#businessmen should not be allowed to run things i think

[myothertardisisonthemun]

Can video game launchers just die? There's no good reason i should have to run some crummy, laggy, advertisement riddled, useless pseudo-website just to make a game run. For a game that runs fine entirely on my computer, there's no good reason I should need to log into an account, or connect to the internet.

What happens when the checking server closes down? What about when you want to play somewhere outside the city? They're so slow too, even the ones with minimal news and rubbish take longer to launch than the actual games.

Anti-Piracy? This is making me want to pirate to avoid this bs. I just downloaded Tor.

I don't mind online videogame stores, but the launcher is the worst development in recent history.

[puppyeared]

i feel like im not making any sense but does anyone else feel like there are stories that let u run with them and ones that spell everything out for you

[bird-inacage]

The Heart Killers Trailer: Initial Observations (FirstKhao Edition)

I'd like to thank Jesus, Buddha, Santa, Thor, whatever holy BL spirits reside above, and all hail our lord and saviour P'Jojo. This exceeded my expectations of what was coming and then some. So here are my initial takeaways from the trailer that blew my head clean off.

General premise goes: By night, Fadel and Bison are assassins for hire, but they only kill who they deem are the 'bad guys' (most likely corrupt politicians, sketchy businessmen and the like). By day they run a seemingly ordinary restaurant. A cop asks tattoo artist Kant for his help is getting these two caught. He agrees on the basis that this will clear his criminal record. In order to keep Fadel distracted from his advances on Bison, Kant convinces his mechanic friend Style to woo him. I expect to see cat-and-mouse, games of deception type plot here which should be really good fun.

FIRST IMPRESSIONS: BISON

Aside from the fact that Bison kills for a living, he actually seems like a sweetheart. He comes across as the more jovial, friendly and optimistic of the two brothers. He has no hesitation in offering to make special accommodations for Kant's dietary preferences. He seems to fondly prod his brother to open up to people, and to allow 'sunshine' into his life.

Fadel says, "Because I'm selective, not easy like you". "In this line of work, don't trust people too easily", a signposted concern that his little brother may struggle on this front. Seems to make a point of warning him to use his head rather than his heart.

Bison also tells Kant that his trust once lost means the person is question may as well be dead to him. If he does tend to trust easily, any betrayal would be understandably much more hurtful in his eyes.

FIRST IMPRESSIONS: KANT

Kant's ulterior motive is what brings him to Bison in the first place. The two supposedly have a one night stand, which leads to Kant falling in love with him. Whilst both parties are hiding who they really are, and what they're really up to, Kant appears increasingly guilty and conflicted by this. "What if I'm not who you think I am. Would you hate me then?" But on the other hand his feelings of guilt go hand in hand with the knowledge that Bison's capture or downfall would be his ticket to get what he wants. A decision that has him trapped. He seems to question whether he should trust Bison and whether that will come back to bite him. "My brother always says, don't trust anyone too easily. Otherwise, you end up being the victim."

It also speaks volumes that a cop would approach Kant with this proposition. It means Kant is clearly very competent at what he does, and has side-hustled as a vigilante before. So Kant must be pretty cunning or smart. For example he appears to knock his knife off the table in the restaurant to test Bison's reflexes.

RELATIONSHIP DYNAMIC

There's definitely a connecting theme of secrecy. Their intimacy is kept in secret due to Bison claiming his brother will kill them both if he finds out. Bison is keeping his murderous activities a secret (for obvious reasons). Kant is keeping his investigative activities a secret.

We can obviously expect this to all come to a head when the truth is revealed and identities are fully out in the open. Can Kant accept Bison for what he does and his lifestyle, potentially forgoing the possibility of clearing his record, in order to protect him? Can Bison forgive Kant for hiding his true motives, and trust him again - at the risk of both himself and his brother?

There will be a clear point of convergence between these two, when Bison starts to consider changing his life, if it means staying in Kant's. This echoes how Kant wants to clear his criminal record, perhaps in an attempt to wipe his slate clean so he can finally move on from whatever life he led before. There's a shared vision of moving away from the lifestyles that are bad for us.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS

STYLE / AESTHETICS: One thing P'Jojo knows how to do so well is create a distinct sense of style and atmosphere. This man is a pro at combining the right set design, styling, music and ambience to create a really identifiable flavour that is instantly recognisable. The music in this trailer is a friggin' BOP.

THE EFFING TATTOOS: I will say this till the end of time, but First as Yok was one of my favourite things ever. And seeing First with tattoos again just made me weak in the knees in all the best ways possible.

LEATHER GALORE: Khaotung in leather jackets. That's it. That's my observation. And I was staring. Very appreciatively may I add.

Also, the fact that Khao, who looks noticeably dinky next to the hulking giants of this cast is called Bison. BISON.

[weird-an]

Angel!Argyle dominates Demon!Billy :3

tw: Billy is missing one wing

Billy has been tempting humans for centuries now. To be honest, it's fucking boring. He'll bat his eyelashes, play with a curl of his blond hair and get them to do everything he wants - or rather, has to.

At least he doesn't have to do stupid crossroad deals anymore. These are boring and lonely. Being able to roam San Diego is lovely. Even if it sometimes means sucking it up to businessmen who are so greedy they'd end up in hell either way. To be honest Billy gets them a "skip the line" ticket.

"Thank you," the guy says, after he sealed his fate with a handshake and the nudge he needed to betray his company and leave the country. "You're a real angel."

"I've been called that." Billy grins, showing all his teeth, ignoring the shiver the word sends down his spine. It's not even a lie - thought that had been ages ago and he can't remember heaven, just a fleeting feeling of light and feeling out of place.

He watches the business suit leaving and decides that this is enough work for at least a month. Neil will hate his report either way, so fuck him. Time to get drunk.

"You shouldn't let him call you an angel," a warm voice behind him says.

Billy sighs. Of course, once he decided to carpe the fucking diem, one of heaven's killjoys shows up.

"Why? You're going to tell the big guy upstairs on me?" Billy sticks his tongue out. He has never met this angel. But he knows one when he sees one.

He's pretty. Black hair nearly reaching his hips and a smile so bright it's like Billy can see his halo.

"No," the angel grins. "But I don't like lies."

"Lying comes with the job - and you should mind your own business," Billy sneers. It's exhausting. Hell wants this, heaven wants that and Billy just wants a fucking break.

The angel steps closer. A knowing look on his face - and Billy isn't quite sure, what he knows.

They are in the middle of a bar and no one looks at them. It's disturbing. Billy needs to be looked at or hell will swallow him whole and never spit him out again.

There's an herby smell surrounding the guy, almost like - Billy frowns. There's a joint tugged behind the angel's ear.

"What kind of angel smokes weed?" he blurts out.

"What kind of demon likes to be called angel?" the angel retorts. He puts his hand on Billy's shoulder, thumb stroking the pulse Billy has learned to control after he crashed down to earth - but that now is running wild.

"I don't like it," he says. It sounds meek, even in his own ears. Neil would sent him to the pit for it.

"I don't like lies," the angel repeats, voice still warm and weirdly friendly. "It's not natural for me."

It's not natural for Billy either. It's a second skin that hurts every day, one he needs to survive, one he loathes.

His hand leaves Billy's shoulder, cupping his cheek. A touch that doesn't hurt, a touch that's soaked in mercy and goodness and all the things that aren't for Billy. It burns and Billy wants more.

"Fuck," Billy groans. Shame burns next to longing, for something he can't quite put his finger on. An angel of all possible beings seeing right through him.

"What's your name?"

"Billy," he says. He isn't William, he has never been William, no matter how many times heaven and then later Neil wanted him to be.

"My name is Argyle," the angel says. "Can you try to be good for me?"

Billy wants. It's what sent him away, what made him an outcast even in hell. It's what he has never been allowed to.

"I can't." Argyle's other hand is on his throat, not choking, giving only a slight squeeze. The stars Billy has watched for aeons dance before his eyes. "You know I can't."

He's a demon and even before he wasn't enough. He is all but good.

The bar around them fades and they are in a cabin, hell know where, lush plants, soft pillows and vibrant colors everywhere. It must be Argyle's place. Tension bleeds out of Billy's shoulders.

"I think you can." Argyle's hand stops caressing his cheek and grips Billy's curls. Tugs them, so hard pain starts blooming, but soft enough that it's sweet.

"You're an angel" he says, because there's a heat beginning to boil in his lower belly, searing hot. "You shouldn't..."

"Find joy?" Argyle asks. "Make you feel good?"

His dark eyes finds Billy's. "Can I make you feel good?"

"Yeah," Billy breathes, the first confession he has spoken in years. He needs to be, he wants to be and Argyle is so different - from all the other entities Billy ever met before. He's more human, but that doesn't make him less ethereal.

Argyle's mouth is on his, a kiss first tender, more a question than an answer. Billy can't remember if he ever kissed like this. Their tongues meet, swirling and hungrier the longer the kiss lasts.

Argyle pushes him - slightly. They end up in the midst of a pile of pillows and the world around Billy is a blur of red, blue and green.

Argyle's hands stroke his skin, undressing him, fingers wandering from his chest to his belly and there are tears prickling in Billy's eyes.

"Open up," Argyle whispers and it's the first order, maybe ever, Billy wanted to follow. There's still a voice in his mind, sounding like Neil, that he's listening to one of them, to an angel, but Argyle's lips are on his again and it's just so easy to let go.

He spreads his legs. Argyle rubs a finger against his hole.

"Good," he smiles. He moves and his fingers press into Billy. Two at once, scissoring inside him, rubbing against a spot Billy didn't know was there.

Pleasure is no stranger, but for the first time Billy wants more. He moves his hips forward.

"Behave," Argyle says, slapping his ass. It burns, but in a way that turns the pleasure hotter.

"I'm not a fucking -"

Argyle grabs his chin. "You want to be good, don't you?"

There's this stupid word again, that makes Billy's cock throb.

Argyle's dick brushes against his hole, pulls Billy down to sit on it and Billy keens, dizzy from what's happening and what's about to come.

He breaches him and it's like Billy is on fire, but not the way he's used to. One thrust and he's groaning.

Argyle fucks into him. Clearly not a stranger to pleasure. He's hitting Billy's prostate hard. Billy forgets to breath. He doesn't need it. He only needs the arms around him and that warm smile that is still there.

He's leaking precome, his aching dick trapped between their bellies.

"See? You can be very good, Billy."

Argyle laughs in his ear, a song Billy wants to remember for centuries.

The world blurs and Billy only halfway registers that Argyle's wings spread out, nearly reaching the ceiling. He knows his own is there, too, but he's so high on pleasure, he doesn't care.

Argyle pants, thrusts again and suddenly Billy's vision blanks, all white joy exploding inside him. He comes, whole body trembling and the world around him shaking.

Argyle whispers in his ear, tells him he's doing well, that he's proud and all Billy can do is whine, his skin tingling. Argyle follows shortly after with groan getting tangled with a laugh, the happiest noise Billy ever heard.

Argyle still has his arms around Billy. He strokes his black feathers, carefully.

Billy's heart flutters like his wing can't anymore. He knows what's left is charred and ugly.

"You're beautiful," Argyle whispers - like Billy's wings aren't the proof he isn't. "A real angel."

Billy knows lies, can see them and taste them from miles around - but this isn't one. Tears burn in his eyes. He bites his tongue. This is embarrassing.

Argyle wraps his wings around them. Billy's limbs are tired. Argyle's hand is still buried in his feathers. No one has held him like that. It's calming, it feels safe. He buries his face in the nape of Argyle's neck and pretends he isn't crying.

[dotster001]

Do you think you could make a twisted earth fic where we get transported to twisted wonderland with the octrio and whoever else you think would be interesting?

Im.not going anonymous bc I love my user too much

Summoned From Twisted Earth

A/N: this came out really long, oh my gosh but I hope you like it. I decided to focus on the octotrio, because I felt like daily life with them would be chaotic enough. (You're username is very funny btw) Later, I reference a shirt. I'm imagining this, but put your face in place of the emoji. I'm sorry 😂

Weeks of research, bribery, and thievery had led up to this moment. 

Azul’s phone, opened to the Twisted Earth homescreen, sitting in the middle of a summoning circle, him and the twins standing around it, pens drawn.

“Floyd, you remember the words, right?” Azul asked him.

“Duh! I’m not gonna mess up a chance to squeeze Shrimpy for real,” Floyd said with an eye roll.

“Remember, Shrimpy is for ALL of us. And we must make sure not to interrupt them when they are doing work for the lounge,” Jade said with a smile, although Azul was certain that should the moment arise, Jade would allow Floyd to run off with you for entertainment reasons.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let’s just do this before I lose my energy,” Floyd said.

The three began chanting the spell, moving their pens in synch, and the phone in the circle began to hiss and smoke. Suddenly, it exploded and filled the room with smoke.  The three began coughing and spluttering, trying to clear the smoke out.

When it faded, there you were. Laying down in the circle, eyes closed as though you were sleeping. 

Though the plan had been to let you wake up naturally, then explain the situation, Floyd was never one to follow plans. He dived into the circle with an excited laugh, and wrapped his arms tightly around you.

You woke up with a start, and immediately began to breathe heavily.

“Floyd,” Azul groaned, as Jade knelt down and illustrated deep breathing to get you to calm down.

“Wha?” Floyd said, seemingly unaware of the position you were in, and nuzzling his cheek against yours.

“There we are,” Jade said, satisfied that you’d calmed down enough. “Welcome to Twisted Wonderland. I am Jade, this is my brother Floyd, and that is Azul. How much do you know about yourself?”

This was the important part. If they had performed the spell to perfection, you would be aware that you were a video game, and aware of at least Azul, as it was his phone you were summoned from. If the spell was at its worst, you would have zero memories, and wouldn’t even know your own name. Azul was hoping for the former. The twins were hoping for something in between.

“I…uh…” you said hoarsely. “I’m Y/N. I know plenty about myself, what do you mean?”

“Fu fu, we were wondering if you knew you were a video game character, who lived in a non magical world,” Jade said, already fascinated by you. He’d rather just set you loose on the world and see what happened. But that wasn’t likely to happen anytime soon considering how tight his twin was holding you.

“I’m a what? No , no, I’m not a video game character,” You said hastily, attempting, rather unsuccessfully, to extricate yourself from Floyd’s grip.

Jade pulled out his phone, and showed you one of the cards in his game, and you froze.

“Understand?” Azul said, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Here’s how things stand.”

                                              ….

Life with those three was…unique to say the least. Their story was that they were businessmen who brought you to life so that people could pay them to interact with you. It seemed reasonable enough, you guessed, but the way Floyd hung off you, Jade stared at you dreamily, and Azul turned red if you even looked at him, you had to guess there was more to it.

Not that you would ask them about it right now. You were having enough trouble adapting to a world full of magic, and fighting off the ever present existential crisis of finding out that everything you knew about yourself before this point was programmed into you.

You would start your day with Jade waking you up, and helping you free yourself from Floyd’s cuddle grip. This was easier on days when Floyd was in a good mood. If he was in a bad mood, not even a forklift could free you. After you were free, If you were free, Jade would give you a soothing mushroom based tea that somehow managed to taste good. It had a different flavor everyday, and Jade would quietly have a conversation with you while you drank it, eying you curiously. You felt safer never asking about it.

After this, you would join Azul in the VIP lounge, where you would film video messages, and do meet and greets with well off customers. Azul would busy himself with his paperwork, before offering you his arm to escort you to wherever you wanted to go, after you finished your work. He was always a blushy mess when you parted, but he still managed to ask if you needed anything from him, before going off to work the lounge, or go to class for the rest of the day.

Originally, you had had all three men’s phone numbers so that if anything happened while you were exploring this new world, they could be there in a flash. However, Floyd had taken to asking where you were, and skipping class. It had happened too many times, and now you had a new phone number, and Floyd was blocked on your phone.

All four of you would hang out at lunch time, where you would talk about what you had discovered that day. Jade would happily smile at you, while Floyd would nibble on your finger, arm, or anything you allowed him access to, and Azul would try to hold a conversation with you without becoming a disaster. (You had been assured by that twins that this behavior was weird, but you’d yet to see him act any other way).

Afterwards, you would explore some more, then rejoin them in the dorm. On Fridays, you helped out with the lounge at the special “Twisted Earth Theme Night”. Every other day, you would hang out with Jade at the bar, as he told you secrets about the customers. 

You would help them out when they needed to restock their merch store. It was definitely weird seeing merch of yourself, your friends, your enemies…. Pretty much everyone you knew. But if it kept Floyd from making more of that shirt….you’d do what you had to. You were able to help approve, or disapprove merch ideas, which not only meant you could prevent cursed crap from happening, but they could also put your official seal of approval on their products.

At the end of the day, you all would have dinner together, before separating for the night. This was usually the time when they would ask you questions.

Top Questions have included: 

“Do you think octopi are hot?” (from Floyd)

“Do you think eels are hot?” (from Floyd)

“How would you feel about being wrapped around, like you’re a bean pole, by a mermaid?” (From Floyd)

(You never know how to answer Floyd’s questions)

Once you got tired, you would go to your room, and go to sleep. You would wake up the next morning to Floyd cuddling you, and Jade waking you up, and the cycle would repeat.

It was definitely an odd life, but you were growing used to seeing those three everyday. The more you learned about them, the softer your heart went for them. You got excited to start your day cuddling Floyd, and drinking tea with Jade. You enjoyed working with Azul and watching him slowly grow bolder with you. You loved spending time with them at the end of the night, despite the weird questions you sometimes got. You were getting used to FLoyd jumping you, Jade’s secretly possessive behavior, and Azul’s charms.

You were grateful for your time with them. You couldn’t wait for your next adventure, or what the future would bring.

...

Tag list- @leonia0 @shytastemakerthing

[96percentdone]

Lately I've started thinking that Furue Jin is so absent from Nirvana Initiative on purpose. Hear me out. Here's a list of things we learn about Jin complete with how we learn it:

He is a CEO of a japan only not-spotify, a businessman and author. Boss and several other characters tell this to us. Riichi mentions that although they're both rich businessmen and he's heard of him, they have not met.

He runs a twitter account! Everyone has a different opinion about this twitter account, from Kagami thinking he's "a brilliant genius who isn't afraid of cutting through bullshit," to Amame thinking he "a pretentious jerk who constantly complains online to draw attention to himself". We never see his twitter account or any of the tweets. He circulates that picture of "himself" online, but we don't see the evidence of that either. It's just told to us.

He spent his whole childhood and teenage years in the hospital, and even went to school there because he was ill. We learn this from Shouma who also remarks how lonely he must have been.

The nurse says that "Jin-chan" was extremely meek and timid, and couldn't even use the restroom alone. She also says he was very meticulous and tidy.

