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hisuianhellion · 4 months ago

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Another set of photos and videos from a now closer reality...

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Death. Blood. Violence. Eldritch themes and horror. If you wouldn't play Bloodborne, be wary of this post.

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A photo of a piece of paper. Upon it is a medical record, old as could be but still relatively well printed, that has a hastily scrawled on name at the bottom.

"Rose Waite"

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A recording begins. A tired looking woman with a gaunt chin, a pair of circular glasses and a slightly haggard ponytail behind her head leans into a chair, staring off into space. "I… okay. I don't… really know where to start with this. My name is Rose, Rose Waite. I'm seemingly a Hunter in a place called Yharnam. And I don't remember anything from this point back. But there were a few… pictures and videos on this. I think that's what they're called." She seems to look along the phone for a few moments before sighing through her nose.

"It's my voice. It's something I don't recall ever saying out loud, but there's even a direct parallel in this exact room where she's introducing herself. It's giving me something of an idea of what to expect, though. Some massive be--" A crash is heard, and she glances over for a moment, staring. "… some massive dog twice my size is in the next room. Isn't there?"

She pauses. She lets the sound happen a second time. More 'bits and bobs' crashing about with wood crumbling soon after. "… shit." She frowns slowly in response before ending the recording soon afterwards.

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"HAH… h-hagh, okay… alright." The recording continues with her little breaths of victory before she lays on the floor, staring off into space. In her hand was an axe. The same one as before. And the gun is visibly on her hip. Alongside this, however, was a gash that did noooot look healthy along the shoulder holding the axe. "Fffffuck. That hurt. A lot… nngh!" She stabs something into her leg, growling outwards. Like a human would in pain trying to hold it back… as the wound steadily closed up on camera. "GOOOOOOD… good shit… okay. Ow."

Gradually, she stands herself up, peering outwards. "… the way that thing moved felt. Kinda familiar. Like I had fought it before. I was able to read its movements a lot easier and. And I was able to be aggressive enough to kill it before I died. Like in the recordings. It's. It's a little weird. I'd take a hit, but... if I managed to get the thing's blood on me, I'd... part of me would absorb it? And the wound wouldn't... hurt nearly as bad." She takes a few deeper breaths, rolling her shoulder and trying to make sure her clothing was still relatively intact. Still that same casual suit without its jacket. "… I need armor. I feel like leather'd be better, should hold up against claws better. Threads'll catch 'em." A nod, and she ends the recording.

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"… wow this town really is just fucked." The recording ends abruptly as a rather loud SCREECH is heard.

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"So. Okay. Uhm. I think I might've… deviated a little. See, when I fought Gascgoigne--" She seems to squint a bit behind her newly placed hat, adjusting her jaw slightly. "… was that his name? It seems pretty clear in my head, though I'm pretty sure I never heard him say it. Either I'm comprehending what I'm fighting more cleanly or the echoes I get are telling me more." She shakes her head. "Whatever. Regardless, I guess the big thing is that I recognized... that brooch." A quiet point… and as she shifts the camera to look through the outer one, her gloved hand is pointing towards another corpse. Freshly made of a woman in rather quaint dress… with a bejeweled brooch as stated. Blood red and glistening in the setting sunlight.

"I know who to bring that to." The recording ends.

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"ON. A. WHIM. I just. I go and check! I make sure the girl's okay! And she's GONE! She fled when… wh-when I wasn't looking! I made sure she got the brooch! She… she knew her parents were dead, and the recording said she left to LOOK for them! But now! Now!"

Rose's mouth clenches, fangs visible along her jawline as she showed off the, yet again, rather bloodied white ribbon. She slammed a fist into the wall, shaking it enough for dust to steadily crumble along, and she choked out a cough, growling outwards. "I don't get it…! I just don't get this fucking place… I tell her, she dies. I don't, she dies! That's not… that's not fair! She doesn't deserve to be swimming through a fucking PIG!"

The woman settles down into a sitting position just outside of the sewers the massive boar had been in, shakes her head and stares outwards towards the moon. "… I don't think I ever found Paleblood in that last one, did I…? Maybe… maybe if that's the key. I need to see things in a different light without losing myself in the process. I need… I need to stay calm…" She sighs. "… I need a trip to the Dream… Sucks this doesn't work there."

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"… so apparently it does. The moment I make mention of it in a log, it does." Slowly, she flips her phone's camera to show the rather… calming Hunter's Dream. A doll, standing beside the staircase leading up, tilting her head quietly towards her as she shows the Workshop above. "Old man Gehrman and the Doll live here… they've been helping me out, giving me pointers and strengthening my body and weapons here. It's been… rather helpful." She glances down, showing rather small, ghoulish creatures upon the tombstones of the area. They seem to be grasping upwards slowly, one even nabbing her pant leg and glancing up eagerly. "And these are the Messengers. The Doll told me about them. Creepy, but they're just. So eager to help? It's…"

She slowly settles beside the doll on the stairs. "… it's not enough." Her hat slowly gets placed down beside her as the Doll turns fully to glance down upon her, even speaking quietly.

"What do you mean, Good Hunter?"

"… I can't save someone even if I try. All I'm good at is killing. Slaughtering beasts despite what they call me." Rose quietly pulls off her glove, tapping her teeth. The fangs are clear as day, and along her cheeks… well. It looked a bit like facial hair. But she knew better. "… and I'm not sure they're wrong. Gascoigne changed. Couldn't I?"

The Doll gently takes a seat upon the stairs beside Rose, peering over quietly. "Good Hunter… Rose, yes?" A nod follows. "You are here… are you not?" Rose let her eyes glance upwards towards the Doll contemplatively. "That tells me everything. That tells me that you are still you. That you can still do good. That I can still love you with a sound heart… after all. Is that not why I was created? To love my Hunters, new and old."

Rose couldn't help but blink at this. The recording ends soon after this, but a gentle sob can be heard right beforehand.

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"WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!" The contrast from the previous recording to this photo is stark. It's aimed upwards towards a nearby building with the aforementioned caption clear upon it.

An Amygdala is visible. It's undeniable. It's a strange, spidery creature with human-esque legs and arms… many… MANY arms. At least six of them, and as a previous recording from a previous life had attested… the head did not look normal. It was a strange "nut" with pores that looked to house eyes. Dozens of them. And even in a photo, not supposedly a gif…

… the head seems to be slowly turning to face the camera. To face the viewer. The moment focus is off of it? It shifts back. And doesn't move again. So one would think, anyways.

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"So. Met someone. Helped someone. Begging they aren't gonna just die like the rest of them." This photo is of Eileen the Crow, quietly bowing for the photo. She seemed a little amused as they stood within the Oedon Cemetery, where Gascoigne had died. This old crow had stories to tell based on her garb and stance, but a simple photo wouldn't do anything to share them.

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"So the girl had a sister... She's going to die, isn't she?" Rose quietly stares outwards in response to saying this, her eyes plainly focused on the moon. "I gave her the ribbon. She cried for a moment... before slowly starting to giggle. I think I might've just driven her mad..."

Her eyes glance at the camera. Still blue. Not red. Not like the others. That was a good sign. "... I've done what I can, it's up to her to stay sane enough to survive..."

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"I see why the other me didn't like snakeballs. Fuck 'em." The recording ends abruptly.

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"Well I can guess I shouldn't be here. Considering, uh. Considering the fact that, uh…" She shows what's in front of her. And it's a tombstone. With bloody goo inbetween split parts. "… it's warm when I touch it. And I don't think I want to know why that is the way it is. I heard someone chant about 'Amygdala' showing 'the poor fool' mercy. Probably me. I'm a pretty poor fool right now… Ugh, my head feels like it's splitting like the tombstone is, I… fuck this, I'm moving again." The recording promptly ends.

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"… I feel… I feel something's wrong." Rose quietly sits back. Her camera is facing outwards towards her hand. And claws are visibly peaking through her fingers as her body hair seems to be turning into fur. She stares outwards. "I… I defeated Rom. And I don't… really think I can comprehend what I'm hearing. It sounds like… like a baby crying. It almost sounds like it's coming from the sky or… another alley sometimes. And I don't understand why. It's like I'm… being called by it, but I can't reach it. And I don't think I like that…"

She squints. "Paleblood… to transcend the Hunt. That's what the note said. I think I'm capable of seeing what Paleblood is now. I rewatched the old recording, and I can only guess that happened after Rom for her. For the other me. I'm… scared. She sounded like she was losing her mind when this information reached her. Like she was turning into a monster."

She pulls the camera to face her again. And she shows off her fangs. Her nose was a bit darker as well, and the facial fur was becoming more overt. "… I am too. I'm… I'm starting to change. The urge to maim things is getting stronger, but I feel almost… calmer now? More in control. More… focused, I guess. I think it's about time I get moving, though." She grunts as she stands herself up, pointing upwards towards an Amygdala right above her, staring pointedly in her direction. "Some people must've done something in lower Yharnam to attract these fuckers. I've killed one way bigger by now, but… I have to wonder what's gotten them into such a tizzy if it wasn't me. Because that was hours ago. They'd be after me in force if I was the issue." The recording promptly ends.

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A photo is posted of a strange, dried up corpse. Sitting in a chair, a rather large cage is settled around its head, and Rose has put the caption as such:

"Doors in this world are fucking weird. But then again, so are corpse piles from the moon."

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Rose stands staring. The recording starts on her face, lit by what sounds like a rather roaring fire. Her eyes are still a pointed blue as she glances down, her cowl upon her face hiding that it's just a bit… further outwards now. Slowly, she flips the camera. And shows the Hunter's Workshop in the Dream is now very much on fire… but not burning down. It just is.

"… I feel like I'm about to find out what Paleblood might be if the Hunt is about to end…"

The recording promptly stops here.

#rosy recountings #pokemon roleplay #pokemon rp #death cw #blood cw #violence cw #eldritch horror #eldritch themes #bloodborne

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televisionenjoyer · 1 year ago

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HOW DO YOU GET THAT VINTAGE LOOK I'VE BEEN TRYING FOR AGES I don't want to buy a polaroid

Doesn't show but I'm actually excited as fuck about it. I've been a photographer for like, what, six years? maybe seven? I have a trusty DSLR that might be old by today's standards but still takes beautiful, professional quality pictures. I've tried all kinds of flashes and filters to get this sort of look but you know what did it? My mom's early 2000s camera. Yeah, one of these

that picture was taken with the camera on the left, a Samsung ST66, I would consider it a midrange 2010s digital camera in regards to the quality and liberty of adjustments. the camera on the right is my backup for the day, a Kodak Easyshare C142, your average economic family camera (everyone knows someone who owns one of these I believe)

Highest chances are, you probably have someone in your family with a digicam abandoned on some drawer because people don't use these anymore, they've abandoned them in favor of their phones. If this isn't the case, you can probably get one on a secondhand store or eBay, for pretty cheap!

(I don't have many recommendations, other than probably get one that's over 12mp, with at least 3x zoom, preferably from 2010 or newer. As to brands, it's a lottery. People recommend the Nikon Coolpix a lot (I love Nikon sensors so I can vouch for that much) or Olympus and Canon cameras. Despite what you may believe, Kodak hasn't made a good digital sensor since, well, never, so I wouldn't personally recommend it a lot)

Why a digicam?

why not!! here's two features of your digicam that your phone doesn't have:

- analog zoom: you know when you're zooming in on one of these and the lens starts making noises and moving around? that's the multiple individual lenses in your camera moving around so that you can zoom in three, five, or even ten times the size of your picture without losing any quality. what your phone does when you zoom in, in opposition, is basically cropping the picture you're taking. digital zoom is inherently lossy — not to mention the angular graduation of phone lenses causes the image to have some distortion in comparison to the way we see (yeah, this is why you look ugly on your pictures but pretty in the mirror)

- big, harsh, blinding flash: this is THE MAIN THING, the main element of that "polaroid look". These types of cameras have a limited or nonexistent aperture range, so they overcompensate by turning on auto flash. This overcompensation results in a very characteristic look that makes us feel nostalgic. when taking night pictures, turn that flash on!!!

and, here are two features of your digicam that a professional camera doesn't have:

- small, harsh, crappy flash: see: above. DSLR's built in flashes... They do the job. Everyone knows if you need the real deal you gotta get one of those big fancy fixtures, but also, Nikon doesn't want you taking crappy pictures with their camera so they put some work into defusing the flash and shit so it's not as crappy and harsh. Joke's on them, we kinda like that!!

- smaller, cheaper, limited, overall CRAPPIER: and you know what? That's good. A point and shoot cam is good actually!! we get lost in features and lenses and sometimes it's a bit much. A small portable camera with its so many limitations can help us focus on composition and storytelling, and mainly just... Having fun!!! photography used to be about having fun, remember? whether you're out on your own or with friends, you and other people will take your crappy digicam wayyy less seriously than they would your professional cam. And that takes a lot of pressure away.

Anyways this is your sign to dust off your crappy digicam and go shoot some pictures.

#digicam

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folliesandfolderols · 10 months ago

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Writing prompts day 119-122

From this prompt list. If you’ve read this far, I’m not sure you need any explanation, but the short version is I hadn’t written any fiction since 2019, I set a goal to write at least 150 words/day in 2024, and this list was my way to restart. Also I abruptly decided on day 2 I would write an entire Tim/Damian story connecting all the prompts, because I am Good at Judging My Limits. /sarcasm Anyway, I finished the rough draft a while ago and am now unlocking the old entries as I edit.

Read from the beginning here, or on ao3 here.

Also, perennial warning that, like a magpie, I collect shiny bits and pieces of canon I like and utilize them in my own messy AUs. So, Mr. Camera bears more of a resemblance to his Golden Age self than to his more recent iteration, because that's way more hilarious than the embodiment of living in a surveillance state that he'd be now.

Day 118 here

***

45. “Fuck, just touch me already! Just— just do something!” “Not so fast. We’ve still got the whole night/day ahead of us.” (slightly modified for characterization purposes)

***

Damian was standing in the middle of the living room, maskless but still in costume, when Tim came in through one of the secret entrances. He crossed his arms and glared at Tim, chin lifted high. Tim would have been willing to bet he could calculate exactly how pissed off Damian was at any given moment by determining the elevation-of-chin to level-of-fury ratio. Something to consider for future arguments.

“Hi.” Tim stripped off his gloves and threw them on a side table. “Good work tonight.” Internally, he sneered at himself. Wow, well done.

Damian apparently shared his low opinion of that particular conversational gambit. “I found your phone and tested its functionality while I waited for your return. It's fully operational, which begs the question of why you chose not to use it to have any sort of non-case-related conversation with me this week.”

Tim bit his lip. "I don't have a good reason. I'm sorry." Nausea roiled in his stomach.

Damian spread his hands in an incredulous, graceful gesture that screamed Talia. "Then tell me the bad reasons, Drake. Be honest without being at the point of death, for once in your life."

That flipped the switch. Nausea faded before the comforting heat of anger. He ripped his mask off, ignoring the sting of the adhesive giving way. "Hey. Just because I don't throw every little bit of negative emotion I experience into your face doesn't mean I'm not being honest, Damian. It just means that maybe I'm mature enough that I handle my shit internally instead of burdening everyone around me while I process it."

"That is not maturity." Damian stepped forward, using his height to tower over Tim. "It is hiding. Which makes it cowardice."

Tim clenched his fists at his side. Before they'd started sleeping together, he would have shoved Damian back, out of his space. Now, though, that sort of behavior would carry a different sort of connotation.

He ground out between his teeth, "I'm not a fucking coward. Back off."

Damian waved away his objection, but he did turn away slightly to give him more room. "No one is calling you a coward. You're one of the most courageous men I know. That's why I don't understand this behavior. Why conceal your true thoughts from me unless you know I will object to them? And if you know that I will do so, why delay the inevitable?"

Despite the clear effort he put into sounding aloof, Damian's furrowed eyebrows gave away his confusion and hurt. Tim paused, a new idea occurring to him.

"Wait. Damian. Humor me for a second. What's happening right now from your point of view? If I tell you everything I'm thinking and feeling about you at this exact moment, what does that mean to you?"

Damian's face smoothed out into a complete lack of expression. "That I don't have to look for and decipher hidden messages. What else?"

Ah, fuck. Tim dragged his hand down his face and crossed the living room to plop down on his couch.

"Will you please come sit down?" he asked after a long moment of Damian staring at him, unmoving. Damian settled down on the cushion farthest from him and stared at him in cool expectation.

"Okay," Tim said, leaning his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands. He tried to keep going, but the words got stuck in his throat, so he swallowed them down and tried again, this time looking at Damian. "All right."

Damian leaned back and crossed his legs, the image of studied disinterest. "If you're breaking up with me, spit it out so I can go home and get some sleep."

Tim jolted upright, sheer terror turning every muscle in his body to ice. "What? No!"

Damian's shoulders slumped the slightest bit. Some of the defiance faded from his eyes. "That isn't what you're trying to say."

"No, that's the opposite of what I want!" Tim wrung his fingers, shaking with an abrupt excess of adrenaline. "Can I—" Unable to explain what he needed, he swung around to straddle Damian's lap and buried his face in his neck. All the body armor made it less than comfortable, but it was worth it for feeling Damian's pulse against his cheek.

After a second, Damian's hands came to rest on Tim's waist, a tentative weight that still felt like reassurance. Tim sighed and burrowed closer.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I can't look at you and talk at the same time."

"All right."

They sat with nothing but the sound of their breathing between them for a few more seconds, then Tim found the words he needed. "I don't like to argue. It feels like I've lost control and I'm telling the other person my private business."

Damian nodded against his head. "The private business is . . . what? Your thoughts? Your emotions?"

Tim laughed weakly into his skin. "Yes. Both. It feels dangerous." More tension drained from the big body beneath his with every word he spoke.

Damian sighed and kissed his temple. "And since when has danger prevented you from taking any course of action you felt was necessary?"

"Since I was with Bernard."

"Ah." Damian fell silent for a long moment. "You think you should have admitted your secret identity to him."

Tim shrugged. "I'm honestly not sure. I knew he knew, but I thought, if anything happened to him, having plausible deniability would protect him."

Damian leaned his head against Tim's. "I'm assuming you don't want our relationship to end the way yours and Bernard's did." At Tim's headshake of denial, he continued, "In that case, I'll tell you that I see honesty as the safest course of action."

Tim finally felt capable of sitting up enough to meet his gaze. “I'm not disagreeing. But I also think you're forgetting that there are things you don't tell me, either.” Damian’s hands tightened on his body before they loosened with deliberate care. “I know we both can remember times you've said stuff I asked you about was none of my business.”

