#at least shin is silly while being murderable

[daily-yttd-something]

Day 164: Hate you, Midori. Hate you

[alloveydovey]

Hellooooo, dramas from this past month :) I had a lot of fun watching most of these, which hadn't been happening lately.

The Story of Park’s Marriage Contract, 2023 (kdrama) 7.5/8

A woman from the past travels to the future where she meets a man who resembles her deceased husband. In need of a wife, he strikes a contract with her, and blah blah blah, you know what happens next.

The chemistry was there 100%, the comedy too, but overall, I think it was just a mid watch for me. I was three episodes away from finishing but was struggling big time because I was getting bored.

The Romance of Tiger and Rose, 2020 (cdrama) 8

A scriptwriter ends up inside her own creation as a side character who dies early on in the drama and has a really bad reputation.

This was hilarious. Laughing out loud alone type of hilarious. It didn't make any sense at all, and it was extremely silly and sometimes even frustrating, but both actors were so great with the comedy (Zhao Lusi the actress that you are), so everything was just fun and romantic and cute... and weird enough, emotional af as well. I love these types of dramas where, after watching, you kinda feel empty inside lol. Comfort drama material? 100%

My Demon, 2023/24 (kdrama) 8

A demon becomes powerless after crossing paths with a cold heiress (who he obviously knew in their, guess what? Yes, past lives)

Kim Yoo Jung and Song Kang (his character is everything) were so cute in this! Their chemistry was definitely chemistring. I loved the concept and all, but for some reason, I couldn’t put my whole heart into this drama, which resulted in me being a bit disappointed. I’d get bored sometimes. I still don’t know if it’s my problem though. Maybe it wasn't the right time to watch it since I had been watching so many dramas with similar storylines. I’ll give them this, though, these two were truly a comedic duo™️

My Man is Cupid, 2023/24 (kdrama) 8

A love fairy accidentally shoots himself with an arrow and ends up in love with a human, condemning him and his group of cupids to 500 years on Earth. In modern day, he gets entangled with a veterinarian who might be connected to what happened in the past. Also! Murder mystery.

This one just goes to prove that liking a drama is all about vibes for me. Is this different from what I’ve been watching? Nope. It’s not better than the other ones above with similar premises. Yet somehow, unlike the others, it got my attention way more, and I totally binged it. Even when this particular one had some very confusing, probably so-so writing, moments. Granted, it has Nana in it. Nana makes everything worth it (Jang Dong Yoon was cute as well lol).

My Girlfriend is a Gumiho, 2010 (kdrama) (rewatch!) 7.5 ⭐️

A cute gumiho saves an irresponsible rich kid who wants to become an action star by giving him her bead. Both of them gotta stick together while he heals.

Like I said back when I first saw this, COMFORT!! And I was in the mood for something silly and sweet after the same themes over and over again. I can't get over how cute Shin Min A and Lee Seung Gi are in this.

Falling Into You, 2022 (cdrama) 9

A student-athlete wants to do high jump but doesn't have the required height for the sport, so a postgraduate student-coach decides to take him under her wing and train him. Noona love story ensues.

So... I have a lot of mixed feelings about it because, all in all, I think this is one of the best cdramas I've watched. It's beautifully shot, the music is incredible, and the pacing, story, characters, and acting are all impeccable. Aside from Meet Yourself (fav ever) it's truly one of the most naturally acted cdramas I've seen so far as well. Even outside the romance part, everything was really good.

Now, was it inappropriate? For me, at least, I think it was. This young student is supposed to be 20, and his coach is said to be about to turn 28. They are both consenting adults (let's put it that way), but the power dynamics thing is still there. Overall, it was a nice surprise, and I completely binged it.

Welcome to Samdal-ri, 2023/24 (kdrama) 9

After a scandal, a famous photographer runs back to her hometown. Her ex, with whom she had an intense fallout (childhood friends to lovers), is there, and it seems like neither of them has moved on. (Also about family, and grief)

From the moment I saw Shin Hye Sun and Ji Chang Wook's pictures next to one another on a tweet saying they were going to be in a new drama together, I knew this was going to be a 10/10 in my books. Maximized joint slay. Add the hometown cha cha cha vibes, and you have an amazing tear-jerker drama. The rest of the cast is a great complement as well; their acting and their stories just make everything really emotional (I cried a lot lol), but it is 100% worth the watch. I'll be honest about one thing, though. As much as I loved it, it took me a while to finish the last two episodes cause I feel like they dragged the story a bit.

Princess Hours/Goong, 2006 (kdrama) 8

In a reimagined modern SK, a girl from an ordinary family gets hitched to the crown prince because of a promise both of their grandparents made in the past. A Diana x Charles x Camilla drama ensues (but like, with a happy ending).

This is what I like to call DRAMA™️. The type you hate everyone's behaviors, and you laugh, and you hate the ML, but you also want him to get with the FL, and you start hate watching, and then you giggle when they share moments and completely forget ML is a really shitty person lol. I started this cause I got sick, and I got way into it. ML being a major asshole and the FL having no self-respect (like the good old dramas and telenovelas) aside, I enjoyed binging this, and I can see why it was so popular. Their romance, though deeply flawed and a product of the time the drama was made, had some great moments, slow burn and natural as well. I was lowkey hoping for a happier ending, tho, but it was cute enough. Also, music bro, that main song is never getting out of my head. Comfort drama material: 100%

Playful Kiss, 2010 (kdrama) 5

FL confesses to ML, and he rejects her harshly. When her house collapses, her father moves them in with an old friend, who ends up being ML's father.

So after Goong, I thought I'd probably be able to watch this. Wrong. Shin's got nothing wrong in comparison so Seung Jo. Seung Jo is probably my most disliked ML ever lol. I binged this, hoping it'd get better, or just like Shin in Goong, he'd change a bit after getting together with FL. But nope, he remained an asshole throughout the whole thing. Gotta love that consistency. Comfort drama material: 1% (I saw the comments on Viki, and I don't know how people rewatched this, lol.)

[electriczayre]

💭 (ooo you wanna infodump soooo bad ooooo *enables you enables you enables you*)

💭 - What is your favorite YTTD AU idea?

sighhhh i know u asked this just so i could talk abt one of my own AUs. alright *brings out the notecards*

Before I do that, I do wanna at least mention an AU that isn't mine. I really like moonviewingtruth's Floormaster Shin AU! he's super silly and not at all murderous haha nope not gonna kill me if i give him a headpat and a hug

So anyway. My favorite of my AUs is probably Trialswitch!

My swap AU and my shift AU are fun (if the latter rather underdeveloped), but Trialswitch is a more unique idea that I really enjoy. The whole premise of the AU is that Shin's first trial and Sara's first trial are changed to be different than what they were in canon; Sara's is meant to harden her and emotionally distance her, while Shin's is meant to boost his confidence and make him believe in his own abilities.

The AU follows a protagonist Shin as he faces up against his past demons and learns to stand up for himself against his past abuser, and to trust a little more the people around him that genuinely want to help. On the flip side, poor Sara is Really Going Through It and is acting roughly how I believe she would in the AI simulations, but I do want her to eventually find a way to connect with everyone later down the line. Might be moments before death though like with Shin in canon LMAO

Also a fun part of this AU is that instead of it being roughly everyone standing with Sara vs Shin alone (or swapped in this case), it's a bit more equal. Some people like Sara and trust her, some people are wary of her but find Shin likeable, and a few people don't really trust either of them. And we see Mishima being a guide and a friend to Shin which I think is a really fun and underrated dynamic yippieee

I don't really have a lot of story for this AU but I can share this planning doc I made and this script doc I made both of which I have not updated in eons

[princesseevee06]

heyheyhey!! 'Your Turn Ryoko' is very yummy and i love your brainrotting and art so much T_T its really cool to see the yttd cast in different roles! i am oh so very invested hehsjfhsj

noww, i was wondering what Maple and Midori's dynamic/relationship is like in your au? 👀

(i ask this because i was thinking to myself how funny it'd be if Maple was still Out To Murder™ Midori at the beginning of their relationship [or something akin to that,] and if Midori was still Terrified™ of her even as a human HAHA though its unlikely ^^")

also, if Sou and Shin are taking the roles of Shin and Kanna respectively.. what does that mean for the main game of chapter 2.... o.o

but yeah, dont feel pressured to answer anything if its too spoilery or just straight up wrong haha!! i love your au and i look forward to seeing more :D

hello bread!!! (is it,, okay if i call you that??? i dont really know what else to 😭) thank you for continually being so kind and supportive about my au and art in general ;-; i am glad someone enjoys my silly ramblings. i also think your art is super duper cool!!!

okok for the maple and sou question: so because maple wanting to kill him was kind of part of her programming as an obstructor, that wouldn’t really apply here, but that idea is still SO funny to me?? i’ll def have to doodle that at some point lmaooo

their dynamic here is actually really polite! i see them as being good buddies :) maple is one of the participants who’s closer to sou, because she very much wants to work together with the others and see the good in everyone. it’s very much like. “awwww what a nice guy!” and then the guy in question is plotting murder ahsjkskdks

just as an example:

although, i still can def see sou being a little bit scared of her, because maple very much can be scary when she wants to. she’s very opposed to the ideas that the death game perpetuates, what with suspecting and betraying one another, and so while most of her ire is directed towards the floormasters, she can also get pretty pissed when the actual participants try to trick each other. so…yeah, sou tries to stay on her good side and be a nice boy. but he also does genuinely think she’s neat!

for the shin and sou question: i wasn’t actually going to talk about the second main game for at least a little while, but im horrible at keeping secrets anyways and talking about this excites me, so why the hell not!!

so, while over time i’ve leaned less into the idea of a character’s “role” determining the actions they take (e.g. just because shin takes kanna’s role doesn’t mean he acts like kanna), the one thing i have stuck to is that when one character takes another’s role, they will always die at the same point in the story. i wanted to also incorporate ‘branching paths’ for ytr as well, because it’s one of the things that really sticks out to me about yttd!

…so yeah the second main game vote is either between voting for shin or sou (or technically ranmaru, but then everyone else would die). it’s vv tragic to me, because i love both of them </3 but i do what i must for angst.

i’m definitely going to give the main games their own posts (and almost 100% some art as well) in the future, but if you’ll allow me to get a bit rambly about shin and sou’s dynamic here and how it affects the main game, ehehe… ^_^

sou and shin at the beginning of the death game very much start out with ulterior motives. yes, they are friends, but they also gain something out of allying with each other: someone who they can rely on/who can vouch for them, which improves their chances of surviving. so they act all buddy-buddy, but there’s definitely tinges of manipulation going on from both sides (and while they realize exactly what’s happening they still acknowledge that this “trade-off” (both literally and metaphorically lol) is a good deal for both of them)

but throughout the death game they end up getting a lot more comfortable/vulnerable with each other, and soon enough they realize they really care about each other (really, they have the whole time). and this obviously complicates things because them wanting to protect each other throws a wrench in the whole “every-man-for-himself” ideology they’ve been preaching.

so, kind of like kanna, sou tries to get the sacrifice card during the second main game trading phase, but he does it with the intention of having him and shin escape together. …he does not actually get the card because the cards get swapped by gashu (there’s different reasoning for why they’re swapped this time but i’ll get into that in another post as well probably). hence, pain.

i envision the end of the 2nd main game being almost a screaming match between the two as they desperately try to convince everyone else to “vote for me so he can live!” (sort of like the shin and kanna vote but even angrier) (because kanna is a sweetheart and sou is Not) (it’s horribly ironic as i’d consider shin and sou the two characters with the strongest survival instinct in this cast, yet they are both driven to self-sacrifice here)

okok uhhhh sorry for the long tangent as you can see i’m evidently insane about these two’s dynamic in this au! ANYWAYS this vote is a lot different from the shin & kanna one because no matter who ryoko votes for as the tiebreaker, the one who survives will be PISSED. and by god they try everything to make her life a living nightmare in chapter 3 (because. being ryoko is suffering)

…i apologize so much this is probably incoherent because at the time of writing this it was past 1AM. but regardless thank you so much for the ask and your continuous support, and expect more content soon!!! :DD

[redorich]

rating hermits based on whether i'd fight them

1. bdubs. i want to put this man in a blender i want to glue him to the wall like a dartboard i want to splash him with a few drops of water so that he microwaves well i want to crinkle him up like paper and chew on him. he would bite me and i would catch every disease ever

2. cleo. p,,pretty zombie lady,,,,,,, red hair and Evil............... 😳

3. jevin. is he made of goop or bones. i think it's goop and when i punch him my hand will sink into his body this man is made of non-newtonian fluid and i am armed with seventeen bendy straws of unreasonable silliness

4. grian. he's like the meme of the smug cat surrounded by knives, punching him would be so satisfying but he would hold up a bucket and as i go to punch him my hand would get stuck in the bucket and he would mock me for looking stupid because my hand is stuck in a bucket

5. mumbo. i'd fight him because i know i'd win. he smells like prey

6. tango. he would make very fun noises as i hit him with a brick, he is a very squeaky flavor of man.

7. keralis. he's, like, deceptively good at pvp??? specifically running away???? i'd be running around trying to catch him for like two hours while he occasionally divebombs me and makes vaguely lewd references to my mother. 10/10

8. wels. he'd fight with honor and i would love to beat him with the old pocket sand trick and/or pantsing him

9. iskall. he's a really talented pvp'er and easygoing, i feel like i would have a lot of fun fighting him and learn a lot of stuff. i definitely wouldn't win most of our fights but i'd enjoy them just the same. he seems like a pretty good sport :)

10. false. she's talented and i would like to have a friendly sparring match with her :)

11. pearl. listen she;s a prety lady am i supposed to say "NO miss moon i don't wanna spar you" like??? of course i'll fight her 😳

12. stress. i feel like she deserves to go a little bit feral <3

13. beef. shaped like a friend. would have fun sparring

14. hypno. i don't know him very well but i am always down to attack <3

15. xb. same as hypno but his name has an x in it which makes him at least 12% cooler

16. zedaph. he's just a little science guy your honor. i feel like i would seek him out with the intention of beating him up for his lunch money and three hours later i would find myself balancing apples on top of my head while he shoots them off with a cannon wondering how did i get here

17. cub. i'd do it if provoked but otherwise no. there would be consequences for my actions and i'm not accustomed to facing those

18. impulse. his voice sounds like a smile, you're telling me i'm meant to viciously bite and kill and murder him?? :((

19. joe. let's just say that while joe himself is very beat-uppable, he's way smarter than i'll ever be and he'll probably figure out a dozen ways to be maliciously compliant and ruin my day. also, joe is fuck around and cleo is find out and i want to be prepared when she stands behind me with a wide grin and a baseball bat full of nails

20. ren. this man is just living his life, roleplaying his little heart out. i'll give the no-beating-up-privileges pass to ONE (1) theater nerd. wilbur soot eat your heart out

21. gem. MY LITTLE SCRUNKLY POO 🥺 MEOW MEOW HONKA WIMBUS ❤️💓💖💗 ia m gay

22. scar. physically, i could kill him, but emotionally? never. plus he'd probably make me severely regret it, being one of the reigning kings of Shenanigans

23. doc. he has an intimidating voice but i am 100% sure i could beat him up if i really wanted to . sure he can fight but will he? probably not. why would i want to beat him up, though? he's the goat. he is a wet sock and i am going to put him in the dryer set to low heat, delicates only

24. etho. he'd probably kick my ass if i stepped to him, and whether i beat him or not i'd probably be pranked for the rest of my days

25. tfc. if you'd fight tfc i'll fight you. tfc has actually done nothing wrong in his life, ever,

26. xisuma. i'd kick him in the shin once and he'd ask me if i'm doing alright, if i need to talk or need some help with something, and three hours later i'm sobbing into his arms about my childhood while he tells me it's okay to have unresolved feelings about my relationship with my parents

[chaoticpuff17]

Something Wicked

part 12

masterlist

Warning: major character death, yandere behavior, violence

Hello, my darlings. This is unfortunately the last chapter of SW except for perhaps an epilogue, but I’m still undecided on that. It’s been a ride. Thank you all so much for reading! Enjoy!--- chaotic puff

Much like everything else in her life, Jin chose her dress for the evening and embarrassingly enough, her undergarments as well. She had to admit though that the dress was flattering. Should she have expected anything less though? Nothing in the closet was particularly unflattering. Jin had picked everything so that she would match the image of the dazzling Kim Seokjin. She was long since unsurprised by any of it though. Weeks under Jin’s thumb had left her a shell of herself. She didn’t even have the dog to keep her company anymore. Jin had sent him out to a kennel in preparation for their honeymoon a week in advance. He wanted all of her focus to be on him and the wedding. The dog was deemed an unnecessary distraction. It was just another little thing that made her resent him on an ever growing list.