Horadori Chikara called Jin "the almighty" because of a birthmark on his face that resembles a % sign, which is an important cult symbol. To him, Jin is a vehicle for perfection/god. We learn this from Shigure.

At one point, Shigure Tokiko loved him because he was her son and did not want to give him up. She then stopped caring about him or anyone after a suicide attempt when the guilt from kidnapping a child got too real.

Uru accuses Jin of constantly mocking him in the same paragraph he mentions Jin has apologized one million times before in his murder diary. Uru also patently does not understand at all why "Mom" "loves" Jin. Mizuki concludes Jin was not a bad guy at the end of the game and that he meant that apology. We do not see this event in a flashback or have a record of Jin's thoughts before he went down there.

There's a trend here. None of this is first hand. Now, you might think "well he's dead first thing so we can't get too much from him himself" but that's weaksauce look. Renju was dead first thing and we had several flashbacks with him IN it, and this game makes great use of reading journals and diaries. There's no reason they can't have shown us something he wrote, his tweets, his social media, his writing, his thoughts in the hospital—anything! This is deliberate.

It's all other people's recollection and opinions; he's a mirror to project on. With a game about duality, they've made a lot of use of the mirror motif, so here's a guy who exists only in reflections had by other people. In universe, he has half of Uru's body, but in the narrative he has NOTHING of his own. Whatever you make of him is entirely determined by the filters of other characters and then yourself.

I think this is a bold choice, and certainly interesting, but I still can't say I think it's a good one. He's the very first victim and too wrapped up in Uru's trauma to be so missing from the text. The duality motif would be better explored by having him appear to be one way and then revealed another way without all the layers and layers and layers of guesswork and interpretation because of subjective opinions WITHIN THE TEXT by having him also be a mirror guy. It's getting in its own way, and it makes his death have like no emotional impact, which is weird. He's the FIRST VICTIM. I SHOULD CARE MORE THAT HE DIED. It's not really great if at the end of the mystery most players are asking "hey so who even really. Was the dead guy anyway." And there's more interesting story potential in allowing him to BE then in obfuscating him.

[kingofangst]

SHADES OF RED

Fight Club Owner! Sukuna x Wealthy! Reader teaser

Here is the teaser @rinhaler hope you find it interesting

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sexual desire

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

"Coming up in my club and business is a fucking invasion of privacy, princess. Didn't your parents teach you any form of manners?"

You scoff, turning on your heels fixing him a piercing glare. The audacity he has to call you that. "First off, do not call me princess. Secondly, you are a heinous man for allowing and orchestrating vile legal entities, like this illegal fight club to exist. Thirdly, my parents do not give a flying fuck about my existence."

Sukuna smirks, simply amused by your boldness and sharp tongue. You definitely weren't a cop or some government agent, not with those clothes. "It's called capitalism, sweetheart. Surely you're familiar with that term since you dress like a white collar person."

"I'm a financial broker and a consultant." You clarify, the front of your shoes tapping impatiently while it echoes in the cold but smelly lockeroom, waiting for your cousin to change. You can hear him grumble and huff in irritation about you meddling in his life. The oh so sultry way he said sweetheart made your insides feel repulsed. There was no way you enjoyed him calling you pet names.

"Oh so you should be aware then. You deal with shady clients from time to time so you can't be that stupid. There are far seedy businessmen than me who do worst than what I run. You might have even funded them." The patronizing tone he used boiled your blood. You had half a mind to slap that smirk off his face and the other was to punch his face. You don’t care if he’s 6'6 feet with muscles or whatever, you on thin ice with violence tonight. You aren’t scared of any man. At least that's what your mind is telling yourself as you are front of the pink-haired male.

"You must get off being so arrogant. That prideful that you had to resort to shady businesses to get through in life?" You smirk with vehemence. Satisfied that the grin was gone and replaced by a scowl, you took it further. "You must have a fucked up life that you needed to get by like a vulture and work your way up-" you were cut off when Sukuna was suddenly in front of you.

The confidence you had inside died instantly when you saw just how dark his face got and those looming red eyes staring at you like you were a dangerous insect. If looks could kill, you'd be incinerated. It was frightening and erotic the way he was towering over you, ready to pounce you like a predator.

"For someone who's a professional businesswoman, you sure got a mouth that acts like they can fucking talk to others however they want." He growls out, the tension so thick, even Hiroshi stopped moving. You couldn't tell if your cousin was scared or not, not when his eyes commanded you to look at him. "You should really be careful with who you're talking too. You think you can just come in here and think you're the shit. Get the fuck outta here with that attitude." Sukuna is keenly aware of your bossy attitude, along with your bravery. He does admire it dearly, but sometimes people like you need to be reminded of their place. He can think of many ways to put you in your place and do the nastiest and sinful things to let you know who's dominant.

"Oh I will." You utter, regaining the bravery back to look at him. "I don't plan on coming back here and neither is Hiroshi."

"No, what the fuck!? You can't just tell me not to come here and force my life around!" The irritated voice of your 18-year old cousin shouts in the lockeroom. He reappears in a black wifebeater tank top, black joggers, a white baseball cap worn backwards and black and white converses. His face, fueled with rage and hurt despite the few yet prominent bruises on his face fills you with regret. Maybe you should have kept a closer eye on him in school.

"Yes you are and I said so. Get your stuff and let's go." You order him, yet he refuses, his toned biceps crossing his chest in indignation.

"Fuck that! You’re not my mom just because you’re raising me! I am not gonna let you do what you want me to do just because it doesn't go with your "white collar" bullshit!" Hiroshi spat. Your eyes widen in shock for a split second, hurt by how he replied, and Hiroshi knew he fucked up by saying the first words he didn't mean to say. But you instantly regain composure and was about to respond coldly until a deep tone interrupted.

"What a family feud you are causing here." The feigned surprised voice of Sukuna makes you bristle, giving him a death stare. Seriously why is this man even in your presence.

"He can leave tonight. Let him recover and rest from his bruises. But," He looks to you with that same dark expression that sent shivers down your spine, and it was the good kind of shivers, "if you think you can just house arrest my top fighter and micro-manage him, he's part of this world now and can do as much as he pleases, princess. So you shouldn't stop him."

The challenge he declared to you made your competitive side ablaze. You faced him head-on with a fearsome look of your own. "Hiroshi is not coming back here and that's final. Hiroshi, let's go."

What a conceited, self-centered bitch you are. He chuckles in his thoughts. Now he was interested in you and your confidence. Just as she swipes his arm with her shoulder, her classy and expensive heels echoing the tiled floor, he eyes his top fighter who was furious at the thought of being forbidden from coming back here. Sukuna stops Hiroshi by the shoulder, making the IED teen look at him.

"Don't worry kid, you're still allowed here. Can't have my top fighter out of the game now. We'll figure something out, but for now just go home and rest up." He hears Hiroshi grunt out a low "fine" before he storms out of the lockeroom with veiled rage.

As for you...he really is intrigued by your beauty, your confidence and finesse. But that attitude of yours has to be fixed. Give it time and you'll warm up to him soon.

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

I am excited but nervous to write this series. I hope I did Sukuna justice with his personality here.

[plaid-maniac]

There is a boy at the clinic.

It is late at night and you at volunteering at a clinic for a family friend. It’s one of the only times you really feel like you are helping people.

You have treated wounds from all sources of violence that surround the clinic. Stab wounds, drug misuse, burn treatments, you have seen it all.

The boy’s wound, for all intents and purposes, is simple. Wipe away the blood, disinfect the area, wrap the wound in a bandage. You have done this a million times.

It is not even a particularly shocking story he tells you. A graze from a gunshot he was too slow to avoid. You have heard the story plenty of times, and have seen far worse outcomes than this. This kid would be a completely normal patient.

He is wearing a mask.

A simple thing, really, enough to hide his face. Not enough to hide his smile.

Not enough to hide the way he stutters around his name. Or hide how he stutters around yours. Only enough to hide himself in the dark.

He isn’t in the dark.

He’s sitting on the patient’s bed, underneath the bright examination light, swinging his legs cause they can’t touch the ground and he has nothing better to do, and chatting away like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

His outfit is bright colors. Reds and greens and yellows dancing throughout what can only be described as a circus outfit. All completed with a cape to hide himself with.

Even with all that said, the outfit is dirty. Wet from the rain or maybe the ocean nearby allowing for the sawdust and dirt to stick to it. The shoes that almost certainly were not built to be run around in are caked in gunk and residue from running around filthy streets, nearly hiding the bright green it’s supposed to be.

It looks like months of built-up dirt, only barely kept at bay by the inexperienced scrubbing of a nine-year old. But you know deep down that it is only worn at night. Only at night when the city really wakes up.

You know because you see him in the light.

At breakfast tomorrow morning the boy will come sliding down the railing, preforming a maneuver professionals struggle with at the end, and walk to the table wondering about the plans for the day.

You’ll tell him about your meeting at 11, how it’ll be with businessmen you hardly know the names of trying to sell you something you don’t want or need just to grab a quick buck and their names in the headlines alongside yours.

You’ll remind him his tutor will be there at 1 to help him get caught up with the curriculum at nearby schools. You’ll also remind him to come to you if he needs anything.

He’ll look up at you with a calculating look, the same look he gives all the new gymnastic equipment every time he’s about to start practicing. He will smile. A little too mischievous. Like you just told a funny joke, or he knows something he shouldn’t. He will say of course I will. But I really should go get practicing.

You want to wonder what he is practicing for as he makes his way up the stairs. You’re afraid you already know.

Your routine is muted with images from last night. Of the bird-like acrobat who had to come to a clinic at 1 in the morning. You think about your own bird-like acrobat, who wore long sleeves to breakfast this morning.

You do not want to connect the dots.

You do not like the picture it paints.

But the dots practically overlap each other. They sit, snug up to one another like peas in a pod. And they only get closer when you read the morning newspaper as you get settled in your office.

Late last night, at about 12:45, the police apprehended a small gang down at the Gotham harbor. Another instance where the police respond to a call only to have every crook tied up in complex knots and covered in bruises in strange spots.

The only ones conscious enough to explain what happened all mumble of a haunting laugh echoing around them, and a swirl of colors before they are taken down.

One of the swore up and down he managed to shoot down the thing that attacked them, only to end up hanging upside down from the rafters.

The picture is glaringly bright to you. As bright as the family you once saw performing at the circus. As bright as a spotlight reflecting off blood.

You send a single prayer to Lady Gotham, perhaps the only god who you know listens, and beg

“Please, please protect my boy. And if the time comes, please don’t let him make the wrong choice.”

[itsmeimcathy]

{ klarolineauseason } week 3: creatures

Caroline is a young witch traveling the world and collecting magical objects; Klaus is the genie (though he prefers to be callen Djinn) trapped in the oil lamp she buys in a Turkish market.

Despite her promises of helping to free him, he is still forced to grant her three wishes, but he is not as unhappy about it as he would like - considering that his last client (he refuses to call them masters) had tried to turn him into some sort of a pet.

Although… he wouldn't even mind that too much this time, as this new pretty owner seems far kinder than the last one.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Caroline hugs her bag to her breast as she hurries back to the hotel, almost vibrating from the curiosity that is accompanying her ever since she left the Grand Bazaar. She can't wait to be safely behind closed doors - and a barrier or two - to finally analyze her most recent purchase.

She glances over her shoulder, but it doesn't look like she's being followed. Good.

Her hotel is situated in a densely populated area of the city, so she breathes a bit more easily once she can hide in the middle of the crowd, disappearing between businessmen and tourists and local people going about their day. She tightens the hold around her bag and half runs towards the revolving doors of the hotel, sighing in relief when the cold air of the foyer caresses her face.

Without looking back she rushes to her room, locking the door and setting up a sturdy magical barrier around it: the salt poured out on the window sill and at the door threshold should be enough of a protection. Then she finally turns the content of her bag all over the bed, smiling when the new, precious object falls and bounces amidst her more mundane belongings.

A normal human wouldn't notice it, but Caroline can feel the pulse of powerful, ancient magic surrounding the antique bronze oil lamp. Even without being a magical artifact, it should belong in a museum - thankfully, this time she didn't have to break into one to steal it.

She holds it carefully, turning it this way and that to look at the inscriptions - she would need her books to translate it, but she still can appreciate the beauty - and marveling at the elegant workmanship.

Her fingers caress the exquisite engraving of a snake, its body twisting around the surface of the lamp until its fangs bite its tail on the other side. A bit of dirt cakes the writing under the snake, and she tries to scratch it away with her nails.

All of a sudden, the metal becomes incandescent.

Caroline hisses from the pain but refuses to let it go, just in case that's the only guarantee protecting her from certain death - and then she's engunfeld by a thick, dark mist.

Before she can cast any kind of spell to disperse it or protect herself, she feels something slithering slowly around her feet, making her lose balance and fall back onto the bed.

A dark chuckle comes from somewhere inside the mist, making her shiver - then, a deep, male voice follows.

"Are you the new owner of the lamp?"

Caroline bites her lips to prevent herself from blurting the infinite questions crowding her mind - she did have a half idea of what the lamp was, but this truly goes far and beyond her wildest expectations - and waves a hand to try and clean the air around her.

"I promise you I mean no harm," she tries to assure the mysterious creature, ignoring the cold thing curling around her calf. "I just have a few questions, if you'd allow it?"

"How sweet of you to think you could harm me, enchantress," he murmurs, his voice now coming from somewhere closer.

"I am not an enchantress, I'm a witch." She coughs lightly, clearing her throat. "And would you mind making this fog disappear? I swear, I won't attack unless I'm threatened."

A brief pause. "Is that your first wish, then, witch?"

"No, I…" She frowns, looking for the right words. "I don't have any wish."

"Oh?"

The fog starts thinning out, finally allowing Caroline to see a full view of the hotel room and the creature standing right in the middle of it.

Though standing might be the wrong word: as the strange being who came out of the lamp - for that was obviously what happened, although she has barely had the time to wrap her mind around it - looks human only until his hip bones, and from there downwards his skin turns into pale golden scales covering a long, impressively thick and smooth snake tail that seems to curl and curl on itself infinitely. 

Caroline swallows, speechless, when she realizes that it's the end of that tail that still circles her ankle - imprisoning her?

The man (male? Creature?) watches her with his arms folded behind his back, utterly unbothered with his nakedness, his head tilted as if he was the one studying her instead of the opposite.

There are shackles-like golden bands around his wrists, and more golden chains hang from his neck, covering half of his torso - or maybe it's a single one, impossibly long, wrapped around him several times. 

He leans slightly towards her, the chains tinkling together, a suddenly cold look in his amber - reptilian - eyes. "Tell me then, witch. What do you want from this Djinn?"

So he really is a genie, she thinks distractedly. The tail is a surprise.

"I truly don't want anything," she insists, unable to keep her eyes from wandering all over him. "I just followed the traces of magic and it led me to the lamp - I collect artifacts, that's it. I had no idea it was yours."

She's not about to take advantage of this creature, or worse, keep him as a slave; besides, Djinns were rarely benevolent beings, mostly enjoying twisting and ruining their masters' wishes - and who could even blame them? Besides, thanks to her own magic, she lacks for nothing.

Of course, now she just has to explain this to him.

"Unfortunately, you should have thought of it before stroking the lamp," he says softly. "Now I am bound to grant you three wishes - and I must say, I can't wait to hear what such a pretty human would ask for."

Caroline scoffs before she can stop herself. "Why, so you can take your petty revenge by misinterpreting and ruining my wishes? No, thank you."

The Djinn smirks suddenly, his fangs glinting wickedly. "Oh, a smart one. Now I am really intrigued."

"Look," she says quickly, hopefully sounding respectful. "I'm not looking for trouble - I don't want to engage in a battle of wills with you. If there is some way I can help you, feel free to ask… I'm sure there must be something you want after being cooped up in that lamp for who knows how long."

His handsome face loses the amused expression of earlier, taking on a more serious and thoughtful one, and suddenly Caroline has the distinct, uncomfortable sensation of being weighed and judged as if she was in high school all over again. She squirms on the bed, her hands still cupping the lamp, but her eyes don't leave his - trying to convey her sincerity. 

The fact that his tail hasn't tightened around her leg is somewhat of a comfort, as it means he doesn't mean any harm - yet.

"It seems your words are… truthful," he wonders, eventually. "Are you truly willing to help me escape this imprisonment?"

"Yes, of course," it's her hurried response. "So, how can I help?" She offers the lamp back to him, as it seems rude to keep holding onto it, but he doesn't even spare it a glance. 

Instead he draws nearer, slithering over the wooden floor, his claw-tipped fingers reaching out to her - gently curling around her neck, holding her without hurting. "I want freedom, and I want revenge", he murmurs against her lips, his thin pupils widening slightly with longing. "Not necessarily in this order. I offer you my services if you promise me yours."

Freedom and revenge, she repeats silently. I suppose it's understandable - I can work with that.

Caroline nods carefully, his cold hand following her movements. "You have my promise, then," she vows, sincere. "Do you have a way to, like, seal the deal…?"

His blood red lips curl upwards, making an endearingly tiny dimple appear. "I do."

Then he surges forward and covers her mouth with his own, swallowing her surprise gasp and biting down on her lower lip with his sharp fangs.

She tastes blood - both of theirs, as she feels him push his own deeper inside her mouth, making her tongue tingle as if his blood itself is made out of pure magic. She closes her eyes, swallowing instinctively, just as his tail moves further up along her body, curling carefully around her waist - keeping her close until the last drop of his blood has slipped down her throat.

He slowly leans back, the tip of his tongue licking at the remnants of her blood from the corner of his mouth, looking entirely too self-satisfied. "Your name if you please, master of mine."

"I'm-I'm Caroline," she stutters, blushing a bit. That caught her off guard, to say the least.

"You may call me Klaus," he tells her softly, his sharp talons caressing her cheek. "And now you belong to me until I have granted your wishes and you have granted mine, Caroline."

And maybe even after that, he muses, admiring the pretty pink hue upon her cheeks. For the first time in centuries, he is finally looking forward to something. 

[chateautae]

maybe i do | kth. I

➵ summary :  maybe you love each other, maybe you don’t. when a deal between your fathers leaves you forcefully wedding kim taehyung, arguably seoul’s most powerful CEO, you’re prepared for a loveless marriage of eternal regret and unhappiness. but maybe, it doesn’t turn out that way after all.

↳  part of the high-class series!

➵ pairing : taehyung x reader

➵ genre :  arranged marriage!au, ceo!tae, s2l!au, eventual smut, fluff, angst 

➵ rating : 18+

➵ word count : 11k

➵ warnings : swearing, alcohol consumption, anxiety, lots of feels about marriage, a stupid ex (reader’s), mentions of bad sexual experiences with ex (there’s consent, just bad sex that makes the reader feel shitty), does ceo tae count as a warning? 

