#fucking nobody calls her 'Peregrine-3'

[omgkalyppso]

things I would like to know about fellow writers

I was tagged by @dustdeepsea, thank you!! (:

Putting a cut in this because I'm very specific in some sexual language (not about my sexual history).

For this reason I'm too shy to tag anyone else, but if you see this and want to answer the questions, please consider yourself tagged by me.

Last book I read: The last book I finished must've been American Gods.

Greatest literary inspiration: I don't know. I like reading for reading and for learning, but no one that I really want to write like, and I feel bad for naming big names, still. JRR Tolkien, Douglas Adams, Diane Duane, Isaac Asimov (the short story Liar! has really stuck with me). And even then, that might influence how I used to write original fiction, but not at all how I write fanfiction, which I do almost exclusively now. I write far more original poetry than original fiction, and then ... I'm inspired by my mother, people in my community, all the music I listen to.

My fanfiction is a little inspired by my friends. I was going to link their a/o3 accounts but realized they may not want that. fghdfghdfg

Things in my current fandom I want to read but I don't want to write: Let's think of 3 for bg3 and 3 for fire emblem.

Vlaakith's defeat. - Idk enough about githyanki politics / how many "elite" forces (if any) are at her disposal.

Minsc's homecoming. - I feel like I'd have to play the first two games to be up to this.

He Who Was in control of his faculties but subbing very sweetly for Tav/Durge of any gender with bondage, hair pulling, overstimulation, spanking and the presence of a knife (I'd say knifeplay, but I don't mean bloodplay / cutting for him). - Reminder that this isn't a w/endy's, it's my blog.

Slowburn, longfic of Marianne moving to Faerghus with her eventual marriage to Dimitri. - Time.

Shura holding Kana for the first time. - I could write this. I won't.

Kink scene, free-use Hilda where her inner monologue is as complex as she is while still being wildly indulgent. - I started this wip; Hubert was also up for grabs in it. But it isn't happening.

Wait, also, Sylvain x Mercedes x Dedue starting a relationship with miscommunication and pining. - Planning this feels hard. fghdfg

Things in my current fandoms I want to write but I think nobody would be interested in them but me: 

With the note that I know I have at least 5 enablers who will (probably?? fdghfgdhfdg) always express interest in my completion of a project even if the won't read it, and so "nobody" being interested applies to strangers:

Komira and Locke, either domesticity or sexual intimacy.

A fic where Wyll and Ulder talk and it results in reconciliation, and then a bigger rift, and then understanding (people really don't like Ulder).

My Blaiddyd Bastard oc Almanzor learning to let go of the hang-ups on sex his parents gave him and fucking my oc Peregrine.

My oc Fae as a Student AU longfic.

You can recognise my writing by: The temptation to insult my own writing is so, so strong, but I don't mean to insult anyone who reads my stuff and enjoys it so I have to be nice. Hm. I don't know. "The way I write dialogue / inner reflection" is vague, but it's all I've got.

My most controversial take (current fandom): You guys (gender neutral and vague) can't call that shit self-insert if it's a non-human Tav (or Durge). It's first or second person writing (often, and not even always lately???), and x Reader fic, but self-insert To Me means that either any reader or at least the author has to be able to picture themself Being Inserted into the story. I haven't seen 1 isekai situation using this tag, which isn't a requirement, but you're giving the self-insert tiefling-tails and backstories, which is fun, but that's not a self-insert to me.

Top three favourite tropes: Slowburn (or emotional slowburn, sexually complicated), Hurt/Comfort (emotional or physical, whatever), Battle Relationship.

What’s your current writing mood (10 – super motivated and churning out words like crazy, 0 – in a complete rut): How current is current? Because potentially 0/10. I'll say 4/10 though.

Share a random frustration: I hate psyching myself out of a project because I worry something won't make sense (and I should post it anyway) or that it won't be up to my personal standards for myself.

[missnight0wl]

You know, with all that stupidity about wandless magic, you would think MC use it to knock the brain potion off the piano and break it but Jam City writers have -2 brain cells.

I KNOW, RIGHT??

Seriously, like… just look at this scene:

It literally begs to be like: “Oh, weeks, you say? Well, it’d be a shame if it got broken then… OOPS! I DIDN’T MEAN TO DO IT!  I’M SO CLUMSY!”. Because the thing is that they don’t even need wandless magic here – they need to make two steps and push it. And you know what makes it even worse? That MC is not even restrained in any way. I mean, I guess Merula is kinda pointing her wand at us and she’s supposed to keep an eye on things, but let’s be real – if MC acted quickly, nobody would have time to do anything. Like, the bottle is… RIGHT. THERE.

When I was reading this chapter in the datamines, I was certain that there will be more people in this scene. Y’know, random R members, simply for the background. And that maybe some of them would actually physically hold MC, so it could explain why they did absolutely nothing. But no! There’s just Merula looking very uncertain and MC being a fucking idiot.

Also, I do have a problem with MC actually using wandless magic later on the Crown:

… because:

1) Why MC used fucking Flipendo? Why not Accio? I mean, sure, they wanted to use a distraction, whatever. But the whole previous scene was about grabbing the Crown because R can’t do shit without it, so… what gives? And don’t even tell me MC doesn’t know Accio. They’re a student in their seventh year, about to graduate. They have to know such a basic spell, even if it technically wasn’t introduced in the game.