“. . . That is true,” Damian admitted with clear reluctance.

Tim’s thoughts, now given a focal point, became less scary. This was just detective work. He could do that. And he knew Damian well enough now to have working theories. “Is the reason you want me to tell you because you don't want to be taken by surprise by the consequences of something I refused to say?”

Damian’s breath paused for a second, the only clue Tim had that he was close to the target. “Why do you ask?”

Maybe putting it in martial terms was the quickest route to understanding here. Sparring partner, Long-Ago Damian’s voice echoed in memory. “I'm trying to figure out what I can cede that doesn't leave me feeling like I've completely exposed my position.” Unable to keep his hands to himself anymore, he reached to stroke through Damian’s hair.

Damian sank deeper into the couch cushion behind him as Tim petted him. “I see.” He kissed the inside of Tim’s wrist. “Then, yes. That is correct.”

“Okay.” Tim considered the problem. “If I tell you that I really like being with you, and I'm happy with you, and I don't want to stop or change what we’re doing, does that help? All of those things are true.”

Now that he wasn't geared up for a fight, Damian’s exhaustion came through loud and clear, eyes blinking more and more slowly as he relaxed under Tim’s hands. “Mostly. Though I would argue—” He suppressed a yawn. “Argue that I do want to change what we're doing if it means we go an entire week without spending the night together. That's too long.”

“Yeah, that's fair.” Tim kissed his forehead. “I got stuck in my head this week. I'm sorry. You didn't do anything to earn that.”

He scooted backwards to stand, then offered his hand to Damian. “Let's get out of these gross costumes and into the shower. I feel disgusting.”

Damian allowed him to pull him to his feet, but didn't start moving toward the bathroom yet. “Drake.” Tim looked up at him in inquiry and spotted a faint smile gracing the corners of his eyes. “I also am happy.”

A near-painful wave of love buffeted Tim at the declaration and left him swaying on his feet, saturated with longing. He fought to keep his voice normal but it trembled the slightest bit. “I'm glad. You should maybe tell that to Dick. I’m pretty sure he's afraid we're going to kill each other in our sleep.”

Damian began leading him in the right direction. “Tt. Does he not know us at all? We would never be so careless. If we murder each other we’ll each give our opponent the courtesy of a fair fight.”

Tim grinned, shuffling in his wake. “Something to look forward to.”

***

Tim had told Damian the truth. But, as the days wore on and things became more normal again (as normal as Gotham could produce, anyway), he realized he'd been lying to someone else: himself. There was no way he would be able to keep his feelings hidden now that he'd realized they existed.

Every time he saw Damian, the words perched on the tip of his tongue, ready to fly to their object: I love you. Sitting opposite him at a restaurant at a business lunch, running a flash drive to his office on some spurious excuse, backing him up in a fight, it didn't matter. Love, he was discovering, demanded to be spoken.

The problem was, he didn't want to expose himself that way. Not when he had no idea how Damian felt about him and no real way to find out, short of interviewing the few people who knew they were together.

Well. He could have asked Damian. But that was obviously out of the question. What if Damian felt pressured to say something he wasn't ready to talk about?

(What if Damian didn’t have anything to say in response?)

He settled for being as close to Damian as he dared, as often as he could. The words couldn't be spoken if he were too busy using his mouth for other things.

Which was how he ended up on a rooftop at 2 AM, stretched over Damian's prone form, kissing him like he needed the contact to survive.

"This—mmf—isn't what I thought you meant when you said you wanted to try a new throw," Damian managed to say, before Tim shut him up by kissing him harder.

"Why aren't you touching me?" Tim demanded against his lips a second later.

"We're out in the open," Damian reminded him, a tiny smirk brightening what little of his face showed. “You’re distracting me from surveillance of a probable robbery.”

Tim pretended to consider that, then nipped at Damian's chin. "Doesn't matter. Just—touch me already. Just—just do something." Quick, before I say something I can't take back.

"Not so fast. We’ve still got the whole night ahead of us." The rapid rise and fall of Damian's chest belied his reproving tone. Tim made a disappointed noise, and Damian's smile became more pronounced. "You're so impatient."

“Maybe I’m on borrowed time,” Tim said without thinking about it, his constant worries shoving their way out of his mouth heedless as lemmings.

Damian tilted his head in inquiry. His body went hard with tension beneath Tim’s, muscles preparing to take on whatever threat Tim faced. “How so?”

Tim opened his mouth to reply, and the whole world went white. When his domino faded the flash to acceptable levels, he crouched, ready for action four feet away from his original position. Damian had leaped onto a nearby ledge and held a tonfa in each hand.

"Haha!" crowed the man who had joined them on the rooftop through his camera-shaped helmet. "What a picture-perfect moment! Shrike and Red Robin, caught in the act!"

Tim rolled his eyes so high he was sure he sprained a muscle. "Mr. Camera, what the hell are you doing here?"

"I can't allow you two to ruin the opening act of the thrilling sequel to my original heist film!" Mr. Camera straightened his bow tie with a jaunty flourish. "The audience deserves to delight in my costumed capers."

"The audience deserves to have their valuables undisturbed," Damian said, and pounced.

Tim leaned on his bo staff, watching the show, as Mr. Camera tried his best to fight back with his strobe flash and even tried a bit of hypnosis. Damian ignored all of it and took him out with an efficient series of hits to his knees, back, and head. Mr. Camera lay on the roof with his lens cracked within a couple of minutes.

"Anticlimactic," Tim commented, tossing over a zip tie.

"I won't complain, since it leaves me with more time for other things," Damian replied. Tim couldn't see his expression with his hood covering three-quarters of his face, but he was pretty sure he knew exactly what other things Damian had in mind.

days 123-126 here

#damitim #tim and damian and 150 prompts #like I know what you want #folliefic

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marriage-and-equality · 10 months ago

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marriage-equality

My marriage ended after 20 years this is my vent.

I’m currently on the same street as the old house but she still lives there. I get to see the new relationship every day and it’s killing me. I feel cheated and disrespected every day.

In the recent past we were trying to work it out. Both of us were guilty of similar crimes and no one was innocent. New rules and boundaries were set and agreed to. And I thought we were okay.

on a random day I was called and accused of cheating that second…. Fighting anger loud shitty words etc and again both of us. No innocent people here. Multiple offers to watch the ring camera videos and prove “your mistaken im telling you the truth” verification is refused. No one watched the video….. but its ok no worries… we just agreed that if we are offended proof of innocence and we refuse to look at it then we are innocent by default. And we both know that is the case….

time passes space is given contact or communication is refused for weeks and weeks.

when communicating starts again it’s been a month. But hey sometimes it’s just hard and like that. We talk regularly for about 3 weeks. And completely by accident only because I said things that were upsetting (but only because I didn’t know what had changed about the situation) i am finally told that my marriage has ended and that in under 2 weeks she had a boyfriend. It took 6 weeks for me to find out. Awesome!!

but why and what happened???? I was told that I wasn’t willing to tell the truth even when I was caught…. Uuuhhhhhh I offered to show you a video and you could see that I was telling the truth. Well I still haven’t seen that video. Um??? I’m confused right now. You set a rule—im innocent by default. You refused and when you were still angry I figured it was knowing that I was innocent and not a big deal. It has a 2 week loop before it’s lost. You knew it was offered why not say anything in the 2 weeks? Call me out watch it yourself and tell me you’re eyes are lying for me… im sorry it’s gone now but you made the rule. I’m innocent by default.

well I told you I was done with this before I hung up that day so you knew…. Uhhh not to be a asshole but you made a rule that if we argue and something is said it’s words of anger and nothing changes for us until we are both calm and have a conversation about it. So we were together until we talked 5 weeks later. Nothing changed for us at all until 3weeks after you had a boyfriend. I really feel like you have been actively committing adultery for the whole time and you don’t care. I am told that she will go to her grave feeling like I am guilty unless I can prove myself innocent with the videos I offered to show and are now gone. OK baby I get it. I understand out of curiosity if I can actually make some phone calls and retrieve this shit from some server and a dark room somewhere and have them emailed directly to you so I don’t even get them before you do and you can watch them or we can watch them together, and you know I’m innocent what happens? Absolutely nothing happens because we’re past that point. I’ve already moved on. I’ve already this I’ve already done. OK I understand. I’m not stupid but if you moved on because you’re wrong and I didn’t do that, and I can prove it a guy that you had never met before the day we got into this fight and you were actively a couple and less than 14 days And is now moving into the house prior to me even knowing I don’t have a marriage. That guy is more important than over 20 years of your life really I’m so worthless. I can be thrown away because someone thought I did something and then wouldn’t look at a video , they refused to be wrong about something I didn’t do and I can go fuck myself I guess….. it took two more days but I did get an apology. It was wrong to not make sure or do what she wanted done herself and move on and start something fresh without even making sure I knew.

Hooray for me. So the point I really felt worthless and down desirable pretty much like a meal ticket like I wasn’t even intelligent enough to know what made me happy or what I wanted or what I found attractive or what was enough for me I am not even intelligent enough to have any idea about what those things are to me, someone has to tell me so that I can know that I’m supposed to be unhappy or want something else or what have you thank God I was told.

and there have been talks since then where I have been told we are toxic for each other and maybe I really am stupid because I don’t understand how we can be completely fine not toxic and actually in a good place and pretty much through it and ready to live together again if we can be there and no shit three minute text message later I can be lying. We can have this fight this blow out get pissed off and be pissed off because you’re completely wrong about something at that point when you’re wrong we toxic for each other. Am I following you????? Well of course we were actually toxic before that fight and again OK how far before were we toxic because two days before we spent the night together we spent the whole next day talking about how great it was and we both missed it and you know like I think we’re gonna be OK and you know I really needed human contact and the closeness back-and-forth all day the next day happy after spending the night together? It didn’t feel very toxic to me. Of course we were toxic on the day of the fight because that fight happened while she was at work and I was home and she knew they lost her job. So she knew we were toxic we had to get away from each other. I mean that’s OK if you feel I can take that I would rather take that day or maybe the day after not the month and after months, but I can take it. I was annoyed and got really loud and obnoxious feeling like you wouldn’t watch the video that prove I was innocent and I got shitty and I own it and I’m sorry I wish I could change it, but I can’t regret it but it is I’ll give you all that you’re right you don’t need to tell me all that I agree But please at least give me it. 50-50 blame no offense but as obnoxious and shitty as I was, you made a decision to call me while you were at work. Yell scream me out. Call me a liar refuse to let me show you you were wrong just pissed off, angry and bitching And after a little while, I got wound up and I got shitty because I felt like I was wrongly accused and you didn’t care 50-50. If you hadn’t called me there’s no fucking way I would’ve gotten shitty and pissy and called you and started bitching at you about something that had not happened , we’re both guilty. And that is pretty much been my life ever since we can talk we can be adults about stuff when we have to, but almost always evolves into how much she wishes. It was different how much she wishes it happened a day later anything she still loves me and she still even wants to be with me Right now she’s far enough along. It would be bad for her. After that we get, he’s really helping me heal. I could be doing that right now. I don’t trust you. You don’t trust me for a bullshit reason and you know I am innocent at least by default. Well, I really felt like you didn’t care and you didn’t want me so I decided to go ahead and move on but again, nobody asked Me! Well, it would just be wrong and cruel and shitty to do that to him. He doesn’t deserve that think about how bad it hurt you. Again days, a couple months nothing timewise over 20 years. It would be wrong to her. A guy who is so invested there is only us no individual fuck him. Some dude has been around for a couple of months. That guy can’t hurt him because it’s been a couple months. He’s not that invested and he will get the fuck over it real quick altering bullshit from 20……

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henryheartss · 2 years ago

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holy shit i found a video called "normal things we no longer do" and like... these things still mostly happen, just are more modern? the list is;

- having to plan to go to the bathroom on commerical breaks, and having to watch something on tv at a certain time. cable still exists, and this guy is mainly talking as if he were a kid, and many kids dont get to record something. my father never let me use the feature simply because he wanted to hog it. but some kids (maybe some in other countries as well) still have to do these things.

- when kids went to the mall + not having cellphones. the cellphone part i can agree on because duh, but it is his generation who doesnt want kids hanging out anywhere. malls are mostly gone, but the ones still around usually ban groups of kids if they dont have an adult. getting picked up by your parents from things is still common.

- making a mixtape. now this one i get where he is coming from, as there used to be many steps involved. but the modern equivalent is making a spotify playlist, which people still do and is rather common.

- mtv? like...thats not something you do? also you can still see music videos on youtube so...

- kids never understand being bored on a car ride. no, this is still common. as well, he says all he had was to look outside. things like car games and activity pads were a thing back then.

- kids.....singing along to a song and not know what the song was saying. this is EXTREMELY common??? especially for kids?

- fan clubs used to be a bigger deal. nope. its called fandoms now and they are way bigger because it isnt just america being included.

- parents needing your friends number if you stayed over. this is completely dependent on the parent, and im sure that some parents still want this today.

- airport security is tighter. uh. okay. includes the line "before 9/11" also the next point is "long flights were boring." my guy, they still are. most economy and business class seats still dont have tvs.

- gps. yeah okay, ill give you this one. as well as trips to video rental stores, that as well. rewinding the cassette tape, sure. memorizing phone numbers + address books, sure. waiting in person for tickets. finding library books.

- looking at the paper for the weather. im pretty sure radio already existed?

- watches being a thing. uh they still are. plenty of people wear them.

- cameras are different. yeah? technology.

of course the comments are full of old people saying that it was better back then and "kids have it easy now", aka out of touch boomer stuff.

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ceasarslegion · 6 months ago

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So this whole thing happened when I still worked at Kiehl's. That whole chain should be condemned btw like the products are perfectly fine if a bit on the pricey side but the inner drama could be its own TLC reality show.

I had been the operations manager for a few months at this point when we hired on this new girl, let's call her Leah for privacy's sake. Leah was younger than me (at the time I was 22), and already had botox and lip filler done as well as had hundreds of dollars worth of nail and eyelash treatments every month. And here's the thing: I am not here to judge people for their personal choices in what they want to do with their own bodies, that is not my place and im the last person who should be doing so as a trans guy many years into transitioning. However, there is a certain tiktok beauty influencer personality that is often paired with this that I do not like. Leah had that personality.

She was like 5 foot flat, very thin, very soft-spoken and very meek. I was the one who was tasked with like, mentoring her in her first few weeks so we were scheduled together exclusively for a while. At first I thought she was just like, shy and nervous about her first real job and would come out of her shell with some encouragement. So I let her watch me greet customers and make sales and explain things to them and deal with the unrulies and then would let her handle it with me in the background to take over if she started to stumble.

The first week or two needing a support net from someone is understandable. When you're a month into the job and still act like you're made of glass and will shatter on contact if someone doesn't sweep you off your feet it starts becoming an issue. I told our general manager about this, and she informed me that Leah didn't act like that around anybody else. In fact she was a bit catty and had a superiority issue with everybody else. It suddenly dawned on us that I was, in fact, the ONLY guy on the team at this point. And that both of us had seen her get all meek and innocent and use her sex appeal to get men to buy more shit from her.

Oh, I was very uncomfortable. But obviously we couldn't like, assume things based on hearsay. So I was scheduled a little less with her but not entirely away from her. Instead I was often scheduled with Leah plus another team member to even it out a bit.

Because I was operations and acting manager if neither the general or AM were in, I was often in the back room taking care of inventory or stock or emails or what have you. There was no one in the store and it was a Tuesday afternoon so very unlikely to get a single customer for multiple hours, I didn't really care if anyone was sitting or on their phones when I was acting manager as long as the work actually got done so i didn't really do anything when I saw Leah and the other girl sitting at the consultation table and showing each other memes or something on the security cameras. But Leah showed the other girl, let's call her Sarah, something that seemed to make her uncomfortable and she went to the back after. I asked her what was wrong and Sarah told me that Leah made some really inappropriately sexually-charged comments about me after she stalked me online and found some old selfies posted to my Facebook. And then claimed I wanted to fuck her so bad it made me look stupid and the "proof" was a text I sent her when she first started asking if she wanted to get coffee since she said she was in the same mall I also happened to be in at the time, she said she was too busy with errands, I said "okay, no problem. Let me know if you change your mind, I'm here until x time" and then left her alone. Let it be known she was the one who texted ME first asking if I knew where to find something she was looking for in that mall.

Oh god oh no

So I tell them I'm leaving to run to the washroom and then tell the general manager about this over the phone. She's like "oh my jesus" and decides it's incredibly inappropriate behavior on Leah's part that put me in an incredibly awkward position as someone who had rank and power over her, and as a much taller and louder man who had to tread carefully with this.

That day Sarah ends up having to go home early because of something urgent that came up, I told her I'd be fine, go deal with it. So Leah was alone with me again and I knew what she was saying about me. She's back to acting all meek and helpless and innocent while I'm defaulting to straight up employee personality going around with the stock list and saying "can you make a list of all the products expiring in the next 6 months" in response to her inching up to me and going "I hear you're an artist 🥺 can I see 🥺🥺"

To make her stop I end up casually slipping my boyfriend into the conversation and explicitly refer to them as my boyfriend. This seems to rock her a bit and she stops for the day but gives me the silent treatment for the rest of the shift. Whatever.

I go in the next day and general manager asks to see me for a private meeting. I'm like oh god did I fuck something up and she's like no, we have to talk about Leah.

So apparently, Leah did not like that I have a boyfriend and was not attracted to her. Not at all. In fact she thought I deserved to be punished for not returning her affections. In fact she went around to the whole employee base and told them all I was a huge creep who was preying on her from day one, taking advantage of my rank over her to try to lure her somewhere private to take advantage of her, that I had touched her inappropriately when she accidentally ran head-on into me once and i spilled my coffee on myself and we all had a good laugh about it. She used the example of the time a guy got stabbed in the parking garage and she said she was scared to go to her car now, so I offered to walk her to it when her shift was over, she said no thanks, I said "okay, let me know if you change your mind" and never brought it up again as some example of how pushy and unreasonable I was trying to lure her somewhere alone where I was so much bigger and stronger than weak meek little her.

Thank fucking GOD no one in our store believed her because the general response to her was "okay I don't believe Damien would do any of that cartoonishly evil shit for a fucking second Leah or else he wouldve been an issue for all of us and we have never felt unsafe around him or alone with him, I think you're just mad that he doesn't like you back 🙄"

She tried to go to head office with it though, head office in Montreal who don't work with the storefronts and don't know any of us. She crocodile teared her way into this story about the predatory manager who used his rank to take advantage of her sexually and cooked up this story about how I threatened her job if she wouldn't have sex with me. Which turned into a whole internal investigation against me that was only stopped by everyone else in the store saying "HE LITERALLY DIDNT DO ANY OF THAT 😭😭😭" to stand up for me until it was dropped

I did not get severance or an apology for that, Leah did not get fired for lying about something that serious and was allowed to keep her position, and I had to keep going to work with that rat bastard who was pretending nothing happened.

