#mainly about what caused him to turn gray

[pikatrainer99]

I drew my Trollsona again! Hope you guys like the drawing!

(If you guys can't read my terrible handwriting all over the place in the drawing please let me know and I'll tell you what it says 😅)

He's in his early teens in this drawing, and he's on his way back to his pod with a freshly replenished stock of berries, one basket in each hand as well as one being carried by his prehensile tail. This is basically concept art, hence all the details pointed out by arrows. He chooses to swing through the trees using his hair to travel faster and minimize the chance of running into other Trolls...because he's gray from being nothing but bullied by them, all because he was born with hypersensitive senses, especially his hearing, and can't handle parties and normal Troll stuff because of it, he's also very shy and introverted, and no one knows who or where his parents are (they left the egg containing him in the village, then immediately dipped, and there's been no sign of them at all since), so he's been a village outcast right from the beginning when he hatched, and has never had a single friend. He has been completely withdrawn and isolated, hiding away in his pod for years by the time this drawing takes place, and hasn't spoken a single word the whole time, not even to himself, the only communication method available to him now is his tail (which, since he's the only Troll in the village with a tail, also got him bullied...the others would physically hurt him by pulling his tail), which is the biggest indicator of his emotions. He only leaves his pod whenever he needs to gather more berries for food. He's also a smart cookie, he managed to soundproof the walls of his pod all by himself so he can feel safe there without having anxiety/panic attacks because of the loud noises and music of the village (despite the fact that he chose to hang his pod as close to the forest as possible without leaving village grounds, in order to minimize potential encounters with other Trolls when he goes out berry picking), and he spends his days now with a silent voice and racing mind, he's always thinking and writing about anything and everything that comes to his mind (it's all negative stuff, like him wondering why no one would be friends with him even way back when he was super little before he lost his colors and would try his best to reach out to the others). He's a depressed, traumatized, confused boy, but if you work hard to earn his trust (which will take a LOT of hard work), and he deems you trustworthy, he will be your friend for life (all he's ever wanted in his life is a friend...just one friend...poor little guy).

I think that's enough about my Trollsona's story for now. Just in case you were wondering, I based his story and behavior off of my own childhood (unlike my Trollsona though, I do in fact have parents), where I was very much bullied relentlessly myself for being autistic and different from everyone else around me, I couldn't make friends to save my life and I completely withdrew from society and isolated myself, had convinced myself that all people were bad for a LONG time, and didn't trust anyone because all I had ever experienced from other people was bullying and abuse...I have PTSD from it, and I'm trying to work on healing, and one of the most effective ways for me to process things is through writing and creating things, so I based my Trollsona on my child self as a way to hopefully help my wounded inner child to process and heal from the trauma. So I'll be using my Trollsona to write a series of stories (that I will NOT be posting online btw) that end up with a good outcome for him despite his suffering through his own traumas.

If you'd like to know more about my Trollsona and/or his story, please feel free to ask me about him! This post may be kinda long, but it honestly barely scratches the surface when it comes to my Trollsona and his story! 😅

[k4marina]

— ii. Dragon Rider || Heart of the Dragon

synopsis: a new routine in a new world

warnings: idek lol. unedited and not properly read (i kept falling asleep lmao)

series masterlist || next part

~ 2.5k word count.

game of thrones x modern!fem!reader

[gif found on pinterest]

Never in my life have I regretted anything more than I did now. 

“Me and my big fucking mouth,” I grunted, getting up from the ground and dusting my leather pants. Gray Worm looks at me with a slightly amused expression. Of course he would, he just dropped me onto my ass for the fifth time today. 

It had been almost two weeks after the Small Council meeting. There had been a few more since then, but no major topics were discussed, other than Varys begrudgingly backing what I had said about Cersie having scorpions when asked if his little birds had any news. The new armor and weapons for the Unsullied are also being made. After a few talks with Daenerys, Gray Worm, a few Unsullied commanders, and I, the new armor design was decided on. Surprisingly the Unsullied were very artistic people and had great ideas. 

And, within the past two weeks, I’ve been tortured everyday, my limbs aching all the time, threatening to fall off. Everyday, I’ve been woken up at four in the morning for my sword lessons with Gray Worm for five hours a day. When I said I wanted to learn, I didn’t mean I wanted to train to be the world's best swordsman of all time. 

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” I say towards him, wiping away the sweat on my face. 

“I have no idea to what you are referring to, My Lady.” Gray Worm says, feigning innocence. 

“You can’t call me ‘My Lady’ and then drop me on my ass for the fifth time.” I pointed out. 

Gray Worm smiled and got into a fighting stance and I mirrored. “Your defense has gotten better; however, your strength and stamina is lacking.” 

He gave the signal and charged towards me, going to swing towards my left. I sidestepped and blocked the hit with my sword before knocking it back. This time, I went for the attack, but Gray Worm expertly blocked me and knocked the sword out of my hand. The sword clattered against the stone ground, landing a few feet away from me.

“Maybe it’s best we stop for today.” He says, picking up the sword and placing it back onto the rack. I let out a sigh of relief and walked over to the inches, grabbing a towel and wiping the sweat away from my face and neck. 

“Be honest,” I said, turning towards him. “Am I a lost cause?” 

He snorts out a laugh and shakes his head. “Apologies, My Lady.” Once he’d composed himself he answered, “No, I do not believe you are a ‘lost cause’. It may seem difficult now, but it will get easier later on.” 

“Wow, wise words,” I said sarcastically, taking a swig of water from the canteen. “They should call you ‘Gray Worm the Wise’.” 

“I’m pleased that you think I am someone with wisdom.” He says, giving a small bow, making me chuckle. 

After the lessons, I took a bath in my room, this time with the help of the servants. The first few days I would have them leave so I could bathe myself, but I guess over the days it just naturally happened. Once bathed and dressed in a white dress with gold embroidery and pearl beads before I made my way to the hall to have breakfast with Daenerys. 

Not only was it a good way for us to get to know one another (mainly her learning about me) as well as discussing future events and how we would maneuver through it. However, not all of it. I had made the decision to not tell her about Jon Snow or the White Walkers, I think that’s something she should organically go through. All she knows about Jon is that he’s the King in the North is Jon Snow, Ned Stark's “bastard” and the former Nights Watch Lord Commander who came back from the dead.  

The doors to the hall were swung open for me and I walked in, spotting Daenerys at the head of the table, looking through some documents. The sound of the doors closing, snapped her out of her thoughts. When she saw me she smiled, which I returned. 

“What did I say about bringing work to the dining table,” I lightly scolded. She gave me a sheepish look and protested, “it can’t be helped, it's important work. As Queen I’m expected to do this and more.” 

I walked over to her, carefully taking the documents and setting them off to the side. “Dany, you’ve been a Queen since you married Khal Drogo. You need to step back and take some time to just be Daenerys. Otherwise you’ll grow overworked.” 

“Alright, alright. If you’re so sure.” She nodded towards the servants to begin serving the food. Like always, an array of food was laid out for us to eat. We both began to eat, making small talk and updating each other with any new updates. 

“Gray Worm has been telling me that you’re quite exceptional with a sword,” She teased. 

I playfully rolled my eyes, groaning, “not you too.” She let out a laugh, teasing me some more. “What? He says you’re a fast learner. He says he’s never seen someone land on their arse five times in a row.” 

“Right, that’s it.” I huffed. “I’m running away.” 

Daenerys laughed some more and I tried to hide my smile. Truthfully, she reminded me of my younger cousin in Volantis, Mera. Both of them had a heart of gold and an innocent child-like soul deep down. 

“The servants told me that you refused to have your hair braided.” Daenerys points out. She’s not wrong. Instead of braiding my hair I opted to leave it in a ponytail or let it down. 

“Well, I haven’t won any battles.” I said. “Each one of your braids represents a battle won, I haven’t won anything.”

“So if you win you’ll braid your hair?” 

“Sure, why not. Why? Do you not want me to?”

“No, no. Actually, I would quite like that.” She smiled. 

I eyed her suspiciously, “don’t tell me you’re planning on putting me in the frontlines.” 

She shrugged. “Maybe. Your lessons with Gray Worm are going well. Who knows, by the time we’re ready for war you’ll be a master swordsman –or rather swordswoman.”

The rest of the breakfast went fine. Daenerys and I decided to take a stroll around the castle ground claiming she has something to show me. She dropped off the papers in her office before taking me through the back of the castle to the open fields in the back. The wind swept by us, carrying the saltiness of the ocean and the fresh scent of grass. 

“Where are we going?” I asked as she led me deeper into the field. 

“I just wanted to show you something. They’re right over there.” 

We stood atop a hill and at the foot of the hill on the other side resting were Daenerys’ dragons. I felt my heart stop. No way. What the actual fuck. My mouth ran dry as I looked over the three dragons. Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion, all in their full glory. I looked over to Daenerys who was already looking towards me. 

“You’re serious?” I ask. She smiles and nods. “What if they don’t like me and decide to eat me?” 

Daenerys laughed, her cheeks turning pink. “They will do none of that sort, I swear. I have a strong feeling that they will like you.” 

Carefully she led me closer to the three dragons. With every step they just grew more and more. They towered over the two of us and stood with immense power. And to think that these three are just a small fraction of the size of Balerion and the rest of the Targaryen fleet. 

We stood a few feet away but I could still feel the heat that they emitted from their bodies. Their majestic eyes that were probably the size of my head watched me carefully. Shiny scales adorned their bodies that looked to be about the size of my hand or bigger. Their one claw nail was the same size as my limbs. 

Holy fuck was this crazy. I’d read about these dragons and even saw a few drawings made by people who’d seen them in textbooks, but being this up close and personal with them was a whole other experience. 

Oddly enough, for such dangerous creatures, they seemed to emit a sense of calm. 

“You feel it too?” Daenerys eyes my reactions to the dragons. “Their calm.” 

I nodded. “I thought my heart would be doing somersaults in my chest, but it’s not.” After the initial shock, I felt my body relax. 

“They’re so beautiful.” I said to no one in particular. 

We hung around them for some time, allowing me to get used to their presence while Daenerys told me stories about her and her dragons. 

I looked over the dragons. Drogon, named after Daenerys’ husband Khal Drogo. Rhaegal, named after Rhaegar the Dragon Prince. Viserion, named after Viserys the Beggar King. 

Daenerys followed my gaze to the cream and gold scales dragon that laid on the grass alongside his brothers. Viserion and Rhaegal seemed to play fight while Drogon watched. 

“Despite their playful nature, those two are the oldest.” 

“What? 

The dragons carefully made their way over to where we stood. Drogon moved towards Daenerys, moving his tail around her as if giving her a hug. Rhaegal moved around behind us, opting to lounge. Viserion, however, moved closer to me. His green eyes bore into mine, as if it was trying to communicate with me. 

He brought his face closer to me, like a dog wanting to be pet. I glanced back at Daenerys who nodded. 

Viserion tilts his head when I carefully bring my hand up to stroke his gold and cream scales. A deep purr comes from him, nearly startling me. He nuzzles his head into my palm and purrs some more. It wasn’t like a cat's purr, more like a deep bass. 

“Would you like to fly him?” Daenerys asks. 

“Yes,” I replied without a thought, too entranced at the dragon in front of me. 

She moves around Drogo, standing to the side of him. 

“Stand like this,” she says. “This is what I find the easiest.” 

I mimic her stance, standing besides Viserion. Drogon crouched down and Daenerys carefully stepped up, using his scales and spikes to seat herself atop the dragon. 

I copied her, being careful to not hurt Viserion (not that I’d be able to) and sat myself on top of the gold dragon. It was uncomfortable, almost like riding a really large horse with spikes and scales. How Daenerys was able to ride her dragons without a saddle or harness was beyond me. 

My hands gripped onto the spikes on Viserions back, holding on tightly as the gold dragon began to shift around from a crouched position to fully stand. My hands gripped onto him tighter as I tried not to fall off. I peaked over its massive body to see that Viserion was getting ready to take off. 

“W-wait!” I looked towards Daenerys who was watching from atop Drogon. “Why is it taking off? What do I do?” Panic filled my voice. 

There was no way in seven hells that she thinks that I can fly, right? 

“Hold on!” She grins just as Drogon takes off into the sky. VIserion gets ready and I can already feel myself slipping off. He takes off just as I adjust my position, hunching down and tightening my grip onto his spikes. 

Wind rushes past my ears and my hair flows all over the place. Instinctively, I closed my eyes while Viserion flew in the air. I could hear Daenerys call for me from across the sky. 

“Open your eyes!” She says. “You’ll be safe, I promise.” 

Carefully, I opened them. It was brighter up in the sky than on the ground and had a lot less clouds. I could hear the, surprisingly, gentle flaps of Viserions wings. I cautiously looked down, seeing that we were miles off the ground, so far up that we could see Dragonstone Island and I could feel my stomach start to buzz. 

“Don’t look down,” I look up to see Daenerys. “When it was my first time I was terrified, as well, but you cannot let your fear control you or else it will transfer to your dragon.” 

I nodded, taking in her words and sitting up straight with confidence. Despite still feeling uneasy I managed to get my grip on things (literally). Daenerys’ words rung in my ears. 

“Your dragon,” 

I’d read of Dragons bonding with non-Targaryens or non-Valyrians, case and point being Hugh Hammer riding Vermithor during the Dance of Dragons. But it would make sense if I could bond with Viserion in light of recent findings. 

“Alright, let’s see what we can do.” I said to Viserion and I. 

—

Daenerys and I spent the rest of the day riding our dragons. It was challenging, especially the part where you literally have to hold onto for dear life, but rewarding in the end. 

In the end Viserion and I had truly bonded. He would know what I was thinking or how I was feeling without even saying a word to him. At first I thought it was just the two of us getting the hang of each other, but Daenerys explained that this was what she and Drogon felt. It was hard to believe that I was a Dragon Rider. But then again, this past week has shown that anything could be possible. 

Getting off the Dragons was harder than getting on, my dress snagging on its scales, but not ripping entirely. 

“I can help you with your riding,” Daenerys says as we walk back into the castle. 

“I’d like that.” I replied. “I’m sure we can find books in the libraries that can help us too.” 

“Have you uncovered anything else?” She asks, expectantly. 

I shook my head. “Nothing of significance. I’ll keep reading and let you in on my findings.” 

We split off so we could clean ourselves up and get ready for dinner. The bathtub was already ready for me when I entered the room. I pulled off my dress and sunk into the steaming hot water. The tension in my shoulders loosened and I dipped my head back to rest on the edge of the bathtub. 

The weight of my necklace lay heavy on my chest, a firm reminder of my… predicament. I tried not to think about it all, otherwise I’d just spiral into some rabbit hole. Some days I wonder if it’s all some sort of dream. A long, vivid dream that I can't wake up from. A knot pulls at my chest, and my throat closes. My eyes flicker up to the ceiling, tears threatening to fall. I took a deep breath, the only thing I can do is take everything in day by day.

And then I fully submerged myself into the water.

a/n: finally, it’s here :) mb if there’s any spelling mistakes, i tried to proofread it but i kept falling asleep and couldn’t be asked anymore 😭 i’ll fix it later, trust 🙏.

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[gluion]

wish you were sober — seok matthew

seok matthew x reader, slight myung jaehyun x reader

wc — 6.9k genre & warnings — fluff, light angst, crack, friends to lovers, alcohol consumption, vomitting in one scene, kissing/making out, jealousy, zb1 friendgroup antics, HAOBIN AND GYUBRIK CANON SRY, boynextdoor and kiss of life cameo, reader has hair long enough to be tucked and held back playlist/inspired by — apt. by rosé & bruno mars // sober II by lorde // wish you were sober by conan gray // urs by niki // lovers rock by tv girl notes — wrote this mainly bc my life changed the moment matthew read my sign in the jebewon con, finished it the day matthew was @ the prada event. and in both instances, i've gotten significantly more ill, so here's this very self-indulgent, self-insert fic (where aspects are derived from my own experiences) <3 if you enjoyed reading, please do reblog and leave feedback! request to be part of the taglist! masterlist

synopsis — as far as matthew knows, you still liked another man. yet, your friendship with him takes a sudden turn over a drunken confession... or three.

(or in other words, the three times you confess to matthew under the influence but he never believes you—until you tell him sober.)

the first time you confess to matthew happens on the night of hanbin’s graduation—no, not a confession of love but one of attraction.

if matthew has to be completely honest, he still doesn’t know what to make of your words. over the course of three years, he wouldn’t have suspected your interest in him. if anything, he’s under the impression you still like jaehyun. yet, everything shifts the moment he stumbles into the same bathroom as you.

“hanbin, have you found yourself a job?” gyuvin pops the long awaited question.

more than half of the group finds themselves in the kitchen. matthew knows that gunwook’s coming from soccer practice and yujin had to stay home for a doctor’s appointment the next day. as for you, he remembers seeing you with julie on the search for jaehyun and sungho.

the graduated fellow groans. “don’t remind me that i’m unemployed. this whole job search is going to kill me.” hao chuckles as hanbin rests his head on his shoulder.

gyuvin slings his arm around jiwoong’s shoulders. “oh, don’t worry! i’m sure this employed man can make something happen, right?” 

