#borderline gross choice though

[darrengrave]

I actually really like James's new voice actor

I DESPISE Angela's though

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Question...? Act II - “Good girl, sad boy, big city, wrong choices…”

Pairing - Steve Rogers x Reader Summary - After years of back and forth, years of unknowns, a lifetime of questions, it's time for answers.

Question...? Mini Series List | Steve Rogers Masterlist

15 Years Earlier... 

You pick at the grass in front of you, plucking each blade with the utmost precision. “Can I ask you a question?”

Steve watches on as you pick at the grass, content to watch you in the warm glow of the sunset, “Yeah.”

You can’t bring yourself to look at him as the question leaves your mouth in a timid tone you’ve never taken with Steve. “Have you had your first kiss yet?”

A fierce blush paints Steve’s face. It's his turn to stare at the grass. He rakes his fingers through the blades of grass, refusing to look you in the eye. “No… have you?”

You shake your head, finally finding the courage to sneak a glance at him. You pluck blade of grass after blade of grass leaving a small bald spot in Steve’s backyard. “No.”

He clears his throat. “Why?”

“Bucky said he had his first kiss.”

Steve snorts, rolling his eyes, “I know. He won’t shut up about it.” 

“I guess I didn’t know that guys stopped thinking girls were gross,” you lightly joke, finally able to look up from the grass and up at your best friend. “When did that happen?”

He stares at you as the question falls from your lips. You look at him and see the same bright blue eyes you’ve seen every day since your family moved into the house beside his. 

Your best friend. The boy you’d known since your world was one block wide. Those same eyes, and yet, it felt different.

You'd heard the warning dozens of times. From your parents. From your teachers. You and Steve were at an age where things started to change. From one day to the next, the girls in your class went from talking about how they hated boys to hushed whispers about who was going to take them to the next school dance.

Your mom somewhat unsubtly hinted that you and Steve might someday be more than just friends. You were so throughly warned, and yet you'd never felt more throughly blindsided. Feelings flooded the pit of your stomach without a warning. The boy you'd known since you were five, he suddenly seemed... different.

It was the sort of different that you didn't have the words for. All you had to go off of was the fluttering sensation in the pit of your stomach that erupted whenever he smiled at you. 

“I didn’t think you were gross,” Steve offers. 

“Only because we were the only kids on our street,” you retort. “You’d have been all alone without me.” 

It was true. Both Steve's and your mom had no qualms about forcing you to play together in your backyards. As an only child, your mom constantly worried about you not being around kids your own age. And with the way Steve was picked on as the neighborhood playground, his mom was certain he was destined for a lonely childhood. Until you came along. 

“I would’ve had Bucky,” Steve counters.  

“Bucky lives on a different street. You didn't meet him until school.” 

“I’m not worried about getting my first kiss.” 

Your gaze snaps back to him, brows furrowed as you try to figure out who Steve had planned for his first kiss. “Really? Why?”

“Are you kidding?” Steve bitterly chuckles. Though you didn't see it, you knew what he was talking about. You heard it in the mean, borderline cruel, verbal jabs some of the other kids at school liked to hurl at Steve. Even now, he was small, more frail than most, if not all, of the boys in your class. He still struggled with his asthma. He was shy and a little dorky. You knew what people thought about him. But he was, and you were sure always would be, your best friend, your Steve. He rolls his eyes at you like all of those perceived flaws should be as obvious to you as they are to him. “Have you looked at me? I’ll be lucky if I get kissed before I graduate high school.”

“I’d kiss you.” 

Steve’s eyes widen, blown so far out of proportion that it looks almost cartoonish. You'd probably find the look on his face funny if you weren't so thoroughly mortified. “What?”

“I’m not - I mean - I’m just saying, if we get to our high school graduation and you haven’t been kissed, I’d kiss you.” 

He groans, tossing his head back, “Great, I’ll have to wait another five years for a pity kiss.” 

“It’s not a pity kiss if I want to kiss you.” 

His eyebrows pull in as his brain works overtime trying to piece together exactly what you're telling him. “So you want to kiss me?”

“Do you want to kiss me?” you challenge. 

“I asked you first.” 

You shrug your shoulders, trying to seem as casual as your racing heart will allow you to, “Like I said, I’d kiss you.” 

“I’d kiss you too.”

“Steve?” 

“Yeah?” 

You don’t allow yourself to think about what you’re doing. You lean forward as far as you can with your crossed legs. He gasps as your lips gently graze his. The soft breath dances across your lips. 

Just as you’re about to pull away, he closes the rest of the gap, firmly molding his lips to yours. Once. Twice. His hand slowly slides closer to yours. He fumbles forward, resting his hand on yours.

He gulps, wheezing slightly as he pulls away, “That - that was nice.” 

The sound of blood rushing roars in your ears. All you can bring yourself to focus on is the intense flush of his cheeks. And ‘nice’. You’re not sure you’ll ever un-hear how the word fell from his lips. 

Nice. 

Nice. 

Nice?

“Nice?”

“Yeah, it - it was nice.” 

In that moment, it occurs to him that there were probably a million and one better things to say, a million and one better words to describe a kiss other than ‘nice’. 

Your face warms as you feel embarrassment floods your system. “I should go. My mom's probably waiting for me.” 

He doesn't get a word out before you stand up and run out of his backyard. 

Your face flames as you run the dozen or so yards back to your front yard. You burst through the front door as quickly as you can. You don't waste a single moment as you race up the stairs and to your room, praying your parents didn't bear witness to your storm of emotions. 

You slump down on the edge of your bed. Your mind races. He said it was nice.

Nice wasn't bad, but you were sure it wasn't good either.

You would normally go to Steve about this kind of thing, but that was clearly out of the question.

You definitely couldn't tell Bucky about this.

You don’t know what any of it meant - if it even meant anything. 

And you certainly didn’t know that this would be the moment everything had changed.

Question...? Mini Series List Inspired By Taylor Swift Steve Rogers Masterlist

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez @ludicbouquetfromearth @matchat3a @famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff @valoraxx @blue786sworld @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @geminigengar @ansaturn @ecolle @lexhalstead3 @ybflkmj @mediocre-daydreams@shanye1112 @thegirlnextdoorssister @toomanyfanficsbruh @moonlightreader649 @breathtaking-cynthia @mirikusashes @beans-and-toast @niyahcoca @katiechikin @elxvrr @antiheroxsblog @infamouslyclumsy @krissydclayton93 @buckysbarne @deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic @whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy @matchat3a @weallhaveadestiny @mostlymarvelgirl @honeydew3064 @michealharrypotter @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @withyoutilltheendoftheline @the-photo-hoe @rae-nna @sarachabeans1@double-shot-of-tequila @spookyparadisesheep @lunaalovesyouu @daisy-loves-bucky@roseproseposts @theoraekenslover@king814318 @maybesomedaytho @carlie-babes99 @sunshinechikin @as-white-as-snow-love @melala1030 @badasswlthafatass @armystay89 @multiversefanfics @cherrysscinema @breathlesspieceofdeath @ravenn-darkholme @bxckybxrnes24 @guiltyasreid @bellabarnes1378 @blithecapricorn @mrsnikstan

[zith-ipeth]

//TW I'M GONNA TALK ABOUT WEIGHT AND FOOD// What does it take? / Three years ago, today

I hate the front pages of social media

every other post is someone running away from a body I want, I see my before in their after and my after in their before. I see a girl in the mirror eating half a meal a day because "maybe I have a figure somewhere under all this skin and muscle and fat" I see a girl in my room, by my bed, by my mirror, looking at herself and saying

"I'm lucky to have a body like this, cis girls want this, I should want this"

I want to be fat... fuck that sounds stupid. would it sound stupid if someone a bit above my size said they wanted to be skinny? No you would say "Great good job get it girl" or whatever. but why is what I want not normal not healthy not ok. is it not ok because I'm at a "healthy weight"? while what if I was at that same healthy weight and said I wanted to be, say, 130 pounds. that would be an admirable, amazing, great goal. but saying that I want to be around 190 pounds, that's...

weird

maybe it's a fetish?

but you're healthy now dear...

I use to not be healthy though

I was a girl in a mirror, half a skeleton, I'm already getting into numbers so why stop now, I was 107 and 5'10. 15.4 bmi. I was...

such a pretty girl

wow you have such a shape

kinda lean muscle...

I didn't have any of that I had a BORDERLINE EATING DISORDER.

after a lot of mental work, I decided to gain weight, I started estrogen and started eating when I was hungry until I was full. I started gaining weight and at first that was scary, stretch marks were scary, and growing out of clothes was scary, I knew I wanted a type of body in the end but the between was strange and treacherous. but somebody loved my body enough for both me, and them, and eventually, after a year or two, I learned to love it.

I gained around 60 pounds, my body's mad at me still, my stretch marks are red and sensitive to the touch. but here I am, at what is medically considered a healthy weight and...

I want to gain a little more.

I've loved my body more and more the more weight I gained, so why is it that I should just stop at an arbitrary number made up by a FUCKING ASTRONOMER AND STATISTICIAN. I love having a tummy that rolls because I never used to have that, I love my thighs touching because they used to just be skin and bone, I love the hanging fat on my arms because its something magical and new and beautiful. I love how I look nude, I love my body unbound and without its drapes and wrappings, its so pretty and fun.

Now I get it, I'm not exactly facing oppression, (NOT SAYING FATPHOBIA ISN'T OPPRESSIVE, more that, I don't experience fatphobia,) I'm straight-sized as they come, but even then, I still feel weird when I wear crop tops sometimes, I still get comments when I eat a full plate of food, I still get comments when I go for seconds and I SOMEHOW EVEN AS SMALL AS I AM SOCIETY SEEMS TO SMALL FOR ME.

So I guess that's it, I want to be fat because I view that body type positively, it's not fetishistic it's not a kink it's just a goal, like losing weight. I want to be fat because the way my body would feel, the way I would move, would dress, would live, would be better for me

I think.

And like fuck it if im wrong whatever, my body is as moldable as it will ever be, I can just go back to where I am now.

But I dont think I want to

I hate to watch people run away from what I run towards, as if its scary, as if it's gross. Equally, I find it painful to watch people run toward what I ran away from as if it's innately more beautiful, more divine

Youre beautiful, and if you want to change yourself that's beautiful too, but sometimes I feel bad for flinching over peoples individual changes and choices. its just painful to watch sometimes, I guess. Painful to look at someone and see a mirror image of how you thought, and who you were

three years ago,

today

[the-mic-drop]

Building Link in BG3- Fighter

Now it's time for the Hero of Hyrule himself. Same as Zelda, there are two builds I have in mind that are similarly appropriate for him, but I'll start with the simpler one. His Ranger build will be next.

The Hylian Champion

This is the Link we tend to see in cutscenes, or more specifically, memories. This was Link when he was Zelda's silent sentinel before the Calamity. A man with a mission and his mouth shut tight with the weight of the world.

Background

Race: Half Elf (Wood Half Elf)

Background: Soldier

Now I'm making Link a Half Elf instead of a full Elf because that's how I see the isekai magic transferring them. Zelda is of royal and holy lineage and is very magically inclined whereas Link is just some guy relatively speaking. Plus with how often Link is depicted as a boy of the forest, so wood elf makes more sense. As for the Soldier background, this is Link in knight mode; a peerless warrior.

Abilities

Strength: 17 (+3)

Dexterity: 16 (+3)

Constitution: 13 (+1)

Intelligence: 10 (0)

Wisdom: 10 (0)

Charisma: (-1)

Str and Dex are self-explanatory, I feel. Constitution is a bit lower because in-game much of Link's durability comes from the armor he's wearing. Having a max health pool doesn't mean much when you're going commando. But even so, he's plenty tough, so he gets a boost there. I evened out his Int and Wis because this Link isn't quite the wild child serial arsonist we play as. This Link is more composed and thoughtful, though his willful mutism causes his Cha to suffer.

Class & Levels

Class: Fighter

Fighting Style: Archery

Proficiencies: Animal Handling, Perception/Acrobatics

We choose archery not because this build is a ranged build, but because only one other style fits Link as well and we'll be able to choose it later. Make no mistake, this Link is a scrapper and will likely be leading the charge in most combat situations. For the proficiencies, Animal Handling is a natural choice from that one memory, and I think Perception and Acrobatics are equally valid choices so just go with your gut on that one.

Level 3

Subclass: Champion

Though Battle Master is most people's go-to when it comes to Fighters, Champion is perfect for Link for one reason: simplicity. While he is known as a master swordsman (no pun intended,) the combat gameplay of BotW and TotK is so good because of how simple it is, among other things. Champion reflects that to a tee.

Level 4

Feat: Shield Master

This incarnation of Link is arguably more creative and innovative with his shield than any other. Plus, you can parry pretty much anything with your shield so this is a reasonable first feat. Also, the reason why we're not going with Ability Improvement is that Strength (a Fighter's main stat) is the only one you can get to 20 without using a Feat. First, use Auntie Ethel's boon in Act 1 to get a +1, then get Astarion to drink Araj Oblodra's blood in Act 2 to get the remaining +2. I know making Astarion drink the gross blood is typically a renegade move, but I think a blank stare from this consummate professional Link would deliver the Zelda-style humor that is appropriate for the situation.

Level 6

Feat: Polearm Master

I know I just said Link is a sword-and-shield man, but Link isn't limited in his arsenal. We know he learned spearplay from the Zora, so this is more than appropriate.

Level 8

Feat: Great Weapon Master

If you want to take this one before Polearm Master, I can't really blame you since it's more useful. I just chose that first because it makes more sense for Link to know spearplay over big weapons. Though Great Weapon Master really is the more useful feat, since Champions crit more easily. Plus with how borderline clumsy Link is with two-handed weapons in BotW, the bonus damage with lower accuracy toggleable effect is also pretty appropriate.

Level 10

Fighting Style: Defense

Link has more armor choices in BotW than just about any other game in the franchise and this style will help embody that in his Faerun adventures.

Level 12

Feat: Durable

The +1 Con is helpful, but that's not the real beauty of this choice. You also regain full HP on every short rest, similar to how you can sleep for all of 10 minutes in BotW and regain all your hearts.

This Link isn't as monstrous as he is in Hyrule, but he's still an absolute menace. A master of melee weapons, a more than capable sniper, and able to give as good as he gets. As long as it's not a battle of wits, this Link is a safe bet to win any battle.

[inkher0]

I finished reading the new chapter yesterday and I really love it! I love the way you decided to approach the story, making each point or scene interesting and brilliant. I also adore how you had built the characters, especially by making their complex concerns and problems well explained, like in the part where Kate discusses the goodness in a person.

I liked writing that conversation. It was difficult for me, because I very firmly believe you shouldn't kill someone unless you absolutely have to, and from an "outsiders" perspective, Kate is kind of choosing to kill. She'd probably rather be doing something else, but nobody forces her to do the horrible things she does. I wouldn't even call Clara's advice "good", for that exact reason. Clara did however help her finally take a stance though, which was the main point. Kate lives in a world that is borderline primitive in how it interacts with itself. If you're not ready to kill, you will die. It ties into her association with wolves and birds- despite all their reality-hopping and fantastical elements, she's still under Natural Law. She has the choice, so she should stand on it.

It comes from my own thoughts about fascists and predators. Really, what would I do if I had the power and immunity to just kill those kind of people? Would that really make anything better, or would that just end up destroying me? And where would the line be? Are people allowed to be a certain level of gross and creepy before they deserve death? What if they really did just need guidance and support, and hadn't done anything violent? But then again, should we wait for people to be violent before we decide to do anything about them?

