#not sure if that's how they did it or if its just an effect they added but either way A+ to add to the creepy factor | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pikahlua · 3 days

Text

Look, it's probably still not time to go really deep into it, but I did mention there are ways this ending where Tomura dies could work for me. Honestly I didn't have much of an issue with chapter 423 itself before the internet's emotional onslaught over it, but now that I'm hearing rumors the chapter was received well in Japan and a number of western fans have decided to couch all their disappointment in racism and rage at the target readership, maybe I should give some cursory thoughts just to counteract the stupid.

The Bittersweet Ending

Here's the thing. For all the game the bird app likes to talk about how MHA is happy and kid-friendly and not dark and that's bad somehow, it's kind of funny to me how little MHA actually meets expectations in that regard. If I were to divide MHA arcs into categories based on their endings, I would probably have to put the majority of them into the "makes me cry" category. Even arcs where the hero wins with ostensibly happy endings often have absolutely gut-wrenching moments, like All Might's retirement in the Kamino arc, Tsuyu's apology in the UA Dorm Contest arc, and Nighteye's death in the Overhaul arc. I don't think it's possible for me to watch the Sports Festival arc and come out of it with anything but mixed feelings of hope and haunting. Stain may have lost his battle, but his effect on society sure seems to give him the win when it comes to the war. The Paranormal Liberation War arc has a pretty rough ending where there may still be a sliver of hope, but goodness is it a small one.

Sure, some of the teariest moments are a result of happy scenes like Eri smiling for the first time at the cultural festival, but what I'm getting at is that MHA tends to go for more hopeful endings rather than happy ones. And those hopeful endings are often stained by some other tragedy, a price to pay for the hope. Just because MHA isn't full of random death doesn't mean it doesn't contain poignant loss. This was one of its early selling points in fact. MHA's most hopeful moments have always felt so real because the story acknowledges that these things should often play out messily. We've seen the mess, and now chapter 424 has given us a glimmer of hope. The question is now where the story will take us from here.

The Anticlimax

This post has come back for me in the most unexpected way, not gonna lie.

I often hear “anticlimax/anticlimactic” used as a negative criticism, especially colloquially. This criticism assumes an anticlimax is always written unintentionally. But that’s often not the case; anticlimax is actually fucking fantastic when placed in the right hands. And Kohei Horikoshi is a goddamn anticlimax connoisseur. I say he’s a connoisseur because Horikoshi has the gall, nay, the gumption–dare I say the balls to showcase the versatility of anticlimax as a storytelling technique for more than just comedy (although he does also use it for comedy a lot). He dares to use it in action scenes, horror/thriller scenes, and even fuzzy heartfelt scenes, all to the great effect of toying with our emotions. And he successfully has us feel exactly what he wants us to every time–because that’s the point. These aren’t cheap jokes; they serve a purpose! They illustrate an actual, meaningful point about whatever scenario they are used in to make the story more realistic, to combat the fridge logic “well actually” complaints endemic to fandom. Because Horikoshi is a fan himself.

When I write "realistic," I don't mean to apply this quote here to indicate that death (especially for edgy aesthetics) is realistic. I mean to indicate that imperfection is realistic. Izuku isn't a perfect hero. Tomura isn't a perfect victim, and by victim I mean "character for the hero to save." Izuku says it himself:

A perfect victim for the hero to save would yield to the hero's attempts to turn and save them. They would see the wisdom in the hero's position and 100% change sides to agree with them. Trite.

Doing this runs the risk of erasing the victim's identity that comes before. Izuku never has a perfect answer to all of Tomura's problems with the world.

Izuku is the same as All Might. He's only human.

[...]Horikoshi has no compunctions using anticlimax in big, important, non-humorous scenes (even if the anticlimax ultimately adds humor to the scene that was otherwise unexpected). This man has no fear. He ends his famously popular take on the tried and true trope of tournament arcs with one big let-down that affects not just the audience but the in-universe characters. [...] You wanna tell me Horikoshi didn’t know exactly what he was doing here? You wanna tell me Horikoshi didn’t know about the fandom war over Katsuki’s hero name? That he didn’t purposefully fucking troll the fandom with this? That this isn’t the single greatest brick joke in the history of published media for its effect both in the canon and in the meta? Fuck you, we’re building up the tension around the most wildly popular character’s hero name reveal for 248 goddamn chapters (that’s five-and-a-half years) just to make it the cringiest fucking thing you’ve ever heard in your goddamn life. His hero name must be the closest audio rendition anyone can imagine shaped like a middle finger and fucking nothing less will suffice. Congratulations, fandom: you played yourselves! You made a war no one could win! Horikoshi could have chosen Ground Zero or Kacchan as Katsuki’s hero name and risked alienating half his fandom either way, but you didn’t realize there was a third option, which of course he took: to risk alienating the entire fucking fandom.

I'm just saying, an ending like this isn't out of character for Horikoshi. In light of this trip down memory lane and Izuku's parallel with All Might in that they acknowledge they cannot save everyone, I'm interested to see what Horikoshi does with this ending whether or not Tomura survives. What sort of hope will he offer?

The extended ending arc

The only real extended ending arc we've had in MHA that might give us a glimpse at the inner workings of Horikoshi's mind is the School Cultural Festival arc. Because of that (and the many other things I've mentioned before this post), I will say there is cause to believe we will have a hopeful ending. Again, I don't know what that looks like. A lot of people seem to have a specific thing they need to have happen to save the story for them, and I cannot speak to those.

Except for Deku vs Kacchan 3, which is what I need to have happen lol. And god does it seem really fucking possible now.

#my hero academia manga spoilers #epilogue arc spoilers #meta #just some incomplete thoughts really

94 notes · View notes

outofgloom · 3 days

Text

THE TOOLS WE HAVE

He was back. The room spun, and he heard, rather than saw, the worm-like creature slough away and plop into the water of the nearby pool. Then he was very, very sick...

When it was over, he raised himself shakily and checked the interface suspended above him. The six brains glowed faintly, and the six Matoran bodies attached to them remained motionless, as still and unmoving as they had been since the Signal crossed the universe and worked its terrible transformations, however long ago that’d been. There were no more days or years since the sky had been taken apart, so it was hard to keep track.

The various linkages of the interface seemed unphased, which was more than he had expected. He steadied himself against another wave of dizziness. His mind felt…bloated…expanded, worse than normal telepathy. Helryx had mentioned side-effects…the toll of “transtemporal projection”. She was one to know, of course.

Aside from that, everything had gone according to plan. He’d conveyed the information that Helryx had provided, as best he could. The Matoran that he had addressed…the Matoran had been strange—confused at first, but seeming to understand by the end. Afterward, he’d successfully pulled himself back, though the effort had been greater than expected.

Was it enough? How would he know? Even Helryx hadn’t been sure. The fact that he was still here, in this chamber, still in continuity with past thoughts…Did that mean he had failed? Would he even recognize success? The changes might be subtle...

He looked around. The chamber looked no different than before. He placed a hand against the cool stone of the floor and sent out a sonar pulse into the substructure. Mostly intact, no new incursions, although the ominous microtremors were still there, as always.

Unsatisfied, he stood and crossed to the long row of masks embedded in the wall nearby. He removed an Akaku and an Iden and placed them on the faces of two of the inactive Matoran. He tried not to look at them for too long. It still disturbed him to see them this way, even after all this time. His sensitive hearing registered the ever-so-slight shift and rasp of their autonomic breathing.

