#is plot when characters repeatedly fall

[medium-rare-bimbo]

Thinking about thoughts

♡Masterlist♡

MINORS DNI

May contain Dubcon, age gap, dark characters, somnophilia, stepcest

༺*:ﾟ･✧･:*:ﾟ･♡ readmore ♡･ﾟ:*:･✧･ﾟ:*༻

♡ sucking steve and Billy's cocks when they've just finished their basketball practice they suffocate you in their balls

"God you're fucking disgusting bet you're getting off on this arent you?"

"Billy be nice shes too dumb to care about a little bit of sweat"

♡ eddie would bite your boobs </3 would probably make your nipples bleed then flick them through your shirt

♡ I love the whole "stuck in the washing machine" porn plot <3 maybe you hosted a small get together at your house (Nancy, robin, eddie, steve, Jonathan, billy, argyle) and you quickly decide that you need to grab something from your room. Its stored at the back of your bed so you have no other choice but to crawl underneath to get it, unfortunately your bed frame decides to fall just as you were pulling out leaving you stuck with your back arched. Thankfully your friends hear your yells and come to help you but not before they have some fun with you first, you're covered in cum and spit by the end. Your cunt all puffy swollen and sore but your night doesnt end there because they soon find out that they cant Lift the bed :((( meaning they have to call for help, big strong hopper shows up and stretches you out even more but eventually pulls you out from beneath the crushed bed.

♡ billy would 110% fuck you then take pictures of you just to show to his teammates (who tried to flirt with you) that you were his

♡ •whoever• helping there favourite cheerleader stretch, pressing your legs to you chest as they repeatedly hit that special spot that makes you feel all gooey inside

♡ rockstar! eddie fucking you on stage 👁👁

♡ billy/eddie making you cry just so they can wipe your tears and jerk off with them. They're being so mean to you, tears are streaming down your cheeks and dripping onto their cock

♡ mrs wheeler had a bad date night and comes home wine drunk, you're having a sleepover with nancy (whose already asleep) you stumble into the kitchen for a glass of water when you hear her enter. You're not sure how you ended up with her red lipstick smudged between your thighs or your swollen, juice soaked lips but you're not complaining especially when she invites you over the next day

♡ robin really likes your boobs. Almost in a obsessive kinda way. Theyre always so sore and bruised from how much she sucks on them, there are small crescent moon shaped cuts from where she squeezes them aswell as finger shaped marks. Shes always so sorry when you whine in pain as struggle to put your bra on choosing to just pull your shirt on without the wired piece of fabric, her apologies are insincere as she cant help but gawk at your chest and your hardened nipples. It's a win her book

♡ steve x bimbo! reader who loves skating !! He always sees you in your mini skirts and roller skates but can never seem to get the opportunity to talk to you that is until you come into family video looking for some elvis movie for your grandma, despite his charm and flattery you're too dumb to understand his flirting and brush him off he assumed  you were playing hard to get and Almost like clock work youd come in every week to return and rent a new movie then indirectly reject him. Steve had gotten tired of the schedule you had both fallen into when he decided to ask you directly

"Are you not interested in me or something? Am I getting the wrong signals? Because everytime i try to flirt with you, you just ignore it.  Arr you ju- just not into men? Or-"

"Oh my god! I didnt know you were flirting with me silly! like I dont think you ever said something in a flirty way. And by the way as much as I love women I also totally love men maybe not as much but that's not important. You know if I had known you were flirting I would've soo gone out with you I mean-"

He coudlnt believe his ears, you didnt know he was flirting with you? He used the most obvious pick up lines

"W-wait what do you mean you didnt know I was flirting with you?"

"Well it's not like you asked me to bend over so how was I supposed to know?"

"...I dont think that's flirting"

You felt so bad for him :((( you couldnt believe how dumb you were for not realising sooner </3 luckily for Steve his break was soon which gave you a chance to make up for it, although the storage room was not the ideal place for you to be on your knees you couldnt find a thought to care.

♡ eddie would bite your pussy. Nobody else will say it but he would be devouring your cunt then bite you

♡ breeding kink! With dark! Steve!!! Hed fuck you anytime he gets the chance, bent over the sink? Boom cock in you, in the shower? Boom filled, when you sleep? BOOM BOOM BOOM COCK

♡ sucking on man titties 👁👁

♡ hehe flayed billy making you eat ice before you suck him off because he likes the cold

♡ hopper cucking Phil!! Fucks his pretty lil wife right in front of him, hes tied up with a cock ring !!!! Hopper threatens to knock you up and claim you !!!

♡ argyle jerking off infront of you <3<3 you're getting high in the back of his van and he cant help but get turned on by the look of you, you've always been close and in the drug induced haze you cant help but let him stroke himself especially when he asks so nicely

♡ nancy has so many toys its insane, shes also very adamant about using them on you

♡ eddie in panties!!!! Eddie in panties!! MY PRETTY BOY!!! dont think this means hes going to be submissive for you if anything he gets meaner maybe he makes you wear them after he gets all his cum smeared on the inside

♡ stepdad hopper fingering you under the table at dinner !!! His thick fingers sliding against your gummy walls, he sucks off your juices playing it off as him enjoying his food

♡ billy pulls your pussy apart just to spit on it before eating, sometimes smacks your clit too just so see it swell up, likes forcing his fingers into you so he can feel how you try to push him out. Hes probably tattooed his name on to your mound

♡ eddie pretends to pray before spitting on your clit, he uses his pointer finger to move his salvia around maybe nibbles at it too. He just likes watching your hips jerk towards him, gets him worked up to know that only he can please you

♡ steve kisses your clit but not just a simple peck this man makes out with your clit !!! He sucks and swirls his tongue around it practically forces his faces as close as he can get. He loves tasting you, he loves knowing that you juices linger on him

♡ argyle loves stretching your pussy apart to watch your hole clench around nothing. He thinks your cunt is the prettiest thing hes ever seen and could spend forever looking at it. He eats you out slowly trying to prolong leaving his space between you thighs, his lips are swollen by the end and his face is covered in your juices

♡ Jonathan kisses your clit before going down on you, his mouth is all over you and hes constantly lapping up the juices that spill out of you. His fingers are buried inside of you and are moving from your hole to his mouth

♡ hopper is mean and spits on you aswell as spanks your poor cunt. He fingers you so expertly that you feel like you're in heaven, his mouth never leaves your clit and you're all sensitive the next morning from his moustache. He prolongs your orgasms until your screaming and crying for release

♡ nancy is also mean </3 she gets you on the floor and presses her foot into you covered pussy, she makes it seem like such a hassle to eat you out but her actions contradict as shes always pulling down you panties to press you against her mouth

♡ 001 is the worst of the worst that man loves watching you wither in whatever pain mixed pleasure he gives you, hes so mean and always bites and pinches your clit. You rarely get to cum when he goes down on you, only granting you permission when you're wrapped around his cock

♡ robin is in awe everytime she gets to taste you, shes constantly looking up at you as you whine and moan. Shes spent hours training herself to know your weak spots, she makes you cum so many times that you can barely keep your eyes open. She loves looking at your fucked out face and wet thighs

♡ chrissy is so sweet!! When the rest of the cheerleaders have left the locker room and have gone home you're both left alone. You're feeling bad about not perfecting a move and she has to make sure you're feeling good. She takes her time with you making sure you feel loved, she has you sat on a bench with her kneeling on the ground. Shes suffocating herself between your thighs and she wouldnt have it any other way

♡ innocent(?) Reader wants to know if cocks can get hickeys, luckily her boyfriend/bestfriend is willing to help in her experiment

♡ mean girl! Bimbo! Reader calls dark! Eddie's friendgroup "a bunch of virgin incels" he corners her and forces her into the hellfire room. He then shows her how much of a "virgin incel" he is

♡ prince! Steve,  banished! Eddie, rival! Prince! Billy, royal painter! Jonathan (no cameras so hes a painter now) royal cook! Argyle, king! hopper, princess! Nancy, royal advisor! Robin x maid! Reader (maybe not all at once but the thoughts are there)

♡ mechanic! Scumbag! Eddie who always says theres something wrong with bimbo! Readers car just so he can see her, he always gets under the car when youre wearing your infamous mini skirts. Hes so nice to you and you get him lunch when hes been working so hard <3<3 his only desired payment is your tight warm hole <3<3<3<3<3<3

♡ 001 getting obsessed with Billy's girlfriend after he possesses him <3<3 hunts you down after billy is killed, traps you in the creel house to be his housewife

♡ hopper breed me challenge, want to be his dumb personal fleshlight whose only good for being his house wife

♡ argyle hate fucking dominos worker! Reader

♡ perv! eddie has a set of dice that has been blessed by your pussy, thinking innocent! reader wanted to know how to play dnd and goes to eddie only for him to get carried away and just stuffing you with dice. Probably got bored and somehow convinced you to get on his lap, he held your down as he rubbed your clit as he forced the 20 sided die inside of you. He keeps a die on him at all times tucked away in his jeans, it's his good luck charm the rest get stored next to his bedside table where he kisses them goodbye before hellfire

♡ mrs wheeler boobs in my mouth please !!!!!! Got a vibrator pressed against eachother, she calls me her little baby and I just AEAKSBWON

♡ being Jonathan's girlfriend and coming to meet his parents only to be face first in Joyce's pussy with hoppers fat cock in your womb <3<3<3

♡ innocent(?)! Stalker! Reader takes pictures of herself naked, posed on her teddy pair, in her cotton panties, in the shower, fingers deep in her cunt just so she can give them to her favourite people. Thankfully shes always wore long skirts and baggy cardigans so nobody can trace back whose body it is

♡ I'm still not a furry but I 170% believe that eddie needs a bunny girlfriend (aka me)

♡ vampire eddie chasing down nymph! Fairy! reader to have his way with her

♡ bear! Hopper fucking bunny! Reader over fallen tree maybe it's just regular hopper and his fairy/nymph! Fuck toy

♡ AAAAA dark! Eddie coming home after a bad day finding you sleeping on the couch, he needs relief and you're the perfect thing. He climbs on top of you fucking you awake with his pierced cock.

♡ billy cums on your pussy before the day starts just so your cunt gets nice and moisturized with his seed

♡ eddie walks around the trailer with his hand down his pants he says it's to keep them warm but hes really just touching himself

♡ picnic in the woods where I just get fucked dumb and fed fruit <3 taken back to a cabin where I'm all warm and naked near the fire <3<3<3<3<3<3

♡ 👁👁 Murray keeping nymph! Reader as a pet as much as he likes his strange horny creature he cant keep up with your stamina so calls for backup from his good ol friend hopper

[rabbitsrants]

What do you think of D.C.'s M26, do you think it was just a fire of pairs for us Shinran?

SPOILERS FOR MOVIE 26

i think, in total there are two significant shinran moments worth talking about

i enjoy certain elements of the first scene:

ran impulsively goes after a member of the black organization and puts herself in danger because he poses a threat to haibara. their fight is AMAZING, i love how ran dominates pinga despite him attacking her with a knife

something similar happens in the manga as well (chapter 434), so the writing for ran absolutely tracks here

chianti sees the fight and interferes by attempting to shoot ran - shinichi barely manages to save her in time

here's the thing: i absolutely hate the writers for often reducing ran to a damsel in distress in these movies, that's an issue i'll further analyze in a bit

with that being said, i don't mind shinichi saving ran in this scene. it's an impactful shinran moment, cause so far the writing is similar to the manga

the only difference between chapter 434 and this movie is the fact that shinichi actually sees what's happening and is able to actively protect ran. i don't have a problem with that, because that's what shinichi and ran do - they protect each other.

what i love even more is how shinichi decidedly urges ran to stay put, i think that's also very in character for him:

he wants ran nowhere near the black organization, for very specific reasons that i'll get into another post

so far, this is a well executed scene, right? it's a very realistic, high-stakes moment that we'd expect from the manga. so far, so good, right? RIGHT?!

no. cause this is where the movie writers fuck up:

W H A T

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! SHE ACTUALLY STAYS?! AND WHEN SHIN TELLS HER TO RUN, SHE RUNS?! WHAT?!

this is is supposed be ran??? no fucking way.

my girl is the definition of reckless and stubborn. she's not just the type of person who'll enter a burning house to save a girl she barely knows (chapter 174), she's also the type of person who refuses to waste a single second when human lives are at stake. no matter how much shinichi begs her to stay away.

chapter 640

and she does this in chapter 822 on the mystery train as well: shinichi yells at the detective boys, sonoko and ran, he tells them not to leave their room, no matter what. and ran repeatedly attempts to go against his instructions because she's worried about haibara, despite receiving a text message that she's okay, btw. ran's intuition tells her that something is wrong with haibara, so she's gonna fucking look for haibara!!!

i need the movie writers to understand that my girl is absolutely unhinged. she cares about other people very deeply, to the point where she's incapable of watching from the sidelines as they potentially get hurt

so how would i have written this moment? what would've been a more realistic version of this scene?

shinichi and ran get into an intense fight: shin desperately urges ran to stay put, she refuses to listen. and then there'd be two possible outcomes:

a) ran continues to go after pinga and dies in the process (remember, ran was fully prepared to die for haibara in chapter 434)

b) shinichi realizes that he can't stop ran and offers her a safer way to help. ran accepts and they work together as a team to get haibara back

why didn't the movie writers go for this approach? my theory: they don't want ran to take a bigger role in these movies, so option b) was a no-go for them. obviously it'd make even less sense for them to kill off ran, but like i already explained, there's no way ran would just give up on haibara in that moment

so why include this moment at all? what's the point of starting such a strong scene if you're not gonna progress the plot?

the point is ran being a damsel in distress.

which brings me to the second shinran moment in this movie:

ran goes after pinga again and he kicks her off the balcony, she's about to fall and get hurt

kuroda ends up saving her and shinichi feels inadequate

..............

AGAIN, THERE'S NO PLOT PROGRESSION, THE ONLY POINT OF THIS SCENE IS TO MAKE HER LOOK WEAK

idk who this woman is but this ain't ran

HERE'S RAN FUCKING MOURI FOR Y'ALL

a woman who's consistently depicted as strong, fierce and very capable of protecting herself:

chapter 43

chapter 169

and that's not to say that shinichi doesn't worry about her sometimes, ofc he does:

chapter 493

but that doesn't take away from the fact that she's a fucking badass who can defend herself

and it's not just that she's capable of protecting herself, she protects shinichi too.

chapter 5

..........

it's like the movie writers read the manga, took note of moments where shinichi comes through for ran but completely forgot that it's mutual, they come through for each other:

chapter 389

chapter 1050

the movie staff doesn't get ran, they seem to have no idea how strong or caring she is and i hate how much it's hurting the fandom's perception of her

in conclusion:

visit the shinran library for more

[teatreeoilll]

𝐓𝐎 𝐄𝐑𝐑 𝐈𝐒 𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐄 (𝐂𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐗 𝐕𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

˚• . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . •

w/c - 9k content - MDNI! 18 + , minors and ageless blogs do not interact! fem!reader, evil!reader, a lot of plot with porn, much hurt, much angst, cussing, mention of drinking and smoking, VERY shitty parenting, child abuse, character death but not one of the mains, manipulative themes, i invented suguru's parents names, did i say much hurt? everyone's in their early twenties, cellist!Geto, saxophonist!Gojo, violinist!reader, shitty!everyone, kinda dark really i guess so please read at your own discretion, I'm sorry, really

a/n - there will probs be a second part based on the ending, if my back will ever stop hurting from being hunched over my laptop for four days straight writing this insanity.

Dedicated to the dear @telvess who read every scene like five times while I wrote and re-wrote this.

• . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° .•

Jealousy. As a result of your young age, you couldn't put it into words quite yet, but you felt it - choking up your dry throat as your father held your head steady with his fingers digging deep into your scalp to make sure your head wouldn't move an inch.

"Look, child," he said, "really look."

"M-My head, Dad," you sniffled, "It hurts."

You peered through the tiny crack in the large white doors into an empty rehearsal room. Bare walls, empty chairs - all but one, where a young boy sat in the middle, dragging his bow across the strings of a cello like it would be the last thing he does in his life. He did it fervently, desperately, repeatedly over the strings to rumble the sounds through the room. His brows furrowed. His raven black hair was a cluster of strands jolting up and falling on his face each time he moved. It made him look exactly like what you felt - electrified.

Your jaw slacked, and your heart raced within the confines of your chest.

"You see, child?" Your father's words lingered above your head, "Can you finally hear what beauty sounds like?"

You heard, and it haunted you.

-

When he's playing, anyone would agree that Geto Suguru is breathtaking. Below the cuffs of his white button-down are pale hands, guiding long, strained fingers to move feverishly across the fingerboard. Above them, his face, a marble carving with half-lidded eyes, pointed idly at his cello.

Weary music for weary people, he thinks, lifting his gaze just enough to meet the dull faces with greying hair filling the large hall. Their constipated expressions stare back at him. They're just waiting for the cue to clap, although he doesn't mind - not as long as each note of the concerto* he played was perfect.

And by god, do they clap. A standing ovation, long enough to escort him in his path to the stage exit, loud enough for the echoes to linger as he greets the tall, blue-eyed man waiting for him there and frenzied enough to make your knees buckle under the tight fabric of your tailored evening dress.

"It was a good one," the blue-eyed man says, "as far as alarm clock music goes, that is."

"Funny how you keep calling it that, Satoru," Geto chastises, his fingers undoing the clasps of his cello case, "but you're always on the verge of falling asleep when you hear it."

Oh, you think, fiddling with the violin in your hands, so that's Gojo Satoru. Everyone knew who he was; the Gojo family name was arrogantly plastered on the walls of every concert hall in the city, including the one you were about to play in now.

Your tremble. You can't help it - that standing ovation set the bar so high you fear the bow in your hands might snap from the intensity of your grip. But it doesn't, and someone briefly introduces your name on stage.

You glance at the two men, catching Geto's uninterested expression. Your stomach churns. The dignified way it graces his annoyingly good-looking features makes your muscles tense; it's as if he's exhausted from doing the crowd a favor by allowing them to worship his playing.

Arrogant fucker. You think, and he nods at you stiffly, acknowledging the misfortune of performing after him.

