#i unno i felt like i should

[inkyprince]

i did it

i made a md rp blog

mainly 1 for all ocs b/c i can. It's @inkysdrones still a bit in the works but meh?

[candycryptids]

Well, now I have to pop in and ask YOU a question. Which is hard because looking over all your characters pages, I'm sobbing on the fucking floor... I love them all so much????

But! I'd really like to know what sparked Chuusday's interest in technology and how did she get so good with it?! ♡

N..nobodies ever asked that before 🫣💦 So I’ll hammer some of the details out for you RIGHT MEOW! A 2sday-Wednesday special :3

Actually we’re gonna cover a lot of ground I haven’t talked about openly before so settle in

Chuu’s fascination with Machines n the like started REAL early, early when she was small. She wanted to…. Disassemble things. Crates, shelves, alchemist tools of the trade, Mammets… carts… she wanted to lay it all out. See how it fit together. And then MAYBE put it all back together again. And she lived on an island, in a port town, with her mom (an actual Viera) who was continuously unwell and kept getting worse every time she got better and sick again, and the sunseeker chirurgeon who was trying to treat her condition, and his partner, another sunseeker who if I recall correctly, was an alchemist. So. The house she was staying in had no shortage of things a Viera with curious + grabbing destructive hands shouldn’t be grabbing.

It takes coaxing to get her to start putting stuff back together again all the time, and by that point at least she’d stopped trying to pry nails out of things (wooden objects were a pain, she found, to take apart, and piece back together, the wood sometimes was old and slightly rotted, the nails came out unkindly, the shapes were often simple.)… things with screws and bolts were… fun. Her dads (in her mind, they were her dads, but out loud, it was sir, and mister) kept trying to send her out on Missions (chores; your mom isn’t doing well, we don’t want you to have to keep hanging around the house while her every breath rattles and her every cough is harsh and wet. Chuu knew. She was 14. It wasn’t hard to figure out…) for, small stuff. Fetch quests; go pick up ingredients for dinner, or hunt down this one small herb on the cliff side above town for this tincture I’m trying to make to help alleviate the cough symptoms. I have enough for now but having more to replenish what I’m using isn’t bad.. low stakes, yknow.

And when her Mom finally passed from her illness the pair kept Chuu on (Chuu herself will not comment on the her mom and the dads’ relationship, but I CAN and I’ll tell you those fuckers were poly. They might never have slapped a label on it but the love was there. It didn’t start that way, but it certainly was that way by the end.)

This ended up wildly off track didnt it. (Let me get it back on track, and in so doing gracefully gloss over the chunk of history I’m unclear on 💖)

She gets REALLY good at what she’s doing when she signs on with the Garlean Empire. It wasn’t… a hard choice. There was nothing left tying her down where she had been by that point; they’d offered direction, room, board… and, well… her current skills were enough to get placed under Midas’ guidance.

And she found that. Magitek is incredibly interesting compared to whatever she’s had her hands on before and she loves it. Purpose. Drive. She learns how to build things that she’d never dreamed of before under Midas’ guidance. She helps refine designs for two legged heavy artillery a lone person can pilot. To deal with the enemy. She does not think about who the enemy is. The enemy is a problem, and the Machine, glorious, flawless, violent, is the answer.

And then they blow up Bozja. Midas with it. An entire city, wiped off the map. She finds that the numbers- subjects- on the sheet that they’d been running experiments on have faces. Haunted, tired faces, with dull eyes and drawn cheeks and small hands. Children. You can’t just quit, but Midas was gone. Cid was missing. Nero was a thorn in her side and she didn’t want to continue work under someone less competent, or pursue someone else’s dreams. So …. She went missing too. Crashed an airship into Thavnair and stripped the wreckage to the bones for coin. Went into temporary hiding in Kugane, then Ul’Dah, and finally fell in with the slightly sketchy free company she’s with now. She maintains their airships and submersibles and they don’t ask where she came from 💖

I think I got a lil lost in the reeds and I was supposed to go to sleep like 4 hours ago but I kept turning this question over in my mind like a rubrix cube despite my best efforts >v>; The Long And Short Is; she’s always wanted to know how stuff worked, and falling in with Garlemald for (cautiously estimating her time there at about 30+ years) helped her understanding grow in great leaps. Around the start of 2.0 she awakens the Echo (Thrice damned Migraine Creator) and doesn’t realize it’s use until her next encounter with Allagan tech (where she interfaces on a personal level and. It kicks her new obsession up. And… allagans did quite a bit of soul research… it is, somewhat, why there is a Tuesday.)

… 🫣 thank you for the question !!!!!!! I’m. Hopin this makes even a lick of sense, ahaha… some of the stuff I had partially cemented in my mind… I had to fix, after reading the actual lore and wiki -w•;; but not much.

[the-mighty-nappa]

the hell weather cares not for any type of clothing, be it light and breathable or dark and comfy. the sun will cook you alive. so so rapidly. but like this is a really cute dress so the suffering is worth it.

[justlin22]

Doctor's Appointment

Dr. Zayne x Reader (Post Breakup)

_________________________

He broke up with you, and it cut deep. The Chief Surgeon of AKSO shattered your heart—the very heart he once swore to protect with every fibre of his being. How dare he pull the trigger and claim defeat in his own battlefield? He had no right to raise the white flag after only two years. But today, you had to face the man who was once the alpha in your eyes but had now fallen from grace. Today was your annual check-up with your primary physician, Dr. Zayne himself.

It was almost laughable that the one who saved your heart had also broken it, and now he was the one trying to piece it back together. You entered his office with your medical report in hand, wearing your usual hunter uniform and your pride—what little remained. Your eyes met his, a silent acknowledgment passing between you. You managed a faint smile before sitting in the hot seat by his desk. A swirl of emotions—sadness, anger, a sliver of something else—tightened in your chest. You didn’t know which would surface before his ever-cold demeanour.

As you passed his desk, he held his usual stoic expression. You nearly gagged at the sight of that mask, knowing all too well what lay beneath. He was surely thrilled to see you again, despite his façade. Meeting your gaze again must have cost him less pride than breaking it. "Asshole," you muttered in your head.

"Sit," he ordered, gesturing to the chair beside his desk.

The command struck a nerve. Your heart burned. Even now, he wielded authority over you like you were a child. You bit your tongue, determined not to lose your composure, and sat.

He picked up your medical report, flipping through the notes slowly, as if savouring each moment. It felt like an eternity beside him. You caught him stealing glances at you. By now, you were sure he had some inappropriate thoughts running through that handsome head of his. His legs shifted restlessly—left, right, up, down. You rolled your eyes.

He placed the stethoscope around his neck and rolled his chair closer, closing the distance to check your heart. “I need to listen,” he said, his tone steady. You unbutton your shirt, revealing the singlet underneath, your skin exposed for his assessment. The cold steel of the stethoscope grazed your skin, and your breath hitched. His grip on the stethoscope tightened slightly, betraying the struggle beneath his composed exterior. His head hovered near your chest, and he didn’t dare to look up. You glanced down at him and felt a wave of disgust at the sight you once loved. You could almost hear his heartbeat, quickening in his chest. Your presence alone was enough to make this man weak, lost in his own recollection of claiming your body. He lingered longer than necessary, listening to your heartbeat as if savouring a forbidden memory.

“Take a deep breath for me,” he ordered, his voice controlled, masking the turmoil within. His composure grated on your nerves. How dare he hide so well behind that calm exterior? You wanted nothing more than to tear down that facade, to force him to reveal his real emotions, raw and unguarded. 

A swirl of thoughts danced in your mind: Should you tease him, test his restraint? Remain passive, letting him lead this unsettling encounter? Or push back, confront him with aggression? You decided to bide your time, choosing submission—for now. Let him think he's in control. You would watch his every move, every flicker of emotion that slipped through his carefully maintained mask, ready to act when the moment was right.

You took a deep breath, your chest rising and falling under his gaze. His eyes remained fixed, but you caught the slight bob of his Adam's apple, betraying a crack in his stoic demeanour. Slowly, he moved the stethoscope across your chest, and the brush of his fingertips grazed your skin in between. His breath, warm and uneven, fanned across your exposed skin. It was a subtle but deliberate move, one that did not go unnoticed. A sly tactic indeed.

“Take another deep breath for me,” he commanded, his voice low and steady. His head hovered even closer to your chest, so near it felt as though he wanted to press his ear directly against your skin. You obliged, drawing in a deep breath, feeling the rise and fall of your chest. As you inhaled, his hand slid to your back, as if to steady your posture, a gesture that felt far too intimate.

You rolled your eyes, a wave of disgust washing over you at the sensation of his touch and the warmth of his hand. The very closeness that once made your heart race now left you cold, reminding you of the betrayal hidden beneath his stoic exterior.

Satisfied with what he heard, he leaned back and removed the stethoscope from his ears, placing it on the table with deliberate slowness. He picked up your medical report and began jotting down notes, his eyes flicking up to steal glances at you—as if he were checking for any reaction, searching for a crack in your composure. Each lingering look felt like a probing question, a silent dare, and it sent a cold shiver coursing down your spine, spreading to your feet. The room suddenly felt smaller, the air thick with unspoken words and the tension that hung between you both.

“Your arm, please,” he commanded, his voice steady yet with an underlying tension. You rolled up the sleeve of your shirt and extended your arm toward his desk. Before you could place it down, his hand captured your arm, holding it with a firm, possessive grip. His other hand moved slowly, fingertips brushing along the veins, lingering as if savouring the feel of your skin. His touch wasn’t hurried or clinical; it was deliberate, exploring more than necessary, sending a ripple of unease up your spine. It was as if he were trying to sense more than just your heartbeat—searching for a reaction, a sign of what you might be feeling beneath the surface.

You shot him a cold, unyielding stare—the classic resting bitch face—making it clear you were unamused by his touch. It was as if you had erased all memory of his warmth, every tender moment now buried under layers of indifference. You refused to give him what he seemed to crave—a reaction, a sign that his touch still had any effect on you. Instead, you held your ground, your expression hardened, denying him the satisfaction of knowing he could still stir something within you.

After the checkup, he jotted down notes on your medical report, but you could feel his eyes on you—stealing glances, more frequent and lingering than before. It was clear he was unsatisfied, frustrated even, by your lack of response to his lingering, intimate touches. His demeanour remained controlled, but there was a hint of irritation in his movements as he began to ask you a series of questions, more than he would normally ask.

“Did you get enough rest?” he asked, his tone almost demanding. You nodded, keeping your expression neutral, not even granting him the satisfaction of hearing your voice.

“Are you eating properly, following the recommended diet?” Another nod, your silence growing louder with each question.

“Are you getting regular exercise?” Yet another nod.

“Have you experienced any uneasiness with your heart?” he pressed, watching you closely. You shook your head, giving nothing away.

Each answer was brief, a nod or a shake of your head—never a word. You refused to give him what he seemed to want: a reaction, a sound, anything that might break the cold, impassable wall you'd put up. His questions seemed to dig for something deeper, but you kept your responses simple and detached, denying him even the chance to hear your voice.

He set his pen down, visibly unsatisfied with your responses, even though you had answered everything. His frustration was palpable, his eyes narrowing slightly as if recalculating his approach. Without a word, he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a small flashlight, turning back to you with a determined look.

“I need to check your eyes,” he said, his voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of something more—a persistence that felt almost too personal.

He rolled his chair forward swiftly, closing the distance between you in an instant. His hand cupped your left cheek, his thumb gently brushing the skin beneath your eye with an unexpected tenderness. His touch lingered, and your eyes met his. His face was so close, you could feel the warmth of his breath against your lips. In his green eyes, you caught a swirl of conflicting emotions—sadness, longing, desire, and regret—a vulnerable mix you rarely saw from him.

For a moment, it felt like words failed him; his gaze bore into yours, searching desperately for any flicker of emotion, any sign that you felt something too. His hold was firm yet uncertain, as if he were balancing on the edge of a precipice, waiting for you to either push him over or pull him back. His need for a reaction was almost tangible, the air thick with tension as he tried to read what was hidden behind your guarded eyes.

Your lips hovered near his, close enough to feel the heat between you. Then, in a heartbeat, he closed the distance, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. It was intense and raw, a kiss that poured out everything he couldn't say—his longing, his regret, his unspoken desire.

[peanutbutterlover02]

night changes

Masterlist | part 2 | part 4

summary: Weeks went by, and you and Anton received an invitation to a party at Wonbin's house. Excitement filled the air as you both prepared for the night. However, events at the party took an unexpected turn, leaving you back at your shared apartment with a visibly upset Anton. What transpired at the party? Why was Anton angry? As the two of you stood in the living room, the tension was palpable, and you could feel the weight of the unspoken words between you.

contains: smut, kissing, grinding, drinking, drunk sex.

🎧night changes - One Direction🎧

Weeks had passed since you first met Anton, and in that time, the two of you had grown incredibly close. Despite the busy college schedules, you both made sure to carve out time for one another, sharing meals, having late-night talks, and even working on some projects together.

The apartment had become more than just a shared space, it felt peaceful and homey, a comforting place where the two of you could relax, laugh, and be yourselves. The quiet moments between you had become just as meaningful as the playful ones, and a sense of ease had settled into your daily routine. Life felt balanced, and with Anton by your side, it felt like you had found a little piece of home in the midst of the city's chaos.

Knock knock!

“Anton? Can you get the door?” you called out, your hands busy rinsing off the plates you and Anton had used earlier, carefully stacking them in the drying rack.

“Sure!” he responded, jogging lightly toward the door. You could hear the soft thud of his footsteps as he moved, heading towards the front door of your shared apartment.

“Hey, Tony!” Sohee greeted, striding into the apartment with his usual energetic vibe.

Anton raised an eyebrow, taking in Sohee’s outfit. “Um... are you going somewhere?” he asked, noticing the gray graphic t-shirt layered under a leather jacket, paired with black cargo pants and a cap. It was a classic Sohee look—effortlessly cool yet casual.

“There’s gonna be a party at Wonbin’s and you two are coming with me,” Sohee declared confidently, leaning against the wall with a playful grin as he pointed at both of you.

You and Anton exchanged dumbfounded looks.

“What? I didn’t agree to this...” Anton said, shaking his head. “We’re not going anywhere,” he added firmly, crossing his arms in defiance.

“Why, Tonyy? We should go! The three of us!” you said, your voice bubbling with excitement at the idea.

“See, Tony? Live a little. Come onn, it’ll be fun,” Sohee chimed in, adding to the pressure with a mischievous grin. Anton sighed but didn’t protest further, clearly outnumbered.

“I’ll go get ready!” you said, practically bouncing with energy as you ran toward your room, eager to pick out the perfect outfit for the night.

“Hey, man, this might be your chance. Please come with us?” Sohee nudged Anton’s shoulder playfully, giving him a knowing look. Anton groaned, clearly reluctant but feeling the pressure. After a moment of hesitation, he finally gave in. “Fine, I’ll go,” he muttered, shaking his head with a small smile as Sohee grinned.

After about 30 minutes, you stepped out of your room in a red satin strappy mini dress and black heels, your hair styled just the way you liked it. The fabric clung perfectly to your figure, and the rich red color made you feel confident and bold.