“Get used to it,” Helryx had told him time and again. “We work with the tools we have. If you succeed, you can have all the stimulating conversations with them that I’m sure you would’ve had otherwise. I never found Ce-Matoran to be particularly good talkers myself…”

Krakua wasn’t sure that he would ever get used to it.

The interface hummed ready. He stooped and positioned himself in the center again, and the six brains glowed in a circle above him like a living Suva. Eyes closed, he exhaled and activated his own Suletu.

Suletu into Iden. Up through the stones of the fortress his consciousness projected, broadened, then coalesced. He was in open air, hovering just above the central column. Into Akaku, he swept the interior rooms briefly from above. All as expected. The many defenses continued to be manned by his forces. No change.

Now he moved his mind-spirit out to the ramparts and brought the telescopic components of the Akaku online. The dense protosteel walls went transparent, and he looked beyond:

Dry oceanbed greeted him, but that was nothing new. He had hoped...but no. In all directions the waste spread from what had once been the shores of the fortress island. His fortress, now. The ocean floor was eaten into numerous holes and channels, all the way to the smoke-filled horizon. The Swarm appeared to be focusing its efforts elsewhere for the time being. He glanced up at the sky, or what once had been sky—now a mixture of jagged gaps and fitful flickering lights. It was a strange, broken thing, and beyond his sky there was another sky. More alien, with a single great light burning down.

He remembered when the Swarm had started to eat the sky, and the stars had gone out one by one. That was when he’d known for sure that the world was over.

He had not felt that way when the first Cataclysm had struck the universe, and they all learned that the Great Spirit had been deposed by a treacherous Makuta named Teridax, nor even when the second Cataclysm followed, and the seers said that the Makuta was contending with the Great Beings themselves.

Even when the Swarms had appeared from every hollow and deep crevasse, and the strange Signal washed across the universe, converting every Matoran it reached into a servant of the Swarm, into a destroyer...he had not yet given up hope. Everyone he had sworn to protect, gone. All but the Ce-Matoran, whose minds were different, and who instead were simply hollowed out by the Signal and left empty. The seers cried that the Great Beings had cursed the universe for the crimes of the Makuta, and had sent their robotic servants to accomplish one last terrible Duty: to eat the world into Nothing.

Even then he had not fully despaired. But the sound of the world being unlidded: a deep, unnatural groaning noise that shook the atmosphere and went down into his innermost ears, into his bones…That had been the moment. There was no going back.

But Helryx had another plan. A backup plan. She always did.

The interface powered down as he reinstalled himself into his own body. He sat motionless, letting the seconds beat by. Nothing outside had changed, as far as he could tell. After all the battle and desperate strategy, all the effort, the sacrifices and pain, all the millennia of preparation…he had hoped that it would be enough, that he would not have to—

The ground shook slightly, enough to ripple the water of the dark pool. Suddenly there was a squat figure in the doorway at the other end of the chamber. Two icy-blue eyes stared at him from beneath a domed faceplate. It was one of his. It chkt'd at him in its ugly way, and he understood it—he had by now become adept at communicating with the creatures via their sound-frequencies.

“INCOMING INCURSION. NORTHERNMOST HEXTANT, BELOW,” it chkt’d.

He’d been the only Toa of Sonics in existence when the second Cataclysm arrived, and that made him uniquely suited to combat the Swarm. He was able to confuse their command-structure, deactivating individual units entirely or even turning them to his own will.

“RETURN TO COMPLEMENT,” he chkt’d in reply. “INTERCEPT AND DIVERT.”

The swarm-unit acknowledged his command and swiveled to go. Another tremor went through the floor as it did so, and for a moment it teetered, off-balance.

“Careful, Mazek—” he began to say involuntarily, but stopped. Helryx’s words drilled into him. They are gone. Their names are gone. He fought back a tide of memories, memories of a Ko-Matoran, a friend…the accursed Signal ringing in their ears—unexpected, too fast for him to neutralize it with his own counter-vibration—of the painful sound of limbs buckling and stretching, of armor fusing here and splitting there, of a voice pleading for help, pleading as the vocal tract deformed and the words distorted, and the eyes elongated into slits, still icy-blue.

Disconnecting it from the rest of the Swarm had been the only mercy he could give. They are gone. Shut it out.

No, he would never get used to it, not even after ten thousand years.

The swarm-unit had left. He sighed, resigned at last to what he must do. He removed the Iden and Akaku from the interface and re-cycled the system, checking the attachments on the Masks of Truth, Translation, and Helryx’s own Mask of Psychometry once again.

Next, he retrieved a stack of tablets from a nearby table. They were covered with writing and calculations: Helryx's logs. He waved to the far wall, and the door of the vault opened with a hiss. The chamber beyond was cold and damp, green-tinged, and filled from top to bottom with hundreds of small tubes.

And in each one there was a worm.

He surveyed the result of their centuries-long hunt through the wreckage of the world. The Order had known for some time that the transtemporal memory encoded in the nascent minds of the creatures could be used to reconnect to moments in the past, but never to change those moments. Not until Helryx’s research, and the creation of the interface.

He consulted the tablets again, tracing along the carefully organized shelves. He would have to select another specimen, target the right moment, and communicate the right message, but which to choose? Helryx had been unsure if a sequence was required, even with all her years of traversing alternate dimensions and spying on different timelines using the last remaining Olmak.

For his first attempt, just minutes ago, he had used the one that Helryx deemed to have the broadest potential: a specimen that had attached itself to a single Matoran prior to either of the cataclysms. The messages he had transmitted were obscure, something about the importance of “lightning” and “six heroes”. That was as much as he could transmit through the link.

It was odd, though. The Matoran had not responded to the name Helryx had listed. It insisted its name was something else, something starting with a “V”. He couldn't recall. Hopefully it wasn't vital. The target had been located in an important place, after all—very close to the Core. Surely it had been the right Po-Matoran...

What next? The logs offered many options. A number of specimens had apparently interacted with the Makuta Teridax himself at one point, but such direct interference seemed unlikely to succeed. Another of the worms had apparently linked itself to an ancient entity called Tren Krom at least forty millennia before the cataclysms. There might be an opportunity there, yes…

He pulled down the canister containing that specific worm and tucked it under his arm, returning to the main chamber. There was another shudder in the ground, and the stasis tubes clinked and jostled as he moved to the interface, preparing to unseal the tube.

Something stirred in the doorway on the far side of the chamber—another of his swarm-units, or one of the lesser couriers he’d peeled off. He chkt'd to dismiss it without looking, too absorbed in his task.

“The Manutri chirps its greeting,” a voice said, “but the icehawk is earless and cannot hear. It dives for the kill. Who is the greater fool?”

Krakua’s eyes snapped upward. It was a Matoran—bent and ill-shaped—standing across the room from him, examining the interface with sharp eyes.

“Who—?”

Another tremor shook the fortress. Harder this time. His forces must have engaged with the latest incursion below ground. The Matoran moved into the room. A Po-Matoran. A familiar mask. Krakua stared. For a split second, he thought he might be hallucinating. His mind still had that bloated feeling. It was possible...

“I take it that, from your perspective, we have only just spoken,” the Matoran said, stepping into the room. “For me, it’s been a little longer, but here I am.”

Krakua finally found his words: “How are you not…not…”

“Not part of the Swarm, like the rest? When the fields of Flameleaf dissolve each season and must be replanted, the hardier Firevine is exposed, for it does not melt. But that’s not really important, is it?”

It was relief that he was feeling. Relief like pain, washing over him. He felt his legs go weak. He hadn’t had a real conversation for such a long time. It was difficult to formulate his thoughts aloud.