Actually fuck it who wants to know about the coworker who accused me of sexually assaulting her when I didnt return her affections because that story is insane and could've ruined my fucking life for something i didnt do if they took her word over mine

#self rb

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pebbleswritessometimes · 2 years ago

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“I’ve Missed You”

Larissa Weems x reader

AN: I’ve never written smut before, I’m so sorry this might be shit. Larissa please step on me thanks!

Summary: Larissa’s been busy with work and hasn’t paid much mine to Y/N. Y/N takes things into her own hands. Gets punished by mommy Larissa mhm mhm

Angst/comfort/that whore shit

18+ MINORS GO AWAY

I: mommy kink, self-pleasure, strap-on, super hot tall lady we all know and love

It seemed like you rarely ever got to see your girlfriend anymore. She either had meetings all day or the minute she got back to your shared apartment, she called it a night. You knew she didn’t mean to make you feel any negative type of way, but it still hurt. You craved her touch. In every way, you missed having her close to you. You’ve felt neglected in past relationships before, and even though this time you knew it wasn’t intentional, you couldn’t help the bit of anger and feeling of betrayal building up.

You did the best you could to try and grab her attention. Everything from making her favorite meals, writing little notes to put in her bag, and little lingering touches. It would all pull her back to reality for just a moment, as she flashed a loving smile and told you how thankful she was for you. You swore that you’d do your best to do everything you could to help her out while work at Nevermore was being a pain. Holding on to the warmth you felt each time she’d look at you hurt the longer you dwelled on it. You figured, if there was anything that would really grab her attention, it was you. Just you. So, you set up your phone and with nothing more than a thin blanket to drape across your form, you got into position. Sitting on your heels with one hand holding the fabric in place at your shoulder, and the other on your lower stomach, you took the first photo. Flipping yourself on your back, you looked away from the camera and took another. You were nervous, but eventually bit the bullet and hit send. You bit your lip anticipating your girlfriends response.

Larissa was sat at the round table, nearing the end of the meeting, when her phone buzzed in her blazer pocket. She had to admit she was terribly bored, the man the academy was meeting with today went on and on about things that didn’t relate to their discussions in the slightest. She felt herself smile a bit as she discreetly peeked at who the messages were from. She figured it was a little encouragement message that you occasionally sent. Nearly choking on air, she clenched her jaw as a deep blush overtook her features. “Principal Weems, are you quite alright?” The old man who sat across from her must’ve noticed the sudden change in her expression. “Oh, yes of course! My apologies, I just felt a bit ill there for a moment,” she lied. Although, she was definitely feeling something. “Well, what’d you say we wrap up this meeting for today? I’m to go meet my wife for dinner,” he suggested and Larissa couldn’t have exited that room any faster. Rushing to her office, she went to gather her things.

You could see she had seen the messages, and yet, you received no response. Getting a little frustrated, you thought surely, there was more you could do to tease her.

“Oh, lovely,” was all that you said before you strolled over the the drawer where you two kept your toys. Grabbing your favorite for when you’re alone, and the new strap that you two have yet to try, you pressed record and climbed back onto the bed. You tossed the blanket to the side and began to slowly trace your body with your hand, while the other made its way to your core. Getting yourself worked up, you could feel your arousal beginning to stain the sheets beneath you. You grab your toy, make sure it’s in perfect view, and guide it towards yourself. Gently sliding yourself down, you’re able to quickly find your desired pace. Making it a point to look directly into the lens every so often. You throw your head back as you lean on your hands for stability. “Fuck,” was all you could get out, along with little whines mixed with your slight panting. Your moans grew louder as you picked up speed on the toy. Squeezing your eyes shut, you moaned, finally reaching your high. Slowing down, you muttered words under your breath in between your gasps.

You gave yourself a moment to gather yourself before you sent the video. Deciding to push her just a bit more before you ended the recording, you tied the new strap to the pillow you pulled out in front of you. “It’d just be such a shame if you weren’t here to use this on me for the first time, sweetheart,” you feigned sympathy and innocently looked at the camera. “I’m getting impatient. You know I don’t like to wait,” you put on a sweet smile as you crept closer to the phone, “Hurry up, mommy.”

Just as Larissa stuffed all her essentials into her purse, her phone vibrated again. She held her breath when she saw it was another message from you. “Oh…fuck,” she whined as she watched as you fucked yourself on the toy she knew was your favorite. The ache began to grow as she raced back to the apartment. Fiddling with her keys, “come on, I don’t have time for this,” she thought as she struggled to unlock the door. Finally, the door to the apartment flew open and was shut, and locked just as quickly. Throwing off her shoes and blazer, she slid down the hall.

Coming to a halt as she reached the bedroom door, she could hear your small moans. “My sweet girl, you know very well you aren’t allowed to touch yourself without Mommy,” she spoke with confidence but you could tell by her expression your plan was working. “Sending me those pictures…while I was in a very important meeting. That doesn’t sound like something Mommy’s good girl would do, hm?” you swallowed, excited but worried for what she had in store for you. She grabbed your hand as to stop you from bringing yourself anymore relief.

Removing what was left of her clothing, she ordered you to your knees. You relished in her attention. You didn’t want to ruin the moment, but you couldn’t help the words that slipped from your mouth. “I’ve missed you, Rissa. Very much,” you felt silly confessing it in such a vulnerable position. You didn’t notice the tears welling in your eyes, but she did. It hit her. You did this because you missed her. You’ve felt neglected, something she promised to never make you feel. You could feel the guilt radiating from her expression. “Oh, Sweetheart. I’ve made you feel unimportant, haven’t I?” Her voiced cracked. “You didn’t mean to, Larissa. Really, it’s okay! I know you’ve been busy with-“ your words were cut off by her bending down and kissing you. She pulled you up, not bothering to break contact. Apologizing in between each kiss, she pushed you back onto the bed.

She held your face as she kissed you, later moving to roam her free hand over your body. Both panting, she lowered herself to your core. “You are so-“ she kissed your inner thighs, “important to me,” she moaned as she tasted your arousal. It didn’t take long for her to bring you to where you wanted to be. Pushing her fingers in and out of you, as she focused her mouth on your clit. You covered your mouth as you came, being cautious of any body who may be near in the halls. A deep chuckle came from your girlfriend, “No no, Mommy wants to hear you baby,” she smirked as she pulled away and walked to where you had left the unused strap.

You groaned as you realized what she was about to do, you couldn’t wait. Unstrapping it from the pillow and wrapping the fabric around her thighs that were shining with her own arousal, she stalked back over to you. She pulled your legs towards her. You yelped as she smacked your cunt, “Mommy’s gonna take care of you, sweetheart. But, you did break some of our rules,” her gaze darkened as she took in your form. Staring at her with half-lidded eyes, you whined, licking your lips. “You’re going to take what I give you, understand?” Receiving a frantic nod from you, she positioned herself. “So impatient,” she chuckled. Both of you moaned at the sensation of the strap bottoming out. “Mommy, please-“ you gasped as she pushed all the way once more, and stilled. “Please what?” Pulling your thigh up to hers to gain better access. “Fuck me…please. Oh..shit,” you could barely form words as she began thrusting her hips into you at a relentless pace. Kissing you, again, she told you to flip around. Now on your knees, she gripped your chin with one hand and pulled you back towards her with every snap of her hips, with the other.

Her breath warm on your neck, “I’m sorry I made you feel that way,” she continues thrusting her hips, “I promise, oh.. fuc- I promise I’ll make more time for you,” she managed to get the words out and you could tell she was nearing her climax, just as you were. “Fuck- Rissa I’m gonna- Can I? Please,” you begged. “With me, sweetheart, okay?”

You each came as waves of pleasure rushed over you.

As you both laid in bed, she held you tightly within her arms. “I love you, Y/N. You are my everything,” she promised. “I love you,” you smiled. You knew she was the one. Right, then, and there. You loved this woman. And, it was safe to say you were pretty pleased with how your plan went.

@littledollll again, hope this is okay! I’ve never written smut before 👀😬 you didn’t ask for angst Ike sorry I have no clue what happened there lmao

#larissa weems #principal larissa weems #principal weems #wednesday weems #gwendoline christie #larissa x reader #weems #Larissa weems smut #this was a bitch to post #i hope the format is okay and it didn’t delete anything

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leeus-writing · 2 years ago

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The Green Fairy strikes again

Pretty please can I request an accidental marriage with Zack Fair… I do believe it’s high time Zacky boy had a good ol’ taste of the Walled Fairy

The Green Fairy strikes again

You were new to the Wall bar, learning the ropes had been easy during the quiet times but now was your first evening on a busier evening. You still, however, did not fail to spot the two SOLDIERs, Turk and Guard entering. It was like a strange boyband that you’d forgotten you’d booked that night. In fact, you half thought they were that evenings entertainment until they sat down.

Sephiroth looked at Reno as he fell asleep resting on his hand. The guy had had twins a year ago and well… it showed nicely on his face. Zack was chatting away, but the two men hardly listened. Cloud had zoned out, trying to think of what drink he wanted to order.

“So Walled Fairy then?” Zack asked, “It is Clouds birthday after all.”

Sephiroth and Reno shared a look, they just shrugged and silently vowed not to touch the stuff.

Zack was quick to jump up and run towards the bar.

“Cloud… Don’t drink the walled Fairy,” Sephiroth warned.

The blond just nodded slowly.

| |

You approached the group half an hour later. The one they called Zack was getting pretty drunk, the others were taking their time over other drinks ordered. It appeared the bottle of Walled Fairy Zack had ordered, was being drunk only by Zack.

You collected a few bottles and glasses when Zack grabbed your arm. You blinked and looked at him.

“Have a drink! It’sh Clouds birthday!” he said with a chuckle.

You laughed a little but looked over to your boss, he was busy. You sat down and took the drink.

| |

Zack woke with his head banging and his mouth dry. He rolled out of bed groaning like an old man and walked towards the window. When he opened the curtains, he immediately knew something was VERY wrong.

For a start he was in Junon… and secondly… he was naked and had a wedding band on.

That’s when he noticed you sleeping soundly in the bed, he didn’t even know your name.

“no no no!” he whimpered looking around for evidence.

He found your name… on a marriage certificate. FUCK it had happened to him now. SHIT, and it was two days after Clouds Birthday night out!

“Err… Y/N,” he said softly stroking your face.

You woke with a start and screamed. Zack leapt back and covered himself with a pillow as you did the same.

“Z…Zack?? From the bar?” you questioned.

“Y-yeah um… funny story…” He held up his finger with the wedding band on.

Your jaw dropped. Seriously?

“Seriously?” You asked.

He nodded, “That and… well Its two days since that day in the bar.”

Your mind raced as you climbed out of bed, ignoring the nude state you were in and looked for your phone. You unlocked it and saw 75 missed calls and 67 texts. The final one informing you, you’d been fired.

You sunk down to your knees as Zack knelt beside you. He pointed to a notification and frowned.

Three people have liked your wedding video

“It was recorded!” Zack said taking your phone and brining up your videos.

| |

“I’m Married, Sephiroth is married! Zack you need to marry!”

Reno sloshed the cup full of green liquid everywhere, “Oops…”

Zack looked over to you, your head was on your arms. He shook a shoulder grinning like a crazed man.

“What about you!? marry me!”

“Alright,” you hickuped “ten I could show of ta my friendsh. Look at my SHOLDIER HUSBAND!”

You draped yourself over him and he lifted you in a fireman’s carry. He laughed carrying you out. Sephiroth looked into the camera and winked.

A good long shot of Sephiroth’s cleavage was in view for a long time before the camera panned up again. You were both stood in front of The Honeybee Inn.

“Hold dis,” Sephiroth’s voice mumbled as he passed the phone over to Cloud.

There was a great deal of thumbling, a shot of Clouds eye and then the Camera was back on the both of you as Sephiroth initiated the wedding. There was a clatter as the phone was dropped and the screen went black.

| |

“But how did we end up… here?” You asked looking at Zack.

He shrugged and took your phone again looking at your videos. There was another one. He showed you the screen and clicked on it.

“Honeymoon. You guys need a good honeymoon!” Reno shouted wrapping his arms around the both of you.

You batted his hand away as it slipped over your boob.

“Where?” Zack asked.

“Jooo… jooonnonon nnn,” Sephiroth slurred and hiccupped flopping over Cloud.

“Junon?” Cloud asked.

“That’s the one. Junon!”

“YEAH JUNON!” Zack shouted as he fog marched you towards the train station.

“I’ll get the helicopter and fly you there,” Reno slurred. “Wedding gift!” He snorted.

The phone was slipped into a pocket, there was a lot of inaudible chatter and laughter. The sound of a train for a good long while. The camera appeared once again in front of a Helicopter. Reno was climbing in and switched it on.

Zack and yourself climbed on and waved. You reached out for the phone, and it went black.

“How are we still alive?” You asked confused and a little scared that you got on a helicopter!

“Reno is very good at flying,” Zack replied.

| |

A month passed by, and you hurried through the halls of ShinRa looking for Zack. You hadn’t seen him in a long time. Deciding that perhaps getting drunk married wasn’t wise. But now… well now you had to!

You found him chatting to a helmet clad man. When he spotted you he made excuses and walked over to you.

“Y/N, are you alright?” He asked concerned holding your arm.

How kind, you both hadn’t spoken in a while, and he talked to you as if you were a long-time friend.

“Zack… I’m pregnant.”

| |

@renohasbigtits

@milliebeeweasel

@finalsegamangalover

@thedarkcoven

@marnixbokuto

@ladyalexandros

@local-flower-girl

#zack fair #ff7 #zack fair x reader #final fantasy vii #ff7r #crisis core final fantasy vii

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agbpaints · 2 years ago

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2022, A year in minis

Well we're almost at the new year so I decided to drag everything I've painted out of its many boxes and lay it out to see what I've done. Overall I think this is the most productive year of painting I've had yet, with 123 figures finished in total. I crossed some big milestones with my admech, surpassing 1,000 and 1,500 pts of total painted models. I also started collecting necrons, started collecting battletech, and finished the last few stragglers from my cursed city box. My speed at painting increased this year considerably and I've definitely improved my confidence in my own skills- I've started using basic freehand and weathering techniques on my models and my airbrush is becoming a significantly more used tool even if my motor coordination isn't good enough for it to be a tool for anything more than monocolor base coats.

My favorite 2022 projects

Scrap-mech. Equal parts infuriating and awesome. Cawdor bodies have some of the jankiest connection points I've ever seen but their aesthetic is top notch and slots right into admech. This was the first project I did using citadel contrast paints, and while I don't think they're the one stop replacement for normal techniques they were billed as they work fantastically as like an 'extra thicc' wash.

Battletech. I really did not expect to have as much fun as I did with these big stompy murder bots. The models are appropriately chunky and gave me a lot of practice with panel lining. I also discovered how much fun flocking is!

Vargskyr: One of my favorite monsters that I've painted and my absolute most favorite piece from cursed city. I had a lot of fun getting the hair to blend in with the skin on this big chunky boy.

Tech-wraith Kitbash. This was an idea that came like a bolt from the blue while I was buying discount models that went from notion to build to done in less than 3 days. It's mostly bits and pieces from a kataphron kit welded into a cairn wraith but I'm super proud of it.

Flayed One Kitbashes. Flayed Ones are one of my favorite necron things period and after my initial spooktober idea hit a roadblock I fell into my backup plan, a flayer killteam. The lord is probably my favorite model I built out of the mix- he's mostly a primaris intercessor mashed together with an old warrior sprue.

Goals for 2023

Pile of shame busting: holy shit do I still have a lot of bare plastic to get rid of. My biggest goals for next year are going to be finishing my warcry and infinity starters that I've left to molder in their boxes and building/painting the rest of my admech backlog. In total I believe this is about 60 models

Spooktober project: last year I recieved a Seraptek heavy construct second hand that's been hiding in a box in my attic ever since. After reading twice dead king I've decided to make it the Seraptek from That Scene (you know the one) but life and the overwhelming size of the project meant I wussed out for spooktober this year. With another year of experience and time to plan ahead, it's gonna happen this time.

Advanced techniques: I've been experimenting recently with non-metalic metal and its absolutely nerd sniped me. I suck at it, but I see a glimmer of something I could get better at that I'm gonna try to claw towards. I'd also like yo try messing around more with various blending techniques in general.

Model photography: so far all of my models have had their photos taken using a desk lamp, a piece of calligraphy paper, and the phone camera on my Samsung. They're OK but I want to devote some time and resources into upgrading my kit and skills here.

#hobby #mini painting #miniatures #warhammer #wh40k #warhammer 40k #admech #necrontyr #adeptus mechanicus #battletech #year in review #2022 #goals for 2023

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jungkxook · 4 years ago

Text

—out of the blue. (m)

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ genre: youtuber/gamer!jungkook + fluff / smut

⟶ words: 5,204

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ summary: catching your boyfriend bleaching and dyeing his hair for a livestream is definitely not what you expected — but it certainly has its perks.

⟶ warnings: established relationship, some attempt at humour, .2 seconds of sort of sub jungkook (you just like seeing him on his knees), you call jungkook a good boy, shower sex, hair pulling, oral sex, face riding, standing sex, breast play, cum eating, doggy style, unprotected sex, creampie

⟶ note: because blue haired jungkook has me feeling all sorts of things. also dedicating this to the lovely ryen @kithtaehyung because blue haired jungkook is getting her too and i hope this helps!! and thank you to the wonderful @gamerkooks and @stanrandomthings for always giving me inspiration for gamer jungkook <3

“What the hell are you doing?”

Jungkook has less than a second to react when he hears you bursting through the door of his bedroom, a guilty expression plastered on his face as if you’ve caught him in the midst of a much worse act than what he’s already currently doing ━ but the flustered scowl deepening your countenance is enough for him to certainly feel that way, because how else is he supposed to casually explain why he’s currently sitting shirtless in front of a camera?

Admittedly, the sight is odd enough, and there’s a split moment where your incredulous look is enough to make him feel as if he’s wronged you, and your six month long relationship with him, entirely before he remembers that he didn’t actually do anything wrong like cheat on you, but is actually just trying to dye his hair.