It was more was becoming more and more of a struggle just to keep herself together, but no one ever would have guessed from looking at her. That was what it meant to be a part of the Kim family, unending grace and poise, never a hair out of place. She had to assume that this was why the heads of the family had even gone along with Jin’s decision to marry her. Not only was he their golden son, but she was perfectly matched to their image of a daughter-in-law in all but family background. They could overlook her lack of background when she was suitable in all other categories and Jin, their most darling son, had chosen her.

She stared at herself in the mirror trying to reconcile the woman before her with the memory of who she had been before everything had happened. This woman was elegant, refined, empty, nothing more than a puppet on a string. The color of the dress made her ill. Red. Red dress. Red shoes. But it was not the bright red that was associated so commonly with weddings. No, this was a deep wine red closer to the color of the bruises so carefully hidden all across her body.

The bruises that marred her wrists were only highlighted by the color as was the hickey that Jin had so meticulously placed on her neck. The halter top of the dress did nothing to distract the eye from the offending mark, and neither did the earrings that Jin had provided her with. A thin string of diamonds fell from her ear ending at her jaw in a perfect pear shaped gem. He had even instructed her to wear her hair up. The simply pony tail she had chosen over a bun provided some cover, but it still left her neck and the mark there exposed for all to see.

Jin didn’t need to hide the marks on her body though. This was his family, and they wouldn’t question his actions. Why would they? Jin could do as he pleased. He could probably even get away with murder if he so chose. He already had if her suspicions about Minseok were correct.

The thought of her love made her heart ache. She couldn’t help the guilt that swept through her at the thought of him. If it hadn’t been for her, he would still have been alive. If she had never agreed to that first date, Jin would have had no reason to act against him. She could only hope that whatever Jin had done with him had been swift, though she doubted it. The Jin she had come to know was anything but merciful. He was many things, a narcissist being among them, but he was not merciful.

“Y/N?” He called walking into the closet where she was getting ready. “Darling?” he called again stopping with a smirk in the middle of the room as he took in the sight of her through the mirror. “You look lovely, darling. Absolutely beautiful.”

Her answer was robotic, ingrained. “Thank you, Jin.”

“Are you ready, darling? I don’t want to keep my parents waiting.”

“Yes, Jin.” She nodded turning to face him though keeping her eyes downcast in submission. He liked her submissive. It fed his ego. “I just need to grab a coat, and I’ll be ready.”

He hummed instructing her to stay where she was as he began to rifle through her side of the closet. Of course she wouldn’t be allowed to choose her own coat. How silly of her to ever think she had a choice.

He returned moments later with a black coat in hand carefully draping it over her helping her into the soft material before stepping back so she could fasten the garment around her. If there was one thing she was grateful for, it was that Jin’s fashion sense never drifted to the risqué in anything other than the array of lingerie he provided. Everything else was demure, fitting for the wife of such an important man. None of her dresses and skirts were shorter than the tops of her knees, and her necklines were always modest with only the barest hint of cleavage being revealed if any at all. Even the coat draped around her was demure. It fell down past her knees stopping at the tops of her shins. The collar was high providing coverage to her neck and half hiding the mark Jin had left there, and like everything else in her wardrobe, it was high quality.

“You look lovely in Dior, darling.” Jin murmured placing a kiss just under her jaw as she finished fastening the belt around her waist.

It was cinched more than it would have been before all of this. The stress of living under Jin’s tyranny had seen a drastic decline in her weight. She never stepped on a scale. She didn’t know where one was, but she wouldn’t have been surprised to find that she had lost twenty pounds or more over her weeks with Jin. Even her hair had suffered. Clumps of it would come out in the shower as it had in her college days during exam weeks or during times of extreme stress. She could barely recognize herself in the sharp angles and hollow eyes of the woman that stared back at her in the mirror.

“Shall we, darling?” Jin grinned offering her his arm, which she reluctantly took allowing him to lead her out of the penthouse for the first time since he had taken her.

One of the hardest pills to swallow was the look of surprise on Jin’s driver’s face when he saw her. She had known Suho for years. They had commiserated on more than one occasion on the harsh realities of working for a perfectionist like Jin, but he looked almost as though he had seen a ghost. Perhaps he had. She certainly felt like one.

“Mr. Kim.” Suho stuttered opening the door of the car for them his eyes still wide with shock.

Jin ushered her into the car first throwing Suho a harsh glare as he did. She was his to look at, not some lowly driver’s. Jin didn’t like other men staring at her, but Suho had been a loyal member of staff for years and quickly averted his gaze without another word as soon as he felt Jin’s glare upon him. He liked Y/N, but not enough to risk Jin’s wrath by attempting to speak with her or take any further notice of her.

The ride out to the family estate was silent. Jin fiddled with his phone while resting heavy hand on her thigh as they drove through the city. There was nothing for her to do but stare at the city as it went past. The path was a familiar one. She’d been to the family home before on multiple occasions. She had never suspected that it would be under these circumstances though. If someone had asked her a few months ago if she could see herself marrying Kim Seokjin, she would have laughed in their faces. She would have given anything to go back to those days, to go back to the day she had first entered Kim Seokjin’s life and turn and run for the hills. There was no use lingering on such thoughts though. This was her life, retched as it may be. She had to survive even if it meant submitting to someone as vile as Seokjin.

The house looked much like it always did, grand and imposing much like the people who inhabited it. She had never been fond of Jin’s parents. She’d always felt out of place in the large house. Seokjung was really the only member of the family that Y/N liked, but it wasn’t as if she knew him very well. That didn’t matter though. It wasn’t as if she got a say in who her in-laws were. She didn’t get a say in any of it.

When they exited the car, Mrs. Kim was standing there ready to greet them, well to greet Seokjin at least. She was an accessory on her son’s arm.

“Jinnie!” She cooed rushing forward to hug her son a smile stretched across her painted lips. “It’s been too long!”

“Eomma.” He greeted hugging her back. “This is Y/N.” He stepped back pushing her forward and bringing her to his mother’s attention.

“The assistant.” She mused staring down her nose at her. “She’s pretty at least.” She huffed taking her son by the arm and pulling him into the house with Y/N trailing behind. “Your father and I have been looking forward to seeing you. I can’t believe that my little boy is all grown up and getting married.” She sighed dramatically stopping in the foyer so that a maid could take both of their coats.  

“Son.” Mr. Kim walked into the room greeting his younger son in the stoic way that he always did. “This must be Y/N.” He nodded looking her up and down critically. “You picked well. She’s beautiful.”

“She’ll give us beautiful grandchildren.” His wife agreed looping her arm through his. “Don’t you think so, dear?”

“There’ll be plenty of time for talk of that later.” He hummed leading his wife towards the parlor for drinks as he and Jin began to talk business. Y/N trailed along her head bowed and arm looped through Jin’s.

She couldn’t help but wonder where Seokjung was. Surely he would be at a family dinner. He was her only saving grace in this nightmare of a dinner. She knew full well that he was the only one that would talk to her like a person and not just the pretty bimbo that their son was marrying. Jin certainly wasn’t going to make this evening any less awkward or her, but so far he was nowhere to be seen.

“Will Seokjung be joining us?” She dared to ask drawing the attention of the entire family to her.

Both Jin and his father stared at her with disapproval, but Jin’s mother pasted on a condescending smile. “Aren’t you sweet?” She hated the sickly sweet tone of the woman’s voice. “I’m sure he’s somewhere, maybe in the kitchen. He does so love to bother the staff in there.” She chuckled the sound grating against Y/N’s ears. “If you’re worried, you could go check on him, but I’m sure he’d be much happier eating in the kitchen than with the rest of the family.”

Y/N had to bite her tongue to keep her temper in check. It had always bothered her how the family treated Seokjung after the accident. He was paralyzed, not a pariah. “I think I will.” She pasted on a smile of her own ignoring the way look of slight annoyance and disapproval that Jin was giving her.

“Hurry back, darling.” He murmured placing a kiss on her cheek as he let her go.

She shot him a strained smile, but didn’t say anything else as she made her way towards the kitchen. It was where she normally ended up when she went to the Kim’s home. Much to her relief, Seokjung was inside when she entered the room which was oddly empty of staff.

“Hey, busy bee.” He greeted and she couldn’t help but smile at the fond nickname. It had started out mockingly when she had first met him, but it was an affectionate term now. “I see Jin finally got to you.”

“Not by choice.” She scoffed coming to take a seat across from him at the breakfast nook. “Can I ask you something?” Seokjung raised a brow taking a sip of his tea but making no move to stop her from asking. “Did Seokjin do this to you?”

The man froze something dark flashing in his eyes before it left again. He set down his cup and leveled her with a serious gaze. “And why do you ask that?” She raised a brow of her own waiting to see if he could piece things together on his own. Seokjung was by no means a stupid man despite how the rest of his family treated him. “I’m guessing the bruises on your wrists are from him.” He sighed leaning back in his chair. “How long?”

“Since this started.” She whispered staring down at the marks on her wrists. “There’s something very wrong with your brother.”

“I’m glad someone else is willing to recognize it.” He scoffed chuckling bitterly. “Yeah. This was his fault.”

“Your parents didn’t do anything?”

“Why would they? They always liked Jin better. Mother’s precious boy.” He shook his head as though clearing his thoughts before steering the attention back towards her. “How did he rope a sweet girl like you into this, bee?”

“Would you believe me if I said kidnapping?”

“He put his own brother in a wheel chair. I’d believe you.” He chuckled humorlessly. “Sweet kid like you doesn’t deserve this.”

“And you did?” She scoffed staring him down from across the table. “Your family is seriously fucked up.”

“I’m aware.” He rolled his eyes though a slight smile pulled at the corner of his lips. “How long do you have before Seokjin comes looking for you?”

“Not long.” She shudder hating the thought of going back to sit through dinner with Jin and his parents.

“Perfect.” The smile that overtook Seokjung’s face was vicious, his eyes too bright, too manic.

“What are you…”

She couldn’t finish her sentence. Jin had entered the room immediately zeroing in on her. “There you are, darling.” He walked over a frown on his face as he looked between her and his brother. “We were wondering what was taking you so long.”

He reached for her wrist only to freeze as a harsh thud sounded through the kitchen sending Jin crashing to the floor. Y/N watched in horror as Seokjung raised a pipe she hadn’t even been aware that he had up bringing it down on the disoriented Jin’s head with a sickening crack.

There was an odd sense of satisfaction that filled her as she watched a puddle of red almost the color of her dress form under Jin’s head.

“What…why?” Her gaze flitted back to Seokjung who was staring down at his brother with burning hatred.

“It’s time he got what was coming to him, rotten bastard.” He spat bringing the pipe down on his brother’s head again, Y/N flinching at the sight of it.

“Oh god…” She whispered her gaze flitting back to the growing puddle on the floor.

“Bee… bee!” Seokjung’s voice pulled her attention back to him before she could begin to spiral. “Do you wanna get out of here or not?” he asked his serious gaze keeping her pinned in place.

“What?”

“Do you want to get out of here?”

“More than anything.”

Seokjung nodded pulling a two bags out from the next to him at the breakfast nook and setting them on the table between them. “There’s a change of clothes in that bag. The tote has passport and a ticket on a flight leaving Korea later tonight as well as all the paperwork you’ll need to start a new life.”

Her head was reeling try to make sense of what was going on. “I don’t…”

“If you stay here my family is going to try to pin this on you. They can’t do that if you’re not here.”

“What are you… You planned this.” She breathed out in quite awe tinged with a little horror at the thought.

“You’ve given me the opportunity I’ve been looking for for ages. He’d never come visit me on his own, but he does so love to brag, and you’re the only one that would come looking for me in this hellhole.” He nudged the body with the pipe. “You’ve done me a favor, busy bee.”

“You killed him.”

“An eye for an eye.” He shrugged. “I’m just taking back what he took from me. Now do you want to get out of here or not?”

“More than anything.” She whispered pulling the bags towards her. “What about my dog?”

“Go to the states. Start fresh. I’ll send him along once you’re settled.” He ordered humming in approval as she began to move. “I have my driver waiting outside waiting to take you to the airport. You’re home free, bee. There’s even a phone in there. It’s got my number if you need anything.”

She stood up carefully avoiding the body and the blood as well as she could. “Why are you doing this for me?”

“You’re a sweet girl, bee, and you’ve always been kind to me. Don’t rat me out, and we can both be living the good life.”

She nodded letting the realization that he was giving her an out, a real out, settle in. “Okay…. Okay.”

“What will your parents say?”

He scoffed rolling himself back from the table. “You leave them to me. Now get out of here before they come looking for their precious son.”

She nodded resolutely making her way towards the door leading to the back entrance to the Kim house. “Thank you.”

“Good luck, busy bee.”

She made it to the door before turning back to look at Seokjung one last time before she left behind his crazy family for good. He nodded urging her to leave, a manic gleam in his eyes. He was enjoying this far too much, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. He’d set her free, and she’d take his secret to the grave.

She smiled, her first real smile in weeks. “Give them hell.”

“I plan to.”  

 epilogue....

[joyfulhopelox]

Coffee puns and wayside milkshakes

Pairing: Seokjin x reader (idol!jin, non-idol!reader, established relationship)

Warnings: some light swearing, really bad puns

Summary: Busy schedules have made it impossible to spend time with your boyfriend but he makes sure to assure you that he is still thinking of you. So even though he has promotions during summer he takes the time to plan an amazing road trip just for the two of you. Even if it is just to the drive thru in the next town over.

Genre: fluff gone into crack or crack gone into fluff

Word count: 3,020

Rating: g

A/N: This is part of the @bangtanwritingbingo event! Chosen square number 1 is 'road trip'. I made it pure fluff which i have to admit i thought i would be completely terrible at, but the more i write the better i get at it (hopefully). I had so much fun writing this! It was also once again meant to be a drabble, but....that is clearly something i have to work on. Enjoy some really bad puns from me!

Copyrights @joyfulhopelox for both the work and the banner

“Tell me again why are we up….” observing the still and dark atmosphere out the window you sighed, “at the ass crack of dawn?”

Normally, you would not question your boyfriend. Even when he would make stupid jokes or do stupid things, which acted contrary to his close-to-30 age. You trusted him completely, you may even say you trusted him with your life. And yet, this morning or night, you were seriously questioning his sanity. Have his schedules gotten to his head? Has the tiredness of constant practice and promotions made him lose it?

“Just you wait, love, i told you it’s a surprise” he shushed you, excitedly jumping out of the warm bed. Not wanting to get up just yet, it was 4am in the morning for God’s sake, you burrowed yourself deeper into the warm sheets whilst commandeering his pillow. “Love, come on get up. The surprise will not work if we are late” Seokjin whined.

“No, 5 more minutes” you grumbled into the pillow. It smelled of him and that comfort was slowly getting you back into the dream world. A dream world where a normal Jin would wake you up at a normal time, and you would get to spend a normal day together, gaming and cooking. But no, reality had to be shattered, instead this Seokjin was tugging at the duvet whilst patting your leg. “Okay, 5 more minutes whilst i go wash up but then you have to get up. We have to be in the car in 30 minutes” he warned, breaking you out of your dreamworld.

Basking in the comfort of the bed until you hear the bathroom door close, you decide that you were awake enough to face the chill of a summer morning. Throwing the blanket off of you, you gave the window a dirty look. As if it was the cause of your distress. It was summer, why was it so dark outside early in the morning? Because you woke up, correction because your lovely boyfriend woke you up at an ungodly hour. “I swear Kim Seokjin….” you mumbled to yourself. Making your way hurriedly to the kitchen, your form still wrapped like a burrito in the blanket you decided you needed caffeine, and fast.

