#all of them have fairly detailed backgrounds

[cripplecharacters]

What are your thoughts on people making random characters albino (especially regardless of their race, even if they aren't black? Would it count as fetishizing under certain ways?

I've heard that albinism can appear in any race group, but I'd just like to know how you view just random characters casually having albinism (even without it being sexualized for fetishized)

Hi!

Casual representation is great! Not just albinism, but disability in general. You don't always have to go into complicated details of "how's it like to be disabled". But just because it isn't meant to be a work about a certain condition doesn't mean you shouldn't do your diligent research - if by making random characters have albinism you mean giving them the "aesthetic" and nothing besides that, it would be fetishization or at least just poor representation.

Also, for this answer I'll be talking about oculocutaneous albinism because I'm fairly sure that's what you were referring to, but please be aware that there are other types, like;

ocular albinism (has 3 different subtypes)

Heřmanský–Pudlák syndrome

Chédiak–Higashi syndrome

Griscelli syndrome

oculocutaneous albinism also has multiple (7) main subtypes, with some of them splitting further. You should take that into consideration as well when deciding on what kind of albinism your character(s) has :-) I'm not saying that you should write "X has oculocutaneous albinism, type OCA1b" in your book, but it will help to inform you what their needs and symptoms could be!

First thing I will mention is that the word "albino" is generally not the preferred term and you probably shouldn't use it unless you have albinism yourself. Here's a page on it by the National [USA] Organization for Albinism and Hypopigmentation or this post we reblogged recently.

To make sure that your representation works, you need to understand how albinism works. Even if it's a side or minor character, you should be aware of the symptoms other than just the lack of melanin. Prime example, the extreme majority of characters with albinism in media don't have any vision issues at all, which is not how it is in real life. If you make a character with albinism, you're making a character who is blind or low vision. It's important to research aids and assistive technology, as well as blindness tropes that your character could fall into. For a character that only shows up occasionally, it's still important to show things like a white cane, their light sensitivity, them having to avoid the sun.

If that's your approach to "making random characters be disabled" then you should be good. A lot of disabled characters end up boxed into specific tropes (for albinism: being evil, being emotionless, having magic powers, or being mystified because of their disability) so having e.g. a background character with albinism who has a regular job and shows up in the story from time to time would mitigate that. People with albinism are normal people.

It's true that a person of any race or ethnicity can have albinism! Some types of albinism are more common in certain demographics; for example, Heřmanský–Pudlák Syndrome appears much more frequently in Puerto Rico and OCA4 is almost exclusively seen in Japan, and oculocutaneous albinism is more common in sub-Saharan Africa as a whole (which is a giant area, but there's not much statistics about it). But your character could be of any background to have albinism in general.

In short, if the representation would end at "giving a character white skin, white hair and red eyes*" then it's more fetishistic than representative; that's just using the appearance but ignoring everything else. Keep in mind that it's a medical condition, not an aesthetic. If a character stops having albinism when they dye their hair, tan, and wear colored contacts, then that's just a character who happened to have light hair skin and eyes, not a person with albinism. Good representation of disability means showing the disabling parts of it - again, you don't have to go into detail about how it is to have albinism if the character shows up for two chapters, but show them navigating with a white cane!

*note - in real life, people with albinism don't have red eyes. I mention it because it shows up in media all the time. It just screams fetishization because it's not a thing - most people with albinism will have blue, hazel, or brown eyes.

I hope that this helps - if you have a more specific question, feel free to send another ask. I also recommend going through our #albinism representation tag, it might answer some of the questions you might have! :-)

mod Sasza

[xiphoid-processing]

The Descent of the Tatyar

Finally finished them! the Tatyar in all their glory! Name stuff below cut!

Primitive Elvish = PE, Early, Middle, Late Quenya =EQ, MQ, LQ. Anything with a ? is speculation

Tata [PE?] - Two? (Masc)

Tatiē [PE] - Two? (Fem)

Miwsrawā [PE] - Small-Bodied

Slaiwā-Mbarat [PE] - Ill-Fated

Lugniþexē [PE] - Blue-eyed

Banistirē [PE] - Fair face

Lĭmbĭek [PE] - Quick Spear

Mukudōmē [PE] - Silent Night

Dērāñgur [PE] - Difficult Death

Tankādel [PE] - Firm/Fixed will

Taltāsāmo [PE] - Steady-Minded

Gwiliēr [PE] - One of Peace

Koyyan [PE] - Life-Giver (In the sense of a good healer)

Lisyānībē [PE] - Sweet face

Galmāer [PE] - Flowered One

Ēllilt [PE] - Star-dancer

Ancalimél [EQ-LQ] - Brighest star

Maqaël [EQ] - Handy/Skilled One

Qitinpë [EQ] - Tight Lipped

Tengenwë [EQ] - Knowing

Ruawë [EQ] - Steady

Rainemo [EQ-LQ] - Peaceful one

Illiceníte [EQ-LQ] - All-seeing

[chiropteracupola]

and I awoke and found me here /

on the cold hill’s side.

[sneakerdoodle]

Hey all! I have compiled a small resource on the pressure targets identified by the BDS Movement

I have seen many calls for boycott of organic and organized consumer boycott targets (keep it up ✊🏻), but not a lot of conversation about what "pressure" might look like when it comes to pressure targets.

This carrd quotes the BDS Movement's official directions ("boycotts when reasonable alternatives exist, as well as lobbying, peaceful disruptions, and social media pressure") and compiles some fairly easy ways to follow them for folks like me, who are socially & geographically isolated and may struggle with finding accessible forms of engagement. As such, social media pressure is the main focus. The idea is as follows:

The background information blurb ("What you should know") helps you learn the brief timeline & details of the company's involvement and their response to public pressure so far;

The "Suggested actions" section introduces you to any existing campaigns or calls to action endorsed by the BDS, as well as direct links to the companies' socials, contact forms, and so on;

You are now enabled to publicly shame Google for their complicity in genocide and cite their failure to properly engage with their protesting employees, for example

I hope to receive some input directly from the BDS Movement organizers (should they have enough time and resource to entertain my inquiry), but as of now, this is based on my own interpretation of their guidelines. I welcome any and all feedback on what should be added, altered or removed. You may reach out right here on tumblr or via the email address listed on the carrd.

Please do share this around if this feels worthwhile, and I hope some may find this compilation helpful

[angels-fantasy]

Sweet Confessions

Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader

Description : After a night out with friends, Bakugou decides to tell you something while you two are eating sweet pastries.

Details : 1.8k words, friends to lovers, cussing, reader and bakugou are over 21! readers looks are not specified in any way, but she is a woman. small mention of alcohol.

this is my first fanfic ever, so please be kind! constructive criticism is welcome :)

When Bakugou received a text message from Kirishima inviting him out to eat with the bunch of other idiots, he immediately declined. Though this was nothing new, and it was something his red-haired friend was already expecting. Which is why he had Mina execute plan b.

Raccoon Eyes

Yo Bakugou! Come out with us tonight. You're always locked away in your apartment. Let loose a little!

Bakugou glared at his phone and typed out a message.

Hell no.

UGH BAKUGOU!! You're literally no fun. I can't believe you'd miss out on the opportunity to see this cutie -.-

A few seconds later, a picture was sent. When Bakugou opened it, he saw that it was a picture of you. He brought his phone closer to his face and looked it over carefully. He noticed you were dressed for the occasion, like everyone else in the background, and you were smiling widely at the camera. Mina probably told you to pose.

He must've been looking at your photo for too long because another text from Mina came in.

You drooling or what lover boy? Hurry up and get here so you can make a move already. We all know you like her 🙄.

Bakugou felt his face flush. It was true, he did have a crush on you. And though he never verbally admitted it to anyone, they all saw right through him. Except you, of course.

He clicked his tongue and typed up a quick response before beginning to get ready.

Shut up. I'll be there in 30.

"Woo! We got him!" Mina cheered, leaning across the table to high-five Kirishima.

You looked between them suspiciously, "What are you guys plotting?"

The pink woman had the audacity to look nervous. "Nothing! Don't worry about it."

"Yeah, okay."

As Mina and Kirishima kept whispering to each other, you squirmed in your seat. You knew the other pro heroes at the table fairly well, but not enough to just strike up a conversation like you would with Mina.

"Hey pretty, what do you look so nervous for?"

You turned to the left and were faced with a yellow haired man.

"Oh, hi Kaminari. I'm not nervous, just hungry. They're taking a little long to bring out the food. Don't you think?" You lied.

Thankfully he was kind of an airhead. "Oh yeah I know right! I'm starving. I'm gonna go ask how much longer!" He said and got up out of his seat, leaving you alone again.

You sighed and took a sip of your drink. Since Mina and Kirishima were too busy talking to each other, and you didn't want to bother talking to anyone else you decided to scroll mindlessly on your phone.

Some time later, the empty seat next to you was pulled out and sat in by Bakugou himself.

Your ears got hot at the sight of him. It wasn't the first time you'd met him, you two were good friends after all. But you never got used to how handsome he was. It was like he got better looking everyday. You began to wonder what he looks like under that button up-

"Hey nightlight, what're you staring at huh?" He asked, snapping you out of your trance.

"Shut up! I told you to stop calling me that." You said with false annoyance.

"It ain't my fault your quirk makes you a nightlight." He smirked. You scrunched your nose to hide your laugh, but unknowingly failed since Bakugou still saw it.

His nickname for you was completely harmless, and came from your quirk which allowed you to produce light from your hands. It wasn't anything comparable to a pro hero's quirk, but it did have its uses.

"Kacchan you made it!" Midoriya exclaimed with his big smile.

Bakugou clicked his tongue, "Shut it nerd, or else I'll leave. Give me a menu, yeah?"

Midoriya laughed off his words and passed him a menu, used to his harsh way of speaking.

Dinner went on without any problems, and the food was delicious. Everyone around the table cracked jokes, brought up old memories, and some people had even began drinking alcohol, including you.

Your drink wasn't very strong, but the few you had was enough to have you a little tipsy. Thankfully, you took an uber to the restaurant, so you didn't have to worry about driving.

During dinner, you and Bakugou engaged in a conversation. Mostly about his hero work and the villains he had caught recently.

Once everyone finally finished their food and drinks, they had all begun to leave. Slowly leaving one by one, some in pairs as well.

While you grabbed your stuff, you got on your phone to call for an uber but got interrupted by Bakugou talking to you.

"How you gettin' home nightlight? You better not even think about driving after drinking." He warned.

You brushed him off, "I'm taking an uber, don't worry!"

He grunted in agreement and was silent for a moment before saying, "I'll give you a ride home. C'mon."

"No it's okay! I can just take the uber home. Besides, didn't you drink too?"

"Hell no I didn't. It's not my thing. Just hurry up and accept my offer alright? This is the only time I'll be this nice."

You smiled at his words, knowing he was lying when he said this was the only time he'd be nice.

"Alright then, let's go!"

He smirked and held out a hand for you to hold, which you did while he walked you to his car. He made sure you didn't fall on the way there, and even opened the door for you.

"Wow what a gentleman you are. Do you open doors for all the ladies?" You teased.

"Nah, so consider it special treatment for you Nightlight."

You smiled shyly and wiggled your feet a bit after he shut your door and got into his own seat.

The ride to your house was quiet, except for the occasional small talk. But it wasn't awkward or uncomfortable. It was a comforting feeling for the both of you.

When he pulled up to your place, you turned to him to say goodbye, but instead you said "Um, do you wanna come inside with me? I have some pastries I made earlier..."

He laughed lightly at your words, "Sure, but be ready for me to critique the hell out of those pastries."

You led him inside where you both took off your shoes and coats. You ushered him to sit on the couch and relax while you went to go prepare some drinks and the pastries for the two of you.

While you were gone for a few minutes, Bakugou couldn't help but think about how he was actually inside your house. It wasn't the first time he'd been there, but it was the first time he'd been there alone. Just you and him.

In the midst of his thinking, he felt his phone buzz and he looked at it to see a message from Kirishima.

Shitty Hair

I see you left with your little nightlight ;) Better make a move while you have the chance!!

Bakugou huffed and sent a middle finger emoji, then silenced his phone. He didn't need any distractions.

Finally, you came from the kitchen with a tray in your hands and placed it on the coffee table.

"Here they are! My babies. I hope they're still good, considering they're not as fresh as they were this morning." You said nervously while sitting down next to him.

Bakugou hummed and grabbed a pastry, biting into it. You watched silently as he chewed and swallowed it, anticipating his reaction.

He bit it again, "S' good."

You smiled, "I'm glad you like it. That means a lot coming from you, Bakugou. Your cooking is so good!"

He turned away with a red face, "Of course it is. I'm the best at everything. And why don't you call me Katsuki? We've known each other for years now."

"Oh, I didn't realize you felt that way. Sorry Baku-erm, Katsuki. I just thought you didn't want anyone to call you that, especially since Kirishima doesn't even call you that..."

"Tsk, I feel a lot of ways. You just don't know about it."

Your interest peaked at his words. "Oh yeah? Then would you do the honors by telling me how you feel Katsuki?" You teased.

Bakugou felt himself hesitate before speaking, which is something he never did. Gosh, he couldn't believe this is how he was going to confess to you.

"I like you, idiot."

Your smile fell and your expression formed into one of pure confusion. "What?"

Damn. Maybe that wasn't the right move.

He began to panic and sat up quickly, "Ugh, nothing. Forget about it-"

"No! I'm not forgetting about that." You said while grabbing his hand, pulling him back down onto the couch.

As he sat down next to you in silence, you kept his hand in yours. "You like me Katsuki?"

He huffed and turned away. "So what if I do? It doesn't matter-"

You grew frustrated at his words. "Of course it matters! Stop acting like this is nothing. I need you to talk to me seriously, because I don't want to get my hopes up..."

He looked back at you, only to see your eyes watering. "Hey wait-don't cry. Shit. I'm real fuckin' bad at this, ain't I?"

You laughed and sniffled, "Yeah, a little."

He sighed and squeezed your hand that was holding his.

"I uh, I do really like you. I have for a while. I just didn't wanna fuck up what we already had-" He was cut off by you throwing your arms around his neck tightly.

"You big dummy. I can't believe you thought you'd mess things up."

His eyes widened in surprise, but he still wrapped his arms around your waist. He stayed quiet to listen to what you had to say.

"I actually like you too, y'know. I have for a while now."

He smirked and hugged you tighter. "Thank god. I was almost afraid you'd run out on me."

You snorted and pulled away slowly. "No way in hell would I do that. I just didn't know how to tell you..."

He threw an arm around you and said, "Well I'm glad ya did. 'Cause you're my girl now."

"Don't I get any say in this?" You asked jokingly.

"Nah, you agreed when you said you liked me back."

Extra:

That night, Katsuki decided to sleepover at your place since you two had already made it official. You lent him some mens pajamas you had since you were sure they'd fit him, which he fussed about because he assumed they belonged to another man.

"No Katsuki, these are actually mine believe it or not."

"Tsk, good. If I ever find any other loser's shit in here I'll blow it up."

[sirfrogsworth]

Photo Restoration Project - Part 1

A long time ago, Katrina sent me some old photos of her family I could restore. Her parents have been helping me from afar for years and I really wanted to do something nice for them. Unfortunately my dad got much worse and I pretty much forgot about this project for quite some time.

But then I decided to visit Katrina in Orlando and we discussed having dinner with her parents and I remembered these photos. So I thought I would fix them up so I could present them as a gift in person.

The first and most important photo was from her parents wedding.

Old photo prints can fade over time due to UV light exposure. From what I understand, different colors fade at different rates and red/orange tones tend to be the least susceptible to this fading. Thankfully all of the color information is still there, it's just that the darks are not as dark and the lights are not as light. The dynamic range got squeezed like an accordion. However, if you do a levels adjustment on the red, blue, and green channels individually, you can unsqueeze the accordion and balance everything back to the way it was.

But you can't always save everything and there may be other damage that needs fixing. If something becomes pure white, there is no way to restore that detail. Thankfully I was able to use the new generative fill feature to bring back detail in the dress, the flowers, and the tuxedo shirt.

And because I hate front facing flash and how it makes colors look ugly and sterile, I may have also added a marble floor and pillars.

Next up was a photo of Anastasia, Katrina's mom, protesting Henry Kissinger on behalf of her home country of Greece. This suffered from the same color fading issues.

What made this one a little more tricky was an uneven fading. The left side had to be adjusted independently and the top was even more faded. I had to isolate the trees to bring back their color. And the protest signs were difficult to read, so I enhanced those as well.

Next we have this lovely photo of Anastasia tending to some house plants.

This photo was actually in decent shape. It lost a little contrast, had a little bit of fading, and her top retained almost no detail I could recover. Recovering accurate skin tones is probably one of the most important skills I learned when restoring these photos. I wanted to keep that filmic look of the era while avoiding making people look jaundiced or pale. Lightroom's new masking feature that let's you isolate every aspect of the people it detects in a photo. This made fixing skin tones much easier. I could isolate just her face or her lips or her hair or her eyes and make precise individual adjustments. This process could have taken a great deal longer without this feature. But, I brought back proper contrast and color, added a little bit of detail to her top with gen fill, and hopefully got fairly accurate skin tones as well.

Next up, forward facing flash strikes again in a photo of Mike and Anastasia during Christmas.

Film did not do well in low light. If it was indoors and nighttime, you pretty much had no choice but to use flash. But a flash is a very small, bright light source and this causes a very unflattering result on humans. Today we have much more powerful flashes with rotating heads. We can bounce the light into the ceiling or off a wall and increase the size of the light source to get a more flattering result.

In this photo I wasn't able to do much, so I just balanced the skin tones and brought out some hidden detail and called it a day. It's still a lovely memory and thankfully film has such character that it negates a lot of the unflattering aspects of direct flash.

Next up is some cuteness...

A big priority when editing photos is to make sure the subjects are the star of the photo. And in this one their faces were a bit obscured in shadow. There was also a lot of haze in the background hiding the beautiful vista. Not to mention when I cleared that haze, there was this super faint hint of something in the sky. I can't tell if it was a rainbow, but I decided to believe it was a rainbow. The only thing that I am still struggling with, and this seems to be common with a lot of old photos, is green. Getting a good, saturated, natural green to look right has been very difficult. Everything I try ends up looking toxic or fake. The only thing that ends up looking right with the rest of the photo is more of a yellow-y brown. It's something I'll have to work on as I learn, but as long as the overall photo looks balanced and natural, I'm okay with not perfectly nailing the greens.

Up next we have a lovely scene on a Greek dock...

As far as editing goes, this was pretty basic. I just undid the fading, adjusted the skin tones, replaced the blown-out sky, and made the colors pop. But I think this is actually one of my favorite before and after shots. I just love how such a simple fix brought this scene to life.

A new car is a big deal and Anastasia looks so proud here...

