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ybklix · 5 months

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𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲

dear lord, when i get to heaven, please let me bring my man (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ fr omg

★ pairing: idol!lee felix x fem!reader

✦summary: You got your dream job on one of the most important day for fashion industry, everything seems like a fairy tale, until you meet one of the people you are working for, which complicates your thoughts, a guy with an angelic face, however he is for you the devil wearing custom couture Tommy Hilfiger.

✭ content - tags - warnings: smut / one night stand / use of “y/n”/ handjob / oral sex / soft degrading / dom felix / semi public sex / unprotected sex / etc lol

word count: 5.1k

(masterlist)

♡ notes: 2024 felix at the met gala ♡

a/n: had to write smth ab my man looking this good on a big day, oopsies / all fiction, don't really know how's behind scenes lol / i'm watching the series so i'm romanticizing the carrie type of writing, enjoy!

There’s an old saying… “what happens in Vegas, stay in Vegas”, and for the New Yorkers with enough amount of luck, the equivalent of that would be: “what happens in the Met Gala, stays in the Met gala.”

You either had to be a celebrity with high status, or a very wealthy person… or sometimes, just part of the staff; yes you were in last link, but you were still happy.

There you were, on the first Monday of May, standing outside of the iconic decorated stairs of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, on the also iconic, 5th avenue of East side of Manhattan. Living your dream, because this year, you were inside, and not anymore as a viewer.

Life was going great for you, you’ll graduate from college exactly in nine days, and you were booked as a tour guide in the Met Gala a month ago. It was your dream job, even though you majored in journalism, working for Vogue was always your dream to be, you’ve been applying for the Met ever since you turned eighteen, and finally there you were wearing a vintage YSL black dress, from a vintage store in Soho, whose rent costs more than you apartment’s, with some Manolo shoes, living your little Carrie Bradshaw fantasy. But that didn’t matter, yeah, she was a woman with a steady job and you only a freshly graduated who expected to get hired as soon as you get your diploma.

They prepared you the whole past month, and you picked up your ID last week; this was going to look wonderful in your resume. You loved fashion, arts, writing, you didn’t care there was another 500 people doing exactly the same as you, you were there, living inside your bubble of the gossip girl and devil wears Prada vibes.

A lot of people hated New York; but you never could, you had a nice apartment on west side of Manhattan and an incredible fashion taste. You had to work as a staff for one the most emerging kpop groups, Stray Kids, or at least that’s what you read about online, you did your research: eight male members, only two of them fluent in English and the rest of them just shy to speak it out loud… you weren’t that unfamiliar at all, you recognized kpop is one of the greatest genres these days, but you were twenty one and going through your finals as the provided you that information, so you followed their social medias, caught up a little in their updates, learned their names and faces —which was very important—, but couldn’t fully concentrate in how handsome they were or at least get yourself a little of fangirlism. Once again, you were sinking in the lasts and very important moments of college.

So the thing was simple, they usually bring their own people around but for this event was the exception, once they stepped on the radar of these popular stairs, they were under the Met Gala staff, that’s when you get in.

You were waiting for them standing among the group of people who would be working the same as you, all with their dress code in black-only etiquette, to go unnoticed. It was your first Met Gala, although you didn't want to flatter yourself either in such a big way, but you had chosen a sexy dress with your back uncovered, you wanted simplicity, but not too much. The heels were starting to bother you a bit until, as fate would have it, a stout black man in charge of monitoring, with headphones on his bald head and clipboard in his hand shouted in a strong New York accent to the group of people you were in.

“The following celebrities are Stray Kids, I repeat so you can listen in the back, Stray Kids is coming! Their team step up to lead them in.”

Nerves got the better of you, it was your turn; you had seen your other ‘colleagues’ guide their respective assigned celebrities, so now it was your time. You hurried to the entrance, along with another girl and two other men. The large black van pulled up to sidewalk and finally, just as you had researched, eight pretty East Asian looking men exited one by one.

You tried to identify the one you had previously studied as their leader and one of the English speakers, until he finally emerged just to one side of you.

“It's this way, boys” your coworker, who was a little ahead of you, led the way.

The eight of them walked a bit and met their designer, the legitimate Tommy Hilfiger, while among the chaos of noise and nerves you tried to identify each one you were working for; they were all wearing long coats but you could distinguish that it was just to hide their real attire.

But apparently you were not the only one nervous, it was also their first Met Gala, an incredibly big event, a bit out of what they knew, in one of the countries where the music market was of utmost importance to consider and succeed, each one of them recognized that this was an important day and simply one more step in their artistic career. They were all nervous and excited; but even so you noticed a somewhat monotonous expression on each of them, you thought it was just nerves. You got a good look at them all as they talked to their designer in charge and noticed how each one had their own charm, they were attractive and smelled quite nice. You thought about how much fun this job is for you, being around celebrities.

“And y/n, right?” he came up to you, the man who had previously been giving directions to your boys.

You nodded, confused, he went on to say:

“I’m informed that you will be going into the museum with them, you can take the lead” he said in a strangely kind tone.

You smiled at him, you had forgotten the last time you met a nice New Yorker. It was when you realized it was time, you took a breath with your cheeks and released them, once you saw they finished their little talk, you took a step so everyone could see you and introduced yourself; it was part of your job and you had been trained for it. You started with a “hi, guys”, told them your name and added that you would accompany them to the exhibit. You looked forward to going in there.

You got the attention of all eight of them, after all they were still men, foreign men excited for a new experience. Once you turned around as you led the way you questioned if wearing that open back dress was the best choice, you hadn't really intended it that way; you also didn't expect them all to be 100 times more attractive in person, the pictures you saw on the internet didn't do them justice.

All the members of Stray Kids were with their respective emotions on edge, but especially one of them didn't know how to control himself. Felix, who at all times kept a serious countenance was more than excited and his body was reacting to it, betraying him, he was aroused. He wasn't exactly in the mood for sex, but somehow he felt uncomfortably hard. He was simply an excited little Asian boy with a not-so-little problem. An erection in his pants.

Felix had the experience at these kinds of fashion events, but simply something about this city drove him incredibly crazy. Somehow he was thirsty for sex… but he didn't feel like he was at this very moment. He had to put on his best show and control his body, he slyly checked his pants and it was a relief that the design was perfectly loose so it couldn't be noticed. But it all got worse when he saw his pretty young guide and staff for tonight, with her pretty makeup and perfect hair done, with her back uncovered.

Felix read her name on her ID hanging on her body and checked slyly if anyone else of his friends and colleagues thought the same as him… he could notice it in the look of his friend Bang Chan, however Felix noticed the little importance that Chan himself gave her and continued treating her with kindness and courtesy, who from time to time gave her a certain look was his other friend Seungmin, who was the master of disguise, but not for Felix, not after knowing him so long and living with him.

But that was just the thrill of the moment, as Felix took full control of his body as he approached his final stretch, an interview and then the longed-for Met Gala stairs. Like a pro idol, he knew how to handle it, and everyone had a spectacular and memorable entrance.

You saw them from afar, Bang Chan had introduced you to each one of them and thanked you for accompanying them even though you hadn’t start yet, you thought he was an unreal man, in fact all eight of them were, their perfectly manicured faces and the subtlety of their make-up were to you so…. You were speechless; but if you had to choose one, putting yourself in the shoes of millions of girls around the world even of your age discovering an attractive boy band, maybe among them all… it would be the only blond guy with long hair. You thought between sighs how cute he was, you were down bad when it came to cute boys, also the long-haired ones.

You remembered his name, Felix; a little strange, it sounded like an old name but somehow it fit him so well, you thought; now you were not only fulfilling your dream job, you would be together with eight handsome men, you almost wanted to let out a little giggle, but it was time to monitor how well they took the pictures of your “bosses” as they posed on the carpet.

You waited a moment more before finally entering, it seemed like hours, until finally the doors opened for you and there suddenly you felt your heart burst, not even Felix's pretty face could have impacted you so much, the exhibition of unique pieces in the haute couture of fashion history.

“You can start to separate and see freely” you mentioned to them.

You saw them, they looked totally lost.

“Mm, I don't think so, we like to stay together” Chan answered with a nervous smile.

“Well, if you like, we can start here…” you spoke.

You didn't want to keep them tied up nor did you want to feel like a big deal, you were only going to accompany them and follow their instructions, however they seemed to follow yours; you gave yourself the task of showing them every corner and giving them a little summary of what each exhibit meant, however you couldn't help hiding your excitement, your eyes shone with care and all eight noticed your adorable expression, even those who couldn't fully understand you because of the language barrier, your expressions spoke for themselves. And Felix couldn't take his eyes off you the whole tour.

Felix didn't understand what was wrong with him, whether it was the excitement of the foreigner, the significant change of time zone, his pretty part of the assigned staff, or the incredible urge to have sex. He wasn't normally like that… well, at least not in places like these. He left the dirty thoughts for later when he was in the quiet of solitude. But just now he had those thoughts of how hot it must be to be fucking someone while wearing that perfectly tailored suit, making a mess among all the tidiness that went with it all.

He wasn't like that… but the more he thought about it, the more he was tempted, he thought it would be the only time he would see you, that you had to be professional and not at all indiscreet, that it would only be one night. He was becoming more and more convinced, what was wrong with him? He was handsome, young, successful and very well endowed, he only needed to show his gifts to someone. Felix thought if that someone could be you; this was not Felix who thinks dating and love were important, suddenly something came over him, like a haughty alter ego blinded by his dazzling fame, ready to just have sex.

The main event started, the dinner and the show, you had gotten a table, only confirmed by the exclusively selected staff in perhaps, one of the worst areas, still you were in, from going to see the Met outside on the street, to being seated next to a bunch of celebrities in the same room; you were so happy you could die the next day thinking you made it.

But once the show was over, little by little so was your spark, it was time to go back to your reality and take a cab home; the folks at that table were mentioning something about an after party, among them and a bunch more… but you didn't want the smell of celebrities and fame to leave your pores and get lost in some stranger's apartment.

You were about to check out when a short woman rushes up to you asking if there was any Stray Kids staff at the table.

“Here, me!” you showed her your ID quizzically. “What's going on?”

“What are you doing here? They're escorting you to the after party.”

Puzzled, you mumbled a “what?” and followed her hurried pace as she was leaving.

“After party, with who?”

The woman stopped in her tracks and turned to look at you.

“Well, who are you working for.”

Impossible, you thought. You were supposed to check out and you weren't allowed to go outside the museum, they couldn't just invite you like that, could they? Why would they? Besides you were working for the museum, not for them. Sadly, you had to make it clear to them.

You walked towards them who were already at the main exit leaving with other celebrities, you got up the courage and approached them.

“Nice to meet you guys, but I think it was a misunderstanding, I can't accompany you, I work for the museum… they didn't give me directions to follow you.”

“And what time do you leave?” Chan asked you with a hoarse voice and eyes fixed on you.

“Just now…” you added awkwardly, not knowing what to say as the eight men stared at you.

“Perfect” Chan said in a thick accent with a smile.

“Now you work for us, let's go to the after party” spoke in a cold, distant and arrogant tone the pretty blond boy who had caught your attention.

You had not heard him speak, not until now. You were too surprised by the contrast of his angelic face and his incredibly thick voice.

You were able to register your exit and hurriedly kept up with the boys.

“We liked the way you explained the exhibition, we will have you as translator now” Chan told you as he quickened his pace leaving you behind.

It didn't make the slightest sense what he just said. You don't even speak Korean.

You sighed and could not deny the excitement of living another adventure, it was not like they were forcing you, you were now going to go to the legendary Met Gala after party.

You got into a dark van along with more of their staff and in the minutes of traffic you were finally there. You couldn't believe it, for a moment you stopped thinking that things made sense.

Luckily you were not alone, but accompanied by another girl in the staff, all looked great but it was evident that no one wanted to socialize with you and it was difficult for you to do so; so you felt uncomfortable and out of place, questioning if you should really be there.

After a few minutes you noticed that Felix stood up from his seat, taking the button of his suit and slyly approached you.

“Can you come with me?” he whispered in your ear with his deep voice.

You froze, and followed him without thinking too much, something wasn't right when it came to him…. besides, you thought you had to follow his instructions.

Felix went to a private bathroom, you wanted to think that maybe he wanted you to take care of his coat… if not, why else would he ask you to accompany him; he entered quickly, in a suspicious way and then came out quickly looking around frantically, until he pulled you by the arm and took you with him to that small elegant bathroom, locking the door. You couldn't process the speed of the actions and suddenly, you saw his piercing gaze in front of yours.

What was going on?

Felix had enough, watching you flirtatiously talking to Chan, sweet talking all his friends, there was nothing else to explain but that he was horny and wanted to have you right now. You weren't stupid, you noticed his looks but wanted to ignore them, but it turns out that wasn't what he wanted.

So there you were, inwardly struggling whether to play along with whatever he intended to do or put your ethics above… you analyzed him, he looked so good with his long hair and white suit, you'd probably never see him again, you wanted to bite your lip just thinking about how dangerous and fast-paced some kind of sex like that would be, on the sly. But you couldn't make up your mind, this was about Conde Nast, your dream, not easy access to fuck.

Felix noticed too the early darkness in your gaze, reflecting lust, he was already hard from just thinking about your ass slapping his pelvis as he thrust his cock in and out your pussy mercilessly. You so wet, making a mess, the two of you indulging in passion while a bunch of people decide to party outside.

“I don't normally do this but… I may only see you once in my life…”

Felix said in a voice thicker than what you had heard and came dangerously close to you, who were glued to the door, perplexed.

“Felix…” you wanted to think clearly but his full lips in a perfect heart shape were distracting you.

“If you want to fuck me… you have to promise me to never tell anyone.”

Felix whispered plaintiff in your left ear, losing himself in the scent of you hair. You couldn't take it anymore, if he kept talking, you might cum at any moment.

You understood the situation of things and the importance of his comment, after all he was still a global superstar. But not telling would not only be a beautiful secret to take to your grave and something fun to remember, but it would also be beneficial for you, because under no circumstances should a female employee have sex with her assigned celebrity. You would be banned from all of Manhattan or the city if possible, public enemy number one.

He moved closer to your ear, thinly brushing his lips on it and making you lose control little by little by his approach. You closed your eyes, completely lost, fuck it, you would fuck him and never see him again, at least not this intimacy.

“Why would I fuck and tell...?” you whispered completely lost in desire.

He chuckled, and finally grabbed you by the waist. Felix sought your lips and you kissed slowly, deeply and passionately, the kiss was so strong that you felt the pressure of his upturned nose on your face. You knew it was so wrong at any angle analyzed… but it felt so right, his lips were soft and he moved them with agility, your hands were still glued to the wall in surprise, but gradually you relaxed and managed to hold on to the ends of his jacket.

Felix also relaxed and his right hand moved down to your naked back and slowly and nimbly he moved his hand in until he squeezed and caressed your ass, his actions surprised you that you almost moaned at the touch, separating you a little from the kiss.

He pulled a few inches away from your lips and, as he ran his hand all around your ass, he looked you over with a look of superiority.

“You're such a slut, only wearing a fucking thong, almost like you were ready for me” he said with a husky voice.

This time you felt his noticeable bulge brush against your belly and his soft touch made you wetter and wetter.

“Get on your knees, beautiful.”

He ordered and you obeyed. Felix was sick of feeling horny, he wanted a quick fix, to strip the tight garments off his cock and be attended to urgently, once he had enough of his own, he was going to take over pleasuring you fully.

Your breath was getting shorter and shorter and you felt his member on the fabric, you thought about how good he looked from below and in all possible angles, then you pulled down his pants, ready to give him the best blowjob ever —or at least you hoped so—, you couldn't resist, you simply pulled down his underwear too, finding his throbbing and delicious cock so needy, its tip was bright pink and poor Felix was already showing signs of small droplets of pre-seminal fluid, and to think he had a fine and angelic face…. You had never felt so hungry and desirous, you were totally possessed; you wanted it in your hands, in your mouth, pounding your face, pounding your cervix… so you felt it, that firm hard manly hunk, at the mercy of your hands, feeling every texture of his skin.

Felix gasped, lifting his buttoned shirt a little, revealing a bit of his smooth but working abdomen. You took some of his fluid and spread it all over his length, lubricating it, it felt so good, but you were also so needy and desperate, and the thin fabric covering your intimate area didn't help at all, you felt the garment getting smaller and smaller, you felt your wet pussy growing and throbbing causing a delicious friction; but you thought you had to be more careful, your whole outfit was black, one stain of semen or fluids and you had to pay for the dress.

You moved a little away from him, hoping that no droplets of him fell on your attire, still you held his erection tightly with your left hand, making frantic movements, back and forth.

He was ecstatic, it was all he needed, to be sexually attended to; the New York air suited Felix Lee wonderfully, and the New York girl… he thought… she was out of this world, her hands felt fantastic on his hard manhood. He wanted to cum roughly, but he wanted to do it dirty in his employee's mouth and pretty face… he would never act like the beastly thing he was doing in Seoul, but new place, try new things.

So between sighs and gasps, he lowered his gaze and tried to communicate with her.

“Use your pretty mouth.”

You never thought he was going to ask, you didn't hesitate for a second, and the grotesque sound of your saliva dripping on his cock were heavenly; his sex was hot and smooth, the texture felt so good inside your cheeks but once again, you are desperate for him to take you and start moving your guts.

Within minutes, Felix cum in your mouth amid moans and groans, and the softest but most effective hair pulls, to make you go exquisitely deeper. You never thought he was so vocal, with a voice like that, you were in heaven; and it took you only a few seconds to drink his cum, as a reward.

“I think we need to get rid of that dress” he said trying to catch his breath. “I'll buy you 3 more, no worries.”

He took you by the chin, inviting you to stand up and helped you take off the dress, you were so excited that your vision was blurred and you couldn't think clearly… what was his next move….

You were amazed at how incredibly hard and standing still he was even after he had just cum, you thought, after all kpop idols did have it all, great stage presence, big penis, music talent, and for sex too.

He sat you on the small counter, him facing the mirror, the stone was cold and you were finally, almost, completely naked in front of him, wearing only your thin thong. Felix wasted no time and positioned himself between your legs, kissing you deeply and desperately as you carefully felt the tip of his penis brush your wet center each time they came closer, he moved his kisses down, to your neck, massaged your breasts and kissed and sucked them mercilessly, you wanted to scream with excitement but you were acutely aware that there were people outside, never mind the noise of the party. Once on your chest, he turned his angelic face up, with a dark mischievous look and that's when you felt his thumb caress your clit.

