#he made so many jokes to his city and people continued to fall for them

[spleenomane]

"blorbo from my degree" is not just a tumblr user thing. My medieval latin professor has a blorbo from his degree, he's called Boncompagno and he was a 13th century university professor. My professor wrote 32 books and articles (I personally counted them) about Boncompagno, translated his works and has talked about him for the last two lectures and idk when he will stop

[g3llyfish]

"WINNING"

Sun Wukong x Reader

Best friends to lovers

Confessions, Fluff, Wukong being a clingy and jealous idiot

     Being best friends with the monkey king has it's cons and pros. The pros are being able to just hang out with Sun Wukong and his monkeys in Flower fruit mountain.

     The breeze, the view, the peacefulness of the mountain itself felt like a dream not to mention his company, the laughs that you both share made you forget about your city life..

     The cons? Him being a clingy baby towards you.

     "Are there really other friends other than me?" Wukong asks again with a pout.

     You two are currently having your daily hang outs underneath his peach tree near his humble abode, you two just rambling about random stuff until the topic of you being friends with other people came up.

     "Yes? Why'd you ask? Ofcourse I have other friends, furball" You roll your eyes as you continue to eat an orange.

     "But I'm your best friend right?" Wukong asks again.

     "Ofcourse you are, I don't travel across an ocean for anyone else" You confirmed and he gave you a satisfied hum.

     A comforting silence settles in-between them while you peel another orange for the monkey to take. He took it gladly, looking at it for a moment before taking a piece and eating it.

     "Do you have other best friends?" Wukong raises his brow at you making you sigh.

     "I mean... MK and Mei are my best friend, so yeah" You shrug at his question making him cross his arms together going back to his pouty self.

     To you, this is just one if his antics to bug you but even if Wukong is acting like he's joking around, half of him was serious.

     He looks up at you peeling another orange for yourself, totally oblivious to your surroundings not knowing how much the simian admired you.

     He could not explain it what you have done to him, a spell? A cantation? Did you use some magical artifact that made his heart beat everytime you smile at him, that made him nervous everytime you come over even when you two have hung out almost everyday of the week, and how he'd melt from your touch or your laugh.

     Knowing that there are many other people than him who is better for you, knowing that you wouldn't choose him cause he is nothing but your best friend made his heart ache.

     He can't stand seeing you with someone else... He can't bare the feeling of you finding someone who is better than him.

     Who could blame him? You're literally the most thoughtful person he has ever met, you always look out for people and you always find a way to make him laugh... You being the pretties person he met is just bonus.

     While he's just the Monkey King... A mischievous demon.

     He imagined every possibility of confessing his feelings to you, even just from thinking about it makes his heart sink.

     Hey, even if he does get rejected, atleast a weight is lifted off of him, right? Right?

     "Fine, fine they're an acception, but I'm special right?" Wukong asks again, desperately wanting you to say yes.

     You gave him a stare before answering, "yes, furball, you're very special" it sounded sarcastic but it you know that it was genuine at heart.

     "That means I'm your number one right? I mean, no one else is greater than me" Wukong says with a smug smirk.

     "Don't worry, Wukong, you don't have to fight anyone to be in first place, you'll always be my first" You say, eating another orange.

     Wukong looks at you with his eyes widening up from your response, his cheeks starts to turn red while he fidgets on the fruit.

     There you again, saying stupid stuff to make him fall deeper with no sign of escaping...

     "Well..." Wukong stayeds quiet for a few seconds, his heart beating loudly once again "what if I have competitions? Hm? What if there's other people wanting to be your first?"

     "I don't think so..." You thought for a moment "you already won being my first place, my best friends of all my best friends, Are you that needy?"

     "W-what?! No!" "Aww! The Monkey king is needy for a mortal's attention!"

     Wukong's cheeks starts to spread across his cheeks to his ears while his tail flinches from your teasing.

     He scratches his arms nervously, hesitating about confessing cause of you friendzoning him. Biting the inside of his cheek, overthinking about the whole situation.

     "It's not that you dumbass!" Wukong shoves you away playfully, laughing a bit at your antics.

     "Yeah... Yeah, sure, your highness" 

     "I'm just saying, what if I want to win more?" Wukong watches you peel another orange.

     "What do you mean? What's there to win? You already won first place" "what if... I want to win you?"

     You took a piece of an orange and looks at the monkey king in confusion, your cheeks grows pink from his explanation.

     "What do you mean?" You put down your orange, giving your full attention to the monkey.

     "What if..." Wukong voice falters softly as he stutters and looks down on the ground.

     "What? I didn't hear you..." 

     Wukong took a moment, his heart starts to pound on how embarrassed and nervous he is, he tried to calm before looking up at you again.

     Gosh... Those eyes are to melt for

     "W-what if..." His words trails again, he scratches the back of his neck and swallows his pride "W... what if I want to win your heart?"

     Your cheeks starts to fume red, you were too flustered to speak, opening and closing your mouth trying to think of what to say.

     "What did you say?" You asked for a confirmation, still not believing that this is real.

     "What if..." Wukong sighs out trying to compose himself.

     "what if I want to win your heart? Your mind?" He repeats "your kiss...?"

     You two took a moment, an awkward moment to realize what Wukong had just said. Both of your cheeks starts to get brighter.

     "Uahaha! What came over me? I don't know either myself! I'm just joking though, don't mind me being a silly monkey--" "then win it"

     "What?" Wukong gave you a dumbfounded look, the orange piece dropping to the ground, shocked at your answer.

     "Then win it, win your kiss" You tease him again but inside you were panicking yourself.

     You have no idea if the orange haired simian, your heart beats faster as your face flushes, it was hard for you to look up at his eyes but would you avoid this opportunity to finally having your crush's intention? I think not.

     Even if it was playful flirting like what you two do from the past, you'd take the risk.

     Wukong on the other hand is having a mental breakdown in his head, like little monkeys are running around his brain panicking on what to do or what to say.

    His breath hitches before finally speaking up, "Can... Can I win it now?" He asked making you laugh a bit.

     "You're... really impatient, aren't you?" "Shut up! I'm nervous okay?!"

     You laugh a bit at his flustered state making him grumble under his breath, how come him? The Monkey King, one of the strongest being that could exist on earth feel so weak in your gaze?

     "If you want to win, I'm not stopping you" you leaned forward, taking the sight of his red face into view.

     Wukong felt himself get closer to you as he fixes your hair to get a better look at you [E/C] eyes and puts his hand on your cheek, his hands hesitating its every move.

     His eyes shifted towards your lips and back at your eyes, finding a signal or anything that says 'kiss me'. You slightly nod for him.

     His lips quivered as it presses on your's, a sigh of relief when he felt you kiss back. You could feel his tail wrapping itself around your waist as an attempt to pull you closer towards him.

     The kiss was short, it was considered as a mere peck until he went in for another but this time it was lon.

     Both of Wukong's hands on your cheeks held you in place, he is the monkey after all once he has what he wants he can't let it go.

     He could feel his heartbeat ring through his ears as both your lips synchronized with one another, your hand wrapping around his wrist to convince him to keep going.

     Yet he had to break the kiss for you both to catch some air, he smiles at seeing your flushed face, sighing at the feeling that he finally got to kiss the person he loves the most. He swears that the feeling of your kiss lingers even after pulling away.

     You both looked at eachother's eyes as you lean into Wukong's hand feeling his rough warm hand on your cheek making him chuckle.

     "Guess I won the kiss," Wukong says breathly, breaking the silence between both of you "I just have to win you now"

     "To be honest, I should've win you first before winning the kiss" Wukong commented, wearing an awkward smile making you giggle.

     "You furball..." You say, rolling your eyes before giving him a quick peck making him squeak in surprise by the sudden kiss, his cheeks flushing once again.

     "You already did"

[pyjamaart]

My version of a Fully Charged Aquaman :D

You all know that Aquaman is one of my favorite robot masters. And since he didn't appear in Fully Charged, I spontaneously decided to imagine what he could have looked like. I had a vague color palette, the word aquarium and some free time, so I made it happen.

This version of Aquaman used to work at a water treatment plant (maybe even together with Waveman), but quit his job because he was following his dream of becoming a famous comedian. That dream didn't really work out, since all of his jokes were sewage related and most people couldn't stand them, leading to Aquaman being banned from pretty much any stage in the entire city.

With his hopes and dreams crushed, he started trying to come up with other business ventures to keep him afloat, which eventually led him to build aquariums for a living. But not just boring pet shop aquariums, no no, ginormous, fancy, if slightly tacky aquariums for rich people. Like in that show that's very similar to "cake boss", but instead of giant, shitty cardboard cakes they build giant, shitty aquariums. That's the kind of stuff Aquaman sells to people.

Eventually, he gets really into it, even though at the back of his mind there will always be jokes about shitting ones self.

Now you may be asking "Why does he keep fish in his body? Isn't this animal cruelty?" and you may be right about that, IF they were living, breathing fish, but in actuality, all the fish Aquaman puts in his aquariums are robot fish. Even the ones he always carries around in his body. They're like his little companions. They have different personalities, always judge him when he makes stupid mistakes... Like true friends.

Now for all of you people hungry for robot yaoi... You all know that I'm really into shipping Aquaman with Woodman. And even in the Fully Charged continuity, I'm gonna make exactly that happen.

I feel like they have a similar dynamic to their classic counterparts, as in, Woodman is the only person to laugh at Aquamans stupid jokes, which makes Aquaman fall head over heels for him. Though in Fully Charged, Woodman is quite the troubled individual (paranoia and trust issues), so it's probably gonna take a little time for Aqua to get through to him.

Aquaman also used to be friends with Drillman Sr., after spending many days building and maintaining the giant aquarium in his (former) company building, before he sold it off to Skyraisers Inc., who got rid of the aquarium shortly after they bought it. I feel like he exclusively calls "our" Drillman "Junior" or something, to differentiate between him and his old friend.

Aaaaand I think that's all I wanted to tell you about him. I have a few more ideas for Fully Charged versions of classic robot masters, like Needleman, Swordman and Flashman. Maybe I'll draw them some time in the future. But if I don't manage to do that, I could tell you a little bit about one of them here: So Needleman, for example. I said on a post here a while back that I think Drillman probably got his affinity for music from his mother, or in this case, his (second) dad. I also said that whoever his second parent was is not in his life anymore. Not because they died or anything, but because they were sick of Drillman Seniors shit. I mean, understandable.

Some time ago I joked that Fully Charged Drillman inherited the looks of Classic Drillman and the crippling depression of Classic Needleman, lol. So I decided to turn that joke into my actual headcanon.

My Fully Charged version of Needleman was a punk musician, who got his name from the studded leather jacket he always wore and the needles on his head that were arranged in a way similar to a mohawk. I imagine he and Drillman Senior had a loooot of differences, which eventually led him to leave the country to kickstart his career as a musician shortly after they had Drillman (Junior). Man, the fact that they both share a name sucks so much when I'm trying to write about them. But yeah, that's even more fuel to Drillmans already giant pile of daddy issues.

I've rambled enough again. I promise to deliver you more robot yaoi by the end of the week. Probably. (It's Fireman and Waveman btw.)

Jenny out.

[thezombieprostitute]

Changing Minds - Part 1

Summary: Your long time work acquaintance Nick Fowler offers to take you to a fancy fundraiser as a way of cheering you up. He insists it's only as friends but when he sees you falling into the grasp of someone he knows is no good, he might change his mind on that.

Word Count: ~1200

Warnings: Implied violence and attempted murder. Please let me know if I missed any.

A/N: Reader is an older female (late 30's +). This is part of the Garbage Men AU. I'm not yet sure if this will be a full series or just a two part story.

Part 2

Series Masterlist

Nick pulled up to the City Clerk’s offices. He had all the off times memorized so he could always get a good parking spot. He had some clues to follow up on with McMann. 

He also had your work schedule memorized so he knew he'd get the right help. He once made the mistake of thinking someone else could help him while you were on vacation. Never again. Thankfully your quiet demeanor didn't seem to extend to him and you would let him know when you'd be out, barring a sick day here or there.

He’d asked you before about why you worked so many hours. “You have seniority here. Have some of the younger people work the overtime.”