It's uh. Been on my mind a lot. For No Reason

[doki-doki-lesbians-club]

as someone who’s entire poetry style is based on a mix of natsuki and yuri’s, PLEASE ANALYZE THE POEMS TOO! ANALYZE THE HELL OUT OF EVERYTHING!!

You had me at “poetry” 😊

Okay, everyone! In this post, we’ll be analyzing Natsuki’s poetry in Doki Doki Literature Club! because she’s gay and i can prove it dammit

Well only be going over the poems that have a profound affect on reading her character, namely “Amy Likes Spiders” and “I’ll Be Your Beach”, and maybe touching on “The Best Place in the World” if I feel like it by the end of the post.

(Links to read the poems for yourself!)

｢Amy Likes Spiders｣

Let’s talk spiders… er, poetry! So to summarize, we are introduced to a hypothetical character named Amy, who likes spiders. We are shown that she is a normal person with a normal life, except the narrator of the poem refuses to be friends with her because she likes spiders. Simple, right? Spiders are gross!

Well, not that simple. The climax of the piece is a stanza towards the end that reads: “It doesn’t matter if she has other hobbies. It doesn’t matter if she keeps it private. It doesn’t matter if it doesn’t hurt anyone.”

Oof, yikes, kinda harsh, don’t you think? It keeps going.

“It’s gross. She’s gross. The world is better off without spider lovers.

And I’m gonna tell everyone.”

Woahhh okay, took a bit of an intense turn from enjoying arachnids, huh?

This should be the first clue that the true meaning of the poem isn’t surface-level. Lines that seem intensely out of place or out of character are most likely intended to point you to a deeper content, such as I believe is happening here.

The entire poem, Natsuki has shown us in detail Amy, her life, and how this narrator treats her in response to her “liking spiders”. The narrator refuses to enjoy Amy’s singing, won’t let Amy touch her to help her when she’s hurt, and even fears that Amy might cause her friends to start liking spiders too.

So, what’s going on here? Why such a strong reaction to Amy’s interests? Well, this becomes more clear when reading with a queer lens.

Go through the entire poem (or at least the key parts) and replace “spiders” with “girls”. You get such lines as: “I tried not to let her touch me. She likes girls, so her hands are probably gross.”

“I always see her talking to people. She probably talks about girls. What if her friends start to like girls too?”

“It’s gross. She’s gross. The world is better off without girl lovers.”

Reads totally different, right? But it also makes a little more sense, doesn’t it?

In this context, Amy is a lesbian. Someone (the narrator) found out, and is being entirely homophobic about it, even if it doesn’t affect them at all. This makes the end of the poem more ominous and borderline horrifying.

“The world is better off without spider lovers.

And I’m gonna tell everyone.”

This can also be used to support a trans reading of Natsuki, as all of these same things can be applied to being transgender (though maybe in a more distantly metaphorical way than the easy spiders/girls swap).

Stylistically, it’s a very simple rhythm, no rhyme, with the repeating line “That’s why I’m not friends with her.” This simple repetition of pattern and phrase makes the changeup with “It doesn’t matter if…” all the more prominent, because it breaks that pattern.

｢I’ll Be Your Beach｣

Ahh the beach. Not my vacation of choice, but many find it refreshing, rejuvenating, and relaxing. That’s certainly what Natsuki seemed to have in mind for her poem she wrote from the one word prompt “beach”.

This piece is longer, though still keeps Natsuki’s tried-and-true simple format, four-line stanzas, and repetition not too dissimilar to common music patterns. The scene is of two people walking along a beach, basking in the warm sunlight, and letting the seawater wash their worries away. Natsuki can even be seen fantasizing about a kiss between these two~!

Though I don’t believe Natsuki to be the first person narrator of “Amy Likes Spiders”, I do think she is the narrator of this poem, as she then assumes the role of one of the two on the beach. Which means Natsuki is actually writing about her kissing this person! How intriguing~

Now, we are lead to believe in DDLC that the romantic poems written by Yuri and Natsuki are directed at the MC. However, that would be an odd assumption for this poem, given some of the things Natsuki mentions…

“Your mind is so full of troubles and fears” “The walls in your mind will melt away” “Let’s bury your heavy thoughts in the sand” “Wash your insecurities in the salty sea” “You’ll learn to love yourself again.”

By show of hands, how many of you lovely readers thought about MC when you read those lines? I hope none of you, because he doesn’t express these sentiments at all, let alone to Natsuki.

But how many of you maybe thought about Yuri? Or even Sayori? Ahh, a different story.

Natsuki is clearly imagining a time where she can comfort this person and remind them of “the reasons [they’re] wonderful” and even kiss them. This person clearly means a lot to Natsuki, and seeing them happier is obviously a goal. Now who does Natsuki say this is about explicitly…

Oh, of course, Yuri.

In Act 2, Natsuki gives MC a note that mentions she always wanted to be better friends with Yuri, and is concerned for her wellbeing (as we all were in Act 2). This seems to be a similar theme to the therapeutic scene in “I’ll Be Your Beach”, not to mention that the “beach” prompt was an assignment with Yuri! They were supposed to write from the same prompt, and Natsuki wrote this while Yuri wrote her poem, “Beach”. Wouldn’t it make sense that Natsuki might write some of these feelings she has for/about Yuri in a poem that was surely going to be read to her?

In conclusion, Natsuki’s simplistic style is excellent at throwing in emotional and/or sudden endings that really provoke thought about the poem itself, and its deeper meaning. This also allows for some thicker metaphors, since everything is encouraged to be taken at face value. I hope my breakdowns here have shown you just a little bit of a queer reading of Natsuki’s character through poetry! (Not to mention everything she does and says!)

I might add “The Best Place in the World” as a reblog later, Tumblr mobile is fucking with my formatting ahaha! Thanks for the ask~! I might do this for some of the other poems too if people are interested!

[senjuushi]

So reader has called in Kirsch, F, Like2, & Herme into their office for a status report after a particularly tough but well-finished mission, and they temporarily tell the boys to wait for them while they go grab their drink that they left another room. The instant Reader leaves, the boys go into heat

When reader comes back and sees them all whiny and aroused and just scared over whether or not they’ll be cruel, reader picks up the boys (/ tugs a pliant Herme), turns them over on their stomachs onto readers desk, pulls down the boys pants, and proceeds to eat them out till they’re hands are damn near breaking the wooden desk they’ve got clutched beneath them

Kirsch

He'd tried to time it like this, actually. Knowing his Heat was on the way, he made sure he'd be the one to give you the report just so you'd catch him while he's vulnerable and needy. However, Kirsch was expecting to be roughly fucked (as he's used to), not bent over and spoiled regardless of how messy he still is from the mission. He wants to enjoy the attention while it lasts, but he can't stop thinking about how this isn't right. You should be taking your pleasure from him, not giving him the same so willingly.

F

Why did it have to happen now? The mission was exhausting enough, and after spending the day aching and uncomfortable from pre-Heat symptoms, F just wanted a chance to rest before the usual use would begin. He has no choice but to willingly present himself, though... only to find himself with you sweetly eating him out instead of fucking him raw and bloody. It's a total shock to his system, which only makes him all the more desperate as it sinks in that he might get some kind of relief, for once.

Like2

Considering how awful he felt while on the mission, Like2 had a feeling this was coming. He's irritated that his body couldn't hold out until he at least had a chance to clean up, and terribly embarrassed when you decide to eat him out while he's still all gross and sweaty. Still, having some relief from the lingering pain and discomfort wins out over his hesitancy, and he's spreading his legs for you in no time. There's no way he can resist a chance to be spoiled by you, even when he's still a little self-conscious.

Herme

By the time his Heat is kicking in, Herme is as vacant and pliant as it gets. He's borderline unresponsive by the time you drag him over to your desk, just silently allowing you to move him as you please. He's a lot less quiet once you're eating him out, though, too disoriented and desperate to have any kind of filter left. Still absolutely limp, he just lies there, cheek pressed to the desk, slack-jawed, moaning openly while you lick into him until his legs are shaking. There's not a thought in his head but wanting more.

[nightwings-circus]

spoilers for joker 2: a rant from a Harley Quinn lover

I know I haven’t been back in forever but what better way to come back then with a little joker 2 rant lmao specifically about Harley Quinn

I haven’t seen joker two so I may be wrong but going off what I heard:

can we talk about how weird it was of a male director to take a female character who has been a victim of ab*se for basically her entire existence and turn her into a liar and manipulative aggressor???? Like ????

I totally understand the whole “it’s not actually the DC version of them” (though I think that is the weakest argument from fans and directors) but Taking parts of Harley’s original stories (her parents, the baby she has with joker) and twisting them into lies and manipulation just feels wrong to me. especially since Harley’s ab*se by joker has been so glamorized and romanticized by so many people. I feel personally like it’s kind of gross to take a women who has been beaten and borderline killed by this man, and make her his manipulator. You take a women who was insanely smart and respected that was manipulated, pushed into acid and driven to insanity, and make her commit herself for a man she’s never met. You take a women who literally hid her child from this man to protect her daughter from him, who hid a pregnancy and literally STOPPED FIGHTING SOMEONE because she found out they were expecting, and make her fake a pregnancy to manipulate a man into killing people. Taking a character who over and over again has been victimized by this man, and only now has gotten media exposure that wasn’t just “jokers girlfriend and punching bag” and turning her into his ab*ser is….. a fucking choice to say the least.

there are 50 different ways they could have made a similar point to what they claim they were trying to make, and not absolutely shit on and demolish Harley’s entire character like that. taking ab*sed women and making them the ab*ser to make the violent man from the first movie not “technically” the villain is…. Say it with me! Kinda fucking weird! Especially when I now see incels using the court testimony lady (I forget her name I’m so sorry) and Harley as excuses for Arthur’s behaviour!!!!

any friendly discussion is super welcome!!! I wanna hear others thoughts, this was just my takeaway as someone who sympathizes very heavily with Harley’s original character.

[monthofsick]

An unwanted Gift

Nov(emeto)ber 2022, Day 28: The token made a mess prompt

OCs: Isaiah, Luka

Not gonna lie, making a huge mess is one of my favorite tropes ever. Especially in a public setting! It's just straightforward gross goodness, even though poor Isaiah might disagree. I had lots of fun writing and it even fit the season.

TW: Vomit, illness

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

Like every year, once fall had begun, the days until Christmas flew by in a timelapse. To avoid getting caught up in last-minute stress, Luka and Isaiah had decided to buy their presents early. They had planned a trip to a large shopping mall for maximum choice in a compact area. Conveniently, there was a direct bus stopping right in front of the mall. It was barely a 30 minutes trip.

Everything was fine when they met at the station close to their college. Isaiah was a bit tired, even more so than usual. Not a big obstacle to overcome if he could enjoy the rest of the holiday season without any hassle. The bus was surprisingly crowded for the time of day – other people probably had the exact same idea. Isaiah and Luka sat down at the two free middle seats in the back row for a bit of Christmas gift brainstorming.

About ten minutes later, Isaiah began to feel unwell. The burrito he had eaten for lunch weighed down his stomach like he had swallowed it whole. It triggered an instant anxiety that only added to the persistent queasiness. Isaiah had been carsick before and the driver wasn't necessarily gentle with his maneuvers. When Isaiah had covered the inside of Tiago's mother's car with his puke, it hadn't only been induced by his alcohol intake, but just as much by the winding mountain road. At least it was a much shorter ride today.

"So I found this awesome recipe for spiked mulled wine that we absolutely have to try, I'm getting winter bonfire Christmas S'mores party vibes, are you with me?" Luka's eyes were beaming, cheeks flushed. He was already in full blown festive mood and Isaiah would have loved to join in. He was a winter's child, way more comfortable in the cold than in summer heat. Snow was probably his favorite thing ever. If only it hadn't been for the brick in Isaiah's belly that demanded all of his attention.

"Oh… yeah… sounds great." It was a lame response, and Luka noticed. He gave Isaiah a slap on the back of his head.

"Don't tell me Mr. Freeze is turning into a Scrooge."

"Sure, I'm thinking tropical vacation this year." Isaiah rolled his eyes and instantly regretted it as a wave of vertigo washed over him. He should have probably looked out of the window, but there was a woman in the seat next to him. Staring rigidly in her direction would have been highly uncomfortable and borderline creepy. "It's just… I'm not sure about Tiago's present. He's still mad at me and I want to make things right without looking like a suck-up."

"I get it, man." Luka sighed and placed his hand on Isaiah's shoulder. "The guy needs to calm the fuck down, it's not like you barfed on purpose. Don't worry too much, he'll be fine once his mom allows him to borrow the car again."

"I hope so." Isaiah already regretted bringing back the vivid memory of being violently sick in a moving vehicle, even though it had successfully diverted Luka from his current issue. He was painfully aware of how full he was. The amount of food filling up his stomach, sloshing around in the gingerbread milkshake he had indulged in for dessert, added another dimension of threat to the unpleasant situation. If he couldn't hold it down, there was a lot that would come up. And this time, he wasn't in a car with his friends, but in a public bus full of strangers.

With a deep breath, Isaiah put a hand on his stomach. A subdued, but constant pain lingered in the back of his head. Had the driver turned up the heating system or was it just him breaking out in a sweat? The air was stuffy, almost viscous as it filled his lungs. Isaiah felt it gliding along his uvula. A sudden retch burst out of him and he tried to disguise it as a muted cough.

"You're not getting a cold, are you?" Of course, Luka had realized something was wrong – no surprise when he was sitting right next to Isaiah. The redhead looked up to check what station they approached. It was about ten minutes until they would arrive at their destination. Isaiah really didn't want to get off the bus and wait half an hour for the next one. It wouldn't make much of a difference anyways, he still had to sit through the rest of the ride either way.

"The air's just dry because of the heater", Isaiah tried to talk his way out once again. Actually, his mouth was anything but dry. There seemed to be a special offer on saliva today. With a straight face, Isaiah kept on swallowing and swallowing. His chest hitched with a burp, which earned him a disapproving glance from the woman at the window. "Sorry. Must be the beans."

"Would have been worse if it came out the other end." Luka grinned. There was no way he would miss the opportunity for a fart joke.

"I'm saving that for the way back", Isaiah declared with a strained smile. He felt sick to his stomach. The abdominal muscles under his hand clenched tightly, pushing up a sour liquid with the vague taste of cumin. Isaiah's eyes widened for a moment, then he pressed them shut and forced himself to swallow the vomit back down. Maybe getting out wasn't such a bad idea after all, but the next stop was nowhere in sight.

Lips pinched tightly, breathing in through the nose, Isaiah tried to stop his digestive system from shifting into reverse gear. It was hard to fight an automated process, especially when the entire muscles of his upper body worked together, contracting harshly to pump out his stomach. The rush of panic as the redhead understood that he was about to lose control poured an entire gasoline canister into the flames of his nausea. He would hurl in front of everyone in the bus and there was nothing he could do about it.

Or maybe there was. Unexpectedly, the vehicle came to a halt. Had they reached a station? No one got up and the doors didn't open, so it was probably just a red light. At least they didn't move anymore. Isaiah found new hope that the break would grant him enough recovery time to make it to the next stop without tossing his lunch. He didn't dare to part his lips, but he inhaled deeper and slower through his nostrils. It would be alright. He could do this.

Then the lights turned green and the bus accelerated with a sudden jerk.

The abrupt jolt hit Isaiah like a fist in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't even groan before a surge of thick liquid shot up his throat. His hands flew up to his lips just in time before his cheeks puffed out. Swallowing wasn't an option, the vomit had already flooded his mouth entirely.

"Isa?" Luka's voice, distorted by a static in Isaiah's ears. "Are you going to be sick?"

