#and honestly nothing can stop me from drawing angsty art

[orangesavannah]

Not so Invincible

#invincible #nk #nkos #orangesavannah #mark grayson #blood #superhero #I might have liked the show Invincible just a bit too much! #and honestly nothing can stop me from drawing angsty art #not really a spoiler warning? #I hope

[sketching-shark]

I think we should start a protection squad (although they don’t need it because they can protect themselves) for Sun Wukong and Guanyin

“Begone monkie kid fandom trying to down grade these really interesting characters with interesting personality’s and backstory ( the both of them like seriously Guanyin backstory is so cool) to a villain wile trying to justify your angsty backstory (that are no where near as cool as monkey who fights gods and Person who has 1000 arms and heads to help people in need) for the actual villain”

So who wants to join

Me:*raises my hand*

Ps: sorry if I got Guanyin backstory wrong am not an expert on it.

Haha okay so some critiques on the jttw & associated media western fandom & fandom in general coming up, so please skip this upcoming text wall if you don't want to encounter my undoubtedly ~devastating~ words (i.e. don't like don't read as people love to say, & if I have to be inundated with images of my notp every time I go into the sun wukong tag then I imagine people can be chill with me expressing my opinions & giving people fair warning that I WILL be critiquing common fandom trends, but no need for you to see that if you don’t want to. Cool? Cool.)

-----

PFFFFFTTT oh man there are many times when I feel like signing up for such a protection squad...when it comes to the current western jttw & Sun Wukong fandom I do feel like I'm often swinging at a rapid pace between "well it's fandom & people are allowed to make the stories they want" & "I am once again begging my fellow monkie kid enthusiasts (& sometimes creators) to do more research into the og classic/show it more respect so you can avoid any potentially offensive/off-the-mark misunderstandings of the status & cultural context of the characters in their country of origin (I promise it's super interesting & I can provide you with links to free pdf copies of the entire Yu translation, i.e. the best one ever created, so feel free to ask!) & maybe also stop constantly stripping away all the nuance of Sun Wukong's character for the sake of either making him an entire asshole so your little meow meow can look completely innocent in comparison and/or making the monkey king's entire life & character revolve around said meow meow."

Like I get that fandom's supposed to be a kind of anything-goes environment, but one thing that honestly seems to be true of a lot of fandoms--and the western one for Sun Wukong & co. is certainly not immune from this--is that there often seems to be a kind of monoculturalization at work in what stories are created & what character interpretations are made popular. Across a multitude of fandoms, you frequently see basically nothing but the exact same tropes being made popular & even being insisted on for the canonical work (especially hasty redemption arcs & enemies to lovers these days), the exact same one-dimensional character types that characters from an original work keep getting shoved into, the exact same story beats, etc. And I get it to an extent, as fandom is generally a space where people just make art and fic for fun & without thinking too hard about it & without any pressure. 

This seems to, however, often unfortunately lead to the mentality that it’s your god-given right to do literally whatever you want with literally any cultural figure without even the slightest bit of thought put into their cultural, historical, and even religious context, even (and sometimes especially) when it comes to figures that are really important in a culture outside your own. For such figures--even if you first encounter them in a children’s cartoon--you should be a little more careful with what you do with them than you would with your usual Saturday morning line-up. It of course has to be acknowledged that there exists a whole pile of absolutely ridiculous & cursed pieces of media that are based on Journey to the West & that were produced in mainland China, but for your own education if nothing else I consider it good practice for those of us (myself certainly included) who aren’t part of the culture that produced JTTW to put more thought into how we might want to portray these characters so that at the very least (to pull some things I’ve seen from the jttw western fandom) we’re not turning a goddess of mercy into an evil figure for the sake of Angst(TM), or relegating other important literary figures into the positions of offensive stereotypes, or making broad claims about the source text & original characterizations of various figures that are blatantly untrue, or mocking heavenly deities because of what’s actually your misunderstanding of how immortality works according to Daoist beliefs. Yet while a lot of this is often due to people not even trying to understand the context these figures are coming from, I do want to acknowledge that the journey (lol reference) to understand even a fraction of the original cultural context can be a daunting one, especially since, as I’ve mentioned before, it can be really hard & even next to impossible to find good, accessible, & legitimate explanations in English of how, for example, the relationship between Sun Wukong and the Six-Eared Macaque is commonly interpreted in China & according to the Buddhist beliefs that define the original work. 

That is to say, I do think it’s an unfortunate, if unavoidable, part of any introduction of an original text into a culture foreign to its own for there to be sometimes a significant amount of misinterpretation, mistranslations, and false assumptions. There is, however, a big difference between learning from your honest mistakes, & doubling down on them while dismissing all criticism of your misinterpretation into that abstract category of “fandom drama.” The latter attitude is kind of shitty at best and horrifically entitled at worst. 

Plus, as I’ve discovered, there is a great deal of interest and joy to be drawn from keeping yourself open to learning aspects of these texts & figures that you weren’t aware of! I can say from my own experience that I’ve always really enjoyed & appreciated it when individuals on this site who come from a Chinese background--and who know much more about the cultural context of JTTW than me--have taken the time to explain its various aspects. It often leaves me feeling like woooooaaaahhhhhHHH!!!! as to how amazingly full of nuanced meaning JTTW is like dang no wonder it’s one of China’s Four Great Classical Novels. 

And I guess that right there is the heart of a lot of my own personal frustration and disappointment with the ways that fandoms often approach a literary work or other piece of media...like don’t get me wrong, a lot of the original works a fandom may grow around are just straight-up goofy & everyone’s aware of it & has fun with it, yet the trend of approaching what are often nuanced and multi-layered works in terms of how well they fit and/or can be shoved into pretty cliche ideas of Redemption Arc or Enemies to Lovers or Hero Actually Bad, Villain Actually Good etc...well, it just seems to cheapen and even erase even the possibility of understanding the wonderful complexity or even endearing simplicity that made these works so beloved in the first place. Again, I feel like I need to make it clear that I’m not saying fandom should be a space where people are constantly trying to one-up each other with their hot takes in literary analysis, but it would be nice and even beneficial to allow room for commentary that strives to approach these works in a multi-faceted way, analysis & interpretations that go against the popular fandom beliefs, & criticism of the work or even of fandom trends (yes it is in fact possible to legitimately love something but still be critical of its aspects) instead of immediately attacking people who try to engage in such as just being haters who don’t want anyone to have fun ever (X_X).   

----

Anyway, I know I didn’t cover even half of the stuff you brought up in the first place anon, but I don’t want any interested parties to this post to suffer too long through my text wall lol. I was asked to try my hand at illustrating Guanyin, but as with you I’m nowhere near as informed as I should be about her, so I want to do more research on her history and religious importance before I attempt a portrait. I’ll try my best, and do plan to pair that illustration with my own outsider’s attempt to summarize her character. From what little I do know I am in full agreement that her backstory is so incredibly amazing...just the fact that she literally eschewed the bliss of Nirvana to help all beings reach it, and even split herself into pieces in the attempt to do so (with Buddha granting her eleven heads and a thousand arms as a result)...man, I can see why she’s such a beloved & respected deity. 

----

 As for what western fandom commonly does with everyone’s favorite god-fighting primate...I can talk about this at length if there’s interest, but for this post I’ll just say that I guess one lesson from all of this is that for all the centuries that have passed since Journey to the West was first completed, literally no one drawing inspiration from the original tale in the west (lol) has come even slightly close to being able to equal or even capture half the extent of the nuance, complexity, religious, historical, and cultural aspects, and humor that define Wu Cheng'en's story of an overpowered monkey who defied even Buddha.

So thank the heavens we'll always have the original.

#journey to the west #jttw #guanyin #sun wukong #monkey king #monkie kid #fandom #fandom critical

[sarahjkl82-blog]

Artistic Instinct Chapter 10

Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty

Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.

Word count: 6500

Warnings: Language as always, grief, loss and some second base action.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)

This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who reads, re-reads, points out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something. This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!

May the flowers remind us why the rain was so necessary - Xan Oku

Chapter 10

Your eyes fly open - heart pounding, mouth dry- as the nighttime movie that played behind your eyelids finishes abruptly. Hugging your arms around yourself, you try to steady the impact of that injection of adrenaline into your veins, drawing deep breaths into your lungs as you gaze into the oil slick of darkness surrounding you. The sounds of day are yet to kick into being as your phone screen illuminates 03:02 - the trains not yet pulling out of their sidings, sirens still silenced for the most part. The night air is just punctuated by the rhythmic pitter patter of rain upon the roof and the sweetest little snores still rising steadily from your…

Your boss.

For fucks sake.

Once could be called a mistake, even if it was a twelve year long one. But back doing this shit again? Sheer fucking stupidity. Your head drops into your hands as a stab of pain cuts through your gut. What the fuck do you do now? Marcus so honestly put his heart on a platter for you last night- could you be the cold hearted, callous bitch that throws it back in his face? All of your body fizzes with fear - your muscles twitching with the cortisol so rather than irritate him with your fidgeting, you slide out of his bed.

Bare soles on the night-cooled wooden floors help to ground your flighty soul as you walk around the unfamiliar apartment. Whilst the exterior dampness can only come as far as pretty patterns on the window pane, the chill causes tiny pinprick goosebumps to stand proud against your skin. You finally settle cross-legged on the floor by the French doors leading out to the balcony, watching the raindrops race each other down the glass - mentally cheering on your favourites as they glide towards the inky pools gathering beneath them.

With your mind so lost in your new-found sport, you aren’t entirely aware of the arrival of a warm, breathing blanket that curls itself around your body languidly before you are tightly encircled by long limbs and gentle nuzzling into the side of your neck, “What’s up, honey?”

A small, precious kiss is pressed into your temple before the sleep-thick murmur continues in your ear, “Thought you’d left. So happy to find you here.”

Leaning back into his broad chest, you allow the expanse of his form that is wrapped around you to consume your body whole, “Bad dream. Couldn’t get back to sleep and didn’t want to wake you.”

“‘M sorry,” Marcus slides you slightly to his left so he can search your face for the answers that you are so incredibly reluctant to give, “Your heart is racing - do you want to talk or just have things that will make you feel better?”

Initially, you don’t feel able to catch his gaze, having thought about breaking his heart only minutes prior to his soothing arrival but when you do, everything hits you like a ton of bricks. The deep pillow creases of his cheek, sweetly mussed up hair and the earthy hues of his questioning eyes make your fist fly to cover your eyes as your tears echo the deluge of rain.

He doesn’t speak. Just holds you close. Cradling you in his arms as your body shakes into his. Marcus allows you to sit with your pain awhile - not pressuring you to speak or offering any empty platitudes to solve it- allowing the hurricane of grief to rip through you, all the while tethering you to the ground.

As the tears exhaust themselves, Marcus leaves and your eyes dance in panic at the loss of his soothing touch. The relief of hearing his kettle start to boil and then the gentle roar of taps filling a tub, stretch a ghostly pair of arms back around you, soothing the ache beneath your ribs. A hand reaches down to you offering a way out - gently hoisting you back onto your feet.

“C’mere sweetheart,” Marcus pulls you back into his chest, pressing a line of kisses along your hairline, “I’ve made you a cup of camomile tea and run you a bath.”

He makes to leave you but your haunted eyes and tight grip upon his wrist beg him to stay, “Honey, I don’t want to overstep the mark here. I’m sorry that I asked you to stay. Overwhelming you like this, isn’t fair of me.”

Trying to eloquently respond to him comes out with just a snotty sad gasp so you vehemently shake your head tugging his hand towards the bathroom. Once inside the metro tiled space - pausing between heaving breaths - you manage to squeak out in your juddery voice, “Please stay with me.”

“Please don’t feel guilty - this is just shit I need to work through,” you mumble as you fiddle with the hem of Marcus’ t-shirt, feeling his skin twitch as you accidentally make contact, “I’m sorry that it’s having a knock on effect for you.”

“You have nothing to apologise for,” he leans in to sweetly kiss your forehead, “I’ll turn around while you get in but I promise not to leave.”

“I don’t care if you see me naked - it’s just a body,” you mutter slightly confused by this sentiment when he’d been stroking your breasts earlier. As you start peeling off the t-shirt you’d borrowed from him, Marcus swings to face the bathroom door quickly.

“No,” the sharpness of Marcus’ response steals the air from your lungs momentarily - you stand in front of him like a rabbit caught in headlights, “I’m sorry, sweetheart - didn’t mean to be so forceful. No - it’s not just a body. It is your body and I wanna enjoy it properly when you’re not so upset. It would be taking advantage.”

Slowly lowering yourself into the delicious expanse of Marcus’ bath, you allow the warmth to soak into your aching bones. The water cocoons and hugs every inch of you as you permit it to unknit every knot of tension within your body.

“You can turn around now.”

A kind smile plays upon the deep creases set by Marcus’ eyes, “Tilt your head back.”

Reaching behind you, he turns on the shower attachment - the water bursting forth in a perfect summer rain across the skin of the bath water. Like a parent with a child, he checks the temperature until it reaches a soothing heat and runs it over your hair, soaking every last strand, washing away the mix of salt from anxious sweat and tears. Dropping the shower head in the bath, he then grabs a generous squirt of shampoo in his hands, lathering it into your scalp, massaging until you feel like a gelatinous blob under his skilful touch.

After rinsing every last bubble and sud from your hair, Marcus then squeezes out some conditioner - the bottle releasing the most indecent sound that has you both giggling like small children. Having coated his digits well, he starts to run his fingers through your hair - combing every strand with his hands, ensuring there isn’t a single knot to be found. A gentle finger beneath your chin tells you to tip your head back again as the shower rinses the excess away.

Settling back on the plush bath mat, Marcus passes you your tea silently and you just sit. Sit there in companionable silence - without an ounce of awkwardness- just both sipping tea as your body gradually accepts its need to sleep again.

✪✪✪✪✪

“Give me two minutes and I’ll be ready,” Marcus gazes softly after your disappearing form as you spin into your bedroom to get dressed for work. It takes every bit of gentlemanly restraint that he possesses not to follow you, run his hands over your silken skin and get a hit of your delicious taste. Instead he re-settles his mind by looking around your flat having finally been allowed a peek inside your inner sanctum.

He doesn’t quite know what he expects to see but it certainly isn’t this. It feels an odd mix in there- piles of cushions and blankets but no photos. No pictures decorating the place yet multiple empty frames propped against walls, waiting for their stories to be told. Your home isn’t really a home at all - it is just a roof over your head with nests for you to curl into exhaustedly.

“Have you been here long?” he asks quizzically, spying the battered moving boxes that have obviously been rummaged through for a missing necessary nick-nack or two but never having been fully unpacked. Marcus runs his hand over the coarse, corrugated cardboard and light spattering of dust coating them, wondering what secrets you wish to keep hidden in there and if you will ever open fully to him, to allow him to lighten your load.

“Almost two years,” he hears you muffledly answer through the jumper you pull over your head as you momentarily reappear in the doorway of your bedroom - a vision of radiantly soft curves- just knickers and a mess of limbs arguing with the item of clothing, before your breasts get hidden under the striped knitwear.

As much as Marcus tries to stop himself, his body takes the required steps forward so that his fingers can be satiated with the warmth of your skin. He doesn’t kiss you yet - the heat of his breath just dusts the shell of your ear as he inhales the scent of his shampoo in your hair.

“Look at you,” he murmurs - shaking his head in disbelief as he grabs your wrists and pulls you into him, “Beautiful.”

Using the back of his hand to release the hair caught in the collar of your jumper, Marcus takes a moment to drink in all your features. The flecks of gold in your eyes, the sharpness of your cheekbones, the streaks of wisdom in your hair - how were you, the beauty that you are, interested in him?

And then you’re kissing him. Your mouth open, soft lips inviting him into your inner sanctum. He feels your fingertips stroking into the nape of his neck, your nails scratching into the hair that twists and curls there. Shivers of pleasure run down Marcus’ spine, making him pull you closer as your touch sparks life across his body. Your gentle push causes Marcus to startle - to stumble backwards, falling back onto the sofa, sending cushions scuttling across the floor.

Feeling his jaw tic as you clamber into a kneeling position above him, Marcus tries to steady his breath by focussing on the small details of you. The darker spots of pigmentation where the sun has permanently kissed your skin. The divots of your collarbones just peeking above your sweater. The small reminder of a childhood misadventure just above your right eyebrow.

Nope. This is not working. God, I want her.

“Lower those goddamn hips,” he growls, “Sit down.”

“I can’t,” he hears you whimper, eyes shut tight, “I’ll make a mess of your trousers.”

Marcus groans as he considers the sweetness that is encased by those bright pink, lace edged panties - still not quite believing that it is him who has had this effect on you. When you grab his hands that have been stroking little circles by your knees and pull them to your ass, the heat in him rises as he squeezes and needles the delicious flesh beneath.

“This is gonna be hard having you work so close,” as soon as he hears the words leave his mouth, he regrets it. The little twitch between your eyebrows. The tremble of your bottom lip. The slight shift back of your weight upon his lap. Marcus catches them all.

“I’m sorry. Nush, I shouldn’t have…”

As your weight rocks back away from him, leaving his body quickly cooling with your absence, the air is punctuated with your muttering of one word over and over. Each utterance a bullet coated in guilt hitting him sharply.

“Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.”

Scrunching his eyes tight shut, he rocks forward, head in hands. Should he come after you? Should he leave? Fuck, Pike.

Hearing the creak of your bedroom door, Marcus lifts his head in your direction - his eyes throwing a million apologies to you, “Nush, I’m so sorry - I didn’t mean to upset you. That’s the last thing that I’d ever want to do.”

He watches as you walk across the floor - smaller shuffling steps rather than your usual confident stomp, your eyes red-rimmed and glassy and your breathing a little jagged - and feels like he’s just crushed a butterfly in his hands when all he was trying to do was appreciate its beauty. Water starts to pool in the corners of his eyes as he blinks hard to warn them off - after all, he didn’t need to give you any other reason to walk away from him. A small grateful smile creeps across his face when you settle between his knees, resting your arms across his lap - your tear-streaked face looking up at him.

“I’m frightened,” he hears you whisper, “Repeating past mistakes is sheer fucking stupidity.”

Marcus freezes, the blood in his veins turning to ice as he awaits your verdict.

“I can’t do that again. You cannot become another Jasper to me. The relationship that never was with all the hiding.”

“I don’t want us to hide,” he hears his voice betraying him as fear courses through his synapses, his hands aching to touch you. Hold you.

Please don’t let me lose her.

Please don’t let this be it.

“Can I touch you?” Marcus quietly, carefully checks before daring to reach out. He watches as a cloud of confusion washes across your face at his request.

“Of course you can. What? Hang on, did you think,” you pause, brow furrowed, “Did you think I want to stop whatever this turns out to be?”

With his shoulders slightly hunched, one hand reaching behind to rub the base of his neck, Marcus nods, “Yeah, a bit. I…”

“I don’t wanna fuck this up, Nush,” he reaches forward to stroke your wrist.

“Me neither, but we will,” your words take a moment to register with him, “We have both experienced so much - good and bad - that we will put our proverbial foot in it with each other.

“But, I hope that in time, with our collective pasts and the streaks of grey in our hair, we may also slowly learn how to communicate and say when things are a bit shit for us and why. Why my instinct is to run screaming from things and why you think everyone you love is going to leave.”

Marcus curls forward so he can rest his forehead against yours before placing a small kiss there, “Now you’re really gonna have to be two minutes if we’re gonna get to work on time. I’m just gonna shut my eyes until you’re dressed so I’m not tempted to make us late.”

“You think that’ll work?”

Chuckling at the wink you throw at him over your shoulder, Marcus starts to allow that tiny ray of hope he’s been burying for years to shine again.

✪✪✪✪✪

As Marcus opens the door for you, an overwhelming wave assaults your senses. Noises from tapping keyboards, phones ringing and computers blaring, the overwhelming scents of fatty, sugary yet discarded breakfasts and coffee hits hard but it’s the tiny, surreptitious stroke at the base of your spine gives you the kick you need to go in and start your day. A steaming coffee is thrust towards Marcus behind you and some case files are handed to you by a smiling Andy, “Morning Sir, morning Nush. What time did you manage to get cleared up?”

“Between the two of us, it didn’t take too long,” you grin at the PA before looking over your shoulder to find Marcus smiling at you, “Think I was asleep by eleven.”

“Snoring away,” Marcus barely audibly whispers, making your eyes widen.

“Ready for the meeting at nine o’clock, Sir? I have everything set up in the conference room, ready to go…” Andy sweeps Marcus away from you as you head over to your desk, spying the hot cup of Java awaiting your arrival.

New piles of paperwork seem to litter your desk, replacing the ones you’d tried so hard to clear on Friday afternoon. Office life. That it is a life is a bit of a lie, as every soul within your office space looks like it is in some stage of decomposition. Kiri appears to be in need of another weekend to get over the two days of rest just gone, Dian is yawning into her coffee and as for Harper, well, there’s a part of you that doesn’t quite believe she’s fully human with the way she’s already ploughing through her work.

When 9am finally rolls around, it feels more like two in the afternoon. Marcus sticks his head out of the door to call everyone into the meeting and is met by several groans from the team as they reluctantly shake themselves from their chairs and drag their Monday fatigued bones towards the conference room. At the oval, walnut table, you sit sandwiched between Dian and Kiri, directly opposite Andy in a hopefully not too obvious ploy to not be too close to Marcus.

“Good morning everyone, I’d ask you if you’d all had a good weekend but I think we spent enough time together to know that we all did,” a chuckle rises from your office mates as Marcus welcomes everyone, “I wanted to have a catch up this morning as the Soutine that Agent Pierce and I checked in Lyon, has come back as a definite fake. The verdict was reached late Friday afternoon and the French authorities are currently trying to trace its origins.

“We also received word this morning that a Modigliani has turned up in Sotheby’s - they have their own art fraud team but hopefully we will get a look in soon. Agent Pierce, I know I haven’t asked you to prep but could you explain to the team what the issues are around his work?”

“Sotheby’s?” you question, staring straight at Marcus and entirely ignoring his request, “I can get in there now as my best mate works in the fraud team.”

“Hephzibah?” Andy catches your eye, “Didn’t realise she’d transferred over from Scotland Yard.”

“More money,” you shrug as Andy presses his lips together and nods in agreement.

“No, Agent Pierce, I’d like us to hang back for now,” Marcus responds, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair, “If you could give us some of your insight about Modigliani’s pieces, please?”

Slightly taken aback by Marcus’ firmness, you take a moment before responding, “Modigliani’s back catalogue is a fucking mess as he used to give out sketches like a fortune teller.

“Jean Cocteau said that he was drawn by Modigliani roughly fifty times but he only ever owned one picture. Prices have skyrocketed over the past decade with one going for $170.4 million dollars so he’s very much a member of the $100 million club along with Warhol, Picasso et al but not quite at their ethereal prices.

“One of the main things about Modigliani is that the love of the man is not easily separated from his art. Over the years, he has been painted as somewhat Byronesque in his exploits by salacious biographies and films - very much sex and drugs and rock n roll. A bohemian who lived in Montparnasse and Montmartre at the Fin de Siecle - he was known by all the artists who lived there at the time - Picasso even said he was the only man in Paris who knew how to dress.

“To be honest, whilst he was hot - soulful dark eyes, ebony, wavy hair and a beautiful bone structure with an extraordinary amount of intelligence and eloquence-”

“Ah, so you have a type?” Harper mutters into her notes.

Your cheeks flush and eyes dart around the room, hoping that Marcus didn’t hear that as you desperately try to summon a consummate professional performance for the others, “-It is hugely difficult to separate the man from the myth but the main issue due to his profligacy with his art, unlike the other greats who get over $100 million for their work, Modigliani’s work is often questioned. You could easily find a Modigliani in an attic with a letter attached from the man himself and people would still raise an eyebrow at it.

“So, um, the main thing according to all the auction houses is that unless it is in the catalogue curated by Ceroni, it ain’t a Modigliani. This is problematic in itself as that was published in 1958 and even some of the pieces on his list are questionable. People have ended up in prison over their dubious dealings with Modigliani’s back catalogue as you can see in the case of Parisot.

“So if a piece comes to auction that isn’t on the list, they’re damned if it is a Modigliani, and damned if it isn’t?” Dian questions you.

“Pretty much. And he worked at a time when a lot of advances and changes happened in artist’s products. In the first half of the twentieth century, both the production of paint and paper changed massively as everything was slowly more industrialised and made more stable. By industrialising these things, it made the equipment cheaper quicker as more could use it rather than being made Etsy-style in tiny batches that were way beyond the means of most artists.

“Normally, with older pieces we can look at how the artists use paints and the type of paints they use but with more modern artists everything becomes a bit murkier as it is harder to date. And I will stop there before I piss off Harper by rabbiting on too much more.”

