#i lost all the layers on this one. im hoping to eventually put it through csp to retrieve the limeart and continue coloring

[yank-a-ton]

[bulletproofscales]

monster fucking march 6 - demonic beings (yoonjinseok)

im trying to cut it short with this one!! i always get os caught up in the build up. anyone can feel free to add to this if they want!! maybe i will eventually, but for now this is it. hope you still enjoy! this reminds me of another fic i wrote sometime last year. 

tags: demon yoongi , demon hoseok , human seokjin , hunting , public space, devotee seokjin , temptation , chubby seokjin , hoseok has a double dick  1.3k

AO3 LINK Yoongi loved the smell of clubs. Filled to the bruin with people, reeking of sweat, desperation and lust… It makes his insides churn in hungern as he skims the people making their way through the packed place. He can allow himself to be picky, Yoongi is used to claiming what he wants. Poor men and women falling for his charms, leaving them a delirious mess; knowing fully well they won’t be able to ever forget about him no matter how hard they try. 

Helpless to be obsessed with Yoongi for the rest of their miserable lives. 

He never did this as a way to get new followers. But a few more devotees never hurt. 

A figure catches his attention, angelically handsome features, plump lips and strong eyebrows, entire body softened all over with fat, making its way through the crowded bar. Yoongi is unable to keep his eyes off, the way his body shifts and clings to the tight clothes, hips and chubby sides squeezing in between the mob of people. Softened edges making his concentrated pout look even more innocent, lips parted and breathing just slightly agitated. Skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat, that everyone seems to be having in the cramped oven they call a club. But only does this mortal’s skin glisten ethereally. 

The stranger looks out of his element. And maybe that's what draws Yoongi even more. The innocence in his eyes as he makes his way through, handsome features contrasted with the utter timidnes with which he moves through the crowd. 

This one is his. 

Yoongi begins to stand up from the stool he had taken as refuge for his people-watching. But once he does, his excited expression drops at the sight of a familiar face staring at the same mortal. 

What’s Hoseok doing here?

-------

Hoseok has been hunting Seokjin for weeks now, appearing in his unconscious, manifesting himself in his room. Terrifying him not with his sudden intrusions, but with whispered promises of letting go of control, of giving into everything he knows Seokjin wants. Slowly working his way through the human’s weak attempts of self control. He’s already sabotaged Seokjin’s multiple attempts at dieting, even if he still has to get the human to stop trying at all. 

He supposes the tug and pull is fun. There are some victories though, like how he convinced Seokjin to come to the club at all. Giving him the perfect chance to show himself to Seokjin as a real “person”, where he’ll really be able to get his way with him. 

Already licking his lips in anticipation, Hoseok begins to follow the human; unaware of anything around him as his sight zeroes on Seokjin. Until he bumps into something.

Someone. 

“Stay away from my human.” Yoongi growls with a finger poking the center of Hoseok's chest. 

“Excuse me?” He looks down at the succubus with little interest. “Get lost, Yoongi.” He mumbles guiding him out of the way before he continues to walk towards his prey.  But, as their history fighting against one another has proven, the smaller devil proves to be hard to get rid off. 

“I got my eye on him first.” He argues walking behind Hoseok. He lost sight of Seokjin, great. 

“No you didn’t.”  Not even turning around to respond, he adds. “I’ve been hunting him for months now.”  

“That long?” Yoongi’s shock is palpable even through his voice. 

“Some of us like to put in the work.” The roll of his eyes is inevitable. 

“Or maybe, some of us struggle getting people to give in?” That suggestion makes Hoseok halt in his steps, people trying to squeeze their way around them as he turns to Yooongi. Already rearing himself to argue back, only more rageful by the sight of Yoongi’s smug expression. “I’ll help you.”  He shrugs it off like he is doing a favor to Hoseok, instead of actively sabotaging his hard efforts.

------

What is he doing here? 

Seokjin doesn’t even know why he thought this was going to be a good idea. He could be anywhere else. 

He could be at home. Doing anything else but wandering awkwardly through the mass of strangers. Feeling watched and insecure. 

Though, to be fair, he has been feeling observed in most places lately. And that's no good, because it makes him feeling anxious. And Seokjin eats when he’s anxious. Even right now he mourns the fact that he paid entry to a place that doesn’t serve any food, even if he knows it would go against his diet. 

It's been particularly hard to resist temptation these days. 

He’s making his way through pressed to the wall of the cramped club; only place where he is able to find some air. Already making his mind about just going home, before two dainty hands caress up his hips; halting him in his steps. 

“Seokjinnie…” The familiarity of the voice sends shivers down his spine even in the heated enclosure of the club. “I almost lost you.” Purring seductive and with a slim torso that presses against his chubby back. Seokjin doesn’t have to turn to know, he’s heard this voice so many times. Has seen this man too many times. 

“I–I think you’re mistaking me f-for someone else.” He can only hope his excuses are not shaky enough to fade into the blaring music. The contexts make it so no one bats an eye at the strangers pressing obscenely to one another. 

The man’s lips brush against the shell of his ear as he speaks. “Don’t lie to me.” Even if he can feel the smile spread, it doesn't make his warning any less frightening. “Say my name, baby,” 

“I–I don’t know you.” Seokjin lies through his teeth trying to get away. “Leave me alone, please.” It doesn't help him sound any more assertive. He can’t take another step before another body presses to the softness of his front. 

“I’ve heard so much about you.” An actual stranger looks up to him with a sickeningly sweet smile. Sinfully delicate features with a grin that doesn’t reach his eyes. “You wouldn't leave before the actual fun starts, right, Seokjin-ah?” His big bony hands caress shamelessly up the curve of his belly, grazing his puffy moobs before they wrap around Seokjin’s neck. He can’t help the way his breathing shivers. 

It's been so long. 

“Bet you’re hungry.” Hoseok whispers. His own more delicate hands let thin fingers sink into the dents of his rolls. Raking them making the entirety of his middle bounce. Somehow, that suggestion makes Seokjin panic even more. Every time he’s doing a little too well in his weight loss journey, Hoseok appears. Tempting him with the promise of hedonism and pleasure. 

In the end, it's Seokjin by himself ruining his progress. Hoseok’s never appeared to him like this; could never touch Seokjin, showing him the pleasure he could feel. Him and… Whoever this guy is. 

“I-I’m on a diet.” The stranger’s smile doesn’t falter. 

“Hoseok has all your favorites, though.” Strong bony fingers sink into the knots of shoulders, Seokjin’s expression melting against his will. “You really shouldn’t restrain yourself, Seokjin-ah…” The tone of the mystical stranger’s voice sounds so knowing; like he sees right through him. 

“In more than one way too.” Hoseok whispers against his ear, pressing his hips gently to the crest of his hefty ass. Tight stretched jeans barely enough of a layer to protect Seokjin from the feeling of Hoseok’s abnormal bulge, sinking between his cheeks. Two hard ons clearly pressing behind him, making him shiver as his heart halts. 

It's really… really been so long. 

“We’ll take care of you.” Hoseok whispers, the stranger sinking impossibly closer into the gentle curve of his belly; sandwiching him under their undivided attention. 

“O—Okay.” 

[sendyefrogs]

insignificant

a/n: two posts in a week??? damn im whack anyway- the pov switches everytime there’s a cut, hope yall can recognize it,, telling me if you like the style i rly liked writing it (._.) also this is after the timeskip so aha word count: 1.6 K (wow look at me go) pairing: atsumu x reader genre: angst (if it’s not very good, pls forgiveness, internet person)

The smooth, laminated floors were littered with confetti, plastic knife lying limp in your hands. Your friends were long gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts, alone on your birthday, alone even when you had reminded him last week. But maybe you were just that insignificant, just that easy to forget. You carefully pick up each piece of cake, packing it safely in a box for later, distracting yourself to keep from break into pieces. Was it that difficult to keep track of things, when you had to focus on the team, organize all the meetings and practices?

'He always has enough time for all his fangirls', the first bitter thought flooded your mind. The first of many that plagued your mind that day, that week, when he returned only late at nights, falling into bed without so much as a glance at you. The first of the string of wonderings that eventually widened the proverbial gap between the two of you so much that crossing it back would have required too much out of either of you. The first train that led your thoughts so far away from the reality of it that you overthought every gesture, every word, every kiss, questioning if he meant them for you or there was another, he wanted to reserve them for.

And there was. Another. Not at first, but the more disinterested he got, the more skeptic you got, the worse the miscommunication got. And there she was, so willing to satisfy him, take care of him that the image of you flew right out his mind, replaced by her, her tiny giggles and impossibly large eyes. And he was only human, desperation was tempting him and he took the bait, indulging himself for the night, two nights, three nights, a week, a month.

But every time he returned, he would notice the soft look in your once shining orbs, he knew you still loved him, still waited for the day he would make time for you, but didn't have the heart to tell you... that day was long gone, and unnoticed you went, like snow in the Arctic, that lay a fine layer of white over the land, beautiful, necessary, but insignificant.

He knew, that he would have to tell you, face the broken look in your eyes, the slight downturn of your lips, not yelling, because you couldn't be mad, not when your heart beat for him, every step of the way.

You were always there for him, the side-lines of his matches, cheering for him, only him, louder than the rest, glowing with pride that he was yours, allowing him to toss every spike with determination behind his eyes. 

You were there, every time they lost, when the fangirls crowded the winning team and his slunk away to join them, you showering him with kisses, words of encouragement, and cuddling him until the feeling of failure in his heart gave way to love for you. You were there, uncomplaining, content to just be beside him, be the one he comes to with worries and desires, with food for his hunger and affection for his soul, there just as you always would be until he told you.

Maybe you would stay with him even after he broke your heart, forgive him even if you didn't trust him, keep the routine you had fallen into? He could only hope.

"I wasn't lying when I said I loved you." Your shivering sobs, racking breaths and tear-filled eyes began the way he slowly fell apart. But right then he was cold, aloof, giving you the choice of returning back to him even though he could tell you wouldn't by the way you flinched away from his fingers. "I loved you. I just… fell out of love too."

Wrong words, he sensed. Your reaction changed out of the blue, and his heart thumped against his chest, enough to hurt. Standing up, you brush yourself off and wipe your tears. Though your face was stained and swollen with your very much recent emotions, you tried to put on a strong façade.

Because if he didn’t care, why should you? Why should you be the only one silently braving yourself through the ordeal when he didn’t so much as shed a single drop for the four-year long relationship he was so casually throwing away? Why should you let yourself be defined as insignificant time and over again by the same person who didn’t appreciate the things you did for him, didn’t love you anymore? Why should you if replacing you was just that easy, falling out of love just that simple, shattering you just that effortless, bringing in one of the fans that would turn on him the second the ball slips out of his hands and he misses his toss?

The answer was that you didn’t.

You let go, set him free, cut off all ties. Since he was really that calmly ‘out of love’ with you, it shouldn’t bother him that much if you pretended that he never existed. You would never have pegged Atsumu as the unfeeling type, Kiyoomi maybe, but not your (now ex) boyfriend. He always overwhelming people with his emotions, akin to Bokuto and Hinata, little balls of energy, and now they would all be gone too, simply because Atsumu had a whim to be with someone that wouldn’t disappoint him like you. 

And maybe he was right, maybe you were too clingy, too desperate, too loving for someone like him who could have any girl he wanted.

Thoughts cloud your head, as you pack a quick overnight bag. You just needed to get away from here, away from the hurt, the images of you huddled against different walls of the house waiting for him till late into the nights, innocent, naïve. 

You stop at the figure that leaned against the door frame, looking into his eyes for remorse, grief, regret, anything. It’s too dark to see anything but the cold glint in his eyes as he stares back.

So, you smile, because anything else would have left you sobbing on the now fading laminate of the floors. “’Tsumu, I- I would have given you the stars if you asked for them.” At that his head snapped up, the reference to a summer day, surrounded by cherry blossoms enough to rattle a reaction out of him. “But I was never enough for you, was I? I hope you’re happy now. Don’t forget me, my love.”

You were leaving but you wanted him to remember you; they could call you selfish, manipulative, inconsiderate, but then what was he? Where was the reprimand for his actions? Was he not heedless in his actions? Thoughtless, unmindful? You were leaving the one you believed you would end up with but for his mistake, your life was torn apart, much like your heart.

And you were gone, with a slight caress of his cheek, a soft smile and teary eyes. Leaving him regretting, but still he wouldn’t call out to you, for you. He hoped he had done right by you, right by himself, in telling you, no matter what you felt. Then, why did he feel so empty?

Home though he still came smelling of smoke and elegant perfume, from her house, he always searched for you first, glancing around in rooms for your familiar figure, sitting against a wall as you did before, waiting for him. It took him a minute but he always remembered, felt the hole in his heart ache, where you once belonged, now gone, not gratuitously.

His days were monotonous, unsurprising. You were, he realized, the light in his life, the unpredictable spark of energy, full of love and affection and kindness and forgiveness and patience and you were his. More than she could ever be, belonged to him like snow to the Arctic, rightfully in its place.

Remorse overtook his body, his mind, his soul. It snowballed into something that he couldn’t control anymore, energy drained every morning, crying late into the night, dragging himself around. All because he decided he was better than you, that you were insignificant. That his fangirls could replace you, care for him even a tenth as much as you did. But they didn't, because no one ever could.

The MSBY team wasn’t doing as well as they usually did. The setter seemed distracted, staring up into the stands ever so often, always at a particular spot. The spot remained empty, and the rest of the team turned pitying glances at him. The slow build of frustration took a toll on ’Tsumu, self-loathing building up until it overwhelmed him.

The straw that broke him was the loss of the match. Their first one in two years, first one since you had started to attend his matches. You, his lucky charm. You, the only one that kept him sane. You, who loved him like no one ever had.

The whole stadium watched as the strong, beautiful, majestic setter fell to his knees, hands on his ears, screaming himself hoarse on national television. Screaming for you to come back to him. Screaming for you to forgive his idiocy. Screaming for the only person who had mattered to him more than the world. And no one dared stop him.

Your last words to him resonated over and over in his head, echoing in his ears as his throat went dry and tears streamed down his face. ‘Don’t forget me, my love.’ How could he, when you were the only thing on his mind?

[theonlygamergost]

A tattoo for a lost bet - Fd!au (1/3)

This fanfiction is based on the Family Dynamic au made by @antarctic-bay if you would like to know more, go check them out!!!

Also please bear in mind that the things written in this might not be canon!

This fic was corrected by the lovely @im-default

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Techno and Skeppy bet on stupid things, and sometimes their bets can have very severe consequence if lost.

If you want to, look at what Minetra’s desing of Techno tattoo

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tw! Betting, swearing. Btw, this is very long

Next part --->

Enjoy~

Childhood friends usually have that one thing they used to do or say when they were young, maybe even a habit they caught together and never got rid of. Techno and Skeppy used to bet on the stupidest things when they were young… Well, they still do bet on the stupidest things, but there is a difference from when they were young: they have some money now.

It was very normal for them to bet a couple of dollars on the stupidest things.

“My bus is going to arrive earlier than yours” Bet

“I’ll finish my homework before you” Bet

“I’m betting that you can’t finish your burger before I do” You’re on.

And these are just some examples, they really betted on everything, and Techno won half of them.

That’s why Skeppy stopped betting too much money when playing with him, literally half of Techno’s income was his won bets against him.

That’s why Techno barely stepped down from a bet coming from Skeppy, he was so confident that he also would bet the stupidest things to gain some dollars.

They didn’t bet only money though, they bet other things like objects or small things they had to do if they lost.

And honestly, Techno was so confident he could win a 1v1 in Minecraft against Skeppy, even though if he lost, he had to get a tattoo.

He hadn’t played in a few days due to all-nighters for last-minute tests, but Skeppy was worse than him anyway, it would have been fine… Right?

“You should get something edgy... like a skull!”

“I hate you”

Skeppy laughed as they stood in the waiting room of a tattoo place in town, Techno had lost the bet, and now, he had to get a tattoo.

“Look, you’re lucky I didn’t specify what tattoo you had to get” Techno took off his glasses and allowed his head to fall into his hands, “I know, if it was for you I’d have a dick tattooed on my forehead” Skeppy laughed again, Techno just exhaled in exasperation, out of all of the times he had to lose a bet, why this one?

The customer before them got up and entered what they guessed was the studio, Techno tensed up a little bit

“Do you already have an idea of what you’re getting? I’m pretty good at suggestions” He announced proudly placing his hands on his hips, gaining a death stare from Techno. “You are the last person I’d ask for a suggestion” Skeppy whispered “Ouch” before both of them smiled.

“To answer your question, yes, I do have something in mind”

I mean… after passing an entire night up, looking at tattoo ideas, he had an idea of what he could get, he just couldn’t find a photo or a drawing of what he wanted.

“By the way… “ Skeppy slipped his phone out of his hoodie, “... did you tell Phil about this?”

