class to try and make him more confident about his art skills, which works surprisingly well. Grant also brings up his dyscalculia seamlessly over lunch one day and answers whatever questions Steve has. Jeff gives Steve his Spanish notes and asks to study together on Thursday nights. Steve turns him down- apparently Thursday nights he actually babysits Dustin so that Dustin’s mom, Claudia, can go to a Bingo thing with her friends, but Steve offers up Fridays after class in the library, which becomes a new tradition for them. 

Eddie can’t offer much in the way of English notes (why read Shakespeare when there are hundreds of Sci-Fi and Fantasy books out in the world?) but he does make time to talk with Steve about English during lunch on Tuesdays. They go to the library instead of sitting in the cafeteria with the rest of Hellfire, and they work their way through whatever assigned reading their teacher gives them. Steve’s pretty tired, but not as tired as he is on Wednesdays or Thursdays, so it works, and they both find themselves actually understanding the subject matter for once. As for math- well, Eddie has Steve answer whatever questions he has rather than the other way around, but that seems to help Steve’s confidence about his math skills- which really are quite impressive. Eddie also finds himself as Steve’s lab partner for every Chem project. It’s a little bit chaotic- turns out that Steve understands Chemistry to a certain extent, but prefers to mess around more than actually learn something- which, yeah, dangerous, but also fun… very fun. (Eddie especially likes to play with the Bunsen burner- call him a pyromaniac- but his antics always pull a laugh from Steve, a bright sound that makes Eddie’s heart sing, so he keeps at it despite many, many reprimands from their Chem teacher). 

The winter months turn to Spring, and Steve begins to bloom at the same pace as the flowers and trees around town. He contributes to conversations at lunch, plans to hang out with the guys when he has spare time, attends their band practices and cheers them on- hell, by March he even agrees to play a character in Eddie’s newest campaign. Eddie makes him a Paladin, which he claims fits Steve the best out of everything he could think of. Steve loves the character and picks up on what it’s like to actually play the game rather than strategize pretty quickly- unsurprisingly, Steve loves it. 

The Hellfire boys seem to take Steve’s blooming personality in stride- Jeff goes over to Steve’s to bake chocolate chip cookies one-on-one, which they bring to the next campaign. He and Grant bond over art, swapping sketches and gifting each other art supplies. Every time Steve receives something, his eyes get this look- and every time that Eddie witnesses it, he’s reminded of why they brought Steve into their small-but-mighty crew, and is extremely grateful that Steve is acclimating so well. Steve and Gareth are fast friends, which takes all of them by surprise. Apparently, Steve gave Gareth some hairstyling tips, and that was that. 

Steve’s personality isn’t the only thing that’s changing come Spring. Eddie finds himself staring at Steve’s mouth much more frequently. In fact, he can count a number of times where he could swear that Steve was doing the same to him. They laugh at each other's jokes more frequently, share stolen moments by Steve’s locker in between classes where they speak in hushed voices about whatever comes to mind. It’s… nothing that Eddie’s ever experienced before. At the same time, Eddie can’t imagine life without these moments with Steve, and while Jeff’s cautionary words are still at the forefront of his mind, he can feel himself falling harder, and it’s slowly reaching a worrisome point-of-no-return.

Time flies, and in the blink of an eye, it’s June. Steve passes all of his classes with the help of Hellfire, Eddie fails English and P.E. again (which he unfortunately expected- another year in this hell doesn’t sound all that appealing, but he figures that he can at least hang out with the guys for another year, and with Jeff in Senior English maybe he’ll actually pass). The four of them attend Steve’s graduation, where they meet some of the middle schoolers that Steve had spoken so highly about over the last few months. They all sit together and cheer as loud as they can when Steve walks across the stage and gets his diploma, even earning a few hushed whispers from surrounding parents to sit down and be quiet. Steve’s parents were nowhere to be found, but when everyone caught up with Steve after the ceremony to congratulate him, it was clear that he didn’t mind- in that moment, he had everyone that he cared about surrounding him. 

Hellfire presented Steve with a club T-Shirt as a graduation gift, which he took with a wide smile on his face and that same look in his eye. Eddie took a moment to mentally pat himself on the back- Step Three: Get Steve Fully Integrated Into Hellfire, complete. (Yeah, he fell harder for Steve, but he kept that to himself and got Steve through the rest of the school year while also giving him a new group of friends- and, theoretically, Steve was none the wiser about Eddie’s feelings. All in all- not bad, Munson. Not bad.)  

The kids had to leave pretty quickly after congratulating Steve- something about getting Dustin packed for summer camp and Claudia having been the one to drive all of them to graduation- but not without Dustin and his friends making Eddie promise to let them into Hellfire when September came around, while simultaneously gawking about him letting someone like Steve into the group. (Their bright personalities and excitement about Hellfire helped Eddie feel a bit more optimistic about the year ahead- who knew, maybe ‘86 would be his year).

Once the crowd dispersed, the rest of the boys of Hellfire also going their separate ways to get a start on summer plans, Eddie invited Steve over to the trailer to share a joint and spend the night. Wayne was pulling a 24 hour shift, and Eddie figured Steve needed an opportunity to let loose before starting work at the new ice cream shop, a job Steve was dreading. (Although, Eddie was secretly pretty excited about Steve’s new job, given the embarrassing uniform that Steve had described). 

Steve took Eddie up on his offer, which is how they ended up splayed next to each other on Eddie’s bed, legs tangled together and giggling through the soft haze that came with working through some of Eddie’s stash. One thing led to another, and, at Steve’s quiet, embarrassed request, they tried out ‘shotgunning’, which turned into a very heated makeout session. 

The development was entirely unexpected, but, as was later revealed during a conversation at sunrise, mutually very welcomed. So maybe Step Three wasn’t entirely completed in accordance with Jeff’s warning, but whatever. This was good- actually, scratch that, this was perfect. Best-of-all-possible-scenarios, win-win situation. They started dating- keeping it secret, only sharing it with the other members of Hellfire, and then only because Jeff clocked it within three minutes of one of their summer D&D sessions starting. They were all very supportive (save for a warning glare from Jeff that Eddie was on the receiving end of), and for about a month, Steve was the happiest that Eddie had ever seen. And yeah, Eddie was the happiest he’d been in a long time, too. Sue him, Steve was a great boyfriend- and was fucking perfect in the bedroom. (12/10 stars, give the man an award, kinda perfect. And that sailor suit? Goddamn…)  Eddie didn’t know how he got so lucky, but he was going to do everything in his power to keep this gift from the universe in prime condition. 

June turned to July, and Eddie’s understanding of the world as he knew it completely changed come Independence Day. Eddie was woken up by a phone call in the middle of the night from Steve, who, sounding beyond exhausted, asked for a ride home for him and his coworker Robin. Eddie arrived at the scene and was shocked by the sheer magnitude of what he had unknowingly stumbled upon. There were at least five times as many emergency response vehicles than Hawkins had, the newly-constructed mall was actively burning to the ground, there was a huge crowd outside a long yellow barrier of police tape, and a few faces Eddie recognized beyond the police tape: specifically Steve’s middle schoolers, Nancy Wheeler, Jonathan Byers, and-

There was Steve, holding a blanket around his shoulders, sitting in the back of an ambulance next to his coworker Robin, who Eddie knew from theater, band, and the handful of times he came in to visit Steve at work. Eddie ducked under the police tape without much fanfare and made his way over to the ambulance, pulling Steve into a hug the second he was within arms length. 

They left pretty soon after that, Steve quietly explaining that he had told Robin about their relationship after vomiting their brains out in the movie theater bathroom. Which- Eddie wasn’t really sure how to unpack all of that, but that wasn’t exactly important at the moment. He drove Steve and Robin to Steve’s house, and, at their request, Eddie laid in Steve’s parent’s California King bed with the two of them. After a few hours of all of them trying to sleep but coming up unsuccessful, Steve finally started speaking. Once he started, he couldn’t stop, and an explanation of the hidden dark side of Hawkins came spewing out.

It was dawn by the time Steve finished recounting everything, and Eddie believed him without question. He trusts Steve intrinsically, he knows Steve would never lie about something like this- something so life-altering and burdensome. Besides, Steve’s story matched events that Eddie could place: Will going ‘missing’, followed by Barbara Holland, then Will magically re-appearing around the same time that Steve had his falling out with Hagan and came back to school with a beat-up face from Jonathan Byers. Steve walking the tracks with Dustin as he’d explained all those months ago in November took on a new meaning- they were searching for a monster from an alternate dimension that Dustin had accidentally let loose. The clenching motion Steve made and his aversion to woodshop suddenly made sense, too. In the middle of recounting the events of early November 1984, Steve left his parents room and returned with a wooden bat filled with nails that fit perfectly in Steve’s hand- he explained with an embarrassed flush on his cheeks that it kept him grounded, that he couldn’t sleep without it- that sometimes, when he was anxious, he felt himself reaching for the thing- but if he was relaxed, the idea of holding something even vaguely similar made him sick to his stomach. 

Steve then moved on to describe the sleepless nights, how he made himself patrol Hawkins from sundown to sunup on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday nights, often trudging through the forest with his bat, ready to kill the next ‘big bad’ that came from the dimension existing under their feet. 

Robin contributed what she could when Steve reached the events at Starcourt. After hours of talking in hushed whispers under the covers of Mr. and Mrs. Harrington’s bed, the three of them passed out, too exhausted to keep their eyes open. 

The next few weeks were hard, but the three of them got through the nightmares together. Before Eddie knew it, the school year was starting, Robin and Steve were inseparable, working together at Family Video (because the two could barely spend a minute apart), and July 4th, 1985 felt like a distant thing. 

As the months passed, Eddie and Steve’s relationship only became stronger, and in March of 1986, when Eddie watches Chrissy Cunningham be killed by seemingly supernatural forces, he knows who to call. 

