#mei beneath the surface

[amalythea]

「 but does he really know me when the lights are on? 」

⤷ info: diluc & childe x gn!reader (separate) || angsty fic hehe || wc: 544 & 461 respectively

⤷ warnings: diluc n childe are a tad bit neglectful of their lovers bc theyre busy, mentions of childe's real name (does this even count as a warning), i tried to make this extra angsty as a treat for you guys <3

⤷ extra: i used the prompt i. “but does he really know me when the lights are on?” from @thexianzhoujade 's personal memoires (of the dearly beloved) event!! thank you so much to @mei-sm for proofreading!!

diluc.

As the owner of the renowned Dawn Winery, your lover's days were consumed by the meticulous tasks of wine-making and managing the estate. Diluc was a man of dedication, his every waking moment dedicated to upholding his family's legacy.

But amidst the clinking of glasses and the rustle of grapevines, there existed a longing within Diluc—a longing for companionship, for someone to share his burdens and his joys. It was in the quiet moments of the night, as he gazed out over the vineyards, that this longing weighed heaviest upon him.

Then, amidst the chaos of his busy life, you came into his world like a breath of fresh air. You who seemed to understand Diluc in a way no one else could. Your encounters were fleeting yet profound, each stolen moment leaving Diluc yearning for more.

Despite his limited time, Diluc cherished every second he spent with you. He memorized the curve of your smile, the sound of your laughter, the way your eyes sparkled in the moonlight. In his mind, he constructed an image of you—a flawless portrait of a person he believed he knew inside and out.

But as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, Diluc's time grew ever scarcer. His duties at the winery demanded more of him, leaving little room for anything else. Yet, in the rare moments you shared, Diluc clung to the illusion of intimacy he had built in his mind.

One evening, as you sat together beneath the stars, your voice broke the silence. "Diluc," you said softly, your gaze searching his face, "do you truly believe you know me?"

Caught off guard by your question, Diluc faltered. "Of course, I do," he replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "I know you better than anyone."

But your eyes held a sadness he had not seen before. "But do you?" you murmured, your words hanging heavy in the air. "Do you know the dreams I keep hidden in the depths of my heart? Do you know the fears that haunt me in the darkness of night?"

Diluc felt a pang of guilt deep within him. Despite his love for you, he realized that his knowledge of you was only surface-deep. He knew your smile, your laughter, your outward demeanor—but the depths of your soul remained a mystery to him.

In that moment, the realization hit him like a sudden gust of wind. Despite his best intentions, despite his unwavering devotion, he had failed to truly know the one he loved. And as he looked into your eyes, he saw the truth reflected back at him—the heartbreaking realization that your connection was built on a foundation of illusion.

Tears welled in your eyes as you rose to your feet, your voice barely above a whisper. "I wish things were different, Diluc," you whispered, your words heavy with sorrow. "But I fear that we are destined to remain strangers, even as lovers."

And with that, you turned and walked away, leaving Diluc alone beneath the stars, his heart heavy with regret. For in that moment, he knew that despite his best efforts, he had let the one he loved slip through his fingers, never truly knowing you as he had believed.

childe.

In the heart of Liyue Harbor, beneath the grandeur of the illuminated archways and amidst the bustling streets, Childe found himself entangled in the mess of his own making. The weight of his duties pressed upon him like a leaden cloak, consuming his days and nights in a relentless pursuit of power and influence. Amidst the political machinations and secret dealings, there was but one respite for him – the presence of his lover.

Your relationship was an affair hidden behind veils of secrecy and deception. Childe reveled in the moments stolen away from the prying eyes of the world, where he could lose himself in the warmth of your embrace. Yet, even in your most intimate moments, there lingered an unspoken question, a whisper of doubt that haunted your thoughts.

Despite his professed affection, Childe remained a stranger in many ways, his mind consumed by the ceaseless demands of his position within the Fatui. He spoke in riddles, his words veiled in ambiguity, leaving you to decipher the depths of his intentions.

As the nights grew longer and the shadows darker, you found peace in the silence between you, a quiet refuge from the chaos of your intertwined lives. But beneath the facade of understanding, doubts festered, like seeds sown in barren soil, their roots entwined with the fragile threads of your bond.

One night, as the city slept beneath a blanket of stars, your doubts could no longer be silenced. With tears glistening in your eyes, you uttered the words that had long lingered unspoken between the two of you.

"Do you truly know me, Ajax?" you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath upon the wind. "Or do you see only the shadows of who I am, cast by the light of your own desires?"

For a moment, Childe was speechless, the weight of your words bearing down upon him like a crushing weight. In the silence that followed, he searched your eyes for answers, but found only the reflection of his own uncertainty staring back at him.

"I... I thought I knew you," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the gentle rustle of the night breeze. "But perhaps... perhaps I was mistaken."

With those words, the fragile bonds that held you together shattered like glass, leaving nothing but shards of regret in their wake. In the cold light of dawn, you turned away, leaving Childe to face the emptiness of his own solitude.

Alone amidst the ruins of your shattered love, Childe found himself haunted by the echoes of your parting words. In the depths of his heart, he knew that he had lost more than just a lover – he had lost a piece of himself, forever hidden in the shadows of what might have been.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

@amalythea 2024. | do not re-upload, copy, translate, etc. my works on any form of media.

[meatonfork]

A Change

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pairings: platonic 141 x grim; grim x oc

warnings: none

summary: maybe visiting your apartment actually had some benefits aside from the impending loneliness

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they’d noticed a change.

you had finally decided to go home after a mission. there was no point in you even renting the apartment out if you never even went to it.

it was dusty and cold. the heat was off due to you never stepping foot in the place for months. the bare minimum of furniture accompanied by a lack of items that claimed someone did in fact live there.

setting grocery bags on the counter, you huffed out a sigh. your eyes drifted over the liminal space, feet trudging to the light switch. spoon sat on the counter, gnawing at the plastic bags.

a buzz on the counter called your attention to your phone sat face down on the smooth surface.

opening it, you were met with a message.

you doin good kid?

soap.

yeah! all good, bud. thanks xx

and you left it at that.

you could lie over text; it was easier. they couldn’t see your tells, or the way you tensed a bit before throwing on your best smile.

it was hard. coming back to an empty apartment when your squad, aside from simon, all had someone to go home to. you felt guilty for leaving ghost there alone, but you knew you needed to tend to your own apartment.

you leaned your elbows on the counter, head in your hands. it felt wrong. tears welled in your eyes, the sting being all too familiar. you could feel your cheeks heating up. you missed having someone to go home to. you missed your siblings. sometimes, you even missed your awful parents, because at least they were there.

maybe i should’ve asked price to go home with him instead.

the tears traveled down the apple of your cheeks and down your neck, getting lost beneath the fabric of your shirt.

shaking your head as if to push away the thought, you wiped the tears and you started unpacking the grocery bags. you didn’t buy much, just enough to make due on your leave. you probably wouldn’t be back in a few months anyway, it didn’t really matter. but, when you inevitably did come back, you didn’t want rotting food in your pantry.

putting the plastics bags into a little cubby, a knock sounded at the door. it was soft, but it had purpose behind it.

your back tensed, no one knew where you lived. none of your boys knew, and it was for a reason. you feared they would hover. and that was the last thing you’d needed. sometimes, you needed time alone.

on high alert, you moved towards the door. slow steps lead you to the frame, and you shifted to look through the peephole.

confusion clouded your mind as you saw a girl on the other side. she wasn’t particularly tall, but she was still taller than you. dark hair with curtains bangs hiding a bit of her face, and round glasses sat upon her nose.

with your head cocked to the side, you opened the door a crack.

“uh.. hi? can i help you?” you cleared your throat. she was pretty. dark brown, peach blossom shaped eyes looked back at you.

“yeah! i just moved in a couple months ago, and i’ve never seen you before. do you live here?” she offered a small smile, shifting on both feet.

it clicked. you actually had neighbors. you always assumed you did, but never went out of your way to meet them.

hiding your shock, you answered, “oh! uh, yes. i do. i’ve just been at work. i haven’t really had the time to come back i guess. i kinda just stay there instead of coming back.”

“well, that seems like a tough job. it’s nice to meet my absent neighbor. i’m mei, by the way!” she smiled and stuck her hand out.

grasping her hand in your smaller one, you gave it light but firm shake.

“you too, mei. don’t get used to seeing me around.” you offered a sad smile, eyes during just a tad bit down. “i’ll be gone again soon.”

“oh! uh, okay! i better get back. my cat is probably wondering where i went. see you around, neighbor!”

“yeah. see you around, mei.”

and with that, you shut the door softly.

a soft meow from behind you pulled a small gasp from your mouth.

“spoon! you scared me.” you laughed out.

spoon sat there, staring you down.

“what? i didn’t even do anything. i just told her the truth.” an exasperated sigh left your lips at the realization of talking to your kitten. “whatever, man.”

———

it was two days later, lounging on your couch and finishing off a report you had to drop off in a few days, that another soft yet firm knock at your door sounded through the apartment.

you opened the door quicker this time, assuming it was maintenance or an odd solicitor.

“oh! hey, mei.” you smiled.

“hey! i know this is weird, but i was wondering if i could use your bathroom? they shut the water off to my apartment because a pipe broke in the kitchen.” she was in comfy clothes. sweats, a t-shirt, and a pair of converse.

“oh. um, sure. come on in. sorry, it’s pretty boring. again, i’m never really here.” you side stepped, and let her in.

“it’s okay. i don’t mind. thanks so much!” she shuffled passed you, and you pointed out the bathroom to her. thank god you stocked the bathroom, or that would’ve been awkward.

you followed behind her when she stopped.

“you okay?” your head tilted as your eyes focused on the back of her hair that was thrown up in a bun, similarly to yours.

“what’s this?” she pointed out the report splayed across the coffee table.

“oh, just work stuff.” you chuckled before turning to put it all in the manila folder.

“still working on your time off? man, your job sucks.” she laughed before making her way to the bathroom.

you sighed, looking to spoon who now sat in your seat.

you decided to make some tea while waiting for mei to come out of the bathroom.

a squeal behind you made you jump, twirling to look back.

“what!” your heart was racing. being on edge constantly was not helping you in the slightest.

“your cat is so cute! oh my goodness!” you watched as she reached her hand out to the small void sitting in your couch.

“oh, spoon? yeah, she’s something else haha.” your heart calmed, a hand over it as if it to still it.

“she’s very cute. i like the name too.” she peered over at you while still petting the kitten.

“i found her at work, decided to keep her with me. everyone back there loves her.”

“i can see why. very, very cute.” she smiled up at you from her crouched stance, before standing and making her way to the door. “thanks for letting me use the bathroom, i’ll be out of your hair now.”

“yeah, not a problem. have a good day, mei!”

“you too, neighbor.”

and she was gone.

as the rest of the month dragged on, you found that either of you would invite the other over for a movie night almost every other night.

you didn’t like to be alone in an empty apartment, and mei enjoyed having you around.

in time, you found that you enjoyed having mei around too.

she helped you redecorate your apartment. a nicer couch, a new rug, a cat tree for spoon. even wall art, which you never even thought to buy- because why? but what mei said was set in stone, and you put it up anyway.

telling mei you had to go back to work for a while was bittersweet. you missed your boys, they were your family. but, god, you would miss mei.

she was a breath of fresh air when you desperately needed it. like when you go swimming in the deep end of the pool, but you didn’t take a deep enough breath.

———

they noticed the change. the month you were gone had changed you. it wasn’t very noticeable, unless they knew that they were supposed to be looking for it.

ghost noticed first. but seeing as he was your best friend, it was expected.

gaz and price fell in quickly, noticing the slight pep in your step.

and finally, soap was queued in when you laughed lighter and you smiled more.

it was a nice change.

you had also become more careful during missions.

it’s not that you weren’t alert and on edge before, but now it was heightened. you were constantly checking over your shoulder. even on base. you made sure to get hurt less often.

you would still take a bullet or a stab wound for your boys, no hesitation. but, it was almost as if you had a new push for a will to live. to be okay.

that was, until a particular mission where you almost lost your life.

laswell had put your team on a human trafficking task.