“I thought…I thought nothing had changed,” he stammered. “Thought the message didn’t work. I can’t believe it.”

“Well...” The face of the Matoran now grew flat and serious. “You’d better get over that quick. I’ve had time to consider this plan of yours, messy though it is. You’ve at least done most of the legwork, I see.” The Matoran motioned to the open vault.

Krakua nodded slowly, still feeling a little dazed.

“First,” the Matoran continued, “you can put back that worm you’re holding. It’s the wrong one—the markings are off. We’re looking for a specimen from Metru Nui, around the time of the first Cataclysm. You have this, yes?”

“Metru Nui…” Krakua set the tube down and focused his attention, sorting through the tablets he still held. “Yes, here. I dredged the specimen from the ruins of the city outskirts, but Helryx classified it as ‘minimal impact’.”

“Did she? How disappointing. No matter. There is a Toa in the city who will need some special...encouragement, I think. And then…then we’ll see what happens.”

“Encouragement? There’s nothing about that in the notes…I wouldn’t even know where to start...”

“Encouragement was never her strong suit, I suppose. Well, I'm sure your mentor did her best, but this may have been a little beyond her expertise. Where is she, by the way? I thought she would be here.”

Krakua blinked. “She…The last time…she never came back.”

“Encouraging.”

“She was probably just delayed. Time runs differently on other planes. Or maybe—”

“Or maybe not.” The Matoran shrugged dismissively. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll work with the tools we have...”

The tools we have. Krakua’s gaze wandered to the interface as the Matoran spoke. The masks stared back at him. The eyes were open, glowing but empty.

“...And we’ll have to get a bit more creative with our messages,” the Matoran was saying. “We can do better than...whatever it was you relayed to me back then.”

The floor trembled again, just a little. By the feel of it, he could tell that his forces had been successful in deflecting the incursion. His tools...They'd report in soon.

They are gone. Their names are gone. But if you succeed...

Krakua shook himself. The Matoran was looking at him expectantly. “Well, uh...the messages have to be simple,” he said. “Otherwise the disturbance is too great, and the timeline splits.”

“Of course. Basic causality.”

“And they have to be cryptic as well—not too easy for the target to comprehend immediately, but still decipherable at the right moment.”

“You don’t say.”

“That’s the hardest part, really. Helryx hated it, and I was never any good at riddles...”

Velika smiled.

#bionicle #art #writing #fanfiction #works #outofgloom #krakua #time trap

73 notes · View notes

your-local-asylum-escapee · 6 hours

Text

I'm pretty sure i was having a stroke whan i wrote this but eh idc

anyways-, i know for a fact that since merlin is an immortal among the mortal plane he tries not to get too attached to things but him being 𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦 and since 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 has a small amount of magic in them he really can't help himself and adopts a dog every now and then

at first he doesn't give them names cuz yk attachment issues AND he really doesn't know how to name it? UNTIL

one day he sees a dog wandering near a pub. At first he just kinda feeds him as he does most of the time he meets stray dogs but this one never left him alone and i mean NEVER

it follows him around literally 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 and at first it was a little annoying but after some time he kinda appreciated the company

Merlin and Leon meet at a pub to catch up with each other and talk about what tthey've been up to (im a very firm believer of the 𝘓𝘦𝘰𝘯'𝘴 𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘭 theory, you can never change my mind about it)

obviously, the dog is still there and Leon is quite amused with the dog and asks what his name was but before Merlin could come up with an excuse on why he didn't name him, a bar fight starts and they accidentally get roped into it

the dog is actually pretty helpful in fighting the random men by biting their kneecaps and what not, but then one of the men kicks the dog effectively injuring it and the dog passes out

when the three of them get out of the fight they head to Merlin's home where they heal the dog until it wakes up with its tail wagging happily at Merlin

He suddenly feels a sense of deja vu and when he realizes why he laughs, Leon's a little concerned and asks why he's laughing, merlin tells the story of how he met Gwaine

Leon chuckles while he pets the dog and jokingly says something along the lines of "well, welcome back Gwaine" and right after that they decide to name him Gwaine

After that whenever Merlin gets a new dog they joke about whose personality it fits closest to their old friends,

time goes by and they run out of names to name the dogs so they just think of the things they miss back then as names, for example: blueberry tarts, silverpine, tourneys, etc. (merlin kept suggesting food and nature as names while leon suggested festivals and places as names)

eventually, Leon suggests the name Albion for a dog 𝘩𝘦 found this time, after running out of kingdoms and estates to use as a name

at some point Albion gets badly injured and i mean 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘫𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥, for some reason Merlin doesn't use magic because its been a long time since he did and he kinda didn't trust himself

Leon and Merlin take him to a vet where they meet a dude that looks like Arthur. Well it turns out it is him considering that when he actually makes eye contact with one of them he freezes and and nearly shouts "𝘔𝘌𝘙LIN?! 𝘓𝘌𝘖𝘕??"

they reunite and everything and bla bla bla and then they get emotional and stuff

and then Kilgharrah's voice pops outa nowhere in Merlin's mind ".. 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝘼𝙡𝙗𝙞𝙤𝙣'𝙨 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙨 𝙜𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙨𝙩, 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝘼𝙧𝙩𝙝𝙪𝙧 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣.."

albion, the dog, is just happy to be healed again and just be there, witnessing the wonderful reunion

#bbc merlin #arthur pendragon #merlin #merthur #arthur x merlin #merlin emrys #merlin x arthur #merlin bbc #bbc merthur #arthur and merlin #merlin and arthur #merlin fandom #merlin fanfic #merlin fic #merthur fanfic #bbc arthur #arthur #magical twink and himbo king

59 notes · View notes

buckyownsmylife · 2 days

Text

Crash & Burn - Chapter 4

The one where Bucky is your father best friend, and the man you want to take your virginity.

Bucky is losing everything: his wife, his business, his house. And when his best friend is too busy to offer him the support he needs, you offer him your ear and shoulder. He wouldn't find it too bad that getting closer to you made him see you with new eyes, if it wasn't for the one thing you asked in return: you want him to be the first man to ever fuck you.

For general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“How are you feeling?” The first thing I noticed when I woke up wasn’t the throbbing in my head or how bright the light was despite the curtains blocking most of it from pouring in from my bedroom’s window. It was the way fingers softly rubbed my scalp, trying to stir me awake as gently as possible.

Sighing, I rolled to the side, not realizing that the gentle caress would disappear. Its absence was so deeply felt by my still sleeping body, it prompted me to roll back and hit something hard and soft at the same time.

And that’s when I woke up.

What. the fuck?

“Are you awake, sweetheart?” The something hard-and-soft questioned, and all I could think to say were two simple words:

Fuck, no.

“Go away.” I wasn’t too sure he understood my words, as they were muttered against my pillow as I pressed my face against it, hoping to block out the entire world at least until the sun decided to hide.

It was too bright, anyway.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” His chuckle was literally the only sound my ears could bear at that time. It’s what I used to anchor me back to reality when he pried the pillow away from me, forcing me to deal with the light in the room as he got up to open the windows without any care for the probability of me turning blind at the sight.

“Listen,” I tried to reason with his madness, “I know I fucked up. Believe me, I do. But aren’t I a little too old for punishment? And isn’t torture a bit… extreme?” Apparently, hungover-me was the dramatic type. I’d be more willing to feel embarrassed about the tantrum I was throwing on Bucky if it weren’t for the damn pounding on my head, but another chuckle from him just led me to relax my muscles against the warm bed and finally open my eyes fully to see him.

Damn.

