#the ones that only work with a specific brand of vibrators and not a normal o ring

[lamestdyke]

hit the pen too hard and now i’m looking at my two sub-par strap harnesses that i own and i’m trying to mentally figure out how to frankenstein them into a functional one. really chill and normal evening.

[nereidprinc3ss]

early seasons spencer and bau reader undercover at a club and it’s just like. he is so flustered but also weirdly confident and do with this what you will

in which spencer reid and BAU fem!reader have to pose as a couple at a club. she's more than a little flirty. the conversation actually gets quite suggestive. he's cute when he gets flustered.

warnings/tags: discussions of sex, reader wears a tight dress and makeup and heels, discussions of blushing but r's skin color is not implied to be light, i just needed a reason to talk about sex flush LOL, if u don't visibly blush this will still read fine

a/n: I LOVE EARLY SEASONS SPENCER X FLIRTY READER OH MY GODDD thank you for this request angel from heaven I hope you all like this as much as I do teehee

The bass buzzes through the floor and vibrates your teeth. House music has never really been your thing. Neither have tight dresses and high heels while on the job—but you’re willing to objectify yourself just a little if it will lure yet another loser who likes to chop up young couples into the awaiting arms of the American correctional system. 

Or to the wrong end of Emily's Glock. Whatever comes first.  

You scan the club—it’s not your usual scene, and you can only imagine how Dr. Reid is faring. As far as you can tell this is essentially his nightmare. It’s sensory overload central even for you. 

Your eyes catch on him at the bar, tucked away from the writhing crowd. He’s standing near the end, one arm resting on the surface while the other hand is jammed in his pocket. He seems completely unaware of the several women circling closer and closer. The whole earnest and dorky but still handsome thing seems to work well for him. Or, it would, if he had any interest in utilizing it. He’s dressed a little sharper than usual—no doubt styled by Morgan and Prentiss. Hell, the earnest dorkiness and the well fitted dark suit is working for you if nobody else. 

Sometimes he just looks… edible. 

And self-discipline doesn't always come naturally to you. 

“Doctor,” you purr in greeting, grazing the forearm propped up on the bar with white-tipped nails as you insert yourself in front of him. His fingers twitch under your light touch. 

Spencer doesn’t even try to hide the way his eyes sink down your frame, sticking to every highlighted curve like you’re dripping honey. Or maybe he just doesn’t realize that you can see that’s what he’s doing. 

“Hi. You look nice.”

“Aw,” you smile, dulling the salacious edge to your voice, “you didn’t have to say that. Someone’s improvising.”

“I meant it. That dress looks nice on you,” he says, simply, and you hate his specific brand of charm because it’s not intentional. It’s not something he puts on. It comes out of nowhere and always knocks you on your ass when it hits—even in the smallest doses. His eyes narrow and he leans closer. You can feel the energy rippling around him like a force field as he examines you. “You’re wearing more makeup than you normally do.”

“Do you like it? Penelope ordered the wrong shade of blush and gave it to me. Supposedly it’s meant to make me look like I just had an orgasm. I don’t know if I believe it.”

Much to your disappointment, Spencer leans back, scanning the crowd for your target and speaking as if he’s only half-interested. 

“That’s not what you would look like. Sex flush deepens the color of your entire face and chest, not just your cheeks.”

Your brows knit as you contend with unwelcome butterflies. 

“Buy me a drink before you start telling me what I’ll look like after I orgasm.”

That catches his attention, and his suddenly wide eyes snap to you. If he had a drink, he’d be choking on it. 

“I wasn’t—it was a general you, I’d never—that would be inappropriate. It was. It was inappropriate. Sorry. I’m sorry.”

You lean with your back to the bar, elbows propped on black granite, and swing your hair over your shoulder. Spencer’s eyes dart back down to your décolletage and then up to the ceiling like he regrets being born. You smile wickedly. Much better. This is the way God intended for you to interact with Spencer Reid. 

“I’ll consider forgiving you. And I don’t blush. Not when I orgasm, not ever.”

Admittedly, you just want to milk the whole talking about you orgasming thing to see how pink you can make him. It’s not often you’re gifted with an opportunity to be so candid about your sexuality or flirt this unabashedly. But you are supposed to be posing as a couple. Maybe you’re just feeling extra in character. 

Instead of stumbling over his words some more, Spencer smiles with a degree of bemusement like he’s caught you in a white lie. 

His smile is so nice. His teeth are perfect, and his lips—

“Yes you do.”

Always so convinced he’s right, this one. 

It’s annoying. And kind of hot. 

“Uh, I promise you I do not.”

“Everyone blushes. It's a sympathetic nervous system activation response wherein blood rushes to your face. Your blood vessels dilate when you get flustered or anxious. Your face gets hot and your undertone changes.”

You raise your brows. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was challenging you. 

“Yeah? Wanna bet?”

“Actually, no,” he mutters, losing any bravado and casting his eyes downward subserviently. “You have a habit of proving me wrong.”

“That’s right,” you gloat, smiling wide. Someone bumps into you, and you turn around, highly unprofessional insult locked and loaded—but it’s just a drunk girl who apologizes and stumbles off. The encounter does, however, remind you that you’re supposed to be finding a killer. “Do you think this is the best positioning? He might not be able to find us way over here.”

“You think we should move?”

You look back at him and nod, holding your hand out. He looks at it uncertainly. You waggle your fingers and infuse your words with sugar. 

“Oh, come on. I don’t want to lose you. And we’re supposed to look like a couple, remember?”

Gingerly he accepts your hand. His is bigger than you’d have thought. Not nearly as freezing as your own perpetually are. It occurs to you as you grab his hand that his bone structure really is bigger than yours. He’s… tall. He is, at the end of the day, a real life adult man. His presence is palpable behind you and you enjoy the weight of his hand in yours as you tug him through the crowd, perhaps not taking the most direct route through the throng just so you can savor being able to touch him like this for a little longer. 

Miraculously you spot an empty booth and slide into it. It’s a deep alcove, shadowy and secluded at the back. That’s where you settle, against black vinyl, and where you wave at Spencer to join you. 

He lingers at the edge of the table, glancing around at the groups of dancing and drinking young adults. 

“I don’t know. Can you even see the dance floor from back there?”

“Part of it. But I’m sure he’ll be looking in the booths for couples. He’ll come to us.”

Spencer faces you again and sighs ruefully, a begrudging smirk playing at his lips as he slides into the booth and joins you against the back wall. His side is warm against yours. He smells nice. Clean. Almost herbal, like patchouli or vetiver. 

“What? You really hate sitting next to me that much?”

Spencer’s lips part wryly before he speaks, like he almost thought better of it but decided to anyway. 

“I think you just wanted a reason to get me alone and secluded so you can finally accost me.”

Your knees bump. You lean into it. 

“Accost you? That seems harsh,” you pout, leaning toward him clandestinely to undo his top button.

“I don’t see how. You are literally trying to take my clothing off as we speak.”

“I’m just increasing your sex appeal. It’ll be good, trust me. Maybe you’ll even end up taking one of those girls from the bar home. Or—back to the hotel, I should say.”

Spencer covers your fussy hands with his own sweetly, like he can sense the true jealousy simmering underneath the sarcasm, and places them in your lap. The touch lingers.

“Are you always like this?” He murmurs, voice lower than you can recall ever hearing it and twisted into the shape of a smile. 

“Only with you, Dr. Reid. Speaking of, how about you? Do you flirt with many other FBI agents on official business?”

“Just the one. She’s kind of a full-time job.”

“Shut up. I’m basically your babysitter. If anything, I should be paid extra for dealing with you.”

“Attempting to seduce your charge seems like a bad business model. There are definitely some ethical issues there.”

His hands still rest on yours. You lace your fingers with his and speak sweetly, meeting his eyes best you can in the dark. 

“I wasn’t aware I was seducing you. Do you feel seduced?”

He’s the first to look away after a few seconds pass—pulls your hands apart gently, politely arranging them back on your lap. 

“I think you’re incorrigible and a terrible influence. In all honesty, you terrify me and more often than not I walk away from our interactions a little confused.”

You clap a hand to your heart, the bare skin revealed by your low cut dress warm under your fingers. 

“Spencer… that kind of turned me on.”

He just looks at you for a moment, a hint of a smile on his pretty face, long enough to make you feel a bit nervous. 

Then he’s leaning forward, and unconsciously so are you, almost forgetting to breath when you’re practically pressed against him in this booth and he’s whispering so low and sweet into your ear. 

“He’s watching us. Right across the floor, next to the girl in the blue dress. White button up and a leather jacket.” His hand slides over yours, fingers skimming your collarbone in the process as he interlocks your grasp once more. “Keep your hand right here and lean closer. We need to maintain his interest.”

“I don’t think I can lean any closer,” you breathe, hoping it doesn’t register as nervous as it really is. You’re supposed to be the confident one who teases him. “But if you want me to sit on your lap, just ask. I won’t say no.”

He chuckles, too loud to be amorous. It’s clearly genuine. It sounds like the way his reddened cheeks always look. It almost does more for you than the bedroom voice.

“You… you are beyond help. I don’t think you could be appropriate if your life depended on it.”

Slowly you pull back so you can look into his eyes—much closer than you normally have an excuse to. They dart wildly over your face, partially obscured by the dark which cuts shadows deep into the dramatic hollows of his bone structure. He really is so pretty. 

You glance toward the man, who’s pretending not to watch you. When you focus your attention back on Spencer, sliding your hand up the curve of his jaw, you find yourself making a dangerous wish. You find yourself wishing that you didn’t have an audience. That this wasn’t all for show. That neither of you had earpieces in.

His pulse hammers under your little finger, and his lips part slightly as he doesn’t have the wherewithal to not glance at yours. He’s so unaware of how obvious he’s being. It’s cute. 

You run the tips of your fingers through the hair in front of his ear, the one sans bluetooth, pushing it back, before leaning in close once more to whisper. 

“Good thing we’re not going for appropriate. Actually—your hands could stand to wander a little more, Dr. Reid. Let me know if you need me to tell you where to put them.”

[bereft-of-frogs]

friday update!

we are reaching the end of my vacation week which is both good (I miss my routine and my own apartment) and sad (I have to go back to work and no longer have all day just to write)

reading:

(finished) The Great Transition - Nick Fuller Goggins : Not quite as good as Station Eleven but...surprisingly decent for a book doing stuff I normally find annoying.

(in-progress) Kill Show: A True Crime Novel - Daniel Sweren-Becker : Look I LOVE trying to recreate found footage in literature. House of Leaves, S...I'm not sure this one is doing it for me. I wish there was something more than just the interview transcripts, which he has room for. Like at one point there have been quotes from a journalist and a professor, instead of doing the same interview block quote, he could have put in excerpts from articles/dissertations, we could have had more narration and description that way. It's just a little flat with it all being the same and also I'm not sure he has enough distinct character voices to justify it all exclusively being interview quotes. I feel like you need really good, unique character voices to exclusively do transcript quotes. And there are other issues I feel like he didn't think through, like I still don't really know how old the brother is supposed to be in relation to the main missing girl because it's not in the character intro and no one's mentioned it. But I'm not super far in, I'm going to stick with it to see if it gets better.

(in-progress) Jaw Bone - Monica Ojeda: Also only a little ways in, intriguing though, I like this one much better than Kill Show so far.

Lord of the Rings reread: I did fall a little bit behind by a couple chapters this week, but! We're onto the last book of Return of the King.

(phone book) Into the Dark - Claudia Gray: haven't had to read on my phone much this week since I've been on vacation, but the High Republic reread continues!

watching (tv):

*vibrates* Yellowjackets (Paramount+/Showtime): oh my GOD I have been wanting to watch this for years and I finally did, binged all two seasons this week. (Minus two episodes I have left to watch, so no season finale spoilers yet!) Yellowjackets. What is there to say? It's great, you all knew it was great, I was late to this party. There's like a venn diagram you could make between this show, NBC's Hannibal, and Black Spot/Zone Blanche but I can't articulate it yet. It's just got everything to appeal to me specifically: spooky forest settings, plane crashes, cannibalism, antler gods, murder, not one but two cults. It's great, extremely on brand for me, Shauna is my poor little meow meow, Melanie Lynskey should play more cannibals, murderers and warlords, she does it so well.

watching (film):

Pearl / X (2022) (double feature): Is it an unpopular opinion that I like X better? I'm also a bit late to this party but I feel like I remember people being like 'oh X is fine but Pearl is so good!' (Confirmed by looking at their comparative Letterboxd scores.) I just think X had a more interesting time period setting, better ensemble cast, better cinematography...which I think make sense given my understanding was X was the film they were originally making, and then they added on Pearl as an origin story project while they were working on X. It felt like more thought was put into X. Also, the 'Don't Fear the Reaper' scene was great. It seems like most of the reviews just comment on Mia Goth's performance as a highlight but like...it's just a lot of yelling and then a very long monologue and then the end credits. Idk, I think X just worked better as a whole, with the ensemble cast.

Bodies Bodies Bodies (2023): This movie was so funny, probably my favorite ending/explanation to a 'wow everyone went from no murder to yes murder really fast' film I've ever seen. I also just love Lee Pace. Lee Pace sabre-ing a bottle of champagne. That is all.

there is no video game update because I have no mobile video game consoles so they are all at my apartment and I am not there, and since I had to leave early Friday instead of my original plan (Sunday) I didn't get to do anything before I left

craft update: slow sweater progress, so close to linking up the armholes and no longer having to purl, so close...

writing to-do list update:

I didn't end up working a ton on oneshots or 'omens' because...

I did it! I got up through chapter 6 on the longfic tentatively titled 'the station'. that's about the halfway point in chapter count, and I've been doing a pretty good job keeping the lengths even and hovering around 5k so far. It's 33k words now so I expect the final word count to be around 65-70k? Thereabouts? Which will be my longest Star Wars fic by quite a lot, even counting adding up the two pieces of the dark ocean duology. But since I'm only at the halfway point, maybe I shouldn't get ahead of myself. It's so much. I love it. I'm terrified it's secretly bad. But it's probably fine haha, I'm actually feeling pretty good about the plot I'm using to string together a bunch of self-indulgent angst, which really, what is fanfiction if not finding a suitable plot to tie together self-indulgent scenes, angst or otherwise?

list for the upcoming week:

I still have to extract my dogsitting fee aka do all of my laundry

got a couple social events over the weekend

pack up and head back to the city sunday

I'm considering doing a probably ill-advised chaos rearranging of my room when I get home unless reason and logic kicks back in and stops me

go back to work (boo)

also clean whole apartment throughout the week because I have eclipse guests

eep somehow acquire eclipse glasses yikes I put this one off

keep chipping away chapter-by-chapter on this fic. I'm just getting to the action, which is both fun because a bunch of things are coming to a head and terrible because oh god writing action scenes is so hard

[clockpartsnearme]

Custom Clock Inserts

Quartz Clock Movements Open Your Vistas

Quartz clock movements are the modern-day electronic matching of conventional, mechanical control centers for timekeeping. However quartz clock movements (likewise referred to as clock electric motors) have no springs, weights, wheels, or gears to track time; instead, the quartz crystal generates a stream of pulses that are extremely fast and extremely steady, meaning that checking and subdividing the pulses provides an exact step of elapsed time. Let us see how these marvelous tools can open up a brand-new globe to you.

Non-quartz clock movements run mechanically, utilizing rotational force to turn a flywheel and a collection of equipments to determine specific time units (i.e., secs). Without regulation, the flywheel would certainly spin also quick, which is where pendulums and escapement systems can be found in. The pendulum is limited to turn one extent in half a second, and the gear network converts the oscillation right into secs, minute, and hours.

Modern electronic motors work identically-- at the very least to the onlooker-- although a completely different method is utilized to obtain the exact same outcomes. The first thing one requires to comprehend is that quartz crystals normally vibrate at their resonating regularities when a voltage decrease is related to them. Next, one must realize that the entire point of clocks is to track elapsed time (resetting every 12 or 24 hr), which whether this is done mechanically or electronically is a non-issue.

Nonetheless, the electronic strategy has lots of advantages that exceed just removing the bulk of flywheels, weights, and gears. Electronic motors in essence digitize the entire process, transforming what made use of to be performed in hardware into software program. This gives them a lot better adaptability and adaptability than their mechanical equivalents, and actually they can carry out essentially whatever functionality can be thought up due to the fact that shows has no hardware restraints.

As an example, suppose we intend to extend the resetting time, or the duration at which whatever wraps around to where it began? Twelve hours and twenty-four hours are prominent alternatives, but there's absolutely nothing preventing one from going a full week, and even a month!

Naturally, there's no factor implementing such time expansions if you couldn't reveal them, implying particularly adjusted dials and potentially an additional hand. For the once a week period, the days are printed in the center of the dial and the (short) extra hand leaps to the next day every 24 hr. In a similar way, for once-a-month durations, dates of the month are published along the dial's circumference and a lengthy hand ticks to the following once a day.

A neat option "clock" movement that you can obtain monitors tide level. The only actual distinction is going from a solar cycle to the lunar cycle, which is 24 hr and 50 mins. The motion has to be initialized and calibrated for neighborhood problems, but once this is done the tide degree will certainly always be accurate.

The tide-level motion (which can be combined with common timekeeping to display time and trend on one face), is a kind of lead-in to movements that depart from periodicity. Right here, the thing revealed is a weather phenomenon, such as moisture or temperature, and the single hand revolves between two extremes of a scale. Sensors are made use of to discover present worths, and the electric motor converts the value into hand position.

The astute viewers will certainly understand that we are no longer in the world of quartz movements, as there is no reason to track elapsed time. But the digital quartz innovation has freed up the imagination to assume in regards to software instead of hardware. clock parts

A fascinating by-product of all this is that there is a market for clocks and attributes of the past, such as grandfather clocks with oscillating pendulums. The digital movements can suit such needs via simulation, even though pendulums are no more working components; this is particularly valuable for clockmakers that want to bring back an old, non-functioning heirloom. Obviously, quartz clock movements open your panoramas.

[kharido-ev]

5 Best Budget Electric Scooters in India

The Indian roads are crowded with electric vehicles, and leading this revolution starts with the best electric scooters that spell a new transition for urban mobility. The requirement for sustainable and pocket-friendly transport is seeing an upward rise in sales of EVs, therefore manufacturing electric scooters is no longer a craze but a reality for commuting. From sleek designs to long battery lives, the top electric scooter in India embody the future. Whether you're battling with traffic or gliding through town, KharidoEV has wide options in e-scooters that offer the perfect blend of performance and style for your rides.

If you're looking to buy an e-scooter, it’s essential to have an eye on the top e-scooters in the Indian market, comparing battery life, performance, and overall specifications.

 Let's have a look.

1. Ola S1 Pro

Ola Electric has emerged as a prominent contender in the top electric scooter in India. and the Ola S1 Pro is one of the most considered when the consumer decides to buy an e-scooter. This e-scooter is famous for its aerodynamic and somewhat sci-fi-like-looking body, the tremendous power of the motor, and the range of the e-scooter. The Ola S1 Pro can go only up to 115 km/h and with a single charge goes for 181 km; the scooter seems to be built for those who seek both style and power.