You moaned in relief, finally your exhausted pussy was going to be given attention. His movements were slow until each time he increased the acceleration, you couldn't help but writhe in pleasure and when your body contracted ready to climax, Felix introduced his fingers inside you, he felt the softness of your insides so lubricated and ready to feel his erection beating you frantically.

“Look at me” he asked once he saw that your attention was focused for a few seconds on his right hand playing with your pussy.

“Uh-mm” you murmured, nodding softly, almost in moans.

You weren't thinking clearly but decided to hold back the urge to cum just to feel his fingers inside you for a few more moments. You looked into his big dark eyes; you felt that he looked more calm and serious with that gaze locked on you and his innocent freckled look, unlike you that your eyes was totally submissive and you were almost about to cry with pleasure, oh and Felix loved that, all that mess because of him.

“I'm going to cum, Fe…” you moaned.

But you couldn't even speak, he accelerated his movements and your belly contracted so pleasantly bringing you to your first orgasm.

“I'm not done yet; let me clean up that mess you made.”

And without warning, Felix leaned down, gripping your thighs tightly, two of his fingers still freshly wet from my fluids, marked on your thigh; Felix ran his hot tongue across your cunt, licking all your cum.

He began to eat your pussy carefully, almost accomplishing step by step and you loved the delicacy of what he was doing, you were seeing stars, you didn't want this to ever end, you wanted him on you all the time. You took advantage and also took hold of his tightly tied hair. He did it so well that you had to cum a second time.

And finally, the act you both had been waiting for since he locked the door; Felix had saved the urge and was once again swollen and throbbing, screaming for attention and action. He cleaned the edges of his mouth in a attractive manner.

“Shit, I don't have a condom” he said in annoyance.

“It's okay, I'd never have your baby anyway.”

Felix smiled and you watched his erection in front of your pussy, until he gently pushed it in, until you closed your eyes once again in pleasure.

“I'm going to cum inside you and make sure your pussy misses every part of me.”

Felix whispered hotly in your right ear as you pressed your bodies closer and closer together, until you ended up with your legs wrapped around his waist, crushing bit of his outfit, and your hands on his shoulders. And then, he rammed you fast and as delicious as no one else had ever done, you moaned softly to avoid any strange noises from outside. It was incredible, you thought, his rhythm was strong and constant and when you began to lubricate his penis more indicating your soon orgasm, Felix separated from you and in quick movements he changed your position, lowered you from the counter, turned your body and introduced his penis making you stand still and making you both see yourselves in the mirror.

You couldn't be happier, you loved the fiction of his shirts stuck to your body of the clothes he still had on, and he began to pound more frantically and wildly, giving way to the sound of your skins colliding and your fluids combining. Felix held you tightly by the waist as he pulled your body away and closer, controlling it in his own way, you wanted to help him, moving your ass a little but his grip was too strong. You were with your back arched, holding tightly to the sink, giving choked moans as you felt his strong thrusts. Watching him fuck you in the mirror was fucking hot, he looked so attractive with his half-open mouth letting out soft moans and his concentrated countenance, frowning and his eyes locked on your ass, then on you.

Felix grabbed your hair in his fist and pulled it to pull you closer to him and glued you to his body, just when you thought it couldn't get any better, his thrusts were deeper that way and you were touching the edge.

“Do you like the way I fuck you, little slut, huh?”

You tried to nod between gripping your hair.

“Say it.”

“Yes-yes, Felix, ahh it feels good.”

“You feel good too, sweetheart, you're doing a great job.”

His dirty talk close to your ear were just more elements to make you cum faster and faster and each time you were more and more surprised, as his pace increased, finally making you climax, for the third time.

Felix smiled in victory as he felt your pussy muscles first tighten and then relax releasing more of your luscious fluids, wetting and hugging his hard cock, Felix continued another small moment, until he cum gloriously inside you and a little more above your ass.

You were perplexed. The sexual connection had been real. You both tried to catch your breath, he helped you put your dress back on and as you changed, Felix felt a little bad about just using you for his carnal desires, for you honestly it had been just a good fuck and you had your feet on the ground being aware that someone like him and you could never be together.

“So… Are you officially working on something related for Vogue?”

You smiled, as you tried to touch up your makeup, it was a bit badly retouched.

“No, it's my dream, they just hired me as a one-off for this year.”

“Maybe you should learn Korean and move there, Vogue Korea is still Vogue, isn't it?” he mentioned flirtatiously.

You chuckled again, that implied many things and at the same time none for you.

“Go out first, y/n, then I'll go out. I'll transfer you for the dresses outside, I don't even have my phone here” he said, finally in his deep voice calmer, almost looking tender, in his thick accent.

You smiled and looked at him one last time, before finally leaving for the party. Leaving you wanting more, but also with nothing more than just sex in the city.

#lee felix smut #skz smut #felix smut #stray kids smut #felix x reader #felix x you #lee felix x reader #kpop smut #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids #skz #skz felix #felix hard thoughts #𐙚wen writes♡₊˚⊹

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inkskinned · 1 year

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it is totally okay to be hurt and tired and fed up with the american schooling system but i need you to understand that we need to be better about loudly and routinely defending public education.

yes, many teachers suck, many schools utterly suck. i also got bullied and was absolutely not given the right support for my needs. i am not defending public education because it was kind to me. i am defending it because it needs to exist.

right-wing republicans do not want an educated population. they want kids to be homeschooled or in private school. there is a huge religious undertone to this.

the most common argument is that despite high costs, the "result" is not "good" enough. they point to failing schools as proof that public education is just never going to work out. there will be arguments made here that you actually agree with: that teachers can be bullies, that we taught online for 2 years and still charged the same amount of tuition, that we have no recourse for students to actually have agency or a voice, and that schools are now unsafe for kids due to risk of illness and gun violence.

these are all placing the blame in a fraudulent way, one intended to get your parents to homeschool you. the less kids in a school, the less federally-awarded funding for that school, the less any school succeeds. they will not mention the fact it is their legislation that takes away important funding opportunities, that teachers are living at or below the poverty line, that buildings are not kept up to code, that administration is overpaid and forces specific curriculums, that corporations like (my personal enemy) Pearson Education control certain classroom goals because teachers can't afford other options. they pretend to be ignorant of the gun violence and say "oh just get a gun" - but these are the same people who will be sending their child to a private school with a bulletproof backpack. they don't care if your kid dies, though. they "don't believe" in covid, but they did get their kid vaccinated, because of course they did.

it is a closed loop. conservative parents hear the fearmongering and remove children from the system. frequently these parents are also deeply religious. the kids are raised without access to other media & learn to parrot their parents. you have now created a new generation of conservatives. additionally, one of the parents/caregivers must stay home and homeschool the children, usually for free. i will give you 1 guess which parent tends to stay home to homeschool the children. these parents are encouraged to have many, many children. those children are most likely not getting access to safe sex ed.

we might laugh at fox news suggesting teachers are forcing children to use kitty litter but: first of all, there is kitty litter in the classroom. it's part of an emergency kit in case children are locked in due to a shooter. so that's fucking dystopian, and the fact they've completely reimagined the scenario to somehow make the teachers look bad when it's instead a fucking huge symbol of our failure as a country to protect our children.... it feels a little intentional.

secondly: don't just dismiss the situation. because, yeah, obviously, no teacher is encouraging kids to be a catboy. but the actual undertone that fox news is trying to sew is an outright distrust of teachers and of public education. they rely on the dehumanization of trans people as a common touchstone to hide the fact they're pushing two agendas at once. (which is ironic. because the thing they accuse teachers of. is pushing. an agenda.)

whenever someone tells you they want you to read less, you should be suspicious of that. when someone tries to separate you and your education, you should be suspicious of that. i don't even like incel rhetoric nor would i want my kids exposed to it - but i would not take away my child's (age-appropriate) access to the internet. i would just provide more educational materials, not less. the difference here is that i believe we can resolve ignorance with knowledge; whereas conservatives believe that ignorance is bliss.

they misappropriate funding and demonize teachers. they pull the same trick each time - the same thing we are seeing with anti-trans rhetoric. they do not want you to have access to safe sex ed, so they act horrified, claim sex ed teaches you how to thrust deep, claim that we have no idea what "age-appropriate" means. since the mid-nineties, the united states has spent at least 2 billion dollars on abstinence-only education, even though to quote the above link: "a preponderance of studies has found no effect of abstinence education at reducing adolescent pregnancy". conservatives want you to think less of any person struggling with addiction so they can continue their racist "war on drugs", so they spend up to $750 million dollars a year on the DARE program which has absolutely no effect. acting like teachers "must" be "grooming" children is just the same thing - so they can demand that funding either goes to their causes or the funding doesn't "exist" ("i'm not paying for our kids to learn that thing!")

and they want you to feel uncaring about this. they are aware that you will hate some parts of your school experience. pretty much everyone does. they want to lean into the parts that you hate so that you don't put up a fight about it when they take it away for not being "good enough."

i know i maybe sound like a conspiracy theorist. but truly. truly. it is beneficial for conservatives to reduce your faith in the american public schooling system.

one of the explicitly stated campaign promises of the conservative party: to axe the Department of Education in 2024.

i know we are all tired and burnt out and there is so much else wrong with their entire platform. but maybe just - pay attention to this one.

#i can't believe i have to say this #the conservative party is legit like ''is it anything good? okay we hate it.''#''lets kill lgbt people and ummmmm school children shouldnt be able to read they should be at home watching jordan peterson :)"#the fact that it's like all related is. wild.#like it's wild bc if u start being like. actually making it impossible to afford housing is part of how they keep the nuclear family.....#it's just like lines connecting to lines. EXCEPT ITS OBVIOUS?#what's wild to me about most conspiracy theorists is that they're like . ohhhh the govt is hiding shit!!!!!!! they don't want u to know!!!#and im like. this old man literally got up on stage and said he hates public education and will let our kids die before taking away ak-47s #and ppl are like: lol thats just bob's sense of humor he didn't mean it literally uwu

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stemrobo · 2 years

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Tinker Coders is World’s First Online Coding Classes for kids & Experimental Learning Platform, through which kids (Age Group: 6-18) learn the art of coding which sought most important skills of 21st Century. Students will learn pattern recognition, strengthen their logical thinking, analytical skills & cognitive skills. Kids will directly interact with our mentors during live sessions via video calls designed for online training. They can also have hands-on experience on STEAM based kits.

#Online Coding Classes for kids #Online Coding Classes for kids Live #Coding Classes for kids #Coding Courses for kids #Coding Courses for kids online #Experimental Learning Platform for kids

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suiana · 1 year

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✎ yandere! side character that's the hot guy everyone wants to pursue in the hit otome game 'last waltz'!!! too bad he's only a side character and not one of the love interests

✎ yandere! side character that rides a super cool motorcycle and has multiple piercings. fuck he's so hot- wait he plays the electric guitar too?! why's he only a side character and not a love interest?!

✎ yandere! side character that's... sentient?! huh he's the only love interest for you now?! you're not complaining though, he makes things super spicy 😈😈

✎ yandere! side character that is obsessed with you. that's why you get special treatment :3 he was supposed to be one of the love interests but he's a sentient being and changed the code to become a side character for everyone instead.

"hold on tight baby. we're gonna go fast."

he laughs as an angry man in an expensive car chases after the both of you. you see, you had somehow isekai'd into the world of 'last waltz', a hit otome game back in your world. and you were on a date with one of the boring love interests until the hot side character you loved whisked you off your feet and practically kidnapped you from the love interest.

it was a funny thing to see, a side character fighting with one of the love interests. but who were you kidding, this guy was practically meant to be one of the love interests! his story and everything was so well developed and he had the looks too! it's just funny that he's a side character... that's in love with you?!

back in your world he'd often pop up when he wasn't supposed to, going on dates with your virtual avatar and... some other spicy things. like removing your in game clothes while you were asleep and leaving you in shock when you entered the game again.

at first you thought it was just a glitch. but a glitch couldn't be like this, right?! literally creating new whole stories and events just with him?! with the other love interests not even having a chance with you?!

you tried sharing your experience with others online, but it never worked. it was like there was some unknown force stopping you from doing so... your phone suddenly running out of battery, the app glitching out... it was so weird that you just gave up.

and then you were suddenly isekai'd into the game?? nothing made sense anymore. so you just lived like the main character, going on dates with hot love interests, taking their money and relishing in their constant love and affection... until the side character popped up and began to replace the love interests.

whatever, he was your favourite character anyways. and you knew he knew it. I mean, why else would he be smirking as you leaned into his touch as he sped away from the angry love interest?

"they must love me... more than the boring love interest at least."

he seemed to be in his own thoughts as he laughed boisterously. you ignored him, simply resting your head against his broad shoulders as the constant honking from the other love interest slowly faded away.

hm. you wonder if the side character will be as rough as other times. after all, the route he seems to be taking... is to his house. and whenever you were at his house, it always ended up with you in his bed. naked.

oh well.

whatever, it was just a virtual world. you'd be out soon so it doesn't matter.

right?

#tw yandere #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere side character #yandere side character x reader #male yandere #yandere drabbles #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #suiana rambling #suiana brainrotting

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ayamari-no-goshi · 3 months

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For reasons that I might not be able to explain, during a conversation @precarious-hermit has decided that Red Hood employees the following for his criminal empire. Mind you - this is for an AU! where Under the Red Hood never happens and the rest of the Bats are so confused as to what's going on. And Jason's living his best life not being discovered by them

Hoarders - Hoarders on speed dial to help hide various illegal things from the batfam. Jason knows some of them from the local knitting club

the teenage fanfic writer who has prophetic dreams and writes them in her fics. Jason has become her beta and will willing read through Batman/Two-Face fics in order to figure out what's going down next month

animal control - "RELEASE THE HEROIN RACCOONS!" Animal control has trained some of the local wildlife to help find and destroy certain illegal substances.

the MLM which specializes in essential oils - one of the oils is actually something of an antidote for Joker gas. Jason makes sure it's well stocked and tries to make sure no one who's gotten wrapped up in the MLM loses everything

The middle school army of online trolls that he pays a total of $120/month per kid.

The pizza place that delivers code via pepperoni pizza. Good news! For vegetarians and vegans, they'll work with mushrooms

cosplayers! (I added this one) - he enlists cosplayers to not only help with making armor but will also occasionally hire them as body doubles if the situation is not dangerous

#red hood #jason todd #dc comics #Red Hood's criminal empire #the real reason the citizens of Gotham love him #batman

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allisluv · 6 months

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DATING MODERN!FINNICK ODAIR HEADCANONS

finnick odair x fem!reader

this is completely inspired by the wonderful @sirenologyyy !!! please check out their sejanus headcanons, they're actually my favourite thing in the world! also im thinking of turning this into a series, so let me know which characters you want next by telling me in my inbox <3

modern!finnick whos love language is acts of service.

modern!finnick who will give you the homework in a heartbeat (even if half of his answers are wrong).

modern!finnick who queued up online for hours to get you eras tour tickets.

modern!finnick who showers you in love and affection at every single opportunity.

modern!finnick who buys you matching shark tooth necklaces and never takes his off.

modern!finnick who never goes to bed without telling you how much he loves you.

modern!finnick who always makes sure to buy you a new bouquet of flowers before your old ones die.

modern!finnick who loves when you wear his clothes -- especially his lacrosse jerseys. (this man would be feral ifywkim).

modern!finnick who watches tutorials online so he can learn how to braid your hair.

modern!finnick who is always holding your hand or linking your pinky fingers together in a crowd.

modern!finnick who buries his face in your neck when he's flustered.

modern!finnick who religiously watches the mamma mia movie (and cries during the slipping through my fingers scene). he's overall just a sucker for romcoms tbf

modern!finnick who is an early bird and goes for morning swims.

modern!finnick who had a youtube channel at some point or another.

modern!finnick who wanted to be a doctor because he watched greys anatomy ONCE .

modern!finnick who helps the kids on your street set up their lemonade stands during the summer <333

modern!finnick who is the best at gossiping. this man is telling you all the drama and making up code names so you can talk about it in public. hes so invested in other peoples lives (me too babe).

modern!finnick who loves the beach but hates the feeling of sand in between his toes.

modern!finnick who is your biggest supporter. he's such a good hype man and he cheers you on with whatever it is you choose to do.

#grace talks🐚🌷#the hunger games #thg #headcanons #finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair smut #finnick odair angst #sam claflin #catching fire #mockingjay

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snippit-crickit · 6 months

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I've been learning art for almost a year and I'm almost finish with the fundamentals. I'm scared to post a whole lot cringe art in my tumblr because of my lack of experience. Has it been scary to post art for you? or were you confident posting anyway?

Hai!! Thats a good question:]] When it comes to posting art, i wouldnt actually consider myself a chronically online kid but i did post my stuff from a young age in closed communities such as transformice forums and facebook with irl friends and relatives on it (with excessive descriptions)

We could say i was confident because i didnt care!! And i didnt care for a long time, i think posting stuff should be an add-on to drawing, you dont draw to post but for yerself:]] If people scare you you can try doin that! Well maybe not posting where your irl people can see it but finding a small community where you can share your stuff What actually stressed me out was posting with an audience, i had cultivated quite a large following on twitter and it made me have dreams that i was doxxed over posting cheese and stuff like that xD

I kinda moved onto tumblr and im more comfy here, i am old man coded and i dont even know where the number of followers here is (nobody tell me i want to live in obliviousness) Id say find a comfy space and dont get discouraged when your art doesnt get much attention, it do be like that when you start out:]! And dont let it get in your head too agsdh, you can do this!

#ask

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azumeowth · 7 months

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SpongeBob is an Adult

I'm so sick and tired of people trying to say that SpongeBob is a child or that he was 13 when he was hired at the Krusty Krab. I swear does anyone actually watch the show? Look no further than Season 3, Episode 3: The Bully.

Mrs. Puff would NOT be his teacher if he was a child. He is a grown ass man who can't pass the driver's test. That's not THAT uncommon.

The argument I often see online is his (fictional) driver's license stating his date of birth as 7/14/1986. There are two problems with this. One: This is a dream sequence. (A rebuttal to this is that his license was shown again in season 2, but cartoons reuse assets all the time) Two: We don't know when the show actually takes place. Many shows don't take place in the same year as real life. Example: The Jetsons.

Season 1, episode 12: Employee of the Month. 43 months have passed, at least, with the 44th month being this episode. Three and a half years have passed AT MINIMUM since he was hired. This is still in season 1, mind you. March 8, 2000 was when the episode aired. 10 months, 1 week after the Episode 1 airdate of May 1, 1999. These episodes do not go along with real time.

