#sorry 4 being mean its a reflex

[diodellet]

i think i've found a place for us (jamil viper x gn!reader)

lovingly strapping jamil into a rollercoaster ride along the full emotional spectrum😇😇 fic title is from this song content warnings: -reader is yuu/ramshackle prefect -mix of jp and en terms -post-Book 4 OB (references to master-servant relationships, assassinations) -self-deprecating thoughts (references to symptoms of depression) ++this fic is hurt/comfort, whatever issues kalim and jamil have, it's probably mentioned here word count: 3.4k words

This was now Jamil's... fourth day of staying at the Ramshackle dorm. And even though he spent most of the time drifting in and out of sleep, he could make a list of all the inconveniences that came with temporarily living in the once-abandoned dorm. Mold, dust, cobwebs—those were only the first of many entries on his list.

It was far from the quiet, secluded place he initially pegged it as. The building would creak and groan as its living residents moved from room to room. At the peak of midnight, bits and pieces of the ghosts' conversations would travel through the walls, up the floorboards, mix with the sound of the wind outside.

That didn't mean it was completely unbearable.

Whenever you thought that you were alone, you would fill the silence with song. More humming and mumbled syllables than audible lyrics, but still melodious and pleasant to listen to.

"I didn't know you sang." Jamil's voice is rough with sleep.

You spin around to see him, eyes widening in surprise. “You! Should be sleeping!”

"I… think I've had enough." 

If anything, he’s spent too much time asleep for the past few days, dealing with more lingering headaches instead of feeling rested and energized. He sits up, turns his gaze to an interesting patch of clawed up wood on the bedframe left uncovered by your mattress. Grim's doing.

"...did I—do you want anything? I could run over to Sam's or the cafeteria?"

"No, no thank you." It wasn’t that he couldn’t stomach the thought of food, but it was along the lines of not really feeling up to it.

He’s been feeling an awful lot of nothing lately. It was as if everything—all the rage, the resentment, everything that had festered within his being—disappeared with the Blot.

“Do you… want to talk about it?” All that remained now was the shadow of his Overblot. The lingering discomfort, the hushed whispers from the students, the vision of ink coating his fingers.

“Just…” He shakes his head. “...Go back to what you were doing.” The words spill out. Clipped, taut. A demand—no, a plea for you to leave it at that.

He doesn’t miss the way you flinch. “Okay.” You nod, and slowly turn back to your textbook. Slip the other earphone back on and spin your pen in between your fingers.

(The reflexive ‘sorry’ catches in his throat, a few seconds too late for it to be used.)

Jamil lies back down, staring up at the ceiling. The hour ticks by, rays of the afternoon light slowly dimming. He shuts his eyes again, but doesn’t let himself doze off.

The scratch of your pen stops. “...hello?” Jamil turns to rest on his other side so that he’s not looking at you or your work desk. “He’s still here, yes… what about Kalim?”

Even if you lower your voice, it doesn’t stop his ears from picking up on the conversation. The same way that his sleep never tips too far into deep unconsciousness.

“I see… I’ll try asking him about that later.” You fall silent again, listening to the person on the other end. “...Are you guys holding up alright? On top of your…usual stuff?”

He suspects it might be someone from Octavinelle, maybe Jade or Azul. 

The chair legs squeak against the floor. “...If it does get to be too much, please tell me. I’ll figure something out. Maybe I’ll visit Scarabia tomorrow or—” The sentence dies in your throat.

Another pause elapses before you give a resigned sigh. “Alright, sorry, I-I’ll leave it to you…thank you.” Something clatters on your desk, probably your phone.

“...Okay, dinner. What to make…” You mutter to yourself, clicking on the desk lamp. Your footsteps travel to the other side of the room to undo the curtains.

He continues to feign sleep, remaining still as you switch on the lamp at the bedside table. The mattress dips with your weight as you lean over to pull up the blanket so that it covers his shoulder.

The first day that he arrived at Ramshackle was in the middle of a snowy night. An otherwise normal interaction with Kalim escalated into a heated argument. And then the dorm leader insisted on doing something by himself, which steered the conversation into doing away with their opposing statuses and then…like his Overblot, Jamil couldn’t remember the exact specifics of what happened.

Only a persistent gnawing at his temples, red-hot flashes obscuring his vision, his hands haphazardly gathering his things. Not a single one of his dormmates stopped him, quickly moving out of his way or fearfully standing to the side. Kalim's voice calling out for him was the last thing Jamil heard before he stepped through the mirror.

Somehow, his feet brought him to the once-abandoned dormitory. His shoulder was protesting under the weight of his gym bag. The wind bit into the exposed parts of his face, his hoodie did little to protect him from the cold. The gate was locked, of course. But just before he turned on his heel to return to Scarabia, one of the Ramshackle ghosts appeared and unlocked the gate for him.

Everything else was a blur after that. He was just…numb. And tired. Pliant to letting you peel off his snow-covered outerwear and replacing it with a thick blanket. Another ghost pushed a warm mug of tea into his hands. He couldn’t fall asleep though, not with Grim sitting next to him by the fireplace and whining about being woken up. 

“—just let me call back in the morning, he’s…no, he’s not hurt, he’s fine.” You were on the phone, cradling it against your shoulder as you laid his hoodie on the back of a chair. “Okay, bye.”

Jamil didn’t feel alright. If he didn’t upend his family’s carefully-built legacy with his betrayal and Overblot, then he single-handedly sent it to its downfall by running away from Scarabia, away from his charge.

“I…should go back…” he mumbled, moving to stand up. He set the tea aside, the drink was untouched. His fingers had warmed enough at this point. The blanket fell to the floor. “Kalim…”

“Will be fine,” you cut him off, gripping him by his shoulders. “He’s got the rest of Scarabia with him. You’re…not okay.”

Those words stung. He shrugged off your hold. “It doesn’t matter, I have to go.” He needed to stop acting like a child. Go back to what he was meant to do.

“Jamil, I’m not letting you walk in the snow. If you really want to go back, then at least…” Your expression, pained with concern, then softened with your voice. “...at least wait for the weather to calm down by next morning. Please.”

“...Next morning. I’m leaving,” he conceded.

He didn’t leave when morning arrived. When he awoke, it was already afternoon. He was covered in two new blankets and Grim was curled up against his legs.

At the foot of your bed, resting beside his gym bag, were two overstuffed suitcases. Kalim’s handiwork.

Save for the light emanating from the desk lamps, the rest of your room is shrouded in darkness. Shadows stretch across the walls, the floorboards, the edge of your bed, seemingly dripping with ink.

He scrubs a palm over his face. The room returns to normal—no, it's always been normal. He's the one with problems. To solve and to shoulder, those were the only courses of action he could take. And to say that he was merely shouldering all these burdens would discount the resourcefulness he honed from a young age. 

But then to be denied both options with your interference—you, Kalim, and that Octavinelle trio—to have you all meddle a second time, it should have sent him into a rage again. Maybe it would have warranted a second Overblot, but he was. Just. So.

Tired.

He pulls himself out of your bed and goes down to the kitchen.

You were at the stove, finishing up a batch of pasta and serving it on a plate. One of the Ramshackle ghosts was carrying Grim in its arms. Maybe to keep him from jumping onto the countertop and sneaking a few bites. Atop the small dining table, an upbeat tune played from your phone, it sounded like something from a musical. The scene in front of him was nice, but dinner was tuna carbonara. And for the past four days, his meals consisted of fish. Not even shellfish, just some iteration of canned fish. Tuna, sardines, mackerel, salmon, maybe shrimp if Grim was up for the "variety."

Jamil can’t complain, he won’t complain. He’s not a picky eater by any means, but even he had his limits when it came to eating processed food. In his mind, he decided that he would have to take over kitchen duties. Tomorrow. He can only manage helping with cleanup.

(For now, even as an outsider, he can enjoy the shred of normalcy that the shared meal brings.)

You spend one more hour at your desk, going through your winter break homework. Steadily and methodically finishing one subject at a time. Your foot taps against the floor, in time with the music playing through your earphones.

“...Done!” You sigh in relief, stretching your arms above your head. “Will you still need the lights, Jamil?” You turn to look at him.

One of his own textbooks laid open on the bed, little lecture notes and annotations neatly written along the margins. His homework was already completed a day before the holidays started. But, he decided he could redo some of them, make an attempt to earn a higher grade.

“We can stop holding back on account of our social status.”

Jamil feels a twinge at his left temple. He closes the book, leaving a pencil in between the pages as a makeshift bookmark, then sets it at the foot of the bed. “No, I’m good.”

“You sure?”

“Mhm.” There’s an urge to make himself small, invisible to your concern. Which he knows is just basic courtesy as a host—as the head of the Ramshackle Dormitory. 

“Alright. Good night, Jamil.” A click, then darkness. 

That would make this the fourth night spent away from Scarabia. Another night of resting in two hour intervals. Of waiting for sleep to claim him before his racing thoughts consumed him. He calls your name. 

It’s surprisingly easy to, now that the lights are off. “You should be sleeping in your own bed.” 

“...But I can’t just let you sleep on the sofa. It’ll be a killer on your back.” The sound of your footsteps slows to a stop, floorboards creaking with the motion. “The both of us are fine sleeping downstairs.”

“Isn’t he a restless sleeper?” 

“Nope, he sleeps like a baby.”

At that remark, somewhere from the first floor, the sound of rapid footfalls could faintly be heard. Coupled with the fire-monster’s trademark cackle.

“Well, that is, when he gets tired enough.”

The both of you lapse into silence, listening to Grim tear through the first floor hallways. The sound of the ghosts playfully taunting him.

You mutter quietly to yourself, “yeah, he’ll tire himself out in a bit. Hopefully.” The floorboards creak again, you’re probably leaning against the doorframe. “Does the noise bother you?’

“No, not really…” The Scarabia dorm was unnervingly quiet in the days after his Overblot. It was as if there were eyes on him, breaths held in anticipation. Watching and waiting for his next misstep. Nighttime wasn’t any easier. Whenever he'd jolt awake, he would stifle any screams or cries with his pillow, wait for the terror to run its course, count the hours until sunrise. “It’s just—”

There’s a faraway crash and the sound of Grim cursing, a chorus of ghostly laughter in response.

“Never mind, I misspoke. It’s…” Stupid. Jamil quickly dismisses your concern. “You should go check on him.” He turns his back to the doorway.

But you don’t leave. The sound of your footsteps approaches your bed. “Grim’ll be fine. I’m… more worried about you. Could you scoot over?”

“It’s your bed.” He tamps the embarrassment down, forces irritation into his words. Nonetheless letting you climb into the spot next to him. The mattress dips with your weight added to it.

Your own response was bashful. “I know, but…” you pause, thinking of your next words. “Grim and the ghosts… noticed that you were having… nightmares.”

“They’ll pass.” He’s dealt with worse.

“...You’re not wrong for feeling these things,” you say, voice low. As if speaking any louder would disturb the other residents of the dorm.

"How could you still say that…” A lump forms in his throat.  “...after…"

"After everything?” 

It doesn’t feel right to hear you cut to the heart of it. His words spill into the darkness of your bedroom. "After throwing you and Grim into the desert, keeping you against your will—"

"Hey, we were glad to get out of the cold for a little bit."

At his silence, you let out a quiet laugh.

"...I mean it though. It wasn't all bad." Your fingertips press against the side of his arm, apologetic.

He doesn’t… shy away from the contact, but he remains still. Staring up at the ceiling. “You could’ve died.”

Your touch withdraws. “I can say the same to you."

"Wouldn't that have been better? What use is there for an insubordinate servant?” Jamil thinks back to the attempts made on Kalim’s life. Investigations were made into the other staff. Into esteemed guests, renowned politicians, prospective and longtime business partners. Through it all, only the Viper household remained clean.

And it just had to be him, the person closest to Kalim, who tarnished that steadfast loyalty. He’s seen what happened to assassins who were caught. 

(There’s a certain irony in having to spill blood for the protection of another.)

"Don't…don't say that. Kalim doesn’t think of you like that…"

But he still treats Jamil like one. “He thinks the world of everyone he meets. Even those who’ve wronged him.”

“...sure, maybe he’s a bit naive—” That was an understatement, Jamil thinks to himself. Dense, ignorant, stupid were more fitting. “—but he really does see you as one of his closest friends.”

“What do you know?” he counters. What could you say that he hasn't already heard?

“Kalim’s not stupid. He genuinely trusted—he still trusts you in spite of what happened.”

And wasn’t that the most irritating part? That he was still being showered in empty kindness and praise by Kalim? That in the end, he would have to be held accountable for something as careless as losing control of himself?

“It isn’t that simple.” Frustration laces the way he says your name. “Put yourself in my shoes for a second—”

“I am…I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s my duty, to Kalim’s family and my own.” God, he was sick of hearing the dorm leader’s drivel about friendship, but to hear himself repeating his parents’ own words to you was painful.

“That’s true, but you’re not…”

There’s a familiar heat building at the base of Jamil’s throat, an ugly mix of shame, embarrassment. “His title and status as the Asim heir takes priority, and I have to make sure that he doesn’t die before that happens—”

“But you were just a kid!” Your voice rises to a furious whisper before falling, quiet and trembling. “...you were just…a kid… and you shouldn’t have had to bear that on your own for so long…And then to be expected to carry on as if nothing happened…”

Jamil should be angry at hearing another shed tears for him. Expressing the emotions that should’ve been his. Only one other person has done that in front of him, and that misplaced kindness sent him further along the route to his eventual Overblot.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t but—” Despite your apology, the thickness in your voice doesn’t let up. "Still…! Who just tells their own child to ‘lose thrice’?"

The anger that he has carefully nursed doesn’t rear its head. Maybe it really did disappear with the dispelling of his Overblot. Or maybe it’s because you didn’t face him with the fear that his dormmates held.

“How do you know that?” His question is met with your silence. With the curtains drawn closed, only faint slivers of moonlight creep into your bedroom, scarcely enough to reveal the shape of your figure beside him. Jamil’s hand reaches out tentatively—the back of your hand is damp—before withdrawing altogether. 

“...When I fell into the Blot ink, I could hear them…and I saw you. When you were younger.” 

He could remember the ink pouring into every orifice. “Then you…” If it went on for any longer, it would have drowned him, then consumed his magic, then his body and then—

“Yeah, then I managed to pull you out.” 

“But you weren’t in the infirmary.” 

“...Fourth time’s the charm, I guess.”

“Did…that happen with the others?”

“Yeah. With Riddle. And Leona, and Azul. I don’t know why it happens." You shift, the sound of your clothes rustling against the bed covers as you move closer to him. Your shoulder lightly nudges his. “The first time it happened, no one else knew what I was talking about.”

“Tell that to the livestream of my conversation with Azul.”

“But they didn’t broadcast it… it was just a speaker call. For the rest of the dorm to hear.”

Jamil sits up. “What.” He was supposed to know about this? Those Octavinelle fuckers.

“I…I thought—oh, I guess they didn’t tell you, I’m sorry—”

His stunned silence is broken with a laugh, bubbling from his throat and building into sharp, hysterical laughter. He feels warm, burns with embarrassment, because of course it wasn’t a livestream. And why was he feeling a hint of relief at that revelation?

His palms press against his eye sockets. To his ears, the sound is foreign, but he can feel the exertion in his throat. Feel his breathing quicken, the start of a sob which he chokes down.

It takes him a few more moments to register the tears flowing down his cheeks. His outburst dies as quickly as it erupted. His chest hurts at the feeling of stifling his cries, to keep them from escaping.

God, he feels dumb.

You sit up, pull him into your arms. Let him cry against your shoulder, rub a soothing hand against his back. You don’t say anything, but the tender gesture speaks enough.

By the time his emotions have calmed down, his head aches with a dull pain. The all-too familiar sensation of exhaustion seeps into him. 

“Will… you ever talk to Kalim?” you ask. Your own expression was stricken with tear tracks, from sharing in a fraction of his pain.

“Of course I have to eventually.” He sighs, lying back down and you follow. “...I have no choice.”

“You don’t have to…force yourself to though.” You reach forwards, gently wiping away his tears with your thumbs. And he lets you. “If you still need time, you can stay here… To rest and recuperate.”

Paradoxically, it’s in the words of a stranger—(did you count as an acquaintance though? Acquaintances didn’t just spoon each other though, they didn’t just tangle their legs together while sharing the same bed)—that he finds a pinprick of solace.

And sure, you could call it that. ‘Rest.’

But to Jamil, this was stagnation. He couldn’t just keep mooching off your hospitality, blindly trusting in Kalim’s resolve to change. He couldn’t let himself stay indebted for this long. 

“I can’t just stay here for the holidays.  But…thank you.” 

Once winter break ends, what would he do? How should he go about repairing his social standing in the dorm? With the rest of the student body? 

What’s the next move?

He doesn’t even realize that he’s fallen asleep. Rest comes to him, gentle and peaceful.

When early morning arrives, Jamil gives himself five minutes. Five minutes of sitting in the rare calmness of his mind, of listening to your slow even breathing, of being encased in between the warmth of the blankets and your body heat. Comfortable, protected, safe in your arms.

Then he extricates himself from your hold. At the motion, you make a weak sound of protest, blindly reaching after him. Your fingers brush against the hem of Jamil’s shirt. He catches your wrist, gently sets your arm down on the mattress. Then he pulls the edge of the blanket over you to keep you warm and goes to get ready for the day.

Since he was planning on making breakfast, he’d first have to check if the school store had anything available.

(A part of him is grateful that Kalim packed a scarf.)

A/N: originally this started as a scene of jamil being the lazy one for once and trying to keep u in bed with him. i just wanted to write cuddles (read: the intended kissies were somehow lost along the way. i am still sobbing crying weeping and calling for them to come back home) but aaa its finally done, one of my persistent brainworms is freed!! and more have taken its place help id like to credit @jessamine-rose for betaing this fic, thank u ms maam twst veteran💕💕 wcidfy ch3 will take a bit more time to be written. so im gonna chip away at other wips (shorter oneshots) as i try to get the main beats down. it would take a miracle for it to be posted soon, so id probably expect chapter 3 in (late) june. anyway, i hope u enjoyed reading this, don't be afraid to rb and holler in the tags!! i treasure each and every comment!! taglist (ig i have one of these now?): @merotwst

[transmascpetewentz]

i saw whwre you said not to trust ramcoa carrds and i was wondering if the one called "explainingramcoa" and the resources on it look okay? i found it a while ago and havent been able to go tjrough it super well yet cuz im just learning abt it all

(Disclaimer: I am not a professional nor an expert, just some guy on Tumblr frustrated with misinformation trying to be helpful. Please do not take my word as fact and be critical of everything you read, especially about topics such as RAMCOA, where misinformation of the antisemitic variety specifically tends to run rampant.)

Rating: Decently Reliable (6/10)

Further explanation and analysis under the cut. Major trigger warning, this Carrd discusses instances of abuse in great detail that I will reference and pick apart.

I apologize for not getting back to you sooner, I had a very long and exhausting shift today, and I wanted to make sure that I did my due diligence in checking this source out. This Carrd does things a lot better than I've seen other Carrds do. For one, it lists out a sources page. It also provides examples instead of just saying nebulous things such as "governments" and "a secret network of [Jewish] organizations." That said, this is still a Carrd made by someone who is not an expert, which means that it is not fully reliable, and there are some claims that the author makes that make me raise my eyebrow.

Overall, here's how I would rank this Carrd in terms of common issues that I see among RAMCOA resources:

With 0 being "this issue is not present here" and 10 being "holy shit this Carrd's helpfulness is completely overshadowed by this."

Antisemitism And Related Rhetoric:

Satanic Panic Rhetoric: 4/10

Literally uses a source from nineteen fucking ninety-one to prove their point, which includes a lot of satanic panic bullshit. I'm sorry, but this is just not okay in any universe. Also, this gem of a misleading quote, which is either intentionally or unintentionally misrepresenting why the satanic panic was bullshit.

Known for its prevalence in the “Satanic panic” and sometimes even referred to as SRA (Satanic ritual abuse), ritual abuse is often seen as highly controversial. Victims are painted as unreliable or susceptible to their therapists’ suggestions, and their stories go unheard.

Like??? This person probably has no idea what the satanic panic even was. By omitting the crucial detail that it was an antisemitic and homophobic fearmongering tactic by the Christian conservative right, they're making it seem like any person trying to analyze the antisemitism of this crowd's rhetoric is inherently disrespectful to survivors. By trying to spread the narrative that it's disrespectful to survivors to be critical of fearmongering, it's harmful to way more people, including survivors.

"Shadow Government" Shit: 4/10

This Carrd contains a lot of references to the government or governments (though doesn't specify which government or where in the world) doing RAMCOA. While I do not doubt that some governments have indeed perpetrated this form of abuse, omitting the details of where this took place can be very harmful. Below is an example that the author of this Carrd provided of organized abuse.

A government, looking for ruthlessly loyal soldiers and assassins, allows children to be brought up as fighters against humanitarian law. The children are forced to do daily military drills, constantly exposed to violence from both sides, never allowed to show their emotions, etc. Some of these children are even given steroids and other drugs against their will with the hope of increasing their reflexes and strength.

I did a little google search about the use of child soldiers in modern times, and I specifically looked for instances of them being forced to use drugs. While it is true that this does happen, it happens very little, and it is mostly done by non-government military groups. Again, while this scenario does happen, putting it next to more common instances of child rape as if they're remotely the same in scale and frequency can be seen as misleading.

While the author doesn't make any false claims in this area per se, the way that they go about making their claims feels a bit iffy. I give this one a 4/10.

Jewish Stereotypes: 0/10

I didn't see any sort of stereotyping of Jewish people or anything like that, so this Carrd is pretty good on that end. Although, as a disclaimer, I'm not Jewish myself, so I do not have the final authority on this matter.

General Shit:

Medium Unreliability: 8/10

A score of 8/10 comes from the fact that it's a Carrd with no way to contact the author or even know who they are. They claim to be a survivor, but for all anyone knows, they could be lying about that. That does not mean that they are lying, and I understand that revealing that one is a survivor can put them at risk, but nonetheless it is difficult to trust a nameless, faceless person who claims to know about such a serious subject, and who has no professional qualifications or experience.

Bad Sources: 4/10

This Carrd uses a generally acceptable list of sources, but some are unreliable, and one is satanic panic bullshit.

Conclusion

Averaging out all of my ratings on various common problems, this Carrd gets a solid 6/10 (with 1 being the worst and 10 being the best) in terms of misinformation and harmful stereotypes. This makes it decently reliable with a few issues.

