#this is an extremely messy rant...

[en-stbc]

i've seen enough people crying over this uzi sacrifice scene in ep7 but i don't think enough people actually analyzes esp uzi and N's character (atleast from what i've seen??) and my god i need to rant because this scene the more i watch it the more it ABSOLUTELY destroys me (save me nuzi save me...)

messy rant incoming...

alright, quick recap of the characters so i can later explain my points better

pilot uzi had no one to rely on, treated as a freak by her community, neglected by her father and overall completely isolated with the world. She had no one but herself, that's why she never allows herself to show any vulnerabilities so people won't take advantage of her and literally dismisses her own feelings and coping mechanisms as "angsty hormonal teen feelings" and developed a inferiority complex of wanting to prove herself and be recognized. Meeting N was more than just a change of trajectory in her life, he helped her in so, SO many ways from making her realize that her feelings are validated and it's okay to lean on others when you need it the most, to be vulnerable- something that she desperately needed but was never provided- to helping her just.. overall improve herself and promise that he'll always be there when she needs him the most. N is so integral in uzi's life, all she needed was someone to understand her, and there he was.

meanwhile N is always treated as a worthless nobody by people around him which is very evident in the pilot with his interactions between J and V. He clearly has issues when it comes to his own self worth and completely robbed of autonomy. All he ever wanted was to be useful and seen by others, which leads to him going along with other's insane crazy ideas without questioning morals and rights or wrongs. Uzi was the one that helped him find a ground he can stand on and finally being able to defend himself and what he thinks is worth protecting, as well as being a genuine friend he can finally talk and bond with after being ignored for so long.

and back to the scene. The reason why this scene hurts so much for me is that uzi finally found someone so important to her that she's willing to sacrifice herself and thanked N for "everything" he's ever done. He gave her everything that she could possibly ask for, she was content. Uzi even used her solver powers to push N away to make sure he wasn't in danger or an attempt to save her. The fact that she even thanked N, making it sounds like her final words to him implies that she was okay with dying and giving up her own life just really says how much N meant to her. She couldn't have done all of this without meeting him, to be selfless and sacrifice yourself for someone you truly love.

for N he's probably absolutely devastated, especially after V's sacrifice the ep before. Both of his closest friends sacrificed also for the sake of saving him, he literally could not do anything but watch them disappear in front of him. He'd probably blame himself so much for failing to save them and the fact that he has self harm tendencies every time he makes a mistake... N is definitely VERY TRAUMATIZED from this and also needs time to heal as well.

overall im very normal about nuzi these 2 will be the death of me i love them so much. both of them meeting each other was the best thing that ever happened to them and watching them grow and develop is so 😭😭😭

have a good day thank you so much for reading this very messy rant and bare with my very limited vocabulary if you did... ;3

[asmodeusamaryllis]

Chat I'm so fucking embarrassed

[fitzrove]

I keep talking about d*rk ac*demia but like. I just want to read another TSH book... but a different book XDD unfortunately none of the popular staples of the genre satisfy that, because the themes in those are all wonky - it feels more satisfying to look for those themes elsewhere (in other genres of books)... but i want more campus novels... I almost want to write one myself but I only have a setting and some characters in mind, no plot (= events) or anything to say (= theme)

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

“boys will be boys”

“boys will be boys”, which isn't true at all, because when isagi yoichi was still just a little boy, he always held your hand when you were scared, and helped wipe the dirt and grime off of your knees when you tripped.

“boys will be boys”, which isn't true at all, because when bachira meguru was still just a little boy, he always defended you from bullies--even if they hurt him instead--, and always told you it didn't hurt even when it did.

“boys will be boys”, which isn't true at all, because when chigiri hyoma was still just a little boy, he never argued with you or complained and even allowed you to touch and play with his hair if you asked him politely.

“boys will be boys”, which isn't true at all, because when kunigami rensuke was still just a little boy, he always held your stuff, whether it's your backpack or thick library books, without complaint and with a smile.

“boys will be boys”, which isn't true at all, because when barou shouei was still just a little boy, he helped you cleanwhen it was your day for classroom cleaning duty, and always helped organize your extremely messy desk.

“boys will be boys”, which isn't true at all, because when mikage reo was still just a little boy, he always bought you whatever you wanted, and let you have whatever expensive item of his you wanted as long as you liked it.

“boys will be boys”, which isn't true at all, because when nagi seishiro was still just a little boy, he let you play on his video game consoles, and he never got mad at you even if you dropped it and cracked it.

“boys will be boys”, which isn't true at all, because when itoshi rin was still just a little boy, he always bought you his favorite lottery ice cream on every occasion. whether you passed your test, your failed your test, you get an ice cream.

“boys will be boys”, which isn't true at all, because when michael kaiser was still just a little boy, he always pushed you on the swings at the park and listened to you rant, even if he just recieved an exhaustive beating from his father and couldn't even talk.

“boys will be boys”, which isn't true at all, because when alexis ness was still just a little boy, he always visited you when you were sick and told you about magic and his favorite folklore and fantasy stories to cheer you up.

so did i ever tell you guys how much i fw blue lock boys and the childhood best friend trope??? well, a lot.

[strawberry-pretzels]

hope \ don't get paranoid again bro

[skyeistrying]

🖤Sevika HCs🖤

just random sevika hcs. broken up into categories for general, romantic, and nsfw headcanons respectively.

i didn’t try very hard while writing this, so my writing is probably subpar here but…yolo.

im in love with sevika so i add to this like every day …

men dni. minors dni. men dni. minors dni.

safe for enby lesbians. ♥️

general

* raging butch lesbian 🧡🤍🩷.

* her place is messy but in an organized chaos sort of way.

* she smells like cigar smoke (in a good way), leather, peppery mahogany, and a hint of something sweet.

* collects bottle caps. i can’t explain it, i just have a feeling she would!!

* extremely interested in Zaun’s history. she wont go into a full rant about it but she’ll drop interesting facts about it occasionally.

* has very, very cool, gay aunt vibes!!!

* cat person. just imagine her carrying a sweet little kitty with a sweet little smile on her face.

* actually an excellent cook.

* snores… hacks in the morning like a dad.

* before she lost her dominant arm, her hand writing was neat, very bold, and she wrote exclusively in all caps. she’s relearning her penmanship now.

* very heavy handed.

* completely quit smoking after she got a spot in piltover’s council and hardly drinks anymore.

* her carabiner is on the left side. she keeps the basics on it, so just her keys and one or two old key chains she has.