“They’re just kids,” you chide him. “Let them enjoy life a little. If they want the overtime, they get it but I’m happy to see them actually having lives. If I can help keep the world from breaking them so quickly I’ll happily do it.”

Nick smiled at the memory of your conversation. The smile dropped when he walked up to your desk and noticed your red, puffy eyes; your trash bin filled with tissues. “What happened,” he asked. 

“Oh,” you sniffle, “it’s just some allergies is all.”

“You’ve never had allergies before. What happened?”

“It doesn’t matter, Nick,” you objected. “Now, how can I help you?”

“You can help me by telling me what happened.”

You tried to stare him down but knew from experience it would be a losing battle. When Nick wanted answers, he got them somehow or another. You sag your shoulders and tell him, “you remember I was visiting family recently?” He nods. “I…my ex-boyfriend…hooked up with my sister. They got married last month and no one told me. It was a big wedding, too.” 

Nick nods in sympathy, “no notice or anything. Doesn’t sound like good family to me.”

You agree, “and I know it shouldn’t bother me. He is an ex-boyfriend after all. But…it still hurts. My sister said they didn’t tell me because they didn’t want me to ruin their special day by being upset.” You laugh harshly, “I guess I’m just proving their point.”

“No,” Nick demurred. “They are in the wrong here. Someone should have at least told you they were together. I’m sorry they hurt you.”

You sniffle, “thanks Nick. It’s nice to have someone on my side.” You smile up at him and he smiles back. “Anyways, what are you here for? How can I help you?”

The two of you easily step into your usual work rhythm. You spend a couple hours finding all the documents Nick is looking for, getting them scanned, and everything else he needs. The work is intermingled with the occasional joke or story. You and Nick have gotten along well ever since he learned you could help him with the most detailed of requests. Where others would give him a binder to sort through, you seemed to always know where in the binder the exact information was. Nick appreciated that kind of skill. 

As he’s wrapping to go he takes another glance at the tissues in your trash bin, a reminder of your tears and hurt. He turns to you and asks, “have you heard the phrase “the best revenge is living well”? It’s not the exact line, but you get the sentiment.” You shake your head no and he continues, “I know you don’t like hurting people but I don’t think you should wallow in your pain. Your best option to get revenge on your family for excluding you is to, well, live well. Show them they didn’t hurt you as much as they think.”

“That’s a nice idea, Nick, but my life is so dull I don’t know that I can.”

“Well,” he hesitates, “I’ve got a charity event coming up. It’s nothing too fancy, not a black-tie thing. But I could use a plus one.” Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “It’s not a date,” he quickly assures. “I just get tired of inane conversation and could use a friend to help me out.”

“Why go at all if you don’t enjoy it?”

“Work requirement. My bosses want me to schmooze a few people. Having you with me might actually be helpful. If you’re up for it.” You consider his words and he goes on, thinking to sweeten the deal, “the drinks are free, you can dress up, and maybe you’ll meet someone who’ll help you completely forget about that ex of yours.”

You smile, “you know what, Nick? That sounds absolutely lovely.”

The day of the event you get the notification from Nick telling you he’s outside your building. When you step outside he immediately spots you and his eyebrows raise.

“Is..is something wrong with my dress,” you ask.

“Not a thing,” he whispers. “I just…I never would’ve figured you to have something so…high class.”

“Oh, yeah,” you smile, heat hitting your cheeks. “I honestly was never expecting to have an opportunity to wear it. But sometimes you just need to treat yourself. I’d sometimes put the dress on and walk around my apartment just because it made me feel pretty.”

“Well, please allow me to confirm that you are very pretty,” Nick smiles as he opens the car door for you. You thank him as you get in, completely unaware of Nick’s internal dialogue about whether or not to make this an actual date. 

Nick continues to be a gentleman as you arrive at the event. He opens your door for you and offers his arm to walk you inside. You eagerly accept, surprised at how beefy his arm feels. He generally wears long sleeves so you had no idea he was hiding so much muscle. 

You walk inside and breathe a little easier when you see that Nick was right in saying it wasn’t an overly formal affair. Part of you had worried you would be under-dressed. Nick walks you around, showing you where things are (especially the open bar), and answering your questions about the event’s etiquette. Remembering that you’re supposed to be here as just friends, once you’re comfortable, you let Nick get to work and wander around on your own.

Nick is trying to focus on his work, getting intel and talking up influential people. But he makes sure to keep an eye out for you, making sure you’re having fun. He finishes up a conversation and hears you laughing loudly before quickly trying to muffle yourself. Nick smiles as he looks for you, but it quickly drops when he sees who you’re with. 

Clark Kent, nicknamed Man of Steel because of his near monopoly of the industry. His union busting and bribery has kept him on top and made him richer than any one man should be. Nick’s been working for the Family to try to find anything that can bring him down. Unfortunately, he’s bulletproof. Nothing sticks and he gets to keep his incredibly clean record and reputation. And he’s chatting you up, making you laugh. 

Part 2

Series Masterlist

Please let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

@alicedopey

[officialleehadan]

Light the Beacons

This isn’t HGE but it’s got a similar flavor. No idea where it came from. Might or might not continue it.

+++

“Enough of this.”

The battle was all but lost. Ice crept towards the castle in an oncoming wave of daggers, controlled by enemies that no mage could hope to face. The cruelties of winter, whispered about in the oldest stories, had revealed themselves at last.

To think, humanity once told stories of the walking trees, of the ancient monsters that hunted the furthest northern forests, and laughed to themselves that they had conquered the world.

That was before a war no one remembered any longer blackened the skies. Before the bombs fell. Before the summer became a story that they told in the same breath as fairytales. Before sunlight became rare, and precious, and barely warm enough to feel, but still so welcome.

That was before the monsters of legend crept back out of hiding. They ended the fight with their own glee at the scattered, broken, people who now fought to survive. People-eaters, many of them. Eager for new, weak prey that knew not how to battle them back.

Not all of the monsters were cruel though, and a few, a very few, were the saving of humanity in those early days.

Dryads could be bribed, sometimes. Them and the beings of the gentler lands. Cradled in humanity’s few bastions of light, where the sun showed itself sometimes, beneath the great swirling dust storms. Greenhouse domes provided food the world desperately needed, tended by people who once spent their lives on other things.

The monsters though, they returned as well, and they were a threat that humanity was not prepared for.

But even in the end of the world, love will find a way.

Helix, whose real name was unpronounceable by anyone with a human tongue, appeared first as a human among the masses of people seeking refuge in the great walled cities that rose up as humanity fortified. He was not the only inhuman creature to slip through the hasty safeguards that were put on the gates, but he was by far the most dangerous.

After all, a dragon was a formidable force and not one that could easily be faced, even by the few weapons the city still boasted.

It was fortunate that he was injured when he arrived, and the first person he met was the son of the mayor, who had been a doctor before the bombs fell, and survived the fallout only to spend his days working to help the needy who desperately prayed for any sense of the lives they once lived.

With gentle hands and kind jokes and an easy smile, Alexi made friends with what he thought was just one more person beneath his hands. With a softness few allowed themselves, he fell in love with a ragged young man who joined him in the medic tents and promised, oddly serious, that the city would never again need to fear the monsters beyond the walls.

It was an empty promise, Alexi thought at the time, but he accepted his new friend’s promises, and later his kisses when friendship turned to stealing what little happiness was left to them between long hours and desperate times. Alexi held his lover close when monsters stormed the walls and took comfort in the strange heat of Helix’s tall body as their death came towards them in unspeakable, howling throngs.

Until Helix turned, a strange, sad smile on his face as he kissed Alexi, slow and sweet and heartbreaking in a way that Alexi could not truly name.

“I promised you,” he had whispered, and then he stepped forward to the edge of the wall. “I promised this city would never fall.”

Alexi screamed his name when Helix leapt from the walls and screamed again for a different reason when his lover, tan-skinned and broad-shouldered, always too warm and with eyes that seemed to glow when the light hit them, wreathed himself in flames as he fell.

When he rose again, it was as a creature of myth, with fire between his teeth.

For all Alexi’s imaginings as a child, as he read books and watched movies that spoke of dragons, he never truly understood the power of a dragon in full rage.

Helix made pass after pass on blue wings, marked with ripples of silver that followed the edge of each scale until he almost resembled a flying treasure trove of sapphires, set in silver.

At least, he was silver, until he unleashed the fury of the fire in his chest, and turned his glittering silver edges to liquid gold, dancing in the heat of his flames.

The land around the city burned as he swooped low, white flames trailing from his jaws. The monsters cringed back and tried to flee, but he chased them, ignored the way they flung great spies at him. ignored the ruby blood that showered free when they scored hits that bit through even his sapphire armor.

The sky was orange now, the hot flames reflected off the ever-present haze until all the world seemed to burn.

It wasn’t until the monsters finally retreated, their numbers devastated by the flames of a single dragon who would not allow his home to fall, that Helix finally came to ground.

His cry of pain pushed Alexi through any fear he might have had, and he ran to his dragon’s side, his medical kit in one hand, and a blanket, for all the good it might do, in the other.

When Helix trembled, bloodied and exhausted but triumphant, at his approach, Alexi knew he made the right choice.

(Are you afraid of me now?) Helix whispered in his mind as Alexi tried to find some way to stem the blood from Helix’s many wounds, taken defending the people who now watched him in terror from the high walls. Walls which would do nothing against a dragon, but for that dragon’s love for them and the people within. (I am a monster like the ones you fear.)

“In scales or skin, you’re mine,” Alexi promised, surprised by his own fierceness and the truth of his words. He knew this man. This dragon. He knew how Helix kissed, and the way his blue eyes went soft when he played with the children, and the shine of fire on silver and sapphire scales. “I know you, in this form or any other.”

Helix huffed, something like a laugh if it was in a smaller body, and trembled again. At first, Alexi feared he was giving in to his injures, but instead, he was shrinking down, his scales fading away until there was nothing but torn clothing and tanned skin behind and Helix looked as he had when Alexi first met him, down in the hastily-built medical tents.

“This city and the people here are my Hoard and my treasure,” he whispered when Alexi wrapped the blanket around his shoulders and held his lover close despite the blood, and the way his skin was fever-hot with the fire inside him. “But you are my heart and I swear to you, no monster will ever come to this place again.”

[daemour]

Pairing: Hongjoong x Reader

Genre: Angst, superhero/villain au, bnha inspired magic system, university au

WC: 5210

Warnings: Cursing, mentioned character death, implied and attempted murder, injuries, just generally angst all around. Sad endings if you interpret it that way lol

Summary: Big cities are falling apart as more and more supervillains focus their attention to larger conquests. In desparation, the city of Seoul created a university for aspiring heros, in hopes of bringing the rate of crime back down. But with a spy in their midst, their plans may come crashing down on them.

For the villains collab hosted by @sanjoongie​ <3 here’s a playlist i made for it

-

“(Y/N), you’ve been assigned a co-teacher. He’s starting out with you to learn the ropes but next year he’ll be on his own.”

You take in the young man you’ll be working with for the next year. He doesn’t look old at all, not like most of the other professors in the college, and for a moment you wonder if they meant that he will be your new TA.

“Hello, I’m Kim Hongjoong. It’s nice to meet you,” he greets, holding out his hand. “You must be (Y/N).”

“Mmh, what gave it away?” you joke and Hongjoong laughs lightly.

“Just an informed guess. It’s good to know I wasn’t paired with one of the older sticklers. I’m sure you’ll be a great mentor for me too.”

You hum noncommittally before realising you haven’t shaken his hand yet. “Off to a great impression, too,” you say with a smile, taking his hand. His handshake is firm, and you get the feeling that you’ll get along with him.

-

You and Hongjoong are on lunch break when one of the other teachers, a professor of the study of quirks, Park Seonghwa, bursts into your shared office.

“Hey, I hate to interrupt your lunch, but there’s an emergency staff meeting in the lounge.”

Hongjoong glances at you, and with a nod, the two of you follow Seonghwa into the hall.

Although it’s only been a few months since Hongjoong was assigned to your class, you have become quick friends with him. There was something about his blunt but caring nature that you admired. His work ethic was always on point, and although he’s a little strict during class, the students love him anyway. You’re glad you got the chance to work with him.