When people say he's a kid, they are not being literal. Figurative language has been around forever. They mean he has the heart and energy of a child while living his adult life. When Mr. Krabs calls him a kid, he is being dismissive and derisive. Krabs is an old man, to him, SpongeBob IS a kid, because he's so much older than him.

Squidward calls him a kid because he's just an asshole sometimes. It's like when someone dismisses someone else along the lines of "Shut up, you're like 12" even if the person is in their 30s.

Another problem I have with people insisting SpongeBob is a child is that he's very autistic-coded if not flat out autistic. To say he is a child is infantilizing autistic people who act the same way. My partner is this way, she is nearing 50 but she acts like a 10 year old. To say she's not an adult would be insulting at best and ableism at worst.

Need more proof? Season 1, episode 12: The Chaperone. SpongeBob mentions that he couldn't find a date to his junior prom. That means he finished his junior year of high school. At the very minimum, SpongeBob could be 17, but Pearl is 16 in that episode so that is VERY unlikely.

If I need to add more to this post, I will, but chances are the ones who need to read it never will.

#spongebob squarepants #spongebob #spongebob discourse

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scary-grace · 2 months

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the new postmodern age (chapter one) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Written for @threadbaresweater's follower milestone event, and the prompt 'a day at the beach'! Congratulations on the milestone, and thanks for giving me a chance to write this fic.

dividers by @enchanthings

Before the war, you were nothing but a common criminal, but in the world that's arisen from the ashes, you got a second chance. Five years after the final battle between the heroes and the League of Villains, you run a coffee shop in a quiet seaside town, and you're devoted to keeping your customers happy. Even customers like Shimura Tenko, who needs a second chance even more than you did -- and who's harboring a secret that could upend everything you've tried to build. Will you let the past drag both of you down? Or will you find a way, against all odds, to a new beginning? (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapters: 1 2 3

Chapter 1

You believe in second chances.

Before the war, you were living on the margins, just like the rest of even the pettiest criminals were. No one would hire someone with a record, even if the record was for something nonviolent, and that meant that you were always hungry, always freezing in the winter and getting heatstroke in the summer, always one step away from doing something worse and getting put away for good. You were going nowhere fast, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get back on your feet. It was a struggle to get up in the morning.

But after the war, something changed. Not a lot, but enough, because after a heartfelt public plea from the hero who saved the day, the world decided to care a little bit about people like you. The government passed new anti-discrimination laws, including one banning hiring discrimination against people with criminal records, and for nonviolent criminals like you, they opened up an extra opportunity – a choice between job training or a startup loan for a small business, so you could pay down your fines and restitution while adding something good to society. Sure, it was all in the name of preventing new villains from being created, but you’ll take it. You took it, picked up a loan, moved out of the city to a small town on the coast, and decided to open up a coffee shop.

You’re not really sure why you picked a coffee shop. Maybe because the town you moved to didn’t have one yet, or maybe because you used to hang out in them a lot when you had nowhere else to go. And the program you’re part of worked exactly like it was supposed to. You had to hire people to help you get the building you chose up to code, and that meant you met people in your new community. You showed those people that the criminals they hated were people, too. You’ve paid most of your fines and you’re able to break even anyway, and even though there’s a sign on the door telling everyone that you’re a convicted felon and you have to answer any questions you’re asked about it, you have customers.

Not just customers – regulars. People whose kids you’ve seen grow up, people who talk to you when they see you out and about. After five years of trying, you’ve finally carved out a place where you belong. So yeah, you believe in second chances. How could you not?

You stand back from your front window, admiring the latest addition. There’s the sign identifying your business as one sponsored by the Nonviolent Criminal Reintegration Act, but just above it, you’ve added a bigger sign: Free Internet Access. Osono, whose bakery makes the pastries you sell, studies it alongside you. “Free access? Shouldn’t it be access with purchase?”

“I thought about it a lot, but no.” You’re sort of lying. You thought about it for two seconds and that was it. “This is better.”

“It’ll attract riff-raff.”

That’s the kind of comment that used to really piss you off, but you know Osono. You know it’s just a blind spot, and you know how to respond. “Most things are online these days. Job applications, apartment listings, information on government assistance. When I was in trouble before, free internet access would have helped me a lot. And I usually bought something anyway, even if it was just a cup of coffee.”

“Not a pastry?” Osono nods at the trays stacked on her cart, and you remember that she’s waiting for you to open the door. Oops. You unlock it in a hurry and prop it open with a rock you pulled up from the beach. “Where were you getting food?”

“Wherever I could.” You were hungry a lot. And sick a lot, because sometimes you had to eat things that were expired. You don’t like to think about that very much. “I stole sometimes so I wouldn’t starve. I’ve paid it all back by now.”

“You know how to take responsibility,” Osono says. She slides back the door on your pastry case without asking and starts loading things in. “I wish more of them were like you.”

“Most of us are,” you say, as gently as you can manage. “We just need a fighting chance.”

Sometimes people forget that you’re a criminal, that you’ll carry your record around for the rest of your life. You can’t let them forget. Osono nods in the way that tells you she’s humoring you and lifts a tray of pastries you haven’t seen before out of the cart. “These are a new recipe I’m trying out. What do you think?”

“They’re pretty,” you say. “Is that chocolate in the filling?”

“And cinnamon. They aren’t vegan, but there aren’t any common allergens in them.” Osono passes you the recipe anyway, and you scribble down the ingredients on the back of the name card you’re making, just in case someone asks. “Tell me how they do, all right? If they sell decently I’ll add them to my rotation.”

“Will do.” You help her with the last few trays. “Thanks, Osono. Say hi to the kids and Naoki for me?”

“Will do.” Osono wheels the cart back out the door, then pauses to study the internet access sign. “Good luck with this.”

“Thanks.”

You wait until the delivery van pulls away before you start rearranging the pastries to your preferred setup. You add “new arrival” to the label for the new pastry, then touch the lettering to turn it a pleasant but eye-catching green before placing it front and center in the case. Then you set up your espresso machine, wake up the cash register, switch on the lights and take down the chairs from the tops of the tables – and only then do you switch on the other sign in your window. It’s seven am. Skyline Coffee and Tea is open for business.

It’s grey and cold, and the low tide is closer to noon today, which means you’re in for a busy morning as the people who walk the beach daily stop in for food and coffee first. Only one person orders one of the new pastries, but almost everyone comments on the free internet access. They say the same kind of thing Osono said, and you say the same thing you said to her if they hold still long enough for you to answer. You say it nicely. It’s an effort to say it nicely, sometimes, but it’s worth doing.

Past noon, things slow down a bit. You decide to speed-clean the espresso machine, and you’re so focused on your work that you don’t notice the customer. It’s possibly also the customer’s fault, since he’s peering at you from over the pickup counter instead of standing by the cash register, and when he barks the question at you, it startles you badly. “What’s the password?”

“On the WiFi?” You tuck your burned hand behind your back. “No password. Find a place to sit down and have at it.”

The customer looks disconcerted. Or at least you think he does – the lower half of his face is covered with a surgical mask, and given that he doesn’t have eyebrows, it’s hard to read his expression. “Why?”

“Why isn’t there a password?” You haven’t gotten that question yet. “I want people to be able to use it if they need it.”

“They’re gonna watch porn.”

“Me putting a password on the WiFi wouldn’t stop that,” you say. “And I’m not the internet police. If somebody starts acting up, I’ll deal with it. If not – just use headphones.”

The customer’s expression twists. “I didn’t mean me.”

“Sure.” You’re not a moron. “It’s not my business what you do. Unless your business starts messing with my business. Seriously. Knock yourself out.”

The customer turns away, and you spend a second being extremely grateful that you went for single-occupancy bathrooms instead of multiple-stall bathrooms before you go back to cleaning the espresso machine. Your hand hurts, but it’s nothing running it under cold water won’t fix later. When you straighten up, there’s someone at the counter.

It’s porn guy, who you really shouldn’t call porn guy. Innocent until proven guilty and all that. You dry your hands and hurry over. “What can I get for you today?”

“Black coffee.”

“Sure. Anything else?”

The customer glances at the pastry case and shakes his head. Then his stomach growls. He knows you heard it. What little of his face is visible above the mask turns red. “No.”

“Tell you what,” you say. “I’ve got these new pastries the bakery wants me to try out, but next to nobody’s tried one yet. If you agree to tell me how it was, you can have it half off.”

“I have money.” The customer shoves a credit card across the counter to you, and you see that he’s wearing fingerless gloves. Or sort of fingerless gloves. They’re missing the first three fingers on each hand. “I don’t need help.”

“No, but you’re helping me out.” You add the pastry to his order and discount it by half, then fish it out of the case with a pair of tongs. “For here or to go?”

“Here.” The customer watches as you set it on a plate. “What is that?”

“It’s babka.”

“I can read. What is it?”

“I don’t really know,” you admit. Maybe that’s why people aren’t buying them. “The filling’s chocolate and cinnamon, though. It’s hard to go wrong with that. It’ll be just a second with the coffee.”

You fill a cup, then point out the cream and sugar. Then you realize you still haven’t tapped the customer’s card. You finish ringing up the order and glance at the cardholder’s name. Shimura Tenko. He hasn’t been in before today. You’re not the best with faces, but you never forget a name.

Shimura Tenko sets up shop at the booth in the farthest corner, and although you sneak by once or twice to check on him, you’re pretty sure he’s not watching porn. People don’t usually take notes when they’re watching porn. It looks like he’s working or something. Working remote, but he doesn’t have internet access at home? Or maybe he does, and he’s just looking for a change of scenery. That’s a normal thing to do. A change of scenery is one thing Skyline Coffee and Tea is equipped to provide.

Speaking of that, it’s been a while since you changed out the mural on the café’s back wall. Your quirk, Color, lets you change the color of any object you touch, and choose how long the color sets. You’ve used it for a lot of things over the years, but now you mainly use it to create new murals every few months or so. The back wall’s been a cityscape since the fall, when you saw a picture of Tokyo’s skyline at night and got inspired. Maybe this weekend you’ll switch it out for something a little softer. If people wanted the city, they’d stay there instead of coming here.

Customers come in and out, a few lingering for conversations or to test out the free WiFi, but Shimura Tenko stays put, somehow making a single cup of black coffee last until you give the fifteen-minute warning that you’re closing up shop. Another person might be pissed about someone hanging out so long without buying anything else, but you’ve been there. You let it go, except to ask him how the babka was as he’s on his way out the door. He throws the answer back over his shoulder without looking your way. “It was fine. Nothing special.”

Fine, sure. When you go back to clear his table, you find the plate it was on wiped clean. There’s not even a smear of the filling left.

“Check this place out!” Your probation officer leans across the counter, eyes bright, out of costume and way too enthusiastic for eight in the morning. “It’s looking great in here. You changed something. New color scheme? New uniform?”

“Nope.” You don’t get nervous for your check-ins, but you don’t like the fact that they’re random. Today’s not a good day. “There’s some new stuff on the menu, and in the pastry case. Maybe that’s it.”

“No,” Present Mic says, drawing out the word. He turns in a slow circle, then whips back around with a grin. “When did you repaint that wall?”

“I didn’t paint it,” you say. It’s best to be honest. “I used my quirk. I’m not making money off of it and it’s not hurting anyone, so it falls within the terms of my probation.”

“Take it easy there, listener. I’m not trying to bust you,” Present Mic says. Heroes always say that. You know better than to buy it. “It looks good. Really brightens the place up.”

“I thought it could use it,” you say. “It’s kind of a rough time of year.”

Cold weather always brings you lots of customers, but people are sharper, unhappier, and if they’re in the mood to take it out on someone, they pick somebody who can’t make a fuss or hit back. Somebody like you. You’ve learned not to take it personally. “Not too rough financially. You’ve made all your payments on time. I checked.” Present Mic is peering into the pastry case. “How’s that free internet access thing going for you?”

“Not so bad,” you say. “The connection’s pretty fast, so I get people in here who are taking online classes, or working remote. I’ve only had to kick one person out for watching porn.”

“Yeah, he filed a complaint,” Present Mic says, and your stomach drops. “You made the right call. Don’t worry.”

You’re going to worry. It’s going to take all day for that one to wear off. “I haven’t had problems with it otherwise.”

“Why’d you do it?” Present Mic gives you a curious look. “Free stuff brings all kinds of people out of the woodwork. Why give yourself the headache?”

“I want this to be the kind of place I needed,” you say. “Somewhere safe where nobody would kick me out if I couldn’t buy more than one cup of coffee, where I could use the internet without getting in trouble for it. A headache’s worth that to me.”

It’s quiet for a second, but Present Mic being Present Mic, it doesn’t last. “You really turned a corner, huh? Hard to believe you were ever on the wrong side of the law.”

“We all could be there,” you say. “It only takes one mistake.”

Present Mic sighs. “You’re telling me. Did you catch the news last week?”

“The thing with Todoroki Touya?” The surviving members of the League of Villains all went through their own rehab, and they’re on permanent probation – and last weekend, Todoroki Touya, formerly known as Dabi, lit somebody’s motorcycle on fire after they followed him for six blocks, harassing him the whole way. “I saw. Is he getting revoked?”

“Nope. The other guy was way out of line, and the panel ruled that the majority of people – former villains or not – would have reacted similarly under that kind of pressure.” Present Mic rolls his shoulders, and his leather jacket squeaks. “All I can say is, he’s lucky we’re in the business of second chances these days. Or fifth chances.”

“Why so many?” you ask. “The rest of us are on three strikes, you’re out.”

“Yeah, but you have to mess up a lot worse for it to count as a strike,” Present Mic points out. “If I had to guess, I’d say it’s a guilt thing. This whole rehab thing is Deku’s idea. And Deku never got over what happened with Shigaraki.”

Members of the League of Villains died leading up to the final battle, but of the five who made it that far, only one of them was dead at the end of the war – Shigaraki Tomura, their leader. To most people, it was good riddance to the greatest evil Japan has ever seen, but Deku’s always been publicly against that viewpoint. Insistent that All For One was the true villain. Regretful that the war ended with Shigaraki’s death, too. “Since he couldn’t save him, he’s stuck on saving the other four,” Present Mic continues. “Which equals infinite chances. So far Todoroki’s the only one who’s needed them.”

You nod. Present Mic stretches. “Let’s take a walk,” he decides. “I’ll buy coffee for both of us.”

“I can’t leave,” you say. “I don’t have anybody else to watch this place. If a customer comes by –”

“Half an hour, tops. Come on.” Present Mic produces a wallet from the inside of his leather jacket. “The sooner we leave, the sooner you can come back.”

You lock up, hating every second of it, and follow Present Mic into the cold, a to-go cup of your own coffee in your hands. Present Mic runs through the usual list of questions, the ones that cover your mindset as much as they cover your progress on your program requirements. Some of them are about how you’re getting along with the civilians in town, and you know he’ll be checking in with some of your customers, seeing if their perception lines up with yours. It feels invasive. Intrusive. Some part of you always pushes back. You always quiet it down. You made this bed for yourself, coming up on a decade ago. Now you have to lie in it.

“I’ve got some news,” Present Mic says, once he’s finished with the questions. “The program’s considering early release for some of the participants.”

“Why?”

“The legislative review’s coming up, and they want success stories,” Present Mic says. “You know, people who clawed their way out of the criminal underworld to become productive members of society. I’m putting your name on the list.”

You almost drop your coffee. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Mic says. He seems taken aback by your surprise. “I mean – you’re kind of who this thing was designed for, listener. You caught your first charge when you were underage, for a nonviolent crime, and the rest of your case is a perfect example of just one of the many problems Deku won’t shush about. Now look at you. You’ve got your own business, you’re paying back your debt to society, you’re participating in civilian life. There are civilians who don’t do that much.”

Of course they don’t. Actual civilians don’t have to prove they have a right to exist. “If you’re approved for early release, the government will waive interest on your startup loan, and I heard a rumor that they’re considering wiping charges off people’s records,” Mic continues. “It’s a pretty good deal, listener. And you’re making a pretty weird face.”

“Sorry,” you say, trying to fix it. “I mean – felonies are a forever thing. They don’t get wiped.”

“It’s just a rumor,” Mic says, and pats your shoulder. “Even if that doesn’t pan out, you could use a break on the interest. Anyway, it’s not a sure thing, but I put your name up. You’ve got as good a shot as anybody.”

You think that’s probably true, which is weird to think about. You’ve been behind the eight ball since you were in high school. Present Mic throws down the rest of his coffee, then turns back the way the two of you came. “Let’s go. I saw a pastry I wanted to buy, and I bet you have a customer or two.”

You’ve heard things about other program participants’ probation officers taking things without paying, but you got lucky with Present Mic – he always pays. Sometimes he even gives you a hard time for setting your prices too low. And he’s right about the customers. When you get back, one of your regulars is sitting cross-legged, leaning back against the locked door with his hood up and his laptop open.

It’s Shimura Tenko, who you never saw before you started offering free internet, and who’s turned into a regular ever since. The two of you don’t talk the way you do with some of your other regulars – something about the mask and the hood and the gloves tells you that Shimura isn’t looking to make friends. But he shows up two or three times a week, orders black coffee, and camps out in the corner of the café until closing time. Sometimes you can talk him into a pastry, and it’s always a babka. Whether he orders one or not, he’s always hungry when he comes in.

Shimura looks up as you and Present Mic approach. His eyes narrow, then widen abruptly, almost comically shocked. Then he slams his laptop shut, rockets to his feet, and books it, vanishing down the street and around the corner. You feel a surge of frustration. “Can you not scare my customers?”

“I’m out of costume. Even when I’m in, nobody’s scared of me.” Present Mic is lying. You’d have been scared out of your mind to run into him back in the day. “Damn, that guy was skittish. What’s his deal?”

“He’s one of my regulars.” Was one of your regulars, probably. People don’t react the way Shimura just did and come back for more. You unlock the door, feeling strangely dispirited. “Which pastry were you thinking about?”

Present Mic sticks around for an hour or so, long enough to talk to a few customers who don’t run away from him. Most of your regulars have seen him before. He leaves a little bit before noon, after eating three pastries he paid for, and as usual, the café quiets down in the afternoon. You don’t mind. Today wasn’t a good day even before Mic put in a surprise appearance and scared off a customer for good. Days like today, you’d rather have the place to yourself.