[nanjokei]

Thoughts on miku NT update getting delayed? I think she was supposed to get a major update for her anni but she just got a minor update and wat asked to wait 6 months for a ''real'' update

oh man, if i sound combative sometimes here its because this subject triggers my "vocal synth fans are way too angry at nothing" gag reflex, but im not mad at all just frustrated. also sometimes i just accidentally sound aggressive when my tone is actually neutral, so i hope you forgive me if i come off like that.

its difficult to speak about miku NT frankly because if you ever have anything positive to say about her or are patient about her release or even respect the circumstances she exists in... you get called a shill and/or people get mad— and someone on tumblr has picked a fight with me over it and refused to absorb anything i said about the subject, so i have a bit of fear naturally but...

well for one thing i didn't know about the huge update at all so thanks for telling me!

first of all i think the stated mission statement of miku NT aligns with how i see miku— v3 and v4 strayed too much from what miku actually sounds like, and people get really mad if you say this for some reason and accuse you of being picky or a boomer, but if you listen to any iconic song posted before v3, there is a mikuness present in her original version that is lost in the newer engines, is there not? (honestly i think this is true for every v2 vocal. especially luka. literally no one survived the transition to v3/4 but gumi and the VYs, but luka v4 is the worst. luka has lost her popularity and personality bc of how shit v4 is) she sounds more like fujita saki than miku the more she gets rerecorded. that is why NT exists, aside from crypton wanting to be software agnostic. miku NT is basically a V2 emulator, but the current commercial version is rough. it's enough for me to see the vision though. i say commercial because its clear the private version given out to crypton's trusted few (people like mitchie m and nyanyannya) and used in proseka sounds way more progressed... i'm assuming the huge update is either this or something beyond that. and perhaps, this huge update, if it sticks the landing, maybe means NT could be heading to a more presentable state. it could mean the release of kaito next (because it seems like to me that of the unreleased vocals kaito is the one they work on the most)

another thing people get mad at you for pointing out is how wat is the only person developing the engine... like, sorry, that is just how crypton's company culture operates, piapro charas are not their only product and those who handle them in the company are so few precisely because of how tight the vision is. and they barely make money from miku at all considering the licensing fees are practically nonexistent (for the sake of ease on everyone). so no it's not like how people think they can throw money at the project until it's suddenly successful. people think you can just hire someone from the outside to help develop it— arguably, yes— but if you read any interviews wat or other involved peoples give you immediately get the feeling that their vision is something so specific, they'd never involve a third party even if you put a gun to their heads. and i respect that. i can wait 10 years for NT to get good if it means miku will be miku forever and not fujita saki. if it makes people mad, they've literally never taken any version of miku off sale, you can buy miku v2 or 3 or 4 from their website right now if you wanted to. is it kinda bad they decided to put NT up for sale so early? yeah i can't defend that. but i also think that they underestimated the whole "make your own engine" bit. and people are hard on crypton because a lot of dumb missteps on their part like when the append update dropped and they used the incorrect audio for every demo, giving the impression that there was no difference or improvement.

comparisons to other companies don't work either— companies like yamaha and technospeech have entire research teams and periodically publish said research and then eventually implement such things into their softwares. such research is funded heavily by investors. they are company's companies. no comment on dreamtonics idk what is going on there. crypton on the other hand came in with like one guy lol. maybe it is a trap of their own design but lmao no one has to buy NT or pay attention to its existence if they hate it

i sincerely believe that vocal synth fans are raging bulls who root for products to fail just so they can hoot and holler and scream that they were right on the off chance they do fail, with 0 appreciation for the fact that for example every software has a different philosophy in its creation and a different end goal, yes NT is embarrassing at times and yes it could have been better. and? have they abandoned it? have they taken the money and ran? if they did not care they would have released the other cryptonloids and that would have been it. if there's any people whose vision i trust, whose love for their characters and the creators who love their creations that i unwaveringly believe in, it's crypton. (and vocalomakets. but that is not the point)

and i'm not even a crypton girlie!!!

i think literally everyone who buys NT aside from the clique-y cover artist twitter weirdos (who sit in a circle and shit on every new release) buys it with the understanding that at this point, it is a beta product against crypton's will, and you're in for the ride at that point. if people want piapro studio to be synthv, then they missed the point entirely. miku NT will never be realistic, and will probably never implement AI, because miku is not realistic and AI learning dilutes the mikuness. if people want synthv they should just buy synthv lol. if people think v4 miku is better (i'm telling yall she is not) then just buy v4 miku. what's the issue?

basically if wat tells me to jump i jump. i trust him on this even if it gets delayed beyond that. sorry if this strayed from what you asked me nonnie but as you can see I Have Feelings re:this

[dojaeism-archived]

💖🌹✨ the person sending you this wishes for you to have a great week! to spread some positivity, list 5 things that you've done recently that made you happy. spread the love to your favorite mutuals! 💖🌹✨hi 😉ily

shut up tyongf

[kalu-luwa]

ever in your favor pt.1

a.k.a a twisted wonderland hunger games fanfic, featuring mostly everyone from here and especially sasha (@simpingseafood's oc)

based off of @tunabesimpin's​ hunger games event (link here, same as previous link lmao)

THIS IS A PROLOGUE TYPE OF THING I’LL ADD MORE LATER

cw/tw: OOC for many characters (sasha and canon characters included, sorry), violence, gore, swearing, mentions of alcohol, i’ll keep adding as i go along

(under the cut for dash length)

If there was any god out there, Nephtali was sure they hated them. 

Why else would they be sent as tribute to be killed in the name of entertainment?

It was a little too late for the fisher to complain however, as they stood before the Cornucopia. Any second now, and the gun would fire. Any second now, and the madness begins.

Any second now, and their fate would be sealed.

-

What did Neph even do to get here? The career tributes might’ve been a better choice. Hell, as far as they know, they probably weren't even on the census. Life in Panem meant a life of strict social castes and a large wealth gap. District 4 was no exception, with Neph being one of the unfortunate many.

Alas, not even poverty could keep them out of the Games. Nor their lack of sight, for that matter.

Their fellow tribute was, to them, one of the middle-class. A tall man with a lanky figure, who called himself 'Sasha'.

A wonderful name, Nephtali thought as they shook hands, defender of mankind.

But they didn't trust him immediately. Just because he was the District's other tribute didn't mean they were friends. What if he had something else to gain from this? Would he betray them for his own reasons? 

Would they get hurt if they trusted him?

-

The key to winning this, Neph concluded, was to keep the both of them alive for as long as possible. They were still on uncharted territory when it came to Sasha, but that was a can of worms they would open another time.

Right now, it was time for the sponsors to pick their favored tribute.

All these tributes had their own unique ability. Some of them could even control magic. One of them could turn anything into sand, so they heard. Another could shapeshift into a catfish. Everything was teeming with magic in one way or another. 

Everything, everyone, but them. 

Magic was valuable, highly sought after, a luxury only few could afford and a power less could reliably wield. Of course they wouldn't have any of those, what would they even do with it? 

Sasha was missing. Or, at least, Neph couldn't hear him nearby. Maybe he was finished for the day? But Neph wanted to maximize their chances of winning. If they could get even one sponsor, their chances of winning would increase… not like they were particularly lucky in the first place. But what could they do?

Their greatest asset was probably their hearing. Echolocation works wonders when your eyes are decommissioned. Maybe even their spatial awareness. Quick thinking? Rapid reflexes?

"Oi, herbivore, are you just gonna sit there?" A gruff voice called out to them, stalking its way towards them. "'Cause if you are, then move over."

The voice… it sounded like one of the District 2 tributes. Maybe the lion man, the one who could disintegrate whatever he touched. That made sense; the wealthy District 2 was known for its strength and masonry. 

"Are you even listening, or are you just deaf?" They snapped out of their stupor, lifting their head to where they thought the voice came from.

"Apologies, I was… just thinking about things,” they hastily stood up, dusting off their shirt. “I’m not- I can’t see very well. I didn’t notice you.”

“A blind tribute…?” The lion man chuckled, flopping down where Neph used to be. “Heh, how pitiful.”

“... excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He yawned, rolling over to stare at the fisher, “This is a game to the death. Herbivores like you… well, they don’t last very long.”

There was truth to his words. Truly, he was right… but goddamn, did Neph want to wipe the floor with his ass. “We’ll see about that.”

There was no point in garnering enemies this early on.

-

The rest of it went by in a blur. The sponsorships, the training sessions, the tribute interviews… All that really mattered to them was getting out of this shithole alive. See their family again. Run away from Panem… if that was even achievable. Sasha had come up with a plan, apparently, during his small disappearance earlier on.

Keep each other alive for as long as possible. Avoid the others as much as you can. Take only the bare essentials. Don’t ever get separated.

Today was their last training session before the games. Everyone was on high alert, suspicious of anything that even looked their way. The District 4 tributes were in their own corner, building strength and shaking their nerves off as best as they could. Sasha was still discussing their plan, his hushed voice keeping Nephtali tethered to reality.

“-and if we do this right, then we’ll be able to make it to the final day,” he finished, grunting as he completed a pull-up, “So, whaddya say, Neph?”

…

“Neph?”

“How do I know I can trust you?” The fisher blurted out, cross-legged on the floor.

“Huh?”

“How do I know you won’t betray me? String me along for the ride then kill me at the last minute?” They turned to face him, brows furrowed and eyes sharpened. “How do I know I’m not just a pawn in your game of 4D chess?”

The other tribute sighed. “You’re asking a very difficult question, Neph.”

“I’m still waiting on my answer.”

“Okay, okay, fine. How about this,” Sasha leapt down from the bars, hands on his hips, "When it's just the two of us left, we can force the Capitol to elect both of us as winners."

"What? That's impossible, no one's ever heard of two victors."

“We'll be the first,” there's an odd lilt to his tone, like he was planning something. “This is just a gameshow to the Capitol, we’re just here for entertainment. We’re only kept alive if we’re pleasing them, so if we play into their favor and keep away from the others, we’ll be fine.”

“What if they make us fight each other? What then?”

“Ever heard of Katniss and Peeta?”

[cruelfeline]

Is it just me, or does Hordak seem surprised during the season 4 finale when Horde Prime reads his mind against his will, yells at him, resets him, etc.? We often draw parallels between Hordak and Catra, but when Shadow Weaver abuses Catra, Catra is scared and violated, but not surprised. Getting repeatedly tortured by the Torture Entity™ sucks, but it isn't a complete surprise, esp. if you know you've done one of the things that it thinks you deserve to be tortured for. Why is Hordak surprised?

Ah, this is such an interesting ask, but the scenes it requires me to assess... well, let's get through it!

I don't know that I'd call Hordak "surprised." There are many emotions he goes through during the season four finale, but actual surprise - the sense of encountering something unexpected - isn't one I'd count among them.

Let's go through the scene expression by expression, shall we?

So, the opening interaction between Prime and Hordak - when Prime holds his face in his hands and reads his mind - is what I expect you mean when you say "surprised."

And I can see why. Hordak's eyes go very wide, and out-of-context, he certainly appears to exhibit the stereotypical "eyes wide, mouth slightly open" surprised face. But watching the scene in its entirety, he doesn't really seem like he's facing anything unexpected, per say.

Rather, his expression immediately prior the wide-eyed one is one of apparent pain. Recall, anon, that at this moment, Prime is commenting about how he cannot see Hordak's thoughts while we hear the sort of whispers associated with Prime's hivemind. This suggests that the reason for Hordak's discomfort is that Prime is trying to forcibly reconnect him to the hivemind he's been disconnected from for so long. Forcing his way into Hordak's mind and thoughts, if you will.

It is at this moment that Hordak's eyes go wide, and his ears sort of... fall and straighten outward, a bit. His expression going slack, compared to the gritted teeth and squinting eyes we've just seen.

Essentially: as Prime successfully enters Hordak's mind, Hordak just sort of. Goes limp. Not on purpose, I don't think. On reflex.

It's not an expression of surprise. It's a muscle slackening associated with Prime breaking through and reconnecting Hordak to the system.

Then, as Prime rummages and paws his way through Hordak's thoughts and emotions, we get more dramatic gritting of teeth and tensing of features: evidence of increasing discomfort. Perhaps even of fighting back, trying to keep Prime from seeing his most private, precious thoughts.

As the scene progresses, we move on to the next set of expressions.

None of this is "surprise." Hordak isn't shocked by what's happening. Rather, he knows exactly what's happening. He may have tried to reassure himself, during all those years on Etheria, that if he just did well enough, Prime would welcome him back, but now? Faced with Prime? Realizing that all of those reassurances were just that, and promptly remembering what Prime is actually like?

Hordak isn't surprised. He's desperate. He's like... hm... how to say...

As a child, did you ever do something wrong, know that your parent was going to punish you terribly, and try to reason or bargain with them to avoid that punishment? Like, knowing that you were going to get screamed at, or hit, so you started begging them not to. Telling them that you were sorry, that you wouldn't doing it again, that you'd do this chore or that, just to avoid the punishment you were so afraid of?

That's what Hordak is doing here. All of his desperate coping fantasies have fallen away in the face of reality, and he is absolutely terrified of what is coming. So he's trying to placate Prime to avoid being hurt.

Finally, as Prime pulls back, we see... gosh, I can't even say. Hope and fear and longing and just... Hordak wanting so badly for all of the hardship and despair and pain of the last thirty years to mean to Prime what they mean to him.

But we all know how that turns out.

So. I wouldn't say "surprised," anon. I'd say that Hordak goes through an awful mess of emotions comprised primarily of fear, pain, desperation, and lost hope. I'd say he goes through these emotions because, rather than finding Prime's actions unexpected, he knows exactly what his god is going to do to him. And the understanding both terrifies and breaks him.

[libraryofloveletters]

prompts 8 + 9 for Buck omgggg 🥲🥲🥲

Can’t Lose Him

Evan Buckley x Reader 

Warnings: fem!reader, mentions of hospitals and injuries, minimal swearing, mentions of pregnancy and Chim’s accident, big brother!Chim

Prompts: #8: “you promised me you wouldn't be reckless! You promised me!” #9: “Does he know about the baby?” 

Category: mix of angst and fluff

Word Count: 2.4k

Author’s Note: I loved writing this so thank you for requesting! :) 

---

Pacing the room, Hen reached out for your hand. “C’mon, your feet must hurt. Sit down” you sighed, once again you were in a hospital waiting room in the middle of the night with the team and Maddie because Buck’s idiotic self got himself hurt again. 

“I’m okay Hen, thank you” you gave her a slight smile. Bobby was talking to the doctors because you couldn't bring yourself to hear what he’s done this time. Bobby returned, Athena by his side now. “Oh honey,” she pulled you into a hug, you could feel yourself melting into her arms, she sat with you and her arm wrapped around your shoulder. Bobby sat to the other side of you. 

“The doctor said that the pressure of the block cracked a rib, which then punctured a lung. He also has a mild concussion but they say it shouldn't be too bad” 

“Is he out of surgery ?” 

“He is, but he’s in recovery now. It might be a little bit before we get to see him” Bobby gives your shoulder a squeeze, you nodded.

Taking a look around the waiting room, Chim held Maddie as she slept with her head on his shoulder. Eddie sat to the other side of them, on the phone with Carla and Christopher. Hen was now talking to Bobby about something. 

This wasn't an unusual scene but a familiar one. Regardless of what was going on or who it was, the 118 always shows for their own. 

A rather tall man came into the waiting room. “Buckley ?” he called out, everyone stood, the doctor seemed surprised to see so many people at 4 in the morning. Your hand was resting on your stomach, you could feel eyes burning into your side. Looking to the left, Chim’s eyes were fixed on your hand, you nodded in his direction with your brows furrowed. He shook his head, you didn’t think much of it. 

“We can take one person in if someone would like to go in now? He’s still asleep but he’s stable as of now” your heart sunk at the term “as of now”, shaking the feeling, you look over at Maddie. 

“Do you want to go in first ?” 

“You go ahead, I'll walk with you and then I'll see him after. I might take a lap, my back is killing me” she gave your hand a squeeze, the two of you followed the doctor to a room down the hall. 

She came in for a moment to kiss her brother’s head and then left you alone in the room with him. You sat at his bedside, your hand held onto his. His hand was cold, the monitor was still going and you could hear his heart beating through the deafening silence but it felt strange. 

Every time you found yourself back here, it felt odd. 

Buck was a warrior in every sense of the word, he pulled through, always. 

“Oh baby, what did you get yourself into” sighing and leaning back into the chair. Once again, your hand comes down to rest on your stomach, the other hand still holding Buck’s. His hand twitched slightly, he was starting to wake up. “Don’t move hun,” your hand rested on his chest softly, Buck’s brows furrowed. 

“Wh-who are you?” his head tilted slightly, your heart dropped. The panic started to set in but you knew better than to let him see it. 

He’ll come around, he’s just woozy from surgery. 

“Why are you here?” he asked once again, “I'm-” you started but was cut off by a little chuckle from Buck. “You ass!” you let out a breath, “god, you scared me”

“Sorry baby, I didn't mean to scare you” 

“Yeah? So why am I sitting in a hospital room while you’re all banged up” 

“We could bang if you wanted” he gave you one of his stupid wicked smiles

“Evan Buckley!” you scolded him, “now is not the time” your hand held onto his arm, your finger tracing over the tattoo on his bicep. “You really scared me, the whole punctured lung this isn't a cute look Buck” 

“Really ? And here I was thinking that I was pulling it off” 

Something flipped in you, you went from relief to anger in .2 of a second. “How could you?” hitting his shoulder, you stood up. “Ow! What did I do ? I'm just laying here” Buck whined, you know you didn't actually hurt him, he's just being dramatic. 

“I know it’s your job to run into burning buildings but would it kill you to be safe? You can't fucking save anyone if you’re dead Evan!” 

“Woah, calm down first of all, and why are you calling me Evan ?” 

“Is that not your frigging name ?!” 

You were starting to lose your patience. You loved Buck, any and everyone knew that but you couldn't deal with how stupid he could be sometimes. He’d run straight into danger to help others but not once would he stop to think of what could possibly happen to him. 

“Where is this coming from ?” he asked you, looking at you. He reached for your hand but you pulled away. You find yourself pacing again, trying to calm yourself before you strangle him with his IV line. “What do you mean ‘where is this coming from?’ you had a giant block of concrete on your chest Buck! If Eddie didn't find you, you'd be dead, you were on the verge of death as it is.” 

“You don-” 

“I don't know that ? I know you’re dumb enough to run into a collapsing building, especially after Bobby told you not to go back inside” you gave him a look, your back up against the wall. Buck’s face went pale, he looked as if he saw a ghost. 

“What? You thought Eddie wouldn't tell me about your little stunt ? You should know better than that.”

“Y/n, baby, I didn’t think anything would happen to me” 

“You never think Buck, that's the problem! You promised me you wouldn't be reckless! You promised me! but you never listen, you never do. One of these days, you're going to walk in and not walk back out.” storming out of the room, Buck sat on the bed, his mouth hung open and confused as to what brought on the fit of rage you just had. 

Maddie walks into the room, “where’s y/n?” she sits beside him. Buck rubs his forehead, “um- she just went for some air” 

--

It was around 5:30 in the morning, you sat outside on the hood of Buck’s jeep. You had dropped him off at work and taken the jeep for the day, hence why you had it right now. 

Peaceful.

That’s how you’d describe your surroundings. There was no one in the parking lot, you laid back on the hood as your hand came down to your stomach once again, staring aimlessly up into the sky. It wasn't dark but the sun hadn't fully come up yet. It was right before dawn, the world felt like it paused, not completely, but just enough for you to take in these few moments of peace. 

The weight shifted on the jeep, you opened your eyes to see Chim climbing up to sit beside you. “Hey, everyone’s looking for you” he says, laying back onto the hood beside you. “Yeah, I just needed some air” lying through your teeth, you give him as best of a smile that you could muster up. Chim’s eyes fixated on your hand once again, you watched him, practically hearing the turning in his head. 

“What's going on in there? The rebar taking its effect now?” you joke, he rolls his eyes. 

“Does he know about the baby?” he asks, you sit up and turn towards him. You hadn't told a soul. 

“How did-” 

“Maddie does it to- the hand on the belly thing. She's been doing it since before there was a bump. Just a motherly reflex I suppose” 

You stared off into space, Chim sat beside you quietly. “Does he know?” he asks once again, you shake your head. “I know it’s not my place,” he rests his hand on your shoulder, “but I think you should tell him. It might keep him from running into buildings without thinking.” 

“Did that work for you ?” 

“What do you mean ?” 

“When Maddie told you that she was pregnant, did you think twice before running into a burning building ?” 

“Honestly, at first it didn't. It didn't seem real until I saw the bump and heard the heartbeat. Then it all made sense ya know ? I couldn't risk getting hurt because I had something to live for, they were waiting for me to come home” 

“That's the thing, I don't want to lose him, Chim. I can’t lose him. I love him and I need him here, the baby needs him. There’s no way I can do this by myself” 

“You can, I know you would be able to do it by yourself but you shouldn’t have too. Buck’s an idiot but he loves you.”

Chim sat with you for a few more minutes, you considered everything he told you. How Buck might not change right away nor did you expect him too but if there was even a chance of him changing, you’d want him too. “Ready to go back in?” Chim slides off the hood, holding his hand out to you. You hold his hand and he helps you off the hood.

“We have a stop to make first” you walk in the opposite direction of Buck’s room. Chim follows you down to the gift shop, which was closed as it doesn’t open until 7.“Are you kidding me?” you groan, leaning back against the door. “We’ll figure something out,” Chim looks around. Eddie comes around the corner, “what are you guys doing here?” he walks over. 

“I needed something for Buck” 

“What did you need? Can’t it wait until they open?” 

“Eddie, I'm pregnant” you just blurt out, Eddie’s jaw drops, literally. 

“Congratulations!” he pulls you into a hug, “wait, you’re happy about it right?” he checks, you nod. 

“I need one of those stupid “world’s best dad” shirts for Buck but it's closed” 

Eddie looks at Chim and then looks around. “Are we gonna?” Chim points towards the door, looking at Eddie. “Yup” Eddie looks around once more, “lean your head towards me y/n” your face screws into a weird expression but abides anyways. Eddie pulls a bobby pin out of your hair, turning to the door and jams into the lock. He wiggles the pin around until the lock clicks open. 

“Voila” he smiles as pushes the door open. The 3 of you walk in, Eddie stays by the door to make sure no one was coming. “Chim, find a pen and paper for me please ?” you walk away to find the shirt you were looking for. Picking up 4, you shove them into a bag form behind the counter. You toss $30 onto the counter and scribble a little note for the person that opens that read: 

Had an emergency, needed a few shirts. Hope this cash covers it. Thanks! :) 

Eddie relocked the door before heading to Buck’s room. Everyone was now in the room, scattered in different places. Bobby was leaned up against a wall, Athena stood beside him, leaning into his side. Hen sat on the little counter by the window and Maddie was still in the chair beside his bed. Eddie went over and joined Hen by the window, Chim stood behind Maddie, his hand coming up to her shoulder. 

“Y/n..” Buck whispers as you walk in, you take a seat on the end of the bed by his hips. “I’m sorry” he says, his hand reaching out for yours. 

“You’re an idiot but, I guess, I forgive you” you say and Buck smiles at you. “What’s in the bag ?” he asks, you rest the bag on your lap. “Something for you boys” The guys exchange looks, Eddie and Chim knew you needed something for Buck but what did you get for them? 

Pulling out the shirts, you handed one to Buck first. It was a plain blue t-shirt with big white bold letters that read “world’s best dad”. Buck looked down at the shirt and then back at you, he repeated that process a few times and after a couple minutes he finally asked you. 

“Are you ?” he whispers, the room is silent. 

