#i actually finish something for once and it gets posted everywhere you know the drill by now

[sunkiisu]

Faust sweep :] (no reposts)

[romcomxb]

i just saw twisters so now i’m continuing on from this post i made and turning it into a twisters au-

Long story short the previous post was an AU where Bradley never joined the Navy. Instead he became a Wilderness EMT. (in the post jake’s still a pilot but i’m changing that now).

One day Bradley and his team get called to Oklahoma, where a once in a lifetime tornado week was in full swing. High levels of casualties were expected and the government had been struggling to provide for the influx of people loosing everything. Oklahoma’s emergency services were already thinly spread over the state and they needed teams who were more specialised, Bradley’s team were the obvious choice.

Anyway, in the aftermath of the first tornado, Bradley’s right in the middle of the destroyed town, providing emergency medical aid to whoever he can.

As he finishes cleaning up one patient, a figure pushes a young girl toward him. The girl was clutching her wrist gingerly, and Bradley got to work quickly. A few moments later he realises that the figure was still standing over him and the EMT glances up. In front of him was no other than, self labeled tornado wrangler and youtube sensation, Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin. Of course Bradley didn’t recognise him, he wasn’t really one for youtube.

‘You okay there?’ Bradley asked with a raised eyebrow and the man seems to squirm under his hat.

‘Mhmmm,’ The cowboy nodded and glances at the girl. ‘Just wanted to make saw she was okay.’

Bradley shrugged, ‘well she’s in safe hands, we’ll make sure she gets back to her Mama, don’t worry.’

‘Good.’ Jake replied gruffly, wiping his hands on his thighs. ‘Uh-‘

‘Anything else mister?’ Bradley watched him closely, curious as to what was going on.

‘Oh, yeah, no, I’ll uh, see you round.’ He nodded quickly and turned on his heel, striding back toward his crew.

Bradley shrugged it off and continued his work, heading back to his motel late that night, exhausted.

Over the next few days, Bradley and his team were continually the first on site after each tornado hit. And surprise surprise, Jake seemed to be everywhere.

What was a mutual acknowledgment of each others presence became the beginnings of a friendship. Bradley had no clue what Jake was doing there, but he always seemed to be helping, so he didn’t think much of it. Plus he wasn’t bad to look at.

Eventually Bradley noticed the t-shirts, or Jake’s fan club, or the constant filming and that night he spends a good few hours going through his channel. Surprising even himself, Bradley actually enjoyed a few of the videos. Jake was smarter than he let on, he’d give him that. But now he understood why Jake was on scene before the first responders almost every time.

Then on Bradley’s night off he decided to go out for a change and headed to the rodeo. And because fate and the powers that be (aka me) are meddling little shits, Jake and Bradley ended up sitting next to each other.

They get to talking, Bradley explained how he’s from California, and is here for the week for work. Jake told him how he really appreciates Bradley’s work, how it’s important and all that. Of course Bradley’s heard a similar speech many times before, but something about hearing it from Jake feels different. More meaningful, like it carries more weight.

Then the sirens go off and all hell breaks loose.

Sure Bradley’s spent plenty of time around the aftermath of a tornado, but being in one is an entirely different matter. He’s got common sense, of course, and he’s taken plenty of survival courses, he knows the basics, but it’s very different in person to on paper.

Bradley finds himself blindly following Jake, ducking and running, until he spots a mother bundling her child into a car, and clarity hits him. Something that’s been drilled into him for years. Cars aren’t safe. Not in a tornado this strength. Within seconds he’s shouting at the mother, helping her pull her daughter back out and toward the motel, where Jake’s holding the door open.

After an argument with the receptionist that took way too long, they finally managed to hunker down in the empty pool, and waited out the rest of the storm.

By the end of it, Bradley wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to breathe properly again.

When Jake finally gives the all clear and stands up, Bradley can barely pry his fingers from the plumbing. When he does stand up, he’s stiff and sore and the adrenaline was already beginning to disappear.

Jake helps him out of the pool, and he numbly looks around. The sight before him manages to snap him out of his stupor.

The two got to work helping who they could, Jake looking for lost family members, Bradley helping with what first aid that he could before the ambos arrived.

Basically they get together after this at some point- i was gonna write more but it’s 1:40 am and the coffees worn off and i should probably sleep, so enjoy? sorry🥲 i might write more tmrw.

[rakumel]

Raku Plays Her Faves, Ys VIII Chapter 6: Crouching Wasp, Hidden Dungeon

(This was actually put together several weeks ago along with most of the other Ys 8 posts. There's still a few more still sitting in my drafts, but lately I haven't had much time or energy to sit down and properly edit them. Also had to redo some screenshots, with mixed results. Sorry for the weird and long gaps in between these posts.)

One night, while trying to finish up some stuff before moving on to the end game, I discovered that there's an entire optional dungeon area that I've never explored before.

(Here, have an accidental screenshot of Dana right before she opens up a package of frozen whoopass.)

But anyway, y'all know the drill by now, spoilers below:

I'm not completely sure what unlocks it, to be honest. If it's doing all of Dana's quests in the past, or just the final one, or if you have to have defeated [BIG spoiler boss], or if it's something you get after beating the game once on a certain difficulty, or what. All I know is, after completing Dana's final event in the past and coming back to the present, there was a green shield icon on the map that wasn't there before. What that icon means is there's something of significance at that spot that you haven't discovered yet. Usually it's a landmark or castaway that needs to be rescued.

I'd found and cleared all those up until this point, so this new one intrigued me. It was located in the ruins of Aegias, specifically in the stupa - the building with the very tall crystal in the center of the city. In the past, Dana's been exploring a massive, multi-story sanctuary under there, but in the present that's all been closed off...

...until now.

The cavernous temple is now broken down and in ruins, like the rest of the city, and is crawling with high-level, annoying monsters. The part of the temple that had clear water running through it is now a murky, overgrown swamp. The floor that had magma all around it in the past, has cooled in the present, aside from huge walls of flame that shoot up as if an eruption might still be imminent. Not to mention, it's a lot darker everywhere. (I had to kind of doctor some of the screenshots just so you could tell what was in them, but trust me, it's dark. There's an item you can equip that mitigates that, but even that doesn't do all that much.) It's kind of fascinating in a sad way, if that makes any sense.

To show you what I mean, here are some screenshots of this dungeon area from Dana's time in the past:

Compare those with how it looks in the present:

The good news is, Dana doesn't have to explore it all by herself anymore; you got your three active party members that you can switch out as needed, just like all the other dungeon areas so far.

The bad news is, the lovely warp points on each floor (that also restored your health) in the past are all gone, aside from the first and last one. So yep, running a gauntlet here. Also each floor has a boss; sometimes one Dana's fought before, other times a souped-up version of one Adol and co has fought. And if you teleport out of the dungeon to restock your healing items before reaching that final checkpoint - because you WILL be burning through your healing items if you fight every monster in the place - you have to start all over again, and every monster will have respawned, including the bosses.

This dungeon is a stone bitch to do, is my point. It's actually much more difficult than when Dana had to go through it herself.

Shit, I thought, as I found out the hard way that the bosses don't stay dead. There better be something fucking amazing at the end of this.

It's not just that the monsters are high level: so is your party by this point. It's that they come in swarms, and sometimes drop on you suddenly. There's a few treasure chests that, when opened, cause a bunch of monsters to appear - that's not necessarily unexpected, but the sheer number of them was, at least to me.

Also, for the love of god and all that is holy, bring insect repellent. A LOT OF IT. Because wasp monsters have made a neighborhood on one of the floors, and they do NOT want you in it. You'll need that repellent to take out the hives immediately, or else you'll be dealing with a neverending swarm of monster wasps.

The hives also respawn if you leave the room and come back, by the way.

And did I mention one of the hives is on top of a series of blocks that you have to jump up to in order to proceed? So not only are you having to calculate the distance and move the camera around so you can see what you're doing, but you also have to dodge wasps so they don't knock you off the blocks. Oh, and make sure you choose an attack to deal with the wasps that doesn't also move your character too far or they'll fall off, and GOD FUCKING DAMN IT I HATED THAT FUCKING WASP ROOM SO GODDAMN MUCH SWEAR TO GOD IF I FALL DOWN JUST ONE MORE FUCKING TIME I'LL-

*cough* anyway. Yes. Sorry. What was I going on about? Oh, right. Is it worth all the trouble to get through this dungeon?

This is going to sound weird, but I'm still trying to make up my mind on that. I will say that there were some definite benefits to going down there. Since the bosses respawn, it's a relatively quick and reliable way to level up all your characters this late in the game. There's also a high chance to fish up an Angry Catch that drops a random stat boost item when defeated, and it's actually one of the least problematic monsters in there.

The dungeon's also full of excellent treasure, although if you're like me and get twitchy unless you find all of them, I recommend trying to get all of it in one go. Though, if you must make multiple visits, just run through the first couple of floors. I'm serious. Don't engage. The monsters won't pursue you past the boundaries of the room they're in, and you'll need the focus (and the healing items) for later floors where it's WAY more difficult to run straight through (Exhibit A: Murder Wasp Block Puzzle From Hell).

At the very end is a level 99 boss, if you like that sort of thing. It's very fast and a pain in the ass, but honestly, not nearly as bad as the stupid wasp swarm block ordeal. At least it's on a wide open, completely flat boss arena, so you can see what it's doing at all times. Even if what it's doing is usually "firing multiple lasers at you faster than you can react" and "magic bullshit that suddenly reduces you to one party member."

But there is a treasure chest beyond it, in front of the final monolith. So what's inside?

Three unique equippable items. I may have offhandedly mentioned it in another post (and I'll admit it, I'm too lazy/into writing this right now to pull them up and check), but your playable characters each deal a specific type of damage, which some monsters are weak to. With Adol and Dana it was Slash, with Laxia and Hummel it was Pierce, and with Sahad and Ricotta it was Strike. Each of the three medals corresponds to those types. And if I read the description correctly, you could, for example, equip Adol with the Pierce medal and his attacks would gain that type in addition to the Slash he already has.

It's an interesting concept, certainly not what I was expecting. I tried equipping Adol with one of the medals, then did one of the practice raids back in the village just to see what it felt like.

It's kind of a doubled-edged sword (no pun intended) from what I can tell. If a monster's weak to the type of attack you've got equipped, it takes damage from that plus whatever you would have done originally, so it's possible to really tear through some monsters, or monster crowds. Adol's got a special move that's basically just a quick, giant horizontal sweep: so with the Pierce medal on, he could mow down a cloud of bats or bugs (both weak to Pierce damage) in no time flat.

But if a monster's strong against whatever you've got equipped, it seems to actually reduce the damage you would have done without the medal. So...yay for situational use, I guess?

You also gain a new option through the save crystal in Castaway Village: you can reduce the maximum size of your party (or set it back to three, the default). I guess this is for people who like to challenge themselves, maybe do a solo character run. But I like having the other party members around, not only for monster crowd control, but because they can notice things like treasure chests and fishing spots before you do.

I also like the little encouraging ways they talk to each other when they encounter a monster that they know is weak to another character's attack style. "It's up to you, Sahad!" "All you, lil' lady!" "Your turn, Adol!" Things like that. I can definitely understand someone finding that extra dialogue annoying, and I guess by this point in the game you don't really need them to notice things anymore. But it just doesn't feel right to me to not have your friends alongside, who've come all this way with you. So I don't know that I'd be making much use of that new option.

But overall, even though I got very frustrated at some of the more difficult parts*, I'm glad the developers didn't forget about the underground temple, and put in the effort both to show how time had affected it and to make it an optional dungeon area with a unique reward. It would have been easy to just keep the door to it sealed, throw on some text that said 'welp, door's rusted shut, looks like it's not opening anytime soon, too bad' and called it a day. But they didn't, and I'd give them a thumbs up, except mine are still recovering from that room with roughly ten skillion pirate skeletons in it.

Seriously though, I never get tired of that cool feeling you get when you discover something in a game you thought you knew everything about. Even better when it's an entire dungeon, and better still when it's tough as hell but you conquered it anyway.

*re: the Wasp Part: I found out later that just spamming the insect repellent as needed while jumping from block to block to reach the hives made that part a lot easier. So while I still say it was frustrating, I think I was making that part way more difficult than necessary by being a combination of sleepy, stubborn, and stupid XD

[windfighter]

Finally got around to typing te story out. I got distracted by sleep because apparently that's a thing my body needs? Anyway story is inspired by this post by @hermitcraftheadcanons and some cobbled together fanons I've stumbled over while stalking the hermitcraft-tag

no beta we die like the villagers during Grian and Scar's sith-arc

Summary: Grian always hides his true self, both to protect himself from the memories and to protect others from the horrors of his past. But in the quiet of his mansion, in the empty rooms, he can let his disguise fall. No one will see him there, no one will find out, especially not with everyone busy with their projects.

But Scar's project is done. Almost. Maybe he could use the input of one of his friends to help him with the last details.

-------

Grian let his disguise fall as he entered the mansion. His perfect skin slowly faded, instead revealing skin covered by white and pink scars in all shapes and sizes. His left eye faded as well, leaving only void and darkness behind, and his right eye became grumbled, but it was a long time since he relied only on his eyes to see. The magic coursing through his veins gave him the ability to sense his surroundings. Not enough to see colors and textures but Pearl used to help him with that and now he was good enough on his own. His magic couldn't help his hearing, but at home he didn't need to hear the emptiness of the mansion and he took his hearing aids off and put them in a chest by the door. He pulled his hand through his hair, flinched as his fingers found one of his scars. He held the hand infront of his face, his one eye staring at the hazy shape it formed infront of him. Did it actually hurt or was it just the memories? He couldn't tell any longer.

His friends were all busy putting the finishing touches on their projects and Grian had planned to work on his own. His mansion was almost done and he wanted to get it completed, but he was so tired. The disguise didn't use a lot of magic, it was easy to maintain since he had worked hard on transferring the image to his subconscious and sometimes he'd even wake up in it, unaware of having summoned it. But he had kept it up for weeks now, while working in Aque, on the HCBBS, on the barge, and it was wearing him down. He stretched, scars across his joints protested and he curled up slightly again. His wings ached, hidden under his sweater where they wouldn't be visible. But everyone was busy working and maybe for once Grian could let all of himself out.

Grian's sweater fell to the floor and two wings flapped slowly behind Grian. He closed his eye, relaxed his shoulders for the first time in months. There were no windows in the mansion, no water where he could catch a hazy glance of his reflection. Nothing to remind him about the Before except the ache in his scars that would never quite heal no matter how many times he respawned. He yawned as a new wave of exhaustion swept over him.

”A bed, a bed. My kindgom for a bed.”

He stumbled more than walked through the empty halls. He didn't need any magic to navigate it, the hazy sight his eye provided was more than enough. There was no furniture, no pets, nothing he could stumble over as he made his way forward. His body ached with every step, the exhaustion making him unable to filter out the pain that was always present and he could usually ignore. He fell into the bed, greeted by Professor Beak. He rolled over to his side, fixed his eye on the parrot.

”We've been through a lot, haven't we?”

He closed his eye, prepared for sleep to pull him under. Professor Beak flew down, landed on the headboard of the bed. Grian's body shuddered as he took a shaky breath.

”It's better now though, isn't it? Taurtis?”

Professor Beak whistled an answer and Grian was pulled away from consiousness.

-

ScarX was done. Scar stood on top of his giant drill and looked at what he had achieved. Every detail he could think of had been added, no stone left unturned, there were Jellies everywhere. Still, something was missing. He scratched his head, carefully touched the scar on his cheek. Maybe Badtimes could help him figure the missing pieces out. But the Helshermits were just as busy as the hermits, everyone working hard to finish up whatever they were doing. Badtimes would probably just suggest fire anyway and that wouldn't be as helpful as Scar would have liked. Scar fiddled with the communicator in his pocket before deciding to send out a message to his fellow hermits.

GoodtimewithScar: ScarX is done but it feels like something's missing?

Etho: TNT

iskall85: TNT of doom

BdoubleO100: Definately TNT

Tango: Sounds like a job for the Boomers

GoodtimewithScar: We are not blowing up my base

MumboJumbo: Can we blow up mine? It's almost dead anyway

Xisuma: Alright, I think we all need a break.

iJevin: And some TNT

Xisuma: Let's all meet up at the moopop café for some relaxation and games. We've been working hard this past week.

Scar put the communicator away again. TNT was not missing from ScarX, but someone had been missing from the TNT-discussion. He frowned and turned in the direction of Grian's mansion. Grian would never miss a chance to blow something up. Maybe he should make sure all was fine and that Grian hadn't gotten stuck in obsessed build-mode again. And despite their differences in buildstyles, they still had similar ideas when it came to building so maybe Grian would be able to help him find the missing detail. He jumped off the drill, fired off a rocket and took to the sky.

-

Something woke Grian up. A tingling sensation in his neck. Something was coming? Or wrong? He blinked, tried to shake the exhaustion off himself. How long had he slept? Taurtis would wake him up if he slept for too long. He sat up, untangled his legs from the blanket and looked around. A shape was standing in the hallway, staring at him, and Grian's magic was sent into overdrive. His regular disguise started creeping over him, hiding his torn skin and destroyed eyes. Another flash of magic rushed towards the figure and smashed straight into Scar's magic. Grian got to his feet. Scar took a step closer. Could he joke it off? Force Scar to forget it? He clenched and unclenched his hands. His mouth was dry. Watcher magic was coursing through his veins, demanding to be used. He could ban Scar from the server, use his magic to override the code of the world, cause a permadeath. Scar was his friend but no, Watchers didn't have friends and no one could know about Grian's history. He didn't want questions, hugs, pats on the back and pitying looks. Scar took another step closer and Grian still didn't move. Taurtis lifted from the headboard. Professor Beak lifted from the headboard and Grian wanted to tell him to flee. Scar took another step, he was too close now, close enough that Grian didn't need to actively send his magic out to sense Scar. Scar's magic was pressing against Grian's, aggressive in a completely different way than the Watcher's magic was. More unhinged and feral and Grian had never felt it so strongly before. Wings sprouted on Scar's back, thin things that wouldn't be able to carry anyone if they didn't have magic as well. Scar's skin shifted, changed.

Scar was close enough that they could almost touch. Grian's breathing was quick. He needed to have done something five minutes ago and yet his body remained frozen. He wanted to blame the magic oozing from Scar – it was an unknown factor – but he knew there was another reason; he cared. He had allowed himself to relax, to let the perosn infront of him get close. Scar looked at him, his eyes empty and yet so focused. He held his palms towards Grian, as if approaching a scared animal. Grian took a step back, getting closer to cornering himself, but Scar didn't follow.

”You don't have to hide here, Grian.”

Scar's voice was heavy with barely held back magic. It vibrated through the air around them, through Grian's body, and his and Scar's magic worked in unison to get the words past his worsened hearing. Grian shivered. He didn't want to answer, knew he would be unable to keep his own magic at bay if he did.

”We all have our secrets”, Scar continued with a softer voice, ”and we might not understand yours, but we're here when you're ready to tell us.”

Grian couldn't breathe. Scar took a step back, his magic and shape retreatng, returning to normal, but Grian no longer knew what was normal about his friend. Grian got ready to dash past his friend, to send the whole mansion flying with Scar still in it because Scar was too close, Scar knew too much, and there was no way Grian could hide it all back, make it unseen, because watchermagic couldn't fiddle with time in that way. Scar took another step back, started looking through his inventory. Grian prepared to bolt, was just about to run when Scar pulled a piece of red fabric out of his inventory and offered it to Grian.

”Everyone's meeting at the moopop café, you should come. And then I can help you with the mansion and you can maybe take a look at ScarX?”

Grian's hand shook as he reached for the sweater in Scar's hands. He stared at Scar's face, fake black eyes locked onto fake green ones. He had questions, still considered escaping, once again hiding the truth. His fingers touched the fabric. It was more than a sweater at the moment and Grian knew, understood. It was a promise. A promise that Scar would be there, help him keep the secret as long as he needed it and support him through the troubles he had with it. By taking the sweater Grian would accept that, accept Scar's friendship in a deeper way than he had before. By taking the sweater Grian promised that one day he'd stop hiding, at least for Scar.

The scars on Grian's hand ached when he grabbed the sweater, his wings ached as he pulled it over his head and squished them against his back. His body felt drained but he smiled towards Scar.

”Sounds fun. Should I bring the TNT?”

Scar laughed and Grian knew he had made the right choice.

[onechicago-upsteadrhekker]

Oh my gosh, you guys! First of all, I am so sorry @cpdfan231 that it has taken me so freakin’ long to finish your request (I’m still working on the other one) but I finally finished it and I hope that you enjoy it and that it was worth the wait! 

Also, I’m hesitant to say this because I’m terrible at actually posting/finishing fanfics when I say that I’m going to but apparently I can’t learn but I’m hoping that I will be able to post a prompt fic every Wednesday until the show starts...and possibly after that too. And for those of you asking about Dancing in the Minefields I’m gonna do everything I can in my power to finish it relatively soon!

Thank you all so much for the continued support and please enjoy!

@cpdfan231 requested #26 “can you two please get a room?”

you’re already mine

Hailey rolled her eyes, her arms tightly crossed under her breasts, “You know the drill. You either work for me or I file the those possession charges,” She narrowed her eyes, glaring harder to let Tyler know she meant business.

He fidgeted, scowling. Hailey shifted, her patience running thin, “So what’s it gonna be? You got ten seconds to let me know.”

Tyler threw his hands up, “Alright, alright.”

Hailey relaxed marginally, watching as her CI paced around his run-down house in aggravation before he stopped and looked at her in disdain, “I help you and I’m done, alright? You’ve had cops pounding on my door for the past six months and I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me so I’m done working for the police.”

She pressed her lips together, silently sizing him up. Tyler’s been one of the most ornery, hard-headed CI’s she’s ever had and he’d been a pain in her ass ever since she’d popped him with coke back in the summer. 

And truthfully, he had worked off the drug charge a couple months back but it had been like pulling teeth to get any information out of him and while the information had been useful, she wasn’t about to let him get off easily with that kind of attitude so she hadn’t said anything. 

Besides, as much as she’d fought with him, he did provide good info; Tyler was seemingly plugged in everywhere so she’d decided to keep him working for a little while longer but now she was more than ready to let him off the hook. She was way too tired of dealing with him.

“Okay,” She gave a short nod, “This one more thing but you gotta cooperate and you gotta give me everything.” Hailey leveled him with another glare to show him how serious she was, “This isn’t like those other things I had you do. You’re going to be working with my team, working for Intelligence and you’re going to have to wear a wire and you’re going to have to do exactly what I say. No funny business and then you never have to see me again, alright?”

