#i literally found this game at half price at a game stop

[moron-cream]

Small contribution to this game since it's feasting away on my brain

[vicsy]

Had no idea what to pitch so I literally looked up one word prompts and chose the first few. Pick whichever inspires: Daniel x Max + Sunburn/Tease/Emerge/Afternoon/Impulse/Nurture/Rough/Polaroid/Good

maxiel + polaroid, sunburn

"Drink?"

"Nah, I'm good, thanks. Can't stay long. Duty calls!" Daniel makes an exaggerated gesture. Max cracks a smile. He probably follows the pundit stuff Daniel does more than actual racing these days. "Just wanted to pop by since you're back to calling Monaco home. Nice place, mate."

If not for the sim rig installed in an empty guest room that could have been a nursery in a life he brushed aside, nobody would have ever guessed Max lived here. His new apartment was clean, spacious, incredibly faceless. A simple home for a creature of habit Max always was but not quite a home.

"I wanted to go watch the race this weekend," Max admits and pads through the cluttered living room to the adjacent kitchen, straight to the fridge. It's shiny, sophisticated and very empty, except for a monthly supply of Red Bull and yesterday's leftovers. He grabs a can for himself, wishing he had that beer Daniel used to love. "But I am of course happy to see you after, well. Who knows, yeah?"

Couple years, give or take. Max stopped counting after turning thirty-three.

Behind him, Daniel claps his hands together. Max throws a surprised look over his shoulder, blindly rummaging in the fridge. The shine of Daniel's smile hasn't diminished over the years, but the crow's feet around his eyes, Max discovers, are more prominent than he remembers. He wonders if Daniel notices the little changes about him, too; if he cares for them at all. Max does.

"Oh, congrats on your team winning, uh, another virtual racing thingy," he delivers the line with that old, addictive enthusiasm and, to Max, it's a gut punch. He schools his face, a lump forming in his throat. Daniel gives him a thumbs up, turns around and walks along the empty shelves attached to the TV wall. The lack of decor there makes it look kind of pathetic. Max had only managed to put two of his WEC trophies on display, a helmet he wore for the last race and a nice-looking box of assorted knick-knacks dear to his memory. "Any plans to decimate Le Mans this year, Mr Three Time champ?"

"Fernando is busy with Dakar, so probably I'll skip it. Oscar texted me about doing it next year together, so," Daniel's back is facing him still. Max closes the fridge and opens the Red Bull can, places it on the kitchen counter. Stares at it for a second or two. Then, out of a long-forgotten habit, Max goes for a poorly planned half-joke. "Didn't know you started watching iRacing in your old age. Quick, what's a livestream?"

It's a desperate attempt to even the gap between now and before. Daniel flips him a bird without looking, too occupied with whatever he found on Max's sad little shelves.

"Har, har, fucker. I mean, I gotta keep myself in the game, everything is changing, like, a lot. And, come on, it's you–" he stops talking. Max takes a sip from the can, watching Daniel finally face him. "Huh. Didn't know you still have these."

Max has gone lengths without having to experience a solid enough crash and the debilitating aftermath reverberating through his body. In the sun-flooded apartment, on the freshly turned page, it catches up to Max as abruptly as a rainstorm in the summer.

Forty-three year old Daniel is standing in his unfurnished living room, a splotch of color among the backdrop of generic white paint and a mount of unpacked boxes. Forty-three year old Daniel, with a sprinkle of salt in his hair and a tan line on the ring finger of his left hand, looks at Max like he's a ghost from the past, like it's him who just had to ruin everything when things got too real. He wasn't there when Max paid the price of his own happiness in retaliation.

Forty-three year old Daniel, who sent out an invitation to a wedding Max never attended, holds up two tiny polaroids taken almost a decade ago and all Max can think of is his signature on the divorce papers, the ink still wet.

He swiftly closes the distance to Daniel and snatches both pictures from him, cradles them to his chest. Daniel's hand is left suspended in the air between them. Max ignores the wobble in between his ribs. His eyes trace the line of the rose tattoo in the direct line of vision, memory bristling, anger thrumming underneath his skin.

"I kept them," Max spits. He doesn't mask the bitterness in his voice. He had it bottled up long enough the cork had gone rotten.

Daniel stares back, mouth slack. He looks good and Max hates that, hates his stupid colorful hoodie and his meager attempts to make amends. Above all, Max hates himself for ever conceding. Daniel has always had one foot out the door. Missed chances were Max's fuel and they've still propelled him back to square one.

"Yeah. I figured," Daniel says, too soft, too familiar. Placating. Max should ask him to leave.

Instead, he drops his gaze to the polaroids laid flat on his palm. They're in good condition but Max also hadn't looked at them in months, maybe years; it doesn't matter since those Daniel and Max, everything they stood for, ossified and turned into dust. It doesn't keep Max awake at night anymore.

Out of the two photos, only one comes from the Red Bull PR department. They never cared when it went missing. Max remembers the video they shot too starkly to be unbothered it ever happened — him and Daniel in matching team gear, insane rain in Monaco; Max winning that weekend and Daniel watching from the pit wall.

The other polaroid, a bit rough on the edges, had never seen the light of day. It captured just a part of Max's sunburnt face, a corner of his smile; Daniel's lips pressed to his cheek, his wet curls in disarray. Max gets a phantom ache in his chest when he remembers how the camera ended up in the sand, falling off a small table where they had propped it up against a half-empty cocktail glass.

Daniel cups Max's hand holding the photos from underneath, painfully hesitant. Max flits his eyes up to the hollow of Daniel's throat, to his full beard; to the pleading look stabbing daggers into the soft edges of Max that were once hard and unforgiving. 

Stashing those polaroids was Max’s way to forget he wished to go back. He was never the one to leave in the first place; that was Daniel's sworn prerogative. But he's in Max's living room now, a lifetime away from running.

"Max–"

"I think," he cuts in before Daniel makes it worse or gives him hope. His hand slips from Daniel's hold and Max retraces his steps back to the kitchen. Daniel tracks his every move. "I think I will put them here."

He sticks the polaroids to the enormous fridge door with a Welcome to Monaco magnet he fished out of a nearby drawer. The photos look whacky but, to Max, it's a long shot. He lingers in place, berating himself for giving this another chance. 

When he turns back around, Daniel is just an arm's length away.

"About that drink," Daniel says, low. Max watches his tongue dart out, wetting his lips. His heart jackhammers against his ribs.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Max's back hits the fridge.

Send me a ship/character(s) and a one word prompt and I will write a 5 sentence fic abou

[ruleroftheimps]

Enter password – – > ************* Verifying… Welcome back sir. What would you like to do? – – > Create new audio recording Recording...

Vox here, to... future Vox I guess? Or whichever group got fed up with my games and finally offed me. Heh, good luck getting anything if it's the latter. Trust me... I'm not just good at finding secrets. Keeping them is a pretty valuable skill in my line of work. Although, I suppose if you figured out any and all important files are stored up here, you've already figured out one. Anyways, I finally, finally got a bit more information on this whole war, enough to finish that overview for new sinners Vel’s been nagging me to make. Honestly, it was pure luck. The old-timey prick was out of commission today, so a certain archangel had to come to our little meeting. Sure, Alastor’s much more enjoyable company than that stick in the mud, but I get a hell of a lot more information from Micheal. Well, considering the fact that I get nothing from Alastor, literally anybody would give me more, but the point still stands.

Really, it’s remarkable how much you can find out from a few, well-aimed questions. Yeah, Micheal doesn’t answer half of them, but his silence speaks loud enough. Add in the fact that he physically can’t lie, and my literal job is collecting and selling information, well…

From what I gathered, the war did in fact start because of a few angels who seceded from Heaven, like the rumors say. Something about missing the ‘creative spark’ Lucifer had given it, I don’t know. I really need to organize the information I have on the archangels at some point. Or get more. I know basically nothing. Fuck you, Micheal.

But the fallen angels- we call them Ars Goetia now- somehow managed to convince the hellborn and the sinners who were down there at the time to start a war with Heaven. Ugh, seriously, whichever of my ancestors thought that was a good idea, I really hope their death was torturous. This war is… well, saying it’s a nightmare is an understatement. It makes literal Hell look like a playground.

In any case, the war started, and Micheal took his armies to stop it before it got out of control. Yeah, he did a great job at that. Well, they did good in the beginning, but, towards the end of the war, for some reason, the portals in between Heaven and Hell got cut off. Back then, apparently, only one of the archangels knew how to make portals, and he got incapacitated temporarily somehow. I think his name is Akrasiel or something? Tsk, I really do need to get more information on Archangels. Fuck, Micheal’s a secretive bitch. Anything else, and I can find it out in a snap, but bring up his brothers, and he might as well be a brick wall.

Essentially, they got cut off from Heaven, and stuck down here. From what I gathered from the King for the low, low price of the angels’ battle plans for the next month, His Majesty and his son found Micheal a week or two afterwards, barely alive, even with his immortality, with all of his soldiers dead around him. Nobody knows who killed them, and Lucifer refused to say how they died. But, they took Micheal back to the palace, and, well… that’s where the stories don’t line up.

Lucifer claims that that night, Micheal assassinated Ramon, the Prince. He wasn’t lying as far as I can tell, and trust me when I say I can tell when he lies. Also… corpses are pretty solid evidence. But… assassination isn’t Micheal’s style, and, like I said, a lot can be gathered from his silence when he’s asked a question. Scars, injuries that never healed, shredded wings… he went through something, and it was bad. I can’t tell which story is the truth, and honestly? I don’t want to know. Knowing things is my whole job, but… I’m pretty sure I won’t like the answer either way.

No matter what happened, the war got so much worse. Demons who had stayed out of the fight joined the war in outrage, and Micheal’s immortality was the only thing that helped him survive. On the other hand, the angels were furious at the slaughter of their entire army, and they doubled down. The Exorcists, a new group of angels specialized to kill as many demons as possible, were created, while Micheal left Heaven in a self-inflicted exile, with quite a few angels and even some demons following him. And, hey, that’s where we get our original three sides of the war. Or, as I like to call them, the original three e’s, because they all have different goals.

Eliminate. The demons, who want to eliminate all the angels.

Exorcize. The angels, who want to exorcize all the demons.

And enlighten. Micheal and his followers, who want it to stop. Or, well, wanted. I’m pretty sure that, nowadays, Micheal’s much more obsessed with revenge, which… yeah, I’m not touching that mess if you paid me. Trust me, people have tried. No.

Two hundred something years ago, the King and Queen had another kid, Charlie. Sweet kid, too sweet, really, for somebody who was born in the middle of a war. She started her whole thing. ‘Enrichen’ as I call it. She basically took over Micheal’s original role as peacekeeper, but… with a lot less sway with the angels, and just… people in general. It’s… not going well to say the least. Seriously, a hotel? Outside of Temptation? Yeah... that's going to work.

Oh, and of course there are the Overlords. Ugh, them. They’re just idiots who just want to ‘endure’ the fight, hoping that it will end soon. No? It’s been going on for centuries? You should try to enjoy the limited time you have. Well, that’s what we say, and it’s the motto of Gluttony. Or, at least, what was Gluttony.

Temptation. The best place in Heaven or Hell for any soul looking for a good time. I’m pretty damn proud of it too. It’s… well, amazing doesn’t do it justice. Whatever you want, whenever you want, however you want it, it’s there. All seven deadly sins are shown pretty clearly here, and it’s the closest thing anybody- angel or demon- will get to a true Heaven while this fight is on.

And, well, if it’s easier for me to learn everything there is to learn here, that’s my business, isn’t it?

– – > End recording Ending recording... Save to files? – – > Y Saving...

~*~ (Hello there if you made it down here! This is the first thing I'm posting for an AU I came up with, called the Eternal War AU because I am bad at naming things lol. Lore will be explained either in posts like this where Vox is making audio/text files and oneshots. I may try drawing ref sheets at some point for the major characters/affiliations, but that's a big if. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this, and, if you are interested, feel free to ask questions!) Eternal War AU Next

[omegaremix]

25 Vinyl Records That Influenced My Vinyl Collecting Habits.

‘Top ten’ lists - they were so commonplace on social media before the pandemic that half of the people you knew participated in them. Your friends involuntarily posted lists of their top ten favorite albums, songs, movies, sports moments, video games, books, or whatever came to mind. Then they’d nominate you to do the same if you even cared. All of a sudden they stopped and for a few months everyone did tournament brackets. These days no one does either. Now, tag a band and see if they acknowledge you exist, solve a simple math problem where everyone with a Facebook diploma in mathematics are out to prove you wrong, or answer some useless questions to find out what your new gang initiation name is by removing your first and last letter and any surviving vowels.

But I don’t care about childish entry-level entertainment that everyone will forget about five minutes later. I’d watch Fox News for that. Longtime Ω+ followers know our ‘top tens’ are much more than that: they are playlists, mixtapes, end-of-year finds, and best-of decade results. That’s what I’m into. I’m into what’s important and that’s identifying with people. It’s not a contest or a be-all-end-all game of right-or-wrong. It’s all fully subjective. Without personal results, how special or unique would these lists be?

The last survey I was nominated to do was from WUSB’s Mister Edison, the station’s only cylinder aficionado in its’ 45-year history: top ten vinyl records that influenced your collecting habits. I did volunteer to do it and I was halfway there, then somehow along the way I deleted it. Now, here it is. But, instead of a top ten, we’ll do a top twenty-five because I’m compulsive and 10 is not a square number. All records shown here regardless of size, speed, color, or print run are those that have changed not only my record-collecting habits but also have shaped my musical tastes to an extent.

The record that started it all? KMFDM’s “Power” 12”. It was the very first vinyl record I bought with my own money, just mere months after purchasing most of its discography in one shot at my local record store. I ordered it from the TVT / Wax Trax mail order - my very first mail-order to be exact - numbered to 3,000 copies as a single-sided etched vinyl record in a clear plastic silk-screened jacket. That also came with Underworld’s “Rowla”. Shizuo’s High On Emotion e.p. was my third. Found at what was Port Jefferson’s Music Den, that’s a record I had to have at first sight because I knew it was extremely rare. Glad I made the right call because I never saw it again. Even though I didn’t have a turntable, I bought them anyway thinking I could hold on to them until I finally got my hands on one. Turned out my ma’ and dad had one: a wooden box smaller than the records it played. It literally had no sound and was deemed almost unplayable, so a close “friend” of mine gave me his father’s 1972 Panasonic and a copy of Autechre’s We Are R Y 12”. I was now in business.

From there, another one-time pressing of theirs, the “Keynell” e.p., introduced me to the panic of now-or-never buying. Booth & Brown collectors know how insanely rare their limited edition e.p.’s are and also how they and Warp divided up their Cichlisuite and Envane e.p.’s in two parts. And that was nothing to when Aphex Twin released not one, not two, but eleven e.p.’s as the Analord series through his Rephlex label. Ten regular platters and two versions of Analord 10: either you got the Aphex logo picture disc or, if you were really lucky (we mean that in a literal sense), one that came with the Analord binder which is fetching impossible prices right now. Some of them even came with the mythical Analogue Bubblebath 5. We’re just happy to have purchased all eleven editions for regular price when they first came out. Amazingly in that same year, I did my first-ever label run and purchased $300.00 worth of vinyl and disc releases from DHR.

The first hardcore record I got my hands on - Kill Your Idols’ This Is Just The Beginning - was also the very first music purchase I made at any show. Three years after one of my close friends introduced me to Sick Of It All and hardcore / punk in general, This Is Just The Beginning flung the doors wide open for crushing similar-styled tough-guy finds. Most Long Island record stores sold them when they came in, and places like Hicksville and Centereach’s Utopia (when they did sell them) offered many easy one / two / three-dollar bargain bin purchases of many 7” records, 45’s, and 12” LPS. The Howards & Checkerboard Charlie split is one example of that and one of many local acts I possess. Jemini The Gifted One’s “Funk Soul Sensation” is the only hip-hop record on the list. Ten years ago I re-discovered golden-era hip-hop and realized there was a treasure trove of white-label and 12” singles I never heard of from that time. Those hip-hop / rap singles can be found on the cheap in the same manner as those discount hardcore records. I’ll be on a life-time hunt for them as at this point I don’t have enough of them.

It’s no surprise to see that more than half of this list is made up of Seventies’ jazz / fusion records. If not for Lonnie Liston Smith & The Cosmic Echoes Astral Traveling, I would not have the size of vinyl library I have now. One of our former hip-hop dee-jays at the station played “Expansions”, “Aspirations”, and “Colors Of The Rainbow” and those three cuts literally changed my life. It opened up an avenue for me to re-discover who I was and revisit a certain era of time I missed out on. From that point on, it was all about that era’s sounds, sampling, and personal favorites. John Tropea’s A Short Trip To Space, Les McCann’s Music Lets Me Be, and Roy Ayers’ A Tear To A Smile - those three records define my final years at Stony Brook. Phil Upchurch’s 1979 solo outing, Stuff’s self-titled debut, Emily Remler’s Firefly, Steve Khan’s The Blue Man, Ramsey Lewis’ Tequila Mockingbird, Eric Gale’s Multiplication, and Ronnie Laws’ Pressure Sensitive tie me in and keep me connected to those years.

Karla Bonoff’s Restless Nights and Urbie Green’s The Fox influenced my collection in an amusing way. I had no idea who both artists were until I pulled them out of the bins. What had me purchase them? I bought Restless Nights and The Fox solely based on the year of release (1979 and 1976 respectively). One listen of each and I knew I made two right calls.

Remember when we posted our entry about our close friend Syke who rescued a pile of old records from being thrown out to the curb? Of the 500+ he found, he gave us 50 and we still have most of them. We selected Pete Shelley’s “Telephone Operator” as a reminder of that free giveaway.

I could list both volumes of the original Dirty Dancing motion picture soundtrack which my ma’ had, her only surviving childhood vinyl record of Disney’s Cinderella, or The Pac-Man Album 12″ picture disc written by Patrick McBride and Dana Walden. But those three mentions aren’t influential; just early Atari-youth memories. My first-ever childhood memories I still remember (not photographed) are also vinyl-related: J. Geils Band’s “Centerfold” and The Cars’ “Shake It Up”; the latter which I have in my possession and are the markers of all classic rock records I own around that era. (Think Dire Straits and Donald Fagan’s The Nightfly to name a few.)

Another Atari-youth moment I remember is The Chambers Brothers’ A New Time, A New Day. My dad cut out the album sleeve and used it as a paper holder in our garage. That very record made me think of whatever few platters I remember him having before he sold his entire vinyl library and our library of Atari 2600 games…for a paltry $50.00. “He needed the money” he told me; which is always a pathetic man’s answer to everything. Had he’d seen how enthusiastic I was into music collecting, he would’ve handed his entire collection to me. Roberta Flack’s Quiet Fire, Kiss’ Rock & Roll Over, and The Rolling Stones Sticky Fingers and Their Satanic Majesties Request were the four in his collection he parted with and I have three of them, not including The Chambers Brothers release. He tried to make it up to me, however, by bringing home two separate piles of records he rescued from the curb. One heap was full of polka records which I donated to WUSB’s resident polka lady before she died the same year. The other heap? Since you didn’t ask: loads of classic hippie rock records, showtunes, and celebrity albums. Jim Nabors on wax? Stop before I deactivate this account.

Finally, Boulders’ Rock & Roll Will Never Die. Look it up and you’ll see it’s a near total obscurity only confined to hipster circles who know what’s up. A five-track Wharf Records release picked up for less than $3.00 is the one 12" that may as well get me into the Discogs purchasing game for all rare releases (not found in stores) I’ve been looking for in the past seven years. I’ve played many of them on Omega WUSBand soon after bought a substantial chunk of their discographies in one shot (three Happy Meals / Free Love LP’s and three Black Marble discs, for example). As a nice side effect, it’ll be the the same for cassettes as well such as Believer/Law’s Matters Of Life And Death and JS Aurelius’ Machines Water The Plants Now - if the seller’s price is right, that is.

