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docholligay · 4 years ago

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Requiem for the Grand Consummation

Angstober prompt was: Michiru, breakdown 1900 words, and I hope you....uh, enjoy it? In as much as anyone enjoys Angstober?

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. It matters little what you feel.The flame might tear and burn, the steam might hiss, but you are a creature of the coldest sea, and to all appearances, you will only ever be calm and shimmering. She had been trained in all of this since she was a young child, the subtle art of composure.

To compose oneself. She thought of it often, this turn of phrase, this way of putting a smooth coat on the roughness of mortal feelings. One composed a symphony as well, and she could not note that it was too terribly different. The art of taking inelegant bursts of air and furious strokes of string on string, and turning them into something beautiful. Something calming, and erudite, inviting commentary on the art. Perhaps not all people made symphonies of their own emotions, but Michiru Kaioh would note that she was an artist in all things, and perhaps her earliest lesson was in this.

So Michiru Kaioh dressed in her neat couture, and sat straight as she sipped at champagne in the tea lounges of the upper class, and accepted condolences with that same cool, impersonal affect with which it was given. She composed, and the orchestra played on, and no one could have possibly noted that the young widow was anything other than a perfect example of the stiffly pressed perfection and breeding of the upper classes.

A sheet of ice covered the sea, and it shimmered and sparkled and did not waver or buckle as the waves churned beneath it.

But ice can only ever be cold, and be taken as such, whatever may lie beneath, and one can hardly blame those unfamiliar with the sea for seeing little else.

“Oh, like Michiru even fuckin’ cares.” Mina swigged back a beer, despite being in the middle of what was, ostensibly, a senshi meeting, “since when has she ever kept anything from last season, you know?”

Mako shrugged and nodded along with Mina, the two guards, one of them telling the truth, and one lying, and both blocking Michiru from a calm exit of the conversation.

“We need a new Sailor Uranus.” Mako added, though not unkindly.

The gentleness was meant less for Michiru and more for Usagi, who wailed in protest.

“We can’t! We can’t let someone else wear her tiara, because, because--” she let out a sniffle and a small sob, “--they won’t be her!!”

“Indeed,” Michiru added, almost a whisper to herself, “who could be?”

Rei drew her arms around Usagi. “She wouldn’t be, Usagi.” She kissed Usagi’s temple, “But she’ll be a different Sailor Uranus. But she won’t replace Haruka.”

Ami touched Usagi’s arm. “Whoever it is already has been given the power. She’s probably scared, Usagi. We can help her. We can teach her.”

Michiru folded her hands in her lap, and composed herself. Twist the brass into submission. Quell the drums. The strings do not shriek, but sing, in your hands. She softened her eyes and relaxed her face, and her shoulders fell straight and sleek under her silk blouse.

“So we don’t have a choice anyway.” Mina poured the beer down her throat and crunched the can, “We get to her or the enemy does. Sailor Uranus is dead,” a violin string snapped, “long live Sailor Uranus.”

Usagi nodded, sobbing into Rei’s shoulder, and Mako rubbed her on the back as the silence settled in, rain falling in the background as the cool wet air sneaked in the cracks old and new, whispering in small holes in sweaters, aching through slender gaps of clothing.

Michiru rose to her feet, and smoothed her linen skirt.

“Well, then, it seems decided,” She took her purse from the table, “Pluto, I assume you will have little trouble locating this person, given your affinity with the power of the moon. You certainly located us easily enough.” She nodded to Mina. “If there’s no further business, madame chairman.”

“Go on,” she shrugged, “be my fucking guest.”

Michiru did not allow herself to crescendo to Mina’s anger, simply walked to the door where her umbrella sat waiting, the fine leather of her Italian made shoes spattered so lightly with the rain’s cruelties that you would be forgiven for not noticing them. Fine leather blends well.

She opened the door, only for a small, insistent hand to close it in her face. She did not turn her head, for there was no need, only that same discordant note wishing to throw off all symphonies as she herself had been.

“I confess the vagaries of being your guest do somewhat bewilder me.” She shook off her umbrella. “May I help you?”

Mina took her hand away from the door, her eyes never leaving Michiru’s face.

“You’re so hollow inside, I wonder if her scream’s still echoing there, or if you just...absorbed it.” MIna shook her head, and their eyes met, “Did you ever love her?”

“You are a cruel person, at heart, Minako Aino. But I suspect you know that.” She opened the door and her umbrella both, in one fluid motion, “Haruka’s taste was always a bit self-flagellating, wasn’t it? Choosing us.” She stepped out into the rain. “Not all of us are so prone to drunken dramatics.”

“Fucking leave, Michiru.”

“Oh, are we precisely certain I have your leave?”

MIna slapped the door in her face, but Michiru did not justify the cymbal crash with so much as the raise of an eyebrow.

It took her longer than she might have expected to return to that yawning condo in a sparkling building, the rain settling on the windows in a single sheet, beginning to freeze until it weighed to heavy before dramatically cracking and falling to the ground.

Her apartment was the same as it ever had been, neatly appointed, and her girl had left a bottle of champagne and a plate of olives and cheese in the fridge, as requested. They said good help was hard to find, but Michiru did not agree with this assessment. Good help was very easy to find, so long as one’s wallet was sufficiently open.

She popped the bottle with its percussive note, the bubbles rising to the surface of the glass in their high accenting chirps. When had she changed into her robe and gown? She couldn’t remember, but it hardly mattered. It was perfectly acceptable for a woman alone in her apartment to lounge a bit in the evening.

The glasses went down fast, tonight. Mina had not been wrong to say that she was hollow, for no matter how much she drank, Michiru could not fill that deep, dry well inside of her. Or maybe it had always been full, but full only of the sea, bitter and cold, withering everything that drank it.

MIna had been right about another thing. She was cruel and a liar, but she hadn’t lied then. That well inside her heard the screams, and it echoed high above the elegiac symphony of her own heart and soul, far beyond taming. It dulled the song and it slipped under the ice, and it screamed and screamed and screamed.

She staggered to her feet. She was conducting, but the players were beginning to falter, playing their own tunes, Mozart against Tchaikovsky, Salieri coming through the back, a note of Monteverdi, the piano player hammering out Chopin’s softness with an indelicate rage. It was too loud for the small apartment, the clashes and bangs of instruments no longer obeying that leader. What a fool she ever was to believe that she could have brought them to heel with a small stick!

No one had asked the conductor how she tired, how rebellious the woodwinds, how obstinate the percussion, and how difficult it could possibly be to coordinate it all on a bucking sheet of ice. And who could blame them? They had not seen the difficulty, for Michiru never allowed this to be difficult. It was her own perfection that led to this grand revolution, every carefully chosen note deciding its own fate in this moment, in an apartment which once held something killed by cold, a daisy in December.

Michiru flung wide the doorway to that elegant balcony, the lines of song which had been straight and true twisting themselves into the wrought iron, mocking her composition. Her composure. She stared at them, glass still in her hand, and they rocked and moved and then they were the waves of the sea, clashing against that ice as the rain fell around her. It built and built and it broke, for how could it not break when there was so much underneath it. The wind rose and whipped under that sheet of ice, and Michiru felt a great crack inside of her, a crack like an explosion. Oh, that great sea ice broke indeed, and it broke with the great thunder of bass and timpani, and the waves became a song again, and twisted, and the sea again, breaking, and then they were her face, her face twisted most of all in those final moments, and Michiru looked up to the sky and she cried out in the one and only vocal solo of her life, accompanied by the horrible orchestra of her own great creation.

She stopped. Everything stopped. The strings grew still, and the sea ice drifted away, and it all simply stopped.

