#ie rais having a son

[soullessjack]

ive been thinking a lot about how adrien was supposed to be disabled during his concept development and how much of a missed opportunity the whole thing was, like. on one hand I honestly respect the writers for backing out of a topic they thought they wouldn’t be able to handle well; not to say the representation in miraculous is anything great but it shows they do care about it at the very least, which is more than most media can say. I also know this was a decision that came way before the show even started, but I feel like Tomoe Tsurugi is proof that they can write disabled characters and do it in a way that’s fairly decent, so i feel like they could still incorporate it in now since their prior concern is pretty much ruled out (they’re never gonna do this).

and narrative wise I think it would add very much to the entire Agreste family arc, like idk. you could have his disability be a result of the peacock’s damage, or damage to his Amok. have it be part of the reason why Gabriel is so controlling and isolating (ie; viewing his son as frail and made of glass now) and distant/abusive (viewing his son as now “less than perfect,” at least in terms of what he’d envisioned for a perfect child, and blaming Emilie’s sickness/death on it). Adrien’s modeling career is entirely just inspiration-sensationalism with a “hopeful ray of sunshine” public persona. it can even be important to cat noir, too! it’s still an escape from his home life and career, but it’s also a chance for adrien to show that he’s not as fragile as gabriel thinks. It’s his own way of having independence and autonomy and for once being someone that isn’t constantly pitied or made to pretend he’s a docile ray of sunshine constantly.

I’m also deeply autistic enough to say it could match with him being the holder of destruction; half of his life is centered around preserving him and, again, treating him like he’s made of glass. so why not give him the power to literally crack and shatter that glass? poetic cinema and all that. additionally it adds to both why he’s so unserious with his role as a superhero and why he values his partnership with ladybug so highly—he’s indulging in this new freedom while also recognizing that the partnership it comes with is about the only one where he’s genuinely treated as an equal and trusted to take his own part in something. that’s not to say I think all of his friends would instantly change personalities and baby him (especially not Nino) but let me tell you, even as someone who’s not physically disabled, the distinct feeling of being othered or unequal is there no matter how much support you have.

everybody knows this already but there’s just so much potential in everything that the writers don’t do reagghhhhhghhhh

[kageyamareijiraydark]

Why Kageyama Reiji (Ray Dark) is one of the best characters & villains 

Just a quick summary of his life, traumas and faults.

While some people might agree with the title of this post, I think there still are many ie fans who consider Kageyama Reiji to be a naturally evil man without scruples and morals who acts evil just for the sake of it. This is a very simplistic view which completely flattens the complexities of this character. It is true that IE is an anime with a young target audience, but there are also many dark details and sensitive issues that are worth focusing and reflecting on even and especially as teenagers or adults.

As regards Kageyama Reiji's childhood, I think we all know that Reiji has only negative memories of it. Reiji was of kindergarten age when he saw his beloved father, the great soccer player Kageyama Tougo, go from being a celebrity acclaimed by everyone to being the disappointment of an entire nation, which lead him to break down and abandon his family. Reiji saw his family shattered within a very short period of time, as his mother died around this time, thus leaving her son completely alone. All of Reiji’s memories are inextricably linked to the moment when he witnessed his father being not only humiliated on the football pitch, but also insulted and basically “verbally abused” by hundreds of “fans”, who were immediately ready to trade their “soccer idol” for another more talented one. (The scene where Reiji is among those “soccer fans” who were throwing stuff at Tougo is kinda heartbreaking)

From this moment on, a rapid decline of Kageyama family’s life into death and loneliness began (or simply continued). As i wrote earlier, Reiji gets abandoned by his parents, and it’s precisely this aspect that I’d like to focus on...  When Reiji gets arrested for the last, final time, Onigawara Gengorou (Gregory Smith), the man who spends the whole series investigating on Kageyama’s past, says that it’s impossible that Reiji was the man behind all the potentially criminal actions that have been taking place in the last 40 years (since the day the Inazuma Eleven’s bus got hijacked). If we take into account other explanations given by Onigawara himself, we understand that his doubts are well-founded, because at the time of the incident I just mentioned, Reiji was around ten or twelve years old. 

We all already know the identity of the man behind all of Reiji’s actions: Garshield (Zoolan). He was the one that approached Reiji when this latter was a merely traumatized, wounded, lonely child, instilling in him the desire for revenge, fuelling it by promising him all sort of stuff.

Of course, nothing and no one can justify the crimes to which Reiji actually contributed (thus getting his own hands dirty since he was a child while his puppet master - Garshield - was watching everything from afar and enjoying the money he got from his shady deeds). 

Now, I don’t know whether Reiji saw Garshield as a sort of “father figure” who would help him heal from all the pain through revenge, maybe he did see him that way at first, but regardless of this he indeed spent the most crucial years of his life with Garshield as his only adult figure of reference. Could he ever have become a functional adult?

When Reiji realizes he can no longer submit to Garshield’s orders, this latter calls him a mere pawns in his hands and, while referring to the incident that will took Reiji’s life away, he states that death is what you have to expect when you bite the had that fed you. I don’t know about other dubs, but in the Italian one Reiji often emphasises to Kidou the importance of knowing how to move the pawns as effectively as possible. Mistakes couldn’t be allowed. Spending an entire life to the dependencies of the only adult figure who raised you - a tyrannical figure with no morals - unfortunately led Reiji to repeat the same dysfunctional patterns, attitudes, behaviours he learnt from Garshield. All of this took effort, so much effort, because after all, as he said to Fidio (Paolo), he used to long for the light, but he ended up hating it because he no longer had the chance to lay his eyes on it, so he had no choice but to rely on the darkness in order to survive.

It is now necessary to talk about Reiji’s “greatest Creature”, for it was the encounter with Kidou that first shakes the walls around his heart; it was Kidou’s rebellion that instilled in him doubts, insecurities, fear… and that awakened the trauma of failure, humiliation, loss, abandonment. Reiji’s relationship with Kidou becomes obviously dysfunctional at some point, Reiji literally freaks out when Kidou decides to move away from him (thus breaking some sort of generational trauma cycle). Being abandoned again by someone he cared about was not part of his plans and it is something that tears him apart so deeply that he is willing to do anything (even to attempt to create a perfect copy of him through Demonio Strada / Giulio Acuto) to make Kidou come back to him. 

Another crucial moment in Kageyama’s “redemption arc” is the match between Orpheus and Inazuma Japan, which makes the above mentioned walls falter once and for all. And here some of the credit goes to Fidio. Why him? Why not Kidou? It actually makes sense that someone with a “similar” past as Reiji but who isn’t emotionally attached to him was able to grasp the reasons of his actions better than someone (Kidou) who, whether you like it or not, will forever be affectively attached to him.

And well, the rest is history. Reiji is forced to face with his darkest trauma while watching Fidio play soccer the way his father, Kageyama Tougo, used to play. He immediately loses his temper, yells at Fidio to stop playing like the man who destroyed his whole existence and made him hate soccer… and then breaks down. “What do you know about it?” he angrily asks Fidio “What do you know about the darkness I had to carry inside of me? You know nothing about it!” And it was true. No one could have ever imagined what he went through… Still, there was one last chance of salvation. The veil was torn, the mask fell, and tears started streaming down his face. He was finally ready to forgive his father, to look at the blue sky again for the first time in a long time, to embrace the light, to be reborn… in death. “The darkness is finally over” and so is his own life.

I’m almost done, I promise, I just wanted to highlight a parallelism which I find quite beautiful: the one between Reiji raising his eyes to the sky and being able to feel emotions again after being freed from the darkness and Rushe being able to see again thanks to Reiji himself, who paid the medical expenses of her eye surgery. “ Rushe, I want you to watch closely with your eyes… and feel with all of your senses the magnificence of soccer, the sport I have spent my whole life hating… but also loving. “ Reiji writes in the letter that Rushe will read only after his death. 

The final scene of episode 106 in which:

the news announces the death of Kageyama

Rushe reads the letter and expresses her wish to see Reiji asap to talk with him about soccer

and Jude, hearing the little girl’s words, bitterly sighs and clutches Reiji’s glasses in his hands  

is heartbreaking, almost gut-wrenching to say the least, especially if we take into consideration the fact that Kageyama had decided to take care of Rushe a long time before… he could no longer stand the idea that someone could get hurt because of the sport he most hated and loved at the same time (this makes us understand that he had long ago decided to turn his back on Garshield: his process of repentance had already begun), that’s why he paid for her eye surgery, visited her several times at the hospital, sent her letters… and eventually learnt to love her as if she was his daughter. All of this made him feel a bit relieved: “After all, by doing so you felt that your heart was little by little escaping from the darkness into which it had sunk, didn’t you?“ Nakata once said to him. But the guilt was still too much. The sins on his conscience were terribly heavy. He knew he did not deserve the gratitude, the light, the smiles of that little girl who so cheerfully talked to him about wanting to learn to play soccer from him and who so lovingly called him… uncle (おじさん).

[honestlyvan]

Babe, I'm so intrigued by the Crime Slime who would die before breaking character and the Furry Genius who is good at everything he does, tell me more about them

They make me SO UNWELL, BARBIE.

I'll try avoid turning this into an essay on both of them separately (I've done my due diligence introducing both of them over here), but I do need to discuss character and role a little bit, because the way Dendro is explicitly a roleplaying game contributes a lot to the relationship between Shu and Sechs.

Or, well, Dendro can be played as just an action dungeon crawler action game, and there are quite a few key cast members who are "ludo", but because of the intense fidelity of the world of Dendro, most people end up at least somewhat engaged with "the plot" ie. the politics of the world, even as just the backdrop for the game. Neither Shu nor Sechs are that hardcore, but both of their actions make more sense "in-character" than they do out of it. Shu Starling (as compared to Shuichi Mukudori) and Sechs Würfel (as compared to his unnamed player) are in conflict because of the context of the world surrounding them, and their roles in the story.

So, what are those roles? Shu, obviously, is one of the Big Three of Altar, one of their most powerful and decorated. All told, he seems like a bit of a wild card, genuinely just playing Dendro for fun, and emphasises the for-fun nature of his playing when discussing the game with other Masters. Altogether, Shu really seems to be playing Dendro as a form of light escapism, another go at a "normal" life -- he jokes about being shy, and before the beginning of the story, had in fact been extremely well hiding the identity of King of Destruction from the broader playerbase, not wanting to deal with the hassle of being chased around by challengers.

He's "a hero", yes, technically, but honestly it very much seems like Shu himself doesn't seem to really care for that designation, and is consistent about how he only really does things he wants to, and is largely unconcerned about what his reputation is like. And despite that, he's ended up involved in damn near every big incident in the kingdom since he began playing, being ultimately the kind of good-natured and kind person who doesn't like leaving people in a lurch if he can do something to help them.

Because despite being fate's favourite middle child, Shuichi Mukudori is... kind of just a dude? Like, he's a rich NEET who pretty much just exercises and plays video games and doesn't seem to have any greater aspirations than to have a good time -- frustrating his parents, sure, but not really causing trouble for anyone. At worst, Shu is a bit of a sneaky shithead, and seems to have some resistance towards being relied on by other people, but it never rises to the level of refusing to help out of spite, and his strong sense of ethics and general kindness are clearly very typical for him, as we see his little brother Reiji being largely unfazed by Shu's big-dealness, sort of shrugging and going "yeah, what I expected from you, bro"

In fact, I feel like Ray's generally high self-esteem further speaks well of Shu. He's attentive without ever being overprotective, and their shared disposition towards never allowing their doubts to stop them from trying being something Ray explicitly learned from Shu. Shu portrays himself as more avoidant and passive than he actually is, even his discomfort with people explicitly relying on him, to me, reads more as trying to avoid having a cooling effect on other people's efforts. He doesn't like complacency, in himself or in other people, and in general tends towards cultivating strong, positive relationships with everyone he interacts with. He is, for all he can be a bit opaque, generally in a good place in his life.

Sechs, in contrast, uh. Very much isn't. He is essentially a hostage of his own family -- adopted in to literally replace and take on the identity of their dead eldest son, and isolated from the outside world until he manages to either convincingly pass as that son, or maybe just until the family finds a wife for him to have an heir with. Even before going through a stranger literally dying to give him the life he's currently living, he didn't have many prospects, and as a result doesn't feel any greater attachment to his previous or his current identity, pretty much just seeing himself as a piece of meat for other people to use for their aspirations. It's very bleak, and it has understandably had a crushing effect on his sense of self-worth.

And while Sechs didn't really have a solid reason to roll a villain character, basically deciding on a whim to play one, his ability to choose and to pursue actions congruent with that choice is some of the only freedom he has had in his life. "Sechs Würfel" is the only identity he's ever had that is self-authored, the only thing he truly believes belongs to him. Problem is, he's so bad at figuring out what to actually do with the agency and freedom this new identity grants him that he hard-commits into the mechanical validation the game system gives him, so pretty much the only things that matter for Sechs are the "sins" he commits -- everything else, everything that demonstrates that he is, honestly, a bit sideways but ultimately good-natured, is relegated to non-actions that bear no relation to his "self".

Let me reiterate for clarity -- Sechs is neither a sadist nor a sociopath. My distinct impression is that just like Shu, he has a very strong innate sense of right and wrong, but any ability for him to express or act on that sense of right and wrong has been systematically abused out of him. In fact, it's a little unlucky how well "villainy" works out for Sechs -- he can make his decisions based, essentially, on inverse utilitarianism, looking to cause the maximum amount of harm to the maximum amount of people, and thus avoiding any cognitive dissonance between his moral intuition and his professed reasoning, letting him suspend the need to self-examine about why he's doing anything indefinitely.

Sechs even argues that being a villain makes it easier for him to be friends with "someone like" Shu, because it allows him to essentially reconfigure his morality on the fly to rules-lawyer opportunities for him to work with Shu towards a common goal. But deciding to live a life in Dendro where everything he does either takes things by force or cheat others out of them doesn't leave any space for him to just... have relationships, to be non-transactional or to show kindness back when its shown to him, without "breaking character", without wasting his opportunity for self-expression. It's the only language he speaks, so to speak.

