#get to the end and then go back to the start and read it slowly the next time. it's so fun. I LOVE STORIES!!!!!!!

[pucksandpower]

Your Love Is My Drug

Oscar Piastri x Norris!Reader

Summary: Lando’s teammate is behaving strangely, so of course the logical assumption is that Oscar must be on drugs (the truth ends up being so much worse … for Lando)

The McLaren garage buzzes with activity as mechanics scurry about, preparing for the upcoming race weekend. Lando leans against the wall, his brow furrowed in concentration as he observes his teammate from across the room.

Something’s off about Oscar today. Actually, if Lando’s being honest with himself, something’s been off about Oscar for weeks now. The usually composed Aussie seems ... different.

Fidgety.

Distracted.

As if on cue, Oscar lets out another of those odd little giggles he’s been prone to lately. Lando’s eyes narrow.

“Oi, Piastri!” He calls out, striding over to where Oscar is hunched over his phone. “What’s so funny, mate?”

Oscar’s head snaps up, his cheeks flushed a deep pink. “Oh, uh, nothing,” he stammers, hastily shoving his phone into his pocket. “Just ... just a meme.”

Lando raises an eyebrow. “A meme? Since when are you so into memes?”

“I’ve always liked memes,” Oscar protests weakly.

“Right,” Lando drawls, unconvinced. He watches as Oscar shifts uncomfortably, tugging at the waistband of his jeans.

A sudden, horrifying thought strikes Lando. No ... it couldn’t be. Could it?

“Hey, Oscar,” he says slowly, trying to keep his tone casual. “You feeling alright? You’ve seemed a bit ... off lately.”

Oscar’s eyes widen slightly. “Off? What do you mean?”

Lando shrugs, aiming for nonchalance. “I dunno, just ... different. Distracted. You keep laughing at nothing and your face is all red.”

“Oh, that’s ... that’s nothing,” Oscar says, waving a hand dismissively. “Just, uh, excited about the race, I guess.”

Lando’s not buying it. “Excited, huh? Is that why you keep fidgeting with your pants, too?”

Oscar freezes, his hand stilling where it had been absently adjusting his waistband. “I ... what?”

“Your jeans,” Lando repeats, gesturing towards Oscar’s lower half. “You keep messing with them. What’s that about?”

“Nothing!” Oscar yelps, a bit too quickly. “They’re just ... new. Still breaking them in.”

Lando’s eyes narrow further. He remembers something, vaguely, from one of the few health lessons he’d managed to stay awake for back in school. Something about drug users and fidgeting ...

No. Surely not. Not Oscar.

But the more Lando thinks about it, the more it starts to make a twisted kind of sense. The secrecy, the mood swings, the constant flush on Oscar’s cheeks ...

“Oscar,” Lando says, his voice low and serious. “I need you to be honest with me. Are you ... are you on something?”

Oscar’s jaw drops. “What? No! Of course not!”

“Because if you are,” Lando presses on, ignoring Oscar’s protests, “I need to know. As your teammate. As your friend. This isn’t just about you, mate. It’s about the whole team.”

“Lando, I swear, I’m not on anything,” Oscar insists, his voice taking on a pleading edge. “I don’t know where you’re getting this idea from, but-”

“Then explain the giggling!” Lando demands, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “And the blushing! And the fidgeting! Something’s clearly going on with you, and if you’re not gonna be straight with me-”

“I can’t!” Oscar bursts out, then immediately claps a hand over his mouth, looking stricken.

Lando’s eyes widen. “Can’t what?”

Oscar shakes his head, looking miserable. “I can’t ... I can’t tell you. I’m sorry, Lando. I know I’ve been acting weird, but I promise it’s nothing bad. I’m not on drugs or anything like that. I just ... I can’t explain right now.”

Lando stares at his teammate, torn between frustration and concern. “Oscar, come on. We’re supposed to be friends. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

Oscar’s phone chimes, and he jumps, fumbling to pull it out of his pocket. His eyes widen as he reads whatever message has just come through, and a small, dopey smile spreads across his face.

“Sorry,” he says distractedly, already typing out a response. “I’ve gotta go. We’ll talk later, yeah?”

Before Lando can protest, Oscar is hurrying out of the garage, leaving Lando staring after him in bewilderment.

“What the hell was that about?” Lando mutters to himself.

He’s still pondering Oscar’s strange behavior when his own phone buzzes. It’s a message from you.

Hey! Surprise — I’m at the track! Want to grab dinner?

Lando grins, momentarily distracted from his worries about Oscar. Absolutely, he types back. Meet you at the hotel in a few hours?

Later that evening, Lando’s sitting in the hotel restaurant, drumming his fingers impatiently on the table as he waits for you to arrive. His mind keeps drifting back to Oscar’s odd behavior, and he’s half-tempted to text you and ask if you’ve noticed anything strange about his teammate lately.

Before he can act on the impulse, you breeze into the restaurant, a bright smile on your face. “Lando!” You exclaim, rushing over to give him a hug.

“Hey, trouble,” Lando says fondly, returning the embrace. “What brings you to the race? I thought you were busy with work.”

You shrug, sliding into the seat across from him. “Oh, you know, just missed my second favorite brother. Thought I’d surprise you.”

Lando narrows his eyes playfully. “I finally won a race and I’m still not your favorite?”

“You can’t win everything,” you say with a grin. “Wouldn’t want your head getting any bigger than it already is.”

As you settle in and start perusing the menu, Lando can’t help but notice that you seem ... different. There’s a certain glow about you, a sparkle in your eye that he hasn’t seen before.

“You look happy,” he observes. “Something good happen at work?”

You bite your lip, looking suddenly nervous. “Oh, um, not really. Just ... life in general, I guess.”

Lando’s about to press further when his phone buzzes. He glances down to see a message from Oscar.

Hey, mate. Sorry about earlier. Can we talk?

Lando frowns, torn between his curiosity about Oscar’s situation and his desire to spend time with you.

“Everything okay?” You ask, noticing his expression.

Lando sighs. “I don’t know. It’s Oscar. He’s been acting really weird lately, and I’m worried about him.”

Your eyes widen almost imperceptibly. “Weird how?”

“Just ... off,” Lando says, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “He’s all giggly and distracted, his face is constantly red, and he keeps fidgeting with his clothes. I’m worried he might be ... you know ...”

You lean forward, your brow furrowed in concern. “Might be what?”

Lando lowers his voice, glancing around to make sure no one’s listening. “On drugs,” he whispers.

To his surprise, you burst out laughing. “Oscar? On drugs? Are you serious?”

“It’s not funny!” Lando hisses, feeling defensive. “I’m really worried about him. He won’t tell me what’s going on, but something clearly is.”

You sober quickly, reaching across the table to pat his hand. “I’m sorry, you’re right. It’s not funny. But Lando, I really don’t think Oscar’s on drugs. Maybe there’s another explanation?”

“Like what?” Lando demands.

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can say anything, Lando’s phone buzzes again. Another message from Oscar.

I’m in the lobby. Can we talk now? It’s important.

Lando looks up at you apologetically. “It’s Oscar again. He says he needs to talk. Do you mind if I ...”

You wave a hand, looking strangely nervous. “No, no, go ahead. I’ll wait here.”

Lando nods gratefully and heads for the lobby, his mind racing. What could be so important that Oscar needs to talk right now?

He spots his teammate pacing near the elevators, looking agitated. “Oscar?” He calls out.

Oscar’s head snaps up, and Lando is struck again by the flush on his cheeks. “Lando! Thanks for coming. I ... I need to tell you something.”

Lando crosses his arms, trying to look stern despite his worry. “Yeah, I’d say you do. What’s going on with you, mate? And don’t try to tell me it’s nothing, because-”

“I’m dating your sister!” Oscar blurts out.

Lando blinks, certain he must have misheard. “I’m sorry, what?”

Oscar takes a deep breath, steeling himself. “I’m dating your sister,” he repeats, more slowly this time. “Y/N. We’ve been seeing each other for a few months now.”

Lando’s mind goes blank. He opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again. No sound comes out.

“I know it’s a shock,” Oscar continues, words tumbling out in a rush. “And I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sooner. We wanted to make sure it was serious before we said anything. But I really care about her, Lando. And I hope ... I hope you can be okay with this.”

Lando’s brain is still struggling to process this information. “But ... but the giggling,” he manages to stammer out. “And the blushing. And the fidgeting.”

Oscar’s blush deepens. “Ah, yeah. That’s ... that’s because of Y/N. She’s been sending me these ... messages. And pictures. Really cute ones!” He adds hastily, seeing Lando’s eyes widen in horror. “Nothing inappropriate! Just ... you know. Flirty.”

Lando holds up a hand, feeling slightly nauseous. “Please, I really don’t need details.”

“Right, sorry,” Oscar says sheepishly. “Anyway, that’s why I’ve been acting weird. I was trying to keep it a secret, but I guess I’m not very good at hiding how I feel.”

Lando’s head is spinning. His teammate and his little sister. Dating. It’s too much to process.

“Lando?” Oscar’s voice sounds concerned. “Are you okay? You look a bit pale.”

Lando opens his mouth to respond, but the world suddenly tilts sideways. The last thing he hears before everything goes black is Oscar’s panicked voice calling his name.

When Lando comes to, he’s lying on a couch in the hotel lobby, with you and Oscar hovering anxiously over him.

“Oh thank god,” you breathe as his eyes flutter open. “Lando, are you okay?”

Lando groans, pushing himself into a sitting position. “What happened?”

“You fainted,” Oscar supplies helpfully. “Right after I told you about ... you know.”

The memory comes flooding back, and Lando groans again, this time for an entirely different reason. “So it wasn’t a dream, then? You two are really ...”

You nod, looking nervous but determined. “We are. I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sooner. We wanted to make sure it was, you know, real first.”

Lando looks between the two of you, taking in Oscar’s anxious expression and the way your hand is clasped tightly in his. Despite his shock, he can’t deny the genuine affection he sees there.

“Well,” he says finally, his voice rough. “I suppose this is better than you being on drugs.”

Oscar lets out a startled laugh. “You really thought I was on drugs?”

Lando shrugs defensively. “What was I supposed to think? You were acting so weird!”

“That’s just because he’s head over heels for me,” you say teasingly, bumping Oscar’s shoulder with your own.

Oscar grins dopily, and Lando has to resist the urge to roll his eyes. “Clearly,” he mutters.

There’s a moment of awkward silence before you speak up again. “So ... are you okay with this? Us being together?”

Lando looks at you, his beloved little sister, then at Oscar, his teammate and friend. He sees the happiness radiating from both of you, the way you lean into each other unconsciously.

He sighs dramatically. “I suppose I’ll have to be,” he says, unable to keep a small smile from tugging at his lips. “But I swear, Piastri, if you hurt her-”

“I won’t,” Oscar interrupts, his voice firm and sincere. “I promise, Lando. I’ll take good care of her.”

Lando nods, satisfied for now. “Good. And for the love of all that is holy, please keep the flirting to a minimum around me. I really don’t need to see that.”

You and Oscar laugh, the tension finally breaking. As Lando watches the two of you together, he can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this might not be such a bad thing after all.

But he’s definitely going to need some time to get used to it. And possibly some therapy.

[totalswag]

Hii I have reques if you feel comfortable with it!

I read your drew fic with the arrest and I loved it!! I was wondering if reader was preforming bed chem outro instead of the back up singer it’s Drew and they get a little to carried away in front of the crowd. If That makes sense💕

bed chem ⎯ DREW STARKEY

authors note thank you for sending this request and it makes glad you liked my arrested for being too hot fic. my requests are still open and i'm gonna be working on the requests that are in my inbox right now from recent requests. also, you can picture singer!reader picture any way you want <3 i’m using sabrina carpenter as inspo for singer!reader.

taglist ⤕ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set.

summary drew coming on stage at the very end of your song and you both get lost in the moment for a second in front of fans.

warning(s) mentions of intimate positions, kissing, touching.

Earlier in the show, you arrested Drew, your boyfriend, for being too hot— everyone in the arena went crazy seeing him. What they aren't expecting to Drew making a second appearance.

At the very end of bed chem one of your backup dancers will come into frame holding a camera on his shoulder, and when the curtain closes you pretend to do intimate things then the stage lights go off.

Prior to the show you asked Drew if he would be okay to go this— he agreed. Making sure he's comfortable was your first priority. He talked about different ways coming on stage that were so funny.

You start singing the final chorus of bed chem on your knees, legs wide out and free hand in front of you as you lean forward. The curtain signal is about to close. From the corner of your vision, you can see Drew approaching with the camera on his shoulder, dressed in dark pants and a white tank top—fans immediately began to cheer as he entered the frame.

He looked so good you couldn't control the redness of your cheeks spreading like a teenager seeing their crush.

To make the moment better, you sway your body around on the bed, allowing yourself to relax. Drew is looking at you with a smile on his face as he gets closer to the edge of the bed.

Motioning him to get closer— he lifts one leg on the bed as the curtain makes its way around the bed. Slowly setting down the camera on the edge of the bed.

You moved closer to Drew, pressing your bodies together in a false display of intimacy. Drew played along well, massaging your sides as he drew you closer. The crowd's cheers intensified, and the excitement in the arena reached a fever pitch.

You leaned in and kissed Drew deeply, as the curtain began to close behind you. The kiss was supposed to be a tease, a staged performance for the spectators, but you found yourself becoming lost in it.

Drew's hands crept up to cradle your face, his touch soft yet forceful. You forgot about the crowd, the cameras, and everything. It was just you and Drew, completely lost in each other.

Your hands drag down his bare chest, and he leaps forward into you at the gentleness of your touch, sending lightning down your body. 

Once the lights turn off you both pull away from each other. Everything in your body right now is all over the place you think you are gonna explode. You are breathing heavily.

"You always know how to put on a show," he said quietly, his voice hoarse.

You giggled softly, your fingertips tracing the contour of his jawline. "And you always know how to make it unforgettable."

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[keferon]

So I had ideas for Mecha Pilot AU while reading some of the things that other people have sent and those ideas turned into this!

Enjoy some Hot Rod shenanigans!

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

It starts when Hot Rod catches First Aid trying to smuggle a metal sheet out of the base. 

Well, no, it really started when the higher ups said that Jazz, allegedly, stole a half put together experimental mech unit. Which, Hot Rod would like to point out, makes absolutely no sense. Jazz is smart. If he was going to steal a mech, he’d wait until it was completely built and fully functional. No, there was something else going on and it had something to do with those strange upgrades that a few of the mechs got. Jazz had taken one look at them and booked it. 

Then immediately stole a half made mech that was completely covered in the stuff. 

All of this happening after he had been gone for months before mysteriously returning. 

Point is there’s something going on and it started with Jazz.

Presently, it has something to do with First Aid and the hunk of metal he’s carting around. 

The hunk of metal that looks like that strange upgraded plating. 

“Sooo…” Hot Rod says as he looks the other pilot over, “We stealing now?”

“No, I- this is- Vortex is up next for the-.”

“Nah man, you’re fine.” Hot Rod walks over to the back of the cart and places a hand on the metal. “I’m game for whatever we’re doing, I just want to know if we need to be sneaky.”

“It- what? We?”

“Yeah.” Hot Rod smiles and tilts his head to the side, like this was a given. “So, we stealing?”

First Aid gives him a look that’s a cross between befuddlement and scrutiny. It’s one he gets often, but the newer pilot seems well practiced with it. A solid eight out of ten honestly.

“This isn’t for profit.” First Aid says slowly. “And this isn’t for me.”

Hot Rod’s smile takes a slightly more feral edge. “Even better.”

_._._

Apparently Jazz has an alien robot boyfriend and the higher ups were using parts of his body for upgrades. 

Very morbid, but sadly not surprising.

They need to get as much of the original frame as possible back to Ratchet as that would make repairs easier. 

They’ve apparently been getting a lot of the pieces that had already been on other mechs through “collateral damage”.

First Aid had shrugged, “It’s not my fault if an upgraded mech gets between Vortex and a monster.”

The real tricky bits to get were the ones still on base and being tested. Which, for some reason, included an entire oversized thumb.

An oversized thumb he and First Aid are trying to sneak out from under Shockwave’s nose. 

“The rest of the hand was in random parts of the base.” Hot Rod mutters. “Why did the thumb need to be in such a secure area?”

“Complain louder. I don’t think the bugs heard you.” First Aid sasses in a hissed whisper. 

Hot Rod shivers at the reminder of Shockwave’s “helpers”. Knee high robots with four legs and a hexagonal face. They would’ve been cute had their singular yellow eye not reminded him of the eerie visage that is now the scientist's face. Shockwave used them to help in his work but to also keep an eye on his lab and the surrounding hallways. 

“Don’t even go there, Aid. You’ll end up jinxing-.”

His warning is interrupted by a faint skittering from around the next corner. 

“Crap crap crap crap crap crap crap.” Hot Rod looks around frantically before shoving himself, First Aid, and the thumb into the nearest door.

It turns out to be a closet. What kind of closet? Hot Rod doesn’t know and he refuses to find out. While it could be a normal supply closet, he’s not taking the chance that it could also be storage for strange and dubiously ethical experiments. 

So Hot Rod crams himself into the small space while keeping his eyes entirely focused on the door as he closes it. He and First Aid hold their breaths as the skittering of the bug gets louder, comes right in front of their hiding spot, then continues on without pause. 

They both let out sighs of relief and Hot Rod sets his forehead on the door. 

First Aid makes an inquiring hum. “There’s a vent in here. Think the thumb would fit?”

“Oh no.” Hot Rod says, face still against the door. “Do you have any idea how loud that would be? We aren’t dragging a large metal thumb through the metal vents and destroying our hearing with the echoing screeches.”

“Well, what do you propose we do then? Take it out the front door?”

_._._

“That never should have worked.” 

“You should never underestimate the power of looking like you know what you’re doing while carrying a box.”

“That never should have worked.”

Said large and long box holding the alien robot thumb sat innocently in the back seat of Hot Rod’s truck. 

_._._

“We need a movie for Rachet and Drift.”

Ratchet, who is helping Jazz repair Prowl, gives Hot Rod that “befuddled and scrutinizing” look that everyone seems to give him (A definite ten out of ten for Ratchet; truly a professional in giving out looks to others). “What?”

“Well, yeah! We’ve got Ratatouille for Jazz and Prowl. Aid and Vortex got a reverse Ratatouille-.”

“How’d you hear about that?” First Aid demands.

“Tailgate.” Hot Rod answers easily, then turns back to Ratchet to continue his previous thought. “So now we need to think of a movie for you and Drift!”

Ratchet’s eyes narrow in the unspoken promise of bad things to come. “No.”