Tyler gave her a smirk, “Well, I wouldn’t mind seeing you again just so long as it’s not in a police capacity.”

Hailey resisted punching him in the face. That was another thing; he endlessly flirted with her and it was most definitely unwelcome. Tyler was a selfish dead beat who hung out with criminals in Canaryville and that was the only reason why she made him a CI instead of charging him. And it was pure-luck that she caught him with possession in the first place; she wasn’t even supposed to be on duty when she’d snatched him up and she wasn’t about to waste an in with a no-snitch neighborhood.

Although there were times she seriously regretted it.

Hailey blew out a breath, spinning around to stomp out the door, throwing directions over her shoulder, “Be at the 21st district in an hour and be discrete about getting there.” Then slamming the door shut. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Here’s your wire. We’ll be right outside, listening,” Hailey handed Tyler the piece of equipment for him to attach to his shirt. She glanced at him, “Make sure it’s hidden.”

Jay looked up from the tablet he was holding, “Usually we would have someone under to shadow you but it’s Canaryville and anyone we placed would stick out like a sore thumb so, you’re on your on to a point. Be careful about getting the information, don’t push too hard.”

“Talk for me,” Hailey messed with something on the computer she had on her lap. Tyler shot her a look that clearly said he wanted to be anywhere but here, “I am talking. I’ll get your information and then I’m done.”

Hailey shared a subtle look with Jay, sighing in annoyance, “Yes, Tyler.”

She closed the laptop and she and Jay gathered the stuff they needed. Jay motioned for Tyler to get up, “Alright, we’re set. We’ll drop you off at the diner.”

Jay grabbed the box of technology from her, slightly brushing up against her and giving her a small smile which helped ease the tension she felt in her shoulders. She restrained herself from wanting to peck him on the cheek because she knew Tyler was right behind them.

Jay headed out the door towards the parking lot and Hailey waited for Tyler to start moving as she brought up the rear, “I didn’t know you needed any help carrying boxes ‘cause I would’ve gladly helped you out. I can be chivalrous if that’s what you want.” Tyler threw smirk over his shoulder and in response Hailey gave him a not-so-light shove.

God, if she could only get through this one thing she’d be rid of him and his stupid, useless flirting.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

“He’s a real charmer,” Jay shook his head in disbelief.

Hailey glanced at him, mumbling, “Yeah, tell me about it.”

They had just spent the last ten minutes listening to Tyler flirt with a couple of girls who flirted back and then proceeded to meet up with his buddies where they took bets on which girl they thought would be better in bed. They then took it a step further by daring each other to get one of the girls in their bed before the week was out to prove the previous bet.

He was finally getting to the actual reason of why he was in that particular diner with that particular group of friends for which Hailey was immensely grateful for because she had been about ready to go in there and kick his ass if she’d had to listen to anymore of that crap.

“It’s safe to say I will be more than happy to let Tyler off the hook once all this is over. He has been so difficult and it doesn’t help that he flirts with me every opportunity he gets,” Hailey sighed, rubbing a hand over her face.

Jay pulled a face, “And just for that I don’t like him.”

Hailey had to let out a little smile, “What? You jealous?”

He grimaced even more when he saw Hailey chuckling quietly to herself, “I don’t like creepy guys who have a criminal background flirting with my wife.” 

He shot her another look, “Sue me.”

She wasn’t even trying to hide her snickers anymore and Jay scrunched his face up at her, grabbing the binoculars she held in her hands while pointing a finger at her, “Or any guy for that matter.”

Hailey quickly leaned over to drop a kiss to the corner of his mouth, “You’re lucky I love you.”

The air changed around them into a charged warmth. Jay looked at her with a soft intensity, “Yeah, yeah I am.”

The moment was broken by Tyler’s voice filtering through the van, asking some very pointed questions about the money heists Intelligence was chasing. Their eyes widened as they shared an alarmed glance. 

Hailey felt like banging her head against the side of the van, “What is he doing? That is the very opposite of subtle.”

Jay rubbed a stressed hand over his face, “What happened to ‘don’t push too hard’? He’s going to get himself made or us. We need to pull him.”

Hailey shot Jay an aggravated glance, “We can’t. He refused an earpiece, remember?” She motioned towards the diner they were parked outside of, “Unless one of us goes in there and somehow says the safe word without getting made and Tyler actually listens.”

Jay was already shaking his head, “No, it’s too dangerous. We let it play out unless the situation starts to flip and then we go in.”

The next few minuets passed in an anxious silence as they listened to the information Tyler was getting by doing everything they had told him not to do but there hadn’t been any cause for them to rush in guns blazing yet, so they were resigned to waiting.

It took a few more minuets of waiting until finally, Tyler was strutting out of the diner with an over-confident smirk. Hailey and Jay watched as he jogged across the street to the waiting van.

Jay swung the sliding door open and Tyler was greeted with matching looks of annoyance and condemnation, “What the hell, man? That was not what we talked about.”

“I got your info, didn’t I?” 

Hailey refrained herself from wiping that cocky look off his face. She turned towards Jay, having a brief conversation with their eyes before grabbing the laptop to put in notes. She felt Jay lay a soothing hand on her knee as he leaned past her to grab the other laptop and she could smell the comforting smell of his cologne mixed with their laundry detergent.

“Oh my god,” Tyler suddenly complained, rolling his eyes, “Can you two please get a room?”

She and Jay turned towards him with startled looks. Tyler rolled his eyes again, “Oh come on, you guys have been giving each other heart eyes ever since we left. The sexual tension or chemistry or whatever is so obvious and don’t think I haven’t noticed those little touches you’ve been giving each other.”

All Hailey could do was blink and Jay had the same expression of bewilderment on his face as they stared at Tyler, taken aback by his somewhat inappropriate statement.

Tyler sighed dramatically at the stunned silence before giving Jay a look, “Look man, if you don’t want to do anything about it, then step aside because I would gladly get a room with her instead.”

Jay’s face morphed into a possessive, angered look and Hailey barely had time to sling an arm across his chest so he wouldn’t pounce on Tyler. The guy may have deserved whatever Jay was about to do but Hailey didn’t want him to get in any potential hot water—it just wasn’t worth it.

“I would back off if I were you,” It was a deep growl, and normally Hailey would be somewhat put out that Jay was speaking for her but she had to admit that he was pretty sexy when he defended her like that. His jaw firmly set and warning in his eyes.

“Why?” Tyler asked lazily, “You two dating or something?”

Jay’s eyes narrowed and she could feel him straining against the arm she still had slung across his chest. Hailey sent him a warning look.

His eyes locked onto hers in an intense silent battle for a few long seconds till she felt Jay relent, his body relaxing slightly and Hailey knew she had won this round. She cautiously lowered her arm, her eyes still trained on Jay’s to tell him she was serious about him not beating up Tyler.

Hailey glanced back at Tyler who had been watching this whole exchange like one would watch a soap opera. 

Jay busied himself with packing up the few pieces of equipment that was floating around in the back of the van and she could feel the huffiness coming off of him in waves as he calmed himself down.

She was watching Jay warily as he slid the box holding their tech underneath the table attached to the van wall before looking up to meet Tyler’s stare.

“No, actually, we aren’t dating,” He snapped grouchily, “We’re married, so I would appreciate it if you would stop eyeing my wife like a piece of meat and cut out the terrible flirting before I really lose it and knock you into next week. Okay? Thanks.”

And with that, Jay got up, stomped to the front to slide into the driver’s seat. He then started the van and pulled out of their spot.

Hailey didn’t really know what to say, torn between wanting to laugh at Tyler’s shocked expression or scowl at Jay for his obvious display of displeasure.

She was saved from having to come up with something to say because Tyler finally picked up his hanging jaw to squeak out, “You’re married!?”

Hailey sucked in her bottom lip before releasing it, affirming his startled exclamation with an exasperated “yep”, popping the ‘p’. She turned in her chair, leaving her CI in state of shock behind her.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Tyler’s wounded but still somewhat shocked voice piped up.

Hailey rolled her eyes both amused and annoyed at how Tyler was responding at the information Jay had given him, “Nope.”

She barely discussed her personal life with people she knew so she certainly wasn’t going to share it with a CI. Her marriage to Jay didn’t concern Tyler; he wasn’t worth being let in on the thing she treasured most.

****************

They dropped Tyler off a few blocks from his house, his eyes still wide as Hailey bid him farewell for the last time supposing he didn’t get into any more trouble.

Jay had glared at him until he was out of sight and Hailey shook her head, rolling her eyes at Jay’s expression. She didn’t say anything even though she thought his sulky behavior was a little much.

They drove back to the district in silence; Hailey sitting in the floor in the back packing up surveillance equipment as Jay stewed in the driver’s seat. He pulled into the large garage that was attached to the 21st district, parking the van with the other undercover vehicles.

Hailey unscrewed the last camera lens to put it’s case when Jay slid open the van door. She looked up, watching as Jay glanced around the garage as if he was making sure there was no one around and she noticed he had a determined glint in his eyes.

“Jay?” She questioned as he popped his head back into the back of the van, holding out his hand obviously waiting for her to take it.  

He wiggled his fingers, “Come on. Hurry!” 

Hailey gave him a puzzled look but scooted out of the van anyways, allowing to him to grab her hand, “What are you doing Jay? What’s going on?”

He didn’t answer her, instead he stole across the garage floor, tugging Hailey along behind him. She thought they were headed for the door that led back into the district but Jay bypassed it, heading down the short hallway that held supply closets.

“What the hell, Jay?” He just gave her a self-satisfied smirk as he did one last glance around before opening the door to one of the supply closets and nudging her inside.

To say she was confused would be an understatement.

Hailey turned around to see Jay shutting the door behind him, locking it. He approached her and this time the look in his eye was one she instantly recognized.

Her eyes widened, disbelief playing across her face, “Jay Halstead! What do you think you’re doing?”

At this point, Jay was so close to her, she could feel the evidence of where his head was at. He reached down to nuzzle her ear, “I’m getting that room Tyler suggested we get.”

Hailey tried to resist but with him so close and his scent intoxicating her, it was hard not to cave into the kisses he was giving her neck.

“Jay,” She hissed. Well, it came out as more of a moan but that didn’t stop her from trying to bat his hands away from where they were sliding up her shirt, “We’re at work!”

Jay lifted his head, coming to kiss her at the corner of her lips, “That’s never stopped us before.”

She wanted to glare at him but she was starting to lose control of herself, her hands roaming up and down Jay’s broad back. 

And it was true. 

Being at work had never stopped them before no matter how much she tried to protest these little escapades so she figured once more probably wouldn’t hurt them.

Well, what did you think? I tried to write Hailey’s CI kind of like Adam’s CI in that one one episode so I guess that’s where I got my inspiration from. I hope you liked it and maybe it made you laugh. Love you all!

[rwby-nwbe]

Just Finished RWBY Volume 4...

...and I actually liked it?

[Spoilers Ahead, Y'all Know The Drill]

I mean, from what I've heard the Volume gets a lot of flack but honestly? I don't think it deserves it.

Yes, this is the first volume without Monty, and yes, the fights lost a bit of their momentum compared to earlier volumes, but aside from that... it's actually pretty good?

Alright, let me give you the play by play character style.

Ruby Rose

There goes my baby... off to destroy evil.

Ruby hasn't changed much, at least to a noticeable degree, compared to the rest of the cast. Actually, no, that isn't true, she just hasn't changed in a way that would force her overall character to noticeably shift. And I think that's fine. She's still a child at times, and is still really optimistic. But the thing is, she has matured. She doesn't immediately jump head first into danger like she used to, and it's clear she's still trying to process what happened at the Fall of Beacon. And yet, she's pressing on, and I'm glad that she and the rest of Team RNJR have each other's backs.

My only concern is what will go down in Mistral...

Weiss Schnee

Welp, Jacques Schnee, congrats! You've joined Cinder and Adam on the hit list I'm writing up!

The a-hole aside, I really like how Weiss played out this volume. According to what I've heard, volume 4 took place about 6-8 months after Beacon, so I'm kinda sad that Weiss was stuck home for all that time. On the bright side, we get a look at her progress on her summons, which looks to be coming along quite nicely. Then we see the concert, and ooh does that make my blood boil. I'll get to Jacques in a bit, but personally, I'd have no qualms watching him burn, figuratively, or literally.

Fly, Weiss, fly from the coup. Give your bastard of a father the metaphorical middle finger he deserves! (P.S. Klein is best dad.)

Blake Belladonna

Oof. I hurteth.

So Blake tends to stay away out of fear that she'll hurt her friends (i.e. some alternate version of survivor's guilt). In order to make amends from her point of view, she heads home to Menagerie. And once again, we're reminded on why humanity sucks sometimes!

Humans: Here, have this desert island for your large spanning species that covers just as much ground as we do.

Faunus: But... but it's so small!

Humans: Is it? Oh well, we can't have everything!

Me: Y'all LITERALLY have several freaKING CONTINENTS-!

*Ahem* That said, Sun came along! And we met Blake's parents! But first, Sun; I'll admit, I had mixed feelings about him being there at first, but that was mostly because Blake was being angsty and despite Sun's best intentions, virtually nothing he did help. Although, towards the end of the Volume, he managed to help Blake realize why her way of thinking was wrong, so props to him for that. Uh, Sun, could you maybe knock like a normal person? Wait, Blake, DON'T SLAP HIM FOR IT!!!

Ah, Kali, you're just as chaotic as Sun, oh dear... Ghira, never change, man. Never change.

Yang Xiao Long

Oof. I hurteth again. (ADAM!! LET ME DESTROY YOU, DANGIT!!!)

So Yang has been... adjusting to life after Beacon and without an arm. Oh, and Adam gave her PTSD! Isn't that just swell?

[When the find your corpse it'll have Wilt running through your spine and your skull severed with bullet shots from Blush I swear-]

Luckily, Yang gets a prosthetic from Atlas. I was afraid she'd reject it, but it's actually kinda nice to see that she takes to it rather well. And after seeing Oobleck (YAY!) and Port again, it's cool that she's just trying to find her footing. Though, Tai, you might wanna consider NOT flying to close to the Sun Dragon, capiche?

And all this culminates in Yang finally getting back out in the end of the Volume, hoping to find some answers. Hopefully she takes Tai's words to heart.

Jaune Arc

IT'S BIG BOI SWORD HOURS!!

But seriously, it was... kinda off-putting to see Jaune act so... morose. Granted, we all know why (PYRRHA!!!), but still. I'm glad his team is looking out for him and that he's slowly starting to recover like everyone else. His conversation with Ruby in Kuroyuri was also really touching. Come to think of it, didn't Blake have a similar conversation with Sun? The PARALLELS!

Also, that upgrade, tho. CUT THAT NUCKELAVEE INTO DUST, MY DUDE!!!

Nora Valkyrie+Lie Ren

You can't talk about one without bringing up the other.

Guys, this was as much a Renora volume as it was a RWBY-Post Beacon volume. The Fall triggers some odd behavior in Ren, but we figure out why pretty quickly once we reach the Kuroyuri episode.

First, young Ren and Nora... adorable!

Second, I was NOT ready for when Nora had to talk Ren out of charging blindly at the Nuckelavee. The slap. The way Ren sees young Nora and then sees current Nora. Nothing could prepare me. Nothing.

They are so SOFT together, it's just... <3

New Characters (and Old ones, too)

Lightning round, baby!

Qrow Branwen. So Qrow serves as the inside man. He knows what's been going on, and he fills the rest of us in. We also know why he tends to keep his distance, because his semblance brings bad luck to allies and enemies alike. The poor birb. Glad he managed to survive Tyrian!

Jacques Schnee. Egotistical manipulative piece of garbage whom I will not feel sorry for once he's put in his place. 'Nuff said.

Whitley Schnee. Mixed feelings. Mixed feelings everywhere. 'Cause on one hand, I've seen plenty of the fandom's takes on his character putting him in a positive light, but on the other he starts getting kind of unbearable after Weiss loses her title as heiress. Then I have to remind myself that Whitley is the "Fawn" reaction to trauma. Weiss is "Fight," Winter is "Flight," their mother is "Freeze," and Whitley is "Fawn." Stuff like that helps me contextualize that when Whitley says things about their dad like "It's foolish to not do what father asks," or "It's barbaric. It's beneath me. Beneath father," Whitley's not just saying that 'cause he's a bit of a brat. That's his coping mechanism to the abuse Jacques put him and the rest of his family through, and it's probably been a long time that he's been telling himself stuff like this so he can keep in his father's good graces and not risk getting a slap to the face like Weiss, while also trying to deal with the fact that Weiss and Winter get a freedom that he never had a chance to get. And you have to remember that Winter and Weiss were abused to, and that trying to blame Whitley's current condition on the two of them doesn't make things any better. They're not obligated to care about Whitley just as much as Whitley isn't obligated to care about them. It would be nice if either one of them could get through to him, but they were all trying to combat Jacques in one way or another. Whitley was just the odd one out. And if you really think about it, the biggest brain play you can take from all this is to blame it solely on Jacques. I swear, when I get to Volume 4 in my NWBE AU, one of my top priorities will be getting Whitley the ever loving hell out of that accursed mansion alongside Weiss, mark my words.

Klein Sieben. Ladies and gentleman, the only valid man under the Schnee roof! And a Seven Dwarves reference no less. Thanks, I love him! Glad he helped Weiss escape his father's clutches.

James Ironwood. Oh boy, boss man is starting to lose his grip on things. Granted, he's trying to do the right thing, but it's clear his paranoia is getting to him. You know crap is getting bad if the most valid person in all of Atlas simultaneously needs to be told to get a grip from Jacques of all people (especially if he's making a point). Hope this doesn't trigger a downward spiral...

Ghira and Kali Belladonna. Ghira is done and Kali just wants to have fun. I love their dynamic and interactions with Blake and Sun! It was a nice wind down from everything else going on, though I don't think that'll last for long.

White Fang. So we got three more WF members: Fennec, Corsac, and Ilia. The Albain brothers are sleezeballs already, since they're working with Adam and all. Ilia's working with them too, but I'll have to withhold my judgement since she appears to have an as yet undisclosed connection to Blake, but I don't want to get my hopes up since she already stabbed Sun, so... Low expectations, but still expectations.

Salem's Group. Yup, Salem's a villain alright. I'll be keeping my eye on her, she just reeks of trouble. Cinder apparently lost her voice... eh, probably for the best. Emerald, Mercury, get the ever-loving FRICK outta there, you're clearly out of your element! Hazel, you're... fascinating. Neutral Evil, perhaps? Watts, you're on my radar, especially with the last episode of the Volume. And Tyrian... well, he's clearly beyond the point of no return, entirely devoted to Salem, and his psycho-sadistic tendencies are enough to freak Cinder of all people out. Needless to say, I hope something or someone takes care of him before the damage becomes irreversible.

And for now, I'll wrap this up with Oscar Pine. I'll admit, it was interesting how they set up Oscar's character as a slow burn this Volume. We learn he lives a quiet life with his aunt in a barn, and at first we're wondering "Who the heck is this kid?" But then Ozpin shows up and suddenly everything is like "Oh... wait, WHAT!?" So yeah, Ozpin just brought another child into thia conflict. At least they're both not happy about it, and hey, they met Qrow! Hopefully that keeps things from getting too crazy down the line. We still need answers, after all.

Well, those are my thoughts. Sorry they took so long. Hopefully Volume 5 won't be so hard to complete. Well... cheers!

-Mathewton, the RWBY Newbie (15 May 2020)

[selfships-in-spanish]

–A fleeting encounter

I’m posting the Vampire!Hank ask as a new post because for the love of everything, Tumblr doesn’t let me take out the read more out of the ask’s header. It’s glued to the ask bubble and there’s no way to get it out... Ugh, this hellish site.

Here’s the original ask:

Your AU’s keep me alive ❤️ however, the Vampire AU is currently my new drug. Vampire Hank is such a weakness! I love imagining Ona meeting Vampire!Hank for the first time and she’s both seduced but also cautious of him 👀 imagining Hank giving a deep menacing chuckle at how this little human amuses him 🥴

BUT AHHHH THANK YOU ANON!!! I’m sorry for having so many AUs but I just enjoy all the ideas you guys come up with, and I absolutely love creating content for them!! Vampire!AU is something I want to delve more into, because it’s dark, it’s dangerous and we all love our damn vampires, don’t we all.

I’ll get over my phobia of blood for you guys, I got you all (seriously, I see blood and/or needles I go down to the floor. And I’m diabetic. FUN! )

But… Au within an Au? Ona is still a cop? Hank & the boys are a vamp family and Mr.Anderson is out having a nice hunt evening? 

AUception it is. 

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

She’s tiny. 

That’s not hard to be when he’s a giant mass compared to anyone, strong and robust, but the difference is still funny. 

She has a lovely voice and he wonders if her blood will taste sweet too. 

Hank observes the situation in a table near his barstool: her tight smile and bored eyes, her way of picking the food on her plate and how the almost empty wine glass was more interesting than the conversation and man in front of her. The man probably thought he was doing a fantastic job and would get laid tonight, but the girl’s face told another story. 

What a pity that courting and wooing was out of fashion; it was always nice to be and feel appreciated. 

The girl looked around the restaurant, not being able to bear another look at the guy. They crossed looks, and from Hank’s magnetic gaze, she was unable to look away. Hank smirked, pleased he had her attention now. He made sure to look intently at her as he took a sip of his drink, appealing to her curiosity. He winked. 

Hank’s smirk widened when her cheeks reddened, quickly looking away and getting herself busy with her own drink, looking everywhere but him. 

The pretty human tried to keep on with the conversation, tried to concentrate on the man in front of her rather than the mysterious silver fox, and it amused Hank to no end. He was a patient man, and he knew he would taste her eventually. It made the wait worthwhile. 

Her date stood up, excusing himself to go to the bathroom. The girl nodded and sighed once the man was out of sight and hearing range. The waiter came immediately after she finished her glass of wine, leaving another one and a small folded note. She frowned. 

“From the gentleman over there.”

The girl looked over where the waiter pointed, eyes widening when she saw who this gentleman was. Hank chuckled to himself, raising his own glass in acknowledgement and waiting for her to reciprocate the far away toast. She did, holding his intense gaze the entire time with a slight blush on her cheeks.

Now that he had her attention, it was only a matter of time and patience. 

Hank was a patient man.

She looked away, shyly, when she put down her own glass, wiping her mouth delicately with her napkin. When she glanced over the mysterious gentleman again, he pointed to her table, that smirk still painted over his lips. Ona looked down, noticing for the first time the folded note that the waiter delivered with her glass of wine. Ona opened it, finding a handwritten note in a beautiful cursive hand. 