“Love, now is not the time, we can’t be late” jumping at the whiny voice of your boyfriend you turned around, and when recalling this story to his friends, Jin would swear that he physically felt your murderous gaze stabbing him. “Kim Seokjin, if you do not allow me to have at least one cup of coffee before we set out onto this whatever it is” motioning wildly in the air “i swear i will make your life a living hell forever, even after i am dead i will haunt you until you are dead, and even in death i will haunt you” rambling on you failed to notice the amused expression on Jin’s face. God, you were adorable. However, as soon as you had finished your rant and you gazed back at him, for the sake of his life and his family jewels he straightened his pose and nodded at you in an attempt to be serious.

“Of course”

Satisfied you turned back to making your coffee, and some for the road. You knew that as active as Jin was at the moment, once on the road he would harass you for a sip. And if there was one thing you could not stand, it was sharing your coffee.

“Hey Y/N, what do you call a sad cup of coffee?” Oh no, here we go again. “Jiiiiiin” you whined, “it’s too early for this, what do you call it?” despite having complained about his bad dad jokes, you secretly enjoyed it when he made them. The jokes were not amazing most times, but seeing him so happy and hearing his laugh was what made them the best jokes you could have ever heard.

“A depresso” bursting out laughing fully at his own joke made you giggle at him. He was adorable, and he was all yours. Fondly gazing at him you shook your head whilst still giggling. His infectious humour was better at brightening your day than any coffee.

“Very funny baby, now let me finish making this coffee so we can leave. You’re the one in a hurry” you stuck your tongue out at him.

“Ah, yes indeed” he rushed to exit the kitchen. Not before turning around to wink at you and blow you a kiss whilst delivering his last one line puncher. “After all, we don’t want to be latte.” You could still hear his laugh even as he reached the other end of the corridor.

“Silly man”

-

Finally with two coffees in tow, you got yourself strapped into the car and waited for Jin to finish shoving into the back of the car what he presented as “top secret and you are not allowed to peek”. So you did your best to not let curiosity get to you and instead closed your eyes in an attempt to get a few more minutes of sleep. As you were drifting off slowly but surely, all you could hear in the background were the constant complaints of your boyfriend arguing with whatever he was trying to fit into the back of the car. And by the way the car was shaking it felt like he was forcing an elephant in there. You smiled gently to yourself, this is what bliss felt like to you. Not those extra minutes of sleep, not the thought of the planned date- which excited you nonetheless, but the knowledge that today was a day where you could spend some time with Jin and listen to him whine, complain, rant, express his love for you, cuddle you and all that in person.

“You alright there love?” you finally decided to check on his well being after another 10 minutes of grumbling.

“Yes, yes. Just trying….to get this thing to…..fit” heaving he let out a triumphal yell. “Done! Now let’s gogogogogo on this exciting road trip!” enthusiastically he opened the car door and jumped in almost hitting you in the face with his arm and whacking his own knee on the wheel of the car. “Oh my gosh, are you ok, did i hit you?” you stifled a giggle, he did not hit you and yet even though he clearly was in pain he made sure to check on you first.

“Jin, i’m fine babe, but clearly you aren’t. Please be more careful” you chided gently reaching over to rub the sore spot on his shin. With a gentle smile he grabbed your hand in his warm one. Despite the chilly air of the morning, he was warm and inviting, his hand on yours instantly heating up your cold ones. “I’m sorry love, I promise i will be” he reached out to cup your cheek with his free hand rubbing your skin and with care as if you were made out of porcelain he brought his soft plump lips to yours in a brief kiss that left you breathless.

“Hey, Y/N?” his lips a breath away from you that made you swear you still felt them on yours, was that wishful thinking? Maybe. “I love you” your eyes skimmed over his features lost in a world of your own and with a suddenly mischievous grin you pulled back from him fastening your seatbelt.

“I love you too, you mocha me very happy”

With an incredulous scoff, Jin fastened his own seatbelt and put the car into drive. “Careful love, you will become worse than me” he warned amusedly, the pride in his voice unmasked. He did love it when you would one up him on his jokes. Sometimes you would make a competition out of it, an unannounced one so that neither of you could have pre prepared comebacks and see who won. Most times you lost miserably, and the times you won you were absolutely certain that Jin went easy on you. He was the fountain of knowledge when it came to puns.

“But Jin, i am worse than you” giggling like idiots, you turned your gaze to the window prepared for the trip ahead. You had no idea where you were going but as long as you were with Seokjin, you would be absolutely fine.

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

“I swear to god Kim Seokjin, you plan a trip in the middle of the night to somewhere, lord knows where, and you don’t even think to consider checking the gas tank????”

As the car slowly sputtered and came to a stop at the end of the road you turned to look at your desperate boyfriend. “Oh nononnononono, this can’t be happening. I was meant to stop at a station as soon as we exited the city” trying to get the car to start again you bit your lip. Maybe it was the fact that you had placed your trust fully in him, or the fact that he was so sure of this trip, or the fact that he had bragged about this trip for a while now but this end you had not foreseen, and so it made it incredibly amusing for you. 30 minutes outside of your own city and the car had run out of fuel. If it weren’t for Jin’s distressed pleas for the car to start up and for you to forgive him for ruining this trip you would have burst out laughing a while back.

Deciding to end his misery you grabbed for his hand, now clammy from stress. “Babe, it’s ok. Let's just get out of the car and try to call someone to check the car out. We ran out of gas, it happens” rubbing your finger over the back of his hand in an attempt to call him you used your other hand to try to look for your phone.

Only to remember that in your hurry you had left without it. Groaning, you did not want to panic Jin more than he was so you did not mention your own phones. Knowing him, he’s forgotten his at home on purpose. On days when he had plans with you, he would make it a point to not spend time on his phone. Thanking your lucky stars you at least had your cards with you and some cash.

“I’m really really really sorry love” Jin gave you a pleading look. Shaking your head you sighed and opened your door. “Come on lover boy, let's get this situation fixed”

A couple of steps into the trek you finally hear the car being locked and the sound of pounding footsteps behind you. You walked in silence for 15 minutes, neither of you knowing what to say. You were decently tired and hungry but more worried about Jin’s state of mind. On the other hand your boyfriend was berating himself for ruining a perfectly planned day and probably making you upset for doing so. Finding the service phone by the side of the road you quickly phoned for someone to come and fix the situation and they informed you it may take a couple of hours to get to you. But it was better than nothing. You would probably miss entirely what Jin’s planned for you but you could always make the most of what you currently had. Now, on the way back to the car you finally sneaked a glance at your own boyfriend.

Catching his own worried gaze you looked away. You were in the middle of almost nowhere, stuck, without a car or food, it was still extremely early, and yet all you could think of was how handsome Jin looked. In the soft morning glow reflected on his skin and his messy hair stuffed under his cap, you realised how lucky you were. Misinterpreting your long stare he bit his lip, “Are you angry?” You did not want to respond to him, not yet at least. If you did you would either burst out in giggles or you would end up trying to comfort him, and you had no time to spare at the moment. Was it mean? Probably but you swore to yourself you would make it up to him. “Love” he kept insisting, “Y/N, are you angry?” Only when you heard the sadness creep into his usual tone of voice did you stop and look at him.

You opened your mouth to reply to him, but he would not allow you to speak yet. Afraid that you would start telling him how awful of a boyfriend he is, gone for long periods of time and when he is finally home he clearly cannot do anything proper, he starts stumbling over his words trying to explain himself to you. “Love, i’m so so so sorry. I did not mean for this to happen. I had the whole thing planned, i was going to take us to the seaside today so we can watch the sunrise and sunset on the beach like you have always wanted, and we were going to enjoy a picnic and a nice dip in the ocean and i was going to take you to the fair at night time so we can ride the ferris wheel and have a romantic kiss at the top and…”

As adorable as you found a rambling Jin, his red cheeks, his lips which were now extremely swollen from how much he bit them, you could not let him torture himself much longer. You were worried he may end up having a self induced anxiety attack. And you definitely were not angry as he seemed to think you would be.

“Love” you tried once, but in his distress he had stopped listening to you. “Jin” and again, finally having had enough you took three strides towards him and placed your hand over his mouth in a gentle attempt to get him to stop talking.

“It is ok. I am not angry. Not by a long shot. I don’t care about sunrises, I don't care about sunsets, I don't care about ferris wheel rides, I don't care about picnics. Seeing the hurt in his eyes you immediately added, “ I don't care about all these things if they don’t happen with you. Plans get ruined, that is why they are plans. We could have spent the whole day in our pjs and had a coffee pun competition whilst playing games and i would have not minded. We could have spent the whole day just literally doing nothing but staying in bed and I would have not minded. The thought of you even just planning to put all this together even when you are so busy is more than enough for me. Please stop apologising about this. I am not mad at all”

Jin reached out delicately and lowered your hand away from his mouth. “But it’s because I've been so busy that I have fucked up immensely. I wanted to do something nice for you to show you how much I care about you. Being away all the time is hard especially when all i want to do is have you there with me all the time but knowing that i can’t.” A strand of your hair had been blown into your face by the wind and he took his time to fix it for you, his hand dropping down onto the hollow of your neck.

“Babe, i would want nothing more than to be able to be with you all the time, but unfortunately we can’t. And you would get sick of me anyways” you laughed gently. Jin was about to protest but you continued. “ You show me everyday how much you care about me, no matter how busy you are you always take your time to talk even if briefly. You always send me cute pictures and pictures of food, which make me really jealous by the way” Jin laughed, his eyes crinkling.

“And when we do actually get to spend time together we have the best of times no matter what we do. Not because we are doing something out of the ordinary but because we are spending time together. If i’m with you i don’t care what we are doing, it’s the best time of my life” You slowly rose on your toes to press your lips to his. Seeing it as an opportunity Jin tightly wrapped your arms around your waist and lifted you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist with a squeal. A kiss that was meant to last a few seconds ended up with you propped against the side of the car wrapped around Jin’s sturdy frame.

“I love you” he whispered once he settled you back on his feet. “So so so much”

Prepared to answer with a confession of your own, you felt your stomach grumble. The moment now interrupted, both of you started cackling. “I love you too babe,” patting his chest, “but you know what I would love more? Some food.”

“We have a bit more to wait until we get this situation fixed” As if a lightbulb had been turned on Jin jerked away from you. “Wait here” running around to the back of the car he opened it and pulled out a cooler and two tumblrs. Ignoring your inquisitive looks he opened the cooler and got out some vanilla ice cream. Reaching out into the boot again he pulled out a pack of fresh strawberries. Laughing you finally understood.

“Milkshakes?” He held both items in his hands proudly.

When you had told him you would give anything in exchange for spending time with him you meant it. Whether the road trip would have been a success in the end, or you just called it a day after you got your car sorted. But just sitting there on the wayside by the car enjoying your makeshift milkshakes and each other’s company was complete perfection to you and you would not have it any other way.

[doorsclosingslowly]

Hell is just a beat away (3/9)

Despite early promise, young Maul has turned out to be a disappointment, willfully delaying his training with secret attempts to make himself friends from scrap metal. He must be properly motivated, and so Darth Sidious sends him to a slave market on an impossible mission. It backfires. Star Wars: Darth Maul (2017) comic AU | 5.2k | warning for slavery, sexual assault of a teenager (non-graphic)

Ten to doomsday, moving fast

Eldra does not sleep. She refuses. If she has to bite her fingers bloody when her eyelids threaten to drop, then so be it. Master Fyaar would have chastened her for it—she always insists that Eldra be at her best regardless of circumstance, and staying awake for what must be more than one or two entire standard days now will help with neither her innate distractibility nor her willful emotions. Her secret inadequacy, unknown to all but Fyaar, who chose Eldra when she was ten and had yet to develop the mind that is, and she has rarely admitted to those fears even in the privacy of her own brain, the mind that is perhaps fundamentally unsuited to the noble path of the Jedi. Sure, she does well enough in her classes, though she drives her teachers to frustration with her incessant fiddling with any trinket at all within her reach and her doodling and her daydreams. Sure, she mostly behaves acceptably among people, though she does not pick up on the right cues to be a diplomat and she vacillates too often between excited talking and secret loneliness, when she, once again, finds her peers more interested in each other than in whatever she has wanted to share. Her one friend in the Order is Bayro who’s two years older, though now she’s not even sure if Bayro would see her as more than a friendly, clingy acquaintance, and—

Will Bayro even miss her? They’ve made plans to watch a holovid after Eldra’s back from Teth and Bayro aces the Advanced Test on Coruscant Sublevels 6665 through 7900. Vague plans, though, and since Eldra didn’t know how long she’d have to guard Mayor Woobudg… Bayro will probably notice in a few months that Eldra hasn’t returned to the Temple, and then watch the holovid with one of her many other friends. She’ll—

Watch your feelings, Eldra, she remembers. It hurts. The memory of Master Fyaar hurts worse than even the imaginary indifference of Bayro does, but it’s necessary. As ever, Master Fyaar’s warning is right, even if it’s only the ghost of Fyaar living on inside Eldra’s grief. Eldra almost lost her calm over a scenario of her own imagination, yet another reminder of her unsuitable mercurial temperament. Yet another reminder of why she needs Fyaar, needs her constant watch, if she wants to remain on the path of the Jedi.

And Master Zalandas Fyaar is dead.

Fyaar’s dead.

Eldra watched her murder, and the murder of everyone she was supposed to protect on this mission. Eldra watched her murder and did not reach for the dark side of the force to avenge her. Eldra watched and held still.

Eldra allowed herself to be abducted.

She does not sleep in her tiny cell, just as she didn’t sleep on the freight ship that carried her to an unknown planet far away from bloodied Teth. She didn’t sleep then as stubbornly as she does now, but even before her wide-open burning eyes the pictures will not stop. The blood. The touch. The grin of her vile captor when he said that she would fetch a tidy sum, despite being a blue twi’lek (“A dime a dozen, they are, and this one’s not even a trained dancer! She hasn’t even… look!” Her captor had pulled her upper lip away then, and she had snapped for his fingers. “She’s still got those awful sharp teeth! Who the hell lets a twi’lek girl walk around with sharp teeth? She could tear a guy’s throat out, with these!”) she would still be worth a quick sale to her captors but only because she is (was) a Jedi padawan, and apparently there are quite a few pieces of shit out there who’d like to hurt a Jedi. Or—she keeps her eyes open, open, open till tears threaten to drop, and yet the thought comes. Or fuck one. Same difference.

A toy that’s padawan-shaped. That’s why they let her keep her own robes. But at least they did.

Watch your feelings, but still, Eldra shakes to her very core. She’s never thought of herself as being anything but a person, slightly inadequate perhaps in all ways that matter to her but a person; a luminous being, a small conduit for the very force to act through in the material galaxy; but now she’s been caught and taught that what she is is actually just a twi’lek girl. Cheap. Interchangeable. Nothing but her species and her gender, nothing but her flesh: a pretty dancer, never mind she hates dancing and if she ever makes it out, if the Jedi find and rescue her, please, please, she will never ever dance not even a single one of those silly novelty dances ever again even if Bayro does it first. She’ll go to whatever lengths needed to never be appraised, judged, looked upon, perceived as anything but a luminous dutiful Jedi ever again.

To these people, she’s not a person. Not a Jedi, unless the fetish counts, not really, not to the slavers and—watch your feelings, but still, the seething disgust returns and she wants nothing more than her lightsaber through her captor’s hearts or their hands torn off by her teeth—perhaps, maybe, please no, not truly anymore either to herself.

⁂

Maul wakes up to insistent beeping. He’s never heard the noise before, except—somewhere behind the headache and the nausea he remembers—except roughly five minutes ago, and five minutes before that, and five minutes before… He’s read about those periodical noises. Snooze button on an alarm clock, they’re called. He’s never used them before. He’s never used—Master teaches that a slothful tool is a tool broken, useless, and he’s never before dared to oversleep, even with his throat swollen and filled with mucus he didn’t, but now—it is a mercy he does not deserve, that Master was not here to witness Maul fail so deeply on this mission and just because something beats a booming drum inside his head and stuffed his stomach full of eels twisting up languidly through his esophagus.