“Am I?” you ask.

“Pregnant ?” he finishes the question and you smile. 

“Yeah, I am” your hand rests on his, he pulls you into his side for a hug. You hug him, trying not to squish him and hurt him even more. 

“Okay,” you sit up and toss another shirt that said the same thing to Eddie. He caught it and smiled, “because Christopher couldn't have a better dad than you” Eddie gives you a smile and whispers a thank you. 

The next shirt gets tossed to Chim, he laughs. “You got one for me too?” he asks, pulling the shirt on over his sweater. “Yeah because baby girl Buckley is gonna be one lucky baby, despite your not-so-funny dad jokes” Maddie laughs at the comment, Chim does too. 

The last shirt goes over to Bobby. He gives you a look, “what’s this for ?” he asks, “Because not only have you been amazing with May and Harry but you’ve got a fire station full of ‘children’ that rely on you. Just a thanks for bringing them home in one piece, well for the most part” you pat Buck’s side.

The room is filled with happiness and love, the 118 was together once again, not just as firefighters but as a family. 

-- 

taglist: @ssa-volturi @advicefromnixxxx @dralexreid @keenmarvellover

[persimmonteas]

take a good look

4 times you gaze at him + 1 time he gazes at you

fic cowritten with @shinaus​, art by @annypuff​ <3. you can buy mel a coffee and anny a coffee. please support them! their work is banging and i love them 🥺 

pairing: vampire!shinso x f!reader

word count: ~4.5k

genre: slice of life fantasy (a tinge of coffee shop!AU), fluff, mutual pining, smut

cw: dom!shinso, size kink, daddy kink (inspired by toshi anon), praise kink, some degradation (he says slut 3x), fingerfucking, nipple play, choking, hair pulling, mirror sex, mating press, hickies everywhere, a cunt slap, overstimulation

first time: the coffee shop incident 

Of course your favorite coffee shop is swamped. This place is the only good thing about waking up close to dawn, with drinks always better than what your office has to offer and not to mention the pastries they make fresh.

Letting out a small groan, you decide to wait it out in the line and do your best to hurry with your breakfast before heading into work. Thankfully, you always leave yourself with enough time to actually sit and enjoy whatever you decide to buy that day, opting for it over greasy break rooms or stuffy smoking areas. 

Once the warm mug is in hand, you make quick work to try and find your usual spot only to find it occupied. While you won’t act possessive over a public seat of all things, losing the chance to enjoy glancing out the window and munching down your croissant seems to screw with your brain. 

You act without thinking, making a sharp turn to go sit somewhere else only for your knee to make contact with the underside of another table. Shit, you think to yourself, hearing the clatter of their cup. You helplessly watch liquid run down the table and into the person’s lap. 

You expect them to flinch, dart up from the table or, hell, even yell at you for your carelessness. He doesn’t yell at you and you don’t expect to see the colour of the liquid running down the table onto the floor to be red. Blood red. Fuck. A vampire. Hopefully, one who doesn’t eat you for your stupidity.

Just as you feel your heart sinking down to your stomach, your eyes flick up to meet the man whose day you likely ruined. You don’t see a hint of anger on his attractive features. In his defence, it’s probably because he’s busy looking at the way you’re gawking at him.

His unkempt hair and the deep eye bags adorning his sculpted face somehow make him look all the more endearing. It even looks like he’s wearing the smallest hint of eyeliner. Or are his eyes just naturally like that? Hard to tell. 

You’re pulled out of your thoughts (and staring session) by him breaking eye contact with you to clean himself up, before rising to his feet and doing the same to the table. It makes you come back down to Earth, and thereby remembering your clownery

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—” you start, but are met with a hand held up in front of your face. You furrow your brows in confusion, having assumed his lack of aggression would mean he’d be more understanding but nope.

“No issue,” he grumbles in response, giving his trousers one last wipe down before swiftly weaving through the others in the coffee shop, flipping his hoodie up and taking his leave. Now, you’re even more confused. 

Sure, you spilled something over him and the table, but you would have bought him another one? Paid for his dry cleaning or something maybe? Yet, off he went, moving so quickly you couldn’t ever hope to catch up to him. Fucking vampires, man, you shake your head.

The confusion eventually fades but not completely. You help one of the baristas doing the last of the clean up before settling into the strange vampire’s seat and letting your mind wander as you eat your breakfast. 

second time: gawking at the gym

It’s a common occurrence for you to make it to the gym right as the rush of 9-5s ends, the perfect time in your opinion. Nobody hogging any of the ellipticals, the water cooler always left unoccupied and nothing but time for you to get through your usual routine.

With this in mind, you can confidently say that nothing out of the ordinary ever happens at the gym. Well, could say. 

Carefully bringing your leg around to meet the other on your way off of the exercise bike, you're momentarily distracted by the sound of a nearby treadmill whirring so much hard that it sounds as though it may break. 

Lifting your towel and water bottle, you make your way over in curiosity. It almost seems as if whoever is on the treadmill moves even faster as you approach. Once you make it there, you’re met with the man who seems to be continuously haunting your surroundings. 

Despite his unruly purple hair in a band and all-black gym attire, vamp man still seems out of place. The athletic wear is a complete change of pace, considering the hoodie and leather jacket he was wearing during your first encounter. 

You rid yourself of any wandering thoughts about the man and focus on him being the reason that the treadmill is about to be on its last legs. You can’t bring yourself to look away from him; the sheer speed of his legs is mindblowing.  And a little ridiculous looking if you’re honest with yourself.

The moment is short lived when he slows to a stop, probably thinking the same thing that you are about the poor machine not being able to last another mile. He looks like he’s barely broken a sweat. Fucking vampires, you repeat to yourself.  

Just your luck, he notices your presence as he dabs the side of his not-even-sweating face with his towel. He begins to smirk at your eyes on him. 

“Little rude to stare, isn’t it?” he wonders aloud, voice much deeper and more luxurious than what you remember. Getting caught fills you with deep embarrassment. You stutter out a quick apology before making your way over to another machine. 

Even with your back facing away from any passing people as you continue your routine, you can practically feel his eyes boring into you.

A few minutes is all it takes for you to turn to check if your suspicions are correct. You’re met with his shameless stare. He’s not even making an attempt to hide his gaze either, leaning on one of the back walls as he watches you, large arms crossed over his broad chest somehow making the skin-tight shirt he’s wearing even tighter. 

This is torture, you think to yourself as you give him a polite smile, only to hear him chuckling at your strained smile.

“What? So you can stare but I can’t?” he tries, fully getting your attention once more as you stop what you’re doing. Sighing and smacking your machine, you come off of your machine and make your way back over to him.

Your confidence about approaching decreases as you see the full height difference between you two. You’re a fair bit smaller than he is. He looms over you even with his back still leaning against the wall.

“If you’re trying to stalk me, you’re doing a bad job. It should be me, after all. I’m the predator,” he lightly mocks you. 

You almost stomp your foot. “I am not stalking you!” you protest. “It isn’t my fault that you apparently go to the same coffee shop and gym as me.” 

He levels you with a delighted look. Humans usually don’t take his teasing well but you seem so much fun.

Throwing an annoyed peace sign at him, you make your way out of the gym.

third time: literally just that scene in the first twilight movie without edward doing donuts in his car into the lot

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing out at this time?” The low voice comes from your side, making every muscle in your body suddenly jolt. You just left your friends. Why do creeps seem to have a radar?

Even as you pick up your pace and ignore the question, it only seems to egg him on more. Right as he starts talking to you again, he’s swiftly cut off.

Feeling a small gust of wind at your back despite the calm night, you turn in confusion. Where did the creep go? Your question is answered when you watch him get slammed against the nearest storefront’s shutters. A much taller figure overshadows over him, hand around the creep’s throat. 

Even in the darkness, you can see the purple hair, unruly as ever starting from the collar of his coat. You stride over and pull on Shinso’s coat sleeve in hopes of ceasing his threatening actions—no matter how much the creep deserves the vampire’s ire. After all, you don’t want Shinso to end up with a track record after, like, a century (you’re guessing) without one.

“Shinso,” you say, eyes pleading as you look up at him—unaware of how much he enjoys hearing you so naturally say his name. He meets your stare briefly then rolls his eyes and releases his hold, watching the man scramble away. The chuckle that leaves him at the scene makes you wonder if he’s a sadist. 

Before you can wonder much more, he grips your hand tightly in his own as he leads you farther down the street. The clasp strangely comforting to you despite his freezing skin.

“You really need to stop being so irresponsible,” he tells you, tone almost mocking as he (somehow) takes every right path to your apartment building. There’s no point in questioning how he knows this. After all, for some reason, the world keeps leading you to him in an array of coincidences that are starting to feel less and less coincidental. 

When you let out a scoff, his hand seems to tighten further and you reflexively try to yank your hand away. He just stops in his tracks and turns to face you. There’s a look in his eyes you don’t question, especially since he speaks up before you do. 

“Don’t make me have to watch your every move to keep you out of trouble, I’d like to have a social life too, you know,” he grumbles, before turning to walk away. It leaves you a little dumbfounded to say the least, since you’re not exactly stopping him from having a life. Y’know, with, how totally unplanned these encounters are and all.

fourth time: the confrontation

Apparently, not one thing can be your own anymore. Not that you’re complaining, of course, but the sheer number of coincidences between you and Shinso is extraordinary and only seems to escalate. You keep running into him even in places so busy that you think there’s no chance of running into anybody you know. 

Now that Autumn is in full swing, the nights are colder and the leaves are dappled in brown and red shades. The perfect time to start going on walks through some of the bustling parks you live near. 

You love the scenery, especially the large lake that lies in the middle of your favorite park. As dusk rolls around, you take the chance to get a walk in to enjoy the now barely visible sunlight and to ponder a certain vampire. 

Not even one lap into walking around the lake, you catch sight of the colour that’s been plaguing your thoughts in your peripheral. 

The deep indigo colour is hard to miss, especially when it’s on the head of the vampire you keep running into. Though this time feels a little different since you finally catch him when he’s unaware of you.

Sitting on one of the benches facing the water, he’s wearing his typical hoodie and leather jacket and is holding what looks to be a book. What kind of book a vampire reads is beyond your imagination. 

All you know is that you finally have the opportunity to take the upper hand. Every time you see Shinso, he worms his way out of your questions. Or he leaves in an ominous distinctly vampire fashion.

There’s no reason for him to be everywhere you go, unless ... You want to confirm your hypothesis. 

The plan is simple. You’ll act like you're still out on your casual walk and you’ll walk up to the bench and sit down in a non-suspicious way. You nod to yourself. Perfect, flawless plan. 

It shockingly works … his book must be really good. You get all the way up to the bench without him acknowledging you. Since he’s only taking up one side, you don’t wait for verbal permission to sit down alongside him.

He still makes no indication that he notices you. His eyes never leave the book he has in his hands. You fixate your eyes on the silver ring on his index finger as he flicks through the pages. 

You lean in close and try to keep your smugness about finally startling him from bleeding into your voice when you speak. 

“You know, I’m starting to think you’re conveniently everywhere I go on purpose.”

For the first time ever, he’s the one caught off guard. Shinso flinches away from you and brings his eyes to meet yours. Without his signature smirk or witty comments, he simply gets up to take his leave. 

Well. This certainly isn’t going the way you want.

After your many encounters, you can pick up on his overall mood through his reactions to you. Though, he’s never reacted like this. At least not since the incident at the coffee shop.

The dismissal ignites irritation in you. Why is up to him whether or not you interacted? Taking the opportunity while you still have it, you follow him. 

It isn’t until he passes a large tree just off of the main path that you completely catch up to him. You realize he’ll easily slip away if you don’t move quickly. So you do, hand coming up to hit the tree trunk and essentially blocking his way. 

His eyes widen at you. However, he makes no attempt at escaping. 

“Why do we keep running into each other?” you ask with exasperation, eyes still on him as he moves to lean against the tree. You don’t move your hand, using it to grasp some control of the situation.

“You’re everywhere I go, it doesn’t matter where or when. You’re always there.” The rant is far from needed for him, he knows this already. But, you keep going. 

“What is this? Were we lovers in a past life or something? Do you have some unresolved feelings?” The way you’re rambling makes you impossibly endearing to him. His classic chuckle slipping out stops you in your tracks.

“Nothing of the sort,” he curtly replies. You cross your arms over your chest at his usual demeanor returning. “No such thing as reincarnated soulmates, at least with what I’ve experienced in my lifetime. Though, the feelings department…” As he continues, he leans closer to you. So much so you can almost feel his breath on your face and smell his warm, spicy cologne. 

“Is there a problem if I do have feelings for you?”

You blink at him. What? You don’t think you’ve ever been so caught off guard.. Feelings? Is that what this has all been about? 

Every previous encounter begins to run through your head and you start picking out small things that back up his statement. The lingering stares, teasing words, protective nature. You groan and drag your hands down your face. Man, you didn’t pick up on any of his hints. He must think you’re an idiot. 

Before you can give him an answer, he pushes off the tree, standing over you at full height. Assuming he’s about to attempt to leave once more, you’re surprised to see him turning back in the direction of the bench. When you make no effort to move, he reaches out and pulls you by your coat until his hand is in yours. 

“I’ll take that as not a problem.” A smirk still on his face due to you indirectly feeding his ego. 

Although, now walking beside him, you don’t miss the way his free hand reaches up to rub at the back of his neck. A gesture you recognise as one of his nervous tics. Did you do that to him? You grin at the idea that you make the great vampire feel that way.

“There’s a scooter rental place down by this side of the lake.” His voice brings you out of your thoughts, realising he’s been trying to hold eye contact with you. “I’ll make a deal with you, if you let me take you out on a ride around the lake, I’ll answer any questions you have, deal?”

The way he’s practically bargaining with you makes you want to laugh, but you keep your face neutral as you agree to his offer. Who turns down taking a romantic scooter ride with a hot vampire? Nobody. 

Of course, he takes any opportunity to tease you, so he rents a smaller scooter so you have to cling onto him.

You don’t complain though. How can you as you enjoy feeling his back muscles flex? Not to mention, he keeps his promise and answers any and every question you have about himself or his past. And, wow, he has an interesting and long past. 

As the sky turns dark and drips stars, you’re left with a feeling rising in your chest that you certainly don’t reject and with the hope of meeting him again—on purpose, this time. A planned event seems likely as you clutch the torn-out blank page of his book with his phone number scribbled across it in your fist.

one time: he gazes at you

“Hitoshi. You already have better night vision than me. This is so extra!” you protest, stumbling through the dark apartment as your vampiric boyfriend maneuvers you to ... his room, you think. 

Hitoshi just rubs soothing circles on your back and you just know the fucker is smirking. You hear the light click on. 

“You can take the blindfold off.” 

Tugging the blindfold off, you stare at the new object Hitoshi bought for his room. 

“Baby, this is a mirror.” 

He nods while leaning against his bed, looking infuriatingly pretty per usual. 

“You can’t even see yourself in a mirror. Why?” You arch an eyebrow in Hitoshi’s direction, trying to explain your absolute bafflement at his purchase. 

“In case you’re here and want to check yourself out.”  

You see nothing but innocence plastered on his facial expression but did you trust it? No. 

A mindblowing second later, he stands in front of you, caressing your face with calloused, cold hands. A nice contrast to the sweltering temperature in his room he set for you. Hitoshi leans in to kiss you, gentle but firm. Your hands go up to fist his shirt as he intensifies the kiss. 

He slides his hands down your cheek to stroke your lip and then slowly skims down your body.  

“It would be a great idea to take this off,” he whispers, playing with the hem of your shirt. 

You eagerly nod as he strips you out of your shirt and pants. Awareness of his plans finally clicks when he turns you to face the mirror. 

The remark on the tip of your tongue dies when Hitoshi rolls your nipples through the thin lace of your bra. You arch into his touch as he gently pinches and pulls them. God, your panties are already drenched and nipples hard. 

“Fuck,” you moan as Hitoshi slides your panties to the side. Letting you lean against his corded chest, he hitches one of your legs off the floor. 

“Go on, spread yourself open. Let me see how wet your slutty cunt is,” he murmurs into your ear. 

You hard swallow as you spread your glistening lips open for him, strands of your arousal clinging to your fingers when you pull them away. Hitoshi digs his hand into your thigh.

“Did I tell you to stop?” He sounds amused as he uses his other hand to pull your hair by the roots.

“No, no, daddy, I’m sorry,” you apologize and move your hand back to where it belongs. 

“Good girl, look at yourself. Wrecked without even being fucked.” You stare at yourself in the mirror with a half-lidded gaze. He’s right. With your heaving chest and puffy, soaked pussy, you look like you’ve been railed. But instead, you continue to spread open your aching pussy for your fully clothed boyfriend.

“Daddy, daddy, please touch me,” you plead as you grind against his hard bulge, desperate for any kind of friction. 

“Are you going to be a good girl for me?” If you were any more lucid, you’d have smacked Hitoshi for his lilting tease. 

“Aren’t I always a good girl,” you whine, hands clambering at his thighs. 

He chuckles at that, kissing your head before somehow gracefully crumpling to the ground with you in his lap. In a blink, he has you spread out in his lap as he plays with your clit. He slides a thick finger inside your tiny cunny as he grazes your shoulder with his canines.

“Look at you,” he coos. “You look so good like this, my darling little slut.” 

You don’t even have a retort, too enraptured by the sight of Hitoshi fingerfucking your sopping cunt with his invisible hand. The way your cunt opens for him and gapes in the mirror spellbinding for both of you.

You moan as your hips jerk up. There’s not much more he loves than how your lips part and your legs shake at how he strokes his finger inside of you. 

“More,” you beg. How can he resist your dazed expression? 

“Such a needy baby,” he tsks as he scissors you open with another finger. 

Another strum of your clit and pinch of your nipple and you’re gone, eyes squeezing shut. Your juices surely ruining his pants as you writhe in his lap. 

He cradles your cheek and then grips your chin to turn you back to the mirror. 

“Look at yourself, pretty girl. Such a fucked out mess.” 

You gaze at the bruises blooming over your shoulders and down your neck and shudder, pleased. The aftershocks of your orgasm leave you warm as you languidly suck your juices off Hitoshi’s fingers.  

“Toshi!” you squeal as he gently deposits you on his bed and pulls his clothes off. The bed is purely decorative and for you considering he doesn’t sleep. Although, even with a bed, you guys still fuck over every surface in his apartment. 

Your sensitivity protests fall to deaf ears as he bends your knees to your chest. This time, Hitoshi is the one to spread you open. He slaps your cunt and you claw at the sheets. Pumping two fingers slowly in and out of you, he uses his other hand to roughly pull down your bra.

His chapped lips wrapping around your nipple and cold fingers groping your other breast feel overwhelming. Hitoshi cages you in, sucking wet kisses over your tits, leaving you no room to evade his overstimulation as you squirm to get away from his fingers fucking up into you. 

Your sore nipples and cunt get a moment of reprieve as he moves down to concentrate on marking bites all over your plush thighs. Instantly, you miss being full. 

When he passes your empty, clenching cunt for the third time to suck bruises on your inner thighs, you burst. 

“Daddy, please, please, fuck me!” 

Hitoshi trails kisses up your heated skin to your throat, laving over the hickies he left.

“Beautiful,” he croons as he finally positions his tip against your hole and pushes in. The praise and stretch make you whine. He stills as your tiny cunt clenches around him. Your warm, drenched walls wrapping around his cock makes him toss his head back in pleasure. 

“My patient good girl,” he groans, pulling at your nipples. 

“Fuck—more, daddy, more,” you curse as you squirm, your hips rocking up to meet his shallow thrusts. He doesn’t reply and grazes his fangs over your pulse point as he holds your hips down. 

Your breath hitches—and he abruptly pulls back.

“Did my baby think I was going to bite her?” Hitoshi gives you a lazy smirk as he keeps his vexingly slow pace, watching his cock drag in and out of your creaming cunt. 

His large hand wrapping around your neck makes you squeak and suddenly tighten around him. Your favorite necklace. Knowing he’s using an insignificant fraction of his strength to please you makes your eyes roll back as your breath stutters.

“That’s it, cum for me, pretty girl.” Hitoshi starts a punishing pace as he strokes your clit with his free hand. His dark eyes never leave his hand wrapped around your throat, your ravishing lightheaded face and your bouncing tits. Hitoshi’s furrowed expression as he drags his tongue over his canines in concentration makes you whimper. 

You buck against him, gushing around him and crying out his name.

The way you cum so prettily for him has Hitoshi hissing your name in your ear as he thrusts deep into your spasming cunt, chasing his own release. Intertwining his hands with yours, he presses you into the mattress to pin you down. Before long, his orgasm washes over him. 

You gaze contentedly at Hitoshi as he pulls out, feeling empty already—and then you realize. 

“Hitoshi! I swear to god if I look like a grape again,” you threaten as you try to stand up to head to the bathroom. 

You don’t even take a step before he whisks you into his bathroom, laughing at you and kissing your forehead. 

Well. You suppose looking like a grape isn’t that bad.

[frenchly-anxious]

Here’s why you (and I) have been studying the wrong way all this time - part 1

Have you ever studied hard for a test, spending all your evenings on it, feeling prepared, just to fail it spectacularly?

Have you ever been told to re-read your lessons to learn it better?

Have you ever been told after a failed test that you obviously didn’t learn despite you knowing you definitely did?

If so, I’m very sorry, it means school has failed you on something it was supposed to teach you: how to learn. And really, the fault isn’t yours.

Fasten your seatbelts my friends, we’re going on an adventure to explain why school sucks at its own fucking job!

First of all, a little experiment by Tulving. We have 2 groups and we ask them to simply read 6 times a list of 22 words. Then, we give Group 1 the same list and ask them this time to remember as many words as possible. With Group 2, same task but it’s not the same list as before.

Question time: which group will do better? Group 1 with the list they have already read 6 times, or Group 2 with a totally new list?

I can guess you’re probably telling me Group 1, right?

Well. Actually, there is no difference at all between the groups. Nothing, nada. Reading the words 6 times before didn’t give any advantage to Group 1.

What is this witchcraft, I hear you say?

Let me introduce you to the biggest misconception of our school life: reading your lesson over and over won’t help you at all.

How is that possible? Well, there’s a concept we all heard countless time, but that was never explained correctly: effort. To learn something, you need to make efforts. I’m not saying you’re not being serious when reading your lesson, not at all.

The thing is, reading is by now is a reflex for you, it doesn’t require a lot of efforts. Do you remember how hard it was to read when you were a child, or have you seen a young child trying to read? Every word is a battle, to the point that sometimes, they have finished reading but can’t remember what they read: all of their attention was on how to pronounce this group of letters, not on what they were saying.

For us, adults, reading is not something very complicated. It became a reflex, so now our attention isn’t on how to read, but on what we read. It sounds like a good thing, right? It is, but not when it comes to learning.

The action of reading isn’t complicated, and so you don’t have to be involved that much. You’re reading it, you’re understanding it; but when are you making the effort to memorize it? That’s where the problem is: reading is mostly passive, whereas learning is active.

