#no facial hair for meee sob

[daisygyuu]

THE NEW ALBUM IS SO FREAKING GOOD

THE WAY ALL OF THEM SHONE SO WELL IN THE MV!?!?! BEOMGYU GOT LINES!!!! I do wish Soobin could have had more 😢 his vocals (all of them actually) are just ANGELIC

THE CLIP WHERE SOOBIN AND HYUKA ARE DANCING TOGETHER?!?!? GLASSES SOOBIN NEEDED MORE SCREENTIME. AND THE THUMBNAIL?!??!? DEAD. I'M DECEASED. SOOBIN K-DRAMA WHEN?!?! IT'S NOT A WANT. IT'S A NEED.

HYUKA WORKING OUT?!?!? I WANT HIM TO LOOK AT ME THE WAY HE WAS LOOKING AT THOSE LADYBUGS. TERRY'S VOCALS *AND* HAIR?!?!?! THAT MAN IS JUST GORGEOUS IN EVERY WAY. "JUST LIKE YOU GAVE ME LIFE, I WILL GIVE YOU LAUGHTER" I'M SOBBING

YEONJUN'S RED HAIR IS STILL DESTROYING MEEE. FIRST WITH GGUM, AND NOW THIS. HIS DANCING SERVED AS ALWAYS. THAT'S MY BIAS, Y'ALL <333

Beomgyu ALWAYS gets me with his facial expressions. HIS SOLO SCENES?!??! HE LOOKS SOOOOO GOOD EIFKGNWUGEWTF HE HAS BEEN BIAS WRECKING ME TOO MUCH OVER THE PAST COUPLE OF MONTHS I CANNOTTT

I want to marry Heaven and Higher than Heaven. Heaven's sound is just SO TXT, and Higher than Heaven is just *chefs kiss*

Don't forget to vote for TXT on Mnet, they deserve it so much with all of the work that have done this year. I really hope they get to have a nice, long break really really soon 🙁

STREAM OVER THE MOON <333

[kellbellsparkles]

A New Leaf (Part 1)

(My first ever Bungo Stray Dogs Fanfiction. I’m writing and publishing in parts to keep me motivated and to take breaks as it takes me hours to write as much as you’re about to read)

One doesn't have to forgive someone who's horribly wronged them. However, what if the person in question was genuinely sorry for what they had done? Do they deserve to be scorned? Unloved? Have death wished upon them?

It was a quiet afternoon for the Armed Detective Agency. There were no cases that required their immediate attention. Atsushi Nakajima and Osamu Dazai were able to spend their lunch break in the Uzumaki Cafe without a care and could talk freely.

“This is really nice,” Atsushi said. “I think this is the first time where we don't have to talk excessively about work.”

“We can talk about how your 'responsible' friend is going to get a life insurance policy to cover his tabs.”

The smiley waitress appeared behind Dazai suddenly, equally startling the two patrons.

“Oh my goodness!” Dazai exclaimed. “Do you have a silent stealthy special ability we don't know about and can be an asset for the agency?”

“It can be deadly, too,” the waitress said with a pleasant passive aggressive tone. “In fact, I'd like to borrow your little book of death to give me some ideas.”

Dazai gasped theatrically.

“Does this mean that you'll do a double suicide with me??”

“In your dreams.”

“But they're only dreams!” Dazai seemingly wailed. “I wake back up to the harsh reality I'm lonely and still alive every grueling day!”

“Would you like your coffee black then?” the waitress beamed. “Like your soul?”

Atsushi's mouth hung open. He could hear a fiery switch go off in Dazai's enigma of a mind. Or so he thought.

“That sounds lovely,” Dazai said with his unchanging, goofy face.

“Th-The usual for me,” Atsushi uttered not wanting to trouble the waitress with making a separate trip.

“Coming right up,” the waitress sang. As she whistled away towards her colleague, Lucy, Atsushi stared at his partner and mentor with great curiosity. He admired him and looked to him for strength during his times of weakness. However, Dazai's finicky and unpredictable persona exuberated a thick, foggy atmosphere.

“So uh--”

“My day's been fantastic!” Dazai cheered, turning to him with the notorious twinkle in his eye. “How about yours?”

“A-Alright I guess,” Atsushi instinctively answered. “But--”

Dazai's facial expression flipped to one with exasperated worry.

“Is anything troubling the dear kitten?” he asked.

“Uh….” Atsushi shuffled in his seat, completely confused. “No?”

“Are you suuuuuure? That sounded like hesitatiiiiiion.”

“W-Well…. The thing is….” Atsushi took a deep breath to collect his thoughts and say them out loud. “How come you never pay your tabs, Dazai?”

“A very good question, Atsushi,” Dazai chirped, his face switching on to glee mode. “I am very financially savvy and choose to invest my money in more important matters.”