Not real eels, though. He checks his vomit after throwing up. No eels. No animals hatched inside him; it’s just an inconvenient illness. And he feels better already, after spewing out the clear oily water and half-digested bread and no eels whatsoever. He does feel much better. Definitely. Illness during his mission would be inconvenient.

He has ample time to travel to the palace of Xev Xrexus before the padawan is sold there. Time he is grateful for, because Master’s ship will not let him in, so he has no access to his stilts or anything else he prepared apart from his cloak and the vocoder mask he carried in his satchel to the convenience store like a talisman of ingenuity and pretense. He doesn’t have his finest Sith robes that he left safe inside, only to be worn in the moment of Darth Maul’s triumph, and most of his weapons, too, apart from one anonymous knife strapped to his shin, are still tidied away in the ship Master gave him that will now pulverize anyone who dares approach.

Luckily, Maul is both incredibly clever—he figured out the location of the padawan! Despite Master giving him a wrong date and location! Solely by his own superior Sith cunning!—and he is within another sucker’s ship now—he sliced the lock in minutes! Because he is Darth Maul!—and the ship is full of new tools for improvisation.

Such as the large pair of black sunglasses that helps guard him at least slightly against the sun’s sickening poking and poking and poking of his cerebral cortex. Such as the trio of black shirts that, belted with a strange deltoid strip of fabric, bulk up his frame considerably and also make him feel toasty warm. Nar Shaddaa is cold, but Maul isn’t. Yet another victory to add to his tally.

With the gloves and the vocoder mask and the Sith cloak added on top, every square centimeter of Maul’s flesh is covered, and as he struts in front of the berth mirror he decides: he looks both incredibly dignified and scary, not to himself obviously but to those forcenull denizens of the underworld who will yet learn to tremble before the almighty Sith. He looks almost as impressive as Master. He doesn’t have the pale chin lurking under his cowl, obviously the most Sithly of looks, but in a pinch the black leather covering his cheeks and the opaque gridded speaker over his mouth should do almost as well.

Before he leaves, he ransacks the ship. No point in abandoning tools he might yet use. Everything he can carry, he stuffs inside his satchel.

Then, he begins the long pedestrian march to the palace of Xrexus. As usual, while he walks, he seethes in the Sithly anger of how much faster he could go if only he had a decent speeder bike. Soon, he reminds himself. Soon. After the oncoming awesome success of this mission, Master will be impressed enough to bestow the title of Darth and gift him a CK-6 swoop bike tuned up to the limits of terrestrial speed. Soon. Besides, with how slow the nausea is to settle, it’s perhaps a tiny bit useful that he is forced to take this brisk long walk in the Nar Shaddaa morning air. Although his coat and shirts fluttering with the speed of his bike would look very cool… He loses himself in his daydreams, and before long, he spies a duo of falleen in white dress shirts and black pants before the palace that belongs to Xev Xrexor.

The most adventurous part of his mission has just begun.

“Greetings,” Maul growls haughtily with the handsome baritone of his vocoder. “I have chosen to purchase a Jedi slave today. I trust this is the location for these sorts of errands?”

“Are you on the guest list?” the left falleen asks.

Guest list? Yet another complication. But Maul must not fail. “I am Ma Goweelr,” he says, borrowing the name of the man whose ship he ransacked. He found an identification card with his name on it and wisely brought it with him. He pulls it out now.

“You don’t look like Goweelr, friend,” she says.

“Unfortunately, I had… an accident.” Blast. They cannot see his face, so tt’s the height issue again. If Maul had his stilts, he could have made his way through easily, but because Master saw fit to lock the ship—no, it’s not Master’s fault. Because Maul was stupid enough to leave his tools aboard the ship, he now falters. What to do. What to do. What to—

“He’s slow,” the other bouncer whispers to his partner, but loudly enough that Maul heard it without issue. He stares intently at Maul, almost if he was expecting a specific reaction.

The left falleen winks. “All right. A little grease in the palm goes a long way, friend.”

Grease? Necessary for the function of machines. Cooking, apparently, also. Often a type of fat, either animal or plant-based, though hydrocarbons mined on certain planets or synthesized in labs such as Corellia’s X-Tech Max nowadays are a far more affordable and controllable—

“He’s dumb, Brighta. We don’t care whether you’re on the guest list. We want a bribe.”

A… Maul’s certain he read about bribes somewhere, but—

“Cash. Money. Credits.”

Credits! Maul found some on the ship. Since they were light enough, he put them in his satchel. The force is with him! He pulls out the chits he found, rummaging in a perhaps less than dignified way—the falleen exchange a look over his head that he’s too busy to try to read, but it doesn’t seem hostile—and when he hands over five thousand credits their vague non-hostility turns to genuine excitement.

“House Xrexus is honored to host you for this auction, sir,” the male falleen says when he opens the door.

“As am I,” Maul replies with a bow. When he walks past, the female bouncer taps him on the shoulder and then bends down to whisper in his ear.

“The Jedi’s auction’s in two hours, but the preview starts in one and she’ll probably get snapped up then, so. Might wanna hurry.”

“Thank… you?” Maul rumbles and winces at the vocoder turning his slight surprise into a question, but the falleen does not laugh this time.

“Appreciative customers are rare. Come back anytime,” and she winks and pushes him with her—warm, strong, startling—hand the rest of the way through the door and then slams it shut.

Presale. Other customers. Complicating factors Maul would not even have known about if it wasn’t for the bouncer—and for the force, therefore, willing him to succeed—because he didn’t… He did not actually expect any competition. After all, there are no other Sith but the Master and his apprentice. Who, then, would have need of a Jedi padawan? Who has need of Xrexus’ auction at all when they are not sent by their Master? Their… Master. Master might compete with Maul at this sale, both as a test of Maul’s readiness and as a failsafe, should Maul not manage to succeed in his mission. Master is incredibly smart after all, and foresees any number of possible twists and turns of a scenario, as unlikely as they might be. Even such unlikely eventualities as Darth Maul not completing in his mission. Master considers everything. It’s why he’s the Master.

Luckily, Maul was forewarned, and so when he passes a fire exit plan of the palace that’s nailed to a wall in the empty entrance hall he looks for any possible… There. A server room. A small bureau. Two places where Maul might gain access to the databases of Xrexus and convince the filing system that he has already bought the Jedi, before the first competitor has even placed their bid. It’s the only surefire way of preempting a person as thorough and prompt as Master is, and besides… Maul understands machines. He can charm and bend them to his will. His confusion at the bouncers’ hints and the tip the falleen gave him when he would never have expected anything of the sort based on the way the previous part of the encounter had passed—never mind the blasted lack of his carefully constructed stilts—were a sore reminder that in the field of people Maul does not yet excel to the standard of a Sith. Something he must remedy, but perhaps not on a mission as important as this. (Perhaps not among people who are oily and stare too hard.)

Laughter peals in a room straight ahead, but the server room is one floor down a side staircase. It’s sectioned off by a dangly gold chain that Maul needs to barely duck to pass under, and no-one passes through either the main corridor he left or the dusty unlit staircase while Maul hops down, thinking I am Sith alternating with I am shadow on every step.

The hallway leading to the server room is just as deserted. The door is locked, but Maul has sliced the access pads of twelve ships now and has refined his technique to under three minutes of elegant fiddling. This lock takes two seconds.

A datapad is already hanging inside right next to the door, from the cable with which it’s plugged into a socket there. Maul picks it up. Its screen is thrice-cracked and fixed up with clear tape. The touchscreen is incredibly sluggish to react, but as much as he might love the challenge of repairing it he only has less than an hour to spare. If he must, he will, but—gloves. He removes the right one, and the datapad responds.

A login screen.

Thus-far, the security has been abysmal. Worse than what he improvised for the secret hiding space of the first functional droid he built, and so he enters root, root. It works.

Pathetic, Maul thinks. Disappointing. Embarrassing. Horrendous. Useless. Awful. You deserve this. You deserve worse. It almost takes off some of the giddiness at how well Maul has been performing on his mission, thus far. His opponents are veritable morons. It is no great feat, to succeed against people as unprepared for basic survival as these, and it does not take a Sith’s cunning—it’s not worthy of the great Darth Maul who learns under Darth Sidious the greatest creature in the galaxy—to fight them.

In the central database he changes the status of the Jedi padawan to Sold and the buyer to Ma Goweelrand types in 666666666 for the winning bid. It’s a large number, and Jedi means valuable. It should pass muster. Probably. Money: yet another area where Maul requires further instruction. There was another card Maul stole with information on Goweelr’s account with the InterGalactic Banking Clan, and he enters it in the respective field. As to the user listed as making these changes, he picks the fifth-most appearing in the database. If he wanted to arouse no suspicion at all, he would need to research Xrexus’ organization in total, but—he’d really rather not. Even glancing at some of the entries of the database reawakened the eels in his stomach.

He pettily changes the admin password and wipes the screen carefully before he logs out.

Mission almost complete.

Half an hour left until the beginning of the presale, a clock tells him, and that’s most likely when they will check the padawan’s entry and approach Goweelr as her legitimate buyer. Everything is going according to plan, as long as he is not caught down here.

Since Maul is Sith and shadow and incredibly silent and deadly, he isn’t.

He sneaks back up and then strides, with as much power and dignity as he can muster when he wants to skip giddily to celebrate a job well done, into the room where the laughter comes from. It’s—

It’s bright. Loud. Full. But more than any other adjective, it’s huge, a room that is a thousand times bigger than anything Maul has ever set foot in, with a domed ceiling rising so far above that he can’t make out any details there. Can’t see whether there are any cameras, or snipers—can’t see anything but the luster and wealth on display. Plants growing on floating bowls of silver, plants he has never seen anywhere but in holos (Most plants are plants he’s only ever seen in holos. Almost all of them. Master rarely makes him train off-planet, and there is nothing but fire on Mustafar.), plants and waterfalls. Delicate staircases that appear to hover in the air just like the tree-bowls are. It looks like something out of a dream, if Maul’s dreams were able to imagine impossible worlds and not just impossible people who’ll save him.

Below it all, there are throngs of people in various kinds of festive garb, chatting and sipping on dainty glasses. People of most species he’s ever read about. Even…

Even a zabrak. There’s a zabrak over in a corner, not an Iridonian zabrak like the ones Maul finds often in his research but a zabrak who looks startingly close to him, hairless and bright and black-marked, only he’s much taller than Maul—he’s tall! Maul always worried that his species was doomed to remain as small as he is right now but he’s tall! He won’t need stilts forever!—and he’s yellow.

Idly—or trying to appear idle but actually shivering with curiosity—he saunters closer. The zabrak, it’s quickly obvious, is not here as a buyer. He’s chained up, both manacles connected to the neck cuff, though the bonds look so flimsy that Maul could have snapped them. He’s almost naked except for a pair of trousers that barely reaches his thighs and, moreover, is made of a fabric far too flimsy and tight to fight in. His skin is weirdly shiny as well, as if he was sweating but that is unlikely, given Maul’s not too hot under his three shirts and a cloak (in fact, it gets colder the closer Maul comes to the strange zabrak), and the yellow zabrak’s not exercising either but standing completely still, feet slightly apart and arms raised in a poor imitation of a fighting pose. The claws on his hand and feet would be called neatly trimmed if Maul didn’t know intimately that this length means they’re cut so close to the bed that it irritates several internal nerves. The horns are filed too close as well, and they look blunt.

A fighting slave.

No. A pretend fighting slave.

Everything about him might look fearsome to one who does not know what to watch for, but he does not stand or dress or groom himself like a fighter.

It’s—it’s difficult for Maul to sort out his reaction. This is a zabrak, the first person like him he’s ever seen, but he’s also a mockery of the warrior he trains so hard to become. Are all other zabraks like this? Does Maul look like this to other people? Flimsy and fake? It is almost enough to be ashamed of the association, and Maul is glad that with his clothes no-one else here can guess at their shared species.

“Welcome,” the unchained human next to the zabrak shouts, and Maul cranes his neck but apparently it’s addressed to him. “What are you looking for? A nightly companion? A gladiator? A—”

“This is not a gladiator,” Maul growls.

“Ah, well, he’s versatile,” the slaver says. “Do you see his muscles?” He squeezes the other zabrak’s biceps. The zabrak does not react. “He is excellent at bearing pain as well,” and alright, Maul will give him that. From this close, he can see the faint network of scars.

“He’s truly a wild beast when you want him that way,” and if to contradict him—the first time Maul feels anything approaching pride at their kinship—the zabrak refuses to bare his teeth, even when the human slaps him in the face twice and then prods him with something bearing electric sparks. Still, the zabrak will not relent. He’s breathing and moving but somewhere deep in his eyes he looks nothing short of dead.

“I have business elsewhere,” Maul stutters out and the vocoder smooths it into a low growl. The queasy pit in his stomach must be the return of the eels, or else the force aims to reveal to him that he might be being observed by fleets of holodroids, a technological wonder he should research immediately upon completion of his mission, when he will never think of the scar-covered zabrak and his empty eyes ever again. He won’t even remember his face or his color. No, Maul will attempt to engineer holodroids and present them to his Master, who will be proud.

That’s what he thinks about, while he wanders the huge room at random. Holodroids. He doesn’t think about zabraks. In fact, he’s forgotten every fact he ever heard about that species. No zabraks exist but Maul. That’s the way it goes.

He doesn’t think of zabraks at all for several more minutes, and then a tannoy system message calls out for Ma Goweelr and his time of floating is over.

⁂

Thus far, the boy’s little adventure has been a disappointment. There were moments of fear and shame and misery, but mostly, what Sidious receives from him is bright giddy elation at being entrusted with this mission. It should have figured that Maul is not intelligent enough to see through his Master’s true plans, and yet—it was folly on his part, Sidous is prepared to admit that, but he expected more of his little zabrak.

Well. More agony, mostly.

He’ll have to be a little more patient. Someday soon, Maul’s luck will have to run out.

⁂

“This is her, Sir. Opening the cell now,” a woman says in front of the suddenly-bright cell, and Eldra’s hard-won, tattered, wide-eyed serenity dissipates.

It’s Dilar. Dilar, self-loathing traitor of a twi’lek slave. Eldra’s only known her for a day and enjoyed exactly zero seconds of it. The old woman’s hatred and revulsion at what she is forced to do, preparing slaves to be sold on, crowds out the very air. For the slavers, her utter loathing might be imperceptible—Dilar is a grudging, but polite tool—but it’s everywhere in the force, and Eldra cannot breathe. It’s hard enough keeping herself calm—keeping herself Jedi—when she knows that any time now a lecher with a Jedi fetish will come to her cell.

A lecher, or her rescuer.

Watch your feelings: do not give in to despair, Eldra, as Fyaar would say if she could. Maybe a Jedi will come.

It’s a war inside her, equal parts of hope and terror, and without her Master’s guidance how will Eldra find the strength to make herself calm again? Calm, serene, like the Jedi she was supposed to be.

A Jedi is better than this.

There is no emotion. There is peace.

There is no hatred, especially. Eldra should not hate Dilar. She shouldn’t hate every single slaver in the entire world, with even deeper depths of seething odium reserved for anyone selling or buying her. She shouldn’t. She does.

She isn’t wearing a force-suppressant collar, but that doesn’t matter. There are things far more binding than chains, than collars, in this world: Eldra promised her Master that she would be strong. She promised. She promised, and she hates these slavers. If she reached for the force now, she wouldn’t be able to call herself Jedi anymore. She would fail her Master and lose herself.

She would use her hatred to kill her tormentors. She would tear their throats out.

She would Fall.

Fear, raging and cold, has been her only companion for uncounted waking days now, that and bitter loathing. Master Fyaar died in front of her. Eldra’s been stripped of everything she thought she was and turned into a commodity, and now the only bright spot in her life is the fact that Martrey Woobudg the slaver, slaver, slaver who brought them to Teth is also fucking dead. Hopefully, it hurt.

The sudden hope is new, fragile and staggering and still too volatile to make reaching for the force safe. Hope: maybe the new arrival isn’t one of them. Eldra’s Master was in constant contact with the Temple, after all, and they must know about the ambush by now. They must have sent someone to save Eldra. (She tries very very hard not to remember that they don’t, sometimes, search for missing padawans, because of deferring to a higher purpose and the will of the force and being instruments of the Galactic Senate and not privileging attachments, including to their padawans, over the greater good et cetera et cetera, which is a code of conduct that Eldra, too, had always believed in. Until she got thrown in this cell, at least.)