Notice how we went from KMFDM to Boulders? You can’t get any more disparate in styles and worlds between the two. The first purchases, public library finds, donations, record fairs, mail orders, samples, jazz-fusion and soul, hardcore and hip-hop buy-outs, record-store victory tours, and many other moments I might have missed…that’s 25 years of buying vinyl records spanning many different collecting eras and genres for me. That’s only one format, and also not counting acquiring music by other means such as radio and downloads which also shaped my collection. The bingo board jumble you see is only a tiny pinch of my musical tastes and not the whole story of my listening habits that’s usually broadcast on Omega WUSB or always posted here on Ω+.

After making this list, I’m reminded that I’m the most diverse person I know. I’m proud that my low-lying threshold for accepting and liking sound and concept allowed me to make that diversity into a science and have that mind-blowing knowledge I have of it. I’m as consistent, thorough, and far-reaching as I possibly can while hitting as many targets as possible. Would there be more bingo boards like this? Only if I make sure of it.

Phil Upchurch: self-titled

Lonnie Liston Smith: Astral Traveling

Karla Bonoff: Restless Nights

Steve Khan: The Blue Man

Chambers Brothers: A New Time, A New Day

Emily Remler: Firefly

Boulders: Rock And Roll Will Never Die

KMFDM: “Power”

John Tropea: A Short Trip To Space

Les McCann: Music Let’s Me Be

Shizuo: High On Emotion

J. Geils Band: “Centerfold”

Aphex Twin: Analord 10 picture disc

Jemini The Gifted One: “Funk Soul Sensation”

Roy Ayers: A Tear To A Smile

Ramsey Lewis: Tequila Mockingbird

Pete Shelley: “Telephone Operator”

Autechre: “Keynell”

Kill Your Idols: This Is Just The Beginning

The Cars: Shake It Up

Ronnie Laws: Pressure Sensitive

Stuff: Stuff

Eric Gale: Multiplication

Urbie Green: The Fox

Checkerboard Charlie b/w The Howards split

[la-appel-du-vide]

01•07•24 - My First NFL Game

Sunday was all about Game Day, but we started by taking my dad to brunch at the Eiffel Tower restaurant. It's my favorite way to do luxury dining in Las Vegas, because yes it's still expensive, but it's much more affordable than a dinner would be. And the food is SO good. We ended up with the perfect window seat and view - the only downside is that Vegas is still cleaning up after the F1 course, so the Bellagio Fountains were blocked by equipment. But otherwise, it was gorgeous. You get a three course meal, and I had a garden salad, the filet mignon with au gratin potatoes, and apple strudel. Dad also got a steak, and he couldn't stop talking about how delicious the sauce on it was, so a big win there! I was happy we could treat him to a nice meal, because he does the most for everyone at all times.

After brunch, we made our way down to Allegiant Stadium. I was able to buy a last-minute ticket for less than normal value, since neither team was in the running for the play-offs at this point, and prices tend to drop day-of. The plan was for me to sit with Dad in the good seats for one half, and then to switch and let B sit with Dad for the other half. The parking lots were packed with tailgaters, and it was a party environment immediately. I was happy to be repping the Raiders, and B kept his Broncos gear subtle hahah.

We got some drinks and found our seats, and we were ready for kick-off! Some very boisterous Bronco fans sat next to me, and we started off on the wrong foot with them jazzing me about "Let's go Broncos, am I right?" and I thought they'd be the worst kind of fans, but they ended up being pretty chill. One of them even bought me and dad new drinks and a tub of popcorn partway through the game, and that won me over real quick. Plus, when they heard our group was separated, they literally gave up their seats mid-way through the third quarter so we could all sit together. Super kind.

Luckily, the Raiders won, 27-14! The Broncos didn't have a great game. I felt for B, but this was Dad's birthday gift, and he deserved a win.

We stopped at Cafe Rio for dinner after the game, and then ended up spending our night watching The Golden Globes! Taylor Swift's Eras Tour movie was nominated, so I was on Taylor watch, but award shows can be fun. I haven't watched one start to finish like that in awhile, so that was an unexpected end to our little Vegas getaway! We flew home fairly early on Monday, and I went straight to work. Love that for me.

[tacticaltaxonomist]

Soap has put the pieces together, he knows Ghost killed a bunch of people Soap tried to date/hookup with, he knows they weren't dating, he knows Ghost had gone through his things, his phone, everything (though apparently not since they left the hospital, Soap has been paying attention). Both Price and Gaz are *worried* about Soap dating Ghost, and Ghost himself triggers the occasional 'red flag' in possessiveness, though other than that things are surprisingly... fine. Domestic. Sweet even! If Soap hadn't painstakingly put the pieces together himself, and remembered that flash of dread and "I'm straight" he wouldn't believe that anything is really, worryingly or even *dangerously* wrong. (He's found the obituaries, the missing person reports. This has gone well past *dangerous*.)

They're lying in bed together, at Ghost's place. They'd moved together after the hospital stay, while Soap was recovering he was supposed to be supervised and Ghost (his 'boyfriend') seemed the natural choice. Ghost had even seemed *bashful* at offering Soap to move in permanently.

Dinner had been lovely, they'd watched a game of footie even though Ghost is a rugby man himself, they'd showered, curled up in bed, and have just been peacefully resting cuddled together. Ghost never once pressured him for any more than what Soap readily instigates (and if he *had* this would have been *such* an easy problem to deal with, an easy decision on what to do about this, which is Soap hadn't expected, considering the actual literal *murders*).

-

"Are you happy?" Soap asks into the dark room, apropos of nothing, his head resting on Ghost's shoulder, and the rest of him a long warm line against Ghost's side. One of Soap's thighs is thrown across his hip. It to keep his knee more comfortable, Ghost knows, and he welcomes the weight.

Ghost turns his head to him, movement slow and relaxed, he's a happy puddle in the sheets, with Soap's hand petting over his chest. "Hm?"

"Are you happy."

"Course, luv." It's the easiest answer in the world. Ghost has never been this happy, this secure, this relaxed. He worked for his, and it was handed to him on a leaden platter like it was *meant to be*.

Soap stops petting, and instead pushes himself up using Ghost, half leaning over him, a shadow in the dark room, the night outside is a wall of black against the window.

"How long do you think it'll last?"

Ghost blinks, tries to sit up to face Soap, who's hand doesn't budge. He's pressing Ghost down into the mattress instead. Pinning him with his weight. Anyone else he'd already counter, but this is Soap. His Johnny, his love. They were meant to be, practically ordained by the fates themselves. For some reason Ghost's heart starts racing. He means to answer, but the words don't come, his mouth turns dry.

Soap doesn't move, as he continues, "You know what I think?" He's a black silhouette bleeding into the black of the room, there's nothing for Ghost to read.

"Johnny?"

"I think that I've known I was bi since I was thirteen."

It's so out of the left field that it takes a second, a long, agonising second for Ghost to understand why he feels like Johnny just plunged him into an icebath, cut off his air, his brain, there is only fight- fight- fight- but his hands lie cold and clammy on the sheets, unmoving.

He knows.

Johnny knows.

Whatever gave him Soap, it's taking him away.

Soap wakes up to Simon at his bedside. Between the way Simon completely changed from how he spoke to Soap and the way he spoke to hospital staff, and the butterflies in his stomach, hell he even called Soap Johnny and to Soap's own surprise he loved the way it sounded, Soap finds the courage to ask "So when were you gonna tell me yer my boyfriend?" Because obviously he was.

Simon doesn't even skip a beat, smiles widely at him, dimples bisected by harsh glasgow scars. "Caught me out, have you?" Then he looks away, as if afraid to see the consequences of his actions. "I didn't want to overwhelm you, I'm sorry."

Soaps heart and pride swell. At being right, at knowing his boyfriend on instinct alone. He forgave him immediately, Simon had just been looking out for him.

Except,

They weren't together.

Long before the mission that had landed Soap in the hospital, Ghost had admitted to Soap that he had feelings for him, much to his own dismay. Adding to that dismay, Soap had taken a step back, looking conflicted. "I'm sorry, Lt. I- I'm straight."

Ghost had cursed, apologized profusely, desperately hoping he hadn't made the other uncomfortable.

Soap assured him they were fine, they were still friends. They were. Of course they were.

Since that day though, Soap had the worst luck with dating. Every girl he talked to would ghost him. One night stands would go to the bathroom and not come back, or tinder dates wouldn't even show. The only one who didn't ghost him was Ghost. Ever his best friend.

Seeing him now, how he seemed so excited about being together, Ghost convinced himself this was how it was meant to be. Soap hadn't meant it when he'd rejected him, he was just protecting their jobs. Yeah. Had to be. And that could work in his favor.

"Price and Gaz don't know." He said quietly.

"The other two guys who were in and out of here?" He tilted his head like a confused puppy. Shit, those eyes and that pout had Simon in a chokehold. "Surely they'd have picked up on it."

Simon smiled sadly. "We have to keep it a secret, for our jobs."

Johnny nodded, but his pout remained. He understood, even if it felt wrong.

This was good. Simon didn't have to resign himself to the friend zone, as he'd initially thought. Johnny was his. He'd been keeping those nasty women off of Johnny before, chasing them away. Hiding some of them after they wouldn't take a hike voluntarily. Now he wouldn't have to do that anymore. Which was good, as Johnny was starting to get suspicious.

But those suspicions had been forgotten.

As Simon took Johnny's hand and brought it to himself, rubbing the other man's knuckles against his lips, and planting gentle kisses to them, there wasn't a hint of suspicion on the Scots face.

Why would there be? His devoted yet secret boyfriend clearly had nothing else to hide. Certainly not the bodies of twelve women.

[bylightofdawn]

Today has been a weird day off. I ended up waking up at like 7 am and couldn't get back to sleep until like an hour before my alarm was ging to go off anyway due to the doctor's visit today. I saw a real MD this time and we had a discussion about all the side effects and other issues I've been having with the new meds. They've lowered the dosage to 500mg x2 a day rather than 1,000mg x 2 a day and we're going to try an extended release version to see if it helps with the gasto side effects I've been having and I'm supposed to do a 2 month follow-up from there. They also wrote me a thing for a batch of X-Rays since I guess most insurances won't let you jump directly to an MRI. I had X-rays done a few years ago but I guess fine, let's get some comparison images. They are also going to give me a referral to a PT for my back issues.

Then I went to Game Stop there in town and I found my beloved Black Series/Gaming Legends Scorch which made me unreasonably happy. I also found another Fixer.

NGL? I low key want to make a trip to San Antonio and just hit up random Game Stops to see if I can find Boss or Sev. And possibly make a trip to Jollybee's and or Half Priced Books since the one in San Marcos closed about two years ago now. :(

Then I came back to town, and went to my chiropractor for an adjustment. I think I might call tomorrow and make one for next week since next weekend my brother and his family will be in town and I'd like to be as pain-free as possible. They want to do a bunch of river and water stuff like go to Schlitterbahn but there's no way I'm up for walking around a waterpark for hours on end and I already told him that.

I also mentioned the weird leg cramps I've been getting on top of everything to my chiropractor and she suggested trying to take a magnesium supplement and have my doctor test my B12 levels which makes sense, I feel like my mom has to take a B12 supplement as well.

And from there I literally came home and just crashed. I fasted thinking they would want to do blood work and you ever get so hungry you get nauseated and the idea of eating actually makes you more nauseated? Yeah, that was me so I forced myself to eat and just kinda went into a youtube/nap off and on spiral for most of the afternoon and going into the evening. It's now 10pm and I'm actually getting some energy for some reason so now I"m going to attempt to write until bed.

I'm very upset with the realization I have to work tomorrow. I'm beginning to question if it would be worth it to work 5 days in a row and have two days off in a row but ugh that just...that's a lot.

Actually....Genji is circling me like a vulture. I think he wants me to lay down so he can have his favorite human pillow to lay on so maybe I won't be writing tonight. LOL

[thunderheadfred]

🦅Hawks HC’s🦅

This is SO unnecessarily long. Some NSFW. Minors do not interact.

- - - - -

General

Has zero social life or hobbies outside of work. He knows it’s unhealthy, but like, who has the time?? Oh? Lots of people do?? Haha what are healthy work/home boundaries? He desperately wants to retire and always talks about a world without heroes, but the truth is he would have no idea what to do with himself if he got his way. Take him to a park at midnight and watch him turn into a giant repressed child on a swing. He’ll do a standing-360 and it will be terrifying.

Listens to music way too loud in his headphones to drown out wind noise. Probably half deaf at this point. His musical taste is wild; listening history all over the fucking place. Algorithms have no idea what to do with him.

That visor? It’s prescription. Wow is he far-sighted. He wears glasses. He’s not blind without them (rather the opposite) but they help him see things directly in front of him without massive eye strain. Yeah, he looks really hot in glasses.

Prefers communicating via text. Sometimes it’s a lot of dumb memes, but mostly it’s sincere. He can say what he means when he doesn’t have to put on a public front.

Smokes like a chimney. Self medicates with stimulants. Coffee, tobacco, sugar. Fidgety, likes things in his mouth or hands. Gnashes on toothpicks and popsicle sticks. He really should go back to therapy, huh? His teeth are sparkling white for the cameras but his breath could use some work. Chews gum a lot to compensate, and always does it really loudly with a big shit-eating grin.

Impatient as fuuuuuck. Rude about it. If you take too long doing anything, you’re going to hear a foot tapping. He’ll smile and laugh it off, never ever directly criticize you about it. But lord, the dramatic sighs. He WILL nudge you out of the way and take over in order to finish a task faster, and it’s truly fucking annoying.

LOVES food. Has the metabolism of an actual bird. Will seize upon any excuse to eat. No need to be self-conscious about eating in front of him; he wants you to enjoy it. Steals bites from you and talks with his mouth full. Prefers street food and take-out, usually eats while walking or flying. Sit-down restaurants are an invitation for gawkers.

He’s one of those celebrities that looks way taller on TV. In real life, he’s small and compact. So you’re surprised the first time you see him in person. He has a big head. Literally.

If you’re taller or bigger than him, he does Not Care. He treats everyone like they’re four feet tall, even Endeavor. Everything you do is cute. If you’re actually short, he’s going to carry you around all the time, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Collects big chunky overpriced watches. All the better to tell you you’re late.

Half his clothes are brand fucking new. Sometimes he forgets to take off the tags. (Don’t look at the prices, do NOT) He never seems to wear the same thing twice. He also never seems to go shopping. Brands just give him stuff, and he shrugs and goes “yeah okay.”

The other half of his clothes are old, faded, and patched up. Every item he acquires for himself has deep sentimental value. If you tell him to throw away that nasty ten-year-old pair of frayed cargo pants, be prepared to find out how wrong and evil you are for even suggesting it.

He doesn’t snore; he coos. Loudly. Like a fucking pigeon trapped in a megaphone.

- - - - -

Dating

Gift-giving is his love language. Bringing your favorite snacks. Leaving novelty magnets on your fridge. He found a copy of that book/game/movie you mentioned like a month ago, don’t you remember? If he has to go out of town on a job, he’ll bring back the ugliest possible souvenir, just to annoy you.

He likes gifting jewelry especially. Covering you in shiny baubles, little golden things. Not expensive, but unusual. Antiques or handmade, even bizarre vending machine crap. Gets really handsy if you wear or show off his gifts.

Since you’re the first person who has given him The Feels, if you are resistant to his advances (like, say, because he’s way too famous and you’re terrified he’s gonna break your heart) he’s going to go fucking nuts trying to woo you. Doesn’t have a single patient bone in his body but will wait as long as it takes for you to come around. He’ll act like he’s cool with just being friends at first, just hanging out, haha. Oh you’re busy today? That’s cool. Inside he’s shrieking like a tea kettle. Go ahead, make him wait.

Don’t bother giving him a key to your place. He’s coming in through the bedroom window or patio door. Just put out a damn welcome mat on your balcony... or a bird feeder.

A bit of a voyeur. He likes to watch you do your normal routine without interruption. He can see from miles away so if you’ve got your lights on at night, he’ll creep for a while before he comes in. It comforts him immensely, seeing a little slice of the world that isn’t constantly in need of saving.

Is super talkative and funny but a terrible communicator. Makes more jokes the worse he feels. Will almost never tell you what he needs. Most of the time, he doesn’t even know. You will learn to read between the lines and gradually notice his tiny unconscious cries for help. Back rubs make him emotional.

He shows up at your place at the weirdest times. All hours. You’re never ready. At first it was infuriating, because you wanted to look your best and have time to prepare, but you figure out pretty quickly that seeing you in your natural state is his favorite thing. He never gets to be around normal people, doing normal things. A boring, lazy afternoon is his idea of paradise.

He’ll pick through your things and ask a world of invasive questions. A medicine cabinet raider. He wants to know every fucking tiny thing about you, live vicariously through you.

He actually lives in a top floor penthouse. Because I mean, where else? Never spends any time there; mostly he seems to roost on the balcony. He has used the front door maybe once. He much prefers your place, and will only take you back to his after months of dating. It’ll take like, an entire emergency. You’ll end up in his bed by mistake.

Because when you finally come over, he’s embarrassed. Its sparse. White. Things in boxes. A new furniture smell. Like he’s not done moving in, though he’s lived there for years. He wants you to move in So Bad but doesn’t want to be pushy. If you don’t start leaving your stuff there, he’ll steal things from your apartment. Where the hell is your favorite t-shirt? Or that pillowcase you like? Dammit Keigo.

He’s a decent cook, a habit he made himself pick up because he thought it might make him feel more normal. It... didn’t. He never actually cooks until you give him an excuse. He’ll bring you breakfast in bed and watch you eat every bite with big hungry eyes.

He’s got a separate wardrobe for his hero costume and all his feathers. Yeah. His feathers. Because he can detach and control his feathers at will, when he’s alone at home he kind of just... shucks off his wings. The first time you see him do it, your eyes fall out of your head. He walks around in a tee shirt and boxers with these ugly little stumps covered in brownish, blood-red down. It actually looks kind of gnarly, like he got mauled by a bear.

He’s never dated until you. No one has ever been in his apartment until you. No one has called him Keigo until you. He has some bigass intimacy issues. Because. Y’know. The trauma. But god, he wants you in his life so bad, even if he has no idea how to make time for your relationship.

He’ll want to keep you to himself for a while. Once you go public he’s going to have an arm around your shoulders at all times. Publicly Displays his Affection way more than is socially acceptable in Japan, and gives precisely -100,000 fucks.

His fans either love you or hate you. There is no in between. He will immediately take your phone and threaten to drop it from a great height if he catches you reading shitty gossip about the two of you. Does NOT care about his public image anymore, doesn’t want YOU to care about it either. He’s gonna retire soon anyway, remember? That’s a lie.

Being a charming motherfucker is the core of his public persona, so you will get jealous. A lot. He will flirt shamelessly without realizing it. He will get photographed in compromising positions with gorgeous people.

Once you accept that he’s basically an actor 80% of the time and that Hawks and Keigo are separate identities, you’ll both feel better. When he comes home (to YOU) and falls over exhausted and stops being Hawks(tm), when he scratches his ass or burps in front of you, when he yells to you from the bathroom, when he groans childishly about his shitty day while laying face-down in your lap, you’ll know you have nothing to worry about. Keigo is all yours.

Boundaries? Never heard of ‘em. He’s either a million lightyears away or he’s glued to your hip. The whiplash is astounding.

Absolutely says “I love you” wayyyyyy to soon. It thrills you but scares you off at the same time, because there’s no way Hawks - The Hawks - can actually mean it, right? (He does)

Rings? Nah. When things get serious, he will make a necklace out of a feather for you, and if you ever take it off, you better be asleep or in the shower. Even then you’re on thin fuckin ice. If you’re not wearing it he knows. He’s never mean about making you put it back on, it just makes him nervous if he can’t feel your heartbeat.