“It looks like you need to break free from that cage, little bird. In case you want a more refreshing conversation, I’m having a smoke outside. H.”

There was also a number at the bottom of it. Huh. Silver fox was going strong. 

Ona’s date was back and she hastily hid the note in her purse. The man grinned at her and she smiled back, trying so hard to keep up the façade. She felt bad for even considering going outside when she already was with someone, but the guy clearly was after a very certain and particular thing she was not going to give him, and this was becoming a huge, disastrous mess. 

“Sorry sweet cheeks, Mother Nature called. Anyways, as I was saying…”

Ona tuned out, fearing her brain would rot if she listened to the guy mansplaining once again how to do her job. Going out for a dinner date with a fellow detective, even if he was from another precinct, had been another terrible idea. Why on earth did she say yes? Oh yes, Tina. Tina bet her, and Ona never stepped down from a bet in a display of a true stubborn spaniard as she was. It was practically in her veins. 

Mr.I’m-the best-at-my-job kept going on, not even leaving her room to say her own thoughts about the matter. He kept drilling on, laughing at his own jokes while Ona merely smiled to keep the appearances. Gods, what a self-centred asshole. An involuntary sigh escaped her lips. Mr. My-teeth-are-whiter-than-snow frowned, shutting up. 

“Sorry, am I boring you?” He didn’t sound sorry at all, more annoyed than anything.

“No, sorry. Just a little dizzy.”

“Huh. Well, like I was saying—“

“Actually, do you mind if I go outside for a minute? Some fresh air may help.”

Before Detective Asshole could say anything else, Ona stood up, grabbing her jacket from the chair and walking to the front door of the restaurant. 

Nightly cold air greeted her, making her  sigh pleasantly this time. She was actually starting to feel a throbbing inside her head. If that guy called her sweet cheeks again or said “as I was saying”, Ona would make him choke on his food, make that juicy olive in his cocktail get stuck in his throat and make it look like an accident. Ona let a smile grace her lips, enjoying the scene in her head. 

“I thought you would never come.”

“OH JESUS FUCKING CHRIST—“ Ona jumped, startled when a deep, purring voice spoke next to her. Her heart was threatening to beat out of her chest. She placed a hand over it, trying to will her heart  to a more even pace. The voice chuckled. 

“Such blasphemous curses.”

“If you are a believer.” Ona looked at the owner of the voice, brows rising when she saw the mysterious silver fox. 

True to his word, he was outside with a lit cigarette between his lips. Now that she was closer, Ona could see how full the beard was, but also well kept. The man smelled of expensive cologne, and judging by his clothes, he did have the money. Neat and clean haircut, spotless coat, leather gloves and blue eyes twinkling with amusement, although Ona could see a glint of something behind it. It made her uneasy but also curious. 

“Out of the cage, then, little bird?” 

“I needed fresh air indeed,” Ona crossed her arms. “But didn’t you promise a refreshing conversation?” Curiosity won. 

The gentleman looked inside the restaurant where her date was. 

“That bad?” He said, nodding in her date’s direction and brows raised. 

“That bad.” Ona let herself snort. 

The man stepped closer, holding his hand out. 

“I’m Hank.”

Ona took it, squeezing it with enough force to let the man know she was not easily swayed. She wasn’t a Detective for nothing. She also had a mean punch. Hank looked pleased at her grip.

“Ona.” Hank’s hands were big. He was big. And she noticed right that instant how tiny she was compared to him.

“Nice to meet you, Ona.” She tried not to squeak like a tiny mouse. 

“So, what brought you to the enlightening company of Mr. Boring Date over there?” His voice was like velvet and Ona felt it brush her ears like a soft caress. 

“A bet.” 

“A bet?” Hank’s amused chuckle made her pout. “I hope you win it, then. Considering…” Hank nodded towards her date’s direction.

“Yeah, gonna get some cash. And favours.” Ona joined his chuckle in the end, thinking about Tina’s smug face when Gavin discovers that no, Mr.Suit-&-Tie didn’t manage to get inside Ona’s pants. She could already see her new shiny toaster on her kitchen’s counter. “So, what’s a man like you doing in a place like this, all alone?”

“I’m not alone right now, am I?” Hank winked. Ona raised her brow.

“Is this how you pick up potential dates?” 

“Are you considering yourself a potential date, then? I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea.”

“Wha–wait no, wait!” Ona could feel her cheeks getting hotter. She was a grown up woman and would absolutely not blush. No sir. “I didn’t say anything about a being a potential date!”

“You asked me if this is how I pick up potential dates.” Hank’s amused voice wasn’t helping her at all. 

“I’m not– ugh! Don’t turn my words against me!” 

“I’m so sorry, darling, you just made it so easy and I really couldn’t resist.” He stepped closer. He took out a pack of cigarettes, offering one to Ona. She shook her head.

“No, thank you. I don’t smoke.”

“Smart lady. Don’t fall into that. And it comes from someone who smokes like a chimney.”

“Then you should quit smoking. A man your age…” Ona teased him with a smirk of her own. 

Hank snorted. If she really knew his age… but that’s a secret for later. He was only here to scout, to see what both Connor and Richard meant by a very strong-willed and capable Police Detective catching their attention, but if he got a taste… he wouldn’t complain one bit. Connor and Richard once got a whiff of her blood when their paths crossed in one of her police investigations, getting hurt while having to run after a suspect. Needless to say she did apprehend the suspect despite the cut on her leg. The fire in her eyes drew them in. 

But, that didn’t mean he couldn’t play a little with this cute, tiny human. Hank was not stupid, she was pretty, and that’s something he absolutely read in Connor and Richard’s faces and attitude. When they found someone pretty and capable, they put their entire attention on them. She was a lucky lady. 

“I’m going to make a proposition to you, Ona.” Hank blew the smoke upwards, mindful of not letting it hit her. Ona was silently grateful for that.

“An indecent one?” Ona chuckled, crossing her arms over her chest and tilting her head slightly to the side, curious.

“Ah, only if you want it to be, darling.” Hank purred out the pet name. Ona didn’t know she could blush even more. 

“I-I—“

“You make teasing you so easy,” Hank stepped even closer, just tiptoeing on Ona’s personal space. She could smell the expensive cologne, but could feel no warmth radiating off him. Strange. “But that wasn’t what I was going to proposition to you. What about you give me one night?” One night with me, and then you can judge if I am that old.”

Ona felt her heart beat faster. Her mouth felt dry all of the sudden. 

“Well?”

“I barely know you.” But she felt curious. And daring. 

Hank raised his eyebrows, chuckling. She was a stubborn one. Connor will have fun with her. 

“Well, what a better chance to know each other than to have a nice dinner together and drinks after?”

Hank made sense, in a way. He was the one interested in meeting her, but she wouldn’t admit out loud she wanted to know more about this mysterious man. Puzzles such as this were a thrill for her, she didn’t become a detective for the paperwork, but for the adrenaline rushing through her veins when faced with a dangerous case, a bloody trail begging to be solved, the satisfaction of seeing behind bars those who thought they could best the law, best her. 

This man was a mystery begging to be solved, too. 

“You know what? Give me your phone.”

Hank’s smile was radiant and just a touch from being predatory, pleased she accepted. He handed his phone to her, watching in satisfaction as she typed her phone number there. 

He couldn’t wait to rub that fact on the younger vampire’s faces. While Richard kept pinning like the romantic dumbass he was, and Connor made excuses to bump into her investigations just to catch a glimpse and a whiff of her scent, Hank managed to get a date. How wonderful their enraged faces are going to be. Thank God he was an older and stronger vampire, more experienced too, or they would have torn him into shreds. 

“I can’t believe I’ve done this, but… there you go. Call me.” Ona handed the phone back, which Hank took with a sparkling smile, showing perfect teeth with a little gap between the front ones that Ona found endearing.  

“Of course I will, darling. Better when your romeo isn’t there wondering why his tricks ain’t working, huh?”

“Oh my god, I forgot about him!” Ona gasped, horrified at herself. Hank barked out a laugh, whole body shaking with it. Ona glanced at the restaurant’s window and then back to Hank. “I-I have to go. Like, right now. Shit.”

Hank took her hand and kissed the back of it. Ona was taken aback from the act and felt her cheeks redden. 

“Go, or I’ll keep you here longer.”

Ona let out an undignified noise while Hank chuckled, taking her hand back and choking out a “bye” as she turned around and got inside again. In her shock she didn’t notice the frozen cold touch of his lips against her skin. 

Hank stomped out the butt of the cigarette, taking out his phone and going through the contact’s list. His eyes twinkled in amusement. 

“Ona 🌊”

Hank walked back to his car, whistling a random tune with a spring in his steps. It was a pretty name, very fitting also. 

Connor and Richard were indeed not pleased that Hank passed his hand over their faces. He dangled the phone in his hand, knowing how the brothers wanted to throw his phone to the fire and stomp on its ashes. 

“Don’t you dare taste her first, Hank.” Connor’s lips were pressed into a tight line. 

“I wouldn’t even think about it, knowing how much you want her.” He did want to taste her blood, but he wasn’t that evil towards the brothers. 

“You will regret it if you do.” Richard’s icy stare would have sent shivers down his spine if he knew he couldn’t fight him and win. 

Hank groaned, tired of the silly possessiveness they felt towards the human. He went to the mini bar and poured himself a drink. 

“I won’t drink her blood, for now, but if you don’t move your goddamn asses, I will be drinking something else.”

Hank felt the poisoned daggers the brothers were stabbing him with their eyes. They were enamored by that tiny human, and couldn’t think straight when her blood was present.

“If you don’t want me to do neither, do something yourselves.”

Connor and Richard stood up, lips curved into a snarl and their fists tight. They disappeared into their own rooms, probably to sulk. Hank sighed, shaking his head.

He had a dinner date to plan. 

[ceruleanchillin]

Sandalwood (Bakugou x Reader)

A/N: I haven’t gotten super far into MHA, so I’m still learning the characters. I’m also reading the manga. I haven’t officially seen Dabi or Toga’s characters yet, so I’m going off what I’ve read in other fics and a little careful wiki browsing.

I also posted a chapter breaking down the AU on AO3, I’ll probably post it here later.

AO3

The water ran so hot, it began to fog up the small room and disperse the smell of sandalwood throughout it. You eagerly grabbed your loofah, and began scrubbing yourself sudsy. Every pass at your skin, and you felt your humanity being restored. Over your neck, down your arms, across your ribs, everywhere you touched turned to a patch of saccharine velvet.

You hummed, something more akin to a moan actually, and did another full pass just to feel the scalding warmth again. Eyes closed, and toes curled in your shower slippers, your relaxed mind pondered if you had enough time to really style your hair. Afterall, what girl didn’t enjoy a comforting bath ritual?

“Now serving number 1!”

Of course, other’s pampered bathing rituals probably didn’t take place in a supermarket bathroom near dawn.

The bakery section’s automated ticket taker had cut through your hazy thoughts like a knife, and you nearly dropped your loofah. If they were already beginning to receive more customers you didn’t have the bathroom to yourself much longer.

You scrambled to cleanse yourself of all suds, and drained the sink, hoping that would begin to reverse the fogginess.

Shoving all your toiletries into your oversized hobo bag, you ducked into a stall, and began to shove yourself into freshly washed

clothing.

God bless 24/7 laundry mats. Great for junk food dinners, plastic chair naps, and soft, detergent scented kisses with Bakugou at 4 am.

You were pretty sure your sweatshirt was on backwards, and your hair was still sloppily piled on top of your head, waiting to be deconstructed, but you didn’t care to fix either. You’d wasted your safe time, and didn’t want to risk being walked in on. One report by a disgusted customer, and you could kiss your current safe spot goodbye.

You ducked out into the tiny hallway of the restroom area, and smoothed your sweatshirt over your leggings, trying to appear less frantic and out of place.

‘Another successful bath day.’ you smiled, slipping your bag over your head. ‘I’m getting the hang of this.’

You checked the minimal amount of cash you had left, and figured it’d be enough for two muffins and maybe a shared coffee. You had earned it, and you knew your boyfriend would be happy to hear about your appetite balancing out.

Following the warm scents to the bakery section, you remained conscious of the fact that Bakugou would want what was left for gas, and picked with that in mind first.

The feeling of doing something so wholesome, so domestic, as picking up breakfast for your partner hit your person the same way indulging yourself in the bathroom had.

“Eww.” a cruel whisper-laugh made you instinctively turn to look behind you, and regret washed over you almost instantaneously.

Two girls your age stood behind you, eyes trained on your feet. You knew why immediately, but looked down anyways for confirmation you’d forgotten to trade your shower shoes for your slip ons.

‘They can’t know that I..’ you didn’t even finish your thought. Dirty from use as protection from unknown floors, they served their purpose, but betrayed you all the same.

‘Should I change them?’ you wondered, but could only imagine what looks that’d garner, no matter how discreet you could be.

You met their cold eyes, and couldn’t help but think they looked like porcelain dolls.

Three dolls stood at an impasse. Two, very expensive and impossibly perfect, that’d you display for envy. One, lovingly stitched, but you’d forget her in your toy chest.

You quickly turned to face front as your ticket was called and got your purchases. Hurt coursed through you, its white heat branding your insides, and undoing every good thought and feeling it touched.

Retrieving your purchases, and stuffing them into your bag, you headed for the entrance. It wouldn’t be long before Bakugou came to pick you up.

‘He wouldn’t have put up with that’ you thought sourly, frustrated with yourself once again for not possessing the bottomless well of anger your boyfriend pulled his strength from.

You may scold him about it, but you couldn’t deny that at times, it was an asset. However, that just wasn’t your person. You didn’t want to hurt, or be hurt for that matter.

You fought off your tears successfully, but at the cost of stinging sinuses and a minor headache. Wincing as natural light conquered artificial, you stepped out onto the pavement. The parking lot was coming to life compared to when Bakugou dropped you off, and you plopped on the curb to quickly swap out your shoes.

“Cute bag!” a cheery voice chirped, and you noticed a girl next to you.

Had she been there the whole time? You didn’t see how you could’ve missed her, but you had been upset. Blonde spacebuns, dark purple fishnets, and...jesus was she that cold? A heavy red that stretched from cheek to cheek.

You looked at her, thought her eyes looked a little crazed, and then instantly felt bad. Had you not just been shamed based on appearances?

“Thanks.” you responded shyly, trying to straighten your hair. “Thrifted it.”

“Nice!” she screeched, uncaring of the hour. “My stupid friends never wanna go to thriftstores.”

You winced at the volume, but still found her amusing. “You’ve gotta go to  Moon Over Mona’s , she’s got the best stuff.”

The girl mouthed the store’s title and rolled her eyes up as if burning it into her brain, before she widened her grin and turned her glazed over eyes back to you. “Noted! I’m Himiko.”

“(Y/N).” you smiled gently

“Oh wow, me too.” she patted your bag softly, as if it were a child, or perhaps a cat.

You tilted your head in question at her odd statement.

“Homeless silly, there’s no hiding things from me.” she rolled her eyes to emphasise the ‘duh’ in her tone. “I mean, I couch hop sometimes, but yeah…..”

You cringed and looked out over the parking lot. You didn’t like to use that word, it made your circumstances seem so ugly, and sounded like something your parents would say to shame you back into their home. But wasn’t that what you, and mostly all of your friends, were?

“It’s not a sweeeear word.” Himiko nudged your knee with her own. “It’s whatever to be free right?”

“That is a...perk I guess.” you chuckled, your inclination towards happier thoughts easily being indulged by talking with the girl.

“Exactly!” she slapped your arm, neon green nails standing out in stark contrast to her threadbare black hoodie.

“Sooooooo listen,” she pressed her pointer fingers together, blush intensifying. “Can I hold a dollar or two? My friend is picking me up here soon, and he’s a super stingy bitch. I want to eat something today.”

She dramatically flopped on the concrete behind her, hands rubbing her thin stomach.

You chewed your lip. Bakugou hated when you were ( a free handed sucker ) too generous. You really should save that remaining 10 dollars to give him for gas.

Himiko popped up onto her knees and gave you puppy eyes. Before long, she began imitating a dog altogether. She panted and lolled her tongue until you were laughing at the display and the sheer ridiculousness of it.

“Ok, ok. “ you laughed, reaching into your bag for your wallet. Neon green nails appeared in your view before they seized the entirety of the wad of bills from your wallet.

The girl bolted the moment her fist clenched around the cash.

“Hey!” you screamed, chest exploding with anxiety, as you took off after her.

One of your slip ons came off, and your bag’s contents took turns beating into your sides every time it came back against your side.

The girl had bolted across the parking lot, and she was faster than you by far. A pickup truck on the far end of the parking lot roared to life, and she’d hopped in by the time you caught up.

“I really do love your bag!” Himiko screamed out of the window as it peeled out of the parking lot.

You dropped to your knees, frantically trying to figure out what just happened.

‘You got robbed you idiot.’ anxiety had wrapped its vice grip around you, and now your thoughts sounded like a drill sergeant with a hard on for you. Had she been planning that all along, or had she’d seen something in you once you started talking? Had she been watching you since you’d gotten dropped off? Your mind raced with the hows and whys, until you thought of your boyfriend.

Once you realized how angry and disappointed Bakugou was going to be, the tears you’d tried to ward off came spilling forth. He was always breaking his back and risking his freedom for what little money you two held between you, and you’d stupidly gone and gotten it stolen. How many times had he’d told you that this wasn’t the first day of kindergarten? How many times had he warned you about befriending strangers?

He was going to finally realize you were more of a burden than a compliment and drop your sorry ass. Your most feared thought only made the tears come harder, and you clutched your bag to yourself pathetically to ground yourself in the swirl of panic.

People warily watched you, taking in your sad appearance. The feeling of their eyes giving you the same looks as those girls was almost too much to bear. Worry, but more so disgust, for the teary eyed girl with one shoe and messy hair. The girl with her life in her bag, crying over money they’d likely spend in their first few minutes of shopping.

“What’s wrong with you goddamned animals!? You see a girl crying in the street and you stare? Braindead, mouth breathing-” the rest of the swear laden rant was lost to you as you leaned into the familiar strength that yanked you from the ground.

“Katsuki.” you murmured appreciatively as he slipped your missing shoe on your barefoot.

“Come on baby.” you knew he was burning with questions, and they would go stalled, not forgotten, as he wanted you away from the now sufficiently shamed onlookers.

The smell of caramel surrounded you, and the morning’s chill began to dissipate in light of the car’s heat. Home.

By the time you were settled in the mustang’s passenger seat, your tears had slowed, but you were still in the trenches of dread.

“Who the hell hurt you?” Bakugou slammed his door, but made no moves to leave the area. You knew he wouldn’t until he got answers.

“What did they do baby? Give me a description of em’. Did you catch a name?”

Your cheeks glistened in the rising sunlight, and for a moment he was struck by how beautiful you were, but that only served to make him madder. He gripped the battered steering wheel, open..close..open...close, so he could try and ease the tremors in his hands. All he could picture was punching some faceless guy’s face into paste on a pavement, and...why the hell weren’t you talking?!

“(Y/N)!”

“It was me!” you cried. “I-”

“What the hell are you talking about?” his scowl scrunched into confusion, before it returned to its previous state. “Don’t you dare start that blaming yourself shit. If somebody hurt you-”

“I tried to give this g-girl two dollars, and she snatched all I had and ran. I think she planned it, there was a p-p-pickup truck. ” you hiccuped, hating every second you had to spend retelling the encounter.

Bakugou stared at you, eyes wide and unbelieving for a moment, and you wished your seat would swallow you whole. It could spit you out anywhere so long as it wasn’t there.

“You what?” he growled lowly.

“Katsuki I-I swear I’m sorry.” the hiccups continued. “I’ll make it back-”

“Dammit (Y/N)!” he slammed his hands on the steering wheel, and another scuff joined the rest. “How many times have I told you?!”

“I know.” you sobbed. “I just...she was so nice-”

“Manners of the fucking year robbing you and all!”

Unable to meet his heated crimson gaze and you leaned against the window. The chill outside pressed against the glass, begging to compete with the heat being generated inside of the car. You pressed your warm face further into its chill, trying to ignore the charged energy emanating from the seat next to you. He must’ve really been pissed not to scold you about doing that to his car baby.

“I’m sorry Katsuki..I just felt like shit and wanted to help somebody.” your words were muffled due to half your mouth being mashed into the glass, but he didn’t ask you to repeat yourself.

He didn’t say anything until a few minutes had passed, and it was you who had to ask him to repeat himself.

“I said...I said I’m getting you a bus ticket home.”

He’d done it. He’d voiced the thing you’d wanted to hear least. You’d rather him yell for hours than talk like this.

“Katsuki...” you peeled yourself from the window and turned to face him. “No!”

“ Yes .” he turned his gaze to you, the red roiling with anger still, but sharing its space with sadness now. “It’s selfish of me to keep you out here, you don’t belong on the streets.”

“I belong wherever you are.” you implored, turning your whole body towards him.

You didn’t like the way he was talking at all. He would sometimes say something about sending you back to your parents, until you’d remind him you were grown and shut him up with a kiss. This felt more final however, and you couldn’t stand it.

“You were crying in the street over 10 damn dollars (Y/N). I’m supposed to take care of you!” Bakugou’s entire being was threaded together by his pride and his word. The whole situation was killing him from one end to the other. His mind was relieved you hadn’t been attacked, screaming at him to find the girl and whoever else was involved, and demanding he scrounge together bus fair and get you the fuck away from him.

“You do!” tears bloomed in your eyes again, this time for entirely different reasons. “ Baby , you do.”

You scrambled into his lap, ignoring your inner thighs getting battered by the console in your haste to surround your man. Bakugou didn’t fight your intrusion, but he wouldn’t meet your gaze again either.

Slim fingers threaded through his wild, ash blond spikes, tugging until he was forced to look you in the eye.

“I’m not going anywhere. You can’t make me leave, I won’ t .” you thumbed his cheekbones. “Tell me you want me gone.”

He didn’t and you both knew he wouldn’t say that, not like that. A frustrated sigh fled his lips as he flexed his fingers. Of course he didn’t want you gone, he barely wanted to leave you alone to take a piss most days.

The fingers of one hand danced across your back gently, before firmly bringing you closer to him. His other hand grasped your chin and so he could press his lips to yours in a kiss. It was angry, but you wanted it all the same, understanding the anger wasn’t for you. You got what you wanted, which was physical comfort and putting to bed any silly ideas of separation.

“I don’t want to see you like that again.” he murmured against your lips. “You deserve better than that. I need to give you better than that.”