He froze

Skeppy noticed

“Don’t tell me… “ The boy with the light blue hoodie didn’t finish the question, scared of the answer.

Techno sighed…

and nodded.

“OH MY GOD TECHNO!!!” Skeppy bounced out of his seat, “ I THOUGHT YOU TOLD PHIL ABOUT THIS!!!” Techno gestured at him to be quiet, Skeppy sat back down.

“Phil would have never agreed to this! I had to do this without telling anyone” The customer and the Tattooist came out of the studio, “Plus, I’m doing this somewhere I can hide it pretty easily” he reassured, but mostly himself.

“Dude, you sound like you’re getting it on your butt” Techno pushed him lightly in response.

As the customer left, the tattoo artist came up to them and asked who of the two were here to get tattooed, Techno took a deep breath and got up.

No turning back now

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I applied a layer of petroleum jelly and put on a bandage, you’ll have to keep it for about twenty-four hours” Techno carefully listened to the tattooist after stepping out of the studio, “To avoid getting an infection, wash it with an antimicrobial soap and water, you can find it in any store, I recommend patting it dry instead of scratching it, put vaseline on it and keep it moisturized,” Skeppy was comfortably sitting on the couch, half-listening to what they were saying.

“For how long do I have to do this? Techno gently placed a hand on his left shoulder, “It’s a pretty big tattoo so...about four weeks” Skeppy’s eyes widened, p-pretty big? Four weeks? What in the hell did Techno get?

“Remember to do the whole process two times a day and don’t expose it to the sun, if you ever have any questions or insecurities, come see me kid, no worries.” Techno politely thanked him and gestured at Skeppy to follow him out, oh boy did Skeppy have questions for him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“THERE WAS NO NEED TO GET IT THAT BIG!!!” Skeppy freaked out when Techno had told him the tattoo went from his left shoulder all the way to his elbow, he could have just gotten a letter or a dot and it would have been fine for him.

“To be honest, I was thinking of getting it smaller, but then the tattooer showed me a design he drew and… “ Rubbing the back of his head, he explained to Skeppy what happened in the studio while he was deciding what to get tattooed.  Skeppy calmed down hearing his friend happy about the choice he had made, hoping that he wasn’t going to regret it later.

“By the way… can I see it? Now you’ve made me curious!” Techno shook his head and Skeppy frowned in disappointment.

“I can’t show it right now, the bandages are on it and I can’t take them off for a day, maybe tomorrow at school” Techno smiled subtly, he will never admit this but he couldn’t wait to show Skeppy his tattoo.

Making their way to the bus stop, they shared earbuds to listen to some music, right now they were using Techno’s phone meaning that Monstercat was playing it their ears, specifically, “Call me” by Subtact.

But the music was just a background to fill in an eventual moment of silence, they had been talking since they left the coffee shop and the tattoo argument never left the conversation.

“Would you ever get a tattoo Skeppy?” Techno asked curiously, walking side by side with his best friend, his hands were casually placed in his hoodie’s pockets.

The brown-haired boy had his hands behind his head in a very anime-like pose, “Maybe, I think it would be way smaller than yours though” the sky over the city was grey, the sun’s light was barely able to pass through the immense stretch of clouds, summer was ending and school had already started.

The two young boys arrived at the bus stop and kept chatting until their ride home arrived, Techno’s bus arrived first so they waved their goodbye’s and went their own way.

While looking outside of the window, he started thinking about how to avoid any possible questions about the bandages in the bathroom that his brothers could find.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He opened the front door to find two brothers playing cards on the coffee table, both of them too absorbed in the game to greet him.

“What are you guys doing?” Techno passed next to them to go leave his bag into his room, “Waiting for you to get home, dinner is ready and Phil won’t be coming home until later” Wilbur spoke up, eyes fixed on his cards, “Don’t disappear Technoblade, I just need to heat the food and we can eat” Techno nodded and entered his room, opening his backpack to grab out the bandages and soap he bought before parting ways with Skeppy, he knew there was vaseline somewhere in the bathroom and Will had a moisturizing cream he never admits he has and uses, there was no point in buying them since they were at home already, he could just borrow them.

After taking his shoes off and slipping in his slippers, he exited his room to sit at the counter to eat with Wilbur and Tommy, placing his glasses by his plate and rubbing his tired eyes before taking his first bite.

There were about two or three minutes of silence before anyone started talking.

“Tubbo said that he, Nikki and Eret are planning on a movie night next Saturday, they invited us” Tommy broke the silence, the Berry siblings loved doing movie nights, they had a small projector which served as a monitor and a big ass couch where them plus the Pandel could all fit if squished a bit, reason why they usually invited them.

“I already said I’m going, you guys coming too?” He looked at his older brothers, but his gaze fixed on Techno’s left shoulder… was it just an impression or…?

“I don’t have anything to do so, yeah I’m down” Wilbur replied after taking a sip of water, “You Techno?”

Now both of their gazes were on the pink-haired brother, who was currently munching on a vegetable. “Yeah sure,” he shrugged it off,  “Have you asked Phil yet?”

Tommy’s eyes were still fixed on Techno’s left shoulder, “No… I was thinking of…asking him when he came- Techno wh-why is your left shoulder bigger than usual?”

He almost choked on his salad.

“What are you- Oh… yeah, you’re right” Wilbur also looked at his shoulder, welp, fuck.

“I… uh…” Techno almost stuttered, he had forgotten how vigil and attentive to details Tommy could be… what could he tell them…

Saying that he got in a fight was the worst idea ever, knowing his brothers they would have asked him the name, grade and address of who did this to him, so that idea was out of the question.

Eh, just deny it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” he took another fork of his salad, trying to play it cool, “But I swear it looks-”

“Maybe it’s this hoodie” he quickly interrupted him, he had to get the attention somewhere else, fast.

“This hoodie is pretty fluffy and I didn’t use it for the entirety of summer so… “ He trailed off, leaving Tommy very suspicious.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The day at school wasn’t too different from others, the only “unnatural” thing he had to do was go get a violin and carry it from one side of high school to the other, thank god he usually carried stuff mostly on his right shoulder.

Speaking of carrying, he had to carry his backpack on only his right shoulder, a thing he despised and never did, but placing any type of weight on the new freshly-made tattoo stung a little bit, hopefully in a couple of days he could go back to using both shoulders normally.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Bandages… vaseline… the soap is already in the bathroom… “ It had passed twenty-four hours from when he got the tattoo, it was time for him to change the bandage, and to do so, he wanted to be a hundred per cent sure he had everything he needed before going to the bathroom.

He grabbed all of the necessary things and peaked into the living room, Wilbur was in his room and Tommy wasn’t home yet so he took a deep breath and silently DASHED to the bathroom.

First thing first.

Lock. The. Door.

He wasn’t about to get walked in on by one of his brothers, so he locked the door and took another deep breath, he was now partially safe.

Underneath his hoodie, he had changed after arriving home into his only tank top, aka Wilbur got gifted one but he didn’t like it, so much that when doing laundry he had placed it in the stack of Techno’s clothes, so now it was his.

He didn’t want to do the whole operation shirtless so I guess the tank top was pretty convenient.

Stripping out of his hoodie, he looked at the bandages wrapped around his arm and the deep bags under his eyes: if someone else looked at him, they would think he was part of a gang or something.

Carefully peeling off the bandages, he realized that the skin around the tattoo was pretty red, the bits that were getting exposed to the air felt hot, it was going to be a big problem if he had gotten an infection.

As the last part came off, Techno looked once again in the mirror, the beautiful floral tattoo that he had seen drawn on paper by the tattooist look way better on skin, his skin.

Techno was afraid of regretting his decision, getting a tattoo this big from a day to another was careless of him, but god it looked pretty, he loved it.

Realizing that he was smiling at his own reflection, he shook it off and got back into a more concentrated state.

As the tattooist said, with a glass, he poured over the black ink cold water, his shoulders loosened up at the welcome sensation of chill washing over him.

He took the soap he bought and started making slow and soft circular motions, pressing as little as he could-

The sound of the handle trying to open the door made him jump, oh no no no, please…

“What do you want?” he recomposed himself and spoke with his usual unbothered voice, “Did you lock the bathroom Techno?! Why the fuck would you do that?!”, a high voice came from the other side of the door, Tommy must have arrived home from practice and he usually takes a shower right after entering the apartment so…

“It’s called privacy Tommy, plus I just got out of the shower, and no, I’m not rushing, I’m taking my sweet time” A loud groan could be heard right before footsteps walking away, Techno sighed, close one.

He continued taking care of his tattoo with extreme caution, washing away the soap, applying the vaseline, and wrapping it back up again. He threw everything in his drawer ( who usually only had the gel he occasionally used and his trusted comb), put on the hoodie again and shouted at Tommy that the bathroom was free.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After that, he went straight back into his room to work on the unusually low number of homework, unfortunately, it was French, so it didn’t matter how much stuff he had to do, it was going to take a long time either way.

He finished around the time that Phil got home, the older brother had the habit of greeting every brother one by one, so when a “Hello Technomate~” arrived from the slightly open door, Techno smiled and replied with the least dead-inside voice he could make: “Welcome back home Phil”

He was about to close his textbook as Phil’s voice in the distance asked him a question he wasn’t expecting.

“Hey Techno… Why do you have bandages in your drawer?”

Time stopped and Techno froze, a shiver shot up his spine. Why did Phil open his bathroom drawer?

“Uh… Well… Tommy sometimes comes home with cuts and bruises so I bought bandages in case he ever needs them” It wasn’t a lie, Techno would always patch up Tommy if he got hurt when his protect-the-weak vigilante moves failed him and he got some bruises, his voice was a little shaky but he was so far away from Phil that he probably didn’t notice.

“Huh… That’s… awfully empathic of you… “

Techno stood completely still for a couple more seconds waiting for him to find the antimicrobial soap and the vaseline, but it never happened.

He exhaled after taking off his glasses, throwing himself on the bed, turning to face the ceiling.

He didn’t regret getting this tattoo, but for how long could he keep it hidden from his brothers? For how long would he be able to lie to his brother?

Only time could tell.

[redrabbitspod]

This is in no way meant to be rude or disrespectful and I am fully aware that you can do whatever you please but I feel like Neil is getting so out of character. He clearly started to develop more of an own personality but he definitely has been through so much and he is just so..cheery and happy and clingy all the time(which if you’re like that is in no way wrong or bad) and now he reminds me so much of Nicky in AFTG. It’s really hard for me to still see Neil.

OOC: This is very long, and while we think everything leading up to it is super important to our thought process (and yes this is something we’ve thought about) the bit in bold is the heart of the point we try to make. (Please read the whole thing though!)

Hey, I’m actually really happy that you sent this in because I’ve been wanting to talk about it. I know that there’s a post going around that we both wholeheartedly agree with about Neil reaching far past ooc and becoming very ‘fem’. Jeni and I had a really long talk about this because we were worried that our Neil would be perceived or mistaken to fit in that trope. And while I think your concern is EXTREMELY valid (note: people can write the characters however they want. It’s fanfiction, they can do as they please, like you said, we just did not want to go that direction), I have a few points as to why I disagree. 

On surface I definitely get that. Idk if you’ve read the entirety of RRP, but I know for those of you that just read the asks (Im sure there are a lot), it DEFINITELY seems that way. But we went into RRP right off the bat letting people know that these characters will fundamentally be different. In Andrew’s case, we know he’s extremely soft now and we bring that up a LOT in the fic. Both himself acknowledging it and all the other characters around him. But we went in knowing he was going to be very different from canon - mainly because we took out the plotline that he was ever put on meds. In Wish You Were Here, the story we are writing post-season 2, we will be mentioning that and how we twisted it. Because in canon, that shaped his entire character. The medication changed the physiology of his brain and we hated the fact that something so abhorrent was forced upon him by the courts that we didn’t do it. And as a result, Andrew’s character is completely different because he’s able to tap into emotions that were blocked in canon. He’s able to grow in ways that he was not able to before and besides the fact that this is set a good while after college and especially his sophomore year that we saw in canon, he was going to change. We definitely know that them admitting that they love each other, making strides in their relationship both physical and mental, opening up, expressing, for his character may seem extremely ooc for some, but we had to take into account what would’ve happened if we took the thing that shaped his character in canon away. I hope we’ve done him justice. 

Now onto Neil. Neil we work over a LOT. And when Jeni brought this up to me because of the post, there were glaring things in my mind that automatically said no. This doesnt apply to our Neil even though to some it may seem that way. Here’s what we’ve done at least very consciously to make sure that our Neil holds integrity to his canon character, that he holds merit and a backbone to back up how he’s grown throughout our series. 

From day one, we knew that they knew each other. We knew that an event from the past not only shaped how Andrew approaches life, but how Neil does as well. Childish sentiment and nostalgia kept Neil in Arizona for so long, which we imply throughout season 1 and start the ball rolling in the first chapter. For the both of them, they held onto the boy they met at the Grand Canyon through everything they’d been through. When shit got tough, it was each other they thought of. And on some wild whim, Neil hoped one day Andrew would walk through the Book Nook’s doors and he’d see him again. Not because Neil had a crush, because he didn’t. But because Andrew was the embodiment of strength for him. 

New York was really important to us. Neil standing his ground and letting Andrew know exactly what he’d done to him, was what the entirety of Season 1 and EVEN season 2 culminated and came back to. Neil being able to say no, fuck you asshole, and always express exactly how he was feeling, was so vitally important to us. ESPECIALLY when it came to Andrew. Those few weeks of New York we wanted to build a bridge if you will. Andrew’s intentions were always genuine and well-meaning and Neil knew that, but survival instincts and what’s been ingrained in him stuck. They started to have a little give when he came to realize that he felt something for the man before him. But he never lost that fight for himself. That HE has to ALSO be okay. And I think we see a lot in that trope of Neil that he loses the fight, the backbone, the integrity that makes his canon character so compelling (even if he is a martyr). 

One thing we worried people would misinterpret was how fast we pushed their characters together. We definitely get that. In our world we didnt really have the luxury of really stretching it out like some may have, just because we were working with real-time. And honestly? As we wrote, the drive to push them together because they were so connected and intertwined just fell genuinely and organically. For us, it only made sense and not because of canon, but because of the story we’d written already. It made sense to us for Andrew to be the one to hold himself back and Neil be the one reaching out - Neil be the one exploring and beginning to recognize what want and really, agency over himself AND his wants, was. Neil was the one to ask for their first kiss here, Neil was the one to initiate them all afterwards, Neil was the one that asked Andrew to touch him, Neil was the one that asked what they were in Arizona, Neil was the one to bring up sex. And in return, Andrew was peeling away layers of himself, feeling accepted, and wanted, and understood in ways he’d never been before. And honestly? Feeling honored that they were both experiencing emotions in ways that they both never felt before. We see their relationship has an equal give and take, a push and pull. And I’m saying all of this because it’s honestly and truly really important for why we’ve made Neil’s character the way that he is. 

Going into season 2, we knew that happiness could not last long. They both had things to sort out, they both had hurdles to hop over, bridges to cross, whole fucking oceans to swim. Before season 2 started, before we had anything written or really even solidly planned, we knew they had to break up. Jeni even had the scene written back in either july or august. We knew that in order to continue trying to give integrity to their characters and relationship, how far they’d grown but also that growth is not a linear path, we needed to break them up. And in the lead up to that, we made sure that Neil was not only looking out for Andrew or trying to, but that he was looking out for HIMSELF. Unlike in canon, he didnt automatically have the foxes - not in his head at least. Of course he knew he had a home there, he knew that he had friends, but they weren’t like canon because he didnt grow WITH them like he did in canon. In his mind, he really only had Andrew and if there was no Andrew, why stay? And when their fight happened we made sure that Neil had value enough in himself, care for himself, love for himself AND for Andrew that they couldn’t let this go on any longer. Neil left because he knew he deserved better. He knew Andrew needed help and he couldn’t provide it. And he held onto that. In fact, Andrew even held onto it himself: 

“Is there no hope, then?” Andrew asked, unable to help himself.

Neil sighed and Andrew was grateful that he at least didn’t pretend that he didn’t know what Andrew meant.

“I don’t know, Dr- Andrew.” Was it possible for his chest to hurt even more? He wanted to curl in on himself, but settled instead for clenching the sharp corners of the pack of cigarettes in his pocket into the palm of his hand. He watched as Neil bit the inside of his lip and that little indent appeared. Maybe he feels it, too . “Part of me wants to say fuck it all and let’s just go home. I hate this... But I hate what you’ve been putting me through these last couple of weeks even more. I can’t do that again,” he stopped talking once more and inhaled a shuddering breath. “You broke my heart, Andrew. I know I sound dramatic and stupid, but I don’t know how else to say it and - I don’t know how to do this, for fucks sake.” He finally turned to him, but the eye contact was brief and before it was even there, it was gone. “I came into this knowing nothing about relationships and I know even less about breakups. I don’t know how to navigate this.”