* in a modern au she would be into classic cars and the process of restoring them. her dream car is a 1970 mustang boss.

* on the topic of vehicles i can see her as a biker too. like, imagine seeing her taking off that helmet … swoon! imagine being her backpack … SWOON AGAIN!!!

romantic

* i feel like she doesn’t do romance very often, if at all. so you are one lucky ducky!

* it’s a lot for her to get used to so things develop slowly. patience is key here. she isn’t used to having someone really care about her, let alone love her.

* she’s pretty standoffish and awkward in the beginning. some might say stilted. she never really saw herself having a partner.

* just be patient with her and let her come to you.

* loves hugging you from behind

* if you’re with her at the last drop, she has her arm around you constantly. if it’s not that, she’s having you sit on her lap.

* she isn’t the jealous type at all. she knows that if you’re with her, if she choses you, she has nothing to worry about. if your loyalty to her falters, you’ve got a big storm coming.

* while she isn’t jealous, oh, boy, is she possessive. very big difference between those two. she’s also fiercly protective.

* got a creep flirting with you at the bar? she lets it be known that you are taken very quickly. is at your side in a second flat, arm wrapping around you all while staring daggers at the perpetrator.

* this woman is a capital F Flirt. will talk you up one side and down the other like it’s nothing. if you’re just someone she happens to lock eyes with at the bar, you guys could go back and forth with flirting and banter.

* BUT if you and sev have been together for a bit flirting can get her flustered from time to time. you know *just* what to say to her to make her short circuit a little bit. no one can get under her skin the way you can. /pos

* calls you baby. if you’re a femme, she calls you her femme. also fond of calling you “pretty baby”.

* surprisingly soft lips.

* kissing her feels like a dream. slow and sweet and sensual. complete with a warm hand on the side of your face or settled on your hip.

* sevika prefers a partner who can take care of themselves. after all, she’s a busy woman and she can’t always come to your rescue.

* her giving love language is acts is service. need something fixed? in classic butch fashion, she’s absolutely got you covered. do you drink coffee or tea in the morning? she’s got a cup ready for you in the morning, *just* the way you like it. she’ll do anything for you when she’s got the time.

* her receiving love language? words of affirmation. she likes to know that you think she’s *good*. that she’s doing a good job and that you see that.

* loves having her hair played with and her scalp massaged. if you have long nails it’s like a dream for her.

* would be so fucking whipped for you. you’re on her mind all the time. smiles when little things make her think of you. memorizes every little detail about you every chance she gets.

* actions over words. don’t expect crazy love letters or monologues about how much you mean to her. she shows how much she loves and cares for you almost entirely through actions.

* most likely wakes up before you and sits there for a little bit just to memorize every tiny little feature about your face. she never wants to forget what you look like.

* she doesn’t have a type. like, at all.

nsfw

* stone top. there. i said it. no questions. no ifs, ands, or buts.

* nipple piercings 🙈.

* oh, she is eating that thang. this woman is a munch. she would know just how to lick or suck you to make you come before you know it. it’s a very personalized experience.

* she learns you inside and out. knows every. little. thing that makes you tick.

* vocal. like, as in, she talks. she’s dirty about it too. all “oh, yeah? you like that baby?”, “be good for me, i know you can take it”, “mmm, taste so fuckin’ good for me” or “i know what’s good for you, now fucking take it”. she talks you through it every time.

* kisses it after she eats it. :)

* weewooweewoo WE GOT A MAN HANDLER OVER HERE!!!! she will move you every which way, any way she needs you to be. if you’re flexible, she absolutely has fun with that.

* has a collection of straps. different strokes for different folks, am i right?

* will sex you with sensual r&b playing in the background.

* touching on one of her receiving love languages being words of affirmation …

* she loves to be praised.

* it’s something she would never explicitly ask you to do. it’s a subtle thing.

* it’s in the way she short circuits when you tell her how good she’s doing, how good she makes you feel. you can tell she likes that, knowing that she is good for you, in the way her hands tremble or her hips stutter or, if she’s going down on you, the way her eyes go soft.

* she will fuck you senseless and then be so, so sweet on you after. makes sure you’re taken care of, that there’s something for you to drink, has towels ready for you incase you don’t feel like showering for a while after you finish. seriously, it’s like two different people.

okay thats it. i am obsessed with this woman and just wanted to share some headcanons i had for her while i finish up a fic i’m trying to write🎠.

cant believe my first writing here was some random hcs but whatever!!!

requests currently open for multiple fandoms, including arcane :).

dividers by cafekitsune

[ink-n-shadow]

after the day i’ve had, i’m thinking about owner!ghost just taking care of me)):

NO MORE TEARS

𝜗𝜚 the one where you have a bad day and owner!ghost is more than happy to take care of you

𝜗𝜚 pairing: owner!ghost x puppy!reader 𝜗𝜚 cw: no explicit smut but allusions to smut themes (so minors—DNI). obvious dom/sub dynamics, pet play, mentions of collars, subspace in play but not explicitly mentioned, sweet!owner!ghost, very self-indulgent work, unedited as usual

owner!ghost knows as soon as you fumble your way through the front door of your shared flat that you’d had a bad day. he can see it all over your face—the way your eyebrows are furrowed and pinched in the middle of your forehead, how the corners of your lips are tugged down, posture slumped and eyes blinking sleepily over at him.

his hands are on you as soon as he crosses the living room to meet you at the door, pushing loose strands of hair away from your face and letting his thumbs sweep gently across the planes of your cheeks. “there’s my pretty girl—y’ alright? did’ya ‘ave a bad day, baby?”

and ghost lets you get it all out of your system, listening to you rant and rave all the while running his hands up and down your arms in a soothing attempt to quell the rising tide of emotions inside of you. as the tears begin welling in your lash line, his thumb reaches up to brush gently against the necklace you always wear around your neck.

to the outside world, it looks like a simple piece of jewelry, small gold rectangular links (or silver links, depending on your metal preference) looped infinitely around your neck with no clasp. forever locked around your throat—well, at least until ghost decides it's time for you to get a new one, then he's got you kneeling between his thighs and gently snipping the necklace from your throat just to weld another one on the very next day.

the slight brush against the necklace is enough to have a hiccuping sob rip from your chest, lurching forward instinctively and burying your face into the soft wool covering ghost's chest.