Sometimes in the midst of proving you’re a model citizen to anybody who looks your way, you forget that there’s a reason you weren’t. It wasn’t a good reason. Your family wasn’t rich, but you always had what you needed and some of what you wanted. Your parents weren’t perfect, but they loved you. You weren’t the most popular kid at school, but you always had someone to talk to. And none of that mattered, because you felt hollow and miserable and lonely no matter what else was going on around you.

Nothing you did or said could make you feel better. Everything felt the same, and everything felt awful, and no matter how hard you tried to explain, to ask for help, to raise the alarm, you couldn’t get your point across. You had a good life. What did you have to complain about?

The judge who handed you your first conviction said pretty much exactly that. You’ve heard that the sentencing guidelines for minors have changed, that untreated mental health issues are considered a mitigating factor these days, but back then it didn’t matter at all. You got help at some point. You take your meds like you’re supposed to, and you did therapy until you realized the people who monitor your probation were reading your notes. And you’re older now. You know the hollow feeling goes away. But that doesn’t mean it’s any easier to tolerate when it’s here.

You’re hanging out behind the counter, staring at your most recent mural and wishing you’d chosen something less cheerful than the field of wildflowers that’s currently decorating it, when the door opens. You barely have time to get your game face on before Shimura Tenko steps up to the counter. “Um –”

“How many heroes are you friends with?” Shimura asks shortly.

“I’m not friends with Present Mic,” you say. “That was a spot check. He’s my probation officer.”

Shimura blinks. He has crimson eyes and dark lashes, matching his dark hair. “Huh?”

“My probation officer,” you repeat. “I’m a convicted felon.”

“Don’t lie. They’d never let a convicted felon run a coffee shop.”

“I got a loan,” you say. “Through the Nonviolent Criminal Rehabilitation Act. It says so on the sign.”

“Your sign says free internet access.”

“Underneath that.” You wonder if it’s really possible that Shimura didn’t see the other sign. Maybe he was just too hyped at the prospect of free internet to look any harder. “How long have you lived here?”

“Five years.” Shimura looks defensive now. “What’s it to you?”

Five years, and you never saw him before today. He must keep to himself. “Nothing. I just – I thought everybody around here knew. I’m not very quiet about it. I’m not allowed to be.”

“Why not?”

You don’t want to do this right now, but rules are rules. “Part of the Reintegration Act involves educating civilians about where criminals come from – like, how a person goes from you to me.”

Shimura snorts. It’s rude, but not anywhere close to the rudest thing someone’s done to you when you talk about this. “The government thinks the people who are best equipped to educate about this are the actual criminals, so I’m legally obligated to answer any questions people ask me – about my record, about why I did it, about the program and why I’m doing that. So they understand what’s happening and why it’s happening. For transparency.”

“And that means anybody can question you, any time,” Shimura says, eyes narrowing.

“Yep. Stop, drop, and educate.” You wait, but he’s quiet, and you’re tired enough and hollow enough that the suspense gets to you first. “You can ask what I did. I have to tell you.”

Shimura nods – but then he doesn’t ask. About that, at least. “It’s dead in here. Did Present Mic clear everybody else out?”

“No. It gets quiet on sunny days when the tide’s low.” You nod through the window, and the sliver of beach visible between the buildings across the street. “I was thinking about closing early.”

“Why?” Shimura’s voice holds the faintest shadow of a sneer. “To walk on the beach?”

To lay facedown on your bed and wait for tears that won’t come, and won’t make you feel any better if they do. “Now you’re here, so I’m open. Do you want the usual?”

Shimura hesitates. Then he shakes his head. “Go home.”

“I’m open,” you repeat. You don’t want him to complain to Present Mic like the actual porn guy did. “Do you want the usual or do you feel like something new?”

“The usual.”

“Come on,” you say. He glares at you over his mask. There’s an old scar over his right eye. “There’s nobody here. Nobody’s going to catch you drinking something that actually tastes good.”

“The usual,” Shimura Tenko says, and crosses his arms over his chest. “And –”

He glances at the pastry case, and you see his expression shift into disappointment. It makes you sadder than it should, but you can fix it easily. You slide the babka you saved on the faint hope that he’d come back out of hiding and into full view. “One of these?”

Shimura stares at it for a full fifteen seconds before he looks up at you. “You saved it for me.”

“Yeah.” You pride yourself on knowing what your regulars like. You don’t want someone you see a few times a week to leave unsatisfied. “One babka and one black coffee, coming up.”

Shimura holds out his card, then hesitates. You’ve never seen him look uncertain at all. “And whatever you think tastes better than black coffee. One of those.”

“Really?” You can’t hide your surprise, or what an unexpected lift it is for your mood. “You won’t regret it. Which flavors do you like?”

“I don’t care.” Shimura waits while you swipe his card, then tucks it away. “This was your idea. I’m going – over there.”

He gestures at the back corner. “I know where you like to sit,” you say. “I’ll bring it out.”

As soon as he leaves, you get to work. You need to nail this. He’ll laugh at you if you bring him a tea latte, so it needs to have an espresso base. What goes well with babka? You already have chocolate and cinnamon on board – what about caramel, or hazelnut? Does he even like sweet things? He must, if he keeps ordering the damn babka. Maybe hazelnut, but what if he’s allergic? You pitch your voice to carry and see him startle. “Do you have any allergies?”

“Not to food.”

You wonder what he’s actually allergic to as you start pulling espresso shots for a chocolate hazelnut mocha. You really hope Shimura likes Nutella, because that’s exactly what this is going to taste like. Using bittersweet chocolate syrup instead of milk chocolate fixes it partway, but when you pour off a tiny bit to try it, it still tastes a lot like something you’d eat out of a jar with a spoon.

Whatever. You’re committed now. You don’t have a choice. You pour it into a cup, make some vague gesture at foam art, and carry it and the black coffee through the empty café to Shimura’s table. “One black coffee and one drink that actually tastes good.”

Shimura eyes the second cup. “What’s in there?”

“You said you didn’t care.”

“Yeah, well, now that I know you’ve done time I’m not sure I can trust you,” Shimura says, and you lock your expression down. That one hurt. A lot. He drags the cup towards himself with his right hand and lifts it to his mouth as he pulls down his mask with his left, but you’ve lost interest in the outcome. You turn and head back to the counter, trying not to feel like someone’s slapped you in the face and convincing yourself at least a little that it works.

You screw around behind the counter, taking inventory and counting down the minutes until last call, but Shimura’s back at the counter with forty-five minutes to go, an empty cup in his hand. It’s not the cup you put the black coffee in. “Fine. You win. I want another one of these.”

“Yep.” You set your clipboard aside and head back to the cash register to ring him up. “For here or to go?”

“Here.”

“I’m closing soon. To-go’s probably better.”

“Are you kicking me out?” Shimura asks. You look up at him, make eye contact, and whatever he sees in your face sets him off. Not in the way you thought it would. “Before, about the doing time thing. You know I was kidding, right?”

“Sure you were. Do you want a receipt?”

“Hey,” Shimura snaps. “It was a joke.”

“Not a good one.”

“Yeah, it was. If you –” Shimura breaks off, his scowl clear even from behind the mask. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I wouldn’t have said that if I didn’t get it.”

“Get it,” you repeat. “You’ve done time?”

“Yeah.” Shimura Tenko covers the back of his neck with one hand. “No charges, but – yeah, I did time. So it’s funny.”

“It’s still not funny.” You lift the empty cup out of Shimura’s hands and turn to start making a second Nutella-esque mocha, trying to decide if you feel better or not. “It’s just not mean.”

A shadow falls across you as you work. Shimura’s following you along the edge of the counter. “So am I getting kicked out or what?”

“Yes,” you say. “In forty-five minutes, when I close.”

Shimura’s eyes crinkle ever so slightly at the corners. You wonder what his smile looks like under that mask, but you’ve got espresso shots to pull, and you need to focus if you don’t want to burn your hand. You look away, and when you look back again, he’s at his table, laptop open, mask on, chin propped in his gloved hand. No charges, but he’s done time. You didn’t expect that. Even though you’ve spent the last five years of your life trying to prove that you’re no different than anybody else, it still catches you by surprise to learn that one of your customers is like you.

You bring the second drink by his table, then start working through your closing checklist. He stands up with five minutes to go, just like clockwork. He leaves without another word, as usual, but when you step outside, he’s still standing there. “You didn’t ask why.”

Why he did time? “Neither did you,” you say.

“Yeah, but I won’t break probation if I don’t answer.”

“It’s the principle of the thing,” you say. It’s not quite dark, but the sun’s almost down, and the shadows are growing long. Late March already, but it feels like you’ve got a long way to go before spring. “If I want people who meet me to look at the person I am now, I have to do the same thing for them.”

Shimura Tenko makes a sound, half-laughter and half-scoffing. “They sure did a number on you,” he says. You turn and walk away, and his footsteps follow yours. “Hey. Come on. There’s no way you’re that sensitive.”

“I’m not,” you say. “I’m just having a bad day.”

A bad day, and you never get a day off. Even if the café’s not open, you’re still in sunshine mode every second, making sure that the people who want to treat you like a criminal look absolutely insane for doing it. You fought hard for this life. You’re glad you fought for it. And today more than usual, you’re just really tired. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Yeah,” Shimura says. You’re glad he doesn’t try to apologize again. You know it would be painfully insincere. “How did you know?”

“Hmm?”

“The pastry. How did you know I’d come back?”

“I didn’t,” you say. “I just hoped you would.”

You don’t know why you hoped. Maybe because he’d clearly been waiting a while when you and Present Mic got back. Maybe because you remember how much it mattered to have somewhere else to go, whether you had a place of your own or not. Maybe because you’ve gotten sort of a sense of him over the past few months, and you know he’s the kind of person who pretends not to want the things he wants. Wanting the coffee shop he hangs out in to be open and to have his favorite pastry available is such a reasonable thing to want. You were hoping he’d come back so you could give it to him.

Shimura doesn’t say anything. You keep walking, and he doesn’t follow you. When you glance back over your shoulder as you round the corner, you see him standing just outside of Skyline Coffee and Tea, staring intently at something. You can’t say for sure. But you’re pretty sure it’s the sign that explains about the NCRA.

A while back, you read that some countries set aside two days to commemorate a war. One day to celebrate that it ended, another to mourn that it happened at all. When it comes to the war you lived through, Japan does things differently. There’s just one day, a national holiday, where every government office closes and most businesses do, too. For most people, it’s a day to celebrate. There are carnivals, street fairs, concerts, parties. It’s been a holiday for exactly four years and a whole host of traditions have already sprung up around it.

But there’s one person who never celebrates, and it didn’t take you long to come around to his way of thinking. On April 4th, the fifth annual Day of Peace, you close the café early and make the trek to Kamino Ward.

You’re not sure how Kamino Ward became the place. Maybe because the final battlefield’s been overtaken by celebrations, and at least some people still see Kamino as hallowed ground. The place where the Symbol of Peace made his last stand. The place where the Symbol of Fear passed the torch onto his successor. You get there a little while before sunset, and you join the hundreds of people who’ve already gathered there. The crowd looks smaller than it did last year, and it hasn’t grown much by the time Midoriya Izuku, known to the world as Deku, climbs onto the steps leading up to the All Might statue’s plinth.

Someone hands him a microphone, which he takes with hands that tremble ever so slightly. He’s only twenty-one, and he looks old before his time. “I’m here,” he starts, then swallows hard. “I’m here because we didn’t win. Not really. If you’re here instead of at a party somewhere, I think it’s probably because you lost something. Something, or someone, who was important to you. Something you can’t get back.”

It’s quiet. It’s always quiet after he says something like that. “I’d like to think we did something. That we changed for the better,” Deku continues, “but I think we can only say that if we don’t forget what we had to lose for it to happen. So, um – you know the drill. If you brought a candle, great. If you didn’t, we have some. You can say the thing you lost if you want – we have a microphone – but when you’re done, light the candle and put it down somewhere that feels right to you.”

He takes a deep breath, lets it go. “And then you can go. But I’ll stay until they all burn out.”

People swarmed the first two years. This year they form a line, stepping up to light their candles one by one. You never know what to say when it’s your turn, because it’s not something specific you miss. The way things used to be was awful. You don’t miss that, and you weren’t close enough to anybody to lose someone who mattered in the war. But April 4th has never felt like a happy day. It feels wrong to you to be setting off fireworks and throwing parties in response to a war that almost destroyed the world.

A lot of people say names when it’s their turn to light a candle. Some say places. Some share an ideal they lost, a hero they venerated who fell from their pedestal, a dream they had that will never come true. Each lost thing named is met with respectful silence. But just like last year and the year before, there are three names that aren’t, no matter who says them. “Big Sis Magne. Bubaigawara Jin,” says Toga Himiko as she lights her candle. Say Todoroki Touya and Sako Atsuhiro and Iguchi Shuichi, who still answers to Spinner, as they light theirs. “Shigaraki Tomura.”

There’s always whispering after their names, especially Shigaraki’s. But Deku always goes last, and Deku always shuts them up. He lights his candle and grasps the microphone, speaking clearly, firmly. “Shigaraki Tomura.”

You remember what Present Mic said, about how Deku never got over failing to save Shigaraki. Deku was sixteen when he won the war. Still a kid. Was saving Shigaraki really his job? Maybe that’s the point of all this. It was everyone’s job to stop villains like Shigaraki from being created, and you all failed, so it fell to Deku – and he failed, too. It’s one big, sad, ugly mess. When you’re honest with yourself, you’re not surprised that most people try to cover it up with fireworks.

People begin to filter out of the memorial park, and you find a place to sit down. It’s not like you have somewhere else to go. The others who say settle in as well, in small groups amidst the rows and clusters of candles. You’re within earshot of one of the groups. Without meaning to, you find yourself listening in.

“They’d have hated this,” Todoroki Touya is saying, his voice low and bitter. “Every second of it.”

“Big Sis Magne wouldn’t have. And Twice would have liked it,” Toga Himiko says. Her voice is soft. “All the candles. He’d say it’s like his birthday.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Todoroki Touya’s voice goes even quieter. “Do any of us know when his birthday was?”

It’s quiet. “Shigaraki would hate this,” Todoroki states. “You know he would. What did he tell you to tell Spinner, Deku?”

Deku doesn’t answer. Spinner does. “Shigaraki Tomura fought to destroy until the very end.”

“Yeah,” Todoroki says. “To destroy. And Deku made him a martyr.”

“He destroyed a lot of things,” Deku says quietly. “All For One is gone. One For All, too – there’s never going to be another Symbol of Peace. He destroyed the way we saw villains. We don’t just get to look at what they’re doing right now. We have to think about how they got there. And he destroyed how we saw ourselves.”

“Yeah?” Spinner says. “How?”

“We didn’t think we were responsible for other people,” Deku says. “Now we have to be.”

It’s quiet again. This time it’s quiet for a while. “Whatever,” Todoroki says. “I’m going home. See you all at the next sobfest.”

“He always says that,” Spinner says, once his footsteps have faded. “He’s gonna get tanked at home and text us just like he did last year.”

“I miss Tomura-kun,” Toga says, her voice softer than before. “I thought we’d all be together at the end.”

“I know,” Deku says. “I’m sorry.”

“And you’re sure –” Spinner breaks off. “You’re sure you couldn’t get his ashes or something? So we could –”

“There was nothing left of Shigaraki,” Deku says. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” Spinner says. Toga sniffles. “We know.”

The group splits, Toga in one direction, Spinner in the other. A moment later, Deku walks past you, and you do everything you can to fade into the background short of turning yourself camo-colored. It doesn’t work. “Did you hear all that?” Deku asks. You nod. He sighs, or sniffles, maybe. He looks younger up close. “You were here last year, right?”

“And the year before,” you say. The longer you look at him, the worse shape he’s in. “Um, are you okay?”

“It’s just –” Deku’s eyes well up, suddenly. “It’s hard. I can’t say what I want to say to them.”

“Why not?” you ask stupidly, and he shakes his head. “Um – do you want to sit down?”

You wouldn’t ask another hero that, but you feel like it’s worth the risk. Even though he’s twenty-one, you can’t look at him and see anything other than a kid, and it feels wrong to let a kid stand there and cry. Deku sits down next to you. “I know I’m not supposed to ask,” he starts, his voice watery, “but you never say anything when it’s your turn. Most people don’t come here. Even the ones who lost somebody would rather be at a party somewhere. Why do you come back?”

You have to think about it for a second. Deku cringes. “Sorry. You don’t have to answer.”

“I sort of do.” It might hit your probation requirements, and even if it doesn’t, you should explain anyway. “What you said earlier, in your speech – I’m one of the people the world got better for. My life would have been awful if it had stayed the same. But in order for me to have this life, we had to have the war.”

“What did you do during the war? Were you in a shelter?”

You shake your head. “The shelters banned people with criminal records,” you say. Deku’s eyes widen. “Nowhere would let me in.”

It wasn’t all that different from the way you were living before – not much food, not very safe. The only difference was a sharp increase in the number of abandoned buildings for you to crash in. But it looks like you’re making Deku feel worse, not better, and you scramble into part two of your explanation. “I’m one of the NCRA participants. That program only exists because of the war – and you, because you won’t let people forget why the war happened. So I want to remember why the war happened, too. And I want to honor it. Them.”

“Him,” Deku corrects, and your stomach clenches. “I wonder what he thinks of all of this. If it’s enough. If it’ll ever be enough. I mean, obviously it’ll never be enough for him, because he doesn’t – I mean, I can’t ask him, but I know he can see it. I don’t know where he is, but if I could just ask him –”

You didn’t realize Deku believed this strongly in the afterlife. You sit quietly, and after a few seconds, he remembers you’re there. He glances at you, embarrassed. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say. “Do you not get to talk about it very much?”

“No,” Deku admits. “People want to move on. And I don’t really blame them. But I can’t. Not until I know for sure.”

It’s quiet for a little bit. He wipes his eyes. You watch the candles flicker down a few millimeters more. “You’re in the NCRA,” Deku says finally. “For job training, or did you get a loan?”

“I got a loan,” you say. “I run a coffee shop now. With free WiFi.”

“Do people like it?”

“I think so,” you say. You think of the kids who come to study, the people who use the WiFi for remote work, the old people who walk the beach every morning and stop by for coffee and pastry afterwards. “I have regulars, anyway. And people talk to me now. They never used to.”

“People talk to me now, too,” Deku says. “It’s nice.”

“Yeah,” you agree. “It is.”