He was wearing a simple white shirt, but it looked so delicious on his body. I wasn’t too sure where this desire had come from - I’d always felt some sort of crush or attraction to the man, he was undeniably hot - but considering how we met, I’d never allowed it to develop past an almost childlike curiosity.

Until we started living together.

James had been in and out of our house for most of his friendship with my father. “Sleepovers” (if one could even use that word for people over thirty) were more than common especially after game nights, when everyone would come over and James would be the last one to leave, opting to crash in our guest bedroom instead of calling an uber only to be back the next morning to get his car.

Why did it all feel so different now? Was it just the absence of the ring on his finger that had my blood running so hot for him, all of a sudden?

I’d thought it was “a dry spell”. Being a virgin in grad school isn’t much fun, and so that was my reasoning to accept that party invitation, and the many beers I’d been offered from the second I walked through the door.

I needed something to calm my nerves down. So I accepted the alcohol, even though I knew it wasn’t a good idea. Bottle after bottle, I used the “social lubricant” in an effort to become more social, but… was it really any surprise that it didn’t have the desired effect?

I found myself feeling skittish. Scared. Every sound seemed louder, and soon enough I was looking for corners to hide and when that didn’t work, I ducked into the first unlocked room I found.

Too bad it wasn't empty.

“This isn’t torture or punishment,” James brought me back to the present by adding his weight onto my bed again, sitting up against the headboard as he watched over my still unresponsive body. “It’s simply me, expressing concern over the fact it’s past twelve and you’re still in bed.”

Shit, was it that late already?

Reaching for my phone, I found out it was: 12:43 PM, to be more precise. He was right to be concerned. I never slept past 9 AM, not even on weekends.

“Alright,” I conceded, sitting up on my bed and noticing for the first time my attire. It was a loose shirt, not one I recognized, but it was comfortable and it smelled nice. Familiar. It smelled like…

“I had to put you in something else.” My head snapped up to meet his gaze, but he was avoiding my eyes. Scratching the back of his neck, he rushed to get the rest of the explanation out. “I don’t know how much of it you remember, but…”

“Oh my God, I puked all over you, didn’t I?” Mortification wasn’t the right word for what I was feeling. It went beyond that, it was embarrassment to a point I didn’t believe existed if I hadn’t been feeling it at that moment.

“Most of it was over yourself, sweetheart.” His chuckle did little to lessen my humiliation, but before I could figure out a way to escape this torment, his fingers curled over my wrist, tugging my arms down so I wouldn’t hide my face from him anymore.

“I had to give you a shower.” My breath hitched. The idea of him seeing me naked was just… so foreign, so forbidden…

It elicited images that I’d never configured before. And with the confusion and perhaps even the alcohol still in my veins, it didn’t take long for those images to become something else entirely…

Fantasies…

“Let’s get you off of these clothes, hm?” His hands would be anything but gentle as they undressed my tired body. I imagined them running all over my skin, taking notice of how warm I felt, but never stopping in one place for too long.

He wasn’t supposed to be doing this, after all.

“But you like it, don’t you?”

“Honey?” His voice snapped me back to reality yet again, and I had no way to hide it anymore. At least, not from myself.

I wanted James Barnes in a way no one should ever desire their father’s best friend.

“I’m such an idiot…” I opted to say instead of immediately revealing the thoughts running through my head, although they never went too far. He was still too close - in my house, in my room, and I was wearing his clothes.

“Because you puked?” He countered, probably trying to make me feel better, but only succeeding in making me more embarrassed, instead.

“No.” Throwing the covers away from me, I pushed myself out of bed, not wanting to be sitting by his side when I admitted this - and not even sure what I wanted to admit, anyway. I’d done a lot of stuff I wasn’t proud of in the last week, therefore I knew I had a thousand different things to confess before I’d need to jump onto the most obvious one.

“I don’t usually drink…” I started, and when he immediately nodded as if he knew exactly what I was talking about, I shook my head to force him to really listen. “No, seriously - It’s not that I haven’t had a few beers before. I’ve gotten drunk, I’ve thrown up…”

“Just not in front of your father.”

“Well, that goes without saying.” This time, I was awake enough to appreciate his little chuckle. It made me feel warm inside, how despite being at a 30% of my mental capacity, I was still able to amuse him. “No, I just… I don’t usually drink when I’m with people I don’t trust. It was a stupid mistake. It’s not going to happen again, I promise.��

I thought my little speech would stop whatever lesson he intended to teach me. I’d been through enough, considering everything that happened between us since the night before - but apparently, we weren’t on the same page.

Bucky’s P.O.V.

“No, it was a mistake. The only stupid thing back there was that idiot. Don’t make it easier on him, he doesn’t deserve it, goggles.” The furrow of her eyebrows only made her look cuter.

It really wasn’t fair.

“Goggles?”

“Yeah,” I sheepishly admitted, scratching the back of my neck. “‘Cause your beer goggles are seriously leaving your vision skewed.” The snort that preceded her fit of giggles had my stomach dropping in the same way a rollercoaster used to make me feel.

This felt dangerous - like I was treading uncharted waters, uncovering a completely new territory. But was there anything wrong in becoming best friends with your best friend’s daughter?

Nevermind the fact that my overprotectiveness over her felt anything but innocent. I’d never behaved the way I did last night - not even with my soon-to-be ex. But I kept insisting to myself that it was okay - Natasha had never behaved in such a way as to make me feel as if she needed me.

Perhaps that was our problem all along. Why be married if you’re better off alone?

“Listen to me.” I got out of her bed - trying to ignore how warm it felt. I almost wanted to lie down and take a nap, take advantage of her sweet perfume that seemed to cling onto her sheers. “Nothing that happened last night was your fault. You’re entitled to go to a party, drink some and get back home without fearing for your safety.”

All I got in response was silence. It made me sweat.

I wish I could know what she was thinking.

“Why did you, then?” The question fell from my lips before I could even realize what I was saying. It felt so out of place, she even had to question, “What?”

Taking a step away from her, I looked out of the window as I elaborated, “Why did you drink? Last night?” She didn’t seem to follow my train of thought, so I pressed, “If you don’t usually do this, what made yesterday so different?”

Of course, I knew it by now. But if she didn’t seem to remember, there was no point in pressuring her to admit it. It might as well have been my imagination… She would have never done that with a sober mind, so why take it into consideration?

“I don’t know,” came her answer, honest and clear. “Everyone was drinking. You know my dad is always on my back about not being a part of things and then you said the same the other day and it made me feel… Like I had to try harder.”

The air left my lungs at her confession, and the guilt had my heart pumping regret along my veins. It’s incredible how a simple comment can lead to irreconcilable decisions in the long run…

But I wasn’t about to let it all go to waste over nothing. “I never liked parties either,” I offered, looking down on my hands so it wouldn’t feel as personal as this confession also was, to me. “The alcohol always makes them seem more interesting than what they truly are.”

I saw her tilt her head in that cute manner of hers from the corner of my eyes, still not brave enough to raise my gaze to meet hers. “But you like to drink,” she pressed, slowly moving closer to where I was, by the window overlooking her backyard.

“Yes, at bars. Or with friends, in places where I feel comfortable. Why do you think your dad decorated the guest room?” She didn’t seem to know the answer, so I laughed. “For someone as smart as you, you sure don’t pay enough attention to what’s going on around you, huh?”

“Come on, let’s go.” She took my hand without hesitation, but still asked, “Where?”

I just shrugged, squeezing her fingers while I nodded towards her closet. “You’ll see.”