“You think I do?” Andrew asked. He didn’t mean  for it to sound so bitter, but there it was.

“I don’t know with you,” Neil shrugged. “I feel like you keep everything so close to your chest, that there are whole sections of you I’m missing. And listen, I don’t blame you. You should be able to choose what you want to share. But I can’t help that it makes things hard when you’re falling apart and I don’t know why...”

Andrew let go of the box and put both of his hands in his lap. Grinding his teeth together, he heard the beginning hum of Bee’s buzz , but took a deep breath to try and keep her at bay. Clearing his throat, he looked back to the stadium and that stupid orange fox paw, before he murmured, “What if I offer you a piece?” - suddenly and quickly said, it was as if his mouth was trying to outrun his mind, despite the second he took to contain it. He’d known this would eventually come - that he would have to do this. And besides, Neil deserved an explanation, even if they never got back together.

“Andrew-”

“I’m not offering with hopes that we’ll get back together right now, Neil. I’m working through shit the best I can. Therapy is helping, but I know it’s a process. I just know you deserve an explanation. And I haven’t wanted to tell you because it’s fucking horrific, but I was also afraid that it would send me even further down the spiral if I talked about it. Now that I have a space to vent through, I don’t think I’m so afraid of the fall.”

This part was so important to us for both Andrew and Neil’s character. And in the entire build up to the break up and directly after, Neil held onto the fact that they needed to talk. He kept bringing it up. Because he knew that if they didn’t it would escalate just like it did before. 

“I wouldn’t risk being with you again if I didn’t think things would be different. I’m not better and to be honest? I probably wont ever be better. I’ve spent my entire life dealing with my shit by myself because that’s just how it was. I’ve avoided relationships because I never trusted anyone with my baggage and I didn’t think it’d be fair to pile it on someone anyway. So when it comes to talking about shit - I’m not used to that. Bee was the only person I’d ever told everything to, and she doesn’t even know all of it.”

“I know that,” Neil said, leaning forward as if to show Andrew how much he actually understood. If that was the case, Andrew believed him. “I know you, Andrew. I would never force you to talk about something you don’t want to. That’s not what I’m trying to do. But , I need you to work with me, and if not me, someone else. Don’t take it out on me when you’re going through shit that neither of us can control. It’s not fair and it makes me feel like I’ve done something wrong and I can’t fix it.”

Now. Now we’re up to your points. I promise all of this was important for me to explain, because I know there’s literally SO MUCH that we’ve written, that shit happening now can get in the way of everything that’s happened before to lead up to this. 

We fully recognize that Neil is definitely happy. But he’s not happy-go-lucky and we tried really hard to make sure he didn’t lose his integrity - his backbone - the things that made Neil, Neil. 

Something I realized throughout this series was that I was getting worried that the focus of season 2 was so heavily on Andrew. I was seriously worried about that. But then I realized that Season 1 was focused solely on Neil. Season 1, Neil was a fucking wreck. It was Matt AND Andrew comforting him, Matt and Andrew bringing him down, Matt and Andrew trying to protect him, take care of him, find him, search for him, all of that. But even through Neil’s horrific anxiety and all the bad shit that happened, it was still Neil that pushed himself up from the ground, pulled Lola back, and gave Andrew the in. It was Neil that fought with the doctors and nurses to see Andrew and make sure he was okay. Even still afterward though, it was Neil discovering and Neil understanding and a lot of Neil, Neil, Neil. 

Season 2 is heavily focused on Andrew. We’ve already seen Neil’s story and his growth. Its Andrew’s turn to try and again, build his bridge to getting better. But with that, it was Neil that made the strides to speak and handle Ichirou, it was Neil that figured out things with his uncle, it was Neil that ultimately had the gun, brought Andrew for practice - took it out and demanded Andrew get behind him this time. It was Neil that looked Andrew in the eyes as the cops patted them down and desperately tried to tether them together.  It was Neil that kept reassuring Andrew they were going home. It was Neil that snapped the moment the cop tried to put his hands on Andrew to show them where their things were when they left the prescient, and ANDREW that allowed himself to be pulled into Neil’s arms in that moment, because he knew that he was the one thing that was SAFE. It was Neil that held Andrew that night and Andrew that LET himself be held as he broke down. 

That was one chapter ago. And we really tried to illustrate at the end that they have a life ahead of them now. They have a future - a future that is spread out and it’s bright and full of possibilities. They have a future where they can do what they want. They have a FAMILY. They have nieces, Aaron, Kate, Bee, the entire TFN team. Neil had nothing and now he has something. He has hope. 

Promise Im coming down to the end omfg. This is why our Authors and End Notes are so fucking long i swear to fucking god. 

This BTP chapter, we wanted to explore that fucking unbridled happiness. That elation of fuck - we have the world out in front of us. We don’t have any killers on our backs, Hailey is safe, Robin is safe, Jean is out, the Moriyama’s are taken care of, Stuart isn’t begging Neil to join the Hatford Branch, Aaron and Kate might be moving back to South Carolina, they’re married and all of that isn’t terrifying. It’s COMFORTING. So yes, this BTP chapter was bright and cheery. Neil was most certainly happy and showing it. Jumping on the bed, kisses all around, getting excited over ZOO BABIES and a ZOO CHOO train. But just because we show this side of him where he gets to go on a road trip and experience real and true fucking freedom for the first time, doesn’t mean that we’re all of a sudden shedding everything that we’ve built for his character. I don’t think that’s what you meant, but I mean it when I say we take the characters, the integrity of the characters, very, very seriously. Also in this chapter, Neil takes a homophobic asshole to task and not in the way that a lot of people do, but by quietly hinting at the threat because Neil doesn’t need bells and whistles. In fact, he even talked about how being happy was something his mother frowned upon: 

Because the way he looked at Neil when a butterfly landed on his finger or when he snuggled up to a goat in the petting zoo let Neil know that Andrew was happy. And he was happy.  That was something Neil never really had in his life. His mother didn’t care if he was happy, only that he was alive . In fact, the less happy he was, the fucking better. By her logic, he was less likely to go rogue if he didn't feel like there was something to be happy about outside of her. 

Neil’s finally had a moment to enjoy and let go and we know exactly how that can come off, but we have an entire future planned for them and the book they’re about to explore. Spoiler Alert: It won’t be all “butterflies and rainbows”. But all of this does not mean that all of a sudden we’re giving in to tropes and changing his character entirely because of one chapter. RRP and it’s characters mean too much to us. 

So I definitely get where you’re coming from and I’m so fucking sorry this is so long omfg. And I respect your view because we definitely worried that people would see them like that. But we have a reason for almost everything we do in this fic and really, we just wanted to see the boys happy here. We don’t believe he’s like Nicky and we don’t believe he’s clingy, but everyone interprets these characters differently, and you’re certainly entitled to that opinion. We hope this just makes our thought process on Neil’s development a little clearer. - The Creators

[violexides]

makoto naegi pseudo-analysis

okay. quick heads up:

1. the way i perceive characters isn’t universal, same with the way i write them, but for the sake of having this make sense i’m going to sound pretty matter-of-fact. because otherwise it’ll be hard to read thru.

2. i don’t remember much of dr1, and i don’t think a ton about makoto. i should, and i want to, but y’know. also this isn’t an all encompassing look into his character, which is why it’s a pseudo-analysis. it’s honestly pretty poorly written. but. yknow. i tried. 

3. i promise to stop mentioning this, but, worth saying: i have a lot of difficulty expressing opinions for reason im uncertain of. i hope this isn’t, like, controversial in any way? i’m just getting my thoughts out, and hoping i dont get killed for it. 

cool beans.

now, onto makoto.

as a start, i think that makoto is a really remarkable character because of a sort of... tactical nuance? he is an interesting take on an “average joe” character, following the strict formula of a perfect protagonist while also playing into the archetype of being just your normal high schooler, who becomes this epic hero. and the way that these two aspects coexist is really interesting.

makoto, as a person, has pretty “standard” protagonist traits. he’s sympathetic (not empathetic, which i’ll touch on... eventually), he’s brave, he’s selfless, he’s persistent, he’s a little bit awkward and a little too trusting, but it sort of sorts out for him. and i think one thing i personally see in him, and really like about him, is that this sort of character trait cluster, if you will, has realistic consequences? if that makes sense?

because, like, you are presented with this person who bears a smile. put through hell, put through everything, (as someone i cannot recall off the top of my head once stated, being put through neglect by his writers themselves) and he’s still smiling. but i think that when you look just a bit deeper, there’s a lot there? a lot of resentment. a lot of hatred. a lot of guilt.

someone who was given the entire world to shove onto their still-adolescent shoulders, someone who has to defy the organization that intends to rid the world of the very thing that almost killed you, that did kill so fucking many, because he believes in a higher kind of hope than the one they discuss. someone who is brave, who has put his neck on the line a thousand separate times-- still smiling, still the ultimate hope-- and this idolized figure of relentless hope (who doesn’t feel anything negative, because he still smiles and only cries twice ever in canotical history, correct me if i’m wrong), and... that’s a lot to put on a person who never really got to be a teenager, right?

and that’s where resentment kicks in.

all the people who accused him, who left him to die when they couldn’t persist in the same way he always had (because why can’t they persist like him? why can’t they lose their entire world, and forgive in the end?), doesn’t he hate them? and this is the stuff that makes me tick, so apologizes for going really deep into it, but isn’t that something that must be so intrisically present? for fuck’s sake, the entire future foundation, most of the class of 78 (because they’re all traitors, in a sense, with all the killing and the decision to lead him to the bottom of that garbage chute, and still he forgave) the remnants of despair that he still wants to save (and his argument with hinata at the end, though i don’t remember clearly, just think about it), and himself. himself!

he’s this average teenager with the world on his shoulders, who lost this, a sort of metaphorical prometheus (but perceived as hardly interesting enough to foster this role), this repetitive martyr, the perfect protagonist-- and he keeps failing, despite his persistence, despite his hope. sometimes i think about, like, how little negative emotion he shows. doesn’t he hate himself, in some sort of way? he was lucky enough to be the perfect person to be the ultimate hope, but not lucky enough to prevent it all in the first place. and there’s the loathing. that’s where it hits.

he’s this incredible human being, sympathetic through it all (but not empathetic, because he doesn’t feel what they go through. he understands it, and he cares-- god, does he care-- but he doesn’t feel it in himself. if he did, he’d be despairing from the start.) and forgiving, but also resentful-- and he must hate it! shouldn’t he be able to take it? shouldn’t he take all the hits, as he always has done, without resenting the people he would rather die than lose (again)?

as a sort of tldr: he’s a sympathetic, heroic martyr, a perfect protagonist, and yet there is endless layers of resentment, written into his very skin, and. yeah. yeah.

(worth saying, i think the dude is smart. i think he’s clever. i don’t necessarily think he’s the most clever protagonist-- all of them have different sorts of smart to them-- but i do think he’s a smart fucker. and i don’t think he’s necessarily childish. i think, after a point, he got mature. 

he’s just idealistic. idealistic, and optimistic (because he can’t dip into nihilism, because what will the world do then?) and sometimes, it makes him out to be a child. but i really don’t think he is. he has childish thoughts in thh, and he still has a boyish quality to him, but he’s been through it. he’s roughened up, as a person.

does he even recognize himself?)

--

that’s my analysis. i... hope someone enjoyed? feel free to add on and stuff, i hope i don’t accidentally start discourse akldfjs. 

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

Overgrown Metal

Series Summary:  Almost two decades ago, the fae rose up from beyond the veil with technology far surpassing the human race, quickly taking over after laying waste to nearly everything in their wake. Now eight paths cross to right the wrongs on both ends, working to uncover secrets that would have rather stayed hidden

Chapter 5: Bow With Hope

Summary: Enter Patton.

Trigger Warnings: death mention. If i missed any please let me know.

General taglist: @im-an-anxious-wreck (if you’d like to be tagged for all works or specific ones feel free to ask!)

Patton sighed gratefully as the great doors closed behind him, quickly straightening before anyone could see and hurrying down the main street to the tallest building before anyone could catch him and ask too many questions. His jaw clicked painfully as he tried to subtly stretch it out and hoping no one would notice just how fast he was blinking behind his rather large glasses. Too many potential questions, too many potential conversations, too much of everything and honestly why wasn’t he there yet he was in impeccable shape and walking fairly quickly and-

He nearly crashed into the front doors of the building not having noticed tripping his way up the steps. Blinking a few more times he shifted his pack to one shoulder somewhat painfully considering its weight and nudged the door open slowly and just enough for him to fit through, slipping in fast and shutting himself and the inside away from any potential prying eyes. Dropping the pack carefully he slumped against the frame and let his eyes adjust, the milkiness nearly cleared from his vision as he stretched his mouth open as wide as it would go. Being mute outside the walls didn’t give you many opportunities or use for that matter for opening it very often, defaulting to clenching his jaw an unhealthy amount and making it a relief when he finally returned to his city and no longer had to worry about keeping up any pretenses.

Looking around revealed an unsurprisingly empty lobby, the converted hotel expanded almost impossibly wide and making the light fixtures work twice as hard to banish the shadows from the furthest reaches of the room. Several staircases led up and away to various sections of the building, though only a couple led down into the depths where he and others of his current status were rarely ever permitted to tread. Waving away the sadness that threatened to swell at the thought he simply sighed again and hoisted the pack back over his shoulder, oddities from a nearby Undercurrent ratting softly within it. He wondered briefly what the residents of the underground towns actually called themselves- certainly something better than the blatant derogatory name Societies had given them. The nicer ones were nearly identical to Patton’s own city: well structured layers of markets and power plants and homes all buried safely beneath the ground to adapt to their rapidly changing environment.

Of course he wouldn’t care to live in one...he didn’t even really care to be living in a Society despite the “safety” it promised him especially being as high up as he was. Given the choice he’d be a wanderer as so many were now, refusing to settle down where either roots or branches would eventually chase you out or kill you as you tried to hold them back. Vast open plains were really only a temporary solution as wildlife continued to grow and shift and spread without mercy or care for what it was destroying to create whatever ideals were behind it. Shaking his head once again he made his way to the nearest staircase. There’d be time for thinking later...maybe. For now he needed to deliver what he managed to find and hopefully it would be enough to pay him with a day pass to the cemetery; his superiors didn’t want the past to hold anyone back which was fine with Patton- it just  meant he worked incredibly hard to be able to earn his time with who he had lost.

Finally getting to the door he needed he took the time to give his jaw one final stretch, mouthing out a couple words to practice their shapes before he had to talk again. His vision  had finally cleared fully leaving his dark brown curls the only thing obstructing his vision. Carefully they were pushed up and away, tucked neatly behind his ears before he smoothed the front of his still dirty tunic. Wincing he tried in vain to brush as much of it off as he could only to give up after barely half a minute as the dirt made it clear it was there to stay. Stern voices chiding him for his lack of professionalism were waved away quickly. His job was tough and dirty and there was really nothing he could do to help with that unless they decided to transfer him to a different purpose. These assurances fell somewhat limply as he sucked in a breath. He would never trade his purpose for anything, dangerous as it could be and even with the added drawbacks. He was free to roam out there- within a time frame but still. He could see how the world was progressing and how life was coping, he could see grass and “trees” rather than the industrial colors of his Society, and most of all he could look for-

Gripping the straps he straightened one final time and placed his hand on the door knob. There would be time for thinking later; right now he had a job to finish. Swinging open the door before he could change his mind he stepped in, head down and shoulders back before shutting the door behind him. Nothing happened for a full minute, the only sound in the room Patton’s own quickly beating heart and the gentle tinkling in the bag as the trinkets shifted with his fidgeting, Five minutes had passed before he slowly lifted only his eyes to scan the room, realizing with a start that he was completely alone. 

Cheeks burning with slight embarrassment he walked forward towards the thin envelope with his name on it on the wide oak desk. Placing the pack beside him he opened to reveal a small wad of twenty dollar bills and a note most likely written by the direct herself.

Patton,

If your past findings have been anything to go by this should be enough to pay you for what you’ve brought back this time, though action will be taken if my assumption is incorrect. The day pass included was taken from your pay, I took the liberty of sparing you a trip.

Faris

Blinking in surprise he quickly shuffled his pay to find that there was, in fact, a day pass included. His stomach squeezed uncomfortably at the thought of his routine being known so well but the organization he worked for was a rather tight knit group so in the end he supposed it made sense. He nudged the bag closer to the side of the desk and turned to leave, only briefly wondering why the director hadn’t been there this time before quickening his pace back towards the way he came. If he hurried he’d be able to use it now; he’d scarcely thought of much else his entire trip outside the walls.