“But this cafe is in the same building as the agency,” Atsushi retorted. “And they're so good to us and we bring about good business to one another. Isn't that an important matter?”

“I don't recall them having any crab cakes available, do you?”

“No, but--”

“The sweet, fluffy delicacy is what's truly worthy of every yen in my wallet.” Dazai thrust his arms into the air. “Ah, my crabby patties! They almost make me want to reconsider the whole suicide thing!”

Atsushi lights up with a hopeful smile.

“Really?”

Dazai slams his hands on the table.

“ALMOST!!” he hollers sternly. He wags his finger at his young subordinate. “Your deduction skills still need some work, kitten.”

“I see,” Atsushi said, shrinking in his seat.

The waitress returns with their drinks and a slip of paper, grinning ear to ear.

“Here you are,” she said as she placed them on the table. Dazai gives a quick peek at the slip of paper: a doodle of a grumpy crab cake with the caption “Not paying makes me a bad crab cake”.

“Cute consolation,” he giggled. “But you're going to have to do better than that,”

“Read the back,” she instructed before trotting off to her work station. Dazai curiously flips it over: a message that reads, “Pay 536,630 yen or else see front of the note”.

“WHAT????” Atsushi hollered, his hairs standing on end. “YOU OWE THEM 536,630 YEN???”

“HMMMMMMMMM,” Dazai hummed humorously. “She sure drives a hard bargain.”

“YOU THINK??”

“Atsushiiiiiiiii,” Dazai sang. “You think you could split the bill with meee? You have enough savings in your name by now, riiight?”

“No!! I'm still recovering from when I took Kyoka out on that day trip!!”

“Pretty pleeeeeease? Be a good kittyyyyy.”

“You've been with the agency longer than I have! How you could possibly be in this kind of situation makes absolutely no—”

He stopped when he saw a school girl approach the counter where Lucy was stationed. She had shoulder length black hair, wore a pink headband, black school top with orange lining, a pink collar bow and school skirt, and had very bright green eyes. Everything around him faded into a muffled silence.

“Absolutely no what, Atsushi?” Dazai said. He waved his hand over his still face. “Atsushiiii?”

His eyes burned with an angry focus and his pupils retracted, the tiger within him badly wanting to emerge and strike. He was taken back to his days in the orphanage. He was grabbed and pinned down by a couple of residents while a sizable audience looked on with those sneers and laughs that haunted him day and night. A little girl approached him with a pair of scissors. She grinned maliciously and struck fear into his soul with those bright, distinctive green eyes. Midori Hatarashi was her name. She told him she wanted to be a hair stylist when she grew up and she'd be his first patient. That wasn't her only crime; she was a leading antagonist who bragged to him every day that no one would ever want or love him.

“You!” present Atsushi snarled.

Midori turned around in a fright. Her eyes widened as she immediately recognized him.

“Is that you, Atsushi?” she asked with a soft tone.

Atsushi rose from his seat suddenly.

“Why are you here?” He snapped. Dazai pulled back a little in surprise at his sudden ferocity.

“I was just wanted to try Uzumaki's coffee,” she said shakily. “I've never been here before.”

“Liar!” Atsushi hollered. “I'm not about to let you walk in here and fool everyone!”

Midori backed into the counter like a fearful mouse with nowhere to run.

“I--” she stammered. “I know I wasn't kind to you before….” She hung her head. “No, I was terrible…. Inhuman even…. I promised myself if there was a slim chance I'd ever see you again…. I'd say I'm sorry for everything. Truly.”

Atsushi said nothing and stood still for a moment. Then, he walked up to her, never taking her eyes off her. He towered over her mere inches away.

“Do you really think anything you say or do will make me forgive you?” he said scornfully.

“No!” Midori said fearfully as she desperately attempted to back further into the counter, but her back was already flat against it. “Of course I don't…. How could you, right?”

“If you know that, then why are you even here?”

Tears formed in Midori's eyes; she had no words.

“Do you have any idea what I've went through and how badly I suffered because of you?” Atsushi growled, steadily raising his voice. “How it affects me to this very day? I'd be delighted if you left right now and I never saw you again. Yeah! You can leave my town and drop dead in a ditch somewhere!”

For a moment, Midori couldn't breathe. She had expected to be met with anger, but her heart couldn't brace itself against the beastly hatred he was emitting. She looked away and pushed past him, tearfully running out into the busy streets. When he was sure he could no longer see her, Atsushi relaxed his shoulders and took a deep breath.

“Atsushi….”

Lucy was staring sternly at him; as the barista tending to the cash register, she witnessed and heard everything loud and clear.

“Oh,” Atsushi said sheepishly. “Sorry about that. I'm alright now. Finally….”

“What was that?”

“Just an old adversary that's been goading me for years.”

“No, I mean…. What was that?” Lucy's words were coated with disappointment.