2) WHY MC did it at all, instead of using their wand? I mean, did they assume it’d be just faster or Perry actually took their wand? And if it’s the second option, why we weren’t informed about it? I get that JC might’ve been too lazy to animate it, but they could’ve at least made Peregrine say: “I’ll be taking your wand now” or something.

 3) Are we supposed to believe that R didn’t know MC knows wandless magic? Because it kind of looked that way. But how it’s possible if it was Merula who taught it us? Wasn’t she afraid that it’d break her Unbreakable Vow? Or Verucca told her to train MC in wandless magic? If so, WHY??

HM, IT ALMOST FEELS LIKE JC DIDN’T PLAN ANY OF THAT IN ADVANCE…

No, but seriously. What was the point of introducing wandless magic to the story? I always thought that somebody told Merula to do it, and now I assume that it was Verucca, but… why? Merula also acted in the past as if she was expecting that it might help MC in the future, but… HOW?? And now that it kind of helped MC, we don’t even mention Merula’s role in all of that??

The only situation so far when the introduction of wandless magic had some sense was the chapter when we met Rakepick in Azkaban. The problem is that that chapter shouldn’t exist, to begin with. First of all, there’s no fucking way insane!Rakepick would conjure a Patronus when she’s literally stuck in her worst memories. Therefore, realistically speaking, in the insane route, there’s NO REASON for MC to lose their wand. And secondly, we’re ignoring everything we learnt from Rakepick then anyway! Why we didn’t tell Peregrine she called him a tyrant? Or that insane!Rakepick is absolutely terrified of him? How it goes along with his claims that “we’re the good guys”?

sigh

For fuck’s sake.

[savathuns-pyramidscheme]

Peregrine-3 names and nicknames as spoken by others:

Ghost(Nolanbot): Guardian, Peregrine, Partner

Cayde-6: Guardian, Perry, P, Wolfie, Lady Guardian, 'My greatest success story', Buddy, Pal

Crow: Guardian, Peregrine, Old Light, Perry (very rarely)

Glint: Guardian, Miss Peregrine, Miss Perry

Shiro-4, Efrideet: Guardian, Young Wolf, Lady Peregrine, Lady P

Saladin, Tyra: Guardian, Young Wolf, Lady Peregrine

Ikora, Zavala, Ana, Elsie, Shaxx, Banshee, Hawthorne, Sloane, Devrim, Amanda: Guardian, Peregrine, Perry

Saint-14: Guardian, Peregrine, Perry, My friend, My inspiration

Osiris: Guardian, Peregrine, Young Wolf

Sagira: Guardian, Perry, Buddy, Pal, Wolfie, 'My other Guardian', 'Our mutual friend' (to Osiris)

Eris: Guardian, Peregrine, My friend, Crota's Bane, Slayer of Oryx

Petra, Variks, Misraaks: Guardian, Peregrine, My friend

Asher: Guardian, Assistant (he doesn't remember her name)

Drifter: Sister, Hotshot, Buddy, Pal, Perry (when talking about her, never to her)

Toland: Squanderer(derogatory), Squanderer (affectionate), Slayer of Oryx

Mara: Guardian, It

[aizawaskittenwhore]

  𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐮𝐭

words:3.7k

pairing: aizawa x fem!reader

warnings: tw mention of blood, tw mentions of death, mentions of drugs in case you forgot this is a cartel au, murder, swearing, keigo being a cocky lil fucker, sexual harassment towards the end cause yakuza men suck

rating: 18+ cause shit gets real this chapter

a/n: i FINALLY FINISHED IT FUCK YES chapter two mothafuckas!!! i’ve been having so much fun brainstorming everything to come, and here you’re gonna really get a feel for how big this cartel is. player two, f/n l/n, you’re up! <3

all rights reserved ©️aizawaskittenwhore. do not copy, repost, or modify.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨: 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝’𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 ↳ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞

September 13th, 2181

2:56pm

Musutafu, Japan

“Hold the fuck up. This doesn’t make any sense, I mean—these are Pros. Well known and well respected Pros, at that. The hell would they be tryna’ run a fucking cartel for?!?” Ken Takagi (more commonly known as Rock Lock) rubbed the bridge of his nose in confusion, not understanding the motive or correlation. “I mean think about it. These motherfuckers got more money than they know what to do with. Endeavor is a shareholder in goddamn Nintendo, Hawks owns his own fucking agency and line of sports cars, and I could’ve sworn I saw Eraser getting Shinsou fitted for a fucking Cuban on his birthday a few months ago. It’s not like they’re strapped for cash these days.” Ken huffed, the agent’s arms crossed as he leaned back in the conference chair.

In an attempt to try and broaden the range on your current investigation, your department recruited the help of several Pros to provide reinforcements in Japan, the States, and wherever else sales were being made. Going undercover was already plenty dangerous, and going alone was the equivalent of signing your own death warrant. Enlisting the help of Rock Lock, Ryukyu, Miruko, Fatgum, Edgeshot and plenty of others was relatively easy; these were Heroes that had experience with smugglers and narcotics-based operations, so when you’d approached them with the task at hand, they’d happily agreed.

However, some needed more convincing than others.