Walking as quickly as he dared through the silent lobby he found the long familiar flight of stairs and hurried down them, barely stopping ;long enough to shove the pass through the slot before nearly crashing into the second door he hadn’t been paying attention to today.. Schooling his annoyed expression as the pass was logged he reached immediately for the door as he heard the beep, mood sobering immediately as the cold musty air hit his face. The cemetery was a quiet place, as they so often were, and hung heavy with the warm smell of earth contrasted just shy of unpleasantly with the crisp air of the underground cavern. Here the dead lay still in whatever a family could scrounge to wrap them with, most only in their best clothes laid as carefully and respectfully as possible in the holes dug by those who cared for them. Families weren’t allowed to see the dead laid to rest, too painful a thing to watch with the limited amount of technology they had, the director had said. Patton would have gave everything- he glanced up at where his feet had automatically taken him. His son’s grave.

His tight smile turned genuine as he kneeled in front of the stone, tears already pricking his eyes as he stared at the name written there. He brought his arm up slowly, palm resting on the corner of the smooth stone he had picked out himself: smooth and just big enough and slate gray with obsidian cracks spidering at the side. He always liked smiling in the cemetery, hoping that if God forbid his sin’s soul lingered he would see his father smiling and be comforted. He knew if he was ever a spirit he wouldn’t want to see his family mourn him, pain cracking their usually cheerful features. No. He’d rather them smile with the memories of their time spent together, and especially for his young child, he smiled as wide and as long as he could, simply absorbing the silence and trying his best to turn the cool indifference of the stone into warm comfort with the simple touch of his palm.

“I always wondered who it was you put all your hard earned savings towards. Though I’m deeply curious patton: if you’re mourning him down here, then why look for him up there?” Patton froze at the cold words tossed at him so carelessly, matching the rest of the room and sapping what little warmth he himself had left to offer. Standing carefully he schooled his face into what he hoped was an open expression and turned, meeting the deep brown eyes of Director Faris. 

She really shouldn’t be this intimidating he thought to himself as he bowed his head. The director was his height and only slightly chubbier, dark suit with a crisp lab coat laying carefully over it filling the picture of professionalism. Really the only thing scary about her was the necklace she wore with their society emblem carved into a small pendant, the snarling muzzle of a dog glinting in the low light. Her stern gaze never wavered from him, much as he wished it would, and the air between them had grown incredibly uncomfortable by the time she cleared her throat to indicate he could answer.

“Blind hope I suppose.” He offered weakly. “Thank you f-”

She waited patiently for him to clear his suddenly very dry throat, trying desperately to clear the gravel of disuse from his voice before he tried to speak again. “Thank you for  including a pass with my pay, the saved trip is greatly appreciated.”

“Blind hope that he survived and somehow escaped your notice for ten years?”

“A father knows.”

“So does a leader.” Faris stepped forward and  laid a hand on his shoulder. “You always have so much trouble simply letting go Patton. Let the past be.”

Patton bit back the retort of his purpose that was given to him by the director herself was finding relics of the past along with whatever could be made from present materials to bring back to the city. His purpose relied on the past and people finding new ways to innovate it so it fit into the future. That to simply let the past go- well, wasn’t so simple. He cast a longing gaze to the smooth stone sitting obliviously in the dirt, Faris’ eyes following sharply.

“Whose body do you think is down there if not your son’s? How little respect do you have for us if you think we would deceive you on such a personal level?” Patton felt a wave of guilt wash over him at those words, looking down shamefully. “Have faith, Patton. This world has no more room for questions.”

As the director's hand fell from his shoulder at last she gestured as she turned away, taking confident strides to the stairs. “Follow me when you’re ready; I have other things to discuss with you.”

Pressing his lips together, Patton took one last look at the grave marker. Doubt curled not for the first time in the back of his mind, an ever growing sapling digging its roots ever deeping in the bed of questions he had surrounding the Society in which he lived and the people put in charge of it. As one of the head researchers it didn’t sit right with him that Faris allowed so little to be questioned, instead offering up faith as the sole reason to follow whatever whim the higher ups decided to pursue. He worked only a small branch of the Society, so much was left behind closed doors he very rarely if ever had access to. There was always, always room for questions. 

“I will never stop looking for you.” He whispered quietly enough so he was sure faris wouldn’t hear before turning and hurrying towards the steps. “I promise you, Virgil.”

This work is also available on AO3!

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[baragakiscans]

Firstly, sorry for losing the post to your ask! Tumblr shitty UI stuff happened and I accidentally deleted the draft TvT (they should make an option for asks to reappear if the draft answer got deleted or sth smh)

Secondly, IM SO SORRY FOR THE EXTREMELY LONG POST AAAAA

I tried to keep the explanations short like I did for Saraba (even that was pretty long) but then the more I tried the longer it became, and in the end what was supposed to be my take on like 2 pages of this book became this extremely long in-depth analysis of the entire book  _(´ཀ`」 ∠)_  But I mean, I’ve agonised over the translations for this book for almost half a year and I have Lots of Feelings about it because GOD I LOVE THIS BOOK

Anyway, Makkura is another one of those books with a lot of hidden layers that can be unpacked from the story with multiple rereads. Unlike Saraba where some things were intentionally left open to interpretation (I think), though, this book is slightly more straightforward, and I’d like to offer my take on the story.

Long post and Makkura spoilers below the cut!

At the beginning of the story, Gintoki and Hijikata were already dating (secretly-but-not-so-secretly). They’ve clearly been dating for a while now; Hijikata coming over to Gintoki’s place to stay the night (though he’d usually be gone by morning), mayonnaise in the Yorozuya fridge, etc… Though their displays of affection were rather subdued, to the onlooker (and everyone else around them) these two idiots were so obviously crazy in love with each other 💕💕 However, there is something that seems a little… off about their relationship, and this something would have continued lurking in the shadows…

The beginning of the end…?

…Had Gintoki not lost all of his memories of his relationship with Hijikata. Gone was the man who would become agitated at the mere thought of his beloved going into danger; the man before Hijikata now barely knew him, and the thought of dating the Demon Vice Commander would never have crossed his mind.

Imagine waking up to find out that your boyfriend has forgotten all about his relationship with you and makes THIS face at the mere thought of shacking up with you

What Hijikata did next may seem illogical at first (and don’t get me wrong, it really is), but it makes a bit more sense once you realise what exactly was off about their relationship.

You see, Hijikata didn’t think that he was good enough for Gintoki.

If you’re familiar with Syaku’s works, you may have noticed a particular trope being rather common: Hijikata and/or Gintoki falling in love with the other, yet not taking the step forward because they were afraid of getting in the way of the other’s creed—to protect.

Looks familiar? ;)

In Makkura, they did manage to take that step forward (regardless of who made that step first), but even so, there’s always been a niggling doubt somewhere in the back of Hijikata’s mind that maybe—just maybe—Gintoki would be better off without him. Hijikata would do everything in his power to protect the Shinsengumi, and he knows that Gintoki would do the same to protect those he holds dear. It just didn’t occur to him that he was one of them, too. Instead, he was afraid of Gintoki straying from his path because of him.

Gintoki losing his memories was like a wake-up call to Hijikata, that his relationship with Gintoki was too good to be true—and if it will all come to an end eventually anyway, then he should be the one to pull the plug first, especially since the perfect opportunity to reset everything to a clean state has presented itself. He pretended that nothing happened between the two of them. He told Gintoki to “Forget about all this. Everything.” He tried to convince himself that he should make a clean break and completely remove himself from Gintoki’s life, and be content with merely watching from afar.

Maybe Hijikata thought that since he and Gintoki never confirmed their relationship, the people around them will just shrug it off, or won’t notice the change in behaviour. But needless to say, everyone around them immediately noticed that something was wrong. And they even had Hijikata’s inner thoughts all figured out.

The Shinsengumi members know their vice commander too well XD

Even Gintoki himself had managed to put two and two together, but he just couldn’t figure out why he fell in love with the man with whom he always fights like cats and dogs. And since Hijikata himself was so adamant on nothing happening, all he could do was watch as the man-who-is-apparently-his-lover-but-he-somehow-forgot told him to stay out of his way. That’s why, it’s up to everyone else to restore Gintoki’s memories and get these two idiots back together.

While the Yorozuya kids were scrambling to find the antidote, Hijikata opted to go down the slippery slope of self-abandonment by meeting the pervert Bakufu official despite knowing full well what might happen to him. He thought it was all for the sake of the Shinsengumi, but seeing Gintoki down the hallway jolted him back to his senses and made him realise just how wrong he was. He realised the reason why he was actually doing this—to see if Gintoki would come to his aid, to see if Gintoki was still the man he knows and love. He realised that he doesn’t want to give his body to anyone anymore—anyone else, that is. He realised just how truly madly deeply in love he was with Gintoki.

What indeed…

By the time he realised this, though, it already seemed too late; it didn’t seem like Gintoki was going to save him. So, he resolved to keep his memories of Gintoki as a happy dream, and was ready to succumb to despair—when Gintoki finally comes to the rescue! (Not sure if Yamazaki didn’t press the button on purpose here) Of course, Gintoki was pissed off that Hijikata would do something this reckless. So he told Hijikata, “You should treasure yourself more…” (BTW, the original Japanese really only had “You should _______ more…”, I had to fill in the blanks) That’s when Hijikata realised that he was right all along; Gintoki hasn’t changed, even without Hijikata’s memories. And that’s all he needed to know.

And over in this exhibit we have the exact moment when Gintoki fell in love all over again

Right when Gintoki was about to profess his love say something to Hijikata, the kids finally arrive with the antidote! And Sougo even figured out that Gintoki doesn’t really need the antidote anymore since he’s in back in love with Hijikata XD But of course Gintoki wants to remember. Of course he wants to remember all about his time together with the man he now knows he loves. He drinks the antidote—

Ohhhh boy shit’s about to go DOWN

—And we arrive at the emotional climax of the story. Gintoki’s furious—Of course he would be; his lover just tried to erase himself from his life, thinking that it was for his sake! Gintoki thought that Hijikata had underestimated him—in a way, he’s right; Hijikata had underestimated just how much Gintoki needs him. He knew that Gintoki loves him, but he also thought that Gintoki should forsake him for the sake of those he wants to protect.

That’s why Gintoki let Hijikata know just how much he means to him. He has already come to know all of him, so he can’t ever bring himself to let him go. That’s when Hijikata started to realise that he was wrong about Gintoki, and wrong about himself. He meant much more to Gintoki than he ever thought he did.

This led to the one exchange that I wrote out this entire analysis for—

Did I really write 1800 words just for this? Yes. Yes I did.

If Hijikata really meant so much to him, then does that mean Gintoki would have tried to erase himself from Hijikata’s world for his sake, too? Gintoki doesn’t think so, but that’s after everything that has happened so far. Who’s to say he wouldn’t do it if their positions really were reversed at the beginning of the story? They both know that, because they both hold on so dearly to the same beliefs, the same pride.

That led to Gintoki throwing the question back at Hijikata—does that mean Hijikata would fall in love with Gintoki again even without his memories, just like Gintoki did? In asking this, Gintoki was telling Hijikata that, even if he were to do the same, deep down, he would still want Hijikata to fall in love with him again. And that’s when Hijikata realised—it was the same for him, too.

At that point, the two of them came to the same conclusion—neither of them can live without the other anymore. Yet, even if their positions were reversed, they would still have done the same. And even if that were to happen, they would still arrive at this same conclusion. They both love the other too much to let go; yet, they both love the other so much that they’d be willing to let go. Now that they both know this, their bond has become truly unbreakable.

Hijikata’s reply was therefore an affirmation—

“Even so, you’d have done the same. Even so, I’ll still fall in love with you.”

That’s just the way both of them are.

And so, at the end of the story, we now have Gintoki who wants Hijikata to know just how much he loves him (maybe becoming more possessive in the process?), and Hijikata who now knows just how much Gintoki loves him, and has come to forgive himself for loving him. Their relationship is one full of contradictions, yet no matter what happens, they will both find their way back to the place where they belong—in (or should I say on?) each other’s arms.

Look at the how much love there is in Hijikata’s eyes just LOOK AT IT AAAAA

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why Makkura is one of my top Ginhiji doujins of all time! I really really hope that my translation managed to do it justice, and I hope my ramblings were coherent enough TvT 

If you’ve managed to read this far, do give Makkura a reread and you just might see it in a different light ;) Of course, my interpretation might be different from what Syaku intended to present, so feel free to come up with your own interpretations as well!

Also, halfway through writing this I found an analysis by @mugimarumaru over in the MRM comments section, so do check it out as well :>

Thank you for coming to my TED talk and hope you have a nice day~

(I wish I’d put in this much effort in my college essays)

- JJ

(P.S. The REAL question here: if their roles were reversed would that make it a Hijigin book 🤔🤔🤔)

[unicyclehippo]

prompt: beau is *brilliant* but is flippant and hesitant to show it. sometimes the nein forget until they're reminded of this. aka beau is more than an athletic prodigy & it shows (i absolutely adore your writing btw & im so so grateful you share it with us)

human feat: prodigy—you have a knack for learning new things

//

it’s blazing hot, the blue sky burned nearly white, and the whole world smells like sulphur and iron and grass. it smells hot, like the world is one careless spark away from bursting into flame.

beau is eight and follows behind the new carpenter from the main house down to the woodshed, where she definitely isn’t supposed to be, and certainly not in the pretty dress she’s been dragged into. she flits from tree to tree, crawls on hands and knees behind the low brick wall that leads down to fields left and the stables and sheds to the right.

‘afternoon, miss beauregard,’ odwin calls to her as she contemplates how to sneak to the next portion of the wall. ‘you feel like standing upright or d’you prefer to wander with a new perspective?’

beau sighs. stands, brushing dust off her hands onto her dress. she frowns over at odwin. ‘how did you know i was there? i thought i hid really well.’

‘aye, you did. didn’t see you once.’

‘then,’

‘my deaf mum would’ve heard you coming, though.’

‘oh.’ beau crinkles her nose. ‘alright. i’ll work on that. what are you doing today?’

‘taking you back up to the house, i imagine.’

‘don’t bother, i’ll just leave again.’

‘i have t’take you back, miss beauregard...’

‘no you don’t. i’ll tell them i made you entertain me. if they even ask, which they won’t. are you doing anything fun?’

‘fun? aye, i suppose so. i’m using the oak wood we got in the last shipment to put together more casks. to put your fathers wine in, see.’

‘i thought the wine was bottled.’

‘it is. eventually. first though, well, after the brewing and fermenting, however that’s all figured, the wine sits nice and tight in the casks for, oh, at least a year. down in the cellars, nice and cool and dark. then he bottles ‘em and sends ‘em out.’

‘huh. and you make the barrels?’

‘aye, some of them.’

‘can i help?’

odwin sucks thoughtfully on his teeth, eyeing the girl for a moment. her dress—pretty as it once was—is already ruined from crawling in the dirt, a tear or two where she’s snagged it in the fence. it isn’t his place to say it but the girl isn’t suited to the indoors. it certainly isn’t his place to say it, but the girl isn’t suited to the parents she has.

he should say no.

‘you’ll be careful,’ he tells her, fuzzy brows settling sternly over dark eyes. ‘my tools aren’t play things, you realise.’ she nods quickly. ‘and you’ll stay put and just watch. i’m not having you lose a finger because of me.’

‘is that likely?’ she asks, intrigued.

such a strange child, he thinks, not for the first time.

‘well, no, not with what i’m doing today,’ he admits.

she steps up right beside him, eight years old and already nearly taller than him. she seemed to grow like a weed—tall and haphazard, all knees and elbows, and all of a sudden. he could’ve sworn she had been a half foot shorter only last week.

‘it’ll be fine then,’ she tells him, and smiles wide enough to show off the gap in her teeth, off to the right where she’d lost the last of her baby teeth.

odwin sighs. hopes this won’t lose him his position. so long as no one sees, it should be fine, right?

the woodshed is large, made for the human who had held the position before him. half-finished barrels, lids, and piles of the untreated wood have been placed around the outskirts of the room. to one side is a table and shelves with his tools and aprons; he ties his around his waist and points to a low stool.

‘you can sit there. don’t—‘ he pulls a bullhead hammer from her hands. ‘don’t touch anything.’

beau sighs. sits.

he endeavours to ignore her, working slowly at the task at hand, but it proves rather difficult. the girl has a pair of eyes on her like nothing else, crystal clear blue and intent on everything around her. for the first few minutes, she had scoured the inside of the shed, noting everything and its place, and then her attention had settled on him and never shifted.

‘how come you’re not bending the planks?’

‘staves.’

‘what?’

‘they’re called staves,’ odwin tells her. pauses a moment to wipe his brow. glancing over at his bare furnace, he can see it’s almost ready for him to begin softening one of the more complete barrels. ‘if i set ‘em in a second hoop, they’d crack. or splinter, and we don’t want that, no miss.’

beau just hums. adjusts her position—seated now upon a small barrel instead of the top-low foot stool—and settles still once more.

it goes on for some time, her asking the occasional question and him answering as best he can—sometimes with little more than a simple, this is how i was taught to do it, and she seems satisfied with that.

finally, when he rolls his shoulders out from their hunch, hammering the staves into alignment, he casts a look over at the girl. pretty layered dress all a mess, a healing scratch on her cheek from an old adventure, scuffed boots and loose laces peeking out from beneath the hem of her skirts. he reverses his hold on the hammer, holds it out to her.