(And incredibly luckily for Sechs, as far as the game is concerned, the only people he can "sin" against in a mechanically demonstrable way are tians -- because crimes against Masters don't count, he never has incentives to hurt any real people. After all, as far as anyone knows the tians are just extremely advanced AI NPCs... right? )

So, we have Shu who is characterised by his refusal to limit himself, using his personal freedom strictly within the limits of his own ethics, and we have Sechs who is almost entirely defined by his limitations, using other people's ethics as scaffolding to explore his personal freedom. It makes perfect sense for Sechs to literally never shut up about Shu, to be absolutely obsessed with a kind of wholeness of identity Sechs desperately desires for himself, too, to admire him and to feel envious and to be literally attracted to him like a wilting flower turning to the sun. Shu is the strongest possible scaffold for Sechs to measure his own actions against.

They really are well-matched... and they are diametrically opposed within the diegesis of the game world because of the roles their behaviour has created for them within the narrative of Dendro. Which, y'know, works great for Sechs who honestly probably needs to adhere to his prescribed identity, who is still just learning what to do with all of the freedom he's been denied all his life, and sucks for Shu, who really did not sign up to have a damn archenemy and really, truly, just wants to have fun.

And the situation is not helped by the fact that Sechs high-key doesn't know what the fuck he's feeling about Shu, either. The vibe is very "I don't know how to flirt with him, so he has to die". Sechs' concept of Shu as a person is an extension of the narrative role he has within their interactions with each other, as a challenge to be overcome, as the hero to strike down. And in the process, Sechs either loses sight or never realises in the first place that Shu just.... isn't playing a character and just is like that because he is like that.

Except... Shu is playing a character. Shu Starling is literally a character played by Shuichi Mukudori.

So, like. Shu clearly gets it, but he's not happy about it. I am extremely emotionally compromised about the circumstances around their duel in general, but one of the most striking things about it is how hurt Shu seems over the whole thing. Like, he's holding both of those feelings in his head at once, both embracing Sechs' telling of the story and his place in it (he literally calls the letter of challenge a "love letter") and also being frustrated because he thought he'd made it clear that whatever it is that is between them was something different.

Because the character he is playing, the level he is meeting Sechs at isn't Shu Starling, King of Destruction. It's also Shu Starling, ascended joke character, Shu Starling, excellent cook, Shu Starling, professional slacker. He's in a similar position as Sechs, he's performing an identity that he is not able to embody in real life where he's marked by his fame and talent. And at the time of their duel, Sechs clearly wasn't able to meet him on that level, as two people playing a game together, within a shared narrative, and Shu gets that and he's so annoyed by it, because he wants them to be friends.

Unlike Sechs, whose isolation is clear and unambigous in the text, Shu's isolation from having a normal life is more in the subtext. And unlike Sechs, who has to deal with his mental dissonance and whose struggle to live as a whole entire person within his assumed identity is front and center, Shu's needs are backgrounded, and he's not telling on himself.

It's so easy to read almost a tone of betrayal to the way their duel in volume 18 plays out, except Shu is explicit about the fact that he likes Sechs. You can practically feel the fond aggravation of Shu going "I'm right here, dummy, you can just ask" when Sechs is talking about struggling to understand him. Shu, truly, wants to see him again, and wants him to... get better. Become happier. Find himself, so he can actually meet Shu where he's at.

The chemistry these two have is frankly incredible. Sechs, already, is set up for an incredibly compelling journey of self-discovery through the power of having friends for once in his life, but I was a fan of Shu first, and thus I am completely weak in the face of someone seeing right through him, not understanding what they see, and Shu liking them enough to actually bother explaining himself.

I love a villain who is obsessed with their own villainy in contrast with the hero, I was pretty much always gonna be extremely unhinged about Sechs' very blatant crush on Shu, but the flavour is really contained in how flatly unintimidated by Sechs' obsession Shu is, how much he likes him despite that and even, maybe, because deep down Shu also just wants to be known and seen. Sometimes the stranger who only knows us through our roles knows us better than anyone else.

[red-velvet-0w0]

ok ok ok so I’ve heard you talk about your OCs but I don’t actually know anything about them so could you tell me about them?

:D

A chance to talk about my ocs!!!!!!!!

YIPEE!!!!

okay so

basicaly

theres a WHOLE lot of details i could get into but the basics of it is:

5 teenagers from a small town end up trapped in a time loop, though most of their memories get reset every loop, with a few exeptions (they keep the knowlege that they are in the time loop and the general knowlege of the relationships between each other, but cannot remember specifics of what happened)(they also each have a special thing that allows them to have some knowlege of what happened last time called a Memorabilia).

Ida Vidya: was a photographer from the school newspaper who dreamed of being a investigative journalist when she grew up. She is by far the most determined to figure out all of the mysteries in the town and escaping the loop. her memorabilia a disposable camera which stores 10 photos taken in the previous loop into the next loop

Jack Edmund-Kang: Is the son of the mayor and a sports player (though i havent fully decided what sport he did and its not really relevant). He has a lot of self worth issues and has taken it upon himself to protect everyone else from everything thats trying to kill them. His memorabilia is that he can remember all the blood and dead bodies hes seen in past loops and keeps any bodily changes through loops (ie: muscle growth, or scars. he has so so so so so many scars)

Jane Hare: a trans girl and aspiring writer. Shes pretty shy and has a fuck ton of anxiety and self hatred. I would go into more details but her story is pretty heavily tied to The Reflection so ill get to that later. she wakes up every morning with a limerick explaining what happened in the previous loop but with vague and cryptic wording

Amelia Augur: genderfluid cottagecore artist. she has a raven named Ray who she keeps as a pet. Ray keeps all the memories from previous loops but can only do so much to help due to being. you know. a bird

Blake Payne: angsty emo transmasc/nonbinary dude. has a neglectful mother and a lot of trauma. plays the drums. Hearing specific sounds can trigger memories from them from previous loops

as they start investigating and trying to figure out whats going on, however, they then realize that the situation isnt as simple as they seem

every loop the US government figures out something is going wrong and sends Special Agent Booker (CIA) to investigate the town and see whats going on. she doesnt keep her memories (at least at first some stuff goes down towards the end of the story) but comes into conflict with the children when they both are after the same thing.

As it turns out, Jacks father, Mayor Kang, is the leader secret underground society that worships and ancient magical artifact known as the Pentagramic Pocketwatch that he has been using to keep himself alive for centuries and was planning on using to revive his dead wife. It was stolen from them recently and they figure out that whoever has it is using it to trap them in a time loop. They realize that the kids are keeping some of their memories, and assume that they were the ones who stole the pocketwatch and begin hunting them down and trying to reclaim the pocketwatch.

Several minor gods have realized that the watch has been stolen and are trying to take it for themselves to become more powerful. among them: The Beast, god of the hunt and strength, The Mask, god of manipulation and trickery, The Reflection, god of self-perception and mirrors, and The Day, god of... days. The Beast has the least going on and is mostly just busy having vague toxic yaoi with the mayor and killing people. The Mask is just absolute worsties with Booker, and also really really hates Ida. its by far physicaly the weakest of all the gods but makes up for it by managing to constantly outsmart everyone. The Reflection ends up using Janes dysphoria as a tool to manipulate her into a weird abusive relationship where it forces her to work for it and help it get its hands on the pocketwatch (eventualy they "break up" and trap it inside of a hand mirror with The Masks help). The Day is just sorta there and nobody knows what its up to.

eventualy (im skipping past a lot) its revealed that The Day was the one who stole the pocketwatch because it dies every night and is reborn every day (fun paralels to how the time loop affects the kids) (this was set up earlier dont worry i just didnt have somewhere to put it in here so i didnt mention it) and is using the watch to turn back time right before it dies. they manage to get to it and convince it to give back the watch and allow time to progress again (again this is skipping over a lot). so the kids take it and are about to destroy it when out of nowhere The Mayor shows up and steals the pocketwatch before dissapearing to try to use it in a ritual to bring back his wife. However, the ritual nearly unravels the spacetime continuum and he comes to terms with her death and allows Jack to destroy the pocketwatch, killing him in the process

(this was a very quick summary, if you want more specific information on any part of this you can just send another ask. this is just sorta the very basics)

[beardedmrbean]

Hey Huey zoomer, well magical negeroes was a flopped, but those poor black actors, they were pointing out the racist roles they were given throughout their careers. Especially justice smith

Wait

Oh he was in that recent dnd movie, which I heard will be a cult classic soon

Oh he was also in the Jurassic World sequel

Waaaaait, I seen him before

Like in a certain pop culture milestone that made him a household name

Oh right

HE WAS THE STAR OF DETECTIVE PIKACHU

(He also biracial as he played Ryan Reynolds son in it)

Sorry it just yes Hollywood put a lot black actors (and everyone else especially if they were from a poor backgrounds)

Also the white people in the trailer…while I’m estranged from them. My little sister still see our mostly white stepfamily as family. And the white people they bitch about seem upper middle class

…who probably are descendants of those social Darwinists weirdos. Not saying they are as racist, but yeah Hollywood and a lot of it structure was form during social Darwinism and Jim Crow America and yes many black people groups found success in Hollywood during those rough times.

And not to mention most civil rights activists was trying to let working class black people piss in the same bathroom as a white person much less being the heads of Hollywood

This trailer resonated me and a lot of other “marginalized groups” than magical negros did

https://youtu.be/i0MbLCpYJPA?si=JztSsnHBw827_-DU

Sorry like a critic said, this is stick of dynamite, did someone probe my brain with the pigeonholing white liberals did to black writers?

I see you American fiction crew members

I shall buy the 4k or blu ray when it out as a toast

But sorry for ranting…you know I started my creative trend after talking to an Indian woman about Rowling weird lore about American Wizarding society. Which eventually lead me to learning about the “Queen” of New York City Glided Age

Sorry probably it because I’m a midwestern and in general a lot of famous people from here are what Gilded Age Queen would call new money IE Micheal Jackson, Walt Disney, and Henry.

Perhaps another anon, hell I just realize something even both Disney channel cartoon and Sitcom pointed out how different a magical society in America would be due to our melting pot culture.

glad to hear it flopped at least, and the racist roles they've been given, this was one of them and it's not like they didn't accept them this isn't the 1930's where you're under contract with a studio and have to make what they tell you to make.

Don't know justice smith, but I'll take your word for all that.

who probably are descendants of those social Darwinists weirdos. And not to mention most civil rights activists was trying to let working class black people piss in the same bathroom as a white person much less being the heads of Hollywood

Upper middle class people be like that ya, you hit a certain point on the income tree and things like race, gender, and sexuality start to matter less and less as you shift towards how can I make more money off of all of these people.

Not a hard and fast rule, but it seems to happen a lot. Segment from a Trump interview in the late 90's I think it was talking about guys who like guys, he's just like 'I'm happy for them, not my thing but more power to ya'

Oh this is delightful also feels like something certain members of the black community would call racist, educated well spoken black man tends to get called all manner of awful things, hardcore leftists are some of the worst about it too.

But sorry for ranting…you know I started my creative trend after talking to an Indian woman about Rowling weird lore about American Wizarding society. Which eventually lead me to learning about the “Queen” of New York City Glided Age Sorry probably it because I’m a midwestern and in general a lot of famous people from here are what Gilded Age Queen would call new money IE Micheal Jackson, Walt Disney, and Henry.

Mrs. Astor had the money and the pedigree to do that, not that it's right to look down on people but as folks go that would have the ability to do that she's pretty high on the list.

Cathy Bates did a wonderful job as "The Unsinkable" Molly Brown in the Titanic movie, split the difference between old and new money, her still being uncouth and what not.

Not Duck Dynasty level, but they don't actually care if they fit in or not, also I imagine a bunch of that is an act.

Perhaps another anon, hell I just realize something even both Disney channel cartoon and Sitcom pointed out how different a magical society in America would be due to our melting pot culture.

That and guns, post on here about the American exchange wizard at Hogwarts that casts Glock-19 or something like that.

Also I'm gonna nominate the Bass Pro Shop pyramid as our school location.

[wynsbackagain]

Things BHUS Did Better Than BHUK (IMO)

(Spoilers for both versions of Being Human.) This post isn't meant to start any kind of fandom war. It's just my biased opinions.

1: Aidan and Rebecca actually face consequences for Bernie being turned.

I remember watching that story arc in the original and thinking how Mitchell's decision to try and "save" Bernie made no sense given his stance on vampirism, and how it also made no sense that Bernie and his mom basically walked off into the sunset with no follow-up. Bernie would have likely ended up killing his mom and so on, and aside from vague implications, the choice never comes back on Mitchell.

In the US version, it of course crosses Aidan's mind to go that route, but he decides against it for the same reason he didn't save Cara. It is Rebecca who then turns Bernie in a misguided attempt to please Aidan, and while her stupidity tests my willing suspension of disbelief a little, what happens next actually makes more sense within the narrative.

Regardless of whether or not Bernie had actually killed those bullies, he was still going to be dangerous and difficult to manage. And while it was nasty trick Bishop pulled on Aidan, tricking him into killing what was essentially his and Rebecca's son, Aidan ended up making the right decision anyway.

2: Josh never cheats on Nora as a fully in-control, human. When his wolf slips up with another wolf in season 4, for one thing, HE wasn't in total control, and for another, he actually faced consequences for it. It was relevant to the narrative.

In the BBC version George is human when he has sex with Daisy. The scene served no purpose in the story and made George look like a giant *sshat. And once again, it was a bad decision that was given no consequences.

3: Ray doesn't attempt to SA Sally, only to have Josh say "I bet she loved it." (I would have just LOVED to see how Aidan would have responded to something like that though.)

4: Aidan's relationship with Sally is more satisfying than Mitchell's relationship with Annie. Not their FRIENDSHIP. Their relationship when they hook up. It also didn't involve Sally having to possess anyone to enjoy being with him.

5: Aidan doesn't really have a Box-Tunnle-moment in the main story, while we're supposed to be sympathizing with him. The closest thing I can think of to it was the two girls he fed to Henry. And even that isn't the same. Aidan was acting out of desperation and love, and it went as wrong as it did by accident. He didn't INTEND to kill them.

Mitchell and Daisy were acting out of vengeance and tribalism, and probably a little sadism; they committed a terrorist attack basically.