Hot Rod, being the one who got a mech that catches on fire and made it work, takes Ratchet’s look as a challenge. He snaps his finger and points at the older man “I got it! ‘The Iron Giant’.”

Ratchet scoffs, rolls his eyes, and gets back to working in the alien robot’s arm. 

“What?” Jazz protests, while keeping his main focus on the internals of Prowl’s arm, “Iron Giant? Really? That’s a loose connection at best and you know it.”

“Oh? And do you have something better?” Hot Rod playfully challenges. 

“Dude, ‘Lilo and Stitch’ is right there.”

“How is that any better than mine?”

“Because War Crimes McGee here,” Jazz gestures to an amused looking Drift before getting back to his work, “is a better fit for Stitch than the Iron Giant any day of the week.”

Jazz may have a point, but while Hot Rod’s mom may have raised a fool, she definitely didn’t raise a quitter. 

“So Ratchet here tells Drift all about ohana and kicks off his character arc?”

“Not everything's one to one, Roddy. I’m not using Prowl to become the best chef is Paris. You just don’t want to admit I’m right.”

“I agree with Jazz.” First Aid cuts in. 

Hot Rod gives him a mock glare. “You’re just saying that so you won’t have to agree with me.”

First Aid shrugs. “True, but that doesn’t mean he’s wrong.”

“Children. The lot of you.” Ratchet grumbles. 

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

And yeah! Ideas was mostly ‘Hey, they could probably have Vortex get pieces of Prowl back since fights like that are bound to be very chaotic and Vortex would have no hang ups about attacking allies every now and then’

It went further as the idea of Hot Rod and First Aid trying to do spy things and be sneaky but somehow succeeding due to Shenanigans was too funny to pass up XD

Loving this AU so far and all the cool stuff people are making for it!

OMG THE CHILDREN ARE STEALING FROM THE BIG CORPORATION IM SO PROUD OF THEM~~

Also the way all these different plot lines are crossing each other and occasionally coming together is just so cool I love it

Like, yeah we have fucked up horror, we have space drama, we have Lilo and Stitch aaaaand we have option to combine them together. Also now there is Shockwave so all the guys have the "free angst" option I gues ahahah

[thehutpoint]

Aaah, for me it was not "The Terror" though it did play an important part. It was "The Last Place On Earth", Titus, crawling on all fours out of the tent and it might be some time, and the lonely cairn slowly drowning in the snow out there in the white vastness of Antarctic. It premiered in Polish TV in 1986 I think, so I was what, eight at the time? But yeah, that's how it started. These pictures stuck in my mind like a shhip stucks in the pack ice.

And then, two years later I found these under the Christmas tree.

Four brochures with stories from the Arctic. Yeah, these were still the (not so) merry times of the Iron Curtain, so there were some stories about so brave and so plucky Soviet polar explorers, triumphing over Mother Nature. But the rest? The rest was pure delight. Barents, wintering in the Arctic with his crew, Dr. Kane's expedition, Hudson, De Long and his Jeannette crushed by the merciless Ice, Fritdjof Nansen and Hjalmar Johansen attempting to get to the Northern Pole, captain Cagni of Italian 1899 Stela Polaris, doing DIY amputation of his thumb, Engineer Andre and his balloon, Amundsen and Nobile flying over the Pole in the airship Norge... aaaahhh. Not appropriate for ten years old, though still heavily sanitised, for example the eye inflammation that rendered lieutenant Danenhower of Jeannette (DeLong expedition) unfit for duty was said to be caused by the snow blindness, while in reality it was a sad complication of syphilis. Sanitized or not, appropriate or not, I loved these stories and my favourite play in winter was always The Polar Explorer, that means me, trodding on my crappy plastic skis on the fields around home, dragging my kiddie sledges and pretending I am Amundsen conquering the South Pole, or Nansen trying to reach the North one.

After that I've read voraciusly everything about polar exploration I could find. I went through the school library and other resources, learning about Franklin, Nansen, Amundsen, Exploration of Antarctic and two expeditions of Scott. Somehow, though, Titus did not catch my attention, he stayed somewhere on the margin (isn't that typical of him?) . To be honest he is a tad neglected by the polar autors, who do not know what exactly to do with him, so usually render him to this guy, you know, this silent dude who was taking care of the horses, then said, you know, This Badass Sentence and then went to die This Badass Death. Still, the frosty tales carried me through the chamber of hell called My Teenage Years.

For some time the polar stuff was at the fringe of my attention, because, you know, life happened, adulting was harder than I expected and so on. But then "The Terror" revived my love for brave, starving boys, freezing their lovely arses on both unhospitable ends of the Earth and I started sniffing again for the polar lit. And so I bought "Widows of the Ice" by Anne Fletcher which made me, by one quote in the chapter, I think, about Oriana Wilson, to go back to the man, who started it all. Titus Oates. Quiet, humble Captain Oates, who helped me to survive quite shitty period of my life and became my personal Comfort Polar Man. You might say I made a full circle.

there’s a certain descent into madness one takes after watching the terror. one minute you’re watching the show with mild interest and the next minute you’re hand painting Robert Scott’s sledging flag to put on your wall

[petalsonmoon]

breathe in, breathe through, breathe deep, breathe out.

you're falling in love.

(i'd just like to say that in this scenario i imagined UA as an university so they're a bit older... thank you for reading <3)

you had no one to blame but yourself. you read too much and you never know when to stop. but really, how can you go to sleep when the found family are about to perform the heist?

so when school was back things got complicated. your brain had its own routine by now so when you were laying in bed and the moonlight was trying to get in through the curtains it felt like you just drank 3 bottles of coffee.

your celling was making your mind combust this is why you got up and decided to take a little walk. you left your dorm and went for the stairs, feet light as the moonlight touching the walls. maybe you should buy a sleeping mask. or try meditation. new year new habits.

when you arrived at the communal space you were trying not to let the frustation win the fight against your empathetic consciousness. one side of your head was screaming that the begining of a school year should be centered, organized and fierced and an insomnia on your first day is not a great start. the other part was giving you a gentle pat on your head saying that life doesn't end when you graduate and you just have to take one day at a time.

you find yourself walking very slowly towards the kitchen and sitting on your usual stool. the third one from right to left. the whole place was beautifully iluminated by the moon. isn't sad that the moonlight is actually an reflection of the light that hits them? must be isolating.

there was a mini jar on the counter filled with m&m's. you slided it close to you and started to eat the yellow ones.

it was 5:28am acording to the microwave. m&m's were a great breakfast.

but the moon itself was pretty once iluminated by the others.... so it must feel pretty, right? seen? especially if it knows us, humans are captivated by its brutal and elegant greyness,

"the fuck is this?"

you jump. like cartoon jump.

and he didn't even scream he merely whipered. a rasp and crude whisper but a hushed tone nonetheless.

"holy jesus bakugo-" you whisper back with your hand on your chest trying calm it.

"what are you doing?" his interrupition as strong as he is.

"you scared the shit out of me." you complete. sort of ignoring his question.

he stayed still a few feet away burning you with his red eyes. his natural rage and powerful aura filling up the space.

"morning." you say. not in a good mood to smile but with enough chocolate in your system to sound gentle.

his eyes were on you for 5 seconds (5 minutes in your head) before he growled and moved, walking around the counter, turning one single light of the relatively big kitchen and started to get everything to prepare his healthy breakfast.

since first year, bakugo grew gracefully for those who noticed. although he changed he'd still murder you with an m&m if you said that out loud. you're definitely not that close to the boy but you were one of those who got enchanted by a determination so big and fierce someone could get blinded by it.

just like you were constantly astonished by momo's bright and calculated mind or todoroki's immense gentleness after a life that lacked warmness, you spent those 3 years seeing bakugo as an inspiration.

although his whole group of friends had a confidence you wished you had. they intimidated you. hagakure says it's you being stupid.

you watch as the boy moves fast and domestically calm through the gabinets, knowing exactly what he needs and wants.

with his large back facing you he started chopping and boiling and cooking. all the yellow m&m's had ended by the time one of you said a word.

"why are you up?"

raspy and soft. but you were not expecting him acknowledging you at all.

"hm..." your eyes focused on his back. "insomnia. vacation consequences."

you hear a distant grunt.

"so you came here to eat chocolate?" he kept preparing his dish in an annoyingly organized way.

"well, if my body is not feeling like being healthy might as well join his thinking."

"great thinking." he concludes and it's not even lacying with sarcasm. just full judgement.

it takes a few seconds for you to toughen up and keep talking.

"any tips?"

with that he turns and looks at you for a few seconds. you hold his gaze.

he only answers when he's back at glaring at the vegetables. "just fucking sleep."

it's so blunt it cracks a chuckle out of you. you betray yourself and take a single red m&m to your mouth.

"you ever slept in?"

"no." he rumbles.

"not even like, 5 minutes?"

"no."

"that's crazy..." you whisper to yourself.

"that's discipline." he defends not whispering back.

"yes, it absolutely is." you sounded silly but that was not the intention. "once me and tokoyami tried to make a schedule and wake up at 5 to train together"

it was fun trying to be healthy doing team work. you remember him telling you that dark shadow was also excited to practice outdoors since it was going to be dark still the time you agreed. "we only did it for a week."

you see him shake his head and murmur something you took 3 seconds to decode. "more than what i was expecting"

"okay!" you protest softly. "not all of us wants to be the best there is"

"and that means i can't judge you for being stupid?"

he blunts it out. as you said, bakugo was stil an angry, angry person but with patience and respect on the edges now. if you look closely.

"and some of us are not that competitive... like, really not. ever played uno with me?"

you hear him taking a deep breath. you don't know if that's an "yes" a "no" or a "i dare you to keep talking"

so you keep talking. "and i tried, doesn't that count?"

"it doesn't if you don't even do the bare damn minimum" his voice still raspy and very dure but the sleepiness not there anymore "not sleeping fries your brain." he resolutes.

"but this brain is also the reason i have anxiety so i'm just paying it back."

he finally turns to you with those immaculate sharp red eyes and points at you with the knife he was holding. "stupid."

"no, fairness." you smile and point a red m&m at him.

you held his gaze until he turned again. but then he finished part of whatever he was doing and drops the knife, washes his hands and turns to you again.

now you're getting goosebumps because he's walking towards you.

"you should've given me tips to sleep if you didn't want me annoying you at 5 in the morning" you defend yourself of something. you're really grateful for the courage the dawn gives people.

"is this gonna be a recurring thing?" he whisper. he stops in front of you, a counter between you both.

"don't know. it might be."

your hand was going to another red m&m when he stopped it. "stop eating this shit."

"then do you mind giving me cooking tips as well?"

his eyebrows furrows and he takes another deep breath letting go of your wrist. the counter was not that big. he was too close. "just focus on your breathing and it'll help you relax. even if you're not sleepy breathing techniques do help."

oh!

he did try to help you and that was sweet and you couldn't help but smile. "thank you."

he quickly turned around and went back to the stove grunting in response "don't need you yapping my ears off at the one time i have peace in this place."

with that you got up from the stool and went to your dorm feeling lightheaded.

── ☆ ──

after that there was no reason not to take deep breaths and count before sleeping. of course the problem was not fixed but it actually helped! there was some nights where your brain could not for his own health turn off the lights and it took you couting till 50 to relax but overall. you were sleeping at least 6 hours straight so a win is a win.

your relationship with bakugo evolved from not talking at all to you saying hi to him and him grunting in return. the universe decided to be kind to you by pairing you two a few times to spare during some of aizawa's classes and it was so unhealthy how you felt happy and annoyingly you with him.

so some nights you did had to trick yourself into not think about bakugo. to not think about how domestically warm and confortable it would be to cook with the boy if you were a little bit more than friends.

and then you blink three times remembering you were at best his colleague and you shouldn't be thinking this just because of an exchange of 30 minutes and a few swift but blazing conversations.

but it's a reasonable crush if we analyze the bigger picture.

you're not one with much confidence, and even though you're not one with many romantic experience too it's an understandable situation having a bloom of emotions when you finally have nice exchanges with the person you admire the most in class.

right?

four weeks later, saturday happened.

you've been doing good in training and even your studing sessons were making you proud so you decided to give yourself a deserving movie night.

things were great when you watched a movie and then another one but you decided you wanted a sweet popcorn to accompany you with the third one. and that went terribly wrong.

which is where you are now, looking at whatever annomaly you were swiping in the frying pan.

"of course you're involved with that god awful smell." he grunts from a few meters behind you and you're not sure how you didn't hit his head with how far you jolted.

"fucking hell bakugo!" you turn to him and it's noticible he’s trying to hold the little smirk in the corner of his mouth. don’t look that way. "how does an angry bird like you have such a light feet?"

"by not wanting to wake the losers" he concludes coming closer to you to discover what was happening at the crime scene.

oh! he smells good.

at 5am? criminal. cinnamon but with a touch of sandalwood. you truly wanted him to give you a prolonged hug.

"you are a fucking dimwit." he grimaced.

"i'm not great with new recipes!" you didn't have a single argument this time.

"ruin popcorn it's a new level." he walked towards the trash and opened. it's kind of a superpower that his expression alone could criticize so many aspects of a person.

you defeatedly walked to him with the pan in hands and threw its content in the trash.

"hopeless." he whispered as he took the object from you and walked to the sink.

you pout and make way to sit in your stool by the counter.

"i make a neat rice." you whisper back.

he immeditaly let out a chuckle. "i bet."

why were you still here was a question you'd burned with the imaginary popcorn. so it took you while to say anything,

"i remember in second year," really nice of them to keep replacing the m&m's in the jar. it was a good distraction look for the yellow ones. "when we were celebrating jiro's birthday and everybody was outside, i was going back inside to refil my water cup when i heard kaminari's voice desperately apologizing-"

a loud noice startled you. it sounded like a pot hitting the sink. you're not to make assumptions but it felt like he knew where you were going.

so you kept talking. "and suddendly you barked at him to shup up-"

"i didn't fucking bark-" he interrupted snarling. oh he was so sweet.

"-turns out he accidentally ruined a small part of her cake and you fixed it in record time. and didn't even eat it. i'm quite sure you went to bed after the happy birthday" you interrupted his interruption.

it was a quiet night so by the sounds you could identify that he started to do whatever he was doing a bit more angryly.

"cakes are stupid." he rumbles.

"they are important on birthdays."

"fucking dunce face can't keep his mouth shut-" him angrily replying with his back to you was a bit comical.

"in his defense" in the counter, you make a heart with the yellow m&m's you haven't eaten yet. "i traded this information giving him my piece of the cake that day."

you glace up and he was still treating the food with rage. "because surprisingly i'm not a big fan of cakes."

"weird coming from someone with the most crappy eating habits."

"i know, right?" you answer and he doesn’t respond. you fill the little heart with the red m&m's.

you take a deep breath.

"it was nice of you" you look up. "the number one spot is in safe hands."

he stilled. for about 7 seconds.

then he started to move again. calmly. you start to eat the yellow m&m's and after a while of him preparing his perfect little breakfast he speaks again.

"you being a sting in my ass since last year and telling me proudly." he says, his voice a bit more deep and cemented.

"yes, i like to think i'm a nice little bee." you admit.

"HA!" his rough laugh invaded the room.

"they're pretty and united and very important-"

"will you include the part they make honey and you can"t cook for shit?"

"it's a team work!" you defend. "don't you think that when a bee has problems with her honey, another one doesn't come to help?"

now you try to hold your laughter from your own statement.

"that's just pathetic." he answers.

"you're just not a bee." you resolve. you start to eat the red m&m's left. "you're more like a lone wasp. they're big and quite prett-"

your discourse is interrupted when a small bowl is strongly put in front of you spreading the red dots.

"hey!" you're about to protest when its contents finally loads in your brain.

it's popcorn.

with chocolate.

you feel the little bees in your stomach make a mess. a pure and chaotically comforting emotion fill your heart and there is no going back now. how can a furious boy make you breathe so peacefully?

when you finally come back to the moment and look up he immediately turns around and goes back to the stove.

"bakugo-"

"no." his tone heavy and definitive.

you take a deep breath and try to relax. not fighting the small smile in your face anymore.

"bakugo." your tone soft but as decisive as his.

he fights for a second but turns to you with a locked jaw. his eyes the sharpest you've ever seen, giving you nothing to unravel before going to sleep.

"thank you." and with that you leave the kitchen.

── ☆ ──

the following week you felt like suffocating but also very fucking joyful.

nothing prominent changes in your rotine. you're still dedicated to have a good sleeping pattern and things with you and bakugo haven't changed. and you weren't expecting them to.

but you needed saturday to come.

you were going to be there on purpose this time. and you were fiercily holding the ballon of insecurities screaming that you were too in clouds of your emotions to not think your decision carefully.

so it's 5:37 when you're getting closer to the kitchen, the familiar hiss and chopping of the food capturing the place making you shiver for some reason.

a well known reason but whatever.

you gently pull your usual stool to sit on it and your eyes lock to his figure, who froze for a millisecond when you made the sound.

your hand automatically made way to the mini jar that lived in the counter only to find nothing there.

you whip around to glare at him.

"who did you threatened to blow to get my m&m's removed?"

he took his time finishing whatever he was doing and turned to you very slowly. to have his attention on you once again sent intense shivers all over your body.

"why am i involved?" he soflty replies and you think you like his voice a little too much.

"you're always involved."

"always?"

"yep." you nod.

he leans his body back on the sink putting his hands on his pockets. boy, it's really fucking unffair to be heavenly beautiful like this.

you pout. "i just want my yellow m&m's back."

and then. and then

he measures your face before taking his right hand out of his pocked, setting a yellow m&m on his tongue and closing his mouth.

"come get it." he replies nonchantly.

your body suddenly feels solid and your blood it's cathing on fire. there is no way this scene wasn’t a creation of your most desired dream that was buried deep in your consciousness.

"well?" he arches one eyebrow and you blink. twice.

you decide in a millisecond to fight fire with fire. you're not a confident person but you could pretend to be.

you get off the stool and walk around the counter, only to sit on it placing yourself not far from him. you feel his eyes piercing you until yours met his.

"someone told me once i don’t even do the bare minimum…" you motioned to the empty space where the jar used to be “why would i go there if it can come to me?”

you hold his gaze while he took four steps to arrive and place himself between your legs.

he’s fixated on your mouth while you decide your favorite color is the color of his hair.

his slight smirk felt like an illusion when he breathes in your mouth “you little minx.”

then his mouth was against yours.

his hand found the back of your head making he deepen the kiss deliciously firme. a kiss as intense and imposing and skilled as the boy.

your hands made their way to his hair and it felt like a fervent dream when his own hands were now behind your thighs pulling you illogically close to him. his tongue ardent against yours making your whole body melt in his and when you scrap where his hair meets his neck his throat makes a guttural noise. you wanted to overflow in him.

when you pulled apart you’re a bit dizzy.