‘care to give it a go?’

blue eyes light up, lightning in a bottle. she doesn’t take a moment to leap up, doesn’t question it for a second.

before too long, with surprisingly few corrections, beau has helped him to put together the first half of a functional barrel. they set it over the low fire, allowing it to soak and soften and eventually to toast, and he draws her back, offers her a cup of water. the jug is warm, almost hot from having sat on his work table all afternoon, and he thinks to apologise for it but the girl doesn’t seem to mind.

strange, curious girl.

‘you did very well today,’ he tells her. ‘you’ve a knack.’

‘what’s a knack?’ she asks, eyes narrowed and lips all a scowl like she expects it to be bad.

‘natural skill. my wife calls it a quickness. somethin’ you pick up real fast. maybe,’ he says, corners of his eyes crinkling with a smile, ‘you were a cooper in a past life.’

beau smiles, a mightily awkward expression on her face. ‘i like making stuff,’ she tells him, and odwin watches her relax into a real smile, big and unrestrained, when he simply nods.

//

‘learning a language is something that will require your full attention, miss lionette. tardiness will not be permitted, and a reluctance to practice will not earn you a reprieve—just more work. am i understood?’

her teacher is a strict woman and reminds beau of a spider. short sleek black bair clings tight to her scalp, and her dowdy grey school marm attire is made of some material that seems fuzzy and sharp all at once. a pair of glass lenses sit at the end of a barely there nose and she looks down at beau through them.

‘am i understood, miss lionette?’

‘huh? oh, yeah.’

‘you will speak in proper sentences in my classroom,’ the spider tells her, before launching into her first lesson.

beauregard is ten and school-bound. it had taken a full decade, apparently, for her dad to reluctantly agree that yup, she’s the one he’s got, and he should make the most of it by actually letting her learn things he would’ve taught the son of his dreams. bookkeeping, mathematics, finances, whatever. all beau takes from it is that the wood shed, the lake, the stables are now all well outside of her reach , locked as she is under the spider’s attention, and so she has to resort actually learning things to keep herself occupied.

the days pass in piles of paper and scratched tally marks on the lid of her desk.

she holds up a hand, ink splattered as usual. she can’t seem to get the grip right, an ache building in the fleshy bit of her palm after only a short while.

‘miss lionette,’ the spider says after a moment, making her wait. ‘you have a question?’

‘i’m done. can i leave?’

‘done?’ the spider coughs a laugh. ‘you had twenty problems, miss lio—‘

‘i’ve done ‘em. can i go now? please?’ she tacks on, remembering that sometimes helps.

the spider’s brows tug high on her forehead. she waves a hand. ‘bring them here.’

beau pushes back. her chair scrapes on the stone floor and the spider winces, an admonishment on her lips that beau ignores in favour of the hopeful flutter in her belly that she’ll actually get to go outside today. maybe even make it to the lake before the sun sets! catch that toad she saw in the reeds last time. she hands the papers over, watches the spider’s mouth pinch in distaste, examining the ink splotched pages. then, little by little, the distaste fades, and her brows crawl even higher.

beau fidgets with the tight collar of this stupid dress she’s in and flicks her eyes to the window.

‘these are well done, miss lionette,’ she hears the spider say.

darts a look up into magnified eyes, a yellow green the same colour of the lake reeds. ‘so i can go?’

‘do you enjoy learning halfling?’

beau huffs a sigh. ‘it’s fine.’ she bites her tongue so she doesn’t ask again. she never gets things when she asks for them too many times; it’s rude, or whatever.

‘you have grasped the basics of it very quickly.’

she shrugs. ‘it’s easy. there’s only four more letters than in common, and they always go with the same other letters. and the grammar is basically the same, except for questions.’

‘ah—yes. that’s very true.’ the spider taps beau’s pages of work into something more regular and sets them aside. then, folding her hands on the desk in front of her, she smiles. ‘you may go play. but i will see you here again promptly, miss lionette,’

‘after lunch tomorrow, i know,’ beau agrees, already breathless with excitement, and she ignores the spider’s reprimand as she tears from the room to her bedroom, struggling out of her dress and into better clothes, things no one minds if she gets them muddied or torn.

//

the monastery is grim and too much like the prison she was just bought out of for beau’s liking. the only thing it has going for it is the whole learning how to punch people thing, and that beau is fine with throwing her whole self into.

she stands rigid as a statue on the borders of the training room, which echoes with shouts of exertion and pain from the other monks. trainees, all with new crisp vestments like the ones she’s wearing, all with their heads shaved too. beau’s eyes are the only part of her that aren’t still, swivelling nearly out of her head as she sees the monks aren’t all human or elven—she sees halflings, half orcs, tieflings even among the intake.

‘here.’ a rough hand shoves a staff into her hands. smooth wood, about six feet. there’s a sudden stabbing pain as she holds it—the wood is white and all too familiar: oak. her trainer doesn’t notice or doesn’t care and she sweeps her own staff down to crack painfully against beau’s ankle, making her jump to the left.

‘hey, watch it,’

‘you watch it, greenstick,’ she retorts, face wide and stoic as a fucking brick. ‘guard.’

she doesn’t tell beau how to do that, but beau has never needed anyone to tell her how to do anything.

for that first day, beau earns bruises and smarting fingers. the day after that, she earns perhaps one less. on the third day, she realises that she can hit them back. a moment after she thinks it finds her trainer reeling back, catching beau’s staff in one hand. she rubs at her sore jaw with the other.

her trainer grins. tosses beau her staff back. ‘usually takes greensticks longer ‘n that. good work. guard.’

//

‘what are you working on?’

‘ah.’ caleb slips a hand over the spines of the books he clutches to his chest. beau doesn’t read too much into it, especially not when he immediately then offers them to her to look at. it’s a protective thing. she gets it.

‘algorithum’s of natural entropy and evolution, transmutation theorem’s, grades three and four, the power of herbalism in ritual—this is for nott’s thing?’

‘ah,’ caleb says again. she obviously had interrupted a train of thought, bursting in on his wandering through the stacks like this. ‘y-yes, yes in a way. and research, always.’

‘cool.’

he takes back his books. blinks owlishly at her.

fuck. she misses owl frumpkin.

‘need any help?’

‘certainly,’ he agrees, more readily now that he has the precious books back where they belong—in his hands, that is, not in their home on the shelves—and he waves to the place at his side for her to join him.

‘wanna tell me what you’re thinking about? maybe i just happen to know some shit about it. at least i can keep an eye out later.’

‘hmm? oh. well, there is—there is a spell, i believe, that halas has... ah... redesigned? it is an advanced form of polymorph—‘

‘polymorph two.’

caleb chuckles. ‘true polymorph, it is called. in some circles. i do not - i am not capable of casting it, but i can recognise it’s...equation. in what i have seen.’

‘mhm.’

‘i believe that if i am able to - to blend it in some way with another spell, perhaps an illusion or...’ caleb trails off, drags a finger over his chin thoughtfully. the scratch, scratch, scratch of his nail over stubble is the only accompaniment to their journey, other than their quiet steps. the library is not busy so late in the evening. not tonight.

‘what about a clerics spell?’ beau suggests. ‘it’d be crossed, ah, spell work—i dunno what you call that—but if you found a way to mix a revivify maybe? or resurrection?’

she stops when she realises caleb has stopped. his eyes—blue, like her own, but so often cool, glacial almost, are nearly white with the fire sparked in them.

‘beauregard,’

‘is that stupid?’

‘it’s brilliant! i don’t know if it will work, it would be mixing magics in a way i have never attempted, but if - the ritual could be prayer, or i have seen - for scrying and communing and the like, certainly rituals are not foreign to clerics,’ he mutters, accent thick as he grows more and more excited about the potential as he says several times. he shifts the stack of books into the crook of one arm and wraps the other around beau’s neck, pulling her in to plant a whiskery kiss to her forehead. ‘brilliant!’

‘ew.’

//

‘dorok! the undercommon is unfamiliar but the word is recognisable—halt!

the nein freeze, ice dripping down their spines as they consider being caught here in the shadow glade, far too close to the beacons for any deception to get them out of. turning, they take in the sight of the guards in their dark, jagged armour. the obvious mistrust on their faces. seeming holds over the nein’s forms, keeping them in their drow appearances, but it hadn’t hit until precisely this moment the drawback of not understanding the fucking language.

‘akarish iv’viosk na-doth rakki ishnau,’ beau calls back to them. her form is bulkier, typical of a drow warrior, and with proud angular features. her tone, though they cannot understand her words, drips with importance.

‘what the fuck is she doing?’

‘shh, shut up,’ jester hisses. ‘just nod when she nods.’

beau nods. the nein nod as well.

the guards narrow their eyes. speak quickly to beau, tone a little less strident, more conversational. she responds in kind and after a long, tense moment, the guards lift their spears and, with a nod, step away.

‘hey!’ drow fjord whispers when they’re gone. ‘what was that! that was fucking sick!’

‘very impressive,’ caleb agrees. ‘but let us keep moving.’

‘definitely. they won’t be gone forever,’ beau agrees. ‘thanks for the seeming, caleb, they can’t see that i’m fucking dripping with sweat. dude—‘ drow beau slaps a hand against fjord’s chest, her eyes wide with only slightly exaggerated fear, ‘they would’ve killed us. like, straight up.’

‘i know! that’s what we thought would happen!’

‘it would have! but you know undercommon now?’ jester says, and asks.

‘yeah, i picked up a couple books and talked to some people while we were in rex - uh - the capital,’ she says carefully, in case the name of the city might set off an alarm.

‘you learned undercommon?’ yasha interjects softly. ‘just like that?’ she clicks her fingers.

‘kinda? i’m a bit rusty,’

‘you’re obviously fine if you tricked those guards,’

‘i think i used the past tense for gardening—oh yeah, i told them we are gardeners so cad, you’d better tell me all you know about, i dunno, tubers.’

‘i’d love to!’

‘sweet. let’s move, people!’

[tf-guru]

From selling to building [f->Raven] MC

Isn't it crazy how one simple decision can change your entire life. Investing in the right place at the right places, losing your life savings after a shady internet deal, hell even forgetting your coffee one morning causing you to collide with a lamppost. God I would kill for even a sip of coffee, hard to get it in my current situation. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

My name was Valley Jackson, one of the most successful realtors in Southern California. I don't know why I'm creating this manuscript in my head, its not like I'll be able to write or even tell someone about it. Maybe it's what I would create if I were to be human again. Maybe it's just to keep me sane. Regardless here's what happened.

I had been traveling north to LA to secure a deal with one of my higher paying clients, normally I'd have them come to me but due to their status I decided to make the drive. I was on the highway around 10:30 at night when I missed my exit. That little mistake cost me everything...

Valley let out an exasperated curse as she looked ahead to see when the next exit would be coming up. In her 42 years of living in California she had visited LA maybe three times. Seeing the next exit approached she signaled and got off the highway. She was 5'6" with an absolutely stunning figure. At that time her auburn hair hung just below her shoulders and her nails were painted white. She looked down at her gps and saw as it started to emmit static before shutting off entirely

"Damn it" she muttered as she realized she was in the middle of nowhere. After about a half hour of driving in circles she finally was about to give up and try again in the morning when a sign glinted just ahead. It read "Pan's antique shop. Open 24 hours! Maps and sightseeing guides provided."

"Oh thank god! Kinda strange its open 24 hours but I guess when tourism is your biggest income it wouldn't hurt to take in a late night traveler."

Soon she pulled into the long driveway marked by another sign. Down the road was a decent sized rustic store. Its arched windows alight with a yellow glow. She parked her car and entered the shop. Behind the counter was a twenty something man who was reading a book. He looked up and said

"Hi welcome to Pan's antique shop. What can I help you with?" Valley replied

"Oh I'm on my way to LA and missed my exit, do you have a map I could look at?"

"Sure, feel free to look around while I get them."

As he took a door behind his desk Valley looked around. There were various items, old political pins, rotary phones, a Walkman, but Valley only saw one thing that caught her eye. It was a pair of Raven shaped earrings. She was drawn to them almost magnetically, their golden beaks glinting in the shops lights.. She grabbed them and headed back to the counter. The man had returned with a few traveling maps.

"Did you find something you like?"

"Yeah, just these earrings. I take it you're Pan?"

He gave a small chuckle with a hint of something else but Valley couldn't quite determine what

"Oh no, definitely not. Pan's the owner, I just work night shift."

"Ah, well thank you!" She paid for the earrings and grabbed the maps.

"Drive safe!"

As Valley started to leave she suddenly felt really lightheaded before passing out completely.

"We're just gonna head about a hundred more feet ahead then we've made it to the camping spot."

Valley opened her eyes to see one of the magnificent California redwoods ahead of her. Confused, she looked over to see who spoke.

"You okay Valley? You look kinda pale." The speaker was a woman around her age with brown hair and a more slim figure than Valley's

"Who are you? How do you know my name?"

"Uh Valley are you okay? Its me, your childhood friend Hailey? Do you seriously not know? Maybe we should look at that medici-"

"Im just kidding Hailey!" She was sensitive about discussing her medication. New memories appeared as she realized she did know Hailey, of course she did. She also remembered how she had decided to take this trip to celebrate Haileys 40th birthday.

"So just another 100ft Hay?"

"Yeah, if you're sure you're alright."

The pair continued the 100 feet before coming across a good enough sized clearing. Valley looked around while Hailey removed her tent bag from her back.

"You gonna help or just gawk?"

"Be right there Hailey!"

After some tribulations the pair managed to secure the tent to the ground. Valley removed two sleeping bags from her backpack and the pair began to undress. However as Valley took off her jeans something clattered to the ground. She reached down and picked up a pair of Raven earrings. Hailey turned around and froze.

"That's odd, I thought I got these on my way to-" she stopped as regained recollection of what had just been happening a few hours prior. She scratched her arm and looked at Hailey

"Oh uh silly Valley dont you remember getting those at the trail gift shop?"

"I got these at an antique shop today. In fact, I don't remember what happened after that. Did you drug me?"

"Valley you're not thinking clearly must be the medi-"

"No! Its not my medication! I don't even know you!"

"Valley I-"

"Did you bring me here to kidnapp me? Are people coming to kill me? I'm leaving!" Valley exited the tent with no pants or shirt and started to head back to the road.

"Wait!" Valley gave the finger and continued.

"I said wait." Hailey said in a dominant tone and Valley suddenly felt her knees lock. Something or someone was controlling her.

"What the hell?"

"Valley, I'm sorry it has to go this way. I was hoping-"

"Somebody help! Somebod-"

"Silence" Valley tried to scream again but no sound came out. She looked back to Hailey, terrified.

"Im sorry you're having to go through this. Here's how its gonna go, you are going to transform into a raven in a minute or two. My name is Hailey but this isn't me"

Before Valleys eyes Hailey underwent her own transformation. Her breasts retreated slightly into her chest as she lost some height. Her features softened and when it completed she looked to be in her early twenties.

"Im gonna give you the ability to speak and move but please don't scream."

She snapped her fingers and Valley fell to the ground. She looked up at Hailey and retorted

"I dont know what kind of drugs you've filled me with but-" she looked at her arm as she felt and itch. On her left arm was a single black feather. Not laying on it but actually attached to it. She pulled at it only to feel a sharp pain. As she watched more feathers sprouted down her arm. With each feather she grimaced but as soon as they reached her hand something else happened.

Her fingers merged together to form a single appendage. Only then did she realize it was real.

"P-please don't do this to me. I have a life! A career!"

"Don't worry, Pan's already sorted everything out. All your clients belive they've been using a different realtor, your family only remembers your brother. Its all packed away."

"I want to talk to Pan, please!"

She looked at her foot and saw three sharp talons poke through her sock. With her good hand she reached down and removed the sock. To her shock her ankle was covered by a corse yellow layer of a scale like texture.

"Im sorry, no can do. Pan's pretty busy and doesn't worry about stuff like this. I can take a message though."

"Please tell him to stoooaaaawk!" She grabbed her mouth and felt as her lips began to hardnen and push back against her hand.

