#help I'm stuck looking at posts about

[pasta-pardner]

spotify | john marston's revenge quest, set to music from 1960s spaghetti westerns.

Fun detail: the opening cutscene for Red Dead Revolver (2004) features an instrumental version of "His Name Is King". The lyrical version is oddly fitting for John, given that it's a song about seeking vengeance for a dead brother.

[itsemmiy]

Whiteboarfox doodle

Loop <3

( @pillowspace whiteboarfox)

[sheyshen]

Something I want to build on with vincent at some point is how much the years of being an adventurer has taken a toll on him. he spent so long just being angry at the world but as he gets closer and closer to carteneau he does start recognizing how reckless he's been and the mistakes he's made over the years. friendships (especially with layla and nhea) helping him get a little closer to how he used to be before finally stopping and trying to do better for himself when he loses his leg. and the fact that guilt has really solidified in him to still make him push himself in his healing rather than combat (though sometimes still pushing himself too far) and how the years of treating himself like a weapon have taken a toll on his mind (he has terrible nightmares that only a select few have been able to help him through it)

[run-down-that-dream]

.

[girlwiththegreenhat]

seeing that someone I follow was also at anime Midwest makes me wonder if we passed at some point at the con? how many people I follow on Tumblr have I passed in person but didn't know? If you were win cosplay I may have even taken a picture with you? Small world huh?

small world! :V i was not in the cosplay contest as a cosplayer, but my brother was and you can spot him from a mile away (HE WAS IN THE CONTEST AND WON BEST PROP AND I WILL CONTINUE TO SHOVE IT IN EVERYONES FACE HEEHEE)

(... if you saw a scrungy looking lilith clawthorne guiding him around like a blind puppy because he can't see for Shit with this thing on, dat me :3)

[autisticlee]

I started with posting about my autistic experience on twitter, reading posts on there, and interacting with people there.

then twitter got unbearable, so I moved back here and made a new account and side blogs to mirror twitter and lurk in the tags.

i've noticed a difference between autism twitter and autism tumblr from the big algorithm-controlled posts I usually see:

autism twitter makes me feel like i'm not allowed to say autism disables me or causes problems in life

while autism tumblr makes me feel like i'm not allowed to feel positively about being autistic and can only see it as a struggling disability.

the contrast makes me dizzy 😵‍💫 it's like no one wants to see the perspective of other people when we are all different. each side wants their narrative to be the told one.

[the-search-continues]

No I didn't find the Melleona blog - I just saw your reblog/clue/thing and thought that was probably what you were alluding to

It probably was because I had planned to actually set up the blog but unfortunately never got to it.

I'm sorry to disappoint though <:(

[the-weeping-dawn]

There's a reason I might have the main personal canon involve what I'm still calling the unethical polycule* but it also includes a number of hc elements including: a failed act one attempt at clawing her out from the absolute, explaining a bit more about what the prism situation is, generally keeping Minthara informed on that level, and hi-key included on larger decisions.

*where it's everything else here that's unethical

[apatheticsunday]

Gotham TikTok

AKA "Danny moves to Gotham and records TikToks with absolutely deranged captions. He films Get Ready with Me in Gotham videos, fit checks, and even A Day in the Life of a Ghost in Gotham! Except everybody is freaking the fuck out in the comments" prompt idea!

No, you don't understand, I'm obsessed. Like, what if Danny's idea of "safe" is just... anything that doesn't actively try to kill him? So Metropolitians, Star City, and Central City citizens are literally biting their nails and sweating bullets every time he posts, because what if he gets merc'd by the "Eight Heads in a Duffel Bag" Red Hood?? And that's one of the nicer villains in Gotham. And Danny's just like wow, this place is niiiiiice, I haven't even been murdered yet!

Maybe Jazz took a 12-year-old Danny to Gotham to escape their parents. Gotham's cheap, dirty, and doesn't ask questions: it's the best place to go to disappear because damn near half the city's population are either super villains, hostages, dead, or vigilantes. She gets a job at an understaffed hospital as a clinical psych intern. She enrolls Danny for online schooling because she's scared a public high school would be too easy for their parents to track.

Which leaves Danny alone for hours. He makes a TikTok account called "Danny Phantom" because, c'mon, he's a kid. And, like most kids, he doesn't really comprehend the idea of a digital footprint or that his account is public, accessible by literally anybody.

He's also a little shit. So, the first TikTok he uploads is of a man getting carjacked, but the caption reads: love to see people helping each other. remember it's always okay to ask for help! it's okay, I don't know how to parallel park, either :)

And you just see this guy in a mask shove a businessman away from his car, gesturing with his gun, before getting into the driver's seat. Except the car is parallel parked so the carjacker just slowly inches back and forth between a Prius and a Honda until he can wedge himself out of the parking space. And then gets stuck in stand-still traffic. The TikTok goes viral. It's talked about on the Gotham news and Gothamites are losing their shit, pointing out the exact moment you can see the carjacker start to soundlessly cuss through the car's windshield or the way the businessman is just... standing on the side of the road, watching with a deadpan look.

Danny doesn't know about it being on the news, but he sees all the comments, likes, reposts, and feels something. He wonders if this is what Ember feels every time people listened to her music. So, he keeps posting. Usually, it's short three-second videos of a hilariously unexpected situation with an even more deranged caption. But then he's accidentally caught in the reflection of a store front while recording and doesn't know, posts it like he always does; only for this TikTok to go viral, too. Because "Danny Phantom" is a child??

He doesn't notice the shift in his comments, but the public opinion quickly changes from wow, Gothamites are just like that huh lol to what the FUCK, kid, get inside!!! anytime he posts.

Except Danny never gets hurt. Even in the most dangerous situations, when you'd think this kid is a goner for sure, he's just happily yapping in the background. He's so different from Gothamites because he lacks that dead-eyed, despair-inducing aura of someone who's lived in a hellmouth their whole lives. (A couple people post that Danny kind of reminds them of Golden Boy Brucie Wayne, all air-headed and unrealistically optimistic, and suddenly there's memes of "what happens when you've never gotten shot in Gotham" or "how i act when Commish Gordie accuses me of shoplifting again" with them side-by-side.)

And then Danny's posts go viral again and again. Danny doing a fit check with a blond-haired woman with a checkered outfit, she ruffles his hair and kisses him on the cheek. A picture of him wearing an old jean jacket with a bright red lipstick smear on his cheek is trending for weeks. Spoiler, fully suited up in an all-purple vigilante attire, and him shoving gas station hotdogs in their mouths. He even has videos of him clearly in Killer Croc's lair, with comments of are you in the sewers??? DANNY??? and he responds, no, i'm in mom & dad's basement :) (Waylon Jones is actually sitting behind him in one of the videos, intently watching a TV show on an iPad.)

Everybody adores Danny - Rogues, Gothamites, even the Bats. (There's at least six videos of Nightwing teaching Danny how to do backflips, handstands, and other acrobatic moves. Even the youngest Robin has been caught on camera quietly talking with Danny, a shocking lack of violence that left half the city's population suffering from cuteness aggression for the kids.)

So, yeah, Danny belongs to Gotham.

But the internet is widely accessible and Danny made it so, so easy to find him. Jazz obviously didn't know he was posting videos of himself publicly; she was too tired after back-to-back 12 hour shifts at the hospital that she hadn't even checked social media in months. Otherwise, she would've told him to be careful, to never show his face or post his real name on the internet. Then again, Jazz would never have expected all of Gotham (and Superman himself, totally endeared by the kid after Kon and Jon showed him a couple TikToks) would beat the absolute shit out of anybody going after Danny.

Imagine GIW's surprise when they track down Amity's former residential Ghost only to find an entire city frothing at the mouth to protect their Phantom.

[elizzsush]

Beastmen Courting Rituals | TWST

Savanaclaw Dorm X Reader

Leona X Reader, Ruggie X Reader, Jack X Reader,

---- BeastFolk typically have instinctual ways they begin 'courting' or a relationship, some even taught from a young age certain courting rituals. (Non-Human courting rituals part 1/3)

Note: Fun fact, I began making Fae courting first but then I posted the future kid thing and didn't want to post two Diasomnia so close together!

Octavinelle Ver | Diasomnia Ver.

Jack:

It started very small, one day he was there, the next he was there again, and the next he was also there.

He was always there.

Then it got a bit... weird? You noticed that when he would approach you, he was making this grumbling, whining sounds? You don't even think he realized it. You chose to ignore this fact for now, maybe it was just because he was a beast man? You didn't want to be rude by saying anything- or make him feel embarrassed.

After that he began to help you with your hair more as well. Well, your general appearance. He'd help you fix your uniform and brush off any dust or anything you'd may want or need help with. In turn you helped him back, it was only fair after all!

Never mind his flushed face while you did this, moving small hairs back in place and picking any particles off his own uniform.

"There's our dynamic pair! beauty and the beast man." Ace teased, a confident grin on his face while you sat down at the table, Jack not too far behind you.

Jack just rolled his eyes, a small blush on his face as he ignored Ace. Aka, while he did the smart thing to do. You, however, have yet to learn that Despite so many months of friendship and raised an eyebrow at the Card boy. "What are you talking about." You rolled your eyes at the boy.

"You don't know? but it's so obvious!" Ace frowned, Grim nodding beside him in agreement, though you doubted he even knew what the boy was talking about. "His tail is always wagging like a fan when he's talking to ya! He's totally in l-" just as Ace was about to finish speaking Jack piped up, his ears straight on his head in an alert manner and his tail stiff behind him.

"I didn't get anything to drink when we got food." He excused himself, you tried to get a look at his face because he wasn't looking at you but he didn't look back and stood up.

Glancing at his tray, you didn't fail to notice the milk carton on it. Plush, Jack was always the prepared, diligent one. That was so odd... You glanced back at Ace only to find him laughing to himself like the funniest thing just happened. "Whatever, where is Deuce?" You rolled your eyes.

"Why should I know? I'm not his mom."

After that, Ace started calling you dense. Maybe you were because you really didn't know what the hell he was talking about.

After that it was like there was a switch in Jack. He began to be touchier, not that you minded of course! Cuddling with friends is always nice, and you liked to think it was because of his more... animalistic features and instincts he was cuddlier.

But somehow it felt more intimate. He'd nuzzle his face into your neck and hang off of you like he was a coat instead of a large man who was... well jacked.

You'd often wrestle him off of you because he had gotten into the habit of, as you said before, hanging off of you! He'd whine and almost instinctually wrestle you back to stay into his place.

You may not be as strong as him, but you also didn't hate the way he'd run with you at P.E. You knew he could easily run laps around everyone, but instead he stuck with you. Smiling at you exhausted look and cheering you on. "I'm sure Coach Vargas wouldn't mind us taking a break?" He laughs a bit awkwardly after you glared at him for suggesting it when he barely even broke a sweat.

It wasn't till after Leona off Handly mentioned something about you smelling like Jack. Even wrinkling his nose and saying that he "didn't have to lay it on that thick." That you started to think, maybe, just maybe, something else was going on here.

So, you went to the library. Got yourself your very own book (that you had to return in two weeks) on Beastfolk Mating rituals.

Suddenly, it made sense why Ace thought you were dense. Apparently, this was commonish knowledge in this world! And maybe you were ignoring pretty obvious signs now that you thought about it.

So, one afternoon when Jack was hanging off of you, that look in his eyes you hadn't noticed till now. You bit his hand. His ears straightened in surprise and he looked at you for a moment. A thick blush on his face.