As you drag your feet across the polished floor, you can only hear the sound of your own erratic breathing. "Breathe in, breathe out," you mutter under your breath as your shaking knees give the last of their strength to get you to the center stage.

And then a twitch, a breath hitch, and a loud thud.

The room hums with gasps for an instant before going silent again, and every eye in the vicinity watches you lay splayed across the wooden floor.

The shame burns in your cheeks, rushing through your face down to warm your aching body. As a desperate escape you turn your head away from the crowd, only to catch in the corner of your eye the two men still standing at the stage exit.

Don't look at me. Don't look at me. Don't look at me.

"Oof," Gojo huffs, wincing at the sight as he turns to his friend, "Come on, we'll be late if we don't head out now."

Like looking at a trainwreck, Geto's unable to turn away. His lips purse; what a pity.

The silence grew, and you knew you must do something - anything to let this moment pass. You push yourself up, throwing a quick glance at your violin, a string snapped, fuck. "I hope -," you grunt, your voice hoarse from disuse, "I hope Rachmaninoff* gets the same gasps." A wave of suppressed chuckles and claps gushes around you. Oh, thank god.

Your cheeks are still hot, and the first stroke of your bow is hesitant, just a soft flick of the wrist to see if the three remaining strings are still in tune. Is this a good idea? But the crowd's anticipating gaze burns through you, rendering you unable to move. You focus on replacing the missing notes and play the piece - with jagged strokes coming from your still shaking hands, some notes cut it, but just barely.

Gojo nudges his friend's shoulder, "Hey, I said we'll be late."

Geto's pursed lips open lightly, his dark eyes fix intently on your bow, "Hmm?" He hums at his friend's words, dragging him back from his thoughts.

a/n - * - Bach's Cello Suite in C Minor, Sarabande. * - Rachmaninoff's Prelude in G minor, originally for piano, transcribed for violin.

-

"A Jazz club?" you furrow your brows at the music and the tang of smoke already reaching you from the narrow entrance hall.

You'd only met Shoko a few short weeks ago when college started, and she quickly became your only friend - as often happens to two people in a room who prefer to be alone.

"Yes, my friend's playing - you'll hate him," she says. Shoko has that thing where she doesn't change her tone when she says something sarcastic, so you're stuck nodding at her words with an uncomfortable grin on your face.

She tugs you by the sleeve of your shirt, guiding you down the stairs and through the prematurely drunken crowd that eagerly awaits what would be the third song of the evening.

"This would never pass in our concerts," you mutter under your breath, although you kind of wish it did as you look at the people laughing, reaching for another drink, huffing smoke from their mouths while making idle chatter as the players take a short break between songs.

A bright, warm note pierces the room, and like an obedient platoon to an officer's 'attention,' all the eyes fall back on stage. The white-haired man under the mellow spotlight makes a swift move to wipe the mouthpiece of his saxophone before returning it to his lips and blowing into it again - this time, a cue for the drummer, who starts a ruthless pace on his cymbals.

"If jazz is a god," Gojo's voice rings through the room, "then the saxophone is its altar."

How could he say that with a straight face? You think, unable to take your eyes off his clearly pretentious demeanor that would be borderline comical if it wasn't redeemed by his outstandingly handsome face, from the rolled-up sleeves and undone button of his blue dress shirt to the round sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose, he looks like pure sin.

"The Voice of Chunk*," he announces the piece and the room booms with shouts of excitement as the saxophone howls its first long and angelic Mi.

By the time the set ends, Gojo's a mess. A dusty red color flushes his pale cheeks as he pants, a mad gleam in his eyes when he looks at the crowd, which only shouts for another encore. He wipes the sweat off his brow and leaves the stage without a word.

Shoko drags you down to an empty table near the stage, a cigarette propped between her lips as she utters, "Ah," to the sound of a squeaking chair, which Gojo Satoru plops on, splaying his limbs on the wood.

He turns to Shoko, pointing a thumb at you, "Your friend?"

"Mhmm," Shoko confirms, "(Name)." She takes a sip of her cheap beer.

Perpetually assuming everyone already knew him, Satoru Gojo doesn't introduce himself. "What'd you think?" He asks.

"It was very good," you say, and mean it. He wasn't humble, but as far as performances go, he didn't need to be.

"Good?" He turns back to Shoko, looking at her like a wounded puppy, "Shoko.."

"She did say very, Satoru." Shoko sighs, "He hates the word good."

Your breath hitches as Gojo lays a large hand on your thigh, "Calling jazz good is terrible." He says, "It means it did nothing to you. Even calling it horrifying is a much better choice."

Another chair squeaks in your proximity, and Gojo removes the hand from your thigh to place it on the table, "Suguru!" He exclaims. "How was it?"

God, what's he doing here?

"Horrifying," Geto smirks at his friend.

His dark eyes turn to you as he says, "Geto Suguru," and extends a large, calloused palm, which you hesitantly shake. The skin contact makes you shudder. His eyes narrow, "Have we met before?"

The truth is - Geto knows rather well that you have met before. He spent two days after the concert thinking about your figure lying on the wooden floor, and it wasn't for the curve of your ass that pointed towards him, although that didn't escape his thoughts either. His mind raced with thoughts of how quickly you bounced back from your fall, made a joke, and started playing. Could it really be so easy?

"Oh - maybe it's - uh," you babble, your mind already trying to devise an excuse to leave.

"Ah, I know!" Gojo chimes in, "It's our tumbling violinist," he chuckles, "I never forget a girl after I've seen her on all fours."

Geto raises an eyebrow. "We both know that's hardly true."

You stare at Shoko with desperate eyes pleading for a change in topic. She puts down her drink, "Where were you Suguru? I didn't see you the entire gig." Thank god.

"Just there," Geto motions to the side of the bar, where a beautiful light-haired girl sips on a drink, "I've seen him play plenty of times."

I should be polite. "Oh, so you like jazz?" You ask.

Gojo chuckles, removing his sunglasses to reveal clear sky-blue eyes, "Entertain our guest, Suguru."

Geto leans back, arms crossed over his chest, and even his words sound carefully rehearsed - as if he's being interviewed, "It's not that I don't like it. There's just no merit to it." Against your wishes, you meet his gaze, restraining yourself from rolling your eyes at him. "It's mostly improvisation. Not one jazz piece stays the same over time - it blatantly disregards why we value music. Can you imagine someone changing even one note in Rachmaninoff's preludes?"

Is he talking about the ones I played?

Geto leans back, "And that's without mentioning the mistakes."

You furrow your brows, and your chest tightens at his words, "The mistakes?"

"Suguru's just jealous," Gojo smirks, and his arm snakes around your shoulders, "because I've got an ability he doesn't. I like to call it blue." His other hand traces lines across the wooden table, making an invisible note staff, "You see, in jazz, there's no such thing as a mistake. It's considered beautiful even if you play a note a bit too harsh or out of key. They're called blue notes."

"Well, a mistake is just a mistake, isn't it?" You lie, too proud to admit you were ashamed of the embarrassing performance they witnessed, "You shouldn't be proud or overcritical of it - it just is."

"It's a good philosophy," Geto says softly, and a faint smile appears on his lips, it makes sense now, "It works well if you just play for fun."

A decade of rigorous violin practice flashes before your eyes, the callouses on your fingers you were teased for as a child, and he dares to say it's for fun?

Your cheeks heat up, "Well, what do you play for? Suffering?"

"Perfection," he answers. Prick.

"Perfection?" You sneer, clenching your jaw, "Then what about improvisation?"

"Leave that vice for the jazz musicians." He says, and his expression suddenly changes, "I'm sorry, I know you improvised in your Rachmaninoff; you did the best you could - considering." He means it earnestly.

The veins throb in your forehead, Is he pitying me?

Gojo laughs, "If you keep bickering, I won't remain the star of the show tonight," and you notice the not-so-discreet looks of the people at the other tables ogling you.

"It's getting kind of late anyway," Shoko says, smothering her cigarette butt against the ashtray's bottom, "Why don't we go before we miss the train?"

"I'll give you a lift," Geto says, and you stare at Shoko, hoping that your wide, begging eyes will lead her to decline, "Come on," He adds, standing up, "It's raining outside, and our violinist can slip up even on dry flooring."

a/n - * - Voice of Chunk, The Lounge Lizards, 1988

-

"I'll see you in school," You say to Shoko, who exits the back seat of the silver Toyota, leaving nothing but a bitter smell of smoke and a long, strained silence lingering in the car.

"Which way?" Geto points to a fork in the road.

"Left, then straight for a while." And could you be so kind as to crash us into the nearest wall? You chuckle inside your head.

He turns his head as if he heard you, "So, a mistake is just a mistake, is it?"

And your fists clench momentarily, their tension softened only by the quiet, sweet sound of Samuel Barber* playing through the radio, weaving its melody with the heavy pounding of rain on the car roof, "Well, if you dwell on them too much, you're not going to have any time left to fix them." You wish you meant it.

He ponders silently before asking, "How'd you start playing?"

Is he only asking to make a snide remark? You decide to keep your answer curt. "My father gave me his violin when I was young."

The windscreen wipers work full force to make the dark road ahead visible, "My mother never let me touch her cello," he says, his unbothered tone now laced with somber notes, "I hated the thing."

The ache in your chest is almost unbearable, your fingers dig into the fabric of your trousers. He hated it, and he still plays like that?

"Then why play?" You inquire, watching the streetlights' reflections glint in his dark eyes.

Because it matters, it has to matter.

He laughs, and you can't help but notice how his face softens when he does, "It pays for college," a speck of red tint dusts his cheeks, and a strange pull flares in your chest at his defenseless look, "Don't I look like a scholarship boy?"

"Maybe if I squint," you say as he turns to look at you. You narrow your eyes, "Nope, can't see it," and he laughs again, making the remnants of alcohol turn in your stomach.

When you arrive, you step out of the car and he watches you disappear into the building's front, his fingers tapping restlessly on the wheel. A weak, burning sensation plagued the muscles around his jaw; were they really so unaccustomed to laughing?

a/n - * - Samuel Barber's Adagio for Strings, Op.11

-

15 years ago

The Geto residence was an ever-tastefully decorated one-story house in the rural areas outside Tokyo, always graced by the echoing sounds of an Italian-made cello. Geto Suguru himself was a wide-eyed child, six years old, and already praised for being prematurely intelligent by his parents' arrogant friends; "Your little Suguru is so clever," one of his mother's friends said, leaning over the dinner table to tug mercilessly on his cheek, "I bet he'd skip a grade as soon as he starts school, don't you think, Kieko?"

To which his mother only hummed in response, quickly diverting the subject, "The Bolshoi* is performing in the city next month. Will you come?"

Suguru didn't mind these things much. He wasn't the kind of child to look for praise; he didn't care for it from strangers' mouths and never knew the delight of hearing it come out of his mother's ever-pursed lips.

The next morning, Kieko Geto sat on a sturdy, padded stool and played with unwavering concentration until the midday sun sipped through the windows, blinding her eyes. Only then did she stop, turning back to notice her son's inquisitive gaze peering from the doorway.

"Come," she instructed, and Suguru took a few hesitant steps to the middle of the room. His mother positioned the cello upright, the wooden beast towering over him as she pressed a flat palm to the middle of the fingerboard, measuring his height against it. "One day," she said, "you'll be big enough to play it, Suguru."

A phone rang, and his mother stepped out. Suguru stood a long while staring at the instrument that leaned lazily against the wall. One day - he didn't want to wait for some vague, distant day, and his arm itched with impulse.

Suguru lifted the bow from the stool, ramming it violently across the strings. It made such a horrendous sound that he thought for a moment he hurt it, and now the thing was howling in pain.

"Suguru!" his mother shrieked as she shoved him out of the way, "What did you do?" Her pale fingers grazed the cello, searching for new marks on the wood.

The bow in her hand glinted like a Katana under the sunlight as she swung it at his head.

The next few minutes were a blur. Suguru guessed he screamed since his father stormed into the room, pushing him to stand behind his back. His eyes were fixed on the creases on the back of his father's shirt, changing their shape like sand dunes as the man's arms moved frantically through the air as if he were conducting his own shouts.

The boy placed a hand on his forehead. "Dad," he tugged hesitantly on the creases, leaving red stains on the pale blue shirt, "Dad."

a/n - * - The Bolshoi Ballet

-

A failed poet turned local journalist once described Geto Suguru's playing as having a gut-wrenching elegance, and as you stood at the large doors leading to the conservatory's hall, you couldn't help but hear what he meant. Angelic strokes on the rumbling strings, and each note is -

"Shit," he cusses, dragging the bow harshly along the strings as if it could saw the instrument in half if he tried hard enough. Even as he does so, he can't seem to make it sound bad. The bow drops on the floor with a hollow thud, and he runs a defeated hand through his hair, brushing back a long black strand to reveal a two-inch, pale scar on the side of his forehead.

He lifts his gaze up, noticing you standing by the door. How long has she stood there? "Violinst," he says. "Come to practice?"

Seeing him laugh a few days ago must have been a figment of your imagination. "Yes," you utter.

"It's occupied until six."

You make your way to the low stage through the aisle between the empty rows of seats, "It's ten past six," you remark, and Geto glances at the clock, frowning at it like it broke a long-standing promise.

You reach the stage, putting your violin case on the still-warm seat of the lone chair in the middle. You shudder at the warmth, watching Geto lift the massive cello case as his other hand reaches into his pocket, taking out a crumpled pack of cigarettes, "You want one?" he asks, holding it open.

You shake your head, "Thank you."

He puts one smoke between his lips, patting down his pockets, "Got a light?"

You shake your head again, "Sorry."

He shrugs, his eyes fixing on the violin in your hand, and you notice the slight puffiness under his eyes. "Not my day, I guess." And it's a long gaping silence while he puts the cigarette back in the pack, "Do you mind if I stay?"

"No," Yes. "But if you scrunch your nose at my mistakes, you leave."

"I don't scrunch my nose," he retorts.

"You do."

Geto runs a long finger along the bridge of his nose down to the tip, leaning forward slightly to meet your eyes, "Straight as an arrow," he says without a smile, and you turn red at the sudden proximity, fixing your gaze on the shiny white floor beneath your feet.

"Alright then," you mumble.

Geto sits in the front row, reclining on the backrest of the crimson-colored seat with his hands resting on his spread thighs while his cello case leans on the seat next to him like a second observer. You might as well put on a burlesque show from how naked you feel under his steady gaze.

You drag the bow across the strings, echoing a dissonant tone throughout the room.

"Are you testing me?" He says with a smug smile plastered on his lips, but you hoped for a heartfelt one instead.

"Mhmm," you hum, taking a few steps forward to the verge of the stage, where you take a seat with your legs dangling from the edge, "You passed." and he chuckles, soft and low.

As you begin to play, Geto gets up from his seat to pace back and forth along the aisle, his brows furrowed and his thumb pressed against his lips while he listens to the music.

Your muscles strain, bracing themselves for the suite's climax, now's the hard part, you think, letting out a frustrated huff as your eyes fix on Geto. You miss the first note.

He halts, and your bow leaves the strings as you await his reaction in the irksome silence of the hall.

For a moment, he's desperate. Desperate for you to do what he thought was an almost inhuman feat after such a mistake.

He takes a few steps closer, towering over you while his eyes stare intently into yours, "Keep playing," he demands.

Your breath hitches as you watch him slowly lower himself to his knees beneath you. He places large, calloused palms on your knees, eagerly spreading your legs while his eyes are still honed on your face, relishing in the red flush burning your cheeks. He runs a hand under your skirt, grazing your thigh with long, rough fingers, a hint of a smile on his lips when he hears your breathless gasps, "Keep playing," he repeats.

Smile, god, you hated that smile.

You play a few jagged notes before your arms give in, and you place the violin on the floor with a soft clunk. Your now free hands grasp his hair, freeing it from his neatly tied bun to fall down his shoulders.

"Eager girl," he mutters, tracing his finger along your wet panties, and you tug harder at his hair. I'm the eager one?

"Q-Quit teasing," you stammer as he yanks you closer to the edge of the stage, pulling off your panties with a swift move. You shudder as his warm breath fans over your exposed cunt, panting heavily as his fingers dig deep into your thighs.

"Hmm?" He murmurs, placing soft kisses against your inner thighs, letting his teeth graze the skin but stopping every time right before he reaches your soaked pussy. Just do it, for the love of god, just do it.

You're reduced to a quivering mess, fighting the urge to push his head into your wetness, "Please," you whimper breathlessly, frowning at the loss of your pride under his touch, "p-please stop teasing," and you finally feel his tongue lick a stripe up your clit as he grunts softly at your taste.

"Good girl," he groans out, letting his lips wrap around your bud, burying his face so deep in your cunt you feel his nose rub against your clit while he rasps out a soft "Fuck," that sends shivers up your spine.

He was messy, fervent, eager as his tongue worked on your clit, and you grew dizzy at the sight of the usually calm and collected man disheveled and red-faced between your legs, moaning out his name as you felt yourself clench against his lips, "S-Suguru, fuck -."

He'd never heard his name come out of your lips before, but this was a better first time than he could imagine. He grew unbearably hard in his jeans, rutting against thin air almost instinctively every time you rolled your hips into his face, "Say it again," he demands, and his deep voice sends a rush of heat to your face.

Can he do it? Can he make you even more of a mess on his fingers? Can he watch while you stutter his name, while your face is a beautiful flushed mixture of those blunders he loved seeing you make?

"Suguru," you look at him through glazed eyes, and he frees the hand that grabbed your thigh to slide two skilled fingers into your soaked cunt, "S-Suguru," you whimper out when they sink deeper, pumping into your sweet spot with a harsh pace.

A drunk smile grazes his lips when you clench against his fingers. It takes him all his strength to pull away from your cunt, "You want more, princess?" He teased, fingers pumping lazily into you.

You manage to whine a quiet, "Y-Yes."

"Then ask," he coos, his smile turning into a devilish grin, and you squirm at the loss of his tongue, clutching his hair tighter.

"Please, Suguru," you breathe. How many times will he put me through this? And your muscles contract when he flicks his tongue over your cunt again, "p-please, Suguru - I'm - " you babble as he resumes his harsh pace, your thighs closing on his head, hips rutting desperately for some more sweet friction against his tongue.