"shhh, shhh—s' alright, baby. no more tears, hmm? you're 'ome now," and owner!ghost is immediately sweeping you up in his arms, one hand secured beneath your bum and the other buried in your trestles of hair. “lemme take care of ya, yeah? make it all go away?”

words seem to escape you now, the stress and panic and dread from the day melting away from you as soon as you’re wrapped up in ghost’s arms. an almost pitiful whimper leaves your mouth in response, sounding almost unhuman as it exits your lips and melts into the air around you.

but it doesn’t deter owner!ghost or make him worried—no, he’s become quite acquainted with that kind of noise.

“s’fine, pup. y’ know ‘ow to ask me,” ghost murmurs softly into your ear as he slowly begins moving the two of you down the hallway towards your bedroom. there’s a soft curl of his lips when he feels the way you nose at his jaw twice, a signal he was all but extremely aware of. and once owner!ghost enters the bedroom, he’s setting you down onto the floor, careful not to bruise your knees as he helps you into a kneeling position before him.

ghost cradles your face in the palm of one of his large hands, thumb catching the stray tears dripping down your cheeks as a gentle smile stretches his lips at the way your teary eyes stare up at him adoringly. he can see the imaginary tail between your legs wagging slightly, hesitant to get too excited before being given permission.

“you’re absolutely sure, baby? more than ‘appy to just talk everythin' out while we have a cuddle,” ghost asks one last time, eyebrow quirked and expression as serious as his tone of voice. he always did one last check, one last verification that this is what you needed in that moment. and the second your chin dips down in a firm nod and the word ‘yes’ slips from your tongue, owner!ghost is slotting his lips against yours in a possessive and slightly messy kiss, keeping a firm grip on your cheeks to push your lips into a pout. once he pulls away and leaves you feeling dizzy, he pats your cheek firmly, gesturing to the end of the bed.

“be a good dog ‘nd find yer collar for me, then.”

©️ ink-n-shadow 2024

do not copy, plagiarize, steal, borrow, or repost any of my work without my expressed permission

[bluesunss]

Goldfish memory Choi Su-bong x F!Reader

part 2

summary: after witnessing your (ex-)boyfriend cheating on you (and making no effort to hide it), you go to a fast-food place and complain to the cashier. but that random man is a way better listener than your stupid ex ever was, and you find yourself ranting to that hot stranger.

warnings: not really a warning, but reader is extremely blunt, tactless and messy. not in a bad way, just a big blunt mess. swearing, mentions of cheating

a/n: sorry for being inactive :( ill try to update my main stories this weekend but here is a filler episode to make up for it. also McRonalds bc we boycott here ! btw not proofread im super tired #help

The lights of the cheap McRonald at the end of the street kept flickering to death, neon red bleeding into the puddles on the pavement. The rain fell in slow slivers, barely there but still making the hairs on your arms rise. You sneezed, walked faster and reached for the handle.

Your mind was a wreckage site. The sterile light immediately woke you up, it was so late. The smell of frying and salt hit your face, it got warmer and greasier. Scanning the screens, you found them all taken, and you muttered an insult. The cashier was tapping on the screen, his lips moving silently as if talking to himself, and he had an AirPod in.

He wouldn’t hear you. You needed to vent. That is why you slammed your hands onto the counter.

“I just think,” you announced, “that if you’re gonna cheat, at least try to fucking hide it."

The boy behind the register barely looked up from the screen, swaying his head slightly to the music you could hear from here. His name tag read Su-bong, his hair under his cap was too bright for this night, a flashy purple tousled on the edges of a fluffy brown mass, and you spotted silver piercings on his ears as well as a black line going up his coloured fingers. He looked familiar, but you had no time for familiarity.

“You okay girl?” he asked, finally looking at you when you said nothing, pulling out an earbud.

“Fucking great," you snapped. Anger and exhaustion coexisted within you and you broke down. "My boyfriend decided to raw-dog some girl on MY couch in MY house. When I opened the door, he saw me, but that asshole kept going until he finished. Only then did he fall to his knees and beg. After he was done."

You squint your eyes in disgust.

"He said it ‘just happened.’ Like he tripped and fell into her y’know."

Then, you stare suspiciously at the cashier. Gladly, it’s late, and there is no one standing behind you, the people are ordering at the machines. His dark eyes are surrounded by a blue orbit, and eye bags make the dark circles pop. He puts down the earbud, stops tapping on the screen.

Letting out a low whistle, he finally taps at the register. “That’s rough, señorita. Wouldn’t wish that on myself."

“No, rough is the fact that he had the audacity to send me a voice note crying about it,” you continued, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Like he’s the victim. Like I put him in that situation. You ever seen a grown man sniffle out a ‘baby please’ while he’s got another girl’s press-on nails still clawed into his shoulder?”

That got a real reaction. Su-bong barked out a laugh, pressing a hand to his chest like he’d been shot.

“Oh, that’s tragic.”

“That’s pathetic.”

He was still grinning when he turned around, grabbing a large soda cup and filling it, before taking a loud sip from it.

"So what’re you gonna do bout this cheating narcissistic little bitch?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean if I were you, I’d light his pants on fire. Or maybe steal his dog. Or… nah that’s breaking bro code. Don’t break his PS5. That’s too mean."

"Oh. Good ideas."

He shook his head and sipped again from his coke. "Nah. Y’know what breaks any man more than revenge? Nothing. Do nothing and walk away like a proud bitch. That makes us want to go on all fours and beg."

You laughed, hand brushing his arm instinctively. Keen on physical touch, that seemed to shine the cashier’s eyes who was already in another dimension. He stared at you an instant before straightening again.

"Why are you even helping me?" Your laugh died down, the ghost of a smile on your lips.

“Because my night’s already shit. And a pretty girl’s whining bout a shitty guy. What a way to score a goal on some fine shit."

Your heart, that had calmed down since the awful stress the visual sight from earlier had put on you, sprinted again. You were dizzy, it was late. His gaze locked with yours, tired. Absentmindedly, your fingers touched his forearm, and he let you there. Stroking circles, you watched the way his breath hitched and the way his eyes stared at your eyes. Those eyes. Those tattoos. This purple hair.

"Hold on. I know you."

The instant broke. He pulled his arm away, turned back to the register, lips curling, self-deprecating. “’Course you do babygirl. Everyone does." He sighed, took a sip of his drink. "’Specially after last week."

You leaned in. “You’re Thanos.”

His expression didn’t change. He slightly furrowed his brows, removed a piece of fry from his teeth and swallowed it. His elbows were now propped on the counter as your meal was getting prepared behind, and he was awaiting a reaction.

“My ex loved you,” you said. “Wouldn’t shut up about your freestyles. Played them in the car. I hated it.”