“Takagi. Think about it. Sure, they may not be living paycheck to paycheck, but look at the timeline.” You state, looking over your shoulder towards the holographic board displaying an interactive timeline of the investigation, including photos, invoices and even audio recordings pulled from surveillance cameras. “Two years ago, we seized a truck containing approximately 78 kilograms of crack cocaine. When we questioned the driver on where he was taking it and where he got it from, he didn’t budge. Luckily for us, the dumbass wasn’t smart enough to avoid a paper trail, leaving the insurance documents in the glove compartment when we’d taken him into custody. The insurance company was under the name “Target Lance”, but after doing some digging on the name we found out the corporation went bankrupt six months before and was eventually bought out by Chevrolet.” Pausing to return to the screen welded to the wall behind you, your hands swiped as you searched for the file reading December 5th, 2178: A live video feed of a towering skyscraper being built, the building’s name reading “Chevrolet Corvette Inc.” as it hovered above tens of stories above each worker.

“But you all haven’t heard the name Chevy in a while right? That’s because two weeks after that building was built, the hundred-million dollar company was bought out by Takami Corporate-”

“-who owns Takami Motors. Which is the brand associated with the Peregrine Speedsters, Hawks’ damned sports car line.” Ken finished for you, brown spheres twinkling in sudden clarity. “Now you’re speaking my language.” You nod, hands waving as you continue to brief the room of Pros.

“The Todoroki and Nintendo console collaboration didn’t happen until about earlier this year, March to be specific. Which is quite convenient..since around that time the price of cocaine per gram stabilized in both America and Japan, rising from $112 to $138 bucks a pop. I’m nobody to speak on looks either, but for as long as we’ve known of him, Eraser has dressed like a depressed college student with insomnia that doesn’t understand the concept of soap or a pair of clippers. Now he’s got his wife in Cartier bracelets and getting his shirts tailored because the collar “doesn’t allow him enough room for his capture weapon”?!? Bullshit.” You huff, stifling a smile as you watch Miruko and Edgeshot snicker in their seats at your...blunt observation.

“It makes sense. Three years ago all our agencies, including those overseas, started cutting our checks down by half. They can barely afford to pay us a quarter of what we used to make, and these guys are making these lavish purchases while we all starve?? No way. Something’s fishy, and it’s damn sure not this takoyaki.” Fatgum spat, hands quivering with rage as he struggled to grasp the food with his chopsticks.

“Fatgum’s right. Hero unemployment is at a staggering 8.7 percent. Meanwhile, these men are spending money like it’s going out of style. It makes no sense.” Miruko pondered, Ryukyu folding her hands in her lap as she voiced her approval for immediate action. Edgeshot nodded in agreement, brows furrowed in frustration at this blatant disregard for the law. “So we’re all in agreement that our own people have resorted to breaking the law. Cool, got it. Question is, why? And what the hell are we gonna do about it?” Ken demanded, his patience having worn thin from all this speculation.

“Good question. I think they’re trying to take advantage of the tough spot the Hero Commission is in right now, manipulate that vulnerability and use it for their own gain. They’re not invulnerable to the tough times Pros are facing in the workforce. So they’ve gotten together to try and make it work for them, even if it means breaking the law.” You query, hands typing furiously at the virtual screen to pull up the files of each Hero, displaying all the current information on them from their blood type to each known family member. “These three banding together though? Along with other people? There’s no way. They hate each other. Or at the very least couldn’t get anything done even if they did have a common goal in mind.” Edgeshot murmured lowly.

“I thought so too. But then it hit me: it’s not just some flimsy group project. Sure, crime has gone up since the formation of this cartel, but nobody who holds any rank has been murdered or harmed in any way. No no no, these guys are singing in tune for now...which means there’s a damn good choir director among them. So I’ve volunteered to go undercover, work my way through this organization and figure out just how high up this goes.” You assert, shoulders rigid and chin aloft as the harnesses of your costume frame your figure.

“Alone?? Are you outta your goddamn mind? Let me go, you’ll need back up-” Rock Lock sputters, hands fanning out in shock.

“No way. What about your wife, your kid?! This isn’t just some average drug bust, we’re dealing with powerful men in possession of superhuman abilities that have the game on lockdown. You’ve got too much to lose, more than any of us anyway. Edgeshot and I will go, we’ve seen the other side of the law before, and our quirks are better suited for stealth should anything go wrong.” You fire, eyes narrowing into slits. “The rest of you will be working in tandem with the DEA and our resources, and we’ll report back to you with all future developments. We’ll also need you to be ready to fight at a moment’s notice, if we need it.”

A thick silence clogged the air, Ken settling back into his seat across the table. His amber eyes flickered in irritation before huffing in acceptance, the situation being out of his hands. All the conference participants’ gazes fixed in determination, some with anger. The tense aura weighed on everyone present before Miruko cleared her throat, ivory teeth gleaming in a smirk.

“Well we’ve got a solid plan. So all I wanna know is...when do we start?

June 2nd, 2182

In all honesty...you thought the nickname was just a sad attempt to stroke his ego. But seeing the way over seventy commercial-size planes and approximately 30 seaplanes sat aloft balmy concrete in the Guadalajara sun showed you exactly why they called Hawks “Lord of The Skies”. Arrays of laborers with avian-oriented quirks loaded kilo after kilo of coke on to each and every plane, some by hand and others by forklift. Welders were personally hand selected by Keigo himself to eliminate the issue of utilizing every available inch of space; each vessel having been stripped of everything from the seats to the built in mini-bars (much to Keigo’s chagrin). From where you stood in the scalding hot beams, the runway seemed to extend for miles as it brimmed with visible heat-waves.