“take them all down.” was all she said. and you were damned if you didn’t.

that was how you found yourself watching your lieutenant in a knife fight, his gun thrown to the ground. you were across the street, lining up for the shot, but ghost’s back was to you. you couldn’t get the target without shooting your best friend first. and you absolutely were not doing that.

you were about to inform your captain of your predicament, moments frantic, when i red dot appearing on ghost’s back paused your movements.

you didn’t even think, mind going a million miles an hour. you just ran.

a gun shot rang out, your body falling to the ground as a cry left your mouth. a blinding white pain burst through your chest.

you groaned as you fell in the dirt, blood pooling around your body.

“oh, fuck.”

“grim! what the fuck, kid. we need medical!” your body was flipped around and a pressure was put on your chest, just below your heart.

opening your eyes, you saw a skull staring back at you.

“hey, kid. keep your eyes open for me, yeah? why the fuck did you do that?” he grunted as he put more pressure on your chest.

you groaned, quickly sucking in breath as he applied more pressure, “couldn’t let you get shot, l.t.”

“i was fine. we need medical, now!”

you couldn’t hear very well, the blood loss making you tired. you wanted to take a nap.

“kid. hey, grim. eyes open. c’mon, kid.” he lightly slapped your face, but you could barely register the dull pats on your cheek.

———

a beeping to your left slowly got louder as you gained consciousness.

your eyes started to softly flutter open, only for them to close upon bright lights blinding you.

soft groans left your lips as your finally opened your eyes, squinting until you adjusted.

“what the fuck was that.”

you startled, looking at the giant sitting to your left.

“what? what was what?” your throat was dry, voice strained. water was thrust into your view and you took it shakily. gulping down the water, you looked back to the lieutenant.

“i was fine, grim. why the fuck did you do that.” he crossed his arms, eyes boring into yours.

“you were going to get shot! on top of that, there was someone right next to you. what the hell was i supposed to do? just let you die? i can’t just sit and let that happen to my best friend.” you glared right back at him, not daring to move your upper body in anticipation of the pain that would follow.

“and now you’re shot.”

“yeah, but i ain’t dead. you would’ve been. i’d do it again, l.t.”

“don’t. don’t do it again. you’re being sent home for a bit to rest. not my decision, by the way. it’s price’s.” he sighed as he lent forward, elbows resting on your bed.

you picked at the fabric of the blanket that sat on your hips.

“i figured. taking a bullet to the chest isn’t prime condition to continue, yeah?” you looked back up to him.

he nodded and leaned back, “yeah, kid. glad you’re alright.” he stood and ruffled your hair.

“me too, simon.”

———

being home wasn’t as fun as you remembered.

the reason?

the guys had found your address. someone had to drive you home. that someone being soap. lovely, soap. he was now your number one enemy.

they were hovering, and you’d yet to see mei.

your lack of quiet time was taking a toll on you.

the four men currently sat in your living room, taking up the floor as you sat on the couch with your feet in simon’s lap, his hands holding onto your shins.

“you guys, i’m fine. i really don’t need you all here.” you rolled your eyes as they all turned to look at you.

“kid, you can barely walk, hmm?” price looked down at you, setting a cup of tea in your hands.

“yeah. and you look like shit, someone needs ta take care of ya.” soap chuckled, looking up at you from the floor. gaz chuckled as soap looked at him.

“no. no, i really don’t. you just wanted to know where i live and pester me. don’t act like the hero here, suds.”

“suds?? you just call me suds? yeah, i ain’t leavin’ for a bit.”

a groan sounded from you as you leaned your head back into the arm of the couch.

you were about to retaliate, when a knock sounded from the door. a soft, yet firm knock. mei.

everyone froze before you sat up, slowly making your way to your feet.

“no, i’ll get it. sit your ass down, and don’t move.” gaz jumped from the floor, pointing you down.

you threw your hands up in surrender and shook your head.

the click of the door opening sounded before gaz spoke out, “hello? can i help you?”

“oh my gosh, hello!” the soft voice of the girl you were excited to see most called out your name in search of you, “they told me they were home, but i can come back at another time…” mei’s voice drifted through the room.

“you’re good! let her in, kyle!” you yelled back.

you heard shuffling before mei stood in front of you.

“hey! oh my god, what happened to you? and who are these men?” her eyes drifted over your figure, wearing only a sports bra, showing off the gauze that had small blotches of blood on your chest.

mei knew what you did, and you didn’t mind, but she’s meeting your team too soon. and it was 100% out of your control.

you groaned, sitting up a bit. simon helping by reaching over and placing a hand on your arm. you nodded at him in thanks.

“these are the guys in my squad. i, uh, got shot.” you looked to her. she didn’t move, letting it sink in. the guys had gone quiet.

you hadn’t told her? who even is she?

“who is mei?” price looked between you and the asian girl standing at the end of your couch.

“mei is my girlfriend.”

it was silent. an awkward smile over took your face, “surprise!”

“mei, this is simon, john, kyle, and johnny. guys, this is mei.” you pointed everyone out. small waves and smiles was exchanged.

“how did you get shot?” mei questioned as she shuffled her feet.

“oh… um, simon was about to get shot. i took the bullet for him.” you looked between the two.

mei and simon looked at each other before she smacked him upside the head.

“oh my god! mei, what the fuck?” your eyes widened as you leaned forward.

“you’re supposed to be watching them! you’re their team!” she raised her voice at your lieutenant.

everyone’s widened, watching the exchange. until gaz burst out with laughter.

simon cleared his throat, “mm yeah. i am. cant really do that when they push me out the way of a bullet, though. can i?” his stare moved to you.

your cheeks heated up, a sheepish smile taking over your features, “that was definitely, 100% my fault, mei. i already got my ass chewed for it, too. don’t worry. i’m fine. and i’ll continue to be fine.”

“you better. move over, hulk.” mei stepped over simon’s legs, making to sit between you two. her arm wound around your back, pulling you to her side.

“oh my god, i love her already.” soap howled with laughter as simon sat still. stunned from mei’s shove.

“me too.”

———

it took a few days, but everyone left. and you only had mei looking over you. you two hadn’t talked too much about your profession and injuries since the team were looming around.

“hey, can we talk about this?” you paused the movie as she pointed to the gauze wrapped around your chest. her eyes were watering, and her hands held a slight shake.

“hmm? hun, im okay, really!” you held your hands out for her. she moved forward, head resting on your stomach.

“i’m okay, i promise.” you ran your hands through her long brown hair. she squeezed your stomach as she sniffled, spoon sitting on the back of her legs.

tears welled in your own eyes. a sniffle left your nose and mei looked up.

“babe, why are you crying?”

“i’m sorry.” you whispered back.

“don’t be. it’s okay. like you said, you’re okay. hmm?” she settled back in your lap, fingers running up and down your thighs.

maybe coming home really wasn’t that bad. you finally had someone to come home to. you could leave the heat on, and mei would watch spoon for you- if you didn’t take her back to base. you could grocery shop for more than one person now.

and she may not be your blood family, who you missed so much, but she was found family. just like your boys, who loved you unconditionally. no longer having to feel guilty for moving on, and doing it on your own.

the place you called home finally had a purpose, and warmed your heart.

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a/n: i did it! it’s done :) i really hope you enjoyed it!!

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Know No Evil | Little Devil: RED HERRING Little Devil: RED HERRING | little devil: red herring⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽

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It was the final day of summer break, and the air buzzed with an odd mixture of anticipation and dread.

You watched your Mei, flutter around the kitchen like a frantic butterfly, her movements hurried and erratic as she pulled together the last-minute preparations for your first day of middle school tomorrow.

Her voice, a frantic mix of excitement and worry, drifted to you as she rattled off a list of items you needed for the next day.

You sat at the kitchen table, half-listening, your mind elsewhere. So much had happened over the past few weeks.

Now 12, you'd graduated elementary school, stepping into the chaotic whirlwind of summer with a fleeting sense of freedom that had now withered under the reality of what awaited.

A new school. New faces.

But that wasn't what truly bothered you.

No, it was something far more insidious, something that you, even as a devil amongst humans, could not avoid: the grotesque reminder of your fleshly vessel's humanity—your menstrual cycle.

It had struck you like a cruel joke from the universe, an inconvenience you had long forgotten that devils were fortunate enough to bypass.

You loathed it—it did nothing but remind you of the human weaknesses you were forced to endure. It was almost insulting, really, to be brought low by something so mundane.

This body was supposed to be a vessel, a mere tool for your plans, yet here you were, distracted and irritable because of a biological function that you, as a devil, should never have to deal with.

You clenched your jaw, anger simmering beneath the surface.

Devils didn't suffer through such indignities. They didn't bleed in a grotesque cycle of pain and discomfort, just to bear the burden of mortal reproduction bound by the whims of biology.

Reproduction for devils was far more insidious, far more intertwined with the essence of fear itself. They didn't reproduce through physical means but by creating new concepts to be feared by humans.

It takes a crescendo of death, despair, and terror—not on the devils' end, of course—but from the mortals who fed their existence.

When the fear became potent enough, it would coalesce into a pulsing seed, dark and alive with malice. This seed would grow, feeding off the havoc it wrought, the fear and dread of humans nourishing it until it matured.

And when the time came, it would burst forth in a symphony of agony and blood, the ruin left behind marking the birth of a new devil, an embodiment of that fear, emerging from the devastation it had caused.

It was a gruesome process, yes, but it was quick and untainted by the slow torture of monthly reminders. There was something almost admirable about it in its honesty. It was a method that made sense—ruthless but efficient.

Unlike this human mess.

The first time it happened, you were caught off guard, waking up to find the sheets stained with a crimson reminder of your body's betrayal.

For a moment, you'd panicked, thoughts racing back to the infernal plane, wondering if perhaps this vessel was breaking down, if your presence in this form was finally taking its toll.

But no. It was simply a human thing.

A stupid, human thing.

You leaned back in your chair, absently twisting a lock of hair around your finger as your mother continued her frantic preparations. You tuned out her chatter, staring blankly at the kitchen wall as your mind drifted.

You hated it—this vulnerability, this weakness that came with the territory of living in a human shell.

The cramps, the fatigue, the blood. To think that this inconvenience could have an effect on your behavior was infuriating, but it was a reality you couldn't ignore.It was all so... beneath you. Inferior.

And now, on top of everything else, you had to contend with this as you prepared to enter a new stage of 'finding yourself,' as Mei liked to call.

You scoffed internally. Finding yourself. What a ridiculous notion.

You knew who you were. You'd known for centuries. This human world, with all its rules and expectations, was just another playground, another stage for your games.

Still, despite your disdain for this fleshy vessel, you couldn't deny the advantages it afforded you. Blending in was easier when you looked the part, after all.

So you'd play along, as you always did, even if it meant enduring the messiness of humanity.

And despite your best efforts to keep this newfound, change from Mei, ever the doting mother, she was far too perceptive for what you give credit for.

She'd been watching you with that peculiar blend of motherly concern and curiosity for weeks now, eyes tracking every subtle wince, every shift in your posture, far too attuned to even the slightest shift in your demeanor.

The day she finally confronted you was a delicate dance of anxiety and affection.

It was last week when, just as you were about to turn in for bed, she came to you; her eyes were wide, brimming with unshed tears, and her hands wrung together nervously in front of her. The moment the words "Is there... is there something you want to tell me?" uttered from her lips, you gave in, telling her you began your period.

There was no point in hiding it anymore. You'd seen the look in her eyes too many times, the silent question lingering on her lips, the way she'd hover just a bit too close when she thought you weren't paying attention. "I've started my period."

A choked gasp escaped Mei's lips, a hand flying up to cover her mouth as tears filled her eyes. "Oh, my baby girl is blossoming!" she exclaimed gently before rushing out, shouting about how she would be right back with materials. She was practically vibrating with excitement, her words coming out in a breathless rush.

"I haven't had my period in years, so I'm not sure what brands are best these days, but I'll figure it out, okay? And I'll get you some chocolate and a heating pad and—" With that, she was off, practically bouncing down the hall as she called out to your father. "Winnie! We need to go to the store! Our baby girl needs us!"