When the three of you reach the staff lounge, the college president is there, shocking both you and Hongjoong. Yonghwan Kim is a rare sight, meaning that this is an important meeting.

His eyes follow you and Hongjoong until you both take a seat. “I’m sure you’re all wondering why I called you for this unexpected assembly. As you know, this university was founded to combat the rise of supervillains in Seoul.” Murmurs break out all around and many professors tense at the reminder, Hongjoong included. Many of them had lost family members because of that, so you can’t blame them.

“Sir,” the science professor and practical quirk test proctor, Kang Yeosang, speaks up, “is something wrong with the college?”

Yonghwan shakes his head. “No. Although we’ve only been through two sets of graduates so far, it’s already dramatically helping curb crime rates. All our students have been brimming with potential, even those that are quirkless. And that’s where the problem lies.” He clears his throat before continuing. “There has been some intel…and with the addition of a tip-off note, there is speculation that a major supervillain group, HalAteez, has planted a spy here.”

Those words send a ripple of shock through the lounge, and several people start arguing indignantly. But one question sticks out for you, and it comes from Hongjoong, sitting right by you.

“What does this entail for us?”

“Ah, Hongjoong, right?” Yonghwa looks at him with a sad smile on his face. “I’m sorry you had to join us during this chaos. But as this is not confirmed and the information is to be classified, I would like you all to continue with classes as usual. Don’t let the students know of this. The government will send  someone to keep an eye on security for us, so I must ask you all to keep gossip to a minimum.”

You’re frowning, biting at your lower lip in worry. A spy? Here?

As if sensing your worry, Hongjoong shifts towards you and takes your hand, and you squeeze it tight, thankful for the distraction. Being quirkless has always been worrisome, especially living in a big city. This new development at your workplace only makes you more uneasy, but just holding Hongjoong’s hand helps quell your fears.

-

In the upcoming weeks, everyone is on edge. Some hide it better than others, but you know you’re stressing out too much. Thankfully, Hongjoong seems to have a better hold on his poker face than you, and your class chalks it up to the upcoming exam season.

Every so often, the government agent, whose name you learn is Choi San, Choi San with an affinity towards fire will stand in the back of the lecture hall during your classes which does not help your nerves. He has a kind face, but the look in his eyes reminds you exactly why he’s here.

Yet, nothing out of the ordinary has happened, which has served to lessen your anxiety by a little. You don’t know what the hell a spy could want here. Most supervillains already have been through specialised colleges and know exactly what they bring to the table.

When you’re dismissing your class, San approaches you, the look on his face unreadable. “Excuse me, Miss (L/N)? May I speak to you?” Hongjoong lingers behind your desk, and San shoots him a look. “In private?” he adds on.

You nod lightly at Hongjoong, giving him the go-ahead, and he leaves with one last worried look towards you. San smiles, but it’s an emotionless one, and your heart almost stops at the stress of being alone in a room with him.

“What can I help you with, Mr San?”

“Mmh, just San is fine,” he says, and you think to yourself that you will not be calling him just San. “Now, I have a few questions for you, and then you can be on your way.”

You nod. “Please, have a seat,” you offer, gesturing to Hongjoong’s swivel chair, but San ignores that and instead plants his butt on your desk. Your eyebrow twitches.

“Now, if I read correctly, you have been working here for about eight years?” You nod. It will be your work anniversary next month. “And how do you like it here?”

“Uh…I like it. My coworkers are all very nice, and I enjoy teaching my students. They’re very active, which is surprising since it’s a history class.” You’re stuttering, awkward. These questions don’t seem like ones he would ask. But what would you know? You’re not a government agent.

“Tell me about Hongjoong.”

Your eyes widen. “Sorry?”

“The other professor for this class. Tell me about him.”

“Uh. Well, he’s great with the kids. And very kind. He’s pretty new, but he’s also helped teach at other colleges. He doesn’t particularly specialise in superhero history, so next year he’ll be teaching the general education course instead of me taking both courses simultaneously. .”

There’s not much to say about Hongjoong. Although the two of you have friendly conversations during lunch and enjoy each other’s company, it’s not what you call a friendship. “Hmm, well, thank you for your time. I will see you around,” San concludes, hopping off your desk and heading out the door faster than you can blink.

Hongjoong comes in almost immediately after with sandwiches in his hand, probably seeing through the window that the two of you were still talking and waiting. “Hey, how was it? I got you your usual sandwich, no mayo, right?”

You take the food gratefully and bite into it. “Thank you.” He’s still waiting for answers so you finish chewing as fast as possible. “He just asked me how long I’ve worked here, how the students are, and how I liked my coworkers. Oh! He asked me about you too.”

Hongjoong’s eyebrow raises. “Me?”

You nod, mouth full of sandwich again. “Yeah, it was weird. Like, why not just ask you himself? But don’t worry. I said nothing bad!” You smile while leaning over to poke at his shoulder. “If anything, he was annoying cus he planted his butt on the desk when I offered him a chair.”

Hongjoong lets out a laugh at that, a bright sound. “That might be the strangest thing he’s done, and that’s saying something.”

You hum, leaning back in your chair and staring contemplatively at the ceiling. You don’t like this new development at the college you’ve come to call your second home, but there’s nothing you can do about it, it seems.

-

You’re at home today. There was a bomb threat, and the college was evacuated save for Yonghwan, a few of the board members, Choi San, and the bomb squad. You can’t seem to stay still this time, though. Thankfully the threat was sent before classes had started so Yonghwan had passed it off as a teacher holiday, and the students were unsuspicious.

But as time passed, you started to question whether that was a good idea. Of course, as a new college, it was important to keep its image clean, but at what point would it become dangerous for the students? They should at least be aware something is happening, or why San is there, to keep their gossip to a low.

When you refresh your emails for the nth time this hour, you finally see an update from Yonghwan. The bomb threat was from a rejected student who had been apprehended and will be facing serious consequences. Nothing to worry about.

And then when you come back to class tomorrow, another man is standing with Choi San in the back of your class.

The hair on your neck rises, and it’s Hongjoong’s day off so you can’t even rely on him to help you cover your nervousness. You’re sure the class had to have noticed something, but when you end by giving them an essay, they file out as if nothing has happened. Either you’re much better at acting than you remember, or they aren’t nosy.

And then the worst possible scenario you could’ve imagined happens. The stranger and San make their way towards you. (You’re a little dramatic.) “(Y/N), meet Jongho. Because of the rising tension and new intel, he’ll be assigned to your class and report back to me if  anything is suspicious. Please let Hongjoong know of this new development too.”

You can only manage a nod. This is not something you wanted to happen. You had hoped this whole spy thing would blow over, and you could go back to normal, but this is even worse than you thought.

“Nice to meet you,” you offer Jongho a hand, and he takes it, shakes it, and drops it just as fast. Great. At least San would pretend to be nice.

“Now, just so I can get an idea of who I will be watching, I’m going to ask you a few questions.” Oh, God. You nod, gesturing to a chair, and at least this time, Jongho takes it. San leaves quietly, and for some reason, you feel even more worried without him here.

“Now, you teach the specialised history class, correct? I’ll need a copy of your curriculum taught throughout the year.” You nod, gathering your papers and writing a reminder on a sticky note. “Please give them to me by tomorrow. Now, tell me about your coworkers.”

You bite your lip. You don’t feel comfortable giving out all this information about people you’ve come to call your friend, but you just want this to be over with. And so, you do your best. You tell them about their families and what they’ve told you, although you try to keep your tone light and paint them in a good light. Jongho seems unphased.

When it comes to Hongjoong, you stumble on your words. As you speak of him Jongho leans forward, his interest piqued. Your heart rate spikes. When he decides he’s had enough, he’s at the door in a blink of an eye, thanks to his quirk, and disappears from your sight.

Hongjoong is sweet, always buying you a coffee on the mornings you have early classes, but some of the things he says you feel might get him under watch. So you make a conscious decision to protect him. You can feel the guilt building in your stomach, but it’s for a good cause. The government is known to go after even the smallest of missteps with words, and you don’t want that to happen to the professor you’ve grown fond of.

-

When the day is almost over, you call Hongjoong. “Hey, are you home right now?”

“Uh, yeah?” Hongjoong is confused. “Why, what’s up?”

“I need to talk to you. Can I come  over? I would ask to meet at a cafe, but this is important.” Your voice shakes slightly.

“Uh…sure. I’ll text you my address. Is something wrong?”

“I’ll tell you later,” you manage to say before ending the call and running your hands through your hair. You can’t believe you’re doing this, but although guilt is filling you up, you know this is something you must do.

You book it as soon as your phone rings with Hongjoong’s address. It’s close enough that you don’t need to take the bus and don’t want to pay for a taxi. You’ve never run this much before that when you get to his apartment building, your legs are burning, and you think your heart might pop out of your chest. You probably didn’t even need to run but sometimes you don't think.

Taking a deep breath, you ring the buzzer and hope you do not look like a fool. “(Y/N), come on up,” you can hear him say.

When Hongjoong opens the door, he laughs at your dishevelled appearance. “Did you run here?” He’s joking, but when you nod his expression changes from amused to worried. “You did? What on earth happened?”

“I…” you can hardly speak clearly “...need to sit for a moment,” is what comes out instead of what you meant to say.

A moment passes before you and Hongoong start laughing—although yours sounds more like a dying horse with asthma.

“Come in and catch your breath. I’ll get you some water.” He steps to the side, letting you enter and almost collapse on the couch he points you to.

As he leaves, you take in his small but cosy apartment. It’s barely decorated, just a few picture frames here and there, but it doesn’t seem like lazy planning. Instead, it was very chic. The picture frame on the coffee table depicts who you assume to be Hongjoong as a child, and curiosity wins you over, and you pick it up.

The picture is in black and white but it doesn’t detract from the bright smile of the boy in the image.

“I think that was from when I was four,” Hongjoong says from behind you, and you jump a little.  “Ah, don’t worry, I don’t mind. I put them out anyways, it’s not like I tried to hide it. Now, what was it you wanted to tell me?”

He hands you the mug of water and you take it gratefully. “I just wanted to let you know what happened in class today. We now have a specialised agent, Choi Jongho, watching our class. He was being a little nosy, especially about you. I just wanted to warn you.”

Hongjoong watches with a kind smile on his face. “Thank you. San has been speaking with me recently, but I’ve noticed he’s also been keeping his eyes on Yeosang. He probably thinks it's one of us.”

You sigh, biting your lower lip. “Yeah…I hate this.” You bury your head in your hands, letting out a deep sigh as Hongjoong leans forward in worry. “It’s just…so different from how the world was. Of course, there will always be crime, but sometimes I feel scared to leave my apartment.”

Hongjoong hums in understanding, pulling your hand away from your face. “I totally get that. The feeling of having to hide and having to watch what you say, it’s a hard burden to bear. Thank you for warning me. I’ll keep an eye out.”

His reassurances are so comforting. When you look at him with watery eyes, you feel like you can trust this man with your life. Even though you know this is almost 100% a bad idea, you lean in and brush your lips against his. But instead of jerking back, Hongjoong leans into it.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble against his soft lips. “I know this is such a bad idea, but I–”

“Shh,” Hongjoong says, pulling back a little, but his hands have found their way to your face. “It’s quite alright. I…understand you and feel you. It’s all right.”

And with those words, you fall into him more profoundly than ever.

-

“How was work today, love?” Hongjoong greets you at the door, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek as he hangs up your coat.

Lately, the two of you have had time to only chat at home on his off days. Both of you were worried that Jongho would overhear and misunderstand something. And hiding this relationship was thrilling as well. Maybe you would even have teased him if it was under any other circumstances.

But in this world, you can’t help but hide. As much as you want to scream and shout, you cannot. You know the consequences.

And as much as it hurts you, you can’t even talk to Seonghwa about it. Although he’s your coworker, you trust him almost as much as you trust Hongjoong, but every time you open your mouth, suddenly fear strikes you and you snap it shut just as quickly. Seonghwa’s sweet, but how would you know he wouldn’t talk to Jongho or San just because?