Dressed in a simple black tank top, black biker type shorts, aluminum plated gauntlets, steel toed combat boots and harnesses that encapsulated the curves of your body before coming to a stop at your thighs, you silently rejoiced in the airflow your gear allowed you in spite of the color. The bandanna atop your hairline helped to absorb some of the sweat, which was a bonus.

“Not bad for a starter fleet huh? The wingspan on these babies almost makes me jealous.” A rich and decadent voice called from your left. Sleek carmine appendages and brassy blond hair entered your peripheral vision, giving way to the man who ran the show: Keigo Takami. Adorned in a pair of low rise denim jeans that were so incomprehensibly tight they accentuated every bit of his dick (which was likely intentional), a plain white tee and ebony cowboy boots that looked like they cost three times what you make in a week; he most definitely looked the part of the People Magazine’s “Sexiest Man Alive” and Playboy’s “Player of the Month” titles he’d earned. Luminous olive skin glistened with sweat, droplets sliding down the deep v neck of his shirt with ease; the way the daisy-hued fabric stuck to his crafted abdomen leaving nothing to the imagination. Tourmaline and Argentium piercings dangled effortlessly from both ears, and if you weren’t so hell-bent on putting the motherfucker in jail you would’ve had no problem admitting how attractive he really was.

“Starter fleet? You’re about to put Delta out of business, look at this shit!” You guffaw, arms folded, an eyebrow raised in astonishment at his “humble” admission. “Flattery will get you everywhere, and then some.” Keigo chuckles, breath hot against your ear the instant he bends at the waist, hands settled in his pockets with that cocky aura about him.

“-And having your damn breath against my ear in 107 degree weather will, respectfully, get you my foot up your ass. I didn’t fly down here to get treated like one of your poor interns. I came here to make money, so let’s talk it.” You lash, the climbing tempature slicing your tolerance for bullshit to shreds.

“Shit. Straight to the point huh? I like it. You wanna talk shop, say no more. Over lunch though, I’m starving out here.” Keigo clicks his teeth with a grin, escorting the two of you towards the very jet he’d arrived in. “A little unknown fact about me, usually I hate flying ”conventionally”. Gives me anxiety, and I’m awful company when I’m nervous.”

Settling into the light taupe hued cabin, you observe the not-so-subtle elements of class. Ivory shochu bottles with intricate crystalline glasses to match, the bar fully stocked with gold accents along the upholstery. Plates of costly Kobe style beef rested atop spotless porcelain, romaine lettuce coupled with grilled applewood bacon, chicken, avocado and buttermilk dressing settled into envy-inducing black marble bowls. The plane was spacious, and certainly cost a pretty penny or two. “You’re upfront, so I’ll be honest with you. As of right now, this plane is the last thing I’m worried about-” Hawks mutters lowly, dijon eyelets tapering into thin slivers.

“-It’s the Shie Hassaikai making their encore appearance, and with the Colombians at that.”

You choke on a sip of Vega Sicilia, pupils dilating at the thought. 

“Now you spoke about wanting to make some money, right?” You nod, heart rate steadily rising. 

“What if I could offer you something more? Something of...extensive value.” Keigo drawled, dark undertone flooding the air like a thick smoke.  “Like what, Takami?” You inquire.

“A seat at the table.” He shrugs, like one would if they were discussing something as trivial as ice cream flavors or Friday night plans, not the reorganization of a crime syndicate. “You’ve been workin’ for me shy of a year now right? Somethin’ like that? Anyway..”

He takes a deep, contemplative swig of the chestnut liquid, eyes boring into yours. 

“You’re efficient, and you don’t take anyone’s shit. Good help’s hard to find in our line of work, and before you know it, this little hierarchy is gonna go under some..reorganization. Only the people who aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty will have a place in the new order, so I want you there.”

“What’s the catch? I’m not dumb enough to just assume this is some promotion for busting my ass.” You tread, brain working double-time to try and decipher just what Keigo’s getting at. “Clever girl. It’s a simple task, in and out.” He assures, middle and ring finger sliding a matte-finish photo across the mahogany. Displayed was Kinan Zango, a member of the Shie Hassaikai’s middle rankings shaking hands with Joaquin Fuentes, a Columbia native known for having a body count in the double digits. 

“Another fact about me: Only one thing heightens my anxiety more than planes...people who fuck with my money. This asshole Kinan’s been selling my routes to the fucking Columbians and pocketing the profits, and getting 20% of the product as a little “thank you” when he knows nobody moves coke through the Gulf other than Takami fucking Keigo. He’s becoming a problem, and I don't like those.” Kei growls, left eye twitching minutely. His nails are sinking into the polish of the wood, his energy vehemently furious.

“Take care of this for me, and you’ll be my plus one to Guadalajara tomorrow.”

The general public often made the mistake of writing Keigo off as just your average “pretty boy”. Whereas a trained eye could see that while he may be pretty, he was nobody to be tested. The sheer intellect he possesses to seek, hand-craft each and every route, assign planes to their designated locations along with alternatives should there ever be an issue? He just didn’t get enough credit. 

So he took major offense when someone had the audacity to treat his hard work as though it was theirs.