You rolled your eyes, leaning back against the headboard, closing your eyes.

You'd known about the emergency box for ages, of course, finding it months ago during one of those idle afternoons where boredom drove you to explore every nook and cranny of the house.

It had been tucked away at the very back of the bathroom cabinet, hidden behind a stack of old towels and a dusty box of first aid supplies.

You'd used it during your first period, the contents barely sufficient to get you through those miserable days. The memory of that initial shock, waking up to find the sheets stained with blood, was still vivid in your mind.

You'd felt betrayed, furious at the reminder of this body's limitations.

But you'd managed, as you always did, keeping the ordeal to yourself. You had no intention of burdening your parents with it, after all, you're a devil, not some helpless human child in need of coddling.

The only reason you were coming forward now was because you knew there was no way in hell you were going to resort to those cheap, uncomfortable pads provided by the school nurse.

No, if you were going to be forced to endure this monthly indignity, you would at least do it on your own terms. You would not be caught dead asking for one of those abominations.

And so, you'd let Mei in on your little secret, knowing full well that her over-the-top response would result in a shopping spree of epic proportions, something that made this whole ordeal a little more bearable.

Your mood soured as you trudged toward the school gates the next morning, your lower stomach a persistent source of discomfort as it pinched and prickled with the familiar, unwelcome sensation of menstrual cramps.

Your mother had been in a whirlwind of excitement that morning, a stark contrast to your own misery. She had practically floated around the kitchen, packing your lunch with an excess of chocolate treats and slipping extra pads into your bag with a conspiratorial wink. "Just in case, sweetie," she whispered, her eyes sparkling with maternal pride.

The memory made you cringe internally as you approached the school building, the weight of the small, practical gesture somehow adding to your irritation.

You'd never needed anything from anyone, and you didn't plan to start now.

Upon reaching the entrance, you dutifully removed your outdoor shoes and slipped into the neatly arranged indoor pair waiting in your cubby

It was a ritual that should have been familiar, comforting even, but today, it only served to remind you of the constraints of this world you were forced to navigate.

As you joined the flow of students moving toward the classroom, you entered, the murmur of conversations washed over you like a wave. The atmosphere was abuzz with a mix of excitement and nerves, everyone eager to start this new chapter in their academic lives.

Despite the familiar faces, there was a subtle shift in the air. The carefree innocence of elementary school had given way to something more defined, more self-aware.

Your gaze drifted across the room, taking in the small clusters of students catching up with each other, exchanging stories of vacations and summer camps.

The boys, previously all soft features and awkward limbs, now stood a little taller, their voices deeper, some even sporting the first traces of facial hair; they boasted about their exploits, whether it be a new video game high score or a triumphant sports victory.

The girls, too, had shed their baby fat, moving with a new grace and confidence, their conversations tinged with a hint of something more mature, more knowing; they compared tans and hairstyles, some even daring to show off the slightest hint of makeup.

It was pretty much the same cliques that had dominated your elementary years, their presence a constant reminder of the social hierarchies that humans seemed to instinctively form.

You had never been part of their circles, and you had never wanted to be, preferring to keep to yourself and observe from a distance.

You headed straight to your favorite seat, the one you always claimed in every class without fail—directly in the middle of the room. It wasn't just a matter of preference; it was a calculated choice, a position of control.

In the center, you were inconspicuous enough to avoid unwanted attention yet positioned perfectly to observe everyone around you. Every conversation, every glance, every whisper—nothing escaped your notice.

It was your little throne, a place where you could reign over this mundane world of human trivialities with an amused detachment.

Settling down, you allowed yourself a brief moment of satisfaction.

The chatter of your classmates filled the room, a background noise that almost drowned out the persistent throb in your lower abdomen. You stretched your legs out beneath the desk, leaning back in your chair with an air of casual nonchalance.

Here, in the eye of the storm, you could monitor the ebb and flow of the room's dynamics without being swept up in them.

As you pulled out your notebook and pen, preparing to idly doodle away your irritation, you noticed a small, mousy figure shuffling toward the empty seat to your right. The boy moved hesitantly, his shoulders hunched as if bracing for impact.

You watched, mildly intrigued, as he sat down, his head ducked low, trying to make himself invisible.

He had short, unruly green hair, reminiscent of a patch of wild moss growing against the grain. His eyes were a striking shade of emerald, wide and nervous like a deer caught in headlights.

The way he moved, the way he glanced around with a blend of curiosity and trepidation, made him seem almost fragile.

Every time a student passed by, he would glance up, his mouth opening as if to speak, only to close it again, his words dying in his throat before they could take form.

Twice, he tried to initiate conversation with the students walking past, his voice barely above a whisper, stuttering out greetings that went unheard.

The first time, a boy with a shock of orange hair brushed past him without a glance, his loud laughter with a friend completely drowning out the green-haired boy's timid. "H-Hey, Ueno-kun.  How was your break?"

The second time, a group of girls walked by, their giggles filling the air as they chattered about summer plans. The boy managed a small, tentative "Good morning," only for them to pass him without so much as a nod, their conversation flowing seamlessly over his quiet words as if he were invisible.

You watched as his shoulders slumped further with each failed attempt, his eyes flickering with a mixture of hope and resignation. It was like watching a small bird repeatedly fly into a glass window, never quite understanding why it couldn't pass through.

Finally, he seemed to give up, his gaze dropping to his desk as he pulled out a notebook, scribbling away with a determination that bordered on desperation.

You squinted at the familiar sight, the frantic scribbling triggering a distant memory.

Ah, it was that boy Bakugo was always complaining about—the one with the ridiculous ambition of becoming a hero despite his apparent lack of a Quirk. What was his name again? Midi-something?

You barely suppressed a snort, a soundless laugh bubbling in your chest as you recalled Bakugo's near-constant rants about this broccoli-haired boy.

The explosive blonde had made it a point to ridicule him at every opportunity, mocking his dreams, his behavior, his very existence. "Deku," Bakugo would sneer, his voice dripping with scorn as he recounted how the boy scribbled notes furiously, analyzing every hero he could, as if sheer determination could make up for his lack of power.

And yet, here he was, pen in hand, scribbling away as if his life depended on it.

The sight was almost endearing in its futility, like a dog chasing its tail.

You leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms as you observed him from the corner of your eye. So, Bakugo hadn't been exaggerating about the writing bit. Interesting.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a sudden vibration in your pocket. Fishing out your phone, you glanced at the screen to see a message from your mother.

𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑: Sweetie, are you feeling okay? Do you need anything? I can drop something off at the school if you need it. And remember, don't be shy about going to the nurse if the pain gets too bad! ❤️

You sighed, a mix of exasperation as you typed out a quick response; it hasn't even been an hour since you arrived.

𝐘𝐎𝐔: Mother, please. I just arrived.I will contact you if I need anything.

You barely hit send before you heard the sharp, familiar growl that cut through the background noise like a knife.

"Move it, Deku."

The voice was unmistakable.

Looking over, you saw the back of Bakugo's uniform as he towered over the green-haired boy who had been diligently scribbling away in his notebook.

Just like everyone else, the only difference Bakugo went through over the summer was a bit of lost baby fat and a couple more inches added to his height. He still wore that signature scowl that seemed to be permanently etched onto his face, though, his aura practically radiating hostility like a storm cloud ready to unleash.

The room began to quiet down, conversations tapering off into awkward, stifled silence. Students turned in their seats, casting furtive glances at the unfolding scene. A few brave whispers cut through the tension:

"There goes Bakugo again."

"Doesn't he ever get tired of picking on Midoriya?"

"Yeah, well, as long as it keeps him away from us, I'm not complaining," a third whisper countered, the underlying fear clear in their voice. "Better him than me."

A murmur of agreement rippled through a small cluster of students, their gazes quickly shifting away as if avoiding the fallout of even acknowledging Bakugo's presence; as long as Bakugo's wrath was directed at Midoriya, the rest of them were safe, free to exist without the threat of his explosive temper.

You watched with detached interest as Deku—Midoriya, you reminded yourself—visibly trembled, clutching his notebook to his chest like a lifeline. He looked up at Bakugo, his wide green eyes reflecting a mix of fear and resignation, his voice barely above a whisper as he tried to speak.

"I-I got here first, Kacchan," he stammered, his words fumbling over themselves in a desperate attempt to be heard. He glanced around the room, his gaze flitting from face to face, searching for some form of support, but finding only averted eyes and indifferent stares.

Bakugo's eyes narrowed, a dangerous gleam flickering within them. His lips twisted into a sneer as he took a threatening step closer to Midoriya, his voice low and venomous. "I don't care, Deku," he spat, the words laced with a venom that sent a shiver through the room. "Get. Out. Of. My. Way."

You watched with a raised eyebrow, the scene unfolding before you was almost comical in its familiarity, a cycle you had heard countless times before.

But now, seeing it up close, there was something almost fascinating about the dynamic between the two boys. Bakugo, with his unyielding aggression, his need to dominate, and Midoriya, with his quiet resilience, his refusal to break despite the relentless pressure.

Midoriya swallowed hard, his fingers tightening around his notebook until his knuckles turned white. "B-But, Kacchan, I—"

Bakugo's hand shot out, grabbing the front of Midoriya's uniform, jerking him forward until they were nearly nose to nose. The movement was so sudden and violent that Midoriya let out a small, startled yelp, his body going rigid with fear.

"Are you challenging me?" Bakugo hissed, his voice barely above a whisper. His crimson eyes bored into Midoriya's, a predatory gleam shining within them. "You think you're something now just 'cuz we left elementary? You think you can talk back to me?"

Midoriya shook his head frantically, his voice coming out in a hoarse, broken whisper. "N-No, I—I wasn't—" He bit his lip, his eyes wide and desperate as before dropping back down to his desk as if willing it to swallow him whole and save him from this confrontation. Tears welled up in his eyes, his shoulders trembling with the effort of holding back sobs. "I'm not... I'm not questioning you, Kacchan, I swear..."

You could see the muscles in Bakugo's arm tense, his grip tightening on Midoriya's uniform, his face a mask of barely contained fury. He leaned in even closer, his breath hot and heavy against Midoriya's face as he growled, "You need to move, Deku. Or I'll make you move."

The threat hung in the air like a dark cloud, thick and suffocating. The room seemed to hold its breath, the anticipation thick and heavy as everyone waited for Midoriya's reaction.

Time slowed, stretching thin like a fragile thread on the verge of snapping. His eyes, wide and glistening with unshed tears, slowly lifted from the desk to meet Bakugo's piercing gaze.

In that moment, it felt as though the entire classroom had frozen in place, every eye glued to the scene unfolding in front of them.

From Midoriya's perspective, Bakugo's glare was razor-sharp, his crimson eyes blazing with barely-contained fury. The intensity of his stare made the air around them crackle with tension.It was a look Midoriya had seen countless times before—a mixture of disdain and anger—but this time, there was something different.

Something darker, something almost venomous that made the hairs on Midoriya's arms stand on end, as if his very presence was an affront to him.

Bakugo's lips were curled back into a snarl, his teeth bared in a vicious, predatory display, the veins in his neck bulging with barely contained rage. It was the kind of look that made Midoriya's stomach twist in fear—the kind of look that told him, without words, that he was treading on dangerous ground.

He had never seen Bakugo look at him this way before—like he was nothing more than an obstacle, a roadblock standing between him and something he desperately wanted.

It was as if, in Bakugo's eyes, Midoriya had become something to be crushed, to be obliterated, simply because he dared to get in his way.

Midoriya's heart pounded in his chest, each beat sending a painful throb through his temples; he swallowed hard, his throat dry and tight, every muscle in his body screaming at him to run, to get away from the seething tempest that was Bakugo. But he couldn't move. His legs felt like lead, his feet rooted to the ground as if held there by some invisible force.

He tried to breathe, to say something, anything, to diffuse the situation, but the words caught in his throat, choked off by the overwhelming fear constricting his chest.

So, despite the trembling in his limbs, despite the tears that blurred his vision, he mustered up what little courage he had left and parted his lips to speak. "I-I—"

"Bakugo."