“me? you should be asking ricky!” all eyes land on the blond who sips away on a drink. “he’s the one with a family business. i’m barely making it in that goddamn nine to five that i’m still mixing shit for you college students.”

ricky elbows jiwoong’s side, causing the man to yelp. “you could be asking me for a job if you really hated the one you have now.”

“really? you could save me?” jiwoong almost gets on his knees until matthew holds him back.

“please don’t do that. not everyone knows you here.”

the man complies and puts his hands together. “ricky, please. i might just kill myself if i have to deal with another overtime. i mean, i can’t even remember the last time i properly hung out with you guys.”

“i don’t think anyone expects you to stick with us all the time. you have a job.” taerae’s point only brings him to a fit of laughter as jiwoong tickles him.

regardless of how loud taerae and jiwoong are, the rest of the group continues to discuss hanbin’s dilemma. “but yes, i could make something happen if you really want,” ricky offers.

“really? thank you!” hanbin hugs him. “it’s almost impossible to find a job. i don’t know why.”

“tell me about it. i can’t even get an internship. i’m already willing to settle for an unpaid one but no one seems to be accepting,” taerae complains as he leans against the wall. 

hao swishes around the alcohol in his cup. “that does make me wanna ask what the upcoming seniors are planning to do.” his eyes darted between taerae and matthew.

taerae grins. “the goal is to become a trophy wife.”

“of course it is.” gyuvin laughs before leaning against ricky. “i’m marked safe. i don’t know about you guys.”

jiwoong groans while taerae rolls his eyes at their public display of affection. “you don’t have to rub it in our faces.”

“yeah, whatever. what about you?” ricky looks at matthew. “are you still planning for medschool or is there another career crisis happening again?”

he shakes his head. “nah, i’m still pretty set on med school. next year is going to be hell for me.”

“ah, that means matthew is going to be the one providing for his partner! taerae, now’s your chance.” hanbin’s joke has everyone bursting into laughter.

taerae dramatically clears his throat, choking in between which only makes them wheeze. “matthew, can i be yours?”

matthew gets closer to his friend, his face only a few inches apart before saying, “not until you let me become yours.” at his double down, everyone starts to make gagging noises, including taerae who physically cringes.

“get a room!”

“damn, no kiss?” ricky’s joke in contrast to gyuvin’s complaint has jiwoong chuckling.

“yeah, you know what? fuck you, guys. i’m going to find someone at this damn party.” with that, taerae ventures off. jiwoong follows without another word.

gyuvin’s phone rings in his pocket. as he brings it out, he sees a message. “oh, gunwook’s already here! i’m gonna go grab him.” ricky trails behind his partner, leaving matthew with the other couple. 

hanbin looks around before asking, “hey, where is y/n?”

“last time i saw them, they were looking for myungjae and sungho.” matthew chugs down his drink before letting out a sigh.

“i wonder when they’ll finally grow a pair and ask him out, or just do something about it,” hao wonders out loud as he stares off into the crowd. “it’s almost painful to watch. i feel like i need to play cupid.”

“wait, why haven’t you been helping them out?”

hanbin’s question has matthew laughing in disbelief. “you think i haven’t? i’ve done almost everything to push them. i even told them all the signs that show he’s clearly interested, but y/n won’t budge. i’m surprised they’ve been sane enough to not say anything even while drunk.”

it almost seems like their conversation summoned jaehyun into the kitchen as he comes rushing to them. “oh, speak of the devil. we were just talking about you,” matthew says with a smile until he sees worry taking over jaehyun’s features.

“guys, i think y/n had too much to drink.”

matthew stands up straight. “where are they?”

“in the bathroom with julie.”

without another word, matthew makes his way to you while jaehyun follows. “what even happened?”

“y/n was fine, i swear. with how they were acting, we all thought they were just tipsy. but it was like watching a sudden switch from that to… genuinely almost passing out.”

it’s not that matthew doesn’t trust jaehyun. if anything, he would trust him any other day to watch over you, but tonight’s events only show that jaehyun still has much to learn about you. the guilt in his voice only shows how much he cares.

as soon as matthew spots sungho and natty outside of the bathroom, he rushes to them. “oh, thank god you’re here. julie is helping them freshen up right now,” sungho says. 

“we weren’t trying to get them blackout drunk, we swear. we really thought they were okay, but i don’t think they ate enough before drinking. me and julie were helping y/n as they were throwing up but they kept looking for you.”

matthew rubs his chin over natty’s explanation. “can i go in?”

“uh, let me check.” natty knocks on the door before swinging it open.

“matthew, we’re sorry. we really didn’t know,” jaehyun apologizes.

before matthew can say anything, julie exits the bathroom. “i think they puked out whatever they could. just make sure they stay close to the toilet.”

without another word, matthew makes his way to the doorway. he sees your hunched figure by the bathtub as you sit on the tiled-floor. in your drunken state, you don’t notice him as you quietly sing a melody.

matthew should’ve been filled with worry. yet, he thinks back to natty’s words, and the image of you looking for him plays in his mind—and it’s a smile that he can’t get rid of.

once he closes the door behind him, your eyes snap to him. “matthew! you’re here.” your slurred words bring him to a chuckle.

matthew remembers the last time you were this drunk; it’s funny to find you in the same situation after telling him multiple times that you wouldn’t drink that much ever again. he crouches to your side, taking in the sight of your disheveled state. “y/n, i thought we weren’t going to drink that much anymore.”

“i know,” you hiccup before your eyes shut, “i’m sorry.”

sure, you were always a mess whenever you drank this much, but you were never intolerable—never to matthew. (after all, he’d deal with you in your most intoxicated state over the others.)

his hand reaches out to tuck some strands behind your ear. at the presence of his warmth, your cheek snuggles against his palm. “you don’t have to be sorry. it’s okay.” you melt into his touch. 

without thinking, his thumb caresses your cheek, etching invisible shapes onto your skin. he watches you twitch over the action, and your eyes meet him once more. 

matthew’s ready to draw his hand back, help you stand up and escort you back to your place—

“you’re so pretty.”

his movements halt. matthew doesn’t know if he heard you right or if the alcohol is getting to him as well.

“huh?”

and the next thing you say stops him from breathing. “you’re so cute.”

it’s not unusual for you to compliment him, really, but something’s different about now. maybe it’s the alcohol or the distance between you two, but all matthew knows is that your words carried some weight different from other instances.

perhaps now is the worst time for matthew to be stuck in a daze. you’re drunk. he shouldn’t be making a fuss over the nonsense you spout, which is why he fails to catch the telltale signs of your impending nausea. (and you clearly wouldn’t have caught yourself in your intoxicated state.)

before you both know it, you throw up on yourself, and that finally snaps matthew out of a haze. he’s quick to grab the trashcan and bring it close to you. as you vomit, he holds your hair back. it keeps on going, and going, and going—at least matthew will take that as a clear sign that you’re done for the night.

on the next day, matthew asks if you remember what you said last night. when he’s met by your confusion, he knows better than to not think anymore of what you said then.

(and instead of sharing your slurred words, he tells you of the vomiting mishap in the bathroom. jesus fucking christ, i am not drinking ever again, you say in embarrassment.)

ever since that night, matthew has made it a habit to ask about your progress with jaehyun. it’s not that he’s running away from the events of that night. after all, hanbin’s right; matthew should do a better job in playing cupid for you and jaehyun. yet, all questions pertaining to your relationship with the boy were always met with a shrug and a refusal to dive into the details.

a few months pass. something romantic has yet to develop between you and jaehyun. at this point, matthew is feeling hopeless about the future you dream with that boy, but he isn’t the type to give up. he knows that there’s something between you two—all you need is a push.

“happy birthday, gyuvin!” everyone cheers as their cups clink against each other.

the birthday boy grins as he leans on ricky’s shoulder. “thanks, everyone. i’m glad you guys are here,” he mumbles. his cheeks have gone red and his words are starting to slur. considering how long the party has been going, matthew isn’t surprised to see gyuvin very much intoxicated.

for his birthday, he decided to invite his friends from his other social circles; basketball jocks, gaming nerds, and even student council folks take over his house as they talk and play over drinks. gyuvin thinks now would be the best time for all of his friends to meet. still, most of the group sticks together.

“you know, you should just hire me to bartend for your parties. everyone in this party seems to be chugging the drinks i mix for them,” jiwoong jokes as he bumps his shoulder against gyuvin.

“isn’t the next party going to be halloween? are we even planning to host one?” hanbin asks.

taerae tries to recall the previous arrangement. “didn’t we agree to spend halloween with yujin?”

“nah, we decided on christmas. yujin said he has plans for halloween, so we can host or just find another party to crash.” gunwook’s response brings the whole group to look at him. he raises his hands in defense. “don’t look at me! i’m not offering to host.”

“does myungjae not plan to host one?” hao’s question seems to be directed at matthew with how his eyes are on him.

jiwoong brings his hands together. “perfect! he might hire me.”

matthew rolls his shoulders back. ever since he tried playing cupid, he doesn’t know why everyone seems to go to him for anything related to you and jaehyun. first, it was when gunwook wanted to know about jaehyun’s schedule. next, it was gyuvin when he asked if jaehyun and his friends would be attending this party.

it’s not like matthew knew everything about myung jaehyun. 

(unfortunately, it doesn’t help that he only has jaehyun’s schedule because he had to find a way to make you spend time with him. what doesn’t help his case any more is that he only knew of jaehyun’s attendance because he wanted to make use of this party to push you to do something.)

“i wouldn’t know.” matthew takes a sip of his drink. “and, wouldn’t hanbin know? he’s closer to myungjae than i am.”

“we should just ask him. where is he, anyway?” hanbin looks around.

“probably with y/n, or something,” ricky jokes before swaying in his spot with gyuvin. “any update on that? what’s been going on with them.”

all matthew does is shrug in response.

“guys, hear me out…” gyuvin calls on the group’s attention. “truth or dare.”

a beat passes.

“let’s go find myungjae.”

“yah! it’s my birthday.” gyuvin pouts over hao’s reaction. “don’t you guys think it’ll be fun?”

jiwoong scoffs at gyuvin’s question. “fun? the last time we played, it resulted in someone losing their clothes and me almost losing my job from a tweet you guys made.”

“i thought you hated your job, anyway.” taerae��s comment results in a scolding from jiwoong. “what?! i’m just pointing it out.”

while some were against the idea, others were onboard with gyuvin’s idea. “i’m sure it’ll be fun. let’s get myungjae and the others to join in as well,” gunwook suggests.

then, it hits matthew that this is it—this is the opportunity that he needs to push you. under the guise of a simple and fun game of truth or dare, he could maximize whatever option you choose. “i’m in.”

everyone ends up agreeing with gyuvin’s game. from there on, all matthew needs to do is grab you and jaehyun and hope that his plan moves forward. (and get his other friends to join, sure.)

matthew is lucky that he’s able to spot julie in a sea of students. while she’s busy chatting with the seniors, he realizes that you and jaehyun aren’t with her. he continues to move through the crowd. the last thing he wants is to see you too drunk to function, especially when the universe presented him with the perfect opportunity for you and jaehyun.

yet, it comes to his surprise that he sees you in the corner, whispering into the ear of your crush with your hand against his chest. the grin on jaehyun’s face is enough for matthew.

maybe you didn’t need your friend’s help. just from the distance (or the lack of it), matthew thinks you might have everything under control. that means that matthew can sit back and allow you two to unfold this romance.

but there’s a sting in matthew’s chest. he’s sure it’s not a heart attack; it should come in a form of squeezing, and the pain should spread throughout his body. yet, the one he’s experiencing is merely an ache. maybe he should hold himself back from drinking any more.

“have you found y/n?” gunwook rests his hand on matthew’s shoulder. before matthew can respond, gunwook spots you and jaehyun. “myungjae! y/n!” at his call, you two snap your attention to them. matthew can already tell how intoxicated you are from how you spin your head to his direction. “come! we’re gonna play a game.” with that, gunwook takes his leave.

matthew’s suspicions are further proven with your inability to walk straight to him. “matthew! there you are,” you giggle as your arm links with his. your hiccup brings matthew to look at jaehyun.

“how much did they have this time?”

“less than the last time, but i’d still argue quite a lot.” 

while matthew and jaehyun try to find the group, you continue to latch onto matthew’s arm as you walk sluggishly. “do you not drink a lot?” matthew asks jaehyun.

the boy hums for a moment. “i do, but i think it’s better if i drink less when i’m around y/n. at least i’d be sober enough to take care of them.”

matthew has no reason to doubt jaehyun, especially with an answer like that. he knows that jaehyun would care for any of his friends; jaehyun’s always been the type to help out his friends with any task, but his choice to take that extra step tells matthew enough of his adoration for you.

“what are you guys talking about? are you talking about me?” you slur the question as you tug on matthew’s arm. “it better be good things.”

matthew can’t help but laugh.

as soon as matthew and jaehyun spot the rest of their friends gathering into a circle around a bottle, the three of you quickly find your own spots to settle into.

jaehyun takes a seat near sungho, leaving some space beside him. before matthew can go somewhere farther to sit, your grip on his arm holds him back. “hey, stay with me.” matthew’s eyes flicker between your drunken expression and jaehyun’s gaze fixed on him and you.

“you’re okay. you’ll be with myungjae.”

matthew’s confident that you would agree to sit beside jaehyun. after all, the boy took care of you for most of the night. yet, your grip never falters, and nothing could’ve prepared him for the last sentence you mumble, one only for him to hear.

“no. want you with me.” 

matthew stills. the music becomes muffled and the chatter surrounding him falls silent. instead, the beating of his heart fills his ears as heat rises to his cheeks—and he doesn’t know why. 

“hey! sit down!” gyuvin calls him out. with all eyes on you two, matthew doesn’t want to upset you any further. if he pushed to sit somewhere else, it would only cause a scene, and that’s the last thing he wants on his friend’s birthday. matthew finds himself sinking into a spot beside you.

the game proceeds accordingly, where most chug some more alcohol with every round that passes. secrets spill out of people’s mouths and laughter seems to fill the air. and for some reason, with all the times that’s passed, you stayed leaning against matthew.

at least you weren’t drinking along with the others.

after multiple interrogations and embarrassing dares, taerae spins the bottle. “please please please, don’t make it me again,” he prays as everyone watches the bottle go in circles.

“i’d laugh if you had to do another one,” gunwook says before taking another shot. “actually, i’m going to hope it lands on you!”

taerae tackles his friend to the ground over his comment, making him yell out complaints. yet, the universe works in taerae’s favor—and also matthew’s.

“oh my god, finally!” taerae cheers as he sees the bottle pointing at you.

you blink a couple of times. “oh, fuck me.” your head finds its spot behind your hands.

“i have been waiting for this one.” taerae rubs his hands together. “truth or dare?”

you have always been the type to choose truth. with the group’s history with dares, you weren’t the type to take that risk, which is why it comes as a surprise to everyone when you say, “fuck it, give me a dare.”

this is it. this is the opportunity that matthew needed. “i have a dare!” he beats everyone from spitting out any useless suggestion. as soon as all eyes are on him, he glances at jaehyun before saying, “i dare you to do seven minutes in heaven.”

your eyes go wide over matthew’s suggestion. “what the fuck?” you smack his arm. “no way in hell am i going to do that!”

“nu-uh! a dare is a dare,” ricky argues. “don’t try to get out of this.”

gyuvin speaks up, “if it helps, you don’t have to do anything with anyone. take this as your opportunity to bond with someone, get your heart-to-heart talk or something. but you can also make out with them, we don’t really care.” before he can take another shot, ricky stops him from doing so.

you groan at your friends’ insistence. “but with who?”

the stars are aligning for matthew. he’s about to chime in with the perfect name—

“what if we just spin the bottle again?” all hope shatters for matthew, and myung jaehyun is to blame. “that can determine who will be with y/n. it’s completely by chance.”

before matthew can interject, gyuvin claps at jaehyun’s suggestion. “you know what? you’re so fucking smart. let’s do that.” with how intoxicated the birthday boy is, no one seems to go against his idea, including you, and matthew fears what will unfold once that bottle lands on someone that isn’t jaehyun.

as soon as gyuvin reaches out to spin the bottle, matthew shuts his eyes in hopes that the universe would listen to him in the same way it did with taerae. he’s not even doing this for himself—it’s all for you. he wants you to win as much as you do with yourself. (he hopes that, at least. he needs you to believe that you have something with jaehyun as much as he does. if you didn’t, then this would go nowhere.)

“oh.”

matthew says one final prayer. he opens his eyes at the sound of gyuvin’s reaction, and what he doesn’t expect to see is the bottle pointing right at him. matthew’s convinced that the universe is going against him.