Please, let it be a Jedi. Even if she gets thrown out for her hatred. Please, let it be a Jedi.

“Get up, girl,” Dilar says.

Eldra struggles onto her feet. She almost loses her balance, and that would kriffing hurt, because she’s got little chance of breaking her fall. Her hands are cuffed in front of her, encased in thin manacles she could easily break out of if it wasn’t pointless. If she wasn’t watched at all times. If she could use the force without Falling. If there was any way off this planet she doesn’t even know the name of. She could break them, but she can’t. They’re tight, and her shoulders ache from the forced immobility. (Almost, she’d told the slavers that restraining someone like this for days on end was a sure way of causing muscle damage, that they were lowering her value—were hurting her, by treating her like this, but she’d reconsidered. It would probably count as ‘helping slavers’. She hopes instead that they lose all their captives to their own bad practices. Eldra will not help them, if it kills her.)

If her visitor is a slaver, they’ll probably enjoy the sight of her helplessness. If they’re a Jedi, there may be compassion, pity, judgment—they’ll feel how scared she is, and how close to breaking—and that’ll be even more embarrassing to deal with afterwards, but at least there will be an afterwards for her.

For a second, the force floods with pain. Anger. Then, the presence hides itself again. Doesn’t matter. She’s felt it.

A force user.

A… Jedi, then?

Would a Jedi… Eldra herself would be angry, if she saw anyone else treated the way she is now, no matter how hard she tries for serenity. Eldra isn’t a good Jedi though. She’s too scared for that.

She looks up. If the visitor is a Jedi, Eldra doesn’t recognize them. But that means nothing: they’re covered head-to-toe in layers of black fabric. They’re wearing some sort of mask that covers their lower face, too, and oversized mirrored-glass sunglasses, and gloves, and a cowled cloak and what looks like at least two shirts, one over the other. They look like a black ball with legs sticking out. They look like someone decided to dress up as the platonic concept of shady. They look ridiculous.

They’re very short as well. They’re about twice the height of Grandmaster Yoda, and shorter than pretty much everybody else that Eldra knows. Well… they could be Master Piell. Would Master Piell dress up like this, though? Would he come to rescue her? Would he… well, he wouldn’t feel like the visitor in the force. Even Piell is a Master of the High Council. He wouldn’t fall prey to emotions as easily as Eldra did. He would not fail the light.

The only bit of skin that Eldra can make out is the bridge of the nose, between the jaw-mask and those sunglasses. Red.

Whoever it is isn’t human.

It might give hope, but—whoever it is has already paid and they own Eldra now, they tell the slavers, in a deep and slightly mechanic voice.

Paid.

Own.

Not a rescue, then. The Jedi wouldn’t reward a slaver for abducting a padawan.

Eldra will not cry. Not because if does not befit a Jedi, because the Jedi didn’t come for her. Eldra remained faithful—barely—she didn’t give in to her hatred and fear, didn’t Fall… and no-one came to rescue her. She will never see the temple again. She’ll never watch those holovids with Bayro, and Bayro—will she even notice? Will she mourn Eldra? Or will she be relieved that the clingy kid is gone?

She won’t cry. She will not give Dilar or this new buyer the satisfaction.

The shielding of Eldra’s cell opens. Dilar attaches a chain to Eldra’s manacles and her buyer ties the other end to their belt. They barely look at her, at least—in the nightmares she refused to allow herself to grow into images they always looked at her, excited and hungry, but this buyer seems curt and weirdly business-like.

Without another word, they start walking.

Eldra has no choice but to follow. The Jedi didn’t come. She is alone. Whatever awaits her outside, though, it can hardly be worse than this cell.

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

2021 oscars fashion i fucking hate

sorry, mobile users. this isn’t counting dresses i think are Basically Fine but boring, or most dudes, since everyone’s tux looks basically the same.

carey mulligan in oscar gold. i like the color, i like the drama of a big fuckoff skirt. i do not like how stiff it looks- see how it’s draping really weirdly and in giant stiff peaks? i want to see what the underpinnings of this look like, bc what i think this dress needs is a slightly less metallic fabric (to make it less stiff) and multiple petticoats to get it really fluffy and not half-collapsed. the bodice situation is also really hard to pull off- it is not flattering to ms mulligan’s chest, and makes her collarbone/cleavage ratio look long and weird. it looks like her boobs are sitting much lower than they actually are, which is usually not a desired outcome. this dress could be immediately better by not having an exposed midriff- again, the ratio of the waistband to the bodice isn’t good, and the overall ratio of her chest/bodice/midriff/waistband makes her chest look long and her torso look short, which is a weird combo. good color tho

amanda seyfreid- now this is how you do a fucking dress with volume and support the floof!!! she’s got that classic hourglass shape, lovely until again you get to The Fucking Bodice. you either need to commit to shoulders or not. how is this dress being held up. where is the support. the v is just a smidge too deep, making the shape of her breasts look fake, and the fucking ruffles are murdering me. they make her look like her head is just sort of floating away and back. they bonk into her upper arm in a weird way, while i think the color of this dress does not support a harsh cutoff against her skin if you just ripped the ruffles off, put some mesh in there!!! gradate it down from pink to red over her shoulders!!! put some sequins in there idk!!! i hate this as it is!!! how is the bottom of this dress so nice but the top so fucking awful. it’s so jarring.

andra day’s dress has the opposite problem, where the bodice is nice but the skirt fucking sucks. she can wear a regular fucking strapless bra under there, which is great, she has a lot of support from two straps, the smaller one crossing over her chest is a fun detail (it would look weird if it was the same sixe as the other, since it wouldn’t lie as nicely against her neck) and the waist cutout is fantastic. that’s a good fucking ratio there. the crossed strap mirrors the line from the bustline to her hip, it shows off her body in a fun way while still providing a lot of support, and it doesn’t feel like she’s about to fall out of this dress. the fucking skirt though needs to not have a train, because this looks awful. it’s hard to make a dress with a high side slit and also a train bc it bunches up all fucking weird like that. you’re supposed to slink sexily with a high side slit, not stop every two minutes to flick your train back behind you. the skirt also needs to be fuller, bc it looks better to have a peek of your long long leg going for fucking miles instead of just Having Your Leg Out There. halfway there. i like this one more than muligan’s tho bc the basic proportions are right.

hale berry- good bodice that clashes with the rest of the dress. turning the heavily structured and pleated bodice into something that crossed over and tied at one hip would be more flattering than this, which just spits out a giant sad bow at ms berry’s natural waist. this is not flattering for anyone’s body shape. but at least it’s trying something? there were a lot of boring dresses this year, and a lot of dresses that tried to execute on a classic silhouette and failed (see above two)

olivia coleman looks unhappy to be here. the shoes are great. the dress looks like a sack. the raglan line of the sleeves (where they go slanty to the armpit instead of straight across the top of the shoulder) draw attention in a bad way to her bust. the collar AND the belt make her look very constricted, and the sad little pouf of the full sleeves at her cuffs honestly just fucking sucks. that’s just bad design. that looks silly and is going to get in your way all night. it also makes the length of her arms look weird in proportion to the cutoff piece of her torso between the collar and the belt. the skirt is fine. nothing to write home about. 

glenn close is wearing a very uncompromising silhouette that makes her look very boxy and somehow like she has a bit of a paunch? who did this to glenn close. why. also why the pants??? or if pants, not open heels like that bc it cuts off the line of her legs in a bad place and makes her look really stumpy??? the color and the all-over beading make it look dated, when she’s still a working actress nowhere close to retirement. she looks like a mother of the bride- this doesn’t look high-end or custom enough to wear to the fucking oscars. this is just fucking weird. i am so sorry for what they did to you ms close

in a similar vein, why would you fucking do this to rita moreno. the heavy necklace is doing interesting things texturewise and balancewise, but draws undue attention to the stupid little bodice flap. that just looks bad. this is weirdly tailored, which they have tried to cover up with her very good coat worn off-the-shoulders, bc it’s pulling a weird way diagonally and under her bust as she moves. the fucking ruffles at the hem cut her off in a bad place like not quite mid-shin? and they’re straight across?? she’s already short!! she doesn’t need to look shorter!!!

these are apparently mr & mrs oscar. not even a tux. you wear a fucking tie to the oscars. you ignore a waistcoat.

the dress, again with the fucking collar/belt combo!!! bad!!! if you don’t have cleavage that’s fine go wear a fun dress from the twenties when cleavage was out of fashion!!! don’t wear something that balloons out into a false paunch right above your natural waist you look terrible!! fire whoever dressed you!!! ad the color is almost exactly the color of her skin, the dress is so plain and there’s no texture or interest and all of this just fucking sucks

if you’re going to be filthy rich you can afford to look good!!! what is HAPPENING this year!!!

[ofsleights]

            ✱ ╱ song joong ki + cis man + he / him / his ━ if you happen to find yourself stuck in tartarus, make sure you don't run into SHIN YO-HAN there. the THIRTY FIVE year old has made quite the reputation for themselves under their alias as HECATERUS, a CAPOREGIME OF DRUG DEALERS AND THIEVES for TITANS. while their enemies often describe them as doctrinaire and quarrelsome, their syndicate would say that they're highbrow and urbane. they DO NOT think that zane was murdered, but they'll be keeping that to themselves for now. ( the gentle click of italian leather shoes announcing his presence, dim lamp light illuminating his office at the early morning hours, dark hues dancing with curiosity and chaos, the windows of luxury vehicles kissed by heavy clouds of steam ).

            hi  again,  everyone  !  this  took  me ... forever  to  get  together,  and  is  probably  filled  with  useless details,  but  i’m  so  excited  to  introduce  yohan  to  everyone.  once  more,  i’m  kiva,  twenty4,  prefer  either  she / her  or  they / them  pronouns,  and  i  reside  in  the  eastern  tz  !  also  pls  don’t  roast  my  pinned  JNVCNVC  i  have  a  prettier  one  in  my  drafts,  but  i’m  saving  it  for  when  i  bring  my  second  chara  hehe.  that  being  said,  ‘  yohan,  you  bastard  !  ’  was  filmed  in  front  of  a  live  studio  audience.  😌

*   🃏   𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚃𝙸𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙲𝚂.

            name  :  dr.  shin yo-han.  nicknames:  went  by  sebastian  during  his  school  years,  rarely  called  han.  age  +  date  of  birth  :  35  +  june  10th,  1986.  moral  alignment  :  lawful  evil.  gender  +  pronouns  :  cis  man  +  he / him / hims.  place  of  birth  :  carnegie  jill,  new  york.  place  of  residence  :  tartarus,  california.  orientation  :  bisexual  biromantic.  occupation  :  caporegime  professor  of  game  theory.  nationality  :  korean - american.  ethnicity  :  korean.  languages  spoken  :  korean,  english,  japanese,  and  conversational  spanish.

*   🃏   𝙱𝙸𝙾𝙶𝚁𝙰𝙿𝙷𝚈.

            —   when  one  hears  the  shin  family  name,  they  are  aware  of  who  they’re  about  encounter.  made  up  of  shin  cho - hee  and  shin  jin - hwan,  the  two  were  set  up  for  life  from  the  moments  they  were  born,  but  that  doesn’t  mean  that  they  didn’t  know  how  to  work  to  get  more  of  what  they  already  had.  with  the  best  colleges  on  their  resumés  and  the  amount  of  money  in  their  bank  accounts,  it  was  only  a  matter  of  time  for  them  to  meet  (  even  if  it  was  their  parents  who  set  up  the  meeting  ).

            —   they  turn  out  to  be  a  match  made  in  heaven  as  the  couple  are  both  ruthless  and  cunning,  with  desires  to  expand  their  families  fortunes.  cho - hee  and  jin - hwan  marry  in  a  lavish  ceremony,  and  not  even  five  years  later,  they’re  moving  to  new  york  city  to  take  their  companies  from  strictly  europe  and  asia  based  to  the  west.  the  company  grows  exponentially  within  a  few  short  years,  and  during  that  time,  they  have  their  only  child  yo-han.  

            —  yohan  is  a  child  that  fell  in  line  when  he  was  supposed  to  and  was  clearly  grateful  of  the  life  he  was  able  to  live.  attending  the  trinity  school  in  new  york  city,  yohan  was  afforded  the  best  education  that  money  could  buy,  so  it  was  no  surprise  that  he  graduated  with  high  marks.  the  only  downside  that  he  faced  was  the  lack  of  bonding  time  that  he  had  with  his  parents  (  as  they  were  often  too  busy  for  him  ),  but  when  soccer  games  continuously  got  missed,  dinners  were  often  had  alone,  or  field  trip  permission  slip  signatures  were  forged,  yohan  easily  grasped  that  he  was  essentially  on  his  own.

            —   college  acceptances  roll  out,  and  yohan  goes  off  to  study  economics  at  columbia  university.  an  honors  student,  yohan  does  well  as  he’s  expected  to,  and  although  they’ve  missed  most  of  his  life,  his  parents  are  able  to  brag  about  having  their  child  graduate  from  one  of  the  ivies.  academically,  yohan  appeases  his  parents,  going  on  to  study  economics  at  stanford  for  his  masters  degree  and  princeton  for  his  phd.  during  those  years,  yohan  develops  an  interest  in  game  theory.  while  he  was  good  at  beating  anyone  in  a  game  of  logic,  yohan’s  immense  knowledge  is  what  eventually  gets  him  into  trouble.

           —   while  getting  his  masters,  yohan  began  using  said  knowledge  to  start  counting  cards  at  casinos.  he’ll  lose  a  few  hands  here  and  there  to  make  up  for  his  big  wins,  but  of  course  it  doesn’t  take  long  for  him  to  start  getting  some  . . .  unwanted  attention.  forever  able  to  get  himself  out  of  trouble  with  a  bit  of  smooth  talking,  it  works  for  a  while  until  he  gets  the  attention  of  the  titans.  if  there  was  one  thing  about  yohan,  he  may  have  been  privileged  since  birth,  but  he  was  both  book  and  street  smart  . . .  maybe  too  much  for  his  good.  it  was  inevitable  that  yohan’s  abilities  to  get  what  he  wants  while  charming  the  pants  off  others  works  in  his  favor.

            —   by  night,  yohan  was  once  a  lowly  thief  himself,  greedy  fingers  taking  what  was  needed  and  executing  flawless  heists  where  they  were  in  and  out  in  record  time.  by  day,  he  was  soon  a  phd  student  which  then  turned  into  having  a  more . . . legitimate  job  as  a  professor  of  game  theory  at  a  local  university.  through  those  years  of  moonlighting,  yohan  moves  up  in  the  ranks,  and  has  now  taken  over  as  capo  of  the  drug  dealers  and  thieves.  (  this  was  bad  i’m  so  sorry  )

*   🃏   𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽𝚂.

a  piece  of  shit,  i’ll  be  the  first  to  admit  it.  he’s  a  one  and  done  kind  of  man  which  makes  him  sound  SO  bad,  but  he’s  just  casual  about  a  lot  of  things  he  does  in  a  romantic  light.

brash  !  straightforward  !  will  tell  you  you’re  stupid  to  your  face  in  the  form  of  :  ‘  are  you  dumb  ?  ’  and  he’s  not  asking.  

since  his  godly  alias  is  hecaterus,  basically  he’s  just  really  good  at  sleight  of  hand  !  which  is  why,  it  makes  sense  that  he’s  good  at  stealing  lol.  probably  teaches  the  dealers  a  thing  or  two  about  how  to  do  quick  transactions  and  the  like,  and  is  good  at  well  executed  heists.  five  minutes  or  less  is  the  goal.

at  most  he  probably  gets  along  with  his  cat  the  best  💀.  the  cat  doesn’t  even  have  a  name  they  just  vibe  in  his  fancy  apartment  together.

well  dressed  . . .  so  well  dressed  he’ll  make  you  cry  (  JOKE  ).  but  in  all  seriousness,  he’s  sharply  dressed  in  well  tailored  suits  or  at  least  well  tailored  button  downs  and  trousers  at  all  times.  hair  is  styled  off  off  his  forehead,  only  ever  down  at  home.  not  much  of  a  sneakers  man  unless  working  out.

probably  has  a  therapist  who  can’t  stand  him  because  he  doesn’t  open  up  and  answers  questions  with  questions.