- - - - -

SPICY CHICKEN NUGGETS

High sex drive. Horny like 25/7. Probably a symptom of having way too much pent up stress.

Often takes care of it himself when he doesn’t have the emotional resources for anyone else, even his S.O. Figures you don’t want him coming on to you as often as he would like to, but he’s too stupid to talk to you about it first. Morning masturbator.

Yes he’s fucked around a lot but he’s not exactly a playboy either. People have always thrown themselves at him, and before he met you he let them do it. Especially when out of town and staying in a hotel. Whatever happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, etc.

He’d never be unfaithful to you though; his loyalty and dedication are frankly a little unsettling. Sometimes you feel like the only thing in his life other than hero work. Teach this man to knit. Make him join a book club. Christ. Anything.

Does in fact have seasonal mating patterns and it’s super embarrassing.

An underwear-sniffing perv. He’ll definitely hump your pillow.

Gets a sick thrill out of breaking in and startling you. Coming up behind you in the dark, sneaking into your bed. It’s probably his worst habit, and even he hates that he does it. If you get better at detecting him he’ll be so proud. Land a slap on him and he’ll be a horny mess.

Dog-whistles at you. Often from rooftops, and you have no idea where he is but you know he’s leering.

He will call you a lot of really stupid pet names. He likes the way you blush when he finds a newer, stupider one. Calls you angel when he’s really far gone.

Likes to scratch you with his stubble until your skin turns raw and sensitive. If it annoys you or hurts a little? Even better. Making you squirm is his new favorite thing. Especially when going down on you. Your inner thighs are always exfoliated.

His cock is average in every respect. This is not a bad thing. He knows how to please you with every totally normal inch of that cock. He has some kind of homing beacon installed on your sensitive spots.

Goes absolutely insane for blowjobs. Any time, any place.

Likes to bend you around in all kinds of positions with an assist from his feathers to hold up an ankle here, an arm there. Get used to floating mid-coitus. It just seems to happen.

Spanky.

His number one priority is making you feel adored and at home in his bed. Ohhhhh he likes to make you smile. But if you encourage him to get pushy and dominant with you, you will have a good, good time.

He’s switchy, and will lose his shit if you initiate or take control. Again, he’s always horny for you, because he can finally let go. Breathe in his direction and he’s hard.

Doesn’t moan much, but Babe, he’s a dirty talker. He’s not smooth or deliberate about it, it’s more like he can’t fucking believe you let him do whatever he wants to you. You like that huh? Like he’s in stages of shock. He’s singing your praises to high Heaven and muttering oh shit oh shit oh shittttttt and laugh-crying as he cums. He never talks about his feelings; he fucks about them.

After. Care. King. He loves pampering and clucking over you anyway, this is simply another excuse to do it. He knows exactly how much water you drink in a day. Can’t take care of himself for shit, but you? You’ll never have a need he won’t try to fill. What’s all that hero work for if not this? Yeah, soak it up. You deserve it.

[mrpenguinpants]

Genshin: University AU [V1]

I love modern au. Or any “everything is fine, no one died, it’s just a fever dream” au. Half of me is thinking, damn maybe I should answer this serious- LOL HAHA no. That’s not happening. Time to crack my knuckles and let my brainworms take over again.

Once again, this is 90% crack 10% content. I want to switch up my characters from the last brainworm post but I included Kaeya and Diluc.

---

Today’s appreciation post goes to twistedwishes. Hey! I’ve been seeing you pop up a lot lately and thanks for the support 💕💕 I hope things are going better for you and you’re doing alright^^ I feel kinda bad for making appreciation posts on crack fics but hopefully this is somewhat funny haha. 

---

Genshin: Holding Hands [V1]

Genshin: When you’re cold [V1]

Genshin: Roommate [V1]

Genshin: Royalty AU [V1]

[Masterlist]

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[taglist]  <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

  @mikeysbike @hanniejji@unionwitch @musekala @twistedsunnshiii @stanzastic @akaasea @xoneaboveallx @adoring-ghost @asheseiler @childelover @dilucsz @dai-tsukki-desu @thicmitten @youaskedfurret @diaxfeliz @wintergreen-aix @dandelily @thegayrubberducky @lovelykittycatmeow @yuunoagivesmelife  @dokidokisama @simpygrimoire @minakohasmanyhusbandos @strwbrry-lia @tigerpriestess @yuu-yuukurotsuki​

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Diluc

Absolute pretty boy who has braincells, but only if Kaeya is not there. In his mind, Kaeya’s presence makes his room loose 40% of their common sense. He can’t prove it just yet but he’s working on it. He majors in accounting but also has a minor in marketing, logistics’ management, fia- he majors everything business related. He’s going to become the next Elon Musk through smarts or by getting the competition drunk. There can be no contest if he’s the only candidate. He’s actually a hard working guy that overworks and stresses way too much. You have daily “Diluc recharge” evenings where he just hangs onto you while you go through your day.

“Don’t fucking talk to me until I’ve had my coffee,” except there is no coffee - he drinks grape juice out of juice boxes and his only energy boost is when he meets up with you - and that’s his constant mood. So he usually only hangs around you and Jean, since she has childhood friend status and is actually an angel. By default, Lisa is added and Diluc doesn’t mind her but if he see’s Kaeya, it’s full on war paint mode. If he's not busy with work or studies, he's usually with you either in your dorm or his apartment.

He has a fanclub and he seriously hates it and tries to do everything in his power to get Ningguang to take it down. Shouldn’t this be against his rights? But she refuses for whatever reason and makes a whole speech about free will. No matter what he does, someone manages to take a picture and it get’s printed in the university’s newspaper. The only bonding time he has with Kaeya is every Monday, where they collect and burn all the universities newspapers before anyone can get their hands on it. You always bring marshmallows to make smores during their arson activities.

“When I graduate I’m going to burn this school down to the ground. That’s not a threat it’s a promise.”

Ningguang

Is secretly the leader of the Diluc fanclub - not that she likes Diluc, she’s in a questionable platonic poly marriage with you and Beidou - but it was the easiest way to gain funds for the student council. Which she is the president of, so rip Diluc the fanclub stays. Ruthless business woman I tell you. But she can run in heels so her danger factor rises by at least 20%.

Majors in social sciences and law but more specifically the political science & government. She saw the Imperial State Crown that the Queen of England wears and says yes, that’s mine now. If she’s not with Beidou and you planning on “how to infiltrate the state government just for lols”, then she’s with Keqing, Ganyu, and Zhongli discussing student council things. Should they or should they not tell the student body that they can see everyone’s search results? Sit back and relax as the school goes into chaos. 

She’s probably the scariest person on campus No, she is the scariest person on campus. She’s the scariest person on campus. But secretly she’s popping 20 aspirins just to make it through a night. She has the digestive system of steel. She still holds the title of "seriously do not try and beat her in a drinking game it's never going to happen" and that's her proudest achievement in life but sadly she can’t put it on her resume. Kaeya is still trying to beat her out of spite but so far it hasn't been working. You’re seriously concerned for her when she get’s challenged but Beidou gives you a way-to-hard slap on the back and cheers her on. If Ninngguang somehow get’s alcohol poisonings she’ll somehow find away to make a profit out of it.

"I'll let him die, I'll get the insurance money."

Kaeya

One day he chugged too much mouth wash, passed out, and somehow woke up in university majoring in law. His idea is that if he is apart of the law, he can therefore stand above it. To be fair, his only goal in life is to say “I am the manager” and he can go live the rest of his life in bliss or as a hermit. He’s secret best friends with you but wouldn't be caught dead beside you. He will stab a bitch if you ever get hurt but will still trip you on the way home. Seriously, you have no idea why people find him attractive. Your guess is it’s the eye patch or the clap of his ass cheeks that keeps alerting everyone.  

He’s apart of the newspaper club and if anyone asks: No, he has no idea who keeps taking all the newspapers and burns them in the back of the campus. Originally, he joined because he was nosy and needed to join some type of club for his resume. He sometimes feels bad for his junior assistant Amber because he keeps tricking her and says that Diluc is secretly a demon that is trying to steal all the jobs and is apart of the lizard government hell bent on eradicating the human race. He even brought out a whiteboard for this joke, he’s dedicated to his job ok? 

The type of guy to try and be humble and say his work is “okay” but will choke a bitch if anyone agrees. He tends to leave everything last minute and says that it’s his drug since actual drugs could land you one year in prison and a maximum penalty of $2,000. You have to awkwardly hold in your concerned mother head shake when you see him speed running his assignment literally right when the professor is walking around to check if students finished. 

“I was taught how to lead not to read.”

Mona

Broke wallet #2. Zhongli is broke wallet #1 but Childe simps for him so is he really a broke wallet at this point? In this essay, I Mona Megistus, will explain why I have the rights to the title “Broke Wallet #1″...

Believes that astrology should be an actual career path but refuses to take astronomy as her major. I can read the stars not a textbook that tells me how to calculate the mass of the sun divided by the fucks I give. Instead she went into Philosophy and cries to Albedo, who is an actual prodigy genius- sir lend some braincells to everyone else please?, that her professor keep turning her paper down because “star reading” is not an academic source.

Fischl wants her to join the occult club because, surprisingly, Mona is very good at telling people’s fates through her crayon sketch ouija board. She thinks first year Fischl is cute but is put off by the cosplay roleplay that she has going on. She would join except that stupid hat wearing gremlin in her lit class would make fun of her if he found out.

You gave her half your lunch one day and bought her a doughnut "because she seemed upset" and "out of the goodness of your heart" whatever the hell that means. She thinks you pensioned it but once that thought comes she takes a bite. Poison from a doughnut is not the worst way to go out, classes are hard enough. She’s waiting for the lord to strike her down anyways. 

“Its not about passing, its about doing better than everyone else.”

Venti

Slept through most of highschool and people question how he got into university. He’s a music major (wow how fucking original is that), and if anyone asks him to serenade someone or just do anything, he’ll do it for the right price. Or if you buy him alcohol because he still keeps getting ID checked. He’s banking on Kaeya actually becoming a lawyer or being on good terms with Diluc so he can finally stop being arrested for looking like a toddler.

Takes one step into classes and quickly nopes out and goes back to bed. Professors have no idea how he hasn't dropped out or failed. He just has some god given talent. He does whine at you to pretty pretty please with a cherry on top tutor him because you're such an angel and would never leave your poor but awesome best friend hanging right? He needs to get this essay down but how he is suppose to explain how the number 10 is symbolic and connects to the universe or the meaning of life. Do you think he can just say it’s apart of his culture and make up some random myth to pretend it looks like he knows what he’s doing? 

He’s honestly going with the flow and put his brain on the back burner all of highschool and only now realizes wait, I actually have to use my brain?

He’s been banned from most club chats since Venti has the no chill card. Someone says “lol I look ugly today.” and he’ll respond "yup, you look like a cow." and he get’s banned. Zhongli keeps a speed run timer on his phone just to document these occasions.

"Sad spelled backwards is das and das how it be sometimes."

Childe

An actual dumbass that somehow does well. He eats sandwiches with the crust off, this heathen. Surprisingly he’s studying to become a physical therapist but most of his experience has come from breaking his own bones. You’re scared how he's going to be if he actually becomes a therapist. If he'll make bets with his patients or try to one up whatever crazy injury they get into. Everything is a challenge to him that sometimes the best way to deal with Childe is to knock him out. 

This man really knows the way to a Zhongli’s woman's heart. Through micro transactions. Mona saw him accidently drop $20 and just shrugged and walked off. She has never been both spiritually and physically offended in her life. She did take the $20 though. As much as you hate leeching on Chile when he’s basically a walking wallet that probably uses bills as tissue paper, you can’t help but give him puppy eyes while planning on how to get into his will. If he even plans on having one, he might honestly write “whoever wins in a gladiator style duel in my funeral’s tournament, they will get my fortune.”. 

Any sport the university offers Childe is probably in it. Which is how he met Zhongli, challenged him to a fight, proceeded to have his ass handed to him, got a backhanded compliment, and screamed to you he was in love and how he found his soulmate. He's secretly very sappy and has cried and watched every Disney and Pixar movie at least 28 times.

"IM NOT TOO SPICY! I’M A TINY BIT ABOVE MILD IF ANYTHING!”

---

God if it isn’t Scaramouche, it’s Childe that ruins the aesthetic. This is why I hate you. Why do you people enable me like this, it isn’t even good. This is pretty much a @ yourself moment and I vibe hard with Venti. This entire post was just to make a joke about the clap of Kaeya’s ass cheeks alerting the guards.

This week might slow down since I have classes and assignments. My reply’s are gonna be late too, sorry;; (oh and thank you to everyone that was so supportive and nice when I mentioned it. All of you. Beautiful 💕💕 )

[neomedievalist]

i feel i've already said what needs to be said about this game and it's kind of just widely accepted anyway so no need to retrace our steps here. yes, it's mid. It's extremely mid. if i can say one thing before this post gets too long it's this: Do not fucking buy vengeance at full price. Do not even buy it at half price. i DO NOT trust them to take smtv and make it good.

Okay lets talk about this law ending. needless to say it's the weakest law ending i have ever seen and it sounds like all the other endings are similarly mid. I was laughing at it and literally said wow this sounds just like objectively good what is the downside here until it got to the last line (pictured above) and i was just like OH lol. it genuinely feels like an afterthought really funny. Abdiel is a great character concept and has some great moments and i fucking wish they made her more relevant it hurts so bad that their good interesting ideas always go to waste but she was definitely like the peak of this route. blonde boy is nothing but i like that they did something unique and interesting with the law rep even if it ended up literally being nothing.

Its hard to disagree that the most interesting part of smtv lore is the fact that the world has already been destroyed and the normal world is an illusion kept up by god. I was waiting for them to do LITERALLY ANYTHING with that and they did not but in my head this is definitely the motivation to do law route. I was thinking back to the like one conversation/argument between the alignment reps and i want to tear my hair out thinking about how the moral dilemna of this was not brought up at all. I'm glad it was mentioned for one or two sentences in the ending but it is just not fucking enough. i hate that they didnt show any visuals at all for the ending cutscene. like immediately im thinking of strange journey law ending and how powerful and eerie it is with the scenery and everything but WE DO NOT GET TO SEE what the new world we created LOOKS like at all. We also jsut fucking get abdiel and blonde boy nodding at us and smiling with no actual commentary from them.

I will say I did enjoy a lot of the final bosses. the two final dungeons are absolute garbage just like the ONE other dungeon in the entire game. but the boss fights i really enjoyed which is obviously a common thread in smtv, the entire plot and everything is mid but the boss fights do get me hype. The tsukuyomi fight is absolutely a highlight it might be my fav fight in the game it really calls back to older ps2 smt final bosses, and lucifer was also extremely fun DESPITE THE FACT THAT I DID A MAGIC BUILD. It goes without saying the gameplay is fantastic although i have quite a few complaints they never really stopped me from having fun and they really pale in comparison to everything else in the game. i found the exploration Not Fun and i have also talked about this before. abcesses are fun for the first half of the game and then they become excruciatingly annoying I do not know why they decided to make them disrupt the map its genuinely awful. I do NOT like the miman collecting glory system i honestly think app points worked fine as they were and there was no reason to change them like this but, whatever. It ceases to be a problem in the lategame because you get a ton of glory crystals. thats another thing i noticed i had so many fucking items by endgame like grimoires that level up your demons i had been saving them for endgame and i used like...20 out of the 50 i had because why not btu they were really not needed. I also feel like the skill inheriting system where you get essences and can just put any fucking skill on a demon is incredibly busted BUT i can't actually complain about it because i have the ability to just Not Use It. same thing with the grimoires. Also the mp costs in this game are so fucking weirdly high but everyone has said this already. i also hate that concentrate is useless now. and i still hate that phys skills cost mp. but again none of this actually stopped me from having fun it all just mildly pissed me off

I honestly think other than abdiel my favourite character was tao. she was really interesting and had a lot going for her. after they kinda killed her off it was just like oh ok. anyway. i feel like she was involved in most of the actually good plot development scenes in the game and her conflict was genuinely cool and compelling. but, whatever, we just have amaterasu now i guess. Yuzuru was nothing, I really do not give a fuck abt nuwa and her boytoy sorry, prime minister was kind of interesting, i literally forget every other character in this game. who was the girl with the green scarf and what the fuck did she do. where is she. did she die? i cannot remember at all.

here now i have to admit it. i do want to play vengeance because i'm a sucker. i would love for them to elaborate on all of these themes that were dropped. but i genuinely ...i picture myself paying $20 for it and still feeling ripped off. i've seen some people say it looks good and interesting so far and i have to say it does not look interesting so far. i dont care about the new things theyre doing they dont look interesting enough to make me have faith or be invested. what would make me, and what IS making US buy this game as smt fans, is blind faith in atlus that this will be SMTV BUT GOOD. and WE CANNOT HAVE THIS BLIND FAITH!! WE CANNOT!! we cant fucking do this. we trusted smtv in the first place to be good and look where we are now! just because they're making an updated version of a mid game doesn't mean it wont ALSO BE MID! WE CANNOT FALL FOR THIS!! DO NOT FUCKING BUY VENGEANCE!! IF YOU HAVE TO BUY IT DO NOT BUY IT FULL PRICE AND FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DONT BUY ON RELEASE OR PREORDER BECAUSE I STILL REGRET THAT SO BAD.

oh also the blatant nocturne nostalgiabaiting still pisses me off ive just talked too much abt that already in other posts it isnt worth bringing up again. ok bye.

After almost 3 years i have finally fucking finished smtv. post coming with my full thoughts and review shortly

[wizkiddx]

Heey, first of all yeeah to 500 followers!! You deserve them 🎉 I was wondering if you still do the celebration and could write something for #2 neck kisses with Tom. Thanks and have an awesome day 😊

so sorry but i completely lost this in my inbox so sorry its so late!!!! also this is kinda a Father’s Day one too (except im half a week too late but hey ho)

summary: soon to be dad!tom predicts your babies gender

kissing prompts 2 = neck kisses

///////////////////////

Your day had been a pretty mundane one. Just a typical Saturday of getting shit done - involving cleaning the bathrooms and then putting a wash on. It was a set of jobs you'd normally share with your fiance, except he had been out golfing all day.

To be fair, he had earned himself the day off. Ever since you'd found out you were pregnant - the boy had barely let you lift a finger. Especially after you'd passed the 24 weeks landmark, now that the baby bump wasn't so much a bump, and more a fucking volcano sprouting out your belly.

For once the British weather was actually pretty decent, meaning you opened all the patio windows to allow the ribbons of golden light to stream into your living room. In your own little world, you stood by the table and hung up baby grows on the airer. Yes, it was a bit early to be laundering the baby's clothes, but both you and Tom couldn't help yourselves. Last week, when you went shopping for Nikki's birthday - instead the both of you had got distracted by the newborn section.

Tom made a quiet entrance into the house, so much so you hadn't noticed the door open as you softly hummed an old Beatles tune whilst reaching for the following soft grey striped onepiece.

He hadn't been in the best mood when walking through the door. The round had not gone his way, he'd ended up 6 shots above his standard handicap whilst Harry had got his PB. Pissed was an understatement - Tom had turned down the pub after, which meant he was absolutely fuming. Instead, he just wanted to come home and have a shower and forget about everything.

All of that kind of melted away though, when he rounded the corner of the hallway - the sight stopping him dead in his tracks.

You, standing side on, your outline a silhouette to the evening sun filtering through the doors. The light effect made you look ethereal, as well as exaggerating your bump evermore. And then you were holding up this tiny looking babygrow in front of you. It was inexplicable but, at that moment, literally nothing else mattered to Tom.