He’s sat in his gaming chair, camera and lights set up around him, and the monitor of his desktop all recording his face to the hundreds of thousands of viewers currently watching his livestream. He had told you well in advance about his aim to do a twenty-four hour live broadcast for his subscribers to both raise money for a donation and to countdown to his next subscriber milestone with the help of his friends ━ and had even asked you to help him plan the event, discussing it animatedly with you for the past month on various occasions ━ but mainly just because Jungkook is crazy enough to sit through a twenty-four hour stream and call it fun.

You had known most of how the entirety of the day would go. Starting from noon the previous day to now, almost an hour before the stream ends, thus far he’s done various gameplays from Minecraft to Overwatch to Among Us simultaneously with his friends who had offered to marathon with him the twenty-four hour event; had a period of time in which Jimin and Taehyung were over and cramped in his room to answer questions and talk to viewers but mostly just to create absolute chaos. You had been there for most of it, though you’re still trying to figure out if it’s a blessing or a curse that you were suckered into paying rent for your three bedroom apartment by Taehyung more than a year ago, and subsequently falling madly in love with Jungkook and forcing you to aid in his antics. You’ve been in a handful of his videos before, appearing in Twitch and YouTube streams, and in the background of vlogs in his channel and the channels belonging to the other boys; and, on that day for Jungkook’s twenty-four hour event, you had joined him at the start before being dragged away for work and then tried to pull an all-nighter with him until you crashed on the couch in the living room, and checking in on him occasionally to give him food and water and to just generally make sure your boyfriend isn’t dead.

Now, with the remaining final hour dwindling down, you had been in your room trying to finish last minute essay writing for school, with your phone propped up on your desk and Jungkook’s livestream playing as background noise to your studying. One minute, he had been playing a round of Among Us, and the next, when you had glanced up, he had the bottle in hand and the detrimental blue dye coating his hair in slick globs. It wouldn’t have been so shocking, had you not seen Jungkook an hour ago when he had his natural dark hair still, and now he had somehow managed to sneak in bleaching his hair in the time you had left him. Maybe it was your fault for not catching it sooner, if only because you had sheepishly taken a small nap amidst your studying only to wake up to a nightmare.

Which is where that leaves you currently, dishevelled demeanour standing at the threshold of his door after chasing over to his room, watching as Taehyung helps Jungkook sufficiently ruin his beautiful hair which you love so much.

“Uh… Dyeing my hair?” Jungkook finally answers, dumbfounded. He’s fortunate he had pulled off his shirt to avoid getting hair dye on it, an old towel now draped around his shoulders to catch any excess mess. He adds brightly, “We asked for suggestions on how to end the stream and someone said I should dye my hair, so Tae got the stuff.”

“You bleached your own hair?” You retort, exasperated. “When the hell did all this happen? I’ve been next door to you the whole time! What if your hair falls out? You should’ve gotten a professional to do it, not Tae━”

Taehyung looks inexplicably offended by your slandering remarks on his (lack of) hair styling skills, retorting with, “Yo, what the━?”

Jungkook blinks, as if just being made aware of what he’s actually doing.

“My hair’s gonna fall out?” he gaps. “Guys, what the hell? Why’d no one tell me?”

He looks from you to Taehyung then over at the comments on his livestream which are currently flooding with the sole topic of you. His eyes snag the first few that appear to him in the frenzied influx of words:

uh oh jungkook’s sleeping on the floor tonight

oh shit run bro

f in the chat for jk’s hair

get him y/n!!!!

“Dude, she’s just being dramatic,” Taehyung waves you off. He ducks out of the way when you reach out to Jungkook’s bed for a pillow and chuck it at the older boy’s head.

“And when he’s bald, then what━”

“No!” A helpless Jungkook exclaims suddenly. He gestures wildly to the stream, “Don’t give them ideas. The edits are gonna start pouring in.”

“Jeon, look, it’s too late to go back now,” Taehyung says. “You’ve got half your head covered in dye and three minutes to go with the stream. How bad can it be?”

A groveling sigh eclipses your lips as you push yourself forward. “Then at least let me help before you ruin it completely.”

Jungkook’s fortunate, to say the least, though he’s left wondering if you’re truly upset with him.

He finishes the countdown to the end of his twenty-four hour stream with you and Taehyung putting the last remaining globs of dye on his hair, a heartfelt goodbye to his viewers who marathoned the stream with him, and a promise to update them on the status of his hair when he washes the dye out.

And, just as soon as he’s shut his camera off, the mundane world returns to him.

It’s no longer millions of anonymous and faceless viewers watching him from the other side of their screens in the tiny bubble that is his room, but just you and Taehyung and the older boy’s frisky little Pomeranian dog and the threat of a wallowing regret as Jungkook thinks to himself, what the hell did he truly just do to his hair?

At some point, Taehyung retreats to his girlfriend’s house taking Yeontan with him, leaving you alone with Jungkook and he basks in the sudden cozy quiet after twenty-four hours of madness as the adrenaline rush begins to fade and mellow out. Back aching, joints cracking and popping as he stretches and moves, and eyes burning in the similar way they do from having stared at a screen for too long, but tenfold, he craves nothing more than to find your sweet and comforting touch to end such a long day.

He finds you in the living room already scrolling through your phone and your Twitter feed to read and marvel at all the comments and memes made by his viewers during his stream and his heart threatens to burst through his chest because you’ve always been so supportive of him and his fans, and they’ve always adored you and your endless interactions with them. So, surely, you can’t be mad at him for bleaching and dyeing his hair. Right?

As his arms come to wrap around you from behind, face nuzzling in the crook of your neck, he hears you bemoan, “You look like a Smurf came on your head.”

Wrong.

Well, not entirely, he guesses. You do lean into his chest, practically melting against him. A sluggish grin tugs at his lips and, instead, he chooses to ask, “Shower with me?”

“Aren’t you tired, Koo?”

“Baby,” he deadpans, and your heart flutters just a little bit, “by this point, I’m running solely on Red Bull and coffee that I’m positive I could fight the gods with my bare hands and win. In fact, I’ve had so much caffeine that I’m fairly certain I’ve ascended to the astral plane. Besides, I need to wash this dye out, and I could use some help. Sleep can wait.”

“Help,” You snort. “You’re such a liar. I already know what you want.”

“To spend time with my beautiful girlfriend? You’re right.”

“I’m not sucking your dick.”

He pulls his head back to look at you. Though he tries to look offended, there’s the tiniest of smirks on his face. “Wasn’t gonna ask you!”

You turn to properly face him in his arms and shoot him a dubious glance. He leans down to press a chilling kiss to your jaw, then nudges his nose against you in the same spot so that you’ll move your head. You do so, despite your prior scolding, and let him kiss the underside of your jaw down to your neck.

“Okay, fine,” You huff finally.

You relent, miraculously, but Jungkook had already guessed you would the moment he had found you in the living room and he couldn’t be happier.

He cherishes the moments alone with you, has come to know them well as he falls into a comfortable routine with you away from prying eyes over the last few months. Because sometimes, as he comes to learn, it’s hard to establish a relationship when his job requires him to be in the spotlight often. What is authentic and what is simply fabricated for views is difficult to discern, and yet you’re patient with him. Not everything to him is money and views and numbers, or what his next big plan is, or how you could potentially help him in some way (despite knowing that any video featuring you seems to skyrocket his views and land his videos on the trending page of YouTube more often than not because he knows everyone loves you more than him). You know when he’s his online persona and when he’s simply just Jungkook, and while there’s hardly any difference between the two, his online personality surely has to maintain a level of privacy and happiness that may not always be true.

At least with you, he can just be himself. He can finally be at ease.

Showering together is just one of the many acts of normalcy he cherishes with you. So, he turns on the shower and lets the bathroom get all warm and balmy as you undress. He’s the first one inside, hissing in delight as he lets the water run over his sore muscles, washing out the dye in his hair firstly so as not to get it on you and fortunately not making too much of a mess of blue dye in the tub. You’ve joined him in an instant when he’s nearly done, squeezing into the space in front of him as you shut the glass door behind you, the pane already beginning to fog and slick with droplets of condensation. He pulls you into him once more, nestling his chin on your shoulder as his hands come to wrap around you. They slide across your front, all wet and soapy, briefly gliding across your breasts, palms brushing against your nipples before traveling down to your navel.

“Congrats, baby,” You coo gently. “Twenty-four hours.”

He murmurs into your hair, “Missed you loads though.”

You turn to look at him finally, and it’s hard not to stare. Your eyes land firstly on his abdomen and the toned muscles there, trailing up to his arm and the pretty tattoos that decorate every inch of his skin, to his soft pink lips and his big eyes. Then, there’s the matter of his hair. The water has done most of the work in washing out the dye from his hair, now falling across his forehead and into his eyes and cheekbones, and it’s only then that you fully register the dye has worked as you struggle to find any remnants of his once-ebony-then-blonde locks. The blue hair is an obvious stark contrast to his natural hair and, you think, it is pretty, accentuating his radiant skin and making his eyes pop.

“I didn’t think you were actually serious all those times you said you wanted to change your hair.” Your lips are pursed as you survey him now, your fingers twirling a strand of his tresses around and around as you inspect it.

He smiles, catching your hand and pressing a quick peck to your knuckles. “Neither did I,” he admits sheepishly. “It sort of just happened.”

You pout. “I’m gonna miss your natural hair.”

“Do you really hate it blue?”

“I don’t hate it. Was more scared you’d ruin your pretty hair and make it all fall out.”

At this, Jungkook flashes you a cheeky smile. He holds his head a little higher. “So you still think my hair is pretty?”

“I think you’re a dork,” You clarify. “And, aside from the fact you almost gave me a heart attack, I’d say the blue is so pretty. Beyond pretty. Kinda hot, if I’m being honest.”

Because you’re not really mad, but it’s fun just to tease Jungkook and see his reactions. At the very least, he can sense this, as it’s apparent with the way his smile stretches even wider on his face.

“Hot, huh?”

“Mhm. But you didn’t hear that from me.”

He feigns a look of mock hurt. “Oh no. You must be really mad. Want me to make it up to you?”

“How are you gonna do that?”

“Well, what do you want from me?”

You take a moment to think it over, but the answer is already obvious enough. It’s one that even he knows, and one that has won you over the moment Jungkook was freed from his stream. You hum aloud, “You, on your knees, head between my legs, like a good boy. Think I can get a better viewpoint of your hair from down there anyway before I judge it.”

“Like a good boy?” A dark smirk tugs at his face. “So now who’s the needy one?”

He lowers his head so that he’s leaving a trail of sloppy wet kisses down your neck to your collarbones. As you let yourself get carried away for a moment, you wrap your arm around his neck, pulling him backwards until you’re pressed up against the glass door. He ducks even lower, kissing just above your left breast and then catching your nipple between his teeth. You swallow thickly, rubbing your thighs together, reminding yourself to respond to him.

“It’s not my fault when you were busy for the past day,” You pout. “And the blue hair really is sexy.”

“Aha!” he straightens up in front of you suddenly, a crooked smug smile on his face. “So I’m not just hot. I’m sexy.”

“You’re literally always sexy. And beautiful too. It’s almost unfair.”

“That’s even better.”

You tug your fingers at his damp locks. When you speak, your voice is a mix between urgency and a whine. “Jungkook. I could’ve already gotten off with my hand at this point.”

“Ouch, feisty!” He pokes his fingers at your sides. Then, nipping a little more firmly on the soft skin of your breast, murmurs huskily, “Alright, alright. But only if you call me a good boy again.”

Part of him is taunting you, but there’s a small sliver of intrigue that makes the thought in his head and the pretty words on your tongue excite him to no end.

Still, you choose to entertain him, maybe a little drowsily and entirely consumed by him, “I will if you let me ride your face.”

A rumble of a chuckle resonates from him. You find him on his knees in the next moment, wedging himself between your thighs. He nudges one of your legs and you follow the wordless command, hitching one thigh over his shoulder as you settle back against the glass door of the shower. He kisses at your hips as he dips his head lower and lower to where you want him, before swiping his tongue at your cunt, tasting all of you at once.

“Mmm, Koo━” A soft whimper sounds from you, making his head swim.

He wastes no time in lapping at your folds, tongue delving into you deeper and deeper as he cranes his neck. The wetness that pools between your legs and on the tip of his tongue is a sticky mess that he basks in just a little longer.

“Fuck,” he groans into your pussy, “you taste so fucking good. Missed this so much.”

His hands are big as they come to hold you close, cradling your ass, your thighs, your hips, anything to pull you into him while simultaneously pushing your thighs further apart.

You manage to find your voice and quip weakly, “Missed me or having your head between my legs?”

“You, definitely,” he murmurs. He busies himself by reaching out with his thumb to press circles against your clit. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan, hips rutting into his face. “All of you.”

“Jungkook━ Fuck━”

He burrows further into you, humming in response. His nose brushes against your clit, the muscle of his tongue a pleasant wet that makes you warm all over. You give another experimental swivel of your hips, grinding against his tongue just right. He pinches at your hips as if to probe you onward, and then you do it again, and again, desperately rocking your hips back and forth against him. Your fingers reach out to grab a fistful of his hair, clutching it so tightly he hisses. But you’re right. The blue locks look dazzling between your legs, being pulled by your hands as you push him further into you.

His eyes meet yours from below your waist, hooded and idle, enjoying the view as you squirm and writhe above him, shamelessly riding his face. Grinding against his chin, nose, and tongue, the slick wetness you leave behind glistens on his skin.

“Ah, Koo━” You cry out. “Fuck, I’m gonna━!”

Your orgasm hits you violently, sending you keeling. Your hips continue with reckless abandon, and Jungkook presses his finger against your clit a little harder, a little faster. The abrupt gushing warmth between your thighs sends your mind spinning, as the steam from the shower and your panting breaths begin to fog the bathroom. When your hips begin to slow, Jungkook laps at the rest of your leaking core before pulling away with a grin brandishing his shimmering face. He lets you pull him up eagerly, clumsy hands fumbling to hold either side of his face as you tug at him.

“God, you’re so hot, babe,” he sighs wistfully, smothering your lips with his for an all too chaste kiss, before leaning in once more to nibble at your lower lip.

“Wanna feel you, Koo,” You prompt urgently. “Want you in me.”

Jungkook hastens to comply, his hands falling to your waist. “Go on, then. Turn around for me.”

You don’t need to be told twice. You spin so that you’re facing the glass sliding door, your back to him. You watch him over your shoulder, momentarily admiring his well built stature, the tattoos that ink his body, and the water that shimmers on his skin. He has to push his wet hair up and away when it falls across his forehead and then he reaches down to grasp at his length, grip tight around his shaft so that he can pump himself sluggishly a few short times. It’s almost painful to watch him jerk himself off in front of you, the tip a burning red and glistening. He catches you staring and decides to catch you off guard when he grabs a hold of your hips with one hand. He yanks you towards him, your ass pressed firmly against his hips, making you jump from the startle, and grins when you look back at him.

Then, ever so slowly, he runs the length of his cock along your folds. Before you can brace yourself for the overwhelming rush of pleasure, he’s sliding his cock past your folds, burrowing into you deep. He curses behind you, his other hand flying out to steady himself by digging into your hip.

“Fffuck. Shit.” He dips his head so that his cheek is resting against your shoulder and sputters for air. “Jesus, fuck━ Been dying to feel you all day.”

He fits so snugly in you, so perfectly, just like always and you take him so well, coaxed by your own arousal. He ruts his hips forward into yours and you nearly fall forward before catching yourself by pressing your palms to the glass. Then, he’s grinding against you, small and precise thrusts that roll into your hips.

“Mmm, Jungkook,” you choke out. “You feel so━ So good.”

“Ah, shit,” he hisses. “Wanna wreck you so bad.”

He angles his chest a little more, pummels his dick into you in such a way that he’s hitting a different spot in you. His eyes stay fixated on the soft, round flesh of your ass and the way his cock slips so easily into you, brows screwed in concentration, jaw clenched. The slight bounce of your ass each time he rolls his hips firmly against you, the way you ricochet forward each time in tandem with his moves. You bow your head, pressing your temple against the glass door now tinted with condensation, only marked up by the imprints of your fingers grasping at anything. It’s almost sweltering hot in the shower now but you both pay no mind to it. He fucks into you with such languid, steady strides, cock beginning to throb and twitch in anticipation. You feel so wet, such a pitiless mess between your thighs already that it makes him growl.

“H-Harder,” You mewl. “Oh, Koo━”

He almost slips behind you in his eagerness to obey, awakening something animalistic in him, a yearning to just release all the tension in his core. This time, he adapts a measured pace, forceful thrusts that have you crying out in delight each time. One hand reaches up to grip at your shoulder to steady himself while his other slithers around your front to grasp at your breasts, all wet and supple, pinching at your nipples.

“So good,” he moans, pressing sloppy kisses just below your ear. His breath is hot as he pants behind you, sending tingles down your spine. “Fuck━”

His voice is cut off by a whine, hips bucking forward in an unsolicited manner as he feels his high drawing near. You lean your head onto his shoulder, stretching your arm out so that you can tug desperately at his hair. It’s a silent, simple command, but it’s one that he immediately understands even without you speaking.

“Wanna feel you━” You whimper. “Wanna see you.”

Jungkook nearly slips as he fumbles to pull out of you, hissing at the loss of warmth and friction. As soon as you’ve turned to face him, he wastes no time in closing the distance between you. He pushes his leaking cock past your folds once more and continues at the same pace as if he had never even stopped to begin with.

“Fuck,” he whines. “Not gonna last━”

You wrap your arms around his neck, drawing him even closer to you, as he presses you against the glass. He hitches one of your thighs around his waist, spreading your legs just wide enough to hit a certain spot that has both of you crying out. You’re clinging so tightly to him, fingers digging harshly into his skin in an attempt to alleviate the building pressure you feel. He knows you’ve almost reached your end when you resort to a gasping, moaning mess, writhing beneath his broad stature.

“Close, baby?” he hums.

You open your mouth to respond but can only muster a whimper. His pace treads over to heedlessly frantic, the sound of skin against skin and the lewd wetness filling the shower. Despite his hips pounding into yours so harshly, his fingers flutter so delicately under your chin, grasping it and moving your head just enough so that you’re facing him.

“Lemme see you,” he grunts. “Wanna watch you when you cum all over my cock. Always so pretty.”

“I━ I’m━ Fuck, Koo━”

But you can’t finish your thought.