Su-bong blinked once. Then, instead of looking offended, he let out a short, dry laugh. “Wow. Brutal.”

"Fucking hell each time I’d hear your voice I thought I was going MAD. If we were fighting, he’d blast your hit song ‘break ur bones not my heart’ or whatever that was. If I complained about any minor inconvenience he’d slam into my ears ‘bitches get mad when they know I’m right’. Man, even after he cheated he sent me a Spotify link to your ‘ain’t nothing better than make up sex."

You were not exactly known for your tact. That is why Su-bong was biting his lower lip at a loss of words. He got criticism. Lots of it. But he’d usually get told his music was just plain amazing or shit. No explanation. He awaited the continuation. You were seemingly lost in your raging anger.

"Your rap isn’t totally bad though," you remarked. "Just-"

“Just?”

You sighed, debating whether you should keep talking. But you were too far in.

“Sometimes it felt like you relied too much on your flow to carry you. Like, you’d have these really good setups, and I’d be waiting for the punchline, and then it wouldn’t land as hard as it could have. Like you were holding back, or playing it safe. I mean I would appreciate some of the things my ex played in my ears, but I’d never tell him."

He didn’t say anything right away. Just tilted his head slightly, considering.

Then: “That’s actually solid criticism.”

You shrugged. “Whatever." Then, you looked over his shoulder. "I’m hungry! When’s my food coming?"

Su-bong looked back too, before standing. "Girl I think you forgot to order."

That made you smile. He watched you, amused, as you made a motion similar to pouting, observing the menu. "Triple cheeseburger. Lots of fries and pickles. And sauce. Extra spicy."

Su-bong tilted his head. "That’s all for you tonight señorita?"

You bit your lip again, let out a quiet ouch. "I think so. Oh, maybe add sparkling water."

He smirked. "Not many people go for that."

You didn’t answer immediately, pulling out your card from the mess in your bag as two lipsticks fell and rolled to the ground as well as bills. Muttering insults, you knelt and grabbed your stuff, finally exhaling.

"Yeah I’ve never tried it before. Just first thing that came to my mind. I don’t wanna think of the shit in my apartment. Fucking hell, he stained my couch with his sweat and another woman’s. That’s so disgusting!" You kept swearing, scanning the card. It kept declining and you almost crumbled in despair.

The cashier chuckled pitifully. "Don’t worry it’s on me. Tonight."

You half-smiled. "You’re broke. I saw the last rap battle. Actually, my ex kept replaying it and saying it was rigged and you didn’t forget your own lyrics."

If he was embarrassed, he did not show it. He called someone from the back and gave them your exact order. "See? The memory of a goldfish."

"Gold fishes have shit memories. It’s elephants."

He laughed. "I know babe. Been testing you."

Your meal came. His fingers brushed against yours as he gave you your cardboard bag, he stared at you a second too long.

is not proofread I’m exhausted I need sleep

[batsovergotham]

also!!! sometimes looking for mark grayson x reader fics you find like two types of fics, theres little to no in between. 1) main mark grayson being a sub or a whiny switch (more sub than switch) 2) EVERY OTHER MARK VERSION being like a super dom, violent, angry, want to have sex and its not like ashamed of it and he is degrading the reader ALWAYS, like his dominance is based on mistreating the other person. now theres nothing wrong with like dark romance or those sex dynamics, but how can they be perceived so differently from each other? like they are THE SAME PERSON, yes they went through different things but HOW (sorry if its messy, english its not my first language!!) - 🫧

another mark characterization rant below LMAOOO

no you’re so right. i think about this a lot too. like somehow mark’s characterization splits into two extremes online and people act like there’s no middle ground. it’s either “he’s a pathetic crying baby who gets bossed around” or “he’s an angry violent dom who only knows how to degrade and humiliate reader” and that’s it. no nuance. no complexity. even though, like you said, they’re literally the same person underneath.

like yes, omni mark, mohawk mark, viltrumite mark went through different shit. they’re darker. more ruthless. but the core of him doesn’t just evaporate. he’s still a person who cares deeply, who wants love even if he’s scared of it, who feels guilt, who wants connection. he doesn’t suddenly become a sadistic asshole who only knows how to fuck mean just because he got traumatized. and same on the other end regular canon mark isn’t some fragile little kitten who gets overwhelmed by air. he’s stubborn as hell. aggressive when he needs to be. when he loves, he loves hard. when he wants you, he wants you.

and honestly it’s part of why i write him the way i do yeah, he can be soft, desperate, even submissive sometimes, but because of context. because he’s scared to lose the reader. because he loves her enough to let go of control as long as she stays. not because he’s naturally this permanently helpless thing. and when he’s dominant? it’s not cruel. it’s not about degrading or dehumanizing her. it’s about protectiveness, affection, wanting to drown her in how much he needs her.

SPOILERS BELOW

the fandom acts like mohawk mark just stopped feeling when eve died. like he turned cold and stopped giving a shit and just became evil. he didn’t. he loved her so much it broke him. he never moved on, he just tried to fill the hole with women who looked like her. made them dress like her and look like her. it wasn’t about power, it wasn’t even about wanting them. it was about missing his girlfriend so bad he couldn’t go on without her. people think when mark gets dark he stops being human. no. he still feels everything, he just feels it wrong.

people love calling mark a crybaby but they don’t even fucking get it. he doesn’t cry over nothing. he doesn’t fall apart every time something goes wrong. when he cries, it’s because the world gutted him. eve leaving him wasn’t just “sad” it destroyed him. one of the only times we see him actually cry really cry (in non serious events) is when he loses her. and it’s not loud or performative, he was legitimately BEGGING for her back. but fandom looks at that and acts like he’s weak. like he’s this pathetic soft boy who can’t handle life. no. he handles everything until it fucking breaks him. and even then, he still gets back up. that’s not weakness. that’s his strength.

mark’s a good guy, but that doesn’t make him soft. it doesn’t make him a crybaby. when it matters, he’ll fight, he’ll hurt people, he’ll kill if he has to. protecting his family comes first no matter how bloody it gets.

he was devastated when his dad got hurt/killed by thragg. crushed. but he still had the strength to grab thragg and fly them both into the fucking sun just to try and avenge his dad to make things right. even when it broke him, even when he knew it might not be enough, he never stopped fighting for the people he loved.

not to be that gatekeepy person AGAIN, but sometimes it really feels like people didn’t read the comics or watch the show when they write mark. crazy how the fandom can watch mark go through literal hell, love people so much it breaks him, fight until he’s half dead for his family, and still come out thinking he’s just some whiny little crybaby or a heartless asshole. like did we even read/watch the same story? or did you just skim the sad parts where he has a legitimate reason to cry and call it a day. but yeah go off and turn him into a weird fanon caricature if that’s easier i guess.

also your english is perfect don’t even worry about it at all, you explained yourself so clearly. i’m so glad you sent this because i think about it every time i scroll through the tag LMAOOO.