You probably already encountered this paradox, though: the more you read your lesson, the more familiar it feels. You’re reading it and you’re like “Yeah, I remember that, and that too, and this after too”. But once in front of your exam: nothing. Or at least, not enough. This familiar feeling is just that: a feeling. Your brain is only telling you “Yeah, I already read that”, but we mistake it for “I already learned that”.

The difference is quite important, but we aren’t necessarily aware of it. So when teachers are telling us “You didn’t study”, we’re offended because we’re certain we did. Yes, we did work; but we didn’t in the right way.

Another study to prove my point (Roedinger & Karpicke, 2006):

Once again, 2 groups. My question would be: when asked to remember as much info as possible in a text, who would win?

Group 1, with 4 sessions of 5 minutes to read the text?

Or Group 2, with 5 minutes to read it and then without the text, 3 separate sessions of 5 minutes to write down as many things they can remember (without any correction from the examiners of course)?

This time, you already know where I’m going. But our instinct tells us “Obviously Group 1, they had more time!”. Which is technically true. 5 minutes after the end of that experiment, when we ask each group what they remember, Group 1 takes the lead. They get around 85% of the notions from the text, while Group 2 gets 70%. It isn’t much but it’s indeed better.

Which is great. But that’s 5 minutes after learning.

If we meet with them again 1 week later, and ask again what they do remember, Group 1 falls at barely 40% of the notions, not even half of what they learned. What about Group 2, you ask? They’re at 60%, which is very good!

The funny thing is, if asked, Group 1 will tell you how confident they feel about what they remember and that they will nail the test, while Group 2 will be saying they don’t remember a lot. Because once again, Group 1 has this feeling of familiarity about the text.

But then why is Group 2 so much better after a week?

It’s about effort.

The 5 minutes they spent reading didn’t require a lot of efforts. They understood what was written, maybe had enough time to read it a few times. Then they didn’t have the text anymore, but we asked them to write down what they remember. Once. Twice. Thrice.

During those 3 sessions, they had to make efforts. Efforts to search in their memory for what they had read. And this, contrary to reading, isn’t really easy and definitely isn’t passive.

“What did I read?” they asked themselves in front of this blank page, the text long gone. “Wait, I almost forgot this! And didn’t they talk about something else? Wait, what was it?... Oh!”

By doing so, they re-activated neurons, creating paths, reinforcing them. They did that 3 times. So their brain was like “Wait, we searched for that info multiple times, it must be important!”

Then what about Group 1, you wonder? They had 4 sessions to read it! Didn’t their brain also realize it was important?

Your brain’s goal is to automate things you need. Because if those things are automated, you don’t have to focus on them anymore, you don’t have to spend all your energy on it.

Do you remember when you learned how to ride a bike? It was hard, you fell often, but now you don’t have to think about; that’s because your brain was like “Shit, this is giving us a hard time. This is a problem, because if it takes all of our attention to just stay on the bike, we won’t be able to avoid obstacle or anything.” The solution to that is making ‘staying on the bike’ a reflex, something you know so much you don’t have to reinforce it anymore.

With Group 1, reading that text wasn’t hard. Their brain was like “meh, no problem, it doesn’t require more of my help”. If it isn’t problematic, no need for trying to automate it or make it easier.

But for Group 2, it was harder. Making the effort to try to remember what they read was very consuming in time, attention and energy. Their brain HAD to do something so it would become easier: it learned, and it learned for a longer time. Because of the repetition of that effort, because this difficulty kept appearing and being annoying in a way, their brain realized they needed to know that. Just like how you learned your phone number, your address,... You searched for it multiple times, you used it multiple times; now you don’t need to re-learn it, it’s there to stay.

So Group 1 spent 20 minutes reading a text, just to remember it for a day or two.

Group 2 also spent 20 minutes, but 5 for reading, and 15 to test themselves, and it lasted way more than a week.

Both groups did work. But one of them is obviously more efficient.

You want to learn efficiently? Leave your notes aside, and make the effort to try to remember it, even if it’s imperfect. No: especially if it’s imperfect.

Yes, I know, it seems counterintuitive. However it works incredibly well!

But that will be for a part 2...

[whump-a-la-mode]

Can you do a part 4 of The Trophy Room? 🤩🥺

I am so, so sorry that this has taken... Months. Maybe longer. I’ve been super super busy. But, at long last, here you go! I’ve been having a lot of fun with this story, even if I am just kind of making it up as I go. I hope you enjoy, and that it was worth the wait!

Continued from here.

CW//Sickness, talk of death, mentions of torture

Every strike of the ram against the steel door may as well have been a railroad spike, driven into Hero’s eardrums. Covering their ears with their hands was as automatic of a reflex as withdrawing their hand from a hot stove would be.

Villain had saved their life. Or, perhaps that wasn’t the right tense to use. No, Villain was currently, actively saving their life. The villain’s former friend had poisoned them-- no, infected them-- as revenge. Revenge for taking her child. Sure, Hibou could have simply killed them on the spot, but that wasn’t the point. She had had to watch her friend slowly die, and thus, the heroes would have to do the very same.

There was no reason under the sun for Villain to be doing this. No reason for them to have locked themself in a room, sealed themself in stalemate. All for the life of a hero who had watched their withering every day, and done not a thing to stop it.

So, who was the real hero?

They had no time to think on that particular notion, especially given the sheer number of circular dents that were being rapidly punched into the steel door.

All the while, Villain paced.

There was a facade they were trying to put on, that much was clear. A facade of confidence, struggling to look as though they were utterly unbothered by the team of heroes mere moments from breaking right through the door. But, if Hero could do anything, it was see past a mask. With every new crash came a new tension of the villain’s muscles, an unmistakable increase in their heart rate.

The two of them were opposites in every sense. Hero, the light, the shimmering dove, a healer by nature. And Villain, the crow who could kill with a touch. Yet, here they were. Stuck in the ocean in the same damn boat.

Except, Hero would be fine. At the very most, they would be given a mere slap on the wrist for complying with Villain. Even then, given just how sick they were already beginning to feel again, they could pass it off as helplessness. Villain had simply dragged them around, given them no choice.

This whole situation was, for Hero, without consequences.

Villain, on the other hand? Hell, they already spent their life shown off as a trophy, chained in a cage like some abused 1800s circus tiger! What could be worse than that? Whatever it was, the other heroes would find it, and subject the villain to it. Perhaps simply being displayed, trussed up like a turkey wouldn’t be enough.

The heroes would never kill them. No, they would subject them to tortures unimaginable, and ensure that every hero and villain sat in the audience. Their life would go from humiliating boredom to utter agony.

That was the consequence Villain would likely be facing, from this whole debacle. And what were they getting out of it? Nothing at all. Saving Hero’s life most certainly didn’t mean much of anything to them. They hardly even knew each other!

“They’re going to be in in just a minute.” Villain spoke through gritted teeth, voice only just managing to rise above the explosion of sound as the battering ram once more struck the door.

“What are you going to do?” Hero couldn’t stop themself from asking. It was likely the very last time that they would ever have a chance to speak to the poor prisoner. They didn’t want anything but an explanation. “Why are you doing this?”

“I’m saving your life.” Again, with a sigh, the villain strolled to their side, placing a pair of fingers upon their neck, as though checking their pulse. And, then, little by little, Hero’s pain was once again vanished.

“But why?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do.”

“You’re a villain!”

“I know.”

It was then that the steel plate at long last gave into the battering ram, and its repeated collisions. Hero, laying upon the hospital bed as they were, could do nothing but watch.

Counting the number of bodies that swarmed through the door in that moment would have been a fruitless effort. Rather than individual units, they flowed like water-- each and every one of them outfitted in an identical, organization-issue hazmat suit.

None would dare touch Villain upon their bare skin.

But, with the protection of their suits, they had no qualm at all about toppling the poor villain. In a flash, they were wrestled to the floor, arms shackled behind their back and ankles securely fastened together. Trussed up like a turkey, they were grappled by three separate people, who shared the burden of rushing them from the room.

And then Hero was alone. Alone with the doctors, the very people who had caused this mess in the first place. Who had called them over when Villain had gone unresponsive. When the year of trauma placed upon them had at last added its final straw.

For a moment, the hero couldn’t help but feel as though they had just been brought into an alien spaceship, and were being examined by a roomful of extraterrestrials. The hazmat-suited doctors examined them blankly like a piece of meat, before, at long last, one of them spoke, unidentifiable as they were:

“You’re alive.”

Without Villain, they wouldn’t be. It was Villain, and Villain alone, who had used their powers of targeted necrosis to fight back against the disease that crept through Hero’s veins.

The disease that now spread without restraint. They felt as though their tongue had swelled up, blocking their airway. How fast did this stupid thing grow? How fast would it take them?

Without Villain...

They had to explain. Explain that the villain needed to come back, that they needed to be freed, to be allowed to use their powers. But, even as Hero’s first sputtering syllables lurched from their lips, they were silenced.

The doctors were released all at once from their seeming stupor, stumbling over to their patient and beginning to shed bulky gloves in favor of bare hands. Before the knew it, every last piece of their body was being examined, from their eyes to their toes.

“How do you feel?” They felt as though the question was asked to them in choir, given just how many medics were rushing around them like fluttering locusts.

“Are you okay?”

“What did they do to you?”

“How are you feeling?”

“Did they hurt you?”

The questions all had very simple answers. Yet, instead of answering a single one of them, Hero felt their head flop back down on the hospital bed’s paper-covered pillow, eyes focusing upon the tiles above.

The sickness, it was progressing past their tongue, now. Crawling up their sinuses, through the back of their throat. It flooded outwards, so it seemed, from the wound that Hibou had gashed into their side. And it was flowing faster than it ever had before.

“Hero?”

“Hero, what’s wrong?”

“Hero, talk to us!”

“Say something!”

“Talk to us!”

But they could say nothing, not with just how quickly their lips were going numb. Before the disease reached their mind, before they once more lost consciousness, Hero heard only three words:

“Villain’s killed them.”

[onesillybeach]

New Beginnings Ch. 17

F!reader x Liu Kang/Kung Lao

First chapter posted to my main. Hope everyone finds it.

slight NSFW

@ancientowlgirl @poor-unfortunate-soul-85 @shang-hung

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 *15 16

You weren’t sure if it was because Liu felt like he needed to ‘catch up’ to Lao, but that very night Liu could simply not keep his hands off you. You didn’t mind; You couldn’t keep yours off of him either. You were moaning softly as his hands roamed all over your body. He was being so assertive. What he’d said earlier to you was echoing in your head. He wanted you.

Liu’s room was closer to the dining room, so that’s where he’d led you. Breathing heavily as adrenaline pumped through your veins, you practically slammed his door shut behind him and locked his door. He backed you up as a hand moved under your gi. Feeling bare skin contact was still so alien to you. Goosebumps again plagued you. His hands were rough with calluses, different from Lao’s. But they still lit a fire within you. Another small moan escaped you as he pressed you back against the wall.

Oh, but this was all moving too fast. What were you doing? Liu’s lips moved down to your neck. Mmm. You knew what you were doing. But, why were you doing it? You gasped as pressed himself against you, feeling his excitement. Shit. You knew why you were doing it. Dammit…

Against every biological instinct to keep going, you moved your hands to Liu’s chest and gently pushed. Liu’s lips reluctantly left your collar as he pulled his head back to look at you. His brows knotted when he saw the frown on your face. “What?” He asked carefully. He then straightened and stepped back as flash of panic washed over him. “Am I hurting you?”

“No,” you answered and shook your head. Your hands hadn’t left his chest. You had gripped the lapels of his gi to keep him from moving away any further. You watched as your fingers played with the fabric idly, trying to sort yourself. “You’re not—… You’re not just doing this because you feel like you have to catch up to Lao, right?”

You glanced back up to his face to see his jaw flex. That alone answered it for you. Your frown deepened and you tugged at his gi, coaxing him closer. “I don’t like the idea of sharing you,” Liu admitted as he settled against you again.

“I know,” you said softly. You couldn’t help but feel guilty. “I’m sorry.”

Liu’s forehead gently rested against yours. Your eyes shifted up to his. He was doing that thing again: staring into your eyes like he was staring right into your soul. You could melt right into him. You sighed.

“What is it?” He asked, voice low and just for you.

You wanted to tell him to relax. But you were sure it wasn’t so much him who needed to relax, but you. You wanted to tell him that this wasn’t a competition, but you realised it was. Your silence only made Liu’s concern grow. His hands gently slid down your sides and rested on your hips. “Tell me,” he whispered.

You closed your eyes for a moment. You forced a small grin that left your face just as quick as it had appeared. “Don’t feel like you have to compete with him,” you told him, sighing again.You knew it was contradictory.

And he did too. Liu’s eyes looked over your face, watching the subtle changes in your features as you fought with yourself. “Look at me,” he said. You opened your eyes and looked back to his. “I love you,” he said.

Your features contorted slightly. You weren’t ready to hear that. “You barely know me,” you tried to reason.

“I know enough,” he reassured, his eyes never leaving yours. Dammit, Liu. Why did you have to make this so difficult?

You sucked in a sharp breath and looked away. Was he trying to guilt trip you? Was he so desperate for you that he’d manipulate you like that? No, you didn’t want to believe that. Liu had been so honest and understanding since you’d met him. You couldn’t believe he’d have a selfish bone in his body. “Liu…”

His lips graced your cheek gently. It brought another small smile to your face. Seeing it, he continued to trail light kisses down your neck. Anything to make your frown go away. And instinctively, you let your head tilt to the side, giving him more of your soft skin to enjoy.

Mmm… No. You groaned and weaseled out from between him and the wall. You raked a hand through your hair as you took a deep breath. Liu sighed as he turned and leaned back against the stone wall. You could tell this was irritating him-you were irritating him. But he was doing his best to hide it. “Y/N…”

“I’m sorry,” it came out like a reflex and you found yourself pacing around his room as your mind tripped over itself with rushing thoughts. His room was so neat--so organized. There were so many books. That tightness in your chest was growing. You knew what it was. You recognized it. You took a deep breath and held it as you tried to focus everything you had on not panicking.

But it was no use. It was coming like a big rig and you were a deer caught in its headlights. You’d done it again. You’d worked yourself up. You’d thought about it too much. You put a hand on Liu’s table to steady yourself as your head began to spin. You covered your face with your free hand. Dammit. Not now. Not like this.

A strong hand had gently grasped your arm. Liu pulled you right into his chest and wrapped his strong arms around you, holding you safe and secure. You let yourself lean into him as you wrapped your arms around his neck. The tears came soon after and you hid your face in his shoulder. God, this was so pathetic. You were so pathetic.

“Come here,” Liu whispered next to your ear and moved his hands down your back. He shifted and lifted you. He carried you for a moment before setting you down on the edge of his bed. He then knelt down in front of you, putting himself lower than you. Those deep eyes of his traced over you, so full of concern.

You were shaking. You were softly cussing yourself out for being such a mess. You were futilely wiping the tears from your eyes. You must have looked so pathetic—

“Stop,” Liu told you gently. Your brows knotted to him. Stop? Stop what? Stop panicking? Stop being pathetic? Stop crying? Shaking? He knew you couldn’t! You were about to tell him off. “Stop,” Liu repeated, tone still gentle as his hands took yours, then slowly slid up your arms. He kept running his hands up and down your arms so carefully as he looked into your eyes. “Breathe. Focus.”

You forced in a deep breath despite your chest refusing to expand with your lungs. You kept your eyes on his. You were glad you’d bit your tongue just a moment ago. Liu wasn’t trying to scold you. He was trying to help you. You sucked in another deep breath.

Liu’s lips pulled into a small smile as you began focusing on your breathing. He let his eyes drift down to your hands. You followed his gaze and took hold of his hands as they moved back to yours. “What are you thinking about?” Liu asked.

“That I’m pathetic.”

Liu frowned, but tightened his grip on your hands. “You are not pathetic.”

“I am.”

“You are not pathetic. You’re frustrated.”

You looked back up to him. He didn’t meet your eyes. He seemed more preoccupied with your hands as his thumbs rubbed over the backs of them… Liu was right. You were frustrated. There was so much you were dealing with, and your feelings for Liu and Lao did not make any of this easier… And you didn’t know how to stop it. Could you? Should you? Raiden said this was supposed to happen. Shit, here came the tears again.

You pulled your hands from Liu gently and wiped at the tears. He watched you before settling there on the floor in front of you. He folded his arms on your lap and rested his chin on his arms as he looked up at you. He was so patient with you. You were sure he’d sit there as long as he had to: As long as it took for you to get past this panic attack. And he wouldn’t complain one little bit.

You took in a deep breath. You’d stopped shaking. Your heart wasn’t racing so hard. “Thank you,” you choked out through tears.

“Always,” Liu simply answered, as if this wasn’t such a huge burden.

“No one else has ever been so patient with me.”

“I’m a patient man.”

“Just not when it comes to me choosing between you and Lao,” you said, immediately regretting it. Liu sighed heavily on your lap, but didn’t move away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s alright. You’re right.” You were frowning at him. “I admit that I would like you to make a choice sooner rather than later. But, I know it’s hard for you. I don’t like it, but I’ll wait.”

“Liu…”

“I’m not usually selfish. This is new for me as well. I feel like sabotaging Lao’s chances,” he admitted.

Your brows knotted. “I told you two, no fighting.”

“I know. And I promised I wouldn’t.”

You lifted a hand. You were so compelled in that moment to run your hand through his hair… So you did. Liu seemed content with your fingers combing over his scalp and closed his eyes as he simply rested there. “What is it about me that makes you feel selfish?” you asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Is it because if I do choose Lao, you’d feel like you'll never find someone else?” You could relate to that feeling. You’d felt that yourself. Before you met Liu and Lao, you’d figured you would take the first guy who showed any interest in you because… well… what if he was the only one? You never would have thought you’d meet two amazing guys who both had such strong interest in you.

Liu sighed again. “I don’t get to meet many women here,” Liu answered. His eyes opened as he looked back up to you. “Probably never like you.”

Your face grew hot as you looked back into his eyes. What were you doing? How could you possibly tell Liu no?

How could you tell Lao no?

You groaned. “Why couldn’t you two be the same person?” That would have made this so much easier.

Liu’s brows rose. He lifted his head. And that question he’d asked you earlier came back: “Do you want me to be more like him?”

“No. Liu…” You took hold of his face as you frowned to him. “I was just talking nonsense… Sure, it would make this all easier if you two were just one person, but I don’t really want that.” You could see Liu was getting more confused. You couldn’t blame him. You were confusing yourself. “I meant what I said earlier, Liu. I like you for you. I like Lao for Lao. I’m here with you. If I wanted Lao right now, I would be with him right now. But, I’m here with you.”

Liu used your lap to help push himself up. He then moved to sit next to you, turned to face you. You caught him glancing to your lips before he looked back up to your eyes. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

You froze for a second, then cracked a smile. A small laugh escaped you. “Me neither,” you admitted as he joined you in laughing. And you really didn’t know what you were doing. You never had a boyfriend before. You’d never been on a date before. Your experience was limited to what you had experienced between Liu and Lao. And it wasn’t much. “What do you normally do after dinner?” You asked.

He shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. “Meditate? Read?” He nodded to the various books around his room. You turned your attention back to his room. There were a couple books on his bedside table and you reached for them. Unsurprising to you, they were in chinese.

“What are these?” you asked.

“Nothing. I was just doing some research.”

“About what?” you asked as you opened one and flipped through a few pages. You didn’t know why. You couldn’t read them anyway.

But Liu seemed hesitant to answer.

You looked over to him curiously. Was he… nervous? You looked back to the book and really wished you knew some of these words… any of them. What was this book? Before you could flip through it much more, Liu had gently taken it from you and closed it. He then turned your attention to the other book. “This one is about Arcanas. Historical account. I was hoping to find yours in there. Maybe find some way to help you gain more control.

You decided to let that other mysterious book go. Whatever it was, Liu didn’t seem ready to admit it yet. But this one about arcanas… That one he was alright with telling you about. And he was reading it to try and help you… You smiled and opened it to where a scrap of paper had been used as a bookmark. “Did you find anything?”

“Not yet.”

“What’s this then?” You asked, tapping the marked page.

“Fire.”

“Oh!” God, you wished you could read it. “What’s it say?”

Liu chuckled. “Do you really want to know? It’s nothing you can use.”

“So?”

He was grinning as he watched you and surprised when you handed the open book back to him.

“Read it to me,” you said, looking back up to him.

“Read it to you?”

“Yeah.”

Liu chuckled again and shrugged his shoulders. He looked back to the book. “Well, first of all,” he said, then turned the book around.

Your face fell. You’d been holding it upside down? “Oh.” Liu was grinning. “Sorry,” you said.

Liu shook his head as he read over the page silently for a second. The words that came out of his mouth the next second… were not English.

“Hey!” You grabbed his pillow and swatted him with it, earning you another laugh before he used the book to shield himself against another feathered attack.

“You said read it!” He laughed.

“You knew what I meant!” You scolded him playfully. You swung the pillow again, but he’d caught it and yanked it. You weren’t sure if he meant to pull it from your hands, but you hadn’t let go. You were pulled right into him. One of his arms wrapped around you as he finally pried the pillow from your grip.

The book was abandoned as his lips connected with yours. And you didn’t fight it this time. You melted right into the kiss--into his strong arms as he pulled you right onto his lap. It didn’t take long before you felt his excitement again, pressing against you as your kiss grew heavy.

Where Lao’s kiss had be rough and desperate, Liu’s was slow and deliberate. He took his time with you, exploring you. Your tongues were entwinning as his fingers trailed back up under your gi, slowly working their way up your back. You felt him find the clasp of your bra, then follow the band around your sides. You were heating up with his touch. And as a hand moved over your breast, you were reminded just how close you two were.

You gently pulled your head back from the kiss. You slowly opened your eyes to see his eyes, half-lidded as he watched you. Your jaw hardened. This is when you were going panic again, wasn’t it? You didn’t have much time to think about it. Liu had moved a hand to the back of your neck. He pulled you in like he had the first time in the fight pit. Your kiss resumed.

Liu groaned softly into the kiss as you rocked your hips on him. Your hands had begun exploring his body. He was so hard. So vascular. You could feel him flexing beneath your fingers, as if trying to show himself off. And he was throbbing between your legs.

You were weightless the next minute. You grabbed hold of his shoulders as he leaned forward, laying you back on his bed. His hot mouth moved from your lips and down the side of your neck. A strong hand gripped tight to the back of one of your thighs as he settled between them. You bit your bottom lip as you looked up at his ceiling. You were sure Lao wasn’t going to come knocking. Nothing… No one was going to interrupt you. If you wanted this to stop, you’d have to stop it yourself…

A small moan escaped you as Liu’s lip trailed over your collar. Your head tilted back. Who were you kidding. You didn’t want this to stop. Not for a second.

Sliding your hands down from his shoulders, you quickly found his red sash and tugged at it, fingers working to blindly untie it. Liu chuckled into your shoulder as you grew impatient. Pulling away and sitting up on his knees, you watched breathlessly as he untied the sash and slipped out of his gi top. Your eyes widened at the sight.