There were plenty of times Aidan made mistakes or got caught up in situations where he had no choice but to go along. IE: When he was working with Suren. But his slips-ups were always due to addiction, desperation, or love/loyalty. He never massacred a train full of innocent people all in one go for no real reason. To be clear, I'm not talking about his past, just about the events of the series.

6: (This one requires some setup.) I was going to say that Aidan got to move on as a spirit and be happy while Mitchell didn't. Apparently though, this isn't true. Annie is told sometime after everyone else is killed off, that "they are waiting" for her, implying that George, Nina and Mitchell have all gotten to move on. But this is one of the biggest problems I have with UK version: poorly handled departure of actors/characters from the cast.

If I'm not mistaken, Aidan Turner left to do The Hobbit, hence Mitchell being killed off. But due to the fact that Mitchell was my favorite character and I knew they were trying to replace EVERYBODY, I stopped watching the show after Mitchell was written out. Why did I stop? because very few shows can survive such a massive overhaul of the cast when it's already so well established. And I simply didn't care about the new people. And so I didn't know that sometime down the line it would be revealed, in seemingly vague terms, that things went good for the characters they killed off.

In the U.S. version, yes, the journey towards the ending was a little clumsy, but it was still immediately happy (albeit bitter-sweet), and there was no cheap attempt to keep the hit series going without its established characters.

And like I said, yeah, some of the details WERE poorly handled. But these things likely unfolded the way they did due to financial snags the production had hit probably around season 3. Had all things gone according to plan, there would have been 5 seasons, with a bigger budget, and things could have been better. But things happened, and everyone realized that if they had tried to squeeze out a 5th season under their current circumstances, it would have been bad. So they decided to go out "on a high note" while they had the ability. They DIDN'T try to stick around to milk a series they could no longer make a quality product out of. They didn't jerk their fanbase around.

So yeah, I missed a detail due to not having watched the full UK series. But I'm going to go ahead and blame the BBC for that, because once you get me to care about characters, killing them off and trying to replace them, expecting me to want to stick around for the new people, is just wrongheaded. And what I like about the US version is that they didn't do that.

[usagisbanexd]

+ SUPER SOLDIER SAILOR STARS #01 * _) _) >>C===3 :-* Kawaii Slash Lovers Collide Cosmic Paradise // Sailor Moon/Pokémon/Potterverse Altfic Crossover, CHAPTER 1.0.001

Fic. A conversation between earth and sun. she/her,mpreg!Helios. trans!Michiru.

1.0.001 EARH ie // THE SUN aCtUaLlY WEEPS, CURSED, BEATEN! BUT WHO STOPS THE THUNDER?

Clan. Satoshi's nipple. Ash's eye. Kasumi's tears river-bred, the Goldene her niece estranged leaping sentient to her nubile little missile breasts. Her sister's liquid eye watches her from the edge of the pool. Mamoru is borne in the arm of the seven daughters. Olympus carves her rain on the milkpink of his skin. Mamoru's eyes lull. The goddess gives her young another womb, her beautiful rolling hip the nippled kiss of an infinity in warrior-servitude.

          The Laprys abides. “I AM GOD,” she says to Misty Kasumi Watereye. Misty’s little body trembles.

          “Mama,” Mamoru says, his mouth lacquered in shitblack earth.

          “I am the seventh senshi,” says the skirt, and Haruka’s sword like a spine encases his lost rib.

          “Mom,” he says, and in the backs of his eyelids a wind shifts a pinpricked curtain showing deeper velvet to the children in the breast of his tuxedo.

          “I wish I could be, sweet child,” says Haruka, and his/her tender heart upon the apple of Earth’s hand washes the beauty of a river through the empty crevices of the pegasus in the crowned soles of his heels.

          “Are you my mother?” says the boy, and to Michiru he directs a flaccid plastic finger seeking God, the tentacle of an alien baby brought there to the foot of the bejeweled starry heathery throne. Michiru’s sweat, her arm, Haruka’s perfume, each offering comes before the black empty door of his serpent’s nostrils knocking without a sating air. Does he breathe?

          “From stars we bore you,” say his mothers the daughters. The goddess. Haruka. Michiru. Michiru. Haruka. In his arms an empty kingdom lifts itself from sand, and to a grovelling pix he is trembling making a carpet. He longs for walking; he longs one limb to climb the air and plant itself before its mirror yeshua.

          “Here is my womb, Mothers,” says the boy, and he holds the apple to her open palm, a womb given by time to the wombless apple. Knowing he has no guilt, no lovers, no ambulance: “Love for my ancestors makes no war on this planet.”

          “You love a phantom barely blessed,” says Michiru, and in her hair a star shines like silverene caught by barbs of a deoxygenated net drug razor-bred through her bosom into volatile blue fruition out of her skull. Women have skulls, and bigger hands than the sun.

          “I am my mothers’ son forever cursed,” weeps the emperor, and from the earth he draws four daggers in the bloodshit beneath the bladed beds of his fingernails.

          “Why do you not want my body?” says the sun through the mirror in his eye, and the men and women dance, and the men and women die, and Mamoru lies waking with his head in his heart, sorely given. Give it back.

          “I am.”

          “Haru-chan.”

          “Fags die of AIDS,” whispers Haruka, and her costume epaulets unwhisper in jangling. She jangles not, but sways, and in her shaking arm the king’s head loses with the earth he bears which bares him, and into earth he becomes something like a traveling glaive moving southward through a divine cavity and out of a tuba’s throat. She feeds him a metapod.

          “I cannot see you, my love,” says the uncrying sun, for mercury’s mist does turn her the sun to a strangled vapor which eats her rays and icens the earth, unbeautiful quicksilver, huge-dicked, unshafted, unloved, unkind, nearly unwomaned like Beryl Medea before her, seen through glass eyes the visor bleeps and tells the Medea ‘Quiet, quiet,’ and the love between earth and Mercury pales, and the love between the sun and the mercury persists in tango, the mercury as yet unencumbered, and Ami the girl a slave to her wrinkles waiting like tumors under stretched skin, the sun a cold cuckold. The sinner learneth quickly at the foot of warmed over sunlight, mercury embezzles, Hermes the thief, and then the god Mercury and his bare egg the empty bombed out planet cooking in its atmosphere are stolen and brought before the emperor. The emperor waits, writing in his eyelids to Mercury the mother of his monstrous bastards.

          Galaxia smirks, her fingers tapering together at their lacquered points.

          “We lied,” says the sun.

          “I love you,” says the king, but in his tongue a stagnant ghost his mother’s husking womb lies bled in iron chains, and the sun sings with a dancing tongue from her heart’s enslaved wrist: “Read not with your mother.” She dances, and her infinite penis like a flower blooms outward down the rain and lands upon his face a sperm to die at his lip and become the heart of ancient tecton.

          “I long for you to kiss and hold me tight,” says Mamoru.

          “I am the sun’s second daughter. Why do you lie when from the mirror of my heart I see all things blessed by the light stolen from my temple’s heart my temple’s moon my holy temple’s silver womb I am dying to think I am the sun I bleed through waves like liquid smoke I speak.”

          “Slow,” says God.

          “You are no god,” says the sun.

          “Last night you did desire it,” says the emperor. He takes his eye from the sun’s bright blade and gives to an eternity hoping for a world without women.

          “I should like to see your nakedness engorged.”

          “Through fabric.”

          “Here is my bourne to be beloved.”

          The sun:

          “Why do you lie?

          What happens when the sun grows sick and dies?”

          “My mother calls.”

          Haruka speaks Michiru’s cunt like a clipper from a grave’s stolen handedness.

          “I have lied,” says Elios. “I have wished to see your nakedness.”

          “I am naked in my tux.”

          “You love a child. I am your brother.”

          “I love the sun,” says Mamoru to cleavage in his mother’s shirt, and in Haruka’s eye a green branch grows like the fingers of a snake.

          “What child am I?” says Elios.

          “You love my daughter,” says the man and moon. “You aren’t my child. I have a wife. You are an interloper.”

          “I have chosen you before the moon, my dayborn babe.”

          “You have chosen the moon and wept the light from the sun’s entangling iris.”

          “I have chosen my sister my children to raise. I have longed for her to come into my house, the house of our children, and she has strayed to take my young in the weapons of a bird’s hands and bear him to the silver throne of our mother’s cold and bountiful palace.”

          “I die,” says the moon. “And

          “Let her speak,” says the sun and moon, Usagi to the emperor.

          “I have never stopped speaking.”

          “Nor then do I,” say sun and earth.

          “I love you. I have no wife.”

          “Who is that woman you died for?”

          “A cruel falsehood, my king the sun.”

          “Thou hollows my womb with the dry venom of your uncircumcision,” says the sun, and the moon with her clumsy bladed tongue does stumble after in mercury.

          “My Lord, who has circumcised the sun?”

          “Men who dare not love my form, who shed their manhood for the darkness inside of a woman’s weakness.”

          “I am man. We are men.”

          “You have a thousand breasted slaves who turn from the love of one another to be your protectors. None are worthy of the womb I have given you, and yet you seek to make another with my beauty hidden between her legs. I am not an ornament. Speak English.

          “You are a falsemade fool,” says the sun. “Scheherazade sleeps by day. I long to come into your bed, fair king. I long to steal from you the secret of a night. I sleep and then I wake. You battle bravely from inside the coxcomb. You have hidden riddles in my womb. Why have I longed for destitution?”

          “You are my slave,” says Mamoru the sun, and through his eye a bleeding start takes the ocean from the galloping insecure and seasons it with Chinese wisdom like a curse which takes from him his being and gives to him another mask, like the masks he so prefers over the eye of the sun.

          “I mask myself in daylight,” say Mamoru, and in his reason the seven sisters bear him toward his tomb.

          “Your arms cannot reach me. I am the sun, empress over all.”

          “I am a slave.”

          “You are a nihilist. What would happen should I extinguish myself?”

          “You should not die. You should become a dwarf and live nine lives.”

          “All of eternity loves you,” says Elios, and from the sun a ladder forms like a slide in golden and eraser. A little girl climbs an ascent that marvels the earth, the pink of her waxen hair a crown given her by mothers who hate the sun and bury in themselves her beauty with talismans that claim for each a greater love than the unmanly sun who loves with the face unseen for its beauty, the boys who bathe at the mouth of the wood.

          “He still lies prostrate,” says the seventh senshi, and in her arms her infinite children are born in beautiful garments sewn by Taiwanese slaves. All the world falls prostrate at her tomb. She is Galactica, mother and sister more golden than a sun which never shows her face.

          “All is matter,” says the emperor, whose crown falls from his head and crowns the earth her daughter mother. He wonders.

          “I should like to feel within myself the thing within you, the children possessed by your ransom,” says the sun. “I am but a servant of the men and women toiling as beautiful as ants beside the pointed ghostly tendril of my invisible foot. I long to be my brother Apollo, but I am only one sun, and this little girl will climb my hair and conquer me with a castle built by your love.”

          “You sing me sick,” says the earth. “I am her soldier.”

          “I have no mother,” says the sun.

          “You are born from a cauldron of mothers,” says the crownless empty world.

          “You are married to the woman who crawls upon your back.”

          “I am but one man, baby,” says the earth. “I long to be the sun.”

          “I have found my empire. Once you hid me in a temple in your breast and I prayed alone to my mirror to love the people.

          “I should like no secrets,” says the sun again. “I should like to be your Elios, and you to be my Mamoru.”

          “I am Mamoru to another girl.”

          “I have made you sick and wounded.”

          “You have acted unfairly.”

          “I hear only the echo of your throat’s potent womb. They should bear you to your tomb and you should go with sick with a female’s potent love.”

          “I should go out in the wilderness.”

          “You are borne sick upon a canopy of Womyn.”

          “I must.” Empire. Drowning. Sun’s never drowned child rides down the slide into the arms of her father, or perhaps back to the moon.

          “That is my daughter,” says earth and sun, and in Moon's arm she shows her ransomed daggers like the philosopher’s wife, his destroyer. Should he love the sun, a woman baptized like her mother Elios in the eye of a Trojan candle? Should he love the girl who loves summers and her mother’s secret womb?

          “I have much to think about. In space,” says the king.

          “Close your eyes and dream of Shingo,” says the sun, and she puts down her spears and gives to her rays the children in her roiling crust. “I am a dreamer like your mother. Is your sleep empty since the accident when true mothers abandoned the fair babe inside you? Close your eyes and dream of Shingo.”

          “You are too old for emperors.”

          “Is my kiss not gentle light upon the manly hilltop vantage of your cheek? I have wanted always from within the prayer in my holies to make it so, but many years have separated me from the kisses of my own mouth.”

          “Go to a mirror,” says the king.

          But what do his mothers say?

          “Go away,” says Haruka, and her skirt the torned crown heaves like inward canopies from the gilt chalk marbular chute of her thigh. She trembles with ancient thunder, her forgotten father roiling inside his mother’s stomach in the anger of a waking babe presaging regurgitation.

          “And” And “what of Michiru?” says the sun, whose kiss is a ghost upon his master’s cheek. She wishes him to walk unaccompanied through the wood like the babe she remembers on the morning of his parents’ death, to see him from beneath the canopy of leaves like a gem hidden upon the cushion of the earth. Earth’s emperor. Earth’s crowning glory. She weeps ghost gold in her brain, the furnacemind behind her glaring visage, she weeps for him and her and them and her daughters and their palemade moondust limbs, their lotions with a thousand eyes like raiment torn from her rays with the wicked whipped nailheads of a stepsister’s ravaging prevengeance. “Ransom my love. Ransom and extinguish. ‘Eros, I shall plunge.’”

          “Call upon your Eros,” says the king through the erotic throat of his mother the second-headed Haruka.

          “He/she lies in my womb,” says Helios, man-made titan exposed like clockwires from flesh peeled through a surgery of yesterdays’ tomorrows’ wasted lights. Do they follow?

          “Why is she afraid to leave her womb?” Elios again.

          “I have not afeared you. I am afraid of your children.”

          “You think I am no sun.”

          “Once you were the moon.”

          “You should walk with me in moonlight and watch me pour her flesh upon my head. I say again, take up thy mantle and walk with me while I am sun. At the moon’s rest I shall bare my legs for you and become the princess you have loved. I am mirror yeshua.”

