#0001. STALKING

[bergeremporium]

AI 0001

Artificial Intelligence, before conquering the world,has suggested that I cosplay a superhero taking a bike ride while attempting to stalk Caelee Spaeny. Some of this seems like a bad idea waiting to be born. I think Artificial Intelligence might need a hand in conquering the world if this is the best it’s processing power can produce unless… it is this very doubt that will put AI in the…

[whatswiththenames]

33:1am

Rambling num. 0001

it’s three am, and I’m in here waking up, slowly cause my thoughts are racing. Like….

Dude y’all policed my entire Facebook page trying to harras me

then y’all did this trying to out me as a homosexual and guilt tripping with this karmic damage thing cause y’all had objectively sexuality’s someone else tattoos to try to say I was gender confused

I felt y’all do that on Facebook then when I’m blankly asking for y’all to stop

y’all still try to capitalize off of it

It’s like you did this knowing you had 100,000 toxic fucking fans to do this bullshit and I hate it vehemently. It’s like

I don’t even wanna know. Y’all think I even give a fuck

I saw these fucking Morons stalked me on Snapchat in the fucking first place with this shit and I knew they were harassing Too and I don’t get a say? Y’all use goddamn socio warfare and I have to sit back here knowing y’all are cowards?

I’m in here like y’all are fucking with the Elohim

stop trying to write me off as only a child of Allah you toxic fucks

this gay nonsense only started cause you had That Crazy Women try to fucking call me gay in the first place

like

I’ve sat here

I don’t

like???? They’ve been using neo tribalism and cyberware

….I guess I know I’m upset

but Jesus

y’all can’t be serious

see I’m only ranting because y’all keep trying to hyperfemmize me and y’all don’t think it’s biological warfare?

don’t even get me started that there’s two forms of sexual traumas (that I definitely know are trues)

hyper sexual trauma and asexual trauma and y’all still tried to say that I was hyper sexual????

how bro?

how

don’t even get me started on this fucking alcohol is spiritual ware bullshit

the fact y’all do that is fucking white supremacy

[narniansagafamily]

Narnian Saga Family's second event

Heads Will Roll

October 1-31, 0001-end of the world: There is a place by Cair Paravel where dreams engulf the sky. They say a curse or spell once passed bewitches every eye and tell the tale of man or ghost sequestered on a horse-a headless fiend who stalks the night with wrath and no remorse.

With the arrival of autumn, a ghastly curse has descended upon the Known World, bringing with it an evil spirit that will leave heads rolling. No one is safe, yet not everyone will perish. Who controls this headless hessian, no one knows. When thunder roars and lightning cracks, the townsfolk near and far had better scurry, for who knows who will be the targeted victim tonight. Despite boarded windows and growing suspicions, the townsfolk will still find ways to celebrate the season and all hallows eve. Family and friends will gather to bake and hand out soul cakes, pray for their dearly departed, carve pumpkins and hand them out with messages, and make and wear masks to ward off evil spirits. Young souls will run through corn and wheat fields, and give their friends and loved ones a good scare with their games. The brave souls will go on haunted rides through rumored haunted forests, and explore castles said to be long haunted. On Hallowe'en, a Danse Macabre will take place. Parties and balls will be had, fate cake will be served, and heads will roll.

Events:

The Headless Horseman: a headless horseman will cause havoc all through the month of October, sending everyone into a panic yearly. This will be the main theme of the event.

Haunted rides and exploring haunted places: some notable haunted areas include the Shuddering Wood, Snow House, Cair Paravel.

Soul Cakes: soul cakes will be baked and handed alongside prayers said for departed relatives to commemorate them.

Masks: masks will be made and given out to ward off evil spirits.

Fate Cakes: fate cakes will be made at parties, with needles, thimbles, coins, and rings baked inside for this favorite party game. If your slice contains a needle, your are destined to the fate of spinsterhood. If your slice contains a thimble, coin, or ring, you are destined for riches.

Pumpkin Carving: Pumpkins will be carved with cheeky messages, invitations, and spooky faces to be left on doorsteps of friends and family.

Danse Macabre: masquerade balls will be held in churchyards, graveyards, and castles throughout the Known World, including a massive grand masquerade ball to be held at each reigning castle throughout the world.

OOC Information

Feel free to play with any character you like, to what extent you like. Please try and tag all threads with the tag nsfevent002

[thepolyamorouspolymath]

What is with me and pissed off men stalking me? I mean honestly.

Guy I was kind of friends of friends with. I tried for a long time but he was a sanctimonious prick who thought he was always right so I cut him off.

Contacts me again (does my forehead say opposite day on it all the time so people think fuck off and stay there means try again?!?) I again try to ge cordial because I like to try to be a good person and give people the benefit of the doubt that they have changed -- I wouldn't reach out to someone unless I had changed, so...

He gets downright abusive because I said: a) no one KNOWS anything unless they have hard data that's replicatible, b) it is good to believe in whatever you choose and also acknowledge the possibility that you may be wrong, as keeping an open mind helps you grow, c) that as a grown adult I'm allowed to choose what I'd like to do and how, and that as I respect his choices, I expect mine to be respected as well.

In return he fucking raged at me insulting me with everything he could think of, thinking it'd hurt me (bro your shade game is weak, start looking to Shakespeare or Drag Queens, but you're gonna need to come a lot harder before it does more than just irk me) including how I wasn't things that I never said I was lol.

I said ok, that's two strikes, this ain't baseball, we're done, and I blocked him.

He starts messaging my business account for more raging because I dared not to be his sycophant.

Then starts this bizarre pissing contest about he's an Honors student at University (University of Phoenix)... um, 'kay. Well my degree is done with a 4.0 which I did while raising 4 amazing kids and I've actually worked in my field, and managed relationships, and I cut off my toxic abusive relatives by the time I was 20 while you still live with toxic mom... are we done with the dick measuring yet bc I promise mine will always be bigger.

Again said, we're done here. And blocked him.

(I did screenshot both before deleting.)

But today was the final fucking straw -- I have 2 business accounts, one that's more personal stuff, one that's directly business because coaching is weird and you need to share your relatability and shit.

I had posted a message about a brilliant woman I had just seen speak and how excellent her speech was and I looked forward to connecting as we work in adjacent areas.

He hijacked that to comment some bullshit!

So I screenshotted that, and sent all of them to his school as a violation of code of conduct and cyberbullying and had him informed that if he ever contacted me again I would get a restraining order to prevent him interacting.

Upside: Got to use this as content on how to disengage with abusive people and maintain boundaries.

But seriously... people say I don't want to talk to you and I... don't. I have on accession had B contact them if they had some of my stuff to arrange for him to pick it up without me present, respecting not wanting contact with me. Yet men continue to think it's fucking acceptable.

Jesus christ man create a fake contact in your phone to a non existent number (in the US, mine go 000-000-0001, 000-000-0002, etc) with their name and a contact photo and yell at it all you want. No need to actually be bothering people so you can vent.

[dallanebbia]

meliora

fandom: bnha pairing: kacchako; bakugou katsuki x uraraka ochako word count: 6.8k warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, suggestive content synopsis: bakugou is a walking trouble magnet, aizawa tries to keep him alive, and uraraka just wants to do her job – or, where it takes a while for bakugou to warm up to the idea of a partner notes: written for day 6 of kacchako week 2020, with the prompt ‘spy/secret agent au.’ there is a very loose plot but it’s mostly just a peek into the adventures of walking disaster bakugou and his level-headed partner uraraka. headers for each part indicate [mission number _ local military time _ location] ao3: [link]

meliora (n.) - Latin, becoming better, improving

─── ･｡ﾟ❁ﾟ｡･ ───

[0000 _ 1734 _ Undisclosed]

“Absolutely fucking not.”

Aizawa sighs, rolling his eyes. “You act like you have any say in this, problem child.”

“Like hell I don’t.” Bakugou scowls, ignoring the indignant glare boring into the side of his head. “I’m not gonna waste my time babysitting some shitty extra, especially not one that looks like some fuckin’ cat lady.”

Anger flares behind big brown eyes, but the woman in front of him just purses her lips. She’s dressed like a kindergarten teacher or a librarian, in an atrocious mustard cardigan with a shapeless sack of a dress underneath. With those chubby cheeks, she looks about as threatening as a guinea pig.

It matches what little he’s gleaned about her, just from his quick once-over. She’s probably the prudish type, a consummate stickler for the rules, and altogether too soft to be an agent – let alone partner to someone with his experience.

“Actually, it’s the other way around,” Aizawa drawls. “She’s the one babysitting you.” 