“What are you talking about?” Atsushi said with a stumped and confused expression. “You weren't there.”

“I was here, Atsushi,” Lucy said. “And that girl. You said it was years ago. She had the courage to apologize to your face.”

“You don't know her,” Atsushi said defensively. “And I don't have to forgive her. Right, Dazai?”

Dazai sipped his drink calmly with his eyes closed. He set it down gently and stood up.

“I think I'm ready to head back to work,” he said quietly. He stood up and began to make his way to the stairs leading to the agency office, walking right past Atsushi.

“Dazai!” Atsushi called out. “Wait!”

The clown of the agency didn't stop, though. Atsushi gave chase.

“You understand, don't you?” he pleaded. “She deserved it!”

Dazai came to a halt. He opened his eyes finally and looked Atsushi directly in the eye. His goofy facade had vanished. In its place was a steel, stone cold expression that sent chills down Atsushi's spine.

“What exactly did you say to her?” he asked with a low, serious tone.

“D-Dazai?”

“Tell me what you said to her.”

Atsushi yelped. He couldn't tell whether or not he was being scolded by the man who ever rarely did such a thing.

“I told her exactly how I felt,” he said. “It's what I've always wanted to say to her…. And everyone else.”

“Including the bit after that?”

“What bit?”

Dazai sighed heavily, bowing his head.

“Do I really need to spell it out for you, detective?”

Atsushi crossed his arms and pondered, squinting his eyes shut as he thought really hard. What could he have said that was such a big deal all of a sudden? His face softened as he came to a conclusion.

“The part about the ditch? …..”

However, as he opened his eyes, Dazai had already gone up the flight of stairs. Behind him, a little boy was sniveling and sobbing. His mother was covering his ears and holding him tight. Lucy, the waitress, and the owner of the cafe were staring with disheartened eyes. Through the windows, some passerbys had caught wind of the commotion and were peering inside to see what was going on. The weretiger had been on the brink of death, seen crime scenes, watched people fight with their special abilities, been shot at, and had seen people get hurt and die. Although, none of that carried the throbbing, anchoring weight to pull him under like the moment eyes laid on him and saw him as a monster.

[andavs]

Miss Congeniality is on tv and im thinking is there a sterek au out there?? Stiles, the new FBI agent, who does things instinctively and is quirky and weird vs no-nonsense Derek the FBI agent who believes in procedure and protocols. Stiles has to go undercover at a pageant/some sort of competition with Derek as his handler. Reveals how good and competent he is at saving the real winner Scott ala Cheryl/Rhode Island. And Stiles singing to Derek "you think I'm gorgeous...you want to kiiiiiss meee.

Real talk, I’m kind of tipsy so this might be a little disjointed, but ooh, I really love the idea of like, basement dweller analyst Stiles, who is objectively a complete fucking wreck. He’s not creepy and he knows how to function as a human being, but he just gets so wrapped up in his work that he maybe forgets to do laundry for two months, and he eats like a broke college student, and maybe steamrolls over a lot of social cues because he has vital information that people need to know right now.

I don’t even know what competition it would be in this AU. My instinct is to say like, America’s Next Top Male Model, but obviously Derek would be the top pick for that. Unless they tried to get Derek into this competition, but he was so awkward and uncomfortable in that situation that his face just shut down and all of the judges scooted back a bit while he glared at them in dead silence.

Sooooo, plan B. Which fails, because Agent Lahey is attractive but he doesn’t photograph well. He kills it on the runway though and somehow came out with five modeling agencies trying to lure him into a contract.

Plan C: Agent Boyd, who straight up refused to get involved, because he works organized crime and are you seriously bothering him with this shit? Get out.

Plans D - L also all fail for a variety of reasons, and at this point they’ve got Agents Argent and Yukimura scouring the building, ducking into every office and taking pictures of very confused office workers who generally don’t see daylight during office hours. They’re desperate, okay? Both male and female competitions across the country have been targeted, all with the same MO, and they have evidence suggesting this ANTMM is next. Four people have died already, they need to catch this guy.

Which is how they end up in the windowless basement of analysts in their cubicles, and after striking out with all of them, about to head back upstairs in defeat, they run into Stiles. 

He’s just leaving the dinky kitchen, eating microwave instant ramen with two pens for chopsticks, he has a yellow stain on his wrinkled button up from the broth, and his hair is a greasy mess because he’s been at the office for the last 36 hours trying to finish his last assignment. He’s not technically supposed to spend that much time there, but if he hides in a specific corner of the supply closet, the custodians and security guards don’t see him and he can sneak back to his desk by 1am.

He’s a mess, his eyes are bloodshot, and he has the darkest circles under his eyes, but he’s got nice cheekbones and pretty eyes (aside from the red), so they grab him by the collar and drag him back upstairs.