“ I need to be with you, that’s what I deserve.” You cupped his cheeks initiating another kiss.

“Yeah, yeah.” he kissed a path over your face, stopping when he reached your temple. “You’re a dumbass for staying, and I’m a dumbass for letting you.”

End Note: This once happened for real, sort of. A girl was having a full on cry fit on the floor of Walmart’s entrance and nobody helped until my mom stepped in and asked what she could do for her. So yeah..if you were wondering why no one helped the reader, I guess sometimes people don’t.

[spacehologramcollection]

Request; Kombat Krew reacting to their S/O asking for a cumshot.

Wasn’t my earlier post so nice, fluffy and lovely? Well, that fucking ends here. Because someone requested filth and I am a goblin... This was pure filth so obviously, I decided to accept and write it. Don’t @ me because I speak the fucking truth! And I’m also a disgusting person.  This is really NSFW and obviously involves semen, and not the boat kind even. Sorry I can’t take myself seriously either. But yeah, you know the drill. Can’t read don’t read, 18+ underneath the sinful cut. Enjoy! Hope it’s as requested. Warnings; NSFW, Smut, mentions of Cum and coitus, Kano.  GIFS do not belong to me and I didn’t make them! The Horrific trash filled writing is mine... sadly. 

Kabal; 

He’s totally down for it. He’s fucking loving the idea of making a mess of you. He’s going to want to do it your arse though. It’s his preference. He’s an arse guy and he wouldn’t mind turning it into a fucking mess. He’ll be fucking you pretty hard doggy style, like your head is being pushed into the mattress to try and muffle your moans. And he’ll pull out just before hand, cumming all over your arse and thighs. He’s fucking in love with it, will make a fucking seedy joke about how its better than a Jackson Pollock painting, and how it deserves to be in a gallery. He will help you clean it up (If you’ve read my NSFW Alphabet for him, interpret it how you will) don’t worry. Has a towel on hand and has come prepared, no pun intended… It was intended.  He loves making a mess of you, because his life is just a giant mess to be fair, so why not let you join in on that mess! Jokes aside, more open to it pre-burn than post-burn. It kills him not to do it inside, because he felt great doing it and you fucking loved it… will need some convincing, but nothing a few teasing grabs, sinful begs and the batting of your eyelashes… Why are you his one weakness? Well, you and liquorice.  

Sub Zero/ Kuai Liang; He’s incessant with making sure you’re okay with it. You’re a divine being to him, and he really doesn’t want to make a massive mess of you. He’s not a major fan of mess anyway. But with you practically begging for him to cum on your face. He can’t really say no. Sex isn’t a major strength of his or something he’s explored in depth. So, he’s willing to try it. A mans never too old to learn remember? Those were his exact words. He’ll be having his cock sucked by you, he’s a moaning mess, one hand is in your hair, holding your locks tight and helping to guide your mouth. The other is in his own hair, he has to grip something, and he’s scared if he grips the sheets they’ll tear. Between your mouth working his cock so expertly and the excitement of trying something new, he’s over-sensitised to fuck. He’ll pull out just at the right moment. His cum is pretty cold (Do not @ me for speaking the truth, It needs to be accepted, Sub Zero by name and nature, be happy it’s still a liquid) and the sensation is something completely different. He doesn’t want to look down when he’s finished, he’s nervous that he’ll end up apologising for making a mess. He actually gets slightly turned on, seeing how much of a mess he’s made of you, how it’s his cum dripping down your face and into your mouth. And how happy you look with it. He’s not going to change his preference for finishing. Because if that mess gets on his sheets, he will be slightly disappointed in himself, because he should have been more prepared. He’d still prefer to finish in you/ use protection, but he’s not against trying it again.

Scorpion/ Hanzo Hasashi; Okay, so this is completely new to him. Like the only sexual encounters he’s had before you, were pretty tame and very vanilla. The thought of making a mess of you and cumming on your stomach, face, chest or arse makes him squick a little. Like why would you want that? Like it’s overly messy and he doesn’t think it would be pleasant for you. Are you doing this to try and boost his confidence? When you explain why you want it and how badly you want it, he will struggle to argue and say no. If it gets you going, it gets you going. He’ll want to cum on your stomach or hips, he has a thing for you hips, so it makes sense. He’ll be fucking you deep, so deep that your cunt is clenching around him; to the point he doesn’t want to pull out, because this feels too sinful. But he does, he’ll release himself over your stomach, purposefully trying to aim for your hip bones. As he watches it hit your skin, he feels a bit disgusted with himself, like he’s defiled you. But seeing how much you’re enjoying it, pushes it to the back of his mind. He feels dirty but in a good way? If that makes sense. He never thought cumming on you would get you off, but hell, whatever floats your boat. You’ve been patient with him, if you want him to cum on your stomach, then he’ll fucking do it. Does prefer to cum in you still, but he doesn’t mind treating you and indulging you in the future. Will help you clean up, it’s the least he can do since you know, he came all over you. Don’t tell anyone either.

Erron Black; This isn’t new to him and it’s not a new request. He’s totally down for it. He won’t be sleazy and be boasting about how he’s done it numerous times before. That’s gross and off putting. He’ll instantly start sweet talking you, asking how badly you want him to mess you up? And asking if you deserve it. He’s totally a tease. He’s prepared though, like he’ll make sure a towel is nearby and plans out exactly how its going to go down. Like what positions he’ll use first before settling in. He’ll want to cum on your chest. He loves it. But he’s a bit greedy, and will end up going for your face, just so he can watch it drip down onto your chest. He’s a sucker for your chest anyway, and he’s getting a blowjob on top of it. So, it’s like the icing on the cake. He’ll be stood up, you on your knees, his hands knitted into your hair, whilst you’re sucking on his cock. He’s watching you work, smiling a little smugly, because you’ve no idea when he’s going to do it. Element of surprise and all that. You’ve thought he was going to do it like three positions ago, so you’ve given up hope. Then bam, he pulls out, makes sure he gets a little in your mouth; before ensuring it splashes into your chin, and then onto your chest. Sits back whilst he recovers, watching as it drips down your chest. He’s filth incarnate but will also ensure you’re cleaned up and comfy after. He’s a Filth ridden Gentlemen.

Kano; (Yeah, I can’t get over that he made the cut, but this is something he’d be into and well, he’s been requested a bit so yeah. Here’s your furry Australian fucktrumpet) He’s into it. He’s done it before, wore the t-shirt, nothing new. He’ll even tell you its nothing new to him and will laugh a little when you ask him. Will call you a filthy cum slut. It’s going to happen. Because he’s no filter and his mouth is filthier than he is (Don’t deny the truth, he’s vulgar and makes me look like church) He’ll make you beg for it, from the moment you ask to just before it happens. You better make sure you beg as well, because he’s waiting for the right moment to do it. He’s stuck between wanting to cum on your chest or your face. In the end he decides that both is a good option. Why the fuck not? You wanted him to cum on you, so he’s going to give his little slut what they want. When he pulls out, he’ll make sure a fair bit lands in your mouth first. There’s also nothing graceful, poised or well-practised about it. It’s sloppy and it goes fucking everywhere. Like did he even aim? Or did he just point his dick and hope for the fucking best? Oh god its in your fucking hair too. He’s not sorry, you asked for it, and he fucking delivered. He cums a fair bit, so like expect that. But if you enjoy it you enjoy it. He’s actually so proud of you, because you took it like a champ. Won’t say that but will sort of semi-praise you on how filthy you look and how much you must love it. He’ll throw a towel to you, commenting on how much of a mess you look before laughing. It’s a joke and not in a nasty way, more banter. He’ll also joke you have somewhere to be, and he doesn’t think him taking you to meet some clients, with cum on your face would go down too well. So, he’ll run you a shower before he leaves. He’ll also text you how well you did and how he can’t wait to get back and make a bigger mess out of you. (I really don’t like not writing proper aftercare, because it’s so important, but Kano isn’t the nicest of people… but I had to include some, because it would make me super uncomfortable if I didn’t. Sorry guys!)

Kotal Kahn;

Isn’t sure what you’re wanting at first, like, you want him to cum on your body and not in you? He’s not disgusted or turned on at first. He’s just curious. Like it’s a peculiar request, and it kind of fascinates him. Oh, you Earthrealmers and your folly. If its what his Empress wants, then its what his Empress shall have. He did initially worry it would come across degrading, because you are far above that. But once you re-assure him it’s what you want, and it gets you off, he’ll oblige and be more than into it. It’s his role to ensure his Partner is pleasured, happy and well-looked after. (Spoiler for my NSFW Alphabet for him) He’s got a major thing for your back, so powerful and how it holds your posture. So, he’s more than fine for cumming on that, plus he gets to fuck you from behind which he adores. He’s a fairly powerful guy and him fucking you is no exception. Your legs will turn to jelly and your knees feel ready to buckle. But god is it good. You’re praying, begging and moaning for him to do it when he warns he’s close. He’ll pull out and aim directly for your back, pretty dam good aim with minimal going on the bed. Thank the Elder gods. He’ll love it, watching it drip down and how it paints a pattern on your back. It’s fucking beautiful and divine. He’s found a new thing he loves and is down to do it again. He’ll clean you up himself and do a very thorough job of it. He’ll even run you a bath and wash your hair. None got in it, but he has to spoil his Empress.

Raiden;

Okay so you want him, to cum on your face? Has he got that right? Does he need clarification, he fucking does? Because why? Why would someone as pretty, beautiful and divine as you, want to be defiled in such a way? He’s so confused by it at first. Sex isn’t his forte, and he’s actually tempted to ask others if they’ve heard of it, (I must consult the Elder Gods, sorry I’m trying to be serious) You fucking Mortals and your weird arse shit will be the death of him. He’ll take some convincing, because you’re an amazing partner, you’re his fucking equal and he feels he’s disgracing your honour almost for cumming on your face. But if you want it, you want it, and since you’ve asked him so nicely and ensured him it’s fine. He will oblige. He has second thoughts just before he pulls out, like it feels so good and normal to do it that way… but you did ask nicely, and he did promise you, he’s a man of his word… most of the time. He has to admit, it does feel pretty sinful to do, and he’s not opposed to watching it drip down your face. But he’s not a massive fan of it. He will help you clean up and will apologise under his breath. He’s still unsure of it. So, he doesn’t really think he’ll do it again. Dark Raiden on the other hand… that is another story!

[ilikecowsnstuff]

Chapter 6!!!

SUMMARY:  UA Hero Course - Third Year. Shigaraki Tomura and Dabi have been classmates and rivals since their very first day at UA. But with new feelings developing how will they cope given their history of fragile and often violent encounters? Their dance begins after a partnered training exam goes wrong, leaving Shigaraki wounded and Dabi feeling guilty. AU. 

For AO3 – Click Here

For FanFiction – Click Here

====================

CHAPTER SIX – CONFRONTATION!

 Thirty minutes into first period, it sounded like the bell had gone off prematurely. Only, in addition to the usual shrill sound, emergency lights began to blink and flash out in the hallway.

 Ten seconds later, it was still going off.

 FIRE ALARM!

 Each of the classroom doors slammed open and teachers moved to direct the flow of students pouring into the hallway.

 “All right, everyone outside.” Mr. Aizawa instructed with a lazy gesture of his hand, but not one of the students in the hero course seemed interested in getting up or making it out in a hurry. “Now, please.” All the students did eventually gravitate in the right direction, however, to join the entire student body that was gathered en masse on the lawn outside the UA building.

 Shigaraki hid under his hoodie, leaning heavily into the first tree he came across to save him from being bumped into and pushed about by the other students milling around. The scene was chaotic to say the least, disorderly, with no one really knowing what was going on. Was it a real fire or just a drill? The gossip had already begun - too much excitement for some people so early in the morning.

 “Free period, total win.” Kurogiri stated, taking up a post next to Shigaraki.

 “Hopefully the school is actually on fire and we can get the rest of the year off.” Shigaraki added, a yawn quickly followed. Unfortunately, he spoke just as Mr. Aizawa passed by them and he was visibly irritated, none too impressed by the boy’s banter about the school burning down.

 “Come see me after class, Mr. Tomura.”

 “I was kidding.” Shigaraki grumbled and folded his arms over his chest with a huff. Great. Just what he needed.

 Kurogiri snickered.

In front of them, the crowd seemed to part like the red sea, someone was pushing their way through, and from out of the sea came Takami with the new transfer student in tow. Of all the people, how did he manage to find Shigaraki? And why was the better question?

 “Oi, fuckhands!” He called out, heading straight for the two boys. “I was looking for you!” 

 Shigaraki scowled and pushed away from the tree.

 “Have you met Kai yet?” He asked introducing the dark-haired boy who looked equally as exhausted by Takami as Shigaraki usually was. The blond never shut up. “You know, you’re going to have some competition now. He’s got some sweet hand...”

 Shigaraki didn’t wait for the blond to finish his sentence. He grabbed the front of Takami’s shirt and twisted his fingers in the material. “What did you just call me?” He yanked him in close, snarling. 

 “Geez, relax!” Takami suggested with an anxious laugh. He knew he was in trouble and struggled, trying to dislodge Shigaraki’s knotted fingers.

 “What. Did. You. Just. Call. Me?” Shigaraki repeated. 

 “Let go of me!”

 Shigaraki had heard the nickname, oh did he, loud and clear, but he was baiting the boy to say it again, almost as if it were a dare. But he also wasn’t going to wait around for an answer either, he had no patience where Takami was concerned, and especially with that level of disrespect. It was staggering.

 Shigaraki lashed out with his fist, knuckles connecting with the other boy’s face. Takami grunted as his head snapped to the side, and then he was falling backwards, knocked off balance from the force of the punch.

 “You broke my fucking nose!” He howled. Long-fingered hands came up to cover his face as long tendrils of blood began to trickle down his cheeks leaving a pattern of sadistic like markings over his face.

 Shigaraki stormed over and stamped his right foot down onto the center of Takami’s chest, pressing his weight into the other boy so he couldn’t escape. He leaned over, close to the fallen body, lip curled. “You think that name is funny?”

 “What? No!” Takami mumbled through his bloodied hands, “It was just a joke!”

 “Jokes are funny.” Shigaraki returned without budging.

 “Get off me!”

 Someone laughed.

 Kurogiri lifted his arm, pointing firmly at Kai, who was the source of the laughter, “You! Don’t move.”

 The new kid lifted his hands, palms up in submission before folding them neatly over his chest. Clearly, he had no interest in getting involved but was thoroughly amused by the show, “Not my fight, not my problem.”

 “Shigaraki. Careful.” Kurogiri cautioned, turning his head from one side to the next, to see who, if anyone, had noticed the action. He wouldn’t intervene unless there was a chance of more trouble, and usually, wherever Takami was, Dabi and the remainder of their troupe of misfits would be close behind. This could turn real ugly, real quick.

 “I’m just going to teach this little bird a lesson in respect.” Shigaraki hissed without taking his eyes off Takami. He ground his rubber-soled sneaker into the other boy, the sounds of his distress fuelling Shigaraki’s malevolence, and admittedly, his excitement. 

 “HEY! What’s going on?”

 Without hesitating, Kurogiri stepped out to act as a shield for Shigaraki while he did whatever he wanted and needed to do to Takami.

 “Get out of the way!” Dabi barked in warning.

 Shigaraki whipped his head around, lip twitching with a vicious smile. It seemed Takami’s support had finally arrived. Too bad he was out-numbered. “Stay out of it!”

 “I can’t do that, Shigaraki. Back off.” Dabi appealed, his mouth a hard line, “I don’t want to fight with you. Come on.”

 “Tch,” Shiagaraki sneered. He didn’t want to fight with Dabi either, and that realization really bothered him. A week ago, he wouldn’t have hesitated, neither of them would have. He was becoming soft! Fuck!

 Turning back to Takami, Shigaraki reached down to drag the other boy up, gripping his school tie until his shoulders were lifted just off the ground. “Call me that name again and you’ll lose one of your precious wings.” He threatened, letting go, and allowing Takami’s back to hit the ground once more.

 “Asshole.” The blond boy muttered.

 With a firm push, one that was a lot rougher than it needed to be, Shigaraki removed his foot from Takami’s chest and straightened out to his full height. “Peasant.” He spat at the shaken bird boy who was trembling on the ground and then whipped his head back to Dabi. “Tell your friend to watch his mouth.”

 Dabi’s brow furrowed, he was smart enough to keep his trap shut.

 “Let’s go.” Shigaraki mumbled to Kurogiri. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and headed directly into the thickest part of the crowd. He wasn’t running, and it wasn’t as if he cared about being caught, or blamed, for the assault, he just couldn’t stand being in the presence of the pseudo-perfect golden hero any longer. He was already tempted to decay one of those wings just for the fun of it.

 Briefly, he glanced back over his shoulder, eyeing Dabi before disappearing into the bevy of UA uniforms.

 Dabi watched Shigaraki leave, his heart heavy and beating rapidly. He wanted to say… something, anything, but couldn’t find the right words. Not in front of Takami, or Kurogiri. Or the new kid who was idling by, unphased by the sudden conflict. He took a calming breath, just grateful that their brief confrontation didn’t end in a physical fight.

 “By the way, good job having my back,” Takami mumbled sarcastically, lifting himself up into a sitting position, “You’re supposed to be my bestfriend and you just let him walk away. What’s got into you?”

 “What did you say to him?” Dabi asked, ignoring his moody friend and holding out his hand, offering to help him up.

 “What did I…?!? He’s got a short fuse, Dabi. You know that.” Even if wasn’t ready to stand, Takami didn’t want to look more pathetic than he already did so he took the hand and bit back a groan as he was lifted to his feet. 

 Dabi couldn’t disagree with Takami, he knew very well that it didn’t take much for Shigaraki to snap, but he also knew that Shigaraki wouldn’t attack Takami unprovoked. He wasn’t stupid and there were teachers and other students everywhere around them. He wasn’t a complete dick either, as Takami was implying.

 “You said something to him.” Dabi mumbled under his breath, not wanting to aggravate Takami any further.

 Then Kai was there. Standing in front of the two boys, smirking like something real funny was going on. “Your friend has a smart mouth, Dabi. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have the balls to back it up.” He snickered.

 “What's that supposed to mean?” Dabi said, his head tilting slightly.

 “Takami, what was it you called Shigaraki? Hmm.” Kai scrubbed his hand over his chin just below his mask, pretending to have trouble recalling the nickname the blond boy had used, and then he snapped his fingers, like it was a sudden revelation. “Oh yeah, that’s it. Fuckhands.” He said matter-of-factly. “He called him fuckhands.”

 “Jesus.” Dabi pressed the heel of his palm to his forehead, shaking his head in astonishment.

 “It was just a fucking joke! How’d I know he would overreact like that?” Takami explained, lifting his arm and pressing his shirt sleeve against his bleeding nose to stop the flow of blood, “You know, you could have stepped in to help too.” He said, chewing the new kid out.

 The other boy scoffed, “Like I said, it wasn’t my fight. Who was I to stop it?” He retorted, eyes narrowed, going very serious suddenly, “And that jab you took at Shigaraki, I also found it a little offensive to be honest. So, I can’t say I didn’t enjoy watching him mess up that pretty face.” He wiggled his fingers, reminding Takami that he had a similar quirk to the boy he had just insulted.

 “Nice job, idiot. Made another enemy today.” Dabi muttered to his friend. “Bravo.”

 “Shut up.” Takami returned, trying to turn his head and shoot Dabi a look, but it didn’t come across half as angry as he’d hoped.

 “Anyways, it’s been real fun but i’m out… of this.” Kai gave a casual two-fingered salute and then retreated backwards into the crowd of students. He wanted to catch up to Shigaraki before he lost him in the muddle of people. Considering what he had witnessed, he thought they’d get along well, they could be friends, that was if he could actually get Shigaraki to talk to him.

 “ALL RIGHT, STUDENTS!” The voice of Present Mic filled the air, “BACK INSIDE!”

 “Let’s go. Stragglers will be spending their afternoons with me.” Mr. Aizawa mumbled, ambling slowly beside the students. He stopped when he came to Takami and Dabi, his lazy gaze taking in the picture of 1-A’s class president with a bloody nose and his best friend looking more than a little pissed off.

 Neither of the boys said anything.

 “Takami. Dabi.” He raised a curious brow, “Either of you care to explain what happened here?”

 Takami opened his mouth to speak but Dabi immediately interjected, shoving his friend aside, “Idiot walked into a tree. You know, pretty crowded out here.” Dabi laughed awkwardly, and then grabbed at Takami’s forearm, “I’m going to take him to see the nurse.”

 It was pretty obvious that Mr. Aizawa didn’t believe a single word of Dabi’s stumbling explanation, but he also didn’t question them further. He probably didn’t care, as long as no one was currently fighting, “I expect to see you in class next period. Both of you.”

 “Yes, sir.” Dabi muttered, dragging Takami forward and along with the flow of students.

 “Seriously?” Takami grumbled, “You’re going to cover for that piece of trash?”

 “Looks like it.” Dabi affirmed, tossing his friends arm away.

 “Dude.” He couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing, “Not cool.”

 “Neither is calling someone fuckhands, but you did it. You reap what you sow.”

====================

Chapter One – Accidental Attraction 

Chapter Two – After Care 

Chapter Three – Dazed and Confused 

Chapter Four – I Like You 

Chapter Five - Friends and Enemies

[drgrlfriend]

Author Meme

Tagged by @ato-the-bean 

Author Name:

dr.girlfriend or dr.g for short!

Fandoms You Write For:

X-Men (Rogan), BBC Sherlock (Johnlock), James Bond (00Q), Teen Wolf (Sterek), and Marvel (Winterhawk) with a little side-trip into Cabin Pressure once!

Where You Post:

FFN in the old twilight days, AO3 now

Most Popular One-Shot:

Layover

Excerpt:

Big, serious brown eyes were staring right into his from only a few inches away. The child had clambered half over the arm of Derek’s chair to study him at close range, her little rosebud mouth pursed in concentration.

“Uh.” Derek couldn’t look away as the girl reached out one pudgy hand and patted him gently on the cheek. Her scent was soft and sweet and somehow a bit familiar, just enough to keep Derek from shying away. Derek didn’t know too much about kids but he guessed this one was probably three years old or so, head still oversized in proportion to the short limbs and round little belly.

She seemed fascinated with Derek’s beard, eyes widening further under incredibly thick lashes as she petted Derek’s cheek some more, smoothing down the short stubble. Finally she grinned widely. “Good wuff.”Derek jerked upright, hands clenching on the edge of his seat. Did she just say?...