You reached up, letting your hands trace over his well chiseled abs… He had those strong obliques too. Just peeking out from the waistband of his pants. Looking back up to his face, you found him grinning.

Your turn. Your hands pulled away from him and to your own belt. You made such quick work of it. Without anxiety in the way, you were so eager. But when it came time to slip out of your gi top… you suddenly felt self-conscious.

Liu noticed. He leaned back down to you and brought you back into another kiss. He was slowing you down. And you were thankful for it. His hands began roaming you again. Your own hands returned to tracing his impressive muscles. Feeling Liu's weight rest on top of you was surreal. You wrapped your legs around his waist and gasped when he grinded himself against you, feeling just how hard he was--how much he wanted you. You groaned softly into the kiss. You couldn't deny it, you wanted him too.

But there was a problem…

You reluctantly broke the kiss and reached up to hold his face gently so he couldn't move on to your neck again. "I'm gonna guess you don't have any condoms," you breathed, opening your eyes to look at him.

You were met with a face of defeat. Liu's brows had bunched as his spirits deflated with being reminded that, no, he did not have condoms. He doubted there were any in the temple at all. He groaned his sigh and let his head fall to rest in the crook of your neck.

Liu wasn't angry with you. But he was annoyed. Annoyed at himself for forgetting that one little detail.

You sighed and ran your fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry," you whispered.

To your surprise, Liu began trailing soft kisses up to your ear. "Don't be," he said. "At least one of us is thinking."

You grinned and turned your head to catch his lips with your own.

[hotchseyebrows]

it's a matter of seeing

a derek morgan x penelope garcia fic

a/n: hello again beloveds !!! today i present to you Another derek and penelope are kissing for the first time fic. what can i say, it's simply the best. thank you as always to the spectacular @blkantigone for being my supportive and helpful first reader and editor, love youuu! thank all of you for reading (im getting faster between uploads, have you noticed?)

title is from emily l. by marguerite duras. full line is "I don't know if love's a feeling. Sometimes I think it's a matter of seeing. Seeing you."

rating/warnings: gen audiences :) two vague allusions to sex but nothing even close to explicit, its more just in the way it exists in the background and derek is injured but it's superbly minor

read it here on ao3!

Derek steps closer to Penelope. “You had to see me. With your own eyes.”

Penelope rolls her eyes. “Yes, silly goose, that’s the usual way of seeing.”

-

Derek gets hurt on a case, and Penelope worries. He's fine, but she still worries.

word count: 2028

Derek glances at the time on his phone. Almost midnight, though it could be closer to 4 a.m. for how tired the team is tonight. A long case in Colorado kept them away from home for almost two weeks, and all Derek wants is to pet his dog and sleep in his own bed.

“Could this elevator ride be any slower?” Emily groans from where she’s leaning on the wall behind him.

“You know, Prentiss, I could have just gotten a late night taxi or grabbed one of the last trains.” Spencer is rocking back and forth on his heels next to her, a yawn growing on his lips. 

“Nuh uh, kid, I’m getting you home whether you like it or not. I just wish you didn’t need that notebook from your desk tonight.”

“Sorry,” Spencer says, cringing slightly. Derek looks back to see Emily nudge his shoulder with a fond grin. Spencer’s shoulders relax.

“Why are you coming up, Hotch?” Derek asks the man in the opposite corner from Emily.

“Files.” Hotch stays facing the elevator door, only glancing at Derek.

“No way are you planning on staying here and working tonight– Hotch. We’ve been gone for two weeks–” (“Almost two weeks,” says Spencer. Derek waves him off.) “– you should be going home.”

“I’m just grabbing a few things. I’ll get back on this elevator with you.” Hotch glances at the time on his own phone then, unlocking it to open a text message from Jess. Derek sees a picture of smiling Jack for a split second before he looks away. “Jess is already expecting me.”

Derek hums in acknowledgement. He rolls his shoulder as the doors open and they walk towards the bullpen together.

“Shoulder still hurting, Morgan?” Emily asks. The day before they came home, one of the unsubs got the jump on Derek, tackling him to the ground. Emily easily subdued him, but Derek landed funny on a wayward pipe. His shoulder has been bothering him ever since. He nods in response.

“I’ll be fine.” Emily scoffs at him, but says nothing. He will. Eventually.

Spencer holds open the door for Derek. “Here, Morgan. So you don’t aggravate your injury.”

“Hilarious. Ha ha. When’s the stand-up tour? Have you been moonlighting at comedy clubs, pretty boy?”

Spencer sticks his tongue out at him. He quickly pulls it back in his mouth when he catches Hotch looking at him. To their surprise, Hotch cracks a small smile. “Reid has a point, Morgan.” Emily lets out a laugh that is more a cackle than anything.

“Evil. You’re all evil.” He walks through the held open door anyway.

Most of the desk lamps are off, the bullpen empty this late. But his chair is spinning slightly and his light is on. A mop of blonde hair, today a mess of curls with a large sparkly flower pinned at the top, bounces as the chair spins.

“Baby girl, what are you doing here?” Penelope spins to face him, a brilliant smile flashing onto her face immediately. “It’s late. You could have gone home hours ago.”

“Where’s JJ and Rossi?” 

“Already in their cars on the way home. We all needed something from up here first.” She’s standing now, and he steps in front of her. “Don’t avoid my question, Mama,” he says, lightly tapping the tip of her nose.

Her smile falters, worry breaking through. “You got hurt.” Her eyebrows crease as she looks him over.

Derek raises both eyebrows. “Yea, but I’m okay. A little injury.”

The crease does not go away. “You got hurt. I don’t like when you get hurt.” He uses his non injured arm to pull her in for a hug. She wraps him in her arms immediately, her face pressing against his chest. The usual private shiver dances down his spine at the feeling. He rubs a small circle on the middle on her back as the tension bleeds out of her.

“See, baby girl? I’m fine.” Penelope picks up her head and looks at him. “Heart’s still beating. Blood’s still pumping. It’s just a little booboo.” She laughs at his word choice. “I’m okay. Promise.”

“You’re gonna rest at home? Ice it, or heating pad it up, or whatever you need?” He nods. “And you’ll call me if you need my help?”

“I promise.” She pops on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “You’re cute when you’re worried.”

Penelope tilts her head back and laughs. “I’m always cute, Derek Morgan. Don’t you forget it.” She never looks more beautiful than when she laughs. 

“I won’t,” he says, moving his arm to her waist and walking them both to his desk. Spencer is closing his bag at his desk while Emily leans back in his chair, eyes closed.

“Okay, I’m ready,” says Spencer, nudging the chair with his foot. Emily blinks her eyes open, sitting up. “And I can drive, Emily, you’re more tired than I am.” She opens her mouth to argue, but a yawn comes out instead. She hands Spencer the keys without a word.

“Why are you here, Garcia?” Emily asks.

“Had to see my sweet love in person as soon as you got home.” Derek’s heart flips in his chest. “I worry,” she says simply. Emily nods, giving Derek a long look.

Hotch appears at the top of the stairs next to his office. “I’m leaving.” The unsaid addition of that means you are too rings out from the eyebrow heavy look he gives them all.

Derek grabs the file he needs and a novel his sister sent him from his desk drawer quickly. “Come on baby girl, I’ll walk you out.”

“My very own Prince Charming,” she says as she loops her arm through his.

Spencer starts telling Emily about a Russian film festival coming up in a few weeks as they lead the way to the door. Hotch is close behind, silent but listening. Penelope pulls on Derek a little and they follow. 

She puts her head on his shoulder. On reflex, he kisses the top of her head. Not for the first time, he thinks about how easy it is for her to slot into place in his life. She just fits, no matter where he is or what he’s doing. There she is, a voice on the phone or the person spinning in his desk chair in the middle of the night solely because she needs to see him in person.

He falters as they walk through the glass doors. Penelope only makes it a few steps before she’s looking back at where he’s frozen, mind whirring. Emily is pressing the button to the elevator ahead of them. “Der?” Penelope asks.

“Why are you here?”

She tilts her head. “I told you. I worry.”

“You could have called Penelope. You did call, we talked on the plane.”

Now she blushes. She never blushes. “I had– I had to see for myself. I didn’t want to wait until Monday.”

A realization washes over Derek. “You had to see,” he repeats, a smile growing on his face.

She sways a little on her feet. “Yes, I said that.” The trio at the elevator notices them lingering by the doors, but Hotch stops Spencer from calling out with a knuckle brush to the forearm.

Derek steps closer to Penelope. “You had to see me. With your own eyes.”

Penelope rolls her eyes. “Yes, silly goose, that’s the usual way of seeing.” Derek takes another step, now only an arm’s length away. 

“It’s midnight on a Saturday. And you waited for me here, alone.”

She nods.

“Even though we talked today and you know that I’m okay, that I’ve had worse injuries.”

She nods again.

“Penelope,” he says, voice barely a whisper. He steps impossibly closer. “Why are you here?”

A look of fear settles on Penelope’s face. “Derek–”

“No, it’s alright!” He grabs her hand. “I just need you to say it.”

She softens, something like hope lighting up her eyes. “If you need me to say it, then you already know.”

He releases a loud laugh– the kind of joyous sound that comes unbidden from the bottom of the stomach. Leaning forward, he rests their foreheads together, watching her reaction. When she smiles, he knows for sure. “Yea I do,” he says.

She leans in across the tiny distance between them and presses their lips together. Derek forgets about the lingering ache in his shoulder in favor of this new feeling. He swings an arm around her waist and straightens up, pulling her flush against him. She wraps her arms around his neck, a soft sound humming against his lips. He’s about to slip his tongue into her mouth and carry her off to an empty office when someone clears their throat from across the room.

Penelope pulls back first, automatically hiding her face in Derek’s neck. Emily is hiding a smile behind her hand. Hotch’s eyebrows are raised slightly, the ghost of a smile around his eyes. Spencer makes no attempt to hide his glee, fingers tapping together happily. Derek grins at them. “Can I help you three?”

“Just thought you’d want to carry on somewhere else. And the elevator is here.” Sure enough, Emily has a foot in the elevator door. She shows him her full grin this time. “Not that we weren’t having fun watching the show.” 

He scoffs. “Next time, we’re charging a ticket price.” Penelope giggles.

“Next time?” she whispers.

He nods. “If you want.”

“Yes! Yes. I want. Very much so.” He smiles, a full eye crinkle 1000 watt smile, and interlocks their fingers to lead her to the elevator. She slots in right at his side, putting her head back on his shoulder. 

They stay that way the whole way down and keep their hands together as they walk to the parking lot. Emily makes kissy faces as she and Spencer get into her car. Spencer waves happily. Hotch gives them a soft smile before he disappears around a corner.

Derek pulls her in for another kiss right next to Esther. Just because he can. “Follow me home?” he mutters against her lips. “We don’t have to… tonight. Next time. But I’ll make breakfast.”

She traces a spiral on his upper arm. “Okay. It’s a date.” He kisses the tip of her nose just to hear her giggle.

She gives him one more kiss before gently shoving him in the direction of his car. “The faster you get to your car, the faster we get home.” He blows her a kiss before jogging to where he parked two weeks ago. She catches it and puts it right over her heart.

The streets are almost empty as they drive, and Derek keeps pulling up next to her at stoplights to ask if she comes here often or if she wants to race. By the time they arrive at Derek’s apartment building, it’s almost one a.m. and they are both dead on their feet. Still, they stop to kiss in front of his elevator. They kiss again just inside of his front door and again when he hands her an old shirt to wear to bed. He has the urge to pinch his arm, just to double check that he’s not still asleep on the plane. But no, there she is, brushing her teeth in his bathroom with a spare toothbrush. He's never felt this kind of peace with someone else in his space. She has toothpaste on the corner of her mouth and her eyes are bloodshot from exhaustion. I love you, he thinks.

“What?” she asks. “You’re staring.”

Derek hums, wrapping an arm around her waist. "Do you blame me?" He grabs a tissue and blots away the toothpaste. It's a slight deflection, but it's not the moment for what he's really thinking. She scrunches her nose and smiles.

"No. You have good taste."

"Damn right I do, baby girl. The best taste." 

They don’t kiss much when they lay in Derek’s bed, too tired to do much more than cuddle up together and turn off the lights. But Derek doesn’t mind. He’s already thinking about breakfast.

[journalxxx]

By Hook or by Crook (4)

Oh God, there’s another one.

The thought came unbidden to Toshinori’s mind, and it engulfed him in the closest thing to pure dread he had felt in years. It had taken two centuries, the sacrifice of seven One For All users, and two of his own major organs to take down a single All For One wielder, and now a brand new one had somehow sprouted right in front of him.

Now. Now that he had finally decided to tackle the hurdle of entrusting a relatively stable Japan to a successor, now that he was weaker and less capable than ever of defending it from a new threat. Now that the deadline of Nighteye’s prophecy was drawing closer and closer. His own gruesome death on the battlefield, and the sudden reappearance of All For One’s quirk. The unavoidable connection between the two facts almost robbed him of his breath.

Toshinori couldn’t tear his eyes away from the boy’s hand. It looked diminutive in comparison to his own, and completely inoffensive. It had the soft, unblemished appearance that suited someone who had never hit anything bigger than a fly, whereas the hero’s skin had long since been roughened by calluses, and his joints slightly thwarted by the occasional fracture. Yet, that single, unassuming dimple in the middle of its palm made it more potentially destructive than a hundred of Smashes combined.

A sort of choked whimper made Toshinori finally raise his gaze. He realized he had stopped trying to school his expression only when he saw his own strung-out stupor mirrored in Midoriya’s features. 

“I-I… Sorry, I r-really have t-to…” The boy took a step back, his hand slipping from the man’s grasp, then he suddenly turned on his heels and motioned to sprint away.

“Hey, hey!” Toshinori reached forward, grabbing Midoriya’s wrist by sheer reflex. He had already wasted enough time and energy chasing slimy villains and rash teenagers all over the town that day, thank you very much. “Where are you going?”

Midoriya froze on the spot, as if shocked by an electric current. His arm was rigid in Toshinori’s grasp, pulling away from it but without any real conviction. His head turned slowly towards the hero but not fully, letting him see only half of the boy’s face. The unmistakable terror etched in those wide eyes made something constrict in Toshinori’s chest.

“I-I’m… I’m so sorry…” The boy’s voice was down a trembling, barely audible whisper.“I didn’t mean to d-do that… I’ve never… I won’t do it again, I swear, j-just…” 

Midoriya’s free hand hovered over the hero’s, maybe having half a mind of prying it open, but he didn’t even dare to touch it. Toshinori let go of him immediately. The kid wasn’t expecting it, judging by his flabbergasted expression, and all he did with his regained freedom was backing away from him with a couple of uncertain steps, bumping into a nearby electric pole with his backpack and just standing there, pretty much like a cornered mouse cowering before a lion.

The sight jolted Toshinori back to reality with brutal efficiency. God, what was wrong with him today? He was handling this abysmally. That was no two-hundred-year-old manipulative slaughterer, that was a child. A child rapidly working himself into a panic, if his onsetting tremors were of any indication. Ironically, the realization grounded Toshinori even more. Frightened victims and distraught relatives were a daily occurrence in his line of work, and his professional composure slipped back in place almost subconsciously.

“You don’t need to apologize. Quite the opposite. You saved everyone. The hostage, the bystanders… even me. I’m not sure I’d have had the energy to keep up appearances after another smash.” He put up his hands and showed his palms with slow movements, keeping his voice low and level. “You did nothing wrong back there.”

Midoriya slowly slumped down the pole, his limbs huddled in a distressed heap. He blinked quickly as his eyes shied away from Toshinori’s, hands bunching up the fabric of his trousers nervously. “...I-I can give it back. The quirk. I want to give it back to its owner.”

“That can be easily arranged.” Something about the whole situation was nagging at Toshinori, but he pushed that feeling aside for the moment. The boy wasn’t holding himself in any way that hinted at specific injuries, but fear could be one hell of an anesthetic. He gazed up and down the road, finding it completely deserted. He still felt slightly abuzz with the adrenaline rush caused by his second encounter with the sludge villain and the recent revelation of Midoriya’s quirk. He gauged that he could probably (possibly, maybe, hopefully) abuse One For All for another twenty seconds or so if need be, just the time to scoop up the boy in his arms and power run back to the ambulances at the site of the accident. That was likely to cause even more distress to the poor kid though, so he’d rather hold off on it unless clearly necessary. “Are you sure you aren’t in any pain?”

“I-I’m f-fine.” The boy wiggled the backpack off his shoulders and rummaged through it shakily, a few tears rolling down his cheeks and his hiccups becoming harder to contain. “I’m fine…”

“Hey, kid. Look at me. Deep breaths.” Toshinori finally ventured a step and a half towards Midoriya, squatting at a reasonable distance to his side instead of right in front of him, to make sure he wouldn’t feel too crowded. Toshinori offered him a couple of tissues (always plentiful in his pockets) while the boy tried to regain a semblance of calm. “It’s all right. I am here.”

That got the boy’s attention. The catchphrase had slipped out of him automatically, without his trademark panache or blinding smile or overflowing optimism, but Midoriya looked at him like he’d been thrown a lifeline nonetheless. The dam broke and big, shiny tears erupted from his eyes as he accepted the tissues and buried his sobs in them. They remained like that for a while, the kid quietly working through his sniffles while Toshinori sat cross-legged on the dusty asphalt, reminding him to take his time whenever he got a little fidgety.

“Sorry if I spooked you.“ Toshinori eventually offered with a small smile, after Midoriya had finally settled down. “I’m a little out of it myself, today. Not the most auspicious first day in my new neighborhood, but what can you do?”

“Uh? Do you mean you’re moving here?” Midoriya asked while he accepted the fourth tissue and wiped away the remaining dampness from his face.

“Mh-hm.” After the debacle on the rooftop, this didn’t feel like too much of a sensitive bit of information to share. Besides, the kid was a fan, so maybe throwing him a bone would help him relax a little more.

“Why? Isn’t it inconvenient for you? I thought you lived in a penthouse above Might Tower, in Tokyo’s Minato Ward, Roppongi 6-12-”

...Ah, he was that kind of fan. Obviously. “Indeed, but I’ve decided to move to… broaden my professional horizons, so to speak.”

“Oh! Are you planning to open a branch of your agency here? Or are you joining some local long-term operation?“ That spark of morbid curiosity in the boy’s eyes made Toshinori regret bringing up the topic in two seconds flat.

“I’m afraid that’s all I can say on the matter, everything’s still under tight wraps. You’ll hear all about it from the news, eventually.” He stood up and patted some dirt off his hands and pants. “Do you live far from here? I’ll walk you home if you’re feeling better.”

“Oh, uh…” The boy gaped at him in surprise. “Thank you, but there’s no need for you to go out of your way! I’m fine, really!”

“Think nothing of it.” Toshinori hooked three fingers under the strap of the boy’s backpack and hauled it over his own shoulder. It hit his back with unexpected oomph. What did kids even put in those things, weren’t textbooks all digital these days? “Clearly this isn’t your lucky day either. I’ll sleep better tonight knowing that you reached your house safely without being run over by a truck or abducted by aliens.”

The joke got a half-smile out of Midoriya, at long last. He held out his hand to the boy to help him back on his feet. The obvious hesitation and near disbelief he couldn’t hide before gingerly accepting the proffered hand gave Toshinori another small wave of unease. There was definitely something strange about all this, aside from the obvious. He gestured for the kid to lead the way, and they set off towards their new destination.

Toshinori granted him a few minutes of silence before breaching the pivotal subject. “So… you have quite the interesting quirk.”

“...Mh.” Midoriya visibly stiffened. So it had been the quirk talk to give him cold feet, rather than a generic reaction to the day’s stress...

“Why didn’t you use it against the villain the first time he attacked you?” Toshinori asked, opting for a more roundabout approach.

“Ah… I’m sorry. I really should have. You wouldn’t have had to waste your power if I’d-”

“Forget about me! Why didn’t you use it to defend yourself? Did you panic?”

“Uh, well, not too much.” The kid shoved his hands in his pockets and dropped his gaze to the ground, his voice lowering to a droning mutter. “I can take quirks, but I don’t automatically learn how to use them. The villain’s quirk looked like it may be difficult to handle. What if I couldn’t maintain a solid form and just turned myself into a puddle of goo? What if some parts of my slime got detached from the main body during the scuffle, and I found myself missing chunks of flesh upon turning back human? What if the sludge was only an outer layer over my body, and without fine control I ended up drowning in it? Stuff like that… I should have just taken the villain’s quirk without activating it, but I was afraid that he’d get even angrier and he’d just beat me up anyway. I’m not, uh, strong. Or fast. At all. I didn’t consider that he might freak out long enough for me to run away…”

Toshinori blinked. “...Sorry, how long had that guy been harassing you before I showed up?”

“Oh, not long at all. Twenty or thirty seconds, I think.”

“And you went through all of that in twenty seconds. While being ambushed and choked.”

Midoriya just shrugged.

“That is… some quick thinking, all right.” Toshinori commented. He omitted the fact that it was a brand of quick thinking that was more likely to get you killed rather than saving your skin during an emergency. Apparently Midoriya would hesitate to protect himself from a violent attacker, but he’d run for the hills the moment the Symbol of Peace gave him a bit of an odd look. The kid’s fight-or-flight response was all over the place.

“I would have used my quirk to fight back eventually, if you hadn’t arrived so soon… probably…”

“...But?” Toshinori encouraged, sensing the unspoken addition.

“But… not many people know about my quirk. Very few, actually. And I’d like to keep it that way. If it’s possible.”

“Why?”

“...It’s not a good quirk.” Midoriya frowned, hunching his shoulders a bit. “One could do really bad things with it.”

“I could squash a man’s skull with my thumb and level a city block with a punch.” Toshinori countered plainly. “It doesn’t mean I’m going to.”

“It’s… it’s different. You can choose to use your quirk only for good, but mine requires…” The boy trailed off, then hazarded a glance at the hero. “You know what I mean. You understood as soon as I told you, I saw it.”

Toshinori couldn’t argue on that point, unfortunately. Still… 

There could be a perfectly innocent explanation for Midoriya to wield All For One. For one, it could be a different quirk altogether, one that simply mimicked Toshinori’s nemesis’, but that wasn’t quite the same, maybe with some unmentioned limitations (although the palm marks made for quite the uncanny similarity). Moreover, much like look-alikes, duplicate quirks between unrelated people weren’t unheard of, although said quirks were usually quite simple ones, like basic physical enhancers or elemental emitters.

What really bothered Toshinori were the boy’s evident sense of guilt and fear of exposure. Virtually any moderately powerful quirk could be employed to ‘do really bad things’, but hardly any children grew up to be so blatantly scared and ashamed of their own abilities. Family and school usually nurtured a degree of confidence and trust in their own capabilities. Toshinori’s knee-jerk reaction was a byproduct of specific knowledge and experience, but Midoriya’s? If only few people knew about his quirk, it must mean he hadn’t used it much, if at all, in the past, ruling out peer pressure as well. What explanation, what innocent explanation could there be for such a strong negative bias, aside from knowledge and experience he wasn’t supposed to have?

“At least your parents know about your quirk, I hope?”