Even Harper has the decency to smirk at your comment before returning to her notes. Marcus’s gaze has softened again as you finish speaking, “ Thanks, Agent Pierce. Perhaps we could hear from you now Agent Gleason and Youngerson?”

Harper raises her eyebrows in Marcus’ direction before starting, “So, Agent Youngerson and I have been looking at various right wing groups currently active across the world and what their links are to the art world. The main ones who have thrown up scents for us to chase are The Old School Society, Hydra and The Order.”

Dian looks up from her pad of extensive notes, “Yeah, we've been tracing money routes with those three and when looking at the main donors to these groups, they’ve all had dealings with art galleries and auction houses recently. So we’re now looking into each donor carefully and may need to do some in the field meetings with them as prospective buyers - so my darling work wife, Nush, we may need notes unless you fancy being our cover girl?” she comically winks at you. Making a little heart with your index finger and thumb, you send an equally cheesy wink and click of the tongue back at her.

Marcus huffs a chuckle out at the two of you before turning his attention to Kiritopa, “How have you been getting on with your catalogue of fakes relating to this case?”

“Yeah, alright - slow going collecting all the data as it seems some auction houses are reluctant to reveal how many fakes pass through their doors,” Kiri frowns before glugging some more coffee.

“It’s understandable, they don’t want their reputations dashed. Doesn’t make our work any easier though. Agent Morrison - if you can show me what you’ve compiled so far that’d be great,” Marcus gives the agent a small, sincere smile before turning to address the room again, “Right, I have a meeting this afternoon that’ll keep me out of the office for the rest of the day so I’ll leave you all to get on. Have a great day everyone.”

✪✪✪✪✪

You:

Hey sexy lady, I hear you’ve got a tasty little number at S’s - can I take a look?

Hephzi:

Off the books? Course you can. Change into civvies and I’ll get you in this afternoon.

You:

You’re a fucking ⭐️. I’ll make it worth your while

Hephzi:

Do you mean cake and coffee? Because if you do, I’m fucking yours.

You:

Urm obviously! See you around two?

A small knock on your desk makes you put down your phone and you look up into Marcus’ face, “Hey, you got a minute?”

“Yes, Sir,” as you push your chair away from your desk, you throw your mobile in your desk drawer and follow him into his office.

His desk is immaculately tidy and warm to the touch with its honey and caramel tones washing back and forth in undulating waves as if across a beach. There’s not a hint of Marcus in his office yet - no personal treasures - it stands in stark contrast to the warmth of the man you’re getting to know.

“I just wanted to check you were ok. I heard what Harper said,” he reaches out to straighten the ribbing at the bottom of your jumper, his thumb stroking your tummy lightly.

“She’s not wrong,” you grin lopsidedly at him as you step in closer, placing your hands on either side of his face, “Dark soulful eyes, beautifully high cheekbones, delightfully luscious lips that are perfect for kissing - hard not to fancy Modigliani, really.”

“You’re mean,” Marcus squeezes your hip as he shakes his head, “When would you like to speak to the others? I think being up front with them will help us in the long run.”

You sit on the edge of his desk, leaning back slightly, your face illuminated by your smile, “Maybe we can have our first date and then think about the long run?”

When you see the flinch from Marcus, a pang of guilt echoes through your gut as you recall your earlier conversation, “I think you’re right- once we’re truly confident we know where this is headed, we should speak up. I am not going to lose my job or risk my reputation for you… but I also already know that I don’t want to lose you either.”

“Me neither,” his hand reaches out for you, fingers entangling, thumbs stroking - eyes crinkling as they meet yours, “What are you doing for lunch?”

“Well, I was a bit distracted when I got dressed this morning - there was this really hot guy in my flat…”

“Uh huh, tell me about him,” Marcus slowly drawls, looking down at you amusedly.

“Oh you don’t want to know, Sir. Wouldn’t let me get dressed. Just kept groping me.”

“How... inappropriate of him.”

“Yeah - so I was almost late to work because of him wanting his wicked way with me and accidentally ended up putting on two different shoes.” Marcus steps away from you and having looked down, notices the one extremely dark navy and one black ballet pump with a gently shaking chest as he tries to swallow his chuckle.

“Going home to change? Your mind really must have been elsewhere,” you nod at him -slightly embarrassed by your initial genuine mistake that has now become a cover story. His gaze intensifies as he cups your face, his eyes focussing on your lips, “I’m sorry honey, I don’t think I’ll have time to drop you there and back before my meeting - will you be ok?”

“Of course, Marcus - I’ve worked here for years,” you tease him, feeling awkward as fuck when the half truth you are spinning for your boss feels awkward and bitter in your mouth.

But his kiss doesn’t. Marcus quickly closes the gap between the two of you, leaning towards you - his head tilted, lips soft and welcoming with their desire for you utterly apparent. Deepening the kiss, his mouth gently opening, tongue searching as his hands drop from your face to your waist, you find yourself forgetting to worry that anyone could walk in. Forgetting the regret of lying to him. What had you even been talking about? Should you be doing this? Fuck it. You pull him the final distance so that no air could pass between you - just you and Marcus refusing to pause for breath until your lungs run out of air.

Pulling back to gaze at him with lust blown pupils, wanting him so much more, you eventually find the energy to push away from him. Swiping at your lips with your thumb in case anyone spots the remnants of this moment as you walk towards the door on brand new baby deer legs.

“Hey Nush,” you swing back to look at Marcus, still standing, equally dumbstruck as you, before he winks with a cheeky grin, “Nice shoes.”

✪✪✪✪✪

Gripping the cardboard carrier that holds two steaming cups of black coffee in your left hand, you ring the bell to the magnificent Bloomsbury building that has sold multiple pieces of multi-million pound art. The Georgian façade is impressive in its structure and beautifully kept without a sign of peeling paint, decrying its almost 250 year history - a far cry from the shatterproof glass and steel at HQ. Hephzi opens the door to you with a wide grin upon her face, “Bang on time, missus - I swear the only way to get you places quickly, is with the promise of fine art to get you salivating!”

You can’t really respond eloquently to her as you are absorbed into the cool of the elegant building. Whilst kept modern and minimalistic, the space has retained some of its more charming period features - the cornicing and ceiling roses are still firmly in place despite the stark white of the walls. Oh, the pieces that have passed through this space! The very thought makes you tingle all over through excitement.

Currently bedecking the walls are a collection of women artists about to go up for auction the next day. To you, there was no true money in those frames - just a conversation between you, the spectator and the artist about their emotions in picture form. A discussion that spanned centuries as you follow Hephzi’s soft footsteps through the gallery, enjoying every single one from a still life of flowers surrounded by butterflies and other insects by Rachel Ruysch to one of the copies of Blinding by Tracy Emin - the upside down nude female form shaped in neon pink tubes. The artists speak through ages, through the art upon the wall, in the language of your soul.

Marcus would love it here. Oh to bring him and enjoy it together, walking through the space, hand in hand. My head on his shoulder...

“...Hello? Earth to Nushka? Ah, welcome back,” Hephzibah is shaking her head at you, “You’re here on work experience if anyone asks, yes?”

“Yup,” still only half listening to your friend, you begrudgingly continue on to her workspace in the fraud and forgeries department, reluctantly walking away from the art you long to submerge yourself in.

“Right, hand over the coffee and cake- I take payment in advance, Madam,” Hephzi demands, hand outstretched, “So tell me about the new job. What’s your new boss like?”

“Marcus is nice,” you quietly offer into the rim of your coffee.

“First names already?” Hephzibah’s eyes are round with surprise, “And you mention him before the job… Who even are you? What have you done with the real Nush? Oh! Oh Nush, do you like him?”

You stand there blinking hard, feeling an absolute idiot for being so awkward in front of the person you call your best friend. A small, barely perceivable nod through the steam of your coffee has the arms of your best friend wrapped around you, “Nush, tell me more - has anything happened? Do you think he feels the same way?”

“I think so. Made a curry last night for the team at his flat, and ended up staying the night - nothing happ.. Well, we didn’t have sex but I think he likes me,” you nervously chatter at her before drawing a deep breath, “He’s pretty fucking amazing. Seems to be genuinely a nice guy - just straight talking, gentle, kind and holy shit is he good looking! His kisses and touches just turn me into fucking jelly.”

“Better than Jas?”

Your heart thuds in your chest so hard that there is a point where you fully expect it to wrench open your rib cage and run across the floor. You stare wide-eyed, your mouth open

“What?”

Hephzi steps forward, her gaze gentle as she places her hand on your arm, “You weren’t quite as good at hiding it as you thought you were. It was pretty obvious you were together and loved each other very dearly - I just knew that if I ever brought it up that you would run a mile.

“I tried telling you that I knew before. It was after he died and I wanted you to know that I knew it wasn’t just the death of a co-worker. Not that there’s ever any just in those situations for us either but I knew. When I asked about meeting someone the other day, it was more of me just trying to figure out if you were ready to date again.”

With that, the floodgates open and the grief flows you like a river, eroding your defences away. Hephzi holds you as you utterly soak through her expensive blouse, “I wanted to tell you so many times but I was terrified of what you’d think of me.”

“What I’d think of you - are you fucking kidding me, you absolute idiot?” she tucks your tear drenched hair behind your ears, “I’ve held your hair back in pub toilets as you’ve thrown up from too much alcohol and gotten you out of so many other scrapes but that, a relationship with a man from work is what you think I’d judge you for? Nah, that's not how any of this works, mate. Firstly, you can’t help who you fall in love with and secondly, where else are you ever going to meet someone when all you do is work?”

“N...N...Need a tissue. You made me get all snotty,” you tearfully stammer, all blotchy-face and tear streaked.

Hephzi can’t help but laugh at you blaming her for your tears. As she grabs a tissue, she also grabs the cake and the serviettes from the bag, “Come on, I know what’ll cheer you up - cake and a masterpiece.”

Following her into the studio beside her office, there it is. A supposedly lost version of Modigliani’s Nu Couché sur le Côté Gauche - her sheer sensuality rolling off her in waves. The way that she gazes out of the piece beguilingly, inviting you to join her on the bed, the sheets ruffled and rolling beneath her delicious curves.

Hephzi laughs at your reaction to the piece, “She’s hot isn’t she?”

“Yep - I’d definitely do her. I’d like to say that it is her almond eyes enticing me but really, it’s that entirely biteable bum,” you say before biting into the pastel de nata.

“Agreed - although for me, it’s her back and her thighs. They are edible - as you rightly say,” she says into her coffee.

“How’s the provenance?”

Hepzhi pulls a face as she turns back to you, “Traceable, but this one isn’t in Ceroni.”

“Shit.”

“My thoughts entirely. Look, love, I can’t let you touch it but feel free to take photos, measurements etc. As soon as my own tests come back, I promise you’ll know before the guys upstairs do,” Hephzibah asserts before sitting back on the desk in the room, “Just remember, you’re here on work experience.”

You throw a thank you over your shoulder at the rapidly retreating figure of Hepzi as you set to work. Using a Canon with a macro lens, you instantly photograph the major features and then take several overlapping pictures so that you can look close up on your computer at work. Whilst not quite a microscope, it would have to do given the circumstances. You trusted Hephzi’s sample taking but it was good to see it in person, even if Marcus had asked you to hold fire.

Whilst you were taking measurements of various points and aspects of the picture, you realised there were multiple footsteps coming up the corridor. Hephzi, obviously heard them gaining on the studio too and rejoined you, to back the story of work experience rather than letting her old friend backstage for some covert readings. She threw her notebook at you with a pencil to have the pretence of you taking notes as she worked.

“Well, Hephzibah, that is the first time I’ve ever seen you entrust your beloved notebook with anyone other than yourself. You have never even shown me the secrets you record there, and I am the person paying your salary,” a truly plummy voice cut through the room, “Whoever this work experience girl is, we will have to see about hiring her if you trust her this much.”

Hephzibah plasters a smile onto her features, “Sir, she is the best I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet. Such a keen eye.”

Refusing to turn around, you carry on making notes in Hephzi’s journal, attempting to concentrate on the words written in front of you, instead of the intrusion.

“So what d’ya think? On first impressions, is it real?”

Shit.

That voice.

Stepping up in response, Hephzibah firmly states, “Sir, I am terribly sorry but I am not currently at liberty to be able to fully disclose that info…”

“Oh no, it is quite alright, Hephzibah - this gentleman is Marcus Pike. He is currently fronting an investigation into white terrorism and art forgeries with 5 Eyes. One of your old lot, you know,” Hephzibah’s boss winks as if he was letting her in on the national secrecy act.

“Marcus Pike?” Hephzi shoots you a surreptitious look before the smile is back, “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sir. Shame we haven’t crossed paths before now.”

Marcus offers his hand in greeting to Hephzibah, “I hope we can put that right in the future. I was wondering if we could hear from your work experience person. I am always open to fresh eyes.”

Dread courses through your veins as you turn towards Marcus, not wanting to look him in the face, “It would be remiss of me to make a declaration without reading through and tracking back the provenance as well as undertaking the necessary infrared and paint samples.”

“Sensible,” Marcus nods, his face not betraying a single emotion.

Your face creases at his lack of response, something that Hephzi’s boss picks up on, “Are you alright, dear? You don’t look terribly well.”

“Sudden headache, sir. I should probably get going for today anyway,” you virtually throw Hephzi’s notebook at her before grabbing your bag, “Thank you for today, I will be in touch, Hephzibah.”

Running out of the building as fast as your feet and lungs can carry you, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket.

Sir Agent Marcus Pike:

Hey,

We need to talk. My office at 5?

You:

...

Tag list of glory (as ever, please ask to be put on or dropped from the list): @astroboots @silverwolf319 @sirowsky @leonieb @disgruntledspacedad @bison-writes @the-ginger-hedge-witch @danniburgh @day-off-inkyoto @green-socks @tardisfangurl @absurdthirst @mrsparknuts @zukoyonce @yespolkadotkitty @lunaserenade @theravenreads @honestly-shite @sharkbait77 @lawfulgranola @agirllovespancakes @theravenreads @lv7867 @ezrasbirdie @songsformonkeys

#pedro pascal #josé pedro balmaceda pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #ppascaledit #pedro pascal smut #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #the mentalist fanfic #the mentalist #marcus pike x oc #marcus pike x oc reader #marcus pike x fem!reader

[makeste]

literally just a giant post of Bakugou faces.

today, 4/20 (actually it is very much still only 4/19 over here, but to heck with it, we’re getting an early start dammit), is Bakugou Katsuki’s birthday. and as someone who loves Bakugou and who also hasn’t found much worth rejoicing about in April 2020 in general, it’s important to me to celebrate the shit out of this day. but these are strange times and I am le tired, and so what my tired brain ended up arriving at was “just do a post about how much you love his stupid face.”

so these are my favorite Bakugou faces. I stopped after Kacchan vs. Deku because this post was already like 100k words (slight exaggeration) with like 40,000 faces (slight), and because this already took forever and the next 130-something chapters were only going to have about one fifth as many good faces compared to the first 120, even though there are some good ones there still to be sure. but anyway, so there are no spoilers here. 

happy birthday Kacchan, and happy birthday to Kacchan’s angsty side profile with his hair covering his eyes.

why I like it: he scured.

lol but seriously. because up until this point he’s just been a complete asshole. even after he gets grabbed by sludgeman, he’s all “AS IF I’D LET THIS MUDMAN TAKE MY BODY FOR HIMSELF”, and he’s all feral-looking, and at first you’re like “eh he’ll be fine.” but then along comes this panel to serve as our narrator saying “he was not fine.” because he really is not. and on the page before this too, you can see how tired and desperate his struggles are starting to get. and absolutely no one is trying to help him. and he’s fighting, he’s straining, but he can’t. fucking. breathe.

and then this panel. and he’s just a kid. he looks so very, very young here, like this is the youngest he looks throughout the entire series except for in his flashbacks, and it’s because all the pride and bluster and anger are stripped away and he’s just a boy underneath it and he’s scared. “you looked like you needed saving.” exactly. exactly. and for Katsuki to actually ask for help is so rare. so you know that when he does ask (and he absolutely was begging for someone to come help him even though he couldn’t vocalize it. credit to Horikoshi for conveying all of that emotion in a single panel), he really, really needs it. thankfully there was one person watching who finally snapped himself out of that “a hero’s bound to come along soon” mindset that had everyone else gripped, and realized that he needed to be that hero.

why I like it: because he’s humiliated and fairly shaken up and also the most handsome he’s looked up until this point, but most of all he’s just chewing his lip and being all “god fucking dammit did fucking Deku really just save me, fuck my life, why is the universe fucking dumb.” like even after this hugely traumatizing experience, he’s incredibly resilient to the point where after he calms down, his lingering emotions are mainly just “smdh this is a new level of irritated even for me.” he is so brave and thickheaded and tough and absurdly, ridiculously petty jesus christ.

why I like it: like the old man said. his face just screams “I’m a rotten thief.”

there’s so much personality in this one expression. and then it’s juxtaposed against proto!Katsuki who I really desperately just want to punch in the face. just. my son my be a dick, but by god he’s an honest dick.

why I like it: baby?? cute baby??? mine?? my baby?!?

he’s just like. “I got it all figured out. gosh I’m so good at life.” that is the face of a child who has never encountered a single difficulty in his very young existence. everything is easy and he expects to be good at everything and he always is and he’s so, so pleased with himself. with a kid that little you really don’t want to go and shatter their dreams just yet, but maybe someone should have taken him down just a peg or two before it all got out of hand. alas. he was so cute that nobody wanted to and I can’t even blame them because he’s just that fucking cute, though.

why I like it: this is a very underrated panel which I think most people probably don’t even recall. it’s from chapter 11 just after he loses to Deku and Iida, and specifically right after Momo just completely lays into him and explains in vivid detail exactly how stupid every single one of his decisions was lmao. and it’s like he’s just had his eyes opened. he talks about her speech later, too, so it clearly had an impact.

there is no pride here at all. initially when I was reading this, I thought he was still shell-shocked. but looking back at it, and knowing what I do now about his unexpected willingness to accept criticism (something I certainly wouldn’t have expected during my first readthrough of this chapter), I think this is also a genuine “!” face as he realizes that she’s completely fucking right. YOU DONE GOOFED SON. but it’s okay because he learned from it!

also look how big his eyes are. when they get all wide like that. it’s so rare that I have to appreciate each and every time it happens. also he has no right to have such thick eyelashes. goddammit.

why I like it: because he’s strongest at his moment of weakness! because he’s upset but he learned from it! because he is such a strikingly human character with such complex emotions and there’s such a lovely mix of them on display here and that shit is my weakness! because this is when I signed the adoption papers (well, had them finalized after I initially obtained them after the “you looked like you needed saving” face in chapter 1, at least)!! because he always cries in front of Deku and doesn’t get embarrassed, but then he does get embarrassed if anyone else shows up! because his emotions around Deku are so raw and out of control! because the intensity of them is as compelling as it is confusing! but mostly because someone showing fierce determination while simultaneously showing intense vulnerability is basically the cheat code to unlocking my heart, and also the best thing anyone can ever draw in a shounen manga. thank you I’ll take infinity of them.

why I like it: because half of 1-A saw this face and instantly thought “fuck that’s hot” and then went “!! oh fuck me” but it was too late! that’s right kids. even knowing firsthand what a trashpile he can be, you’re still not immune to his charms. that confidence, though.

why I like it: the face of a boy who has just realized that holy shit, there are other people in his class. nothing gets past him. his reflexes are too fast.

why I like it: the slow motion (this is such a cool moment even if it’s at his expense lol), and the fact that this is such a weird and totally unique expression, and yet he somehow almost manages to make it look good. actually he does make it look good, let’s be real. of course, this was back when Horikoshi had more time to roll up his sleeves and really get into the art. look at all that shading goddamn.

why I like it: he cares!! he has feelings!! he has concern about someone other than him omfg whaaaaaat.

he’s so unsettled by what he just heard about Todoroki. the guy who was so strong and cool turned out to have an absolutely horrifying shounen protagonist past that he never let on about. honestly this scene is one of the reasons why I’m so strongly in favor of not interpreting Katsuki’s parents as abusive; because I just really like the character arc of him actually having a pretty good childhood, all things considered, but still having all these problems. because sometimes people actually do have everything going for them and yet they still screw up, because people are only human and sometimes you can fuck up (or be fucked up) even on easy mode! and if that happens it doesn’t mean you’re any more to blame, or more worthy of derision or scorn, or that you already had your chance so screw you, or any of that! anyway so that’s just such an interesting and relatively rare thing to explore and so I like it.

anyway. so just, the idea of him thinking of Todoroki as someone who had it made all his life, only to realize that’s not actually the case at all and that he’s actually the privileged one in comparison, just makes for a really great character-building moment. it’s a really big wake up call for him, especially given that he’s so often just wrapped up in himself and his own concerns still at this stage of the game. and it’s a moment that has a lasting impact on him and that he doesn’t forget, and it helps contribute to him starting to learn more empathy.

why I like it: my child is rabid please help.

but he’s so happy to have Ochako prove to be such an unexpectedly worthwhile opponent. she was sneaky and she nearly got him and he only just made it out by the skin of his teeth and fuck yes, that was awesome. he was really ready to throw down some more with her and it was gonna be the highlight of his fucking day. I just love seeing him acknowledge other people’s strength, because we know the value he places on being strong. so that’s a ton of respect from him, and Ochako fucking earned it, and this is just a great moment.

why I like it: just casually spittin facts and launching ships. nothing to see here move along.

why I like it: for everyone reblogging that one scene of shoujou!Bakugou from the anime over and over again, I just want to remind you all that as great as that scene is, we shouldn’t forget that in the manga he can be effortlessly handsome without even trying.

why I like it: as I said above.

why I like it: another one of the infamous “haah!?” faces. whenever he does these that one raised-eyebrow eye always goes so wide, and even though he’s trying to look like a pissed off thug it always makes him look surprisingly young instead.

also I’m not crazy for seriously wondering if Horikoshi’s art peaked all the way back in the sports festival arc though, right?? you honestly can’t find a bad panel even if you specifically go out and look for them.

why I like it: babyyyy.