➵ a/n: hello my first fic of my favourite trope arranged marriage, AND with kim taehyung?? yes pls !! this will be a series and I’ll be actively working on it so you don’t have to wait too long for chapters, i hope you can follow this series with me <33

chapter one : “my forever’s falling down”  

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“Another one, Father? I thought I told you my secretary would be handling marriage profiles from now on. Stop concerning yourself with who I marry.” 

“But I do, son. Trust me, I know this girl, she’s the daughter of a trusted friend and I think she’s a good match.” 

“Father, everyone you choose for me I dislike and it’s distracting me from my work. I don’t need this right now.” 

“She’s different, Taehyung. I personally know her and I’m certain you won’t say no.” 

“And why is that?” 

“There’s something about her you won’t refuse, son, you’ll notice it when you meet her.” 

“I don’t want to meet her, Father. Like I said, I need to work.” 

“I just knew you’d act this way. Want to know something, son? I’ve made her part of a business deal, you can’t back out of this.”

“What? You made her part of a business deal?! Why would you-”

“Because you wouldn’t have given her a chance otherwise, you haven’t been giving anyone a chance since I’ve been setting up potential partners for you and I’m sick of it. You said you were open to an arranged marriage, where’s that attitude now?”

“Because, Father, I have a company to run and that’s-”

“No. I will not allow you to reduce your life to just this company. There are far more enjoyable things in life than a business.”

“But Father-”

“No, Taehyung. One thing you need to learn is balance. If you don’t give anyone or anything a chance you will live a lonely life behind your desk. Even in this cutthroat world of business where you can lose money or be betrayed by anyone at any moment, the most painful thing to suffer is loneliness, and I won’t let you live in this world alone.”

“Dad-”

“You will meet this girl, Taehyung, end of discussion.” 

“Dad! I told you I want nothing to do with your company, how could you let me get dragged into this?!” 

“Y/N-ie, I know you value the life you have without any of my help, but let me help just this once, especially with finding a husband. I’m being offered the deal of a lifetime and I can’t refuse, he just happens to be part of it. I need this for the company, please.”

“But Dad, I don’t even know him. And if he’s the CEO of some rich company he’s probably an asshole, I’m not doing this.” 

“Y/N-ie, trust me, I know his son. He’s a sincere, hard-working man, I promise.”

“Yeah, right. Even if that’s the case, I still don’t know him, let alone love him, Dad. How can you make me marry someone I don’t love?”

“Because you can learn to love him. There are no rules concerning the way two people should fall in love, love doesn’t always need to come first.”

“But Dad-”

“My daughter, I have not asked you for many things in my life, but this is one thing I must ask of you. Please, just meet him, don’t say no without even trying.”

“Dad, I don’t know-”

“Please, Y.N, do it for me. If not for the company or money, please do it for me.”

And here you were, fidgeting with the tips of your nails, tuning in and out of the present world and overthinking every aspect of your life that somehow lead you to this moment. Sitting on a Leather Italia couch in what was described to be Mr. Kim’s study; listening to your father’s incessant, albeit wholesome chatter next to you with your future in-laws across. 

And next to them was their suave, unreadable son sitting in a relaxed manner, flipping his attention between your fathers’ conversation and anything else in the room.

You on the other hand, were utterly high strung due to the fact that your father failed to mention your future fiancé’s identity until 30 minutes before arriving here, having done a quick search in the car to unveil who he exactly was.

And that’s when it hit you. You weren’t marrying just anyone, you were getting married to Kim Taehyung. The infamous CEO of Kim Enterprises—Korea’s largest software development and manufacturing company, rivaling to be one of the largest in the world. He was part of Seoul’s most prestigious circle of businessmen, having made multiple Forbes international lists of Most Successful, Youngest, Richest, and is even one of Korea’s most eligible bachelors, not just Seoul.

If this wasn’t already taking you out, then it was definitely the fact that his photos through a measly Google search did him absolutely, utterly and completely no justice. They simply could never capture the truth of just how handsome Kim Taehyung was in real life. You couldn’t deny it, he wasn’t just good-looking, he was stunning, gorgeous, seemed as though God had created the universe, heaven and hell in 6 days and left the 7th just to create him. 

He was like a work of art, worthy of being placed in the finest of museums and left untouched, unsodden by the ugliness of humanity. It made you feel extremely inferior to him in an instant. It was sickening, he was sickening, intoxicating, and quite frankly, intimidating.

It was his look, his undivided stare when he eventually settled his sight on you. It didn’t matter his dark hair that landed and perfectly curled above his eyes, the way he occasionally licked his plush lips or how his long, tall legs spread out before him, it was his look that made you want to turn tail and run.  

It seemed to reach into your soul, peer straight through whatever façade, walls or defense mechanisms you could spend years building only to have his simple look tear it down in minutes. He was alluring, captivating, left you wanting to cower into whatever hole you could dig yourself into or discover all the secrets he hid behind those enchanting eyes.

Kim Taehyung was many things you couldn’t quite wrap your head around, though you assessed your priorities and decided they didn’t just include him, but mainly the significance of the current meeting taking place right now. 

It wasn’t a mere one-time business deal to discuss a project, it was a meeting that entailed the partnership of both your family companies and would define the next however many years of your life. More specifically, spending it with the exact same man that looked at you without a single readable expression on his face. 

You distracted yourself by trying to observe as many useless things as you could, flitting around the room many times before suddenly glancing at Taehyung’s index finger coming up to rest against his lips.

You zeroed your vision in more. 

Is that a cut on his finger?

“Jae-in, of course! This is just as important to me as it is to you, your son is a remarkable CEO, and I’m sure he’ll make an amazing husband.” 

“Aish, Namhyun, you flatter me too much. My son may be handsome, though your daughter is even more beautiful. I’m very sure she will make a wonderful wife.”

“Yes, Namhyun, your daughter is absolutely gorgeous! Just as gorgeous as her mother. I know she wasn’t able to make it, though may I ask where your wife is tonight?” 

“Ah, unfortunately, she’s out of the country. Though I was hoping my presence would be enough to fill in for her, am I doing a bad job?” 

Laughter erupted from the parents in the room, meanwhile, Taehyung couldn’t help but notice the way you immediately winced at the mention of your mother. Something he definitely wouldn’t miss with the way he found himself examining your every move. 

It was habitual to him, something born out of his roots in business, only for the purpose of calculating and reading people like an open book. 

He knew you’d also become victim to that habit, though oddly enough, he found himself quite interested in observing you. He had already figured you out; you hated business, there was a clear disconnection between yourself and your father’s company and you reeked of a sense of independence that funnily contradicted the antsy way you bounced your leg. 

Your way of speech, however, mannerisms, gestures, your look; it was all professional enough you clearly have some sort of background in business. You seemed like an heiress to Taehyung, which you were, though you oddly had no interest in business?   

All these details piqued his interest, curious of just who you exactly were, but he was mainly intrigued by the mysterious claim his father made upon mentioning you for the first time. 

‘There’s something about her you won’t refuse.’

That had raked Taehyung’s brain consistently for the past hour now, crossing his legs loosely and his arms folded over his chest, contemplating over and over again as he looked at you, what’s so damn special about her? 

‘You’ll notice it when you meet her,’ the words rang in his ears.

That was the driving force behind his calculation, observation, near inability to take his eyes off of you as he learned new things nearly every minute and led him closer to understanding his father.  

He could tell you were an anxious person, though hid it behind a persona of false confidence. You had a tendency to stick close to your father despite observing you don’t rely on him for much of anything, even less your mother. The softness behind your every movement despite being from a business background where you should be harsh, rigid, rough around the edges, and yet you seemed entirely different.

Taehyung then realized how inherently dissimilar you were to many of the other women he met. They were all relatively of the same cut and look. Cold, sharp, cunning. All women of pure business; daughters, granddaughters or straight CEOs of wealthy companies, simply interested in marriage as a deal or an advantage rather than a commitment. 

And there was absolutely nothing wrong with that. Taehyung was a man of business himself, married to his work, his home behind a desk and the company the only thought occupying his mind 24/7.

But with you, you were interesting, unlike the others and it made him curious.

Taehyung also couldn’t help but notice you were...pretty. You weren’t too overly sexy nor too innocent, you were pretty. There was an elegance to your looks, features like your hair and eyes complementing you as a whole, and he couldn’t miss that you felt oddly...warm.

Taehyung found himself beginning to understand his father’s original viewpoint, considering the possibility he could’ve been correct. 

You just seemed different. 

“Ah, that seems to be everything. Exact details about the wedding have already been put in place by us.”

“Yes! We’ve been waiting for our TaeTae to get married for so long. We’ve had plans for months now and we can finally move forward with them! You and Y/N don’t need to worry about anything!” 

“Mom, did you really just call me that in front of my future fiancé?” 

“Oh, let it go, son. It won't be long before she calls you that, too!” 

Taehyung could only playfully roll his eyes at his overly excited mother, you scrunching your nose at the embarrassment.

“That’s incredibly generous of you, Mr. and Mrs. Kim, though my conscience is not one to let such things go. My family should contribute to the wedding in some way. Y/N and I would be happy to do so.”

“Why don’t we discuss that outside? I believe we should give the future couple some time alone, shall we?” 

You and Taehyung exchanged a quick look before standing up and respectively addressing either’s parents, Taehyung shutting the door behind them once they exited and having turned to look at you, an awkward silence piercing the air. 

There it was again, his look. It was irrefutably the one reason you avoided eye contact with him, you felt he would swallow you up if you shared even 5 seconds between each other.

“So...” Taehyung suddenly broke the ice, eyeing you.

“So...” 

“Marriage, huh?” 

“Yeah, marriage. Never done that one before.” If there wasn’t a time you vehemently hated yourself, then it was undoubtedly now. You internally facepalmed at your dumb comment, adding a laugh at the end in embarrassment only to look away. 

“Uh..yeah.” Taehyung laughed awkwardly. “Me neither, if you didn’t already know.” He tucked his hands into his pockets and looked away, you fidgeting by the couches everyone previously occupied. 

A beat of silence passed as you both exchanged looks between objects in the room and each other, either of you pursing your lips or blowing light raspberries to cut the awkwardness. 

“I wanted to ask you something.” 

“Hm?” You turned towards him, lips just a pout as your doe-eyes awaited him. 

Taehyung didn’t miss that at all. 

“Um, your mother. I apologize if this is intrusive of me, though I couldn’t help but notice I’ve never actually met her. May I ask where she is?” 

You let out a dry chuckle before answering, another detail that didn’t slip Taehyung’s attention. “Trust me, Taehyung, one thing you’ll never have to worry about during this entire ordeal is my mother. She should be the last thing on your mind.” You assured him with what he could tell was your fakest smile, distracting him from the realization you’d said his name for the first time.

“Are you sure? I’ll be meeting her at the wedding so-”

“You won’t. I don’t think you will. Even if she does make it, it takes very little to impress her, just be yourself and she’ll love you.” You stated with a sense of finality, as though the topic should be dropped. 

“Be myself? I’m one of the best businessmen in Korea. It’s my job to get people to like me, easy stuff.” He casually gloated. 

“You don’t only have to be a businessman to do that,” you paused and looked at him, “you can just be Kim Taehyung, too.” You spoke nonchalantly, eyes lingering with his for longer than 5 seconds and he, in fact, had not swallowed you yet. 

Taehyung instantly furrowed his eyebrows, taken aback as if your suggestion was something outlandish, absurd, maybe even offending.

Nobody has ever said such a thing to him, not throughout the entirety of his life. 

Taehyung tried his best to recover, searching for another topic of conversation before he was cut off by your rather soft voice, he noticed. 

“Oh, I wanted to give you this.” You stepped towards him, reaching into your purse and retrieving something Taehyung couldn’t quite see. You strided over and extended your hand, Taehyung finding himself even more confused.

“A bandage?” 

“Mhm. For the cut on your finger. You should probably clean it and apply something before putting this on.” You stated nonchalantly once again, offering him a small smile whilst holding out the bandage. 

“Uh...” Taehyung started but couldn’t complete his sentence, lost on how you even observed something as small as his cut and spoke of treating it like it was an actual injury.  

After his struggle to form a sentence, you grew bold enough to gently remove his hand from his pocket and place the bandage in his palm, looking back up at him. You shared a momentary look with his chocolate eyes, instantly scrambling after realizing your hand was still in his.

He has really big hands. 

“We should um...probably go.” You avoided his eyes, stepping aside quickly to pull the door open.

Taehyung’s mind felt displaced, eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the fact that someone had actually left him with nothing to say, an extremely rare occurrence in his book.

He was even more displaced looking at the measly wrapper in his hand, then at the cut on the side of his finger, playing through the last 5 minutes of what just happened.

He scoffed to himself.

‘There’s something about her you won’t refuse.’

It had been 3 weeks since that meeting, not having seen Taehyung once as you wasted your time enjoying single life luxuries before you prepared for one of marriage.

It still felt odd to say such a thing, marriage, because it didn’t even feel like one, or a real one at that. It was forced, fake, a pressured one out of convenience. It felt more like a deal, something Taehyung and yourself had to settle for in order to keep your parents’ minds at ease.

That thought racked your brain all those 3 weeks; Taehyung had to settle for you, he didn’t choose you, just as much as you settled for him and didn’t choose him either. You both had ultimately agreed to the marriage only in an effort to optimize your parents’ happiness, not your own.

You had no clue how he felt, a mystery as much as the Bermuda Triangle, knowing he most certainly had a grand pick of women to choose from and you were most definitely his worst option.

You knew you were suddenly dumped on him, leaving him no choice in the matter as you learned your marriage entailed a beneficial business deal between your fathers’ companies, and Taehyung couldn’t really refuse you with so much on the line.

You had already felt inferior to Taehyung since the moment you met him, though your insecurities seeped further into the crevices of your doubtful mind the more you thought over that sad fact, contemplating a married life with him. In your opinion you were pretty much undesirable to him, Taehyung probably kicking himself knowing he had to unwillingly call you his wife for the rest of his life. 

You just knew you weren’t good enough for him, you would never measure up no matter how hard you’d try and that utterly terrified you. You were confident and independent when it came to yourself, though wedding a near perfect being regarded as one of Seoul’s finest in terms of a CEO and a man? 

Confidence be damned, this dude was intimidating. 

These were the feelings that swarmed your head as you sulked at your over-the-top engagement party, set up in a prestigious buildings’ gorgeous 37th floor riddled with baroque styling and embellishments, classical music gracing some of Seoul’s wealthiest patrons as their flutes clinked and snobby chatter filled the hall. 

It was all extremely high-status, reeking of upper class supremacy and quite frankly, it made you want to throw up.

You distracted yourself by bringing any and all types of alcohol to your lips, trying to focus on anything but your daunting thoughts.

The entire night you hadn’t talked to Taehyung, both of you having been too occupied with the numerous amounts of people meeting and congratulating you. This became a genuine nuisance as you’d mentioned before, this marriage was of convenience, one that brought families and companies together merrily and constituted hundreds of people attending your engagement party you didn’t really know.

Your friends were excited, over-the-moon you bagged a man like Taehyung and chastised you for not having told them about your engagement to him earlier. Your relatives similarly scolded you, pinching your cheeks and praising Taehyung like he was a God while they scrunched their noses at you for concealing him.

How could I tell you when I didn’t even know myself?, you thought.

It was funny they praised your ‘choice’ of a fiancé, positive nobody was saying the same to Taehyung without at least lying. The public only knew of you as your father’s daughter, never having seen you due to your vehement absence from anything remotely related to his company, and much of the business world in general. 

You weren’t part of that world, a world of greed and money-driven lunatics. It just wasn't you. It never suited you, left you with a bad taste in your mouth you constantly grimaced at and thought maybe you were the insane one for not understanding its flavour. As you grew older, however, you came to realize it simply wasn’t the path meant for you, someone who valued the independence and achievement of earning something for yourself, by yourself.

Ever since the inception of that principal, your young teenage self resolved you didn’t want to rely on your father’s wealth, especially not his influence or power to achieve your own place in life.

Your father had worked determinedly hard for years in order to stand as high he does now, warranting your acute admiration for your role model of a father, his now successful architecture business landing him a few buildings part of the Seoul skyline.

And after finally achieving his dream, it suddenly morphed into your own aspiration. His hard work drove you to want your own design part of Seoul’s breathtaking scenery as well, by means of your own effort, your own hard work. You didn’t want your father’s help. It felt wrong, like you were cheating if you used him to gain your place and so you condemned your life to one that separated yours and his. 

So you lived, worked and earned money without any of his influence.

You worked for an average architecture company where you felt comfortable, happy that you were away from the suffocating high-status business of your family. And although your detachment left your identity a mystery to many, your situation on the other hand was an extremely infamous one.

‘The-runaway-heiress’, was your staple trademark. The judgmental comments about your choice of life and the insults it warranted were never-ending, subjected to that criticism all your life.

There was no doubt Taehyung was hearing all of that, people probably warning him to step out of the marriage before it was too late. You weren’t like Taehyung, who was perfect, desirable, someone everyone either wanted or wanted to be. It left you glad and quite frankly, proud to be wedding a man of such caliber and incredibility, though left you wondering why in God’s name he would ever agree to marry someone like you; average, average and well, average.

“That’s your 5th shot, Y/N, slow the fuck down.” Your best friend Hana’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts, snatching the shot glass from your grasp. “It wouldn’t be cool if you were trashed at your own party, dummy.” 

Her sudden appearance brought a smile to your face. “I know, I just don’t feel well.” You sighed by the counter of the bar, seated atop a stool as you circled an empty shot glass mindlessly. 

“I get you, there’s like, hundreds of people here and you’re probably hearing a lot of different shit.” Hana appealed to you, having read your emotions like an open book. “Speaking of people, I wanted to ask, what’s up with Taehyung and his stare?”

You stifled a snort, looking at Hana’s incredulous face. “It’s just a habit of his. He stares at everyone.”

“Okay... sure, but I didn’t mean everyone, I meant you.” Hana emphasized, comically pointing.

You furrowed your eyebrows at her, arm leaning against the bar’s counter as you questioned, “What do you mean?”

“He doesn’t really stop staring at you, which is kinda weird. Unless you like that, I don’t judge people’s kinks.” Hana mockingly held her hands up in surrender, gauging a reaction out of you. 

You instantly grimaced, “It’s not a kink, Hana. Nice joke by the way, wanna sign up for SNL with that one?”

“I’m serious! I’ve been catching him just looking at you and I don’t know if it’s weird or hot.” Hana informed as you became more puzzled, her becoming oddly excited, “Awh, maybe he’s concerned with how much you keep drinking! That’s so romantic.” She chimed, looking off into the distance dreamily.