Bakugou stills, taking a second to process that. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?!”

“You have some of the lowest scores in stealth training amongst the entire agency.” That makes him scowl, the back of his neck turning hot. “The director thought you could benefit from a little… pragmatism, in the form of a partner.”  

“Hah?” Bakugou bristles, and from the corner of his eye, he can see the woman hide a tiny laugh. “You implying I can’t do undercover shit?”

“You’re the walking equivalent of a grenade,” is the flat response. The dark-haired man pins Bakugou with a narrow-eyed stare, one that has his shoulders hunching a little. “You’re a good agent, Bakugou, but sooner or later your luck is going to run out. You need someone to watch your back.”

“What, and this bitch is gonna do that?” The blonde scoffs. “Fuck no; get me Shitty Hair, or that stupid nerd Deku - least they can carry their weight.”

That gains him a reaction from the woman, but he returns her sharp scowl with a sneer of his own. Aizawa just raises an unimpressed eyebrow, and says firmly, “Again – you don’t have a choice.”

Bakugou recognizes the hint of sterness in the older man’s tone, the admonishment lingering in every word, and grits his teeth. He knows a lost cause when he sees one. 

“Tch, we’ll see how long she lasts,” he seethes, and stalks towards the door. He makes a point to push past the round-faced extra, knocking into her roughly with his shoulder, but all he gets is a slight shift of her foot and another pointed look. He yanks the door open roughly, and is halfway down the corridor when he hears a voice calling out to him, clear and bright.

“I look forward to working with you, Bakugou!” she says, all sweet and polite and shit, and he flips her off from over his shoulder, not bothering to look back.

─── ･｡ﾟ❁ﾟ｡･ ─── 

 [0001 _ 1715 _ Tokyo]

They agree to meet up two blocks away from the nightclub owned by their informant, and he almost wants to facepalm when she hurries down the block towards him.

“Sorry!” she pants, bending over to catch her breath. “My taxi got stuck in traffic, so I ran the last few blocks and –”

He tunes her out, scanning her outfit with contempt. She’s in some flouncy pink dress and white strappy sandals, looking more like someone going picnicking rather than clubbing, and he’s already so done with this bullshit.

“God, fuck this,” he snarls, turning on his heel and stalking towards the club.

“H-hey! Wait for me –!” He hears the flat of her sandals against the pavement, but doesn’t bother to even look at her when she catches up, trying to match his longer strides. “Bakugou-kun —”

“If you can’t keep up, go the fuck home, Round Face,” he spits out, ignoring her outraged squeak at her new nickname. “This bastard is already a pain in my fuckin’ ass to deal with, and I don’t need some dumb extra dragging me down.”

She mumbles something under her breath, probably complaining to Aizawa via the comm-link disguised as her earrings. Bakugou just rolls his eyes; she’s just one of the many brain-dead fuckwads the academy spits out, soft and stupid and useless. Round Face will inevitably fuck up – they always do – and he’ll be back to working solo in no time.

Thankfully, she keeps quiet as they skirt around the back of the club coming up to a side entrance. Bakugou bangs his fist on the painted metal door, giving only a low grunt in greeting to the bouncer who ushers them inside.

He can't help but scoff when he sees the way the other man’s eyes widen at the sight of his partner. Dressed the way she is, the idiot is just asking for it, and Bakugou is just enough of an asshole to let her deal with any wandering hands on her own. 

He leads the way to the bastard’s office – as always, there’s a thick layer of smoke in the air, obscuring the gaudy décor with a hazy cloud. Round Face scrunches her nose as she follows after him, slipping a smile onto her face.

“Bakugou.” Behind the huge desk in the room, Goro is smoking some thick-ass cigar, trying to pull off some kind of Western mafia look that just makes him seem all the more idiotic. Beady little eyes slide over to Round Face in disinterest, before doing a double take. “Oh? You’ve brought a friend with you?”

Bakugou opens his mouth to vehemently deny any association with the woman next to him, but he’s cut off by Round Face stepping forward.

“Yoshino,” she simpers, batting her eyelashes and throwing her shoulders back in a way that pushes her tits out, straining against her dress. His skin crawls as Goro’s eyes drop to her chest with a leer, but all Round Face does is smile prettily. “Just making sure Bakugou-kun doesn’t ruffle any feathers; I know how difficult he can be.”

“O-oh, he’s no problem at all, ma’am.” The bastard actually stutters when Round Face tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and looks like he’s about to cream himself right then and there.

Ma’am? Bakugou blinks, eyes darting between the two of them in confusion and slowly building rage. What the actual fuck?

“I just wanted to come and thank you for being so cooperative with us for all these months,” she says sweetly, as if she’s been the one dragging her ass to this shitty club every week, for the past fucking year. “I know it isn’t much, but I hope you know that we – that I really appreciate all that you do.”

Goro starts tripping over his words, red-faced as he starts sputtering out details that Bakugou instinctively commits to memory. When the bastard starts pawing through his drawers, Round Face takes the opportunity to glance over her shoulder with a pointed, tiny smirk.

Every expletive on the tip of his tongue is swallowed back when Bakugou realizes what she’s doing; they all come back in full force when Goro pulls out a thick envelope of photographs. Bakugou recognizes the information - he's been trying to wheedle them from the bastard for weeks now - and all he can do is grit his teeth as Goro just hands the package over to Round Face, grinning like a loon.

For once, the meetup is short and relatively painless – discounting the gag-worthy sight of the bastard escorting his new partner to the back door on his arm, blushing like some kind of schoolgirl. When the door closes behind them with a sharp snap, she shudders with a grimace.

“God, he’s vile,” she mutters. Bakugou makes a vague sound of agreement, steering them out of the alley and back to their meeting point, before rounding on her with a scowl.

“What the fuck was that?”

She just raises an eyebrow at him, something satisfied lurking behind her eyes. “Aizawa mentioned that Goro wasn’t cooperating with you, so he asked me to try something different.”

Bakugou wrinkles his nose. “So you decided to push your tits into that fuckwad’s face?”

“What? I didn’t push my – ” Her face turns pink as her voice lowers to a furious whisper. “ – my tits, anywhere! This dress doesn’t even show any cleavage!”

“Right,” he scoffs, ripping open the envelope and thumbing through the photos inside. “Next you’ll be tellin’ me you picked that shitty outfit on purpose.”

“Well, of course I did.” He stops, looking up at her. “Didn’t you read the file?”

“What file?”

“Goro’s file? The one where it clearly says he has a fetish for cute, innocent girls?” He thinks back, vaguely remembering something like that when he’d skimmed the bastard’s dossier months ago. It obviously didn’t apply to him, so he’d forgotten about it.

“Huh.” He eyes her speculatively for a moment, before stuffing the envelope into his suit jacket. “Guess you’re not entirely useless, Round Face.”

─── ･｡ﾟ❁ﾟ｡･ ───

[0008 _ 0036 _ Quebec]

“I have a clear shot.” Round Face’s voice crackles in his ear, all static. Bakugou has to hide his wince behind his champagne flute, hand tightening on the glass.

“Yeah, fuck no.” With the amount of schmoozing he’s had to do, he’s not in a charitable mood, especially with the way his shoes are pinching his toes. He’s itching for a little action – it’d be the only way to make all this bullshit even remotely redeemable. “I’m the one who’s gonna kill him.”

“He’s literally right by the window.” The frustrated note in Round Face’s voice is obvious, even through the comm-link. “It’s the perfect set up – ”

“I don’t fuckin’ care, he’s mine.”  

There’s a low murmur, something that sounds like a French curse, before she speaks again. “I have been sitting here freezing my ass off for the past two hours,” she hisses. “It’s the middle of the winter, in Canada. It’s snowing. Can I please take the shot?”

Bakugou just smirks to himself. Times like this almost make the hassle of having a partner worthwhile, if only to make Round Face's life as miserable as fucking possible. 

“Not. Fucking. Happening,” he enunciates, reveling in the faint sound of her teeth chattering. Just for good measure, he switches his empty flute for a new one, savoring the taste of the expensive champagne on his tongue.

“Right,” she mutters flatly. “Well, sorry in advance then.”

Before he can ask what the hell that’s supposed to mean, he hears a muffled crackle. His blood starts to rush in his ears as he realizes what she’s done, screams starting to echo in the air. “You stupid bitch – ”

His partner doesn’t even bother letting him finish. “I'm glad that I finally graduated from useless extra to stupid bitch,” she snarks. He can hear her breath pick up as she starts making her way off of the rooftop. “ 'Least I’m not an asshole with an over-inflated ego.”