It is, but it’s not quite what you meant, and you don’t want to interrupt when Deku starts talking about the NCRA. It’s not just that people talk to you. They talked to you before, but now they see you – not as a criminal, but as a person like them, minus the squeaky-clean record. That’s new, and that’s good. You know even less about Shigaraki Tomura than Deku does, but even if he’d hate what’s happened to the world he wanted to destroy, you’re thankful anyway. The world is better now. It’s better because of Deku, and Deku’s the way he is because of Shigaraki.

There are fireworks going off over the bay, distant enough that you can’t hear the sound. Closer than that, you hear music and laughter from a street party you passed on your way here from the train station. Deku trails off after a while, and you don’t speak up again. The two of you sit in silence until the last of the candles burns away.

You get home late, and it’s an early morning opening up the café. Luckily for you, everybody else is also running late courtesy of the holiday yesterday. Osono comes by fifteen minutes off-schedule and full of apologies, and while you’ve got your doors open by seven, it’s not until seven-fifty-eight that your first customers come through the door. It’s a double shot of espresso kind of day, and while you’re pulling them, your customers tell you about the parties they went to last night. When they ask what you did, you tell them you went into the city. It’s not a lie.

After the slow start, the shop stays quieter than usual, quiet enough that when Shimura Tenko rolls up just past noon, there’s still plenty of babka left in the pastry case. You start his order before he’s even opened the door – one black coffee, one Nutella-flavored nightmare – and he stops to drop off his stuff at his usual table before he comes up to the counter. You can tell he’s disquieted by something. “Did Present Mic come by and scare everybody off again? How are you going to keep this place open if no one’s here?”

“Mornings are a lot busier than afternoons,” you say. “And spring’s my quietest season, anyway. No tourists like there are in the summer, and it’s not very cold.”

“Yeah.” Shimura glances around, still displeased. “This place had better stay open.”

“It will,” you say. “One shot of espresso or two?”

“Three.”

“Three? It’s your funeral,” you say, but you pull the extra shot. “Late night last night?”

“I went to a party,” Shimura says. You nod. “It was my birthday.”

“Happy birthday.” You cancel half his order. You give people a free drink on their birthday, if you know it and they come in. “Your birthday is April 4th? That’s a tough draw, especially the last few years.”

“You’re telling me.” Instead of retreating to his table like usual, Shimura hovers at the bar. “What about you? Did you go to a party?”

You shake your head. “I went into the city.”

“Which city?”

“Yokohama,” you admit. Shimura’s eyes narrow. “I go to the vigil at Kamino. I have every year they’ve done it.”

“Really,” Shimura says, skeptical. “Why?”

Deku asked you the same question. You have a feeling Shimura won’t like the answer, but it’s the only one you have. “My life is better than it was before the war, because of what happened in the war. I want to be thankful for that. It doesn’t feel right to me to go to a carnival.”

Shimura doesn’t say anything, just watches you. It makes you feel weird. “If I’d known it was your birthday, though, I’d have gone to a party for that. It was your birthday way before it was the Day of Peace.” You’re babbling, and Shimura still hasn’t said a word. “Not that you’d invite me to your birthday party or anything.”

“I didn’t know you’d want to go,” Shimura says slowly. The espresso machine beeps, and you focus on it way harder than you’d do under ordinary circumstances. “Look, I – it wasn’t my party. Just a party. It’s not like I went in a fucking birthday hat.”

“That would look pretty weird with your hood still up,” you say. Shimura makes an odd sound. You look up and see the corners of his eyes crinkling again. “Still, though. I’ll remember for next year. I’ll get a cupcake or something. Even if you don’t want somebody who’s done time at your birthday party.”

Shimura laughs at that. Actually laughs. Your chest constricts, filling with warmth in a way that feels out of proportion to the situation at hand. “I only want people who’ve done time at my birthday party,” he says. “Don’t try to give me that drink for free. You letting this place go under would be a shitty birthday present.”

“Too late. It’s already free and I’m not rerunning the sale.” You pour the black coffee and set it down on the pickup counter, followed by the godawful Nutella drink. “Happy birthday plus one.”

Shimura rolls his eyes, but they’re still crinkled slightly at the corners. He doesn’t respond until he’s already halfway back to the table, and he’s so quiet that you have to strain your ears to hear. “Thanks.”

You should say something. Something like “you’re welcome”, or “any time”. Something that sounds like good customer service, instead of what you’re worried will come out of your mouth if you open it right now. The conversation is over. Nothing else needs to be said. You turn to face your small workspace, searching for a distraction. There has to be something you can clean.

It’s been so long since you had a crush that you barely remember what it’s like, but you’re pretty sure you have a crush on Shimura. As far as crushes go, he’s kind of a weird pick – because he’s a customer, because he’s not the friendliest, because he hasn’t given any indication that he likes you at all. He likes babka and free internet and the horrible off-menu mocha you make just for him. That’s it.

It feels weird to have a crush. Weird in how normal of a thing it is to do, when you’ve been so focused on looking normal and pretending to be normal that you haven’t done anything actually normal in a while. But maybe this is a good thing, and maybe it’s okay. You might get released early from your NCRA requirements, and even if you don’t, you’re doing well. You can afford to like somebody again.

The café stays quiet, and with two hours left before closing time, you’re getting bored. Bored, and you haven’t switched out the mural since before your last check-in with Present Mic. Now’s an okay time for that. You scribble a sign to prop up on the counter – I’m here, just yell – and head towards the back wall. You have to pass Shimura to get there, and as you do, he looks up. “I’m not looking,” you say. “I’ll just be over here.”

“Doing what?”

“A new mural,” you say. “Pretend I’m not here.”

Shimura decides to start right away, and you flex your fingers more out of habit than anything else. Then you set your hand on the wall and activate your quirk, changing the entire wall from the wildflower mural back to the same blank neutral as the others. That’s a good start. Now you just need to figure out what you’re going to do with it.

Actual muralists sketch and line their work. They work from references and they draft the design before they actually start painting. You know that because you used to want to be a muralist yourself. You could sketch and line things, but these days you’re more about feelings than anything else, and feelings take color. You block the wall into a few sections – you remember to do that, at least – and fill in general colors, running your fingers along the edges to blur them together. Grey base and sides. Dark-colored middle. The entire upper half of the wall is light. It’s not until you’ve added the half-circle above the horizon that you get a real understanding of what you’re making.

It's another cityscape, or the ruins of one, something you saw in photos or maybe in person. It looks a lot like the sunrise view from Kamino Ward, the sky on fire with deep purple and orange and pink and gold, the reflection of those colors splashed across the sea, the wreckage of the city bathed in morning light. You’ve done enough therapy to psychoanalyze yourself, and it’s not hard to see what you were going for with this. Things are horrible. Things were horrible for a long time before today, but the sun is still rising, and the sunrise is still beautiful. And it’s a lot easier to see now, with all the other stuff out of the way.

“That’s not paint.”

You weren’t expecting Shimura to say anything, and you weren’t expecting him to pay attention to what you’re doing. But when you look back over your shoulder, you see him staring, his phone set aside, the lid of his laptop shut. “It’s not paint,” you say. “Just my quirk.”

“How does it work?” Shimura asks. You turn back to your mural, and you hear him get to his feet. A moment later he’s standing beside you, answering his own question. “You can change the color of things you touch. And decide how long it stays that way.”

“Yeah.” After using it your whole life, you’re pretty good at it. You can fine-tune stuff, enough to add shading to the buildings and the rubble at the sides and bottom of the mural without compromising the light from the sunrise. “Not a very powerful quirk.”

“You could still cause trouble,” Shimura says. You could. And you did. “This is how you got your charges, isn’t it? Stuff like this.”

“Graffiti? Yeah,” you say. You remember the rush you got the first time you tagged something, the first time you spilled your thoughts and feelings in a way no one could ignore. “Except when you do that, you get charged with trespassing and vandalism, and when they figure out they can’t remove it, you get charged with destruction of property. Throw in malicious unlicensed quirk usage and – boom. Felonies.”

“That’s stupid.”

“Me or them?”

“Giving somebody a felony for painting stuff on walls.” Shimura studies what you’ve done so far. “All of these have been yours, right? Is this the same stuff you were painting before?”

“Not always,” you say. This conversation falls under your NCRA obligations, but it doesn’t feel like it’s the reason Shimura’s asking – and it’s not the reason you’re telling him. “When I first got into it, it was just words or sentences. Stuff I couldn’t figure out how to say out loud. The first time I really got busted, it was for tagging the side of my parents’ house.”

“Your parents called the cops on you?”

“And pressed charges,” you say. He’s staring at you again. You pretend you don’t notice and fuss over the shoreline in the mural. “I got better at it when I was older. The art got better, anyway. But I got in more trouble because of where I put it. And I guess what was in it.”

“Anything I’d have seen?”

“I don’t know. Where did you hang around?” you ask. You got booked in most of the big cities in Japan during your criminal career. “Uh, I did the UA barrier. The one with the – you know.”

“The human shields?” Shimura bursts out laughing. “Did you have a sibling in Eraserhead’s class or something?”

“No, I just thought it was stupid to do the Sports Festival a week after what happened,” you say. Shimura snickers. “It felt like they were using the kids as props to distract from how much of a mistake they’d made, and I was mad about a lot of other stuff, too, and – yeah. I kind of went off.”

You really went off. There’s no other way to describe triggering the UA barrier on purpose at two am so you could make a crude mural of All Might, Endeavor, Hawks, and Best Jeanist hiding behind a bunch of kids in school uniforms. Shimura is still snickering. “Damn. I’m surprised they call you nonviolent with how bad you hurt their feelings.”

“They had to replace the whole barrier,” you say, and Shimura wheezes. “I’m not trying to be funny.”

“No, but it is funny.” Shimura glances at you over the edge of his mask. “And now you run a coffee shop and make things like this.”

He looks away from you, back to the mural. “Is this something real? It looks familiar,” he says. Before you can answer, his eyes widen, and he says it himself. “Kamino Ward. Why would you paint it like that?”

“It’s how I see it in my head. Or how I feel it. I don’t really know.” You reach out and use the tip of your index finger to highlight one of the buildings that’s still standing in sunrise gold. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know.” Shimura reaches out and touches it with one gloved hand. “People are going to be pissed at you.”

“If they recognize it.” You’re not too worried. “Most people just look at the colors.”

“I recognized it.”

“You’re not most people.”

You instantly wish you hadn’t said a word. Shimura Tenko glances at you quickly, then looks back to the mural. “Yeah,” he says. “I was there.”

Your stomach drops. “You were?” you repeat hopelessly, and he nods without looking your way. “I’m sorry. It’s – insensitive. I’ll take it down –”

“No.” Shimura catches your wrist before you can make contact with the mural. “Leave it. I was gone for this part. It’s a nice view. The horizon, I mean.”

That’s your favorite part, and you’re not even done with it yet. “I still have some stuff to add,” you say. Shimura nods but doesn’t let go of your wrist. You pull at it slightly. “I need this back.”

“Fuck. Sorry.” Shimura recoils like you’ve burned him, then backs away. Way too far away. You’d say he was making fun of you, except you can see his eyes over the mask, and they’re expressive in spite of his complete lack of eyebrows. “Sorry. I don’t usually – touch people.”

“It’s okay.” Your wrist feels tingly where his hand made contact, and there are butterflies in your stomach. He doesn’t usually touch people, but he touched you. “Thanks for stopping me.”

Shimura turns away completely. “I have to work.”

“Yeah. I didn’t mean to distract you.”

“I know.” Shimura slides back into his booth. You turn back to put the finishing touches on your mural.

He’s right about it. In the hour left before you close, at least one customer who trickles in gives you a hard time for putting up something so upsetting. You listen to his concerns, but you stick to your guns, and when he sits down to wait for his order, you see him watching it. Just like Shimura is, the screen of his laptop long since gone dark.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #tenko shimura x reader #shimura tenko x reader #shigaraki tomura #shimura tenko #x reader #reader insert #coffee shop rehab fic #man door hand hook car door #a bisquared production

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gooondocks · 2 months

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no one's ever had me (not like you) — evan buckley.

writing masterlist | askbox

─── summary: when buck meets his high school sweetheart at the ten-year reunion, he learns that their lives may be very different now, but the spark is still there.

─── pairing: evan buckley x gn!reader.

─── warnings & notes: fluffy fluff. no use of y/n, i'm british so probably inaccurate depiction of high school reunions. based on the song 'so high school' by taylor swift bc i heard it and couldn't stop thinking of this idea. crappy ending bc i suck at wrapping things up. enjoy!!!

─── word count: 2.1k.

"DO YOU THINK ANYONE'S DONE US all a favour and spiked the punch yet?"

When the email appeared in his inbox a few months ago — an e-vite, of all things, complete with the kind of graphic design prowess he hasn't seen since the early 2000s — Buck had been pretty intent on ignoring it.

A hundred excuses had bubbled up in the back of his mind, because honestly, the thought of heading back to his hometown to attend a high school reunion made his skin itch. Trapping himself in a sweaty gymnasium, surrounded by dozens of almost-strangers engaged in a vanity contest of 'who's the most successful?' coupled with a shitty DJ blasting 2010's greatest hits?

It's really not what he'd call a good time.

Even if he could've talked himself into it, sharing a ZIP code with his parents for even a day or two was more than he was willing to tolerate. He'd left Hershey in his rearview almost a decade ago, and there's not a fragment of his whole being that regrets it for even a second.

Except.

Except the dates lined up with one of his rare weekends off work. Except when he looked up the flights online, just to see, he'd stumbled across a deal so cheap Buck honestly thought he was hallucinating for a moment.

Except Evan Buckley believes in signs from the universe, and when Maddie gives him that look over lunch one day, even though Buck had absolutely not mentioned the reunion to anyone, it's the final nail in the coffin for him.

He booked the tickets. He told the team he'd be out of town for the weekend, and bought a new shirt, and now he's standing in his old high school gymnasium. He wrinkles his nose at the smell, that sweat-and-hormones stink that never really goes away, and you're sidling up to him at the refreshments table, and the speakers are blaring an old Ke$ha song he hasn't heard in years.

For a moment, he's seventeen again. The sound of your voice slips over his skin like a cool breeze in the desert and suddenly it could be the night of junior prom, and the pair of you have sequestered yourselves in a shadowy corner, laughing at the committee's subpar attempt at an 'Under the Sea' theme.

Buck blinks, and he isn't seventeen, but he flashes you a wide smile anyway as you help yourself to a glass of bright red punch.

"Hi."

He says the word so quietly, he's surprised you even hear it. But there's a sparkle in your eye as you raise the cup to your lips, and he knows you heard him.

You always could.

The last day Buck ever saw you, he kissed you goodbye before you piled into your dad's old truck and drove out of sight, bound for college and big dreams and a future that didn't include him. Your lips had been damp with tears. On his loneliest nights, Buck swears he can still taste the salt on his tongue.

It's been a decade, but you still look so similar to the wide-eyed kid he fell in love with. Your hair's a little longer, perhaps; there's a scar on your chin that wasn't there before, and the dimples around your smile have deepened, but that's all. You're still you. The thought makes his chest ache a little, but it's a good pain.

He wonders if he's changed much. He wonders what you see when you look at him.

"I suspect it was the first thing Marty Brandt did when he got here," Buck adds, louder this time, and you laugh, and he wonders how he went ten years without hearing that sound. "I didn't think you'd be here. Didn't see your name on the RSVP list."

You shrug. "Jem bullied me into it. Emailed my boss to get the time off and everything."

Even as you try to seem annoyed, a trickle of fondness finds its way into your voice. When Buck follows your gaze to the dance floor, it's hard to miss your childhood best friend throwing shapes to an old Maroon 5 song.

"You two still talk?" He doesn't mean to sound surprised, except...

Well. Staying in touch with high school pals hadn't been a priority when he skipped town. Hard to imagine a single one of his classmates he'd want to stay in touch with. Except you.

A grin tugs at your mouth. "Worse. We work together." You tilt your head, still smiling fondly in Jem's direction. "Tried to shake her off, but she wouldn't let me."

He knows a little about that. "Or was it the other way around?"

"Wouldn't you like to know, Buckley?"

He would, actually. He watches you grimace a little at the flavour of the punch when you take another sip, an adorable twist to your mouth that he once knew so well. A decade ago, the sight of your pout could've made him do anything.

"Tastes like half a bottle of vodka," you tell him, and you take another sip even though he knows you never liked vodka. Remembers playing truth or dare at a party in junior year, and how you threw up in the bushes afterwards.

Buck had held back your hair and tucked you against his side afterward, letting you snuggle into the warmth of him while you slept off the worst of your hangover.

There's a distance between you now, but it's comfortable. Buck tucks his hands into the pockets of his jeans and the pair of you migrate over to a shadowy corner of the gymnasium, away from the prying eyes of your former classmates.

"So," Buck says, as the DJ switches to another song, "how have you been?"

He can't help but wince half a second later. Seriously? How have you been? He's never been to a high school reunion before, but he's seen plenty of movies, and he's pretty sure he's hitting all the marks of being a fucking cliché.

To your credit, you don't laugh at him. Cheeks flushed the prettiest shade of pink Buck has ever seen, you manage to bite back the giggle rising in your throat.

Buck wants to sink through the floor.

"I've been okay," you tell him, swirling your glass of punch absently. The corners of your eyes crinkle a little as you smile at him. "Life, y'know?"

He does. He really fucking does. "Any partners? Kids, spouses, anyone I have to worry about punching me?"

You only mentioned Jem earlier, so it doesn't seem like you brought a date, but he isn't sure he'd love it if he found his partner cosied up in a dark corner with their high school sweetheart.

God, he hopes you didn't bring a date.

There it is, a flash of— something, there and then gone in an instant. Buck hasn't thought about high school in years. Hasn't paid any mind to the friends he left behind. Once or twice, his thoughts have flitted to you, though. The one that got away. Where you are, if you were happy.

When he landed in LA, when he finally settled into his place at the 118, he'd thought of you. He'd hoped you managed to find a place you belonged. A family that loved you like his did.

He thought this would be awkward. Running into you again. Your name hadn't been on the RSVP list, and he'd been so relieved, because what if there was some uneasy tension between you? Buck isn't sure he'd have been able to cope with that.

There aren't a lot of happy memories from his childhood. His adolescence left a lot to be desired, but— you. A bright spot in all that grey.

An uncomfortable reunion might have ruined that. Those memories are cherished, for Buck; locked up tight in his battered heart.

But it's not uncomfortable, or awkward, or uneasy. Ten years and ten seconds have slipped by like sand in an hourglass and he wonders if there's been a moment in the last decade where he felt this at ease.

You sigh at his question, quiet and fond. "There was an engagement," you say after a moment, chewing on your lower lip, "and a break-up. Two years ago, now. Amicable, but..."