Besides.. you got a man with looks, money and bloodlust? Tch. You’ve just created a monster.

You weren’t necessarily opposed to the idea of ridding the world of another drug-dealing degenerate, but the idea of casually committing a murder as a DEA agent in a foreign country just didn't sit right with you. Undercover agents weren’t permitted a “license to kill” should the investigation call for it either, so it was between committing a murder as government agent, or declining Keigo’s request and missing out on a front row seat to the cartel’s entire operation.

The silence that followed his sentence was deafening. Ice cubes chimed loftily as they swirled around inside his glass, clear liquid sloshing around while he awaited an answer.

Your jaw sets, eyes piercing into his. 

“Consider it done.”

Blood spattered onto the pale concrete, moonlight illuminating the scarlet hues. Your knuckles throbbed with pain, the sensation blossoming through your hand as your lips curled back in a snarl, vigorously ridding your hands of the other man’s bodily fluids. 

“ If you really think coming after me for that bird brained motherfucker is gonna change anything, you got another thing fucking coming.” Kinan spat, nose steadily flowing with red. His lip was busted, face splotched with yellowing purple bruises. Tugging at his restraints he thrashed, mouth spewing white-hot venom.

“You’re talking a lot of shit for a middle-ranking yakuza who thinks some new coke routes is gonna keep the Hassaikai from dumping your body on the side of some road in Zacatecas.” You observe, sending a harsh kick between the mans ribs, steel toed boots making an audible crack. “The Japanese are like Dixie Cups to them...”‘use em’ once, then throw em’ away”, right? You’re a fool if you think your days aren't numbered once you wear out your welcome.”

“Fuck you. You’re little boy toy threw a temper tantrum, so he sent you to “take care of things”, isn’t that right?” Kinan coos, eyes softening in a mocking pout. 

“Trust me, you're not the first slut Takami’s been sticking it in that he’s sent to kill me. Only difference between you and the rest of those bitches-” He huffs, head craning back against the metal chair to let our a soft breath of laughter. “-is that you’re gonna put up a fight.”

Suddenly his bones began to shift, popping and snapping as his skin began to pool below him; you recoiled in fear watching his body slowly slip from his imprisonment like gelatin exits a mold.

“I’ve got elastic bones kid! Whatever breaks just snaps right back into place.”

Skin stretching and pulling as he regained his original form, legs sprinting towards you. Before you could fire off your Quirk’s sonic blast his grip seized the back of your neck, a blade taking residence just below your left eye; it’s tip pressing uncomfortably into your water line. 

“Now, if you're good, I’ll make it quick. Though I’m known for being pretty... through with my toys.” Kinan leers, a hand slowly slithering down your sides to reach for the muscle of your ass. 

“Go to hell, and die there while you’re at it!” You shout.

Bile creeping into your throat, you seize the momentary shift in energy, generating a small sound wave that sent Kinan a few feet to your left; giving the two of you some distance. Your Quirk allowed you to absorb sound to power-up your physical movements, or send it out in the form of sonic blasts or sound waves, so the louder the sound, the more power it gave you. Readying your fists in anticipation for combat, you silently willed for a sudden disruption in the deafening silence as he rushed back to your rigid body. 

What you didn’t anticipate was that the sudden bang that filled the air, and the lifeless body of Kinan dropping to your feet with a thud, his head...

excavated, for lack of a better word.

“Don’t you know the entire point of having backup while under cover is to... call for backup?” Edgeshot snarked, striding towards you, gun settled back into it’s holster. His foot carelessly nudged the bleeding man before removing a Polaroid camera from his knapsack and snapping a photo of the carnage.

“W-what the fuck?! Look, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful when I say this, but what the absolute fuck did you just do??? We’re government agents, in a foreign country, we can’t just fucking murder these assholes nor do we have the license to-” You sputter, brows arching in frustration.

“This was your ticket into Guadalajara. I just secured you box seats when you were this close to getting stuck in the damned nosebleeds. I believe the correct words you’re looking for are thank you.” Kamihara snaps, shoving the photo into your hand. 

“We’re in a world completely different from our own. It’s forgiveness first, and permission later down here. I don’t like it either...but it’s just the way things are.” He sighs, hanging his head while his shoulders settled like the solar system rested on them. 

“I’ll take care of this. Now take that to Hawks, and don’t you dare fuck it up. Don’t let me have killed this poor asshole in vain.” 

You nod, stepping over Kinan’s body. 

Good riddance.

“Thank you, by the way.” You putter. Kamihara returns the sentiment with a nod, before turning to the corpse before him, phone raised to his ear as he spoke with whoever was on the opposite line, eyes that were once grey now swam with deep scarlet.

“Excellent work! I won’t lie, I had a feeling you were hardcore, but damn, this is some seamless shit! You deserve my praise.” Keigo beams, pearly teeth sparkling in the light of the cabin. Nodding in acceptance you grasped his hand upon his offering, permitting him to escort you towards your respective aircraft.

“Well, a promise is a promise. And if nothing else, I’m most certainly a man of my word. Meet me at this airstrip same time tomorrow, 8am. Pack light, Mexico’s a bitch in the summer, though you already know that.”

“Got it. Pleasure doing business with you, Hawks.”

“Call me Keigo, if you want. I hate all the formal shit, long as we got respect, that's all I need.” He shrugs.