He sees red. “You’re fucking dead,” he hisses, and Round Face just snorts in reply. His communicator clicks, signaling that she’s turned the link off from her end, and he grits his teeth in a furious grimace.

As he makes his way out of the gala, he takes a peek into the main ballroom. The target is laid flat on the floor, a bloom of red centered above his heart with eyes staring lifelessly at the ceiling. Their client – the man’s wife – is putting on an award-worthy act, wailing and crying hysterically, but his focus is on the window.

There’s a clean hole in the glass, cracks spider-webbing out from the tiny opening. The kill is as close to textbook as it gets, even with the thickly falling snow and the blustering winter winds, and he huffs.

“Not bad,” he mutters, reluctantly impressed. As he continues on his way, he can feel his respect for her begrudgingly grow a few notches, the faintest spark of curiosity settling in the back of his mind.   

─── ･｡ﾟ❁ﾟ｡･ ─── 

[0017 _ 1542 _ St. Petersburg]

The echo of the shot rings through the room, and it takes Bakugou about 0.8 seconds to realize that he probably should have used the gun with the silencer.

“Fuck.”

As the man slumps behind the deli counter, Round Face whirls on him with wild eyes. “You –!”

“Bratishka?! ” A low voice calls, and both of them wince as a trio of men burst into the room, freezing in horror at the scene.

Within a second, Bakugou grabs Round Face and barrels out of the butcher shop. In the following two seconds, shots ring out behind them, and suddenly they’re running.

“Let go of me – !”

“Just run!” Bakugou yells, slowing his stride so she can keep pace with him. He doesn’t let go, tugging her along as he darts between confused shoppers and ducks into the shadows of a narrowed street.

There’s a roar of unintelligible Russian accompanied by thundering footsteps, coming closer and closer. It takes a moment to find a hidden alcove, tucked behind an entryway, but he pushes Round Face into the dark space with a pounding pulse and the punch-drunk feeling of adrenaline rushing through his blood.

He doesn’t know how long they stand there, waiting in tense silence. He’s pressing himself flat against Round Face, trying to flatten their bodies against the wall, and both of them pant as they listen for the sounds of footsteps.

Above the mechanical hum of a boiler and the muted sounds of the city, the shouts steadily get fainter and fainter. Bakugou exhales slowly, tension draining from him, and then stiffens again as he realizes that their faces are only a few centimeters apart.

They’re standing literally chest to chest, and he’s so close that he can see the flecks of gold and amber in her eyes – he can see the way her lips part ever so slightly as her breath hitches. Staring at her like this, Bakugou feels inexplicably caught in the moment – his brain careening off-course and drifting away, rudderless.

He only has a split second to prepare himself, as Round Face’s wide brown eyes suddenly narrow into slits.

“You idiot!”

The shove to his chest is surprisingly, deceptively strong, pushing him back out into the alleyway. Round Face follows quickly after him, glaring, and he can’t help but think that she looks surprisingly fierce with a scowl on her face.

“The fuck did you just call me?” he snarls, and he’s a little disgruntled to find that she doesn’t even react to his threatening tone.

It took her ballsy shot during that mission in Canada – she gave Aizawa some ‘better to beg forgiveness than ask permission’ bullshit that the man eats up – to unearth the spine of steel hidden below that goody-two shoes act. He doesn’t know whether to be impressed or annoyed by the fact that she’s willing to mouth off to him now.

“You heard what I said,” she pants angrily. “You’re an idiot. A hot-headed, utterly infuriating idiot! You just shot our only lead in this stupid case, in the middle of his own goddamn store!”

Putting it like that makes it sound worse than it really is, and Bakugou scowls. “Did you, or did you not see the goddamn machine gun he had pointed at us?”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “He wasn’t going to shoot us – ”

“Like hell he wasn’t.” He gives her a flat look. “The safety was disengaged. I ain’t dying because of some trigger-happy Russian mobster.”

Round Face falters a little at that, but insists, “You don’t know for sure! And now we won’t know for sure if the intel from Feodor was actually trustworthy!”

“And I already fucking told you, that asshat is a goddamn liar but there’s no way he can fake these kinds of documents,” he said exasperatedly. “You were the one who insisted on following up on a wild goose chase.”

“Well, we’ll never know now, will we?” Round Face snarks back, her chin jutting out stubbornly. “Agency protocol dictates that we are required to investigate – ”

“ – potential leads, assuming a low risk assessment and the probability of additional intel,” he finishes flatly, rolling his eyes. “Don’t quote that garbage to me and use your fuckin’ head, Round Face. Feodor was playin’ us – you seriously think some low-level grunt has any worthwhile information on a Bratva captain?”  

There’s a mulish look on her face, one that he’s familiar with by now. Round Face hates being proved wrong just as much as he does, and just purses her lips as she concedes his point with a quiet grumble.

“Whatever.” The pout on her face makes her look like an angry, temperamental puppy, and for some reason, he can’t help but find it kind of cute.

Only a little.  

─── ･｡ﾟ❁ﾟ｡･ ─── 

[0024 _ 2229 _ Sydney]

“He’s here,” Round Face murmurs, hiding her mouth behind a manicured hand. Brown eyes cut to his, before darting over his shoulder. “Seven o’clock. Right behind you.” 

He grunts, snaking an arm around her waist until he has a hand placed at the small of her back, tugging her close. She leans into his chest, sighing softly, and from a bystander’s perspective, they probably look like a pair of long-time lovers, whispering in each other’s ears. 

“How many guards?” 

“Three; two men, one woman,” Round Face says after a beat, looking up at him and letting out a tinkling laugh. Bakugou glances behind him, seeing their target a few meters away, and leans down to tuck his face into her neck. “They’re blocking the door though.” 

He rolls his eyes. “So, we go through the window.” 

He feels more than hears how Round Face sighs at that. “Do we really have to be so dramatic about it?” 

“S’not dramatic if you plan for it,” he grumbles back. “And it means we get out of here faster, so quit complaining.” 

“Didn’t you just get a lecture from Aizawa about minimizing property damage?” 

“Tch, you should know me by now.” He feels her fingers slipping into his suit jacket, palming the pistol tucked into his shoulder holster. “Don’t fuck it up, Round Face.” 

“Please. You should know me by now,” she parrots back smartly. He jerks at the quick pinch at his hip, shooting her a glare.

Unfortunately, after some twenty-odd missions, Bakugou does know her. It’s why he doesn’t even bother watching as she steps smoothly to his right, aims the gun, and shoots their target point blank in the back. Instead, he’s grabbing a chair that’s way heavier than he thought it’d be, and hurling it at one of the old, factory-sash windows in front of them. 

The sound of glass shattering covers the sound of the gunshot, and the confused screams give them just enough time to make their escape. Round Face grabs him by the hand, and they take a few loping steps before leaping out of the broken window into a conveniently planted garbage truck. There’s more screaming now, interspersed with shouts, and they both roll out of the garbage bed quickly before darting down the dark street towards the docks. 

He shoves his way through people gathered on the sidewalks, feet pounding on the pavement. Round Face is running barefoot, heels abandoned somewhere behind them, and he’s annoyed at the fact that she keeps up with him easily. 

“We’ve got company!” A glance over his shoulder reveals two of their target’s guards, sprinting down the street towards them, guns in hand. 

“Run faster, Round Face!” he bellows back, his eyes running over the sea of speedboats in the distance. He picks up his pace, adrenaline pumping through his veins as concrete shifts to wood planks beneath his feet. 

He trips over a stray mooring line as he jumps into a speedboat, nearly toppling into the water, but Round Face catches him by his belt and yanks him back just in time. He topples into the driver's seat and she climbs in after him, ignoring the spew of profanities spilling from his mouth as he rights himself. 

Round Face yanks up her dress for the extra gun tucked on the inside of her thigh. The expanse of skin, milky and smooth in the moonlight, is enticing enough for him to pause in appreciation for a moment – he mentally files the image away for later, before shoving back the clenching feeling in his gut to start hot-wiring the engine. 

“Any day now, Bakugou!” she warns, and a quick glance over his shoulder reveals Round Face with two pistols in hand, firing shots over the edge of the boat.

“Calm your tits, I’m tryin’!” He grimaces as he peers at the mess of wires, the darkness making the job twice as difficult, until the loud roar of the engine shakes the entire boat. “Fuck yeah.” 

It’s a half-baked job – he can’t tell which wires are rigged for the cooling system, so they’ve got about five minutes before he needs to sit down and hook things up properly – but it's good enough to get them out and buy some time. He slams his foot on the gas pedal, and within a minute, they’re jetting out into the harbor. 

Round Face fires off a few final shots at the two figures on the shoreline, before slumping into one of the seats.