Of course, you eventually caught him staring, a soft smile growing on your face after you'd turned to pick another baby grow up. All it took was that one look for all the tension in his body to fizzle away. Immediately Tom took the steps towards you, hugging you from the back and propping his chin on your shoulder, whilst his hands slipped under your bump.

"Thought you said it was too early to get the baby stuff ready?"? He whisper- chuckled, making you roll your eyes. Because it was his puppy dog eyes begging you to let him by the 12 babygrows the other weekend.

"Shhhhh would you just look how small they are!" You gestured as you shook out another damp babygrow in front of him.

"Just imagine…" Tom spoke very quietly as he reached round you to take the little onsie out of your hands. He then lifted up the hem of your cotton vest top, laying the outfit on your exposed belly. "Someday soon they'll be outside your stomach like this."

The action, of him holding the cotton fabric over your belly, had everything feeling a lot more real all of a sudden. You were seriously going to have a baby.

It made you let out a little gasp, which Tom only chuckled at, pressing himself closer against your back. "You only just realised that love?"

"No I- ooh" You were about to violently defend yourself from Tom's laughter, except you were distracted by a slightly uncomfortable pressure on your stomach. Instantly you moved your hand over Tom's and pressed down on the area, so Tom could feel the little butterfly kicking through the babygrow.

"I think baby likes her outfit" You giggled, whilst now it was Tom's turn to hold in an unconscious breath. He slowly pressed around the outline of the protruding limb, which your baby kept returning as if high-fiving him.

"Oh my god she just fist-bumped me!"

"Or he!!!" You laughed, shaking your head against the top of his.

"Nah it's a girl I can sense it." He whispered, though very much not concentrating on anything except the little game he played with the baby in your stomach.

"Spidey sense?"

"Nope… special dad instincts." This time he spoke against your jaw, before peppering your bone with short pecks. "Mhm…." Tom spoke as he worked his way downward, poking his nose in the crook of your neck "I love my girls so much."

"Or boy!" You indignantly interjected, earning you a huff from Tom as he stayed softly nipping the sensitive skin just above your collarbone.

He was attempting to get you lost in the feeling, and boy was it also it working. Letting your head loll to the side to give him better access, you exhaled deeply, bringing your right hand round the back of both of you to trail through his brown curls. He was still a little sweaty from spending all evening in the summer sun- which reminded you.

"How was golf, by the way?" All you received was a mumbled 'doesn't matter' back, which in itself answered your question very well.

"That means you lost?" Giggling at his schoolboy attitude to defeat, Tom groaned, then even harder when you spun in his hold, so now you were facing each other - his hands still holding the baby grow on your bump between the both of you. This way you could see him, and he wasn't ever able to hide anything when your innocent gaze was on him.

"-sn't my fault" He pouted, big brown eyes looking so profoundly at you that some might even find the intensity scary. "My club broke anyway, so it wasn't a fair game."

That made you cock your head to the side. Really? A club just spontaneously breaking? You'd seen the bank statements; you knew how bloody much Tom invested into his club collection. They definitely shouldn't e flimsy and snapping spontaneously at their price point.

"The club broke orrr you broke the club?"

"The club was involved in an unfortunate accident; a tree collided with it."

You had to laugh at how Tom explained how he had taken his anger out on a tree. Tom returned your humour with an eye roll - not much enjoying being caught out.

It didn't last long, though, as and harsh jab interrupted you with an 'ooof'. It came from inside you and even Tom winced at how hard the little munchkin inside you kicked your side, right over where Tom's hands were resting.

"I think that's baby's way of telling you off for having a temper tantrum." Once recovered, you had to grin again, rubbing the skin with Tom's hand to ease the subsiding ache.

"Is it not too early for her to realise exactly who's in charge?" He grumbled, referring to the fact that you both knew Tom was wrapped around yours and soon to be babies fingers.

"Or him!".