"Please, fuck - " you moan, arching your back. His fingers still push into you as he groans at the taste of your wetness gushing on his tongue, licking it hungrily while you pant almost inaudible whispers of his name, and he thinks he might come from the sweet sound of your voice alone.

His lips finally let go of your clit. He pushes himself up from his knees to face you, his mouth wet with your essence as he brushes his lips against yours. Barely a kiss, but you grow dizzy anyhow, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, running your other hand along his T-shirt-clad stomach down to the bulge in his jeans.

"No," he utters. No?

"Huh?" Your brows furrow, "Do you want me to take you out for a cup of coffee first?" It was supposed to be a thought, shit.

He laughs, and you watch the lines form in the corners of his eyes, "Could be nice," he says, "besides, it's your rehearsal hours; don't you want to practice?"

"Not really," you grumble, "You can use them if you like." You reach down to pick up your panties from the floor where he discarded them, only to see him grab them first.

"I could," he muses aloud, "I'm playing the Grand Hall opening in a few weeks," and he catches your gaze for a second, "but I'd rather watch you play." And you blush as he tucks your panties into the front pocket of his jeans, "You'll get them later," he says, "If you're good."

"If I'm good?" You furrow your brows, "If I don't make any mistakes, you mean."

"No," he asserts, his words a bit loud, catching you off-guard as you fumble for your violin, "If you're good."

After you refuse his ride home, it's a long walk of shame back to your apartment. You feel as though your pride was left in his pocket together with your underwear, but maybe, just maybe, you'll make something good come out of it.

-

"Dad put it - " Suguru's arm held his father's in a tight grip across the coffee shop's table, urging it to release the silver spoon in his hand, "Put it back, please."

"They've got plenty," his father barks, his eyes darting around to observe the busy staff of the cafe while he hides the spoon carefully in his bag.

Suguru lets out a weary sigh, focusing on the swirling cream in his coffee mug, "So do you," he says, the taste of stale regret mixing in with his drink when he lifts it to his mouth.

"Eh?" His father's eyebrows knit together, wrinkles forming under his five o'clock shadow when his lips purse, "You here to judge me, boy?"

Suguru takes a sip from his coffee but finds it stuck bitterly in his throat under his father's hostile stare.

"Thought so," the man says, his dirty fingernails tapping on the wooden table as he adds, "Now, will you finally quit fooling around with that thing?"

"I don't know, Dad," Suguru chokes out.

"She croaked this morning, the bitch. She won't come to see you play now, would she?"

Suguru's eyes widen, his hands quivering, pads of his fingers digging into the scortching coffee mug, threatening to tumble the liquid over the rim, "What?"

"Croaked, gone, dead. She left you that cursed cello of hers," his father eyes the sugar dispenser on the table, brushing his fingertips on it, "So you'll sell it. And give the money to your father," his shoulders draw back, he's proud, "for all the things he did for you, yes?"

"I don't know, Dad," Suguru mutters.

The man's agitated expression deepens the wrinkles on his forehead, "'I don't know Dad," his father mocked, "I'll tell you what you need to know. I took you away from that vicious whore when she'd done your face in with her bow, and you've never thanked me once, just begged me to buy you a damn cello when you knew that all our money was left in that house." A brute splatter of spit lands on the table as he sneers, "And I did, didn't I? Bought you the damn thing, drove you around with it like some chauffeur. Where's my thanks? Eh, brat? Where's my money?"

The man raises his arm, and a young, blonde waitress appears momentarily by their table, all smiles when she says, "The check, sir?"

"Yes," Suguru's father says, the chair under him screeching as he gets up, "My son will pay."

-

For hours now he'd been contemplating where to go. Who he wanted to see. but when Geto finally gets to your door, his face still flushes with the soft pink of an irredeemable shame while his urgent, stiff knuckles pound on the door. He knew you were home. He wasn't a brute - he texted to check, but he still couldn't calm the restless ache burning in his chest.

When you open the door, there's no hello, just the unyielding feeling of his body flat against yours as he presses sloppy kisses along your jaw, groaning when his teeth graze the tender skin of your neck, "Fuck," his breath fans over you neck as he pants out the words, "you smell sweet."

His face lingers in the crook of your neck, relishing in the warmth like a cold-blooded animal who'd die without the heat. His fingers dig into your thighs so harshly you fear they might bruise them as he lifts you up, "Smell so fucking sweet - " he keeps muttering under his breath as your legs wrap around his waist, your hands clinging to the muscles on his back to keep your balance.

"Suguru," you pant when he drops you on the bed, noticing the unfamiliar ruthless look in his eyes, hardly the same one you saw between your legs a few days ago, "Did something - "

"D'you want to stop and talk?" He chuckles, large, warm hands running across your body to discard your clothes, "Hmm?" He purrs, already confining you under his body, planting soft, teasing kisses on the valley between your breasts.

"N-No," you whimper at the feeling of his teeth against your hardened nipple, and you run a hand through his dark hair to yank him away, while the other hand tugs at his shirt to signal him to fuck, take it off.

He almost doesn't want to break away from your body, not even for the sake of finally feeling your skin rub against his. But he manages to regain his composure long enough to use swift movements to discard his clothes as you watch him, strong and veiny, a body that could be carved in marble if it ever stopped moving with devious intent.

"Suguru," you knew he loved it, the sound of his name coming from your mouth. "Please," you writhe under him, desperate for any kind of touch as he looms over you, holding himself up while deep pants escape his parted lips. He's too far for you to crash your lips against his, no matter how you try. You lift your head from the pillow, and he chuckles at your efforts, pumping his already hard and leaking cock, groaning when he lets the tip brush against your folds.

"So wet already, hmm?" His hand abandons his cock to push a finger inside your cunt, the squelching noises making the blood rush to your head. He's mad with need but can't let your squirming be over so soon, "All for me?"

"Fuck, Sugu - " you cut yourself off to grip his hair, making your lips crash, feeling his tongue swallow your moans as he takes his finger out only to push his cock into you with a deep thrust, "Ah - fuck - " you moaned into his mouth, feeling his tip rub against your sweet spot when he finally bottomed out.

He starts a mean pace, and a hint of pain jolts through you while you adjust to his size, loud moans escaping your lips, "Oh my, ah - God."

"Suguru," he corrects, reaching a hand to adjust your hips, and you moan at the friction against his abdomen, "moan it for me, princess," he groans out against your neck when you pant his name, "louder - fuck - " he pleas, his breath hitches when you clench against him.

He knows he can't hold it much longer, threatening to spill his load at every pant and moan and brush of his lips against your skin, "S- Suguru - " you whine, feeling his fingers draw circles against your clit, digging your nails into his back to leave shallow red scratches along his shoulder blades.

"You close, princess?" He lets out a shaky breath when he feels you clench again, gritting his teeth at the tightness around his cock.

The coil in your stomach tightens, and your eyes shut at the feeling of his messy, erratic thrusts, "Suguru - ," you moan, "Suguru - I - " you pull his head back by the hair.

"Mhmm," he coos, "you what?" he growls, his thrusts feeling almost impossibly deep when the heat pools in your stomach.

"I - I'm - close - " And it's all he needs to hear, locks of black hair falling to brush against your face as he smashes his lips onto yours, savoring the taste of your mouth as your back arches and walls contract around him.

"Good girl," he rasps into your mouth, pounding a few harsh thrusts before his hips stutter. You watch through glazed eyes how muscles tighten as he spills his seed into you with a low groan.

He collapses atop you, pressing his sweat-dampened face against your chest to relish in the sound of the fast, thumping beat of your heart. A few more seconds, and he can measure the tempo.

"Listen," Suguru says, smoking a cigarette out of the open window of your room while he watches you get dressed in the corner, "there's a few things I have to do early tomorrow," his eyes trail out to the street lamps out the window, their blinking lights reflecting on his car outside.

"Suguru," you stand over him, brushing the pads of your fingers against the scratches you left on his back, "did something - "

"Just a few things I have to do," he says, looking around the room for his shirt, "so I'll call you, yeah?"

-

"Uhm, so, did you hear from Su-" You cut yourself off, watching Shoko take a long drag from her smoke with her eyes waiting for you to finish your sentence. "I mean - " you clear your throat, "You know how a guy does something, and then he -" Your face grows red at the memory of Suguru's naked body, "And you think it was nice because you had fun, and then he -"

Shoko watches you babble for a while before saying a confused, "Yes?"

"Suguru didn't call me back," you finally utter. Wasn't it enough for him that I called first?

"Oh," Shoko takes a long drag from her cigarette, "and he needs to call you because..?"

Your face flushes crimson as you bury your face in your hands, "B-Because we fucked and I haven't heard from him since," you mutter through your palms.

Gojo Satoru has a habit of entering places like his presence was eagerly anticipated, swinging the door open with a dramatic expression, "Shoko!" He cuts through the conversation, his height exaggerated by the confines of Shoko's small dorm room as he puts his saxophone on the table, "The key is stuck. I'm going to need you to fix it again -"

"Later," Shoko sounds like a reprimanding mother as she motions toward your sulking face.

Gojo's eyebrows knit together, "Did something happen?"

"Suguru didn't call her after - " Shoko reconsiders her words for a moment, "after they had a nice time together."

"Hmm?" Gojo plops down on the bed in the corner, "Well, he won't call for a while."

You raise your gaze from your palms, tilting your head at the man, "What do you mean?" And your mind races, Oh god. He can't - hate me?

"You didn't hear?" Gojo's smirk fades from his lips, "His mother died last Saturday."

Wait, the same day he came and - ?

You widen your eyes at Shoko, who only shakes her head in response.

"His parents were divorced for quite a while," Gojo continues, "he hasn't seen his mother in over a decade - "

"But she's still his mother," Shoko remarks, huffing a cloud of smoke into the room that lingers stagnant above the table.

Gojo sulks, "I was about to say that. He's been stuck in his room for a week now. My father's pissed."

"Your father?" You puzzle, watching Gojo wipe his sunglasses on the edge of his shirt.

"He was supposed to play the Grand Hall this weekend." And you squint your eyes, waiting for him to continue, "My father pays his tuition for these shows, y'know."

"Your father pays Suguru's tuition?" You repeat.

Gojo chuckles, "Well, I'm not sure for how long, now that Suguru won't even answer his phone. Dad's been planning this grand opening for a year now."

Oh?

"Can't you talk to him?" Shoko was still holding onto the smoking cigarette butt in her hand.

"It's like talking to a - " Gojo cut himself off to knock twice at the white plaster wall beside the bed.

Your muscles tense, and the sound of your own racing pulse deafens your ears.

I should say something. "He's your friend," you croak out.

Gojo's expression changes to a stern one, a terrifying sight on his soft features, "What would have me do? Make him play while he's mourning for his mother? Fight with my father only to have him cut Suguru off anyway?"

You go silent, mulling over his words, but find nothing to say.

Shoko picks up the saxophone from the table, "Which key is broken?" she asks, and there's a hint of defeat in her voice as she waits for Satoru's answer so, at the very least, she can fix something.

-

Suguru had stared at the cello case for days now, hesitant to take the instrument out of its shell. He started staring at it when he took it from his mother's house after the funeral and kept staring at it on the two-hour bus ride and the three-hour train journey, and then, when he leaned it against the wall of his apartment, he still couldn't take his eyes off of it.

It called him. Not in the way you called him - the kind that made his heart flutter when he saw your name pop on his phone screen, which he ignored, simply having no clue as to what to say.

He still ran the imaginary conversations in his head every time you did, letting out sad chuckles into the stale air of his room. How have you been? Oh yes, my mother died, and I'm sitting here with her instrument, which she always loved more than me. Is it nice? Oh, it's more like a successful older brother - you want to hug him just as much as you want to chuck him out the window. Would you like to grab a coffee?

"It's been almost two weeks since you sat there," Geto stands in the little kitchen of his apartment, making a cup of tea he knew would join the others piled up on his bedside table. I'm talking to it now, he thinks, I've finally gone insane. "How about you pay rent?" He chastises the instrument.

For a moment, he thinks it really might pay his rent - for about four years - if he decides to sell it, and keep the money to himself. His hands find themselves opening the case.

He inspects it for a long while, his hands brushing reluctantly over the wood until they find the small scratch in the varnish, the one he'd left there over a decade ago, and he focuses on it. It's small, pale looking, almost too tiny to notice, like the scar on his forehead.

"Maybe it's fair," he mutters at it, "I hurt you, and she hurt me. Balance."

A knock on the door makes his hand falter.

"Suguru," you bang on the door, feeling your leg squash something under it. "Mochi?" you mutter as you pick up a bag from the floor, and the lock clicks.

He looks terrible, you think, with tired eyes and strands sticking out from his usually perfect hair. You hand him the crumpled bag, trying no to smile, "It was just here," you point to the doorway.

"Hmm?" He takes it from your hands, "Satoru's been leaving those here every day. I've got plenty. You can have it if you like."

The air in the room reeks of smoke and coffee grounds, and he steps away, losing your eyes as he moves clothes from a chair to his bed for you to sit on.

"How are you?" you ask.

"Fine," he responds instinctively. Silence. "Would you like some coffee?"

"Sure." Silence again. A good time to pick up smoking, you think.

Your gaze lands on the cello peaking from its case in the corner. "A new one?" You puzzle as he puts a cup of coffee in front of you.

"My mother's," Geto says, sitting on the chair across from you.

"It's beautiful," you say, and you watch a sullen look settle in his eyes. "Wrong thing to say?" you give him a half-hearted smile, attempting to lift his mood, "Because in that case, it looks terrible."

"I like it when you say the wrong things," He suddenly says, "They don't feel so wrong when you say them."

You take the cup of coffee in your hands, warming your palms against the glass, "You can say them too sometimes, y'know."

He takes a sip from his coffee, only to find he can't stand the taste anymore, wrinkling his nose, "I hate that thing. I've been contemplating whether to sell it or just throw it out the window."

"And what's the verdict?"

"Play it," he says.

"Then play it."

He gets up, pushing the chair back to the middle of the room as he walks to take the instrument out of its case. You're almost startled by how stiff he looks leaning it between his legs, a hold so tight on the bow his knuckles turn white.

He puts the bow to the strings with a feather-light stroke, and halts.

He looks scared of it.

Is that what stage fright feels like? He thinks as he watches you lean forward against the table, eyes honed on his hands.

"You just need to play it, y'know? Like children do, just wiggle the bow a few times." You say.

Like children do. "It'll be dissonant," Geto utters sternly, releasing his grip on the bow.

"That's how they laugh," your lips curl into a soft smile, "That's what my father used to tell me when he heard the horrible screeches I made on his violin when he first gave it to me, 'Don't worry, that's how they laugh.'"

His chest tightened at the words, and he forced the bow onto the strings, making a loud, off-key tone penetrate the room.

It's the first time you've heard him make a mistake, and it made every nerve in your system tingle. Your head went euphorically dizzy. This is much better.

He almost stopped at your wide-eyed look, but you just laughed, "Oh, please, you call that dissonant?" And you watch him push the bow onto the strings again, brows furrowed at the terrible sounds, but his movements unwavering.

It's fine to play it like this, he thinks, as long as it's accompanied by your laughter.

"Suguru," you utter, and he lifts his gaze from the instrument, "Will you play the Grand Hall tonight?"

He ponders for a moment, "I think I will."

"Then you better answer your phone," you motion towards the buzzing cell phone on the counter, "and take a shower," you laugh.

He looks down on his disheveled clothes, "That bad, huh?" He chuckles.

"Just a little."

You hear the shower water running as you fiddle with your phone, still dazed at what just happened. You press the contact and dial.

"Hey, Dad?" You chirp into the cell phone, "Are you still coming to the Grand Hall opening tonight?"

-

The new Grand Hall is a sea of white marble floors and golden framed artworks, crowded by black-suited CEOs and their overly lavish trophy wives.

Geto sits on the lone stool in the middle of the stage, watching them all take their seats, still busy exchanging pleasantries with each other while they wait for the show to start. His eyes drift constantly to the stage exit, where you stand with Gojo, smiling softly, mouthing, "Don't worry," at his stiff figure.

His mother's cello is still unfamiliar to the touch, a beast different than the one he owns which he had already spent years taming.

People fill the seats like ants, and the lights dim above his head. The pianist behind him is a weak-looking man, and he adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his thin nose before giving Geto the cue to start.

The first stroke of the bow is a hesitant one across the strings that once earned him a blow to the head, but the second one has more vigor, and his eyes, half-lidded still, find your smiling face again to soothe his nerves. His bow falters; he didn't have time to change the rusty strings; what would Elgar* say?

And you can't help but smile at each terrible pitch echoing around you; each horribly dissonant tone is more beautiful than the next to your ears.

The sounds are low and deep, growling against the marble hall. He almost has it - the feeling - the one that'd let him stop quivering in his seat. His bow jitters. He never knew he could make so many mistakes in a piece that he played hundreds of times, but with your smile at the corner of his eyes, he feels it creep up his fingertips, rushing through his chest - joy.

"My son!" The doors to the concert hall bust open with a bang; it overpowers the soothing sounds of his cello and the melody of the piano, "He's my fucking son. Let me see him!" Suguru's father stumbles drunkenly into the hall, two dark-suited men at his heels.

The hall washes over with whispers, women pressing their carefully manicured hands to their painted mouths in awe while their husbands are already halfway out of their seats with a proud "I'll take care of the bastard, honey" stuck on their lips.

"Fuck off, pig." Suguru's father spews at the guard trying to drag him away, "He owes it all to me, the brat. Play for our guests, Suguru! " He turns to the crowd, "Enjoying the show, money-rolling cunts?"

Suguru stiffens, his eyes two dull, widened orbs staring at the scene as he stops his playing, ignoring the piano player's whispers to just play, kid.

Gojo rushes to the man screaming in the hall, "Mr. Geto, long time no see," he says, one hand gripping him by the edge of his booze-soaked shirt, the other wrapping around the man's neck in an almost affable way, "How about you see your son after the show?" A smile is frozen on his soft lips, his blue eyes staring daggers at the man, "Now be nice, or they'll tase you," he breathes down the man's ear, motioning to the guards whose fingers are already clutching the tasers.