“Damn, and those were new too,” she mutters, frowning at her dirty bare feet. She pulls her hair out of its messy updo, shaking the strands free and letting the wind tousle her hair. “Hey, Bakugou?”

“Hah?”

“You owe me a new pair of heels.”

─── ･｡ﾟ❁ﾟ｡･ ─── 

 [0039 _ 0419 _ Sicily]

Bakugou doesn’t know how long it’s been. All he knows is that he’s exhausted, his arms have gone numb from being tied up over his head, and he’s astutely aware that has a very low chance of getting himself out of here alive.

A rough, hacking laugh bubbles from his dry throat, one that is quickly cut short by another punch to his bruised, if not broken, ribs.

“I’m going to ask you one more time.” The gloved hand that grabs his face feels odd against his skin, and Bakugou has to bite back a wince at how the fingers dig into his welling cheek. “Where. Is. The. Drive?”

“Eat shit, fuckface,” he croaks, hoping that Round Face listened to him and got the hell out of dodge like she was supposed to. The backhand that hits him sends black spots dancing in his vision, and he spits out another mouthful of blood. “S’that all you’ve got?”

He hears a low murmur, his head ringing too loudly for him to properly focus on translating the foreign words, but what he does register is the cold press of a knife blade below his chin, tilting his hanging head back until he’s blearily looking into dark, vicious eyes.

“You should pray that your partner has a looser tongue.” Bakugou’s blood runs cold when a sharp smile grows across the man’s face. “It would be a pity to damage such a pretty face.”

He hears a low murmur of voices, and his attention is drawn to the side as a metal door scrapes open. His heart drops to the floor when he sees Round Face bracketed by four men, looking a little roughed up with blood dripping from a cut at her temple.

“Miss Uraraka,” the man says genially, and to Bakugou’s surprise, Round Face flinches in response. “I am delighted to hear that you’ve agreed to cooperate.” The knife at his neck is pulled away, but Bakugou turns his face, trying to catch the brunette's eye.

“Y-you promised to let him go if I gave you the drive.” Her voice is soft, trembling in a way that bellies fear. It’s completely out of character, and suspicion tickles the back of Bakugou's mind as the men take her timidness at face value. “I don’t want any trouble.”

“My dear, I gave you my word.” The cooed words feel slimy and disgusting, but she relaxes a little, her eyes darting over to Bakugou in worry. “He’s alive – well, mostly.”

“How do I know you’ll keep your promise?”

“You asked for no guns, yes?” Round Face keeps her act up, even as the man reaches out to touch her shoulder, caressing it in a gesture of comfort. “As promised – no guns. You do not have to fear me, lovely. I won’t hurt you.”

“Good to know.” Round Face’s posture straightens, her tremulous smile shifting to something darker. “Sorry, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to return the favor.”

Bakugou catches a reflective flash of metal before her hand darts out, burying the blade of a knife into the man’s trachea. The rest of the grunts in the room freeze, stunned as she yanks her arm back in a way that makes blood spray across her dirty tank top before leaping into action.

He’s seen Round Face in a few fights, but those had always been hand-to-hand. It’s the first time he’s seeing her use the trench knives she keeps tucked at her waist, and it feels an awful lot like a revelation.

She’s quick and brutal, alternating between strikes to the face and stomach between sloppy blocks and poorly coordinated attempts to stop her rampage. She uses their numbers to her advantage, separating her assailants until she takes down two, then three more, then another two, before someone manages to grab her wrists from behind.

Bakugou will never admit it, but his breath catches in his throat for just a split second. Then, Round Face taps her foot against the ground, and kicks the blade protruding from the heel of her boot into her attacker’s shin, and dives right back into the fray.

He’s sleep-deprived and starving and still reeling from the effects of the torture, and his head is throbbing to the point where he feels like it might explode. Still, Bakugou has never seen something as beautiful as the sight of his partner carving her way through about a dozen men in nothing more than a ratty top and baggy pants, a pair that he’s pretty sure belongs to him.  

It’s over in just a few minutes. Round Face doesn’t even bother wiping down her knives before cutting Bakugou loose, catching him in surprisingly strong arms as he collapses.

“Thought I told you to run,” he huffs, pins running up and down his arms as his blood starts working its way back into the limbs. Through his broken and bloodied nose, Round Face smells like sweat and iron and dirt, panting a little as she lowers them both to the ground.

“Did you really think I’d just leave you to die?” She gives him a scathing look even as she scans him up and down, cataloguing what she can about his injuries. Her touch is gentle as she ghosts over his cheek, worrying her bottom lip as her eyes dart over his face. “C’mon – let’s get out of here.”

If his body wasn’t currently screaming in excruciating pain, Bakugou thinks that he probably would’ve been inclined to say more. If his head wasn’t currently making the world spin like he was on the world’s worst carnival ride, he thinks that he probably would’ve given into the sudden, bizarre urge to kiss her.

Instead, he lets his head rest heavy in the crook of her shoulder as she piggybacks him out of the decrepit warehouse, and absently savors the warmth in his chest that burns, bold and bright.

─── ･｡ﾟ❁ﾟ｡･ ─── 

 [0044 _ 1108 _ Caracas]

He feels the metallic taste of blood explode in his mouth, the sensation jarring as he sneers. His attacker goes down after Bakugou plants his fist directly into the man's throat, the body crumpling, and he curses as he sees another round of goons round the corner.

“Such fuckin’ bullshit,” he grumbles, grabbing the briefcase and bolting. “Where the fuck are you, Round Face?!”

“I’ve been at the rendezvous point for the past ten minutes! Where the hell are you?!” Uraraka’s voice filters through the comms with a low snarl, and there’s a heavy thump that follows. “I just – God, can you not?!”  

“The fuck?”

“The creep’s got friends, they followed me!” He curses as he skids past a street vendor, ducking down a side alley. He can see Uraraka ahead, fighting off two assailants with just her fists, and she manages to knock one out only for another to grab her around the neck.

She’s gasping, clawing at the hand squeezing at her throat when Bakugou runs up, smashing the briefcase in his hand into the back of her attacker’s head. The man drops like a rock, and Bakugou doesn’t even waste a moment in grabbing Uraraka by the wrist and yanking her to her feet.  

“Hurry the fuck up!”

“You're the one who was late!” she yells, keeping pace as they ran towards the canals.

“Less talking, more running,” he shouts back.

They’re two blocks away from the docks when they’re cut off by three men who lunge at them out of fucking nowhere, knocking both of them off course. Bakugou hits the ground hard, Round Face letting out a quiet curse as she follows, and they both look up to see a bunch of goons quickly approaching.  

He counts the heads on instinct – five, ten, fifteen – before a rain of bullets has them scrambling behind a dumpster, taking cover. Bakugou snarls when a glance behind them shows nothing but a dead end, and it’s clear that they were driven into a trap.

“What’s the plan?” Uraraka shouts, and he doesn’t have to look over to know that she’s tense, ready to fight.

Bakugou knows that she lost both her guns in a shoot-out just hours earlier, and that she’s sitting on only a few knives. He has about half of the rounds left in either of his pistols, and unless they land a kill shot on every fucker heading their way, they’re not going to make it out alive.

… there’s an idea.

“Wanna make a bet, Cheeks?”” He tosses one pistol at her, and shoots her a smirk. He peeks around the dumpster, missing the startled look she gives him at the unfamiliar nickname. “Headshots only – the loser has to file all the paperwork for the next five missions alone.”

Brown eyes flicker to the mob converging at the mouth of the alley, and she tosses a grin back at him, sharp and full of teeth.

“Deal,” she bites out. Her hands are already going through the motions of checking the magazine, but he doesn’t miss the determined, fierce look on her face.

“Oh, in case you didn’t know,” she adds casually, the sly glint in her eye making something flutter uncomfortably in his stomach, “I was first in my class in sharpshooting.”

“Put your money where your mouth is,” he retorts. Without missing a beat, he takes aim and plants a bullet square in the forehead of one grunt, just as Uraraka does the same.

─── ･｡ﾟ❁ﾟ｡･ ─── 

 [0052 _ 0351 _ Dubai]

Bakugou sighs, head thumping against the wooden walls of the safehouse. His head is spinning, throat full of cotton – he hasn’t slept in nearly twenty-four hours, and all he wants to do is pass out.

He can’t though. He’s supposed to be watching Uraraka, who’s doing her best impression of a koala with her head resting on his chest. She looks dazed, staring up at him with a funny expression, and he mentally steels himself for another ridiculous fact pulled from the depths of her brain.