I still don’t get how anyone could watch this scene and not get that he was way more upset than he was actually angry. he looks like he’s about to cry honestly.

why I like it: MY PRECIOUS SON’S ANGELIC SLEEPING FACE. all tuckered out. he’s had a hard day.

but seriously when you smooth out all of the >:O it is amazing how young he actually looks though. this one panel is shaded in such a way that you can see that he still has baby fat in his cheeks!! he’s just a little boy! HE IS A LITTLE CHILD LIKE THE REST OF THEM AND YOU MADE HIM PARTICIPATE IN THESE HUNGER GAMES AND HE KICKED ASS AND THEN GOT SAD AND YOU MADE HIM SLEEP AND CHAINED HIM TO A POST WHEN HE WOKE UP ANGRY AND TRYING TO BITE PEOPLE. anyways what a whirlwind of events huh.

why I like it: this child is literally trembling. he has been shaken to his very core. also for real though how did Jeanist even do that. anyways great internship or greatest internship.

why I like it: this is from chapter 60, right after he basically declares war on Deku and says he’ll crush him during final exams. then he turns around and is just like AND LET’S NOT FORGET THIS ASSHOLE HERE!!! and his eyes are practically bulging out and Todoroki just has his trademark “!!!” totally blank stare. this panel fully kills me guys.

why I like it: how was he THE CUTEST CHILD WHO EVER LIVED?? look at his little fists?! I can’t even deal with this???

why I like it: I actually like this one even more than the more iconic “the strongest heroes always win in the end” panel right below it, because in this panel you can more clearly see that he was crying quite a lot (he was only six!!), but it seems to me that it was more because of the unfairness of it than because he was hurt. even though he was hurt. but these jerks bumped into him and then acted like it was his fault, and it was two against one and he was much younger than them and IT’S JUST ROUGH YOU GUYS! LIFE IS HARD WHEN YOU’RE SIX! but he’s a little tough guy though so he scrubs the tears away in this very clumsy and boyish fashion because HE WON ANYWAY SO TAKE THAT! he is so little but already so determined.

why I like it: his eyes are just so intense all the time. even when it’s not an intense moment at all. also the dot shading here is so cool.

why I like it: okay so technically it’s the back of his head and not his face. but I feel like the fact that Kacchan was twitching and flinching and shaking too doesn’t get enough attention in this scene. he and Todo were both wigging out here and I love it. during the third light novel he also gets freaked out by the whole Disney Channel “we were telling a ghost story but now it seems like the story has come to life” plot that goes on at one point, just fyi. Kacchan is absolutely that kid who will refuse to watch scary movies just because “they’re dumb” and definitely NOT because he is scared, how fucking dare you sir.

why I like it: because this is the first of many scenes in this arc and the next arc in which he is freaking out but doing an excellent job of covering it up with his natural ferocity. he and Shouto have just come across one of their classmates’ arms lying in the middle of the path being chewed on by a villain in a straitjacket. his first reaction is to ask Shouto which of their classmates had been out on the path in front of them. he has immediately put two and two together, and he is immediately ready to throw hands with this dude, rules or no rules. but you can see the shading over his eyes though, and I think that -- along with the sweat visible on his face -- is a huge indicator of how horrifying this actually is to him.

why I like it: because this blank “processing...” expression that he sometimes gets when a lot of people are talking at once and he’s not really sure but he is pretty sure that he doesn’t like where this is heading, is my favorite.

why I like it: because even now it’s still ambiguous just what exactly was the prevailing emotion in these eyes and this expression, and the prevailing sentiment behind the “stay back.” I happen to think it was fear! not the same overwhelming, helpless fear as the 14-year-old who was caught up in the sludge, but a very on-edge, controlled-panic fear of a 16-year-old who’s trying to remain in control because he’s a hero in training now. and I think the “stay back” is the “stay back” of a boy who knows the look in that other boy’s eyes, and knows that it’s no use this time. it’s not protective, and it’s not hostile or defensive either. it’s just... resigned. don’t do it, Deku. that could have been the last thing he ever said to him, and it was measured and brave even through his fear and I love him so much.

why I like it: this is one which has to be viewed in juxtaposition with the panel immediately above it lol. Tomura looks like he could literally stare a man to death with those crazy eyes, and Kacchan is comparison just looks so ridiculously young and small and out of his league. but he doesn’t crack. but his eyes are super wide and even the shadows underneath them are stressed almost to their breaking point. like I’m screwed I’m screwed I’m so goddamn fucking screwed oh shit. my baby, guh. this was such a fucking scary experience though for real??

why I like it: same deal as above lol. this whole situation just keeps getting worse and worse, and here he’s just probing for more information while simultaneously trying to buy himself more time to think of a miracle plan. there really isn’t much chance of him getting out of here unscathed at this point (or at least there wouldn’t have been if the heroes hadn’t shown up), but I don’t think he’s letting himself think about that yet. but I’m sure it’s there at the back of his mind all the same.

why I like it: this is my favorite Bakugou face ever. SO MANY EMOTIONS. All Might came to save him! his hero!! he beat the bad guys (or so they think for that brief moment anyway) and it’s all okay now! he was alone but now he’s not anymore and All Might is there! and he is relieved, and he actually lets his guard down to show it for just a split second! his lip is trembling! I don’t think he even realizes for a moment, and then he does, and he immediately goes all tough guy again and the moment is gone! but while it’s there! it’s so much! I have never so badly wanted to hug a fictional character in my life.

why I like it: don’t you think this person could one day inspire thousands of others. do you see this courage in those eyes. the way he pushes past fear and panic and fatigue. don’t think, don’t doubt. just win.

why I like it: by now you have probably detected a pattern of me liking all of the Kamino faces because he was going through so many emotions that for once the walls just couldn’t keep up. he always looks so much younger when he’s not making >: faces. everything just smooths out. I also like that Horikoshi never makes his expressions symmetrical; he almost always has one eye wider than the other, eyebrows doing different things, stuff like that.

also this is when he sees All Might’s true form for the first time, and you can just see it hit him like a punch to the gut. All Might weakened; All Might weakened because of him; All Might might lose (!?!); All Might might die???? Katsuki’s entire world is falling apart in an instant, and in this moment he’s just a little boy.

why I like it: it beginsss. the angstening.

he’s not even resisting the hand guiding him. none of his usual unruliness or general aura of barely-checked rage. he just looks tired. and completely lost in his own thoughts. which as we now know were not good. I cannot fucking believe we had to wait another 25 chapters after this to finally get this kid a damn hug.

why I like it: because Bakugou Mitsuki is fulfilling my (and dating sim!Momo’s) lifelong dream of ruffling Bakugou Katsuki’s (spiky yet fluffy!!) hair. and all he can do is just chew his lip and halfheartedly glare at her all “mooooooOOOOmmm.” he doesn’t even really look pissed off here (because it’s hard to be mad when someone is talking about how worried they were about you and how relieved they are that you’re safe now, especially when that someone is your mom who isn’t normally the type to be so open about this kind of stuff at all), just begrudgingly grumpy. and I swear to god his bottom lip is made of fucking rubber the way he moves it around, just look at it.

why I like it: those eyelashes though!?!? [grabs Katsuki by the shoulders and shakes him roughly] WHY ARE YOUR EYES SO PRETTY.

why I like it: this is right after he found out he flunked the license exam, and you can see how upset he is. obviously we now know that shortly thereafter he went and had a complete meltdown. and buddy if you keep grinding your teeth like that, your dentist is also going to have a meltdown.

and yet again Horikoshi manages to strike this uncanny balance between making him look pissed off and making him look like he’s trying very, very hard not to cry. he just failed, again. it’s like the whole world is screaming at him over and over again that he’s not hero material at all.

why I like it: because he drags Deku out to the middle of nowhere and is all “I know you have All Might’s power and we’re gonna fight”, and Deku protests, and you expect Kacchan’s reaction to be just about anything other than what it actually is. this is as close to pleading as Katsuki is ever going to get. he may not be drowning in sludge but he is still desperate.

why I like it: this may be the best Katsuki that Horikoshi has ever drawn.

why I like it: super ultra mega unpopular opinion: I like this panel even more than THE PANEL!! that follows shortly after it. I am a sucker for when Horikoshi does this thing where he shows Katsuki’s face from a side profile, and his eyes are covered by his hair so you can’t see his full expression, but you know it is something vulnerable because he only ever does this when Katsuki is trying to hide his vulnerability. I could make a whole separate post just about these hair-covering-eyes faces lol. but out of all of them this is my absolute favorite. I can hear Okamoto’s voice acting in my head just looking at it.

why I like it: because it is THE PANEL. he finally broke completely; he let the walls fall away; he couldn’t hide it any longer. he’s so unbelievably torn up about this; he hates himself for it and feels like a failure; he’s lost and doesn’t have the faintest idea how to find his path again. he ended the Symbol of Peace. he was weak and wrong, and Deku was strong and right, and he can’t even hate Deku for it anymore, he just wants to understand what it is that he keeps doing wrong, why it is that he keeps failing.

why I like it: it’s, uuuuuh, angst.

lol it’s funny because at the beginning of the series, it was always Deku who was always crying at the drop of a hat. and to be fair this is still true. but Katsuki also cries way more than I would ever expect a rival character in a shounen manga to cry. and specifically he has cried every single time he’s had a dramatic and overly emotional altercation like this with Deku (and that’s three separate times now). is it because he’s always felt like he has less to hide around Deku? or because his Deku Emotions are so much more intense and volatile than his other emotions? at any rate, whatever it is, if this happens one more time (and I guarantee you it will too because A Certain Someone still hasn’t officially made an apology yet) he will officially lose all authority to ever call Deku out for being a crybaby again. meanwhile poor All Might will just be beside himself. I’m sorry dude, both of your children are just like this, you just gotta deal with it and accept their feelings.

why I like it: HE FINALLY GOT HIS HUG, BLESS.

and more hair covering his eyes! and chewing of the lip! and his head is bowed so much here, he fully allowed himself to be pulled into this hug and to accept this gesture of comfort for once in his life, just for a moment! after everything he was feeling, everything he was beating himself up over, All Might comes and tells him it’s not your fault. and there’s still so much guilt there, but he needs to hear this so badly that he accepts it all the same. meanwhile he is also CRYING AGAIN!? because this was the chapter where Horikoshi said “I am going to put all of the angst and cathartic conflict resolution into a single fight and it’s going to be the best thing ever” and it really was. do you even understand how much I love this. do you??

why I like it: OH GOSH I FORGOT ABOUT THIS, THIS IS MY OTHER FAVORITE KATSUKI HAIR-COVERING-EYES PANEL.

oh no. he’s ruffling his own spiky fluffy hair. he’s tired and he’s beat up (and whose fault is that lmao) and he’s learning all kinds of new things about himself today. he’s got basically nothing left in the tank, but for the first time in ages he has his path laid out in front of him again and he knows the way to start moving forward. he has been absolved of his guilt, the guilt which was eating a hole away inside of him. and all of a sudden he realizes -- it occurs to him -- hey, All Might finally admitted it, he really did give his power to Deku. but it’s still a secret though, isn’t it? it’s important, isn’t it? and so he tells them, hey, look, I get it, I won’t say anything, you don’t have to worry. it’s partially gratitude -- he owes so much to All Might and it’s ridiculous, that’s a fucking debt right there, and this is the least and only thing he can offer right now in return -- and it’s partially just... the right thing to do. like, common sense. honorable and shit. and it’s not like it’s a big deal or anything. but just, let them know.

I love his side profile so much and I love his hair and his ear and the scuffs on his face and his beaten up hand and his hunched up shoulders and him being soft and trying not to show how soft he’s being and he is precious.

BONUS:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY HANDS IN POCKETS GRUMPY TRIANGLE EYES ROVING FERAL HOG SON, I LOVE YOU.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #bakugou katsuki #makeste reads bnha #HEAVEN #MUST BE MISSIN' AN ANGEL #MISSIN' ONE ANGELLLL CHILDDDD #[camera pans over to the feral toddler digging through trash while I sigh in fondness] #bnha meta #bakugou meta

[thefloorisbalaclava]

Ok I would be the happiest if you could do 59. “You own my heart.” & 80. “Lets run away together” with Javi - maybe something soft but angsty? Whatever you think works! I love your writing 💕

A/N: Once I saw these two prompts the ideas for the story I wanted to write for them started flowing and this has honestly been one of my favorite things to write. This fic also comes with some beautiful art drawn by my amazingly talented friend @minilev. She offered to draw something for me and I have never been more honored! Thanks again Anna! And thank you Jessica for such great and inspirational prompts. I hope you enjoy! :)

Javier stood by the window as he reached into his pocket and took out the little box that he had been carrying around with him for the past few days. This little box held a lot of weight. It might have been heavier than anything he's ever carried besides the weight of his sins...and that's what worried him the most. You could say no. You could laugh in his face and tell him that he didn't deserve you--and the truth was: he didn't. He didn't feel worthy of your love. He didn't even deserve the way you smiled at him or laughed at his jokes. 

But you loved him--that much he knew. He didn't quite understand why or how someone as good, as sweet, as you could possibly feel anything for him, but you did and that had been enough.

He was going to ask you tomorrow. He was tired of putting it off. You would either accept or reject him and it was time to find out.

It didn't happen. No. Something stopped him once again and now he sat at your bedside, staring at your sleeping form. He watched your stomach closely to make sure you were still breathing, still holding on. For him. He asked, no, begged you to hold on for him. He didn't deserve that either, but he needed some hope. Any kind of hope that kept him sane. Steve told him to go home and get some rest, but he refused. What if you woke up and he wasn't there?

The doctors told him that you were lucky to be alive and he was tired of hearing that. They told him that the bullet had just missed a major artery. If he could've taken that bullet for you, he would have. A hundred times over. The beeping. He wished it would stop. He wished you would move. He wished he would have asked you sooner.

---

You woke up in a strange place. This wasn't your bedroom...and there was beeping and tubes and…

Javier.

He had been standing at the window looking sadder than you had ever seen him. His eyes were puffy and while one hand rested against the window the other was on his hip. Typical. You smiled or at least you thought you had. Then you tried to call his name, but you had no voice. It came out as a whimper but he must have heard you because he stood up straighter and turned to you slowly.

"Ja...vi…"

He looked as though he would burst into tears at any moment just hearing you say his name again. He ran to your side and sat down on the bed carefully.

"Shhh...don't try to talk. Just keep your eyes open for me, hm? Keep looking at me." He needed that. Oh, how he missed the way you looked at him. 

The doctors and nurses came in soon after and they had to pull him away from you. He hated how they poked and prodded at you and voiced his complaints.

"Do you really have to do all that to her? She just woke up." It took three nurses and security to keep him where he was.

"Javier?" you called out for him.

"She...she needs me." He pushed past everyone to get to you. He held your hand tightly and kissed it. "I'm here, mi amor. I'm here."

It felt like forever before they all left you alone again. You were relieved to have most of those tubes and machines off you. The only thing bothering you now was the pain, but the nurse made sure she gave you something to keep you comfortable.

"When's the last time you slept, Javi?" you asked, your voice still rough from not being used.

"I don't know. It doesn't matter. I didn't wanna miss this."

"Well, you know I'm gonna be okay now. You should go home and rest." You squeezed his hand and smiled at him. He stayed quiet for a while, content with just watching you and knowing that you were still here. The words that came out next were so unlike him that he even shocked himself.

"Let's run away together."

You looked at him and giggled. "Now, I know you need to sleep…"

"No. I'm serious. I want to get you the hell out of here, out of Colombia."

When you realized he was serious, you sat yourself up against the pillows better. "Where would we even go?"

"You could come back to Texas with me. Yeah. And-and we could start that farm that you always wanted. Remember telling me about that? We could have horses, cows, chickens...whatever." The smile on his face had to be the loveliest thing you had seen since you woke up.

"You remembered that?" Your voice cracked and he looked down at you.

"I remember everything you say to me." He cleared his throat and looked away as he sniffled. "I thought I lost you and I...I can't, you understand? I wouldn't know what to do…"

"Shhh...come here." You held your arms out and he laid his head on your chest, closing his eyes to the sound of your heart beating.

"I don't know how to be without you anymore. Who else is gonna tell me to get some sleep?" He chuckled then nuzzled you.

"I love you, Javier Peña." It felt good to say those words again. You weren't sure how long it had been since you last spoke them, but saying it again felt wonderful.

"I love you more." That weight still hung heavy in his pocket. Now wasn't the time. He was content with you just holding him.

---

You had been home for a few weeks now. Javier watched you closely and made sure you didn't do anything that would cause overexertion. If he could, he probably would have carried you everywhere. 

The little apartment was full of balloons and flowers and baskets of things that you probably won't ever eat, but you appreciated every single thing. People out there really cared about you. But no one more than Javier. He just wanted to hold you and kiss you and make love to you every chance he got. Some days you just stayed in bed with him all day. He had been lucky enough to get some time off to take care of you.

"I can stay like this forever," you told him as he laid with you in bed after a bath.

"Do you mean stay naked in bed with me or just...with me?" he asked.

"Hmm...both." You both chuckled then you looked at him. "Honestly, I just love being with you. You've been amazing through all of this and I love you so much."

"I love you, too." He kissed you and one thing led to another. He was careful and gentle.

When you eventually got out of bed and put clothes on, Javier seemed to be lost in his thoughts. He sat on the end of the bed looking off at nothing as he buttoned his shirt.

"You okay?" you asked and walked over to sit in his lap. He laid his head on your chest and sighed.

"I don't know…"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong I just...can't believe how in love I am. You own my heart."

"And you own mine, Javi. Always." You kissed his forehead then stood up but before you could walk away he took hold of your hand.

"Wait." He stood and made his way over to where his jacket was hanging. Reaching into the pocket, he looked back at you nervously. Once he turned around and your eyes moved back and forth between looking at his face and looking at the little box in his hand.

"Javier...wh-what is that?" You pointed awkwardly. You knew exactly what it was.

"It's been awhile since the last time I did this and that didn't end well at all…" You made a face and he quickly corrected himself. "But with you I know I'll be better. Everything will be better...especially me. You've already made me a better man but if you say yes then I know I can become the best man I can be for you and...myself." He fiddled with the little box. "I've had this for months, you know?"

"Really?" you cried.

"Yeah and I was gonna ask you the day that...that…" He couldn't even say it.

"That I got shot," you finished for him and he nodded.

"And I'm sorry that this isn't romantic and we're not on some fancy date but...we have here and now. So...what do you think? Trust me, I know I don't deserve you but I want to spend the rest of my life making myself worthy of your love."

"This isn't right," you said and his shoulders sagged. "First of all, you didn't technically ask. Secondly, you do deserve me, Javier...more than anyone ever has."

He sighed in relief and moved closer to you before getting down on one knee and opening the box in his hand. He took a deep breath and swallowed hard as he looked up into your eyes. "Will you marry me?"

"Yes, I will. I will marry you, Javier Peña."

"Really? Are you sure?" The nearly slipped out of his hand.

"Yes! Now put that ring on my finger!"

"Oh...yeah...that's right, the ring." His hands trembled as he removed it from its place in the box. He finally did it and you actually said yes. The ring was finally where it belonged. He stood and wrapped his arms around you tightly. "You...you said yes."

"I said yes." You looked at the ring and laughed as he picked you up and spun with you.

"Mrs. Peña has a nice ring to it, don't you think?" he asked and you pouted as he put you back on your feet.

"Maybe I want to keep my last name and just hyphenate it...or maybe I was planning on having you take my last name." You walked out of the room and he followed closely, grabbing you from behind and kissing your cheek as you yelped.

"You can call yourself whatever you like as long you're waking up next to me every morning."

You turned and gave a quick yet passionate kiss. "I think Mrs. Peña works just fine."

#Javier Peña #Javier Peña x reader #Narcos #Pedro Pascal #headcanon #prompt #opheliaelysia

[lilydalexf]

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with Piper Sargasso

Piper Sargasso has 25 stories at Gossamer, but don’t miss her website where the fics each have cover collage art. If you are a fan of Mulder/Scully romance, there are a lot of MSR fics to read that are set in different seasons of the show. But like the show that never stuck to one type of story, Piper’s stories have variety, so you can also find AUs and /Other.  Big thanks to Piper for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

It does, but I love that people are still into it! Writers back in the day put so much work and love into their writing, and it's nice to know that the stories are still being appreciated to this day. As for my own stories, it puts a huge smile on my face to know there are still people out there checking them out and hopefully enjoying them.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

It was such a positive period of my life. I made some amazing friends who became something like older sisters (and some brothers) to me, even though I was a little ridiculous when I was in my early to mid-twenties. It was also a much-needed confidence booster. I was a pretty shy person and loved writing, but never had the nerve to show anything to anyone. My first fanfic was completely horrible, but because of it I made my first XF friend and super beta, Mimic117. Between her guidance and the encouraging words from my Yahoo group I was able to do something I really loved and felt great about myself and my abilities for the first time. That will stay with me forever. That first story was truly atrocious, but it was a catalyst for great things in my life when I needed them the most.

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

I remember trying this cool new thing called an AOL chat room, but they were more interested in perving on each other than talking about the show. Once I knew about fanfiction I kept seeing that some of my favorite authors kept mentioning IWTBXF in their notes, a Yahoo group named I Want to Believe. I looked it up, joined, and with great trepidation made my introductory post. Everyone was so warm and welcoming, and talking to my favorite authors in the group was a little like meeting a celebrity and finding out that they're awesome in real life. After IWTBXF fell apart, an off-shoot called Beyond the Sea was created with almost all of the original group transferring over. I stuck to my little family there and didn't branch out into much else, other than the rare dip into Haven. Ephemeral and Gossamer, of course.

What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

Mostly the overwhelming feeling of acceptance and confidence to write, something I was sorely lacking before in my life. I fell in with the best group, that's for sure! They made me feel like being a professional writer could be an achievable goal.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

The commercial advertising. The pilot spoke to my supernatural-loving, angsty 15 year-old soul. I watched it religiously every week. There was nothing like it. It was off-beat, but serious (most of the time) and fulfilled my insatiable craving for the paranormal and weird. You just couldn't get that from Melrose Place and Beavis and Butthead, you know? It definitely helped that David Duchovny was adorable and the character of Scully was the strong and intelligent icon we needed in the 90's and beyond.

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

In high school I had a friend who was as obsessed with the show as I was. Maybe more, since she once had a slumber party that was exclusively to binge watch her taped episodes (the other girls who wanted to mess around with spells and the Ouija board weren't thrilled that she couldn't be swayed away from it) and she often drove me from play rehearsals in her convertible with the top down and the theme song blasting to the heavens, much to my delight and mortification. A couple years after we graduated she told me about the piece of fanfic she wrote. Insert a record screech here. What?! You mean there are thousands of stories dedicated to my favorite show? And hundreds more get added every month?! I was obsessed. If I could've stopped working and slept at my computer desk I would have.

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

Sadly it's nonexistent these days. I have great memories and it holds a big piece of my heart, but I haven't been active in a long time. I would love to see a huge revival, and would definitely want to be involved in that in some way, were it to happen.

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

I read a lot of Harry Potter fanfiction for a while, but I never could expend the kind of energy and time I did for the X-Files fandom. It came at a perfect time in my life, and so far nothing else has measured up to it.

Who are some of your favorite fictional characters? Why?

Besides XF characters? Off the top of my head I really love Hermione Granger, Buffy Summers, Elizabeth Bennet, and Claire Fraser for their sass and strength of character, Severus Snape for his complexity, and Christina Ricci's version of Wednesday Addams for her pure awesomeness. She's pretty much my spirit animal.

Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?

I do occasionally. I watched the series from season 1-7 so many times that I started to burn out, but I get on my X-Files kicks sometimes and binge it again.

Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

Like with the show, I'll get nostalgic and need to consume all the fanfics my greedy little eyes can behold until I move on to something else. It can feel a little lonely though, if you'll excuse the drama. We're not in the heyday anymore, so it feels a little like walking through a ghost town. Many of the stories out there are suspended in time because the show ended, or people stopped writing.

Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?

I know I have dozens, but I'm drawing a blank. My ultimate favorite is any well-written MSR casefile with UST finally resulting in RST. Those are my unicorns!

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

I have a silly one called Baby, It's Cold Outside that I sometimes read around Christmastime. It was a fluffy song-fic, but I can see the scene so clearly in my mind when I read it and it's just pure fun. I also like my Donnie Pfaster series. I can see the potential in my writing with those, which makes me feel I could really write something special someday. Plus, he's such an interesting little slimeball to write and read about. Bless his heart.

Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?

I still think about the two WIPs I haven't finished. I wrote myself into a corner with This Mortal Coil, and honestly I think it needs a total overhaul. I think Dana Scully's Diary would be a fun one to finish. I hate that I never finished them.

Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

I think about writing fanfic now and then and I've had a couple original novels sketched out, but there are so many other demands on my time that I haven't gotten very far. I still plan to see the novels through, even if no one but interested friends and family read them.  

Where do you get ideas for stories?

I used to watch an episode and really study the actors' expressions and actions, always trying to find new angles to the stories we all know. A lot of times things would just come to me and I'd get so excited I couldn't sleep until I wrote a good chunk of it down.

What's the story behind your pen name?

The friend who introduced me to fanfic told me the best way to choose a pen name was to make sure it derives from the show. For a couple days I looked at the titles and summaries of episodes and agonized over just the right name. Finally Piper Maru and the summary from Triangle, which mentions the Sargasso sea, stood out and just clicked.

Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions?

My now husband always knew, and he thought it was cool that I had a hobby that made me so happy, but he was never a reader. My parents found out when I was about 24 and my step-dad would tell EVERYONE about it, much to my horror. Most reactions were of the bland, "Oh yeah? That's nice." variety but I definitely got some weird looks from others. The worst was when I found out how much of my racier MSR stories my parents read. My step-dad thought it was hilarious and teased me a little. My usually open-minded mom was uncomfortable, but tried to be supportive. It's all fun and games until your daughter starts writing psuedo-erotica for anyone to see!

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

Circe Invidiosa very generously hosts a page for me at http://pipers.invidiosa.com.

(Posted by Lilydale on January 26, 2021)

#new post #old school x #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #xf fanfic author interviews #piper sargasso

[julesby10]

i am easy to find

A/N: Hello again! Here’s a very late ShinoMitsu Week Day 2 entry! Prompt was insecurities / healing, taking care of each other.

Slightly more angsty than last time but hey.

Yet again, took inspiration from one of @tanukified ‘s drawings, but the drawing itself couldn’t be farther from what I wrote oops

Rating: G

Tags: Fluff, almost canon compliant, hurt/comfrt, late at night, insecurities

Summary: Shinobu has a tendency to lose track of time, staying up late into the night to work on her notes. Mitsuri is recovering from an injury at the Butterfly Estate.Mitsuri tries to talk Shinobu out of her self-destructive tendencies, but maybe she isn't ready just yet.

AO3 | FF.NET

The hallways of the Butterfly Estate were shrouded in darkness and silence. It was the middle of the night and Mitsuri was being very careful not to make any noise, to avoid disturbing all the other residents who were, supposedly, still sleeping. She usually wasn’t much of a night owl, but she’d abruptly woken up with this weird sense of uneasiness in the pit of her stomach and felt like she needed to get out of the stifling infirmary.