*   🃏   𝚆𝙰𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙳.

his  heavenly  companion.  maybe  this  is  kinda  silly,  but  basically  one  of  the  strippers  that  he  gets  along  v  well  with  and  idk,  they  vibe  whenever  he  comes  around.  usually  it’s  just  to  hang  out  and  get  a  drink  or  two,  he’ll  pay  them  well  for  literally  five  minutes  of  time  lol  bonus  points  if  they  spill  him  the  beans  about  customers  hehe.

damn  . . .  an  ex  !  i’m  thinking  they  got  really  serious  and  were  so  into  each  other  but  then  they  could have  found  out  what  he  does  really  or  they’re  from  another  syndicate  so  their  breakup  was  really  inevitable.

a  best  friend  !  someone  who  calls  him  out  on  his  shit  and  he  does  vice  versa.  they  get  along  too  well,  almost  bordering  on  the  line  of  siblings.  they  probably  bicker  like  siblings  too.

friends  with  benefits  kinda  situation.  simply  put,  they’re  there  for  one  another  when  they  need  to  relieve  some  steam  but  they  also  get  along  really  well.  someone  catching  feelings  . . .  👀.

crush  ?  idk,  someone  who  might  like  him  (  for  whatever  reason  )  but  it’s  too  damn  oblivious  to  notice  .

of  course,  connections  from  the  titans  !  positive,  negative,  neutral  . . .  hand  it  over  !  and  i’m  down  to  fill  any  wanted  connections  where  you  could  see  yohan  fitting  but  pls  let’s  plot  i’ve  waited  long  enough  !

[stillebesat]

An Unexpected Role

DECEMBER DRABBLES DAY 4 Detective Conan: Kudo Shinichi, Kudo Yukiko Blurb: Despite his best attempts to leave the acting world behind so Shinichi can establish himself as a true detective, somehow his mother keeps reeling him back in. Fic Type: Actor!AU  Overall Fic Warnings: None 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Shinichi groaned flinging the script his mother had handed him onto the table. 

“Shin-chan.” She whined, lips pouting as she gathered the papers with far more reverence than the words on the pages probably deserved. “You’d be perfect!”

He rolled his eyes. “Just because I supposedly look similar to the guy doesn’t mean I’d be perfect for a role playing him, mother.” Nor could he imagine what the guys at Division One would say when they found out. They barely tolerated him poking his nose into their murder cases as it was and now--

“No, that’s the bonus!” The pout was gone in a flash, replaced with a gleeful smile, her eyes bright. “You’re perfect for it because I taught you everything you need to know to pull off all the disguises yourself!” 

Shinichi crossed his arms, turning his head away as she waved the script in front of his face. “No.” 

She huffed, sitting on the edge of the table. “Not just anyone can change their voice to mimic another’s you know. It takes skill and talent. And you have both.” 

And if Nakamori-keibu learned that, Shinichi could very easily end up as Number One on his list of Prime Suspects. No. No. No. 

He exhaled, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. “Mom. I’m a detective first. And you know that most directors don’t take kindly to me taking off at the first sign that a crime has been committed. It doesn’t end well.” Nor did murders happening while he was on set, but at least those weren’t as common...he was sure his mother had something to do with that. Even Death itself couldn’t refuse her her vision of her darling Shin-chan following in her famous acting footsteps. 

Her smile only grew more gleeful. 

Shinichi frowned, he knew that look far too well. “What?” What did she know that he didn’t? 

She laid the script on the table, pushing it to him. “This director wants you to investigate crime scenes.” 

Come again? He raised an eyebrow, ignoring how his heart jumped at the prospect. “He what?” Impossible. 

“He wants you to investigate crime scenes.” She repeated with a laugh.

He straightened. That was....different. Usually directors, if they were smart, made him sign a ‘I won’t go haring off to investigate crimes in the middle of shooting’ clause before agreeing to cast him. He leaned forward, brushing his fingertips on the top page. “What’s the catch?” There had to be one. No good director would be willing to let him--

His mother shrugged. “Well…they wouldn’t be murder crime scenes.” 

The spark of interest faded as quickly as it had appeared. 

Shinichi exhaled, narrowing his eyes. What was the point of going then? “Why would you--

“He wants you to attend the heists!” His mother interrupted, giving him her most pleading puppy dog eyes. “It’s not murders, Shin-chan, but the director insists that if you are to play the role of the famous KID, then you should attend his heists to get a feel for how he works, so that you can perfectly portray him.”

KID Heists? Shinichi rubbed his chin, again glancing at the script. That would be...different. He hadn’t worked with Division 2 before, though he was well aware of Nakamori’s antics from how Inspector Megure complained about the waste of department resources chasing after one thief. 

“If he wants this portrayal to be perfect, why doesn’t the director just ask KID to perform in his own movie? Even with my skills--” Shinichi shrugged. “I’m not going to be an exact copy of the guy.” He could learn just as easily how the thief’s mind worked from viewing footage from previous heists. It wasn’t like there weren’t multiple YouTube channels dedicated to his...work. 

“Silly.” She leaned over to mess with his hair. “KID’s a wanted criminal. It’s not like the police would let the director cast him in his movie.” 

He batted her hand away, making a face. A valid point. Except with how well KID was known to disguise himself...how hard would it be for the thief himself to infiltrate the set? After all, the Division Two hadn’t come even close to catching him yet. He doubted KID would let them do so while in the middle of filming. 

Shinichi shrugged, flattening his hair back down. “Even if that is true, what will the director do if I attend a heist and manage to capture his precious thief?” He raised his hands spreading them in front of his face. “I can already see the Headlines. Kudo Shinichi, set to play the lead role of KID the Phantom Thief in the movie Kaitou KID attended one of KID’s heists last evening and captured the very thief he will be portraying later this year. Fans are in an uproar.” He dropped his hands, shaking his head. “I’m a detective first mother, acting is just a hobby.” 

He ducked before she could whack him on the head with the script. “Never refer to acting as a hobby, Shin-chan!” She scolded. “You already have a well established career as an actor.”

“By complete accident.” Between his parents, with his dad constantly haring off to who knew where to avoid his editors, his mother had taken to bringing Shinichi along to her filming sessions when he was younger. So it wasn’t like he was unfamiliar with the whole industry. He’d grown up under the spotlights, amidst the sounds of ‘action’ and ‘cut!’, surrounded by the dust of makeup and prop building. Being on set was like being home most days. 

Though if his mother hadn’t continued in her career, or if his dad had decided to take him along in his escapades instead, Shinichi would never have considered acting in the first place.  No, for as long as he could remember, he’d always wanted to be a detective. 

“Please, Shin-chan.” His mother pleaded, bottom lip trembling as she widened her eyes. “For me?” 

He hated when she did that. If he said no again she’d be inconsolable for a week. Shinichi exhaled, pulling the script back towards him. 

He should trust her. His mother did have a knack for getting him roles that he could play well. It was just...this was a leading role. Something he’d never imagined ever getting with how fervently he’d gone after solving any and all crimes that crossed his path.

“The Division One is gonna to love this.” He muttered. A Teenage Detective playing the famous Phantom Thief. He was going to be the laughing stock of the entire force. 

But it was either that or face his Mother’s disappointment at passing up such a high profile part. 

He looked up, holding up a finger. “One heist.” He said simply. “Let me see how he works in person, and then I’ll decide if I’m ‘right’ for this role.” 

His mother squealed, pulling him into a rib crushing hug. “OH, SHIN-CHAN! You’ll be just as great as KID I know it!” 

Shinichi made a face, stiff in her arms. He really hoped not. He’d much rather be known as the Detective who caught KID rather than the guy who played the criminal in a movie. 

[the-pontiac-bandit]

miri + sympathy

Miri had never quite gotten the hang of pranks, but she’d certainly improved in her years with the Riders. Her ideas tended to be less subtle and more absurd, aiming for shock that could elicit an entertaining reaction rather than finesse in the prank itself. While she could appreciate finesse in the pranks of others--Evin did have a particular talent for it, after all--she found that successful execution of such complicated plans required far more work than she had any desire to put in. Commanding Spiderdeath--and avoiding being pranked herself--took plenty of her time.

It was only the look on Evin’s face when she saw him last week in the mess hall that had persuaded her to try. They hadn’t seen each other in weeks, which was hardly unusual in and of itself, but he’d snapped at three trainees in line for supper and had failed to clean up the ink stains he left splattered all over the table he sat at alone with his reports. His workload had steadily increased in the months since Buri had officially turned traitor on the Riders to ride with the Own, and she knew he must be losing his mind with all but three of the Rider groups stationed at the northern border in the middle of the largest war in more than a decade, but even she couldn’t deny after that that he deserved to be taken down a peg or two. As the leader of the only group currently in residence at the palace, she’d known it was her place to take the initiative.

She’d brainstormed frantically for days. For all her creativity in cursing her ponies when they didn’t comply--even more than a decade after her first day, she still had what her trainees called an “adversarial and tenuous” working relationship with horses--she’d struggled to think of the right prank to take down a new commander by approximately three notches without ruining any critical paperwork, destroying Crown property, or getting herself fired. She’d started to suspect that this was all an elaborate prank on her from her group members. After all, she found herself the victim of an elaborate joke that threatened to ruin her sanity once and for all at least six times a year, but when she asked for their help with Evin, they’d simply informed her that they’d, of course, do as their group commander told them and left her to her own devices on the planning. Although, she supposed, that might have something to do with how intimidating they found Evin--for all that she thought he was a silly player at heart, with hair that flopped in his eyes and a propensity for wild and poorly-thought out gestures of affection for his friends, she had to wonder if he seemed quite so non-threatening to the brand new Riders who had spent a summer watching him wage a unique brand of psychological warfare that might have scared even Sarge, although he’d never admit it.

As she sat on his desk, kicking her feet against one drawer while she lazed back on her hands against some reports, she wondered if she’d gone too far. Certainly, Kitten had thought the ice slide was a grand idea, but Kitten was a dragon, and a toddler, and Miri would never have trusted her opinion if she hadn’t been quite so desperate.

It took ages for Evin to return from his meeting with the queen. She’d checked his schedule carefully with one of the Rider clerks, and he was expected back by the fourth bell after lunch, but the fifth was rapidly approaching by the time she heard footsteps in the corridor leading to his office. She used one of the last moments she had as he turned a key in the latch to check that the door to the courtyard behind her was still fully shut, apparently locked, and snapped around to face front as he entered the room.

“You’re on my desk because...?” he asked by way of greeting.

“Because last time I sat in one of the chairs, and you failed to notice my presence for a full twenty minutes.”

He’d been nose-deep in a sheaf of papers when he’d come in, a brisk fall breeze blowing leaves in behind him from the courtyard, and he’d walked straight past her. She’d been entertained at first, but it took a kick to the shins under the desk, after she’d cleared her throat several times, to make him realize he was not alone.

“It wasn’t twenty minutes! It couldn’t have been more than five before you left a bruise so bad my leg throbbed for weeks!”

“Weeks? My sources tell me you were fully healed not three days later when you met Sera Gladstone behind the merchants’ day-stables.”

“How’d you hear about that one?” Evin demanded, a hint of awe in his voice.

“I have my sources,” she replied with a pert shrug and a grin.

“I’d commit murder for your sources, Miri. You still won’t turn spy for me?”

“Wherever would I find the time? My commander gets fussy if I don’t have my Riders fully trained and ready to move at his slightest whim,” she shot back. “I thought your side job was a secret from the Riders, anyway.”

“If I can keep it that way.” Evin rubbed his eyes hard, smudging a bit of ink on one temple and leaving his cheeks ruddy. “Sometimes I think I’m one more late night away from cracking and telling the whole palace, just so George will kill me quick.”

“That bad?”

“That bad. I’ve got nearly ten daily reports to read and condense for George now, plus, you know, the actual war going on that Buri dumped me straight in the middle of, plus finding recruits for next spring when not a parent in the kingdom wants their child in military service, plus--”

Miri cut him off before he could get going. “Let’s take a walk then,” she said, perhaps a bit too quickly, with a prayer to the Trickster that he hadn’t noticed. 

“With what time?”

“With the time before dinner. You look like you need it.”

“It’s below freezing.”

“You love the cold.”

“And you hate it.”

Miri almost sighed before she caught herself. She wasn’t sure how she’d gotten herself in this mess, but there were three gallons of purple paint strung up above his door and Riders waiting with very precise instructions on the roof, so she figured she’d best get moving before something came crashing down.

“I’d brave the cold for you, sir,” she said, with her best, most casual eye roll. “My Commander requires a break, and I’m proud to be of service.” She took on some of his own airs in her reply. She’d discovered in their years of friendship that nothing amused him so much as her attempts to put on his Player airs, and she had a vested interest in getting him outside before the sparrows who had agreed to participate left for the page’s wing and their evening meal. 

He sighed as he pushed his chair back from his desk. “Well, let’s get this over with.”

“What?” Miri asked, doing her best to feign innocence. “Is a walk with your oldest friend that intolerable?”

“Miri, you have the worst poker face of anyone I’ve ever met. I’d actually like to rescind my earlier job offer, based solely on this performance. But if I’m going to get pranked, I’d at least like to make it quick so I can get at the reports you’re currently sitting on.”

His eyes darkened as he looked at the stack of papers beneath her, and he rubbed his eyes again. Close to him for the first time in more than two weeks, she noticed the dark circles under his eyes and the new wrinkles at their corners.

“You really are exhausted,” she commented, a twinge of sympathy turning into guilt in the pit of her stomach at the thought of the large quantities of bread dough waiting to cushion his fall at the foot of Kitten’s ice slide.

“I really am.” Evin was moving towards the door to the courtyard, steeling himself with a deep breath while he removed his tunic and folded it carefully on the chair behind his desk that Miri had avoided. 

The twinge of sympathy she’d felt was now a wave, engulfing her and threatening to make her do something she’d never have considered even a half-hour before: back down. 

“Wait! Maybe don’t...open that yet.” She hopped off his desk, wincing as several of the top papers follow her down. Evin paused, one hand on the door’s latch.

She looked around the room frantically for something long enough and found a poker, propped against the small fireplace in one wall. She grabbed it and leaped over the arm onto the chair where Evin’s tunic sat. She spared a quick giggle at his dramatic wince and then tapped the ceiling above her firmly, twice fast and three times slow. She counted to five and repeated the code for good measure--any good Rider plan, they’d been taught, has an out.

When she looked back down, Evin was smiling. There was a familiar glimmer of amusement in his eyes, one that had been missing for weeks. “What was going to happen?”

“Kitten had made an ice slide, and Johanssen and Norris are on the roof with some purple paint, and I had the bakers set dough at the bottom to cushion you, and, well, things escalate from there. The sparrows are probably gone by now, anyway, and I’m not sure that Onua ever set up the wooden horses, she looked so annoyed when I asked...”

Miri trailed off, as Evin started to laugh. She let out a chuckle or two herself as she watched him lose control in fits of giggles, relieved to find that her friend was still there, under the stress and paperwork.

“You’re going to be great at this, you know,” she commented casually, hoping he knew how much she meant the rare compliment.

“I hope you’re right,” he replied, wiping tears from the corner of his eyes as he caught his breath. “Anyway, could we actually go on a walk, now? I’d gotten rather excited to have an excuse to avoid my paperwork. I’ll even bathe in some of the purple paint, if it’ll make Spiderdeath respect your pranks, which are still absolutely terrible, by the way.”

“No purple paint necessary, but I do know the best spot in the night market for a good pasty, if you’re interested.”

Evin was nodding vigorously as he opened the door before he was promptly doused by several gallons of bright lavender paint. Miri groaned, realizing that her Riders must have rigged the buckets to the door and left for their own evening in the city.

Evin, though, was still smiling. “I’d still love a pasty, if you don’t mind the color,” he commented, holding a dripping arm out to her while he used the other hand to wipe his face.

Miri spared a moment’s thought for her clothes--she did like this shirt--but swallowed it as she took the offered arm and linked her elbow in his. After all, he seemed like he needed the night out.

