#i can understand why some people thought it was a bug

[biancadoes1]

Hi Bianca. I hope all is well with you. My name is Gracie and I know I'm anon atm but for personal reasons, I can't reveal my account name here on Tumblr. For starters, I have to warn you that this might be long, and I will apologize for that but I hope you find this worth reading.

I know nothing of Bridgerton, Luke Newton and Nicola Coughlan. Although I am familiar that they all are actors. I heard the names before. I know nothing of the lore, the fandom nor the shipping. But my close friend does. This morning, she came to my office on the verge of tears and I tried to comfort her. We had this series of conversation, hence I ended up here. She showed me an IG story of Nicola, and I noticed it was a reposted story of user JakeLDunn congratulating her on BAFTA nomination(CONGRATULATIONS!!) and I looked at her with questioning look, so I told her that, "Well that's sweet of him. A friend congratulating a friend on achieving such feat on her career." And then here what's started everything. My friend looked at me like I just said something life changing and then she seemed relief for some reason so we had a chat. "So it looks that way to GA huh. Gosh."

My friend told me that she admittedly shipped Nicola and Luke. And she also said she is so confused about Nicola and Jake because they are reportedly dating but a lot of you here felt differently so she asked me to offer my thoughts objectively as a outsider so I said sure. And my friend specifically told me that I can understand Nicola and Jake lore personally and I can understand now why.

To give you a little bit of info about me, I have a bestie (guy) that I met through a common friend. We have a huge age gap and we have a dating rumour amongst our friend group, even to outsiders. I thought about that way too at first, but then this bestie of mine started exhibiting odd behaviours that I only noticed. I saw the way he looked at our coworker (guy). His gaze lingered on our coworker and waaaaay too many signs that led me to conclude that he may be gay. So one day I asked him directly, because if he was really gay as I thought him to be, then the rumours of romance between us might cause some sort of rift and I want to correct that so I sat down with him, and clarified everything. And yes, he is gay. He said it himself. And he is also aware about the rumours of us dating and he did apologize for that. He felt like he used me as a cover up about his sexual orientation and he felt guilty do so, but his trauma about him coming out has led him to remain silent. But he also said it didn't stop him from slowly coming out, hence the signs that I saw. The one point where I truly believe he was gay is that I saw on his personal profile that he is following this painter in our city which is known for its nude paintings of men so yeah that pretty much summarizes it.

My point is, we got close, like real close and I don't mind holding hands with him. Hugging him, taking personal pics of each other without this gender norms. It seemed intimate to outsiders but we know the real deal between us. We are besties. And I secretly helped him with his love of his life, on how to pursue him while on the outside, and its the perfect cover up to be honest. Like I am being pressured to date somebody and I hate that, and now my parents don't bug me that much about dating because of my bestie and they are trying to respect our relationship (no we are not dating) but our age gap is making them feel odd but they are trying to respect that. I feel bad about lying but I don't want anybody really poking about my business, especially my love life and I suspect that something really similar is happening to Nicola.

If Jake Dunn suddenly came into picture without any warning, and if he is also rumoured to be part of LGBTQ+, you guys have the right to be suspicious. Because that's how I deflected any other romances with other people without being obvious and not to mention, its the perfect cover up. He is part of my friend group, my bestie and I am comfortable with him, but our relationship is mostly sister/brother that. If you guys felt like Nicola at some point tried to deny the narrative about her and Jake Dunn dating, you would've seen signs. Maybe personally or in social media where all their moves are being monitored. And then suddenly, you guys felt like the narrative is being pushed onto you guys, that's where you have to suspect something behind the scenes is going on. Because that's exactly how it happened to me, about my career and my family. Not to get detailed about it but all I did was I made sure the me and my gay bestie are kinda like in a romantic relationship to ensure the safety of our real relationship. He needed me to cover up his relationship with his bf (now fiancee) because of career issues and mine too. It was mutually consented and beneficial.

Ah, sorry that this have been long, but if you want to know my thoughts about Nicola and Jake Dunn is that, no, I don't believe they ever dated. Because I can see myself in Nicola. That's how I acted around my gay bestie. But you don't have to take this seriously tho, but its just a personal opinion of mine. And an outsiders point of view.

And my friend brought up a timeline, it made me suspicious because I think something happened last year that made Jake came into the picture. I don't have the complete lore yet but the way she told me about the events, I feel like I am missing something completely big.

And thank you miss Bianca! My friend told me if I wanted to share my thoughts about N&J situation so I said why not.

This is such an interesting perspective!!

I really enjoy hearing from people outside of this and what they think is going on based off what they see and having all the lore.

Thank you for sharing ❤️

[sewermageboy]

Alright, so. I like the Lucanis romance in general. But there is one major complaint I have, and it's this scene right here.

This is the romance lock-in scene.

Now, you'd be forgiven if you didn't catch that when watching the video, because literally the only indicator that this is the lock-in is the dialogue wheel telling you it is. Nothing happens narratively in this scene that would indicate the beginning of a relationship. If anything, there's gratitude and some light flirting.

The next time I took out Lucanis and Neve with me, Neve congratulated him on his relationship with Rook. Taash told him to take Rook flying on a date. And I'm just there like: "That's very sweet guys, but how the fuck do you know we're even together? Did the dialogue wheel tell you, too?"

My complaint about Lucanis' romance isn't that it isn't "spicy" enough or whatever, or that it's a slow burn. It's that it genuinely feels like an entire scene - the actual start of their relationship - is straight up missing. And honestly? That kinda sucks.

[zdechlyryba]

an edek themed collage 🪲

[deathsmallcaps]

Replying to tags but then I ran out of room and I think i was if not cooking then at least microwaving

#dude when I was in 6th grade I read #the veldt #and at the time it disgusted and genuinely scared me because I was #just so surprised that people - children! - could be raised to be so heartless #idk if I read it for the first time as a 23 year old it would scare me so much #but goddamn

#I think we're both people who are *at least* good at literacy but we're both a little too STEMmy #to look at it the way some English teachers want us to? #like they want people to go from 'damn that's fucked up → what themes are the authors trying to explore here → what about the world #made them think of that and perhaps what are they trying to get us to consider and think about and perhaps change' #obviously not all writing is a fable with a moral at the end #but a lot of good writing has some sort of central belief that it wants the reader to consider

#(I struggle in creating that with my fiction ugh and I think a lot of booktok books do too and it bugs me that we have that connection)

#but anyway #I think you and I'd first reactions are like #’that's horrible → how can we prevent that specific problem from occurring again' #like take the lottery. my (and maybe your?) first reaction is like 'that's horrible → they should ban the lottery' #but the English teacher is going to want us to think 'oh gee okay so this is a commentary on traditions. why would this tradition be started #/necessary? does the lottery reflect the overall morals and sensibilities of the overall society (aka fond of the death penalty etc). #what sort of tradition might this mirror today? connecting to historical events and the fact that the person stoned and the author were #women. aka the gender commonly stoned for witchcraft in New England #do you think that's related?' etc etc etc wrapped in metaphors and shit. and tbh that's how I learned a lot of my religious and political #philosophy as well as history. I really like Thomas swift's 'a modest proposal' (satire) for that reason.

but that was NOT my initial #thought process for English class. I had to be heavily trained into thinking that way and often my first instinct is to not engage with the #metaphor an just go straight to the logic/sensible answer. blah blah blah. I really respect lit and history teachers as a profession but boy #do I not want to teach it because I would be so slack on writing the kinds of questions that would get the kids to engage with the meta. #once I got a piece I got it but it was a struggle every damn time. because I had to get over my feelings of well why didn't they just not #do that'

the biggest one I can think of is 'song of Solomon' by Toni Morrison. I think my senior AP English teacher wanted us to really #consider authors and characters of color (he was white but it was 2018-2019 aka Trump era) so he taught us othello and TM. othello is a #little easier to understand because iago is just being a little bitch about a Black foreigner getting a promotion and a hot wife and no longer being able to convince himself that he was better than Othello

But TM’s main character Milkman? Unlikeable, spoiled little shit who doesn’t give a damn that he’s the 1 percent of his marginalized community and he’s frittering his privileges away so hard that it literally induces suicidal and murderous tendencies into the people around him. Among other things.

It took me foreverrrrrr to engage with the text beyond GOD I HATE THIS GUY but once I was able to examine his psychology and the mean flip side of ‘if you want to fly, you have to get rid of earthly attachments’, which he does at the end of the story.

Was it a chore? Absolutely. But have I ever forgotten the story or the literary tools it gave me? No.

Maybe I’m just speaking for myself in this longass response - you and I usually talk animals and men not books 😅 - but yeah every English class is full of these annoying stories that are meant to rattle one’s brain and I REALLY avoid rattling lmao. Tbqh again I respect lot classes but I’m glad they’re over lmao

But anyways I listened to Levar Burton’s podcast ‘Levar Burton Reads’ from start to finish, and he once read (as a three parter) Toni Morrison’s Recitatif. It’s the story of two girls, one Black one white, who grew up around and with and against each other during the mid 1900s.

I didn’t know what the story was getting at, aside from the surface ideas of the American Civil Rights Movement and privilege and stuff. But LB usually asked questions or briefly mentioned the author’s main idea at the end. And when he did? HOLY FUCK.

If you ever decide to listen to it (I’ve never gotten my hands to a print copy so idk if they usually have some sort of author’s note at the end to ask the reader this question)(I love LB’s voice he’s a pleasure to listen to if you listen to Recitatif) please @ me and tell me if it also blew your mind and made you consider how you viewed the POV character of the story.

Because it blew my mind and made me really consider why I assumed things about the pov character. Im not going to say anything further because I feel like I’m spoiling the point but yeah.

Anyways again this could be just me but I’ve always had trouble moving on from the straight solution mindset. When I was 12 I was in a model UN and I was told to write a report about Togo and its healthcare issues. I took this to mean that I had to research the common issues there (such as unclean water and mosquito bite diseases) and then come up with solutions.

It was incredibly embarrassing to do all that and then hear every other group explain their countries healthcare issues and WHY (historically, monetarily, etc) their countries struggled with such things. And my ass went up there and talked about affordable mosquito deterrent changes to water sources and cheap water cleaning services.

I didn’t realize it then but like. It perfectly exemplified my lack of instinct to subtextually interact with instructions and prompts.

And the thing is. May the universe bless and boost the fucking lit teachers out there because my poor students are entering math class with lit skills 6 grades under where they should be and are genuinely unable to interact with straightforward STEM instructions. My college had every ed major take a ‘teaching literacy’ class and sure I passed but the thing is. I’m not really the person that’s supposed to catch these kids on that subject. I’m supposed to be a secondary math teacher. So a lot of the advice in that class simply wasn’t applicable and I wish it was!!! I’d be happy to help in that subject but also I WAS TRAINED TO BE A MATH TEACHER. AND MOST LITERACY AND LANGUAGE DIFFICULTY COURSES ARE NOT DESIGNED WITH STEM IN MIND. (Which is why I want to learn enough Spanish that I can teach kids learning English math as well because that’s an area that doesn’t get a lot of crossover and a lot of kids fall through).

Well this turned into a ramble goodnight lmao. I’d say this was a decently microwaved thought track lol

[valdevia]

Very funny that tumblr is having discourse about whether my art is misinformation or not, after I've been posting it all over the internet for years without any controversy. So let's talk about it!

I know people arguing are a vocal minority, but I'm not going to dismiss anyone's concerns. It's an actually interesting topic that I really consider, and it touches some important issues in society. So here's my (rambly) two cents.

My art is meant to misdirect, in some way. Photomanipulation and the tone I typically use are meant to briefly confuse the person reading it into thinking they're hearing a real story, at least for a few seconds.

The Intended Experience™

In this sense, I feel like my art can be misinformation! And it's not only people who don't think critically about things like "how come I never heard about mermaids being real before?".

So, no disrespect to anyone that fell for one of my pieces! My work plays with reality, so if you fell for it for more than a minute, it just means my tone and style worked a little too well for you! And there are legitimate reasons to be confused when you see something online, too. For example, there are people who can have trouble telling real and fictional things apart. When you post something that goes out to a million people, you'll get one million different reactions.

That's why I always take care to make it really clear, outside the main piece and snippet of text, that my art is no more than fiction. There are tags, the tone of my account, even my profile picture is meant to reinforce this. I also have a website which, in part, is meant to capture the clicks of people to wonder if my stuff is real and google it, so they can find a real source that's clearly an art website. You can try googling "mycelium infection 1806" or "pupillosarcoma" to see how my website tends to appear first.

If I get this comment I know I've done something believable!

But let's say, for the sake of argument, that my art wholly constitutes misinformation. What we need to understand is that misinformation is not the same as disinformation. Misinformation is just incorrect information. It's your grandma seeing a little bit of a found footage movie on TV and thinking it really happened. She might be spooked, but nobody is harmed. Disinformation is false information that's purposefully crafted and spread in order to cause harm, division, or further a political view.

Now I ask you: what real world harm does my art create? The worst that can happen is that a tiny percentage of those that see it get a little scared thinking a weird bug is real, or that mushrooms really grow on faces, or that scientists have released millions of trilobites into the oceans. Is that really that bad?

Anyway, that's my take on the topic! I'm obviously biased, but this being my style, I do put a lot of thought into it and I'm always open to people's opinions! (Just don't scream at random people on the replies or you'll get blocked!)

[wonderjanga]

batman keeps trying to put trackers on marvel's costume, but none of it actually comes off, and the parts he can put trackers on are all like, magical, so they break the trackers and he's so mad about it

Bruce has tried so many ways to track Marvel it’s honestly driven him mad.