"Am I dense or are you courting me?" You finally asked now that you had his attention.

"I have been for a while now..." He sheepishly admitted while not looking you in the eye.

____________

Ruggie:

He avoided you like the plague, at first.

Even now, sometimes when he's approaching you, you noticed that he might backtrack and hesitate.

Now he is a lot more relaxed, often hanging off of your shoulder. Now that he knows you won't bite his head off. His tail would wag behind him slightly while he interacted with you. A stark contrast to the stiff, alert eared boy he was just a little while ago!

You will say though, it did take some of your lunches to get here. You'd equate this process to that of getting a scared cat to approach you with treats. Now, you didn't even need the treats to get him around! He'd approach you first now too. Still with hesitance, but once he did come up to you he did seem to enjoy himself.

"He loved hanging off of you and cuddling up to you. He was very handsy, (Like most beast men, you'd later learned) His face often nuzzled into the nook of your neck. "He loved hanging off of you and cuddling up to you. He was very handsy, (Like most beast men, you'd later learned) His face often nuzzled into the nook of your neck.

"It's so weird to see a Ruggie-Senpai hang out with you so much." Deuce said off handedly one afternoon. You two were studying together when he thought of this.

"What do you mean?" You couldn't help but ask the card solider. Putting your pen down as you looked at him curiously.

The boy just shrugged, a odd look on his face. "I don't know, I just thought Hyena beast men were more... You know." he added a bit awkwardly. You decided to drop it there.

"Yeah... Anyway, I think I remember-"

The interaction stood out in your head, however. What exactly did Deuce even mean? After that interaction, you noticed a couple things as well. Beast students would look at you and nodded at you in recognition? Leona's nose would scrunch up a bit when you spoke to him (though he never made any comments on it), and when you walked into Savanaclaw a beast guy once mistook you for Ruggie before he looked at you?

What did any of that even mean?! When you asked Jack, he just said you smelt like Ruggie.

That small interaction you had with Deuce quickly began to send you down a hill of thinking about everything Ruggie ever did! How he hung off of you, and how you two hung out. It got even weirder when Ruggie offered you some food. Like he had been for a while.

This was very out of character for the Hyena boy! How did you not realize it before? So, you asked him about it. "How come you always offer me something when we eat together?"

He blushed a bit looking at you with wide eyes for a moment before shaking his head, "I do that don't I?" he laughed awkwardly, "I mean I bring food home for the neighborhood kids too. We all got to eat; you know?" He shrugged it off. You wondered what that meant, because he didn't do it with anyone else, but you failed to push him on the subject.

Your sad to say, you never fully realized what was happening till someone explained it to you.

He knocked on Ramshackle door with a handful of pretty dandelions and asked you on a date. "Perfect, would you like to um... go out with me?" he asked hesitantly, a nervous smile on his face while he put his head down. Like he was trying to protect his neck...

You said yes and it was after that Leona explained how annoying it was watching you two and basically inadvertently explained everything to you...

"That would have been helpful to know sooner." You grumbled to yourself after talking with the lion.

"Eh? Ignore him shyhehe!~ Ruggie just snickered with his usual sly smile.

____________

Leona:

Leona didn't really have time for games. If he liked, you he'd just come out and say it. At least, that's what you had first thought. Yes, he did use your lap as a pillow and you two did cuddle somewhat regularly. That didn't exactly mean anything. Right?

And yeah, Ruggie did scrunch his nose up and complain that you smelt too much like Leona, but that didn't matter. Leona probably didn't mean to do that; he was probably sleeping.

Did Leona roar at you? Yeah, so what? It was like a yawn; it just came out. No, he wasn't blushing! He couldn't be because you were already looking away in embarrassment.

Leona just didn't like you like that. No matter how many Courting book you read on beast men!

The Lion man in question invited you out to a Spelldrive tournament he had been practicing for. Obviously, you went without a second thought. It would be nice to see the lazy lion not lazing around for once! At least that's how you justified it.

You definitely didn't want to just see your crush play a match.

You couldn't help but notice the whole time, how Leona kept looking at you in your seat. Making sure you had just seen him perform. You'd smile and cheer for him and maybe, just maybe, a sense of pride would build up in his chest.

And maybe it was really nice to hear you cheer, and see you jump up from your seat in excitement. And maybe it was really nice to be able to cheer for him.

So you planned to confess to him after this game. "Leona I really liked you! I have for a while now!" And you did.

"Finally." He yawned and rubbed the back of his neck, you two then went to cuddle in the garden.

Did that mean you two were together now...?

____________

A/N: I know that some dorms aren't like nonhuman, but I can imagine that like Riddle was taught like courting customs in The Queendom of Roses, (Some queen of heart rule) or like the scalding sands have some costumes? Like the world changes because of beastmen/Fae customs and people adapted to that and added it to their own ways of approaching a relationship? Idk lol

Sorry Leona's part was quite short, I was getting tired and just wanted to get this out! But thank you for reading!

[colombogramme]

People really do not give a fuck about Arab boys and men's lives. For more than a year now we've seen the constant dehumanization of Palestinian men and how their lives are deemed worthless.

I've been talking for a while now about my friend Mahmoud Jomaa (@mahmoudjumaa1238) and his difficulties fundraising for even a small goal. He has been at it since March and only recently reached his first goal after months of stagnation, but now we're back at a stage where he doesn't get anything for days on end.

And when I open his fundraiser to take a look at the progress and how little support he gets, I can't help thinking about how a french cop who killed a 17 years old Algerian boy was able to fundraise 1.6 million euros in around a week. A racist cop can become a millionaire by shooting point blank an Arab boy (named Nahel) in little more than a week but Mahmoud can't raise 20k in 7 months to survive a genocide.

Please let that sink in. Do you realize the violence this difference displays? How much villanization and dehumanization we fostered in the Global North to get here? And yes, it's not only the US, Europe has greatly contributed to the current climate of Anti-Arab hate, which in turns facilitate the current escalation of the genocide of Palestinian people.

That's why I can't believe I still have to come on here and ask people to donate to Mahmoud. Yet it makes sense : people just don't give a shit and that's it. They don't care that he already had to evacuate from the North of Gaza because of the constant attacks. They don't care that he is in an area that is currently very dangerous. They don't care that he lost his house, his university, his friends and family members, he is an Arab man. We shouldn't care, we should instead support the cop or the governments killing them right?

This has to stop, his life is worth that of any of you reading this post. I'm sick and tired of having to ask for people's help and constantly explain what he is going through when I shouldn't have to. He needs money to survive, that's it. That should be enough!

So please, help him. Share, donate and make your own posts to promote his fundraiser. He was supposed to reach 15k last month yet he has been stuck at around 12k for weeks. You CAN change that, so don't stay complacent please!

DONATE HERE

Vetted by @/gazafunds

[sophiamcdougall]

I am never going to complain about Greek Duolingo again

I mean, I am. But still.

So, as some of you know, my family has been coming to this tiny Greek seaside village for several years. Just over a week ago I came out here with my mum, under the impression that early September, after the height of the summer heat, would be a good time to have a holiday. ANYWAY Storm Daniel had other ideas about that. Locally things are improving (I'm actually really pissed off about the disaster-porn tone of most English-language media coverage, but that's another post). The power is back on, there's running water most of the time, and though the latter is not drinkable, a truck from the government came and handled out free bottled water yesterday. But we are currently kind of stuck. Can't do tourist things. Can't go home. There aren't any local flights out until Saturday and the road to Thessaloniki is still closed.

So this evening, feeling kind of aimless and depressed, I go down to the nearest beach with a couple of binbags and start cleaning up in an effort to at least do something positive. I always try to do this at least once out here and obviously, after the storm, there's a lot more plastic and rubbish than usual.

At some point I find this large, round bit of metal - some kind of machinery part, I think -- that's too big for the bag, so I take it to the bins on its own, leaving the rubbish bag on the beach. And when I come back for it, something among the stones beside it moves.

Specifically, it pulls its head sharply inside its shell

So, meanwhile I've been trying to learn some Greek with the help of Duolingo.

I currently have a 33-day streak and... I have questions. Shouldn't I be able to use the past or future tenses by now? Shouldn't I be able to say "x is like y"? I can't do those things. But one thing I absolutely can say all day long is έχω μια χελώνα : I have a turtle.

This is far from the limit of Duolingo Greek's turtle-related content. "An obsession with turtles" is my mother's characterisation. I can inform you that the turtle is not a bird, and, improbably, that the turtle is drinking milk. I can introduce you to a turtle in company with a horse and an elephant. As far as Duolingo is concerned, it really is turtles all the way down.

Now this, you may be able to see, is not a turtle. It has claws rather than flippers. It is a tortoise. I know there are wild tortoises in Greece: my aunt once rescued a pair of them shagging in the middle of the road -- but that was up in the mountains. I've even seen one myself, but it was also on a road and very dead.

I am 95% certain they don't belong on beaches. There's nothing for it to eat, except, unfortunately, a lot of plastic. Even if it gets off the beach it will immediately find itself on a road where it could get hit by a car. I'm pretty sure it must have been washed down by the floodwater and has been just sitting there, dazed, ever since.

Now obviously the first thing I want to do on encountering this unusual animal is to go and tell my mummy, so I do. The tortoise immediately brightens her day. She agrees that the tortoise is not happy on the beach and needs to be taken somewhere safe. it gets surprisingly wriggly when picked up so we put it in a carrier bag with some grapes and cucumber and go looking for somewhere to rehome it.

We find a path leading up between the houses towards a likely-looking field, but before we get very far a dog in a yard goes berserk and a man's head pops over a fence and demands to know what we're doing. He does this in English, as evidently we're just that obviously tourists.

"I found a tortoise on the beach!" I explain. "We want to find somewhere to put it."

"A what," he asks.

"It's like a, you know," I begin and then to my astonishment I find myself saying... "μια χελώνα"

"Oh! A turtle!" he says.

"But from the land. δεν είναι χελώνα", [it is not a turtle,] I say, as I am worried he will tell me to put it back near the sea where I found it. As it turns out it actually IS a χελώνα, Greek does not distinguish between turtles and tortoises, but I don't know that; I can't even name the days of the week or identify any colours other than pink yet, give me a break.

The man's entire demeanour changes and thaws. He does not worry about my turtle-that-is-not-a-turtle conundrum. He knows where οι χελώνες come from and where η χελώνα μας belongs. He leads us through a gate into a courtyard area.

"[somethingsomething] μια χελώνα," he explains to the assembled onlookers, of whom there are, suddenly, a surprising number.

"ΜΙΑ Χ��ΛΩΝΑ!!!" crows the throng of delighted small children, who are, suddenly, everywhere.

"μια χελώνα!" I agree, accepting that at least for current purposes, that is what it is.

"Μπορούμε να δούμε τη χελώνα σας; [can we see your turtle?]" asks an adorable little girl, shyly, and I understand??

The children fucking love looking at the χελώνα and showing it to them is kind of magical?

I finally put the tortoise down on the grass of this wild area off to the side of the courtyard, and marvel aloud that it is weird that I barely know any Greek except how to say μια χελώνα.

"I think she will soon run off," a kind lady called Aspasia assures me, seeing I remain slightly anxious about its fate. "I don't know why I'm saying 'she'. I suppose because χελώνα is feminine in Greek."