Isaiah couldn't answer. He desperately tried to hold it in, but more and more custardy fluid kept on coming up until finally, the seal burst. Creamy, light beige puke filled up the cup his hands formed in front of his mouth. It spilled over on top and splashed on Isaiah's lap. The woman sitting next to him screamed and recoiled in horror.

At this point, everything added to Isaiah's nausea. The movement of the bus. The warm throw-up covering his palms and seeping into his pants. The sour stench of rancid butter. Helplessly, Isaiah lurched forward and projectile vomited all over the floor. More people let out sounds of shock and disgust, some backed away to get out of the splash zone.

With eyes staring at him from every direction, Isaiah was shaken by a violent retch. Unable to control himself, the redhead noisily gargled up another fountain of puke. Grainy soup with lumps of beef, rice, black beans and whole kernels of corn cascaded from his mouth onto his legs, the ground and some of the adjacent seats. The spicy salad burned even more than on its way down, probably because of the gastric acid that accompanied it.

"There's some kid throwing up like crazy back here!", a man screamed through the entire bus, just in case anyone hadn't noticed yet.

"I know!", the driver yelled back. "Everyone's gonna get out at the next station, you can use your ticket at the replacement bus."

Part of the revulsion directed at Isaiah turned into annoyance. He trembled all over his body while his muscles wouldn't stop spasming rhythmically. A long, sickly belch bubbled up from his stomach, soon turning into a wretched gag.

"Mom, it stinks!", a little girl complained. "It makes me sick!"

"Pinch your nose, sweetheart", the mother tried to calm her, unable to hide her own nerves. "We can leave in a second."

"Drunk by lunchtime, that's why our country's in such a bad state", an elder man grumbled.

"Can you guys calm down for a second?" Luka put his arm around Isaiah's shoulders. "He's not drunk, he's sick, so leave him alone!"

"Yeah, some people should maybe stay away from public transport if they can't keep their food down", the woman next to Isaiah huffed snidely. She was pressed against the window to keep as much distance as possible in the confined space. The overwhelming feeling of shame wrung out Isaiah's stomach like a wet towel. A chunky mush was squeezed up his esophagus and plopped into the congealed puddle on his knees. Worst thing was, it didn't happen quietly – every bout of vomiting forced loud retches and sickening gurgles out of him.

Isaiah wasn't done spewing the vile mixture of minced burrito and milkshake as the bus finally came to a halt. Luka, who obviously had enough of the public humiliation, put both arms around Isaiah's upper body and dragged the puking redhead towards the door. With his mouth gaping wide open, Isaiah expelled a trail of vomit the entire way. He almost slipped in the barf he had projectiled over a remarkable area earlier. The sudden movement sparked another burst of nausea. Isaiah doubled over and hurled up a massive gush of bile and undigested food all over his shoes.

"Hang in there, Isa, we're almost in the clear", Luka encouraged Isaiah while he guided him out of the bus. To make things even worse, Isaiah's eyes were overflowing with tears. He felt horribly sick and embarrassed. He was covered in his own puke that stuck to his skin and drenched his clothes. And they were stranded in the outskirts of the city. There was no way a filthy, reeking mess like him could enter another bus – especially when he still hadn't finished throwing up.

Luka led his friend a few steps away from the station and the people that streamed out of the soiled vehicle. Supporting Isaiah with a hand on his chest, Luka bent him over even more.

"Don't worry about these assholes, just get it all out", he calmed Isaiah with a surprisingly gentle voice. Luka's hand firmly rubbed Isaiah's back as the redhead emptied himself on the lawn next to the sidewalk. "Yeah, that's it. You're gonna feel so much better once you puked it all up."

"Does he need a doctor?", the driver's voice reached Isaiah's ears through a rustling white noise. He stared at the off-white splatters below him, the bits of ground beef and corn and legumes. Gagging weakly, he added another mouthful of sick to the fetid mess. It wasn't much that came out of him, he had probably spewed most of his stomach contents inside of the bus.

"Thanks, I'll take care of him", Luka declined. He tried so hard to sound calm and collected that his suppressed anger was almost tangible. Isaiah choked up whatever was left inside of him, his tears dripping into the splashes of his upchucked meal. Even when he couldn't bring up anything more, he didn't dare to straighten himself again. The thought of facing the people who had witnessed one of the most mortifying moments of his life was too much for him. It was Luka who eventually grabbed him by the shoulders and raised him up. "Feeling any better?"

Isaiah shook his head, avoiding Luka's gaze. Luka pulled a crumpled package of paper tissues out of his bag and began to wipe Isaiah's lips and chin. Before he was done, he suddenly paused and put his hand on Isaiah's forehead.

"Okay, I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to feel that warm." He brushed back Isaiah's hair, then moved on with the cleaning process. "I knew there was something wrong with you. Didn't you notice you were about to explode with puke?"

"I – I thought I was sweaty because I felt nauseous." Isaiah's own voice sounded strange to him, shaky and husky. "Thought is was carsickness or something."

"It might have still been a good idea to tell me, you know? We could have left before you blew chunks all over the place."

"I know." Desperately trying not to break into a sob, Isaiah wiped his eyes before the tears could spill over again. "It's just… I mean… we were so close and… and… I don't know, you guys already joke about my weak stomach all the time. Now I didn't just ruin Tiago's car, but an entire bus."

"Stop it", Luka scolded him. He threw the dirty tissue on top of an already dangerously full trash bin next to them, then put both hands on Isaiah's shoulders. "You're sick. You're probably running a fever. I can tell that this feels like the end of the world to you, but it's not. You'll never see any of those dickheads again and I promise I won't tell Tiago and Thien. And now stop crying, you fucking idiot, it makes me want to hug you and I can't because you're covered in barf."

Against his will, Isaiah had to laugh. It quickly turned into another stifled sob as he remembered that they were still stuck far away from their dormitory.

"I feel like crap. How the fuck are we supposed to get back home when I'm like… like this?"

"Don't worry, I'm gonna call a fellow student. The guy still owes me one." Luka took out two more handkerchiefs and tried to wipe the worst mess from Isaiah's hands and clothes. "Probably gonna tell him to bring something clean so you can get changed… and a trash bag to transport this hazardous material you're wearing."

"You're so dumb", Isaiah mumbled, but he did feel a little better. Still dizzy and shaky and nauseous, but not as desperate.

"That's rich, coming from you", Luka grinned and took a moment to ruffle Isaiah's hair, even though he had fixed it just minutes ago. "Enough with the sad face now. You probably don't know, but I'm a great nurse. I'll get you back on your feet in no time."

"Wait, you… you really wanna take care of me?" Isaiah felt his freckled cheeks turn even warmer. His friends had always looked out for each other when one of them was dead drunk, but he hadn't expected Luka to stay with him when he was actually sick. "I mean… what if you catch it?"

"Then it's your time to repay the favor." Being somewhat done with his cleaning attempts, Luka disposed of the tissues and got out his phone instead to call for their pickup service. "Don't worry, I'll make sure he brings a barf bag, just in case there's anything left after you threw up the entire Niagara falls. And once we got you tucked up in bed, we can distract you with a bit of online shopping. After this, you definitely need a stress-free holiday time."

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Archive of our own: Up all night to get Bucky

tumblr: birdnamedenza

[cleoselene]

I'm thrilled and delighted to see all the midwestern discourse on casseroles (idk, I'm from Illinois, my grandma who made all these things was from Iowa, we always said casserole and not hot dish, though sometimes grandma would just say "dish" after whatever kind of casserole, like "tuna fish dish" or "chicken dish")

but I am equally delighted by the bewilderment on this post, from people from outside of the midwest or the country in general, because literally this is a very WTF looking thing if you didn't grow up on it. I've literally never ever heard of anyone eating cream of mushroom soup as a soup. Ever. It's just a casserole additive, aka, the one thing we always had in the cupboard when I was growing up and foraging for snacks and knew was absolutely inedible on its own, and borderline in my family's casseroles.

They. Were not good. Tuna fish dish was a parfait of cream of mushroom soup, canned tuna, and potato chips, repeat repeat, let the chips be the last at the top to get nice and brown. GROSS. LIKE CAT FOOD.

Chicken dish was a bit better but. Still. Great Depression food. My grandmother was born in 1923 and her formative years being the Great Depression was SO evident in her cooking. Bad casseroles. Shit on a shingle. Everything horrifyingly underseasoned because Grandma had anxiety and three ulcers and couldn't handle seasoning. My family carries their anxiety in their stomachs, I do it too, which manifests in me having a constant script for Promethazine to avoid nauseous spells.

Anyway, I envy people whose family made good casseroles. You know who I envy more? Italians. My old roommate was Italian and when she said she was making a casserole, it was like... PIZZA CASSEROLE WITH LOTS OF HEAVENLY SEASONING AND NO CANNED SOUP IN SIGHT. I remember eating one of her casseroles and apologizing to my meal for judging casseroles in the way I had with my midwestern family that doesn't season food.

Anyway! Enough of my personal sob story, I think Tim's is probably better than all of Grandma's (sorry Grandma, but I think she would agree she was no cook, and my mother is... her mother's child lol) and I think it looks better than Amy Klobuchar's:

I'm sorry but beer brats sound way better in this scenario than ground beef. And cream of cheese >>> cream of chicken. That's a choice, Amy, cream of chicken in a ground beef casserole. I like that she's adding a bit more seasoning though. Hm.

JD Vance: *is from the midwest, claims to be for the working class normal folks, went to Yale and is a venture capitalist*

Tim Walz:

[z3nitsusgf]

perv osamu plz plz 🙏🙏

ahh i missed writing for haikyuu, i love samu sm :(

cw: cum feeding (noncon), vibrators and dildo use, threesome (w/ atsumu), inappropriate work behavior, pussy inspection, fondling, afab reader, panty sniffing/stealing, mentions of overstim, clit kisses <3

perv osamu who’s your boss at onigiri miya, and he’s an absolute menace to you :((

perv osamu who makes you wear a skimpy borderline indecent uniform, tight shirt that’s way too small for you, short skirt that rides up with each step you take. since you’re the only one there, you don’t really have a choice do you? and samu is watching how you bend over the counters and tables to get empty cups and plates, seeing the seam of you pussy outlined in your pretty black panties.

perv osamu who will purposely do things like spilling water on your white button up, watching how it gets soaked and see through. says the, “oh darlin’, m’ so sorry for ruinin’ yer shirt.” and he’ll tsk and pretend like he gives a damn. uses it as an excuse to pat your chest, “accidentally” grabbing your tit and watching how you flush and squirm under his gaze. “it’s alright samu, don’t worry about it.”

perv osamu who’s always giving you a taste of his new recipes. says you’re the only one he trusts, and he lives to see how your eyes shine and sparkle when you take an onigiri from him. “s’ really good samu, what’d you put in it this time.” you say with a mouth full of rice, and osamu smiles. “just the usual, added some more pickled plum this time.” you don’t need the real secret ingredient, that your boss cums in the food before he wraps it up nice and pretty for you. as long as you’re getting addicted to the taste of his cum, doesn’t matter to samu.

perv osamu who will become your best friend even though he’s your boss. who comes over to your apartment to hang out, and he’s going through your laundry to pick up your wet black panties that you wore from your shift. does all the nasty shit he wants to it. smells them and sucks on them, cums in them. and when he comes over again next time he’s resting them on your folded laundry pile, all clean and nice again.

perv osamu who teases you to no end. and one time when you’re alone in the shop, kisses you with all spit and tongue. it’s messy and gross, but it makes you weak in the knees and samu is dragging you on his lap. wants you to grind your sopping cunt on his thigh till you soak it and make it slick with your cum. who’s prying open your mouth, making your jaw all lax so he can spit down your throat and make you swallow it. the beginning of him training you to be his little fucktoy.

perv osamu who gives you pussy inspections. comes home everyday and is spreading your thighs so he can thumb open your folds, watching how your slit drips in arousal and how your clit throbs under his gaze. simply stares at your pussy clenching around nothing, enjoys how embarrassed you get. “missed me that much huh?” he’ll mumble into your slick folds, letting your thighs wrap around his shoulders and he kisses your pulsing clit.

perv osamu who gets obsessed with fucking you with toys. doesn’t matter if it’s a too big dildo, a vibrator, something— he relishes in how you squirm and cry and gush all over him. how sensitive and sweet you are, it makes him fuck you with the fake cock harder, or push the buzzing vibrator on your puffy achy clit till you wail and smack his chest.

perv osamu who doesn’t mind if his twin wants to indulge in you a little bit himself. who watches when tsumu plows into your small cunt, “pretty little baby ya got here samu, sure i can’t have her,” atsumu grins, using your ass to haul you on his cock harder. and you’re drooling and gushing, looking at samu with teary glazed eyes. “fuck off tsumu, enjoy it while you can.” he says, cupping your face in his palms and guiding you to his cock.

perv osamu who finds every place to fondle and play with your tits. always has a hand under your shirt and pinching your nipples till they perk up and get swollen. doesn’t matter if you’re in public or anything, samu doesn’t care. it’s even worse when you’re at home because he’ll slobber and suck on them till you smack and pull at his head because he just. won’t. stop.

always squeezes them in his palms, kneading them and kissing the skin that’s gripped in his fist, watching how you whine and jolt and arch your back for him. ignores when you mewl that they’re too sensitive, keeps tugging on the achy bud till you cum in your panties, untouched.

perv osamu is a lot to handle, but he loves you a lot <3

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

The Beginning: Chapter 1

Summary: Those with a uterus have it hard in modern society, pre or post quirk. It’s even harder in a post-quirk society, however. Especially when the person in question has the ability to have a child who’s quirk is just like or stronger than the other parent’s. For a girl like Izumi? It only takes one nurse to diverge her path from what destiny wrote. Now, forced to make the borderline unethical work to protect her, the choices she makes will mean everything.

Warning Tags: Sexism, Quirkless discrimination, HPSC is SHADY as hell, Quirk marriages, arranged marraiges

ON AO3

Part 1 of Diverging Paths (AKA: Betrothal Verse Remix)

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  When Midoriya Izumi turned four and then five, yet still showed no signs of a Quirk, her mother worried. Izumi’s father, Midoriya Hisashi, also did, in the distant way he did ever since he left for America, too bitter to want to stay for a marriage that could never be what he wanted. So he told his wife, Midoriya Inko, to go to a doctor and see what was happening. So she did, heading to the doctor with her tiny daughter.

 Before announcing the diagnosis, the doctor ran some tests, X-rays and blood. When all of them returned, he told them that Midoriya Izumi was Quirkless yet carried the gene for Quirks. How he phrased it confused Inko, the older woman probing the doctor for info. The man didn’t care to go into the specifics and instead directed her to a doctor named Hasegawa Kin. The woman was much nicer than the first doctor, kind and polite.

 “It’s simple, really,” the woman explained. “Izumi is a carrier for the Quirk gene. Many Quirkless women are.” The doctor paused. “Or anyone able to carry a baby. Whatever terminology you wish to use.”

 “But what does that mean?” Inko asked, groaning. She looked at the younger woman across from her, noting Hasegawa looked pleased by her questions, her eerie blue eyes almost glowing. Hasegawa looked a second away from bouncing, thrilled that they were asking questions rather than accepting her words. Sitting next to Inko across the desk from Hasegawa, Izumi looked more eager in the woman’s eyes than in her words.

 “It means that Izumi here has a sort of blank Quirk. Theoretically, it could lead to a force-activated Quirk, but I firmly suggest under no circumstances do you even think about it; I will call CPS.” Hasegawa warned Inko. “In other matters, though, the blank Quirk will act as a sort of… sponge and enhancer for any Quirk introduced to it.” Hasegawa paused, a hand going to rest on her chin as she tried to figure out how to explain it. “By this, I do mean if she even had children, the kids born from her would have not only their other parent’s Quirk but also a stronger version of it.”