"I'll tell him that, here's this." She handed a small mirror to Valley who looked into it. Her face also had jet black feathers on it, removing her hand revealed a small beak forming. Three more talons burst from her other foot as she pleaded once again

"I caaaaw! I caan't be a raven! I'm a human!" Hailey walked over and removed Valley's undergarments. Looking into the mirror Valley saw her face was covered in feathers and her mouth had finished becoming a beak. Her other arm followed the first as she dropped the mirror. Trying one last time she tried to plead

"Caw! Caw caw!" No matter how hard she tried she couldn't speak. So, she reached out with her wing and touched Haileys hand. But as she reached out it became harder and harder to extend her arm as they slowly tucked behind her back. She looked down with a shiver of ironic pleasure as her anus and vagina moved together to form her cloaca. Then she began to shrink. She hunched over, her body reforming so she would never stand upright again. As the transformation finished Valley looked down into the mirror and saw her eye shift from brown to purple, she fully resembled a raven. New thoughts entered her mind

'Eggs'

'Nesting'

'Flight'

'Mating'

'Offspring'

While she retained her human thoughts and mind she now had these new impulses and urges. She looked up to see Hailey writing in small notebook.

"Valley, Raven with purple eyes, room..." she checks her watch

"Room a2e365. I'm sorry this happened but try to become acclimated with your new life. Goodbye Valley."

She then faded away, leaving Valley alone.

Well, that's my story. After Hailey left I was forced to adapt to my new body. The first month I would continually hope to just wake up in my bed, ready for my old life. But that never happened. I got used to eating whatever I could find and flying oh flying. If there is any upside to the change (I still want to go back to my old life every day) its flying. Being able to soar through the skies unrestricted is freeing. The area im in is strange because if I fly more than around two miles in any direction I blink and end up back at the (now gone) campsite. I eventually figured put how to build a nest. Its not much, just some twigs in a tree but its mine.

One day I was doing my daily routine when I heard a whistle from bellow me. Soaring down I saw Hailey with a bag of birdseed. I perched on a tree branch near her and stared at her with resent. I continued my gaze until she extended some seed and my bird instincts took over and I automatically ate some.

"Thats better, I'm sorry I took so long to visit. How are you doing? I know its a big change but at least you have plenty of room to fly around. I got you this by the way, should make things easier."

She hung a small bird feeder on a nearby branch and continued

"Well, I'll be back." And she left me alone once again. She still visits every once in a while telling me more about how I'm lucky I still have my intellect and how I could behave been left as a mindless bird. I guess I am kinda lucky. Hold on, I see another Raven approaching my nest. Ooo he's a male, maybe ill get to feel the full bird experience ;)

[aimerriarkle]

okay episode six of tfatws

just my thoughts throughout :)

sam <3 sam <3

sam you caring, empathetic, intelligent, handsome mf

also. the show just laid out a whole entire episode, blatantly showing us how fucking perfect sam wilson is for captain america... so stop saying it should be bucky or that it should be any other white man

it is lost on me how some people would still think that way after this

now back to the program... SAM <3

a hero if I’ve ever seen one

things he did here: encouraged a woc to step up and save the helicopter; saved the pilot from getting killed by the other crashing helicopter—and saved anyone else near them from being harmed because physics will tell you it wouldn’t only be the pilot who got hurt by the impact; came to the rescue at the very last minute and saved the truck from falling; chose to not fight karli—like at all; brought her to the medics after she died; and he unapologetically stood up to the politicians about what exactly they’ve been doing wrong

and i really wanna highlight how that scene was written to take place in front of the public and be broadcasted in the news

like I’m glad it happened that way because it gave sam the opportunity to make his introduction as the new captain america to be someone who stands for and with the marginalized communities

I think doing it that way will definitely negate the possible distrust a lot of people would have had if he was introduced (to the public) as a hero who worked for the government or even if he was just merely introduced by the government

like it really emphasizes how in the public eye, sam as captain america will be seen as someone who is more than the typical heroic figures they’ve seen before

and idk maybe I’m jumping to conclusions but I think this’ll *maybe* be important to how civilians will see the avengers in the future? maybe? idk? but yeah

anyway his fit!!! the wings and the shield!!! idk much about storytelling through fight choreography but this man used the shield and the wings very well

redwing’s back 🥺

sam getting isaiah the recognition he deserves !!!!!!

im really looking forward to seeing how they’re going to introduce eli bradley as a hero in the mcu (I don’t read the comics so idk what happens)

we got like 0.5 seconds torres but I’m excited to see how marvel introduces him as the new falcon as well

zemo’s butler is his hitman wow, the job must pay well. and look at that old mf go

sharon :) now that’s a villain origin story. you guys better say sorry to her before she comes and kills you as the powerbroker—cue criminal by britney spears “but mama I’m in love with a criminal”

so remember episode 3? if zemo hadn’t killed nagel, then he would’ve definitely recognized sharon right? so what was home girl thinking when she strolled into nagel’s lab, trying to get the trio to leave... like surely he would’ve called her out to be the powerbroker then and there right?

I’m excited to see where she appears next cause theres a lot of explaining to do ms sharon carter

okay i wasn’t even gonna talk about john walker because—yikes. but here it is anyway. i didnt like that they made him out to still have morals because he chose to save the van instead of continuing his pursuit on the flag smashers. I mean yeah it’s great that he attempted at saving them because people change(?) or whatever but he’s still sus because he’s working with valentina—whose intentions are still ambiguous... point is, while I think that it’s a great way to make his character more complicated and have more layers in the situation where they decide to bring him further into the mcu, imo it’ll worsen the john walker empathizers because they have something “good” to say about him

okay back to sharon, so it’s unclear to me whether she was pardoned because sam helped her or because of the fact that she killed karli. if it’s actually the latter then,,, that itches me. like it only shows that the senator didn’t listen to sam and only continued to antagonize karli to the point where he pardoned her killer, instead of trying to understand where she was coming from when sam confronted him about it

is karli really dead? I know she got shot but where? and if it’s just in the stomach, she should been fine right because she’s a super soldier? Idk but ig the storyline is over... unless

anyway, bucky when he got thanked for saving them from the truck on fire :’(

bucky with kids

i overlooked this in the last episode because it happened there as well, but bucky letting his metal arm be exposed in sam’s hometown is just :’)... like tell me you feel at home without telling me you feel at home :(

bucky finally giving yori closure on his sons death

also, I know it’s just a bodily reaction or whatever, but the way that bucky’s eyes dilated when he watched sam confront the politicians

(28:52)

(29:59)

it’s very minimal, but it’s there

okay I don’t know if this happened in an earlier scene, but at 09:46 the when subtitles said “[captain america grunts]” I was like HELL YEAH CAPTAIN AMERICA DID GRUNT!! YES HE DID INDEED GRUNT 👏👏👏

sam taking pictures with people from his hometown because he’s now officially a hero they can rely on 😭

:’) captain america <3

at the end credits when it said “captain america and the winter soldier” I just <3

also, i’ve seen some fans be disappointed that it didn’t say captain america and the white wolf and tbh I’m glad it did not say that

while i do love bucky as well and appreciate that his character was supposed to put the winter soldier behind him because it’s not who he is anymore and just make amends with the people that he hurt,

i think it would’ve been too premature to have him be introduced as the white wolf, especially since he only finished crossing out the names just this episode—and I think it would’ve been too random like I don’t see how the writers could’ve slipped that in, in an episode as packed as this one was to have a significant impact on the audience and the character

and not to mention, I definitely think that him being introduced as the white wolf in tandem to sam being introduced as captain america, would’ve taken away from sam’s moment.

like it’s not news that most of the fans who loveee bucky will literally fall on their knees and worship to extremes every little thing that happens to him. and like I understand that, i get it, but his fans would have—for sure—taken the moment away from our boy sam wilson, the ✨captain america✨

I think bucky’s official introduction as the white wolf warrants another story to be told

so it’s valid to be upset by that, I’m not hating on any bucky stans or anything. I simply disagree and hope that you guys don’t complain about it too much to the point where it takes away from sam lol

and honestly, it’ll come eventually anyway so yeah

the ending where sam and bucky just look off into the sunset made me cackle idk why but it’s great they finally get to have a serene moment together

I’m so proud of anthony!!! I can’t wait to see how sam/captain america continues on in the mcu

anyway, give it up for captain america and the winter soldier 👏

and I have the sudden urge to go sight seeing

so brb I’m gonna book a flight to paris and see the eiffel tower

[kittykat222]

Save Me Part 2

You should know that there is mention of sexual assault so if that triggers you then please please please don’t read it. Just message me and I’ll give you a fluffy tododeku story instead!

The familiar warmth of Todoroki's tongue caused Midoriya to shudder, that wonderful feeling of blood being licked off his body was enough to wake him up. The sounds cutting through the fog that had settled in his mind. For a brief moment Midoriya could almost feel Todoroki's cool embrace. It was a living hell to be so lost in yourself, only feeling brief sensations of pain and pleasure. Every word his boyfriend spoke sounded muffled, every caress was just barely felt, every movement dizzying. Oh how desperately Izuku wanted to scream, to cry into his beloved's shoulder, to hold and be held. But nothing worked. It was as if his brain and his body weren't connected. So he was forced to watch as Todoroki cried and begged him to react, knowing full well nothing would work.

Izuku closed his eyes and focused, his mind might be muddled but a fragmented memories always found their way back. He could remember the first time Todoroki bit him, it was such a painful moment in his life and yet it saved him from falling apart. A villain had tried to rape him when Todoroki intervened and set the man on fire without mercy.

"Are you alright?" Without a second thought Todoroki had removed his jacked and wrapped it around Deku, covering up his half naked body.

"I-I'm fine s-so it's okay. He didn't-" Deku couldn't help but throw up at the realization of what had happened to him. The shock and horror of his situation becoming painfully apparent as he took notice of his torn up costume. Deku immediately held his arms to his chest trying to cover himself even though Todoroki's jacket was already around him.

"You're not fine. You need to see a doctor."

"He-he t-told me I was...his! That I belong to him-"

Todoroki immediately leans in and bites the base of Deku's neck, drawing blood almost immediately. Deku is to stunned to do anything so when Todoroki stops he can't seem to say anything.

"I've bitten you, your blood is inside of me now." He cups Deku's face before kissing him gently, "This means you're mine. You only belong to me. No one can claim you."

"Todoroki...."

"Come on, let's take you to the hospital."

That's right, maybe...if he could just...

——

Todoroki stilled when he felt Midoriya reach out to him. The dazed boy clumsily put his hand on the older one’s chest and Todoroki immediately holds his boyfriends hand, keeping it close.

“Midoriya?”

Was he responding to the bite? Did Todoroki somehow get through to him? Midoriya starts to shake as tears gradually form in his eyes.

“C...cla...im.”

“Claim?”

The younger boy finally looks up to his lover with tears cascading down his face as he struggled to form words. It took all his strength to speak again.

“Cl...aim....me.”

Realization hits and Todoroki urgently pulls Midoriya close, biting into his neck until a thick layer of blood begins seeping out. Not enough. Todoroki thinks and so he bites into the boys shoulder eventually grabbing his arm and leaving a trail of bite marks only to stop when Midoriya places a hand on top of his head.

“Th...ank...y..o..u.”

“No no no don’t shut down on me. I claimed you again so you have to obey right? Midoriya?”

But it was no use, Izuku had returned to his trance like state and merely stared into oblivion. Todoroki grits his teeth, this was so frustrating! What the hell did All For One do!?

“I’m taking you to recovery girl again. I’ll tell her what happened. You wouldn’t like that though would you. You never like showing my bite marks to others.”

Still no response but that wasn’t going to stop him.

“I know you can hear me, your just scared aren’t you? They did something right? To put you in this state? I’m taking you back to UA, you’ll attend classes with me again.” Todoroki cups his face and looks intensely into Midoriya’s eyes. “I will save you. Don’t underestimate me.”

——-

So here it is! Wow that took a while I had so many avenues I could take that I needed to really think before deciding which one was best. I hope you all like it! Please leave a comment and tell me what you think! If there’s anything you want to see happen then just message me and I’ll see if I can incorporate it into the story! Have a blessed day!!!!

[manggojooz]

Pick A Side (Part 11)

pairing: Taehyung x reader

word count: 2,257

genre: university!au; angst; romance; a lil of thriller; a lil bit of fluff

warnings: slight references to voyeuristic behaviour; very mild swearing

previous part: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 

taglist: @destiel1597 @mila271 @hopetookmysoul @ximaginx@honeyursosweet @coffeecupyoongs@bangtanbaesstuff@annoyingpessimist @betysotelo18 @okaysoplshelpme@igot7bangs @tahaing @mochi-and-co @somewhereinthestarss​ 

comment: too much drama have been happening in real life that I kinda neglected my tumblr for a while. I’m super exhausted from all the other stuff going on in my life and I really want to keep writing. so, i guess all im trying to say is I hope you guys like this update. As always, please comment or reblog if you did like it! it helps me a lot <3 

Haejoong sits in the empty stairwell, contemplating his next step. Hardly anyone ever takes these stairs, he is well aware. Like he said, he never truly intended you any harm but why did you have to dig your own grave?  

He doesn’t understand why you wouldn’t support him like he had unconditionally supported you, wasn’t he your only friend at one time? All he wants is Jihyun’s happiness, and that happiness lies with him.  

The pertinent question now is ‘how much does Kim Taehyung know?’ He shook his head as he reprimanded himself for being too rash with you. All he needed to do was continue to put up an act even if you were suspicious of him but he let his feelings get the better of him. He needs to come up with a way to keep you quiet. No, he needs to keep both you and Taehyung quiet.  

At least he had the foresight to keep the screen of your phone unlocked ever since he stopped the voice recording. He taps the corner of the phone a few times on his palm before deciding to make his next move.  

“Hey, I know this is sudden, but do you still have feelings for Jihyun?”, he sent a message using your phone to Taehyung.  

It didn’t take more than two minutes for Taehyung to respond.  

“Did something happen? This isn’t like you to suddenly ask this kind of thing out of nowhere...”  

“I really need to know now...”, Haejoong continued talking to Taehyung, posing as you.  

“Where are you? I’ll go find you”, Taehyung replies.  

Haejoong was growing impatient, “If you avoid my question again then I’ll take it that you still have feelings for her... life is all about decisions, Taehyung, you can’t keep running away like this.”

And this time, Taehyung finally answered his question:  

“I’m not running away! Why are you acting so weird?  

I thought I made it clear that I broke up with her because I realised that I have always just treated her as a friend. And you were the one who broke up with me thinking I had feelings for her! I was just really confused at that time... and maybe a little angry too... when she asked me to think about dating her I just thought it might be better that way...

I made a mistake back then and I've already lost my best friend

You know that.

Where are you now? Let's meet and talk instead.”  

Haejoong watched the messages trickle in one by one and his annoyance ballooned. Why is it always that the people who don’t deserve it are the ones who have it? After a few minutes of leaving Taehyung on ‘read’, a call eventually comes in from him.  

Haejoong ignored the call at first, but Taehyung calls again. This time Haejoong decided to pick it up.  

“Where are you? Why are you not replying me suddenly?”, Taehyung’s voice was full of anxiety.  

“So, you never actually had any feelings for her?”, Haejoong proclaims into the phone immediately upon answering.  

“Who the hel- wait... Im Haejoong? Is that you? Where is Y/N? Why are you picking up her phone?”, Taehyung fired his questions rapidly at Haejoong.  

“I will tell you where she is. I don’t want to hurt her either-”, Haejoong’s voice was still mild and calm.  

“What do you mean hurt her?! WHERE IS SHE?!”, Taehyung yells into the device on his end.  

“She thinks that I was the one who uploaded those photos and videos of Jihyun, do you share the sentiment?”, Haejoong questions.  

“You must be out of your mind, right? You know what... with what you are doing right now, I have no problem sharing that sentiment! Just freaking tell me where she is, you crazy bastard!!!”, Taehyung was no longer holding back his anger.  

“Hey hey, calm down, she’s fine... for now... but the longer you drag this out, the harder it will be for her”, Haejoong was letting go of his act too, “I have a proposition...”  

---

Your voice was hoarse by now. There was hardly any human traffic near this part of the school in the evening, and screaming from the rooftop seven floors above ground didn’t seem to help catch anyone’s attention. Due to all the banging on the wooden door, your frozen hands were starting to feel extremely sore as well.  

You slumped onto the ground, leaning against the unmoving door, thinking of the worst that could happen. Desperation manifests in the tear drops that drips from your eyes.  

The sky was getting darker, the air was getting chillier and you were getting increasingly despondent. You start to notice that your body was not generating enough heat to keep up with the icy exterior. Every muscle was shivering. You instinctively curled up and started to rub your hands while trying to tuck them inside your coat, close to your chest. You weren’t feeling your toes anymore and the fearfulness within slowly encroaches upon the tiny glimmers of hope you held onto.  

When you heard the sound of footsteps getting closer, you thought you were hallucinating. But the stomping was indeed getting nearer and louder. You leaned close to the tiny crevice between the door and the frame, all the while not letting yourself get too expectant of the possibility that there was someone coming to you.  

“Y/N!”, a voice suddenly bellows.  

It sounds like Taehyung, but how could it be, you warned yourself not to get your hopes up high.  

“Are you in there Y/N?!”, Taehyung’s shouts come barrelling through the roof door.

With whatever energy was left, you turned and started banging on the door again, weakly calling out, “Taehyung, is that you? Taehyung...”  