"Yes! I know that!" I exclaim, thrilled.

"Well done!" she says. And also she asks if we are OK for drinking water after the storm and if we need any help with anything and is just generally incredibly lovely and now we know more of the neighbours!

So "μια χελώνα" has just become, by a long way, my most-used and most understood and all-around most conversationally successful phrase in Greek. So I guess I have to admit I was wrong to doubt Duolingo's wisdom: it is correct to be obsessed with turtles. And I concede that prior to learning how to count to ten or to distinguish right from left, the simple ability to yell the word TURTLE over and over again is, it turns out, a crucial element of the responsible traveller's social skills.

(I am pretty fluent in Italian and turtles haven't come up in conversation even once?)

[lightseoul]

CASUAL CASUALTIES (10.6k)

pairing. k. bakugou x reader

synopsis. what was meant to be an innocent trip down to the bridge becomes a national sensation when you get outed as #15 pro-hero dynamight's soulmate on live tv. inconvenient, yes, very much so—but it's not like you have to do something about it. but then the bakugou katsuki himself seeks you out, and you find yourself getting into a whole lot of trouble. inspired by @/andypantsx3's fingerprints. (read on ao3)

c.w. minors dni. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up, post-timeskip/ch 431, soulmate!au, lots of cursing, reader is ill, depictions of mental illness (depressive themes and suicidality), suicide & suicide-related deaths, nsfw/mature themes, minor manga spoilers

a/n. here it is, y'all! while i know the word count and tags are quite daunting, i really hope you give this fic a chance because i'm extremely proud of this one, which i haven't felt about my writing in a while. if you do end up reading it, thank you and i sincerely hope you enjoy it <3

to be fair, you were just…weighing your options.

taking a short trip down to shizuoka’s famous ayumi bridge wasn’t part of your itinerary for the day, not that you’ve been having exceptionally busy itineraries for who knows how long. it was a spur-of-the-moment decision that you periodically second-guessed on the way there, the vivid picture of your unmade but comfortable bed weighing heavily in your mind.

still, and despite yourself, you couldn’t deny the need for fresh air, nor the relief that filled your renewed albeit fatigued lungs as you finally arrived at your destination.

from where you are now standing with your arms folded on top of the relatively short railings, you look past the barricade and down onto the cloudy river below you.

it was an innocent gesture—one borne out of curiosity minus most of the morbidity—but it apparently wasn’t innocent enough, because one moment you were studying the ripples in the distant water, and the next, you’re violently yanked from behind.

you let out an unintentional ‘oof’ as you stumble backward, your body helplessly tugged alongside the blouse that you vaguely register as the thing that’s being pulled back. you probably stagger a few feet away from the edge of the bridge, before unceremoniously falling on your butt.

and as if out of nowhere, pro-hero dynamight emerges right in front of you.

“are you crazy?” he spits out, frenzied. “do you have a fucking death wish?”

you blink. “i—”

he throws his arms up in what you think is defeat, cutting you off, although he’s looking more pissed than resigned. “fucking menaces,” he mumbles loudly under his breath.

a surge of indignation instantly shoots through you, and you open your mouth to spit something back at him, but you don’t get the chance to, because he holds out his hand.

robbed of all words, and quite frankly, barely registering what’s happening, the best you can do is blink at him. again.

his eyebrows furrow, irritation surely bubbling in his veins. his hand stays put, though. “what are you waiting for? get up.”

you hesitate, eyes drifting from his face and down to his hand. unlike his gloved left, his right is bare, and riddled with a plethora of scars. you didn’t know about that, at least from his pictures on tv and social media, unlike the one on his face that is constantly broadcasted for everyone else to see.

you don’t dwell on it further, though, deciding then and there that you want to go home right the fuck now.

you quickly take his hand and help him by pulling yourself up. once you’re upright, you’re just as quick to let go, opting to brush off the dirt stuck to your clothes.

“thanks,” you start, forcing yourself to meet his piercing gaze that’s indubitably boring holes into your face. “…i guess.”

“you guess?” he spews, incredulous, before shaking his head. “never fucking mind.”

“dynamight!”

startled, you whip to look at the source of the voice, and your eyes comically widen when they land on a group of people who look suspiciously like the media. and right behind them are a few police cars dotted with several police officers.

you turn to face bakugou, about to clarify with him if he knows what they’re doing here, but he’s already staring at you, an inexplicable expression etched on his face.

“what?” you can’t help but ask.

he sighs, cocking his head toward the closely approaching herd. “get ready.”

“dynamight!” the woman decked out in a blazer and pencil skirt exclaims, completely oblivious to the concept of personal space as she thrusts her microphone into bakugou’s face. you feel yourself shrink from where you stand slightly to his right, unsure as to whether or not you’re being filmed right now.

you hope you aren’t.

“two negotiations in a row,” she breathes out, disbelieving. “how did you do it?”

negotiations?

“what kind of stupid question is that?” he barks out. “i simply was in the right place at the right time with the first one.”

“oh, you’re too humble!” she quips, signaling the cameraman to steady his shot of the pro-hero’s face. “we came as soon as we could when we heard about what was going down here.”

“yeah, and you could’ve caused the situation to escalate even further than it already did,” he retorts without missing a beat. the reporter’s face falls. bakugou takes that as a sign to go on.

“you’re lucky i arrived and intervened when i did. and how did none of you dipshits think to call the fucking police?”

“i—”

“you’re all too preoccupied with getting your next scoop that you lost your fucking grip on reality and failed to help,” the pro-hero chastises.

he pauses for a second, and you’re about to think he’s finally done with his spiel for the woman’s sake when he glances at you, looking like he’s got something more to say.

and as you find out in the next, excruciating seconds, he definitely has.

the man shoots his arm up, his thumb sticking out, pointing conveniently at you.

“case in point,” he states. “we could’ve had a casualty.”

you gawk at him.

a what?

“i’m sorry,” you start, turning to face the ash-blonde, acutely aware of the inquisitive eyes peering at you, “i think you’re misunderstanding. i wasn’t going to jum—”

“oh my god.”

miffed, you turn again to look at the woman, but now her countenance has gone all pale, looking like she just saw a poltergeist. seemingly speechless, she doesn’t try to get a word out, but what she does is point at bakugou’s wrist.

the man beside you shifts on his feet, uncomfortable. “the fuck are you—”

whatever bite the pro-hero was about to unleash on the reporter gets stuck in his throat when he flips his hand and freezes.

and when you see the familiar-looking timer written on his wrist that reads 00:02:57, you stiffen.

it can’t be.

still, you’ve got to make sure.

and so with bated breath, you slowly lift your right hand, turning it with the palm facing up.

and sure enough, your timer—the one that’s been at zero your entire life—reads just a few seconds after bakugou’s.

he thinks he’s fucking spiderman.

you mentally roll your eyes as you replay the clip of bakugou that went viral a few days ago.

you were able to put two and two together on the way home from the bridge, your conjecture proven correct when you got home and checked your social media accounts, which were crawling with articles and posts about the jumper who the #15th pro-hero dynamight was able to talk down.

he was a middle-aged man who apparently lost custody of his only son in light of his divorce, and couldn’t find a way out of the agony apart from death.

you couldn’t get a good view of his face, since the shots were all focused on bakugou taking his glove off to reach out to the guy, but you figure that’s a good thing. the man’s already fucking suicidal—the last thing he needs is for his privacy to be breached.

you can only laugh at the irony as you parse through your notifications, because lo and behold—they’ve already found you out.

because of course! what story sells better than a notorious hero’s successful negotiation with a jumper?

a notorious hero’s successful negotiation with a jumper who also happens to be his fucking soulmate.

nevermind the fact that you weren’t actually planning to jump that day.

“excuse me?”

you look up from your phone to find a teenage girl peering at you timidly from across the counter.

you tuck the device in your pocket and put on your most cordial smile. “hi! how can i help you?”

she puts what seems to be a fantasy duology on top of the surface between the two of you, before shooting you a shy smile back. “just these two, please.”

you peek at the titles and immediately light up. “great choice! my friend loves these.”

she lets out a delighted sound as you ring up her purchase, and you make small talk as you take her card and pack her books in a brown paper bag.

“have fun reading!” you say as she accepts the package from you, mouthing a quick thanks.

you watch the girl exit the bookstore with a grin you didn’t know you had on your face, which you only catch wind of when you shift your attention back to the next person in line.

because one sight of them has it wiped off your mouth in an instant.

even if they’re decked out in the most unhelpful disguise of a baseball cap, hoodie, and face mask.

still, two can play at this game. and quite frankly, you’re up for roleplaying rather than having a confrontation anyway, with this ridiculous get-up he has on.

and so with the most friendly tone you can muster, you ask: “how can i help you?”

even behind his whole guise, you can see the darkening of his gaze when you put forth the question. “are you serious?”

you tilt your head to the side in fake innocence. “what do you mean, sir? you’re at the counter at a bookstore…”

apparently, that’s enough to rile up the great explosion murder god dynamight, because he angrily tugs his mask down before bobbing his head as if saying ‘seriously’?

you pretend you’re just figuring it out, going the extra mile by letting your mouth form the shape of a small ‘o’, but you can tell he’s not buying it. he glares at you, and you’re smart enough to know it’s a warning, so you cut it out despite yourself.

“the question’s still the same, by the way,” you offer when he doesn’t say anything. “how can i help you?”

his eyebrows furrow. “are you always this fucking nonchalant?”

no, you answer in your head, but he doesn’t need to know that it’s less nonchalance and more apathy. you shrug, “it's either that or panic about the whole situation.”

this time, his eyebrows shoot up. “so you’re not frazzled? like, at all?”

you stop yourself from rolling your eyes just in time. “of course, i am. kind of—at least. the last thing i need is to be scrutinized by the public.”

“that one’s on you, showing up at the same bridge as that jumper.”

you bristle. “i told you, i wasn’t going to jump!”

only belatedly do you realize that you just said that last bit quite loudly, and you hurriedly scan the room to see a few curious faces have glanced your way. you bow slightly in apology, before turning back to regard the pro-hero.

he huffs. “let’s say you weren’t. it doesn’t matter, because we still made contact and now the news is out.”

“so? i don’t see how we have to do anything about it.”

“believe me, i agree.”

you laugh. “wow, who knew the dynamight doesn’t want a soulmate, let alone meet and be tethered to one?”

“laugh all you want, dumbass,” comes bakugou’s reply. “but what i’m about to say is not a laughing matter.”

“do pray tell.”

“fucking—” he starts, before taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. once he’s expelled that air, he fixes his gaze on you. you subconsciously straighten up.

“i need you to put up appearances with me.”

you squint at him. “huh?”

he presses his lips in a tight line. “i’m dropping in the rankings, and i’ll drop even further if i don’t—”

“i don’t see how any of this is my business.”

“—if i don’t do anything palatable about the situation,” he presses on. “it’s costing me and my agency, as much as i fucking hate to admit it.”

you only stare at him, letting the gears in your head turn in light of the newfound information. and when you don’t say anything, bakugou finishes.

“it’ll only be for a while.”

pft.

a while?

you hesitate. of course, you would. there’s absolutely no reason for you to get involved with the pro-hero, especially not now nor in the near, foreseeable future. in fact, you don’t even want to think about how he found out this is where you worked part-time. and you know there’s more where that came from.

you shake your head, “i’m sorry, but there’s no way i can—”

“i’ll pay you.”

you whip to look at him, shocked. “what?”