“Understood. See you tomorrow, Keigo.” You affirm, climbing the ladder to your jet, body visibly relaxing at the thought of rest.

“Wait--before you go, I wanted to ask ya. What’s with the whole ancient hieroglyphics tat you got goin on, on your spine? It just looks familiar, is all.” He queries.

Home.

November 12th, 2174.

“Y/N! I found somethin’! It’s this super cool protection rune I found in grandma’s things. Check it out! It wards off all evil, and whoever’s in possession of it can, like, balance their energy with the divine power.”

“You’re such a hippie, I swear to god.” You grin.

“Don’t hate because my chakras are balanced and yours aren’t, bitch.” She grinned, index and thumb coming together to flick your forehead. 

“At least take it with you for your exam, for good luck! Pleaseeeee! I think it’ll really help.” Her doe eyes melting your steely resolve. You could never deny her, those eyes constantly solidifying her role as the younger sister. 

“...Only if you’ll clean my room for me when I come back for Christmas.” You demand, an eyebrow raised in mirth.

“Deal.”

And even though you never did admit it to her, that tiny piece of paper tucked into your bra did more for you during that exam than any late night cram session ever could’ve.

“It’s a protection rune. To ward off all evil energies, spirits and all that shit.” You mutter.

“Hm. Looks like it works, seeing how well tonight panned out for ya. Could use me one, would probably keep old man Todoroki out my fuckin’ hair.” He chuckles, hands releasing from the railing as he threw you a wave.

“But I wouldn’t worry too much about tomorrow, anyway. I got a feeling you’re gonna fit in just fine with us.” He smirked.

Ah.

If only that were true, Keigo.

taglist! : @liliesoftherainmain @therealwalmartjesus

[athena1138]

💕📷👻

My top 2 fav fictional characters?

Right this second, poison ivy and peregrin pippin took (im having a lotr marathon)

The 12th picture on my phone rn is

(Shocking, a selfie lmao)

I do believe in ghosts, yeah. Idk exactly in what manner, but i do believe in spirits and (i know, i know, im so white) ive seen some.

I'll explain.

I used to live in this house out in the country, k? It was a standard 100yo farm house. I lived there from age 6-13 til it burnt down.

While i was there, shit moved on its own. I was once home alone and someone standing right behind me said my name super clearly. My closet would unlock itself and once i came home and the door was open, everything i had had barracading it had been pushed out as if the door was forced from the inside. (I am now terrified of closets.)

After the house burnt down, we went and stayed in this apartment in the little town i lived near. The building had been there since the 1820s or some shit, and a lot of the furniture was old. It was being used as a wood carvers club. It was one apartment with a bathroom attached and then my room was separate further down the long hallway, and across the hall was a large showroom filled with carvings and shit and the kitchen. Also on the floor was a boiler room and a storage room. The floor above us was being renovated to become a ballroom like it had used to be but for that time ot was just storage, lots of decorations and whatnot.

I fucking hated that place. It was terrifying. I always felt like i was never alone in my room. I had to call my boyfriend to talk me to sleep most nights. I had a friend over one day and he took one step into my room (in broad daylight, mind,) and immediately said "oh no i dont like this room we should leave." So we did, went and watched most of a movie, then we decided to go explore the upstairs because yknow we were kids.

Now. Please note. We were completely alone in the entire building. My parents were not home. The carver club is not open on sundays which this was. There is no neighboring 3 story buildings.

We were walking around when we found this wheelchair sitting in the middle of a window. It creeped us out a little so we decided to leave. My friend stopped me on the stair and said, "dyou hear that?" And i listened.

Above us, on the 3rd floor where we had just been, completely alone, we could hear footsteps like men's dress shoes. Coming towards us.

We fuckin bolted, man.

Later, like 3 years ago later, i was talking with my mom and we had our "dyou believe in ghosts" discussion and she was like "oh fuck yeah." She told me about shit being moved in our old house and hearing the occasional voice. Then in the apartment, she said she heard a woman's voice coming from my room a lot (at like 4am) and she'd come and i would be sound asleep, and sometimes she would wake up and hear a woman sobbing outside her window but when she looked she'd see nobody and there were no footprints in the snow, and she says my dad heard it a few times, too, because at first he thought she was being ridiculous until he heard it, too.

So. Yes. I believe in ghosts lol.

Edit: thank you, anon ❤

[supersugatrash]

Welcome. First Time with BTS? Drabble #01

A/N: Annyeong! So, you’re probably wondering why the hell I’ve been working on a drabble rather than the actual story. Welp, I kept thinking about how Taehyung became the way he is now and what was going through his head during the party. Well, 2.6k words later, here we are. I don’t know if I will make regular drabbles from now on, but maybe from time to time. Hope you enjoy… whatever this is.

Genre: Gang/Mafia!AU; Taehyung POV; Angst; Fluff

Word Count: 2633

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14

Warnings: Strong Language, Mental & Physical Abuse, Antisocial Personality Disorder (Sociopathy) – You have been warned.

“Antisocial personality disorder with sociopathic tendencies.” Those were the words the psychiatrist used to describe Taehyung when he was only ten. They echoed in his head like a chant that day as he was sitting at the large wooden dining table and mindlessly poked around in his elaborate meal. He was angry, angry at the world for not understanding him, for not seeing him as normal. He blamed everyone else for making him the way he was. He blamed everyone but himself.