“Omg, you look amazing!!” Sohee exclaimed, immediately hyping you up, his eyes wide with approval. He clapped his hands together, clearly impressed.

Anton stepped out of his room wearing a black tee under a denim jacket, paired with jeans. As soon as he laid eyes on you, his gaze lingered, unable to look away from how stunning you looked in your red satin dress. His expression softened, clearly taken aback by your appearance.

“Oh? You’re ready too, let’s go!” Sohee said, finally noticing Anton’s presence and breaking the moment with his usual excitement. Anton quickly composed himself, but the way his eyes had lingered didn’t go unnoticed by you.

The three head out of the apartment and into Anton’s black car.

The three of you arrived at Wonbin’s place, the heavy beat of the music growing louder as you approached the front door. Once inside, the room was bathed in neon LED lights, casting a vibrant glow over the scene. People were everywhere—chatting in groups, dancing under the lights, or gathered around tables with drinks in hand. The party was in full swing, alive with laughter and energy. As the smell of alcohol hit your senses, you instinctively made your way to the kitchen area, weaving through the crowd to grab a drink and kick off the night.

Soon after, Sohee’s friends, the ones who had invited him to the party, went to greet the three of you. 

“Wonbin, this is my friend, y/n, and Anton, who you’ve met before,” Sohee said, gesturing toward the two of you. Wonbin smiled as he extended his hand in greeting, eyeing you up and down with a slight smirk.

“She’s a dance major, by the way,” Sohee added, with a proud grin in your direction, making sure to highlight your passion as part of the introduction.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Wonbin. Thanks for coming to my party,” Wonbin said with a friendly smile, handing you a glass of alcohol.

“Enjoy the party, all three of you, yeah? I’ve got more people to greet, but see you guys around,” he added, giving a casual wave before disappearing into the crowd.

Anton stared at the cup in your hand, looking slightly distracted. “Are you gonna drink that?” he asked, turning to you.

“Huh?” you replied, caught off guard by the sudden question.

“That,” Anton repeated, pointing at the drink in your hand.

Realizing what he meant, you made an ‘o’ shape with your mouth and shook your head. “No, you can have it if you want. I’ll get my own,” you said with a small smile, handing him the glass.

“Thanks,” Anton said, taking the drink, his fingers brushing lightly against yours for a moment.

“Why?” you asked, curiosity piqued as you glanced at Anton, wanting to know why he wanted the drink that Wonbin had handed you.

“Because…” Anton hesitated, putting the glass back down on the table and locking eyes with you. His gaze was intense, and you could feel the weight of his words before he even spoke. “I just… don’t trust him giving you drinks,” he admitted.

“Oh… but you drank it?” you asked, a little confused.

“Yeah… I just don’t like the idea of him giving you drinks, okay?” Anton said, sounding a bit flustered, his tone protective yet awkward.

Your ears flushed, the sudden warmth spreading across your face. “Okay then… I’ll, um.. get my own now, also I’m going to go dance,” you said quickly, needing a distraction as you turned and walked off toward the dance floor, leaving Anton standing there before he could say anything more.

Anton scanned the room from the table, his eyes darting through the sea of people but unable to spot you. A sense of worry began to build in his chest, his mind racing with concern. Just as he was about to push through the crowd to search for you, he let out a sigh of relief.

There you were, by the dance floor, moving effortlessly to the rhythm of the music. The colorful lights flickered across your figure as you danced, completely immersed in the beat. Anton relaxed, leaning back slightly, watching you with a soft smile as the tension faded away.

Anton’s initial relief quickly turned into a frown as he saw you dancing closely with another guy. Your back was pressed against the man’s chest, swaying together in sync to the music. You looked a little unsteady, your movements slightly off, likely from the alcohol.

A surge of anger and protectiveness welled up inside him, and for a moment, he instinctively wanted to march over and pull you away from the guy. But then, he stopped himself. What right did he have? You weren’t his to protect, and it wasn’t like you two were dating. The thought stung, making him feel helpless as he stood there, watching you and the other man dance together. He clenched his fists, forcing himself to stay rooted in place, but the sight gnawed at him.

The sight of you laughing and dancing with the man, his arms wrapped around your waist while his face lingered too close to your neck, sent a wave of fury through Anton. His jaw tightened, and he gripped the glass you had handed him so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His usually composed demeanor was slipping, and the anger building inside him was evident.

As the song ended, you wobbled back to Anton, giggling softly. He quickly reached out, gripping your arm to keep you steady. His jaw was still tense from earlier, but his grip was gentle.

“How drunk are you?” Anton asked, his voice a little sharper than intended.

You looked up at him with a playful smile. “Oh… I only had a couple of drinks,” you replied, your words slightly slurred but truthful. You were tipsy, not completely out of control, but just enough for the world to feel a bit lighter. Anton, still visibly frustrated, exhaled slowly, trying to suppress the emotions he was wrestling with.

Anton’s expression grew serious as he asked, "Who were you dancing with?"

You giggled, swaying slightly as you tried to remember. “Oh… his name was Sungchan? I think?,” you said with a light laugh. “Why?”

His gaze darkened, more intense than usual. “Don’t dance with him. If you want to dance, do it with me instead,” Anton said, his voice steady but the weight of his words heavy.

Your heart skipped a beat, and your stomach twisted at his unexpected intensity. Flustered, you tried to play it cool. “Are you jealous?” you asked with a teasing smile, though your voice betrayed how nervous his words had made you feel.

Instead of answering, Anton slipped his arm around you, pulling you closer. The warmth of his touch sent a rush of heat through you, making your cheeks flush a deep red. You instinctively tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip around your waist, his expression resolute. “Stay,” he said, his gaze fixed over your shoulder, watching a figure staring at you in the crowd behind you.

“Wh- why? Anton?” you asked, confusion lacing your voice. Before you could get an answer, Anton took your arm and guided you outside of the party. “Anton? Where are we going?” you questioned, tugging lightly at his firm grip.

He didn’t respond, instead opening the passenger door of his car and gently urging you inside. As he walked around to the driver's side and started the engine, you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. “But Sohee’s still inside?” you protested.

“He’s with his friends. Don’t worry,” Anton finally replied, his tone firm as he started the car and headed home. The air was thick with tension, and you couldn’t help but wonder what had prompted this sudden departure.

Back at your shared apartment, you stumbled inside, kicking off your shoes with a sigh. “Boy, that was a night,” you said, heading toward the living room.

But before you could sink into the comfort of your couch, you felt Anton grip your wrist, pulling you to a stop. You turned to face him, surprised to find his hands resting firmly around your waist as he pulled you closer, his face just inches from yours. He gazed down into your eyes, an intensity in his expression that made your heart race.

You locked eyes with him, your hands clutching the fabric of his jacket as you both stood there, enveloped in silence. Time seemed to stretch, and the air felt thick with tension. After a moment, you took a deep breath, thoughts racing in your mind ‘Fuck it.’ With that, you closed your eyes and rose onto your tiptoes, pressing your lips against Anton’s.

As your lips met, Anton responded immediately, closing his eyes and moving one hand to cup your cheek. The kiss was both passionate and tender, and you eventually pulled away to catch your breath. Anton's thumb gently brushed your cheek, and then he leaned in again, capturing your lips with his. You felt him smile against you, making it ten times hotter.

In one smooth motion, Anton wrapped his arms around your legs, lifting you effortlessly so you were straddling him. He walked toward his bedroom, still locked in the kiss, and pushed the door open. Gently, he laid you down on the bed and crawled over you, the atmosphere thick with anticipation and desire.

The two continue making out with each other heatedly. Anton parted from you as he stared down into your eyes, lust filled in both of your eyes. 

“Tony, please…” you murmured, your voice breathless as your fingers gripped his jacket, signaling for him to remove it. Catching the hint, Anton quickly shrugged off his jacket, his movements deliberate as he tossed it aside, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Please... take this off too," you whispered, tugging at his shirt. Anton obliged, slowly lifting it over his head, revealing his toned muscles flexing as he pulled it off. "Fuck..." you muttered, your fingers lightly tracing his abs. "You're so hot," you added.

Anton’s lips grazed your neck as his hand moved slowly up your thigh, teasingly brushing against your skin. His breath was warm against your ear as he whispered, "Is this okay?" His voice was laced with a deep intensity that made your heart race.

You swallowed hard, barely able to find your voice as you nodded slightly, then whispered a soft, "Yes." The word came out almost breathless, and you could feel your pulse quicken as he continued, his touch sending waves of heat through you.

Slowly, Anton lifted your dress over your head, leaving you in just your red bra and underwear as your eyes locked with his, filled with desire. “You’re gorgeous,” he whispered, his gaze never leaving yours. “Can I?” he asked, seeking your permission. You nodded eagerly, giving him the green light to continue, and he proceeded gently, his eyes filled with both passion and care.

Anton’s fingers went behind you to unclasp your bra, suddenly you were only left with your panties on. Anton stared at your boobs as he took your right nipple into his mouth, sucking it gently. You arched your back as moans fell out of your mouth, Anton's right hand now slowly sliding to your panties.

“Ngh… Please..”, you moaned out. Anton was still focused on your nipples, not hearing your pleading. You couldn't wait, the aching feeling between your legs was becoming too much, so you took matters into your own hands as you grabbed his shoulders and flipped yourselves around. Now, with you sitting on top of Antons crotch and Anton sitting on the bed as he grabs your waist tightly.

You started grinding yourself against him, “fuuckkk..”, you moaned out. Anton was trying to regain composure but he could hide the fact that he was also whimpering from you grinding on his erected crotch. Anton’s head was against your chest, littering you in kisses as your hands around his head pulled him closer into you.

Heavy breathing and the smell of sweat filled the room as you both felt your climax nearing. Anton finally lifted up his head, staring at you as he pulled you in for a deep kiss. Blocking the airway for the both of you, making it ten times harder to breath yet hotter for you. Moaning against the kiss, you felt yourself getting closer and closer.

“I’m close”, you told him, breaking the kiss. “Me too..”, Anton replied, drawing you closer so that your foreheads touched. Both moaning as you reached your climax, you held Anton’s cheek, making you face each other. Both flushed, sweaty and filled with lust. You pressed your lips against his, sharing a tender kiss. “More?”, you asked with a soft voice.

Anton gazed intensely into your eyes, and you had to gently tap his shoulders a few times to snap him back to reality. Suddenly, his awkward demeanor returned. “Uh, we should probably stop here, you need to sleep,” he said.

You glanced at the clock on the wall—it read 12:00. “Y-yeah…” you responded, realizing how late it had gotten and that you both needed to be up early for class. Shifting off Anton’s lap, he went to his closet and pulled out a loose dinosaur t-shirt and a pair of shorts. “Here, change into this,” he said.

As you grabbed his clothes and started to walk back to your room, he gently held your arm. “Stay here? Please?” Anton asked softly. You decided to change in his room and climbed into bed next to him. He immediately pulled you close, cuddling you tightly. Anton turned off the bedside lamp and kissed your forehead, whispering, “Good night.” He hugged you even tighter.

“Good night,” you mumbled against his chest, smiling at all that had happened.

a/n: heyy, i’m terribly sorry for the late update :( I was busy these past few dayss but i hope yall enjoy this onee, btw another chapter is on its way <3

[phyrestartr]

Simple Things [3] - Miguel O'hara x Male!Reader

# Mild NSFW, fluff, comfort, flirting, light angst, male!reader, dad!reader, spider!reader, implied depression, mentions of trauma, mentions of past relationships, mentions of manipulation, old men just doing their best, miguel is a sweetheart and a nerd, multi-part drabble collection

[ 1 ] Smoke Break | [ 2 ] We Change Like the Seasons | [ 3 ] Meet the Kids

Notes: Covid is still kicking my ass but I wanted to finish this part off so I can make the reader and Miguel fuck in the next part wahoo \o/

-- Meet The Kids --

A girl walked into the lab. Miguel thought maybe Gwen or another spider had come to ask something of him or to steal one of the cookies from his desk console (wouldn't be the first time), but the lazy scuff of shoes on polished floors sounded too clumsy to be one of his agents. She wasn't wearing a suit either, Miguel realized after sparing a glance over his shoulder; she did, however, sport a day pass on a small wrist. 

"And you are?" Miguel asked before turning back to his screens. He wasn't really in the mood for conversation while he tracked the next anomaly, but he couldn't say he wanted some random kid to be touching his stuff in his lab. 

"I dunno. Who're you?" Ugh. 

The clattering of something hitting the floor made Miguel's eye twitch. He took a breath. "I'm the guy running the show here." He closed screens with gruesome scenes of destruction, hiding them from the prying eyes of the innocent in the room with him. "And I'm the one who's about to call your guardian." 

She scoffed. "My guardian?" 

"Whichever spider dragged you into HQ and let you off your leash with a day pass." Miguel spied her out of the corner of his eye, but didn't have the decency to face her. "Lyla. Scan her." 

"You got it, buddy." 

"Woah, wait–!" The girl gasped as a warm orange light washed over her, flickering across her entirety before vanishing. "Dude." Despite the attitude, her voice trembled faintly. Miguel almost felt bad. But she touched his stuff. Not his fault. 

Lyla whistled and adjusted her sunnies as she leaned into a tiny screen of her own. "Oooh, you're gonna love this, Miguel–" 

"Miguel?" The girl repeated. "Like…the guy Dad talks about?" 

A clairvoyant feeling overwhelmed the spider, probably the same way spidey senses hit the normal spider-people around him. Somehow, he knew who she was, who her dad was before Lyla even said it. 

"Yep, that's (Name)'s kiddo," Lyla chirped. 

Miguel looked at the girl. He really looked at her this time, feeling some sort of stupid with how much she looked like you; her hair was fluffy and unkempt in the same shade yours was, the shape of her nose was like a smaller, cuter version of yours, too. Then there were her eyes. That same hazy hue of uncut gems, a colour of protective dullness that hid something brilliant and effervescent from the outside world. 

"(Name)'s kid," Miguel repeated. Your name felt comfortable on his tongue these days. "Kid, I–what're you doing here? Where's your dad, huh?" 

The girl, very clearly looking around the room to try and spot the elusive Lyla, shrugged. "I 'unno." 

Colour Miguel unimpressed. "Oh, you don't know. Good. Great." He tutted before running a hand through his hair. "Lyla, call the kid's dad–" 

"He's sleeping!" She blurted. "You can't just, like, wake him up; Dad never gets to sleep." Her arms crossed tightly over her chest as her cheeks puffed. "And my name's Isabella, y'know." 

Miguel's dark brow raised in question. "Isabella." Said with a Latin accent. Interesting. Miguel's chest felt tighter. "If your dad's asleep then he probably left you with someone." He looked at her expectantly. 

Isa shrugged again and scuffed her worn soles against the floor. "Mr.Parker didn't notice. He's watching Natalie and Nico and May 'n whatever. So. Yeah." 

Mr.Parker? Oh. "Hm. He babysit you a lot?" God, Miguel should stop asking questions, but curiosity and that damn attention deficit had him by the throat. He turned around and folded his arms over one another, too, before leaning back against the stage console to speak with Isabella properly. 

"Ugh, why are old people so–so freaking annoying? I'm not a baby, I don't need anyone to watch me." Ah. Of course. 