“It was okay,” you say with a sigh. “Jongho was being nosy yet again and it’s getting harder to keep away from his questions.”

Hongjoong hums, his face pressed against the side of your head. “Don’t worry, honey. I won’t let anything happen. I’ll be safe.”

“Okay,” you say slowly, unsurely, like cotton has filled your mouth. You’re just so stressed but it doesn’t stop you from pressing a kiss to Hongjoong’s lips.

For the past couple of months, all the two of you have done is just talk about work, share worries and confide in each other. It’s exhilarating to have this close of a relationship with someone, and every day you fall just a bit more in love with Hongjoong. His love is all you’ll need if everything goes wrong.

“Mmh, tomorrow, let’s have a lunch date?” Hongjoong suggests, and you agree eagerly. Although you eat together as usual in the office, you are still at school and cannot do anything too outwardly. But this time, you can go out and have lunch at a cafe.

Except on the day of, the two of you are walking together when San suddenly materialises in front of you. “Are you two heading out?” he asks, although it’s not a question. “Do you mind if I join you for lunch?”

You glance at Hongjoong to see what he’ll do, and all he does is nod slightly, no emotion showing on his face.

That’s how the two of you end up eating lunch with the terrifying Choi San. He’s trying to make conversation, but you can hardly bring yourself to speak, so Hongjoong takes care of most of it for you.

An assembly including the students is called, and you make your way over slowly, with Hongjoong close behind. You feel so useless, hardly able to help the government, unable to keep yourself together without Hongjoong…what happened to you?

“(Y/N)!” Seonghwa waves you over, and you shoot him a smile, heading over with a spring in your step. “Hey, Hongjoong.” His voice is considerably less cherry as he takes in the sight of your boyfriend.

Although your relationship was hidden, Seonghwa still didn’t seem to warm up to Hongjoong very much. He’s always polite, of course, but something about Hongjoong makes Seonghwa much colder than you were used to, one of the reasons you were always scared to tell Seonghwa exactly what you and Hongjoong were up to.

“Seonghwa.” And Hongjoong’s attitude is almost exactly the same. Neither man likes the other and you can’t tell why. But it’s not the issue you have to think about right now.

Yonghwa gets everyone’s attention just by clearing his throat. Commanding everyone’s attention comes easily to someone with his quirk. “Now, I am here to let you all know about what has been happening. I know you may have been confused about all these new people but I just want to clear something up. We are not in any danger.”

In some ironic twist, fire rains down on the building just as the words leave his mouth. Teachers and government agents do their best to shield the students, but this was a premeditated attack, and they go down first. Where is this even coming from?

Students are freaking out, and even Yonghwa’s calm voice does nothing to keep the panic rising in everyone’s throats. Hongjoong is busy talking with other professors, trying to get a hold of the situation, and you jump into action, ushering students away from the centre of danger and into the hallway, telling them to hide in classrooms and put up the emergency shields in each one.

But you’re one person corralling many people, and it’s so overwhelming. You’re useless in this situation, but you grit your teeth and bear it. Even the smallest thing can save one person and that’s all that matters.

You escort a handful of students through the hall when you hear it first before you feel it. A tremendous blast of energy strikes the building and the foundation shakes so hard you’re almost knocked off your feet.

“Get to the auditorium, now,” you yell, and the students hesitate only a moment before taking off. When they’re all out of sight, you turn around and run back to the auditorium as fast as possible.

When you pull open the door, destruction greets you. The ceiling caved in from the quirk-started earthquake, and it’s a bloodbath. You let a noise of horror escape, and you can hardly feel yourself moving forward and pushing piles of rubble around as you try to find someone, anyone.

“It’s over now, (Y/N),” a soothing voice comes from behind you, one that you recognise. Hongjoong.

You whirl around and launch yourself at him, and he catches you easily, holding you close. “Joong,” you sob into his chest.

“Shh, don’t worry. It’s all right.” He’s speaking calmly and lovingly, and you almost want to just close your eyes and listen to it forever…but you can hear screaming in the building, and somehow you know that he’s lying.

“No,” you manage to force out, and Hongjoong barks out a surprised laugh. He tries to hold you tighter but you shove him away. He’s surprised, and so are you. You didn’t think that you would ever do that to him, but amid all the chaos, your mind suddenly clears, and you understand.

New employee Hongjoong arrives, and suddenly there’s a spy. Hongjoong touches you, and you’re calm, happy, and trusting him. Hongjoong dates you, and you come home and tell him all about your day and what the government agents are doing. Hongjoong dislikes Seonghwa because Seonghwa’s quirk is knowing who lies. Although he can’t tell the reasons or exactly what the lie is, he knew to some extent that Hongjoong was hiding something.

“Oh, clever girl,” Hongjoong grins, a smile you once loved…or did you ever? “You figured it out, and now the baby deserves a prize.”

You shake your head, stepping back. “You’re a liar. Seonghwa knew.”

Hongjoong laughs wildly. “Don’t tell me what I know, (Y/N). And that Seonghwa is gone now. Buried him in the rubble just like he deserves. You know, his last words were not to hurt you? Ruminate on that. Imagine what he would think if he knew that you helped. You did this to yourself, to everyone here. Everyone loved you, relied on you, and you brought them down because you couldn’t discern anything. You can’t even stop me now.”

His words pierce your heart, and you shake as tears fill your eyes. “No,” you gasp out. “It’s not me.” The words feel foreign to you, and you almost want to swallow them back, but you can’t let him win again. “San will stop you.”

“Oh, will he?” Hongjoong’s having too much fun, and he beckons to someone…you hope he’s bluffing, but deep down, you know he’s not. “Let’s ask him ourselves.”

And as much as you wish it’s not true, that doesn’t stop San from materialising in front of you, just as wicked of agrin on his face. “No,” you breathe out.

“Yes,” San mimics. “You were almost too easy, (Y/N). Honestly, even with that brat Jongho getting suspicious and even escaping, you would do anything for your precious ‘Joongie’ that I didn’t have to do anything”

You hold down a sob, but it does nothing to hide the betrayal and confused look on your face. Hongjoong looks at you contemplatively. You must look pitiful, on your ass and backed against what once was a ceiling. “Leave us for a moment, San,” Hongjoong says slowly, head cocked, and you fear what he will do next.

With a light shrug, San exits the area, and you almost want him to stay so that he won’t hunt down the students, but you can’t seem to move. If you had a quirk, maybe you could’ve gotten out of this. But you’re floundering, and you don’t know what to do.

“Now, (Y/N),” Hongjoong steps in front of you and crouches, “you may be wondering why your precious boyfriend would do such a thing…and the truth is…it’s exhilarating, isn’t it? You know, even though I was emotionally manipulating you and brainwashing you or whatever, the thrill you felt from sneaking around was real.”

You shake your head, but you know he’s telling the truth, and you despise him even more for that. “No, I hate you.”

“Like that’s going to hurt my feelings? The feelings that didn’t exist? You’re done, honey. Just give up.” Hongjoong grabs your jaw, forcing you to look at his dark eyes and wicked smile. "It's the year of the villains, baby."

He pecks your lips, a crude mockery of the façade that was your relationship, and you fall apart. You close your eyes tight, and you hardly even register the sharp pain in your skin as Hongjoong digs his nails into your face.

But you do notice the blooming pain that spreads throughout your body, and you realise he must have coated his nails in poison. Hongjoong lets go of you, and without him holding you up, you slump on the ground as tears fall freely and silent sobs wrack your body. “I could kill you mercifully…but some part of me liked the game that we played. Let this serve as a reminder for the final moments of your life.” The smirk is heard in his voice and silently, you curse him.

You can’t see well, even when you open your eyes blearily, darkness clouding into the corners, but you can hear the click of his boots as he leaves. You can only hope he will leave the building alone as you lay in darkness. Warmth overcomes your body, and you can’t help but relax into it. Maybe it was his last kindness.

-

It’s been five years since the attack on the University of Seoul Supers, and Yeosang can’t stop waking up in a cold shiver every night. He counts his lucky stars that his quirk allowed him to hide away safely in the auditorium and take a few students under his protection. Seeing someone he considered a friend fall apart in front of his eyes almost ruined him, but as soon as that bitch, that so-called professor, left, Yeosang rushed out to you.

Even now, with his nightmares, he can’t even imagine what you must be going through. One of the students he saved knew how to heal, but with her lack of skill as well as the time it took for the paramedics to get to you, you would never be the same physically or mentally.

“Hongjoong?” Your light voice echoes through the house, and Yeosang cannot help but feel a wave of pity overcome him as he climbs out of his bed and makes his way to the guest suite you now call your bedroom.

Forever haunted by how you were used and then left to die, you never really talked about the incident. Yeosang doesn’t know if it’s how you cope or if it’s the aftermath of the trauma you faced. Still, you were always in your own little world, living happily and pretending or forgetting that Hongjoong isn’t but the one who blinded you and caused you to be practically immobile without the help of a wheelchair. He’s a man you loved who left and promised to return.

“Hey, (Y/N),” Yeosang manages with a tired smile. “No Hongjoong today. It’s just me.” No matter how many doctors he takes you to, or however much medication you get prescribed, he will always have to take care of you.

“Oh.” Yeosang’s heart hurts at the way your voice falls. He lost many friends, students, and people he considered family that day. He won’t ever stop hearing the screams of his TA, Wooyoung, as he was burnt to a crisp. But taking care of you is what keeps him moving. It’s what keeps him alive. And one day, he knows he will find Hongjoong and make him pay dearly for what he has done.

Yeosang steps towards you to help you into your wheelchair, and the paper detailing Jongho’s number burns in his pocket. The time will come, and all he has to do is wait. Five years is a blink of an eye for someone out for revenge, after all.

[non-neutoniangender]

So I finally got my life together enough to continue my C3 watch... I'm still at 33, I've made more progress on C1 recently. Finally the combination of finding Mini Metro and actually logging onto Tumblr on the web made the barrier of watching Those Episodes bearable.

Spoilers for ep 33 and minor vibe spoilers for episodes in the future that I'm not sure of but its all stuff I absorbed via osmosis and fandom.

It's been almost a full year since these episodes came out and I was mindlessly scrolling Tumblr during my 10am linguistics lecture and stumbled upon everyone panicking because of the lack of diamonds for the amount of people who died. Anyway.

The anxiety of not quite remembering exactly I learned happened is not doing me any favors, but good god, I can really only handle some of this stuff not watching live.

Anyway, here are some assorted thoughts:

Liam you really did not have to make me Feel Things about Orym and his husband while Orym is passing out.

Laudna what is that spell that adds hit dice, that is So Good

Good GOD Otohan is not pulling any punches.

.....this is so close to TPK wow.....

Matt hesitating before essentially killing his wife's character, but doing it anyway.....

It's really interesting to see so many of them up and huddled around the map, things are really getting heated, with Liam just living behind Ashley and Laura's chairs.

"I don't want to be the only one not dead" followed immediately by "soometiiimees you gotta cut a bitch" Yes Travis, that is the correct energy to bring to this clusterfuck.

:OOOOO Not the natural 20 to fucking save Laudna

Begging the DM for the extra hit point like its gonna matter lmao

"I should be more complete at my job" Good GOD

The sending stone 😢

And there's the first one

"We've met before" 😒😒

The sense of failure, the bitersweet feeling of seeing Will and Derrik again 😢😢

I hate it for them that they are getting important lore while they are on the verge of a TPK and loosing their characters

and yet they make jokes like "we can't afford that Sam" to careless whisper

"He is not a creature at the moment" :O omg. Ow. God that hurts.

I gotta say, I'm really enjoying seeing all these hail mary type moves.

You really only see the uber creative dumb shit Hail Mary calls when things are extremely dire.

I love how Beau's voice and mannerisms sneak out a lot as bits and jokes

And there's the second

"That was a helluva run" 😢

"Embrace it or be culled like the rest" oh my god

"That brings us straight to your initiative because everyone else ahead of you is dead" Oh my god Matt

If this actually tpk'd, this would probably be in the running for the longest, most painful tpk. Usually its all at once, rocks fall, everyone dies, the dragon breath attack....

Something about Travis repeating "do you fight it" to laura is so sweet to me.