With a proactive start on things, they kill Vecna on the first try. No one dies- really, the worst that happens is a couple of scratches here and there. They live. 

They love. 

One day far in the future, as Eddie watches his husband play with their daughter, he thinks back to that November day in 1984, and sends a quiet thank you to his younger self. That Eddie in the library may have had no idea the long-lasting effects that his plan would’ve had on his life, but Eddie couldn’t be more thankful. Steve was nothing like the ‘lost sheep’ Eddie had initially assessed him to be- he had grown so much, found himself, accepted himself. He was Steve. Eddie’s Steve. He was his own, beautiful, intelligent, kind, sometimes-awkward (yet adorably so), person. 

Secret, Unplanned Step Four: Make Steve Harrington Fall in Love with Me (While I Fall Irresistibly in Love With Him), complete.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List:  @ellietheasexylibrarian @cuips-not-cute @melodymeddler @i-have-three-feelings @sc00ps-ahoy @singmeyoursimpsong @patchworkgargoyle @spectrum-spectre @devondespresso @thesuninyaface @obsessivlyme @angeldreamsoffanfic @carlyv @nburkhardt @inspirationorinsanity @rebelspykatie @my2amgaythoughts @lavenderagenda @just-a-tiny-void @mamafaithful @breadboi66 @beholdingloser @randomfandomcontent @oftirnanog @yellowdevilkitten @steves-strapcollection @keep-er-steddie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @bisexualdisastersworld @jinxjinn @copingmechanizm @blackpanzy @failedstarsandgoldenclouds @evix-syne666 @crisisinverted17 @satan-is-obsessed @shrimply-a-menace @anaibis @trashcanniballecter   @thoughtfulbreadpolice @awholedamnmesstbh @chaoticvictorianspirit @jcmadgirl @satan-is-obsessed @tommyvelvet @sleepdeprivedflower @fruitmix @carvingsnowdogs @annabanannabeth @rhyswritesreadsandcries @a-little-unsteddie @goodolefashionedloverboi @escapingthereality @aellafreya @lololol-1234 

[so-much-for-the-seashells]

Coffees, Plural

Colt Seavers (The Fall Guy 2024) x Reader

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters in this story except for Sheila and the reader insert!

Author’s Notes: Reader uses she/her pronouns and is AFAB; reader has an immigrant mother, however where her mother is from is unspecified. The plot of the movie hath been screwed with, basically just imagine the movie with no *SPOILERRR* murdering by our dear leading man, that Jody and Colt are just friends and Colt never had his accident. While I don’t like erasing big plots it was hard to work around it with the timeframe of both the movie and the fic, hopefully the writing makes up for it 🙃 Jody and reader are friends from college, Colt and reader meet on the set of Metalstorm. If you like the story, a comment would be super appreciated! Part two and three are out! Icons by @gosling-girlx !! She’s the best!

Content/Content Warning: Nothing crazy, this is just the meet cute!

𐬿𐬼𐬿𐬼𐬿𐬼𐬿𐬼𐬿𐬼𐬿𐬼𐬿𐬼𐬿𐬼𐬿𐬼𐬿𐬼𐬿𐬼𐬿𐬼

If you had asked me what I thought I’d be doing with my life ten years ago, me-from-ten-years-ago would have told you something along the lines of “I don’t know,” “teacher,” or perhaps “nomad.”

That would’ve been her (me-from-ten-years-ago’s) third year of college, where she was newly 21, burnt out, sick of the education program, and just about ready to drop out.

Then she discovered makeup. Fun, out of the box makeup. Her immigrant mother, who really did mean well, had given her a graphic liner palette for Christmas- “Oh honey, I thought this was the makeup you wanted!” And sure, it wasn’t what she had wanted… at first… but then, the week before exams in a fit of stress, she tried it out. Five hours later she discovered a talent she never knew she had, and had created a look that had astounded both her and her roommate, Jody Moreno.

She’d always been good at the basics- rarely did a day pass without getting a compliment on her eyeliner wing or her ombré eyeshadow, but this graphic liner? This was where it was at. It challenged her and made her smile, and she finally found what she wanted to do in her life. Makeup-more specifically the out of the box makeup- had been what spoke to her after years of not knowing what it was that she truly loved.

She- I- dropped out the day before my exam. A couple years later, after some practice and online beauty school, I had a steady gig going with weddings, senior pictures and other fancy clientele. My mom wasn’t super hyped about the idea of a makeup artist daughter at first, but once she saw the bank I was making within half a year of working her mind was changed.

Now listen. I wasn’t actively looking to be this restless soul who wouldn’t stop until she found “the perfect gig.”

But quite frankly, the makeup that pays the best is usually the most boring in composition. I could do these plain, “natural” looks in my sleep. But the thing was, nothing was giving me the same rush as when I ventured out of “normalcy” with that graphic liner years ago. Sure, in my free time I’d practice the cool graphic stuff, even venturing into more VFX style stuff, like wicked scars and things, but my free time was few and far between.

About a year ago, that same Jody Moreno, my old roommate reached out. As far as careers go she definitely had a straighter path than me. For as long as she could remember she wanted to be a director, she’d tell me. We both went to community college, but for her it was for her undergraduate so she would have a fall back if her film degree didn’t end up taking her anywhere.

Film ended up working out for her, and though we lost touch after community college, from what I’d seen on her Instagram she was doing pretty freaking well for herself, and I was happy for her.

Her producer finally gave her a shot at directing her own film last year, a movie called “Metalstorm.” Some sort of space opera with a cowboy of all things, starring world-famous actor Tom Ryder.

Now, I’m not personally too big on Tom Ryder movies- he comes off as a douche and his acting is… a choice, to say the least.

However, when your old roommate reaches out with a job proposition to be a part of a Tom Ryder movie, you don’t say no.

I couldn’t have said yes faster to Jody’s offer. I remember gawking at the screen when I read her message-

“Hey, y/n!

I know it’s been a long while, and I’m sorry for that!

To make up for it, I was wondering if you’d like to work as makeup artist on this movie I’m directing? It’s sort of a space opera with a cowboy- I know, it sounds random- and the producer’s letting me do some of my own hires if I’d like.

Anyway, if you’re interested, I’ll provide you with more details. We’ll be shooting in Australia, and I’ll get you your own trailer on set. Just let me know!

X Jody Moreno”

I could barely register how adorable it was that she still signed off with an X after all these years because of how shocked I was.

First was the fact that she had gotten her own movie- it wasn’t so much shocking as incredible, and super exciting.

Second was the fact that she was offering me a job, and that she remembered me when she got big in the industry. I had told her before I dropped out to remember me when she was famous, as a joke, but I guess she took it seriously which was extremely endearing.

I replied with an enthusiastic “yes!” and the next thing I knew I was in Australia.

I’ve gotten to do all sorts of weird makeup things since I’ve been here, including funky scars and alien makeup. It’s the dream, and it’s a blast!

I have even been trusted to do Tom Ryder’s looks, which thankfully don’t take too much effort or time because as I suspected, he is in fact a massive douche with an ego the size of Mars. I was able to get him passed over to Sheila, our executive makeup artist who takes no nonsense, and who cuts him off by busting into song- usually an eighties hit- any time he tries to speak. She has a great voice, so both the lack of his asshole words and the presence of her beautiful voice are very much welcomed.

Sheila liked the work I was doing for the Space Cowboy scars though, so she gave me Douchebag’s main stuntman to work on.

Enter Colt Seavers. Six feet of pure muscle and a well filled out frame, blue eyes with an energy that can only be described as “puppy-like,” brown hair that’s dyed blonde on the tips to match Douchebag, and a rogue-ish beard. He’s undeniably attractive, and he’s got a sarcastic sense of humor to match.

Basically, he’s what Tom Ryder is played out to be, but better. 

When I had first met him, it took me a hot minute to pick my jaw up off the floor. It was a Monday morning, three months into my time on the filming site. I’d over slept that morning, and made it to the makeup trailer ten minutes late, worried that my new client would be wondering where I was. In my defense, 6 in the morning is too early to be doing anything.

I had breathed out a huge sigh of relief when I found out that he was apparently also running late, and grabbed a grape soda from the mini fridge in the trailer. We had every flavor- from cherry to pickle- but I was most fond of grape.

Sheila, who was my main friend in the makeup crew as well as being my most direct boss, didn’t have to come in for another hour because Tom Ryder was always (at least!!) an hour and a half late to every appointment. I didn’t really know the other artists at the time, so I just sat in my chair waiting for my client as the others worked on the early clients. They were working on the extras who played humans in the upcoming scene, making sure everyone had a unique futuristic look.

Ten minutes later I decided I was sick of waiting and pulled out my graphic liner, the same pallet from ten years ago. It was a little worse for wear, about half the colors missing and the others not far off. But it reminded me of my roots and why I was where I was, and I couldn’t bear to part with it- even if I was in dire need of pink. Kidding. I love the thing, so, so much.

I ended up doing something elaborate with purple, green and blue arches. It sort of looked like the northern lights, if the northern lights were a dramatic eyeliner wing.

I was nearly done with the touch ups, too locked in on the look to notice on the figure that appeared behind me somewhere between the second swipe of purple and the subtle yellow accent.

“Hi! You must be y/n, sorry I’m late-” came a soft, low voice that had a slight gravel to it. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t exactly focusing on the exact tone of his voice when I jumped with a slight squeak and dragged yellow down the side of my face. Real nice.

“Oof, sorry!” he said. He was holding two cups of coffee, and he looked very unsure of what to do.

If wiping yellow eyeliner down the side of my face hadn’t been embarrassing enough, I just had to look up. I caught his blue-eyed gaze in the mirror, took in all six feet of him and was basically, to put it as elegantly as possible, completely taken aback by his hotness.