The e-scooter rides have several options from Easy Mode up to Hyper Mode, for those who want to go faster. It comes with a 3 extended warranty which in this case offers an additional warranty for the product for three years. Km with a 97 kWh battery and normally will take roughly 6.5 hours to be fully charged up. The Ola S1 Pro also has a touchscreen dashboard, GPS, and Bluetooth integration, thus is equipped with smart features.

Want to know more about the pricing? Click https://www.kharidoev.com/scooter/ola-s1-pro 

2. Ather 450X Gen 3

The Ather 450X Gen 3 is one of the market’s top electric scooter in India with state-of-art technology and highly enduring efficacy. Ather Energy is amongst the leading pure-play electric scooter manufacturers in India and 450X is their flagship product. Propelled by a 3.7 kWh lithium-ion battery the vehicle can drive up to 146 Km subject to test cycle conditions, with a maximum speed of 80 Km/h.

Ather 450X comes with a large 7-inch full-color digital dashboard with information regarding speed, range, and navigation among others. It also has a Reverse mode, and such aspects as Over-The-Air updates to make your scooter dumber over time. Ather Grid of fast chargers also comes in handy for the owners of the bike who may need a quick boost of charge to their battery.

3. TVS iQube Electric ST

Another reputed Brand in the Indian two-wheeler industry is TVS, which has appropriately introduced the most reliable electric two-wheeler model named TVS iQube Electric ST among all these competitors 3. The scooter has a speed of up to a maximum of 82 km/h and a detachable battery capacity of up to 145 km which makes it ideal to use while going for work each morning.

Some of the features that accompany the iQube ST are a TFT touchscreen display which can be used for navigation, Bluetooth, and incoming call functions. Its quiet, vibration-free operation and the support of a large service network of the sponsoring company TVS, make this scooter very attractive for those consumers, who need only the best and are ready to pay for it.

It has a 4-stroke engine that enables the scooter, nowadays scooters are powered by a 4-stroke engine to produce power for movement. The lithium-ion battery of about 56 kWh and roughly, it takes approximately 4. And so it is important to know that it will take approximately 5 hours to fully charge the unit with a standard charger. The Indian style of the TVS iQube Electric ST in combination with a well-coordinated mechanism makes it one of the leading scooters now.

4. Bajaj Chetak Electric

The new e-scooter called Bajaj Chetak Electric is a tribute to its namesake who was a mega best-seller in India of the 1980s and the 1990s. In the present time, the new Chetak is reshaped in the form of an electric scooter giving the aesthetics of the old scooter but comes jam-packed with modern electric scooter technologies. A 3 kWh lithium-ion battery drives it; this gives the e-scooter a range of 90-95 km on a full tank.

However, Chetak Electric is not as powerful as some competitors in this segment with the lower low-end torque, but the scooter is built very solid, has a great fit and finish, and provides a comfortable ride. It has a sturdy steel build and it has an Eco and sporting riding option. This scooter also has foot-operated regenerative brakes to assist in recharging the battery during a slow-down process.

5. Hero Electric Optima CX

If you looking to buy e-scooter that is pocket-friendly, the Hero Electric Optima CX can be considered an ideal scooter in this segment. Optima CX is one of the cheapest electric scooters in India, and while it doesn’t boast of high-end performance, it is not a bad purchase. Its top speed is up to 45 km/h and its traveling distance is approximately 82 km on one single charge.

However, the Optima CX doesn’t have the luxury features or the high speed of high-end models but this electric scooter offers rides within the city and or for short distances with durability and efficiency. It is powered by a 1. electric motor with 53 kWh battery power and a charging time of about 4-5 hours to full power. This has been made possible by its large base of dealers and service centers throughout India which is an attractive feature to consumers in tier-two cities and other lower-income areas. Conclusion

Still confused about what and where to buy? Don’t worry we are here at your service. KharidoEV is growing to be the top electric scooter in India.

KharidoEV has a wide variety of e-scooters. We have 1000+ happy customers and more than 500 experience testimonials. Our experts will help you pick the best electric scooters in India that suit your pocket. We provide the best offers from time to time. 

We are sure, you can have the best ride with us. Have any doubts about buying an e-scooter? Contact us at https://www.kharidoev.com/contact-us. 

[peculiarxafternoon]

pile 1 pile 2 pile 3

𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙨 𝙖 𝙘𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙗𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙮

paid readings | ko-fi

hello, darlings. before we start anything, i would like to warn you that this reading is not going to be as detailed as my other ones. it will not have any sections, for one, and it will generally be more low energy (not in vibration just,, in effort? i guess?). for the past couple of months ive been struggling with my motivation, mood, and mental state, so i hope for this reading to act as a warm up of sorts, a way to dip my toes into this again and start over. thank you for your patience, and for the people who still like to listen to what i say, i appreciate you lots!

still, i like this question and this concept a lot, and i hope it resonates with you! it was definitely nice for me to do, anyway.

take a deep breath and focus on your ideal life as a celebrity. then, pick a pile intuitively.

! for entertainment purposes only!

! constructive criticism and feedback are welcome!

! decks used: rider waite tarot deck, mermaid tarot, astrological oracle cards!

pile 1

(cards: the sun, the empress, the lovers, nine of cups rx, two of cups rx, the hanged man rx, strength rx, three of pentacles rx, sagittarius)

before i even started shuffling i got major jisoo vibes for you all, and honestly that seems to be the case here. when i think about jisoo, class, femininity and elegance come into my mind, and with the empress and the lovers here, that seems to be the case for you too. you would definitely be extremely famous (like, to a concerning degree for your safety and privacy) since most of your cards are major arcana. i see you doing brand deals left and right for brands like dior, channel, and vivienne westwood, and being really popular for simply knowing how to sell a product, even as an affiliate.

something that's also really interesting is that you would probably get into a lot of dating scandals, or people would try to dig up secrets and end up making things up about you. it would get to the point where you wouldn't even be able to look at people for too long, because everyone would go crazy over a possible spark between you two. that would get you down tbh, like i just see you looking at the headlines with a frown, wondering how on earth people come up with these things.

still, i feel like a major part of your brand would be your ability to be happy on your own and your confidence. even your haters would be amazed at how you carry yourself, and how you manage to always look and feel good. even if that isn't how you would truly feel, you would surely come off as someone who has their shit together, who is determined to achieve whatever they want, and who knows that they can get whatever they set their mind to. it would be so inspiring to see you emerge victorious after being wronged again, especially since i sense you would have an underdog backstory. people would root for you, because they can see themselves and their struggles in you. and if you can achieve so much, then so can they, right?

i see you having a very clear goal in your mind, of where you want to get, but it would often get you to be more stubborn and grumpy than normal. while you would be known as a sunshine of sorts, it could get pretty exhausting for your team when all you can focus on is one specific deal, reward, or result. no matter how much you would achieve, you would have this need to go further, experience more things, create more art, get out there more. that, if you started in a music group or band of sorts, would make you step away quickly after you achieved fame. some would think it's for the best, others would think the opposite. i don't see it affecting you much, though, because you would realise that the support is much greater than the disdain, and that you work much better alone, anyway.

thank you for reading!

pile 2

(cards: the moon, nine of cups rx, seven of pentacles, the hierophant rx, seven of wands, strength rx, king of swords, queen of swords rx, mars)

this pile gives off a very introverted vibe – for a celebrity, at least. you guys may have gotten famous accidentally or under weird circumstances (like taehyung going to the audition to support his friend, or people being casted while walking down the street), so it would take a while for you to get used to the popularity, along with your new lifestyle. it wouldn't be too hectic, though , i don't see you being extremely famous, just enough for you to be recognised on the street but not stalked, you know?

still, it would often feel draining, especially if you surround yourself with others a lot for your job. it would physically tire you out, i see fatigue being a big issue you would have to deal with, and it honestly could show on your face, but you would keep it under control more often than not.

you would come off as very generous, probably doing charity work, volunteering, or raising awareness for special causes. you would also leave the impression of someone witty, who knows how to manage and advertise themselves. you and your team would make very smart moves that would make your popularity skyrocket, and you would play a big part of it too. if your job involves some sort of writing – whether that means you would be an author, lyricist, rapper or poet – you would be extremely well-known for your unique style and smart lyrics.

i also see you being extremely unique in the projects you take on, your style and execution would differ greatly from other people in your field. naturally, that would attract a lot of opposing opinions and impressions, but i don't think you'd care about what others would have to say. like, you got famous by chance, the best you can do is enjoy it while it lasts, right? if you're a woman, or someone who is more feminine in their ways, some people may find you aloof, cold and unapproachable, but they would just be intimidated by you (as people are when they see a successful, decisive woman, heaven forbid) so, again, nothing to really worry about. i also sense that you most likely don't conform to gender norms, anyway, and would ride your own wave, expressing yourself the way you want to and living your life to the fullest.

thank you for reading!

pile 3

(cards: the hermit, seven of pentacles, the lovers rx, two of cups, ace of cups rx, then of pentacles rx, six of pentacles, king of pentacles, jupiter)

you guys would be the type to get. shit. done. no matter your field or experience, you would see projects through and deliver your 110% while you're at it. I'm definitely getting some sort of perfectionism from you, though, like you would often feel dissatisfied with your work because, even if you gave all you had, there is still something you could have done better. it seems that it would be pretty well known, too, that tendency of yours, so people would want to work with you even more because you would never slack off.

you may also go on hiatuses often? like you would take big breaks to isolate yourself from everyone and everything and just,,, focus on bettering yourself? it reminds me of tyler from twenty one pilots, when he literally disappeared off the face of the earth for almost two years and then released a full length album with fully developed lore behind it. or taehyn from txt who admitted to locking himself in the recording booth until he gets some sort of progress. you get the vibe. while behaviours like that may seem a little extreme to some, i get the feeling that you would be completely self made, and kind of an underdog for the first years of your career, so it would make sense that you go to such lengths to achieve good results and somewhat satisfy your perfectionism and survival instincts.

i see you being a very comforting presence for your fans, and sharing your life advice with them. some may even fantasise about being your friend or dating you, because you would seem like such a great person to have around. i keep thinking of suga from bts, so it's likely that you would give off the same aura. also, very ambitious, you would be known as someone with a lot of potential and a bright future ahead of you.

you would also be very well known for your pr management and relationships with people within your field (or just other celebrities). i don't think that your love life specifically would be broadcasted, but people would be very invested in your friendships and the people you hang out with. you left a recording studio with a coworker late at night? headline. you hung out with a director and posted a story about it? headline. you laugh at a friend's joke while walking down the street? headline. you would just have some really good friendships, possibly with other famous people, and maybe some romantic relationships as well. still, people would be mostly supportive of them, since they know that you always prioritise your art and work, and since they want the best for you.

thank you for reading!

! do not copy or repost my work !

[1kook]

attachment: 1 image

— jjk x (f) reader

summary; But for Jungkook to initiate some sexting, nevertheless sexting at 1pm on a Saturday, when you were at work and you were almost positive he was supposed to be on stream right now? Unheard of, you had to mark this down somewhere. warnings; sexting, dick pics, dirty talk?, phone sex, vivid depictions of jungkook being just so sexy bc its true, rating; mature (18+) misc; mentions of youtuber kook 🥰, he’s just horny, stupid selfie trends (see here), he’s a little whiny but so hot v.v  wc; 4.6k 

notes; I've had this in my drafts since april 😐 n then i was like maybe we should actually finish this so i started n then last night i hit another follower milestone!!! so then i rlly forced myself to finish this bc i was so 🥺🖤👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 anyway enjoy lmk what u think its not proofread bc uhhhhh yeah 🤩

You’re at work when it happens.

It’s sometime between your usual listless thoughts of what to write for your weekly reflection papers for some course, and your trip to your store’s pharmacy to bother a coworker. Your phone vibrates in the pocket of your work apron. You’re normally pretty good at ignoring the sound, most of the times it’s just a classmate asking for help on homework or Jimin lamenting his love life, so you’ve grown used to ignoring the tiny vibrations, stocking a quarter shelf of different cooking oils before something in your brain tells you to check your phone.

You already know it’s not something grave, but that thought alone means nothing at the sight of the tiny jungkook♡ that appears at the very top of the list of notifications. Your boyfriend’s texts tended to be wildcards, never following a certain routine or alluding to any specifics. He could send you a long paragraph on how much he misses the scent of that one shampoo, the one you’d briefly run through last year because your usual brand was out of stock, with a ten point explanation on why you should switch back to it. Or two word, caveman sentences that drove you crazy because you never understood what exactly he wanted when he’d send those nondescript “munchies dip” texts.

You unlock your phone, clicking to the messenger app instead of directly on the notification. Hopefully the preview will give some warning on whether you should invest in this conversation or not. You hated the read receipts on messages, choosing to ghost conversations as you pleased, but Jungkook had wiggled his way into your phone one afternoon and specifically turned them on for his chat with you, and you’d never turned them off since. So he knows if you choose to ignore Attachment: 1 Image at 1:43pm exactly, and he'll pester you about it until you respond.

You contemplate it all for twenty seconds. It could be a variety of things, you guess, but the only way to find out is to actually see with your own eyes what he’s up to this time. He knows better than to distract you at work, is usually really good at waiting until your shift is over to spam you with messages. For him to send you something now, only a few hours into your shift, is uncharacteristic of him.

But you glance down the aisle anyway, taking note of some elderly woman you’d helped a few minutes prior and another teenager aimlessly walking around, probably looking for the snack aisle. You inhale and press down on your chat with Jungkook.

It takes you a moment to make out exactly what the image is, twisting and turning your phone around as you fight to see it without raising the brightness. It’s only when your eyes finally adjust to the dark screen, the faint beeping of the check-out registers fading into the distance, that you realize it’s a shot of the front of his sweatpants.

“Hm?” you murmur, getting brave enough to pinch the image between two fingers, zooming in until you’re able to decipher a multitude of details. For one, there’s a Flaming Hot Cheeto stain on the hem of his sweatpants, the same one you’d accidentally put on there a few weeks back and haven’t been able to wash out since. Then there’s that huge palm of his, tattoos and all, rested carefully against his thigh. It’s veiny and thick in all the right places, bringing all the attention to his knuckles, which you guess is what he was going for when you consider the centerpiece of the image—his hardened dick straining against the grey material.

There’s no text attached to the message, no snapchat font slapped over the image, so you wonder what exactly he wanted you to do with this information mid-shift. Well, realistically, you know exactly what he wants, but that doesn’t mean you won’t clown him before getting there. After all, Jungkook was seldom the naughty texter; sexting annoyed him, he would whine, because he would do all that and not even get to feel the true pleasure of sex, of being inside you. You’ve dabbled in it here and there, but it never went as perfectly as it did in pornos. He’d drop his phone and forget it, or you would straight up ignore the damn device as you went all in on yourself.

But for Jungkook to initiate some sexting, nevertheless sexting at 1pm on a Saturday, when you were at work and you were almost positive he was supposed to be on stream right now? Unheard of, you had to mark this down somewhere.

you what’s this about?

You decide to play it safe, because as exciting as the image of Jungkook at his computer chair, cock hard and angry at the thought of you, fluffy hair ruffled in that way you adored, jaw twitching and tightening as he touched himself, moaned deep and rough and just how you liked and—

As nice as that image was, for all you knew this vague message was Jungkook sending you a picture from a week ago to purposefully fuck with you at work.

jungkook♡ what time u get off? jungkook♡ miss you bad baby

Your stomach flips, and it takes everything in you to not squeal and bounce between the shelves like a toddler on a sugar rush. Here was your boyfriend, the cutest, sweetest boy, sending you dirty pictures of himself and telling you how much he needed you. Yes, YOU, not some random on the street, or someone else in a club, Jungkook needed pleasure and that pleasure could only come from you.

You glance back down the aisle again, checking your surroundings for the second time that day. You’ve been standing here, stock cart empty for a little over five minutes now, so it’s probably best to change location lest your manager come barking down your neck. You send one quick text before heading off for stock again.

you 4pm :(

Your phone dings again just as you’re leaving the stockroom, but you decide to check it once you get to the hygiene aisle you need to work on next. Still, the prospect of Jungkook having texted you has you walking with a skip in your step, one your coworker teases you about when you pass by her.

jungkook♡ fuck jungkook♡ tell me what panties youre wearing jungkook♡ please ?

You bite your lip, stopping yourself from smiling at the tone you’d picked up from his message. There was no doubt he’d been riled up for a while now, and you wonder if he sat through his usual Saturday morning streams with his cock hard, pushed against the edge of his desk like you knew he did when such things happened. The thought has you nearly fumbling with a bottle of aloe vera.

you seamless black thong you the one you bought me at the last vs sale

Briefly, you wonder if you should have lied and told him you were wearing that red lace set he’d given you last Valentine’s Day, the one he’d bought with his first big YouTube check. But the beauty of being in a relationship with someone like Jungkook is that you could have told him you were wearing grandma undies and he’d still think you were the most beautiful person to grace the planet.

jungkook♡ mm jungkook♡ tiny ones u ruined last time?

You set your phone down, speed stock a row of sunscreen like you’re on some shelf stocking national competition, before daring to text Jungkook again. Your cheeks are still warm, and your hand tightens dangerously around a bottle of shaving cream.

Before you can formulate some response, he’s sending another one in.

jungkook♡ u soaked those jungkook♡ came fast that day jungkook♡ want u so bad

Your cheeks burn, a little embarrassed that he remembers such details. As with all Victoria’s Secret panties, they were, like Jungkook said, extremely thin. You pause, shift your stance just barely, but you’re definitely wet. Not terribly so, but with this fabric, you’d start to notice it sooner than with others.

you mm you makin me wet bunny

It’s not a complete lie, but knowing Jungkook this is exactly what he needs to hear to get that competitive streak going. You shake your head to clear your thoughts, stocking another section of men’s shaving cream. It takes longer for him to message you back, and you wonder if he got off fine on his own. If it’s over now, at least he provided you with some distraction midway into your shift.

When he texts you again, you’ve almost completely convinced yourself he’s finished, so the Attachment: 1 Video that appears on your lock screen throws you for a loop.

It’s a short clip, no longer than ten seconds, but it has you scrambling to lower the volume on your device as some unsuspecting mother of two wanders past. You flash her your practiced smile, the same one you give all the store’s customers. Not like your boyfriend is jacking it off on your phone, shallow pants filtering out from the speakers.

You turn your phone over carefully after she leaves, try to at least pretend you’re still doing your job as you play the video again.

Sweats are gone, but boxers remain. Legs deliciously exposed, thick thighs with muscles that ripple when he moves. Shirt pulled up just slightly to showcase that broad expanse of tummy, cute belly button and defined abs that tighten with each glide of his palm over the outline of his cock. Your mouth fills with drool at the sight. He was so hot.