“you taste like chocolate.” you blur out.

placing his hands on your jaw he touches featherly your mouth with his tumb.

“why don’t you let me find out what you taste like, brat?”

[synthetickitsune]

To Save The World ✧ h.js

Pairing: Joshua Hong x gn!reader Genre: angst Summary: Joshua made his choice. Now he has to commit to it. The world must go on. And for that, he has to make you go. Word count: 1.6k Warnings: blood, knives, reader dies A/N: inspired by @chugging-antiseptic-dye's post here bcs you can't say "joshua slitting your throat" and expect me to be normal, and also it's highly recommended to read this as well

The night falls. The stars twinkle above, yet the light seems dimmed. The world must be asleep. Perhaps it might be as kind as to close its eyes to what he’s about to do. If there’s one thing the world’s always been good at, afterall, it’s turning away from those who need its help the most. There's a duty to them that he always carried on his shoulders. He’s always tried to make up for what the universe couldn’t do. Now that he’s in need of help, however, who will save him? 

He never thought that burden would eventually end up being his own demise.

Joshua’s breath comes out as thin clouds that soon evaporate into nothingness. Just the same as him. Every breath is a thought, a memory, a part of him. He wills them to be. He needs to send them all off, so that he can at least hope to be saved one day. He hopes the wind can carry all of him far enough that he won’t be tainted. 

He spent what felt like hours standing under scalding water. As if filth can be washed ahead of time. 

Anyway. 

Washed as best as he could make it and free of all scent, he feels naked. A blank sheet. Now all that’s left is to cleanse himself of himself. Not a man, but a hero. A fragile puppet dancing however fate and duty pull its strings. Empty. To be filled again with a different substance. Transformed. A copy of himself only on the outside.

The cold makes him feel frozen in time. If it doesn’t start ticking again soon, he will surely lose his mind. But perhaps that’s an option he’d gladly take. There is little chance of that happening soon enough, though. No, it’s not going to happen until it’s too late.

He hears lone footsteps slowly approaching. Bile rises up his throat. He closes his eyes and takes a couple of long, deep breaths. He tries to keep them even. To keep the tremors out of his breathing at least. He can’t be heard. He has to keep standing but his knees can barely support him. If only the darkness of the alley could swallow him. If only the wall behind his back could turn into goo. Trap him like an insect in tree sap. Keep him trapped in amber so that everyone could witness his cowardice that even outweighs the sin he’s about to commit.

‘Hero’ is a funny world. A joke.

In the end, he couldn’t save everyone. Forget everyone. Just one person.

The sound gets closer. Have you always walked with a skip in your step when you were rushing home to him? The bile again. His stomach twists. He has to force himself to swallow. The street remains empty. Everything else aside, Joshua can’t let anyone see his face ever again. He won’t ever look at his face again. His hands feel clammy. He can’t breathe. He can’t—

The knife almost slips from his hand. He only sees your side profile for a split second. He can’t double over. Not now. He’s already a coward hiding in the shadows. So it feels like a cruel joke, the sight that his eyes let him see. It’s like the clouds part and you’re suddenly bathed in moonlight. Are the stars taking you before he can? He only has fractions of a second to pray it is so. To hope his hands will pass right through you. That the moon saves you and cradles you in its cold silver arms.

It’s with practiced ease that he reaches from his hiding spot. It’s with hard-earned skill and speed that he grabs you and pulls you back into the shadows, away from the light that exposes his weakness. He ensnares you in the darkness with him before you can make a sound or register what’s happening.

With tender strength he holds you against his chest. His arm wraps around your waist perfectly, pinning your arms to your sides. It should be like this. You belong with him. He should always hold you. What does heaven have that lying with you, your head above his heart and his arms around you doesn’t provide? Your body fits against his like you were made for him. And lately he believes you were, just to make your fate that much crueler. To start his punishment long before he knew he’s going to be punished.

You can’t make a sound with his hand covering your mouth. He wishes you could. Blame him. Hate him. (Love him.) Your struggling is useless. He’s always been stronger than you. Could always easily pin you down. Why can’t you pout about it now? (Please hit his chest. Please call him mean. Please laugh and pull him down for a kiss.)

Your efforts double when the glint of the blade catches your eye. He has already messed up. He shouldn’t have held you one last time. It comes so naturally to him, though. Instincts can’t be overridden. He had to. He tries to make his voice deeper, unrecognizable. To his own ears he doesn’t sound like himself when he shushes you. You sound every bit like yourself when you whimper. (Can’t he hold you tighter? Can’t he pull the blanket over you like he’s always done and shield you from the rest of the world?)

In his memories, it’s always your hair, your cheeks that he caresses. Your lip under his thumb. As he moves his hand lower though, he discovers that the skin on the vulnerable column of your throat is surprisingly soft too. (Did he not explore your body enough? Will this be one more regret to haunt him day and night?) Your breathing, your heartbeat, he can feel it all with his touch. It’s so fast. Like the little bunny’s that you promised to adopt with him. The one you won’t make a half-orphan because you never brought it home. Your eyes look like prey animal’s caught in a trap too.

His thumb strokes over your windpipe. You deserve that. You deserve something more intimate. You deserve something warmer than the cold steel of the knife. You deserve him. Not a stranger.

But he can’t. He’s a coward. His strength isn’t as tender now. It’s desperate. He doesn’t want to let go. You don’t make a sound.

(Please whine. Please tell him to let go. Please call him clingy. Please tell him to let you hug him too.)

His hand stops before it can dip under your shirt. His fingertips barely brush against your collarbone. How selfish he can be. You must be so scared - a stranger holding you, a stranger touching you. Joshua knows if it was him you saw holding a knife so close to your face, you wouldn’t be scared at all. 

(Smile at him. See him.)

As if sensing his hesitation, you move. Just one lone, weak attempt to break free. Just a jolt of an animal that doesn’t wish to be pet.

He leans his head against yours. (Hurt him. Do it. Please.) You stay still. For a blink of an eye that lasts an eternity, you settle and relax. Like he’s holding you while you cook dinner. Like he’s comforting you after a long day. Like you’re watching the storm outside from the warmth of your home. Like he’s saying goodbye.

Like you know what’s coming.

It’s with an order, an impulse to his nerves that doesn’t, that can’t have, come from his own brain and free will that the knife in his sweaty palm turns. Your breathing picks up more. The blade presses against the side of your throat and he—

Joshua!

The shriek pierces the silence of the night.

It rains. Crimson splatters on the ground.

But all he hears is your voice.

Did you recognize him and called his name in shock? Betrayal? Understanding?

Were you calling him for help?

Did you want his name to be your last word?

The knife clatters on the ground with echoes of his name, of your voice. Nothing else is real.

His hand clutches your throat and presses against it with force. He’s trying to pull the split tissue together but it won’t listen and the blood keeps pouring.

The warmth encompassing his hands must be your hands grabbing his. Slipping your fingers between his.

You’re just standing in the shower. It’s hot water rolling down your bodies. You’ll laugh. You’ll scold him for simply holding you instead of washing up.

What’s the point if his hands are forever dyed red.

No shower will ever be enough.

And your life keeps trickling down his fingers and pooling under his feet.

He collapses with you.

His head falls, forehead resting against yours.

(Look at him.)

He holds you like you’re dancing. Your silly wish to look at him after he twirls you. To lean back into his arms and look up at him.

So look at him. 

There’s nothing interesting to see at the back of your skull.

He sobs, but he only hears your voice. Only feels the claws of guilt and pain tearing at his throat from the inside.

Did you know? Could you tell he held you? Did you know you’re not alone? That you don’t have to be scared? 

Look at him. 

Tell him.

The world did not end with a bang. Nor with a whimper. The world did not end at all that night.

But there, in a dark alley where blood pools on the cobblestone, a life and a soul were crushed to save it. 

[fanficsbysteve]

Authors Note: So I was scrolling the Tumblrs a few days ago when @lazyturtlehottub put an idea out there that stuck with me a bit so I did my best to get something out there into the world. Hopefully its good. Let me know what you think.

Rating: G?

Word Count: 3033

***

                Buck sat in his seat at the LA Lakers game that Tommy had given him tickets to. Tommy had ended things a week before the tickets were for so naturally Buck was at the game alone. He had planned to go with Tommy, so he had someone who actually understood basketball with him. He had requested the day off work so he could go and Bobby had given it to him. Unfortunately nobody else could get the day off so Buck sat in his seat, an empty seat right next to him.

                Out of depression, and he had run out of flour to bake something to distract him, Buck had made a sign that sat folded nicely on the seat next to him. If any kind of camera came on him, he was going to be petty and reveal the sign. And he had every right to be petty after what happened. It was so out of the blue. So Buck sat in his seat and just waited. He barely watched the game cause he didn’t have any interest in Basketball. He had never told Tommy this during their 6 months together. Why would he? He had literally tried desperately to get into this pick-up game that Eddie, Tommy, Chim, and a few others played so that he could get close to Tommy. Sure he hadn’t gone again since that one time. He had gotten Tommy’s attention. Plus I think after maiming Eddie, nobody expected him to go again. So he never had to explain how he really didn’t like Basketball.

                The game slowly went along. One team having the ball, then the other one did, then they threw it in a hoop, rinse, repeat. Buck honestly never understood why anyone would actually care about this sport. It was so boring. Give him a hockey game. Now that was something to watch. Particularly when the gloves came off.

                Slowly the game kept going and Buck was worried that he wouldn’t get a chance at the pettiness he had planned for the game. Then the break in the middle of the game came. Sighing, Buck was bored and was pretty sure that nothing was going to happen when something called a Kiss Cam came up on the video screen in the middle. It started panning around to all the various seats, stopping on what would appear to be couples and they would kiss or make ‘no’ motions if they weren’t together. Then it happened. The camera came and stopped on Buck and the person sitting next to him. The person looked at Buck and started making the No motions.

                Buck took this opportunity, like the petty individual he was turning into, and pulled out his homemade sign. It was on bright yellow paper with black letters. The sign read, “My Boyfriend broke up with me a week before this game so now I’m here alone, and I don’t really like Basketball that much.”

                A chorus of Boo’s started to ring out around the Arena. Not sure if it was because of the sign or because of him, but Buck didn’t care. He got his pettiness out. Folding up the sign he sat back down.

Then it started. His phone started to buzz but he was going to ignore it.  He was at a basketball game and even if he wasn’t having fun or enjoying it, he wasn’t going to be one of those people who spend the whole thing on their phone. The buzzing would not stop. This was going to get annoying. The game hadn’t started back up again so Buck excused himself past the people sitting between himself and the aisle out. He better get this phone stuff dealt with. Might as well just go home if he wasn’t enjoying himself.

He got into the lobby area and pulled his phone out. He was getting bombarded with text messages from Eddie, Hen, Chim, Maddie, basically everyone at the Firehouse. Apparently they had been watching the game during their off time and it just to happens that nothing was going on when he was on camera. So everyone saw it. There were also messages and calls from Tommy but Buck was ignoring those right now. He couldn’t be bothered to message him before so he was going to make him wait.

He started with the Maddie messages. She was his sister after all.

MH: What did you just do? On National Television?

EB: I don’t know what you mean. I just held up a sign.

MH: You just threw Tommy to the wolves.

EB: Nobody who watches this will know who is being talked about. And anyone who does will not care enough to know.

MH: Don’t count on it. You weren’t super secretive about your relationship so lots of people know.

EB: Well we will just have to wait and see won’t we.

Closing down the text thread with Maddie, he went to Eddie, the next most important person in his life right now. It would have been Tommy but that ship sailed a week ago.

ED: That was brave.

BB: I was out of flour. And I was hurting so I decided to channel it.

ED: I wouldn’t want to be Tommy right now.

BB: Why not?”

Eddie sent over a screenshot of what looked like X or another social media site. Buck wasn’t super big on them. It showed a trending tag #LonelyLakersLad and #LakersBFBreakup and several other variants. Some of them had a lot of traction.

ED: You are going viral.

BB: Nobody who knows me would do anything like that.

ED: So you are telling me that you are 100% certain that you never hurt anyone the way you were hurt.

BB: I’ve broken up with everyone amicably as far as I am aware.

ED: And you’ve never kept in touch to see how they are feeling after things?

Buck stopped to think for a second. As far as he was aware he was fine with all his ex-girlfriends. They weren’t in touch anymore, friendship falling off the wayside, but honestly why would they do anything?

ED: Just saying. You might want to contact the recipient of your pettiness. He has been blowing up our phones here.

Buck sighed. Closed the Eddie chat and opened the one labeled Thomas. He hadn’t wanted to keep it the same as it was before the breakup. It hurt too much.

There it was, a lengthy string of texts from Tommy. Words weren’t the greatest thing you could convey emotion through. It was always up to the person reading to get the emotion you were putting into it and more times than not, it was always conveyed wrong.

TK: What the hell was that?

TK: I told you to take Eddie with you to that.

TK: And what do you mean you don’t even like Basketball? You literally forced your way into a game with me and Eddie and Chim.

TK: I know I hurt you. But that was next level pettiness.

TK: We need to talk.

TK: Please answer your phone.

TK: I’ve tried calling you a dozen times. Please just answer.

Buck knew that Tommy had called at least that many times during while he was just messaging his family and friends.

TK: I’m not mad. I swear it. I just want to talk. With words from my mouth instead of my fingers. That way its not misinterpreted.

TK: Please just answer and let me talk to you. Then I won’t bother you ever again.

Buck tapped the name Thomas, pulling up his contact details, and tapped the Call button. At least he could get this over with quickly. Maybe Trader Joes was still open so he could get more baking supplies on his way.

The phone didn’t even get to finish a single ring before Tommy answered, “Evan!”

“You said you wanted to talk Thomas,” Buck replied. He couldn’t stop the smile that came over his face when he heard Tommy call him Evan though. He also knew that Tommy was wincing on the other end at the Thomas.

“What was that all about? I was watching the game at home and I remember saying you could take Eddie and why were you there alone? And what was that sign for?” Tommy rambled. Buck just let him ramble a bunch. A thousand more questions came out of his mouth through the phone.

“If you would let me get a word in I can easily explain everything,” Buck interrupted. Tommy stopped talking for the time being so Buck took that as his time to get his side of things out, “You had just broken my heart. I was feeling petty because I had nothing else to distract me from calling or messaging you. I had spent too many days crying over you so I went to the next extreme. It was probably a little overboard but I was feeling my emotions and channeling them into something different. I didn’t want to turn back into the Buck that slept around to deal with his hurt.”

“I’m sorry,” Tommy said, “God this isn’t great on the phone.”

“Well you were the one who wanted me to call you,” Buck replied, “I was perfectly happy just texting.”

“Were you though?” Tommy’s voice was getting a little catty at this point, “I don’t think perfectly happy people do the stunt you just pulled.”

“Well I WAS perfectly happy,” Buck was just as catty in return, “Until you ended things out of the blue, no real reason except some bullshit about not being your last.”

Buck could feel the guilt through the phone at this point, “Meet  me at Fleur Café. That’s close to the arena. We clearly have to talk in person.”

“Fine by me,” Buck replied. His heart started to flutter a bit cause he did want to see Tommy again, “I know you don’t live near here so I’ll get you a coffee for when you arrive.”

“I’ll be there in about 45 minutes,” Tommy replied, his voice was shaking a bit, “depending on traffic.”

Buck let Tommy end the call and then he quickly pulled up the map on his phone to get there.

***

Buck had gotten to the café after 10 minutes of walking so he waited outside for about 20 minutes. He was mildly curious about the X trend that was happening so he downloaded the X app and signed into the account he made about a decade earlier. “@ranchmanbuck” was the username he had created. He was living in Montana at the time and working on a ranch. It didn’t last long. He also only had maybe 3 posts on his account.

It took him a bit to get signed in but eventually he did and #LonelyLakersLad was still trending. Even the official account of the LA Lakers had posted about it. Seems that everyone online was either trying to find out who he was, telling him that they would date him, telling him that it will get better in the end. There was a few that were insane and threatening harm on the person who hurt him. Seeing threats of death towards Tommy by people who didn’t know him was disturbing so Buck closed that app and swore to never open it again. People online were insane.

Stepping into the café, Buck was greeted by the smell of fresh coffee and baked goods. He had grown to love the smell of baked goods since Tommy broke things off with him. It was soothing and calming. He smelled lemon loaf, and cinnamon rolls, and some savoury cheese buns. He just breathed in and then head to the counter to order, “Good evening,” Buck was always courteous to the staff anywhere, “Can I get two coffees, one black, and one two cream, one sweetener,” He looked at the baked goods. He had so much at home but he wanted something sweet right now, “And two pieces of that lemon loaf, and a cinnamon roll.”

Buck paid for his purchases and went to a table near the window to wait. He started to slowly pick apart the lemon loaf he had gotten for himself and slowly ate it, sipping on his coffee at the same time. After about 10 minutes of waiting, Tommy walked into the coffee shop. He looked around and spotted Buck. He quickly came over and sat down, “Hey,” He said.

“I got you a coffee,” Buck pushed the coffee his way, “And some lemon loaf.”

“Thanks,” Tommy took the coffee and took a sip, “You finally figured out how I like my coffee.”

“We were together for 6 months Tommy,” Buck replied, “If I didn’t at least learn your coffee order then I would have been the worst boyfriend ever.”

“OK so we need to talk,” Tommy replied, “But first I just want to let you know how sorry I am for how things went down.”

“Why did you not come back after?” Buck asked, “You just left me there. I figured maybe it was a fight that we could work through but you didn’t come back.”

“I was scared,” Tommy had his head down, “You idealized me. You didn’t see me or the things that were wrong with me. Just the good. You don’t know how it was growing up and just being abandoned by the one person who loved me, leaving me with my father. Or the first man I ever fell in love with leaving me because he decided someone else was better than me.”

“You never told me any of this,” Buck replied, “You kept your walls up and never fully let me in. I only know what you showed me. And,” Buck trailed off. Well he had him in front of him so it was now or never, “And what you showed me made me fall in love with you.”

Buck watched as Tommy’s face snapped up at those words. Buck had been meaning to say those words to him for awhile now. Since the day at the cemetery at least when him and Tommy had a funeral so that Billy Boils would lift the curse. And he did. But just having Tommy there with him made him realize that Tommy was all he needed in life from now on, “You never said that,” Tommy said.