I promise I’m not a superficial person, by the way. Colt Seavers is just really this pretty. I’ve never been one to notice the “intensity of the blue hue of [one’s] eyes,” or any romance novel cliche like that, but Colt Seavers was a very different story.

Remember how I mentioned that my jaw had been on the floor when I met him? When I stopped mentally drooling over him in his dirty white Space Cowboy costume with all its latches and gold accents I realized that my mouth was actually open. Oops. Really great first impression.

“I’m so sorry. Let’s try this again. I’m y/n, and you’re-“

“Colt Seavers- stuntman, and guy who scares makeup artists when he’s a half hour late. Sorry I startled you,” he apologized genuinely.

“It’s all good,” I said, standing up. His chest is eye level, and I don’t really know how to feel about that. “I’ll tell you what- how about you take a seat and just give me a minute to wash this off,” I suggest.

“Yeah of course, please, take your time!”

“No worries, it’ll be just a minute. You can set your coffees, plural, on the counter in front of the chair,” I told him.

“My coffees, plural, and I are grateful for your kindness,” he teased. I shook my head and smiled, and then walked into the bathroom of the trailer to fix my face. About a minute it was off- thankfully my old pallet wasn’t the most top notch makeup. I returned back to my little booth of sorts, where Colt sat comfortably, his leg bouncing up and down.

“Are your coffees, plural, comfortable?” I asked by way of greeting.

“Why yes they are, thank you,” he chuckled.

“I’m going to get started on the scarring in your face, if that’s alright?”

“Of course.”

“So… the coffees?” I tried to make conversation as I pulled a couple of pallets out from the drawer in the booth.

“They’re my life force,” he says dramatically.

“Oh yeah?” I first grab an alcohol wipe, and gently wipe his face.

“Yep- and also the reason I was late. Sorry again, by the way.”

“No worries- I was late too. Only ten minutes though,” I start applying primer with a fluffy brush.

“We can’t all be a half hour late,” he conceded as if it were an accomplishment. I liked his humor right off the bat.

“That is true…” I agree as I finish applying the powder. “Alright, we’re going to let that sit a minute. Care to tell me how your coffees- plural- made you late?”

His ears turn red. Man, he’s cute.

“Er- I have an affinity- not an addiction!- for coffee, if you couldn’t already tell.”

“An affinity?” I raised an eyebrow, trying to emulate The Rock in my stare.

“Yes, an affinity,” there was that little laugh again. It’s sort of a giggle, and definitely unexpected from this guy who looks like a walking action hero. I liked it. “Anyway, I drank a cup-or two-before getting into this costume, thinking that if I had to, er, piss, I could get out of it easily. It took a half hour to get into all of these damn buckles, and by the end of that half hour, guess who had to piss?”

“The costume designer?” I joked. That got a laugh out of him, again.

“Yes, the costume designer, obviously. But yeah, apparently a side effect of my coffee addic-affinity is perpetual lateness.”

“Huh, I’ll have to keep that in mind,” I noted as I reached for one of my pallets. “I’m going to start on the scarring on your face, there’s one that goes on your left cheek and another where your hair’s parted.”

“Okay, sounds good.” It’s quiet for a little bit, but not necessarily in an awkward way. I’m about halfway done with the scarring on his cheek, the one that’s supposed to look like a fresh wound.

“So, how’d you get into makeup?” Colt asked, careful not to move his mouth too much.

“Oh, that’s a bit of a long story,” I told him, adding highlights to the scar.

“I’ve got time,” he said, the corner of his mouth quirked up.

“If you say so…” I mumbled, before telling him the abridged version of how I got into makeup.

“I have to say, I’m really glad your mom bought you the wrong pallet,” he commented at the end of my story.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, you’re really good at what you do,” he complimented, sincerity in his voice as he checked himself out in mirror. By that point I had finished his face, and stepped behind him so he could see himself. We both smiled, eyes meeting in the glass.

“Thanks,” I said, trying not to cringe at the light blush that had appeared on my face.

Looking back on it, I think my crush on Colt Seavers really did develop on day one. But little did I know, it’d only get stronger.

𐬿𐬼𐬿𐬼𐬿𐬼𐬿𐬼𐬿𐬼𐬿𐬼𐬿𐬼𐬿𐬼𐬿𐬼𐬿𐬼𐬿𐬼𐬿𐬼

[lampiridaes]

HELLO!!! iys me again heheh, id like to request ermm.. tsukasa and minori, with a s/o that RARELY shows affection by physical touch, BUT gets really clingy when theyre half awake or when theyre sick,,, though when they fully regained their consciousness/health,, they get embarrassed about it? thank yew :3!!

♬ now playing: "suddenly clingy"

-> when you've got a partner as aloof and reserved as you, can you really blame them for being so surprised?

★ — chars ; tsukasa , minori

★ — notes ; MWEHEHE HELLO AGAIN LYN (i hope thats ur name and im not misreading anything somehow huhu)!!! another tsukasa and minori req... rlly love writing them so im always grateful :3 DID U KNOW I DREW MINORI FOR MY CLASS PIN THING!?!?! my teacher was nice enough to print it out for everyone hehe... still have yet to receive it bc of break but just a fun little thing that happened!! hope u enjoy <3

★ — warnings ; implied fem!reader for minori (implies that reader also attends miyamasuzaka) , otherwise none!

★ — taglist ; @akitosheart , @mintchocaur (tsukasa!!)

affiliated with @virtualbookstore ★

★ track #1: tenma tsukasa

to put it simply, tsukasa was really surprised! just the night before, you were so calm and reserved, maybe holding his hand a few times. even kissing his cheek once or twice.

... but right now? after you just woke up? you're all over him. literally. he doesn't mind, please don't get him wrong! tsukasa finds it endearing, if anything. it's just...

"tsukasa... love you..."

feeling your entire body cling onto his with such desperation... he wants to question it, but at the same time, it might risk embarrassing you and making you back away again, which isn't what he wants at all!

though the embarrassment was basically inevitable, as 20 minutes or so later, you're back to your usual self, just a little more shy this time.

"oh, goodness... tsukasa, i'm sorry, i didn't-"

"not to worry, [name]! i don't mind it one bit!"

he knows that you don't show a lot of affection normally for a reason. maybe you're too shy, maybe you're uncomfortable with it. as much as he loves it when you do, tsukasa doesn't force you to do anything! sure, he'll ask once or twice every once in a while, but he's very understanding if the answer is no.

... though, if you do it when you're fully awake for the first time... expect him to suddenly get all quiet and freeze up. it's a good thing, no worries.

★ track #2: hanasato minori

minori's way of showing her love for you is mostly words of affirmation or gift giving, so she doesn't mind that you aren't too keen on physical affection!

that doesn't mean anything bad, of course! it's not like she doesn't want to hug you, hold you, or kiss you, it's just that... she's a little shy about it. which means your lack of physical affection works out just fine.

so you can imagine how perplexed she was when you started begging for her attention, holding her hand and asking her to stay with you when you got sick.

"minori, stay a little longer... i'll feel so much better if you're here..."

minori may be an idol now, but hearing compliments from someone she truly holds near and dear to her heart... might give her a heart attack.

... but she also really adores it. after all, it makes her feel loved and special, more so since it's coming from you, of all people.

with all the training and practices she needs to attend to nowadays, minori makes sure to leave cute, handwritten notes or sweet text messages to check up on you! if you're allowed to use your phone when you're sick, that is.

when you finally recover and go back to school, it's absolutely over for the both of you. minori gets flustered easily on her own, but now that you've also lost your cool, getting all red alongside her? it's quite a cute scene from an outsider's perspective.

... the outsiders being the rest of more more jump, of course. as silly and clumsy the two of you can be, you're really the perfect pair for each other.

[fourthwingfan]

Madness - Chapter 5

Hello there readers. This is the new chapter, I hope you'll like it. It's a tiiny bit long though. I warned you.

Note: Violence, blood, injuries etc.

Ps: I won't be coming with a new chapter for a while because my best friend has a bachelorette party tomorrow, but I start writing the new chapter at Monday. Thanks for your patience.

Knowing I am in direct disagreement with General Melgren’s orders, I am officially objecting to the plan set forth in today’s briefing. It is not this general’s opinion that the children of the rebellion’s leaders should be forced to witness their parents’ executions. No child should watch their parent put to death.

– The Tyrrish Rebellion, an official brief for King Tauri by General Sorrengail

“Welcome to your first Battle Brief” Professor Devera says from the recessed floor of the enermous lecture hall later in the morning, a bright purple Flame Section patch on her shoulder matching her short hair perfectly. This is the only class held in the circular, tiered room that curves the entire end of the academic hall and one of only two rooms in the citadel capable of fitting every cadet. Every creaky wooden seat is full, and the senior third-years are standing against the walls behind us, but we all fit.

It’s a far cry from history last hour, where there were only three squads of first-years, but at least the first-years in our squad are all seated together. Now if I could only remember all their names.

Liam is easy to remember – he was the first who talked to me after Parapet. Somehow we became friends. But if I want to be honest, I don’t mind. He’s really kind and somehow I feel that I can trust him. It’s strange. My father always told me not to trust anyone. And despite my hatred for him, this sentence become one of the pillars which hold my life.

“In the past, riders have seldom been called into service before graduation” Professor Devera continues her mouth tensing as she paces slowly in front of a twenty-foot-high map of the Continent mounted to the back wall that’s intricately labeled with our defensive outposts along our borders. Dozens of mage lights illuminate the space, more than making up for the lack of windows and reflecting off the longsword she keeps strapped to her back.