 “Oh,” Inko said, feeling underwhelmed. All of that build-up for a simple explanation?

 “Yeah, it doesn’t sound exciting, but Dr. Tsubasa probably didn’t want to have to explain the next bit.” Hasegawa rolled her eyes as she spoke. “I don’t even like doing it, and I love Quirks.”

 “Me too!” Izumi said, sensing the drama of the whole thing was ending for Inko. “What’s yours?”

 “Ah, I call it Sense Sight. My eyes are able to sort of scan people and tell me things about them! Normally if they’re sick or injured or whatever.” Dr. Hasegawa waved her hand. “Pretty cool, right?”

 “Yeah! Is that why you’re a doctor?” Izumi asked.

 “Ehhh, kinda. I’m a Pediatric Quirk Specialist, meaning I work with Quirks rather than people usually. I have no temperament to be a full-on doctor for like actual sickness.” Hasegawa admitted. “Sometimes, your Quirk just doesn’t fit you. I still got put into medical school because people shoved me to it, but I got the last laugh.” Hasegawa shook her head. “Not the point! So, I do actually have some big stuff, though, and it’s gross.”

 “What?” Izumi asked as Inko looked at the doctor in worry. Hasegawa made a face.

 “Ever hear of the For the Future Agency?” she asked.

 “Aren’t they a fertility agency?” Inko replied in confusion. Hasegawa nodded.

 “Indeed, plus they do matchmaking. Particularly in regards to Quirks.” Hasegawa snorted. “We might pretend that Quirk marriages are illegal, but people love to just ‘happen’ to use a matchmaking service that helps there.”

 “… why are you telling me this?” Inko asked slowly.

 “Protocol. Izumi here is very much a catch for anyone interested in paying the big bucks to have a match made for their kid for Quirk-based reasons. Wow, you are very good at glaring- I’m not saying you have to give her name,” Hasegawa raised her hands as she spoke her last words, almost recoiling from the glare Inko gave her. “I’m asking if you’re willing. If not, I’ll forget it.”

 “I won’t toss my daughter into that. If she wants a match arranged for her later on, I will do so,” Inko growled. Part of the growl came from the idea of Izumi being treated like a commodity. The other part came from Inko’s own experience in her arranged marriage. The entire thing had been based on business, with Inko showing no interest in it while Hisashi did. Given the two were friends and got along, the marriage was arranged. Pity that Inko did not feel any interest in romance or sex, throwing up when she was informed of the wedding.

 Hisashi, upon learning of this, grew bitter. He’d had a crush on Inko and hoped for the relationship of friends to turn into lovers through the marriage. He never pressed, but his anger was apparent. Their parents wouldn’t listen, though, marrying the two off and combining the companies. That was swiftly followed by the newly merged company tanking terribly, several buyouts and the loss of millions. Shody business techniques had been the reason behind it, but both Hisashi and Inko grew to hate each other over it. Yet they couldn’t divorce without going further into debt. So, after Izumi was born, Hisashi left for America to work, and Inko found herself publishing books. Mostly bodice rippers and terrible romances that were more junk food for the brain than anything, but it got them by. They were still married, but both knew it was only because they’d be ruined otherwise.

 “Sounds good,” Hasegawa said, waving a hand and pulling Inko from her thoughts. “Now, Dr. Tsubasa, I don’t trust. The guy is squirrely with a capital S, so I’m going to suggest a different doctor- Dr. Yamanato. She’s married to a woman with a sex Quirk and is hyper-aware of the situation Izumi is in due to this. She’s a good one.” Hasegawa grabbed a business card off her desk. “Have a good one, alright?” The two Midoriyas left as Hasegawa turned to write down what had happened. The office she sat in used paper for their notes because paper was the only non-hackable source in the world. Once she finished, she slid the notes into a file with a message to send it over to Dr. Yamanato’s office. The file was placed in a box for her assistants and nurses to look into.

 The nurse who picked up the file stopped upon noticing the note for Dr. Yamanato. Takahashi Suri knew of Dr. Yamanato, having been told by a different nurse that the doctor dealt with cases related to sexual Quirk or fertility Quirks. Takahashi also understood that information about people with those sorts of Quirks were sought after by many and that submitting the names often turned out profitable for the doctors.

 The nurse opened the file to see who Dr. Hasegawa would send the information to, stopping upon seeing the note; Mother stated no interest in contacting the For the Future Agency. Takahashi stared at that note, feeling shocked. She looked into the file more, wondering why. Perhaps the Quirk the child had could hurt her?

 Yet as Takahashi read, she could only see that the child did not have a Quirk. They weren’t giving this information out? The information of a Quirkless child? Takahashi’s hands clenched around the file, knuckles white with rage. This Quirkless could benefit society by having strong Quirked children to bless the world- and yet they did not allow it?

 Takahashi scowled, moving to the photocopier. She would handle this and enable the good of society. As well as her paycheck, given she knew how much For the Future would pay for this information. It wouldn’t take long; simply photocopying the notes, a little photo editing to get rid of the name, and she would be golden.

 Takahashi felt too angry and greedy to think things through as she photocopied the notes truly. She forgot that For The Future sent out magazines containing not only happy stories of successful fertility treatments but also included the various people submitted for matchmaking. She forgot the names of those who submitted them would be included in the magazine when she did so. She left off Hasegawa’s name when she did, eager for the money to go into her pocket.

 Three weeks after Takahashi found the file, she found herself in cuffs as her boss held the magazine in her hands, the page open to the profile of Midoriya Izumi, sent in by Takahashi Suri.

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Notes:

REWRITE TIME. I’ve been wanting to rewrite this story for a while and finally I am. I won't be posting the routes until two are done at least, but with one written and just needing a rewrite... we'll see!

Anyway, note time.

-More information about everything going on, plus a little bit of me fucking around for my own amusement with characters. Dr. Tsubasa really doesn’t care about this so he directs the Midoriya’s to Hasagawa, who no is not related to Sakura from Devotion to the Aesthetic. I just grabbed one of the more common surnames.

-I changed the name of the agency because For the Future sounds more wholesome then Bloodlines and like given ‘Quirk marriages are illegal’ like I think they’d go with it.

-Matchmakers are a thing in Japan. It’s just in this AU I ramped it up to eleven (I think? Look if they actually have magazines with ‘hey this person is willing to marry’ y'all can tell me.) because with Quirks things get wild. They dance around the idea of Quirk marriage by boasting about ‘compatibility’.  

-Bit of fun with Inko and her past with Hisashi. For once not a Dad for One AU from me. Weird. ANYWAYS so yes in this AU, Inko’s parents had a company, Hisashi’s did too and they were arranged to get married. Didn’t work out at all as you can see. The companies were always going to collapse though, bad business decisions everywhere. But they can’t divorce without going further into debt so they’re stuck. (And yes, despite being Aro-Ace Inko writes romantic novels. She likes romance but the idea of it being personally applied is an EWWWW notion.)

-I fleshed out the nurse who ended up spilling the beans. Originally it was just greed but I added some Quirk supremacy thoughts because I was like: okay but if it’s like a five-year-old would someone still do it? Which, like, yeah but I also… I dunno, felt this worked too.

[lululawrence]

Can u please be nicer on ao3? Maybe you should try answering people's comments

when i read the first line i was honestly flabbergasted and wracking my brain trying to figure out when in the world i wasn't nice on ao3 ever. because i honestly truly try to be nice to everyone always, even when i'm angry or frustrated or people are going after those i love and want to protect. if there was a time i WASN'T nice on ao3, i wondered if it was maybe because my comment had been misunderstood or someone saw me razzing an author i'm good friends with and they didn't get that we are close and i said what i did with so much love and appreciation, you know? like what??? did i do???

but then i read your second line. and please forgive me if i come off as rude in my response to this, because honestly i'm in a pretty bad spot mentally and emotionally in general right now, but PARTICULARLY today, and this ask triggered an anxiety response in me. so. i'm trying really hard to word this in a way to educate without being condescending or mean, but i might not succeed.

firstly, thank you for your comments i'm assuming you've left. i'm also assuming they were nice comments, in which case extra thanks. i'm sure i'll send you effusive responses on ao3 when the time comes.

secondly, please understand that sending an ask like this, on anonymous no less, is incredibly entitled. writing is not my profession, i receive no compensation for my works that i post for free online, and as a part of that it is not required of me to respond. i do my very best to reply to every comment i receive, but it is not always in a timely manner, because i have other priorities in my life. all of which leads us to my third point, which is:

writers do not owe you a reply to your comments. end of. there are no other qualifications or quantifying modifiers to be added to the statement. is it nice to be acknowledged and know your comment was seen? sure. but do they OWE you one? hell no.

in fact, i'd like to offer you a suggestion. a way of tweaking your thinking about the comments you leave on fics. instead of looking at comments you leave as being something that deserves a reply from the author, think of your comments as your way of paying the author for the gift of their time and talents that they have shared with you by posting their fic. that's how i think of the comments i leave for authors. i'm giving them my thanks for the words they've shared! i want to help THEM feel as amazing as they have made ME feel when i read their fic. in fact, my hope isn't necessarily a response from them, but instead my hope is THE GIFT OF THEM SHARING MORE FIC WITH ME. i'm a selfish bitch in that way and i always want all the fic to read. i never want that well to go dry. one way i can ensure that doesn't happen is by supporting authors and being kind to them and spreading all the love and excitement i can about their writing in the hopes that my words will inspire them to share more.

because whether they reply or not, i GUARANTEE they are seeing your comments. i PROMISE they are. and for all you know, your comment might be the one that keeps them writing even when their words aren't coming easily or when they are tempted to give up.

but, again, please remember that no matter what, these authors (including me) don't actually owe you anything.

the rest of this is going under a cut, because honestly my reply is already far too long and i have a LOT more to say now that you've gotten me started.

now, all of this in mind, i'll explain to you why i'm not great with keeping up with comments made on my fics the last couple of years. i don't owe you this explanation any more than i owe you a response to your comments, and i'm honestly not sure you deserve this explanation either, but i'll still offer it anyway. it'll help me feel better knowing i at least put this out there, whether you care or not, mainly because if i don't do that it will cause me greater anxiety having you possibly think i am not responding to people because i feel all high and mighty or that i think i'm better than the comments or whatever the fuck kind of motivation you're attributing to me to see my lack of a response as something "not nice" towards the commenters.

i'm not sure if you've noticed, but i put out a lot of fic. like a lot. a lot of words and shit. i love writing, it's often my therapy and a way for me to help keep my anxiety and depression and ptsd at bay.

now, more personal shit for you, i've got three kids ages 9 and under. the oldest has adhd which we have yet to find a med for that helps to the extent she needs without side effects that aren't healthy for her to continue with, she also has anxiety, AND she's extremely gifted and starting a new program at a new school, all in the midst of a pandemic. and all of those situations exacerbate her anxiety! huzzah! she's also dealing with the beginning of her tween growing up shit, which is great fun because it means where she used to be pretty damn understanding of her younger brother, she is finding it much more difficult to. because the second oldest? he's autistic with some pretty significant gross motor, speech, and socialization delays that have only been exacerbated because of the previously mentioned pandemic. PLUS he transitioned from his special needs preschool to a fully integrated elementary school for kindergarten last year and then had to deal with all the ups and downs of the switch from e-learning to hybrid to all in schooling when everything in him screams for a normal schedule he can rely on to keep his own anxieties and fears and struggles at their minimum. and that youngest child? he was born in january of last year. he STILL barely leaves the house and has only met other children in close range a couple of times because, once again, pandemic!

add onto all of this my own mental health issues, the fact that my husband ALSO battles major clinical depression, adhd, and anxiety, AND we live with my parents who have their own health issues, both mental and physical. i run the home for our house of seven. i keep this place functioning, fed, clothed, clean, and everywhere we need to be for all of our five million appointments every. fucking. day. there is a REASON i've been borderline burnt out for the last fucking year and a half.

now, for fun, i have fandom shit. i love it here, even if it is a dumpster fire on the best of days, and getting to be a part of the writing community is so very lovely. i adore it. honestly, it's because of those friendships i've built with other writers that i have been able to keep writing and have found just how helpful it can be for my mental health. but i'm REALLY. INCREDIBLY. BUSY. i hardly have time to get on tumblr for just a quick swipe through my dash most days. i put off asks so long i forget i have them. i don't have the mental and emotional capacity to talk to people on here or interact fully a lot of the time. but i do my best to do so and be kind while i'm at it even when i don't want to be.

then, on top of that? i also run fic fests like @wordplayfics and help friends run their own. because not only am i a writer, i'm a reader. i LOVE fic. fic has saved me soooooo many times over the past seven years that i've been here. i want to do what i can to support other writers the best way i can, which is to provide a space for them to create their works that welcomes and helps promote them, but also by doing my monthly fic lists and pocast highlighting what i've been able to read, reblogging their fic posts, and then commenting and kudosing their fics too.

sometimes i get really fucking down on myself because i'm so behind on replying to comments, but my brain is very much a "if you start this, you have to finish it" kind of a brain, and i feel even WORSE sometimes if i reply to comments on some fics and not all of them. but i do my best and reply when i can. i was actually really fucking proud of myself because i had a couple days to myself in june, and i spent hours replying to comments on 20 of my fics. when you have almost 150 fics (i think? i don't even know how many fics i've posted by now), that is only scratching the surface. but i tried and i was so so happy i did that many fics at once. it's exhausting, though, and takes a lot of spoons for me to reply to them in mass like that plus time consuming. so i tried to be happy with those 20 fics and the comments i responded to there and told myself that when i ha a moment to breathe, i'd go and work on replying to some more.

but see, that again causes anxiety and guilt. because i haven't replied to all of them. and that anxiety and guilt can cause me to put it off further OR to put off important things like feeding my children or getting sleep in order to finish it, so i have to make myself put things into perspective and ensure i'm doing the important things, like taking care of myself and my family, first.

and then, i have a moment where i CAN go ahead and reply to comments... but i also have MANY fics that are on deadline and i actually have a schedule. a SCHEDULE. for when i'm going to focus on which fics. i can spell it out for you if you really want. i made it back in APRIL to make sure i didn't sign up for too many fic fests because there are so many going on right now that i want to participate in, but i know i can't do all of them so i had to pick and choose. and when you are SO overscheduled and busy that back in APRIL you had to figure out what fics you would focus on at what time to ensure you got everything written when you wanted to through THE END OF THE YEAR, more choices have to be made.

for example. my writing time and time for myself came down to only one evening a week for ALL fandom things i'm doing and a part of right now once the kids were out of school for the summer. it quickly became apparent that for my own self care i needed more time, so i worked with my husband to find two other days i could carve out at least 30-60 minutes to myself to write every week. and i did. but if i'm already only getting that much time and have committed to those fics and fests and things that you're running etc, you have to choose am i going to use this time to try to squeeze in some comment replies? or am i going to write? and i choose to write. simple as that.

so yeah. see it as selfish if you want. see it as mean. you can honestly see it as whatever the fuck you want, but for me? i know that as soon as i possibly can and i can breathe freely for once and not feel like i am constantly drowning in my day to day life and am doing pretty well when it comes to my fic deadlines and getting started on those christmas cards i'm once again going to be making by hand for everyone on tumblr who chooses to sign up for one this year out of the KINDNESS of my heart and the love i really do feel for so many of you, then i promise i'll be on ao3 catching up and commenting. my friends laugh and make fun of me for it sometimes, because they will sometimes get 10-12 replies to their comments in a single day. they know that's how i work. i WILL reply to every single comment i get, no matter how old it is. but for the love of all that is holy, do NOT add to the anxiety and guilt i already feel over it. the only place that will get you is the ask/comment getting deleted if it's a good day, a fucking long rant like this one if it's not, and a block if it's a REALLY bad day.

if you're asking me to be nice on ao3, then i ask in return that you also be nice by not demanding things of people that they are not in any way obligated to give.