"Oh, wow, ah-huh, yeah. Sure. I'm sure your dad agrees." Her amateur glare wrought a smirk out of him. Would he have argued with Gabi like this? 

Miguel cleared his throat and turned back to the console, reaching for another cookie absent-mindedly. "Look, you can stay here until your father comes to get you, but you have to stop touching things. Got it?" But Isa only grumbled and scuffed her feet again. "Isabella." 

"Uuugh. Fiiine." The girl plopped down into an old rolling chair. Miguel tried not to twitch. He would not snap at a child for breaking his chair, he would not do that. Absolutely not. 

Not even one minute of silence passed before the kid rolled closer to the centre stage Miguel stood at. "Sooo you're, like, my dad's boss or something?" 

"Guess that's the easiest way to put it." Miguel peered at the girl from the corner of his eye. 

"Okay, but what's the hardest way to put it?" Isabella wiggled and sat backwards on the chair, hugging the backrest as she scooted around the lab. "Are yooou…friends?"

Miguel shrugged. "I'd say so." 

"Hmmmm. Are you more than friends?" 

His eye twitched again. "Do you interrogate every adult like this?" 

Isabella huffed. "Uh, he made you cookies. It's sooo not weird to ask if you're, like, a thing." 

"A thing." 

"Like boyfriends–" 

"Santa Muerte, I know what you mean, kid." 

"Okay." Silence fell for all of ten seconds. "I'm just saying–" 

Miguel groaned. "Can you stop talking for five minutes–" 

"--you'd be waaay cooler to have for a step dad than all the people Dad's been dating." 

"Yeah, well, I'm hard to beat." Oh, wow, did he just say that about himself? Christ. Miguel took a deep breath and tried to relax his shoulders with all his might. "That came out wrong. I–look, you need to just–he's dating?" Miguel cringed. It's not that he was interested in you like that, just…he was nosy, that's all. But he was incredibly aware of how that must have sounded to an equally nosy tween. 

Isabella perked up. "Uh, yeah. But everyone he dates ends up being suuuper crazy and weird. Like, it's reaaally bad." 

He shouldn't pry. He really shouldn't. "...Bad how?" Ay, Miguel. 

"Like, they're always super clingy or don't like kids or something. And, like, Nico and Nat had moms who had dads who super hated dad, so they gave him money to make him go away." Isabella nodded matter of factly. "That's what Dad said. He's super sure he's cursed or something. Granny was a bruja y'know." 

Miguel shouldn't be listening to this. He shouldn't be prying into your life through the conduit of a chatty kid. Asking you would be the better option, but this way was so much easier. It felt like he could finally get a grasp of what you'd been through, and maybe catch a glimpse of who you were behind the scenes. 

"Then what about your mom?" Miguel asked, crossing his arms and flicking his gaze back to the monitors. "That didn't happen with her?" 

An offended gasp burst from the young lady. "No! My mom was so not like that. She was Dad's girl!" 

"No kidding." Miguel hummed. He wasn't about to ask what happened to her. Spiderman never had an easy romance, never had an easy life. 

"Yeah! They fought in the war together, and her name's–" 

"Isabella." Your voice cut through the air like winter rain. Miguel almost got chills, and Isa squeaked before hopping off her chair and scrambling on the stage to hide behind Miguel. 

"Oh, look at that. Someone's in trouble," Miguel mumbled, mean smirk quirking the corner of his mouth. 

Isa glared up at Miguel. "Jerk."

"Isabella, quit bothering the boss," You groaned tiredly. Miguel's ears perked as the coo of a little one fluttered through the air. He turned and found you holding the littlest baby in one arm, and a toddler in the other, both incredibly K.Oed.

"M'not bothering him!" She protested. "I'm just hanging out!" 

"Cut the crap, you're probably complaining about school or about my love life or how I wouldn't get you a new phone or some shit." Miguel had to fight back a laugh. He'd never heard you so exasperated nor animated before. "And why the hell did you run off, huh? You had Pete freaking the fuck out." 

"I got bored! I just wanted to go look around!" Isabella pleaded with a puppy-level whine.

"Isa, this place, it's–it's not meant for people without powers. You could get hurt, alright?" You adjusted your grip on the two little ones in your arms. "And the lab is a whole 'nother story, Christ–" 

"It's fine, (Name)," Miguel cut in, turning to you. "She was fine." 

But the worry lines creasing your forehead didn't smooth quite as much as he wanted. "'Ppreciate it, Boss. But, I…" you trailed off, sighing softly. "Yeah. Just. Thanks. I'll, ah, get her out of your hair. Bet you've got work to do." 

Mija, let's go is what Miguel swore he heard come out of your mouth before Isa pouted and ran after you.

Mija. That word brought a world of hurt and comfort to his chest–the coincidence of Spanish on your tongue felt too…perfect, like you'd learned it just to shove it in his face. But Miguel knew better. 

Isabella. 

Mija. 

Your girl, Isa's mother, must have taught you. He liked that, for some reason. The idea of learning something new for a partner. What would you teach him if you were– 

Woah, woah, stop, Miguel. Stop. His ears turned hot. He worried at his bottom lip with fidgety hands before shaking his head free from such dangerous thoughts. 

Focus, he chanted to himself, you've got work to do. 

--

You decided you were sick that day. No, you weren’t really, but the headache chipping away at your skull suggested that, hey, maybe staying home for a day wouldn’t be a bad thing. You could use a break from dragging yourself around New York, searching for the next big scoop, the next tragedy to document and earn a living off of, too. 

So, there you were, in bed, with the tv in the front room playing some sort of movie that you’d heard a thousand times but never learned the name of, while your littlest, newest addition to the family starfished in a laze, his tiny tummy pressed to your broad chest. Your fingers lazily rubbed circles against his little back as he snoozed and drooled on your shirt. Somehow, the giggling and chattering of his sisters didn’t wake him up. Maybe the drumming of your heart, or the safety of a warmth he hadn’t known until now, drowned all of it out. 

He didn’t even stir when his sisters screeched.

You closed your eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. God, please just let it be a spider, please just let it be a spider. You sat up, holding your baby to your chest as you plucked a gun from the side table. You carefully set Nico down into the warmth of where you were laying before stalking to the door and whipping it open, gun poised and ready for–oh. A big spider.

“What the fuck, Miguel,” you hissed, beyond exasperated as you lowered the gun. “Why the–what–I could’ve shot you.” 

Miguel looked beyond bewildered, though some would say entirely bamboozled. He had his hands up like the police had them in his sights, his face was a combination of embarrassed, shocked and annoyed, and his claws had popped out in his flustered panic. His spiderman suit was still on, but he had that white hoodie thrown on top like it’d hide the fact he was spiderman. Hopefully it did. 

“I–” Miguel started.

“Ah-ah.” You cut him off like a dog misbehaving. “Girls?” Their heads popped up from behind the couch and you sighed in relief. “It’s alright, he’s a friend. From work.”

One of your daughters gasped. “It’s the weirdo that’s suuuper into dad!” Isabella cried, jumping out from behind the couch and pointing an accusatory finger at a very unamused-looking Miguel. 

“For the last time, I’m not–”

“You so are!”

“No, I’m not.”

“You are!”

“Yeah!” Natalie joined in, hopping up and down by her sister excitedly and pointing at the man they deemed guilty. “You are, you are!”

Miguel, probably halfway to an early grave, looked to you for help. But you flashed him a tight-lipped smile that said more than words could offer: perish. 

You let the girls hound him while you turned on your heel, heading back into the bedroom to sooth your stirring little boy. The gun found itself back in the drawer, safety on, magazine removed, before you scooped the tiny being into your arms and smooshed up against your chest. Your son quieted and clung to you. You left a kiss on the top of his head to welcome him.

"So," you started as you came back to the scene of the crime, "the hell're you here for, Boss?" You asked, completely unfazed by how the girls had corralled him onto the couch and had his hands in their own, their curious fingers pushing on his tendons and making his claws pop in and out. Honestly, you were pretty tempted to do the same. 

Miguel pursed his lips and ignored the gremlins on him as he looked at you again, something distant softening his features. 

"I, uh. I heard you were sick," he confessed with a small shrug. "Just thought…y’know." 

You hummed as you rubbed your son's back. "Huh. How'd you find that out?" 

"Peter mentioned it." 

"Pete doesn't know I'm sick." 

"Must've been Jess, then." 

"Jessie doesn't know either." 

Miguel was caught. His ears grew red before his cheeks did, and you smirked. Cute. Way too cute. 

"Lyla told me," Miguel grumbled, finally. 

"Ah. There it is. Not so hard to tell the truth now is it, Miggs?" You said with a Cheshire smile and a wink. "Good to know you've got your confidant spying on me." 

Miguel freed himself from the children and stood up quickly. "It's not--I'm not spying on you, I–you–" Miguel pursed his lips. "I don't need to explain myself." 

That made you laugh. "Relax, tough guy. I don't mind ya swinging by. Or, hm, guess I don't mind ya portal-ing in." Miguel didn't seem to think you were that funny, but thankfully Nico, in his haze of dreams, giggled at the right moment. "Nicky thinks I'm funny. You should take notes."

It didn't take much convincing to get Miguel to stay for dinner. You made him take a shower, though, and leant him some clothes to lounge in while you cooked everything from scratch. From scratch. Miguel couldn't remember the last time he had a home cooked meal. 

"Yeah? That's sad as shit," you remarked nonchalantly as you diced vegetables. "Tell ya what, you make it a habit of coming around, and I'll make sure I make extra for you, yeah? It's important to have that home cooked goodness for your soul 'n what not." 

Miguel felt his chest fill with something fluffy and warm. "Good point." But it wasn't, really. "Guess I'll have to make it a habit." He leaned back against the counter as he watched you prep everything. "Wouldn't want you putting in all that extra effort for nothing."

You twitched a bit of a smile and nodded. "My thoughts exactly." 

You spared a glance at Miguel. He looked calm, at ease, like the threat of the dimensions collapsing wasn't at the forefront of his mind for once. You thought, maybe, this might be the first time in a long time that he had his mind off work. Maybe he was doing that whole human thing and enjoying the present for a change. Jumping to conclusions wasn't really your style, though. 

Crimson eyes flickered, then, gazing towards the crib settled in your bedroom. He must've heard your little man stir. He must've wanted to do something about it, if his sudden shiftiness told you anything. 

"You mind checking on him?" You asked softly, knowing that, maybe, this was a big ask for a man who only had a phantom to tuck in at night. "He's fussy. Likes to be held." 

"You're sure?" The other man asked, brows furrowed in concern. 

"You kidding? If there's any guy I'd trust with my kid, it's you." You fiddled with the wrapper of the packaged chicken meat before ultimately stabbing it with a knife. "Go on. Before he starts crying." 

And Miguel wandered off to the little one. His voice had that sound to it when he spotted him, that kind of gentleness a man unlocked when he felt what it meant to be a father, a protector of a smaller soul. You listened hard for Miguel's smile, and felt your heart throb when you heard, "Hey, mijo. ¿Estas bien?" leave his lips. Your little boy cooed, and Miguel made a noise that sounded so frightfully domestic and dad-like, you thought you might perish on the spot, or fall in love in a second. 

Get it together, get it together. A deep breath steadied your blitzing nerves when Miguel came back to the kitchen, Nico in his arms, smooshed up against his chest. You stole a glance, smiling to yourself when you caught Miguel mooning over the lazy bundle of joy. 

You worked fast, feeling a weird, undeniable desire to talk after you had your army of children fed and sent to bed. Miguel didn’t leave your side, nor did he deign to put Nico down, not through soup and sandwiches, not through 20 questions hosted by Isabella and Natalie, and not through the moments alone where you herded the young ladies off to wash up before getting them to bed for the night. 

“Y’know, you’re gonna spoil that kid,” you said with a smile when you came back to find Miguel on the couch with your son. You sat down by him with a dad-like sigh and peered at the little one snoozing away. “He’s gonna demand you hold him every time you come around.”

Miguel huffed a laugh. “You make it sound like it’s a bad thing.”

“Hey, with arms ‘n pecs like that?” You pat one of Miguel’s impressive biceps to prove a point. “I get where he’s coming from. Lots of free real estate with good foundations.”

“Oh? You want me to hold you too?” Miguel offered, some sort of impish lilt lifting his voice as he looked over at you.

You fought back the urge to swallow. “Sure. If you’re offering.” But Miguel looked a little caught again, a little unsure of how much to tease and how hard to press, so you let him off the hook with a laugh. 

“Man, you really remind me of her.” You rested your head against the couch, maybe a little bit on Miguel’s shoulder, as you watched your boy sleep. “Liliana,” you amended, “Isabella’s mom.” 

Scarlet eyes flickered to you. Seems you caught his attention. “Liliana,” Miguel tested the name on his tongue slowly, thoughtfully. “Isabella’s mom.” And after another pause, he asked, “I guess she’s gone?”

“Gone. Yeah.” You blinked slowly, and let the words rotting in your lungs breach the surface: “I killed her.” Ah, maybe you said that with too much nonchalance, you worried, but Miguel’s low hum seemed to suggest otherwise. 

It felt good. You couldn't stop yourself from talking. “It was an accident, I guess. She was a scientist. Geneticist, I think. Made me into, well, whatever I am now.” You flexed your hand and looked it over, like the blueprints of your design were still hidden under tired skin. “‘Cause, y’know, I was a soldier, she said I was gonna be the next Captain America, but… that doesn’t matter. Anyway, side effects were bad, really bad. I freaked out, then--then, y'know.” You took a breath. “Killed my little girl’s mom.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek as you stared at nothing, sucked back into a daze and a trance you’d long forgotten about. But you remembered the blood, the screaming, the way you and those webs ignited and how the white lab coats all howled and screamed and popped. The scent of roasted flesh should have disgusted you, it should have knocked some sense into you and dragged you out of whatever episode you were having, but instead–

Your stomach growled, and you cleared your throat. 

“Yeah. That was a bad day.” 

“I get it,” Miguel said, and sounded like he meant it. “Guess something like that happened to me.” 

You peered up at him, glimpsing his conflicted, troubled look. 

“Yeah?” Thought Spiderman had a boring, normal story. Because, in totality, you were something more demented than just Spiderman, so your story was more fucked up than the rest. Maybe you were wrong.

“Yeah. I was–my research killed someone when I was trying to make them into, well, Spiderman.” Miguel sighed and shook his head, admonishing himself from the past. “I didn’t want to. I got pressured into it. Drugged when I wanted to quit. It was a mess.

“Tried to rewrite my DNA, and then a colleague shocked that up for me, and I ended up with the claws, the fangs, the–the everything. Slashed his throat by accident, got some other people killed when they tried to help me, killed some baddies when I didn’t mean to.” 

Miguel’s gaze turned to you. “So don’t think you’re alone.” 

“Huh,” you said astutely. “Guess you really meant it when you called us ‘miserable bastards.’”

“Takes one to know one, I guess.” Miguel’s shoulder shifted slightly, easing down so your head could rest more comfortably against him. Your chest swirled with errant embers, but you tried not to think too hard about it. 

“You said I reminded you of her. Of Liliana?” Miguel asked, quiet and tentative. 