Haruka called herself the senshi of the wind. It was silly, and it was a lie, but it was a lovely one, and in the years after she had fallen in love, she continued on with it in her teasing way, telling Michiru how the wind whispered she looked beautiful in that dress, or howled over the discontinuation of a candy bar.

But she wasn’t lying, and she wasn’t joking, for Michiru could feel her, caressing her face, kissing her lips, brushing tenderly against her collarbone. Haruka had quieted it. She had always quieted it, for the wind was not the great enemy of the sea, but its partner, was it not? It is only the wind that allows the ocean to guide and to bring the world across it. The wind caresses the sea in love, and those are not waves of horror, but of delight. The screams all sound the same.

Michiru took her glass, and drank deep of it, smiling brightly as she flung it over the side of the balcony, a high, bright note of an angel’s bell below.

She rested a hand on that iron, and felt it lay still and freeze beneath her hand. The ice, returning. So heavy. Impossible to hold on a building like this one. But there was no need, the wind said to her, to hold it at all. Let the sea rage, and let the song die, and I will carry you in the great unwritten song of the wind.

Her robe fluttered like a petal as she slipped a leg over that useless, ugly, arrogant iron. She held her hand out to the wind, the wind that came from the sea and still carried the water inside of it, and with a close of her eyes and the whisper of Haruka’s name, she released that flower into the wind.

When they found her on the car in the misting rain, she was calm and shimmering.

Just as she’d been taught.

#Holligay Angstober

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dungeon-meshi-described · 9 months ago

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[Image description: 20 Images alternating between text and panels from the Dungeon Meshi manga. Image 1: Text: Have you ever gotten everything you ever wanted? No. but I once got very close. What happened? I don't know. Everything disappears. Even dreams.

2: Manga panel: Marcille holds up a box with a wing pattern on it and stares at it, in shock and crying Very early in my life it was too late.

3: Manga: Marcille sits on the Winged Lion's paw, surprised.

4: Text: I suppose I just flew too close to the sun.

5: Manga: Marcille cries as someone tells her, "You run at a different pace than everyone else. From now on, you'll have to watch as others pass before you."

6: Text: "Because you are no longer an angel but a person all alone on two tired feet upon this earth that turns, that wakes terribly young every morning."

7: Manga: Marcille looks up as she walks up some stairs, scared and sweating slightly. She's wrapped in a cloak.

8: Marcille runs up the stairs to a wooden door as the stairs crumble under her.

9: Text: she left this one. I invented a world because death is unknowable and someone I loved was about to live there.

10: Marcille cries and screams, "Everyone gave up on running together with me and got swallowed up by it! Papa! Pipi! And Farlyn, too! Everybody!! That's why I studied magic so hard…"

11: Text: Desire is no light thing.

12: Marcille places her hands on a counter or table with a serious and determined expression. She says, "I want to eliminate the differences in lifespans across all the races."

13: The Winged Lion says, "'All the people in the world', you say… indeed, that isn't the kind of wish that could be fulfilled with a mere half-hearted desire. However, you came to this dungeon filled with the resolution to see it through, correct?" Marcille replies, "Of course!"

14: text: You're addicted to loneliness and desperation. It's the strongest emotion you've ever known, so your subconscious tells you that it's your destiny.

15: Thistle stands on a table. He addressed a surprised Marcille, with the rest of the Touden party behind her. Thistle says, "Half-breeds cannot live their lives in the same flow of time as any other race! A hundred years from now, nobody will be there to sit around a table and share a meal with you! Does that make you terrified? Is that why you desire the dungeon's power? So you can change your fate?" Marcille stares at Thistle, shaking and sweating. She glances to the side, then bends down and cries, "No, you're wr-..!! That's not…!!"

16: Text: Still, there is this terrible desire to be loved. Still, there is this horror at being left behind.

17: Senshi, Chilchuck, and Laios are draped against a wall filled with paintings. Marcille leans on Laios' shoulder. Someone offscreen, presumably a future Marcille, asks, "Did you even stop to think about what it would be like for me to be surrounded by everyone's dead bodies…?"

18: Text: We want to hear someone say, "I give you my heart," meaning, "summer and winter," meaning, "all my time in this world,"

19: Marcille, sweating and shaking, asks, "I just want to live out my life with all of you at my side. In order to do that, is it so wrong for me to wish to keep death at bay?"

20: Text: Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story. End description.]

[Plain text: Doomed from the beginning

Unknown / Marguerite Duras / Blanca Varela / Ramona Ausubel / Anne Carson / Heather Havrilesky / Michael Cunningham / Lisel Mueller / Richard Siken x Dungeon Meshi by Ryoko Kui

End plain text]

Doomed from the beginning

Unknown / Marguerite Duras / Blanca Varela / Ramona Ausubel / Anne Carson / Heather Havrilesky / Michael Cunningham / Lisel Mueller / Richard Siken x Dungeon Meshi by Ryoko Kui

#op please add the description to the original post #with any edits that you think are necessary #in plain text and not under a read more #dungeon meshi spoilers #dungeon meshi #marcille donato #manga #web weaving #the winged lion #thistle

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faelapis · 5 years ago

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y’all wanted to see the diamonds as sailor senshi, so here you go! this was just a little thing i did for fun, the sailor senshi dressup game is very detailed and you can be very Extra(tm) with it.

i went pretty in-depth with my design reasoning, i don’t expect people to read this since it’s just a dressup game but here goes lol:

white: white had to look the most constrained. like it would be uncomfortable to walk around in that outfit. she’s not allowing herself to be anything less than a perfect figurehead. so her dress hugs her tightly yet covers her the most modestly - she’s both a “pure feminine ideal” and somewhat sexualized.

her jewelry feels almost claustrophobic. it clings to her face, her wrists, her neck, and sharp jewels tempt to scrape her shoulders if she tries to move. the way the chain hangs over her face cuts it into four diamonds - like the symbol of homeworld that she is, before she’s a person. her hair is in loose pigtails because i wanted to combine the “feminine ideal” of homeworld with the feminine ideal of sailor moon - which is embodied by usagi herself and queen serenity, who have that hairstyle. her sharp nails are as in the show. the white roses on her wrists symbolizes her puppeteering pink/white pearl, as well as pink & white being opposites the same as blue and yellow. you can also see she combines blue & yellow’s sparkles, while pink rejects those sparkles altogether.

yellow: yellow has the most “structured” outfit - there’s not a single loose element to it (except the cape). even her hair is tightened in a perfectly structured ‘do with no strands astray. the “sharpest-looking” diamond needed the highest heels, embodying the 80s businesswoman chic. her shorts are more of an utena reference, where a girl wearing masculine clothes = hotpants. there’s some problematic elements to the magical girl + shoujo-deconstructing anime of the 90s, which i thought fit well with the problematic ideals of homeworld.

her cape looks white, but it’s actually a very light green (as are her nails, if you look very closely). this is a reference to her most stressed, sickly-looking palette - the one we saw in “message received”. it’s also a stealth-reference to jasper’s cape, and how hers is the court with the most implied upward mobility. if you do well, you can rise in the ranks (to a certain extent). the cape is also a reminder of how she’s the diamond most in-tune & dedicated to her court. her spiked shoulders are, of course, a reference to her iconic shoulderpads.

blue: blue needed to have the loosest outfit - one that seems big enough to swallow her up and drag her down. i decided to give her a nightgown-inspired top because she is, in a way, the drowsiest / “laziest” / detached-from-reality diamond, who neglects her duties and lets her grief and emotions completely submerge her, making yellow pick up the slack.