Your brain hasn’t even processed it yet, all your energy directed towards your clenched pussy, when he shoots another text.

jungkook♡ im so fckin hard jungkook♡ wanna kiss yuo every where baby jungkook♡ come ove r soon ??

Shutting your eyes and counting to ten doesn’t help ward off the sudden wave of horniness that consumes you, but it does remind you of the job you’re supposed to be doing now. You shake your head, as if the image of Jungkook’s dick throbbing beneath his boxers, low voice in your ear, will magically disappear. It doesn’t, and it plagues you even more when you begin stocking a section of sunscreen, numbly instructing yourself on what to do next. Shaving cream, sunscreen, lotion next, you repeat.

It doesn’t help.

Two minutes later and you’re scrambling for the phone you’d hastily tucked into your apron pocket, tapping your passcode in until your messages with Jungkook are pulled up again.

you after work you promise

Your head is absolutely spinning, the coil in your stomach too tight for you to try and be a functioning member of society. Something in you says to sneak off to the bathroom and call him, but your boss is a little bit of a prick when he wants to be, thinks you take too many bathroom breaks as is.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. A curt call of your name has you whirling to face your shelves again, phone tightly pressed against your ribs like maybe it’ll melt into your skin and he won’t see it. At the same time, your sudden fright has you scrambling to turn it off, fingers sloppily pressing against the buttons, hitting the volume like seven times before you eventually feel the familiar click that signals it’s off.

Your boss disappears shortly after, and with his sudden appearance having made every hair on your body stand, you find yourself now slumping against your stock cart. Jesus, that man was a handful to deal with.

The paranoia sticks for a little bit, has you stocking shelf after shelf like a robot until you finish the entire row of hygiene products, back stiff from bending over so much. It’s only when you return to the stockroom ten minutes later that you dare take your phone out again.

A pleasant surprise awaits.

It would appear that during your haste to hide your phone from your boss— Jungkook’s scandalous messages and all —your frantic hands had done something else. A fuzzy picture on your end, a blurry display of lotion bottles you had stacked just before your boss’s impromptu appearance, with no words to accompany them. Normally Jungkook would have ignored that; you frequently sent accidental messages like this, butt texted him, he says.

But there’s something about Jungkook’s horny brain that makes him do stupid things, makes him blow up your phone with a series of question marks, call you four times, whine and fuss in your message thread, and eventually, send you probably the oddest image to date.

jungkook♡ ??? jungkook♡ ????what is that jungkook♡ baby please jungkook♡ I don’t get it ??

jungkook♡ Missed Call (4)

jungkook♡ baby jungkook♡ what does it mean jungkook♡ please ur drivign me insane jungkook♡ jsut wanna hear yuor voice jungkook♡ fuck please just

And then, there’s another one of those cursed Attachment: 1 Image messages.

You shouldn’t be as surprised as you are. You’ve been dating Jungkook for a few months now, know he had that sort of unique personality most college dropouts turned YouTubers do. But every now and then the absurdity of his actions makes you question him still, makes you wonder what exactly goes on in that pretty head of his to warrant such ideas, makes him balance a bottle of body lotion on the thick outline of his cock like this.

Unlike the first few images, this one was taken in front of a mirror. The blinding fluorescent light in his bathroom paints him in a stark color, has every inch of his pretty face on display for you. Rosy cheeks, dewy skin. Perfectly swollen cock straining beneath his grey boxers, curved up against his hip. Shirt pulled up, finally freeing that expanse of muscles on his abdomen, cute little belly button on display once again. The red material is pulled up to his mouth, pearly white teeth biting down on the fabric, and he’s got this flushed expression on his face.

But the real star of the show isn’t his chiseled abdomen or sexy expression, but the sheer hardness of his dick that lets him balance a bottle of body lotion over it, like a fuckin’ shelf or something. He’s so hard, dick so full beneath his boxers. So big too, the little boxers pulled taught around said engorged cock and thick thighs.

Your brain says to laugh, to tease him for being such a clown even when he’s horny as hell. He won’t take it to heart, will probably laugh along with you and you’ll add it to your still growing list of funny memories.

But your caveman libido says call him, so that’s what you do, ducking down behind a new shipment pallet with a squeak as the phone rings. It only lasts four seconds before he picks up, voice breathy and low, but it sounds so loud in the silence of the stockroom.

He doesn’t even let you get a greeting in. “You like my picture, baby?” he husks. It sounds like he’s right there, right beside you, speaking into your ear. Your pussy throbs at the way he sounds. Paired with the picture from before, it has your body tingling all over.

“What the fuck is that?” you hiss, trying to not let the sudden overflow of arousal leak into your words. Jungkook chuckles.

“What?” he huffs. There’s the brief sound of shuffling, the scratchy noise of his phone presumably being pressed against his shoulder. “I’m so hard, baby,” he sighs before you can pretend to reprimand him any further. “Fuck— you, can you just talk to me?” he groans, and the disgusting sound of him spitting into his palm fills your ear.

Your face feels warm, eyes nervously peering across the stockroom like your boss will suddenly appear now of all times to rip you from this important phone call. The anxiety and arousal mix weirdly, have your leg bouncing but every new movement sends a shock up your aching cunt to your chest, and then out to the tips of your fingers.

“You shouldn’t be doing that when I’m at work,” you murmur hurriedly, moving to nervously bite at your finger. Jungkook moans softly.

“Uh huh,” he says.

The air conditioning turns on and you nearly jump out of your own skin. “Kook,” you stress, frazzled by your own burning arousal and the fear of being caught. Like you said. Weird mix. “I— not when I can’t respond.”

He shudders on the line. “You’re responding now,” he points out. You hate when he’s right. Before you can defend yourself, define what a proper response is in this scenario, he’s beating you to the punch. “Baby,” he whimpers, voice so airy yet low, makes your eyes roll into the back of your head, back unconsciously arching. “Couldn’t stop— fuck.”

Your mouth feels dry, all and any form of lecturing fading from your thoughts as you become consumed in Jungkook’s little whines and whimpers. He talks smoothly, a modern day Casanova, and it’s certainly because of that cult-like harem he’s gathered on YouTube. Teenage girls who kiss his ass, tell him he’s cute and dreamy. Make his ego so big.

But then he gets horny and can barely contain that lisp you tease him about, shivers and melts when you put his cock in your mouth. “Couldn't what, bunny?” you mumble, voice drawn tight because now you were really horny, and it was all his fault.

The nickname makes him mewl prettily, your speaker suddenly going scratchy as he fumbles with his phone. “C- Couldn't stop thinking about you— your mouth,” he admits, and now you’re certain he’d sat through that Saturday morning stream like this. “T- Tits,” he adds, lisp slipping through. “Fuck.”

You bite your lip, eyes fluttering shut as you remind yourself now was not the time or place to get yourself off. But, well. That didn’t mean you couldn’t get him off. “Sat through your stream like this?” you murmur, circling your kneecap with a trembling finger as if it’ll ward away the raging lust in your abdomen. Jungkook confirms with a breathy moan. “Had all your little fans wondering why you ended so early.”

He groans. “No,” he chokes, voice hot from how much it wavers. “They— I lied,” he confesses out of nowhere, “s- said I had a doctor’s appointment.”

You muffle a giggle into your palm. “Naughty,” you tease. “Too hard to do your job.”

“Just,” he cuts off, voice feathery. He sounds so close and you haven’t even said anything of substantial value yet. “Tell me,” he says quietly, “what to— mmh, what to do.”

A smirk consumes your features. You try to hide it, but there’s no one here anyway so you’re left grinning at an unpacked box of dental floss like a madwoman. “Why?” you inquire playfully, bask in the sad little whimper he responds with. “Shouldn’t you know how to make yourself cum?”

Another groan of frustration, desperation seeping into his tone when he speaks again. “Baby, please,” he begs, and it feels good. Feels nice to have this big YouTuber begging for you like this, whimpering your name like his doesn’t appear on the top 25 most viewed. “Like when you— ah — when you tell me… what to do.”

Your body feels hot, thighs pressing together with each whimper that falls from his lips. “Okay,” you concede, and he audibly moans in relief. “Tip first,” you instruct softly, eyes defocusing as your brain slowly starts to manifest the image of Jungkook spread out on his bed. Thick thighs, grey boxers pulled taught around them, fat cock between his pretty hands, inked knuckles squeezing around his member. You swallow. You can tell exactly when Jungkook does as you say because another muffled moan fills the speaker. “One finger,” you remind him quickly, head spinning from the mere memory of his dick. “Run it… run it over the slit, bunny.”

“Nngh—“ Jungkook sputters. You can only imagine the face he’s making now, the bottom lip he’s bitten raw by now. He does it a lot; it’s a nervous habit. But as sexy as it looks when you’re in bed, you know he has sensitive lips because of it, bleeds easily if he’s too harsh. You have half the mind to remind him about it now, but then he’s hurriedly gasping out for more. “And, and then? Wha— what then, baby?”

He sounds so sweet, melodic voice dripping with honey. “Touch your balls,” you say a little breathlessly. “Don’t squeeze,” you add, “just roll your palm over them.” Your palm squeezes against your thigh, as if it’s remembering the feel of his body, the soft skin between his thighs when you’re down there. He gets so jittery, thick thighs nearly crushing you if you drag him along too much. “O- Other hand on your cock,” you stumble, thighs squeezed together. “Stroke yourself just like I do, bunny.”

Jungkook complies. “Just like you?” he mumbles, suddenly sounds farther away. As if he’s dropped his phone off to the side. “Fffuck,” he grunts, “m- mouth is so pretty.”

“Hm?” you inquire, so consumed with tampering down your growing arousal for a second that you miss his sentence.

Jungkook’s breath stutters, and for a moment you’re met with the wet squelch of his cock in his hand. And then, “pretty mouth… make me— make me wanna see you cry.”

You bite your lip. “Why,” you say tentatively, finally caving in with a hand fluttering over the front seam of your jeans. Not a question, more of a gentle nudge for him to spill his thoughts.

“Be- Because,” he cries, fucking into his hand. He sounds closer and closer. You have to wonder just how long he had been riled up. It’s been a while since his first message, he was probably desperate by now. “Y- You’re so nice,” he cries, and the sentiment, though oddly out of place, makes your heart squeeze with adoration for the boy on the line. “Wanna be,” he groans, “wanna be so fucking mean to you, baby.”

The sudden change of tone makes you choke on a moan, hand pressing against your mound like it’ll somehow penetrate the thick material of your jeans and give you the sensations you crave. As it stands, it’s a muted feeling you get instead. When your hands fail, his voice compensates. “Fffuck, don’t you— don’t you think about it too?”

Admittedly, no.

Jungkook had always been a gentleman in bed. Always cared for your needs before his own, went out of his way to make you feel pampered and adored during your most vulnerable moments. Contrary to what his online persona might say, he was a good boy. Sweetest boy you knew, touched you like you were made of glass.

So to suddenly learn of this dream— fantasy? kink? —of his that you would certainly enjoy equally as much, well. It made you whimper into your palm, eyes worriedly flickering toward the stockroom’s entrance.

“Why?” you whisper, feeling like a broken doll repeating the same phrase over and over again. You’re suddenly aware of how hot everything was. Your polo felt sticky against your spine, apron too tight, jeans too stuffy. How long had you been hiding in here for? You don’t even know. Hopefully your absence on the floor had gone unnoticed.

Jungkook pants into the line; everything sounds so sticky and wet on his end, hand undoubtedly working away at his cock. “Shit,” he curses, doesn’t really answer your question until you prod a second time. “I- I like it,” he stammers. “When you… fuck, when you look small.” He elaborates before you can even ask, breath heavy and drawn out. He was so close. “When your mouth… when it hurts,” he says, thoughts a scrambled mess. “Like when you— when you cry because my cock is— it’s too big for you.”

A blatant ego boost you’ll ignore for now. Not like you can focus on too many things right now anyway. “Your cock is big, bunny,” you agree softly instead. Your legs feel cramped from crouching so long, so you push yourself to your feet. Except then you’re made aware of how fucking wet you are, panties soaked from the phone call with your boyfriend. You shift and they stick to your folds, make you release a shaky exhale that Jungkook doesn’t miss.

“I— you’re wet,” he says boldly, and this time your meek confirmation isn’t a lie. Jungkook grunts. “Fuck, baby, I—“ cut off by his own whiny cry, probably bucking into his hand like a madman by now. “Wanna, wanna kiss you everywhere,” he says, a call back to his earlier message. Your legs feel like jello. You want him to kiss you everywhere too— lips, tits, cunt that is dripping for him now.

“I- I’ll be over soon,” you stammer, feeling like you’ll pass out if he carries on any further. He sounds so good on the line, soft pants, rough growls. You can’t possibly listen anymore, not when you’re so wet and horny in the middle of your shift. “Just,” you pause, can’t get the image of his pretty cock out of your mind. Every blink makes it more vivid, reminds you of the vein on the underside, the exact shade of the tip.

“What?” Jungkook hisses, voice higher than usual, parts of it lost under the rapid movements of his hand. “Tell me, baby, tell me what to do,” he begs hoarsely, “I’ll do it.” Sounds so desperate and needy, two seconds away from busting all over his hand.

You have to lean against the wall of the stockroom to ground yourself, remind yourself you’re not in the same situation as Jungkook and can’t cum in your pants like a teenager. “J- Just cum,” you choke, eyes fluttering shut.

He must’ve been waiting for that command, because the second the words leave your throat he’s filling the line with breathy groans and cries as he comes all over himself, probably ruins his t-shirt. The sounds have your hips unconsciously bucking forward into nothingness, the frustration of not being able to cum with him manifesting in the form of a tiny little sob. Luckily, he doesn’t catch it.

When it’s all said and done, he’s left panting into the receiver, flooding your speaker with breathy sighs that only make you more and more aroused.

“You’re terrible,” you frown, cheeks flushed, body tingling. You flip your wrist over and check the time; it’s been about sixteen minutes since you disappeared from outside. Sixteen minutes of listening to Jungkook touch himself and moan and whine and whimper. Tease you with new possibilities you had never considered before. And now he’s satisfied and you’re not.

Jungkook chuckles, low and tired. The sound shoots straight to your cunt. “Come over after you shift,” he says, as if you’re not planning to fake a severe case of the flu right now in order to get off early and run to his bed. You only had a little less than two hours of your shift left anyway. Not like they paid you well to begin with. Jungkook shifts, releases one of those saccharine groans as he probably snuggles into his bed, all sweaty and worn out. “Want you to fuck my face, baby.”

You frown, counting to ten to calm yourself down. Another few minutes of listless conversation, and you hang up. Your body feels featherlight, a little woozy as you make your way back out into the floor.

Nothing has changed. Customers pour in and out, your boss scolds you for a display you didn’t do, and life inside the store drags on. No one knows that you’re soaking your panties to hell and back, Jungkook’s soothing moans in your ear. Life goes on.

you shift ends in 20

jungkook♡ sweet jungkook♡ got your seat ready jungkook♡ Attachment: 1 Image

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[farfromsugafanfic]

Sutures - Chapter Ten: Amiodarone

Genre: Soulmates AU, Idiots to Lovers, slight Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Yoongi/Named Reader

Warnings (chapter specific): family member hospitalization, therapy, angst if you squint

Synopsis: “A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it.” –Jean de la Fontaine

There was only one thing you and Min Yoongi had in common that night. You were both brokenhearted. You only intended to be together for one night, but when you both end up in the hospital the next day you discover that you are soulmates. It could kill you to be apart. As you and Yoongi attempt to sever the bond between you, will another be formed?

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The first thing you felt--before you opened your eyes--was Yoongi's white T-shirt against your cheek and the warmth of his skin beneath it. His arm was around you and his hand rested on the peak of your hip. You opened your eyes and looked up to see his hair splayed across his forehead and his lips pouted.

You smiled as you slowly removed yourself from Yoongi's arms. He stirred as you stood up and were away from his grasp, but he softly moved as he rolled onto his side and his arms reached for where you had once been. You could get used to waking up next to Yoongi every morning. Something about the way he missed you--even when he wasn't awake--made your heart swell.

You quickly pushed those thoughts away as you took two mugs from the table and flipped them right side up. While you were used to cheap hotels with packages of instant coffee and--if you were lucky--an electric tea kettle, this hotel, however, had a full coffee maker and a few coffee brands to choose from. You chose a brand you recognized and placed it in the coffee maker.

It wasn't long before the entire room smelled of coffee. As you were pouring the second cup of coffee, you felt a soft touch on your waist and turned to catch Yoongi's soft smile and messy hair as he reached for one of the mugs.

"Thanks," he said, his voice raspy and deep.

You nodded and took a sip of your coffee and sat down at the table, Yoongi soon following and sitting across from you.

"You like it black?"

"Yeah," you said. "My dad would always drink it black and when I was old enough that's how he made it for me. It just kind of stuck."

"Do you miss them?"

"Of course," you said. "It's hard when they're so far away, but I don't regret staying here. I can make a living here, more so than I could in the US."

"When did you see them last?"

"Around a year ago. Minki came with me and it was the first time he'd been to the US and the first time he met my family. They didn't like him that much. I guess I should've listened to them." You chuckled sardonically and took a large sip of coffee, creating a silence--while not uncomfortable--had a small bit of tension laced in. "What about you? You don't get to see your family much either, right? Being an idol and all?"

The question caused him to sit up straight and meet your eyes before quickly looking back down at the wooden table. "Uh, yeah, we usually see our families a couple of times a year. Usually towards the end of the year and then sporadically throughout. Some see their families more often cause they live near Seoul, but getting to Daegu is hard. We didn't always get along when I first moved, so it was hard for a while."

"Oh," you said. While all families fight and disagree, you couldn't imagine not talking to your family or not having their support. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he said. "We've moved past it. It was a long time ago. We talk more often now and they really want to meet you."

You laughed, not sure if it was from the nerves of thinking about meeting his family or simply because the idea itself was laughable because you weren't in a relationship. "Why? I mean, they know what we're trying to do, right?"

"Yeah," he said. "They're convinced it won't work though. We're soulmates. We'll always come back to each other."

"It's worked before. Pairs of soulmates able to distance themselves and move on. I think we can do it."

"Yeah," he said, his words punctuated by sips of coffee. "Yeah, we can." There were a few moments of silence before he set his mug down and his eyes met yours. "So, I promised you a proper date, but after everything that happened yesterday, do you want to risk going out into the city?"

"Not really," you said. "I don't even want to leave the room. I want to see the city, but it makes me nervous just thinking about going back out there."

Yoongi reached across the table, his fingers brushing over the back of your hand. "I'll bring you back someday when we can properly wander the city."

Your stomach flipped. You knew it was probably just an empty promise and supposed to be comforting, but considering you had just talked about distancing yourselves from one another, it seemed unwise to promise, even something empty and trivial.

---

Two hours later and the two of you were laid on the bed, close, but not touching. Empty plates littered the bedside tables and each of you held a wine glass in your hand. You smiled as you sipped the deep red alcohol and felt as a buzz came over your senses. It wasn't unpleasant, just like a small vibration in your head. The same one that had convinced you to sleep with Yoongi the first time you met him.