First he tried looking for the man using CCTV cameras only to realize Fawcett doesn’t have any. Oh no, no no no, he got the grainy, haven’t been used since the 80s, security cameras. So he ends up combing through all of these cameras because of how old they are because he can’t use the software he normally uses to quickly find people. He also had to do this all on his own because Barbara was busy, and none of his other kids wanted to help him because they all like Cap. And then, when he finally finds the Captain…

Batman: *staring at the Batcomputer intently*

Marvel: *standing in an alleyway* “Shazam.”

Batman: *doesn’t understand what he said, because the audio is too crappy to decipher, but doesn’t have enough time to register that as the cameras immediately cut off*

Bruce nearly… What did Tim call it? Ah yes, crashed out. Bruce nearly ended up crashing out over this. But whatever, right? There’s always multiple solutions to a single problem.

So, he then tried a more simple solution: trackers. Small tiny little things no bigger than his pinky finger. He stuck one onto Marvel’s shoulders as the Captain was leaving for the day.

Batman: “Captain. I would like to say that you fought wonderfully today.” *puts hand on Marvel’s shoulder and places the tracker*

Marvel: “You think so? Thanks.” *sunny ahh smile*

Bruce in fact did not think so, but he needed an excuse to touch Marvel’s shoulder. Anyways, the tracker didn’t even last an hour before he got a notification that it was broken, or rather fried, by electricity. Honestly, that might as well have been Bruce’s fault. One of the man’s major powers is electricity for Christ’s sake. So after a bit, he went and upgraded the trackers to now be electrical resistant.

Marvel: *walking to the zetas*

Batman: “Captain, you own a tiger, yes?” *starts walking with him*

Marvel: “Ah, yes, why?”

Batman: “Robin’s been asking about getting a tiger.”

Marvel: “Oh really? You wanna know some tips or something?”

Batman: “If you’d be willing to share, I’d appreciate it.”

Marvel: “Oh, okay then!” *proceeds to yap about tigers the whole was to the zetas*

Batman: *sneakily tacks the electric resistant tracker on him*

Bruce learned a lot about tigers that day. He never seen the man so informative and passionate about a subject other than magic. If only he’d put that same passion into his reports. Seriously, who alternates between their left and right arm on a professional report? At least do it on a piece of scratch paper or something. (This is a reference to post I saw a while ago about Marvel and Billy writing reports together. Because of that, half of the report was in super duper fancy shmancy handwriting and the other was in chicken scratch)

But anyways, back to the second tracker. See, it actually did the opposite of what it was designed to do, which was track and be resistant to electricity. It actually ended up shorting out and therefore losing its ability to track. Bruce now realized he underestimated Marvel’s electricity.

Now onto Bruce’s third attempt. He had the tracker enchanted with magic.

Batman: “Marvel, I’d like to talk to you about Junior.”

Marvel: “Sure? Is he in trouble?” *sounds concerned*

Batman: “No. You see, Robin’s been wanting to have a play date with him.”

Marvel: “Oh uh… I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” *sounds hesitant* “I’ll have to ask him about it:”

Batman: “That’s fine.” *pats his shoulder and plants the tracker* “Get back to me when you’ve both come to a decision.”

Funnily enough, Bruce didn’t even get ten feet away before he got a notification that the tracker was destroyed. Billy felt the magic in the tracker and honest to the gods he thought it was a bug and swatted his shoulder.

Meanwhile, Billy’s confused but happy that Batman has been talking to him so much recently.

Eventually, after much trial and error (47 attempts) Bruce finally got a tracker that worked. He watched on the GPS as Marvel dipped into an alleyway and… dipped off of the face of the earth? He stared at it for a solid minute wondering if he should be concerned. It’s not like Marvel knows he’s been trying to track him. He has no idea how upset the man would be so he waited. Five minutes passed of Bruce waiting for the little dot representing Marvel to reappear. He then couldn’t take it anymore and started spamming Cap’s comm and was about to notify the other JL members until he finally picked up.

Batman: “Captain? Captain, are you there?”

Marvel: “Yeah? Yeah I am Mister Batman Sir? Is something wrong?”

Batman: “The GPS on your comm showed that you disappeared off the map for fifteen minutes.”

Marvel: “Oh really? Well I’m sorry for worrying you, Mister Batman Sir. I just went to the Rock of Eternity. That’s probably why I didn’t appear.

Batman: “What is the Rock of Eternity?”

Marvel: “Oh, it’s this rock that’s the cent- OH SHOOT.” *loud crash comes from his end*

Batman: “Is everything alright?”

Marvel: “Yeah- look I’m sorry but Black Adam’s here and he just threw a building at me. See ya, Mister Batman Sir.”

So yeah. After everything he went through only to come up with no results, Bruce is mad. Rolling in his grave even. The worst part is that he doesn’t even technically have the right to be mad, considering the fact that he was going behind one of his colleagues back’s and trying to track them without their consent. Though to be fair, Bruce did it because you can’t just have somebody that powerful running around and unchecked without a recorded weakness. But what makes him even more mad is that just when he was about to get the slightest semblance of information, a villain ruined it. At least he has a name now. The Rock of Eternity. It’s probably a magic thing that he’ll end up asking Zatanna about. He hates magic.

[wip]

A very very minor thing I have been curious about for a while, and I'm finally asking: why do you calculate queue posting times the way you do? For example, if I set my queue to post 3x a day, naively I would expect it to post every 8 hours. But in reality it posts every 6 hours with a 12 hour gap between days. Why complicate the math like that?

Answer: Hello @circumference-pie!

Buckle up y’all, it’s story time again!

First: nobody who works at Tumblr right now was a part of the work of planning the default queue implementation, which was more than ten years ago. So the full story behind “Why does it work that way?” has unfortunately been lost to the sands of time. All we can do is tell you how it works today and surmise some reasons why. The queue is actually a very clever system and part of how it works explains some of why it works the way it does. Also, there have been attempts to do what you ask—we still have “Queue 2.0” available in your Tumblr Labs settings, which tries to get closer to how you expect things to work.

Anyway! How the queue works today is not actually a queue in the traditional sense. There is no single list of posts that are in “your queue”. Instead, when you “Add to queue” after creating a post, we’re actually scheduling it to post at a future time, as if you had used the “Schedule post” option instead. We’re just calculating that time on your behalf when you use “Add to queue”, based on your settings, and how many other scheduled posts you have already. We use a secondary “index” model, called “ScheduledPost”, to keep track of posts you have scheduled on your blog. We do mark the ones that are a part of “your queue”, but the data model doesn’t keep one list of your “queue” per se.

You can see this in action on your blog, hiding in plain sight. If you add a bunch of posts to your queue, and then schedule a post for a specific future date, you’ll see both in your blog’s “queue” list, side by side. Because technically to us, they’re the same thing: queued posts are really just another kind of scheduled post, relying on the same always-running service to publish scheduled posts across all of Tumblr. Here’s a fun fact: we typically have about ~14.5 million future posts to publish from this list at any given time and are publishing hundreds of these scheduled posts every second.

So when you’re adding a new post to your queue, what we’re doing behind the scenes is starting at the beginning of your “day”, and creating time slots based on your queue settings. If a time slot is already filled, we move on to the next one. That’s why the default queue scheduler works how you describe—we’re trying to fill those “slots” based on the start of the day, rather than trying to divide the calendar day evenly. This just makes it much simpler for us to understand, scale, and predict when our “peaks” will be. At peak times, the publish-scheduled-posts service is publishing tens of thousands of posts in a manner of seconds. We did rewrite that post-publishing part of this architecture a few years ago to improve its efficiency and solve a lot of “lost post” bugs, but we didn’t change how “Add to queue” works.

However, the Queue 2.0 project available in Labs was an attempt to change the queue system to work as you expect—instead of starting at [beginning of day] and creating enough slots to fit [number of slots] every [number of hours], it tries to divide the calendar day into [number of slots] and fit the result back to the original algorithm’s mapping of the day. We never productionized this alternative approach, because it has a few bugs that some blogs hit in extreme cases, and we’ve never had time to fully fix them. It also can cause a bit of weirdness when time zones diverge, like with daylight savings time. Also, a lot of people prefer the default algorithm, and we haven’t thought of a nice way to transition everyone from one to the other. So for now, both options exist, and you can choose which algorithm for queue-slot-generating you want to use. We hope that makes sense! 

While complicated, it is a great example of a system built by engineers to make sense and be scalable and predictable. But sometimes these kinds of systems, while clever, aren’t very intuitive to understand without digging into how they work.

Thanks for your question, and keep ’em coming. 

[itneverendshere]

all you've got to do is want something and then let yourself have it - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

this is a combination of a few requests: "hella see jj instantly jumping into uncle jay mode when autumn comes (...)  + "she's just so small against rafe and it's halloween where jj and monica and milo come stop by, and she's just so srunchy in her halloween onesie" + "the thought of baby cameron's first holiday being halloween! + thinking of jj having the most random nicknames for autumn that even rafes like what did u just call my daughter (...).

it was halloween—rafe’s first as a dad—and his baby girl, autumn, was just about a month old. his chest swelled with pride every time he looked at her—her little hands, those big blue eyes that still seemed so new to the world.

he'd never understood how people could fall in love so quickly with something so small. but now, looking down at her cute face, he couldn’t help but be consumed by it.

tonight wasn’t just another halloween—it was autumn's first.

rafe was determined to make it special. he'd even set up a few decorations in the living room, hoping to at least start the tradition early. not that she could enjoy it yet, but someday she would.

he heard the familiar chime of a text, swiping open his phone, he grinned at the picture you’d sent to the group chat. there was his baby girl, strapped in her car seat, snug as a bug, with her tiny fists curled up against the pumpkin onesie she was drowning in.

found her a decent costume, guess who’s about to come home! read your message.

he couldn’t stop himself from smiling as he replied, i bet she’s ready to see her daddy.

another message popped up from jj, his voice coming through as if he were already in full-on uncle jay mode. he hadn’t even seen the baby for more than a couple minutes, but he was all about claiming his spot in the family.

aw, my sweet little chipmunk must be so excited to see me!

“chipmunk?” rafe mumbled to himself, brows pulling together as he shook his head. that idiot had a nickname for autumn every week since she was born, and every week, they seemed to get more random.

he could picture it now—jj walking in and immediately stealing the kid from his arms, calling her some out-of-nowhere name.

just as he pocketed his phone, he heard the front door swing open.

there you were, his pretty wife with that tired-but-radiant look in your eyes that made him weak in the knees every time, and there was his little girl, her chubby cheeks smushed against the car seat strap, already half-asleep.

“hey, troublemaker,” he whispered to his daughter as he scooped her up, her onesie crinkling as she wiggled and blinked up at him.

rafe had never felt so big as he did when holding her; her whole body fit in his arms like she was meant to be there. the doorbell interrupted their little moment, and rafe smiled to himself.

right on time.

he opened the door to see jj, monica, and milo—the familiar, chaotic crew.

jj was already leaning in for autumn, hands outstretched like she was his to claim. he rushed over, grinning like a kid who’d just won the jackpot. “ohhh, chipmunk’s home!”

“alright, alright, hold on,” rafe grumbled, stepping back. he shook his head, giving jj a warning glance. “dude, she’s barely awake. can you let her at least stay asleep for five minutes?”

“eh, five minutes is all she needs,” jj smirked, taking her from rafe’s arms with ease. “monica always says she’s got my personality—just sleeps through everything.”

monica rolled her eyes. “i never said that. don’t put words in my mouth.”

“come on, rafey, princess fussy butt just needs her uncle.” he shot rafe a wink, then immediately started babbling nonsense to the baby, who blinked at him with that open-mouth stare, like she was trying to understand why everyone thought this dude was so funny.

"what did you just call my daughter?" rafe raised a brow. “princess fussy butt? really, dude?”

maybank just laughed. “better than ‘chipmunk'.”

milo, meanwhile, was tugging at your sleeve, showing you the skeleton costume he’d been wearing all day, rattling off about the latest candy haul he was plotting.

monica glanced over, shaking her head. “if you start with that nickname, she’s going to think it’s her real name by the time she’s two.”

“good,” jj smirked. “she’ll be ready to take on the world by then.”

rafe chuckled, glancing back at his baby, her scrunchy little self bundled in her onesie, eyes already half-shut.

“look at her,” he nodded towards jj, while you rested your head against his bicep.

“it’s her first holiday,” you murmured.

“yeah, and she’s got maniac jj, aunt monica, and the skeleton over there to keep it interesting,” he joked, watching milo comparing candy bars with jj in what looked like a serious negotiation.

he was still cradling autumn, making faces at her and talking to her in a voice that was a little too high-pitched for anyone but a baby. rafe watched from the couch now, his arms wrapped around you as you sat beside him, both of you listening to the holiday mess around you.

“hey, i swear, if she calls him ‘uncle jay’ before she can even say ‘mama’ or ‘dada,’ i’m gonna fucking' lose it,” rafe muttered under his breath to you, nudging your side.

you chuckled, lifting your gaze to meet his. “as long as she doesn’t call him ‘princess fussy butt,’ i think we’re good.”

first holidays were a big deal, but it was more than that.

this halloween was his first as a dad, and it felt like his whole life had changed in the best possible way. you two were building memories now, the kind that would last for years, traditions that he could carry with him and pass down.

milo, now done with his fifth round of candy negotiations with jj, walked over to you two, shaking his head in frustration as he planted himself right beside the couch.

“seriously, you gotta get him to shut up,” he complained, eyeing the blonde as he bounced autumn in his arms, making strange sounds in an attempt to get her to smile, and failing miserably.

rafe snickered, his arm still around you as he pulled you in closer. “what did i tell you, kid? maybank's gotta be himself. we can’t tame him.”

milo raised an eyebrow, then glanced at you, trying to change the subject. “so, can we continue the candy haul now, or…?”

you grinned, happy to let him off the hook. “you’ve been thinking about candy for the last hour, haven’t you?”

milo nodded vigorously. “well, yeah, but only because jay’s been ignoring me. i’m on a mission. i need your professional opinion on my stash.”

you shot a glance at rafe, who was trying to hide his amusement. “looks like milo’s ready to be your candy mentor,” you teased.

he shrugged. “i don’t know, man. i might’ve been planning to steal some of his stash later.” he winked at milo, who, despite being ten, was wise enough to know when they were messing around.