“well, lead the way, birthday boy,” jiwoong says.

matthew glances at you, expecting to see disappointment, but he only sees an expression he’s never seen before—and one he can’t decipher. 

it doesn’t take a while until you and matthew are shoved into gyuvin’s walk-in closet. gunwook says they’ll keep the game going, but matthew attempts one last time to get out of this dare, only for the door to be shut right in front of his face.

as the shuffling of footsteps grow distant, matthew finally accepts defeat. he looks back to see you sitting on the floor with eyes shut. maybe you need these minutes to sober up. after all, who is the best person to take care of you if not him? 

matthew finds himself on the floor with you. seven minutes could easily pass with you two; not a single word needs to be said. but tonight, time seems to stretch into an eternity. matthew hates it.

he takes in the sight of you; your shirt’s disheveled and your nose scrunches from the heat of the room and alcohol. still, most things remain the same. your arms cross with every moment your eyes long for rest and your steady heart sounds throughout the room from every exhale.

since when did matthew notice all the small things about you? it’s not like you two were friends longer than he is with hanbin. he still finds himself forgetting trivial things about his friends—with you, it comes easy.

your eyes peel open, and for the first time, matthew’s nervous around you.

“you feeling better?”

you nod before sitting up straight. “yeah, i think the alcohol is leaving my system.”

“that’s good.”

seconds go by.

“so,” matthew clears his throat, “how are you and myungjae?”

a laugh escapes you, not like the ones whenever he cracks a joke but something he’s never heard before. “we’re okay.”

matthew waits a couple of moments until he realizes you weren’t going to expound. “oh, so now, i don’t get to hear you yap about your crush?” his comment manages to earn a laugh he’s familiar with.

but it’s turned into a reality. he can’t remember the last time you actually talked to him about myung jaehyun. if anything, it’s almost like you don’t want to talk about the boy to him.

matthew’s never been the type to force you to share anything, really, but he realizes it’s been a while since you mentioned the boy’s name. it’s impossible for him to ignore that. and tonight, he can blame his curiosity on the alcohol.

“are you hiding something?” 

“it’s not that.”

matthew hums. “then, what is it? 

silence falls on you two.

he takes the lack of your response as a sign. to not push any further. to not be curious. to respect your privacy.

to sit back and watch it unfold.

to forget all that you’ve said on that drunken night.

“myungjae and i are just friends.” matthew’s eyes snap up to meet yours. “we’ve always been just friends.”

“but that can change. i mean, i could help you! i’ve seen how much he cares for you, i’m convinced he likes you—”

“matthew,” you cut him off, “like i said, we’re just friends.”

he frowns. “i’m confused. just because you’re friends now doesn’t mean you can’t be something more.”

your breath hitches, and his confusion deepens.

“you really think that?”

it’s at this moment that matthew spots something different about you tonight, one he’s never been on the receiving end of to experience—your glossy eyes filled with strong, bittersweet yearning.

and he holds his breath before saying, “yes.”

the bass of the music fades away. the heat of the alcohol means nothing. matthew could care less about who he came with to this party.

right now, it’s just you two. 

“i don’t like myungjae.” your reveal causes matthew to frown. “i haven’t liked him for a while.”

“oh.”

you nod. “yeah.”

matthew has a million questions running through his head. what caused the change or heart? how long ago did you know that? is there something wrong with jaehyun and he never saw? 

“i—”

“when—”

he shakes his head. “sorry, you go first.”

“no, it’s okay. what were you going to say?”

“it’s just… i wanted to know when you realized that.”

a chuckle leaves you. “even before hanbin’s graduation party.”

“you could’ve told me! if i had known, i wouldn’t have kept pushing you to do something with myungjae.” matthew hides his mouth in embarrassment. 

you shake your head. “it’s okay. i didn’t tell you because…”

matthew notices your fingers fiddling with each other, an unconscious habit of yours whenever you’re anxious, and his confusion grows.

he doesn’t want you to think he can’t be trusted with your secrets, your stories, everything about you. after all, he wants to be your friend—your person—and how can he do that if you felt an ounce of shame to tell him that? he needed to let you know that—

“i like you.”

time stills for a moment.

for once, matthew doesn’t know what to say. 

“time’s up!” the door swings open, revealing gunwook and taerae whose grins are lopsided. “did y’all enjoy the heart-to-heart?” gunwook’s question is an innocent, light-hearted one, but the silence hanging between you two is nothing of the sort.

before matthew knows it, you let out a giggle. “of course!” in your attempt to stand up, you almost lose your footing, causing taerae to reach out to you. “sorry. i don’t know why but i feel a lot drunker than before.”

your slurred words only makes taerae shake his head. “oh, my silly lil alcoholic. let’s keep it going!”

the three of you exit in high spirits. yet, matthew finds himself stuck in his spot.

stuck in his memories.

stuck in the last conversation.

stuck in your words.

stuck in denial.

“yah, matthew! hurry up! we’re still playing,” gyuvin shouts from outside of the room.

because you’re drunk. you probably didn’t mean anything you said, like how you didn’t mean what you said at the last party. 

for the rest of the night, you continue to enjoy gyuvin’s birthday.

matthew attempts to do the same.

it’s been two months since that conversation. on the morning after the party, you admit to the group that you lost recollection of the events that transpired on gyuvin’s birthday. with how much the birthday boy drank, he found himself in the same boat as you. taerae says that it’s only best that you don’t remember anything from that night, mainly to save his pride.

but matthew remembers it all. he remembers how you looked at him that night, how your breath hitched, how long the silence was all before you lied.

and he knows you lied.

all it took was one sight of you on a date with jaehyun for him to realize that.

matthew couldn’t believe he showed up to the halloween party, not because he wasn’t the type to deny an invite, but because it’s being hosted by jaehyun.

he has nothing against him, really, but the conversation in the closet shifted everything; his dynamic with the boy, his thoughts surrounding your relationship with jaehyun, his feelings towards you. matthew prefers to keep his distance out of respect for you two.

that doesn’t mean he won’t talk about it with others.

“i really don’t think they’re together.”

“hanbin, did you completely forget what i said?” matthew shakes his head. “they were on a date.”

he finds himself in the kitchen dressed as saiki k with an almost-finished bottle of soju in his hand. while the rest of his friends were off somewhere, hanbin and hao, who were dressed in stitch and angel onesies, stayed with him.

hao takes a sip of his drink. “how’d you know it was a date? they could’ve been hanging out for all you know.”

“well…”

“see! you can’t even defend your point.”

matthew groans. “that doesn’t change anything. i’m sure of it. i mean, they came in a couples costume!”

“they’re matching with sungho, you airhead,” hao points out.

hanbin laughs before adding, “as the incredibles, too!”

their doubtful reactions causes matthew to roll his eyes. he chugs the remaining contents of his bottle before grabbing himself another. “i thought i could trust you two.”

“and you can!” hanbin tries to snatch the bottle but fails. “dammit. just be responsible, okay? it’s already hard enough dealing with jiwoong and taerae when they’re drunk.”

hao sighs. “and you know, jiwoong’s drinking heavy tonight because he got laid off. hoping ricky can help him out.” matthew twists the cap open and drinks straight from the bottle once more. “hey, i’m still saying you should trust what we’re saying. whatever y/n shared in that closet might not be a lie.”

despite their attempts to convince matthew, he knows the truth. there’s no point in trying to prove him otherwise. so for now, he’ll drink the night away.

“i’ll see you guys later, or something.”

“matthew—”

he doesn’t spare a second to hear their protests. as much as he loves his friends, he needs some space to wallow in silence. all he longs for is a quiet space away from everyone with enough alcohol to forget everything.

“matthew!”

this is the last voice he wanted to hear, especially at his state. he sees jaehyun and sungho together dressed in black and red.

“oh my god, you’re matching with riwoo! you’re saiki k, right?” sungho asks.

matthew forces out a smile before nodding. “yeah. incredibles?” he points at the logo on their chests.

“yep! you should take a pic with riwoo!” jaehyun suggests

matthew would’ve agreed any other day, but he couldn’t talk to him. he didn’t want to ruin his relationship with the boy just because of his emotions. “myungjae, i would love to, but i have to go.”

“are you okay?”

when concern paints jaehyun’s features, matthew is reminded once more that there is nothing to hate about him. he needs to get over this whole thing. if you’re happy with jaehyun, he should learn how to be happy for you, too.

a sigh leaves matthew. “yes, sorry. i just need space, if that’s okay.”

“of course. i hope you’re okay. do you want me to bring you to a spot where it’s quiet?”

matthew shakes his head before reassuring the host, “it’s okay, i’ll figure it out on my own.” and with one final nod from jaehyun, matthew walks off.

he passes through the crowd, exchanging brief greetings with familiar faces, until he reaches a hall filled with doors. most rooms were already occupied, and the last thing matthew wants is to know what they’re doing. all he cares about is finding an unoccupied room where he can drink the night, the confusion, the pain, away.

once he reaches the final door, he quietly begs the universe to give him what he needs. as he swings the door open, he notices that the lights are off, and that’s enough for him to believe it’s unoccupied. without sparing a second thought, he shuts the door behind him before letting out a sigh.

it takes him a few seconds for his vision to adjust. with the moonlight cascading over the walls, he’s able to take in his surroundings. as soon as he spots a shelf filled with poetry books, he realizes he’s in jaehyun’s room. matthew couldn’t believe what the universe is making him undergo. he found himself in the bedroom of someone he desperately needed to get away from, but he’ll make do with the last unoccupied space—or that’s what he thought.

“matthew?”

“holy shit!” he jumps along with his heart. as he clenches his chest, his eyes dart to the source of the voice—only to see his friend, his supposed something. your chin rests on jaehyun’s mattress as you stare at him; the same, glossy eyes he witnessed in the closet. matthew clears his throat before standing up straight. “sorry, i thought i was alone.”

you shoot him a tight-lipped smile. “no, sorry i didn’t say anything as soon as you came in.”

a beat passes.

“why… uhm, why are you sitting in the dark?” his chest throbs as he asks the question.

what if you were there to meet with jaehyun later in the night? or what if you had already met with him? maybe he doesn’t want to know the reason after all.

“needed to be somewhere quiet,” you answer. he watches you take a sip from a big bottle of vodka. “somewhere away from the party.”

if you need space, matthew is going to give you that. after all, you were in this room before he arrived. “okay, i’ll go leave,” he says as he turns his back on you.

“no, it’s ok—”

“it’s okay. you were here first, so—”

“matthew.” 

how your voice wavers is enough to stop him. from leaving the room. from wallowing in pain.

from abandoning you. 

he looks back, only to be greeted by the sight of you in tears. the moonlight shines against your figure, making you glow in the dark room, and he feels all resolve crumble.

matthew rushes to you. as he takes a seat beside you, he sets the bottle on the floor before his hands reach out to cup your face. “what’s wrong?” he asks as his thumbs wipe the tears.

you don’t spare him an answer; all you do is stare right back at him as the tears stream down your face.

matthew think’s he fucked up. was he busy with his issues to notice yours? did you need him? (as much as he needs you?)

yet, as soon as your hand reaches up to hold his, he realizes that this is all wrong; the distance, the physical touch, everything about this doesn’t respect what you have with jaehyun.

“i’m sorry.” he rips his hands away. “i shouldn’t have done that.”

his apology brings another flood of tears from you. “i thought we were friends.”

“we are friends.”

“then, if we’re friends, why couldn’t you give me an answer back then?”

matthew’s heart stills. “w–what?”

“i remember everything.”

the axis of his world tilts. 

“from the bathroom to the closet,” you sniffle, “i remember what i said, and i meant everything.”

all he knew then meant nothing to the present.

matthew can’t tell if the alcohol was affecting his senses. maybe he’s hallucinating, or his intoxicated mind is planting delusions that he wishes were part of his reality.

but he blinks hard, and he still sees you.

“please say something.”

matthew takes one breath. “i just… i don’t understand. i mean, i’ve been going like, 5 months, thinking those were meaningless words. even in the closet, you said you were too drunk. and you always claimed you had no memory the next day. i even thought you were on a date with jaehyun the other day.” as you scrunch your eyebrows at his admission, he takes it as a sign to explain. “i don’t know. i saw you two alone a few weeks ago, and i just assumed so.”

“we were just hanging out. there’s nothing going on between us.”

he shakes his head. “well, how am i supposed to know that? when i’ve been going through these months thinking all you said was bullshit until now?”

when guilt flashes in your features, he takes a moment to let his words sink in.

he watches you fiddle with your fingers before saying, “i just want to know why you did all that.”

“is it enough to say that i was scared? i mean, i used the alcohol as liquid courage. but in both times, i couldn’t tell if you felt the same, so, i panicked and said i don’t remember anything.”

one thing that matthew knows about you is that you were afraid to take risks—no, not in decision making but in relationships. he knew that the first time you held yourself back from introducing yourself to jaehyun, and he remembers when you finally approached the boy with at least 5 shots into the night.

“can you say something? anything?” you ask.

and all times, he understood your hesitancy. every time you second guess yourself, he’s the only person who knows when to act as your safe space or a pushing force.

“tell me again. tell me what you told me in the closet, i need to hear it from you.” but when your mouth parts open, ready to repeat the three-word phrase, he cuts you off. “when we’re sober.”

this time, he wants to know if he’s a risk worth taking—without the alcohol.

“tell me when morning comes, then you’ll know.” he sees confusion flicker in your eyes. “because i can’t risk anything when we’ve drunk our hearts out tonight.”

if there’s another thing matthew knows about you, it’s that you hate unfinished conversations. yet, a nod from you is enough for him to know why it would have to wait until tomorrow.

from there, matthew stands up before taking his leave.

all he can hope is that you won’t forget the next day.

when morning comes, matthew can hear a knocking on his door. he makes his way to the doorway, rubbing the exhaustion off his eyes, before swinging it open.

“i like you.”

his eyes snap open to see you, whose eyes aren’t like the other nights but with something he’s familiar with—hope.

“i like you,” you repeat, “and i’m telling it to you now, without the alcohol.”

this time, matthew doesn’t have to doubt your words. he doesn’t have to shut down his friends’ attempts to comfort him. he doesn’t have to deny what he feels towards you.

without saying anything, his hands dart towards your waist before pulling you close to him. shock casts onto your features. as one thumb finds its way under your shirt, etching constellations that you two will only know of, his other hand reaches to tuck your hair.

his lips meet yours. as his hand travels down to caress your face, your arms slowly find their place around his neck. somehow, everything feels right, almost like you two had done this before. yet, the taste of your lips is one he’s never had. as your nose brushes against his, he can’t help but breathe you in like you’re the last thing keeping him alive.

as you attempt to pull back, he tries to chase your lips. “matthew,” you call out his name before he draws you back in for another intoxicating kiss, one where the buzz of alcohol could never compare to.

“don’t,” he mumbles in between, “let me have this.” he pulls you into his dorm with ease and shuts the door behind you. matthew pushes you against the door with his lips still on yours, hands exploring your figure.

from there, you don’t protest.

maybe he’s wanted you much longer than you did. maybe he’s wanted you ever since you revealed your crush on jaehyun and he never allowed himself to dwell on his own feelings. maybe he’s wanted you since the first time he’s ever set eyes on you. 

but one thing he knows is that he wants you—much more than you do with him.

(and he’d never allow you to think he wants you any less.)

networks taglist: @kflixnet @k-labels @blankjournal @zumblrnet @kstrucknet

zb1 permanent tag list: @deinsleeps

story taglist: @seokkiez @loserlvrss @itaerae

@blandtako @gong-fourz @rentenwins @pandagirl753

[technoturian]

I have been thinking about this a lot. I drafted this and considered not posting it, but I read this post and I kinda wanted to add onto it and at the same time I didn't want to derail it with my own issue. Discussion of Neil Gaiman, fandom, and fatphobia below...

I was not a fan of Neil Gaiman. Not in a way where I disliked him, I just simply didn't engage with his work whatsoever. He was a non-entity to me. But when his big "Sandman" show came out I became aware of a certain incident in his show, namely the fatphobic depiction of the concept of "Despair". In an article about his work I remember Gaiman's characters in the source material had been described as fitting the aesthetic, "heroin chic". This character, Despair, the personification of human misery, was the only fat woman in the main cast.

I saw other fat folks call this out. I saw a direct response from him that, in my opinion, was smug and patronizing. But much more importantly, I saw flocks of people defending not his choice, but him personally. About what a feminist he is. About how thoughtful he is. We just didn't understand his genius. It was a misunderstanding. A misinterpretation. Because that would be bad, and he's not bad, he's good.

Some even went so far as to defend the choice as "better in the source material". You see, in the source material the fat woman personifying human misery was naked! It was better when she wasn't so sad, she simply scurried about like some hateful gremlin, shocking her victims with the grotesquity of her uncovered fatness. Isn't that better?

I researched the character and read a claim that her body was inspired by the Venus of Willendorf. The Venus of Willendorf is a historical artifact of a voluptuous woman. It signifies desire and fertility. Dare I even say, joy. And then someone allegedly saw this artifact and went, "I will name it Despair."

I was offended by reading that, but after doing so I found that I was so much more offended by the response. I mean, it's obvious that this was fatphobia, wasn't it? It was so clearly cut and dry. There was no kinder interpretation. And yet I watched as people bent over backwards, because he was so good! And he made them feel seen and so he couldn't have any prejudices that make that less true. And so when I posted about this whole situation I mainly posted about that response. Because that's what irked me most.

And after that, I decided I wasn't going to be a Neil Gaiman fan on purpose, rather than on accident. When it came to the man himself, I just rolled my eyes and put him into the box of "Not For Me". He could have turned out to be a holy saint in all other ways, for all I knew or cared.