This image has another common issue in addition to the typical fading of colors. It has a yellowish orange color cast. This could have been an issue with the film used or the development process or a chemical reaction on the print. A color cast is a lot like looking through colored glasses. It's like a translucent color material was put on top of the image. This can be a little trickier to deal with, but if you know your color theory, you might already know the solution. Blue is the opposite of yellow/orange on the color wheel, so if you introduce blue to the image it should balance out. Also, add a sky if it was missing.

Next up we have a landscaping project...

This one wasn't too tricky, but there was one interesting issue I had to address. All light has a color temperature. Daylight has a temperature of around 5500K. But the inside of the garage was being lit by reflected light and so that light took on the color temperature of the things it was bouncing off of. So I had to mask out the people and the car and address the color temperature inside the garage to make everything look balanced. Also, the green fought me hard on this one. And with the theme of this picture being plants, I felt I really needed to find a tone that worked. I think I finally got there, but I spent way too much time in the color picker doing trial and error of green tones. Also, new sky.

With this next one I actually did a pretty thorough explanation of how I edited it. But this was probably my favorite puzzle to solve from this collection of photos.

I'll do the abridged explanation...

The physical photograph was printed on a paper with a very heavy texture. And when it was scanned, the light from the scanner bounced off that texture and created a pattern of unwanted highlights.

I was worried this was impossible to fix and I almost gave up on this photo. But after one final Google search I discovered something called "Fast Fourier Transform." It's a mathematical formula that can be used to detect patterns. And the image editing software Affinity Photo, just so happens to have a filter called FFT denoise that helps you remove unwanted patterns from scanned photos.

And thanks to that filter, I was able to remove a substantial amount of that pattern...

Then I did my standard clean up techniques...

Oh, and I decided to try learning how to colorize.

Photoshop has a new set of experimental filters and a colorization tool is one of them. It is not great yet, but it is a great starting place. Instead of having to hand paint every single thing in the photo, Photoshop gave me a base to work with and I could take it from there with traditional techniques.

That's all I have the energy for today, but there are a bunch of cool restorations to talk about. Hopefully you all find this interesting. It was such a great gift to give to Katrina's parents. And spending that time with them and making them happy felt like I was with my own parents again. So we all got a gift in that wonderful evening.

Part 2 coming as soon as I have the energy!

[kozachenko]

[Click image for better quality]

I FIGURED OUT A WAY TO FUCKING MAKE THE IMAGE SMALLER FOR POSTING ON TUMBLR WITHOUT SACRIFICING THE ACTUAL QUALITY OF THE IMAGE OH MY GOD

Ok so, what I did is go into the clip studio paint file, make a new file, copy and paste the group in the original file, merge everything, get rid of the extra stuff outside of the canvas, and then make the flattened image smaller and crop the canvas. Once you have that, export it and you're done. This helps maintain the actual quality of the image and also helps shrink the file size down to something actually postable (if anyone has a better way of doing this please tell me)

[Edit]: Ok I guess posting something to Tumblr just naturally compresses the image a bit more somehow because I'm looking at it now and zooming in too much makes it a bit blurry so I'm still gonna have to futz around with image quality for future pieces oof

Artist's Note:

I'm so glad I figured out a way to do this because I like working on a big canvas so I can get as much detail in as I possibly can. Only problems are how laggy it gets while drawing lol.

I had an idea for a drawing with Reimu and Zanmu because I really like thinking about their potential dynamic a lot. I also wanted an excuse to draw Zanmu again but in my normal rendering style because last time I drew her she was in my more sketchy style with generally flat colours so I wanted to draw her again. Speaking of, looking at the sketch for this is a jumpscare that I never enjoy seeing, like, man am I glad I didn't use those for my final piece.

Also about her spear. I was originally gonna make it like the ones she had in game, but it kinda threw off the whole piece. It was too big, too blue, and too flat, so I just went "fuck it" and gave her a different one instead. My headcanon justifying this is that the ones she uses in game are for danmaku battles whereas in any other fight she just uses a proper yari, or she still uses the yari and just makes it all glowy to power it up, maybe both lol. I pulled as much inspiration as I could from Sengoku era spears, and even put in some blue into the decorative part of the spear and also added a little skull to pay tribute to the original spear. Also, in my research I saw some art of izanami and izanagi making japan and saw that the yari izanagi has had a little decorative tassley thingy on it so I took some inspo from that and just made it one of Zanmu's tassles (Idk when that art was from or if the spear was still accurate to Sengoku period Japan but hey, probably the same reasons Eirin puts little bow ties on her arrows, it's just for personalization purposes).

I love rendering hair and clothes so much omg, while I like the super curly hair Zanmu, the longer, wavier hair suits her better for this drawing (I imagine it only does that like how Ghibli characters hair moves when they feel angry lol). I love making Zanmu's hair all messy and crazy, as well as giving her grey hairs, this woman has aged like a fine wine. Also, if the hem on the ends of her sleeves, top of her shirt, and her pants look like gold to you, that's because it is! It's fairly light so she's not collapsing under the weight, but it's gold! (I don't care how impractical it is, it's just cool). Not the undershirt though, it's made of a gold fabric. I had a cute idea with Reimu's hair to make it have a red shine to it. I also changed up Reimu's outfit so it isn't just a blob of red. I like it a lot when Reimu's skirt and outfit is segmented into different layers, so I wanted to incorporate that.

I tried to draw their hands differently as well, but IDK how noticeable that is. Also, I am super happy with how the side profiles for the two of them turned out, I used to struggle a lot with how to make the side profile of a character actually look like the character, so I'm really happy that they actually look like themselves.

Also added in the tree and rocks in the background as an homage to Zanmu's character art in Touhou 19, just because I was getting kinda stumped on what to do with the background lol.

In terms of a story idea with Reimu and Zanmu, idk why but the potential plotline of Zanmu wanting to ascend to godhood is so fascinating to me. Like, it is very possible that if she just convinced everyone she was a god (which would be very easy for her to do), she would become one in a heartbeat. Also, if she were to become a god, with her ability to return stuff to nothing, could she hypothetically get similar abilities to (Jojo Part 5 spoiler btw) GER? Like, idk about the death timeloop stuff, but the concept has been haunting me every night as I have been trying to find loopholes in GER's ability for a while now ( for no reason in particular). Back to the main topic, I imagine that she would probably tell Reimu that if she were to become a god she would take over the Hakurei shrine since the god there might as well be dead, and Reimu just says to her, "Over my dead body bitch." Like, I have no idea how to summarize their dynamic but like, it's the type of hero-villain dynamic where the phrase "We're not so different, you and I" would definitely be a phrase said during a fight. I think that if another IN style game were to release, Reimu and Zanmu would be in a team together. They could also have an interesting mentor and pupil kind of dynamic. Can you tell that Zanmu has been charging my mind rent these part few months? Like, instead of living in my head rent free, she kinda just uno reversed the whole situation and now she's the one charging me rent. What happens if I get evicted from my own brain? Actually, scratch that, I don't think I wanna know.

[leidensygdom]

AI bros from hell

Hello! Do you have a bit of your time for a story on AI bros and clients from hell? I bring a really fun one!

I met this guy at a con I was tabling at over a year ago, before AI was a thing. He said he enjoyed my art, and inquired me about whether I did book illustrations. I said yes- He was specifically interested in my bigger pieces, the fully rendered and detailed ones. He agreed to send me later a DM to discuss specifics.

For two weeks, he kept DMing me on details about his book, what he wanted, etc. He wanted full illustrations for inside the book as well as a cover, all of them fully colored, painted and rendered. He also wanted illustrations in this style to post on social media to promote the book. I had warned him that something like that would be costly, but he insisted that he needed this to be the best of the best.

Now, I was getting bad vibes from the guy. I shit y'all not, his instagram handle was "The next tolkien". I wasn't however gonna refuse a job opportunity. Now, he finally asked for prices: He had reassured me he was willing to pay fairly for this. Since he's a starting author, I gave him my non-commercial quotes, which are much, much, much lower than the standard for book illustrations. I mean "if you search for how much this costs on google, the lower prices are x5 times more expensive than what I offered".

The guy, upon receiving that, just ghosted me. Immediately unfollowed, didn't reply me with a "sorry, I can't afford it" or "sorry, i was expecting to pay $10 for a full rendered full background several-characters-picture". Nothing.

The other day I decided to search what he was up to. He's now released... THREE books for this series. There's a single review in the first one. Not even written, just a stars one. Also, notably, he had a webpage put together promoting the book, and. Yeah.

All the art is AI crap.

Which makes sense. My guy was very on his high horse about how fantastic of a writer he is, but I guess art isn't really to be compensated fairly. When he saw the "art stealing machine you just pay a subscription for", I'm guessing he was very excited.

So, uh, here's some of the marvelous pictures he generated of the characters, which surely tell you about how great the book is. AI is theft, so I don't give a f*** about reposting it.

I have a lot of opinions about creators who write, draw or make music, who are more than happy to use AI for other stuff- Album covers made with AI, writers using AI crap for book illustrations, artists using AI-made music. It feels like you're sh*tting in any other artistic field and showing how little you respect anyone but yourself. Like, I'll be honest, I don't have interest reading a book from someone who considers that other forms of art aren't real or worth any money. It just tells me you're devoid of any interest for art or humanity.

As an ending note, his instagram description is "More closer to god than to human", which does add to the clownery.

[star-anise]

So I've been watching this series of videos where a research-focused psychologist goes through Jordan Peterson's work to see which of his ideas and arguments are based on solid empirical evidence. I love it, even though she does mistakenly say his background is in counselling psychology (my field) when he's actually a clinical psychologist.

Anyway, that's got me thinking about Jordan Peterson, and how his response to criticism is, "People have been after me for a long time because I’ve been speaking to disaffected young men — what a terrible thing to do, that is. [...] I thought the marginalized were supposed to have a voice.”

So, here's my theory: Young men of the 21st century have grown up in a culture that is specifically hostile and punitive towards them. However, I think that while girls and women can participate in this culture, it is as much or more the work of boys and men. And I think that the problem with Peterson is that he's not particularly good at helping his audience escape the maze they are trapped in--and he's absolutely opposed to any attempt to dismantle a maze that is actually of fairly recent manufacture.

Case in point: The metrosexual.

The word "metrosexual" was coined in 1994 by Mark Simpson, a gay writer whose settings seem to be perpetually fixed at "critique the shit out of it".

"Metrosexual" describes heterosexual men who might be mistaken as gay, because they are interested in things very common among gay men, including: Caring about whether they're attractive; caring about how their hair is cut and what products they use in it; caring about what clothes they wear; working out to make their bodies look better; frequenting nightclubs. To be "metrosexual" was, in some people's opinions, to be a "man-boy" searching for his "inner girl".

To be metrosexual was, in some ways, to be called someone who looked gay.

The term didn't really catch on until the early 2000s, when media became briefly obsessed with talking about which celebrities were "metrosexual" or not. In that era of hotly divided opinions over the acceptability of homosexuality and queerness, it was implicitly asking, "Who looks gay? Is he gay? Tell me, fellow broadcaster: How gay does this guy look to you?"

(They got to have their cake and eat it too. A liberal audience, desperate to gather as many LGBTQ+ people and allies as possible in their race for 50% acceptance of gay marriage, cherished any signs that people with social clout might be on their side. And a conservative one, watching the same discussion, would heartily enjoy seeing a rogues' gallery of degenerate Hollywood types paraded before them, their every effeminacy pointed out in loving detail.)

Which of course got us: The Retrosexual!

When everybody's helpfully compiling lists of all the things a man can do that look gay or unmanly, dudes who don't want to get the shit kicked out of them by homophobes know all the things not to do!

Therefore, being "manly" became strictly defined by what was off-limits. To be a Real Man meant you shouldn't care about whether you're attractive, or what soap you use, or how your hair is styled. You shouldn't enjoy dancing or get too enthusiastic about music. A Real Man cares about sports and beer and being on top! Dominant!! A WINNER!!!

And, so like, here's a secret: In Anglophone culture, we are very affected by the Puritan legacy that says pleasure is inherently sinful. Vanity and pride--caring about how you look and whether you're attractive--are literal gateways to the Devil. Gluttony, and therefore seeking pleasure at all, is another such. And in Puritan religious theology, women are inherently more sinful. Yes, it goes back to Adam and Eve, and how Eve was tempted into sin first. Long story short, things associated with women became associated with sinfulness, and sinfulness became associated with effeminacy. And for centuries, you haven't even needed to be religious to drink these attitudes from the groundwater.

Okay, that's not the secret, this is the secret: Pleasure is not inherently sinful.

And liking how you look and feeling attractive and paying attention to your sensuality and your emotional life and connecting with art in a real and vulnerable way can feel really good, if you're able to handle it well.

Being raised to be a Real Man in a world where masculinity is perceived to be actively under threat is so uniquely painful, I believe, because every attempt to define yourself as "not gay" means denying yourself one of life's pleasures, and telling yourself you never even wanted it in the first place.

And then those desperate to be Real Men found a way to take some of those things back in what is surely the most painful context possible: They are allowed strictly as tools of your heterosexuality and masculine need for dominance. You are allowed to care about grooming and dancing, etc, purely as a strategy in playing a game called "Getting Girls", where you either score or you don't, where not scoring means you're worthless and unlovable, and scoring is often... strangely unfulfilling and certainly not enough to fill the aching void inside of you.

The mistake both Peterson and his fanbase make is that they get to this point, and then think: The reason I feel so empty inside is... I just haven't gotten enough girls!

Maybe some guys get out of the maze by finding a woman who is allowed to care about things like affection and love and dancing and looking nice, and their connection with her lets them express all the other parts of their souls that didn't fit in the Real Man box, but can come out in roles like Boyfriend or Father.

But humans aren't telepathic, so relationships can only "fix" you so much as you're willing to do the work of nurturing your own soul in a safe environment, so for a lot of men the maze never ends, and sometimes they don't even get the fleeting joys of relationships or sex, since they're so fucked up about them!

At this point, I as a queer woman am like, "Solution's obvious! Dismantle the maze."

And Peterson, who has worked his whole life to achieve the status of Best Maze-Runner in All of Christendom, is clinging to it like, "NO! DOWN, YOU DARK CHAOTIC MOTHER! THIS MAZE GIVES MY LIFE MEANING! THIS MAZE CONNECTS ME TO MY FOREFATHERS! I CANNOT LIVE WITHOUT THIS MAZE!"

At which point, like... what can you do but just leave him there?

At least he's not in my area of specialization. The world would be too unkind if I had to deal with him in any professional capacity. I wish Clinical Psychology all their continued joy of him.

[trans-cuchulainn]

let's be more positive about books for a while! here are some queer historical romance novels that i've been rereading recently that i think do something interesting with making characters feel historical in their mindset and worldview, but are also fairly progressive, diverse queer books that are, frankly, a delight to read

this is by no means exhaustive and to be honest i could put almost anything by cat sebastian or kj charles on a list like this so this is purely the highlights of what i've reread in the past week to take my mind off work, and why i think they're interesting from this specific angle

cat sebastian, the ruin of a rake (turners #3)

this is technically the third in a trilogy but they're only very loosely connected, so you don't need to have read the others if you don't care about knowing who all the background characters are. the others are also good though

why it's interesting: features a character who has had to painstakingly study and learn the rules of polite society in order to claw his way up to respectability, and is now deploying those skills to help another man repair his reputation. shows the complexity of those rules, the social purposes they serve, and the work that goes into living by them, as well as the consequences of breaking them. also explores some of the financial side of aristocracy, and features a character with chronic illness (recurring malaria following repeated infections as a child in india) whose feelings about his illness are very relatable without feeling overly modern.

kj charles, society of gentlemen series.

this trilogy is closely related plot-wise and best read in order. all three explore cross-class romances and characters struggling to reconcile their political views and personal ethics with their desires, in the aftermath of the peterloo massacre, with a strong focus on the political role of the written word. first book is long-lost gentleman raised by seditionists / fashion-minded dandy teaching him to behave in society; second book is tory nobleman submissive / seditious pamphleteer dominant who've been fucking for a year without knowing the other's identity; third book is lord / valet and all the complicated dynamics of consent there with a generous side-helping of crime.

why they're interesting: close attention to the history of political printing and the impact of government censorship and repressive taxes on the freedom of the press; complex ideological disagreements that aren't handwaved as unimportant; examination of trust, consent, and social responsibility across class differences and in situations with problematic power dynamics; most of the characters are progressive for their time without feeling like they have modern attitudes. the second book, a seditious affair, deals most strongly with the revolutionary politics side of things, but all tackle it to some extent.

kj charles, band sinister.

look i'm probably biased because this might be my favourite KJC. it's a standalone about a pair of siblings: the sister wrote a gothic novel heavily inspired by their mysterious and scandalous neighbour whose older brother had an affair with their mum (causing scandal); the brother is a classics nerd. the sister breaks her leg on a ride through their neighbour's estate and can't be moved until she heals so they both have to stay at the house and find out if the neighbour is really as scandalous as he seems.

why it's interesting: discussion of atheism and new ideas about science and creation (very shocking to the brother, who is the viewpoint character); details of agriculture and estate management via main LI's attempt to grow sugar beet, as well as the economics of sugar (including references to slavery); "unexpurgated" latin and greek classics as queer reference points for a character who nevertheless hasn't quite figured out he's queer; material consequences of society scandal

bonus: wonderful sibling dynamic and a diverse cast including a portugese jewish character, which i don't think i've seen in a book before

i will add to this list as i continue to reread both of their backlists! (bc i have read them all enough times and in close enough succession that they blur together in my head unless i've read them very recently)

[threadbaresweater]

if music be the food of love, play on

Nanami Kento x reader. You're the proud owner of a new music store that just opened up beside Kento's Bakery, a beloved oasis on a busy street of a quaint small town. Nanami is cold and unwelcoming when you first meet, but as the weeks pass, he discovers that there's a world of music and happiness right at his doorstep.

Tags: bakery owner Nanami, female musician reader (main instrument is piano); lots of technical talk about music; lots of food mentions (it's a bakery au, afterall); fluff, Nanami doesn't have a sorcerer background, Nobara and Haibara as supporting characters, first kisses, little bit of pining, smidge of angst for Nanami's back story. I've been nursing this for months and finally found the time to finish it today. Before you ask about a part two, please know that it's being considered, though it will be slow based on how long it took me to write this.

See end notes for details on the music mentioned throughout the story and an explanation of the title. 6.5k words. Dividers by the lovely @/cafekitsune.