#my series #my fics #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes angst

52 notes · View notes

lizaluvsthis · 2 days

Text

To love and what-not?

-New fixation because I said so-

I am now having thoughts if Smg4 either is having a hard time for himself and with the fact that also involves smg3 by his side. And maybe trying to keep their friendship stable and not going beyond that line?

Smg4 is really REALLY trying hard to keep his attachment with other people work out fine. Ever since after the arc he still can recall "who knew you could play an antagonist so well!"

He had scars healed right after his arc from IGBP which was the one we had seen it worst, but coming to him realizing about PV who has been the one behind all of that?

Man it sucks. He had every right to be angry and bash that TV's head up to the sky.

Because he thought to himself that he's already the worst from all of his friends, so what else there is to try and fix even tho it's all been damaged?

But ofcourse smg4 didn't know that it wasn't his fault- it was PV's fault. But since it's hard to believe it- he let pride and enviness consume him to get what he ever wanted.

This causes four to back up for a bit because he doesn't trust himself for being open due to those things he and his friends went through because of one simple mistake. (Nice- butterfly effect)

He may hide that from us but we've seen him hurt plenty of times, like how he hides it.

Wondering if he's that oblivious enough or he already knows due to three being a tsundere when he's around. What if right after that search history he had from "what does a tsundere mean?" Maybe him finding out three has a crush on him?

Maybe it worries him that he might hurt three even more because of his struggles so that he casually plays it off as friends.

Maybe this is more than just saying no? Even tho they're cosmical partners they're in a mutual bond. Because last time we've seen for Smg3 he never took a shower.

(Meaning he might had that possibility due to his fall of depression getting a bit worse that he didnt even bothered to take care of his own body)

Since our boys are not healthy at their physical and mental state- I am a hundred percent sure that they're still dealing with their own problems still so it takes them for a while.

Maybe in a coupls of seasons? When will this be canon? No one knows, maybe because it's "not their time" yet.

Not just yet they're not. But maybe just maybe.

Since three is his friend he meant so much already and he doesnt want to lose him too. And three doesn't want as well as for just "crushing on him" because of his decisions.

Three doesn't want to make it obvious which he wasnt sure but to four I think he's to oblivious to know but there mightve been a possible chance he DOES know but doesnt say anything about it.

And maybe if so he doesnt want to tell four just yet to find the right time that he does and probably wont even at all anytime soon thinking it'll pass.

Just saying SMG3 fell first, but SMG4 fell harder.

And three just wanting to just pull out that "if we're in good conditions I'll just wait for the time until he does it first. For now I'm not gonna mention anything" BECAUSE THREE DOESNT LIKE TO RUIN THIS BOND BETWEEN HIM AND HIS CLOSE FRIEND-

two of them have been through SO MUCH- you can even tell out much of a person SMG4 is like to lose a friend that meant everything to him. (Adds to the point he saved THREE back when a baby just TOOK him away)

Like how the comparisson faced over to three seeing four get taken away, he didn't even hesitate to get him back he LITERALLY CAME BACK FOR HIM

and to four seeing three GETTING TAKEN AWAY- you know what he did? The same exact thing. HE CAME BACK FOR HIS FRIEND. AND NEVER SAID ANYTHING BECAUSE HE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT TO EVEN SAY- (left from more dialogues three just says to four then a "baka" at the end-)

Maybe four is new to this feeling? Of what it feels like to save a friend? Maybe its more than that? Maybe its how he remembered that time when three was the one who saved HIM without hesitation during igbp.

Maybe his head wasnt responding correctly because he had been constantly staring at SMG3 while he speaks- maybe he's been sent with mixed feelings? Mixed signals? Between the two?

I just- I just UGRGHHHHHH THE URGE...

#lizaluv #smg4 #smg34 #smg3 #smg4 smg3 #lizafixates

31 notes · View notes

ahqkas · 2 hours

Text

♯ PRACTICE MAKES IT BETTER ; theodore nott

PAIRING! theodore nott x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! struggling with the local slang, you feel out of place until you meet theodore nott, the silent slytherin (based off this req.!!)

WORD COUNT! 2.3k

WARNINGS AND TAGS! fluff, kissing + lmk !

NOTES! reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated :)

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

AMERICA WAS VIBRANT AND DIVERSE. The music scene was thriving with genres like grunge, hip-hop, and pop dominating the airwaves. To you, it was a place of contrasts and boundless possibilities. It was a land where towering skyscrapers stood next to historic buildings, and where you could find everything from bustling cities to quiet, open countryside. The diversity was striking; every state feels like its own little world, with different cultures, foods, and ways of life. It was a country where you could experience all four seasons, with hot summers, cold winters, and vibrant springs and autumns. The sheer size and variety made it feel like there was always something new to explore, whether it was a national park, a music festival, or just a quirky little town.

Then you moved to England.

Leaving behind the familiar sights and sounds of America, you stepped into a new world of magic and centuries-old traditions.

The first thing you noticed was the climate change. England's weather was full of frequent rain and cloudy skies. You had to get used to bringing an umbrella everywhere with you.

Hogwarts in Scotland was completely different from Ilvermorny, which resided on Mount Greylock. The towering buildings of the castle intimidated you a bit as you were used to the more modern school, but you were excited for the change of scenery.

The stone corridors, moving staircases, and enchanted portraits had captivated your imagination. The castle itself was full of new discoveries. Sure, you missed your old friends dearly, every one of them, but the owls worked hard and you managed to make new friends here.

As an exchange student from America, walking the hallowed halls of Hogwarts was a totally new experience. The ancient castle with its sprawling grounds, enchanted staircases, and hidden passageways was like stepping into a dream. But it wasn't just the magical environment that threw you off balance; it was the British slang that seemed to pop up in every conversation.

During your first week, you found yourself constantly bewildered by the new expressions. At breakfast, when a cheerful Hufflepuff asked if you wanted a "banger" with your eggs, you hesitated, unsure if it was an insult or a menu item. When a Ravenclaw mentioned being "knackered" after a long night of studying, you had to suppress a laugh, thinking it sounded more like a sound effect from a comic book than an expression of exhaustion.

The confusion was endless: "snogging" instead of kissing, "knickers" instead of underwear, "blimey" instead of a simple exclamation of surprise. You did your best to keep up, but the nuances of the language often left you feeling like you were missing the punchline of a joke. To put it simply, you were lost.

One afternoon, you were sitting in the library, poring over a stack of books for a Transfiguration assignment, when you heard a familiar voice behind you.

"Ciao, piccola," Theodore Nott drawled, sliding into the seat across from yours. His presence was effortlessly welcomed, with his cool demeanor and piercing blue eyes that seemed to see right through you. He was a strange boy at first, never letting anyone, but when you warmed up to him, he was a totally new person.

"Hi, Theo," you greeted him with a smile playing on your lips. Theodore had been one of the first students to approach you, his Italian heritage a surprising connection. He often teased you in his native language, enjoying the way you fumbled with the unfamiliar phrases. A nuisance, that he was.

"Come va la tua giornata?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief. ("How's your day doing?")

Already hearing this phrase a few times, you learned to understand its translation. With a sigh, you ran a hand through your hair. "It's been . . . interesting. I'm still trying to understand half of what everyone says here."

Theo chuckled, the sound rich and warm to your ears. "British slang getting to you?"

"You could say that," you admitted, leaning back in your chair as you watched his amusement at your misery. "I feel like I need a translator just for conversations."

"Well, if you think British slang is confusing, wait until I teach you some Italian slang," Theo smirked at the idea that appeared on his mind. "It's a whole different level."