i decided to make her hair Very big and long for two reasons - one, because it fits into the aforementioned theme of everything about her design “weighing down” on her, and two, because making everyone slightly more Extra felt very with the spirit of sailor moon. this is an aesthetic, after all, that heavily conflated strength, status & evolution with getting more and more elaborate and glammed-out outfits. so that’s why the matriarchs got a bunch of jewelry & tiaras, despite the fact that this would be very out-of-place in SU.

pink: where to even begin!! this is the one where i placed the most character references, i almost don’t wanna spoil them if anyone wants to go looking... but fuck it, you decided to read this far: i wanted her to have the iconic, heroic “sailor moon outfit” because that’s the symbol rose quartz became for the rebellion - the leader who fights for love & justice. she’s barefoot because rose’s shoes, as stated by RS, are impossible to fill. the “poofs” on her legs resemble the poofs of her shoes as pink diamond. the roses on her hips should be obvious, as is the sword, and the star symbol where her gem would be.

on the less obvious side, i decided to deck her out with pearls because pearls are the characters who inspired her character growth. the reference i’m most proud of is probably the colors of her skirt - do you get what it’s supposed to be? it’s the hibiscus flower! it’s darkest pink on the inside, but becomes lighter near the tips. she’s also flipped to face the opposite way of the other diamonds because she decided to “turn against” the system.

she has dark pink-reddish angel wings for several reasons - firstly, because it combines the aesthetics of angels & demons, like how pink herself is intentionally impossible to identify as a perfect hero or villain... secondly, because she’s - well, gone. she, her gem, and her magic sometimes feel like a vague spiritual presence in the show, so i thought it’d be fitting to have a kind of post-steven spiritual rose diamond, hence her background is both the heavens & a sunset, symbolizing the “end” of her life & development.

thanks for reading - i know i mostly do text analysis on this blog... but i’m a big fan of fashion, particularly symbolic fashion that says something about a character, so i wanted to experiment with some dressup designs! <3

#steven universe #dress up games #sailor moon #the diamonds #rose diamond #yellow diamond #white diamond #blue diamond #su fanart #(kinda)

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lightdancer1 · 4 years ago

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Same Prompt Party March-Like a Lion

Hino Rei had never been a normal child, not by anyone’s standards. From the beginning she had looked into fire and seen things. She had seen her mother leaving when she was a very young child, too young to understand the tears or the allegations said against her. She had seen other things, a girl with long pigtails and blonde hair around whom a high doom was built. She had seen the fate that awaited them all, transformed into the immortal avatars of a war against the Great Enemy in the stars. It was a bitter life that Tsukino Usagi had brought them in a way, but it was not the worst of all lives.

She knew that because it had given her a love she’d never anticipated. For all that she had memories, vague and ill-formed, of a relationship with Jadeite in the past, she had clearer ones of Mars and Venus, the cruel and stern warlord of the Senshi and her swaggering moods turning into a surprisingly tender and caring lover in her arms. Mars and Venus were full-grown women of ageless face and longevity that was…..long, if ill-determined in length. Hino Rei was still a girl of sixteen, or she had been.

She was a girl of sixteen, with a long life ahead of her, a very long life if she counted what she became when she took the henshin and spoke those words. Her life had changed from them, she had gone from being Hino Rei, Senator’s daughter, granddaughter of the Miko of one of the most crucial Shinto shrines where the Kami and mortals met in the liminal spaces of the world, to becoming the Senshi of Mars, an immortal being only human by analogy and aspects of appearance.

From seeing the future in fires, she had become an avatar of fire, wielding power named after the planet of War. And that too was subject to misunderstandings. Real war was a thing of chaos that required deep planning, the ability to know in a matter of hours what would need to be done two weeks from where it was done, and the will and the driving force to bring it to pass. She had been named after the God of War, as a Senshi, but people thought of the wrong God. It was not Ares, as the Greeks would have had it, from whom Mars’s Senshi drew their nature. It was Athena, Goddess of Strategy and the cold intellectual sides of war.

And that brought her here. The Outer Senshi had gone to face the new threat that had come here, after all the drama with the Starlights. The real threat, come round at last, revealing herself with the brutal murder of their princess. Uranus had been grief stricken at that sight and had promised Star Fighter that the Outers, the true foe revealed, would offer them vengeance. And then they hadn’t come back.

Now the figure that stood before her and Mina with a detached face and a sword in her hand had strange jewels in a necklace. One had gilded elements but otherwise had a color not unlike that of a kalamata olive (and the implications there made Rei feel nauseous and Mars enraged). There were others, deep violet, bright straw, aqua-green. The being that stood before them looked to her now, with seeming interest and distaste.

“This is not your time to die, Mars.”

Venus looked to her likewise with desperation. Not Aino Minako briefly flashing into Venus’s eyes, the stern and cruel and even vengeful Sailor V, the general who’d ruled by terror in the old days and yet had power in this one to do that if she willed it.

“Mars, please,” she said, and the soft aura of begging briefly brought her short.

The other one just smiled, coldly.

“Ah, I see what this is. I hope the two of you have had the chances to speak of it. When the other ones died….”

And her eyes tracked something that neither of them could quite see.

“They died with their names on their lips. The aqua-haired one died trying to touch the hand of the golden-haired one, crying her real name.”

And then the golden-armored demon’s face was carved in an imitation of grief that was the more horrid for clearly lacking an understanding of the emotion in any truthful sense.

“Haruka, no!”

Venus’s eyes whipped back to her.

“When they die and I gain their Star-Seeds I gain all kinds of knowledge, including that they did not know they had. You thought Uranus weak, once. Her last couple of thoughts were ‘Venus was right’ and then ‘Michiru’. And that aqua-haired one had only one name in her mind, the one I just spoke. I wonder what I’ll see from yours, Guardian Venus?”

The creature laughed, then, and raised her blade.

Mars and Rei were two different people. One lonely and haunted by the future, the other immortal, a living storm of fire who summoned cleansing fires to banish evil and the dark forces that lurked on worlds and within the stars themselves. Galaxia was not precisely a dark force but the evil within her was crueler than Beryl or even Pharaoh 90. Both were united in one thing. They would not see Venus die in front of them, even if the monster had killed others more powerful than the two of them together in raw power.

“You won’t kill her,” she growled, and there was a lioness’s roar in the words.

Galaxia looked at her with disdain. “I have waged war across the Galaxy, child, Worlds break before me. As with the children of Kinmoku, so with the children of Earth. They all died in my opening strike and only you, the Senshi, remain. And one by one I shall hunt you down and slay you all. It is the way of things. The unworthy die, and I, alone, and worthy, live beneath the weight of the infinite stars.”

Galaxia’s smile took a nastier edge, to a point that Rei would have not been surprised to see those teeth become fangs even though technically they had not.

“You have the signs of a seer, girl. All of you see death at the hands of a terrible swift sword. My sword. So then shall it be.”

“No,” growled Mars again, the lioness’s roar more audible. This was the vision she’d seen in the flames, and it was the point where she vowed not to go gently into that good night, and to rage against the dying of the light. The only thing that mattered was to give Mina a chance to flee. Mina was the true general, the true daughter of war. She could not be more than a delay on the terrible visions of a dark and cruel force manipulating this golden angel of light into serving as its own proxy.

That did not matter.

Fires erupted around her, giving her body an eerie glow. Mars and Hino as one, their souls combined, and for a moment, just a moment, she was Eternal Sailor Mars not just in name but in fact.

“You will not touch her,” she snarled, and then fires erupted outward, slamming with bolts of energy into Galaxia’s armor and she summoned her mandala, which grasped the golden witch’s gauntlets and dragged the blades downward.