Unfortunately, instead of some random space fact or obscure trivia, she blurts out the very last thing he ever expects to hear from her.

“I haven’t had decent sex in months,” she says mournfully. It’s not the worst or the weirdest thing she’s said since getting hit by some weird truth serum, but for some reason, the admission has him shifting uncomfortably in his own skin. He knows himself enough to recognize the stirring feelings of interest, deep in his stomach.

He tells himself that he hates it.

He also knows, deep in his heart, that he really doesn’t.

Bakugou taps the comm-link in his ear, stolen from Uraraka after she’d become all loopy. “You sure there isn’t some antidote for this shit?”

“Positive.” Aizawa’s voice is as flat as ever, but Bakugou can hear the laughter hidden below the words. “It’s only an hour, problem child. You’ve got about half of that left.”

“Fuck me,” he mutters. Right now, thirty minutes sounds like an eternity.

He doesn’t know if he can sit here with Uraraka in his lap for that long without popping a boner, because she fits perfectly against him and he also hasn’t gotten laid in ages. And even though it’s been months since she’d saved him, the urge to kiss her hasn’t entirely gone away.

“Fuck you?” Uraraka looks up at him, cocking her head thoughtfully. “I don’t know. You look constipated all the time – that’s probably not a good thing in bed.”

He feels warmth flood his face, Aizawa’s snickers carry over the comms, loud and clear. “I’m a great fuck,” he snaps back heatedly, anger flaring when she doesn’t look the least bit convinced. “I am!”

“Uh huh.” He watches incredulously as she rolls her eyes, rubbing her face against his shirt. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Just a reminder: fraternization between agents while on the job is heavily discouraged.” Aizawa’s voice drawls in his ear. “Twenty-five minutes, now. Don’t get too comfortable, Bakugou.”

At that moment, he wants nothing more than to hurl himself into the sun. His body, however, doesn’t agree – Uraraka shifts, her hips rubbing against his crotch, and his abdomen involuntarily tightens in anticipation. “Fuck off.”

The words are directed at both his traitorous dick and Aizawa alike, but unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to have an effect on either of them. 

He sighs again, glancing down at Uraraka’s peaceful expression, and steadfastly ignores the quickening of his heartbeat as she snuggles deeper into him.

─── ･｡ﾟ❁ﾟ｡･ ─── 

 [0061 _ 2038 _ San Francisco]

When they both hear the faint thump of footsteps headed in their direction, both of them freeze. 

There aren’t any exits other than the door they used to sneak in, no places to hide either. The flash drive is already tucked into his jacket pocket, the computer wiped and everything rearranged to look untouched, but there is literally no reason for the two of them to be in a private office, tucked as far away from the party as possible. 

He’s already setting his shoulders, reaching for a gun and the heavy marble paperweight on the desk, when Uraraka suddenly grabs his hands. 

“I’m sorry,” she breathes, her face red for some reason. He doesn’t know what she’s apologizing for, but then she tosses one arm over her shoulder and shoves his other hand into the deep, open V-neck of her fancy pink gown. 

His mind goes blank. Bakugou doesn’t even register Uraraka yanking at his shirt and tie, the buttons going flying. All his brain can focus on is the heavy weight of her bare breast under his palm, smooth and warm and sitting perfectly within his hand. 

“Cheeks –?” 

She tugs him forward by his belt, foot nudging his calf, and he only really understands what she’s trying to do when she hikes a leg over his hip and kisses him. 

This is a bad idea. This is a horrible, monumentally bad idea - because Bakugou has been thinking about this since that time in Italy – but when Uraraka shyly licks at the seam of his lips, all rational thought just flies out of his head. 

He lets out a low groan, fingers digging into her hair and stepping closer to deepen the kiss. She lets out a startled squeak, and he takes the opportunity to flick his tongue into her mouth as he starts to knead at her breast, thumb instinctively running across her rapidly hardening nipple.

She tastes like the mojito she drank earlier, mint and lime and rum and sugar. He sucks at her bottom lip, savoring the warm slide of her tongue and the way her fingers are clenching the sides of his shirt – Uraraka is warm and plush and rubbing against him in a way that makes all the blood in his head shoot straight to his dick, and when he grinds into her, it pulls a desperate mewl from her throat. 

Bakugou doesn’t know when he backs her up into the desk, but she draws back just long enough to hop onto the polished surface, face flushed and eyes glassy and chest heaving. He has a split second of respite before she pulls him back in, arching her back and pressing her breast into his hand, and she lets out a throaty, loud moan. 

Faintly, he registers a man’s voice behind him, stuttering in surprise. “W-what the –?” 

Uraraka gasps, shying back suddenly and covering herself with her hands in a show of embarrassment. The action breaks Bakugou out of his lust-filled haze, and he leans close, trying to shield her from prying eyes. 

“Oi, what the fuck?!” He glares over his shoulder at a man he recognizes as Giran’s second in command. 

The man, Takeru or something, looks embarrassed, but also does a piss-poor job of pretending that he’s not staring. 

“Sorry, man,” he says, sounding a little envious as he eyes them, and Bakugou feels his hackles rising at the way the little bastard’s eyes linger on the open expanse of Uraraka’s thigh. “Didn’t mean to ruin the mood, but you ain’t really supposed to be back here.”

“I’m so sorry.” She slides off the desk, head hung in shame, and Bakugou reluctantly pulls himself away so she can readjust the neckline of her dress. “We got a little carried away –”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re leavin’,” he snaps with a growl. “C’mon, Cheeks.”

He grabs her by the wrist and shoves past the bastard. Takeru shouts something as they retreat down the hallway and head back to the party, but Bakugou doesn't give a single fuck about what that extra has to say.

All he can think of is her warm, smooth skin against his hand, the taste of rum and soft, slightly chapped lips. 

She pulls herself out of his grip, tucking his arm around the crook of her waist as they make a show of returning from an illicit sexual encounter. They’re both disheveled, Bakugou keeping up the act by letting his hands wander up her sides as he steers them towards the exit, and he lets Uraraka stammer out embarrassed apologies to anyone who happens to cross their path. 

He doesn’t bother with any niceties, nor does he care how rude he’s being as he steers Uraraka out into the cold night air and down the street. All he wants is an explanation.

When they’re far enough away, he tugs her into the shadowed entry of a building and doesn’t hesitate to push her up against the cool, rough brick.

“... Bakugou?”

“Shit.” He leans his forehead against the wall, right next to her ear, and Uraraka’s breath catches when he exhales heavily, breath ghosting over her ear. “What the hell was that?”

She shifts a little, clearing her throat. “Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable,” she says primly, and he pulls back with a huff, staring down at her. 

“Tch.” His nostrils flare at the sight of her swollen lips, hair mussed and the neckline of her gown lying crooked on either side of her sternum. “You kiss all your partners like that, or am I just special?” he asks, voice low, and her eyes shine, rich and molten in the dim light of the street.

“Just you,” she admits, and there’s a tiny smile tugging at one corner of her mouth. 

“I thought you were supposed to keep me in line or somethin’.” There’s a dare lurking behind that liquid gaze, and when she tilts her chin up in an unspoken challenge, he swallows. “Isn’t there some bullshit rule about not makin’ out with your mission partners?”

“While on the job,” she emphasizes, and at that he shuffles in, just a little closer. “And technically... we got the intel, right? So, mission accomplished.”  

She winks slyly, and he grins. “Well, I’m not gonna argue with that,” he says, and leans down to catch her lips in another kiss.

Uraraka inhales sharply, throwing her arms over his shoulders, and as she melts into him, Bakugou thinks that having a partner might not be such a bad thing after all.

[stardustlatteprince]

Seojun Yejun (Y’jun Nunh)

Seojun Yejun (Y’jun Nunh)

Tribe: Jun Nunh of the Jaguar Tribe.

Age: 23 years old

Sex: Male

Species: Miqo’te

Server: Mateus

Discord: STARDUSTRADIO#0001 please message me on here in regards to RP as my prefered method of contact!

Birthdate: 15th Sun of the 4th Umbral Moon

Current residence: Ul’dah

Business location: Kugane

Profession: Adventurer and farmer

Relationship status: Single

Positive traits; ambitious, charismatic, good-humored, motivated,  risk-taker, trustworthy.

Negative traits; arrogant, careless, lustful, quick-tempered, ruthless, possessive.