The sharpness of his name sliced through the air like a knife. Midoriya flinched at the sudden intrusion, his heart skipping a beat as his gaze darted in your direction; Bakugo's reaction was just as immediate the moment he heard his name, the hairs on his arms standing on end, a visible shiver running down his spine.

It made his head snapped in your direction, eyes narrowing as he took in your expression—calm, but with a flicker of something dangerous lurking beneath the surface.

The pain in your lower abdomen throbbed with each passing second, each pulse like a taunting reminder of this body's limitations.

You glared at Bakugo, the sharpness of your gaze more intense than usual, fueled by the dull ache that gnawed at you from the inside. "Is the issue that dire that you have to do this so early in the morning?" you snapped, the edge in your voice sharper than intended with irritation. You almost reveled in the way Bakugo stiffened, his aggression momentarily wavering under your uncharacteristic irritation.

You were used to ignoring discomfort, had become quite adept at it over the years. Pain, annoyance, irritation—all could be drowned out, dismissed as nothing more than background noise.

But it was difficult to focus when your attention was divided between drowning out the pain in your body and the obnoxious display of teenage aggression unfolding beside you.

And now, as the dull throb of a migraine pulsed against your temples, amplifying every sound, every breath, every heartbeat around you, it was becoming too much to ignore.

Even then, you supposed you had a limit.

Bakugo's sharp glare faltered for just a moment as he processed your words. He was clearly taken aback by your unexpected interruption, and you could see the wheels turning in his head as he struggled to reconcile your usually passive demeanor with this sudden confrontation.

Midoriya couldn't believe his eyes.

Bakugo's face, which had been twisted into an expression of pure rage and contempt, faltered so quickly it was as if someone had flipped a switch. His sharp, angry gaze shifted, the aggression in his eyes dimming for a fraction of a second.

Instead of replying to you, Bakugo just merely sucked his teeth, the sound sharp and irritated, before turning on his heel and walking away. His posture was stiff, a telltale sign of his barely-contained fury, as he stalked off to the empty seat in the back of the classroom.

The low murmur of whispers that had filled the room dwindled into silence, every student in the room holding their breath, all eyes following his every move.

Bakugo dropped into the empty seat with a heavy thud, arms crossed over his chest, his posture rigid and unyielding. His eyes bored into the desk in front of him, jaw clenched tightly, a simmering anger still radiating from him, but he made no further moves.

He was done.

Midoriya sat frozen in his seat, his heart hammering in his chest. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, his hands trembling slightly as he clutched his notebook. He glanced over at you, staring as if you'd just breathed life back into him, his wide eyes filled with a mixture of disbelief and something else—something closer to awe.

For as long as he could remember, Bakugo's aggression had been directed at him like a relentless storm. But now, in this moment, it was as if the wind had been knocked out of his sails, and all it took was one word from you.

You had done it. You had actually stood up to Bakugo.

For him.

He couldn't believe it—someone had actually stood up to Bakugo for him. Not just someone, but you, the quiet, unassuming classmate he barely knew. The way you had stepped in without flinching, defusing the situation with a calm, cutting remark that had left Bakugo momentarily speechless.

It was a strange, almost surreal feeling, as if someone had just pulled him from a dark, suffocating room and into the light.

He wasn't used to this.

He wasn't used to someone stepping in, putting themselves between him and Bakugo's wrath. He felt as though a lifeline had been thrown his way, and he was grasping at it with both hands, desperate and grateful in equal measure.

Midoriya's gaze lingered on you, his eyes wide and unblinking, as if he were afraid that if he looked away, you would disappear, and everything would go back to the way it had been before.

He opened his mouth, wanting to say something—anything—to express the overwhelming gratitude and admiration bubbling up inside him.

But before he could form the words, the classroom door slid open with a cheerful clatter, drawing everyone's attention.

A woman stepped inside, her presence radiating a kind of bubbly, infectious energy that immediately seemed out of place given the tense atmosphere. She moved with a spring in her step, her bright smile lighting up her face as she made her way to the front of the room; she reminded you of a character straight out of a children's storybook.

She was petite and dressed in a cheerful, pastel-colored outfit—a knee-length skirt in a soft plum hue and a white blouse adorned with tiny, delicate flowers. Her hair was a soft shade of lavender, pulled back into a neat bun with a few stray tendrils framing her round, cheerful face, and there was a faint scent of sweet plums that seemed to follow her, wafting through the air as she passed.

She stopped in front of the blackboard and with a flourish, she picked up a piece of chalk and began to write her name in neat, looping characters.

"My name is Ume-Sensei," she chirped, her voice bright and musical, like the chiming of a bell as she turned to face the class with a clasp of her hands, her large blue eye scanning the room as if she were taking in every detail. "I will be your homeroom teacher this year, and what a wonderful year we will have together. Good..."

Her voice trailed off, her smile faltering slightly as she seemed to finally notice the tense atmosphere hanging thick in the room. The silence was heavy, almost oppressive, and her eyes darted around, taking in the expressions of her new students.

She took a small, almost hesitant step forward, her head tilting to the side as if she were trying to puzzle out what had just happened.

"...morning?" she finished, her voice tinged with uncertainty as she glanced around the room. She blinked, her smile returning, though it was now laced with a hint of confusion. "Did... did I miss anything?"

The question hung in the air, and for a moment, no one spoke. It was as if the entire class was still too stunned to process the sudden shift in mood. Then, slowly, the students began to relax, the tension that had gripped the room slowly starting to ebb away.

There were a few tentative chuckles; the sound awkward and forced, but it was enough to break the silence. The murmur of voices returned, students whispering to each other, exchanging curious glances as they tried to make sense of what had just happened.

"Well, it's so wonderful to meet all of you!" Ume-sensei sang, clasping her hands together again. "I'm sure we'll have a fantastic year full of learning and fun! So a little about me..."

As for you, the small satisfaction of putting Bakugo in his place was already fading, replaced by the dull ache of your migraine and the persistent, gnawing pain in your stomach.

You sighed, resting your chin on your hand, staring blankly at the front of the classroom as Ume-Sensei continued to speak.

The day had only just begun, and already, you were exhausted. The cramps in your stomach had settled into a dull, constant ache, a steady reminder of your discomfort, but you ignored it, focusing instead on the sound of Ume-Sensei's voice as she began to introduce herself.

When lunch finally arrived, you were in no mood to deal with anyone.

The cramps in your lower abdomen had persisted throughout the morning, gnawing away at your patience. Every little sound seemed to grate on your nerves, from the incessant chatter of your classmates to the scraping of chairs against the floor.

Each noise sent a spike of irritation through you, the pain amplifying every annoyance to an almost unbearable level.

You clenched your jaw, resisting the urge to snap at the oblivious students around you.

It wouldn't do to lose control over something so trivial, but the constant discomfort made it difficult to keep your usual cool demeanor.

You wanted nothing more than to retreat somewhere quiet, away from the irritating chatter and the insufferable smell of the cafeteria food that wafted in from down the hall.

You barely noticed when Midoriya approached your desk, his footsteps tentative and uncertain, his presence almost apologetic as he hovered beside you.

It wasn't until he cleared his throat—a soft, hesitant sound—that you looked up, your gaze meeting his wide, green eyes.

"Um, Akuma-san," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. He glanced around nervously, his cheeks flushed a deep shade of red. "I-I just wanted to say, uh, thank you. For this morning, I mean. I-I've never had anyone stand up to Kacchan for me like that, and, uh, I really appreciate it."

The words came out in a rushed tumble, like he couldn't get them out fast enough, and you had to resist the urge to scoff.

Was he serious?

Did he really think you had intervened for his sake?

That you'd gone through the effort of telling Bakugo off because you were worried about some quivering, pathetic underdog getting his feelings hurt?

The thought was almost laughable, and if it weren't for the fact that your cramps were currently making your life a living hell, you might have found it funny.

But no, you weren't in the mood for humor.

Instead, you were in the mood to let him know just how little you actually cared about his sad little life.

The words were right there, sharp and cutting, ready to be unleashed.

You could already picture the way his face would fall—how those wide, hopeful eyes would dim with the realization that no, you weren't his savior and never would be.

But you bit back the impulse, swallowing down the unnecessarily cruel words with a force of will that made your jaw ache.

He wasn't worth it... not now.

Not when the mere thought of dealing with his teary-eyed disappointment was enough to make your headache pulse with renewed vigor.

So, instead, you forced a smile onto your lips—the kind of smile that people ate up like candy, sweet and soft—something you'd perfected over the years.

You watched as his eyes widened, as that same pitiful expression of awe spread across his face, and it took everything in you not to roll your eyes at how easy he was to fool.

Then, you felt it.

Another sharp, twisting pain that coiled tighter in your abdomen.

Every instinct screamed at you to double over, to seek some sort of relief, but you couldn't show that weakness.

Not here, not now.

With a practiced effort, you schooled your features into a gentle smile as Midoriya approached, your fingers tightening around the edge of your desk, the only outward sign of your discomfort. "I just did what needed to be done, Midoriya-kun," you said, your voice gentle, almost soothing, ignoring the way the pain flared with each word.

It took everything in you not to let the sarcasm slip through, even though it was burning at the back of your throat like bile.

Once again, he looked at you like you'd hung the moon, his mouth slightly agape as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

Gods, was he always this dense?

You blinked, feigning a sudden realization."Oh," you said, your voice light as you rose gracefully from your seat. "I just remembered—I have something I need to take care of."

His eyes widened even further, if that was possible, and he stumbled back a step, his face flushing a deep crimson, the color spreading across his cheeks like wildfire. "Y-Yeah, sorry..." he stammered, his words tripping over themselves in his haste to apologize. "I didn't mean to keep you—um, I mean—thank you again, Akuma-san!"

You fought the urge to roll your eyes at his flustered rambling, instead offering him another one of those fake, warm smiles, your eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that made it seem genuine.

It was almost ridiculous how little it took to keep him happy.

"Don't worry about it," you said, your voice kind, as if you were actually trying to reassure him. You could see the way his shoulders relaxed just slightly, the tension easing out of his frame as if your words had some magical effect. "It's no big deal."

With one last forced smile, you turned and walked away, feeling his gaze on your back like a physical weight.

You could practically feel the admiration radiating off him, and it made your skin crawl.

The last thing you needed was him clinging to you, thinking you were some kind of ally.

No, you didn't have time for that kind of baggage.

So, as you walked away, you made a mental note to steer clear of his problems from now on. Let him deal with Bakugo on his own.

You didn't need another pet following you around, especially not one as useless and weak as him.

You had more important things to worry about, like keeping yourself from snapping in the middle of class because of these goddamn cramps.

Midoriya and his misplaced gratitude were the least of your concerns.

You had enough to deal with as it was.

A/N: hey guys, just wanted to give a small update/expand on reader's past with the main crew ❤️ hope i did a good job, i tried to incorporate a question i was asked about whether makima!reader dealt with human things, so here it is, lalal (omg yall dont know i feel so bad writing about my baby midori like this 😭😭)

[musicalmoritz]

Mei (The Real Mei) ships like Aoimei and Meinene are such fascinating ships in the fandom and i really want to write and see more writing on them. But it hard to imagine how Mei dynamics would shine in both ships and how it would work with Aoi and Nene dynamics due to how Mei limited appearance (Picture Prefect, Hanako-kun of Magic and some promo arts). What your thought on Mei and what will be the dynamics of her in both ships?