“CJ!” The child was suddenly gone, lifted up by a strong, tattooed forearm around her little potbelly. “You scared the he— heck out of me! What have I told you about wandering — Derek?”

Most Popular Multi-Chapter Story:

Windows

“You’re blind,” Derek said flatly, the anger draining from him so suddenly he felt almost woozy. His vision cleared, his claws sliding back into blunt fingernails.

“Thanks for the memo, genius,” the kid said acidly. “I can still fucking defend myself, so don’t take another damn step.”

“Fuck, I...I’m sorry,” Derek stuttered.

“What?!” The kid’s brow crinkled. “I mean — what?! You’re fucking sorry!?” His lips thinned into a harsh line. “What, is this some kinda Hallmark movie where you’re discovering the error of your ways because you don’t want to rob a blind person?! That’s fucking condescending, man. I’ll have you know that —”

“Just, wait.” Derek interrupted what was apparently the start of a convincing argument as to why he should rob the kid after all, feeling his head start to spin. “This is — it’s a misunderstanding. I’m — I’m not robbing you. You’re — you’re safe, okay? I’m taking three steps back. Just — just let me explain.”

“Explain why you came busting into my apartment? Yeah, go right ahead, man, I can’t wait to hear this epic tale.”

Favourite Story You Wrote:

I think most of my epic-length stories are pretty much my babies, but I’m always most enthusiastic about the fandom I’m in currently, so if you asked me which of my stories I would recommend to someone at the moment it would be:

Lucky in Love

“I’m not some charity case,” Bucky says pugnaciously.

“I didn’t think you were,” Clint answers back readily enough. “I mean, I can tell you’re fucked up for sure, but of the two of us, I’m probably the bigger disaster. My sleep schedule is shit, and I drink coffee straight from the pot. I sing in the shower even though I’m deaf as fuck. I have arrows everywhere because I’m an archer — did I tell you that? And I was raised in a literal circus, so I’m not exactly domestic. Let’s see, what else?” He squints down at the ground, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah, I won the building in a poker game with the Russian mafia and every once in awhile they show up and try to take it back, but usually I handle it, no problem. Uh...”

Clint happens to looks up and Bucky’s eyes are wide, his mouth hanging open. Clint’s hand freezes where he’s rubbing the back of his neck, suddenly embarrassed. Yeah, when you put it all out there at once, it doesn’t sound so good.

Story You Were Nervous to Post:

I’m Game (A Very Craigslist Thanksgiving)

"If you’d like to have me as your strictly platonic date for Thanksgiving, but have me pretend to be in a very long or serious relationship with you, to torment your family, I’m game," the ad had said. "I can do these things, at your request: openly hit on other guests while you act like you don't notice, start instigative discussions about politics and/or religion, propose to you in front of everyone, pretend to be really drunk as the evening goes on (sorry, I don't drink, but I used to. a lot. too much in fact. I know the drill), start an actual, physical fight with a family member, either inside or on the front lawn for all the neighbors to see. I require no pay but the free meal I will receive as a guest."

This was my first fic in the huge Sterek fandom, and I was especially nervous because I hadn’t watched much of the show yet -- just read a lot of fanfic!

How Do You Choose Your Titles:

I am the WORST at titles.  I used to just call fics “The _____” based on whatever the most prominent feature of the story was.  Some of my titles are ridiculous puns that people hate.  :-)  “Quriosity” was just the working title of my doc until I thought of something better, but it grew on me.

Do You Outline:

Not a huge amount in advance, but I outline as I go to keep track of what time of year it should be in the story and to remind myself of what has already happened, because otherwise I read the story from the beginning before I write the next part and that can become time-consuming.

Complete:

40 stories although one of them is a bunch of ficlets.

In-Progress:

In progress (and I better get cracking on it) is my last Fandom Trumps Hate auction with police dog!Derek and college student!Stiles.

Coming Soon/Not Yet Started:

I have a lot of Winterhawk ideas that I’m not allowed to write until I finish the FTH fic!

Do You Accept Prompts:

I don’t write a ton, so if you send me a prompt you’ll probably be disappointed.  Most of my fics, though, were prompted by one thing or another.  Either an idea in fanfic I wanted to go a different way, or a prompt list, or something like that.

Upcoming Story You Are Most Excited to Write:

Excited to write more Winterhawk since I’m currently obsessed with that fandom.

Tagged By:

@ato-the-bean 

Tagging:

I tag @kangofu-cb, @pantstomatch, and @mojoflower (only if they want to!)

[trans-rights-gastly]

[Posted without the ask attached like requested. Original ask HERE]

Eli played with the mint in his mouth. The branch chief had a strict ‘no food’ rule in place but he made an exception for things like small candies. Never gum though, he considered it not to be a snack but a toy with flavour.

The entire office was silent except for the silent humming of the computers and the occasional clicking of the branch chief’s pen. [Click Click] A habit, he had noticed.  Eli looked at the branch chief from the corner of his eye, a thing he caught himself doing a lot lately. Not because he was, as his co-workers would playfully tease him with, crushing on the guy but because Eli was bored. Occasionally he would imagine what kind of person would.. or should he say could, fall in love with someone like his boss.

The guy wasn’t handsome by any means and Eli wondered if he ever was. Even in old pictures he would occasionally see on a senior-employee’s desk or an old employee group photo the branch chief had looked almost the same; naturally skinny with a sickly skin and hair color.

If Eli had to call one thing of his boss handsome or beautiful it would’ve been his eyes. There was something about the icy blue of it that just stood out, especially against the backdrop of the rest of his boss. He wondered why he would hide them behind those coloured glasses. According to rumors, Eli himself wasn’t around to see it for himself, the branch chief always had worn glasses in weird colours, pink, yellow and now of course, green.

The odd shape of it made him look bug-eyed and even odder than usual. He was so lost in thought that he forgot he was staring but it wasn’t like the branch chief noticed. If he was working, he was working and not a single thing on this earth or outside of it would distract him from it, he’d only stop to click his pen and that was it. [Click Click]

Sometimes Eli entertained the thought of replacing himself with a bag of flower wearing a hat and a wig and just taking a paid day off, the guy probably wouldn’t notice the difference anyway. However he never did. He was so close to earning that promotion and he really could use the money. Aether was far from the worst job as it was safe, clean and it paid well. Which was good news considering that he was the sole breadwinner in his household. So if the boss needed a sucking up to, he was there. Not because he like the guy, no far from it, the guy was an asshat, but because flattery gets you everywhere.

He would offer to get lunches, to come in earlier and already boot up all the PC’s, to be close to him so that if he ever needed anything- he’d be there in less than a minute. It was soul crushing, but Eli know he was close to get his reward. Lately whenever, he did something well, he would notice a faint smile on his boss’ lips, a genuine smile, not the creepy one he would sport for events and tours.

“Eli.”

The sudden voice halted his train of thought right away. “Huh- I mean, yes branch chief?” Eli had made a habit of calling his boss by his full title, a thing that earned him lots and lots of points and would always pay off.

“Do you ever think about leaving this place?” The fact that he didn’t get an ear meant that his first response was deemed good enough.

“No, sir. I love it here.” Another rehearsed response. Sure, you were free to leave and go do something else but that’s not what his peers wanted to hear now, was it?

“Good, very good. Because see, there has recently been a job opening- It’s still within the wonderful foundation but it’s higher up and of course that means.. higher pay.”

For a split second Eli wondered if his boss rehearsed this as well but he shook it off, he worked for this and he had earned it. He never made fun of the guy and even protected him. He needed this promotion and he deserved it! “And you are telling me this because…” He dared not finish the sentence himself, afraid that he may mess up.

“Because I consider you a worthy candidate.” [Click Click] Eli felt his inside become warm and bubbly but he contained himself. An employee must always be prim and proper, that was the rule. “I- Thank you, sir. I do not know what to say.” “If you say yes, you can start tomorrow.” [Click Click]

The next day Eli arrived even earlier than he usually did. He shifted his weight from his one leg to the other and was looking forward to wearing a different uniform from now on. This one was tight and a little too revealing to his tastes.

A cold finger suddenly poked his neck which made Eli jump a little. He turned around ready to confront his attacker when he saw it was his boss. He wondered how it was possible for the guy to have fingers THAT cold while wearing gloves.

“Branch Chief..! You scared me.” Eli had not hear him walk in at all, one would think that wearing golden plated heals would make you less stealthy but the branch chief proved otherwise.  

“Apologies!” He threw his hands up in the hair like he genuinely meant it. Eli had worked for him for almost 6 years and never heard him apologise, not just to him but to everyone the branch chief talked to. It was always THEIR fault. “Also please, call me Faba.” He said with a grin that would make a cheap cartoon villain jealous.  

“Come now, can’t be late to your first day, now can you!” There was a weird hint of excitement in Faba’s voice. Deep down there was a voice within Eli telling him to run, just run and never look back but he ignored it.

[Click Click].

And then it was gone, the entire feeling of anxiety and nerves, just gone. Was it really so weird for Eli to think that his boss was genuinely happy for him? Of course he was happy, he was his protege! With a spring in his step he followed the branch chief to the elevator and watched him punch in a code he never saw before.

“You’ll be working a little deeper down than usual. It gets a bit clammy because it’s below sea level but otherwise you won’t even notice the difference!”

The elevator went down for what felt like almost 20 minutes when it came to a stop. Eli never knew that this was under the surface.. He couldn’t wait to tell the others about it.

He couldn’t believe what he saw, to the left and right of him were huge thick doors that seemed impossible to open. He thought about the fire safety drill they had to do once a month and how this was absolutely not fire safe. He kept looking around till he slammed into Faba who had come to a sudden stop and got a facefull of hair.

Faba was almost a head shorter than him and landed face first in the little tuft of hair on the top of his head. “I.. I’m sorry..” Eli braced himself to be scolded, to be told to turn around and hand in his letter of resignation but to his surprise the branch chief just smiled.

“I should have told you I was stopping. My bad.” Eli now noticed that Faba had taken his glasses off, icy blue eyes looked at him like he was wounded prey and [Click Click]. Actually scratch that. It looked fine. Pretty even.

“So this is where you’ll be outfitted, you have to look the part. Presentation is everything.”

Eli nodded. He was not going to mess up again. If the branch chief told him to jump he would ask how high.

“I’ll leave you to it! Privacy is also important.” And with that Faba turned on his heels and left the room, the thick and heavy doors slamming shut behind him.

Eli looked around and found a locker with his name written on it in neat handwriting. Like Faba had said there was an outfit waiting for him. A lab coat that looked like a simple version of the one faba was wearing, some new looser pants and new shoes and gloves with a golden rim.

He changed faster than he ever did and looked at himself from all angles and decided that he looked good.

Eli smiled and felt amazing, this paid off. Finally he could do more in life that just work. Now he could spoil the people at home, maybe take them to vacation. Kalos is nice this time of year and-

He swallowed hard, did he hear a voice? It wasn’t the branch chief voice, that was sure. He held his breath when he heard it again, a faint voice yelling for help. It was so far away but it was human and in panic.

“Hello..?” The word barely escaped his lips and he only now realised how dry his mouth was. Eli scanned the room and saw an air vent, a few inches above the floor. He got to his knees and put his ear next to it.

His stomach turned. He heard something that he could only describe as soup falling to the floor, it sounded wet but with stuff like noodles in it, the screaming slowly faded away.

Eli brought his knees up to his chin and wiped away the tears that had formed in the corner of his eyes. Maybe… Maybe he heard wrong. Maybe it was something else. The foundation.. it helped people and Pokemon alike. Maybe someone was watching a movie, but it sounded so real.. He should tell the branch chief or his new co-workers.. Wait- did he ever see someone wearing the outfit he was wearing right now?

“Already tired?”

Eli jumped up, equally happy to see a familiar face but terrified from what he just heard.

[Click Click]

His heartbeat slowed to a normal pace again and he exhaled. “I’m.. I’m so sorry, branch- I mean Faba. I just thought I heard something and it scared me.”

Faba looked at him, icy blues piercing directly into Eli’s soul and that smile… It seemed to go from ear to ear with slightly crooked teeth that looked weirdly sharp in this kind of light.

“Oh that.” And that was apparently all he was going to say on the topic. “I returned because I forgot something important. See, you’ll be working in a place that is a little… let’s say more dangerous than your old job so you need to be wearing this!” Eli looked at the box Faba was holding, it was neatly wrapped, like a present but Faba seemed way more excited than he was.

He carefully unwrapped the box and looked inside. It was a helmet. A weird one, with a mouth piece that looked like a modern gas mask and a golden vizor that covered the entire face.

“Tadaa!!” Faba was giddy like a mom who bought her kids that new gaming console when she said she wouldn’t. “C’mon, put it on!” He guided Eli’s hands towards the helmet and helped put it on.

“Thanks..” He realised his words were slightly slurred a thing he wanted to apologise but before he could a sharp pain like a knife stabbing his brain shut him up.

Eli started to panic and had trouble breathing, he fell to the floor and tried to pry the helmet off but it seemed tighter now.

[Click click]

Eli felt his body relaxing. Was it his body? Whose body was it? Who was he? His name, what was it again? Eli… E…? Wait how did he end up here? There was someone there, through the golden vizor he could see two icy blue circle looking at him and he felt a hand patting him on the shoulders.

“There now.” That voice.. who was it’s owner again?

“My name is Faba.” [Click Click]

“I’m your boss and you are here because I saw potential in you. You are such an obedient little one aren’t you? Always showing up on time, always using my correct title like the good boy you are.”

Was he being spoken to like a pet? Was he a pet? Was he human?

“I need you to Listen to me.” [Click Click]

Okay, listening. He could do that.

“See they aren’t all so wonderful as you are and they’ve become.. difficult. Would you be a dear and show them out, please?” [Click Click]

“I need them in little pieces, it’s easier to dispose off.. Now they may plead with you, beg you and even fight you but I know you will Listen to me and do as your told.”

The other person who called himself Faba reached out a hand and pulled him up.

“Be good.. and I may even give you your name back.”

[youknowmymethods]

Content Creator Interview #3

In the third part of this series it’s @ohaine ‘s turn (*waves*) to pick @ashockinglackofsatin​ ‘s (satin_doll’s) brain about inspiration for baroque and larger than life OCs, what poetry has to do with fanfiction, and how a chance encounter with a masked swordsman kicked her down the path to fandom and fanfic writing. 

(My apologies if the formatting looks a bit weird to you. This looks fine on my desktop, but a bit crazy in the mobile app. Not sure what’s going on or how to fix it, so...)

                                   “He drapes the black cloth carefully. He doesn't want to disturb more than necessary. As he works, he murmurs to them, softly, ever so softly. Periodically, he pauses and stares into the distance, as if he's watching for a visitor. No one will come now. Not out here. Not for him.”

-Telling the Bees

If you read enough, if you pay enough attention, every now and then you’re rewarded with a fanfic author who not only truly understands the character they’re writing, but who also truly understands writing itself. They’re a gift. Not only to their readers but to other writers who take inspiration from them, who learn from them, who aspire to be as good as them.

On a sunny Saturday morning in April 2016 for the very first time I opened satin_doll’s page on AO3 and read her first Sherlolly story, “Telling the Bees.” I cried fat, ugly tears for Sherlock, for Molly, (inconvenient, not to mention embarrassing as I was in a public place) but I smiled because I’d found one. A gift. It was the beginning of a love affair with her work, the beginning of a masterclass in writing and understanding, but maybe even more importantly it was the beginning of a wonderful friendship. And it began with the same first words I’ve used to introduce her here.

It’s a joyous thing to be given the opportunity to talk to her about her writing. Whether it’s a revelatory character study, like “Down and Shaking When I Think I Lose,” the heart-wrenching romance of “Doubt,” even the so-perfect-it-could-be-canon world of the “Dark Company” series, satin_doll pulls you down a rabbit hole, into Sherlock’s world in a way that makes you understand him better, and teaches you something about yourself in the process.

 Funny, clever, insightful, she’s my number one writing crush, I love her to bits. 

Over Christmas 2018 satin_doll (@ashockinglackofsatin here on tumblr) was kind enough to answer my fangirling questions about her writing and characters. I hope you all enjoy reading what she had to say as much as I did.

  OhAine: So, starting at your beginning, how did the spark ignite?

satin_doll: I started with fiction before I could actually read or write. When I was four years old, there was a television show on about Robin Hood. My mom would park me in front of the television every day when this show was on (probably to get some relief/keep me out of her face for a little while so she could get something done) and I was absolutely in love with Robin Hood. I made up stories and made my mother write them down for me. This is how I learned to read and write: she started teaching me my letters when I asked her what the little black marks were on the paper. Once I learned, I read everything I could get my hands on. I read literally everything. I was absolutely fascinated with words.  I belonged to a children's book club, went to the library, read my parents books (both my mom and stepdad were voracious readers, so there were books everywhere.) I especially loved books about fantastic things - magic, sorcery, dragons, etc. I loved mythology, superheroes, science fiction and fantasy. I collected comic books for years. Not much changed as I got older. Speculative fiction is still what I'm drawn to.   

Despite my obsession with books and stories, I never considered myself a "writer" until after college. In school, I had the usual literature and writing classes until I met Mr. P, my creative writing professor. He was a well-known poet (think Pulitzer Prize) and our creative writing was almost exclusively poetry. I fell in love with both him and poetry and continued to take classes with him for years. One of my proudest achievements was breaking into a particularly choosy literary magazine and being published in it before he was. He never let me forget that. He also was fond of saying "Novelists are failed poets", which I took to heart for a long while once I understood what he was saying. He wasn't criticizing novelists, just making a point about how to write poetry. That's about the extent of my training as a writer; the rest is just me and my periodic forays into hubris. 

OhAine: Is voracious reading how you discovered fanfiction? 

satin_doll: No, it was on the old Compuserve bulletin boards. And loved it. But it didn't really occur to me to write it back then.

In 1998, I belonged to an online discussion group about Zorro. I had a video tape of all the old Disney episodes and I adored Guy Williams. One of the ladies in the group - I still don't remember why she chose me - asked me to write her a story about Zorro, so I did. I think Zorro ended up in a bathtub with a lady, taking his mask off and introducing himself by his real name. I don't know what happened to that file, I wish I still had it. As I recall, it was a nice story and I was very pleased with it. At any rate, that was my first fanfic as an adult that I shared with someone else, and after that I couldn't quit doing it.

OhAine: It’s that sharing that makes fanfiction unique, isn’t it? Because the reader isn’t some abstract concept, far removed from you, we’re all part of the same fandom so you get an instant connection, almost real-time feedback.   

satin_doll: Exactly. And that feedback is critical for a writer, no matter how much some of us protest that we "write for ourselves." We don't live in a vacuum and psychologically speaking, for writers, sharing our work is an important form of setting boundaries, which is expressing who and what we are. This is especially true for fanfic writers, I think. When we post work, we're not doing it so that we can go back and look at it ourselves. We're communicating and we're communicating something important. We join a fandom because we like it, and to communicate that enjoyment with other like-minded individuals. We want to share what we love and what we know. When we write stories about the characters or using a particular setting or universe, we're expressing, communicating - hopefully - something important about ourselves, both individually and as a group. 

When I write fanfic, I write it to communicate. I don't expect lots of kudos or comments; in fact, I'm usually surprised that anyone reads it at all, let alone takes the time to leave a remark or anything of that sort. But it's out there, and hopefully someone will read it and it will touch something inside them, have a little meaning for them. Don't get me wrong, I'm not writing to change anyone's life. It's enough to trigger some feeling, some emotional response, make them think or even just go "hmmm." I recently received a comment from someone who said they "had never thought of it that way." That was extremely satisfying to me, it meant that I had reached someone, made them think or consider something a different way and that's exactly why I write.

OhAine:  Is that how you measure the success of a piece? Or do you have something else you measure it by?

satin_doll: Success to me is simply getting it done! Feedback is lovely, it's wonderful, and I adore it, but if I had to go by that I'd never write another word. In terms of feedback, the stories I would have thought would be well received generally aren't and the ones I think no one will like do fairly well, all things considered. Writing is hard, and I'm a very slow writer. I'm also probably more serious about it than most in the fan fiction realms. Not that I think my stories warrant "serious" consideration, but that the writing of them is a serious act for me. If I'm able to sit down and finish a piece, that's a success as far as I'm concerned. That they get any notice at all is icing on the cake.

OhAine: So I wanted to drill down a bit into some of your stories. Choosing which ones to ask you about was difficult because I have so many questions about your process, but I’ve settled in the end on two that I think are representative of the things you do best; OCs and character examination. Words (part of the Dark Company series) stands out for me as one of your most memorable stories not only because it has an outstanding OC (as all of the Dark series stories do) in the form of Mr P., but because of the very Sherlock way that Sherlock approaches the problem of his feelings for Molly Hooper. Can you tell me a bit about the inspiration for that story?

satin_doll: Sherlock and "feelings" is a notorious problem for writers, I think. Moftiss didn't do us any favors with their approach to the subject. Most tend to depict Sherlock as being clueless about feelings in general, which I understand. But in my universes, he isn't clueless so much as he is averse. Feelings can cause problems, both professionally and personally, so he buries them. But (in my version) he does this consciously. It isn't because he's unaware, it's a choice. Along with that choice come consequences. When he decides that he WANTS to deal with the feelings, he doesn't quite know how because he's never practiced expressing them or communicating on that level. It's like having a muscle that you've barely used; it's weak and it doesn't function properly yet. So, when he decides that he wants to start dealing with the emotional side of his relationship with Molly, what would he do?

My idea was that he would go to an expert in emotional expression for help, at least in the initial approach. Who better to come up with the right words than a poet? In the Dark Universe, Sherlock knows experts in everything. They are his friends, people he has interacted with, who know him and whom he knows and trusts completely. That was the beginning idea. Sherlock goes to one of his friends for help in finding the exact right words to open up the way to moving forward with Molly. Mr. P gives him a little poem that sort of wraps up the problem with the relationship as it is, and gives them both a push in the right direction. Sherlock does this because he is AWARE that he has a weak emotional muscle, not because he doesn't have one. It was like his first excursion to the emotional gym. He had to have help to get started. 

OhAine: And the poem at the end – “How is it that we say so much in our first glance of greeting, Yet our words sit on our tongues like tiny, frozen birds?” – it absolutely kills me.

satin_doll: You can blame my own Mr. P for that. I spent years writing mostly poetry, and though I don't get that "poetic" in most of my fics, I was taught to cut and condense (also a result of writing movie reviews and doing interviews for work), to focus on the exact word or image that would get the point across or get the right response (thank you Semantics 101.) I also love haiku, which I consider the ultimate form of poetry, and distilling the essence of what you want to say into a single image is really good practice for writing of any kind. There is a place for long, flowery descriptives in writing fiction, I suppose, but in the end you have to remember that you're telling a story and you don't want the words to get in the way of that. Simple is always best, in poetry as well as fiction. 