“I mean it though,” Buck replied, “I might be brand new to this whole loving men thing. But I know what love feels like and I know what I feel for you. I realize that I may have jumped ahead a couple steps. Eddie tells me I’m an idiot all the time. And maybe I am. But I’m an idiot that loves you, Tommy.”

Tommy fiddled with his cup, “I’m just scared that you will get bored of me and leave me like everyone else.”

Buck reached across and grabbed Tommy’s hand, “I need you to learn to trust me. I won’t leave you. You are everything I’ve felt I was missing in my life. From the very first mouth static, something about you made me feel complete. And this past week has made me feel worse, like a part of me was missing. And I don’t like how that feels and I don’t want to feel it anymore.”

Tommy looked ashamed, “I love you as well. And there has been an Evan sized hole in my life that I cannot manage to fill,” Buck watched as Tommy looked up, his face setting, “Fuck it. If my heart gets broken, it gets broken,” He whispered to himself, “Evan Buckley, I know I don’t deserve it after what I did to you, but would you be willing to give me a second chance? I’m also an idiot who is in love with you and I might not deserve it but please?” Tommy’s eyes bore into Buck with intensity. This man meant every word of it.

Buck stood up, grabbed Tommy’s face and brought him into a kiss. The kiss lasted longer than either had planned but Buck was not letting go. He wasn’t certain of it but he thought he may have heard the shutter of a camera on someone’s phone. Maybe someone taking some pictures of their food. They did that a lot. As the kiss came to an end, a single thread of saliva between them, Buck sat down again, “We need to communicate better,” Buck said, “Since we want to try again, I ask that if you have problems, or if I’m jumping ahead or saying something idiotic, that you please just talk to me. We can work through these problems.”

“I can’t promise I won’t get scared again,” Tommy said, “I’ve got more trauma than you can possibly imagine. I’m not the ideal gay that you seem to have thought I am. But I can promise that if things get bad for me, I’ll do everything I can to talk.”

Buck smiled, “That’s all I want. I want to know all of you. Scars and all if you’ll let me,” Buck smiled, “Now help me eat this Cinnamon bun.”

***

6 months later, Buck sat with Tommy at another Lakers game. A repeat of the 6 month anniversary. Tommy had originally wanted to do something that Buck would enjoy, but Buck shut that down, “I enjoy being with you and seeing you happy and if it means going to Basketball games then I want to go. Just means in the winter you’ll have to get better at enjoy the LA Kings games.”

“Deal,” Tommy said. So they were in their seats at the arena. It was halftime as Tommy called it. The camera was panning around the stands looking for couples to make kiss. When it landed on Buck and Tommy. Smiling, Buck pulled Tommy into a kiss, as the kiss broke, he held up another sign just for this occasion, ‘We worked things out, so please don’t make me go viral again. #NotSoLonelyLakersLad’.  Buck smiled and kept staring at Tommy. The crowd was cheering in the arena for them. Just staring into the eyes of the man he loved.

***

Authors Note: Well that's it. I hope anyone who reads this likes it. Feel free to suggest any titles as I have no idea what to call this. If you have any notes for how I could improve, please be kind about it.

[aplaceinme]

For @tommygiving

Tommy parks his truck and turns the engine off. He has been smiling since he woke up this morning, knowing that he is going to spend the entire day with Evan. 

Before getting out of the car, he looks in the rearview mirror and fixes his hair. Evan likes to pull on his curls so Tommy has gotten to wear it a bit longer than he normally would. Once he is satisfied with the way he looks, he turns and just as he is about to open the door, he sees Evan exiting his building and bouncing towards him.

As always, Evan looks amazing, he is wearing a blue sweater that makes his eyes pop, and some black jeans that accentuate his big and strong thighs perfectly. He also seems to be in a hurry, since in no time at all he is opening the passenger side door. 

“Good morning, gorgeous!” Evan greets him, leaning over and giving him a way too short for Tommy’s liking kiss.  

“Good morning, love!” Tommy replies. “I was about to go up… I always go up. Are you that excited to go to the supermarket?” 

“Yeah, I’m really excited! I even have my clipboard, see?” Evan says, waving the clipboard for emphasis. 

Tommy chuckles. “I can see that. Ok then, let’s go!” 

—

“Are you sure you are ok?” Tommy asks for the second time. 

“What? Yes, I’m ok… why? Don’t I look alright?” Evan asks in a slightly hysterical way. “I’m alright!”

Tommy raises one eyebrow in disbelief. “Evan, you have been all fidgety and acting all nervous since… since you got in the truck, actually. What’s going on?” 

“Nothing, I’m fine,” Evan says, not so convincingly. 

“Evan,” Tommy sighs. “Look, you do know that I don’t care about the food or the decorations or anything like that, right? You don’t need to put too much pressure on yourself to try to host the perfect Thanksgiving… it will be perfect no matter what because we are going to be spending it together. And that’s all I want.” 

Evan’s posture relaxes minimally, his eyes go as soft as the smile tugging at his lips. “You’re right, it will be perfect because we will be together.” 

They share a sweet but short kiss, both aware that they are in the middle of a supermarket with lots of people desperately buying all kinds of stuff for Thanksgiving. 

“Should we see if we are lucky enough to find a turkey?” Tommy asks as he intertwines their fingers and starts to move across the aisle. 

“Turkey?” Evan yelps. 

Tommy stops walking and turns to look at him in surprise and confusion. “Yes? I mean… Aren’t we having turkey?” 

Evan ducks his head, rubs at the back of his neck, and starts to drag the tip of his shoes along the ground. 

“Evan?” 

“Well… I was thinking that maybe… just maybe! We could go vegan this time?” Evan asks sheepishly.

“Oh! Uhhh, yeah, sure, ok. We can do that if that’s what you want.”

“Yeah? Awesome! Thank you,” Evan says, beaming. 

If Tommy hadn’t been blinded by Evan’s beautiful smile, and by the way it made his eyes sparkle, he would have noticed that in his enthusiasm Evan had started to walk backwards, right into a display of canned cranberry sauce. As it is, Tommy is too late to fully stop him. He grabs him by the arm and tries to pull him away but by then Evan has already lost his balance and he ends up falling over the cans and pulling Tommy along. 

“Oh my god!” Evan mumbles, on the floor and covered in cranberry sauce. “Ouch.”

In the same position as him, Tommy nods, agreeing, “Yeah… ouch.” 

“Are you guys ok?” One of the supermarket workers asks them, looking down at them. 

“Peachy,” Tommy mutters.

“I’m so, so sorry! I can’t believe I did this! It was a mistake… I’m so clumsy sometimes,” Evan says apologetically while sitting down slowly. 

“It’s ok. It happens, not that often, but it happens,” Susan, as her name tag reads, says. “Are any of you hurt?”

“No, just embarrassed,” Evan replies. 

“Tomorrow… that’s when we will be feeling it,” Tommy groans, standing up and giving a hand to Evan. 

“Should we clean it up?” Evan asks hesitantly. 

“No, no, that won’t be necessary,” Susan reassures him. “The facilities are near the bakery section, by the way.” 

They thank Susan and go to the bathroom to wash a little bit of the sauce. 

“This is not going well,” Evan complains. 

“Don’t worry about it… think about it this way, it will be a funny story to tell everyone,” Tommy says, helping Evan with cleaning his lovely curls. 

“No one will know about this, Tommy. No one!” 

Tommy laughs and kisses him on the cheek. “Alright, my lips are sealed. Should we continue with the shopping?”

“Ugh, yes! We don’t really have any other choice,” Evan says, pouting. 

—

Evan starts to get fidgety again once they are back in the truck and driving to his loft. 

“Hey! We’ve got all the ingredients you need, right? It will be great, I know it,” Tommy tries to reassure him, his hand reaching over from the steering wheel and grabbing one of Evan's hands. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Evan gives him a barely there smile that is not fooling anybody. 

The nervousness and fidgeting get worse as they approach Evan’s door. He even takes his time opening it, doing it as slowly as possible. As soon as he opens it, though, he pulls Tommy inside and quickly closes and locks the door. 

Completely bewildered by the action, Tommy puts the groceries down. “Evan, what is go- what the hell is that?” 

There, by the loft window, is a cage. A cage with a turkey in it. A very much alive turkey. 

“It’s a turkey,” Evan replies too casually. 

“A tur- a turk… why do you have a turkey?” Tommy asks him, beyond confused. He even pinches his arm, trying to see if he is having a weird dream. Or maybe he got concussed when they fell in the supermarket. 

“So, funny story,” Evan starts. “You see, yesterday, we had a call to this place and this dude had an illegal turkey.” 

Tommy blinks once, twice, but he remains confused. “Ok? That doesn’t explain the turkey in your loft though.” 

“Right… the thing is that the dude was trying to get him to fight, sort of like cockfighting, you know? So, he is quite aggressive.”

“How aggressive?” Tommy asks, taking a step back.

He is suddenly having flashbacks of when they had responded to that call with Maurice… he shivers all over. 

“Quite a lot, unfortunately. That’s why I begged Bobby to let me take him to one of the farm sanctuaries or a center where they rehabilitate animals,” Evan tells him with a bright smile. 

Tommy doesn’t know where to start. “And Bobby just said yes?”

“Well, I had to be really convincing, say that I was afraid that Alex here would end up getting killed, and I might have also said that I was going to take him to a farm yesterday,” Evan says, blushing but shrugging his shoulders. “But I was too tired and today I already had plans with you… so I will take him tomorrow.”

“Ok, so you aren’t actually planning to keep him, then?” Tommy asks, extremely relieved, and ignoring the fact that of course already named the turkey. 

Evan opens his mouth but gets interrupted by Alex gobbling, startling them both.

“Jesus, that’s loud,” Tommy says, resisting the urge to cover his ears. 

“He is, which is why I was hoping that we could keep him in your house? I’m not allowed to have pets here,” Evan asks, looking adorable, peering at him through his eyelashes. 

Sighing in resignation, Tommy nods. One day he will be able to say no to Evan, but today is not that day. 

[doonalli]

The Dummies, Midori, The Banquet, and what it truly means to "be human"

And here we are at the finale. if you haven't seen my previous analyses on the Dummies I recommend you read them before reading this one since i am going in assuming you have. But if not here they are in order; Why Anzu is Important Hayasaka and how humans change Kurumada and trust in your allies Ranmaru: Doubts in Humanity, and Humanity in Doubts Mai and Humanity in Autonomy Hinako; Humanity in Affection and Connection

With that said, let's start talking about the Banquet, Midori and what that says about the dummies' humanity.

At first the Banquet seems like a strange choice for the finale of the chapter, after all, we just went through a whole chapter about proving the humanity of the dummies, yet here they are all killed of one after the other here for the sake of Gin, a human. It comes off as a bit jarring, even seeming like YTTD is going back on its message a bit.

But I’m here to argue that isn’t the case, that the Banquet not only doesn’t conflict with the messaging of the chapter and the game as a whole, but instead works to push it even further to culminate in a perfect ending.

And to start with that, let's talk about one of the key players in the banquet, Midori. In a way Midori is everything it means to not be human, and he himself revels in this inhumanity. Midori has thrown away his own humanity, and this is shown to us in so many different ways, but the main one is the way he treats his own body.

What's particularly interesting about Midori is how unclear the line between what's real and what's fake is when it comes to him, from his relationships with the participants during their pasts, to the constant lies and half truths the tells over the chapter, to his death itself, it's hard to get a grasp on the reality of the situation when it comes to him.

And this of course extends to Midori himself, as he is presented as a mystery ever since Alice told Keiji about his murder, and in the way we don’t quite know if he is human or not until the banquet itself, and even then we don’t know exactly how much of his body is human.

During the Banquet Midori reveals that he has slowly been replacing parts of his body with doll parts, 

And to Midori this is equal to no longer being human, this mentality can only be achieved if you equate humanity to what you physically are, and it's through this that Midori acts as the opposite of what the dummies all stand for,

Where the dummies stand for Humanity not being tied to the physical truth, Midori stands for the opposite notion, that the physical truth stands above all. In his eyes humanity is a weakness, and we see that in how he treats them and the traits that prove humanity.

And so Midori tries to escape it, to escape his own humanity, no need for allies or connections or doubts or fears, all those "human" traits when you can just stand above it all, as some unstoppable force.

Midori is the perfect example of this because he constantly rubs it in your face just how inhuman he is, he does so when he starts spinning his head and when he rocket punches Yabusame and literally asks

And he furthers this mentality with his actions too, because Midori is denying his own humanity, he denies his fear of death, he constantly berates and betrays his allies like Maple or Hinako, he denies others of their choices and autonomy, laughing at their despair and refusing to connect, and even his “affection” for Sou is a twisted, messed up version of what affection is. All of it to dehumanise himself and others.

It's honestly hard to call Midori human after it all, and that's just what Midori wants. That's why Maple’s last act of defiance near the end of the chapter was so important, because it shows us and to Midori that that's all it is, a facade.

Just one small moment where Midori wasn’t in control and that's all it took to show us that he isn’t invincible, and with that the image of a fearless unstoppable force is shattered, and it shows us that he isn’t as above humanity as he thinks he is.

It's important that this happens here because it allows the cast to fight back during the next section, both himself and his ideals.

Midori’s mentality of humanity being defined by what you physically are goes head to head with the Dummies in the banquet, and that's what it's about, it's a battle between Midori, and the Dummies, who are trying to prove their own humanity, with all the ups and downs that come with it.

The banquet itself plays into this too, the hint system draws a straight, clear cut answer on who is a doll and who is a human, using exclusively what they are physically.

And the cast isn’t exempt from doing this too, with many of the first discussions being centred around “who is human?”, whether it be figuring out what the lights mean, questioning whether Midori himself is human, or questioning who among the Dummies is a human.

And it's only when Mai’s hands are revealed to be Midori’s human hands, that the lines start to blur. 

Does Mai having human hands make her "more human"? What if they aren't even hers? Plenty of people use body parts from others in real life too right? It gets you thinking about the line between human and doll and just how fragile and unclear it can be.

And sure we designate Midori as the human here, but later we find out we were wrong, because trying to designate a human through physical traits is wrong. But before that…

After picking a coffin and killing either Hayasaka or Kurumada the next hint reveals a human, Sara tells Midori that he must be afraid as hypothetically there is a 50% chance he dies, but Midori denies he is afraid of dying and picks the coffin anyways, revealing it to be Hinako

This just blurs the lines even more, since up to this point we thought all the dummies were dolls, yet a human was able to sneak in there entirely undetected. Can you really say they're that different if you didn't even realise it at first?

And importantly, as we discuss who Hinako really was, we confirm her humanity, but not through any physical traits like many people tried to do during the banquet, but through a painting and the connection between Alice and the real Hinako.

During the next section we figure out the truth about Midori, and about how he has more doll parts than human, spinning his head all the way around to prove it. Obviously this isn’t something that any human could do, but more importantly it shows us Midori’s inhumanity in an undeniable way, it's so flashy, bold and in your face, that you’d be hard pressed to call him human.

When Sara then stands firm and states that this proves Midori is a doll and Gin is a human she is agreeing to the line that Midori drew and separates Humans and Dolls even further. This goes as far as to picking a red coffin, picking a doll, just to keep Gin the human safe, Midori even calls Sara out on it if she is really alright with picking one of the dummies, and notably Sara’s internal monologue doesn’t question that fact, but instead wondering why Midori is so confident, and why he doesn’t seem to be scared.

Sara is being pushed even further into believing Midori isn’t really human anymore at this point, Questioning if their logic was even correct. Until…

The surviving dummies inspire Sara through their words, and with that, prove their own humanities in their own separate ways, showing Sara and the player that their lives have purpose, have value, and that they are truly human.

On the surface it seems like Sara is simply making a choice to sacrifice the dolls for the sake of a human, and the tragedy of that is the fact these scenes show the truest form of their humanity. There is a reason these scenes are such a focal point in my analysis of each of those characters (Mai, Kurumada, and Hayasaka) and it's because it shows that they are able to make their own choices, for the sake of their allies, despite their contradictory emotions, and that's something that's inherently human. 

We see this when characters like Mishima, Kai, and Kanna all do something similar, and it all just works to prove that fact the dummies aren’t separate from the humans.

So why does this happen? Well to me it shows that despite their efforts, Sara still couldn’t shake her bias, playing right into what the Banquet and Midori want, by dehumanising the dummies.

But it isn’t over and the dummies still have a chance to show their humanity.

Tragically, Sara misses, not knowing at this point that Midori isn’t even in one of the glowing coffins, and Midori now has a free shot that's basically guaranteed to hit Gin, but Midori gives her a chance to talk to Gin, and that confidence ends up being his undoing.

While talking to Gin he mentions Keiji, reminding Sara of her wish she got from signing the consent form. She demands Midori to change it, and after some arguing, he does. Only he picks the #2 coffin, killing Anzu, and it's here where we reach our lowest point, where Sara herself admits that she undeniably sacrificed a doll for the sake of a human.

However it's always darkest before the dawn, and that's true here too, this is the Dummies’ last chance to prove themselves, and they won’t go down without a fight.

Through a discussion the cast figures out that Hinako swapped coffins with Midori before the banquet even began, meaning he is actually in a non-glowing coffin, and through this they are given an actual chance to fight back, because, as Sara rightfully called out, this proves Midori is afraid of death.

Despite his claims otherwise, Midori is scared of death, and because of that he swapped coffins with Hinako out of a fear he’d die outwise.

Midori claims that this doesn’t matter though as no matter what all 3 of the non glowing coffins have dolls inside, meaning the hit will be red no matter what. 

Regardless Sara presses the hint and it ends up blue, meaning that there is a human inside, much to everyone’s surprise.

The fact that Midori believed so strongly that the coffins would end up red only for it to be blue just blurs the lines between these two options even more. The fact that the contents in this coffin are unknown is just the first step in this counterattack.

Before that however, Ranmaru’s coffin is picked, sending Sara to give up, but Q-taro tells her that it's not what she thinks, as Midori is revealed to be struggling with his next choice.

This goes into the war of words against Midori, and the thing about this one is that compared to the other war of words our goal here is to confuse Midori as much as possible. First we refute his claim that Keiji isn’t in the coffin, despite it being blue. Then when he brings up the victim videos we tell him that the Hinako in the video isn’t even the Hinako of the dummies. He reasons out Maple must have told Keiji about the Banquet, and reveals that the coffins designate between human and doll through the collars, as both dolls and humans would be ashes after being cremated.

All these contradictions are designed to blur the lines between red and blue, real and fake, human and doll.

The way Midori doubts a human is in the blue coffin, or the way we bring up how not all the dummies are dolls of people who died, or how he admits that the coffins don’t even tell the content apart by physical traits but instead by the collar put on them.