 Likes;

Good beer

Sunny days

Weaving

Family dinners with his parents

Discovering new things from taking risks

Flirting

Dislikes;

Rain

Sun Seeker culture and being compared to Nunhs

Savoury foods

Sleep

Losing

Rigid lifestyle and personalities

 Backstory;

He was the son of a Nunh. A terrible one at that. He abused the women and the weaker males within the tribe, was feral and showed no regard, was ruthless and was almost like he was possessed by a beast. He was only a child, nobody could ever blame him. He had no idea his father would launch at him like that. He caught his mother being beaten by his father and he couldn’t help but weakly cry out “Stop it.” His father expected to beat his son within an inch of his life, but instead didn’t expect his son to be holding a small hunting dagger behind his back. It’s Sun Seeker tradition that when a Nunh is defeated by another of the tribe that they take the title of Nunh. His mother refused to let this happen, to be a Nunh or to be punished by the tribe for the death of their Nunh.

She went to Ul’dah, scouting day and night, stalking any who gave off an air of wealth and kindness. She found a sweet Lala couple, kind, who shared with those less fortunate, who doted on those in need. She said he goodbyes to Jun and told him to patiently wait near the Lalafells home. Days had gone by and with his mother not returning and not knowing how to leave the city, he did what any child would do. He cried. 

As expected, the couple of Lalafells couldn’t ignore the soft cries of the young boy. One thing led to another and Miyuna Yejun and her husband Hifujun Yejun couldn’t bare to leave the boys side. So they adopted him as Seojun Yejun. Since then he has grown a happy and health life, getting to take advantage of all the finer things in life, living in good wealth and with the world at his fingertips.

 PLACE IN SOCIETY

financial: wealthy / moderate / poor / in poverty.

medical: fit / moderate / sickly / disabled / disadvantaged.

class or caste: upper / middle / working / slave / unsure.

education: qualified / unqualified / studying.

criminal record: yes, for major crimes / yes, for minor crimes / no.

FAMILY

married - happily / married - unhappily / engaged or betrothed / partnered / single / divorced / separated.

has a child or children / has no children / wants children.  

close with sibling(s) / not close with sibling(s) / has no siblings / sibling(s) is deceased.

orphaned / adopted / disowned / raised by birth parent(s).

TRAITS + TENDENCIES

extroverted / introverted / in between.

disorganized / organized / in between.

close minded / open-minded  / in between.

calm / anxious / in between.

disagreeable / agreeable / in between.

cautious / reckless / in between.

patient / impatient / in between.

outspoken / reserved / in between.

leader / follower / in between.

empathetic / unemphatic / in between.

optimistic / pessimistic / in between.

traditional / modern / in between.

hard-working / lazy / in between.

cultured / un-cultured / in between / unknown.

loyal / disloyal / unknown.

faithful / unfaithful / unknown.

BELIEFS:

monotheist / polytheist / atheist / agnostic.

belief in ghosts or spirits: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care.

belief in an afterlife: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care.

belief in reincarnation: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care.

belief in aliens: yes  / no / don’t know / don’t care.

religious: orthodox / liberal / in between / not religious.

philosophical: yes / no.

SEXUALITY + ROMANTIC INCLINATION

heterosexual / homosexual / bisexual / asexual / pansexual.

sex repulsed / sex neutral / sex favourable.

romance repulsed / romance neutral / romance favourable.

sexually: adventurous / experienced / naive / inexperienced / curious.

potential sexual partners: male / female / agender / other / none / all.

potential romantic partners: male / female / agender / other / none / all.

ABILITIES

combat skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none.

literacy skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

artistic skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

technical skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none.

HABITS

drinking alcohol: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

smoking: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

other narcotics: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

medicinal drugs: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

indulgent food: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

splurge spending: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

gambling: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

[2dfanficfreek]

Gemini | Saeyoung/Saeran (1-3)

Fandom: Mystic Messenger (Video Game) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: 707 | Choi Luciel/Main Character, Choi Saeran/Main Character Characters: Choi Saeran, choi saeyoung, Original Characters, Kim Yoosung, V | Kim Jihyun, Han Jumin, Kang Jaehee, Zen | Ryu Hyun, Original Character | Soraya, Original Character | Song Hyejin, Original Character | Song Hyesun Additional Tags: Childhood Trauma, Kidnapping, Illegal Activities, Family Drama, Hacking, Aftermath of Violence, Mental Anguish, Sex, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex

Summary: A story that takes place after V’s “Forgive” After Ending, Saeran and Saeyoung are working to reach a state of normalcy when they’re invited to a super secret society of twins who are also hackers. There, they meet and immediately fall for the Song twins, born just a few days after them, who happen to have a history similar to theirs. Eventually, they discover they are more connected than originally though, however these ladies are neck deep in a dangerous world they are trying to escape from. Will justice or love prevail, or can they finally coexist?

1

“Take me with you,” Yoosung begged him over the phone.

“Um… no.”

“I game!”

“What part of ‘secret club’ do you not understand?”

“How did you find out about it?”

“You have to be in the community… so to speak.”

“So they’re just not gamers?”

“No.”

“What are the other criteria?”

“I could tell you… but then I’d have to kill you.”

“I want to hang out with you guys. You have so much fun.”

“Of course we do, we’re the Choi twins. Gotta go. Study hard for at least thirty minutes before you log into LOLOL.”

“Whatever,” he sighed.

“Laterz,” he hung up after pulling into a parking space. He pulled down the visor of his car and checked his appearance, running his fingers through his shaggy red hair before adjusting his glasses. He grabbed his phone and stepped out of the car, locking it with a click of the dauber before stepping into an apartment building.

He knocked on the door of his twin brother and waited.

“Are we really doing this?” Saeran opened the door and sighed.

“What? A secret society of hackers who are twins. I mean… we’ve been chosen as part of the .0001%.”

He turned around and walked off, shaking his head. “How did we get invited?”

“Okay, that’s… a cool story,” he plopped down onto the sofa. “So, there’s this really cute gamer vlogger who goes by ‘Purple Fox’ and she’s really good. I’ve been watching her streams for a while, and I’ve played her a few times. She’s... really good.”

“How cute?” he lazily brought his eyes up to him.

“Cute enough for you to come with me,” he pulled out his phone and showed him.

He sighed before looking her over, her purple hair and violet eyes, cute sparkling purple headset with fox ears and full heart-shaped lips… “She’s definitely your type.”

“Right? And then… one day she had a special guest. Her twin…” he scrolled to the next picture to show him a nearly identical-looking woman, yet her hair was a soft violet and much longer. She had the same violet eyes but wore a black choker and bolder eyeliner. His eyes immediately fell to the nose piercing sparkling in the light of the monitor as a slight smile curled the edges of his lips. “Her gamer ID is ‘Emo Kitsune.’ So, I did some research…”

“Of course you did,” he crossed his arms.

“They’re good. It was hard to dig up much, but I did come across a code in one of her vlogs… ‘G∑⫙1∩1 J1∩⋈.’ She’s Gemini Jinx.”

His eyes widened. “No!”

“I stalked her online for a few nights before inviting her to a private chat. I told her that my twin and I were huge fans of her work.”

“She didn’t fall for that,” he laughed.

“Oh no. I immediately got hits on my flags. She tapped seven in less than a minute. She has a great setup.”

“She broke through the firewall in less than a minute?” he raised his eyebrows.

“It’s the fake one,” he frowned at him. “Who am I?”

“Who is she… really?”

“Now that… I haven’t found yet.”

He tilted his head to the side before walking off to his room.

Saeyoung burst into a bright grin before following him.

“Ah…” he growled while typing away on his computer. “No one knows her real name. She is good.”

“She either has close friends…”

“Or no friends,” he smirked.

“Anyway… she said this society gets together regularly to hang out with our own kind. The contract is signed by a bloody thumbprint and the last dude to breach the sacred seal of secrecy was never found.”

“Great, you’re pulling me into another cult,” he rolled his eyes.

“Seriously… if anything feels hinky, we’re out of there. I’m not getting that vibe, though.”

“Hyung,” he whined.

“They’re super cute… super smart… know how to keep secrets… speak our language…”

He glanced back down at the photo of Emo Fox and sighed before walking off to get ready.

2

The brothers stepped out of the luxury sports car and handed the keys off to the valet before strutting through the glass doors of the fancy building. They were met by a hostess, dressed in a fancy black dress. “Misters Choi, welcome,” she bowed as Saeran flashed his eyes to his brother. “Welcome to The Gathering. Please follow me to the Gate Keeper.”

Both were quiet as they entered an elevator and rode up to what seemed like the top floor. They stepped out to meet a man in a black suit.

“Misters Choi,” he bowed to them. “I am the Gate Keeper. Please carefully read over your contracts. If there are any questions, please ask.”

“What do these contracts entail?” Saeyoung spoke up.