“My mother doesn’t. My father… isn’t really around.” Toshinori couldn’t decide if that last bit of information was a good or a bad sign.

“So… who did you tell?”

“Just one friend and my father.” Ah, we had one likely culprit then. A father that was around but not really. Suspicious. “And now you, I guess. And… everyone who saw what I did to that villain… including the police…” Midoriya looked just about ready to dig a ditch and roll in it. 

“Well, as I said, everyone seemed to think I took care of the matter, so-”

Midoriya shook his head, utterly demoralized. “Kacchan will tell them.”

“Kacchan?”

“Ah, the hostage. He’s my friend, the one who knows about my quirk. I don’t think he’ll lie to the police for my sake.”

“Ah, I see. I hadn’t realized you two were acquainted.” Toshinori offered him a supportive smile. “I guess that explains your burst of heroism.”

“...No one else was doing anything. I saw you among the crowd, but… I thought you couldn’t help.”

The boy had an almost tortured expression, which reignited the deep-seated guilt that had plagued Toshinori in those harrowing minutes. “...I thought I couldn’t help either.” 

“But you did jump in though. Even though… it hurts you?” Midoriya scanned him from head to toe in concern, as if looking for unnoticed signs of damage. “Why?”

“Why did you decide to intervene, despite your fear?”

“I… I just couldn’t let my friend suffer because I messed up.”

“Well, there you have it.” Toshinori simply said. The boy stared at him thoughtfully, apparently weighing his words carefully, before nodding slowly and resuming his perusal of the ground. Toshinori let the silence stretch for a minute. There was still plenty he wanted to ask, especially regarding Midoriya’s father, but-

“I really do want to give the quirk back.” The kid mumbled. “Should I just… go to the police and ask them? They’ll come looking for me anyway, I guess, but…”

Toshinori pondered the issue for a moment, then he pulled his phone out of his pocket. The least he could do was make this whole ordeal as smooth as possible for the kid. “I think I can help with that. Give me your number. I’ll text you to let you know when we can visit the villain. If we’re lucky, it may be as early as tomorrow.” 

Toshinori registered the boy’s contact information as they entered a quaint residential area with neat little rows of numbered buildings, pleasantly tinged with the warm hues of the sunset.

“Ah, that’s where I live.” Midoriya said afterwards, pointing at a nearby apartment complex. “Thank you for everything, All-”

Toshinori shushed him with a sharp gesture as he gazed around the street nervously. “Please, don’t call me that when I’m in this form.”

Midoriya froze, then bowed respectfully. “R-Right! Thank you, sir! I’m sorry for causing you so much trouble, and taking so much of your time, and-”

Toshinori waved the upcoming barrage of apologies off and bid him a good evening, waiting for the boy to leave. Which he didn’t do.

“Uhm.” Midoriya pointed at Toshinori’s shoulder with an awkward smile. “I need that…”

Oh, right, backpack. “Whoops, there you go.” He tossed Midoriya’s belongings to their owner and watched the kid bustle up the stairs of the building and into one of the apartments. Then he fetched his phone and picked the third number on speed-dial.

“Tsukauchi? Do you have a moment? ….Ah, fine, thank you. Listen, can I drop by your place this evening? Something’s come up and I’d rather not discuss it on the phone… No, but definitely worth looking into sooner rather than later…”

He hung up a couple of exchanges later, after agreeing on the time for the meeting. Toshinori decided he had enough time to make his way back home, shower and have some sort of passable dinner before ruining his friend’s evening. And then he would head back home and he would sleep, even if he had to repeatedly bash his head against a wall to achieve that. He inhaled deeply and let out a long-overdue, exhausted sigh. 

What a day. 

Hopefully tomorrow wouldn’t be quite as taxing.

“THIEF”

Izuku was stuck on the spot, his feet and ankles wrapped in a thick layer of sludge that stretched on the ground as far as the eye could see. The faint light filtering from both ends of the underpass gave it flickering, changing hues, now green like bile, now brown like vomit, now black like tar. It smelled like sewer and dirty toilets. 

“BASTARD”

The slime clung to the walls of the underpass, climbing on them as if endowed with its own will. It crawled up higher and higher, and then went on to expand onto the ceiling. Its surface boiled and squirmed producing disgusting squelching sounds. Izuku looked away from the revolting goo-coated structure he was boxed in, he looked towards the exit, hoping that something, someone would show up to drag him out of that hell.

“GIVE IT BACK”

Someone emerged from the sludge, a few meters ahead of him. A man. A flabby, hairless, mucky man, with haunted eyes and a mouth open in a silent scream. He sweated slime, cried slime, drooled slime, from every orifice and every pore of his body. He waded towards Izuku slowly, an arm extended before him as if to grab him. Izuku couldn’t stand that sight either. He aimed his gaze at the ceiling, right when a huge bubble of gunk popped right above him, and chunky dollops of filth splashed on his face, into his nose and mouth.

“OR I’LL RIP IT OUT OF YOU”

Izuku coughed and heaved, trying to expel the repulsive substance from his pipes, but two cold, slick hands clamped around his throat, trapping it in his body. He could feel the ooze drip down into his lungs, his stomach- he could feel it wiggle and push, like a living parasite trying to break free from the flesh constraining it. Izuku scrambled to tear the man’s hands off him, but those too melted under his fingers like the same fluid that was everywhere, closing down on him, choking him, pulling him apart from the inside-

 Izuku woke up with a whole-body lurch that nearly sent him rolling off the bed, sweaty and breathless. He took in the familiar shadows of his room, and the red numbers of his alarm clock floating in the darkness at his eye level. 

6:20 AM.

Izuku turned on his belly with a frustrated groan, sinking his face into the pillow. Sure, he’d had a pretty harrowing day yesterday. It was bound to leave him a little shaken and maybe disturb his sleep for a while. But seven nightmares in the span of as many hours seemed slightly excessive. Especially seven instances of the exact same nightmare, sentient goo and Munch-like villain and all. The boy fumbled blindly for his phone to check if he’d received any new messages in the last fifty-five minutes. He hadn’t, of course. He prayed that All Might would contact him soon, it didn’t take a degree in psychology to guess the nature of the ‘unfinished business’ his subconscious was so keen on grilling him about.

He stared at the screen blankly, wondering, for roughly the hundredth time, if he should call his father. On one hand, he very probably should. If the man had deemed that little scuffle with Kacchan emergency-worthy, surely a mess this humongous in size warranted a call as well. On the other hand… Izuku didn’t really want to. 

The previous night’s news broadcast had covered the sludge villain incident rather haphazardly, it being a relatively contained accident with no serious consequences or injuries. Izuku was sure they had bothered to touch on the fact in the first place just because All Might had been involved, and the number one hero would receive prime time coverage even for something as trivial as being spotted buying soda at a convenience store. Curiously, Izuku hadn’t been mentioned at all, not even indirectly. Kacchan had been named and shown as the victim, the other heroes had been acknowledged, but All Might had been appointed as the sole person responsible for the resolution of the mishap. Not a word about any irresponsible middle schoolers joining the fray.

Izuku had taken it as a promising sign. All Might had likely interceded for him with the police and obtained a modicum of discretion about his involvement, at least in regards to the media. The hero had been so very understanding the previous day - just thinking about it made the boy almost tear up anew. He had barely reacted to the shocking revelation of his quirk, he had tolerated his unseemly outburst, he had spoken to him as if… as if Izuku was just another innocent victim caught up in a bad situation, rather than a potential menace. He hadn’t hesitated even for a second to offer him his hand, despite knowing the threat that Izuku’s own hands posed. He had… he had made him feel safe, and trusted. He had allowed Izuku to hope that maybe, just maybe, this whole thing could be fixed, that Izuku could handle it with his help, even without subjecting his father to undue sniveling.

And, objectively speaking, what could Izuku’s father do at this point? Izuku doubted that, regardless of his governmental position, the man could prevent the truth from spreading once it had reached both the police and the number one hero. Izuku could make an educated guess about his reaction too, and it wasn’t all that encouraging. It was too late for stern recommendations about secrecy, or for disappointed sighs and gratuitous snark about Izuku’s blind faith in All Might’s mediation skills. And, to be perfectly honest, Izuku dreaded the possibility of finally and completely alienating the sympathy of the one person that had supported and advised him for his whole life, in his own peculiar way. Yes, it was childish of him. Yes, he would have to tell his father anyway, eventually. But he’d rather do it after the matter had been settled, hopefully for the best, and after he’d had a little more time to gather his thoughts and figure out how to word it a little less unfavorably for himself. So, there. It was the 28th of April too, he could wait another day or two, at least. No biggie.

By breakfast time, Izuku had reviewed the issue three more times, had another nightmare, and accepted the fact that this was going to be a long day. 

School went by in that typical hazy fashion that was the result of intellectual activities synergizing poorly with a sleep-deprived brain. Izuku kept eyeing Kacchan warily throughout the first three classes, harboring the half-baked notion of addressing yesterday’s events. He regretted doing it the very moment he opened his mouth to greet him during recess.

“What?” Kacchan growled without sparing him a single glance.

“Uh, ah, I…” How are you was one possible conversation starter. A bad one, for sure. Worrying about Kacchan’s well-being implied that he may not be okay, which implied weakness, which invited aggression as a counter-argument. Did you tell anyone else about what I did yesterday was downright rude, as if Izuku’s quirk was more important than his friend being almost murdered. In fact, any reference to the villain incident was a minefield. Braver classmates than Izuku had already made their inquiries during homeroom, and Kacchan hadn’t taken kindly to their snooping. This really was a bad-

“WHAT?” Kacchan barked, turning sharply towards Izuku and banging his fist on his desk for emphasis.

“Uh, nothing! Just saying hello! Hi! Bye!” Izuku fled the classroom without looking back before Kacchan decided to force-feed him his own shoes.

The first bit of good news of the day reached him during lunch, under the guise of a text.

Hey kid! We can drop by the police station this afternoon at 5 if you’re free

Izuku brought up the virtual keyboard to reply, but he stopped with his finger poised over the screen. He blinked at the unlabeled string of digits identifying the sender.

He had All Might’s phone number. One of many, probably. Definitely one of the lowest priority lines. Or maybe just some sort of burner phone for communications with civilians only. Still. He had All Might’s phone number. All Might was texting him. The realization made him half-choke on his rice.

Should he save it? Would that be a breach of confidentiality? Even if he used a not-too-obvious handle? N1? SP? AM? Ante Meridiem? ...That would just make it more suspicious, wouldn’t it? He’d just… commit it to memory for now. In case he ever needed it again. For purely altruistic reasons.

Sure, I’m free! Thank you very much for the help!

Izuku’s phone chimed again a couple of minutes later.

We’ll come pick you up at your place

That ‘we’ raised a small wave of anxiety in Izuku, but he willed himself to suppress it. He couldn’t expect All Might to shield him from any and all interactions with the force. It’d be fine. He could handle this.

The perspective of visiting the villain revived Izuku’s attention for the remaining lessons, only for him to crash back into fidgety inactivity as soon as he got home and found himself without anything to do for almost two hours before the agreed time. Homework was out of the question, he was too distracted. He figured a nap would be the most inoffensive way to while away the time while also recovering some higher brain functions. And so it was only with a mild heart attack that Izuku was roused by the ringing of the doorbell at 4.50 PM.

“Young Midoriya! Good afternoon!” Even at a glance, Izuku could tell that All Might was in better shape than the previous day. He stood a bit straighter, his smile was a bit wider, his hair was slightly less chaotic. He was also wearing slacks and a button up shirt that, while still dramatically oversized, made him look a bit less like a phthisic hospital runaway. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yes! Thank you so much for going out of your way to take care of me!” Izuku declared with a rigid bow to All Might and to the other man standing by his side - definitely a detective, judging by his stereotypical trench coat.

All Might patted the man on the back with an even bigger grin. “This is Naomasa Tsukauchi, my favorite detective on the force! You may speak freely before him, you won’t find anyone more trustworthy in the whole of Japan!”

“A pleasure to meet you, Midoriya.” Tsukauchi politely removed his hat and shook the boy’s hand with an amused smirk, a sign that he was probably familiar with the hero’s odd choice of an introduction. He then peeked behind Izuku’s shoulders towards the inside of the house. “Isn’t your mother going to join us?”

“Ah no, she had a doctor’s appointment booked for today. It’s fine though, I’ll just send her a text to let her know where I’m going.” Izuku had warned his mother that he may have to visit the precinct soon. He had had to justify his singed and grimy school uniform the day before, so he had told her that he’d been marginally involved in the sludge villain incident, and the police was likely to want to collect his statement on the matter. It was only by pure chance that the news broadcast hadn’t outed his abridgment of the facts.

“Ah… We were hoping to have a few words with her too, actually.” Tsukauchi glanced at All Might, whose eyes darted briefly between the detective and the boy.

“I… may have forgotten to mention that.” All Might scratched the back of his neck with an apologetic grimace. “Well, I guess it can’t be helped. We’ll catch up with her another time, if necessary.”

Izuku had the sneaking suspicion that being All Might’s favorite detective came at a price. Tsukauchi just sighed, before regarding him with a gentle smile. “Well, if you are sure you don’t mind coming with us all by yourself…”

“I don’t mind at all!” Izuku hurried to reassure them. 

A minute later he was in the backseat of Tsukauchi’s speeding car, typing a message to his mother and struggling to suppress a monstrous yawn, courtesy of his interrupted nap.

“Tired?” All Might asked, intercepting his gaze in the rearview mirror.

“A bit. I didn't sleep well last night.”

“Ah, I know that feeling.” The hero’s expression mellowed in sympathy. “I’m sure you’ll rest more easily once this is over and done with.”

“I hope so.” Izuku pocketed his phone and gazed at the moving buildings out of the car window, mostly just to break eye contact. Somehow All Might’s open kindness felt undeserved, especially for something as trivial as a bunch of spooky dreams. He focused on more urgent matters. “So, uh… how are we going to do this? Does the villain know I’m coming, will I explain things to him? Will you, uh, keep an eye on things from outside or accompany me...?”

“Well, we were thinking of throwing you into his cell, locking the door and letting the two of you fight for dominance and ownership over the quirk- “ All Might grinned widely in response to Izuku’s exasperated gape.

“Yagi!” The detective reprimanded him, only mildly scandalized. The name bounced a few times around Izuku’s brain, plain and mystifying at the same time.

“Sorry, just trying to lift his spirits.” 

“You have nothing to worry about, it’ll be perfectly safe.” Tsukauchi provided, clearly having a much better understanding of the state of Izuku’s spirits despite knowing him for a scant ten minutes. “The villain will be in his cell and we will escort you inside, of course. You won’t really interact with each other, as he’ll likely be deeply asleep.”

“Asleep?”

“Yes. The apparent loss of his quirk has upset him greatly. He’s barely spoken since we took him into custody, and he’s spent the whole night in severe emotional distress. We would have transferred him to a hospital this morning if you hadn’t agreed to help so promptly. As things stood, we simply had a doctor prescribe him a strong sedative. Hopefully he’ll settle down spontaneously after you return his quirk.”

The man’s words weighed on Izuku’s heart like a ton of bricks. Damn, that was… horrible. He’d been holding onto someone else’s quirk for barely a day, and it had already caused that much sorrow. That wasn’t how Izuku’s power was supposed to be used. It would never be, as far as he was concerned.

“I’m sure he will.” All Might commented, all traces of humour vanished from his demeanor. “Don’t worry, kid. It’ll be a matter of a minute.”

Izuku nodded, and didn’t speak again for the rest of the trip. When they reached their destination, he let All Might guide him towards the detention area of the complex while Tsukauchi wandered off somewhere else, probably taking care of the bureaucratic side of things. He reappeared relatively soon, and they entered one of the cells all together.

The cell was small and mostly barren, furnished with only the most essential goods and surfaces for a relatively short stay. Idly, Izuku wondered what systems they had in place to prevent a… slippery criminal such as the current occupant from escaping from toilets or sinks. Surely they were prepared to- he realized he was spacing out. He should just get on with it.

The villain was indeed sleeping, huddled in a small foldable bedding on the floor. Izuku had barely caught a glimpse of the man’s human form the previous day, yet he was identical to how he’d envisioned him in his dreams. His subconscious was just that observant, apparently. It suddenly occurred to Izuku that he hadn’t even asked for the man’s name yet. The news broadcast hadn’t reported- he was procrastinating again. Just do it, Izuku.

The boy glanced questioningly at the detective, who made a small gesture to indicate that he was free to proceed. He approached his assailant and crouched beside him. The villain’s hand was sticking out from under the blanket, next to his head. Izuku rested his palm against the back of it, and simply willed the quirk out. 

Just like that, it was done. Izuku stood up and stepped back as the man’s body swiftly changed its texture and color, morphing and rearranging itself until a vaguely man-shaped, green heap of goo had replaced the slumbering human. The villain remained dead to the world throughout the entire process.

“...I’m done.” Izuku whispered, quite redundantly. He peered back at the two men at the opposite side of the room, and he didn’t miss the quick, sharp side-glance they’d just quietly exchanged.

“Thank you very much for your cooperation.” Tsukauchi said with the utmost honesty once they were again in the hallway. “While you’re here, would you mind if I collected your statement about the incident? It won’t take long, we already have a clear picture of the situation thanks to All Might.”

“Uh… Okay.” Izuku had hoped, rather optimistically, to skip that part, but he had no reasonable excuse to refuse. Tsukauchi led them to an empty room a couple of corridors further ahead, and held the door open for them. All Might lingered on the threshold.

“May I sit in?” His question was aimed at Izuku for some reason, rather than at his friend. 

“Of course!” Izuku confirmed, when both adults just stared at him in silence, clearly waiting for his permission. The hero thanked him with a small nod and an equally small smile.

They all sat around the desk in the middle of the room, Tsukauchi on one side, and Izuku and All Might on the other. It struck Izuku as a little strange, automatically expecting the two upholders of the law to face him side by side. He wondered if it may be a setup for some sort of good-cop-bad-cop routine. Not that either of them seemed especially suited to the latter role. Tsukauchi was very much the embodiment of professionalism, and All Might… All Might looked especially non-threatening in that moment, almost meek. He was sitting very tidily, big hands folded in his lap and long legs pressed against each other, occupying a remarkably small space considering the size of his frame. It made Izuku straighten his back and sit more neatly by reflex.

The questioning did proceed very smoothly at first. Tsukauchi let Izuku narrate his version of the events without interrupting at all, just humming and jotting down a few lines in his notepad now and then. All Might was just as unobtrusive, volunteering a sentence or two when Izuku happened to stumble on his words, or when he openly allowed him to recount the little scene on the rooftop, since the detective was already in on the big secret. Smooth sailing all round, until the point when Izuku had to bring up his quirk.

“On the subject of your quirk… when did it first manifest, exactly?” Tsukauchi asked.

“A little less than two years ago.”

“Ah, you’re quite the late bloomer! And you’ve only shared that fact with your friend Bakugo and your father, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“And your father is one... Hisashi Midoriya, right?” Tsukauchi fished out a sheet of paper from the folder he’d retrieved before beginning the interrogation. He slid it across the table so that the boy could read it.

“Yes.” Izuku blinked, an undefined sense of unease gripping him all of a sudden. “...Why did you bother printing his personal details?”

“You’ve been filed as quirkless in the national registry after a routine medical examination when you were four years old. Your registration hasn’t been updated since then, as far as I could ascertain.” Tsukauchi explained calmly.

“Y-Yeah. I know.”

“...That is a punishable offense, I’m afraid. An accurate quirk registration is mandatory for all citizens.” Tsukauchi’s expression softened when Izuku utterly failed to hide his dismay. “This has no consequence on you, as minors aren’t expected to take care of these things by themselves, especially since quirk recording is often carried out when they’re extremely young. Your mother bears no blame either if, as you say, she’s as clueless about it as the rest of the world. But if your father knew and neglected to sort out the necessary paperwork for so long-”

“Oh.” Oh. Oh crap. Izuku had never thought of that. Why on earth had he never thought of that? Why, in almost two years, had he never considered the legal implications of all that secrecy? Why hadn’t his father? “Are you going to press charges against him?”

“Not yet. We’re at least going to get in touch with him and hear him out before taking any further steps.” The detective gave him a genuinely reassuring smile. “But even if we did, there is no cause for concern. These bureaucratic hitches are usually settled with a small fine.”

“I-I see.” Izuku gulped. He wasn’t going to wait until May. He was going to call his father as soon as he was alone. This probably wasn’t going to snowball into a lengthy legal conundrum, but still…

“What’s his occupation? I’m reading ‘administrative assistant’ here, which is a bit generic…”

“I don’t know much about that. He works for the government, I think, and he always says that all his activities are classified, so I try not to pry... Too much…”

“That is very judicious of you. I wish you could teach some of that tact to my sister…” Tsukauchi sighed, only half-jokingly. All Might let out a low chuckle at that. “Does your father know that you’ve been so reserved about your quirk so far?”

“Yes.”

“And he didn’t find it odd in the slightest?”

“...No.” 

“Why do you think that is?” Izuku was suddenly very aware of both adults observing him quite intently. He really didn’t want to make things look any worse for his father. He could… slightly reframe the truth, maybe.

“I, uhm… Mine is a bit of a unique quirk. Difficult to use without, uh, stepping on other people’s toes. And I’ve been quirkless for most of my life, and… it’s no mystery that I envied other kids a lot because of that. I was worried that my schoolmates could be wary of me if they knew that I could… act on that envy now.”

Tsukauchi hummed, twirling his pen slowly between his fingers. “I can understand your concern. But quirk counselling is specifically designed to help children cope with such issues, and you’ve been missing out on it because of this extreme discretion. Your father should have realized he was doing you more harm than good by letting these fears fester in your mind.”

Izuku dropped his gaze on his father’s profile sheet. Detective Tsukauchi had a point, but… the matter was more complicated than that, as well as intricately intertwined with his father’s job and the troubled history of their quirk, and… Izuku didn’t want to delve into any of that at the moment. 

“We’ll definitely schedule some counselling sessions for you in the future, I’m sure you’ll find them beneficial.” Tsukauchi hesitated. “...Did something catch your attention?”

Something did, in fact. Izuku was idly skimming through the content of his father’s profile, and a couple of details were giving him pause. The first was, unsurprisingly, his father’s listed quirk. Fire Breathing.

...nor do I have it printed in bold letters in my personal documents…

Yeah, Izuku wasn’t going to bring that up. The other thing, a little more surprisingly, was his photo.

“Oh, it’s nothing, just… I haven’t seen any photos of my father in a long time.”

“You haven’t seen ‘any photos’ of him?” Tsukauchi cocked his head curiously.

“Yeah… I’ve never met him in person, he travels a lot because of his job and he never has enough time to stop by. I only know what he looks like because of an old photo my mother showed me. I haven’t seen it in years too, so…”

“Only a single photo, uh? And this picture here doesn’t strike you as familiar?”

Izuku observed it more closely... No, he was surely mistaken. “No no, there’s… there’s definitely a resemblance. Mine was a very old photo, taken before I was born. And it wasn’t even a photo of him specifically, he just happened to be in it, at an odd angle and in the middle of a crowd… I’m sure this one is more accurate.”