“i need your help to make sure i got the best stuff this year. it’s a whole strategic thing, okay?” he leaned in close, as if he were about to reveal some secret mission. “the candy’s gotta be in prime condition.”

you raised an eyebrow. “so, you’ve got it all laid out?”

“oh, you bet,” milo said, reaching for the plastic pumpkin bucket beside him. he held it up with a dramatic flourish, as if he were presenting treasure. “operation candy haul is a success.”

rafe nodded, “what do you need from us?”

milo went into full-on candy expert mode. “okay, here’s the rundown. first, we’ve got your classics—snickers, m&ms, twix. but then there’s the premium section—reese’s, kit-kats, and my personal favorite, the milky ways.” he paused, looking at you seriously. “you have got to help me sort this. we need an unbiased opinion.”

you tried not to chuckle at his intensity. “you’re taking this a little seriously for someone who’s only ten.”

“well, i’m not ten anymore,” he said matter-of-factly. “i’m, like, ten and a half now. that’s practically a teenager.”

“i’ll give you that,” rafe said with a grin, as you smothered a laugh. “so what’s next on your list, teenager milo?”

“for the final test, you’ve gotta rank the ones that have the most chocolate-to-nougat ratio. i’ll leave that to you.” milo said, clearly trusting rafe’s opinion on these serious matters.

“you’ve got it,” rafe replied, pretending to think deeply. “the most chocolate-to-nougat ratio… now that’s a crucial step. can’t mess with the classics, kid.”

“exactly!” milo nodded, looking up at you. “we need to do a double-check of his candy haul. make sure the ratios are balanced.”

you pretended to ponder it, peeking at the candy bucket with exaggerated seriousness. “okay, you’ve convinced me. i’m in.”

you turned to rafe, who was already pulling a few pieces of candy from the pile, ready to play along. jj, still holding autumn, caught wind of what was happening and walked over with a dramatic sigh.

“what’s going on here? i hear talk of candy, and i need in.”

“too late,” milo said, grinning at him like he’d won a major victory. “i’m running this operation now.”

jj, not one to be outdone, threw a playful scowl at him. “when did you start talking back?”

as you and rafe dove into the candy sorting, a tiny whimper broke the festive ambience. everyone paused, glancing over to where jj was still cradling autumn and her face had gone from sleepy to fussy in seconds, her lips wobbling as her eyes squeezed shut.

“oh no, no, no...” jj muttered, bouncing her a little too enthusiastically, trying to avoid the inevitable meltdown. “come on, chipmunk, we’re just getting started here—don’t bail on me now.”

her hands clenched, and then came the wail—a high-pitched, all-out baby cry that instantly turned heads, her tiny face was scrunched, cheeks red, and her lungs proving just how powerful they were for someone so small.

“oh, jj,” you sighed, moving to take her, but rafe was already up, a smile spreading across his face as he reached for her.

“alright, alright, time’s up,” rafe said, easing her from jj’s arms. he held her close, gently rocking her, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her tiny back. “hey, sweet girl,” he murmured softly, his voice dropping into that warm, gentle tone reserved just for her. “shh, it’s okay.”

as if by magic, her cries began to ease, her little body relaxing against rafe as she blinked up at him, still sniffling but calming with each second. she reached a tiny hand up, clutching onto his sweater.

jj put his hands on his hips, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “see that? kid won’t cry for anyone else. i think i’m losing my charm.”

rafe smirked, not looking up from his daughter, “told you, maybank. you gotta have the touch.”

you leaned into him as he sat back down, resting your chin on his shoulder as you watched her settle, her wide eyes blinking up at you both, taking in the world from the safe haven of her dad’s arms.

the blonde grinned, putting a hand on his heart in mock sadness. “well, fine then. guess she’s got her favorites.”

monica elbowed him, rolling her eyes, “they made her, you idiot.”

“ew.” he gave you and rafe a teasing side-eye, earning a good-natured smack from your sister.

autumn, oblivious to all the drama, had already snuggled back into her dad’s chest, letting out a sleepy sigh. rafe’s face softened as he looked down at her, his fingers tracing gentle circles on her back.

halloween had never felt more complete, and as you looked at your husband holding your daughter, you knew it wouldn’t be the last.

[felixcloud6288]

Dungeon Meshi Final Chapter

This is it. This is what the series is about. The joy of sharing meals with those you love.

The title image has several dishes that were made throughout the series. Here's what I identified:

Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom Hotpot (Chapter 1)

Man-Eating Plant Tart (Chapter 2)

Mandrake and Basilisk Omelet (Chapter 4)

Living Armor Soup (Chapter 7) and /or Hippogriff Soup (Chapter 49)

Grilled Living Armor (Chapter 7), Boiled Mimic (Chapter 13), and Steamed Nightmares (Chapter 42)

Coin Bug Crackers (Chapter 10)

Prayer to Ward Off Evil! Exorcism Sorbet (Chapter 11)

Golden Wheat Bread (Chapter 12)

Giant Parasite From a Giant Squid (Chapter 16)

Tentacle Gnocchi (Chapter 21)

Sauerkraut-Style Dryad Buds (Chapter 34)

Barometz Balut (Chapter 44)

Sausage and Pancakes from the Breakfast Senshi Made (Chapter 47)

Boiled Hippogriff Potstickers (Chapter 50)

Hamburg Steak with Changeling Sauce (Chapter 55)

Unnamed Egg Dish Kabru Served Mithrun (Chapter 62)

Golden Country Dragon Wing (Chapter 72)

Pie That Marcille Wanted (Chapter 85)

Izutsumi has a bowl with a mushroom in it. She hasn't eaten it yet, but she might be trying to eat things she doesn't like.

I'll bet it was Kabru's idea to invite people from all around. The Town Crier's words sound like the kind of propaganda Kabru would create.

Flamela and her aide become very talkative when drunk. Those orcs may have learned ancient secrets that Kabru and Marcille have been trying to uncover their whole lives.

The demon wanted to make a blissful meal that lasts for eternity. Laios put on a grand feast and everyone in attendance was sick of eating after just seven days. More proof that the demon's plan was doomed to fail.

Fleki has eaten so much that she's got a balloon belly.

Twin braids is probably the most elaborate hairstyle Chilchuck can do. At least Marcille's braids have matching clips.

Could this be the curse?!?

Izutsumi has to always be edgelord cool person.

Huh. I would have thought Laios would have already told everyone about the lion's curse by now. But they all agree that there's no way the lion's curse has anything to do with Falin.

Not entirely sure why Marcille is afraid of hurting Laios by telling him the curse likely doesn't have to do with Falin. I guess he just already has enough to worry about. The last thing he needs is to worry about being able to resurrect Falin AND there's some other goal he is cosmically denied.

This series has a lot of themes surrounding eating as a form of social bonding and happiness. And this final chapter is explaining how it's not possible to enjoy a meal together forever because death is an inevitability.

And in addition, another theme of this series is the connection to what we eat. We eat to live, but something has to die to do that, and we shouldn't take life for granted.

But also, this is a comedy manga about a bunch of goofballs eating weird monsters. You're free to find deeper meaning to anything, but you don't need to ascribe meaning to everything.

I wonder if Izutsumi and Lycion have a similar scenario in their souls. Their human souls pin down the beast souls in them so they are the dominant being.

The moment her legs were restored.

She had the chance to discard the dragon entirely, but she chose to bring it with her.

The demon is a form and personality mana took to better understand humans and other living things. When it first came to the world, it responded to the millions of creatures wanting to eat. It understood that eating doesn't satisfy forever, and whatever gets eaten becomes part of the world.

The demon decided to join in on eating and being eaten because it wanted to know why everything participated in this. But it came to the wrong conclusion that eating was something done only for temporary pleasure. It thought the eternal happiness the ancients wished for was simply infinite food and eternally full bellies. And it couldn't understand why they wished for their destruction even though they had that.

The demon was okay with being eaten because it was infinite. No matter how much of it was consumed, it never lost anything. But Laios ate its desires and that core bit that defined the demon's self was lost. It's appetite became part of Laios and the demon has since realized that eating is more than just a pleasurable activity. It's also how we obtain the nutrients we need to stay alive and maintain our bodies. We don't just eat food and then poop it out. What we eat becomes part of us.

Laios kept a brooch of the winged lion as part of his royal garments because he believes the winged lion genuinely wanted to make people happy. He wished for the lion to not be forgotten and keep watching over the world. And the lion has chosen to fulfill that wish.

At its core, the demon may have actually desired to be part of the world. While its infinite self makes it impossible to truly exist within the finite world, it has found a role it is satisfied to have. It has stopped being a living creature and is now a force that living beings can use and helps their existence.

Falin's dress was fine until this moment. The threads look like blood vessels.

Pattadol probably styled Marcille's hair here. Unlike Marcille, Pattadol had only one way she decorated her hair and it's pretty similar to this.

Happy reunions all around. Falin's a little better at remembering people than Laios, but she only remembers Senshi as that guy who cooked them a meal.

Since when?

Pattadol is trying to look proper and not nosy at all, but her fairy was trying to listen in on everything as well.

Shuro can't bear to look at Falin right now.

The orcs like to gift vegetable crops. Maybe that adds to why they like Senshi so much.

Of course, they might also be trying to cozy up to King Laios by giving his sister gifts.

Not the most exciting final meal the series could have had.

She's got little dragon fangs too.

And it makes one last joke at Laios's expense. Despite achieving everything most people could ever desire, it meant nothing to him because he couldn't be around monsters anymore.

And one of the themes of this series is accepting that you can't have everything you want but you can still find joy in what you have. Laios may not be able to make a kingdom of monsters, but he can still make a kingdom where all races can live together, share meals, and eat what they like with the people they like.

back

[tokoyamisstuff]

Delicate

Homelander x F! Reader

Summary: You and Homelander have been official for a while now, but you have yet to understand why things never went beyond a certain line.

Warnings: slight angst, slight manhandling, somnophilia, masturbation, explicit smut, praise kink, dirty talk, oral sex

A/N: not proofread as always bc I cringe at my own writing. take it or leave it

Homelander had never learned how to be gentle.

Of course he knew how to touch someone without breaking them if necessary, but there's limits to his self-restraint. Especially when it came to the intimate kind of encounter.

This sadistic side of his was an expression of his desperate need for control, an inability to truly let himself fall and be vulnerable with another person.

For decades his mantra was that normal humans only exist for supes' - and mostly his - entertainment. Your weakness was his thrill, the sheer difference in power so ridiculously high that you might as well be filthy bugs - and Homelander was like a cruel child with a magnifying glass.

Usually his mates were supes themselves and even they could barely handle his violent urges, but you are a mere human. So fragile and precious that it terrified him at times.

What if he loses control in the heat of the moment? What if he breaks you? Or even worse: What if you see him for the monster he really is and run away like everyone eventually does?

A while ago Homelander heard the story about Ice Princess' fling, some Vought employee nobody. She accidentally froze his penis off during climax. Hilarious, honestly. The first time he heard this story he had a very good laugh, and he still can't look that guy in the eye without cackling when he passes him in the hallways.

But now, being romantically involved with one of those weaklings himself, the possibility of something similar happening to you made his stomach turn...

...but of course, as Homelander always does, he chose to ignore the problem at hand instead of addressing it.

Why bother with an unpleasant conversation if he can just prolong this innocent, chaste bond for as long as possible? He'd rather have you like this than unnecessarily putting you into harm's way.

You on the other hand slowly but steadily grew impatient with your boyfriend.

At first you thought he was merely being chivalrous, but it's been three months and still nothing. He's famous, so you had involuntarily learned about his past affairs - and he's definetly not old-fashioned.

Then why is he hesitating so much?

Most of the time you don't dare talking about what's bothering you, simply because any issue of yours seemed so insignificant compared to the horrible things John's been through.

Admittedly, he once literally lasered a guy's head into mush just for throwing a can to his son's head. So while his reactions can be a bit unpredictable, John cares so deeply about the few people he loves that you want to spare him any more trouble.

Unhealthy way of handling things, admittedly.

Last week you had planned it all out: What you could only describe as the perfect date was supposed to continue in his apartment, and you could literally see all blood flow from his brain to nether regions as you entered the bedroom in finest lingerie.

Anyways, you had initiated several times up until now, and initially he'd always go along with it. However as soon as your make-out-sessions turn more heated, he'd abruptly end them and practically storm off.

Everything went so well at first, with you straddling his waist and tentatively grinding against his lap. His hands moved against his will as his resolve crumbled, finding the curves of your body and relishing in the feeling of your exposed skin under his gloves. His jaw clenched as he fought the urge to go all out, fearing dangerous consequences.

A proper dosage of pain can function as aphrodisiac, at least in your opinion. So you didn't tell him to stop, in fact your senses were too clouded by desire to even notice the way his fingers dug into the cushion of your hips.

Yet there was just the tiniest microexpression, just the fraction of a second where your heart sped up and your face contorted in pain...

...and Homelander, shocked with himself, threw you so frantically off of his lap, you landed face firsr on the floor instead of the bed.

Against all reasoning, you laughed hysterically at his not-so-subtle rejection, and god knows you'll tease him about it until forever. But also, understandably, on the inside you were as hurt and confused as never before.

Doesn't make it any better that your boyfriend had been avoiding you like you were the goddamn pest ever since.

Just like today, when Homelander comes home to you way past midnight, double checking with his x-ray-vision whether you were already fast asleep.

John was aware that this topic has been tormenting you for a while now, and while he never intended to hurt you - quite the opposite, really - he also clung to this pleasant illusion he had created with you.