You hummed. “Yeah. The good parts.” You smiled (when had that gotten so easy?) and reached over to brush some dark hair from Nico’s tiny forehead. “She was smokin’ hot.” 

“...Huh.”

“Way too smart for her own good,” you continued. “It's always the smart ones that get me, y'know? Anyway, she was sly 'n funny in a mean way, but hey, I like that shit. Maybe I'm a masochist." 

"So," Miguel started, shifting slightly to face you more, "let me get this straight. You think I'm 'smoking hot,' 'too smart for my own good,' and 'funny in a mean way'?" The grin on his face was too much for you to handle. Why did you feel so hot suddenly? Why was he so close suddenly?

"I think that sums it up." 

"Huh. Anyone ever tell you you're an asshole?" 

"Ouch. Okay, what if I throw in 'she was born to be a bangin' mom','' you offered, feeling a long-forgotten rush of excitement as you sat up and leaned in close, so close, your hand coming up to cup the side of his strong neck as you kept talking, "and that she made me feel somethin' for the first time in a long time?" 

You could feel Miguel's breath hitch in his throat as he measured the gap between you two, his eyes flicking down to your lips and back to your eyes in debate. You wanted to close it. With every inch of your being you wanted to take the plunge and crash your lips against his. 

But, with every fibre of your soul, you didn't want to fuck this up. You didn't have words for what this even was, but you cherished it. Sauntering down this line of friendship, of companionship, was better than taking the dive back into that world of icy yearning and wilting roses–this type of love, the platonic sort shared between brothers and men, was meaningful in and of itself. It was good enough.

Wasn't it?

You looked over his face, in disbelief with yourself. "Who am I kidding?" You whispered, letting your hand fall from his neck like a glacier shearing away from its home. 

A small, tired laugh crawled from your chest, and you rubbed your face. "I, uh, think I oughta call it a night. I'm gonna–I gotta tuck Nicky into his crib." And carefully, gently, you scooped up your monkey and whispered quiet thanks into his hair–your little man was the perfect scapegoat. 

What're you thinking? Careful hands pulled up the banana-patterned blanket over Nico's tiny form after you'd set him down in the cozy crib that he loathed so much. You thought it was nice and comfy. Hell, if you could fit, you'd probably snooze in there all day. 

"Good work today, Nicky. I think you made the big guy relax a little, y'know?" Your son cooed sweetly in his sleep, and your spirit lifted just slightly. It almost gave you the strength to go face Miguel after coming onto him so hard. 

Finding the last bit of courage yourself, you gave your boy one last kiss on the noggin and quietly snuck out, closing the door with utmost caution behind you, only to be pressed up against it a moment later, and smothered with a kiss. 

A bolt of lightning kicked your pulse into triple time as you kissed Miguel back. His hands caught you by your hips, and your arms hooked around his shoulders and pulled him in closer. The simple thing was exhilarating. He was exhilarating. The embodiment of strength and resilience, of power and intelligence, was crushing you up against a door and taking the air from your lungs with such ease. 

"Fuck," you gasped when you parted with a wet noise that sounded far too Hollywood. "You're not half bad." 

"You've got a talent for ruining the mood." Miguel scoffed and tilted your chin up. His half-lidded eyes drank you in as soft breaths left his parted lips. You wanted nothing more than to be eaten whole by him (was that weird?). 

"I got a few other talents, too," you purred, voice swirling with velvety dark chocolate. "But that might be too much for an old man like–" 

Your squawked indignantly when he scooped you up and hoisted you over his shoulder like you were nothing but a petulant child. Your hands scrabbled against his back, and a shocked bout of laughter bubbled up from your core as he slapped you on the ass hard. Was this real? Were you seriously getting manhandled and spanked by Miguel O'hara? 

Miguel almost threw you onto the couch, but you guessed the children snoozing in the next room over hampered that decision. 

"If there's one thing I'm never too old for," Miguel murmured lightly, almost condescendingly as he set you down on the couch and got on top of you, "it's sex." 

Your eager hands flitted across his taut muscles, too excited and undecided as to where to land first. "Thought you were too old to sleep around?" 

"I don't sleep around," Miguel corrected, letting you fill in the blanks. 

That helped you relax a little. "Yeah?" 

He looked so conflicted, a little embarrassed, too. But that was becoming more and more common these days, thanks to you. "Yeah." 

You nodded and reached a hand up to his cheek, and he leaned in graciously as a needy cat might. "Okay. Then I don't either." 

Miguel hummed, and turned to mark your palm with a little kiss. "Alright." 

"And maybe…we don't fuck tonight." His sleepy gaze found you again with one dark brow raised, surprised. "I'm, uh, I think I'm down pretty bad for you, Boss. I don't wanna fuck this up." 

And, truth be told, you wanted to give him some respite. Maybe you wanted to give some to yourself, too; Liliana and Dahlia danced through your mind so much these days, no thanks to the burgeoning fondness growing for Miguel. He reminded you of both of them, of Winter and Summer, of snow and flowers. But it wasn't fair, not to you or him, to compare him to the epitome of cold and the apex of warmth. You needed time, too. Time to learn how to compare him to no one.

Miguel smiled, small and sincere. You admired the fine lines crinkling the corners of his eyes. He looked so handsome when he smiled. You wanted him to do it more. Were you enough to make him smile more?

"Yeah. I don't want you to shock this up either," he said, and your brows raised, incredulous. 

"This is what I get for trying to be mature ‘n romantic, huh?” Your fingers drummed against the arms caging you in. You thought about chancing a finger-taser to his ribs, but with those damn claws of his, you were a little too worried about your couch cushions getting demolished.

His handsome smile turned into a punchable smirk. “What? I’m agreeing with you.” 

“Ah-huh, ah-huh, that’s all, hey?” You leaned up and kissed Miguel again, slower and tamer this time, but still burning with want. Ugh. Why did you have to try to be all mature and romantic? “You’re just being a good boy?”

Miguel’s hips twitched at that, and it was your turn to smirk. Oh, how the tables turn. 

“Lay down,” you ordered, sitting up to get out from under him. “Come on.”

“I–what?” He grumbled, looking a little befuddled and frustrated. Cute, cute cute. “Thought we agreed on–”

“Heavy petting’s not off the table, right?” You cut him off. Miguel perked a little bit at the suggestion and did as he was ordered, his hands finding your hips again as you took your turn straddling him. “Luckily for you, I’m an expert at the clothes-on experience.” You winked and Miguel sucked in a breath. 

“Show me.” He ordered, voice deep and gravelly.

And you did.

[itsuki-minamy]

"SIDE GOLD"

CHAPTER 4: IKU AND THE BIRIBIRI GROUP (Part 1)

* List of Chapters

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Anno

"Homeless". A child who does not have parents or guardians and who has not settled. In Japan during World War II, there were many war orphans who lost family members in war fires and their homes burned down. Among them, most of the children who lost their place to go became homeless drifters. During and after the war, their lives were extremely difficult and many of them became involved in criminal activities.

The "Kagirohi Trade Association" market was bustling as if the commotion from a few days ago had been forgotten. On that isolated vacant lot, the "Yakumo" gambling hall is being rebuilt under the leadership of Tamataro Okuma.

"Bastards, I'll finish it before opening time!"

A loud cry that made even the thick billboards that were up tremble.

Although it is called a rebuild, it is not a complete creation. As long as there is enough space for people to gather, such as a game room, the deal is done. It was a random hasty construction to build a house that was as small as a shack. The new "Yakumo", which no one remembers what generation it is, has already completed the frame and is in the process of installing the roof and walls.

"I understand, big brother Okuma!"

"Thanks to the boss and sister, I am used to erecting pillars and thatched roofs!"

"Don't say that, if they listen to you, you'll have to start over."

Rude, hard-working people are inefficient and unpredictable despite their good humor, but their environment is cheerful. The reason why many of them don't feel terrified when witnessing mysterious monsters is because they feel comfortable living from day to day, and more than anything, they trust their boss, who has declared that he will defeat them next time.

From the ceiling to the front of the wall, work voices flew.

"Are the blue clothes still keeping watch in front of Yokocho's gate?"

"Ah, they still go back and forth with Danbira in hand."

According to what they heard from the older sister of the blues, the monster appeared because the powerful boss and the guy in the blue hat collided. So it seems that it will probably be safe if both sides back down after sharing the pain. As explained, the boss, who had turned off due to various incidents, simply withdrew, and the blue hat also turned its back and left. At the moment, it seemed unlikely that the blues would go in or out, or even encounter the monster. It seemed that peace had arrived.

Each person had a different way of perceiving such results.

"Heh, even though the monster has been quiet ever since, they've had difficulties every day."

"You better be careful. I'm sure you feel the same way about blue clothes."

"What? In front of you, you are not afraid, are you?"

"Oh? What is it?"

Not satisfied with the exchange of voices, he rolled up his sleeves and pressed their foreheads against each other.

"Who is scared... Ouch?!"

"Nga?!"

Okuma's fists attacked in quick succession. Blocking the sunlight with their thick bodies, the two of them crouched in the shade with their heads in their hands, and a loud voice fell over them.

"Move your hands instead of your mouth, layabouts."

"Hehe!"

"Sorry!"

Okuma looked at the two people who were scattered, and then looked at all the work.

(It should be back to normal before today's opening.)

After thinking about it, he felt a stab in his throat like a small bone.

(I wonder if it will really go back to normal.)

It's not just about conflicts with monsters and the blue clothes.

Okuma wasn't amused the fact that some kinds of "King" or imposed good manners are getting in the way with straightforward gait of his proud boss.

In the neighborhood where the sound of work can be heard, there is a Suwako canteen. This whimsical restaurant (the only sign is "meshi") has a reputation for being cheap and filling, but the taste is average. It is also known as the place where Unno Yutaka stays when his usual hideout, Yakumo, is destroyed, and is seen from the outside as one of Kagirohi-gumi's strategic bases.

Actually, it was just a place where Suwako let him eat free food and Unno would lie down in a small room in the back. For the former, it was an important space where they could recover the relationship they had when they met. But to the latter, that is unknown thing because he hadn't even hinted at it, let alone talked about it.

Now it's Suwako's turn to feed him free food. In the middle of the small shop, Unno is stuffing his mouth with okara sushi at the counter. As the name suggests, it is a dish that cannot be said to be a dish that only puts ingredients on a piece of okara, but it is a specialty of this restaurant.

The side that is allowed to eat is hated and slaps him in the mouth.

"Only the topping has improved."

* Okara Zushi; a type of sushi that used Okara(soy pulp) instead of rice, with topping a fish marinated in vinegar. It is local food in Chugoku-Shikoku region.

"Shut up and eat, you bastard."

The usual show of cutting rebukes from the feed side.

It was supposed to be usual for Suwako to rest her chin on the counter and look at the stubborn Unno, but since that night, she felt a bit strange.

"Yutaka-chan."

"What?"

With his mouth open, Unno replied.

Suwako lifted her chin and used the courage she had built up over the course of several days to ask.

"Are you ok?"

"......"

Unno munched his okara sushi in silence. Secretly thinking...

(I wonder if it came out on the complexion, it's gross.)

He still hasn't resolved his feelings about meeting another "King".

Of course he wasn't intimidated. It was uncomfortable knowing that the anger and desires that were supposed to be him were embedded in something else. Besides, not being able to sort out his feeling like that was very unpleasant. With holding such a stone weight, he couldn't laugh optimistically, or stop thinking and run.

Ignoring all of that, he might have been able to become stronger.

However, when he ate at that restaurant, he felt a little less competitive.

That's why the answer wasn't clear.

"How is?"

"Yutaka-chan, aside from me, that sort of thing... were you aware that there are some really cool psychics out there?"

Suwako isn't afraid to reach Unno's core when they are alone in this restaurant.

Unno also responded to Suwako, who did so as honestly as possible.

"As for the guy with the blue hat and Ootono-nii-san, I didn't know until I met them. But the other person..."

"Um, the monster with the gapped teeth?"

"No."

After a brief denial, Unno paused to put his feelings into words.

"I've felt many times that somewhere far away... well, deep..., there's a guy reaching into the river and trying to catch the current."

There was something that came to Suwako's mind.

"Even if that's the case, the guy with the blue hat said something like that when we parted ways..."

"......"

Unno didn't even hide his displeasure from her and remained silent.

After dismissing Thomas Colt, just before Kagiro-higumi and the Fourth Legal Affairs Bureau withdrew, the guy in the blue hat (the husband), the Blue King, pretended to make a casual postscript and offered some history.

"This is a test, but are you willing to meet the "Golden King" Daikaku Kokujoji?"

And of course Unno... "No."

He just returned a word over his back as he walked away.

(That's right, I can't stand doing what that bastard says.)

Thinking of that, Unno reached for the okara sushi again and saw that Suwako's face was filled with anxiety. Its meaning was easy to understand. Or rather, the kind he himself had.

There is something big that you don't understand.

It was the feeling of existence beyond the words "Slate" and "King" that Nazumi said.

It was a terrifying power that haunted him, that if he could feel it and touch it, it would be irreversible.

That's why Suwako is afraid from the bottom of her heart of him.

For Unno to meet the "Golden King".

Being carried away by something big and mysterious.

That's why Unno said it clearly.

"I do not go anywhere."

"Yes."

Suwako's face, who answered in a low voice, turned pale and bright.

Unno felt embarrassed by the situation and tossed the pickled okara sushi into his mouth. As he muttered and chewed, he opened a mouth again with hatred.

"You're not good at grabbing at all."

But he will never say that he like the taste. So that Suwako can see his feelings in his smile. Of course, the answer is short.

"Noisy bastard."

++++++++++

Daikaku Kokujoji, the "Golden King" who normally refrains from going out, sometimes makes exceptions.

That was the meeting with the president of the ruling party, who was escorted by him and "Tokijikuin", and this time it was a special trip. The destination is a villa in the suburbs owned by the governor.

In a large site in the mountains, it is commonly called "Oyashiki" witlessly. In part, it was a signal to avoid telling details, including the owner.

In a simple but elegant Japanese-style room facing the courtyard, the two faced each other over celebratory dinner with sake.

Kokujoji was wearing a suit and was sitting up straight like a statue.

The president was dressed in a kimono and sat loosely crosswise. That wasn't because he was arrogant, but because he received a gunshot wound from a thug during his time as a diplomat before the war, and couldn't sit on his knees for long periods of time.

The president said in a calm voice that he didn't seem like a tough face.

"I heard about that, Kokujoji-kun."

"Hah, it seems that he is the "Seventh Person". As a result of discussions with Director Nazumi, we have decided to call him "Colorless" for the time being."

Kokujoji responded with a mild explanation, but that is not the issue the president wanted to bring to the table. For him, "Slate" and "King" were things to talk about next to reality.

"I see."

After slightly nodding, the original topic was brought up.

"By the way, it seems that Nanakamado's work unit was present at that time."

"...That's how it is."

Kokujoji, who guessed, felt ashamed of his immaturity for misreading the focus.

Only the "King" and his empowered ministers could perceive the strangeness of the unexpected "Seventh" as an imminent threat. For ordinary people, it was natural that they had little knowledge or interest.

(At this rate, the way forward will be in jeopardy... study up and take heart.)

In today's reality, in other words, what is important to the president is the "political significance of Nanakamado, an intelligence agency, using force at his own trial.