[spirit-meets-the-b0ne]

I mean the hypocrisy around this justification and debate of innocence is dizzying, neither one of these children should have died. Both Jaehaerys and Luke were by all practical application non combatants - you can try to apply the few years Luke had as more “choice” in his death but he didn’t CHOOSE to go face off with his elder uncle as he was unaware he would be there and he didn’t choose to initiate combat (and for the crybabies no he didn’t choose to bully Aemond either if you recall that was all lovely little Aegon’s orchestration [this is explicitly acknowledged by Alicent]). So before we get to the “dubious innocence dessert” we gotta get through a pretty tough main course of “intent and complacency” first.

Luke had declared to support his mother but a 13 year old envoy and a 19/20 year old who “trains with the sword” are not on the same playing field let’s be real. And if you want to go ahead and ignore every canon factor of the text that suggests Luke was a non combatant and was wrongfully murdered because “Rhaenyra shouldn’t have sent him” then that knife cuts both ways. Aegon as a King should have taken every precaution for his wife and children’s safety BEFORE Luke even took to the skies. I mean this is same fandom that debates Rhaegar’s responsibility in his wife and children’s death but the BIG difference here is that Rhaegar wasn’t the King. Aerys wanted Elia, the children and Jaime Lannister as collateral because he knew what was brewing so there wasn’t much in the way of options there. Aegon however, knew that war would be upon them so why in the gods names would you not send the kids and your wife to Old Town or somewhere with clear Green alliances until treaties were made? Because if your enemy was known as the “Prince of the City” and “Lord of Flea Bottom” would it not occur to you that he probably has friends there and that it’s ultimately not safe? After Luke died maybe instead of throwing a party you sure up your defenses? Maybe you take some initiative and realize that your family isn’t safe and your possibility of a peaceful resolution was just literally shot out of the sky? Another reason I hate the HotD writers was the choice to make Aemond killing Luke a borderline accident and just making it look like the Green Council are just trying to constantly recover a fumble and pass it off like this was the plan all along. Because the intent in these events deeply matters and “uwu I didn’t mean to kill Luke my dwagon just didn’t listen to the commands I suddenly forgot to give in the right language even though an episode ago I just said I study history and philosophy and ride the biggest dragon” is so messy.

Still, Jaehaerys shouldn’t have died. Him and his siblings were innocent, they should not have been anywhere near this conflict. Lucerys shouldn’t have been murdered, because that’s what he was; murdered as a 13 year old envoy who swore an oath for peace. We didn’t get to see the Lucerys that might have been a warrior capable of fighting because he was not when he was sent to the Storm Lands. However, their deaths are really more telling of the killers than the killed. Rhaenyra and Helaena both lost their children due to the blood lust and vengeful nature of the men in their lives, point blank. Trying to justify the death of one of these children in that clear context is gross and hypocritical. Trying to say Lucery’s death was a result of actions🫱🏼‍🫲🏽consequences but that Jaehaerys being left in the Red Keep (the intended final destination of this war) wasn’t a consequence of negligence and Aegon’s complacence is hypocritical, but hey I guess he is his father’s son after all. Both of these deaths were a result of Aegon’s inability to rule: he couldn’t control his brother, he couldn’t protect his family, and he couldn’t run a war council that foresaw these disastrous results. You can agree to disagree but the fact of the matter is if there’s anyone in the Dance who had to deal with the consequences of their actions and inactions it’s Aegon II and no child should have died for it. I don’t celebrate the death of either of these boys, not sure everyone on TB or TG can say the same but let’s call a spade a spade because this isn’t a pissing contest of who had a right to kill children. The answer should always be NONE OF THEM.

Kind of getting sick of this whole “Lucerys was innocent” narrative and that B&C is justified because of Luke’s death.

When a house or a person declares for Team Black, they become the enemy of Team Green. You are supporting Rhaenyras claim to the throne against Aegons and therefore seen as the enemy.

When Lucerys CHOSE and volunteered to fly (because they would be faster than ravens) to Storms end in an attempt to gain support for Rhaenyra, he was declared an enemy of Team Green. His death was a consequence of his own action.

Your own Action 🤝 Your own Consequence

If Luke had refused to go in person, and Team Green had just decided to kill him, then yes he would’ve been innocent. But that’s not the case.

Stop comparing Lucerys to Jaehaerys and claiming that it was a fair exchange. It wasn’t.

Jaehaerys is six years old, probably has no clue what the hell is even going on, he doesn’t get to choose who he supports, and ends up being murdered for something his uncle did.

So people protesting the “there was no reason to kill Jaehaerys” by using Lucerys death as a fair reason, need to open their eyes to the reality of the show, which is that regardless of how much you loved that character, it does not make them innocent to everything.

I don’t care how cute he comes across to you. He chose his side, and died for it. He was mature enough to understand that by 13-14 years old. I’m not saying he definitively deserved to be murdered, because I don’t think he did, but I won’t be out here claiming he’s innocent when he’s not.

———

A justification I am also seeing a lot now, is that “well Jaehaerys is team green by default because he’s Aegons son”

Myrcella Lannister was murdered in Game of Thrones. She was innocent but was killed because she was associated with the Lannisters. She was killed as an act of “revenge” because Oberyn was killed in a situation he chose to put himself in. She was not responsible for any bad blood between the Martells and Lannisters, nor was she responsible for the actions of Cersei or Joffrey.

Jaehaerys Targaryen will be murdered in House of the Dragon. He is innocent, but will be killed because he is associated with Team Green. He will be killed as an act of “revenge” because Lucerys was killed in a situation he chose to put himself in. He is not responsible for any bad blood between Team Green or Team Black, nor is he responsible for the actions of Aegon or Aemond.

So stop with this ridiculousness. What’s to come is not right, it is not justified in any way shape or form, and it will be devastating and sad.

[jincherie]

kiss it better | jjk

~ COMMISSION FOR @cinnaminsvga​​ ~

✩ — pairing: jungkook x reader ✩ — genre: college/uni au, smut, cheerleader!jk, pining, borderline crack ✩ — words: 11.7k ✩ — rating: 18+ ✩ — warnings: koo takes a tumble, explicit sexual content; clothed sex, unprotected sex (not recommended), creampie, handjobs,light subby!jk, hand-holding during sex (potent), whining, thigh-riding, vaginal sex, minor hair pulling, public sex (sort of), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, light dirty talk ✩ — notes: out later than intended and a bit longer than intended !! whoops!!! i won’t/don’t charge if i go over the commissioned amount becayse that’s my bad!! but yeah. its been a hot second since i last wrote smut!! also none of my friends were awake to proofread this so….. apologies if it’s shit and has typos! its 2am! pls enjoy and lmk whast u think!!

When one goes to Kim Seokjin for advice, it’s almost guaranteed to never end well. This is something Jungkook learns quickly when he mistakenly follows treasured advice to ‘be smart’ and ‘use his assets’. He just did what he was told! Of course, the execution was a bit poor… and embarrassing. But hey, if rocking up to cheer practice in a skirt doesn’t woo your crush, what will?

masterlist | — posted; 01.03.2020

TUESDAY, SEMESTER 2 WEEK FOUR

It’s a beautiful day, the sun has just come to peak out from behind the clouds that had earlier obscured its climb from the horizon, and the grass of the Biological Sciences Library courtyard glistens with raindrops left over from the brief shower that prefaced the sun’s belated appearance. Students are finally beginning to emerge from the safety of the undercover walkways and overhangs, venturing boldly to shortcut over the grass. University life resumes, and everything falls back into its place, all as usual.

“Yah, is that Jungkook? Wait what is he—”

Well, everything except for one thing.

A red and black-clad figure slams to a stop right where two students are sitting and minding their own business outside the café attached to the back of the library—there’s no time to say hello. The table rocks dangerously on its beaten, metal leg, the impact of Jungkook’s beeline almost sending it straight to the ground if the two others weren’t already seated there to catch it.

“OW!” Jimin is never one to be quiet in his complaints, all too happy to holler his outrage at the top of his lungs. As his oldest hyung would say, no attention is bad attention. “Hey you almost jammed my fingers!”

Startled as Taehyung might have been, his focus is quickly shifted to other things. His wide eyes scan Jungkook’s panting form, taking in the clothes clinging to him like a second skin and the beet red colour of his face and ears. It’s not hard to put two and two together, but what comes out of his mouth isn’t exactly the most pressing thing he wants to ask, “Jungkook, why are you wearing the female cheer leading uniform I gave you?”

There’s a somewhat crazed look that makes itself known in the youngest’s eyes. “AHA!” he throws a finger in Taehyungs face, accusing. “So you ADMIT it’s a female uniform! Taehyung, you ass, how could you!”

Taehyung’s face is a question mark and Jimin squints, confused and still huffy about nearly losing his fingers and his triple-shot iced caramel latte that he may or may not have charmed the barista into gifting him for free. He wants to know what is going on and he wants to know NOW, damn it!

“What are you on about?” he asks, wrinkling his nose as he takes his drink into hand to prevent any future risk of spillage. “Why do you look like that time you ran the half-marathon on a dare?”

Jungkook glares at him, but it’s about as effective as it would be coming from a puppy. “Be quiet and sip your drink,” he says boldly, still attempting to get his breathing under control. Jimin considers throwing a retort back but ultimately decides against, it, shrugging and doing just that. He doesn’t want it getting warm, after all.  

“Uh, yeah,” Taehyung says, sounding like he is a split second away from tacking on ‘duh’ at the end. “You asked me for a cheerleading uniform? I thought you knew some chick that needed a spare, I didn’t know you wanted one to wear.”

At Jungkook’s dumbfounded expression, Taehyung takes the liberty of continuing. “I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with it? You look surprisingly hot in a skirt, your ass looks fine as hell. But you seem kind of angry so IN MY DEFENSE, how was I supposed to know? That you wanted a male uniform? You never specified so—”

While each word that came out of Taehyung’s mouth just seemed to rile him up more, a different look passes over Jungkook’s features at that comment. “Wait, my ass looks good?” He straightens, attempting to peer over his own shoulder to catch a glimpse. “I wonder if she… No!”

He shakes his head suddenly to clear those thoughts and get back on track, whipping that same accusing finger in Taehyung’s face once more and levelling him with a renewed glare. 

“Because of you, I just had the most humiliating experience of my life, and it was all in front of you-know-who!” His voice starts strong, but as he continues it shrinks to more of an angry whisper, his brows scrunched in a clear display of his displeasure. “I literally am about to commit seppuku.”

“Weeb,” Jimin utters at the same time as Taehyung asks, “y/n?” Jimin’s head whips up at the keyword. 

Jungkook’s fight has all but left him at this point, and he pulls out one of the metal chairs to slump in it, defeatedly. His ears are turning crimson again as he recalls the events that had traumatised him so, and he slams his head to the table with a groan, muttering to himself in a voice that sounds dangerously like a sob.

“—stupid, was so stupid of me. I never should have asked Seokjin-hyung for advice. For actually listening I deserve nothing short of death. I’m so embarrassed I’m gonna throw myself into the lake.”

“Don’t throw yourself in there, think of the fishes—” Taehyung says at the same time as Jimin squawks, “WHAT?! You got advice from Seokjin?! He knows who your crush is? Oh my god, you’re more stupid than I thought…”

It’s all Jungkook can do to simply rest his head on the grubby-feeling table, eyes unfocused as he stares into the distance and regrets almost every single decision he has made in his waking life. 

FOUR DAYS EARLIER

“My roommate,” Seokjin says, in between gratuitous sips of his monstrously sugary drink. “I think I’m almost about to get him to crack.”

“I feel bad for him,” you say, not looking up from your laptop despite the urge to gorge on your own drink. You made a goal not to look like a goblin when you woke up this morning and sipping your drink at a reasonable pace is a good start. “Being stuck in close quarters with you all the time. No doubt he needs therapy by now.”

As expected, Seokjin ignores you. You wonder if this is how he has managed not to get usurped as leader of the Contemporary Poetry Performance Club.

(To condense a very long story— he didn’t take being kicked out of the Drama Club very well. That’s on him though, he probably shouldn’t have called the Club Leader a tasteless fool for ordering a salad with his Happy Meal instead of nuggets. But, you digress.)

“I think I’m getting close these days,” the male muses, not-so-subtly making a reach for the McDonalds apple pie you have resting on the table next to your laptop. You smack his hand away without so much as a blink, more than used to having to defend any and all food from his wandering hands by this point. He continues, unaffected by the rebuttal, “Like, really close. It’s not long before my unrelenting bastardous antics wear him down and he finally breaks, spilling all his deepest secrets and confessing his long-time crush on me, thus allowing me to bring this act of friends-to-lovers pining to a close and get to the steamy stuff. “

At his spiel, you finally look at him, sporting a concerned and confused expression, if not somewhat intrigued. “… Are you talking about Jungkook?”

Seokjin chokes on the long sip he’d begun to drag up the straw, indignance making his voice rise. “NO, dumbass, I’m talking about Namjoon! Although…” He pauses only to bring a finger to stroke his chin, like a villain straight from an episode of Lazy Town, “You know, I never thought I’d be one for that harem shit, but now I think about it…”

“Gross,” you groan, wrinkling your nose. Seokjin releases a villainous cackle and you have no choice but to raise your fist in promise. He gets the message and quietens down immediately.

“No, but speaking of that little twerp,” Seokjin quickly starts up again, placing his drink down on the table. You feel an ounce of regret, knowing that means he’s about to talk for a longer time than you’re ready for. “I’m close to breaking him too.”

“He told you who his crush is?” you ask, brows raising in shock. Seokjin lets out a great sigh like the weight of the world is on his shoulders, making you snort.

“No,” he grumbles, before brightening straight after. “But! I’m getting close. He came to me for advice this morning.”

At his words, you’ve now completely abandoned whatever you were doing on your laptop and are looking at him in disbelief. “You’re lying.”

“Am not!” Seokjin denies, huffy. “He did! He wanted help making his crush fall in love with him, and so of course he came to me, Kim Seokjin, master of the heart and modern-day cupid.”

You pin him with a deadpan look. “Namjoon was out, wasn’t he.”

Seokjin’s glare is all the answer you need. He continues like you hadn’t even spoken in the first place.

“And since he so wisely came to me, of all people, and put his love life in my wise, gentle hands, I gave him the best advice anyone could possibly get.” The way his chest has swelled with pride and he’s looking all-too-pleased with himself doesn’t fill you with a good feeling. “I told him to play it smart, and use his assets.”

At first, you’re confused. “What, like… his cuteness? His endearing personality?”

“NO, dumbass, his assets! His ass! His thighs! His itty-bitty waist!” You think you hear him muttering something like ‘that lucky bitch’ under his breath, but can’t be sure. “Also, don’t think I missed you calling him cute, y/n. I’m filing that shit away for later.”

“I’ll kill you,” you inform him, but the threat has long since lost its impact. He rolls his eyes.

“Shut up, we both already know exactly how 'peggable’ you think he is.” He takes a haughty sip of his drink like he knows he’s right, and you hate that he is. “It’s not the most incriminating thing I have on you.”

You make the strategic decision not to say anything and dig your hole deeper, and Seokjin seems pleased at your silent admit of defeat.

“Anyway,” he says again, smacking the cream on top of his drink down into the liquid with a spoon. There is some fallout, but that’s never stopped him before. “Kid’s dumb as shit but pure of heart. I’m interested to see whether he will actually take my advice.”