While most of the city is still fast asleep, Nanami Kento unlocks the front door of his bakery and steps inside, ready for another day of creating the neighborhood's best loved bread and pastries. He works alone until his front of house staff arrives a little before 6:00 a.m., when it's time to open to the public. Every morning is the same– by the time he flips the little sign on the door from Closed to Open, there's a case full of fresh baked pastries that have each been handcrafted with loving skill by Nanami's hands. It's meditative for him– ingredients, measurements, time, routine, a well-loved butcher’s block table, intoxicating aromas and his favorite music playing on an old record player. He has an affinity for the classics: Vivaldi, Brahms, Chopin, Tchaikovsky. But on weekend mornings, when the strict weekday regimen is more relaxed and free, it’s jazz. 

The storefront is small, the floors made of old pine planks that groan underfoot, and there's room for one small table for two in front of the window that faces the street. There are a few framed prints of famous artworks on the walls, a well-loved spider plant hanging in the corner, and a small wooden shelf with the daily newspaper and a few old cookbooks. Behind the cash register is a cutaway window where Nanami's kitchen is nestled just beyond. Customers come from miles around at all different times of the day– the morning commuters who build an extra fifteen minutes into their routine to stop in for a cup of coffee to go and a savory pastry wrapped in brown paper, the afternoon crowd who call to order sandwiches ahead for themselves and their coworkers to eat in the park on their lunch break, the evening crowd that stops to grab a fresh loaf of sourdough or rye to take home for dinner. By the time the last customer has left for the day, the case is empty and the cash register is full. An overnight baker comes in around 8 p.m. to begin prepping and proofing for the next morning, and Kento departs for home.

He appreciates the routine. It's predictable and comforting, and he thrives on knowing that he's still making a difference in the world– or, at least, in his little neighborhood. Owning a bakery is not a glamorous existence, but it’s honest work. His staff is competent and efficient, and he pays them fairly. He’s never failed a health department inspection– his kitchen is pristine and organized, with fresh ingredients and well-kept equipment being of utmost priority. It took him months to jump through all the hoops; health, utility, and zoning inspectors paraded through the store, nitpicking at every small detail until it’s all up to code. Nanami had little patience for all the red tape, but he held his tongue and signed all the papers and paid all the fees. He hired and trained a handful of workers and opened for business on a sleepy Thursday morning.

By the time the little music store comes to life next door, he’s been in business for over two years. And he’s thriving. Amid the other small businesses– a florist, an artist co-op, a jeweler, a few specialty clothing boutiques, a candy shop– he’s respected and loved, though the rest of the owners agree that he’s a bit of a grump. Hard to talk to, rarely smiles or makes small talk. Perhaps none of them have ever really given him a chance to say anything. Or perhaps Kento doesn’t really want to say anything to them. For all intents and purposes, he seems happy with his lot.

You purchase the store next door to Kento’s at the end of September. It takes a few weeks for the finer details to be secured, but the day you move in, it’s sunny and unseasonably warm. Nanami watches from behind the counter as the box truck you rented pulls up and takes up two parking spaces in front of his bakery. The dough he’s kneading bears the brunt of his frustration as he continues to watch.

You and two men get out; you survey your parking job and shrug your shoulders as if to say this will have to do. The truck is large, and there isn’t a lot of room in the alley behind the store, so it's really your only option. With a worried nibble of your fingernail, you turn and look in the window of the bakery to see if anyone’s watching. The glare on the glass makes it hard for you to tell, but Nanami watches you with a deep frown as you motion for your movers to start unloading the truck. For a moment, it looks like you’re going to come inside, but you change your mind mid step and go to unlock the door to your own store instead.

Nanami finishes the dough he’s working, dusts off his hands on his apron, and decides it’s time to confront you.

“Mr. Kento, is everything okay?” the counter attendant asks, concern etched into her features. “Are you–”

“I’ll be right back,” he says, without making eye contact. Onto the sidewalk he steps and crosses his arms, looking from your giant truck and over to your store, mouth slightly open, brows arched. He’s clearly annoyed, and he’s about to make it known when you bounce over to him, extending a hand in greeting.

“Hi! You must be Kento. I’ve never been to your bakery, but I’ve heard wonderful things.” You tell him your name, even though he doesn’t ask. And when he doesn’t take your hand, you sheepishly pull yours away, feeling a little deflated.

“You’re taking up two parking spaces.” It’s all he offers. 

You scratch the back of your head and huff a little laugh. “Yeah, sorry about that. The alley is so narrow, and I wasn’t sure if–”

“I receive deliveries out back twice a week, in a truck of a similar size. None of those drivers have ever had a problem fitting.”

Nodding, you stammer an apology, then call out to your movers. “We can park out back, you guys! He says there’s plenty of room!”

Nanami seems to relax, but only a little. “This is customer parking.”

You scoff, but you feel your face grow hot. This definitely isn’t the way you’d hoped to meet your next door business owner. “Look, I said I was sorry, okay? I’m not sure what else you want me to do.” As you start to say you’d like to buy something from him, the truck roars to life and you snap your lips shut with a short nod. Pleased, Nanami retreats back inside just as one of his customers pulls in to claim one of the spaces your truck left.

It takes hours to unload the truck, and days after that to sort through everything you’ve brought with you. You don’t hear another word from the baker next door, and you’re quite content with being left alone to organize your store the way you envisioned. There’s much more than you’d realized– stacks of sheet music, instruments you’d picked up at auctions and thrift stores that needed a little TLC, boxes of records and CD’s and even a few old cassette tapes, and an old upright piano that had been yours since the tender age of four. Your grandmother taught you to play on this piano, and now, it’s your turn to pass on the skill. Deep down, you know it’s a little crazy and overly-ambitious to open a music store and attempt to teach piano lessons, but you want to try. If worse comes to worst, you could always hire someone to tend to the store while you teach.

As the weeks go by and autumn settles in, word of your shop travels through town. You aren’t terribly busy yet, but you have a few regulars from the local university who like to raid your record collection from time to time, and you teach about a dozen piano students on a weekly basis. There’s generally a lull in business in the early afternoon, so on a particularly cool October day, you decide to lock up for a few minutes and head next door. You haven’t seen Nanami since the first time you met, but you’re hoping he doesn’t kick you out when he sees you at his counter.

A little bell above the door signals your arrival. Inside the bakery, it’s warm and inviting and smells like coffee and your grandmother’s kitchen. You order a drink and a croissant and make small talk with the counter staff. She’s young and smiling, seemingly happy to be at work as she goes about making your coffee order. You look around, noting the finer details of the store– the handwritten tags on the different varieties of bread, the old world feel and warm, yellow lighting. For someone whose first impression left you a little disenchanted, he certainly knows how to create a charming atmosphere.

As you go to leave, you hear your name called from the kitchen. You turn around just as you tear off a piece of the croissant to stuff in your mouth and meet Nanami's eyes, chewing in wide-eyed wonder. The flaky, buttery, melt-in-your-mouth texture of the croissant makes you want to moan in delight. But you're also gobsmacked that he remembers your name.

You swallow, then offer him a wide smile and a thumbs up from the hand that holds your coffee. "Kento! Nice to see you! I didn't know you were here today," you demure. 

He is not impressed. "I'm here every day."

"Oh, right– being the owner and all."

"How do you like it?" he asks, giving a subtle incline of his head toward the pastry in your hand.

"Wha– oh, this?" You purse your lips and kiss the air. "Delectable. Delightful." You bite off another piece, and some of the flaky dough flutters across your cheek. "I should have come over weeks ago."

Something in his demeanor softens. It's so subtle that you'd probably have missed it if you weren't watching him so closely, anticipating his next move. "I wondered if you ever would, considering our first encounter."

You scoff. "That's old news. I was over it an hour after it happened."

There's a hint of a smile that lifts the corner of his mouth, and he pushes his glasses up with a floured finger. "Yes, I suppose it is."

For a brief moment, he considers asking about how business has been going for you, but ultimately decides against it. You take a sip of coffee as the cashier looks between the two of you, busying herself with wiping down the counter while trying to appear nonchalant. "Well," you begin, hooking your thumb over your shoulder, "I should probably head back over. I have a student coming soon. Nice talking to you, Kento!"

His interest is piqued. "Student?"

You nod, chewing on another mouthful. "Mm-hm! I teach piano lessons."

A golden brow raises, and his brown eyes gleam behind his wire-rimmed glasses. "I had no idea."

You laugh. "That's why you should come and visit me! I haven't had the most warm welcome in this little neighborhood, and you're partly to blame for that."

"I thought you said that was old news," he deadpans. 

You throw him a wink and use your elbow to open the door. "Later, Kento."

You visit once or twice a week, then every day. It becomes part of your morning routine to visit, and you know it's no good for your wallet, but you can’t resist. Eventually, the counter staff stops charging you for coffee. “It’s on the house,” Nanami calls from his station one morning. You leave an extra tip in the little jar by the cash register, and he scowls at you. You laugh and wave, then head back to your store, pleased that you seem to know just how to get under his skin.

You bring him a record next time you come. Vivaldi– The Four Seasons. You’d been at an auction over the weekend and thought of him when you found it. You slide it across the counter and tip your head toward the grumpy baker in the back. “For your boss,” you tell the cashier, whose name you’ve learned is Nobara and that she’s in school for graphic design but she’s been shadowing Kento and learning the art of baking. 

“He won’t take it,” she whispers, though her mouth betrays her when she grins with you in a conspiratorial sort of way. She slips it under the counter and leans forward, lowering her voice even further. “I’ll make sure he hears it, though.”

You sip your coffee and meander toward the window while Nobara sneaks her way toward the record player that’s playing some pretentious Bach etudes. She rolls her eyes and pretends to yawn, then winks at you and lifts the needle. 

“What happened?” As soon as the music stops, Kento calls from the kitchen, though you can’t see him from where you stand. You and Nobara share a wide-eyed moment while she slides the Vivaldi record out of its sleeve.

“Record’s over!” she replies. “Just getting another one out.”

You stifle a giggle behind your palm as she drops the needle. A few revolutions of static fill the small space, then the triumphant fanfare of Spring makes your heart leap with familiar excitement. 

Kento steps out from the kitchen, dusting his hands on his apron. It’s only the second time you’ve seen the entirety of him, as most of the time his lower half is obscured by the wall behind the cash register. He’s taller than you realized, with broad shoulders that strain against the cotton of his button up. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and you can’t help but notice the well-defined muscle in his forearms and the thickness of his fingers. He looks from you to Nobara, then back to you. He’s not amused, but he isn’t exactly mad, either. You wonder if this guy has ever smiled at all.

“Vivaldi,” he says. “This isn’t my record.”

“It is now,” you say. Nobara grabs a broom and sweeps under one of the tables, and Kento steps a little closer to you. The music plays on, and you can’t tell if he’s listening and doesn’t want to ruin the vibe or if he truly is at a loss for words.

“How much do I owe you?” he asks, reaching in his back pocket, presumably for his wallet.

You shake your head and smile at him. “It’s on the house. Now we’re even.”

“I didn’t realize you were in my debt.”

“Coffee. I haven’t paid for a cup in almost two weeks. I wanted to give you something in return.”

He knocks on your door just after you've locked up on a cold, rainy November afternoon. 

“That’s not necessary,” he says, and if you didn’t know any better (and you really don’t) you’d think he was offended. He pulls a couple of bills from his wallet and holds them out to you. “Really. The coffee isn’t a big deal.”

You take a couple of steps backward until your shoulder butts into the door. The little bell above you jingles merrily. “Neither is the record!” And before he can say another word, you’re trotting back to your territory, leaving him with the triumphant sounds of Spring and your mischievous smile emblazoned on his psyche.

"We're closed!" you shout from the back, not bothering to see who's at the door.

"It's Kento," he calls, fitting as much of his body as he can under the awning to avoid getting any wetter than he already is.

You smile to yourself and go to let him in, sweeping your arm in a grand gesture. "Welcome to my humble shop, good sir. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance."

He doesn't even crack a smile, but steps over the threshold and dries his shoes on the welcome mat. For a moment, he doesn't speak, only looks around at your haphazard organization of goods. You watch him curiously, filing away a few pieces of sheet music before fully turning to face him.

“How do you like it?” you ask.

“Quaint,” he answers, not meeting your gaze. You notice for the first time that he’s carrying a brown paper bag, and he approaches you, wordlessly holding it out for you to take. 

“Aw, thanks, Kento.” You accept it with a smile and stick your nose down in the bag, inhaling deeply. 

“Rosemary,” he offers when he sees you lift a brow, trying to place the scent. 

“It smells incredible.” 

“You give piano lessons.” It’s a statement, not a question. You chuckle lightly at his abrupt change of subject. Either he’s incredibly socially awkward, or he doesn’t waste time on trivial small talk. You think it’s probably the latter.

“Right. We talked about it before. Why? Do you have a niece or something that wants to learn?”

He cocks his head at you, still expressionless. “No. I do.”

THe silence between you stretches on for just a beat too long, making the air tense and awkward. Nanami’s eyes don’t leave your face, and you find yourself stuttering out some kind of affirmative sound.

“Do you have an opening in your schedule?”

“I have a few!” you say. “What’s a good time for you?”

Nanami looks at his watch. “There’s no time like the present. Is this time of day usually free for you?”

“I–” You laugh sheepishly, but gesture for him to follow you to the back of the store where your little, slightly out of tune upright piano sits, surrounded by shelves of method books, theory worksheets, and volumes upon volumes of music through the ages. “I usually use this time to practice my own stuff, but I could make time for you.”

He slides easily onto the old wooden bench and inches it back, away from the keys, to accommodate his long legs. To say you’re surprised when he begins to play scales would be an understatement. He’s a little clumsy, using the wrong fingers on the wrong keys some of the time, but he keeps a steady tempo as his hands move up and down the octaves. 

“You didn’t tell me you knew how to play,” you murmur, sitting in the chair you have placed to his right. Your teaching chair. Your newest student watches his hands, a lock of his golden hair falling over his forehead as he tilts his chin downward. You cross your legs and smile fondly. 

"I took lessons as a child," he says quietly. "But I didn't keep up with it once I went to high school." He stops abruptly, then turns to you. "I'd like to refresh, though. Maybe learn a new piece or two."

"Of course!" From one of the shelves to your right, you pull out a volume of simplified classical pieces, thumbing through until you find one suitable. You lean forward and place it in front of him. "How's your sight reading?"

"Poor," he frowns, but he begins to pluck out the melody line, slow and deliberate. 

"That's your assignment this week, then. I'll give you a book for home practice, and when you come back next week, be prepared to play one or two songs for me. Focus on the mechanics, the fingering, the tempo. We'll add in dynamics when you feel you've got it."

He continues to play, his left hand pressing against the pages to keep them from falling shut. "What's your fee?"

You answer without hesitation. "Bread."

He raises a brow as if to ask if you're serious. "Bread?"

You nod. "Bread. One loaf per week. Doesn't matter what kind, though I'm partial to a well-made focaccia."

"Bread is hardly sufficient for your services."

"I'm trying to be neighborly here, Kento. Indulge me."

"Fine. One loaf per week. And I'll buy my own sheet music."

"That's not necessary, I have–"

"I'll buy my own sheet music," he reiterates. You snap your mouth shut and give him a swift nod. 

If his demeanor as a student is anything like his demeanor as a business owner, you're in for one hell of a ride.

The days grow short as winter settles in. With the holidays just around the corner, Nanami's bakery grows busier by the day with custom orders for parties and other social events, and you're busy preparing students for their first studio recital. Despite his busy schedule, he still visits you every Thursday afternoon and astounds you with the progress he makes. You wonder how he finds the time to practice, especially now, during his busiest season.

You've learned a few things about him during your time together. He's not much of a talker, preferring to keep his private life private. But when you do manage to get a little bit of personal information out of him, he gets a faraway, melancholy look in his eye, like maybe some part of him is stuck in those memories of a life long past. He’s divorced. It was a childless, loveless marriage, one where his ex-wife chased more after her own pleasure than their mutual enjoyment in more ways than one. He worked for years as a financial advisor, and when the divorce settlement came, she took her share of their assets and moved across the continent. He soon began to feel suffocated by the endless hours he spent at the office, so he took up baking as a hobby. What began as a way to distract himself from loneliness turned into a lucrative business opportunity; he opened the bakery with part of his retirement fund and never looked back.

His favorite composer is Beethoven. He appreciates the moodiness of the music, the complex and haunting melodies that seem to speak to a part of his soul he's buried long ago. You want to ask him why he never pursued music, but he beats you to the punch. 

"There was a time as a child that I dreamed of being a concert pianist," he says quietly. He's playing the same two measures of a Beethoven piece, just the left hand, committing the sequence to muscle memory. 

You hum and tilt your head. "What happened to that dream?"

He grunts, frustrated, though with the passage of music or his memory, you couldn't say. "My father. 'You won't make any money as a musician', he'd tell me. I said I didn't care about the money, so he found other ways to discourage me."

You're angry at his father on his behalf. It's true, the life of a musician isn't all glitz and glamor, but it's fulfilling work. The friendships formed and the memories of performances and late night jam sessions are worth more than any measly paycheck you might receive. It might be a romanticized way to think about it, but it's not unreasonable to find a way to make a modest living from music.

"So you studied–"

"Finance. Numbers. Spreadsheets and accounting. Math and music aren't really all that different when you break it down," he says. "Of course, you can't put emotion into algebraic equations," he scoffs. He lifts his hand from the keyboard and turns to look at you. "But you can with bread."

You nod. "It's true. I'm sorry you didn't have anyone to encourage you to follow your heart."

He pauses, lips slightly parted as if he wants to say something retaliatory; but he sighs instead. "So am I."

You're struck suddenly with an idea, and nearly knock over your chair to open one of your cabinets. Nanami watches carefully as your fingers flip through different books, your eyes alight with excitement and maybe a smidge of mischief. "Found it!" You nudge him with the book as you sit on the edge of the bench to his right. "Scoot."

"What's this?" he asks as you set the music in front of the two of you. 

"Play this with me," you say. You grab the book and bend the spine so that it lays a little more flat. "Look. It's in C Major. It's not fast. And your part is simple!" When he looks at you, skeptical, you laugh. "It's sight reading practice! Come on Kento, don't be scared."

It isn't the music that he's afraid of. It's the proximity of you, sitting mere inches away from him on the same bench. It's your shoulder rubbing against his, the light floral scent of your perfume, the way the setting sun slants in from the front window and makes your eyes shine. He swallows thickly and tears his gaze away from you to study the music, ghosting his hands over the keys without actually pressing them.

"I'll take care of page turns. You control the pedal. Ready?"

"As I'll ever be," he says.

"Alright. On my count. One-two-three-four–"

It isn't perfect by a long shot. You get through the first few pages without much difficulty, but Nanami's capacity for sight reading isn't quite up to par, and he grows frustrated that he can't keep up with you. He stops after an unsuccessful attempt at a set of quick sixteenth notes and shakes his head. 

"What's wrong?" 

"I need more practice," he murmurs, watching your hands as you continue playing. 

"You were doing fine!"

"Not as good as you."