"I heard, that they even fought a street battle against the "demon" in question."

"Fourth Legal Affairs Bureau arrived just in time and we were able to contain the turmoil within one area of the market. The workforce has also managed to capture almost everyone."

"A person seems to be sent back to them."

"Hah, an American commander. Director Nazumi will probably serve as a check or a warning to Nanakamado, but it will have little effect."

As expected, Kokujoji was surprised by the accuracy of the information he was given, even when he communicated without hesitation. In just a few days, from what source did he get the information? He has been swimming through the turbulent political world for nothing, and has reached the post of president. Kokujoji was impressed by his speech technique, which didn't make the other feel hard.

(This is the "Gold" that he himself have prepared and polished...)

The president is not a servant of "Tokijikuin", nor is he attracted to any talent.

Or rather, Kokujoji had yet to add to his vassals a single politician who had become his sympathizer. This is a measure to ensure that "Tokijikuin" gets involved in the political world from the point of view of a collaborator.

That "Slate", like it or not, creates a side to rule and a side to be ruled. Furthermore, instead of "mentally and physically acknowledging'' social status and biological abilities, it "gives structure to the functions of kings and ministers."

The EX-α individual and the β individual are not the same at all.

There was a huge difference in the functions and overall power of the two.

The problem is not how do they feel that, is the fact as that is.

In a post-war society where distrust and hatred of authority burn, and, moreover, in the ideal democracy that Headquarters tries to establish, this "structure" placed under others provokes resentment or even more indignation. Of course, it would be even more so if someone with high social status, such as a key politician or the head of a conglomerate, couldn't always get the talent he wanted.

The reason why Kokujoji keeps his former subordinates as comrades-in-arms and dedicates himself to behind-the-scenes work is to make them seem like a powerful but closed small professional group. (It is also based on the same reasoning that Nazumi established the "Fourth Legal Affairs Bureau'' as a department with a legal foundation.) Even if they were wrong, they should not have been made to think of themselves as beings privileged above people... as the "transcendent ruling race" that the German Third Reich dreamed of.

Still, ever since "Tokijikuin" rose to prominence despite being behind the scenes, sharp-nosed politicians, ex-servicemen, surviving liberal activist, and even charlatans of the like have contacted Kokujoji to become his vassals. There have been many attempts, even more cases of faster attacks and kidnappings to seize power from the "Slate" or "King".

Humans are creatures that greedily seek power.

Especially now, when society is full of gaps and opportunities.

These realities made Kokujoji well aware of the dangers of hastily introducing the deadly drug "King", which was in the midst of trial and error, now in post-war, here in Japan.

Therefore, while sympathizing with the regime, they did not merge, and while showing their intentions, they did not issue orders... This position was firmly held by the "Golden King" Daikaku Kokujoji and "Tokijikuin". And it was precisely because he continued to stand his ground that he was able to gain the trust of the political world.

At this time, he can even have a secret face-to-face conversation with the president of the ruling party, who is not even his vassal.

"I see."

The president gave a slight nod again and casually filled the cup with sake.

"I agree with you."

Kokujoji did the same and filled his own sake cup.

"What is the trial material?"

"Although it has some privileges and power, it still feels like an intelligence agency running too wild. I tried looking in various directions to see if there was a backup behind it."

After half, the president wiped his cup at once, perhaps to moisten his throat or to make a decision, began to speak in a calm voice to Kokujoji who was waiting for his words.

"They frequently communicate with Atsugi."

"Atsugi?"

Kokujoji felt suspicious.

In the city of Atsugi, Kanagawa Prefecture, there is a large airfield for the occupation forces requisitioned from the former Japanese army. Immediately after the war, many squadrons were deployed, but by the end of 1948, it had become a supply base for the occupation forces in the Kanto region, and no military forces were stationed there.

"That place is under the jurisdiction of none other than the Headquarters, and even if you say Occupation Army, it is just logistical support..."

As he answered, Kokujoji thought of something strange.

In Atsugi, there is a large-scale facility that doesn't look like a supply base.

It was a "radar site" radio detection facility for the detection of sword-shaped "Schwert" Kouki, which the occupation forces hastily set up for fear of a mass uprising by the Japanese people in response to the "Chofu Incident".

In reality, this facility was useless. He ended up showing that all the sword-shaped "Schwert" Kouki that appeared after Red, Blue, Green, and Gray did not show any reaction to the radar. The reason why the facility still stands is due to both the practical aspect that is useful for air traffic control of the Occupation Forces, and the psychological aspect that is a symbol of confrontation with the unknown.

Kokujoji had investigated these items as being related to the "King" of him, but from the conversation with the president, he suddenly began to worry about a certain item. Slowly he spoke.

"If I remember correctly, the electrical probes placed there were under the jurisdiction of the United States Department of Defense, not the Occupation Forces. Engineers sent from the country of origin are also managing maintenance."

"Yes. That is very important."

The president nodded three times like a professor giving a passing grade.

"It appears to have been removed from the Defense Department's Advanced Research Projects Agency "ARPA" in response to a request from Headquarters to send in the latest state-of-the-art equipment. It is the people there who are in charge of maintenance."

After a pause, his calm voice turned heavy and low.

"Officially, most of them were reorganized last year, and they are the intelligence officers of their home country."

Kokujoji was surprised and accidentally put down the cup.

"......! Are they from the CIA?"

In the era of its predecessor, the Strategic Intelligence Agency "OSS" (although it was only three years ago), the Central Intelligence Agency "CIA" began to fight with the Headquarters over the advance of their base of operations in Japan. a destiny whose activity was sealed.

Since then, the Commander-in-Chief, Admiral General, dislikes "rogue spies", and has not tried to interfere with Japan. It was supposed to be, but it was only on the surface.

His undiminished anti-communist sense of mission and desire to expand his power secretly spread the roots of the conspiracy to Atsugi's neighborhood, or even to Nanakamado's throat.

(Nazumi also reported that Nanakamado was "exporting" psychics for anti-communist spy warfare... certainly, the recipient could be no one other than the CIA.)

Kokujoji finally found the reason of unusually bullish attitude of Nanakamado.

"So Nanakamado is trying to survive after our country regains its sovereignty by communicating with the CIA in the United States and cooperating in the re-advancement?"

"Nanakamado's intentions are probably like this."

And then the president spoke calmly about the core of the crisis.

"The nature of this matter is much bigger and deeper. Most worrisome is that the Pentagon is involved in the camouflage operation. There is only one person in the world with power that can make them allies of the CIA."

"......!"

Kokujoji guessed with a shudder, but didn't mention the title.

With the president's understanding, he added the most alarming information he had collected.

"The Department of Defense is sending a light aircraft carrier to and from Yokosuka under the pretext of carrying materials to Atsugi. Half a year has passed. It seems that the overbuilt ships from the previous war are being used as transport ships."

The tone of voice that he did not believe on the surface of the information was the meaning of the information.

"When we bring in materials, we line up the cars to watch the roads where there are no attackers. For some reason, most of these staff members are Japanese. What do you think of this situation?"

"The convoy... is probably practicing marching along the way, disembarking and deploying to military installations."

Kokujoji first thought of a former soldier and then of a "King".

"Japanese pretending to be guards are believed to be people with 'exported' skills in the past."

"In other words, the CIA is preparing a unit of talented people in our country, separate from Nanakamado."

"The reason they are using the Japanese is that they are doing everything they can for the local powers, and they are sure to get rid of them."

The president was calm, Kokujoji was strict.

"Hm, it's a way of doing things, similar to an intelligence agency."

"Nanakamado's original plan was to secure a piece that would guarantee the superiority of Headquarters, in other words, to secure our "King"... or perhaps make him cooperate."

After a calm exchange without changing the tone of theirs voices...

"However, they, who should have sent out the elite soldiers, were completely defeated by the "King" and were not able to get his cooperation. Even so, there is another goal in daring to use a unit of talented people."

"If it's the second best measures, they won't hit the same enemy twice... then,"

After sharing and researching, checking and analyzing, the two of them naturally came to a solution.

Even with that conviction...

"The next best thing is a sudden armed rebellion..."

The president involuntarily smiled wryly at the eccentricity of the resulting solution.

"It's like a coup before the war."

"It doesn't matter if it's successful or not, the goal itself is to create a riot in Tokyo. It would be nice if it could be used as a basis for criticizing the Occupation Army's current occupational rule, especially its ability to maintain public order."

Kokujoji was able to see through the brutal fashion of the time, where politics was intertwined with conspiracies and tyranny.

The president also calmly pursues the dangers affecting Japan's national fortune.

"The continental United States is participating in this operation to strike a blow at Headquarters which is too arbitrary. The overall goal is to create an excuse to reduce the excessive authority given to Headquarters and push Japan back into an anti-communist bulwark."

The old politician smiled wrinkled when he realized that all the cards were in his hand.

"I see, it's a nice photo."

With a smile on his face, he became furious.

"But I won't forgive them."

"Yes."

Kokujoji is also short and sharp and he agreed.

An air of tension filled the air between the two of them.

Kokujoji was the one who moved the fastest and stood up without panicking.

"Please leave me your phone. I will urgently take countermeasures with the Fourth Legal Affairs Bureau."

"No, I'm the one who will call to."

The president, who took the thought of him one step further as a politician, stopped him. He explains before asking.

"An armed rebellion is different from a popular uprising that can only be stopped by dissipating the accumulated heat. It is an operation based on a political plan. Furthermore, both the initiative and the execution come from the intelligence agencies."

"Eh?"

Kokujoji, who couldn't understand the meaning of his explanation, took the form of an attentive listener.

The president admonished the young man who thinks he is fit about the dynamics of politics.

"In other words, if it turns out that he can't carry out his plan, it's the kind of thing that loses the foundation of the rebellion and puts an end to it."

"Do you have a measure to prevent the outbreak in the first place instead of suppressing it?"

"It's not as difficult as calling it a measure."

His smile, still filled with rage, glowed with murderous political maneuver.

"However, by making a proposal with the above reasoning, we can take away the bases to activate it."

"Proposal... what, where?"

The president, showed his "gold" to Kokujoji.

"Dismantle the intelligence agency, Nanakamado, to the commanding general of the occupation forces."

Saying so, he clapped his hands to call the butler.

In fact, a phone call was not enough. As soon as an appointment for negotiations was made at the Dai-ichi Seimei building in Yurakucho, Tokyo, where the general headquarters are located, the president returned to Tokyo in a safe driving car.

"Until I'm gone, give the quarterback time to reflect. A phone call is a message that says 'I'm going to make a proposal like this'', and it's a grace period to make a decision. I am a gentle man, so I will go home at a slow pace."

That's what it looked like.

Kokujoji did not accompany him, but according to the guards who were sent in his place, the negotiations in the commanding officer's office were completed in a very short time.

Then the next day at noon.

Immediately, Kokujoji received two notices. The first was a document from the Department of Public Health and Human Services containing the Directive of the Supreme Commander of the Allied Forces (SCAP Index Number, or SCAPIN), as recommended by the Governor.

As written...

"Notice: 1. There is no intelligence agency under the Supreme Commander of the Allied Forces, Headquarters, which controls the Japanese people by any special means. 2. The Research Institute for Infectious Disease Control (at the Nanakamado City) will be decommissioned and withdrawn as of tomorrow in accordance with the achievement of its intended objectives. 3. Tasks 2 will be handled by the Metropolitan Police Reserve, US Army 1st Cavalry Division and the US Army's 97th Infantry Division."

It made no sense even to those who didn't know the circumstances, and it was extremely harsh for those who did.

In summary...

Nanakamado will be dismantled after its existence is officially denied.

The research institute where has been their base of operations will also be demolished, leaving no trace.

Not only the police but also the Occupation Army will be involved in the implementation.

That's what it meant.

You could see the marshal's anger as much as the president's, if not more.

(Not unreasonable.)

Kokujoji thought.

The United States has just forced Headquarters to change its policy of rebuilding Japan as an ideal democratic nation. It would be strange not to get angry if he knew that a conspiracy aimed at further reducing the authority of Headquarters was afoot at a time when the humiliation had not cooled. (As for the marshal personally, after the crushing defeat in the presidential election half a year ago, he was deeply involved in rebuilding Japan.)

The fact that the negotiations with the governor were brief also shows the extent of his anger.

Driven by ambition, the Nanakamado intelligence agency faced the end of punishment.

Regardless of what they thought, they were just an unofficial branch of the Occupation Forces, with all the authority given by the Headquarters. As long as their authority is revoked before the uprising, the intelligence agencies' ability to carry out their actions... in other words, the ability to force their way through the outside world will be gone, with one exception.

And due to the dissolution of the organization guided by the Japanese side, the troops prepared in Atsugi lost sight of the reason and the opportunity to move. If an armed rebellion is a political plot by an intelligence agency, it will be even more difficult to move lightly in uncertain circumstances. The prepared combat power became useless.

Above all, this order is also a signal to confront the home country that "Japanese Headquarters and the Japanese government have become aware of the plot". The situation has already moved to a phase where both parties are playing bargaining both implicitly and explicitly. Whether the result is a restoration of relations or an escalation of conflict, the turn of active force will not come for the moment.

The political apocalypse is coincidentally decisive.

Nanakamado's future was completely closed.

However, they are left with one more option that will not lead them into the future.

An act that is nothing more than a sterile and perverse struggle.

The option was to use the existing force to explode.

If they thought about it with calculations and reasoning, it was almost impossible to take such an action. There was no longer any prospect of reversing the situation, no matter how they used the forces they had, they could not expect the support of the CIA, and the credibility of the Headquarters had eroded.

Yet even so, for humans... especially for an organization that is entrenched in only one direction, impossible behavior often becomes a last hope. If violence is the only card left, the illusion is stronger.

In case Nanakamado did turn out to be like this, Headquarters prepared a second copy, a document from the Second General Staff Department (intelligence agency representative).

According to the document...

"Notice: 1. Request the Fourth Legal Affairs Bureau to supervise the dismantling and removal work of the Research Institute for Infectious Disease Control (in Nanakamado City). 2. The commands and orders for dealing with people with capacity to induce and maintain anomalous phenomena will be in charge of the director of the same office, and not of the National Public Safety Commission. 3. All responsibility for actions in accordance with the notification falls on this headquarters."

It was an official dispatch request to confront the psychics organization directly from the Occupation Forces Headquarters.

In other words...

"Fourth Legal Affairs Bureau" will be in charge of responding to the outbursts of people with capabilities.

They would not care about the higher ranking organization and would act according to the judgment of the Chief, Somei Nazumi.

Whatever happens, the Occupation Forces Headquarters will take responsibility.

That's what it meant.

This precedent will determine the position of the organization, such as the nature of the duties carried out by the Legislative Office of Legal Affairs, its superiority over other police organizations, and the maintenance of an independent chain of command.

Anyway, everything was ready.

Calling out will be tomorrow.

There was no time for political maneuvering.

Even setting up a counterattack would be dangerous.

The Metropolitan Police Reserve Corps (predecessor of the Metropolitan Riot Police) and the Occupation Army will be in charge of dismantling and removing the facility, and if a person with capabilities moves, the "Fourth Legal Affairs Office" will delete it. Atsugi's forces are politically neutralized and there is no threat of intervention.