[lackadaisycats]

I’m getting really curious on the whole seemingly complex situation that is Mitzi’s romantic relationships.

Cause like, we got Zib, we got Atlas, AND we got Wick!

As far as I’m understanding Zib and Mitzi was like a situationship?? Or maybe just an unofficial relationship from teens to early twenties?? Like they have history together!

But then Atlas comes in and Mitzi kinda leaves Zib for him? Like did she just lose feelings for Zib all together and now only sees him as a friend in the current timeline?

WHATS THE LOVE STORY THERE??

Was there a messy breakup type ordeal??

Then theres Wick! Who I’m unsure if Mitzi does or doesn’t have genuine feelings for!

Cause like, her husbands been dead for a year? And now she’s smooching around with Wick? I can’t tell if this is simply a tactic Mitzi’s using to keep Wick wrapped around her finger or not.

Not that she’s doing it out of malicious intent! It’s clear she feels guilty when she had to use Wick. All things will go into deeper shit if she doesn’t have Wick around! So maybe she’s playing his heart to keep him around because she is extremely dependent on him money wise?? Or does she have actual feelings too??

Girlie has three (or more) men smitten by her! But does she feel the same way in return? I’m pretty confident she did at least have real genuine feelings for Zib in the past! But did she actually love Atlas or was it a marriage of convenience? Or Wick! Is it only a tactic to keep him around as long as possible or has she also had some feelings for him that she’s now partially showing cause her husbands been dead for a year!

Her love life looks so complex! I feel like she needs a drink with how many men seem to be into her at the same time!

sorry for the slight rant and multiple questions 😭

It is indeed messy and complicated, but I can't think of many romantic relationships that don't have some chaos woven in. Even taking account of meaningful, non-romantic relationships in my own lifetime with friends or family, "It's complicated" is an apt descriptor. She and Zib had a past, yes. There were definitely feelings involved, but the structure of the relationship was uncommitted and wishy-washy. Then some things happened that caught Zib by surprise. For indicators as to how Mitzi felt about Atlas, well, take into consideration that she still speaks to his portrait. You can maybe find some clues about the nature of their relationship in things that Zib and Mordecai say in Volume 2 of the comic. As for Wick, I hope it's clear there's at least some mutual attraction there. Mitzi's got her priorities, though, and Wick is actively trying to sort out exactly what his feelings are and where he draws a line in the course of the comic. Really, details are meant to unfold gradually in the story to paint a fuller picture of the past. Things you surmise about it and conclusions you draw (even if they don't ultimately line up with canon) are likely to be far more interesting than whatever dry explanations I could provide here, though.

[quirekey]

Hi can I request for B-127 and femme s/o who have a same vibes of Jessica and Roger Rabbit.

This is a cute one, especially with the vibes!!

[ BUMBLEBEE ] x [ FEM!READER ]

[ bumblebee x cybertronian!female!reader ]

[ based on TFONE after Megatron leaves ]

- The dynamic is almost immediate you can point out when you look at the two of you. You are a tall, muscular looking femme. You definitely look fit for a mech more than a femme. Then you got Bumblebee, a somewhat chubby looking mech that is purely round. It looked like a girlboss x twink type of dynamic!

- Bumblebee definitely loves being touched, cuddled and carried by you! You are one hella strong femme and he adores that so much. He makes it obvious that he wants you to give him so much love. He always brings his arms up and opens and closes his hand, indicating that he wants what he calls ‘uppies’.

- Bumblebee is capable of being independent, like, very. He is a part of the government so of course he can be independent, he just likes being helpless! Acting like he always needs to be saved by you when something happens. It may get annoying but it is definitely cute.

- You are the type of person to wax and wash very often. You love your looks, how deceivingly good you looked compared to others femmes. You weren’t the type of person to be complimenting yourself but you do enjoy your self-appreciation, Bumblebee only helps more. He showers you with compliments and speeches on how cool you are. He’s always affirming your actions and is always by your side, even if it is your fault.

- Bumblebee can be pretty whiny when you don’t give him what you want. You usually tend to spoil him quite a bit, but it does get tiring at times. Sometimes you may go out too much and recharge for too long and Bumblebee will start crying and whining, wanting you to pay attention. It’s adorable so you just have to give in.

- When you do give in, he becomes extremely lovesick and flustered when you start hugging and complimenting him. You do adore him and Bumblebee can’t help but love you; worship you with his spark.

- You prefer to give him many small kisses all over his face-plate, thank Primus you cybertronians don’t wear lipstick or it would be messy! Bumblebee gets extremely flustered and would giggle, but mostly also be embarrassed.

- PDA? YES! Bumblebee really loves to show you off like you are the matrix of leadership. He would go around, force you to carry him bridal style and go around Cybertron. He’d stick his tongue out because they don’t get to have you, bragging all about how cool you really are. You are definitely hesitant but oblige.

- When you guys go on dates, Bumblebee is usually the one to set it up. He would try his hardest to make the date look fancy, romantic and special just for the both of you. The date usually ends up turning into a fun time to rant to each other, listening to fun music and playing around. You both never took dates or romance too seriously, it was just the thought and time you guys gave each other that really mattered between the two of you.

- You are definitely a slow romantic and Bumblebee is a fast romantic! You wanna take things slow, experience everything and realise that every single action and word you guys say to each other goes down so deep that it plants just a small piece of affection and love in both of your sparks. Bumblebee just wants to take things fast and go immediately to the fun and lovey dovey stuff! Though you both have different opinions, you both are somehow able to adjust, you guys are so silly :3

[miamooooo]

loser chris who wants to get with you soo bad. ever since you got paired in a study group together for the college class you both share, he hasn't been able to keep his eyes off of you! the only problem is that he's slightly inexperienced, awkward, and doesn't know how to tell you how he feels. one day you go to his dorm to grab some notes for an assignment, and what starts as a quick and casual visit, turns into something entirely different.