“These are for tonight’s trial membership. Once you have met every member of the society, you will be voted in or declined. Either way, you will receive notification.”

Saeran sighed as he read over the contract, which was quite straightforward. It was purely a confidentiality contract with the only expectation of keeping silent the focus.

The twins met eyes and nodded before turning back to the Gate Keeper. They were each handed inkless fountain pens to prick their fingers and pressed their thumbs against the parchment.

“That’s dramatic,” Saeyoung smirked.

“I think it’s cool,” Saeran nodded while licking his thumb.

They were suddenly approached by a muscular man, his crisp, white oxford sleeves rolled up to reveal tattoos covering his skin. “Please follow me.”

Saeyoung stood a little taller and flexed his fists as Saeran looked away and laughed lowly. They were led to a wall and stopped. The man turned to a camera in the corner and nodded his head just before the wall broke away and opened to reveal a hidden elevator. They again followed the man onto the elevator and waited until they were lifted to an even higher level of the building. This time, they stepped out into the penthouse.

It looked like any other luxury penthouse in Korea, and probably was a bit bigger than Jumin’s to be honest.

Yet another hostess walked down a staircase in the same puffy black dress and clapped her hands together. “Welcome, gentlemen. Please enjoy yourselves.”

She led them up the stairs to a single door, guarded by a retinal scanner. She looked into the scanner and waited for the door to click before she opened it to reveal an enormous room, filled wall to wall with the highest of technology while Kpop blared from every corner.

“I feel like we just walked into Stark Tower,” Saeran mumbled.

“Or the Batcave,” Saeyoung followed.

“They’re here!”

They looked up to see the purple-haired beauty walk toward them. She was dressed in a purple hoodie and cut-off jean shorts.

“We are seriously overdressed,” Saeyoung laughed as his cheeks pinked up.

“No, we dress like that through the lobby. You can change,” she bowed to them. “Welcome to The Gathering. It’s a bit overwhelming at first but then you just start feeling like a badass when you can just scan your card.”

“Who’s place is this?”

“Introductions in due time… I’m Song Hyejin and my twin is in a death match of wits… but her name’s Hyesun. Follow me,” she led them to a bedroom. “You should find some comfy clothes in the closet. Come out to meet us when you’re ready.”

“You didn’t even ask our names” Saeyoung turned to her.

“No, I didn’t,” she tilted her head and smiled before leaving them alone.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Saeyoung turned to his brother. “I trust no one here.”

“Of course not, they’re all hackers,” Saeran watched him. “They shouldn’t trust us, either.”

“Valid point.”

“Hackers live in the dark for a reason,” he sighed. “Everyone here has a story as bad or worse than ours.”

“The question is… do we want to know?”

“I’m just trying to survive; this was your idea.”

“Then I shall take full responsibility,” he nodded. “Let’s just have fun.”

“I can do fun.”

.

They changed into jeans and hoodies and returned to find everyone sitting around a huge round table that was loaded with foods of every kind, from street food, to fried chicken, to healthy banchan.

“Welcome,” everyone rose to their feet and bowed to them, which they returned.

“I’m Lee Taeyong. My brother Taehyun and I began this as a club of like-minded people to let loose and relax without fear of being noticed. The last thing we need is the public finding out that two technology heirs are also hackers.”

Saeyoung recognized them as sons of a technology magnate; one was basically in the same boat as Jumin, the other known for being a playboy.

“As you can see, we have a lot of awesome toys,” Taehyun pointed to the holographic gaming system. “We are the beta testers for my father’s company, and a few others. Feedback is always welcome for improvement.”

“We believe in full disclosure,” Taeyong glanced at Saeran. “We need to be able to trust and protect everyone who enters this room.”

“I appreciate that,” Saeran agreed.

“I’m Hong Myungyi…”

“And I’m Hong Yunyi…”

“And we are heiresses to a communication magnate.”

“They are responsible for the internet blackout last spring after their uncle threatened to cut them off from the family,” the other members of the table chucked.

Both brothers recognized Yunyi from a popular Korean drama as well, but said nothing as they introductions continued.

“They are our planners… and we are security,” a younger gentlemen spoke up. “Ahn Kyungwon and my brother Kyungsoo, along with Na Seokjin and Seokjun… we’re all college students who were about to go down for a grade changing scandal, but Bora helped us out,” he nodded toward Hyejin.

She smiled at him before taking a drink of her water.

“We’re a little more than college students,” Seokjun interrupted. “I’m an actor, he’s an idol. Please keep your mouths shut because we can and will…”

“Manners,” Hyesun hissed at him.

“Sorry, Noona.”

“Aish,” Hyejin shook her head. “We’re in charge of recruitment. I’m a gaming vlogger and she owns a flower shop. If just for transparency… we’re the daughters of the former president… Park Gyunhye,” she ended in a mumble.

The Choi brothers froze in shock.

“Seriously?” Saeran stared at Hyesun.

“The twin daughters that were kidnapped when we were young? That was you?” Saeyoung’s mind whirled at the information.

“Yes. It is also the reason you’re here,” Hyejin met Saeyoung’s eyes. “I’ve known about you for years, from hacking my mother’s server. Your father is filth of the highest caliber.”

“Agreed.”

“Would you care to enlighten us?” Taeyong waited.

“Oh, uh… Choi Saeyoung and Saeran, illegitimate sons of the Prime Minister and best hackers in this room,” he ended smugly.

“Has everyone in here had at least one parent try to kill them?” Myungyi looked around while holding up her hand.

“So it seems you did deserve a place at this table after all,” Kyungsoo nodded to Taehyun.

Everyone relaxed as they began to eat and speak to one another.

3

Saeyoung drove toward his house and listened to the music as Saeran stared out the window. He watched his brother for a moment before speaking. “You did really well tonight.”

“It’s not too difficult when you meet people who belong to the same tribe.”

“True,” he smiled at him. “But what did you think about the girls?”

He raised his eyebrows as he rolled his eyes around for a moment. “Sphinx is too famous for her own good. She’s going to get in trouble.”

“You’re calling them by their gamer names?”

“That’s how we’ll see them online,” he shrugged his shoulders.

“True. What about her twin, Ladybug?”

“She’s out to carve a notch in her bedpost with everyone in the group. Every. One.”

“Now that you mention it…” he tilted his head. “She was hitting pretty hard on Emo Kitsune.”

He quieted as he turned back out to the traffic.

“So she’s the one you like?”

“We have… so much in common. Their mom and our dad are probably best friends.”

“I feel like they’re the female versions of us, but… there’s something else. Purple Fox feels… dangerous.”

“I think she’s overprotective of her sister.”

“I think we have some homework to do if we end up getting accepted.”

“I doubt that will be a problem. Landmine had stars in his eyes while talking to me. We just need to convince the Lee brothers that we have no intention on leading.”

“Who needs that kind of responsibility?” he sighed. “So… you stayin’ tonight?”

“Yeah. I have no desire to go home.”

“Hey,” he turned to him. “You’re doing really well, brother. I am… very proud of you.”

He nodded silently before looking up at him. “Thanks.”

.

“The new guys are interesting,” Hyesun spoke as HyeJin drove her tiny sportscar through the streets.

“Think about it… if they’re the sons of the Prime Minister, that makes their aunt our mom’s BFF and the entire reason for her imprisonment.”

“Our mom’s imprisonment is due to her greed and poor decision-making skills.”

She rolled her eyes and nodded her head in agreement. “I hope they know we’d never speak to their father.”

“I don’t think there’s enough trust for that.”

“There’s only one way to build trust.”

An evil smile spread across her face as she pressed down on the accelerator.

.

“Okay… I’m logged in,” Saeyoung took a sip of his soda as he waited for his brother to log into the computer across the room from him.

“I’m in,” Saeran plopped a chip into his mouth. “What server is this?”

“It’s a cute, fluffy little server that could possibly attract the attention of tiny little foxes,” he smirked as he typed away.

“Bro, are you really Fishstick?”

“Fishstick rocks,” he spoke while typing. “But seriously, Raven? He’s as old as Methuselah.”

“And still kicks ass,” he hissed.

“Okay, so…” the screen flickered.

“That was quick,” Saeran placed his headset on and turned to begin searching hacking codes from the game.

“It. Is. On,” Saeyoung did the same.

The sky of their game began glistening with purple glitter as the brothers burst into laughter.

“Where… are… you…” Saeran searched the playing field until he found Drift, who was coincidentally a purple fox. “Hello, Bora…”

“Where there’s one, there’s…” Saeyoung hummed until he found Brite Bomber. “I found Emo.”

“But… did you really?” her voice purred over the line.