To shut you up, Tom finally gave you the welcome home kiss, still with his hands holding the babygrow on your bump. Excited, if terrified, to be yours and your baby's bitch boy for the rest of his life.

~~~~let me know what you think, recently been finding acc writing v difficult so sorry if this aint great~~~~~~

taglist: @crossyourpeter@euphorichxlland@hallecarey1@hollandfanficlove@hollandlover19@hunnybunimdun@lovehollandy12@msmimimerton@pandaxnienke@fernandasantana @thegirlwiththeimpala

[piecksz]

forget me too. | (m)

pairing: modern punk!bakugo x fem!reader 

warnings: nsfw, angst, cheating, oral sex, penetrative sex, angry sex, choking, fingering, exes with benefits, mentions of breeding, hair pulling, explicit language, toxic relationship, manipulation, reader just being a lovesick puppy but wouldn’t we all be if it came to bakugo

summary: it’s been a year since you broke up with bakugo after you found him cheating on you, and you swore you’d moved on from him, but when you run into him again at a record shop, you fall back into a dangerous cycle of love and hate

words: 9,800+

a/n: so i gave in and watched downfalls high, and i’m not gonna lie, it wasn’t the best piece of media i’ve ever consumed, but mgk’s feature track with halsey kind of ate (AND IT LITERALLY INSPIRED SO MANY ANGSTY IDEAS I WAS ITCHINGGG). therefore, this is said angsty idea. you can listen to the song forget me too by machine gun kelly (feat. halsey) while reading, that’s if you’re really daring. good luck lol 

If there was one thing in the world you couldn’t fully understand, it was the type of girls who hated their ex-boyfriends, twirling their hair flirtatiously and giggling at all their pitiful punchlines one week, and the next, hatching bogus rumors to discourage other girls from seeking them out romantically, letting them know that their charm came at a price.

Until it was Bakugo.

You genuinely didn’t see it coming. You weren’t even able to recognize the severity of the situation until you were convulsing with the gravity of your sobs, shrieking at him in front of his apartment. Bakugo had called you earlier that evening to reschedule your previously-arranged dinner date since his friend Kirishima was in town, and he wanted to dedicate the rest of the night to catching up with his old schoolmate. You happily forfeited your own plans and instead opted to rendezvous with your boyfriend and his familiar later in the week, but as the night hauled on your favorite TV show no longer satiated your boredom.

Shuffling into the kitchen and scouring your cabinet for ingredients, you drew up the idea to bake some sweets for Bakugo and Kirishima because you figured it would be a nice surprise, however once you arrived at Bakugo’s place you deduced quickly that his friend wasn’t over. It should have been notably clear that something was unusual by the way he was hesitant to let you in.

He poked his head out from behind the privacy of his front door, definitely surprised to see you, but not in the way you had hoped.

“Y/N,” he greeted you with a tight-lipped expression, eyes dropping to the tub of sugar cookies in your hands. “What are you doing here? Why didn’t you call me to let me know you were coming over?”

You hummed after detecting a subtle edge in his voice. “I wanted to surprise you.” You rose to your toes to look past his head. “I thought you said your friend was coming over.”

Bakugo nodded, and once he extended his hand to accept your treats you could see that his torso was bare. “Idiot had to cancel at the last minute. School shit. He said he’ll be here tomorrow.”

Your grip tightened on the container. 

If his friend couldn’t make it then why didn’t he let you know? The two of you still could have made it to your dinner reservations.

And in that moment, you swore your internal monologue was loud enough to hear, because you immediately received your answer when you heard a soft, feminine voice come from inside his apartment.

“Who the fuck is that?” you barked, trying to outbalance Bakugo’s weight on the door. “Bakugo you little fucking shit--let me in.” It was a moment-long game between the two of you until Bakugo gave in, accepting the reality that he’d already been caught. You stumbled into the door as it swung open, revealing his company.

She was petite with short blonde hair, wearing a panicked expression that matched Bakugo’s oversized flannel on her naked body almost impeccably. You stared at each other until you broke the tense silence with a quiet holy shit.

“Holy shit,” you repeated louder, blinking as fast as you could to hold back the salty tears that were beginning to cloud your vision. “You fucking dick!” You didn’t notice how forceful your voice had gotten until you were shouting at him, the immense pressure building in your chest making your voice crack. You hurled every vulgar name in the book at Bakugo who couldn’t even look you in the eye while you cried in front of him.

This couldn’t have been the same man you once saw your future playing out with. The hell unfolding in front of you was exactly what your friends, Momo and Ochako, had predicted once you disclosed your interest in Bakugo. They warned you that he had a record on campus, with multiple girls, and yet somehow when he wooed you with sweet words and thoughtful gifts, just like they said he would, you still thought you were different. The worst part of it all was that he wasn’t a terrible guy by any means. He was a little rough around the edges with a temper, but he was hilarious and passionate, all while being profound and smart.

In your fantasies the two of you were married, and then came babies with tufts of your tresses and the mischief of his ruby eyes. He would have been a winner, if he wasn’t so emotionally incompetent. Perhaps you were naive to assume what you and Bakugo had was love just because he said so.

Your quivering fingers worked unsteadily against the lid of the tupperware. You tossed it aside before dumping the container’s contents on the floor of his apartment and hurled the empty food saver at him.

“Come fucking on Y/N,” he said wearily. The fucking nerve he had to act tired.

“Enjoy your cookies,” you responded venomously, leaving quickly before another set of tears came surging.

The next several months were excruciating, and the pain you experienced was nothing compared to its onset. If you weren’t spending days cocooned in bed to sleep off the fatigue of your endless crying, then you were on your couch, staring unamused while Blair Waldorf waltzed across your TV screen. 

At least she got her happy fucking ending. Good for her. 

You couldn’t even find the energy to eat, and ice cream was not the cure-all for heartbreaks like everyone lied and said it was.

Every so often Momo and Ochako would pay you a visit. For the first few weeks they let you mourn, consoling you and cleaning up the litter of crumpled tissues around your apartment. After the first month, they suggested that maybe meeting someone new would be the best way to help you forget about your break up, but you didn’t want to meet someone new. You just wanted to know if Bakugo missed you too.

Once your grades started slipping, you used that as an excuse to turn to isolation and lose yourself in your schoolwork. The distraction left you with no leisure time to scroll through old photos of you and Bakugo in your phone, and within a couple months, you swore that you’d finally moved on from him.

But it seemed all of that was forgotten the moment you recognized his head of spiky blonde hair from the next aisle over in the record shop, and you silently cursed the universe’s cruel way of working, that all-knowing bitch.

You kept your head down, pretending to be overtly interested in the Kendrick Lamar vinyl you held in your hands, but you couldn’t stop peeking over the shelf to see if Bakugo had moved from his spot.

You could hear him shuffling, and every time you looked up, he was a step closer to the end of the aisle, meaning that your game plan was to move in the opposite direction, so you could slip past him without being detected.

You continued to move one step to the left every time Bakugo moved another step to the right, surely securing your elusive escape, but when you glanced up again, he had disappeared from your line of surveillance. Shit.

“Y/N?”

Shit!

Slowly, you pivoted in the direction of your name only to gawk, horrified, as your ex-boyfriend strolled up to you casually, like he had never ripped your heart out and trampled all over it.

Once he got closer, you realized how generous the year between your break up and now had been to him. His yellow flannel was useless tied around his waist when it should have been on his shoulders instead, covering the way his black Led Zeppelin shirt clung to the impressive build of his upper body.  

“Holy fuck, it is you,” Bakugo said, incredulously. You swore he had grown taller now that he was standing in front of you because you couldn’t remember if he had always towered over you.

“Small world,” you said, distastefully.

“Not really,” Bakugo shrugged. “This is just where I come to slave away for minimum wage.”

You simply blinked at him with a placid expression, unable to decide which of your emotions was best considering the circumstances.

“I almost didn’t recognize you,” he chuckled. “Did you cut your hair?”

You raised an eyebrow plainly. “No.” If anything your hair had grown a few inches longer.

“Highlights?”

“No.”

“Shit seriously?” Bakugo cast his eyes downwards and then back up, sizing up your figure. “Well you look good.”

You could only offer up a dry laugh in response while shaking your head at the peculiarity of the situation.  

“What is wrong with you?” you jeered.  

You couldn’t believe the ease with which he approached you after not seeing you for twelve whole months, especially when six and a half of those months were spent bawling your eyes out over him and trying to repair the heart he broke carelessly.

Bakugo’s blithe expression withered. The look left behind was one of bashful remorse, as if he was embarrassed by the person he was a year ago.

You weren’t even sure if he had really changed since you’d gone out of your way to avoid hearing or seeing anything about him after you claimed to have gotten over him. The real reason was that you felt you couldn’t trust yourself. You feared that if you came across anything having to do with him, you’d descend into another self-destructive, heartache-driven spiral.

“I tried calling to apologize, but you blocked my number. And then blocked me on everything else,” Bakugo explained.

You shifted uncomfortably.

“I never saw you around campus, and when I showed up to your apartment you weren’t home. I felt like horse shit, seriously, but after a while I just gave up, I guess.”

You pursed your lips together at the mention of his attempts to remedy your breakup, specifically because this whole time you could have sworn he didn’t care to fix things with you.

Bakugo leaned in, and you surprised yourself by making no effort to create more distance between the both of you.

“I’m really fucking sorry, Y/N,” he said softly, for once without the gruffness of his usual tone.

If he made the effort to apologize even after a year, that must have meant that he still had some feelings left over for you, right? Did that mean he still loved you? The suspicion made your heart squeeze with expectation.

“Are you sorry that you hurt me, or are you sorry that you got caught?” You questioned.

“Both,” Bakugo snickered tactlessly.

You swore you could have punched his lights out then and there, but he must have noticed the way you tensed up because he looped his arm around you, pulling you in until you nestled into his larger frame.

“I fucking missed you, dumbass.”

Your stomach dropped at the very mention of the words you were longing to hear after your split, and you knew that you weren’t over him. Not even close. Even when you had caught another girl with her hands on him.

Your first mistake was unblocking Bakugo’s number that night, and your second was sending him a text. You stood in the bathroom, dumbfounded by your own actions while you clutched your phone nervously. Thank god he didn’t have his read receipts on. The last thing you needed to know was if he decided to leave you on read after you had just stroked his monumental ego.

You sat your phone aside and proceeded brushing your teeth until you were interrupted by a shrill ding from beside you. You grabbed your phone much too quickly and slid the screen up to be met with a reply from Bakugo.

9:32 PM

bakugo: so i’m still in your phone huh?

9:32 PM:

bakugo: lmao

9:33 PM:

bakugo: thinking about me even after bitching about how much you hate me?

9:34 PM:

bakugo: especially at night that’s hot

You scowled at the messages before putting your phone back down. Using the time it took you to finish brushing your teeth and washing your face, you recited your responses over and over again because as much as you wanted to, you knew it wouldn’t be smart to jump back into your relationship that fast. You still held negative sentiments about what he had done to you, but the pleasure of having him back was slowly beginning to outweigh your earlier feelings.

While shuffling into your bedroom, you kept your eyes glued to your phone screen, typing, deleting, and retyping messages, worried that they would sound too needy.

9:50 PM:

you: so i see you still have a head so big that it could block out the sun

9:53 PM:

bakugo: fuck off you little shit

9:53 PM:

bakugo: no classes tmrw and i’m off work at 12

9:54 PM:

you: ok? do i look like your fucking secretary?

10:00 PM:

bakugo: no im just letting you know in case you’re planning on stalking me again :^(

10:01 PM

bakugo: obviously i wanna see you tomorrow dipshit

Warmth spread across your cheeks until it deepened into a dangerous heat, and the happy memories of you and Bakugo a year ago resurfaced as deja vu. Everything was scarily reminiscent of the way he asked you out the first time, back when your opinions about him were much more straightforward.

You rolled over to the other side of your bed and squealed, flustered by how to-the-point he was about his desire to reconcile things with you.

“Get it together, honestly,” you reprimanded yourself, jabbing a finger against your temple in an effort to drill the mantra into your head.

You responded back to accept Bakugo’s invitation, being mindful not to sound too excited, but you couldn’t deny that you slept better than usual that night.

The next day when you met up with Bakugo after his shift at the record shop ended, the two of you settled on getting coffee from one of the restaurants on campus. Well, you got a coffee, but Bakugo went for an iced tea instead because he insisted that coffee tasted like “dog shit”.

Regardless of your staggering difference of opinion in beverages, you guys hit it off again, laughing and joking around like there had never been a rift between you two in the first place. You were taken aback by how comfortable you still felt around him and how much he still seemed to adore you.

Two weeks after your reunion, you and Bakugo were already falling back into the routine of going on dates like you’d done before, snickering in the back of crowded movie theaters and demolishing each other in multiple rounds of mini golf. You even kept the photo booth picture that was printed for you at the aquarium in your wallet, just so you could peek at it every now and then.

Three weeks after your reunion, you concluded that you were pretty much together. Bakugo had never made it official, and neither had you, but you trusted the way you felt, and it seemed clear that he felt the same way.

Your friends however, weren’t as happy to hear the news of you and Bakugo seeing each other again.

Momo’s eyes widened as she leaned over the table and thrusted her mechanical pencil in your direction.

“Y/N, please tell me you’re joking.” She turned to Ochako who looked at you with a troubled expression. “Uraraka, please tell me she’s joking.”

Ochako pressed her lips into a thin line, shaking her head in utter disbelief. She said nothing. Rather she looked to you for an answer, wanting you to explain the situation before she scolded you for being so forgiving toward someone who didn’t deserve it.  

“He apologized okay? And it really seemed like he meant it, I’m not just saying that. You guys know I can’t hold grudges. I’m soft.”

Momo huffed.

“We started talking, and he told me that he tried to apologize but he never got the chance.”

Your friends were still quiet, waiting for the punchline, but once they realized that there was no hidden gag to the story, they leaned back in exhaustion, disappointed that you’d gotten yourself into another wearisome situation because of your thoughtlessness.

“And he said he missed me. After an entire year, he still misses me.”

“This wouldn’t have happened if we had found you someone else, you know. Someone nice. Better than Bakugo, so you don’t feel like you have to settle,” Momo countered.

“I didn’t need to date someone else,” you chided her. “I’m not one of those people that need to be in a relationship to feel fulfilled, plus I’ve been swamped with assignments.” You knew you were just trying to save face. You knew the real reason why you turned down all your prospective blind dates, and your friends knew it too. You couldn’t see yourself with anyone other than Bakugo, and you meant it when you said you didn’t need love to feel like you had purpose, but when it came to the blonde, it appeared that none of those principles applied.

“You’re lying,” Ochako sighed, tucking her hair behind her ear before clicking her pen and returning to her research paper.

“I’m not settling!” you declared, earning a few scattered glances from the other students in the library. You smiled at them ruefully, mouthing an apology, and ducked your head back into your college textbook.

You decided to drop the conversation, concluding that your friends just wouldn’t understand. They didn’t know your relationship with Bakugo like you did so how could they have understood?

Later that night however, you couldn’t help but chew over your friends’ reactions. There was clearly a reason why they felt the way they did, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to see their concern. You didn’t need to be chastised every time you did something they didn’t agree with, because you reminded yourself you were a grown ass woman. You treasured Momo and Ochako, but you were absolutely capable of looking out of yourself.

“Why do girls watch this shit?” Bakugo muttered from beside you, uninterested in the movie playing on the Macbook propped up in your lap. “It’s just dresses and sideburns, where the fuck are the fist fights?”

“It’s Pride and Prejudice, stupid. Not Deadpool,” you retorted, giggling slightly once Bakugo decided the skin of your neck was more interesting than Kiera Knightley. He released a throaty chuckle while attaching his lips to the base of your jaw and continued kissing until he stopped where your neck met your shoulders.

“Stop, I’m trying to watch the movie,” you complained tenderly with absolutely no intent to make Bakugo stop.

Bakugo sat up, grabbing your laptop off the sheets and closing it briskly. “Fuck the movie, I have a better idea,” he suggested. Your eyebrows furrowed, watching as he tossed the device onto the chair beside your closet.

“Hey, what are you doing, you dick?” you protested.

Within seconds Bakugo was on top of you with arms on either side of your head, effectively caging you in beneath him.

“Yeah?” he whispered provocatively, like he was making sure he had your permission first. He spoke under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

You didn’t know what sensation you registered first: the warmth now spreading quickly across your cheeks, down to your chest, or the pronounced throbbing between your thighs.

You nodded, softly responding with a “yeah” in return, and Bakugo didn’t waste a second before pressing his mouth to yours enthusiastically. You were surprised how quickly you re-familiarized yourself with the curve of his lips and the way they moved steadily against yours. Acting with fervor, he used his hand to grip your chin, forcing your mouth to open wider so he could slip his tongue past your teeth.

Bakugo used his free hand to grab your breast under your sweatshirt, and you relished in the feeling of his warm palm against your skin while he ran his fingertips against the silky fabric of your lace bra.

“Lace? You dirty bitch,” he teased, breaking contact. “There’s no way you could have known we were gonna fuck.”

You laughed, appreciating how seductive Bakugo looked. His sandy hair was tousled from your impatient hands in his locks, skin feverishly tinged with a dusty pink hue, and lips swollen from the force of his kiss.

“I didn’t know, but I was hoping we would,” you answered honestly. “I guess I got lucky.”

Bakugo snickered, clearly pleased with the response he received. His scarlet eyes flickered lustfully, and he hastily returned to working on your body. He pulled your sweatshirt up and off, tossing it over his shoulder before working swiftly against the clasp of your bra, which he skillfully managed to break with just one hand.

Must have had a lot of practice with that.

But your cynical thoughts were soon forgotten the moment Bakugo’s tongue curled around your nipple, enjoying the way his saliva made your skin glisten under the dim lamp light. He hummed loudly every time you jolted and whimpered, your back arching in tandem. He closed his lips around the delicate nub, sucking harshly while making no attempts to hide his sly smile. He was enjoying himself far too much.

He made sure he put his other hand to work, rolling your other nipple between his fingers, pinching roughly while tugging on it absentmindedly. Once he grew bored of your innocent mewls, he thirsted for something filthier.

Bakugo tantalizingly slid his hand down your stomach until his fingers curled around the waistband of your volleyball shorts. He stretched the Spandex material until when he released it, it snapped painfully against your skin, his cock throbbing at the exposure of your earthy groan.

He slipped off your shorts, and the sight before him was enough to elicit a long, drawn-out “Jesus fucking Christ”.

You didn’t realize you were so aroused that your underwear was soaking wet, your pussy now visible through the thin sheer fabric. Bakugo swallowed hard, palming himself to relieve some of the unbearable pressure he was feeling. He could feel his cock straining against his underwear, and he wanted to stick his dick inside you and fuck you until your eyes rolled back into your head, but the only thing he wanted more than that was to taste you.

“These are mine,” Bakugo insisted. He pulled your panties off, chuckling dryly at the wet stain on the fabric before tucking them into his pocket.

You tilted your head at him.

“What? I’m keeping them as a souvenir,” he replied.

But that’s not what you were concerned with. You were more humiliated than anything that this was your first time having sex with him in a year, and you’d been horny for him since you opened the door. You might as well have just written Bakugo’s Whore on your head in thick permanent marker, but you kept your suggestion to yourself knowing that Bakugo would have liked the idea way too much.

Bakugo reached down to pull his shirt over his head and threw it aside, unveiling his impressive physique. After you guys had broken up, he began finding himself in the gym more frequently, placating his regret and anger through physical exertion, and although he used weightlifting to cope, it left him with an incredible build.

Sweet lord, you thought, please fucking break me.

Bakugo wrapped his arms around your thighs, pulling you forcibly toward him. You propped yourself up on your elbows to get a good look as his face disappeared between your legs. You couldn’t see much past his hair, but you felt a long wet lick up your folds, and your arms immediately gave out, causing you to fall back onto the bed while your hips bucked upward.

You let out an obscene cry, but that only encouraged Bakugo more. He parted your lips with his tongue, licking another stripe up to your clit before sucking it into his mouth, all while peering up at you to see the way you writhed under his touch. You gripped the sheets, and your breathing grew increasingly labored as Bakugo swirled the tip of his tongue against the tender bud, slowly in one direction, and then the opposite. You continued to grind yourself against his mouth while your desire became insatiable. You felt like your hunger was completely justified, because you hadn’t been spoiled in a long fucking time.

You completely unraveled once you glanced down just in time to see Bakugo spit on your parted folds before using his fingers to coat your pussy in his saliva. His slick fingers rubbed your clit, taunting you for just a while longer, and then he dipped his fingers inside of you. He started with two fingers, slipping them in and out with ease until his spit mixed with your arousal created a vile lubricant.

With the way Bakugo’s lips were slightly parted and his eyebrows were knitted in the center, you could tell he was concentrating dangerously, observing how desperately you swallowed his fingers every time he pushed them in.

Your vision erupted into white heat when he bent down to take your clit back into his mouth while pumping in and out of you with an added finger. The symphony that filled the space of your room was absolutely foul. Your intense cries bounced off the walls, while Bakugo panted heavily at the messy sound of his fingers thrusting in and out of you. And neither of you cared if your neighbors could hear.

“Bakugo--,” you started, but your broken plea wasn’t nearly enough to get his attention.

“Bakugo,” you cried louder, your body beginning to shake with the onset of your orgasm.

“Are you gonna cum?” He asked, his voice slightly higher than you were used to, almost like he was whining.

You could only give a weak nod in response.

“Be a good little bitch and cum for me,” Bakugo coaxed, as you yielded to the intensity of your orgasm. He quickened his pace just to see you convulse as you reached your high, but then slowed down until he was ready to pull his fingers out of you.

The sight was enough to make Bakugo cum untouched. You were finger-fucked out, eyes shut as your chest heaved up and down while you tried to catch your breath. Your arousal was smeared on the inside of your thighs and your bedsheet was damp where you released.

Bakugo wanted to ask you if you were alright, but the aching pain in his pants took priority. He reached into his underwear, freeing his swollen cock from the confines of his boxers. He bit down on his bottom lip so hard he almost drew blood as he pumped himself gingerly, hissing at the feeling. His tip was raw and flushed, leaking precum in shameless amounts.

He hoisted your legs on either shoulder and positioned himself at your entrance, looking at you for confirmation, and you nodded feebly. He sunk his entire length into you, and you covered your mouth with your hand to stifle a shrill scream. Your walls were already sore, and the sting of Bakugo’s large cock inside of you was a painful bliss. Tears came quickly, and they rolled down your cheeks while Bakugo rocked his hips into you slowly. He was waiting for his aching to subside before speeding up his rhythm, and once it did he was taken over by an unappeasable greed.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, thrusting himself in and out of you. “If you keep squeezing me like that I’m gonna cum inside you and get you fucking pregnant.” Bakugo had one hand on your headboard, his grip so firm that his knuckles had turned white.

You sobbed underneath him, withstanding your own pain until it subdued into pleasure. You shifted your legs until they wrapped around Bakugo’s strong torso, unable to get enough of him.

Bakugo rammed into you, and your headboard hitting your wall furiously set the tempo until he fell into a staggered cadence.