And by the end we’ve blurred the lines so much that Midori thinks the coffin contains his collar, despite his own claim that he himself would be counted as a doll. All due to Q-taro's trick.

As if Hinako being a Human among the dolls wasn't enough, there has been a doll among the humans the whole time, and no one could tell, not even Midori, who dies before he ever learns the truth.

The fact that a doll of someone could so easily fit in just shows how vague the lines really are. We see just how much a doll can seem like a human, how they can feel and learn and grow like any human, how they laugh and cry and shout like any human. And at that point... was there ever really even a line at all? And this all culminates in the final act of the Banquet, Midori and Sara’s last choices. Midori is now doubting himself,

struggling between the 2 options he has to target, struggling with his conflicting feelings,

 and Sara thinks to herself that Midori has no allies to rely on now,

because he denied that connection, and killed them all himself.

She tells him to choose, to make his own choices now,

and he does, he picks the non glowing coffin… Missing Gin and ultimately dooming himself.

Sara ends up making her choice, choosing Midori’s coffin, and as the drill goes through Midori, he realises just how scared of death he is, but it's too late for him.

We prove his mentality of humanity being decided by physical traits is wrong in this moment, because here, in his final moments, Midori is undeniably human, and even he can’t run away from that.

"I'm a human. Which is why I don't wanna die..."

Unlike somebody such as Rio, who also spent his last moments as a human, Midori doesn’t deserve any sympathy, because he did that to himself. Just like how he denied that connection to his allies like Hinako, and killed them, Midori essentially killed his humanity, or at least tried to, so when he’s backed into a corner he doesn’t get to rely on his allies, and while we’ve proven that his mentality of humanity isn’t right, Midori himself he only realises this right as he is about to die, when it's far too late to go back now.

Through the Banquet and its final choice we prove to not only Midori, but to the cast and ourselves that humanity can’t be defined with just the physical truth, and that's what victory means for the dummies, because if someone who actively threw away his own humanity, with all his rocket punches and spinning head can still struggle with contradictory feelings, can try to rely on his allies, can still be forced to make his own choice, and can truly fear death, then humanity  just can’t be defined by something as simple as how much of your body is a doll, and the lines that seemed to divide that, ceases to exist at all.

================================================================================================ Afterword: So that's it. This set of analyses is finally done. Some of you all might have noticed that this is being released exactly one year after my first Anzu analysis, and I just wanted to thank everyone for reading this with me, the fact that there are people who like and agree with what I have to say is still unbelieveable.

I started this series because I thought the dummies were an underappreciated part of YTTD and 3-1 was underappreciated in general. To me this chapter is just incredible, my favourite bit of fiction ever, and I just wanted to put it into words why I love it so much, and as I wrote this series I only grew to love it more!

I hope I was able to share that love to whoever took the time to read any of my posts, its been an incredible time, thank you so much! and i hope you're able to love it a bit more too.

Sorry this one took so long to come out, I've been working on a few projects that i'll hopefully be able to drop soon, and if you're a fan of the dummies I think you'll like what I have in store.

Lastly I want to thank Crazy Sunshine for being such an incredible friend and for helping me so much with the latter half of these analyses, they were improved so much with their help!!!!

And I'll try to be more consistent with these posts but uhh i said that before and that hasn't exactly worked out, regardless this isn't the end, i have a few asks to catch up on still and i am not even remotely close to saying all there is to say about this incredible chapter, so I hope you'll be there when it drops. I hope you've enjoyed this era of my blog and moreso I hope you look forward to the future.

Thank you for reading!!! I hope you enjoyed! and I hope I got you thinking about this incredible chapter even just a little bit more.

[melancholy-of-nadia]

heart on the window #1 (m) | ksj

title: heart on the window (m) pairing: ksj x reader(f) rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; roommates au / streamer/cam boy au / office worker au, childhood rivals to awkward roommates to lovers? au summary: You lost your job, got cheated on by your boyfriend, and had to give up your home—all in the span of a few weeks. Life hasn’t been kind lately, and just when it feels like you’ve hit rock bottom, your mom suggests an unexpected solution: move in with Seokjin, her friend’s son, who you vaguely remember as your annoying childhood rival. You haven't talked to him in like 15 YEARS. But begrudgingly, you agree, hoping for this to be a temporary fix, only to find yourself in a more complicated situation when you discover Seokjin has some dirty little secrets. As you attempt to rebuild your life under his roof, tensions rise, boundaries blur, and you’re forced to confront not only your messy circumstances but also your growing fascination with the man you thought you once knew. note: i actually didn't plan to drop something so soon post me starting my new job, but i had this mostly done but had to edit it up a bit. i've been debating to write a roommate au but couldn't decide which member, until i read @daegudrama's moon over flowers fic where jin is a "content creator" ;) also that jin dating simulator game that released yesterday was a perfect combo to add this with warnings: mild language, roommate! seokjin, stressed out reader, fluff, emotional vulnerability, jin being jin, jin's college frat buddy! namjoon cameo, drinking, implied sexual fantasizing, implied adult content live streaming (camwork), very descriptive solo mast*rbation, voyeurism, dirty talk drop date: November 28th, 2024, 9:00pm pst word count: 7.9k crossposted on ao3 here

–

This is the state of affairs of your life at the moment. 1. Your boyfriend cheated on you. 2. You lost your job (not your fault) 3. Andddd now you have nowhere to live.

Well… it’s not that you don’t have a place to live, but you don’t want to crawl back to your parents' home after making a very big declaration when you were 18 that you would not be coming back to live there. 

Now in your mid 20s (that are slowly creeping into your late 20s), you regret being that loud mouth girl that didn’t understand a damn thing at that age.

You should’ve been smarter about your decisions, starting with your taste in men. You should’ve listened to your friends warnings about Mingi. 

You’re on the phone listening to your mom scolding you over your stupidity and lack of preparedness. You roll your eyes as you continue packing your items into boxes. She suggests you coming home, just as you figured she’d do, but you tell her that you feel bad about coming back at your big old age. “Then why don’t you live with Sunghee’s son?”

Who the fuck is Sunghee? “Who?”

“You don’t remember? The mother of the Korean boy you went to school with in elementary school?” You have no clue who she’s talking about. This is something that happened like 15 to 20 years ago. You can’t believe she remembers something so obscure. “I still don’t have a clue.”

“Agh, i’ll go search through some of your old elementary school photos and send you the photo of him later.” You hear some shuffling on her end, probably guessing she decided to get up and go look at your old photographs in the living room shelves.” But I recently saw his mom at a coffee shop! And she told me her son was living in the same city as you and was looking for a roommate. I mentioned that you were in some situation where you might need to move soon and she gave me her and her son’s contact info.”

“I see.”

“Oh wait, hold on, I found it.”

You hear her snap a photo and within a few seconds, you see the notification on your phone peep behind the call. You click on it and when you open the message, the memories of long ago have finally clicked.

“SEOKJIN?! That weird Korean kid?!”

“Weird kid?! You were friends with him, weren’t you?”

You scoff, “Barely, I mean, he and I were always at each other's necks because he always tried to one-up me in any way that he could.” Recalling those annoying memories from that era was making you get upset all over again. If it wasn’t him completing the times table tests at a faster speed than you, it was him showing off the Pokemon cards that you didn’t have. If it wasn’t that, it was him showing off his level and ranking in Maple Story. That damn nerd.

It’s been years, but the thought of it still urks you.

She sighs, “Well, if you’re willing to look past that at your big old age, this is probably the best option you have.”

Could you do that? Maybe. But knowing how he was back then, he’s probably grown to become some loser virgin shut-in with no life. Maybe he’s a tech bro, which would make this even worse now.

“I think about it, but this is probably the last resort option I’d even consider––”

Your mom cuts you off with a sharp sigh. "Fine, suit yourself. But you don’t have many options, do you? Just call him. He might have changed!"

You don’t answer her right away because the idea of calling Seokjin still doesn’t sit well with you. You’re stubborn, yes, but the universe has also served you a big slice of humble pie lately. It’s probably time to stop holding on to petty grudges from a childhood you barely even remember.

"Okay, okay, I’ll think about it," you mumble reluctantly.

The call ends after a few more half-hearted lectures from your mom about responsibility, and you toss your phone onto the bed, glaring at the contact info she forwarded. You can’t help but click on Seokjin’s number. There’s a photo of him attached to the contact, and for a moment, you don’t recognize him at all.

He’s…hot.

You blink. This cannot be the same kid you argued with over best MapleStory boss (Seokjin opting for Pink Bean, while you said Guardian Angel Slime). The Seokjin in this picture has flawless skin, sharp cheekbones, and full lips curled in a smirk that screams confidence. His hair is styled perfectly, and his outfit—a crisp button-up and a fitted blazer—makes him look like he just stepped out of a magazine.

"No way," you mutter under your breath.

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you find yourself typing his name into Instagram. It doesn’t take long to find his profile because he has mutual followers and a blue checkmark.

Huh? Why a blue checkmark?

…he has 200,000 followers?

Scrolling through his posts, you see screenshots of video games, clips of intense gameplay, and the occasional selfie with gaming equipment in the background. His captions are filled with gaming slang and memes you barely understand, but the sheer number of likes and comments on every post is undeniable.

One clip catches your eye—a short highlight from a League of Legends game where he pulls off an impressive play, and the comments are flooded with people hyping him up. “JinGod strikes again,” one comment reads. Another says, “Of course he’s the best mid-laner NA. Who else?”

Curious, you dive deeper and discover he has a Twitch account. 

Oh! So he’s a streamer?!

Not just any streamer, either—he’s big enough to have sponsors and a massive following. His Twitch bio is straightforward:

Seokjin | Variety Streamer | Big laughs, bigger Ws | 1 PM KST

His stream schedule includes games like Elden Ring, Valorant, League of Legends, and even Getting Over It. There’s a link to his YouTube channel with clips of him absolutely demolishing opponents, mixed with funny moments of him raging at frustrating games.

You stare at your phone, trying to reconcile this version of Seokjin with the kid you used to fight over the last Uncrustables sandwich at lunch. This Seokjin is smooth, funny, and clearly thriving in a world you know nothing about. The comment section on his posts doesn’t help—it’s filled with people thirsting over his voice and his “handsome gamer vibes.”

“Great,” you mutter. “He grew up to be a famous nerd.”

You hate to admit it, but you’re impressed. And irritated. 

Of course, Seokjin grew up to be that guy.

You put your phone down and stare at the pile of boxes scattered across your room. It’s not like you have a ton of other options, and if you’re being honest with yourself, the idea of moving in with Seokjin suddenly feels a lot less horrifying. Maybe he’s not the same insufferable kid you remember.

Or maybe he is, and this will be your worst nightmare.

Before you can chicken out, you force yourself to pick up your phone and dial the number your mom sent you. It rings twice before a deep, smooth voice answers.

“Hello?”

“Uh, hi. Is this…Seokjin Kim?” you ask awkwardly, suddenly hyper-aware of how unprepared you are for this conversation.

“Yes, who’s this?”

“It’s, um, [Y/N]. You probably don’t remember me, but—”

“[Y/N]?” he interrupts, and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice. “The same [Y/N] who used to cry every time I beat her at anything in elementary school? Of course I remember.”

There it is! The Seokjin you cared about so deeply.

 “I did not cry!” You roll your eyes, grip on the phone tightening. 

He laughs, a low, rich sound that’s somehow both infuriating and…nice. “Sure, you didn’t. So, what’s up? Why are you calling me after, what, fifteen…twenty years? Where did you even get my num–”

You take a deep breath, already regretting this. 

“My mom said your mom said you’re looking for a roommate.”

There’s a pause, and then he says, “...I am. Why?"

"I need a place..."

There’s a long pause, and for a moment, you think he’s going to hang up.

“Ah, well why do you need a roommate?” he asks finally, his tone careful, almost guarded. “I thought someone like you would have, I don’t know, a penthouse or something by now with the amazing corporate job my mom told me you have.”

Now this is going to suck to explain to him that whatever decent apartment you had earning a 72,000 salary at your old job is… nonexistent.

You blink at the assumption and quickly fumble for a response. “Haha, not quite. Most places are too expensive in this economy and I’m, uh, downsizing.”

“Downsizing?” he repeats, skepticism dripping from the word. “Why?”

“Because I want to focus on… minimalism.”

There’s silence on the other end, and you can practically hear him trying to decide whether to believe you. 

Oh this was a terrible decision to make. Now he must think you’re a fool!

You glance around your room at the boxes piled with all the clutter you couldn’t bring yourself to throw away and wince. Minimalism is definitely not your thing.

“Minimalism,” he echoes, his tone still doubtful. “Right. Well, I do have an extra room, but I’m not sure you’ll like it here.”

Your grip tightens on the phone. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Let’s just say I stay up late…,” he replies vaguely. 

He must be referring to his streaming career that he isn’t telling you about right now. Wonder if he’s embarrassed by it.

“And I don’t really have time to deal with a high-maintenance roommate.”

The audacity! You did not ask to be attacked right now.

The jab makes your jaw tighten. “I’m not high-maintenance!”

“You sure? Last time I checked, you were the type to lose it over someone messing with your stuff.”

“That was elementary school! I’ve grown up since then.”

“Hmm,” he says, the sound light but still noncommittal. “We’ll see. Come check the place out tomorrow. Noon okay?”

You pause, thrown by his sudden shift. So he’s actually down with you as a roommate? Let’s not get high hopes up now. And if that doesn’t work, you know what? That’s okay.  You will find a way… you hope.

“Yeah, that works.”

“Good,” he says, then hesitates before adding, “And bring references.”

“References?!”

“You can never be too careful,” he replies smoothly, but there’s a faint edge in his voice that you can’t quite place.

“Fine,” you snap, already planning to forge something if necessary.

“Great. See you then.”

The call ends before you can say anything else, leaving you staring at your phone. Something about the conversation feels… off. You can’t tell if it’s his hesitance, the cryptic mention of odd hours, or the subtle curiosity in his tone when he asked about your situation.

Or maybe it could be that it’s been around 15 years since you last talked to him so this entire situation feels like a fever dream.

Whatever it is, you’ll find out tomorrow. One way or another.

The next day arrives quicker than you’d like, and before you know it, you’re standing in front of a massive gated complex that looks like it was ripped straight out of a luxury lifestyle magazine. The building towers above you, a blend of sleek modern design and Mediterranean touches. Creamy stucco walls, wrought-iron accents, and lush greenery climbing up the sides of the buildings make it feel more like an exclusive resort than an apartment complex.

The entrance is lined with tall palm trees swaying gently in the breeze, and the scent of freshly mowed grass mingles with the faint floral fragrance from meticulously arranged garden beds. A stone fountain, its water cascading in perfect tiers, sits in the middle of a circular driveway where luxury cars are parked like they belong in an auto show.

You glance down at your outfit, a simple pair of light wash boyfriend jeans and a blue collared sweater, suddenly feeling underdressed.

“He’s living here?” you mutter under your breath, squinting at the address Seokjin sent you last night again to make sure you’re in the right place.

As you shift awkwardly with your bag slung over your shoulder, the wrought-iron gates buzz, and Seokjin steps through.

If the apartment complex wasn’t enough of a surprise, he certainly is.

Gone is the awkward kid from elementary school, and in his place is a man who seems perfectly at home in his expensive surroundings. Dressed casually in a fitted white shirt that clings to his broad shoulders and a pair of ripped jeans that look way too good on him, Seokjin walks toward you with an easy confidence. His dark hair is styled effortlessly, and even from a distance, you can see the faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“[Y/N],” he calls out, his voice smooth and unmistakably amused.

You shift your bag again, suddenly hyper-aware of how you must look standing there in front of the grand gates. “Seokjin,” you reply, your voice coming out a little more clipped than you intended.

As he approaches, he looks you over, his smirk growing wider. “You’re on time. I wasn’t sure if you’d actually show up.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” you ask, crossing your arms.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he says, his tone teasing. “Maybe because I’d be the last person you’d want to ask for help.”

“Desperate times,” you shoot back, ignoring the way his eyes glint in amusement.

Seokjin chuckles and gestures for you to follow him. “Come on, let’s see if you can survive the tour first.”

He leads you through the gates, where a polished path lined with greenery opens into the main courtyard. The sound of water trickling from another fountain fills the air, and you catch glimpses of the complex’s amenities—an infinity pool that looks like it belongs in a five-star hotel, cabanas with flowing white curtains, and a fitness center with floor-to-ceiling glass walls showcasing state-of-the-art equipment.

“This place is ridiculous,” you say under your breath, craning your neck to take it all in.

Seokjin glances back, his smirk still in place. “You’re not wrong. But wait until you see the inside.”

As you step into the lobby, you’re greeted by marble floors that gleam under the warm glow of chandeliers. The air smells faintly of citrus and something luxurious you can’t quite place, and the concierge greets Seokjin with a polite nod as he leads you to the elevator.

“You’re really living the dream here,” you say, unable to hide the note of disbelief in your voice.

He shrugs, leaning casually against the elevator wall. “With the jobs I have. it has its perks.”

The elevator dings, and as the doors slide open, you catch a glimpse of the hallway—plush carpeting, modern art lining the walls, and soft lighting that makes everything feel impossibly serene.

“Ready?” he asks, stepping out and turning to look at you.

You hesitate for just a second before following him. “As I’ll ever be.”

Seokjin leads you down the hallway, his footsteps silent on the plush carpeting. You’re still processing how this guy, the same kid who used to shove his Pokémon cards in your face, is living in a place so fancy it makes your last apartment look like a broom closet.

“This is my place,” he says, stopping in front of a sleek black door with a digital keypad instead of a regular lock.

He types in the code, the lock clicks open, and he pushes the door wide to reveal his apartment.

Your first thought is that it’s huge.

The open-concept living room stretches out before you, its floor-to-ceiling windows flooding the space with natural light. The view outside is stunning—a panoramic sweep of the suburban city skyline and the sparkling blue ocean in the distance. Inside, the place is immaculate, every piece of furniture modern and deliberately chosen. The couch is a neutral gray sectional big enough to seat a small crowd, and there’s a massive TV mounted on the wall, flanked by minimalist shelves filled with what looks like expensive collectibles and gaming gear.

The kitchen is just as impressive, with marble countertops, a matching backsplash, and stainless steel appliances that gleam under the recessed lighting. A sleek island with barstools separates the kitchen from the living room, and you can’t help but wonder if this is where Seokjin spends his time making whatever expensive coffee you saw on his Instagram feed.

“Well?” he says, stepping inside and kicking off his sneakers near the door. “Don’t just stand there gawking.”