You laugh, incredulous. "Kento, I've got years of practice on you! Give yourself a break!" You swat playfully at his shoulder and start to slide away from the bench, but he takes hold of your wrist. You freeze, and the smile falls from your lips when you see the way he's looking at you. 

"I'll pay you for the extra time if I can stay a little longer." I want to get this right. For you.

When you settle back in beside him, he releases his grip on your wrist. The loss of warmth and pressure takes your breath away. Your tongue feels to heavy for your mouth when you agree to let him stay. "You don't have to pay me. Let's work this through."

You spend the next hour writing in numbers on the sheet music to guide him on which fingers to use on which keys, which passages are important to the call and response with your part, where to pause, where to speed up. The piece in its entirety is long; four movements, a total performance time of over forty minutes, but you plan to concentrate only on the first. Nanami is attentive and asks plenty of relevant questions, but as the evening draws on, you find it hard to concentrate on the music. Stifling a yawn with the back of your hand, you glance at the old grandfather clock that stands near the back door. 

"I think that will give you enough to do this week, don't you think?" In the beat of silence that follows your question, your stomach gurgles. Embarrassed, you rub a hand over your abdomen. "Sorry."

Nanami closes the book and checks his watch. "When did you last eat?" he asks.

"I had an early lunch. Breakfast. Brunch?" You giggle at yourself and shrug. "A while ago," you admit.

He's at war with himself, and it's written all over his face. There's guilt for keeping you so late, annoyance that you didn't stop teaching him at a reasonable time. There's a thankfulness in the way his brows knit together, though, and a tender admiration for how dedicated you are. He also wants to take you to dinner, but he doesn't want it to be a date, and he doesn't want you to think that he's asking you out because he doesn't want to overstep any sort of student-teacher relationship.

But he owns a bakery that's stocked with food, whose employees have long gone home for the evening. 

"Come with me." 

You begin to protest. You know what he's going to offer, but you're tired and a little frazzled, and you know you won't be good company for much longer. "Kento, I appreciate it, but–"

"Let me make you something." 

You sigh, but your stomach has more to say. 

Nanami lifts a brow and quirks up the corner of his mouth. "Come on," he says, "before I change my mind."

The sidewalk is dusted with a glittering swirl of snow when you step outside and lock up. The street in front of your shops is barren and dark, save for a lone, flickering street lamp and a biting cold winter wind. You wish you'd thought to grab your coat (or at least a scarf), but Nanami is quick to unlock his door and usher you inside, his hand hovering near the small of your back, barely touching. You're immediately thankful for the warmth of his bakery. Even now, with the ovens off and only the quiet hum of the refrigerator, the atmosphere warm and welcoming. You roll some of the tension out of your shoulders and look around while he goes straight to the record player and puts on an album. This one is different than his usual fare; the crackle of the needle on vinyl satisfies you in a way you can't explain, and soon you're surprised to hear the croon of Louis Armstrong.

"I didn't take you for a jazz fan," you muse, following him behind the counter. You feel like you're being let in on one of the world's best kept secrets, like you really shouldn't be here, even though you were invited– no, told– to come. Nanami pulls out a stool and instructs you to sit, and you do, though you're itching to help in some way.

"Sure you don't need me to do anything?" 

He looks at you over the rim of his glasses, then uses his index finger to push them up the bridge of his nose. You take that as a no, so you settle onto the stool and listen to the music while he works.

"You know, for it to be a real exchange of services, you should teach me how to bake." 

He continues to assemble two sandwiches with cold cuts of meat and fresh tomato and some kind of pesto spread that makes your mouth water. The sound of the serrated edge of a knife cutting through a loaf of crusty bread makes your stomach growl again. Nanami scoffs. "I'm not a good teacher."

"Bullshit. I bet you're amazing."

"I'm not patient. I thought you'd be able to figure that out from the way I study piano." He sets a plate in front of you, then pulls out another stool, settling in adjacent from you at the other side of the prep table. You wonder if it's not customary for him to eat here. Something tells you that he likes to keep this space pristine when he's not using it for its intended purpose, but you choose to ignore it. 

"You've got to have a little patience stored in there somewhere." You point to his heart and smile. "Doesn't bread take hours from start to finish? Pastries, too? And pies, and cookies and stuff?"

"Cookies don't take hours," he says. "But you do have a point with the bread and pastries. If you really want to learn, I'll teach you. But not tonight." He nods toward the sandwich. "Eat. I know you're hungry."

You eat. The first bite is a little piece of heaven; you expected nothing less, based on the other things you've eaten from his bakery, but this is on another level. Maybe it's because you haven't eaten in hours, or maybe it's because you're exhausted. Maybe it's because the man sitting with you made it for you and you didn't have to cook or decide what kind of takeout to get, but you'd swear it to be the best sandwich you've had in your life. 

You don't talk much between bites, and neither does he. He, too, seems exhausted by the work he put in, but not in a way that has him feeling defeated. It's a sense of accomplishment, a tired sort of pride that comes from concentrating hard on a project that means something to him. You let the music fill the silence, you sip a cup of fresh-brewed coffee (even though you know you'll regret drinking caffeine so late), you let your spine curve as you lean on the table, feeling full and satisfied.

You offer to help him clean up. He insists that you leave it, that it's late and you should go. You pick up your plate anyway and stick out your tongue as you dance away from him and over to the sink. He grabs your wrist for the second time tonight and you look at his hand, then up at him as he tugs you gently toward him, close enough so that he can take the plate from you with his other hand. The fluorescent lighting does little to conceal his expression; a lock of his hair falls over one eye, where you see the dark half-circles in the skin underneath. He's tired. And it's not just because he spent the evening poring over music, nor is it because of the hours he keeps. You think he's just perpetually tired from the hand that life has dealt him, and you wish in that moment that you could help him rest. 

"I said I've got it," he murmurs, and you suddenly realize you're closer to him than you'd thought. So close, in fact, that you feel the warmth of his breath across your cheek when he sighs at your stubbornness. There's barely an inch between your chest and his, and you catch yourself staring at his neck, wondering idly what it might feel like to run your nails along the stubble on his jaw.

You whisper, "Okay." Your lips feel dry, so you wet them with your tongue; it's an unconscious reflex, but when you see Nanami's eyes flit to your mouth and his cheeks bloom with color, you realize that he reads it in an entirely different way.

Not that you mind. 

He sets your plate in the sink, never letting go of your wrist as he pulls you in even closer. He breathes through his mouth, softly, and he uses his other hand to tilt your chin upward, honey brown eyes dancing across your face. You search his face in kind; your heart is in your throat, and you feel his energy radiating all around you. Testing the waters a bit, you lean in further until the tip of your nose nudges his cheek and he closes his eyes as his hand slips around your waist.

He can't breathe when your lips touch his. You're so tentative and soft, plush silk that presses against his mouth and makes him yearn for more of you right away. There's something otherworldly that happens in that moment; you've shared kisses with a handful of people in your life, but none have ever felt quite like this. You think about the romance books that you read as a teen, where the kiss would be described as electric, charged, all-consuming, like some kind of magic spell was cast over the characters and they knew in an instant that they were meant to be. 

You knew how foolish it was to believe in those kind of stories, yet here you were, standing in the middle of Nanami's kitchen, kissing him while he kissed you back, with soft jazz floating on the air, your fingers tracing across his jaw just as you'd daydreamed about only moments ago. His kiss is slow and deliberate, his tongue gentle and languid as it passes over yours and touches the corner of your mouth as if he's savoring the taste of you.

You're first to pull back, your head light, your chest fluttering as you take in a gulp of precious air. Nanami's forehead rests against yours, fingers pressed lightly against the pulse at your neck. 

"You should go now," he whispers, though it's the last thing in the world he wants you to do. It's dangerous for you to stay. He isn't sure he'll be able to control himself much longer in your presence. 

You nod and give his waist a squeeze as you pull away, and the fatigue of the day begins to set in. Nanami thumbs at your bottom lip before letting you go, watching as you clumsily fumble for your keys in the pocket of your jeans. 

The back door opens suddenly, bringing in a gust of cold air and shimmering snow flurries, and you both jolt as the night baker steps inside. He, too, widens his eyes as he sees the two of you standing there. Nanami cards a hand through his hair and clears his throat while you fish out your keys, laughing nervously.

"Mr. Kento! You're here late," the baker says, looking between the two of you as it dawns on him what may have just happened. 

"We were– I was just leaving," Nanami says. "Let me wash up, then I'll be out of your hair."

The baker smiles. "Nah, I got it. Go on home. You look tired."

Nanami begins to protest, then stops himself. "Thank you, Haibara. I'll see you in the morning."

He guides you out through the front, stopping to turn off the record player. Outside on the sidewalk, he grabs your hand, thumb running over your knuckles as he smiles at you. A genuine smile, the first one you've seen since you've known him.

"Goodnight. And thank you," he says. 

"No need for thanks," you demure, squeezing his hand. "I had fun. And the sandwich was delicious. You spoil me, you know."

He kisses your forehead, then dips down to meet your lips once more. Sweet, chaste, but lingering, as if he wants to commit the feel of it to memory.

"If you’re serious about learning to bake, we can start when you're ready." Tomorrow? Is tomorrow good for you?

"I'll let you know." How about tonight? Right now? You begin to think of ways to rearrange your schedule so you can fit in baking lessons. The thought of rising before the sun makes you scowl, but you might be able to make it work. Especially since you'll be working alongside him. "Goodnight, Kento."

"Goodnight," he repeats, and when he says your name, you can almost hear the way he relishes the feel of it on his tongue.

"Don't forget to practice!" you call to him as you flit down the sidewalk. He chuckles to himself and looks up at the street lamp, hand shoved into his pockets.

"I won't."

The title is taken from Shakespeare's Twelfth Night. “If music be the food of love play on,” by itself, is interpreted as equating music to food for love. On its own, as it is commonly quoted, speakers interpret it as promoting love in one’s life as one might seek out more food to sate one’s appetite. But, in the context of the play and the entire quote, it becomes clear that the speaker is asking for more music because he hopes that it will cure him of his obsessive love for Countess Olivia. He hopes that with more music, his “appetite may sicken and so die.” In the case of Nanami and his love interest, I just wanted a clever title to tie bread and music together, so the quote is interpreted here without context, which changes the meaning entirely 😂

The record that reader bring to Nanami is Vivaldi's Four Seasons, and the song specifically that plays is Spring

The Beethoven piece that he plays is Für Elise, which is a common "beginner" classical song for pianists.

The duet they play is Franz Schubert's Sonata in C Major D.812 (for four hands). They don't get very far before Nanami gives up.

In the bakery when they go to share a meal, Nanami puts on a Louis Armstrong record.

Thank you for reading! If you liked it, please consider a reblog to help spread the love.

[exactlycleverpirate]

Hi! I come to you with a theory regarding Zayne's Myth, specifically regarding the Creatio Protocore, because he lives in my mind rent-free and it bugs me how awkward it is to place his supplemental background stories in relation to everything else.

Specifically, my theory is that the Creatio Protocore is the core of Philos, and that it was the first Protocore (that we know of).

My main reason for suspecting that the core of Philos is a Protocore is based on the two methods we know of for creating Wanderers: sacrificing humans to the core of Philos to power it (Xavier's Myth) and long-term exposure to Protocores (Zayne's Anecdote 3).

The tangible common thread between these two is obviously humans turn into Wanderers, but while we know for one method its because of Protocore exposure, we don't know what about the core does this to humans. We also don't seem to know what the core is exactly, only certain qualities about it such as it keeps Philos together, it grants neat perks to its denizens like longevity, it's artificial, it's dead, it uses people to sustain itself, and that process somehow creates Wanderers. It's also presumably extremely powerful, given the range of stuff it does as well as holding an artificial planet together.

But also, there's the odd detail that Protocores seem to predate Wanderers considering the Protocore Xavier gets for MC in his Anecdote 3, the mere existence of the Creatio Protocore in Zayne's Myth, and Wanderers don't seem to come up on Philos until Xavier's Myth near the end of Philos. You'd think it'd be the other way around with Wanderers predating Protocores considering they drop them upon being slain, but also Protocores don't seem to be as commonplace as they are on Main Story Earth because both Xavier and MC in Anecdote 3 don't seem to know exactly what Protocore Syndrome is and it's a disease specifically caused by Protocores as per the game blurb in Deepspace Messages.

In any case, it establishes that Protocores have been around fairly early in Philos's inception, at least two centuries in.

I also find the circumstantial details for Xavier getting the unspecified Protocore for MC in his Anecdote 3 to be... sussy, to say the least. He's all cut up with that ring of light around his neck and implication he's lost whatever freedom he's had as a punishment, but like why? Sure it's obvious he stole a valuable Protocore but if it just healed MC the implications that he had to fight to get to it and he's being punished severely with the ring of light seems like overkill for that alone.

Okay, so to take this all together: immediately, application of Occam's Razor. We know exposure to Protocores turns humans into Wanderers, we know the core of Philos ALSO turns humans into Wanderers yet we don't know exactly what the core is, ergo conclusion being the core of Philos is most likely itself a Protocore. This is supported by Protocores confirmed to have been around at least as early as year 214 on Philos with high likelihood they existed even earlier and predating the known first appearances of Wanderers, so it would put them at the right time for one to be THE core. Also the implied troubles and consequences Xavier suffered to get MC the Protocore she needed in his Anecdote 3 make me think he didn't just steal a generic rare and powerful Protocore but the core of Philos for her. It also just makes sense to me from a logistical standpoint because at this point it seems the Protocore is under the royal family's guard as Xavier knew what MC needed without much specification and his injuries when he showed up, which, of course it would be if it was indeed the core of Philos since the royal family would want to keep it close and guarded.

But I digress... slightly.

Okay, so MAYBE the core of Philos is itself a Protocore. Why the Creatio Protocore specifically?

Firstly, it creates a segue between Xavier's Anecdote 3 and Zayne's Myth (assuming that's the order they come in chronologically). Xavier steals Protocore/core of Philos for MC but is too late, it's implied he's lost his freedom as a punishment for this which effectively takes him out of the running for god-knows-how-long before he can make good on his promise to track MC down again.

As for the Protocore? Well the Crown Prince was bold enough to steal it, clearly it's not safe with the royal family anymore. Maybe it's better off left in the care of a certain Foreseer in a frozen tower?

Also there's certain details about the Creatio Protocore that made me raise my eyebrows when rereading Zayne's Myth. Specifically, that MC's illness stems from her resonance with the Creatio Protocore, that it grows stronger by draining away her life (and also seems to drain her more the closer she gets to it), and that the cure to her condition is to fuse the Creatio Protocore with her heart.

Now, before I get to the other stuff: the Creatio Protocore grows stronger by draining away MC's life. Kind of... odd, that doesn't seem to be a quality of Protocores in general unless that's exactly what people turning into Wanderers via Protocore overexposure is, they're being drained slowly by the Protocores around them until they reach the Wanderer threshold. But that the Creatio Protocore grows stronger via draining MC's life implies that conversely it runs out of power over time, which sounds awfully like the dead heart of Philos which needed human sacrifices to keep itself and the planet going.

Speaking of which, what happened to those emissaries that the royal family sent to the Tower of Thorns every 100 years? Oh none of them came back? Wonder why? I highly doubt Zayne killed them considering he summoned a blizzard to deter a random group of travelers.

Okay, moving on to MC's illness stemming from her resonance with the Creatio Protocore and the cure being to fuse it with her heart. It has broad similarities with her condition in her life in Xavier's Anecdote 3: it's explicitly called "Protocore Syndrome" so it's caused by a Protocore, it causes a decline in her health over time until she dies, and it can only be cured by a specific Protocore. There's also the specific connections MC has with both the Creatio Protocore and the core of Philos. Creatio Protocore has an explicit connection to her seeing as her resonance with it is what's causing it to use her as a fuel cell even over long distances. The core of Philos has a more vague connection to her because she's the only one who can be sacrificed to it over and over without turning into a Wanderer. It might just be because she reincarnates and for some reason that doesn't allow the Wanderer transformation process to complete but I'm not satisfied with that answer.

Point being there's parallels between the broad strokes of MC's condition in her lives in Xavier's Anecdote 3 and Zayne's Myth and also between the Creatio Protocore and the core of Philos in that MC has a special connection to them and I'm inclined to think it's not an accident.

At this point it would mean that now the core of Philos is fused with MC's heart, which would roll over into Rafayel's Myth where her heart is what makes the people of Philos immortal.

And now I'm gonna do a line of crack for the next part of this theory because it will be heavier in speculation. It also relies heavily on the theory that Rafayel's heart is the thing that's giving the special perks to Philos like MC's ability to keep reincarnating and the immortality of the people of Philos.

I think that the Creatio Protocore was made by trying to take Rafayel's heart from MC by force, and since it was taken by force instead of given willingly, something didn't go right. Like sure, the Creatio Protocore was made and it was powerful enough to reform Earth into Philos and make everyone immortal, but it couldn't sustain itself because it wasn't fully divorced from MC. And then it gets put back by Zayne but it's still not back with Rafayel so things are still going to shit, and then maybe someone tries to take it by force again after the end of Rafayel's Myth and that's how we end up with the situation in Xavier's Myth with the end of Philos?

Some stray thoughts to finish off:

Nomenclature details - "Creatio" -> literally a letter off from "creation", and what else was created but the artificial planet of Philos?

"aether" -> According to Wikipedia page on aether (classical element), "In Greek mythology, it was thought to be the pure essence that the gods breathed, filling the space where they lived, analogous to the air breathed by mortals." Creatio Protocore is also called the Eye of Astra, who is a god. Aether Protocore is also called a "fragment" in the Main Story, so it's a fragment of the Creatio Protocore? Maybe that would explain why MC is so stable at this point in the main story despite her heart issues?

Also I think Astra is the person that made and used the Creatio Protocore to create Philos and then deified himself as a god (maybe through the power of the Creatio Protocore too?). I thought it was odd that Astra was so dead-set against MC being given the Creatio Protocore to the point of fucking with Zayne's memories, especially since things seem fine even after she gets it, but it might make slightly more sense if he's worried that either his main conduit of interacting with the world via the Creatio Protocore is in some way neutralized when MC has it or he's worried MC getting the Creatio Protocore is a step closer to Rafayel getting his heart back.

(Also Astra erasing Zayne's memories over and over again because he knew Zayne would give MC the Creatio and he seemingly wants MC to keep reincarnating and wandering up to the Tower of Thorns to give the Creatio Protocore a recharge is pretty fucked up)

Anyway, last stray thought: When initially thinking "core" of Philos, I thought a literal core like Earth, especially since that seems to be what the text implies with something holding the plates together, but then I thought does it have to be? Hence this rabbit hole.

Anyway anyway, I uh. I apologize for the long ask. It most def has mistakes from stuff I glossed over and because I can't check Xavier and Rafayel's Myths closely due to not having the cards. But this is my best guess as to how things in the Philos era fits together.