“Shut the fuck up, he wouldn’t do that.” You smacked her arm, snatching your shot glass back from her. “Besides, you’re one of the rare people who knows this marriage is fake, you know he doesn’t care.”

“Jheez, way to kill romance?” Hana rolled her eyes, smacking your arm in rebuttal before continuing. “I’m serious, though. This may be fake but he really does keep looking at you, and I don’t know what it means.” Hana speculated, contorting her lips as if in thought.

“It means nothing, Hana. You’re just seeing things.”

“Then why has he been staring at you depressed by the bar for the last half an hour?”

You nearly spit out your drink, “What?”

“Are you clueless or just dumb? He’s been talking to someone for 30 minutes but most of the time he’s been looking at you, and he still is, how haven’t you noticed?”

You creased your eyebrows in surprise as you slowly lowered your shot glass. You turned away from Hana to scan the small crowds of people mingling, eating, drinking in the hall.

You searched the room, drink still in hand until your eyes caught tall, dark and handsome in his finely pressed suit, casually standing with a drink in his hand by a table speaking to someone. You nearly jumped when your eyes locked with Taehyung’s, every cell in your body caught off guard.

What made your heart specifically race was the way he didn’t even look away from you. He held your gaze, casually conversing with the person in front of him, eyeing you until he finally cracked a small smirk before turning back to his companion.

Your eyebrows practically shot up to the sky.

“See, weird or hot? Am I even allowed to say hot?” Hana blurted as she reveled in your reaction. “And you really thought I was joking. You don’t believe anything I say, I could tell you the world’s ending and you wouldn’t believe me. I could tell you aliens finally invaded the planet and you wouldn’t believe me until the green motherfuckers knocked on your door themselves and-”

“Hana, shut the fuck up.” You cut her off abruptly and made a face at her. “Why did you even come here?”

“Grumpy, aren’t we?” She flashed you a sarcastic look before sighing. “Your dad wanted me to find you. You and Taehyung have to meet someone important, so you should stop drinking like an alcoholic, dumbass.” Hana informed hastily as she grabbed the shot glass from you and downed it herself.

“Your dad’s by the entrance, go before he gets mad!” She shooed you away, pushing you up until you whisper-yelled and smacked at her to let you go. 

You began stepping towards the entrance, smoothing over your dress and this was the moment you realized you may have drank a little too much. You were quick to reprimand yourself, cursing your unprofessional behavior as your inner equilibrium became slightly woozy, senses drowning out a bit, every sound hazed over with a buzz in your veins.

You sucked in a breath to pull yourself together, knowing your dad valued this person enough you and Taehyung had to meet them together. 

Taehyung.

You decided to glance in his direction, lips pursing seeing he wasn’t in his previous spot. You chose to ignore it, walking along until you felt a looming presence behind you, almost having time to acknowledge it before a hand suddenly touched the small of your back. 

“Looking for me?”

You nearly squealed, jumping with a hand ready to punish before calming down at the sight of Taehyung, sighing with relief. “Jheez, could you use my name? I thought you were a stranger.” 

“Well, hello to you too.” Taehyung quipped sarcastically. “And why would a stranger touch your back? Of course it’d be the only man in this room marrying you.” Taehyung narrowly eyed you, scrutinizing your reaction with his hand still pressed to you.

“People do a lot of whatever the hell they want, Taehyung.” You responded turning away from him, heels clacking as you continued to pace towards where your father stood. “W-why’d you do that, anyway?” 

Taehyung furrowed his eyebrows. “Because we’re engaged?”

“It’s not real, though.”

“It’s as real as it gets.” Taehyung finalized, making it a statement to smile at everyone you passed, to which you realized just how many pairs of eyes glued themselves to you. “This may not feel like a real marriage to us, but to the rest of the world it is.” 

He then suddenly leaned himself down to your height and lowered his tone, breath just ghosting your ear. “Y/N, we have to make this seem real, it’s the only way we’ll survive.” Taehyung was the closest he’s ever been to you, and the deep baritone of his voice as he called your name did absolutely nothing but manifest butterflies in your chest. 

Why was his voice so deep?

You shook the thought out of your head, ultimately choosing not to say anything because he was in fact, correct. You grinned widely continuing to mask the truth of your arrangements, leaning into him more as you settled for his hand on your back.

You’d noticed it before, but his hand felt particularly large against you now that he was so close. You glanced at his other hand resting by his side, impressed by how masculine they appeared; long fingers with running veins and a roughness to them, sculpted so well you were sure they deserved to be referred to as art. It tickled your giddy side for a second when they seemed to perfectly contrast your more feminine and smaller hands. 

It was kinda cute. 

You neglected your thoughts once you neared your father, warm-heartedly conversing with a well-dressed man you just about recognized. 

“Ah, there you both are!” Your father cheered, reaching out his arm so he could envelop you in a side-hug, returning Taehyung’s bow and addressment.  

“Dad, I heard you wanted us to meet someone?” You perked up in a superficial tone, at least attempting to act as though everything was fine and dandy in your life; maybe owing it to the alcohol to endure all the falsehoods.

“Yes, Y/N-ie, I wanted you to meet Mr. Won. Chang-in, my lovely daughter and whom I guess you already know, her fiancé and CEO of Kim Enterprises, Kim Taehyung.” Your father proudly presented you both.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Won, Kim Taehyung.” Taehyung was the first to address the man, extending his hand and bowing as he greeted him. You were almost taken aback by how polite he could be, the way his charming smile graced his features and attractively displayed his perfect teeth. His manner of speech and etiquette were all refined with a high degree of professionalism as well, internally gawking at his duality.  

Wasn’t he acting all entitled with you just now? 

“Nice to meet you as well!” You collected yourself and cheered, a little baffled as to why Taehyung still rested his hand against your back. “I’m hoping my father has only said good things.” You earned a laugh from the group, Mr. Won responding by receiving your hand with a firm shake. 

“Ah, Namhyun, you forgot to mention how beautiful your daughter has grown, and your future son-in-law has me jealous! What a handsome and accomplished young man, the perfect match, the two of them.” Mr. Won praised you both kindly.

You and Taehyung both smiled and thanked him humbly, feeling some heat collect in your cheeks upon Mr. Won’s words. You two? The perfect match? Unless he believes a rock and a Greek statue belong together, then he’s absolutely correct. 

Other than that, you chest swarms with butterflies thinking you’re now referred to as ‘two’. 

Taehyung for some odd reason encircles the curve of your waist suddenly, pulling you closer to him. You last minute sputter at the intimate action before leaning into him, one arm nervously encasing his torso as the other rests against his chest. 

You feel him tense underneath you. 

“Aish, you’re such a flatterer. Y/N-ie, do you remember Mr. Won? My friend from university? You haven’t seen him in a while.” Your father rested a hand on your shoulder, trying to jog your memory. 

“Oh, you mean Mr. Won from SNU?” You suddenly remembered, looking to your father for confirmation. 

“Yes, so you do remember!” 

“Of course I do, how could I forget!” You smiled brightly and returned your gaze to the familiar man. “Mr. Won used to sneak me ice cream when you wouldn’t let me have any, Dad.” You scolded him with a playful jab to his arm, inviting more laughter. “I apologize for not recognizing you right away, it’s been a long time, Mr. Won, forgive me.” You solemnly apologized, Mr. Won giving you a look of understanding. 

“Ah, forget it, Y/N. Don’t worry about it, although since it’s been a long time I hope you remember my son? He should be here somewhere..” Mr. Won trailed as his eyes fished over the grand hall, scanning around. 

“Your son..” You repeated to yourself, realizing there was a familiar connection itching at your mind, he was your age actually-

Wait. 

Oh God, not him. 

Anything but him. 

You felt raw panic seep into the spaces between your ribs, your chest filling with a constricting feeling of anxiety you couldn't shake off. Your heart picked up speed and the alcohol coursing through your veins didn’t help your judgement or memory at all, mind fogged over with the poison we dare call alcohol.  

You felt stupid, so utterly stupid. How could you forget Mr. Won and who his Godforsaken son was? 

You felt an anxiety attack riddling you, shifting your weight on your feet as you tried to bite back your uneven breathing. You just couldn’t see this man, especially in a situation where you were standing next to your husband-to-be. 

Taehyung wasn’t so invested in the conversation before him, mindlessly nodding along before he felt you physically freeze next to him, his glance to the side confirming your pale look, watching as your panicked eyes faltered to the floor and revealed... fear? 

He registered your odd shifting and your failed attempts at plastering a smile, confused if you knew this guy and if you did, why were you freaking out so much?

Were you in love with him or something? 

The thought minutely bugged him until he watched you turn straight up uncomfortable, horrified when Mr. Won called out his son’s name. 

“Kiseok-ah! Come here!” 

You stopped breathing when you heard the name, eyes going wide as you avoided eye contact with anyone in the group, but caught Taehyung’s undivided attention. He grew curious when Kiseok sauntered over to the group, your hand on his chest suddenly squeezing his suit as the mysterious man greeted everyone respectfully.

Taehyung watched as his intrigued eyes locked on you, eyebrows perking up amusedly as his lips curved into a smile Taehyung honestly couldn’t admit to liking. 

“Y/N? Wow, long time no see. It’s been what, a year?” The man Kiseok called out happily, like there was absolutely no problem occurring here but as Taehyung felt your hand clutch onto his suit, lips just about quivering before you forced a smile, he knew there was most certainly a problem. 

“Yeah.” Your voice was weak, small, and Taehyung found himself wondering how a courageous person like you was all of a sudden cowering. 

He’d heard it all night, all the accounts of your other life away from the business world. He wasn’t going to lie, he heard a multitude of opinions concerning you, many of which including either looking down on you or telling Taehyung there’s many other, more powerful women in business he could’ve been marrying instead. 

But Taehyung didn’t care for their opinions, he found you the most powerful woman he could ever marry, and agreed to do so because of that very prospect. Sure, you were estranged from the business scene and practically abandoned any role you’d play in your father’s company in order to pursue your own personal aspirations, but if anything, Taehyung found it highly commendable. 

Taehyung knew it took guts to do what you did, a bold and daring act that no other heir or future heir of a wealthy company could ever think of doing, including himself. 

What he found to appreciate most was your unwillingness to give in, where you had to have heard all the back-handed and snobby comments, yet you still held your head up high, remained rooted and adamant in keeping your current way of life. It instantly signaled to him you were courageous, fearless, unable to be stopped in your tracks.

So when he watched you become smaller and smaller the more you stood in the vicinity of this Kiseok, he knew something was sincerely wrong. 

“Ah yes, it’s been quite some time. Why don’t we step away from you three? You could do some catching up.” Your father urged as he motioned Mr. Won to step away with him. You lightly addressed them only to have your hands neglect Taehyung entirely and start fidgeting, attempting to calm your nerves as the alcohol inebriated your system and magnified your anxiety by tenfold. 

“Ah, yes, Kim Taehyung, CEO of Kim Enterprises. I’ve been meaning to meet you.” Kiseok extended his hand as his voice irked you with every syllable, trying your best to seem like absolutely nothing was wrong. 

Taehyung reached out his hand in response uneagerly, giving a small shake while wondering why you let him go. “That’s news to me, nice to meet you.” Taehyung responded, already feeling an intense aura of discomfort and tension between you both, sensing he was missing out on something that seemed 6 ft deep. 

“Likewise. Y/N..” Kiseok suddenly turned towards you, making you wince. You painted on your smile as you lifted your vision. “Kiseok.” 

“How’ve you been?” 

“Better than ever. You?” 

“Marvelous, just wondering what your life’s looked like since I haven’t been in it.”

“I believe I said better than ever, didn’t I?”

Kiseok scoffed unamused, “So a year, huh? In all that time you suddenly found yourself a fiancé, and Kim Taehyung at that?” Kiseok seemed to be making light-hearted conversation to anyone outside of your group, though you knew deep down the hostility behind his words.

“Yeah, I did. It just happened.” You shrugged, gaining the confidence to counter him. “And you? Plan on putting a ring on any of your girls? Maybe the 5th or 7th one you liked?” You sarcastically questioned, furrowing your brows in mock contemplation. 

“No, you know I’ve always had my eye on one girl when it came to marriage.” Kiseok eyed you knowingly, purposefully, like he was trying to make it obvious.

You snorted and glared at him, “If I remember correctly, your attitude said otherwise.” hatred began boiling under your skin. You felt yourself growing angrier by the second, memories between you two coming back in flashes. You didn’t even realize you were shaking until Taehyung’s hand suddenly entangled with yours, pulling you towards him almost defensively. 

You were surprised, looking at your connected hands and back up at Taehyung. He returned your look, peering down at you as he smiled warmly, affectionately. 

“I’m sorry, Kisook? Was it? My future wife and I have plans for tonight. May you excuse us?” Taehyung didn’t even let Kiseok respond before he was pulling you away, in complete shock at his first lack of manners you’d ever seen. You were only left to watch Taehyung as he lead you along, gaining the timely opportunity to realize he was taller than Kiseok, and in fact significantly taller than you. 

Taehyung was a large man in general, you noticed. His shoulders looked broad from behind, accentuated by the fit of his suit which also emphasized the expanse of his chest, tastefully exposing his sculpted neck. His legs were long, proportioned perfectly in accordance with the rest of his model-like figure, which was ideally fit and contained just the right amount of muscle. 

Dear God, you took your time with this one. 

You didn’t even realize Taehyung had pulled you into a secluded hallway or that you were ogling him when he suddenly stopped, turning in your direction and snapping you out of a near fever dream. 

Yeah, alcohol was not a good idea tonight. 

“Who the fuck was that?” 

“What?”

“That douche, who was that?” Taehyung inquired slightly pissed, in need of the asshole’s identity after watching whatever shitshow he didn’t pay for. 

“Nobody, Taehyung, he shouldn’t concern you.” You looked away from him, pouting in a way that made Taehyung momentarily notice the plush of your lips. 

Again?, was all he could think, first, your mother, and now this guy? Just how many people did you have bad connections with and he needed to ignore? 

Why were there so many intricate pieces to you? 

“Are you kidding me? He concerns me now, your mother I can understand but this guy? Nothing to me. I could step on him.” Taehyung proclaimed confidently and stood up broader, conviction written all over his face.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his remark, resembling the thought you had earlier. “I was just thinking, you’re a lot taller than him.” 

Taehyung couldn’t help but bite back a smile, watching you giggle like a shy high schooler and his ears gladly welcomed the soft sound. “Damn straight I am.” He adjusted the jacket of his suit suavely. It was then he remembered what his other hand was doing; still holding yours. 

His eyes suddenly gleamed with mischief. 

He squeezed your hand a little tighter and yanked you towards him, bodies just centimeters apart as you crashed into him, all up in each other’s personal space.

Your eyes widened in complete surprise. 

 “So you were thinking about me, huh?” Taehyung teased with a stupidly lowered tone, a smug grin decorating his face. 

You ignored the electricity shooting through you, rolling your eyes and playfully sneering at him. “Shut up, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see you’re taller.” You forced space between you two and tried snatching your hand from him, but his grip transformed into an iron lock. 

“Says the one who was thinking about me.” 

“Taehyung, shut-” You almost huffed out but as soon as you stepped away, your copious consumption of alcohol suddenly attacked you all at once, vertigo making you lose your balance until Taehyung reached out to steady you. 

“Jheez, did you have to drink tonight?” Taehyung chastised you as you fell into him, head spinning with disorientation and growing flimsier by the second. “You’re probably a lightweight at your size.”

“I am not a lightweight. You don’t even know how much I drank, it was a lot.” You bit back in rebuttal, hooking onto his taut forearms as he supported you. 

“But I did see.” He voiced barely above a whisper, causing you to snap your vision up at him incredulously. “What?” 

“Nothing, it shouldn’t concern you.” Taehyung mocked, though still tried to fix you onto your own footing.  

You didn’t even get to scrutinize him further when you felt another round of dizziness plague you, balance faltering again. Taehyung huffed out and finally flanked you on his side, arm encasing your shoulders as he adjusted you. “Okay Miss I’m-Not-A-Lightweight, you should eat something.” He fit you beside him, beginning to walk you towards the main hall. 

Taehyung in this moment didn’t understand what he was doing, utterly clueless as to what was fueling his actions. He was uncertain why he found himself.. caring? He didn’t even know you, yet he couldn’t help but become a little concerned when he watched you down drinks like it was New Year’s Eve. 

How can all that alcohol fit into one tiny person?

What was he even thinking when he dragged you away from that Kisuk guy? Why did he feel like protecting you all of a sudden? A near sense of possessiveness? He wasn’t even your real husband. 

It started giving Taehyung a headache. This was all strange, a foreign concept he wasn’t familiar with and he didn’t know if it was the result of his considerate personality or only manifested solely because of you.

The same way Taehyung dealt with his inner turmoil, you dealt with yours; you were always so adamant on independence though ironically found yourself leaning on Taehyung.

Oddly, you let him carefully guide you back into the hall with no protests. 

It was the day of the wedding. 

You wish you could recall your emotions throughout the day, certain there would be at least a sliver of a positive one. Though as you remained unmoving, nearly catatonic, unresponsive to your surroundings, you knew there wouldn’t be a single happy memory in the tsunami of sorrow that attacked you today. 

Emotions of grief plagued consistently as you realized the loss of everything you valued most in your life. Your happiness, your freedom, your ability to choose. The stripping of all those bundled into an stifling wad in your chest that left you in a perpetual state of wanting to cry.

The sting in your heart when you realized your mother didn’t bother to come, the excruciating smile you forced onto your features when Taehyung’s mother delicately placed the veil atop your head, the secret tears you shed after adorning your body with a wedding dress you didn’t even choose; it all left you internalizing feelings of utter agony. 

And none of it was your real choice. 

Even the flowers at the wedding weren’t your favourite. 

This day was horrifying. You couldn’t believe you prided yourself on your independence, refusing to give in despite numerous challenges and never taking a word of what anyone said to you. Even when someone begged you to change or come back to your old life, you always chose for yourself. You never allowed someone to push you around, seldom coerced into anything solely based on the wishes of another. 

Yet here you were, standing just before the grand doors of a wedding you never asked for, having easily followed every word of your father’s and sacrificed your deepest principles in order to make him happy, to appease and live up to his expectations that weren’t your own. 

It was utterly frightening, appalling. As if you had lost the one true commendable feature of the intricate character you were, suddenly lost the acclamation of others even if they didn’t know the true nature of your marriage. 

But what disgusted you the most was truly, that you had lost respect for yourself. 