You keep your gaze fixated on Jungkook’s, however exhausted and weary it may be. Your lashes flutter, brows knit together, and you suck your lower lip between your teeth, biting so hard Jungkook’s certain you’ll bruise it. Another few hard thrusts and then you’re reaching your high, overcome by such an intense burning that you can’t help but look away out of instinct. You cry his name, face contorting in pure pleasure, and chest arching to meet his. You’re clenching so tightly around him has him sputtering for air, nearly collapsing entirely against you. You’re near dripping around his cock which only means he almost slips from you with each draw of his hips that he makes. It’s why he sloppily rocks his hips into yours, desperate to reach his own high as well.

When you return to your senses, blinking away your blurry vision, you can make out Jungkook cooing into your ear, “That’s it, baby. Doing so well.”

You meet his gaze once more, only this time you’re perhaps even more tired. Hooded eyes watch him, silently probing him to his climax. He comes tumbling towards it, a few more short thrusts of his hips and, finally, he’s there. He slams his hips up into yours one final time, crying out, and then he’s releasing into you in an overwhelming abrupt gush. Only he can’t quite enjoy it because, out of genuine accident and driven by impatience to just get off, the last jerk of his hips hits you a little too hard.

It’s what causes you to slip backward and he, so lost in his own reverie, hardly has a proper grip on you or where he’s standing. When you lose your footing beneath you, slipping on the wet porcelain of the tub, and comes crashing down, he’s brought along with you. “Oh, fuck━!”

The both of you yelp from the surprise, your hands flailing out to brace yourself for the fall.

Fortunately, you land on him when you reach the bottom of the tub, courtesy of him grabbing onto you last second so that he can soften the blow upon impact.

Unfortunately, the breath is knocked out of him from the startle and from the sudden added weight of you on top of him with no warning.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he groans.

“In hindsight,” You wince as you shift your weight above him, “maybe having sex in the shower again wasn’t the greatest idea. Remember last time when we knocked the shower curtain down and I had to get stitches on my elbow? It’s why we got the glass door installed, and then we had to lie to Tae about it.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” He tilts his head back, rubbing a hand over his face. Then, he flashes you an all too charming smirk. “Was kinda worth it though.”

You giggle, sounding so sweet and angelic, even despite the way his cum still leaks from you. Somewhere in the fall, his dick had slipped from you and now lays softening on his stomach which, really, is probably the worst part of the accident to him. He already misses the warmth of you wrapped around him, your mingling cum a dirty mess around him. You prop yourself up on his chest with your palms, but before you can even think to respond, you notice something out of the corner of your eye.

A small mass of fur in the shape of little Yeontan has just poked his head through the crack in the door, oblivious to you and Jungkook’s compromising position. And then, shortly following behind him, is his equally oblivious owner who must have forgotten something in the apartment to bring him back so suddenly.

“Tannie, get back here━ We gotta go━ Oh, Jesus, what the fuck?” Taehyung appears at the door for a millisecond before noticing the situation he’s just stumbled upon. Thankfully, he acts fast, and clamps a hand over his tainted eyes, clumsily scooping up Yeontan in his other hand. “Can you guys please stop fucking all over this damn apartment? My son’s eyes are too pure for this!”

And then he’s retreating, but not before bumping blindly into the doorframe, grumbling along the way. It’s silent for a moment as you and Jungkook gawk at one another; then you hear Taehyung leave the apartment once more, and the both of you dissolve into a fit of unabashed laughter.

“Are you okay?” You ask once you’ve calmed down enough as he reaches out to shut the shower off. You plant a kiss in your boyfriend’s hair. “You hit your head coming down.”

Jungkook’s heart swells at your gentle touches and smiles. “I’m fine,” he promises brightly. “You?”

“Well, you did just thoroughly fuck me, so━” You shrug innocently. “I’m kinda still too giddy to even care.”

“I’m gonna make it up to you,” he says. “For almost giving you a heart attack with my hair and for almost putting you in the emergency room again just now.”

The mention of his hair draws your attention to it once more. It’s not as wet as before, damp azure waves falling into his eyes that you brush away gingerly.

“Yeah,” You snort, “but I’ve decided I like your hair. Like, really like it.”

“Yeah?” he grins wide. “What was the deciding factor?”

You pause, as if to think for a moment. Exhaustion riddles your body and you know sleeping curled up next to Jungkook is nearing your future, but for now you let yourself entertain the last remnants of whatever lewd thoughts are still on yours and his minds before they fizzle away completely. You can’t help yourself anyway. The blue really is nice.

“Definitely the view of you eating me out,” You say. “And can’t forget how pretty it looks when I’m pulling at your hair.”

“Say no more,” he beams. “Then I’ll make it up to you by making you cum on my tongue again and again and again.”

The last thing he hears before he grabs at your cheek to softly pull you down to him for one last kiss, slow and ardent, is a bubbly giggle from you that delights him to no end.

“That’s a good boy.”

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

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Looking for a Place to Happen

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity.

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: We’re starting Sam’s installment but this weekend I’ll probably only be catching up on my headcanons and drabbles because I’ve been a lazy bitch and I’m sorry to those who have been waiting.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 1: I've got a job, I explore

💀💀💀

The sleepy town of Birch was awake.

In those last weeks, the arrival of outsiders had roused the attention of many once passive residents of the timeless territory. Those brick buildings unchanged by the tick of the clock inlaid into the old tower above the library that chimed every hour on the hour. They still stood with only chips in the mortar but the air tasted different. The frost was more bitter and the sky more grim. An omen of something no one could predict.

It was the perfect setting for a screenplay. The isolated town with its unsavoury secrets and the visitors who threatened to bring them to the surface. It was inspiring to you, to imagine what was hidden behind the stern wrinkled faces of the town elders and under the jackets of those men who wore the cut of the local club. The bikers ruled the town covertly but everyone knew that Bucky Barnes’ palm was lined with the map of Birch.

As a bystander, an unnoticed observer, just another ant in the hill, you watched from the side and amused yourself with the drama of others. It was like a soap opera or another HBO hype machine. Those things you aspired to when you could be free of this ho-hum town.

The snows added to the natural gloom of the place. The deep heaps smothered the noise and harkened back to those days of colonial settlement. Forgotten, desolate, fearful.

You ventured down in your heavy boots that stretched to your knees and pushed your chin down into your scarf. As a child, you ran and jumped in those piles, now you were out of breath just trying to walk past them.

You stopped in the bakery that doubled as the only café, a place where the owner, Babs, tried to to intimidate the last caffeinated trends. She was always a few seasons behind but you didn’t mind so much.

You ordered the salted caramel mocha and waited patiently as the quiet woman fought with the steaming machines. She was older than you but you’d work with her for one summer during high school, only five years ago. She had the eyes of a child still, but there was something worn in her. As if she’d been exposed to far too much in her three or so decades in that place. She was a harbinger of what you didn’t want to become.

You thanked her for your drink and set out once more into the billowing winds. Birch winters were never kind but this one was crueler than most. Your teeth chattered as you blew the steam away from the lid and hugged it with your mittened hands.

You stopped short as you heard the familiar ding of the diner door across the street. You recognised the mechanic who kept to herself and once growled at you in the grocery store. She stormed across the street, followed closely and quickly by a black-haired man you’d only seen once before. He was one of those outsiders who came to deal with the club men.

You sped up as you sensed chaos brewing and pulled out your phone as you balanced your paper cup in your other hand. You flicked your camera on just as you got to the front of the shop and the man grabbed the mechanic. You let out an ‘oop’ as she turned on him and you aimed the lens at the couple as they fell into the snow, the man’s shoes giving little traction to his steps.

You moved closer, stunned by the scene, and kept your cell phone rolling as you found a better angle around the snowy walks. As she choked him on the ground he elbowed her and she coughed as she rolled away. She snarled as he clamoured to his feet, slipping and sliding as he marched away.

You killed the recording and watched the man cross the street again, nearly wiping out as he did and when you looked back to the mechanic, she was gone behind the clattering door. You chuckled to yourself and tucked away your cell. It was prime footage for TikTok; with a bit of editing, it would be comedy gold.

💀

You stomped up the steps of your grandmother’s house, this time through the front door as you heard her chair rocking in the front room. You usually took the stairs in the back as you paid her to live on the upper floor of the duplex. You checked in with her daily, she didn’t get out much more than the occasional trip to the grocery store when you couldn’t or you dragged her out to join you for a tea at Babs’.

“You’re late,” she grumbled as you set your cup down and unzipped your coat.

“For what?” you scoffed.

“It’s after noon and you don’t even come down to say hello? A ‘good morning, nan’,” she harrumphed.

You chuckled and hung your coat before shoving your boots over on the mat. You grabbed your mocha and leaned on the doorway as you watched her crocheting in her chair, reruns of some court show playing from the boxy television.

“I was working,” you said, “sent in some stuff for review. Hopefully not much work to be done.”

“I don’t know how you make money on that interweb,” she bemoaned, “I don’t trust it.”

“Maybe you’d trust it more if you used the Netflix subscription I got you,” you crossed your arms, “then you wouldn’t have to watch trash daytime TV.”

She shrugged and muttered under her breath. She could be crotchety but you liked her sense of humour. Your aunts and uncles never came around because they just took it as spite. You were the only one who knew how to handle the jaded old lady.

“Maybe you coulda looked out the window,” you snickered, “quite a show going on in town.”

“Hmm, what’s that?” she stilled her needles and reached for her tea stained cup.

“Just a fight. You wouldn’t believe it, that lady mechanic beat the shit--”

“Language,” she huffed.

“Anyway, she had this guy in a chokehold. It was awesome.”

“What guy?” she squinted at you over her glasses.

“I dunno. Some out of towner. Remember I told you about that burly dude hanging around the library?”

“There’s more?” she sucked on her teeth, “those bikers have never been good news and now they’re bringing in more.”

“Yeah, well, what’re you gonna do?” you sniffed as you took out your phone and rewatched the scuffle with the volume down. You shook your head and opened up your TikTok.

“I don’t understand why you’re always on your dang phone,” your grandmother pestered.

“I’m not always on my phone,” you smiled at her smugly, “there are those time when I’m listening to you prattle on or you know, making you tea, oh, and cooking you dinner. What was it I did last week? Oh that’s right, I got Pippin out of the crawlspace.”

“I’m too old to be chasin’ that cat all around,” she huffed, “where is he anyway?”

“He’s your cat, I don’t know? Last time I saw him, I sent him back out the window for shredding my charger.”

“He knows you need to give it a rest,” she laughed to herself, “got your nose to that screen too much.”

“And what do you do, old lady? Crocheting doilies to put where exactly?”

She gave you that dry smile, the one that said watch it but carried a hint of humour still. You hit post and put your phone away as you waved off her irritation.

“Well, you know what, I sit all day at my computer, doing who knows what and you know what it got me?” you taunted, “a large mocha!” you sipped as you sat on the sofa and grabbed the remote, “and it’s paying my rent and putting bullet points on my resume.”

“Mhmm,” she scowled, “just remember, real life ain’t online. Those videos you’re always laughing at like hyena, that’s not reality. You forget it and it’ll come back and bit you. ‘Specially with those bikers.”

“Oh, nan, you know too well, don’t you? Didn’t you have a fling with one back in your hippie phase?”

“Two, actually,” she raised her brows, “I was young and stupid. Not like you, but still.”

“I love you too,” you chirped and sipped from your cup, flicking the station to Jerry Springer, “that’s more like it.”

💀

Your usual TikToks were sarcastic and dull complaints about your small town life. The response was less than pleasing but it gave you an outlet to vent. You liked to goof around and document the very specific type of weirdos that resided in Birch. But the video of the fight in the snow blew up your phone and made it difficult to ignore the buzzing as you went back up to your room to eke out the last of your captions for the ad agency.

When at last you could call your day hard-earned, you logged off and sent in your hours to the agency. Social media promotion was easy enough but the working gigs for a thousand different companies was tedious. You hoped you could build your portfolio enough to manage a single corporate page as you continued to chip away at your creative outlets.

You picked up your phone as you waited for Netflix to load on your tiny smart tv and flopped onto your bed, not two feet from your desk. You hit the icon in the upper panel of your phone and scrolled through the notifications, pausing to turn on another episode of the cable sitcom from ten years before. You snorted as you read each comment but the number under the video made your eyes round. The thing was bound to go viral.

As usual, you went down to help with supper. Pippin, the orange tabby, returned to cry at his dish and you fed him too. Your nan peered through her glasses at a crossword as she tasted the tangy pasta sauce.

“More basil,” she snipped.

“Well, I asked if you wanted to help,” you muttered, “I think it’s good.”

“Hmmp, I need milk,” she jutted her chin out, “for my after-dinner tea.”

“You couldn’t say something like three hours ago?” you blinked.

“I could have but I didn’t,” she snickered. You rolled your eyes and she took another forkful of penne and filled in another line on her puzzle, “ah, no hurry, girlie, you know I’m patient.”

“Patient? You?” you chuckled as you took your plate and shoved it in the microwave to keep it warm. The ancient thing had a dial and the door stuck, “I’ll just go get it over with.”

“Don’t forget your mitts,” she called after you as you tramped into the front room, “it’s cold.”

You pulled on your knitted cap and matching mitts. You zipped up your parka and shoved your feet into the deep boots. You grabbed your wallet and buried it in the spacious pocket. You bounced out the front door and down the steps as the sky sent down another coat of powder for the night.

You went up White Forge Street and through the short path behind the diner that led to the main road. You glanced over at The Asp, the beacon of the dull town, and turned towards the grocer. Like anywhere in Birch, the store was outdated and stuffy. It felt like stepping into another time with the paper bags and chunky tills.

You went down the center aisle and stopped at the fridge to search through the frosted glass. Your nan only drank whole milk and the last time you carelessly grabbed skim, she whined that even Pippin wouldn’t drink it. She was particular but that was just her nature. You couldn’t say you were any less fussy in some instances.

You grabbed a jug and the door slapped closed against the worn rubber seal. You headed up the candy aisle and brushed your woolly thumb over your chin as you considered gummy bears or Reeses’ Pieces.

“Hard choice?” The deep voice jolted you.

You snatched the box of chocolate and looked over at the man in leather, his chin tucked down behind the collar as snow dusted his shoulders.

“Sure,” you said as you brushed past him.

The cut of the leather told you he was better not entertained. While you thought the men amusing, you weren’t stupid enough to engage with them. You rarely listened to your grandmother but she was wise in her own way.

You knew a girl in highschool, she was fucking around with one of the club men in her junior year, she ended up with a baby and no support. You didn’t think he was into you that way but he could hardly have innocent intentions.

“How’s the old lady?” Clayton asked as he rung in your order at the end of the belt, you moved along with the groceries and pulled out your wallet.

“The usual, you know? She’s tryna quit again. Don’t know how long it’ll last.”

“Oh yeah? I’ll keep a carton aside for her,” he kidded as you felt your phone vibing in your back pocket.

“Don’t encourage her,” you swiped your card and punched in your pin, “although I don’t know what’s worse; the smoke or her sucking on those mints all the time.”

“Oh, it’s not the bitchin’?” he laughed.

“That, too,” you scooped up the paper bag and put your wallet away, “have a good one.”

As you came to the end of the first counter, you were nearly cut off by the club member as he swept around from till two. His own purchase of a car magazine and jerky was tucked under his arm.

“Ah, sorry,” he smiled, a sparkling smile, almost charming.

“No worries,” you continued on and he followed close behind.

“Those mitts look real warm. ‘Specially in this weather,” he said as you pushed open the door.

“Uh huh,” you kept on as your boots crunched out into the snow.

“You know where I can get a pair. Leather isn’t exactly thermal, you know?”

“These? My nan made ‘em. I’m sure Clayton got some hung up back there,” you looked across the street as you stepped up onto the ledge of snow between the sidewalk and the road.

“Am I bothering you?” he asked.

You looked at him dumbly and almost laughed in his face. You glanced back across the street then down towards The Asp.

“Sorta,” you answered.

“Make you a deal. Leave ya alone for your name.”

You eyed him. He was older than you like many of the Commandos. At least a decade, likely more than that. You chewed on your hesitation and cradled the bag more firmly against your side. His eyes strayed as he tried to see through the thick layer of your coat.

“Nah, I’m not s’posed to talk to strangers,” you said and hopped off onto the road.

You heard him behind you as he struggled to follow and as you came up to the other side, he came parallel with you and kept stride with you easily.

“I know you’re young but you’re not a kid,” he intoned, “what’s the harm in a name?”

“It’s a small town,” you stopped short of the end of White Forge, “I think I know enough about you to avoid you.”

“Oh ho, is that it? Well, I’m Sam, I’m not a stranger now, am I?”

“Not interested, Sam. Sure there’s women your own age over at the bar,” you nodded behind him.

“You wanna come see? Maybe have a drink?” he gave a crooked grin.

“You don’t give up, do you?” you shook your head, put off by his forwardness.

“Well?”

“Not tonight, Sam,” you turned around and headed down White Forge.

“Then what night?” he asked but you didn’t answer and he didn’t follow.

You turned down onto your street and refused to look back in case. It would be best not to mention the run-in to your nan, she was paranoid enough as it was. Besides, you’d forget about it by the end of next week.

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lisatelramor · 2 years ago

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Crossing Borders Ch1

Earlier in the year I gave the hypothetical question of "If I were to write something, what would you want me to write?" and someone mentioned a crossover of Untamed(or MDZS) and Detective Conan, and my brain went "HMMMM." Months and months later, I finally have something to show for it haha. I could have put this out a month earlier if only I'd sit down and edit >_>;; Anyway, whoever requested this, I hope you like it! It's complete and I'll be posting one chapter a week til it's done. Thanks to Meridiangrimm for bouncing ideas with me in the early planning of this story!

+-+-+

If there was an ideal way to visit China for the first time, Conan was absolutely sure that this was not it. For one, they’d only come because of a sketchy prize trip Kogoro got for some mountain getaway. A trip for three, so lucky him, he’d been dragged along. Which was a problem considering ‘Conan’ didn’t have a passport. Plane shenanigans and a new extra-short-term antidote had been the answer there, so Conan—or Shinichi, rather—got into China in one piece, but it turned out that this mountain getaway was in the middle of nowhere.

And their rental car was… kind of terrible.

It had broken down two kilometers from the parking lot for this place, only for them to find that the only way to reach it was to literally walk up the mountain with hundreds of stairs and gravel pathways like it had been designed by some person who thought cardio was the only way to live life. It had taken a phone call to get the car replaced, an hour of exhausting climbing, and Kogoro swearing under his breath as they dragged their suitcases to reach the gates. Gates that looked like they’d be more fitting in a monastic setting than a resort.

Honestly, at this point Conan had started to wonder if the resort existed at all, except there had been several cars in the parking lot, and there were people wandering around that weren’t in old-fashioned robes with cellphones and cameras in hand, so clearly this place was famous for something. Definitely not for its logistics as a tourist place though.