The creature smiled, then, stark and cold and cruel, and as she snapped her way clean through the fires as if they were nothing she froze when a blow of stupendous strength launched by Mars struck her chin with an uppercut enhanced by her henshin to make it count more solidly. Part of her hoped that Mako would have approved.

And the monster reeled for a moment, staggered.

She turned to Venus, her eyes gleaming with the hallowed fires within her.

“Run, Venus. I love y-“

Motion, gold glinting illuminated by her fires and a wrenching pain, only for her to summon her flames to strike back along the blade, the purity and the purification lancing against the Chaos-threaded nature of the power within the blade, the corrupted desire for domination and proving greatness against others.

Galaxia groaned for a moment in genuine agony and then she stepped back, as Mars gave her an insolent smile.

Even as she began to fade, she told her “I told you would not touch her.”

Galaxia’s eyes were troubled, as if some deep secret were unveiled and then there was a blissful quietness…..before she awoke in a strange place within the walls of reality and without. Her chest hurt, but here she was. And with her, Hotaru , Mamoru (and her eyes suddenly went very wide as she realized the real truth lurking behind that ‘went to America’ line, and what Usagi must have repressed all along), Haruka, and Michiru. And beyond them all, meditating in quietness, Kakyuu.

Mars sighed then, sinking to her knees. The lioness had roared….and she did not know if it would be enough.

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Not long after but far too long for all of them, after the horrors of resurrection in the flesh as a soulless thing and her star-seed watching in horror as the thing that had been her in the flesh had turned on Usagi and at the way that Serenity uncaged dispelled them all with eyes of stark ice as Usagi collapsed and Serenity rose then, and fought the epic duel with Galaxia and then somehow, impossibly, defeated those forces, she was alive again.

Gloriously, blissfully alive.

Her hand held Aino’s, and they were Hino and Aino. Aino’s eyes met hers and there were all those layers and quiet griefs.

“I’m sorry,” Mina began, but she put her finger to her lips.

“No. None of us but Usagi could have done that. All that matters to me is that you got to live, to give that warning.”

Aino’s smile was sad and her hands reached out to caress Rei’s left cheek and her right shoulder.

“My lioness,” she said, acknowledging what she had seen in the desperation of Mars and the way that the Senshi and the human had merged to try to save her.

Those words, the knowledge of what was in them, and the little looks in her eyes led Rei to do a most un-Rei thing and to briefly break, holding her, as both of them let the tears fall that they had not let fall at first when they were resurrected and gloriously, blissfully alive.

It was a warm afternoon in March, both their hands clasped when the tears fell, their bodies close together. The wind, Haruka’s sphere, reached out to ruffle their hair as it did all the Senshi, the wind reminding them that they had been through things together and the old schisms healed in a change between visions of a future that neither wished to think about more.

“In like a lamb, out like a lion,” Mina mused. Normally Rei would have rolled her eyes and corrected Mina’s misspoken use of phrasing, but here there was nothing that meant more than both of them being alive and the feeling of Mina’s body next to hers. They lay on the grass in the park on a blanket together. The long strife was over, and only when the cold came and the hours of destiny called would things change.

Rei let herself smile. The lioness had roared, in the end, and the one she’d wished to save had been safe. Her eyes closed, and she fell into a sleep of warm dreams and the understanding that was there was there, the words unspoken right now, for the actions that had been there had spoken still more loudly.

#minarei #galaxia #sailor stars arc #same prompt party 2021 #hino rei #sailor mars

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terrifying-testicles · 6 years ago

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Sugar Daddy!Bakugou x Reader Ch. 2

All right you heathens, it’s here! I want you all to know that pretty much all of this gets written in my free time at my internship lol. I was asked to tag someone in future updates, so if you want to be tagged in the future just lemme know!

The outfits mentioned in the fic appear in this order: 1 2 3

Words: 5.8k

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Bakugou stares at his laptop screen, a deep frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. It had been a week since his friends had suggested being a sugar daddy. Sero and Kaminari had been making jokes at his expense any chance they got. Between missions and patrols, texting him horribly lewd memes. The last time it had happened, Kaminari had been two floors below Bakugou. He was awfully surprised when the ash blond barged in on him training, strolled straight over to Kaminari’s gym bag, grabbed his phone and looked him dead in the eyes as he blew it apart. Mouth agape, Kaminari was speechless as he watched Bakugou saunter out smugly. Kirishima had the decency to only bring it up when they were hanging out outside of work, and was serious about it. Sometimes he threw a joke around, but he chose his words wisely. Bakugou grumbles as he drags his hands down his face. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been curious about what it would be like to be a sugar daddy. He scoured forums and read accounts from daddies and babies alike, as well as suggestions. The more he considered it, the more he was into the idea. The only problem now was that Bakugou had no clue what to do about his profile. He’d compared different websites used for arrangements, and once he chose one, he went to sign up but…he was unsure. Grey catches his eye, Bakugou turning his head to find dark orange eyes staring back at him. He sighs through his nose and scoots his computer further down his lap. The cat’s eyes light up and he leaps up, settling against Bakugou’s chest. The hero brings his right hand up to scratch between his ears. “Katsuuuuki!” A shrill voice rings out, followed immediately by the slamming of his door. Bakugou groans loudly. Footsteps echo through his apartment before pink fills the doorway to his bedroom. Mina leans against the door frame, hands on either side, reminding Bakugou of a pin-up girl. “How’s my favorite blasty boy?” she asks, grin full of pearly teeth. “Who the fuck gave you a key?” Mina laughs and strolls towards the bed, reaching out to pet his cat. “Senshi, actually.”

The cat purrs loudly in response. That stupid cat adored Mina, always preferring her over any company if she was present. He wouldn’t put it past the ashy feline if the damn thing wasn’t such an idiot most of the time. Mina looks over to the laptop on Bakugou’s knees and gasps loudly. “Is that a sugar daddy site!?” she shrieks. Bakugou sputters and reaches to slam the screen closed but Mina is already snatching it up and jumping over him to land on the bed with a subdued bounce. Senshi leaps off of Bakugou, the Chartreux settling into Mina’s side, purring not unlike that of a boat. Bakugou scoffs at the traitor. “Give that back, freak!” He reaches for his computer but Mina slaps his hand harshly. “I would if this were a joke and it wasn’t you.” The pinkette fixes Bakugou with a sly look. “So, have you made an account, yet?” Bakugou narrows his eyes. “…no.” Mina squeals. “Good! I can help you, then!” “No way!” Bakugou tries once again to take his laptop and is, yet again, smacked away. “Oh, come on,” she whines. “There’s no way you could make a profile that doesn’t come off as scary or too vague.” “Shut up, just give it back.” “No!” Mina brings her legs under her in a crisscross and turns her back to the blond. Senshi yowls in complaint. “I won’t question your decisions, because let’s face it Katsu, you’re hot as fuck and you’re letting it go to waste! I just want you to be successful in your sugar daddy endeavors.” Bakugou had pressed himself against her back, reaching around to grab the laptop, but stops his struggle as Mina finishes talking. He frowns, staring at the Log In or Sign Up page, mulling over her words. Prideful as he is, Bakugou has to admit she’s not wrong. He’s not the most charming person, and he’s not the best at talking about himself in a way that isn’t pure bravado or defensiveness. Mina, on the other hand, is stupidly charismatic and knows her friends to a terrifying degree. Bakugou growls. “Fine, you can help me, but nothing gets posted unless I say so.” Mina whoops and gets to work signing him up. “Hot stuff?” Bakugou asks incredulously. “I’m not going to make you Lord Explosion.” She quips without taking her eyes away from the screen. He just huffs and settles his chin against her shoulder. “I’m guessing you don’t want others to know you’re a pro hero, right?” Mina feels him nod. “Hmm…” Bakugou glances at her, whose brows are drawn in a determined fashion, lips pursed. After a moment she grins and begins typing away, Bakugou barely able to keep up with her wild key strokes. “Hey, don’t make me sound too cocky.” he snaps. Mina rolls her eyes and deletes a few words before rewriting it. “How’s that, then?” Bakugou gives a scrutinizing look, but Mina knows it’s only for show. When he finally nods, Mina tosses the laptop to the side, earning a surprised sound from the man behind her. “Now we need a picture,” she pulls out her phone. “Normally, I’d say only a partial face pic, but it might be easier to recognize you as a hero that way. Plus, you’ve got a killer profile and it’d be a disservice to every prospective baby to hide it.” Bakugou wants to protest, but Mina’s flattery gets her surprisingly far with him at times. This is one of them, so he just puffs out a tired sigh and gestures for her to continue. “To the balcony!”