Also Imogen is making such a wild decision mid potentially worst day of her life omg.

"Save your last line, you might still have a chance" Damn Matt you didn't have to be Like That

"I give in, and I fuck Chetney" "We all do at some point" 🤣

"Is she your favorite" and the immediate "I'll go with you, I give in" oh my god. Having seen that clip of Laura being like 'I didn't know Imogen was in love with Laudna' oh my god the pining is there.

Oh shit the whole city is turning red.

And THATS the end..................

I was gonna go to bed but........ Maybe I can afford to make 1 poor decision

I love the friendship, everyone congratulating each other and matt, no hard feelings. But I wonder how many people are rolling up characters just in case cuz oh my god.

[tetsunabouquet]

Can't Help Falling In Love With You Chapter 9

Masterpost

Midorima's heart was pounding so hard he feared it would break his chest. You had casually asked him out the other day, texting him that you'd like to try to go out for a simple, casual date to test the waters. Obviously, Midorima immediately accepted the proposal. When discussing the details, he had promised to pick you up and you had expressed some worry, wondering if he was okay going to the worst area of Tokyo. A person could call Midorima many things, but a coward wasn't one of them. The first thing he noticed, was how much filthier things seemed to be on this side of the city. You could tell by entering the area that there seemed to be an aura of hopelessness and people had stopped caring. Criminals didn't immediately started crawling out of the woodworks though, it was relatively quiet in the area right now, the sole exception being the honking of a car that Midorima suspected had broken at least one traffic law at its speed. He rang the outside bell of the shabby apartment you lived in. Not long after, you came outside, dressed in a casual but elegant yet feminine style, looking as foreign to the background as he did. He recognized the hair ribbon you were wearing from school though. "Hello, is it okay if I call you Shintaro? It's weird to be on a date and call you by your first name." You stated as you greeted him and Midorima's head was spinning from the way you pronounced his name. "Of course, nandayo!" He blurted out with a slight blush. You smiled warmly, "You can call me Y/n too." Midorima nodded, still red faced as he gestured towards the cart that Takao often drove him around in. "Today, I will be your driver." You giggled at the sight, and shook your head. "You're kidding me!" "I'm not, nandayo. If you wish to test the waters to date and be in a relationship with me, you should be aware that I will spoil you as you deserve." The sweetness of his answer made you giggle once more, and it was then, when you looked into the cart and spotted a scarf with adorable kitty paw print, and following Oh Asa out of curiosity due to Midorima you knew your lucky item of the day was a clothing article with cat print. "I'm already wearing my cat print socks, but it's wonderful you thought of me." You said, picking up the scarf and wrapping it around your neck. You sniffed the material and it smelled fresh and new. "It was only right, nandayo. Now get in, we're going for the best lunch you've ever had."

You were surpised that you got Midorima to actually laugh at one of your jokes, he seemed to have something so reserved and stoic sometimes that it surprised you he did have a sense of humor. Sure, it felt like a bit of a reversel of the gender stereotype, with you making most of the jokes and he being the one laughing all the time, but you didn't mind. You felt embarassed about Midorima paying for everything, and in a surpsing move of emotional intelligence, he had ordered simple croissants and your favorite blend of tea alongside his own. Definitely not pricy enough to make you feel guilty. Midorima definitely was more then he let on, and you really liked it. "Though," Midorima said as he recovered, "I would certainly not mind if I could put Takao on a space ship." Now it was your turn to laugh as you imagined poor Takao being sent off to Mars. "Do you really think he's that annoying?" "Yes, but the unfortunate thing is that he grows on me like a disease nandayo." You hiccuped from the giggles once more, your eyes getting watery. "Well, you really do seem like you're getting corrupted by fungi," You said, stressing on the 'fun' for a pun. Midorima snorted. "As if I can help it when the fungi is this stubborn." "Let's hope your next lucky item are cleaning wipes." You continued to joke around as if you were on crack, something about the light, goofy mood just being electric. You realized then, that without a doubt, you were actually falling for Midorima.

[dragonflight203]

Mass Effect 2 replay, part two of the Citadel:

-First time I’ve corrupted a save. I loaded falling through the Citadel background. I had to revert to a backup save and replay through the Council meeting yet again.

-I’m continuing my girl squad in ME2: I’m taking Miranda and Kasumi with me through this run. I’ve never taken either of them with me before, and they’ve both grown on me in past playthroughs.

I also just realized that I’m taking a human only squad with me in the human supremacy game. Uh. In my defense, past playthroughs have always had two aliens as squadmates.

-The running joke that the shopkeepers are only there to mind the shop and provide customer support is amusing. All sales are made through the terminal. Was this parodying something?

-The turian who loves his shotgun is also a winner. I always make sure sure to hear the full cycle of his dialogue.

-So post Battle of the Citadel, citizens are no longer permitted to carry weapons.

This can’t possibly be the first disaster the Citadel has been through. Does it go through cycles where weapons are banned, restrictions are loosened, then they’re banned again?

-Gotta love that the turian weapon shop keeper sells “experiences” (i.e, vacations) that involve people dying. Their deaths just heighten the intensity. No wonder the community is small.

-Paragon Shepard is such a sell out in ME2. But money is scarce. I wish this would come back to haunt Shepard somehow in ME3. I’ve seen some great suggestions.

-The writing for the most of of the Citadel is great. The salarian games salesman and the Tupari sales machine both have hilarious – and numerous! - lines. Someone was clearly having a good time. You won’t hear most of them in a normal playthrough unless you intentionally trigger them.

-ME1 played up the tensions between humans and turians, especially on the Citadel – you didn’t even see turians in the wards until you hit the marketplace.

Not so here. There are turian-human pairs all over the place.

Inadvertent change in tone, or intentionally reflecting the change in how humanity is viewed after the Battle of Citadel? You decide.

-Another contrast is with the Presidum bartender in ME1 and the Dark Star bartender in ME2.

Presidium bartender gave you an overview of the Citadel; Dark Star bartender tells you to check the news and wonders why humans keep asking what’s up.

-The bar does not have separate bathrooms for different genders.

Is that the norm in public areas? Given asari are mono-gender and the other species have who knows what going on (I’m assuming the Alliance defaults to he/she like they do asari, but the reality is more complex) it’s probably practical to have one bathroom and call it a day.

Humanity still differentiates, however – the Normandy has separate bathrooms for men and women.

-The Citadel and Omega bars indicate how different Shepard is from other humans now. Probably not unintentional that a player is likely to visit at least one early in the game.

On the Citadel, Shepard downs many drinks that the bartender repeatedly says they’ve never seen anyone handle.

On Omega, Shepard gets poisoned. The poison has killed every other human.

The game doesn’t linger on it, but these definitely show that Shepard is no longer “normal”.

-Why is the Presidium groundskeeper in armor when all the other turians in the bar are in casual clothes. What’s happening on the Presidium that requires him to wear armor?

-The Citadel requires permits for pets. I suspect that’s as successful as most cities that insist you need a license for your pet. There must be unregistered pets everywhere, especially in poorer areas.

-The volus used ship shopkeeper mentions Unification Day sales. Is that supposed to the day to celebrate the end of the Unification Wars? Well, the volus are a client race of the turians.

-All turians shuttles can fit a light mass accelerator canon. Of course they can. Why am I even surprised?

What I will ask is why those are permitted, but you can’t carry a pistol.

-The Level 26 ads are notably targeted for a poorer audience. Pawn shops, work arounds for shitty extranet connections, discount shops, etc.

-Ad by C-sec: If you see a synthetic unaccompanied by an organic owner...

Hoo boy, that’s some loaded language. I see Mass Effect is still leaning hard into the slavery parallels.

-In Saronis Applications, an elcor hacked their translator so they can control what emotions are attributed to their speech. Good for them. I wonder how common that is? It would be very useful.

-Gotta love Kion Louros thowing shade at the Sirta Foundation for always hiring asari shop keepers when they’re a human organization. I bet that’s a common tactic much derided by asari.

-For my sanity, I credit the Sirta Foundation for making some kind of improvement to medigel, not inventing it. Maybe they invented the means to easily store or apply it.

I struggle to believe there have been multiple space faring species for millennia and none of them developed medigel before. That just strains my credibility past believing.

-The incident with the volus accusing the quarian of stealing his credit chit and C-Sec then threatening the quarian with a vagrancy charge after she’s proven innocent is both very believable and incredibly sad.

And this, by the way Bailey, is why ignoring formalities is bad. It makes these kind of abuses of power too easy. I don’t doubt that prejudices are baked into the system, but normally some kind of protections are too.

After you’ve ignored the book to beat a confession out a prisoner, what’s an unwarranted vagrancy charge on top of that?

-Odd for the volus to call the quarian clanless. Quarians are close-knit; clanless isn’t what I’d call them.

-Yep, clanless is an insult. Probably one of the worst volus have. The volus used ship shopkeeper referred to her as migrant clan.

-Going renegade with the krogans so one pays you for the Presidium “fish” makes me feel so dirty. Going paragon might break his heart, but at least I’m not fleecing him for a false fish. :/

[rosesandalfazemas]

Oblivion

ENGPORT - Drabble - Forgotten AU. Based on this.

Five years, three months, twenty-two days, four hours and thirty-five minutes.

“Stop!”

Five years, three months, twenty-two days, four hours and thirty-six minutes.

“Wait!”

Five years, three months, twenty-two days, four hours and thirty-seven minutes.

"Hey!”

“Excuse me, I'm sorry...”

He got up and ran again at full speed, not stopping to help whoever had crashed at the next corner. He received some insults and indignant looks in a foreign language, but he kept his head up, his eyes fixed and unblinking.

Five years, three months, twenty-two days, four hours and thirty-eight minutes.

There were a lot of people at that hour in the center of Prague, but he would not fail, not this time. Even if he was run over by traffic; even if the police took him to jail for riots before the stupefied eyes of tourists and locals.

Five years, three months, twenty-two days, four hours and thirty-eight minutes.

Granted, he was crazy. Granted, he had already lost all the manners that always distinguished him among his own. But what matters?

Five years, three months, twenty-two days, four hours and thirty-nine minutes.

He must not lose sight of that head, that hair.

Five years, three months, twenty-two days, four hours and thirty-nine minutes and thirty seconds.

He swore, he felt, that this time he was not wrong.

Five years, three months, twenty-two days, four hours and thirty-nine minutes and fifty seconds.

A red light gave him the only opportunity in a long time.

Five years, three months, twenty-two days, four hours and forty minutes.

“Gabriel!!”

Time stopped, like his destroyed body from running so many kilometers. He had trotted through half the city; but he didn't care about that, or the burning in his muscles, or his burst sternum crying out for oxygen.

Only eyes the color of the sea that turned to see him, curious, upon hearing his name.

“Oh God... it's you... I knew it... “ he whispered with a half smile, without taking his eyes off him  “Finally... finally...”

The aforementioned turned around completely, moving away from the cluster of people to see him better. There was almost half a block between them, but neither of them would advance.

"Hmn, hello," the boy said sheepishly, holding his travel backpack and adjusting his half-tied brown hair, falling to his shoulders. English was not his native language, but he knew how to pronounce it well.

"I... hello," the Brit continued more calmly. He straightened up and sighed, finishing accommodating the air in his lungs and slowly walking towards the other “ I can't believe it. I don't understand what happened, where were you? What happened to you?”

“... What?”

"Yeah, it's confusing. One day the earth simply swallowed you and no one knew anything about you anymore. I looked for you everywhere, including in the Oniric World; I owe favors to half the magical population” he said mockingly, and continued walking “But it doesn't matter, because I finally found you after all this time, Gabe, and I...”

“Woah!” the dark-haired man made a stop gesture for him to stop approaching. The blonde raised an eyebrow.

“I know, I know. I'm talking a lot, but I'm nervous” he scratched his head, suppressing the desire to press him against him, cry and kiss him in public “; you already know how I am.”

"No, actually I have no idea.”

The answer caused an awkward silence between the two, while people seemed to not walk near those two.

“... You have no idea?”

"Uhm... I don't know who you are," he clarified slowly, looking at him prudently. “ You called me by name and said all these things; but I really don't know you, senhor.”