Lucky at cards, unlucky in love, or so they say.

The course of his life had convinced him that all remotely good things happening to him will be taken away again. A farce prepared by destiny itself just to mock him, maybe evening out the scales since he had been blessed with too much power.

On days as shitty as this one however, nothing compares to having someone to come home to - even when he made sure that you weren't awake to confront him. He tosses his boots aside, grateful for you to be a sound sleeper as they fell to the floor with a loud thump.

Your boyfriend's heart sinks as he pulls up the blanket, being greeted by a handprint-shaped bruise on the side of your hip. Seems like it still hurts too much to sleep on that side. His fingertips run over the dark purple-ish mark, a pained groan escaping your throat when he gives in to the temptation to squeeze your ass.

He really is the worst.

Homelander freezes until he's certain you continue sleeping undisturbed, the sound of his own heart hammering against his chest drowning out all other noise. His palm is still lingering on your body, running up and down your sides and earning relieved sighs in return.

Before you'd feel his excitement too much, he manages to tear his body away from you, his erection twitching painfully as he rolled onto his back.

John really had pure intentions when he embraced you from behind, simply wanting to distract himself and fall asleep while cradling you in his arms - yet instead his already hard cock buries itself neatly between your thighs, the friction making him utter vile things.

Damn it Y/N, why the fuck do you always sleep in underwear only?! Is it to taunt him or to test his limits? Because it's working.

A breathy moan escapes his lips as he spread his legs wide, cock already leaking precum when he ran his thumb across the slid. He grabs it fiercely, pumping hard to make quick work of it, while roaming every inch of your skin he can get his other free hand on.

"Need some help with that?"

Shit.

ShitshitshitshitSHIT!

Seems like he was a little too busy with getting off - so much that even his heightened senses didn't catch you waking up to this scene. Your boyfriend had a habit of sleeping naked, so right now there was none of what he did left to the imagination.

"Heyyy sweetheart..." John tried to put on his trusty showman attitude, an awkward grin stretched across his face while trying to cover himself with the next best pillow. "Sorry babe, didn't wanna wake you up. Just go back to slee-"

"And miss out on the show?" you chuckle half-sleepily and he wants to die. He's done worse things in his life, way worse to be precize - so why is he fucking shy nowy just because you caught him? "Aww, you're blushing." He contemplates lasering your lips together to make you shut up.

"C'mon, John, I know you're holding back for some reason, but we don't have to go all out." Shuffling closer to your boyfriend, you give him those damn doe-eyes he can never say no to. "And I'd love to lend you a hand, if you know what I mean."

John instinctively closes his eyes as your face moves closer, lips eagerly awaiting yours...

...but just when you were about to touch him, he takes a hold of your wrist. "Y/N, I-" he shakes his head, trying to regain his composure. "Just- just let me go to the bathroom, okay?"

You frown. Worse, the humiliation makes tears dwell in your eyes. Pushing your partner is wrong, but without context you really start doubting yourself here.

Suddenly the stench of fear was lingering in the air, and your heart starts racing like a hummingbird. Trying to calm yourself was a fruitless attempt in front of a man that could perceive almost anything, even your pathetic strangled sobs.

So he was right: You're afraid and maybe even disgusted by his behavior, and just offered yourself to placate him.

Maybe he should just snap your neck to escape the inevitable heartbreak.

"A-Are you cheating on me?"

"Huh?" That question caught him off guard. He was prepared to hear anything, seriously all kinds of insults or accusations, but that? "Are you dense? Why the fuck would I cheat on you?"

And that's when it dawns on him: You are scared - but not of him.

To your defense, he did have a reputation of not being able to keep it in his pants. Maeve had remarked that fact more than once so you wouldn't forget. And him constantly being swarmed by the prettiest celebrities didn't do any good to your self-esteem either.

You're scared of him leaving you.

"Then what is it?" you sniveled, shrinking into yourself as you hugged your own legs. Seeing you like this and knowing he's responsible was somehow even worse than his earlier apprehensions. "You always react as if you got burned whenever we touch. Did I do something wrong, or- or am I not attractive enough?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" John scoffs in an almost irritated tone, unable to refrain from rolling his eyes. Comforting people didn't really come easy to him, even if he hated himself for not being able to let the shielding facade drop just this once. "You're gorgeous and you know that! C'mon, you women are always causing arguments out of thin air. Stop making this about yourself, would y-"

Seeing your glossy eyes turn into a glare at his ramblings made him shut up immediately, but the damage has already been done. "You know what, I'll-" For a while, you sit on the edge of the bed thinking and with every passing second of silence, Homelander's anxiety skyrockets. "I think it's better if I sleep at my own place for a while."

That's exactly what he's talking about, damn it! The line between control and insanity is a thin thread, and he is not willing to take any chances - when it comes to you at least.

"No!" he almost screams at you, jumping up from the bed and pointing a warning finger at you. "You're not going fucking anywhere!" When he sees your wary expression John's eyes soften, instantly regretting his outburst.

Why does he always fuck up? Why can he never seem to keep what makes him happy? Why can't he be what you need?

Homelander buries his face in his hands, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself just like you taught him. "Look, I-" He reluctantly put his hands on each of your shoulders and when you don't flinch away, he starts rubbing circles on your back. You always do it for him when he's upset, so he figures maybe it can help you too. "Please...I'll tell you the truth, okay? Just...don't leave."

You turn around to face him, nodding mutely as he wipes a tear from your cheek with his thumb. Seeing you cry was gutwrenching, moreso when he was the reason. "I..." he helplessly gestures around, wishing there was a script to this like he was usually provided. "I tend to become...rough."

"So?" The initial hurt now turned into confusion, suspicion even about whether he was telling the truth. You defendingly cross your arms, like a barrier so you wouldn't falter before you got answers.

"I'm not made out of glass." Compared to his strenght, you might as well be. "And I can talk. If you become too wild I'll let you know."

Stubborn as always. But he loved that about you, too. "It's not that easy, Y/N." His head falls in defeat and exasperation. John's about to cry himself, and he hates you seeing him anything less than perfect. "I'll hurt you, and then you'll hate me. Or worse..."

Consciously ignoring the worse part, you cup both sides of his face, making him look up to meet your eyes. "John..."

You straddle his waist again, feeling relief now that you finally understood. Peppering kisses across his face and neck you whisper "I was so, so worried you had grown tired of me..."

"Never." Homelander wasn't someone to apologize often, let alone sincerely. The times he did ever since leaving the lab he can count on one hand.

But despite him being...well, him, John knows best what it's like to be plaqued by insecurities. He hugs you tight enough to make you feel the sincerity of his words. "I only wanted to protect you. I never wanted to make you feel this way."

"Next time talk to me from the start, okay?" You smile softly as he aggrees, and he doubts to be deserving of all your sympathy.

Your hands never leave his body, featherlight touch reassuringly calming his nerves. And yet together with the fact that the only thing currently separating your bodies was your thin panty, it was no wonder that his body reacted the way it did.

A moan disrups your conversation when his cock stiffens again, and you can't help but buck your hips against him in response. Your panties were already soaking anyway, due to the friction and his dirty little deed earlier.

The scent of your lust wipe all negative emotions from your boyfriend's mind, replacing them with something else.

"I want you, John" you breathe against his ear and he whines. "We could just take it slowly..."

"I don't know how" he admits, and you smile at his reluctant aggreement. Gently being shoved down on his back again, it feels like he melts beneathe your fingertips. "Then I'll teach you."

Goosebumps rise on his skin as your fingertips ghost over his body, and you lean over for a longdue kiss, so tender and affectionate John thinks he will fall apart.

Homelander's groan gets swallowed by your lips as you pull your panties aside, slick folds now grinding against his cock. Your name falls from his lips in meek whimpers and you refuse to believe this wonderful man could ever harm you.

"Let me take care of you." Shit, how do you always know exactly what to say?

Raking your hands through your hair as you sit up, air gets stuck in Homelander's throat at the sight, making him choke.

You look fucking magnificent.

Hell, he'd pay an artist to paint you like this so he could look at it forever. If only it didn't require another person seeing you naked...

"You know, I thought it was just my imagination..." A mischievous smile plays on your lips now that you think of it. "But my panties have been disappearing a lot lately."

Your boyfriend didn't respond anything else but a whimmer, shame washing over him at being caught. Not that he was really subtle to begin with.

"Speak up" you tease, giving his shaft a soft squeeze and he instinctively thrusts into your hand like a dog in heat. "Did you use them to get yourself off to your fantasies, huh? Naughty boy." His cock twitches in your palm at the words. "From now on, I want you to come to me for release. Always."

"I trust you" you add as doubt is clearly written on his face, voice firm and as unwavering as your loving eyes, driving tears into his own. You lower yourself on his cock, savouring the feeling of being filled out like this. "Mhh...you feel so good inside of me. Will you behave, John?"

"Y-Yes..." was all he managed to wring out, since it takes every ounce of strenght inside of him to not cum to your sweet affirmations right away. John clutches the bedframe so hard that it crumbles under his grip, but to his surprise you don't wince at the sound - quite the opposite, it shot a wave of heat right through your core.

"John...look at me." You guide his hands away from his eyes to cup your breasts instead, looking at him like he's the best fucking thing in the world. The intensity of your gaze causes him to shiver, makes him wanna hide.

Yes, this is too good to be true.

Whatever you see in him right now he will taint with his own hands given time.

And yet he can't stop anymore, now that he's aware of the depht your love helds for him.

You read him like a damn book, noticing his internal struggle so you silence the voices in his head with a passionate kiss. "So good for me, John" you cheer him on, moving your hips at a low pace.

Tension finally leaves his body and he dives his tongue into your mouth, groaning deeply as he moves his body alongside yours. His touch was careful yet bruising, sending pleasant tingles down your spine.

"I love you, John" you cry out as your foreheads touch, eyes never leaving his. "I love you so damn much!"

That declaration was enough to drive him over the edge.

Homelander pulls you as close as close as humanly possible when he stills momentarily, jackknive-like thrusts chasing after his high. The sounds he made as you got filled up bordered on obscene, as did the amount of cum spilling out of you.

"Shit" he speaks breathlessly against your skin, covering a bitemark he had just caused with kisses. "M'sorry..."

And yet he wasn't willing to let go off of you just yet, this amazing orgasm unable to ward off the embarassment of his poor performance.

"Never apologize for having a good time, silly" you chuckle, brushing your nose against his. "I'm flattered, if anything."

John never knew that sex could be so...satisfying, more than just physically. Filled with carefree laughter instead of expectations.

After all, he was conditioned to never wanna disappoint.

"Nah-a-ah." You yelped as he spun you around effortlessly, now him being the one howering over you, bearing his canines like a starved predator. "I refuse to let my goddess go unworshipped."

"John...I'm okay, really. Sex between lovers is not just about that..." And yet when he opens your legs, you don't resist.

He bets you taste just as fucking good as you smell, feisty little thing. Driving him crazy all those weeks. Do you have any idea how hard it was to endure this sweet torture for your sake?!

A shiver runs down your spine when he licks his lips at the sight of your leaking entrance, taking a deep inhale. There's a hunger in his eyes that no sane person could ever comprehend - but you indulged in it, craved in his twisted kind of love.

Heh, you were a goddamn freak just like him all along, isn't that right?

Homelander takes his time kissing a path down to your navel, admiring the marks he left on your body he was now able to see as the lovebites they are. He briefly looks up to assure himself of your consent, an answering smile all he needs to continue.

"Myyyy tuuuurn" he chants so cheerful, you almost thought he had put on his formal persona.

A relieving finger finally has mercy and slides into your already overstimulated sex, making you arch your back when he curls it inside. Pleads and curses falling from your lips as he enters a second one and then another, and you desperately try to move yourself deeper onto him.

"Attagirl!" Seems like his confidence has returned, at least judging by that damn smug smile his tone indicated. The frustrated pout you wore right now was so adorable, he decided to end your misery and bury his head between your legs as well.

You were still fucking yourself on his fingers while he relished the taste of himself on your pussy, before enveloping your clit with his tongue. "That's my fucking girl right there" he mouths as he ate you out, pumping his fingers keenly on your weak spot he so easily found. "Come on, I want to hear you."

When you came it felt like you were ascending to the afterlife, screaming his name at the top of your lungs before collapsing into the sheets.

Your legs had long since gave out but John put them over his shoulders, humping the mattress while his tongue still ran over your nerve endings, shooting jolts of overwhelming pleasure through your system.

"Oopsie" he coos, a predatory glint in his eyes as he crawled on top of you again, his kiss giving you a taste of your own spent. "Made me hard again."

You eyes flutter open after the last bit of your climax had ebbed out, exhausted yet invitingly batting your lashes as your limbs entangled once again.

"Seems like I found the Homelander's weakness."

[bangtanintotheroom]

On the Nose (M)

I'ma put this pussy on your face

Open up boy, come and get a taste

🔊 just wanna - iggy azalea (spotify | soundcloud) 🔊

• Pairing: Dokyeom x (F)Reader

• Genre: Non-Idol!AU, Humor, Smut, Friends to Lovers

• Rating: 18+

• Words: 2.5k

• Summary: Seokmin thinks his nose might be too big. You’re quick to give him reasons as to why he’s wrong.

• Warnings/themes: insecurity, reassurance, OC with the compliments 🥹, Seokmin getting carried away, face-sitting, oral (f. receiving), groping, multiple orgasms, overstimulation

• Notes: Look, all I'm going to say is that my thing for noses flares up whenever I look at DK and that was the inspo for this drabble. So sit and enjoy AJ's unhinged mind 🤪✨ thanks again to @wooahaeproductions for being an awesome beta! 💖

Reminder that I have a permanent taglist if you’re interested in all future fics I post!