“Y/N! Hold on...”, Taehyung gasps to hear your tiny voice through the door.  

You hear him frantically trying to unlock the door and when the ice-cold slab finally bursts open you almost collapse onto the floor as you were resting your entire weight on it. Taehyung somehow manages to catch you and helps you into the warm interior before shutting the door again.  

“Let’s get you to the hospital”, Taehyung was in a frenzy trying to remove his jacket to wrap you up in it.

“Haejoong, he...”, you tried to stand up but fell back down again.  

“Let’s deal with it after we get you to a doctor, please...”, he pleaded while kneeling down in front of you so that you could plop yourself onto his back.  

---

In the hospital ward, you continued to mumble about reporting Haejoong to the police and the student office, even when you were only half-conscious and hooked up to an IV drip. There were layers of blankets covering you with an electric heating mat right underneath your mattress.  

The numbness slowly started to fade away and you could wriggle your toes and fingers again.  

“It’s Haejoong, we have to tell them that it’s him”, you uttered to Taehyung who came into the tiny room with a glass of something that was smoking hot.  

“I know, I know. But you have hypothermia, you need to stay here tonight for them to monitor you. Tomorrow, ok? Tomorrow we will go do that first thing in the morning. Now drink this up and rest”, he cooed at you.  

You sit up to take the hot drink from his hands, finding it to be warm milk, but the action causes the blankets to fall off from you and you immediately shuddered slightly. Taehyung sits down on the side of the bed, slightly behind you and hugged you from behind, pulling the blankets up to cover at least your thighs.  

His body felt so warm and comfortable, you couldn’t help but lean in to him, as you took tiny sips from the mug. He rubs his hands up and down your arms to keep you warm and rest his head and watched quietly as you finished the drink. 

Once the cup was empty, he takes it from you and sets it down on the bedside table, then proceeds to quickly tuck you back into the blankets.  

“I told the hospital staff what happened and that you are probably still shaken from the events, so they are letting me stay here with you tonight. So, don’t worry ok, I will be right outside”, Taehyung reassured.  

But you weren’t just shaken. Even though you didn’t want to let it show, you were absolutely frightened. All the worst thoughts had run through your mind at least once and now that you were gaining consciousness again, the fear was rekindling.  

“Can’t you stay here? Please? I'm... cold”, you grabbed on to his wrist as he was about to leave.  

He felt your hand shaking, but it wasn’t as icy as before. He knows you must be scared but he decides to go along.  

He sits down next to you on the bed again. This time you scoot over, allowing him more space, he leans back into the two pillows behind and lets you put your head on his arms. You wrapped your blankets around him too and snuggles into his chest, listening to that same soothing heartbeat.  

“How did you know I was there just now?”, you whispered.  

“How is that important now? You need to rest, ok?”, he didn't answer.  

His other hand pats your back lightly to a slow beat, almost synchronising with the thumping in his chest and you start to drift off to sleep, knowing that for now you are safe with him.  

---

The next morning you promptly requested to be discharged and you stomped out of the ward, Taehyung anxiously tailing behind you, nagging at you to walk slower. As you exited the hospital, you see him standing at the gates, the man who landed you in this plight.  

You marched up to him, outraged and incensed. “You have the guts to show up here? What? Is it disappointing to see that I'm alive?!”, you asked through gritted teeth.  

“Who do you think sent Kim Taehyung to save you?”, Haejoong was still leaning against the wall he had been waiting at the whole morning.  

“Oh, so do you expect a thank you note, you were the one who locked me out you freaking bastard!”, you were raging by now.

He stood up straight again, causing Taehyung to jump in front of you, protecting you from him.  

Haejoong scoffs a little, “I actually just came to check if you were alright. Like I said I don’t mean to harm you, I just need you guys to stay out of my business, ok?”, he says rather earnestly.  

You couldn’t believe your ears and your eye roll was automatic. “That is very believable, yes... coming from the person who freaking chucked me on a rooftop in this weather. FYI, I nearly died, so this is my business. And Jihyun is our friend, so whatever you’ve been doing in your shady little backroom is very much our business as well!”, you yelled at him over Taehyung’s shoulders.  

Haejoong’s expression looked queer, as though he was disappointed in you and was reluctant to do what he was going to do next.  

“You didn't tell her?”, he directed his question at Taehyung. 

“Fine, make me the bad guy”, he mutters before turning to you and balking, “Go, go and report me if you want to. I’ll take him down with me”, Haejoong taunts with his hands outstretched towards the road, hinting at something going on between Taehyung and him.  

Why is he so unconcerned? You started hesitating for some reason, “What do you mean ‘take him down with you’? What did you do?”, you demanded at Haejoong.  

“No, no, no, the question should be ‘what did he do?’”, Haejoong gestures towards Taehyung who is staring back at him with an intensity you have never seen before. “I’m really surprised you didn’t tell her... why? Is it some altruistic sacrificial mindset?”, Haejoong questioned Taehyung, starting to sound like he is having fun.  

“Y/N, don’t bother about him. Let’s go”, Taehyung turns to you and tugs at your arms gently, leading you to walk away.  

Haejoong shook his head and hits a button on his phone.  

“All those photos and videos of Jihyun, you were the one who posted them?!”, the voice coming from the phone clearly sounded like Haejoong’s.  

“Im Haejoong, turn it off. Now!”, Taehyung lunges at him and grabs his shirt.  

Haejoong was unfazed and the audio kept playing. After a long pause you hear his voice, Taehyung’s voice.

“Right, it was me, are we done now?!”  

“Why did you do it, you crazy bastard?!”, Haejoong shouted in the recording, “Is it because she's your ex-girlfriend now, huh?"  

Another unnaturally long pause ensued. Taehyung tries to turn off the recording but Haejoong shoves him aside.  

“Because I realised she was the reason why Y/N and I broke up. Because... I wanted to get back at her for all the things she did... to...”, it seemed like Taehyung’s voice was shaking heavily and he couldn’t continue whatever he wanted to say.  

“All the things she did to Y/N?”, Haejoong sounded like he was prompting Taehyung in the clip.  

“It has nothing to do with her, it’s just me, okay? I just hated Jihyun for making this whole mess so I just did it, alright?! Happy now?!”, with that the audio ended.  

The horror finally sets in. So, this is how Taehyung managed to find you, because he traded himself to save you.  

[hermannsthumb]

Vacation au prompt?? Hermann’s trying to relax at the beach and keeps getting distracted by a certain tattooed surfer who seems like they can’t actually surf very well...

HEHE...... ;)))))))) also i should mention the description of newt’s cottage is a very real cottage just down the road from the beach house im staying in now

------------------------------------------

The point of it all is that Hermann needs to relax. That’s what his colleagues told him. That he’s too high-strung, too tense, too fixated on his work. He needs to make friends. He (bachelor he is) needs to meet Someone. He needs a break. He needs a vacation. Maybe there’s truth to it--in Hermann’s ten years as a professor, and his five years holed up in various laboratories before that, he has never once taken a break. He’s never once taken time to enjoy himself outside of his numbers and his chalkboards (which he really does enjoy).

Whatever Hermann’s reasoning, the semester’s end has tossed three months of absolutely nothing to do into his lap once more, and--instead of locking himself away in his home office with his research, as he typically might--he dips into his untouched and expansive savings account and rents himself a beach cottage. It’s quiet, and quaint, just like the town it’s in, barely more than a single bed, bathroom, and kitchen. It’s just what he thinks he needs. The sea air will be good for his joints, perhaps, particularly his leg. He can get a little sun. He’s always so dreadfully pale.

He experiences a few major setbacks the moment he reaches the town.

There is the cottage, which is far more unkempt than the photographs online led Hermann to believe. The porch is sagging badly, with wooden planks that creak worryingly beneath Hermann’s feet; the front lock sticks; the hot water takes a good minute to kick in; the showerhead leaks. (The bed, at least, is comfortable, and there is a pleasant view of the ocean from one of the two windows.) Then there is the matter of the sun and the sea breeze, or really the lack thereof--it rains the entirety of his first week, and Hermann does not leave the cottage (which also leaks, he discovers) once. It’s fine, really. He brought his research just in case, so it’s not as if he’ll get bored.

The sun reemerges on a rather breezy Tuesday, though it’s weak and watery, and only in bursts behind clouds, which means it’s an ideal day to finally make the quick trek down to the beach and get set on properly relaxing. No threat of sunburn. Hermann applies sunblock and shrouds himself in white linen and a sunhat anyway just in case.

It’s difficult to navigate across the sand with his cane at first, but Hermann manages eventually, and he sets up his chair on the flattest looking spot he can find and settles in to read his book. It’s a good beach day all around, by virtue of it being a bad beach day for anyone else--no shrieking children or obnoxious teenagers. It’s practically deserted.

Practically.

There has been a man surfing since Hermann got here. Or perhaps trying to surf--he has not, in fact, successfully caught a single wave. Or really even managed to stand up on his board (which is painted an eye-stinging neon green). Hermann watches him slip off of it no less than three times; on attempt number four, he manages to crouch, at least until he’s wiped out again. It’s like some sort of terrible trainwreck. Hermann can’t bring himself to look away. On attempt number eight, the wave that hits the man is big enough to drag him and his surfboard all the way to the shore, and he hits the wet sand with an audible smack that makes Hermann wince. When he doesn’t immediately pop back up, Hermann sighs, tosses aside his book, and prepares to struggle across more sand. 

He’s still laying on his stomach by the time Hermann gets to him. He looks as if he’s still breathing, so he probably hasn’t snapped his neck or anything like that. “Are you alright?” Hermann says, and, after a second, prods the man’s arm with the end of his cane.

“Peachy,” the man mumbles. “Why’d you ask?”

“It looked painful, is all,” Hermann says. “I wanted to make sure you were--well, conscious.”

The man turns himself over with a small groan, and--even through the layer of sand that coats his forehead and nose, and despite his wild wet mass of hair--Hermann is startled to find he’s quite attractive. Hazel eyes. Freckled, unshaven cheeks. A nice roundness about him that his tight swim trunks accentuate. Torso and arms full of extensive, elaborate tattoos. He squints at Hermann for a few seconds in what looks like mild confusion. “Aw, fuck. I lost my glasses.”

There’s a black, chunky-framed pair of eyeglasses sticking out of the sand next to the man. Hermann flicks them towards him with his cane, though, privately, he can’t begin to wonder how the man thought it was a good idea to take them in with him. “Are these yours?”

The man fumbles along the ground for a few moments and lets out a triumphant little shout when he touches the frames. He slides them on and blinks at Hermann; then his face splits into a wide grin. “Hey, there.”

“Hello,” Hermann says, warily. 

“I’m Newt,” the man says. He wipes a great deal of sand off of his face and smooths back his hair. “Uh. Did you see me surfing?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it surfing,” Hermann says, and Newt laughs.

“It’s my first day,” he says. “I know I suck. Still. Not bad, I don’t think, for a first day.”

“Mm,” Hermann says. He fidgets. “Well, if you’re fine, I really ought to be--”

Newt scrambles to his feet. At full height, he’s much shorter than Hermann realized. “What’s your name?” he says. “Since you saved me and all, I feel like it’s only fair if I know.”

His smile is even nicer up close. Hermann clears his throat. “Dr. Hermann Gottlieb,” he says, wondering if he should mention that he really did nothing, in fact, and certainly didn’t save Newt from anything. “I’m--ah--I’ve just gotten here.”

“Doctor,” Newt says. “Hey, me too. The doctor part, I mean, I live here. I study marine biology. Perfect place for it, right? It’s amazing to study all this shit in its--” He wiggles his hand. “Natural habitat. I watched sea turtles hatch last week. Dr. Newton Geiszler. Please just keep calling me Newt, though, I hate--the whole thing. Can I just call you Hermann? Unless you want the whole thing. I like the name Hermann.” 

“Mm,” Hermann says again.

Newt rubs the back of his neck, deflating a little. “So. Uh. What do you study?”

“Astrophysics,” Hermann says.

“Cool,” Newt says. “Here for vacation, then?”

“For around three months,” Hermann says. “It’s...nice,” he finishes, lamely. It’s not a lie. He supposes it has the potential to be nice around here eventually. He might even enjoy himself at one point. “It was nice to meet you, Newton.” He nods at Newt, hoping he takes the hint, and turns to leave.

Newt does not take the hint. “Newt,” Newt corrects, trailing after him, surf board in tow. “Hey, do you mind if I sit with you?”

Hermann gives a sigh, though he finds he does not truly abhor the idea of spending a little more time with the strange little man. “I suppose not,” he says.

“Sweet,” Newt says. He plops down next to Hermann’s beach chair and stretches his arms above his head, grunting a little with the effort. Hermann looks away quickly. “Where are you staying, by the way?”

“The small yellow cottage at the end of the road.”

“The really shitty one?” Newt says. Hermann bristles; Newt grins sheepishly. “Sorry. I mean the, uh, charming little one?”

“That’s the one,” Hermann says. He hums. “It is somewhat...different than I expected.” He can put up with the leaky roof and sagging floor for the price he got. Practically a steal.

“I bet,” Newt says. “Anyway, we’re neighbors. I have the one across from you.”

Hermann winces a little. Of course Newt does--of course he owns the equally tiny and equally dilapidated bright turquoise monstrosity across the street from Hermann, the one with sea creatures and tropical flora painted all up the sides, the overgrown shrubbery, the multiple surfboards stacked on the sparse grass. “That’s yours?” he says. He should’ve recognized Newt’s handiwork: the sea creatures inked across Newt’s arms and chest are startling similar to those on the cottage.

“Sure is,” Newt says, grin turning cheeky.

“It’s certainly...unique,” Hermann says.

Newt doesn’t say anything after that, so Hermann makes a show of picking up his book, shaking off the sand, and flipping to the page he marked off. He gets a paragraph before Newt starts to run his mouth again. “You know, there are some really cool tidepools further down the beach. Ten minute walk, maybe. If you wanted to look at them--”

Hermann snaps his book shut; Newt recoils. “Newton. I appreciate your--friendliness, but I really would like to finish this chapter, so if you wouldn’t mind--”

“Sorry!” Newt stammers, guiltily. “Sorry, sorry. Of course. I’ll shut up.”

He does. In fact, he even goes as far as to slink off back to the shoreline. Hermann, book forgotten, watches him poke around at the shells pushed there by high tide and occasionally pocket some. He also watches the way Newt’s swim trunks pull taut over his ass each time he bends over. It’s as if he’s doing it on purpose--as if he knows Hermann is sneaking glances, and wants to put on a show.

Hermann pretends to be deeply invested in his book when Newt returns. He also pretends that his ears and cheeks aren’t burning a bright pink. A wet hand prods Hermann’s arm. “Ah. Yes?” Hermann says, eyes flicking up.

Newt is presenting a small piece of fossilized coral, some seaglass, and a miniature conch shell barely larger than his fingernail out to him. He looks embarrassed. “Here.”

“Is this--?”

“It’s for you,” Newt says, and, wordlessly, Hermann takes all three from him. “Sorry I was being an annoying dick. I don’t have many people to talk to, and I got--excited.”

“Oh,” Hermann says. He rubs his thumb over the seaglass. It’s the same shade as the flecks of green in Newt’s eyes. Something warm bubbles in Hermann’s chest. “Er. Newton. Where were those tidepools?”

Newt is more than eager to lead him off down the beach, and twice as much so to talk his ear off and interrogate him about anything that comes to his mind. The seaglass and coral has put Hermann in a good mood and he answers it all readily. Newt plays the ukulele; Hermann can’t, but he was forced into piano lessons as a child, and has retained the skill into adulthood. Newt loves jellyfish and starfish and swimming; Hermann loves his telescope. Newt bicycles everywhere, because he never learned to drive; Hermann drives everywhere, because he could never bicycle. Newt is single. Hermann is single. 

Neither says anything for a few moments after this last revelation. Hermann is mildly surprised; as talkative and, er, bold as Newt is, he is fairly attractive, and someone other than Hermann must’ve taken an interest in those pretty eyes and round freckled cheeks by now. To say nothing of his obvious enthusiasm for his field of study, which Hermann finds fairly attractive as well.

(Hermann, to a slightly greater extent, is also pleased by this revelation.)

“Here we are!” Newt suddenly exclaims, and he squats down on a rock at the edge of one of the tidepools. It’s large, the size of a small swimming pool, but the water is clear and shallow and Hermann can see the bottom without a problem. He can see why Newt brought him here, too; there are about three starfish scattered across in it, as well as some strange, fuzzy-looking plants. Right up Newt’s alley of interests.

“Lovely,” Hermann says. Newt’s hair has dried since his disastrous attempts at surfing, and he can see now that it’s a nice shade of brown, lighter than Hermann’s own, and wavy and soft-looking. The breeze ruffles it gently. He realizes Newt’s talking to him. “Ah. What did you say?”