A few years before, he was still craving attention when he blew up his neighbour’s mailbox with a firecracker. Attention from his father, his mother, anyone. But what he got was not at all what he was looking for. No words were spoken as he received his punishment in the form of a stern look, followed by a firm slap across his face from the man he had looked up to. The disappointment in his father’s eyes every time he failed him as an heir and son was something Taehyung would never forget.

But the abuse didn't stop there. Mister Kim blamed the young boy when his mother left them only a year later. "She did it because you're a disgrace. She is ashamed of you," he'd say and the child believed him. Taehyung was angry with himself for driving his parents away from him, for not being more loveable. But eventually, the guilt faded.

When Taehyung was fourteen, he started staying out until the early morning hours. He would spend all night picking fights with people he had outwitted and getting into trouble for hitting on the wrong girls. He was incredibly smart for his age, most of the time finding easy ways to escape dangerous situations just by talking it out or because of his expert levels of deception, but he would eventually mess with the wrong people.

Not even a hint of remorse was left when Taehyung was sixteen, his father's words numbing any emotion he could have. "I will no longer tolerate this behaviour. From today onward I do not have a son." His father said when Taehyung called him from jail, asking him to pay his bail. Being disowned by his own family should have hurt him, it should have broken him, but there was nothing. He expected this to happen, he wrote his father off as unreliable and heartless years ago, so he hung up on him with a straight face and waited.

He waited in his cell for two days when he was suddenly facing someone he had only heard stories about, someone he had never met in person until that day; The owner of The Slaughterhouse and leader of Bangtan Sonyeondan. The infamous Kim Namjoon.

"I'm only helping you out on one condition,” Namjoon said to him as they looked at each other through the bars. “I want you to join us.”

---

You had shut yourself in for only a day and Taehyung already noticed the change in everyone's behaviour. Nobody felt like going out, nobody was talking about anything other than you and Hoseok, nobody was interested in him any longer. And soon he was bored out of his mind. Where was all the excitement they felt before? Having you around spiced things up tremendously and Taehyung was enjoying himself for the first time in years with all the action your addition to the group brought. But now all of it was gone. Just because of a simple mistake Hoseok had made on one of his jobs that lead to him being followed to his home and getting shot.

Taehyung needed to change something and quick. He couldn't help Hoseok, he was no miracle worker, but maybe he could get you to open up. Some people are difficult to figure out, but most of the time all it took was a story. A story that would connect him to the other person on a deeper level – even if he had to embellish the truth just a little bit. Telling you about the first person he had murdered was sure to do the trick.

As soon as you started talking and eating again, his brothers became more active as well. He was once again welcome to visit Jungkook at home and observe the people on the street through the wall of monitors and Seokjin invited him over to his place to pick up the food he had prepared. Even Namjoon started giving him minor tasks again and slowly getting the business back on track. Finally, Taehyung had something to do again. Something that wasn't listening to everyone's complaints. And all it took was to spend some time with you.

He had to admit it, you weren’t so bad to have around. At least when you weren’t so depressed about everything. You were funny, had your heart in the right place and you weren’t too bad on the eyes either. If the situation hadn’t been so fucked up he could have even imagined himself making serious advances towards you. But then again, he wasn’t interested in a love quadrangle.

---

His first real job, after a week of miniscule tasks, finally came around. Namjoon had instructed him to go to a party and find a certain person that held information of utmost importance to Bangtan. All he had to do was talk, while Jimin got his hands dirty. It was nothing to Taehyung, a job you would give to a newbie, but it was something. Within seconds he thought of multiple ways to sneak in, but ultimately decided the easiest approach would be the front door. He knew the people at the event, he knew the ins and outs of the world they lived in. After all, he was part of the same society for most of his life. And then he got an idea.

“There’s this party tonight the boss wants me to attend, but I’m having a hard time finding a plus one.” He saw the curiosity in your eyes the moment he had mentioned something about his job. Of course he didn’t have trouble finding someone, if he wanted he could have shown up with ten girls on each arm to the gathering, but he simply hadn’t asked anyone else. You were the only one he wanted by his side that evening. Not for sentimental reasons, of course, he simply thought it would be fun. You were in no way trained to act appropriately in those kinds of situations, it was sure to be an eventful evening.

Patiently, he waited for your response, though the outcome was already clear the second he told you about the party. “I can come with you.” It was almost too easy, as if he had put the words in your mouth himself. But there was still a hint of uncertainty in your voice, a tone that carried all your hesitation, which was immediately erased the second he tried to talk you out of it.

---

For the first time in over five years, Taehyung was standing in front of his father. It was the first time he had felt uneasy in a while as he inspected the man that threw him out of his house, parading around a woman who might as well had been his older sister. To make matters worse he had called Taehyung son, as if it was a word that carried any kind of meaning to him.

The only form of comfort Taehyung had that night was knowing you were there. You weren’t going to betray him, at least not on that specific evening, you were simply too kind and naïve.

“So, Hanna is your girlfriend? Why have I never met her before?”

Taehyung couldn’t help but scoff at his father’s words. “I don’t know, father. Maybe because you disowned your own son when he needed your help the most?”

“Don’t start anything with me now, son. People could hear your baseless accusations.”

“Ah, yes. I forgot your image meant more to you than the well-being of your child.” He rolled his eyes, the nerves the man in front of him had to tell him what to do were actually laughable. “It would be outrageous if people would think of you as anything other than a loving father.”