Honestly, she expected to be the only one awake, but a very small part of her wasn’t surprised when she noticed a blade of light coming from under the door of Shinobu’s private study.

Mitsuri should have really gone back to bed, an early morning was waiting for her and she wasn’t even supposed to be up in the first place. Shinobu had very clearly instructed her to rest as much as possible until her shoulder was fully healed. She could feel the bandages brush against the burned skin, but she also knew why Shinobu was awake and she had no intention of leaving her alone.

She headed for the door and carefully slid it open. The room was mostly dark except for the corner where Shinobu’s desk was, her silhouette outlined by the light of a single lantern. She was still wearing her hashira uniform, her haori neatly placed on its stand on the side when Mitsuri was used to seeing it on her shoulders. She cared so much for it and for a reason.

Seeing her at her desk was far from an uncommon occurrence. Shinobu had a bad habit of overworking herself to the point of almost physically collapsing until someone, usually either Mitsuri or Kanao, forced her to rest, sleep, eat. It was a cycle that seemed very hard to actually break. Plus Shinobu was stubborn as much as she was hardworking.

Mitsuri closed the door behind her and took a few steps into the room, fully convinced Shinobu would hear her, as she always did, and scold her for being there. Nothing happened, though, which was odd in and of itself. She got closer to the point she was standing in Shinobu’s peripheral. Still nothing, Shinobu was silently scribbling away at her notes.

“Shinobu?”

Shinobu jumped up from her chair, her pen falling out of her grip and clattering on the ground. Mitsuri looked down with concern in her eyes. Two buttons of her uniform were undone and her sleeves were rolled up which, to anyone else, would have been small details, easy to miss, but to Mitsuri it was a sign that not everything was at it should’ve been. She could count on one hand the times she’d seen Shinobu with a less than perfect attire. And then there were the bags under her eyes and her chapped lips. It looked like she’d been biting on them.

Mitsuri knew first-hand what self-destructive looked like and, even when Shinobu pretended she had it all under control, sometimes it felt like she really didn’t.

When Shinobu registered that it was only Mitsuri next to her she relaxed.

“Heavens, Mitsuri, you scared me.”

She sighed and brought a hand to her temple with a grimace as if trying to keep a headache at bay. Then she lifted her eyes to Mitsuri again and spoke in a rough voice, lower than her usual pitch. Another sign that she was way too tired to be awake.

“What time is it anyway? And why are you up?”

Her notes were scattered all over her desk, countless sheets of paper filled with neat writing, formulas and dosages that would never make any sense to Mitsuri. In all honesty, few could really understand the complicated chemistry Shinobu treaded around so casually. She’d mastered the craft of making poisons to the point where it had become an art. The art of killing.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Mitsuri said softly, placing her hand on Shinobu’s shoulder, dragging her touch over the stiff muscles in her back. “How long have you been up?”

Shinobu seemed to loosen up her posture slightly.

“I don’t know. Yesterday?”

Mitsuri moved her hand to Shinobu’s cheek and Shinobu leaned into the contact, closing her eyes. The small flame of the lantern cast pretty shadows on her skin, but they only highlighted how pale she was.

“Shinobu, it’s almost dawn , you can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

Silence fell between them. They’d talked about this, how pushing herself to her limits was nothing but dangerous. What if Shinobu was suddenly called on an assignment? What if she was too tired to fight? What if she got injured? What if-

“You know I can’t stop,” Shinobu murmured, breaking the quiet. “This is... the only thing I can do.”

Everyone was aware that Shinobu wasn’t physically strong enough to cut a demon’s head off, but no one had ever held that against her. She was perfect with her poisons so there was no reason for critique. Except she didn’t seem keen on thinking the same.

They did share that trait, being too strict on themselves, but Mitsuri had learned to be forgiving thanks to Shinobu and her words, the way she just cared. She had shown Mitsuri that she had value, as a person and not just as a pretty doll to be given away in marriage, that she had no reason to be ashamed of her body or her eating or anything, really. Mitsuri had learned to not resent her strength, she wished Shinobu could learn to not resent her weaknesses either.

Taking another step, Mitsuri pulled Shinobu into a gentle hug. It was at a weird angle, but Shinobu didn’t seem to mind as she gripped the back of Mitsuri’s nightgown. Mitsuri’s heart ached.

“Oh Shinobu, you are so, so much more than the things you can do. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you, how much you mean to me," Mitsuri whispered into her hair.

Shinobu never cried. Shinobu never let down her defenses, except when Mitsuri was there, because Mitsuri was so painfully honest it was hard to hide anything in front of her.

Shinobu didn’t cry, but Mitsuri felt her shake in her embrace, taking deep breaths to calm herself down. The nights that were quiet made it easy to fall apart.

After a few minutes, the room was silent again.

“C’mon,” Mitsuri said, tugging her up and into her arms. "Let's bring you to bed."

Shinobu sighed into the embrace, leaning all her weight into the contact, still careful to avoid Mitsuri’s injured side. If there was one thing Mitsuri was grateful for, it was the way Shinobu had learned, albeit begrudgingly, to lower her walls when it was just the two of them. She loathed feeling weak, yet she allowed Mitsuri to see her when she was not as strong.

“As your doctor, I think you should really go back to the infirmary,” Shinobu murmured in her chest. “But I’ll let it slide this time.”

“As if you’re in any place to say anything about taking care of myself,” Mitsuri retorted, a smile at the corners of her green eyes. The way the light reflected in them was mesmerizing, so much Shinobu could’ve spent the rest of the night like that if only sleep hadn’t been aggressively creeping up her spine. She felt at peace with Mitsuri around.

“Fine, but I’ll need to change your bandages first thing in the morning.”

Shinobu looked beautiful, even with the heavy weight of her worries on her shoulders, even when she was this tired and vulnerable.

“Can’t say no to my doctor, can I?” Mitsuri smiled, then bent down to catch Shinobu’s lips. The kiss was brief, but extremely sweet, as if Shinobu was being careful. Mitsuri didn't have any explanation for that, but, then again, she didn't have an explanation for why Shinobu tasted like flowers either.

When Mitsuri looked again, Shinobu was looking up at her with fondness, a pinch of something Mitsuri couldn't quite recognize in the corner of her amethyst eyes. Sadness maybe?

Shinobu swallowed and her irises seemed to clear. "You know I love you, right?"

Mitsuri smiled softly. "I know," and kissed her again, one hand carefully freeing her hair from the butterfly pin and then placing it on the desk. "And I love you too, so much."

Shinobu smiled then, and Mitsuri knew it was not out of courtesy. It was small, but it was there and it was genuine.

Mitsuri quickly took care of the lantern as Shinobu changed into something that wasn't her uniform. They would need to wake up soon, but it didn't matter, not now. As they lay under the covers, all tangled limbs and warmth, what mattered was that they were together.

As Mitsuri closed her eyes, she noticed the bad feeling that had woken her up was gone.

#shinomitsuweek2020 #shinomitsu #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #shinobu kocho #mitsuri kanroji #kny #kocho shinobu #kanroji mitsuri #kny shinobu #kny mitsuri #kny fic #kimetsu no yaiba fanfiction #my writing

[weeklyfangirl]

Frat Boy Pt. 13

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 (1), part 7 (2), part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12

HI WOW TIME HAS SERIOUSLY FLOWN BY FOR ME - enjoy your fratty frat boy in all his angsty glory ;) Let me know what you guys think I miss you!!

“Down to watch Hocus Pocus and pass out candy to wee ones? My parents invited me down.”

Renny’s eyes softened, imagining the cuteness of last year when a toddler showed up dressed as a magnet with an attached note card saying “chick.”

“Okay, usually, yes, but the-”

“DG’s,” I groaned.

Midterms were creeping up and I was slowly dying between late night grading biology tests and the stress that’d been building up wondering about what in the fuck Harry had going on in his mind. He was hot, he was cold, and I wasn’t sure if this was all a massive game to him. It’d been relatively silent on the Harry front ever since the day of island paradise. The memory of his penetrating eyes examining me on the pier, and the twinge of electricity between us had inspired my wandering fingers more than once. I wouldn’t admit that to him, hell, I could barely admit that to myself.

I’d been too stubborn to text him, but not too stubborn enough to wear his sweatshirt out this morning. If we were friends, wearing his sweatshirt wouldn’t be weird. Technically he’d just invited me to meet his dad, which I admit, stung a bit, but a part of me couldn’t give up that he wasn’t into me. Could eyes lie so easily?

The ball was technically in my court to tell him whether or not I’d be going, so…

I slurped a scalding sip of tea, cringing at the inevitable. “Welp, if you’re going to ditch me for the DGs then I might as well go to Harry’s.”

She smirked, “I know.” 

I smacked her arm. “Is that why you’re ditching me?!”

“Hey, I’m not ditching you. It’s a thing for new recruits. You were invited, too.”

My ear still ringed with my mom’s shrill scream on the other end of the line when I’d told her - though I’m not sure if she’d be more excited by the fact that her daughter was going to visit the Styles residence or a sorority party.

Renny continued, “And please, as if you’d really go hang out at your parent’s alone when you have an offer to play co-host with Mr. Hunky Mystery Man. We’re sad sometimes, but we’re not that sad. Actually…”

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s just… I’m surprised Harry isn’t going to be at the frat’s party.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “He said it was a family tradition.”

Renny’s brows rose at the F word. 

“Okay, but their house is also huge, I doubt it’s going to be an intimate affair.” Truthfully, I was excited to see how their house would be decorated. When I told my mother I probably wouldn’t be coming home to pass out candy, she’d told me not to worry. The neighbors were coming over and they had a couple of cheap wine bottles to drain. I’m sure not telling her I was going to the Styles's house wasn’t going to be that big of a deal.

“Are you kidding me? If Harry hands out a grand to cabana men then I can’t imagine what they’re going to spend on this party. Honestly, I’m kind of jealous.”

“Wait- what? He gave Ben a thousand dollars?”

 “Is Ben the cabana man?”

 “Yes.”

 “Then yes. Or about a grand, I mean I didn’t count it myself but it was a thick. Stack.” Renny’s brows shot up. “You seriously didn’t see that?”

 No wads of cash were in my memories. I was too busy retreating away to the golf cart to notice any grandiose money exchange. Ben’s words when he was saying goodbye to me at the golf cart suddenly flashed in my mind - tell him thank you for me.

 Thank you.

 I hadn’t even assumed the reason why. Probably because out of all things, I wouldn’t have guessed that.

 Renny tapped on her lips, signalling to mine that I painted a nice neutral. “Like the shade. What’s it for?”

 I looked to my watch. “Zayn. And I’m actually going to be late.”

 “Ugh, not fair!! Why can’t I have an artist draw me?”

 “Please, Felix was practically drooling over you last year, and he’s a graphic designer, right? I’m sure he has some sketches of you locked away in a cabinet somewhere.”

 Something that resembled a blush spread on her cheeks.

 “Oh my god. Does he?!”

 “He probably got rid of it by now.”

 I shook my head, scooping up my tea and 50 pound school bag with me. Leave it to Renny to have a collection of men up her sleeve at any given time. Even the beautiful brainy boy.

 “Tell Niall to try drawing,” I called back. The mention of the frat star turned a few heads at the crowded campus coffee shop, and I bit my lip at the scene, skirting across campus to the art studios where people wishing to escape found their haven.

 ---

 “A little to the left,” he murmured. His golden brown eyes peered over the white canvas, tirelessly scrupulous as they focused on each feature, and I felt my heart beat faster at the intensity of attention. “A little up.”

 My head tilted to his command, my exposed neck feeling even more naked as I noticeably swallowed.

 Did he hear that? Did the music need to be played louder?  

 “Beautiful.” He reached for another charcoal pencil in his kit. “Have you been in here before?” His voice gently rose over the Coldplay softly playing from the speaker system.

 “No, not yet,” I admitted. “I was going to take a ceramics class, but I dropped it the first week. Not exactly the sculptor type.”

 “So you’re not the artist, more the painting?”

 My brows furrowed. “What?”

 “I’m taking ceramics,” he said, not bothering to clarify.  

 “Yeah? You like it?”

 He didn’t answer, sweeping his pencil across the page - the aesthetic lulling of the way it scratched along the paper making me realize that yes, he’d definitely heard me gulping earlier.

 The soothing noise didn’t stop, and he didn’t answer for a time that seemed much longer than a minute. I wonder what Harry was doing right now? Was he in class? Practice? Not that I should even be thinking about him.

 The little smug version of me was dancing in my brain, delighting in the fact that somebody else was paying attention to me, that there were other people who found me desirable besides Harry. Sure, this was solely for Zayn’s assignment, and yeah, Harry could easily have any number of women he merely glanced at - but me? I could get by without him just fine, and-

 “Your face comes across so soft on paper. Gentle,” he said, glancing first at his work, then up to me, as if trying to see if the reality mirrored the copy.

 I shifted nervously, but the swivel chair was more sensitive than I’d thought and I almost went flying off the other side. He laughed a bit, before taking his top lip between his fingers.

 “Look, I’ve nearly got this one finished right. I’ve got your basic outline to finish the rest on my own, creative liberties ‘n that, but I’ll need a few more still lifes from you if that’s…”

 “Yeah! That’s fine.”

 “Might be a longshot with the holiday, but do you mind coming in this weekend?”

 Plans of the Styles’ Halloween bash rang as a reminder, and it buzzed throughout my entire body. “I can’t, actually. I’m going to a party, I think.”

 “Really!” he set down the pencil dramatically. “Am I going to see you in a plaid skirt up your bum again, missy?”

 “Ouch, no! But fair. Cringeworthy, but fair.” I slid down the chair, crossing my arms. His eyes didn’t change in their intensity even if he wasn’t holding a pencil. “It’s the Styles’ Halloween bash Saturday. I’m guessing it’s a family-friendly affair so no, I will not be in anything showing any skin, anywhere. I guess they do it every year.”

 Realization sunk in, but it seemed a bit of a show. “Harry, yeah, that’s right. Are you two…?”

 I shook my head, thinking of what Harry must say when (or if) he got asked the same question. There was no doubt in my mind.

 “No.”

 It was some weird “in between” with us, but no was a much easier answer.

 “Right, well, that’ll be interesting then.” He bit his cheek, mulling over something he wasn’t quite sure he should say.

 “What?”

 He opened his mouth, closed it again. “Nothing, it’s just… I can’t imagine what it’s like to be a part of that family. It’s got a lot of history.”

 “Yeah? Like what?”

 “Let’s just say there aren’t that many British boys that get adopted by Americans.”

 I tilted my head back, put off at the slight arrogance in his tone. There was a protective side of me that wanted to rear its head and bristle whenever somebody talked down to Harry, and I wasn’t sure how to put it away.

 “I’m not sure what you mean.”

 “You can look up the story, but-”

 A knock at the door, and a petite black-bobbed Asian girl peered her head in.

 “Hi, I have the room at 5:30.”

 I glanced to the clock on the wall, just a little past.

 “We’re finishing up,” he said. She nodded, not budging. A little territorial over the studio space. Which, I completely get. Once midterm season hits, the library starts to resemble a refugee posting with people camped outside cubicles and “quiet rooms,” hoping for the prior group to leave a little earlier if they didn’t have reservations of their own.

 “Yeah, we’re done.”  I picked up my bag, and put my beanie over my head.

 “Well, I’ll be in touch then. Sometime next week?” He followed me to the door, and placed a hand to my lower back. I stopped, trying to discern if there was something else behind his eyes. Maybe this hadn’t just been for a project.

 But his hand was removed just as quickly, and with a little “See ya,” he closed the door behind me.

 -----------

 Lines of vintage cars parked outside the Styles’s home wasn’t what I’d been expecting when Harry had shot a text that it was a masquerade gala. Maybe it should’ve, but it wasn’t. I squinted my eyes at a woman in a neon vest waving around her flashlight to the approaching cars and signalling them to available spots along the street.

 How was I meant to find him in this madness?

 “Here is fine,” I told the Lyft driver. I’d bit the bullet (or rather, my wallet) to get a ride. I thought I’d bypass the embarrassing “car dying” scenario again and just play it safe. Not that I was expecting to spend the night again… the toothbrush I’d stuffed in my purse screamed otherwise, and seemed to burn a hole into my thigh.

 But still, totally not expecting to spend the night.

 Totally …. not ….

 The sound of the Uber leaving made me realize I was doing this. Again. Willingly walking into the lion’s den simultaneously with at least ten other well-dressed individuals.

 Expect me tonight, I’d sent. It was a little bold. I had to refrain from sending any emojis, but I’d done it. Played it cool.

 Wear a mask, he’d replied. And I felt my stomach drop a little bit. He hadn’t said-

 Cool! Gee, thanks for letting me know! Wow that’s so nice to hear! You made my day!

 No.

 Just a simple three word request. Actually, more like demand. I bristled the same moment my phone buzzed.

 Please.

 I sighed. I guess it was four words.

 Of all the themes to pick though… I rolled my eyes at “masquerade.” Renny had done the opposite, and flew to her dresser, opening a drawer full of toys and masks and - oh my gosh was that a leash? She handed me one, black lace over the eyes that could lift up and over the cat headpiece. I didn’t ask any questions for why she had this so readily available, because guessing from the other contents in the drawer, I already knew the answer.

 “You look-” Renny kissed her fingertips- “Bellissima.”

 Older, sophisticated silver foxes arm-in-arm with their wives took the time to glance at the young woman approaching the estate.

 I blamed it on the deep red dress Renny stole from the theater department (or borrowed as she insisted). It fanned out with dramatic flair like an 18th century production of Shakespeare would - or how our school’s production of Much Ado About Nothing would (which was now short one costume).

 The doors opened to the tinkling of a piano.

 Amidst cocktail waiters weaving between the masked strangers, someone was actually playing it. He had brown curly hair and I practically raced to his side to avoid standing in the foyer alone any longer.

 “I didn’t know you could play.”  

 The man quirked his face, his hands not stopping.

 Even with the mask I could tell it wasn’t Harry.

 “Oh, sorry,” I said, stumbling back.

 Hands gripped my shoulders, as lips went to my ear-

 “Not well.”

 Twisting in his grasp, the familiar curve of his smirk appeared. His green eyes were highlighted by golden flakes etched into a black mask, and my breath quite literally caught in my throat. Somehow, each time, I forgot the magnetism they held. And somehow, each time, I forgot that I was absolute putty in his hands.

 “I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

 Something flashed in his eyes and I knew it didn’t come out right. “The house looks… amazing.”

 I was floundering, FLOUNDERING.

 His nose crinkled the same time he placed a hand to the small of my back. “Too many cobwebs.”

 And without a word, he started leading me through the crowded rooms. Cobwebs over the banister and scary paintings of haunted people replaced the usual art in their home - except for the centered family portrait, intimidatingly framed in gold. The cobwebs were a fitting touch. I wondered how many secrets these walls held, how many years things have been kept in the dark, or swept under the rug.

 Every family had them, but something told me this place had enough storage in all its rooms to hold more than I could imagine.  

 We passed a room set-up with aisles of empty chairs and a projector screen that read “Jane Foundation.” Pamphlets and envelopes were lain on each of the chairs, but we walked too quickly for me to get a closer read.

 “What’s that for?”

 “Later. You don’t know?”

 I shook my head. He slowed to a halt in the hallway.

 “My parents put on a fundraiser every year for the children’s hospital. It’s how we end the evening.”

 My mouth opened and again- floundering. He scratched behind his ear.

 “Yeah, I thought.. I don’t know, I thought everyone knew. But I shouldn’t assume I guess.”

 I just shrugged my shoulders, accepting that his family had the capacity to pull something like this off. That the were pulling this off. That I was even here. Clearly living ten minutes away was certifiably living under a rock.

 He paused, a slight quirk in his lips. With the distraction of the music and the people, I hadn’t had the chance to really look at him. Or him, at me. If anyone ever asked, I’d call him shameless, but I wouldn’t even call it that as he drank me in. It didn’t seem as intentional as that. It was instinctive.

 I drank him in as well, and even if it was just a brief moment facing each other in the hallway with masked strangers streaming through, it felt like it was just him and I. How long had we been like this? Broad shoulders in a nice suit, a tall frame that could cover and protect, brown curls that looked so soft to touch, and eyes that spoke of scary pasts and a soft heart that locked me still in place. He was walking poetry and as much as it made me sick, I didn’t want to stop. I wanted him closer, to lean in closer...

 “Come on,” he murmured, but this time he was in front of me.

 I followed, straight to the dining room.

 “Oh, you are trying to get me to not fit into this dress,” I said. It was full of catered food from the nicest restaurants in Coast Hills. Last time I’d been in this room, it hadn’t been the most comfortable encounter. Now that the corset was digging into my ribs and I was a little short of breath, I predicted I was in for Awkward Dinner Part II.

 “You aren’t hungry?” He faltered, turning to face me.

 I gave a coy smile. “Well I didn’t say that…”

 “Hey! So good to see you.”

 Gemma burst through a small cluster of people, Charlie right behind her. His navy suit matched her slip dress, tapering off at the ends like the foam from a wave.

 She embraced me, Charlie soon after. But it was the same side-hug squeeze that made me remember him. Harry noticed my grimace. Charlie noticed Harry noticing me.

 “All good?” Charlie pulled back.

 “My brother did that all the time,” I said. Harry handed me a glass full of champagne, and I took it, happy to have something else occupy my mouth. I hadn’t expected to say that at all.

 “I didn’t know you had a brother,” Harry said.  

 “You don’t know a lot of things.”

 Gemma perked up. “That’s right, put him in his place.”

 “He’s not around much so, I don’t think to talk about him much.” I left it at that, a slight offering to make Harry feel less offended. His expression was impossible to read, and I wasn’t sure if my words had actually helped or hurt.

 “I have a sister like that. Moved to Lisbon with her boyfriend. We see her on holidays though.” Charlie jumped with a chill. “Jiminy- it’s cold in here, isn’t it?”

 “Have more wine babes, it’ll cheer you up,” Gemma said. And just like me, a champagne flute was suddenly in his hands.

 “Well we were just headed to get some food,” Harry mentioned, eyes slightly widening when they locked with mine - a silent plea to take his cue.

 “Wait! Let me take a picture really quickly.”

 “Gemma,” he sighed.

 “Just a little one! Just a quick...second...” She dug in her purse, struggling to juggle the wine and the mini plate of couscous and falafel.

 I took a step to the side as soon as she pulled the camera out.

 “Hello? Where do you think you’re going? Get back in there.”

 Harry raised his brows to me, both in annoyance and apology. I stood next to him, and he placed an arm around me. It was just for a moment, but I still felt him. Always.

 Gemma smiled at her phone. “Aww, this is perfect. I’ll send it to mom, too. She’ll like it.” She said the last bit cautiously.  

 Harry’s face turned unreadable, his eyes complete stone.

 “One for me now,” she said, reaching down for something else.

 “I swear, she can hide an elephant in that bag and the only reason someone would know is because it’d trumpet during the previews.”

 She pulled out a polaroid camera. Somehow, in the past five seconds, he’d gone from mildly annoyed and embarrassed to deadpanned over it. I wouldn’t be surprised if he actually growled.

 She held up the camera so I smiled, but as the flash went off and I looked beside me - he was gone.

 “Oh! Harry,” she scolded, but he’d already walked too far away. I saw him weave his way towards the windows of the house and look out.

 “You shouldn’t have mentioned her.” Charlie kicked his shoe. He saw Harry too, looking vigilantly out the window. A second longer and he turned on his heel. He stood taller as he made his way back.

 “Well, at least it’ll be a good picture of you. I’m creating a little collage of the evening.” Gemma put the camera away in her big bag. She reminded me of a mom on prom night and suddenly I felt like I should send that photo to someone, too.

 “That’s so cool! I’m sure it’s going to look so… cute.” Through the crowd, Harry motioned to the food. Clearly, he wasn’t in the mood to say brief goodbyes to his sister.

 “We won’t keep you. Get the pasta pops though. To die for,” Gemma said. “Charlie and I were going to take a stroll by the pool if you want to join us after.”

 “Yes! Oh, and would you mind sending me the photo, too? My mom wants proof I’m alive tonight.”

 “God, of course. Here.” She gave the champagne flute to Charlie, typed in my number, and sent it off.

 “We’ll see you later,” Charlie said.

 “The pasta poppers!” she exclaimed, flute in the air as they weasled their way out to the patio.

 Before I could wonder where Harry was, he met me by the Sprinkles cupcakes stand.

 “Going for dessert first?”

 “Looking for the moon?” I picked one of the mini cupcakes and plopped it in my mouth to spite him. He bit the inside of his cheek and looked away for a split second before looking back. His smile grew.

 “Damn it.”

 My heart picked up its pace.

 “You caught me.”

 He held another cupcake to my lips but I shook my head. “I’m hungry for real food right now.”