OhAine:  I thought it was interesting that in this story he reached out to her in such a romantic way, yet you managed to still have it happen in a way that’s very much true to their characters. How do you walk that line between showing something that we only ever get the barest of hints of on screen, expanding the characters into places and emotions that we’re not familiar with, yet still keep them true to themselves?

satin_doll: Ah, this is a touchy one. We all have our own versions of Sherlock, of what we think is "in character" for him. Mine is such a mishmash of nearly every incarnation of Sherlock Holmes, going all the way back to the ACD beginnings. There are inconsistencies in those first stories as far as Sherlock's character is concerned, but there are strong consistencies also. What I object to is the reliance on physical habits or traits in place of actual character. Using certain physical attributes portrayed in the series for example (the popping of P in certain words, certain phrases borrowed from the show used over and over, etc.) does nothing to show character. I don't actually rely on the BBC series for my version of Sherlock; mine is a combination of all the Sherlock's I've known over many years. I always start from that. Likewise, you can't confuse the actor with the character, and I see that so very often in fics. 

Molly, on the other hand, is much more difficult because we only have what we see in the BBC series and there's very little of that. So I sort of have to ask some questions that involve my version of Sherlock: What would he be drawn to? What character traits would he find appealing, be able to trust, and why? What would it be about Molly Hooper that Sherlock would want/love? We get little hints in the BBC show, and oddly enough, she does change and grow throughout. I never saw Molly as mousey. I mean, look at what she's doing in the very first minutes we meet her! Look at what her job is! I adored her from those first few brief minutes and I knew that of all the women in Sherlock's life, she would be the one that would appeal to him. So that's the way I write her (mostly; there are a few times I've been a little untrue to Molly, but not many.)

OhAine: It’s obvious that although they’re superficially very different you see them as very much the same beneath the surface. 

satin_doll: Sherlock has always known that he is not like other people; he's not "normal". Molly, on the other hand, was taught that "normal" was something she should aspire to, to be like other people. So she fights her nature - which, to me, would have to be a little dark, otherwise she wouldn't be drawn to Sherlock, she wouldn't have pursued the career she did. In the Dark series, Sherlock is trying to teach her that she doesn't have to deny those inner aspects of herself that are decidedly NOT normal, in order to be happy. No matter how much she tries, "normal" doesn't work out for her. Little by little, they are both learning to accept things they've denied in themselves and they're finding it in their "dark" natures, in the dark around them, which can contain so much knowledge and wisdom if we're willing to explore it - and relief from trying to be something other than who you really are. 

OhAine: And you’ve chosen to do that with OCs that are worthy of canon; Doyle couldn’t have done better in creating a world for modern day Sherlock. They have a vibrancy that’s worthy of a main character, yet you manage to do that without distracting from Sherlock and Molly’s story. How do you find these characters’ and their voices?

satin_doll: I know a lot of weird people. :D 

Seriously, I don't think we have to make up original characters whole cloth. We all know people in our real lives who would make great fictional characters. I take a person I've known (for example: Sean, Sherlock's twin in Mango. I did know a person whose father shot her mother in front of her. I borrowed the incident, added a few traits from other people I know and voila, instant character) and insert them into the story. It's part of what's called "writing about what you know." The more from real life you can insert into your stories, the more realistic and satisfying they are. This goes for plot and description as well as characters. As for making them not take over the story completely, you do that by giving them an emotional tie to the main character but not letting that original character take over the main plot. The inner/outer struggle and emotional growth have to be about your protagonist, your main characters.  

OhAine: That neatly brings me to Down and Shaking When I Think I Lose which is a masterpiece, and something that’s rare these days: an old school character study. You’ve written Season One Sherlock in a way that I haven’t seen done very often and not in a number of years. It’s outstanding because your Sherlock is atypical in a way that Mofftiss sadly abandoned after S2. There’s a line in your story that says, ‘Sometimes he wanted to be worn to nothing,’ that hones in on the cost of being Sherlock. Can you talk a bit about how this story came to be, and what about the canon character formed this version of him in your mind?

satin_doll: You have to understand, I love Sherlock Holmes deeply and have for a very, very long time. To me, he's not just a quirky, interesting character. He's my hero. And I have a thing about heroes.

I see a lot written about Sherlock that portrays him as broken in some way, or as deficient. There's always this underlying assumption that there's something "wrong" with him. Maybe there is, according to the scale by which normal people are judged. But there's another aspect to him that I've never really seen written about: what does he have to give up in order to do what he does? See I don't think he's unaware of how he is. I think he chooses to be that way. Part of that choice is to give up - to literally sacrifice - all those things that other people have as a matter of course: homes, families, relationships, emotional connections. This is part of the Heroic Saga. All heroes must sacrifice in order to be what/who they are. All of them, no exceptions. If they have the capacity to be the Hero, if they choose to go that way, they must sacrifice what the rest of us take for granted. There's a line from a book that I have constantly playing in the back of my head: "Who will do the hard things? Those who can." Sherlock is one of "those who can"; he CAN do the hard things. But always, implied in that, is sacrifice. If you choose to do the hard things, because you can, you must give up everything else. 

There is an episode of Zorro where Diego de la Vega makes the decision to give up being Zorro. He decides he is tired of not having what everyone else has. He wants a home and a family and a relationship with a woman he's fallen in love with. He tells his father what his plans are, and his father, bless him, even though he's an old man, decides that he must take up the mask and become Zorro - because someone has to. Someone HAS to do the hard things. When Diego realizes what his father is doing, and what his father is giving up, and that his father will most likely die as Zorro, they have a long discussion about what being a hero and doing the hard things actually means, how important it is that someone fill that role. Diego makes the decision to continue wearing the mask, to sacrifice everything he thinks he wants, in order to do something he realizes is more important - because he CAN. He will do the hard things, because he can. In my mind (and heart), this is Sherlock. He does what no one else does, what no one else CAN do, because he can. The sad part of all this is that usually, no one else realizes how hard those things are or what sacrifices have to be made in order to do them. The hero gets criticized for not being like other people, they get ostracized, shunned, ridiculed, misunderstood. But they still keep doing it. No matter how frustrating, lonely, terrifying the role is, they keep doing it because they know they can. No matter what they have to give up, they do it. 

I wanted to show that Sherlock has suffered all his life simply because of how he is and what he can do. And he chooses to embrace it, to stay true to himself in spite of everything, because he knows what he can do. It wears on him. It's lonely. It's exhausting. Frustrating. But he knows what he can do, and he does it, despite it all. Because someone has to.

OhAine: It’s funny, but I often think Sherlock’s sacrifice is less of a willing one than he’d have us believe. He says, ‘not my area,’ ‘while fulfilling for others,’… less ‘my mind is a temple’ than ‘I don’t think I can have both, despite the fact that I want both.’ 

satin_doll: Sherlock as hero is my own interpretation, based more on a combination of all the Sherlock's I've been exposed to over many years than on the BBC Sherlock alone. I don't really see all that many stories depicting him as a hero, which I totally understand given that so many discovered him from that series. I don't think Sherlock ever sees himself as a hero or tries to present himself as one to anyone else, but I think he's aware of the sacrifices he's had to make in order to do what he does, even in the BBC version. Otherwise I don't think he'd let anyone into his life at all, let alone work closely with people or consider anyone a "friend" - and yet that's exactly what he does, because he needs some sort of human connection even when he keeps them at a distance. There are a lot of interpretations out there of Sherlock and many many legitimate reasons people see for the way he behaves and what he does. Far be it from me to say that any of them are wrong. But for me, I don't think any hero's sacrifice is all that willing, no matter how aware he/she might be of it. In all of them, when that awareness is depicted, it takes the form of wistfulness when they realize what they've had to give up, to downright misery and attempts not to give up what they see other people having - which always fail. Sherlock is no exception in my universe.

This is where my frustration with Mofftiss comes in. Despite showing Sherlock as the supposed hero, they belittle everything else about him. They never address the facts that Sherlock literally gave up his life to save his friends, that what he does is absolutely extraordinary, in favor of depicting him as simply a social misfit with slightly nefarious motives, who needs to be changed into something resembling their idea of what "human" is. As a result, they have a schizophrenic John Watson, who never quite appreciates Sherlock or what he does despite more than ample evidence, and other characters that rather quickly become caricatures rather than actual characters. 

OhAine: I agree with you that Mofftiss belittle him, mostly through the disrespect of other characters, which really doesn’t happen in the ACD stories, certainly not by those closest to him…Watson, Mycroft... They sort of excused that away by saying ‘this turned out to be an origin story’ when we know that they were trying to convey isolation, but because they were unsuccessful it kinda sorta turned into bullying.

satin_doll: I think it's Benedict's performance more than the writing that makes BBC's version so appealing. He does capture, as much as possible given what he has to work with, Sherlock's dilemma - how to keep those connections with people in his life without letting them get too close. By episode two in series one, I was already starting to really resent the way John careened back and forth between admiration and caring and literally sneering at Sherlock for the way he was. Within minutes in episode two, series one, we have John treating Sherlock like a naughty child, then asking him for money, substituting the word "colleague" for the word friend and then jumping in to join Sherlock on an adventure. It just got worse from there. The BBC version became less about Sherlock and more and more about John's mental struggles, all the while trying to make Sherlock seem to be the one who was unstable and twisted. I know this is an unpopular viewpoint nowadays, so I don't generally say much about it. But it's been a major sticking point with me throughout all four series.

Having said all that about Mofftiss, I still watch all the episodes regularly because a) it's Sherlock Holmes, and b) I adore Cumberbatch's performance. :D

OhAine: Controversial take: I never really believed that Sherlock sacrificed himself for his friends. I think that was a consideration, one that could have been dealt with by Mycroft if he was motivated to, but I think the main reason he left London for two years was for the sheer adventure of it all… (Not true, I don’t think, of his sacrifice for Mary though…)

satin_doll: I can easily see this viewpoint. It could even be said that he left just because the people around him were simply getting too close and he needed a way to sever or lessen those ties before they got out of hand. Personally I don't think it was that simple. In the ACD version, Sherlock is gone for three years, and he's not dismantling anything - he just stays away for that long and travels around the world until he hears that the last remaining Moriarty Minion who wants to kill him is back in London. There's a bit of remorse for leaving John to grieve, but it's quickly resolved. In the Mofftiss version, it feels like a contrived set up; they use the excuse that he's doing it all to protect his friends, but really, I've never bought that between Mycroft and Sherlock they couldn't have come up with a better, easier way to deal with the situation. If they could calculate seventeen outcomes of the meeting on the roof? I mean really? 

OhAine: I’d say moving swiftly along, but neither of us do things swiftly LOL. Anyway. *Moving* along, Bring me my Queen is a stunning piece of storytelling that focuses on Molly this time, and for me it brings together your storytelling strengths in one piece. You’ve obviously drawn on real life experiences with this one, and I wonder how important that is for you? Is it a device, catharsis, processing of the emotions…?

satin_doll: It's probably all of those things. I use the stories and the characters to act out stories from my life, because it's what I know. It helps me to vent and process emotional aspects, but it also gives the characters something real to deal with; it makes them more like real people. At least in my head. It helps express beliefs, process both pain and joy, let people know what I've learned, hopefully touch them in some real way. Stories are to help us deal with real life situations, to communicate and to learn from, as well as give enjoyment and entertain us. Years ago, during a spiritual study, I read something that really struck a chord with me (I even ended up writing an article about it, which I'm sure still exists online somewhere but hell if I can find it now!): Messages from the Universe most often come to us via our favorite form of entertainment. What better way to get through to us or catch our attention than in the form of something we really enjoy? So I look at fanfic, both writing and reading, as a way to be in touch with the Universal Intelligence, a way to learn what life is trying to show me, and a way for the Universe to use me to reach others. 

And after all that, writing stories is the best way to vent that I've ever found. :D

OhAine: I think you’re right. I think the message finds us in a way that we’ll be willing to receive.

satin_doll: Back in the 1990s, I saw a movie in the theater and near the beginning was a line from one of the characters that hit me so hard, on so many levels, that I didn't even remember anything about the rest of the film. I had to see it again in order to see how it all turned out. That one line quite literally changed my life. Since then there have been many other occasions where the things I enjoy the most have contained deep words, phrases, concepts that have had incredible impact and resulted in life changes. I know most people believe that change in our lives  more often comes from pain and tragedy, but  honestly, I don't think that's true. If we pay attention, we more often learn life lessons from joy and pleasure and entertainment - and creativity. It's only when we don't pay attention that the universe has to hit us upside the head with a bat and we have to learn from pain.

OhAine: Change, and messages from the universe, is something that’s a theme in  Mango  which is also a bit of a feminist story because (and correct me if I’m off base) it’s about empowerment and independence: Molly discovering things about herself, by herself, which I thought when reading was almost a parallel for women in writing (particularly fanfiction). How important has writing been for you in developing your understanding of yourself and your own identity as a woman?

satin_doll: I'm not sure I have an answer for this one. Writing has always simply been a part of my life. I write because I can't not write. I think more of my understanding of myself and being a woman came from music, which is a notoriously misogynistic art. I actually had a male musician tell me to my face that I couldn't know that much about music because I'm female. Those were his exact words. I've played in bands with both women and men and the women have always been easiest to work with. I think part of this has to do with men viewing sex as "their area". Sex, to men, is always about them. Women in music, especially rock music, are a lot like women in fanfic, where our own sexuality is seemingly always under attack. It's as if we don't exist unless we're defined by males. I  find this absolutely absurd and hateful. Mango, the song itself, was written expressly to celebrate female sexuality. Molly dancing around the room to that song when she sees Sherlock again after  a year away, is a sort of celebration of her own self-discovery. The dance is her way of honoring herself and her sex. That Sherlock discovers her that way was very fitting, because she leads him into a discovery of his own sexuality as well. I wish more men would wake up to the fact that we can do this.

OhAine: It’s an incredible story, but then so many of yours are, so I wonder is there one of your stories that you're very proud of, or one that you're particularly happy with how the finished piece turned out?

satin_doll: Oddly enough, I don't have a lot of pride connected with my stories once they're finished. I write them and put them out there and then I'm pretty much done with them. There are some I like a little more than others, I guess - Dark I like because it broke something loose in me that apparently I'd been ignoring. I think, if I have any pride about them, it's just that I write them at all. I'm proud of myself for actually sitting down and doing them. If there is one that I would have to say I'm "proud" of, it would be An Avenue Once Bent in Shadow - one that isn't even finished and that is totally unlike any others I've written. I like it because of its intent, which is to highlight and illustrate differences and how those differences are both perceived and dealt with in the world. It sort of takes both Molly and Sherlock to the extreme, and I like that also. It's a challenge. 

OhAine: I think you should be overflowing with pride in your work. You’re gifted. Your stories are beautiful.

satin_doll: Thank you. I suppose a lot of this comes from my childhood and maybe a little bit of misunderstanding on my part about the word "pride". I think I'm more attached and proud of just having the guts to dive into the creative process at all rather than the results of it. But that's just me.

OhAine: Well then getting back to your creative process, tell me about finding a particular character’s voice. Are there things that you do to get you into their heads?

satin_doll: When I was about ten, I wanted to be an actor. This lasted for about three years. I went around trying on characters from movies and television, practicing their expressions and movements and voices. These days I tend to act out the characters in my own stories. If I can feel them physically, feel them in my body and face, I feel like I can write them. Feeling Sherlock turn his head a certain way or have an expression on his face, feeling the way Molly would look up at him or move around the lab - I tend to rely on that to get them in character, or at least how I feel they're in character. I also have to hear their voices in my head. I read all the dialogue out loud and if it doesn't fit - it don't sit. 

OhAine: I read it out loud too, something I learned in Uni. It truly helps, doesn’t it?

satin_doll: I guess there are writers who don't do this, but I don't know how they can get dialogue to work any other way. It's been said about Stephen King's work, by people who have adapted his books into film, that one of the reasons it's so hard to translate his books successfully to scripts is that he doesn't write dialogue the way people normally speak. Supposedly when you read successful dialogue, our brain translates it differently from the way we would hear it if it was spoken aloud. I've never tested this and part of me doesn't believe it. But then, I'm not an expert about any of it. I just know that being able to hear the words out loud makes a difference for me as far as character is concerned. 

OhAine:  What’s the beginning point of a story for you? Are you a methodical planner, or is it purely instinct?

satin_doll: It's purely instinct. I have tried and tried to do it the "professional", by-the-book way, and it's always a disaster. The beginning is usually a mood and it can be inspired by just about anything. Most of the time a story just comes out full blown, beginning to end; it's just there and I write it. I had one story pop into my head while I was doing dishes. I stopped, wiped off my hands, and sat down and wrote the story all at once. Then I went back to doing dishes. I don't have any idea where it came from or what inspired it, it just happened. Most of them are like that. Maybe if I was a planner and methodical about it I'd write better stories! :D But this seems to be the only way I can do it and actually get anything written. 

OhAine:  We can’t talk about fanfiction right now without talking about what’s happening on tumblr / the purge. You’ve been writing online for a good number of years and I’m sure you have a take on it…

satin_doll: Sadly, I've seen this happen over and over since 1993. A space becomes a haven for expression and then suddenly comes under attack for one reason or another by one group or another. Luckily, there will always be somewhere new to go. It's painful and sometimes a long and trying process, but in the words of Mr. Universe: "You can't stop the signal." Someplace new will open up and, for a while at least, free expression will be allowed again. William Gibson, among others, wrote about this very thing, long before the internet was established in our lives. There are always going to be those who try to squash creativity. Unfortunately, being creative doesn't fit into neat little non-offensive boxes the way some want it to. But it will survive. It always has. It's the nature of the beast.

OhAine:  It can’t help but survive given the volume of fan created content that’s out there now, there’s obviously a huge appetite to create it as well as consume. And having that said, do you think fanfiction has become mainstream?

satin_doll: Depends on your definition of mainstream. Everything eventually trickles down into the mainstream. Unfortunately this isn't always a good thing. What passes for fanfiction these days is far different from what it used to be. I won't go into "Back in the Good Ol' Days". But by definition, the mainstream waters everything down, dilutes it. It loses some of its substance. Fan fiction has gotten a lot of attention lately, partly because so much of it has dealt with issues that are in the forefront of our lives, namely sex and identity. The fact that the majority of fanfic writers are women only adds to that. The danger is that the issues could also become watered down, so to speak - diluted - because of becoming "mainstream". Hopefully fanfic will survive the process.

OhAine:  Which is why it’s so important for spaces like AO3 to exist.

satin_doll: I think it's vital to life on this planet. Censorship is one of the great evils of life. AO3 and the OTW are champions of freedom, of every human being's right to expression. I don't care how offensive that expression is, we have to protect the right to it. "I may not agree with what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it." There's a reason those words were written and it's not just about fair play. 

OhAine: "I may not agree with what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it." Should be AO3’s banner, tbh…

satin_doll: The older I get, the more important this has become. Censorship is subtle and insidious and infects societies on so many levels. It's not just some huge noisy machine created by the government; it can be found in very small social groups and cliques as well and results in making people invisible, which is one of the worst punishments humans have ever invented. We see the consequences of this every day in every walk of life. There's a lot to be said about all the different types of censorship that impact our lives. And I agree, that line would make a great banner for AO3. :)

OhAine: I think that’s as good a place as any to wrap thing up! Kat, it’s been an absolute joy, thanks so much for taking the time to answer my questions!

Next Friday, 8th of March, @writingwife-83 talks to @thisisartbylexie

[franklyshipping]

Mind Games (Part 2) ~ A Markiplier (+Abe) Ego Fanfic

People wanted a part two soooo I thought FRICK IT IMMA DO IT BECAUSE I STARTED THINKING ABOUT A REVENGE FIC AS SOO AS I POSTED THE FIRST ONE which you lovely beans can find here aaaaaa LET'S GO!

What constitutes a little while and a long while, and what even is a ''while''? It had been a while since the little occurrence between Wilford and Abe that allowed Abe to discover Wilford's absolute love for being tickled, but the time that had past is a little obscure to figure out. Of course....anything surrounding an ordered past, present and future concerning Wilford Warfstache is bound to go a little sideways and upside-down. I'll say that a little time has passed....yeah, that can be interpreted widely and well. Anyway, it had been a little while. However, during that time, Wilford had just not been able to keep Abe out of his mind. He was a constant part of his thoughts, in one form or another, whether it be in their little mental conversations, or in Wilford's....private fantasy thoughts; he was very careful not to delve into those when he was around Abe though. He was being more cautious, and for a very good reason. Wilford had a plot in mind....a plot of revenge against his handsome detective.

At present, they were cuddling. Ever since Wilford had first initiated it, it had become a regular thing, and it was something that both men enjoyed very much. Sometimes they would ease into their roles of big spoon and little spoon, but on other occasions there would be a battle that ended up with one of them pouting in the other's arms whilst the big spoon grinned smugly. This time, Abe had slipped into being the little spoon immediately, since he'd had a long day of detective work and needed the care; care that Wilford was very happy to provide. Abe was nestled into Wilford's chest and letting out content, deep hums as Wilford softly nuzzled his head and stroked his arm, whilst his other hand lay limp across his waist. They were atop Wilford's lavish double bed which was perfectly comfy and allowed ample space for lengthy snuggle periods. Abe was smiling gently.....things were good.

Abe had had Wilford on HIS mind too. In tickly ways and ways of communication of course, but....in other ways too. Closer ways. Ways that he didn't dare let slip into his mind for fear of embarrassment and humiliating rejection...at least, he kept them hidden for the time being. Right now he was just enjoying the treatment Wilford was giving him, which the moustached man teasingly commented on.

'Your little noises are ever so sweet, methinks I have the magic touch!'

Abe chuckled softly and glanced up at Wilford, there was playfulness dancing in his eyes.

'Oh you certainly do, undoubtedly.'

Abe's voice was smooth and flirty, which made Wilford grin excitedly; they always playfully flirted with one another and it was the most delightful game. The exchanging of smirks, winks, eyebrow raises, purrs and euphemisms were things Wilford always looked forward to doing with Abe. Wilford always felt jittery during those moments, as he felt now as he replied.

'Oh how sweet of you to say so! Say, do you need any magic touches anywhere else?'