Omg I love this question, Aoimei is one of my favorite TBHK ships and I absolutely adore Meinene as well. Mei is so obviously a lesbian to me so any wlw ships with her are *chef’s kiss* but especially her with Aoi and Nene bcuz omg, they’re all such girlfriends

I’ll start with Aoimei since they’ve been teased in an au. It stands out to me that AidaIro have chosen to depict them together twice in aus, to me it seems like they lowkey ship them lol. Or at least that they want us to know their characters would pair well together romantically. Aoi tends to be super friendly and flirty with women (vs. her tsundere behavior with men), but I think Mei’s forwardness would throw her off at first. She’s used to women going weak in the knees every time she so much as smiles at them, so when Mei openly flirts with her I think that would make her a bit flustered (seeing as she initially turned down her date invite in HKOM). I don’t think Mei would be the type to push Aoi to go on dates at all but I do think she’d be naturally flirty, and eventually Aoi would warm up to her and they’d start going out (bcuz despite turning down the first date invite, they were mentioned to hang out often after the love spell broke)

I like Aoimei because I feel it’s a ship that would be much less intense for Aoi than Aoi/Aoi and Aoi/nene are. Mei isn’t someone she’s known her whole life, and she doesn’t hold as many high expectations for her. She doesn’t depend on her approval, so I think she’d be able to breathe a lot easier with her. There would be some struggles with Aoi’s tendency to push people away but I think Mei would break through that simply by being an easy person for Aoi to get along with

And in turn I think Mei would be so down bad for Aoi, but for who she really is. I think she’d be drawn to all of the complexities that lie beneath Aoi’s surface. Aoi would be good for her because she would be understanding of Mei’s health problems but not in a patronizing way?? Like I don’t think she’d ever make her feel awkward for it, she’d just be supportive and there when she needs her. I don’t think Aoi cares much about art herself but she’d surely support Mei’s passion for it, and maybe even model for her after some goading

Okay onto Meinene, I could yap abt Aoimei for days lol

I initially preferred Meinene platonically but upon further consideration, I’ve realized I was dumb as shit for that. These girls literally went on a date!! They went on a pancake date together!! If that had been Mitsu/Kou people (me) would’ve gone insane. Mei thought Nene was an angel when they first met, that’s so incredibly romantic and poetic. That’s something straight out of a romance novel. I also love how, despite their initial rough encounter, Nene warmed up to Mei so fast. She really does adore every woman she meets, she’s so real for that. And most of all, I love how Mei helped Nene accept the uncertainty of her fate. A lot of fans overlook that part but it’s the reason why Nene’s journey with the Meis was my favorite part of the PP arc. Nene didn’t give up trying, but seeing someone who died young embracing their fate despite the tragedy of it really helped her realize that she’d be okay no matter what. If it’s her time, then there’s nothing she can do about it; but she’s still going to try and save herself because she wants to continue living. It was such a beautiful development and honestly the main reason I love their dynamic

Now, in an actual relationship? They don’t have a set au like Aoimei do so let’s imagine a world in which Mei is alive and well and Hanako and Nene are bestie vibes only. Original Mei and No.4 Mei are twin sisters in this universe because I said so. I see them being total high school sweethearts, the It Couple of Kamome Academy. They would be so cheesy and affectionate and Mei would carry Nene bridal style down every flight of stairs, or if she doesn’t feel like walking to class. They’d have a few arguments due to Nene’s insecurities causing her to overthink things but Mei would help her work through that in a healthy way. Omg Mei would absolutely spoil that girl, she’d take her to all the best breakfast stops in town

In any ship I imagine Mei being a total gentleman, the type of girl your parents secretly pray you marry. It’s what Nene deserves tbh, and she would love it. Mei wouldn’t make her earn affection like Fuji and Nakahara, and she’d make sure to compliment her every day. She’d buy Nene chocolates and flowers even if there wasn’t a special occasion. Nene would return the favor by buying Mei little things that remind her of her, like charm bracelets and stuffed animals. Soon enough Mei would have a small collection of all the plushies Nene’s bought her. Nene would also hold Mei’s hand at doctor appointments whenever she has to get shots, or just whenever she’s nervous. I could see Mei playing some sport like softball or volleyball and Nene going to all of her games. All in all they’d be a very strong and loving couple that cannot be pulled apart, the entire school would eagerly be awaiting invitations to their wedding

I would also like to present you with the poly ship of Aoimeinene, they are very silly to me. And I also ship both Aoi and Nene with the No.4 version of Mei as well, tho I imagine those dynamics would be different bcuz I interpret the Meis as being different. I love both Meis very dearly, they’re one of the highlights of the manga imo

[a-slut-for-smut]

crackpot Utahime cursed technique theory

it’s a bit dated/headcanon-y now with latest jjk spoilers but supposedly she has other cursed techniques beyond what’s established in the leaks so here it goes:

despite my love for powerful and intimidating female fighters, I never saw Utahime being one in the conventional sense. I couldn’t see her as a pure offensive type like Mei Mei that just exudes confidence in their physical prowess, nor pure defensive/supportive like Shoko with her healing techniques. She’s distinguished as a beloved and renowned teacher, yet has a chaotic energy beneath the surface (which tends to erupt whenever gojos around). She’s established as sassy, capable and doesn’t mince words but overall we dont see her as violent (except again whenever gojos around 😆) id LIKE to think that might relate to her unrevealed techniques?

Naturally the popular theory it relates to singing, and I like to still think it does despite the leaks. Her CT would be similar to a siren/lorelei that her songs allures or spellbounds others to commit their own self-destruction in its most offensive state (or with the weakest enemies), compel mid level enemies into a neutral/non-combative state or even induce sleep, and finally against the strongest enemies, are made more susceptible to coercion or at the very least negotiation.

a CT like this is particularly handy as a teacher (esp if students are rowdy), It’s a diplomatic non-aggressive approach to a CT but still very formidable in its own right and I think it would be fitting to her character (from what we’ve seen of it). who knows, with her amplifying her own power maybe the big fight ends not with a bang and a bunch of deaths but in peace with a few choice words- now wouldn’t THAT be a twist???

basically, Utahime when the going gets tough:

[icy-watch]

So, Wukong stole the map from the protection of Ne Zha. I'm thinking Ne Zha is going to be less than happy about that. I don't think he'd try to get revenge, that's kind of beneath him, but he's at least going to fight with Wukong when they run into one another again.

Macaque is back, and he's having a Time. Lady Bone Demon is using him (like she does with everyone), MK tried to inadvertently kill him, and Wukong isn't happy with him. I'm feeling that his arc this season will be to get over his anger and hurt from the past, and starting to move on to being a better person. Er, monkey.

I'm thinking the Lady Bone Demon wants Wukong and (more importantly) MK back. She didn't get all of his power. She couldn't. My theory about MK feels pretty... it feels pretty close to coming to the surface here. Hm...

I didn't think about it until now, but how are they going to get to the moon? Can Mei fix their carrier or is MK going to learn some cloud magic? *Icy just wants MK to get his Nimbus* I really hope that's it.

Ok, 1 more episode tonight

[vampiricspells]

☆ || demolition lovers.

𝙫𝙖𝙢𝙥𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙨™

DEMOLITION LOVERS MASTERLIST

ANASTASIYA: Do you have to enjoy it quite so much?

KAZ: Making him scared? You enjoy doing it too, don't lie Ana.

— ☆ —

𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗬𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧

demolition lovers || my chemical romance

pantomime || orgy

razorblade kiss || him

trouble || cage the elephant

king of the damned || palaye royale

get me through the night || gunfire 76

.haunted. || dead poet society

— ☆ —

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗖𝗔𝗦𝗧 𝗢𝗙 '𝙙𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨':

Anastasiya Stellan

. . .Alice Kremelberg. . .

. . .Freddy Carter. . .

Kaz Brekker

—

inej ghafa. . .amita suman

jesper fahey. . .kit young

nina zenik. . .danielle galligan

wylan van eck. . .jack wolfe

alina starkov. . .jessie mei li

malyen oretsev. . .archie renaux

the darkling. . .ben barnes

nikolai lantsov. . .patrick gibson

!! anyone else mentioned are played by their respective actors or as described !!

Anastasiya Stellan experienced a resurrection of sorts the moment she awoke on the other side of the fold. Though she had crossed over in her late teens, she found herself devoid of memories, oblivious to the sacrifices made to secure her passage.

Residing in Ketterdam proved to be a stark departure from her birthplace of Ravka. The city teemed with shadows, its alleys harboring a legion of criminals. Yet even in Ravka, where deceit lurked beneath the surface, the villains remained cloaked in the guise of respectability. It was in Ketterdam where Anastasiya encountered Kaz Brekker, a chance encounter at a local tea shop evolving into an unexpected companionship, the two finding solace in each other's company during her breaks.

Though aware of Kaz's illicit dealings, Anastasiya kept her own counsel. While Kaz extended invitations to join his enterprise, she demurred, biding her time until she felt prepared to take the plunge.

Anastasiya reveled in her subtle defiance, relishing in tormenting the Dime Lions with harmless pranks and subtle subversions. Kaz's sporadic absences didn't initially arouse Inej's suspicions until she chanced upon him deep in conversation with Anastasiya, a serene moment that piqued her curiosity. Determined to unravel the mystery surrounding this enigmatic girl, Inej forged her own bond with Anastasiya.

Misjudged as a mere tea-maker and cleaner, Anastasiya concealed her true prowess, reveling in nighttime escapades orchestrated alongside Kaz. Despite her clandestine affiliation with the Dregs, she maintained a careful distance from Kaz's public persona, refusing to be tethered by labels until she deemed herself ready.

Her eventual integration into the Dregs, particularly the crows, marked a significant milestone, evoking smiles from Inej, Jesper's astonishment tempered by warmth, and Kaz's subtle but unmistakable approval.

𝙫𝙖𝙢𝙥𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨!!

KAZ FIC !! i have an emotional attachment

to the crows atp. i recently watched renegade

nell and fell in love with sofia wilmot (played by Alice kremelberg). i hope you enjoy this fic and i hope my writings good enough that you can't figure out anastasiya's secrets before i write them :)

also in the show the crows are obviously aged up so im going off that, im not going to age them up that much but yk.

kaz: 21, jesper: 21, anastasiya: 21, inej: 20. ana has been in ketterdam since she was about 16, met kaz the same year, started working for kaz at 18, then started working properly with the crows when she was 19.

[middenway]

The colour of Turning Red – Part 6

Here's a link to Part 1.

To the party! I like that this character who gets Priya in a way that no other character does just happens to be coded with the purples from Priya's introduction...

And, it should come as no surprise that when Tyler's party kicks off, it's vibrant purple.

Meanwhile, red is taking over Ming's world. Look at how she's kept in the red portion of the scene until she decides, once again, to do what is expected of her and crosses into the teal portion.

And then Ming goes into Mei's room and discovers what she's been hiding from her. It is no coincidence that this secret self is once again under Mei's bed and this scene is utterly red. Also note the foreshadowing of Ming breaking the picture of her and Mei as this relationship is about to fracture.

This is the same bedroom from a few seconds ago, but look how the red lighting transforms it.

It seems funny, since Mei is hanging out with her friends, that this scene is dominated by teal. But she's avoiding her responsibilities at Tyler's party, and as the scene progresses it's clear she still intends to seal her panda.

Very importantly, this scene draws attention to her pink Tamagotchi, an object that will be used to tap into important themes later.

As the scene progresses, the two versions versions of herself are put into conflict and the teal becomes intense.

Then we have the moment of betrayal.

And Mei takes her mother's hand and moves away for the colour of her friends into shadow.

This scene in the car, with Ming holding Mei's hand, is so cold.

All the colour is far away and behind Mei. And ahead of her is much more plain.

This scene around the dinner table is all in red, showing the intense feelings just beneath the surface in Wu, Ming, and Mei.

Then we get this moment with Jin in the basement. Look at the contrast in these two shots...

...and how the lighting on Jin's face has shifted to pink.

And I like this moment with Jin and Mei. The red lighting starts off capturing Mei's growing anxiety about the ceremony, but it becomes a positive thing as Jin talks to her. The shadows soften. Red is not a negative colour; it's a lucky one. Plus, they're discussing Ming here, so there is appropriately a lot of teal in the scene, but it's lit warmly.

To be continued in Part 7...

[secondsovereign]

@voidrifter asked:

[PHOTO OP] - "Huh? Mr. Yang?"