That was about the point where a …monk?... of some sort came up and greeted them, triple checked the tickets, and led them to the plainest looking guest rooms he’d ever seen.

Honestly, there were no electric outlets, a basic overhead light, a working bathroom, and beds with mattresses so thin that they barely qualified as such.

“What the hell?” Mouri fumed after their guide had left them with a time for dinner in stilted Japanese and a handful of English pamphlets. “What is this, a hotel or a monastery? There’d better at least be good food and booze up here.”

“Actually,” Conan said, picking up one of the pamphlets that seemed to be made up of things guests were not allowed to do, “it looks like alcohol is forbidden here. As is smoking and other recreational drugs.”

“You’re shitting me.” The pamphlet was ripped from his hands as Kogoro squinted at the English and Mandarin printed on the page. “What kind of shitty resort is this?!”

“It’s not a resort,” Ran said, looking at a brochure with pictures of the mountain and the compound’s buildings. “It’s a place for people to retreat from the modern world and reconnect with their inner selves—or something. My English isn’t that great.” Ran looked at her father. “What kind of contest did you enter?”

“One of those ball lotto thingies. There’s a little old Chinese lady by the racetracks with a food shop and she had a drawing going…”

Sketchy. Very very sketchy, Conan thought, side-eying Mouri. What small shop would have a prize be an over-seas trip? “Please tell me there are return tickets,” Conan said.

“Oi, of course there are, brat!” Mouri growled, swiping at him. Conan ducked away with the remaining brochure in hand. “Ugh. Should have known this was too good to be true.”

“Well,” Ran said, always trying to put a bright side to things, “At least we get a few days to see China. And it’s really nice up here. Maybe this is still a good chance to relax. The brochure says they have tea ceremonies and meditation and music that you can take part in.”

“Let me guess, flirting with guests is also forbidden,” Mouri grumbled. “Please tell me there’s at least a hot spring here.”

“Nope, but there’s a cold spring,” Conan said, eying the map. A cold spring, flower and rock gardens, a dozen or so buildings, and, weirdly, an area just labeled ‘animals.’ Was it a petting zoo? Farm animals? Dogs?

“Who the hell would want to swim in cold water?” Mouri asked. He heaved a sigh and sat on one of the dubious-looking beds. “Ugh. Maybe I’ll just hole up here and catch up on my sleep.”

“But… We should take the opportunity,” Ran said. “You like music.”

“I like Pop music. With a place like this, it’s probably all traditional stuff. Maybe I’ll just hike down to the nearest town and stay there while you two enjoy the monastic life.”

“Otou-san,” Ran complained.

Honestly, Conan wouldn’t mind not having Mouri around for a while. At the very least, he wouldn’t have to endure his snoring. There had to be something here that would catch his interest, so it wasn’t like he’d get bored. If nothing else, there were probably some trails with a great view considering they were on a mountain. Maybe he’d go find some pretty sights and take photos for souvenirs. The Detective Boys would probably like that.

“Well, whatever we do, we should probably eat dinner here,” Conan said. “The timing seems pretty strict according to the notes.” The map had a bullet list of different numbers with descriptions. Each meal wasn’t more than an hour long, and breakfast was held at six in the morning. Conan hoped there would be coffee or having to get up that early was going to be hell.

Mouri huffed a sigh. “Fine, but if it’s miserable after a day, we’re leaving.”

Ran smiled and started unpacking their bags into the provided clothing chest. Conan took another look at the map. The trails looked like a nice enough way to pass some time. Although after all that climbing, he would prefer someplace to relax.

Well, there was a library listed. Even if they didn’t have a large selection of books in other languages, he could probably find something interesting there until it was time to eat.

“Ran-neesan, I’m going to go to the library for a bit.”

“On your own?” Ran asked, looking up from arranging socks to one side of the chest.

“It should be fine. If I get lost, I can ask for help. There’s a lot of people here.”

“Be careful then!” Ran said, letting him go like he knew she would. “It’s only an hour until dinner so don’t stay too long!” Mouri didn’t even look up from where he was flopped on one of the beds, an arm thrown over his eyes.

Conan smiled as he shut the door behind him. Now he could explore.

*o*o*

Wei Ying couldn’t say that the Cloud Recesses were his favorite place in the world. There were hundreds of nit-picky rules, it was literally in the middle of nowhere up a mountain, and the cell reception and internet speed both sucked. But it was also where his boyfriend lived, and between that and the fact that he’d brokered a deal to use their library for research even after his controversial theories on cultivation got him more or less excommunicated from the rest of the cultivating world went a long way toward making up for the drawbacks. The Lan had the biggest collection of cultivation texts, probably even bigger than Qishan Wen, not that they ever shared their knowledge with other sects. Wei Ying was willing to put up with rules, and working with tourists or clients so that he could keep working on his theories.

Did those theories have to get looked over by a council to determine if he could move on to practical testing? Yes. But most of them actually got approved, and the talismans alone were earning him a permanent place in the Lan’s stuffy academic hierarchy.

Talisman research was why Wei Ying was in the back corner of the library today, crowded in by tall shelves of stupidly old books and scrolls. The sort of books that were old enough that most of them were hand-written and bound in traditional styles. Only cultivators bothered to go back this far. Visitors, when they chose to go in the library at all, tended to stick with the more modern, mass-printed sections of the library.

Which was why it was noticeable when soft footsteps lingered near his aisle.

Wei Ying looked up from a text on the evolution of warding talismans in the last three hundred years to spy a child frowning up at the labels on the shelves. Probably wondering why there were so many shelves dedicated to occult and religious things. Or maybe not, Wei Ying thought, as the child muttered something that definitely wasn’t Mandarin or any other dialect that Wei Ying knew. So, foreign guest maybe?

“Are you lost?” Wei Ying asked in English, figuring that was the safest bet with a foreigner.

The child twitched in a way that would have been a jump-scare if he hadn’t clearly stopped the motion before it could fully start. Wide eyes framed with thick-rimmed glasses looked his direction. “Oh, excuse me. I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said. Accented English, but not Chinese accented, and not completely American either. Wei Ying had watched enough English television to hear that much, but like heck if he could place where in the world the rest of the accent came from. Being Asian didn’t necessarily have to mean he was from Asia.

Wei Ying shoved the musings of linguistics aside to size the kid up. Kinda scrawny, in shorts and a button-up that would fit in with the preppie civilian clothes some of the Lan wore. Definitely needed new glasses because those were so big they didn’t look like they were made for his face. “Just looking around?” Wei Ying asked since his first question hadn’t been answered.

“Uh…” The kid sized him up right back, lingering on Wei Ying’s long, messy hair, and the black ripped jeans he kept because they were so comfortable. “Yes. I was hoping to find something to read.”

“English?” Wei Ying asked. He pushed his research aside; nothing that wouldn’t keep for a bit.

“Mm, or Japanese.”

Ah, Japanese. That solved the linguistic mystery. “There is an English section, but I don’t know how much of it is children’s books.” If anything, the section was full of self-help books, meditation and spirituality guides, and a rag-tag collection of fiction books left by guests over the decades. The Mandarin language books had a whole section for kids in comparison.

The child wrinkled his nose a bit, like Wei Ying had given him an insult. “I can read adult books.”

“Uh. Okay.” In English? Wei Ying eyed the kid. Maybe he was just…a bilingual prodigy or something because most kids that little weren’t reading proper chapter books yet. Well, he could roll with that. “Follow me then, I guess.”

There was something unnerving about this child that Wei Ying couldn’t put his finger on. Not the requesting adult books; kids wanted to act older than they were all the time. It was more the way he moved, like someone aware of his body in the way kids weren’t, and how he looked around. There were a lot of children who’d visited—or lived at—the Cloud Recesses, and while the Lan kids were mostly polite and quiet, even they got easily distracted and fidgeted and all those other things kids did before adults trained it out of them. This kid looked more like someone who’d been on a few too many night hunts gone wrong, which wasn’t exactly the sort of thing that indicated a safe childhood.

Maybe that was why he was here though. Maybe someone had sent him along for the Lan’s special brand of ‘therapy.’

The little corner of foreign books was probably the most comfortable area in the library, in part due to it being the area that tourists used most often. There were chairs with actual cushions and Western style desks in contrast to the traditional seating in the deeper parts of the library. The lighting was brighter and it looked like a place someone could relax in instead of someplace only fit for hours of private study.

Wei Ying waved a hand at the shelves. “There isn’t many, but this is it.”

“Thanks,” the boy said, zeroing in on the nearest shelf like Wei Ying’s troublesome donkey would go for an apple. He skipped straight past the self-help, meditation guides, and art books, straight to the sad collection of fiction.

This kid was definitely looking at those books and judging them.

“…is this really it?” He wrinkled his nose at the spine of a paperback novel that Wei Ying had found very… evocative. Provocative? Hell, his English wasn’t good enough for the kind of prose in there. There was only so many times someone said the word ‘cock’ before he figured out that a chicken wasn’t involved.

“That’s really it,” Wei Ying said.

The boy sighed and picked out a well-read novel that looked like some kind of cheesy, themed mystery.

“You know, there are other things to do.”

“But only an hour until dinner,” the kid said, pulling himself and the book onto one of the chairs.

Oh yeah. Food. Hmm. Wei Ying could go to the dining hall tonight. Or he could skip and Lan Zhan would probably sneak food to him later. Eh, he was pretty sure he was getting to the interesting part in the book, where people truly started innovating with talismans. “Happy reading then,” Wei Ying said, waving as he turned back toward his study nook. The boy hummed distractedly, apparently already engaged with the novel. Good on him then.

Wei Ying went back to taking notes.

*o*o*

The library was huge, and it wasn’t what Conan had hoped. Between not knowing Chinese beyond a few words and phrases, the different meanings of similar characters, and not knowing how the classification system worked to even begin sorting out how things were organized, he was left with only a shelf’s worth of books to leaf through. Well, no, two shelves. But the other shelf was non-fiction, and even if Conan’s English was good enough to read novels, it wasn’t good enough for the sort of technical terms he’d be finding in most of those books.

For such a big library, it was honestly surprising how few people were in it. Conan had passed a few people near the entrance, and a few more tucked away in the stacks, but they had all been dead silent as they worked, making the library feel like a cartoonish stereotype where if he so much as spoke, someone would appear to shush him.

Thankfully, one person looked a bit more approachable in the back of the stacks.

The books there were older, some hand-bound and clearly showing signs of years of use. Not that Conan could tell what they were about. The man in the corner was young, with ripped jeans and dark clothing and paper strewn around him, standing out like a sore thumb in the pale neutrality of their surroundings. Not wearing the robes that some of the people were, or the modest dress of many of the guests, but clearly comfortable here from the way he sprawled in the chair and the number of books piled on his desk.

He'd looked up and met Conan’s eyes, spoken English first, and that was the only reason he felt he could interrupt. It felt wrong to interrupt the silent studiers, but not if he was being addressed first.

Conan was lucky that he spoke English—actually pretty good English, though maybe it wasn’t surprising considering that there were tourists here, and enough of them spoke English for there to even be a collection of English books.

No Japanese though. A few in French, or Russian, a fantasy novel in Spanish, and a couple that Conan didn’t immediately recognize the language, but no Japanese. At least he was proficient enough in English to enjoy a mystery novel, even if it looked predictable and had a tacky pun in its title.

Conan almost lost track of the time reading. The hush of the library was surprisingly peaceful, and the actual contents of the novel weren’t terrible. If the story was going where he thought it was, it might be a nice twist to the usual tropes. But the clock was ticking, and meals were only available for an hour. Resolving to finish the book later, Conan returned it to its place and stretched.

It was kind of nice to have a minute to just read. No cases, no homework, no small children at his heels or being self-conscious of how he acted for a bit.

Back to being a grade schooler, then. Ugh.

It was a few minutes past time to eat already, and Ran was probably starting to wonder where he was. Conan paused before he left, though, because the man that showed him the books hadn’t left yet either, and if he’d immersed himself in books again, he might not remember to eat. Not that it was Conan’s business whether people took care of themselves or not, but this person had been kind enough to spare a moment. Conan could spare one back.

The man was back to being hunched over the desk, frowning down at what looked like an arcane diagram in the book closest to him. The notes on the table had similar scrawlings with little offshoots of characters around it like they were commentary or something. What on earth was he studying?

Conan cleared his throat. The man twitched, leaving a streak of ink on his notes. Why write with a brush when there were perfectly useful pens or pencils? “Excuse me,” Conan said. “It’s dinner time. If you wanted to eat, you should probably go soon.”

“Mm?” The man messed his hair up even more as he ran a hand through it, strands pulling free of a messy bun. He blinked at Conan with a distracted frown. “What about dinner?”

“It’s the time the brochure says they’re serving it.”

The man looked at a backwards wrist watch. “Oh. Huh. Time flies.” He stretched, back popping like popcorn, and offered Conan a grin. “Thanks, kid, but I was going to skip it and have my boyfriend sneak me illicit food later.” He winked, like this was a secret, but considering Conan had just met him, he probably just told this sort of thing to anyone. “You should go though, since guests don’t have that option.” Ah, not a guest confirmed. “I recommend heavy use of any condiments on the table; the food here is bland as hell.”

With that, he gave a friendly wave and Conan was left pausing for a moment before leaving. Well then. Not a guest, allowed to access anything in the library from the look of it, and dating someone who had access to the kitchens, or at least a kitchen. If that person was a native to this place, it had to have been interesting circumstances that led to him dating a man that looked like the opposite of this place’s aesthetics.

*o*o*

The food was just as bland as he was warned. Conan picked at vegetarian fare with little enthusiasm as Mouri glowered down at his food like it personally insulted him. Besides the clack of bowls and chopsticks, it’s dead quiet too, because everyone was discouraged from speaking. Ran, at the start of the meal, had tried a positive “It looks very nutritious,” but even she looked like she was wishing for some kind of spices. The food would be perfect for a monk or someone recovering from starvation. Not so much for people tired and hungry after a long day getting there.

“Is this a prison or a monastery?” Mouri grumbled under his breath, pushing tofu and cooked greens around the thin-broth soup.

Ran gave him a warning look. One of the guests had already been stared into silence for breaking that particular rule and she clearly didn’t want the negative attention directed their way.

Conan gave up on the bitter greens and focused on his rice. That, at least, was cooked to perfection even if it hadn’t been cooked with anything to add a bit of flavor. The silence was boring, and with nothing to hold his attention—the food certainly wasn’t managing that—Conan turned to people watching.

The guests looked to be from varied walks of life, and from around the world. Surprisingly, only about half appeared to be Asian. How people from Europe, Africa, or the Americas had even heard of this place was beyond his understanding; Mouri hadn’t even found a web page for it. And yet there almost thirty visitors from the looks of it, not including Conan’s group. There didn’t seem to be anything obvious about why they were here, but Conan could guess that it involved a need for some kind of retreat from the modern world, or maybe some form of therapy considering some of the books in the library.

Which only raised questions for why Mouri had ended up with tickets to this place. This wasn’t exactly the sort of thing anyone pictured when they won a ‘getaway’ in a foreign country.

The guests closest to him were around college age, toeing the line of no conversation at meals by elbow nudges and exaggerated facial expressions that had each other biting lips to hold in giggles.

All except for one of them.

Conan forgot about his food entirely, focused on a girl at the edge of the group that kept glancing toward the door like she was waiting for someone to enter. One of her friends nudged her and she gave a grimace-like smile before going back to door-watching. She’d barely touched her food.

Conan narrowed his eyes as the girl’s neighbor whispered something to her, a response back, shared frowns and a glance at the door before a shrug and the soft hum of a dismissal. The cold stare of the permanent residents turned their direction. The girl didn’t even seem to notice, her worry now joined with frustration.

Something was wrong.

Of course something was wrong. When had he last been able to enjoy a trip without something going wrong? Conan sighed and started paying closer attention to the group and anyone looking at them. Statistically speaking, if someone was dead—it was practically a foregone conclusion with how his luck seemed to run these days—then they probably were done in by someone in the friend group. Barring the odd habits of serial killers, most murders were done by people who knew the victim. Sure, there was the odd random shooting or stabbing from a mugging gone wrong, an occasional hit and run car accident, or other accidental murders, but premeditated murder tended to be personal.

Conan really hoped that their friend was just running late.

*o*o*

Wei Ying finally had a breakthrough about a half hour later, finally finding a source that actually brushed on his research without condemning it wholesale. He was furiously scrawling notes and theories and ping-ponging ideas as fast as they came to him when the dull clang of a bell started somewhere on the premises. Not, he realized, the same bell for meal call or wakeup and curfew. This, resonating and repetitive, was some sort of alarm.

In the year or so that Wei Ying had been at the Cloud Recesses, he had never heard this particular bell. There had been incidents with visitors, an escaped ghost, and a bunch of cattle somehow getting all the way up the mountain, but none of them had ever triggered that bell.

Wei Ying put down his writing and left the deep stacks for the nearest window.

Outside, the distinctive white robes of Lan cultivators moved with impressive speed—considering running was forbidden—in pairs in all directions. Patrols. And coming up the path was a cultivator with a body, red staining white. Shit.

From this distance, it wasn’t clear if the body belonged to a resident or a guest, but the fact that they were being carried in someone’s arms instead of a stretcher probably meant that whoever it was had died. …He really hoped it wasn’t a resident. No offense to the guests, but he’d grown a bit attached to some of the people here.

This was probably way outside his allowed duties, but really, who could sit back when someone was dead? Wei Ying abandoned his work and headed toward the body. He could help. Surely someone was going to play Inquiry to figure out what had killed the person, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t find out more at the site. No one here might like the fact that Wei Ying wasn’t squeamish about sensing and interpreting resentful energy, but no one could argue that he wasn’t good at it.

He could feel threads of resentment as he got closer. They were taking the body to the clinic, probably to examine it for injuries and cause of death. However this person died, it wasn’t a good death.

“Hey,” he said to one of the power-walking cultivators moving his direction. “What happened?”

The man—Wei Ying really should know people’s names by now and yet—grimaced. “A guest fell off a cliff. One of the junior disciples spotted him while on patrol.”

“On one of the walking trails?”

“No.” The man gave a quick shake of his head. “A good ways off them, closer to the ward boundaries. Guests aren’t even allowed in that area.”

“An accident?” Wei Ying asked, already knowing it wasn’t with that kind of resentment lingering already.

“Yet to be seen. I think they’re planning to play Inquiry after everyone is escorted to their lodgings.” The cultivator shifted, eyes darting in the direction he was headed. “We’re doing a sweep on the off chance something got through the wards. Lan Qiren will direct you where you’d be useful.”