Derek is less than impressed, refuses initially, but Allison swears she knows someone who can whip Stilinski into shape in record time. Allison doesn’t make empty promises.

Stiles slurps his ramen. The stain on his shirt has grown from being yanked around the office.

*

Lydia does whip him into shape, ruthlessly, and Stiles doesn’t even deny crying about it because she completely killed the rugged stubble he was coaxing to fruition on his jaw. They forced eye drops into his eye balls, which he never wants to feel ever again, and gave him a facial that left his entire face and neck bright pink (”It’s supposed to do that, it’s exfoliation, your skin is a tragedy,” Lydia said with disdain), and he’s pretty sure that this would be considered assault under any other circumstance.

He’s on a strict juice cleanse, they plucked his eyebrows, and the things they did to his junk for “the swimsuit portion” is definitely assault, which he will be reporting to the higher ups the next time he can get to a phone.

“You need to stop staring at screens,” Lydia orders him, swiping every phone and computer away the second he gets his hands on them. “You’re getting premature neck wrinkles and you squint too much.”

Stiles wants to cry.

Derek wants to die the first time he sees their creepy gremlin analyst in a fitted suit with his hair done correctly and his face properly moisturized. Cue the shit, he’s hot montage of slow motion walking across the tarmac, until Stiles trips on some cables that have already been taped down.

“We’re lucky he plays baseball occasionally,” Lydia says once they’re on the plane to the competition. “Not even I can give him muscle definition that fast, but we can work some magic with a spray tan.”

Derek silently thinks it would be a crime to spray tan Stiles and looks out the window at the cities passing by below.

“I just want some fries,” Stiles sobs, sprawled across three seats like he’s about to feint from starvation. Lydia hands him a green smoothie and he glares.

*

I love the idea of Scott being Cheryl. Super nice and welcoming, doesn’t raise eyebrows at Stiles’…less than attractive habits, even helps cover for them, and they quickly become friends. Derek isn’t jealous. At all.

Scott’s finished his undergrad, he’s been working to save money, and he’s trying to figure out how to pay for the vet program he got into–preferably taking out minimal loans. And this competition just so happens to have a pretty massive cash payout at the end. Three hours after meeting, Stiles has silently sworn to do everything in his power to make sure Scott leaves with that money.

Scott has silently sworn to do everything in his power to make sure Stiles doesn’t make a total ass out of himself on national television. He’s…kind of succeeding. He had a moment of self-doubt when he asked what Stiles’ talent portion would be and got a blank stare in return.

Then we get lots of sneaking around! Stiles all over the place, lowkey thinking and acting like he’s James Bond, whispering stupid things into his earpiece like the fox has entered the henhouse, while Derek rolls his eyes back in their base of operations. And look, he’s ridiculous, but he also analyzes shit for a living, and combined with what he’s learned from his dad, he nails it.

I don’t know where the “you want to kiiiiss me” scene would go, but Derek leaning in like he’s going to kiss Stiles and then deadpan snarky eating a candy bar that Stiles is strictly forbidden from eating? That is perfect on literally every level and totally something he would do. He’s such a little shit and kind of emotionally stunted; he would flirt like a kindergartner who doesn’t understand how to express his feelings. And also Stiles is a pain in the fucking ass and deserves it for the way he…molests the straws in his stupid green smoothies every day. It’s sexual and wrong, and Derek can’t be blamed for needing to leave the room.

And look, we’ve gotta bring Scott in on the secret like halfway through. Stiles is a mess on every level, he doesn’t know the most basic things about the competition…it’s not convincing. Scott had to physically stop him from putting way too much gel in his hair–like, way too much. If it weren’t for Scott and Lydia teaming up, Stiles would’ve been disqualified immediately for trying to pair that jacket and those socks.

Whatever the threat is, obviously they stop it and catch the guy, probably the twins or Deucalion or something–the usual suspects. There’s life-threatening stunts and bomb defusing, and Stiles and Derek are taking out one twin backstage while Scott punches the other on national TV and wrestles the remote detonator away from him. At first everyone’s all, “Scott McCall has snapped! He’ll kill for the win!” but then Deucalion or whoever sets off the second bomb, and Scott’s right in the crowd getting people to safety!

And whatever the original verdict from the judges, they change their mind, because for all that every contestant talked about world peace and doing everything they could to help others, Scott was the only one who did that. It’s an easy win, really, and he gets more than enough for veterinary school, and he fucking rocks at it.

Backstage, Derek and Stiles take down their bad guys like the perfect team they are, and then probably do that stupid action movie thing where they take the time to kiss while a building is on fire around them? Just a real quick one, and then they resume again outside at a safe distance from the building. And then they both cash in their sick days (because they’re both workaholics who haven’t taken one in like five years) and spend a week together eating junk and ignoring their phones and having a grand ole time. In bed.