But he wasn't a saint. He turned out to be a rapist.

I'm sorry if this comes across as a gotcha because that's the opposite of my intention. I'm not saying it to derail focus. I'm not trying to make it all about me or my pet cause.

What I'm trying to say is, people will now see things like Despair and take it as a "sign". It's going to be okay now to pick apart his work because now he's a rapist. But I didn't need to know he wasn't a good person to know this person's work wasn't safe for me. And I also knew it wasn't safe to say so, because everyone who tried to talk about how hurt they felt was told how wrong they were to feel that way.

At the same time, it's safe for me to finally vent about how this made me feel now, now that it doesn't matter because he's not good, he's bad actually.

I guess I'm just hoping instead of the usual pattern, where everyone bemoans the fall from grace and debates whether we "should have known" or "couldn't have known", people reading this can try to make space for a middle ground of criticism of the things you love now. Find that gray area somewhere between the top of the pedestal where everything the saint did was with the best intentions, and down in the muck where we should've known he was a rapist all along. Not because saints are secret rapists, but because there are no saints, and most people are there in the middle.

[lilhiroo]

Expanded on my Oppy design cause he is (unfortunately) my favorite voice

Design notes and general (spoilery) rambles about him below

x points his face downward, maybe even hunch at times, as he's trying to appear small and non-theatening to whoever is in charge. 

x always smiling, eyes closed, to seem as relaxed and approacheable as possible.

x upper back wings never open. They shield the majority of his back, and hide scars of previous betrayal. Lower back wings however he uses as he pleases 

x tail tuft for parallels with Witch

Complete henchman vibes

I've only been in this fandom for like a month or so but I can already see the general fanon of his is like some sadistic backstabber who is methodically planning everyone's downfall which I like... Heavily disagree with. All the voices aren't inherently good or bad, all can help or harm. With Oppy though, since a lot of themes with him involve betrayal and power, it's easy to paint him in more black and white views. In reality though he is extremely in the gray. 

He operates like this- side with whoever has the most power, take any advantages presented, (it's in his name, Opportunist) even if it means betraying someone whom you never even planned to betray. You have learned it's Everyman for himself, because you have been taken advantaged of yourself. You'll build and/or burn any bridge if it means you are safe and in control. It's a fear and survival based system which has some interesting parallels with Paranoid. Paranoid however is irrational and tries to predict situations while Oppy makes decisions/predictions in the midst of what he already knows about a situation. Both can be right or wrong!

Honestly I think he's like one of those experienced but mischievous henchman who's constantly trying to advise their lord on what advantage to take. But in situations like PatD, where the seat of power is suddenly vacant, they just fuck around and experiment with the power available, being an absolute shithead cause, hey! The opportunity presented itself! He doesnt care if it's "right" or "wrong" to take it. Once your back tho it's like "oh hey boss!! I wasn't doing anything :3". Guilty wet dog /affectionate

One last interesting thing is how the chapter 2 he spawns in is mainly one that is achieved by the narrator forcing your hand (and shifty if you already did damsel route). By that point you have committed to rescuing the princess, only then for the narrator to turn on you and force his will. Whether or not you wanted to betray the princess, she perceives your own lack of will in resisting as a betrayal, and thus she turns on you as well so she can survive. Oppy will suck up to the narrator at times cause even if he betrayed you, both you and him are now aware of the power narrator holds. and Oppy knows what the witch will do because he feels and thinks the same as she does. 

Anyway autism ramble over aUagahaehah I have so many damn thoughts and feelings about Oppy. He's not evil, just a pathetic ass henchman. I need to hit him with a rolled up newspaper /silly

[starlightsearches]

Hello~ congrats on 2k~ I'm absolutely delighted you're including writing for Hux to celebrate, I've read absolutely all of your Hux works a million times and I love them so much still!!! I'd love if you could write Track 7 for Hux please~ thank you ^-^

Track 7: Kiss on My List by Hall & Oates  - Give me a character and a fluff prompt (or give me free rein) and I'll write a short blurb or headcanons about it.

Together

AN: This is a second part after this request for those of us who can't handle angst 😬 and thank you for the request, pookie! I hope you all enjoy!! Comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated tee hee

Warnings: Mainly hurt/comfort whoops, language, heavy embarrassment for the reader, lots of talk about gossip, Hux is an awkward little freak, I made up a bunch of stuff about First Order bureaucracy, some brief mentions of sex but nothing too raunchy, and fluff at the end!

There are a lot of rules—both written and implied—when you're working for the First Order.

You're not sure where you'd find don't cry when you're on duty on either of those lists. But you know how dangerous the sting in the back of your throat is, either way.

You've never felt like crying on the bridge before, except for maybe from boredom. While there were tense moments, those were few and far between—like the stretch of empty space between stars.

And still, no battle or pursuit has come close to the horrible feeling that's smothering you as you stare down the back of the general's great coat.

He refuses to look at you, addressing all your orders to the viewport or the space above your head, his back to you whenever he can manage it.

There had been a senseless, simmering thrill that used to rush through you, before you had ruined everything—all those times you had caught the general staring, when you had watched the pink flush of blood crawl over his skin and imagined what the heat from him would feel like echoing from his hands, the press of his body, his wet, flushed mouth.

Stupid. Wanting him. Wanting anything, but especially this—to feel cared for, held, desired, by a man like the general. A man so single-minded, so dedicated to the cause his name was practically synonymous with the First Order itself, the unmitigated power that formed weapons and machines and the ruthless people who wielded them.

And why wouldn't he be ruthless with you? Maybe you were just one of many for the general—another subordinate, something to be used, designed to be discarded in the end.

You've made yourself thoroughly miserable following this trail of evidence to this conclusion, but it's difficult to find an alternative. Why else had he sent you away so soon after you had been together, had banished you from his quarters with the marks he'd left on your skin still stinging?

A voice you recognize too well interrupts your thoughts.

"Fall in. Uniform inspection."

Speaking of misery. Captain Cardall has arrived on the bridge, sharp eyes wandering, gaze always stained with a shade of loathing he saved just for you.

But you fell in to line, regardless, doing your best to school your expression into something neutral, if not a little resigned. You had given up long ago, trying to find some way to meet Cardall's impossible standards. No matter how much time you spent reading over the uniform regulations, he'd manage to find something you missed—or make up a new rule on the spot, couched in official language as an excuse to redress you, to take you down a peg.

Something he found necessary, although you couldn't imagine why.

You're near the end of the line, and so you're forced to wait, watching as the rest of your team is excused without comment, even Tawani, whose boots are so scuffed they're starting to look gray.

Whatever. Cardall and his pettiness and his stupid demerits were the least of your concerns.

It's your turn now, and you can smell the captain's breath as he nears—day old caff and the rotting stink of his soul. You snap to attention, eyes forward, doing your best to keep your expression still and stony.

The man circles, looking for a loose stitch, a wrinkle, a crooked cuff. You don't dare breathe, but you can't miss his deepening frown as he scans each and every inch of you, desperation practically oozing out of him.

Fuck. Had you actually managed this time? It's a small consolation prize on the shittiest of days, but you'd take the wins you were offered, even if they couldn't possibly make up for your losses.

You've celebrated too soon. Cardall's face juts toward yours, only inches from pressing against your skin and your stomach rolls with nausea. You can't stop yourself from flinching, from turning away from him and his glacial gaze.

It's hardly a millimeter that you've moved, but you've given the captain everything he needs. A pit forms in your stomach as the joy returns to Cardall's features, marked by the slow curve of his wicked smile.

And you know you've irreparably fucked up.

"Officer," he addresses you, two of his gloved fingers slipping into the space between your collar and skin. His touch is sickening, even through the leather, makes you want to run, but you're stuck, glued in place with fear. "What is this?"

Gods, if you had any luck left in you, any good-will from some unseen power, you'd drop dead right now.

It doesn't happen, though. You stay on your feet, even with the way your knees go numb. Everyone on the bridge has turned to watch. You think, although you may be imagining it, that the general's eyes are turned your way as well, the burn of his attention tracing up and down your spine.

"It's . . ." fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, "a hickey, sir."

You're half surprised Cardall doesn't start doing a little jig with the way he preens, brimming with excitement at this new and wonderful opportunity to humiliate you.

"A hickey?" he asks loud enough for everyone to hear—as if they weren't already engrossed in your torment—and you nod, his thumb just brushing the edge of the bruise you had tried to cover.

The general had done a number on you, truly. And left the galaxy's worst souvenir.

"Well," Cardall continues, finally pulling away from you to clasp his hands in front of his chest, "this is a serious infraction, isn't it?"

He takes his data pad from his assistant, a mousy young cadet who never utters a word. Cardall makes a big show of bringing up the uniform regulations, making a note on your personnel file that spares no details, narrating the description of the mark and its location in such graphic terms it brings heat to your cheeks.

You're immobile, in flames, your own personal funeral pyre lit with shame. And still, you can only think of the general, of the way he must be feeling, watching this display. Did his shame mirror your own, his cheeks pinked as he remembered the feel of your skin between his teeth? Or was he disgusted by you, by this connection he wished so desperately to sever?

"Now," Cardall says in a voice normally revered for executioners, "to whom shall I send the fine for damage to First Order personnel?"

There's a nasty snicker from somewhere outside your line of sight. Everybody was familiar with the rule about visible marks left on other officers—meant to keep younger and more volatile cadets from fighting, the threat of a fine pulled from their pitiful service stipends enough to curb most tempers.

Or to convince the cutthroat ones to be cunning enough not to get caught.

But there was a secondary consequence—officers strutting into work, bruises painting their necks and a smirk on their lips when they announced the responsible party. For the reckless among you, it had become a particularly bold way to announce a serious relationship, a sign of commitment.

Not an option for you, of course.

"I take responsibility for the damage, sir," you state, feigning confidence and hoping no one will notice the way your voice shakes, "I'll cover the fine."

A hum of disappointment, a rush of whispers. It's allowed, certainly, but will only increase the intrigue, the rumors that will follow you around for weeks, or even longer, if all other wells of drama stay dry.

Captain Cardall sneers, but he's left impotent in this, at least. He makes another note on his data pad and stalks away to the next officer in line, but he must be at least a little satisfied with his torment, given the hop in his step and the proud set of his shoulders.

You breathe, in and out, in and out, but just barely—too aware of your still-captive audience to allow yourself anything like relief. Instead, you blank your mind of everything that's just happened and turn back to your station, becoming a machine, emotionless and unblinking.

You spend the rest of your shift ignoring the unmistakable burn of the general's gaze.

Your time on the bridge comes to an end, and your replacement materializes at your side, finally releasing you. It's a quick walk back to your quarters, one you manage without tearing up or screaming in the halls, relishing the way your door sounds as it falls closed, sealing you safely from the shitstorm outside.

Finally alone, you fall back against the wall and take your first real breath.

Now you could break down in peace.

"Are you alright?"

It's mortifying, the way you jump at the whisper, the way your eyes—blown wide with fear—find him in the center of the room, watching you.

The general looks achingly handsome; you can't help but recognize it. High spots of color in his cheeks, his dark eyes flashing, and it breaks your heart all over again to have him here in front of you.

"General," you force the word out, then try for some semblance of decorum, straightening your posture like it could ground you in such strange circumstances.

He only nods, and though you'd never truly trust your ability to read him ever again, there is something about the expression he wears—brows furrowed and meeting in the center, eyes turned down at the corners.

The general is worried, and the expression is not at home on his face.

He must not want you to see it, because he's swift to glance away from you, eyeing the walls without seeing much, the fingers on one hand tapping at the palm of the other.

It's so different from the last time you were alone. Any awkwardness had been swallowed up by the heat of the moment—his arms wrapped tight around your waist, those hungry and desperate kisses that still made your knees grow weak.

You can't speak, and even if you could, you're not sure what you would say. Why had he come here? To berate you? To thank you for letting all the embarrassment fall squarely on your shoulders?

"I—" the general starts, then pauses, flashing his eyes to yours, "I would have waited for your return, but given the circumstances—"

The circumstances. That's one way to put it.

"Of course," you mumble, and you do understand. If anyone had seen him waiting for you outside your quarters, it would have only offered greater fuel to the blazing stories that were undoubtedly already traveling the ship, red-hot and sparking from one person to the next.

"Are you alright?" The general repeats his question, still watching, still unreadable, but there's a softness to his voice that's entirely unfamiliar.

You nod, barely, throat tight and sore, eyes ready to well with tears at this small sign of concern—that he had sought you out, despite everything.

The general presses his lips into a tight line, and there's something in the cant of his body, tense with forward energy like this small distance pains him.

"I've taken care of the fine," he tells you, "discretely. And the notes in your file."

You open your mouth to speak, to thank him, but no sound makes it out. There are tears now, pooling at the bottom of your lashes, but you won't blink, won't let them fall.

General Hux does step forward at the sight of them, the space between you shrinking, close enough he could reach out and touch you, if he wanted.

"And I'll take care of Captain Cardall, as well."

The words, and the severity behind them, drain the blood from your face.

"No, please," you caution him with a shake of your head, "it will only make people talk more."

Cardall would certainly not react well to any kind of criticism—especially not where you were concerned—and the well of bitterness inside him was deeper than any other you had known. He'd spread the story himself, no doubt, and the connections were easy enough to make.

But the general is undisturbed.

"I don't care if people talk."

Spoken with all the authority in the galaxy. You should have known a man like the him couldn't be cowed by a little gossip.

The general's eyes drop from your own, tracing the collar of your uniform, and he reaches out a hand, pausing just before his gloved fingers meet the skin of your neck.

"May I?" he asks, and you nod in confirmation, breath catching in your throat as he pulls your uniform out of the way, eyes the mark he had left on your skin.

He goes pink, cheeks rosy when he sees how he had stained you, sees it with the eyes of all the others who had witnessed the spectacle.

"I'm-" he flushes deeper, eyes bewildered, "You must know how very sorry I am for— for this."

"Don't be."

It's the polite thing to say, you think, in a moment like this one, but you mean it. Being with him had been worth all the pain.

His eyes flash, wide with surprise now, and you don't miss the way his fingers brush at the column of your throat, reaching for more of you.

"Really?"

His tone incredulous, so different from what you're used to that you breathe out a laugh, letting your own hand reach up to rest on his outstretched arm, just brushing at the bare stretch of skin between his glove and the cuff of his sleeve.

He takes another half-step forward, his hand moving to cup at the curve of your neck.

"I had thought—" he starts, but he can't get the words out, expression so wide and open, marveling at the touch of your hand.

He doesn't need to say it. You know what he had been thinking because those same fears had been yours.

How delightful it is to have been proved wrong.

You pull him closer, stroking your hand down the sleeve of his uniform and there's only a little hesitation in his touch when his other hand meets your waist.

General Hux smiles at you, really, and the expression is miraculous, has him glowing. Your heart stops beating.

He kisses you, slow, so very unlike the last time, and you feel that miraculous smile pressed against your own.

Nothing could be better.

[thollandneedy]

hiii can you make something inspired by the video of tom protecting zendaya from the paparazzi

Worthy- Peter Parker

A/n: Peter being protective, ugh (give it to meeeeee). Btw, thank you for the request babe 🥰

Warnings: Mentions of death, swearing, mentions of vomit, anxiety attack symptoms and aggressive approach

Don’t forget to share, like, comment and leave your ideas here

Bellah’s Masterlist 🪻

It was no surprise to anyone that Peter Parker was dating Tony Stark's daughter, but it was the first time they had appeared publicly at an event together. After some catastrophes caused by the Avengers after their last mission in Berlin, in order to redeem the act of motivating violence towards young people, Stark decided to hold an event to fund social support groups.

Y/n was used to having the eyes of the media, mainly because of her beauty, but Peter hated the media. As well as distorting many of Spider-Man's actions, calling him irresponsible and selfish, there would always be people who would point out the slightest of his mistakes in order to get 'likes'. The girl, on the other hand, had several controversies involving her name, but she never let that get to her. Her father had taught her to always ignore people who spoke badly and pointed out mistakes, because if they were strong enough, they would talk in person rather than hide behind a screen in a dark room with a deplorable life.

“Aren't you nervous?” Peter asks, finishing lacing up his black shoes.

“No. I just didn't want anyone coming up to me asking me about my sexuality again because I said in an interview that I'd kiss Madison Beer.” Y/n says, looking at herself in the mirror as she finishes fixing the pair of earrings on her ear.

“What if they ask me something? What do I say?” The brunette gets up from the cream recliner at the end of the king-size bed in his girlfriend's room, heading towards her.

“Just be yourself, love.” The girl turns to her boyfriend, who places his warm hands on her waist, pulling her close in one smooth movement. The girl opens an affectionate smile, allowing her pink lips to meet Peter's. “And don't get involved in any controversy. It's not enough that people suspect you of being Spider-Man. My father will kill you if anything happens, especially during the party.”

“You look beautiful, you know that?” The older man commented, looking at the girl from head to toe with a sideways smile. The dress was tailored, with long sleeves that were almost transparent and her body shaped by the wine velvet until it dragged on the floor with a small neckline, but one that emphasized her breasts.