You snap your mouth shut and step in, slipping out of your shoes and placing them neatly next to his. The polished hardwood floors feel cool under your socks, and you hesitate, unsure where to stand.

“It’s… nice,” you say finally, trying to keep your tone neutral.

Seokjin chuckles, clearly amused by your reaction. “Nice? That’s all you’ve got? Most people would be drooling right now.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” he says, his grin widening. He crosses the room and gestures for you to follow. “Come on, let me show you where you’d be staying.”

He gestures toward the main living area, leading you down a short hallway on the left side of the apartment. “Your room would be down this hall,” he says, motioning for you to follow.

You step into the guest room as he opens the door. It’s spacious, with a queen-sized bed dressed in crisp white linens and a tall, minimalist dresser tucked against one wall. A sleek desk sits by a large window, which offers a view of the glittering cityscape and the ocean beyond. The soft gray walls and warm lighting make the room feel both modern and inviting.

“There’s an en-suite bathroom,” Seokjin says, pushing open another door to reveal a compact but luxurious bathroom with marble finishes and a rainfall shower.

“This is… nice,” you admit, turning to glance at him.

“Only the best,” he replies with a shrug, leaning against the doorframe. “Your hall is completely separate from mine. My room’s on the right side of the apartment, so you won’t have to worry about me invading your space.”

He nods toward the opposite end of the living room, where another hallway extends. “My room’s down there on your left. I have a bathroom in front of it too. Oh. and you’d also have the laundry room and a storage closet near your side.”

You glance back at the main living area, noting the layout. His section of the apartment seems just as private, and you can’t help but feel a little relieved that you won’t be tripping over each other.

“It’s set up pretty well for roommates,” you say carefully, trying to keep your tone neutral.

“Glad you think so,” he replies, leaning casually against the doorframe. “This room used to belong to a friend of mine. He was here for an internship a little over a year ago, but he didn’t stay long. Left everything the way it is in case other friends needed a place to crash.”

“That makes sense,” you say, looking around the room again. “So why are you looking for a roommate now?”

Seokjin hesitates for just a second, his eyes flickering toward the window. 

“Well, it would help with a couple of expenses,” 

Your brow furrows. Expenses? You glance around the luxury apartment, mentally tallying the rent for a place like this. With what you know about Seokjin’s successful streaming career—and the office job your mom mentioned—he’s probably doing more than fine financially. But you decide not to press him on it.

Instead, you nod. “Makes sense, I guess.”

“And…” He trails off, his expression softening. Oh, so he is going to explain. “I don’t know, as I’m getting closer to thirty, I guess it might be nice to have someone around. Keeps things from feeling too…quiet.”

The honesty in his voice surprises you, and for a brief moment, you see a different side of him. One that’s not teasing or smug, but… a little lonely, maybe.

You nod again, this time more slowly. “Fair enough. This does happen as we age.”

Seokjin straightens, the moment of vulnerability passing as quickly as it came. “Anyway,” he says, his tone shifting back to its usual playful edge. “We can talk about me more later.”

He gestures for you to follow him back toward the living room.

“Why don’t we sit down and talk first?” he continues, his smirk fading slightly as his expression turns unreadable. “Just want to make sure we’re on the same page before I let you move in.”

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes. “Sure. Let’s talk.”

You follow him to the couch, your curiosity about his reasons for taking on a roommate still lingering in the back of your mind. 

As you settle onto the couch, Seokjin sits across from you in a sleek armchair, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp. It’s like he’s studying you, trying to piece together the situation without asking directly.

“So,” he begins, leaning forward slightly, “I already know you lost your job.”

You freeze. The words hang in the air, and your stomach sinks.

 “How do you know that?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He tilts his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “My mom told me earlier today. She’s the one who convinced me to even think about this arrangement.”

Heat floods your cheeks, embarrassment prickling at your skin. Of course. Your mom couldn’t just leave you well enough alone so she told his mom.

 “Oh,”

“It’s not a big deal,” he says quickly, likely noticing your discomfort. “Things happen, you know? Besides, knowing you, you probably have some savings tucked away to cover rent, right?”

His words hit harder than he probably intended. Sure, you’ve got a little money saved, but it’s dwindling fast. The thought of handing over any of it feels like admitting defeat, a glaring reminder that you’re not where you thought you’d be at this point in your life.

As Seokjin keeps talking, his tone casual and reassuring, his words blur into the background. You’re trapped in your own thoughts, spiraling.

How did it come to this? 

Broke, jobless, and now sitting here asking for a place to live like some helpless kid. You remember being so confident, so sure of yourself when you left home. You went through grueling years of studying finance in college and graduating. Now you’re here, facing the reality that you’re nowhere near where you thought you’d be.

It’s just so pathetic.

You don’t realize you’re crying until a tear slips down your cheek and lands on your hand.

Seokjin stops mid-sentence. “Hey,” he says softly, his voice cutting through your haze. “Are you… crying?”

You wipe at your face quickly, but it’s no use—the tears are falling faster now, and you’re too overwhelmed to stop them. “I’m sorry,” you mumble, mortified. “I don’t even know why—”

“Don’t apologize,” he interrupts, his voice gentle in a way you didn’t expect. He shifts forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he watches you carefully. “It’s okay.”

You shake your head, still swiping at your cheeks. “This is so stupid. I just… I hate being in this position. It’s not where I thought I’d be, and it’s just…” You trail off, your voice breaking.

For a moment, Seokjin doesn’t say anything. Then, he reaches for a tissue box on the coffee table and holds it out to you.

“Here,” he says simply.

You take a tissue and dab at your face, trying to pull yourself together.

“I get it,” he says after a pause, his tone softer now. “Life doesn’t always go how we plan. Trust me, I’ve been there.”

You glance at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. “Really?”

He nods, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah. But you’re not alone, okay? And if you need a place to figure things out, I’m offering you one. No strings, no judgment. But knowing how you’d feel bad for not paying back, just pitch in for some groceries or takeout every once in awhile.”

His words hit you harder than the tears, and you feel a small spark of hope for the first time in a while. Maybe, just maybe, this could work out.

You take a deep breath, the tissue in your hand crumpled from how tightly you’ve been gripping it. “Thanks, Seokjin,” you say, your voice shaky but genuine.

He gives you a small smile, his usual teasing edge softened. “Don’t mention it. Seriously. Just don’t leave your dirty dishes in the sink, and we’ll be fine.”

A faint laugh escapes you, surprising even yourself. “I think I can manage that.”

He stands up, stretching his arms overhead before motioning toward the hallway. “If you need help with your stuff, just let me know.”

You nod, feeling a little more grounded. “I will.”

The next morning, you’re standing outside your old apartment building, the last of your boxes stacked neatly by the curb. Before leaving the day before, you did ask Jin if he could help you move some of your stuff, and he somehow kindly agreed.

You’ve barely had time to double-check everything when you hear the rumble of a truck pulling up. Turning toward the sound, you see a sleek gray Ford truck roll to a stop in front of you.

Seokjin hops out of the driver’s seat, dressed casually in a lavender hoodie and dark wash jeans, looking every bit the picture of someone who’s done this a hundred times before. On the passenger side, another guy climbs out, taller and broader than Jin, with dimples flashing in a warm smile.

Woah, he’s kind of cute.

“Morning,” Seokjin calls, striding toward you. He gestures to the other man. “This is Namjoon. He’s here to help out with the heavier things.”

“Hi [Y/N],” Namjoon says, his voice deep but friendly as he extends a hand. “Jin told me you needed an extra set of hands, so here I am.”

You shake his hand, still a little taken aback. “Thanks. Nice to meet you, Namjoon.”

“He’s an old college buddy,” Seokjin explains, leaning against the side of the truck. “We were in the same professional fraternity back in the day. That’s how we met.”

Namjoon chuckles, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “Yeah, Jin somehow convinced me to join since we were floormates. Said it would look good on my resume. Ended up being one of the best decisions I made, though. The networking was great, and we had a lot of fun.”

“Too much fun,” Seokjin adds with a smirk. “I think we spent half our time organizing events and the other half trying to keep Namjoon from breaking stuff.”

Namjoon groans, his dimples deepening as he laughs. “Okay, that was one time—and it wasn’t even my fault!”

You find yourself smiling at their bickering and brief memory despite the stress of the day. Their banter feels easy and natural, a dynamic that’s comforting in a way you hadn’t expected. It’s nice to hear Jin had a pretty cool college experience.

“Well,” Namjoon says, clapping his hands together. “Let’s get started. The sooner we load this up, the sooner we can get everything settled.”

Between the three of you, the boxes are loaded into the truck in no time. Namjoon lifts the heavier ones like they’re nothing, while Seokjin teases him about showing off. You carry the smaller items, grateful for their help and relieved that the process is moving quickly.

Once the last box is secured in the truck bed, Seokjin glances over at you. “Ready to head out?”

You nod, brushing your hands off on your jeans. “Yeah. I’ll follow behind you guys with my car.”

As your car and his truck pulls away from your old apartment, you find yourself feeling a little lighter. It’s still hard to believe this is your life right now, but it doesn’t feel quite as overwhelming. Maybe, just maybe, this new chapter won’t be so bad after all.

The move-in process is exhausting but efficient. Seokjin and Namjoon take charge of the heavier boxes while you focus on the smaller ones. Your room starts to take shape, with your bed frame set up in one corner and your essentials arranged along the walls. The other boxes you don’t need immediately are stacked neatly in the living room, ready to be taken to your parents’ place for temporary storage later.

After two hours of hauling, unpacking, and arranging, the three of you are sweaty and starving.

“I think that’s everything,” Namjoon says, leaning against the couch and wiping his forehead with the hem of his shirt.

“Pizza?” Seokjin asks, already pulling out his phone.

“Pizza,” you and Namjoon echo in unison.

“And chicken wings,” Namjoon adds with a grin. “We earned it.”

“And beer,” Seokjin finishes, smirking. “That sounds good to you?”

You nod happily.

Within half an hour, the smell of pepperoni, garlic, and fried chicken fills the apartment. The three of you gather around the coffee table in the living room, the TV playing 30 Rock quietly in the background. You sit cross-legged on the rug while Seokjin and Namjoon sprawl on the couch, all of you diving into the food like it’s the best meal you’ve ever had.

“So, Namjoon,” you start between bites of pizza, “what do you do now? Not breaking stuff as Jin mentioned, right?”

He laughs, a deep, warm sound that makes you smile. “Thankfully, no. I’m working in publishing now, managing creative projects. Still a little chaotic, but at least it’s not as physically dangerous.”

“Only mentally,” Seokjin teases, raising his beer.

“True,” Namjoon admits, clinking his bottle against Jin’s.

“What about you?” Namjoon asks, turning the attention to you. “What do you do?”

You hesitate, picking at the crust of your pizza. “I worked at a fashion company, but the company underwent some layoffs. So this is kind of…a transitional period for me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I know it’s been a tough market, but with your focused attitude and experience, I’m sure you’ll find something new soon.”

“I hope so.”

After a few more slices and some casual conversation about work, gaming, and travel, the beers start to settle in. The atmosphere grows looser, and the conversation takes a turn into more, juicier topics.

“So,” Seokjin begins, leaning back against the armrest with a mischievous grin. “Getting into a more interesting topic…Relationships. What’s the story there?”

You groan, covering your face with your hands. “All of a sudden? Why do I feel like this is a setup?”

“It’s not a setup. We’re just curious. Plus easy topic to become closer.”

Namjoon chuckles, “Don’t bring me into this, Jin,” 

“Well…” You pause, debating how much to share. The buzz from the beer nudges you toward honesty. “Without going to deep into it, let’s just say my last relationship ended badly. Cheating, lies, the whole package.”

Seokjin winces. “Ouch. That’s rough.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t fun,” you admit, swirling your drink. “But honestly, it’s probably for the best. I’ve got enough on my plate right now without dealing with that kind of drama.”

Namjoon nods thoughtfully. “It’s hard to find someone who’s actually worth your time these days. Everyone’s either too focused on themselves or doesn’t know what they want.”

Seokjin chuckles, a slightly bitter edge to his tone. “Or they’re just not ready to commit, no matter how much they say they are.”

You glance at him, intrigued by the shift in his demeanor. “Speaking from experience?”

He shrugs, taking a sip of his beer. “I plead the fifth.”

Namjoon raises an eyebrow at him but doesn’t press further. You decide not to either.

“What about you, Namjoon?” you ask, redirecting the spotlight. “Any tragic love stories to share?”

He grins, shaking his head. “Nothing tragic, thankfully. Just a lot of learning experiences. I’ve been too focused on work to really put myself out there lately.”

The conversation continues, flowing easily despite the heavy topic. As the night stretches on, you find yourself feeling unexpectedly comfortable. Seokjin and Namjoon’s company has been a comfortable change of pace from prior weeks of being alone and dealing with the aftermath of your ended relationship and job. Being all alone with your thoughts hasn’t been easy. Lost in a whirlpool of negative thoughts. And with your closest friends, Yunjin and Wendy, living miles away, even leaning on them hadn’t been an option.

But for the first time in a while, you could even say you feel happy to be around others.

The clock on the wall creeps past 11:00pm, and Namjoon glances at his phone with a small sigh. “I should probably get going before it gets too late.”

“Already?” Seokjin teases, though his tone is more playful than serious.

Namjoon chuckles. “Some of us have a really early morning commute tomorrow, Jin.” He stands, stretching his arms overhead before reaching for his jacket. 

“I do too, you know!”

“But hey, this was fun. I’ll definitely swing by again. I’ll see you for your monthly Marvel movie nights, right?”

Seokjin grins. “You know it. You can’t miss those!”

Namjoon laughs, shaking his head fondly. “Yeah, yeah. Let me know when the next one is.”

You and Seokjin walk him to the elevator, chatting casually as you descend to the ground floor. Outside, the air is cooler, a light breeze stirring as Namjoon’s Uber pulls up to the curb.

“Thanks for helping out today,” you say, offering him a grateful smile. “I don’t think we could’ve done it without you.”

“Anytime,” Namjoon replies warmly. “And welcome to the apartment. I’m sure Jin’ll keep things interesting for you.”

Seokjin snorts. 

Namjoon smirks. “See you both soon!”

With a wave, Namjoon climbs into the car, and you watch as it drives off into the night.

You and Seokjin linger outside for a moment, the hum of the city quieting as the car disappears from view.

“Well,” Seokjin says after a beat, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Guess it’s just us now.”

“Looks like it,” you reply, feeling a strange mix of ease and uncertainty.

Well you did just unload some emotional baggage about your shitty past relationship earlier. The alcohol running through your veins isn’t helping either.

“Come on,” he says, nodding toward the entrance. “Let’s get back inside. You’ve had a long day.”

You follow Jin back to the apartment, the soft hum of the elevator ride and the quiet hallways lulling you into a peaceful state. Once inside, the two of you automatically start tidying up the coffee table and living area, picking up empty beer bottles, wiping down surfaces, and folding the napkins that had been left scattered. It’s a quiet, easy rhythm, and before long, the space looks just as pristine as when you first arrived.

“I think we’ve earned a good night’s sleep.”

You nod, stifling a yawn. “Agreed. Thanks again, Jin… for everything.”

He shrugs, his expression light but genuine. “Don’t mention it. Get some rest, Roomie.”

You laugh, “Will do.”

With that, Jin heads down the hallway to the right, disappearing into his room. You make your way to the left, to your room, the soft padding of your steps on the hardwood floor the only sound.

Once inside, you close the door and lean against it for a moment, letting the day’s events settle in your mind. Your room is still sparse, with only the basics unpacked, but it feels cozy enough. The bed, made with fresh sheets, beckons invitingly, and your unpacked boxes wait patiently in the corner, reminding you there’s more work to be done tomorrow.

You slip into something comfortable, wash your face, and settle under the covers. The bed is surprisingly soft, the kind that you could sink into and never leave. But despite the exhaustion tugging at your body, sleep doesn’t come right away.

Your thoughts drift, unbidden, to Jin’s easy demeanor since you’ve started talking to him again. His kind words. His quick, charming smile and laughter. His height—tall enough that you had to tilt your head to look him in the eye. And those plump lips of his…

Huh? No, no wait a minute!

You blink at the ceiling, catching your thoughts veering dangerously south. What the hell is wrong with you? Maybe it’s the beer, or maybe it’s the fact that kindness from a man feels so foreign after everything you’ve been through. Whatever it is, your brain is doing laps around something you absolutely should not be thinking about.

Gross. Stop it. You scrunch your face in frustration, trying to shake the image of Jin’s stupidly handsome face from your mind.

This is Seokjin, your childhood rival, the annoying kid who used to show off his stupid gaming collection and beat you at literally everything. That’s all he is. That’s all he’ll ever be.

He is just kindly letting you stay with him, but you know he’s going to be waiting for you to move out soon enough.

With a groan, you roll over and pull the covers up to your chin, willing your thoughts to calm down. Sleep. That’s what you need. Just sleep.

With a groan, you roll over and pull the covers up to your chin, willing your thoughts to calm down. Eventually, you manage to quiet your mind, and your eyes drift shut. Slowly, the tension in your body melts away, and for the first time in what feels like ages, you fall into a deep, uninterrupted sleep.

It’s the kind of sleep that cradles you, soothing the jagged edges of your worries. The stressors in your life—the layoff, the breakup, the uncertainty of your future—haven’t disappeared, but for once, they feel distant, safely tucked on the backburner. This new chapter isn’t perfect, but at least one major burden has been lifted, and that’s enough for now.

Until it isn’t.

The urge comes on suddenly, pulling you from the cocoon of rest. You blink groggily, your senses slowly catching up to reality as you register the weight pressing against your bladder. Turning your head to the side, you squint at the clock on your phone: 2:33 a.m.

You need to pee.

You groan softly. Of course. Why wouldn’t your body choose the middle of the night to interrupt what was probably the nicest sleep you’ve had in months? Throwing off the covers, you shuffle out of bed and head for the bathroom, still half-asleep and stumbling in your room as you walk inside the en-suite bathroom.

The cool tile under your feet jolts you a bit closer to full consciousness. The soft hum of the apartment at night feels oddly soothing, even as you fumble to turn on the light.

After finishing up and washing your hands, you pause for a moment, the dryness in your throat making itself known. Great. Now you’re thirsty too.

The memory of Jin mentioning the case of bottled water he keeps under the kitchen sink stops you. Sighing, you quietly slip out of your room, padding into the darkened apartment.

The space is eerily still, the shadows from the streetlights outside casting faint patterns across the floor of the living room. You make your way to the kitchen, carefully navigating around the furniture, not wanting to stub a toe or knock anything over.