“I’m gonna cum,” he choked out. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck--.” Your name was the last thing Bakugo could get out before he broke free of your hold, pulling himself out of you so he could release. He cummed on your stomach, generously shooting out hot spurts of white until he was soft and you were covered in his seed.

Bakugo leaned over and collapsed beside you, short of breath. He was drenched in sweat and his blonde hair stuck to his forehead with perspiration. He chuckled after a few silent minutes.

“What the fuck was that? Were you trying to get me to nut in you?” Bakugo asked, turning to face you.

You didn’t know what he was talking about until you remembered the way you wrapped him up in your legs while he was inside you.

You snorted, erupting into a fit of sheepish laughter. “Yeah.”

Bakugo raised an eyebrow, bewildered. “Crazy bitch.”

He pulled his sweatpants up and rolled out of your bed. “I’m not ready to be a dad yet,” he voiced, before shuffling lazily out of the room to find something he could clean you up with and smoke a cigarette on the fire escape.

The next morning you found yourself alone, Bakugo nowhere to be found despite you falling asleep with his arms around your waist. You raised a sleepy eyebrow at the empty space next to you that was still sunken from his weight. Okay good, so you didn’t hallucinate last night. You figured Bakugo had early duties to attend to, so you simply grumbled before turning over to get more sleep.

Following that day, every time Bakugo came over to your place, or you found yourself at his, the routine was simple: have breathtaking sex and then pass out.

You grew used to expecting it from him whenever the two of you spent any time alone, and the night before always consumed your thoughts the morning after. You’d squeeze your thighs together during your lecture hall while your professor yammered on about early psychology. The memory of Bakugo’s hand around your throat as he fucked you from behind prompted a surge of heat to your core.

Even when the two of you couldn’t see each other because neither of your schedules coincided, you found a way to make things work, whether it was over the phone, through text, or over Facetime.

Occasionally, you’d ring up Bakugo while he was closing up the shop to taunt him, touching yourself on the other line while he’d grow painfully hard and couldn’t relieve himself until he got home.

“You little fucking shit.” You loved the way his low growls sounded over the phone. “Let’s see how bold you are when I come over and turn your thighs into earmuffs.”

And occasionally, he’d send you videos of himself in bed while you were at the library late cramming for your exams the next morning, touching his cock with haste before cumming on his hands as he groaned your name loudly.

Not an ounce of passion was lost between you two, and if anything you’d only grown closer together from the time spent apart. You had your love back, and everything in your life was ideal.

Of course, that was all before the party.

The party at Sero’s house that you’d caught wind of once you joined Momo, Ochako, and your other friend Mina for lunch.

“You know I don’t like going to parties thrown by frats,” Ochako muttered, ripping off small bites of her chicken wrap.

“Why not? There’ll be plenty of guys there for you to talk to, your phone has been a little dry lately,” Mina responded, laughing silently.

Ochako squinted at her jest before playfully rolling her eyes herself. “That’s exactly why. You know what happened last time I went to a frat party. The hangover isn’t worth it.”

Mina exhaled heavily and turned to you with a hopeful look.

“Y/N, you’ll go with us right? Me and Momo?”

You squeezed your water bottle wearily. “I don’t know. I’m not a fan of frat parties either.” You didn’t know what answer to give her, she looked extremely optimistic, and you hated to rain on Mina’s Friday night plans, but you didn’t want to spend the rest of the evening crammed in a frat house with a crowd of strangers.

Mina stuck out her bottom lip and reached to grab your hand from across the table. “Please? Please? There’s no guarantee Momo won’t ditch me at the party for Todoroki.”

Momo murmured inaudibly beside her.

You sighed, however you relented, giving into the arrangements Mina had made for you, but you regretted your decision far too late.

You showed up to the gathering with Mina and Momo dressed modestly. Unlike your friends and many of the other girls there, you already had someone that you were seeing, and you wanted to look as reserved as you could so there was no confusion around whether or not you were off the market.

Bakugo was possessive, and he preferred to keep his possessions close. There was no telling what he would do or how he’d react if he learned of another man trying to make a move on you.

You took small sips out of your cup while you followed quietly behind Momo and Mina as they moved from person to person, greeting friends you were unfamiliar with. You feigned a cheery smile when you were introduced to them, but overall you were bored with the party scene. You weren’t really a frat party girl.

You yelled over to Momo that you needed another drink and shook your head when she asked you if you needed her to come with you. She looked far too engrossed in her conversation with Todoroki, and you didn’t want to just whisk her away while they were talking. In fact, you were the chairman of the Anti-Cockblock Committee.

You sauntered into the kitchen, sliding in next to the counter once the guests who were there first left. You started grabbing bottles to inspect the labels because to be honest, you weren’t sure what half of these brands were. As a broke college student, you bought your own drinks, which were mainly $20 cases of hard lemonade and cheap raspberry Smirnoff vodka from the liquor store. Clearly Sero had selective taste in high quality shit.

You poured yourself a small sip of Patron, tasting the clear liquid, and tried not to gag at the oaky taste as it burned your throat going down.

You felt someone ease in beside you. “Hey, bartender.”

You glanced at the guest next to you, their familiar visage coming into view. You recognized his distinctive green head of hair and innocent freckles peppered across his cheeks, it was the same face you saw every day in your sociology class.

What was his name? Ku--something. Zu…?

You remembered your professor referred to him by his nickname, Deku, and once you said his name as convincingly as you could, you gathered by his boyish grin that you were right.

“I’m surprised you remembered,” he laughed, and adjusted his circle-rimmed glasses while his emerald eyes swelled into crescents.

“I didn’t really take you for a partier,” you observed. Deku was incredibly smart from what you’d seen in class. He knew the answers before your professor could even finish their questions, and when you’d ask him if he could repeat what the teacher said for your notes, he explained the material even better than the person who was an expert in the subject for a living.

“I’m not,” he replied. “But you know, the college experience and all that.”

You scoffed and nodded, knowingly. “Melt your brain studying for 25 hours a day, 8 days a week, and then get shitfaced whenever you can. Yeah, that’s definitely the college experience,” you joked, pouring yourself a couple shots of vodka and mixed it with orange soda.

“I was meaning to ask you,” Deku started. “I mean--Yeah--I was meaning to ask you for your number in class earlier this week.”

You stirred your drink with a finger before stealing a taste. “Of course,” you agreed happily.

Deku’s face deepened into a rosy bloom once he took out his phone, typing in your contact while you recited the numbers.

“I’m not asking for a weird reason or anything like that. Just so we can help each other out with homework and stuff.”

You nodded, already acknowledging that Deku was a sweet kid, at least as far as you knew. You didn’t expect him to have any promiscuous intentions.

“Yeah, but I don’t think I’ll be as much help to you as you’ll be to me,” you teased, and Deku chuckled nervously still trying to shake the blush off his cheeks. “I’m free on Monday, I can meet up with you after class if you want.”

Deku buried his face into his cup, his shallow breathing causing his glasses to fog up. “Yeah, that sounds great,” he mumbled bashfully.

“Text me the deets,” you grinned, before wandering off back to your friends.

On the way back to the stairwell where Momo and Mina were still standing, your attention was drawn by a large crowd around the living room that erupted into jovial squeals and cheers every few seconds. You gravitated toward the mass of guests, standing on your toes to get a better look, but when that didn’t work you gently made your way through the throng of people, issuing soft “sorry, excuse me’s” and “thank you’s” to the people that didn’t mind letting you slip past them.

You had no knowledge that he was going to be here. He never told you what his plans for the night were, but this was the last place you were expecting Bakugo to be.

Here.

Playing a game of “Kiss and Blow” on a crowded couch with someone who wasn’t you. When it reached his turn, you could see his shallow inhale and how he put in no effort to keep the card against his mouth. It fell between the cushions, and the crowd erupted into another rally.

Bakugo grinned artfully and hooked his arm around the eager brunette before smothering her giggles with a deep tongue-filled kiss.

At first, the cogs in your brain couldn’t turn fast enough to register what was happening, and your thought process stuttered for a moment while your eyes took in more than you expected. Your body remained immobile, giving your thoughts a few seconds to catch up. Maybe for those few seconds, your anguish was suspended, and your shock was simply a cushion until you fell apart.

You couldn’t make your way out of the party fast enough, and you didn’t even think to let Momo and Mina know that you were leaving. Everything around you sounded warbled, like you were underwater, as your leaden legs carried you out, past the front lawn, and across the street until you were far away that you could no longer hear the music of the party. It was then that you pulled out your phone to text Mina claiming that you didn’t feel well and called an Uber to take you home.

The following morning you ignored all of Bakugo’s texts. He sent one at 10 AM, asking you if you were down to get breakfast, and then another at noon suggesting lunch since you didn’t respond to his text about breakfast. He texted you again, and again, and again, and you continued to disregard him.

You didn’t cry this time around. No. You were filled with a foreign anger. It was strange and new, and it burned nothing like the rage you’d felt in all your years of living. You didn’t know whether you were angry at him for putting you through this again or if you were angry at yourself for really believing that he’d changed. You really wanted to confront Bakugo in person, but you were afraid of your unpredictability. You didn’t know what you would do if you saw him--roundhouse kick him in the throat most likely.

Bakugo’s relentless attempts to get in contact with you didn’t let up, even late into the night. He sent another text threatening to show up at your apartment if you didn’t answer him, and then he called yet again.

Angrily, you reached out to answer your phone, but once you held it to your ear all the fury you’d been bearing throughout the day emerged.

“Can you fuck off?” You hissed.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Bakugo responded, taken off guard by your greeting. “What the fuck?”

“If you were so hellbent on seeing me today, you should have thought about that before you decided to be a hypocritical little bastard! Again!” You shook with anger, unable to effectively piece together all the profane names you wanted to call him.

Bakugo was still while you put him on blast.

“Do you not have anything to say to me, you fuckwit?”

“No, because I don’t even know why you’re going full bitch right now!” Bakugo defended himself. You sat back at his reply, confused at why he was guarded. You knew that when Bakugo was aware he was in the wrong he always remained quiet and pensive.

“Last night?” you clarified. “Does last night not ring a bell to you?”

He let out a small grunt of recollection. “I was at a party last night, what are you talking about?”

“No shit, Bakugo! I saw you swallowing another girl whole!”

The other line erupted into laughter, and a large knot settled in your throat.

“Am I not allowed to kiss other girls now?” he asked.

Had he been hit by a semi-truck? Did he need a swift lobotomy?

“Why would you kiss another girl if you have a girlfriend?”

Bakugo muttered a quiet “what”, and then the lightbulb clicked.

“Holy shit, Y/N, did you think we were back together?”

Huh?

“When did we ever say that we were together?” he questioned lightly, finding your misunderstanding comical.

But--

“I thought we were just fucking around, you know? I never mentioned getting back together, and you didn’t either, so I just assumed we were just fucking.”

You didn’t say a word. As angry as you wanted to be and as angry as you already were, he was right. You had only assumed that you two were back together, but neither of you agreed on it explicitly.

“Our dates...” you countered listlessly.

“Two people hanging out together isn’t always a date.” Bakugo shifted on the other end and then grunted again to occupy the tense silence. “Shitting me, I didn’t know that’s what you were thinking.”

Realization of how foolish you made yourself look set in, and you hoped the awkwardness that hung in the air was fleeting. You swallow heavily, unable to digest defeat.

“Okay,” you murmured, before hanging up and flinging your phone aside.

You and Bakugo didn’t speak for the rest of the night into next morning, and by midday Monday when your study session with Deku rolled around, you were more than reluctant to go. You knew the frustration of someone cancelling last minute, but you were unsure whether you could bring a positive spirit to your meetup, and the last thing you wanted to do was put kind-hearted Deku through your bad mood.

As the time drew closer, you were considering texting him to rain check, letting him know you were feeling under the weather, when he sent you a picture at the coffee shop. Deku had ordered you lunch, mentioning that you must’ve been hungry after classes all day. He explained that he didn’t know what you liked so he just bought for you what he usually got for himself.

After that, you couldn’t have possibly turned him down, so you showed up anyway. Before you knew it, the clock already approached 9 PM, and the coffee shop was about to close for the night. Time had flown by while you were getting lost in upbeat conversation with Deku, and the two of you laughed and joked around more than you’d done your assignment, but you didn’t mind since it gave you another excuse to meet up with him. You didn’t expect him to be as naturally humorous as he was, nor did you guess you’d have as much in common with him as you did, but you’d forgotten about your own heartache during the time you spent in his company. Not to mention, he was very easy on the eyes, but that was just an additional plus.

However, when you finally returned home to your empty apartment that night, all your feelings came flooding back.

“Right,” you muttered to yourself, setting your backpack down by the door, and throwing your keys onto the kitchen counter. “Back to square one.”

Normally, you’d invite Bakugo over, but you had no desire to be anywhere within a three mile radius of him at the moment, so you quickly got ready for bed, figuring that the more time you spent asleep meant less time that you’d have to dwell over the all-too-familiar pain in your chest.

You continued to spend more and more time with Deku even though most of your plans were organized around schoolwork, even if it was studying for a test or just practicing terminology flashcards. Eventually, you’d gotten close enough that you didn’t mind inviting him over since your apartment was much quieter than the dorm he shared with his roommate, Kaminari.

You were both sat on your couch, and you took turns quizzing each other on general knowledge sociology questions. You flipped through the flashcards, Deku answering every question with impressive ease, until you had grown tired.

“Deku, this isn’t fun. You know every term,” you sighed, shuffling through the stack.

“Studying isn’t supposed to be fun, that’s why it’s called studying and not having fun,” he joked lamely, extending his hands to take his flashcards back.

You giggled silently at his flat humor and leaned back against the armrest to put your knees up. “Okay, well what do you like to do when you’re not studying?”

Deku slipped his flashcards into the pocket of his backpack. “Between classes, studying, and wrestling, I don’t really have much time for anything else.”

You gaped. “You wrestle? No fucking way.”

Deku raised an eyebrow at you, amused and unsure of the reason for your stupefaction. “Why do you think I’m a loser or something?”

“I don’t think you’re a loser,” you explained. “I just wouldn’t have guessed.” You took note of his lean stature. He did look like he worked out, but you never considered his pastime was something as brutish as wrestling. You figured his interests would explain the scars that decorated both of his hands.

“Okay then,” you began, hopping up and throwing the blanket you were wrapped in on the couch. “Teach me something.”

Deku stared at you, uncertain whether you were serious. “I don’t wanna hurt you,” he said, timidly.

“Oh man up, you baby,” you joked while wrapping your hands around his wrists, urging him to stand up. “Who’s to say I won’t hurt you?”

Deku chuckled nervously before following you over to the open space between your living room and kitchen. He stood for a second, thinking of the easiest moves to show you, and then he nodded, like he had fully decided.

“Okay, come here.”

You did as you were told, letting Deku guide you into the correct position. You cleared your throat, unnerved by the way his chest pressed up against your back, and his strong hands looped around your arms to lock them behind your head.

“This is a full nelson,” he instructed. “It’s a submission hold. It’s not allowed in our matches, but feel free to use it if you ever find some creep following you home.” You could feel his chest rumble with laughter between your shoulder blades.  

You nodded, feeling flustered. “Mhm.”

The next demonstration had the two of you on the floor with your arm twisted at an uncomfortable angle while Deku’s arm was situated over your rib cage. You could feel his staggered breathing across the shell of your ear, and you looked over your shoulder expectantly, waiting for him to explain the move.

Deku must have realized how close your faces were to each other because he absolutely lost his cool. He began stammering, unable to get his words out. “And this one is called the--um...sorry it’s called the--,” he breathed. “I’m sorry, I’m--I just wanna kiss you so bad right now.” His body tensed with his confession, but you were the one who made the first move.

Once Deku’s hold loosened, you leaned into him, allowing your lips to collide with his. Your mouths moved against each other fervently, and the two of you rolled over until you were on top of him with your legs on either side of his waist. Ever since a few nights before you’d blown up on Bakugo, you hadn’t been touched. Not even by yourself. You tried, but your fingers came nothing close to competing with his. You were so incredibly needy that you had to forcefully stop yourself from gyrating your hips on Deku’s crotch. He was already red in the face, and you were afraid he might collapse if you worked your ass against the growing bulge in his jeans.

You broke your kiss to take Deku’s hands, and you rested them on your chest. With Bakugo, he would have immediately taken control, driving you into ecstasy, but with Deku it was different. It was as if he had never touched a pair of breasts before. His breathing grew even more shallow as his body became rigid.

You tilted your head, slightly irritated from the lack of action, but you were more concerned about Deku’s wellbeing.

“Are you okay?” you asked, tongue in cheek.

Deku nodded anxiously. “Yup, yup, yup, I’m great. I’m good.”

But something was off, and you knew you weren’t enjoying yourself like you typically would even with days of pent up libido. You closed your eyes tiredly and released an exasperated sigh, slowly pulling yourself off of him. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this right now--we shouldn’t--.”

Deku opened his mouth to contest, but you cut him off.

“It’s getting late, you should go. I’ll see you around.” You buried your face in your hands, embarrassed at your desperation. “I’m so sorry,” you apologized again.

Deku adjusted his glasses and murmured a small “It’s fine, Y/N.” He helped you up after he pulled himself off of the floor and gathered his belongings before heading out quickly, eager to flee the tension.

Fuck, you thought. How did things get so complicated? Deku was a sweet kid, genuinely pure at heart, and you knew he wanted you from the way his emerald eyes were glued to your frame, even while you were fully-clothed. Yet he wasn’t Bakugo. He didn’t know how to work you like Bakugo did, and you felt shamefaced for thinking about your ex-boyfriend again. You mulled it over and began to question why you were stopping yourself from having your cake and eating it too.

Bakugo didn’t intend on getting back together with you, but he enjoyed the phenomenal sex, and so did you. You held so much contempt for him now, but there was no reason why you couldn’t just agree to the terms of his compact.

Exes with benefits, only now with a few additions of your own.

No dates, no flirty chatter outside of your arrangements, nothing that could potentially steer you the wrong way towards forgiving him yet again, because like you told your friends: you were a pushover, and Bakugo was a sweet talker. That was a combination destined for hell.

Your revelation was exactly how you ended up sleeping with Bakugo again. Your sex life was practically a Dr. Seuss book. The two of you would have sex in his car, in the bathroom at a bar, and you’d have sex here, there, and pretty much anywhere.

When you first called him up, he answered almost immediately, somewhat excited to see your contact after going without speaking to each other for nearly a week. After you acceded, he snorted, wondering if you were conspiring.

“Are you fucking scheming something? Cooking up some devious shit to get me alone so you can kill me? Suffocate me while I’m sleeping? You’re goddamn insane.”

You rolled your eyes aggravated. “No. Are you down, or do you wanna pussy out now?”

Bakugo agreed, and both of you managed to keep things fairly cordial. Well, as cordial as they could possibly be, given your shared history. You couldn’t care less about the differences and arguments you had when you guys were in bed. If anything, you preferred it when Bakugo was angry at you, pissed at something you had said or just releasing pent up stress that built up over the week. That only made the sex filthier.

Although Bakugo wasn’t yours, and you weren’t his, that didn’t mean he didn’t hold some affection for you, and perhaps still even vice versa. He was possessive over you regardless, even if it meant coming dangerously close to breaching the contract. Especially when he caught you one night with Deku at an on-campus movie screening in the park.

After the fiasco at your apartment with you and Deku, you apologized sincerely to him a couple of days later in class. Deku took no hard feelings to your blunder, and he nodded at the mild rejection when you clarified that things would be best if the two of you stayed friends. He reassured you that he was fine, and he was far too occupied for a relationship of any sort anyway.

But Bakugo wasn’t aware that you two had already tested the waters and decided it was sink rather than swim.

When he spotted you alone sitting on a blanket, he strolled over, wearing a sardonic grin. He struck up a superficial conversation that quickly dissipated once Deku returned with the snacks you two planned on sharing.

Your grin when Deku arrived didn’t compare to the indifferent smile you gave Bakugo when he approached you, and he noticed. His eyes narrowed at your green-haired friend as burning rage coursed through his veins.

“Deku, this is Bakugo,” you said, uninterested in Bakugo’s presence while you took the bag of sour candy Deku offered to you.

Deku smiled at Bakugo, extending his hand to exchange a handshake, but Bakugo simply slapped his hand away dismissively.

“Whatever,” Bakugo jeered, his jaw rooted, before he diverted his attention back to you. “See you later, dumbass.”

He left without a fight, but you knew he wouldn’t put the memory past him, and the following night, all of Bakugo’s anger came bubbling out. The way his brain operated was fascinating, especially since he knew that you two had no romantic commitments to each other, that’s what you agreed on, but finally seeing you over him with someone who he assumed was your new interest turned him crazed.

Bakugo held a painful fistful of your hair, pushing your face into the mattress while he wrecked you. He forced himself into you from behind, muffling your screams with the pillow while he rammed into you relentlessly. Every thrust was vicious, exhibiting the full height of his temper.

“You’re mine, do you understand that? You’re mine to touch, mine to ruin. If anyone else puts their hands on you, I swear I’ll beat them within an inch of their life.”

Bakugo hated to admit it, especially since he knew admitting it turned him into the hypocritical dick of the year, but he enjoyed having you chase after him like a lovelorn puppy. You clung to his side, and you were there at his beck and call. He’d always hated being emotionally tied down, hence his apprehension toward serious relationships, but the way you took advantage of the freedom to see other men made him livid.

“Maybe if I really did put a baby in you other people wouldn’t be such a fucking pain. What do you think?”

Bakugo’s pace didn’t let up as his grip on your hair tightened, and he pulled you upright until your head rested back on his shoulder.

“Answer me,” he demanded, dangerously.

All you could muster were broken sobs. You had never seen Bakugo like this, and you were willing to avow that after discounting your fear and pain, it was hot, and you were slightly intrigued.

Bakugo secured his hand around your neck, allowing his fingers to dig into the side of your throat, and you could feel his cock throbbing inside you which let you know he was close, but he wasn’t making any efforts to slow down any time soon.

“The thought of you with him makes me want to fucking vomit. You know he’ll never be able to make you feel like I do,” he snarled against your ear. “No one will.”

You choked out a meager “I know” while your vision grew blurrier from the lack of oxygen to your head.

You came first and then Bakugo came shortly after, claiming you by pumping you full with his hot seed until you collapsed on the bed from overexhaustion.

You realized then, through the cloudiness of your thoughts came a single conviction: that your relationship with Bakugo was an endless cycle. You’d taken every romantic risk for Bakugo while he risked nothing. That’s how you remained foolish for so long, so naive. You refused to learn over and over again, and you sacrificed yourself in the process. 

Once Bakugo threw you modest praise and disappeared into the bathroom, you gave way to the enormity of your despair. Your tears were silent and persistent until your breathing turned ragged while humiliation and resentment burned just beneath your skin.

You were smitten with someone who was bad at romance. Your love was a fairytale, but not everyone believed in fairytales, meaning that was both the birth and death of your chronicle. Fairytales were only real if you believed they were.