“Are you still in possession of that photo, by any chance?” All Might chimed in unexpectedly, his bright eyes narrowing slightly.

“Yes, I think so… Hang on, let me check.” Izuku fetched his phone, opened the internet browser… Crap, it really had been a long time since he’d looked at the thing. Back then, he’d saved the file his mother had passed him on a free online storage site that… hopefully still existed? He hadn’t used it in at least four years. Was his account still active? Could he even retrieve the credentials with his current email address? “Uh… Actually, I don’t think I can get it right away. But I printed a copy of it once, it should be at home… somewhere…” Stashed in one of those boxes of old notebooks and magazines on top of his wardrobe, right? Or had it been thrown away when they had moved to their current apartment…? He fiddled with his phone with growing discomfort, acutely aware of the utter unhelpfulness of his babbling.

“We’d certainly be grateful if you could retrieve that photo for us, when you have a minute.” All Might finally conceded, taking pity on Izuku's floundering.

“Sure! I’ll try to find it as soon as I get home.”

“Much obliged.” Tsukauchi flipped quickly through his folder. Izuku was about to ask why the mention of that photo had sparked their interest so much, when Tsukauchi put Hisashi's file back into the folder and closed it with a snap. “Well, I think we’ve covered everything. Again, you’ve been immensely valuable to us, Midoriya.”

Izuku let out a breath he hadn’t noticed he was holding. All Might positively beamed at him and flashed him a thumbs up, which was its own, heart-warming reward. They all stood up and made to leave, when Izuku remembered he owed the two men a proper thanks.

“Ah, I really appreciate that you used your influence to… to get the papers off my back. It was… unreasonable of me to ask, but I  really  appreciate you humoring my hope for discretion anyway. I hope that it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience.”

Tsukauchi and All Might traded a puzzled glance. 

“We did nothing of the sort, kid. What makes you-” All Might stopped, as if struck by a sudden thought. “Ah! You did mention it yesterday, didn’t you? That you were expecting your friend to expose your quirk…”

“Yes. I… I imagine Kacchan told the journalists, and you took care of, uh, correcting his version?”

“No, no, there was no need to.” All Might waved his hand dismissively. “Your friend didn’t mention you at all. He was on the verge of fainting when you rushed in, he’d been strenuously fighting back against the villain for a while by that time. He was too exhausted to notice your intervention, and you bolted immediately afterwards. He never realized you were there.”

Izuku’s jaw dropped half-way open, but he shut it immediately with an audible click. 

“...Ah.” Kacchan hadn’t realized. The bystanders hadn’t realized. The police hadn’t realized. All Might hadn’t really realized. That meant that no one, no one, would know about his quirk right now… if he hadn’t gone and spilled the beans about it himself. If he hadn’t dumped an unnecessary confession to the number one hero out of sheer, emotional anxiety.

...Boy, that next phone call was going to be one for the ages.

[wqxianwriting]

you & your crush. pt 2..

not proofread | gn!reader & crush (your bsf/friend is gn! too)

#%a/n%#;; OKAY FINALLY, took abt a month but its out LOL, pt 2 isnt really like a sequel to pt 1 its like pt 2 of me writing about the crush. again !! might not fit you and your crush bc its based of on mine but i hope its enjoyable. also sorry for the awkward spacing i wrote this on phone,, will edit when my computer isnt dead aka the keys will work again 😁😁💔

your bed creaks from the shifting of movement, your feet tapping the floor as you continue to bounce while staring at the wall. you’re bored. eyes traveling over the very familiar room a sigh leaves your mouth as you grab your phone and exit the room, hungry and boredom isn’t a great mix. your phone vibrates as you bounce to the kitchen, unlocking the device and clicking on the discord notification your friend asked what you’re doing.

mocha today at 3:46 PM

wyd?

y/n today at 3:47 PM

i’m making food. it’s a boring ass day, wyd? 😁

mocha today at 3:47 PM

oh, L imagine being bored.

wanna meet up? when you finish eating

you hum, swiftly opening the fridge to ponder, index finger tapping the top of the door in a random beat. do you wanna go outside? your eyes dancing to cover every food in the fridge — having all the food you’d enjoy but not knowing what sounds pleasing, tongue running over your bottom lip. maybe. your eyes go back to your phone finally thinking of a response,

y/n today at 3:49 PM

depends,, where we going? i kinda wanna go to the movies. is anything good playing?

awaiting for a reply you lock your phone and slide it in your pocket, hands going back to the fridge and grabbing some things. a cold water bottle, a case of fruit, and ingredients for a sandwich. your mind randomly starts thinking of your crush, you would invite them but knowing them and their weird behavior towards you they’d asked when but say no in the end. you sigh, opening a drawer with the silverware and take out a butter knife.

“i do wanna talk to them today at least… Hmm.” A slice in bread on one hand and the butter knife with the essence of your choice, you slide it over the bread. your nose getting a whiff of the bread makes your tummy rumble, you consider making a second one but decide against it. for some reason when you make two you end up getting full and not finishing the second one but when you make one you’d make another and be able to finish it like it was nothing. the human body makes no sense. are you human?

a snort exhales out of your body, shaking your head slightly before finishing the final touches of the yummy sandwich and putting the things away. you reach for a paper towel, ripping it and wiping the knife down before getting another and setting the knife on the clean one. trashing the used you exit the kitchen with your food and sit on the couch, placing the meal on the coffee table then grabbing the remote. your legs widen a bit on reflex, removing your phone from your pant pocket and unlocking it once more.

your friend had messaged you about 3 times but you ignored it for now, opening up messages and clicking on your crush’s contact. a small smile takes over your previous expression, typing in what you wanna say.

‘hey shawty bae 😍 i hope the world is treating you right on this boring day. how is my kitten?’

a quick laugh escapes your lips, shoulders shaking and a smirk taking over the smile. you’ve said dumb shit like this before to tease them but it never fails to make you laugh. you close the message window and open discord again, finally responding to your poor friend.

mocha today at 3:52 PM

i mean, i don’t know. i tried looking.

you got anything in mind?

actually why are you asking me? you figure out the movie, you want to go.

well, they got you there. but damn. rude.

y/n today at 4:01 PM

ok, bitch also sorry for late reply you know food is important than friends <3

mocha today at 4:01 PM

wow

y/n today at 4:02 PM

anywyas, 😁

we can just go to the theater and find something im too lazy to look at the internet aha. bad choice but you know 🥰🥰

mocha today at 4:02 PM

very bad choice but sure, what time you finishing?

y/n today at 4:02 PM

give me like 20-30 mins, am i picking you up or we meeting at the plaza? park?

mocha today at 4:03 PM

ok and we can meet at the park

y/n today at 4:03 PM

omg when they dont complain and finally come to the park… IT'S ABOUT DRIVE ⁉️ IT'S ABOUT POWER 🥶 WE STAY HUNGRY 👹🍗 WE DEVOUR 😈🗣💯‼ PUT IN THE WORK 😯💨🦾 PUT IN THE HOURS 😈🦾⌚ AND TAKE WHAT'S OURS 😫‼

mocha today at 4:03 PM

nvm, blocked. ignored. don’t text me again.

y/n today at 4:04 PM

LMAOOOOOOOO LOVE YOU TOO 😁😁

you lowly chuckle, closing discord and realizing you had a message. you click the notification and smile seeing your crush respond.

‘what?’ makes you laugh.

‘just answer the question shawty bae…’ you respond.

they text back quickly which surprises you but doesn’t, usually the two of you have a back and forth thing where if one responses 5 minutes later the other responses 5 minutes later, etc. your cheeks felt warm.

‘stop calling me that’

typing bubbles…

‘and i’m good, it is a boring day currently in a vc. hbu?’

‘im pretty good, planning to hang out with [bsf/friend name]. how’s the vc?’

‘it’s alright, they’re being weird’

‘also what are y’all going to do?’

your heart lowkey skipped a beat. the urge to invite them was banging in your head but you rolled your eyes at the thought. whatever.

‘movies, wanna come? 🥺’ you both used the emoji to tease eachother — sharing a love/hate relationship with the emoji and eachother. you’d only use that emoji with your other friends when they show like their pets or you’re asking them for something so it fit.

‘maybe. when?’ ah. yup.

‘like in, 20-30 mins’

they stopped responding for a bit, a minute turned into three but eventually sent a message.

‘what movie theater and what movie?’

asking so many questions, you sighed, wishing they’d say yes already. you wonder if they were doing this on purpose or seriously considering their options. either way it was ticking you off. you started munching on your food, sandwich tasting immaculate and the fruits going down with a nice taste. the tv was long forgotten too emerged in the texting and food.

‘closest theater goofy and we’re just gonna go there and look at what movies are there.’

you let out a sigh of relief, flopping the phone away from you and standing up to throw away the trash. putting the fruits back in the fridge and opening the cap of your water with a pop, the cold beverage going through your body makes you feel chills but you shake it off and go to your room to get your coat and your bag. making sure you have everything you need to slide the bag on your shoulder after putting on the coat and walk back to the living room.

your battery read 83% and you walked out of the house, locking it behind you and walking to the park. you went onto discord to tell your friend you were gonna be there soon, an alright sent back and opened your crush’s contact again.

‘sure’

a person of small words, make you angry but happy that they’d be coming along. took them long enough to reply a simple YES but you’re smitten so you let it slide. for now.

‘OK I’M GOING TO THE PARK RN.’

‘i think [bsf/friend name] is coming rn too’

the noise of your phone ringing surprises yo, waiting a few seconds then answering the phone. “hello?”

“yo wassup. you both are going right now?” the voice made you do a goofy ass motherfucking grin. simp.

“i just left the house, [bsf/friend name] just said alright. oh wait.” you notice another discord message saying they’re leaving in 5 minutes. “they’re coming in five. what’s up?”

“uhhh, nothing. i’m bringing [crush’s bsf name] too by the way. sorry for the inconvenience.” the last sentence was a mocking tone, you could tell they had a smirk on their face by hearing the small ‘ha’ come from the other line.

“yeah?” you say in a breathless tone. “we don’t allow plus ones, i can only be a sugar daddy/mommy/parent to two right now.” you sigh dramatically.

“aww boo~ i’ll send you cat picture,” their voice shifts to a higher one, “if you let this go, just this once. i’ll pay for him.” your eyes roll so hard and the way you coughed out a laugh, anyone would think you’re being dramatic.

“whatever. are you staying on the line or what?”

“are you trying to ditch me?” they feigned hurt.

“yeah.” you mutter jokingly, “i mean no. of course not shawty bae, i loves you till the ends of the earfs.” then you started to hum ‘my boo’ by usher (& alicia keys).

“shut up.” they breathed out a laugh, you heard some shuffling on the other line before they spoke up again. “guess what?”

you reached the park, sighing, “what?”

“chicken butt.” then the line disconnects. you let out a heavier sigh the disappointment taking over your body. what the fuck is wrong with them?

[yummyinmytwistedtummy]

Presentation jitters: An Idia Shroud stuffing story

This was a commission from a friend of mine, @trashytummiez, I'm sorry it took so long doll. I hope it's good! If anyone else wishes to commission me, they are always open!

Mr. Crewel snaps his whip once again and stops in the front of the classroom before turning gracefully on his heel to gaze upon his students.

“I hope all of you were paying attention to that description because I will not be repeating myself for lazy puppies.” His stern voice made several students sit up straighter in their chairs out of embarrassment.

“You will present these on Friday. This means you have 3 days to complete your projects and practice presenting them. Any puppy that isn’t ready on time will get an F.” A few students groaned and sank into their seats at the thought of such a close due date.

“Oh and one more thing, for those who have taken a liking to worming their way out of in class presentations,” he looked over at the floating magipad that seemed to sink a little upon being addressed. “You will be required to stand, in person, in front of this board, and speak directly to this class.”

A few students snickered at the audible gulp that came from the magipad due to the student behind the screen forgetting how high tech his headphones were.

Crewel turned back to his class and snapped the whip fiercely. “That is all. Class dismissed!” he called and all of the boys in the room slid their chairs back nearly in a perfect unison. Each eager to get back to their dorms and either start on their presentation or goof off foolishly with their friends.

The magipad rose above the turmoil of teenage boys crammed together in a small hallway. Swooping over the courtyard, the device swiftly made its way back to its owner in the dorm known as Ignihyde.

Deep in the dorm’s technologically advanced, yet still mysterious and creepy greek architecture, a room devoted to the dorm leader was occupied by quite possibly the most nervous person at school.

Idia Shroud.

The young mage was stuck, frozen in his seat, trembling slightly as his head filled with images of himself standing in front of an entire classroom, speaking aloud, suppressing the need to vomit from so many eyes trained on him.

Idia groaned and sank backwards into his gaming chair while his magipad slipped through the crack underneath the door and found its home on his desk.

“Why me…” he moaned and turned so he could pull his hood over his head. The most introverted student at school had only one wish and it was to be left alone by nearly everyone. Unfortunately the extroverts and sadists of the world seemed keen on making that impossible.

So much for “dreams do come true”.

Shroud sighed and sat up in his chair, glancing at the clock nervously, (like everything else he did), and saw that he still had a couple hours until you arrived. Quickly he shot you a text about the presentation so you were prepared that he might have to ignore you for a little while in order to finish and set to work on the project that filled him with so much dread.

You glance at your phone screen and smile. You have just a few more minutes to spare before you had to be at Idia’s.

Your boyfriend, Idia Shroud, was not what most people would look for in a partner. He was shy, anxious, overwhelmingly competitive, shut in otaku, who could barely look a girl in the eye without bursting into tears or flames.

But with hard work, a boatload of patience, and intensive exposure therapy, you had managed to get him relatively comfortable around you. The only thing left to work on was his confidence when it came to indulging your… interests.

You bit your lip and tried not to be so excited as you looked down at the several bags of food that you had compiled once you knew Idia was feeling a little anxious. You felt a little bit like this was taking advantage of him in the sense that you wanted this a bit more than you probably should. All your insecurities vanished as you reached his door and knocked gently before pushing your way inside.

The flame haired boy was seated at his desk, staring intently at his computer screen. A small pout had wormed its way onto his face and you giggled at the childish huff he made when something on the screen made him frustrated.

Instantly he looked up at you in surprise, likely not having noticed your entrance. He smiled shyly and tugged at one of his sleeves as you shut the door behind you and made your way over to his desk.

Setting the bags down on the bed, you leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. Idia turned bright red and laughed nervously as you watched him with a fond look.

“So I heard you’re having a hard time.” you spoke gently. He turned to you and frowned at the reminder of his impending doom.

Idia sighed and raised his hand to his mouth so he could reflexively chew on his hoodie sleeve. The mage had always found himself searching for relief from his anxiety in anything that had to do with his mouth.

Sometimes he bit his lips until they were raw, sometimes he chewed on the sleeves of his hoodie, sometimes he pursed and unpursed his lips repeatedly. But your personal favorite habit of his was when he stress ate.

Of all of the students in the school, Idia was one of the few that could be considered truly talented for how much they could pack away. His unnaturally heated stomach digested things far more efficiently than the average person. That and being inhuman made inhuman things far easier to achieve.

Every time you witnessed Idia’s belly swell to incredible sizes you couldn’t help but feel hot. Even more so when he forgot you were in the room, and let out crude belches to make room and then continue eating as if he wasn’t already ballooned beyond normal proportions.

You hoped today would be no different.

“Idia,” you said gently, causing him to look up at you. “Wanna let go of your sleeve for something that’s supposed to go in your mouth?” It was then that he noticed the bags beside you. Almost like a predator picking up on its prey, his eyes zeroed in and he licked his lips instinctively.

*GUuUUOooooRRRggLLEeeee*

Almost on cue, Idia’s stomach growled loudly. The blue haired mage hissed through his teeth and rubbed a hand over his stomach. You giggled and waved your boyfriend over, pleased when he complied.

As Idia arranged himself on the bed, you began to unpack all the food you had acquired for him.

You quickly pulled 2 large pizzas out of the first bag, 4 large pasta dinners came from the second along with a side of half a dozen rolls. The third bag had a footlong and 3 sides of fries. A fourth bag held a dozen brownies and a large blueberry pie. Lastly 2 triple litres of mountain doom emerged from a fifth bag.

In all honesty you may have overdone it with the food, almost always over eager to see how much Idia could really eat before he reached his limit. You assumed he would have no trouble with most of it but everybody had to stop at some point.

Idia got comfortable and finally looked over to the impressive spread of food that you had brought for him. Instantly his eyes widened and his jaw dropped in surprise and hunger, a single stream of drool ran down his chin which he wiped away quickly with a blush.

“Y-you got all of th-this for m-m-me?” You nodded and sat yourself next to him with a smile.

“I thought you would appreciate a selection to choose from.” you said smoothly, as if you hadn’t bought all of this with hopes that he would eat it all.

Shroud swallowed nervously and stared at the food as if daunted. “It’s ok if you don’t eat all of it Idia,” you frowned, “I just thought you might want some food. There’s no need to make yourself sick though.”

He smiled shyly at you. He always appreciated how sensitive you were to his signals. Understanding what he was too afraid to say was one of the things that had drawn him to you in the first place. It reminded him that you loved him whether or not he could fulfill your fantasies.

Not that he couldn’t of course.

With a hungry protest from his stomach, Idia leaned forward and grabbed a slice of pizza. You watched with rapt attention as he tore away nearly half the slice in one bite before chewing and swallowing quickly.

The young mage moaned at the taste and promptly shoved the rest of the slice in his mouth. Only with the first slice did Idia bother taking bites. For the rest of the pizza that he consumed he simply crammed the entire slice in his mouth and let his razor sharp teeth take care of the rest.

Each slice went down swiftly and easily leaving his stomach to burble excitedly at the prospect of more. You bit your lip and squirmed each time a large mass of masticated cheese, sauce, and dough was gulped down, creating a large round protrusion in Idia’s neck before sinking past his chest.

Soon all eight slices of the first pizza were gone. Usually Idia paused and checked on you to make sure he wasn’t grossing you out or anything (despite knowing full well that you enjoy this deeply), but instead he pulled the second box over and began to gorge himself on that pizza as well.

He must be either more hungry or more anxious then you had previously thought, you told yourself.

The pizza he was currently eating was your favorite so you snatched a slice for yourself to eat while he continued to plow through the rest of the box.

As he ate, you noticed that his hand had come to rest atop his stomach contentedly. His belly was becoming a bit distended and bubbled happily as it graciously received more food.

“Urrf… ooh that feels gooood…” Idia groaned and put both hands on his gut when he finished the second pizza. Your face warmed as he sighed after suppressing a low burp in his cheeks. “Excuse me.” You smiled and patted his stomach which sloshed a bit at the contact.

“Don’t worry about it, love. Just enjoy yourself.” He blushed lightly and looked away, making you giggle. In order to distract you from his embarrassment, Idia leaned forward and grabbed the pasta containers, pulling them towards him.

In only moments after opening the first container, all of the pasta had been slurped down leaving Idia to belch softly and sigh. He flushed and placed a hand over his face. You smiled and kissed his cheek which didn’t help his blush.

“It’s alright, let it out when you feel like it.” Idia looked away and slowly went back to eating. Soon he picked up his former pace and you stared eagerly as he swallowed the next three containers of pasta.

Placing the final empty container back on the bed, Idia groaned and held his stomach. You frowned and leaned forward to place a hand on the swollen belly.

It was now the size of a massive watermelon, hanging heavy in his lap. You could feel that he needed to release some pressure, but was suppressing it out of embarrassment. Sneakily you leaned over and gave him a peck on the lips which made his jaw drop, before pressing hard on his bloated tummy.

“HHHUUUUUUUUUUUUOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRP!!!!”

A loud groan emitted from the globe like mass and travelled up until Idia’s open jaws spread further to unleash a large belch. It was loud and clear, filling the air with the stench of italian dough and sauce.

Another shorter after burp came and left Idia huffing and sighing. “Gruuh… hah hah… UUURP! Haaah….” After being with him for some time now, you knew that Idia had a particularly sensitive stomach. Although it could handle massive amounts of food, even the tiniest bit of gas made him cramp up and groan in pain.

You patted his stomach gleefully and slid the bag with the footlong and fries over in hopes that he would eat them next.

Idia’s eyes widened again in excitement and he quickly grabbed the bag and pulled out the foot long. Before eating it he looked over at you curiously. Shifting, you blushed under his gaze and asked him what was wrong.

The blue haired mage then asked, “You like seeing me stuff myself?” You nodded eagerly. This wasn’t the first time he confirmed your kinks and it likely wouldn’t be the last. “Th-then do you wanna see me eat this sandwich in o-one b-b-bite…” His voice got smaller as he spoke and your cheeks got redder. A quick nod and he turned back to the sandwich.

Idia sighed in preparation and held the footlong up to his lips like he was going to kiss it. Then he opened his mouth very, VERY wide, and began to cram the sandwich into it.

Your own jaw dropped as Idia’s throat bulged and buckled to accommodate the sandwich. He continued to feed it into his mouth and you could hardly contain a moan when he finally closed his lips around the end of it and swallowed thickly.

His throat muscles squelched and constricted, eager to move the sandwich down into Idia’s equally eager gut. Soon the belly, still hidden by a hoodie, began to swell. It grew a few inches and you placed a hand on it in wonder.

Finally Idia gasped for air and moaned as he let his hands slide off his stomach, soon to be replaced by yours.

Earnestly, you slid your hands underneath his hoodie and began to rub your boyfriend's tummy, which gurgled contently. A smile slipped onto your lips and you watched as he flushed a dark red at the contact.

“Keep going.” you urged softly and Idia was quick to comply.

With your hands on his stomach Idia had no problems making his way through all of the fries, letting out a greasy burp here and there to make some room.

“Gruh! Salty. Can I get some-” before he could even finish you held up the soda. His gaze flicked back and forth between you and the bottle before you finally smiled sheepishly as he took the bottle.

You shifted in excitement as he unscrewed the cap and the familiar hiss of compressed air leaving a bottle hit your ears. Idia took a deep breath and tipped the bottle up, slugging mouthfuls of soda down by the second.

Sometimes you thought Idia’s throat was like a funnel with the way the soda never stopped lowering in level. Only moments after he started, the soda was below the label, a minute later, it was nearly empty.

Idia’s eyes were shut in concentration and his cheeks flushed with effort. You could hear his throat squelch everytime he gulped. You lay a hand on his stomach and practically swooned. With every swallow you felt it swell slightly beneath your fingers.

Finally, Idia pulled the bottle away from his lips and let it fall to the floor with a huff. He gasped and panted for air for several moments before he winced and his gut gurgled loudly.

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRLLLLLPH!!!!!”

An incredible belch erupted past his lips. The dishes left on the bed rattled from the force of it and when the long eructation ended, Idia slumped backwards with a loud moan. You were positive your face was redder than a tomato.

Your boyfriend sighed and slumped, allowing his tongue to hang out of his maw. His cheeks were also flushed.

Ignoring your hands continuing to caress his stomach, Idia leaned forward and avoided your eyes. His shyness whenever he burped in front of you was adorable, as long as he remembered to let loose.