Yes yes yes! You summed up a bunch of ideas I've had floating around in my brain and made some connections I was struggling with!

I definitely think the Creatio either is the planet's core or is somehow linked to it. I also think it is somehow connected to Rafayel's heart.

I've contemplated whether it could be some form of ancient Lemurian tech. It is described as Astra's eye, and the only other god-being we've seen so far is Rafayel, so perhaps Astra is another Lemurian? Or some other ancient people with a connection to/rivalry with the Lemurians?

Alternatively, the Creatio could be a paradox. The Wanderers follow Xavier through the Deepspace Tunnel, then it seems humans start studying/researching protocores, eventually perhaps creating or improving them to develop the core, which then later creates the Wanderers that travel through time, and so on and so forth. Essentially the Creatio/planet core creates itself somehow or other. 

Either way, there certainly seems to be a connection between the Creatio/planet's core/Rafayel's heart, whether natural or manufactured. 

Currently, we have two separate (but connected?) groups that could play into the creation of the core and/or development of it as the planet's core. 

Ever Corp appears to be researching immortality by kidnapping/studying/dissecting Lemurians. Meanwhile, Onychinus is playing around with altering protocores and their resonance. (Rafayel talks about how everything has a unique resonance that makes it distinct in the universe and teaches MC how to sense it). But Onychinus wasn't the first to play around with protocores, as they appear to have started after a researcher that Grandma worked with on the Aethor core experiments on MC defected to them. Perhaps the original research was also linked to Ever Corp.

We also know by Dawnbreaker's time that there are factories actively working on protocores in some way or other (which has the side effect of turning humans into Abominations into Wanderers). And that the effects/consequences of this are being hidden by higher powers/the government. 

I am also tremendously curious about what is frozen in Mt. Eternal. It appears to have the same pattern as the floor of some of the protofields where we fight Wanderers. Mt. Eternal also appears to be connected to the Tower of Thorns, as you can see the same peak from the balcony of the tower. Additionally, the story Foreseer Zayne tells MC talks about a Divine Mountain, likely also Mt. Eternal.

I also agree that the protocore Xavier acquires in his Anecdote and the Creatio are one and the same, and therefore it seems likely that because Xavier stole it, the Foreseer was placed as a guard on it, somewhere the royal family cannot easily access. I would love to know why Zayne was chosen to be Foreseer. Was it supposed to be a punishment or a blessing? Certainly, if it was originally intended to be a blessing, it turned into a curse by the end, though it did give him the means to save MC eventually (which is what Doctor Zayne is also studying protocores/protocore syndrome in an attempt to achieve).

It also seems likely that the protocore Xavier retrieved had to be significant, since MC somehow knew it could cure her, and Xavier somehow knew which one to find with limited details.

I like your suggestion that the emissaries that the royal family are sending to the tower are being sacrificed to the core, I could totally see that. That story Zayne tells MC talks about how she is walking over white, gleaming bones. This could be all the MCs that died before, but also likely anyone else who has been sacrificed to the core in the meanwhile.

I could see MC being once more separated from the Creatio via a forceful attempt to remove his heart at the end of Rafayel's myth. I definitely suspect that the story there ends with Rafayel falling into eternal slumber, and then MC being assassinated by either angry Lemurians or the royal family. The part I struggle with on this idea though, is why then does Xavier’s Myth MC seem to be heart-condition free? She appears to be as stable/healthy as Rafayel's MC, so how was the core separated from her yet she remained stable?

My guess is that the Creatio and the planet's core are not the same, but rather linked. So the Creatio remains fused to her heart in Rafayel’s and Xavier's myths and is linked to the planet's core via the Creatio but the Creatio is distinct from the planet's core. Maybe they are quantum entangled or linked by resonance like the heart and the Creatio.

Since we know from Xavier's Myth that there is an explicit link between hearts and protocores, it certainly seems likely that the Creatio and/or planet's core and Rafayel's heart go together, on some level or other.

Zayne's story also talks about divine beings sitting on thrones hiding daggers. This could easily apply to Astra and Rafayel (particularly interesting with Rafayel since he has to re-acquire the heart via a special dagger). I also wonder if there could be other divine beings as well, or those who have elevated themselves to divinity, manipulating and scheming in the background.

A lot of great ideas here. I need to go through and reread some stuff and see if any new details stand out with all this information in my mind.

[sky-kiss]

Well, since I'm here now, allow me to share a particularly stupid thought.

Imagine the party getting copies of the contract Raphael wants Tav to sign and everyone is just going over it in detail, reading all the fine print. Gale is examining it from his academic perspective. Wyll is looking at it through the lens of his prior experience with infernal dealings. Astarion is finally putting his legal background to use. And just when the gang has the revisions done and are ready to go back with their counteroffer, they find Tav already signed it because "ooo devil man pretty."

A/N: Oh, heck yes. We are pleased to have you. Have some wine. Also. I love this idea. It is glorious.

__________

Tav has enjoyed an unprecedented calm. Baldur’s Gate seems to have taken a breath, setting aside its propensity for careening towards the apocalypse for a single evening. No one is kidnapping their friends. No murder cults have attempted to waylay them in the streets. The Emperor is silent. It’s truly idyllic. 

The reason for this peace becomes at least partially evident when three of their companions barge into their half of the room. Wyll, Astarion, and Gale had headed off just after dawn, locking themselves away in one of the Elfsong’s side rooms. 

“Darling,” Astarion begins, his tone bright. “We were hoping to catch you before you dipped out for the evening.” Tav has no such plans, but why clarify? The vampire spawn holds out a scroll. “Here. Courtesy of yours truly. And these two.” He makes a vague gesture towards Wyll and Gale. 

“What’s this?” 

“Your contract, dearest! Well, potential contract.” 

Gale holds up a finger, grinning, handsome. “The three of us figured why not put our collective heads together. If two is better than one…”

“Yes, yes,” Astarion cuts him off. “Then three must be superior. The point is, dear, with Gale’s translation, my experience, and Wyll’s…well, debacle, we’ve fashioned terms far superior to what you might have expected.” The former magistrate rocks back on his heels. “Do you know, I even rather enjoyed myself. It’s been centuries since I put my skills to work and…” 

“I already signed the contract.” 

An uncomfortable silence stretches between the four of them. Gale breaks it. The wizard’s brows pull together. He opens his mouth first and closes it; it takes another two attempts before he can finally stutter his question out. “I…beg pardon, you’ve signed it?” 

“Raphael stopped by just before lunch…” 

“The devil stopped by? And you didn’t think to tell us?”

Tav purses their lips. In hindsight, it didn’t sound particularly well-advised. They scrub at their knees. “You were busy! You’d all rushed off!” 

“To rewrite your contract.” 

“You didn’t tell me that!” 

 Tav wonders if Astarion won’t just combust. The spawn makes a horrible sputtering noise, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Oh for the gods…why? Why sign it?” 

“It’s going to sound silly.”

“Stupid, dear. I’m fairly certain it’s going to sound stupid.” 

Tav worries their hands together. “He just seemed so hopeful. And his eyes are such a pretty brown?” At their friend’s collective groan, Tav pushes forward. “Look, I didn’t want him to be disappointed!” 

Gales says, “You should! You should feel free to disappoint the devil!” 

Astarion is more succinct: “Oh, you’re a fucking dolt.” 

[bakugous-tits]

Standing in the Sun

So! Since my old blog got hacked and deleted, I'm finally ready to come back! I'll just be posting a few of my faves for now, and this is number one to come back out! I love Mirio so much, and this was a labour of love for me to write but I'm so happy with it and I hope everyone enjoys it <3

Pairing: Mirio/Reader

Word Count: 14,031

Warnings: Soulmate AU, violence, awkwardness, smut but this one is fairly vanilla I believe? There is a creampie though!

Thank you and enjoy!

You were 16 when your mark showed up.

Everyone in school had laughed when it showed up, the child-like sun showing up on your wrist looking absolutely ridiculous. Most soul marks were a little more refined, looking like fancy tattoos more than anything.

Yours looked like an 8 year old’s interpretation of a sun, minus the cartoon sunglasses and poorly drawn smile.

It was so basic. One of your friends had an intricate rose across her ribcage, another had a detailed mountain range on his back-

And you had a simple sun. 

What the fuck did that even mean? 

In a world full of quirks it was always difficult to know whether your soul mark had something to do with your soulmate’s personality, hobbies, or their quirk; and with one as plain as yours, you figured that you’d never find your person. Were they someone with a light based quirk? Did they just like being outside? 

Years later, you still didn’t know. 

You stared down at your wrist, sighing as you leaned back on your sofa. The TV played on in the background, but you were unaware of what was on anymore, mostly using it as white noise at this point. The paperwork you’d been doing for your students was scattered around your coffee table in various piles, only half done. As a developing quirk advisor, you spent your days helping kids whose quirks had recently manifested to learn to control them, and spent your nights marking their progress through various reports for their parents and teachers. It was rewarding work, even if it took up almost all of your time in order to keep up with the number of kids under your care. 

A glance over at the digital clock on your oven revealed that you’d been sat there for longer than you’d thought- it was starting to get late and you still hadn’t even thought about what to eat. Stretching your arms over your head, you groaned in satisfaction at the way your joints popped. Leaving your paperwork on the table, you ran a hand over your pomeranian’s head as he napped next to you on the sofa, ignoring his little grumble as you stood up. You smiled at his grumpiness as you padded over to your kitchen, only to groan when you opened the fridge.

Nothing. Nothing you could use to make a substantial meal anyway, and the way your stomach was growling at you said that a snack wasn’t going to cut it. Your eyes dragged over to Chibi when he raised his head to glare at you, as if he knew what you were thinking already. As you closed the fridge you smirked, tilting your head at him. “Hey buddy, you want to go for a walk?” 

Chibi snorted, turning around in place on the sofa and flopping down, his back facing you. 

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

After 20 minutes and a lot of unnecessary furry struggling, Chibi was reluctantly trotting along the pavement beside you as you headed to a nearby ramen shop that knew you by name. You smiled down at him fondly as you walked, knowing that even though he likely hated you right now he’d be back to snuggling you in bed later. 

A small commotion further up the street stole your attention away from your companion, your head shooting up at the shrill scream that tore through the air. A woman was on the ground, having been pushed down by a large man that was running around the corner-

A man who was currently barrelling toward you. 

Before you could even react, he’d crashed into you and sent you crumbling to the ground, Chibi’s leash flying out of your grip as you fell. You cried out as you hit the pavement, the breath knocked from your lungs momentarily as you registered the footsteps of more people running towards you. Scrambling to grab Chibi’s leash, your heart was in your throat as you watched him jump away from all the people sprinting past. He yelped as he ran out into the (thankfully empty) street, little legs pumping and taking him away from you. 

You watched him go with frantic eyes, only looking away from him briefly to glance at the incoming group of people.

Heroes. 

While part of you was relieved that the brute that knocked you down was going to be taken care of, your focus was quickly drawn back to the rapidly disappearing canine that was running still. Pushing yourself up quickly, you took to chasing him on your own, the other civilians in the area too distracted by the hero chase to really pay attention to your frantic calls of your dog’s name. 

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

You still hadn’t found him. 

You’d been searching for what felt like hours already, calling out his name between sobs. As your only companion, Chibi was probably an attachment that would be considered unhealthy at this point but he was your world. Losing him would be a huge blow, and it had your heart pounding in fear at what could have possibly happened to him. 

“Excuse me, Miss? Is this little guy the one you’re looking for?” 

Whipping around quickly, you gasped at the sight of Chibi panting heavily in someone's arms, not even looking up at the person straight away. You choked out his name, your arms shooting out to grab him as you sobbed out a yes to the stranger. Chibi happily snuggled into you as you held him close to your chest, licking at your cheeks before settling in your arms. You finally looked up to thank the stranger, relief flooding you as your eyes flicked up to meet-

Blue. His eyes were so blue. 

And he was big . The man towered over you, the brightness of his outfit surprising you for a moment before you realised that he was a hero . And not just any hero either, this was Lemillion . His grin was still boyish despite the fact that he had to be in his mid twenties by now, not too far from your own age. Your mouth hung open, your eyes rapidly tracing over him as he chuckled at your response. 

From what you remembered seeing back in your school days from the sports festivals, Lemillion had always been big, but now that he’d graduated and become a pro hero, the baby fat was completely gone. He was all hard planes of muscle, broad shoulders and massive arms, and god damn those thighs looked powerful. But as your eyes returned to his face, a heat coming to your cheeks at so blatantly checking him out, you realised that there was definitely a boyish charm to his look. 

“Sorry it took me so long to find him! I saw the whole thing before but he’s fast ! And even when I caught up to him he was so grumpy at first! You’ve got a little spitfire there!” Lemillion was looking down at Chibi in your arms with almost the same fond expression you’d had before everything happened. You reached a hand up to swipe the tears from your cheeks, sniffling once before getting yourself together and smiling at him.

“Thank you for finding him for me, I didn’t think it’d really be a priority when there was something like that going on…” Lemillion blinked at you for a second before laughing, reaching out to stroke the top of Chibi’s head softly. 

“There were plenty of heroes around to catch that guy, and he was nearly out of steam anyway! When I saw this guy run off I knew I had to do something to help, so I split off and hunted him down. He’s a smart cookie though! Knew to take the back streets and alleys, and when I found him he was huddled in a bush!” Lemillion’s hand moved down to scratch under Chibi’s chin, the canine’s eyes squinting in satisfaction. “Now that you’ve got him though… It’s pretty late, you should be getting home! After all that excitement, both you and the little guy probably need to rest.”

You opened your mouth to thank him one last time before you left, but halted when your stomach grumbled loudly. Your face flushed with heat once again as Lemillion’s eyed dropped to your stomach, his eyes widening in understanding after a moment.

“Oh! You haven’t eaten yet? Well, if it’s okay with you… d’you wanna grab something to eat with me? My patrol is over now and I’m starving!”

You blinked. Lemillion wanted to have dinner with you? You knew from the various people who posted about him online that he was a friendly hero, but this seemed a little over the top…

But the look on his face was open, genuine, like it was something he did all the time. You couldn’t help but nod, a small smile on your lips.

“Sure, but you have to let me treat you, okay? As a thank you for rescuing Chibi…” You raised the arm holding your dog, gesturing to him with your head and rolling your eyes playfully. Lemillion’s face tinted pink, his head shaking and a protest that you could already hear starting to form. “And I won’t take no for an answer, mister, so just accept it.”

Lemillion almost seemed bashful as he nodded, even though he was the one who boldly offered in the first place. As you led him back to your favourite ramen shop, you chatted amicably about mundane things. You didn’t pick up on it straight away, but by the end of the walk you had caught him staring at you a few times as you walked, eyes always tracing over your face. As you sat down at the table in the little shop, placing Chibi on the chair next to you, you gave him a curious look. 

“Is something wrong?” Lemillion’s face blazed at your question as he sat down across from you, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck and chuckling nervously. His eyes avoided you, instead focusing on the menu as he cleared his throat.

“Nothing! It’s fine, don’t worry about it!”

You ended up dismissing the thoughts and focusing on food yourself, and soon enough the two of you had your orders and were tucking into them heartily. The shop owner (who knew you very well from your years of coming here, and absolutely loved Chibi.) even provided your little man with some strips of meat, patting him softly on the head before toddling off to serve other customers. As you ate, you stole glances at Lemillion, catching him watching you a few times again and both of you quickly breaking eye contact and looking away. 

You couldn’t shake a nagging feeling in the back of your head, a feeling you weren’t able to identify constantly swimming at the edges of your mind. It felt… warm. Like even though you two just met, you’d known each other longer than that, and that this was just another comfortable hangout among many others.

In reality, his costume was drawing curious eyes as people passed the ramen shop. You bristled slightly when a couple of teenage girls came up to your table requesting an autograph, unsure of why you had a pit in your stomach at his resulting smile. The girls were fawning over him and somehow, it put you off the rest of your food, making you put down your utensils and push it away from you slightly. You focused on stroking Chibi’s head, giving the dog your full attention as Mirio fielded their questions and signed some of their belongings. When he finally waved goodbye to them and turned back to you, your previously happy mood had dimmed and you were simply getting tired, the emotional nature of the evening finally catching up with you. Lemillions eyes widened as you yawned, pulling his phone out of his pocket and checking the time before slapping his forehead dramatically.

“Oh man! I didn’t realise how late it was! We should get you home, right?” Nodding your head, you quickly pulled out some money to pay for both of your meals and picked Chibi up once again. You waved to the owner of the restaurant as you walked out, ignoring her pointedly raised brows when she looked between you and Lemillion, and stepped out into the cool night air. Crossing your arms over Chibi, you were glad you’d pulled a hoodie on before you left the house earlier, the night having cooled considerably already. 

Lemillion took a deep breath and set his hands on his hips, smiling up at the night sky for a second before turning to face you.

“That was some good food! Thanks for showing me this place, I might have to come back sometime.” His head tilted to the side as he noticed you wrap your arms a little tighter around Chibi, a frown twisting his face slightly. “Are you cold? Here, let me just…”

Lemillion reached up, fiddling with where his cape meets his costume for a moment before the fabric came loose, reaching out to wrap it around your shoulders gently. Your eyes widened for a moment as you unwrapped one arm from around Chibi’s belly, clutching the cape closed and looking down to the floor sheepishly, heat rising in your cheeks again. Lemillion fiddled with the fabric until he was satisfied with its placement, smiling at you gently and gesturing for you to lead the way. He was going to walk you home?

The heat in your cheeks stayed firmly in place, your stomach flipping even as you internally berate yourself. He’s a hero, of course he’s going to be nice to you. Don’t look into it too much, it doesn’t mean anything to him . Forcing your feelings to chill the fuck out, you started walking toward your home and gave Lemillion a soft smile as he fell into step beside you. The walk wasn’t all that long, the two of you chit chatting as you went and Chibi resting comfortably in your arms and panting as he watched the world go by. Lemillion seemed to be showing actual interest in you and your work when he asked questions, throwing you for a loop and making your stomach flip flop dramatically even though you knew he was just doing his job as a hero. 

As you walked, your mind started to wander. You couldn’t understand why you felt so… relaxed? That wasn’t quite the right word, but the feeling in the back of your mind refused to show itself any further to let you identify it. This was a hero, a man you’d never met before that night, but you were walking and talking like you’d known each other for years, laughing and poking fun at anything and everything. Lemillion’s sense of humour was… odd at times, but you found yourself enjoying it nonetheless. You almost felt… upset when you arrived back at your house, a soft frown on your face. Lemillion noticed, because of course he did, and raised a brow at you in question.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” His voice was softer than it had been all night, and it made something in your chest twist. You ignored the feeling, schooling your features and smiling up at him with a nod.