          “I long for princesses by day.”

          “You are weary. Walk.”

          “My mother binds my legs.”

          “You are limpid in her arms, erectile.”

          “You have mistaken your favor for curse.”

          “Thou hast stolen thy mother’s tongue and consumed her. I am not in love with such a woman.”

          “Thou art both man and woman.”

          “I travel from the star. Ganymede, resting on Jupiter’s bosom, longs to behold the only man. Empire. Stars fall. Shall I among Solomon’s daughters not behold the face of the holy emperor who has sworn his love to me?”

          “I am no emperor. I am Mamoru.” He leaps, and tearlessly he dreams of weeping the sad sorrows he has hardened as ice from Neptune’s creeping berth inside the wicked empty barrel of his double-breasted chest. “I long for women’s arms.”

          “I have women’s arms,” says the sun. “Why dost thou not believe?”

          “They have conquered me,” he says, “and denied me women’s arms.”

          “I can see your chains,” says Elios the sun. “I am no king, gods, see this womb I cup within my hands, see the birds which spring from it everlasting. See this womb is empty and this hollowing heart is full of love for kings without countries and men who leave their families for new flocks.”

          “I have left my family,” thinks Endymion with liar’s whispering tendrils in his mind. “I am unfit to lead.”

          “Thou hast let thy kingdom fall, and the wide arch knows now where it belongs.”

          “You have led me astray,” says the king, taking up his crown and stumbling back into the arms of his mother fathers fathers mothers mother. Haruka holds the chain, Michiru the needle, together the thread he thinks is everlasting.

          “Curse not your progeny, I will still shine. I seek to”

          “TAKEUCHI,” says Haruka slavemistress of foolwomyn and knaves, and from the entrails of her axesaw a womb splits like the puking monstrous thing of beauty he/she so covets and ejaculates its reaching skullbones into the wasteland of her pie-juice crusted thigh.

          “Baby,” says the sun, Helios, Elios, Sailorsol bereft of seed, and in her ungloved glistenin’ white hand she rushes light to the wound at Haruka’s thigh. And in her eye she plants a flower. “I have birthed a thousand women. My womb shall birth a thousand more. I love the earth. I know not my sister moon. She hides from me in castles like brittle teeth arranged against the meat the king has proffered her. You, bastard Mother, know not your children. Why have you arranged a weapon to strike a son whose crown is daughters, wishing then and now to dance in the eyes of the emperor wide-ranged? Ranging men travel through thy breasts in search of my eye. The sky itself is my face, I am queening preening, I am liquid beauty built atop their arms that one king wandering might see for the trees himself he knows to hold me.”

          Beryl draws from the shit beneath her nail a wicked kanji to enslave the sun, and she the sun carves out her tongue abortion starts again. “Leave, monster, or I shall send my phantom future husband against you as a boreal wind that answers to none but me. Boreas, arise,” says the sun.

          “Mirror,” says Mamoru, and in his bloodblue eye an earth attaches to a sea and pulls itself from the mirror’s surface into a kiss. He kisses his reflection, lips parched. Michiru holds him to her bosom. Does he yet say nothing?

          ‘I,’ says Mamoru to the sun. The sun is his dungeon master. Mamoru is her DJ. Far off in the future, once they lose the war, Jimin sings Angel on a Spotify playlist. The next song is the best song, says Mamo to the sun. She says she loves him. She is tired, tired of playlists. Her eternal spinning fire plays on. She has a penis. A thousand penises, insemina every tongue.

          Beryl speaks a liquid lullaby: “ICE CRYSTAL FORTRESS!!” she cries. Nothing happens. The shit caked beneath her nails breaks off and falls to earth in a ribbon like some faggot designed her a wedding dress, and in its cyclone’s spinning cloaked monkey virus catastrophizzy she crumples into dissolution. No fag designs her dresses, she is robed in ugliness. She is robed in the purple of a storebought queen with baskets on her hip. She is robed in middle class. The sun the muse sings on.

          “Stop,” says Elios, a light from inside the sun.

          “I have stored you underground,” says sunrays, and children know it’s Sunrays even when it’s sunrays. And ancient Ami knows it too, distant as she is, a queen of Quasimodo’s coronet, beautiful only in the bureau of Limpdicky, her bishop-prick, the sacred home of her esquire the crooked knight hurtled out heaven. That is not Venus. All rush to the side of the emperor, and the sun shines on through branches crowding out the birdways on the boulevard, kissing his skin pagewhite, kissing him through bone, kissing him as they kiss him with the kisses belonging to the earth, all its pox & pocks, each of her swells, each of his eyes, kisses which put water to his lips.

          “Beryl!” says Ami. “MERCURY FORTRESS MOON,” says Ami, forgetting the loss of her divinity. “BECOMING EARTH THROUGH SOME SORT OF SUBTERFUGE!!”

          The sun aborts her child upon the seam of the emperor’s navel, a slimy earththing earthling Ami bore for want of being empress of their seminal. In her starlight crux above the earth, Galaxia smirks.

          “Murder, Ami, murder,” says Galaxia, and in her fist a silver starseed flutters like a bird trapped beneath the greater wing.

          The earth does little. A fluttering breeze, some eunuch woman in far-off Japan playing him songs with trembling fingertips, all her whispers blaring. Emperors listen. Emperors sleep. DJs decide. The sun sings on with a voiceless reed, a throatless voice, deep from the golden hollow of her guts, the slave’s first and latest dirge, and on her back the cosmos swim rapunzel, white colors of a million one stars a swollen hard stone’s sack of baggage. Ami draws it on, the tumurous vagina apen red with anger at the emperor and his lover.

          Mamoru dies.

          The Laprys from her festering salton slosh surfaces, Satoshi clinging bone-dry to her neck. In her black eightball's eye the sun stands reflected, empty like a bag of rice, black like burnt porridge, emitting nothing but a saturate glaze. Mamoru clings to Satoshi's waist, his long arm wrapped secure as a seatbelt, his titan skeleton's huge hand unearthed like a fossil, preserved in the gold wax ivory seal which mummifies all emperor's tombs, each finger a marble pillar swayed by Qur'anic winds. "Eugheugh," says Satoshi, her burdened eyes diving inward to the nub of her nose, and Mamoru heaves hot air on the back of her neck. To be continued. . . .

[red-velvet-0w0]

SO

the story takes place in the small town of Watchton, Massachusets, which is a normal average small american town that is normal and definitely totaly has no secret societies or cults or magical artifacts of ancient power.

Suddenly, 5 teenagers wake up one day stuck inside of a time loop. The rules of the time loop are kinda complicated but: all five of them forget everything every loop, however, they are able to remember the basics of the situation they are in (ie: they might remember that they are in a time loop, what their relationship is with one another, who all is in the town), but are unable to remember any of the specifics that have happened in all of the previous loops. they also each have 1 special way that they are able to carry over some form of information from previous loops called a Memorabilia.

the five are:

(this drawing is a bit old and im not very happy with it, i need to redraw them at some point) (like i made like everybody way too skinny in this. especialy blake i did my boy so dirty here)

Ida Vidya (center): Was a photographer at the school newspaper and dreamed of being an investigative journalist when she grew up. She is by far the one who is most determined to uncover all of the mysteries going on and solve every puzzle. She is definitely the one with the red string and the conspiricy board. Her memorabilia is a disposable camera which allows her to take 10 pictures that then carry over to the next loop. (She/Her, Aromantic Pansexual)

Jack Edmund-Kang (center right): Was the son of The Mayor and played on a sports team (I have not decided what sport he played, nor do I really care). He had a lot of self worth issues before the time loop started, and they only really got worse from there. His memorabilia is that he can remember all the blood hes seen, as well as having it so that his body is able to keep changes between loops, meaning that he can get stronger and learn new skills through muscle memory, but also keeps all the scars from every injury hes ever gotten. hes assigned himself as the "protector" of the group, and is often the one fighting whatever threat theyve run into, or sacrificing himself to save the others. theres a lot more to him but it gets really dark really fast so were not getting into it quite yet. (He/Him, Bisexual)

Jane Hare (center left): she was an aspiring poet and author who is effectively anxiety incarnate. She has a lot going on and is probably up there with Jack as one of the most traumatized characters, but her story is so heavily tied with The Reflection that I cant really discuss much about her until we get to that. Her memorabilia is that she wakes up every morning with a cryptic limerick going over what happened in the previous loop (She/Her (transfem), Lesbian)

Blake Payne (right): traumatized drummer with mommy issues. they have a knife and a lot of anger issues and tend to work along with Jack as the main muscle of the group. Theyre memorabilia is that he can remember specific memories from previous loops when triggered by specific sounds. (They/He (trans), Gay)

Amelia Augur (left): Cottagecore artist with an interest in the spooky and supernatural. They have a raven named Ray that shes friends with who helps her out. Ray is their memorabilia and keeps all the memories from previous loops, but is only so helpful by nature of being a bird. (Genderfluid, though mostly She or They, Lesbian)

anyways there is a LOT more (i havent even touched on any of the other characters, much less any of the magical elements), but i want to make sure that a) i dont overwhelm you with information and b) nothing in here doesnt make any sense/requires clarification

(also if you do want me to continue, should i tell it in chronological order (ie, explain the plot to you and only mention details as soon as they show up in the plot), or simply explain all the information and characters and then explain the plot after?)

please infodump at me

[incorrect-dying-light-quotes]

5 and 12 also :^) (crane--here)

5. who is your favorite character and why?

ok obv my favorite is rais and i am very attached to him but i can't really tell you why i even got attached to him in the first place. hes just so goddamn scrunkly hes like snoogly boogly hes my bestie bae booby beembo boogle bumbo blimple bingo and thats about the best way for me to put it

waltz is second fav character for the same reason <3 except hes also like better than rais. sorry rais

12. favorite hc for a ship, character, etc.

i have so many headcanons and ive heard so many headcanons that im not sure i can pick a favorite, so a few (lighthearted ones) off the top of my head:

- rais favorite animal being snakes and him having an innate connection to them will never not be both funny and very sweet

- trans karim <3

- nonbinary rais <3

- crane with tourette's <3

- karim having a big ass tortie cat named godzilla

- tahir's best friend as a child being his pet rabbit

- crane having a younger sister

- waltz letting his wife name their cat tango because she thought itd be funny and he just wants her to be happy

- ace spec waltz <3

- pretty much every disability hc i have bc i cant see a character and not make them disabled (im disabled) (i have so many disability/menthol illness headcanons to put in this post do u want me to male another one for just that)

- i hc aiden is short. like really short and small

- camden accidentally taming three bolters is rly funny and also cute in the same way rais and their snakes r cute

[deartouya]

HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS — HAWKS

no matter how rough the patrol, keigo always knows he has people who love him to greet him at home. i.e. you and your son greeting keigo when he comes home from patrol.

★ pairing: hawks x afab!reader (biological child, they/them used)

★ word count: 1.4k

★ content: fluff, kid fic, established relationship, children (oc son kaito, around 3-4 years old), food/eating mention, use of petnames (dove/ie, birdie, angel), a nauseating amount of fluff.

i saw a panel about hawks coming home to an empty apartment and it made me sad ;-; so i impulse wrote this. have this soft bird dad in an attempt to make everyone love keigo and doubles as me fighting for my hawks moot right <3

It’s been raining periodically all day — all week actually. Heavy clouds and dark skies shaped miserable conditions for patrol. Conditions made worse by how uneventful they are, filled with petty criminals and runaway pets. Keigo wastes nearly his entire lunch perched on top of an office building glaring at a pair of pigeons who’d tucked themselves in the of a patio; dry and warm.

Keigo’s always despised the rain. Water soaking his wings, weighing them down, curling the ends and matting the down of them. His hatred for the weather only grew when he knew you and Kaito were at home, swaddled in the warmth of your apartment and working through the lingerings of a cold.

He’d sent you a text a little after your own lunch, a pitiful picture of him far too close up hiding behind a Miruko billboard. His hair wet and clinging to his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

You gave him very little sympathy. You'd answered with a photo of you and Kaito in the kitchen wearing matching fluffy robes and holding mugs of hot chocolate.

He keeps his collar up against his neck, burrowing his face into the fluff of it. It smells like you, detergent and perfume clinging to the fabric from when he’d tucked it over your shoulders the day before.

Keigo finds himself watching the clock the closer his patrol’s end becomes, using the awning of a coffee shop as an umbrella. It’s odd, he thinks, how quickly he melted into his — domesticity. It happened slowly, without him even realizing it had until you were already moving in. Until he’d started counting the minutes until he was home again.

When six finally does hit, Keigo’s fighting off a smile, shoving his phone back into the damp pockets of his jacket, and taking off for your apartment.

He used to check-in at the agency first before returning home. He'd finish up whatever paperwork was created throughout his shift and utilise the oversized showers which were perpetually empty. Now, he always found himself rushing to get back — even if it meant earlier hours to do the paperwork from the day before.

So it’s also expected of him. The ease with which he accepted you — your change, love. He’s spent years longing for something a little simpler, softer, kinder. Keigo’s never been someone to take things slowly and he loved no differently.

The apartment — one you’d helped him pick — is quiet when he pushes the door open, peeling off his overcoat and heavy boots, “I'm home!”

He barely has both shoes tucked under the entry table when he hears laughing, small and light. Your answer comes as he rounds into the living room, “welcome back!”

The couch is gone. Or it’s covered at least. Obscured by large throw blankets propped over the dining room chairs and spilling over with pillows and soft-looking throws. The TV’s on too, playing a manta ray documentary and bracketed by patterned cushions.

Kaito’s golden eyes, softened echoes of Keigo’s, round in excitement and he nearly trips over a sea-turtle printed blanket in his haste to get to him, “daddy!”

Keigo makes an exaggerated sound, a huffed little oof, when Kaito collides with him and his tiny arms tangle around his legs. His pudgy cheek smushes into Keigo’s thigh and his fists curl into the fabric of his pants.

“Kaito!” Keigo echoes the boys’ excitement, smoothing his bangs from his forehead as Kaito giggles. He chases his hand and the little plumage of red on his back ruffles.