These grim thoughts were the ones that attached themselves to you as you hesitantly hooked your arm with your father’s. You used every ounce of strength to not flee, to remain here, to still walk down that isle with your head held high like you always have despite abandoning every foundation of the character you’d spent years working on.  

You didn’t care that your eyes watered, masking them with the facade of happy tears from the blushing bride. You didn’t care when your father looked incredibly concerned and wondered what was so wrong, you didn’t care how sorrowful you may have appeared to anyone at this ironically glamorous event. 

Though what you did care for was that you couldn’t hold your head up as you walked down the isle, vision fixated on the ground as your tears betrayed you, spilling out at the traumatizing feeling of not being able to stand tall like you always did, something stripping you of your self-reassurance, your strength, your confidence.  

It all spelled the requiem of your soul as you reached the end, dwelling in the impossibility this was happening to you until you felt the touch of Taehyung’s fingertips, guiding you up the stairs. It was then confirmed to you this was in fact real, part of your new reality you had no choice but to accept. 

You suddenly felt eternal gratitude for the veil that now covered your face, hiding the tears you cried at mourning the loss of everything you worked for.

While the priest’s words were read, you didn’t exchange a single look with Taehyung, knowing you’d only want to evaporate into the air, to run away at light speed or have someone in a turn-of-events suddenly take your life, just so you didn't have to face the humility of giving up the life you’d spent blood, sweat and tears building if you looked him in the eye. 

You felt the weight of your unknown future crushing you, pushing you towards the precipice as you gripped Taehyung’s hands harder to ground yourself. 

You were to rely on Taehyung, to share a bond with him you had never spent time cultivating, expected to live a life next to him while never being able to truly understand him, know him, love him. The natural process of falling in love now tainted with the coercion of a pressurized marriage, losing the opportunity to achieve any true sense of love. You’d never experience finding the one anymore, your soulmate, the other end of your red string of fate. 

That realization made your tears spill harder, disconnecting your hand from Taehyung’s to prevent your choked sobs becoming audible, holding your palm against your quivering lips. 

To anyone beyond you and Taehyung, it would look as though you were crying tears of happiness, joyously weeping at your matrimony with the love of your life, though as Taehyung felt the shaking of your hands, your refusal to meet his gaze as you reluctantly walked down the isle, the agonizing pain he could see through the sheer of your veil, he knew you were far from happy. 

He couldn’t help but purse his lips together tightly, knowing you were probably swallowing insurmountable torment down your throat because of this marriage, and tears pricked at his own eyes finding himself able to relate. 

He wasn’t just upset for you or himself, it was the entire situation, quite frankly the fucking world. The fact that the universe planned this as your destiny, his destiny, that the happiness of your parents and two companies came at the expense of both yours and his.

He knew you didn’t hate him, that he wasn’t the reason just as much as you weren’t the reason either, it was the arbitrary nature of the arrangement. That whatever version of true love and happily ever after you and Taehyung had separately dreamed of, it could never come to life. 

Even if the company meant everything to Taehyung, his CEO position more important than whatever position he’d play as some husband, seldom having time to consider love and relationships, he still harboured the same wants and desires any human would. A partner, a companion he truly loved with whom he’d start a family eventually, create a life for them and himself defined by love and comfort.

Though Taehyung only knew now you would both die with your decision-making capabilities robbed of you, bound to each other forcibly without the ardor of real love. 

Taehyung’s every thought was proven correct when the two of you exchanged your vows in near strangled chokes and shaky tones, appearing as happy emotions to the guests of the wedding though only you two knowledgeable of each other’s suffering. 

Your vision finally met Taehyung’s once you heard the rawness in his voice, your miserable emotions doubling when you registered he was just in the same pain as you. It was in that moment the priest’s words became audible and rang loud in both your ears, suddenly grounding you two to earth and reminding you of your reality. 

“You may kiss the bride.”

Both of your eyes grievously locked for a moment of horrified realization; that you were seconds away from going through with this, throwing each other’s lives away for the utilitarian benefit, abandoning any sense of choice in whom you both would spend a lifetime with.

Taehyung swallowed thickly as he removed your veil, feeling his eyes fill with tears again when he laid them upon your utterly devastated, tear-stained face. You were using every nerve in your body to stop yourself from sobbing and caving into the ominous thought of fleeing the ceremony.  

Taehyung’s sight wondered to your lips as they still quivered, nearly swollen red at the intensity in which you bit them, awaiting the kiss you were certain would be filled with frustration and hatred, hatred for the mud you were dragging him through, hatred for pressuring him into suddenly valuing something more than his work and his company, to suddenly become a husband to you. 

Though as he watched the terror flashing through your eyes, tears watering your lash line, he knew he could never feel anything so ardently negative towards you, remembering exactly what he was stripping you of. 

The life you built on your own, defying any and everyone’s expectations of yourself, cursing your heir status to hell, your strength, your independence. Now? Your life was bound to his, bound to one where you were obliged to sacrifice yourself for your father’s company and the upper class cesspool you’d spent so long trying to run away from. 

So as Taehyung began closing the gap between you two, nearing your shaking figure, he resolved he wouldn’t make this hard. He would try, try to accept that his life now entailed you, would try to work towards the balance his father insisted he needed, try to understand that you were now part of his priorities and could never simply ignore you.  

He glided his thumbs against the back of your hands that held his pacifyingly, leaning down until he was just inches from your lips as you squeezed your eyes shut. He unexpectedly spoke quietly, meaningfully, seconds away from sealing the deal of an uncertain future, though, remained certain of this one thing. 

“I’ll take care of you, Y/N, I promise.” And he kissed you in a single breath, no haste, no pressure, only the gentle touch of his lips as they met yours, soft and light. 

Maybe Taehyung didn’t know the exact feelings behind his promise, but he knew the meaning; that no matter the arrangement, the non-existent feelings, the loss of choice, he would at least take care of you like any husband would, a good husband.  

He at least owed you that.  

You were left shocked at the nature of his kiss, Taehyung’s warm lips connecting with yours tenderly. You were convinced the tears you saw in his eyes were enough to assert he hated this, frustrated he had to sell his soul, wishing to only rush the kiss so he could call it a day and ignore you for the rest of his life. 

Though what you never expected was the promise he made, or the way he kissed you with such intimacy you found yourself melting into his touch, reciprocating. He kissed you like you were fragile, locking your lips in a way that solidified his promise, as if out of all the empty vows you spoke today, this was the one, true vow he would keep. His lips felt plush against yours, catching his mouth just a little more before the bittersweet disconnection. 

You and Taehyung exchanged a poignant look, small smiles decorating both your faces with a mutual understanding swimming in your eyes as you gripped each other’s hands. You let his promise permeate the air between you two, finding solace in his words as the applause of everyone attending the ceremony filled the hall.   

Maybe it was the warm way Taehyung always pressed his hand to the small of your back when you spoke to others the whole night, maybe the way he veered you away from excessive amounts of alcohol with a light-hearted scolding considering that last time you drank, or maybe even the way he gently held you during your first dance..

Maybe it was all these considerate, kinds act that made you view Taehyung in a less negative light and rather a favourable one, that maybe he wouldn’t be the asshole CEO you’d first accused him of being.  

You would also be an idiot to not mention how completely and utterly handsome he was, looks carved by the Greeks themselves, quite possibly the hottest, most attractive man you’ve ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. 

And maybe all that accumulated into your assured opinion that when it came to consummating your marriage with Taehyung, you’d have no qualms or worries whatsoever. You would be absolutely willing, ready to take the night on and maybe even have some fun for yourself with whom you could tell was a really, really nice guy.

Though as Taehyung walked calmly in front of you towards your hotel suite, reaching into his suit pocket for the card key he’d retrieved at the front desk to swipe against the lock, your chest clogged with a crushing feeling of anxiety you couldn’t subdue. 

These weren’t the same nerves of maybe being not pretty enough, body insecurities or fear of what to expect from Taehyung, no, these nerves came from the utter panic of having to experience sex with another man.

Especially since your last partner. 

It always started with your permission, that wasn’t the issue, Though what left you afraid, so utterly frightened with the thought of spending a night with a man like this came from the treatment you received from that partner. 

Safe to say, you weren’t treated kindly. Far from that, actually, you were treated as though you had no needs or were a means of simple use. Your last partner was the opposite of giving, he was selfish, self-absorbed and only concerned himself with his own pleasure, going on and on only until he was satisfied and neglected you in every sense of the word, sometimes even refusing to listen to you if you protested. 

To make matters worse, he wasn’t faithful. 

You knew he slept around, a lot, it was the number one reason you never agreed to actually date him, never make things official. 

But the reason you would end up sleeping with him was because of the most perfectly imperfect concept among the human race; love. You believed every time with him was a new chance to make that love real, that it was the genuine manifestation of your feelings for one another, thinking maybe he wasn’t the asshole he always portrayed himself as and could man up enough to love you unconditionally. 

And he completely reeled you in, made you fall in love too quickly and made you believe he was capable of love. This grew exponentially when you were often described as ‘the different one’, the one he always came back to, that you were special. You clung onto those words as much as you could, convinced each time you were in fact the one for him, that maybe one day, he’d wake up and abandon his fuckboy lifestyle and mature.

But everyday that went by, every promise that was never fulfilled, every word that wasn’t met with an action, and especially after every hook up that resulted in nothing new, you began to understand you were everyone’s favourite role in a Shakespearean play. 

The fool. 

You were a joke to believe anything he said, the most naive person on earth to think you were any different from the others, when every night simply ended in rough fucks, virtually no orgasm and miniscule aftercare.

It left you essentially scarred, traumatized that every man in the world was built like this. It didn’t help that whenever you look back, many of your ex partners were of the same cut, the same trope of assholes that don’t seem as bad but end up being exactly so. 

It was what made you swallow thickly as Taehyung opened the door to the suite, holding it open as he moved aside to let you enter first. You walked forward and unintentionally brushed against him, realizing how much smaller you were in comparison to him all over again. 

He towered over you, and it made you more nervous. 

You looked up at him momentarily and quietly thanked him as you stepped inside, setting your sights on the large, king sized bed situated on one side of the room, a lounging area with couches to the other side which lead to a bathroom. Seoul’s breathtaking skyline was visible in the dark of the night through wall-to-ceiling windows opposite to you, covered by flowy, sheer curtains. 

You took a deep breath, trying to remind yourself Taehyung was not the same. Not all men are the same, you can’t inflict the mistakes and wrongdoings of one man onto another, categorize them into one kind. You wanted to think this way, and you knew it was the humane way to think. 

But as the memories of those heart-aching nights filled your head, the empty words, the lack of care or concern, the neglect, the feelings of pure abandonment and use only caused your heart to beat profusely in your chest, clutching onto the neckline of your dress to breathe. 

What if Taehyung really was no different?

It then suddenly hit you you didn’t know him. All you knew of Taehyung was that he was a fiercely successful business man, sitting atop Seoul’s most prestigious with Godly looks and a stare that could kill a man. You remembered your initial feelings about him; his stare in fact intimidated you, quite frankly all of him intimidated you, he was the epitome of perfection and you were far from that very notion. It left you thinking you didn’t measure up, and that he could view you in a dissimilar light than you viewed him; an unfavorable one. 

He could simply not want you, but is forced to.  

You’d observed his kind behavior and actions over the odd two days you met him, though that was exactly the inculpatory factor; you had only met him twice. You didn’t know what he would be like alone, when it was just the two of you, when there weren’t eyes scrutinizing him and cameras snapping shots of his every move. 

You didn’t know how he would be like in the bedroom, either. 

Your mind raced as you conflicted with yourself, trying to understand that Taehyung could be different, though apprehensive with the miniscule knowledge you actually had of him. 

You discerned after that last asshole of a partner you needed the love and care of a real partner, someone who would tend to your needs, adore you in the midst of their actions, be a giver and not just a receiver.  

And you didn’t know if Taehyung would be that partner. 

“Y/N...” Taehyung called out to you rather softly as he removed his suit jacket, the rustling of the cloth signaling he had indeed done so. His footsteps were hard to miss, the soles of his shoes sounding against the hardwood floor as he neared your lonesome figure standing in the middle of the room. 

Your breathing quickened with nearly every step he took, attempting to resolve the civil war you were battling within. You were trying to convince yourself Taehyung would be a nice man, a nice husband; though couldn’t help but feel deflated by the fact it was all mainly coerced out of him.

Your thoughts overwhelmed you as Taehyung finally stood behind you, mere inches from your back as he watched you from behind, unbeknownst of any feelings or thoughts currently riddling you.

He hesitated, though gently placed his hand against your bare arm, the sudden warmth of his hand against your skin causing you to flinch. He peered down at your smaller self squarely focusing in front of you, anticipating your response. He grew slightly soft when you tentatively looked over your shoulders, clearly teary-eyed. 

Taehyung couldn’t miss how scared you seemed, and he his heart inexplicably stung at the thought you were afraid of him. 

“We don’t have to do this.” Taehyung’s voice was low and resembled warm honey, reverberating in a way that made you ease up. 

You worked towards a stable voice. “W-we don’t?” 

“No, we don’t” His voice held no disappointment, only the intention of seemingly wanting to assure you, firm and oddly comforting. 

“I’m sorry, Taehyung. I’m really sorry.” It was hard to keep your tone leveled, clutching your hand over your mouth as you swallowed your emotions. 

“Don’t be sorry, there’s nothing for you to apologize for.” 

You strangely felt the desire to hold his hand that rested against you, though you ignored the urge and simply stepped out of his touch, clutching your chest tightly in an effort to cower away from him. But it was here you suddenly remembered that he kissed you, and the way he did so. 

It made your cheeks fill with a rosy blush. 

“Do you mean that?” You’d finally turned to meet his eyes, his face only visible by the moonlight illuminating the room. He seemed to have retracted his hand and stood with both tucked in his pockets, relaxed. 

This became the first time you noticed just how ravishing he looked tonight. 

His dark hair was slicked back loosely and left enough pieces to fall as a comma, graciously exposing his forehead, his Tom Ford suit attractively hugged his model-like body, watch and accessories accentuating his expensive look. 

His features were casted over by soft lighting, somehow adding to his beauty as the glow made him appear... less intimidating, dare you say warm or inviting. 

His expression was funnily enough, one that you could actually read. He held no contempt, no impatience or anger, only a hint of consideration as his calm eyes looked at you. His face may have been predominantly blank, void of a smile, though certainty held a form of reassurance.  

“Of course I do, why would I do anything with an unwilling person?”

You scoffed lightly, “Not a lot of people would say that.” Your eyes faltered from Taehyung’s and clutched yourself tighter, expression completely telling of trauma.

Taehyung instantly picked up on it, eyebrows slightly furrowing at your words though softening once registering their weight. He felt an overwhelming sense of apology take him, thinking of his next sentence before his mind oddly flashed back to the night of the engagement party.

“Y/N, did Kiseok..?” Taehyung trailed hesitantly. 

You winced at his line of thinking, “No, no...not what you’re thinking,” you immediately denied. “Just, shitty experiences.”

“Shitty, as in...?”

“As in only seeking self-satisfaction, neglect, lies, infidelity. Can we go to sleep?” You deflected with a heavy sigh and a hand at your temple, the day’s events catching up to you.

Taehyung nodded in agreement, “Yeah, sleep. We both need that.” His eyes then landed on the bed, registering even if it were large enough you two could sleep apart, he still opted for caution. 

“Um.. you can take the bed, by the way. I’ll sleep on the couch-”

“No, don’t do that.” You replied quickly. “I can’t sleep on a king-sized bed all by myself, it’s huge.” You side-eyed the massive mattress and laughed a little, lightening the heavy aura casted over the room. 

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to be uncomf-”

“Don’t worry, Taehyung. You don’t make me feel uncomfortable.” You smiled at him lightly and received a small one from him, both your eyes mirroring the same sense of understanding you exchanged at the altar. 

“I’ll let you wash up first, your overnight bag should be in the bathroom closet.” Taehyung informed, pointing towards the direction of your things. 

“Thank you.” You voiced with an amount of warmth that made Taehyung want to genuinely smile, though crushed the weird urge and nodded agreeably instead.

You began walking away from him until a nuisance suddenly occurred to you, cursing yourself as you came to a full stop. “Um, Taehyung.. I forgot but could you..?” You angled your back towards him to call out to the ribbons tying the back of your dress, knowing you would’ve taken 20 years just to untie your bodice yourself. 

The fact that you weren’t looking directly at Taehyung made him feel relieved, glad he wouldn’t embarrass himself with the his eyes slightly widened. He was quick to reprimand himself, it’s just a woman’s dress, why the hell are you shocked? 

Taehyung swallowed dryly before replying, “Uh, yeah I’ll--I’ll do that.” He walked towards you sparingly and positioned himself behind you.

He’d noticed it before, but you were relatively small compared to him in size and it continued to poke at his brain, maybe even momentarily think it was cute. 

Cute? When have I ever found a girl cute?

Taehyung exhaled before his hands carefully made for the silk ribbons, his tentative fingers fiddling with the ties until he eventually began loosening each one. He started unlooping your bodice, breathing out considerably when each loop began exposing your back inch by inch.  

Taehyung’s sweet, hot breath fanned your skin, tensing each time as your every nerve went haywire feeling just how close he was. His slender fingers brushed against your bare skin here and there, making heat collect in your face.

You grew even hotter when your kiss with him suddenly crept back into your mind, unknowing of the reason why excitement and electricity shot throughout your body because of it. The way his soft, full lips met yours, mouthed at you tastefully repeated in your head, making you extremely nervous at how much a measly kiss from him was occupying your mind; it was just a kiss. 

Taehyung found himself tensing by the intimacy of the moment, remembering the way he so boldly kissed you. He found that he liked the plush of your lips, the way he had to bend down to your smaller height to lock lips; and it made him feel strange. 

How the hell was he taking interest in something other than his work? No, this isn’t interest, Taehyung thought, and would spend however long denying it. 

He’d finished the task throughout all his thinking, unrealizing of how proximal he was to you. He oddly hated that the moment was over, coming back down to Earth.

“There you go.” He cleared his voice and stepped away from you. 

You held your bodice up against your chest, realizing Taehyung had a full-access view of your back and you grew 10x hotter. You gulped at the thought before hastily turning around to thank him, quickly disappearing into the bathroom for a moment of reprieve. 

You shut the door and instantly breathed out a breath you didn’t remember holding, looking at your hot mess of a face in the mirror trying to cool down, reliving the last 10 minutes of what just happened. 

You took a deep breath. 

Maybe Taehyung is different after all. 

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[momsopposed2theoccult]

It’s come to my attention that a good majority of people on this website have a really poor understanding of the conflict between Toph and Katara in “The Chase.” As somebody who loves both characters and their friendship, this irritates me. Without further ado, let’s unpack that in what is in theory supposed to be a meta but turned out more like a rant. 