“Of course! Well, this is me! Thank you so much, Lemillion, count me as one of your ‘million people saved’, okay?” Your joking words had him smiling widely, hands going to his hips once again.

“Don’t mention it! Have a good night, okay?” With those parting words, Lemillion turned with a mock salute and headed off into the night. You smiled after him for a moment, before making your way into your house, letting Chibi down and removing his harness. The dog immediately ran over and settled himself into his spot on the sofa, huffing as he lay down to fall asleep. 

You groaned when you realised that Lemillion had forgotten to take his cape from you. As you held the material in your hands, you sighed and buried your face into it for a second. It still smelled like him, something citrusy and light, but still distinctly masculine, and you cringed when it occurred to you that this was super creepy . You can’t just sniff a guy’s cape like that!. You folded the fabric carefully, placing it on the small table by the front door in case he realised and came back for it, before removing your hoodie to hang it up by the front door.

You failed to notice that rapidly fading glow of your soul mark on your wrist, too focused on staring fondly at your canine companion. 

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

Lemillion never came back for his cape, but you saw a news story a few days later about a rescue he’d been part of and he had a new one, so you figured he wasn’t all that bothered. 

You started using it as a throw on the sofa, snuggling up with Chibi under it when you were watching TV in the evenings, hoping he never came back for the damn thing. It was the perfect thickness to provide comfort, but thin enough not to overheat you, and it was so damn soft . You loved it.

The whole encounter became just another crazy story you could tell your friends and coworkers. Lemillion found your lost dog, had dinner with you and walked you home- who else could say that? In the weeks following the event, you told it countless times, until everyone already knew and it started to fade from your repertoire. Some of them were jealous, others told you you should have dragged him into your home and had your way with him. You always felt heat rise in your cheeks at that, shaking your head vehemently to deny the idea. He was hot, sure, but he was a hero , and you were just a simple everyday woman. 

Once the novelty wore off, you threw yourself back into your work. One of your students had been struggling a lot with her quirk- it had manifested recently and was a mutation, so none of her family were really able to help her all that much with learning how to control it. 

Your own quirk was almost perfectly suited to your job: Empathy. You were able to feel the emotions of others when you concentrated on them, and with time you learned how to influence their emotions too. This meant that when your students were scared, frustrated or angry, you were able to calm them down a little and help them see the situation clearly. 

Growing up, you hadn’t really known how to apply your quirk most helpfully. You’d never really wanted to be a hero, but that didn’t mean you didn’t want to help people, and it was only when you were volunteering to help a neighbor out with their young child that it occurred to you.

Man, I wish I had your quirk! Being able to calm this little one down during a tantrum would make my life ten times easier!

And with those words in mind, you realised what you wanted to do. Helping others by helping the next generation of heroes get to grips with their quirks, help them grow and flourish- it was perfect. Many years of studying and internships later, you were finally one of the best in the city, sought after by many schools for their problem children. It was exhausting, but you’d never trade it for anything now.

This particular little girl- Mika- had a quirk that allowed her to create storm clouds. Not just rain, but thunder and lightning too, and since she came from a family with all ground based quirks they were out of their element with her. The school had contacted you a while ago when she accidentally started making clouds inside the classroom when she got upset or didn’t understand something, and then became scared at the thunder. It would make her produce more clouds, only making the situation worse and ending with lots of the students in tears. 

Mika was a quiet girl, a little on the shy side but with a heart of gold, and you wanted to help her so damn bad. She idolised heroes, and wished for a different quirk every day because she didn’t think she could become one with hers. As you were walking home from your most recent session with her, lost in your head, you didn’t even see someone exiting the shop next to you. 

You crashed into what felt like a brick wall, your ass hitting the ground harshly as you dropped your work bag. Your eyes had closed in surprise, but shot open when you heard a familiar voice.

“Oh-! I’m so sorry- Hey, it’s you!” Lemillion stood in front of you yet again, although this time in civilian clothes. You gaped up at him and blinked, before scurrying to your feet, grabbing your bag and shaking your head.

“No! It was my fault, I wasn’t paying attention…” Your eyes drifted to the takeout bag in his hand, before glancing up to see that-

You were outside the ramen shop. He’d come back after all. Noticing your wandering gaze, he looked up to follow your eyes and chuckled, one arm coming up to rub a hand over the back of his head sheepishly.

“I uh- I really liked our dinner the other week, so I’ve been coming back here a few times since then.” Lemillion’s cheeks flushed, and you raise a brow. He almost seemed embarrassed, but you didn’t understand why until he spoke up again, uncharacteristically quiet. “And I was- well, I was kind of hoping to run into you again to be honest…”

Your heart kicked into overdrive for a second, your stomach flipping again until you realised- his cape. He probably just wanted it back, not to actually see you , because why would you even register on his radar? You were just a person he’d saved once. One of his million.

“O-oh, of course… If you’d be willing to walk home with me I can give it back right away, sorry for taking it in the first place but I didn’t really know how to give it back…” Your eyes didn’t lift from your hands, readjusting your bag and making sure all of your files were in place and that nothing had fallen out. When you finally looked up, Lemillion had a confused look on his face, his head tilted slightly. You raised a brow, your brows furrowing slightly. “...Your cape? That’s why you were trying to find me, right?” 

Lemillion blinked at you, before bursting into laughter. All you could do was stand there, confused, people passing by giving you odd looks as they hurried past the hysterical man. He managed to reign it in, swiping at one of his eyes as his breathing began to level out.

“Oh, man! I forgot I even left it with you! I’ve had so many spares made over the years so I don’t really notice when my team swaps ‘em out.” The smile he gave you was genuine- and the softness in his eyes as he gazed down at you made something in your chest flutter before you could stop it. But you do- you had to stop being like this, you’d only met the man once and he saved so many people in one day, there was no way you were ever going to register on his radar and you refused to get your hopes up.

Besides, you had a soulmate out there somewhere who was waiting for you, you couldn’t let yourself get hung up on him just because he was lovely, and had nice eyes and you wanted to bite his thighs and rub your hands all over his pecs and-

Stop it .

You took a deep breath, shaking your head slightly. If it wasn’t his cape, then why the hell was he looking for you? Opening your mouth to ask, Lemillion cut you off before you could even speak.

“I wanted to speak to you about the kids you work with and if maybe we could set up some kind of group meet and greet, or something. I know it always motivated me to work hard at figuring out my quirk when I saw heroes in action as a kid, so imagine what it might do to actually meet one!” And there it was. The rational explanation that helped cut your thoughts off, despite the fog of hurt that suddenly swirled in your chest. This was for the best, you didn’t need to obsess over a man who’s world was so far removed from your own. You cleared your throat, adjusting your bag over your arm as you smiled up at him.

“Seems like a good idea, yeah! If you’re not too busy, that is…” 

“Of course not! I wouldn’t have offered it if I didn’t think I’d have time.” Lemillion rubbed at the back of his head, digging into his pocket for a moment. “So, I think it would probably be a good idea if we swapped numbers- to organise something, of course, just to keep in contact more easily.” There was something odd about his face as he pulled his phone out of his pocket, but you didn’t have a chance to dwell on it before he was handing you the object and prompting you to fill in your information. Once you’d shared your contacts, you asked him if he’d like to wait at the shop for you to go retrieve his cape. The hero laughed, waving you off.

“Like I said, I didn’t even realise it was gone! You may as well keep it.” You went to protest, only to be cut off by his phone ringing in his hand. As he answered the call, he gave you an apologetic look, muttering softly to the person on the other side before hanging up. “Shoot, they need me back at the agency- here, I won’t have time to eat it now, so you may as well have my order. At least it won’t go to waste then, right?”

Without waiting for a response, he placed the bag in your hand and darted off, your jaw dropping as you looked after him. With a heavy sigh, you trudged home and set the takeaway on the kitchen counter, Chibi circling at your feet in excitement. Opening the bags to inspect what he’d bought, something fluttered in your chest when you saw the contents.

Lemillion had ordered the exact things you’d both had on the night you’d met. 

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This was getting ridiculous.

You shouldn’t be feeling like this about a man you’ve only met in person twice . 

Lemillion was just too nice, too lovely, though, and as you texted back and forth in the weeks following your second meeting you couldn't help the little flip flops that your stomach went through when you saw his name light up your phone screen. The man was always so happy in his texts, so understanding when you ended up delving into the more serious discussions about your students. 

It was playing absolute havoc on your heart. 

It was finally the day before Lemillion would be coming into your afterschool class to meet your students, the whole thing set up as a surprise for the youngsters. Putting down your phone after sending him a text to confirm that everything was still good to go, you sighed and turned your hand over to stare at your soulmate mark. This wasn’t fair. There was someone out there for you, and here you were getting all worked up over a man way out of your league. You shook your head, letting your arm drop down onto your bed, curling up further onto your side and closing your eyes. 

“What are you doing…? Just- stop it. It’ll never work. He probably already has his soulmate, so there’s no point…” Murmuring to yourself softly, your eyes shot open when your phone buzzed next to your face on the pillow. Lemillion’s name filled your screen, your heart kicking up a gear as you swiped to open the message.

Lemillion: All good on my end! As long as there’s no emergencies tomorrow, I should be there around 3! I can’t wait to see you!

And there was your heart, pounding even heavier as the chat bubbles came up again, signalling him typing once more.

Lemillion: And the kids, obviously! Haha, that’s the main thing tomorrow, isn’t it!

Your heart calmed down a little, but heat remained in your cheeks from his words. He hadn’t corrected himself, he’d just added on the kids. Did that mean-?

Groaning, you turned your face into your pillow. You really needed to stop this, damn it. You peeked one eye out when your phone buzzed with an alert. Tapping on the notification, you were taken to a news page about a fight that had broken out earlier in the day. Your heart swelled when you caught sight of a certain blonde hero, a video showing him engaged in a hand to hand fight with a villain that was attempting to rob a bank. The villain couldn’t land a single hit, Lemillion’s permeation quirk frustrating him more and more as the hero kept punching him over and over. Eventually, the villain fell to the floor after a particularly solid hit to the face, knocked out and drooling on the floor. 

The determined look in Lemillion’s eyes throughout the fight only made you admire him more, his drive to protect the civilians from harm and save as many people as possible… He truly was an inspiration. You tapped out of the video, going back to your messages with the hero. Sighing once again, you decided to turn in.

After sending him a thumbs up and wishing him goodnight, you plugged your phone in and turned over, closing your eyes once more and attempting to fall asleep so you wouldn’t be completely knocked out the next day. The last thoughts in your mind swirled around him, head filled with visions of his eyes, the sounds of his laugh.

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Hot. It was so hot, sweat dripping down your spine as you perched on the edge of the bed, your ass raised high and your face buried in the covers. Hands were clasped around your waist, big and reassuring as the man leaned forward to place kisses across your shoulders, a whine sticking in your throat as you arched into him. You felt his lips stretch into a smile at your movements before he straightened, one of his hands leaving your waist to move between your legs, the tip of his finger circling your clit and forcing a moan from your chest. Starting at a teasing pace, his finger gradually got faster, making your legs shake and hands grasp the sheets where they were stretched above your head. 

Somehow you were already dripping wet, your walls aching to be filled, clenching around nothing. A deep chuckle met your ears as he removed his hand, the feeling of something much thicker taking its place as he rubbed the head of his cock against your clit. Trying to push back against him, you gasped when he softly swatted at your ass, laughing once again. 

Your wishes were granted when you felt him start to push into you, your jaw dropping open at the stretch of him- long, thick and heavy inside you. He gave you a minute to adjust to him, before he started to move. His thighs hit against your ass with each pump of his hips, leaving you achingly empty when he drew back and pulling moans from you when he pushed back in. 

“Always take me so well, baby, so good…”

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You jolted awake, sweat covering your skin and the sheets kicked off around your legs. Chest heaving, you reached up to wipe the sweat from your brow, noting the mess of wetness between your thighs. 

That voice… That was Lemillion…

You shook your head, reaching over to grab your phone and check the time. With only about 20 minutes before you had to get up to get ready for work anyway, you switched off your alarm and slunk into the shower to clean up. It felt so real, the warmth of his hands on your skin almost lingering on you even in the heat of the shower. 

After staying under the hot spray for much longer than was strictly necessary, you managed to pull yourself together and sat down for a small breakfast, wondering how the fuck you were going to look Lemillion in the eyes today after that dream. Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and forced yourself to calm down. 

Damn it, I’m a professional! I can do this.  

Breakfast cleared, you grabbed your bag and your files, patting Chibi on the head softly before leaving for the day, the dog looking up at you with a huff to see you off.

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“What’s the surprise, huh? We wanna know!” 

“Why’d we gotta wait ‘till after school? Tell us!”

“ Please? ” 

The kids were practically frothing at the mouth when you told them you had a surprise waiting for them during their last official lesson of the day, many of them getting frustrated when you refused to tell them what was happening during your session after official school hours ended. While most of the kids in this class had a good handle on their quirks, there were more in here that struggled than any other class so for the time being you had a group session with them one day a week. The kids with more difficulty had individual sessions with you on other days, like Mika. 

Your eyes drifted over to her where she sat quietly in the corner of the class, fiddling with a keychain on her backpack. As the other kids began packing up their things, you wandered over to where she was sitting and crouched down to her height, smirking when you realised what she was messing with.

A Lemillion keychain.

“Do you like Lemillion, Mika?” The little girl jumped at your voice, but smiled when she realised you were asking her about her accessory. The smile spread as she looked down at it and nodded, her fingers tracing the raised metal that framed a cartoon version of the hero. You pulled the sleeves of your cardigan further over your wrists as you raised a brow at her.

“He’s my favourite! He’s strong, and nice, and he saves so many people!” Resting your hand on the top of her head softly, you gave her a grin. “I wanna be a hero like him! I wanna save lotsa people just like Lemillion!”

“I just know you can do it, Mika! Work hard, and you can be just like him!” You straightened and headed back towards the door, leaning against the frame as you waited for the kids to be ready to leave. A buzzing in your pocket had you pulling out your phone.

Lemillion: I’m in the gym, ready to go! Can’t wait!

Placing your phone back into your pocket, you clapped your hands as the kids lined up in front of you, getting their attention. They quieted down quickly, eager to find out what their surprise was. You led them easily through the school grounds until you got to the gym, pausing outside the door and clearing your throat as you turned to your group.

“Okay guys, I need you to listen to me closely! Your surprise is in here, and I know you’re all gonna be excited, but please remember your manners, okay?” Murmurs erupted through the group, brows furrowing in confusion until you opened the door and ushered them in. Collective gasps filled the room as the group finally saw their prize: Lemillion, in the flesh, standing in the middle of the gym. Your eyes strayed to Mika, taking in the shining of her eyes and the way her jaw dropped before she looked back at you. She grinned, a look mirrored on your own face, before her eyes returned to her hero.

The next hour or so was mostly Lemillion fielding questions, signing things and hyping the kids up, many of them leaving with their parents afterwards with smiles filling their faces, as well as new determination. You had to hand it to him- he’d been right about this encouraging the kids, but there was one more thing you wanted to squeeze out of the experience.

“Mika?” the girl in question looked up at you, still clutching her backpack with careful hands. Lemillion had signed it for her, and you had a feeling that it was now her prized possession. “Can you come here for a moment?”

Having already cleared an extra fifteen minutes with her parents, you knew this would be just what the girl needed to help with her quirk. As she approached, you looked over to Lemillion once again, meeting his eyes and tilting your head down towards her. A look of understanding filled his face as he walked towards you, his smile returning as he approached Mika and yourself. Mika looked sheepish, especially now that everyone else had left, but Lemillion gave her a soft smile as he crouched down. 

“Hiya Mika! I hear you’ve been having a little trouble with your quirk?” The girl’s smile fell, her eyes drifting down to the floor as she nodded her head. “Well, would you believe me if I told you that I had a really hard time with my quirk when I was your age?”

Her eyes shot up to meet his, shaking her head slowly. The smile never left his face as he began to explain his quirk to her in a little more detail, telling her how dangerous it had been for him at first. Mika’s eyes shined at the information, her fists clenching slightly in front of her chest.

“It was hard work, because even though my pops has the same quirk, he never learned how to use it like I do! I had to figure it out all on my own, sorta like how you’re figuring out your quirk too! And a lot of the time I was scared of my quirk, so me and you are practically the same!” 

Mika froze, her eyes widening. You held your breath, hoping beyond all hope that this was what she needed to get her out of the slump she’d been drifting into. Lemillion tilted his head with a broad smile, and Mika’s eyes filled with tears as she smiled back at him. Her posture straightened as she swiped at her eyes, that same determined glint in them that you’d seen on the other students. She gave him an intent nod, sniffling slightly. 

“I’ll work hard, Lemillion! Just like you!” Mika’s parents entered just as she made her bold claim, Lemillion laughing and ruffling her hair as he stood up. They came over, thanking the hero profusely and chatting for a moment before ushering a highly excited Mika from the gym. You heaved a sigh of relief as the door swung shut behind them, resting your hands on your hips as you swung your head around to look at Lemillion. 

“Thank you for that, I was really struggling to get through to her but I think you did it!” A smile on your face, you rubbed at one of your arms with your other hand, a little bashful. “I think she’ll be okay thanks to you. Another citizen saved, Lemillion.” 

Lemillion grinned, giving you a thumbs up and nodding his head. As you helped him pack up, you kept feeling his eyes on you, always averting when you turned to make eye contact. When you finished, he cleared his throat and approached you, a faint dusting of pink on his cheeks.

“Thanks for letting me do this! It was super fun, and I think it helped the kids a lot.” You nodded to him, giving him a smile in return. As you exited the gym with your things, Lemillion holding the door for you, you looked up to see the sky darkening with clouds rather quickly. He came up beside you, letting the door swing shut behind him and glancing up himself. “Oh shoot, looks like it’s gonna rain pretty hard… Did you walk here?”

You nodded your head, searching through your bag for your umbrella and raising it with a flourish once you dragged it from the depths. A frown seemed to be cemented on Lemilion’s face, making you raise a brow at him. “I’ll be fine, it’s only about fifteen minutes from here if you know the shortcuts like I do!” He shook his head once, placing his fists on his hips as he sighed and looked at the floor, only raising his head again when you made a questioning noise. 

“Only one thing for it. I’ll have to walk you home again to make sure you get there safely.” His words made your jaw drop, a scoff escaping before you could stop it. A grin snuck onto his face once again, that same pinkness returning to his cheeks. “It’s my duty as a hero, and it’s starting to get late! Don’t say no- I’ll do it either way so you may as well accept it.”

With a sigh, you decided that maybe walking home with him again wasn’t so bad. The fluttering in your chest was impossible to ignore, and it gave you more time with the hero so- who were you to complain, really?

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

Ten minutes later, you were sure he’d regret his actions. 