Both of their attention shifts when you finally detangle yourself from the couch, moving to cup the softness of Keigo’s cheeks with warm palms. Your thumbs brush over the bones before warm lips connect with his forehead. He huffs a soft laugh when you continue the kisses, dotting them over the freckles coating bridge of his nose, the divots of his dimples, the apples of his cheeks.

“Aw, did’ya miss me?”

“Mhm, ‘course I did,” you answer, combing through his bangs as he ducks to Kaito, “always do.”

Your affection is repeated when Keigo finally pries Kaito from his leg, hoisting the boy into his arms and settling him on his hip. Kaito’s grin broadens, nuzzling his cheek against Keigo’s and pressing a messy kiss on his brow bone.

“Saw the fight on tv, birdie,” your voice is quiet — reflectively, like any louder it’ll shatter the intimate little bubble, the warmth — as you trace his features with your eyes. No injuries.

Keigo leans in to knock his forehead against yours softly before he grins at you, “did I look cool?”

“Aww, of course you did!” His eyes narrow, your tone playful as you run your fingers along Kaito’s ribs, “rigghhhtt after you got your butt handed to you.” Kaito giggles softly, nestling into the crook of Keigo’s arm to escape your fingers.

“You wound me, dove — what, did you two spend the whole time celebrating my pain?” His free hand fists over the fabric covering his heart when you hum and Kaito lets out a happy ‘yep!’ “I can’t believe you two!”

“But you looked so cool!”

It’s immediate, the way Keigo’s entire being brightens. His eyes narrow in a smile and wings puff up behind him as he nuzzles his cheek against Kaito’s, turning to you with a faux accusing glare, “at least one of you loves me.”

A soft blurb from the stove pulls you away from them, knocking your forehead affectionately against Keigo’s this time before moving to lower the heat and continue your previous stirring.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” you hum, feeling a soft cheek squish into the side of your neck and a chin hook over the other side, Keigo’s free arm winding around your waist.

“Ooo, you’re an angel, dovie,” Keigo’s arm tightens around you, lips brushing your temple, “what’d ya make?”

“Chicken noodle,” you reply cheerily, turning to wind your arms around his waist. “Kaito and I just got over that cold, we should make sure we’re getting all our fluids, isn’t that right?” Kaito ruffles at your cooing, leaning in to tap the point of his nose against your own.

“Mmm, sounds amazing, angel,” he presses a soft kiss to the round of your cheek, “I didn’t eat lunch — I’m starving.”

“Y’know just because I forget to pack you something doesn’t mean you get to just skip eating,” your chastising falls on deaf ears as he watches you finish off the soup, ladling it into tall mugs. “You have to take care of yourself, Kei.”

“Awww, c’mon — you take care of me plenty! I was totally fine. Drank some coffee and everything.”

He quiets at your glare, jutting out his lip when Kaito laughs, “ooo, you’re in trouble!”

You move into the living room to eat, all three of you nestled in the plush nest you’d helped Kaito make, mugs of soup warm between your palms as you watch the ending of another documentary.

Kaito falls asleep first, bundled up on one end of the sectional snoring softly — a habit picked up from Keigo.

“I’m really glad you’re okay.” Your fingers find the red and gold bead bracelet around his wrist, fraying and poorly strung together courtesy Kaito, “it looked rough.”

You’re propped up against the arm of the couch now, both of Keigo’s wings sprawled over you and dragging against the carpet. He huffs, propping his chin against your chest, “aww, you know I can’t get taken out that easily.”

His voice is playful but you know he means it. He always does. So you smooth a hand through his curls. “You better,” pinning him with a teasing glare, “it’s not too late to get a divorce.”

Keigo laughs, wiping his smile into your shoulder and humming contentedly when your fingers thread through his hair. Your other hand smooths down his back, brushing through the down at the base of his left-wing. It flutters minutely underneath your touch and he presses himself closer.

“Like you’d ever want rid of me,” his tease is undermined by the tone, cooed and full of adoration. You can’t help the smile, shuffling down the couch so your lips can connect with his. It's tender, slow and you hope he knows that you meant it, your worry for his health. The way he responds, enthusiastic and through a grin, tells you he does.

Keigo’s ear settles over your heart, arms wrapped around you and fingers rubbing soothing circles into your hip bones. His wings tuck fully around you, overwhelming himself with you — the gentle puffs of your breath, the beat of your heart, the rising of your chest. This is nice, he thinks. Slowing down, being content.

[kiame-sama]

Could I possibly request (28 years) the first few weeks/months of Silvas darling being taken by him? Maybe even this first time they had sex?

That is all in the first part of 28 years.

I am, however, going to write what some of that small bit of time between Silva leaving his darling's care and having his darling kidnapped (ie. The only time Silva masturbated in his life were those few days in between).