"You're sure this isn't too much?" you asked, glancing down at the nearly three hundred dollar room service bill.

Yoongi laughed. "You really don't have to worry about it."

"It makes me feel bad," you said. "Will you let me pay for something later?"

"If it makes you feel better." His fingers glided over the skin of your left hand that rested on the bed, dangerously close to his thigh.

The couple in the movie you were watching kissed and you felt a stirring low in your stomach. It had been so long since you'd felt Yoongi's lips on yours. You knew he was feeling the same way, as he squirmed slightly beside you.

"You feel it, too?"

"Yeah," he said. "We need to try and resist it."

"Didn't the therapist say to try and get through it with mainly friendly things?"

"I think so."

His arm came around you and his skin felt like ice on a sunburn. You nearly let out a moan. You wanted to feel his lips on your neck and his hands on your thighs. The bruising way he grabbed your skin without leaving any bruises. How his hair looked pushed back and the way his lips swelled after even the softest of kisses.

"Yoongi, can--can I kiss you?"

"I don't think that's exactly friendly."

"Just one," you said. "It'll be less than we did last time this happened."

"All right," he said. "But, we can't let it go too far."

You nodded and shifted so that you faced him, the front of your body pressed into his side. His hand came to rest on the small of you back and his lips came to meet yours before you'd fully closed your eyes.

They were soft, like always. You could taste the red wine on his lips and the hesitation as he pushed the tip of his tongue into your mouth. His hand bunched the fabric of your T-shirt and your hands laced in his hair. You never wanted to let go.

Yoongi pulled away first, although his eyes were pained as he did so. He reached up and smoothed your hair back.

"Damn," he said. "If only I'd met you before Jihee."

"Yoongi, you can't mean that."

"Maybe if it was a different time, or if I wasn't an idol, I don't know, but I like to think there's a universe where we work out."

Your lips formed words you hadn't thought of yet when your phone vibrated on the bed beside you. You reached for it and saw it was your mom. It was nearing 9 p.m. in Los Angeles and your mom normally called you just after dinner. 

"I--uh--have to take this." 

---

You walked into the bathroom and answered the phone as you shut the door. 

"Mom? Hey, what's going on?" 

"Sumi!" Your mom's voice sounded panicked. "Are you still in Japan?" 

"Yeah, we're flying back to Korea tomorrow?" You paused. "Is everything okay? You don't usually call me at this time." 

"Well, I don't want to worry you. I want you to enjoy the rest of your time in Japan, okay?"

"Okay..."

"Grandma fell and is in the hospital. She broke her wrist and the doctors say her blood sugar was too low. They don't know what caused it yet, but they're going to monitor her for a few days." 

You nodded and already felt the tears forming in your eyes. Your grandmother was nearing ninety and you knew your time with her was limited, but she'd been the one to encourage you to stay in Korea and do what you wanted. She always knew and wanted what was best for you and you loved her more than anyone for it. 

"Okay," you said, your voice cracking. "Is there anything I can do?" 

"Call when you get back tomorrow. If she's feeling better, I'm sure she'd love to talk to you." 

"Of course. I'll call as soon as I'm back." You reached up and wiped the few tears that had managed to squeeze out. "Just keep me updated."

You heard a soft knock on the door as you hung up the door. You opened it and met with a soft-eyed Yoongi, his arms almost immediately coming to rest on your hips. 

"Everything okay?" 

"Uh. yeah," you said. "My grandma's in the hospital. It's not too concerning at the moment, I just, uh, get a bit emotional when it comes to her." 

He nodded and led you back to the bed. He didn't say anything else, just electing to keep one of his arms around your shoulders and turn the volume on the movie up. He handed you an unopened bag of cookies as if he knew it was exactly what you needed. 

---

A few days later

"So, how are things going?" the therapist asked, her notebook resting on her lap and her glasses slid down the bridge of her nose. 

"Uh, well, we get along better now. I-I think we understand each other better now. But, we've run into something a little more worrisome." 

"What's that?" 

"Well, we had a fight a while ago. I'm fairly close with his other members and one of them was trying to comfort me and when he touched me, I burned him." 

"Yeah, I also have a weird emotional attachment to her. Like, my emotions are tied to hers. If she's sad, then I feel overwhelmingly sad until she's happy again." 

You turned to Yoongi with your lips pursed in curiosity. "What?" 

"Oh, I thought you'd caught onto to that." 

You had noticed that Yoongi had seemed to understand you better recently. He was always there whenever your mood flatlined, you soon found Yoongi coming with a snack or a cup of tea. Sometimes he stuck around and sometimes he didn't, but he never failed to jumpstart your mood.

"Is this happening constantly or only after a conflict?" 

"I'm always tuned into her emotions. However, negative emotions always come through the strongest, whether caused by me or not." 

You felt him looking at you and it caused your cheeks to heat. "Oh, the burning happened twice. Once as we mentioned and the second time I burnt through another's T-shirt, but I didn't actually burn him." 

The therapist nodded and chewed on the end of her pen. "There aren't many precedents for these sorts of things, as you know, soulmates are rare. It's even rarer for a pair to decide they don't want to be together. The physical symptoms we've seen before were not that different from the ones you're exhibiting." She jotted down a few notes and flipped back to a previous page. "Now that you're exhibiting these symptoms though, it means that you've grown to the stage where we can begin to back off the connection.

"The only things you two need to do is to try and minimize the conflict between the two of you, continue resisting urges to the best of your ability, and we will be prescribing some medication. Since such a high profile soulmates case has come up, the interest in research recently has increased and so your medical treatment may change. So, you'll need to go in for a checkup in after about a week on the new medication."

"I have a quick question," Yoongi said. "My, uh, parents really want to meet Sumi. They know we're trying to break this and everything, but we have some time off and I was wondering if that would hurt things if she came with me to Daegu?"

The therapist shrugged. "I don't see why it would. It's perfectly fine for the two of you to act as friends and you have to stay together until the bond is completely severed. However, if something feels off during the visit, leave." 

You looked at Yoongi. He'd left you speechless for the second time during the appointment. He never brought up meeting his parents, only that they wanted to meet you. Your palms went clammy and you began to pick at the skin around your fingernails. You wished you'd brought your needles.

---

"You never mentioned actually meeting your parents," you said, carrying your prescription and ducking into the car before anyone could catch sight of you and Yoongi. 

"I didn't really think it was happening, but, I don't know. If we only have one soulmate, I want them to meet mine."

"Okay," you said. "I-uh-I just don't have much time to prepare." 

"What? Why would you need to prepare?"

"So they'll like me." 

"You don't need to worry about that, Sumi. They'll love you." 

---

Mom (3:45 am): Sumi!

You (3:47 am): Yes? Is everything all right?

Mom (3:49 am): Hey, isn't it early there? Shouldn't you be asleep?

You (3:50 am): It's all right. How's Grandma?

Mom (3:52 am): Oh, she's fine. She's getting discharged now. She's actually in fairly good spirits. You'll never guess what arrived this morning.

Sumi (3:53 am): What?

Mom (3:55 am):

Mom (3:55 am): From Min Yoongi. It made her so happy. Give him our thanks.

[laundryandtaxes]

What type of watch’s do you recommend? I’m a baby bi that’s a tomboy and I want nice watch but I know there’s a certain etiquette when it comes to watches. I like rolexes but that’s waaaaay above my budget, I want a nice watch but something affordable (: thanks in advance! 🥰

Honestly this will depend a lot on your budget and what "affordable" means to you! To me, "affordable" means that I can reasonably expect to be able to save up for an item within several months WITHOUT it impacting my general savings goals. For me, that number means that a watch that costs around $500 is one that I personally consider affordable, but that number may be higher or lower for you.

The first question to ask yourself is whether you prefer an automatic watch, a manual wind watch, or a quartz watch. The watch I wear almost every day is an automatic watch- that means it is wound by the movement of the wearer's wrist in daily life. Automatic watches will have a /relatively/ smooth seconds hand sweep, and really nice automatic watches will have extremely smooth seconds hand sweeps. Even office workers generally move their wrists enough to power an automatic watch. However, if you sit an automatic watch down for longer than what is called its "power reserve," normally between 24 and 48 hours, it will stop, and that means you'll need to reset the watch to wear it again. Here is my Traska Freediver, my daily wear watch. It is an automatic watch, in a dive watch style.

Dive watches are so called because the design was originally made for divers to be able to time how long they'd been under. In the dark, like I imagine it would be 150 meters under the surface of the ocean, dive watches pretty much all have some material applied that makes them glow in the dark so the wearer can measure time under, and can read the time itself. I use my countdown bezel regularly for timing pasta, timing tasks at work, etc.

A manual wind watch is one where the owner needs to manually wind the watch, usually around once a day, to power it. Again, if you do not wind the watch regularly, it will stop. For both automatics and manual winds, this is not a problem and in fact it can be good to give a watch some rest time occasionally. Both automatic and manual wind watches are not 100% accurate- they will have a range of how many seconds they lose or gain in a day. Really well made watches by companies like Omega and Rolex can sometimes run off by as little as a 4 to 6 seconds a day, while cheaper watches may lose or gai. as much as 10 or 20 or in bad cases even a couple of minutes per day.

Quartz watches are powered by a battery. The way they work is, basically, that a quartz vibrates at a particular frequency, which translates into one movement of the seconds hand per second. This is the tick tick tick you're likely familiar with in watches. These watches are inherently more accurate than Rolexes because they are more accurate than any automatic or manual wind watch. You can sit a quartz watch down ans pick it up a week later and it will have kept perfect time. However, the smooth sweep of the seconds hand is usually very expensive to accomplish with a quartz watch. A lot of watch snobs turn their nose up at quartz watches because most mass produced watches today are quartz powered, but the truth is that this was a revolutionary technology at one point that almost killed the luxury watch market because it meant any $10 Casio would inherently keep better time than any automatic Rolex. Now, many luxury watchmakers produce both automatic and quartz watched, including Rolex and Omega. I own several quartz watches, including a Casio Databank and a Timex Q I actually got for free through a butch group on Facebook! The very first watch I ever wore every day, when I was maybe 20 or 21, was a Timex Weekender, and it's what got me into watches. Here is my Databank. It cost me maybe $25 and I can do math with it.

The second question to answer is whether you care about what is often called "heritage" I the watch world. This refers to a company having an extensive and well-repsected history of making competent watches. Companies with undeniable heritage that make affordable watches include Seiko, Hamilton, Bulova, and frankly Casio. There are others, of course, but there are a few to get you started. Traska, the brand that made my watch, is what's called a microbrand- microbrands buy movements (the guts inside the watch) from other companies and most of them create original designs of their own, but they're young companies that don't have 100 years of watchmaking experience.

The third question to answer is whether you're okay with "homages," a euphemistic term for a watch that outright copies another, more famous and usually more expensive watch, sometimes while changing a design and sometimes not. Pagani Design, a company that makes their watches in China to keep costs down but lately has achieved really exceptional metal finishing for the price, pretty much only makes homages, like their recent copy of the Rolex Explorer 2. Ginault is a company that makes higher end Rolex "homages," which in this case we really can pretty much call copies because rumor has it they used to sell counterfeits and then got so good at it that they decided to put their own brand on the package. The Invicta Pro Diver is a Rolex submariner homage, but most owners say theirs is built well and Invicta makes plenty of, most horrible but sometimes classy, original designs as well. A lot of watch snobs will turn their nose up at homages because the watch will lack "heritage," but only you can make the call of how much original design matters to you. If you see anything that says it is Bauhaus inspired, anything with "sub" in the name, anything with all round hour indices except a triangular 12 o clock marker, you're probably looking at an homage.

So once you've got your answer to those questions you can dig into watch models! I'm going to rattle off a bunch of watches around or under $250, because I think spending more than that on a hobby you may not be that into is kind of silly to start. From Seiko, their SKX007 and the smaller SKX013 are undeniably classic, well made, respectable watches. Their SNK809 (these are called references, and they're annoying) is also an undeniably well respected watch that has enough water resistance for fishing on my experience. And while their Seiko 5 Sports line isn't for me, lots of people really enjoy it. You USED to be able to get an SKX007 for around $200- they're discontinued for some reason, which means prices have risen, but sometimes you can still find them around that price. For around the same price, you can generally find a used Hamilton Khaki King or other Khaki model in good condition. You can also go vintage with either brand, but be aware there are loads of fake vintage watches out there, so do your research before purchasing if spending what is, to you, a lot of money. The SNK809 was my first automatic watch, and here's it on my wrist.

You can also find lots of cool vintage automatics and manual winds in this price range, including the Vostok Amphibia. These were Soviet watches designed for divers. The countdown bezels suck ass, but the design is original and cool and the case is actually designed so that it grows more and more waterproof as a diver dives further under the surface of the water. Here's my Amphibia.

If you think quartz will be your thing then you've got loads of options in this price range. Pretty much anything by Timex, including their very cool Timex Q, loads of watches by Casio, lots of Seiko quartz options, etc. In terms of truly iconic affordable quartz watches I think the Mondaine watch whose name I cannot recall, the Casio F91W, and the Casio World Time are all very classic, well respected quartz models.

I know this was a lot, so let me know if you have more specific questions or if certain things really pique your interest more than others!

[thewritewolf]

After the End Chapter 13: Flower Shop

Marinette and Chat Noir talk about the future

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@marichatmay

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

It was too chilly to be standing out on the balcony alone at this time of year, and especially with how late it was. The nearly-winter air only grew more biting when the sun sank below the horizon and if you closed your eyes you could almost smell the frost on the wind.

Thankfully, Marinette was not alone.

Between her jacket, sewn by her own hand to be as warm as it was fashionable, and being tucked snuggly against Chat Noir, the cold barely even crossed her mind. It was much closer than either of them would have been comfortable with just a couple months ago, but the nights they’d spent in each other’s company had slowly but surely shifted things between them. For now, neither of them wanted to examine those changed feelings too closely.

Instead, Marinette wanted answers to a different set of questions entirely.

“What are your plans for the future?”

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

The yellow tape with the words in all capital letters ‘CONDEMNED’ disintegrated into black ash along with the rest of the door. Chat Noir pulled back his hand, glanced around at the empty side street, and drifted inside noiselessly.

Finding this place had taken some ingenuity on his part - Marinette may have gotten his brain jogging, but there were a lot of options in the city. In the end, though, all he needed to do was find the ones that had been abandoned since at least the fall of Hawkmoth.

Taking a deep breath of the dusty, stale air that carried a hint of rot to it, Chat Noir knew that this place fit that description to a t.

Chat Noir blended into the shadows and began to search through the wreckage.

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

“I don’t know,” Chat said with a shrug. “Right now, I’m just focusing on my hero duties. There’s still a mystery that needs solving.”

“I mean, yeah, but don’t you have a life outside of this?” She ran a finger along the edge of his mask for a moment. “You’ve got to have a plan once everything on that side of it is resolved, right?”

“What’s your plan then?” He leaned on the balcony rail and looked at her out of the corner of his eye.

“Simple - I’m going to build a new fashion empire. After the Agreste brand imploded, there is space for something new to flourish.”

“You’re welcome for that.” Chat shook his head, staring off into the distance. “With everything that came to light after Hawkmoth got unmasked, it looks like they had it coming.”

A wave of anger washed over Marinette. She put a hand on her hip and jabbed a finger at Chat. “Listen. There was only one bad Agreste and I’m grateful for how you and Ladybug took him down, but the rest…”

She let go of Chat’s chin as the anger abated. All she was left with was a cold pit in her stomach, old doubts resurfacing as the memories of the days and weeks following the unmasking replayed in her mind. Was there anything else she could have done? Would Adrien still be in Paris, safe and happy with them, if she had done better?

“They were victims like everyone else.”

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

Even with his gentle footfalls, debris still crunched under his feet. Something about it tickled at the back of his mind. The devastation around him seemed almost… familiar.

Destruction was something of a specialty of his, after all. He’d seen cataclysm get used on countless objects and substances over the course of his years being Chat Noir. But it didn’t look like anything that the miraculous had done - there wasn’t enough ash and black decay for that. Then it suddenly hit him as he lifted a piece of wood that looked like it had vibrated apart.

His miraculous hadn’t inflicted this damage - this was the doing of the butterfly. Specifically, a sonic-based akuma back in January. That one was rough, with large swaths of the city getting screamed apart. But the miraculous cure had put everything back to normal, same as it always did.

So why hadn’t this place?

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

“There’s plenty of options for you!”

“You don’t know that much about me, Marinette,” Chat replied with a sad smile. “How can you possibly know what would make a good fit for me?”

“I don’t need to know what your face looks like to know something that fits your personality.” She snorted. “Well, except for modeling, but what would you model? Leather? Cat ears?”

“Yeah. Me, a model? Ridiculous.”

“Don’t worry, there’s lots of other stuff for you.” She took a theatrical few steps back, made a square with her fingers that she surrounded him with, and closed one eye. “How about… Chat Noir the circus clown!”

Chat laughed. “Oh, so you’re saying you always secretly liked my pun, huh? Then I’ve got a few more for you…”

“Oh right, you’ve got to actually be funny to be a clown.” She stuck her tongue out playfully to take the bite out of her words. “My bad.”

“Clown’s out then - what else you got?”

“Teacher? You’ve got a good head on your shoulders.”

“Eh, maybe. I like kids but I’ve never been much of an authority figure.” He whispered to her conspiratorially. “Don’t tell Ladybug, but I’m actually a big rebel. Sometimes I stay up a whole hour past my bed time.”

“Wow, next you’ll tell me you don’t even look both ways before crossing the street.”

“Of course I do, I’m an anarchist, not stupid.”

“Which brings me to my next Chat career - counsellor. Like helping people work through their problems?”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah…” she tapped his nose, making him blink. “I can tell those eyes have seen a lot. And yet, you’ve come through it. Maybe you can use what you’ve learned to help people?”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Anything else?”

“Well… and this one is a bit out there, but… How about opening a flower shop? You’ve always been such a romantic and- Chat? Are you okay?”

He had suddenly gone very stiff, his eyes widening as he took in a sharp breath. It seemed to pass quickly, suddenly replaced with a manic energy as his hand darted for his baton.

“I’m sorry, I’ve got to go! I just had an idea!”

“Wait, Chat-!”

But it was too late. He’d leapt off the balcony and gone running off into the night.

Marinette was left to wonder - did he really have an idea, or had she made him uncomfortable? Did thinking of the future really upset him so much?

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

Whoever had been here before must have left in a hurry and never come back, Chat Noir thought as he passed rows of decayed flower beds. Little was left of the beautiful plants except for gnarled twigs and rotten petals. It wasn’t what he was here for, but it did give him some hope that maybe, just maybe, the Gentlemen had forgotten something here.

If they had ever been here in the first place, that is.

Chat Noir stepped into the backroom of the former flowershop. The rubble that might have given a civilian difficulties yielded to super human strength and the slightest touch of Cataclysm. There, he found a small filing cabinet marked with the store’s name - Boutonnière Noir.