“He won’t for sure,” you scoff, returning to your laptop at last. “Anyone who takes your advice is guaranteed to have an empty head and quarter of a brain cell to their name. Jungkook is smarter than that.”

As expected, Seokjin squawks in outrage, and it harmonises with the ambience of dead silence in your corner of the library. He doesn’t let the topic rest for the remainder of the day.    

WEDNESDAY, WEEK FIVE

You think that the day Jungkook first rocked up to cheer practice at the gym a week ago at the same time you were coaching the women’s basketball team, is one firmly burned into your memory for the rest of your life. And, honest to god, you wouldn’t have it any other way.  

Because the boy, in all his slim-waisted, sculpted-ass-and-thighs glory, had rocked up in a cheerleading crop top and skirt.

You have absolutely no idea why he decided to wear that to his first session after joining, but you do know that while the sight of him usually makes you drool, the sight of him in that made your brain cease all higher functioning and you, in essence, became a dog. You almost barked when you saw him, for real.

Even from across the room though, you’d quickly been able to gather that he hadn’t worn it on purpose (somehow), as his face flushed bright crimson and he quickly began to look like he wanted to neck himself in the middle of the gym. Yoongi, another bastard friend of yours who through a series of unfortunate events and regrettable decisions (for him) had become the cheer captain, had been insulted that Jungkook had shown up like that and “hadn’t taken cheer seriously”, and so had given him a punishment. Yoongi said that if he wanted to rock up in a skirt so badly, then for every coming practice he had to wear a skirt again.

Had you not been busy drooling you probably would have felt bad for Jungkook, as you did later when Yoongi filled you in. As it were, in the moment you’d nearly copped a basketball to the face for being so distracted. Regrettably, you’d had to turn away from Jungkook and back to your actual duties: coaching. 

Although with Yoongi being out for your blood, you have had plenty of opportunities in the past week to ogle to your heart’s desire. A real shameful amount, if you’re being honest with yourself.

“Bora!” you call, watching the girl in question halt across the gym. “Fix your footwork or I’m gonna smack you!”

The girl rolls her eyes and turns away, flicking a ponytail of dark hair over her shoulder as she does so, but listens to what you say. The familiar squeak of rubber on gym flooring fills the air as she starts the drill anew. She has a tendency to get lazy and sloppy in her movements if you don’t ride her ass, and she knows it as much as you do.

“How did you even managed to get the coaching position?” Seulgi asks from next to you, her response almost cut off by a loud racket from the cheer side of the gym. It takes all of your willpower not to fall into the trap and look over. “I feel like people like you shouldn’t be in positions of power.”

You don’t even bother arguing with her since she’s technically right and you agree. “Sheer dumb luck,” you tell her, risking a glance to the side if only to give Yoongi the stink eye. “Actually, if you really wanna know, I only went for it because Yoongi wanted it and he did something that really soured my yoghurt and pissed me off. So I applied out of spite. I probably shouldn’t have gotten the job though.”

“Huh,” Seulgi voices, eyes unfocused. “Well you’re not too bad for a fake. The team has actually been improving since you took over.”

“That’s probably because you guys went through coaches so fast for a while that for like, six months you didn’t really have one.”

“Touché.”

The only reason the girl is on the sidelines in the first place is because she’d looked over at the wrong time and caught it just as Jungkook started one of the tumbling routines, getting it almost perfect on the first go and in the process flashing his pert ass to the air and any sorry beholders. He might have been wearing bike shorts under the punishment skirt he was modelling, and he might have traded the crop top for a singlet of reasonable length, but it was still a dangerous, nay lethal sight. You’d looked over at the same time so you knew why and how Seulgi managed to tumble and trip so terribly mid-drill. She rolled her ankle so bad that as she sits next to you right now with ice on it, it looks like there’s an entire boiled egg beneath the surface of her skin. It’s kind of gross but also kind of hard to look away from. 

Back to the topic at hand, there is just something about the sheer athleticism and heaven-blessed ease with which Jungkook backflips and cartwheels across the mat that turns you into a brainless slab of goo. You’re unsurprised that Seulgi got distracted and ended up hurting herself as a result of it.

The afternoon flies by and before you know it, it’s dark outside, and you’ve finished riding the collective women’s basketball team’s ass for the day. As they disperse and leave the gym at a leisurely pace, you collect Seulgi and help her towards the gym locker room to get some fresh ice for her ankle before she journeys to visit the university nurse. 

The cheer squad has just about finished up their own practice, and one by one they begin to filter out of the gym. Yoongi waddles over to where you stand by the door, eyeing Seulgi with a knowing look.

“Got distracted at the wrong time, huh?” He asks, very much already knowing the answer. You give him a dirty look while Seulgi goes bright pink.

Yoongi adjusts the collar of his university sports jacket, puffing his chest out. “That’s our golden boy for ya,” he brags, sounding very much like one of the aunties and old women you find gossiping on the street near the markets. “He was born for cheer. It’s like he’s been tumbling since the day he was born. Probably even came out doing a backflip.”

You want to tell him to stop pulling shit out of his ass, but you can’t bring yourself to say anything when you agree so wholeheartedly. You’re saved from having to summon a response when in the next second, Yoongi gets the urge to turn and catches Jungkook red-handed on his way out of the gym. He seems in a hurry, moving almost like he’s trying to sneak out unnoticed, but halts at the unmistakable sound of Yoongi’s holler when it breaches the air.

“Ah there he is— Jungkook-ah!” Even while calling out, Yoongi somehow still has an indolent, lazy drawl. “Good job today! Also, proud of you for committing to your punishment. Keep it up!”

The poor raven-haired boy had already looked somewhat mortified at being singled out amongst the students exiting the gym, but now as Yoongi finishes speaking and his big doe eyes flick to the side and take in you and Seulgi listening in, his face very suddenly and violently erupts into a blush.

“Th-thanks,” he squeaks, nodding, the tips of his ears darkening to match his face. His eyes are flicking from you to Yoongi in such a way he almost reminds you of a scared rodent. When it becomes clear he has nothing more to say, he turns on his heel and flees in the direction of the locker room. For his sake, you don’t ogle him as he goes. There’s a time and a place, and he seems so embarrassed that you’d feel bad for checking him out right now. 

“… He’s so cute,” Yoongi remarks a few seconds after Jungkook disappears out the door, gaze still trained in the direction he’d left. “No wonder I always look over and see you drooling, y/n.”

You agree with the first part, but honestly… you could have done without that second comment. You give him the stink eye to let him know just that, before tapping Seulgi and readjusting your grip in preparation to walk once more.

“If you’re immune, Min, you’re not human,” Seulgi says, cheeky glint in her eye. Your heart warms—you can always count on her to defend you in the face of life’s meanies.

SATURDAY, WEEK 5

It’s not often you find yourself making the long, arduous trek down the street to the apartment building where Seokjin et al. live, but it does happen on the occasion. If possible, you like to make the journey in the morning or the afternoon, because there is little to no cover on the path that takes you there and the only thing you like less than being in the sun when you don’t have to is sweating.

Still, you make the trek today, even though it’s technically past the point in the morning where you would refuse. The heat starts to come anywhere from 8 to 9 o’clock, even earlier on the stinkier days. Call you lazy, but you stick by your own rules because they work and reduce your suffering considerably. 

Namjoon is one of your project partners in a random elective the two of you chose, and he was meant to give you a part of the assignment he’d been working on yesterday but, of course, forgot it. And then again today, when he was meant to drop it off on his way to work, he forgot it once more. So here you are, walking to his stupid apartment and preparing to break in because it’s due next week and you need his part to finish yours, damn it. 

Thankfully, air conditioning greets you the second you step inside the building and cools down whatever heat has managed to cling to your form from outside. Luck is on your side—no sweat today, babey! In a slightly better mood now that you’re out of the sun, you follow the path your legs have committed to memory to Namjoon’s apartment. 

Normally you’d rely on someone being home to let you in so you can ransack Namjoon’s room, but in his apologetic text he’d informed you that everyone is out and so with a great, big sigh you’d resigned yourself and dug the lockpicking set you received one Christmas out from under your bed. It’s heavy in your back pocket now as you walk down the hallway of the floor their apartment is on, already feeling like you’ve committed a crime. Before you can even throw yourself into thoughts of which tool would work best on their front door, you catch sight of something you most definitely weren’t expecting. 

There’s someone else in front of the apartment door, jiggling the doorknob and attempting to work it. You don’t know if they realise its locked and are trying their luck anyway, or whether they’ve yet to figure it out, but while their back is turned to you they have provided you with an excellent view.

Broad shoulders with tan skin peaking out from below a muscle singlet and glistening with sweat where their body catches the light. Dark curls are plastered to the back of their neck, arms out and a tattoo sleeve on one leading your gaze down its length. He’s very athletic, you gather of the stranger immediately, and you’re almost drooling at the way his bicep shifts and tenses as he tries the doorknob once more. Your gaze finally frees itself and scans over the rest of him; defined back, tiny waist, nice butt, thick thighs—

Wait. You know that waist. The sight of it bared by a skimpy cheerleading outfit is one you’ve committed to memory.

“Jungkook?” you say, feeling your stomach dip in excitement. Does it always do that when you see him? You can’t remember.

At the sound of your voice and how close it is, the male jumps in fright and lets out a noise eerily close to a squeak. He spins, slamming his back against the door and smacking a hand over his heart.

“Oh my god,” he breathes, eyes closing and head falling back against the door with a thud. The sight is borderline sinful when combined with his damp hair and sweaty form, and your thoughts threaten to take a dangerous route before you reign them in. You smack your libido back in place— down, girl! “y/n, you scared the living shit out of me.”

A moment passes before his eyes snap open and the breath leaves him in a whoosh, and he’s looking at you like a cornered rabbit, cheeks already warming in his fluster. “W-wait, y/n? What… What are you doing here?”

Cute. If you could, you think you’d pack him up and put him in your pocket.  

You ignore his question only for the sake of asking him your own—much less incriminating as a choice. “Are you trying to break into your own apartment, Mister Jungkook?”

Instantly, as you’d almost come to expect at this point, his cheeks flush cutely. 

“Wh- I, uh…” he swallows and clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “No! Kind of? I went for a jog earlier and Namjoon-hyung kind of… uh… he locked me out.”

As he speaks, you’re reminded of how much you actually like his voice. It’s smooth, melodious; even when its shaking slightly from nerves. Why is he nervous? The longer you stand in his presence the more curious you become. You kind of want to tease him a little.

You hum, a smile curling the corners of your lips and one of your brows raising.  “Ah, so he’s scorned both of us, I see. But fear not, little gumdrop!”

He’s staring at you in something akin to flustered bewilderment as you reach behind you and pull out your lockpicking kit, brandishing it like a trophy. “I have the solution!”

“…” He’s stunned into silence, it seems, but you don’t mind. The look on his face right now is super cute—you kind of want to pinch his cheeks. Okay, damn it, you can’t help it—you pinch his cheek and make a short cooing noise as you step past, preparing to help him break into his apartment. At least this way it feels less like a crime and more like a service.

(You sneak a sly look back at Jungkook as you pass him, and your heart squeezes at the sight of his cheeks flushing pink from your teasing action, eyes wide as they follow your form. This boy is gonna kill you one day.)

Usually you have a bit of trouble picking locks (you don’t do it often) but you crack this one surprisingly fast, and before you know it the door is swinging open and you’re letting out a noise of glee.

“Excellent!” you announce, before darting right in to search for what you came for. Namjoon left it conveniently on the dining table, so you dash over and grab the folder and USB before turning around to be on your merry way. 

When you return to the door, Jungkook is still standing there, tattooed hand pressed to the cheek you’d pinched – which are bright red, by the way— and his eyes somewhat dazed.

“See you at practice later, Jungkook!” you say, waving the folder to accentuate the farewell. “Don’t forget the punishment skirt! You look too good in it, it would be a crime to forget it.”

Once you’re done speaking, you turn back the way you’re walking, missing the facial expression that accompanies his flustered sputtering of a goodbye. Your stomach still flips in excitement as you retreat, a skip in your step, and you can’t help but think it wouldn’t be a bad thing if you ended up seeing more of Jungkook outside of practice.

WEDNESDAY, WEEK 6

You’re sitting in the campus sushi place, escaping the midday heat and grabbing something to eat, minding your own business. It is, though, a nice day and you don’t mind sitting back and just admiring it. This changes when a figure suddenly comes bolting towards you from a distance and nearly bowls you and the contents of your sushi container over.

“SEOKJIN!” you exclaim, barely having saved your food from a sudden and unfortunate meet & greet with the floor. You give him a glare strong enough to kill. “What the hell! My karaage chicken!!! Dude you KNOW they only make a certain amount of these per day, you almost made me drop it and I hadn’t even taken a bit yet! Honestly! You—”

“Shut! Shut up!” Seokjin grips you by the shoulders, giving you a shake; it makes your eyes lock-on to his flushed face, his breath coming in pants from his exertion. “Shut up I have something to say and it’s important!”

“Stop shaking me!” you cry, wriggling out of his grip and leaning as far back into your chair as you can to get away from this nutcase. “And what?! You finally slipped up and Namjoon found all the secret letters you write for him when you’re horny?!”

“No, better!” Seokjin makes like he’s going to grab your shoulders again and you smack his hands away. He continues, eyes alight with something akin to glee that makes him look just a little bit crazy. “I finally did it! I found out who that twerp’s crush is! You won’t beli—”

“What?!” you sputter, your gut churning for some reason. Is the sushi you ate off? “He told you? No way he would be stupid enough to tell you—”

“Hey!” the male cries, indignant. “I resent that! Also no, he didn’t technically tell me, but I have people on the inside…”

It takes a moment for you to scan through people in your head before it clicks. You gasp. “You bullied it out of his friends?! Seokjin! Taehyung and Jimin don’t deserve that!”

“I didn’t bully them! They told me of their own accord!” He points a finger at you in retribution. “Albeit, it was by accident, but I digress.”

You’re shaking your head, returning to your sushi and ignoring the odd sensations in your gut. “This is blood information, man. I don’t know if I can sit and be accomplice to—”

“It’s you!” Seokjin blurts, sticking his pink-haired head right in your face. “The twerp has a crush on you! Finally, at least one of my shipping dreams is coming true!”

You’re so shocked by the information literally thrown in your face that you honest to god almost drop your sushi, again. You stare at the male, mouth open, as you flounder to get some order back in your thoughts.

The first thing you think to say is—“What? No way. Your info is dodgy, man.”

“Look, I know you’re sensitive so I try not to say this often, but are you dumb, y/n?” Seokjin stands back now, hand on his hip.  The look he’s giving you isn’t impressed. “It makes so much sense! Why else would he sign up to cheerleading in a skirt to use his assets if it wasn’t on at the same time as whatever his crush does? Honestly, I should have seen it sooner—the way he goes bright pink every time he sees you and his eyes sparkle like an anime girl every time we mention you. I just thought he was scared of girls or had pinkeye or somethin’.”

You kind of want to smack him, but the rest of you is busy attempting to process all the information unloaded on you. Your stomach gives a giddy flip, and you decide it can only mean one thing in the wake of finding out that Jungkook’s mysterious crush is you.

Maybe, just maybe, you like him too.

…

You’re gonna pursue him. 

THURSDAY, WEEK 7

It seems that Jungkook has heard that his crush on you has been leaked, because you’ve been trying to track him down and confirm it ever since last week and he’s been avoiding you like the plague. You think you see him kicking up dust as he retreats as fast as his legs will take him around hallway corners when he sees you at the other end, you catch glimpses of him across courtyards as he spins and flees in the opposite directions. A part of you wonders whether its because he does indeed have a crush on you and is embarrassed that you know, of whether it’s because he doesn’t have a crush on you and is embarrassed that you might think he does. 