"But it still feels like you lost something." Buck knows that feeling intimately. It's been a long time since Abby left him, and even though he's over her, the memory of it still stings sometimes.

You nod. "Yeah. One minute you're going to marry someone, and then you're not. Doesn't really matter why not, in the end. Still hurt a little. Not anymore."

"No?"

You smile at him. "No."

Buck isn't sure how much time passes, how long you both remain huddled in that dark corner as the world continues to move around you. The DJ keeps churning out a series of early-2000s hits that he's fairly sure is just one of those throwback Spotify playlists, and you both make jokes when the Class President gets on stage to give a cheesy speech, and he tells you all about the ill-advised escapades of his early-twenties.

Crashing his bike, dropping out of college. He glosses over the unsavoury parts of his youth, but the way your eyes soften, he knows he isn't fooling you. He never could, not when it mattered. Stories about Peru have you in stitches, and a particularly messy tale about his time as a ranch hand makes you laugh so hard, half a glass of punch ends up your nose.

He missed that. Making you laugh.

Warmth unfurls in his chest when he looks at you. It's the kind of familiarity people associate with coming home, except it was dread he felt stepping off the plane, and uncomfortable memories prickled at him as he drove through the streets of his hometown.

You? You've always been that for him. Warm. Safe. Home.

"You've heard all about my wild twenties. What about you?" he wonders, as the pair of you drift back to the refreshments table, seeking snacks that don't taste like cardboard.

(Buck manages to find a bowl of chips that aren't completely stale, so he'll call that a success.)

"Oh, the usual," you shrug as you refill your glass. "Finished college, got a job and an apartment and a cat and a fiancé. Lost the fiancé, got another cat." You take a moment to flash him your lock screen, a picture of two calico cats curled up on your couch. "Think I traded up there, huh? Anyway, got a new job and moved out West about a year ago."

"Oh, really? Where'd you go?"

"California, actually. I'm in the History department at Berkeley."

He blinks at you once, twice. Something inside his chest goes zing. "I'm in LA!"

"Well maybe I'll have to come down and play tourist for you sometime."

There's a coy tilt to your mouth that he's seen before, and something pleasant skitters down his spine. Your cheeks turn even rosier, and Buck suspects the spiked punch is only partly responsible.

"Maybe you will," he says.

His number hasn't changed since he left Pennsylvania, and maybe that's another sign, too. The shitty music starts to wind down, and his old classmates start to stagger out into the parking lot, and when you kiss his cheek and promise to get in touch, he wonders if there's such a thing as second chances.

It isn't the same. He isn't seventeen and you're different people now. This isn't making out under the bleachers at a football game or skipping class to take a ride on his motorcycle. You're adults now, all grown up with a whole host of other problems, and it isn't the same. It isn't.

Except.

The next day, Buck's phone buzzes right before he boards the flight to Los Angeles. The number isn't familiar, but when he opens the message, he cannot fight the grin that creeps onto his face.

Hope you get home safe. I'd hate to have to find a new tour guide x

It's not the same, because he isn't in high school anymore and neither are you. But as he switches his phone to flight mode and tucks it back into his pocket, a giddy feeling sweeping through his chest, he can't help thinking that maybe this could be better.

#evan buckley x reader #evan 'buck' buckley x reader #evan buckley fanfiction #evan buckley imagine #evan 'buck' buckley imagine #9-1-1 fanfiction #9-1-1 imagine #9-1-1 fanfic #* faye's work.

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lactoseintolerentswag · 11 months

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Rise Characterizations Pt. 6!!!!!!

After the turtles and Splinter, here we have the girl Ever. She's pretty spunky, I had fun analyzing her for writing.

April O'Neil Character Notes

Language Habits:

Uses bae/aave, something she could have passed on down to Raph and Mikey as they also use bae/aave

Most notably uses "mm-kay" in place of "okay"

Uses a lot of filler language, interjections, or onomatopoeia. Think "mhm", "uh huh, uh huh!", "oh yeah!"

"Ah nuts" is her go-to disappointed phrase

Grits and or strains her teeth when she's frustrated

Uses her own name (the full "April O'Neil!!!!") as a battle cry, or brings her name as a motivator i.e. "the one and only April O'Neil will solve this case!"

The more worked up she the louder she tends to be, this extends to stronger emotions such as passion or panic

Over text uses emoticons

Refers to splinter as "splints"

Refers to the turtles as "the fam"

Refers to villains/antagonists through insults rather than their names

Personality:

Adrenaline junkie, as she's often the first to jump into a fight. She also laughs in the face of danger, and was seen maniacally laughing and smiling the entirety of the gumbus episode

Jack of all trades. April has a lot of skills she's picked up from various jobs or personal adventures she's seeked out (like canoeing through the sewers in a hazmat suit and earning a crane license)

Wild and blunt. April is Loud, and rarely ever afraid to share her opinion. This can either make people draw back from her bluntness or be drawn in by her excitableness

Self-conscious. Despite her strong sense of self-esteem, April is still often motivated to impress the popular kids at school or at least fit in. She doesn't want to be seen as the weird kid, or associated with the weird kids

Persistent. April is always quick on her feet to hit back whatever comes at her. She has a good set of problem-solving skills that she's gained from all the skills she's picked up

Loyal. She's always willing to back up the turtles, and goes out of her way to keep Splinter happy with her company. Once she finds a friend it's hard to pry her away

Unlucky. Mostly in absurd or mundane ways. She has that whole curse with her birthday, but things don't often tend to go right for April O'Neil, which contributes to the disasters that cause her to get fired all the time

Miscellaneous:

Code-named "yellow submarine" by raph

Tends to have information on wifi passwords, secret exists, and access to keys from all the jobs she's been hired and fired from

Has a preference for blunt objects as weapons (most commonly bats, clubs, pipes)

Uses the environment in a fight in general

She's been part of the "warren stone fanclub" since 2010, and keeps all her ids in her wallet

Likes unicorns and cats (as seen through her brief texts with sunita and her pajamas)

Loves laser tag

Can beat Donnie at video games (if he didn't use cheat codes)

"sherlock_corn" is her handle online

Lives in an apartment/flat with her mom (showed onscreen briefly), that has its own bathroom

Has a subtly mentioned interest in fantasy, as noted by Donnie she tends to download fantasy rpgs and freaks out over cosplay wizards

Just an end note to all of you who aren't black, some offensive tropes I would stray from is making April the angry black girl. This is one of the most common stereotypes of black women in media. I wouldn't mistake April's passion or loudness for aggression. It would be a disservice to dilute her lively character into familiar but ultimately harmful tropes in media.

I am in no way saying you cannot portray April as angry, this is a powerful emotion and it should be explored with black characters, but I am saying that should not be the base of her character. Because well that's not even April's base. She's centered around fun and thrill-seeking.

Wikipedia (yes I know, But they have proven to be more dependable these past years) has a good article on the angry black woman stereotype, so that would a good place to start research on what to Avoid. In my splinter post I also provided some links on doing research on writing poc.

---

Anyway!!! We've ended our analysis trip of the main cast in s1. Next I'm thinking of picking apart our antagonists :]. Gonna take a break to work on my own fic, but stay tuned if you found any of my other posts helpful! It's been a fun ride with you all <3

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt april #rottmnt april o'neil #character analysis #writing #fan fic #long post #critter talks #she's the weird girl of all time #she's like lilo to me

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staylovesmiley · 4 months

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Collision— Chapter 4

ᯓᡣ𐭩Pairing; Stray Kids x afab!reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᯓᡣ𐭩Summary; You’ve known him for years but you never would have guessed the charming guy you’ve been online gaming with has been an idol this whole time. (masterlist here)

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩Warnings; implied afab reader (only they/them pronouns used for reader), mild angst?, pls I haven’t written fanfics since 2018 patience and kindness is appreciated

By the time you both arrived at the dorms, the rest of 3racha was returning from the studio.

When they saw how red and puffy your face was from your tears, the events of the early morning hours causing exhaustion to settle in your eyes ten fold. “Oh my god Star are you okay?” Jisung asked with wide eyes as he dropped his bag by the couch and made his way over to you, Changbin on his heels. You nodded weakly as the rapper placed his hands on your shoulders while looking you over. “Their apartment flooded.” Chan said as he carried your duffle into his room. “They are gonna crash here until it gets fixed so be on your best behavior.” He said, pointing a finger at the two men causing Changbin to practically howl in protest that he was always on his best behavior. You sniffled, giggling lightly as his outburst. “You can stay as long as you need to….let me know if there is anything I can do to help, yeah?” Jisung gave a warm smile, rubbing your arms gently to comfort you before bidding a goodnight and retiring to his room. You spoke softly as you wished him sweet dreams, Chan returning to guide you into his room. “You can stay in here tonight until we can work out a better arrangement.” Nodding, you looked around before meeting his eyes. “Thank you again for this….I didn’t know who to call-“ the oldest gave a reassuring look before patting the top of your head. “You did the right thing calling me. Now get some sleep, yeah? I’m gonna go crash in Bin’s room.” You were going to protest but found yourself too tired to argue, allowing him to tuck you into his bed before you quickly fell into a heavy slumber weighed down by the exhaustion all of the stress and crying had caused.

Once Felix had woken up, news of your arrival at the dorms had traveled fast as Jisung had told Minho who told Hyunjin who then blabbed to Felix and Jeongin when they had met up for breakfast at a cafe near by. Hurt, confusion, and concern all flashed across the younger aussie’s face at the news that something had happened that caused you to crash in the 3racha dorm so suddenly. Minho hadn’t mentioned to Hyunjin why it was you were staying there and so their imaginations ran wild with the possibilities. Felix felt himself growing a bit jealous the more he thought of how you had gone to Chan when you could have called him. He would have dropped everything and came to help you, you should have known. His two breakfast dates bid him farewell, deciding to do some shopping after their meal leaving the blonde to his own devices has his mind spiraled.

He wasn’t sure why he was feeling this way, it was just Chan and you and himself were only friends. His feelings for you were strictly platonic, weren’t they? He sat at the table alone in the cafe for some time, wondering why you hadn’t reached out to him yet to tell him what had happened. Against his better judgment, he returned home but instead of going to his own dorm he found himself entering the key code to the 3racha abode coming face to face with a shirtless Bangchan sitting at the dining table eating a bowl of cereal. “Sup Lix! I didn’t know you’d be coming-“ The younger huffed, dismissing the older man’s words while looking around for you. “Where are they? Where is Star?” Chan’s brow furrowed in confusion, sighing as he remembered he lived with two of the most gossiping members in their group. “In my room, still sleeping. They really wore themself out last night-“ “WHAT?!” Felix shrieked, eyes wide as suddenly the shirtless appearance of his mate didn’t seem as innocent and common place. “Geez, Lixie not like that…what do you take me for?!” He rolled his eyes, standing to approach the younger cautiously. “Is everything okay?” The blonde shook his head, looking down at the ground as embarrassment from his outburst flooded over him. “No- yes? I don’t know- why didn’t they call me?” Chan nodded, understanding now. “Are you upset they called me instead?” The younger Aussie nodded softly, not able to look him in the eyes. Chan immediately enveloped him in his arms, rubbing soothing circles on his lower back. “Hey, it’s okay. It happens, a little jealousy is normal. We are only human-“ Felix scoffed, rolling his eyes a bit. “I wouldn’t say I’m jealous…I just don’t get why they’d call you when I’ve known them longer-“ Chan pulled back, tilting the others chin up so he would meet his eyes. “Hey, I said it’s okay. I get it- but we need to talk about it, yeah? It’s clearly been bothering you.” Had it been bothering him? All of the teasing and flirting they would do with you to fluster you. He didn’t think it did, until now as he thought harder on it. But then he remembered how you would flush the most adorable shades of pink just at catching his eyes on you, no words necessary, and it didn’t feel as upsetting knowing that he could get such a reaction from you with less effort. Though hearing you had went to someone else in your time of need that wasn’t him, it made him feel like maybe you didn’t trust him to take care of you. He saw the things stay would write about him being soft, delicate, submissive- maybe you thought he couldn’t protect you like Chan could and that hurt him.

Felix sighed and rested his forehead against Chan’s. “Maybe I was a little jealous they called you instead….I don’t know why-“

Chris looked at him incredulously. “Lix, babe…you’re joking, right?” The blonde pulled back to meet his eyes with confusion. “You like Star, sunshine….you are seriously still like this even with everything we all went through?” Felix groaned, burying his face in the crook of the older’s neck “god don’t remind me- I was so stupid and clueless back then.” Chan laughed, shaking his head. “Seems like you still are, Lix. Why don’t you go see if our guest is ready to wake up, yeah? I’m sure seeing you will cheer them up.” It dawned on him that he still had no clue what had happened, and he got the feeling Chan was wanting him to find out from you and not himself. “O-Okay….” He stammered out, worried as to what could have happened. Bangchan pressed a gentle kiss to his temple before pushing him in the direction of his room where you remained soft asleep even after his earlier outburst.

The sight of you curled up in the middle of Chan’s bed, face hidden under your arm as you let out soft little snores caused his chest to clench tightly. He figured the older must be onto something as the butterflies erupted there moments later when he sat carefully on the edge of the mattress and rubbed between your shoulder blades gently until your began to stir, blinking away the sleep as you looked up at him with a pout. “F’lix?” You mumbled, still groggy from your slumber. He chuckled, pushing the hair out of your face as he beamed down at you. “Yeah, I heard Chan brought you here last night….what- um…what happened? Are you okay?” As the events from the early hours returned to you, you felt your lower lip begin to tremble. Before the tears could fall, the blonde was pulling you to his chest, smoothing down your wild bedhead as he whispered as to not startle you. “Hey hey it’s okay….you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to I’m just worried about you..”

Once you had calmed down, you nuzzled your face into his neck causing him to blush a deep crimson and kiss the top of your head. “I woke up and my whole apartment was flooded-“ you spoke softly, hesitantly as you held onto your friend for comfort. Sighed in relief that you weren’t hurt, and that it was something fixable, he relaxed visibly against you. “Chan told me to stay here until it’s fixed but- Lix I can’t impose on you guys like that it’s too much.” You looked up at him, eyes wide and behind them your brain worked overtime to try and come up with a solution. “Yeah you’re right, you shouldn’t stay here.” He said, nodding in agreement. “W-What?” You asked, looking up at him worried as you felt your fears of being a burden to them were being confirmed. “You should stay with me instead. My bed is bigger and I live with the better cook.” He teased, poking your sides until you were squirming around with fits of laughter. “Okay okay OKAY- Lix cut it out I can’t breathe!” You squealed, hitting lightly at his chest to get him to back off. As his attacks died down, along with both of your laughter he could help but stare down at the position he had you in.

There you were, splayed out under him and breathing heavily from the intense tickle fight. He himself was practically sitting on your lap, taking in the way your chest rose and fell rapidly and becoming transfixed by the motion. “Um- Felix? Hello, earth to Felix!” You said, it now being your turn to poke at his side until he snapped out of the trance you had put him in. “S-Sorry, lost in thought. Let’s go get you something to eat, yeah?” And with that he was standing up and pulling you with him so fast you felt the blood rushing to your head much too fast. “Woah slow down, comrade you’re gonna make me faint-“

Your words caused him to freeze, successfully making you run into him where he had been pulled up and behind him. “Oh- sorry just have a lot of energy today I guess….” You giggled, shaking your head at him before reaching up to ruffle his hair. “It’s okay Lix just take it easy, yeah? I lost a lot of fluids last night from crying my eyes out.” You hummed, patting his cheek before making your way to the kitchen where a still shirtless Chan was sat scrolling on his beloved laptop.

You stopped dead in your tracks, taking in the sight with wide eyes. “Oh, morning sleepy head.” He beamed, looking up from his work to great you. “Morning….um- thanks again for everything last night, I really appreciate it.” Seeing Felix coming out of the room to join them, Chan shrugged and sent a wink your way. “Any of us would have, it’s what we do.” You felt arms circle around your middle from behind, giggling at how endearing you found the blonde’s clinginess. “Want to go grab something to eat then check on your apartment to talk to the front desk?” He questioned, looking down at you where you tilted your head back to meet his eyes. “That sounds good, yeah….I think I’d feel a lot better having you there for emotional support.” This caused the freckled man to blush and beam with pride, feeling much better than earlier with those words alone. “Alright then let’s get going! Do you wanna change first or-“ looking down at your pajama clad appearance you bit your lip and nodded, rushing back to Chan’s room to change quickly into whatever it was you had managed to shove in your bag in your distraught state before rejoining the men in the common area of the apartment to head over to your complex with Felix in tow.

“I’m sorry h-how long?” You stared at the maintenance man with complete disbelief, jaw practically to the floor while Felix stood behind you running his warm hands up and down your arms in a comforting motion. His actions helped ground you, holding you in reality as the worker’s words sunk in. “Three months, roughly. There was a lot of water damage no one could have prevented once the leak sprung, along with waiting for the parts to repair the cause of the damage.” You whined, turning around to bury your face in your friends neck, your fists balled up against his chest. “This sucks! What am I gonna do-“ Felix had to fight back the grin threatening to spread across his lips as the idea of you living with him for three whole months. “It’s gonna be okay, you are more than welcome to bunk with me until everything is settled, yeah?” You nodded, sniffling a bit as you trying not to cry yet again as you felt the voice in the back of your mind nagging at you that you were going to become a burden to your friends. “O-Okay…can I go in and get my things I’ll need?” The maintenance manager nodded and stepped aside to allow you into the apartment.

They had already cleared away the pools of water though the floor seemed to squish audibly with each step. Felix helped you pack away your things in the suitcase you had arrived with originally, batting your hands away as you attempted to take it from him when you both went to leave. The only thing he would let you carry was your backpack and even that took you giving him the best set of puppy eyes you could manage causing him to cave and drop the bag from his shoulder and pass it over to you.

Once back at the cuties dorm you set your bags up in the corner of his room while he was out explaining to the others the situation to save you the stress of bringing up the stress again. You were beyond grateful for him, taking a deep and shaky breath before making your way out into the living room where the four men lounged on their phones. You plopped down in the seat beside Felix and curled into his side.