"Fucking bastard," Geto's father mutters at the white-haired man, "Money-rolling cunts," he slurs all the way out of the doors. They close with a soft thud, leaving the hall in a dead silence.

a/n - * - Edward Elgar, Cello Concerto in E minor, Op.85

-

12 years ago

"You hear that?" Your father stood over you in the rehearsal room of the conservatory, his arms crossed over his chest as he paced back and forth, "That's how they laugh. Every time you make a mistake, they laugh at you, girl."

Your eyes were red as you stopped your playing, "L-Laugh?"

"Instruments make that sound so they can mock you," your father explained, correcting your grip on the bow, "and you have to do everything so they don't do that."

Every day, he'd drive you up to the conservatory and stand over you in that room for hours on end, brows knitted together at each whine the violin screeched out. And when it was finally over, he'd walk you down the long white corridor to the room at the end, where a small, dark-haired boy would play his cello.

"See that, girl?" He'd point through the crack in the door, "Perfection."

Perhaps that was when you started to despise Geto Suguru. Over the years, the feeling only grew, but it hadn't peaked before his smug smile sat next to you in a jazz club, finally uttering the first words he ever directed at you, "Geto Suguru, have we met before?"

And it felt strange because you had - or at least you thought you had, over a decade ago. Not that he'd know that you watched him play almost every day through that time, with the scrutinizing words your father whispered above your head, "Look. Really look," your father held your head steady with his fingers digging into your scalp, "It doesn't laugh at him, see?"

And you did see. And you wished that it laughed at him, too. Why were you the only one supposed to be laughed at?

You didn't mean to at first, really. Something about him just ticked it off, the urge for revenge. How dare he hate his instrument and play it so well, when you loved the violin and it betrayed you with every stroke?

You didn't mind the sex; he was still a handsome man. It made him trust you - and as long as you made him make a mistake - every laugh, every encouraging smile, every word, was worth it.

-

"Fucking bastard," Geto's father mutters at the white-haired man, "Money-rolling cunts," he slurs all the way out of the doors. They close with a soft thud, leaving the hall in a dead silence.

Suguru looks for them - your eyes, and that smile that seems to perpetually grace your lips - but when his eyes finally land on you, he finds it gone. You mouth something he doesn't quite catch before disappearing from the stage exit. He can't do it; he can't play anymore. His hand freezes against the strings.

You finally made a fool of yourself, Suguru.

You wait outside the Grand Hall doors, body shivering with anticipation when the crowd finally starts to leave the hall.

"Dad!" You shout when you see him, making your way through the people, heels clacking against the marble until you grab your father's arm, "Dad! It was horrible, wasn't it?"

"Hmm? Who'd you come with dear?" Your father inquires.

"Leave it, Dad. He was horrible, right?"

He looks at you a long time before saying, "It's a shame for that boy, the beginning was perfect."

-

10 years later

When he's conducting, anyone would agree that Suguru Geto is breathtaking. The moment he dropped playing the cello ten years prior, every one of his admirers had almost lost hope - that is, until he picked up the baton. A true genius, they'd say, forgetting his last horrible performance, which graced the headlines for a long time after he ditched it in the middle, and how he disappeared for the next two years after it. Lonley? Gods no, he's a busy man, or perhaps struggling with all his greatness to find a mind akin to his own.

But only the small orchestra that played under him knew that all these words were just flattery - he was cold and unforgiving of any and all mistakes, and he really, truly despised the violinists.

Or he did, until the new violinist ran late to the first rehearsal of the year.

[benkeibear]

⋆꙳✧༄ Signs of love

❖ Character: Hanma

❖ Reader: Female | AFAB

❖ Wordcount: 1.4k

❖ Summary: flashbacks of a night spent with your lover, getting marked up as his and marking him as yours

❖ WARNINGS: sub!reader, masturbation, unprotected sex, burning, fingering, overstimulation, cum eating.

❖ A/n: Credits for the amazing plot idea go to my one and only @virtue-and-beneviolence may Shuji fuck you silly 🫶

꒰ ͜͡➸ Back to Kinktober Masterlist

Huffing out some air you crossed your legs, the business meeting boring you out of your mind. You didn't think much about it until you noticed the gaze of your boss, Kisaki falling to your ankle, eyes going wide before he fixed the tie around his throat, loosening it up a little before he continued to speak, trying not to let his gaze fall once more. As shiver ran down your spine when you realized what he saw when your pants slipped up to reveal your ankle for everyone to see, the one responsible for the marks covering your delicate skin wore a knowing smirk, looking at his friend and boss with that smug face as your head drifted off to the previous night.

Your fingers were buried deep within your sopping cunt, massaging your sweet spot as your thumb drew lazy circles onto your clit. There was no need to finish fast, taking your time to build that orgasm, not caring that your boyfriend was just a room away, gaming and not giving you the attention you craved at the moment. Soft moans of his name left your lips, filling the room with sinful sounds alongside the squelching noise of your wetness. Your moans weren't as soft and quiet as you thought, catching a glimpse of Shuji standing in the doorframe, a huff of smoke leaving his nose as he took in the sight of his beloved taking care of her needs because he was being so selfish. “Enjoying yourself?” He asked with a grin, taking another drag of the cigarette that rested between his teeth. All you could do was whimper, too close to the edge to stop the movement of your fingers despite the slight humiliation you felt of being caught in this situation. “Such a needy brat” he mumbled and made his way over to the bed, dragging you closer to the edge by your ankle so your glistening cunt was on full display right in front of him as he pulled your hands away, swiftly taking hold of his cigarette to lean down so he could suck on your delicate fingers. Your taste mixed with the nicotine made him hum in delight before releasing your hand from his grasp and reaching for your ankles once more. “So wet for me already… making sure I can fuck you right away. What a good girl you are” he praised you while pushing down the hem of his sweatpants along with his underwear- just enough to free his hardened length. A whimper escaped your lips once more at the way the tip nudged against your clit as he collected your slick to make it easier when he slides in.

“You made such a mess out of yourself” he teased, a huff of smoke leaving his lips as he takes the cigarette into his hand once more so he could let a glob of saliva dribble down onto your messy core, pushing himself into your entrance without further warning, bottoming out in just one thrust. A low groan rumbled in his chest at how your walls hugged him so snug, the warmth of your cunt making him shudder as he gave you a fraction of a moment to adjust before pulling out almost all the way until just the tip remained inside of you just to pound into you repeatedly. Your moans filled the room once more, louder this time as the noise of skin slapping against skinned joined the squelching noises of your wetness this time. Forgetting the cigarette between his lips, Shuji wrapped his arms around your thighs to pound into you better but the fire of his cigarette grazed your skin ever so slightly “oh shi-” he wanted to apologize but the way you moaned and clenched around him made him hold back. “Did you just moan?” He questioned with that smug grin, his hips coming to a stop until he saw you nod. A single moan fell from his lips at your response, leaning his head to the side and giving you a look “want me to do it again?” He asked curious, hips rocking into you slowly so you could form a proper sentence, needing to hear your permission out loud. “Yes… please” you mumbled softly, panting at how close you were and he knew by the way your walls fluttered around him and the bud of the cigarette once more touched your skin, again and again. The red marks littered around your ankle until he pushed the bud out against your skin, making you squirm in pleasure and pain, the intense wave of your orgasm finally washing over you.

“You're so fucking beautiful like this” he praised, tossing the burned out cigarette to the floor as he pounded into you with no regards of how sensitive you still were, chasing after his own release. The fact that you trusted him to burn you made him lose his mind, cock twitching when he gazed down onto the round marks as he kissed them each, the tip of his cock hitting your sweet spot repeatedly and throwing you into another orgasm which made him follow. Spurts of hot cum painted your walls white as his weight fell forward, now laying on the bed instead of standing in front of it and holding his weight up so he wouldn't crush you. With a small hiss he pulled out after both of you caught your breath again and moved down your body to suck marks onto your skin only he would see, littering your body with proof that you're his and his alone. When Shuji was done with worshiping your beautiful body he pushed some of his leaking cum back inside of you with his fingers, smirking up at you as he did so. “Just making sure my girl is properly taken care of” he chuckled as the pads of his slender fingers pushed against your sweet spot and making you moan once more from overstimulation but you knew he needed this, seeing you fucked, taking care of you in his own way. His cum mixed with your arousal as it started to leak onto his hands, pulling out to rub your clit in fast circles- your mixed juices aiding as lube. It didn't take long to coax another orgasm form you, your bundle of nerves burning up as you moaned his name like a lewd prayer and his movements started to slow down. Not thinking much in your state of ecstasy you reached for his hand, licking the remnants of both your arousal off of his fingers, smiling sweetly at him before pressing a kiss to his tattooed hand.

Small things like this made Shuji melt, feeling the love you put into everything you do he crawled up to pull you into his arms, his back resting against the headboard as you cuddled into his side and as always he reached for the nightstand, needing a smoke after fucking you. His arm pulled you closer once the cigarette was lit, humming softly when he took the first drag before offering it to you and linking his hand with yours while closing his eyes to enjoy the moment. The second he felt the warmth of the burning bud close to his hands they shot open, looking at you “what if I-” you couldn't finish your question before he pushed his hand into the bud, taking you off guard as you just wanted to tease him. “Do it” he dared you with a smirk. “Make them see I'm yours” he continued as he placed you onto his lap, his cigarette still resting between your lips as your hand wrapped around his throat, cigarette slowly coming down to his chest as you gave him another look to wait for his approval. “I'd be disappointed if I don't wear your initial” he smirked up at you and pushed your hand down ever so gently, wincing at the burning sensation right above his heart. The burns weren't deep, probably disappearing in a few days but in the meantime he would wear your initial burned to his heart, wanting you and everyone to know that he's entirely yours.

“Do you understand?” Kisaki asked which made you snap out of your little day dream, your cheeks heating up as you nodded “y-yeah” you mumbled, your hand reaching for your ankle, your legs still crossed. The way your boss nervously cleared his throat when he connected the dots between the burns on Shujis hand and your ankle let you knew that he was well aware of what must have happened.

Networks: @enchantedforest-network @themovingcastlez @planetonet @bitchcraftinc

[zvezdacito]

// TWST Book 7 spoilers, thoughts of Malleus's writing as a character

So I was reading some other people's opinions on why some people consider Malleus overrated/annoying, and tbh this makes me really sad. The general consensus is that a lot of people fixate on certain sides and can only see him as one extreme or the other and it results in many ppl thinking a watered down version of his character is how he is in canon.

I feel that its such a shame because he's the most interesting, compelling and well-rounded take on his character archetype I've seen.

From my observation, usually they kinda make this archetype (the broody misunderstood 'everyone fears him like a monster except for one special person') someone you can't take that seriously, because of how his struggle usually kind of written in a way where everyone involved feel less like actual fully fledged original characters and really just one note tropes interacting with other one note tropes.

To elaborate: What i mean when i say this is usually ppl who hate him kind of just do because of plot requires them to and to show how all their haters are "normies" who can't get him because 'he's not like everyone else'. The misunderstood guy still usually has toxic personality issues but the story really tends to make it feel like they don't fear him for that but because they're shallow and have prejudice to ppl like him, so his personality issues are not framed as wrong or character flaws.

I don't think there's anything inherenrly wrong or mediocre with the "one special person who gives him a chance before anyone else" trope like I'm literally a Malleyuu enjoyer lol but like i said its all in the execution cause otherwise it fails to be compelling and believable. Usually in the poorly written version of this trope the guy doesn't undergo any character development other than showing more emotion and kindess to his partner because they melted his ice I guess so it really makes his whole character feel like its revolves around the sake of romance and fanservice.

Malleus doesn't fall into this trap in my opinion because his situation despite how fantastical it is, the way he was written makes it believable as to why everything is the way it is with him, and it also challenges the viewer if they would be able to say they wouldn't fear him too in that situation.

"We're gonna give you this character who everyone sees as a monster and show you deep down he just wants the same love as everyone else, making you contemplate changing judgement on him. He wants to prove this, but his way of going about it always inadvertently harms others."

"You know where hes coming from and if he had that social connection to give him a better understanding of others this wouldn't be happening, but its also equally understandable that the people hes trying to connect with don't deserve this and fear him even more after this, trapping him in a cycle of isolation."

"Given his track record, do you go about giving him a chance or just considering the repeatedly proven danger he brings. With the valid reasons of both parties, can you really say he isn't a monster and demand that 'if only people be near him'?"

There's just such a tragic and thought-provoking dilemma to his character that adds so many layers that makes him so good.

As omniscient viewers we have the benefit of seeing what he's going through form his POV so we can sympathize with him and understand that he thinks what he's doing is the best course of action and he's just trying to create a "win for everyone" situation.

But also everything he does ironically reaffirms everyone's fear and distrust of someone like him. No one can deny he has a tendency to cause further destruction when he tries to do something "good", examples including: past Briar Valley lantern lighting fire, the Halloween 2 ghost world party, and now his Sleeping Curse stunt in Book 7 Part 2 (they really emphasize this by making the spoken name of his UM basically mean "Malicious Fairy" but have its written name used to convey what its meant to mean be "Blessing").

↑ Given this, it honestly makes sense others, especially those who don't know him all that well, would just expect the worst when he's around already, and you wouldn't be able to blame them for that given the track record. It doesn't help that this impression is worsened since he tends to cause misunderstandings due to his lack of familiarity with human social cues.

Alongside the bias and preconceived notions from his status and reputation, they also make a point on how his personality flaws are still also a huge factor in pushing people away, such as not being able to see things through the perspective of others.

He also holds a subconcious belief due to what has been ingrained in him since childhood as a Draconia and the next in line that because he's superior to others at certain things, he has the right and responsibility to decide on what will protect and help them, disregarding the individual values/priorities of human beings and leading him to take reckless and destructive action with good intentions.

His upbringing, character strengths and character flaws are all realistically connected to each other and the way they are subtly shown to be ever-present in defining his decisions, goals and thoughts throughout the whole story. So we don't really need to have a character go out of their way to exposition this to us this word for word just so we can understand and believe it.

Moving onto something slightly more lighthearted, I really also like how dorky Malleus surprisingly was. Other similar characters in the archetype I usually see don't really have any hobbies, interests, or quirks outside of being a broody authority figure, which might've been appealing to some at first but it really just gets stale and boring after a while.

This should be the bare minimum in making a fleshed out and interesting character so maybe i sound like im giving them too much credit for pointing it out😭 But yeah compared to the other examples it's good that Malleus has his Tamagotchi and Gargoyle interests it makes him feel like a believable person who has his own life going on too (with the bonus that these interests are also metaphors for aspects of his character). The gap moe adds an endearing side to him, and makes the gap between his intent and impact of his actions even more tragic. It wouldn't hit the same without this side.

(^ Forgot how the exact quote goes, but it basically said dark stories are more effective when there are moments of genuine happiness and good in them, compared to if it was always just grim and edgy. The former increases the stakes and tragedy because you have something you to care about losing, while for the latter there is nothing for you to care about so nothing the story does really matters. Same logic applies to Malleus)

Overall, it's just like an unfortunate incompatibility of goals and circumstances, which is what TWST is all about. Another thing I want to say is out of all the characters, I feel like Malleus is the one who is the ultimate embodiment of TWST's main themes:

-> How it's not about "hero" vs "villain" just differing circumstances crossing paths and clashing because of how people on either side have their own complex perspective and dreams they want to realize

-> And how connection and finding community is important to find people who will help you make up for what you lack in reaching your goals and to better understand all the factors that caused the situation in the first place.

As if seeing yourself reflected in a mirror, the more you get to know the people around you, you realize in many ways you are actually quite alike, and through understanding others you could also possibly better understand certain aspects of yourself. It's sort of encouraging you to do the opposite of dehumanizing others and yourself, which is something Malleus has most evidently internalized.

So yeah this was so long😭 I had a lot I wanted to say since Malleus is my favorite TWST character. Idk if I missed anything or if i managed to express my thoughts in a cohesive way but yeah. I kinda go into a rage whenever I see the worst takes ever be put out about his character but tbh sometimes I can't completely blame others since fandom trends and the convenience of simplifying things into tropes can warp your perception of a character and what you associate with them.

Also sometimes twst doesn't do a good job with utilizing his character like Book 5 where he got turned into a deus ex machina and Halloween 2 where they killed any hype and intrigue for the plot we had at the beginning through the ending reveal and gave the worst justification ever for Malleus and Lilia's actions ever.

Regardless, I hope more people manage to move past this and appreciate his character for what it really is soon though. He's an amazingly tragic character; a lot of thought was put into how his experiences, strengths and weaknesses would convincingly connect, and he represents something relevant in the story's plot and themes.

The fact that I've seen some people unironically believe that Malleus may just be faking his cluelessness of social cues to hide his "true evil" is evidence to how convincing his character's situation is, that even some in the audience who know more about him than the characters would still end up in the same place of doubt and distrust of Malleus because of what he's capable of.

Aight thank you for reading👍

[yelena-bellova]

Heartfirst: A Ted Lasso Story - Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen: Failure

Plot: Y/n deals with the emotional ramifications of her night with Jamie.

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: f!reader, heavily insinuated smut, language

A/N: We’re rounding the final turn and we’re nearly to the end…I mean, there’s five or six chapters left but we’re very much in the last quarter of the story. As always, I don’t let my characters just have their happy endings so fair warning lol. Hope you enjoy!!

——————

Most alcohol-drenched nights are followed by a healthy dose of regret the next morning. When the sun comes up and shines a light on mistakes made under the influence, there are red cheeks, apologies and promises to never let it happen again.

But when Y/n woke up, head pounding and body curled into Jamie’s, the earth beneath her shattered.

She was up and out of bed faster than her hangover wanted her to move. Thankfully, Jamie was a heavy sleeper and hadn’t budged when she slid out of his arms.

Y/n’s sober self had had the good sense not to unpack, cutting her getaway time in half. She threw on her jeans and sneakers from the day before, hurriedly threw her toiletry bag in her purse and tiptoed to the door.

Just as her hand reached for the knob, she looked back at Jamie. Peacefully sleeping, arm still stretched out around the air she’d occupied…

Y/n took a shuddering breath, pushing out the door before she could think anything of the sight.

Room 502 was closest to the elevator, giving her a quick escape. As she pressed the lobby and ‘door close’ buttons repeatedly, the memories began to flesh themselves out. As much as they could through the vodka fueled haze.