“Katara was hostile towards Toph because the fact that she’s a gender non-conforming girl made Katara uncomfortable because Katara is obsessed with gender roles.”

Alright, so right off the bat this is just... completely idiotic and clearly fuelled by an agenda (and likely also a lot of projection). First of all, how is Katara of “I don’t want to heal, I want to fight!” fame “obsessed with gender roles?” There’s an entire episode in Book One dedicated to Katara refusing to conform to societal norms for women in the Northern Water Tribe! Katara routinely calls Sokka out on his misogynistic bullshit! (Mind you I adore Sokka but he could be a little twerp at times and Katara was 100% right to challenge him on it) Katara is the feminist icon of ATLA! The fact that people act like Katara is some sort of conservative tradwife who loves gender roles instead of the outspoken feminist and political activist she is makes me incredibly angry.

Second of all, Katara was extremely kind and welcoming towards Toph at first. She gently encouraged her to join in with the group as they all set up camp together as opposed to setting up her own private camp. It’s only when Toph refuses to comply with her that Katara begins to get irritated. Mind you, Toph has her reasons for this, something I’ll get to in a minute, but from Katara’s perspective (key word here is perspective) she’s just being an annoying little stubborn, selfish, lazy, anti-social, entitled brat. Of course we the audience find out later that this isn’t the case at all (or at least in theory we should find out later but apparently some people on here skipped that part), but for all her many talents Katara is not a mind reader and has no way of knowing what’s going on inside Toph’s head, nor does she know her well enough yet to fully grasp the context behind why Toph acts the way she does. Katara is somebody who greatly values community and believes in teamwork, so Toph turning down her warm welcome in favour of “carrying her own weight” likely felt like a slap in the face. Not to mention that she’s already emotionally exhausted from having to constantly mother Aang and Sokka. If I were Katara, I likely would have reacted the same way. 

Oh and I agree that the “the stars look beautiful tonight, too bad you can’t see them, Toph” comment was out of line, but it doesn’t make her a horrible person. It makes her a 14 year old, and 14 year olds can be nasty, especially sleep deprived 14 year olds. Katara is otherwise a very kind and compassionate person. Other characters have said worse than that. Hell, Toph herself has said worse than that. That being said, it was a deeply hurtful comment and I do like to imagine that she apologized for it off-screen. 

“Toph is a lazy, entitled, and classist spoiled rich brat who just didn’t want to do chores and expected other people to wait on her.” 

This is another one that makes me roll my eyes and ask if they even watched the show. First of all, the presumption that Toph is a lazy or entitled person is just... laughable. I feel like people forget that Toph isn’t actually an earthbending prodigy in the way that Azula is a firebending prodigy (I could say more about Azula and how her belief that she was the unshakeable prodigal daughter ultimately caused her downfall and how by the end of the series Zuko is arguably a better firebender than her but this isn’t a meta about Azula and Zuko, now is it?). Nah. Toph was a sheltered kid who discovered she had the ability to earthbend, was told that she could never become great at it because she was blind, and in response said FUCK THAT and decided to work her ass off until she was not only great but the very greatest all thanks to her crazy, stupid, off-the-charts nerve, drive, grit, ambition, and desire to prove people wrong about her. Does that sound like a lazy person to you? Believe me when I say that you do not achieve that kind of skill level by sitting around on your ass and expecting to have things handed to you. And entitled? Don’t make me laugh. Toph hates having things handed to her, that’s one of her defining characteristics. 

As for the implication that she’s classist and enjoys basking in her family’s wealth and being waited on...... are you stupid? Did you even watch the show? Toph absolutely despises everything about her parents’ lifestyle. Growing up like that was traumatizing and restrictive for her. We’re talking about a girl who likes to play around in the mud for fuck’s sake. Toph does not care how much money you have. She never wanted any to begin with. She even says it herself; “I guess I shouldn’t be complaining. They gave me everything I could have wanted. But they never gave me what I actually needed - their love.” Not to mention that she easily could have continued to freeload off her parents wealth but instead chose to sneak out of the house and make her own money doing what she did best; disproving people’s assumptions about her earthbending. Oh and I’ve seen someone point this out before but WWE is generally considered a “low brow” activity that “proper” people frown upon and shouldn’t associate themselves with. Toph fucking loved it. I don’t know how seriously people take the comics, as they often miss the mark when it comes to characterization (Toph’s, however, was generally pretty accurate), but there’s a part in The Rift where Sokka asks her when she’s going to start charging people to learn metalbending and she gets all serious and flat out tells him that she will never do such a thing, because money doesn’t matter to her. Sharing her one true passion with the world is what matters to her. Oh and the part where she basically tells a bunch of rich and sleazy businessmen to fuck off and “stop thinking about money and start thinking about people’s lives” is just... *chef’s kiss* Sorry my thoughts here are so incoherent but this take is so piss poor and makes me so angry that I don’t even know where to start. As for “Toph enjoys being waited on” I just- *sigh* Toph has such a visceral and defensive reaction to any implication that she is unable to take care of herself. Like I said earlier, that’s one of her defining characteristics as well as the reason for her behaviour in “The Chase.” Where are people getting these takes?

You wanna know why Toph acted the way she did in The Chase? Well, first let’s recap her life up to this point. Toph was born the blind daughter of one of the wealthiest families in the Earth Kingdom. From day one her parents treated her like glass due to her disability. She was not allowed to leave her house unsupervised, and even then she was only permitted to walk around the gardens of her home. Every day of her life she was pitied, gaslit, babied, ignored, emotionally neglected, and made to feel ashamed of herself. She was not allowed to make any decisions for herself. She was not allowed to do anything for herself. She was not allowed to talk to other children. She had no friends. Other people didn’t even know she existed on account that her parents kept her locked up in her own home and didn’t tell anybody about her because they were so ashamed to have a blind daughter. Flash forward to “The Chase.” Toph begins to set up her own camp separate from the rest of the Gaang. Considering that she flat out was not socialized as a child and hadn’t even interacted with anybody her own age prior to a few days ago, this is understandable. So then Katara comes up to her and asks her why she isn’t setting up camp with the others as if she’s somehow incapable of taking care of herself (again, this is just what happened from her perspective) like she’s her mom or something and it just angers her because she thought she joined this group to get away from all that and she doesn’t understand how friends work because she’s never had one, all she knows is that apparently this girl thinks she isn’t capable of taking care of herself, and that infuriates her because it’s the exact same bullshit she thought she was running away from.

There’s a lot more I could say about this but I’m sick of typing so yeah in conclusion both of these takes are piss poor and I’m sick of having to read them. Stan Toph, Katara, and their friendship. 

[catgirlxox]

A Deconstruction of The Flame Keeper’s Circle & The Audience’s Common Complaints | Catgirl

As the title states, I’ve been reminded of a couple complaints made about this episode that stem from a large portion of the audience’s general disliking of the way both Ben and Julie were handled during the run of Ultimate Alien. In fact, I recently read a "review" of “The Flame Keeper's Circle,” or, more of a parody, actually, since a review would actually have some kind of substance to it and not just...a slew of insults thrown at a show you claim to like. It's almost like you're looking for something to be mad at, but anyway.

One of those was the OP actually asking someone to (probably joking, but anyway) explain "how Ben's mind works" to them.

And I was like, gladly!

According to the comments under the review, it seems like the general audience didn't really like this episode all that much when it first aired. Which, I bring up because, I on the other hand, actually did. And for a reason: because it proves my previous defence points right.

There's a lot of talk about Ben coming off as a “jerk” or a “douchebag”...but, in a situation such as the one presented within “The Flame Keeper’s Circle,” I would argue he did exactly what he should have done. So that's where I beg to differ.

This episode puts Ben in a position where he, once again, needs to deal with the overlap of a romantic relationship and his priorities as a superhero. The only reason there is conflict here is because they are both important to him.

A bad boyfriend would only care about himself, but Ben clearly cares about not only the safety of his (clearly, quite naive) girlfriend, but also the safety of the rest of the earth. Which, as I’m going to be stating several times, should be something expected of him considering everything else within the series that establishes who he is as a character.

So, on the topic of things that are important, ask yourselves, why would Ben prioritize going along with Julie's idea of joining a cult more than keeping her, and the rest of the world, safe when he realizes the trouble she could potentially be getting herself into?

Throughout the episode, and the fandom’s discussions from what I’ve seen, there is so much focus on "oh, he laughed at her idea so he's a douchebag and therefore a bad boyfriend" and not enough focus on the fact that he's not blindly following an alleged “good cause” because he isn't naive and that's in character based on everything we know about him as a character.

Context matters. And this kind of thing only further makes me question the people who want to cry "inconsistent" writing or characterization because he's acting the way he's been conditioned to.

Arguably from the age of ten, Ben's been dealing with situations where he needed to fight to survive and decide who to trust. Sometimes he trusted the wrong person, which wasn't done out of any other reason besides wanting to help and do the "right thing."

For example, Michael Morningstar in the episode “All That Glitters,” who fooled Ben and his team into thinking he was innocent all while abusing school girls for their life energy and almost killing Ben's cousin.

Or, Simian in “Birds of a Feather," who fooled Ben into thinking he was royalty and into helping him steal something that would aid the Highbreed in their mass murder plot.

In that way, Ben and Julie could have related in this situation because they were both trusting people in the interest of doing something “good.” Both Michael and Simian made Ben believe that they had something in common, or a common goal they could work together to reach. But, he trusted them blinded by his ambition and drive to save the world. Much like Julie is blinded by the promise of being a part of a group trying to make the world a better place.

As such, Ben has made the mistake before, so he's extra weary of how things could go very wrong. He's not against his girlfriend just to be a “jerk” - he's been through things like this before, and we’ve seen him go through those things.

Furthermore, the situation in which Julie is trusting The Flame Keeper’s Circle involves her indirectly agreeing to work with Vilgax. Who, as anyone familiar with Ben should know, is one of if not Ben’s biggest, and more importantly, most dangerous enemy.

Again, she, at the beginning didn’t know that he was involved, or what Ben had gone through already to make him act the way he does in this situation, but she does know what his job entails at this point in the series. She should probably infer that he’s suspicious for a good reason, as should the audience.

Not trusting people blindly is something he learned from being the leader of his team, while trying to protect the earth, namely from the Highbreed invasion back in Alien Force when he was putting together a stronger team. It would only make sense for him to then apply that to a situation in which his significant other gets roped into that which he fights against.

Speaking of fighting against, that brings me to another odd criticism of the writing of this episode. It’s no surprise that the flawed belief of Ben coming off as an alleged “sociopath” is brought up again, considering this episode takes place after The Ultimate Kevin arc. And yes, I realize the problematic connotations of using that term as a borderline insult as part of the issue here. But that aside, in this episode, the fact that he begins to fight Vilgax in his apparent “weakened” state is what is being attributed to that description.

Besides the fact that defending Vilgax is questionable in itself, he’s never needed water to survive for the many times he actually tried to kill Ben. I can’t find a solid answer from a writer that knows for certain if his need for water is genuine except for one who is only assuming that is the case when he’s in this state.

But regardless, (since he clearly survived long enough to morph with Dagon and become a bigger threat to the earth later on) we are still defending Vilgax the LITERAL INTERGALACTIC WARLORD.

Y’know, the guy who’s only in this position because of his own immoral actions? Who absolutely would not hesitate to take advantage of his opponent's weakened state in order to further get away with his immoral actions? Such as he is in this very episode, taking advantage of the people wrongfully worshiping him?

If we are trying to imply that Ben is “just as bad as Vilgax,” then I would assume you’d easily find the flaw in that being Ben’s motivation for incapacitating a dangerous offender who is, at the moment, manipulating naive humans to work for him and help him continue get away with his immoral actions. Which is, needless to say, not the same as Vilgax, at all.

Again, you’d think that’d be obvious.

The Flame Keeper’s Circle’s mission is to end human suffering and find a solution to certain issues happening across the globe with the help of alien technology that is much more advanced than what everyday people are used to. And, while the end goal seems like a good cause, even something Ben as a superhero would be all for, the means through which they attempt to get there aren’t a good idea, at all.

A lot of people find it hard to navigate the use of technology considered advanced by human standards in the real world, so you can only imagine the various things that could go wrong if those kinds of people were suddenly exposed to something much more powerful. In short, a lot could go wrong.

Again, Ben has been in that exact position as soon as he was armed with the Omnitrix. Which is exactly why he’d see the flaw in what these people are trying to do, and therefore not be convinced that it’s such a good idea to allow them to continue, much less endorse it.

This is why I love when the writers actually allow Ben to speak for himself instead of cutting him off for drama or plot. Once he actually gets a word in, or more accurately, has his moment of heroic monologue, he makes himself very clear and, I think, only further proves what I’m trying to say about him.

Here he is, explaining exactly what I’ve been trying to highlight throughout this body of work:

Ben: “Even if Dagon was real, using alien technology to accelerate a planet’s natural development won’t bring utopia, it’ll bring disaster. It’s happened before. Why do you think the Plumbers have those laws? But even that’s not the point, because that isn’t Dagon! His name is Vilgax. He’s not a hero, he’s a selfish, evil warlord who’s using you. And if you let him get in his ship, he’s going to fly off and start an interstellar civil war.”

It’s not that only he can use alien technology to save the world, it’s that his status as a hero proves that he knows what he’s doing, unlike these businessmen in fancy robes leading a cult for profit.

That is not what I would have assumed reasonable people would consider “douchebag behaviour.” That’s actually smart, and going back to my first point, exactly what he should be doing in a situation like this.

The actual episode does end off on a positive note for both Ben and Julie, which is omitted from the review and most of the comments I have read from others on the topic. And, I bring it up because it’s actually vital to wrap up everything brought up within this episode that I have just expanded on. Not only because they make up and seem to understand each other’s perspective after all is said and done, but because they both agree to be open to further discussion on the topic, as Ben offers to go out for dinner.

Which, needless to point out I hope, but once again, is not “douchebag behaviour.”

[jinx-jade]

AWBE Chapter 12: Home

Marinette woke up in a hospital room.

She sat up to get a better look at her surroundings, trying to assess if she should run or stay put.

Marinette hissed quietly at the jolting pain that felt like pins and needles stabbing into her skin as it was about to rip apart.

Knowing her injuries, both past and present, her skin probably was going to rip and reopen her wounds.

Not wanting to deal with a freshly reopened wound, Marinette forced her body to relax in hopes of not disturbing her bandaged injuries.

All thoughts of remaining as still as possible disappeared as Marinette’s head snapped in the direction of her hospital room door when she heard the sound of two voices the bluenette wasn’t sure she would ever hear again.

She heard the female voice talk to someone in her usual ‘I mean business’ tone of voice and it made her feel slightly bad for the people on the other end of the call, but at the same time, they probably deserved it.

The old memories of that voice talking down to incompetent businessmen made her want to laugh.

And just like that, a switch was flipped.

The realization that it hadn't been some kind of horrible nightmare hit.

The realization that here and now isn’t some kind of dream disguised nightmare where she would be free and then wake up to being whipped or having water thrown on her hit.

Both feelings hit a lot harder than she thought they would.

The bluenette didn’t know what to do with the swirling emotions that had built up over the years.

How many years was it?

If she’s remembering correctly then it would be around eight years.

No.

It’s been an additional three years of not feeling negative emotions.

It’s been eleven years since she’s allowed herself to feel her emotions freely and the next thing Marinette knows she’s curled up on herself and started crying.

Her cries grew into sobs as she finally broke down.

That seemed to get the attention of her Aunt and Uncle who instantly rushed into the room to see what was wrong

“Hey, my little star. It’s okay. You’re home.” Jagged cooed at her, gently running his hands through her tangled hair.

The words, ‘you’re home’ made the bluenette sob harder.

‘Kwami, was she real home? Was it finally over?’ Marinette couldn’t help but think to herself.

Penny and Jagged alternated between making phone calls and talking to Marinette while she cried, reassuring her that she was safe and that she was home.

It was a tricky thing to balance between who was in the room and who was not, because if one of them was out of the bluenette’s sight for too long she seemed to get anxious. As if something was going to happen.

Once the phone calls were over and done, a nurse came into the room with her dismissal papers.

By that time Marinette had already exhausted all of her tears.

She looked at the papers for a bit before raising a brow at Jagged and Penny.

“Did you think I would forget how much you hate hospitals, Little star?” Penny questioned with a soft smile.

Marinette gave her Aunt a small, grateful smile.

She tried to thank her but her voice got stuck in her throat.

The bluenette furrowed her brows in confusion.

She had been able to talk before.

She had been able to talk at the temple, at the League, and at the bar, so why couldn’t she speak now?

After a few more attempts to speak it became clear that her voice wouldn’t listen to her.

Instead, it just felt as if she was choking on her own words.

The feeling of tears being trapped in her throat returned when she tried to speak yet she didn’t start crying.

Penny waved a nurse down to check on her but they couldn’t find anything wrong.

The nurse suggested that whatever happened had probably traumatized her more than she thought and as a response, she may have become mute, or selectively mute. In the best-case scenario, she was simply too tired for her voice to function properly.

Penny thanked the nurse before helping Marinette up and into a change of clothes.

After being discharged Marinette was taken to Stone Manor on the outskirts of Gotham.

“Here we are,” Jagged exclaimed, helping Marinette out of the car.

“Feel free to explore to your heart’s content. I have to start on dinner.” Penny said, kissing Marinette on her forehead.

Jagged led Marinette to her new room with the promise to go shopping tomorrow or whenever she was up for it so that she can personalize it however she wants.

Marinette gave her Uncle a small, grateful smile before beginning to wander around the Manor in hopes of clearing her head.

Ever since waking up from what she had been informed was a week-long ‘nap’ after the whole bar incident she’s been able to sense everyone far better than she could previously.

That was probably due to finally having some proper sleep but at this point, who knows.

The main emotion she could sense directed at her was pity, concern, gratefulness, and relife.

Pity and concern being the more prominent emotions.

She hated it but figured that it would fade away over time.

With that thought Marinette reentered her bedroom, placing a few magic barriers around the room. The barriers ranging from being protective, to simply alerting her when someone is heading towards her room.

Once all the barriers were up, Marinette placed an invisibility illusion over herself before opening a portal into the alleyway from before.

The bluenette quickly grabbed the miracle box before jumping back through her portal and into her bedroom.

Marinette placed the miracle box in her closet with new invisibility and a protective barrier cast over it.