Opening one of the cabinet beneath the sink, you find the water bottle case Jin mentioned. The plastic crinkles as you grab a bottle, and you wince, hoping the noise doesn’t carry too far. Closing the cabinet as quietly as you can, you straighten up and twist the cap open, taking a long, refreshing sip.

As you stand there, your gaze drifts toward the living room and the hallway that leads toward Jin’s room. You notice light seeping from below the doorway. Is he still up? Shouldn’t he be sleeping? He did mention something earlier about needing to head into the office in the morning.

Well… maybe he’s streaming? Jin has been kind of hesitant to talk openly about his side hustle, but after your harmless sleuthing on his Instagram the other day, it makes sense to have this type of scheduling. His posts, the tags, the casual mentions of late-night work—it all points to streaming. And why not? No shame in being a streamer. Plenty of people are wildly successful doing it. And he’s probably catering to overseas fans in Asia during these hours.

You shrug to yourself. Whatever he’s doing, it’s not your business. 

Deciding not to overthink it, you turn to head back to your room. But after a couple of steps in the living room, a faint noise catches your attention.

You freeze.

A voice… soft, low, and unmistakably a moan.

Your breath hitches as the sound cuts through the stillness, sending your thoughts racing. What was that…?

Haha… you must be overthinking things.

For a moment, you stand there, unsure whether to move or pretend you didn’t hear anything at all.

But now, from this angle, you notice something else. Jin’s door isn’t fully closed. It’s very, very slightly ajar.

The realization makes your pulse quicken. You’re not sure why—it’s not like you were planning to barge in or anything. But the faint glow spilling from the room and that sound… it feels like you’ve stumbled into something you weren’t meant to witness.

Your eyes dart to the gap in the doorway, then back to your water bottle. Just go to bed, you tell yourself. Whatever Jin is doing is none of your business. You’ve already overstepped enough by loitering here in the middle of the night.

But your feet don’t move.

Instead, you find yourself stepping a bit closer, trying to make sense of what’s going on. The soft glow of a screen flickers against the walls, accompanied by faint, muffled sounds—another low moan, followed by a voice, Jin’s voice, quiet but distinct.

He’s probably just streaming, you reason, though your mind betrays you, replaying the noise you just heard. That didn’t sound like any gaming commentary you’ve ever heard.

Your curiosity battles with your better judgment. This is weird. This is weird. Go back to bed, you scold yourself. Yet, you find yourself taking a hesitant step closer, your bare feet silent against the floor.

Peering at the slight crack in the door, you catch a glimpse of Jin sitting at his desk, his back to the door. He’s wearing a loose-fitting hoodie, the hood pulled halfway up, and his headphones cover his ears.

You hesitate for just a moment too long, your eyes flickering back to the gap in the door. Jin shifts slightly in his chair, and that’s when you see it—his hand moving slowly, deliberately, along the length of his member.

Oh my god…

Your breath catches in your throat as the realization slams into you. 

You catch yourself lingering, unable to look away despite every nerve in your body screaming at you to turn back. Jin’s hoodie hangs loosely over his broad shoulders, the fabric shifting slightly with his movements. His hand moves with deliberate intent, wrapping firmly around his length as he strokes himself in a slow, unhurried rhythm.

The motion is mesmerizing, almost practiced—his grip tightening subtly at the base before sliding upward, then loosening as his hand glides back down. His fingers flex with precision, coaxing soft, breathy moans from his lips, barely audible but enough to make your skin prickle.

He shifts in his chair, angling himself slightly toward the camera, his movements smooth and calculated. His legs are spread comfortably apart, the outline of his frame illuminated by the soft glow of the monitor. The confidence in his actions is undeniable, as if he’s done this countless times before, every motion intentional and deliberate for the audience he can’t see but knows is watching.

Your heart pounds harder when his strokes pick up pace briefly, then slow again, teasing, calculated. His chest rises and falls in measured breaths, and every now and then, a low groan escapes, richer and deeper than the softer sounds he’s been making.

“Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” Jin murmurs suddenly, his tone smooth and teasing, almost playful. You jump up slightly from the sudden spoken words. His strokes grow a fraction faster, his hand tightening briefly before loosening again. “Bet you’ve been waiting all day for this.”

The faint click of his mouse follows, likely scrolling through the flood of comments. A soft chuckle escapes his lips, and he tilts his head as if he’s reading something amusing.

“Oh, you want me to go slower?” he says, his voice dropping a notch, rich and deliberate. His movements follow suit, his hand sliding torturously slow along his length, eliciting a low groan from deep in his chest. “Patience. You’ll get what you’re asking for. Just keep watching.”

He shifts in his chair, leaning back slightly, his free hand brushing over his thigh. “Such a needy audience tonight,” he adds with a smirk, his tone dripping with mock indulgence. “But I guess I can’t blame you. You love it when I take my time, don’t you?”

Your breath catches as you hear the faintest hitch in his voice, a sign that even he isn’t immune to his own ministrations. “Mm, that’s it,” he murmurs, his strokes quickening again as his chest rises and falls in heavier breaths. “Keep telling me what you want. I can’t get enough of it.”

The chat on his screen is moving so quickly it’s impossible to follow, but he clearly can. His responses are measured, tailored, and completely immersed in the moment.

“You’re spoiling me tonight,” he says with a breathy laugh, likely reacting to a particularly generous tip or comment. His hand slows again, teasing, his thumb brushing over the tip of his length in a way that draws a soft, shuddering groan from his lips. “Guess I should return the favor, huh?”

His voice lowers further, almost a whisper, intimate in a way that makes your heart pound. “Let me know how much you’re enjoying this,” he says, his words melting into another low moan. “Because I’m not stopping anytime soon.”

Your pulse races as you watch him lean back slightly, adjusting his position to maintain his pace, his focus entirely on the screen and the comments it displays. The intimacy of the scene feels almost overwhelming, and it’s enough to snap you out of your trance.

You step back, your breath hitching as you force yourself to retreat. Whatever this is, you weren’t meant to see it! 

And yet the image is burned into your mind as you close your door, your thoughts swirling in a storm of confusion, embarrassment, and curiosity.

Oh my fucking god… 

The soft click of the mouse breaks you from your trance, and you realize you’ve been standing there far too long. Before Jin can notice anything amiss, you step away from his side of the apartment as quietly as possible,  your heart pounding like a drum in your chest.

You retreat down the hall to your room, shutting the door behind you with trembling hands. Leaning against it, you try to catch your breath, your mind racing. Jin, your childhood rival and now your new roommate, is apparently living a double life you never could have anticipated.

Never mind.

This new life that you’re living, will not be easy at all.

-

-

-

a/n: happy thanksgiving!! this is another very short series i plan to make with around 3-5 chapters. i'll keep brainstorming and slowly writing this along with my a(myg)dala fic series... but this is very brainrot not too heavy focus on plot so i probably won't take long to continue it compared to the other series hehe!! thank you all for the support and for reading!

➸ let me know what you think OR join the taglist for future works! ➸ check out my masterlist for other fics I have made

[teoft]

It's like Tumblr has become almost a diary for me, thanks to no character limit and a read more button. This atmosphere of acceptance and understanding helps a lot too.

I'll get back to posting actual art, juggling with Twitter and Bluesky along with commissions is taking up a lot of my time.

Anyway, thoughts about art community and being social

For the longest time I've had this feeling of being an outsider in this vague community of artists that see as colleagues of sorts. Like I meet all the "criteria" of being in the group, and yet don't really feel like I'm part of it. Well, it seems I am right in some way, and the reason is that they interact with each other, while I sit here drawing alone.

Unfortunately I've always been prone to isolate myself from others. I grew up feeling like I should be ashamed of loving to draw, since it was always fanart monsters, creatures and cool guys instead of "proper art" like animals and portraits. Before social media, I only drew for myself and never showed anything to anybody. I hid my art from my family, from the world, so that I wouldn't be judged. I think it is one of the biggest reasons why I have trouble interacting with people in the context of art (tbh I'm shit at being social anyway but that's a whole another problem).

Even when I had a scanner and means to post my art online, I never did, due to the whole "if you put something online it'll be there forever" mindset. My first actual account anywhere online must've been Facebook in 2010ish, where I only had a few friends. It was the perfect place for me to finally post anything online, and so I did: I used to post pretty much everything I drew on there. Slowly gaining courage, I eventually made my original Tumblr account, then Deviantart, Twitter, etc.

Still, all I did was throw my art out there in hopes of somebody liking it. I didn't really know how to interact with the people who commented on my posts, so instead I mostly just... made more art. I did have some friend groups here and there, but either they ended up falling apart or my social battery drained in such a way that I slowly drifted away. I had gotten used to just being by myself and relying only on myself in the online art world.

During my design studies, I started putting more thought and work on promoting myself, so that it could be one career path for me to take. My mindset was that I'll work hard and become "big", even if it meant that one post gained me just one follower. In 2020 I ended up going viral with a meme and suddenly getting tens of thousands of followers. It was great and a welcome boost of morale, but unfortunately 2020 was otherwise one of the worst years in my life.

Throughout the years people have come and gone, so the only constant for me has been myself, and my drive to develop my skills. Thus it's been too easy for me to just isolate myself. In a way it has been my strength with regards to art, but sometimes I wish I knew how to make lasting connections. I think/know I might be autistic to some degree, which adds to the difficulty of being social. Though, to be honest, I don't know if I'd gotten this far without my autistic hyperfixations.

I guess the thing I need to do now to fix this problem of loneliness and isolation is to just... slowly try and be more social. To reply to comments and talk to people. All of which is easier said than done. Still, just gotta take that first step and then keep going.

Despite lacking the kind of community I yearn for, it seems I've made a name for myself, enough so that people seem to take pride in knowing me. Or at least that's the impression I've gotten a few times. But still, I am happy that I've had a positive effect on people. After all, my two main motivators in art are that I like doing it, and I like when people enjoy my art.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

How well JK execute mystery in her books?

I'd say pretty well overall. Like, each HP book has its own slowly building mystery thread, and then you have mysteries that are over the course of the whole series. In general, I think she's pretty good at slowly building up a mystery and leaving a ton of foreshadowing behind for a second reading.

Philosopher's Stone has a really well-structured mystery. It's planted in the reader's mind at Gringotts when Hagrid takes the package. Then Gringotts is broken into, there's the out-of-bounds Third Floor Corridor, and something is killing the unicorns. Like, it's very well structured and has a satisfying conclusion that fits all the buildup.

Chamber of Secrets has one of the better mysteries in the series, I think. Like, in how it's written and structured. We start this one not slowly, but with a bang by Dobby telling Harry there's a nefarious plot. This already gets the ball rolling and the reader questioning. Add to that we see Lucius at Diagon Alley, we later see Ginny acting odd, Myrtle is there since very early in the book, and Harry's Parseltongue from the beginning of PS comes back into play. The foreshadowing and buildup are all there and the tension slowly builds up as Harry (and you) learn more. Then you meet Tom and fall for him a little like Harry does which makes the reveal (which is obvious in hindsight) all the more heart-reaching. I really like the mystery in CoS.

Prisoner of Azkaban takes a page out of CoS and starts with the bang of "Sirius Black escaped Azkaban and he's trying to kill Harry". Unfortunately, unlike in CoS, the mystery doesn't really breathe over the course of the book. Sure, you have the "what's up with Lupin" thread, but throughout the book, Harry isn't really interested in that mystery. It's all about his parents and Sirius Black. There is no question regarding Sirius' guilt throughout this book until the very end and the question of what he wants isn't raised either because Harry believes he is out to kill him. So, I'd say PoA isn't really a mystery the way the first two are since the answers we got don't fit the questions we asked.

Goblet of Fire is, like its name, fire. This is my favorite book, and the mystery plot is serving in this one. Moody acts strange throughout the whole book, someone puts Harry's name in the goblet, Moody is drinking from a flask, and Snape has some potion ingredients used for Polyjuice in CoS stolen from him. And then you have the memory of the trial scene of Barty and Ceouch Sr walking around too. All the buildup to the reveal is great and super fun to point out on a second readthrough. The answers are super satisfying as well and are so worth the buildup. Like, the ending of this book hits. There's a reason this one is my favorite.

Order of the Phoenix is a bit of a weaker entry. Not for the same reasons as PoA though. OotP does ask the questions: "What's the weapon Voldemort is after?", "What are the Order guarding?", and "What is this hallway Harry keeps dreaming about?" And all these questions get a satisfying answer. My problem is in the buildup. The buildup in this book of Harry's connection to Voldemort is more relevant to the overarching mystery regarding Harry being a Horcrux, not to the internal mystery of OotP. So, OotP's mystery lacks in the slow progression throughout the book itself, but you don't feel it cause it has so many other great things going on in it.

Half-Blood Prince is similar to OotP. Like, it has two mystery threads, really and both of them don't really get a slow, gradual buildup towards that answers (even if the answers are good). Like, the mystery of who the prince is doesn't really get much foreshadowing, and even on a second read you barely get hints toward the prince being Snape. Same for what's Draco up to, honestly. Like, as the reader you kinda know what's going on with him, so it's just Harry trying to figure out what you kinda already know. Like, it doesn't have the gradual build from the earlier books of the mystery being unraveled slowly until the final moment of the reveal. Like OotP, HBP has a lot else going for it so you don't notice it much.

Deathly Hallows, has so many little mysteries inside it so it feels unfocused because it's trying to do too much. Becouse of that, I think some of the mysteries are better than others. It's the culmination of the mystery of Harry and Voldemort's connection, which I think was very well structured over the course of the whole series. Dumbledore's past and master plan and who Dumbledore really was, was a fun theme/mystery that I think was done well. I would've liked it better if Harry didn't name his kid Albus if only to leave this mystery open-ended a little, you know? so the reader could think for themselves what they think about Dumbledore without shoehorning in that Harry thinks he's good. The mystery of Deathly Hallows, which is the titular mystery of this book, could've been built better. It's lacking some buildup during the book (and before it if we're being honest) and I would've liked learning more about the Hallows than what we got. Like, it feels like a mystery that didn't get all the answers it should've gotten. Like in OotP and HBP, there is so much else going on, that the weaker internal book mystery would've been basically unnoticeable if the book was more well-structured and had better pacing.

These are my opinions as there is some subjectivity in this sort of question.

[takeout-taradiddle]

Ivy's hands shook as she grasped the controls. "It's fine. I can do this, I can do this, I can do this. I can. I can. I can do it."

She took deep breaths, and gently pressed the autopilot button.

Nothing happened.

"Don't panic, don't panic, don't be a little bitch," she murmured hatefully to herself, under her breath. She pushed the button again, harsher. And then again, as hard as she could.

[ AUTOPILOT ROLL: 1 - FAIL. ]

"Autopilot currently offline?! Are you fucking kidding me?!"

Her voice quickly rose in a panic. "Okay! Okay okay okay! Fine, fine! I can do this! I can handle it, I can fix it, I'll make it work, I can do it! I can, god, I can, I can I can I can I can," her words devolved into frantic mumbling, a droning background noise as she gripped the steer, so hard her nails sunk into the soft rubber and left marks.

She read the autopilot's code. She can do this. Sure, doing so broke it permanently, but she could still use that information to--

[ SKILL CHECK ROLL: 7 - FAIL ]

"Oh god."

Ivy's vision swam with tears. The screens were blurred and confusing, written in a language she couldn't speak. She didn't understand anything. She couldn't figure anything out. She didn't know.

Aim for the largest part of the ship and turn slightly.

Her chest heaved with sobs, and desperately, Ivy tried to locate it. She tried to figure out what the screens meant, what she was looking at, what she was supposed to do. Her shoulders started to shake with the force of her crying. Too much, too much, too much.

She was scared. She was panicking. She was losing control.

She already lost it.

[ SKILL CHECK ROLL: 13 - FAIL ]

In the chair next to her, the precious little doll, her darling, her demon, the light and bane of her existence, was filling in for co-pilot. Of course, that doesn't do anything to help her. The doll can't reach the controls with his stubby limbs, and the tormented soul bound to it couldn't make the technology work for him, either.

Jimmy twisted the doll's face into a scowl. Again. Again. He was watching the Tulpar crash again, and this time, he couldn't run from it, couldn't escape it.

This wasn't even his fucking fault, damn it, he was dead, he shouldn't have to clean up after--

The girl. Right.

That's right.

Ivy is shaking, hands still clutching the controls, eyes unseeing and blind from tears. She's an ugly crier, but he knew that already. She's not a pilot, not a leader. But she is useful, surely.

He can't talk to her, she can't hear him - she doesn't even see him, he's less than fucking Anya of all people - but he can influence her.

How hard can it be?

[ POSSESSION ROLL: 16 - PASS ]

[ CONTESTING ROLL: 9 - FAIL ]

Not hard at all.

Ivy's tears rolled down her face still, as one hand slowly let go of the controls, reached over, and grabbed the doll. She mechanically moved Jimmy to her lap, setting him down like he was sitting in a chair. Perfect.

He can't exercise full control here, but he can use Ivy's hands.

To her, it was like a blanket of calm falling over her. She took a deep breath, and carefully course corrected. Ivy pulled back on the thrusters, slowing the ship, and turned, angling for the docking bay like Curly showed him told her.

[ SKILL CHECK ROLL: 20 - CRITICAL PASS ]

It's so easy. It's like second nature. He She knows where everything is, he she knows exactly what to do and where to press, to check, to flip. Jimmy Ivy is a good co-pilot learner. It's easy, and calm. There's nothing so stressful about it, is there? This is simple, he she learned this in pilot's school while reading all those lines of code.

Of course, it doesn't matter.

As soon as the ship gets close enough, the amalgamation of a Tulpar residing in the rift gains another member.

But at least they didn't crash into it or do any damage, and isn't that great? He's still got it, a decade later. She's such a fast learner, despite the initial panic.

It all worked out, in the end.

[lanormie]

blipped - mcu crossover au (pt. 4)

you're forced to navigate the aftermath of The Blip, where half of the population get thrown back into existence after disappearing for five years. pairing: pro-hero!Shouto x f!pro-hero!reader (ft. slight katsuki x reader) read on AO3 previous part

For what seemed like hours, you watched Katsuki go through all five stages of grief through his texts. He would go through them in the utmost chaotic order, barely grazing Acceptance before flipping right back to Denial. Anger was the only constant, though maybe it was just Katsuki being Katsuki. 

A casual ‘happy birthday baby’ would go right into him lashing out with fuck-yous and other expletives, then take a dizzying sharp turn with him apologizing profusely and more sweetly than you’d ever expected Katsuki to be. The next minute he would monologue for pages about the most random thing then call you rude for not texting back.