Abe very nearly blushed and giggled at that, and he cursed himself for being such a sap to flirting. He composed himself though, despite Wilford's cheeky grin and glinting eyes, and nibbled his bottom lip whilst humming in thought. Wilford couldn't help but let his gaze fall to Abe lips....my oh my did they look soft-SNAP OUTTA IT WARFY JEEZ! Wilford yelled to himself in is head, which thankfully Abe didn't pick up on since he was too busy brainstorming the perfect reply. Wilford's breath hitched a little when he saw a sultry smile slip onto Abe's lips.

'In all honesty, everywhere aches, but especially between my-'

'WOAH THERE YA DIRTY SCAMP!'

Abe was already snickering as Wilford interrupted him dramatically...but then he squeaked, and couldn't stop his giggling, since Wilford had decided to poke him in the side as an extra measure to make sure he didn't finish his naughty sentence. Lets just say....the cheeky, playful aura that was in the atmosphere increased ten-fold in the following few seconds as Wilford processed what had just happened. Abe was tense, and his side was a little tingly....he watched Wilford with trepidation. He gulped when the moustached man developed the MOST excited smirk.

'My.....my......my. Now isn't this just perfect.'

Amidst their flirtations, Wilford had practically forgotten his plan for trapping Abe at his chest and tickling him to pieces as his revenge. It seemed fate wished to jog his memory. Abe let out an, incredibly masculine sounding, yelp when Wilford went to grab at his arms....but he was a fighter. Wilford grunted and growled as he started wrestling Abe, using all his limbs to combat Abe's passionate struggles.

'W-Wilford-wilfORD LET'S TALK ABOUT THIS!!'

Abe yelled, heart pounding as Wilford managed to straddle his legs....now he had the perfect vantage point for getting Abe well and truly pinned down. Abe was pushing at him with all his might, but his cheeks were getting hotter and hotter at the thought of what would be in store if Wilford pinned him-

*I think you mean WHEN I pin you.*

Abe gasped at the growl that resonated in his mind, and shuddered when he saw the most feral, determined expression on Wilford's face; soon enough, Wilford had Abe's forearms pinned at either side of his head. Both of them were softly panting, it had been quite the battle. Despite his slight lack of breath, Abe couldn't help but try to save himself.

'Wilford....W-Wilfy, p-please let me go p-please!'

Wilford blinked a few times in genuine surprise.....was Abe ACTUALLY begging? Wilford let out an aghast little laugh as he replied.

'Begging when I haven't even laid a fingertip on you....you must be ever so ticklish.'

Abe shuddered when that damned words rolled off Wilford's tongue, and he bashfully let himself nod; he knew that only denying it would make him feel unbelievably flustered. He tensed and exhaled shakily when Wilford leant down, going nose to nose with him, and their eyes locked as he purred.

'Now you'll get to know how I felt.....however, I think you'll find me far less merciful that your gentle, kind self.'

Abe's eyes widened.....from his own perspective he DEFINATELY hadn't been gentle or kind when he'd tickled Wilford. Oh boy was he fucked. He flinched and gasped when Wilford snapped his fingers, thus making cuffs appear around Abe's wrists that affixed them to the headboard of the bed. He tugged. Strong. Unbreakable. Abe had no chance of escape. So Wilford gleefully began.

'WILFOHORD! Pleasedon'tdohothihis! Pleheease stahap stapstapstap behefore ihit gohoes too fahar!'

Wilford paid little heed to his words as he let his deft fingers scratch and scribble at his sides, which produced the most wonderful initial squeal before a stream of deep, beautiful giggles filled the room. Wilford couldn't stop smirking as he continued to cheekily flirt amidst his onslaught.

'Goodness me....what deep, sexy giggles you have detective....'

Abe thanked his lucky stars for his manly facial hair because it was, for now, covering the pink hue on his cheeks. Wilford's scribbling was making him wriggle and roll from side to side, and all he could think about was how it was imperative that he didn't let Wilford get the upper hand completely.

'N-Nahahat ahas s-sehexy ahas y-yohohour squeheheaky behegging!'

Wilford was immediately taken aback, blushing deeply as he was suddenly reminded of when he'd been on the receiving end....oh how dare he. How DARE Abe be so bold and cheeky. Wilford managed to bring himself out of his moment of embarrassment, and Abe gulped when he realised that he had probably just made the dumbest decision of his entire career, and indeed life.

'Sorry....what was that?'

Wilford's voice went so deep and so slow that it momentarily hypnotised Abe with terror; but don't worry, for a mere second later the detective had let out a shriek of mirth when Wilford's scratching landed furiously at his shirt covered stomach.

'AHAHA NAHAHAHTHIHING OHOMYGAHAD NAHAHATHIHING!'

Abe's laughter was the definition of booming as its volume very much filled the room; Wilford grinned, finding the fact that Abe was very sensitive on his stomach extremely endearing. He let his fingers dig into the chubby flesh a little, and Wilford cocked his head to the side in mock confusion as he replied.

'What was that? Can ya repeat that for me sweetcheeks?'

Sweetcheeks was the most appropriate nickname now since Abe's powerful blush had surpassed his facial hair and shone like a beacon of flusteredness from his face. Abe had tears brimming in his eyes as he thrashed and bucked, gazing at Wilford desperately.

'ITWASNAHATHING PLEHEHEASE IHI'M SAHAHARRY!!'

At seeing the man's desperation Wilford relented his rougher onslaught, thus sending waves of relief through Abe's nervous system as the torture subsided; though he shivered when Wilford chuckled.

'That's what I thought.'

Abe couldn't bare to look at Wilford's smugness as he caught his breath, but then he tensed when he felt Wilford pushing up his shirt and the detective fully prepared himself for Wilford's drilling digits once more.....but.....harshness was not what Wilford provided. Instead, Abe found himself shivering and giggling as Wilford half-traced and half-rubbed his slightly chubby belly, and not only was it tickly but it was also extremely relaxing.

'Wh-whahat a-a-ahare yohou doing?'

Abe stuttered, tentatively looking up at Wilford who merely grinned playfully.

'Just giving you a little kindness before I go back to torturing you! I must say, your torso is most magnificent with masculine energy and feel, and it is delightfully soft to the touch...'

When Wilford trailed off, Abe felt breathless.....that....those words....actually really meant a lot to him. Abe had forgotten how self conscious he usually was of his stomach, because of it's squishiness and hairiness, but feeling Wilford's teasy, unwavering touch made all that insecurity absolutely fuck right off. Wilford's soft fingers eagerly stroked and ran through the dark hair, all the way from his waist, up his wide happy trail, over his navel, and above it where the hair swirled in all sorts of different directions. Abe had often seen it as....unsightly, to put it gently, but Wilford thought it was marvellously beautiful.

'I-.....I....th-thahank yohou....'

Wilford's gaze flicked back from Abe's tummy to his face, and his very core melted when he saw how bashful and happy he was from this delicate treatment. Wilford had sensed the insecurity that Abe felt, but had also felt it diminish when he'd started touching him....and Wilford was overjoyed that HE was the one to make Abe feel so comfortable in himself. He suddenly smiled mischievously, leaning down, and he started to peck gentle kisses over the beautiful belly before him.

'You're most welcome....now, will you help me out and mayhaps tell me where else you're ticklish?'

Wilford's voice had a gentle, playful lilt to it that made Abe giggle more, or perhaps it was the teasy kissing that did that.....either way, Abe was encased in giggles. The detective nibbled his bottom lip, and stammered back just as playfully.

'N-Nohohowhehere....'

Wilford raised a sudden eyebrow as he flicked his gaze up to Abe, administering a kiss just above his belly button as he whispered.

'Oh.....are you quite sure darling?'

Abe let out a little squeak at the navel kiss, and despite knowing what his fate would be, he nodded as he replied.

'Y-Y-Yehehes yehehes!'

Abe tried to sound imploring and genuine....but really, who could possibly believe that? Wilford certainly didn't as he leant away from Abe's stomach, just so he could rear up and lean right over Abe, so he could add a little more tension. Needless to say, Abe tensed up greatly when Wilford replied in a teasing purr.

'Oh really? So if I went for your knees and cute feet you wouldn't react at all?'

Mortification. That was the expression that spread across Abe's face right now. He was in complete shock and starting to shiver at the mere mention of those ticklish spots, how the hell had Wilford even known? He'd never told him, hell Abe had never told ANYBODY or even let himself let on about those weak spots-oh. Of course. The thing that had started this whole chain of events in the first place. Damned mind-reading. Wilford smirked as he shuffled down Abe's body and turned his back on him, whilst Abe started giggling in terrified anticipation.

'W-Wihilford w-wahait waitwaitwait c-c'mohon we can work thihis out like g-gentlem-EHEHEHEN!!' 

There were two sets of laughter. One was Wilford's gleeful, over-the-top attempt at a villainous laugh, whilst Abe's was incredibly frantic and for once....beautifully high pitched; it was out of control, and Wilford thought it was perfect. Wilford felt it prudent to say so to Abe as he mercilessly, and relatively harshly, scratched behind his knees.

'Oh what beautiful, desperate laughter you have! Tickle tickle tickle Abey-boo!'

Abe tossed his head from side to side, as if he was trying to impair his own hearing so he didn't have to listen to Wilford's flustering teasing. He heard it well enough though, as well as Wilford's own laughter...which Abe felt himself focus on. Although it was intended to be comedic, Abe found his mind focusing on it and finding it really very cute and nice. Did Abe express this in a kind way though....noooope. 

'FAHAHAHAHACK OHOHOHOHOHOFF!!'

Abe cried out, making Wilford gasp indignantly and start pinching the backs of his knees as a little punishment. Well, it was little from Wilford's perspective, but perhaps not for Abe since he'd started howling with laughter as Wilford spoke.

'Why now how rude, though I'm not surprised, you seem to have lost quite a bit of your decorum! It must be so much worse not being able to see my fingers at work....'

Abe let out a wail to signify that yes Wilford it was so much fricking worse that he couldn't see where Wilford's goddamn tickling fingers would strike next; it made Abe feel so much more like the vulnerable victim he truly was right now. Abe's fiery sarcasm flew out of him in his reply though, and his expression was quite hilarious with his wide eyes and raised bushy brows.

'YAHAHAHA THIHIHIHINK?!?!'

Wilford couldn't help but turn back to glance at Abe and giggle softly....even now he was sassy. It was utterly remarkable. Wilford responded with similar attitude in his tone and a sparkle in his eyes.

'You know I do actually! Many think I don't, but I do enjoy thinking....and methinks now it's time for our DAZZLING piece de resistance!'

Abe let out a defeated whimper, resigned to his fate and focusing on taking in air as Wilford shifted once more.....right down to sit on his ankles. Fuck. Yup. This was it. This was the end.

'Ohoho s-stahars have mehercy....'

Those were the last proper coherent words that Abe uttered for a little while, for as soon as Wilford's devilish fingers touched his feet....all was lost in terms of sass and cheek, for Abe anyway.

'Oooohhh look at those toes wiiiiggle, and oh that delightful hysteria! It is the most beautiful symphony!' 

Wilford spend time on Abe's feet. Scritching at his heels in circles to make Abe squawk and gasp in his laughter, single finger wiggles up and down his inner arches to make him squeal and beg beautifully, as he was now.

'PLEHEHEHEHAHAHA MEHEHEHERCY MERCYMERCY AHAHAHAHA!!'

Abe swore that he'd never been tickled like it, it was like everything on his body was on fire with electricity, teasing his lungs and vocals to produce mirth like nothing else. And boy was he in mirth. Wilford almost thought Abe would break the cuffs with how much he was tugging, it was honestly impressive; Wilford grinned as he scribbled the balls of his feet and purred.

'Oh but you're a big strong bear Abe, I'm sure you can handle a liiiittle more....'

Abe was heavily inclined to disagree, but his heart pounded at the thought of punishment if he vexed Wilford.....so he cackled loud with mouth agape. Thus was the reaction he also gave when Wilford played around with his toes, and believe me when I say that Wilford adored it all. But he was looking for one final thing....he wanted his detective to scream.

'NONONO IHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAAAAN'T!!'

Abe was hoping that somehow, he'd be able to endure. Somehow, Wilford would tire of him....but he never did. Wilford seemed to genuinely get more and more excited and enthusiastic as the tickling went on, and for Abe that was the most flustering thing of all. Abe's mind was going wild, because surely now he was hysterical there was nothing more left for him to give? He was laughing as loud as his body could muster so it surely couldn't get any worse.....oh boy was he wrong.

'Sorry.....but I can't stop until hear ya scream.'

A single finger, in the very centre of each of Abe's soles....scratching that one focal point of each foot. That gave Wilford what he wanted. Abe hadn't even known this was even a bad tickle spot on him; well, you learn something new everyday.

'AAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA STAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!'

Abe wasn't even in control of anything anymore....it was just the mirth. Just the mirth. Wilford was enthralled that someone could have such a bad tickle spot, he had his lips parted in slight awe as he watched Abe scream shrilly with laughter. It was stunning madness.

'Beautiful....'

Wilford whispered under his breath as he focused on Abe's face, his desperate expression, fiery cheeks, matted hair, his eyes filled with falling tears. It was like a paradise.....for one of them.

'PLEEHEHEHEEEE-'

That was it....Abe's voice....gone. He had reached the point of silent laughter, and that's what brought Wilford out of his dazed admiration. Not only did the silence in reality bring him out of his trance....but the potent communication in his mind made him realise it was time for mercy.

*PLEASE I'LL DO ANYTHING!*

Wilford stopped the tickling, placing his palms on Abe's soles to initiate a sense of soothing as Abe whimpered and gasped. Anything. Wilford nibbled his bottom lip with a little grin....he had an idea. Thankfully, Abe's recovering state meant he had not the energy to read Wilford's thoughts. That was good. It meant it would be the most pleasant surprise. Wilford slid back over Abe's body as he gazed at him, carefully lying on top of him as the detective's chest rose and fell with his deep breaths.

'.....anything?'

Abe was blinking and swallowing and breathing, registering that it was over, truly. He still tingled all over which kept him smiling, and all in all he felt pretty good considering his earlier legitimate screams. He looked up at Wilford, his soft spoken query for some reason making something flutter in Abe's chest....after all that....what could he possibly want? Abe's curiosity took over as he licked his dry lips.

'.....y-yeah.'

There was....a moment between them. Neither of them were really thinking. It was neutral ground, no premonitions, no preluding, this was untouched territory that Wilford Warfstache was about to launch into. He was going to free and take care of Abe no matter his response to his request.....but he was hoping, more than anything, that he would feel the same. Wilford snapped his fingers, making the cuffs binding Abe disappear, before mumbling.

'Kiss me.'

Abe jumped when the cuffs disappeared.....but his shock meant that he didn't lower his arms. Wilford wanted to....Wilford felt.....that? It was a tense few moments for them both, Wilford felt his heart pounding with his anxiety as he purposefully tried to stay out of Abe's mind; he wanted this to happen honestly and....for real. And I'm pleased to say, it did. Abe broke out into a delighted, cheeky grin, wrapping his arms round Wilford's neck and tugging him down for a warm kiss. They both giggled, teeth clashing a few times as they found their rhythm, but soon they were kissing like the other person was the only person they'd ever kissed before. Wilford, of course, was ecstatic with joy. Abe couldn't stop giggling into Wilford's lips, he felt so giddy that this was actually happening....and his heart leapt with the knowledge that they both had feelings for each other. They broke away eventually, both grinning and blushing with bright eyes. Abe whispered.

'Was y-your uh....revenge satisfactory?'

Wilford chuckled at Abe's bashfulness, and he stroked the man's cheek as he nodded. his tone of voice in his reply was both smug, and extraordinarily loving.

'Oh it certainly was, in fact I'd say it surpassed the realms of satisfaction!'

Abe tilted his head to the side out of embarrassment, it seemed that this genuine flirting flustered him far more that the banterous flirting of the past; Wilford adored him all the more for it. That adoration only peaked more when a soft question came from Abe's, most inviting, lips.

'Can we.....keep kissing?'

Wilford didn't even speak, he just kissed him. Wilford cupped Abe's face as Abe playfully hooked his legs round Wilford's waist, playfully trapping him on top of him. There would be the occasional nip at a bottom lip, or a pinch at a bottom as they implicitly battled to take charge.....but eventually it transpired that they were truly the perfect equals. Kisses and giggles and cuddles all day long.....dammit I'm jealous, but then again who the hell wouldn't be?  

WOOOOOO HOPE YOUS LIKE THIS PART 2 LEMME KNOW IF YA DO WOOP LUV YOUS XX

[itsmarianstories]

✨🔍Focus🔎✨

Boxer Jungkook, Dancer Jimin

2. Part: Jimin visits Jungkooks fight for the first time

A/N: I’m so done right now... I had this all already edited and this whole post finished when my laptop collapes and now I have to do everything again. I’m not gonna edit this chapter a second time sorry, now you gotta keep up with my mistakes :’) Also this can probably be read seperately? I think? Though it would make more sense to read the first part first. Anyways it’s not as long as the first part but therefore there will be a third part ;)

Word count: 4.594

Focus.

Un, deux, trois, quatre

Glissade, assemble, sous-sus, pirouette

His body drumming in tension, all muscles working and keeping his every move under total control. No finger is moving in a way it's not supposed to.

He is drilled to perfection, by his mother, his teacher and himself. It's what he did for all his life. Flying through the air, looking almost weightless and light, although his feet hurt, his legs burn and his lungs beg for air. A smile is plastered on his lips, keeping up the mask. Like a statue, strong, perfect, cold.

His eyes are fixed in the huge mirrors that cover the three walls in this studio, watching his own moves like a hawk. Everyone else, including his teacher has already left but he prefers it like that. The hours where he has the studio completely for himself are the best, he can completely focus on himself, he has all the space he wants and he can dance the way he wants.

He loves ballet, it's his passion, what keeps him going on some tough days but sometimes it's also what pushes him down. When he can't get a certain move right, or when his emotions are too overwhelming to push them down behind that mask of perfection. On those days he likes to blast his favourite songs and just let lose, close his eyes and move to the beat.

However, not today. In two weeks they have their showcase and Jimin performs in four pieces. Two group performances, one duet and one solo. They are already practicing for this showcase for almost a year now and although Jimin knows the sequences by heart now, there are still parts which are not perfect yet.

There will be critics at the show and if Jimin is good enough he might be allowed to choreograph his own pieces, get his own group and teach a class. Actually he doesn't really want to teach a class, he knows no one would want to train under him. Jimin is a perfectionist and he would drill his students to the absolute highest level, even he himself can't meet his standards so how could others?

The music stops and Jimins body stills. Well, more or less. His chest his heaving with heavy breaths and his legs tremble slightly. Sweat his running down his skin, literally everywhere, his arms, legs, neck, spine, forehead.

Jimin stared at himself in the mirror for a few seconds before he went to the corner where he left his stuff. He grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from his face and neck. Deciding that it was enough he grabbed his things and quickly went to the shower. After cleaning his body he threw a quick glance at the time.

Jungkooks fight is in two hours, it will take Jimin probably about 40 minutes to get to the address so he should get home soon to get ready.

He isn't really sure what that is, this evening. Like, is it a date? A meeting between friends? Just a dude watching another dude fight?

Nonono, Jimin get a hold of yourself. The way Jungkook pressed you against your own wall in your own entryway definitely wasn't a moment between 'dudes'. This has to mean something, right? Right?!

The dancer sighed while pulling the hood of his sweater over his head. After that incident a few days ago he stopped taking the shortcut to his apartment which means his way home will take almost 20 minutes instead of 10. It's annoying but Jimin never wants to experience something like that ever again. He can't imagine what would have happened if Jungkook hadn't passed by coincidentally. Or if he hadn't been nice enough to actually stop and bother beating those guys up for him.

He is pretty sure Jungkook expected a girl, considering his reaction when he saw Jimins face. Who can blame him, it's not a situation that many young men find themselves in.

A few days ago he had read a story about corrective rape but couldn't imagine it really being a thing. Like why would you want to fuck someone you are disgusted by? It doesn't make sense but he figured that most horrible things don't make sense.

Thinking about that while walking home alone isn't really helping so he falls into a slow run, trying to get home as quickly as possible.

Once home Jimin quickly changes, does his hair and may or may not apply a hint of make-up, just on his eyes and lips.

He quickly texted Tae to let him know he was ready and waited for the knock on his door. Slipping on his sneakers, checking his phone, key and wallet he opened the door.

“Hey loverboy, ready?” Tae grinned at him and Jimin smacked his shoulder.

“Shut up!” He mumbled, feeling the blush creep onto his cheeks. They left the building together and called for a cab. Jimin fiddled with the hem of his oversized jacket. He didn't like to admit that he was nervous. Obviously because of the fight. He had no idea what to expect and the way Jungkook sounded while texting he was a bit worried about Jimin being there. That's why Tae is here after all.

“I can't believe you made me do this!” His best friend said.

“Not only are you dragging me to a box fight, though you know fairly well how much I dislike violence! You also make me third wheel at your date!”

“It's not a date.” Jimin contradicted.

“Shut up it is a date. You may deny it and that Jungkook guy may be too dense to realize it, but I know.” Jimin rolled his eyes.

“Right. I forgot you are the human version of Cupid.” Tae winked at him and Jimin shrugged him off.

They arrived at the location soon later and Jimin gulped when he saw the big old brick building. People where lingering around on the street, holding plastic cups with beer, smoking cigarettes (or smth like that? He wasnt so sure) and talking casually. Most of them men, men who resembled thos guys who attacked him a few days ago in a frightening way. Suddenly he regretted putting on make up and wearing a jacket without hood to hide his pink hair. Might as well write “gay and proud" on his forehead.

Tae was right next to him and although he didn't like violence at all he looked more intimidating, being tall and build with a red bandana in his hair.

Jimin is really questioning his sanity right now. What made him think wearing a pink bomber jacket with transparent stripes on the arms was a good idea?

They passed a few groups on their way inside and so far no one really paid them any mind but as soon as they entered the hall heads started to turn in their (his) direction. Jimin wondered whether he should text Jungkook that he was there now but he didn't want to distract or bother him before his fight so he decided against it.

He overheard a few people talk when they passed them by.

“Do you think he will win again?”

“Nah he is too young. The other one has way more experience.”

“I don't know man he is a pretty good fighter. He won almost every fight until now.”

“He is trained by Agust D right?”

“Yeah, he's his best student.”

Jimin didn't exactly know why, but the things those guys said made him feel proud. Hm, weird.

The inside of the building kinda resembled a really small theatre. The ring was in the middle like a stage and chairs were circling it in long rows, only interrupted by a few aisles.

“Do you want to drink something?” Tae asked but Jimin shook his head.