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“Is my nose too big?”

Your friend’s out of nowhere question made you pause your mobile game and look up in bewilderment. You found him standing in front of his dresser, head leaned in close to the mirror.

“What? No, it’s not.”

Seokmin hummed, the tone unconvinced.

“Are you sure? You can be honest with me, y’know.”

Frowning deeply, you set your phone down and rose from the bed to walk over and stand next to him.

“Seokmin, why would I lie? Your nose is fine. Did someone say something about it?”

“No…”

His trailing off did not deter you from digging deeper.

“Seokmin.”

Your biting tone and hard stare made him flinch, not wanting to feel your wrath.

“No one said anything, per se, but they were looking. Really hard.”

“Who?”

Seokmin’s reflection shrugged his broad shoulders.

“Multiple people. We’d be having a conversation and I’d just notice their eyes going to my nose at some point.”

His explanation gave you some clarity now, but were they really thinking negative thoughts about it? You couldn’t understand why the poor guy was so concerned about his nose all of a sudden. To you, it was one of his best features.

Yes, he had a blinding smile. Yes, you would kill to have his cheekbones. Yes, he was just a handsome guy in general.

But having a dignified and regal nose increased his looks by at least fifty percent (if you were being modest).

It just suited him so well that you couldn’t picture him with anything more basic or minuscule. Anything less pointy and upright would not fit Lee Seokmin.

“Seokmin, maybe they were looking because they like it.”

Your friend turned away from the mirror to study you with interest.

“You think so?”

You gazed up at him confidently.

“I know so.”

“But don’t people usually prefer smaller noses?”

A scoff left before you explained, “Fuck what beauty standards say, I think big noses are one of the best things anyone could have. Think about it. When people get plastic surgery, they can only go smaller, not bigger, right?”

”Right…”

“So it’s something that’s natural and only special people are blessed with! Like yourself!”

Your reassurance was paired with a tap to said special feature, pulling a bright grin from Seokmin.

“Y/N, you know just how to cheer me up, don’t you?”

“Of course, dummy. That’s what friends are for!”

The both of you giggled, the atmosphere lighter than before due to your affirmations. It felt good to ease his worries, but as you laughed, one last fact came to your brain.

It wasn’t as innocent as the previous ones, but it was a truth for you. One you had personal experience with on more than one occasion.

“Seokmin.”

“Hm?”

“You know what else big noses are really good for?”

Seokmin’s dark brown eyes watched you with curiosity and a hint of eagerness.

“What?”

You looked up at him, face blank like a sheet of paper.

“Sitting on.”

He became a cartoon character immediately, eyes bugging and mouth flying open to let out a yelp while his hands covered his ears.

“Y/N! What?!”

“Hey—” You reached up to rip his palms down so he could hear properly. “—it’s true!”

“Is it, you…you…pervert? Or are you just making things up to make me feel better?!”

A scowl came across your face as you lightly punched his arm.

“I’m serious, idiot! Have you never heard of a girl using someone’s nose to get off?”

“No! Well, I mean, maybe, but I wasn’t paying attention if anyone did say that.”

Rolling your eyes, you crossed your arms and readied yourself to continue convincing him.

“It’s true, okay?”

Seokmin blinked before squinting his eyes.

“And who’s your source?”

You met him with nothing but passiveness.

“Me, myself and I.”

All he could do was gape at you like a fish, stunned that you were revealing such an intimate secret about yourself.

Now, you were used to Seokmin’s dramatic reactions to mundane or extreme situations, but he usually did it out of fun. Yet something about the way his eyes darted all over your face told you that it was genuine astonishment he gave.

Which led to you challenging, “What, you’ve never had anyone sit on your face before?”

“No!”

Huh. Shocker.

“Really?”

His frantic nod only made your brows raise in wonder. It was a shame that this man had never been privy to the act. God strategically placed his nose at such an angle to reach crevices deep within women and it was being wasted for everything else but that.

An idea began brewing in you, wanting to convince him that he was missing out on something fun.

Licking your lips, you cocked your head to the side and let your suggestion out.

“Wanna try?”

Seokmin became too stunned to speak. All he could do was sputter at your offer.

“I— Y/N, you—!”

“Seokmin, I’m serious. It’s an experience.”

The way you grinned slyly was akin to suggesting your friend cut class with you, not let you use his face as a grinding pad.

“How am I going to convince you if you won’t let me sit on your face?”

Seokmin’s ajar mouth finally shut, jaw clenched as he looked you over from head to toe, gauging the seriousness of your offer. He saw little deceit and seemed to relax a bit.

“Y/N…would you really do that?”

You nodded.

“If it’ll make you feel better about your nose, absolutely. You’re welcome to say no if you don’t want to, though.”

The other pulled in his lower lip as he mulled over his answer. You were middle of the road right now. If he said no, you would take no offense and carry on like nothing happened. But if he said yes…

“Then…let’s try it.”

Oh. Neat!

Smiling in triumph, you held your arm out towards the bed.

“Go get comfortable.”

Seokmin’s lips quirked lightly at your instructions, walking over to lie on his back in the middle of the mattress. His head lifted to peer at you with query.

“Is this a good position?”

“Perfect. You’re a beginner, so it’s best if you stay completely flat.”

Humming at your reasoning, his eyes widened when your hands reached for your bottoms, undoing them as if you were undressing at the end of a long day. You saw him visibly swallow when your pants pooled around your ankles. But then he clutched the sheets when your fingers crept under the elastic of your panties, sliding them down your legs.

Seokmin tried his best to look less petrified as you looked up after stepping out of your clothes and walked over. Climbing onto the bed, you kneeled next to his torso, raising a brow down at him.

“Ready for me?”

An audible gulp came from your friend before he nodded quickly. With a sigh, you eased, “I’m not gonna suffocate you. Relax.”

The reminder seemed to lessen his nerves as he laid back again, giving you a jerk of his chin. The invitation prompted you to straddle his chest and keep an eye on his facial expression, only to catch him staring between your legs.

“What?”

Seokmin’s cheeks reddened before he shook his head quickly. “N-Nothing. So how does this go?”

“Literally just eat me out like you would with any other girl. But throw your nose into the mix.”

“Like, nudge you with it?”

“Mhm. Just follow your instincts, there’s not much wrong you can do with it.”

The man underneath you nodded before taking in a deep breath. As soon as he motioned you to scoot up with his eyes, you moved forward to hover over his lips. Trusting your core to keep you balanced, you let out your own held breath.

“Ready whenever you are.”

Seokmin gave a thumbs up, waiting until you lowered down so your folds were a whisper away from his mouth. He leaned up to brush his lips against them, the light touch making your spine straighten. It felt as if he was testing the waters, wanting to see just how sensitive you were. But he didn’t wait long to up the pressure, pulling the quietest of gasps out.

“Better?”

You would’ve giggled at the way his voice came out somewhat muffled if it wasn’t for the warmth starting to build in your gut.

“Yeah. Just do what you usually do, ‘Min.”

“Let me know if I have to switch it up.”

He returned to work, bringing his tongue into the mix to trace up and down. A louder noise came from your mouth at the thorough sensation, eyes fluttering. The question of whether Lee Seokmin was good at oral never crossed your mind, but now the answer was going to remain cemented in there.

Especially when the appendage sunk in between to run up and down your entrance.

“Oh shit—”

You were too distracted to see Seokmin’s eyes crinkle at your low moan, continuing the action to be rewarded with more. But after a while of this, you remembered the main reason why this was even happening in the first place. Swallowing a sound, you croaked out, “Seokmin.”

“Mm?”

“Your nose—”

The reminder had him make what you imagined was a noise of realization. And just like you wanted, the end of something soft yet sharp nudged your swollen clit.

“Ah— There you go.”

You gave encouragement, hoping it would push your friend to use his God-given gift to the fullest. It took some time, but Seokmin nuzzled the bud harder while simultaneously working his tongue below. Your warmth expanded into a tingling heat that traveled up and down your spine and into your fingers and toes, soft pants beginning to fall from your agape mouth.

You weren’t sure how long he had been at it, but you began to feel the telltale signs of a climax approaching. Not wanting to throw him off his game, you bit your tongue and allowed yourself to continue enjoying this experience of Seokmin learning the benefits of having a perfectly sculpted nose.

As the throes of ecstasy began to wash over your body, you hoped that he would carry this lesson through the rest of his life to treat any lucky girl.

Panting softly as you came down, the attention between your legs paused for a bit. But just as you were about to climb off and congratulate your friend for a job well done, the motions started up again, forcing you to gasp in sensitivity.

“’Min, what are you—”

A harsh bump to your still throbbing clit interrupted your query and a poke to your twitching cunt silenced you completely. All you could do was sit above Seokmin in utter shock as he continued to please you with his mouth.

Your complete surprise melted the further he went, brain shutting down to simply enjoy what he was giving you. At one point, you felt vibrations and started to hear something akin to mumbling from between your legs.

“Huh?”

The vibrations went on, but you still couldn’t make out what was being said.

“Seokmin, I can’t hear you, stop for a second.”

What might have been a groan sounded against your slick folds before Seokmin pulled back to husk out, “Sit on my tongue.”

Your mouth dropped, stunned at the request and the way he stuck out said muscle between his slick-coated lips.

But your hips went on autopilot and moved forward to grant him his wish. As soon as you sat down, the desire to use his tongue as a grinding pad came over. It seemed to be a wise choice as you could feel the strongest vibration so far against your pussy.

Seokmin surprised you again when one of his hands moved from the bed to rest on your waist before sliding over and up your torso. It seemed to be on autopilot as it aimed to touch your covered breast, only stopping short just as his fingertips were about to brush the bottom curve. Clicking your tongue at his unwanted hesitation, you covered his palm with your own and brought it to its intended destination.

“Don’t hold back.”

As soon as you let go, Seokmin took your command and ran to the bank with it. Long fingers groped and massaged at the mound, making your back arch in enjoyment. Enjoyment that pushed you higher and higher to another precipice, faster than before. While you trembled above your friend, you couldn’t believe that he kept this up. You figured that once would be enough to prove your point, but he just would not stop.

He continued even after you came for the second time, giving everything he had. You could feel yourself hurtling towards a third orgasm as Seokmin wouldn’t let you be. But when the tip of his nose felt too pointy and the flat of his tongue too rough for your sensitive folds, you decided to put an end to the experience.

“S-Stop—“

Pointless. He just kept going.

Stifling a whimper of discomfort, you were forced to reach down and pull at his dark brown locks.

“Christ, Seokmin, stop!”

Finally, your prayers were heard. Seokmin winced at your tug and removed his mouth from you to gape incredulously.

“Yah, why’d you stop me?”

You ignored the unusually titillating rasp of his voice to scowl down.

“I think you proved my point…too many times!”

Your emphasis was supported with a flick to his wet nose.

“You trying to kill me?!”

“No! I just got caught up in the moment! I’m sorry.”

The genuine remorse in his explanation made you relax a bit, soothing his scalp with a gentle ruffle of his hair.

“It’s alright, ‘Min. You did good…too good.”

As expected, Seokmin’s smile outshone the sun itself, thanks to your praise.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

Returning the grin, you realized that you should give your friend some breathing room and climbed off to lay next to him, a tingle still present in your toes.

“So what have we learned today?”

Seokmin puckered his lips as he looked up in thought.

“I learned that my nose is big, but there’s nothing wrong with it.”

“Uh huh.”

“Um…that I can use it when I’m eating someone out.”

Your lips tilted.

“Go on.”

A melodic hum came as he continued to rack his brain.

“Mm…oh! How could I forget the most important one?”

You watched as his head turned to fixate you with a sweet grin.

“If I’m ever feeling insecure about anything, I can come to you for help.”

His answer made you smile wide, heart warming at how at ease he seemed to be now. Granted, you never expected to sit on his face, but if it made him feel better, you’d do it a hundred times over.

“Anything for you, ‘Min.”

©bangtanintotheroom, 2024. Crossposted to AO3. Do not repost to other sites or copy without permission.

[headkiss]

hello! a summer request for my sweet hotch, maybe him taking care of reader's allergies or a cute picnic date (jack included)

hope you have a lovely day sweetheart 🩷

hiii tysm for your request!! hope you’re having a lovely day too angel 🫶 so sorry it’s not summer anymore but hopefully you still enjoy! | 0.8k words of fluff!!

Aaron is not known to take many days off, but summer seems to get him out of the office more than any other season. Even more so ever since he met you.

More again as soon as he introduced you to Jack, to the most important person in his life. Jack liked you immediately, and he never stops asking when he’ll see you next. Though there’s a void left behind by Haley that will never quite be filled, you all know it, but your presence in both of the Hotchner’s lives has brightened them in ways Aaron doesn’t think you could understand.

It’s why, today, he’s taken the day off on purpose. He’d even gone as far as to tell the team not to call him unless absolutely necessary. He trusts them, and they bug him to take breaks more than anyone, anyways.

There’s a classic red and white gingham blanket spread beneath you on the grass, the sun bright in the sky and saturating the park around you.

Aaron’s barely unpacked the snacks before Jack is jumping up and asking his dad for permission to go play.

“Only where I can see you,” Hotch says, “okay, buddy?”

“I know, dad!” Jack’s already running off before you can even tell him to have fun.

Aaron watches his son go, squinting in the sun, keeping an eye on Jack until he’s made it to a small group of other kids by the slide before turning back to you.

You’re scrunching your nose and rubbing at your eyes when he does, and Aaron frowns a little when you sniffle.

Always far too observant, he tilts his head at you and asks, “You okay, honey?”

You nod, because you really are.

You’ve had allergies for most of your life, you think, so it’s nothing to worry about. It’s just annoying. You’d woken up and could already tell it was a bad day for them, less air passing through your nose, your eyes itchy.