 He nodded, and without me saying another word, he took my elbow to bring me to his side. It was comforting to have his hand at my back as we walked through the spread of food. Even if it was lightly placed, in a crowd full of people I didn’t know, at least I had a place with him. My eyes widened when I saw them. The glorious, innovative Pasta Pops. AKA rolled up ball of pesto pasta on chopsticks… I grabbed four.

 “So, when am I seeing your dad?”

 “What?” He piled more food on top of the mountain already growing on his plate.

 “Your dad. The reason why you invited me.” I didn’t believe it. Not anymore. The host of the party wasn’t going to sit down and talk about a potential internship at his own full-fledged party.

 I put a Pasta Pop in my mouth. His attention broke and he watched my lips go over the ball, puckering as I pulled it to the tip. It’s when my lips came off with a “pop” that he sucked in a cheek, smirking.

 “You won’t be talking with Lionel long. Doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy yourself in the meantime.”

 But when I reached over someone’s arm to grab a slider, they stopped me.

 “Hey, you.”

 His eyes lit up and instantly I was drawn in for an awkward hug. Behind his back, I mouthed did you plan this?

 He shrugged his shoulders and looked away with a sly look.

 Lionel pulled away from our quick embrace and looked to my pile of food. It was my turn for the awkward shrug.

 “No, it’s good! Keep going! We have enough food here to feed a small country. Are you still thinking about medicine?”

 “Yeah, not much has changed in the past couple of weeks. Same old, same old.”

 He paused, raising a finger. “I gave you my card, right?”

 How could I forget the card that’s been burning a hole through my dresser…

 “Yes. I’ve been meaning to call you, but I’ve been so busy studying with these midterms, and work, too...” I let my voice fade.  

 “What do you do for work?”

 Harry slowed as he picked up a napkin, and I knew he was listening in even if he wouldn’t stop and join the conversation. I watched his eyes skirt across the table close to where my hand toyed with the serving spoon.

 “Well, I’m a T.A. right now, but I’m also working in the physical therapy room on campus. It’s pretty easy for the most part, blood doesn’t scare me.”

 “Good. You’ll need a strong stomach for most cases.” A man tapped him on the shoulder, stealing his attention. “Give me a call when you can, we’ll set something up at the practice.”

 He leaned in behind Harry, both hands on his back. “Take care of her tonight.”

 Harry stiffened. I’m not sure why. Lionel had such a warm look in his eyes, I automatically trusted him. As he left with his friend, he flashed us one white smile, and I felt loved.

 What the heck was in this family. What kind of beauty steroids did they take?

 “Penny for your thoughts?”

 The quip sounded weird coming from Harry, the Vogue Italia model, leaning against the table. But then again, I was looking after his father with a dazed look on my face that was screaming “I wish I was 40 and you weren’t married.” I snapped out of it and mimicked his pose, equally skeptical.

 “If I hadn’t seen your dad here just now, I swear I wouldn’t have seen him at all. I barely recognize the place with so many…”

 “People?”

 I nodded.

 “I promised that you’d talk to him.”

 “Riiiight.”

 “You don’t trust me?”

 My brows rose. “That’s a loaded question.”

 A spark of indignance puffed up his chest. “What? You actually have to think about that?”

 “I’m just saying. Communication is usually the key to building that up. Just, you know, a friendly tip to help you with those future relationships.” I tapped his chest, and he reached for my wrist. A bold move, sober. He thought so, too, for he dropped it a second later. I was waiting for a, “You can trust me,” but instead he turned serious.

 “Smart girl.”

 He looked at me that way again. A little too deep, a little too long, and I cursed myself for not knowing what to do. He took a bit of his bottom lip between his teeth.

 “I didn’t know you worked in the therapy room.”

 “That’s because you never noticed me before.”

 “Ah, ah,” he raised a finger like his father. “That’s because I’ve never been injured before.”

 I let out a short laugh. “You’re an arrogant thing, aren’t you.”

 “Just honest.”

 Honest.

 But would you answer if I asked, Harry? Would you answer if I asked you what in the heck we were doing? Did I even want to know the answer?

 “I’m really glad you’re here,” he said. And it looked like there was something more swimming behind those eyes.

 “I am, too,” I said. “Much better than a sorority party...” My eyes narrowed. “What in the-”

 “Y/N?”

 Clearly, Viv was just as surprised to see me. Mary Styles was beside her, and she raised her glass to me in a distant hello before giving Viv a kiss on the cheek, excusing herself.

 “What are you doing here?” The silver blue dress she wore was glued to her skinny frame like snakeskin. Harry shifted his feet as she came closer and I wonder if he noticed how tight it was.

 “I followed the noise and traffic directors and decided to hop the gates,” I said.  

 “You didn’t get the initiate invite?”

 An almost pitiful look befell Harry. “You had somewhere else to be?” His puppy dog eyes confused me.

 “Technically, yes. I just, um” - I looked to Viv - “decided to spend my evening somewhere else. You didn’t care to go either?”

 “Oh, I come every year. I practically live in the guest room anyways.”

 I pictured Viv laying poolside during summer barbeques, coming around for Christmas parties, and waking up in her silk pajamas to Sven handing her delicious pastries.  

 “Well this’ll be fun anyways. We’ll have our own little sorority party here.” She turned to Harry. “Can I speak to you for a second?”

 “Yeah.”

 She looked at me apologetically, then back to him. “Alone.”

 His eyes narrowed just the slightest, but he didn’t even have to think about it. He placed a hand at my back. “I’ll just be a second.”

 Viv gave me a half-smile as she interlinked her arm through his, and they left, abandoning me in a swarming crowd with cold sliders. Without him beside me, I fought the ever-present urge that I didn’t belong, but wandering to the glass doors, I saw the red gown in the reflection, the black lace of my mask. I didn’t look like regular ‘ol me tonight. Nobody knew me tonight. A rush of confidence ran through me.

 I was somebody. With, or without Harry.  

 A twinkling bell carried through the halls the same time I stood a little taller. The piano music died down and everyone quieted.

 “I hope everyone is enjoying their evening,” the shrill voice of Mary Styles carried higher as she placed herself atop the spiral staircase. Some people clapped a little prematurely and she smiled at them graciously. “If everyone could please begin filing into the foundation room, we are about to begin the programme.”

 I stole another flute of champagne. Programme.

 The twinkling sound rang again and people began handing their plates over so they could grab their wallets. Several men apologized as they bumped into me, trying to move around the cocktail waiters. Wherever Harry was, he’d just have to find me later. I followed the crowd when my blood ran cold.

 There was something sweet in the air.

 The air around me seemed thinner. I looked around, quickly, but all I saw were masks. Even if they didn’t have them on, their faces were starting to blur in my mind.

 But that too-sweet scent would never.

 It was the man from Kean’s.

 I inhaled again, but it was gone, carried away and overpowered by Dior perfume and Gucci cologne. Were they here? Were they watching me? Were they waiting to get me alone?

 They’d done it before. Maybe it’d be easier this time...

 My mind went to horrible places, and suddenly I was running against the sea.

 I scanned as I ran, but it was futile. I burst through the kitchen doors and froze. There, Mary Styles was heaving over the trashcan spitting out strands of pesto pasta.

 She looked up at me with the emptiest eyes I’d seen.

 “I’m-I’m sorry.”  I bumped into the counter, stumbling out the way I came. Her glossy eyes were haunting. Had I just seen Mrs. Styles eject the contents of her stomach?

 Alone, I shook it off, trying to calm my breathing. They couldn’t do anything to me here. Hell, Mrs. Styles was on the other side of the door. I would scream. People would hear me.  

 “Hey, you okay?”

 And even though I recognized the voice, when his hands were placed on my shoulders I flinched.

 “I smelled them,” I said, looking over my shoulder to the kitchen.

 “Who?” Harry’s eyes followed my gaze. He took a step toward the kitchen.

 “I wouldn’t,” I said.

 He stopped, confused. “I mean, you can, but I think your mom is sick,” I continued.  

 My tone wasn’t convincing. He bit his cheek. “Right.”

 And even though we both knew that his mom didn’t have food poisoning, that was a conversation for another time.

 “They’re here, Harry.”

 “What are you talking about?” He paused. His eyes saw the panic in mine and he swallowed, hard.

 “They can’t be. There’s security.”

 “I walked through the door, no one searched me or checked my name off a list.”

 “You’re a girl, it’s different. The security has a list of faces to watch out for, and trust me, they’d stand out.”

 “No- Harry,” I stammered. He wasn’t get it. “Their cologne. I haven’t smelled it since Kean’s.” The name tasted bitter on my tongue. “I was there- and your mom was talking and I was following these people but I smelled them. And it was so crowded so I ran and she was in the kitchen, and I don’t- I don’t know how, but they’re here. I didn’t imagine that. And no one else would be wearing that. No one else could smell like that.”

 I gasped for air, not realizing that I was on the verge of sobbing until Harry’s arms came around me.

 “Hey,” he soothed. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”

 I let him hold me, but I wasn’t sure if I believed him. Their living area was too empty now. Too quiet. And even in his arms, even knowing what he’d done to them before, I didn’t feel safe. What was the point of having a massive castle if you couldn’t defend it? Your wealth just made you a sitting duck. A giant target.

 “Why would they be here?” I asked.

 “They wouldn’t be stupid enough to come here,” he reassured me.  

 “You probably think I’m crazy.”

 “No, don’t do that to yourself.” He pulled back just enough. “You’re not crazy.”

 And with no one to see, he took my hand, leading me past the foundation room. A part of me actually wanted to see the auction, but my mounting paranoia was stronger. We passed by the bar on the way to his room. It’d been empty for my last visit, but now the caterers were taking full advantage of its liquor storage capacity.

 “Let’s see,” his voice drawled as his fingers shifted through the bottles. He didn’t ask before pouring us two cocktails.

 “After you,” he said, nodding towards his room. By the time I’d sat down at the foot of his bed, he shut the door behind us with both drinks, and the vodka handle in the crook of his arm.

 “Is the foundation for your sister? Jane?”

 Harry avoided eye contact as he set the bottle down, pushing his hair back, brows raised.

 “Uh, kind of. I never knew her.” He turned to me finally, shrugging with an apathy that had taken years to perfect. “I mean it’s sad, we don’t have to talk about it now.”

 “Is it ever a good time?”

 He looked at me, giving me the chance to take back what I did. I didn’t.

 “She died before I was adopted.”

 “Oh.” My stomach dropped. There was so much I didn’t know, but I hadn’t been expecting this. His eyes didn’t hold any sadness, but guilt still pricked my heart. “I’m sorry.”

 He looked out the window again, distracted.

 “Again, I didn’t know her. It’s sad, but I don’t…” -he tried to find the right words, loosened his tie- “It’s not my grief.”

 I nodded; that made sense. It was his parents. The Styles. But the legacy of that pain couldn’t have had zero repercussions on their second child. There was more to the story than he was sharing, but I didn’t press. I walked closer, slowly toying with my drink.

 “So you find it hard to miss something you never had,” I clarified.

 He took a deep breath. “Cheers.” He raised his glass to me and I mimicked him, cringing at the stiff drink.

 “How are you feeling?” he asked.

 “Warm.”

 He nudged me, growing serious. “You know what I mean.”

 How was I feeling? The inner me cleared her throat and yelled from a soap box.

Jealous.

Scared.

Confused.

ANNOYED at how many windows this house had. I looked at Harry’s dark mask, the swirling madness in his emerald, the way the suit fit snug against his toned body… we were very much alone.

 Add turned on to my emotional cocktail.

 “I’m feeling a lot.”

 “Hm,” he hummed. “I’m feeling a lot too.” And it was so quiet. So bizarre to hear him say something even remotely close to feelings that I stood completely still. Was his drink as strong as mine?

 Our eyes were locked, but he didn’t turn away. I fought every fiber in my screaming to break the intense spell.

 He leaned in closer, tilted his head lower. Our noses brushed.

 Panic.

 “Are you and Viv…?”

 “I’m not up here with her am I.”

 Relief.

 But I didn’t have the courage to say she’d probably been up here before.

 “You know” - he pulled me closer, waists closing in - “I’m going to need a lot of help with that midterm,” he mumbled.

 Elation.

 An almost laugh that just lasted for a moment, because school seemed so trivial for what was happening in this house. There seemed to be split parts of me - the one I’ve always known and the one with him. Which one was more real to me now? I wasn’t sure if I was the same person that I once was - happy alone, solely immersed in school or netflix nights in. I’d been fine. I’d been safe. Maybe a little bored, but I hadn’t known there was more. With him there was a chaos that burned off his shoulders, that simmered in his eyes, and I drank in the warmth like a person frozen from snow.

 His hands squeezed my sides, and my eyes fluttered closed. “How are you feeling now?”

 “Good.”  

 He didn’t say anything more, but our breath was now in sync. It didn’t matter what he couldn’t say. What mattered was him, and the fact that when he looked at me, I felt everything he couldn’t say.

 Eyes couldn’t lie. Not like that.

 So I lifted my lips, and he went in for the kiss.

 It was like I’d been starved of oxygen when his soft lips encompassed my own. Oh God, I’d missed this buzz. I’d missed him.

 His hands cradled my face as he backed me up to the edge of the bed, lips never parting. A greedy hand shifted lower and he gripped the curve of backside. I whimpered a little, lips parting to allow his tongue to sneak in as he marked what I was so willing to give. He wasn’t pulling away this time. He wasn’t telling me no.

 I sat at the edge of the bed where he’d placed us, and leant back, his body falling atop mine. His delicious weight pinned me down, and he kissed down my neck, nibbling, biting. With a particularly hard suck, I moaned and when I looked down I saw him paused, hooded eyes looking up at me from the sound. His hands travelled down, slowly, from my waist to the ends of my dress. He was heavy but not crushing, deliberate but with respect. He waited for an answer.

 I nodded.

 He bit his lip in a smirk as he hitched up my dress. One hand clutching the soft skin of my hips, as the other supported him above me, Harry rolled his hips against me.

 Oh.

 Against the thin fabric of my underwear, I felt him harden between my folds. Gentle kisses were peppered along my chest and I pulled him closer.

 “Harry,” I whispered, lifting my hips against his. He groaned into my ear, a playful bite at the lobe.

 I shivered the same time his fingers travelled lower against my stomach. He stopped at the band of underwear, my breath catching when he cupped my sex.

 “Is this okay?” he whispered.

 I nodded, hummed, as his hand slowly rubbed against me. I could feel him watch me intently, but mostly I could feel him. Up, down, up... the friction against my bundle of nerves made my lips part. Again, and again, my breathing deepened and soon I was rutting against his hand. The damp patch he created was evident as he took several fingers and ran them against it. He applied pressure at my center and I wanted him to do more.

 He kissed my neck and a “please” stumbled out of my mouth. He smiled, letting out a small breath. He kissed my lips as his fingers pulled aside the lace. The cutest gesture of reassurance when there was nothing to reassure.

 I’d dreamt about this too many times for me to back out. This time I wouldn’t shy away. I took his bottom lip between mine. Go.

 But a glass shattering scream carried up the stairs.

 The commotion from downstairs grew louder, and I didn’t need to say anything.

 I’d already known.

 His hand retracted, and as quickly as it started, he’d rolled off to his side, my comforting weight gone.

 “What the fuck,” he muttered. He stood dead still at the edge of the bed but when he heard someone coming up the stairs, he lunged for the dresser, reached for the top drawer -

 From outside, “Harry! Harry, are you up here?”

 The door flew open.

 His arm fell to his side.

 Gemma stood at the doorway, slightly out of breath.

 “You need to come downstairs. Now.”

 I pulled my dress down, but Gemma wasn’t paying attention to me. There was a wild look in her eye only Harry could understand.

 He didn’t look back to me as he barrelled past her, she followed suit. I sat at the edge of the bed; alone, dishevelled, disoriented. I was scared to follow.

 Everything could change in a moment.

 There were footsteps at the door again and I looked up just in time to see Harry striding across the floor to me.

 “What are you-”

 His lips crashed into mine, and my breath was suspended again. There was an urgency in the kiss that hadn’t been there before. Deep, hard, a hand tangled in my hair when another hitched up my skirt. His fingers swiped at my entrance once and before I could kiss him back he pulled away.

 He let out an exasperated breath, and leant his forehead against mine.

 “I have to take care of this.”

 Unflinching, he drew the fingers that’d just pressed against my center up to his parted lips before swiping them against my own.

 He stood tall as he walked away, broad shoulders subtly moving beneath the suit as he drew a key from his pocket and closed the door behind him.

 There was no way in hell I was staying here.

 I shot up, running to the door - but it was locked. I pounded against it.

 “Harry? Harry let me out this isn’t funny!”

 I jiggled the handle again. Nothing.

 I wanted to scream, debated about screaming as I paced around the room. My eyes went to the top drawer of his dresser. I stopped. He’d reached for something there.

 When I pulled it open it was just some old band t-shirts, but my hand hit something in the back. Pushing aside the shirts was a black box.

 I quickly undid the clasp.

 A black handgun.

 I shoved the box to the back as quickly as I’d opened it.

 Fuck no.

 Frickity fracking fuck no.

 He’d been reaching for a gun.

 What kind of threats was he used to that he needed a gun?  

 I took a bobby pin from my hair, and with an expert skill that only growing up with a sibling could teach you, the lock was picked.

 It took me at least five minutes, but the door opened. I booked it downstairs, a flounder of red dress heading into a quiet commotion.

 I didn't see him when I made it down the stairs. There were too many confused bystanders huddled around their phones and switching social circles, whispering frantically about the scene before them.

I didn’t need to see anything in the crowd. For up on the wall, between collectors’ paintings was a vacant space.

 The family portrait was gone.

 And in its place was a snake that matched the one I’d seen tattooed on skin, the same snake that had been wrapped around my neck.

part 14

#posted a day after april 13 coiNCIDENCE I THINK NOT #harry styles #frat boy #Harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #fratboy!harry #one direction #onedirection #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #fratboy! harry #1direction #one direction imagine #one direction one shot #harry styles preference #harry styles blurb #harry fic

[soracities]

Do you keep a diary? I keep thinking about starting to write in one, but the moment I put pen to paper it feels so grossly wrong that I immediately stop.

Why does it feel wrong? Who’s in your head every time you try to write, telling you it’s wrong?

I don’t have a ‘diary’ diary (for the exact same reason you mentioned), but I do have a very loosely arranged journal. I always felt so fake when I tried to keep a proper diary because there was always (ironically) this strange sense of performance I kept bringing to it. For that reason it never felt like anything that could ever be truly personal to me, so I stopped and went with my gut instead. What I keep now is incredibly fragmented and a wide variety of things: errant lines of poetry, lyrics, passing observations, brief drawings and sketches. It’s not  a ‘proper’ diary but it is personal in a different way. 

Granted, some days my entries are personal - very personal (though admittedly in a very cryptic and roundabout way) - but other times it may be weeks and weeks of absolutely nothing personal at all - weeks and weeks without anything, even. I simply go by what works for me and what feels right for me. I love to record little moments that touch me or quotes that really strike me, but otherwise I don’t believe in forcing anything, not anymore.

That said, that was what I found worked for me. You may be different and it could very easily be a number of other things: maybe your mind hits block because you’ve associated keeping a diary as some very special form of art that only “gifted” writers should do, or maybe you see it through the eyes of whoever may end up reading it and so can’t ever relax about it, or maybe it’s just difficult to convince yourself that your feelings and your thoughts matter enough to be worthy of being written down (and if that’s the case, I’m telling you now: it’s not a matter of worth. No one person’s feelings or way of expressing themselves is any better than someone else’s. These are your thoughts, your feelings and they are important to you. That is all that matters. It isn’t anything you can, or should, quantify). 

In any case, if you find it daunting then my suggestion would be to ease into it. You do not need to bare your heart and soul in the first entry. You don’t even have to make it personal at all. Maybe you overheard an interesting conversation on the bus or in a café. Maybe you heard a group of kids laughing in the park and reminded you of something from when you were younger. Maybe one of your friends said something that had you in stitches. It doesn’t need to be paragraphs. Two, three lines, even, will do. Once you get comfortable recording these small instances, over time, I think your own personal voice will show through, in whatever way is most natural for you (and in the end, maybe that isn’t keeping a diary, it might become something else entirely).  

I know for some people a diary is a deeply personal space where you can spill out everything and that’s generally what we associate with it - it has a specific structure and a specific ‘tone’ but, honestly? A diary, as long as it’s true to you, can be absolutely anything. It took me a long time to realise that the ‘diary’ I was keeping, when I had it, wasn’t really me. I only realised because, in the interim, I was keeping a second notebook where I took down all the little things that struck me. The second one filled up very quickly. The first one hardly at all. When I looked back on them both, it became very clear which one was me. 

This is a very old (angsty) entry, but just to remind you: you can put whatever tf you want. All that matters is that it is true to who you are (even when you don’t know who that is)

#ask #anonymous #notes from elsewhere #beginner guides

[gossamie]

real bitches get revenge.

summary — one frat party. one cheating and (soon-to-be) ex-boyfriend. one plan to get revenge.

pairing — jeon jungkook x park jimin x reader (ft. bts)

genre — fluff & humor

word count — 2,514

warnings — swearing, mentions of alcohol, and poorly made dick jokes

notes — this story has been sitting in my drafts for some time now, but i’m so glad i finally finished it! this is a lil different from what i normally write, but i wanted to push myself from my usual angsty fics and give you guys something more lighthearted. i hope you enjoy (bad humor and all)!

p.s. disclaimer: i am not implying through this story that jungkook is a cheating asshole, nor do i think that any of the other characters are exactly like the stereotype i portrayed them as. this is purely for fictional purposes. 

p.p.s. thank you thank you thank you @louvresdemiel, aka luna, for reading this story and giving me advice! love you <3

“Revenge is sweet and not fattening.” — Alfred Hitchcock

Jeon Jungkook— the president-slash-poster-child of Pi Rho Omega and the spitting image of charisma, charm, and confidence. He’s the guy that everyone wants to be friends with, the guy that makes any frat party legendary, the guy you hate to love, and the guy that you’re lucky to call your loving, loyal boyfriend.

Well, soon-to-be ex-boyfriend, because he’s currently kissing another girl.

You probably would’ve still seen Jungkook shoving his tongue down that girl’s throat even if Seokjin hadn’t pointed it out to you. It was as if they were asking for an audience; they were pressed up against the kitchen island, their grimy hands moving and grabbing each others’ bodies in every direction but especially towards the parts where the sun doesn’t shine, and you could’ve sworn you saw spit flying from her mouth and drool slobbering down Jungkook’s chin like a dog— or, more appropriately, like the bitch he is.

Sure, you were sad— after all, you had spent the entirety of your senior year falling in love with Jungkook— but, more than anything, you were… angry. You were angry because he had chosen to cheat on you. He had chosen to walk away from your relationship. He had chosen to throw away a year’s worth of endless laughter and stolen kisses and hushed secrets and infinite love all for some random sorority girl he met five seconds ago.

In that moment, as you watched your loving, loyal boyfriend kiss another girl, you knew that he didn’t deserve you, not now and not ever. In that moment, you knew that you deserved better than him. In that moment, you knew that you’ll always deserve better than some cheating, two-faced prick.

Whatever there was between you and Jungkook, it was over the minute he decided you apparently weren’t as important as a drunk make-out sesh.

But he’s made his choice. Now, you’ll make yours.

And your choice?

To get sweet, sweet revenge.

“Y/N, what the hell are you planning to do?”

“What do you mean?” you reply as you batted your eyelashes at Seokjin, feigning innocence, something sickly sweet coating your tone. Earlier, you had shrugged off his attempts to comfort you, not because you didn’t appreciate them, but because you didn’t need them; they were only a distraction, anyway. There was only one thing you concentrated on as you pulled Seokjin aside from the throng of partygoers: enlisting your friend’s help in your plan for revenge.

“I know that look in your eyes. Whenever you get that look, I know you’re about to do something, and it’s not something pretty.”

“Are you trying to stop me from getting back at Jungkook?”

“Oh, hell no. I’m about to shove my foot up his ass faster than his three-inch dick can inflate.”

“Great. You and I are on the same page. So, will you please help me?”

Seokjin sighs, weighing the options in his mind. Should he maintain a semi-clean moral record, or should he take the opportunity to shove Jeon Jungkook’s shit right in his pretty little face?

But Seokjin realizes there was only one correct option out of the two and that it was definitely not the first one, so he replies, “What do you need?”

You devilishly smirk and focus your attention back to the raging party, taking care not to shift your eyes too far to the right so as not to look at the kitchen and, subsequently, (gag) him. “You know more about the fraternities than I do. I need to know who the somewhat-decent bachelors are in this room and everything you know about them.”