While he was grabbing what few files remained, intending to pour over them back at the mansion, the gleam of something metallic caught his eye at the bottom of the cabinet. Reaching in, he pulled out a badge that just barely fit in the palm of his hand. It had no words, but he knew in his heart that it was the symbol of the Gentlemen - a man with a top hat, a fanged smile, and a finger held up like a hush.

After one last look over the husk of the Boutonnière Noir, Chat Noir left with his spoils.

[phantomphangphucker]

Ectober Week Fog/Splatter (Also Works For Darkness/Poison And Glow Stick/REDRUM): Poised To Go Splat

Casper high, predictably, can’t even have a normal dance without it getting interrupted by something ecto.

Danny pushes in the gymnasium doors, drink -which is, in his opinion, unfortunately non-alcoholic punch- already in hand. Side-stepping and leaning against the wall purely to watch the pulsing, flashing, moving strobe lights and laser beams bouncing off and curving over people glowing bright neons thanks to the blacklight. Excluding that light, it was borderline pitch-black; which he finds he’s perfectly content with. Being able to see in even absolute dark and all that. Honestly, this would probably look cooler without his fantastic night vision. Seeing as everyone else probably can’t see the turned off ceiling lights or teachers dressed in dark colours hanging out watching the dance. But fuck, at least his parents aren’t here this time. Lancer is, but Lancer’s probably the only teacher left who doesn’t hate his entire being, guts, and continued existence.

Looking around at the decorations as he wanders aimlessly over to the food table, thank everything the theme was Creepy Critters, guess the school and town were finally tiring of making goddamn everything ghost-themed. Sure it was funny and ironic at first -honestly come on, a ghost going to ghost-themed events? HILARIOUS- but things lose that little spark of novelty real quick. Especially when you are a ghost -or half of one at least-, are surrounded by and fighting other ghosts, have ghost hunters for parents and friends, and live in the most haunted town in the world. Ghosts were their thing but nobody likes a one-trick pony, especially the people living with said pony. Now what does ponies have to do with the current Halloween Casper high ball and him acquiring fake cheesy snacks? Absolutely nothing. He’s not even wearing a pony costume. Sure he thought about it, FrightKnight would argue that undead alicorns absolutely do count as a creepy critter, but Danny’s pretty sure that’s not what the school was going for here.  

Needless to say, Danny’s rocking a pretty solid -if he says so himself- raven costume. And sure, maybe it was glowing all by itself and maybe the feathers were just slightly sentient and made of black moulded ectoplasm, but it’s not like anyone here’s going to notice that. Danny is exceptionally experienced with what people will and will not notice in this school and town. Regardless, he gets his hands on his sweet cheesy puffs... and is instantly disappointed they got the no-name brand. Those things were so greasy they legitimately tasted like straight-up flavourless grease, just with a side of cheese. Like someone poured grease into a mould, filled it with air to make it puffy ‘n shit,  and then sprinkled some cheese on top like an afterthought. Needless to say, he eats an entire handful. Danny Fenton-Phantom is not a man -teen, whatever- of refined tastes or any large amount of standards. He’ll eat cheese-flavoured grease, he’ll do it gladly.

Deciding to meander onto the dance floor aka the centre of the gym, to enjoy the light show and attempt to get lost in it a little. Most people are chitchatting with their friends, dancing stupidly, pretending to be drunk, or pretending they’re about to sneak into the bathroom to fuck purely to get a rise out of the teachers. Sure it takes all of half an hour for someone to start smashing apart glow sticks and smear the liquid around, which of course cause practically half his fellow teens -including him in all honesty- to follow suit, but that’s really par for the course at any Highschool dance worth it’s salt and ectoplasm. Besides, not like he actually had to wash his costume, fuck that he’ll just absorb the ectoplasm into his system; leaving the probably toxic glow stick juice though. He doesn’t have standards but he does have at least a mild desire to not intentionally poison himself. Regardless of the fact that his ectoplasm would just destroy whatever toxins anyway. Thinking of that though, maybe he could, like, drink one or two just to freak people out. It’s not a Casper party unless Danny Fenton does something weird and freaky, right? And pretending to get repeatedly trapped inside the mirrors and writing on them to be freed was so last year, like, literally last year. Yeah fuck it, self-inflicted poisoning be damned, that’s what he’s doing this year. Meaning he promptly snaps one open and shotguns it while winking at one of the teachers he can easily see. They scowl and throw out their hands to the side. Mission accomplished already. Nice.

Vaguely he wonders what the heck his friends are up to while he dances loosely and only absently aware of people around him. He knows neither’s coming, Tucker being grounded and Sam disliking the idea of school parties while also not being willing to tolerate one purely to keep Danny company. Which was fine, he could entertain and enjoy himself by himself just fine. And he gets that he can be a little much for most people, his friends included. But hey, they haven’t totally ditched him in life/half-life, so he’s going to consider it a plus. Tilting his head back to let some of the flashing beams periodically flash him straight in the eyes, how it made everything else blackout for a bit was a nice effect even if the light bordered on painfully bright for those split seconds. He gets his friends pulling away from him some, really it was hard for humans to be close with anything that wasn’t quite human enough. Same reason Vlad was utterly friendless, alongside being an evil nutcase anyway. Danny honestly doesn’t mind, honest, he’s perfected the loner act at least to some degree most of his life. He was always only close enough with people to be able to include them in his social circle. Sure Sam and Tucker got almost unhealthily close and attached to him for a while there, but the whole ‘we almost killed you and need to protect your dumbass now because fuck, you died’ and ‘this hero thing is cool af’ things wore off real quick. Their friendship was effectively back to normal now, close but at arm's length. He liked the breathing space even if it was just slightly lonely. But again, as he spins and twists a little, he’s perfected the sorta-loner thing.

He shotguns another little glow stick -that he’s pretty sure used to be wrapped around someone’s wrist- and lays spread out on the ground; not really giving a damn about occasionally being stepped on and waving off anyone who checks on him with a cheeky ‘I'm good’. That gets boring really quick though, especially as people just consciously know to avoid his spot on the floor now. He paused in his almost attempt to push himself up at hearing someone mutter, “ah yes! Finally got this stupid thing working”. Danny tilting his head at seeing something vibrate on the ceiling before making a hissing sound and spitting out fog. Ah, so they actually dished out for a fog machine? Oh wait, never-mind. It’s got a little green flaming F on it. Ah fuck, he should probably be worried about that, that F was probably ominous all things considered. But he can’t really be bothered to do more than watch it spit fog for a bit, fog machines were frickin’ awesome. He should totally buy one. Or make one.

It don’t take long to hear a couple mildly impressed sounds over the fogging up air above everyone’s heads, and a few complaints about it apparently smelling like rotten lime juice and cat piss. Which yeah, definitely ominous. Weren’t fog machines supposed to smell like fake vanilla or something? Make you wonder just what the Hell the added strong vanilla was there to attempt at covering up. Maybe this was just what it smelled like without the added vanilla. Doubtful and Danny’s hardly ever that lucky. Hence why he’s deciding staying on the floor is officially a good idea. Watching the effect with the lasers ‘n shit is cool as heck though.

He absolutely can tell when the fog gets far enough and thick enough to reach him, ‘cause the ecto making up his costume gets just vaguely liquidy. Oh yeah, he should probably nope out of this situation. At the very least if this stuff destroyed his costume he’d be stuck in just his boxers and a wife-beater. No one needs to see that. Or more specifically, he doesn’t want anyone to see that; considering all the scarring and the muscle he’s at least attempting to hide from the school at large.

Deciding to sit up and immediately deciding that crawling would have been a better idea at feeling like someone just started jabbing tiny needles into his face, which he immediately winces at and gets up. Pushing his way past the people, some looking legitimately drunk or otherwise like hot garbage. Zone, he probably looks drunk right about now since there is precisely zero chance he’s walking in a straight line considering how everything’s warping, bending, and pulsing. Yup, leave it to his parents to absently poison him at a seemingly basic normal high school dance. Lovely.

Well at least he got to have a good time for a while there. Right now though? He so totally is going to throw up. It’s happening and it can either happen on the dance floor -gross and unpleasant for everyone around- or in the locker room/bathroom -also gross, in fact it’s just slightly more gross but less embarrassing. But it’ll be less gross for everyone else. Which, come on, other people kinda tend to be his priority.

One stroke of luck though, the locker room is blessedly empty. Saving anyone from gross or just downright weird collateral when his costume effectively explodes in a sticky gooey ectoplasmic mess. Splattering all across the room while also sticking to him like some kind of disgusting vaguely sentient tar. Which effectively flings him into the centre of the room, smashing his back onto one of the benches, and makes wet slurpy suction noises when he lands on the ground properly. He absently thinks it was the single most comical stereotypical sounding ‘splat’ noise he’s ever heard, as he groans slightly.

Unsticking his arm from the ground with wet thwap suction noises to shot his hand over his mouth as he gags. Ah yup, there’s the whole vomit thing he was talking about. Shit body, time to get up. Preferably, like, now. It takes an honestly ungodly amount of effort to peel himself off the floor, the black ectoplasm still sticking and stretching with him as he stagger walks to the bathroom and effectively throws himself at the toilet; smashing his head on the ceramic tank in the process. Because, apparently, vomiting wasn’t enough for him. No. He also needed to have a mild headache. Fun.

It takes about three seconds before he feels like he’s hurling up his entire insides -which is a plausible theory- along with inner layers of flesh -also quite possible- and it glows ridiculously; that last one he can probably blame at least partly on the whole glow stick juice shooters idea of his.

Blinking down into the toilet bowl and wheezing, single most interesting mixture of glowing colours he’s seen in a long-ass time. And oh, yup more vomiting. Ah fuck, Jesus. He shoulda stayed home. He straight up really does feel like his insides are just mildly being torn apart or maybe liquified. Which, considering his costume and it’s black splatter remains, might be legitimately accurate. Which is, like, super not good for his half ecto ass. The fuck’s he supposed to do about it though? He’s stuck with his head in a toilet, ironically splattering the inside of that bowl about as much as the rest of the place was already messy with ecto.

He should at least attempt to do something about this. His phone is fuck knows where in the black mess behind him. Ancients knows if it even still will work properly after getting effectively soaked in supremely sticky ectoplasm and probably thrown violently into something. Eh, nobody said his ass wasn’t creative; hacking up his innards or not. Electing to use some of the ectoplasm -he’s not going to question how the heck he’s able to consciously move the black ecto. Beyond that he probably absorbed it some, in some weird attempt to make up for the glow stick contaminated crap he’s been hacking up- to smear a little ‘get help’ and ‘preferably from my dumbass parents’ on the mirrors, since speaking is kinda out of the option here. Not that anyone will walk in here and not call for help; this was kinda noticeable after all.

By the time someone does wander in he’s groaning into the stupid toilet -that he just mildly hates and feels way too friendly with at the moment- and feeling like his skin is going to bubble right off his muscles, his bones feel a little loose and wet too. Which, like, all that is a super supremely not good sign. Fuck, sometimes he wished his parents were just stupid rather than stupid smart. They wouldn’t be mildly good at actually hurting his ecto-ass otherwise.

“Oh holy crap, what the fuck”. Whoever’s footsteps get closer and make squelching noises, “oh god ew, why is it so sticky? Ah ew”. Danny retches again just to make a point that would dude bro to hurry the fuck up. “Fuck. Fenton? Of course it’s you, and- oh well that’s actually worrying. Ah, I’m just gonna go call your folks. Jesus fuck. You are one poor son of a bitch, you know that?”. Danny obviously doesn’t reply to that beyond sticking up a kinda floppy saggy arm and flipping the guy off weakly. “Wow fuck, that’s- uh. Are you like dissolving or something. Why the fuck do I still live in this tow- oh yeah hi! I don’t know what’s up but Fen-Danny dude is going all exorcist in the school locker rooms. Also kinda looks like he exploded black tar everywhere and bones seem questionable at best and pretty sure the toilet is, like, glowing or some shit so maybe come and like get him? So someone doesn’t have to, like, tie a liquid Danny up in garbage bags”. Ancients, people are way too used to weird shit in this fucking town.

Danny can almost hear his parents freaking the Hell out over the dudes phone, he would be actually able to hear it if it didn’t sound like he was underwater and actively sinking down deeper. This, decidedly, sucks. But he’s kinda good at the whole dissociating away the pain and other awfulness at this point. He feels it but like he’s watching himself feel it rather than directly feeling it. It’s a lot and kinda everything, but he’s not really there for it.

He feels the guy try to pat his back or some shit, whatever it is it definitely doesn’t happen right and he can feel himself latching onto the dude and sucking out whatever bits of ectoplasm the dude’s carting around in his system -every Amity Parker was ecto-contaminates after all- and Danny’s body kinda just devours it for some more energy. “Oh god, congrats I’m officially disgusted. I mean, I already was but give me back my freaking arm. Cannibalism is so not your style. Jesus”.

Both of them hear someone else opening the door. “I really wouldn’t, there’s some honestly nasty shit going on and this tar stuff is like fucking flypaper or some shit”.

“Holy fuck! Okay this is kinda cool and super Halloween-esque. But yeah- oh fuck! Hell no!”. Danny can tell the black ecto -which, fuck, absolutely part of him now. Cool. He needed the energy anyway- has sorta bubbled and popped onto the new guy and grabs at him. Promptly absorbing more ecto from that dude and apparently his ecto has just decided that this is the course of emergency action. Decontaminate people via lowkey ecto-cannibalising them. Yeah this is his luck alright. Not that this is actually really making him any better, since he just keeps throwing whatever up. But hey, it’s keeping him from getting worse. That’s something. What he honestly doesn’t appreciate really is new guy running out of the bathroom and taking a stretchy string of black with him. Right back to the whole poison fog situation. So he makes a damn point to smack more ecto on the mirror, ‘fog machine off’.

“Ah, you literally have not let go of my arm. But ah fuck, I’ll just text a friend. Fuck man”.

-

The dance outside goes into mild panic chaos mode as soon as a guy book’s it out of the locker rooms like he’s attempting to flee from the black thing grabbing him, which promptly just explodes and splatters everywhere. Coating, bubbling, crawling, and splattering all over the floor, walls, and multiple people. From there it practically spreads around like a freaking plague sticking from person to person.

Someone does manage to get to one of the teachers though, “the, fog machine, it’s causing this, shit”. The teacher sighs, “of course something the Fenton's made is causing this”, and runs off.

The chaos only gets worse when the Fenton’s themselves barge in, everyone pointing at the black stuff -which they can’t even be sure is ectoplasm at this point- or at the locker room doors. Which is enough to jerk the two hunters out of their shock and get them back to bolting to the locker rooms, which had been their goal to begin with. Meanwhile, the teachers attempt to free people from the sticky mess, fend the black stuff off, or control the chaos. Everyone wondering why the heck school dancers can literally never ever go off without a hitch.

-

Danny makes a point to smear up the mirror messages at just vaguely scenting his folks, while the dude mutters, “oh thank fuck”. Danny can practically feel the guy flailing around the arm that isn’t apparently stuck in him, which like mind trip right? Not that this entire event wasn’t already a bullshit trip and a half.

Seconds later feeling a very solid hand on his shoulder as he retches a little more and feels dude guy get yanked away from him. Well obvious as shit what happened there. His folks suits were ecto-phobic and ecto-proof after all. “Danny? Sweetie?”. Ah so that was his mom. Nice to know. He’d like to leave this entire situation now. Thank you very much.

He can hear her scowl and sounding slightly less directly talking to him, “damnit. Looks like the ecto-repulsitory solution is affecting him. I knew we should have tested it at home”.

“There was hardly time Mads! Nothing for it now I guess!”. His dad freaking laughs. Cool. Glad they’re having fun. They could totally help him out here any minute now. Like, any minute now.

Those glow sticks were a bloody terrible idea, the toilet smells fucking rank and he’s blaming it on that; he needs some kind of scapegoat after all, and it sure as shit wasn’t gonna be his ecto.

Who he’s assuming is his mom pulls him back and he sorta collapses backwards -into what he’s just gonna assume is a blanket- rather bonelessly. Like, literally boneless. As in, fuck he’s so totally a vaguely person-shaped sorta semi-solid liquid right now. Lovely. He should probably pull himself together before he scares the piss, shit and vinegar out of his folks. And hey, he’s not smelling or tasting the lime anymore so he might actually be successful at that. Though he makes some not particularly impressed or happy gag/grumbling noises at feeling his folks physically trying to tear off stuff from him. Probably the black ecto, which was kinda understandable at the moment. But fuck, that’s kinda all that’s feeding him ecto-energy at the moment so kindly fuck off yeah? He does manage to slur out, “mom”, in an annoyed tone before gaging and coving his mouth with a very limp hand again.

“Jack, bucket now”. Which yeah cool, he’s down for not throwing up all over himself. So fine, he appreciates the bucket as he hacks and gags some more. But at the very least the whole vomit ecto thing feels less thick and sticky, more vaguely like light water. Which may or may not be a good thing. But that’s pretty typical for, like, half the shit that happens to him these days. He gives his folks a little thumbs up when he’s done though. Partly to be an ass, partly to be reassuring. Those two things don’t seem like they can coexist, but by the Ancients do they ever. His mom takes the bucket away.

Blinking his eyes open a bit blearily, noting being wrapped in a towel -an anti-ecto one specifically- like a little Danny burrito. Not that he was exactly edible. Zone, he very explicitly wasn’t edible. Considering how ectoplasm was pretty gosh darn toxic. Glancing around at the black sticky splattered everywhere, well damn he sure made one Hell of a mess. The poor fucking janitor. It looks like his folks successfully ripped it all off him and are using the blanket to keep it all off. Explains why he feels tired and energetically spent then. Wasn’t being fed/absorbing ectoplasmic energy any more. Eh oh well, not that he can really complain about that to his folks. Instead choosing to groan a little, “what have I told you guys, about not testing shit against, me and my shit, before using it, like this”. And really? They have had this conversation dozens of times. Sure they still -how they haven’t come across the idea of halfas yet is absolutely befuddling- thought he was just weirdly ecto-contaminated. But they knew shit affected him and yet....

“Sorry Sweetie”.

His dad laughs a little, “we were in a bit of a rush. Wanted to protect the dance from ghosts you know!”.

Danny snorts, oh yeah, they so totally protected it from ghosts... by literally poisoning one. “Funny thing. Don’t think no ghost, has ever crashed, one of the dances. Usually you guys”. Ah Hell, he didn’t mean for that to sound kinda cutting; based on their slight grimaces it was at least somewhat hurtful. Which of course means now he’s gotta fix that. Fuck him. “Didn’t mean it, that way. Aw Hell whatever. Let’s just go home, yeah?”.

His dad scoops him up without any hesitation, “you sure Danny-boy?”.