Five years, three months, twenty-two days, five hours.

“What... ?” the blonde half smiled. "You're kidding, right? It's not a nice joke now, Gabe. I was very worried...”

"It's not my funny face," he pointed out, seriously. “And I don't know if you're playing a trick on me. I don't know who he is or what you want from me”.

No, it wasn't a joke. Not at all. Gabriel's eyes were honest.

It couldn't be.

"...I'm Arthur. Arthur Kirkland” pointed to his chest taking another step, in shock “The United Kingdom, England”

"Yeah you’re clearly from there” he answered, holding the backpack by the handles. “But I don't know any Arthur.”

“No... no...”

The britain hands began to shake and he had to hold them to avoid making a show. He stammered unconnected things, biting his mouth to silence the sob of tears falling down his cheeks, his pupils wide open.

“I'm sorry I'm not that Gabriel, I can see you’re suffering a lot” the dark-haired man then narrowed down, feeling guilty when he noticed the anguish “Do you want us to notify the police? Maybe they can help you.”

England didn't know whether to split the sky with lightning and strike down all the humans there, out of sheer spite; fall to their knees and scream, or start laughing wildly. Or all at once.

It wasn't happening, it wasn't happening.

“...”

“Sir?”

“... Just...” he took a breath to speak “...forgive me. I have no bad intentions” he said then, spinning the words to sound coherent “. I was looking for my husband for years, because he disappeared.”

"Oh Deus, I'm so sorry!" The other took a step towards him. “It must be terrifying.”

"You have no idea... Gabriel" he whispered, his reality falling apart in front of him without remedy. Because not only Portugal didn’t remember who he was, but it seemed that he had no idea what he was as well. “I'm really sorry.” He wiped away the tears.

“No, it's okay... erm... do you want me to go with you somewhere?”

“Haha, no,” he replied. “I don't want to scare you anymore. I just have one question.”

“Yes?”

Five years, three months, twenty-two days, five hours and twenty minutes.

“... Are you happy?”

Gabriel blinked in confusion, because none of this encounter made any sense. Why was about such a precise person? Maybe...

“Yes.”

Arthur bit his tongue.

“All right. It's the only thing that relieves me now” he smiled forcibly, avoiding his gaze. Would he have made a new life, far from everything they were? How was that even possible? “. Sorry to intrude you, Gabriel. Thanks.”

"If there's anything I can do...”

“Not anymore.”

That answer was colder than he had calculated, but he couldn't help it. Now he was sad and angry; not with him, but with his damn Fate. He turned his back on him, finishing accepting what had happened and began to walk, rigid, away from him. Thinking and not thinking. Thinking and not thinking.

"Arthur!" Gabriel ventured to call him by name; he took a few steps towards him, but the blonde didn't turn around again “Wait!”

He was confused and in some way that he did not understand why, hurt. Like an old pain without explanation.

Zero hour, forty minutes.

The multitude separated them again, losing them in the crowd of Prague.

Zero hour, forty-one minutes.

Zero hour, forty-two minutes...

[ninjastormhawkkat]

The Fall of Fair City - Chapter 21

Any bravado Dr. Two Brains tried to display when demanding answers was rapidly depleting from him, being replaced with fear as Steven calmly approached him, bent down, and got right into Two Brains face bearing an all to familiar malevolent grin with piercing dark eyes he saw once before. Whether it was from a dream or memory, Two Brains knew that the person before him wasn't his good side, but at the same time, he could not recall the figure before him. "I have been dormant for far too long Dr. Two Brains." The figure bearing Steven Boxleitner's face spoke. "The villains here and even you have so much potential, but it is sadly being wasted away by the idiotic imps that run this waste of a city. What's worse is that these same people think they can just hide behind their own crimes and get away with presenting themselves as the good guys while open more honest villains are treated as scum. Oh sure people have celebrity views of the villains here, but at the end of the day, you and your friends are always viewed with disgust, disdain and fear despite you mischief making." "Steven" then got slowly up and out of Two Brains face and walked toward a comfy chair. He casually placed his hand on it and rubbed it along the soft material, back and forth, with a bored expression as if he didn't have anything diabolical going on in his mind. "It's time this city fell into different hands, or maybe just fall entirely." "Steven" chuckled as if laughing at a morbid joke. "Once I come into action, the people of this city will really have something to be afraid of. A fear that will haunt them for the rest of their lives." "Steven" gave a dark gleeful smile which chilled the trapped mad scientist and lab mouse. "Wha...what are you going to do?" Dr. Two Brains asked sounding more scared than when Miss Power came along. "Steven" rapidly swerved his head to face the mad scientist, once more, bearing that malevolent, psychotic grin and expression that haunted Two Brains' in his nightmares. "Tsk Tsk. Oh Dr. Two Brains." The malevolent entity began to chastise the mad scientist. "The question you should be asking is what are WE going to do to this city?" Dr. Two Brains gulped in apprehension. He gazed once more towards Squeaky. The mouse said nothing as the rodent continued to shake in fear. Even though they couldn't understand each other at the moment, Dr. Two Brains had a gut feeling that he and Squeaky were thinking the same thing. They were in deep trouble now. Fair City Courthouse - Few days later Judge Randall Homesfield was a patient and fair man. For 25 years, he has resided over the conduction of many criminals and villains that dared to break the law in Fair City. Ever since he took the post at age 32, Randall Homesfield has grown used to revolving door of various offenders that entered his court, ranging from the common jaywalker to a man who steals and attacks with a condiment ray. Homesfield took pride in his reputation as the judge who makes the final say that maintains the balance of justice along with living the picturesque life of a loving and loyal family man. Today was no different as District Attorney Sally Botsford had just finished her closing arguments in proving that the notorious villain known as The Butcher, was clearly guilty of robbing once again, Fair City's main bank. The villain had used sculptures made of delectable meat to distract hungry security and tellers while he snuck into the vaults to grab the cash. The Butcher would have almost gotten away with it if it weren't for Wordgirl and Captian Huggy Face showing up to stop him. Now Judge Homesfield, Mrs. Botsford, and the nervous looking Butcher were waiting for the jury to return to their seats and give the judge the final verdict on whether they have determined from the evidence should The Butcher be guilty or not. Neither Mrs. Botsford nor Judge Homesfield were worried. Unlike The Butcher, they both knew that the jury's decision would go in favor for the justice system. @melodythebunny @dualnaturedscientist

[opera-ghosts]

Arturo Toscanini in 1898:

"By Heaven! If this Neapolitan continues to sing like this, he will make the whole world talk about him."

Beniamino Gigli:

"I wonder what would have become of me if, like him, I had been born in a city slum; for I did not have the gifts of personality that enabled Caruso to create life and warmth around him wherever he went."

Bruno Walter:

"I loved his voice, his talent, the sense of beauty expressed in his nuances of timbre, his portamento and rubato, his great musicality and naturalness, and we got along so well."

Caruso about his first teacher:

"It was he [Guglielmo Vergine] who impressed, time and again, the necessity of singing as nature intended, and - I remember - he constantly warned, don't let the public know that you work. So I went slowly. I never forced the voice."

Caruso about his performance:

"I know that I shall sing only a certain number of times. So I think to myself, "Tonight I will hold back my voice. I will save it a little and that will mean I may be able to sing a few more times." But when I go before the audience, when I hear the music and begin to sing, I cannot hold back. I give the best there is in me - I give all."

Caruso about his singing:

"I suffer so much in this life. That is what they [the audience] are feeling when I sing, that is why they cry. People who felt nothing in this life cannot sing."

Caruso about Nellie Melba and Melba about Caruso:

Not a quote but an action. The Australian soprano Nellie Melba was notorius for her ruthlessness and coldness. Performing with her in La Bohème Caruso, as a joke, pressed a hot sausage into her hand that he'd hidden in his pocket as he sang "Che gelida manina, se la lasci riscaldar."("What a cold little hand, let me warm it"). She had considered Caruso coarse and uncultivated and this, of course, only confirmed that ... Melba, however, was impressed with Caruso's voice and wrote in her autobiography (Melodies and Memories): "As a voice - pure and simple - his was the most wonderful tenor I ever heard."

Geraldine Farrar:

“There are two singers you must put aside, one is Enrico Caruso, the other is Rosa Ponselle. Then you may begin to discuss all the others!”

Giovanni Martinelli about Caruso:

At a party an overdressed flamboyant woman persisted in demanding answers from Giovanni Martinelli to questions in a loud voice to attract attention. Finally she said, “Come now, Mr. Martinelli, tell us the truth – Caruso was never as good as his press made him to be, is that not the truth.” Martinelli swung around and faced his tormentor. “Madame”, he declared in his accented, but thoroughly accurate English, “Put Gigli, Lauri-Volpi and me together – make us one tenor – and we would not be fit to kiss Caruso’s shoe tops”. “Does that answer you?”

Guilio Gatti-Casazza (director of the Metropolitan Opera):

"I heard all the great tenors of my time over and over again. Many of them were wonderful artists and had extraordinary voices. But in my opinion, not a single one of them ever sang an entire role with such vocal and artistic consistency as Caruso."

John McCormack about Caruso's voice:

"36 years later that voice still rings in my ears, the memory of it will never die."

Richard Strauss in excitement after hearing Caruso the first time:

"He is singing the soul (spirit) of the melody!"

Rosa Ponselle:

"When you speak of tenors, you have to divide them into two groups. Caruso in the first group. All the others are in the second."

The soprano Geraldine Farrar writes in her biography that she, the first time she stood on stage with Caruso, forgot to sing as she had broken into tears from the beauty of Caruso's voice.

"I have seen him sob for five minutes in his dressing room after the first act [of Pagliacci]; I have seen him fall on the stage, faint from emotion; and I have also seen him come off whistling gaily and joking with the chorus. Whatever his own emotions were, his audience was invariably overwhelmed. I asked him to explain the secret of this power. He said, "I suffer so much in this life, Doro. That is what they feeling when I sing, that is why they cry. People who felt nothing in this life cannot sing."From "Enrico Caruso - His Life and Death" by Dorothy Caruso.

[dragon-in-the-watery-bowl]

Sister, Sister

Another Ghost AU fic, this time with Komaru.

Warning for some descriptions of gore.

Even after the other Warriors of Hope left their idolization of Junko Enoshima behind and stopped following Monaca's orders, the war between children and adults in Towa City continued, so she and Toko stayed behind, trying to stop it from going worse until Makoto and his friends could find a way to free those kids from Monaca's helmets.

But it proved to be harder than everyone thought it was going to be.

It was needed another entire year of constant fighting, Monaca deciding out of the blue to become a space NEET and a "brainwashing" video, as Makoto put it after she asked him about it, to finally stop the war ravaging Towa City.

It was a daunting task, and, even with everyone doing their best to find a way to stop it, she was starting to get tired, having days where she just wanted to go back to her brother and leave this city at its own fate, with only her desire to save everyone stopping her to follow those thoughts.

But now, it was all over.

The fighting had finally stopped, and she could go back to her brother.

And finally see his new ghostly companion.

---

When they were little, mom liked to joke that her side of the family were a bunch of spirit mediums, being able to see and talk with ghosts, knowing how that always got a raise on everyone.

But there was a little more of truth on her words than everyone else thought.

Because both her and Makoto could see ghosts.

But it wasn't as cool of a ability as everyone else would think, because there wasn't as many ghosts stuck on the living plane as so many mediums would like to make others think, so they rarely crossed paths with restless spirits during their childhood.

And even then, she was the one who always found spirits everywhere she went, with her being able to count all of Makoto's encounters with ghosts with just one hand.

So, when she first heard about how he ended up with a ghost permanently stuck to his side, she saw it as karma finally balancing the scales for both of them after spending their childhood being the one sibling who had the misfortune of bumping against ghosts all the time.

But, even with what she heard about that ghost, she still didn't knew that much about him, only knowing that his name is "Utsuro", was once another one of the followers of Junko Enoshima, and a member of "Ultimate Despair", and that he's been helping Makoto since they were left stuck together.

So, it made sense why she wanted to see him so badly.

She wanted to know more about him.