It’s well past dark when Bakugou finally manages to usher his friend out. Living in the same building as her proved to be a test of his patience on many occasions. Since he got her out, he’s been busying himself with browsing through profiles of women in his area. He’s not sure how to approach anyone on here and suddenly wishes he hadn’t kicked Mina out. Some babies play up the innocence, reminding him of actual adolescent girls, so Bakugou avidly avoids those profiles. Some express their sex appeal loudly, which is definitely not what he’s looking for. He’s getting ready to throw the damn laptop when a familiar face catches his eye. Bakugou clicks on ‘AngelEnergi’ and blanches at the picture. [h/c] ringlets cascading delicately over [s/c] shoulders and exposed collarbone, framing [e/c] eyes and pouty lips. A beautiful sigh, but all Bakugou can see is the mocking face of the woman who took his job into her hands. Bakugou can’t believe his luck, jaw clenching at the embarrassing memory. Her face had been haunting him all week, anger at her actions flaring up at full force and— And what? What could he do? Bakugou isn’t the kind of person to turn her in for unlawful quirk use when she still saved someone. He wasn’t going to message her just to bitch her out, either. In all honesty, he’d been intrigued by her. Loathe as he was to admit it, whatever drove her to act as if a pro hero, while irritating, was still attractive. Not everyone is made to be a hero, but she stepped up, despite the risk she faced. It’s an admirable trait. Bakugou takes a breath to level himself. He scrolls down and looks at her full profile. ‘You can call me Angel, though I may not always be one ;) I’m 23 and work all day in a lab, so from time to time I’d like a little luxury on the side. I’m great conversation and don’t mind being pure arm candy. I’m sweet enough~ My arrangements are preferred to be nonsexual. If you’d like to work something out, just give me a time and place for dinner – has to be somewhere public! – and I will let you know if I’m interested. My available times are below.’ Bakugou glances over the times before opening up her photo album. Beside her profile picture, there’s one of her in a blue, form-fitting evening gown, and another of her in a lingerie set from only the neck down. Bakugou flushes at the last one, quickly clicking out of it. Sure, she’d put the picture up willingly, but he wasn’t one to ogle unless they were face to face. That thought sends the hero into a full force blush that extends down his neck and across the tip of his ears. Senshi pads across the couch and nestles himself against Bakugou’s thigh. Said man scratches the cat’s head with a long sigh. “What do you think?” He glances down at his furry companion, who gives a full-body purr. Bakugou snorts. “Of course you do.”

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You open the bathroom door, steam pouring out into her living room. You step out, towel around your chest and are wrapping another around your hair to set atop your head. You smile at the dog lying on his back in the armchair, snoring loudly. You start to head for your room when your phone dings. Curious, you cross to the coffee table and wake up your phone. The screen lights up with two notifications. You swipe away the game alert, but your thumb hovers over the alert from the dating site. ‘HotStuffZero has sent you a message.’ You raise your eyebrows. It’s been a bit since anyone has messaged you, so you’re somewhat surprised by the late-night contact. You tap the notification and unlock your phone. The message just says, “Friday @ 6” and a link. When you check it, you see it’s an upscale restaurant only a twenty minute train ride from where you live. You tap on the profile and can’t help the way you smile at the handsome face before you. His profile picture is of the man’s side profile, looking out at a presumed skyline, if the cityscape backdrop is anything to go by. His pale blond hair is wild, but his face is stern, all angles. You can’t help but admire the cut of his jaw for a moment. It’s the only picture on his profile so you move on to his bio. ’24, Taurus, feisty. Looking for someone to spoil with gifts and take to events. If you’re seeking out fancy dinner dates, extravagant galas, and no-limit shopping sprees, then let me know. No expectations.’ He’s young, you think. You had yet to meet a sugar daddy on here younger than mid-thirties. It was a pleasant surprise, though the last bit confused you. No expectations? Of me or of him? Either way, you could handle whatever came your way. You returned to your messages and shot off a quick “See you there” before locking your phone and throwing it atop the coffee table. This should be fun.

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Bakugou really wasn’t a fan of upscale restaurants like this. Sure, he could afford it, had more than enough money to enjoy bougie spots and high-end meals, but he surely didn’t have the patience for the pompous pricks sat around him. They’d pay him no mind until he opened his mouth, then suddenly everyone within earshot was aghast, but would listen intently as if filling up their gossip arsenal. An ideal date for him would be set at home where he could cook a meal far better than some high-strung chef. Yet, all that he hates about these upscale places are exactly why he’s here, right? To show that he could afford something to ostentatious, that he was more than capable of spoiling his potential baby with absolute ease. Bakugou frowns, realizing he still doesn’t know her name. He can ask once she shows up, but he hates not knowing more about her beforehand. He likes having eh ball in his court, with every advantage he can manage. He made it here half an hour before their set time, with a seat near the back of the restaurant to give him a perfect view of the door and most of the establishment. He already has a wine picked out, waiting until she gets here to order it. Hell, he even knows that they’ve met before, while as far as she is aware he’s nothing but a stranger. Checking his phone, he sighs. Still fifteen minutes before they’d agreed to meet. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so early. His nerves are high, leg bouncing so badly the table has started a light tremor. It’s just a date, not even with a potential partner, but someone who doesn’t even have to like him, so long as the money is good. Bakugou’s stomach goes sour with that thought.