“I know it.” Y/n laughs, making Peter roll his eyes and walk away.

Two knocks on the white door are heard, drawing the attention of the young couple who head towards where the sound was coming from, then open the door. The image of Pepper in a black dress comes into view, apparently impatient with how long they were taking in the room. The blonde put both hands on her waist, saying:

“Really? 10 minutes to put on an earring and get your bag, Y/n?”

“We're ready.” Peter defends. “Come on, sweetheart.” The dark-haired man in the black suit and gray tie holds out his hand to the younger woman.

“But my bag.” Y/n turns her body to the side, looking out of the corner of her eye for her bag, which had mysteriously disappeared.

“This one?” Peter holds out his other hand with the handle of the white bag positioned on the tip of his index finger, drawing a surprised smile from the girl.

“Come on, you two.” Pepper warns, stepping into the middle of the couple and closing the door behind them.

(…)

“How many minutes until we arrive?” Y/n asks the driver, at the same time as his eyes are focused on his cell phone camera so that his gloss doesn't get smudged in the photos that will be taken later.

“Less than 5” he replies, looking at her through the rearview mirror.

“Do you want me to go out holding your hand or do we go out one at a time?” The brunette asks, swinging his legs as a way of relieving the anxiety trapped in his chest.

“Relax, Pete. Let me go out alone first. I know some of my followers will want to take pictures with me since I told them I'd be at the event.” Y/n says, closing the transparent gloss and putting it in her handbag. “I don't want the same thing to happen that happened in January.”

“You turned down photos because you had a viral infection and put your organs out in the back of the car in that KFC bowl” Peter reminds her, placing one of his free hands on the girl's back.

“And they still called me an unsympathetic diva,” Y/n mentions, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes to catalyze the feeling of discontent after remembering the hate the media threw at her.

“We're here, Miss Stark,” the driver warns, opening the automatic door and showing the group of fans and paparazzi who were waiting for the couple at the entrance to the event.

Peter got out of the vehicle, being called by several people and blinded by the flashes of the paparazzi who insisted on putting their cameras in his face. The men with their caps back and big cameras asked

“Are you really Spider-Man?”

“Does Stark approve of your relationship even though you're poor?”

“Is it true that Stark Enterprises is related to the death of your parents?”

Peter clenches his jaw, takes a deep breath to himself, and walks past the men with his face closed as he hears these questions. Y/n, on the other hand, got out of the car with a smile on her face like a princess. The girl put her hair back and got out of the car without the protection of the security guards who were at the door of the event. The group of followers who were waiting at the railing to take a picture with the youngest girl held out their cell phones so that she could take a picture with them. Y/n waved to the fans who were a little further back, allowing them to be noticed too. The girl took the cell phones, snapped the photos and thanked them with a smile, and this was the key to the paparazzi taking advantage of the situation to punch her with questions and photos that were too close.

“Are you dating Peter Parker out of pity?” One of the men asks.

“I'm not,” she replies, as she takes pictures with the people clinging to the low railing.

Peter stands in the doorway, watching from afar how his girlfriend will react. Thanks to his powers, he could hear Y/n's heart and sense when she was threatening to have an anxiety attack. Her mouth might lie with a smile, but her eyes would never lie about her being. The brunette turned on his heel as soon as he heard the first question, turning back the way he had come.

“Do you regret realizing that what happened in Berlin wasn't deliberate? The damage was done by your father's group. People died.” Another says.

The group of photographers was getting too close.

“I have no regrets. That's why my father is promoting the event. To help those who are hurt.” She replies, finishing taking the last photo.

As soon as she lowers her head so that she can go to meet Peter, she is cornered. Several white lights take over her vision, and she finds herself dazed by so much movement. Her frightened eyes searched for Peter, but she couldn't find him. Everything around her was getting too hot from the sweaty bodies that were increasingly trying to get in touch with the girl in the red dress.

“Your father killed innocent people.”

“We already knew she'd be just like her selfish father. She's just a good girl in disguise.”

“Did you cheat on your boyfriend with actor Drew Starkey at your best friend's party in Los Angeles last month?”

“She looks like she'd do that.”

Peter stepped into the middle of the paparazzi, pushing them hard with the sides of his body, throwing his cameras to the ground every time he saw one of them being placed in his girlfriend's face. The older man seemed to have fire in his eyes, even capable of burning someone with his fury. The girl's heart was racing, and then a strong hand found her, pulling her close and taking away the whirlwind of questions and comments spewed at her. Her chest was heaving, feeling her lungs regain air, and pressing her hands against her chest. Peter hugged her close, running his hands down her back and directing her towards the door of the event decorated with gold, white and red balloons

“She always does that. Leaves when she can't answer something we ask. Classic spoiled bitch.” One of the men picks up his camera from the floor, wiping the lens on his gray blouse.

At one moment, Y/n was standing next to Peter, and the other she was being abandoned again at the door of the large party building. With strong, hurried steps, Peter spins his body around to throw a powerful punch at the man who made the comment, causing him to fall against the other gossip channels who were on duty at the scene to capture any slip-ups. The photographer grumbled, putting his hand to his lip and realizing that blood was coming out. With a startled look on his face, he glares at the brunette

“Call my girlfriend a bitch one more time, and I'll make you swallow your fucking tongue.” He says through his teeth, stepping out of the crowd again and into the building with hurried steps.

Y/n had her hands over her mouth, stunned by what Peter had just done. Her heels tapped against the lobby floor as her boyfriend patted her shoulder, trying to comfort her from what she had just been through. Parker was followed by two security guards, who, only after seeing the situation, decided to protect Y/n.

“You irresponsible bastards. Stark will find out about this.” Peter says loudly to the two men in black, who were now following them to the elevator.

“My father!” Y/n says in astonishment. “Peter, my father's going to find out about the punch you threw at the guy outside! Fuck, we're fucked. He's going to kill you. Shit.”

“Don't worry, darling. Anything to protect you is worthy.” The brunette pressed the elevator's ‘up’ button, hugging his girlfriend tighter against his chest.

[jujutsukatsuki]

Memories || B.K

|| in honor of someone sending in a hate mail about my writing and specifically part one of this work, which you don’t have to read to understand this. Here’s part two! This is dedicated to that hater! Listen to Memories by Conan Gray to get the full effect! ||

It had been six months since she saw him, since he broke her heart. Since he walked out the door like she meant nothing. She saw him on tv often, Pro Hero Dynamite, every week it was a report about how he saved the city or was accepting a new award for his heroics.

It wasn’t fair.

She stilled lived in the same apartment, mainly cause they had signed a two year lease so she couldn’t leave. She had finally managed to get herself to stop crying when she would look at the old pictures of the two of them.

She watches the rain out the window, a black cardigan pulled around her as she sees the sidewalks puddled with water. She takes a sip of her red wine as a soft knock breaks the gentle silence of the apartment. The cat she had gotten a month after he left her, gently meows and jumped up on the entry table next to the dark oak front door.

The walk to the door is quick from her cozy chair that overlooks the sidewalk. She looks through the peephole and sees red eyes peering through it at her. She jumps before she opens the door.

“Bakugou?” The use of his last name makes his skin crawl, he groans.

“I just.. can we talk? Y/n?” He looks at her, he can watch the gears in her brain turn as she looks at him. She can see how wet his hoodie is and she can’t help but open the door for him.

He slides in and goes to walk into the living room but stumbles over the cat.

“Who put a fuckin’ cat there?!” He grumbled before letting the cat sniff his hand.

She watches him cautiously, like she’s a wild animal and he’s prey.

Somehow they end up on the kitchen floor, Bakugou is wrapped in a blanket, his clothes put in the dryer. Y/n has her back against the cabinets as she watches him, her knees are pulled tight to her chest as if they were a shield guarding her heart from him.

“I miss you.” His voice is rough, she can see the remainder of the black make up he wore under his hero mask.

“I wish you’d stay in my memories.” She bites back, her tone is sharp, callous, calculated.

“I deserve that.” He agrees and runs his hands through the damp blonde streaks, the black cat named Starfire had curled up next to him.

‘Traitor’ Y/n thinks in her head as she eyes her companion.

“I hate what I did to you.. I was trying to pr-“

“So help me god if you say protect me.” Y/n snaps, her eyes watering from the confrontation.

“Y/n.. baby.. you don’t get it..” he tried to reason, his eyes search hers for any hope that he can explain.

“I get it. I got it when I came home to a half empty apartment and you sat me down and then walked out. I understood when you blocked my number. I understood when you had security kick me out of your agency when I wanted to talk to you.”

Bakugou closes his eyes, the alcohol has gotten to his head and he feels ill, or maybe it’s the guilt for his actions.

“You protected me all through out high school and college and I supported you when you were in hero school and starting out and you faced greater threats then whatever it was this time. You didn’t leave me then. So what was it Bakugou? What the fuck was it?!”

His last name on her tongue feels wrong, he wants to hear katsuki from her pretty lips.

“I.. I got scared. I wanted to marry you but I got scared. I wasn’t ready.” He whispers and moves closer to Y/n, he moves to lay on the ground, his head in her lap.

“Please Y/n… I’m sorry… please understand.”

She can feel the tears fall on the bare skin of her thigh, she thinks about the last few months that they were together in her head. The way he had gotten a call about a nine thousand dollar transaction on his card, the way he always would stand in the closet and be staring at something but hide it away when Y/n would come around. His mom texting and asking when they could go get their nails done even when they had never done that before.

Y/n looks down at the sobbing drunk man and sighs, she rubs the bridge of her nose and squeezes her eyes shut. The sound of the dryer going off rips her from all thought.

“I’ll be right back.” She gently maneuvers out from under him and goes to get his laundry. When she returns with the clothes, he’s still on the floor petting Starfire and whispering to himself.

“Your mom is so beautiful, I wish I never fucked things up.. I miss her every day. I know I ruined her but I could fix it.. make it up.. god..”

Y/n clears her throat and Bakugou sits up quickly startling Starfire who scampers off.

“You can sleep in the guest room. You’re in no condition to drive or walk.“

Bakugou stands up, keeping the blanket tight around him.

“Okay,” he agrees and walks to where the guest room was, he loved this apartment, remembered the day the two moved in like it was yesterday. He opens the door and it looks different. Y/n’s things are in here.

“Wrong door.” Y/n says as she crosses her arms over her chest.

Bakugou turns and opens their old bedroom. The guest room furniture was now in here.

“Why?” He asks and looks at her.

“Couldn’t stand to be in there.” She looks away.

He doesn’t say anything else as he goes into the room.

“Oh. Here.” She grabs his clothes from the kitchen counter and hands them to him.

“Thanks Y/n.” He smiles, his head feels gross, he needs to lay down.

“Yeah. Well good night.”

She walks into her bedroom and closes the door, she puts her back against it and slides down it, hands running through her hair.

Y/n lets herself cry, she sniffles as she wipes her tears on the black cardigan. It’s not fair she tells herself that right as she’s fully put back together he comes in here and fucks it all up, it’s not fair that he can ruin her own self image of herself and run back to her like it meant nothing.

She takes her sweater off and puts on a big t shirt and crawls into bed. Within a few minutes there’s a knock at the door and Bakugou peeks his head in.

“Y/n?” He says “I love you.” He finishes.

Her eyes flick to him and she jumps out of bed, the door flying open to see his full body

“No. No. No. No.” she picks up a pillow and starts to hit him with it, all the rage she had built up exploding out.

“You don’t get to say that! You don’t get to come here and ruin my life over again like you did already! You don’t get to make me believe that we could be something again when you already proved that I was nothing! You made me feel like I was nothing! Don’t you understand that you’re holding yourself back from finding someone you actually love?! I was barely surviving after you left! It’s not fair!” She screams at him, tears rolling down her cheeks like the storm that rages outside.

Her face is red and warm and her body feels like she’s laying on hot coals. Bakugou gently grabs her and pulls her into a hug, she can faintly smell the cologne he always used, the one she still kept in her bathroom. She can smell the beer on him as well. She breaks down in his arms, she can barely hold herself up as he strokes her back and holds her.

“Shhh, I got you. It’s okay.” He whispers and pulls her to the bed, he lays down with her on his chest. He keeps a tight hold.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.” He whispers over and over.

They fall asleep like that. When the sun comes up and shines in their eyes, they lay in the aftermath of the storm. Bakugou wakes up first like he always did. Y/n isn’t far behind when she feels gentle kisses on her forehead.

“Morning sleeping beauty.” He whispers

“Hi.” She muttered and closes her eyes once again.

Maybe they didn’t have to be what they were before, maybe they could be something better.

Bakugou gently sits up and holds her.

“I am sorry Y/n.. and I do miss you. Just please.. one shot..”

Y/n takes a deep inhale of the cologne that sticks to his body. She slowly nods.

“Okay.. one shot, that’s all you get.”

“That’s all I need. I won’t fuck up again. I promise.”

[hobies-princealbert]

I’ll always push the Hobie and Stallion Reader Agenda

It’s what he needs like cmon Black Punk British Nigga in like hot ass Texas or sumn with his Tall Thick Ebony Chick

It’s a Vibeee it gives “you can’t handle allat” and yk he definitely can

GOT EM LEGS ON HIS HEAD CUZ HE LOVE TALL WOMEN♡

MWAH💋

punk! hobie brown x stallion! reader |

°• y'all met on while you were on a girl's trip in candem. you were getting rowdy with your girls at one of the alternative clubs that the area was famous for. the scene was mainly punk and grunge, so you in a pretty all pink track suit surely stood out amongst the sea of gray and black.

°• you remember catching sight of hobie staring at you from your peripheral. you thought he was cute, plus he wasn't the only person staring at you. most eyes were on you the minute you stepped through that door. i mean look at you, how could they not stare.

°• your body was decorated in dazzling gold jewelry that looked radiant against your deep brown skin. you practically were practically luminous. how could he not go up to talk to you.

°• you could tell he was a little taken aback at first. probably it was your height, you were pretty tall, especially in heels. or the fact that you were so confident talking to him. sure, you were a little flustered cause he was cute ( translation: he was one the most gorgeous men you've seen), and he was a smooth talker that's for sure.

°• you didn't really give niggas your number like that, but could make exceptions. and nearly two years later, you were glad you did.

°• you two were an odd couple to say the least but you were similar in many ways. you both freely expressed yourselves through fashion. he, with his black leather, silver chains and spikes. and you, with your bright colors, gold jewelery and bling nails.

°• you both admired this aspect of each other. hobie loved to add to your jewelery collection. he would craft or thrift any jewels that he think would look great on you. similarly you loved to help him customize his fits, line his eyes and paint his nails.

°• both expressive and confident in everything you did. quick to stand up for others and raise hell when needed. you had spunk to you, he loved that about you. you could be hot headed sometimes but he didn't mind.

°• standing side by side y'all looked like a couple of giants. y'all turned heads everywhere you went. hobie had this laid back stride, and you with your pointed steps and sharp swaying hips. someone even asked if you two were runway model. to which hobie joked that he was briefly one.

°• speaking of hips, you had a great ass. you knew, randos on the street knew it, and especially hobie knew it. the man was obsessed with your butt. anytime he passed by you expect a quick smack. wearing jeans, his hands are casually resting in your back pockets. one time you were in the club throwing it back on your man, and he just stared at it awe. he's never seen you ass move like that before, he swore blacked out a bit that night.

°• on the topic of throwing it back, y'all loved meg thee stallion. singing her shit word for word, stank face and all. throwing it back on each other while her music bumped all through the apartment. similarly you love when hobie put you onto his shit too. mainly riot grrrl stuff. you loved how pumped it got you.

°• you absolutely adored your punk boyfriend, and he surely adored you two.

[sweetmariihs2]

Cedric's gray bangs: because of the potion or because of stress?

I see many people talking about why did Cedric's bangs turned white after the sorceress ball incident. Many people say it's because of stress. But is that a fact or just a known theory?

Many of us know that before the sorceress ball incident, Cedric had dark brown hair just like his mother. His younger self shown like this in some scenes and also in a painting that's still in the Enchancia castle's library. His sister had a slightly lighter tone of brown in her hair.

In the sorceress ball (Cordelia's big sorceress event and her birthday party), Cordelia used a small gray potion to make a hairstyle. It had hair-related magic. (Cordelia said the magic words "tresses updo-o")

we know that Cordelia asked Cedric to perform a spell for her entrance, and they suggested making a cloud of smoke to cause an impression. The potion (Cedric called it "smoxeum") made a purple smoke at first, when it was working well, but after Cordelia accidentally spilled the "tresses updo-o" in the "smoxeum" potion, the smoke turned gray.

Something that is relevant to mention is that after the gray smoke, Cordelia's hair was turned gray. Of course, she lost most of her hair, but the most likely reason for her losing most of her hair it's because of the amount of magic from the potion that fell on her. Cedric threw the smoke potion on her, so the magic mainly affected her.

Right after that, Cedric runs out of the curtains and goes to his sister. He is the closest one to Cordelia right after the potion was used, so I believe that the droplets were still falling. He approached too fast because he cared for his sister. All the people in the ball were far from them and the smoke.