After dinner, Jamie and her had gone to a club. At some point, one of them had pulled one of them onto the dance floor. Y/n couldn’t remember who’d suggested it, only that it had sounded like a great idea in the moment. Things began to blur after that.

She frustratedly dug her palms into her eyes. How the hell could they let something like that happen?

In reality, it hadn’t been anyone’s idea. Y/n hadn’t invited Jamie in, and Jamie hadn’t asked. The whole thing had come about as naturally as the rest of their relationship. Their bleary and bright eyes had locked in the empty hall, Their bodies, so near, had drawn closer and their lips had met before they knew what they were doing.

Y/n’s stomach clenched, the nausea of both the hangover and the memory hitting suddenly.

The elevator dinged, signaling she’d arrived on the ground floor. She squeezed herself and her suitcase out the doors before they’s fully opened and marched through the lobby. It was still too early for the hotel to be busy, even for it being London. It felt like an hour only meant for people with secrets, sneaking out with nothing but shame and a prayer.

The brisk morning air slapped Y/n, angering her post-drunk state more. Nevertheless, she pushed forward and began to wave wildly at the street, waiting for a cab to catch the signal. She glanced over her shoulder every few seconds, half-expecting a half-dressed Jamie to come running through the lobby, chasing her down.

Blessedly, a cab pulled up to the curb and saved Y/n from the possibility. As the driver got out to help her with her suitcase, she stopped him.

“I’ve got it,” she called, waiting for him to pop the trunk and dropped her luggage in.

Y/n’s phone buzzed in her pocket and stole her focus. She opened her home screen to find the worst possible headlines.

‘Jamie Tartt Celebrates England Victory with Mystery Woman.’

‘Tartt’s New Tartt? New Couple Spotted Exiting Club.’

‘A Perfect 10? #9 and +1 Dance The Night Away.’

“Shit,” Y/n’s voice broke. The cars whooshing past her and their horns pulled her back to reality. She threw herself in the backseat and took stock of herself. She hadn’t realized how sweaty she was, how fast her chest was rising and falling, the slight tremble to her hands.

“Where to, love?”

Y/n jumped at the question, briefly meeting the cabbie’s eyes in the rear view mirror. “Richmond Green.”

He grunted in reply and steered the car back onto the road. As they pulled away, Y/n glanced back at the hotel. Jamie lay inside its heart, blissfully unaware of the nightmare waiting for him. Warm and solid, he’d stay asleep, holding onto her ghost.

In her stupor, she hadn’t even bothered to look at what top she’d been sleeping in. She didn’t recognize it. It was a dark grey t shirt, oversized with a familiar and distinct smell to it.

Jamie’s.

Y/n’s breath trembled, the tears welled in her eyes. She had made a terrible, terrible mistake.

—————————

“Fuck, shit, hell,” Y/n whispered under her breath, using every four letter word in her vocabulary. She hastened her steps, hitting the cobblestone of her street with a new fervor. She needed to be in her home, hidden from the world and everybody in it.

But the world was rarely ever so accommodating.

Stood outside Y/n’s door was Keeley, dressed more casually and fidgeting more than Y/n had ever seen.

“There you are!” Keeley exclaimed, running to her friend and grabbing her arms, “I’ve been texting you all morning.”

Y/n’s head throbbed at the pure volume of Keeley’s voice. If there’d been any alerts on her phone, she hadn’t seen them past the tabloid headlines. “Yeah, I, uh, went away for the night. Just to clear my head.”

Keeley was far too preoccupied to think anything of it. “I’ve got amazing news,” she smiled, “Rebecca offered to back the company.”

Either Y/n was dreaming, or the vodka was coming back for a second round of delusion. “What?”

“She’s financing us,” Keeley’s grin spread.

Y/n supposed that she should have felt relief. 24 hours before, she’d have been joined Keeley and probably started dancing in the street. The job she loved was saved. The life she’d built would stay whole.

Now it terrified her.

“Oh my gosh,” Y/n breathed, relieved at least that she still had a paycheck, “Wow. Okay.”

“I thought you’d be thrilled,” Keeley nudged Y/n’s arms, “You don’t have to leave Richmond now. Nothing changes.”

The fear deepened.

“Right, of course,” Y/n tried to smile, “I’m just…surprised.”

“Yeah, you and me both,” Keeley agreed, “I didn’t ask for her help or anything. She just offered and I tried to turn her down but…I really wanted to save this.”

Y/n ran a hand through her hair, her brain felt like it had been chopped into pieces and were floating around her skull. There was too much information to process, but this much she knew…

She’d slept with Jamie and she’d gotten her job at Richmond back.

Two things that couldn’t co-exist.

“Okay, I just wanted to tell you the news,” Keeley broke her out of her thoughts, cheerily wishing her goodbye.“I’ll leave you to your weekend.”

Just as she began to walk off, Y/n called her back. “Wait! You’re…you’re gonna need help getting the office back together. Why don’t I move into the building for a while?”

Keeley’s brows furrowed, “You want to leave Richmond?”

“I mean, there’s gonna be a shit ton of work to do,” Y/n explained, “Plus with a smaller staff, we’re going to have to work harder to maintain our clients. If I’m there, we can get twice as much done.”

Keeley didn’t object, giving the idea a fair hearing out.

“I can still take care of everything Richmond related,” Y/n assured, she was half defending the idea to herself, “Just from a distance.”

It had been an emotional 72 hours, for both women. Keeley had lost her company and gained it back, among other events. She was still raw. If Y/n was willing to help, she wasn’t going to turn it down.

Keeley reached for Y/n’s hands, her voice lowering. “Thank you.”

Y/n took a breath of relief, the whole plan hinged on Keeley not asking questions.

“Okay,” Keeley smiled, “Go get some rest. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

“You got it,” Y/n replied, squeezing Keeley’s hands before parting. As soon as her boss’s back was turned, Y/n’s smile collapsed.

She unlocked her apartment door and shoved inside. She fell against the wood as soon as it shut.

Y/n had allowed herself to open up to her co-workers because it had killed her not to. She’d craved their kinship more than she’d coveted her solitude. It had been difficult, letting the Greyhounds in, but they hadn’t disappointed her. She’d had no regrets.

Until now.

Not only was her friendship with Jamie ruined by one stupid decision, it had opened the floodgates to all sorts of questions. Why had this happened? Was there a reason why it had happened with Jamie specifically? What was he thinking? What was he feeling? What was she feeling?

Was there…something?

Y/n had successfully avoided getting attached to anyone past a platonic level. But Jamie had become…something far past a friend. He was an extension of her, like an arm or leg might be. No one had ever gained her trust like he had. No one had ever made her happier than he had. If Y/n hadn’t known better, she’d have thought he was somehow sent to help heal her.

Days before, when she’d thought she had lost her job, the thought of leaving Jamie had leveled her. It had driven her to tears before she could get the full idea through her head. Missing Rebecca or Keeley would hurt, but nothing and no one could compare to losing Jamie.

Somewhere in her subconscious, Y/n could recall the kisses they’d shared. The feel of Jamie’s arms wrapped around her, hands grasping at whatever he could hold. But above all else, she could still feel the tenderness. The safety. The peace.

Y/n knew by the ache in her chest, she’d failed.

She buckled under the weight of the revelation, sinking to ground and curling in on herself. The tears came quick, as they only could from true emotion. The kind of feeling that holds the power to lift you up or crush your soul.

She was fucked.

—————————

Was avoiding your problems harder than dealing with them?

Y/n pondered the question as she circled Nelson Road Stadium for the third time. Practice started at 10AM sharp, but she was waiting a few extra minutes. Chances couldn’t be taken.

It had been nearly a week since the Wembley match and she’d developed a system to avoid ever crossing paths with Jamie. She’d packed up her office essentials the day after Keeley had given her the good news. She scheduled her meetings with Rebecca and Higgins during training and made sure she was out the door before the boys broke for lunch. All other matters were handled over email. So far it had been successful, she hadn’t seen Jamie once.

Privately, she’d dodged 32 calls, 15 voicemails and 25 text messages.

She knew she was running, that it wasn’t fair to Jamie just up and leaving that morning without so much as a note. But her fear was stronger than her empathy.

Since returning to Richmond, Y/n had felt the sparkle fade. The quaint little town’s magic was either passing over her head or had denounced her entirely. She supposed, as she passed the Crown and Anchor on her way home, that it had to do with her mood. Nothing had seemed right in the world since her night with Jamie.

Pulling her keys out her purse, Y/n looked ahead to her front door. There on her front stoop, anxiously tapping his foot was the very man she’d been avoiding.

Jamie looked up, half-surprised that she was actually there. He jumped to his feet and pushed back the hood of his sweatshirt. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Y/n replied, her voice unnaturally high.

There was an overwhelming amount of things to be said but neither of them could utter one. The last time they’d seen each other had created ten new walls for them to break through.

“I, uh,” Jamie scratched the back of his neck, “I tried callin’ ya and texting ya.”

Y/n took a deep breath, “Yeah, um, I’ve been busy.”

“Yeah,” Jamie nodded, “Course.”

Y/n fiddled with her keys as he fisted his pockets nervously. Their conversations had never been so lacking.

Jamie inhaled, “Look, I need to apologize for that night-“

“No,” Y/n squeezed her eyes shut, “Jamie-“

“No, I just need you to know that I didn’t, like,” he struggled, “Plan it or something.”

“Neither did I,” Y/n shook her head.

“I didn’t think that was gonna happen.”

“I didn’t either.”

Their words overlapped each other, both so eager to clear the air. The only difference were their intentions.

“Look, Jamie,” Y/n pinched the bridge of her nose, “What happened was a mistake. We were both drunk, we were both excited about the win and it just happened. I don’t blame you for anything so…we’re good. We never have to talk about it again.”

Jamie wasn’t sure how he’d expected the moment to go, but Y/n brushing off the whole thing was…it wasn’t it.

“Right, yeah,” he nodded. He had a choice in front of him, two conversational roads leading to either the best or worst conclusions. Jamie knew if he didn’t try, he’d regret it. “But…what if it wasn’t a mistake?”

Y/n was firm in her stance, but it didn’t show through her person. She was nearly trembling. “No, Jamie, it was.”

“No, I get we were drunk and there was a lot goin’ on, but,” Jamie took a hesitant step forward, “What if…what if we…I don’t know, what if it meant-“

“Jamie,” Y/n cut him off. Where his thoughts were leading was unbearable and she refused to entertain any part of it. “We fucked up. We don’t have to talk about it.”

In the days since the England win, Jamie had gone through every emotion he thought himself capable of feeling, plus a few new ones. The second he’d woken up in bed alone, he knew it hadn’t started that way. He’d put back together the memories of the night, dancing and drinking, stumbling back into the hotel room. Y/n was at the center of it all, soft and warm and his, just for a moment in time. Before he’d even opened his eyes that fateful morning, Jamie was at peace.

The calm ended the moment he glanced around the room and realized Y/n had left. In a hungover panic most likely, she’d run out. Jamie had been quick to try and catch her, throwing his clothes on and running down to the lobby. There was no trace or her. Back in the room, he’d found nothing left over of her. Jamie knew he’d messed up before he even knew if the blame was his to take.

He’d texted her, asking to talk. When there was no reply, he called and left messages, begging for two minutes of her time. He’d waited in the parking lot of Nelson Road, watching for her car to pull in until the very last minute before training. He’d raced into the building after each practice, roaming the halls expectantly. He’d knocked on her office door ten times a day, finding it empty every time. Finally, when he felt like he was fully losing his mind, Jamie drove to her place. He’d stay on her doorstep all night, that was perfectly fine with him. He needed to see her.

All of it had confirmed in Jamie’s head what his heart already knew.

He was crazy about Y/N.

He wasn’t sure when it had happened or what had changed, but somewhere along the line he’d fallen for her. The only thing about their night together Jamie regretted was how it happened. He didn’t want some drunken hook-up. He didn’t know what the fuck he wanted, but it wasn’t what had brought them to that moment. Standing outside of Y/n’s flat, avoiding the topic in its entirety.

Jamie swallowed, his eyes bouncing around her face looking for any cracks in her exterior. She wasn’t budging.

“Yeah,” he relented, “Okay.”

The conversation had scared Y/n enough, she was terrified to face Jamie in all her uncertainty about him. What truly made her afraid was the hesitation in Jamie’s eyes, the new tenderness in which he looked at her with. The possibility that he knew exactly what he felt. Y/n couldn’t handle any of it.

“So…we’re good,” she faked a smile, it didn’t reach half her face.

“Yeah,” Jamie’s whole body seemed to be caving in on itself. His tall posture had become lazy, his head drooped with resignation, “We’re good.”

In the space between them rested everything they weren’t saying, creating an ever thicker silence.

“I’ll, uh,” Jamie briefly pointed down the street, “Guess I’ll see ya at work.”

“Yeah,” Y/n tried to sound cheery, “See you.”

With clear hesitation, the two of them walked past one another, Jamie toward the road and Y/n to her door.

“Wait,” Y/n called, slipping her key in the lock and popping inside.

Jamie stayed on the sidewalk, his eyes tracing the stairs past the door. He’d never not been invited in.

Y/n crossed back over the threshold, holding a folded piece of grey fabric in her hand. She held it out to Jamie.

“I, uh,” she stammered, “I’ve been meaning to get this back to you.”

Jamie unfolded it to find it was one of his shirts. In their drunken stupor, he must have given it to her to sleep in. The crack developing in his chest deepened.

“Great,” he quickly covered, balling the top up and nodding gratefully.

“I washed it,” Y/n added.

“Yeah, thanks,” Jamie replied, he didn’t even know what he was saying. They’d crossed some new line of intimacy and it was killing him. If nothing more was going to come from them talking, he needed to leave. “I’ll see ya.”

Y/n’s breath caught as Jamie hastily descended her front steps and walked off into the night. He didn’t look back.

Entering her apartment and shutting the door, Y/n felt like she’d just laid a part of herself to rest. Simultaneously, a piece she’d long thought dead was blooming back to life. Neither one settled her.

Allowing herself to feel…something…for someone was the great mile marker she never dared to cross. It was one thing to get coffee with Keeley or go out clubbing with the team. It was a whole other arena to let someone to see her most vulnerable self. To give someone your best, your worst, and everything in between. To trust someone that much…

Y/n knew she could never let someone in that far, and that it had been a mistake to let Richmond in at all.

She sat down on her staircase, pulling her knees to her chest. She could never come so close to losing her sanity again. Whether she liked it or not, everything had to be different going forward.

——————

Heartfirst Taglist: @lalla-04p @optimisticsandwichgladiator @makingmunson94 @taytaylala12 @storysimp @sokkigarden @lightninginab0ttle @poohkie90 @alipap3 @verra-nerevarine @shineforever19 @spaceagechimera @burnafter-reading @qardasngan @cyberpvnk-enthusiast @sogoodtoheritsvicious @buckybarnex @angelsunflxwer @blueanfield @thewildestwonderland @sablecities @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @strawberryacethingz @mentalistfan @tortilla-maria1 @katdahlali @for-fuck-sake-im-alive @glitterquadricorn @jamieolivia27 @imvibin69 @katlizada @lil-tracys @fanaticalfantasist @heyitz-julia @cactajuice @peachyy-tea @notalxx @rockchickrebel @anxiety-prime-max @loveforaugust @jellycolors @actuallybarb @heletsmelovehim @lovinnscarletknight @imfalling-inlove @leslieiscrying @meg-ro @littlemisssunshine192 @beboldbebravethings @maydayfigment @spencerreidsbookclub @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @lemoonandlestars @im-a-weirdo-for-life @mindless-rock (tags cont. in comments ❤️)

[cryptid-on-a-string]

In honor of the Ides of March, I would like to describe the time last year in English class, when a few of my classmates had to act out the Caesar assassination scene in Shakespeare’s “Julius Caesar”:

-our teacher tried to supply them with costumes, but he couldn’t find any ancient Roman clothes in his classroom, and the closest he could find were Batman and Robin costumes, and bright blue and red tablecloths for the people to wear.

-he couldn’t find anything to use as knives either, so all the conspirators had to stab Caesar with rulers

-At this point, everyone who volunteered was now standing in front of the class wearing either a superhero costume or a giant table cloth draped around them, carrying a ruler in one hand and a script in the other

-the whole time when everyone is reading their lines from the paper, our teacher was loudly and meticulously shouting stage orders of how they should read each of their lines, disrupting the flow of the scene in the process

-the kid who volunteered to be Caesar didn’t want to kneel before another character when he was instructed to, he didn’t want to “appear weak” because it was “embarrassing” (he only volunteered to be Caesar because he didn’t know the plot of the play, and just saw that he was the titular character. He literally did not know that this was going to happen.)

-when the stabbing happened, the people acting as the conspirators underestimated how hard you can hit someone with a ruler before it starts to hurt, so they all slapped Caesar with rulers really hard, and at one point, I heard some genuine shouts of pain from that poor guy.

-guy playing Caesar didn’t know how to pronounce “Et tu, Brute?” So when the teacher instructed him “ok this is the most famous line, say it with power!” The kid stared at the script and disgruntledly mumbled “Eat two, Broot.”

-the teacher had to repeatedly tell him to fall over for the death scene, and when the kid finally listened, he just kind of toppled over like a sad bowling pin.

it was the funniest thing I had ever seen, and the best interpretation of Caesar’s death scene I had ever witnessed.

[blog-name-idk]

The Plot Twist | 03

Written by @blog-name-idk and @eserethriddle

Summary: Once upon a time you would have jumped at the chance to live the idol girlfriend life. The cameras, the action, the whirlwind romance. But what was once a dream has now become your worst nightmare, and you fully intend to fight the universe as it repeatedly conspires to set you up with your seven perfectly good soulmates from Bangtan Sonyeondan.

In which we punt Y/N into all the fanfiction tropes and you do your feral best to subvert the love story.

Because nani the fuck, you are The Plot Twist.

Pairing: OT7 X Fem!Reader

Genre: Soulmate!AU, crack, humor, idol!AU, light angst, slow burn, romantic comedy, just a fun silly old time

Rating: 18+

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Chapter 3: "I'm moving out."