“And if they were, they were always third-years who’d spent time shadowing forward wings, but we expect you to graduate with the full knowledge of what we’re up against. It’s not about just knowing where every wing is stationed, either.” She takes her time, making eye contact with every first-year she sees. The rank on her shoulder says captain, but I know she’ll be a major before she leaves her rotation teaching here, given the medals pinned on her chest. “You need to understand the politics of our enemies, the strategies of defending our outposts from constant attack, and have a thorough knowledge of both recent and current battles. If you cannot grasp these basic topics, then you have no business on the back of a dragon.” She arches a black brow a few shades darker than her deep-brown skin.

“No pressure” I mutter laughingly to Liam.

“The most powerful general in Navarre is your father. I think you can manage this class somehow.” He snorts.

“Hey. I’m not a genious, you know.” I whisper.

“And even humble.” He openly laughs at me. “You know all the answers in history. But I don’t think it counts if you only told me and not the teacher when he asked questions.”

“I don’t care what they think of me.” I say in a serious tone.

“This is the only class you will have every day, because it’s the only class that will matter if you’re called into service early.” Professor Devera’s gaze sweeps from left to the right and pauses on me. Her eyes flare wide for a heartbeat, but she gives an approving smile and nod before she do the same with Violet. “Because this class is taught every day and relies on the most current information, you will also answer to Professor Markham, who deserves nothing but your utmost respect.”

She waves the scribe forward, and he moves to stand next to her, the cream color of his uniform contrasting with her stark black one. He leans in when she whispers something to him, and his thick eyebrows fly high as he whips his head in my direction then he looks at Violet.

“Shit.” I mutter as I slide lower on the chair. “Why can’t I be invisible?

“You’re stand out a little bit to that.” Liam answer helpfully. “Maybe if you didn’t dye your hair, you didn’t stand out as much. I mean those silver stripes are a little bit flashy.”

“I didn’t dye my hair. It’s been like this since I was born” I answer while staring straight ahead of me. I don’t like to talk about my mother. I didn’t know her but it’s still painful beacuse of the many what ifs. What if I knew her? Would she loved me? If she were alive would I have a normal family? It’s painful.

“Oh, I see.” And he didn’t push the subject any further as if he sensed that I’m not comfortable with it.

“It is the duty of the scribes not only to study and master the past but to relay and record the present” Professor Markham says, rubbing the bridge of his bulbous nose. “Without accurate depictions of our front lines, reliable information with which to make strategic decisions, and - most importantly - veracious details to document our history for the good of future generations, we’re doomed, not only as a kingdom but as a society.”

“First topic of the day,” Professor Devera moves toward the map and flicks her hand, bringing a mage light directly over the eastern border with the Poromiel province of Braevick. “The Eastern Wing experienced an attack last night near the village of Chakir by a drift of Braevi gryphons and riders.”

Oh shit. A murmur rips through the hall.

“Naturally, some information is redacted for security purposes, but what we can tell you is that the wards faltered along the top of the Esben Mountains.” Professor Devera pulls her hands apart and the light expands, illuminating the mountains that form our border with Braevick. “Allowing the drift not only to enter Navarrian territory but for their riders to channel and wield sometime around midnight.”

My stomach sinks as a murmur rises from the cadets, especially the first-years. Dragons aren’t the only animals capable of channeling powers to their riders. Gryphons from Poromiel also share that ability, but dragons are the only ones capable of powering the wards that make all other magic but their own impossible within our borders. They’re the reason Navarre’s borders are somewhat circular - their power radiates from the Vale and can only extend so far, even with squads stationed at every outpost. Without those wards, we’re fucked. It would be open season on Navarrian villages when the raiding parties from Poromiel inevitably descend. Those greedy assholes are never content with the resources they have. They always want ours, too, and until they learn to be content with our trade agreements, we have no chance of ending conscription in Navarre. No chance of experiencing peace.

But if we’re not on high alert, then they must have gotten the wards rewoven, or at least stabilized.

“Thirty-seven civilians were killed in the attack in the hour before the squad from the Eastern Wing could arrive, but the riders and dragons managed to repel the drift.” Professor Devera finishes, folding her arms over her chest. “Based on that information, what questions would you ask?” She holds up a finger. “ I only want answers from first-years to start.”

My initial question would be why the hell the wards faltered, but it’s not like they’re going to answer a question like that in a room full of cadets with zero security clearance.

I study the map. The Esben Mountain Range is the highest along our eastern border with Braevick, making it the least likely place for an attack, especially since gryphons don’t tolerate altitude nearly as well as dragons, probably due to the fact they’re half-lion, half-eagle and can’t handle the thinner air at higher altitudes.

There’s a reason we’ve been able to fend off every major assault on our territory for the last six hundred years, and we’ve successfully defended our land in this never-ending four-hundred-year-long war. Our abilities, both lesser and signet, are superior because our dragons can channel more power than gryphons. So why attack in the mountain range?

“The only logical explanation is that they were looking for something.” I mutter to Liam.

“Are you not going to speak up in this class either?” He asks.

“Nope.”

“Come on, first-years, show me you have more than just good balance. Show me you have the critical-thinking skills to be here.” Professor Devera demands. “It’s more important than ever that you’re ready for what’s beyond our borders.”

“Is this the first time the wards have faltered?” a first-year a couple of rows ahead asks.

Professors Devera and Markham share a look before she turns toward the cadet. “No.”

The room falls pin-drop quiet.

It’s not the first time.

Which means they were looking for something for a while? Interesting.

The girl clears her throat. “And how… often are they faltering?”

Professor Markham’s shrewd eyes narrow on her. “That’s above your pay grade, cadet.” He turns his attention to our section. “Next relevant question to the attack we’re discussing?”

“How many casualties did the wing suffer?” A first-year down the row to my right asks.

“One injured dragon. One dead rider.”

Another murmur rises from the hall. Surviving graduation doesn’t mean we’ll survive service. Most riders die before retirement age, especially at the rate riders have been falling over the last two years.

“Why would you ask that particular question?” Professor Devera asks the cadet.

“To know how many reinforcements they’ll need” he answers.

Professor Devera nods, turning toward the meekest first-year in Violet’s squad, who has his hand up, but he lowers it quickly, scrunching his dark eyebrows. “Did you want to ask a question?”

“Yes.” He nods, sending a few locks of black hair into his eyes, then shakes his head. “No. Never mind.”

“So decisive” another first-year in that squad  mocks from next to him, tilting her head as cadets laugh around them. A corner of her mouth tilts up into a smirk, and she flips her long brown hair over her shoulder in a move that’s anything but casual.

“He’s in our squad. Show some loyalty.” A third woman chastises.

“What a friendly squad. They like a big family.” I whisper to Liam.

“You’re not friendlier then them, you know.” He smirks at me.

“Maybe.” I cross my arms and turn my attention back to the class.

“If Fourth Wing is done picking at one another?” Professor Devera asks, lifting a brow.

“What altitude is the village at?” Rhiannon asks. I’m sure it was Violet’s question. She doesn’t like the attention.

Professor Devera’s eyebrows rise as she turns to Rhiannon. “Markham?”

“A little less than ten thousand feet.” he answers. “Why?”

Rhiannon darts a dose of side-eye at Violet and clears her throat. “Just seems a little high for a planned attack with gryphons.”

“It is a little high for a planned attack” Devera says. “Why don’t you tell me why that’s bothersome, Cadet Sorrengail? And maybe you’d like to ask your own questions from here on out.” She levels a stare on her

Every head in the room turns to her direction. If anyone had an inkling of doubt about who is she, it’s long gone now.

Poor Violet.

“Gryphons aren’t as strong at that altitude, and neither is their ability to channel” She says. “ It’s an illogical place for them to attack unless they knew the wards would fail, especially since the village looks to be about what…an hour’s flight from the nearest outpost?” She glances at the map. “That is Chakir right there isn’t it?”

Scribe’s training for the win.

“It is.” A corner of Professor Devera’s mouth lifts into a smirk. “Keep going with that line of thought.”

“Didn’t you say it took an hour for the squad of riders to arrive?” Her gaze narrows.

“I did.”

“Then they were already on their way,” she blurts, immediately recognizing how silly that sounds. Her cheeks heat as a mumble of laughter sounds around her.

“Yeah, because that makes sense.” Jack turns around in his seat from the front row and openly laught at her. “General Melgren knows the outcome of a battle before it happens, but even he doesn’t now when it will happen, dumbass.”

I feel the chuckling of our classmates reverberate in my bones. I can feel my rage rising.

“Fuck off, Barlowe,” Rhiannon snaps.

“I’m not the one who thinks precognition is a thing,” he retorts with a sneer. “Gods help us if that one ever gets on the back of a dragon.” Another round of laughter has her face flaming more.

Enough!

“You’re so familiar with General Melgren that you know exactly what he’s able to do with his signet Barlowe?” I glare at him. “With you’re level of brain, be thankful if a dragon will choose you at Threshing, if you can make it there. It’s way above your skills to get to know the General.”

“Pff, the same goes for you girl.” Someone shouts behind me.

I glance behind me to look at that stupid man who said that. I found him. He wears a first-year emblem on his jacket, and looks like he’s in Violet’s squad.

“He’s my father, you jackass.” I glare at him.

“He doesn’t have a daughter, you liar.” He retorts.

That’s it. He’s even dumber than I thought. It’s a shame to argue with him.

“And they try to become riders. Without the knowledge what’s going around them. I pray that at least a handful of cadets be smarter than them or Navarre is lost.” I sigh in mock sympathy while I turn back. “Maybe General Melgren’s signet isn’t able to identify the when, but if you can’t understand what Cadet Sorrengail implies, then you won’t make it Threshing. I gurantee that.” I smile at Jack while my implied threat still in the air.

“That’s enough. You should know that listening to other cadet’s questions is just as important as asking.” Professor Devera says to Jack. “And Cadet Melgren you should work out that temper in the gym.”