“you need the money, right?” he asks, and you hate how he’s right. “pr is offering an amount.”

you gulp, hating even more how you’re actually considering this. “how much are we talking about?”

he tells you. you barely catch your jaw from dropping to the floor.

with that amount, you’ll have the luxury of quitting this minimum wage job that you’ve barely been able to keep doing and then some. you’ll be set on your monthly expenses for a couple of months, and maybe even have enough to splurge on the few things that you’ve been wanting to get for yourself but haven’t had the means to.

and all that just by pretending for one to two months, tops?

your name and face are already common knowledge, anyway. there shouldn’t even be a debate.

you stick your right hand out, the one with the ticking timer on your wrist, for him to shake. he extends his, and the sight of the matching numbers sends an unidentifiable sensation down your spine. you try to ignore it.

and just like that, you shake on it, and the deal is on.

besides, you’ve got nothing to lose, anyway.

you push the glass door open, mindful of not adding any more handprints on the already marked surface. the wind chimes you didn’t know were hanging above it from the inside resonate as you enter, and you find yourself suddenly grateful that you at least managed to put on a bit of makeup for today. a few people seated near the entrance glance to look at you, which is probably a good thing for once.

right before bakugou left the bookstore a few days ago, he suggested you exchange numbers, which you agreed to gingerly. you expected radio silence for at least a week and hoped for forever, but a text eventually came later that night, asking for your availability so he could schedule a meet-up in public.

you told him you couldn’t meet until today, probably giving off the impression that you were busy with something, when in reality you were just tired and needed the time to process what was about to happen.

which brings you to now, standing at the doorway of a hip café in the heart of musutafu, scanning the faces for vermillion daggers he has for eyes.

it takes you a second, what with the afternoon crowd slowly encroaching on the establishment and filling up the tables, but you eventually locate him, with the help of the scarred hand he raises to get your attention.

“hey,” you greet when you reach his spot near the back, and he nods at you in acknowledgment. taking a seat across from him, you make it a point to study your position. “are you sure you want to sit here?”

he raises an eyebrow, which you can now see clearly without the shadow of the cap from before. “what, this table not up to your standard?”

exasperation shoots through you, as it always does, but you shake it off. instead, you toss him a tight-lipped smile. “no, it’s just that people might not see us back here. which, you know, kind of defeats the purpose?”

he doesn’t say anything for a beat, gaze fixated on you, before he breaks eye contact and shakes his head. “don’t worry,” he offers. “calculated move. we’re still gonna be spotted, trust me.”

you nod…slowly. you guess that makes sense. if you seat yourselves smack dab at the center, it may come off as the both of you seeking attention, consequently undermining the authenticity of your whole charade. a real high-profile couple would want to keep it low-key.

you snort at what you just called the two of you.

“what?” bakugou asks, defensiveness bleeding into his tone. you look up at him, and you take a second to study his appearance. he ditched the cap and hoodie, only sporting a black shirt and what you think are loose joggers and sneakers.

and with his infamously unruly hair trimmed?

well. you hate to admit it, but he actually looks…nice.

you smile at him, genuinely this time. “nothing.”

he narrows his eyes at you, like he thinks you’re lying out of your ass, but he lets it go. luckily enough, and as if on cue, the waiter arrives to give you the menu and complementary water, and bakugou orders iced tea while you request your go-to drink. you thank the guy before he dashes off to tend to other customers.

“so,” you start when silence falls upon the two of you. “how exactly are we going to do this?”

he picks up his glass. “do what?”

“you know, pretend?” you gesture vaguely with your hands. “do we have to do pda or something?”

you didn’t plan to cause it, but regardless, bakugou chokes on the ice-cold water he was just in the middle of drinking. you reach out to—what, rub his back?—but he holds his hand up to stop you as he coughs his lungs out. you sit back down, and you watch him as he gathers his bearings, wiping the tears that pooled at the corners of his eyes.

“sorry,” you supply, “great job, though. you just announced our presence to everybody.”

at that, bakugou snorts, and you can’t help the chuckle that bubbles out of you. he shakes his head, “dumbass.”

“but no,” he continues, back to being serious, “well, at least for now. as far as pr is concerned, we just have to be seen together until the whole thing dies out and the volatility of my ranking dissipates.”

“okay. that clicks, i guess.”

“you’re still up for it, then?”

now it’s your turn to narrow your eyes at him. “we shook on it, didn’t we? i’m a woman of my word, bakugou.”

“well—”

“and for the last time, i wasn’t going to jump.”

that makes him bark out a laugh so loud that it startles you. grinning, he waves you off. “yeah, yeah. don’t need to get all worked up, princess.”

blazing right past that cursed nickname—you’d first go through hell and high water before you let yourself be flustered in front of this man—you shoot him an expectant look. “well?”

“well, what?”

“are we just gonna sit here and stare at each other for two, three hours? we’ll have to do something, smartass.”

if bakugou is anywhere near bothered by your nickname for him, he doesn’t let it show. instead, he takes the bait. “whaddya have in mind?”

“we can play a conversation game. the one that has prompts?” you fish out your phone from your bag, and you quickly thumb through your apps until you find the one. you click on the button that says ‘play’ and place the gadget at the center of the table.

“there,” you point. “i ask a question and you answer. then we switch and so on and so forth.”

he examines the screen. “sounds lame.”

you scoff. “lamer than sitting and waiting?”

he doesn’t answer for a few seconds, until he finally sighs and nods at you, shifting in his seat as if bracing himself for what’s to come.

“i can go first,” you volunteer, straining to look at the words on display. you cringe when you read them. “do you think i was popular in high school?”

“seriously?” he snickers, and you shrug.

he doesn’t even take a moment to think about it. “well, you work in a bookstore, so no.”

“fair enough. your turn,” you swipe on the screen and turn it 180 degrees so he can see it.

you laugh when his face contorts as he finishes scanning the question. his eyes dart up to glare at you. “who came up with this stupid ass game?”

“just read the question, bakugou.”

he splutters for a beat, ultimately relenting, seething the words through his teeth. “when it comes to relationships, do you think i’m looking for something casual?”

you’re pretty sure you know what the answer is, but you still squint at the man to mess with him.

“are you fucking with me?” he grits out, bug-eyed. “does it fucking look like i’m capable of being casual about anything at all?”

you can’t help it—you throw your head back and laugh.

“stop laughing at me, dumbass.”

you press your lips together in an attempt to quell your mirth, but you burst out laughing again when you catch a glimpse of his reddening face.

“hey—”

“sorry, sorry—it was just—your face—”

“i get it, now quit it.”

eventually, but not immediately, you do. to your relief, bakugou doesn’t forfeit like a sore loser after that round, instead choosing to press on and find an equally incriminating question for you. you bounce off of each other, mainly talking about your respective pasts, like your education, families, and upbringing, although staying considerate enough not to overstep and pry on confidential information.

there were quite a few questions directed towards the present—what you’re currently doing, any nearing plans, current events—and you were okay enough to answer them with minimal detail. the future-oriented ones, though, you barely manage to skirt around and not respond to. you noticed bakugou looking at you a little too closely during those instances, but you feigned indifference.

that’s all you could do, really.

even then, and without you noticing, the hours pass by, and by the time you actually look past the prompts and up to your phone’s clock, it’s already 5:05 pm, a good four hours past your agreed-upon meeting time.

when you glance back up at bakugou, his face reads the same—mild shock at the fact that you were too engrossed in your conversation to notice the sky getting dark and the streetlights illuminating the walkways beyond the coffee shop’s glass walls turning on one by one.

“sorry,” you say as you swiftly take your phone and lock the screen. “i didn’t mean to keep you.”

“no,” he counters, pocketing his own. “i didn’t notice, either.”

you smile at him as you put on your bag. “still think it’s lame?”

“yes,” he promptly replies, a smirk now decorating his sharp features. “but i had fun, or whatever the fuck.”

and for the nth time that afternoon, you laugh.

he texts you first that night, to your surprise.

(8:38 pm) bakugou katsuki: thanks. for coming out today.

from where you were sprawled lazily on your mattress, hair still wet from that shower you almost didn’t take, you thumb out a response.

(8:39 pm) you: no problem, boss 🫡

you press send before you can overthink things. instead, you let the warm feeling of someone else’s gratitude bloom in your chest and bask in it. that doesn’t get to happen for too long, though, because another message arrives.

(8:40 pm) bakugou katsuki: don’t call me that. by the way, did you see the news?

you feel your brows crease.

(8:40 pm) you: what news?

ping.

(8:40 pm) bakugou katsuki: bakugou katsuki sent you a link

you immediately click on the string of words, and you’re redirected to an article. it takes a while to load—the internet is sometimes spotty at your modest condominium unit—but when it does, your jaw drops.

because right at the center of which is an image of you and bakugou at the café.

“holy shit.”

before anything else, you zoom in on your face, because priorities, right? you stare at the bunch of pixels for a good few minutes, before ultimately deciding there’s nothing you can do about it anyway. besides, it’s not like this was the first glimpse the public has had of your appearance. despite yourself, you check bakugou’s, and of course, the man looks like he just came straight out of a magazine shoot.

you then read the title, which must’ve been written in haste in an attempt to get ahead of a random netizen going viral. soulmates spotted: pro-hero dynamight seen with the girl from the bridge.

well.

at least they’re not calling you a jumper.

still.

(8:44 pm) you: seriously? girl from the bridge?

another ping.

(8:44 pm) bakugou katsuki: still at the fucking headline? hurry to the end, dumbass.

you roll your eyes, mainly because you can—perks of living alone and all. skimming through the sentences, you mouth the words to yourself—a rehash about who you are, the contact from a few days ago, eyewitnesses and accounts from today—until you land on the thing you think bakugou’s been trying to highlight.

in light of recent events, bakugou katsuki, who recently dropped several spots due to unfavorable encounters with citizens, has risen in the charts to #13.

you beam.

you and bakugou hang out a couple more times over the course of the next few weeks.

your get-togethers mainly depend on his schedule—which you gawked at how hectic it was when he first described it to you—even more now that you’re officially unemployed. your contractual obligation at the bookstore ended just in time as your first paycheck from the dynamight agency arrived, and you took the impeccable timing as the universe’s way of telling you to quit so you could instead spend your time freely on hobbies that you haven’t had the energy for.

on the days that you do meet, though, you end up dedicating a huge chunk of your waking hours to the endeavor. it’s like that meme of a google calendar, with the get ready for meeting, meeting, and recover from meeting blocks taking up the entire 9 to 5.

this was definitely the case for your fourth rendezvous, which you spent at a park near the bridge where you first met. he didn’t give you any details, so you walked into it blindly with a full face of makeup, hair done, and a tote bag full of finger food and some beverages in tow. needless to say, you were surprised when you arrived to the bakugou katsuki on a plaid orange picnic blanket, with what looked like handmade sandwiches displayed for hungry onlookers to see.

“don’t start,” he preempts when he sees you eyeing the snacks as you sit down.

you blink at him innocently, a smile tugging at your lips. “i wasn’t going to.”

he frowns. “quit grinning, would you? i just thought it’d be nice to get some fresh air.”

nodding solemnly, you bring out your share of rations. “sure.”

you brace yourself for any snide remark about your pitiful food—at least, as compared to his handcrafted ones—but they don’t come. instead, what you get is a side eye, before: “why’d you look like you’re going to an event, or some shit?”

you whip to face him. “huh?”

he gestures to your face.