---

Makoto told her and Toko to meet him and his friends to where the abandoned Hope's Peak Academy's building was.

He had told them about his plan to re-open the place, and transform it into a place where people could heal from the pain the Tragedy had caused.

His plan was initially met with massive disagreement, mainly from Toko and his other classmates, but he was able to convince everyone that he was going to make sure to not let the place fall back to the state it was when the original Steering Committee had control over it.

She also had her doubts about his plan, but she trusted him to keep his word.

After a long trip on bike, which almost ended up with Toko puking from pure fear, thanks to how fast she was driving, she immediately found Makoto in between all the people who had come to help with the repairs, and went right to hugging him tightly.

She was so happy with seeing him again, that she almost didn't felt the goosebumps that always told them when a ghost was near, and almost makes her ignore the figure floating at her brother's side.

Well, now that she can see him in person, it looks like Makoto's descriptions of Utsuro seemed to be a little biased.

The first thing she noticed was how he was drenched from head to toe, the water tightly sticking his clothes onto his body, and dark ginger hair made a complete mess. She also could smell faintly the recognizable smell of the ocean around him.

And she could see how that seawater was was mixing in places with what it was clearly blood, blood that it came from the mess that once it was his face and arms.

Whatever skin he once had in those places had been eaten away, leaving behind exposed muscle and bone, a terrifying visage for anyone unlucky enough to see him besides his brother, with it's horror heightened by the blood-red pools inside his eye sockets, that she realized were supposed to be his eyes, that still remain in his face even though the rest of it was just a bloody skull.

Once he noticed she was looking at him, not at the area where he was situated, he started to get close to her, one of his bony, half-rotten, hands moving towards her. She had to have flinched, because he stopped himself in his tracks, while Makoto was looking at her in worry.

"Komaru, are you ok?"

She nodded vigorously, trying to not look too nervous "Yeah, it's just that i didn't noticed the presence of your friend until now" She said while pointing to the ghost.

Makoto and Utsuro looked at each other for a moment, with the former looking like he didn't cared about, or noticed, the ghost's ghoulish appearance, before turning back to her.

"Oh yeah, he was completely invisible on your side every time we did a video call, thanks to cameras not being able to record him" He said bashfully, before pointing his hands towards the ghost "So here's my ghost friend who everyone was been talking about, Utsuro"

"Hey" He said while moving his hand in a vague memory of a greeting. The sound of his voice was as unpleasant as his appearance, being raspy and sounding like he was choking on air.

She just nodded in response, not wanting to continue with this conversation. One day, she would get used to Utsuro's appearance, just like her brother did. Maybe. Hopefully.

But now, that wasn't that day.

In that moment, as if the gods answered her prayers, one of the guys Makoto had contracted for the repairs called them to tell them that everything had already arrived.

She immediately excused herself, telling Makoto that she was "Going to help Toko" with the boxes, not even letting him say anything to her before she ran towards the writer.

One day, she was going to need to go talk with Utsuro, because she has a lot of questions for him, but she's not going to do it until his lack-of-face stops being a reminder of those horror movies that she and Makoto had the misfortune to see when they were younger.

But now, it's better for her to start doing something else and clear her mind of everything.

After all, with the Tragedy finished, she now has all the time of the world.

[todays-fixation-is-spite]

Rant below because I'm so sick of "haha Estinien dummy". Nothing I say will change it, the damage was done come Endwalker and is just being driven into the ground like a bad joke.

The continued stupefying of a character who was never once characterized as -stupid- or dense in the beginning. Estinien is sharp as a tack, he -has- to be to hold the position he does and attain wins against creatures well beyond anything that's ever lived in the canon. He was literally the first one to step up when it came to the conflict between himself and Ysayle regarding standing up for the conviction of her side of things, insist on -proving- him wrong because this was war, if she couldn't convince him, how did she hope to convince fuckin' -dragons- to change their ways and heel turn at the last minute. He knew exactly the timing on how to watch over the Scions in-city and recognize we're up to some major shit, and we'll need all the help we can get. His end goal is undeniably selfish, but he's still at heart getting his and still protecting Ishgard as a whole, while effectively getting around the tyrannical Orthodoxy of the time.

Is he a bit of a -prick-? Definitely! Does he push someone's buttons the moment they show a vulnerability? Yeah! His own trainers did that with him, by his own word in 3.3, "teachers to console and admonish me". Let's not forget his own words observing the real ass truth that if every person in Ishgard could know the thoughts of all others, the city would fall within the hour. He survived Ishgard, an -Orthodoxy- with an actual ass -Inquisition- constantly on the hunt for anyone that endangered their political rhetoric, and he knows how to navigate around and evade them. What part of that isn't -reading the room- by having the social intelligence to immediately find the weaknesses in the people around him and know how to push, pull, or get out of the way to get what he wants.

Estinien is an -ass-, yes. Not a -fool- whose incapable of the basics we've literally seen shown in the game come his fleshing out in HW. (Yes, granted, ARR Estinien is single-minded, this is because DRG 30-50 is copy pasted from 1.0 and that era's writing is very weak.)

Take a good look at HW Estinien and -insist- he's incapable, how does anyone do it? When everyone collectively decided "he dummy/ he stoopid", was anybody actually looking at him, did anybody pay any fucking attention?

Stop making fools of perfectly capable characters, who show ON SCREEN with real canon evidence they are better than Fandom, for whatever reason, choses to drag them down to, fuck.

Yoshi P said this because it's the popular fucking opinion, for some reason. The editor has it correct. Estinien doesn't -diminish- or mask himself for others, you get him as he is, unfiltered (unless it's a true and real danger, in which case he generally doesn't speak and he knows when not to do that, see; Surviving Ishgard). He knows who he is, he's proud of it, and there's zero way someone who -survived what he has-, did it, by being clueless and incapable of taking in the fine details around him.

Being a brusque introvert with the Tism does not make you into what Estinien has been made into by EW. I can't believe how many Estinien stans firmly stand on the point he's a fool when there is clear proof to the contrary. There's nothing he's experienced since then that proves he's suddenly lost what -experience- taught him. EW sat here trying to say Estinien gets swindled easy, then drove that into the ground by making it a running gag, as if he didn't make it through -Kugane- on his own -just fine-, like it somehow doesn't have swindlers and cheats and Thavnair does??? He was self sufficient from the moment he left Ishgard in 3.3, but suddenly nah, he's a fool now in EW, because Fandom decided, Haha funnee stinkman doesn't take a bath haha.

I get that we like to project ourselves onto characters as much as we like to take personality traits from them, but what does it say when someone completely -replaces- the actual nature of a character with just themselves. Did you -ever- actually like the -character-...?

It is a failure to misread a character at his beginnings so completely that as writers got shuffled around and new people came on board, they chose to reinforce that belief because it's popular. It felt like only ONE writer was resisting this in EW and more often than not, it was on side, non-voiced dialogue that gets missed or just ignored.

That the writers on hand -now- insist on keeping up this farce is even worse. It's not representative to make Estinien like this and try to use the "relatable" banner as another ND status character we decide on retroactively, by the way. -How- is it not actively demeaning to declare that about a character and then look at what he was at the start and then see that the writers are -going along- with "Ah yes, actually he Can't." when he actively can and does. That's -saying- Neurodivergence -is- an inability to read people (which in some cases yes! However!)- when Masking is literally the very essence of -reading the room- to -survive the room-. Masking makes us so good at taking in the details it becomes difficulty to have an identity -outside- of reading people effectively to survive. We're BRILLIANT- exhausted, but brilliant! We shouldn't let writers spin the narrative like we're not because we willingly decide "Oh yeah, that's me actually." and get a laugh out of not just erasing who a -beloved- character -is-, but in turn use that relatability to declare -boldly- that we also don't know how to do things we do, every day, because NTs expect it of us.

And we pat Yoshi P on the back for "setting that straight", -really-?

The respect is gone, if some people ever had it, and that's tragic for a character who has made it as far as Estinien has and genuinely healed from some of the worst shit, who realistically healed from it -with the assistance of others-, a group that accepts him for who he is completely, which is a good depiction of mending from horrendous trauma. I would think with that representation that all us traumatized people would -appreciate- that and celebrate Estinien without having to demean him and turn him into Post EW Estinien, who is 90% somewhere between turned into a fool torn down and laughed off when he's speaking straight facts or just being sexualized on screen like everyone else now because sex sells. x.x

im glad yoshi-p set the record straight

[senkothewarlock]

DWC #4

@daily-writing-challenge

Day 4: Vengeance & Satisfaction

Day had broken, and the two lovebirds had been hurried out of the city. The long walk back to camp had begun. The winding stone stairs that led out of Valdrakken went on and on, the warmth of the morning sun began to pierce past the stone spires and illuminated the path forward. Urbanisation gave way to the rural fields and grasslands. Safely out of the city limits, Senko ran a thumb over a purple crystal in her many pouches. A green rift broke through reality, spewing forth a twitchy imp.

“HI FRENS.” The imp shouted, as loud as a direhorn in a pottery store.

“Hello, Pippy.” Senko said, giving the little creature a pat on the head before handing him some bags to carry. “Would you mind helping out?”

The imp, immediately, took the bags and shoved his head into them. The imp was more cat than fiend in more than one way. His spindly tail swept cross the dusted roads before picking the bags up and helping to carry them along. The two vixens held hands as they walked across country. The stones had given way to dirt paths, crudely made from foot traffic of the centaurs and drakonids. As they crossed into the Ohn’ahran Plains once more, they stopped by a small pond for a midday rest.

A serene body of water, tucked away behind blades of grass was the perfect spot for some respite. As the two sat down, Senko took her fiancée into an embrace by the water’s edge. The peaceful moment broke when Oonee asked a question.

“That story Vedda told last night… Do you remember much of it, darling?” She asked, her eyes looking up past the wooden frame of her mask.

“Bits and pieces. A fanciful myth, to be sure.” Senko mused, rubbing Oonee’s shoulder as she gazed across the pond.

“Do you think he knows?” Oonee asked back.

“Probably. I spoke to him years ago about the things I did in Vol’dun, but I don’t think he ever learnt the extent of it. Few do.” Senko replied, watching as Piprot placed down the bags by her feet before splashing in the water.

“Has anyone ever tried to-… you know?” Oonee asked, lifting her mask up which splayed her ears.

“Once. A frost troll. Didn’t end well for him. I suspect most people feel that the bounty isn’t eligible for cash-ins anymore.” She stated, idly throwing a pebble across the tort water surface. “You have nothing to worry about, my dear. They won’t even lay a finger on you.”

Oonee’s quietness broke with a quiet giggle. “It’s not me I’m worried about. I don’t want to be a widow.” She said, her joke belying a fear.

“I always come back, my love. There is no need to worry.” Senko affirmed, plucking a wild flower and placed it behind one of Oonee’s ears.

A few minutes pass before the two rose back to their feet, having rested up. Piprot frowned as he swam back to shore and frowned even harder when he was told he couldn’t bring the duck home with him. He placed it back in the water, the solemn ‘quack’ that broke the imp’s heart before he picked up the bags and went off on his merry little way once more.

 “So, what happened to the troll anyways? I don’t think you ever spoke about them.” Oonee asked, canting her head. “Then again, you do like your secrets.” She mused, giving a playful nudge into Senko’s ribs.

“Well, he didn’t last too long in a fight. I let him go, I’ve no beef with them.”

FIVE YEARS AGO, VOL’DUN

The table shook with anger as Ts’kon’s fist slammed into the crudely crafted drywood. Two years had past since his pact with the Fangcaller and he was still no closer to the imperial throne. He plucked a splinter from his hand before snarling and hissing in both parts rage and pain.

“How!” He yelled to himself. “How could one rat-“

“Technically, dey be more like foxes.” A voice interrupted the Viceroy.

“I don’t care what they are! Thisss Drakkari wass perfect for the job, and he got he got humiliated!”

The dark halls of the burrows continued to fall into disrepair. With each outburst of emotion, dust and plaster fell from the roof. The contingent of guards had slowly dissipated over the years to just a few handfuls of foot soldiers. Lousy ones at that too, they spent their time drinking and gambling. Loitering in the corridors.