"Everything, no omissions."

The president said by phone during the preliminary consultation.

Kokujoji thought so too, and actually responded in agreement.

But...

(Is that really so?)

Somewhere, he had the feeling that something was issuing a strong warning. Assuming it was the "Golden King's" intuition, he didn't know where or what made him feel that way.

If he dared to raise a concern, it would be the matter of "Colorless King", but if it weren't for the huge power clash between the "Kings", it should be nothing more than a threat from a street passerby.

Even if Nanakamado mobilizes all the remaining ability users and challenges in a battle, he doesn't think they'll be able to develop a fierce battle that would make "Blue King" Somei Nazumi manifest "Schwert" above his head.

(Someday, the power of the other "Kings" will have to unite to deal with the "Colorless", and they will have to take it seriously... but, in the morrow, there should be no curtain for that to happen.)

Faced with a fate that has yet to be understood, Kokujoji had no choice but to confirm the current situation.

The president will take measures to control the situation, the marshal will make the difficult decisions, and the "Blue King" will take over the actual work... these measures are being carried out without delay and without fail.

The situation was supposed to proceed as planned.

There is nothing to worry about, it is fair and safe.

Both the era and history march orderly on the basis of reason and rationality.

Until the arrival of the "King" of change, who destroys and disturbs all those inevitabilities.

The last day of December 1948.

A long day for everyone, the first difficult step of regeneration is approaching.

[trickstarbrave]

The first Dragon, the Twilight God, the World Eater

How do you call it a rebellion? When a monarch can no longer rule, does the throne not fall to his first son?

I wonder if that is what he believed, when he declared himself king.

heyyyyyy i played around with lighting and i ended up finishing it (please don’t ask me how i did this in a few hours i think I was possessed). just felt like drawing a slightly younger alduin, before you know. they decided all the roles and everything and the gods fought and they ripped lorkhan’s heart out. thinking on the lore, lorkhan did promise akatosh the right to rule mundus, but what with all actually becoming a part of mundus that seemed pretty hard to do. so i couldn’t help but think if that wasn’t the justification alduin had for declaring himself king and starting the dragon cult. if akatosh cannot rule, why should the scaled prince not take the throne?

i unno just some food for thought. alduin is such a fascinating and controversial figure in elder scrolls mythos its such a fucking shame he is just some big boss at the end we never really get to explore.

[kazuma-asogi-blog]

what expectations? that your hair is black and soft and sharp-ended like the midnight dawn, and that it belongs to the most handsome man in all of england? mr handsome thats just facts. more people should know this i think because thats just true!! im not giving anyone expectations that you cant meet because you surpass them all!!!

yes i know, but i did make some soup, its garlic and nettle and carrot and forest greens!! and i will deliver it tomorrow morning first thing!! mr pretty prosecutor decided im not a poisoning risk so i can just make you both food now, which is good for my heart. i felt bad not giving both of you food and now you both get food!! also i made bread, so you will have bread to dunk in your soup.

but so far as i have heard hes got a garlic allergy? because of the whole hes-a-vampire thing? or maybe thats just garlic blossoms, but you dont cook with those. i unno it seems not worth the risk.

and its okay that your dancing isnt the best, i can get you rhythm and someone!! is going to have to teach you to dance to an irish jig!! ive never seen japanese dances before you should show me. i fiddle in the streets sometimes i think this might work!!!

i didnt get to make a report though even though you told me to. im really sorry i did want to just. jack told me who the inspector was (some guy named edword allaw?) but then he said no one was going to listen because id never be able to prove anything and hes probably right but. okay this may sound weird but he did say if i snitched to the reaper hed send the professor after me and then he tried to punch me. he missed and put a hole in his wall but given that the professor killed the one guy not sixty feet from my flat (thats what that old chalk body mark is, the neighbourhood kids keep redrawing it) i am gonna. desperately hope the reapers handsome apprentice does not count. is that ok?? i hope it is ok but i am getting a bit afraid here!!

Well, I...I'm flattered.

Thanks for the soup, it was still hot and the perfect thing for a day like today. It may be spring now, but the weather is miserable, isn't it? And I'm impressed you got Lord van Zieks to try something of yours.

Oh that? Heh. Maybe he is a vampire. You never know...

I have never seen Irish dancing. I would be interested in learning about it as well.

Thank you for the name. I will make the report. You should be careful - confronting a criminal alone is dangerous and foolish. As for the Professor, he is dead and you have nothing to fear from him.

Sorry if I'm short, I have...something on my mind.

[lovinkiri]

Undercover Wild Cat, Twenty-Two

Author's Thoughts: A bit of pressure is relieved from our characters here!

Description: Sasha spends most of her day in a police station. Not only does she have a serious talk with Naomasa, but she finally has her first conversation with Bakusince he was taken. And finally, Naomasa makes a hard decision: will Sasha live in the dorms?

Art Credit: @.jabberwockyface

OC Credit: @jix-the-dragon

Sasha sighed, watching as Katsuki was escorted into the police station. She, Eijirou, Izuku, Yaoyorozu, Iida, and Todoroki stood side by side. It felt like a weight had been lifted off their shoulders, seeing him finally safe. He was going to be safely returned to his family. Sasha smiled at the thought. She owed a lot to Mistuki and Masaru for helping her through her guilt. 

“I guess it’s basically over. Nao took your statements already, right?” She looked at the others, watching them nod their head, giving their respective confirmations. She had figured as much. Nao had shown up on the scene quickly, and though she could tell he wanted to, there was hardly any time to chew her out over her recklessness. Instead, she took him to reunite with the others, where he then had individual conversations with each of her friends after tending to Bakugou. 

“Well,” She sighed, giving them a grin. “I think Nao called your families, they should be here soon. I’m going to head inside the station. Nao’s my ride home, and he’ll want to talk.” She said, holding her arms out, offering a hug to anyone who’d accept. They smiled, Eijirou the first to hug her, Izuku following right behind. Todoroki joined in awkwardly, then Yaoyorozu, then finally Iida. She giggled, purring softly at the warm hug. The six of them would always have this moment to look back on, along with the entire previous night. A bond had formed from the terror they shared, but also the trust they put into each other.

They began to pull away, everyone except Eijirou had at least. He nuzzled her neck, sighing softly. She curled her fingers in his hair, rocking just a bit on her heels. “So… You’re going to stay and keep studying at UA… Right?” He asked hopefully. He didn’t want to pull away, worried that she’d have a frown on her face, an expression that told her that she had no intention of staying. After seeing her in action, he could see just how good she was at her job. It dawned on him that she wouldn’t want to leave all of that behind.

Interrupting his worrying thoughts, she laughed and pulled away just enough to rest her head on his. Their eyes met and she grinned up at him. “That’s what I’m leaning towards. Of course, I have to finish things up with the commission, so I don’t know if it’s actually going to happen. But I want to, so I'll try.” She reassured him, bringing her hands to his cheek and gently rubbing them with his thumbs. “Of course we’ll continue seeing each other though. You, Bakugou, Denki, and I will be hanging out again in no time.”

He returned her smile and nodded. “Right. You’re right, Sash. Everything’s gonna be alright now.” He sighed, a weight lifted off his shoulders. Hearing Iida clear his throat awkwardly behind him was enough to make them pull away. Eijiroiu scratched the back of his head bashfully, a small blush on his face. “You should head inside before your guardian comes out and catches us.”

Sasha laughed at the thought but agreed. It was probably for the best. Naomasa had never seen her so cuddly with a boy, but knowing how protective he could be, she determined today shouldn’t be the day. Especially since she was about to get scolded anyway. She turned and began heading into the station, but stopped when Eijirou called her name one more time. When he looked back, he held up his phone.

“Call me! I want us all to hang out again, yeah, but I owe you a date. Just the two of us.” He said cheerfully, looking at her with sparkling red eyes. It took quite a bit of confidence to declare such a thing out loud, and that didn’t go unnoticed by Sasha.

With a blush across her face, she brought her hand to her lips and blew him a kiss. “You got it, Ei!” She replied, chuckling as his face got redder. She walked into a station, proud of herself. If he was going to make her blush like that, she would do the same. He was so cute to fluster, she noted that she’d have to do it more often.

As she walked through the station, she felt eyes on her. The officers were staring at her with frustration. Not because they were actually angry, but because they were worried. After living with Naomasa for years, she had become a regular face at the station. From the looks of it, each officer wanted to give her a stern talking to. She smiled and laughed nervously, quickly making her way to Naomasa’s desk. 

He wasn’t there yet, so she sat in his seat, relaxing into the soft cushions. Finally, she could take a moment to relax. She didn’t have to worry about Bakugou’s safety or whether her classmates hated her. Sure, there were still questions she had about the commission, but those weren’t things she had to immediately confront. She was going to take a couple of minutes to relax before she met Naomasa.

She thought about everything she’d gone through with her classmates the night before. She definitely wanted to stay in UA with her friends, but that would be easier said than done. First, she’d have to accept that she couldn’t do much else to give her parents justice. AFO wasn’t saying much of anything about them from what she knew, Naomasa insisted on filling her in on the rest. She would have preferred asking AFO herself, but she thought it was best to comply with Naomasa for now. She’d worried him enough, after all. 

The commission wasn’t going to be happy about her breaking the rules. Her mission was over the night Bakugou was kidnapped. She was ordered that night to leave the students of UA be and let the teachers handle things themselves. But she still attended every meeting she could. She visited her friends in the hospital. And even took a few of them to save Bakugou on their very own mission. Yeah, they were going to be pretty upset.

Another issue she had to tackle was quitting the commission in general. She and Naomasa had meticulously gone over her contract when she first started, she was sure to quit pretty easily. But she had no idea why they’d been so sneaky throughout her time working her current mission. It was enough that she had the league going behind her back, but the commission was supposed to be on her side. So why were they hiding important information from her?

Naomasa walked out of the conference room he was in, immediately spotting Sasha at his desk. He crossed the room quickly, kneeling and pulling her into a hug. Surprised, she hugged back, her cheek against his shoulder. She could feel his emotions through his embrace, all of his love and concern.

“I’m sorry, Nao. I didn’t mean to make you worry, I just… I was trying to do the right thing.” She mumbled into his shirt, squeezing him a bit tighter. She didn’t realize how much she needed that hug. After the fear and pressure she’d felt the night before, comfort had been the last thing on her mind. But now that she had it, she didn’t want to let go. It seemed like Naomasa didn’t want to either.

After a few moments, Naomasa pulled away enough to cup her face in his hands. He had a serious look on his face that she didn’t see too often. He held her with fondness, but also with a grasp that told her she needed to look him in the eyes for this one. Now she was worried about him. She knew she was going to get chewed out, but this time, he didn’t seem angry.

With a long sigh, he shook his head. “Listen. I know you’re strong and I know that you’re a strong girl, so don’t think I’m doubting your strength or intelligence.  You’re one of the best agents they’ve ever had, you’ve never been anything but the best. Which is why–..” He stopped suddenly, and his voice cracked. Sasha went to speak, to say his name, but he continued before she could, his voice steadying as if it hadn’t cracked. “Which is why I should have noticed how hard of a time you were having. How guilty you must have been when things didn’t go as planned. I should have been there more. I thought you needed space, and I know you said you did. But when I heard Midoriya and Bakugou’s parents were there for you, I realized I wasn’t and—”

Sasha’s eyes went wide. She had no idea that Naomasa was feeling just as guilty as she was. “No, wait, stop. Nao, you didn’t do anything wrong. It was hard talking to anyone, but I thought I owed them that much. Their sons went through so much because of me. Yes, they were helpful and I’m grateful for them. But you have no idea how many times I wanted to knock on your door at night and just cry. But I didn’t feel like I deserved that, I couldn’t, I had to stay strong.” She tried her best to explain it to him, her guilt bringing tears to her amber eyes. “God, how long have you felt like this, Nao? You should have told me–  Well, I know I’m not one to talk about communication, and I’m sorry, but…”

He watched her trail off before going silent, then he spoke up again. “All For One is extremely dangerous, Sasha, and way stronger than I thought he was. And you’re my daughter. I always imagined that when you got him, you’d have loads of agents behind. And I know you had All Might with you along with other heroes, but I nearly had a heart attack. Just thinking about how easily I could have lost you scares me. So…” He sighed again and placed a quick kiss on top of her head, mumbling into her hair, “Don’t you ever scare me like that again. And tell me if you’re going off to fight a league of villains by yourself.”

She smiled a bit, hugging him again. “I’m sorry I put you through that. But I can’t exactly promise to steer clear of trouble because… I’m thinking about attending UA. I think I want to be a hero.” She said the last part slowly, hoping he would be happy for her. “I mean, I like being with my friends and having such a bright future. Working from the shadows, it just doesn’t feel like me. I don’t know when it happened, but I stopped thinking about revenge, and started thinking of the right thing. And I like this new me.” She rambled, wanting to get her point across as quickly as possible. 

Nao gave a hearty laugh before nodding his head, pulling away again to look at her. “I like this new you too. I don’t think you understand how happy I am to hear you say that. I mean, I don’t like the thought of you fighting villains for the rest of your life, but I do like the thought of you being happy.” He returned her smile with a wide grin. “That’s one of the most important things to me in the world.”

She held back the urge to cheer, instead leaning back against his cheer, her expression showing just how ecstatic she was. “... I think I’d be a better hero anyway. Obviously, I’m not very good at following instructions as an agent. I’m way better at running in and saving lives.” She half joked, shrugging her shoulders.

He shook his head, obviously amused by her words. “They called you Wild Cat, right? More like Wild Brat.” He stood up to his full height before sitting on the desk, ruffling her hair. “That’s my Wild Brat.”

They let a comfortable silence set in, the only sound being the faint bustling officers making their way through the station. Sasha had expected Naomasa to be a lot angrier, and Naomasa hadn’t expected her change of heart. But the unexpected arose, and both of them relished in it. They’d gotten a lot off their chests already, and the air suddenly felt lighter. 

“So… Is Bakugou okay? He was really quiet on the way here. Didn’t say a word.” She crossed her arms across her chest, lightly tapping a claw against her skin. The question had risen from the back of her mind through the silence. His unnatural silence had worried her and the rest of her classmates throughout their entire trip. It just didn’t suit Bakugou, though nobody was blaming him. Sasha couldn’t imagine she’d have much to say in that situation either.

Naomasa seemed to hesitate before answering. “Yeah… The kid is kind of traumatized. He’s been through a lot. Just… Give him some time. I’m sure he’ll talk to you about it eventually.” He said, nodding his head towards the conference room he’d come out of. “He’s in there, waiting for his parents.”

As if summoned by Naomasa, Mistuki and Masaru Bakugou came barging into the police station. She couldn’t see them very well, but she couldn’t mistake the sound of Mistuki’s voice. The woman sounded like she was close to tears. After a moment, they came into view, both of them walking briskly. They looked at Naomasa and Sasha expectantly, and the both of them responded quickly, pointing to the conference room in sync. The parents wasted no time running into the room, and Sasha heard them shout Bakigou’s name. She was sure it was a touching reunion to witness, but it was their reunion to enjoy. Nobody needed Bakugou more than his family right now, and vice versa. 