“So, should I start off with me?”

“Oh my gosh, you actually said something funny for once in your life!”

“Okay, listen here, I don’t appreciate the sarcasm, bit—”

“Just kidding! Now, focus. There has to be someone in here, right?”

Seokjin nods, and you follow his gaze to a head of rose gold hair and a nose buried deep in a sketchbook leaning against a wall at the back of the room. The man looked familiar to you; you remembered seeing him wandering peacefully around campus, often carrying a vintage camera or watercolors in his hands. For some reason, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his profile, drawn in by the mysterious aura that lingered around his hunched figure and hung in his deep brown eyes.

“That,” Seokjin remarks, “is Kim Taehyung. Fine arts major. Gamma Mu Mu. I like to think of him as the school’s token art hoe.”

You scoff. “Why do you say that?”

“He fits the stereotype perfectly. He refuses to take pictures on anything other than his Polaroid, he stans Van Gogh, and he thinks he invented wearing wire-rimmed glasses. I’m pretty sure I heard him say once that Instagram was an ‘insult to modern photography’.”

“Okay, but have you seen him? He’s perfect.”

“Oh, I know. But I don’t think I would want to be seen with the guy who looks like the physical manifestation of a liberal arts college degree. Hard pass.”

You’re about to voice your disappointment when a loud burst of laughter from the other side of the room piques your interest. You find yourself staring at a small crowd of people clustered around the couch in the living room— wait— around the guy sitting on the couch in the living room. The people surrounding him are incredibly intrigued by him, judging by how close they lean in to hear him and how hard they laugh at all his jokes, and you wonder if it’s because of his wide smile or his kind eyes or his very presence or all of the above.

You deduce that it must be the last option because you’re intrigued, too.

“Who is that?” you ask, dumbfounded, wondering how the hell you’ve never seen him around the university before.

Seokjin echoes your confusion. “Jung Hoseok? He’s the nicest guy on campus! His frat calls him ‘The Sun of Omega Psi’, which is such a cute nickname. A little cheesy, but cute, nonetheless.” He shifts his attention towards said ray of light. “You can’t deny it, though, the nickname. It fits him perfectly.”

He’s right; you can’t. If Chode Jungcock is the life of the party, then Jung Hoseok is the light. Hoseok seems to radiate positivity and his effect can be seen on the smiles on people’s faces that inexplicably appear whenever he passes by. People like Hoseok aren’t supposed to exist, yet here he is: charming, friendly, witty, and to top it all off, painfully handsome.

You frown, however, and voice your thoughts aloud. “I can’t use Hoseok, though. He’s too pure for this world, and especially too pure for revenge.” You turn to Seokjin. “It’s back to the drawing board, I guess.”

Seokjin is in the midst of forming another sentence before something by the staircase makes his head cock to the side and his eyes squint. “Huh. I never thought I’d see the day when he’d be outside his dorm.”

It’s your turn to squint your eyes towards the something— someone— that has caught Seokjin’s attention. What you find is a man bundled in a black hoodie and huddled at the bottom of the staircase, idly petting Holly, the small brown poodle that Pi Rho Omega adopted as their live-in pet. Though his head is turned downwards, you can see the curve of an upturned nose and the soft pout of his lips through his bangs and you conclude that there is a handsome face hiding underneath that hood. “And he is…?”

“Min Yoongi. I think he’s a music production major, and I think he’s in Zeta Theta Psi, but I don’t know for sure. I’ve only ever heard bits and pieces of information about him because he interacts with people once a year, he’s that introverted. I honestly don’t even know why he’s at this party, let alone why he joined a fraternity in the first place.”

That explains why you didn’t recognize him, because you have truly never seen him on campus before. “So, what do you know about him?”

“I know that he’s the host of the university’s radio station and that he’s normally holed up in his dorm producing songs with lyrics pulled straight from aesthetic text posts on Tumblr.”

“I take that as a no.”

“Mhm. I definitely peg him as someone who sends passive-aggressive mixtapes to all the boys he’s ever touched before. Hell, he’d probably write a song about you and blast it to the whole school. It’s too risky.”

You can’t help but nod in agreement because he does seem like that type of guy. But you choke on the chuckle that’s about to leave your throat, however, when your eyes catch sight of a man standing in a nearby hallway. The pounding music drowns out the conversation he’s having with the two other people standing by, but from the way his eyebrows furrow over his glasses, you can tell that his focus lies on the conversation and nothing else. Everything about him— how he leans into others as he talks, how his attentive gaze never falters, how his lips curl up into a warm smile— screams the definition of intelligence, or, maybe, the definition of perfection.

Seokjin catches himself staring before you do. “That’s Kim Namjoon,” he sputters, pulling himself out of his own reverie. “President of Lambda Kappa Pi, computer science major, future valedictorian of our class. I had statistics with him freshman year and whenever I talked to him, I felt like my IQ went up by ten points.”

“So, from an IQ of 20 to 30?”

“Fuck you.”

“Love you, too.”

Seokjin closes his eyes and releases a sigh, needing a moment of inner peace before continuing. “I would tell you to go for it, but Namjoon’s been so focused on his studies that he thinks that getting involved with anyone would ruin his 4.5 GPA. Also, that being said, my ass will have his name written all over it by the end of the semester and I am not letting you ruin my chances of that happening.”

Well, this is just great.

“This isn’t going to work, Seokjin! I’m never going to find anyone,” you suddenly exclaim, feeling defeated as you plop down onto the nearest chair. You’re beginning to accept that this plan for revenge is only going to backfire on you, that Jungkook is finally and definitely going to win.

And then your eyes find their way back to Hoseok— not to look at him, but rather, at the man standing beside him. He’s currently laughing at one of Hoseok’s many jokes— it’s such a bright, beautiful laugh— and his endearing smile makes his eyes crinkle at the edges. Seokjin opens his mouth, about to say the stranger’s name, but he stops, because the look in your eyes tells him that you already know it.

Park Jimin— the vice president of Pi Rho Omega and Jeon Jungkook’s best friend. He’s the most sought-after guy on campus— that is, next to Jungkook, of course— because he is, quite literally, the perfect guy. Jimin is ambitious, intelligent, caring, and, though you never brought yourself to admit it, everything that your boyfriend isn’t.

Being Jungkook’s girlfriend brought about a mutual friendship with Jimin, but you would be lying to yourself if you said that you had never looked at him as anything more than a friend. You had noticed Jimin’s sidelong glances and stares that always lasted a few seconds too long and, sometimes, when Jungkook was distracted and Jimin shifted his attention elsewhere, you returned them. But you were a loyal girlfriend and you never acted upon your fleeting feelings even though you knew that Jimin was so much better than Jungkook because— because…

Because Jimin wasn’t Jungkook.

What you were about to do to Jimin was wrong and you knew it, but even as the logical part of your brain screamed at you to stop whatever you’re doing this is so wrong, the irrational part of your brain blinded you from any good sense of moral judgement, so hell-bent on getting back at Jungkook that nothing and no one else mattered. Your anger clouded your vision until all you could see was your feet and how they were getting closer and closer to Jimin as he walked towards the kitchen, until all you could think was how you were getting closer and closer to fulfilling your desire for revenge.

Your footsteps stopped right in front of Jimin, who was just about to get another beer from the cooler sitting on the kitchen floor. You were painfully aware of your surroundings and everything occurring within them: how your heartbeat was thundering in your ears, how Jimin was so wide-eyed and so blissfully unaware of the situation at hand, and, out of the corner of your eye, how Jungkook was staring at you and all that was about to happen.

You’d been planning for this moment all night, but now that it was here, you weren’t sure if you could follow through. You gulped, hesitated, felt something in your stomach lurch and oh God I’m going to be sick if I don’t grow a pair of balls right now.

In one moment, Jimin was saying, “Hey, Y/N— are you okay?”

In the next moment, you were kissing Jimin in front of your boyfriend.

Eight seconds— the kiss lasted only eight seconds and every second felt wrong wrong this is so wrong but you couldn’t shake the feeling that this is so, so right. You liked the way his lips felt on yours. You liked the way his fingers weaved their way into your hair, gently cupping the back of your head. You liked the way he sighed onto your lips, a small sigh that silently whispered how he had waited a year for this moment, how he had waited a year for you.

Eight seconds— it took you eight seconds to decide that you wanted to spend much more time with Jimin. The rest of your life, maybe.

Suddenly, it didn’t matter that you couldn’t hear the music over the crowd’s whispers, it didn’t matter that Seokjin’s jaw was hitting the floor from across the room, and it definitely didn’t matter that Jungkook was angrily storming out of the frat house, shrugging off the girl he was kissing moments ago. All that mattered was you and Jimin and how you now felt breathless in his presence and how his eyes now lit up when he looked at you and were his eyes always this brilliant?

Jimin pulled away from the kiss all too soon. He was silent for a moment. You braced yourself for rejection, for the inevitable and irrevocable feeling of despair that would hit you when he walked away.

But all he said was, “Kiss me again.”

So you did, and sparks flew.

Park Jimin— he wasn’t Jeon Jungkook, no, but if every moment with him felt like this, then that was a very, very good thing.

#btsguild #kpopwritingnet #bts #bts fic #bts au #bts fluff #bts humor #jungkook fic #jungkook fluff #jimin fic #jimin humor #jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #jimin fanfic #jimin au

[kg2hub]

Rules for mobile users

[[here’s a google doc for the updated list of rules, applicable for all my blogs]]

anything under this cut is from my outdated rules.

[rules updated: 08/15/2019]

–STUFF YOU SHOULD DO–

• No godmodding. No sending (implied or explicit) homophobic/transphobic/bigoted messages to me or my character either.

• Please don’t over-pester me for replies. I promise I’ll get to them. Feel free to drop me a reminder after at least a week of no replies, though. In return, I usually give you a week too, unless otherwise specified in your own rules, until I remind you if it’s your turn to reply (or more often, I chicken out and trust that you’ll eventually respond/want to drop it and end up never bringing up that particular thread ever again). You’re always free to start multiple threads with me, that is greatly encouraged because I love having lots of threads with people.

• If you start getting bored with the roleplay, feel free to drop it and/or end it. We can always start up another thread in the future.

• However, please let me know if you want to drop a roleplay thread! It can give me major anxiety when I’m waiting for a response that’s never going to come, and I wonder if I did something wrong and assume that’s why you’re not replying anymore :’) I’m not forcing you to let me know if you want to drop a thread, you can drop it without saying anything too. But I personally really appreciate being told about that sort of thing.

• Don’t reblog a thread you’re not part of. This should go without being said, of course. Personals will be hardblocked immediately, rp blogs will receive a warning.

• If you can trim your threads, please do! It’s fine if you can’t, though, because I will most likely trim the thread for you. If you don’t trim threads with other people, however, I’ll be less likely to follow you since I don’t like scrolling through long posts.

• Please don’t claim any of my art as your own. If you post it somewhere, the least you can do is credit me by at least including a link to my blog or something. Bonus points if you ask me first before reposting my art, but I understand if you’re anxious because so am I :’)

• If any of your art is featured on my blog, as an icon or something and you don’t want me to use your art, please tell me!!! Message me privately or contact me in some way and please let me know that you want your art taken down. As a fellow artist, I understand wanting other people to not use your art (although I am personally fine with it as long as proper credit is given,) but if you’re more strict about it than I am, that’s totally okay too! Just let me know, and I’ll stop using your art immediately, will delete all icons I have of your art, as well as delete every single instance of your art being used on this blog.

• That being said, if you’re following me, please let me know if I’m doing something that’s making you uncomfortable or is breaking one of your rules!! I do read the rules pages of everyone, but I’m human and forget things, and I’m not a mind reader either ;~; I care, so please tell me if I’m ever doing anything bad

• You can reply to any of my open starters at any time! Even if they’re a year old! Even if other people have already replied to it! My open starters are open for a reason, and we don’t have to be mutuals for you to reply to them either :’)

—

–STUFF YOU SHOULD KEEP IN MIND–

• I am of age to do smut, but Ted is literally in kindergarten so that is a no for this blog! There might be occasional references to adult stuff, given the mature nature of the canon game, but that’s about it. No explicit smut in this house.

• This blog is not a spoiler-free one. I will not tag roleplays with spoilers, but anything else will be tagged with Kindergarten Spoilers

• I’m alright with roleplaying nsfw in general, minus smut. Gore, violence, and generally dark roleplays are cool with me. It should be, considering the game this character is from. I love angsty things just as much as I love fluff ;w; Speaking of gore, you’re more than welcome to fight/harm/injure my muse to any extent! You don’t even have to ask! If you want to do a rp where he dies, however, please dm me first.

• I prefer not to roleplay with personals, unless you are someone I know from school or something like that. Personals in general are allowed to follow me too! However! Personals are not allowed to reblog roleplays, in character posts, or ooc posts especially if I say in the tags that I’m going to delete the post later. Only things that are tagged with my “musings” or “art tag” tags are okay to reblog. Headcanon posts are not okay to reblog unless I say otherwise.

• Like spamming is okay! I very occasionally lose roleplays, and getting lots of notes from likes are never a factor for that, for me personally. If I lose a roleplay, it’s mostly just because I forgot, so that’s really a “me” thing. I’m usually very good at keeping track of who I’m roleplaying with and how many ongoing threads I have, and I reply pretty consistently, so just remind me if I haven’t responded after a week or more days (as stated in one of the above rules)! And I like it when people like my posts! It lets me know that you like my blog and the stuff I post, and it makes me happy :’)

• If you are an OC, I will assume our muses have never met unless you plan ahead with me what their relationship is like.

• That being said, characters who have already interacted in canon will know each other. Unless the roleplay takes place in a different point of time and we are staging their first meeting, of course.

• Doubles are welcome to interact too! Although currently I don’t know of much other Ted roleplay blogs lmao. I’m also cool with interacting with and following duplicates of different characters than my own muse!

• This blog will not have mains. Ted will not have any specific version of a muse that he’ll talk about in threads, unless the thread is specifically about that one muse for some reason. For Kindergarten blogs, he will typically be the Ted in your muse’s timeline in serious roleplays, unless your muse is part of an AU/UA/canon-divergent universe, or there are things about your muse’s backstory that would contradict Ted being in your timeline naturally, or you talk about it with me beforehand.

• I’m pretty lenient with short replies. Don’t feel pressured to match the length if my reply gets long! Multi-para (usually 2-5 paragraphs) is my go-to for roleplays, so I usually do long replies by default.

• Adding onto that, I honestly don’t mind one-liners. Of course, in crack/online roleplays it’s fine but I’m okay with it in serious roleplays too. I prefer it if you don’t give me one-liners, but hey, as long as I’m still having fun with the roleplay anyway, it’s cool with me! I understand not being able to think of anything to write, so just as long as you don’t give me one or two words as your reply like ‘He smiled.’ or ’*laughs*’, I’ll be cool with it. Put at least some effort even if you’re only gonna give me one sentence, otherwise I’ll drop the rp once it becomes a repeat offense.

• I will not change the formatting of my roleplays to fit yours. I’m comfortable with sticking to only paragraph style roleplays, thank you very much. Feel free to keep formatting your own posts though, because I think formatting looks really cool! I just don’t want to format my posts, however. I will not go all out with formatting my own posts with all that cool ‘small text’, and indents, and bolding and all that. The most I ever do with my formatting is italics for emphasis on certain words, and using icons.

• I tend to move roleplays from asks onto its own post. If I send you an ask meme and you answer it, I’ll respond by making a new post, tagging you, and linking to your reply.

• I accept any sort of asks! If they aren’t answered after a while, either I don’t know how to answer it or I might be drawing it out and I am a very slow artist- Sorry-

• Feel free to tag me in any of those tagging memes! I don’t mind and I think they’re pretty fun to do! ^^

• Adding onto the above rule, you’re more than welcome to send me those chain asks like ���send this to 10 roleplayers you think are really great!” because it’s super duper nice that you would think to send one to me! But don’t expect me to send them to other people, because I won’t :’) my anxiety won’t let me, so I’m sorry-

• If I follow you, that means I’ve already read all of your rules. I might not send the codephrase, though, because most of the time I get very anxious over having to send things like that. I’m very sorry–! But if I follow you then chances are that I have definitely read them before following- If you choose not to trust me on this, I understand.

• I generally follow every rp blog that follows me, but I might not follow some people back for a few reasons. Some might be for the type of content you post on your blog, but I am still non-selective! I will roleplay with anyone who asks (unless you wanna rp gross things or you’re a mean person,,,, like your muse can be as much of a dick as you want, that’s no problem but don’t be gross to other people as yourself) and if I do roleplay with you, I will be more likely to follow you as well.

• Adding onto the above rule, however, please respect that it’s nothing personal if I ever unfollow you either! It’s not that I hate you or anything, but if you haven’t followed me back and you’re a private rp blog, or if we’re mutuals but never really roleplay, our muses just don’t click, you spam stuff that I don’t want to see on my dash, or you’ve become inactive for years and/or don’t interact with me anymore, there’s nothing wrong with that! We can still be friends but I prefer to have all the people I follow be potential rp partners. Feel free to follow me on my personal, Briightskies, if you still wanna keep in touch but not rp :’)

—

–ABOUT THIS BLOG–

• This blog is OC, multiverse, and crossover friendly! I love OCs and have many of my own tbh, you’re all more than welcome to come rp with me!!

• I’ll also rp with fandoms I’m not into either, as long as you have a good about section for your character, which also indicates how you portray them (any headcanons or AUs you have that aren’t canon, or whether you portray them as canonly as possible, unless they’re OCs of course since a regular about page is a given) and I’ll probably look up other things about that fandom in its wiki if I don’t know what something is anyway.

• This blog is multiship and will only ship with other child muses! Kid crushes are adorable! I used to have many crushes as a child, and the game does depict children crushing on each other or outright ‘dating’. So any relationships my muse is involved in, are in different timelines unless specified. Poly relationships aren’t bad though, just saying. I ship pretty much anything unless it’s incest or if they’re children paired with someone a lot older. Because Ted is a child, he won’t really get intimate with his partners, but romantic stuff is okay.

• I also only ship with chemistry. My muses need to get to know yours first, so don’t get disappointed if he only sees you as a friend/acquaintance at first and has no intention of pursuing a romantic relationship with your muse. Give my muse reasons to care about your muse and let the feelings develop naturally, and don’t ever force your muse on mine. Unless it’s to mess with him, or whatever other reason. Unrequited stuff is absolutely okay with me too!

• I will tag common triggers and such, but don’t be afraid to tell me if you have something you want me to tag! I promise I’ll remember to tag it from then on. I do not have any known triggers myself. Any trigger warning tags will be written as “tw; ____” with a semi-colon, not a colon. If I feel like something should be tagged as a trigger but I’m not sure what to tag it exactly, I’ll just tag it as “tw” as a sort of catch-all tag.

     Requested tagged triggers:

none right now

• I will only talk through the IM system ooc. If you send me a message through there, I will not respond with ooc brackets ((these things)) because I will automatically assume you know that you’re talking to the mun. I do not do roleplays on there.

-

Thank you for reading this really long list of rules! It means a lot if you did!

There’s no password, because I’m also anxious with those for other people’s blogs as I said above. But if you would like to interact with me, you can shoot me an ask directed to my muse, or like one of my starter call posts at any time (also feel free to re-like those posts so I can make another starter for you at any time!) for me to write you a starter!

#links for mobile users #rules #|| I Did A Thing! || Blog updates.

[hollandsmoose]

cat and mouse (part 3)

A/N: This is the final part! It’s been so amazing seeing how much you guys liked this story, and I love you all so much! So here you go, babes, here’s 2.7k of angsty fluff with bad boy!Shawn!

part 2

A month and two weeks into your relationship is when the first trouble comes. Everything’s fine up until that point. He’s been for dinner with your parents. You’ve been to dinner with his parents. You hold hands in public and sit together during lunch. All is well.

That lasts until the first party you attend as a couple. Fearing that your friends are starting to find you a little boring now that you’re in a relationship, you and Shawn decide to go to a party Brian is throwing. Parties at Brian’s house are nothing new, but he is Shawn’s best friend, and it seems like a good place to make your debut as a couple.

Shawn has committed to driving you home, making him the designated driver. Of course, as soon as your friends got wind of that, he was suddenly in charge of bringing at least ten different people home. The usual beer in his hand has been replaced with a can of soda tonight, and you admire how he isn’t even the tiniest bit annoyed about it.

You’d insisted on just having your dad come and pick you up, but Shawn had also been adamant that he should be the one to bring you home. It would look good, he had said. Though your parents seem to like Shawn well enough, he still feels that he has to prove himself to them - kind of like he’d proven himself to you.

Deep in your thoughts, you find it hard to focus on the conversation you’re a part of. Your friends are talking about something which you could not honestly care less for, so when you see the opportunity to excuse yourself, you seize it instantly.

You hate to be predictable, yet you still do the predictable thing and go to find your boyfriend. Boyfriend. Even thinking about it makes you blush. That blush is wiped off your face in a matter of a few seconds, though. It doesn’t take you long to find Shawn, and when you do, you’re not pleased.

He’s sat on of the couches in the living room, and two girls sit on either side of him, his arms behind them on the backrest. They’re obviously fawning over him, flirting with him, but that’s not necessarily the worst thing. The worst thing is that you know that he’s been with both of them earlier this year.

It awakens a fear in you that you have been trying to subdue since the start of your relationship. The fear that you won’t ever be enough; that you can’t satisfy him. It’s just intensified by knowing that he’s been intimate with those two girls in a way that you have yet to be with him. You don’t want to move too fast, and Shawn says he’s fine with it. Is he really, though?

Turning around, you set your course for the upstairs bathroom, needing some space. You practically run up the stairs, sprinting to the bathroom which is thankfully empty, locking the door behind you.

There’s a part of your brain that screams at you to shut up and calm down. You believe Shawn; you trust him. Unfortunately, there’s a much bigger part that tells you to consider the facts - even the unpleasant ones. In all the years, you’ve known Shawn, he’s never been one for settling down; he’s never had a girlfriend. It makes you wonder if it’s because he’s not one for monogamy. He’s never felt about anyone the way he feels about me, you think to yourself, that’s what he swore. The fear has settled, however. No matter what you do to push it back where it came from, it has reared its ugly head and won’t go.

After a few minutes, you decide to go downstairs again. This time, Shawn spots you when you enter the living room and excuses himself to the girls who give you rather dirty looks. He’s none the wiser, smiling brightly, placing a kiss on your forehead when he reaches you.

“I’m gonna go home,” you say, unable to return the smile. “I’ll get my dad to come and get me.” Shawn stares at you for a couple of moments, his head tilted to the side.

“Are you okay?” he asks, concern lacing his voice. You only nod, and you can tell it doesn’t convince him, but he doesn’t press for more. “I’ll take you home, then.”

That’s really not what you want. “No, no, stay! You gotta take the others home too,”

Shawn shrugs. “I’ll come back here, I guess,” It has your heart sinking when you realize that he’s going to be on his own here either way. You can still see the two girls out of the corner of your eye, and they’re practically glaring at you.

He must have noticed that they were fawning over him. He must have realized that they were flirting with him. It didn’t seem much like he was turning them down with the way he was sitting - arms around them and everything. It makes you a bit sick to even think about.

When you snap out of it, Shawn is still looking at you expectantly, and he’s obviously waiting for a reply.

“Fine,” is all you say.

You and Shawn have already perfected the art of comfortable silences, but the one in his car on the way to your house is far from comfortable. It’s awkward and strained, questions hanging unanswered in the air. He tries to put a hand on your thigh, but when you tense and recoil from his touch, he removes it again. When Shawn pulls up in front of your house, you’re quick to unfasten the seat belt, and you’ve just grabbed the car door handle when he speaks again.

“Wait!” he blurts out, and you comply, sinking back into your seat, but keeping your eyes away from him. “Baby, something’s wrong, right? Did I do something?” You sigh as you finally establish eye contact with him, and it’s a heavy sound, weighing down on the atmosphere even more.

“You seriously don’t know, do you?” you ask, your tone accusatory, and it almost angers you when he just raises his eyebrows and gives you a dumbfounded look. “You really can’t see anything you did wrong? Not even with those girls?” It seems like it dawns on him what you mean, and he closes his eyes for a moment, leaning back his head. “They were all over you, Shawn! I swear, one of them was even like… touching your chest and shit!”

He waits for a few seconds before he answers. “Nothing happened,” Simple as that, you suppose he thinks.

You scoff. “Maybe not tonight. But it has before,”

“That’s in the past,”

“Not for them, obviously,”

“Well, maybe not for them,” Shawn says, and you notice how his voice has gotten just a tiny bit harsher, a bit more annoyed. “But it is for me. I’m done with that shit,” You feel the tears starting to press, but you fight to keep them back. “I thought we’d been over this.”