Now this got your attention. "Teach me, then. It can't be that difficult from the British slang."

Over the next few weeks, Theodore Nott became your informal language tutor. He started with simple phrases, weaving them into everyday conversations until you began to pick them up naturally. He taught you how to greet someone with "Ciao, amico!" instead of a formal "Buongiorno," and how to say "Andiamo!" when you were ready to go.

One rainy afternoon, as you sat together in the Great Hall, Theo decided to test your knowledge. The rain tapped persistently against the high, arched windows, casting a muted gray light across the large hall. The enchanted ceiling mirrored the sky outside, swirling with dark clouds and flashes of lightning that illuminated the space completely. Despite the dreary weather, the Great Hall buzzed with the soft hum of student conversations, punctuated by the clinking of silverware and the rustling of pages.

Theo, seated across from you at the Slytherin table, leaned back casually, a mischievous glint in his eye. His dark hair fell slightly over his forehead, framing his sharp features. You had grown accustomed to his teasing, the way he delighted in challenging you with phrases in Italian, watching with amusement as you thought through the unfamiliar language. Today was no different, his eyes scanning the hall as if seeking inspiration for his next test.

You had been in the midst of revising for an upcoming Charms exam, your notes spread out around you in a chaotic array of parchment and textbooks. The soft light from the floating candles above cast a warm glow on the pages, making the ink shimmer slightly. As Theo's gaze returned to you, you knew another one of his lessons was coming.

"What would you say if you were really tired?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

Theo's questions were always a blend of practical and playful, designed to push you just a little further each time. He spoke with the ease of someone completely comfortable in his skin, his words flowing like the rain outside, steady and sure. His Italian phrases, though foreign at first, began to weave themselves into the mind of your understanding.

Your responses grew more confident, the hesitation in your voice diminishing with each passing day. You found yourself thinking in Italian at times, the language slipping into your thoughts as naturally as your own. Theo's delight was evident, his eyes lighting up whenever you got something right, his praise sincere and heartfelt.

The rain outside showed no signs of letting up, but within the Great Hall, a warmth lingered.

You thought for a moment, then confidently replied, "Sono stanca morta." The phrase rolled off your tongue more smoothly than before, each syllable a small victory in your journey to master his native language. The meaning — "I'm dead tired" — was all too familiar after long days filled with classes and studying.

Theo laughed, the sound rich and genuine, echoing softly in the near-empty Great Hall. His laughter was like a reward, a confirmation that you were getting it right. Silver eyes sparkled with approval, the corners of his lips curling into a smile that made your heart flutter. The warmth of his reaction was comforting against the dreary, rain-soaked afternoon outside.

"Well done!" His voice was filled with genuine pride and delight, making you feel accomplished. His praise was never out of place; it was always heartfelt.

Your heart swelled with a mix of pride and joy. Learning Italian was not just about understanding a new language, but also about bridging the gap between your worlds. Each phrase, each word, was a step closer to understanding Theo better, and a way to connect on a deeper level.

He leaned forward slightly, his eyes searching yours, waiting for your next move. "And if you wanted to compliment someone on a job well done?" His question was another gentle challenge, pushing you to dig deeper into your newfound vocabulary.

"Bravo!" you answered without hesitation. The word felt natural, a perfect fit for the context. As you spoke, you couldn't help but smile, the simple word carrying a world of meaning and mutual respect. Seeing the approval in Theo's eyes, you felt a surge of confidence.

Theo's smile broadened, and his expression softened with pride and admiration. The approval in his eyes was more than just about your grasp of the language; it was about your willingness to immerse yourself in something new, to share a part of his heritage, to make an effort to connect.

The atmosphere around you felt lighter, the earlier tension of the day's studies dissolving into a shared moment of triumph and connection. The Great Hall, with its towering windows and ancient stone walls, seemed to fade into the background, leaving just the two of you in your own little world of language and laughter.

The candles above flickered gently, casting a warm glow that danced across Theo's features, highlighting the pride in his eyes.

One day, as you walked together by the Black Lake, the cold water reflecting the moody sky, Theo turned to you, his expression thoughtful. The gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the ancient trees that lined the shore, their branches swaying rhythmically as if in silent conversation. The scene was picturesque, the expanse of the lake stretching out before you, a serene contrast to the bustling life within the castle walls. It was quiet out here, and you liked this spot.

"You know, you've picked up Italian slang faster than I expected," Theo remarked, his voice carrying a hint of admiration and surprise. His thoughtful tone blended seamlessly with the natural sounds around you, creating a moment of perfect harmony.

You laughed, the sound bright and carefree, echoing across the still waters. Nudging him playfully, you replied, "Maybe I had a good teacher." The playful banter was a reflection of the easy camaraderie that had developed between you, a testament to the countless hours spent learning and laughing together.

Theo's smile softened at your words, a tender expression that seemed to light up his face. His gaze lingered on you, the depth of his affection and pride evident in his eyes. The way he looked at you made your heart flutter, each shared glance made your knees tremble. Like you were the only girl at Hogwarts.

"Maybe," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with a warmth that enveloped you. "Or maybe you just have a knack for languages." His words were a gentle compliment, a recognition of your efforts and abilities.

The path around the Black Lake was peaceful, the occasional ripple disturbing the otherwise mirror-like surface of the water. The air was crisp and fresh, carrying with it the faint scent of pine and damp earth. As you walked side by side, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of you, the rest of the universe fading into the background.

Your footsteps synchronized, a silent dance of familiarity and comfort. The conversations flowed effortlessly, alternating between Italian lessons and shared dreams, each word weaving a tapestry of understanding and companionship. Theo's presence was a constant, steady and reassuring, his thoughtful insights and quiet encouragements a source of strength.

The sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the landscape. The twilight hues painted the sky in shades of pink and orange, a breathtaking sight that added to the magic of the moment. Theo's silhouette against the backdrop of the setting sun was a picture of serenity and quiet strength, a reminder of the stability he brought into your life.

Before you could fully process what was happening, the Slytherin boy took a small step closer, closing the distance between you. The warmth of his presence enveloped you, his proximity sending a gentle thrill through your body. He reached out, his fingers lightly brushing against yours, the touch sending a spark of electricity up your arm.

In that moment, with the golden light of dusk casting a magical glow around you, Theo leaned in. His movements were deliberate, filled with a tender hesitation. As his lips met yours, the world seemed to dissolve, leaving only the two of you in a bubble of pure, unadulterated connection.

The kiss was gentle at first, a soft press of lips that spoke everything you needed to know. The taste of his lips, the warmth of his breath, the gentle caress of his hand against your cheek — it all combined to create a sensation that was both exhilarating and deeply comforting.

Theo's hand moved to cup your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. The kiss deepened, becoming more confident, more insistent. Your hands found their way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. The connection between you intensified, the kiss becoming a language of its own, expressing everything words couldn't.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other. The world slowly came back into focus, the sounds of nature reasserting themselves around you. Theo's eyes, still holding that mix of affection and awe, met yours. A soft, contented smile played on his lips.

"Grazie, Theo," you said softly, your voice filled with gratitude.

"For what?" he asked confused, his brow furrowing slightly.

"For being patient with me. For this. For . . . everything."

Theo's eyes softened, and he reached out, intertwining your fingers in one. "No worries," he replied, his voice just as soft. "I'm glad I could help."

23 notes · View notes

j-oneseungz · 2 days

Text

point discontinuity | kim seungmin

genre: frenemy-ish au, housemates au, fluffy, suggestive 18+

warning(s): suggestive content, horny thoughts but fluffy overall, cursing, mentions of drinking and being drunk

word count: 1.2k

...