You shuffle up to the restaurant, anxiety nestled between ribs. The exterior is extravagant, taupe sponged brick and burgundy awnings sprouting forth above arched, stained windows. The doors are a dark oak with bronze in-lays that swirl along the edges. One heavy door is propped open, giving way to an even fancier entrance, the host dressed in a deep red dress, looking all the part of someone who belonged here. So much as you craved a luxurious lifestyle, it was still a foreign concept to you. You hadn’t even made it inside but you already felt like you stood out. You were happy to lounge at home in sweats and a tank top, though pants were optional if you had nothing to do that day. You walk in and take deep breaths through your nose and you approach the host stand. The woman glances up and gives a wide smile. “How may I help you, ma’am?” her tone is sugary, and you’re certain she’s actually genuine, your nerves settling somewhat. “Um, I’m meeting someone.” “Name?” the woman asks, opening up the black leather book on the stand. You bark out a laugh, shifting your weight between feet, and clear your throat. “Actually, I don’t know his name.” The host glances up at you, raising a brow. You bite your lip for a second. You almost make an excuse before wondering why the fuck you care what some host you’ll only meet once draws conclusions about from your dilemma. “He’s blond, spiky hair, very handsome,” you trail off, unsure the hostess would have any cue who you were talking about. “Ah,” the woman leans to the side, glancing around the slatted wall behind her to look across the dining room. She points to the back. “He should be right back there.” You smile and thank the hostess before making your way between tables. You spot him, drinking from a glass of water. He’s wearing a maroon button down, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbow and the top two buttons open. The table cloth hides the rest of him but you’re sure he’s sporting nice shoes; he seems the type. He sets down his glass and suddenly vermilion stares back at you. Heat washes over you in a wave, a shy smile pulling at your lips. When you make it to the table he goes to stand, but you hold up a hand to stop him. “It’s fine.” You pull out the chair and sit, taking a deep breath. “I realized I probably should have asked your name.” you laugh. The man across from you curses under his breath. “Bakugou.” You smile “[L/N].” Bakugou clears his throat. “Uh, you look nice.” You were wearing a silver gown, off the shoulder, a quartz studded belt encircling your waist, the rest of the dress cascading in squared off bunches. Bakugou had caught a glimpse of strappy shoes and a toned thigh peeking through the slit in your dress. He was definitely not prepared to be left breathless by this woman. When they met, you were casual and he wanted nothing more than to tear you a new one. Now, you’re elegant and your smile is mesmerizing. Bakugou doesn’t know what to do about it. “So, um,” your voice brings him back. You had one hand on your glass, fingers tracing the condensation. You look nervous, so different from the defiant fire to your eyes from the previous week, and Bakugou is torn between hating it and loving that it’s probably because of him. “I’m not the kind of baby that asks for money up front, just so you know. I don’t want an allowance or anything like that.” “Right to business, huh?” Bakugou leans forward on his elbows, hands clasped in front of his mouth. You shift in your seat at the intensity of his gaze. You laugh curtly. “Yeah, I just like to get all of that out of the way so it’s less awkward when we get to know each other. I hate having it nag at me the whole time.” You take a sip of your water and glance around the restaurant. You don’t understand why you feel so nervous. Maybe because he’s the youngest sugar daddy you’ve met. Maybe it’s the heavy weight of those piercing eyes. Maybe it’s how unbelievably hot he is. Or is it D, all of the above? You think “So, what are you wanting, then?” You blink at him. “Oh, well. I guess I’m just looking to be pampered.” “Why—” “Good evening,” Both of you look at the server. Bakugou curls his lip, irked by the interruption. You greet him kindly before they are asked what they want. Bakugou orders the bottle of wine he’s been waiting for and turns to his date. “Know what you want?” he asks. You blush and quickly snatch the menu up. “No, I’m sorry.” He’s somewhat satisfied by your flustered state. “No worries. I shall return in a moment with your drinks.” The server leaves as quickly as he appeared. You chuckle nervously. “I should’ve checked first, sorry.” “Stop apologizing.” He snaps. He hadn’t meant for it to come out, but it’s become a reflex at this point after years spent shaking Kirishima out of his self-deprecating mindset. You look surprised for a moment, until a sly smile quirks the corner of your mouth. You are suddenly made aware that your date may be less reserved than you originally thought. “You were saying?” you prompt. Bakugou furrows his brows a moment before remembering what you’re referring to. “I was gonna ask why you don’t just date someone instead.” You purse your lips. He’s definitely bold, not holding his tongue for the sake of being polite. You appreciate it. “Well, I spend a lot of time at work and don’t really want to invest myself in looking for someone and settling down. I can’t risk being held back for a partner, no matter how much my mother hounds me for it.” Bakugou can’t help the smirk that makes its way to his expression. He’s quite similar in his reservations. “What about you?” she asks, eyes trained on the menu as she searches for something that sounds good. “I don’t have time to fuck around when I’m working to be the best.” He notices her quick glance up at the curse word, but she otherwise seems unbothered. “Interesting,” she murmurs, loud enough for him to hear. You are smirking, still reading the menu, not giving any explanation for what you mean. The server steps up to the table, wine bottle in hand. He pours you each a glass and sets the bottle on the table, taking your orders and scurrying off again. You drink from your glass while staring at Bakugou. He quirks a brow at you, one hand fiddling with his silverware while the other lays, palm flat to the table. “What?” You set your glass down but keep fingers wrapped around the stem, stare unwavering. “Have…you seem familiar.” Bakugou grins in an almost feral way. Your eyes narrow. You know that smile from somewhere, teeth bared in a subtly dangerous way. Wild hair and piercing red eyes… You open your mouth to speak, but Bakugou beats you to it. “I feel like I should be offended,” he leans in, smirk widening, and you tense. “After showing me up, playing hero,” At that your [e/c] eyes go wide. “you’d think you’d remember me.” You bush your chair back. “I’m sorry, I just– listen, I—” you start to stand, panic overtaking you, until fingers wrap tightly around your wrist. You heart stops for a second, meeting his stern glare. “Hold the fuck on. I’m not here to get you in trouble, idiot.” Bakugou wants to smack himself. He’s not trying to scare you off but he’d doing a damn good job of it. You hesitate. Slowly, you sit back in your seat, arm still held in a vice grip. “You’re…not? Even though I used my quirk in public like that?” He sighs and lets go of her wrist, leaning back in his chair. “No,” he takes a large drink of his wine before continuing. “When I realized it was you I was tempted, but…” Bakugou purses his lips, unsure of how to continue. “I don’t know. I wanted to see what kind of person pulls that kind of shit. I guess.” You eye him. He seems almost skittish, shoulders tensed up and holy shit you can see the muscles rippling under the button up. “I…so you’re Ground Zero?” her voice is barely above a whisper and Bakugou is thankful for the discretion. He nods. You nod in return, thinking. “I couldn’t help it. I just reacted, I guess.” Bakugou leans forward, prompting you to continue. “I always wanted to be a hero. My quirk is perfect for it, too.” You give a strained smile. “Energy manipulation and absorption. My hair acts as a conductor for me to draw in energy. Electric, kinetic, even drawing it from people if we touch skin-to-skin.” You wiggle your fingers around for emphasis. “I can take it and put that energy into my movements. As long as I move around I can channel it. Put extra power behind punches and jumps. Problem is, overuse leads to nosebleeds, migraines, and most importantly seizures.” You let out a heavy sigh through your nose, scooting your chair closer to the table and leaning forward. You keep your eyes off of Bakugou’s face, not keen on seeing how he reacts. “I had a pretty bad seizure when I was 14 and the doctor said if I pushed it I would be more prone to having them with future quirk use. So, being a hero was no longer an option. I mean, who wants a pro to go down in a fight due to a seizure? Too much risk.” Your voice trails off and you bite your lip. You glance up at Bakugou. His brow is pinched, a hard frown in place. “I didn’t mean to make it awkward—" “Shut up.” Your jaw clacks shut, eyes wide. Bakugou turns his head away with a huff. “It’s fine.” He flicks his eyes to match yours, one hand clenching and unclenching on the table. Bakugou wasn’t expecting that response. He’s only spoken with you for less than twenty minutes but he’s starting to understand that the woman seated across from him will not be anything he expects. It excites him. “What do you do instead?” he asks to