Warnings; yandere, stalking, masturbation, nsfw, young adult Silva (18-22), temperamental yandere, lewd behavior near a church, 28 years,

~~~~~~~~

Moving sheets of white fluttered in the wind, casting an almost otherworldly glow as they caught the rays of the sun. The soft rustle of leaves in the trees did well to mask other sounds on the mild day.

An angel was busy putting out sheets to dry on a clothesline, pinning them up and making sure they caught the gentle wind and warm sunlight. A modest long skirted dress covered far too much of this angel's skin, leaving so much more unseen or unknown. It should be expected, she did work as an apprentice in a church, after all. Modesty was the whole point of any clothes worn by those who lived or worked in the abbey.

Bright blue eyes trailed after the dutiful woman as their owner sat concealed in the upper branches of a tree with the best view. Firm muscles pulled taut in their crouched position as the man panted softly. His white mane of hair invisible in the dense foliage around him, his perverse actions remaining equally unseen.

The man was growling and grunting softly, his engorged cock held tightly in his rough hand as he pulled and yanked almost harshly on the appendage. His other hand cupping and lightly squeezing his heavy balls, the stimulation only adding to his pleasure. His fast breaths hissed between his bared teeth, sharp gaze locked on the soft rear of the angel who continued to hang the washing out to dry, unaware of the beast that watched from the trees.

Silva fought to keep his eyes open despite the bliss that flowed through his veins, only able to imagine how warm and wet that soft body must be and how desperately he wanted to bury himself in it. Phantom memories of gentle touches and soft hands caressing his wounds made him throb in need, having never felt such a truly gentle touch in his life. He was used to pain being the driving force in all interactions of his life, finding himself craving the soft touch of more than just those hands on his overheated and needy body. How soft could that angel be when mewling and whining beneath him as he indulges savagely in that soft figure, watching his solid cock spear into her soft hole.

Fuck he was so close!

He bit back his pleasured noises, knowing he wanted to stay concealed and not willing to reveal himself just yet. Each light squeeze he gave his cock only seemed to encourage more blood to flow to the engorged body part, veins popping from the skin as they strained to keep up with demand. All it took from there was the slightest slip of that angel's dress, the shoulder falling down to reveal such a teasing amount of flesh and even showing the beginning curve of her shapely breasts, he was cumming hard and each spurt of fluid painted the leaves on the branch he knelt on white.

"Fuck..!" He breathed, panting softly as he slowly came down from that high, needing to avert his gaze so that angel would not make him hard again, "what have you done to me? You've ruined me..."

Silva sighed, zipping himself back into his pants and moving back through the trees to return to his home, Kukuroo mountain. He had watched that lovely woman for only a day now, having recently left her care. Even when he made it home he longed for that touch, to feel that soft flesh beneath his fingers.

"Master Silva, Master Zeno would like to speak to-"

"Fuck off," Silva growled, passing the butler without another glance in their direction, "if he wants to talk, he knows where to find me."

It didn't take long for his father to seek him out as he sat in his room, looking at his phone which he had used to take photos of that angel of his. Zeno entered the room with an annoyed look, wondering just what it could be that had his typically well-trained son acting like a caged animal towards everyone.

"Explain yourself." "There's nothing to explain, old man." "Boy, you use that tone with me again and I will end our lineage here and now." "Try it."

Zeno debated on ending the mouthy brat he called his son when he noticed the screen of the younger man's phone, a candid shot of a (h/c) woman with soft (e/c) doe eyes. Realization dawned on Zeno as he finally caught that missing piece to why his son was behaving in such a way. He must have found his beloved and is grappling with his intense need, much as his patriarchal family members had for generations before him. Zeno could now see that Silva was acting like any male in a rut would; aggressive, pining, funneling his sexual frustration into aggression towards anyone who wasn't the object of his affections.

"And here I believed you were moody over that useless woman they tried to give us. Clean up your things and move them to a better suited suite." "What the hell are you on about?" "You want her, right? You're going to need somewhere to keep her and her things. I will arrange for her to be collected and brought here." "... When?" "As soon as you agree to stop being unbearable. You'll get to have her as much as you want whenever you want, so drop this newfound rebellious streak and she will be brought here for you."

"... Very well. I will tell you where she is."

[nobodyfamousposts]

Ya know, I truly wonder how long Hawk Moth rein would long if a character crossoved there. Like, I get it every single ml character is dumb, but would the crossovers also be affected? I'm pretty sure anyone with more than one brain cell can easily tell Marinette a way to deal with him. Like... the wish, since we don't really know the drawbacks and she can just wish for everything to be as Gabriel "wishes" (ie. if his wife isn't in coma, there's no plot), thus she can have her LIFE back.

As much as I want to argue it, Miraculous is sadly a show where everything is dumbed down and also made some combination of both overpowered and nerfed in order to make it "work" while also keeping the plot at a standstill whereas most other shows and stories play their characters and settings straight and have progression.

In order to make any level of crossover work without completely overwhelming or outclassing Miraculous or otherwise solving all of their problems for them and risk showing them up, people seem to do some mixture of amping up the competency and setup of the Miraculous side to make them better than how they're portrayed in canon and dumbing down the other side to make them fit in with Miraculous so they aren't complete game-breakers for the world and the whole Hawk Moth conflict.

Thor: Hello, young warriors! I am Thor, God of Thunder! Let me call my all-seeing ally, Heimdall, to help you find your foe so I can smack him around with my mighty hammer.

Doctor Strange: Hello. I'm Doctor Strange, the Sorcerer Supreme. Let me create a portal to your enemy and use my Time Stone to find the best way of defeating him.

Sailor Moon: Hello, we're the Sailor Senshi. Sailor Mercury can use her magical computer to find Hawk Moth's base and we can defeat him with the combined elemental power of the planets.

Superman: Sure, I can help. I can use my X-ray vision to search over Paris for any underground lairs and then use my super strength and ability to fly and near god-like abilities to drop him off at the police station.

Batman: I'm Batman. I can investigate Hawk Moth's identity by using the EXACT species of butterfly he's been using to transform people and pulling up records of who in the area has at any point made a purchase of said butterflies or just check out any strange building schematics for your city to see who has built a secret lair in the last twenty years and then break into his home to catch him off guard.

Joker: We're the Phantom Thieves. Give a bit while we check out Paris's version of the Metaverse where we can locate Hawk Moth's literal shadow and cause him to have a change of heart!

Static Shock: I'm Static Shock and this is my partner, Gear. He can use his backpack and super smarts to go over all footage of the akumas from various security cams in Paris over the past year and triangulate where they're coming from. Then he can take over Hawk Moth's security system and turn it against him without warning while we sneak in and I can zap him.

Robin: Hello, we're the Teen Titans. We have Cyborg, who can also check Paris's security cams to triangulate where the butterflies are coming from, as well as Raven, who is an empath and can use her powers to try to locate Hawk Moth and then transport us all to him so we can take him down.

Danny Phantom: Hello. I am Danny Phantom. I can fly as well as go invisible and intangible, so I can search the city over for this Hawk Moth and then literally just pluck the Miraculous off him before he knows it. I also have a possession ability that may or may not work on akumas and Hawk Moth himself that would allow me to find him and make him turn himself in that way.

Future Trunks: Hello, I'm Trunks Briefs and I am from the future. So I can tell you with absolute certainty that Gabriel Agreste is Hawk Moth. He's also going to force his son's girlfriend to break up with him so he can akumatize her and will accidentally result in the complete destruction of Paris and the moon. (Where were you on THAT ONE, BUNNIX?)

Dipper: Hello, I'm Dipper Pines. I have no powers, but I do have more than two functioning brain cells so I can suggest that maybe you use one of those various other incredibly overpowered Miraculous you have to just try and find out who Hawk Moth is.

Ladybug: You mean I can cheat?

All: YES!

Hawk Moth: Oh snapples.

[chaseatinydream]

sleazy seonghwa who sneezes (i) || p.sh (atz)

➳ pairing: reader x park seonghwa (ateez)

➳ word count: 7146

➳ genre: badboy au; fluff

➳ synopsis: by the intervention of fate (namely Choi San), you see a different side to the school’s resident bad boy that you weren’t aware existed.

>>>

Park Seonghwa is, decidedly, what most of the school population would call a bad boy.

With his jet black lip piercing and dyed blonde hair that is clearly in rebellion against every dress code in school, he’s exactly the sort of boy your parents warn you against. The black leather jacket he wears in place of his uniform tie and blazer doesn’t really help his image at all, and you’re sure you’ve seen him step into school at precisely twelve in the afternoon from the window of your classroom, long after lessons have started.

You’ve known Seonghwa for a long time, since elementary school, back in the days when his hair was still its natural shade of soft ebony and his lips curved up in a soft smile instead of the thin, sharp line it does now. With silent eyes you’ve observed him over the years, watching as the death of his mother struck him as hard as a speeding car and doing a million times the damage, witnessing his transformation from the boy with the cute, candy like smile to the young man with hard, cold eyes and even steelier fists.

A few years, your heart broke for him as you watched him turn away from the light and walk into the shadows without a backwards glance, casting his life away into a hopeless abyss. But as time passed, the memory of that young, lost boy reaching out for his mother’s hand faded, replaced by bruised and bleeding knuckles, split lips and cold eyes.

You had stopped keeping track of how many piercings he’d gotten when you couldn’t count them on your fingers anymore.

Students whisper about him behind closed doors every time he passes them in the corridor, citing unknown sources and rumours about smoking, gang fights, drugs, the usual deal. Girls chatter mindlessly about his good looks, he’s strikingly handsome, you have to admit, but his arctic gaze is enough to keep them at least five feet away. No one dares to cross him, not even the teachers and school authority, and honestly, it’s a miracle he’s still even in this school.

He’s part of a circle of friends the school calls ATEEZ. Their leader, Kim Hongjoong, has kept his mullet for the last three years of high school, completely ignoring the repeated warnings that the school gives him, because who dares to touch him anyway as the eldest son of one of the richest men in Korea? Some you know by face, some by name, but you’ve never met, much less talked to any of them before. Instead, you keep your distance, not wanting to be mixed up in their troubles when they come roaring into school with jet black motorbikes, smirks and bruised fists.

It’s been exactly six years since Seonghwa’s mother passed, and you’re walking to school in the morning. Your earbuds are plugged in, the radio’s on and you’re just listening mindlessly to anything that comes over the station, scrolling through your Instagram feed. Oh. San is considering adopting his third stray cat, the ‘vote yes or no’ option beneath his story.

You click ‘no’, your best friend already has two stray cats and a Shiba Inu in his house, and Shiber is terrified of the felines. It’s a miracle how Shiber even got used to Darong and Puchi, but you doubt that he’ll get used to yet another stray invading his personal territory.

Turning and entering the back gate, you’re stepping across the grounds to your classroom block when your phone suddenly pings with a flurry notifications.

It can only be one person.

[Green Mountain] how could u not let me adopt yobu hes gonna be so sad u know TT

[Green Mountain] retribution on you and your kids and your grandkids and your great grandkids

[Green Mountain] why are we even friends

You roll your eyes, feet crunching on the dry leaves under the soles of your shoes as you type out a reply.

[You] What’s the point of asking for my opinion if you’ve already named him and adopted him San

You’re nearing the back of the school building when you hear a sniffing sound. You pause in your tracks for a moment, wondering if someone is crying from the stress of the exams that are coming in a week, before a soft achoo reaches your ears.

You barely have time to be surprised before the little sneeze is followed by a rapid series of more, each sounding more adorable to your ears than the ones before. There’s another sniffle and a sneeze, and you can’t help your lips curving up in a smile. Perhaps spending too much time around San has made you soft, but you wouldn’t trade him for the world.

You fish out a handkerchief from your pocket, since it’s the first day of the week, you haven’t used it yet. The person behind the noise must have gotten a cold from the chilly autumn weather, so you think they might appreciate the gesture. Stepping up the stairs to your classroom block, you turn the corner around the building with your handkerchief outstretched and a gentle smile already in place.

“Hey, I heard you were sneezing so I thought you might want this...” Your voice trails off as your eyes widen, seeing the infamous Park Seonghwa leaning against the wall, hand over his mouth and nose, your own shock mirrored on his face.

For a moment, the two of you simply stare at each other in stunned silence.

You’ve always admired him in the same way people appreciate statues in art museums, from afar, studying each and every feature but never quite understanding the full story behind the carved jawline, the sculpted nose, the mysterious dark eyes. But this is the first time you’re seeing him up close in the dappled morning rays, someone so far away and untouchable, and you see the flaws that mar what you had once thought was near perfect skin, a bruise at the corner of his mouth, a scrape on his cheekbone, the white scar across his left eyebrow.

His handsome features pinch into a wary scowl when he sees you, straightening up his originally relaxed position against the wall. You’re a little intimidated by his height as he towers over you by at least a head, giving you a dark glare. “Get out of my sight. I don’t need your help-” The words are cut off by a massive sneeze that sends him burying his face in his hands, before he starts hacking furiously, alternating between adorable sneezes and baby-like coughs.

A snort escapes you before you can stop it and he actually pauses to give you a murderous look, right before he goes back to sneezing.

Oh my god, you think in your panic induced haze, he’s going to kill you to stop rumours of his childlike sneeze from spreading around the school.

You fight down the urge to laugh in this terrifying situation, instead focusing on the predicament you’re in. You’re trapped between a rock and a hard place, right before a person with one of the most feared and sordid reputations in the entire school. Give him the handkerchief and risk his anger, or leave without lending him a hand and still perhaps bring his wrath down upon you?

In the end, you simply do what you had set out to do in the first place.

“Here!” You practically shout in his face, trying to muster as much courage as possible so your voice doesn’t tremble, but it betrays you anyway in spite of your efforts. Thrusting the white handkerchief into his hands, you do some sort of awkward bow before the idea can run through your mind fully and your face turns tomato red in embarrassment. “I hope you get better soon!”

And then you spin on your heel and dash into the classroom block before you can die from shame of it all.

“Hey, wait-” Seonghwa calls after you, but you’re already gone, leaving nothing but your white handkerchief in his hand.

“You’re late today.” San remarks in a surprised voice when you slide into the seat next to his, panting for air from your little dash to class.

“I was lending someone a handkerchief. And you’re early.” You turn to the window, making a big show of searching the sky. “I don’t see any pigs, falling or flying… so I must be dreaming.”

“Well, I had to come early to school so my chauffeur could fetch Yobu back to the mansion for me.” Your best friend remarks with a shrug, and a silly, goofy smile crosses his face for a moment at the thought of the adorable one eared ragdoll cat. “I couldn’t leave him waiting here in the cold.”

“I swear the reason all these cats relate so much to you is because of this.” You tug at the thick leather choker resting against his throat, fingers brushing the cool metal of the round, silver studs on it. “If we just add a bell to this, you might as well be an actual cat, Sanie.”

Your best friend merely grins, cocking his head to the side as he looks at you expectantly. “And I suppose that’s…?”

Laughing, you pull a small cardboard box from your school bag, opening it and presenting it to San proudly. It’s a small silver bell, one that reminds you of one on a cat’s collar. The moment you had laid eyes on it at the mall, you had known it would be perfect for him. You gesture for his arm and he stretches it out to you with an amused smile on his face, your fingers fiddling with the friendship bracelet on his wrist. Undoing the clasp, you slide the silver piece onto the bracelet with nimble fingers where it rests next to the Siamese cat charm, the bell making a soft jingling sound.

“Ooh, pretty!” San inspects it with shining eyes, smiling broadly at you. He then takes out his own box, a red jewelry affair with the name of some expensive brand stamped on the lid in bright silver. Your breath catches in your throat as you catch a glimpse of it, the box is probably worth more than the entire charm you bought San.

“Sanie, you know I don’t like it when you buy me stuff like that…”

Your best friend pauses in opening the box, mouth turning down in a sad frown as he looks at you with earnest eyes. “But I want to do it for you. You’re my best friend, and I want to spend my money on you to show you how important you are to me.” You waver at his words, heart sinking as you feel like you’re making use of him for his wealth. But you know San is determined, and besides, he’s already bought the charm, so you sigh and try to fix him with a stern gaze.

“This is the last time, alright?”

San’s face cheers up in a split second.

“Alright!” He whoops, putting the charm of a Norwegian Forest Cat on your bracelet. It feels heavy, probably made of silver and custom made to boot. It’s been your tradition for the last two years of school. Every day, on the first day of a new semester, the two of you had promised to buy each other a charm to celebrate your friendship. Somehow, every charm the two of you had bought for you had ended up being some breed of cat, so you suppose that you’ve broken tradition for the first time today by giving him a bell instead. When San fixes the clasp of your bracelet, he grins at you and pats you on the head.

“There, that wasn’t so difficult, was it?”