After about an hour of the lot of you scrolling absentmindedly, occasionally showing something to the group or an individual you thought they might like you all heard someone’s stomach growl with hunger. “I think it’s time for lunch- should we order in?” The next few minutes was spent going back and forth over what to eat and where to order it from. Once everything was settled there was a groan of annoyance coming from the oldest in the room as he attempted to place the order. “It says they aren’t doing delivery at this time- someone is going to have to go pick it up because we are not about to go through all of that again to find something different.” You shrugged, speaking up. “I can go get it.” The men ignored you, immediately starting an intense battle of rock, paper, scissors. Felix lost, falling to his knees dramatically as Minho let out a maniacal laugh. “You spend way too much time with Hyunjin-“ Seungmin sighed, shaking his head as he got back on his phone. “Wait- the restaurant is too far to walk so someone is going to have to drive me there!” The Aussie exclaimed, jumping up from where he had crumpled on the floor in defeat. “Okay rock paper scissors for who has to drive Lix to go pick up the food!” You looked at them with confusion, shaking your head. “Wait if one of you has to drive there why does Felix still have to go in and get it?” Jeongin rolled his eyes playfully and a determined look fell upon his face as they began their little rematch. “Cause he already lost, duh. Rules are rules but he can’t drive.” You laughed at that logic, watching as Leeknow lost and he too fell to the ground in defeat with the drama level of a telenovela.

You and the maknaes bid Felix and Minho goodbye as they went to go get you all lunch, settling back in your spots though you were left pouting at the loss of your cuddle buddy. “So you’ve started taking your Korean classes already?” Seungmin spoke up, closing his phone as he set it on the coffee table in front of him. “Um, yeah I did.” You hadn’t had much interactions with the two youngest members outside of hanging out in larger groups so you felt a bit nervous, also setting your phone down to not come off as being rude and not giving them your attention. “Are you liking it so far?” Jeongin asked, scooting closer to you from his side of the couch. “Yeah! Right now it’s a lot of going over the basics I learned a while ago so nothing’s too hard yet but I’m sure it will get a bit more challenging as classes progress.” The two looked at each other before turning back to you. “You already know some Korean?” Seungmin tilted his head to the side curiously, causing you to hold back a giggle as he really lived up to his puppy nickname like this. “Yeah! When I was in highschool one of my close friends lived with her korean grandparents who didn’t speak much english. I was over there a lot, especially during the summers, and so over time I picked up a little bit and even asked Danbi, my friend, to teach me some so that I could communicate better with them out of respect.” Jeongin smiled and nudged your shoulder. “That’s so sweet of you. I’m sure they appreciated it. How come you don’t speak Korean to us at all?” The maknae gave you a pout, resting his chin on your shoulder as he looked up at you. “Well I uh- I’m just worried my pronunciation isn’t very good?” You shrugged, looking away bashfully. “It’s been a long time since I had any practice with it….Danbi and I sort of drifted apart after graduation and so I had no reason to continue to speak it.” Seungmin got up and moved to sit on the other side of you, sandwiching you between Vocalracha successfully. “We can help, you know. Practice with us.” You blushed a soft shade of pink and looked down at your lap. “I-I don’t know what if it’s really bad?” The puppy pouted at you, taking your hand in his causing you to look up at him. “Are you afraid we’ll make fun of you?” He asked, a look of hurt on his face. “No! I mean- I doubt you would it’s just so embarrassing if I get it wrong in front of you…” the two members shared a look over your head before leaning into each side of you. “Getting things wrong is just part of the process of learning, Star…no need to get embarrassed.” Jeongin said, leaning down to meet your gaze.

“We embarrass ourselves all the time have you seen any of the content we put out to the world?” Seungmin spoke with a laugh, softly nudging your shoulder. You turned to look between the two of them as you realized just how close they were sitting. “Okay I’ll go get my workbook then-“ you stood suddenly, the speed in which you moved from where they were both leaning against you causing the two to fall into each other. You giggled an apology before running off to grab what you would need.

“They really are to cute for their own good, Hyung.” Jeongin said with a sigh, shaking his head. “Tell me about it…” the second youngest groaned, burying his face in his hands before the two perked up hearing your footsteps returning. “I got it!” They both flashed you warm smiles before making room once more for you between them.

The rest of the day passed by rather uneventfully, the two youngest members helped you with your work for Korean class until Felix and Minho arrived back with the food. You all went your separate ways after eating, with you and Felix ending up in his room as you sat on his bed on your lap top and him at his desk. The both of you gamed until Leeknow had to come pry you away for dinner. You ended the night tucked safely in the Aussie dancer’s embrace, your back pressed to his chest as you both drifted off to sleep. Skinship came so easily with the two of you, you know for yourself it was due to years of being touch starved. Your family was never very affectionate with you, and you lacked a physical connection with friends since your highschool days leading you to spend most of your time alone or at work. You were comforted in the way both you and Felix both seemed to share touch as a love language, seemingly always being in some form of contact when around each other which did not help the teasing the other members gave him when you weren’t around.

You woke up rather early the next morning, Felix still dead asleep as you slipped out of bed. The air was a bit too chilly for your liking, quickly finding the oversized hoodie Felix had discarded on the floor before slipping it on, you were sure he wouldn’t mind. You made your way out into the kitchen, having been given the tour and explained that you were more than welcome to help yourself to anything that didn’t have a name written on it which was mostly just snacks the others had bought for themselves since most of the groceries were bought collectively as a group to make meals together. You figured a way to say thanks for everything they had done to help you could make them breakfast that morning. You quickly got to work, pulling the hood up and over your head as the dorm was still much too cold and your felt any body heat you held escaping rapidly through any part of exposed skin. Clothed in your baggy sweat pants and Felix’s even baggier hoodie you washed your hands and got started chopping vegetables to mix into omelets, and a simple pancake batter with what ingredients you found in the small kitchen. Mentally you told yourself you were thankful you were staying in the dorm where they are more than just chicken breast as you were sure the pantry and refrigerator were stocked with less variety next door. While you sautéed your veggies, you felt someone approaching from behind and before you could turn to see who it was you heard a voice with a deep rasp from sleep call out a “Morning, jagiya. You’re up early for once-“ before you felt a sharp slap land on your ass causing you to yelp in surprise with eyes as wide as saucers. Upon hearing the much too high pitched response, the perpetrator jumped back as you turned around to face them. “Star oh my god I did not know that was you I am so sorry-“ Minho stood with a horrified expression as he panicked, body tense. You both stood there for what felt like eternity, blinking at each other as neither of you made a move not knowing what to do or say. “You know- seeing it’s you I’m not as shocked but even with all the teasing I don’t think even you’d be as bold to do that with me yet-“ you giggled, attempting to calm him down and show you held no hard feelings as well as to try and dispel the awkward tension that had filled the space. This seemed to work as Minho chuckled, body visibly relaxing as he shook his head and moved to stand beside you. “Can I help you with anything? Whatever you’re making smells delicious.” You shook your head and bump your hip against his. “You can go sit down and relax. I’ve got this, yeah?” The older starred down at you before shrugging and going to the corner where they kept the coffee pot. “I’m gonna make coffee. Want any?” Making a face you shook your head. “No thank you, not a fan of hot drinks.” He raised an eyebrow at you before nodding and pulling his phone out of the pocket of his sweats. “Okay then what do you want? I’ll order delivery from the cafe around the corner. The kids will definitely need some caffeine since we go back to work today and have a lot of dance practice to catch up with.” You thought for a moment before telling him your order while continuing to cook for them. Somehow he managed to get you to agree to letting him help you cook the pancakes (it’s because you burnt one side of the first three you made because the “wait till you see holes then you know that side is done” trick only works for the first side and he took pity on you) and you fell into a relaxed silence before the other three residents of the dorm woke up to the smells of your cooking.

After breakfast you were dragged along to JYPE and sat on one of the black sofas against the back wall, unsure of why exactly they wanted you to tag along and when you had questioned it Minho just made a teasing remark about you being their mascot, with a wink stating you were the one who said you were back when you had first arrived that day they started helping you find a place to live.

You watched, entranced as they danced. Your eyes moved rapidly from one member to the next as they never ceased to amaze you with their talent. When they finally stopped to take a break they all practically collapsed to the floor in exhaustion and you took that as your cue to grab some water bottles and beg passing them out. “Thanks Star, best mascot we’ve ever had.” Minho teased with a cheese grin on his face. You rolled your eyes and pushed on your shoulder lightly, turning to move to the next member when you felt a light slap to your ass from the man much like that morning only more gentle. Everyone’s eyes widened but you only froze for a second before laughing and turning to stick your tongue out at the older who laughed in return. The other members looked amongst each other with differing levels of shock and panic and when you made your way to hand Felix his bottle instead he reached up and pulled you into his lap, clinging to you possessively as he glared at Minho who only laughed harder at the younger’s attempt to look threatening. “Hyung I cannot believe you did that- your butt hunting has gone too far!” Felix exclaimed as he continued to glare while holding you closer and practically wrapping all four limbs around you protectively. “Ya! You’re acting more offended than they are!” He laughed, pointing at the Aussie as he rolled on the floor with his amusement. “I don’t mind, Lix it’s just goofing around you guys do it all the time-“ you said softly, turned to try and meet his eyes. Felix looked between the rest of the members knowingly before clearing his throat a bit. “Star, really I don’t think it was so appropriate….are you sure you’re okay?” You shrugged before looking over at Minho, not catching the looks the others had at you interpreting their constant groping of each other as friendly playful gestures. “I mean I definitively was startled this morning. But that was way harder than-“ “What happened this morning?!” They almost all shrieked at once, all eyes falling on either you or Minho. “I’m my defense I was still half asleep and they were wearing Felix’s hoodie.” He held both hands up, looking at everyone with a smug expression. “You did not.” Chan said, looking at him with disbelief. “Guys seriously it’s fine i think Min is right you guys are more offended than I am about this.” You didn’t seem to get it, and they all sighed as they decided it was probably best to drop it since you seemed to not understand. They all soon got back up to continue practicing, you making your way back to your place on the couch to watch.

Their reactions seemed to weigh on you though, your brain working to understand it all as both Leeknow’s words that morning, his actions, and the other’s reactions, as well as back to that first time you stayed over when Leeknow had whispered to you those intimate details about your dear friend and his tendency to be a bit to noisy in the bedroom, it started to click. Oh- oh? Were you reading into things too deeply or was your previous assumptions not reading into them enough and dismissing their words and actions too easily. You paid attention as the day went on, catching how Chan’s hand lingered on Seungmin’s waist a bit longer than necessary as he moved past him, how Hyunjin draped himself over Han as they took a break to listen to Leeknow explain a move Jeongin was struggling with to him. How at any and every given moment Felix had his hands somewhere on Changbin’s muscular build, whether it be to massage the flesh there or to simply hold onto him, and the looks each of them shared with each other were making you blush from how intimate it all felt. Suddenly, feeling like you should give them all some privacy like these moments were too loving and too personal to be shared with you, you excused yourself to go down the hall to get a drink from the vending machines to allow yourself to process your sudden realization about their true (or seemingly so) relationships with one another.

author’s note: HAPPY PRIDE MONTH EVERYONE ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა˖⁺‧₊˚ I wanna go ahead and say I am not assuming any of the boys sexual orientations here this is just fiction and how I’m choosing to write them to for the narrative of my own story not having to do with reality at all as far as we know. Idols don’t owe us the knowledge of their identities nor does anyone let’s remember that this pride (and always) and respect each other….that being said I hope you like boys kissing boys cause in this polycule everyone loves everyone sharing is caring ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

taglist (if the user is pink that means I was unable to tag you); @softkisshyunjin @coastinglove @palindrome969 @amara-mars @whiteghostt @ihrtlix @queen-in-the-shadows @soaplickerrr

#stray kids #skz #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #afab reader #stray kids bang chan #stray kids lee know #stray kids changbin #stray kids hyunjin #stray kids han #stray kids felix #stray kids seungmin #stray kids i.n #ot8 #ot8 x reader #stray kids ot8 #skz ot8

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dust-tastic-1983 · 20 days

Text

Life with Turbo on the Internet (x reader head canons)

A/N: First ever fanfic(if this counts???) I tried to keep it in character lmk how I did.... lots of "probably"s in this one. I'm very unsure.

Genre: (Wreck it ralph) Turbo x reader headcannons, fluff and shenanigans! (Hehe that rhymed!)

Summery: He totally lived guys. He survived and escaped to the Internet guys. He's alive and well and living in a shitty website i promise guys (hcs of what I think living on the internet with post-movie turbo/kc would be like) based on this post I made.

You guys live in a website Turbo made with his trial-and-error-achieved coding skills… so its kinda shitty and cluttered. But its cosy and its yours so its fine. It'll probably improve the more Turbo improves his skills, anyhow.

As you'd assume, you'll be spending alot of time on racing related websites and games. He probably got himself banned from a couple games either by messing with the code to make himself better or for harassing players. He'll to try to bypass the bans and sometimes he succeeds! And gets you both banned again because he said a swear word in a kids game.

Of course he will go with you to places pertaining to your interests, whatever that may be. He might be less enthusiastic about it than his precious car games but he'll still go with you because he likes hanging out with you❤ he almost gets you banned again though

You need to stop him please

He's definitely an Internet troll. Would purposefully start or stirr drama on forums he doesn't like using throwaway accounts.

Lots of marathoning various games and movies/shows. Someone on tumblr said that he probably watches car crash compilations and like. Yeah. He'd binge watch the shit out of car crash videos and nascar fails. (I hc that he would enjoy Its Always Sunny but for the wrong reason.)

Lay next to him in a bundle of blankets and pillows use him as a pillow he is warm and squishy and soft and touch starved eating snacks and watching "8 most disturbing things caught on dashcam footage" on YouTube. He's probably the type to talk during movies and videos, there are so meny opinions in his little body and he will not shut up. Though is a bit more quiet when sleepy.

yeah ofc you guys would play alot of competitive games together, both racing games and other. He passes out after trying too hard on project diva.

Turbo messed with the computer avatar... things idk what they are called. Trips em up, makes peoples websites crash, etc. Until one of the ad blockers punch him. Then he stopped.

You guys are probably on familiar terms with Knowsmore. Probably one of the first people you and Turbo spoke to when you first entered the Internet, and still speak to since he helps you to get around. Turbo probably would find him annoying, though.

Same with Spamley. Turbo probably hangs around the darknet because of course he would... He probably would try the "Make money playing video games" spiel, success varies. Spamley, despite being a boyfailure, still knows his way around the darknet (barely like he did make that virus guy throw him across the room) Would also find spamley annoying but maybe less so.

Speaking of the darknet, he would bring you along whenever he'd go. he'd hold your hand or arm to make sure he doesn't lose you. Of course he does a myriad of illicit activities. Learning more about programming and hacking, plotting revenge, probably released a couple viruses in websites thatve wronged him, and- 🤢 and🤢 film piracy 🤮 /j

Idk if he'd try to take over another game or if he'd try to find fame another way... I'm still mulling over it tbh.

The artist Blackthewolf17 who drew a picture of turbo and y/n sitting on a bench listening to Spotify. Just think about it.

Use one of those relationship compatibility websites. Results depend whats funnier to you ;)

Regardless of wether you fled with him from Litwak's arcade or met him in the online world, if your feeling up to it, spend the rest of eternity bouncing around the interwebs with him until entropy takes you both to oblivion. It might be fun...

Thanks for reading! ^.^ hope you enjoyed!

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luimagines · 3 months

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SKYLNK Rebooting Up

Another Commission!

They asked for more Android au. They wanted Skydroid but uh- I went with origin story instead. :D

Enjoy.

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

"Testing one two three, Skydroid is now live and active."

The droid blinked open its eyes and looked around its immediate surroundings.

"Perfect, you're online!" I cried and clapped my hands excitedly. "Good morning."

The droid sits up.

"Good to see the core gears and suspensions are working just fine."

"Hello Master, is there a name you wish to register me by?" The SKYLNK model tilted its head innocently and I shook my head.

"I'm not your master, I'm just The Doctor. I apologize for the inconvenience. For now, you'll be simply called Sky until we can send you over to your actual master and they can decide to keep or change your name, ok?" I smile. "I hope you're feeling alright. There are a few simple tests that I want to run by you before we can get into anything more physical and complex. Do you mind touching your fingers to your thumbs and wiggling your toes for me?"

SKYLNK model blinks and does as was told, matching my movements with my fingers and moving his toes.

"Perfect. I just want you to move your head around like this- awesome! Perfect. A lot of this is just checking if your motor controls are still intact and if there's anything that may need recalibrating or fine tuning but it appears to be in working order."

"The physical stuff was fine, it was just his motherboard and coding, you said so." Wild, my CALLNK model, reminds me from the background.

"But that was when we first got him. We need to make sure that there's nothing rusted or out of pace in the times when we moved him..." I pout. I turn to the SKYLNK model again and hold out a hand. "Can you stand?"

The newly awakened LNKdroid takes my hand and gets off of the table. The towel around his waist falls a bit, pooling by his hips but he doesn't notice. I look the other way out of politeness.

My repurposed TWILNK droid comes in and pins the towel for propriety's sake.

"We just need to test some walking cycles and get some more movement out of you. Then it's a few more questions and we can take a break." I explained.

"Because someone hasn't had breakfast yet." My TWILNK model scolds me from the side.

"We're this close to being done! How can I think of eating at a time this exciting!" I reply and help the Skydroid get used to his weight and height once more. He's holding his balance incredibly well and within moments he can walk in a clear circle without help.

"Darlin’, please eat." TWILNK sighs.

"Soon, you worry wart." I wave him off.

"Perfect SKY! Can you go sit once more on the table? We're not done testing you but you would need a quick debriefing of your purpose and mission, ok?" I point to the examination table and watch as he does as he's told, moving with calculated ease and precision.

"Alright, you're in better shape than I thought." I comment and jump in place again. "Ok, here's the thing. You're going to a friend of mine to help out. They already have a WNKLNK200 model, real retro, but he's getting on in years and can't help out as much any more. He's constantly needing tending to and replacements. Not to mention he can't even reach the top shelf. His name is Wind. An adorable kid but he needs to retire from his duties at some point. That being said, and as much we'd like to keep him around, he needs to take on less responsibility. Your job is to keep the house clean, make sure your new owner eats as they should and helping them wherever possible, including making sure they take their meds on time."

"And maybe get them to sleep at a decent time too." Wild pipes up, his arm twitching a bit unnaturally before it swings back into place.. "Wind's programming makes him go to sleep earlier so they're always up at the witching hour despite the fact that they're human."

"Sounds familiar." TWILNK grumbles.

I gape and pout at the larger android. I swear he’s got so much attitude for a heavy duty model. "I'm not that bad."