But days like these—the ones with Aaron and Jack and beautiful weather and nobody working—are rare, and you’d never be caught giving up time with your people just because of some allergies.

“I’m fine, just my allergies.” You smile at him and grab a nacho from the spread, dipping it into the layered salsa from the grocery store and popping it into your mouth.

“Why didn’t you tell me they were acting up?” Hotch asks, thumb wiping a bit of salsa from the corner of your mouth gently without a thought. Sweet and subconscious.

“Because you would’ve made me stay in bed and bring me soup like it was the flu,” you say, knee bumping his. “I’m out of meds, but I didn’t wanna miss this. Jack was so excited and I was, too. I love being with you guys.”

And fuck, Aaron’s heart squeezes in his chest at the way you speak so fondly about him and Jack, like they’re your own family. At how you’re willing to be uncomfortable just to keep plans intact.

He trails a knuckle down your bare arm, all the way down until he catches your hand and gives it a squeeze. “We don’t have to stay long.”

“I know,” you scoot closer and drop your head against his shoulder.

It’s only twenty minutes later, and after many sneezes (and ‘bless you’s from Aaron), he’s packing up the picnic and not letting you argue it. Your eyes are reddened and watery, and he can hear how stuffy your nose is by your voice, and he doesn’t want you to feel worse.

And maybe he likes the idea of getting to take care of you over something small like this. How domestic it is.

“Alright, let’s go home, yeah?” Aaron pats your thigh softly. “I know you wanted to tough it out, but i can tell it’s bugging you. There’s a pharmacy down the street, we’ll stop for meds.”

There’s no sense fighting him when your allergies are bugging you, when he’s so stubborn with his plans, with how kind the tone of his voice is.

“Okay. Maybe we can watch a movie when we get back? Jack can pick since we’re making him leave early.”

“You sure?” Aaron raises his eyebrows. “He’s gonna make us watch Big Hero 6 for the hundredth time, you know?”

“I know that you secretly love that movie.”

“That wore off at the tenth watch, honey.”

You laugh, then sneeze, and Aaron shakes his head at you fondly before calling Jack back over and promising to buy him a candy bar at the pharmacy for cutting his game short.

The candy bar is long gone by the time you’re all settled on the Hotchner’s couch to watch Big Hero 6 again, and you and Aaron share a secret smile when Jack announces it as his pick.

[cookiecakecookie-cake]

Some food for thought on Self Aware AUs

cws: psychological horror elements, existentialism, ddlc mention and some use of machine lingo. this is mainly focused towards cookie run self aware aus, but this could apply to any fandom, really.

thinking about how horrifying a self aware au would be, strictly speaking. like, no magic, no multiversal shenanigans, just "these are characters INSIDE A GAME that become aware of the fact that they're in a game." of course you kinda have to take some liberties, but what would they be able to do, realistically? i understand the appeal of the idea, but i feel people take way more liberties than what would actually happen.

i mean, their options are extremely limited. you would think "well, why can't they just change their code?" but in effect, that'd be like trying to perform surgery on yourself while you're still awake.

speaking as a programmer, it's nearly impossible to edit anything inside of a program while it's running. you HAVE to shut it off before making ANY change. there are some cases where you can edit a program while its running, but you would be unable to see the effects until you reboot the software, and there's a good chance that any half-baked edits may cause a game breaking bug. they're insanely common in just small programs, god forbid a whole-ass game.

the best case for being able to make a significant change while a game is running would be using console commands/dev tools. you know that black box monika pulls up whenever she deletes a character? that's what i'm talking about. she can't change or add anything significantly new to the game, but a console? a console is completely different.

while trying to edit code while a program is running is, again, practically impossible, accessing console commands is a whole different ballpark. a game like crk has to have a console, they're basically mandatory to make any bug-testing actually feasible. the only drawback is that you're limited to the actual commands available, which is probably just simple stuff. there's also a good chance that a dev tool like that would be removed from the public releases of the game.

stuff like this probably means that only cookies who already have some programming experience under their belt would be the ones able to do anything significant. cookies like strawberry crepe, clotted cream, and mozzarella (or the cheese empire cookies in general) probably have the most power here. i could also see black sapphire or butter roll having some knowledge on this end too, but they probably have more experience on the hardware end, rather than the software end.

meanwhile the beasts and ancients (minus golden cheese) have to squint at the screen old man style wondering what the fuck those youngins are doing.

that leaves us with the topic of the player. i mean, we all know that the player must be a godlike figure to them, but they can't really learn anything about them asides from how they interact with the world. again: anything they aren't already programmed to do would be basically impossible to achieve, so no checking the camera or looking up browser history. (and thank fuck for that too, i do NOT need a bunch of cookies seeing the shit ive searched up.)

they probably do what they can to make things easier for you, to keep you engaged, without scaring you off. a couple more materials and soulstones here and there, cutting down the timers on a couple things, sending you more notifications than usual (or even turning your notifications ON if you previously had them off.) to have more and more of your attention.

most of the cookies probably have mixed feelings about some sort of god having such an effect on their lives, but even then, you don't have as much of an effect as they think. you don't control the story. their fate is left up to the whims of faceless gods who only wish to use their likenesses as a motive to make more profit for themselves. they're entertainment. they're money. and the player is just another consumer, indulging on what is in front of them.

some of them want to be mad, but they can't. it's not like they know why they were designed this way. shadow milk especially hates your guts, but that's only because that means there's someone more powerful than him. he's the one most likely to try to do something, anything, to finally be able to one-up their oh-so wonderful and powerful god, but inadvertently breaks things beyond repair.

i'm not saying that the way self-aware aus are done right now are BAD, but i do think some people are missing their true potential. i hope that people see this and get inspired to write something beautifully horrifying, just for fun.

[lightseoul]

CHAPTER 6 | ALL OUT OF LUCK

w.c. 4.8k

tags. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (26), lots of cussing, some minor timeskip manga spoilers, mentions of adult themes (e.g., sex), this chapter is pretty light-hearted imo, the calm before the storm or so they say, buckle up for the ending!!!

a/n. we're 2/3 of the way, y'all! as the series nears its end, i'd love to hear about what reading it has been like for you! my replies, reblogs, and asks are always open <3 i hope you enjoy this chapter—it was a blast to write!

links. masterlist, ao3

The sound of wind chimes echoes throughout the crowded room, albeit slightly drowned out by the busy chatter of customers and waiters alike, coupled with the clanging noises emanating from what you think is the kitchen. Still, you’re quick to glance at the entrance when the ringing eventually reaches your ears.

Equal parts disappointment and relief flood through you when you catch sight of two people walking in who are decidedly not the guests of the hour.

“Nervous?” comes a sudden, low voice at your right.

You turn to look at the source, and what greets you is a Bakugou with an inexplicable expression on his face. You feel your eyebrows furrow ever so minutely—and you forgive yourself for it, because what the hell are you supposed to reply to that?

Acutely aware of the bug stuck firmly against your chest, though, you scramble for a natural response.

And really, what would be more natural than the truth?

“Would it be weird if I told you I am?”

You weren’t trying to be funny with that quip, but apparently Bakugou finds it humorous, because he chuckles before shaking his head. “Nah.”

He doesn’t expound much after that, to your chagrin. You shrug it off, though, opting to soothe yourself instead. The last thing you need is to seem frazzled—even if you are—not when you’re fully cognizant of Hiroto’s unassuming presence a few tables across from you.

Well, as far as a baseball cap, sunglasses indoors, and a flimsy mustache pass up for unassuming.

Another attempt of yours at a hasty glimpse at the door gets interrupted when Bakugou stretches out his left arm to check his sports watch. You manage to take a peek and see that it’s 11:21 AM. According to the man beside you, they didn’t agree to meet until half past eleven, but you’re here early, just as you planned the night before.

Needless to say, Masaki was understandably skeptical.

“And here I thought you’d know better than to easily believe chatter, Bakugou,” replied the leader when the pro-hero elaborated on his proposal.

“And here I thought you’d know better than to underestimate the word of mouth,” came Bakugou’s impatient response. “If there’s anything I learned working in the field, it’s that that sort of thing shouldn’t be taken lightly.”

“Rumors can escalate, especially if they’re as intriguing as the ones circulating about us. Besides,” he added, “We could use some fucking fresh air. Why don’t you try being cooped up for more than two weeks, hah?”

Masaki didn’t take the bait and counter with another wisecrack, evidently troubled by the newfound information and the fact that Bakugou was making sense. However, despite the ash-blonde’s persuasive argument, the man turned you down and sent you back to your activities after a moment’s consideration.

You went through the day masking as much as you could despite the defeat weighing down your steps, entirely convinced that you lost your one chance at informing the outside world about the plans of attack. Bakugou was extra cranky, too, blowing up all the targets in quirk training and leaving nothing but a pile of ashes for the rest of the members.

You were about to grab your pillow and duvet cover from the bed to make the nightly transfer when a series of knocks resounded from your room’s door. From where he was lounging on the mattress, Bakugou eyed you, and you took that as your cue to get up and figure out who the fuck was going to make your already shitty day even shittier.

It didn’t surprise you to find a stoic Hiroto on the other side, but what did surprise you was what he’d say next.

“He said you could go,” he started, seeming pained, as if it hurt him to say that. “On one condition.”

“What is it?” you asked, hopefulness rekindling, just as you heard Bakugou sit up behind you.

“I tail the both of you.”

Which leads you to the present, seated in a large booth beside Bakugou in one of his favorite katsu restaurants, with a disguised twin watching the two of you like a hawk, waiting.

And if you really think about it, you’re quite lucky things turned out this way—with Bakugou’s words of warning getting to this damned organization’s leader, even if you are being tailed—because otherwise, you wouldn’t be having this golden opportunity to communicate with the rest of the—

“Kacchan!”

You whip to look at the entrance—startled—and sure enough, standing by the glass doors are four people who you could recognize from a mile away.

Pro-heroes Chargebolt, Red Riot, Pinky, and Cellophane.

They’re all smiles as they march through the tables, as if their big introduction wasn’t enough, and normally you’d be sinking in your seat in embarrassment at how loud and flashy your companions are being. But for once, you’re actually thankful they are this way, reminding yourself that you’re not only here to pass a message.

No, you’re here to make a scene.

You stand up out of courtesy as the four arrive at the booth Bakugou selected when you arrived roughly thirty minutes earlier—positioned conveniently smack dab in the middle of the restaurant. Bakugou gingerly follows suit.

“Kacchan!” Chargebolt—Kaminari—repeats, flashing the man a toothy grin, before bringing in him for a hug, which the latter begrudgingly accepts.

“It’s been too long, bro!” the electric hero quips as they pull apart, his gaze then drifting to you, a playful glint in his eyes. “And who do we have here?”

“Don’t make her feel embarrassed, Denks,” comes a good-natured voice from beside him, and you shift to look at the man speaking. Kirishima—Red Riot—tosses you an apologetic smile, reaching out a hand for you to shake. “I’m Eijirou, one of Bakubro’s closest friends. It’s great to finally meet you, …?”

“Y/N,” you supply, smiling back at him as you shake his hand. “It’s an honor to meet you guys.”

“Bakugou’s finally got a girlfriend, huh?” Cellophane—Sero—who’s standing tall behind the redhead—comments, a teasing smirk plastered on his face.

“Watch it,” Bakugou warns from beside you, although it doesn’t have much bite to it.

“And she’s really pretty, too!” pipes up Pinky—Mina—who elbows Kaminari to the side to pull you into a hug, which you readily return. Not knowing what to say, you only laugh, shooting her a grateful look when you let go of each other.

“Thank you for coming out here despite the last-minute invite,” you offer, feeling a tad bit self-conscious. Still, you press on, gesturing towards the seats. “Please, sit down.”

A chorus of ‘Sure’s’ and ‘Thanks’ erupts from the group as they settle in, with Mina, Kaminari, and Sero sitting across you and Kirishima piling in your booth, situating himself beside Bakugou. As they do so, you take the opportunity to quickly scan the restaurant, and sure enough, virtually everyone has paused their respective conversations to look at what’s going on at your table, curious expressions etched on their faces.

“So,” Kirishima starts, leaning into the table to peer at you. “How does it feel to be the cause of Bakugou’s downfall as Japan’s hottest bachelor?”

You splutter, caught off guard by the question, but Bakugou comes to your rescue by punching the ridiculously buff man in the arm.

The latter only barks out a laugh.

“Shut it, shitty hair.”

“Alright, alright,” Kirishima huffs out, chuckling. “You can choose not to answer that. But y’all have to tell us how you met, though.”

At that, Mina squeals, like she just got reminded of that juicy opening. “Yes, please! We made a bet on the way here. Sero’s convinced you’re a paid actress, but I say you had an adorable meet-cute, like at the grocery or something!”

“The fuck?” Bakugou says just as you snort.

“Wait—” Sero straightens up in his seat, completely ignoring the ash-blonde. “What was that snort for? I’m right, aren’t I?”

“You better fucking watch yourself, you—”

“Sorry, Sero,” you manage to get out, pulling a lie out of your ass just in time. “But Mina’s right.”

Said girl fist pumps the air while Sero visibly deflates. You feel Bakugou’s eyes trained on the side of your face.

“We met on the airplane,” you continue when nobody says a thing. “We were seatmates, he was reading a book that I loved, and we just hit it off from there.”

“Seriously?” Kaminari cries out, thankfully catching everyone’s attention from your definitely-not-just-made-up story. “It couldn’t have been that easy.”

You shrug, not really knowing how to respond to that, but gratefully you don’t have to because Bakugou chimes in.

“To you,” he taunts, before: “And what’re you complaining about? Aren’t you planning to ask Ears out?”

“Don’t—” Kaminari begins, before ultimately sighing in surrender, mouth formed into a pout. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“There, there,” Sero pats the blonde’s back, although he’s looking far from sympathetic. “Time and place for everything, bro. Now’s not the time for you, though.”