It was after about two years and a half when his laments slowly started to peter out. Acceptance took the driver seat, his spread out texts took on a melancholic overtone instead of pure manic. 

Then it stopped altogether after four years.

* * * * *

You find Shouto in the rear courtyard methodically hanging up freshly laundered clothings and beddings on the clotheslines.

You have stopped questioning a long time ago why the wealthy family of six (plus all the strays they keep taking in, like you for example) doesn’t own a dryer, and instead have come to love the nostalgic scent of line dried clothes.

Thin sheets flutter in the breeze, catching the harsh afternoon sunlight in their undulation. Birdsong twirls and mixes with the sound of wind rustling through crisp autumn leaves in a wordless call and response. Everything is so peaceful, so quiet. Too quiet. It vehemently contradicts the storm brewing inside of you.

You think it’s trying to say that the world would march on regardless of what’s happening to little insignificant ol’ you .

In fact, it did.

“You’ve been in there for a while. Are you alright?”

Shouto peeks out from behind a blanket. Whether he means in your room or in your head, since you look like you’ve been glued to the doorway, you don’t know.

You step into a pair of outdoor slippers set neatly on one side of the porch and make your way towards one of the laundry baskets.

“Sorry I didn’t come back out. I was reading Katsuki’s texts. There were… a lot of them.”

Falling back into the song and dance of pinning clothes onto the sturdy cotton ropes is easy. You’ve helped out Shouto with laundry duty many times before, knowing exactly how to space things out so the drying is optimal.

The lingering scent of detergent nudges its way into your hair and weaves into the warm sunlight around you like a hug.

“He was the one who gave me your phone, with some choice words about showing up here if I didn’t give it to you.”

“At least that part of him hasn’t changed.” You sigh. “He said he’d kept the stuff from my apartment at the agency and he wanted me to come by tomorrow to talk to him.”

“That is blackmail.” Shouto frowns. “You don’t have to go, we can replace all of your stuff.” 

“I don’t know what is worse, Sho. Facing him or sitting here dwelling on it.” You smooth out the damp pillowcase for the dozenth time. “He was…hurt. Badly. It might not have been my fault, but I was the cause nonetheless.” 

Shouto reaches over and gently stops your hands from anxiously fussing with the fabric.

“That doesn’t mean you’re not hurting too.”

He tosses half of the final sheet over the rope and hands you one end, and you both slowly walk backwards to spread the sheet out.

Once both ends are secured with wooden clothespins, Shouto collects all the baskets and sneakily flips one upside down over your head. Your surprised laugh is muffled slightly in the confines of the rattan weaves, and he lets a soft smile dance across his statue-like features.

“If you decide to go, I’ll walk back with you.” 

“Slacker. You're just using me to get out of work.” You lift the basket from your head and start heading for the porch.

He simply shrugs. “It’s not slacking if you’re not on the payroll.”

* * * * *

The open front gate of the agency threatens to swallow you whole as you stand stock still in front of it. Normally you would have to scan yourself in, but with the number of returning employees that are no longer part of the system, they have temporarily switched to manual check-in in the main lobby, leaving the gate wide open.

Yet you can’t seem to bring yourself to walk through it. As if it’s a threshold of something that would trap you in and you would not be able to back out.

Your grip on the red metal hand truck tightens. Maybe this is a bad idea. Maybe you’re still not ready to see him.

Perhaps you can head straight to the storage, grab your most important stuff then run right back out, and Katsuki will be none the wiser. 

So you push yourself forward, greet the receptionist with the best smile you can muster, quickly grab the code for your container and take the stairs down to the storage floor, the hand truck trailing in the air behind you.

The storage is basically an underground warehouse that contains about a hundred metal pods, all under temperature and humidity control. You are honestly glad that Katsuki had brought your belongings here, since finding them under 5 years of dust and spiderwebs wouldn’t exactly be thrilling.

The heavy door echoes loudly in the otherwise eerily quiet warehouse, making you wince. Reaching for your phone to double check the pod number, you see a text from Shouto.

‘Please let me know when you’re done, Sero is recounting 5 years of pop culture and he’s going to let a Solo Leveling spoiler slip, I just know it.’

You shoot back a quick ‘lol will do’ with a small smile on your face, your anxiety subsiding a smidge. You make your way to the far left corner where your container sits and plug in your code. The roll up door quietly opens, the light automatically turns on and you hear something stir.

Your couch is sitting neatly against the side wall, and the person laying on it just got woken up by your entrance.

And their squinting crimson eyes widen the moment they register that it’s you.

“How long have you been in here for?” You question, internally lamenting your ruined plans.

“I got an overnight patrol.” Katsuki sits up and roughly rubs the grogginess out of his eyes. His voice is significantly deeper with sleep, its familiarity tugging hard at you.

You look away and curtly hum in reply. Setting the hand truck by the door, you step into the pod and start rooting through the pile of boxes strewn all across the room. You can feel his eyes follow you closely, until he eventually clears his throat.

“What um, what are you looking for?” 

You don’t think you’ve ever heard Katsuki sound so unsure. Maybe he’s as unprepared for this ‘conversation’ as you are.

“My clothes.” You keep your eyes on the boxes in front of you, still unable to find it in you to look at him.

“Here.” He stands up and reaches for a few boxes sitting on top of your dresser. But before he can walk over with them, you lift them out of his hands with your quirk and float them over to the hand truck.

“Thanks.” You mutter, still digging through boxes with no real purpose. 

“Right.” He nods, then pats another box next to him. “This one too, if you wanna– you know,” He gestures towards the red metal contraption that’s slowly disappearing behind the growing tower of boxes.

“Sure.” Another one-worded reply.

Katsuki leans back against the dresser and watches in a mix of disbelief and awe as you pull out your cherry blossom snow globe from a box, shake it up and watch the petals dance. You look exactly the same as 5 years ago, but of course you do.

It’s absolutely surreal seeing you right in front of him after mourning you for so long, and he finds himself lost for words.

He hated the way you looked so broken when he left for the emergency the other day, and he didn’t want to leave things like that between you two, so he insisted on seeing you today to talk it out. He also just…wanted to see you again.

But now that you’re here, he doesn’t know where to even begin.

“I’m sorry.” is all he can muster.

“For what exactly?” You finally, finally look at him.

He doesn’t have an answer. And you seem to already know so.

“That’s the thing, Katsuki.” You try your darndest to keep your voice from breaking. “It hurts so damn much for me to look at you right now but at the end of the fucking day it’s not even your fault.”

A rolling wave of pain, guilt and longing crashes against the shore of Katsuki’s eyes, but he remains quiet.

“I can’t expect you to wait for me forever.” You weakly shake your head. “Yet I feel betrayed all the same. Utterly, pathetically betrayed.” You shove the snow globe back into its box and start pinching the bridge of your nose as incoming tears burn your nostrils.

Katsuki pushes off the dresser and makes his way over to you.

“I don’t give a fuck if it’s my fault or not.” He stops in front of you. “Go on, yell at me. It’ll make you feel better.” He grabs your wrist and holds it to his throat. “Punch me. Hell, you can float me to the top floor and fucking drop me, I can take it. Please.” He searches your eyes. “I know you’re hurting, so hurt me back.”

You wriggle your wrist until he lets go.

“I think I’ve already hurt you enough.”

Your tears are free falling now. Heavy globs of salty liquid trail down your cheeks, still puffy from the past days. Without thinking, Katsuki reaches up to wipe them, only for you to hastily step back.

“Hawks offered me a job, and I’m taking it. Don’t expect me back.” You practically run to the hand truck to strap the boxes in. “I’ll ask Shouto to get the rest of my stuff when I find a place. You and I should,” you sputter, hardly able to breathe properly. “We should stay far, far away from each other, or it’d be difficult for both of us.” You take a deep inhale. “And for your fiancé.”

You don’t bother to hide the bitterness behind that word. You see him open his mouth to plead your name but you cut him off.

“Goodbye, Katsuki.”

And with that, you turn away, the metal dolly dragging sluggishly behind you as you walk out of this agency for the last time.

[kwamiwayzz]

Jeckole Yapping

Had to dig through my old posts to find the template, but I'm bored and doing this again but for Jecka and Nicole this time. Mostly headcanons and such below

__

• When or if I started shipping it:

I'm going to be honest, but I don't remember. I only got into Co09 a few months ago. All I know is that once I watched the out of context videos on Class of '09 and Re-Up, I wanted more content of them and came across a lot of really good fanart and fanfic.

I think there were a lot of boxes checked off when I slowly went down the rabbit hole lol. There's an emotionally constipated dark-girl paired with a preppy blonde girl who acts as the former's foil. I think what really drew me into them, fanart aside, were the foils and parallels between them. The codependency, expanded upon by Progman, was probably the final nail that dragged me down the brainrot.

• My thoughts:

I've known about them for awhile, and thought they were some random white girls in a cult classic VN that somehow regained a surge of popularity last year. I didn't know the VN was relatively new, and most of the time when I do ship Jeckole, it's without the creator in mind. They have a certain flavor to them that hits in a way where I can't stop brainrotting over them.

Someone mentioned this in a fic comment, but they see them as foils when it comes to dealing with people and the world around them--where Nicole acts as this snarling animal that will bite you if you get too close, while Jecka acts as this wall that doesn't allow things to get to her even if it does bother her. In a way, they envy each other for that, and after reading that fic it reinforced why their dynamic is one that I gravitate towards compared to the others. They have pieces of each other that they're missing and they can't live without the other (I love codependent Jeckole).

• What makes me sad about them:

In-game, they probably wouldn't last after high school when they go their separate ways. As much as Nicole sees Jecka as a slightly more "special" person to her than most people at the school, their friendship is more for convenience--with Nicole finding Jecka to be more tolerable and cool compared to everyone else (along with the added bonus of not being a loner), and Jecka finding Nicole more fun to hang around with than all her other school friends despite knowing how much Nicole is a fucked up mess and bad influence. In-game Nicole is also someone who would continue to keep everyone at an arm's length and also wouldn't fight too hard (outside of the Jecka and counselor smoking scene) to maintain any meaningful relationships once they're out of her reach.

But also, who cares what the creator thinks because fanart and fanfic exists lmaoooooo.

• What makes me happy about them:

There's a scene in Flip Side where Nicole calls Jecka first thing in the morning at 7am asking her where McDonald's keeps their frozen patties, only for Jecka to say they don't have them because McD serves breakfast during those hours. Then Jecka calls Nicole stupid, and I just found that scene funny in an oddly comforting way.

Nicole is comfortable enough to bug Jecka and wake her up so early in the morning for something so mundane, while Jecka just stays on the phone listening to whatever antics she's in instead of hanging up immediately and going back to bed. I also mentioned this in another post, but someone on Twitter said the thing they love most about Jeckole is how Nicole was willing to get to know Jecka even after saying she has no desire to make any connections at her new school. It can be interpreted as a convenience thing on Nicole's end, but every route in the original game has her willing to either ask for Jecka's name or share her name when they first meet.

To me, their back and forth dynamic keeps them balanced enough to stay fucked up with the potential of becoming well-adjusted in the future.

• Things done in art/fic that annoys me:

There's a number of interpretations when it comes to the Co09 characters, so I understand it can be hard to write them. But for me personally, I'm not a fan of when Nicole is depicted as either way too nice and uncharacteristically soft or way too mean and following the stereotypical SBN interpretation that "Nicole doesn't give a shit about anyone or anything".

• Things I look for in art/fic:

When they're codependent :) or when they're codependent with a slight chance of them getting healthier over time. Also, just them being stupid together.

I'm also one of the few people (I haven't come across too many others yet) that seek out future Jeckole stuff. Whenever I picture them as adults, it's always aurawra21's art in mind.

• Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: 

I'm a monoshipper when it comes to Class of '09, so probably no one. It adds to that codependent flavor :) but if you want a real answer...

For Nicole, probably Emily.

For Jecka, probably Emily also.

• My happily ever after for them:

Moving out of their town, healing from their trauma, and getting healthier over time. Maybe they won't be better people exactly, but they'd at least be less fucked up and a little happier (with Nicole finding some will to keep living past 30) after cutting off their toxic families.

• What is their favorite activity?: 

Nicole forcing Jecka to watch Mythbusters and How It's Made with her (in exchange for watching Smallville and Charmed with Jecka). Also, probably smoking together, assuming that Jecka hasn't quit her smoking habit ten years later.

[sp1dermann0]

Dean Winchester x gn!reader

Summary: Challenging Dean in No Nut November 🙈

NSFW. Minors DNI. Not proof read, like all of my other works ❌

In honor of No Nut November, I wanted to make at least one piece this month about it. Ending is rushed 😭

When you first brought up No Nut November to Dean, he was confused. But when you explained in better detail, he was obliged to try it. In which that following week was a rollercoaster. You were gonna make it much harder for him. Or at least try to.

“It can’t be that hard, can it?” He asked. “To some it is, others it isn’t.” You answered, as you finished putting away a few bottles of water. Deciding to grab one for yourself once you were done. You heard a faint “hm” before you walked over to where he was sitting at the edge of the bed. Kicking the sides of his shoes to spread his legs a bit more for you to stand in between them. God, the way he looked at you made you want to pounce on the man. But no, you had to control yourself. So, you took a quick drink of your water bottle to help ease that feeling away. While you were twisting the cap shut, you felt Dean’s hands come to your hips. Just resting there. After a few seconds you tossed the bottle on the bed. Not caring where it ended up.

You took his face into your hands, watching as he practically melted against them. Then you moved to sit on his lap. His hands held you in a way to make sure you won’t fall back.

It was silent for a moment. Dean resting his head against your shoulder while you were zoned out thinking about…whatever. Then you finally made a move to kiss him. Tugging on his hair to get him off of your shoulder, then grabbing his chin to lean in for a kiss.

Just a small, gentle kiss turned into something way filthier. One of Dean’s hands moved to hold the side of your face. His other started to feel on your body. Just when you went to unzip his pants, he seemed to remember the challenge. Dean slowly pulled away from your lips then looked at you. The thought of not being able to have sex for a month pained him. He groaned and let his head fall to your shoulder. You tried to hold in a chuckle, but failed.

“It’ll be alright,” You begin. “I’m sure you can do it.” With that, you start to move to get off his lap. A sigh was heard, stopping the awaking silence of the room. You’re sure Dean probably rolled his eyes as well, you just decided to let out another laugh and ignore him.

A few days have passed since telling Dean about No Nut November. Those days were difficult due to you, but he pulled through. Whenever you got the chance you’d give slight touches, suggestive whispers, and many more things. He loved it. Dean went from tensing up whenever you were around to full blown ignoring you. Well, attempting to ignore you. Which was surprising considering…it was Dean you were talking about.

But then one day, he couldn’t take it anymore. So he shoved Sam out of the motel room; telling him to “Go get food.” You looked at him with pure confusion. Taking a final drink of your soda that you got from a nearby vending machine, then proceeding to put it down on the bedside table.

“You okay?” You asked, concern and worry slipping into your tone. “Yeah—no, I’m fine.” Dean replied, as he started walking toward you after shutting the door. Then finally, after all those days of prolonged torture, he grabbed you, pulled you in for a kiss, and moved toward the bed.

⭒

Clothes were being shed, heavy breathing could be heard, and bedding was being moved. Dean was on top of you, rubbing your side with one hand, and slowly jerking himself off with the other. You broke away from his lips, causing him to whimper. “You’re throwing the challenge this early into it?” You asked, suppressing a laugh. “Hey, I can last a few days…just not a month.” Dean replied, leaning back in for another kiss.

You rolled your eyes and kissed him back. A hand running down his chest and to his cock. When he felt you, he removed his hand and let yours take over. Pre was leaking from his tip and every time your hand went up, it collected it and was used as a replacement for lube. You wanted to try something. So of course you did it. Giving him a slow kiss, you moved your hand down his cock and to his balls. Dean gasped and jerked slightly, but stilled when you told him to. That’s when you gave a light tug and squeezed just a bit, then pulled away from his lips to see, or hear his reaction. It was like music to your ears. Dean let out a semi-loud moan and the face he made, made you want to do unspeakable things. But of course, you had to keep it slow. Or, more so wanted to just to “torture” him a bit longer. But you both knew that wouldn’t last long.

Your other hand went to his cock and started to give it attention. It twitched and throbbed for touch, and you gave it just that. All while your other hand was doing something else. Dean’s moans and whimpers just kept getting louder and louder. Surprisingly.

It came to a point you had to tell him to quiet down. You did not want a noise complaint.

You both decided to switch positions. Dean’s head hit the pillow with a soft thud. You were on top of him, straddling his thighs. Your breath ghosted over his jawline before you planted a kiss. It made Dean whimper.

His hands held onto your hips, holding onto them like his life depended on it. He watched as you reached over to grab something from your bag. Which was next to the bed, otherwise you’d have to get up. What you pulled out was a condom and lubricant. Then, you got off of him to prep yourself. Not even letting him do it just to “torture” him a bit longer. Dean watched you, rolling his eyes when he realized why you were doing it yourself. You took off the cap and squeezed some onto your fingers. It was cold, and the feeling made you cringe. But then you got into a position, pressed your finger against your hole, and pushed the tip in slowly.

Dean’s cock pulsed, it jumped at every little sound you made. When he reached down to touch himself, you looked at him and shook your head. Causing him to look at you some type of way and slowly retract his hand.

You were three fingers in (literally) before you pulled them out and moved to get onto Dean’s lap. You grabbed the condom with your free hand and raised it toward Dean. Gesturing for him to open it because you couldn’t at the moment. He furrowed his eyebrows at first, but then took it and opened it. Rolling it down onto his cock once he was done.

You hovered over his cock for a moment before going down slowly. His tip prodded at your hole before intruding into your heat. You closed your eyes and let out a small moan. With every inch that sunk deeper into you, you both let out noises of pleasure. Dean being the loudest.

When he bottomed out, you didn’t waste a second and started to move up. Dean pushed his head into your neck. Kissing his way up to your jaw. The room was filled with heavy breathing. With every movement that you did Dean got closer and closer to cumming. He gripped your hips tighter and let out a moan that went straight to your ears. The sound making yourself throb. Dean ended up cumming without a warning, the only “warning” you got was him moaning and practically whining in your ear.

You soon came after him—letting him know. You both sat still for a moment. Catching your breath and waiting till you’ve both calmed down. “You failed.” You teased, looking at him with a trying-to-be-hidden smile. “Shut up.” Dean responded, rolling his eyes. Then you soon moved to get up. Once you gathered yourself, you started cleaning things before Sam got back.