Neither Wild nor TWILNK have much to say on that front but I can tell what’s firing off their synopsis. Honestly, sometimes their facial expressions give more away than they have any right too. I rolled my eyes. “Regardless, knowing this off the bat would be better in the long run but anything is easier to learn once you're there. Sounds good?"

Sky nods. "Noted. Make sure they maintain a healthy diet with a clean living space and keep a close eye on their sleeping habits."

"More or less. I know you'll adapt as you're there but for a warning, they'll fight for a bit regarding this. They're stubborn but their heart is in the right place." I cross my arms. "If you can somehow get them to spend more time outside as well it would be phenomenal but it's not mandatory. Some sunlight wouldn't kill them...."

"Mistress..." Wild snickers from the sidelines. "You're inside just as much as they are."

"Not willingly! All my work is here! If I had an outdoor spot to do my work, it would be the greatest thing but as it stands I have no space to do that. Besides, what if it all got wet or something? I work with heavy machinery and computer parts." I sighed.

Wild doesn't look away and instead crosses his arms.

His silence is deafening. I pout harder. "I know you're right but I don't like it."

He smirks.

TWILNK says nothing.

I stick my tongue out at Wild and turn back to Sky. "That being said, I'm hungry. Feel free to explore the house and get used to moving again. In an hour, we can see your performance regarding your mission. We still need to test your default databases and your problem solving skills before we can send you over to my friend. But I think all the major tuning is done so we can also get you some clothes finally. Wild?"

Wild nods and moves to go get the outfit we have prepared for him and I gesture for Sky to follow him. "He will give you your clothes. I doubt that I'll need to look at any more panels or your hardware so we should be good to go. And you can have a little more dignity for all of this so that's a bonus."

Sky nods as well and goes after the other droid. His movements are still janky. They can hardly be called robotic. Major components might need more oiling but there doesn’t seem to be any more major issues that would need to be dealt with in the meantime. He’s on the recovery road and will be in working order in no time.

Once alone, I grin and run to TWILNK, having to jump to properly wrap my arms around his neck. "I don't know how you did it but your coding is incredible. Way better than anything I've had to do on my own! This would usually take another two weeks but if it all goes well we can be done by the end of tomorrow!"

I hop down and rub my hands together. "I owe you one. Whatever you want in your room just name it and I'll get it for you ok? As a treat. Oh my god, I’m so excited to give Sky to them. They’re going to be so mad at me. Man, I can't wait to see their reaction!"

TWILNK smiles in that somewhat quiet way of his and turns around. "Can I pick up the mess around the place now?"

"No! I told you, the mess is for Sky to clean. We need to check his programing still and the end result of his own protocol. Keeping Wild from cleaning all this up was bad enough but you are one stubborn man!" I huff and cross my arms. "Don't hate on my process. I swear there's a method to my madness."

TWILNK groans and stretches his arm out. "I'm a household droid too! I hate seeing messes when I can do something about it. Are you sure you can't test this later? Don't you want to live in a clean house?"

"It will be clean, eventually. Even sooner than we think if Sky does a good job." I grin. "And if you programmed him, I'm sure he'll be just fine. And then we give him to his new home and you can clean to your little heart's content, yeah?"

"Mistress-"

"Oh! Before I forget, speaking of my friend they mentioned that Wind's arm is getting a bit squeaky and stiff. That can mean one of two things but I'll need my tools to get the source. I gotta go get those and put them where I can see them or else I'll forget to bring them. If I forget and get there, Wind is gonna have to deal with potentially losing his arm and that just won't do. It'll break their little human heart to see their childhood droid disassembled."

"Mistress, the food." TWILNK groans, putting his face in his hands.

"I'll eat in a minute, let me just do this real quick!" I nearly tripped up the stairs as I scrambled about.

TWILNK groans and watches as Wild and Sky return, the new droid now fully dressed and looking as you would see any other droid.

TWILNK didn't really know what to think of this new guy other than he truly got to see his new mistress in her environment. His last mistress was hardly ever that focused and hard pressed for perfection.

It was sweet, the way this new one fussed over the new droid and made sure that things would have been comfortable despite the android not being able to feel pain the same way humans did... or even discomfort- not to mention that this Sky wasn't even awake to experience any of it.

She looked so happy.

TWILNK looked down at his hands as Wild began to run Sky through the mess that was found in the room. Vaguely, he could register that Wild was explaining what was considered trash and what was considered a tool or something to be used for later. But he couldn’t focus on that. His mistress had even hugged him- tightly.

She complimented him on his work.

The idea made Twilight feel... foreign, like he no longer fit into his own skin and he wasn't sure what he was going to do about it. Or if there was anything to be done.

Again- he was noticing more differences in this mistress than in the last one.

Part of him wanted to ask the young woman about it to see if there was something wrong with his programming or his biocomponents. Granted, she mentioned that programming wasn't her forte, and if there was something wrong with him then there would no doubt be something wrong with Sky and then it would mean that he would have failed his job and as a faulty droid that would mean his mistress would have no reason to keep him.

And he would be abandoned and alone again.

Wild came over and put a hand on his shoulder, watching Sky walk around the place, looking at his reflection and the tools and nicknacks his ever tinkering mistress had around her humble home, gaining information as he went. "He'll be just fine, I think. All his biocomponents were in tip top shape when Mistress found him and even then, there's only so much to do with a blank slate. This friend of hers is practically getting a brand new droid for free. Lucky them."

"What if-" TWILNK started, not wanting to give away the way his thoughts were deviating. "-something's wrong with him?"

Their friend would probably ask our mistress to check it out and then she would try to fix it. If neither of them can figure it out, they can hire a true professional at Hylia.Inc and get their recommendation or support or supplies for whatever might be faulty. Or- and this is the more likely version- they both just let him be and keep him as he is."

"How can you be so sure?" TWILNK twiddled his fingers in a reminiscent version of human nervousness.

"Well I'm here, aren't I?" Wild laughed, gesturing to his marred skin grafting, twitching once more as if on cue to prove his point. "I had missing biocomponents. I had exposed wires. I had vented or straight up irreparable paneling. I was barely functioning when Mistress found me and we both know there's still some faulty coding somewhere but she likes me the way I am. Horrible homemade skin grafting and all. She doesn't want to change me and she got used to it. Her friend keeps their Wind around for sentimental reasons. That WNKLNK was originally meant to help them as a child but humans grow and her friend technically no longer needs him. But he's still around because he’s loved and the humans want to keep him around, even if he's almost falling apart at the seams with how old he is. Our mistress tries really hard to keep him functioning as he should have been as if he was new. She does good work. Sky is in good hands regardless."

"Ok, ok, ok-" I came back, running down the stairs with a small black bag with clinging metal inside. TWILNK recognized the bag. It was my travel tool bag that I always had with me when I went on home visits to check on other droids. "I have my tools, I have my notes, I have my phone and my wallet. I-"

"Haven't eaten yet, ma’am." TWILNK finished, trying to keep his voice neutral. He can’t have any reason for anyone to think that he’s been deviating. He doesn’t want to be left out.

His words startled me as if I forgot he was there and his expression dropped a bit. It broke TWILNK’s mechanical heart.

"But you usually call me-... never mind. Yeah, I'll eat. What's for breakfast Wildcat?" I cleared my throat and tried to smile, looking over at him completely with a scrutinizing look on her face. She looked

The action caused him to freeze, his biocomponents going cold.

TWILNK didn't get it, it was what he was supposed to call her. What was he doing wrong? And how can he keep himself from being sent out again? He didn't want to lose this new home.

I hummed and nodded, not knowing his internal struggles of accepting his place in my home. Wild patted his head for a moment before tilting it to the side. “I made bacon and waffles. I left it on the back burner to keep it warm for you.”

I smiled and dropped my bag of tools onto the floor. “Thank you, lovely. I’ll go get it. Will you show Mr. Sky around the protocols and tests I had pla-”

I look around my workshop again and deflate slightly. It was already cleaner by a long shot. Sky was still picking up little smaller pieces of trash as I spoke. “Oh… I see you already started him on that.”

Wild struck out his hand before angling it behind his head. “Was I not supposed to, Mistress?”

I shook my head. “I was planning to do that later but there’s no harm in getting him already started.”

I bit my lip and looked back at my TWILNKdroid. I really needed to give him a proper name. He deserves just as much. But might have to happen later. “Do you think you can show him how to do some handy work around the house? There’s that faulty sink in the bathroom and a lightbulb or two that need changing.”

TWILNK stands straighter in attention. “Why didn’t you mention something sooner? I could have already taken care of it!”

I smile softly. His conversational skills have improved greatly since he came here. Other “normal” droids would have simply given a yes or no reply and got straight to work. I give him a cheeky grin and put my fist on my hip. “I kept it a secret~ We have a guest in our home that needs to learn how to do this before he can be released into the wild.”

Wild snickers into a very robotic replication of a laugh when I do not mention his name. It’s almost endearing that he’s trying.

TWILNK huffs and crosses his arms. “I will do as you say.”

I wink at him. “Don’t be so grumpy.”

“I’m not grumpy.”

“Grumpus.”

“Mistress-”

I feel like I got struck. Maybe I’ve been pushing too many of his buttons, figuratively and metaphorically speaking. He’s never called me that before but he’s called me that twice already. I know that he used to have another mistress but he never speaks of her. I don’t know what it means to be called that but I’m not entirely sure that I like it.

“Call me by my name or by nothing else.” I bite my tongue to keep my tone in check. I don’t need my droids to learn from my example. I don’t like my order voice but all three androids in the room register it as the command that it is. “Sky, there are some more chores waiting for you once you’re done with this assignment.”

The other droid looks up in a fluidly smooth motion. It’s smack dab in the middle of an uncanny valley. “Understood.”

Wild recovers the fastest and puts a hand on my shoulder. I pat it, but quickly remove it from my body. “I’ll go eat. You’ve improved your cooking a lot. It’ll be a shame if I let it go to waste. Besides… I’m the only one who can eat it anyway.”

I smile weakly and scramble back upstairs, not entirely sure why I felt as weird as I did. And it was entirely the fault of that TWILNKdroid. I didn’t know what to do with him and it was driving me crazy. I had no reason to take him in. But what was I supposed to do? Leave him where he was, dirty and torn and alone?

My very job is to repair and rehouse androids!

I couldn’t do that.

Not to mention that as much as I loved my passion project, Wild, the CALLNK model was beyond repair in a lot of senses. He couldn’t be fully trusted to be left alone in the house just on the off case something gets lit on fire.

Granted, he does it a lot less now that he’s focused more of his attention on cooking and miscellaneous craft projects that I’ve been supplying him with. But I don’t think the problem is solved just yet.

And then there was TWILNK who was a nice addition. I always wanted a model like him but I could never bring myself to make that sort of purchase for myself. When I found him in disarray and on the verge of shutting down, I considered it my lucky day and brought him home with me. I briefly considered calling his previous owner since he was clearly left alone but when I considered the state I found him in, I figured that whoever it was, they weren’t coming back.

Then! I mentioned about rehousing a different droid I had with me at the time to Wild and TWILNK all but shut down again. The poor android went up and down the house trying to find everything and anything he could fix in an attempt to earn his keep to stay here. So now I really couldn’t think about giving him away when I could see that it bothered him.

I took a deep breath and found the food that was prepared for me by Wild. It’ll distract me enough that I could forget about that strange reaction I got from the droids.

I was tempted to question my life choices that brought such broken, anxious and confusing androids- but I’m aware that I brought it upon myself.

I ate in silence.

By the time I was putting the plate in the sink I could hear footsteps coming up to the top of the house. TWILNK and ‘Sky’ were making their way up. TWILNK gestured for the new droid to follow him through the house to where the new light bulbs were kept so he could begin with his basic house up-keep lessons.

Admittedly, it made me smile that the three of them took such simple chores so seriously.

Then again, that was the sole purpose of their existence and the very basis of their programming.

“Should I get started on the dishes?” Wild comes up as well and stands next to the sink.

I shake my head. “I’ll get to it later. Don’t bother. It’s not like it’s hurting anyone.”

He makes a face and crosses his arms. “If neither of us do, your TWILNK model will.”

I sigh and mimic his position. “Then tell him not to.”

“You think he listens to me?”

“Well he certainly doesn’t listen to me.” I deadpan only for Wild to mimic my same expression. I doubt we’re on the same wavelength but he’s already learned so many of my mannerisms that I feel like I can read him like an open book.

Or maybe it’s the other way around.

“Are there other chores that need doing?” TWILNK comes around the corner.

I turn from my confrontational stance but keep my arms over my chest. I still don’t know what to feel when he calls me Mistress. It could either mean that he sees me as his new owner or he was just trying to get on my nerves. He certainly succeeded in the latter.

What can I say? I got used to him calling me ‘Darlin’’ in that farm boy charm of his.

I take another deep breath, meeting the larger droid head on. “Do you plan to do them yourself or are you asking for the sake of the SKYLNKdroid?”

He doesn’t answer me for a while and I all but fold in half. “You-! No! You don’t work!”

“But- my purpose-”

“This isn’t about your purpose. It’s about mine.” I blurt out before clearing my throat roughly. “I mean it’s about his. The SKYLNK’s purpose. He has to relearn everything from scratch so we need to give him the basics even though somebody has been keeping this house in tip top shape that I don’t think I have enough training activities for him to recalibrate himself.”

I give him a pointed look.

And he didn’t even have the nerve to look apologetic.

“It’s in my programming.”

I groaned. “Wild?”

“Yes?”

“Go nuts.”

TWILNK’s eyes widened as the scarred android cheered, running through the house with ‘wild’ abandon.

“You can’t do that! He could destroy the place!”

“I need to have Sky trained.” I pointed out. “If we’re lucky, he only sticks to the kitchen and teases my friend until they comply with actually taking care of themselves but there is no way I can account for anything. Wind isn’t as destructive as Wild, thankfully, but we can put Sky to work and get this place fixed up.”

I shake my head. “Let me take a shower. I have more work to do.”

TWILNK reaches out and grabs me by the arm. I tense for a moment, immediately reminding myself of his supernatural strength even for an android. But he’s very gentle in his hold.

There’s a thought on the tip of his tongue. It shows plain as day on his face but he won’t say it.

“Speak.” I use my commanding voice again. It makes me flinch afterwards. Again.

“Then… what do I do?” He says after fighting the compulsion to not answer me.

I let that process in my own mind. His reactions have been getting more and more human-like. I wonder if he’s aware of it. I shrug. “You can do anything you want to do. You can even help Sky if that’ll keep you from idly twiddling your thumbs. But you cannot do them for him. He has to learn.”

Glass shatters in the background.

Wild cheers

I try to keep the grimace off of my face. I have to trust my own process. There’s a method to my madness. There’s a method to my madness.

TWILNK also winces and sighs. I know I didn’t teach him that one.

Makes me wonder who exactly he was with before I came across him and fixed him up enough to be in working condition again.

“Twilight.”

He turns his attention back to me and tilts his head.

I smile and pat his hand. “I think I’ll call you Twilight. Your model name is a mouthful and you’ve been here long enough.”

‘Twilight’ stares at me. I can hear his fans being put to work as his processors begin to work overtime to make sense of my words. I take his hand off of me. I register that he lets me do that. I pat his cheek and bring my commanding voice. “New Name Registry. Enter: Twilight. Belonging to the house on Creek Circle.”

“...A name.” He whispers.

Interesting, but I don’t can’t question his words before I hear something wooden snap in half. I don’t own many wooden things.

“Can you please check on what that was before Wild breaks any more of my belongings?” I ask him sweetly.

With a new mission in mind, he nods and makes his way over in the direction of the sound and it doesn’t take long before I can hear both Wild and ‘Twilight’ begin to wrestle each other.

I shake my head, tracking my way to find my newest guest and resident of the house. “Sky?”

I find the droid staring at the photos I have of the many androids that have come into my house. They line the wall with various attempts at human expression of happiness. Some more clever bots have their arm around my shoulders in some of them and others give a thumbs up.

Wind is there too with his paneling open in his head as I worked inside. He is the only one with the learned capacity to make a silly face at the camera. Tongue out and all.

“I help them.” I explained. “Some of them have been brought to me from their owners to be fixed while others were brought in from the streets, the thrift shops or the dump to be given a new chance to live their purpose to the fullest.”

“And whEre was I foUnd?” ‘Sky’ looks at me expectantly.

I hum and tilt his chin gently. “I guess I still have a bit more work to do on your voice box.”

I hesitate to answer his question but it’s never paid to hide information from them in the long run. I feel more comfortable telling the repurposed droids about their history more so than the people who buy them off of me. “I found you by the recycling plant. Your motherboard was fried but I got you a new one.”

“Am I to be sold?” He asks next.

“No.” I put my hands on my hips. I hear my other boys knock into a bookshelf in the other room. “Like I said, I plan to give you to a friend. They need the help even if they don’t want to admit it. I think some new company would do them some good.”

He looks back to the photos. I grin and point out the one with Wind, one of the few child droids on my wall. “He’s in the same house I’m sending you in. His name is Wind and he is very special. I’m sure he’s going to want to include you in all the human interactions he’s learned over the last fifteen years.”

“Models are made obsolete once the new generation has come onto the market.” Sky tilts his head with some difficulty. “He is still functioning?”

“Very much so.” I proudly put my hands on his hips, noting the small ways his movements are hindered. Nothing to scoff at though. Easy fixes so far. “And I’ll proudly take credit for that. Even though it’s getting harder and harder to find compatible parts to keep him functioning. I fear that he doesn’t have that long left.”

“I am his replacement.”

“Don’t ever say that.” I nearly growl. The commotion in the other room stops. “He means too much to all of us. He is his own and there is no one that is going to fill the hole he’ll leave behind when there is nothing I can do anymore to keep him functioning.”

Silence follows for a moment.

“But I will admit…” I take a deep breath. “I don’t know how long he has left… And I don’t want my friend to be alone while they mourn. They… will need all the support they can get when that happens. I hope that having another in the house will lessen the fallout.”

Sky takes a moment like Twilight did earlier. I also hear his fans kick up as his processors are sent into overdrive. “...Emotional support… I.. am not equipped.”

“You will learn.” I say, calming myself down. “That’s why I’m sending you before any of that happens. You will know what to do when the moment arrives.”

Wild hesitantly pokes his head from around the doorframe. “...I uh… broke a few things.”

I facepalm- shattering the tension in an instant. “I know. I heard. I could figure it out. What did you break?”

“...A glass… and your bed.”

“What the-”

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #android au #lu sky #lu wild #lu twilight #lu wind #mentioned #first person point of view for a change #this used to be the only way I wrote my stories XD

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