“Oh I can’t wait the challenges Professor.” I answer while glaring daggers at Jack.

“Why do you think that way, Violet -“ Professor Markham winces. “Cadet Sorrengail?”

Nice distraction.

“Because there’s no logical way they get there within an hour of the attack unless they were already on their way” Go, Violet tell them. “It would take at least half that long to light the beacons in the range and call for help, and no full squad is sitting around just waiting to be needed. More than half those riders would have been asleep, which means they were already on their way.”

“And why would they already be on their way?” Professor Devera prods, and the light in her eyes tells me she’s right.

“Because they somehow knew the wards were breaking.” She lifts her chin

“That’s the most-“ Jack starts.

“She’s right” Professor Devera interrupts, and a hush falls over the room. “One of the dragons in the wing sensed the faltering ward, and the wing flew. Had they not, the casualties would have been far higher and the destruction of the village much worse.”

I snicker at Jack who looks completly baffled.

“Second- and third-years, take over” Professor Devera orders. “Let’s see if you can be a little more respectful to your fellow cadets.” She arches a brow at Jack as questions begin to fire off from the riders behind us.

How many riders were deployed to the site?

What killed the lone fatality?

How long did it take to clear the village of the gryphons?

Were any left alive for questioning?

I write down the important questions and answers, my mind memorizing the facts, organizing into logical sequences.

“How can you make notes when you don’t even look at the paper in front of you?” Liam wonders

“Years of practice.” I cut it short.

“What was the condition of the village?” A deep voice asks from the back of the lecture hall.

The hairs on my neck rise, my body recognizing the imminent threat behind me.

“Riorson?” Markham asks, shielding his eyes from the mage lights as he looks toward the top of the hall.

“The village.” Xaden restates. “Professor Devera said the damage would have been worse, but what was the actual condition? Was it burned? Destroyed? They wouldn’t demolish it if they were trying to establish a foothold, so the condition of the village matters when trying to determine a motive for the attack.”

Professor Devera smiles in approval. “The buildings they’d already gone through were burned, and the rest were being looted when the wing arrived.”

“They were looking for something,” Xaden says with complete conviction. “And it wasn’t riches. That’s not a gem mining district. Which begs the question, what do we have that they want so badly?”

„Wow. You said that they were searching for something too.” Liam stares at me with surprise.

„Yeah, so? It was obvious.” I blink at him.

„No. It was not. You really have a sense for it, haven’t you?” he whispers.

I just shrug, then turn back my attention to the class.

“Exactly. That’s the question.” Professor Devera glances around the room. “And that right there is why Riorson is a wingleader. You need more than strength and courage to be a good rider.”

“So what’s the answer?” a first-year to the left asks.

“We don’t know,” Professor Devera answers with a shrug. “It’s just another piece in the puzzle of why our constant bids for peace are rejected by the kingdom of Poromiel. What were they looking for? Why that village? Were they responsible for the collapse of the ward, or was it already faltering? Tomorrow, next week, next month, there will be another attack, and maybe we’ll get another clue. Go to history if you’re looking for answers. Those wars have already been dissected and examined. Battle Brief is for fluid situations. In this class, we want you to learn which questions to ask so all of you have a chance at coming home alive.” Something in her tone tells me it’s not just third-years who might be called into service this year.

After class the cadets started to flow out from the lecture hall. I packed up my things and when I turned to Liam, Professor Devera said my name.

„Cadet Melgren. For a word.”

„I think you’re in trouble.” Whispres Liam. „I’ll wait for you outside.”

I nod then turn toward the Professor.

„Yes?” I ask.

„General Melgren sent a message that he wants to speak to you after today’s classes are over.” She answers

„Understood. Where?” I ask tensly.

„In his office.”

„Then if there is nothing else, I would like to go. I have gym.”

„Yes, go ahead.” She dismisses me.

Outside of the hall I see Liam talking with Xaden at the corner of the courtyard.

That’s my luck. I have one somewhat of a friend and he’s just coincidentally a big buddy of Xaden it seems.

They must realised that I finished talking with Professor Devera beacuse they make their way to where I stand.

„Is everything all right?” Liam asks worriedly when they aprroached me.

„Yeah, she just wanted to pass on a message.” I shrug.

„A message? From who?” Xaden asks suspiciously.

„It’s not your business Riorson, but is seems that General Melgren wants to see me after classes are over.” I say with a forced smile.

„General Melgren?” He raise an eyebrow.

„You’ve got a problem with that?” I narrow my eyes at him.

„No, it’s just interesting.” He says. „But I think you don’t have time to chat with me. If I remember correctly you have gym class soon, and Professor Emetterio doesn’t like latecomers.”

„Shit. Then we should go Liam. I really don’t want to be late because of Riorson.” I fake a horrified expresson.

„Ah, and I thought we could converse once without your insults.” He smirks.

„In your dream Riorson. If you don’t like my style then you would be doing a favor for the both of us if you would avoid me in the future.” I say while grabbing Liam’s arm and start pulling him in the direction where the gym class will be.

„Then we will definitely see each other later.” He stares at me with an unreadable expression. „I almost forget. Have fun in the gym, Sunshine.” I hear him laughing.

When I try to turn around, this time Liam grabs my arm and pulles away faster.

„We need to hurry if we don’t want to end up late.” He drags me with him.

---

„You seriosuly knew every answer in histroy and apparently every right question to ask in Battle Brief.” I hear Rhiannon says it to Violet. Coincidentally their squad are standing behind our sparring mat. „You’re not even going to have to study for tests, are you?”

There are already two first-years on the mat from our squad. They’re evenly matched in size. One of them is Ethan whom I have seen talking to Liam. He has a rebellion relic too. I don’t remember his opponent’s name but I’m sure he’s a little less irritating than the others in our squad.

„You seem pretty calm. Are you not worried about who your opponent will be?” Liam watches me with interest shining in his eyes.

„No. I’m sure that I can beat most first-years. Quite a few have developed muscles if you look them closely. You’re one of them so I’m curious how well you can fight.” I look over him.

„Maybe we will be paired up.” He winks at me.

„Yeah. Who knows?” I shrug, and the vest Mira made us shimmers slightly with the movement. Other than the times the scales catch the light under the camouflaging mesh, it fits right in with the tops we’d been given from central issue yesterday. All the women are dressed similarly now, though the cuts of their leathers are chosen by preference.

The guys are mostly shirtless because they think shirts give their opponent something to grab onto. Personally, I’m not arguing with their logic, just enjoying the view…respectfully, of course, which means keeping my eyes on my own squad’s mat and off the other twenty mats in the massive gym that consumes the first floor of the academic wing. One wall is made entirely of windows and doors, all left open to let in the breeze, but it’s still stiflingly hot. Sweat trickles down my spine under my vest.

There are three squads from each wing here this afternoon, and lucky me, First Wing has sent their third squads, which include Jack Barlowe, who’s been glaring at me from two mats over since I walked in.

„Stop circling each other like you’re dance partners and attack!” Professor Emetterio orders from across the mat, where Theo watches Ethan and the other guy’s match – maybe his name is Lucas? Or Luke? Something like that – with our squad executive leader, Zanaya.

Ethan launches toward Lucas – I think I will go with this name until someone tells me his name – but he ducks, sweeping out his leg and tripping Ethan. He staggers but doesn’t go down. He pivots quickly, palming a dagger in his hand.

„No blade today!” Professor Emetterio bellows from beside the mat. He’s only the fourth professor I’ve met, but he’s definitely the most intimidating. „We’re just assessing!”

Ethan grumbles and sheaths his knife just in time to deflect a right hook from Lucas.

„What about you? You don’t seem worried either.” I ask Liam as Ethan lands a jab to Lucas’s ribs.

„Shit!” He shakes his head and backs up a step. „I don’t want to hurt you.”

Lucas holds his ribs but lifts his chin. „Who said you hurt me?”

„Pulling your punches does him a disservice” Theo says, folding his arms. „The Cygnis on the northeast border aren’t going to give him any quarter if he falls from his dragon behind enemy lines, Ethan. They’ll kill him just the same.”

„Let’s go!” Lucas shouts, beckoning Ethan by curling his fingers. It’s obvious he had a proper trainig before entering the quadrant, when he slips a jab from Ethan and twists to land a quick jab to his stomach.

Ouch.

„I’m pretty good on the mat. My foster brother whom I grew up with taught me many things.” He answers while watching the match.

„You have a brother? I didn’t know.” I look at him.

„He’s not my brother by blood, we grew up together after the apostasy and that made us close friends. That’s why I said he’s my brother.” He shrugs. „Now watch the match.”

Apostasy is the Tyrrish term for rebellion. I rarely heard it mentioned this way.

That’s when Ethan charges Lucas taking him to the mat with enough force to make me observe him more. He’s surprisingly strong for his light build.

Lucas hooks his legs around Ethan and somehow leverages him over until he’s the one on top, landing punch after punch to the side of his face. Blood spatters the mat.

A tooth goes flying. Ouch.

„Enough!” Professor Emetterio shouts.

Lucas rolls off Ethan and stands, touching his fingers to his split lip and examining the blood, then offers his hand to help Ethan up.

He takes it.

„Zanaya, take Lucas to the healers. No reason to lose a tooth during assessment” Emetterio orders.

A couple of mats over, someone shrieks, and we all turn to look. Jack Barlowe has another first-year in a headlock. The other guy is smaller, thinner than Jack, but still has a good fifty pounds on me.

Jack yanks his arms, his hands still secure around the other man’s head.

„That guy is such an ass-„ Rhiannon starts behind us.

The sickening crack of bones breaking sounds across the gym, and the first-year goes limp in Jack’s hold.