“I am beginning to think you’re just here to ssssee me ssssquirm, Tuk’rakthul. You’ve done nothing to help the caussssse for agessss! I ssshould ssstick you where you ssssta-“

The Viceroy was cut off by a booming, ethereal laugh. The Zandalari was raucous, hand on stomach as his laughter drowned out the Sethrak’s complaints before ceasing. His misty, old eyes shot down at the serpent.

“If you be trying ta kill me through laughter, you might have succeeded, snake.” Tuk’rakthul replied, placing a firm grasp onto the viceroy’s shoulder. “Do you tink I be afraid of you?”

Ts’kon tried to speak, his words stuttered as he felt the sheer weight press onto his lithe frame.

“I be wantin’ a… resolution to dis problem too, but perhaps bounty hunters be not de right play.” He spoke, his hand still clamped like a vice on the Sethrak.

“Then what do you ssssuggessst?” Ts’kon hissed back, wrenching himself free of the troll’s grasp. “Enlighten me.” He furthered, forked tongue laced with cynicism.

“De bounty hunters be too-… flaky. Dey are motivated by greed, not cause. Your ‘empire’ is a joke, Viceroy. We all know it. Which is why you need to look inwardly.” Tuk’rakthul said, the demoniac dusting his hand on the sea-blue robes.

At first, Viceroy Ts’kon was enraged at having his nation besmirched. But he knew it was the truth. Everything the Zandalari had said was true over the course of two years. He thought, by now, the professor of the dark arts would have made a slip. Yet he didn’t. He was consistent. Infuriatingly so.

“Muster ya forces, Viceroy. Dis be a matter only you snakemen can deal with. I will deal with the Fangcaller, make her see tings from our point o’ view.” The troll said, walking out of the room. He paused, turning over his shoulder. “And Ts’kon? That dagger you be hiding, it is too blunt to pierce the skin of a troll. Try harder, next time.”

 As the Zandalari walked out of the room, the Viceroy gasped in shock. He dropped a crude knife to the floor that cluttered and clanged. His every move, his every impulse – even the unchoreographed, was known. Just who was this troll?

[luveline]

would you be willing to do palm kisses for zombie au? holding hands during a stressful situation and palm kisses? i just really the world you built for the zombie au and hope this is something worthy of your writing energy.

hi!!! thank you sm for your request, hope this is OK! tw general apocalypse hardship + r falls n cuts her head ♥︎ fem!reader

There are people hunting you. 

At first, you and Steve can't really believe it. You're on a steady course toward the city after a couple of weeks scraping together food, looking for any sign at all of civilization. Of his friends. 

You've told Steve too many times that you'll follow where he goes, no matter what, for as long as he can stand you. And at first he'd joked that might not be very long. These days he just squeezes your hand or your arm or your shoulder and says, "Forever, then." 

It happens too often, the sound of a gunshot that travels, smoke from a campfire not far behind. You and Steve are on the same page about it — whether friend or foe, you have to be careful. Letting your guard down now would be the stupid thing to do. You've survived for months now together, through hordes of zombies and unfortunate accidents, the time you got locked into a walk-in freezer with a zombie, and the time you fell ten feet through the floor of a dilapidated townhouse and survived the concussion from hell. Wasting all these second chances to try and broker contact with whoever it is that's following you would be childish. 

Steve holds out his hand to help you over a ditch. Seemingly man-made, though it could've been a tributary run dry. 

"Careful," he says, smiling, "it's slippery." 

"Don't let me fall." 

"No, I won't," he assures you, offering his second hand as you step across. You take it and he pulls you over, making one of his happier sounds. 

You could communicate through sounds alone with him now. At first, Steve hadn't spoken much. Shell-shock, you'd summarised. He was agitated, angry, and scared, though he the latter well. He was trying his best to get you both through circumstances nobody has ever had to go through, and you'll admit you were more of a burden than a help at first, so you won't blame him for being so stressed. You've learned a lot now, how to defend yourself and how to defend him.

His sounds continue and you translate as best as you can. This one's pleased. It's practically a well done.

"Do you think we should zig zag again?" you ask. 

"You read my mind." He pulls the strap of your backpack into place over your shoulder and starts to walk again, your fingers intertwined, joined hands a tether. "I think… Maybe it would be a good idea to find somewhere to hide."

"We don't know if these creeps are watching us. What if we hide and they box us in?" 

Steve's grip on your hand tightens. "I don't like being out here. The cold will kill us before they do." 

He's right. And you're right too. The cold will kill you, and whoever it is that's expending the incredible effort it is to follow you around will probably kill you too if they find you. You've done well in evading by keeping strict time, sleeping for only a handful of hours before you're on the run again, but you can't cover your tracks well. The campfire at night gives you away, yet without it you'll freeze to death. 

You're fucking terrified. Steve hasn't shown it, but you figure he must be too. What could it be worth to follow you like this? You're only two people. 

You bite your cheek hard and wince, startled at your own thoughts. What could you be worth? Beyond your packs, all you have are your bodies. A sinkhole opens beneath you and swallows you whole, a thousand scary visions flashing quick like pictures on a projector. They want to hurt you. They must. And there are a lot of ways to do it. 

"Maybe we should hide," you say quietly. 

Steve rubs the back of your hand with his thumb. "Whatever we do, we just gotta be smarter about it than they are. Every night we practically lead them to us with the fire, so. If we get inside, we won't need that, but-" He looks forward toward the horizon, where you can just barely make out the shadowy impressions of buildings at the end of the highway. "I don't think we're gonna get there any time soon." 

Like he can feel your anxiety, he adds, "They're slowed down by all the same stuff as us. That's not gonna change. Maybe a geek'll do us a favour and eat them before-" He drops off. 

"Before what?"

You're side by side now. He turns his face to yours. "I don't know. Before we run into bad luck, I guess." 

You walk in silence for a few seconds, and then you nod and swing his hand. "Bad luck, us?" 

"My sarcasm is corrupting you." 

Sarcasm, maybe. You jinx yourselves. 

Steve is clearing a place for the night. There's not much you can do besides sweep aside the bigger twigs and lay your tarp to try to cut the cold. Now that you're comfortable practically climbing on top of one another every night you're warmer, but the earth soaks up cold, and it's unforgiving. 

You don't know how it happens, how they manage to catch up, but suddenly there's laughter from not far away, and it isn't the fun kind. Far from Steve's light and bubbly chuckle or your own loud, clumsy giggling, this laugh is cruel. This laugh is winning. 

Steve doesn't even stop to roll up the tarp. A branch snaps like a firework through the trees and you both flinch to one another. He takes your hand. 

"We're gonna run," he says, more calmly than you'd expect from him. 

You run. Rucksacks pulled tight to your bodies, linked by trembling fingers curled aching around each others, you run through the trees. The sun sinks low toward the horizon and through the silhouette of the city like a drunken lover coming home; slowly, so slowly, a wobbling egg yolk dripping down, and then it's fallen to the floor and disappeared in a queasy flash.

You can see enough to race around trees, up slopes, enough to see the highway a couple hundred yards to the right, and to see Steve's hand in yours swinging in front of you both as you sprint. His breaths come loud, gasping, and you realise you should be taking bigger breaths too as a stitch starts to form. You run through it, you don't mention it, horrified at the idea of stopping even for a second. 

Each step burns, and the heavy weight of your pack digs into your shoulders. The light fades more and more and soon you feel like you and Steve are stumbling blind, wondering how much longer you can last. You'd never have thought before all of this that your endurance would stretch so far, but the difference sometimes between life and death is the strength to keep running. 

You trip on a tree root and tumble forward, going fast enough to feel your feet leave the ground. Your breath catches, any air that had managed to sink into your desperate lungs punching out of you instantly. 

"You're okay," Steve says quickly, though he can't know. "You're okay." His hand hook under your armpits and he drags your shaking body behind the too-skinny trunk of a tree, the roots you'd tripped on like ice under your thighs. 

You try to look at him and find yourself blind in one eye. 

"Steve," you say pathetically, hand flying to your face. 

"Shh, shh," he shushes, a distinct trembling in his voice. "It's okay. You're okay." 

"My eye-" 

He holds his hand over your mouth. You pant through your nose and squirm, but he only presses down harder, so hard your teeth hurt. 

"I'm sorry," he pleads desperately, a whisper, "I'm so sorry, you need to be quiet." 

You whimper into his palm. 

"You're bleeding," he whispers. He opens his mouth to continue but stops, head tilted to one side, listening. When he doesn't hear anything, he continues, "You're bleeding from a cut on your forehead. It's in your eye. It's-" He swallows hard. "It's all over you." 

His hand softens. 

"You need to whisper," he says. 

You nod. He pulls his hand away. 

Words won't come. You're shaking hard, teeth clicking together, and Steve is touching you. His hands at your neck, his thumb wiping blood away from your mouth. He pulls you away from the tree so he can dig in your bag for the first aid kid, a shoddy, near barren plastic case. 

He tries to open it and it's too dark. It's so dark, and the bleeding won't stop, blood heaving down your face in a bumping stream to your collar. 

"I'm- I'm gonna-" Steve's hands are not steady. "I'm gonna wipe your face, and- fuck." 

Your chest is moving erratically. You both need to calm down. You need to be quick. What's the best way to make him — make you both — focus? 

You take his hand, the one that isn't covered in blood, and bring it to your lips. You kiss him weakly at first, better on your second attempt. 

"It's okay," you say. 

He drops his forehead against the back of his hand briefly. 

"It's okay, Stevie," you say, lips moving against the lines of his palm. His lifeline, his loveline. 

He takes a deep breath. "Shit," he mumbles, sitting back on his knees again. 

"I don't think they followed us," you whisper. 

He cups your face. "I don't think they could. We were fast." 

You laugh and abruptly close your mouth to stifle it. 

In the dark like this, the only light the slim trimmings of the moon, Steve looks at you like you're everything. Awed, and undoubtedly afraid, he takes a few seconds to recalibrate and then he gets to work. Wipes your oozing cut with a winning apology, and then unclips the torch from his belt to shine at it assessingly. 

You keen when he shines it in your eyes. 

"Open your eyes, honey," he says, pet name a warmth that cuts through the creeping cold and lingering panic, "Wanna see if you're concussed." 

He finishes his assessment and bandages you up. It's a haphazard job and you don't have any disinfectant. "It'll be alright. I'll make it alright, we'll- we'll see how it heals, and we'll go looking for something if we need to. It's not too big."

Adrenaline rush is the worst crash. 

Exhausted, overwhelmed, Steve drops his face into the crook of your neck and pulls your face toward his carefully, kneeling between your open legs. You pull them up and lock him in with your knees, hurting all over. 

"That was so fucking scary," you say. 

He pats the back of your head. "Yeah. Yeah. It was." 

That's enough for a while. 

Every sound makes you jump. Steve disentangles from you only to search the sky for smoke, and he folds back into your arms with a relieved huff. "Fire to the east. It looks… I don't know. Far." 

"Maybe tonight we should just…freeze." 

He rubs his scratchy face into your neck. "We won't freeze." 

Steve insists you sleep between his legs. You swap places, and he crosses his arms over your tummy, hands tucked intertwined with his into your pockets. You don't have to ask who's sleeping first because it's always you, and you won't waste time. You turn your face away from his chest and kiss his bicep, or rather the coat and sweater and long sleeve tee that covers it. 

When he wakes you up in the twilight hours, it's with great news. 

"I think they gave up on us. I heard, uh, some friendly fire." 

"No way. They killed each other?" 

He grins at you. "I don't know for sure, but- it sounded like it. The campfire's out, too." 

Steve takes his turn to sleep. You wake him when the sun rises, and the next night you search the sky for smoke and find none. Whoever it is that's hunting for you, they've stopped. 

"I think we're more than safe to light a fire tonight. Which is awesome. I think my ass has hypothermia," Steve says, thigh to thigh with a handful of your knee.  

You beam, hand skirting dangerously low on his back. "Wan' me to check?" 

"Pervert. Finish your dinner." 

Dinner is half an apple and four big sips of water. With every jaw movement your new cut pulls. You can barely feel it, euphoric to be flirting with him, alive and well and warmed by a huge celebratory fire.

—