Newt flashes him another grin. “I said--” He leans in closer to the tidepool, index finger extended in the direction of one of the fuzzy plants (he wears several rope bracelets around his wrist), and immediately slips off the rock and into the water with a yelp.

Hermann startles. “Newton!”

Newt pops up with his knees bunched up to his chest, one hand pressing his glasses to his face. He’s laughing. “I’m good,” he says. He pushes his hair back. “I think I gave the starfish a fucking heart attack, but I’m good.”

Hermann inches his way across the slippery rocks, his own free hand outstretched. “Here, Newton, let me--”

The end of his cane hits air; he flings his arms out, uselessly, in an attempt to steady himself, and then topples forward right on top of Newt. 

Newt, to his credit, does try to catch him.

The water is not as cold as Hermann expected, though it shocks him anyway, and his trousers and shirt are soaked almost instantly; his sunhat is swept clean off his head; his cane clatters against the rocks; he lands with his face pressed to Newt’s shoulder, in Newt’s outstretched arms, Newt’s widened eyes mere inches away. More shocking than the water is how warm Newt is, though. Warm and solid. He smells like saltwater--to be expected--and sweat. “Shit, dude!” Newt exclaims, tugging at the white linen at Hermann’s back. “Are you okay?”

Hermann struggles to push himself up. Not because the rocky tidepool bottom beneath them is slippery, which it is, but because he’s laughing too damned hard. “I’m terribly sorry,” he wheezes, “I don’t know--”

Newt’s concern melts away; he, too, starts giggling a little. “No worries,” he says. “Uh. Let’s just--”

They manage to make it out of the tidepool eventually, after a great deal of splashing and slipping, and Hermann is reunited with his cane and sunhat. None of the starfish appear to have been harmed. The same can’t be said for Hermann’s white linen, unfortunately; he doubts he’ll ever wash the grey tinge of seawater out of them. He’s not too upset about it.

Hermann allows Newt to take his arm on the walk back, after their fingers brush together a few times and Newt casts several shy, obvious glances down at their hands. He’s finding himself strangely charmed by Newt. Even strangely fond. "I’ve been meaning to ask,” Newt says, still so shy. “Uh. Would you want to--I mean--there are plenty of good spots for dinner, and it’s getting late--”

Hermann squeezes Newt’s arm and gives him a small smile. “Yes,” he says.

[midoriyaizukustan-inactive]

*clears throat* *pulls up powerpoint* *shuffles speaker notes*

okay kids strap in this is gonna be long probably. im gonna add a read more so hopefully that works, otherwise i am,,so sorry,,

w that lets begin

so. lets start w the basics

season 1: didnt like him. really didnt like him. i have Issues w suicide as a topic in general so when he baited midoriya he lost any fondness i couldve had towards him. then his actions durnig the battle training? hes a fcukin maniac. but i enjoyed learning more abt him as a character so whatever. i thought his confrontation w midoriya in the aftermath of that was,,interesting

season 2: still dont like him, but his eventual coming arnd during the final exam made me more open to him. also sports festival was,,,interesting, ig. i thought it was interesting how he wouldnt accept the win; if he was the same character he was in season 1, he wouldve taken it, i feel like. but he didnt. so hey, growth smwh

season 3: i thought i didnt like him, but then he got kidnapped and i got a case of the shakes(tm) until he was rescued. i rlly vibed w midoriya screaming and crying while he was kidnapped. cut to the provis license exam:

(excuse my crying abt aoyama lmao)(and also the fact that i used to call bakugou “bakugon” yes i know thats not his name yes i did that bc i didnt like him and i think im funny as shit). then,,,the scene. kacchan v. deku 2. uhh i was vibing w him honestly. hes a mood,,,regrettably,,,until he beat midoriya at least

season 4 (so far): pls stop yelling, regrettably relatable gremlin

now lets dive into what all that means huh

i dislike bakugou for the following reasons.

- suicide-baited midoriya. not only that, but he tormented him for years simply because he couldn’t get over his own private feelings; midoriya did nothing to deserve his scorn. literally nothing.

- beyond even that, is still a prick to most everyone he meets; he’s short and irritated and won’t give anyone the benefit of the doubt (at least not as first). 

- even now, he still has issues giving respect or even just being decent to both people he knows and people he doesn’t.

- speaking of, he has never ever apologized for his previous actions. not even after he finds out he’s wrong (like when midoriya tells him he never, ever, looked down on him). he hasnt even really apologized via action rather than words if you wanna try that route with me. he might be better than he was, but he refuses to acknowledge that he was ever wrong in the first place and thats not functional

- hes so focused on “winning” as a concept. it doesnt matter if youre supposed to be an ally to him; if he perceives you as being in his way, he’ll do his damnedest to fucking destroy you. he has few genuinely heroic qualities (not to say he has few good qualities, just few heroic ones); hes just strong and determined, but he’s a case study of how those qualities can be twisted as all fucking hell

- hes so proud. he is s o fucking proud. he has such an issue with pride that i cant fucking handle it sometimes man

i like bakugou for the following reasons.

- he has grown. he might not have said anything to anyone about it, but he has grown as a person since the series started

- he does have morals and he sticks to them. they might be basic things such as “dont be a villain” but theyre. something and he stands by them. hes not a slimy snake is what im saying

- hes funny. when he isnt actively bringing others down, i actually enjoy the screentime he has, bc its really funny, esp when he’s interacting w his friends and theyre having visible fun messing arnd w him

- this particular reason is hard to phrase so let me just. try and word vomit it correctly. i didnt expect him to be capable of blaming himself for smth like all might’s retirement. but he was and i,,,it adds layers to his character that i appreciate a lot. so its not that i like that he feels guilty abt it, but what it means for his character

- his interactions with kirishima. its proof that he’s learning how to be better, slowly but surely, and how to care about others properly. its sweet, genuinely and wholeheartedly

- hes not always rewarded by the narrative, and that makes him much more human to me, which i really appreciate. the biggest example i can think of is that he didn’t pass his provisional license exam on the first try. i think he’s gonna have a low point eventually, but hopefully, from there, he tries to build his way out into a better life as a better person

yeah

its just...very complex. he reminds me of myself, or at least a person i used to be. he actually reminds me of a couple combinations of ppl i used to be; just like bakugou, ive had smth similar to both a superiority and an inferiority complex in the past so its djkfjkdjnk,,,regrettably relateable,,,,,,not at the same time like he does but yknow the feeligns and how they clash are still there

but yeah. its bc he reminds me of myself i both hate him and like him.

like he reminds me of aspects abt myself i h a t e. i have issues w pride, i used to be a huge jerk (not to the degree he was, thank god, but i have a conscious now so when im reminded of how i used to be in like elementary school, i feel ashamed and since bakugou hasnt fucking,,,acknowledged,,the abuse he put midoriya through yet,,i get angry with him)

and the one guilt episode we saw him have reminded me of a very dark time in my life (2016) and its just. oh no. so thats where the anger fizzles out because i cant hate that more than i just feel pity abt it

in contrast, its bc he reminds me of things i hate abt myself that i have high hopes for him. i crawled out of the hole i was in; i made it through the stages of being a prick and then being thrust into a guilt-induced depression. im certainly not a good person, but im much better than i was

so just,,im already proof that ppl can change, but,,,,if i had a character to cling to when doubt came creeping in, i think that wouldve be great. i know im not the only one that feels like this. if bakugou can make the right turnaround, i think he could mean a lot to a bunch of people, me included

obviously the turnaround would have to be done right (and he better fucking beg for midoriya’s forgiveness) but i have hope that it can be

he has a long way to go, both in action and in word. but i am hopeful for his development. he reminds me of many things i hate about myself, but also to push on despite those things. my feelings about him are complicated due to that

yea. heres my book report sir djknkjnsknfjkn

[redheadedbastards]

Daily Life Drabbles: The Cake

Wen yawned and shuffled half-awake into the living room. Just ahead he spotted Ronan. He was (as always) draped dramatically over Margo’s recliner in a way only thought possible for wet towels. A frustrated huff escaped him and his eyebrows drew together in concentration as he tried to make sense of the Country Living Magazine in his hands. He flipped forwards a few pages and seemed only more and more at a loss the further he read on.

“Morning,” Beckman greeted him and leaned down to place a kiss on his cheek. His soft sentiment was lost though. His half-conscious reflexes missed his mark by a mile and Ronan cringed as Wen’s lips met the Irishman’s ear. “Oh, sorry. Didn’t mean to-...” He rubbed a hand over his eyes before waving vaguely. “..Yeah.”

“S’fine, swee’hear’, jus’ a li’tle gross fer ya is all.” Ronan sat up an inch to look around before settling back into the cushions more haphazardly than he started. “Ay, ‘N? Before ya go an’ make cereal o’ wha’ever ya were gonna make, come si’ with me a min’ will ya?”

The couch creaked as Wen settled beside him. His hazel eyes looked expectantly into his brown one. “Are you sick? You don’t look too happy.”

“Nah, nothin’ like tha’. Jus’ irritated,” Mulcahey explained and showed him the page he had just been attempting to glare a hole through. It was a recipe for a simple layered chocolate cake. “I wanted ta make somethin’ nice fer Margo since she’s helped us fer so long an’ Emme’ said ‘er birthday’s comin’ up. Bu’ tha thing is tha’ this book ‘e gave me doesn’ make any sense. They go’ tha ingredien’s righ’ ‘ere bu’ look a’ ‘em! I’s like their speaking French o’ something!”

The other man leaned forwards and scanned through the recipe. “What’s a teaspoon?”

“I’s a spoon. Obviously. Bu’-”, he points at another ingredient. “Then there’s tablespoons too. Which is also jus’ a spoon! Why are there two? Wha’s tha difference anyways? I though’ i’ was jus’ a mistake bu’ tha whole book is filled with tha’ shi’!”

“I have an idea,” Wen stood up suddenly and grabbed him by the hand. “I’ll show you.”

“Alrigh’y then.”

Ten minutes and three spoons now soaking in two tea cups to prep later, the two men began to try their hand at baking. It took a little while to find a large bowl and all the ingredients but whatever they couldn’t find they eventually found alternatives for. Things were starting to really come together in their opinion. At least that's what they believed by just glancing at the thing.

Ronan was busy cutting almonds as Wen dumped a cup of water into the bowl and then a few eggs. “Don’ forge’ tha flour. Tha’s an importan’ bi’.” He reminded his boyfriend.

“Oh right!” The taller man frowned at the empty cupboard in front of him. “I used all of our cups on the other ingredients. Should I use a mug instead?”

“Hm..” He squinted at him before bobbing his head in approval. “Yeah tha’ shoul’ be fine. Doesn’ ‘ave ta be perfect.”

The Irishman slid the bag of flour across the counter before pouring the almonds into the mix. Wen had just lifted the bag up in front of him when it began to slip from his hands. On instinct his other hand shot out and grabbed it before it fell, sending a large plume of flour into the face and chest of the man leaned in front of him. The flour-coated man coughed and rubbed his hand over his face.

“‘N.. Wha’ jus’-?” An accusatory brown eye glared up at him from a white-coated wasteland where his face had been. Wen, initially having felt terrible for accidentally dousing him in the powder, now struggled to withhold his laughter. He tried not to look at him as a few deep giggles escaped his lips. Ronan felt his face grow hot with a mix of annoyance and embarrassment before he saw the state of his clothes. “M-Mah shir’! ‘N, ya go’ i’ all over my new-! AN’ MY JACKE’?! Wen-!” He whined and uselessly tried to shake the cloth clean.

“I- I’m s-” Watching him wag his shirt about was too much for the other man and Beckman curled over as laughter overtook him. Tears streamed down his face as he guffawed. Anytime he looked up at Ronan he immediately was hit with a new wave of joy. “Sorry- I’m-!” He struggled to speak. “I-!”

“Ya think this is jus’ so funny, huh?” Beckman nodded and wiped at his face. “Well how funny is i’ for ya when I do this-!” Ronan grabbed him by the collar and pulled his laughing face down to him. He pressed his lips against his roughly, catching Wen pleasantly off guard. Just when he had begun to sink into the kiss the flour-covered man rubbed his face all over his own.

“Ah- Stop-!” He laughed trying to get away. He didn’t get far before Mulcahey wrapped his arms around him and went to work trying to cover every inch of the 7 foot tall man with flour. “Ronan, ah-! You got it in my sweater!”

“Tha’s wha’ ya ge’ fer ruinin’ my hair AN’ clothes.” He growled playfully then yelped as they both went careening backwards and landed on the floor. “AH! WEN-! THA FLOUR!!” He flailed uselessly underneath the larger man’s body. Only managing to get more of the flour on him in the process. Ronan let out a dramatic and forlorn groan and flopped his hands back down. Choosing to accept his fate rather than fight it any longer.

Wen grinned at him, his freckled face half coated as well. “Does that mean I win?” Ronan’s eye shot back open and he glared at him.

“Never!” He declared, grabbing him by the back of his leg and flipping him off. Mulcahey shimmied to his feet and stood proudly over his startled form. “Accept i’, love! In tha end I always-”

The front door creaked open and a small older woman walked through. The Irishman turned around and Margo looked between the two of them, the mess on the counter and her full sink. “..Boys.” She said in an eerily smooth tone. She took a deep breathe in and pushed her glasses up her nose. “I’m gonna go visit Kat for a bit.” She went back out the way she came and slowly meandered back to her truck.

“Shi’.” Ronan shared a worried look with Wen before helping him up. “Alrigh’ new plan. We clean this up then we finish tha cake.”

“Sounds good.” They shook on it and got started. Wen went to work trying to sweep the flour off the counter and floor with his hands. Mulcahey, on the other hand, began to strip off his clothes and put them into a bag so as not to track it in the house. Both now driven by their combined efforts to not get killed when the woman returned to the cabin.

-2 hours later-

Margo’s hand hesitated before grabbing the doorknob before her. She hoped her heart could handle whatever she found on the other side. She opened the door and to her surprise the kitchen looked nearly as it had when she first left that morning. Cautiously, she continued forwards.

“Shorty, Rooster, where did you all get off to?” She heard quick, very-much-audible whispering in the other room. After another few seconds Ronan stumbled out from the hallway as if pushed by an over-eager hand and grins apprehensively at her. “Care to explain what’s going on?”

“Well, ya see-,” his eye glanced at the living room and he cleared his throat. “We- Me and ‘N, ya know ‘im. Well, we made somethin’ an’- Oh-! Tha mess don’ worry we go’ tha’ all up! I’s jus’ woosh gone, y’know how tha’ goes. Jus’-!.. Yep.”

“Rooster, are you gonna spit it out or-?” All of her old worries were now gone and now she merely enjoyed watching the ordeal play out.

Ronan, looking rather constipated, shouted for the other to join them. It took him a second, but eventually the sheepish man came into the main room as well. In his hands he carefully supported a-.. Well, she wasn’t exactly sure what it was, on one of her nicer plates. Just going from the looks of the thing she assumed that if either church in town caught sight of it it’d likely be declared an abomination and quickly exorcised.

“We made a cake,” Wen said proudly. “For your birthday!”

“Was my idea bu’ ‘N helped me transla’e i’ and pu’ i’ together. Do ya know how hard i’ is ta make one o’ these?! Took ages. Bu’ i’s perfect.”

“Better than the picture,” the other chimed in. Mulcahey nodded in agreement and she chuckled. “We should have some.”

Margo had at first found the whole situation rather endearing. That is, she felt that way until that exact point. She smiled widely but as her eyes fell on the mess on the plate she only felt dread filling her gut. “Of course! L-Let’s go get us each a slice.” She had lived long enough, she decided and took the plate from him.

She set the thing on their dining room table and did her best to cut it as it oozed beneath her blade. Margo put a strangely rigid yet gelatinous piece on each of their plates and sat down. Her two loveably stupid sons smiled excitedly at her as she scooped some onto a fork. She smiled back, prayed to whoever or whatever was out there and took a bite. “Is-..” She struggled to swallow it. “Is that sour cream?”

Ronan gave her a smug look. “Yep, we forgo’ ta add i’ in before with tha other ingredients bu’ then I remembered we still needed ta make tha fillin’. So we jus’ threw I’ in there! Clever righ’?”

“Oh? Yes, very.. Um, creative.” She chewed through another glob and gave him a supportive smile. Turning her attention to the other man beside her, she found that Wen was shoveling down the mess without hesitation. Margo’s stomach twisted at the sight but she couldn’t help but respect him for it. “Well, this was real nice, boys. I love it alot. It was-.. Was very sweet of you both to do this all just for me.”

She reached over and dusted some flour out of the fan of Ronan’s mohawk. Making a mental note to teach them how to bake before her next birthday. He grumbled and waved her off and Wen continued to eat the “cake” like a man half-starved, smiling all the while. Margo, despite her and very likely Wen’s inevitable food poisoning, found that this was the best birthday she had in a long time and looked forward to the next one they would share.