But the smoke was already fading (it faded very quickly) and wasn't directly thrown at Cedric, so the effects it had on him were very small, staining only his bangs. When he reached Cordelia the smoke was already gone, but it had just happened. You know how smoke is, even if it fades, it stays in the air for some minutes, you can still smell it. And this is magic smoke, who knows how it works?

Valid point to make: Cedric walked towards her, so if there was still any smoke still hanging in the air, it would have hit his face first. The front. Of his hair. Coincidently. Not the back, probably not the sides, the front first. Before the magic disappeared.

Most of the potion was thrown directly on Cordelia but when Cedric arrived most of it was gone so the effects on him were small. Try to think of the potion as a boiling liquid, for example. If most of it is spilled on one person, that person will be the one who gets burned the most, but if small drops fall on people around them, they may get hurt too, even if less. The person who gets the most of the boiling liquid may get severe burns, while those who only get a few drops will get milder burns. I believe that something similar happened to Cedric and Cordelia.

After Cordelia's hair was damaged and turned grey, Cedric's hair was brown for small moments, while he panicked due to other people's judgement, and while he tried to help Cordelia and undo the effects of the potion. But that's something to take into consideration, he tried to fix his sister's hair with magic. This time the magic was done with his hands and magic words, not with any smoke, powder or anything similar. So differently from the potion, the spell was directed towards her and no substance would reach anyone, since there wasn't any. So no one would be affected by any smoke hanging in the air, or any liquid, or powder. Since the spell was aimed at Cordelia and because she was still, it only affected her. It didn't helped much. Her hair turned green and Cordelia ran to their father, Goodwyn.

What I want to highlight here is the fact that the spell, differently from the smoke in the air, was directly aimed at her and she was still so the spell struck her. Cedric didn't do the spell to himself or else his hair would also turn green.

Again, after Cordelia's hair was damaged and turned grey, Cedric's hair was brown for small moments. He tried to help Cordelia, and when he made it worse and Cordelia ran to Goodwyn, Cedric panicked due to other people's judgement, and when the camera focused on him again, his bangs were simply shown gray.

My theory is that his hair changed color slower than Cordelia's, again, because of the amount of magic that affected him. Cedric got there later than her, and his front reached first because he was walking ahead, and this is why only the bangs were affected. Maybe the spell was starting to fade when he reached her, and again the potion wasn't thrown directly at him, so it took some time to change, but it did. If Cedric had went to her just some seconds earlier they both could be matching. Or if Cedric went some seconds later, his hair would probably still be fully brown to this day. It was a matter of seconds, the amount of magic he was exposed to, the part of his body that reached the smoke first, everything contributed to that. And Cordelia's hair only turned green because he did a spell on her, but he never did the spell on himself, so his hair never got green like hers.

I believe that because of the time it took to change color (some seconds, compared to Cordelia), and because it was right after he was being publicly judged, most of the people in the fandom say that his hair turned gray because of stress. Despite being true that a person's hair can become gray due to a lot of stress, the process takes more time than just mere seconds to happen, and the stress has to be constant. Also, the stress will affect random folicles, not just ones in a specific area, like the bangs, or the side, or the back. It's not magic (pun intended). It's humanly impossible to change hair color in five seconds, specially if the cause is stress. Some research is being done and some fonts also claim that the popular knowledge about stress turning hair gray is even false, but I can't confirm any of that.

Here is an image I made, because images make anything easier to understand:

Recapping the order of events (the highlighted texts are important markings):

The potions were mixed

Cedric threw the potion on Cordelia

Cordelia's hair turned gray

Cedric, still with brown hair, approached her right after the smoke faded, so he was exposed to the potion still lingering in the air

Still with brown hair, he tried to undo the spell, but it was from incantation and not potion, so as long as she was still, it wouldn't affect anyone else like the potion would/did. He didn't aimed the spell at himself or else his hair would also be green by now

Cordelia's hair turned green because of his spell

Cedric panicked, and then HIS hair turned gray, slower than hers due to the amount of exposition

Something that is also valid to mention: Cedric's hair stain was very small, and at the front of his bangs, when he was a child. When he's an adult in present years in Sofia The First, his bangs are fully gray.

Cedric's teenage form is shown in the song "My Evil Dreams" for a small moment and it's clear that his teenage self had already the bangs fully stained gray like his adult self, they were just bigger. But that's just a haircut preference. His natural hair also was brown as a child and black after the teenage years, but this happens with many people, hair gets darker or lighter over time. When he was a child the stains even looked too white compared to his full gray bangs as an adult. Maybe it just got mixed with hair turning actually gray due to stress and age.

The reasons for his white stain getting bigger are unknown. At first I imagined if it had something to do with the slow time it took to appear at the sorceress ball, and I considered that in his case the spell acted slower and over time the gray took some more space and then stopped when it reached it's full form. But I'm not really sure of that, since the front of his bangs turning gray in Cordelia's sorceress ball was slow, in theory, because of the amount of smoke, (and it was quite fast considering it happened in seconds). The spell wouldn't take years to fully affect the part of the hair it reached, the smoke did it's work very fast!

Maybe Cedric/Winifred/Goodwyn tried to revert it again and again and the magic ended up damaging more of the hair, turning the whole bangs grey. But we can't know for sure. Maybe the spell just expanded for any reason.

In the end of the episode "Though The Looking Back Glass", the characters discover how to fix Cordelia's hair. Instead of making a potion, or another smoke potion, Cedric waves his wand and says the incantation "mixed-up potions, mistaken brew, grow my sister's hair anew!" (Which is silly because no ingredients or potions were required, just some silly words like "undo the spell right now!!" and it did lmao why didn't the characters thought of it before). What I want to focus on is the fact that he changed Cordelia's hair back, but not his. The spell was for her, but he stayed with his gray bangs. Maybe Cedric stopped being ashamed of them and accepted that trait as part of himself, finally. He could have got rid of them but he didn't wanted to, and I think that's beautiful.

The Sofia The First directors also said that his hair was inspired by Cruella's and it was a design choice. I believe that taking this trait from him would really look weird in the show. Cedric with plain black hair doesn't match him.

Final considerations: I love his gray bangs I hope he's never changed

[wisteriaiswriting]

Some stuff about Ana, Torb, and Asa reacting to their children making out with their tall and beefy boyfriend while he's holding them by the thighs

ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕖𝕟𝕥'𝕤 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟

Words: 639

She won’t say anything when she first catches you two.

Only making the slightest noise that you both can pick up on.

But depending on how she feels, her teasing might start at that moment or later.

Otherwise she’ll let you two run off with a warning about ‘being in the open’ (You both were in a booked, private room.)

Either way she will make plenty of comments about ‘keeping safe’ and ‘how she always wanted grandkids.’

***

Fareeha’s hair had come undone quickly into the session, which allowed it to fall around you, acting as a curtain. Blocking you two from the outside world, working with the blood rushing in both of your ears. Which stopped the sound of the door sliding open from reaching your ears.

When you finally pulled back, her hair let a small amount of sight to return. The clashing colour of bright blue against the gray of the walls sent you reeling back, turning your head to find Ana standing in the doorway.

“Mother!”

Ana only shook her head before stepping back, her hand was still in the doorway.

“Stay safe you two, I don’t need anymore young ones running around.”

Letting the door slide shut again before it locked automatically, causing you both to stay in silence as her words sunk in.

“Young ones, huh?”

“Absolutely not.”

Torbjörn starts yelling immediately.

Please don’t get him wrong, he doesn’t care at all about you two dating.

Just keep your romance outside any of his workshops.

His abrupt entrance scares you both so you back away, but not to the point of dropping her.

He’ll send her off to continue working on her own projects, but drags you to his own workshop.

Keeps you around the room to work with him for the rest of the day.

Surely this teaches you to do this outside the workshop.

***

Brigittes fingers curled in your hair, keeping you close and unable to pull away. Not that you’d want to anyways. Your own hands tightened their grip on her thighs, while her other arm stayed wrapped around your neck. As you two were so far in the moment neither of you registered the door sliding open, much less the person entering.

“Brigitte, Y/N, not in the workshop!”

Feeling even more blood rush up to your face as you both pulled away, her fingers falling from your hair onto your chest. She couldn’t even face her father at this point, with her face falling into your neck.

“DAD!”

Most of the time Kiriko notices when someone is near, so the chance of being caught is so low.

Either way Asa makes sure her presence is known, whether it’s on accident or not, who knows?

But she is so quick to scold the both of you, mainly targeting Kiriko. (Don’t try to escape her though.)

***

She was riled up, and even though you held her up in your arms, she kept control. Her nails scrape through your hair and over your scalp, slowly guiding you back towards the wall. Her voice purred through your ears, although she suddenly paused. Lifting her head as she turned towards the door, clearing hearing someone or something nearby.

“What's wrong now, Vixen?”

Her hands stilled on your shoulders, but unable to respond in time as the door was opened. Revealing her mum, who also didn’t expect to see… this. Turning her own head away as Kiriko jumped from your arms in a flustered state, even you didn’t dare to try make eye contact with her.

“Kiriko, what have I said about this!”

“Mum, you weren’t meant to see that!”

“Clearly.”

After a few seconds she turned back towards you two, scanning over your mostly clean state.

“I was going to invite you two out for dinner, but it seems you're busy.”

“No we aren’t!”

[blackcherryvelvet0909]

Lifeguard Required (Divus x GN!Reader)

Content Warning: Mentions of alcohol (none present)

Note: Reader is an adult staff member, implied to be a teacher/professor or teacher's assistant

“You know, sometimes I wonder if teaching was a mistake.” Divus took another long swig of his drink. Thankfully, it was non-alcoholic. “If this keeps up, I’ll be getting gray hairs soon.”

“I think you’d look good with them,” you said with a smile. “You will have the silver fox thing going for you.” 

Divus let out a short chuckle as he adjusted himself in his seat, leg now crossed over his knee. “Well, thank you for the effort to make me feel better.” 

“No problem,” you smirked as you brought your soda to your lips, “but I meant what I said.” 

As though to stray from the conversation of aging, Divus changed the subject. “You know, when I was a student myself, I became a lifeguard part-time during the summer months.” 

“Really now?” You raised an eyebrow at the vision of a young Divus decked out in red swim trunks, a whistle around his neck and a red float under his arm. “Why’s that? Strapped for cash?” 

“Not necessarily,” he said. “While the extra money was a plus, it was mainly to build up my resume. It wasn’t the most…remarkable thing back then. It was experience enough while I pursued my interest in fashion.” 

“Do you have any pictures of you from back then?” You leaned over your chair as you raised your eyebrows in interest. “I require evidence to believe your story - and I’m curious as to how you looked back then.” 

“I looked not too different than I do now.” He picked his drink up again. “I age like a fine wine~” 

“Mhm,” you hummed, which was then followed by a teasing remark. “A strong one, to be sure, but a little dry from all the stress and age.” You ended that statement with a sip of your soda for effect. 

A smirk to match crossed Divus’s lips as he watched you sip your drink. He looked like he was going to say something else - then a loud scream caused you both to flinch. You whipped your heads in the direction of the scream just in time to see Idia Shroud get tossed into the pool by Leona Kingscholar. A loud splash resounded throughout the area, followed by droplets of water raining down from the impact. Divus quickly placed his glass on the small table between you two before he bolted up from his chair. He looked almost ready to sprint forward and dive in after him - but he relaxed the moment Idia’s head burst out from the water. He gasped for air, hands coming up to wipe dark blue strands of hair from his face. 

“What the hell?!” Idia coughed as he yelled. His yellow eyes glared daggers into Leona; if his hair was still alight, you figured it’d be burning red. 

“So, you do have hair under that burning turnip.” Leona chuckled as he smirked in Idia’s direction, completely unbothered. “Mystery solved.” 

Before either could get out another word, Divus’s boomed out in anger. “Bad dog! Kingscholar, come here, now!”

“Hm?” Leona tilted his head in the professor’s direction. While he appeared unphased, his tail twitched in irritation. “We were just foolin’ around, professor Crewel.” His smirked appeared again as he grinned and gestured to Idia. “Shroud is completely unharmed, as you can see. Do you really think I would hurt him?” 

The sweet talk and charm wouldn’t work, you knew that. Still, Leona always gave Divus a hard time; you doubt the lion would listen to him much. Then, from the other side of the pool, Trein appeared. Though he did not yell, his voice was stern and level, as though scolding a child. “Kingscholar, come with me. It seems that, once more, we need to have a chat about your poolside etiquette.” 

You were unsure why Leona didn’t pick a fight with Trein, nor why he complied with his demands with little more than a grunt of annoyance. You saw that annoyance, that irritation, as Leona’s ears flattened against his head, snarling under his breath as he turned and headed away with the professor. Was there some sort of begrudging respect the young man had for the elder? Perhaps…you did hear once from Crowley how Trein beat Leona in a duel during the student’s freshman year. Ever since that day, when Leona lost his own challenge, he hadn’t been too much of a problem for that teacher in particular. You’d have to ask Divus if he knew anything of that incident later.

For now, you watched as Divus helped Idia out from the pool. The poor boy was soaked to the bone, black hoodie weighing him down. You quickly ran and grabbed a towel for him; once you retrieved the biggest you could find, you draped it around his shoulders. Idia didn’t say much in thanks, but he shot you the smallest of smiles as his show of gratitude. Divus placed a gentle hand on Idia’s back as he began him back inside, whispering words of comfort you could scarcely hear. Before they got too far, Divus looked over his shoulder at you and asked, “Can you handle things until I return?”

You nodded and gave him a small smile of your own. “Of course.”

Divus gave you one of his own before he led Idia away. That poor boy…no wonder he often stayed in his room. You glanced in the direction that Trein and Leona had disappeared, the two no doubt having a thorough discussion somewhere just out of sight. The other students present had gone back to what they’d been doing before their fun was disturbed. You sighed, thankful no one was hurt, but tired all the same. As you sat back in your chair and took another sip of your soda, a part of you wished it was spiked - just a little. 

***

A long sigh combined with an exhausted groan escaped Divus’s lips as he returned. Though he elegantly sat down in his chair, his posture was anything but. His head lolled back as he slumped in his seat, his hand coming to run through his hair and slick it back from his forehead. His tropical button-up - one of many designs of his for the season - was now unbuttoned and slightly damp at the back. He looked more casual than usual, for sure, yet also far more exhausted than before. You wished you could tell him it’d soon be over, but that would be a lie. The trip had another week to go, and then it was back to the classrooms. 

You offered Divus his drink, which he took with a slight nod of his head. You’d never seen him chug something so fast. A chuckled as he finally opened his eyes and looked at the night sky as though it were the cause of his strife. “I think you’re ready for bed,” you said with a small laugh. 

“I’m ready for a vacation,” he grumbled. 

“But we’re on a vacation?” 

“If this is a vacation for you, I dread what you do on the daily.” Divus set his now empty glass on the table as he continued. “This is work with a tropical backdrop; I need one away from children.”

“I think we all do,” you giggled. “A weekend getaway for the staff sounds lovely.” 

Divus seemed to scoff as he said, “You assume half the staff are not the children I speak of?” 

Now that made you laugh. The alchemy professor certainly had a point; a certain headmage and coach were maddeningly unhelpful for most of this trip. What would they do if you, Divus, Mozus, and Sam took off for a weekend or more? You honestly dreaded the possibilities. “That is very true,” you uttered as your laugh faded. “We can’t take them anywhere, can we?”

While you gave no context as to whether it was the students or Crowley and Vargas you were referring to, Divus didn’t seem to care. Either answer would be correct, in his mind. He nodded with a small ‘mhm’ as a few loose strands of white and black hair fell over his forehead. “Like untrained dogs, they don’t know how to behave.” He glanced over at two certain first years as he uttered, “Some more than others.” 

“Well, at least summer break is just a month away.” You sympathized with the small groan Divus let out at the reminder of how much time was left before then. “When that time comes, I’m sure we’ll all be thankful for the rest.”

“If that rest is too good, I just might quit,” Divus joked. There was some truth to that suggestion, however. Again, you didn’t blame him. Divus rested his chin on his knuckles as he turned his gaze on you. “What do you plan to do for the break?” 

“Mmn, I don’t know,” you shrugged. “I’ll probably just relax at home, watch movies, maybe order takeout - stuff like that.” 

“No plans whatsoever?” 

“Bold of you to assume those aren’t my plans.” 

Divus let out a small ‘hmph’ as he smiled. He simply looked at you for a few seconds, as though deep in thought. You grew a tad nervous, a little shy, under that gray gaze; you mildly shrunk in your own chair as you eyed him. “What?” 

“Oh, just thinking,” he replied. He certainly seemed to be plotting something, you thought. He straightened his posture as he spoke again, “What is your opinion on upscale restaurants?” 

“Like the ones you have to dress up for?” He nodded. “Um…I’ve never been to one before,” you chuckled under your breath, “can’t afford it with my meager salary. So, I can’t say I really have an opinion on them.” 

“I see.” Those cunning eyes scanned you from head to toe. A chill ran up your back under his intense gaze; you felt like grabbing your towel and hiding underneath. Before you could ask what he was doing, he said, “I think you’d look quite fetching in red.” 

“Uh…t-thank you?” Though a blush threatened to creep on your cheeks, you barely noticed in your confusion. “Where’d that come from?” 