Well, you can’t know until you talk to him and it seems like you won’t be able to talk to him unless you ambush him in the men’s toilets or something. Which, by the way, isn’t something you’re going to do because even though your friends might be crazy, you’re most definitely not. 

It was even to the point that Jungkook missed the first two practices after you found out, and you have no doubt that he would have avoided you by missing even more had Yoongi not threatened him with adding a crop top to his punishment attire should he miss another practice. He’d showed up for the next one but every time he came within five metres of you he blushed and kept his eyes to the ground, fleeing as soon as he can. 

It’s a little bit frustrating, and he’s still cute when he acts all shy, but you really wish you could track him down just so you know whether its true or not.

Perhaps, with time, he’ll grow a little less skittish and let you get close enough to start a conversation. You just have to hold out hope that a moment will come that will allow you to start bridging things back together with the two of you.

FRIDAY, WEEK 7

That moment comes sooner than you expect when, just the next day, you round a corner alongside Seulgi, having just come from the women’s locker rooms, and walk straight into someone. It’s like walking into a brick wall and kind of hurts. You stumble and let out a sound in pained surprise, but manage to stay on your feet for the most part— the joy at that moment of success passes quickly when you become aware of the cool feeling seeping down your thigh and stomach.

Before even looking to see who you walked into, your gaze is directed down to see what was spilt on you— it’s light pink, and the sugary sweet scent that brushes your nose and sticky sensation that begins to make itself known on your skin are something you recognise instantly.

Strawberry milk.

You look up in something akin to horror, but the expression all but falls from your face when you see who the culprit is.

Jungkook stands there looking very much like a deer caught in headlights, drink carton crumpled and empty in his hand now that its contents are all over your front. As you gaze at him you watch the tip of his ears turn bright red, eyes wide and so unguarded you swear you can see the thoughts whipping through his mind beyond them. You also see the instant regret and mortification that washes over his boyish features as he realises what has just happened and who he has spilt his drink on.

“y-y/n—” he stutters, voice caught in his throat. Whatever he was planning on saying is quickly overpowered by an obnoxious voice from his side.

You hadn’t even noticed Yoongi was walking alongside Jungkook until you hear him speak, “Wow, you know what you were coming around that corner so hard and fast that this is on you, y/n.”

When Yoongi first started talking, Jungkook had seemed relieved, but now a sense of panic has taken over his features. 

“N-no! I am so sorry! This was my fault, I shouldn’t have had it open when I couldn’t even drink it yet. I just really like strawberry milk, and…” He’s so endearingly remorseful as he speaks, big puppy eyes looking apologetically into your own like he’s searching for any hint of forgiveness there to spare.

For a moment you’re absolutely blindsided by the way he just made your heart squeeze in your chest with how damn cute he is, but you recover just in time to catch it as the shocked expression on Yoongi’s face melds into something devious and fitting for his bastardly title.

“Right, he’s right, totally our bad,” Yoongi says, doing a complete 180 and bewildering both you and Seulgi beside you. “Wow, look at your pants, totally soaked through man. Here, come with me— it’s only fair we help grab you something to change into.”

“What—” you don’t get to finish before the cat-faced bastard grabs you by the arm and begins dragging you down the hall in the direction you came from. Seulgi and Jungkook remain in place, stunned by the turn in events. 

“Jungkook, head to practice and get them started! I want some pyramid practice, and then some tumbling from you and the others. Chop chop!” — is all Yoongi throws over his shoulder in dismissal, dragging you where you now realise is one of the other locker rooms. You gape at him as he walks straight up to the one that has been locked for months and opens it with a key.

Catching your expression, he shrugs. “Sometimes you just need a place of your own to hoard things.”

You don’t understand what he’s talking about until you step in and see a table in the corner near the doorway piled high with first aid supplies, twiggy sticks and energy drinks. Your bewildered subsequent scan of the room for more treasured objects is cut short when a lump of clothing smacks you in the face.

You just barely manage to fumble it into your grasp, unable to swallow your groan when you see what it is from the pattern alone.

“It’s the only thing spare,” Yoongi says, radiating true goblin energy. You don’t trust him as far as you can throw him right now but you don’t know where to look to disprove him. “Try not to get my cheerleaders too worked up.”

You have an inkling as to why he’s done this from his words, but can’t confirm it right now. You huff, moving off to one of the stalls. 

“If people get flashed, that’s on you.”

Ten minutes later sees you back in the open gymnasium with cool air brushing your legs that usually only get to see the light of day through rips in your jeans. You set your team to their tasks and drills already, so now you’re left alone with your thoughts. You know for sure now why Yoongi made you change into the cheerleading skirt.

Because ever since you walked out in it and nearly made him fall flat on his face in shock, Jungkook hasn’t been able to keep the blush off his cheeks or his eyes away from you for more than a few minutes at a time. You feel slightly empowered, contrary to how you thought the dangerously short piece of clothing was going to make you feel. 

You have a nice body, you’re comfortable admitting it, and the way that your unplanned flaunting of it seems to be affecting Jungkook… well it’s a nice stroke of the ego, you won’t lie, but it also makes your stomach flip giddily. God, you want him. You’ve always thought he was cute but ever since he joined cheer and rocked up in that skirt like a sweet, hot fool, it was over for you. He’s so… ugh.

Trucking through the practice of your team is, for once, a struggle. It’s so hard not to look over every few seconds to catch Jungkook when you can feel his gaze on you, and you know that once you give in you won’t be able to help being distracted afterwards. It’s a miracle you get through to the end of it while remaining sane. 

As your practice wraps up for the day, you allow yourself a glimpse to the side at last. What you see is a sweaty, panting Jungkook, the muscles of his arms straining as he holds up a brunette you vaguely recall as Tzuyu above his head. Wow, you’re actually a little startled at how much arousal just washed through you— is this normal? Maybe you’re more whipped than you thought. You don’t know.

What you do know, however, is that you want that boy, and right now especially you want to mess with him. Call it a con of being around such bastardous friends all the time, but you’re really feeling the urge. You barely manage to hold yourself back, marvelling at the animal he seems to reduce you to with just a flex of his bicep.

The practice for your basketball team finishes before cheerleading; Yoongi is a ruthless coach and relentless when it comes to formations and perfecting routines. More often than not their practices end long after yours. As your girls begin to filter out of the gymnasium, the cheer squad are still going. You make to follow after, but your name is called from the other side of the gym by a voice you recognise but know instantly shouldn’t be here. 

“y/n! Come here! Don’t ignore me!” Seokjin is the fiend in question, hollering at such an unmistakable frequency that you couldn’t ignore it if you tried. It’s like he’s followed in the footsteps of cats and has pinpointed the exact frequency that a baby’s cry is at, and is now using it to his advantage. You turn, wary, and see him waving like a dumbass. “Come here! Don’t make me pspspsps!”

Now annoyed, you stomp over if only so you can get within beating range. As soon as you reach a few feet away he ducks behind Yoongi though, so you don’t get to follow through on your caveman instincts to beat him over the head with a rock.

“What?” you ask, giving him a stinky look. “Are you like, stalking me or something? Why are you so obsessed with me?”

You can tell he wants to laugh, but his instinct to rile you up overpowers the humour of what you said. “You think you’re worth stalking? I don’t need to stalk you to know that your day consists almost entirely of eating, shitting, and staring at a certain ass.”

Well, he has you there. You shrug, “I’m a simple girl.”

Seokjin is momentarily bewildered that you didn’t rise to his bait and Yoongi chokes on his laughter beside you, the sound coming out squeaky. You’re glad someone is laughing, it makes your dick hard when people find you funny. Again, you’re a simple girl.

“Nice outfit, by the way,” Seokjin says. Apparently it doesn’t take him long to recover, and he’s already shifted topics. 

Yoongi, who had broken away to guide his team for a moment, chimes back in at the taller male’s comment. “It’s all apart of the keikaku, man. Everything is going perfectly. My golden boy is almost too fun to torment. I’ve tasted power and now I don’t know how to stop.”

“Who?” Seokjin asks, more out of habit than anything, before looking over to Yoongi’s minions and letting out a sound of realisation. “Ahh… Mister Jungkook.”

You swear you see the male in question, who is waiting his turn to begin the tumbling routine Yoongi has changed them onto, stiffen. You’re not sure whether it is a trick of the light or not, though, because in the next second he’s shuffling forward to second in line, juggling his weight from foot to foot with restless energy. His eyes are trained on his teammates flipping across the matts. 

“So you know too? y/n, you big-mouthed whore!” Seokjin exclaims, pinning you with an exaggerated look of scandal. Jungkook trips slightly in his step as he moves to the front of the line, barely a few metres away.

You don’t bother defending yourself, since Yoongi speaks before you can anyway. “That y/n likes Jungkook and has wanted to peg his cute ass since forever? Yeah, I know.”

The timing of Yoongi’s response is truly unfortunate. As he started speaking, Jungkook began his run up— and it seems that whatever snippet he heard as he started were enough to throw him off completely. He goes into the front flip kind of wonky, and you have a feeling of dread creep up as you watch him.

He doesn’t do the mid-air turns he is meant to, and instead goes to land after just one flip— the timing is off, though, and your breath hisses through your teeth and you physically cringe as you watch his ankle roll upon landing. 

“Ah SHIT!” he yelps, quickly dropping to the mat and removing pressure from his foot. You feel frozen as you watch, a large number of his teammates running over and asking him if he’s okay.

“Oh feck,” Yoongi says, checking his watch as he mutters to himself. “Shit. Okay we need to practice and only have the gym for another forty-five minutes, but he needs that looked at asap. Who…”

Barely a split-second passes before he’s looking right at you imploringly, with an inappropriately devious glint in the back of his eyes. 

“y/n, you’re free and you have first aid training right? Can you take him to get that wrapped and iced up?” He’s not even done asking you before he’s pushing you in the direction of the male currently curled on the floor. “That room should still be open— I forgot to lock it earlier.”

“Wait, I actually have—” you’re about to let him know about the mountain of schoolwork you have to catch up on, but of course he’s not having any of it. He’s already barking at his squad.

“Okay, everyone, back off and back to tumbling! y/n here will take care of our golden boy, we have the gym for the next forty-five minutes and we’re gonna make the most of it, damn it!”

Yoongi abandons you at Jungkook’s side, and at his command the rest of the cheerleader begrudgingly disperse— you think you catch a few of the female ones giving you the stink eye at their lost opportunity, and you know it shouldn’t stroke your ego but still it does. 

“I guess this is how the Kookie crumbled, huh,” you say, embarrassed that he could have heard all of what Yoongi said and attempting to cope using the classic— humour. 

Jungkook, who had turned his wide eyes and red face to you the second you started talking, now seems to be blushing harder. Evidently, for a number of reasons, he is mortified. It’s like he’s trying to hide behind the long curls that have fallen into his face. Needless to say, it’s not successful, and now both of you are embarrassed. One of you needs to take the lead.

But right now neither of you are wearing the pants.

“Alright, let’s get that looked at,” you say, wincing as you look at his ankle already beginning to swell. “Arms up.”

He obeys instantly and without question, and you’re torn between the primal powers within you wanting to both cuddle him and to drop your panties then and there. 

Getting Jungkook to a standing position while he can only use one leg is harder than you could have imagined, but you know that there’s no way you would have been able to lift him had he not helped you carry his weight. Once he’s upright and his arm is around your shoulder (still panting slightly and glistening with sweat, as you’re trying not to think about) you begin the arduous journey to the locker room Yoongi showed you earlier. 

Jungkook doesn’t really say anything during the trip there, and neither do you— except he has an excuse, considering he’s probably in a fair bit of pain right now. You don’t have an excuse, except that you’re trying desperately not to think about how you can feel each hard line of his body against you right now. It’s a whole-brain engaging kind of activity.

Thankfully, the room is unlocked as Yoongi said, and you grab a towel to lay across one of the cleaner looking benches on the far side of the room— just because its cleaner than the others doesn’t mean it’s clean, per se. You smile when you see Jungkook’s thankful expression.

“Right,” you say, staying in front of where he’s sitting for a moment as you shake your arms out; the boy really is just all muscle, honestly. “Pop your ankle up on the bench, and I’ll grab some ice and stuff to wrap it.”

Jungkook nods, obeying wordlessly. His cheeks still are tainted the slightest pink, and he’s making a point to avoid meeting your gaze. Fighting a smile, you move to Yoongi’s stash and grab what you need, spotting some high-end painkillers and immediately adding them to the pile in your arms.

When you return to his side, you seat yourself on the bench beside his leg— thankfully, they’re wide enough that neither your butt nor Jungkook’s leg has to be sacrificed for the fit. You go through the motions with him, poking and prodding and bending to assess the damage; it’s just a bad sprain, but damn if each watery look he gets at the pain doesn’t make you want to coddle him to death. 

Surprisingly, he’s still silent as you go about icing and wrapping his ankle. You contemplated filling the silence but you’re not good at chit chat or small talk, so refrain and settle for humming softly instead. Considering the rollercoaster of feelings he’s spun you through today, you’re almost disappointed that a wrap on his ankle is all that’s going to come of this. 

Which is stupid, of course. You know. You digress.

You’re still somewhat disappointed as you finish up, popping the excess bandage back in its container. “Okay! You’ll need to…”

You make the mistake of meeting his gaze, and for once he doesn’t shy away from it— there’s something about them, the endless chocolate depths and the doe-eyed look, that completely disarms you for a moment. Blinking, it takes all your might to stop yourself from studying as you continue. “Ahem, uh… you’ll need to keep it elevated, when possible. Compressing it is ideal. Also, for swelling, ice it for 20-30 minutes every 2-3 hours for the first day or so…”

He blinks up at you, and you smile. “Any questions?”

Something intriguing crosses his gaze and he bites his lip, flushing slightly. Oh, he is doing a number on your willpower. You need to get out of here.

“Yeah, uh…” He clears his throat, continuing straight away. You watch even more colour rush to his cheeks, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. “About earlier… when I stacked it… Was what Yoongi said true?”

Well. You were not… expecting that. For a moment you’re stunned into silence, self control hanging by a thread. “What… Yoongi said?”

Jungkook gives you a look like he can’t believe you’re making him say it. “That you, um…”

Humiliated but deciding to face it head on, you ask him with your own cheeks heating, “Are you asking about the pegging or the, uh… the liking you part?”

To your surprise, Jungkook chokes and stiffens in place, eyes shooting wide and face and ears going beet red. “I, um… I only heard the liking part…”

OH. Well. You kind of want to die, but… at least now he knows?

 …You’re gonna throw yourself off a bridge.

He must mistake the cause of your silence for something else, because he seems to panic. “B-because, um, I know you know how I feel, and it’s okay if you don’t um— I was just wondering—”

In the midst of his spiel, you take a seat on the bench, closer to him than you were last time. It only makes him grow more flustered before you press a finger to his lips to shush him. He gets the message and falls silent instantly, making your heart skip a beat at his ready obedience. God, are you an animal?! Really?!

“I was trying to track you down to confirm it, you know,” you say, shoving your embarrassment into a box in the far reaches of your mind. Time to swallow your pride.  “But you kept avoiding me.”

Jungkook’s eyes are still wide. “Oh… sorry.”

You smile at his soft, uttered apology. Testingly, tentatively, you shift your hand and rest it on his hip. His whole body stiffens once more, but its more in surprise than discomfort. “What would you do if it was true, hm?”

Like a deer caught in headlights, he’s momentarily speechless. When your thumb rubs against the hard line of his hip bone, drawing a shudder, he jerks back into motion.

“Oh my god, you—” he’s dazed before he narrows his eyes at you, voice dropping to a whisper that’s somewhat tinged with hurt. “Are you teasing me?”