“oh, this? i just don’t want to look ugly in the photos, is all.”

“ugly?” he spews, as if the word in itself was as hideous as it meant.

“yeah,” you retort defensively, placing the cans of juice on the ground before shifting to look at him. “not that you have to worry about that.”

a pause.

“what’s that supposed to mea—”

“do you have anything you want to do?” you cut him off, changing the topic.

“i—uh—” bakugou stammers, caught off guard. “we can just talk, or something.”

you light up at that, and he scoffs when he sees. “same game?”

“why the hell not.”

he texts you again after the picnic, right as you step out of the train and onto the platform of your stop. you smile when you catch a glimpse of it.

(6:05 pm) bakugou katsuki: at #9 now. thanks.

as you walk up the stairs and onto the streets, you find yourself wondering why this whole ruse has been working like a charm, and the answer is quick to arrive.

humans love narratives, after all.

and what better way to forward the age-old, comforting, and redeeming tale of soulmates than through the prickly, explosive pro-hero they know so well?

you don’t hear from each other after that. you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you nervous just the tiniest bit—he was right, after all. you needed the money, especially after having quit your job. but you tell yourself it’s only been a couple of days, to trust that he’ll text when it’s time to make another public appearance, and that he’s way above ghosting you like you’re easily dispensible, regardless of whether or not you do feel that you are.

so, in an attempt to stop obsessing over this thing you’ve got going on with bakugou, you drag your ass out of bed and head to the nearest mall to run a few errands. you realize when you get to the supermarket that you forgot to catalog the things you actually needed to buy, cursing yourself when you do. still, you try your best to get on with it, relying instead on your hazy memory of what needs replenishing.

a good thirty minutes later, and with your grocery–filled tote bags hanging from your shoulders, you trek towards the pharmacy and fall in line. as always, there’s a long queue, but you eventually reach your turn, promptly buying your necessary meds and hightailing it out of there.

you consider booking a taxi instead of commuting home when you eventually feel the strain of the weight on your shoulders, but decide against it. the temperature is pretty decent anyway, you think to yourself as you walk and relish in the cloudy yet slightly windy weather. you study the buildings that you pass by, partly to distract yourself from how your bags are getting heavier and heavier by the minute, when your eyes land on a particular complex and you stop.

it’s either you’re going crazy, or you’ve been passing by the dynamight agency a million times and you never noticed.

you stand there for what feels like an eternity, peering at the floor-to-ceiling glass windows and letting the internal tug-of-war play out inside your head, until you ultimately let the curiosity win. slowly and with caution, you take a few steps towards the entrance. you honest-to-god weren’t planning on stepping foot inside the establishment, but apparently, the equally glass doors are automatic.

you falter for a moment, eyes wide as saucers like a deer caught in the headlights as the “gates” slide open for you, before making the split-second decision to enter. it was either that or look stupid in front of everyone in the lobby who’s now staring at you, anyway.

luckily, you don’t get to stand there—awkward as shit—for a second longer because one of the receptionists hurries over to where you’re positioned.

the lady beams at you. “good afternoon—”

“hi,” you supply, “i was just—”

“y/n, right?”

crap. “uh, yes.”

her grin widens. “you’re just in time! bakugou-san just clocked out.”

“oh, i wasn’t—”

“y/n?”

the two of you whip to look at the back of the large room, and sure enough, the owner of the increasingly familiar gruff voice is looking right at you, just as shocked at you being here as you are.

you can only watch him—in all his regularly clothed, duffel bag-carrying glory—as he briskly walks towards where you are.

a waft of his heady perfume hits you just as he arrives at your side. “what are you doing here?”

what the fuck are you supposed to say? “i, uh—”

“she must’ve come to visit you, sir,” the receptionist pipes up chirpily.

at that, bakugou regards her with a look—one that says, do you mind? and you guess he must use that a lot around here, because she snaps her mouth closed in an instant, and bows before retreating to her spot behind the counter.

you keep your eyes trained on the woman as she scurries, wishing the ground would swallow you up before you’re forced to look at the pro-hero. but then he says your name again, and your head creaks to face him as if it’s got a mind of its own, its automaticity akin to that of vines winding to get the smallest peek at the sun.

“well?” he demands, brow raised in waiting.

“i was just going home and noticed your building was on the way,” you answer truthfully, a tad bit embarrassed. you shouldn’t have stopped and let your curiosity get the better of you.

he studies you for a second longer before his gaze drops to the things you’re carrying. “you were walking home? with those?”

“yeah…” you respond, voice small. “don’t worry, they’re not that heavy,” you lie.

and before he can call you out on your deceit, you throw the question back at him. “how ‘bout you?”

the second it tumbles off your lips, you knew it was fucking stupid.

“…i work here?”

there it is. in a last-ditch effort to save face, you let out a laugh, although it comes out a bit stilted. he narrows his eyes at you, but if you didn’t know any better, you’d think the man was amused.

“let me drive you home,” he offers out of the blue, you almost choke.

“what? no, i’m okay.”

“your shoulders are about to give out,” he says pointedly. “don’t be fucking stubborn.”

“seriously, i’m alright,” you insist, and he sighs. you turn it right back at him, “don’t you have somewhere to be? you’re actually leaving early for once.”

and strangely enough, he is. from the few weeks of knowing knowing him, you’ve learned that the man puts in overtime almost every single day, which has been one of the reasons why your hangouts were always scheduled on the weekends.

“‘m visiting my parents,” comes his curt reply.

you beam at him. it’s funny how picturing this hulking brute of a man as his parents’ son makes you feel warm. “that’s so nice of you.”

“‘s nothing,” he dismisses, before: “they’ve been asking about you, you know.”

“me?” you repeat lamely. “what about me?”

he shrugs. “just basic information about you, how we’re doing, and all that crap…”

and when you don’t say anything, he just goes straight for it. “they want you to visit.”

you gape at him.

“but don’t be pressured, and shit,” he backtracks. “i know that’s a tall order.”

huh.

“…i’ll think about it,” you eventually offer with a nod. and you will—later. when you’ve got your wits about you. but for now, you hastily go through your bags and pick out the thing.

“here,” you say, just as you thrust the small bouquet of orange tulips toward him. “give these to your mom. or dad. or both, really.”

his eyes dart between you and the flowers and then back at you again. great, you think to yourself. you’ve successfully rendered the man speechless.

“take it,” you assert after a moment. “they’re better off in you guys’ hands, anyway.”

he examines them for another while, before he finally takes them off your hands.

“thanks.”

you only smile at him. to your pleasant surprise, he flashes a small one back.

(9:06 pm) bakugou katsuki: i’d tell you to check the news but i know it’ll take you a century. i’m at 6th now.

the drowsiness that was just clouding your brain wards off like smoke that’s being fanned away. you sit up on your couch, rubbing your eyes with one hand while you type out a response with the other.

(9:07 pm) you: ha. and congrats!!! that’s great to hear 🥳

you barely get to adjust your butt’s position when a notification pops in.

(9:07 pm) bakugou katsuki: thanks. and my parents loved it, just so you know. the old hag especially.

you smile. another message.

(9:08 pm) bakugou katsuki: she wants you to come over for dinner this weekend.

your face falls. shit. you didn’t see this coming.

(9:09 pm) you: so soon?

your default ringtone resounds across your one-bedroom unit.

(9:09 pm) bakugou katsuki: she’s in a rush. say no if you don’t want to.

you pause, suddenly acutely aware of the guilt that’s stewing in the pit of your stomach. is deceiving his parents necessary, when all you need is to put on an act for the general public? still, bakugou did say his mother was in a rush. maybe he just got sick of her insistent nagging.

you take a sharp inhale.

(9:12 pm) you: i’m down 🫡

and just because there’s nothing more fun than pulling at his leg:

(9:12 pm) you: …granted i’ll get paid for it 😊

ping.

(9:13 pm) bakugou katsuki: you and your greedy ass. fine.

“and so that’s how i got masaru here to say yes to a date!”

you laugh as mitsuki loops an arm around the shoulder of the brunette sitting beside her, who only chuckles to himself, a faint pink sitting high on his cheeks. you chance a glance at bakugou, and sure enough, he’s rolling his eyes at his mother’s finishing line.

“what?” he quips defensively when you toss him a pointed look. “i’ve heard this story a million times.”

“and you’re gonna hear it again, tsuki,” mitsuki replies unapologetically.

bakugou only groans as you smile at the couple from across the table. “i think that was an excellent story, mitsuki-san.”

“thank you, y/n. but enough about us!” she wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, and you feel your stomach drop. “how ‘bout you two, huh? what’s the deal?”

“the deal is you’re being nosy as fuck,” comes bakugou’s snappy retort.

“come on, katsuki,” masaru implores, a playful lilt in his tone. “we’d love to hear about how things are going between the two of you.”

“is the press being all up in your ass?” mitsuki demands, “because i can tell them to fuck off if you need me to.”

“sure, if you want to fucking embarrass me.”

“you know what, i’d actually love to do that.”

“fucking hag—”

you worriedly watch the two ash blondes as they go at each other’s throats, before you look at masaru for help. he only shoots you a meek albeit unalarmed expression, which is enough to tell you this isn’t an uncommon occurrence in the bakugou household. thankfully, though, they calm down after a beat, opting to glare daggers at each other instead.

“to answer your question, mitsuki-san,” you take the gamble and interject, and everybody whips to look at you, “they’re being quite harmless. you know, minus all the circulating information about my life.”

at that, mitsuki’s joyful countenance morphs into one of sorriness. “i’m afraid that’s part of having a soulmate with a high profile, dear. it doesn’t help that you were being filmed when you both found out.”

“yeah, well, there’s not much we can do about it,” you offer with a genuine smile.

“is that why you’re just leaning into it?” asks masaru. “hanging out in public and all?”

“uh—”

“obviously,” bakugou cuts you off. you turn to look at him, stunned, before shifting back to face the couple.

“uh, yes,” you continue, “we figured there wasn’t any point in hiding anymore.”

that seems to perk mitsuki up. “hide what, tsuki?”

and when neither of you says anything: “are you trying to tell us something?”

you sneak a glance at bakugou, only to find him already looking at you. you stare at each other for what feels like a minute short of forever, before he breaks eye contact and cooly says the next thing.

says the next thing while simultaneously pulling the rug from under your feet.

“we’re dating,” he declares, and you sit there, witnessing his parents’ eyes bug out in surprise, hoping yours aren’t betraying the very same emotion you’re feeling right now.

“really?”

“oh my god! since when?”

bakugou huffs, practically exuding annoyance. “yes, and just recently. end of discussion.”

masaru laughs in delight while mitsuki pouts, although you can tell she’s fighting off a grin.

“and here we thought you were gonna die alone, tsuki,” masaru jokes.

“shitty fucking—”

“no, but seriously,” interrupts mitsuki, “i was getting nervous, katsuki. what with my diagnosis, i thought i’d never get to see you be happy with someone.”

you pause, looking at the man beside you. “diagnosis?”

“oh! he didn’t tell you?” mitsuki queries, tone laced with worry. “i don’t mean to be a party pooper, but i just got diagnosed with stage 2 breast cancer a few months ago.”

shit. “i’m so sorry, mitsuki-san—”

the woman waves you off, a beautiful smile adorning her familiar features. “don’t be, dear. the doctor says the outlook is good as long as i strictly adhere to treatment.”

despite that, you can’t help but frown. “how are you feeling these days?”