“How do you think it makes me feel?” you begin, your own voice cracking. “They were flirting with you, and you didn’t even reject them!” A solitary tear manages an escape, and soon your cheeks are wet with the flood from your eyes. Shawn is lost, perhaps not knowing what to say. That only makes it worse. “I’m gonna go.” Before he has time to react, you’re out of the car, slamming the door behind you. As you walk into your front yard, you kind of wish he’d come after you; show you how much you mean to him. He doesn’t, though.

You don’t get much sleep. You spend the night crying in fits and doubting your choice to confront Shawn. Your phone buzzes continuously with calls and messages from him that you don’t answer or read, but they stop coming at one point too.

In the morning, you force yourself to go down and eat. Of course, your parents notice your puffy eyes and inquire about the reason, but you’re not willing to share it with them. Thankfully, they don’t start an interrogation, just letting you eat in peace. You return to your room and crawl into bed again.

You're not entirely sure how many hours pass before you're woken from your sleepless daze, the doorbell going off downstairs. You can't help but wonder who's at the door, but as soon as you've started pondering, a possibility pops into your head.

Jumping from your mattress, you rush to the window, and your suspicions are confirmed. There's a car outside that you know quite well at this point. Shawn. It isn't long before you hear footsteps on the staircase, and you know who's coming. Making a quick effort to at least look a little like you haven't bawled your eyes out, you pinch your cheeks to draw some colour to your face, and you straighten out your clothes. You do wish you didn't have to do this in an old, worn sweater and leggings, to be honest. There's a knock on the door, and you take a deep breath.

“It's me, Y/N,” Shawn calls out, so you tell him to enter. The door creaks slightly as he comes in, a careful and hesitant movement. You watch while he closes it behind him with as little force as possible. You can't be sure why he acts that way, but you interpret as a peace offering - him letting you know he's not angry. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you say, keeping your distance, still by the window on the opposite end of the room. “Why are you here?”

He takes a step forward. “To talk. Explain myself,” You nod and walk to your bed, and you sit down so your back is up against the headboard.

You pat in front of you. “Then talk,” Shawn listens and sits where you want him to, still maintaining a respectful distance. He crosses his legs underneath him like you have done too, and then there’s a short silence while he’s finding the right words.

“I’m sorry,” A pause.

“Is that all?”

“No, no!” Shawn exclaims, shaking his head wildly. “There’s more. Much more,” He shifts in his seat and runs his palms up his thighs, and you see the stain it leaves on his black jeans. Sweaty hands, you realize, he’s nervous. You can’t be sure whether his nervosity is a good or bad sign. “I’m sorry that I behaved like an asshole. When you called me out on it, I just got offended, and that’s not right.”

You glance down at your sheets. “No, it’s not,”

“They were flirting with me, and I knew that,” he admits with a sigh at the end. “I just… I didn’t know what to do! That’s a fucking terrible excuse, but it’s the truth,” You can’t say you disagree with him. It’s an insanely bad excuse, yet you believe him. “I’ve never had a girlfriend before. I don’t know how it works or what you’re allowed to do. I swear, nothing would’ve happened with those girls. I can’t do that to you.”

You fight a smile. “On your sister’s life?” He nods, taking your hand in his.

“On my sister’s life, baby. Never gonna do that to you,” Shawn continues. “I really like you, remember?” There’s an attempt from you to suppress a chuckle, but it slips out anyway. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make you feel safe. If you want me to stop talking to girls at all, that’s what I’ll do.”

“No, Shawn,” you protest, grinning at his devotion. “I’m not gonna be that type of girlfriend. You’re allowed to talk to girls!” He nods and honestly reminds you a bit of a puppy, eagerly following orders. You really have him wrapped around your finger. “But maybe don’t act like that with girls you’ve fucked before? And who you know want to fuck you again?”

He nods again, making you laugh. “Of course. Anything for you, baby,”

A smile spreads on your face, and you lean in, pressing a kiss to his forehead. He reaches out for you and pulls you into his lap, but he only wants to hold you. In this close proximity, you get a chance to really take in his face. He looks tired. Bags under his eyes and everything. In concern, you retreat a little, staring into his weary eyes.

“Have you slept? Like at all?” you ask Shawn, and to your horror, he shakes his head. It’s of course a bit hypocritical of you to be so horrified, considering you haven’t slept either. It brings an idea to mind, though. “Wanna nap?”

“Only if we can cuddle,”

“Anything for you, baby,”

It’s almost dark outside again when you wake. At first, you wonder what’s woken you up, but a quick glance at your phone on the nightstand tells you the answer. It’s lit up, signalling a new message or call.

You don’t want to move, though. You’re snuggled up to Shawn’s chest, his arms secured around you, holding you close. Not only are you under the warm covers, but his body is much like a furnace beside you as well. You are so comfy.

Begrudgingly, you wiggle your way out of his grasp, trying to be as careful as possible, not wanting to wake him. He looks adorable when he sleeps - almost angelic. His light snores are almost comforting to hear, and that’s not something you thought you would ever say about snoring. He’s got you wrapped around his finger too. You rise from the bed and grab your phone, moving to the window so to not disturb him with the light from the screen. It’s a message from your mom.

Mom: Does Shawn want to stay for dinner? Making lasagna! :D

It warms your heart to read it, and you can’t really figure out why. Maybe it’s just the absolute nonchalance your mother has about asking. No planning beforehand, just asking your boyfriend to stay for dinner. Nothing fancy to impress him, just… lasagna. It’s kind of hard to explain why it makes you feel giddy.

You hear the duvet shuffle behind you, and when you turn around, Shawn is sitting up, supporting himself with his right arm. With a sleepy expression on his face, he looks out the window to see that the sun is nearly gone. It’s early in the month of November, but it is already getting darker faster and faster.

“Mom wants to know if you’ll stay and eat,” you say, and he gives a nod along with a lazy smile, letting his free hand rub his eyes. “I’ll text back, then.”

“I have to write to my dad as well,” Shawn adds, his voice raspy, and he reaches down under the covers to fish out his phone from the pocket of his jeans. “Tell him I’m not coming home for dinner.”

You climb back under the duvet, placing your phone back on the nightstand, before you cuddle into Shawn again. He puts down his phone too once he’s sent a message to his father, and then he presses a kiss to your lips. He intends for it to be short and sweet, but your hands are quick to pull him back to you, kissing him with more fervor.

Within a matter of seconds, you roll on top of Shawn, a new energy having taken over you. He hums against your lips in appreciation, and his hands wander down to your sides, squeezing ever so slightly. It evolves into that kind of slow, lazy makeout session, no worries or hurries, nothing to do and nowhere to be. After a while, Shawn does roll you off him again so you land by his side, and he snuggles into you this time.

“I’m falling in love with you,” he mumbles, his face buried in your t-shirt, and you can’t stop the giggle that leaves your throat.

“That’s good to hear, Mendes,” you say, grinning brighter than the sun, running your fingers through his curls. “‘Cause I’m falling in love with you too.”

@sauveteen @flickershawn @peachnpomegranate @infiniteshawn @muffinmendussy @wronglaneassholeshawn @me-a-hopeless-romantic @couple100miles @rishlo @wdwisperfect @shawnxmendesxo @shawnsmercy @justanotherfangurl272

#mine #text #shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes fic #bad boy!shawn #badboy!shawn

[bitternessbitesback]

Birds Of A Feather

AO3 FFN

Summary:  It was funny, really, someone like her dating someone like him. She was a bright and preppy whilst he was a cynical pessimist. People always say opposites attract, so who are they to disagree?

Pairing: Sasori/Sakura

      The two are like night and day, dark and light, yin and yang. One would think neither Sasori nor Sakura would ever be able to put aside their differences long enough to even think about dating, and yet here they were. Sitting in the mall food court doing just that. Sasori's friendly can recall just how many times the red haired man has lamented on and on about how he despises shopping despite the fact he went constantly with the pink haired medic. Never once complaining when his girlfriend drags them into the fifteenth store to try on a multitude of items only to either walk out with nothing or just a couple things. It was a well known fact that while Sasori acted patient, he was not a patient man. His friends honestly had no clue how the man could put up with the lively and talkative woman until they saw how soft his eyes seemed to get whenever she was around. Somehow, in spite of his introverted nature, the man always spent as much time as possible with the extroverted pinkette.

       Much like Sasori's friends, Sakura's friends also didn't quite understand how the two were dating. Ino could list five different times off the top of her head when the medic would burst into their shared apartment, annoyed at something a kid in her art class had done, only to find out that it was Sasori all along years later. Although the blonde was grateful to no longer have her messy best friend living with her, Ino couldn't help but worry about the other woman. Sasori was mean, cold, calculating, and incredibly cunning. The blue eyes woman is also convinced his morals are all out of wack regardless of Sakura constantly saying otherwise. Ino could tell, despite her preconceived notions of the man, that he made the green eyed girl much happier than the blonde had ever seen. 

       So in spite of some people's curious gazes, the two continued to enjoy themselves, laughing as they munched on mediocre mall food. Though Sakura would never admit it out loud, she too couldn't believe how the both of them have been together so long. Most men she dated got intimidated by her thriving career, fiery temper, and the fact that 9 times out of ten she was stronger than them. Sasori never once gave off that vibe and always told her how proud he was that she reached a new fitness goal or got a promotion at work. Those aren't the only reason's though for the unwelcome thoughts lingering in the back of her mind.

       Sakura was very messy, something Sasori absolutely couldn't stand, and they used to get into loads of arguments when they first moved in together. Since then she's actually gotten better about not just leaving her clothes lying around and actually doing the dishes once in a while. It's actually a little funny how he pretends to be annoyed when she puts her laundry in with his and he tells her to knock it off but does it anyway.

       Whenever she thinks about how little they have in common, she just laughs because there is so much that they do have in common, but sometimes she thinks they really are like yin and yang. For example, Sasori is such an art snob sometimes and even though she took an art class for college, she just doesn't get what he gets into arguments with Deidara for. After all, art is art, right? Wrong apparently as Sakura found out once as they both started spouting nonsense at her when she was trying to calm them down. Another example is how she is literally the definition of a prep/jock, and he is the embodiment of an angsty emo (eyeliner and all that Sakura (not so)secretly thinks is hot). And although he is taller than her, she can hold her liquor better, which you would never know since she gets into shenanigans more often due to two certain blonde friends of hers.

       Despite their differences though, they really do have somethings in common. They can both cook. for instance, even if his food always tastes better. They're both interested in medicine, albeit different sides of medicine. They both get jealous easily even though they trust each other 100%. She likes working out and he likes watching her work out, definitely not because she gets all sweaty and her hair is messed up, no way no how. Sasori loves it when she walks around their house wearing his shirts as does she. Both of them also really enjoy cuddling with Sakura as the big spoon holding Sasori while she plays with her hair. He loves drawing her and she loves that he thinks she's worthy of being drawn.

       Honestly there are as many differences as there are similarities between them, but the one that really brings them together is the fact that they're both only children. They understand what it's like to grow up wanting for siblings and finding them in your obnoxious blond friends instead. Sure they could focus on the differences that shouldn't make their relationship work like so many others, but why would they? Yeah, they could break up right now, or even tomorrow because of them, but if they only focused on the negatives that's exactly what would happen. After all, regardless of whether or not their relationship lasts, Sakura is going to continue to mooch off of her boyfriend for his heavenly back massages.

"You about finished with your smoothie?" Sasori questioned, breaking the girl from her thoughts.

       She took an extra large sip from her banana smoothie, a slurping sound coming from the straw letting them both know it was empty, while she raised one eyebrow up at him in response.

"Wow, Haruno, could've said 'no'." He teased in a sarcastic tone, "You don't have to be so dramatic."

"Oh as if I'm the dramatic one in this relationship," A scoff followed the end of her sentence as the pinkette stood up to throw their trash away.

"Nobody would be surprised." He retorted, grabbing her bags and following her lead.

"Just cause you've got them all fooled Red."

"Psh, whatever, you're the one who has everybody wrapped around her little finger."

"Oh are you jealous?"

"Hah! Of you? Never."

"I can see right through you sweetie, you're so jealous that Konan loves me more than you even though you've been friends longer."

"As if Haruno, I can't hold that against Konan or you for that matter since everyone who even comes within a five mile radius of you is immediately struck by cupid's bow."

       The woman merely scoffs and shakes her head at the absurd notion, a light blush dusting her cheeks. Sasori knew just the right thing to say to make her feel like a schoolgirl again. Giving her a light, happy feeling in her chest as her heart beat a little too fast for her liking. The man in question simply places his arm around her shoulders and pull her closer to him as they continue walking past stores and out to the parking lot.

"We done for the day?" Sasori inquired.

"Yeah," Sakura replied thoughtfully, "I'm pretty sure we've got the prefect gifts for everybody as well as some cute outfits for me, of course."

"Of course." He joked back, looking down at her with nothing short of adoration in his eyes.

       Sasori was not an overly affectionate man and he certainly did not like PDA. In general he was not even considered a loving man, in fact Sakura was the first real girlfriend he'd ever had. Of course he's dated girls before and slept around, but none of them ever made him feel anything. That was naturally before Sakura came running head first into his life, literally. She came barreling through the door of his art class on the first day of school and fell over herself trying to slow down so as not to run into him, but ultimately failing as they collided and their collective stuff fell to the ground with them. He was naturally annoyed with her, so he told her off, shocked when she decided to tell him off back. From then on he was intrigued by the energetic pink haired girl who's name he failed to catch.

       Growing up in a small town, Sasori was used to all the woman being polite and meek, and obviously Sakura was anything but. She is wild and loud and snorts when she laughs too hard. Sakura Haruno is a spitfire and if the red haired man was being honest with himself, he quite enjoyed teasing her and watching as her cheeks turned red from anger, although he wasn't sure why. After all, he'd never felt anything for anybody before, so why on earth would him having feelings for her even make the 'top 20 reasons why he could do this list' in his head? He actually told his grandmother about the strange woman in his class during winter break and could not for the life of him realize why the old lady was suddenly on the floor laughing her pants off at him.

"How did I raise such an oblivious child?" She asked him once she finally stopped chortling, "How is it you are so observant when it comes to other people, yet so obtuse when it comes to yourself and your own emotions?"

"What on earth are you talking about old lady?" He was getting tired of this.

"Honestly kid," She wiped a tear from her eye and chuckled in disbelief, "I never thought I'd see the day you'd actually get a crush on someone."

"I don't have a crush on her. She's annoying and obnoxious and her sense of justice is overpowering!"

"Whatever you say dear." His Grandma Chiyo was starting to walk away.

"She can't even draw!" Laughs could be heard from the kitchen as he called after her, " She didn't even know what oil paints were until last week!"

       Of course his grandmother was right, but Sasori wouldn't let the woman know that, despite the fact that the man introduced the two most important women in his life just after three short months of dating. Now here they are, going on six years, and he had never been happier in his entire life. At first Sasori was afraid of how much he cared about Sakura in the beginning and actually started to push the poor woman away. Could you blame him though? Here this seemingly perfect woman comes into his life, pulling his walls down brick by brick, and you expect him to not freak out? Especially one who wears her heart on her sleeve and seems to be everything he's not. However she was much smarter than she let on and refused to let Sasori shut her out. She actually came knocking on his door after the third day of silence and demanded to be let in. That was their first real fight and their combined tempers made it explosive. Somehow Sakura managed to calm down, which calmed him down, and they were able to have an actual progressive conversation as opposed to a screaming match, trying to force their beliefs on one another.

       They've been going strong ever since and Sakura has proved over and over that his insecurities about their relationship are unfounded as she will always prove just how willing she is to work on their relationship together. She eases his anxieties and vise versa. Who cares if he's a morning person and she's not, or if he enjoys quiet nights in while she wants to go out? Though are trivial things that don't matter when one looks at the big picture. Sasori can feel the familiar weight in his right inside pocket, the small box bringing a comforting feeling to the otherwise apprehensive man.

"When are you going to get hitched?" His grandmother's voice rang in the back of his head as the memory of her words played over and over in his mind. She always asked that whenever they would visit, always making sure to pull the man aside.

       Sasori always shrugged off the question, acting nonchalant about it. To be fair the ring has been sitting in his pocket for a little over two years now, but he never managed to find the right time. Sakura was constantly busy with her career and finishing off her last year of school, not to mention how she always had her friend dates every Thursday. Honestly the man took what he got when it came to what little free time the pinkette had, he was selfish like that. Was it wrong to want her all to himself though? He didn't think so, and Sakura didn't seem to mind either.

       He coveted the nights when she was able to get off early and he could actually make her dinner, or their lunches together in his studio. He enjoyed being able to draw her sleeping form as the sun began to peek above the horizon and creating a halo effect on the woman. As an artist, his girlfriend was quite possibly the most exquisite thing he'd ever had the honor of bestowing his eyes upon, especially when she was resting as the tension left her shoulders and pink strands fell around and on her face.

       Who cares if she makes him go hiking with her when he just wants to read a book? Her excuse is that she wants a workout buddy, but he knows she already has one. That just means she wants to spend time with him, and who is he to object? Really, everybody knows Sakura's the boss in their relationship anyway and he couldn't tell her no if he tried. Yeah he'll pretend to make a show of it whenever she asks him to go on a new trail with her, but that doesn't mean he doesn't already have his shoes on before the words even left her mouth. Plus, if she makes him go hiking then that means he gets to drag her to every boring art show he has to go to and show her off. The other people are superficial at those events anyway and somehow his girlfriend is the master of small talk, and he really thinks she's an angel at least fifty times a day.

               The red haired man probably couldn't have fallen harder for anybody else if he tried. Sasori was looking forward to having her yell at him for using all the hot water cause his showers took too long again, or how they can simultaneously sit in comfortable silence for hours on end and talk non-stop. Their conversations are enlightening and she forces him to look at things from a new perspective, her optimism rubbing off on him. Sakura Haruno is a storm and he is looking forward to each new day alongside her.

"What do you think of Akasuna no Sakura?" Sasori asked to woman beside him as they finally made it to their car, the sun beginning to set.

The question seemed to catch her off guard for a second as she simply looked at him before replying, "That's okay, but what about Sasori Haruno?"

               He shrugged and they got in the car and he started it, looking at his girlfriend from the corner of his eye.

"I don't mind it." The red haired man told her casually.

"Oh really now?" She inquired.

"Yeah." The radio played quietly as he waited for Sakura's reply.

"Did you just propose to me?"

"I suppose I did."

       This caused a laugh to rip through the woman's throat as Sasori looked at her quizzically, trying to pay attention to the cars driving around them, a slight annoyance flowing through him. Was the thought of marrying him really that funny? He was about to tell her off but then she started speaking.

"About time."

"What? What does that mean?"

"You know what it means Red."

"How long have you been waiting for me to propose?"

"How long have you had that ring in your pocket?"

They were almost home now, but that made Sasori do a double take. She knew? "You knew?"

"Of course I did, you started acting a little weird when I wore your jackets and always insisted on checking the pockets first."

       They pull into their garage, park, and he just looks at her for a minute. Really looks at her. Takes in her short pink hair that's no longer a chin length and to her shoulders, her emerald eyes that always had a mischievous twinkle in them, her straight nose that was just a little crooked from being broken although you couldn't tell unless she told you. She gives him her sweet smile that he knows never reached her eyes in the beginning of their rocky friendship, but is delighted at the fact that it almost always does now. Sakura was a firecracker and now she'd be his firecracker forever.

       Slowly he takes the ring box out of his pocket and her eyes follow the movement. Sasori opens it and takes her hand in his as she waits for him to speak those life changing words, both still in the car as one of them holds her breath. Meanwhile he takes a deep breath to steel his nerves, all the words he wanted to say, all the things she means to him, have suddenly vanished from his brain. It doesn't matter though, he can always tell her in his vows and every single day for the rest of his life if she wanted him to.

"Will you, Sakura Haruno, do me the pleasure and honor of becoming my wife?"

"Of course," She replies with a sigh, letting him put the ring on her finger before pulling him into a kiss.

#fanfiction #my writing #sasosaku #sasori #sasori of the red sand #chiyo #sakura haruno #naruto #same age au #real world au #bitternessbitesback #please read and give me feedback #thank you!!! #i love you all!!! #sorry to mobile users! #i put the read more two paragraphs in #whoops

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 045: Superhero Names

Previously on BnHA: Everyone licked their emotional wounds from the sports festival arc. You wouldn’t think a simple sports festival would cause so many emotional wounds, but here we are. All Might hugged some kids. Iida visited his brother in the hospital. Todoroki visited his mom. Ochako’s parents came to cheer her up. Deku ate dinner. Bakugou brushed his teeth.

Today on BnHA: Aizawa wears an infinity scarf. Deku gets mobbed by people on a train. The draft pick totals are announced. The kids pick their superhero aliases. Somehow this ended up being one of my longest recaps ever because I went off on tangents like three separate times, talking about everything from the new volume’s character page to the stuff I think I might have been spoiled for by accident. Like, when I went back to edit this it was like whoa.

(As always, all comments not marked with an ETA are my unspoiled reactions from my first readthrough of this chapter. I’ve read up through chapter 104 now, so any ETAs will reflect that.)

looks like it’s the start of another new volume (and arc!), so let’s see what extras we’ve got today!

well there’s not much end-of-volume-5 stuff, but I did find this fascinating

honestly, this wrapped up in less than 20 chapters though. to me that’s incredibly fast. either way, I have to hand it to him, because the pacing was just about perfect. nothing dragged out to the point of becoming boring, and we didn’t waste time on anything we didn’t need to see, but we did get to see just about everyone have at least one cool moment. that’s about all you can ask for, really.

and lord, have you ever heard of a final battle in a tournament arc lasting just a single chapter?? I still can’t get over that ending. that just flew in the face of everything I’ve come to anticipate from a Jump manga, and once I realized what was happening it was as much a thrill as it was a shock.

apparently Endeavor was on the back of this volume cover the whole time. hey, Endeavor!! [deep breath] ...FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK YOUUUUUUU

all right, on to the new volume!

goddamn this series’s cover art is something else

is Iida even wearing his glasses here?? (ETA: nope!) 

he looks so cool and barely like the usual Iida at all

that Stain guy really fucking looks like Small Gia you guys. I apologize in advance if this ends up being something I never stop talking about

and I see Deku’s back in his original costume, but with a couple of upgrades. got what appears to be new gloves, some lines on his jumpsuit that I don’t remember seeing before (ETA: because they’ve changed color), reinforced collar/shoulder protection, and did he always have those big knee guards before? at any rate, it’s a vast improvement on the original look and I approve

what is this

why would Ochako dress up as a giant cancelled sign

and Deku’s Tokoyami hat is both so cute and so disturbing to me. cute because it’s so damn cute look at it, and disturbing because it’s realistic to the point of looking like his actual severed head almost

also are they working at a 7-11 or something. lol

volume title: “Struggling.” I’m feeling it. very relatable

all of the characters are wearing street clothes on the character page!

oh my god Aizawa’s infinity scarfff

SHOUJI WITH ONE OF HIS INFAMOUS PONCHOS

I CAN’T TELL IF DEKU’S ARM IS FUCKED UP FROM THIS ANGLE DAMMIT

DOES HORIKOSHI HAVE SOMETHING AGAINST DRAWING JACKETS/SWEATERS/BUTTON-DOWN SHIRTS THAT ARE A NORMAL LENGTH

BAKUGOU WILL JUST ALWAYS BE WEARING HIS PANTS LIKE A GOOD 3 INCHES BELOW WHERE THEY ACTUALLY SHOULD BE HUH

SHOUTO WITH THE THREE-QUARTER-LENGTH SLEEVED SWEATER. I DON’T KNOW WHAT ELSE TO SAY ABOUT THAT. IT LOOKS REALLY GOOD ON HIM THOUGH

AIZAWA’S SCARF DESERVES ANOTHER MENTION EVEN THOUGH I ALREADY MENTIONED IT. BRO LOOKS LIKE LENNY KRAVITZ AND I’M HERE FOR IT

IT’S A CRIME THAT SO MUCH OF JIROU IS HIDDEN BEHIND IIDA’S GIANT FORTY-YEAR-OLD MAN HEAD BECAUSE I LOVE HER FASHION SENSE SO MUCH AND THAT JACKET LOOKS SO FUCKING FINE ON HER WORK IT GURL!!