change the subject. You light up almost immediately, smile spreading and bunching up your cheeks. Cute, he thinks. “I work in a lab! I’m the supervisor for my lab, actually. It’s a University funded lab, and my team works on experiments and studies related to physics with a little bit of kinesiology thrown in. Since my quirk has a lot to do with kinetic energy, I love conducting studies around it. We share somewhat with a team of chemists, but we generally get along.” Bakugou listens intently as you gush about your work and the seemingly crazy group you work with. Your food arrives and the two fall into a relative quiet as you eat. Bakugou is surprisingly comfortable with the lull in conversation. He’s used to Kirishima, who talks while stuffing his face, which usually turns into a lecture from the ash blond. On to pof that, his ex would get so caught up in talking that she’d let her food get cold. Bakugou finishes off his wine to drown the memory. You are mostly done with your meal when you prop your head in one hand and watch Bakugou. When his gaze lifts to yours, you smile softly. “What made you want to be a hero?” you ask with genuine curiosity behind bright [e/c]. Bakugou could give you an honest answer. He could tell you how he grew up being a big fan of All Might, became inspired by the number one hero to work hard and be even greater. If he were honest, he’d tell you that he still looks up to the former hero and has a faint desire to prove himself to his old teacher. But honesty is vulnerability, and Bakugou may as well have censored the entire concept of vulnerability from his mind entirely. Instead, he gives you a cocky smile and says, “With a quirk like mine, I knew I had to be the best.” You arch a brow, lips pressing together in a thin line. You hum noncommittally and Bakugou can tell you think his answer is bullshit. So used to his friends, he expects to be called out without mercy. For the third time that night you completely throw him for a loop. “Well, you’ve certainly made your way up there. Probably one of the best pros climbing the charts right now.” You know that he knows it’s purely said to sate him, but you bit back a smile when he visibly puffs up, a haughty demeanor taking root that’s near impossible to miss. “I’m not sure I ever imagined that the great Ground Zero would ever seek a sugar baby, much less of me.” You are pouring yourself another glass of wine as you say this. You lift the glass to your lips and lift your eyes to meet his. You’re startled by the sharp gaze that greets you. “If this is gonna happen then there’s gonna be rules,” he starts, tone eerily even. “First rule: don’t fucking sell yourself short. I’m the best and only accept the best, so quit shitting on yourself. I don’t wanna hear that self-deprecating bullshit.” All you can do is nod, throat tight. “Second,” Bakugou lounges back in his chair, not unlike a King who knows the power he holds over his court. You grip your glass tight, eye wide and attentive. He feels something warm swell in his chest at your undivided attention, warmth spindling up behind his sternum and into the dip where his throat meets collarbone. “I don’t want anyone to know I’m a sugar daddy. I don’t care what people think of me, but my PR agent would have my head if rumors like that went around. In public, we’re together, but no one needs details.” “You’re a private person, I take it?” your voice is quiet as you sip at the wine. “If I want someone to know my business, they will. My fans and the press don’t need to know shit about me outside of when I’m kickin’ ass.” He punctuates the sentiment with a deep scowl. You nod, smiling softly. “I agree. I’m not the kind of person to share my life with the world, only what I want them to see of me.” Bakugou grunts. “There’s gonna be events I take you to, public shit with press and all those fucking vultures. They’ll probably ask you about ‘us’ but you don’t gotta answer anything.” He narrows his eyes. “And if you do, watch what you say.” You chuckle. “You don’t need to worry.” Your smile widens, teeth on display and a playful glint in your eyes. “Do I get to call you any pet names?” “Not if you want to keep your tongue.” At that, you bust out in laughter. Patrons seated around you shoot glares your way, though neither seem to care. When you settle down, you tell him, “Noted. Anything else?” Bakugou flexes his jaw in thought. “Not right now but I’ll tell you if I think of anything.” The two fall into another comfortable silence as Bakugou finishes his meal. You observe the people around you, the way they hold an air of superiority about them despite no effort on their part, elegance second nature to them. You had worried that your date would leave you feeling inadequate, making you hyper aware of the role you were playing that felt so unfamiliar. Yet here you were with your favorite hero, feeling free to be as much yourself as the situation allowed. Hell, more so, even. The server comes by to leave the check and take their plates. Bakugou glances over the ticket, then reaches into his back pocket to retrieve his wallet. You expect a credit card, like the dates before him, but instead he pulls out large bills and tosses them onto the table. He stands and quickly moves to pull out your chair. He even goes so far as to offer his arm. You take it with a bashful smile. Once outside, you take a deep breath of the city air. This side of town was quieter, less pollution and traffic. Bakugou pulls away and faces you. “I’ll call you a cab.” “Oh no, I can take the train.” He shoots you a look that says ‘Excuse me?’ so you shut your mouth and look to your feet. The hero takes out his phone and taps away before putting it back in his pocket. “Are you telling me you took a fucking train to get here? In that?” Bakugou gives you a once over, jealously flaring inside his chest at the thought of others eyes you up like this. He’s unsure why he feels so strongly about it, but he’s long past the days of shoving his emotions into a box and wishes he just knew how to make the ugly feeling fuck right off. “Uh, yeah? I don’t have a car.” You shrug. A growl bubbles up from Bakugou’s throat and he takes a step closer to you. You straighten, face now mere inches from his, those vermilion orbs pinning you in place. “From now on, when we meet, I’ll pick you up.” You can only nod, voice gone under his gaze. He nods, stepping out of your space. You take a deep breath now that you feel you are able. “There’s a stupid gala in a week and a half. I’ll give you details later.” Bakugou holds out his hand and for a moment you stare at it, confused. He clears his throat. “I need your phone, dumbass.” You jolt with an “oh!” before pulling it from your purse and handing it to him. “It’s some fundraiser my agency and a couple others are throwing. I don’t remember what for, but heroes and other celebrities are gonna be there.” He hands you back the phone. “Be sure to dress nice. This is your debut.” As he says the last bit, he pulls a wad of cash from his wallet and holds it out to you. You balk, taking a moment to stare before your fingers timidly curl around the paper. “Buy something that’s solid. Even Mina is ditching print.” You have no idea who that is but just nod your head in understanding. He keeps making you feel like words are impossible to conjure. No one has ever made you so speechless. A car pulls up to the curb and Bakugou has the door open and is ushering you in before you even realize. From your seat, you blink up at your date owlishly. He leans on the car door, dim fairy lights casting a warm glow behind him. “And one last thing,” Bakugou leans in, forehead almost pressed to the car’s cool metal lip. His voice drops to a level only you can hear, a purr edging his words. “I better be the only you call Daddy. Got that?” You feel pins and needles prodding your cheeks and numbing your fingers. You nod dumbly. He shakes his head, arching a brow in expectation. Swallowing, you shift in your seat. “Yes, Daddy,” you whisper shyly. He rewards you with a wide smirk, teeth peeking out behind pink lips, and leans back, hand gripping the door and fuck you can’t stop gawking at those biceps. Bakugou feels pride at the way you eye his arms, and maybe he flexes a little just to show off. “Night, baby.” With that, the door slams shut and the car pulls away from the restaurant. You raise your voice enough to tell the driver your address, then return to the daze the hero had left you in. It takes a few long minutes before you are able to pull it together. You flip through the cash he gave you, eyes growing to saucers when you see he gave you a whole ¥50,000. You couldn’t believe he’d give you so much, and for a dress! You stuff it into your purse and pull out your phone, staring at the new contact. You huff at it, Bakugou having put his name, just plain and boring, and edit the contact, changing the name to Daddy followed by an explosion emoji. You pull up a new conversation and shoot off a text to ensure he has your number. The whole way home you grin like a maniac, a light buzzing resonating through your entire being. You’re in a daze as you climb up the 4 flights of stairs to your apartment, humming something random as you unlock your door, only grounding when Rōrupan barrels into you and sends you right on your ass. You place both hands on either side of the dog’s face, scratching intently and sighing dreamily. “It seems things are turning out pretty good for me, Rōru.” The rest of your night is a haze of excitement humming in your veins.