“I'm good. I'll go get us seats.” He said. Tae nodded and left to the bar, leaving Jimin alone in the mass. The dancer turned and searched for two free seats, preferably somewhere in the front. He is small and he wants to see after all. People gave him looks when he passes them and he saw at least two or three who looked disgusted. It made Jimin shrink in himself, trying to disappear in his jacket. He lowered his eyes, not looking anyone in the eye and possibly offend them.

He found two seats in the second row and quickly made his way over there. He took his phone out in case Tae texts him about the seats when he noticed someone sitting down next to him, on the seat that was for Tae.

Jimin looked up and saw a man, bald with a white beard covering his double chin. He looked (and smelled) sweaty, wearing a black ACDC shirt and a cold chain around his neck. He looked like he jumped right out of a movie as cliché as it was. The man stared at him and Jimin gulped. This can't mean anything positive.

“U-Uhm...” He started, wanting to tell the man that the seat was taken but he was cut off.

“You know princess, this is not a cosmetic studio.” He snarled, his breath reeking of beer and cigarettes. Jimin wanted to snap back, put him in his place, telling him to fuck off and that 'no shit Sherlock, actually I expected someone to come and give me a manicure' But since the incident in that alley and being the small boy that he is, it would be so easy for the other to manhandle him.

Jimin didn't know why but Jungkook popped up in his mind and somehow it gave Jimin a hint of braveness. He didn't want to be the clichéd small baby boy who can't do anything for himself, who clings onto his sugar daddy, pouts his plumb lips and cries when he doesn't get what he wants. He is strong and independent and he can take care of himself for fucks sake. (It may also help a little that there are so many people around, this dude will probably not do anything in front of so many will he?)

Jimin didn't want to provoke him unnecessarily so he simply stated that “Sorry, this seat is taken.” And he was proud when his voice didn't shake.

“What are you doing here, huh? Do you even know what this here is?” Jimin sighed internally and rolled his eyes.

“A drama staging?” It slip out too quickly for Jimin to hold back and he saw the nostrils of the man flare and how his lips were pressed in a thin line. Oh this is not good.

“Go home princess. Play with your dolls and let the real men do their things.” He growled and Jimin wanted to tell him that the dick between his legs showed that he was indeed a 'real' man but he figured that would cross a boarder he didn't want to see the other side off.

“Why is it bothering you if I just quietly sit here and watch the fight? I'm not contagious you know.” Jimin said, trying to keep all the anger and annoyance out of his voice. The man didn't know what to answer to that, his mouth opened and closed again like a fish on the dry.

Tae chose to come back in that very moment, standing tall over the man and radiating a dangerous atmosphere, which is funny if you know what a clingy teddy bear Tae usually is. But now he was obviously pissed and it probably helped that his voice is naturally deep and rich for it made it sound more intimidating when he said

“I think you are sitting on my seat.” The man looked up at him, then at Jimin and back up at Tae until he grumbled something in his beard, took a sip from his beer and finally left.

“Are you okay?” Tae asked when he took the seat the man left just now. Jimin nodded with a smile.

“Yeah, I guess it's my own fault for, you know, dressing like this.” He said with a smile.

“What are you talking about? You have every right to dress in whatever way you please. Their stinky asses are just jealous of your confidence.”

“Pfft, what confidence?” Jimin scoffed. Tae wrapped and arm around his shoulders but didn't say anything because he knew that way Jimin would think about it way more. And before they could talk about it any further spotlight switched on and drowned the ring in yellow. A small man appeared with a microphone in hand. He greeted everyone and asked them to go to their seats. It became quiet real quick and the man in the ring started to announce the fighters, talking about their weight and previous fights and he was basically screaming everything. Probably to hype up the crowed but Jimin thought it was a rather primitive way to do. Yet, it seemed to work and Jimin couldn't say he was surprised.

After a few minutes the first fighter entered the ring. The crowed cheered and whistled and the man raised his fists as if he was bathing in the praise. The fighter was probably about 180 cm tall and build, wearing nothing but the lose shorts and gloves on his hands. He was laughing confidently and Jimin hoped that Jungkook would wash the dirty smug of his face. Something about the attitude and the atmosphere of this guy made Jimin uncomfortable. There was another man walking behind him, carrying a towel and a bottle of water, probably something like his assistant? Jimin had no idea.

The man with the microphone started talking again, now about Jungkook and Jimin couldn't help but pay a little more attention. He hyped him up just as much, talking about how great he his for his young age and how many fights he has already won. Jimin was nervous.

And then Jungkook entered. Instead of enjoying the crowds cheers he simply walked towards the ring, his body hidden by a black silk robe and his face covered by a hood. Jungkook had someone carrying a towel and bottle as well, a small rather slim man with silvery hair. Other than the first boxer, however, Jungkooks assistant(?) Was walking beside him, an arm behind his back a bit like a bodyguard and he was whispering things to Jungkook. Jimin wondered what it might be but it was way too loud and he was too far away to eavesdrop.

Jungkook entered the ring as well and finally got rid of the robe, handing it to the man with silver hair. Jimins mouth fell open. Sure he knew Jungkook had a nice body from when they slept on the same bed or their little “moment" in his entryway but seeing it like this in its full glory was... different.

His muscled were toned, obvious poking out under his tanned skin. The light of the spotlights made him glow and Jimin honestly just wanted to lick his abs Jesus Christ.

Jimin noticed how Jungkooks eyes started to wander over the auditorium, searching for something. Or rather someone. His heartedbeat picked up and suddenly his palms became strangely sweaty. Jimin gulped and took a shaky breath. Damn shit why was he so nervous all of a sudden?

He watched as Jungkooks eyes scanned the crowed and came nearer and nearer towards him and then his eyes landed on him and their gazes locked and Jimin could swear that for a few heartbeats long the whole room was empty except for them both and it was deafeningly silent. Jimin held his breath when a small smile spread on Jungkooks lips. He could hear his own heart beat loudly in his hears and he lifted his hand for a small subtle wave which caused Jungkooks smile to become bigger. Jimin smiled back and then the silvery haired man petted Jungkooks back, asking for his attention. The boxer ripped his eyes away and turned to his assistant who continued to tell him whatever.

Jimin finally released the breath he was holding and noticed that Tae was staring at him.

“I feel dirty.” His best friend said.

“Huh?”

“It was like watching a live porno. Seriously you still have drool on your chin.” Tae teased, acting as if he was wiping it away with his sleeve. “Disgusting.” He muttered and Jimin pushed him away, smacking his hand from his face.

“Shut up!” He snapped, face burning.

Moments later the fight began and Jimin could see an immediate switch in Jungkooks attitude. He was concentrated, focused on nothing but his opponent. He observed the others movements, studying him and waiting for him to make the first move.

Jimin had no idea about boxing but even he could see the difference between those two fighters. Jungkooks opponent still looked rather cocky, grinning and looking at Jungkook like he was a small boy. However, that grin faltered after Jungkook dodged the first hit.

As a dancer Jimin knows what a focused body looks like, he can see the tension, the control over every muscle. It’s a bit as if Jungkook would dance, dance around his opponent, provoking him and irritating him. And it's working. The other fighter became more and more reckless with how much angrier he became. It was somehow funny to watch.

After a few minutes Jungkook finally started to hit back. His movements were so quick and smooth, it reminded Jimin so much of ballet it was fascinating. He never really associated with this sport before getting to know Jungkook so he had no idea what to expect. He always thought boxing are just to men beating each other down but what Jungkook was doing in that ring right now was a profession. Jimin could see the training, the sweat and ache he invested to get this kind of control. It made Jimin feel so much closer to Jungkook because he basically felt the passion Jungkook had towards his sport. It’s the same passion he has for his own and ain’t gonna lie, that’s a huge turn on.

The fight continued with both fighters landing a few good hits and every time Jungkooks face or stomach connected with the opponents glove, Jimin jumped slightly and clenched his hand harder around the armrest of his chair. Yes, he was in awe over Jungkooks fighting, but that doesn't mean he didn't worry about him.

Jimin couldn't say how long the fight actually lasted, for him the time flew and crept at the same time but when Jungkook landed a good hit against his opponents temple the man finally went down. The crowed cheered and watched excitedly if the boxer will get ip again but ten seconds passed and he was still on the ground. A loud ring sounded through the hall and Jungkook raised his hands over his head triumphantly, grinning and rotating to look at the crowed. His eyes, again, landed on Jimin and they beamed at each other before the man with the microphone appeared again, ending the fight and announcing Jungkook as the winner. The silver haired guy hopped in the ring, a huge gummy smile on his face as he pulled Jungkook in a hug and handed him towel and water bottle. It was cute to watch them interact because Jungkook looked at the man with so much fondness and admiration, relishing in the praise like a child who proudly showed off a good grade to his parents.

They left the ring together and the crowed cheered again. People were petting Jungkooks back in congrats as he walked back to the changing rooms.

Earlier that day Jungkook had told Jimin were it would be best for him to wait until Jungkook would be ready after the fight so now Jimin jumped up and pulled Tae along. Out of the building and around it just as Jungkook had described, to get to the backdoor where Jungkook would leave through. He was nervously jumping up and down, while Tae was leaning on the brick wall with his arms crossed in front of his chest, growling things about “euphemizing violence" when the door opened.

Jimin basically jumped into Jungkooks arms. The younger let out a surprised noise but was quick to smile and wrap his arms around Jimin.

“Wow what did I do to deserve this enthusiastic greeting?” He chuckled. Jimin pulled back slightly and looked up at him.

“Duh, win the fight obviously.” He answered. Tae scoffed next to them, causing Jungkook to look into his direction.

“Oh right, Jungkookie this us Tae, Tae this is Jungkookie.” Jimin introduced them.

“Oh hi, you must be the platonic soulmate.” Jungkook said and extended his hand but Tae only narrowed his eyes at him until Jimin stabbed him in the side with his elbow in a silent 'be nice!' Tae rolled his eyes and finally took Jungkooks hand.

“Yeah, hi.” Jimin sighed at that.

“Give us a second.” He said and pushed Tae around the next corner.

“Tae why are you being mean?” He wanted to know.

“I'm not being mean, I'm being suspicious. He is a boxer Jiminie, violence and fighting is a daily thing for him. I just don't want you to get hurt.”

“Jungkookie would never hurt me, ever! He saved me, I can't believe we are even talking about that!”

“That he saved you doesn't mean he can't ever lose control. What if you have a fight some day and his 'hand slips', huh? You don't know this guy but you are already acting as if you two know each other for years.”

“I know him better than you do!” Jimin almost yelled. His best friend opened his mouth again but Jimin hold up his hand to shush him.

“Tae, I love you but you are being unfair, right now. You always talk about not judging books after their cover but now you are doing exactly that just because you dislike violence and he is a boxer. I think it's best of you go home for today and once you got over your prejudices you will see how sweet he is.”

“Jiminie-" Tae said, taking a step forwards but Jimin shook his head.

“No, just go home.” Tae sighed but eventually listened. Once he was out of sight Jimin turned and went back to Jungkook who was awkwardly standing where he had left him.

“Sorry, about that.” Jimin said sheepishly.

“It's alright, he us only worried about you. That's a good thing.” Jungkook said but Jimin rolled his eyes.

“He is acting like a mom and there is nothing to worry about anyway.” Jimin said. They made their way away from the building. It was silent for a while until Jungkook opened his mouth again.

“Jimin, I'd never let my hand slip.” He said seriously and Jimin smiled up to him, taking his hand.

“I know.”

They went in a small restaurant and ordered so may dishes, Jimin had no idea how they should possibly finish all that. They talked about everything and nothing for a while, making silly jokes and giggling into their hands to not disturb the other customers. One time Jungkook made a joke while Jimin took a sip from his drink and it caused him to choke. He had coughed and blushed furiously but Jungkook had stared at him with so much affection and tenderness it made Jimins heart bloom.

“You were really cool tonight, by the way.” Jimin said at one point and the beam Jungkook gifted him with was worth all the uneasiness and trouble he felt earlier when he had first entered the old gym hall.

“Thank you!”

“You like boxing very much, don’t you?” Jimin said and Jungkook tilted his head to one side.

“Yeah, I guess, why?”

“No, it’s just… I could see it. The passion you have, you know? I think it’s why you were so superior to your opponent. He was fighting to impress others, you are fighting for yourself.” Jimin mumbled but blushed when he noticed Jungkooks intense gaze. “Ah, sorry, I don’t know if that made any sense… I just-“

“No, it’s fine, you are right. I’m just surprised you could see this, even though you aren’t familiar with boxing.” Jimin shrugged.

“I think on some level boxing is pretty similar to dancing. You need the same control over your body, the tension, the knowledge how to move…” Jimin explained and for a few moments they stared at each other in silence.

“Wow, usually people think boxing is just about how is the strongest and has the harder hits. The only one I can talk to about boxing like this is my coach. You don’t know what a turn on it is that you sit here and casually talk about boxing like you did it all your life.” Jungkook murmured and Jimin blushed, biting his lip. Usually he would avert his eyes and stare at the ground in embarrassment but now there is something between them that makes Jimin feel save. So instead of feeling shy, he feels excited. He used that to be a little bold, leaning over to Jungkook and whispering

“You don’t know what a turn on it was seeing you in that ring, all naked and sweaty.” Jungkooks eyes widened and Jimin could see how his pupils dilated.

“You know, it would only be fair if I could see you dancing too now.” Jungkook said.

“My studio actually has a showcase in two weeks, if you really want to I can get you a ticket.” Jimin said, blush still prominent on his cheeks. It’s not that he is embarrassed about his dancing, he knows he is good at what he is doing, but knowing that Jungkook will be there watching him was… exciting.

After they finished their food they took a walk through the city. Jimin always liked taking walks through the night but he didn’t do it since he moved to the city because he never felt save enough, but now with Jungkook by his side it was like mothing could ever hurt him again.

The taller had an arm securely around Jimins shoulders, keeping him close and Jimin had snuggled into his side, enjoying the warmth that radiated off of Jungkooks body.

“Jimin?” Jungkook said at one point and Jimin hummed, signalling him to keep talking.

“Is this… like uh… was… was this a date?” Jimin couldn’t help but smile at how adorably nervous Jungkook sounded. He looked up at him and stood on his tip toes to press a kiss on the boxers cheek.

“I hope so.”

Jimin didn’t know for how long they paced through the dimly lit streets but after a while they ended up in front of his apartment building. He didn’t want Jungkook to go but he also didn’t want to rush things.

“I had fun tonight. Thank you for letting me see this.” Jimin said. Jungkook shook his head with a smile.

“Thank you for coming.” They smiled at each other and before Jimin could react Jungkook had leaned in and pecked his lips once, twice. After the third time Jimin grabbed his collar and pulled him in to kiss him properly. He felt Jungkook smile against his lips and bit it playfully, tugging on it and running his tongue over it afterwards. Jimin pulled back with a grin when Jungkook groaned.

“You are evil.” The younger said and Jimin shrugged amused.

Jungkook left after another few kisses and soft ‘goodnight’s.

[s-ound-wave]

I just finished NDRV3 last night (a bit late I know) so bear with me because I have a theory that’s probably already been done to death but -

So everything Tsumugi said was a lie. Well, nearly everything. She (and Team DGR) did implant new memories into the 15 characters, and they possibly weren’t ultimates. They also weren’t heading into space, there was potentially no meteors, that entire backstory is a lie. In fact, everything from the Flashback Lights we can rule as a lie, unless cross referenced with something else (that’s not Tsumugi’s own testimony, I’ll get to her in a bit). That’s pretty much the entire game chucked out.

Except...

a. Prologue:

 Kaede refers to herself as Kaede Akamatsu. Shuichi, likewise, refers to himself as Shuichi Saihara.

Obviously, given what we’re told by the game about Rantaro, he’s the only one who seems to know what’s going on, that it’s a Killing Game. An interesting point is that he asks ‘who is behind all this’, either suggesting that the 52nd game was drastically different, or that his Killing Game was under much different circumstances than we’ve been led to believe. 

The personalities aren’t all that drastically different. Miu is still foul mouthed, for example. 

Kaede trues several times to ask the Monokubs something, ‘If you guys are the Monokubs, then-‘, presumably asking where Monokuma is. Her sprite while she says this is her shocked one, with sweat on her face and mouth slightly open. It’s not really the face of someone who voluntarily joined up. Neither is how her and Shuichi claim to have gotten there, before the first Flashback Light - being thrown into a car by weird men. 

This is followed up by the Monokubs changing the topic to Ultimate Talents, which Kaede responds that she has a skill she has a skill she devotes herself to, but that she wouldn’t call it an Ultimate Talent. This is said while her sprite is in the ‘crossing arms and looking down’ pose, looking rather crestfallen or concerned. It’s a bit of a stretch, but I’m going to say that this interaction implies that Ultimate Talents exist in this world. 

 Monotaro gives the game away by saying ‘See, according to the backstory, there’s this Ultimate Hunt goin’ on.’ I’m half tempted to ignore everything the Monokubs and Monokuma say, considering I’m not sure how much of it is regular Danganronpa 4th wall breaking and how much is meant to be hints at Tsumugi’s claims at the end. He does say something interesting, claiming that ‘The first thing we need you guys to do is remember your true selves’. Monophanie backs this up by saying ‘need to reclaim your sealed talents’. Both of these could be for the fictional audience’s benefit, if we take what Tsumugi says at face value. 

Kaede’s reaction to Monokid saying there’s going to be a killing game is a shocked sprite, and, in her thoughts ‘K-Killing Game...?’. Again, not really the actions of someone who signed up for a Killing Game willing. 

This is everything usable in the prologue, as far as I’m aware.

b. Chapter Six Trial

There’s no reason for there to be so many discrepancies between the characters’ memories and the canon events of the first two games. Tsumugi is portrayed as some uber fan, why would she settle for less than perfect? The justification that Tsumugi gives is flimsy at best.

Tsumugi, as Makoto Naegi, says ‘If what I said is the truth, then Hope’s Peak Acaemy was...’ when Shuichi brings up the Cospox. Notice the ‘If’.

The places seen when Tsumugi as Chiaki claims that everyone is a huge DanganRonpa fan are - Japan, Australia, England, America and one other place I can’t identify.

When it’s revealed that it’s the 53rd season, the white V changes to a pink 5. Pink is used in DanganRonpa to symbolise lies (and blood, but it’s the wrong shade of pink for that)

What’s the in game justification for the NDRV3 cast not having any memories of the other games? Or Tsumugi not cosplaying as characters from the other games? (Other than the obvious real world justification that those games don’t exist)

I find it odd that Tsumugi as various characters keeps saying ‘DanganRonpa inspired’.

Gonna point out that they made a kid into a robot. Just gonna throw that out there. This has nothing to do with it I just think it’s fucked up that within a matter of second they took a normal teenager and made him into a walking talking surveillance robot.

Shuichi’s supposed audition video. The Shuichi in this claims that he’s a huge fan of DanganRonpa and has always wanted to be in one. Shuichi in chapter one does not recognise Rantaro, a previous contestant, or the Monokubs. He always reacts with fear and shock in the prologue, contrary to how he acts in the audition video.

Right after the wardrobe change. The change here is that there’s an extra bit after Kaede says ‘K-Killing Game?’, where Shuichi says ‘You mean... we were selected!?’ With the happiest expression on his face. This is not shown in the prologue, obviously. I’m doubting that this actually happened, and that it’s not just another trick by Tsumugi to bring them further into despair.

‘Well, if you’re going to call fiction a lie... Then yes’ this line stands out to me for reasons I can’t explain right now.

Kaede’s audition tape. She says she has no faith in humanity, and yet in the prologue worries over Shuichi and acts in ways one who has no faith in humanity wouldn’t really act.

Kaito’s audition tape. Yeah, no, guy didn’t come off like that at all. I think you get the drill.

c. Tsumugi

 Cospox. This is what she uses to justify how she can cosplay as Junko Enoshima while the everyone still thinks she’s real, by claiming that Junko (and the cast of DR and SDR2) are fictional in the world of NDRV3. Problem: She can’t cosplay as Kaede, someone she herself claims to see as fictional. This could mean either that the cospox itself is a lie, or that Kaede isn’t ‘fictional’.

She never claims her own talent was imparted onto her with the Flashback Lights

Interestingly enough, when giving her certain gifts (the prop carrying case is one) her eyes with swirl, like she’s under the effects of Despair. This also happens during the trial, and a few other times during her FTEs. AS far as I’m aware, she’s the only character in NDRV3 who does this.

In her third FTE, she says ‘This is the ‘Cosplay is Fun’ episode’.

The ‘cosplaycat criminal’ line that gets Shuichi thinking that Junko Enoshima and Hope’s Peak is actually real.

Tsumugi says that she’s been working for 53 seasons on the show. Assuming you have a murder once a week like we see in all three DanganRonpa games, and have 16 victims, that’s 14 weeks of murder as it goes until there are two students left. So 14 weeks x 53 = 742 weeks or 14 years, 2 months and 3 weeks of murder. This also means Tsumugi is at minimum in her 30s. This is assuming that she’s telling the truth, of course.

d. Misc

Maybe a bit of a stretch, but the D.I.C.E logo and the Future Foundation logo look similar.

Why is the History of Hope’s Peak Academy book even here, let alone in Kokichi’s lab? All it does is reveal all of the inconsistencies in Tsumugi’s fake memories.

Actually, the labs in general are a bit odd. All of them are really stereotypical, it reminds me of when I’m designing a house in the Sims for a character who’s athletic so there’s just sports equipment everywhere. 

So my theory is as thus:

NDRV3 doesn’t take place in a world where everyone is obsessed with DanganRonpa and watches Killing Games all day. It takes place in the regular old DanganRonpa universe (possibly where people watch Killing Games), some time after the events of DR3.

Tsumugi is a part of the Remnants of Despair. I’m guessing that either a) They are actually putting on a Killing Game reality show so they can watch people slip into despair then climb into hope then slip into despair again (this could be part of why previous survivors carry over) or b) something else, like studying Ultimate Talents in a slightly more gory way than Hope’s Peak was.

Tsumugi being part of the Remnants of Despair would also explain why the memories are imperfect. She worships Junko, she’s obviously going to play up her actions and downplay the actions of everyone else, it’s a classic propaganda move, and everyone who could have told them about the inner workings of Hope’s Peak Academy is no longer part of the Remnants of Despair.

I’m also going to toss out there that Team DGR might be another name for the Remnants of Despair. This isn’t based on anything, other than their running of Killing Games and it’s the organisation Tsumugi is a part of.

All of this is speculation and quite a bit of reaching, but I had fun doing it and not the pressing assessment that’s due today so that’s all that matters, right? I might update this post from time to time.