“i’m good!” she supplies cheerfully. “masaru and i have been spending more quality time together, and katsuki’s been visiting more often. and of course, you being here is an added bonus.”

you toss the woman a grateful look, which she returns generously. mitsuki talks some more about it before shifting the conversation back to less depressing territories, like what bakugou was like growing up and her and masaru’s plans for retirement. eventually, minutes turned into a few hours, and came the time to go home. you profusely thank the couple as you begin to head outside, while bakugou steps out to his porsche to get the engine started.

“i’ll be hoping for your speedy recovery, mitsuki-san,” you say as you step out onto their front porch.

“thanks, dear. and i’ll be hoping that things go well between you and katsuki, okay?”

you force a smile on your face and the words out of your mouth. “i hope so, too.”

the air is tense between you and bakugou as you step out of his car at your complex’s parking lot, then through the doors at the guarded entrance, and even during the elevator ride up to your floor.

neither of you says a word the entire time, sharing only a few nods and glances with you leading the way. you were fully expecting him to just drive off the second you got out of his pristine vehicle, but he ended up exiting with you and following your trail like a shadow.

thankfully, not many people are still around to see you in the lobby or on your floor, even if it’s still 9-ish on a saturday. you both were all for being spotted together, but maybe being seen at either of your residences will cause more trouble than help. you are about to say this to break the ice when you arrive at the end of the hallway and in front of your unit, but bakugou beats you to it.

“i’m sorry i didn’t tell you.”

you freeze, blinking at him. “didn’t tell me what?”

he sighs, and suddenly the lines that you were convinced weren’t on his face a second ago are now evident—along with the exhaustion that’s carved right into it. “that my mom has cancer.”

you frown. “there’s nothing to apologize for, bakugou. you’re not obligated to tell me.”

“still,” he insists, seemingly growing more tired by the moment. “it blindsided you, hearing it from her. i should’ve just told you earlier.”

“maybe,” you admit, “but i understand your apprehension.”

he grumbles, but doesn’t reply. you decide to just go for it.

“can i ask you something?”

he looks up from where he was staring at the off-white tiled floor, expectant. “what?”

“is she part of the reason?” you begin, treading carefully. “why you wanted to put up appearances?”

he stares at you for a beat, perhaps a beat too long because you find yourself slowly regretting bringing up the query in the first place. you are about to backtrack and apologize for asking when, to your surprise, he nods.

ever so slightly that it’s almost imperceptible, but enough of a motion for you to see it.

“i just wanted to seem like i’m putting myself out there,” he mutters, “just in case something happens.”

you nod, ignoring the way your heart is stinging at his sincerity just now.

“she’s always been on my ass about finding someone, but then things happened and you showed up, and i figured why not just hit two birds with one stone, or some shit.”

a pause.

“personally i wouldn’t want to be the stone hitting not just one but two poor birds, but i get it.”

that must’ve caught him off guard, because bakugou snorts. you grin at him when he snickers and calls you stupid under his breath, the atmosphere taking a vastly lighter turn.

now, you didn’t notice it before—much like how you didn’t notice his agency’s building being part of your regular route to the mall—but bakugou has a dimple. a tiny one. and similar to his nod from a short while ago, it’s a subtle little thing, but it’s there—especially now that he’s smiling.

and right next to his dimple are his lips.

which are looking ungodly moisturized compared to your undoubtedly chapped ones.

wait.

your eyes shoot up from his lips to his eyes, a tidal wave of equal parts shame and humiliation ready to crash over your entire, pathetic body. but just as it is about to metaphorically collide with your frame, it freezes—just as you do.

because you catch him—and no matter how much he might try to deny it, you saw it with your own two eyes.

he was staring at your lips.

but apparently denying it isn’t part of his agenda for the night, because he does the exact fucking opposite.

he dives in and presses his lips onto yours.

and you were right—they are sinfully soft, even if you haven’t seen him apply lip balm in the handful of instances you hung out.

and as far as you can remember, this is the last coherent thought that crosses your mind, because the next few minutes go by like a blur. you vaguely recall him pulling away and looking straight at you, as if waiting for a reaction, before leaning right back in when you pull him closer by his shirt. what you don’t remember is who opens the door or how you manage to use your keys without breaking the momentum, but you magically do, just as magically as how fast clothes are shed on the way to your bed.

you recall him eagerly towering over you as your back hit the soft sheets of your mattress, as well as the honest admission of his inexperience yet willingness to learn against your neck. you remember guiding him, telling him how to touch you and the right places to do so—where to rub and lick and thrust not just his fingers to drive you over the edge.

and he does—drive you over the edge. over and over and over that you lost count. and you equally returned the favor, shocked at your own desperation and unusual determination to make him feel good. you recall his being vocal—which you loved, if the incessant wetness between your thighs that lasted the entire night was any indication. you don’t remember when you finished for the last time—when you both crashed out from sheer exhaustion.

but it eventually happened—otherwise, you wouldn’t be laying here, naked under the covers, with a sleeping bakugou illuminated by the sunlight peeking through your black-out curtains.

this wasn’t part of the plan.

the whole pretending to be amicable soulmates plan, sure. but perhaps more importantly, your short-term plan that consists of…well, today and tomorrow.

the last thing you need is to actually be tethered to a person this late in the game.

still, and despite the palpable regret that sits heavy on your chest—the one that’s very bare at the moment albeit concealed under your freshly-washed blanket—you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want it. besides, you don’t have anything else to blame for your behavior last night other than your own free will.

but why do you still feel so empty?

“you okay?”

ripped out of your stupor, you whip to look to your left, and you don’t know who else you were expecting, but your eyes still widen in surprise when you see a naked bakugou, slightly propped up by his two elbows that strain under his hefty weight. unable to sustain his gaze, you keep your line of vision trained on this one vein that runs along the length of his arm as you merely nod in response.

unsurprisingly, he doesn’t take that for an answer.

“i’m not asking again,” he warns, and your eyes shoot up to meet his in disbelief.

the words are out before you can rein them in. “are you always this mouthy even in the morning?”

“i’m not a morning person,” he simply spits back, as if that’s enough of an explanation in itself.

you furrow your brows at him, having half a mind to lock in on this staredown until the fluid in your eyes dries out and you finally, finally die (or go blind, whichever comes first), but then just as quickly as it possessed you with his challenge, the fight within you dies out, leaving your body limp with numbness and fatigue. you break eye contact when it happens, shaking your head in resignation.

you settle with: “it’s nothing,” and blindly hope he leaves it at that.

“‘s not nothing if it’s clearly bothering you,” he retorts to your chagrin.

“i don’t want to be embarrassingly vulnerable if it’ll make you uncomfortable.”

at that, he scoffs. “we fucked. multiple times last night. it can’t get any more vulnerable than that.”

you flush at his brazenness. “yeah, well, that’s the thing. we…you know,” you lower your voice for the next bit, “had sex, and now the lines are getting blurry and it’s all confusing.”

and when he doesn’t say anything for a moment, you tie your spiel with a mangled bow. “i told you it was gonna be embarrassing for me.”

that seems to rub him off the wrong way, because his nose flares in irritation. “why’re you talking like i’m some cold ass fuckboy? i told you, didn’t i? there’s nothing fucking casual about me.”

“i didn’t mean it like—”

“let me talk first,” he commands, and you shut up.

he sighs when you do, letting his head droop between his shoulders. “i don’t regret it, but if you do, then i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have made a move.”

you sit up from where you were lying down, the motion causing him to look up and at you as you shake your head, “don’t apologize, bakugou. it’s just…”

you trail off, weighing on what you can and cannot say.

“it’s just what?” he prods.

you let out a long exhale. “it’s just things are a bit…complicated, to say the least.”

that makes the pro-hero frown, but he doesn’t get to push you to expound on it because a booming voice erupts throughout the room, entirely juxtaposing the earlier quiet. you startle, then ease up when you realize it’s all might’s, and that it’s merely a ringtone. bakugou scrambles out of bed to fetch his phone, and you manage to look away just in time to avoid catching a glimpse of his massive dick.

which, after last night, is really just for courtesy purposes at this point.

thankfully, you don’t have to stare at the ceiling for too long because he retrieves it in record time, before hurriedly crawling back and flinging the covers on top of his lower half.

he eyes you as he brings the device up to his ear and speaks into it. “what is it, nerd?”

you strain to listen in on the voice at the other end, but you barely manage to pick up on a few words. you resort to observing bakugou’s facial expressions instead.

“cut to the chase,” he spews, and you find yourself feeling bad for the other person. “i’m busy right now.”

you watch as bakugou listens to the “nerd’s” reply, stiffening when the pro-hero curses under his breath.

“it’s next weekend? why’d you have to book it this early, then?”

was he planning to meet this person somewhere?

“shit. fine, i’ll ask her.”

you don’t even get to wonder who her is before bakugou swiftly brings his other hand up to cover the microphone, regarding you straight-up.

“shitty deku and round cheeks want to hang out next weekend,” he explains, slightly hesitant, before: “you up for that?”

you make a quick survey of bakugou’s face. can you even say no, at this point? technically, you can, but an inkling deep inside you points at your needing a distraction, because otherwise…

otherwise…

no, now’s not the time for that.

instead, you nod, forcing a smile on your lips. “i’ll go.”

bakugou stares at you for a beat, gaze borderline scrutinizing it makes you uneasy. but then he nods, and you find yourself taking a sharp breath as he goes back to his phone call.

“we’re in.”

“once again, serving time will be 15 to 20 minutes, and i’m haruhi, your server for this evening.”

you collectively thank the waitress as she beams at the four of you while serving your glasses of water, before turning around to return to the kitchen.

“this restaurant’s really hard to get into, you know,” shares midoriya when the girl is out of earshot, catching your attention. “but i heard their katsudon is really, really good, so i worked hard to get us a reservation.”

“worked hard, my ass,” sneers bakugou without missing a beat. “you pulled some strings. i recognize the owner, he’s the father of one of your top students.”

“kacchan—”

“don’t tease him, bakugou,” the brunette interjects, an adorable pout etched on her pretty face. “i was with him, he was on the phone for thirty minutes with the receptionist begging for a slot.”

“and you two are begging to be teased,” comes bakugou’s snarky quip. “quit it with the whole defending him, would ya?”

you fail to stop the smile that invades your lips as the new couple blush at bakugou’s remark, an unmistakable tinge of pink flooding both of their cheeks.

“if it’s okay to ask,” you start, tamping down the shyness that looms in when the two across you regard you pleasantly, “how long have you been dating?”

“uh, about three months, right, izuku?” uraraka replies quietly, the pink from earlier now blossoming into a more apparent red as she looks at the man.

“y-yes, three months,” confirms the greenhead.

from where he’s seated to your left, bakugou snorts. “it’s been a long time coming, if you ask me.”

“you make it sound so simple, bakugou,” counters uraraka, before shifting to face you. “it really wasn’t easy to get to this point, y/n. i’m not sure if bakugou’s told you, but we went through a lot in ua and even after that, which made entertaining anything beyond hero work impossible. plus,” she adds timidly, “there’s this whole soulmate situation on top of everything.”

curious, you ask. “what soulmate situation?”

and, as if they’ve gone through these motions countless times before, both midoriya and uraraka lift up their right wrists and thrust them forward for you to see. you lean forward to get a better view.

you look at midoriya’s first. his looks just like yours before you met bakugou a little over a month ago—opaque and conveniently set at zero. you then glance at uraraka’s, but to your surprise, hers looks different. a huge number is written on her flesh…

but it’s static and greyed out.

you look up at the woman, confused, and she’s quick to explain. “my soulmate died a few years ago.”

she shrugs, “and izuku’s…well, he’s never heard of them.”