“How dare you speak to me this way? I have given you everything you needed and you still turned out to be a disrespectful child.” His father didn’t need to raise his voice to carry out a heavy feeling within Taehyung. But those feelings weren’t pain, all he felt was anger for letting him continuously lie to his face. He worked hard for his father’s attention when he was young. He may have been fed and dressed, but that was nothing compared to the love he always craved.

“Well, at least you have one child with you tonight that’s willing to fulfil every single one of your ridiculous demands. How is that gold-digging wench of yours doing anyways?” Taehyung had a smug smile on his face as he spoke to the man, proud of the insults he had thrown around towards him and his stepmother. But his father wasn’t as pleased as him. Without a warning he attempted to slap Taehyung across the face, but he managed to duck just in time. Too many times had he been on the receiving end of his violence when he was a child, but now he was an adult with the graceful reflexes and speed of a peregrine falcon.

“I see you are still the same violent bastard you have always been.” Taehyung straitened his clothes as he spoke and looked the man in front of him straight in the eyes. “If you’d excuse me, I have more important matters to attend to.” And with that, he left his father, who was fuming with rage at the aggravating encounter, standing by himself.

Besides the little hiccup with his father, the rest of the night went smoothly for Taehyung. He quickly identified his target as he made idle chit-chat with multiple other people and called Jimin to take care of business. Within ten minutes of his go, the short man was inside the venue and knocked out the target. Perfect. Now all they needed was a little distraction.

---

Taehyung was pleased with himself as every step of his plan seamlessly fell into place. The proposal went smoothly, even though he was worried for just a second you might refuse him his victory, and Jimin got away without being spotted. This called for celebration.

As the two of you swayed to the music on the dancefloor, Taehyung noticed a shimmer as he looked into your eyes and it triggered something within him. Something he hadn’t felt before. Something he thought nobody else deserved from him. Ba-bump. His cheeks turned a peachy shade of pink as he felt his heart beat freely for the first time. Ba-bump. Ba-bump. An unsteady beat that overpowered the rhythm of the music. As he went to dip you, he felt as if the small of your back was made for his hand, and his only. What was this feeling? It couldn’t have been…

Love is all that I can give to you. Love is more than just a game for two.

It felt as if that single word was mocking him as it stuck out to him like a sore thumb. Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump. He was sure you could feel his heart was about to jump out of his chest, so he quickly took a deep breath before he spoke. “Y/N-ah,” it was the first time he called you by your name and it scared him how perfect it sounded. Your enjoyed hum against his skin didn’t help either as he had to swallow every bit of nervousness. “I hate to ruin the mood, but we need to get going.” You didn’t, but he did. It was concerning to him how comfortable he felt around you. Was this what genuine affection felt like?

“Please, Taehyung-ah,” he blinked once, twice when you said his name. You said it so softly, so sweet and innocent, yet there was this need for more; a need for him. Nothing could ever compare to how it made him feel like you were just his. “just one more song.” For the first time in his life, he felt at peace. He had been happy many times, but this joy was entirely different, it felt more honest than he had ever been. It reminded him of his childhood, this was what he had always been wanting. Taehyung let out a soft chuckle as he continued holding onto you tightly, afraid the second he’d let go he would realise this moment never actually happened.

Ba-bump.

---

As soon as you stepped out of the mansion, you were no longer Taehyung and Hanna. He could no longer allow himself to be deceived by the fantasy he had created. Especially since he was so certain you were merely playing along to keep up the act. He simply couldn’t face you anymore with the emotions in his head driving him crazy. As he walked off, gratified with how the night turned out, he noticed you stopping in your tracks, seemingly a million miles away from him. “You coming, noona?” he was looking at you expectantly, but he continued walking as if he was running away from the urge to go back to the world where the two of you could have been.

As you quietly stomped past him, he was confused. Why weren’t you just as thrilled as him about the successful act the two of you kept up? When you sat down on the bench, he immediately joined you, as if he was pulled towards your very being by a rubber band.

“What was that stunt all about?” Your question was filled with emotions and on top of that list was your anger. As you waited for the car and continued speaking in that tone, one word continuously spun around in his head. Why? Why were you so angry? Why were you not smiling anymore? Why did it feel like every time he looked at your sad face he was burning up inside?

The car ride back to the practice was quiet, but he needed the silence. It was as if his mind couldn’t function anymore, the same word continuously flashing up like a virus. Nothing made sense anymore.

When the vehicle came to a halt in front of the familiar building, he couldn’t keep quiet anymore. He simply had to know. “Hey,” his voice was small, like that of a child that had just been scolded, his usual confidence nowhere to be seen. “We’re still good, right, noona?”

The second the words had left his lips he had realised something. He couldn’t read you anymore, the simple fact he had to ask about your feelings made it clear. The lines between Hanna and Y/N were too blurred as he searched your eyes for an answer.

“No.” It was the saddest word in every language in response to that question. He was thinking about every possible reply you could have given him, except that one. But before he could get another word in, you rushed out of the car and went inside, without looking back at him once.

That night he was lying on his bed. He thought about his past, about the party, but the one thing that kept him awake was you. The way you looked at him with that same disappointed look in your eyes as everybody else in his life pained him. But it was that same night when he realised for the first time how agonising it felt to be hurt by someone he cared for.