(warnings): lowercase intended, nsfw, reader has female anatomy, dry humping, chris ends up cumming in his pants, might be a lil ooc but fuck it we ball, kinda proofread, please don't read if any of this is triggering!!

chris sat at his desk, leaned back in a chair, his phone in hand while scrolling through yet another manga panel he found on a random website that definitely wasn't legal. his hair was covered by a hood, his hoodie slightly oversized for his lean body, and his glasses kept sliding down his nose. if josh, his frequently absent and scheming roommate, wasn't busy trying to get him to go out with him, then this was just a typical evening for chris. well, that, and trying not to think about you too much. he glanced at the time at the top of his phone screen; 7:05pm. you had said that you'd be over by seven to grab the notes he had promised you.

moments later, a knock at the door made chris jolt upright in his creaky seat, nearly dropping his phone at the action. his heart started pounding, realizing that it was mostly likely you, and he wastes no time in quickly getting up, pushing his hood down and smoothing out his hoodie before making his way over to open the door.

"hey" you said, smiling softly as you greeted him. you were wearing a simple sweater and jeans, but to chris, you looked fucking amazing. every detail about you stuck in his brain, he couldn't stop staring. "sorry i'm late. got caught up in something before getting here."

you took in chris's appearance, not realizing just how cute he really was until you saw him like this, so casual and unguarded. the way his glasses sat slightly crooked on his nose, his hair messily displayed, it all felt oddly endearing. you had been somehow overlooking so many details about him...

"no, it's cool," chris replied, holding the door open for you and stepping aside to let you in. "i mean it's not like, you were super late. it was only what, five minutes..? so not late at all, really.." he winced internally at his small rant, wondering why he couldn't have just shut up. cool it man, they're just here for notes...

you stepped into the room, glancing around. it was messy, but not to the point where it was overwhelming, or extremely dirty. notebooks were stacked messily on his desk, a half empty bottle of soda next to his laptop, and a poster of some anime character he probably thought was cool stared down from the wall. "cool room," you said with a small laugh.

chris hadn't noticed how carefully you were taking in his room, his focus shifting between your movements and the quiet comments you made. his gaze lingered on you for a little too long, his eyes perversely shifting down to your curves as you moved, eyeing your backside, internally groaning as his mind started wandering to places it shouldn't have been. 'focus, man...' you turned around to face him again, pulling him out of his thoughts abruptly.

"yeah, uh- sorry about the mess. didn't exactly expect company tonight.." he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.

you dismissively wave off his comment. "it's totally fine, my room's way worse," you reassured with a soft laugh. a few seconds of silence passed between you two, before you started to remember why you were there. "so, the notes?"

"right!" he scurried over to his desk, fumbling through a pile of papers until he found the neatly written pages that he had prepared. "here ya go. i, uh, tried to make them clear. let me know if you need anything else."

you took the notes, quietly flipping through the pages. "wow, these are actually super good. thanks, chris.. i'd be screwed without you."

chris felt a small bit of pride at your words, though it was quickly replaced by the anxiety in his chest. you're standing right there. so close. in front of him. say something. do something.. but what? he wasn't exactly smooth with anyone he was interested in, no matter how much he tried to be. most of his conversations these days were just about something he found on the internet or characters from his favorite manga.

you lingered for a moment, not entirely sure if you wanted to leave just yet. glancing around the room to spark conversation again, you began to speak up, "so ... you must really be into this stuff?" you gestured toward the poster and stack of comics lined up on his shelf.

"uh- yeah," chris sheepishly admits hoping that you didn't think he was weird for it. "guess you could say it's kinda my thing — well, one of my things.. i've got layers, y'know... like a very nerdy onion."

when you laughed at chris's quip, his heart skipped a beat, surprised that his embarrassingly corny joke actually landed. "i like it," you said stepping closer to inspect the books. "i've read some of these too."

"oh yeah?" chris asked, voice cracking slightly as he tried his best to sound casual. deep down, his face was burning and his palms were starting to sweat. this was probably the longest conversation he'd ever had with you that wasn't about school. "which ones?"

"hm," you hummed to yourself, tilting your head before picking up a book with a gruesome cover. "this one. but it's been a while since i've read it. maybe you'll let me borrow it sometime..?"

borrow it? absofuckinlutely. chris nodded eagerly. "yeah..! totally! you can borrow anything you want.. anytime." he winced again at his overeagerness, but you only smiled at him, that same smile that made his heart do stupid little flips.

as you set the book back on the shelf, you turned back toward chris, giving him a soft and thankful touch down his arm, that you possibly, maybe knew would get him riled up. "you're really sweet, chris," your voice softer now, "not many people would take out this much time to do something like this for an old study partner."

the nonchalant act that chris was so desperately trying to keep up was crumbling down. the touch, the compliment? chris couldn't remember the last time someone had praised him like that. sure, his mom would call and tell him that he was doing great every now and again, but that didn't count. this was different. this was you. the person he'd been daydreaming about since the first day you got paired with him.

"it's nothing, really," he brushed off, his heart pounding so loudly that he was sure you could hear it. "i just, y'know, wanted to help. you deserve it." the words tumbled out before he could stop them, and he wish he hadn't kept talking so much.

your heart was practically swelling at chris's words. he seriously was the sweetest. while you were silently gushing over his thoughtfulness, you noticed a slight change in chris's demeanor. tilting your head and studying his expression, you prompt a question. "you okay..?" you asked, a teasing tone laced in your voice. "you seem kinda nervous."

"me? pfft, nah.." he said, laughing awkwardly and crossing his arm over the other. but the way he avoided your gaze told you otherwise.

you stepped a little closer, closing the gap between you two. "are you sure?" you asked playfully. "'cause you're acting totally different."

chris tried to brush it off, but his thoughts were spiraling. you were so close now, closer than he'd ever imagined you'd willingly get. and you smelled so good. he nodded with a tight-lipped smile, unsure of what to do or say. "i'm totally fine," he managed to calmly say.

"if you say so," you replied with a small laugh, leaning slightly closer. your eyes finally met his, and for a moment, he swore he saw you eyeing his lips. he wanted to do something. to compliment your face, or kiss you, but he thought it'd be creepy.