You let your eyes wander over the taut flesh that peeked out from under Idia’s hoodie. As the young mage licked his lips at the sight of a dozen brownies, all soft, chewy, and chocolaty, you slid yourself so that you were sitting directly on top of his knees.

Staring intently at the way your boyfriend’s lips wrapped around brownie after brownie, teeth scissoring through them like nothing, your fingers wiggled their way underneath the fabric that now barely concealed the globelike gut that sat heavily in front of you.

Through a mouthful of brownie, Idia moaned as your fingertips skimmed along his sides. Tracing along the curve of his rounded belly, you smirked when Idia let his head fall back and mouth drop open in a long sigh.

Removing a single hand, you continued to massage his stomach, and sneakily you picked up a brownie and held it over Idia’s open maw. His eyes flashed eagerly, and without further prompting took the brownie from your hand with his teeth.

He chewed slower than he had when he started the meal, but you could tell he was only just starting to feel it. The ever present warmth and weight that came with a full stomach was leading him to lose pace, simply out of content.

You held another brownie out for him and pressed it gently against his lips when he didn’t open right away. Reluctantly, he sighed and spread his lips so you could press another bite inside. Finally after what seemed like forever, the brownies were gone and Idia hiccuped painfully.

“Ooohh… sooooo full…” Idia groaned and stifled a burp while cradling his gut. “UUUUUUrrrrp… gruh…. Fuck, it’s so tight. Urrgh… heavy…” He burped again, quieter this time and wetter.

The bed creaked as you shifted closer, nearly pressing your own stomach against his bloated one. Sympathetic, you delicately removed Idia’s hands and replaced them with your own. Soon his pain filled noises morphed into pleased moans and sighs.

A smile spread across your face at your boyfriend's happiness. Never looking away, you let your hands drop to his pants and unbuttoned them quickly before he could protest.

As the *zzzrriiip* of the zipper flying down on it’s own finished, a strange look came across Idia’s face before he let his jaw drop to release a massive belch.

“UUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRHHHHHHHHUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRLLLLLLLLLLP!!!!!”

A hellacious stench blasted through the air and made your eyes water when the fetid gas hit them. Loudly, Idia moaned and let his mouth hang open while he panted. A few more burps burst up his throat before he snapped his jaws shut and let them rumble deeply behind his lips.

Pink hues splashed Idia’s cheeks and he whimpered in embarrassment despite your obvious enjoyment of the crass display.

“Shhh. It’s alright Idia. You know I like it,” your hands pushed his sweater up and shirt to expose his large belly. “Let it out babe. I wanna hear you.” While you weren’t always so thirsty this week had been particularly taxing since you hadn’t been able to spend much time with your boyfriend. Now all you wanted to do was enjoy yourself with him.

But first he had to relax.

Gazing down at the expanse of inhumanly pale flesh, you gasped and allowed your hands to fly up and lay themselves against the yoga ball sized bloat Idia was sporting. Huge was the only word that came to mind as you trailed your sight over the belly.

While hidden underneath Idia’s trademark sweatshirt, it was hard to see just how massive he could get. However once removed it was very apparent that he had packed away an entirely large amount of food.

Your fingers kneaded into the soft flesh and above you Idia crooned with delight. A small smile slipped onto your lips and you massaged harder into the mound of gut. Starting on the sides you made sure to work in circles, alternating between large and small ones, as you caressed his stomach.

Your hands slipped underneath and you grasped the skin there and pressed further against him, biting your lip. Sliding a finger up, you traced his navel delicately, deliberately leaving space so you could tease him.

Idia’s eyes had shut in bliss minutes before, but fluttered open when he whined at your lack of attention to the sensitive spot resting atop his spherical gut. Finally you conceded and allowed your finger to slip inside the innie belly button drawing a long moan from your boyfriend. His hips bucked involuntarily and you watched in awe as the skin jiggled in response to the movement.

His cheeks puffed up and he held up a fist to muffle a thick belch. When it finished he hiccuped and sighed before glancing at you nervously.

“HHHHRRRRMMMMLLLPPPHH!”

You raised an eyebrow and grinned mischievously, making him gulp anxiously. Quickly you began to knead harder into the belly making Idia whimper and jerk.

“RRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRLLLL-BOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRLLLLPH!!!!”

Suddenly a shockingly large burp exploded out of the mage making your eyes snap upwards. The eructation started fairly good, with a long clear blast before it paused momentarily and raised in volume and power. It must have been satisfying because the moment it ended Idia moaned and bit his lip.

You pressed again and Idia hiccuped jerkily a few times before a couple sickly belches dribbled past his lips.

The mage groaned and whimpered, “I think it’s stuck… HIC-uurgh…” he said and you frowned. That was until a glorious idea entered your head as you realized he still had a bottle of soda to drink.

“Idia!” he glanced at you, “Here, this will help.” You held up the bottle for him and his eyes widened before he shook his head vigorously. “N-n-no that’ll only m-make it worse.”

“Please Idia, for me?” you gave your best puppy eyes and he sighed in defeat before holding up his hand for the bottle.

You squirmed excitedly as he took the soda and unscrewed the cap. He flung the piece of plastic somewhere else in the room and gave you a shy smile before upending the bottle.

One of your favorite things to do was watch Idia drink soda. Large golf ball sized bulges continuously rolled down his throat as he gulped down carbonated sugary sweetness even after being stuffed to his limit. A look of strain accompanied his flushed cheeks which had turned red from exertion.

Your hands felt the skin beneath them stretch even further to accommodate the added liquid. You moaned as you watched his gut visibly expand with each swallow and listened so you could hear the thick squelch of his throat and the splash of a waterfall of soda entering his bloated gut.

Quicker than you would have liked, Idia finished the bottle and let it drop and roll off the bed onto the floor. He groaned and placed his hands over his taut skin which was still stretching even after the mass of liquid had finished being consumed.

Idia wasn’t human, that much was obvious. But something that most people didn’t know was that his entire body ran ridiculously hot. He had once described it as having a fever 24/7. He was always hotter than the air around him. Particularly his organs.

It was secretly another one of your favorite things about him. Having a hot stomach meant that when he drank anything carbonated, the soda would fizz faster and fill his stomach with air making it bloat even after he finished drinking.

The blue haired teen panted and shifted uncomfortably and you took note of his displeasure. With a frown you resumed your rubbing and focused on finding tenser spots to press on. It wasn’t long before you discovered one.

More eagerly than you perhaps meant to, you pressed down firmly and a tonsil rattling belch rang through the room.

“BWWWWUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRPK!!!!!”

He sighed when it finished and you smirked when his cheeks flushed, however you knew that the main event had yet to come and continued searching his engorged gut for tight spots.

“BRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!!!!”

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRP!!!!”

“HHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRMMMMMMMMMMMLLLLLLLLLLPH!!!”

“BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOORRRRP!!!!!!!”

For several minutes Idia belched and burped uncontrollably as you pressed and kneaded into his upset tummy. Each eruption was long, loud, and ridiculously hot. You squirmed feeling warmer by the second.

The shallow belches were nice, but still lacked the heft that would relieve Idia of his tummy ache.

“HRRPK! Oooooooh… nooo it hurts. Why won’t it come out FuuUUUUUUURRRRK! Gruh…”

You scowled determinedly and leaned forwards making Idia blush. “What-what are you d-doing?” Quickly you wrapped both your arms around his midsection and squeezed as tightly as you could.

Idia’s eyes went wide and a nauseous green look came over his face as he raised a hand. For a moment you feared he would be sick, but then beneath you his entire stomach reverberated with an intense groan.

You could hear it rise in his throat and looked up in anticipation. Despite his best efforts, Idia’s hand was blown away by the single most intense, loudest, longest, most powerful belch you had ever had the pleasure of experiencing...

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU - HHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRLLLLLLP!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

...and it blasted you right in the face. If you could, you would have noticed how the bed shook in its wake, but all of your senses were completely dominated by the burp. Hot and sickly air blew your hair back and your eyes watered even after you shut them. Flecks of spittle landed on your face and beneath you, you could feel Idia’s stomach emptying of gas.

It was perfect. When it finally came to a close after a whopping 14 seconds Idia gasped and panted. You were still stunned when he fell backwards on the bed, taking you with him, the movement making his gut slosh with a loud ‘blooorsh’.

Drool slipped down his chin while his tongue hung out of his open maw. His face was flushed from exertion, making him look even more appealing.

When time caught up to you, the hearts in your eyes danced as you dove forwards to plant a sloppy kiss on your boyfriend's lips. He immediately embraced you back and tiredly smiled at you when you pulled back.

“I take it you enjoyed that one?” You nodded vigorously, making him chuckle.

“And I take it you are finally relaxed?” you asked hesitantly, hoping the answer would be yes.

“Well, I’m full of delicious food, holding my kinky girlfriend,” you glared teasingly, “and too tuckered out to feel embarrassed so, yeah I’d say I’m doing pretty good.”

“Good” you said before kissing him on the nose. Regardless of his earlier boldness he blushed with an eep and hid his head in your neck. A quiet “I love you” was mumbled into your skin and you smiled, “I love you too Idia.”

[nctsjiho]

JiHo vs Geo (NCT JiHo’s Duality)

Fan Video by ‘NeoVerse’ on Youtube

(indented text = comments added by the maker of the video, in this case NeoVerse) So we all know JiHo. One of NCT’s rappers and dancers. She’s always portrayed as cool, confident, intimidating, so for today, let me introduce you to Geo.

The cute, easily embarrassed 00 liner, whom everyone in NCT (and the fandom) has a soft spot for. Though whenever Geo comes out she’s usually getting teased by the boys...

^^ Let’s get started!

[JiHo Vlive ft. Taeyong & Taeil 190407]

“So we’ll be in America soon for the second leg of the Tour.” Taeyong said. “Are you excited?” JiHo asked looking at the oldest of the three. “Yes, we’ll finally get to see all our overseas fans. And we’re even going to see Johnny’s home-”The 3 of them looked off camera once loud noise started to fill the room. The voices obviously belonged to Dream. Taeil and Taeyong shrugged it off and Taeil continued to talk. The noise wasn’t too loud, but it was still a bit distracting non the less.

JiHo continued looking off camera every once in a while. It looked like she finally made eye contact with one of the young boys, because she squinted her eyes a bit more and suddenly the room became silent besides for Taeil talking. The girl gave the tinniest nod before looking back at the camera and joining the two other men in their conversation.

In the background you could hear a door close just after a few silent “sorry’s” were heard. 

JiHo: the NCT member who can make Dream, who never stop talking, shut up without even saying anything. The power this girl has

[‘NCT - RESONANCE Pt. 2’ Departure Ver. Jacket Behind the Scene]

Loud cheers filled the echo-y room as JiHo walked in. All the 23 boys were already in their spots, but the girl had walked in late (for an unknown reason). She hides her face in embarrassment as she approaches Renjun who was standing on the far right side of the bleacher-like structure. “JiHo needs to go up one level!” One of the staff members yelled.

JiHo gets up on the structure a hand helping her up, it was Johnny.  As she stands up completely she notices she is standing between Johnny and Sungchan. “Please tell my I’m not standing between these two giants.” She looks in the direction of the staff, face full of concern. Her comment causing almost everyone to laugh. “Why? Don’t you like standing between us?” Johnny teased poking at her side. She squints her eyes at the taller man, triggering a few more laughs out of him.

The director instructs the girl to stand between Ten and Shotaro on the other side of the structure and she quickly walks over to them, almost tripping on her way over, where Ten greets her with a big hug. “Ah so cute~” Mark cooed, looking at the embarrassed girl.

[NCT World 2.0 ep 4]

It’s really no secret that JiHo is a very athletic person. She works out and tries out new sports for fun. So even though she might not have the strength as her male colleagues (well most of them, sorry Kun), she was definitely one of, if not the most, agile members in the group.

When they announced the next game, JiHo’s team mates had look slightly worried. The vault was already at 1.70 m which was already taller than her, though JiHo would never openly admit that.

It’s only when the vault is at 2 m high that the members realise the smaller girl had cleared all the previous heights successfully. She’s now standing at a couple meters away to sprint towards the vault.

“We didn’t expect JiHo to make it this far.” Defconn commented. “She’s definitely an ace.” Kim Hwan, the other presenter, added.

We’re talking about the same JiHo right? This girl can literally carry her members on her back!

“Wow~ Look at noona’s face.” Jisung pointed out to his team mates, who unfortunately didn’t make it. The girl had her eyes set on the vault. Completely focused she put up her fist. “JiHo, challenge!” Her first few steps were big but slow, then her pace started picking up, until she had reached the vault.

“Ji-” The camera picks up the shocked faces of the boys as her team members jump to her aid. JiHo was laying on her back on the blue mat, the vault in pieces all around her, with one of the pieces almost making its way towards the girl’s face. Thankfully because of the concerned boys’ fast reflexes they helped avoid a big accident.

“Are you okay?” Johnny asked now that they were standing again. “I think I can make it though...” She furrowed her brow, shocking the boys with her comment. Despite all the boys’ protest JiHo was one again standing at the starting position to run towards the vault.

Taeyong stood up in a panic. “She isn’t going to try again right-” “JiHo, challenge!” And without a second of hesitation she ran towards the vault, 5 boys ready to save her in case she was to fail again. Once her feet hit the mat she looked at the camera with a smirk on her face and a fist in the air. She had cleared the vault.

“I swear to God her confidence is going to be the dead of me.” Taeyong let out a breath he didn���t know he was holding.

[NCT World 2.0 ep 2]

JiHo’s challenge was to do a rope skipping routine. Since she has been rope skipping for as long as she can remember, it wasn’t really that hard. The challenging part came from that she had to learn a specific routine and execute it perfectly within 10 minutes.

After 3 minutes she had the short routine down, some moves were slightly more difficult, but nothing she couldn’t do.

“JiHo, challenge!” She yelled out. She pulled of the routine effortlessly. Or that’s what she thought at least. Everyone had jumped to their feet, cheering JiHo on those who never saw JiHo rope skipping completely in awe at what she just pulled off. “Let’s go-” Mark had yelled, just before the lights turned red. “Mission failed.” The deep voice boomed over the speakers. Everyone stunned, they could’ve sworn she just did it right. But after review JiHo realised her mistake.

She stood closely to Jaemin’s seat who asked her if she got the routine down now. JiHo nodded while she absentmindedly swung around the jump rope. A particularly hard swing causing the rope to round her back and hit her left arm harshly. The loud sound of the rope hitting her skin was accompanied with a wince at the sting. Jaemin had jumped up asking if JiHo was okay. The girl had slapped her hand against her reddening skin before she started whining that it hurt.

Jaemin took the opportunity to baby her. “Aigoo~ You need to be more careful.” He said rubbing her arms, before pulling her into a hug. The boys who sat a bit further away had started laughing once they realised the girl was okay. “Jaemin-ah, they are laughing at my pain.” She pouted and the boy pulled her closer, glaring at the other members.

Yangyang... I saw you laughing at our baby girl... 

[NCT JiHo notices SASEANG at the Airport]

In the shaky fan video with not much context you could see NCT at the airport. The reason why they weren’t moving unknown. The only thing you could tell from the first half of the video was that NCT was standing in the middle of a clearing in the airport with tons of fans surrounding them.

Jeno and JiHo were standing next together, being filmed by the fan. She kept on glancing in a particular direction. At some point Jeno leaned in to whisper something in her ear and she shrugged in response, her body seemed a bit tense.

After another couple of seconds went by, JiHo suddenly starts moving in the direction of the fans - the same direction she kept glancing at. This caused the fans to start screaming and a body guard to quickly try and catch up with her.

It isn’t clear what’s being said, but JiHo exchanges some words with a male fan. She then puts her hand out, the fans around her going quiet. The man hands JiHo his unlocked phone and she starts scrolling through it. With a bitter look she hands the phone back, grabs her own, takes a picture of the man and then leaves. Once she reaches the boys again an indifferent expression remains on her face. Jeno’s hand massages the girl’s shoulder but she doesn’t seem to relax until they are able to leave the airport.

Apparently the male “fan” was a sasaeng and on his phone were pictures he had taken of JiHo and the rest of NCT (?) during their overseas schedules in places no fans were allowed. She deleted them and taken a picture of him for the security, possibly also for the authorities.

[NCT 127 fan event @ Capitol Records]

After everyone had gathered on stage, it was time for each member to introduce themselves. JiHo was last in line and when she started talking in her mic, it was clear that her mic did not work. The girl looked back at the staff, but they didn’t seem to notice directly, so she turned to her right and grabbed Doyoung’s mic. He didn’t let go of it, causing the girl to lean in towards Doyoung and start introducing herself. “Hi! I’m JiHo.” She giggled slightly embarrassed, which emitted a chorus of “awe’s” from the fans.

Later on in the interview, now with a working mic, the question “Who is the most attractive member of the group?” had been asked. Some members had answered already but the interviewer asked JiHo’s opinion. “Uhm...” She hummed as she looked over her members. “I think everyone is very attractive.” She gave as her final answer which left everyone a bit “disappointed”. A fan interjected, yelling, “We all know you think it’s Jungwoo!” JiHo’s face turned the brightest shade of red as she looked at the audience in shock. Everyone at the event had burst out laughing and JiHo sank back in her chair.

[NCT JIHO Choreography | More Than That (Lauren Jauregui)]

JiHo’s know as a bit of a tomboy. I mean she hangs out with dudes pretty much 24/7. So when she dropped this video, let me tell you, we NCTzens were shook.

As the music starts playing the lights slowly turn on. JiHo is sat in the middle of a dance practise room in a chair, head tilted slightly backwards, exposing her neck.

The camera comes closer and JiHo makes eye contact with it, her mouth is slightly agape and she stands up. She hits every beat, dancing in her own, cool style, nothing very girly or sexy, until a certain line comes up.

“I got a situation, I can tell you wanna know“

She brings her clasped hands up, stretching them out above her hand, before pushing her right hip out circling it from the front to the side. She lets her hands drop back down.

“How you can take an honest girl and turn her to a”

Her facial expression turns more cocky. Her left hand goes down the side of her body onto her left thigh while she moves down to an almost squat position. Her right hand comes up from her chest to her neck at the end of the line where the singer lets out a gasp.

Turn her to a WHAT? Explain Lim Jiho! Into a what exactly?!

Stan twitter of course went crazy at the sight of their tomboyish, innocent girl choreographing such a seductive dance. Besides those two lines, most of the dance was just her usual boyish hip-hop style. But the whole vibe of the song, along with her facial expressions had caused such beautiful chaos. Also JiHo in those sweatpants and a sports bra/crop top was something NCTzens weren’t ready for yet.

[Weekly Idol ep 410]

This is probably my favourite JiHo moment ever. For a bit of context. The people sitting down on pillows have to come forward for the members they want to be partnered with and show their charm. After everyone has “seduced” the sitting member, they must close their eyes and if their rose gets picked they are partnered up.

The reason I like this so much is because JiHo was already pouty since Doyoung and Yuta were both seducers as well so there was no chance of partnering with them, but she really wanted to team up with either of them.

After Mark danced to ‘Pick Me’ (and JiHo did everything in her power not to cringe, she failed), he turned around to see which members would come over. When he turned around he saw 4 faces. Those of Doyoung, Jaehyun, Yuta and JiHo. The last two he didn’t expect to come.

One by one they all had to explain why they picked Mark. “Dude, honestly I just don’t want to be picked last.” The girl said in English sending Mark into a fit of laughter. They than had to show show their charm through singing, dancing or acting cute. Once it was Doyoung’s turn, he started dancing to ‘Pick Me’, just like Mark did earlier. “Oppa! I wanted to do that.” She said annoyed to which Doyoung looked shocked. “You were going to dance to a girl group song?” She just rolled her eyes.

Once it was her turn the host had encouraged her to dance to ‘Pick Me’ like she initially planned. “If you do it better than Doyoung, you will have a better chance.” One of the boys had reasoned, that was enough for JiHo to stand up.

She patted down her sweater before getting “in the zone” and she started dancing and singing the song as if it was her own. Some of the boys started cringing at the unfamiliar sight of their female member acting girly and cute, willingly. Then the camera shows Yuta and Jungwoo who were clearly enjoying the show and Taeil smiling fondly as well.

omg this is peak Geo behaviour <3 How is she this cute? Is she really a member of a mostly male group?

Cut to JiHo getting rejected right after Doyoung gets rejected. They sit back next to Johnny, the girl’s head resting on Doyoung’s shoulder. “I guess dancing to that song wasn’t the way to go.” She sighed.

This time it’s Jungwoo’s time to choose a member. He danced to ‘Havana’ to which everyone joins in. Once seated it’s time to start the next round. When Jungwoo faced the group again everyone, including JiHo has come forward.

Johnny danced and Jaehyun and Doyoung sang for Jungwoo, then it’s the girl’s turn. “JiHo! Aegyo!” Haechan yelled and before she can say anything, Yuta agrees. She looks at Jungwoo with a sigh. “Oh it doesn’t look like JiHo really wants to team up with Jungwoo.” Doyoung teased. JiHo quickly dismissed his claim, poking his side which had him twitch.

“Oppa... I think we could make a really good team.” She said with her face rested in her hands. Than she points at her heart. “It would really hurt right here if you reject me.” At the end of her sentence she stands up and throws her rose away. Everyone is dying from laughter or second hand embarrassment. The girl takes a few deep breaths to calm down and she sits back down.

ngl even though that was very cringy, how is JiHo this good at aegyo? I’m sure Jaemin would love it...

They have to make eye contact with the Jungwoo now and once it’s JiHo’s turn she locks eyes with him with ease. Her eyes never faltering which intimidates Jungwoo a bit. “JiHo, you’re supposed to make a connection, not scare him away.” She swats Doyoung’s arm at his remark.

Guess what. Our poor girl was rejected once again

JiHo stands up with her cushion and walks back behind the line. “I danced for you!” She points at Mark. “I acted cute for you!” She points at Jungwoo. “And this is what I get?” The girl actually looks a little agitated which prompted in Jungwoo hugging her and apologising, but she pushes him away. “Whoever my partner is, he and I will end your team.” She threatened while raising her brow. But she only manages to look cute, because she still has a pout very evident on her lips. The tall boy cooed at her and patted her head before walking back to his chair.

Finally Taeyong takes his place on the seat. Once he turned around he could only see Jaehyun and Doyoung sitting back at the line, making a heart with their arms together. A look of despair washed over his face for a quick second before he realises JiHo wasn’t there anymore.

“Where’s JiHo?” He asked and the boys motioned him to turn around once again. When he does he finds JiHo holding her hands up in a heart above her head. “I’ve been rejected twice by those men there.” She points towards Jungwoo and Mark. “And now Doyoung has betrayed me as well. So please be my partner.” Her tone is slightly sad and Taeyong nods and pulls her into a hug.

My heart! :’( She wanted to be in a team with Doyoung from the start, how could he betray JiHo like that!

“Let’s win this!” JiHo yelled, a smile finally finding it’s way back on her face after she found a partner.

That was all for today’s video! Thank you so much for watching! 

---

Side Note: This post is inspired by a post by @nct-aria​. They’re an amazing NCT addition blog, which I definitely recommend you check out.