Another night, another house party. Drunk out of your mind, you lean your body on the wall, holding on to an empty red cup. Perhaps you should have paced yourself with the jungle juice. Changbin does not play when it comes to his mixes. You probably went over your usual limit tonight but it is what it is. That failed exam needs to get out of your system.

It doesn’t help that the one person you can’t stand in your friend group was approaching you. He takes the cup and gently puts your arm around his neck. It doesn’t help that he smells so fucking good that it was addictive. It doesn’t help that he wraps his arm around your waist. It doesn’t help that he’s so close to you that you could combust.

He slowly walks you over to the entrance of the house. You want to give him a hard time but your brain and body are mush.

“Did I get the right Y/N? Or did I get a decoy?” he jokes.

“Minniee. I’m real. No fake,” you pout.

“Minnie? Are you sure you’re the right Y/N? Cause the Y/N I know still fights me even when she’s drunk.”

“I’m I’m tiiired. I just want bed. And snuggles.” You shiver as cold air bit your skin. Seungmin takes off his hoodie and puts it on you. You were engulfed in his sweet, musky scent you never get tired off. Of course you won’t admit that to anyone. Or him especially.

“I’ll call Lixie to come over tonight so he can cuddle you. Now we have to get you home.” He guides you to his car and opens the door for you.

“But I want Minnie instead for snuggles.” You pout even more.

“Don’t you want your best friend more than your frenemy?”

“Nooo. I want Minnieee!! Seungminnie!!!”

“Fine fine. But you better not be squirmy tonight.”

The ride home was quiet. You don’t know how you ended up at this point. You’ve only been inside Seungmin’s car for a whopping three times including this one despite him being one of your housemates for the past year. You know your little “hatred” for him was just a facade for what lives in your psyche.

Infatuation is such a beautiful mess. The countless times you’ve had scenarios of him playing in your head is insurmountable. The way he teases you. Fuck. It’s so hot that… that it keeps you up all night just thinking and thinking about him. Fingers under the sheets you pretend were his. Bliss. Euphoric. Heavenly.

Right when he parked in front of the house, he didn’t even let you out of the car until he went to open the passenger door for you and carried you in his arms.

“Ack! Seungmin put me down!!! You- you kidnapper!!!” You smack his chest. But that had no effect on him, seeing how he was chuckling at you.

“No way I’m letting you walk and trip all over yourself.”

Your eyes meet his and you wrap your arms around his neck. He doesn’t even need to try making your heart skip a beat. Just the way he’s looking at you makes you turn into a puddle of water that will eventually evaporate. Fuck him and his pretty face.

It’s not so easy for Seungmin either. Your pretty pouty lips are so kissable, he can devour them for hours without stopping. Your dress has ridden up, making for your most of your thighs exposed. Damn. They would be pretty painted with his love marks. Holy shit. He shouldn’t be having these thoughts right now. He needs to take care of your drunken state.

“Minnieee,” you giggle as you snap him out of his indecent reverie. He swears the lilt of your voice will make him implode. “How how come you look so pwetty?”

“Huh?” You shouldn't be filling his thoughts that drives his delusions even more.

Your hand finds its way to his chin, grabbing his face even more closer to admire his beauty. The liquor and strawberry perfume commingling together to make such a dizzying sensation is making Seungmin hang by the thread.

Be a gentleman now Seungmin come on.

No words were shared as he takes you to your bedroom. He pretty much knows where you placed all your clothes at, considering how many times you’ve come home drunk. It’s not at all awkward between you two despite butting heads on numerous occasions. He still makes it a point to take care of you when the other roommates are not home, especially when you're drunk out of your mind. Or when you're sick. Or when you're losing your head because of shitty professors and their shitty assignments. Or when you needed that chocolate croissant from that one French bakery on the other side of town at 12 in the morning. Or when you just needed someone to hug because why not.

You were still in laying down in bed with your body sprawled out like Patrick Star. “Go take a shower or I will bathe you myself dummy,” he chided as he gives you your change of clothes.

“Fiiiine.” You march to your restroom with the thought of Seungmin bathing you. How would it feel having his hands massage and lather your hair? What if they trait down your wet and dewy shoulders to your clavicle to your brea-

Stop It, God Fucking Dammit!!!

Once you finished showering, Seungmin was already in his cute puppy pajamas, waiting for you on your bed. You were a bit more sober now and you realize how your earlier dumbass self wanted to cuddle him. Well. You couldn’t back out now. You weren’t gonna wuss out just because of Kim Seungmin. Your so-called frenemy.

For some reason, the bed doesn't feel so bad with him being there. Quite the contrary actually. It feels more at home and cozy. Both of you slid under the comforter and you take the initiative of getting closer to him.

“Hi,” you whisper as you caress his cheeks.

“Hey,” he whispers back. You swear you just saw his eyes twinkle. His arm find its way again back to your waist and he pulls your body close to his. It was like finally putting the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle together. All this time, you both knew it was you two meant for each other all along. It definitely took some time to share vulnerabilities and parts of each other but it was all worth it.

“I like you,” you blurt out all of a sudden. You felt the need to cover your mouth. You can tell the shock on his face but it then contorts to that of intrigue and mischief.

You add,” Of course I’ll never admit that to you.”

“Of course not,” he laughs. He scoots closer to kiss your nose and your temple.

“I—.” You are definitely sober now.

“I’ll never admit that I like you too.”

You both share a knowing smile with each other. Soaking in each other’s comfort wasn’t in your bucket list but for sure being his forever will be added.

...

A/N: Hello hello! Sorry it took a while for a new fic to release! The Jeongin and Jisung fics will have to wait for a bit since this summer is still pretty hectic :,) I hope you guys enjoy! Please do leave a feedback if you can! I am open to taking any suggestions to make my stories better in the future!!!

41 notes · View notes

sharkszone · 3 days

Text

The foxes as a dnd group pt 2

Renee (dm) : ok dan, that about sums up what you missed last session. So, whats everyone doing at camp?

Matt : I wake my boyfriend up with a gentle kiss on the forehead.

Dan : ok where the fuck was that in the briefing?!

---------

Renee : you're walking through the desert as you come across a large hole about 30 feet deep.

Nicky : is it filled with sand?

Renee : no, because its a hole. It's not filled with anything?

Nicky : hm

-----------

Renee: ok andrew, describe the kill.

Andrew: i would first slash his ankles so he couldnt run, then go for the jugular to stop him from screaming as i finish him with a knife to the heart.

Renee : ok andrew, you pushed him off the roof... how did you push him?

-----------

Allison : ok so me and nicky will meet first seperate from the group.

Nicky : woo ok quality time with the princess, whatsup... my girl?

Allison : are you... trying to roleplay... heterosexuality?

Dan : also, being straight doesnt mean misogyny dude. Allisons not gonna play a princess just because shes a girl.

Allison : oh, no dan. I am a princess. Of course im a fucking princess. A badass warrior princess, like peach but hotter.

Nicky : i dont think peach was a warrior... but sure whatever you want baby ill be your mario.

Allison: yeah, no.

------------

Neil : ok so i cast sickening radiance then!

Renee : perfect! So that targets all 4 enemies at once.

Aaron : uhm it actually is a friendly fire spell so also will effect andrew and m-

Andrew (through his teeth) : shut up you dm dick rider. Take the win.