She looked at Naomasa again, another thought coming to mind. She had to ask him about the idea Principal Nezu had decided to implement. “Right, Nao, I had something else to ask you. Principal Nezu had this idea of putting the students into dorms,” She started, leaning her cheek on her palm. “But I think Aizawa will want to talk to you about it. And All Might, if he stays at UA.”

“Knowing All Might, he will if he’s allowed. And I don’t know about a dorm. I’m all for you battending, but… I don’t know, after all this, I’m a little nervous about you living away from home.” He admitted, cupping his hands together.

She nodded, bringing her feet to the seat and holding her legs to her chest. “I thought you’d say that, that’s why I’m telling you now. Just think about it. Please?” She sat her chin on her knees, looking up at him pleadingly. 

Standing from his desk, he ruffled her hair once more. “Of course. Promise to think about it, Sasha.” He placed his hands on his hips and twisted his upper body, cracking his back. “Well, I’ve got to get back to work. Should go in there and check on the situation. You gonna wait out here?” He waited for her response, nodding when she responded with a “yes”. He made his way back into the conference room, regaining all of his professionalism.

Sasha waited for a while. She spent that time calling the commission and letting them know that she’d be able to speak with the president soon. She was ready to let go of her life as an agent. From what she heard, the new dorm, “Heights Alliance” would be built in just a few days. She wasn’t surprised at how quickly they worked on it, UA did care about the safety of their students, after all.

Gentle sunlight streams through the windows, casting a warm glow across the desk before her and all of the papers on it. It seemed Naomasa truly did bury himself in his work. She’d have to talk with him about that later. No wonder he was always losing things and leaving them at his desk by accident. She could count on two hands the amount of times he’d left something here and had to go back for it after just getting home from a long shift. 

Then she fixed her eyes on the conference room. She wondered how Bakugou’s parents felt about the idea of a dorm. When she talked to them, it didn’t seem like they harbored any ill will  towards UA. They actually seemed very thankful for the school. Bakugou’s parents were surprisingly sweet and understanding. Especially Mitsuki when you get used to her loud nature.

Inko Midoriya was another story. That’s not to say she wasn’t kind, the woman was a total sweetheart. She was even more fierce than Sasha thought she’d be though. She didn’t hate UA either, but she definitely wasn’t happy with them about how things had ended up turning out with Izuku. He’d been hurt so many times under their care, Sasha couldn’t blame her. After seeing a fraction of what Naomsas was feeling despite her remaining uninjured, she could only imagine how Inko was feeling.

Then was her concern with Bakugou. There was quite a bit to worry about there. First, there was his mental and emotional wellness. She knew Bakugou was never one to outright express his feelings, usually his words would give him away if someone were to read between the lines. Or rather this time, it was his lack of words that gave him away. While she was glad to see him physically okay, his overall wellbeing was still a priority to her. 

She wondered if he would say anything to her when they left the room. It seemed like he wasn’t angry with her the last time he saw her, but it was a rescue mission, and he didn’t owe her forgiveness. She was sure all of her classmates didn’t fully trust her yet, and she could accept that. But she knew it would hurt, especially from Bakugou and Denki.

The more she thought about it and waited, the more nervous she became. She thought about running into the bathroom for a bit, but she knew she had to stop running away. She did it once and saw how it hurt Eijirou, plus it didn’t exactly make her look good either. Now she was going to step up, own up to the truth and her consequences. If that’s what it took to earn forgiveness, to have her friends be comfortable with her again, she was going to do it.

Eventually, the door opened. Her ears and posture perked up, looking at the door curiously. Bakugou himself stepped out of the conference room, closing the door behind himself. It didn’t seem like he noticed her at first, so she began hyping herself up to speak up. Before she could catch his attention, his eyes found hers as they scanned the room. He quickly looked away at first, as if he’d been caught staring, but just as quickly changed his mind and looked back at her. Sasha could tell what he was probably thinking. She concluded that he was probably asking himself why he should be the one to look away, the proud pomeranian. She got amusement from that thought.

Slowly, she stood up and made her way over to him, deciding it was best to move to him rather than call him over to her. Each step closer was scary, but she pushed that aside. She couldn't imagine Bakugou was very relaxed as he watched her approach him, and she was right. He couldn’t help but feel nervous, though he wouldn’t admit it.

Then she was standing in front of him. With a small smile, she gave a soft sigh. “I’d ask how you’re doing, but… Yeah. It’s good to see you though, really good. I was really worried about you.” She rubbed her arm as she spoke, overthinking every word that left her mouth. Would now be a good time to joke with him as if nothing happened? Or would that make her an insensitive, bad friend?

He didn’t talk for a moment, which was more nerve-wracking than she thought it’d be. Then he sighed, which didn’t calm her nerves either. “... I'll be fine, you don’t have to worry about me. And you don’t have to step on eggshells either, house cat.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes.

All of the tension she left her body all at once. She let out a breathy laugh before nodding in agreement. “Got it. Just saying, glad to see you still kickin’, explodo boy. And I’ll give it to you, you were great out there, defending yourself against all of them.” She admitted, shrugging.

“I don’t need you to tell me that, but… Thanks… Thanks.” He mumbled the second one under his breath. She looked at him in confusion, not sure why he’d say it twice. Then she realized she was thanking him for two separate things. The compliment and the help.

“Don’t thank me. Just let me take you and the other two boys out soon… At least, I’d appreciate it if you did.” She decided at the last minute to fix her wording, not wanting to sound too pushy or like she was forcing him into hanging out with her. She didn’t want to overwhelm him either. 

He grunted softly. “Yeah, fine. You can tell me more about that spy crap while we’re at it. Speaking of which… Are you going back to that?” He approached the question with hesitance, nervous about what she’d say in response.

But her laughter let him know he had nothing to worry about. She shook her head and opted to lean against the wall beside him. “Not if I can help it.” He said, nudging his arm a bit with her elbow. “If things go over smoothly with the commission, which it should, you’ll be stuck with me for a while.”

“Well.” He huffed, looking forward as if staring off into the distance. “Guess a little suffering won’t kill me.” He spoke in a way that made him sound like he was resigning himself to an absolute fate. Sasha noticed the faintest trace of a smirk on his face, and she grinned.

Right as she started to retort, his parents walked out of the conference room with Nao and another officer. Mistuki immediately greeted Sasha, pulling her into a tight hug. Sasha yelped in surprise but laughed again, returning the embrace.

“Hey, Kid! Nice to see you again. Heard the good detective here is your guardian.” She gave her wide grin before winking and lowering her voice. “Casually mentioned the dorms while we were in there, right after Katsuki left the room. Think I might’ve swayed him a bit.”

Masaru nodded, casually putting an arm around Katsuki’s shoulders.”Mitsuki can be quite convincing. I think she got him on board.” The ashe blonde wore a look of annoyance, but didn’t move away. In fact, Sasha swore she saw him leaning into his father’s side. He was obviously putting up a front with his expression. She was sure his parents noticed too because Masaru smiled, patting his son’s shoulders reassuringly, as if to tell him he was okay and that he wouldn’t let go. 

She and Mistsuki pulled away from their hug and the older woman puffed out her chest in pride, crossing her arms. “Of course I did.” She said in a way that resembled her son. It made Sasha chuckle a little under her breath. “Now, Sasha, we’re going to get Katsuki home. But you're welcome over any time. I wish he brought more friends home, the damn recluse.”

“Oi, who are you callin’ a recluse, hag?!” Bakugou shouted as his father pulled him out, Mitsuki right behind them. “I’ve got more friends than you!”

“Oh hush! You’ve got a few friends, and I’ve only met one!”

“You’re embarrassing!”

Sasha watched the family leave with fondness in her eyes. They really were an interesting family. Sure, their dynamic was different from most families, but that was what made them so fun. And honestly, it wasn’t like she and Naomasa were your conventional, run of the mill family either. 

She sighed and walked over to her guardian, yawning. “Can you take me home? I really miss my bed. Last night felt like a million nights. And after seeing Bakugou, the exhaustion is starting to catch up.” She asked, stretching her muscles. 

He smiled and placed a hand on her head, guiding her towards the door. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s get you to bed, Wild Cat.”

“Thought I was a Wild Brat.”

“Maybe it’s a bit of both, haha!”

- Sasha and Naomasa’s Home, The Next Day -

Sasha brought bottles of water over Aizawa and All Might. The two were pretty tense, and for good reason too. They’d asked Naomasa about the dorms about three minutes ago, and Naomasa only sat there, pensive watching them in silence. Sitting beside him, she gave him a nudge.

“Don’t mind him,” She laughed before glancing at him and speaking through gritted teeth. “He’s just tired. Long shifts, busy days. Right, Nao?” She smiled innocently, but anyone could tell her smile was urging a response.

Huffing in frustration, almost like a little kid, Naomasa gave them one more once over before responding. “How do I know you’ll keep her safe? I get that being a hero is dangerous and all, but in order for these kids to be heroes, they need to make it through their studies.” He paused before continuing. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re a friend, All Might. And I respect the heroes, including you and Eraserhead. But as a parent who sees things from the inside, being a detective and all, I’m honestly kind of scared.”

“Nao, I can handle myself. I’ve been an agent for years.” She started to plead her case, but he didn’t let her finish that thought.

Shaking his head, he was quick to shoot down her reasoning. “Sasha, agent or not, you are my little girl. I know you’re capable of protecting yourself, but I’m your guardian.Your protection is on me when you’re under my roof because you're my kid. I want to know that they’ll make the best decision for you in the long run. Okay?” He raised an eyebrow.

She could tell from his tone that this was non-negotiable. Slowly, she leaned back into the cushion, mouthing an apology to All Might and Aizawa for how awkward things felt. In the end, she couldn’t get upset at him for being a good father. 

All Might placed a hand over his heart. “Naomasa, Sasha helped me a great deal during my fight with All For One, which I have yet to thank her for. I ask that you let me thank her by protecting her and helping her.” He leaned forward, bowing his head with Aizawa. 

The tired man spoke up next. “As her homeroom teacher, I will take responsibility for her safety as well. I will run her dormitory myself, and not a single thing will happen without me noticing. All of the students can attest, I’m very particular with my students. With recent events, I will devote my attention to them even more.” 

Sasha smiled as they spoke. She could feel their devotion to their students through the words they spoke. And after everything, after finding out she wasn’t a regular student, after defying orders and going after Bakugou, they still wanted her. They still showed up at her home and bowed their heads to her guardian so she could stay in their dorms. It touched her heart and she could only hope it touched Naomasa’s too.

After another sigh, this one longer than the last, he gave a hesitant nod. “Fine. I’ll allow it. But I’m placing my trust in you and your school. Keep your promises.” Then he turned to Sasha again. “And you keep your promise too. Stay out of trouble, Sasha, I’m serious.”

She jumped up, throwing her arms around him. “Thank you so much, Nao! You’re the best.” She cheered happily. Even she hadn’t known she was holding in so much excitement, but out it came in that moment. 

Aizawa and All Might stood up, Naomasa following with Sasha clinging to him like a cat. All Might chuckled at the sight and shook his hand. “You have our words.” He nodded.

Naomasa hummed softly and shook Aizawa’s hand next. It was obvious he was still on edge about the whole dorm situation. But with her safety promised and her happiness on the line, there was no way he’d refuse. 

Sasha led them out of their home, waving at them. “Thank you, All Might. And thank you, Aizawa. I feel safe in your care.” She gave a small bow.

“Lift your head, Young Sasha, and hold it high. You saved lives. Without you, I might not have won. You deserve to be in the Hero Course, your actions prove that more than anything.” All Might smiled before getting into the car.

Aizawa nodded his head at her. “I will protect you, Sasha. You don’t have to defend your strength so much, I understand how strong you are. I just want you to know that you don’t have to worry about being strong enough while under UA’s roof.” He promised before following All Might and getting the car. 

With one more approving look, they drove off. Sasha sighed softly and leaned against the doorframe. Then her phone began to ring, Pulling it out, she checked the Call ID, recognizing the number immediately. Answering she brought the phone to her ear.

“Hello? Yes, hello. Yes, I understand that I’m in some trouble. But could you tell the president I have to talk to her.”

…

“Yeah, I need to know if I should bring in a resignation letter when I quit.”

[i0-0na]

Entry 5: Harajuku and Shibuya 109

Date: 01.04.2024

It’s been a few days of me living here now and I am literally itching to do something!!

I actually tried to make a list of places I really wanted to go to in Japan. I didn’t really write much since I was so busy but, there were two places at the top of my bucket list, Harajuku and Shibuya 109!!!

Back home I take part in this Japanese subculture called Gyaru. It’s all about looking fierce and feeling free! Whilst doing make up in a very specific way (the image below is of me before I left England, so you can kind of see a common style done, specifically a manba style. However this isn't the only style you can do, gyaru is a very diverse fashion/makeup subculture! Basically you can do different executions but you should follow a similar technique/core principals). So where else is a better place to do gal then in Shibuya!! Where it originated!!! I was really shy on my way there though, it felt like everyone was watching me I felt so nervous…

Loads of people talk about Japan and its xenophobia issue and I guess I was kinda worried…

FUTURE IONA: It’s okay, I think it’s a lot of people blowing it a bit too out of proportion, it’s not that bad, or better yet as bad as the internet makes it out to be.

I got to Shibuya 109, which is a big/tall shopping mall and is really famous, it’s always in anime/movies which are set in Shibuya. However I’ll put this point in here many people have been discussing the death of Harajuku fashion, there has been a big decrease ever since the mid-2010s in J-fashion participation in subcultures. Still in 2021 there has been a recent rise especially in the west of participation. So, though lots of people say J-fashion in Shibuya/Harajuku is ‘dying’, simply I think it’s more of it adapting especially because of the internet, you may not see everyone outside in their outfits, but it doesn’t mean that the art and community has ceased existing unno.

Shibuya 109 was filled with a lot of Jirai-Kei fashion, which is cute but not exactly my overall style I gravitate to, but I do find a lot of the accessories and shoes I saw absolutely adorable!

I then made my way to Takeshita Street and omg. My housemate said that it was going to be busy, but I did not expect it to be that busy!! Takeshita Street/Harajuku is a lot like Camden/Camden market, so imagine Camden on a superrr busy day. Yup, are you imagining it? Then exactly you get what I mean!

I was so hot, and sweaty, and tired, I could only venture halfway down the street. One store happened to grab my attention, with its mannequins adorned with punk attire and an entranceway which seemed to lead under street level, it piqued my curiosity. It was a cool punk/visual kei store!! They had pictures, polaroids, cut outs from the floor to the ceiling. I recognised a lot of the bands (visual kei bands). There seemed to be only one woman manging the small store and when she was done, she came up to me. I chuckled in awe and asked “バクチク は どこ ですか?” She proceeded to point out roughly 6 different photos in front of me, I would say hidden in plain sight but honestly this collage was so vast it would’ve been still so hard to find them lol. In these photos she was posed with the band in some of them. She tells me that she is a fashion designer and specifically designs clothes for v-kei bands like Buck-tick (my favourite band teehee ꉂ(ˊᗜˋ*)). Then it clicked in my head. I recognised her from this one documentary I watched years ago on YouTube, when I was just learning about J-fashion! She’s the same woman who was interviewed in that interview!! I was again in another state of awe. I was in the midst of one of the coolest beings in all of Harajuku!!!!!