Bakugo continued to give you reasons to leave and seek out the love you deserved, but you took momentary bliss as your excuse for staying, like a lovesick fool or like an addict dying from overdose. You wish he would at least give you something to hold onto, like false hope or a pretty lie, but you knew that’s all you’d ever be able to do: wish that things were different so you two could have grown into something beautiful.

[funtimebunnyblog]

So! What about the god ok switch-a-roo? The pillarmen are now human and their s/os are pillarmen!

I interpreted this request as body swapping (similar to what we see in a much later part of JoJo) and I hope this is what you meant, my dear Anon! 🙏❤🥰

If not and you meant for me to write this in another way, I am SO sorry I misinterpreted the request and I sincerely hope you still enjoy this nonetheless! 😅😇

Body swapping with the Pillarmen! 😱 🔁

(Under the cut for length!)

Kars:

• Ending up in your body will piss Kars off more than anything really.

• Don't get him wrong, he loves you with all his heart; it's just that he's a man who is rather comfortable in his superiority and status over your race.

• He had worked VERY hard to get himself where he wanted to be afterall...

• Suddenly being reduced to a mere Human is enough to make his (er... your) stomach turn.

• Kars' new "limitations" in your body however didn't stop him from working out how this happened and, more importantly, how to UNDO it ASAP.

• When you happen to come to in Kars' body, the feeling is unsettling and strange to say the least.

• Piloting not only a Pillarmans body but Ultimate lifeform's as well will take you some getting used to for sure.

• For one thing, you'll come to find his hair gets in the way of EVERYTHING.

• If the wind blows or if you happen to turn sharply it's suddenly in your (well... his, but you get the idea) mouth or sticking in your eyes or just plain in your face!

• You can't understand how he stands it at all!

• There's no time for you to ask him to teach you how to wrap it up like he does either to remedy the issue so you have to grin and bear it.

• On the other hand, even the slightest jump in your emotions makes his arm blades spring forth!

• You almost ended up accidentally stabbing Kars (while he was in your body) as a result of getting worked up over the whole matter.

• Kars could only watch you floundering about in his body, frowning and shaking your human head as he told you repeatedly to keep calm and they'll stay put.

• As if you could keep level-headed at all in this situation as it was.

• On the upside ot things however... you learn some interesting things about Kars.

• "...Wait." you paused, peering down at the muscular legs beneath you; your eyes bore into Kars' boots with a critical gaze. There was something cushy sitting just below the heel on the inside.

• "Do you... have cloth wedged into your boots?" A sangria eyebrow raised, ruby eyes falling onto Kars.

• You watched as the features of your own face shifted dramatically, mouth falling open, scandalized. "I--" he began, but your voice fell short as he couldn't find anything to say in defense.

• "Do you do this to make yourself look taller?" A wheeze rose up in the Pillarman's chest, rich barking laughter ringing out as you doubled over in laughter.

• You suddenly came to the realization that you had never once seen Kars without his boots off, the pumps at the very bottom of the boots gave him a little boost as it was but on the inside it quite literally felt like you were wearing a pair of high heels.

• You were starting to wonder just how tall Kars really was. Hell, you were starting to wonder if he even passed Santana in height without these boots on!

• Your laughter fell short as a familiar, much smaller, hand reached up and grabbed your new body by the scarf. You were hauled down to meet the burning and intense gaze of your own eyes, Kars snarling right up into his own face.

• Jeeze, had your face always looked that red when you got angry before?

• "If you speak of this to ANYONE, I will spill each and every one of your own secrets to the others," he growled lowly, giving your voice an uncharacteristically harsh and grating tone. "Am I clear?"

• It took all you had inside not to call him "shortie" once things were finally back to the way they were and you both settled back into your own bodies.

• Despite your curiosity, your question on his exact height would never get answered.

• Kars knew how to put those arm blades to use better than you of course...

Esidisi:

• Oh boy... you have to be VERY careful piloting this one.

• And I mean the absolute definition of careful!

• When your consciousness ends up transfered into Esidisi's body, its no surprise that you feel very warm and fuzzy on the inside.

• It's almost a feeling akin to when you sit just a little too long in a bath that's a little too hot.

• Strangely, it was actually kind of a comforting feeling amongst this whole ordeal.

• However, if you're not careful with your emotions (warm and fuzzy feeling or not) than you might just accidentally end up burning a hole right through the Earth!

• Or worse... end up spraying scalding hot blood and flaying fleshy veins dripping with the stuff in all directions.

• Your core temperature has to constantly be monitored or you'll pay the price.

• It seems like even if you unfocus for one singular second, the Pillarman's entire body starts to smolder like a cake burning in an oven!

• Esidisi, on the other hand, is actually quite enjoying being in your body.

• He's having a much better time than you are for sure. In fact, he's laughing like this is nothing more than a game to him!

• You'll have to keep your eyes on him because he can't keep his (or rather, your) hands off your body.

• "Esidisi!" You barked, the Pillarman's voice was like the clap of thunder as it raised in octave; clearing the air with its power and inevitably startling you (again) even though you were the one wielding it. "Get your hands out of there, right now!"

• Your command was met with laughter, you watched as a wide grin stretched across your own face as Esidisi pried your hands off of your behind (for the 3rd time) and tucked them neatly into your pockets as he continued to giggle to himself.

• "I wasn't doing anything~" he purred, making your voice sound uncannily like a bad child playing innocent, acting wasn't just caught squeezing your cake.

• He was being to curious for his own good.

• That and the fact that he's taking enjoyment out of little ordinary Human things while piloting your body

• Things like feeling actual pain when skin is pinched or when hair is pulled seemed like it could entertain him for hours on end.

• If you don't keep a close eye on him and his shenanigans, you might just end up getting your body back all banged and bruised up if he goes too far with his fun.

• Fair enough, as he might just get his back half-burned into the ground or covered in blood...

Wamuu:

• Wamuu straight up does NOT have a good time dealing with suddenly being Human.

• The fact that it's your body he's in doesn't help that any either.

• 12/10 would NOT do again. 0 STARS!

• Wamuu, always a composed and calculating Warrior and tactician, was now in full panic mode.

• All his life he carried himself with pride, building his little ego off all his strengths and victories because of his status and his incredible unmatchable power.

• Now, with all of that ripped away from him, the Warrior felt too vulnerable and naked for his liking in this Human form.

• "Ow! OW!!!" Wamuu cried, eyes wide as your hands flew to your back. "Why does it hurt there? Do you always have pain like this?" Came the question, it was more than strange (and a little unsettling) to hear your own voice asking you that so desperately.

• "You get used to it." You replied, the deepness of the Pillarman's voice sending deep vibrations through the hardened chest as you spoke.

• "Why-- Why does this body feel so sluggish? I feel so inexplicably weary..." "I know. You get used to that too." "WHY IS EVERYTHING SORE?! WHY IS EVERYTHING CREAKING?!" "It's fine. That's normal."

• On the other hand, your mind suddenly being swapped into Wamuu's body isn't quite as bad as being in the others but... there are still some things to get used to.

• For one thing, it was hard to get used to simply walking around in it.

• Wamuu was so immensely big, muscular and heavy that you felt as if you were shaking the Earth with each step, causing you to lumber and stumble around with no grace to speak of.

• For another, a wirlwind just seemed to follow you wherever you went. It was honestly harder to control than it looked!

• When you wanted it to move one way, it went another. Wind blew up, wind blew down.

• You found yourself standing around, massive hands flying to the loincloth in an attempt to keep it from flinging up and showing too much.

• You wanted to spare least a shred of Wamuu's lost dignity while he wasn't piloting his own body after all.

• His horn is an entirely different matter.

• At one point the breeze blew too strong and the Pillarmen's signature headpiece suddenly flew right off his head and then... out sprang the horn.

• It shot 18 feet into the air, skewering two trees and drilling right through them like an overcharged power drill; a terrifying whir filling the air as chunks of wood flayed in every direction.

• The entire time you screamed in terror (you had no idea Wamuu's voice could go so high until that moment), slicing through an entire plot of trees as Wamuu yelled for you to put it away before it went for something breathing... like your own body that he was currently inhabiting.

• In the end, the relief you both feel to be back in your own bodies once the entire mess is fixed is immeasurable.

• You also both agree to never speak of the experience again for as long as you live.

Santana:

• Much like Kars, Santana is more unimpressed about the whole thing rather than upset or worried.

• Apart from you of course, Santana just barely tolerated Humans (or Primitives as he liked to call them) as it was.

• He often spoke about how fragile and flawed your kind was, honestly the defenselessness of a Human was laughable in his eyes.

• Therefore, he absolutely does NOT like suddenly being reduced to one, even if it is your body.

• The entire time he's practically pouting, the very definition of apathetic, grumbling to himself and following close behind as you tried to chase down the person responsible for the swap.

• "This form is... limiting." Came the low growl, each word sounding so very unlike you despite the fact it was your voice he was using. Santana practically spat as he kept talking, "Flawed. Primal. Defenseless."

• You were handling things admittedly better than Santana but it was still more than overwhelming.

• For one thing, you'll come to find that Santana's senses are extremely heightened.

• You never realized how very unbelieveably strong a sense of smell, taste and hearing could be until now.

• You could smell animals that had passed through the area nearly a fortnight ago just by putting your nose to the air. You could hear the thumping of your own heart from where it sat back in your own chest as Santana followed close at your heels.

• For another thing... Santana's body felt... odd.

• It was a strange and indescribable feeling; it was best put as you felt like a substance that constantly balanced between solid and liquid.

• How on Earth could he stand being a living mass of puddy and sharp deadly bones all the time?!

• As Santana kept grumbling about how very imperfect his new form was, your only hope was to give him that huge bag of gummy bears you had been saving in your bag for later to snack on.

• It would give you a moment of silence to think straight. However, if Santana was himself that would've been a good idea but in this case... not so much.

• "What's wrong?" You questioned, the Pillarman's gravely voice holding a different tone than you were used to as you used it, studying him.

• Santana had suddenly stopped following and was now slumped over, clutching at your stomach. A low whine surfaced, almost a sob, as he spoke through clenched teeth.

• "Do.... not.... feel..... good." Came the whimper. You came rushing to his side, your temorary body dwarfing your real one as you pulled Santana close to see if he had somehow gotten hurt.

• "What--" the question fell short as you spied the now very empty bag of gummy bears laying nearby.

• That bag had been huge, filled to the brim with bright and colourful gushy candy... and Santana had eaten ALL of them.

• It was that day that Santana found out that a Humans biggest flaw was that too much sugar made them sick.

• Good luck with enjoying getting your body back when the time comes as you now suspected you would spend your time kneeled over a bucket with a hot water bottle instead of celebrating...

[astradrifting]

 AGOT - Jon I (Chapter 5)

There were times—not many, but a few—when Jon Snow was glad he was a bastard. As he filled his wine cup once more from a passing flagon, it struck him that this might be one of them.

I don’t know why D&D decided Jon could never lie, when literally the first line in his POV is a lie. He’s so good at it he can even lie to himself!

****

A singer was playing the high harp and reciting a ballad, but down at this end of the hall his voice could scarcely be heard above the roar of the fire, the clangor of pewter plates and cups, and the low mutter of a hundred drunken conversations.

A singer with a high harp and a ballad seems like a vague Rhaegar allusion. That Jon can’t actually hear him makes me happy in a very petty way.

****

His lord father had come first, escorting the queen. She was as beautiful as men said. A jeweled tiara gleamed amidst her long golden hair, its emeralds a perfect match for the green of her eyes. His father helped her up the steps to the dais and led her to her seat, but the queen never so much as looked at him. Even at fourteen, Jon could see through her smile.

I think this part is actually Jon being indignant on Ned’s behalf that Cersei was rude to him, by not looking at him when he escorts her, not that she never looked at Jon. Also, there’s those observation skills. He’s never been taken in by a pretty smile.

****

After them came the children. Little Rickon first, managing the long walk with all the dignity a three-year-old could muster. Jon had to urge him on when he stopped to visit.

Adorable!!!

****

Jon noticed the shy looks she gave Robb as they passed between the tables and the timid way she smiled at him. He decided she was insipid. Robb didn’t even have the sense to realize how stupid she was; he was grinning like a fool.

Jon’s a mean drunk I guess 💀

****

Sansa, two years older, drew the crown prince, Joffrey Baratheon. He was twelve, younger than Jon or Robb, but taller than either, to Jon’s vast dismay. Prince Joffrey had his sister’s hair and his mother’s deep green eyes. A thick tangle of blond curls dripped down past his golden choker and high velvet collar. Sansa looked radiant as she walked beside him, but Jon did not like Joffrey’s pouty lips or the bored, disdainful way he looked at Winterfell’s Great Hall.

Joffrey according to Jon: 👁👄👁

But Sansa looked radiant 🥰

****

He was more interested in the pair that came behind him: the queen’s brothers, the Lannisters of Casterly Rock. The Lion and the Imp; there was no mistaking which was which. Ser Jaime Lannister was twin to Queen Cersei; tall and golden, with flashing green eyes and a smile that cut like a knife. He wore crimson silk, high black boots, a black satin cloak. On the breast of his tunic, the lion of his House was embroidered in gold thread, roaring its defiance. They called him the Lion of Lannister to his face and whispered “Kingslayer” behind his back. Jon found it hard to look away from him.

This is what a king should look like, he thought to himself as the man passed.

Giving me big ‘muscled like a maiden’s fantasy’ vibes there, Jon.

Also, curiously enough Jaime’s introduced wearing black and red, Targaryen colours. Maybe a nod to the incest storyline, possibly leftover foreshadowing from when Jaime was going to become king, as per the outline.

Otherwise this means that, like everybody else in this story, Jaime is a secret Targaryen. He and Cersei can join the ranks of Jon, Tyrion, Varys, Mance Rayder and while we’re at it… *spins a wheel of names* Meera too.

****

His brothers and sisters had not been permitted to bring their wolves to the banquet, but there were more curs than Jon could count at this end of the hall, and no one had said a word about his pup. He told himself he was fortunate in that too.

His eyes stung. Jon rubbed at them savagely, cursing the smoke.

Jon spends half this chapter on the verge of tears, my angsty little lad.

****

Jon looked up happily as his uncle Ben put a hand on his head and ruffled his hair much as Jon had ruffled the wolf’s.

They actually call him Ben and ‘uncle Ben’ a few times in the series, which I honestly think might be a Spider-Man allusion. Surrogate father figure Uncle Ben’s early disappearance/death kicking off the plot… There’s also a saying that nobody stays dead in comics except for Uncle Ben - considering all the other resurrections in the books, metaphorical and literal, yet GRRM says that Benjen isn’t Coldhands, it might be the same for this Uncle Ben too.

****

Jon swelled with pride. “Robb is a stronger lance than I am, but I’m the better sword, and Hullen says I sit a horse as well as anyone in the castle.”

"[Garlan] is a great knight," Ser Loras replied. "A better sword than me, in truth, though I'm the better lance." (ASOS, Sansa I)

Love a Jon-Garlan parallel! Also thinking about Garlan being the older brother made me realise - in the story everyone thinks that Jon is younger than Robb, but timeline-wise, he has to be older, because Robb was conceived in the two weeks before Ned left to fight at the Trident, and Rhaegar must have at least already been in the capital by then to rally the loyalists, so Jon was conceived weeks, if not months earlier. Which means that Ned has definitely lied about when Jon’s birthday is.

Jon being the product of a ‘youthful indiscretion’ before he was married is less of a stain on Ned’s honour than him betraying his marriage bed but I imagine Catelyn’s fears about Jon usurping her children might have had more basis if he was known to be the eldest, so maybe that’s why Ned lied about how old he is.

****

“Daeron Targaryen was only fourteen when he conquered Dorne,” Jon said. The Young Dragon was one of his heroes. 

"A conquest that lasted a summer," his uncle pointed out. "Your Boy King lost ten thousand men taking the place, and another fifty trying to hold it. Someone should have told him that war isn't a game." He took another sip of wine. "Also," he said, wiping his mouth, "Daeron Targaryen was only eighteen when he died. Or have you forgotten that part?"

Jon is unfortunately, a jock. And a bit of an idiot. 

There’s something about Jon’s hero dying at 18, Waymar dying at 18 just a few chapters ago... Jon has them all beat by dying at 17.

****

"You are a boy of fourteen," Benjen said. "Not a man, not yet. Until you have known a woman, you cannot understand what you would be giving up."

"I don't care about that!" Jon said hotly.

"You might, if you knew what it meant," Benjen said. "If you knew what the oath would cost you, you might be less eager to pay the price, son."

Jon felt anger rise inside him. "I'm not your son!"

Benjen Stark stood up. “More’s the pity.”

Establishing Benjen as a somewhat contentious father figure to Jon - even more fuel for my brand new Uncle Ben ‘theory’.

****

The wolf pup padded closer and nuzzled at Jon's face, but he kept a wary eye on Tyrion Lannister, and when the dwarf reached out to pet him, he drew back and bared his fangs in a silent snarl. 

"Shy, isn't he?" Lannister observed.

"Sit, Ghost," Jon commanded. "That's it. Keep still." He looked up at the dwarf. "You can touch him now. He won't move until I tell him to. I've been training him."

Possibly he and Sansa are the only ones who properly trained their direwolves, considering how the rest of them will end up behaving.

****

“If I wasn’t here, he’d tear out your throat,” Jon said. It wasn’t actually true yet, but it would be.

Pffffft! Edgy edgy edge-lord 💀

Though I also always feel like issuing casual threats to Tyrion Lannister so I can’t really blame him.

****

Standing, he was taller than the dwarf. It made him feel strange.

He’s got a weird preoccupation with comparing his height to Lannister men in this chapter. My headcanon for the books is that Jon’s quite tall by ADWD but evidently he’s tiny in AGOT if he feels strange being tall next to a dwarf.

****

final thoughts:

Believe it or not, I didn’t actually have Jonsa in mind with my new Uncle Ben theory, but I did just remember that brown haired Peter Parker’s main love interest is red-haired MJ :P

[heleneplays]

You'll remain here (You'll remain dear inside)

LITERALLY FUCK ME I GUESS. SPENT THIS WHOLE DAY DOING NOTHING BUT WRITE FOR THE BLORBOS AND YOU KNOW WHAT. IDC. IT'S WORTH IT. THEY'RE WORTH IT.

anyways this are parts of the besties' pov, because I have unresolved feelings and half baked personifications of them screaming at me to write!!! them!!! down!!! so i am blaming my own issues but also James bc SIR. augh. my love for your goddamn blorbos is terminal and i succumb gladly :(

ok but honestly i was originally just going to write a meta fic of Helene actually becoming a self-aware character, that her choices were all predetermined, that it was a game etc etc on the second part but HEY things happen and next thing i know i wrote like 10k words instead of her choosing to fuck the narrative that good things have a price, and love is always enough in this three (?) part series of the endgame that never is, was, and hopefully never will be!!!!!!

ANYWAYS

forgot to say but stream GODSENT by BEN&BEN LIKE AUGH PLEASE.

again, María x Helene, but arching POVs from Sam, Cleo, Esme, Rémy, Zhu, and Dominique in the start of it all <3

---

Helene died, cradled in María's arms. They saw her breathe her last, focused on nothing but the woman who held her.

Sam almost wants to be bitter at that moment, because she'd gone and left, and her eyes never strayed. She didn't notice anyone else, had no other words to say except for María, and then they remember.

("It's always been her, Sam." She whispers, smiling brokenly as she stares straight ahead.)

So instead, they turn that bitterness into one part grief, nine parts wonder because throughout their adventures, the woman they consider their idol-turned-mentor-turned-friend was still as true to their heart, even in the face of broken dreams of the future, in the face of death.

---

"It feels like i'm playing God, when I hold these things in my hand." She whispers.

Sam remembers the island. Of how the Carxite podium held her, gripped her. The way inhuman rage looked at her, and how she ordered the island's defenses to activate.

Sam remembers the ozone smell, like fresh struck thunder; of vision of half-melted bodies of her enemies, of all the Nazis who set their boots into the shore.

Sam remembers calling out for her, and her cruel reply; remembers the light in her eyes gone, replaced with a dead-eyed imposter in her place sneering with cold contempt.

Of her breaking out of it, as they approached her, and as María, even then, stared at the woman with no ounce of fear.

Then Sam thinks about the silver-eyed goddess who stood in that place just moments ago, radiant with power, untouchable, but alive in the way the first one forgot; of how they snapped their fingers, and used the stone's powers like a familiar extension of their limb—not to kill everyone like she did then—but to delibitate and injure her enemies enough to stop them from interfering.

(Of how María, themselves, Belby, and in extension, the rest of their team shot Heidi Hahn in cold blood as Helene turned her wiles against the slippery snake beforehand.)

And of how they decisively struck down, with no measure of mercy, the other woman who made this endgame happen.

(Because if Sabine Schneider never found about the Archive, never subscribed to the Aryan ideals, never descended into a madness so familiar, then this clash of titans would have perhaps never borne fruit.)

(Atleast, Sam would like to think so.)

---

"Of all the people you included for this deathride of a mission, I didn't think you'd be the one to die, Helene."

---

Cleo looks at the woman she just helped lay down the couch, then towards Esme who was looking at Helene with a curious gaze. She looks as heartbreak settles in the woman's eyes, but not grief. She's seen enough people in the entirety of this war mourn and break into grief, but Esme seems to just breeze past that and go straight to acceptance.

Cleo feels discombobulated.

"It doesn't feel right, no?" The blonde's crisp tone shakes her out of stupor. The woman would be embarassed at being caught staring, but she's kind of past that.

"I don't—I mean, She is—" Cleo starts, trying to give words to her thoughts. Esme understands though.

"The first time I met her, I knew she was a star. She burned so fierce and brightly that day that she and my..." Esme shakes her head, voice pained but a broken smile painting her lips. "the day she and I met. Did you know we met during her dig in Jerusalem in '34? We crossed paths outside the Colony, and I felt something was about to happen after a brief moment our gazes met. Not even 10 minutes later, she was running out the Grand Salon, Nazis on her heels after she pissed them off— Next thing I knew, I was out there with the shattered remains of a pot, saving her from certain death by gunshot after she got herself cornered by one."

"I knew Spillane was a bit of a disaster, but to hear that she's just like that since then—"

"Oh no, don't get me wrong, Helene's a great big daredevil, but I was kind of a foolhardy self-proclaimed adventurer then, dragging Abdul all over the place, then it just clicked, you know? I do so hate bullies, and that day... made things clearer. Somehow."

"I kind of get it. She's a trailblazer, with almost 0 regards to conventional boundaries of society, then she drags you along for the ride."

"I went there willingly, i'll have you know!"

"Oh yeah? Well I was the one dragging her through it first!"

Both women look at each other, and laugh. It's painful, and others would say a touch hysterical, but it's something true, a release.

---

"I did her wrong, kinda a lot. Is it selfish of me to wish she was back, so I can apologize for some of the things I did?"

Esme keeps quiet for a few moments, before she replies.

"Helene got my man killed, you know. In '38, during that quest for that man looking for his ancestor's grave."

Cleo turns to look at her, shocked.

"I'm sorry, that's unkind." Esme sighs, but continues.

"It's just partly her fault. This... cult, they attacked our home because Helene was there, because I missed an adventure and it was a perfect excuse to get to see her. We were down to one floor, trying to survive, and it was a bloodbath, because their members so many, then Sam was clobbered down, and then Helene had to make a choice between me and Abdul."

Cleo wanted to ask so many things, but kept quiet.

"It was a split second, and I saw her looking at Abdul, thinking that my honeybear was going to be the one she saves, because to be quite honest, those two are more alike than I really would like to admit. And I was okay, I was ready for death because I love him, I loved him, I loved Abdul Al-Maliki, and I was alright as long as he lived—"

"But she chose you, instead."

"She did. And I wanted to hate her, because she saved me, instead of him, my light and the reason I loved so freely—And for a while, I did."

A slow smile curls into her face.

"I hated her. For all 10 seconds of it."

Cleo wants to be shocked. But she can't. Helene was, fundamentally, never unlikeable. She may be a clown at times, infuriating and stubborn; but never unlikeable.

(It's like a power of hers, they think. Helene has a great capacity to befriend people, soothe tempers, and charm others.)

(But she also was unflinching, unabashed, and unremorseful, especially against her enemies.)