You manage to hold back the laugh but can’t help the smile that rises at his words. “I always get the urge to tease you, Jungkook, but it’s not to be cruel.” You lean forward, holding his gaze. “I probably never grew out of that kindergarten stage.”

It takes a second for what you said to sink in. The way that hope enters his eyes is so cute that you’re humiliated at the urge to squeal that rises. “So, you…”

It’s embarrassing to say the words out loud, especially considering the filth running through your mind right now, and you can’t quite bring yourself to. Teasingly, you bring your other hand to his thigh, brushing the edge of the skirt with your thumb and enjoying the way he shivers. “It’s embarrassing to say out loud, so if you want to hear it, you’re gonna have to work for it.” 

The soft, excited gasp he lets out emboldens you to carry out your next action— you move the hand on his hip, brushing your fingertips up the side of his slim waist before bringing them back down to rest over his crotch. 

To your complete and utter surprise, there is already some firmness there that greets you. At your curious gaze, he flushes pink.

“It’s the skirt,” he confesses, averting his gaze to your lap for the briefest second. “You look really good in it…”

Not that your ego needs more stroking, but you’re happy to let it happen anyway. You hum, beginning to move your hand— he stifles a gasp.

“I know,” you say, grinning. It’s ridiculous how your stomach flips, arousal beginning to trickle into your abdomen and ache in the apex of your thighs. “I could feel you looking at me. I caught you a few times, too.”

He’s embarrassed, you can tell, but the current situation doesn’t leave much room for dignity as it is anyway. Still, you can’t help but tease him some more, voice soft as you rub over his growing bulge and lean closer. “Do you always look at me, Jungkook?”

He squirms, a gasp slipping out before he attempts to send you a glare. “This is embarrassing,” he whines. You raise a brow, increasing the pressure of your hand, and he is quick to amend his response in a whisper, “…Yes.”

“And what do you imagine, when you look at me?” you ask, unable to deny the thrill running through your veins and lighting heat in your abdomen. You pause your ministrations only to move your hand to the top of his skirt and slip beneath the material. This time a moan slips out before he can stop it. “Is it things like this?”

He lets his head fall back against the wall, looking at you through hazy, lidded eyes. “Yes,” he admits, and for how readily he supplied the answer you reward him by slipping your hand beneath the rest of the layers over his hips and wrapping your fingers around his hardening length.

He whines— actually whines— and rolls his hips into your hand, thick thigh tensing beneath the grip of your other hand. The resulting wash of arousal that floods over you is so sudden it almost makes you dizzy.

“Oh, you’re a good boy,” you mutter it without much thought, but surprise filters through you when you feel his length twitch and flush with heat in your hold at the words. Ah— he likes a bit of praise, does he? You slide your free hand up his thigh, working the waistband of his skirt and bike shorts down until they rest just past the beginning of his thighs. It’s like you’re looking at a work of art, you marvel slightly— the curls that begin to trail down a little below his belly button, the sculpted line of his hip bones and the hints of his abs that show as his body tenses. You’re just one woman.

“Does it feel as good as you imagined, Jungkook?” you aimed to speak louder but it comes out sort of breathy. You trail your fingers down the tan skin of his abdomen before gripping the material of his bottoms and using the moment to free his length.

If you didn’t have such a firm grip on it, you know it would have sprung back against his stomach— you try not to let your surprise show, either, because you could feel that he was packing, but seeing it is another thing and your stomach flips in giddy anticipation. Jungkook’s chest heaves as his breath quickens, eyes boring into you and hands bunching in the material of the punishment skirt. You stroke your hand along his length, pressing your thumb along the underside and relishing in the shudder it elicits.

“y/n,” he whines softly, face flushing as his cock twitches in your hold. Whether he’s forgotten you even asked a question or simply is too overwhelmed to answer right now, you don’t know. 

As for how you’re doing— you’re so turned on right now that in all honesty you don’t know what to do with yourself. A solution comes to mind quickly and you don’t have the usual self control you do to stop yourself. 

Mindful of his injured leg, you rise, keeping your grip on him as you do so. His lidded gaze follows you, soft gasps escaping him all the while.

“Give me your leg,” you instruct, relishing how quickly he listens. Presented with his thigh, you swing one of your legs over the other side of the bench and rest on it so that as little weight as possible is on his bad leg, your knees brushing his hips. As soon as you’re lowered, you can’t help but gasp and roll your hips— the only thing separating you and the smooth skin and hard muscle of his thigh is the thin layer of your damp panties, and the stimulation on your clit makes your entire core throb in arousal.

Apparently this is also one of the things he’s imagined, because Jungkook lets out a low, gasping moan and rolls his hips up into your hand— which, of course, makes his thigh muscles tense and shift, rubbing oh so nicely against your clit. You almost fall off from the jolt of pleasure that shoots up your spine, free hand shooting to grab his bicep, “Ah, Jungkook!”

He apparently has the sense of mind to support you by using the arm in your hold to reach and grip your hip. Generous amounts of precum have started to bead at his tip, and you drag your hand up his girth, collecting it on your thumb and smearing it down his length for lubrication. It elicits a whine, another roll of his hips, and like that you settle into a rhythm of sorts.

“y/n.” Each gasp and moan he lets out have to be specially designed to ruin you, you decide. He seeks your gaze with hazy, lust-ridden eyes. “Please kiss me.”

It’s a brazen request coming from him of all people, and you’re all too happy to oblige. You lean forward, the rock of your hips making you shudder, and connect his lips with your own— he’d sought your kiss as you did so, craning his neck forward and awaiting your lips. It’s a heated kiss from the beginning, given the situation— you don’t fight for dominance so much as assume it from the start. Each press of your tongue, graze of your teeth, has a new sound tumbling from his throat and into your mouth. It makes your heart race even harder than it already was.

It doesn’t take long for tension to begin to build in your abdomen, and you know if you’re already feeling it then he must be even closer. Not wanting this to end just yet, you force yourself to slow your hand down, breaking the kiss and shifting to press your mouth to his neck.

“Wh-what—” he gasps, shuddering as your thumb plays with his slit, rhythm slowed to a stop. Both of you are panting, almost, and you suckle a mark into the junction of his neck before pulling back with a grin.

“Surely that isn’t all you’ve imagined, Jungkook.” You lean forward, pressing a brief kiss to his mouth before pulling back— the way he chases your lips makes your heart squeeze. “What now? Be a good boy, tell me.”

Far from being embarrassed at this point and all but a slave to the haze of lust in the air, Jungkook’s breath hitches and he responds, somewhat tentative if anything, “… ride me.”

“Good boy,” you breathe, offering him a proud smile. He preens beneath your fond look.

You shift, and you think that he must have expected you to stand up fully and remove your clothes, or at least your bottoms, but to his surprise you simply shuffle up and reach beneath your skirt, slipping your panties aside and aligning his member with your entrance. You’re so turned on that you’ve soaked through your underwear, and you know you’ve smeared enough precum along his length that lubrication will be no problem. So you simply lower yourself down until his head parts your lips and begins to sink into you.

At the sheer size of him even as just the tip enters your cunt, you have to halt, gasping, “Fuck!”

If he wanted to respond, you don’t really give him time to; as soon as you get your bearings you continue sinking down onto him. There is a slight burn, of course, but you’re so turned on that it fades quicker than you can register. The sensation of him, the throb, his girth and the way he splits your walls, stretching you more and more as you seat yourself on him— it’s indescribable, and all you can offer is that it feels so good you swear tears are gonna prick at your eyes. From the look on his face, brows scrunched and mouth parted as a long, low groan slips out, you know it must feel just as good for him.

When the back of your thighs press against the top of his his and he’s fully sheathed in you, you feel like you’re about to lose your mind— this position has him so deep in your pussy that with each miniscule shift the tip of his cock presses against a spot that sends delicious jolts of pleasure up your spine. Honestly, if you weren’t so intent on seeing this through, you think you could cum from that sensation alone. 

Even as you’re in a mess of pleasure and a haze of desire, you can’t help but tease him some more. You clench your insides, rolling your hips— the sharp, lilting moan he lets out makes your stomach flip. “What now, baby boy?”

You hold his hips down with your hand, feeling them twitch with the urge to rock up into you. A long, drawn groan escapes him. “Do you want to see me? More of me? Or do you want to feel me?”

You take his hand into your hold and guide it up to your chest, slipping it beneath your shirt and bra to cup your breast. His breath hitches, lashes fluttering against his cheekbones as he blinks and attempts to clear the haze from his vision. You relish in the control you have over him until his thumb brushes your nipple and he pinches it, tweaking it instinctively. A moan tears from you, the shock of pleasure that results making you clench around him again; his free hand scrambles for purchase against your thigh, fingers digging in as pleasure washes over him in turn.

Your breath is coming a little faster now. Leaving his hand at your chest, you move it to drag up his neck before threading your fingers in the damp curls at the back of his neck. Finding a firm grip, you tug his head back ever so lightly— it elicits a new moan that you haven’t heard yet, and you really begin to think this boy will be your undoing. 

“What do you want?” you ask again, rolling your hips once more. It isn’t fair of you, you know, since you can hardly think yourself from the sensations. “You want me to move, baby boy?”

He nods, attempting to speak through the moan caught in his throat. “Please… fuck me, y/n.”

Well, who are you to say no to that?

Happy to oblige, you engage your thighs and begin to rise— the sensation of him dragging against your walls makes both of you gasp, and you almost falter in your movements from the feeling alone. Gathering your wits as best as you can, you continue your movements, successfully rising and then seating yourself once more. Unable to withhold much longer, you roll your hips and begin to set the two of you into a rhythm.

You stopped paying heed to the noises escaping you a while ago, but you don’t doubt that the sinful sounds tumbling from Jungkook’s mouth as you ride him are a large contributor to the way the tension in your abdomen quickly begins to knot and bundle once more.

Even with as heavenly as it feels, it’s hard to keep up momentum when your thighs begin to burn. Thankfully, Jungkook has more than enough stamina in his thigh muscles for the both of you, and when he senses your fatigue, he brings his grip to your hips to hold them in place before rocking his own up and beginning to fuck up into you.

Needless to say, the pace he sets is much faster and much harder than the one you had. Swears tumble softly from your mouth at the change in intensity of pleasure as it shoots through you, orgasm already approaching much faster than anticipated. Your hands come to grip his on your hips with a cry of his name, knees turning to jelly. 

Movement against your hand surprises you, but not as much as the sensation of Jungkook’s hand shifting to thread his fingers with yours. You honestly feel your heart burst, and as he fucks up into you that bit harder you can’t help the way you clutch his hand like a lifeline, the sweet moment quick to pass but most definitely not forgotten. 

“G-gonna cum,” you gasp, eyes closing and allowing the slap of skin and Jungkook’s gasping moans to overtake your senses. You don’t forget to indulge him in some praise. “Such a g-good boy, making me feel so g-good.”

He whines at your words, and right as your pleasure approaches its peak you feel his hips stutter and slam up into yours harder than all the times before. The stimulation of that spot deep inside of you is all that’s needed to push you into the throes of your orgasm, and it washes over you more intensely than you’ve ever felt before as you clench and tense with a cry of his name.

Distantly, you feel his own grip on you tighten, and his hips still as they’re pressed against yours. Warmth floods your core, cock throbbing as he empties inside you, and you swear you hear the softest of confessions uttered to the air as he joins you in your high.

He comes down before you do, although you’re not far behind him, and for a moment you sit in place, panting and attempting to come back to your senses. He’s softened inside you slightly, but when you shift and clench on instinct as you do so, feeling cum slide down your thighs, he twitches  and throbs inside you.

Taken aback, your gaze whips to him and now that his shame has returned to him, he has the decency to blush. Well, apparently Jeon Jungkook’s stamina really is no joke. Maybe he really was born to be an athlete.

“Greedy. You want more?” There’s a teasing lilt to your voice, and a thrilling mix of fear and excitement dances in his eyes.

“y/n—” he rasps, desperate. You slide off of him, making both of you groan, but return to your previous position on his thigh. He moans as he feels his own cum leak out of you and onto his skin. When your hand comes to wrap around his slick member, he jolts and whines.

“You wanna tell me what you said just before?” you ask, beginning to twist your wrist and stroke his cock ever so slowly. He shakes his head, whether at your question or the overstimulation, you’re not sure— you know it’s probably a bit of both though, considering he twitches in your hold.

“‘S embarrassing,” he murmurs, back arching as you increase your pace just a little. “Ah, y/n!”

“I see. You know, I think I can get you to cum again,” you say, changing tactics. 

Jungkook shakes his head, strands of his raven hair plastered to his forehead in sweat. “I can’t—”

“You should tell me,” you say, teasing lilt to your tone. He whines, rocking his hips into and then away from the sensations. 

When he shakes his head again, letting it fall back against the wall and baring the column of his throat to you, you jump on his acceptance of the situation. You pick up speed, rolling your wrist and moving in tune with the shifting of his body. It doesn’t take very long before his oversensitivity throws him into another orgasm, stronger than the last but dryer. The few beads of cum that escape seem ever so tantalising as they roll down his length, drawing your gaze.

“You gonna tell me now?” you ask, already knowing the answer. Jungkook slumps against the wall, breathing heavy and sweat glistening on his golden skin. He looks at you through heavily lidded eyes.

“It’s still embarrassing,” he whines, breathy in his exertion.

Right, well. You know what he said, but you want to hear him say it with his own mouth once more and you’ll stay here all night to make that happen if you need to.

Of course, it’s not until a while and another heated moment or two later that Jungkook realises this and gives in.

His confession is so much sweeter on your ears the second time, and of course, as promised, you reward him with your own. It’s worth it for the way it makes his eyes shine, you think. 

Jeon Jungkook really has you well and truly whipped. 

a/n: thank u for reading and i hope u liked it! im super excited to have completed my first commission and would really appreciate it if u let me know what u think by sending me an ask and liking & rbing this with ur thoughts!! i read & appreciate everything!! thank u !! love u !! peace out !! :D

[magioftheseas]

I'll argue that many of Tenko's worst issues stem from the translation that changed her tone from an original childish one while still respectful of the men characters, to an incredibly aggressive one and that changed her character's perception more than the changes to Gonta ever did. From her ftes it's obvious she is not used to live w people in her age and had troubles controlling her emotions from childhood and way too gullible but doesn't hold actual hatred for men, it was all taught and she is just scared of losing her power. Her writing is not perfect but the localization fumbled it horribly with their choices and borderline terfy language

I mean she still explicitly says that trans women are women at least, even if it's intended as a joke. I personally don't mind how aggressive she is considering...how the guys can be.

Like, trying to be respectful while in the same universe as Souda and Teruteru is just...asking for a lot, and I can't say I had a lot of patience for some of the guys in v3, either especially when Salmon Mode has like, all the gross dialogue options available for Tenko. It's still written pretty badly and the localization does not help ("male degenerates" is stupid and clunky, really wish they came up with something else) though...

All that said, when discussing her concept, Kodaka says, "The keywords for the character formation were “girl practicing a Japanese sport”, then “man-hating”" (source). Reading through it, I really want to say that "man-hating" in general is viewed pretty differently like, culturally, comparing Kodaka and a more "Western" perspective. (At least if you're online.) So I don't think the localization is fully to blame here as expecting the writers (much less the players) to see things the exact same way as Kodaka is a little...unreasonable. At the very least to me, Tenko still comes across as naive but well-meaning as she still shows she can be nice to the guys on occasion. She's more abrasive, but I do not think she was butchered as badly as Gonta. Sorry, anon.

You're also talking to someone who, uh, hates Tenko's backstory so I prefer never thinking about it ever. I find it infuriatingly dumb.