“not that we wouldn’t be with each other if they were both around,” clarifies midoriya, who says it so quickly he almost stumbles over his words. “it’s just that because of these circumstances, our relationship is a bit…unconventional.”

“i understand,” you promptly reply with the most gracious expression you can muster. uraraka shoots you a grateful look, while midoriya bashfully scratches at his head.

you sense bakugou’s gaze on you through your periphery, but you ignore it.

you wouldn’t be able to hold it, anyway.

“it’s romantic, isn’t it?”

you round the corner, careful not to brush against bakugou when he does the same to your left. a sigh of relief threatens to wrack over the entirety of your frame when you’re met with the sight of the familiar-looking street, brightly illuminated by an array of streetlights dotting the entire length of it.

“what,” he says more than asks, effortlessly keeping up with your pace with his long strides.

you take a fleeting glance at him, before shifting your attention back to the pavement in front of you. “midoriya and uraraka, and how they chose each other.”

“i guess…” he responds, voice uncharacteristically quiet. “but i’ve always seen it from lightyears away.”

you pause, although you’re quick to step back into your rhythmic walking. “really?”

“they’ve always had each other’s backs even before ua,” he explains. “it’s creepy how similar they are to each other, too. it’d be weird if they didn’t end up together.”

he says it so seriously you can’t help but laugh. you catch him looking at you, smirking. “you’ve got an interesting way with words, bakugou.”

“sue me.”

you, in fact, don’t sue him, but you do unleash a cutting wisecrack in his direction, which he counters with his, and this goes on and on without pause that you don’t even notice you’ve already arrived at the front of your condominium unit until he points it out.

and as the weighty realization of this dawns on you, so do the memories of what happened when you were last here together. you rush to suppress them, and pick up the conversation from where you left off.

“i don’t know about you,” you quip, tossing him a grin, “but i take comfort in the fact that people can find someone beyond their designated soulmates.”

to your dismay, albeit somewhat unsurprisingly, bakugou doesn’t return it—the grin nor the sentiment, apparently—because he only stares at you weirdly, like you just said something…off.

great, you think to yourself. now you’ve ruined it.

might as well ruin it even further at this point, right?

finally, and to your brain’s relief, you let the damned grin fall off your face, let your shoulders sag from the strenuous effort to seem tall and confident for the last few hours, and you heave a heavy, heavy sigh. you sense bakugou stiffen at your palpable change in demeanor, but you pay it no mind.

“look,” you start, willing yourself to look up to meet his eyes, which you instantly regret because now they’re laced with obvious concern. still, you press on and gulp. “i didn’t want to do this, but i guess i have no choice now, do i?”

“what are you—”

“i know things are weird right now, and i just had to go ahead and start catching feelings like a lunatic, but i—”

you trail off, uncertain, before deciding fuck it. “this can’t go on, bakugou.”

the second you let the words out, you can only watch with anticipatory dread as a million emotions dance across his features. you stand there as he opens his mouth, before closing them, and then opening them again, although nothing comes out.

what seems like an eternity passes before he finally gets something out.

“…why?”

you press your lips into a thin line. “it’s because i’m sick.”

there.

but then he says something that completely throws you off balance.

“i know.”

you feel your eyes widen in surprise as he diverts his gaze. “what? how?”

“i—” he starts, reluctant, before: “i noticed.”

instantly, you flame in embarrassment. you thought you had this whole masking thing pinned the fuck down. and all this time you hadn’t?

you must’ve looked distraught at his admission, because he swiftly tries to soothe you. “don’t hide,” he says, and only then do you realize you’re shrinking in yourself like you do when you want to disappear. he frowns, “the last thing you need to be is fucking ashamed.”

at that, and despite yourself, you snort. you don’t have the heart to tell him you can’t remember the last time you felt shame over your condition from how long it’s just been there—an unwavering part of your life. still, you force a reply. “thanks.”

and before he can say anything uselessly placating that’ll only chip away at the very little you have left, you beat him to it. “i should head inside.”

“but—”

“good night, bakugou.”

and just like that, you spin on your heel, open the door with your keys, and close it shut in his face.

the conversation from earlier wouldn’t leave his head.

even as he tosses and turns on top of his king-sized mattress, and even as the clock ticks past the usual, strict bedtime he’s set for himself as early as high school, he finds himself wide awake, his steady heartbeat the only thing that’s breaking the monotonous quiet of his lonely bedroom.

so much happened in the course of the few minutes in front of your place, that while he prides himself in his acuity and general sharpness, he admits even he couldn’t have responded the way he should have despite desperately wanting to.

which fucking reminds him.

he didn’t get to say he likes you back.

he was so wrapped up in you implicitly trashing your soulmate connection, as well as you calling it quits that he barely registered your hasty confession. not when you immediately followed it up with an acknowledgment of what’s been causing you pain.

and as he stares at the dimly lit ceiling of his room, bakugou arrives at a pivotal realization—his feelings should be the least of your worries.

but that doesn’t mean you didn’t deserve to know.

so with a renewed sense of determination, the pro-hero promptly sits up and reaches for the phone that’s perched idly on his nightstand. 10:07 pm, it reads. you should still be awake by now.

he types out a message.

(10:08 pm) me: you awake? can i call you?

he presses the send button before he can back out of it.

what feels like five minutes pass without a single chime emanating from his phone, at which point he finally allows himself to let the anxiety creep up his neck. he stares at your caller id, debating whether or not you’d get mad if he just went ahead and called you.

eventually, and after five more minutes, bakugou decides he’d rather face your wrath than deal with his own regret.

so he calls you. once, no answer. second attempt, sent straight to voicemail. third, fourth, and fifth, and that’s when a ghastly chill envelopes him.

it couldn’t be.

still, with bated breath and immense dread pooling in his stomach, he slowly lifts his right wrist to check.

only to find that the timer has stopped.

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @sugurusmoon @napbatata @k0z3me @h0ngh0ngh0ng @honeyoru @yoongiwithglasses @hellokitty-doll @lilsebnem @tetsuukuroo @crangrapel0ver @syrhra

[flowersforthemachines]

Some facts about Lucanis (and also Spite and the Crows) gathered from the banters

I went through all companion banters on DanaDuchy's channel after playing the game to write down all facts about companions/the world that I haven't seen brought up anywhere in the game as a writing reference (and for funsies).

Note: This list may not be exhaustive. I might have missed some something or didn't write it down because I considered it common knowledge. If you have anything to add, please DM me or send an ask! (do specify what banter the information is coming from, though)

Note 2: Posts from this series (mostly) don't include information from banters specific to quests or between companions and faction members. I plan to do another playthrough to capture more of those and will add any relevant info to the character posts.

Other characters' posts: Bellara, Davrin, Harding, Emmrich, Neve, Taash. I'm also planning a post about just the Lighthouse some time later

About Lucanis: 

Family and the past:

Lucanis learnt to cook while helping the kitchen staff at the villa when he was a little boy. One of his motivations was learning how to make churros

Side note: Lucanis mentions that cioccolata calda was his favourite drink when he was a baby, and he serves churros to a romanced Rook who picks cioccolata calda as their favourite drink. It’s all coming together! 

Lucanis wanted to be a Crow when he was a child (at least most of the time)  

All of Lucanis's relatives were Crows as well, and all of them were killed by a rival Crow house

Lucanis says Caterina would be proud of Illario hiding his plans well, as well as killing her 

Lucanis says that the hard part about setting Illario free would be convincing Caterina 

Lucanis says that nightlife was more of Illario's thing, and he never got out as much

On Crows and Antiva:

Viago still stares daggers at Lucanis for throwing his (Viago's) pet snake out of the window in a dream

Lucanis doesn't like it when people confuse murder and assassination ("Murderers are hobbyists, we are professionals")

Lucanis has taken contracts in Orlais

Lucanis doesn’t know Treviso as well as he once used to 

Heir didn’t train Lucanis

Lucanis says he has never killed an innocent “by his count” (other people may disagree) 

Lucanis doesn’t think of the Crows as a “big organisation” (unlike the Inquisition) because they stab each other too much

Lucanis became a mage-killer at Caterina’s behest (she wanted to tap into new markets)

The nickname “The Demon of Vyrantium” came from Tevinter news-sheets, though Lucanis thinks Viago started it

Lucanis says that there aren't any special tricks to killing mages. Though, if nothing else works, you can try pissing them off, as that could attract a demon that would eat the mage

Lucanis once killed half a dozen venatori while stuck inside an elevator 

Lucanis doesn’t consider himself a gentleman assassin, manners are less important than getting the job done

Lucanis sometimes spares his targets. He mentioned letting go of a servant who killed her master, as well as a 14-year-old boy. He thinks it’s wrong to kill people so young because they still have time to change

Lucanis doesn’t accept contracts without merit, and the merit is decided by the talon of the house

General:

Lucanis can make bread

Lucanis has never been to Ferelden

Lucanis isn’t interested in killing wyverns, just looking at them :)  

Lucanis has a pet snake 

Lucanis stays awake at night by cleaning his gear, exercising, studying Orlesian and knitting ("it’s just another kind of blade work") 

Lucanis doesn’t understand a lot of things people find attractive

(In a conversation with Harding) Thinking about cooking was one of the things that helped Lucanis stay sane in the Ossuary (the other was thinking about killing his enemies) 

(In a conversation with Davrin) Lucanis survived the Ossuary by shutting down and not thinking about anything except escaping

These two points sort of contradict each other. Either an inconsistency or Lucanis describing his experience differently to different people. 

The Wetlands ruined at least one pair of Lucanis’s boots

(If Rook chooses to save Treviso) Lucanis offers to pay for any supplies the Shadow Dragons may need 

Lucanis doesn't get a better bed because he's afraid of accidentally falling asleep 

Lucanis can identify the killer’s weapon and the height difference between them and the target just through the blood splatter left at the scene

Lucanis considers Grey Wardens dangerous 

Lucanis doesn’t like necromancy, because bringing people back to life is a waste of hard work

Lucanis finds the ice coffee from Minrathous offensive (Harding describes it as “snow, but made of coffee, sweet, and with cream and toffee sauce on top”)

Lucanis had never been in a romantic relationship before Rook/Neve

Relationships with other companions: 

Lucanis gets into reading Bellara’s serials (very passionately - they chat about it a bunch)

Lucanis is outraged that the Veil Jumpers don’t get paid for their work and offers Bellara his contract negotiator

Lucanis made biscuits for Assan

Lucanis is sceptical that the griffons will be safe with the Wardens

Lucanis think that Assan shouldn’t go soft (referring to the time he took care of a halla) because he is a predator at heart

(If Emmrich becomes a lich) Lucanis offers to hold a funeral for Manfred

Lucanis and Harding talk a lot about dreams (mostly silly things like showing up naked for the job, getting chased by someone/something etc.)