You've never been a hypochondriac. Each time something strange and new occurred over the past week, you simply normalized it and moved on. But seven sevens mysteriously appearing on your skin the morning after your fever spell were admittedly too much, too eerie.

Something was definitely up.

So you went to the all-seer, the earthly keeper of scientific knowledge, the only place that could tell you what the hell was going on with concrete authority: NaverMD.

But then even you and NaverMD were stumped. Feeding your symptoms into the search engine reported a limited consensus of only two diagnoses. Dr. Naver, MD concluded that you either had a soulmate, or some extremely rare, spontaneous condition in which all your toenails will fall off and cause your eventual and sudden death.

Well, actually, no, the first diagnosis was cancer. But it always is, even when you're just constipated from too many snacks and too little fiber, so you discarded that one immediately.

Despite yourself, you found yourself leaning towards the worse of the two. Because somehow even the prospect of a bizarre, yet-unproven disease still seemed more believable than you having a soulmate.

And then you made your first mistake.

Oh, how simple life had been. You were just a wee child, trying to narrow down your suspicions, so young and naive. You never stopped to realize that some things were better left unknown, uncharted.

Like some theological figures before you, you couldn't resist the forbidden fruit of knowledge. Too drawn by the serpentine lure of instant internet search results, you plugged "7 tattoo" into Naver. And now you must live with your decision.

Because smoldering at you from behind your suddenly hateable phone screen are seven men widely considered to be amongst Korea's national treasures.

The thus-far revealed tattoo locations match some of yours, and you try to stave away the sinking feeling that the remaining others are just as accurate. Because that would mean…

…That would mean…

You have a soulmate. Soulmates.

Seven soulmates… who happen to be Bangtan Seonyeondan.

And that’s the moment your mind breaks.

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It's fine. You're fine. You are handling recent revelations with utmost grace and dignity.

Or at least you are sticking your pinky up as you completely obliterate a tub of ice cream in panic. It takes all the poise you can muster. Understandably. And then you almost throw up all that processed dairy back up, your stomach churning too much for you to punish it with cookies and cream like your usual comfort mechanism.

Why is this happening? Why you? You're not some chosen one, and you've never wanted to be the main character in some lame k-drama or fanfiction.

Maybe this is a weird prank your mother concocted to punish you for completely ignoring her texts and forgetting your "obligations" – i.e. popping out grandchildren for her to coo over. And that, to her well-meaning if conservative outlook, requires a well-established partnership and romance at the minimum. Your father must have let slip that you've skipped all of the group dating events she's been spamming your family group-chat with.

Your caring, loving, ruthless mother has picked your worst nightmare and brought it to reality, all to teach you a lesson. To try to ensure that you find love before you reach hagdom at thirty and must be sent to live shrouded in the woods, away from decent, beautiful society. (Her words, despite the fact that she herself is quite a ways past that age. Not that you would ever point that out. You value your life.)

The thought calms you, and you decide to vacuum the feathers from the pillows you destroyed in a fit of rage and madness. You needed to buy new throw pillows, anyway.

The loud drone of the vacuum soothes you further. Of course, having more than one soulmate is possible, but extremely unlikely. Having seven? Who happen to be the some of the most famous people in the world? That is as statistically likely as you winning the lottery seven times in a row. Probably less, actually.

Pfft! Soulmates? Hah! Nice try, eomma.

You have to hand it to her, she really had you going there for a second. You chuckle to yourself as you turn off the vacuum and go to empty it in the trash. Noticing your kitchen trash is full, you tie it off and carry it downstairs to the garbage room.

You feel oddly pensive as you carry the bag down. Perhaps something about the odor of the two-day old kimchi jjigae leftovers emanating from the plastic is addling your brain, because despite your rationalization you now can't stop thinking about the concept of soulmates.

It seems like there's so much that goes into a partnership, even with pre-destined compatibility. Sure, your parents are soulmates and love each other very much, but that doesn't mean their marriage is perfect. The equilibrium, the joy, the easy comfort they find in each other now is the result of many years of growing both together and apart, of being their own individuals who have learned to fit into each other like puzzle pieces.

They are soulmates, but their happiness wasn't fated. Perhaps the universe contrived for them to meet, but their bond was forged by their own hands. They chose each other.

You can't imagine ever giving someone the keys to your heart and trusting them not to disappoint you.

Or trusting yourself not to disappoint them.

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On your way back to your floor, you’re surprised to see your landlord with a guest when you step into the building elevator.

“Oh, great timing! Say hello, this young man moving in at 8004, right next to you,” your landlord says.

Your new neighbor is decked out in a bucket hat and oversized sweater ensemble. You see the moon tattoo peeking out from the back of his sweater and gulp.

That… That can’t be Park Jimin… right?

A split second, and that’s when everything you have been avoiding clicks with the finality of a key turning in a lock.

The call with Mijin, the anomalies you’d experienced, the comical twist of your recent everyday life.

It wasn't a prank.

And despite all the very real and terrifying things your mother is capable of, surely this coincidence is beyond even her ability to machinate. Which can only mean one thing.

You do have soulmates, and the universe has begun plotting.

But you… you refuse to do this. You’re not a little girl that the world can tell to spin in her skirt and flutter her lashes. There are things worth fighting against, and these things are love and the eventual disappointment of finding out that the person you adored is fallible and rife with flaws. All the more so when it's an idol with a perfect shiny image to uphold.

Despite your earlier post-Naver meltdown, you now find yourself strangely calm. This is a do-or-die situation, and you have never been one to go down without a fight. Your will shall not be bent, no matter what anyone says about "fate."

You realize your new neighbor is peering at you curiously, and you staunchly avoid his gaze. Your hair falls in front of your face like you're Sadako from The Ring, because you don't want him to remember any identifying features. Your landlord looks confused at your silence, but says nothing, and an awkward silence envelops the cramped confines of the elevator.

When the elevator finally, finally dings open, you refuse to wait and walk with your companions like a normal person. To both your landlord and your – ugh – soulmate's shock, you power walk out of there like you're an ahjumma heading to the store on discount day. When you finally make it to your once-safe haven, your now forsaken sanctuary, you slam the door behind you.

With your heart thundering in your chest, you look in the mirror and take in frantic breaths.

You decide once and for all.

“Let’s not fall in love,” you tell yourself, the promising ferocity in your eyes a hand-me-down from your mother.

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Today is a good day, thinks Kim Jaehyung. The sun is shining, his wife is making his favorite oxtail soup for dinner, and he's finally managed to rent out the last vacant unit in his building. The new tenant is polite and, more importantly, has paid the entire lease up front without even needing any bank loans.

The only blip is his other tenant's odd behavior in the elevator, and the way you practically fled into your apartment. The new renter is a handsome young man – Jaehyung would have thought that a pretty girl about his age would have been happy to show him the ins and outs of the building. Though perhaps you needed to go to the bathroom – he's certainly had those moments.

"She's my neighbor?" the man asks, sounding curious, his gaze following the way you speed walk away from them.

"Yes! Right next door," Jaehyung replies, trying to remember the new tenant's name. He had just looked at the lease agreement, too! "She's normally very accommodating, so I'm sure the two of you will get along well."

As if to mock his statement, your door slams shut behind you. With a shrug, Jaehyung leads the renter – Park! That was it! Tenant Park! – to the door next to yours.

After showing Park-ssi his new apartment and handing him the keys, Jaehyung is in the elevator when his phone buzzes in his pocket.

You I'm moving out

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You're exhausted. You might have told your landlord you were moving, but finding a new place within your budget that doesn't come with charming qualities like decorative mold or live-in, six-legged pets is proving difficult on such short notice.

Why isn't Park Jimin of fucking BTS living in one of the more expensive areas of Seoul, anyway? Why would someone that rich and famous choose your cozy, decent little building? He's gentrifying your already gentrified neighborhood! You're too accustomed to the luxuries of upper-middle class life to be happy about being forced out.

So you've taken to leaving home absurdly early and working until late, in hopes of avoiding any run-ins with your soulmate neighbor.

Despite your best efforts, you have somehow managed to end up alone in the elevator with Jimin. You were already inside, and he was running for the door looking so frazzled you didn't have the heart to press the close button on him. Curse the universe for taking advantage of your kind heart and gentle, amiable nature.

"Thank you," Jimin gasps, clearly out of breath. A bead of sweat trickles down from his temple, which you definitely do not notice. "I forgot my wallet."

He takes off his mask to breathe more easily, and you try to look anywhere but at his plump lips and the way his eyes squish when he smiles at you. The universe may have all manner of nefarious powers at its beck and call, but that smile might be the deadliest weapon of all.

"No problem," you mutter, hoping he never sees you again and yet also wishing you had used more eye cream today. Thankfully, the elevator is fast, but as the door dings open somehow Jimin keeps pace with you.

"We didn't get a chance to formally meet," he says cheerfully, somehow keeping stride with you despite your best efforts to break the world record for fastest casual walk. "I'm Jimin. What's your name?"

The simple, completely normal question makes you panic. You've reached your door and you gaze longingly at the handle, dreaming of the safety that beckons on the other side. So near, but so far.

You unlock it, and realize he's paused next to you, awaiting your response. That violently sweet smile is still on his face, and you find yourself staring dazedly at him for a moment before snapping out of it.

You need to exit this situation. Immediately.

You open the door and look him dead in the eye. "I don't talk to strangers."

Swiftly stepping inside, you close the door firmly behind you and try not to dwell on the fact that he is just as beautiful with his mouth hanging open.

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Jimin stares in shock at the closed door in front of him, wondering what on earth he did wrong. He just wants to be on friendly terms with his neighbors – well, especially the pretty one – but you seem to be avoiding him like the plague.

Maybe you're shy? Or slow to trust? Jimin doesn't think he's been doing anything threatening or overly familiar – certainly nothing to warrant the way you almost flee whenever you see him.

Then again, he's not a single (well, not that he knows whether you're single or not, but you seem to live alone, and haven't had any visitors of any gender despite being quite attractive, not that he's spent that much time thinking about whether or not you are single or anything) young woman living alone, so perhaps his judgment is biased.

Maybe he just needs to try harder! Show you that he really does have good intentions. Or would that be creepy?

It's been so long since anyone has treated him like this – just a regular, pesky person – that he can't help but be endeared.

And intrigued.

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These days even the temporary security personnel know your name. They know to expect you putting in overtime, but for today’s working hours you’ve completely outdone yourself.

It's late. Late enough that even for a workaholic Korean, you're the last one out of the office. You begin to make the trek to the train station, grabbing your keys from your oversized purse in case any weirdos try to follow you. Though then again, your bag itself could probably be a decent weapon – your building was updating and refreshing all of the first-aid stations, and so you have a bulky, metal kit weighing you down.

It would be kind of funny, actually, if you were able to injure someone with a first-aid kit. Something, something, irony.

You smile, mildly amused at the thought, but it quickly fades when you see a figure slumped on a bench at the bus stop. It looks to be a man, dressed in torn clothing, and when he shifts you see bruises littering his skin. His hair and eyes are hidden by the brim of a black baseball cap, and his features are otherwise also covered by a black mask, and you wonder if his face is also in bad shape.

You make your way closer, the kit weighing heavily in your purse, because you're an idiot who can't leave well enough alone.

"Do you need help?" you ask carefully, standing just slightly far away in case this is a violent person who's going to lunge at you. The man looks up in surprise, and you feel your lunch try to make a resurgence.

Because staring back at you with a black eye is Min Yoongi of BTS.

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Yoongi exhales and slumps forward on the bench outside the photoshoot location, wondering why he's been feeling so off lately. It's not quite the same as the depression slumps he's used to – rather than numbness, it just feels like something is missing.

The only time the feeling recedes is at night, when the ghost of that strange lullaby whispers at the edges of his mind. Yoongi's put the basic melody to paper, but he can't get it quite right. Every time he tries, it's like some note eludes him, flitting out of reach just before he can grasp them.

"Do you need help?"

Yoongi almost jumps before looking up to see a prim, well-dressed woman gazing at him in a mixture of suspicion and concern. Your eyes widen at his face, and he can register the exact moment you realize who he is.

Fuck.

You look horrified, which is not the expression he's used to seeing from fans. You take a step back, half turning as if to run. Also not something that typically happens.

Yoongi should leave, return to the photoshoot, find his manager and tell him he's been spotted in case damage control is needed. Instead he finds himself strangely spellbound, staring as your jaw clenches and your eyes close. You set your shoulders as if steeling yourself for war and turn back to him.

You reach into your purse and he tenses, ready to hide his face for when you inevitably pull out your phone to try to take a picture of him with fake bruises all over his face.

To his utter bemusement, instead of a phone, you pull out a metallic-looking case and toss it at him without warning. Yoongi is too taken aback to do anything other than watch it clatter to the ground.

"What the–" he begins, but you whip back around before he can finish and take off as fast as your heels allow. "...Fuck?"

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As far as obnoxious things the universe has thrown at you go, this one isn't so bad.

That's what you tell yourself as you stare at the very shiny, very pointy looking knife being brandished in your face in the alley you use as a shortcut home.

At least it's not a soulmate.

"There's no one here to rescue you, little girl," this apparent mugger gloats, and for a moment you actually feel a little flattered. Little girl? Really? At twenty-five? That's downright polite, honestly.

"Huh? Is everything okay back there?" calls a strangely familiar voice, making the both of you freeze. Thanks to your recent frantic googling and research, you recognize it surprisingly quickly, and you gasp and look your assailant dead in the eye.

"Kill me. Right now," you order, your voice leaving no room for argument. The maniacal glint leaves your attacker's gaze and he stares at you in confusion. And perhaps a little fear.

"Uh, what?"

"Fucking do it, bitch," you hiss, casting your gaze frantically behind him to see if the owner of the voice is coming to investigate. You point at your chest, where you assume your heart probably is. If you have one. "Right here."

"What the fuck, no, I just want your money?" he says in bewildered tones, beginning to back away from you. You hear footsteps from behind him, and panic begins to set in.

"DID I FUCKING STUTTER?" you screech, wanting your attacker to just hurry the fuck up already. Seriously if he wasn't prepared to stab someone why the hell is he waving around a knife? What a little bitch. This is the problem with youth these days – all talk and no follow-through.

"You know what, fuck it, just go," the guy finally says, dropping the knife to the floor. "This is too much for me. I should have just gone to trade school like my mom wanted."

"Whatever dude," you say with a shrug, taking the opportunity to gear up and sprint out of the alley. You pass a confused looking Kim Taehyung, and pat yourself on the back for avoiding another contrived situation the universe tried to force onto you. It can take its cosmic intervention theory and shove it up its black hole where the stars don't shine.

Unfortunately you don't realize that to Taehyung, time slows as you run by. The scent of your hair, the silhouette of your lips… he is utterly captivated. He can't help but to peek into the alley to see where you were coming from, and is surprised to see a masked man just standing there, staring blankly at the ground. Metal glints, and he's shocked to realize that it's not the ground that has drawn the man's attention, but a knife.

"Yeah, I'm not cut off for this," he hears the guy mumble as he kneels down to pick up the weapon. Taehyung tenses, unsure of what to do, only for the man to toss it into a dumpster. "I… I should go apologize to mom."

Had this man tried to attack that girl? Taehyung's fist clenches at the thought, an uncharacteristic flare of anger lighting his chest. Then it relaxes as it dawns on him that you must have talked the man down. Not just talk him down, but give up on his supposed path of crime entirely.

So not just beautiful, but intelligent too. Empathetic. You probably love animals, because he can already tell you're perfect.

For days after, he can't get the strange girl out of his head, or the smell of your flowery shampoo out of his nose.

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You should have known. You should have fucking known.

"Eomma," you say carefully, lest you invite another scolding from your mother that leaves you equal parts guilty and offended. "This is a very strange place for auntie's birthday."

She purses her lips, managing to look simultaneously irritated with you and pleased with herself, and shoves you forward.

You sigh, resigned, and begin to walk inside the building with slumped shoulders, heels clicking morosely beneath your feet. Until the very pointed throat clearing behind you automatically straightens your spine in a lecture-induced response you have never been able to shake.

"Are you here for the dating event?" chirps the far-too-chipper woman at the front desk, face brightening at the appearance of such a lovely attendee. You force a smile in response, glancing over your shoulder to see that yes, your mother is still watching outside with her arms crossed.

You send her a wave that just makes her tap her foot impatiently. With a sigh, you turn around and nod.

"Yes," you respond with all the joy of a human sacrifice walking to their doom. "I guess I am."

The employee beams at you and pushes forward a form for you to fill out. When you check the box indicating that you indeed have been experiencing soulmate phenomena, because you're an idiot who can't lie even to save yourself, her smile grows even wider.

"It's so great that you're taking initiative," she gushes, oblivious to the way you are now grinding your teeth. "Some people think cosmic intervention will take care of everything, and never end up meeting their soulmate!"

God, goddesses, saints and shamans, whoever the fuck, you think silently. That is literally all I want.

For a moment the image of two spinsters laughing at your pain flashes through your mind, but it's gone before you can really register what happened. What you do notice is that your mother has left.

"Oops, I think I left my ID in my car," you say with a smile suddenly much more genuine than before. "I'll be right back."

The poor, unsuspecting attendant just nods, and you're out the door and around the corner just as a black Palisade rolls up to the building.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

The store owner blinks in surprise at your appearance. It's broad daylight, and most of his customers are kids and teenagers. Grown adults don't tend to come here, other than the idol who thinks he's sneaky and the tired salarywoman who –

"Hey, Lee-ssi!" you greet cheerfully, sliding your game card out of your dainty purse. "Is there a new score for me to beat today?"

Lee Seungwon blinks again. You're wearing a sleek maroon dress that ends right above your knees, your hair is coiffed, you smell like a field of flowers instead of burnt coffee, and your face is powdered to perfection.

"[L/N]-ssi?" he asks tentatively. It looks like you. It sounds like you. But he wants to make sure, because you look far too perky for someone dressed like they're supposed to be on a date.

"Yes?" you reply, looking just as confused as he feels. "Is something wrong?"

"Er, no," he replies, accepting the game card from your manicured hand. "The usual? 2,000W?"

You grin and nod, prancing off to the Pacman machine with a bounce to your step.