Danny rolls his eyes tiredly, slumping bonelessly, “I doubt I’ll be, doing much more dancing”. Hell, was anyone? Judging by how they all kinda scuttle embarrassingly out of the locker room to a gym filled with only sticky black and people still yanking their limbs and shoes out of the tar-like ectoplasm. Why the heck the laser light show is still going on he doesn’t have the slightest clue. But hey, it looks pretty fucking cool, he’ll give it that. He kinda wanted to squirm out of his fabric confines and reach down to scoop some up, it was kinda part of him after all, but Ancients knows what in all is in that stuff at this point. Bits of other people’s contamination, fog poison, glow stick juice, generalised floor hunk, food and juice obviously, maybe even bits of people’s food. Yeah, he’s gonna give that one a hard pass. Plus his folks would freak at him. They didn’t exactly want him more ‘contaminated’, after all. Still he gives an impressed whistle. One of the teachers scowling at him, “you just had to one-up yourself huh?”. Which Danny gives a cheeky lopsided and slightly melty smile at.

Danny speaks back up as his folks settle him down in the GAV, “so, what’s that stuff supposed to do? What did it even do?”. He has a few ideas but better to let them explain themselves to him. Their intentions did matter at least a little.

His dad perks up, “oh! It was supposed to disorient and discombobulate any ghosts! And make them unable to use abilities by making their ectoplasmic cells disjointed!”, then looking rather guilty, “I guess with you it made your more unusual ecto suffer some kind of disconnect with the rest of you. Like it made your body think it was rotten. Like food poisoning! And made your ecto ‘think’ your body was foreign so it tried dissolving it!”, tapping his chin, “not the slightest idea what was up with the black stuff clinging to you though”, and looks to his mom who shrugs.

Danny will admit that shit was confusing as Hell, so fine that would make a suitable deterrent. Not so suitable when the thing it’s trying to deter can’t fucking move away from it effectively though. So major design flaw there. Ah well, with his less than pleasant -for everyone involved- reaction, they’ll probably scrap this particular experiment. Which is totally fine by him. He may as well satiate their curiosity a little, to avoid any repeat incidences at the least, “ah well, I may have went and made my costume out of some of that black purified experimental ectoplasm”.

His mom blinks at him, “you did what???”, shaking her head in clear disbelief, though really they should expect this kind of stunt from him at this point, “sweetie, did you at least have something protecting your skin?”.

Danny grins a little, “I used that spray stuff”, which wasn’t even a lie. Walking around a dance with literal purified ecto on him without spraying on some kind of barrier to keep it from hurting anyone would have been grade A stupid, even for him. And honestly? That probably saved his ass slightly, was probably why that ecto had been able to absorb other ecto at all instead of just being a liquid sticky mess.

His mom taps her chin, “huh, the caustic interaction between the settled spray and fog formula must have caused the ectoplasm to coagulate and seek out energy sources”. Danny decidedly doesn’t say shit, let them think what they want. While she continues, “and you were its closest potential source but were obviously having a reaction yourself, so it just clung to you instead”. It would probably be mean of him to point at that it was kinda part of him at that point and that he could absolutely feel through it. Or that it wasn’t feeding itself but rather him. So that he, y’ know, would, like, pass out from energy loss or some shit. Passing out in a toilet, ugh that so would have been not fun. Thank you weirdly sticky black ecto stuff.

Anyway, he yawns, because now he’s tired and would like to genuinely replenish all the ecto he hacked up. At least he was a bit more solid now though. That was a positive something.

His mom smiles at him sweetly a bit as they get home, “I guess we best let you rest rather than spewing theories at you”, and nods at his dad, who swiftly and surprisingly smoothly scoops him up. Danny’s cool with this particular course of action, not making a fuss about his dad carrying him up to his room or his mom kissing him on the forehead afterwards.

Eyeing his phone, naw, he’ll let his friends find out on their own and be confused for a bit. That’s what they get for sorta ditching him.

-

Nightshade: do I want to know how you ‘unleashed a black slime monster’ at the dance?

PDAxpda: ???

PDAxpda: ‘monster’ not ‘ghost’

PDAxpda: found photo the heckers

Nightshade: someone also mentioned you got drunk on glow sticks and vomited literal rainbows

Nightshade: nice asettic but yoyr a dumbass

PDAxpda: 💯 that shits toxic

PDAxpda: not that that matters to a certain someone

Dpain: 😉

Dpain: and I guess I kinda qualify as a monster

PDAxpda: I hate the implications there

Nightshade: that black shit was you wasn’t it you ass

Dpain: only vaguly

Dpain: nebulously

Dpain: margunally

Nightshade: I hate you

Dpain: 😏

End.

[peepspersonalperspective]

Blackpink: Light Up The Sky

3/5

I’m a Blink, or at least I believe I am. I love the power in their music, in their choreography, their attitude and their fashion, all of it ...full love!

So I’m one of those people who had to watch their documentary the moment it was realeased in the middle of a working day (Kind of grateful for WFH right now)

I wanted to get to know them more. I see their variety episodes on Youtube, and it’s fun and stuff, being mostly a setup or a game or specific activity, but I also kind of want to relate and enter their real, natural world, which so far I’ve always felt shut out from. Like there’s a glass wall between us, I can feel the vibrations of their sound, I can see them lit in all their vibrance, but I can’t reach them. Now, I don’t know if it’s because of YG restrictions or what, but yeah that’s just my feeling, especially as an international fan, not locally based in South Korea, having as much exposure as a Korean resident Blink probably would. 

Anyway so I was super excited to check out their documentary, that promised unseen footage from trainee days, and childhood etc. And we got a whole bunch of it, especially in the first half. How they came to be, how they got into the whole ordeal, everything we kind of already knew, but backed up with some footage, and spelled out to us.

JENNIE: 

Jennie says she doesn’t like talking about herself, and I guess she lives up to her word. We do see some unseen footage of her schooling life in New Zealand, which was adorable. The entire time I couldn’t help but wonder how she got a pink cast on her hand, and what’s the story there? Beyond that it was pretty on the surface kind of stuff, and a little anecdote from her Pilates instructor. She did show her consternation about the restrictions on drinking, partying, and losing friends along the way, as trainees kept dropping out of the program, and a very brief moment of reflection on missing out on high school, and all the memories, regular teenagers get to make in their adoloscence. But yeah, was it really new information? 

LISA:

Things I learned about Lisa -

1. She loves vintage clothes, and loves spending on them, a constant concern for her mother who handles her finances.

2. She and Rose confided in each other whenever they felt like outsiders, almost picking up her Australian accent. She also took Jennie’s help a lot who was the only English speaking trainee when she joined.

3. She had the weirdest style and hairdo when she auditioned for YG.

4. She thinks she goes overboard in trying to cheer up her members, but they convince her that her positivity is what they really need.

JISOO:

Jisoo spoke about her family and her upbringing, and her general outlook, which was a new side to see. We also got a little insight about her fondness for writing or art, almost destined for the creative field. We also got to know how ill Jisoo was before the Coachella performance. She also spoke how blessed she was for having had a bit of normal life, school friends et. al, before entering the entertainment industry. That was quite interesting.

ROSE:

I think I enjoyed watching her the most. Her passion for music, her insecurities, her vulnerability, her perseverence, really showed. There was a much too brief a home video of her pajama show, and we also got to see her tinker with the demo for What You Waiting For by Somi. Her personality shined, and I genuinely feel a little closer to Rose, from what she was willing reveal about herself, more than any of the other girls. 

However, my favourite person in this entire documentary is producer Teddy Park, former 1TYM rapper, and just such a chiller. The way he described the girls, the way he interacted with them, their respect for him, and just the overall relationship they share was such a treat to watch! Also, he’s so darn well spoken. 

The girls talk about the future, at dinner, where the poor waiter reminds them and apologizes for not treating them better when they dined there during their traineeship. They talk about kids and getting married, meeting Halsey. And then poof, roll credits. What? That ended so quickly! I thought we were just getting started! That was disappointing, because there’s still so much to learn about the girls. Then again, perhaps that was the idea? To keep us Blinks wanting more!

I must say I was very pleased to see BTS also feature a little when they talk about the rise of K-Pop globally, and I thought to myself, how great it is to see that both groups are able to represent their country, their individual brands, support each other, without the baggage of competition or fan wars.

In closing, I’d like to say, it’s an easy watch, it reminds you why we love Blackpink music, makes you miss concerts, but my only complaint is I want more! I don’t think this documentary even scratched the surface of what the girls are about individually and/or together. Nevertheless, if you’re a new Blink or wanting to learn a little bit more about Hallyu and K-Pop, this could be a good introduction into that world.

[carnistirs]

retrouvailles

↳ @taangweek 2020 Day 4: Future

This one could go for past as well, but I’m dropping this today because the setting’s technically in the future. Here’s 7k+ words of Aang and Toph being soulmates.  

Read it on ao3 or under the cut

retrouvailles {French} the happiness you feel upon reuniting with someone after you've been apart for a long time

‘

“Are you alright, miss?” a voice asks, soft in the clamor of the snack aisle—

It’s violent, the way Toph’s ripped away from her little daydream, and her body’s still flinching as her eyes and ears slowly readjust to the people around her. There are no flying bisons and wingled lemurs here because they don’t exist, because she’s in a goddamn grocery store.

She tiredly lifts her gaze up – all the way up – to an angelic figure leaning over her, what with the lovely features and the bright light brimming around his shaved head. He’s all broad shoulders and lithe muscles and effulgent tattoos, and even though he looks like an incredibly kind person, something about him sets her teeth on edge. Like she should know him by now even if she’s never met this man in her life.

“Was I blocking you,” she replies, unable to help the flatness of her voice. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

Toph moves to walk around him, oddly reluctant.

“No, wait—” the guy blurts out, panicked, his nimble fingers reaching out to curl lightly around her shoulder blade—

And they say it’s like nothing else matters, that touching your soulmate for the first time is like sating a hunger you never knew you had.

She’s always thought that was a fat load of bullshit – what, you meet the stranger that’s supposed to be your other half and it’s happily ever after just like that? – but here she is, a hypocrite to her own thoughts.

Toph hones in on the warmth that’s molded around the curve of her shoulder, feeling a far too pleasant burn smear its way down her spine. She leans away from the stranger by a few inches, just to test it their limits, but fuck, it hurts. She’s met him for a total of three minutes and the sensation of not touching him already leaves her with an ache she can’t even begin to understand.

He makes a hurt noise in his throat when she leans away, jarred by the abruptness of their separation. His hands follow after her, touching the points of her elbows this time, and Toph feels the tremor in his hands, hears the quickness in his breath.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, tightening his fingers around her skin. “I know we don’t know each other, but—”

“This is so stupid,” Toph groans, but she’s slipping a palm over his wrist thoughtlessly, touching the thrum of his pulse. “Why a fucking Walmart of all places?”

Her soulmate’s mouth twitches into a smile. “Why not a Walmart?”

Because it’s the lamest place ever, she wants to say, but then she catches his smile and she stutters to a stop. She gazes at his pretty grey eyes and knows them, has seen them in multiple lifetimes.

(It’s you reverbrates in the space of her chest that used to be hollow, that used to be a void tundra.)

There’s a soulmark on her forearm now – long, golden vines with leaves that twist into the complimentary ones wrapped around his own skin, and the longer they touch, the more intertwined their vines become. It’s both thrilling and unsettling since, so far, Toph’s lived through twenty years of her life with a bare forearm.  

“So,” Toph ends up mumbling, because she knows where this is going to lead and because someone has to eventually, “your place or mine?”

‘

“Do you really think friendships can last more than one lifetime?”

“I don’t see why not.”

‘

Her soulmate’s name is Aang, a vegan pacifist whose happiness seems endless, and the while he’s chirping to her about his life like an excited hummingbird, she finds it harder to fathom why the fates specifically chose him for her.

“I’m talking way too much about myself,” he chuckles in embarrassment, pink dusting over his cheeks.

Shrugs. “I asked.”

Aang’s curled up with her on his couch – his apartment had been closer -  idly playing with one of her hands. Their tea sits on the coffee table, cold and forgotten, but she’s too stupidly inebriated with the feeling of his hands on her own to care. Toph doesn’t mind the constant touching, surprisingly. It feels so much better than anything else, and there’s this still moment where they watch his vines crawl from his fingers over to hers.

“What about you?” He’s close enough for his cheek to brush her shoulder. “Tell me about yourself? Pretty please?”

“I’m an art student,” she grins back, unwittingly, at his enthusiasm. “I go to BSSU.”

He positively beams at this. “I go there too! Why is it that I’ve never seen you around campus before?

“Different curriculum maybe?

Toph feels the heat of his gaze wandering everywhere, stiffening slightly only when it drops to the puckered skin on her right leg. “Is there a story behind this?” she hears him ask quietly, his fingers hovering over the scar, but not quite touching it.

“You’re going to think I’m fucking crazy.”

“Try me.” Aang’s isn’t sporting that bright smile anymore, but his face has softened completely. “If you want, that is. You don’t have to tell me.”

It’s strange and new and terrifying, but he’s a gentle breeze in their bond, surrounding her without suffocating her, smoothing over the points of her body that are maybe a little too rough, a little too jagged.

“Well, there’s this forest near the house I grew up in,” Toph starts, drumming her fingers along his soulmark. “I walked through it so many times that I practically memorized it. I really thought I could navigate myself through the forest blind, so I put on a blindfold—”

(The darkness doesn’t welcome her, not the way she wants it to.

Her bare feet press into the earth and she doesn’t feel the vibrations of the earth moving around her, doesn’t hear the songs of squirrels skittering up the old trees, of worms writhing in the dirt. She feels disconnected from everything, small and insignificant.

She carefully glides along the flat surface of the boulders, but misses her next step, falls down and keeps falling—)

“Anyway, now I have a permanent reminder of how much of a dumbass I was,” she says, half bemused, half self-depreciating.

But Aang opens his arms, his face silently pleading, and she hesitates a little. Her soulmate is a stranger wrapped in odd, familiar skin and when they’re pressed together, it’s like they’re speaking an old, sacred language only their bones know.

They should be in bed right now like most soulmate couples their age – or at least kissing, maybe - but she supposes she’ll fail at that too amongst other things.

So, Toph leans in, biting back a satisified hum when his arms coil around her shoulders. He smells like clean laundry and a hint of cinnamon, and when he sighs in content, she feels her muscles relax.

“I like to stand on the edges of high places,” Aang noses against her hair, probably unaware that’s he’s doing it too. “My friends can’t stand it when I do it, but I can’t help it. I never have the urge to actually jump,” he adds in a small laugh, “but I like to imagine that there would be a way for me to somehow catch myself if I do. Then I remember that it’s not possible and I feel this...incredible loss.”

An unexplainable loss you never had in the first place. Yeah, she gets it.

“Thanks.”

“Of course.” His eyes languidly trail after the uplifted bend of her mouth. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”

There’s an anxious spike of hope blooming in the pit of Toph’s stomach and it’s not coming from her. She doesn't exactly know how she knows this either, but it's all Aang she's feeling.

It’s coming from him.  

Which is ridiculous because Toph shouldn’t be able to feel him like that. Soulmates don’t work like that. There’s soulmarks and the constant need to be close, but not this invasion of other people’s emotions—

“Yeah, sure,” she says.

Everything is okay. Everything is fine.

Get a fucking grip.

‘

“Some bonds only need an hour of touching and they’re okay for the whole week,” she says at the threshold of his front door, lingering. “Maybe we’re like that? I mean, it doesn’t hurt to try, right?”

“O-Okay,” Aang stutters, brows furrowed, looking like he really wants to follow after her like an imprinted duckling.

Toph lets go of his hand then and the sharp sting she feels should have been taken as a warning. She takes a step back though, forcing herself to play dumb to his white fingers clenched around the door frame and the sudden pallor of his face.

Her fingers tingle in a particularly awful way as she waves goodbye to him and the discomfort is rudimentary, really. It’s nothing she can’t handle, considering she’s had worse done to her skin.

She makes it as far as the turn of the hallway, right when Aang’s out of her view.

Pain grips at her right arm and the numbness flares outward, careening her into the wall. She can’t fucking breathe because it feels like her lungs are being scraped out by a rusty spoon, like her ribs are being branded by hot iron—

Aang barrels into her at a frightening speed and they go teetering to the floor, but he curls his body around hers protectively, possessively, breaking her fall. He’s mouthing something frantic against the hollow of her throat, but she can’t hear it because she’s too overwhelmed by the sensation of his pain pressing down on top of hers.

Whatever she’d felt earlier is vaulting back tenfold and it’s so strange to feel her own emotions looped back to her through a feedback that’s experienced through him. She feels him desperately wanting to take away the unseen hurt throbbing in her while trying to compress his own down and, gods, this isn’t normal.

“Um,” Toph whispers, her voice trembling with her body as she clings to him. “Okay, that was a dumb idea. I’m sorry—”

“Maybe you should stay with me for a couple of days—”

She doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “We have school. How are we going to do—”

“There’s an exemption form we could fill out online. It’s for soulmates who have recently bonded. It’ll get us out of classes, just – please, please don’t leave.”

“I don’t have extra clothes on me or a toothb—”

“You can borrow my clothes. You’ll drown in them because you’re so tiny,” Aang laughs, hoarse, sliding shaking fingers into her unbound hair. “And I have an extra toothbrush you can use. We’ll figure it out, Toph, please.”

What the fuck, what the fuck—

“Alright.” She closes her eyes, surrendering herself to raw instinct by sticking her nose to the skin underneath his jaw. “I’ll stay.”

‘

“Choose well. A sky bison is a companion for life.”

He’s holding an apple in his hands and his legs are jittery – like it’s impossible for him to stay still. The baby bisons are circling their mother in the air and his breath catches because he’s never wanted anything more in his life.

There’s a small bison just a few feet away, looking like it’s waiting for him. It appears to be the runt of the litter, but that’s okay because he’s the smallest in his class too. If it accepts him, then perhaps they can grow together.

Biting his lip, he carefully approaches the small bison and offers the apple to it.

It – no, the bison is a he – sniffs the fruit along with his extended hand before opening his mouth expectantly.

He tosses the apple in and allows himself to pet the bison on the nose while the latter chews. He doesn’t expect the bison to nuzzle into his touch with a pleased rumble, but the creature does anyway, leaning too far in until he loses his balance and falls on his rear end. The bison licks at the whole of his face, pulling happy giggles from his mouth and he knows, then and there, that he’s found the one.

“I guess this means we’ll always be together,” he smiles wide, hands rubbing on either side of the creature’s muzzle—

‘

Toph blinks awake to find herself plastered to Aang’s back with both of her arms snaked around his chest. One of his hands is clasped in hers, their fingers twined, and she has a leg thrown over his hip as if she’s slept with him like this their whole lives.

His bedroom is small and simple, but there’s a slight airiness to it that reminds her of the temple in her dreams – or not dreams, apparently. She sees this temple in the sky in quick flashes while she’s awake too, and if they don’t show her in the company of monks, then it’s always with that six-legged bison.

“I can hear you thinking,” Aang mumbles sleepily.

She presses her face to his shoulder. “Shit, did I wake you up?”