Kiana blinks, incredulous. It's undoubtedly him, and at this rate she should really stop asking questions when people show up places unexpected, but still. She gives him a good hard squint, just to be sure, then breaks into a smile. "It's been..." She shakes her head suddenly, not quite ready to admit how weeks have slipped by and become years since, well, everything. "A while. Uh, where've you been?" Why are you here. He has as much of a right as her-- probably more of one, honestly-- but either way. Another shake of her head. "It doesn't matter, actually. I need a favor." From her jacket pocket is withdrawn a little camera, which she waves at him with a lopsided smile. "Mei wants stuff for her scrapbook, and it'd make a nice surprise for Bronya when I see her again. I'll make it quick, promise!"

'There is a longer way ahead, After all...'

-> It's undoubtably her, even ten long years later he'd know that unmistakable laughter anywhere. Siegfried loved to brag that she took after him, and yet every time Joachim looked at her all he saw was Cecilia and the young woman he'd once given a failing grade to in his role as her history teacher. She's taller now, more mature, and yet he can still see the echoes of the girl who used to drag Raiden Mei across the campus in search of crêpes while Bronya stared with that subtle hint of amusement.

'If it's too hard to say goodbye....'

-> "Kiana..." There's a hint of watery eyes, a relief at one of his favourite students standing before him, when last he saw of her was a deep slumber in which he wasn't certain she'd awaken. He'd felt a responsibility for her in a way that transcended that of a teacher, a by-product of his lasting friendship with Siegfried maybe, or an eternal hope that she'd surpass even her mother's triumphs while living the life of the girl who trapped herself in a beautiful dream. Where has he been, indeed? He can't admit to hunting the sky people across the cosmos, nor to chasing the memory of the woman who'd given her life to burn away the remnants of the monster Sirin was twisted into. "Space, the great expanse a certain woman once dreamed of exploring."

'...Give us a try to sing a rhyme'

-> Bronya... he wants to ask about her so desperately, but he knows better, knows that opening that door will only bring heartache for the man who had so recently seen what could have happened that faithful day in Nagazora if Mei had failed in her objective. Joachim hopes, like he always has, that his student is living her life to the fullest, but even so he's unable to refuse the request of the smiling woman before him. An outstretched hand, offering to take the photo wordlessly in hopes of immortalising the memory of the smiling Herrscher of Finality forever.

-> 'May you, the beauty of this world, always shine,' The song written in secret before the girl had departed to the moon, echoing so vividly in his mind that the tearful happiness has to be quickly wiped away before the woman before him can notice it. He's never vocalised it, and yet the paternal affection is still there bubbling beneath the surface, how could it not when she'd risen higher and higher like a star threatening to burst through the sky despite every hardship placed before her.

"Hah... One for us too I hope, if only Cecilia could see you now. She'd be oh so proud, KIANA."

[imminent-danger-came]

I can't wait for the S4 finale episodes to solidify MK as monkie. Maybe we get a scene with MK's war form and Azure going "...fuck."

Also good mentor Sun Wukong moment where he apologizes because he has no idea what's going on but he's pretty sure it's fault and he manages to calm MK from war form.

ME TOO. The way MK being a monkey has been playing out is so thematically delicious for MK as a character. IT'S GOT IT ALL. His identity being literally shattered, all roads leading "to pain", being "just like Wukong", his self-worth being lower than it's ever been—as an MK fan, it does not get any better than this let me tell you.

I've discussed here and here why I think MK's creation is 100% Wukong's doing (or at the least partly his doing) and that he knew about MK's origins the whole time, but dear anon, you and I agree that Wukong will have his good mentor moment.

The end of 3x14 was a good start, but Wukong has hurt MK, and this is something MK has never confronted/discussed with Wukong himself. Mei did so on his behalf in 3x10, and Curse MK did so in 4x07, but we haven't had MK really and truly express himself to Monkey King directly (more on that later). So now we've had 4 seasons and 3 specials worth of building and unresolved tension, and you can see MK's hurt bubbling beneath the surface.

In the Revenge of the Spider Queen special, Sun Wukong unknowingly made MK feel like he couldn't help. Like he "couldn't do anything on his own". He—in a way—abandoned MK at the beginning of s2, "leaving him to figure out everything on his own". He wasn't honest or upfront to MK or the rest of the gang about his half-formed plan to defeat the Lady Bone Demon. Honestly, even expecting MK to face Demon Bull King on his own was...a debatable choice. Yes, fighting demons just like that was how Sun Wukong learned (it also being what he did in JTTW), but that doesn't mean that's what MK needs. Plenty of characters have pointed out that Wukong is a terrible mentor (Macaque in 2x07, Pigsy in 2x10, Mei in 3x10, SWK himself in 3x14), and I'm inclined to agree.

This isn't to say that Wukong doesn't already have any good mentor moments, or that he doesn't care about and love MK (he truly does), but he's flawed. Wukong's choices and mistakes have affected MK, and now MK doesn't want to hurt the people he loves in the same way Wukong has hurt him:

Curse MK: "We’re just like Wukong. A fraud! A trickster! Destructive! Why would our legacy be any different? Actually, no no- the chaos and destruction we’ll bring upon the world will make Wukong’s past look like nothing."

(4x07 Pitiful Creatures)

-

MK: “And the most messed up thing is, I- I never even realized, never even questioned who I am, or where I come from, or why, or- Until I know what I am, what my destiny is? I can’t risk hurting the people I care about—the one’s I have left.”

(4x08 The Brotherhood)

-

And oh, is it BEAUTIFUL irony. The 4x08 scene I listed above is a direct parallel to SWK in 3x10. MK, in one sense, doesn't know anything about himself, yet he knows everything he needs to: he's exactly like Wukong, fated to "hurt the people who care about [him] the most". After all, that's exactly what just happened. MK, desperate to save Monkey King from Azure Lion, gave into his anger and frustration and went full on monkey demon. His goal was to free his beloved mentor from his prison, yet it only led to Wukong's scroll piece getting sliced in half.

And so, motivated by fear, MK in 4x08 does the exact same thing Wukong does to him at the end of 3x10: MK runs off, MK leaves (JUST like he does in 2x05, 2x10, and the entirety of s3). This causes the people who care about him to worry, inadvertently hurting them in the process. And, oh, is it SO GOOD. LBD was right, there is no running, destiny will always catch up.

[The rest of the meta will be under the cut!]

MK ran away because he didn't want to hurt anyone more, which is the exact reason Wukong ran away at the end of s3 and even disappeared for hundreds of years:

MK: "*sigh* You think Monkey King ever felt like this? Maybe that's why he stayed up on this mountain, just having a good time with you guys. You know cause- cause he knew he'd be out of the way where he couldn't hurt anyone he cared about." (4x09 Roast of the Monkie Kids)

Wukong wanted to stop hurting MK, to keep him out of his fights, so he ran away from MK and towards his own demise. Doing things alone has never worked out for anyone in this show, and ultimately, Wukong only ended up hurting MK more. It's tragedy at it's finest.

If you'd like another punch in the gut, this 4x01 scene is particularly great for doing that:

MK, staring into his reflection, compares himself to Monkey King—seeing every bad trait in himself and none of the good. "We're just like Wukong." MK believes he's a fraud, tricking all the good in his life into being there.

Curse MK: "You can see it, can't you? This is your fate. Your friends will turn on you, seeing you for the monster you will become. They will destroy you, harbinger of chaos. It's just like the Lady Bone Demon said—despite your efforts, all you'll ever do is cause pain and suffering." (4x07 Pitiful Creatures)

So, let's finally go back to MK having never confronted Wukong.

There are already plenty of reasons for MK to feel hurt, but now we've only added to the pile with MK's past, and how Monkey King hid it from him. The end of 4x08 already parallels 3x10 in so many lovely ways, however, I believe we are due for a second 3x10 parallel.

Mei: "You knew. All along you knew I had this THING inside of me. And you hid it from ALL of us! Why? What were you afraid of, that you were going to have to TEAR me apart to get your precious Samadhi fire!?" (3x10 The Samadhi Fire)

This scene alone is paralleled to with MK and Curse MK in 4x07. It's another piece of evidence for the fact that Sun Wukong definitely knew about MK, but it's ALSO evidence for MK finally confronting Wukong after the truth comes out. Just like Monkey King knew about the ring inside Mei, he also knew about MK. Just like Mei snapped and revealed all of her pent up anger towards Sun Wukong, MK will do the same thing.

I don't particularly know what war form is, but I have heard a cry in my notes of people like me who want to see MK go berserk, and I am hear to provide evidence for those people of that likely happening. Let's look at the couple of times we've already seen MK flicker into monkey demon form:

(I hope you enjoyed my "Scary MK Moments" compilation.)

MK's cracking the ground around him, he's flickering, he's even catching some of his friends in the sheer force he's emanating. When MK becomes a Monkey Demon, it's never treated as a good thing narrative-wise. The first time MK fully enters this form it's at the end of 4x07 when he defeats the curse, which then directly causes Wukong to become trapped in the scroll and Azure to free Peng and Yellowtusk. The next time MK goes full on Monkey Wukong's scroll piece get's cut in two. Both times, MK doesn't feel in total control.

In fact, MK choosing NOT to indulge in his monkey demon form is met with much more success:

Macaque: "You don’t want to fight Azure because people might get hurt, you don’t want to not fight him because people might get hurt--so do something else! Only you get to decide who you are kiddo." (4x10 The Jade Emperor)

And then that's what MK does, he chooses not to fight and instead steals back Wukong's scroll piece. His choice to save and protect the people he cares about rather than to fight back is the right one—he even runs away with his loved ones rather than without them. But even then, MK has to choose to resist his Monkey form:

It's all very in line with "harbinger of chaos" and how we could ever get to a point his friends would ever turn on him.

At the end of 3x10, Mei herself goes out of control—but MK refuses to let her go or abandon her. Instead he runs directly towards the fire, reaching for his friend, successfully bringing Mei back to herself. I 100% believe that Mei will do the same thing for MK. At the end of 4x08, we even see her start to make that same reach:

But MK leaves before she's able to.

This makes me think it will happen later, and that we'll get to hear her say "We can figure this out together!", as done previously many times.

I imagine it playing out something like this: MK goes into SWK's scroll piece to fix it from the inside, going through Wukong's memories along the way. MK comes across Wukong's memory of his creation—this is when things take a turn for the worse, as MK slips into Monkey Demon form and confronts the real Wukong about it (this scene would be a lovely parallel to 3x10 and Samadhi fire Mei). Wukong—meaning well—says the wrong things/reveals information that only makes everything worse. This pushes MK to go fully berserk and instigates the Sun Wukong V MK fight of my dreams. Their fight causes the two to break out of the scroll, giving Mei the opportunity to calm MK down.

Wukong being Wukong, is going to want to make it up to MK. With everything now out in the open, I think he's going to be able to do exactly that, and we'll get our good mentor moment.

[ofdragns]

BRYN LLYWELYN / a study in naïveté, growing up, and shirking one's responsibilities ; a story of loyalty to oneself & one's family, at the expense of all else

• rider of ardenach • second prince of lyris • aged twenty-eight • rider for the past six years

laying beneath a tree in the midst of  a field of wildflowers in full bloom   ;  a lake’s surface, inches of crystal-clear ice revealing the inky depths beneath  ;  summer days when it feels like you’re drowning in air, without the slightest hint of a breeze to ease the heat   ;  the crunch of pebbles beneath your feet on a well-worn hiking path high in the mountains   ;  a faded and frayed tapestry hanging on a wall, disguising a hidden passage

[ I. ] statistics.

full name : prince bryn eirwen llywelyn nicknames & aliases : bee, bells, bree title/s : their royal highness, captain

age : twenty-eight date of birth : the seventh day of the fourth month, 1512 a.s. place of birth : the royal palace, lyris

gender : gender non conforming pronouns : she/they orientation : bisexual

face claim : jessie mei li height : 160 cm / 5'3" hair : black, long, wavy eyes : black style of dress : anything heavily embroidered — prefers heavier fabrics, and clothes that are easy to move in. blouses and jackets, wide-skirted dresses, etc.

occupation : dragon rider rank : captain of squad 3 weapon : throwing knives

[ II. ] dragon.

name : ardenach nicknames & aliases : arden, akki

age : five hundred & seventy-nine date of birth : the fifteenth day of the second month, 961 a.s. place of birth : cadwyn cyfandir mountain range

sex : female pronouns : she/they

colour : grey horns : antlers tail : feathered nose-to-tail length : 204m wingspan : 425m image : here — this is more what she would have looked like as a young dragon, she is now much, much larger than that.