He was dripping wet, the rain having come down hard and fast shortly into your walk and the wind picking up to the point where your umbrella was useless. You weren’t faring much better yourself, trying to shelter your bag as best you could with all your files inside it. The duffel bag he had with him was a little more resistant to water, but even that would only go so far and you could see the bag changing colour as the water started to seep into it. When you finally saw your house in the distance, you sped up a little, jerking your head toward the door when you finally got there and trudging into the hallway with a groan, Lemillion following you in for a brief respite from the rain. 

Looking up at him with his hair flopping into his eyes limply, water dripping off it, you couldn’t help but admire him. He still had a sparkle in his eyes even as he shivered slightly, trying to wring out his cape a little in the entryway to not let it drip all over your floor. Chibi came barrelling over, sniffing at the newcomer with intent as he realised someone had come home. Lemillion smiled broadly as he bent down, stroking the top of the pom’s head and tickling under his chin.

“Hey little guy! Good to see you again!” You dropped your bag to the floor, looking at the hero with a scrutinising eye. He turned to you, tilting his head at your study of him and looking down at his outfit with furrowed brows. “What? Is something wrong?” “Are you done for the day or do you have to rush off?”

He blinked at you. You blinked back at him. 

When he finally shook his head no, you nodded yours and started removing your shoes.

“You can shower and wait here for the rain to stop if you want, don’t want a hero like you catching a cold, now do we?” You tried to sound as nonchalant as possible, though your heart was thundering in your chest. Would he take this the wrong way? You just didn’t want to be the reason he got sick, and it really was throwing it down outside. He seemed to hesitate, making heat rise to your face as you finally wriggled a boot off. “You don’t have to, but I just thought I’d offer.”

When you looked up at him, his face had softened, making your heart thud painfully for a second at the look in his eyes. He sighed, reaching up to rub at the back of his head again. 

(You definitely didn’t admire the way his arm flexed. Nope. No sir.)

( You did. )

“Y’know, I think that’d be gre-” His phone rang in the side pocket of his duffel bag, making him wince as he checked the ID. Tamaki . He raised a finger to you, an apologetic look on his face as he spoke quietly into the phone. You tried not to listen in, frowning as you headed further into your apartment and scratched at Chibi’s head softly when he followed you. 

Tamaki. That was the pro hero Sun Eater, Lemillion’s close friend- or were they more than friends? They’d always been very close from what the tabloids reported, even close enough for a few to claim that they were together romantically, but it was never confirmed. What if they were soulmates? It would make sense, they often spent days off together, often worked together extremely well on missions, so it wasn’t that much of a stretch…

“Sorry ‘bout that! I- uh- I have to go meet someone, he really needs me right now and-” “It’s fine! You go do whatever you gotta do, no harm, no foul! Just try and get out of the rain fast, okay? I don’t want you getting sick.” Your words came out fairly neutral, you hoped, the smile on your face only slightly forced. Lemillion frowned, another apology spilling from his lips as he left your house quickly. 

You looked down at Chibi with a sigh, the dog tilting his head at you and wagging his tail slowly.

“I’m screwed, aren’t I?”

Chibi simply huffed, heading over to his food bowl and placing a paw on it, looking at you imploringly. You shook your head fondly, going to feed the little gremlin before he got too grumpy with you.

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

How you ended up here was beyond your comprehension, really.

Your talks with Lemillion never ceased after the meet and greet. The hero always found time to text you, or call if he needed his hands free while he was cooking or something, forming a rather… odd friendship? There was no one else you spoke to as often, but you also still hardly knew the man. Your little crush, however, didn’t care in the slightest and continued to grow with each day. Trying to hide it was getting easier with time, though, the way you two spoke becoming more and more comfortable, and you didn’t understand why he was really bothering with you in the first place. When you asked him, he had simply chuckled and said a very cryptic I just have to! I’m not too sure why, but I always follow my instincts!

Whatever that meant.

The colder months had creeped in, the leaves changing colour rapidly and the weather turning almost before your eyes. Lemillion- no, Togata , as he had started insisting you called him- was telling you about an upcoming hero gala while you cooked dinner. You had him on speaker phone as you cooked, the man walking home from his patrol as he chatted away. Not properly listening as you cooked, you only caught the end of what he was saying.

“-So you should come too! It’d be fun, and I can introduce you to the others!” 

You choked, lowering the heat on your stove as you scrambled over to your phone on the opposite countertop. 

“I’m sorry- what?! You want me to-?” 

“Yeah! I think it’d be great, don’t you?” Swallowing thickly, your tongue felt too big for your mouth and you sputtered slightly. “Nejire has been asking about you, and Tamaki wants to meet you too! Plus we can hang out properly for a while, please come with me?”

Your face flushed, your heart kicking up a gear as you thought about it. He wanted to go with you? You’d be out of your element around a bunch of heroes but- you couldn’t deny that you wanted to spend more time with him…

“Sure…?” Togata’s answering cheer had you smiling softly at your phone, shaking your head slowly in fondness as you returned to cooking your dinner. 

Which led you to the situation of incomprension.

Weeks later, you’d procured a beautiful long sleeved dress, just thick enough to stave off the cool temperature without a jacket so you could be comfortable. You’d made your way to the venue in a car Togata ordered for you, texting him on the way and smiling when he said he’d meet you at the entrance. As the car pulled up, you saw him standing at the edge of the curb and your breath caught. 

The suit he was wearing was perfectly tailored, sharp lines and fabric clenched around his thick arms and thighs. His face lit up as the car stopped, his hand already outstretched to get the door for you. When you stepped out, his jaw dropped as he took you in.

“W-Wow! You look amazing!” Heat flooded your system at his words, forcing you to look down and tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. 

“You don’t look so bad yourself, Togata…” He chuckled as he closed the door, gesturing toward the venue with a grin. You made your way inside with him, looking around nervously at the expensive decor of the hotel the event was being held at. There were heroes everywhere; Creati, Mirko, Chargebolt and- holy shit was that Deku ? 

What the hell were you doing here? You were nothing in comparison to all of these people, saviours of humanity and fucking heroes and-

And then Togata grasped your wrist softly, and it felt like the world stood still. All you could feel was the warmth of his hand, the tension leaching from your body almost instantly. The noise in the room became a dull echo in the background, all of your senses focused on that single point of contact. 

Heart pounding for an entirely different reason now, you looked up at Togata with a curious face. He smiled down at you, tugging your wrist gently and inclining his head outward one of the quieter corners of the room. As you followed him, you frowned down at his hand, prompting him to drop it.

(You missed the warmth of his hand almost instantly, but you’d never tell anyone.)

“Sorry, Tamaki and Nejire are this way. Tamaki isn’t exactly fond of the big crowds at these kinda things, so you can usually find him in the corners.” Togata had to speak up a little for you to hear him over the din, but as the crowd thinned and you approached the edge of the room, the noise levelled out to be much quieter. Just ahead, leaning against a wall, you recognized Togata’s friends and swallowed thickly. Nejire, as you more commonly knew the hero- looked absolutely stunning in her seafoam green dress, her shoulders bared elegantly. Her hair fell in soft curls around her shoulders, wobbling slightly with every pat on the back that she gave the other person standing against the wall. 

Sun Eater looked like he’d rather be anywhere else- at least, from what you could tell from where he was seemingly trying to become one with the wall by attaching his face to it. Nejire patting his back seemed to be doing absolutely nothing to make him feel better, unintelligible words falling from his mouth in a near constant mumble. As you and Togata approached, Nejire spotted you and immediately lit up, smacking Sun Eater’s back a little harder. 

“Ooooh! Amajiki! They’re here! Look!” Nejire smiled brilliantly as you both came to a stop beside her, finally ceasing her assault of the shy hero. Mirio went to introduce you, but had hardly gotten your name out before she was cutting him off. “I know who she is! Oh wow! We’ve heard so much about you, it’s so nice to finally have a face for the name! I love your hair, and that dress is to die for! Hey, Togata has told us about your quirk and stuff, what’s it like working with the kids? Was it hard to get started in your line of work? How did you know you wanted to do it? Have you been-” “Okay! Nejire, let her breathe!” Togata ended the questioning, placing his hand on your shoulder gently. “This isn’t twenty questions, we’re just here to have a good time. How are you holding up, Tamaki?”

The man in question groaned, turning his face to the side slightly but still not turning around. Togata left your side to go to his friend, placing a gentle hand on his back and leaning in to continue his conversation, leaving you and Nejire alone. She leaned toward you, a grin on her face that you nervously returned.

“Y’know, Mirio talks about you all the time . Like- he’ll be walkin’ around and see something and just- talk about how much you’d like it! It’s adorable!” You flushed at her words, looking down at the floor and grasping one of your wrists with the opposite hand. 

He talked about you? It almost sounded like he- but there was no way! You really hadn’t done anything to earn Togata’s attention. He was more likely just excited about having a new friend.

That must be it.

Togata coaxed Nejire away before you could respond, enlisting her help to get Sun Eater away from the wall. It took a few minutes, the two of them making you giggle at some of the ways they tried to get him to move, but eventually they got the reluctant man away and you all headed into the main hall of the venue. 

And it was stunning. 

Tall ceilings, gold ornaments, thick red velvet curtains. You were miles out of your element.

The event was being held as a fundraiser- an auction where all of the items would be sold and the money would go to charity, and it seemed they were ready to start selling items off. You nudged Togata and pointed towards the refreshments table, letting him know to come find you there after the auction part of the evening. Grabbing a drink and settling into a chair at one of the tables, you watched as pro heroes bid their money on seemingly useless objects for people who made as much money as they did- spa hampers, signed merch from other heroes, tickets to a local play; all things donated by local businesses and the other heroes themselves. 

As the heroes were preoccupied, you took a moment to admire the room, and the outfits of some of the heroes and their dates. Even the waiting staff were dressed to the nines in well pressed suits and-

Wait. 

… Why are there so many waiters gathered by the doors?

Pausing mid sip of your drink, you tilted your head and frowned at the three sets of double doors, watching as the waiters all seemed to have some kind of meeting. You placed your drink down on the table, rising slowly when the waiters spread out across the doors. A person in front of each one leaned their hands against the closed doors, and your heart rate picked up as one of them sealed the door by turning it to stone. Another door became locked shut when roots and vines cracked through the wood, knotting around each other until it was nearly a solid wall, and the last one was encased in what looked like a thick purple paste. Some of the partygoers nearby cried out, prompting the heroes to turn and notice what was going on. A few of the waiters grabbed nearby guests, grasping their hands behind their backs and holding up syringes right over their necks.

Unfortunately, you were standing near one of them. You gasped as your arms were grabbed, twisting behind your back uncomfortably and a needle held just above where your pulse was pounding.

“Hello, heroes! Hope you don’t mind if we crash the party!” The heroes swung their heads back to the stage just in time to see the MC for the auction fall to the floor, blood dripping from a wound on his temple. A large man stood behind him, a cane in his hand with a carved raven on the handle- red liquid dripping from the beak. Draped in a dark cape and a tailored suit, thick sunglasses on his face, the man was grinning widely at the group of heroes before him. “Please, don’t move a muscle! If you do, I’ll be forced to do something- well, just awful. That means you, Deku! And you, Dynamight!” The two heroes in question had moved to the front of the crowd, but halted when the man reached up and took hold of his glasses. The villain slid them down his nose slowly, looking down at the two top heroes with a sick grin. Dynamight growled, moving his arms to his sides, his palms lighting up as he prepared to attack the villain-

Until it suddenly stopped. With a green glow surrounding his body, Dynamight’s body began to turn an odd grayish hue. Deku turned to his friend with a gasp, panic filling his features as the number two hero was turned to stone.

“Like I said- I don’t want to have to petrify so many of Japan’s top heroes in one go, after all! Not to mention- all those lovely hostages around the room would suffer so much if you disobey me…” The villain’s words seemed to echo with how quiet the hall got, your chest beginning to ache in fear as your eyes searched the crowd. Togata’s eyes met yours, his gaze focused entirely on you. Through your tears you could see how tense he was, his teeth bared in a grimace as he realised he couldn’t get to you. His head swung to look over at the villain, your eyes widening at the absolute rage that seemed to vibrate through him. You’d never seen him like this before, how could this be the same man who called you in tears a few weeks ago when he watched a video online about some rescue dogs?

At the front of the crowd, Deku had turned back to the villain. His face was grim, a deep frown directed straight at the stage and his eyes hardened. 

“What have you done to Kacchan?!” “Now, now, don’t worry! I’ll be more than happy to undo it once we get what we came for! And I hate to be so boring as to ask for it, but- we want your money. You came to donate to charity, correct? Well, I have a very worthy charity case for you to donate to! All you have to-” 

A cry sounded from within the crowd, one of the lower ranked heroes launching himself at one of the waiters nearby with a hostage- if you remembered correctly, it was his date. All three of them hit the ground, his date scrabbling back to him as the waiter moved away quickly. 

To your dismay, the waiter that was next along jammed the needle into the neck of his hostage. 

The guest began to scream immediately, the woman’s skin starting to sizzle and steam as she was thrown away from the waiter, her hands scratching at any bare patch of skin and ripping it off of her, as if it was barely even attached. She looked to be in absolute agony, bubbles of skin growing on her face before they popped. 

It was horrifying. 

Tears were falling thick and fast down your cheeks, your body shaking with fear. That same needle was hovering above your neck, above the necks of about 20 people in the room, and it looked like even saving one would result in the death of another.

“I did ask you all to stay perfectly still, you know. I wanted to avoid this…” The villain shook his head in mocking disapproval, as if the woman’s screams weren’t still echoing. “Now, as I was saying… We have a lovely bank account just waiting to be filled with all your precious money, and it’s for a very good cause. Me and all my friends here could really use it!”

The screams had finally died down. The woman was lying on the floor, her skin mostly melted off, still steaming in places. Your eyes found Togata’s once more, his own looking frantic as it really set in that he couldn’t do anything, he couldn’t save you or anyone right now .

You could see the same look on the faces of all the other heroes present. 

Deku looked like he was going to combust, Nejire-Chan and Sun Eater looked at each other with furrowed brows, as if they were trying to figure out their next step.

Togata couldn’t take his eyes off you.

There was a level of desperation there that you didn’t quite understand. Even though the other heroes looked upset at not being able to help their dates and friends, Togata seemed especially upset when his eyes were latched onto your figure. 

You hated it.

That look in his eyes, it was so unlike his usual smiles. Something inside of you bristled at the lack of brightness in his expression. Blinking a few times to try and clear the tears from your eyes, you made sure he was looking at you before giving him a small smile. Reassurance. 

It’s okay. 

Togata’s eyes looked watery, although you couldn’t really tell from this distance, before he suddenly broke eye contact. He grit his teeth, his eyes screwing shut for a moment as he swung his head to glare at the villain.

“All this?! All this just for money ?! You just killed someone !” Togata’s voice cut through the silence, the heroes around him gasping at his outburst. He was shaking with anger, his eyes blazing as the villain simply laughed. 

“Ah-! Not quite! I didn’t kill anybody! After all, I did warn you all that I’d have to do something awful if you didn’t listen!” The villain sounded so full of glee, so proud of what he’d done here.”Besides, it’s only cause of this stupid hero system that people like me struggle to get work and need to resort to this shit! If we could all use our quirks freely then things would be different!”

… wait.

The villain was still ranting, but you couldn’t even hear him anymore. Use your quirk freely… What if you could influence someone? Your eyes roved over the villain, unsure about how this would go… you didn’t have a licence to do hero work, but you did have something of a concession for using your quirk due to working with the kids. No one would even know, there’s no visual representation with your quirk on you , it only shows around the person you’re influencing. So the only people in the room that would know it was you would be Togata, Nejire and Sun Eater… You didn’t know if you were covered with your partial-licence, but surely you had to try.

The other risk was whether or not taking the leader out would impact the waiters. You were hopeful that if you took him out of the equation, in the chaos they’d just drop their hostages, but there was always the risk that they’d just inject their hostages anyway. You had to get a message to someone, somehow…

Togata looked at you again. Locking eyes with him, you schooled your face into the most neutral expression you could, and activated your quirk. A subtle blue glow, almost like a very tiny glitter shower, began around Togata’s ears.

Calm. Collected. Relax.

His face melted from it’s disgruntled rage, his mind clearing for a moment as you stopped your quirk, your eyes shooting to the other hostages and back to him before looking at the villain again. When you looked back at Togata, he didn’t seem to understand for a moment before it seemed to click. 

A nod. A smile.

Togata turned and kept his voice to a low murmur, saying something to the other heroes as subtly as he could while the villain kept yelling about the inadequacy of hero society. You really hoped that he got your idea right.

Please.

When Togata finally looked back at you and nodded, you realised that many of the heroes seemed to be bracing themselves, each one angling their body slowly towards one of the hostages. Relief flooded through you as you turned your eyes toward the villain at the front, focusing on him directly.

Activating your quirk, you were suddenly filled with a chaotic swirl of emotions. What this man felt wasn’t just rage, there was sadness, fear, pain. You didn’t want to do this to him, but there was no other choice. You grunted softly as the blue glow, much stronger this time as you were concentrating so hard, began to sparkle around his ears.

Relax. Calm. Peace. 

He stopped talking. The man’s face, previously screwed up in anger, relaxed swiftly as he stared off into space for a moment and you held onto his emotions as tightly as you could.

A moment was all the heroes needed.

All at once, the heroes jumped, each one launching towards a hostage and knocking the waiters over in the same breath, a coordinated attack. At the same moment, Deku jumped at the main villain, tackling and subduing the man as you finally let your control go, a splitting headache taking up residence in your mind immediately. 

Togata came for you, because of course he did. 

His fist flew past your head and rammed into the waiter’s, the man behind you dropping the needle and falling to the floor, the hand gripped around your wrists ripping your dress as he fell. You stumbled forward, Togata’s arms pulling you into his chest immediately and securing you there. Sobbing immediately, you buried your face into him and clutched at his shirt, eyes screwed closed.

“I knew my soulmate would be smart, but you’re a genius, you know that?” 

... What?

You opened your eyes, ready to question him when your eyes caught on your soul mark, bared thanks to your ripped sleeve on your dress.

Glowing.

Eyes widening, you looked up at Togata, seeing the soft smile on his face even as around you the other heroes were busy dealing with the waiters (who had immediately panicked at their leader being taken down with no fighting) and working on getting the doors open again. He chuckled at your confusion, one of his hands leaving your waist to reach up and cup your cheek carefully. 

“You-? But-? What?” Your brain seemed to grind to a halt, nothing making sense even as you absolutely relished in the warmth of his hand on your cheek and his arm around you. Togata burst out laughing this time, leaning back enough to put a bit of space between you both. He reached for the hem of his shirt, lifting it slightly until his lower abdominals were on display. You would have blushed if your eyes hadn’t locked onto the glowing mark on his hip.

A little seed, with a sprout coming out of it. 

You frowned, looking back up at him and shaking your head slowly until he started speaking again.