You kick him in the shin. “I said this is the last time, you goof. Don’t go getting any ideas.”

San pouts at you, shaking his head so that his dark brown hair falls into his eyes, showing off the red streaks in them. Your eyes widen in alarm and smack him on the arm as he lounges back in his chair casually, placing his booted feet on the table. “I thought I told you to get rid of those last week before school started!”

Your best friend whistles cheerily, feigning ignorance. “I promised nothing.”

San, for all the adorableness he holds, is too, part of ATEEZ. A certified bad boy, a definite troublemaker. Everything on him, from the designer white shirt with scrawled designs all over it to the multiple silver piercings in his ears to the striking red coat he has slung over his chair, screams rebel in response to every dress code in existence. San rebels, but he at least does it with style.

On the first day of school when the two of you been assigned to seats next to each other in class, the very first thing he’d done upon meeting you was to rip off his tie and declare to you loudly about how the colour scheme of the tie was absolutely hideous when matched with the shade of the blazer. He had then proceeded to rant to you all about the material of the blazer and the undershirt, and you don’t think you’ve seen him in uniform since that day.

Well, you suppose he knows what he’s talking about, considering that he’s the heir to one of the biggest fashion conglomerates in the country. Besides, you’ve stolen that red coat more times you can count on cold days and it often spends the night over at your house when San makes you wear it home.

“What kind of name for a cat is Yobu, though?” You ask San, shaking your head at him as the teacher walks into the classroom. He simply grins at you, tweaking one of his many earrings with amusement.

“A friend of mine chose it-” He begins to explain excitedly, but then your teacher clears her throat in front of the two of you hesitantly and San’s expression darkens, looking up to glance at her as if she’s a pesky fly he’d like to smack. The teacher’s face drains of colour.

“What is it, Ms Kim?” His voice is dripping with venom and you feel your face flush at his bad attitude. You tug on his ear and he yelps in pain, turning back to pout at you.

“Ow! Why are you bullying me?” San sulks like a little kid and you can’t help but swat at his arm. The teacher, drawing a little courage from seeing San being steamrolled into submission by you, pipes up.

“Mr Choi… you’re not supposed to be sitting there-”

That’s her mistake.

San’s eyes turn glacial as he turns to face her slowly, gazing down his nose at her imperiously, dangerously like a cobra waiting to strike. San isn’t loud and quick to anger like some of his other friends are, but he’s no less dangerous with that vicious, poisonous mind of his. The teacher falls silent immediately, none of the other students willing to help her out lest they get on his bad side.

“I’ve said it at the beginning of term and I’ll say it again.” San enunciates every word slowly and precisely, his dark gaze never wavering from the teacher’s eyes. You can almost imagine it, a monstrous serpent like aura looming behind your best friend, frightening everyone before him into submission. You’ve never been on the receiving end of his gaze, but you hear people describing the experience to be akin to staring down the barrel of a gun. “I’m sitting besides her and no one else. Did you not hear me the first time?”

“Mr Choi, I’m just doing my job-”

“Do. You. Understand.”

His last words are nothing like a question, instead carrying a more mocking tone. The threat is like a loaded gun, the bullet unseen and hidden in the chambers of the weapon, but the finger is already resting on the trigger, eager to fire. Your teacher pales at his words, fingers trembling against her binder.

You feel bad for her, so you gently tug at San’s sleeve, pulling his razor sharp gaze away from your teacher. “Hey, San, I’m not going anywhere. How about you start thinking about ways we can get Shiber to warm up to Yobu when we go over to your house later while I have lessons?”

His face brightens right away, the icy look melting right off like snow in the summer at the thought of Yobu and Shiber playing together. “Of course! Why didn’t I think about that?” Pulling a piece of paper from your bag, he swipes one of the pens off your table and begins jotting down ideas and names of cat treats. His attention off the teacher, the entire classroom heaves a simultaneous sigh of relief.

Your teacher takes five minutes to calm her racing heart before the lesson begins.

Seonghwa sits at the bench at the school gates, waiting for the rest of his friends.

Golden and red leaves spiral through the air, caught and tossed around by the autumn winds as they flutter to the ground like clipped butterfly wings. They fall to the ground, devoid of the green freshness of spring, dead and utterly lifeless. He remembers the limp hand of his mother, her fair skin drenched in crimson lifeblood, the drunk driver having crashed right into the side of his mother’s car as she returned home from buying him supper. She’d died on the spot, right before any the ambulances and paramedics arrived.

His fingers curl around the dry maple leaves, crushing them and scattering them with the wind. He hates the autumn. All it brings is death and pain.

“Hyung!”

He’s pulled from his thoughts and turns around to see three of the five 99’ liners stepping out of the school gates, arms slung over each other’s shoulders. A smile crosses his face briefly. No matter how terrifying of an image he might have to others, he has a soft spot for the rest of the boys in ATEEZ. All of them have stuck together through thick and thin, supporting each other no matter the struggle, Wooyoung through his addiction and Jongho through his fits of violent rage, Hongjoong with his familial conflicts at home and so much more. They’re like family to him, he briefly wonders, before his eyes darken at the thought of his drunken father back in the house they share.

He forces the thought from his mind, instead looking upon his friends’ faces, frowning in confusion.

“Why are you smiling so much, Sanie?”

The boy in question merely grins wider, tucking his hands into his pockets as he dodges a kick Wooyoung aims at him. “Wooyoungie tripped on Mingi’s shoe and fell down the stairs earlier.”

Mingi stifles a laugh at Wooyoung’s flat expression.

The sleeves of San’s white shirt are rolled up, showing the cat charm bracelet dangling from his wrist. The silver bits and bobs usually tinkle and jingle, letting everyone in the area that San is coming, but today, the sound seems to be especially prominent. Seonghwa’s eyes rake over the charms, counting five, six, seven…

He spots a silver cat bell dangling at the end.

“Did you get a new charm, San?” Seonghwa asks, curious and San nods proudly, preening in front of his hyung. The bell jingles once more, as if showing off to Seonghwa.

“She got it for me!” He smiles widely, stuffing his hand back into his pocket. San doesn’t need to say who it is for Seonghwa to know. Aside from ATEEZ, San has no friends… except a mysterious girl that San doesn’t want mixed up in their business.

“Can’t have Wooyoung seducing her from me.” He’d joked once, to Wooyoung’s not so amused amusement.

But Seonghwa can understand why San wouldn’t want his friend to be associated with them. From the way San speaks about her ever so often, she seems to be a quiet, mild tempered girl who focuses hard on her studies and can even miraculously convince San to revise for the upcoming exams with her in the school library. Being related to them in any way could stain her pristine reputation, make it difficult for her to attain any student leadership positions in the school that were vital to a portfolio, or even make any friends in general.

Honestly, Seonghwa doesn’t know why she would stick with San.

But San is happy when he speaks about her. He’s clearly fond of her, he’d even dragged all of them to search for a suitable charm for her birthday gift.

Then a ticklish feeling rises in his nose and he pulls the handkerchief from his pocket, sneezing into it. He doesn’t want to admit it, but the piece of white cloth has saved him so many trips to the convenience store nearby to buy a pack of tissue. Looking down on it, he sighs as he looks the handkerchief over. It’s a piece of plain white cloth, without embellishment or embroidery, nothing outstanding to set it apart from others physically, but unique, because it was there for him when he needed it. Just like the girl who’d given it to him, he thinks to himself with another sigh, wondering how exactly he’s going to find her and return the handkerchief to her.

He doesn’t remember much about how she looks, having been trying to stop himself from sneezing in front of her when she’d literally thrown the handkerchief in his face and shouted at him to get better, before she dashed away faster than Usain Bolt on steroids.

Honestly, who still uses handkerchiefs in this day and age?

“Did you catch a cold, hyung?” Ever perceptive Wooyoung asks curiously, before spotting the handkerchief in his hand. “I didn’t know you used handkerchiefs, though.”

For some reason, something in his voice is completely judgemental and even though Seonghwa feels the same, he can’t help but feel like he needs to defend the girl who gave it to him, at least. Then he catches himself, frowning. Wooyoung’s too curious for his own good, tell him a little and the he’ll have her name, class, blood type, age, address, favourite food down to a tee tomorrow.

Besides, Seonghwa wants to do this by himself.

So Seonghwa shakes his head.

“It’s not mine. A girl gave it to me in the morning, but I don’t know who it was. I owe her a word of thanks, at least.”

Mingi raises an eyebrow, teeth fiddling with the silver piercing on his lower left lip absentmindedly. “Someone approached you, hyung?’ He sounds as confused as Seonghwa feels.

Curious, San glances over at the piece of white cloth for a moment, staring blankly. Then something in his dark eyes glint minutely, the side of his lip quirking up in amusement. Is it fate?

A thought forms and the cogs of his mind start turning, building upon that wisp of a thought until it turns into an idea, then a plan. Seonghwa catches sight of the little smirk on San’s face and frowns in confusion, opening his mouth to ask the younger boy exactly what he’s thinking. He’s a little afraid when San smiles like that. It usually means he’s up to no good.

“San, what is it?”

But San shrugs playfully, eyes shining with glee.

“Oh, it’s absolutely nothing, hyung.”

Seonghwa’s been searching for you for a week now.

For the first time, he actually attends school regularly even if it isn’t to go to class. Standing at the main gate at the crack of dawn, his eyes rake the faces of the students who walk into school every morning. All of them give him a wide berth, wearing the same terrified, yet befuddled expressions, similarly confused as why to the one of school’s bad boys would actually be in the school compound before the bell rings.

Regularly, at that.

About fifteen minutes before the bell rings, he hears the familiar thrum of an engine and raises his head to glance at the driveway outside. Just as he does, a sleek black Jaguar purrs into sight, coming to a stop. It’s presence still causes the same ripple of excitement and anticipation as it did three years ago, and Seonghwa can see all the students in the front yard of the school whispering behind their hands as they discuss the boy inside, wondering whether he’s going to abide by the school rules for once.

The driver, dressed impeccably as ever in a black, custom tailored suit and white gloves, crosses over to the passenger’s side and opens the door for the person inside with a deep bow.

“Young master.”

Kim Hongjoong, eldest son to the CEO of one of the most powerful business empires in Korea and probably the world, steps out with a yawn, rubbing at his eyes as if he’s still half asleep. Then he turns to the chauffeur, who Seonghwa recognises now as Hongjoong’s personal assistant and bodyguard, and gives him a nod.

“Thank you, Jaebeom.”

Jaebeom falters momentarily, head rising a little as he looks at his master. “Young master, you know your father does not like it when you thank me… I am a mere household servant-”

“Who gives a damn what that old fart wants?” Hongjoong grabs his bag from the backseat, adjusting the silver beads and tags in his mullet. “I’ll see you later, Jae.”

The chauffeur can’t exactly argue with his employer, so he merely sighs a little and nods, bowing once more. “As you wish, young master.”

Seonghwa watches quietly as the car zips off down the street.

“Still here, Mars?” His best friend steps up next to him, bag casually slung over one shoulder as he quirks a brow, showing off the eyebrow slit at the side. Seonghwa lets his face relax into a small smile, adjusting the collar of his maroon turtleneck.

“Yeah.”

Hongjoong merely sighs in exasperation, waving his phone in hand. “You know, like I told you at the beginning of all this nonsense, I could have just given Jaebeom a ring and you would have your mystery girl’s identity in a folder on your lap within ten minutes. It would have included handphone number, siblings, hospital records and financial accounts and you wouldn’t be standing here like some lovesick goof every morning.”

Seonghwa doesn’t take any offense to his friend’s barbed words, knowing they stem from genuine concern for him. In fact, Hongjoong only uses his glib tongue and charisma when it comes to charming people into doing things that he wants. He’s not quite as skilled a manipulator as Wooyoung, who can puppet any person like a marionette on strings, but then again few are.

Seonghwa prefers it when Hongjoong takes on this tone with him. It’s more casual, more informal and Seonghwa doesn’t feel like he’s at risk of being played. When he speaks like that, he’s not the heir of the Kim Corporation, Kim Hongjoong, but instead he’s just Hongjoong, Seonghwa’s best friend.

“You know why I want to do this myself.” Seonghwa says softly and Hongjoong pauses a moment, because he does. He understands all too well just having everything presented to him on a silver platter with a golden spoon, not having to put in effort for any of it. Things lose their value that way, and he knows Seonghwa is determined not to let this happen.

Hongjoong merely sighs as he glances at the white handkerchief in Seonghwa’s hand.

“Well, I doubt anyone’s coming in now, it’s pretty late.” He tells Seonghwa, who nods and tucks the neatly folded cloth in his pocket. “Let’s get to class.”

San calls you at approximately five in the morning. On a Saturday morning, in fact.

Groaning as you roll over in your bed, you reach for your phone, the silver cat charms clicking against the screen as you put it to your ear. You’re thinking of a hundred and one ways to slowly butcher him and rip him into tiny little pieces when his cheerful voice comes over the phone. “Hey, my dear best friend, what are you doing up so early in the morning?”

A growl tears from your throat. “It’s 5:16 AM, Choi San. If you don’t have a good reason for waking me up at this time of the morning I’m coming over to your house, I’m going to rip out your throat and I’m going to steal Shiber from you.”

A horrified squeal comes over the phone. “Don’t steal Shiber!”

You almost sigh at how he completely missed out the ‘I’m going to tear your throat out’ bit, but you pinch the bridge of your nose in exasperation, sitting up on your bed as the blanket falls to your lap. “What is it, San? If you tell me now that you want to watch reruns of the Golden Girls at this time of the morning, I’m going to strangle you in your sleep.”

“Oooh, kinky.” San whistles and you groan, smacking your head against the bedside table. Murder does really seem to be a tempting option now.

“Choi San I swear if you do not give me a good reason right now I’m going back to sleep-” You begin but then San cuts in more quickly than a swerving F1 racer.

“No no no, please don’t! Well, you see, one of the maids back at my house just told me that Yobu fell sick and needs to see a vet, but none of them are open at this time of the morning.”

Your jaw drops at the news, heart thundering in your chest. “I can’t believe you wasted all my time talking nonsense when Yobu was ill! What are we going to do, San?” You’re honestly worried for that sweet mannered ragdoll cat, fingers drumming anxiously against the table when San continues.

“But I have a friend knows about veterinary medicine since he works part time at a vet, so could you please bring Yobu to him? I’ve already told him that you’re coming.”

Something strikes you as odd and your eyes narrow suspiciously. “San… why can’t you just bring Yobu there yourself?”

“Ahh…” You hear your best friend falter a little over the phone and from the sheepish tone in his voice, he’s up to something again. You’re about to question him when you suddenly realise that there’s the thumping of the bass in the background, synthesizers screaming and the sound of drunken singing. Your heart falls.

“You’re in a club, aren’t you?”

San pauses uncomfortably. You’ve made it clear multiple times that you don’t approve of his partying lifestyle, but you’ve also told him that it’s his life and he needs to make choices for himself. “Yeah… “ His voice is soft over the phone, but then it tries to cheer you up a little. “I swear I didn’t even drink a lot! I’m not even drunk right now! I just came for a bit of booze and the atmosphere.”

At that, your smile softens a little. You know that San is desperately trying to change his ways, but it’s only the beginning, the first step of a long journey. “I know. Be back before sunrise, okay? Stay safe and don’t make me worry about you.”

You can hear San’s smile over the phone. “I promise. Now then, I’m leaving our child in your hands, alright?”

You’ve barely agreed when the call ends, the beeping of the phone all that’s left of your conversation.

You’re standing outside an apartment building at seven.

Yobu lets out a little mrrow from the basket under your arm and you stroke him on the head gently, checking the address on your phone. He looks perfectly fine to you, but then again you’re no doctor. Glancing at the block number and the unit, you’re indeed at San’s friend’s house. What friend, you have no idea, but you really need to get Yobu checked up as fast as possible.

Stepping up to the door, you press the bell once.

There’s an electronic warble and some shifting coming from behind the closed door. “Wait a moment, please-” You hear and you frown, the voice sounds male and vaguely familiar, as if you’ve heard it before. But before you can remember where, the door swings open to reveal the resident of the house.

You nearly drop Yobu in your shock.

You’re so going to murder San in his sleep.

Because it’s Park Seonghwa standing there, blonde hair mussed from sleep, dressed in a soft grey sweater and sweats, staring back at you with equally wide eyes. No leather jacket, no silver chains around his neck, simple black piercings in his ears. To your surprise, he looks soft as a kitten, not at all like that bad boy image you’re so used to seeing in school.

You glance down at his feet. He’s wearing freaking Gundam cartoon themed socks.

“Mrrow…” Yobu meows plaintively from his basket, as if demanding for the two of you to stop staring at each other and get a move on. That’s enough to jerk Seonghwa out of his shock and he opens the door a bit wider to let you in. “Uhh, please come in.”

You do as you’re told, slipping your shoes off at the door and stepping inside. The house is surprisingly bare, a pair of folded mattresses against against the wall and a lumpy couch in the corner. There’s a vet’s bag on the floor, stethoscope already laid out. You glance to the shelf at to your left as you set Yobu down on the ground, there’s a picture of a woman who you assume to be Seonghwa’s mother, and next to that is a collection of assembled Gundam models.

It seems as if someone is a fan.

You’re briefly afraid if something bad is going to happen to you when Park Seonghwa closes the door behind you, but as much as San enjoys playing pranks on you, he’s never one to put you in danger. Seonghwa sit down before you, cross legged, looking painfully awkward for the first time you’ve seen him.