"you can sit if you want," he suddenly blurted out, gesturing toward his bed. "i mean, only if you're staying for a bit... not that you have to! but, y'know, if you want to..."

you laughed again, hoping that chris wouldn't take it the wrong way. "thanks," you said, moving to sit on the edge of his bed. "i might, just for a little bit. it's nice to just hang out."

chris was so happy about your response, hoping that it didn't show on his face. you were on his bed. in his dorm. talking to him like it was the most normal thing in the world. well, it should've been, but chris was basically in love with you. he sat down in his chair, trying to seem casual, but his leg bounced nervously, a very telltale sign of his uneasiness that you quickly caught on to. "yeah, it's cool," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "hanging out is... cool."

as the minutes went by, the tension in the room grew. chris couldn't stop staring at you, his mind going to thoughts he knew he shouldn't have been having. every time you spoke, every little small habit you did that he picked up on, it sent his imagination to other places... he bit his lip, trying to actually focus on what you were talking about, but it was impossible when you sat there so pretty and so close to him.

and then, you finally stopped talking, your gaze locking with his. "chris," you said softly, but firm enough to pull him from his thoughts. "can i ask you something?"

he swallowed hard, quickly nodding. "y-yeah. anything."

"why do you act so nervous around me?" you asked, finally presenting the question that would hopefully break the tension in the room. though you felt like you already knew the answer, your heart started to beat faster in anticipation. maybe from nervousness, too. you wanted to hear him say what you were already suspecting. those lingering stares and the way he would stumble over his words weren't for no reason.

for a moment, he just stared at you, his lips parted slightly like he was trying to find something to say. his leg continued to bounce nervously as he let out a small sigh of defeat. "god, i'm so bad at this." he murmured, briefly lifting his glasses as he ran a hand over his face.

"at what?" you pressed gently, trying to show chris that you were attentively listening and weren't going to judge him.

he looked at you, contemplating if he really should say the truth. he thought of the worst possible outcomes. what if he confessed and you didn't feel the same way? or worse, you'd start avoiding him entirely. but the way you stared expectantly only made him want to confess, because if not at that moment, he'd probably never do it. you just made it easy for him.

chris exhaled sharply, finally conceding with a nod. "okay, i really like you. like a lot. i've kind of.. been waiting for the right moment to say it, but i don't think there ever is a right moment, so i'm just saying it now. sorry if it's weird or.. i dont know."

for a moment, the room fell completely silent. chris's face was so flushed, his eyes nervously searching your expression to find any signs of disgust or impending rejection. you could see how much effort it took for him to say those words, and the pure honesty and nervousness in his voice made your heart ache in the best way possible.

"chris, why would you think that's weird?" you questioned, shaking your head with a soft laugh.

"well- i don't know.." chris stammered, his face burning in embarrassment.

you started to feel bad for leaving chris hanging with his confession. but he looked so freaking adorable nervously fidgeting in his seat and mindlessly playing with the strings of his hoodie.

"i like you too, chris," you finally admitted. "i think i've liked you for a while, actually."

chris only blinked at you, before letting out a disbelieving laugh. "you're serious?"

"dead serious," you replied, and the room falls completely silent again.

you knew chris was too afraid to make the first move; the way he awkwardly fidgeted with his hoodie, his gaze occasionally flickering to your lips — that was enough to tell you. with a sigh, you placed the notes on the edge of the bed before standing up, taking a few steps closer until you're right in front of him. "can i kiss you now?"

chris looked up at you, nodding subtly, and that was all the permission you needed. you leaned down, your faces inches apart, until your lips pressed against his.

at first, chris was unsure of what to do, his hands hovering awkwardly between his lap and your sides. he was hesitating, obviously contemplating whether to place his hands on your hips, your waist, or maybe even your face, afraid of doing the wrong thing. he really didn't want to mess up.

sensing his hesitation, you reached down, gently guiding his hands to your hips. "it's okay," you murmured against his lips. your reassurance seemed to calm him, because soon after, his fingers were comfortably starting to dig into the fabric of your sweater as he pulled you down into his lap so that you were fully straddling him.

as the kiss deepened, chris's nervousness was still very evident, his lips moving sloppily and clumsily as he tried to keep up with you. he seriously didn't wanna screw this up. his hands gripped your hips tighter as you settle more firmly into his lap. the warmth of your body was so overwhelming, he couldn't believe that what was happening was real.

but then then something else happened.

he felt it. the tension building between his legs, one that he couldn't ignore, no matter how much he desperately tried to calm himself. he tried to shift slightly, hoping you wouldn't notice, but the friction only made it worse. he groans softly, and without thinking, his hips gave a subtle, but desperate push upward against you.

chris was mortified, his face flushing in complete embarrassment. "i-i'm sorry," he breathes out, pulling his head back slightly. his voice was so shameful, but even as he apologized, his body protested against his words. his hips pressed into you again, this time so much more urgent and messy and completely uncoordinated.

you didn't say anything at first, your eyes fixed on his desperate and flushed expression. his lips were parted, his breathing uneven, and his gaze was nervously avoiding yours. it seemed like he wanted to apologize again, but before he could even think about it, you were leaning in, pressing your lips against his jaw.

"chris, it's okay," you reassured him again, finally shifting in his lap, pressing down just enough to make another moan fall from his lips. his head tilted back slightly, eyes fluttering shut, as another shaky sigh escaped him. he looked so out of it already, so caught up in the moment that it was kinda flattering for you...

your hands found their way to his shoulders, steadying yourself as you rolled your hips over his. chris's entire body jerked beneath you, a strained whimper caught in his throat as his hands instinctively started to guide your movements.

your hips rocked against his with deliberate pressure, your own soft moans filling the room as your clit bumped against the hardness in his sweats. the chair creaked rhythmically beneath you both, his hips bucking up to meet yours with desperation and urgency.

he looked so fucking perfect under you, his fingers desperately digging into your hips, eyes slightly rolling as he silently urged you to go faster. it was so fucking sweet that you couldn't not answer to him.

the tip of his dick rubbed insistently against your clit through the fabric of your clothes, each movement of both of your hips grinding against each other's only made your moans grow louder.

chris's breathing grew heavier, his body shaking in anticipation. he was so overwhelmed, so needy and turned on. the moment he had been fantasizing about for months was finally happening and he couldn't hold himself together. he was so close and it was so embarrassing how fast it took for him to nearly cum in his pants. but you found it endearing, and it only spurred you on to move your hips with more purpose, matching the frantic movements of his own.

"oh fuck," he choked out, his voice barely above a whisper. he was panting heavily, groaning against your neck, small curse words slipping from his lips as his dick twitched in his sweats. he was gonna cum so hard, and for the first time that night, he didn't seem so shameful about it. he was so eager for it.