“Again, I am just contemplating.” 

“Contemplating what?” 

“On exactly where I should take you for dinner.” 

If this were a cartoon, you’d have been knocked out of your chair by that statement. Your soda was left completely forgotten on the table beside you as you leaned against the armrest of your chair. “I-I’m sorry, what?” 

Divus seemed to find your reply amusing for the way he tittered. “Don’t tell me that’s how you respond to every advance you receive?” 

“I’ve…never received an advance.” You couldn’t help but answer honestly; I mean, what else could you reply with? Your head swum with so many questions that you could barely think of anything else. 

“Truly?” You noticed Divus’s smile had now stretched into a charming smirk. “It’s good to know I do not have any competition.” 

“Competition for what?” You didn’t mean for your voice to rise in pitch like that. Thankfully, no one other than Divus seemed to notice. 

“So, even you, a fellow trainer of pups, are blind to such simple things.” A chuckle rumbled in his throat and rib cage before he spoke again with a wiggle of his fingers. “Come closer.” With no reason to object, you complied. Divus leaned a little closer to your face, voice a volume above a whisper as he explained himself. “On the day summer break begins, and we’re relieved of our duties, I am going to take you to a celebratory dinner. You do not need to fret about your choice of clothing - I will provide it. All you need to do is let me pick you up, drive you there, and, hopefully, enjoy the food and company.” 

“This…isn’t with Trein or the other staff, is it?” you asked, nearly at a loss for words. 

Divus chuckled again. “No, pup, it isn’t.” His fingertip tapped the underside of your chin. “Do you understand?” 

Your nod was shaky, along with your words. “Y-Yes, I do.” 

“Good dog~” He pulled away from you in that instance. “I look forward to it.” 

He stood from his seat and took his glass. He then grabbed your can of soda, shook it a little, then placed it back on the table. “Your can is near empty.” He held up his glass as he offered, “Would you like a drink?” 

Somehow, you managed to regain your composure. “Yes, I would, thank you.” 

“Preference?” 

A smile tugged at your lips as he met his eye. “I trust your judgement.” 

Divus seemed to take that as more than just picking your drink. Though his smile held its usual charm, you could spy a certain softness creep into those silver gray eyes. He gave a small nod, “I’ll be back shortly.” 

With that, he turned and walked away. Even when he left, you couldn’t help but keep smiling. Even when a certain housewarden got into an argument with a certain twin, you wore that smile through your whole mediation of the situation. You loved your job, you really did…but summer break couldn’t come soon enough. Who knows - maybe a certain lifeguard might come to your aide.

[snippychicke]

It's Just Business Three

YOU THOUGHT I FORGOT? NEVER!

Look at that face! Look!

Fandom: One Piece (LA mainly)

Rating: Teen so far

Pairing: Sanji/Reader

Warnings: No real warnings, but god, I hope you like pining

Summary: You felt like you had known Sanji forever, considering your family had been the main merchants Zeff used to supply the Baratie. You had a small crush on him, but knew it was hopeless considering you were the one woman he didn't seem to pine over. 

It was fine. Or so you thought until you ended up on the Going Merry as a bookkeeper and supply manager. Being around him 24/7 was a lot more difficult than just a few days a week.  

(Please note 》°《 denotes a scene in the past while -*- will be a regular scene break. Because yeah, I like my non-linear story telling.)

Masterpost | Ao3

You weren’t unfamiliar with fighting. After all, merchant ships attracted pirates like honey attracted flies. 

But damn, the fishman pirates were really of a different breed. You were on the defensive more than anything, blocking blows and only able to land a few potshots in retaliation. You could feel bruises already blooming from where you got hit, the unsettling feeling of blood trickling from various wounds. 

But you didn’t give up. How could you when the others kept bravely fighting? Zoro’s blades danced in the air with unnatural graces against the other pirates, the man barely waivering despite the fact he still had his massive injuries from Mihawk. And Sanji was far more skilled than yourself considering he trained regularly with Zeff, his long legs proving to be far stronger than they looked.  

Except as much as they fought against Arlong's pirates, the two men were bickering heatedly amongst themselves too - which was not helping anyone except the enemy. 

“Will you two stop fighting!” You snarled as you ended up between the green-hair swordsman and the blond chef--both literally and figuratively. “Beat these assholes and then have at it for all I care, but god damn if we lose I am going to murder you both.”  

Zoro shot you a dark look, as if to silently scoff at the fact you could even hope to beat him - you couldn’t, but you would try your best, god damn it - before he rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the fishmen that were regrouping. 

Sanji however, frowned as he looked you over and stepped closer to wipe blood from your lip. “I told you that you should have stayed back on the ship, or even the village.” 

You glared at him. “The only orders I take are the ones I get paid for,” You shot back. “Just ‘cause you’re stronger than me doesn’t make you my boss.” 

His frown deepened. "That's not what I meant. I just mean you'd be safer back on the Going Merry."

"We all would, but that's not why we came, is it?" You hated the fact he had been right about Nami, but you hated Arlong and his crew more for what they did to the young woman. You had gripped Sanji’s hand tightly when you heard Nami softly ask Luffy for help, full of rage on her behalf for what the bastards had done. He had squeezed back as he took a drag of his cigarette, as if silently promising that you would get revenge on her behalf. 

"I thought you said something about fighting them, not each other," Zoro yelled out, three swords holding back the pirates while you and Sanji argued.  

"Mind your damn own business!" You and Sanji snarled at the green haired swordsman at the same time. 

You were fairly certain you heard Zoro curse you both, swearing something about waiters and bossy women. You ignored his comment as  Sanji darted for one of the gray-skinned fishmen, and you followed suit. 

-*-

It had been a knife in your heart when Sanji greeted Nami so warmly, sounding so elated to see the red-head. 

Yet the fact she passed him and went for Zoro and Usopp made you cackle heartedly despite yourself, going as far as leaning on the dejected man as you tried to calm your laughter. (The mix of the battle high and relief it was over may have made you a bit unusually giggly.)

“It’s not that funny,” He grumbled, though at the same time his arm wrapped around your waist to help steady you. 

“I’m sorry,” You wheezed, pressing your head against his shoulder. “You just… and she didn’t even pause. My poor boy, I don’t think she’s that into you.” 

Sanji was quiet as you calmed yourself, though his arm never left your waist, or even loosened the smallest bit. “Sometimes a woman requires a bit of wooing,” He defended once your laughter died away, making you snort. “Nami’s been through a rough time, so of course she’d run to her friends.” 

You tried to keep the smile on your face despite any trace of humor draining from your heart. He was in deep this time, wasn’t he? 

It was probably a good thing you’d be parting ways, so you didn’t have to watch him try to woo her, as he said. Even if it meant you wouldn’t see him for who knew how long. Or the fact the idiot could die out on the open sea and you would never see him again. Never see the humor in his bright blue eyes, lips twitching in a smile. Never be able to bicker good-naturedly with him, arguing just for the sake of arguing. Or just feel at home with his casual touch--he was one of the very few who you felt safe enough to indulge in that need for physical touch.

Sanji spoke your name softly, drawing you from your thoughts. “You okay?” He asked as you looked up and was able to see worry pinching his eyebrows together. 

You offered a weak smile. “Yeah, just tired all of a sudden. Adrenaline must be wearing off.” 

The concerned expression didn’t leave despite the soft smile on his lips. His thumb rubbed along the curve of your wait reassuringly as he pulled you closer. "Once Luffy's finished, we'll head back and I'll make a big meal, okay? Just hang in there until then. 

Oh, it wasn't the immediate future you were worried about. But you nodded your head nevertheless, and tried to enjoy what short time you had left with your friend before you parted ways. 

~*~

Despite your obvious exhaustion, you assisted with preparing the celebratory meal that night, for which Sanji was thankful. You weren’t exactly one of the line cooks of the Baratie, but you knew enough that he didn’t have to worry once he explained his initial idea of a large stir-fry. 

He was looking forward to more of this; the adventure, fulfilling his dream of finding the All Blue, Zeff’s dream. But also sharing it all with you. Seeing you more than just a few times a week, stealing short moments between both your duties and his.  

The two of you had always been close and had shared a few small (and some not so small) adventures through the years. He couldn’t lie to himself, his feelings for you were far from platonic, but the problem was you thought you knew him too well and never believed he was being serious as he tried to flirt. No matter how close he held you, or how many times he pressed kisses to you head and hand while calling you sweetheart, you thought he was just kidding. That it was all platonic. 

He wasn’t sure how you were going to react when --if-- you ever realized the truth.

》°《

Zeff frowned as he looked down at you and Sanji, both of you out of breath and covered in sweat as you sat back to back. "You two shrimps are pitiful, really."

You grumbled as you leaned against Sanji, trying to catch your breath. He had been beating your ass fairly, though at least you had given him a work out. 

"We've been doing this all afternoon," Sanji shot back, still full of spit and vinegar in his small body despite everything. "Let her have a break, and I'll fight you instead." 

You moved to look at him, confused. He… was defending you? After the fact you were in this position because you had been fighting in the pantry? 

Zeff laughed, his arms crossed in front of his chest that was probably bigger than both you and Sanji combined. "You think you can take me, little eggplant?"

Even with one just a thin pegleg, you knew to challenge Zeff was a death wish. Your parents had told you stories of Red Leg Zeff of the Cook Pirates, likely in an attempt to make you behave when aboard the Baratie.  

Yet despite knowing how harsh Zeff truly could be, Sanji only glared harder. "I'd rather take you than force her to do any more training."

Zeff smirked, though his expression softened.  "You little shit. How about you go scrounge up some lunch for you both and take a rest. And maybe next time you won't be so prone to starting fights." 

The captain-chef turned and left you and Sanji alone on the deck. You groaned as you tried to flop down on the slatted wood, except Sanji wrapped an arm around your shoulders and kept you sitting up. How he still had any energy or strength was beyond you. You felt boneless. Or maybe more like all your bones had been shattered.

"You heard the old bastard," Sanji said as he pulled you up as if you were just an overly large flour bag. "Let's go get you some food."

"God, how do you have energy?" You whined as he helped you back inside. 

"I train at least twice a day, more if I piss the geezer off,” was his grumbled answer. 

What little energy you could spare was used to have a flash of empathy for him; you couldn't imagine having to do this twice a day. "So, you’re Mr. Fancypants in the kitchen and on the battlefield." 

He shot you a smile that looked a lot like Zeff’s when he was somewhat proud of something. "Heh, guess you could say that." 

[cocojimin]

Flaws&All

↣ pairing: idol!yoongi x gn!reader ↣ genre: established relationship, slight angst, fluff ↣ warnings: alluding to depressive states ↣ word count: ~600 ↣ song inspo: Beyoncé - Flaws and All a/n: hello all! this one-shot is apart of my new series, 'Song Shuffle One-Shots' or SOS where I shuffle my library and write based on the song. hope you all enjoy the first installment.

You catch me when I fall.

Accept me, flaws and all.

And that’s why I love you.

Loving Yoongi has never been an easy road, but it is a road you’d happily trek down without question. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Coming into a quiet home was not often a marker for something being amiss. Usually when you got off work or back from an outing, the house would mainly be darkened, save for soft light spilling from underneath a certain door.

Yoongi’s Studio.

Tonight, however, there was no signs of him within the walls of his personal domain. The door was slightly cracked, computer off, no sounds of keyboards or groans of frustration.

Moving slowly through the dark home, you brought light with every wall you touched. Light began to flood the various rooms in search of your lover.

Living Room.

Kitchen.

Studio.

Bedroom.

Brightness revealed the bed, completely made, save for a heap of gray occupying the same side Yoongi usually sleeps on. This particular scene wouldn’t have been a cause for concern if you didn’t know Yoongi inside and out. Around this time, he would either be in his studio finishing up his latest obsession or in the living room, complaining about the show he purposefully turned on.

Head tucked under the gray throw blanket.

Feet incased in the fabric.

Yoongi was in the fetal position, so cocooned from the outside world that he didn’t register you being home, or the lights being turned on. Pulling back the blanket, you finally locked eyes with your lover. Red rimmed and tired, he passed you a soft smile, muscles slightly relaxing as he didn’t have to hold his protection taunt anymore.

“I didn’t hear you come in. I’m sorry about that”, Yoongi spoke through a puff of air.

Carding through his hair, you caught his wandering gaze.

Yoongi has bouts where he falls into himself. 

Drowning in inconsistencies. 

Sometimes silence is key, or maybe comforting words. Other days its soft touches and whispers of incoherent thoughts. Words jumbled together that spell out ‘I Love You’ in every language imaginable.

Tonight, you could tell he need to be grounded through touch.

“Why didn’t you call me, honey boy?”

“Didn’t wanna bother you, you know how I get”, he says as he leans into your touch. “I thought doing this might help”, he chuckles humorlessly, “I just look silly though, don’t I?”.

Shaking your head, you fully unwrap him in more ways than one. Taking in his flaws and insecurities without passing judgement, knowing they all combine to make the amazing human you know and adore.

“You know you can call me for anything”, Yoongi begins to interject, but you quickly stop his incoming ramblings, “I don’t care if you just get a papercut or you just needed me to keep you company, I’ll answer.” Yoongi’s small smile let you know he understood exactly what message you were trying to get across in a less blunt way.

“Come on, honey boy”, rising to your feet, you outstretched your hand. “Let’s go wash the day away, I’ll let you use my new scrub that you like so much.”

Yoongi giggled.

His face lights up as he takes your hand, thanking whatever powers may be for sending him an angel. No matter how many times he sits and ponders on how you continue to love him despite him lacking on days, he can’t figure out what you see. Your belief and love for him never wavers as you continuously reassure him and shows him that he is worth loving.

And that, is why he loves you.

[rakubalka]

How Time and Fate playing chest with one specific mortal as the prize caused more than a few timelines to spawn . And how the og timeline would have looked

@karlithemuse sorry it took so long it turnned longer than originally planned

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

We start with Astaroth(I'm calling him Time to save time(pun not intended)) . That include his motive , plans and ending result

His motive is simple , he wants Sage(the Jusus like oc who is Asta’s previous life) to come back to life . So he starts planning ways to try and do it . And what his planing makes him do is look into the futures and try and find one that allows for any chances of Sage’s resurrection . While looking what does he see ? Asta . The same Asta whose body is makes him a perfect vessel and host for any and all spirits and devils exactly because of his lack of mana (having foreign mana in ones mana veins/stream can cause serious medical implication and not wanting to deal with that most spirit at least search for someone with a very compatible mana or at least someone sharing the same base element , Asta’s lack of personal mana means he can act the role of vessel for even the most rare type of element with absolutely no problems) . So what does Time do again ? Starts looking for ways to make him his vessel of course . 

Unfortunately for Time , og and most timelines Asta only makes guaranteed contact with 2 demons . Those being a genocidal maniac who will end up killed and his brother with whom he will reunite (Of course there is also the husband , however said husband refuses to gamble the lives of those he cares about so no more devil summonings for him to be expected) . So Time’s chances of being summoned and offered a contract are zero .

And you would think any sane person would give up after that , unfortunately time has not been sane since Sage’s death . So he takes the next “rational” step to resurrect Sage . That being create a situation that either forces Asta to make a contract with him or take over Asta with strength . Problem however is that Asta uses his brain and is not just going to agree on a contract with an unknown devil , especially when he already has multiple different contracts with powerful great spirits (a few of which he also follows as a believer of theirs)

So what does Time decide to do ? Take Julius and Zenon offer for a contract and start working from there . Which is actually the reason the “canon” we know starts

One of the biggest changes he makes is being sure Zara Idiale dies , wich jokes on him he created a martyr people even thousands of year in the future will look up to

Also i think i should mention this but whatever “future sight” Zenon has is fundamentally not perfect . Mainly because 1) why should Time show to those idiots why Asta is so valuable and 2) reading the future is not Time’s strong suit but rather Fate’s

Now we have Fate and her meddling with how events go and play out .

A surprising amount of events were actually accelerated because of her . Asta getting Libei’s grimoire on the spring equinoxes for example . Accelerating the elf situation with Asta being stronger than in the og timeline .

And let me just say , so many people were born because of her medeling . And so i will be counting them :

Yami - he wouldn't even be born and on the off chance he was he would have stayed in Sun Country if not for Fate using her connection with Ocean to get him to clover

Dorothy - She wouldn't be born for at least a few hundred years

Fuegoleon - Only Inferno(aka Mereleona) was supposed to be born in that day and age but Fate convinced Forest Fire to also get a mortal form

Finral - Space wouldn't have even be mortal if not for Fate’s request

Vanessa - Fate knew she needed to be in moral form to do more than only create opportunities so she made herself mortal

Gray - Change had to be pushed a little but it happened in the end 

Charmy - yet another being that would be in Sun Country if not for Fate’s meddling , granted however the dwarf-human couple who were trying for a baby wouldn't succeed if not for Fate meddling so at least they got a child out of this

Yuno - Spade wouldn't even have a heir , the High priest Of Air would be a different person and Asta would be a weaker if things were like the og timeline with Yuno still getting cleaned of his would be life as half-elf if not for Fate screwing his reincarnation a little , in a result of not properly completing the cycle Yuno has two magic types

Noelle - While the soul was ready for reincarnation there simply aren't parent powerful enough to give a proper vessel , in fact the closest to come to it would be Pechiks’s child

There are probably other people who I'm forgetting at the moment , but you get the vibe . A lot of people are missing of what we know and that changes how the story goes a lot . And in all honesty it could be an AU of its own with how different it is .