Lucanis thinks Harding is deadly with her bow

Lucanis offers to pay Harding for being his lookout/aide at the rate of 6000 gold per contract

Lucanis offers the help of his contract negotiator to Neve after he finds out she doesn't have one

Lucanis made deep-fried peppers for Taash

About Spite: 

Emmrich can hear Spite even when he doesn’t take over Lucanis’s body (at least from a close distance)

Spite is impartial to Emmrich, believing him more than Lucanis

Emmrich says it’s impossible to separate Spite and Lucanis without killing them

Emmrich encourages Lucanis to read to Spite to bring them closer. Lucanis agrees to let Spite pick a book

(If Emmrich becomes a lich) Spite asks if he and Lucanis can get rid of their skin too 

(If Manfred is revived at the Necropolis) Spite asks Emmrich to teach him how to use fire magic. Lucanis isn’t thrilled by the idea

Emmrich sets up wards to prevent Spite from leaving the room when Lucanis is asleep

Spite no longer sleepwalks after “Inner Demons” because he apparently understood the concept of space

By the end of the game, Spite has agreed to stop sleepwalking completely

Spite controls the wings (confirmed in banter with Harding) 

Spite wants to try swinging off the astrolabe at the Lighthouse

Spite is very excited about Manfred having hands and feet (Curiosity. Has. Feet!)

Spite finds the wisps in Neve’s room unnerving (as do Lucanis and Neve)

Spite likes to play with whetstones Bellara got for Lucanis (Bellara got them from the Irelin who supposedly got them from somewhere in Arlathan) 

Spite wants to try eating self-lightning candles at Blackthorne Manor

About the Crows: 

Crows frequently visit Nevarra and have received 20 contacts to assassinate the king. The King has been poisoned 7 times

Crows get a lot of contracts for Divine Victoria

Some seers in Rivain are powerful enough that there are contracts on them as well

Caterina once killed a man with a thimble

When Crows kill someone, most of the time they want others to know it was them (rather than presenting the death as an accident) 

The crows buried six different Eight Talons and rarely take contracts in Ferelden after the Zevran fiasco

[mybigsnowman]

anything for you

pairing sylus x afab!reader

summary sylus turns up at your apartment after you accidentally text him while in pain

tags second-person pov, sick fic, pre-relationship, pre-friendship too, reader is wary of sylus, uterus related pain, not a period fic, lowkey doctor hate

word count 1.2k

note somewhat of a character study if u really squint and very self indulgent, almost a vent fic, and written about my own pain while I was suffering at the hospital, pre-period cramps are like hell. you can tell how frustrated I am with doctors...

cross posted to ao3

I think I need to go to the hospital.

Sylus assumed that you'd sent the text to the wrong person. He tried calling you to no avail. Twice, three times, the phone rang and rang before going to voicemail. Mephisto’s view was dark, your curtains were drawn shut and if it wasn't for the motorcycle outside he would've assumed you were out. He opened the text again and debated on what to do.

You wouldn't send him this, not now at least, he could tell you were still wary of him. But he couldn't ignore it. He was already close by meeting a buyer in Linkon; it wouldn't take long to check on you, twenty minutes if he speeds – and he does.

When he arrived your curtains were still drawn. A part of him began doubting if you were even home. Maybe you got injured on the job; you didn't always drive yourself to work. It was a possibility he'd think of after checking your apartment. He was calm and rational even in moments of stress, this didn't rattle him. He would find you if you weren't here. He found you before and he'd find you again.

He heard the muffled sound of the television when he reached your door. You were probably home so he tried to knock. Once, twice, three times – there was no answer. So he resorted to what he knew best and destroyed the lock. He'd fix it for you later.

The inside was dark, only the faint glow of the television filled the place. He saw you curled in on yourself with half your face squished down on the couch, and if it wasn't for the sudden shift of your body he would've assumed the worst. 

Before he could get closer, he saw your head move as you turned to face him. You were fine enough to still be alert; whatever pain you were in wasn't deadly.  

You squinted, for a moment not recognising the looming figure in the dark room. But your mind caught up; it could only be one person. “Sylus? What are you doing here?”

“You texted me.”

You tried to push yourself up to look for your phone but grimaced at the sudden movement as another cramp shot through your lower abdomen causing you to inhale sharply. You were taking laboured breaths with every movement.

Sylus finally saw the sweat on your skin, your shirt was stuck to your body. “Let me help you up.”

“You don't need to. I'm fine.” Giving up on sitting, you patted around for your phone. You were certain you hadn't texted him. The last person you were talking to was Tara, you were sure of that. Finally, you found it lodged between the back of the couch and the cushions. Your eyes burned as they adjusted to the sudden brightness.

Sylus watched your face as you unlocked your phone. The bright screen illuminated your features making your tense expression obvious. 

“Sorry, I didn't mean to send that to you.”

Although he'd expected it, Sylus still felt wounded that you wouldn't rely on him. But alas, he was here and he would help you. Without asking why you were in pain he spoke up again, “Let me get you to the hospital.”

“You don't need to, I'm fine, really.” You hated the position you were in, the pain had subsided slightly, but you were still vulnerable in front of him. It scared you – he still scared you. You never gave him the pin to your door, he'd clearly broken in. And maybe it was out of worry, or something else, you still couldn't figure out his true intentions when it came to you.

“You don't have to pretend to be strong, sweetie.”

“Why did you even come here? Were you worried about me?”

Sylus couldn't answer. It was a simple yes, he was worried about you, but he could see it in your eyes that you wouldn't believe him. You were already on edge because of the pain.

“Do you like me, Sylus?”

You were relentless. Even while in pain you mocked him with a question you'd asked before – a question he couldn't answer without giving away too much. It was a yes, always a yes. 

But before he could give you a dismissive answer, he heard you groan in pain. 

And before he could get closer to check on you, you dismissed him. “Just get me painkillers. The medicine box is in the kitchen.”

He obeyed you, whatever you wanted. He brought your medicine storage box over with a cup of water after turning the lights on. 

You'd finally managed to sit up, you were still curled in on yourself while sitting. Your hand reached out for the medicine box when he got closer. You rummaged around a bit before finally finding the pill package. You downed two, all the time feeling Sylus’ strong gaze on you. You probably looked like a mess, you'd been crying before you fell asleep.

He finally spoke up again, “Are you sure you don't need to go to the hospital?”

“There's no point,” you said as you closed your eyes and leaned your head back. “They'll say nothing’s wrong.”

“We’ll go to another hospital then.”

“Do you think I haven't tried?” Your words had more bite to them than you intended, but you were in pain, and still wary of his presence – you couldn't really control it. His need to throw solutions at you like everything was easy if you just tried hard enough was irritating, so you explained it further, trying to convince him how useless these doctors were. “I've gone to ten different clinics. They all say it's normal, just regular pain before my period. Even though I can't breathe or move right. It's stupid.”

Sylus could hear how frustrated you were, you sounded like you had a lump in your throat. 

“Fuck, it really feels like I'm having contractions,” you said with a breathy laugh hoping to dissipate some of the tension, but even that mild action hurt.

“I'll find you a good doctor.”

“I'm sure you will.” Your reply was mocking, and dismissive, but a part of you hoped that he could. Every gynaecologist in Linkon was useless but maybe the N109 zone had someone special, a doctor that wouldn't just say it's anxiety or dismiss your pain altogether; the thought nearly made you laugh. It really would be a feat if Sylus found someone.

“Do you need anything else?”

“No, you can leave.” You wanted to thank him but it felt strange.

“I can't. Your lock’s broken.”

You sighed in frustration and rubbed your eyes. “Fix it then.”

“I will, anything for you.”

You hated his tone – always too earnest. He listened to you like a loyal dog sometimes; he listened like he owed you something. 

You'd take advantage of it if he wanted to be this way. “I want to eat something.”

“Tell me what you want.”

He ordered what you demanded of him before asking you where the toolbox was. 

Your eyes lingered on him as he knelt in front of the door, fixing the lock all on his own. He could’ve called someone to do it, it would’ve been easier, he didn’t have to stoop so low for you. Your eyes grew heavier as you watched him work. Your body betrayed your mind; all the wariness you felt towards him wasn’t enough to stop the ease that spread through your limbs. Perhaps subconsciously his presence felt familiar. 

Your eyes closed as your cramps subsided significantly. You felt yourself doze off as the sound of Sylus fixing your lock lulled you to sleep. 

[heesmiles]

CROSSING THE LINE | enhypen hyung line. TEASER & TAGLIST

COLLIDE l.hs

synopsis ⤑ Hockey boys were nothing but egoistic man boys who threw each other around, chasing a puck for a living. They lacked sustenance, they lived their lives like barbarians and you hated them, and everything they stand for. So being tasked to tutor the worst one of them all? An impossible task. Lee Heeseung was the poster child for a frat boy disaster and you wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole. Or so you thought. Damnit. 

pairings ⤑ hockey player!heeseung x bookworm!reader word count ⤑ est 20k.

warnings ⤑ smut, frat boy activities, hockey, drinking, parties, tutoring trope, heeseung is a fuck boy, etc (will add more upon publication.)

POSTED.

OFF THE ICE s.jy

synopsis ⤑ You were having fun. That’s all. You were young, in college, readying yourself for true adulthood. You didn’t know adulthood would come so quick, in the form of a baby you didn’t plan for. With a man who was more in love with Hockey than anything else. This wasn’t supposed to happen, and it definitely wasn’t supposed to happen with him.

pairings ⤑ hockey player!Jake x pregnant!reader word count ⤑ est. 20k

warnings ⤑ pregnancy trope, smut, friends with benefits, etc (will add more upon publication).

POSTED.

FROSTBITE p.sh

synopsis ⤑ Sunghoon’s injury was comparable to the end of the world, at least for him it was. Having not been cleared in time to start practice with his team, Sunghoon is stuck practicing alone after hours, except he's not alone. Forced to share the rink with the practicing figure skaters was his version of hell, especially when one of them couldn't shut up about the fact that the world was their oyster and taking a positive look on life was the only way to live? How could he be positive when the only thing that made him happy was taken away from him. She had felt like frostbite sinking into his skin. Frostbite was quick, it stung and then it killed before you could even see it coming. 

pairings ⤑ hockey player!sunghoon x figure skater!reader word count ⤑ est. 20k

warnings ⤑ smut, mentions of injury, grumpy x sunshine, etc (will add more upon publication).

HATE TO HAVE YOU p.js

synopsis ⤑ You were here for work. That was it. You didn’t even like hockey players. They were too raunchy, too noisy, just too much. You were a put your head down and listen to classical music through your headphones, type of girl. Your brothers were hockey players, your dad as well. All you wanted to do was help people, not fall in love with clients that were off limits. Clients who were the captain of the hockey team your dad coached. No, he was very much off limits and he would most certainly hate to have you.

pairings ⤑ hockey captain!jay x coaches daughter!reader word count ⤑ est. 20k

warnings ⤑ smut, forbidden romance, injuries mentioned, reader is an intern sports massage therapist, etc (will add more upon publication)

enhypen masterlist & more

crossing the line series masterlist ⤑ coming soon.

rae's notes ⤑ hi, I'm really excited to write this series! if you couldn't tell this is a college hockey romance with the enhypen hyung. please let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist. as of right now there is no est publish date but the fics will come out in this order. Thank youuuu hope you enjoy!

taglist. . (★) @izzyy-stuff , @beomiracles , @filmnings , @dawngyu , @hyukascampfire , @saejinniestar , @notevenheretbh1 , @hwanghyunjinismybae