Satisfied with the miracle box being safe in her care, Marinette let herself drift off to sleep, taking a nap before dinner.

tag list:  @liquid-luck-00 @lunathealphafemale @certainmuffinbagelcalzone @dorkus-minimus @istoleyourcookies @itsmeevie01 @ive-tumbled-down-a-rabbit-hole @miraculousfanfic127 @macncheesemonster @fan-written @moonlightstar64 @the-one-woman-army @remy-289 @ramos123 @jjmjjktth @ash-amg @glastwime859 @alysrose-starchild @elizabeths-rambles @animegirlweeb @iamabrownfox @northernbluetongue @thecaptainthunder @meismu @nyx-in-line @sunflowers-and-mooncakes @m3owww @icerosecrystal @legends-live-in-memories @salty-fang @a-marlene-s @savagenutella46 @elliebelliegirl @fangirlfox12 @miraculouspenta @t1dwarrior-of-earth @alittlemelody716 @charme-de-malchan @what-even-am-i-tho @raven-campanile @toodaloo-kangaroo @laurcad123 @iamabrownfox @maskedpainter @our-preciousss @jayjayspixiepop @kking13 @stainedglassm @always-a-fangirl146 @corporeal-terrestrial

[leonardhoee]

Ikevamp Guys as Villains

Warnings: Mass Murder, Gore...

Tagging: @aurora-morning @delicateikemenmemes @writer-akihiko @nafeary

Napoleon

Napoleon would be a royal dictator. He is the leader of a corrupt, authoritarian regime, hellbent on conquering the world. Think Hela (Thor: Ragnarok or The Darkling (Shadow and Bone). He controls people with his massive armies, and believes he is the only rightful ruler in this world. He believes that the world should be remade in his image so it can be restored to its former glory. He craves power and he will stop at nothing to get it. His armies are tools that swore their lives and souls to his cause. He feels no remorse in sacrificing them for his greater good. The only thing that would satisfy him now, is seeing the world crushed under the heel of his boot.

Leonardo

Leo as a villain would be like Iron Man gone bad. He does what he does simply out of curiosity he wants to see if it would even work. Cyberterrorism is just a tool for him. He would make modifications to his own body so that his eyes can see x-Ray, night vision, and other people’s biological information, and his brain is directly connected to the internet. He would create an entire army of robots like Ultron (Marvel) or Terminators. He hacks into government servers and international television broadcasts. He takes over entire governments simply by sitting in his lab controlling his army from a tablet. He can destroy anything connected to the internet with a flick of his finger. He wouldn’t even have to get up out of his chair. His plans would be so well thought out that no one would realize what happened until they’ve already lost.

Dazai

Dazai would be unhinged and reckless. He’d completely detach himself from human emotions and commit as many insane heinous crimes as possible till he does something bad enough that he would get killed for it. He creates an alternate persona for himself like the Joker or Hisoka (HxH), and at that point he has buried his emotions so well that he fails to differentiate between his persona and his true self. He may not actively acknowledge it but his true goal is to just go out in a blaze. It doesn’t matter how many lives it costs to do so.

Jean

Jean would be walking a fine line between villain and antihero. His main motivation is wiping out the people he considers evil, to make the world a “better place”. However, he would take it to a point of mass murder. There would be major battles breaking out between the people that support him and the people that believe what he is doing is evil. He believes he is bringing divine justice upon those who deserve it and thinks this is the way to atone for his past sins. Sound familiar? Jean would be Kira (Death Note). He is also similar to The Hood (Arrow). He has no mercy and he will not hesitate to kill.

Comte

Comte is rich enough to buy world leaders. He is the puppet master behind every single nation of the world. No one suspects him, however he slowly takes over countries one by one. He would also run some kind of underground mafia operation that’s involved in pretty much every kind of trade there is. He gets his money from so many sources that even if one is cut off, he is still rich enough to maintain his control over politicians and famous businessmen. Comte is the leader of the secret societies that the world’s richest people are involved in. The world answers to him and you would never even know. (Similar to Kingpin (Marvel) and the Court of Owls (DC)

Sebastian

Sebastian was adopted by Comte after ran away from his family. When he was young, hs saw firsthand how cruel the world can really be. He wholeheartedly believes the world is better off being run by Comte, and has pledged complete loyalty to him. He is Comte’s right hand man and he runs most of their underground mafia operations. He is incredibly versatile and does whatever Comte needs from him. Acting as a proxy? Assasinating a world leader? Leading a heist? Sebastian can do it all. His ideals have been so skewed growing up with Comte, that he sees himself as an extension of Comte’s power. Nothing more. He is a loyal weapon to be used by his boss.

Vincent

Vincent would release his emotions and would be unable to handle it mentally. He would be a serial killer who escaped from an asylum after losing his mind. He would kidnap his victims and slowly bleed them out as he paints with their blood. His specialty is carving designs into his victims after they have bled out and died. He leaves a sunflower at every crime scene and each new murder is just his latest artistic masterpiece left for the world to see. One way or another his art will be remembered, and it will cause the whole world to feel as much as he does.

Theo

Theo is driven by rage. Rage towards the world, towards the way he and Vincent were treated. His strength and anger would translate into him having an incredibly powerful monstrous form. His only goal is destruction. He wants to tear apart the society that allows people to get hurt like he did. He would be similar to Venom (Marvel), Abomination (Marvel), or Eren (Attack on Titan). Blinded by rage, he looses sight of his original goal and devoted himself to destroying everything he sees. It doesn’t matter who gets killed, they’re just collateral damage.

Isaac

Isaac can be two different types of villains all in one. On one hand, he’s a mad scientist who happened to discover a chemical combination that can be weaponized. However his insatiable bloodlust drives him to weaponize his discovery for himself. He wants people to know fear like he does (think Scarecrow (Batman). I can see him laying with Leonardo and helping upgrade his robot army with that chemical. On the other hand, when he lets himself give in to that bloodlust, he won’t stop unless he is stopped by someone else (like ripper Stefan from Vampire Diaries). He rips apart his victims like a wild animal. His crime scenes are covered in blood with dismembered body parts.

Mozart

Mozart would be an assassin for hire. He’s like a ghost. There have been stories about him but no one truly knows who he is. He works in the shadows and kills efficiently and without hesitation. One of his specialties is creating various sound waves that can kill his target. For those type of kills he doesn’t even need to leave his base, he can simply hack their device and cause it to play that frequency. Comte has hired him before to carry out certain kills he couldn’t do himself because of his position. Mozart is extremely devoted to his job will kill anyone who gets in the way of him and his target.

Arthur

Arthur would be a mix between Moriarty and Kilgrave (Jessica Jones). He would have some kind of mind controlling ability that allows him to create loyal puppets for his elaborate schemes. He loves playing games with the people suspecting him and he leads them in circles with their investigations. Sometimes he will even offer to personally help investigate cases he is responsible for, just to lead them into dead ends and plant fake clues. Every crime of his is a masterpiece with countless layers going into it. He does not see the people involved as humans. They’re just his pawns in his game of chess. Arthur just wants to see how far he can go before he finds a worthy opponent that can solve his cases.

Shakespeare

Shakespeare would be a theatrical serial killer who later escalates to mass murder. He would start out by abducting people he believes to “fit the role” he has planned for them. He would then kill them, replicating famous death scenes from plays and movies he admired (or his own plays). Each crime scene would be perfectly set up with lighting, makeup, and costuming. This would escalate later on to him and his troupe taking massive groups of people hostage, forcing them to read lines and act out various gruesome plays. When someone dies in the play, the actors have to murder each other. If they refuse, Shakespeare murders them both out of rage and brings in new people to replace them. He will not stop until he creates his perfect play.

[alicemitch09writes]

lame

05.

there’s a scar you’re not telling

You almost thought you were running late. Well, you weren’t.

But you were late to miss the early train.

Fuck.

And the train was packed. Just fucking great.

With your backpack hung in front of you, you tried to balance within your personal space whilst avoiding bumping into others. Thing was, it was getting more and more cramped as it was rush hour.

Why the fuck did school have to be so damn far!?

Businessmen, students, workers slowly filled in and out the train, it was wall-to-wall of people, barely allowing you a breather. Still, it was fucking cramped.

Absentmindedly, you bunched your hair together, letting it drape over your left shoulder, fingers nimbly working on a braid through your (h/c) locks.

Just as you secured it with a tie, the train cart screeched, the sudden movement throwing you off balance, falling back. Thankfully, warm hands grabbed hold of your shoulders, steadying you.

Your eyes turned to the windows, wondering if there was an attack from villains, some people were muttering behind you, thinking the same thing. Overhead, the PA went off, apologizing for the turbulence then announcing the next stop coming up.

Everyone sighed in relief, realizing it was just a train momentum, people were now shuffling around at the announcement, some preparing to leave while many others struggled to remain in their current spots.

Looking over your shoulder, towards your captor, with a smile you offer your gratitude. “Whew, thanks- “then you met ash blond and carmine, smile faltering, lower eye twitching, but a gratitude was still in order. “Yeah, thanks.”

Bakugou Katsuki's response was a noncommittal hum, roughened hands slowly slipping off your shoulders. As the train came to a stop, there was a shuffling of people, you were just about to take a step back, allowing people to move, but remembered that he was behind you. Though you were steady on your feet, it was still rush hour and people tend to really rush into the train - not wanting to miss the train. One false move and you could find yourself squished against someone, or against the window, or be cornered by some pervert – all options made you shudder.

Damn it. This is why you take the early train!

“Here,” without waiting for you to argue, roughened hands gently brought you aside, your back against the wall, shoulder touching the railing, with him in front of you. Protectively.

The feel of his hands on you made you remember just how warm they were, how big they’ve become compared to before.

“Um,” you didn’t like the way his eyes bore into yours, especially when it felt like he was seeing through you. “thanks. Again.”

Okay, not counting the time you had to confirm it earlier, that was two times already. Two words of gratitude in one morning.

He just blinked, towering over you whilst the train filled. Just the mere fact that he was in front of you made you consider a lot of things. Now that you had a good look at him, you could see that in his UA uniform, he was dressed rather ruggedly with the top buttons undone, even his blazer’s not completely buttoned, and his pants were loose – Auntie Mitsuki must’ve given him hell for his appearance. It was a total contrast to Izuku, who dressed like a good schoolboy – granted, he’s always been one. He just didn't know how to work a tie.

Regardless, he looked every bit of a high schooler now. Physically speaking, he’s always been muscular in build and tall – because of his good genes. But in a matter of time, because of his UA education, he’ll probably build up more.

But wow, it’s only been a few months since high school started, he’s definitely gotten bigger. Izuku, as well, but Bakugou’s muscles were more prominent-

Shit, were you ogling him?

Geez, it’s too early for these thoughts. Leaning against the railing, eyes squeezing shut, tucking your chin in, you groaned angrily to yourself.

Thankfully, you had your bag in front of you, creating a respectable space between you both.

Also, you could just end up not talking right? That was a thing.

You barely know the guy anymore, after years of bullying under his command, years of distance – he was nothing but a stranger to you now.

It hurt, actually.

There was a time when you were so close, never apart.

Everything just had to change because he had a quirk, birthing this damn ego that propelled him further and further away from you. Izuku, too.

And though you had your own (longer than Izuku), you felt so behind.

Him and Izuku in their UA uniforms, you in your generic public-school uniform.

The two of them were going places you could never see yourself following.

“Hey,” he called, voice surprisingly soft, cutting you off your thoughts. “that mark on your neck,” due to the environment noises surrounding, he had to lean in so you could hear him properly. “how did that happen?”

Fuck. He was too damn close!

But at the mention of the mark, hands instinctively reached for it, just by the junction of your neck and shoulder, abnormally shaped like a heart. A tiny splotch, that was over years old.

“You wouldn’t remember.” It was barely a whisper, but it reached his ears, carmine eyes faltering.

“Try me.”

Lifting your head, (e/c) eyes meeting carmine, fixing him an almost pained look. He balled his hand into fists at that, gazes holding, unwavering - a thousand words could be spoken.

The train came to a steady halt, finally reaching your stop.

Not breaking eye contact, you told him, in one breath. “It was when you discovered your quirk in kindergarten.” Then the doors opened beside you.

Hurriedly, you exited, never looking back.

Absentmindedly, your hand reached for the mark. To others, it might look cute due to its shape, but to you, it was a reminder. One of the many, anyway.

(It burned when you touched it.)

Middle school was a rough time, especially when you were the quirkless girl, an easy target, or a punching bag. Little did they know of your martial arts prowess and of your quirk, that even though you were restless in the morning, you learned to conserve just enough energy to fight, it just made you extra tired the next day though.

One day, you were cornered by a bunch of girls, all of which were fangirls of Bakugou, they saw you as a threat because of your relationship as childhood friends, forgetting that it was rather strained.

It was a four against one, which you easily won - because they chose to approach you near dusk, that was when your quirk picked up, but not without casualties.

“E-Eh, (Nickname)!? What happened to you?” Izuku frantically hovered over you when you met on the way to school.

Chuckling easily, you scratched at your bandaged cheek. “Ah, you know…assholes with quirks.”

His expression only worsened; eyes filling with tears. “(N-Nickname)…”

“IZUKU, PLEASE DON’T CRY!” you cried out, tossing your shoes into your shoe locker, lazily slipping on your indoor shoes. “Don’t worry, Izuku, I got them all.” You assure, adjusting your bag on your shoulders. “Besides, you’re forgetting that I’m a badass who knows martial arts!”

That quells him a little, worry still in his eyes. “T-That’s true. I’m just not sure how to feel that you have to resort to actually using them to defend yourself. I mean, I know you’re good at martial arts, because it’s in the family, and you’ve always been kind of strong and quick on your feet-“

“Izuku,” cutting him off, you worked on a cheeky grin. “I’m fine.”

Unconvinced, he fixes you a look, brows knitting together. “Just promise me you won’t get into fights again,”

Ah, he’s so cute when he’s being serious.

Scoffing, you swiped at your nose with your thumb. “No promises, so long as loose assholes with quirks continue to run amok and mess with me, I’ll show them exactly how I’ll mess them back and worse!”

That only made him uneasy, somehow a bit assured. “(N-Nickame)…”

When you both entered the room, your eyes easily caught on the girls from yesterday, each sporting some cuts and bruises from yesterday. The corner of your mouth lifted into a smirk, whistling breezily towards your seat.

“F-For now, (Nickname), are you feeling better? Do you want some aspirin? Do you need to head to the clinic?”

You shook your head, smiling at Izuku’s concern, he can really mother too much. “Like I said,” you said in a sing-song “I’ll be fine~ This’ll all heal soon enough, you’ll see.”

As soon as you said that, a pair of carmine eyes looked your way, focusing on each and every bandage and bruise on your skin.

Feeling someone looking your way, you turned your head. “Can I help you, Bakugou?” you drone lazily, leaning back against your seat to give him a bored look.

“A-Ah, K-Kacchan! G-Good morning- “

“Should’ve stayed at home to rest, idiot.” He tells you, eyes never leaving the bruises and bandages.

“Fuck off.” You replied, knowing the girls from yesterday were watching. Hopefully, that assured them that your relationship was pretty non-existent. Dead.

For the rest of the day, you were teetering on sleep and academic dedication with the former winning at each turn – a drawback of your quirk. Thankfully, you managed to snag some sleep during Japanese Literature and Science.

“Ah, (Nickname), you look like you’re getting better. But it would be wise not to sleep in class next time…” Izuku tells you, beratingly.

Yawning, arms stretched upwards, you fixed your best friend a dopey grin. “That’s alright, I can always depend on you for notes!”

“Really,” he sighs, announcing that you two should probably head off to lunch.

Yawning, you made your way to the meat section, mumbling over and over the things you need to buy for dinner. Lately, because your grandfather’s been working with Eraser Head, he’s been quite antsy when it comes to food, and a bit demanding, too!

Tonight, he wanted steak. FUCKING. STEAK. IT WAS EXPENSIVE FOR CRYING OUT LOUD! AND HE DIDN’T EVEN SPECIFY WHICH STEAK HE WANTED!

Grumbling under your breath, you were just about to reach for the Wagyu steak (on sale, lucky you) when another hand appeared, reaching for the same thing, making you halt.

“Ah-" looking up, you were met with familiar warm brown eyes. "Uncle Masaru!”

“Oh, (Name)-chan, it’s you!” Came his soothing calm voice, eyes brightening at the sight of you. “It’s been a while.”

“It has been, Uncle.” Your smile grew, turning to him fully before the cold wind gently whispered to your skin as if to remind you. “Ah, you can have it, by the way.”

“No, no, you were reaching for it first.”

“No, I insist!”

“Please, (Name)-chan, it’s the least I can do. Also, this at least gives me an excuse to make something else,” he replies sheepishly with a light chuckle.

You paused at that, processing the information shared. Bakugou must’ve wanted steak for dinner, but since Uncle Masaru gave up the meat, it was yours now. It was your win.

Pettily taking the win as yours, you happily took the steak and dumped it into your basket. “Thanks, Uncle Masaru!”

If he noticed the mischievous – almost devil-like expression on your face, he didn’t mention it. He just smiled, kindly, warmly, like how you remembered.

“How have you been?” he asks you.

Normally, the question would annoy you, because it was rather basic. But it’s not every day you run into sweet, mild, and good-natured Uncle Masaru.

“Eh, I’m doing very well, as you can see.”

“I’m so happy to hear that. You used to be the smallest thing, with scrapes and bruises on your pretty dresses. Whenever you and Izuku were over, it was either a riot or a party.” Okay, you had to laugh at that, but it was true. Uncle Masaru laughs with you. Having him remember those things were endearing, made you feel warm. And guilty.

“I know it might seem awkward, but Mitsuki and I would love to have you over for dinner sometime. If that’s okay with you? Of course, you can bring Izuku-kun.”

Glancing up, you met the man’s kind gaze, the one thing Bakugou never got from him – everything was from his mom, he only ever got Uncle Masaru’s spiky hair and height.

You didn’t want to say no, neither can you say yes, but you sure as heck didn’t want to disappoint Uncle Masaru.

“No promise, Uncle Masaru,” his expression fell, shoulders dropping. “but, I’ll see what I can do.”

He smiled weakly. “Then that’s more than enough for me. Just don’t be a stranger, (Name)-chan, okay?”

Smiling softly, you bowed at the older man and turned on your heel.

Cutting your losses with someone really hurts, especially when it involves certain people.

Cutting off from Bakugou meant you had cut off all contact with his parents, whom you loved so much since they took care of you for a time when your parents had passed – both taking turns to visit you when you were deep in depression. It hurt, but it was expected when you decide to cut someone from your life. Nobody is spared.

This time it was seven-against-one.

After having their asses served to them, those bitches managed to talk some filthy high schoolers into beating a middle schooler. A quirkless middle schooler.

Rolling your shoulders, you enjoyed the burn of your wakened muscles. “Wow, you bitches really want to make yourselves look bad in front of an audience, huh?”