“Sweet Malek,” I whisper as Jack drops the man to the ground. I’m starting to wonder if the god of death lives here for how often his name must be invoked.

“What did I say?” their instructor shouts as he charges onto the mat. “You broke his damned neck!”

“How was I supposed to know his neck was that weak?” Jack argues.

“Eyes forward,” Emetterio orders, but his tone is kinder than it has been as we all look away from the dead first-year. “You don’t have to get used to it,” he tells us. “But you do have to function through it. You and you.” He points to Liam and another first-year in our squad, a man with a stocky build, black hair, and angular features. Shit, I can’t remember his name. Trevor? Thomas, maybe? There are too many new people to remember who is who at this point.

Liam makes quick work of the first-year, stunning me every time he dodges a punch and lands one of his own. He’s fast, and his hits are powerful, the kind of lethal combination that will set him apart.

„Do you yield?” he asks the first-year guy when he takes him to his back, his hand stopped mid-hit just above his throat.

“No!” he shouts, hooking his legs around Liam’s and slamming him to his back. But he rolls and quickly gains his feet before putting the first-year in the same position again, this time with his boot to his neck.

“I don’t know, Thomas, you might want to yield,” Theo says with a grin. “He’s handing you your ass.”

Ah, that’s right. Thomas.

“Fuck off!” Thomas snaps, but Liam presses his boot into his throat, garbling the last word. He turns a mottled shade of red.

Yeah, Thomas has more ego than common sense.

“He yields,” Emetterio calls out, and Liam steps back, offering his hand.

Thomas takes it.

„You-” Emetterio points to one of the second-years with a rebellion relic. „And you.” His fingers swings to me.

He’s at least a head taller than me, and if the rest of his body is as toned as his arms, then I can’t let him to touch me. I need to be faster.

I nod and step onto the mat.

„You’ve got this.” Liam says, tapping my shoulder as he passes me.

„Melgren.” The man looks me over like I’m something he’s scraped off the side of his boot, narrowing his pale green eyes. „You really should dye your hair if you don’t want to stand out like this. Soon, everybody will know who is your father.”

„Never said I cared if everyone knows who my father is.” I circle the second-year on he mat.

I say while trying to distract him. General Melgren often says the minutes you let emotion enter a fight, you’ve already lost.

„You bitch” he sheethes. „Your father murdered my family.”

He lunges forward and swings wildly, and I quickly sidestep, spinning then landing a hard punch where his kidneys are located.

He grunts then turns around and we start it again. We do this for a few more rounds, and I land a few punches here and there. Always moving faster than him.

After another punch he stumbles and I kick his leg out from under him and I pin his legs down so he can’t move. That’s it when he manages to land a punch.

I can feel my head snapping to the side, my ears ringing, but I don’t move. I’ve endured worse. If I move now then he can use his legs and I will be in trouble.

I punch him in the face. When he raises his hands to protect it, he leaves defensless his neck. I hit the side of his neck causing him to be momentarily unable to breathe and he puts his hand to his neck, then I punch him in his face, and I can feel the bones breaking. I broke his nose. I hit again.

He starts coughing while his blood is dripping from his nose. He can’t do anything in this condition.

„He yields.” Emetterio calls out, and I back off from him. „Hey you” he points to another second-year „Escort him to the healers. We don’t need him bleeding all over the mat.”

I step next to Liam and a new match starts.

„Gods, Aelin. You were really scary on the mat.” Liam says looking at me. „And your face, are you all right? Want me to accompany you to the healers?”

„I won’t go the healers, Liam. I’m fine.” I look at him confused.

„What? No way. You’re bruse is already turning black. That must have hurt.” He looks at my face with concern.

„A little bit. It’s not that bad, really. I have much worse bruises when I started to train.” I try to calm him.

His eyes widen and opens his mouth to further question me when…

„Yield, Violet!” I hear Dain yells.

What? Violet? I turn around quickly and I see Violet and a pink-haired second-year on the mat. With a rebellion relic. Shit.

„She yields.” their instructor says. „That’s enough.” I hear it again – the macabre sound of snapping bone – but this time it’s hers.

[coalswriting]

murder and rescue ii - natalie scatorccio

summary – ghostface makes a return with a bit of help (approx. 1.6k words) >> part i <<

tw; murder, mentions of sexual assault, slight homophobia/fetishization of lesbians, natalie, reader, and misty are evil in a Fucked Up Way

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

finding out that natalie scatorccio was ghostface was not something that existed on your yearly bingo. you hadn’t talked much about it since the night at the party, and some twisted part of you didn’t seem to mind that she was a murderer. in fact, you found it energising, exciting, intriguing. these, you decided one day as you listened to music and stared at your bedroom ceiling, were not the words you should have been using to describe your girlfriend. maybe you were as messed up as she was.

natalie had killed a few more times since the party. there was a guy that misty was having trouble with. he had felt her up in the middle of a lab and he didn’t stop even when she pushed his hand away. she couldn’t tell anybody because he was the son of a well-respected teacher. misty wasn’t his first, nor last victim. she found out who ghostface was (seriously, the girl was basically a detective), and instead of handing the information to the police, she actually asked nat to take care of him. this is how misty, natalie and you became a trio; your house was the hideout, natalie was the killer, and misty was the medic and brains.  

every time nat would show up outside your window at an obscure time, you always unlocked the door for her, let her run a hot bath, and hid her outfit. then, the two of you would passionately make out and love each other until dawn; the thrill was sickeningly addicting. this system had worked for a few kills, but eventually natalie stopped. justice was served, and you assumed that the predators of wiskayok high had ceased their ways. that was until two months later.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

natalie pushed you into a bathroom cubicle, pinning you against the wall. you moaned as her lips attached themselves to your neck, kissing you down to your shoulder of which she pulled the hem of your shirt to reveal. “nat,” you breathed heavily, warmth pooling into your stomach. your girlfriend smirked, bringing her mouth to your ear.

“shut up,” she whispered huskily before nibbling your lobe. your hands clasped themselves onto her hips as you pulled her closer. suddenly, a hand covered your mouth as natalie went stiff. you heard three or four voices enter the bathroom and then the unzipping of (presumably) a makeup bag.

“what is it that you wanted to tell us, allie?” one of the girls said, “you’ve been looking nervous all day.”

“well”, you heard allie’s voice, “you know patrick johnson?”, followed by a few ‘mhhmms’, “he forced himself on my sister at a party a few nights ago. i couldn’t go and protect her, i was sick. she’s been closed off ever since and she won’t tell me exactly what he did. i’m so worried…”

natalie’s eyebrows rose in curiosity as the both of you listened. you heard the girls reassure allie before one of them piqued up, “he’s really evil, i’m sorry. he did the same to tamara too… nobody believed her so she dropped out to avoid him. she was so lovely too.”

after consoling allie for a few minutes, all the girls went back to their classes. natalie finally took her hand off your mouth and whispered to you, “we need to get that bastard.”

you only nodded in return.

“i’ll tell misty to meet at yours tonight and we can plan it?”

“yeah,” you murmured, “looks like ghostface is back.”

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

the three of you stalked your prey over the period of a few weeks. you found his phone number and took note of his patterns: he always arrived at school ten minutes before assembly and used his locker first, after third period, he always went the bathroom, and he walked a friend home every day. most nights, he was home alone because his mother worked the night shift. his lights were off by 11pm most nights, and he almost always forgot to lock the back door.

it was 3am on a tuesday when you rang his phone. with the help of misty, you had installed a voice changer into your own device, and he answered after the third ring, voice sleepy and tired.

“uhhh, hello?”

you smiled as you spoke, “is this patrick johnson?”

you heard a shuffling on his side before he finally answered, “who is this?”

you watched from the bushes as natalie slipped her way towards his garden, hugging the wall. she was donning the ghostface costume, knife hidden under a fold of fabric. “you need to tell me, are you patrick johnson? this is serious.”

“fuck off”, is all he said before he hung up his phone. your eyes darkened as you rang again, and he picked up faster this time.

“seriously, who is this? don’t mess with me.”

“patrick,” you said, voice barely a whisper, “have you seen any horror movies?”

“uh, yeah, a few. why?”

you ignored his question, continuing with yours, “do you know what motives the killers normally have?”

“they’re normally insane, like you,” he growled, and you heard him hang the phone up again.

so, you rang again.

“fuck off, leave me alone. i’ll come and kill you,” he threatened, seething from anger.

“you’re right,” you said, darkly, “they normally are insane. but they can have motives too. have you heard of ghostface?”

when patrick didn’t reply, you continued to talk, “ghostface only kills people that deserve it.”

his voice was shaky as he cut you off before you could talk more, “is this ghostface?! i didn’t do anything!”

“i’m not ghostface”, you said simply, “but you did, patrick. you hurt a lot of young girls, didn’t you?”

“wait, listen to me! they never said no! leave me alone-“

“i didn’t finish,” you growled, shutting him up, “as i was saying; i’m not ghostface, but look behind you.”

you heard shuffling again, and then a muffled scream through the phone alongside the sound of the device being dropped. there was an audible struggle as he pleaded for his life. your smile grew wider. the tussle appeared to last about three minutes until everything fell eerily quiet. then, you heard someone pick up the phone, and the voice of your girlfriend rung out, quiet and still, “come in.”

you sauntered in through the back door, entering his kitchen. the phone he had used to call you was left discarded, a few feet away from the counter. you stomped on it, breaking it to pieces before turning to your girlfriend. she stood over the body, breathing heavily. stepping over the corpse of patrick johnson, you ripped the mask off ghostface, watching as her hair cascaded down her shoulders like it had the first time she revealed herself to you. she looked like a goddess, basked in an omnipotent light. you felt your heart flutter, watching blood drip down her lips.