“I had a feeling it was you when we first met. It felt like coming home even though we’d never even seen each other before… But I didn’t understand until you explained your job. You’re nurturing the next generation of heroes, your own little seeds, helping them grow. That’s when I really knew it.” Togata looked down at his hip again, smiling fondly at the mark and then back at you. “You’re amazing. I’m so glad it’s you.”

Your eyes filled with tears again at his words, at the soft grin he gave you as he lowered his shirt again, at the pure joy that you could feel radiating off him now that you were out of danger. It was too much, you couldn’t handle it, all the emotions of the day catching up to you as you sobbed. Togata’s eyes immediately widened in panic, his arms shooting around you again and pulling you close. 

Comfort. Safety. Love.

Your quirk was working on it’s own, opening you up to Togata, letting you feel his emotions and pouring your own back into him, his arms stiffening as they registered and he realised they weren’t his own feelings this time, that you felt the same . 

How could you not?

He leaned you back again, hands cupping your face and wiping the tears from your cheeks as he beamed down at you, uncaring that your face was soaked, uncaring that your makeup was running-

He leaned in, and he kissed you.

Just like before, the world stopped.

There was nothing other than you, and him, and the fact that you’d been denying it for months but he was your soulmate . You finally felt like you could breathe after being underwater for so long, like you fit perfectly against him, in his arms. It was intoxicating.

The kiss, while it started loving and almost chaste, a relief that you’d made it through all this, quickly became more desperate as you realised that this man was yours .

And then Nejire cleared her throat.

Togata and you broke apart, faces flushed with heat as you stared at her wide eyed. 

“I’m so psyched that you guys are together and all, but we kinda need to finish up here you two! C’mon, you can suck each other’s faces later !” Nejire walked towards the (now open-when did that happen?) doors, making you realise that in the few minutes you two had carved out together in the chaos, everything had calmed down. Police were escorting the villain and his waiter-lackeys from the building, the heroes were giving their statements to other officers, and ambulances were arriving to help the hostages. Togata helped you toward them, noting how weak you’d become after using your quirk under the circumstances. 

What followed was a few annoying hours of being checked over by the EMT’s, police taking statements, and a lot of suggestive looks between you and Togata. He knew what he was doing, the bastard, taking off his suit jacket and placing it around your shoulders, his smell surrounding you in both comfort and frustration. Rolling up his sleeves so you could see the muscles in his forearms flexing. 

Now that you weren’t yelling at yourself for being attracted to him, it seemed like the flood gates had opened. You were openly ogling him even as they announced that you were free to go, your eyes laser focused on him. As soon as you were standing you made your way straight over, Togata’s eyes catching your movement before you reached him and prompting a smile.

It wasn’t one of his usual smiles.

It seemed that, like you, Togata was feeling the effects of that kiss, an edge of hunger in his eyes and on the curve of his lips that had you aching in your core. As you came to a stop in front of him, he reached for you automatically, pulling you into his side and resting his hand on your hip to keep you pressed against him. He bid the heroes he was talking to goodbye quickly after that, pulling his phone out to get a car called and looking down at you when you were waiting at the curb for it to pull up.

“Can I take you home? Wanna make sure you get in safe.” 

You’ve never nodded so fast in your life.

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

As soon as your door was closed, he was on you.

Togata pulled you toward him, wrapping his arms around you and planting his lips on yours, your own arms wrapping around his neck as you pressed yourself against him. The adrenaline from nearly dying had worn off, but in its wake a new excitement was building in your veins. The thought that this man was all yours was still swirling through your mind, and now that you were pressed up against all that muscle you were aching between your thighs. 

Togata pressed you against the wall in the hallway, parting from you and panting heavily, his forehead pressed to yours. Your hands moved to cup his cheeks, your nose nudging against his gently as you tried to reconnect your lips, feeling him smirk at your insistence. 

“Togata…” A soft utterance of his name had him growling, pressing his lips to yours once again. His hands smoothed down from their place at your waist, moving over your ass and squeezing gently. When he pulled away, he pulled your hips against him, letting you feel his hardness against your stomach. 

“Mirio- Call me Mirio, okay?” His voice had dropped, a roughness to it that wasn’t usually present that made a thrill run down your spine. You nodded, leaning back against the wall and looking up at him with hooded eyes. Mirio took your hand, lifting your wrist- the one with your soul mark on it- to his lips without letting his eyes leave yours, and brushed his lips across the mark itself. Your lashes fluttered at the soft contact, the air around you charging with each movement, your chest beginning to heave.

“Mirio, please…” With his eyes sparkling, Mirio lowered his head slowly, moving past your lips to your jawline, his hand coming up to tilt your head further and allow himself better access to your neck. You gasped as his lips and tongue assaulted your pulse point, your hips nudging toward him in pleasure, the feeling making you throb in need. “M-Mirio, bedroom, n-now…”

The distance seemed to evaporate with how quickly Mirio dragged you through the house, following your directions between heated kisses. As soon as you were in the bedroom, Mirio flung his jacket from your shoulders with a solid yank. 

“I really love you in my clothes, but I also really want you out of ‘em right now…” He murmured against your lips, reaching for the buttons on his shirt and swiftly undoing them, shrugging it off as soon as he could. Your hands had a mind of their own as they roamed his chest, dragging over his nipples and relishing in the little twitch he gave. 

Mirio’s hands moved to your hips once again, starting to drag your dress up by bunching the fabric at your waist bit by bit. Despite the heated atmosphere, and how much the both of you wanted to move this along, Mirio was taking his time where he could, teasing you when he finally pulled it up and over your head. Once your hands were free, they immediately moved to his belt, working it open as he dipped his head down to reconnect your lips. Your dress fell to the floor, his hands fastening to your waist once more as he moved you backwards towards your bed. Mirio helped you lay back, before straightening and undoing his pants properly, letting them drop to the floor and leaving him in some rather tight boxer briefs. 

The outline of his cock was daunting, but it made your mouth water with how thick it looked, the idea of it stretching you forcing wetness to pool between your legs. Mirio made to step forward and out of his pants-

Only to get his feet tangled and fall over, barely catching himself on the edge of the bed.

You burst into giggles, covering your mouth to stifle them when Mirio shot you a look of exasperation. He struggled to unhook his feet from the fabric, groaning in frustration before ultimately deciding to use his quirk, letting the fabric pass through his feet as he crawled onto the bed.

You reached for him as soon as he was done stepping out of his pants, grasping his shoulder and neck to bring his lips back to yours. With only your panties and his briefs in the way, you could feel him pressed against you so much clearer, the pressure on your clit forcing a whine from deep in your chest. 

Mirio smirked into your kiss, rolling his hips forward as he settled between your legs, eliciting a gasp that he took full advantage of, slipping his tongue into your mouth. 

Having his hands roving over your body, feeling each and every curve, squeezing at your flesh- you felt like you were on fire, Mirio’s desire for you evident in the way his hips rolled desperately against you, the cling of your panties to your soaked core betraying just how much you wanted him in return. 

“Been thinking of you like this for so long…” Mirio muttered between kisses, moving his kisses back to your neck, down to your collarbone and nibbling at the flesh there. Your back arched, Mirio taking advantage of the opportunity once again to reach behind you and start undoing your bra.

After a moment of struggle that elicits giggles form the both of you, he finally gets the damn thing undone and drags it off. He stops for a moment, leaning back and admiring the view of you utterly debauched below him, eyes hooded, lips kiss swollen, chest heaving. Reaching to cup your cheek for a moment, he rubs your cheekbone with his thumb and chews at his lip for a moment.

“I don’t- I’m not super experienced , if you know what I mean…” His face flushed at his admission, eyes focused on tracing your jawline instead of making eye contact. You giggled at him, reaching up to cover his hand with your own as you turned to nuzzle into it. 

“I’m hardly the queen of experience either, you know. But this already feels so much better than anything else…” Mirio smiled at your words, finally looking into your eyes again. He leaned down, nuzzling at your breast for a moment before sucking your nipple into his mouth, dragging his teeth slowly over the peak and watching as your face contorted in pleasure. 

The air between you became charged with tension once again, Mirio’s hand moving between your thighs and softly stroking at your slit over your panties. He groaned as he felt how soaked you were already, his teeth biting down a little harder on your nipple. Your legs flexed around his hips in response, a soft moan escaping that he relished in. 

He suddenly growled, leaning back and letting your nipple go with a soft pop as he focused on practically ripping your panties from your body. Considering he said he wasn’t overly experienced, the way he flipped the switch and had your knees by your ears, his mouth covering your cunt and eating you with fervor- you wouldn’t have thought he was even the same man.

You cried out at his assault, his tongue flicking over your clit between it’s journeys into your walls, his hands pressed behind your knees to keep you folded over. Hands flying to the sides of your head, you screwed the sheets up in your fists with how hard you gripped them. Your mouth hung open, pants and moans constantly falling from your lips as your eyes screwed shut, almost overwhelmed already. The pressure was already building so rapidly, the knot in your belly tightening by the second. You panted his name, Mirio’s efforts increasing even more when he heard your voice so strained.

When you finally crested the wave of pleasure, your head thrown back into the pillow, Mirio took every drop you gave him, your cunt crying out for something to fill it, aching with need. When he finally let you drop back to the bed, your legs flopping either side of his hips, you pushed up and latched your mouth to his instantly. 

You’d never wanted someone so bad in your whole life, something in you snapping as you pressed up into him. Desperation laced your movements and you reached down, pushing his briefs down enough to free his cock and wrapping your hand around it, swallowing up his answering hiss and pulling him back on top of you, maneuvering your hips to line him up instantly. 

Mirio’s hands flew to your hips, stilling their movements and ripping his lips from yours with a growl. 

“You definitely-” “Mirio, if you don’t fuck me right now, I’ll take care of it myself. I have toys in that drawer.” He froze at your words, tilting his head as he processed your words. He shook his head, reaching down to replace your hand with his as he rubbed his cock up and down your slit, bumping against your clit to tease you.

“We’re revisiting that later, but right now…” Mirio pushed his hips forward, his jaw going slack as your walls engulfed him in slick heat. You yourself weren’t fairing much better, eyes rolling at how thick he was, at the little burn of the stretch even though you’d already come once, your wetness helping him slide home until he was filling you to the hilt. 

Mirio waited for your go ahead, waiting until you gripped his shoulders tight and gasped out a please … 

And then he started moving, and you were soaring. 

The drag of his cock in your walls was heaven, his big hands gripping your hips and lifting you into each thrust and slamming his cock into that spongy spot inside you pulling sinful moans from your lips. Mirio watched your face as you writhed in pleasure, his heart hammering in his chest at finally being with his soulmate, your own heart pounding in time with his. 

“So beautiful like this… you really were made for me, huh?” He punctuated his words with an especially harsh thrust that had your vision whiting out for a moment as you nodded, your nails digging into his shoulders making him hiss and screw his own eyes shut. The view above you was glorious, his broad chest and shoulders with their rolling muscles with every movement. His face, torn between watching you and enjoying his own pleasure, teeth bared with his efforts to make you feel good. You couldn’t take it, your climax approaching too rapidly, your legs tightening around his hips as you tried to gasp out a warning, to tell him you were close-

“ Fuck - I can feel you, baby, come for me, please …” 

Your head threw back once again, throat bared to him as you were overcome by pleasure, your soul mark shining brightly for a moment as you clenched down onto him. He grunted through it, his own mark glowing as his hips stuttered, burying himself deep inside you as he filled your walls with white, until both of you bonelessly fell to the bed. Your marks glowed for a moment longer, before their lights slowly ebbed away, settling down once more. 

Mirio panted above you, holding his weight up on his elbows so he wouldn’t crush you while you caught your breath too.

When he finally pulled out, you groaned at the feeling of emptiness as he pulled you into his arms, flopping onto his back beside you on the bed. You’d both need to clean up soon, go to bed properly, but as you stared at your soul mark resting against his chest, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to move just yet. 

Looking up at Mirio, you smiled when you caught him already watching you, a cheeky grin on his face. Thinking back, you had no idea how you hadn’t figured it out sooner.

Mirio was of the purest, childlike glee. The sunshine of anyone’s life, whoever knew him could attest to that. Your mark made more sense than any other mark you’d seen in your life. 

“... So... toys?” 

...You were going to hit him, sunshine man or not.

[howtofightwrite]

First of all, I was very happy to see you share your opinions on assassin tropes and fight scenes. You brought up a lot of good points that I hadn't even considered in my early drafts! That being said, I'm trying to craft a game where the player starts out as a rookie. This means that I'll need a plausible way for someone to join a criminal organization without having grown up in that kind of scene. My original draft had the player join under the threat of exposure to the police, but I'm not sure if that's the best way to go. If you don't mind, then what are your thoughts? What other ways could get someone involved?

So, I'm pretty sure googling, “how to join a criminal organization,” will put you on some kind of list. Or, at least do some really goofy things to your search algorithms. So, with that in mind, this is going to be a little spotty, and there are different kinds of criminal organizations, which utilize different recruitment techniques.

Sometimes, the neighborhood background is mandatory. If your character didn't grow up around the organization, they're not trusted, and would not be able to join at all. This can apply to both gangs and organized crime. In other cases, not having that background would only be a serious impediment or create a glass ceiling.

Another common recruitment point is in prison. If an individual is so inclined, prison can function as an institute of higher education in criminality. It gives the convict access to criminals in an environment where their own status as a criminal is unlikely to be questioned. It gives them the opportunity to network with other criminals, and that can lead to options for (illegal) work once they've finished serving their sentence. I haven't followed up on it in a few years, but there's a YouTube channel by Larry Lawton, who used to be a professional armed robber, who discusses a lot of this in more detail, so his videos may be worth checking out for more context on how prison serves as higher education for aspiring criminals.

In some cases, criminal organizations might directly recruit individuals. The problem here is, most of the time it's children. So it becomes part of that, “growing up in the neighborhood,” background you're trying to avoid. Sometimes this is to use the kids as intentional cutouts, lookouts, or decoys, though not always, and how that shakes out depends on who recruited them.

In very rare cases, a criminal organization might seek to directly recruit an adult. Before you get excited about this, the only cases of this I'm aware of are former military, expats who have been approached by cartels, and this was certainly more of, “an offer you can't refuse,” style of recruitment. Now, to be clear, a criminal organization coercing someone into doing their bidding isn't particularly strange, but it's not usually a form of recruitment.

Another recruitment vector that's been a problem in recent years has been in the US military itself. This was an inevitable outgrowth of the policy of sending convicts to serve in the armed forces. Instead of reforming, they simply bring their criminal experience with them, and start looking around at prospective talent. It's enough of a problem that the military (usually) won't accept someone who's signing up in exchange for a deferred sentence, but some individuals do get through. While I haven't heard anything about it in the last few years, it did lead to a fairly significant gang problem that the armed forces were dealing with.

So, the options aren't extremely extensive. Doing a stint is probably the easiest route in for a character who already tried to get into a life of crime, but doesn't have the connections to make a go of it. If your character just randomly showed up at a criminal hangout, it wouldn't get them any access to the local criminal underworld.

-Starke

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[am-i-the-asshole-official]

wibta if i refused to help my classmates going forward?

i am in university for a science degree. i have been struggling for almost my entire degree due to undiagnosed ADHD and autism, as well as my habit from grade school of working myself too hard. i went into burnout from 2020-2022 and failed most courses i took. i had to cut down on my work significantly so i could stay in university and finish my degree. it's been 5 years and i'm just over halfway finished. the end's not in sight yet, but it's getting there.

this semester, i'm taking two courses that i've struggled in previously and am retaking actually. the term will most likely be over once this is posted. one i've finished twice but didn't have a high enough grade to move forward (chemistry) and the other i've dropped 2 times before to avoid failing (calculus). the subject areas might give more context, and my chemistry course isn't introductory. they're also notoriously very difficult, and most people end up retaking this chemistry course several times. they're both needed for my degree and a similar degree. someone in both classes (2 different people) made group chats specifically so we could help each other. at first it was a very good idea, and i myself benefitted from them, managing to get a really high mark on a math assignment because of the group chat and sharing our work/processes.

this term is the one term we have a mid-semester break, and while the details are irrelevant here, i went away during this break, and i came back in a fairly poor mental state. i didn't want to share my work anymore, and said i was uncomfortable doing so. this got me mocked (i believe, but no one's commented on it or said anything to me about it) in my math class group chat when i asked for the notes after having to leave class early due to the noise. i have misophonia, and i was incredibly close to shouting "shut the fuck up" one say when they honestly just wouldn't stop talking. it's been a problem this term in this class where several groups in the class have been chatting amongst themselves during lecture. my friend (i think we're friends?) emailed our professor (i think i was named in the email), and he addressed the class about it, but as a whole, has told me directly that there wasn't much else he could do about it since they might be talking to each other to understand better.

at this point, there's only about 3 weeks left of classes and then finals, so it's not worth dropping out, especially since i don't think i'm in danger of failing. but that was all kind of just background info. it's been a rough semester for me.

in my chemistry class, we have weekly lab reports. they aren't huge, 10+ page reports, and i can usually do them in about 2-3 hours of work total. i usually work on them in small pieces throughout the week, so i can focus on other assignments as well as lectures. they're due at the beginning of lab, and we have lab on friday afternoons. this wouldn't be an issue if not for thursdays.

at the beginning of the semester, i made myself kinda known as Someone Who Has Answers. i like to help people when they're struggling, and i know that these are difficult classes, and i have past experience taking them with these instructors specifically, so i helped in any which way i could. after our mid-semester break, i was in no mood to help anyone. but on thursday evenings and friday mornings, i would get text messages from a few people asking me about the lab report. but not just a few messages. i would get asked on EVERY BIT of the lab report. i try to be patient, as i understand hidden struggles. but i was at the end of my rope. i never snapped, and i always tried to help them, but sometimes i was very frustrated because on thursdays, i have 2 classes (doesn't sound like a lot, but at my school, my lectures are 2-3 hours long, so it's about 5 hours total of lectures) at two different campuses, so i leave at about 7:30am and get home at about 5:30-6:00pm. it's my night to clean the kitchen as well, so my patience is very thin at the end of the day. i never agreed to help them, and they are texting me. i don't know how to tell them "i'm in no mood to help" but it made me so upset to the point that i was saying that next semester, i wouldn't give my number to anyone. i'm not a tutor, and i'm struggling to stay afloat myself in these classes. i don't have all of the answers, and tbh i'm not even confident on most of my answers. i've tried to make this clear, but they still come to me for help. next semester, i'm retaking ANOTHER course that i failed (not failed, but didn't get a high enough mark to move forward) and i honestly feel like a dick for not helping when i could and should help.

this is probably a nonissue tbh. i'm on the verge of dropping out myself because i took on too much this semester and this just kinda feels like it's all more than i can handle.

What are these acronyms?