"Helene has a great capacity for love. I was privelleged to part a small part of her heart, along with Abdul, and it was that part that I think, that gave her the instinct to save me. Love is not quantifiable by any means, but I think, Abdul told her just how far the depths go, and that moment made her choose differently."

Esme clenches her fist.

"I didn't understand then, but looking at how María held her, God, how she broke—She asked for my forgiveness before we left for this, y'know? I said I forgave her then, even if I didn't know why. Because even if his death hurts, he tried, she tried, and that's all I can really ask for."

(Abdul is a kind, good, gentle man. Slow to anger, with an infinite well of love. Helene is a kind, somewhat good, gentle woman. Slow to anger, with an infinite well of love.)

(Demons run when good men go to war.)

(So what would good women make run when they go to war?)

(Everything. Everyone.)

---

"You're right. Helene being dead feels surreal, because she survived far worse things. Most of which were my fault, because I kept omitting parts of the truth."

Cleo says after a while. She closes her eyes, thinking about every adventure she shared with the woman.

New Orleans. Congo. Romita. Kuzco.

All adventures fraught with deep, heavy things. Goddamned Racists, secret Nazis and murderous Natives, a Cannibalist group, and again, even more Nazis, except this time not-so-secret.

"I should be dead, to be honest. All the way back from Congo."

Cleo takes a deep breath.

"Our story starts in New Orleans, like I told you. She invited me to do a guest lecture in her fine, prissy, whites-only college, because she was like that; and we attracted the attention of the local Ku Klux Klan because of it. Things happened, and I dragged her to solve a mystery, we solved it only to get captured; she got lightly tortured for our troubles, almost maimed by a dog and then a croc. Then I invited her to Congo, she accepted, omitted that the jungle locals were growing more agressive, stumbled to a Nazi conspiracy, got captured, AGAIN, almost got branded as slaves, DID work one shift as one, staged a coup, overthrew the local soldier garrison... THEN HAD TO STAGE ANOTHER BATTLE YET AGAIN, but we survived; hell, we lived!"

Her hands shake, imperceptibly.

"We lived because she sent Sam and our guide, Jeff, with me, and she braved the north side alone with her part of the troops until we had to regroup as one, and then she saved me, while I was lying prone on my back, about to get skewered by their bayonets; but there she was, like an avenging little angel, smoking gun being reloaded faster than I could comprehend. And all I did get to say was thanks, because our adventure wasn't done, and after it all she was just—"

Cleo smiles, thinking about the Helene who literally flopped down on a bed and slept 48 hours straight.

"She went straight to sleep, heedless of everything else, didn't she?"

"Yeah."

They both take a second to collect themselves. Then Cleo continues.

"The next time we met was months after that, but she waved me off, getting me a drink 'til we went home drunk, and then I didn't talk to her about it again, and see her in person until Romita. I can't tell you want happened in Kuzco, but God, Romita? That place was a hundred ways more personal and fucked up than the whole back-to-back siege in Congo, because that... the monsters we encountered there? Truly Inhuman."

Cleo twists her fingers, trying not to remember the way her student flinched away from her, scared and emaciated; of the broken body of the girl, Mina–no, Stefania, flying down to the earth, and the crunch that followed after her self-made descent off the ravine.

(She tries to keep the chilling image of Ariadne Stokes smiling at them beforehand out of her mind, and shivers as she tried to think of what monster Helene faced. Because the ravenette was so silent and withdrawn afterwards, and she wouldn't speak of anything that transpired, even prodded.)

"Alone." Cleo says, and Esme searches her face, trying to understand. Then it clicks.

"You left her alone."

A statement, not a question.

"Yes. I'm not proud of it, but I've left her more times than I should have, all these years."

"...I won't ask why, or tell you what you should feel, because that's yours alone." Esme finally says, after a while. "But I'd like to think she's forgiven you anyways. She did that, kind of a lot."

"...Yeah, I know. I want to think that too."

---

"You saved... kinda a lot of asses, Spillane. But nobody's ever been able to save you, when it mattered."

"No, someone did."

And their gaze slides towards María, who's still looking out the window and into the empty night sky, looking for something only she could see.

---

Rémy can count on one hand the times he'd been out of words. As a learned man, he never had a lack of them, loving the way his voice sounds, especially at the throes of passion.

But hearing that his dear friend, the woman who dared him, once upon a time, to fuck one of his paramours in the top of the Eiffel, has been lost. Well, people can forgive him for not gracing them with his presence, right?

("You, you, you fiendish Frenchman!" Helene shakes with indignance, trying to pummel your back with her tiny fists as you carry her on your shoulder.)

(You laugh, real and deep. "Oh yes, I am a fiend, and I am indeed French! Congratulations on your astute observation, chérie." This is one of the many times you've met after a seminar, but the first you've seen the professional woman crack. Who knew all it took was getting her drunk and embarrassed?)

("Augh, damn you. The only person who should be handling me like this is Spanish and she's farrrrrr more cuter than you, Fournier!" She declares, and you almost colide with a post.)

("Well, well, well! Sounds like a juicy tale, Chérie! You should tell me all about it!")

("No." She pouts, and you feel her tense. "Talking about her makes me sad. And I don't like that.")

(You want to press, but it slips your mind, because the next moment, she's out like a light.)

Miles grimaces beside him, bone deep weariness hitting in the moment the news hits.

"—o can you guys come pick everyone here up?"

"Oui, hang on tight. We'll get the island secured."

---

"How does it go again? Ah, yes. Too rich for use, for Earth too dear."

---

Zhu feels numb, as he sits quietly on his perch, just back from staring from the corpse of his friend.

("You are better than this, Jian Zhu, and you better listen to someone who knows and believes that there IS a goodness that exists within you, with all that want to be a better man! It starts that this moment, by acknowledging that this is bigger than you, than Kao, than everything else you've planned for revenge; So please—" Her voice is five parts pleading, five parts command, and oh. There it is. "Please stay, and help me finish this once and for all.")

(It's at this precise moment you knew you'd come to the ends of the earth with her, for her.)

("Okay." You whisper. "Okay." You say again, more full, more forceful. Because you know your need is selfish, is stupid, but Helene understands, and she knows better than anyone else a part of your story now, and all she asks for is this time, to help her save the world.)

(And you couldn't disobey, even if you tried. Because she is part of your absolution, and you will be a supplicant for her earnest devotion, the same way you feel her protégé(?) does as they cling to her.)

(Helene Spillane may physically be the smallest woman in the room, but the magnitude of her presence fills her with unnatural grace and strength that she dons on and off as she pleases, like a cloak.)

---

"...I'm not surprised, because I know how far devotion can run. I... I understand."

---

Dominique has had some of the shittiest days lately. It nearly tops the moment they uncovered the camps, but—

Helene is still, and if they close their eyes, they could swear the woman was just sleeping, the way she was no less than 48 hours ago, deep in the jungle wilds while in Japan.

It looked deep, you thought, with the way she was so still; but the brief rest didn't last, and she handily opened her eyes to stare towards you, unseeing yet, but her hands flying to the throwing knife hidden in her side at a blink of an eye.

Then awareness fills them, and you shake you head, opting to get her to prepare instead.

(So no, denial is a bad look on you.)

It doesn't feel real, the assault on the fortress taking almost instantaneously after their mission, after a brief hour or two to get ready with tools and wait for the team to be assembled. Then the bloodbath, of fighting the ground troops, teaming up in several pairs because manpower, time, and the path to the end is limited, and you all needed to make sure the assault is fast and efficient for the world, the fate of the world hangs in this one mission, and you loathe to think the end of it fails.

You don't want to fail. Death is inevitable, and you are nonetheless proud for being included in this ragtag bunch of people fighting for a better tomorrow. Included in the imposible last defense of this mystical mumbo-jumbo, because of course alien and magical powers are goddamn real.

(Fires blaze in your heart as Helene makes the final rounds for one last time before the endgame starts. Final goodbyes were already said awhile ago, and everyone tenses in anticipation.)

(In a better world, you think, Helene would have made a great motivational speaker.)

(And then you snort. Because Helene actually hates speaking in front of a crowd, and most, if not all her extroverted tendencies were a front. You'd know, because for all the showmanship you've done for the sake of your career, part of it was just for you to show off your skills in a relatively anonymous manner.)

(Show a clown to the circus, and get your bread and gold, and all that jazz.)

You're going to miss her, you think. You look around and spot Sam cringing on the side, trying their best to patch themselves up with one hand.

And you can't help but sigh, because the woman you observed who'd have patted their head and give them a noogie before doing the patch-up themselves is gone.

(And never coming back...)

---

"Our time was brief, but hey, we always had fun, didn't we Helene my dear?"

---

They say death is the end.

---

Helene is dead.

And then she wakes up.

There are many questions to be answered. But looking into her eyes, even though something inside has fundamentally shifted, something added, something lost; it's still her.

So they hold off, and take the gift as it is.

---

The word of her death does not spread far. Everyone else agreed to keep it under wraps, the cost of victory still too raw, too dear to talk about.

They settle on half of a lie, that yes, she was briefly gone; but life-saving maneuvers got her back.

But everyone in that island remembers. Her friends; her chosen family— something will forever be changed, because they knew the finality, had lived it, and mourned it, however briefly; before she went and changed all the rules.

(Helene loves to defy expectations. This happening is no other. Everyone is safe, and it's free real estate.)

And because of it, they will all have the chance to talk, really talk, and a chance for a future. Altogether.

---

Helene sits in a bench under the shade. Silver strands caress her face as the wind shifts, blowing a gentle breeze against her face.

Beside her, María sits, saying nothing aside from quietly slipping her hand into hers, and squeezing it. A stray beam dapples from the trees, making the golden bands on their fingers glint in the fading light.

"Do you have any regrets, Helene?"

"Before? During? or After?"

"In any of them."

Helene is quiet, as she is most days. But María has grown to be patient, because love is kind, and makes better fools of them both.

"No."

Short and succinct, with a finality in her tone.

(María, as most of the years that have passed, had grown to understand her new language.)

"Okay. Me either."

And silence reigns.

It’s a loaded but comfortable silence, their two hearts beating as one, and for that moment, everything is enough.

---

"Hey, María?"

"Yes, Helene?"

"Do you know I love you?"

"Yes. Do you?"

"Know that you love me?"

"Yeah, that."

"I don't need to know. I always felt it."

"Even after all I put you through?"

"Even then. Even now. Forever will, and even then."

"How?"

"You're a masterful liar, María, but you can't fool someone like me."

The book snaps shut. And she looks down on her lap, where Helene lies as she wants.

"And what is 'like you', huh?"

Helene looks up at her, eyes bright, and ever so full of love.

"Someone who knows. Someone who sees. Someone who percieves."

She says, quietly, but confidently. Then the brunette shifts, bringing herself up, so different in the time she lied there unmoving, craded in the redhead's arms. And she cups her face in her small, warm hands, and brings herself close, close eneough that they can see the flecks in their irises; of the yellow and gold intersped in María's hazel, and the subtle silver that settled in Helene's dark, grey-brown.

"Most importantly, Someone who loves..." she whispers. "you."

(María kisses her, and it's heady, sweet, and everything Helene ever needs.)

---

"Why did you come back?"

"...Because I wanted to."

"And it's enough?"

You understand that she speaks from a fear, a fear that you'll abandon her for your chase of power. The fear of being left alone, because you already left this mortal coil once, and something hums in you, calling for the void.

You can't explain in words, so you capture her in a kiss. And then try.

"I fought the universe itself to come back here because I believed, María. I believed in humanity, in myself, and the people here I do so love."

"That doesn't answer if it's enough." She answers, her grip tighter at the second.

Am I enough, she what she really asks.

It should hurt, after all these years, this doubt; but instead, it teethers you. And you blink, and everything finally slots into place. So you match her, and hold her close.

You smile.

"I love you, María."

You are enough, is your reply.

[twst-bs]

I read your works and immediately fall in love. Can you make an dorm leader witness their s/o gamble (like they didn't know their s/o is a king/queen of gamble similar to kakegurui?). If you comfortable with this request...

Thank you~

Ah, thank you so much! I'm glad you like my writing.

The reason I took so long writing this is because I actually decided to watch Kakegurui out of curiosity and got really sucked into it, haha!

I hope this was worth the wait!

-----

Riddle: Card playing wasn’t an unusual occurrence in the Heartslabyul lounge. On any given night, students would gather around in groups and play anything from Old Maid to blackjack.

What was unusual was for Riddle to see the Ramshackle Prefect amongst them.

Well, maybe he shouldn’t have been so shocked. Between their friendship with Ace and Deuce, and their own relationship, they were basically a member of Heartslabyul anyway. Maybe it was more of the fact that they felt welcome enough to simply waltz into the dorm and make themself at home.

“Oh, hey, Riddle!” they smiled when they saw him. “Do you want to play too?”

“Dorm Leader Roseheart doesn’t usually join,” Deuce chimed in, peering down at his hand of cards. Riddle cleared his throat, causing all three of them to look up.

“He’s right, typically I stay out of the games and watch for rule-breakers. However,” he felt his face get warm, and he had to look away from the three sets of curious eyes fixed on him. “I wouldn’t mind sitting in and watching, if you’ll have me.”

“Of course!” the Prefect scooted over on the floor, completely ignoring the slightly stricken looks that Ace and Deuce were giving them. Riddle, trying to maintain some amount of grace despite his face being as red as a rose, carefully sat himself between Ace and the Prefect.

“What are you playing?”

“Poker!” they replied cheerfully as the game resumed. “I’m not so sure about my skills, though.”

“Whatever,” Ace shrugged. “Poker’s more the luck of the draw anyway. Deuce, are you gonna call or just keep trying to stare holes through your cards?”

“Shut up, Ace,” Deuce shot back. “I’ll call.”

Deuce placed two gold coins in the middle, and Riddle raised an eyebrow. “You know there’s rules against betting money -”

“They’re chocolate, Dorm Head, it’s legal.” Ace laughed. “Do you think we’re stupid enough to blatantly break the rules in front of you?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

“Not particularly.”

“Alright, we good?” the Prefect asked. “I want to eat my chocolate.”

Deuce was the first to show his hand. “Three of a kind.”

Ace went next. “Two pairs. What do you have, Prefect?”

With a grin, they laid down their cards. “Straight flush.”

“You jerk!” Ace laughed. “You were playing us the whole time, weren’t you?”

“That’s part of the fun, isn’t it?” they stuck their tongue out at him, gathering the small mountain of chocolate coins. “Pleasure doing business with you, boys.”

“Man, you wiped the floor with us,” Deuce sighed. “You’re way too good at hiding your reactions.”

“Or you’re just really bad at reading them.” Ace smirked.

“Whatever.”

“Hey, Riddle,” the Prefect leaned over while the other two continued bickering. “Look who showed up to help me win.”

With a grin, they held up a card between their index and middle finger. The Queen of Hearts.

Riddle laughed softly. “The Queen treats her favorite subjects well.”

Leona: “Come on, Ruggie!”

“No way! I saw it first, it’s not my fault you’re slow!”

“You almost tripped me to get to it first, you little -”

Leona growled, cutting through the two’s argument. “Quit yelling or I’m eating the damn sandwich.” he didn’t even lift his head from where he had pillowed it on his arms. The lion really could sleep anywhere, even the lunch table.

“Okay, fine, here,” the Prefect dug around in their pocket. “We’ll flip a coin for it. Heads, you get the sandwich, tails, I get the sandwich.”

“Fine, fine, whatever.” Despite his words, Ruggie was grinning. “Flip it.”

The coin they pulled out made a satisfying

noise as they flicked it into the air. They caught it, slapping it down on the back of their hand. “Ready?”

“Quit with the dramatics, I’m hungry!”

They stuck their tongue out at him, lifting their hand. “Tails! It’s my sandwich!”

“Damn it!” Ruggie snarled, but there was no real malice behind it. “Fine, I hope it’s rotten.” he got up to go get himself something else to eat.

As Ruggie stomped off, Leona turned his head to lazily raise an eyebrow at his mate. “Never really took you for a risk taker, herbivore.”

“How can I be dating a literal predator and not like a little risk?”

“Fair point.” Leona yawned. “You’re still going to give him some of that sandwich, aren’t you.”

“Yeah,” they were already ripping the thing in half. “He did actually get there before me, I just got lucky that his little tripping plot launched me closer to the front.”

Leona clicked his tongue. "So this was your idea of revenge?"

"Just keeping things interesting!"

Azul: No one was surprised when the mermaid mafia decided to run a gambling den.

Well, it wasn't a true gambling den, because it wasn't real money being wagered. Azul, always profit-minded, sold tokens to students that could be exchanged for specialty items at Mostro Lounge. That one night a week brought in considerable revenue for them.

"Hey, Azu~l!"

Said octopus looked up from the papers he was looking over in his office. "What is it, Floyd?"

"You'll never guess who is here tonight." Floyd grinned, showing all of his teeth. "Go on, guess!"

"I haven't the faintest-"

"It's Shrimpy!" Floyd laughed. "Shrimpy game to gamble tonight!"

Azul blinked, trying to figure out if Floyd was messing with him or not. "They actually came?"

Of course, he had invited his partner multiple times, but usually they were so bogged down with homework and other people's problems that they couldn't make it.

Floyd nodded. "They look like they're having fun! You should come out of your hidey-hole and come see!"

Floyd slammed the door shut without waiting for a reply. With a slightly irritated sigh, Azul straightened the papers and shoved them into a drawer. He wasn't fond of sharing his time with his partner with other people, but both of them were so busy that he had to take what he could get.

There was an unusually large crowd gathered around one of the tables - he could even see the twins towering over everybody, watching the game in progress.

"My, what have we here?" He made his way to the twins' side, attempting to get a glimpse of the action.

"Our dear Prefect is putting on quite the show," Jade chuckled lightly. "Perhaps we should have them come in more often."

"Oh, you actually came out!" Floyd exclaimed before turning around, cupping his hands around his mouth. "Hey, Shrimpy! Azul's here!"

They startled slightly at Floyd’s sudden volume, but when their eyes landed on Azul, they smiled. They sent him a wave with the hand that wasn’t holding the dice, and he tried not to look too shy as he waved back. Sometimes just seeing them was enough to get his heart rate up, but he had an image to uphold.

The Prefect tossed the dice, and they clattered against the wood of the table. The crowd surrounding them seemed to hold its collective breath as they waited for the Octavinelle student acting as the rule enforcer looked over.the two sets of dice.

“Ten-nine, to the Ramshackle Prefect!”

The crowd erupted into cheers. Azul joined in before he could stop himself, and Jade smirked at him knowingly.

“You’re allowed to be happy for your partner, Azul.”

“Shut up.”

“Azul!”

Speak of the devil. The Prefect made their way through the crowd, positively beaming as they held onto their bag of tokens.

“Well, it seems you’ve been busy.” he commented as they came to a stop at his side.

“Guess luck is on my side today!” they laughed, wrapping their arms around his neck in a hug.

No matter how many times they did it, it still caught Azul off guard, and he still had to fight down a nervous laugh as they let go.

“I was saving these tokens for two slices of the special blueberry cake.” they grinned, jingling the bag so the coins clinked together.

“Why two?”

“So we could both have some!”

“You know you could have just asked and I would have saved some for us for later,” Azul raised an eyebrow. “You do get some perks for being the manager’s partner.”

“Yeah,” they shrugged, already turning towards the price counter. “But it’ll taste so much sweeter since I got it by wiping the floor with those cocky Savanaclaw bastards.”

Kalim: “What’s that game over there?”

The Prefect followed to where Kalim was pointing. “Looks like roulette.”

There was a fair going on near NRC, and the students had been given permission to go as long as they were back in their dorms by curfew. Kalim, practically vibrating with excitement, had begged them to come with him and Jamil. It was the three of them for a while, until Ace and Floyd found Jamil and basically dragged him over to the hoops game. The Prefect promised they would keep Kalim safe.

“What’s roulette?” Kalim was staring at the big wheel like it was hypnotizing him.

“It’s a betting game,” they explained. “You pick a color and a number, and the caller spins the wheel. If it lands on your guess, you win the money.”

“That sounds like fun!” Kalim grinned, before he seemed to remember something. “Ah, but I’m not allowed to gamble. It’s not a good look for House Asim.”

“Well that’s kind of boring.”

“Right?”

“Well,” the Prefect hummed. “How about we play our own version. We each pick a color, and whoever’s color gets picked wins! Loser pays for ice cream.”

“Alright, you’re on!” he laughed. “You pick first.”

“Okay, I’ll go with black.”

Kalim nodded. “That means I’m red, right?”

“Yup!”

The wheel began to spin, and the two of them watched over the heads of the actual participants. Both of them stood on their tip toes as the wheel began to slow.

“Hey, it stopped on red!” Kalim cheered, pumping his fist in the air. “That means I won!”

“Yup! Congrats!” the Prefect laughed as the two of them kept walking. “Looks like I’m paying for ice cream.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, I’ll pay.” Kalim said dismissively.

“Huh? But I lost.”

“I had fun!” he beamed. ”So let me thank you!”

Vil: “Do I even want to know?”

The Ramshackle Prefect was always getting up to some sort of shenanigans, but they weren’t usually so bold about it. This time, however, they were proudly striding out of the Pomfiore lounge with a zip-loc bag of mismatched eyeshadow pots and tubes of lipstick.

“We were playing cards.” they smiled up at Vil, who simply raised a well-groomed eyebrow.

“That doesn’t explain your goodie bag there.”

“Well, we couldn’t gamble with actual money,” they shrugged. “So Epel suggested apple chips, but then we ate all of those, so we decided to bet makeup instead. Epel let me have some of the stuff you gave him so I could play, and, wow, did I luck out!”

They opened up the bag and pulled out some name-brand purple eyeshadow. “I could never afford this stuff, honestly! Maybe you should have a talk with your dorm members about not betting things they aren’t willing to lose.”

“They have to learn their lesson somehow,” Vil sighed. “Be careful, potato, gambling can lead to some ugly habits.”

“I don’t do it often, I promise!” they smiled. “It’s mainly for fun!”

“And humiliating my dorm members.”

“Like I said, fun!”

Idia: “Which one, which one, which one…”

The Ramshackle Prefect had been watching Idia agonize over this decision for the better part of twenty minutes. It was starting to get a little old.

“You really are invested in this one, aren’t you?”

Idia didn’t bother turning to face them. “I HAVE to get this card, it's a limited edition UR+ with a swimsuit costume. This is my last shot, I’m out of gems after this.”

“Isn’t it a random chance though?” they asked, kicking their feet idly from where they sat on Idia’s bed. “How are you going to be able to tell which loot box it’s in?”

“Nerd sense.”

“Then why didn’t you use nerd sense for the past nine pulls?”

Idia groaned softly, staring intensely at the screen. “Which one?”

“Oh for-” the Prefect hopped off of the bed and leaned against Idia’s back to be able to reach the mouse. “I’m picking for you.”

“W-Wait, don’t-”

They clicked on the middle loot box before Idia could protest too much. The box rumbled around, building suspense, and Idia almost started crying.

Then, suddenly, with a bright flash and a triumphant fanfare, the card was revealed.

“...Are you a god?”

With a sparkling animation surrounding it, the coveted UR+ card blazed across the screen. The colors danced across Idia’s shocked face, making his pale face look rainbow.

“Nerd sense.” they laughed, pecking him on the cheek.

“You joke, but I think you do actually have some sort of psychic powers.”

Malleus: “It takes bravery to play a game of chance with a fae, you know.”

There was a warning in his words, but the sparkle in Malleus’ eyes told the Prefect that he was actually looking forward to the human’s antics.

“I trust you.” the human grinned. “If you wanted to steal my soul or whatever, you would have done it by now.”

“Such confidence,” Malleus chuckled. “Alright, Child of Man, what game shall we play?”

“A guessing game!” they held their hands behind their back as the two of them walked down the cobblestone path that led into the graveyard surrounding Ramshackle. “Just guess which hand the coin is in. You’ll get a prize if you win.”

“Oh? What am I playing for?”

“You’ll have to win to find out!”

Malleus was beginning to wonder if the Ramshackle Prefect wasn’t part fae. “And if I lose?”

“Then I get the prize!” they laughed, deftly avoiding a protruding tree route. The two of them had made these nighttime walks a routine, to the point where they knew all of the potential dangers. “Come on, guess! You have a fifty-fifty shot.”

“Very well. Hm...left.”

“Ding ding ding!” the human held out their left hand, revealing the coin resting in the palm of their hand. “You get the prize!”

Slipping the coin back into their pocket, then grabbed onto Malleus’ sleeve and tugged him downwards. He complied, and was rewarded with a press of soft lips against his own.

“It was a kiss.” they laughed.

“Indeed it was.” he smiled. “Shall I give you a consolation prize?”