“I knew it!” Mina sing-songs, crushing your dreams of having successfully closed the ‘how did you meet’ chapter of this conversation. Still, you try not to let the dread show on your features.

“What drew you towards him, Y/N?” the acid hero furthers. “On that day at the plane.”

“What…drew me towards him?” you lamely parrot.

“Yeah!” she laughs. “You know, did you think he was cute? Did he smell good? Was he being a gentleman?”

“Do we really have to know all these?” Sero complains.

Mina looks away from you to regard the ebony-haired man, a playful frown decorating her pink face. “Now you’re just being a sore loser, Sero.”

You gulp, taking the short window of reprieve to think about what to say. How does one even come up with an acceptable answer? You chance a glance at Bakugou, and you try not to appear shocked when you find him already looking at you.

Well.

You swore you’d never walk through memory lane, at least the painfully humiliating one concerning Bakugou throughout the course of this mission, but it seems like current affairs call for old data.

And so you dig through the past for a response.

“I—uh…” you start, before trying again. “Well, just as you said, I found him attractive. Physically. But also, with the way he just carried himself. He was very into the, uh, book, and I found it endearing.”

To that, Mina drawls out a long ‘aww’ but gets interrupted by Kirishima, who leans forward again to look past Bakugou and right at you. “But he wasn’t a stranger to you, was he?”

“No, we—”

“Of course, not,” Kaminari cuts you off, “Kacchan here’s crazy popular. Ever since UA, remember?”

“Uh, no, actually…” you trail off, and everybody turns to look at you, questioning.

You take a deep breath.

“I’m actually from UA, too. But from the Gen Ed track. I was your…batchmate.”

“No way.”

“Seriously?”

“Why haven’t I heard of you?”

“I knew you seemed familiar,” the redhead proclaims, his booming voice overwhelming the rest. You shift to face him, shocked.

He beams at you. “You have that interesting quirk. What was it? I think it was luck—”

You gape at him. “Right.”

That causes him to grin wider. “Yeah! I remember Midoriya rambling about how unique your quirk was and how it had so much potential during our graduation ceremony.”

You only gawk at him just as Bakugou stirs in his seat. You steal a glimpse at the man, who, if you didn’t know any better, is looking miffed, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, you take the chance to smile at Kirishima, gratitude blooming in your chest at being remembered.

“Now I feel like shit for not recognizing you, babe,” Mina laments.

You shake your head. “No offense taken, Mina.”

“Still! I should’ve—”

“But wait,” Kaminari interjects, features morphed into an uncharacteristically serious expression. “If you found Kacchan attractive just by first impressions alone, wouldn’t that mean you would’ve had a crush on him back in UA?”

You blink.

Fuuuu—

“Quit spitting nonsense, dunce face,” Bakugou spews out of nowhere, stunning you into a lull and shutting everyone up.

“That’s faulty ass logic,” he finishes without further explication.

Silence.

“…I guess so,” replies the electric hero after a beat, sounding just as bewildered as you are.

But then Mina claps her hands together, and suddenly the tension dissipates. “Enough about the past, you guys! How about now, Y/N? What do you like about Bakugou here?”

“What are you, my old hag?” Bakugou swiftly retorts. “Quit fucking proddin—”

“We’re just curious, bro,” comes Kirishima’s easygoing reply. “We’re happy for you, and we’re keen on the details.”

“…Fine.”

You were about to whip to look at Bakugou, surprised at how easily he relented and all the while unceremoniously threw you under the bus, but you’re able to stop yourself from doing so in the nick of time.

Instead, you turn to look at his friends, who are all staring at you expectantly.

Jesus.

Here goes nothing, then.

“He cares…a lot,” you start, voice wobbly. “But I’m sure you guys knew that already. And, he’s very protective of me.”

“I feel safe and comfortable around him. Plus,” you pause, a chuckle unexpectedly bubbling in your throat. “He’s funny. I mean, he swears to god he doesn’t snore but he—”

“Wait, wait, wait—hold up.”

You freeze, and one look at Kaminari’s face is enough to let you know you fucked up.

Pro-hero Chargebolt grins at you. “You mean you sleep together?”

Shit.

You wouldn’t be lying if you said yes, would you?

Not that you can say no.

And so as you purse your lips, you nod.

“…Yeah.”

At that, and in a blink of an eye, the group erupts into a fit of cheers and shouting but Kaminari’s cry is the one that emerges on top of it all as he stands up.

“Kacchan’s finally getting some!” he practically announces to the entirety of the restaurant, before turning to the man in question, his arm raised. “Give me five, bro!”

Unsurprisingly, Bakugou only glares at him, seething. “Quit fucking talking about my sex life, you dipshit.”

“Not until you return my hi-five!”

“Fucking—”

You watch the two as they have a staredown, but only a few seconds in you can already tell Kaminari is nowhere near backing down. Bakugou must’ve noticed that, too, because a beat later, he averts his gaze—not before rolling his eyes—and acrimoniously slaps the former’s palm.

“Enough about us, though, right?” you assert—desperate to get the spotlight away from you and your fake relationship—just as Kaminari seats himself with a big, proud grin on his face. “What about you guys? What have you been up to?”

To your relief, Mina enthusiastically takes the lure and begins chatting up a storm. You listen with genuine interest as she goes on about starting her own agency and rising to 17th from 28th last year. Kirishima adds to the narrative by divulging how he’s since taken in a fresh UA graduate as a sidekick as per Midoriya’s recommendation. Eventually, you find yourself slowly relaxing as he continues, drawing parallels between his experience with Fat Gum and now being the main hero himself at 9th place in the HBJ.

You try asking Kaminari about how his agency is going, but no matter how he starts his storytelling, it always drifts back to the fact that his building is next to Jirou’s, which unfailingly goes to how it’s going with him and the Hearing hero.

“What did I tell you, bro?” Sero chastises him when Kaminari starts waxing poetic about the musician slash hero. “We’re here to celebrate the happy couple. Don’t go raining on their parade.”

“No—really, it’s oka—”

“I have to go to the restroom!” Mina throws in abruptly and as a matter of factly, completely disregarding the previous topic, before shifting to face you. “Care to join me, Y/N?”

Now, as much as you want to escape from the group and take a breather, you still find yourself hesitating at the invitation, although you manage not to shoot Bakugou a look lest you cause suspicion.

You talked about this—last night—how you’d secretly transmit the details of the attack to any of the four. Your plan requires you to be at the scene, prepared to use your quirk on anyone at any time if necessary, but even you can’t deny that it’d be odd if you declined Mina’s offer.

Girl code and all.

Sero must think the same, too, because the man comes up with an irritatingly badgering remark. “What, can’t bear to be away from Bakugou for even a second?”

“Sheesh,” Kaminari piles on while the rest aside from Bakugou—who’s turning red from what you’re sure is displeasure—snicker among themselves.

“Ha ha, very funny, Sero,” you laugh in an attempt to play it off, ultimately deciding to get up as Mina does the same thing from across you.

And you’re about to leave it at that and follow Mina to the girls’ restroom, but you’re stopped by your gut—and an inkling that Hiroto is closely watching the exchange.

Before you can even think twice about what you’re about to do, you spin on your heel and lean down and into Bakugou.

You barely register him shortcircuiting at the sudden proximity, too caught up in your own audacity, as you clench your eyes closed and hastily plant a chaste kiss on his absurdly soft lips.

And just as quickly as you invaded his space, you pull away, mouthing a soft ‘Be right back’ before once again spinning on your heels and starting the trek to the comfort room, willing yourself to ignore the hooting and whistling behind you.

Mina jogs after you, grinning when she catches up and offers you a low-five.

You return it.

“Atta girl.”

“I love your makeup, by the way,” Mina comments as she emerges from a stall behind you, while you wash your hands in one of the sinks.

“And your outfit, too,” she adds, and before you can say anything back: “Do you always look like this?”

You’re not about to tell her you usually look like you just rolled out of bed but are in the middle of a somewhat life-or-death mission hence the constantly put-together look, and so you just shrug sheepishly.

“Uh, I just try to look presentable, you know?”

“Girl, you look more than just presentable.”

You shoot her a thankful smile. “Thanks, Mina.”

That causes her to brighten up. “Don’t mention it! Though, you mind telling me what lip combo you’re wearing?”

Now you’re anything but a gatekeeper when it comes to beauty and your girlfriends, so you tell her. She promptly notes it down on her phone with the signature active-listening nod, thanking you when you finish answering her follow-up questions.

“Great! Now I have another excuse to go shopping.”

You laugh, moving to throw the tissue you used to dry your hands with and head out when she reaches for your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

You turn to face her, eyebrows raised in question.

She beams at you.

“I’m really happy for the both of you, you know?”

You stammer, but Mina goes on—releasing her grip on you—before you can think about something to say back.

“You do know that you’re his first girlfriend, right?”

You did not know that.

You don’t let her know.

“You see, he’s always been popular with girls, especially ever since the end of the Great War. He really doesn’t know how to go about them, though. You’re the first one to really tame him like this.”

You can’t help it—you snort at her word choice. She snickers.

“Thanks, but I really don’t think there’s much to—”

“Girl,” Mina cuts you off, “Have you seen the way he looks at you?”

You gulp. There’s absolutely no need for you to know about this, let alone be fed with delusion-fueling lies. Still, you can’t find it in you not to ask. “What about it?”

She giggles. “You really need me to spell it out? His gaze has always been intense but I don’t know—they seem extra piercing when he’s looking at you. And, he looks at you more than you think he does. Believe me, I’ve been studying him ever since we walked into this restaurant.”

Nah.

You wave her off as nicely as you can. “You’re too kind, Mina.”

And she really is, so much so that you’re actually feeling guilty over putting this whole act in front of them. The girl is just trying to hype you up, while you’re here flat-out lying to her face.

“Whatever,” she waves you off, and you’re just about to think the conversation’s finally over when, once again, she continues, a mischievous look on her face.

“About what Kaminari said, though—I know stuff was implied and forgive me—but I just have to ask. I promise this’ll stay between us, but…”

Oh, no.

“…Have you done it yet?”

You choke on your spit.

“Sorry! Sorry,” she talks over you, patting your back as you cough your lungs out. By the time you’ve gathered your bearings, she’s smiling at you guiltily, though something tells you she’s still waiting for an answer.

“Well?”

There you go.

And really, what’s left for you to do than confirm her suspicions? Especially after you quite literally choked like that?

You nod your head slowly, and she squeals.

Great, you think to yourself. Now Pro-hero Pinky, one of your great role models, thinks you’ve fucked one of her closest friends.

You try to console yourself by saying at least the rest of the Quirk Coalition is hearing this and probably getting more and more convinced about your sham relationship.

Copium, right?

“I swear, this secret stays with me, bestie!” Mina reassures you excitedly. “Just make sure y’all stay safe, okay?”

“O-of course, yes.”

“Great. Let’s head out, yeah?”

By the time you return to your table, some of the food’s already been served—everyone’s except Mina’s and Kaminari’s. You got so caught up in dealing with the rocks they threw at you mid-conversation and in managing being with Mina that you completely forgot about ordering food.

“Wait—I didn’t—” you sputter as Bakugou and Kirishima step aside to let you squeeze into the booth, following suit and sitting beside you once you’re in.

“You two were taking too long,” explains Kirishima. “Bakugou went ahead and ordered something for you, as well as Mina’s go-to dish.”

“Yay!” Mina claps, “Thanks, Bakugou!”

“Thanks…babe,” you say quietly, eyeing the ebi tempura katsu he got you.

“No problem,” comes his curt response.

Thankfully, no one comments on the fact that you just called Bakugou a pet name, distracted by the waiter serving the remaining food. Amidst the increasingly rare quiet, you look down at your own plate, before sneaking a glance at the ash-blonde’s beside you.

You didn’t notice you were already staring at his bowl of chicken curry when his deep, low voice rips you out of your stupor.

He eyes you. “You want mine?”

You quickly shake your head. “No, I’m good with the tempura.”

And, as if to prove your point, you pick one up with your chopsticks and bring it to your mouth, taking a small bite. You smile at him, “See?”

Bakugou studies you for a beat longer with his eyebrows furrowed, before he picks up his set of chopsticks and steals away your piece of shrimp.

“Hey—”

You don’t get to have a word in before he devours the tempura in one bite, nor when he swiftly switches your trays between the two of you.

“Bakugou—”

“Damn,” quips Kaminari, catching your attention. You quickly realize that everyone else is gawking at the both of you, too stunned to speak.

The vibrant blonde points to what’s become your dish of curry with his chopsticks. “He’s never done that for any of us before.”

“Yeah,” Sero piles on, eyes wide as saucers. “He loves his hot curry.”

“Bakugou,” you try again, reaching out for your plate, but he gently swats your hands away.

“Just—eat.”

You frown, though you know better than to argue the second time.

“God, I’m stuffed!”

You chuckle as you watch Kaminari rub his belly like a pregnant woman, while Mina and Sero beside him look just as maimed by a particularly debilitating case of food coma—if not more.

“I understand why this is your favorite lunch spot,” you offer, “The food’s amazing.”

“Right?” retorts Kaminari. “We used to go here a lot when we were still—”

“Excuse me,” the waiter—having seemingly emerged from thin air—cuts off the blonde, who instantly shrinks in himself at being interrupted. “Here’s your receipt, sir.”

Kirishima accepts the bill and reaches into his pocket for his wallet, but Bakugou’s quick to snatch the leather pad away from him.

You straighten up just as the rest of the squad burst into a series of coos, teasing you about how cool your #2 pro-hero of a boyfriend is.

A remark that they instantly take back when said boyfriend busts out a pen, seemingly to help him double-check the bill and fill up the customer feedback form that was distributed during the middle of your meal.

You know better, though.