So far, they’ve all showed to have power quirks that could be readily usable for the future, should they decide to make use of it. Sadly, their prized quirks turned out to be nothing but a waste for these fuckers.

You easily toyed with them for the first few minutes, allowing a few hits in before retaliating with a force and speed that was twice theirs. You made sure that the punches and kicks, especially to those bitches, stung and hurt, they were your own brute strength honed from training and your quirk.

A sickening crunch rang in your ear after some high school student punched you in the cheek, you made sure to return the favor by capturing his next punch, taking your legs up to strangle him by the neck, catching him completely by surprise, using your weight to swing your body towards an approaching somebody before jumping off.

Watching the two high schoolers stumble to the ground, you lazily walked up to the rest, fingers caked with dirt, grime, and blood, knuckles aching, a dark bruise forming on your arm, (h/c) hair was a mess.

Spitting blood on the ground, you wiped the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand, grinning at your next opponent, eyes glinting dangerously, menacingly, excitedly.

The rest of them faltered at your expression but didn’t back down.

That was alright, that meant they weren’t complete pussies after all.

Also, you liked fighting.

You came from a family of fighters, the thrill of it made your blood sing, made your instincts come alive – it made you feel alive.

“Hey, I’m a little disappointed,” you call out, watching the group – beaten and bruised. “you lot say you’re strong, an added bonus is your oh-so-cool quirks, so beating a measly, quirkless middle schooler like me should be no problem,” working on your most sickening grin, you tilted your head. “right?”

“Fucking bitch!”

“Now you’re really asking for it!”

“We’ll beat you black and blue!”

Falling into a stance, adrenaline rushed through your veins (and mentally preparing for a tongue lashing from your grandfather), when an explosion went off.

Clouds of smoke and sand filling the air, gushing furiously against the wind, making you squint.

“OI! IS THIS SOME DIRTY TRICK!?” you yelled, voice fading into noise of wind, sand, and explosions.

More explosions went off, going out at random – big, small, small then big. There was screaming and panicking on their end. Maybe they’ve probably found themselves in some yakuza turf and are being under attack? Shit, you had to make a run for it while you had the chance!

The sudden change of scene wasn’t good for your senses, everything was completely mushy and too much to comprehend. You at least remember where you put your bag, running towards a certain direction, you stopped at the sight of one of the fuckers. Their eyes widened at the sight of you, you readied a fist, but the gust was making your eyes water.

Falling to your knees, you covered your mouth as you coughed – having inhaled too much smoke and dust in your lungs, he saw this as an opportunity to attack you. But something grabbed him by the shoulders, some punches and groans followed, then an explosion could be heard before footsteps approached you.

Too busy coughing your lungs out, you were ready for any pain thrown at you, especially when you were at your most vulnerable.

Instead, a garb lands on your head, shielding you, arms easily scooping you off the ground, something lands on your belly, then loud hurried footfalls were taking you away from the scene.

The more you coughed, the more it felt like your lungs were going to give out, too strained to heighten your senses.

Eventually, your cough died down, your hands rubbing at your chest from coughing too much, throat dried out.

Ah, I probably will run into those assholes again, since we weren’t able to finish the fight.

You must’ve passed out – or dozed off, you weren’t sure – because the next thing you knew, you were being lowered down gently on a soft and cool sofa.

“W-Where…?”

Tugging the garb off your head, (e/c) eyes flinched at the light, strained to make out the furniture around you, the familiar TV set, the fancy-looking wall panel, the familiar staircase, that unmistakable family portrait – one brunette, two explosive blondes-

Wait, you were at Bakugou’s place?

What the heck, you haven’t set foot here in forever! Why’d he bring you here?

Fully coming to, you turned to the blond “Why’d you bring me here!?” you had to ask, demanding.

The sudden movement stung at your fresh injuries, making you coil in your seat.

“Where else was I going to take you?” he replied immediately, coolly, loud enough for you to hear as he was taking two bottles of water from the refrigerator. “My place was closest, yours takes a while to get there, plus, you wouldn’t want to worry your family, right?”

You stared at him, distrustfully, then at the water offered to you, shocked to find that he remembered how much your family would worry over your injuries – big or small. He was always the one carrying you home, almost witnessing first-hand how much your mother would be near tears, your grandfather giving you a murderous-worried look, and your father just ash-faced and pale.

Taking the water from his hand, you nodded your thanks, pressing the cool item against your jaw, hissing in pain from the punch thrown earlier.

Carmine eyes narrowed at that, an emotion crossing over them.

“Don’t move,” he orders, walking off somewhere, you don’t care, eyes wandering around the area. It’s been a while since you were here, the last time was when it was his 10th birthday. After that, though, you and Izuku stopped receiving invitations.

Twisting the cap open, you took gentle sips, relishing in the cool water running down your throat.

The Bakugous were loaded – because Uncle Masaru worked in the fashion industry and Auntie Mitsuki worked in a cosmetics company. The two adored you, treating you like a daughter they never had – Uncle Masaru would gift you cute dresses (which Bakugou would make fun of you whenever you wore them) whenever he can, and Auntie Mitsuki was a hard-ass woman you looked up to.

But since discovering his quirk, Bakugou had become unbearable to be with, a shitty friend to both you and Izuku, ties had to be severed. However, that also meant not being able to see Uncle Masaru and Auntie Mitsuki, who were surely saddened by you and Izuku’s absence.

Suddenly, Bakugou was in front of you, his gakuran unbuttoned, exposing his shirt underneath, a first aid kit in hand. Eyes meeting, a silent conversation was being held, carmine clashing against (e/c). Fixing him a dull stare, he clicked the first aid kid open. With a roll of your eyes, you allowed him to clean your wounds.

Silence filled in, nothing you both seemed to mind. Surprisingly, for a guy with an explosive, volatile quirk and a shitty attitude, he was rather gentle. Not like you’ll ever tell him that, eyes looking around the house, remembering the times you were over with Izuku, anything to avoid staring at him in awe.

“Do they always come for you…” having finished cleaning most of your wounds, his voice came out quiet, but you heard it, a statement rather than a question.

Blinking, you were unsure if he deserved an answer. He thought that was the case and asked again, dipping iodine into the cotton, “Do they always-“

“I don’t see how this is any of your concern.”

Noticeably, his fingers stilled. Then, something smoked, it was the cotton ball, now reduced to ashes. A beat passed before he found himself working again, getting another cotton, now applying ointment to your bruises.

“Do you always need to fight them back?” There was a slight edge to his voice, controlled yet on the verge of breaking.

(E/c) hardened down on him, a seesaw of options playing in your head.

“Have to.” You reply breezily, watching him snap his head up to meet your gaze, unfazed by the anger in his carmine eyes. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“No shit.” He growled, hands beginning to shake. “What I do understand is the disciplinary action you’re gonna get once people find out you’ve been fighting fellow students, even if it were an act of self-defense! Y-You,” he slammed his fist into the glass table beside him, cracking it a little, his head hanging. “you could’ve just called the teachers, told them, too. About those bitches…”

“Again, I don’t see how this is- “

“YOU’LL BE FUCKING EXPELLED, (NAME)!” head still hung low, you could feel his hot breath and tufts of his hair against your skin, making you tingle a bit. It scared you to be this close to him, after all this time. Scared of how he was still protective of you.

Hating how you could hear the guilt in his voice because, in a way, he caused this, he allowed this, he was the reason. He was scared for you.

And he called you by your name.

The seesaw in your head continued, teetering, options weighing one after another.

“…why do you care?” One option up, the other falls. In the end, you just destroyed the seesaw. “Why waste your breath and time on an extra like me, quirkless too, if I might add, why waste your time?”

His head snapped up to yours, his expression was a shock to you. Why…why did he look so devastated, so crushed, so- “(Name)…”

Unable to stay any longer, never mind your still healing body, you stood. “I’m going now. Thanks for treating my injuries. I’ll..." you gulp, hard. "I'll try to avoid getting into fights.” Without waiting for a reply, you grabbed your bag, heading towards the door. “Bye.”

The next day, extremely exhausted from the fighting, Izuku once again panicked at the sight of your bruised and beaten face. When you reached the classroom, you were more than ready to meet the gazes of those bitches – only to find out they had been suspended, as they were given serious warnings should they cause another fight with you.

Apparently, someone had reported their involvement in ganging up on a quirkless student. Plus, there was a video of them taunting you since first year.

Bakugou was in his seat, looking anywhere but your way. Returning the gesture, you quietly sat in your seat, listening to whatever Izuku had to say.

Since then, you swore never to get into fights anymore for the sake of Izuku, and because Bakugou practically begged you.

“How’s school?” your grandfather asked, helping himself to some bok choy.

Shrugging easily, you cut a piece of steak, gesturing for his bowl to serve it to him. “Could be worse, but I’m doing fine.”

“Clarify, silly girl.”

“Mathematics continues to chew me in the ass,” you tell him, avoiding the hit thrown your way.

(Name) – 1, Shihan – 0.

“You’re failing already!?”

“Translation: it’s difficult, not I’m failing. Geez, old man, context!”

You barely dodged the chop aimed for your head, making you wince from the pressure.

(Name) – 1, Shihan – 1.

“That’s no way to talk to your elders, silly girl!” handing you an empty bowl, you nearly pawed it off his hands.

Angrily, you scooped him his heaping, a mound of hot rice returned to him. “Where do you think I take it from!?”

(Name) – 2, Shihan – 1.

“Enough arguing, more eating, foolish girl! We have training to do!”

(Name) – 2, Shihan – 2.

Narrowing your eyes at your grandfather, you wished lasers would come out just to fry off the last of his remaining hair out of petty spite.

Regardless, you loved your grandfather and appreciated these banters. He was rough on you, only because he wanted to teach you to be strong and to be able to hold off whatever was thrown your way so you can repay them back twice, thrice, or ten times more.

You were his pride and joy the moment you were born and swore to your parents that he’d guide and protect you so long as he was still kicking.

“I ran into Uncle Masaru today.”

“Oh! How is the man?”

“Same as always. Not a single grey hair in sight, despite living in a household full of rabid Pomeranians and hitting his forties.”

The Yoruichi patriarch stared down at you, unamused. “Please don’t tell me you told him that.”

Snickering, you deftly avoided his chops.

(Name) – 3, Shihan – 2.

“Gramps, please, like I’d be so willing to break Uncle Masaru’s heart.”

“You don’t have a problem doing that to me.”

“Simple: you’re literally and figuratively old,” you pointed with your chopsticks, waving them in the air as you enumerated more. “you’re Shihan of our dojo, and you have to raise me!”

(Name) – 4, Shihan – 3.

You failed to block the flick on your forehead after finishing your piece.

“Don’t wave your chopsticks in the air, fool, it’s rude.” Snickering at your whining, knowing it’ll leave a mark, he ate more steak. “And easy there with your words, silly girl, otherwise, I’ll repay your kindness in training!”

Recovering, you smirk, helping yourself to some steak. “Bring it! You know I love a good challenge!”

“Oho? My, someone’s cocky.”

“I wouldn’t be your granddaughter, either way.”

You two laughed at that, dinner coming to a finish as your grandfather happily ate the last of the steak. Eyeing the leftovers, you delighted at the thought of tomorrow’s lunch.

Just as you were to clean up, your grandfather asked a question: “By the way, how is the young Bakugou boy?”

(Name) – 4, Shihan – 4.

You stopped at that, hands freezing in the air, feeling your grandfather’s stare on you.

“Dunno.” Came your reply, hands found themselves resuming their work. “Don’t care.”

He watched in silence as you arranged the empty plates, bowls, and chopsticks. “Still not in speaking terms, eh?”

“Yep.”

Your grandfather didn’t have to ask to know that something changed between the three of you, especially with you and Bakugou. What you two had was not something so easy to forget, especially when both of you had been so close. Since then, his name had been taboo in the house.

“He goes to UA with Izuku, right?”

At the mention, you feel the tension seeping away slightly, mouth fixed in a straight line. “Yeah…”

“Are they in speaking terms?”

That made you scoff, fixing your grandfather a dubious look. “Civil, to say the least. Izuku’s not a brute, not like that other one.”

The animosity was clear in your tone as you talked about the other boy, like a bitter pill. Strong arms, decorated in scars and tattoos, crossed against his chest, displeased yellow eyes fixed on you.

“Has he tried talking to you?”

Shrugging with one shoulder, you turned to a lone rice on the table, flicking it without care. “He has, but they’re pretty half-assed.”

“What makes you say that?” to which, he received another shrug from you, mouth twisted into a twisted pout.

Consciously, you reached for your mark, rubbing at it with your fingers. “Some things are better left unsaid, the same way that some things buried should never be unearthed. It’s better off that way.”

His eyes never left your form, taking in your slouch, the look on your face, the sadness in your eyes. “Are you talking about yourself? Because that’s a rather selfish line of thinking, don’t you think?” Shifting, he slowly stood from the table, you watched him stand and met his gaze, offering you a sad look. “In a way, aren’t you being half-assed, yourself?”

Winner: Shihan, Loser: (Name).

masterlist • six

[nebraska-is-a-myth]

Dream Team - crime AU

Bare with me okay:

I also have an idea to continue this if you want more

Imagine somewhere in the world, a city, so full of corruption and violence and death, riddled with dirt and grime and poverty. A city that's run by no one, full of chaos and crime. Where the rich con the poor into believing they are good people who want them to thrive and work amongst them, when in reality the poor stay poor and the rich stay rich. 

The local police force are drowning trying to keep the criminals at bay, robberies and murders left and right, more and more young naïve police officers die on duty every year thinking they can be the one to save the city from the shambles it has become.

Then a new type of chaos comes to town

At first the police think it's the return of the long dormant gang member techno

But then they spot a large spray painted smiley face on the wall in the warehouse of one of the largest drug trafficking rings in the city, every single worker slaughtered

The police think it's a one off when no trace of a new smiley face or even any indication that this mystery murderer exists until a new one is drawn on every single crime scene the police investigate for the next two weeks

Some thought he was a vigilante, a hero in disguise who came to the city to save them, to do what the police never could

That was, until a mysterious man walks into the local police station with a loaded gun ,wearing a white mask that is strangely similar to the ones that have been cropping up all over the city

Some officers actually lower their weapons with the belief that he’s here to turn in another wanted criminal

Oh how wrong they were

He fires without mercy and efficiently, every single shot hits its target

He waits, only for a moment, he stands in the middle of the room, corpses around him and footsteps approaching

He swiftly draws his pistol, taking out 3 of the 4 cameras in the room, and he turns to face the last, a smile drawn on his face

“We haven't formally met. My names Dream”

He talks to the camera like he's performing for it, for the viewers that aren't even watching. He talks with passion and emotion, like he's doing this whole thing to entertain. He continues without pausing, almost as if this whole thing was scripted to give the perfect performance.

 “Although, most of you were delusional enough to call me a vigilante. Look, I get it, no hard feelings. But you have to understand, I can't just let this slide. I've got a reputation to uphold here, and I'm clearly not getting the recognition that I deserve!”

He seems like he's filled with genuine anger, he waves his loaded pistol around as he talks with his hands. Good thing everyone else was already dead, he could accidentally shoot someone with the way he aimed it around like it wasn't even there.

“You think these pigs could have taken down those vermin, I accomplished in a week what they haven't been able to do in almost a decade! I should be feared! Not praised for murder! But no, instead I get compared to these disgusting things! And I'm afraid I just can't stay silent anymore. So today I've prepared a little something for you all to enjoy, all with a little help from my pals.”

He knows that nobody's watching, not yet. It would have been easy enough to broadcast the event live, but there were too many risks that higher forms of law enforcement would get involved too quickly. Not that he wouldn't be able to get away from all the hassle, but being interrupted wasn't something the man was fond of. Despite the lack of a current audience, he knew he had to put on the theatrics, he needed a little something to liven up the 10 o'clock news.

He steps back from the overhead camera, and allows another masked man come into frame.

He's dressed in all black, a panda face mask covering the bottom half of his face, revealing his wide eyes, contrasting the covering of dreams mask. And an orange bandana around his hairline, keeping his brown locks out of his line of sight. He also wore a large gun strapped to his back and knife holsters scattered across his frame.

Dream introduces him to the camera as Sapnap, the man who has been killing corrupt businessmen all over the city, leaving a little card with a pandas face at the scene of every crime. He knows everyone knows who he is. He's the reason the rich are so afraid of one another.

Sapnap eyes the camera, twiddling a knife between his fingers. He doesn't say anything, his menacing glare says enough.

Dream laughs to the camera like it's a comedy show, before another man steps into frame, he's not as light footed as sapnap was, not quite as intimidating either. He's dressed in bright colours that don't quite seem to match. He waves at the camera with a big toothy grin and you can see the tiny ceiling camera in the reflection of what appears to be coloured sunglasses. You could most definitely identify him, even with the terrible quality of the camera his features would still stand out enough for officials to figure out who this guy was. But then again, it didn't really seem like these guys were going for stealth.

Dream then takes note of the device the other man was holding and holds it up for the camera to see like he was doing them a favor by letting them get a closer look.

“My good friend George here has made a little device that allows us to control which cameras are on, and which, are completely useless. It's like having our own personal studio isn't that right guys.”

Sapnap doesn't react, just stands there and continues playing with the knife in his hands. But you can see his face creased in ways that look like a smile beneath the mask. Maybe the cold faced killer act is really just that, an act.

George however smiles like dream had just given him a million dollars. He looks manic in the way it reaches his eyes with such pure joy. And he wines with a laugh trying to get the device out of the masked man's hand, telling him to be careful. Dream too smiles and carefully hands back the device to George as if this wasn't a crime scene at all.

Dream suddenly takes note of the furious banging at the metal doors just out of view of the camera and his eyes wander to them for just a moment, almost as if the noise had startled him, even though it had been there all along.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” He reaches behind his back and lifts the larger gun from his shoulders, aiming it at the door on the left, while sapnap finally holsters the knife and aims his loaded gun at the right. Dream then looks back at the camera, a smile still ever present on his masked face. “It can also lock doors. I mean come on guys, it's what you get for building everything on something that can be hacked. Who really needs electric doors anyway, not these guys that's for sure. They're about to be dead in just a second. Come on let's count it down shall we. You ready George.”

George bounces excitedly as dream moves to stand in front of him, gun still aimed at the barricaded officers, he clutches the device in his hands and beams with an ecstatic tone “Ready dream!”

“Sapnap, you ready.” 

Sapnap makes a sharp exhale of breath come out his nose, almost as if he was laughing at the statement. Dream takes the small snicker as an affirmative to continue and the masked man starts counting

Five untold secrets

Four already dead

Three fearless killers

Two rival gangs

One dream team

Part 2 , Masterlist