Seungwon feels a strange sense of foreboding.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Seokjin is the best hyung. Obviously. He's handsome, he's funny, he cooks, he takes care of his brothers, and even drives them to speed-dating events that are objectively a terrible idea.

In fact, he's such a great hyung that instead of returning immediately home, he deserves a little bit of fun. So he heads to a familiar little establishment. Seokjin's managed to re-establish his place as number one in Pacman, but it can't hurt to fill up the leaderboard even more and show that immature punk who's boss.

The fact that he is a grown man in a silent war with a child over an arcade game wooshes gently over his fluffy hair.

Lee-ssi's eyes widen in surprise when Jin walks in, and the idol follows the dart of the elderly man's gaze to see a maroon dress and a very shapely backside. He stifles a sigh when he realizes it is parked right in front of the Pacman machine, and that he likely can't even ask the woman to hurry up lest she recognize him.

Then he realizes that she is inputting a name on the high score screen.

Right above his.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Masterlist | Next

[iambicpentameterhamster]

Every umbrella academy character ranked

Prior to Season 4 coming this year, thought I'd share my character rank with you for the first 3 seasons all together. (Spoilers ahead)

#33- Marcus, Jayme, Alphonso and Fei

Painfully insignificant and underdeveloped. Their only character traits being "spoiled and a bit evil" made them EXTREMELY captivating villians...

#32- Christopher

Only higher because I find the idea of someone carrying around a cube on a stick onset really funny.

#31- Sparrow Ben

Hard to watch honestly, especially in comparison to his lovely counterpart Umbrella Ben.

In general, the Sparrows were terrible and pointless characters, and clearly the writers knew this because most were killed off pretty quickly. All except for Sparrow Ben, which just meant we had to suffer watching him for even longer.

#30- Viktor

This is a controversial choice. He is tolerable in season 1, but then just becomes a moochy emo sod who is boring to watch. I don't know if it's the acting, script or both, but he’s just such a meek and flavourless character who is PARTICULARLY bad in season 3 when he jeopardises his whole family and is repeatedly selfish and has a victim complex.

#29- Luther

He caused the apocalypse in season one and you can't convince me otherwise. Got some alamaba shit going on with Allison...

There are so many reasons I hate Luther. He's a self-centred man child who couldn't care less about his siblings and their feelings, showing zero empathy to Klaus or Vanya, for example. He only shows respect and kindness when he is attracted to the person (As shown when seasons 1 and 2 he is only nice to Allison, then completely ignores her when he moves on to Sloane) or when they pose as an authority figure to him. All he does is whine and feel sorry for himself.

What's that? You lived in the apocalypse all alone for 40 years? You are addicted to drugs and lost the love of your life in a war? You have a power you can't control and a lifetime of rejection? WELL LUTHER WENT TO THE MOON

#28- Carl Cooper

Hated him as a character but he was a menacing villian which I can respect

#27- Harlan

Couldn't care less about him, only there for plot convenience and Victor's arc pretty much

#26- Sloane

An improvement from Luther's literal sibling. Further evidence that Luther will simply fall for any woman who gives a flying fuck about the moon.

Personality: attracted to Luther

#25- Pogo

Basil exposition of the first series

#24- Detective Patch

Barely remember her

#23- The Swedes

They were kind of goofy as villians but there was some good acting and they posed a real threat. Cute moments with the cats. In general, alright, but they could have easily been replaced plot wise with something more interesting.

#22- Cha Cha

Lack of character development for me. I think she deserved to be fleshed out more, I don't think it's fair that only her partner got to be a three-dimensional being. What are her motivations? Who is she underneath it all?

But overall i liked the acting and she was a good villian.

#21- That hotel worker from season 3

He's barely a character but I liked his sass so he's on the list.

#20- Reggie (Reginald Hargreeves)

He is supposed to be the main antagonist/villian of the show, yet The Handler stole his spotlight. He's a bit too stereotypically evil and asshole-ish for me, basically twiddling his moustache and stroking a cat in a dark corner the entire show. The delivery is too blunt and that doesn't help to build the tension and mystery surrounding him as much, but if he were more complicated and cryptic in his personality it would be more effective.

This is very nit picky and overall Reggie is fine. He has some hilarious moments with Klaus in season 3 and I am genuinely intrigued about the unanswered questions surrounding him.

#19- Elliott

He wasn't a particularly important or central character but I enjoyed it when he was on screen and he played his role convincingly. He was a good comic relief in some scenes, and when he died (spoiler alert) the reactions from other characters were realistic and quite impactful. I felt for him throughout, which is impressive for less significant characters and he had a lot of depth relative to the size of his role.

#18- Destiny's children

Not a singular character, but I LOVED Destiny's children. It fit Klaus's character perfectly to have a cult and led to some of the funnies moments in the series.

#17- Dave

From the very limited moments we see with this character, a lot of personality and emotion was communicated, and I feel like we got a big sense of the character. That is down to the brilliant acting from both of Dave's actors and from Robert Sheehan that really sold this character with so little screen time.

Anyway please come back to life Dave! Death doesn't look good on you!

#16- Agnes (Donut woman)

Very sweet and I wish her all the best in life.

#15- Sissy

BRILLIANTLY acted and impactful. Stole every scene between her and Vanya.

Also, she looks EXACTLY like Sheldon's mum in young sheldon...

#14- Herb and Dot

I want to put them both in my pocket and protect them from harm.

#13- Kenny's mum

Again, barely present but I love her. She's a queen. I would go to a rave with Kenny's Mum.

#12- Stan

I love Stan, and he's a big part of Diego and Lila's character development and motivations. I hope they adopt Stan and live happily ever after.

But yeah, great one-liners from Stan.

#11- Grace

Very well acted and haunting.

Top 10 *drumroll please*

#10- Harold Jenkins (Lenoard Peabody)

Again, quite a controversial placement, but I stand by my decision. The acting and delivery of Harold Jenkins as a villain is possibly the best in the whole show. I was totally convinced Lenoard was a nice guy and I was rooting for him and Vanya, until he started dropping hints and slowly revealing his true self and losing the facade and its... it's chefs kiss. So realistic. The actor deserves an award and a standing ovation.

The writers also deserve a pat on the back for this one because he has a convincing motivation and backstory, and the dialogue is DELICIOUS when it comes to Lenoard. He is a truly menacing villain without being overtly scary and powerful and dangerous.

#9- Ray

Charismatic, gentlemanly, empathetic, loving, trusting, supportive... Ray is THE IDEAL MAN. I'm a little bit in love with Ray so I don't blame Allison.

HUGE step up from Luther, for sure.

#8- Umbrella Ben

I would have liked to see more of his character, but I liked what I did see. He loves his siblings and shows it. He is selfless and sacrifices his own existence for Vanya, he is blunt with Klaus because he cares and wants him to improve. Of course, he and Klaus are also a hilarious duo.

#7- Hazel

One of the most touching arcs that offers an insightful message about what life is for, and about Love. Beautifully acted, a very real and lovable character who probably resonates with many in some ways. Hazel is adorable and i miss him in later seasons.

#6- The Handler

I LOVE THE HANDLER MORE THAN WORDS CAN EXPLAIN!!! Funny, playful, entertaining, uexpected and whimsical and yet simultaneously dark and menacing, AMAZING villian that stole EVERY SINGLE SCENE she was in. Kate Walsh was the perfect choice for the role and she played it to perfection.

A bit of trivia about the role, The Handler was originally written for a man, and when Kate Walsh got the role she insisted they didn't change the script (which, let's be honest, they would have.) She put a wonderful spin on it and it's just perfect, I wouldn't change a thing. I would 100% watch a spinoff all about the handler. Season 3 was worse than the previous two thanks to them killing her off (amongst other questionable plot choices)

#5- Allison

Allison was the only character who knew what they were doing, and honestly, if everyone just listened to Allison, there would be no apocalypse. Her storyline losing both Claire and Ray and her powers driving her crazy with power breaks my heart but is well portrayed and impactful.

She's charismatic, clever, strong, and kind. I love Allison and I think most of us do.

#4- Diego

He's stupid but in an endearing way, I find him to be so entertaining and funny, and the actor's face is like an open book. He's not show-stopping but his consistent presence just sets the mood and allows others to act off of him, while he really sells it with his expressions. He's like the rock of the show.

#3- Lila

Lila. Mi amor. Mon amour. Amore mio. Meine Leibe.

#2- Five

For several reasons:

A) He is the daddy here, Luther!!

B) That should be the only reason you need

Seriously, though, I was SUPER impressed with Aidan Gallagher and his incredible screen presence, especially at such a young age. He really embodies the character. Five is the face of the Umbrella Acadamy, and is undoubtedly the most iconic character. 10/10, two thumbs up, absolutely BRILLIANT.

#1- Klaus

No justification necessary.

[flipperdipper10]

I find Shigure Miyabi to be incredibly fascinating

girl made her wish to stop her mother from falling into pyramid schemes, only to go around and immediately join a pyramid scheme herself in the wings of the magius, get repeatedly exploited by the Magius (just like her mom did), possibly even get brainwashed since it's implied that Shigure's main loyalty is with the Magius themselves and feathers whose loyalty was to the magius got hit with the rumor of the receiver pendant, frequently lose to the main cast (even in the anime since we see yachiyo choking her for information on magius's base)

even after founding neo magius she still gets attacked, demolished, used by promised blood, responsible for assisting in the kidnapping of a child, failed in their plan to get the magius back on their side which lead to the group initially falling apart, and even then she still gets used by himena for various plots like getting a witch from alina and trying to convince tokime clan (and also being forced to continuously speak in public about magius until himena got back from hanging out with sasha when they tried to brainwash tokime- there's a lot of brainwashing in this series)

Shigure's main character trait is that she sucks and her only solace in this is that due to magical girl supremacy and her friend who she wallows in misery with. We also know the supremacy is really just a cover to wanting to be accepted by people, so like. girl's probably dealing a lot just from her typical loner nature (she probably has some kind of depression and or anxiety) and that's not even including the fact she has to fight monsters in her spare time

you don't need a cult, you need a coordinator and you need therapy.

[emblazons]

Thinking about that post that said Will had to be 'written out' of some of the S3 narrative because so much of it was about performing heteronormative relationships…& as an emotionally intelligent gay kid he quite literally stands entirely outside of both of those things.

Like. The Duffers said the premise of S3 was puberty, but in truth it's more like kids trying to act more mature than they are, not only by pretending they’re not into “childish” things but also emulating the relationships of the adults around them (for good & bad).

In S3, Lucas is literally just parroting his dad (and whoever else) when it comes to explaining relationships to Mike, and Max is projecting her displeasure/fear of divorce (because of her own parents) by repeatedly breaking up with Lucas and encouraging El to do the same while quoting Cosmo to her. El has her own streak of performative influence from her time watching all those soaps while locked up for a year—and Mike is just doing the best he can to keep up, seeing as (as we see with the Karen considering but then never actually cheating with Billy plot) Wheelers are often motivated by responsibility and duty to their relationships more than actual feelings or depth with their partners.

From the very first episode though…Will literally says “I’m not gonna fall in love," and while I know a lot of people like to talk about how that's kind of a sign he’s already falling in love with Mike, it’s also showing us that he stands apart from all the other people and “couples” we see this season…because he’s not performing social rituals trying to emulate the relationships of the adults around him.

Will is the only character outside of Dustin (who also comments on this tendency to be fake in love to Steve, ironically enough) who is refusing to take part in the ritualistic gambits of "dating" with his friends, on top of embracing his desire to continue doing the things he enjoys even as we are learning he is genuinely in love with Mike.

Will is the only one being genuine about his interests and desires rather than performing normativity (social and heteronormative) like the rest of his friends--the only one who is in love with his chosen interest because he enjoys being around him, and its that dissonance from the "play"/ sandbox narrative of S3 that makes it seem like The Duffers "forgot" about him (which, given the fact that S5 is confirmed as Will's Coming of Age season, obviously isn't true).

...I just think it's interesting that the season where everyone starts being shallow (because...thats the word for it. We should bring that word back lmao) is the season where it feels like Will gets neglected the most—not because he isn't important to the story, but because Season 3 was when The Duffers introduced dishonesty and ongoing romantic relationships as a concept for their "kid" characters, and Will's heartfelt affection for Mike and unwillingness to lie to anyone stands apart from that.

-

Bonus Thought: If you really want to get into it, you can also pull on how watching Will lie to Mike in Season 4 about the painting hurts all that much more because its the first time he's betrayed his character to "match the energy" of his peers—him "ripping off the bandaid" was him not only choosing to save Mike & El's relationship by sacrificing his own feelings, but also him choosing move into the same kind of dishonesty and shallowness he's been watching everyone around him get away with for two seasons now, even though it was going to break his heart to do so.

S4 got Lucas and Max back to the honesty and closeness they hadn't been mature enough to manage in S3...but that's not something Will got to see for himself. Getting us back to honesty for El, Mike and now Will (who have also been lying to themselves and each other in their performances of normalcy) will be a critical part of the "repair" that happens in Season 5.

[shiut]

Both danganronpa and even rain code have this underlying but incredibly persisting theme of the cognitive dissonance between one's personality vs their own nature that I can't help but think about a lot.

In my head I tend to call it the "Leon paradox" because he's the first and most obvious character I think of in regards to this, though he's far from being the only one. Despite being an effortlessly talented baseball prodigy, he dislikes doing it and his actual passion is becoming a musician. However, he's pigeonholed into doing something he doesn't enjoy simply because he's good at it and it's a means to an end since it's his only way of getting anywhere.

This gets expanded in dr2. Imposter's dissatisfaction with having to always be someone else. Akane not caring about being a gymnast much at all aside from the perks it gets her. Nagito's disdain for his luck talent that brings him constant misery while also acknowledging that it's the one thing about himself that he can count on the most.

It even becomes a focal point with Hajime, who did everything to fight his nature of lacking a talent. However, Chiaki points out that it's the fact that he has no specific talent that gives him more freedom than any of the ultimates that he admires. Turned out, gaining every talent put Hajime into his own prison, and it's his loss of personality that made him essentially useless.

Even in V3 you have Kaede who actually loves her talent so much that she feels like it's an obsession that affects her ability to socialize normally. Kokichi also seems to have brief moments where he acknowledges that his talent is a huge barrier to being able to actually connect with people and causes his loneliness, but decides that it's a compulsion that's too troublesome to change so he just accepts it.

Shuichi sticks out to me when it comes to this theme. He's extremely good at detective work and will often do it on impulse regardless of reward. However, even just stumbling on his first murder case and solving it before the police could even touch it, he could not cope with the results of the person he'd affected. His emotional sensitivity traumatized him into being avoidant, even using a hat as a literal blinder. He was prepared to die in the first trial in fear of revealing the truth. His compulsion to do detective work even kind of ruined Kokichi and Kaito's plot in ch5, as he got so ahead of himself with revealing the truth that just kind of blurted everything out before realizing that he shouldn't have. His compulsion with detective work even seems to make him comparatively calmer and more focused during investigations than the other protagonists, despite easily being the emotionally weakest-willed out of all of them. He repeatedly keeps falling back into his talent despite the emotional toll it has on him because he just can't help himself. He kind of acts as an example of one of the reasons why Kyoko was trained to be emotionally detached.

Jin actually is very much like Shuichi. He tries to actively avoid detective work because he despises the emotional detachment required for it. You wouldn't even know that he's actually really good at it, but you see glimpses into his skill in the novels where he'll end up figuring things out before even Kyoko does on more than one occasion. I can talk a lot about Jin, but I do get the feeling that one of the reasons why he works at Hope's Peak is because he knew more about what would end up happening there than he let on. He probably could have gotten quite a few things done if he wasn't so insistent on fighting his own nature as a detective.

Very honorable mention to Yui, who turned down an invitation to Hope's Peak for her high-jumping talent in order to pursue her passion as a very mid detective. She might've even lived if she went to Hope's Peak because I'm pretty sure she would've graduated by the time of the tragedy, but at least she died in the most based way possible by rejecting them.

And of course, Junko is a prime example of the detrimental effect of talent. Because of her analytical abilities, she can practically guess everything that's going to happen. Her obsession with despair is a desperate attempt at being mentally stimulated in a society that has let the status quo stagnate to such a critical degree that it's the reason why the very concept of talent had been rotted to this point. Sorry to Kodaka, who has repeatedly said that Junko is meant to be a truly evil villain with no motivation, but he did kind of accidentally give her a motivation in dr0 where we're shown for a fact that without her memories and ability to analyze, she's relatively normal and tame. That is her nature, just a kind of weird girl who wants to be a tradwife and go grow corn somewhere. However, I think it can be argued that what is meant by "pure evil with no motivation" is that she doesn't have any sort of tangible tragic backstory. You can even say it's not her analyst ability alone that caused her madness, since there's plenty of normal non-world-ending analysts. It may simply be that her personality happened to mix terribly with her talent, and that's the nature of what makes her pure evil, because both of those aspects of her are part of her nature that she can not (nor does she even want to) control despite the misery it causes her. She simply learned to love the misery.

Makoto himself is very clear about being bitter about his luck. For the most part, what's apparent to him is that it causes him constant trouble and the good that it actually does for him is so subtle and disjointed that he doesn't even realize it's his luck. However, I think what makes him different from people like Nagito or Junko is his personality. He doesn't obsess like they do, and his optimism makes him bounce back easily. I think his luck even feeds into his personality and, inverse to Junko, it's the unpredictability of his luck that makes him hopeful and optimistic. Since he never knows what's going to happen to him, he had to develop a way to roll with the punches.

The aspect of personality vs ability also carries over to rain code. The master detectives are people who have innate psychic abilities that are seemingly based on their nature, and then it gets refined and specialized based on their personality. Not only does their personality help to refine these powers, but you see that their personalities and abilities often have detrimental impacts on each other.

Halara can't see living things in their postcognition because they aren't good at looking at people. Pucci's ability makes her hearing so sensitive that it's at least partially caused her emotional detachment. Melami not only likes fashion so much that she must wear the clothes of someone to use her power, but she also has to actually like the clothes too. Vivia is constantly fatigued and has depressive tendencies due his tenuous attachment to his spirit.