You barely catch the side eye Bakugou gives you, but you do, and you immediately ready yourself to use your quirk.

You try not to seem too interested in what he’s jotting down as he hastily scribbles on the form, opting to look at the three in front of you instead.

Almost instantaneously, you realize it’s a mistake.

“What’re you two planning on doing after this, Y/N?” asks Mina.

“We—uh—”

“Do you already have something planned?” interjects Sero, “Because if not, there’s this new place that I recommend you—”

“Actually,” you glance at Bakugou, but you don’t get to look at the paper before you return to face them. “I have—”

“What do you guys mean?” whines Kaminari, “Aren’t we still hanging out after this?”

You were just about to spew a dismissive remark when you feel something kick your shin, and you whip to look at Bakugou, but he’s not turned towards you. Instead, he’s facing down onto the piece of scrap, blocking everyone’s view of it while tapping on it with a pen.

Your eyes trail the length of the tool, and right at the tip of it is the word NOW, encased in a circle.

You didn’t need to be told twice.

Bakugou must’ve noticed you getting the signal because he then moves to pat Kirishima on the shoulder, and as he does so, you look up to discreetly search for Hiroto amidst the crowd, spotting him in an instant.

You can’t say for sure, but you’re pretty certain he’s looking straight at you judging by the way his body’s oriented toward your table.

Either way, it’s not like you have the luxury of hesitation.

Once you believe you’ve locked eyes, that’s when you pull.

Hard.

Harder than the last two times.

Acute wariness into boundless relaxation.

And you see it—the way his frame instantly slouches from the tense stance it was just in. He even reaches down in what you think is an attempt to check if his shoelaces were untied, and you grab the opportunity and immediately turn to check on Kirishima.

His face is evidently contorted in confusion when your gaze lands on him, and a surge of panic shoots through you at the sight of it. You think Bakugou must be feeling the same way, but you don’t dare waste a millisecond to verify.

Instead, you call out the redhead’s name, to which he responds by looking at you.

Once again, you pull.

This time, palpable bewilderment into laser-sharp focus.

And just like you did with Hiroto, you watch as Kirishima’s features shift into that of a harmless boy next door to the #8 pro-hero Red Riot, before he calmly takes the piece of paper Bakugou slid across the table and pockets it.

Once you’ve made sure that the message is safely secured in Kirishima’s jean pocket, you risk a quick glance back at Hiroto, who’s only now stretching back up from checking his shoes.

It then dawns on you.

You did it.

And not only that, you managed to make a scene.

That is, if you were to go by the distinct camera shutters that’d been going off the moment you entered the restaurant with Bakugou Katsuki.

The Bakugou Katsuki you’re definitely not falling for again.

˖⁺‧₊ 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!

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[idleoblivion]

"Hey Man I Love You, But No Fucking Way" Jamil Viper x GN Reader

Synopsis: The time has finally come for you to leave, but he isn't ready to lose you. Surely you'll hear him out, right?

Word count: ~900

A/N: I usually prefer fluff but thought I'd experiment with a little angst, though I don't think it's too intense. Never written any kind of yandere stuff before so sorry if it's tame.

Warnings: angst, yandere Jamil

This day was bound to come. He knew it, you knew it, everyone did. That didn’t make it any easier for him, though. 

He knew you had started bugging Crowley harder about going home after the second overblot. And harder again after the third, then his, and so on. He wanted to meddle, but Kalim kept him busy. Plus, his faith in Crowley was so low he thought he’d have more time. Time to win you over, time to convince you that your place was with him. And he had made progress, you two had become very close despite what went down in Scarabia over the holiday. But the time for you to go had come regardless. 

He knew you had people you missed and places you still wanted to see. He knew that at the end of the day, no matter how much he’d grown to like your presence, you were not meant to be in Twisted Wonderland. 

But he still held onto that naive hope he had that you would hear him out tonight. Perhaps too tightly.

“You know how much you mean to me, don’t you?”

“I do.” You answer almost emotionlessly.

“Then… then please-” “Don’t ask me what you’re about to ask me. Don’t do that.”

He should’ve stopped there, but he couldn’t. If there was any chance of you staying with him, he had to fight for it. So he kept going.

“Please… you don’t know what my life was like before you. Please don’t leave me like this.”

You don’t say anything back. He could already feel himself unraveling, but tried to hold it together the best he could. 

“You’re the only person I can be myself around. You’re the only person who I can show what I’m actually capable of, the only-” “Jamil, you need to stop this. Now.”

“I love you.” He admits with desperation. “I love you, please, you can’t leave me like this. I’ll never…” he trails off, holding back tears.

“I love you too, Jamil…” You sigh deeply.

“Just not enough to stay?” He snaps without thinking. The look on your face immediately tells him that was the wrong thing to say. “How fucking dare you? You think you’re the only person I’m allowed to care about? I have people that I miss, Jamil. That I’ve been missing. I had a life before this school, sorry that hurts your feelings so badly.” He hadn’t expected you to get so angry with him. 

“I didn’t mean-” “I had a life. A life without magic and overblots. Where I didn’t spend every waking moment waiting for something else bad to happen. Where people didn’t want to fight me just for existing, and I wasn’t almost constantly in some kind of trouble or danger.” You’re crying now too, and you turn your back to him as you continue. “I can’t do it. I can’t stay. There’s nothing good for me here.” “What…what can I do? There’s has to be something I can do-” “No, there isn’t. I’m leaving tomorrow and that’s that. Stop making this harder than it needs to be.”

“I…I told you, I love you!” “And I told you I love you, but I can’t do this for you!” You wipe your face as you turn to face him again. “You think I’m happy about leaving you? Of course I’m not! But I’m not going to suffer here for your sake. I have to do this, for me. Why can’t you understand that?!”

And in that moment, he finally did understand. You didn’t want to hurt him. You weren’t trying to, you just needed to look out for yourself. He couldn’t blame you for that. You said you loved him, and he believed you. He watches you sniffle in front of him and put your face in your hands. He feels remorse for how this world has treated you, and guilt for not getting what you really meant at first. Yes, he understands perfectly. 

It was the rest of the world that was the problem. You could be happy in Twisted Wonderland, you just didn’t know it. With Crowley and overblots and other stress always wearing you down, of course you didn’t think you could stay. If you were constantly hurting, how could he expect you to?

But, why hadn’t you just said that from the start? If you knew how much you meant to him, didn’t you also know just how far he’d go for you? The mountains he would make move? The people he’d dispose of? Wouldn’t you do the same for him?

Of course, you would never have to do the same for him. He would do everything, take care of everything. Nothing would keep you two from each other. All you had to do was be with him and be happy. He could make that happen, he was sure of it.

He decides that those kinds of plans don’t matter right now, though. What matters most is that you’re about to make the biggest mistake of your life, and he isn’t going to let you.

“Look at me.” “Jamil, I’m done with this. I-”

“I get that, okay? Just…please, look at me one more time.” He was pleading, and his voice sounded so terribly dejected. You sigh again. You lift your head up from your hands and meet his eyes.

“I told you, I’m sorry. I really am. I-” “Snake Whisper. Follow me. You’re not going through that mirror.”

[riality-check]

ao3 link

Viktor does not have many friends at the Academy, but he is rarely alone. Such is the nature of university life. The academic environment is inherently social; he attends class with other students, eats alongside them, and must frequently bang on his wall so as to alert his neighbors that he can, in fact, hear… whatever activities they decide to do on weeknights. Being alone at the Academy is a difficult feat, and it is one that does not go out of his way to accomplish.

He has learned that surprises some of his classmates. They often remark, when they are paired with him for group projects, about their perceptions of him.

“I thought you’d be meaner.”

“I thought you’d be quieter.”

“I always assumed you were just shy.”

Every time, Viktor must refrain from rolling his eyes. Topside politeness is a strange thing, he has learned. It is very performative, with its big smiles and friendly, useless greetings. He finds it difficult to imitate - why, for example, ask someone “how are you?” if neither they nor him truly care for the answer? - and so he sticks to Undercity standards.

Nod politely as a greeting. Give people space unless they require conversation. Offer a chair or a coat or a snack if someone is in need, with the understanding that the debt will be repaid.

Back home, his parents were often praised for raising such a polite boy. Here, at least once a semester, someone comments on his standoffishness.

It does not matter. He is not here to slack off. He is here to learn. He does not need anything more than the pleasant, occasional company of his classmates, who, he is discovering, will offer their smiles but never their coats.

Every once in a while, he does get more. Someone will stay in his room for a night - they always think they are the ones in charge at the beginning, a fact that Viktor finds equally amusing and irritating - and coo sweet words about his appearance and his intellect.

He is lucky if they look at him the next morning. He learns the hard way that they are perfectly content with a trencher in their bed but never on their arm.

When this finally sinks in - it does not take long; he has always been a quick study - Viktor swallows back whatever odd thing it is that rises in his throat and determines that this attitude suits him perfectly well.

______________________________________________________________

The brace is simple in its concept but difficult to perfect. Considering the amount of time spent constructing his current cane a few semesters ago, Viktor is not surprised. Engineering for biological systems is far more complex than, say, pure mechanical engineering. Pain and discomfort, for example, are complicating factors for his leg bug not for air filtration systems.

Viktor would much rather design air filtration systems than leg braces or canes. They are far more interesting and useful on a larger scale. But the truth of the matter is that he cannot trust anyone else to construct these devices for him. Only he knows how they feel for his body, and the effort he would have to undergo to translate the abstract (but very real) sensations of wrongness, in all their varied forms, into words that another person can understand is not worth it. Not when he can just grab a wrench.

What is that saying? “If you want something done right, do it yourself.”

Story of Viktor’s life.

He sits on his bed, right leg crossed at an uncomfortable height over his left, and tightens a screw. The previous designs are all documented in his notebook, which he flips through using his unoccupied hand. With every problem he eliminates, a new one arises. It is the worst haggling he has ever partaken in.

The brace must be worn underneath his trousers; he will not wrinkle his uniform if he can avoid it. Until recently, this meant that the cold, harsh metal of the brace would chill and bite at his skin. He only had so much salve (fresh unopened tin, left in the communal bathroom for a week with no takers) left, and he intended to save it for injuries that mattered.

He tried once, a few days ago, with a long sock on underneath the brace, but it rolled down so often and so severely that in a fit of exasperation, he nearly cut it off with scissors. Then he remembered that his sewing kit did not have enough black thread to repair that level of damage.

He only had three pairs of socks left, as they had a proclivity for vanishing inexplicably each time he washed his clothes. So, he could not cut it.

This design should, hopefully, “do the trick.” He attached cushioning (A petite girl he had taken a calculus class with, when she woke up the next morning in his room, asked, with a glance at the sewing kit left on his desk, if he could hem a dress for her. She repaid him by purchasing his next meal - real food, finally, not from the university - and letting him keep the scrap. He never saw her again.) to the parts of the brace most uncomfortable to wear.

All the old problems - tension, pressure, weight, bulk - have been resolved. There will only be new ones.

Viktor tightens the last screw. Time to see what those will be.

The brace is multifunctional. Primarily, its design is intended to correct the abnormal inward rotation of his right leg. Secondarily, it supports his knee and ankle to both allow his muscles to stop carrying that burden and prevent the joints from overextending and subluxating, as they often tend to do.

It will be uncomfortable, compelling his leg away from its natural state. But Viktor can live with discomfort if it is in exchange for improvement.

He has been haggling in this manner for his entire life.

With assistance from his cane, he stands. Then, he divides his weight evenly between his two own feet, holding his cane aloft.

There is the discomfort, as he had expected, but there is no pain.

He paces up and down the length of his dorm without his cane. His joints are relegated to a normal range of motion, which is restrictive but more stable. They do not feel as loose. A dull stretch, induced by the rigidity of the brace fighting against his body, along the side of his leg runs from thigh to calf, but that is all.

No other pain. No true pain, other than the dull ache of adjustment.

He nearly falls over with the realization before he catches himself on the wall. He has had days free of pain before, but they occurred far more often when he was a child. Now, they are so few and far between that he had nearly forgotten what it was like to have the distraction of it removed almost entirely. 

He can think more clearly without it whispering talking shouting in his ear. He can breathe more easily.

Walking is awkward, what with the new rotation and the added weight, but he conjectures that he will get acclimated to it. He wants to get acclimated to it.

Outside of his window, he has a nearly unobscured view of the Academy clocktower. It takes him one glance to realize he is very nearly late for his systems course.

In his haste, Viktor nearly forgets to bring his cane with him to class. With how his brace reduces the pain, it is merely a failsafe in the event his balance is compromised by the awkwardness of his gait.

He barely uses it. Once he gets used to the new positioning of his leg, walking is a little easier. Slower, but easier. And the whole time, his cane barely makes contact with the ground.

The whispers are loud as always.

“Did he get better?”

“Has he been faking?”

“I knew someone our age couldn’t actually need it.”

He holds his head up and ignores them. When he catches a look, he returns the stares and wins.

He knows he will never be able to run. He could not when he was a child, and the unfortunate fact that the many non-functioning components of his body will only degrade - a fact he greatly prefers not to dwell on - has prohibited the notion for the rest of his life.

For the first time, he wants to run. So badly, in fact, that it is heart that aches instead of his leg.

He walks into class without the assistance of his cane, with the brace hidden underneath his pant leg, and believes, entirely, that this could work. That maybe he can walk like this, with no outward signal that he is different. Non-functional. Built incorrectly in the compounding of each and every failure inflicted upon the Undercity.

Maybe this is something he can overcome with his intellect. He already crawled up. What is stopping him from walking upright?

What is stopping his brilliant mind from allowing him to run?

He spends all day testing this notion, barely using his cane.

Viktor should have known the haggling would not work entirely in his favor. It never has.

When his body comes to collect, he pays in full. With interest.

The other installments, if you're interested: 1, 2, 3. 5 6.