Without a goodbye, the man hurried away. Wei Ying frowned after him. Well, he wouldn’t be reporting to Lan Qiren. That would only get him stuck doing something boring and tedious like babysitting the rest of the guests when he could be actually useful investigating. Wei Ying cast a look at the path toward the clinic. Look at the body first, or the cliff? Hmm. The body wasn’t going anywhere unless it woke up as a fierce corpse and fought its way out. The cliff, on the other hand, was outdoors and subject to the whims of nature—or tampering.

Wei Ying wasn’t the least bit surprised when he found Lan Zhan heading the same direction. Alone, but who would order around the current Lan heir if he didn’t want to take a partner? Naturally, Wei Ying could fill that role just fine. They’d done night hunts together enough that it’s easy to fall into step.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying said.

“Mm.” Lan Zhan tilted his head toward an area of the mountain that Wei Ying had never explored—it was a large mountain, and for all he liked to slip in and out of the wards sometimes on his own, it wasn’t like he’d explored everywhere.

“Inquiry?” Wei Ying asked as they stepped off the path.

“I will perform it on site. My brother will play to the body.”

“Ah, because the spirit could be either place.” Some souls stuck with their corpse. Others, especially people with violent deaths, frequently haunted the place they’d died in. Rarely, there were lingering traces in both places, resentful energy talking whatever path it could as it leeched into the environment.

Whoever retrieved the body left a marker charged with spiritual energy, and the closer they get, the more Wei Ying could feel the tingling pulse of it. The marker, he would admit with no little pride, was one of the talismans he’d made in recent years to aid night hunts. Yeah, there was always flare talismans, and modern tech was great for communication, but sometimes a hunt got interrupted or there were details that needed double checked at a later time. Having a marker made things so much easier to find.

There was the chill of resentful energy underneath the hum of the marker, subtle enough that most cultivators probably wouldn’t notice. Something so fresh, the spirit often hadn’t fully regrouped yet, hadn’t even had a chance to fully feel the impact of their unjust death. It made it less of a haunting here, and more of an echo, the malicious energy of whoever did the act twining in with the growing resentment of a spirit piecing itself toward consciousness. Wei Ying came to a stop by the marker talisman with Lan Zhan at his side.

“Bet you a bottle of Emperor’s Smile that it was murder,” Wei Ying said, looking at the sharp drop ahead. In spring, it might be a small waterfall, but without snowmelt, it was nothing more than a patch of rocky ground with a nice view—unless someone were to fall off the ledge and onto the jagged rocks below. The body had to have been flown out; this wasn’t a spot to easily climb from any direction.

“No bet,” Lan Zhan said. He pulled out his guqin and settled on a nearby boulder.

“But it would be such an easy win,” Wei Ying said wistfully even as he crouched down to examine the ground. Footprints, but it was hard to tell if they belonged to more than one person; they were all approximately the same size.

“I will buy you some later, no bet needed.”

“Ah, breaking the rules for me. It’s no wonder your uncle thinks I’ve thoroughly corrupted you.” Wei Ying snorted as Lan Zhan kept a perfectly unimpressed look on his face. “You love me.”

“I do.”

Wei Ying almost tripped over his feet as he stood up, sputtering. “You can’t just say things like that! There’s a maybe murder scene right there!”

“Hm.” The tiniest smile flickered at the corners of Lan Zhan’s mouth before his fingers touched his instrument’s strings. Then it was pushed away, Lan Zhan’s whole bearing shifting to his task.

Wei Ying only knew a few phrases of the musical language, but he could appreciate its eerie beauty, the call and answer along the strings.

At any rate, something was answering. Time to do his job. Wei Ying took a breath, centering himself and his energies. People, things, could leave impressions. Resentful energy could gather in a touch, or an object. Here the energy seemed to slip in close to the footprints at the edge, almost like there hadn’t been ill intent until last moment. And yet the energy didn’t retreat with the footsteps away from the cliff either, like it appeared out of nowhere and vanished just as quickly.

Wei Ying frowned at the scruff in dirt and gravel right at the edge. The slip of a foot. A bit of blood on a sharp rock jutting up near the lip of the cliff—maybe an attempt to catch himself? He’d have to see the body to know for sure. And below—

There was a lot of blood down there. A broken bone through the skin or a head wound. Maybe both. The rubble at the bottom was jagged enough that it could have been a quick death if the victim had fallen at a bad angle. Or maybe a good angle because the other option was a slow, agonizing death as he bled out.

There was resentment down there though, gathered in the blood, so it probably hadn’t been instantaneous. A quick death wouldn’t be this strong this fast. The victim must have had time to think of regrets or anger or the pain.

He pulled his sword out of the qiankun pocket sewn into his pants, stepping on it without bothering to unsheathe it. Suiban carried him down, its blade patient and level as they balanced a handful of centimeters above the blood. Ah. There, the impression of fingers scraped in the patch of sandy pebbles tucked between larger rocks. An attempt to move, maybe, but injuries prevented it.

Wei Ying glanced up at Lan Zhan, the sounds of Inquiry still plucking to life above him. …Technically Wei Ying wasn’t supposed to do what he was about to do. But technically no one explicitly said he couldn’t do it, just implied. Lan Zhan wouldn’t care so long as he was careful though.

It was a bit like Empathy, but not quite. There wasn’t any spirit before him to connect with or to direct the memories he was seeking, but there was blood and resentful energy, and that was imprint enough if someone knew how to access it. Wei Ying was very good at accessing resentful energy.

He touched a finger into the congealing puddle before him. It was already cool, sticky in the way blood could be, and not at all appealing to touch. Maybe five years ago that would have bothered him more. He’d seen worse than a puddle of blood—touched worse than a bit of blood—by this point in his life.

The resentful energy sparked when he reached for it, curling and clinging like an oil-slick mess, coating his finger and up his palm in black wisps of power. It pushed at him and Wei Ying did what good, righteous cultivators were not supposed to do and let it in.

#detective conan #the untamed #mdzs #dcmk #fanfiction #my writing #crossover

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boom-bakugou · 5 years ago

Text

‘Wedding Crashers’ - Katsuki Bakugou

A/N: Sorry for my inactivity but here’s a little sorry and thank you present for me hitting 1k! I love you all sm <3

Pairings: Pro Hero!Bakugou x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+, ooc deku; but it’s more of a headcanon, semi-public sex

Summary: Your ex-boyfriend Izuku Midoriya inviting you to his wedding is a definite stab in yours and Katsuki Bakugou’s backs. But you’ll show him.

Word Count: 5k

masterlist

You had considered your morning to be relatively normal, breakfast not burnt, coffee just that right amount of bitter to stir you awake. But those happy moments of peaceful bliss were soon to be fleeting as your mail arrived. Sifting through the pile to what you assumed would be bank statements and bills; your fingers landed on a cream white envelope. Your name printed neatly in a cursive font that when you followed it with your eyes for too long it almost made you want to puke. Tearing it open haphazardly, you read the perfumed content inside.

‘Dear Y/N Y/LN,

We are very proud to invite you to the blah blah blah wedding of pro hero blah blah Izuku Midoriya and blah blah blah.

RSVP blah-‘

Wait what? The taste in your mouth was pitiful. Yes, you and Izuku had dated years prior and after being childhood friends, yet it didn’t end… swimmingly. But this didn’t feel like inviting a childhood friend to your happiest day, no, this felt like a backhanded swipe at your ex-girlfriend who was well known to the media to be single. Pro-Hero gossip magazines made sure of that.

Throwing the invitation onto your countertop, your eyebrows furrowed with spite. You felt weak almost, watching your ex-best friend grow up to be this bountiful hero with merch in every store that you went to. Though you had triumphed well in the hero charts yourself, nothing ever seemed to compare to him. The golden boy. You never really got over the fact that he ended things because being a single hero was more postable than one who was tied down. Until now. Mr. Big shot getting married. It really made you question your integrity,

Recuperating your thoughts, you realised your phone was buzzing on the couch next to you. Checking to see the influx of text messages, you saw Katsuki Bakugou’s name fill up your lockscreen with notifications.

Bakugou: tell me you got the stupid fuckin invite too

Bakugou: the nerve that nerd still fuckin has

Bakugou: inviting his childhood ‘friends’ after all this time

Bakugou: tch, one big publicity stunt if you ask me

You chuckle as you scroll through the messages, gladly knowing that you weren’t the only one feeling this way.

Y/N: so what’re we going to do about it?

Bakugou: what do you mean?

Y/N: well we can’t show him up at his own wedding but we can sure stir something of our own

Bakugou: well that idiot is marrying some nobody extra

Bakugou: probably to show how ‘great’ he is

Bakugou: so how about if two top pro heroes rsvp’d together?

Y/N: you mean us?

Bakugou: no, midnight and grape juice. of course us you idiot

The idea brewed in your head for a moment. Izuku had always been nice when he was younger, and Katsuki hadn’t exactly been the nicest towards him in return. You were always the mediator in those situations. However when Deku grew and grew in the hero charts he started to lose touch with reality. Not really remembering what being a hero was about besides having his face stuck on a lunch box and raking in the dough for it. It was sad. You didn’t know who he was anymore.

Y/N: fuck it, i’m in

“You know, don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a tux before.” You chuckle, arm linked around Bakugou’s as you stepped out of the chauffeured car together. You were here to make a scene. Paparazzi glistened everywhere like a moth to a candle flame. You couldn’t wait for the tabloids in all honesty.

“Shut up.” Bakugou grumbled, almost in embarrassment. But his smile didn’t show a hint of it. “Not looking too bad yourself.”

You had coordinated well. Your maroon dress flowed in the gentle summer breeze and matched perfectly to Bakugou’s equally coloured tux. You two were such a pair it was nigh impossible to not think that you two were together today. And the paparazzi made sure of that indefinitely.

You couldn’t lie about how the service was beautiful, because it was. However you didn’t need to hear the shutter clicks of a camera go off every few words they spoke. It was distracting, and you and Bakugou shared a glance each time it occurred. Stifling a giggle, you hoped no camera would pick that up. Even if they did, they’d probably pin it to ‘look at these other heroes wishing that they were the next to get married!’ they’d eat that shit uplike ambrosia.

“Can’t wait to see the reception.” You mumbled towards Bakugou, your plastic smiles never fading for the cameras. Izuku making a show of himself and his new bride.

Watching him was almost bittersweet. The happy memories of you three as children flashing behind your eyes. Now replaced with a fame hungry number one hero. Where had all the time gone?

“What’s got you so perplexed?” Katsuki asked, filtering your way through the crowd, making your way to the cars that would deliver you all to the reception.

“Just-“ You sigh, allowing the cover of other heroes to hide you from the all seeing eyes of the paparazzi. “I miss him, y’know? Miss how we used to be.”

“Tch.” Bakugou didn’t care about the scowl present on his face, your words ate him up like some sort of bacteria. “Thought you said that he was the most selfish guy you’d ever dated?”

“He was but like-” You watched Izuku’s back as he held his new partner’s hand. Waving to the cameras and not watching her, as lovely as she looked in her wedding gown. “As weird as it sounds, I sometimes miss high school.”

Bakugou’s eyes scanned your face, following your eyesight to Midoriya. Fucking extra. The thoughts swam around his head, polluting his mind. He knew Izuku’s break up with you had been a massive toll on your mental health and your ego. He made you think that you weren’t good enough for him, and Bakugou never got over that fact. How could he pass up on you for anything else?

Breaking apart from the conglomerative of wedding-goers, Bakugou lead you to one of the specially hired cars to take the guests to the reception. Despite Bakugou’s abrasive and rough nature, you couldn’t help but notice how delicately he held your hand. Not tugging you along or haphazardly grabbing you by your wrist, making you follow him. No, his fingers interlaced with yours and you felt the coarseness of his palms due to the explosive nature of his quirk.

“Katsu?”

“Hm?”

“You can let go of my hand now, we’re in the car.”

“Yeah- whatever.”

Catching up in the car, you both realise how little time you have to actually spend with each other. Though you and Bakugou communicate 1000 times more than you do with Midoriya, heroing keeps you both busy. No times like these to goof off and be with each other. You missed it, you missed your hot-headed idiot friend.

“Hope there’s less fuckin’ paparazzi here. Think I’m gonna go blind with those extras pointing them in my face.” Bakugou rolled down the tinted window a smidge to watch as the car drove into an old looking manor hall where guests had already begun to arrive.

Flowers decorated the ground and just as you two got your hopes up, you saw a line of paparazzi at each side of the staircase leading to the double-doored entrance.

“Well, it was worth a try.” You remark to him, patting his back as you chuckled to him.

Bakugou was the first to exit, standing beside the door so he could reach for your hand to help you out while you fixed your dress. Just as the two of you began to reach for each other's arms to walk into the reception together; there was a brusque tug to your dress. Upon further inspection, a member of the shutterbugs had stood on a long section of your dress. Allowing himself to get pictures of it stretched out and flowy.

“Hey!” Bakugou didn’t waste time on pushing him off the tail end of the dress. “Try anything funny like that again with my girl and say goodbye to that shitty camera of yours!”

The man nodded, slowly letting his camera hang loose on his neck. The rest of the cameramen easily caught the scene but you both couldn’t care less. What’s a wedding without a little drama?

“Thanks Katsuki.” You note with a soft smile.

Bakugou’s hand tenderly makes its way around the small of your back until his arm is holding you close to him as you walk inside. His hand sitting in a caring way at your hip to assure that nothing could come between you both. You could not wait for the media to plaster this fake-ness on every outlet that they could! However, you liked the thought of relishing in the attention right now.

Once the dining festivities had come and gone. It was time for their first dance. Watching as he held her under the blue lighting had your heart hurting slightly. The thought that that could’ve been you. But Bakugou was right. He’s probably marrying some quirkless nobody not only to make himself look better, but being with another hero is messy. You both had media eyes on you; but… you couldn’t help but wonder how different your life would be like if Midoriya was how he used to be.

You didn’t even notice Bakugou’s eyes on you the whole time. Not wanting to waste a second of his eyesight on the show Izuku was putting on. You were a sight of your own. How could you not see that you deserved someone better? Someone like him. You always spoke about how everyone was under a facade when supporting Deku, but you never correlated that to yourself.

After a short while, others began to join in on the large dance floor. Perfectly spacious for all the famous faces and their egos. Bakugou’s hand traced down your arm until his hand clasped with yours, gently leading you to the floor yourselves.

“What’re you doing?”

“Come on, who’s to say we can’t have some fun too huh?”

Smiling at him, you followed his lead. His hand occupying your waist before pulling you in closer to his chest. Flowing with the music, you couldn’t help the cheesy smile on your face; nor the one that spread to Bakugou’s.

“Why’s no one ever tied down Mr. Ground Zero then?” Your question takes Bakugou by surprise, showing a small blip in your combined graceful swaying to the music.

“No ones good enough.” Such a Bakugou answer.

“You’re sounding like Izuku, but he probably got that from the old you.” You jested, earning an eye roll from Bakugou. “I’m being serious! Come on you can tell me.”

It takes him a moment to figure out an answer, so much so that he doesn’t focus on dancing anymore. He just stands there holding you before locking eyes again.

“Just haven’t found the right person to deal with my bullshit I guess.”

There’s a beat of silence and your eyes search his face for answers. You didn’t even realise how close you were to him. His breath fanning your face, the smell of oak and fire and burning sweetness engulfed your senses. You also didn’t realise how the two of you sank closer and closer into one another.

“Hey Kacchan, mind if I steal her from you?”

Izuku’s voice almost sends you two flying away from each other like same sides of a magnet.

“Ask her yourself she’s not mine.” You turn from Bakugou to give a friendly smile to Midoriya, allowing your hand to rest in his. “I’ll be at the bar. Free drinks and all.”

His answers are short, curt. Yet before you can ask him if he’s alright Deku spins you and begins to dance with you in his arms at the tempo of the new music track that’s playing.

“Long time no see Y/N!” His manner has always been so chipper, despite the facade of it all. Though Bakugou and you went there to purposefully to cause discourse; you don’t think you have it in you to be mean to Izuku’s face.

“Yeah, look at you! Married man now, must be scary.” You chuckle, almost nervously. It was like speaking to a stranger.

“Well I guess I’ll find out! But come on that’s been the subject of the whole day! I wanna know about you and Kacchan.” You felt like Bakugou right now, the old nickname boiling your blood as it did his. There was no doubt Izuku took influence from Bakugou and his fiery personality; but he took it in all the wrong ways. Using confidence to become cold, uncaring.

“Oh- haha, Katsuki and I aren’t-“

“Y/N. Don’t lie to me! I can see the way he’s burning holes in my tux from over here.”

Turning you to the music so you could face where Katsuki was standing, you peaked behind Midoriya’s arm to see Bakugou with an all too familiar scowl on his face. Chasing down a beverage in a crystalline glass in one easy gulp.

“If you ask me Midoriya he’s always looked at you that way.” You laugh your statement off but you meant it with malice.

“Midoriya? Feeling formal today are we Y/N?” He had completely lost touch of who he used to be. “I used to look at you like that when I saw you with other guys, I know what that look is.”

His comment stops you dead in your tracks, not allowing for him to swing you to and fro to the music.

“Actually Midoriya I don’t even remember you looking me with jealous intent other than when I was higher than you on the hero charts.” Shaking yourself free from his towering position on you, you stormed off to the patio doors, letting yourself be eaten by the oncoming darkness of night.

Crying at your ex’s wedding. Not something you’d think you’d ever do in your lifetime but here you were. Thankfully you couldn’t see any reporters or such outside so for now, it was just you and your tears. Maybe you were too harsh on him? You used to be friends right? What happened to that kid who wanted to be a hero who you looked up to? What happened to the boyfriend you had who kissed you goodnight and ignored you when your face was on the TV more than him or snapped at you when he was announced lower than you and broke up with you because ‘heroes dating are messy!’ No. Bakugou was right. He was a self-righteous bastard now.

“Y/N?”

You half expected Midoriya to come out after you but he was probably entertaining other guests. Luckily, as you turned you saw Bakugou standing outside with you, signature hands in his pockets with a dumb, sympathetic smirk on his face.

“Hey.”

“I promise I didn’t punch that asshole at his own wedding but I can tell you he got a fuckin’ earful from me. Hope the paps got a good pic.” His tone was joking but it hadn’t cracked a smile from you yet.

“S’alright. Wouldn’t give two shits if you did.” You sniffled, collecting mascara tears on your fingers and wiping them on the decorative concrete bannisters of the balcony. “Shouldn’t’ve fucking come. This was stupid I have too much baggage for this shit.”