I felt so happy, and in another sense, because she worked with Buck Tick it was basically like indirectly directly meeting them kinda! We talked a bit more; we spoke about how the lead singer died about a year ago and how sad that was. She offered for me to try on some clothes which were the kind of style Buck Tick goes for, but honestly, I would’ve loved to try the clothes on another day. I was just so exhausted and had kinda used up my budget for the day 0-0

I told her I’d come back another day, which I very much intend on doing!

For now I shall head home and rest ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

--------

Little fun fact: here are the names of some famous subcultures in Harajuku = decora, Jirai-kei, tenshi kaiwai, mori-kei, lolita fashion, visual kei, yume kawaii, yami kawaii and guro kawaii just to name a few.

Song Playing: Gag on it – Kim Petras

[kyupidos]

09/01/23’s delivery 🏹✉️ twisted wonderland

as if i know?!ヽ( ･∀･)ﾉ_θ彡☆Σ(ノ `Д´)ノ,ヽ( ･∀･)ﾉ_θ彡☆Σ(ノ `Д´)ノ ;; summary. ‘they ask a friend for advice on their turmoils— though they didn’t expect a response regarding romance.’

characters. scarabia , pomefiore, ignihyde : jamil viper , epel felmier , idia shroud ( separate ) ;; romantic . 🖇️ tags. reader is gender neutral ( you/your ), reader may or may not be yuu ( up to the reader ), pre-relationship, romantic fluff 📡

_a/n. finding stable wifi is hard, but anything to be on that tumblr fic grind 🫡 also i have such a twst bias something i forget i’m multifandom..i need to get to writing for those fandoms soon.

j. viper

— scarabia’s vice housewarden can’t be exactly sure what he feels for you. jamil was never one for expressing his feelings, considering his circumstances. and especially so in regards to romance, of all things. who was he to dabble in such a subject, after all, with it being so foreign to him? and yet all it took was you..and now he’s thinking and feeling all sorts of things.

— as for why he decides to consult kalim, he doesn’t know. well, at least kalim seems to be less emotionally constipated than he is, so there’s an excuse going for him. it’s a relatively normal scene, jamil is preparing food for a party and kalim asks him what he can describe about how he feels about you. it feels cathartic, actually, to get those emotions off his chest.

— though he doesn’t quite understand why when he looks up from his cooking, kalim is looking at him with an unexpected teasing face, holding back giggles; at least until it hits him. “jamil, are you sure you aren’t..in loooveeee??” oh, crud. he doesn’t know why it took him until that very moment, but his eyes widen just the slightest as he thinks back to every interaction he’s had to you thus far. yes, absolutely, he is in love with you.

— yet the first thing that jumbles out of his mouth as his face suddenly feels hot is, “how am i supposed to know?!”

e. felmier

— absolutely not; when it came to sappy, cringy things like romance, epel was not a contender in the least. so he absolutely could care less when he notices the way his heart beats faster when he’s around you, the way his palms get sweaty when he notices he’s a bit closer to you than he should be, and so many other idiotic romance tropes he swore he’d never fall into.

— however in the world he ended up confessing this all to troublemaker ace, he absolutely will never know. but at the same time, ace had a girlfriend back in middle school, right? so surely he has enough experience to tell him that no, it’s not romance, he’s just confusing it with something else, because there’s no way—

— “you’re in love.” ace sighed dramatically, epel sweating buckets at the response because based on how ace was acting, it was almost like the answer was obvious. as if he was the last one to know about his own feelings, even! though even despite this, it felt like epel knew that he was in love, yet being told it felt like being hit with a ton of bricks. “so, you gonna confess already, or what?”

— inevitably his accent ends up slipping, but he can’t be bothered to care. “uh..i ‘unno?!”

i. shroud

— romance? certainly something that’s the last thing on idia’s mind, that’s for sure. he’d much, much rather be involved in just about, well— anything else. such a thing always feels like such a chore to him, and it’d be way easier to be a romance god in an otome game, where the routes are laid out for him and all the options are pretty well coded as to whether or not it’ll romance the character or not. so real life romance? nuh uh. no way is he in love with you, surely not, there’s no way, nowaynowaynoway—

— he ends up asking azul for help during club hours. it made sense in his head, azul’s well versed in a plethora of things, so obviously he knows a lot about love, right? yet he was so quick to regret it. what if his stupid unsureness about his feelings for you end up as blackmail or something?! seriously, couldn’t he have gone to anyone else?

— though he almost screws up his play when azul lets out a knowing sigh, “certainly, you’ve caught feelings. romantic ones, at that.” “i have?!” ah, crapcrapcrap, he should’ve known! why didn’t his normie detectors work on himself?! and now he’s gotta deal with feelings, and his daydreams about being your boyfriend, and holding your hand when you get sad, and perhaps maybeevenkissingyou..

— “ah, you seem choked up, idia!” and the moment idia got lost in his thoughts about you, azul spoke up again. “could you perhaps be looking for a way to confess? well, i could help you out for the low low price of—“ “uwahh?! n-no, i’m fine!!”

[mansion-hidden-in-the-woods]

Lissten okay lissen, I unno if I should put it here ooorr on my lala blog but I'm gone put it here cause I want my oc stuff on that blog to find easily BUT honestly the zone I hate... is Garlemald. GARLEMALD upsets me on an EXTREME level. BECAUSE of the story. It's literally.. the story. The area itself is cool, it feels like a weird zombie apocolypse area and the fact that the music you hear is coming from a radio makes it pretty epic but I STILL fucking don't like it. The fact the story makes me angry and that FUCKING AETHER CURRENT QUEST WHERE YOU HAVE TO TRACK THAT CHILD DOWN! Never doing that again. Never until they fix it or something. NEVER getting the current from there fuck that shit.

My favorite tho is... The Steppe. I just... when I got to the Steppe I went O0O and then that place felt like home and I wanna drop my Xaela OCs there but I never even use them as much as my Lalas and *screms* But god I love it. It's just so cool? I don't know maann... I just love the Steppe. Everytime I get to go there it's just THE STEPPE MY BELOVED! XS I just can't ever decide what clan I want my Xaela from and then I just go back to my Lala anyway so my Xaela just... go to waste or they just stay as brain ocs T^T

ALSO I don't like the moon. The moon is also my least favorite cause it feels too big and that you can't really find your way around unless you actually learn flying, due to all the cracks and caverns and shit it has.

there are waaaaay too many options for a tumblr poll, but I'm curious, which ffxiv zone is your absolute LEAST favorite? which zone fills you with blinding rage whenever you teleport there? which zone do you wish bahamut had blasted into non-existence?

and sure, why not, what's your favorite?

comments/replies/tags welcomed for responses!

[strawberryspotsstuff]

OKAY. SO. TWO ASKS TODAY BECAUS E I HAVE A DOORS REQUEST !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

SO. A SEEK X READER WHERE SEEK IS LITERALLY JUST BEING A CREATURE LIKE READER WALKS INTO THE ROOM AND THE CHASE IS SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN BUT READER STANDS THEIR GROUND AND IS LIKE "hey >:(" AND SEEK LIKE STOPS IN FRONT OF THEM AND JUST SITS DOWN AT THEIR FEET LIKE THEY HAVE BEEN TAMED JNSGDYUISOLAMSDGYUIF ROTJING AT THE MOUTH SORRY FOR MY CHAOTIC ASK !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

OKAY HERES THE OFFICIAL ANON SIGN OFF BC I NEED ONE but at this point you know who i am but i dont care

-yippee anon

LMFAOOO AMAZING!!!!!!

THATS AWESOME

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Doors! Seek x Reader

Wandering down the empty hallways of endless routes and various cryptic chasing you, you began to slow your pace. Your stamina draining from your system, as you stretch your back, groaning in pain.

Noticing the next door didn't need a lock you made your way through, the sound of paint crackling and some, oddly wet sounds coming from the walls. As you turned your gaze to investigate it, you noticed that large, rounded eyes were blinking and starring at you.

Your rose a brow, and continued your venture, seeing that it didn't hurt you. Through stairs and puzzles, the eyes following your movements, you made your way to a long corridor.

Searching through the drawers and snatching any loose coins into your pockets, you yawned, bored out of your mind. Before suddenly being stopped. Your fingers just brushing the cold copper door handle, you felt a sudden urge to halt in your place.

Turning around you squinted your eyes as you watched the floor crack and creak. Black ink, almost a slime consistency poured from it as hands, arms and full body shapeshifted from it. It let out an earth shattering screech, the ground shaking as it raised it arms and ran towards you.

Your rose your eyebrows, crossing your arms as a challenge. God, you rather try "stop it" then keep running.

"Hey! Don't come any closer." You barked outloud.

Surprised, the creature, stood above you and stared down, its large, un-blinking eye watching your movements as it crouched down, its slippery arms crossing, copying you.

"UH- Good!" You praised, and with its large hands, it clapped to themselves.

Your snorted in surprise, tempting to reach your hand out and touch it. And you do.

The feeling...was, strange. Like those slimes, when picking it up you think your hands are wet, but are not, kinda like that.

Your shivered and reeled your arm back, looking back up at the creature, behind your back your slowly turned the handle and tried to shuffle on out of there!

As you scurried out of there, the large thumping of creature followed, watching you like a dog.

Heh, guess you're not alone anymore.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

HEHEHEHEHEHE, THAT WAS REALLY CUTE.

((AND I UNNO IF I SHOULD GIVE VOICES TO THE DOOR CRYPTICS??? maybe just like short sentences or words, which they learnt from the reader))

[dokujirai]

#70 テラと大瀬 (Terra and Ohse) Superhuman Share House Story 『CHARISMA』

TL Note:

CW- Emetophobia. The sounds Ohse continuously makes throughout this track are like vomiting sounds. He sounds like he's going to throw up.

As a side note, for some reason, I kept getting extremely sleepy during this one. You could hold a gun to my head and ask me what they say and I'll have to take the hit, sorry.

Also, if you saw my summary for this track before, I was waaaay off the mark on some things Terra said. When I first listened to it back then, I did it by ear (usually I like to type up the whole script in Japanese, when I did those summaries I simply wrote what I first heard) and ended up making some mistakes. Anyways, without further ado

Watch the track here.

Ohse: Guh.. ugh…

Terra: What’s wrong, ghostie?

Terra: Why do you sound like your gonna hurl?

Ohse: I-I can’t draw…

Terra: You’re drawing? Ahh, it’s the same one you left behind when you ran away.

Terra: Just hurry up and draw yourself so you can be done with it. 

Ohse: Well, it’s just that…

Ohse: Drawing myself is impossible.

Ohse: It’s too hard.

Ohse: It makes me sick just imagining it… so trying to draw makes me--

Ohse: Guh…! Ugh…

Terra: You must really hate yourself that much, huh.

Terra: That’s fine though, I got a great idea for you.

Ohse: What is it?

Terra: Instead of drawing yourself, just draw another Terra-kun.

Ohse: Heh? Is that okay?

Terra: Sure it is.

Terra: That way you won’t have to draw yourself, and everyone will be happy.

Ohse: O-oh…

Ohse: U-um…

Ohse: A-are you able to draw yourself?

Terra: I’m totally fine with it, I can draw myself and so can anyone else.

Ohse: Wow.

Terra: I’m always looking at the mirror or taking pics of myself.

Ohse: How can you love yourself so much like that?

Terra: I ‘unno. I just love myself. A lot.

Ohse: You’ve never hated yourself?

Terra: Nope.

Ohse: Never been absolutely disgusted with yourself?

Terra: Not possible.

Ohse: You’ve never felt like you’re a bother to others, or made them feel bad? You’ve never felt like that at all?

Terra: Never even thought about it.

Ohse: NEVER THOUGHT ABOUT IT!?

Ohse: EH!?

Ohse: NEVER!?

Ohse: You can live like that? How is that kind of life possible in this world?

Terra: That’s just how it is for me.

Terra: Everyone wants to be with Terra-kun.

Terra: Whether it’s to meet me, look at me, or talk with me.

Terra: Nobody feels bad around me.

Ohse: Amazing!

Ohse: You’re like a monster.

Terra: Hm?

Ohse: Eh?

Terra: Hah?

Ohse: Huh?

Terra: Eh?

Ohse: E-er…

Terra: What was that?

Ohse: N-no! That was wrong!

Ohse: What I meant to say was that you were amazing…

Ohse: I’m sorry-- what I was saying was that I hate myself. 

Terra: I see. You better be sorry.

Ohse: Yes…

Ohse: W-what do you think I should do?

Terra: Hm? About what?

Ohse: I want to fix this part of myself, but…

Terra: I don’t think it can be fixed, though?

Ohse: Eh!?

Ohse: I can’t fix it?

Terra: Isn’t it impossible?

Terra: You’ve tried to do something about it before, but you couldn’t, right? It’s tough.

Ohse: …

Ohse: So what am I gonna do with this drawing?

Terra: You don’t have to draw anymore.

Ohse: Eh!?

Ohse: I don’t have to draw? Is that okay?

Terra: Of course it is, it doesn’t matter anyways. I don’t think there’ll be much of a difference, whether you could or not.

Ohse: Hehhhh…

Terra: Can I go now?

Ohse: Ah-- s-sorry!

Ohse: Thank you very much.

Terra: If you do draw another Terra-kun, make sure to make me look super good, okay?

Ohse: Yes!

Terra: See ya later~

(The rest of the day passes with the sun starting to set.)

Iori: Hmmm… He’s working hard.

Terra: What’s up?

Iori: Ohse-san said he hated it so much, but he was still going to draw himself somehow.

Ohse: …

Terra: Hm?

Ohse: …!

Terra and Iori: Ooohh, he’s drawing, he’s drawing!

Ohse: Guh… urgh…

Terra and Iori: He stopped, he stopped.

Iori: I wonder when he’ll be all done.

Terra: Guess we’ll have to wait and see.

Ohse: Guh… Ueh… Urgh…

[shoezuki]

sorry if its not something u wanna discuss n it's just u rambling n wanna be Done n if so u can delete the ask np, but like.

i think connor was fine on da lesbian joke, speaking as an Official girl enjoyer, but it felt kinda like poking the bear with the hitler one? n also poor timing. i unno. still a hard connor frog but i think that one was just a rare miss from him

but i mean it was also Just that. we do not need to save bumper from him i pinky promise

OH YA I ABSOLUTELY AGREE W U LIKE. you cant really do somethin to purposefully piss off ppl and then say they r weong for bein pissed. Like it WAS bait afterall and it was jus to piss em off. Which he got. N like should he have tweeted it? Probably not. Was he a dumbass to tweet it? Ya i think so. Bait is kinda stupid as fuck

Moreso its jus the insane degree to which ppl reacted that is so out of pocket like. One bait tweet isnt the entirety of connor or his views n opinions. Like yes a miss qnd dumb to tweet but having entire twitter spaces discussing him and tellin ppl to infollow him and the idea that hes now an inexcusable bigot is dumb as fuck and WAY out of field. Like it got so ridiculous so fuckin quick

Instead ppl shoulda been like 'thats dumbass bait to make people upset' and jus ignore it. But ppl fell right into it n much worse