“he got me good”, she said, smiling at you. she then looked down at the deceased, an animalistic grin painting her features. her eyes were wide; not with fear but with fascination – the adrenaline of the hunt was taking her over, as if she wasn’t herself.  

snapping her out of her admiration, you wiped her bloody nose with your thumb before you brought your lips to hers. the kiss was passionate, and you could taste the metallic taste on her mouth, though that didn’t deter you. her hands trailed down your body before resting on your hips and before you could escalate the kiss, you heard the jingle of keys coming from the front door. you pulled away from your girlfriend as she put the mask back on and you pulled your hood over your head. taking the knife out of the corpse, she ran out the back door she had come in from, you following her. nobody saw you.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

you closed the suitcase that contained natalies now clean costume, sliding it under your bed. she met your gaze as you entered the bathroom, slipping into the bathtub with her. natalie pulled you into her chest, brushing your hair with her hands as you both relaxed in the hot water. you hummed relaxingly, before looking up at her.

“i love you”, you confessed. though this was not the first time natalie had heard you say this, her heart still began to beat a little harder than before and you chuckled, “i can feel your heart!”

“shut up,” she gave you a playful slap on the thigh before sighing gently, “love ya too.”

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

the next morning came faster than you had expected, and as you, natalie, and misty sat in your assembly, an announcement came through the speakers.

patrick johnson was dead; a suspected murder.

misty, natalie, and yourself gave each other fake confused looks as you peered around the classroom, a small hint of amusement in your faces. everybody burst into chatter and discussion, theorising who killed patrick. not many seemed to be particularly sad, moreso than they were curious. misty continued to doodle in her copy whereas natalie shrugged her shoulders at you.

“people seemed to be kind of hopeful”, you stated later, as you walked natalie home, hands interlocked.

“yeah, it was weird. i thought people would be at least a little sad that he died but i guess he wasn’t too popular with anybody from the beginning. he really did deserve it”, your girlfriend said, a small smirk on her face.

a car drove past you full of football players. they stopped on the road a few feet ahead and began catcalling you.

“why don’t you two make out? let us see some girl on girl action!”, someone yelled out. the boys erupted into laughter before continuing to drive on.  

you groaned, disgusted.

natalie squeezed your hand a little tighter, a reassuring glint in her eyes. “hey, hey, it’s okay. ghostface will get them,” she whispered deviously.

you looked ahead, watching the car drive off. maybe ghostface would get them; maybe he was back for good – or at least until you’d all get caught.

[asklilmissrarity]

Progress Update on Melodi

Hello, everyone!

Happy New Year!

On December 15th 2023, I made the public announcement that Lil Miss Rarity will receive no further comic updates from me, finally confirming a common theory that I had lost the will to continue creating it. Lil Miss Rarity, just to confirm here, is now public domain and I encourage fan-blogs and will proverbially pass the torch to anyone who would like to take up the mantle.

It wasn't an easy decision to make because of how many times I'd promised I would never stop updating it, and I did in fact have future plans for it (I will be making a video on YouTube describing how I'd planned to continue the story, and how I would have ended it if I ever did).

But in its wake came Melodi, a spiritual successor to Lil Miss Rarity, and I've decided that a story-driven video game with ongoing updates would be the smartest decision, at least for the introduction to the series.

And so along came this twiggy elf. (Important note: Her booby size on her sprite is exaggerated, same as her head size. The in-game art for cutscenes will show more proper body proportions.)

Melodi is now just four directional (diagonal movement) sprite animations away from being a complete character sprite, which means creating a proof of concept will be just a matter of time.

As of today, I have completed:

The intro cutscene for the game, leading to the introduction of Melodi and her teacher, Eliah Sterium (Multiple full color images accompany that cutscene)

Seven unique songs entirely composed by myself (Literally learned how to make music a week ago just for this project)

Four directional movement sprites consisting of 6 frames of pixel animation each direction (Including separating each part to make them usable for other characters' sprites)

Four directional idle animations consisting of 6 frames of animation each direction (Again, making paperdolls to use later for other characters)

A discord server for the ongoing production of Melodi RPG where I'll be answering questions, including answering as the characters from the game similar to the LMR ask-blog

27 (just counted) preliminary sketches to flesh out character designs and have reference for myself

Eliah Sterium's design, making the ladies go gaga

Mountains of lore (a lot of which can be found in the Discord's lore channels)

Personalities for the primary cast of deadbeat magic school students

Art for the title screen

The entire storyboard for Episode 1 and Episode 2

The pricing model for the game (Episode 1 will be a free demo, and all remaining episodes will be bundled together in a $10 purchase)

The "Pet Cwow" option on the Quit Game menu and what happens when you pet him (You'll see)

The entire intro in-engine (Screencapped above with Eliah there)

Many new fans/friends who've introduced themselves in the Discord

And, I have received (on December 31st) my very first negative review of the game, which I will cherish. Someone who knew nothing other than "It's a game about an elf who goes psychotic" and saw the title art said that the game was basically doomed to fail because Melodi has large breasts, to which I replied "Imagine being this fucking butthurt over tits existing" which set him off into an obnoxious and insulting rage that ended with "Enjoy nothing but horny virgins playing your game and ignoring the dog water, generic ass story." A quote that I will never, ever, ever forget, and if I someday make a physical release of the game, I promise you, that quote will be on the back of the box.

There's even more than just all this, I've already sunk tons of hours of time and effort into the production of Melodi and I am super excited to continue.

I want to thank everyone for the support of the game so far, and I hope once people know more about the story and characters, the game sees the same kind of fandom that Lil Miss Rarity once had.

Luv you all

~Jay Tonique

[mixelation]

For the sleepover game! I’m going to be teaching English abroad later this year. Do you have any advice from your own teaching experience?

Oh, cool!

For teaching:

Students will match your energy. Try to be high-energy and excited as much as possible. Yes, even if you are teaching bored teenagers at 8 AM.

Kids are usually interested in talking to people from other countries, even if they don't like learning English. Use that. If you speak the local language, then pretend you don't (or suddenly "forget" it if you have to use it for, eg, classroom management) so they have to ask you their questions in English. Scale this to their level, obviously. I used to hold classrooms supplies hostage unless asked for them in English (prompting/helping kids who struggle, ofc).

Pay attention to what vocabulary they've already learned and use it. It's very frustrating if you learned the word trainer and your new teacher suddenly starts talking about sneakers or running shoes.

Know that weird things happen and that kids will do weird things. You will make mistakes you did not anticipate would be mistakes. That's normal. You'll learn quick. For example, you might hear a student say "but my dog is a girl dog!" and then you will suddenly unlock the ability to teleport across the room to stop her from typing "perra" into google translate.

Have fun with it! Kids respond better to fun lessons. I used to carry cards and dice around with me everywhere. If you're playing a game and tell kids you'll give 1000 points to anyone that can spell Massachusetts, their brains will kick into turbo mode and make them finally be able to spell yoghurt.

On that note, I've heard people advise bringing stickers and stamps to give out (especially ones with English words in them). The year I did this, the kids didn't really care.... except they went wild for stickers of US currency? For some reason??? If you can afford them, Gamewright has a bunch of children's card games that you can easily just slip into your bag.

Don't assume your students will have learned the same things as you in the same order. Basically, don't assume the average third grader has learned something just because you knew it in third grade.

For living abroad:

Focus on what you have, not what you don't have. You will make yourself homesick if you can't stop thinking about how you don't have access to [eg, favorite food]. Try to focus on [eg, cool new food you like].

Explore, explore, explore! Walk around your new city. Talk to locals. Ask your co-teachers for recommendations on what to do in your free time. Try new things even if they don't seem like they'd be up your alley.

Learn the local language if you don't speak it already. Learn the version locals speak. This will just make your life easier and enrich your experience. For example, I know a lot of US Americans who just refused to learn vosotros (informal plural you, basically only used in spain) when living in Spain and like.... children will literally not understand you are addressing them if you use ustedes (formal plural you in spain, used informally across latin america).

Try to make local friends. I think the best way would be to engage in hobbies, but most cities have like... language exchanges you can sign up for.

[totoanime52]

MY THOUGHTS ON THE FINALE OF MY HERO ACADEMIA (LONG, SO BE PREPARED)

So the manga has finally (unofficially) come to an end. With the release of 430's leaks we see how the young heroes have grown over eight years in a timeskip. I'll give my thoughts on the final chapter here before I give my overall thoughts on the series in another post.

First and foremost, I was actually quite happy to see that Horikoshi didn't push pairings into the mix and kept the focus on the characters doing their hero work. As I mentioned on a previous post, I don't like how frequent it is that a series makes the entire last chapter of their story basically dedicated to making sure certain pairings are canon (usually by introducing us to their kids in their own little stories) rather than devoting it to the themes or characters of the world they crafted for years. I often feel like they could have spent more time focusing on an issue or expanding characters more. An example is Naruto: I wanted the last chapter of Naruto to be about our boy's inauguration as Hokage, since that is what the series was pretty much building up to. I would have cried to see Naruto finally take up the mantle of Hokage after seeing how far he has come. Instead, we are pretty much preparing for Boruto's sequel story by being introduced to all the kids and setting up their stories (and you can't imagine my anger when I later found out Naruto canonically missed his inauguration for the sake of a damn joke). Here, we actually focus on how Midoriya is coping with being Quirkless again while still trying to encourage others to follow their own dreams, as well as how the other characters are working in this world. Seeing how Midoriya had originally taken the role of a teacher at UA in this chapter even though he did lose OFA eventually was kind of sweet, especially seeing how some students still admired him (including a now UA student Kota!!). I know that isn't where his story ends, but I'll get to that part in a bit.

We also see how Uraraka is focusing her efforts on changing Quirk counseling to focus more on helping those with different mental states rather than trying to make them conform to 'normality.' Even though I am still not happy with Toga's death, at least Uraraka is trying to make sure that at least one of the major sources of pain in Toga's life cannot harm another child like it did to her.