You turned away from him, allowing yourself to lean out on the barrier, looking into the distance on the warm night. You could hear Bakugou give a small sigh before his arms snuck around your waist, pulling your back into his chest before placing a chaste kiss on the top of your head.

“That fuckin’ idiot didn’t know what he lost and it’s my fault for influencin’ him.” The pain in his voice was evident. Did Bakugou blame himself for the hurt Midoriya caused you?

“Katsu-“

“No. That extra is so blinded by the shit everyone has to say that he’s forgotten what real life is. Doesn’t care about his stupid fans or his friends or the best most understanding girl in the whole fucking world. A girl I know does the best for everyone no matter what her own situation is.” You turn around to face him, not wanting to leave his embrace. “Y/N. No matter how much I’ve always wanted to fuckin’ win I’ve just wanted the best for you. And when that bastard did what he did to you- I- fuck. You look at him, like you’re waiting for him to just notice you; but every time I see you it’s like I’m seeing you set the stars in the sky every fuckin night. You just- you’re fuckin’ everything to me Y/N.”

It was completely silent on the balcony besides the low thump of the music from indoors, but it was deafening. But it all faded when his lips attached to yours. It was so clear. All that pining over Midoriya when he was just copying the one who actually saw you for who you were. He even copied Bakugou’s crush on you, most likely to make him jealous. But your mind had no time to think of that when all you could feel was Bakugou.

It was like you had never been kissed before, never felt the love and sensuality behind it. Soft and moist but breathy and warm. For once Bakugou didn’t wish to win a battle, he wanted unity and to be together with you. His hands danced over the delicate curves of you in your dress; taking in every inch of your perfect body. The gasp that fell from your mouth was perfect entrance for Bakugou’s tongue to mingle with yours. The sparks hot and electric between you both was like liquid lightning.

Just as your hands found home in his hair, you heard the all too familiar sound of today of a photo being taken. Bakugou is the first to break the kiss to find the intruder of your special moment. Your lips already feel blushed and bruised but your heart was nearly pounding out your chest.

“Fuckin’ print that in your gossip magazine you extra!” Bakugou couldn’t help but heartily laugh at the man as he shook with worry after catching the intimate moment. He wanted to show you off. He wasn’t ashamed that his lips had captured you to be his.

“Let’s go somewhere more private.” He whispers into your ear and you eagerly nod, grasping his one hand with your two as the both of you manouvered your way through the wedding guests until you finally found a small closet down a hallway where no one from the party had entered.

Slamming the door shut behind you, your eyes drank in Bakugou’s frame. How had you missed that small boy you once knew had now become this beefy, beautiful man? Who was looking at you with the same awe and intent? Bakugou cornered you against the door of the supply closet, latching his lips together with yours once again as if he was scared he’d never be able to taste you again.

“You’re fuckin’ perfect.” Katsuki’s lips mashed with yours as his hands slid up your dress, the coarseness of his fingers against your soft skin sending shivers down your spine.

All those years of being a hero really showed on Bakugou, he lifted you with ease as your fingers traced scars on the back of his neck; holding on for support. His hips pin you against the door and you feel his cock hardening between the fabric of your underwear and his suit pants, you can’t help the whimper escaping your lips at the friction of him.

Bakugou’s hands slip under the straps of your dress, letting them fall delicately to your sides as his lips ensnare yours. His grunts and your whimpers enough to make any passerby know what was going on in the confined space of the closet. His fingers glide beneath the dress which allowed it to fall further as Bakugou felt the weight of your breasts in his palms.

“God you’re fucking everything princess.” His fingers slide beneath the lacy fabric to thumb your nipples, perking and tugging it with his forefinger.

Breaking the kiss, his head lowers to encapsulate the bud in his mouth. Gently suckling it before rolling it feverishly between his teeth. Your hands snaking through his hair only spurring the assault on your supple flesh. Biting your lip to stop the obvious moans that were threatening to spill out of your mouth. You swore you could see stars as his tongue flicked against the pointed nub- sending your nerves wild.

“Bet that fucking extra never treated you like this baby.” He matched your height, his gaze never leaving your own as he took both of your tits out of your bra; kneading the flesh and buds of your nipples as he spoke. “Just wanted to get himself off, I know how to fuckin’ treat you right.”

“Then do it… Kacchan.” You spoke with such gusto in your breathy state, knowing that the old nickname would make him see red. And god did it send him feral.

His body pressed you further into the door, even if it felt like he couldn’t. The aching feel of his cock rubbing against your clothed core made you mewl in want of him. His fingers slid beneath the hem of your dress and made little pricking motions into your inner thighs until he traced a slit over your panties.

“Shit you’re fucking wet.” The pads of his fingers kneading against where you wanted him most, a chuckle falling his lips as your hips did their best to try and get any sort of relief.

“Katsuki please- please fuck oh my god-“ Your neck craned back as you felt your body take control. The low growl in Bakugou’s throat at the sight of you barely touched and already begging for him.

Tracing his fingers along your décolletage he stopped when he met your parted lips before roughly shoving his fingers in your mouth, pressing down the body of your tongue.

“Please please please-“ Katsuki mocked. “Please what princess? Better use your fuckin’ words or else.”

An insufferable smirk played upon his lips as he felt your cunt clench around nothing at his dirty words. Pulling his fingers from your mouth, he wiped the remnants of your spit across your tits; awaiting for your response.

“Fuck me Katsuki- please you’re all I want. God you’re all I need.” Although said in your aroused state. You meant it- and he knew that.

Not wasting any more of the precious time you two had before you were inevitably found out considering your blatant disregard for being quiet; Bakugou used his hand to tug off his belt. Nearly setting his suit pants on fire as his quirk crackled in anticipation for you.

Your body clung to Bakugou’s for support, his whole body easily keeping your pinned high between himself and the door. Once his lower half was sufficiently stripped, it was easy enough for him to rip the sides of your underwear off.

“Katsu-“

“Shut up.”

Not wanting to disagree; you did. Hips bucking against nothing as the cool air prickled at your hot cunt. Bakugou held his manhood in his hand, rubbing the head of it in your slick and providing stimulation to your clit. Your thighs tightening around his waist like a vice grip at the well needed attention.

“You’re fuckin’ soaking baby. So needy.” Bakugou mumbled against your neck, allowing himself and you to get off momentarily at the friction. You could only nod to his words which were making you more and more wet for him. He was such a tease.

“Come on princess. Tell me you want my cock. Tell me.” His voice growled as he repeated himself, leaving marks upon your nape that would surely bruise because of his harsh bites and sucklings.

“Katsuki I need you- only you. Only you.” Your repetition is barely a whisper but he heard it, and despite his rough nature Bakugou confines your lips in a kiss as he sheaths himself inside of you.

Taking a few slow thrusts to allow yourself to adapt to his size, it’s only a moment before Bakugou completely bottoms out inside of you. He watches your face shiver in pleasure which he mirrors. He clasps your hips so firmly his knuckles turn white; it didn’t even hurt as all you could focus on was him inside you. Your hands find their way to his biceps, gripping on for some tension relief and you could still feel his muscles flex even beneath his suede blazer and the shirt.

“What a good fuckin’ girl, taking my cock like this.” Bakugou’s voice is a low growl as he thrusts into you, the sounds of your clothes brushing against one another and the slaps of your skin interacting was like a sinful symphony.

The smell of caramel danced in your brain as Bakugou worked up a sweat absolutely pummeling himself into your sex. You grasped onto him as if your life depended on it, moaning into his neck as his cock slid in and out of you. You didn’t even know how much time was passing as he rutted himself into you relentlessly- yet as you both came to your highs, you could both barely move from the thrill of it all.

Steadying your breaths back to a regular pace; Bakugou slid you down from where he had pinned you against the door and let you fix yourself as he then did himself. You sorted your dress and pulled any tugs from your hair when he had pulled it before slapping Bakugou’s arm.

“You dick! You ripped my underwear!”

“Hot.” He chuckled, fixing his belt loops and stuffing the ripped panties into his pocket.

“Not funny! I’m not parading about with no underwear on!”

“We’re getting the fuck out of this extras stupid wedding. You can wear my clothes at my place.” Suitably sorted and not looking like you had just had the brains fucked out of you in a closet (despite the reddening bites and bruises that were now appearing on your neck), Bakugou held you close. Yet instead of taking the corridor to the exit, he was leading you back to the main dance hall.

“Where’re we going?” You hashly whispered to Bakugou, your thighs still wet from your slick and the cool air against your unclothed pussy making you heat up from embarrassment.

“Gots to do one thing before we go.” There’s a shit eating grin on his face, you couldn't help but wonder what on earth he was planning now.

Midoriya stood talking to other heroes all dressed in their formal attire and Bakugou (with no consideration of their conversation) roughly tapped his shoulder to get his immediate attention. His arm around your waist was so tight but being see with Bakugou like this made you feel almost proud.

“We’re just heading off.” Bakugou had replaced his smile for his usual scowl, something he had always looked at Izuku with.

“Going so soon? It’ll be a shame you guys!” Izuku’s voice was plastered in falsehood. He probably regretted trying to gloat over you two. Bakugou held out his hand for Midoriya to shake it, your brows furrowed on what was obviously a stepping stone to Bakugou’s plan.

“I know I might not be better at you right now in the hero charts.”

Uh oh.

“I’m glad you’ve finally come to recognise that Kaccha-“

“But I am better at you at something for sure.”

Bakugou used Midoriya’s hand in his to pull him closer, readying himself to whisper in his ear.

“Cause I just fucked the shit out of your ex-girlfriend and I know you never made her come as hard as I did.”

Your face burned with the heat of a million suns, but the glower on Izuku’s face was priceless. And you couldn’t help but see the flash of a camera capture the moment as Bakugou’s hand fell from his and slipped once again around your waist.

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weirdmageddon · 4 years ago

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five years too late let’s analyze this. the commentary has gotten me back into gravity falls reigniting thoughts and insights i came to years ago

i love everything about this commentary in general it hits the points of humor, genuine analysis of the characters, but most of all im so glad hirsch addressed that the droid not detecting any fear from dipper here doesnt make any scientific sense because that was a massive CinemaSins moment for me

IDK the fact that dipper can fucking stand after an airship crash because theres a bigger threat at hand is literally one of the defining capabilities owed to adrenaline lol...... IM SORRY im a biopsychology student if i dont point that out iwill seethe and die because that was just . its a grudge ive held for a long time about this episode but didnt rant about because it was something so minor and i’m sure nobody would care.

i was 13 when this episode came out and i’m almost 19 now, i had a special interest in biology and i still do but now i’m actually having college classes in biopsychology so i can give my arguments more oomph now. and i have to say, now that i know more about the brain and autonomic nervous system the more this scene bugs me, if that was even possible. and it says a lot of dipper and ford’s relationship.

if dipper clearly wasnt calm before, why would he be now just because he’s put up an outwardly confident facade? before he was in the flight but now hes in the fight. my boy just rode on top of a spaceship by nothing but a magnet gun that could detach at any time if it failed and then the ship crashed, he sustained injuries, is in emotional turmoil because he thinks his uncle is Fucking Dead and the threat of a security droid that detects adrenaline is on his tail and produces a Big Fucking Gun in response to dipper saying “i hAvE a MaGNeT gUn” and hes screaming and has his teeth clenched but sure there’s no adrenaline coursing through his body in that moment i can totally believe that

when dipper asks what happened, ford says “the orb didn’t detect any chemical signs of fear, it assumed the threat was neutralized and self-disassembled” but i don’t think measuring someone’s heartbeat alone is particularly relevant in detecting ... chemical signs of fear?? they dont really tell you this shit but noradrenaline (and maybe adrenaline too if the acetylcholine from sympathetic outflow always activates the adrenal medulla??, theres two pathways) is always active in small quantities to make sure your parasympathetic nervous system doesnt slow your heart to dangerous levels on its own, regardless of your emotions. it’s just a homeostatic mechanism. your sympathetic and parasympathetic nervous systems are CONSTANTLY modulating control of your organs on a see-saw, literally with every breath you take. simply standing upright causes specialized mechanoreceptor neurons in blood vessels to signal your brain to project signals to release catecholamines via the sympathetic nervous system to constrict your blood vessels so that blood is able to reach your brain and not pool in your legs. i have a deficiency in my body’s ability to adapt to this which is why i know so much about it. if i stand up my heart races to compensate. i’m not feeling fear, my body is just adjusting—albeit grossly and incompetently lol.

but what im saying here is that the security system is flawed. it’s a cool idea to have security droids detect fear, but in practice by detecting adrenaline, and not even directly by detecting the molecule itself—it’s done in a roundabout way by reading the heartbeat, could be a recipe for false alarms. like what if someone’s on beta-blockers. that’s not really an adequate way to measure “fear”; there’s so many variables that could interfere with the measurement the farther you abstract from what you’re really trying to detect. and besides, adrenaline is NOT just a sign of fear, it’s just for preparing the body for action. i know the sympathetic nervous system and adrenaline is constantly linked with the “fight-or-flight” reaponse to a stressor, but 99.9% of the time the sympathetic nervous system is used in your life is to balance out your parasympathetic nervous system to maintain homeostatic equilibrium for mundane things.

i think detecting amygdalar activation would be more efficient in detecting fear. the amygdala sends projections to the hypothalamus which then in turn modulates the autonomic nervous systems. but the amygdala is intensely activated specifically in response to a fear-inducing stimulus (it does activate in response to other emotions but they’re mostly negative and is most activated by startle and fear), and wouldnt be highly activated by many other confounding variables like measurement of the heartbeat could be. the amygala is one of the first stops directly from external stimuli.

to show you how integrated the amygdala is as the first step in registering fear after receiving input from sensory stimuli let’s look at the auditory-amygdala connection for example

see how the auditory thalamus projects to the primary auditory cortex and auditory association cortex? the cortex is where conscious awareness of what the stimuli is comes from. this is the “high road”. it goes sensing -> perception -> emotional response. but sometimes you can be startled without even processing what it is you’re sensing, like the startle response of an alarm or a phone ringing in a quiet house before you even register what it is. this goes sensing -> emotional response, without perception happening until after you’ve already felt the startle. that’s when it takes the “low road”. here’s a simplified version:

even if that were the case with these droids though it’s obvious dipper is still fearful on some level here. his body language, voice, expressions all give it away. for the amygdala, aggression isnt too off from fear so it would be detected equally.

the reason this is so important is because ford uses this as evidence for why dipper is special, “i did it?” “you did it. this is what i was talking about, how many 12 year olds do you think are capable of doing what you’ve just done?”

but like....did he really? i’m not saying this to shoot dipper down or make him out to be more of a wuss, he was incredibly strong-willed here and i dont want to take that away from him because it WAS growth on his part. but the underlying psychophysiological reactions of aggression and fear shouldn’t be that different and this was a total asspull. maybe the droid was so old that it fucked up. maybe dipper being covered in grime and dirt made it harder for the droid to measure the correct heart rate through photoplethysmography (im assuming since they use a camera and are non-contact).

and in all honesty everything i just said brings into question the interpersonal healthiness of ford’s judgements, what he thinks, his expectations, and how he communicates that. in this video alex already talks about how ford is projecting onto dipper. and i think ford may be projecting his expectations for himself onto people who are not him, and the fact that it’s on dipper here makes it far more unfortunate. you realize how much this boy idolizes ford, right? how much impressions matter? dipper even tells himself before he leaves in this same episode, “all right dipper, this is your first big mission with great uncle ford. don’t mess this up.”

even though it’s unstated, the implicit message dipper is perceiving from ford based on their dynamic is: “do you have what it takes for me to be proud of you?” and to accomplish this he must be like ford, even though he’s clearly not and he knows this. he says “i don’t think have what it takes. i was tricked by bill, i was wrong about stan’s portal, heck, i can’t even operate this magnet gun right.” then, by simple chance without even knowing what he did, he activates the magnet gun and pulls out the adhesive, which immediately takes the focus away from what dipper was telling ford about his feelings of inadequacy to ford saying, “yes! dipper, you found the adhesive!”

these thoughts of dipper’s hang in the air without resolve or comment from ford. we don’t know what ford would have said. but it then becomes painfully self-evident in the scene immediately after when the droids emerge and ford tells dipper, “they’re security droids and they detect adrenaline. you simply have to not feel any fear and they won’t see you”, to which dipper replies with an exasperated (and rightful) “WHAT?”

dipper goes in a panic trying to indirectly tell his uncle that this isn’t something he can do. and he is completely right and valid to be freaked out by that full stop. that IS crazy. you can’t control your fear. you can control how you interpret that fear in your higher brain regions but the physiological changes will stick around for longer than it takes to cognitively calm down. it’s easy for me to detach from my emotions to analyze them, but being able to do this does not come naturally for everyone. even i have an irrational fear of wasps and i can’t control it by detaching myself, my body is just automatically primed to get the fuck out of there. i know it’s stupid and i know it’s irrational and isn’t helpful to get myself worked up but i literally can’t stop how my body reacts no matter how i cognitively think about it. expecting composure from dipper in a situation like this when he’s being made to consciously be aware of his anxiety is absolutely fucking insane. look what you did, placing these cruel expectations on him, now he’s afraid of being afraid! this isn’t a case where two wrongs cancel out, they just stack on top of each other.

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there’s a good reason these scenes were put side by side but it seems up until now it had remained unanalyzed.

what dipper fears from ford is disappointment. not living up to his uncle’s (quite frankly badly placed) expectations for a twelve year old with anxiety. not once did ford say or subliminally communicate “i don’t expect you to be able to do what i can since you are not as experienced as i am and that’s perfectly okay, no judgements”. you don’t put a child on bike before training wheels. you don’t throw a kid into a swimming pool without giving them swimming lessons. the way ford is doing it, there’s no room for trial and error or mistakes that are an opportunity to grow and learn; instead, it’s life or death. he only seems to pride dipper on what he can do while ignoring the underlying struggles that plague him and never making it known it’s okay for dipper to fail in front of his hero and that he won’t think anything less of him for it.

and that’s why i found the ending scene for dipper and ford’s adventure in this episode to feel so.. wrong. on a scientific and social level. because by the sound of it ford focused more on what dipper had done to dismantle the droid (the droid not detecting any fear) instead of how dipper displayed love and protection for him even if he was truly afraid. what if the science was accurate and the droid detected adrenaline while dipper was confidently standing up for his uncle. would ford still be proud of him regardless?

#can you tell how i’m similar to ford but also so different like i said in that other post lol #gravity falls #analysis #dipper pines #stanford pines #long post #gf #gravity falls meta

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