[ iii. ] history.

born on a clear autumn day, within the royal palace of lyris, bryn eirwen llywelyn was a child best described as headstrong. running about the palace gardens like a whirlwind, the child was known to be found perched in trees or on precarious rooftops and balconies, unwilling to be bound by gravity.

even as they grew older, bryn was a child who refused to submit to such base ideas as normalcy or be constrained by the rules of society. as the second child within the royal family, they had some freedom from expectations, but they still chafed at the milder restrictions they were subject to.

when bryn was twenty, her parents had finally had enough of her disobedience and recklessness, and encouraged bryn to enlist in the city guard. reluctantly, she did so — and promptly found it delightful. while her freedom was curtailed somewhat, as a guard she had plenty of opportunities to meet the people of lyris informally and formally, and make friends who saw her not as the prince but as just another guard.

but all good things must come to an end — after two years as a guard, bryn finally got her parents' permission to participate in the next rider selection. riding a dragon would be a dream come true — and it was, when she first bonded with ardenach. the pair quickly became one of the more formidable duos within the riders' force, and bryn discovered the downside to being a rider.

no more could they be just another city guard — instead, after that ceremony, everyone knew them as the second prince and ardenach's rider. the last person to ride ardenach was said to be one of the city's founders, who hatched the dragon themselves ... so to become her second rider, made bryn rather well-known in a way their royal status had never done.

six years on, and bryn is the captain of squad 3, still not entirely comfortable with being famous, and extremely glad their bond with akki prevents them ever having to take over the administrative duties of the monarch and heir.

[prettyiwa]

Miyuki Kazuya x Reader content tags: meet-ugly, mentions of alcohol use, post-canon word count: 500 prequel to His Name

The first time you say his name, he likes it a little too much. His full name, following a lousy introduction, and the way you speak it gives the impression that you’re testing it for future use, deciding whether it’s something you wish to remember. Kazuya surprises himself when he catches himself hoping that you do—a small, fleeting thing that interrupts the regular beating of his heart.

It starts with a spilled drink and a bad joke.

Reluctant to attend yet another one of Sawamura’s “small get-together between old friends” has him meeting you. It’s nothing spectacular and he doesn’t give you a second thought when you join his group with Ryousuke by your side, laughing at something he said. The moment you reach for a glass is the moment someone pushes Sawamura into you, leaving Kazuya wearing your drink.

The next minute or so hosts a flurry of apologies and the laughing of Kuramochi and Ryousuke and an exchange of words he can’t remember because your drink is cold and his pants are wet. You’re the only one who follows him into the kitchen, the only one offering to help remedy Sawamura’s mistake, ultimately unaware of the irritation itching beneath the surface. With just enough alcohol in his bloodstream, he makes a bold joke, realizing too late that it’s with someone unfamiliar.

Your question dies on your tongue and you shift your gaze so you’re no longer looking at the towel in your hand or the stain on his pants but at him. Your disbelief quickly melts away and he kicks himself for reverting to old habits before you hit him with it.

“What’s your name?”

“Miyuki Kazuya.” You repeat it, turning it over in your mouth as he waits, ready to use this incident as yet another reason why he shouldn’t be forced to attend these things.

“Well, Miyuki Kazuya, you should probably ask a person out on a date before saying something like that.”

He’s never particularly cared about the sound of his name, not the way it’s angrily shouted by Sawamura, not the way it’s tauntingly used by Mei, and certainly not the way it’s chanted by fans, but he likes the way you say it. Challenging with a hint of playfulness, almost like you can’t help yourself.

Interest piqued, he asks for your number. Instead of answering, you ask whether he’s the same “Miyuki” notorious for riling up Sawamura, as per “Ryou.” He answers your question, and there it is again—that tiny little hiccup, a tiny half-flutter in his chest. A smile blooms on your lips and that feeling stays in his chest, though you don’t indicate what that answer means to you.

So he asks again, irritation abandoned in favor of stoking his curiosity, encouraging you to say yes with the promise to properly apologize for his inane comment well away from tonight.

It starts with a spilled drink and a bad joke and ends with a text from you.

Fond of You | Daiya no Ace Masterlist

A/N: This is still not the Kazuya story I want to write. We'll see if I end up keeping it limited to 6 total entries or if I end up expanding it to 11. @tyga-lily, I welcome any and all teasing you have to offer. The bastard won't leave me alone again.

[screechingkroh]

I seem to have a horrid habit of focusing on world building instead of the stories! That said, have some facts abt both stories and their worlds!!

A Seer of Secrets

All four celestial monkeys know of each other’s existence (obvs). But the Long-Armed Gibbon and the Red Buttock Baboon have ultimately decided that dealing w Macaque and Wukong is NOT worth it. Good choice LMAO

Demon courting is kind of weird. Female demons tend to be more aggressive with courting

Speaking of courting, kidnapping is part of it but it’s consensual. Well… nowadays it is. But you don’t realize it because they disguise it as an “I’m surprise visiting you… and now we’re going to my house. Pack a week's worth of clothes.”

Seers and Oracles usually have an item or symbol that connects them to divinity. I wonder what Seer’s item is.

Demon food is USUALLY spicy. For some reason, MK and Mei can withstand it but Wukong lowkey struggles? He doesn’t question it much. They're a weird duo.

There's this huge ass under-market for demons. I'm talking multiple districts kind of big. It's based on the five phases of Chinese philosophy. So you've got Fire, Water, Wood, Gold, and Earth. The District levels go in order as the inter-promoting direction... Or generating direction (I wanted to feel fancy). So it goes Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and then Water. But it's in this big circle that spirals upwards. It's pretty cool because the transition from the Water District to the Wood District is by a massive waterfall that has these big rock platforms that act like an elevator. So, it's kind of tapping into the whole "controls" thing of the uhhhh.... inter-regulating part.

Speaking of the districts, there is ONE place that is considered pure neutral territory. And that would be the Earth section. Simply because Earth is meant to represent " patience, thoughtfulness, practicality, hard work, and stability." This is also where demons can find items that can help with healing 'n their abilities! It's where most markets are set up due to the unspoken truce.

The Wood and Fire district tends to get... really heated. Especially in the Fire District. The space between Wood and Fire is highly populated. So a lot of fighting happens and it's considered far enough from the Earth District. This is where demons like to just... bust out the moves and get into nasty fights. So if you can survive running through the Fire District (where there are a lot of fights over territory) and to Earth, consider yourself lucky. And fucked, because the moment you step out of the Earth District, someone is on your ass.

Water isn't exactly where demons live. It's more of a uh... "If I can't be on the surface for a hot moment or so, I can chill here and not be bothered" kind of place. But it's usually for those real big hot-shot guys. So the Demon Bull Family, for example.

You Were Nothing Like Me

You guys don't understand. I have almost 5,000 words on the doc. That's more than ASOS, sadly.

Everyone's names are based on Constellations because I'm unoriginal. The only people who aren't are the brothers... And Queen Astra, who is Outertale Toriel.

The Void? Yes, it's sentient. It lets Gaster be an invisible guiding hand.

It also oddly likes chocolate.

Monsters know ASL. This is because of a bunch of ASL content being found-- why was it in the dumpster? Who knows! But it's benefited the monster community, and it's gotten the favor of the Deaf Community! Because they're more accepting than others.

I made three official holidays for Monsters and pulled the names out of my fucking ass at 3 AM. Gyftmas, of course, exist. It happens on the Third of every December. Monsters originally guessed based on the crystals in Waterfall. Which would dim during the summer and brighten up during the winter. The brightest day just so happens to be the third Wednesday of December without fail. Why do the crystals dim during the summer? Because monster magic, despite being beneath the ground for literal centuries, accommodated the heat by glowing brighter. Why does glowing brighter help? Because why not. It's like when fireflies come out during May and June. Because. Day of Silence is a pretty somber day. It is a-- uh-- a day dedicated to the Royal Family and their lost children. Most monsters take this day off and mourn the fallen prince and child. It's said that you can hear their souls mourning throughout the underground... Said sound gets louder when the fusion of Outertale happens. Yup. Sunset Feast is a really happy one. It's the day the barrier broke! Because woohoo, freedom. Their version of the 4th of July. So, fun fact about this holiday. Frisk broke the barrier the same fucking day it was created. And it, thus, replaced the old holiday Feast of Darkness. Anyways, Sunset Feast is where monsters gather near a large clearing that's by the entrance of Ebott and-- uh-- watch the sunset! Big feast, too. Really fun and loud! Lots of music 'n stuff.

Who named those holidays, you ask? Not Asgore. That's for fucking sure. Not with his shitty naming skills. It was actually Toriel, who named them. I refuse to believe both of them had shitty naming skills. Toriel was good at naming things because I said so.

Typhas, or known as water sausages, have three different forms. You have Snow Typhas, which are commonly closer to Snowdin, and are pretty sweet! They're actually used to making icing or Nice Cream. You also have Spice Typhas, which are closer to HotLands and are used as a spice! The spiciest part of Spice Typhas are the seeds, kind of like peppers!

Depending on where you're at in the underground, you get unique currency. Gold is the overarching one, but sometimes you gotta make some fun unique ones. The Ruins doesn't have currency minus gold. They like to bargain and trade. Snowdin uses Milky Quartz. Waterfall uses Water Opals. HotLand uses Rubies. The Core uses Quartz. The Castle uses Sapphires. And the Court and Royal Family use diamonds... but not a lot of people see them.

I can go on for actual days about YWNLM's world building. I think about this world too much. I-- I just... I love it. It makes me happy.

[maddoc05]

She’d always known. Some awful, exhilarating part of her. 

Long before his arms had closed in around her, knowing just as easily that the Samadhi fire could devour him in the blink of an eye, she had known that there were no ends of the earth that she wouldn’t cross for him. She exhales now, stomach twisting violently, as the golden glow of Mr Tang’s spell covers the ground. His eyes are bright with tears, nearly golden and aching.

“Truly unfortunate timing,” MK says, voice dead and cold and all wrong. He stands, a puppet, a doll in the roiling embrace of the wind that buffets the peak. Ivory and crimson scratches against the side of his head from where his fingernails had cut it. Mei wants so desperately to forget the memory of him brought to his knees, the single short agonising howl he had let out as that monster had done something to him.

(broken a seal that was never meant to be unlocked)

But she knows now that it’s the last thing that she will ever have of the MK that was unthinkingly her best friend, that had spent countless hours in the arcade with her, that had made the world all the more brighter. 

“To see if the monster can grow a heart,” MK continues, and there’s nothing inside of Mei as his rage, divine and gilded, spills over and the next roaring surge of power sends the Monkey King rocketing across the sky like a ragdoll. Distantly, she thinks she hears Nezha shouting at him to stop holding back and I’m sorry, Wukong, I know you cared for him but -

I’m not, the Monkey King shouts back.

You lied to him, Mei doesn’t say, lied to all of us again . Why couldn’t you tell us - she knows why. It would have broken MK. 

Just like it breaks him now too.

“I just wanted to be me. To be MK.” He says, and something cold and hard enters his posture, as sharp and fragile as broken bits of glass. He turns his head, and finally faces them, but not meeting Pigsy’s eyes, not hers. The bandana scarcely more than ribbons in the breeze, torn and ripped at the seams. Only a single molten, golden eye shines. “But it seems destiny has other plans.”

The earth beneath their feet splits. Tang yelps, thrown off balance as he crashes into Pigsy, and that’s more than enough for his concentration to break the spell. Macaque’s hand encircles around her wrist and pulls her away from the edge; he’s still not looking at her, there’s an emotion suspiciously akin to premature grief that lurks in the edges of his face.

“You wanna see a monster?” MK challenges, “I’ll show you a monster!”

She thinks Pigsy lets out a sob.

Sea-glass violet stretches below. It’s a large expanse, the waves rolling across the empty surface of the beach, so close that she can taste sand in her throat and sunscreen in her nostrils, the echoes of who they once were forming and dissipating in the heartbeat of wishing that time could turn back. Just a few more months, hours even.