LAST BUT NOT LEAST ALL MIGHT WITH THAT BLAZER. ALL MIGHT YOU LOOK SO DAMN GOOD, IF YOU WERE A PHASER ON STAR TREK YOU’D BE SET TO STUN MY GOOD MAN

like a fool, I didn’t scroll past the table of contents quickly enough and my eyes glanced over the title “Gran Torino Appears.” and that shit sounds fucking familiar. some part of my brain that picks up on subconscious clues is telling me that this person is All Might’s master. guess we’ll find out probably in the next chapter. or at the end of this one maybe

Deku is on the train to school and people are recognizing him

“wow you’re that crazy kid from the sports festival, right? you were just sooooo crazy you little wackadoodle.”

but actually he seems to be getting praise from them! some guy is giving him a thumbs up

and now he’s surrounded

this might not be so good, actually. these people are fairly harmless, but this could get out of hand pretty quickly. there’s a reason celebrities always have bodyguards around. and we live in a world without supervillains. these kids are just kids, but some of them have already become household names and faces, and we know that at least a couple of them have also attracted some villainous interest as well. they’re safe enough at school with the security there (I know, I know, but they must have learned their lesson after the last time), but outside is a different story

I’ve been meaning to bring this up at some point, and now seems as good a time as any: another thing I’ve been spoiled about is the fact that I’m pretty sure at some point, some or possibly all of the kids from class A move into U.A. dorms. I’ve seen dorms mentioned enough that I’m pretty sure it’s a canon thing (I wasn’t sure at first). so since then I’ve been on the alert for this to come up, and if/when it does, I’m thinking something like this might be the reason why

and since we’re on the subject, here is a brief list of the other (still relatively few) things I’ve been spoiled for/sort of spoiled for:

Aizawa’s ridiculously hot ponytail. also a scar that’s under his right eye, but I’m thinking that he probably got that during his fight with Noumu and I just haven’t seen it yet because he still had bandages on his face during the festival

at some point there is going to be something really angsty involving Bakugou. because I know I’ve had an irrational love for him since the start, but at some point it seems like something’s going to happen with him that causes just about everyone to feel sympathetic toward him lol. I have no clue at all what this thing is going to be though

this Bakugou angst is going to lead to some good BakuDeku shit. I don’t know what shit, but I can’t wait for it. I have a feeling it’s still a looooong ways out, though

(ETA: well we did have an arc where Bakugou got kidnapped, so for a while I was sure this was what all the angst was about. but now that’s done and things have quieted down again, and we still haven’t gotten that BakuDeku goodness, so I’m thinking there must be still more angst on the horizon! which, frankly, good. yes. moooooore bring me more)

there is some guy with wings I think. not sure what his deal is

I keep seeing Shinsou in a mask similar to Deku’s

lastly, I blame the anime for this because they’ve thrown in some filler related to it that no one asked for, but: I’m pretty sure I’ve seen All Might’s master. but I kept throwing my hands up in front of my face or looking away or closing my eyes whenever I realized what was going on lol. but he was writing a letter to someone in episode 13, and I figure it has to be this person. and I saw like a brief silhouette of someone with long dark hair. and I think I’ve seen fanart of this person before. I can’t quite remember the details of it but I feel like this person is probably the aforementioned Gran Torino? the good thing is it seems like I don’t have much longer to wait before I finally find out more about that one.

(ETA: so obviously the person in question with the long hair was Shimura rather than Gran. so I was spoiled but also not spoiled I guess, because even though I’d gleaned Gran’s name from somewhere, I never actually saw him until he made his appearance in the manga.)

anyways, that’s it as far as I can recall!

so Deku’s made it to school now but he’s really tired. probably from all the nearly dying two days ago

someone’s running up behind him in a raincoat, and this bulky frame with its awkward arm motions could really only be one person

yep

never does anything halfway, this guy

Deku says they’ve still got five minutes before the first bell rings, but Iida insists that “the students of U.A. make it a point to arrive ten minutes early!!” wow I really would not have done well in this school

Iida immediately tells Deku he doesn’t need to worry about his brother and he’s sorry if they caused him any concern

the way he says it and the way Deku stares at him and dots afterward makes me think there is indeed cause for concern though. plus, like. you were on the volume cover, Iida

looks like all the kids had strangers coming up to them and congratulating them on their efforts

WOW look how well Aizawa has them trained

EVEN BAKUGOU WOW. Sero and Kouda switched desks, Ochako sprinted twenty feet all the way her seat at the back of the room, and Kaminari fucking teleported into his seat out of nowhere damn

so let’s see if this man has that eye scar now, then!

yes!!!

holy shit, and this is going to be there for the rest of the series. I fucking love attention to detail like this

what is hero informatics class. that sounds like something Deku would excel in. Deku should probably teach the damn class

Kirishima says it’s stuff about “hero law and junk.” oh my god I instantly have so many questions

GASP!!!!!!

GOOD LUCK BEATING MY NICKNAMES FOR ALL OF YOU LOSERS. OH MY GOD I’M SO EXCITED LOL

also, they really let these kids pick out their aliases at age 15? granted, most of them have probably been thinking about this for nearly their entire lives, so it’s not just a spur of the moment thing. but still, that seems awfully risky. I hope they’re allowed to change them later if they wake up one morning cringing over the choice

ohh! but first, pro draft picks!

he says it’s based on who the pros think will be ready to join the workforce after another 2-3 years of experience... so after graduation, basically. or really whenever they turn 18. well that makes sense

he says it’s not a guarantee of anything though; the offers can still be revoked if things don’t pan out

jesus christ

the top four stole the show, but the top two are in their own fucking league

worth nothing that Bakugou managed these numbers even with his personality out there on full display as well

I think a large part of that has to do with the guy that raked in 4,123 draft picks. the fact that Todoroki is that powerful and Bakugou still managed to beat him in the finals. of course, that wasn’t him at full power though, which I expect Bakugou is still salty about and will be for quite some time

only 108 people recognized Momo’s utter flawlessness. that’s everyone else’s loss

and even fewer gave Ochako a chance, but at least she still got 20!

and of course the most notable thing about the entire board is the fact that Deku’s not up there at all, which is fully understandable since his power’s drawback was thrust into the spotlight. I can’t imagine any pro hero agency wants to deal with that. 

well, it’s just like he was thinking back in the last chapter -- he’ll just have to find another way to manage things

poor Aoyama is in a huff about not having gotten any picks either

Momo congratulates Shouto, but he says it’s mostly just his dad’s influence. I really hope he can break away from that eventually. basically his entire life has centered around his dad up till this point, first with him being trained as his successor, and then later when he became obsessed with defying him. I just want him to be able to go after his dreams for his own sake and have pride in himself on his own merits without worrying about his parentage and how that comes into it

Mineta is shaking Deku and telling him, “I told you you scared them,” and no one fucking cares about your opinion on anything Mineta. this isn’t news to anyone

anyhow, Aizawa says that whether they were picked or not, they’ll all get a chance to work with the pros as part of their education

oh thank god, he says the names are only tentative. “but you’ll still want to pick something appropriate.”

now someone else is cutting in and screaming “OR ELSE YOU’LL KNOW TRUE HELL”

oh my god please let this be some poor sap who got saddled with the worst superhero name ever

nope it’s just Midnight

but she says the name might end up being what the world ends up calling them, so they still need to pick carefully

oh, true... if something eventful happened and the media ended up reporting on it, what was previously a “tentative” name might end up becoming a permanent one just like that

then again, IRL celebs change their names all the time and no one usually bats an eye

also Marvel superheroes change their names a fucking lot too. “it’s Iron Patriot now.”

looks like Midnight is here to make sure they don’t fuck it up. Aizawa says he’s no good at that lol. you picked the best fucking name out of anyone, fucking Eraser Head

my gooood I’m so curious and so excited to see what they pick. I haven’t been spoiled for any of this at all, and I’ve barely done any speculating, because I tend to just pick the first thing that pops into my head and stick with it, myself

they only got 15 minutes to do this, but like I said, I can’t imagine a single one of them hasn’t already thought this out. at worst, a few of them might have a little trouble narrowing down like a top 2 or 3

oh my god Aoyama

it’s perfect

omg Midnight is so supportive and nonjudgmental. all she does is tell him it’ll be “easier” if he takes out the “I” and changes “cannot” to “can’t”

but are you really telling me that this twinkly little lad is about to make his debut as “cantstoptwinkling.” because that literally is a tumblr handle

Mina wants to be known as “Alien Queen”

also this finally all but confirms that her quirk is indeed acid. you all have no idea how long that speculation was eating at me

(ETA: pretty sure you do by this point since this is like the 10th time I’ve mentioned it haha)

Tsuyu’s up next! the best nickname I had for her was “frog girl.” she’s chosen to go as Froppy instead which is the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever heard in my life

OH MY GOD MY BOY KIRISHIMA WENT AND PICKED “RED RIOT”, FUCK YEAH WHAT A NAME. APPARENTLY IT’S DERIVATIVE AND HE BASICALLY STOLE IT FROM ANOTHER GUY NAMED CRIMSON RIOT, WHICH IS SOMEHOW EVEN RADDER. BUT THEY’RE CALLING IT AN “HOMAGE” SO HOPEFULLY THEY’LL AVOID ANY LEGAL TROUBLE

speaking of people who want to pay homage, Deku has a whole fucking list of All Might tribute names

it’s a toss-up between “All Might Jr.” and “Mighty Boy”, clearly

I’m personally hoping for some kind of Alexander Dumas-related thing, going with the One for All theme, but I doubt we’ll go that route

(ETA: cuz we were saving it for the bad guy, clearly!)

Kirishima really hasn’t thought of a name yet??? dude, lightning is literally the easiest element to make a badass name from. see: Wikipedia’s list of fictional characters with electric or magnetic abilities. just fucking name yourself Zeus or some shit

Jirou tapped him on the shoulder and said “how about Jamming-Yayyy” and I'm pretty sure she was just fucking with him but he actually seems really into it omg

her face I can’t

(ETA: Jirou’s inability to keep from cracking up when Kami overuses his quirk is possibly my favorite running gag in the series)

so now we’ve got Jirou, Shouji, and Sero as Earphone Jack, Tentacole, and Cellophane. all good names, though Jirou really went full literal, there. just went for broke on being as straightforward as possible

though nothing beats “Tailman” for literal

Satou’s sign says “Sweets” hero and his name is Sugarman?? first of all, I LOVE IT, and second, DUDE WHAT THE FUCK. this guy’s really been out here the whole time with some kind of donuts power or something and he somehow passed the entrance exam with it and we still have yet to see it??

AND HOMESTUCK’S CHANGED HER NAME TO PINKY NOW LMAO

Kaminari ended up going with Chargebolt, and for some reason he wrote this longass math equation explaining it, just in case it somehow wasn’t clear

HAGAKURE LITERALLY PICKED THE NAME I’VE BEEN CALLING HER THIS ENTIRE TIME GOD BLESS YOU GIRL

THAT’S ONE OUT OF TWENTY. I’LL TAKE IT

Momo went with “Creati.” I... guess...

OH MY GOD SHOUTO JUST WENT OUT AND HIT A HOME FUCKING RUN

OH MY FUCKING GOD LMAO

BUT ALSO, IT’S ACTUALLY A REALLY PERSONAL DECISION FOR HIM, BECAUSE IT’S HIS FIRST NAME AND NOT HIS LAST, AND THUS REFLECTS HIS DETERMINATION TO CAST OFF ANYTHING RELATED TO HIS FATHER

BUT STILL IT’S LITERALLY JUST HIS FIRST NAME OH MY GOD I LAUGHED SO FUCKING HARD. THERE WERE TEARS

I KNOW WHO TSUKUYOMI IS THANKS TO ITACHI. THANK YOU ITACHI. COOL PICK, TOKOYAMI

FUCK YOU MINETA

MY SOFT ROCK BOY KOUDA IS GOING WITH “ANIMA” AND HE IS DESCRIBING HIMSELF AS A “PETTING HERO” AND I THINK I LOVE HIM

so by my count, that just leaves Iida, Ochako, and my sons

this boy really went and tried to put “murder” in his fucking superhero name

URAVITY

OMG

OCHAKO REALLY WENT AND PUT A FUCKING PUN IN HER NAME

?? Midnight’s saying that the only thing left is Bakugou’s revision? um Deku and Iida are sitting right there??

oh

I should learn to scroll down before I start to fly off the handle like that huh

oh FUCK ME

FUCK. FUCK

okay, so I’ve had a weakness for this very specific type of angst ever since KHR nearly did this to Yamamoto during the Inheritance Arc. in the end he was healed and he made it out okay though. but now, ten years later, Iida’s brother has been sacrificed to the gods of shounen manga angst, and they have finally been appeased. holy shit

so this is going to be a tribute to his brother then I take it

oh!!! his brother asked him to take his name and Iida had started to write it down but then erased it at the last second and put his own first name down, thinking that he wasn’t ready yet :’(

so now it’s just my lads

here goes nothing Deku!

oh my god

based on everyone’s reaction and that remark... lol this fucking guy

lol Kacchan’s face

WHY ARE WE CUTTING AWAY BEFORE I GET TO SEE WHAT BAKUGOU PICKED

oh! someone picked Deku in the draft after all!

All Might’s asking who it is -- OH MY GOD. THAT CHAPTER TITLE FROM BEFORE. DON’T FUCKING TELL ME

based on All Might’s response... yep

and then one last little jokey panel of Bakugou’s revised name “Loud Explosion Murder” lmao. they could be here a while

(ETA: THEY NEVER ACTUALLY REVEALED HIS NAME THOUGH OH MY GOD?? or did they and I somehow missed it? IT’S BEEN 60 FUCKING CHAPTERS. dude what the hell)

BONUS:

oh my god Present Mic is the one who came up with Aizawa’s name. this is probably Mic’s greatest contribution to human society.

young present Mic is adorable and young Aizawa looks like Gaara with messier hair

and today in “Horikoshi explains away plot holes that no one was ever going to care about in the first place”, we have Mina apologizing for mixing up the directors of Alien and Aliens

fucking incredible

#bnha #boku no hero academia #makeste reads bnha #holy shit how do I even tag this though #basically everyone was in this one but I'll just stick with the ones I talked about most #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #aizawa shouta #iida tenya #todoroki shouto #there we go that should do it

[berdbrainx]

Rules for mobile users

[[here’s a google doc for the updated list of rules, applicable for all my blogs]]

anything under this cut is from my outdated rules.

[rules updated: 08/14/2019]

–STUFF YOU SHOULD DO–

• No godmodding. No sending (implied or explicit) homophobic/transphobic/bigoted messages to me or my character either.

• Please don’t over-pester me for replies. I promise I’ll get to them. Feel free to drop me a reminder after at least a week of no replies, though. In return, I usually give you a week too, unless otherwise specified in your own rules, until I remind you if it’s your turn to reply (or more often, I chicken out and trust that you’ll eventually respond/want to drop it and end up never bringing up that particular thread ever again). You’re always free to start multiple threads with me, that is greatly encouraged because I love having lots of threads with people.

• If you start getting bored with the roleplay, feel free to drop it and/or end it. We can always start up another thread in the future.

• However, please let me know if you want to drop a roleplay thread! It can give me major anxiety when I’m waiting for a response that’s never going to come, and I wonder if I did something wrong and assume that’s why you’re not replying anymore :’) I’m not forcing you to let me know if you want to drop a thread, you can drop it without saying anything too. But I personally really appreciate being told about that sort of thing.

• Don’t reblog a thread you’re not part of. This should go without being said, of course. Personals will be hardblocked immediately, rp blogs will receive a warning.

• If you can trim your threads, please do! It's fine if you can't, though, because I will most likely trim the thread for you. If you don't trim threads with other people, however, I'll be less likely to follow you since I don't like scrolling through long posts.

• Please don’t claim any of my art as your own. If you post it somewhere, the least you can do is credit me by at least including a link to my blog or something. Bonus points if you ask me first before reposting my art, but I understand if you’re anxious because so am I :’)

• If any of your art is featured on my blog, as an icon or something and you don’t want me to use your art, please tell me!!! Message me privately or contact me in some way and please let me know that you want your art taken down. As a fellow artist, I understand wanting other people to not use your art (although I am personally fine with it as long as proper credit is given,) but if you’re more strict about it than I am, that’s totally okay too! Just let me know, and I’ll stop using your art immediately, will delete all icons I have of your art, as well as delete every single instance of your art being used on this blog.

• That being said, if you’re following me, please let me know if I’m doing something that’s making you uncomfortable or is breaking one of your rules!! I do read the rules pages of everyone, but I’m human and forget things, and I’m not a mind reader either ;~; I care, so please tell me if I’m ever doing anything bad

• You can reply to any of my open starters at any time! Even if they’re a year old! Even if other people have already replied to it! My open starters are open for a reason, and we don’t have to be mutuals for you to reply to them either :’)

—

–STUFF YOU SHOULD KEEP IN MIND–

• I am of age to do smut, but Berdly is a minor so that is a no for this blog! There will occasionally be sex jokes, but that’s about it. No explicit smut in this house.

• This blog is not a spoiler-free one. I will not tag roleplays with spoilers, but anything else will be tagged with Deltarune Spoilers

• I’m alright with roleplaying nsfw in general, minus smut. Gore, violence, and generally dark roleplays are cool with me. I love angsty things just as much as I love fluff ;w; Speaking of gore, you’re more than welcome to fight/harm/injure my muse to any extent! You don’t even have to ask! Come in and fuckin deck Berdly in the face, I approve greatly!! If you want to do a rp where he dies, however, please dm me first.

• I prefer not to roleplay with personals, unless you are someone I know from school or something like that. Personals in general are allowed to follow me too!  However! Personals are not allowed to reblog roleplays, in character posts, or ooc posts especially if I say in the tags that I'm going to delete the post later. Only things that are tagged with my "musings" or "art tag" tags are okay to reblog. Headcanon posts are not okay to reblog unless I say otherwise.

• Like spamming is okay! I very occasionally lose roleplays, and getting lots of notes from likes are never a factor for that, for me personally. If I lose a roleplay, it’s mostly just because I forgot, so that’s really a “me” thing. I’m usually very good at keeping track of who I’m roleplaying with and how many ongoing threads I have, and I reply pretty consistently, so just remind me if I haven’t responded after five or more days (as stated in one of the above rules)! And I like it when people like my posts! It lets me know that you like my blog and the stuff I post, and it makes me happy :’)

• If you are an OC, I will assume our muses have never met unless you plan ahead with me what their relationship is like.

• That being said, characters who have already interacted in canon will know each other. Unless the roleplay takes place in a different point of time and we are staging their first meeting, of course.

• Doubles are welcome to interact too! Although currently I don’t know of much other Berdly roleplay blogs lmao. I’m also cool with interacting with and following multiple blogs who portray the same character! Such as the Kris squad.

• This blog will not have mains. Other than the Kris at @daggcrisms. That Kris originates in his timeline in the "main verse". Excluding them, he will not have any specific version of a muse that he’ll talk about in threads, unless the thread is specifically about that one muse for some reason. For Deltarune blogs, he will typically be the Berdly in your muse’s timeline in serious roleplays, unless your muse is part of an AU/UA/canon-divergent universe, or there are things about your muse’s backstory that would contradict Berdly being in your timeline naturally (like Berdly being dead or something), or you talk about it with me beforehand. In his “main verse” in spontaneous roleplays/asks/replies to in-character posts, he resides in his own separate timeline. It’s a classic timeline that doesn’t have any other muses in it, so he doesn’t have a specific blog’s Susie, or Noelle, that is from his own timeline. Only Sponte/Kris from the blog mentioned above.

• I’m pretty lenient with short replies. Don’t feel pressured to match the length if my reply gets long! Multi-para (usually 2-5 paragraphs) is my go-to for roleplays, so I usually do long replies by default.

• Adding onto that, I honestly don’t mind one-liners. Of course, in crack/online roleplays it's fine but I'm okay with it in serious roleplays too. I prefer it if you don’t give me one-liners, but hey, as long as I’m still having fun with the roleplay anyway, it’s cool with me! I understand not being able to think of anything to write, so just as long as you don’t give me one or two words as your reply like ‘He smiled.’ or ’*laughs*’, I’ll be cool with it. Put at least some effort even if you’re only gonna give me one sentence, otherwise I’ll drop the rp once it becomes a repeat offense.

• I will not change the formatting of my roleplays to fit yours. I’m comfortable with sticking to only paragraph style roleplays, thank you very much. Feel free to keep formatting your own posts though, because I think formatting looks really cool! I just don’t want to format my posts, however. I will not go all out with formatting my own posts with all that cool ‘small text’, and indents, and bolding and all that. The most I ever do with my formatting is italics for emphasis on certain words, and using icons.

• I tend to move roleplays from asks onto its own post. If I send you an ask meme and you answer it, I'll respond by making a new post, tagging you, and linking to your reply. Until formatting on asks are fixed, I will answer any asks sent to me in a new text post rather than asks.

• I accept any sort of asks! If they aren’t answered after a while, either I don’t know how to answer it or I might be drawing it out and I am a very slow artist- Sorry-

• Feel free to tag me in any of those tagging memes! I don’t mind and I think they’re pretty fun to do! ^^

• Adding onto the above rule, you’re more than welcome to send me those chain asks like “send this to 10 roleplayers you think are really great!” because it’s super duper nice that you would think to send one to me! But don’t expect me to send them to other people, because I won’t :’) my anxiety won’t let me, so I’m sorry-

• If I follow you, that means I’ve already read all of your rules. I might not send the codephrase, though, because most of the time I get very anxious over having to send things like that. I’m very sorry–! But if I follow you then chances are that I have definitely read them before following- If you choose not to trust me on this, I understand.

• I generally follow every rp blog that follows me, but I might not follow some people back for a few reasons. Some might be for the type of content you post on your blog, but I am still non-selective! I will roleplay with anyone who asks (unless you wanna rp gross things or you’re a mean person,,,, like your muse can be as much of a dick as you want, that’s no problem but don’t be gross to other people as yourself) and if I do roleplay with you, I will be more likely to follow you as well.

• Adding onto the above rule, however, please respect that it’s nothing personal if I ever unfollow you either! It’s not that I hate you or anything, but if you haven’t followed me back and you’re a private rp blog, or if we’re mutuals but never really roleplay, our muses just don’t click, you spam stuff that I don’t want to see on my dash, or you’ve become inactive for years and/or don’t interact with me anymore, there’s nothing wrong with that! We can still be friends but I prefer to have all the people I follow be potential rp partners. Feel free to follow me on my personal, Briightskies, if you still wanna keep in touch but not rp :’)

—

–ABOUT THIS BLOG–

• This blog is OC, multiverse, and crossover friendly! I love OCs and have many of my own tbh, you’re all more than welcome to come rp with me!!

• I’ll also rp with fandoms I’m not into either, as long as you have a good about section for your character, which also indicates how you portray them (any headcanons or AUs you have that aren’t canon, or whether you portray them as canonly as possible, unless they’re OCs of course since a regular about page is a given) and I’ll probably look up other things about that fandom in its wiki if I don’t know what something is anyway.

• This blog is multiship! So any relationships my muse is involved in, are in different timelines unless specified. Poly relationships aren’t bad though, just saying. I ship pretty much anything unless it’s incest or if they’re children paired with someone a lot older. Selfcest is fine too (though I really don’t know how to feel about Berdly x Berdly,,,,,, I mean, if you want to try it with me, go for it lol!). Because Berdly is a minor, he won’t really get intimate with his partners, but romantic stuff is a-okay.

• I also only ship with chemistry. My muses need to get to know yours first, so don’t get disappointed if he only sees you as a friend/acquaintance at first and has no intention of pursuing a romantic relationship with your muse. Give my muse reasons to care about your muse and let the feelings develop naturally, and don’t ever force your muse on mine. Unless it’s to mess with him, or whatever other reason. Unrequited stuff is absolutely okay with me too!

• I will tag common triggers and such, but don’t be afraid to tell me if you have something you want me to tag! I promise I’ll remember to tag it from then on. I do not have any known triggers myself. Any trigger warning tags will be written as “tw; ____” with a semi-colon, not a colon.

|     Requested tagged triggers:

tw; gore

tw; spiders

tw; insects

tw; blood

tw; homestuck

tw; smoking

tw; drugs

tw; alcohol

tw; needles

tw; oceans

tw; cutting

duplicates // (if anyone else has a specific way they want something tagged that's different from my tagging style, please let me know)

tw; zombies

tw; bats

tw; maggots

tw; sibling death

tw; sibling peril

• I will only talk through the IM system ooc. If you send me a message through there, I will not respond with ooc brackets ((these things)) because I will automatically assume you know that you’re talking to the mun. I do not do roleplays on there.

-

Thank you for reading this really long list of rules! It means a lot if you did!

There’s no password, because I’m also anxious with those for other people’s blogs as I said above. But if you would like to interact with me, you can shoot me an ask directed to my muse, or like one of my starter call posts at any time (also feel free to re-like those posts so I can make another starter for you at any time!) for me to write you a starter!

#rules #links for mobile users #|| Onto A New Page || Blog updates.