The fact that the ranking system is still around eight years later is maddening. When it mentioned how Dynamight yelling at a civilian for pushing a camera into his face will cause his rank to drop, I thought three things: 1. Who should give a shit about the rankings anymore?; 2. I wouldn't be happy if someone pushed a camera in my face while I'm working, especially if it involves something that requires focus and can be dangerous; 3. This is Dynamight, they should know his personailty by now so what did they expect to happen? I know Keigo is trying, but as long as that system is in place, it will still make the whole hero career in general more of a competitive popularity contest than a collaborative function.

Finally, we see how Izuku's story reaches it's end, at least on paper: All Might gives him his old hero costume case from school (with 18 right on the front) and tells him that Bakugou and the others from class A (note: it still feels weird not saying 1A anymore) have pooled money in over the past eight years to fund the creation of support items for Izuku so he can officially take up the mantle of the hero Deku again. This time, we see Bakugou hold his hand out to Izuku; turns out he really did mean it when he said he wanted them to keep competing with each other for the rest of their lives (*coughtsunderecough*). As Deku once again adorns his hero suit, he sees what looks like a ghost of Shigaraki Tomura watching him. The last panel of the manga shows the present day Class A students, now officially heroes.

I do like how Izuku remains Quirkless in the end. Despite him now having the means to pick his hero career back up, it doesn't change the fact that One For All is still gone forever. There was no miraculous reawakening of it or anything, but a work-around was found with the use of support items. Deku is now a Quirkless Hero, so perhaps this may help the rest of the 20% in the world that they can still chase their dreams. The fact that Class A dedicated eight years of funds to help Izuku keep his dream is also kind of heartwarming, especially when they were busy with their own lives and work, as well.

As for Shigaraki's ghost, I kind of have mixed feelings about that. I'm happy that Izuku still thinking about him after eight years. Maybe this is a way that Horikoshi is trying to say that his failure to save Shigaraki still haunts him and will continue to haunt him. Maybe it means that Shigaraki will keep watching Deku to see if he will be able to keep that spirit despite the failures behind him and the unknowns ahead of him (like a "Okay, Hero, let's see if you still have the ability to save others even after you couldn't save me" in that sarcastic way). I still wish there was a way that Tomura or any of the main villain trio could have been saved with how it was set up, so this little snippet of him still makes me sad to know that never happened.

Overall, the final chapter was better than I was expecting. While I still have issues with how Horikoshi chose to handle (or in the rankings case, NOT handle) some of the problems in the world of BNHA, I like how he kept the story on Izuku's dream of becoming a hero, something he was sure would never happen in the beginning and, near the end, would never happen again.

The fact that he kept their futures open to our interpretations in terms of where they will take their personal lives is quite nice to see, especially in regards to shipping. I feel like when official pairings are made, especially ones made last minute in stories like many shounen manga, most of the time it invites bragging, people putting others down, or just straight up fights in the fandom (it honestly scares me just how viscous some people can be over a fictional pairing). By keeping it open, at the very least it prevents some of the more extreme parts of the pairing fandom from claiming superiority over others. Anyway, sorry for the tangent at the end, but this is something that always irked me, especially in stories where romance wasn't a main theme.

Sidenote: seeing Eri growing up, smiling, and in a music club with her friends is the most beautiful thing. She's come so far and it's so cute how music became a passion for her after it was the catalyst for giving her back her smile.

[myz-wykkyd]

The top reference was made by myself in 2021, the bottom was made in 2019 (watermarks are my old username). The templates I used can be found here and were made by Unearthy.

Additional art from left to right, was made by Athren, CNWGraphis, kiirino, and bakawomans <3

Note: Any variation of "I don't like Endeavor, but-" is not wanted in my comments or reblogs. You aren't obligated to like the character, but I don't appreciate my art or character being used to vent your frustrations when I'm just trying to have a fun time. I WILL BLOCK YOU IF YOU DO.

Old Art I made of my BNHA / MHA OC Suisei Murasaki<3 Suisei used to be my main oc and I was once as obsessed with her as I was Rosalie. She's still very near and dear to my heart ofc and after catching up with mha I was recently reinspired to work on her again. She's got a new reference on the way but until then I thought it'd be okay to share some of my older pieces/some art I've commissioned of her over the years. BIG LORE DUMP UNDER THE CUT.

You can view her TH here for more indepth information. Not all of it is up to date. But TLDR: Suisei Murasaki, also known by her hero name Andromeda, is a Pro Hero whose flashy quirk and philanthropy helped catapult her into stardom at an early age, and eventually lead her to achieving international fame. She is best known for the fun, game-show like tv shows she frequently hosts to raise money for charities, but she also does modeling work on the side and often appears as a guest teacher at her former school in-between her hero work. She doesn't take paycuts- instead she opts to donate money she makes to families in need.

In front of her audience she is perpetually cheerful, hardworking, dramatic and even a little silly at times. But it’s an act that she has chosen to keep up to avoid burdening her friends and loved ones with of her rocky personal life after the sudden loss of her husband.

Her Quirk has been tweaked a bit since 2019 so the one listed on her old reference isn't completely accurate, but basically it allows her to take on the properties of and fly through the air like a comet- making her extremely fast and strong. I've saved a few clips over the years of what I think it'd look like, so here's an example.

She was high school sweethearts with Endeavor at U.A and they remained together for a few years after their graduation, but they broke up when his obsession with becoming the number 1 hero began to interfere with their relationship. They fall completely out of connect. Suisei moves on and she eventually meets, falls in love with, 'marries', and has a child with a man who is actually All for One in disguise- but she doesn't discover that until much later (probably sometime before the Final War). After AfO's fight with All Might, he disappears without a trace from Suisei's life, and she's left heartbroken and unable to find any answer or explanation. So is forced to assume the worst. MHA first begins, she's just returned to hero work after being an hiatus for a while. She spent that time recovering and taking care of her child.

After her return, she eventually reconnects with many old colleges- including Endeavor. She joins Hawks in lending support to him after All Might's retirement. She ofc discovers she is still attracted to him, but I imagine the two simply remain friends throughout the rest of the series duration. But I guess in my personal story, Rei and him eventually divorce and he gives his family the space from him that he thinks they need while continuing to support them anyway they can. Only then do I imagine Suisei and Endeavor's relationship is finally rekindled a few years later. In this scenario I imagine Suisei and Enji have a daughter together who eventually becomes a pro-hero named "Red Star".

[lazleylazarus]

A bunch of my monster high redesigns💀💀💀!! mostly g1-inspired

pt. 1

there were so many things I wanted to write about them but I couldn’t (im still working on it, text and pics may be edited later, there may also be mistypes)

FRANKIE!!!⚡️

even though frankie is basically the result of her father’s experiment, she doesn’t like being referred as an object and tries living her life as a normal ghoul. frankie was made to be a perfect humanoid student. though she actually isn’t perfect and constantly struggles with social adaptation issues and some of her studies (such as swimming and other disciplines that require contact with liquids), frankie also sometimes confronts other students who demonstrate their disrespect to her for being “too good” and beloved by many teachers so that she wouldn’t give others a chance to shine bright (even though that’s not 100% true). oh, and for being “just a rag doll”. however, that doesn’t stop fran from being herself. she eventually learned to ignore the bullies and even managed to become friends with a bunch of meanies thanks to her lack of social adaptation evolving into pure ghoul simplicity and kindness. as well as that, frankie sometimes shows signs of overprotection not realizing that it potentially may cause problems or may be simply annoying. loves stem subjects, handicraft, helping others sincerely and obscure media no one talks about

note: frankie herself rarely uses they/them pronouns, they’re mostly used in reports of frankenstein and his wife and official documents. frankie is ok with it unless she’s referred as “it”. that’s just how she feels

DRACULAURA!!!🦇

a little bat crybaby aristocrat who sometimes faces disrespect from others for being a human-born vampire. it’s not like a sin or something, just teens being assholes to each other. she’s mostly seen with frankie and clawdeen or clawd wolf, drac’s boyfriend. draculaura becomes very anxious when she’s not with her friends. she and clawdeen founded a club for “hermit” or “rejected” monsters (they haven’t decided on the name yet) but they were the only permanent members until they met frankie who not only became a part of the club herself but also helped to bring new monsters and even friends, which is quite ironic. draculaura is a vegetarian and her current eating habits presumably developed from the illness which almost killed her before turning into a vampire. well, more like they were caused not by the illness itself but by the cause of this disease. kinda theatre kid. loves romantic stuff, gothic lolita fashion, sweets and writing her own novels which she rarely shows to others

note: later I remembered vampires don’t tolerate crosses but I really love it how they turned out so maybe there would be unholy unconsecrated crosses which do not affect them?? they’re not demonic, they just can be used as accessories by vampires. yeah that’s it. im yet to figure it all out

CLAWDEEN!!!🌖

a sassy werewolf who appreciates fashion, art and also designs her own clothes. clawdeen is a fashionista who dreams of becoming a popular model and designer. but she’s not a typical high school hyperfeminine diva girl, she really loves sports and she may act like a tomboy. clawdeen’s biggest flaw that makes her different from other werewolves is her inability to fully transform into a wolf at her age which is seen as some kind of rare disability. clawdeen doesn’t like talking about it and rarely hangs out with other werewolves except her siblings. as an extremely loyal ghoul, she also seems to have some traumatic experience in romance. that may explain why she tends to avoid romantic interactions and looks seemingly anxious when she witnesses them or when someone flirts with her. clawdeen is secretly envy for some of her friends and elder brother being happy in relationships but she can’t do anything about it. who knows, maybe she’ll find her happiness one someday. loves fashion, art, grunge music and true crime documentaries