#all for the game #aftg #neil josten #andrew minyard #renee walker #aaron minyard #matt boyd #allison reynolds #dan wilds #nicky hemmick #aftg x dnd

26 notes · View notes

g-zma · 21 hours

Text

// random rambling about Guzma and his relationships

I don't even know. I ramble. This has some discussions of child abuse, trauma, and manipulation.

This is very long by the way. Like. Actually though.

Okay to start off with, let's talk about Guzma and Elio.

Elio is what really led to Guzma being able to get help. Without Elio coming and beating the shit out of Guzma every time the guy ran into him, he wouldn't have had the motivation to get better. The big thing is that Guzma didn't really mean to get better in terms of himself, he just wanted to get better at battling. That has more to do with Hala, who I'll talk about in a bit.

So, now that Guzma's in a better place, he's also running into Elio a lot more. The kid lives right next to Iki town, and he's friends with Hau, so he shows up all the time. Not only that, but the kid was there to deal with the UB situation at the same time he was, and though Guzma would never admit it, he has a soft spot for kids.

So he won't say it out loud, but he really does care about Elio. He wants to make sure the kid has a good life.

Now, what about him and Hala?

Hala's been Kahuna for a while. Probably since Guzma was a kid. So while Guzma didn't know him personally, he did know him before the events of the games. And then when the big, powerful Kahuna came around and told him to stop being a baby, and that he would help Guzma become stronger, Guzma agreed. It was a bit begrudgingly at first, but he did agree.

But Hala knew that, in order to become better at battling, Guzma needed to get better in the rest of his life. He had to face his issues.

Guzma had, obviously, a lot of problems, especially after the situation with Lusamine (which I will also discuss). Being possessed by Nihilego reopened a bunch of wounds that had scarred over and pretty much forced them to the front of his mind. And that, amongst other things, freaked him out bad. It brought back memories he had forgotten, things that he'd purposefully ignored. Mostly, things to do with his Father. Guzma's dad was abusive, he did not treat his son well. And the Nihilego made him relive that, all in an instant.

The biggest things Hala has worked on with Guzma so far, though, are his anger issues and alcohol abuse. They've touched on the underlying trauma, but Guzma tends to get very uncooperative, especially with people like Hala, who are older, kind figures towards him. I think I've mentioned before how the anger issues stem from his father's abuse, but not in its own post.

So now we go into a bit of a Guzma and his parents, as well as Alolan society in general.

Guzma's reputation as an aggressive, violent person started as a defense mechanism. It didn't help against his dad, but he was already being bullied fairly often, and it did help with that. Kids were less likely to pick on the scrappy bug nerd when the scrappy bug nerd would start throwing punches if you looked at him wrong. But, it also backfired a bit. Nobody was willing to get close enough to him to realize that something was wrong. If he came to school with bruises and scrapes, it was automatically assumed that he'd gotten into a fight, that he was the aggressor. And he actively pushed away anyone who tried to get to know him.

He wasn't willing to accept any help that was offered. He was generally scorned by the people around him, and so he simply didn't trust them. This especially came into effect when he started his Island Challenge. He was so proud of himself. He worked so hard, he wanted to be captain. That was the best award he could've ever been given. But then he failed. He couldn't complete it, so he wasn't allowed to be a captain. And his dad was angry with him. And Guzma was scared. He was terrified. But he had his own pokemon now, and a Golisopod can be awful scary when it wants to be. So Guzma's dad got what was coming to him, and Guzma ran the fuck away.

And where did he end up? In a new group. Not Skull- This was a group under the Kahuna before Nanu. Guzma, in a way, got what he wanted. Approval. Of course, not everyone's approval, though. Tapu Bulu ended up rejecting its Kahuna for whatever reason, and striking that group down. Guzma lost the one group of people he had that he'd finally been accepted by. And he was pissed. So, he started Skull. He built his group up again, new. He leaned into the cruel, scary reputation he'd made for himself. And for the most part, they weren't actually that bad. Sure, they stole, they threatened people, but they needed to feed themselves. They were the people who couldn't get jobs, for whatever reason. Who were thrown out of their homes. Who needed someplace to go, but weren't accepted anywhere else. This was the place they were accepted. And that continued for a while, until Guzma got involved with Lusamine.

And that is a whole situation.

Lusamine needed someone who could do her dirty work. She needed someone to take her blame. And she found that in Guzma. He already had a reputation as a thug. So, she started to get in contact with him. She gave him that approval that he sought so desperately. She used his childhood for her own purposes. When he told her about how he failed, she told him that she was proud. When he told her that his mother never did anything to protect him, she told him that she would. She gave him things he needed, money and food and clothes and medicine to provide for his team, and he was so desperate to keep her. I don't think it was necessarily romantic, but he did love her, and she used it entirely for her own advantage. And once she had him solidly stuck in her trap, she started pulling strings. She removed the exits. If he needed a few days, she would threaten him with taking away something, or to step back. And he needed her. So he did what she said. Especially considering that she was a smart woman. She never made it an explicit threat. She kept it strong enough that he would panic, but hidden enough that he wouldn't catch on to what she was doing.

And this really hurt him, especially after the events in Ultra Space. He had been betrayed, and the fact that she never actually cared about him was shoved in his face. And that, combined with Nihilego literally possessing him for a moment, is why he's so freaked out by the idea of something controlling his mind, now. It's happened to him twice, though the how of it was different.

Now, backtracking a little bit. Let's look at Guzma and Kukui (and by extension Burnet).

Kukui and Guzma met about during their island challenges. They started at the same time, and from the same island. Really, the Island Challenge just provided a situation where Guzma couldn't escape Kukui's attempts at friendship. And he really did try! Guzma pushed him away at every turn, but Kukui kept on keeping on. They ended up rivals, somewhat. But, then they both couldn't complete the challenge. This obviously affected Guzma way more than Kukui.

Kukui was sad that he couldn't be a Trial Captain, but he had other things to work for. He put himself into his schooling, became a professor, and travelled! Which is how he met his lovely wife, Burnet. So for a long while, he wasn't in contact with Guzma. Even when he returned to Alola, he never really saw him. Skull, yeah, but not Guzma himself. And he was sad about that, but it was okay.

Then things really started kicking off! He saw Guzma again. And sure, that was exciting, but Guzma was even more against friendship than he had been before. But!! But then Guzma was taken in by Hala, and he couldn't avoid him. And he was a bit more willing to allow Kukui in.

Which leads us to ~about~ present day with those two. Kukui cares about Guzma a lot, and Guzma's working on letting him do that. Because Kukui and Burnet really do want to help him. And he needs it, even if it's hard to admit.

I think that he'd be more willing to open up to Burnet at first, despite not knowing her for nearly as long. Probably because he hadn't known her for as long. She knew her husband has a huge personality, so she was willing to be the balance to that. Just letting Guzma sit and ruminate with her. And he started to appreciate that, a lot.

Both Kukui and Burnet love Guzma, and he loves them, but again, I don't know if it would be necessarily romantic in nature. They have a bit of a qpr going on. More than just friends, but not quite romantic. Kukui and Burnet are absolutely romantic though.

Guzma's relationship with Plumeria is more simple.

She's been there for him through it all, and she's going to keep being there. She's the big sis of Team Skull, and she's not intending to let that go.

As well as his relationship with the other Alola kids.

He's gotten fairly close to them, especially Gladion and Hau. Gladion, because he did work for Skull, and he felt bad for the kid. Hau, because he's basically his unwilling big brother now. He'd never admit it, but he really does enjoy spending time with them. Most of the time, anyways.

That's the main major things I have to say. I hope this was interesting, lmao

#OOC post #big ramble

15 notes · View notes