[deltaengineering]

Fall Anime 2019 Part 4: also, he has a gun for a head

Beastars

So here’s the CG anime that everyone for some reason decided way in advance would be the best show of the season, more or less by default. I was very skeptical of this for a multitude of reasons. First of all, that is a bad name for a show and you can’t convince me otherwise. It’s actually even worse because you’re supposed to write it in all caps, but I refuse. Second, it has a terribly on the nose conceit in which all sorts of animals live together in a high school setting and it’s all metaphorical ‘n shit. The main character is a wolf but get this, he’s actually all sensitive and quiet! Yeah, this is definitely rated D for Deep. And finally it’s by Orange, the CG studio that got an inordinate amount of acclaim for making Houseki no Kuni, the show that everyone thinks looks great and finally made CG anime worthwhile (actual real fact: HnK does not look great most of the time and CG anime was worthwhile well before it). 

But enough about my preconceptions since Beastars is... pretty good, actually. If you ignore the setting, which is indeed terribly on the nose. And there’s not much else to say about the story so far besides it. However, it looks significantly better than Houseki no Kuni because it actually has really good character animation throughout instead of a one-minute action scene with flashy spinny camera tricks every other episode. The directing’s strong too, even if the show conspicuously mainly consists of obvious manga panels. I’m still not too hot on the animal stuff but the general writing seems to be sufficiently competent it would work simply on a character level. So I don’t love it, but it seems solid enough to see if it goes somewhere with its “Zootopia but also Beverly Hills 90210 but also they eat each other sometimes″ plot.

Rifle is Beautiful

Remember the whole “anime about some assorted anime girls joining a club doing an oddly specific activity” thing? This is another one of those, and now it’s about air rifle sports shooting. Except it’s not about air rifle sports shooting because that’s apparently way too violent, so they use rifles that look like exactly like air rifles but are actually based on lasers or really bright flashlights (they can’t keep their bullshit straight between scenes, sorry) instead. I just don’t think “girls doing activities” anime should blatantly misrepresent their subject matter like that, you know? With the possible exception of idol anime that is, ain’t nobody who wants to hear about that shit. Apart from that it’s nothing special, so if you are really into air rifles and wish to watch an anime that’s not about those, knock yourself out. It goes through a whole “club needs 5 members” arc in the first half of the first episode, so I really can’t say where it goes next. Nowhere much, I would guess.

Oh right, there’s one more thing: They frequently render the bodies in CG and the heads in traditional drawings, and they do it every time when they’d actually have to draw a rifle otherwise. It’s a weird effect that I think I haven’t seen anywhere else before, and it’s not great but also not terrible. And it’s the most interesting thing about the entire show.

Kabukicho Sherlock

“Let’s take a bunch of public domain characters and put them into a hip modern setting” seems to be its own genre at the moment, and not only because the BBC did that with S. Holmes, Esq. already. Obviously this show is influenced by that (besides other public domain namedroppers like Bungou Stray Dogs), mostly in Watson and his relationship with Sherlock, but Sherlock-san is rather different here; he’s neither the classic Victorian bohemian nor the abrasive sociopath of the BBC version, and tends more towards a bumbling 90s pop culture version of autism and/or general wackiness here. These two are surrounded by a bunch of campy transvestites for some reason, and I’m not quite sure whether I’m supposed to find this particular stereotype offensive or empowering this week, but it sure is annoying. And it has the same character designer as Joker Game, so if you like chiseled, angular anime men, you’re in for a treat here - even if they tend to wear a lot of makeup and dresses sometimes. I don’t know man, it seems sort of okay-ish for the most part but it’s neither as funny as they think, nor as weird as they think, nor is the murder of the week intriguing at all. Oh yeah, he’s hunting noted public domain character Jack the Ripper. Because of course he is.

 Shin Chuuka Ichiban!

I am told this is the sequel to episode 19 of a 52-episode anime TV show from 1997. Okay. I am also told to not dare watch this without the important setup therein, which makes me think I should pay less attention to what I’m told because understanding Shin Chuuka Ichiban and its backstory is not hard at all. Kid is superawesome cooking champion in ancient China and goes around clowning on lesser cooks, got it. It’s not a complicated setup and it’s not a complicated genre either: This seems to be mostly about sick shounen cooking duels. Besides the setting, the main difference between this and Shokugeki no Soma seems to be that SnS goes for ridiculous and Chuuka Ichiban goes for epic - which is to say that it fancies itself emotional as well. Apart from that it’s what you’d expect from a cooking shounen, big moves, big reactions, huge twists and so on. One notable thing is that this show looks really, really nice. Production I.G seems to be establishing a sideline in taking stuff from the 90s and updating it with smoother animation and shinier lighting, while keeping the overall look intact; They did it for Mahoujin Guru Guru, and this looks much the same. Still, I’m just fundamentally not really interested in what appears to be a very straightforward cooking shounen from the 90s.

Assassins Pride

Straight from the Department of Chuuni, we have this light novel masterpiece about a cool as fuck teenage assassin who teleports behind u and nothin personells fools all day. He then meets a princess he’s supposed to off but just kinda decides not to, probably because she seems to be smitten by his m’lady act. Now he has to use his sick skillz to keep them both alive. It’s awful and terrible and no good and also kind of adorable. This truly is the most 13 AND A HALF MOM years old anime in a while, and it’s not even isekai! The writing’s just so amateurish and corny you can’t help but smile when princesses exposit their backstory for no reason while being accosted by pumpkin monsters (without knowing that Awessassin McCooldude happens to be listening in, which is certainly convenient). Or when the episode ends with the man just reading the synopsis of the show out again, in case you were too fascinated by this plot to pay attention to what it’s about. Yeah I’m not going to watch this in a thousand years, but it sure made me chuckle. Your mileage may vary.

Mugen no Juunin - Immortal

Speaking of 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔱𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔢𝔡𝔤𝔢, another anime adaptation of Blade of the Immortal appeared! You know, the manga for the cultured and historically minded guro fan. The first episode of Blade of the Immortal runs with this and is an arthouse production that someone most definitely directed the shit out of. I don’t think I’ve seen this much directing since, well, Sarazanmai, but “Ikuhara amounts of directing” is pretty much the idea here. And most of the time it even works! The quickly edited, disorienting style gives episode 1 a feeling closer to horror than to a cool swordmen action show, and that really brings out the best in the material, which is grotesque splatter bordering on the comical - It’s somehow a better Junji Ito anime than the actual Junji Ito anime. I think it tries too hard in a few places, but at least it does try.

But then I watched the second episode and that one’s a fairly conventional splatter-comedy swordin’ anime. I am not at all pleased with this development. The third episode was better again and seemed to split the difference between 1 and 2, even if it mostly uses the tricky editing to save on effort in the action –  I would much prefer actually readable fights and the wacky mannerisms in the more psychological stuff, thank you very much. Based on episode 1 I thought we might have something special here, but as of episode 3 I’d already merely call it pretty decent. I guess I’ll still stick with it but man, that’s a real bummer.

No Guns Life

No Guns Life is a neo-noir thriller about a guy who has a gun for a head. That’s fuckin rad and exactly the kind of silliness I am totally down for. He also has a gun for a hand, and there’s also some battle nun’s who carry revolvers with two cylinders, so in short I think the title is false advertising. This sounds very wacky (and it is), but it also takes its noir very seriously, down to details more wannabe neo-noirs tend to neglect (like being set right after a big war). The look and feel is pretty excellent, with sharp design and high-contrast artwork, and the music goes all in on the moody saxophone as you’d expect. And there’s some really adorable “look mom, I’m writing” stuff about how Man With Gun For A Head really “needs someone to pull his trigger” and so on (which is, as the astute reader might remember, at the back of his head). It feels like a throwback but then I can’t really think of many 80s/90s shows like this, so it’s actually more like the sort of faux-retro idea Trigger/Imaishi would come up with on a lark. Trigger/Imaishi would, of course, make a far worse anime out of it, so it’s all good. Well, it has some pacing problems and as always it’s a fine line between amusingly camp and not so amusingly camp anymore, but No Guns Life seems to have enough real qualities that it can probably stand on its own even when its conceptual gimmick eventually doesn’t suffice anymore. I give it a two gun’s up.

Hoshiai no Sora / Stars Align

And finally, here’s an anime about middle schooler softboys playing a tennis just as soft as themselves, while being henpecked by the elites on the girl’s team. This is not an “actual” sports anime though: for starters, it’s not based on some shounen manga and is an anime original with quite some staff pedigree instead. It’s also more of a character drama that already goes to some surprisingly real places by the end of episode 1, reminiscent of the recent and quite good Run with the Wind. Furthermore, it looks delicious, with minimalist but distinctive and varied character designs and animation that’s both extremely detailed for a TV anime and also not trying to shove that fact into your face with flashy stunt cuts. In short, this show seems very simple at first glance but every aspect of it just oozes quality. If nothing else, it’s already worth watching just for the excellent ending sequence where the characters show off their “best” dance moves and the chunky student council president dunks on everyone. This one caught me by surprise and it’s an easy pick for most promising show of the season.

[asotoriver-blog]

Elisabeth

The first time Elisabeth thought she was in love was when she met Carter Ramos, who at the unfortunate age of 13, tripped into the disgusting Kyle Vaughn who had been trying to talk to her, effectively pulling Kyle’s pants to his ankles as he fell to the floor.

She’d screamed loudly, and promptly kicked Kyle in the shins, and then Carter in the chest as she ran to find a teacher while everyone else in the hall laughed at Kyle.

Carter later came up to her at lunch, apologizing for embarrassing her with that stupid sheepish smile, and she’d invited him to sit with her. It was a lonely table the seconds before he’d come over. Elisabeth wasn’t exactly one that many enjoyed being friends with, but even though Carter blinked confusedly and made a couple of exasperated faces while she spoke of her dreams to live in the lap of luxury, he never once told her that she was being stupid.

By winter break, Elisabeth had an invitation to spend Christmas Day over at the Ramos household. She adored Caliah, pestering her about the fancy school that she went to in the next city over, and the Ramos sister had laughed and answered every question with a grin and an excited reply. Carter had watched the two with an ever present grin on his face, and Elisabeth had wholey believed that the two of them were going to get married and live happily ever after. It helped that every now and then he would give her something shiny, a ring that he’d lifted off of an unfortunate engagement reject, or a pretty crown from an antiques collector. She knew that he’d stolen them, and she fancied them the prince and princess of thieves.

That summer, Elisabeth met Meena, and everything turned on its head.

It wasn’t love that Elisabeth felt for Carter, at least not the type that she’d originally thought it would be. She looked at him and saw support, an unpredictable grin that could shield her from the worst of fates, and though he missed some of them, she could see just how much he was trying to hold the weight of all their friend’s on his own. She loved him as a friend, the closest that she felt to in their little crew.

She was so desperately in love with Meena, and she knew it could never be. Elisabeth had asked Carter if his own best friend had any interest in girls at all, and Carter, while he looked a little surprised, had shook his head sadly, and that had been the end of it all. Despite Elisabeth’s best efforts to crush down any form of romantic affection for the brash girl, she still couldn’t help the nervousness in her chest every time they would talk.

It helped that Carter would grab her arm if it ever looked like things were going to get out of hand, and they played at pretending to date to throw off suspicion. But they both knew that it was such a silly lie that the moment they actually considered it, they’d ended up on the floor laughing, and Caliah had asked them both to leave the house if they were just going to distract her.

Carter had done his best to keep it a secret, as Elisabeth had asked him too. But the best he could do was keep it from Meena herself, Mason and Parker far too perceptive to see through the fanciful lies that Elisabeth told herself. Mason, she could trust to keep a secret. Parker, not a chance.

She wasn’t entirely sure what Carter had told Parker, but for some reason the eldest of their crew never breathed a word to Meena. Her secret was safe.

Elisabeth trusted Carter implicitly, and though she knew that he would never come to her with his own hurts, she tried to make things easier on him as well. When Parker disappeared their junior year, she watched as his smile shifted from the sheepish grin to a cynical smirk. Meena had questioned him about it, she knew. She’d heard them arguing. Loudly. In the middle of class.

When Carter finally came to her for comfort, nearly vibrating out of his skin with all the anxious thoughts and guilt, all Elisabeth could do was try to hold on as tightly as she could.

She thought they would keep in touch after High School, and they did for a time. She thought that maybe, even if they never got out of that wretched neighborhood, they’d be able to at least have each other for company.

Then someone murdered Carter and Elisabeth nearly went insane.

Caliah was the only thing that held her back, kept her fighting for her sanity. She kept her dreams of living in luxury on the back burner because she knew that throwing a fit wouldn’t bring him back. Diamonds wouldn’t bring the dead back to life. She had to remind herself of that, staring at the stolen ring with such a glare that someone told her that she may end up melting it.

Elisabeth would move on from the slums and the halls of the high school. She’d move on and upwards and she would get out before someone killed her too.

She may not have been in love with Carter, but god, she wasn’t entirely sure she was ever going to recover.

[ohmytheon]

Please do a oneshot where all the teachers and Class 1-A are turned into children by a villain after hearing a Villain's lullaby and our boi, Deku, is forced to take care of them. Deku defeats the villain and the teachers find out that he defeated them because young King Explosion Murder blew up Deku ears

Please don’t think hard about this plot or villain because I didn’t. I just came up with something off the top of my head. I’ve seen fics like this before, but have never written one, so it was entertaining.

There were a lot of things that Izuku planned for, many of them convoluted, most of them weird, and some of them absolutely crazy. During his time at U.A., a lot of wild things had happened. Villains had attacked him and his classmates how many times? Not to mention all the ridiculous training that they were put through. Every time he had thought that things were going to calm down and he could just focus on his hero training, something else happened. Some new villain, some ridiculous quirk, so insane plan to attack them.

Nothing would ever prepare him completely for all the stuff he had to go through in order to become the number one hero.

Least of all a super villain singing a lullaby that turned his teachers and classmates into toddlers.

Izuku had missed the battle. He’d been clear across town visiting his mom when it happened. She wasn’t feeling well, so he’d skipped an off campus school function in order to go home and take care of her. As soon as  he heard about a villain attacking his classmates, alerted by a phone call from Iida, Izuku had bolted. He’d used Full Cowl to get there as fast as he could, leaping from building to building and sprinting down alleyways.

By the time he reached the function though, it was too late. Not only had the villain escaped, but something tragic and incredibly weird had happened. Izuku gawked at the sight before him. At first, he hadn’t known what he was seeing. Had the local elementary schools been invited to the function? Then where were the teachers? Where were his classmates?

A short, spikey-haired blonde boy with red eyes ran up to him and before Izuku could even blink, the kid kicked him right in the shins.

“Ouch! What was that–?” Izuku stopped mid-sentence, bent over rubbing his shin, as he stared into the eyes of the toddler that had seen fit to kick him. He recognized those arrogant eyes, that angry scrunched up face, the way the kid’s hands sat on his hips. “K-Kacchan?”

“Stupid Deku,” the little boy – no, it was Kacchan – snarled before throwing a hand out to cause an explosion right in Izuku’s face. He was a kid though and Izuku was no longer the little four year-old boy that got the crap kicked out of him for being quirkless and so he was able to dodge little Kacchan easily.

It was a kind of mean thing to do, but Izuku put one of his hands on top of Kacchan’s head and held him back. Because he was still, his explosions weren’t nearly as strong as they had been before. The boy kept swinging his arms and shooting off mini explosions. As he held little Kacchan back, Izuku looked around the scene and finally began to see what had happened.

Everyone had been turned into children. It wasn’t just Kacchan. It wasn’t even just his classmates. It was some of the teachers too.

Izuku was startled to see a young Aizawa, his hair still a mess, his face almost entirely covered by scarves, but looking more awake than he’d ever been. Not nearly as much as Present Mic, who was chasing Aizawa around the area and yelling at the top of his lungs, which meant that everything glass shattered in his wake.

Then there were his friends. A cute as a button Uraraka floating everything she could get her hands on and standing under floating tables precariously. Iida zooming around. Asui hiding in the fountain, only her eyes and the top of her head visible. Kaminari had already zapped himself silly while Ashido was throwing acid around in the air. The only one not trying to induce a heart attack in Izuku was Todoroki, who was quietly sitting in a chair by himself.