So lets start :

First of all , with Conrad not having his fall orchestrated by what is one of the core principles of the universe makes it so he is also alive . And wanting to make his good friend Zara's life a little easier (and also harder to discriminating against him) he gets given the position of squad capitan . And with no Time meddling Zara idealle lives and still inspires Charlotte , Merolona and Jack to become Magic Knights in his footsteps . With said future captains joining his squad , that also got him the niche the bulls have . Demanding a name for the squad the two of them and Lovilia come together and decide on White Phoenix with white in honor of his good friends’s squad color and phoenix in honor of the immortal bird symbolising the rebirth Zara is currently causing on the whole system .

Years go by and Conrad wants to retire from active duty to build a home with his wife and focus more on his political career , so he choses Zara as his successor . And considering how many small factions and one big faction (The Vermilions) supported him enthusiastically and also having the Shamrock in agreement of his choice , the transfer of title and power was largely uninterrupted even if not exactly everyone was happy about it . But that's how we get Zara Idealle as the 28th Wizard King and the first peasant Wizard King so down in history he will go .

However , as I'm sure you remember , the crowning of a Wizard King means the dissolving of the old squads and the creation of new ones . And in an ironic twist of fate around half of the current captains come from his squad . That being Mereleona captain of the Crimson Lions , Charlotte captain of the Blue Roses , Jack captain of the Green Mantis , William captain of the Golden Dawn , Henry captain of the White Bears and of course Morgen and Naucht of the Black Ravens .

Because do you really think that without Yami to distract Morgan he isnt to put his whole undivided attention on his brother ? Yeah no . Nacht barely gets his demons before their family gets busted by Morgen the moment he hears them trying to let his twin in such danger . He even uses his conections to make sure those who dare even try to hurt his twin face consequences . And if someone says this “isn't like canon” , name one mentally stable person Yami is friends with . There isn't . The man is a catnip for mentally unstable magical prodigies . So no Morgan isn't a saint , the man is far too bloodthirsty .

There is also some small thing happening in the au causing differences in it . Like Gauche and Mary being taken by an uncle of theirs after their parents death ,  that uncle being Conrad . It does make it so gauche gets it into his tick head that there are people who care for him . And also after getting his grimoire he gets scouted by the Ravens making him a member of theirs and then at autumn come for the official magic knights exam and becomes part of the White Bears (jailers) and starts developing a crush on his squad’s vice-captain , that being Gordon .

Another small thing that adds up is the lack of Fluedoleon . More specifically , without him Mereleona doesn't have someone who she can throw the title and responsibility of The Heir Of House Vermilion to . As a result Mereleona is forced to stay in the human realm making her a lot weaker than she would otherwise be . Then there is also the fact she and Charlotte also meet a lot earlier in life . Again Charlotte doesnt find she has a crush for quite a while , and is in a arguably worse position than the one with Yami . Nor because of densens mind you , as Mereleona caught the small building feelings and returned them almost immediately . The problem lies in that even with Leopold existing , Mereleona is still expected to marry and continue the family line as its head . So the political fall out of the heir of a royal house turning gay was to be dealt with .

And the resulting rumors were not kind to anyone they touched , but the rumor that grossed Mereleona , Charlotte and Jack is the one of the 3 of them sleeping with each other . Jack is especially grossed out as 1) Charlotte is his big sister in everything but blood as far as he is concerned , 2) Mereleona is one of if not his best friend , 3) Mereleona is his sisters gf and finally 4) He currently dating a silver haired birdy royal so he has 0% interest in the burning lioness .

There is the fact that Rebbeca(Remember she is 1 year older than Asta) having the financial stability and also help from other adults to look after her siblings follows in her uncle and cousin steps in becoming a magic knight (Conrad and Lovia get even more kids to look after ) . She joins the Crimson Lions as a rune and trap magic specialist and also In no time she earns the nickname “The Arsonist” .

I'm probably forgetting other things and people at the moment but we're moving .

So we finally meet Asta . For a difference of the world in which Fate meddled with , with no Yuno Asta isn't motivated to be a magic knight . Mainly because of the Light Triad it's only Yuno that is motivated by fame (Everyone deserves flaws and even then in this situation is less of a flaw and more just a small quirk that helps him improve) so Asta doesn't get pushed and continuously motivated , as a result Asta is actually weaker physically and not as far in his medical studies with no rival and brother around . It's still a happy and fulfilling life for him to be a small village hunter and doctor and when the situation calls for either a “true magic knower” or a hero to help those in the surroundings . 

Fate’s madeling did however make it so Asta has a grimoire so he is clearly seen as an adult , because that's what grimoires are to the population , an identification card that means you're at least 15 . With no Fate messing tings the chain dude doesn't come , ands even and if he came Asta wouldn't be in or around the tower as he 1) suspected he won't get a grimoire so why make an idiot of himself by going there and 2) even if he got a grimoire the book would come to him anyway so why waste time when he can do minute preparations and hunting for the party that will happen anyway . So there was never a need for Libei to come out and allow himself to be used by Asta . Istedea few weeks later he is visited by a goddess , and not just any goddess but one he follows as his teacher . That being Divana who wants to make a contract with this follower of hers so had looked after for a few years already . So she gives him a task to accomplish toi cement the contract . With that task being “create or find something to give to me and only me” (fun fact the reason it might fell or look similar to a contract between a human and demon is because it's the same , more specifically this is one of few rituals and “true” magic that survived even with the grimoires existing , it did fall out of fashion with spirits overall however as grimoires made it a lot easier to make said contracts happened and also make sure they are equal ) . And what did Asta do ? He carved a mask out of birch wood of a sighthound , symbolising her and what she is the goddess rather well . So the contract was made with both parties rather happy , and with Devana starting to mentor in the use of magic . More specifically wind magic , and also how to deal with the resulting mar induced migraines . Thankfully at hw only need to figure how to power up the anti-mar medicine and not how to make it so small mercies . He also rather quickly becomes an even and if tumbling from time to time still even more proficient hunter .

Things happened however and  there is a sudden influx of Flame Boars who creating some serious problems for the local ecosystem , Especially since while migration can happen the amount he had to deal had suddenly been upped by the dozens and he could barely keep up . Thankfully the chef of Rayaka wrote a letter to his nephew complaining about the monstrous boars that are mainly detail with by Asta and some help from other hunters but even they java problems keeping up ,  so he also nudging his nephew yo replay at least one of his debts to the kid who has been rescuing from the local leshy since he was an apprentice hunter . So Magna , having read the letter and having heard capitan Charlotte complaining about the idiots in charge of the food budget because of whom they might need to cut off meat for both of the squad . So he fills the documents for both a subjugation mission and a possible business deal and hands it in . To no one's surprise it gets approved immediately and he gets handed an ice elemental mage , money to buy the meat and even a few magic items to help transport it back . What he wasn't expecting was for captain Jack to decide a hunting trip would be fun . So they go on a hunting trip .

When they finally get to the place after going to Rayaka and visiting the chef they get oriented to go to Hage as 3 of the most capable hunters were there and taking the brunt of the migration . So they go there except Asta isn't there but only his sister and apprentice Recca who was renewing the traps , the also witness caching a few of the boars with said traps with a little help from a swordsman that has been hanging around for a few months already that has been in exchange for helping with the boars allowed saltare in the village  . After this they get instructed to go to Sosshi as they requested help not being able to keep up with the sudden influx of boars and Asta eager to help only took food for 3 days and as good as he is in managing it its been 5 days and they have meat to get rid of as fast as possible least it rots as it is summer . So they are handed food for both him and himselfs , threaten to finish it or at least eat some of the meat and are sent on their way . Jack laughed at the situation of them grown magic knights  commanded by a 13 year old that's half his size and goes along with it .

So in no time they get to Sosshi and the surrounding forest . They accidentally meet a swarm of boars who immediately attack them , and are beaten in no time by jack after he sent Magna to scout in a way of trying to train his vice-captain in scouting . Unfortunately while running back he almost gets his head sliced from his body by Asta . Asta who just stopped before accidentally committing manslaughter before the authorities . 

Asta immediately starts to apologize to Magna . Jack is ready to commit mured , because that's his vice-capitan . The ice mage is hyperventilating on almost having her superior die . Magna however is in the most shock , as he just and even now can mar Asta with mana . 

Magna immediately starts asking Asta of when he got his magic and where is his grimoire . Asta had to deliver the news of the mana being that of a spirit he made a contract with , more specifically one of the goddesses he follows . Jack is still suspicious of the “wind mage” but they don't have time for more speaking . Why ?

Because Jack and Asta felt the creation of an ice shield too big to be from one of the villagers and the lack of fire signatures can only mean someone is either taking the village hostage or directly attacking it and leaving no witnesses . So the group immediately bolts .

Before them was mist but with 2 hunters and one goddess of hunting navigation was easy , the brier even more so as one slash from Jack and it was down . After that it was a lot more straightforward . Asta even proved himself very capable in Jack’s eyes with his skills with the bow and was offered to take the magic knights exams in a few months if he wanted . Then they fly back to Hage (with Asta on magna’s broom as he is still rather new to the whole flying ting) 

Having made a deal for most of the boar meat and hides with sister Lily as the main merchant(useful noble society skills she still uses) and attained the “bandist” the Magic Knight leave to report and give time to Asta to think . He hesitates for a while but after talking with a lot of people , he decided to show up and see how he does . He is chosen , he is chosen and if not , oh well .

—------------------------------------------------------------

As this is getting very long I'm posting this(also why is it around the same lght as a chapter in the book i'm writing ???) and then starting to write the next part . Or maybe I should just make it another au or really a timeline of an au . 

What do you think of mtwfmte og tl au ?

Ask any questions you want im happy to answer !

[artificial-transmutations]

Peace and Love

The rain that had covered the city ruins during the last few days had ended an hour ago. Still, Misha didn't feel good walking through the bombed out place. The sky was still gray and dark, always ready to unload a new shower of rain water on them.

Usually, Misha liked the rain, since it always had a cleaning aspect to it, washing away the dirt and making way for new sunshine. However, that had changed when he had been drafted and sent into this country on the whim of the president, an old man with an unhealthy appetite for neighboring countries' soil.

At the beginning, Misha believed all the lies they had been told, about how evil this countries government was and that they needed to liberate the people here. It had been quite a surprise when said people had little interest in being liberated and instead fought back with all they had.

It should have been a short war, not even a real war, that's what they said. Now, it has already been well over one year since they invaded.

Misha sighed. He knew that, secretly, many of the other soldiers thought the same way, but nobody dared to say anything.

The other man he was on patrol with, for example. His name was Sergey, and Misha knew that he had left a girlfriend at home when he was drafted for this war. Although Sergey didn't talk too much about it, Misha knew she had broken up with him by now. He had no idea how Sergey knew, since they weren't allowed to use phones, but such news didn't do much to raise the poisoned mood of the soldiers.

In that regard, Misha was lucky. The only woman he left at home was his mother, since he was "between girlfriends" currently. Truth be told, he just wasn't very good in taking to girls. Not that it mattered, anyway, because right now, he was mainly in the company of men.

There had been rumors about some of the invading soldiers seeking release with the local girls, against their will even. Misha refused to believe that, and he was pretty sure it couldn't have been anyone from his unit: Although or perhaps even because they were all real men, Misha was sure none of them would do something like that.

In other units, though, Misha wasn't quite so sure if he was being honest. There were some pretty big assholes in the army - a character trait that curiously often coincided with the firm belief in what they were doing out here.

"Do you think it will end soon? That damned war, I mean."

Misha's thoughts were interrupted by Sergey's voice. As usual, the other man sounded borderline depressed.

It made no sense to lie, so Misha shook his head. "Not until the old man dies."

Instinctively, Misha looked around. Thankfully, there wasn't anyone else here. He should not have said that! If Sergey told anyone, he would be shot!

"Hah. You're brave." Sergey said, himself looking around, before continuing in a lower voice.

"But I agree. All of that is just so... wrong."

If Sergey was testing him, he was very convincing. It did feel good to be able to speak his heart for a change, so Misha nodded.

"Yeah. What are we even doing here? I'm tired of fighting, and this whole war is not justified at all."

Sergey turned to a more secluded alley, away from potential eyes and ears that could hear their highly treacherous conversation. When he was sure that nobody could see or hear them, he stopped and lit a cigarette and regarded Misha with a long look.

"Did you ever think about just... you know... Not fighting anymore? Just going away?" he asked, carefully.

Whoa, this was dangerous talk indeed. Misha almost whispered, when he replied:

"You mean like - deserting?"

Sergey nodded. "I've been thinking about it for some time now. I just don't want to do this anymore. All this destruction and killing and violence. And all that for a cause I don't believe in. The old man is not only destroying the lives of the people here, but also the lives of his own men, our lives. And you know what? I think he doesn't even care. Someone really should stand up to him and end this, but everyone is just afraid."

Misha needed a second to digest this, but he found himself agreeing whole heartedly. "I feel you, man! But who would do that? There's a reason everyone is afraid. He'll fucking kill you or your family."

Sergey sighed. There was no denying Misha was right, it wasn't like he hadn't had that thought himself.

"I know. And, you know, I don't care how, but I just don't want to do this anymore. I wish there would just be peace, and love."

Misha nodded sincerely. "Peace and love. That sounds wonderful."

It was a strange moment between the two soldiers, both tough men and raised in a culture of masculinity. Opening their hearts like that was something neither of them were used to do. All these emotions, all these wishes should be kept inside, at all cost. That was what was expected of them both. Yet, somehow, the sincere and pure wish, uttered from the bottom of Sergey's heart touched something inside of Misha, and resonated with his own tortured soul. He couldn't prevent it: A single tear rolled down his dirty cheek.

The thing about wishes is that they are powerful. While belief is able to move mountains, hope and wishes shape our live, from the start until the very end. Once a true and pure wish like that is out in the open, it cannot be contained anymore. Given the right moment in time and the right people around us, a wish like that can take root and bloom into something magnificent. Even in the darkest places and the most tortured souls, there is magic. Most often, you can't see it and the magic we shape by our hearts truest desires is subtle and works unseen. But there are those really rare times when the spark of the wish that ignites our magic is so strong, so deeply rooted, that the magic it unleashes is not a small and unseen trickle, but a flood, a force being able to change anything and everything, in the most spectacular of ways. This was one of those moments.

Misha was surprised to feel the other man's hand on his cheek, wiping away his tear. The touch was gentle and tender and didn't really fit to the tough man wearing uniform and carrying an assault rifle. When Misha looked up, he saw Sergey smiling, perhaps for the first time in all of the months they had known each other now.

Misha wanted to say something, anything really, but he couldn't. There was a lump in his throat and his feelings were going crazy. He had never noticed, but Sergey looked good when he smiled. Not just good, Sergey looked handsome, beautiful even. As much as he wanted to, Misha couldn't stop looking at Sergey's face. He did barely notice that he too was smiling. There was an unknown feeling in his stomach, making him feel weak and strong at the same time. He felt an attraction stronger than anything he had ever felt before, and he knew Sergey was experiencing something similar. The cigarette had been dropped to the ground carelessly, as the two men moved closer to each other. Sergey’s eyes were deep brown pools that sucked Misha in - so beautiful, and yet so close.

Misha did only notice how close they had gotten when their noses touched. He backed up half a centimeter, before he saw the smile on Sergey’s mouth showing a slight hint of amusement. Then it happened, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, as if it was a law of nature rather than something Misha was told was abhorrent. Their lips found each other, warm and soft and tender.

As Misha and Sergey kissed, the world around them was in motion. The ruined and wet concrete around them changed and became more aligned to the joy in their souls, as it gave way to the new reality they created together. In this place where violence and death reigned, love and peace took hold, and their surroundings became a home, filled with life and memories.

The dirt of the conflict on their skins washed away, along with their uniforms and tools of war, until they were as naked as the day they were born. But not even their bodies stayed the same. While Sergey became somewhat more massive, with bulging muscles and a slight layering of body fat, for Misha, it was the other way around. His features became more delicate, and a lean build formed on his body. While he retained a slight bit of body hair and a hint of stubble on his chin, it was nothing compared to Sergey, whose body bloomed with a dense pelt of dark hair. A short and attractive beard formed on his chin and tickled Misha while they made out passionately. Their naked erections rubbed together, already having accepted this new reality. As Misha's hair lightened up a bit, become a dark blond spiky cut, both of them knew in their heart that it was done. They had escaped the madness, together. They were at home and at peace. And, most importantly, they were loved. Misha loved his boyfriend, Sergey, and Sergey loved him. Finally, the sky had cleared up for them, and the future was bright.

I believe I should mention again that all characters and events in my stories are purely fictional. Inspiration however can come from the strangest things. I whish everyone the peace and love they really wish for!

This story also serves as a complementary piece to Army fantasies, since I felt it ended on a slightly unpleasant note, at least for some.