“We decided that we didn’t get to hang much tonight, so… here we are. Let’s play,” Hyejin spoke.

“Let’s,” Saeyoung agreed. “But first… purple’s not really my color,” he pressed a button and turned the sky black, full of constellations.

“Ooh. Nice,” Hyesun purred.

“Question… are you going to play with us, or kill us?” Saeran asked.

“We will assist… but you probably shouldn’t trust us,” Hyejin spoke plainly.

“Truer words were never spoken,” Saeyoung chuckled.

“Your weapons cache is so pitiful… I got chu,” she tapped away on her computer as boss-killing weapons suddenly appeared in their inventories.

“That’s hot,” Saeyoung replied with a growl.

“I spotted a group to the Northeast and they’re coming in fast,” Saeran spoke as he took the game seriously.

“I’ve already spread landmines out in that direction to buy us time,” Hyesun spoke before breaking into a hard cough.

“Oh shit, I forgot to turn my phone back on…” Hyejin whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I could just… remember…” she sighed.

“Is everything okay over there?” Saeyoung asked.

“It will be in a sec. We’re good,” Hyejin sighed.

“I have no idea where I got so much steel to fortify the bunker, but thanks,” Saeran smirked.

“You’re welcome,” Hyesun cleared her throat.

Saeran suddenly had a flashback… a memory of the exact same thing happening to him… every time he was forced to drink the elixir…

“Bro, you good?” Saeyoung waited.

He shook his head and focused on the game. “I’m fine.”

“And lookie who we have here,” Hyejin giggled as Sphinx and Ladybug popped up on the screen.

“Foxes… I take it Hacker God and Traumatic Acid are our new recruits?” Yunyi asked.

“Shall we form an alliance?” Myungyi asked sweetly.

“Mmmm… I don’t feel like sharing,” Hyejin killed her with a shot to the head as Hyesun whacked Yunyi’s head off with a rainbow axe.

“DAMN!” the Choi twins yelled out at the same time.

“Do make sure they can’t get back in,” Hyesun purred.

“Yes, dongsaeng.”

“I’m scared…” Saeran mumbled.

“Yet a little turned on…” Saeyoung hummed. “I can’t help but wonder if this is your version of flirting.”

“Oh no… you’d know if I were flirting with you,” she giggled.

“Then I shall sit back and wait.”

The night ticked on as the two sets of twins fought against oppression for the good of humanity until the wee hours of morning. Saeran hid a yawn and took a drink soda as Saeyoung smirked at him.

“I think my little bro’s gonna pass out on his keyboard.”

“Yeah, I’m ready to call it too,” Hyesan yawned.

“It was fun, ladies.”

“It was a blast,” Hyejin giggled. “I have a meeting with Kraken and Cobra tomorrow to discuss your approval. Is there anything I should be aware of before batting for your entry?”

“You seem to know everything,” Saeyoung spoke directly. “My question is… is there anything we should know about you before accepting the invitation?”

The line went silent before Hyesun spoke up.

“I believe our family matters mirror yours and might even be connected,” Saeran spoke up.

“We should meet up and discuss our connections,” Hyejin suggested. “Can you meet us at the flower shop in the morning?”

“Where might that be?”

“We’ve given you enough information, you can figure it out,” Hyesun laughed at them.

“Fine. We’ll bring the coffee,” Saeyoung agreed.

“It would be helpful to speak before they open for business. See you then,” Hyejin logged off the server as Hyesun followed.

The brothers dropped their arms and relaxed back into their seat before spinning around in their chairs to face one another.

“Is that considered a date?” Saeran asked him.

“Probably not, but I’m gonna count it.”

“I’ll count it too, then,” he smiled at him.

[selectedhq]

anonymous  said  :  i've  been  stalking  this  rp  for  a  while  and  just  finally  sat  down  to  read  the  plot  and  IT'S  SET  IN  THE  GOOD  PLACE  MY  HEART  i'm  joining  in  .0001  seconds

ahhhh  !  to  say  i’m  excited  to  read  your  applications  is  an  understatement  !  i’ll  be  keeping  a  close  eye  on  that  inbox  ,  nonnie  !

[douchebagbrainwaves]

HERE'S WHAT I JUST REALIZED ABOUT SENSE

What's particularly dangerous for founders is the way they wait. Prestige is like a powerful magnet that warps even your beliefs about what you enjoy. I think, is which 52% they are. Google search I've found myself nostalgic for the old days, when Google was true to its own slightly aspy self. 1-n. And yet both have the same answer: 1/1-n. Both make it harder to become profitable. But the dictionaries are not doing a very good job.

Another thing that keeps people away from starting startups is the pool of potential founders. All we can do is encourage people to do unpleasant work, with money and prestige. There may be more pain in your own company, like Wozniak did.1 And it did not seem to be any sort of work I'd prefer? Occasionally the things adults made you do were fun, just as, occasionally, playing wasn't—for example, an eminent investor who would invest a lot, but will be easy to convince.2 Though it sounds slightly paradoxical, if you asked random people on the street if they'd like to do, if they could, is wait. You should always talk to investors serially, plus if you only talk to one investor at a time, they don't think of themselves that way.3 You have to be on a trajectory that leads to going public. Some are just too slow to become profitable. For them the right approach would be to hand the company over to a professional manager eventually, if they could find one who was good enough.

Don't reject an acceptable offer that would be the answer. Sometimes an investor will say yes, know what the timetable is for getting the money, because they're already running through that in their heads. Start by building a site for Harvard undergrads to stalk one another? Actually they've been told three lies: the stuff they've been taught to regard as work in school is not real work; grownup work is not your favorite thing to do, how good you are at taking orders, how much does that investment have to improve your average outcome for the company with the addition of some new person, then they're worth n such that i 1/1-n is 1.4 On the blunderometer, this episode ranks with IBM accepting a non-exclusive license for DOS.5 Treat investors as saying no till they unequivocally say yes, in the most literal sense, not news: there is nothing new in it. How much stock should you give him? Some investors are known for deciding quickly, and those are extra valuable early on.

It's the principle of a market economy. But although it's a mistake for investors to care about price, a significant number do. Of course, Internet startups are still only a fraction of the former. Then one of their parents introduced them to a small investment bank that offered to find funding for them to start their own, so they did. There probably are other fields where relentlessly resourceful is definitely not the recipe for getting people to give talks, write forewords, serve on committees, be department heads, and so on.6 A good running back is not merely that you'll spend too long on tedious stuff, it will rot your brain. Surely one had to force oneself to work on certain things. Don't try to look into the future because a the future is unpredictable, and indeed that the reason they have to decide quickly because you're running out of money and b they can spend their time how they want. In a sufficiently connected and unpredictable world, you can't seem to get those by hiring them. The least ambitious way of approaching the problem is to start from the other end, and offer programmers more parallelizable Lego blocks to build programs out of, like Hadoop and MapReduce. There is a similar social component to the transformation that began in Silicon Valley and common in a handful of founders who could pull that off without having VCs laugh in their faces.

It's not hard to express the quality we're looking for, that leads to other questions.7 Which is not to sell more than 25% in phase 2. An investor, the thought of our investors used to keep me up at night. In most startups, nearly all the costs are a function of the situation and the people involved.8 In fact, what I like about publishing online is that you can write what you want to know whether you're about to plow through a block of foam or granite. Prestige is like a powerful magnet that warps even your beliefs about what you want till your thirties or forties. As societies get richer, they learn something about work that's a lot like what they do.9

Notes

These range from make-believe, which usually revealed more than make them want you to behave like adults. But politicians know the electoral vote decides the election, so they made much of it.

This is why I haven't released Arc. Siegel points out that another way to avoid faces, precisely because they believe they do on the side of the leading scholars in the nature of the growth is valuable, because the rich have better opportunities for education. What I should add that we're not professional negotiators and can negotiate on the software business. We have to talk to corp dev people are like, and astronomy.

0001.

You'll be lucky if fundraising feels pleasant enough to turn down some good proposals too. I was living in a world with antibiotics or air travel or an acquisition for more of it, and on the other cheek skirts the issue; the point of view: either an IPO.

If you want to.

The situation is analogous to the minimum you need to offer especially large rewards to get as deeply into subjects as I explain later.

I overstated the case, because some schools work hard to say that YC's most successful founders is by calibrating their ambitions, because despite some progress in the country would buy one.

The golden age of tax avoidance. It's like the other hand, they say. Bullshit, Princeton University Press, 1983. Writing college textbooks are similarly misleading.

VCs. Big technology companies. He was off by only about 2% of the things I find hardest to get endless grief for classifying religion as well.