“Yeah, you waking up actually yanked me out of sleep too.” Gently tightens his fingers around hers, reassures her that he’s not upset. “It’s not a big deal. What’s bothering you?”  

I think I’m seeing your memories from a past life never quite leaves Toph’s mouth.

“Nah, it’s nothing.”

And maybe that’s the wrong thing to say because Aang just turns in her hold and exhales into her neck, slipping his arms around her waist. His fingers tease the hem of a shirt that’s too big on her and he asks in a hushed tone if it’s okay. Toph nods, her skin shivering in loose delight once his palm slides underneath the shirt to splay itself flat against the small of her back.

The moonlight peeking through the curtains shows her one side of his face – the argent in his eyes, the fan of his inky lashes, the indent of his cheekbone. Objectively, he’s stunning, so she could have done a whole lot worse.  

“You know I can tell you’re lying, right?” The corner of Aang’s mouth lifts, amused. “I can feelthat something’s wrong.”

“Can we just—” Opens her mouth and shuts it, frustrated inside. He rubs his thumb in calming circles against Toph’s skin and she still doesn’t know if she likes how one touch can clear her muddled thoughts just like that. “Can we just pretend that we don’t have some weird telepathic-empathic thing between us? Just for tonight at least? Fuck, it’s a lot to unpack on the first day.”

His hurt is muffled, but it’s there and she feels it her chest, taking root. “You think it’s weird?” he whispers, sounding like an open wound.

“Doesn’t this freak you out?”

“Yes, of course it does.”

But underneath the blanket of her own emotions, she senses fear for this bond. Fear at the thought of Toph rejecting him so quickly. She tightens her leg over his hip instinctively, telling him no, she’s not rejecting him. She doesn’t think that’s even possible at this point.  

He presses a smile into her clavicle, relieved. “Do you remember dinner? When you were groaning after taking the first few bites of the pasta?”

Toph blushes. “Don’t make fun of me! I didn’t know artichoke sauce was even thing!” Or so delicious. “I was caught off guard, okay?”

“You were happy eating what I made for you and I felt that happiness,” Aang says, so soft. “It felt beautiful. You felt beautiful, Toph.”

(And I’d give you the whole world to keep you happy forever, he sings into her veins even if he doesn’t realize it yet, even if he’s just as scared and lost as she is.)

What an optimstic fool he is. “I might drive you nuts,” Toph throws back instead.

“Oh, I know you will.”

She pinches Aang’s side, cackling at his high-pitched shriek even when the sharpness of her index finger and thumb on his skin echoes against her own.

‘

“Where the hell have you been!”

“Chill, Sparky,” is Toph’s lazy response as she waltzes into her apartment, leading Aang in by their tangled fingers. “I texted you.”

“‘Be back in a week, dude’ doesn’t give me much to go by. A fucking week? You could have been dead for all I knew!”

“Stop projecting your sibling issues onto me. I’m here, aren’t I? Besides, when you found Sokka and Suki, the three of you didn’t leave your room for more than a week, you dirty hyprocrite!”

“At least you knew where I was the whole—” Zuko abruptly closes his mouth, his gaze darting to the towering man at Toph’s heels. “Aang? Wait, how do you two know each other?”

Toph lifts both their arms, showing him the fresh knitted vines gleaming on their skin. “He’s my soulmate. How do you two know each other?”

“I know Sokka and Sukki,” Aang chimes in cheerfully. “Wow, what a small world, huh?”

“How’d you two—”

“Anyway,” she interrupts brashly, not in the mood to retell their romantic, fateful meeting at Walmart, “Aang’s gonna be staying here for a week and then I’ll go back to his place for another week, and so on and blah blah. At least until the bond settles. You get it. Let us know when dinner’s ready,” she adds, practically yanking at Aang until they’re both confined in her bedroom.

Aang taps the end of her nose. “That was mean.”

“Please,” Toph makes a point of rolling her eyes. “Zuko barely said a word to me after touching the other two. They burst into the apartment like a fucking hurricane, almost doing it right there in our living room. So fucking rude.”  

‘

She’s in the shower when she suddenly feels absolute terror choking at her, nearly making her slip on the tiles.

Toph barely wraps herself up in a towel before she’s barging out of the bathroom, extremely thankful that her room’s close by. Aang’s on the floor, back leaning against the frame of her bedroom door, quivering fingers curled around one of her older sketchbooks. Aang blindly reaches for her when she approaches, pulling her down onto his lap and burying half of his face into her shoulder blade.

“Is my art that terrifying?” Toph tries to joke, but he doesn’t even smile.

The drawing had been done in charcoal, dark and blurry around the edges, and she almost doesn’t remember drawing it. There’s an enormous centipede thing crawling out of a cave, its legs reaching out to take, to steal. The only colors on the sketch are the red lips and the grey eye markings of the Noh mask it’s wearing on its face, but she’s not sure if that makes it better or worse.  

Aang’s voice is a quiet, little thing when he asks, “Where did you see this creature?”

(“My old friend, the Avatar,” the monster utters in a serpentine hiss. “It’s been a long time.”

“You know me?”

“How could I forget you? One of your previous incarnations tried to slay me,” it accuses, the white mask flickering into the face of an older man with a mustache and a long beard, “maybe eight or nine hundred years ago.”

“I didn’t know that.” It’s difficult, keeping his emotions out of both his face and voice. “Why did he – or I – try to kill you?”

The thing changes again – a beautiful woman this time, with long brown hair and familiar, sad eyes.  

“Oh, it was something about stealing the face of someone you loved.”)

“A nightmare, I think,” Toph answers carefully. “Actually, you know what—”

She rips the page out of the sketchbook and crumples it tightly in her first. It feels like an ugly omen against her palm, riddled with malice and sadism, and she chucks it into her trash can.  

“You didn’t have to do that. That was your work,” Aang murmurs, his guilt gnawing at her.

“It was a creepy-ass drawing. I don’t know what I was thinking when I drew that.” Pause. “I have better stuff on my desktop if you want to look.”

He kisses her shoulder, smiling sweetly. “I hope the creatures on there are less frightening.”

“Don’t be such a wuss. Wanna see what a badgermole looks like?”

‘

After their soulbond settles, they’ve learned that they can get through the day by themselves relatively alright as long as there was skin-to-skin contact for at least an hour beforehand. It no longer hurts to be away from Aang, but it is uncomfortable as fuck, like an itch burning inside that’s screaming at her to scratch it until it’s bloody and raw.

Which is fine.

So ridiculously fine.

The lecture is a drone in the back of Toph’s mind as she doodles along the corner of her notebook page to take her mind off the itch. The mintiness of the gum she’s snacking on ebbs away suddenly, turning into something vastly different.

She chews again, tasting raspberries, fruit juice, bananas, and...almond milk?

Aang is waiting for her outside the door when her class ends and as soon as he sees her, his entire face lights up like the sun. His content rolls over Toph in a soothing whisper and she subconsciously mimics his smile, her body humming with want.

In spite of the protesting noise she makes, Aang scoops her up in his arms until her feet are dangling above the ground. He nuzzles his cheek to hers, his breath warm against the ridge of her ear, and he twirls them once because he can’t help himself. She hisses at him to put her down, but it doesn’t really bother her as it normally would with literally anyone else.  

“Did you have a smoothie?” Toph asks.

“Yeah.” He keeps his hands pasted to her hips, his eyes bright with excitement. “I tasted the gum you were chewing earlier.”

“I want to say that I’m surprised, but am I really at this point?”

A deep chuckle as he cups her face in his palms. “Don’t be so glum. Think of all the possibilities! What if you’re really hungry, but you don’t have time to get food because you’re taking a test or something? I could eat something and you’d be able to taste it.”

“Oh, yeah, super cool. What if you’re hungry and I decide to get a hamburger?”

He blinks, his grin faltering. “I’m vegan, Toph. You know that—”

“You’re not actually eating it – you’re only getting a taste. Like you said, all the possibilities. You ever want to try a steak? Or a milkshake with actual milk?”

Toph bites back a smile, doing a poor job of concealing how much she really enjoys it when he gets all flustered.

‘

“Do you believe in reincarnation?”

“You drunk already?” Sokka passes a bemused glance at her. “I don’t remember you being that much of a lightweight.”

It’s warm in the bar – she can tell by the slight flush on Sokka’s cheeks that has nothing to do with being intoxicated – but Toph still burrows her nose deeper into the wool scarf coiled around her neck, still tightens her coat around her. Aang may be on the other side of the city, but he’s somewhere outdoors, somewhere cold, and the alcohol isn’t making her any warmer.

Aang doesn’t do well in colder weather, but he’s having fun with his friends even if he’s getting the both of them sick. She can feel him missing her, missing the press of her fingers on his skin even though they’d seen each other hours ago.  

“You have two soulmates,” Toph grumbles. “The idea of past lives shouldn’t be that fucking implausible.”

His shoulder gently bumps against hers. “I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“I’m not upset—”

“Okay, okay, let’s start over,” Sokka smiles at her, completely genuine and not at all mocking. “Why do you suddenly believe in reincarnation?”

“I have these dreams,” she says, her brows knitting together as she curls her hands tighter around her glass. “Well, I used to think they were dreams, but then I’d see something while I’m awake. They’re always about Aang in this completely different life and it’s like I’m a passenger in his body, just going through the motions.”  

“And you think these things are actually his memories from a past life.”  

Toph exhales quietly, the lines of her body losing their tautness. She feels mildly less insane now that someone’s acknowledged it for her.

“They feel too real to just be my imagination. It’s always him in the same timeline.”

Sokka hums, thoughtful. “Maybe they are his memories, Toph. Who knows? Soulbonds can’t be explained, but people accept them anyway. For what it’s worth, I believe you.”

“If this is you making fun of me, I swear to—”

“No, I really mean it! Like, if I didn’t end up with Suki and Zuko – or either of them – in a previous life and reincarnation’s just a thing that’s giving me a second chance to actually be with them, then that’s pretty cool. Fate’s doing me a solid.”

“Second chances,” Toph muses, more to herself than anything.

“Yeah, why not?” He downs the rest of his glass. “On a side note, what else are you feeling from Aang since the bond started? Something tells me you guys are...not normal.”

Toph starts to respond, but then she hunches over the counter, shoulders shaking. It slams into her out of nowhere and she has to clamp both her hands over her mouth to muffle the uncontrollable laughter. She’s yanked further and further into Aang’s joy, feeling it so keenly that the corners of her eyes begin to prickle with tears.

“What is happening,” Sokka blurts, alarmed and concerned. “Are you having a stroke—”

“One of Aang’s friends did something stupid and funny,” she hiccups out in short breaths, still guffawing. “It might – it might have been Bumi.”

Sokka gawks at her, frozen in place. He then orders another round of drinks for the both of them.

‘

Monk Gyatso lies against the wall, just bones and dust, and the omniscient rage of a thousand lives sinks down on him—

‘

The weight of his grief completely buries Toph, so much that she collapses in a public restroom. Her fingers scrabble at the tiles beneath her, desperate to clutch onto something, anything, as the memory consumes her. Something vibrates in her pocket for a long, long time, but she’s too busy screaming soundlessly into her palm to notice.

Panic slips into Toph, making her blood run cold, and the longer she ignores her phone, the more frenetic her soulmate feels—

“Toph?” is his voice on the other line, wildly frantic, when she finally answers the call. “Did someone hurt you? What’s wrong, where are—”

“I—” Her breath comes out in harsh pants. “It’s o-okay. You don’t need to come.”

Rustling, like Aang’s already preparing to step out. “No, no, that’s not what it feels like,” he argues softly, and now there’s pain in his voice because she won’t let him come to her, won’t let him take care of her—

Her chest squeezes tighter, aching. “I slipped. I’m, uh, good now.”

“Toph, please.” His voice breaks and she screws her eyes shut, tasting saltwater in her mouth. “Please let me come to you. Tell me where you are.”

So she whispers back that she’s at the tea shop near their school, the one owned by Zuko’s uncle.

Aang rushes into the women’s restroom ten minutes later – a feat in itself, considering the usual commute is twice that amount – and she’s never wanted him to see her like this, hunched under one of the sinks and sobbing over a memory that isn’t even hers.

He sucks in a sharp breath like Toph’s pain cleaves him. His eyes are red-rimmed and she can’t even look at him because she’s so sorry. She’s sorry that he’s lost his people, sorry that he’s lost his home, sorry that he’s lost his entire culture.

The way he stalks over to her is noiseless, ghostlike even, and then he’s plucking up all the bird bones of Toph’s body, folding himself around her and concealing her from the rest of the world. It makes her cry harder, if anything, to the point where she’s dry-heaving against his chest, but it helps when she pushes her hands under his shirt to touch the tight skin around his hips.

She tells him everything. That he was raised by Air Nomads in another life. That he was something called the Avatar. That they lived in a world where people could manipulate the elements as they pleased.

That they lived during a long, long war.

“You controlled the element of air first,” Toph rasps out later, when it finally doesn’t feel like her lungs are going to give out on every inhale. “You and Appa got caught in this storm, and then you did something that left you frozen at the bottom of an ocean. Katara and Sokka found you, but when you came back to the Southern Air Temple, everyone was dead and it had only felt like you left days ago, but a fucking century passed—”

To his credit, Aang doesn’t once ask who Appa is or what the Southern Air Temple is supposed to be. His heart beats faster and his skin jolts at the familiarity of her words, but he holds her still.

“Breathe, T,” he says, rocking her, sweeping her dark hair away from her neck so that he can kiss the small space behind her ear.

She does. Inhales for four seconds, exhales for six—

It’s a breathing technique that Monk Gyatso had taught Aang. Had taught her.

Their soulmarks cling to each other distressingly, her aurelian leaves and vines overlapping his.

“Do you ever dream of me?” Toph asks, calmer.

“I have many daydreams about you.” And that’s mischief slanted against her nape, rounded out by his mouth. He’s soft and playful now, making her sink further into his embrace. “When your memories come to me, I don’t actually see anything.”

Tries not to be too disappointed. “Oh.”

“No,” Aang smudges a smile against the corner of her mouth, gently thumbing a tear-stained cheek. “You were blind in your last life, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t see. You didn’t need to. You felt these vibrations in the earth and it allowed you to see and hear things no one else could. You were the greatest earthbender that ever lived.”

“She sounds way cooler than me.”

He tips her face up. “You’re just as cool as she is,” Aang breathes, and there’s a brush of lips against hers, slow and sweet. “Just as beautiful.���

(I found you again, her soul thrums out, the loudest it’s ever been inside her.)

Toph twists in his arms, chasing after his mouth. It’s almost too much and not enough at the same time, tasting his honeyed delight and feeling it mingle with her own. His hands shove themselves up her sweater to frame the space of her back as he parts his mouth, allowing her to—

“Gee, it looks like you guys are fine in here,” comes a monotonous drawl that has them breaking apart, sputtering. “And here I was, worried for no apparent reason.”

“Mai!” Aang practically yells, his ears turning beet red. “When did you – why are—”

The other girl waves a dismissive hand. “Toph and I were going over work. What was supposed to be a five-minute restroom break turned into a forty-minute one,” she adds pointedly, raising a brow.  

“Sorry,” Toph says sheepishly. “I had a thing. Like a panic attack or whatever. It’s gone now, so no biggie.”

Aang, severely disagreeing with her on that last statement, wraps her up tighter in his arms.

“We’ll continue tomorrow,” Mai says then, and it may just be Toph’s imagination, but she thinks she sees the former’s face soften a bit. “Get some rest.”  

After Mai leaves, Aang plays with her loose hair. “We should probably leave too.”  

“Yeah.”

But Toph’s leaning in, pausing only a few inches away from his lips and grinning when he automatically closes the distance. She feels that buzzing of happiness again and whether it’s his or hers, it doesn’t matter.

‘

Aang’s shoulders are still quivering as he drops shaky, open-mouthed kisses along the crease of her hip. He’s been pulled apart to pieces, beautifully and painstakingly, and the remnants of bliss still drumming within him makes it slow to put those pieces back together.

She only knows because she feels the exact same way. She feels everything.

“You’ve ruined me for anyone else.” His voice is wrecked and his lips are so kiss-swollen, but he’s still this hopelessly exotic thing sprawled between her legs. There’s an indelible glaze to his to expression that makes him look so thoroughly fucked, and when he rests his chin on her stomach and looks up at her with soft, needy eyes, something inside her chest just melts.

“Why didn’t we do this sooner?” Toph husks out with a laugh.

“Yeah, why didn’t we,” he murmurs back, still loopy, nosing the skin around her navel.  

Toph strokes her fingers along the arrow inked on his head, pulling a quiet mewl from him. The arrow tattoos on his body are the same design, the same placement – just the wrong shade of blue. These lines are darker than the ones she sees in his memories.

Maybe the effervesent, illuminating blue that once marked Aang as an airbendering master doesn’t exist in this world.

“Can you skip your classes tomorrow?” he asks.

“Why?”

His answer is a trail of wet kisses up the flat stretch of her belly. “Because I want to keep doing this.”

“Really.” Toph plays off as nonchalant, even when her heart skips a beat. “You want to render us incapable of walking by the time we’re done?”

“Toph, I don’t think I’m able to walk now,” Aang chuckles, before looking up at her from beneath his lashes, coy. “But I still want you in my bed whether we’re having sex or not. I just want you.”

His want reverbrates in the apex of Toph’s thighs and she wishes she can be as open as he is. She wants him in her bed forever, but the words become stifled in her throat, never leaving her mouth. He smiles at her though, tender and adoring, like he knows what she’s trying to say.  

She rolls them over, straddling his hips. Gratification seeps into her at the way his pupils dilate, at the way he takes her in breathlessly.

‘

He’s upset – so very, very upset – and she doesn’t know why.

Toph feels it two blocks away from his apartment and it spurs her to walk faster, to the point where she’s running.

After letting herself in, she finds Aang leaning over the kitchen counter, the stiff lines of his back obvious through his thin shirt. She leans her back against the counter and presses her elbow to the nimble fingers constricted around dark granite.

“What’s up, grumpy?”

Her soulmate breathes out noisily, his shoulders bunching forward like he’s trying to make himself much smaller than he is. He doesn’t turn to face her, doesn’t immediately trap her in his arms like he usually would after a long day apart. He leans against her though, heavy, part of him trying to disappear into the pale abyss of her skin.

“We weren’t married to each other,” Aang whispers, horrified. “I was married to someone else. A non-bender, I think. I don’t recognize her voice.”

And there’s really no point in getting angry with Aang or this mystery woman because the past is the past, but jealousy festers anyway, scratching at her bones. She tries to taper down it to keep him from feeling it, but he flinches, looking even more miserable than before.

She tries for apathy then: “So? It was in the past – a past we’re only barely starting to get details from.”

“But I was still seeing you. I had kids with this woman, but I was still sneaking around with you—”

“Okay, so I was a side chick. Whatever, that’s fine—”

“It’s not fine,” a muscle in his jaw jumps, “none of this was fine. I’m seeing this from your persepective, remember? You weren’t okay with this.”