Former Number One/Makoto are a great example of this sort of destructive feedback loop of cognitive dissonance. You can infer that their empathy and obsession with helping people is what gives them the ability to use coalescence and share anyone's abilities, yet it's the fact that they can do anything that makes them feel like they must do everything. Ironically, the fact that they've convinced themselves that they must do everything makes their ability essentially useless because they end up only working alone. As a result, Former Number One became detached with every emotion except for his obsession, and it's what caused Makoto to ultimately spiral.

[deripmaver]

What’s The Point Of Elaine?

There are three eras of Casca in Berserk so far: Golden Age, Elaine, and Revived Casca. I find that within the fandom, Elaine is written off as not particularly worth analysis, that she just represents a transition state between the real Cascas, pre-eclipse and now revived. 

I do in some ways understand this feeling - Miura has said that in developing the story of Berserk, he ultimately decided in keeping Casca alive only because he needed a way to keep Guts’ rage intact, and not let the sands of time dull his need for revenge. This comes from an interview with Miura from 2017, that he spared Casca because she makes sure Guts never forgets the Eclipse. If I may editorialize, though, I think there are narrative reasons to keep a character alive, but that doesn’t mean said character isn’t being independently developed and doesn’t have their own inner world, especially when Miura has said repeatedly he’s trying to write real people and not archetypes. If I may also be snarky for a moment, considering one of my first interactions on Berserk tumblr had someone arguing that Casca stans read too much into Miura’s quote on her recovery to the point where you can’t even really assume he intended to have her recover - perhaps it’s reading too much into this quote to extrapolate that “Casca remained alive to fuel Guts’ anger = Casca as a character is only a plot device for Guts and Miura had no intention of developing her outside of that.”

Another reason to overlook her as a character that I do understand: Elaine is completely voiceless. She literally does not speak except for baby-ish noises from the time after eclipse until chapter 355, practically 275 chapters. For all of that time, we are given no indicating of how Casca is processing the eclipse (or not processing) - and so in some ways Elaine is just a narrative place holder as Kentaro Miura found his footing with her recovery. 

My intention with this post is to show that it is possible to gain a bit of insight into Casca’s feelings and emotions as Elaine from some key moments, even though she is never given a voice. Much like (in my opinion lol but also I’m right) Beast of Darkness is just a facet of Guts’ mind and not a separate being, ditto Femto for Griffith, Elaine is Casca, and she’s being written as Casca, just a shallow and surface level version of her. 

Elaine has these few shining moments where Casca comes through, showing that deep inside her mind, Casca is there, a terrified little sprite shielded by this childish outer shell, hiding from the world. First, when she jumps down the cliff during Conviction Arc:

Next, when she kills the men who attempt to rape her during the Winter’s Journey. 

I won’t post any more panels from that chapter lol. It would be better if there was just... A look into her mind during those moments, just for an instant. What made the actual Casca come through in those moments? How did she feel, suddenly being back in her body, in a world infinitely more terrifying than the one before she regressed? What happened to make her go back in, in her safe little cocoon of Elaine? 

Another moment where Casca comes through just for a moment is, in my opinion, one of the most powerful in the series: 

Casca has run to Griffith on the Hill of Swords. It’s not clear why - perhaps she remembers their closeness before the eclipse, or perhaps she’s being drawn to the moonlight boy, her son, in his body. All of a sudden, the unstable rock wall cracks, sending boulders tumbling towards her, and Guts isn’t close enough to get to her in time...

But Griffith is.

He protects her from the falling rocks, and we get the page posted above. This is the first time Casca has seen Griffith since he raped her during the eclipse. She starts to shake and sweat with him holding her still, her noises becoming terrified. She reaches out to him with a trembling hand, her eyes filling with tears. Her brand lets out a burst of blood, and her trauma and terror overwhelms her, while Griffith stares down at her impassively. Casca is still in there, and being confronted by her rapist again, she is absolutely terrified. This, to me, says so much about Casca in this state. Again, if we only could have gotten a glimpse into her mind at the moment, even if it was through the jumbled confusion of Elaine. I think it would have added so much.

I kept waiting for this scene to happen again with Casca revived, but at this point it hasn’t happened. Even with Casca in Falconia it hasn’t happened. MAYBE ONE DAYYYYYY.

There’s a particular look Casca gets when she’s terrified and dissociated, and that remains constant from the Golden Age, to Elaine, to post-revival. 

I also especially like that second panel, when she first wakes up as Elaine because her first instinct when terrified is to attack and bite Guts. It feels like a very Casca thing to do, and in fact that’s more or less what happens on their first meeting in the Golden Age, just a tragic perversion of it. Also, her expression is so similar to the one she made when she was begging Judeau not to die.

I think it’s worth noting that the impacts of Elaine on Casca are ongoing, and unlike some of the discussion I’ve seen, I don’t think anything that’s happened to her as Elaine will be brushed aside. As Elaine, we’re first introduced to her because she is absolutely terrified of all men, even her companions. 

This is reflected in the corridor of dreams, in my view, with the very unsubtle penis monsters (which I won’t post an image of LOL) - the association of men with sexual violence and sexual assault. Her close companions as Elaine were majority women, and this remained true after her revival. By the time Guts and Casca were reunited in Conviction arc, she seemed to have lost some of her mistrust of men, and him in particular - but of course that didn’t last long.

There’s also this imagery of her in a coffin, which is again reflected in the corridor of dreams.

Finally, and most interestingly, in chapter 372 it was pointed out to me that it seems Casca remembers her ordeal at the Tower of Conviction, and being surrounded by Falconia’s soldiers reminds her of the mob trying to burn her at the stake. 

There’s a lot to say also about Casca and Guts’ relationship and how his assault of her as Elaine impacted it, but I think that’s been discussed elsewhere and better than what I could. My point in writing this is to show that Miura was writing Elaine as Casca, and that there are moments where Casca seems to come to the surface and break through the protective façade. I think it could have only helped to give us just a brief glimpse into her mind in those moments, and it’s a detriment that there was nothing. In looking at the panels of Elaine, I think we can get a sense of where Casca’s recovery might go.

Interestingly, most of the moments I’ve shown here happen from before Farnese and co. join the group, and as the later arcs drag on I feel like Elaine gets goofier and less serious of a character, kind of like chestnut puck. Still, I still hold out hope that with Casca revived, even if she is in Falconia, we’ll start to see her process what happened to her as Elaine - especially if she comes across Luca and the girls, as I’m sure she will. 

Must protecc

[ozzgin]

I've been rewatching One Punch Man and the thought about a painfully average looking reader being so strong is stuck in my head

Like maybe the reader works at like a small restaurant that she's been working at for basically all her life and she just get so strong from doing basic chores and having the mental capacity to deal with bad customers

Maybe like one of the baki characters went to try the restaurant out and maybe gotten a big crush on the waiter, whose being harassed by some rando

But before the can tell the guy to scurry on out of here or get a swing at him, she just completely knocks him out with like a punch to the face or something, and maybe the guy was really big like nearly the size of a bear

Or we can take the Garou route and say that Yujiro decided to try the restaurant out just cause' and is like really demanding, enough to get the reader pissed and correct their behavior

And their way of correcting behavior is basically "stop that" and then BAM, they suddenly he's transported in an alleyway somewhere, conveniently forgetting what happened before

Ooo, just imagine the reaction of the baki characters like your crush basically is the strongest person in the world, Yujiro doesn't even compare

Knocked him away with a simple punch even when he's fully prepared for her

This silly idea basically was brewing in my mind, and since this has lots of Yuji bullying, I thought you might like it

Funnily enough I have an older request that was in queue to be answered with basically the same concept! By the way, turns out I've already written a reader knocking out Yuujirou in one blow! I hope I haven’t built myself a reputation as a Yuujirou bully, although this post won’t help my cause.

Also, the whole idea of reader being insanely strong from menial labor reminds me a lot of Hajime no Ippo. Main character turns out to have top tier boxing potential from working at his mom’s fishing business and carrying heavy crates for the clients. Safe to say I like the reasoning a lot!

Baki Headcanons: One Punch! Reader

I’m leaving Yuujirou as a final opponent so to say, because otherwise the whole thing would be finished in 5 minutes. Imagine the anime intro with slideshows of nature scenery, and the narrator dramatically elaborating the plot and explaining why Yuujirou is the strongest creature on Earth. And literally the next panel he’s unconscious and reader awkwardly stares at the camera. Narrator coughs and has to mumble “Well I guess that’s it” and the curtains fall. That was it. That was the whole story.

So I’m going to go for a random buff stranger to showcase Reader’s strength. You have just finished taking Baki’s order. Maybe he took some of the men out to discuss certain matters. Maybe he wants to ask Retsu, Katsumi, Jack and Hanayama about their encounter with Pickle before his fight, to get some insight. He’s heard Katsumi has a big crush on the waitress here, so he picked the spot more as a joke to tease the Karate master. While attending the table there’s giggles, side glances and elbow nudges and you can only wonder why Katsumi refuses to speak (usually he’s very chatty with you) and the others have a grin on their face.

As you walk away, you notice your newer coworker struggling to handle a customer. He’s bowing repeatedly and apologizing for his mistake to a man wearing an indifferent yet sour expression. The large man begins to raise his voice and throws in a few inappropriate insults, so you gently push your coworker away, hinting that he should leave it to you, and you promptly take his place.

The customer seems to think you’re some higher up, next in line to beg for his forgiveness or perhaps suggest a discount as a peace offering. Nonetheless, he wants to make sure you understand your situation, so he stands up. Before he can open his mouth, you loudly and curtly exclaim “We unfortunately do not accept this kind of behavior. Leave, now.”

Several people have now turned their heads as the tension increases. Katsumi is uneasy and the rest of the men are also quiet, observing the unfolding event. Baki discreetly exits his booth, ready to interfere in case the situation escalates.

The man is visibly angered by your lack of fear. Once several of his threats go unanswered, he lifts his hand. By this point Baki is walking towards you. You sigh, not wanting to cause a scene. The whole thing happens rather fast, no one is entirely sure what they just witnessed, but the window is shattered, the stranger is crumpled on the sidewalk and covered in glass shards and you’re standing next to his table, fist clenched and bloodied up.

Calling the men ‘baffled’ would be an understatement. You have to explain several times that no, you’re not a professional fighter and you’ve never trained a day in your life. In fact, you’ve been working at this restaurant from the moment you could walk. It’s your family’s treasured business and you can’t see yourself doing anything else. Retsu is bewildered and demands to have your skills tested, because you could turn out to be a fearful martial arts user. A whole argument ensues and you compromise on joining them to the Underground Arena to demonstrate how far your strength goes. This evening only, and then you’re back serving customers.

Once you defeat Yuujirou, however, you’ve sealed your fate. You can’t just demolish the Ogre with one blow and walk away as if nothing happened…

*Now this is just a random thought that immediately came to mind when reading the request. Since Reader can easily beat Yuujirou, imagine the amount of people feeling like they’ve finally been avenged. It could even be a whole arranged spectacle. You know those fairs from cartoons, where one person sits above a small pool and you pay to throw a ball towards a target in order to drop them into the water? Same concept, really. There’d be a never ending line of people that have been wronged by Yuujirou somehow, so they throw some coins and Reader goes in for another punch. Yuujirou destroyed your gym? Threatened you on the street? Scared you so much you wet yourself? Gather around and enjoy the show for a small price.

[heaven-is-in-your-arms-series]

The Romance of Inao

The story of Inao originally comes from the Javanese and Malay Panji stories, centered around Prince Panji and Princess Kirana.

The stories have spread throughout SouthEast Asia and they have their own versions of the tales with different names for the characters.

I am going to focus on the Thai dance drama version where Prince Panji is called Inao.

Brace yourselves, this one is long and complicated and a lot of information is not easily available in English so it's not as complete as I would like it to be but here goes.

Inao is the son of the king of Kurepan

Bussaba/Kirana is the daughter of the king of Daha

At birth they are betrothed to each other

When Inao is 15, his grandmother passes away in the kingdom of Manya.

The kings of Kurepan and Daha send him to represent them at the funeral.

In Manya, Inao meets and falls in love with princess Jintara.

After the elaborate funeral celebrations are over, he wishes to stay in Manya with Jintara.

But his father orders him home and Inao leaves, after sending a lovelorn letter to Jintara.

At home in Kurepan, his father decides to speed up that marriage! (Clearly sensing trouble.)

But Inao refuses to go along with this plan and goes off hunting.

Having left the palace, he takes on a disguise, along with a few loyal followers and after an encounter with a bandit, he acquires two captured princesses.

They all head to Manya where the king happily welcomes him and Inao makes Jintara his wife.

Jintra, clearly drunk on love, decides to magnanimously invite the two princesses to be Inao’s concubines (polygmy was standard in this time.)

Inao’s father orders him to return home and marry Bussaba but Inao send’s word that he is no longer willing to go along with those plans.

The king of Daha felt slighted and angry and Bussaba too, felt shamed by Inao’s actions, although at this point, they had never actually met each other. (Can you guess what is going to happen?)

Rather recklessly, the king of Daha decides to marry her off to the next person that asks and the king of Joraka, famously ugly, promptly proposes, much to the King of Daha (and Bussaba’s) dismay. Unable to back out of his rash declaration, he reluctantly accepts the proposal.

But, plot twist, the king of Kamang Kuning ALSO wanted to marry Bussaba, because unlike Inao, he knew what she looked like and he was prepared to fight to have her.

Daha Vs Kamang Kuning

Fight!

The King of Daha was obliged to ask Kurepan for help (which must have sucked) and Inao was ordered to go to Daha and help the king sort out this mess since it was all his fault for backing out of the betrothal.

Jintara does not want Inao to go, fearing the worst but Inao decides that this is one summons that he cannot ignore. Perhaps a twinge of guilt at work there too. He promises to return though. (do you think he will?)

(now in SOME versions, an alternative situation occurs where poor Jintara is tricked away and murdered and Inao goes mad with grief for a time before finally regaining his senses when his original intended comes to save him. In this version poor Jintara is usually a commoner and so, sadly, easily got rid of.)

Inao rides in to the rescue and kills the king of Kamang Kuning.

Entering the palace of Daha to celebrate, he finally comes face to face with Bussaba.

(I like to imagine a Bollywood slo-mo moment here, where a mysterious wind blows Bussaba’s hair back from her face, as their eyes meet and a song starts to play.)

He instantly falls in love and realises what a MISTAKE he’s made. (It’s really all your own fault Inao. Minimal sympathy right now.)

I particularly enjoy the accounts where he is standing by Siyatra (Bussaba’s brother) when he spots her and he is so overcome with passion that he repeatedly kisses her brother, mistaking him for her. (Ok, Inao, you tell yourself that.)

The King of Joraka was ALSO on the way to help Daha but he arrived too late to be of any assistance. (Ugly and useless!)

Inao was now desperate to prevent Joraka’s marriage to Bussaba and the king of Daha was sympathetic but he had already given his word. (Unlike some, he doesn’t renege on a promise.)

Beach holiday filler episode time!

Ok, not really but the king of Daha and his wives and followers decide they simply must climb the mountain Wilismara to make offerings and worship to the Buddha image there.

Madewi, the king's second wife, suggests that Bussaba go and ask the image about her fate. Using lighted candles to decipher the Buddha’s message.

She lit three candles, one for Joraka on the left, herself in the middle and Inao on the right.

Bussaba asks the sacred image to extinguish the candle of the person who is not her soulmate.

Inao had secretly followed her and overheard this conversation and he plays a trick, pretending his voice is that of the god’s and persuading Bussaba and Madewi that Inao is her true soulmate.

He sends his follower Prasanta to drive out the bats and extinguish the candles and the darkness he finds and embraces Bussaba.

Madwei is furious about this (Bussaba less so,) and she argues with Inao who has the audacity to claim that he never refused Bussaba. (I think your dad has a letter suggesting otherwise buddy.)

Inao reluctantly hands Bussaba back to Madewi but asks Bussaba for a piece of cloth from her clothes, to hold when he is missing her. (smooth.)

What comes next is a cycle of adventures where the lovers are separated and have to search for each other before they are eventually reunited in a happy ending but they are not all told in the Lakhon Nai dance drama.

In many versions, Bussaba has to temporarily take on the disguise of a man and she has an active role in trying to help rescue Inao.

In a Javanese version, a demon takes her place and pretends to be the princess, called Candra Kirana in this story and the real princess appears at the court, disguised as a man to win back her man.

[sciderman]

i think deadpool 2 is funnier cuz we’ve seen it less repeatedly, yk? like deadpool 1, the best jokes were in the trailer that i saw constantly, then the movie came OUT and i watched it constantly, random repeating the jokes in fanfic, gifs etc or whatever. deadpool 2 is funnier cuz it feels more fresh (as in the i have seen repeats of the jokes less) , but i think deadpool 1 is the better movie tbh. feels less like a cluster fuck , when in deadpool 2 is a cluster fuck in a… bad way. but that’s just my experience. i can literally recite about 70% of the deadpool 1 jokes from memory

deadpool 2 is SUCH a cluster fuck. the editing, the plot - it's all so. so messy. it's a sloppy, messy bitch. it falls apart once you poke it.

literally why does nate only have two charges. one to get him there. one to take him back. they say it in the movie. lazy writing.

they could have literally saved wade's life by just fuckgi. taking the collar off. nate did NOT need to do thE TIME slide and get stuck in the past to save wade. unless.

like everything with nate and wade there is no heterosexual explanation for it. but also it's lazy writing to justify a sequel where nate sticks around which we might not even GET because marvel is going to ruin everything

i think everything is kind of dumb. vanessa's death being wade's motivator is. horrible. i don't think he needs that motivation to save a kid. i really just think they didn't know what to do with her, so they just... turned her into a source of man pain. that's all she ever gets to be. and it sucks.

i feel like all the issues i have with the deadpool movies would be solved with a script doctor of deadpool 1 where vanessa doesn't wind up with wade at the end. it would be a genuine subversion of the genre! "hero" doesn't get the girl. actually, he has some work to do. she walks away. you get to write vanessa out, without killing her. AND she gets agency beyond being a damsel in distress and eventually getting fridged. love that. simple fix. her walking away from wade, she gets to be a character with agency AND a source of man pain. sexy. love it. so! simple! and it already happened in the comics. you have the blueprint right there.

if only the deadpool movies were actually clever and actually wanted to subvert the genre