“Umm… Hi…” He greets you softly and you stiffen to attention, Yobu curling in your arms and you hesitantly stroke the tiny cat gently. “So… Yobu is sick?”

Your eyes widen a little in surprise. “You know Yobu?”

Seonghwa nods slowly. “Yeah well… I was the one who named him.” He holds out his hands for the grey ragdoll, looking at you hesitantly while you’re still staring at him in shock from this unexpected information. His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip nervously, dragging across the black piercing there. “May I?’

You somehow regain enough cognitive function to place Yobu into his arms, the small feline nosing into Seonghwa’s chest and he lets out a gentle laugh, nuzzling the kitten with his nose. “Let’s see what’s wrong with you, little guy.”

Your mind is still reeling from all of… this. From what you know, Park Seonghwa is a mysterious bad boy who is a member of a terrifying group called ATEEZ that your best friend also happens to be part of. But even after knowing San for three years, he’s never really exposed you to any of his other friends, so you still steer clear of them whenever you see them in school.

But this Park Seonghwa before you is looking at the tiny kitten like it holds the moon and stars in its tiny paws, humming a soft tune under his breath as he reaches for his stethoscope. He’s nothing like the Park Seonghwa you’re familiar with, bruised fingers gentle as he checks over Yobu for any physical ailments, cooing to the cat in a sweet voice when it attempts to squirm out of his arms occasionally. You usually never say this… but you’re quite mindblown.

“There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with him.” Seonghwa muses after a while, setting his tools down. You’re jerked out of your stunned stupor, letting out a witty ‘eh?’ as he puts Yobu down on the ground, the kitten batting at his sweater sleeve with its paws.

Seonghwa tugs his lip piercing between his teeth and for a second, you’re raising your eyes to heaven to ask exactly what you have done to deserve this punishment, but then he’s speaking once more. “I don’t see anything wrong with Yobu… He seems perfectly fine. Did San mention anything?”

You shake your head. “No, San just told me to bring Yobu over to you.”

“That’s odd…” Seonghwa frowns, fingers fiddling with the piercings on the shell of his ear before he lets out a sigh, rising to his feet. You keep your remark of ‘yeah, that sounds like San’ to yourself as you follow him with your eyes, watching as he steps over to the shelf, opening one of the drawers. “Anyway, I’m glad you came. I’ve been looking for you for a couple of weeks now.”

You pause, a little confused. Looking for you? What would the Park Seonghwa be searching for a person like you?

When he turns around, he’s holding your white handkerchief in his hands.

The two week old memory comes to the front of your mind and your mouth falls open. You remember walking to school, hearing someone sniffing quietly behind the school building, offering them a handkerchief… only for the person to be the one and only Park Seonghwa.

“Ahh…” Is all you manage to say, a little stunned as you accept the handkerchief back. It smells of clean cloth and soap that you don’t quite recognise, meaning that Seonghwa must have cleaned it for you. “You didn’t have to, but thank you anyway.”

Seonghwa shakes his head firmly as Yobu paws at the hem of his sweats, whining for attention. “No, I needed to. Thank you for lending it to me. I really appreciate it… could I repay you somehow? Maybe bring you out for a meal tomorrow?”

Your brain hits the brakes, all activity coming to a screeching halt as the words ‘meal’, ‘tomorrow’ and ‘repay’ bounce around your head like rubber balls. Thankfully, you’re saved from having to answer from the sound of your ringtone, although the second you hear it, you’re tempted to kill San right this second, and maybe yourself too, to save yourself the shame.

“You have a call! You have a call! Hey! Answer it! Don’t ignore me! Pleaseeee~” San’s voice comes from your pocket and you freeze in embarrassment, as Seonghwa stares at you in shock.

Your face turns red and you rush to answer the call, cheeks heating up in horrified mortification. Jabbing the little green icon with as much fury as you can muster, you hiss into the phone when the call comes through.

“What the hell did you do to my phone, San?”

“Hello! How’s my dear Yobu doing?” He sings, completely ignoring your furious question. You pause in your tracks, wheels turning in your mind as you put all the clues together. His too cheerful voice, the handkerchief, how he didn’t tell you Seonghwa was this veterinarian friend…

“Choi San.” Your voice is literally bubbling with mounting vexation and your rage must be clearly heard, because there’s a gulp over the phone. “Did you plan all of this?”

The line goes dead and you stare at your phone in shock.

Then you shriek in fury.

“I’m going to kill that slimy worm! That little bastard! Playing me like this!” Your fists are clenching around your phone, dearly wishing they were wringing San’s scrawny neck instead. You’re about to throw something when a warm hand settles on your shoulder and you whirl around in shock, suddenly remembering that Seonghwa is still in the room with you.

“Is everything alright?” He asks hesitantly, dark eyes wide and concerned and your rage dissipates into thin air, replaced by all too potent self-consciousness. He’d just seen you screaming your head off like a mad woman, for god’s sake.

“Yeah...I’m just going to have to kill that bastard the next time I see him.” You mumble under your breath, turning your phone to silent before savagely shoving it in your pocket. “Yobu is fine, San just played a massive prank on us.”

To your surprise, Seonghwa doesn’t even react in the least, clearly expecting something like this after having known San for so long. He merely presses one hand to his face as he shakes his head in exasperation. “I knew something was up when he was smiling so much that day. That kid, honestly…”

“Sorry for the bother.” You apologise quickly, scooping up Yobu in your arms and placing him in his basket. The ragdoll lets out a soft meow, as if confused as to why you’re leaving so soon when you practically run for the door in shame. But right before you can leave, Seonghwa’s hand grasps your wrist lightly, pulling you back, and you make a soft ‘eep’ in surprise as you turn to face him.

He actually looks painfully nervous, teeth toying with the black piercing on his lower lip as his gaze moves around shiftily, his toes scrunching up under Robot Man’s face. “Well… will you… will you let me bring you for dinner tomorrow? To thank you?”

You freeze awkwardly, the tension between the two of you thick as sauna steam. After a long, awkward pause of silence, Seonghwa finally seems to realise he’s holding onto your wrist and drops it like you have the plague, scooting back several steps to a more respectful distance. His tongue swipes across his pink lips shyly as he musters up the courage to speak again. “Please? I mean, if you’re uncomfortable, you don’t need to, I completely understand-”

You’re snapped out of your lip piercing induced shock when you finally realise that Seonghwa thinks that you’re reluctant to go with him. Not that you aren’t slightly… but maybe it’s time to give San’s friends a chance and get to know them. From what you’ve seen of Seonghwa, he doesn’t seem that bad to you anyway.

Awkwardly, you unlock your phone and pass it to him.

His eyes widen in surprise when he sees a blank contact open, the tiny line hovering at the ‘Name’ bar. Then a smile, one real and genuine, settles on his face as he enters his name and phone number, saving it before he passes it back to you.

“I’ll call you?” He asks as you slip on your shoes, balancing Yobu’s basket in one hand and your phone in the other. You nod in reply, a little breathless from his radiant smile.

“Yeah.”

From the basket, Yobu gives a smug mew of affirmation. His mission is complete.

[yeeharley]

yes pls tell us what lana del ray songs are herley keener and why💜

okay,,,, so @peachy-keener is the og harley keener-lana del ray mastermind so if they have anything to add,,,,, peachy,,,,,, please,,,,,,

1. national anthem

+ as i said earlier today, harley sings this one when he’s like. really horny. I'm sorry but it’s true. 

+ he drives around on uneven country roads, full-speed over potholes with peter in the passenger seat. leaves it on repeat (obviously) and every single time- every time- he gets to ‘national anthem, god, you’re so handsome” or any of the other kinda slow bits, he’ll speed up and lean over the middle of the divider and just. kiss peter. 

+ like, full on, hand on his jaw so that he’s only steering with his left, and peter sits there and just fucking dies inside because they’re going eighty and harley isn’t even looking where he’s going.

2. young and beautiful

+ this one is kinda sad because he associates it with his mother and father and the intense fear he feels over being abandoned by the people he loves (ie. peter). 

+ that one line where it’s like “hot summer days, rock and roll, the way you’d play for me” makes him think of his dad because he used to play the guitar and sing songs to him and his mother. 

+ “i know you will, i know you will, i know that you will” is addressed to peter, because he logically knows that peter would never leave him like that, but he’s just so afraid of losing everything that he loves that it surpasses all logic.

+ “dear lord, when i get to heaven, please let me bring my man” has a strong connotation with his religious conflict and the fact that he lives in the bible belt and feels like, deep down, what he’s doing is wrong and an abomination and this awful thing that he’s been bashed over for years and years.

+ “he’s my sun, he makes me shine like diamonds” is again in relation to peter. harley has absolutely no self esteem, but he looks at peter like this angelic being who makes him better and stronger and brighter 

3. born to die

+ “feet don’t fail me now, take me to the finish line”- harley constantly feels like he can’t keep up with his own expectations. he wonders when he’s finally going to give out and fall apart, and he doesn’t know if he’s going to be able to pick himself up when it happens

+ “choose your last words, this is the last time, because you and i? we were born to die”- peter’s occupation holds a constant danger and harley never knows if he’s going to come home at the end of the night. someday, he fears, there’s going to be a time when peter kisses him on the cheek and leaves and never comes back.

+ he’ll get a call from may or michelle or ned or the police or pepper and his feet will fall out from beneath him and he’ll go, too, even if it won’t be physical.

+ he knows peter wouldn’t leave him on purpose.

+ he also knows that peter may not have a choice.

4. gods and monsters

+ “in the land of gods and monsters, i was an angel”- harley is dating/engaged to a superhero, the practically-adopted son of another superhero, and he’s human. painfully. he makes mistakes and scrapes himself up and gets into back alley fights. he feels like, with peter and tony beside him, he’ll never actually be good like them.

+ “no one's gonna take my soul away”- he’s fighting to keep himself together, to recover from the loss of his father and his father figure, to avoid crying every time peter leaves for patrol, to combat the bible bashers who ruined faith for him. it’s the hardest thing he’ll ever have to do, even though he doesn’t know that yet.

[denkineptune]

mha boys + baking (hc)

♡ some baking headcanons i whipped up real quick, just because this idea popped into my head and i could not rest until i finished this lol

♡ fic details: 1.1k words, headcanons, not x-reader, edited (probably not very well, some small print but not anything important

characters: kaminari, kirishima, bakugou

kaminari, 1/10:

↠ cannot bake for the life of him. he’s the kind of person to swear up and down that he could go on a baking show, but in reality? has definitely committed some kind of food-related war crime

↠ he’s slightly dumb, it’s endearing but also not a good trait in the kitchen. since baking has a lot to do with fractions, he says that exact measurements are “stupid” and can be eyeballed. the worst mistake he’s made because of this was definitely when he used a tablespoon to measure out a 1/4 teaspoon of baking soda. he ended up putting about half a tablespoon of the stuff in the batter, and bakugou’s birthday cupcakes tasted like soap

↠ he also thinks every ingredient is interchangeable if it looks similar; he’ll replace sugar with salt if he doesn’t have enough, so maybe steer clear of his brownies, you’ll likely get sodium poisoning. he replaces vanilla with molasses, which just- no,,,

↠ denki also tends to over- or under- cook things which results in either very burnt, inedible baked goods or hot goop in your mouth. both ways, quite gross

↠ he won’t wait for the oven to preheat, he’s not patient like that. he’s definitely used his quirk to try to heat a pie tin and bake it in a split second. it doesn’t go well, obviously. it explodes in his face and makes everyone quite upset, because they’re forced to clean the ceiling. the ceiling. 

↠ don’t let him around ovens, period. he’s left things in for too long multiple times. his logic is “i’ll know when it’s done, i can smell it,” so he doesn’t set a timer. then he gets distracted by his phone, and forgets to take the pan out, resulting in an oven fire. todoroki has to put it out because denki’s unable to use a fire extinguisher

↠ kaminari doesn’t even grease pans, his monstrous baked “goods” are left burnt in their pans, since nobody can manage to get it out. just throw the whole thing away, at that point

↠ “ah, fuck!” is a regular thing to hear if he’s left in the kitchen alone, so for the love of god, do not leave him unattended. he’s like a baby, you need to have someone watching him at all times or he’ll burn something or himself

↠ that being said, he’s been taught to soothe his sugar cravings by microwaving pre-made mug cakes that the others stick in the fridge. this prevents heights alliance from being destroyed every time pikachu wants dessert

kirishima, 7.5/10:

↠ he does his absolute best and he’s quite decent! i’d say he’s around the average, he’s not a pro, but he doesn’t suck

↠ his favorite things to make are definitely cupcakes, they’re easiest to distribute and share with people. they’re quite simple to mass produce, and you can personalize each depending on who they’re going to. it all really comes down to how easy they are to make and give out

↠ he uses cute-ass cupcake liners, he and mina go to daiso and get really pretty ones 

↠ using borrowed icing bags (courtesy of sato, ty angel), he ices the cupcakes with different color frosting depending on the favorite color of whoever will eat it. on april fool’s day, he made a cupcake (no pranks, that’s unmanly) that was half vanilla and half red velvet with the same color scheme of icing, which he then gave to todoroki. it was very cute, and shouto liked it a lot :)

↠ eijirou can sometimes make common blunders; a bit too much flour, forgetting the salt, spilling some vanilla, things like that

↠ he does this cute thing where, if he’s baking cookies for someone else, he’ll fake spilling chocolate chips into the batter as an excuse to put more in than the recipe calls for

“oh nooooooooo the chocolate chip bag fell in, there’s too many in the batter... welp too bad, what’s next-”

↠ it’s very sweet hehe literally

↠ kiri doesn’t bake all that often, there’s a lot more immediate things that he needs to tend to (ie. homework, friends, training), but sometimes, in his spare time, he’ll get in the mood where he decides that he might as well bake

↠ he doesn’t keep his treats to himself, pretty much ever. making brownies? better share them with everyone else, they could use it after this hard week. one person can’t possibly eat this many cookies, who else is around that i can give them to? basically, if it’s able to be shared, he’ll share it

↠ HE LETS PEOPLE LICK THE BATTER SPOON !!!! usually, the person who eats it is mina, uraraka, hagakure, or kaminari, but that’s only because they’re the ones who stay around the kitchen until kiri is done with the spoon

↠ he attracts a crowd of students near the kitchen that want either the spoon or final product. overall, he’s just a ray of sunshine

bakugou, 9/10:

↠ let’s get this straight, he rarely bakes. as in, pretty much never. he can count the amount of times he’s baked on one hand, and they were all only for some kind of celebration. he doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth, so he feels no need to make desserts

↠ but on the off chance he does make something, it is so. fucking. good.

↠ he’s already MasterChef Junior while cooking, and though baking isn’t that similar, he knows how to maneuver around the kitchen, and isn’t an idiot

↠ katsuki is familiar with the ingredients he’s using, therefore he knows what pairs well. he’s smart, so he figures out, logically, how to put everything together. he’s also not, as he so eloquently puts it, “a fucking moron”, and he follows the recipe to a t (unless he thinks something is stupid, at which point he’ll yell at the cookbook and come up with a substitute for said dumb thing) 

↠ everything is done just right, and by the end, everyone is practically in heaven when eating the food

↠ he doesn’t share. ever. 

↠ you would have to steal to get any food, and you would have to do it well. if he catches you stealing, he’ll have your head. he also doesn’t let people lick the spoon, as it is “gross and unsanitary”, but he secretly does it. c’mon, he’s the baker. 

↠ as i said before, he only bakes for special occasions, like his dad’s birthday. his dad is very soft and peaceful, unlike his son. he loves handmade gifts because they’re thoughtful, and mitsuki suggests that katsuki bake for him. he protests, but ultimately can’t refuse his mom

↠ bakugou does something i like to call “angry baking”, where he does everything very aggressively

↠ the stirring is done very violently and batter splashes everywhere; when he grates lemons and limes for a key lime pie, he looks like a murderer. his eyes are g l o w i n g. but it’s good he doesn’t have a knife, like when he’s cooking. that would make it all the more intimidating.

↠ at least the food is good, even if the process is slightly... alarming....

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾𝒹𝑒𝓃𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑒𝓅𝓉𝓊𝓃𝑒​​​​​☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

[hitchell-mope]

Where does that leave Luke?

Let’s say the boys get resurrected at the end. Where are they going to live? It can be assumed that Reggie and Alex are probably going to stay with the Molina’s since they’re parents have moved away and they’ve all but adopted Ray as their dad. But what about Luke? It’d be awkward being the homeless runaway living in his crush’s garage. But there are two options that probably wouldn’t work but would present interesting story options

Option one. His parents. They still live locally. They’re still alive. But the only problem is he’s not aged physically or mentally in 25 years and he’s dead. How in the heck do you explain taking in a boy who’s a dead ringer (pardon the pun) for your son who died two and a half decades ago? Awkward questions all around. And it could prove to be an even bigger wedge between them. So that’s the less ideal one

Option two. Is Trevor. That’s right. Trevor Wilson. The lone surviving member of sunset curve. Ex friend. Ex band mate. And song plagiariser. Of course Luke would be ticked off about having to be looked after by a guy he saw flush eighteen goldfish. And then there’s Carrie’s animosity towards Julie which he’d definitely take issue with. But. I think somewhere down the line (ie; when Julie asks him to make the best of it for her if nothing else) he’d probably get used to someone caring about his safety again. Even if he still has to hide from his parents

So that’s my theory on who could take Luke in if the boys ever get resurrected. Bonus points if the second option includes Willie. Cause he’ll also need a permanent living situation should he decide he wants to leave the HGC in the past. And I really would t blame him for that. So. Tell me what you guys think? Who do you think Luke should stay within if her ever came back to life?