“Why does it fucking matter?” Toph spits, a small part of her regretting it when Aang’s mouth pinches into a thin line. “Maybe we never got together. Maybe sex on the the side was our only option. Whatever the fuck we did in that lifetime, it’s got nothing to do with what we have in this one!”

(“She’s beautiful,” he murmurs, gazing down at the newborn. “Did you decide on a name?”  

“Suyin’s kind of pretty. Has a nice ring to it.”

Tightly swallows. “Toph, is she – is she mine?”

“Don’t worry about it,” the woman in bed mumbles. “It’s not your problem.”

“But—”

“I’m not repeating myself, Twinkletoes. And she doesn’t belong to anyone but me.”)

Then Aang grazes her side with feather-light hands, silently asking for permission. She’s still bristling in her skin, but he makes the frustration and shame go away with just a brush of his palms on her body.

She wants to stay mad at him, wants to stew in silence all by herself, but she physically can’t, not when he’s already made a home for himself in the space of her ribs.

Toph pulls him in with an incoherent grumble, binding her arms around his torso to anchor him back to earth because he feels like he’s going to float away. He shivers against her, mouthing soft apologies against the column of neck as he clings onto her. Even on her tiptoes, her head barely reaches his chin, but she leans on them anyway because she doesn’t want him breaking his neck trying to bury himself in hers.

“Maybe I leave my wife when our kids are older,” he says, his teeth scraping over her shoulder. “I leave her for you.”

“You really think that happened?”

“Yes,” comes Aang’s response, but even that sounds a little unsure. Like he desperately wants it to be true. The uncertainity makes him press into her until there’s no visible space left between them. “Why wouldn’t I do that for you? We’re soulmates. I don’t believe in any lifetime where you’re not always by my side.”

Toph rolls her eyes. “You’re such an embarassing idiot sometimes.”

Aang smiles, his tongue flicking against her jawline. Heat simmers at the pit of Toph’s stomach, rising languidly, and his hands are at the back of her thighs. “I need you,” he sighs, catching her mouth with his.

“I know, you dumb airhead.”  

She quickly finds herself hoisted onto the counter before she’s tipping her head back, letting him unbutton her flannel and kiss his way down—

‘

“Don’t worry,” Katara says. “We’ll find you a teacher. There are plenty of amazing earthbenders out there.”

There’s a deep wrongness in him as he stares back at Gaoling. Like he’s making a mistake by just giving up and leaving—

“Not like her.”

After he climbs onto Appa with reluctance, he doesn’t immediately lift the reins. Sometimes, there are rewards to being patient, to sitting still and letting the winds carry their answers to you. When he listens to the currents around him, he catches a flurry of hurried footsteps headed in their direction.

Delicate hope grows in his chest.

“Toph!” Happiness etches itself onto his face, wide and open, when the small girl runs out of the forest. “What are you doing here?”

“My dad changed his mind. He said I was free to travel the world.”

It’s a bold-faced lie.

But when Toph smiles, something inside his own stomach flutters wildly—

‘

“Are you alright, miss?” a voice asks, waking her, his mouth lightly tracing the curve of her ear.

“Fuck off,” Toph mumbles, still face down on the table, in spite of her fingers reaching out to rest along the nape of his neck. The taste of coffee – the strong kind – lingers on her tongue. “M’ tired. Why’d you drink coffee? And a goddamn red eye at that.”  

Aang tugs at her hair teasingly. “Because I almost fell asleep while driving over here to get you.”

“Ugh, you’re going to keep me up all night.”

“I can think of a few things we could do to pass the time,” Aang smirks, nuzzling his nose along her cheekbone. “Or, well, one specific thing actually—”

Toph snorts. “Dork.”

He snatches her up, fingers digging into her side as he drags her onto his lap. Peals of laughter escape her while he tickles her relentlessly, so much that the harder she laughs, the more she feels him eventually shaking with laughter too, amplifying the sensation. One of the campus librarians shushes them sharply and she feels Aang hiding his face into her throat to escape the blame.

“What’s that?” he inquiries out of nowhere then, reaching for something on the table—

“No snooping!” Toph hisses without any real heat, swatting his hand out of the way to shove the tiny book into her backpack.

It’s a flipbook that she’s still working on, showing Aang peacefully bending all four elements. She had originally wanted to illustrate him kicking Ozai’s ass, but she doubts he would like the violence of it, so she’d gone with this instead.

Aang perks up in excitement. “Is it for me? My birthday’s in a couple of weeks, you know.”

Rolls her eyes. “Just wait and find out, Twinkletoes.”

She stands up in an attempt to gather her things, but as soon as she does, the feeling of a thousand pins pricking at her legs washes over.

“Your legs are numb,” Aang glances over with both bemusement and sympathy, on the verge of discomfort himself. “Here, I’ll carry you.”

“Nah, let’s just wait—”

But Aang pulls her arms over his shoulders, picking Toph up until she’s literally hanging onto his back, before he grabs her backpack. She hates being picked up in any manner, but it’s a losing battle with a cheerfully persistant soulmate like him. She yanks on the lobes of his ears, but he just grins, hitching her body higher.

“Yip-yip,” Toph says.

“Do I look like a flying bison to you?”

“You’re right, that was a terrible comparison,” she replies. “Appa is obviously a hundred times better than you.”

Aang makes an affronted noise, but Toph rests her head on his shoulder blade and kisses the elegant line of his neck, placating him. The brisk air hits her face once he walks out of the library and Toph tucks her face harder into his skin.  

“I had a dream that you were looking for someone to teach you earthbending,” she whispers, wistful and smug. “You wouldn’t settle for anyone but me. Said I was the best out of all of them.”

“There’s no one else like you,” Aang replies easily, thumbing nonsensical patterns under her thighs.

He’d said that in his past life as well.

“Hey, Aang?”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t think we ended up together.” Because the snippets of his memories where he’s an adult are a lot sadder, filled with such hurt and longing. “I think we might have crashed and burned.”

Aang breath falters in her ear and he grips her harder, refusing to lose her to their past failures, to whatever broke them.

“We’ll do better this time, T.”

‘

(And they do.)

‘ [end notes: 

BSSU = Ba Sing Se University

To clarify, what's normal for soulmates in this universe - (1) soulmarks appear as soon as soulmates touch each other (2) the need to be touching - the limits of this can vary with every soulmate bond, it all just depends.

As you can see with Aang and Toph, they obviously have a lot more going on with the XD

I hope this wasn't too confusing with the way Toph was receiving Aang's memories. Anything in italics was her seeing a memory. If anything was in parenthesis, that meant that Toph experienced the memory before the present time. Let me know if the italicized text isn’t showing like it does on the ao3 link. Tumblr’s being shitty for some reason. 

If this was all confusing anyway, go ahead and yell at me]

[tsipasce]

Same Difference, ch.06

A/N:  stuffed fluff into this one like I had a shopping spree at Build-A-Bear. Well, maybe not that bad, but Overhaul was definitely a bit softer than usual if not a bit ooc. Just glad these two idiots are finally progressing... Let me know what y'all think~

Chapters: 01  |  02 |  03 |  04 |  05

AO3 | Fanfic

They agreed on a schedule of meeting on Mondays, Wednesday, and Fridays for the next 6-12 months, assuming there were not technical hick-ups to prolong the process. As annoyed and nervous as she was about having to work with him, she also couldn’t deny the sheer excitement. She’d missed the feeling of diving headlong into research, sequestering herself in a lab full of possibilities, pouring over data. She considered having to put up with her lab partner a just payment for this gift from the universe. While daydreaming about her scientific adventure, she toyed with the keychain on her phone, “One favor”… she contemplated.

A knock came at her door, bringing her back to reality. “Um yes, come in.”

“You alright in here? I was knocking for a couple minutes there.” Dr. Tanaka said from the now open doorway, concern in his features.

“Yeah, I’m great, just zoned out for a little bit. What can I do for you?”

“I think it’s more of what I can do for you…” he said sighing, closing the door behind him. “How was your coffee run last Friday?”

She cautioned a glance at him, sliding her burner phone to the side, folding her hands on her desk. “It was fine, thanks for the recommendation.”

“Anything interesting happen?”

“Nope.”

“I see.” They stared at each other a beat, before he realized he’d have to confront this head on. “You know, something strange happened at a construction site nearby after you left. No one knows what happened, but suddenly there were a bunch of nuts where there used to be a giant metal beam. Know anything about that?”

“…”

“Nanami.”

“………”

“What happened.”

“Ok, ok so I did something really dumb—surprise, surprise! Everyone gets to mess up once in a blue moon, don’t they?”

“Knew it. “He said, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “And sure, they do, but they don’t usually happen to mess up on yakuza turf.” Tanaka rebutted. He was one of the only people who knew the extent of her quirk. For a while, they worked together with him thinking all her quirk could do was clear clots. That is until she’d reassembled a patient whose legs had been shattered beyond repair after being run over by a car. There was no way she could lie about it after he’d witnessed it firsthand, but after a long talk, he understood why it was important to keep her secret.

“How was I supposed to know? I was just minding my business and I saw a guy about to get crushed. I couldn’t just ignore it. “

He sighed knowing he would have wanted her to do the same for him if he was in a bind. “Just... be more mindful, ok? No one knows that there was anyone there according to my friends at the police department, and for some reason they also haven’t heard any stirring from the yakuza in that area. I don’t know what or if you’ve gotten yourself into anything, but just be careful.”

Nanami chewed the inside of her mouth, and nodded her head, knowing he’d probably faint if he knew the extent of what transpired afterwards. “Of course,” she showed a small smile, “I appreciate you looking out for me. I’ll try my best not to let it be in vain. We good?”

He looked at her a beat longer before responding, knowing there was more to the story, but also wanting to respect his friend, “We’re good.” He replied, smiling reluctantly as he turned to leave, softly closing the door behind him.

She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, her daydream now over.

 ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 It felt like she blinked, and it was Wednesday evening. She parked in the same spot as the first time and as she got out, her burner phone vibrated.

“Hello?”

“That spot is too obvious. Park here.” He said curtly, texting her an alternate location.

She looked around but didn’t see any cameras, How does he know where I am?

“Well, thanks for the heads up. I wasn’t aware, being new to doing shady stuff and all.”

“Just hurry.” He breathed, already sounding annoyed, and the line clicking immediately after.

Rude. She rolled her eyes and parked at the location he’d sent. After walking a few minutes, she arrived at the entrance, Kurono escorting her in. They made their way to the underground labyrinth and headed in the direction of the lab. Before opening the door, Kurono broke the silence, “Good luck.”  And with that he was gone.

Walking over, she could see Overhaul’s figure at the workbenches by the whiteboard, the clicking of her boots echoing through the room until she was standing a safe distance from him.

“Good evening, Dr. Watanabe.” He greeted respectfully as though he hadn’t just hung up in her face minutes ago.

“Good evening. You’re so much more polite in person than on the phone.” Was the comment petty and unnecessary? Sure. Did she regret saying it? Absolutely not.

“Did you come to work with me or bicker?”

“I can do both,” she responded innocently. His eye twitched in irritation, just as he was about to respond, she finished,” but right now I’d like to work with you. Shall we?”

He sighed, “Let’s. First, we need to begin taking blood samples.” He motioned to a cart that had already been prepared with sterile syringes and tubes.

“Agreed. I’ll take yours first.”

He sat down, taking off his jacket and neatly rolling up his sleeve. She grabbed some fresh gloves and pulled up a chair and the cart, sitting next to him. Not wanting to trigger his mysophobia, she reconfirmed it was ok to touch him, “May I?” He cautioned her a glance before offering his forearm, before quickly looking away. “Just get it over with.”

Wait, is he scared of needles?

Refocusing she gently took his arm and fastened the tourniquet from the cart securely around the base of his bicep. As she was sterilizing the area, she noticed it was hard to keep her hand steady and looked down to see his knee bouncing nervously. He really is afraid of needles… Nanami thought incredulously. It was interesting to see someone so fearless get worked up over something so small, but she guessed there was probably a good reason for it. Either way, it would be impossible to get a sample if he didn’t sit still. He might kill her for asking this, but it was the only way.

“Hey,” she began quietly, Overhaul still fixing his eyes on a wall that was suddenly very interesting, “could you do me a favor?”

“Already acting like you’ve won before the experiment even begins. Aren’t you presumptuous?” He taunted her coolly, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

“No, not that favor--just a small one.” She cleared her throat before continuing,” Could you hum for me?”

“Do what?” Now his head was turned, and he was looking directly at her.

“It doesn’t have to be a song, just a note.” She quickly clarified.

“Do I look like a child to you?”

“Absolutely not. You’re much less cute.” She shot back, but her face held a small smile.

“That’s definitely not a widely-held belief. And the answer is no.” He replied with a specific brand of arrogance.

“Please?” she pleaded, reflexively clutching his arm closer to her chest, the closeness startling him. “I can’t get a clean insertion if you’re fidgeting like that. Just try it for 5 seconds— it’ll be like meditation.” She reasoned.

Realizing she wasn’t going to give up, he relented. Giving her an exasperated look, he turned away, focused on the wall and hummed. It came as a hesitant, low rumbling and lasted exactly 5 seconds, though Nanami found herself wishing it had lasted just a little bit longer. Afterwards, he rolled his eyes, annoyed she was taking so long.

“Could you hurry up and get this over wit—”

He stopped, watching her place a small, pink band aid with little strawberries on it over the bend of his arm.

“All done.” She said confidently.

“What the hell is this?”

“Evidence of my expertise. Also, you didn’t have any regular band aids so I had to use my own. You’re welcome.” She smiled as he returned a glare.

Rolling down his sleeve in a huff, he impatiently demanded her arm, “Give me your arm.”

Realizing she was skating on thin ice, she decided to spare him a retort and cooperated. He was firm, but not rough and quickly extracted her blood sample. It was clean and clinical. His eyes trained on her arm, he put out his hand in front of her expectantly. What is he.. oh! Not wanting to waste the golden opportunity of seeing him have to do this, she promptly handed him another band aid from her bag. Placing it firmly on the wound, the deed was done, and she did her best to stifle a smile at his mild embarrassment.

Clearing his throat, he rose from his chair and went to the whiteboard. They refocused and decided on the specific day-to-day schedule as well as how they would log and test the samples most efficiently. They needed control samples to test against and, as though it was normal to have a fridge full of mysterious blood, Overhaul nonchalantly offered his stash. Knowing better than to even ask where the samples came from, they began, quickly forming a routine.

 ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 A month of work passed by and the routine became more natural to Nanami. What was first a nerve-wracking trip to a yakuza hideout simply became a less-conventional commute to her side-project. What began as leers from the other yakuza, turned from indifference to casual hellos and then small talk. But most surprisingly, what began as a contentious partnership had evolved into pleasant tolerance.

For all his faults, Overhaul was an ideal lab partner. He was meticulous, tidy, and prompt. Even his usually grumpy disposition was dulled while they worked as she could tell he truly enjoyed burying himself deep into lab work. Comparatively, her day job was taxing and finding colleagues who hadn’t been jaded by the day-to-day seemed impossible. Coming to this lab every week was a breath of fresh air.

“Could you hand me a pipet?” He asked, stirring her from her thoughts.

“Oh yes, of course. Here.” She promptly handed it to him, resuming her work, but she could still feel his gaze.

“You seem distracted today.” He noted, turning back to continue his work.

She was a taken aback by the observation. They had made small talk before, but largely worked in comfortable silence. “Hm. I suppose I am.” She could feel him staring at her again and she looked up to see him raising a brow as though he was waiting for her to elaborate. “Well, I was just thinking it hasn’t been as awful as I expected… working with you here.”

“Oh?”

“I mean, it definitely wouldn’t be my first choice, but coming here… it’s been nice. I’ve stifled my quirk for such a long time, it’s just odd being able to openly discuss it, much less study it.”

He stared at her a beat before asking, “What caused it?”

“What?”

“What caused you to repress it?” he clarified, continuing to work. After a bit of silence, he looked over to see her open her mouth to answer then close it when the words seemed like they wouldn’t come out. Whatever the answer was, she was struggling with it in earnest. “You don’t have to answer that.”

She was shocked and appreciative of the consideration he was seemingly giving her, but didn’t want to waste the opportunity. She’d never talked about it with anyone—she couldn’t. But if anyone would understand, it would be him and she wasn’t going to pass up the chance.

“I killed someone.” She whispered gravely, staring straight down. From the corner of her eye she could see him turn to stare for a beat before resuming his task. Biting her lip, she added,” it was only temporary, but still, I killed someone.” Already feeling a portion of the weight coming off her chest at the simple admission, she continued,” I was twelve and my quirk had already manifested years before, but we didn’t know the extent of it. I had just assumed I could manipulate and reform little things, and only on non-organic matter. I mean I’d never tried it because who in the world would think to disassemble a living creature like that?” At this he gave her a look, raising his brows, “Well, at least I didn’t think to do something like that.” She corrected before continuing, the both of them working while she talked. “A boy moved next door to us and he had a quirk that manifested physically causing him to have these beautiful scales, like a dragon straight out of a fairytale. It was a bright, summer day and we were playing together in the park and I remember the scales shining and reflecting in the sunlight. I was hypnotized. I found myself wondering ‘What could they possibly be made of?’ The next thing I knew I was reaching out and the second my fingertip made contact I—I …” she was now shaking at the memory of it, gripping the pipet so tightly it might break. Suddenly, she felt a gloved hand gently place itself on top of hers while another coaxed her fist to open, releasing the now-dented tool. Clearing her throat she tried steadying her breath and met his gaze. It was placid and if she didn’t know any better, soft. He slowly removed his hand from hers, putting the pipet to the side to fix later.

“Continue.” He instructed as he replaced his gloves, but she could hear a sliver of encouragement in his tone.

“… I disassembled him. There was blood everywhere and I panicked. All I could think about was how badly I needed to put him back together and then... it happened. He was back in front of me, fully formed as though nothing had happened… But something had happened, and nothing would be able to change that. He ran home screaming that I was a freak. A monster. I never saw him again and my parents decided it was best to limit me and rebrand my quirk as simple ‘object manipulation’~. The rest is…history.” I said it. She thought sighing a breath of relief. Even if he thought less of her for it, she knew she would be alright, at least having been able to speak about it once. She’d accept the consequences and ridicule, whatever they were.

“You made a mistake. It’s over now.”  He said matter-of-factly as he continued working like she hadn’t just shared one of her darkest secrets.

Staring at him in shock, she realized this was his way of comforting her. Was it sociopathic and a little too dismissive of adolescent homicide? Sure. But she couldn’t deny how nice it was to not be judged for the first time. Here in this lab with him, it was just a small piece of her past, a piece of data for their research. Here, she was more than just that incident and for that, she would forever be grateful.

She felt tears well up but didn’t let them fall. Instead she picked up the pipet and some tools to fix it, before simply replying “Thank you.”

He nodded and they continued to work, the silence a little more comfortable than before.