Not really know what else to do, Izuku took Kacchan by the wrist (he was really going to pay for this if Kacchan remembered anything) and guided him over to Todoroki. As soon as Izuku was in front of him, he crouched down to little Todoroki’s level. “Hey, uh…” It was clear that Kacchan remembered him, but that also might have been because they had known each other at this age. He hadn’t known the others. Did they remember him or were they of the mind back then? “Buddy?”

It didn’t look like Todoroki wanted to talk to him. Now that he was eye level with him though, Izuku was startled to realize something very different about his friend, besides the fact that he was four.

Todoroki’s burn mark on his face was gone.

“I’m not supposed to talk with strangers,” Todoroki informed him.

“Ah, that’s right,” Izuku responded. So they had reverted back to who they were at four years-old, mind and body. Surely the memories were there somewhere, but locked away until they went back to normal. “But I’m a pro hero!” He wasn’t, not yet technically, but he had his provisional license. He held out a hand. “My name is Deku.”

Todoroki examined his hand suspiciously and then shook it. “I’m Shoto Todoroki. My dad is a pro hero.”

“Wow, that’s very…cool.” Okay, so maybe Endeavor hadn’t turned into the total bastard that he became by the time Todoroki was four. It must have happened after. Good to know. “Do you know what happened here?”

“Um…” Todoroki scrunched up his face thoughtfully.

A small explosion startled Izuku and he remembered that he still had a hold of Kacchan. “Don’t tell him! Deku is a big nerd.” Great, a small child was sassing him. Back then, such a statement would’ve had Izuku’s bottom lip quivering since all the kids would be laughing at him. Now it just made him feel tired. Was this what Kacchan’s parents had had to deal with?

“I can’t…remember…” A slightly distressed look came over Todoroki’s face as he struggled to recall what had occurred. It was a child’s fear, the unknown that made all children anxious. “There was…singing? A woman singing? Like my mom does when I go to bed and then… I woke up here because all the kids were loud.” The worry left little Todoroki’s face, replaced by a glare towards Kacchan. “He was setting off explosions.”

“You gonna stop me, wimp?” Kacchan laughed, mini explosions appearing over his hands.

Todoroki jumped out of the chair and ice appeared when his right foot hit the ground. “Maybe!”

“Whoa, hey, let’s not fight!” Izuku exclaimed, getting in between the two kids. They were only four, but already Kacchan and Todoroki were competing to see who was the strongest. It was a good thing they hadn’t gone to school with each other. They would’ve either become friends or destroyed the school fighting one another.

As he was trying to deal with them, a clap of thunder interrupted him and half the kids screamed in panic. Izuku glanced up and saw that a storm was about to break, dark clouds swirling above them. Most of the kids had stopped running around to look up as drops of rain began to fall. Izuku knew immediately that he had to do something or they were all going to get caught out in the rain and the kids would catch a cold.

Izuku jumped on the chair formerly occupied by Todoroki. “Alright, kids! My name is Deku and I’m a hero!” By a stroke of luck, all of them looked up at him, some of them with confusion and others with awe. It was a strange scene considering these were his classmates and students and he was taller than all of them. “We need to go into that building so none of us gets stuck in the rain! Got it?”

“I like the rain, ribbit!” little Asui shouted from the fountain.

“Yeah, but do you like lightning?” Izuku asked.

At that exact moment, lightning crackled across the sky. It turned out that Asui did not like it and neither did many of the kids. It was kind of a madhouse and he was swept along in a tidal wave of kids, but he managed to get them inside the building before it started storming in earnest. It wasn’t until he was inside that he found out it was a library. Dead silence turned into a total ruckus as the kids were cramped in the tight area up front.

“What is the meaning of this?” one of the librarians demanded as she ran up to him.

“I, uh… I don’t really know how to explain this.” Izuku felt himself being tugged and pulled by many of the kids. Some were questioning him while others were trying to tell him something. They were all speaking at once so he couldn’t really figure out what they were saying. “A villain must have attacked the school function and somehow… Well, it looks like she made them revert to back when they were four.”

“Excuse me?” the librarian replied shrilly.

“Yeah, I know, it’s weird!” Izuku gave a nervous laugh. She did not appear amused at all. “Did you by chance see a woman singing or run away not too long ago?”

A funny look came over the librarian’s face. “Well, a woman did come in here a few minutes ago. She was in an awful hurry…”

“Which way?” Izuku asked. She pointed towards the back where, of course, the kid’s section was. He turned to face the kids. “Okay, so I need to find that lady so I’m going to–”

Of course this was right when Kacchan decided to let out an actually strong explosion right in Izuku’s face and began to laugh. He staggered backwards into the front desk, waving his hands about, and then gripped the side of his head. All he could hear was ringing. The librarian was taking turns scolding little Kacchan and then saying something to Izuku, but he couldn’t hear her at all. He shook his head, but it was no use.

Whatever. He didn’t have time to deal with this. His hearing would come back eventually. It wasn’t the first time Kacchan had done something like this. He used to think it was funny to do it in school so Izuku would struggle during class while his hearing came back. In retrospect, it might’ve done some permanent damage.

Pointing a finger at the kids and then at the ground, telling them to stay put, Izuku said far too loudly, “Stay here!” and then took off. The librarian was probably shouting at him, but he couldn’t hear her so he didn’t feel as bad about ignoring her. He couldn’t bring kids to fight with a villain. It was safer for them to stay here.

Using Full Cowl, he was able to speed through the library until he went through the back door. When he saw a woman walking briskly away, he knew that it was her. She looked so innocent. The villain had only had a few minutes head start and apparently wasn’t running anymore, thinking that she’d got away. He shouted, “Hey you!” and she spun around. As soon as they connected eyes, she panicked and started to run again, but it wasn’t much of a match for Izuku to catch up with her.

Izuku managed to get in front of her, skidding to a halt, and she stopped as well, hands thrown up to catch her balance. “Turn them back!” he ordered. He felt his voice more than heard it. The woman’s lips started moving, but he couldn’t catch what she was saying. He squinted his eyes at her lips, trying to read them, but that wasn’t one of his skills. He really should work on that. It would come in handy during detective work as a hero. “What?”

The woman stopped and blinked, a confused expression on her face. Her lips moved again and he heard a little something, but it was still so dull. Damn, Kacchan’s explosion had done a number. Hopefully he hadn’t busted an eardrum again.

All Izuku could do was shrug his shoulders, “Huh? I can’t hear you! Just don’t try anything funny!”

A strange thing happened. The woman’s shoulders dropped and she gaped at him, completely at a loss for words. He didn’t think he’d said anything too weird. And then it clicked. She wasn’t trying to say anything to him; she was singing. The last thing Todoroki remembered was a woman singing and then he’d been a kid. Her quirk must have turned them into kids’ via her singing! But since Kacchan had let off an explosion right next to Izuku’s ears, he couldn’t hear her singing for her quirk to work.

One might’ve thought that Kacchan, some subconscious part of him that wasn’t a four year-old, had done it on purpose so Izuku could catch the villain.

Izuku knew that Kacchan had done it just to be a little shit.

Knowing full well that she couldn’t fight him or escape, having little combat skills or speed, the villain huffed and held out her hands. It was pretty much the easiest capture that he’d ever had. His hearing was starting to come back though and he didn’t want to chance her singing and turning him into a kid, so he slapped a hand around her mouth while he called the police. It was incredibly awkward and a part of Izuku was dying mentally on the inside while they waited. The call had been difficult too since he’d still been struggling to hear. A lot of shouting had been involved. He’d looked mental.

Once the cops were there though, they were able to properly keep her from singing and got her in handcuffs. Just as they were putting her in the cop car though, Izuku jogged over to her. “Hey, you need to put them back!” She quirked an eyebrow up at him. “I’ll send every single one of those kids to your jail cell. Trust me; you do not want to be around a four year-old Kacchan.”

She let out a sigh behind what more or less looked like a muzzle and then closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she nodded her head and then turned away from him so that the cop could shut the door completely. At first, Izuku wasn’t sure if she’d done it. Nothing had happened on his side. He rubbed his right ear, as if he could work the rest of his hearing back into it. There was still a slight ringing noise.

Izuku knew that his hearing had come back and his friends returned to normal when he heard Kacchan screaming, “WHY AM I FUCKING COLORING?” from inside the library. Oh, right, he’d left all the little versions of his friends and teachers in there. Izuku winced. Maybe if he just walked away and pretended like he hadn’t been here, he could escape this mess without anyone knowing the better. “DEKU!”

Maybe dealing with Kacchan as a kid would’ve been a lot easier than dealing with him now. He should’ve let that woman’s quirk stay on for a little longer, at least for Kacchan.

[goffilolo]

Demise of Midoriya Izuku (part 9)

Hi! Happy new year. i hope you enjoy this chapter. It’s much shorter than the last few, but i guess i missed the shgorter format. it also allows me to post more frequently. the whole fic is also on ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11557743/chapters/30250017

Another day, another opportunity to piss off your psychiatrist. Because when life gives you lemons you squeeze them to get the juice in Shin’s eyes.

“-now this time I want you to open up a new page in your notebook and fill it with all of your good qualities” said Shin as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

“My what now?” asked Izuku, feeling very unimpressed and maybe slightly sarcastic, but not too much since he already had lunch.

“Izuku!” exclaimed the doctor in his usual halharted threatening tone “we’ve talked about this.”

“No, we didn’t! You talked about this, and I pretended to listen while plotting Endeavour’s murder” said the boy as a matter of fact while flipping through his notebook and pointing to a particular page titled ‘KILL ENDEAVOUR’ to prove his point.

“See? That’s another thing” shouted Shin as he stood up and pointed at his patient “What’s up with your fixation on Endeavour?”

“He’s an ass”

“No that’s not it...I mean it kinda is, but that’s not your main problem. There’s plenty of assholes you could be fixated on, Fuckugou would’ve been a better choice, given that he actually fucked you up, yet somehow…” the doctor trailed off, hoping to achieve a dramatic effect, which was not dramatic, just straight up annoying - according to Izuku at least.

“...somehow, you’re hyper fixated on this one asshole who you’ve never even met in your life, who hasn’t done anything to you, who you haven’t had any contact with whatsoever.  You know what I think?” he asked cheekily.

“No, but I’m probably about to find out” said Izuku, rather unimpressed with his doctor’s childish behaviour.

“I think…” there he goes again with the annoying pause.

“JUST GET FUCKIN ON WITH IT!”

“Alright, alright. I think that deep down it all goes back to your father-”

“For fucks sake, Shin not again. Literally every session you bring up my dad at some point. I don’t even know why you want me to talk about him, because THERE ISN’T ANYTHING TO TALK ABOUT! I haven’t seen this man since i was a little kid, I don’t remember shit about him, and yet you fixate on him. Now which one of us has daddy issues, huh?!” shouted Izuku as he overflowed with irritation. The topic of his dad was a bit of a sore spot for him and he knew it. And Shin knew it just as much. So why would he try to poke and pry on purpose, knowing how much it would agitate his patient?

“With you it’s always daddy issues, or mommy issues, it’s such a Freudian thing, you’re practically fixated on it” exclaimed Izuku, trying to divert the attention from the topic, as well as blow off some steam by messing with the psychiatrist “Is there anything you’d like to tell me? Do you perhaps want to fuck Freud?”

“Izuku, what the actual fuck!” shouted the doctor, feeling slightly disturbed by the boy’s mental gymnastics that lead to this conclusion.

“Two can play that game, Shin”

“No, no, no! We’re not doing it, I see what you’re doing and we’re not going off the topic. Back to the problem” said the doctor as he glared at the boy, wanting to get back to the main problem rather entertain Izuku by indulging him in his shenanigans.

“Because your father left so early you now have this internal unresolved conflict that you refer to as ‘daddy issues’ that you simply refuse to acknowledge and deal with, which is why you’re going to be bitter and sensitive about the subject and never be able to move on, unless you actually face it like an adult” said Shin in a gentle voice, one that Izuku has never heard before, and barely recognized as belonging to this man. It was one of those rare moments when shin showed him a different side of himself that Izuku knew meant something important.

“Alright then you Freudfucker, enlighten me about my daddy issues and how do they relate to my Endeavour hatred” said Izuku as he mentally patted himself on the back for coming up with ‘Freudfucker’.

The doctor glared at him, but otherwise did not acknowledge the new insult, insead he opened up his notes about the unruly patient and began to elaborate on the origins of the ‘daddy issues’.

“Due to the distance between your father and yourself there is a gap of some sort where a ‘father’ figure is ought to be. Basically any male figure who you look up to, admire, learn from. When it comes to you Izuku, that gap has been filled by All Might for a very long time, which makes sense if you look at it; it’s a very distant admiration of a person who you have no interaction with, the same way you have no interaction with your father.”

“Ok, that sounds like some Freudian shit, but ok” said Izuku, feeling a bit skeptical, but still curious about where all of this is going.

“After your suicide attempt and letting go of your dreams to be a hero All Might is no longer a centre of your universe, he is no longer an aspiration, therefore the gap remains empty once again. Right now you’re angry, you’re bitter and for good reasons. However there is also this anger towards your father, which you refuse to touch upon or even acknowledge, which caused you to look for another target so to say. I’m not saying you see Endeavour as a father figure, but he’s an excellent scapegoat for your anger as it allows you to both be angry on someone else’s behalf over his shitty behaviour, as well as project your own feelings. Again a distant, one-sided interaction, the same way as with your father, because you simply don’t know how to do it any other way.”

The long winded explanation of the doctor was followed by a pregnant silence as the teen was still trying to process everything the psychiatrist said to him. He felt the usual irritation’ a byproduct of his defences when it came to being analysed to a point where you’re unsure of your own motivations and identity. It felt like being scratched on the inside, knowing that it’s there, but unable to touch it yourself. The vulnerability that came with those sessions was something Izuku will never become fully comfortable with, but he’s smart enough to know that it’s not meant to be pleasant, it’s meant to be helpful.

“What the fuck” said Izuku, softly, but full of emotions that he cannot yet comprehend.

“Sorry, was it a bit too much?” asked Shin sheepishly, feeling that he overwhelmed the teenager.

“A bit is a strong word.”

“Yeah”

The silence dragged on, neither knowing how to continue the session. To be fair the session was almost over anyway. Shin looked at his watch awkwardly, then back at Izuku hoping that the boy will get the hint and end his misery. The man really hated being put in such tense, awkward situations.

“So…” he said, standing up from the chair and heading towards the door.

“Time’s up?” asked Izuku as he slowly started to wheel himself out of the room.

“Don’t worry, we will continue next session. I’m glad that we finally broke through your defences when it comes to the topic of your father. I hope we can make more progress from now on”

“Oh yeah? Well I hope to win a lottery, but life is not a wish-a-bitch” said Izuku sarcastically.

Just as the boy was about to leave the room he was smacked on the head with a clipboard.

“Oi, what did I say before? Don’t get cocky with me. And don’t forget to do what I asked you to. I know it seems silly, but it’s an opportunity for you to look at yourself beyond the image of a ‘quirkless, pitiful boy’ that the whole world around you insists on. You’re more than an extra joint in your foot.” said Shin in that inspirational tone that always irked Izuku.

“We’ll see about that”

………………………………………………………………………………

The next day Shin found a very familiar notebook stuck on the door to his office with a note attached saying ‘did my homework like a good student ;)’.

‘Suspicious’ thought Shin ‘very suspicious’.

He grabbed the notebook and went into the office, already dreading whatever it was he was about to see.

While flicking through many pages of personal thoughts, Endeavour related conspiracies and very graphic drawings depicting the hero’s death, the doctor has finally reached the last page titled ‘The Awesomeness of Midoriya Izuku’.

What followed was a list of ‘good qualities’, most of which in Shin’s opinions would be more suitable in the context have they been titled ‘How to be a perfect criminal’.

‘Superb murder planning’

‘Can sing All Might’s theme song while asleep’

‘Would be a good stalker’

‘No self preservation (survival is for the weak)’

The doctor sighed and closed the notebook, feeling already tired despite the fact that his shift hasn’t even began. This was going to be another long day.

“IZUKU!”