But the dandelion seeds Mei blows never sprouts. All that exists is concrete and marble and the hands that pluck the weeds from the ground. 

It’s not the Monkey King’s training sessions that form him to what he is now. Mei has stood by MK’s side through countless nights, as he’d struggled in containing the power that abruptly flowed through his veins, as irrevocable as pumping blood. She has helped him stuff tissues up his nose when it started to bleed from too much astral projection. All because his mentor had been nowhere in sight.

And every hurt, every cut and wound that could have been avoided should have. 

He’s hurting even now. Gold spills out from the cracks of his skin ( all Mei can once see is blue as the universe rips itself to shreds ) and it is a storm shored up from inside, she can’t clean this wound with running water or bandages or band-aids, it’s inside of him like the Samadhi fire had carved a home inside of her, but she won’t, can’t, can’t bear to summon those flames against him. 

Somehow, she knows that he’s not seeing them. Not Pigsy or Tang or Sandy. History is a cruel weight like that, a noose. Inescapable. Mei should know, after all. 

They are ants, in the face of the giant form that he assumes. And even more so, as the Monkey King matches him blow for blow.

(all she sees is gold)

It crackles in the sky, fireworks of stars and dust, thundering as frequently as the patter of rain as they zip across the broken sky. Nearly too fast for her to make out what is even going on. Another instance, in which Mei has never felt so helpless before. 

(gold against shadows, against the eclipsing sun)

There is a split second in which she still doesn’t register who she is rooting for to win. 

And then she does.

“Tang, do it!” Pigsy chokes. He’s shivering violently.

Mr Tang starts the spell again. Gold spreads the earth - mocking them all - and the jade of her sword starts to glow. Her feet are lead, her heart a hummingbird’s wings, and her mind hurts. It’s easy to stand still and do nothing.

It’s wonderfully easier still to rocket across the sky and force both Monkey King and Macaque at bay, her ancestral dragon form snarling and breathing green flames tinged with splashes of crimson. For a moment, there is agony. Like it rips something fundamental within her.

It must have. Because her dragon form is warping and crackling, no longer anything resembling that of her ancestors. It burns, white hot, like collapsing galaxies coalesced in liquid form. 

She has her own shadow, as she strangles the fighting beast into submission, darker shades of jade falling coiled lovingly like a snake across MK’s form. The world shrinks, so very far and insignificant. She stands in front of him, and does what she has always done best: protect him. 

Her own words mock her. The ones that care about you the most.

And here they were preparing to put an end to MK, just like she had heard them debate on doing to her when the Samadhi fire had tried to consume her. Reasoning was illogical in the face of emotion - in the flickering, lashing flames of the fire that still thrummed like a forest wildfire inside of her. 

“What are you-”

“ Mei! ” The Monkey King says, sharp and pained. He’s already reaching, propelled by the writhing shadows that boost him, prepared to pluck the heart from the very sun if he has to. Even through the spectre of his long dead friend, her ancestor, that now guards the herald that he tries so very hard to trade the universe for. 

It doesn’t matter.

The Samadhi fire still keeps him at bay.

Or it chars him. She doesn’t care to know. 

If any of the others called her name, she was too far to hear it.

Heat roars behind her. It does nothing but feed her own flames. She still loved him with a sort of desperation that verged on madness. “No-” He lets out a scream, and the world is kindling against seared palms, but that’s okay, because even as they crash out of the sky like falling stars, they are still together. MK and Mei. Just like it has always been, and forever be.

Come back, she doesn’t say.

We’ll figure it out together, she doesn’t say.

The universe has already begun tearing, like folded paper. She knows with a comforting certainty that all that exists are these precious few seconds left.

“MK.” She says, calm. His heartbeat is cradled against her palm, and hers with him, and the fall is endless against the abyss of crystal saltwater. 

He is ice thawing, lucidity and clarity drifting. “You know that bad guys are meant to be destroyed, right? They would have put an end to-”

“You.” Mei says, “Us.”

“She was right. I was right. All I bring is pain.” He says. 

“Not to me.” 

Broken, “I’m sorry.” His head lolls in her grasp, crumpled like a puppet. He’s trying to convince her, or maybe himself. “It felt so right. I- I don’t know.” His eyes are bright, despite the lack of light. 

She tilts her head, at peace with this constant. “Then we burn together.”

[all-eyes-lead-to-the-truth]

All Eyes Lead to the Truth | Hell Money (3x19)

Hsin Shuyang had never been a lucky man. Any and all moves he made would just pave the way for an opponent’s checkmate, his heads or tails flips always failed to land in his favor — it seemed that life dealt him a perpetually losing hand.

That is, until he met Mei.

He still couldn’t believe such a beautiful, kind woman fell in love with him. Shuyang was a simple man. He’d never been on the receiving end of a bow, and he did work that most people considered beneath them. For most of their relationship, Shuyang waited with bated breath for her to realize she’d made a mistake. But she never did. 

Mei married him, took his last name, and gave him a daughter. For a few years, he was foolish enough to think himself a fortunate man. After all, his daughter was the best thing he’d ever done with his life. It was impossible for him to think of his life as worthless anymore because she was part of him.

They were happy for a while, but when the political unrest became too much, he suggested they move to America. Mei was thrilled. She had always wanted to have more children, and when they got to America, they could finally give Kim a sibling. Their children would have access to resources and freedom they’d only dreamed of.

He always knew this process would be difficult, but he felt like oil that kept floating to the surface of the country’s melting pot. The Americans always spoke to him in English too fast for him to follow, their faces turning into something like pity, sometimes disdain, when he struggled to reply. When he heard laughter, he never knew what was funny but smiled anyway. After a few months here, he quickly realized they didn’t find him worth the hassle of navigating a language barrier, so he simply kept his head down and kept to himself.

But Shuyang didn’t listen to his family’s disapproval about coming to America, and he should have known he would pay the price. After all, his luck was bound to run out sooner or later. 

A year after they arrived, a month before Kim’s high school graduation, his wife died of a sudden heart attack. The next year, his daughter fell ill. 

He felt guilty. It was his family’s sickness he passed down. All his wife had wanted was a baby, and the idea of a little child with a blend of their features haunted his days more than he was proud to admit. But as he stood in her doorway, watching his precious daughter struggle to live, he cursed his own selfishness. Her mother gave her silken hair and an ineffable kindness and empathy that sometimes made him feel unworthy of being her father. He gave her a disease that threatened to shorten a life not yet lived.

Sometimes he wondered if his daughter was being punished for the sins of his past. Had he caused his family so much shame that his ancestors thought he wasn’t worthy of having any? If that was the case, would his wife be waiting in Heaven for a husband who would never join her? For a husband destined to burn for eternity because he could never quite figure out how to get a winning hand in this rigged game called life.

Other days it was too painful to imagine there was a god. He couldn’t reconcile a divine being that would cause someone as wonderful as her to live a life of pain and suffering.

He found himself sitting at her bedside often. He was too ashamed to let her look at him, but it was impossible for him to stay away from his reason for living. His kind, sweet girl. If she knew what he was doing, she would be so disappointed in him. 

Shuyang held his breath as Kim moved in her sleep, her thin pale arms drawing her thin blankets closer to her chin. It reminded him of when she was a little girl, and the knot in his throat tightened in time with his resolve.

The gods might not be listening, but the devil was waiting for him down the street, ready to play a game with all the men whose American dreams had turned into nightmares.

He closed the door to the apartment slowly, hoping he could avoid making any noise that might disturb Kim, but the back of his heel made contact with something. Looking down, he realized he’d accidentally kicked a bowl of white rice onto a small pile of brightly colored hell money.

A soft smile spread across his face at the sight. He’d been so preoccupied lately that he didn’t even realize this year’s festival was going on. Minding his aching knees, he bent down onto the welcome mat and cleaned up the offerings his daughter had so carefully laid out to keep the spirits at bay. He didn’t know if he believed in it himself, but if this made his daughter feel safe, he wanted to support her efforts. Anything for her.

The brisk evening air bit at Shuyang’s skin as he made his way out of the apartment building, and the pungent odor of sulfur lingered in the air as the festivities from the evening settled down. There was an uneasy tension looming in the streets, and he wondered if it was his dread of the impending game or the presence of ghosts walking alongside him.

He tried to ignore it as he walked across the debris of firecrackers, clutching the money in his pocket as he prayed for a little luck. Once she was healthy again, Kim was going to do so many great things. He knew gambling like this came with a lot of risks, but it would all be worth it if it meant she got a chance to live the life they’d sacrificed so much for. 

He just wanted to see her get better.

Read the rest of All Eyes Lead to the Truth on Ao3

@gaycrouton

[lovingoverwatchguys]

Random tangent: ‘Soldier 76′ is just as much of an image as ‘Strike Commander Morrison’ was

I think people often do Jack a huge disservice when they ‘analyze’ him by taking his image at face value. Often, to understand his thoughts, you can’t take his word for it, and have to look at what he’s feeling beneath.

Let me explain a bit. (Under a read more because I don’t want to clog up any tags with super long posts)

Why would you be able to take his word? Jack has never been able to express himself fully in his entire adult life. He had to put on the image of ‘Strike Commander Morrison’, the beacon of positivity and strict commander, for decades. Because Jack has a massive martyr complex, and he sacrificed being an authentic person because he thought that was what the world needed. The world wanted ‘Strike Commander’; he thought it couldn’t care less about ‘Jack’.

Most people seem to be aware of that, yet they still take ‘Soldier: 76′ at face value as how he actually feels, and it baffles me. No, it’s a (literal and theoretical) mask, just a different one.

Look at how he acts in the Bastet story; he’s willing to crack jokes and have fun with Ana, smiling and saying silly things, to the point that even Ana says he’s “like a child sometimes.”

But that makes sense when you think of his relationship with Ana - as his closest friend, she got to see beneath the mask of ‘Strike Commander Morrison’, and she still can see under this one, too. (Honestly, I think Ana would see right through Jack anyway; he’s not as good at hiding his emotions as he thinks he is)

In fact, image seems to be a theme in Bastet in general - note the way that Ana puts on a new mask to become a protector. It’s the same thing Jack did. He wants to help people, and he thinks this is the best way to do it. Just like before - the world needs ‘Soldier: 76′, and he thinks it couldn’t care less about ‘Jack’.

‘Soldier: 76′ is not a person. He’s a name. An image. (Also, they are so cute. I love them. A cool girl and her gay best friend.)

And to be honest, I think some of the other characters can see through him, to an extent. This interaction has always caught my eye:

What Jack says might sound condescending at first glance, but when you think about the fact that Jack's whole deal is "fighting so other people don't have to"...it makes me think he's concerned for her and doesn't like that she has to fight here. 

I think Mei picks up on that, and that’s why her response is a bit teasing. Tracer does the same with the ‘Okay, dad!’ interaction. The two of them can tell he’s more of a pushover than he lets on, no matter how desperately he tries to hide it.

But I also argue that Soldier: 76 isn’t just an image done out of necessity. I don’t think even Jack himself is aware of this, but it seems very convenient that by donning an aggressive face that shuts other people out, he doesn’t have to let others close to him. 

Some people don’t seem to consider the immense amount of trauma both the fall of Overwatch and the Swiss Base explosion would cause for him. He was surrounded by constant public degradation for months to years. He saw everything he worked for get undone largely because of negative public opinion and betrayal, and was then in a serious disaster that likely had many casualties.

After something like that happens, I doubt he feels safe letting almost anyone close at all. This mask doubly functions to protect him from getting hurt in such a horrible way again. And devoting all of his thoughts and emotion to this moral crusade means he doesn’t have to face all of the real emotional issues he has. It is, as the kids say, a cope.

None of this is to say Jack isn’t bitter or angry. And I’m sure as hell not saying he’s emotionally healthy. He needs more therapy than almost anyone else in the cast.

But so many people only give Jack a surface-level analysis, and I think that’s lame. Ironically, taking the image at face value would in-universe just prove his bad worldview. Life imitates art.