Bakugou makes it home, thoughts stuck on the woman he spent his evening with. When he walks through the door Senshi immediately appears at his feet, rubbing himself across Bakugou’s leg, purring loudly like he has a car engine for a heart. The blond picks him up and scratches under his chin while wandering around the loft aimlessly. He’s left with a light feeling, energy swimming through his body and he doesn’t understand it. All of this from one date? Bakugou scoffs as he sets Senshi on the bed. “You should have seen how gorgeous she was,” he mutters to the cat. He removes his shirt, receiving a chirp in response from his companion. “You’d like her…but I guess you’re a whore for anyone who will give you attention, huh?” Senshi rolls onto his back, wiggling and mewing, as if to say, “Why don’t you give me attention?” Bakugou rolls his eyes affectionately, then continues to get ready for bed. And if he dreams of carding his fingers through [h/c] hair and kissing soft skin, that’s only between him and his cat.

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@sessi03

#my writing #bnha #bnha x reader #my hero academia #my hero academia x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugouxreader #guys i was starting this chapter and then had an epiphany #during a nap i realized that i was going to turn what was intended to be a couple chapters at most #into a fucking slowburn #i hope you bitches are PREPARED #cause i'm not #but it literally keeps me awake at night thinking about where this shit's gonna go #i have basic ideas for the main shit but the rest i'm just like #whatever lets see what happens ig

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fumifooms · 29 days ago

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Marcille and Chilchuck are that fucking bicorn chapter sandwich where it has sweet syrup mixed into it and Chilchuck starts out like "ewww -mocks it-" but then at the end of the chapter he tries it and he’s surprised that he likes the taste. He just had to try!! He’s been so closed off and passing up on so many friendships because of it out of fear!!! But then he triessss and he opens up and it’s gooood sobbingggg optimism and pessimism are like a surprisingly good sweet and sour sandwich marchil is like a surprisingly complementary sweet and sour sandwich I’m fine…………….

I think the timeline not being mentioned through the story makes it easy to miss that he and his wife haven’t spoken in 4 years since she left and see that’s one itsy bitsy detail Marcille didn’t get while she theorized, it went that far. Imagine your wife leaving you and you start out not reaching out to her because you have a petty cold shoulder resentment, but then you start being actually worried and by then you’re scared to reach out, but she’s still dear to you, and just like that waiting and waiting and waiting four years pass. Without a single word. Get him the clown shoes The universe gave him an idealist persistent coworker obsessed with his life for the express purpose of getting him to consider reaching out to her and open up his heart to hope again it’s great

Quoting a buddy, sometimes it feels like there’s no point in trying to do things because the results may be unfavorable, but you miss out on a lot if you keep to yourself so much. There’s a real social anxiety mindset there too… Shit’s hard and life’s tough and it sucks sometimes but you gotta keep trying, there’s also good you just have to keep an open eye and an open mind. This is why I say sometimes that marchil is the meaning to life to me likeeeee. Ok but it kinda is though…… to me…………..

For as many people think Chilchuck’s demeanor with his family might have been lacking, someone will not let you forget that Chilchuck is a VIRTUOUS HUSBAND!! < Marcille says with the power of bicorn and Daltian Clan on her side. Defend his virtue like he’s a blorbo from your shows marcille go And he is so sure he is an opaque wall he sees her as silly and clumsy, but he’s transparent lmao. She really is so curious about him. And bicorn’s sorta like at her top game on that front— She doesn’t know Chil’s wife so she gets ahead of herself on some things but Chilchuck wise? She gets his pov down so well that it leaves him shaking in fear of her accuracy gdbdg. Ohh the fear of being known, "if we want the rewards of being loved, we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known" is marchil but we been knew that.

Right from the beginning we see Marcille’s more observant with him than she seems, for example telling Senshi that Chil’s "the most mature of the party", but she does idealize him as a young little angel, similarly to Falin even when she knows logically they’re not kids, but still acts like it and oversteps boundaries, and then of course shit happens and the changelings puts the nail in that coffin- but before she can get to the bicorn convo at the top of her Chilchuck accuracy, she also first has to believe that Chilchuck committed adultery. His fall from grace from little angel to dirty old man status. She has to acknowledge he’s very much capable of fucking shit up and not soften it at all, he’s an adult and has to take responsibility for his mistakes, and give him the cold shoulder so Chil sees his life flashing in front of his eyes and goes fuck not again. "Maybe telling people I care about that I did awful things to get them off my back is a terrible strategy actually", and then when she finds out he hasn’t they’re back to being besties, but now Marcille fully sees him as an adult who’s capable of having faults. She can’t idealize him or strip him of depth anymore, him having these two hard to reconcile halves to him is key in teaching her not to judge and categorize people so much anymore.

But then… And this is the key, she saw him as a little guy to always forgive and excuse who can do no true wrong, to glaring at him and being unfriendly when it’s revealed he did something she can’t forgive easily— but when it’s cleared up, she doesn’t lean hard either way anymore, she doesn’t go right back to black and white putting him in a box, there’s balance now. When she gives her wife roleplay speech, she can recognize the faults in him that would have made her feel sad and unloved while still assuring him she’d love him and would want him back, she describes a blatantly unglamorous daily life and presents it as the greatest thing since sliced bread. She goes from idealizing impossible standards like novel princes to romanticizing a mediocre flawed everyday man 😌

And to be clear, romanticizing, not romancing. Focusing on the beauty of it and turning it into a nice aesthetic little thing like how she would a novel archetype, like how Ghibli movies romanticize slow daily life and chores. She doesn’t present it as something it’s not, she just sees the silver lining in all of it, frames it as pleasant and desirable. And isn’t that lowkey so much better like doesn’t that make life so beautiful without dangerously veiling your eyes to reality though…. Sighh marchil is the meaning of life

Giggling kicking my feet 💕 Marcille sees a rain cloud locked door locked heart locked book man and takes it as a challenge, says not on my watch I’ll befriend him, ends up reading him like an open book.

NOBODY DOES IT LIKE THEM!! THERE WILL NEVER BE ANOTHER MARCHIL AGAIN!!! Sobbing into my hands. What if our relationship and our arc examplified the theme of fantasy vs reality in relationships in Dunmeshi what then

You will fuck up and that’s ok… Shit will get tough but it’s worth it… There are still people to love and who will love you even if every relationship ends with loss, wether rejection or death. THE! MEANING! OF! LIFE!

Bad things and good things can coexist and balance each other out the way Chilchuck and Marcille do I need to walk into the ocean. Okay okay okay okay

Dunmeshi prones the importance of balance for both a healthy body and a healthy mind, and optimism vs pessimism is one such case <3

If you were too glass half-full and I was too glass half-empty, maybe together we could make a full glass

#Fumi rambles #Marchil #A fraction of the power the marchil blast living in my brain has #Marchil is sooooo marchil is aghhhhhhhh aaaaaaahoug.#Letting myself go and marchilposting casually for once nowadays. Feels really good. Let the marchil wash over u #Lotsa stuff here i wanna cover in the marchil arc analysis but well. Whatever it’s been a year. Another peek another way to phrase it #When I talk about how I regularly ramble and give my marchil speech to anyone in the vicinity on discord this p much is the one i mean #Keeping marchil in my heart so i remember words of wisdom and keep my chakras aligned and live happily w an immortal soul #… I binged midnight mass for christmas it shows a bit #Spoilers #dungeon meshi manga spoilers #Dungeon meshi #marcille donato #chilchuck tims #This is a good new year themed post i feel actually. Too bad it’s for christmas now i guess

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