"are you close?" you whimpered in his ear, still dragging your hips against his lap, your pussy fluttering as you were also nearing your own release.

chris only let out a needy whimper, his hands boldly making their way from your hips to grab at your ass, starting to buck his hips up uncontrollably, desperate to reach his orgasm. his eyes were screwed shut, glasses sliding down his nose as he pushed his face further into your shoulder to suppress his noises, but it was of no use.

whatever noises he tried to keep to himself didn't last for long, because all it took was the sound of your breathless moans in his ear for him to let out a broken whimper of your name right before he's cumming violently in his sweats. he paints the inside of his sweatpants completely white, thick ropes of his hot cum shooting out of his needy tip and messily sticking to himself as he continues to grind up into you, riding out his orgasm.

your hips moved harder against chris's as you chased your own orgasm, his moans and whimpers filling your ears so prettily that you couldn't hold it in anymore. with a soft cry, your release washed over you, the slickness in your panties stuck uncomfortably to your folds as your body trembled and jerked softly against his.

the room was silent, the only sounds being the soft huffs and ragged breaths from you both as you came down from your high. chris's grip on your ass softened, his hands hesitantly moving back to your hips as he muttered to himself, his voice slightly cracking. "holy shit,"

if chris knew that his long time confession would end up like this, he would've told you how he felt way sooner.

[dearsnow]

ORLANDO (FIRST KISS)

- charlie, your best friend, attempts to set you up with the crush he is convinced you have. (charlie dalton x gn!reader, includes some neil being a good friend, slight angst into fluff, happy au, no beta we die like real men)

word count: 2,647

a/n - i love charlie so much oh my god 😭 hopefully there’s more to come with him! i’m planning a very long fic for him, hopefully similar in feeling to my neil fic “the last time” :) this is slightly inspired by the song “orlando” by leith ross so pls check them out!!

It’s 1:32 AM on a Friday night (Saturday, technically, but that rarely seems to matter), and Charlie Dalton is refusing to let you sleep.

“You’ve got to tell me. I swear, cross my heart, I won’t tell a soul.” He begs.

Charlie has been your best friend for god knows how long. You met so long ago that you don’t even remember how or why; it just was. That’s exactly what your relationship is. There’s really no rhyme or reason, considering you would detest anyone else with his personality, but you’re friends anyways, and you love him with all your heart. Opposites attract, you suppose. You don’t know for sure. Most days, including today, he is extremely and desperately annoying.

You slump down onto his bed, covering your eyes with your hands. He’s gotten it into his mind that you have a crush, and he won’t rest until he finds out who it is. Lucky you.

“Charlie, it’s no one.” You groan, peeking past your fingers to stare at him with a cross expression. “Even if I did like someone, I wouldn’t tell you.”

The problem is, you do like someone, and he’s sitting right in front of you with messy hair and pajama pants.

Your feelings for him, just like your meeting, are so far buried in the past that you couldn’t dig them up with an excavator. One day, you suppose, you just started to fall in love with him. He’s annoying and rich and a total smart-ass, but you love him. In some soft, quiet ways, he is the kindest boy you’ve ever met.

He notices when you get cut off mid-conversation or when you’re just a little too uncomfortable to talk to the person in front of you. He knows you like the back of his hand and puts his knowledge to use without ever having to ask, like how he always gets you exactly what you want on your birthday. He’s smart and energized and a breath of fresh air, no matter how stale the room is. And, of course, though you would rarely tell him, he is dashingly handsome.

He sits up straighter and begins listing every boy you’ve ever come in contact with. “Meeks? You always did like his type. Ooh, or Pitts? He’s a pitiful lady-killer. Todd is another good choice. Knox has got his thing with Chris, so you probably wouldn’t like him unless you’re into getting your heart broken.” He stops his ranting to take a breath, then continues on. “You cannot like Cameron because if you do, I won’t ever talk to you again. It isn’t Cameron, right?”

You scoff. “I don’t have a crush. Stop trying to guess a person that doesn’t exist.”

“Neil?” He questions. You hesitate just a bit before waving away his suggestion. Neil is a very good friend of both yours and his, and truthfully, he would definitely be the best boyfriend out of all of them. Despite that, you do not love him like you love Charlie. Not even close.

He catches on to your hesitation with scary accuracy. The tilt of your head, the twitch of your hand, the way the corners of your mouth almost curved up into a smile. Charlie feels his heart drop. “Oh my god, it’s Neil. Of course it’s Neil, it’s always Neil! You like Neil.” Neil is, unbeknownst to him, a complete catch. It makes sense that you would like him. After all, he’s kind, outgoing, and a whole lot nicer than Charlie is. That doesn’t make it hurt any less.

Like you, Charlie doesn’t exactly know when you came into his life. Maybe a stuffy dinner party or a prep event- all that matters to him is that you’re here now, and he loves you. He does, however, know when he started loving you.

It was seventh grade at a school dance, and you had decided to go with a boy he barely knew. When the boy asked you out with a pocketed rose and a shy smile, Charlie felt his blood boiling. How dare he, he thought, take you away from him? You’re his best friend. He would have bought you an entire flower shop had you said the word.

Seeing you waltz with him in your pretty outfit, as awkward and stiff as you both were, was too much for him to bear. Charlie left early, prompting you to follow him. The scene that resulted was one you both tried heavily to erase.

“Charlie, what’s wrong?” You panted, hurrying after him as fast as your pinchy shoes would allow. “Charlie. Charlie! Talk to me.”

“It’s nothing. Just go away.” He sniffled. You turned the corner to see him sitting on a curb, tears tracking down his face. If you knew one thing about Charlie Dalton, it was that he hated crying. You sat down next to him, but he turned to face the trees to his left.

“What happened?” You asked gently. How he despised your gentle care.

“I hate you. Go away.” His voice broke in the middle of his sentence. “I never want to see you again.”

Something in you snapped in that moment, something angry and sad all at once. He was hurting, and you loathed it, but Charlie always got what he wanted in the end.

You stood up and left, muttering a “sorry” over your shoulder.

He tried to avoid you for a while after that, but as with all fated things, he couldn’t stay away for long. He went back to you without a hint of apology, and you took him. Begrudgingly, you just couldn’t be without your best friend for very long.

He knew he loved you then, and that fact hasn’t changed in the present.

“I don’t like Neil.” You insist. “Trust me.”

Charlie stands to pace around his room, talking with his hands as per usual. “Y’know, you always seem smiley around him. I should’ve seen it coming, really. The way you talk to him can’t be platonic.” You sigh from the bed, and Charlie flops down beside you. You can feel the heat radiating from his skin. It’s pleasant, like a ray of sun on a cold day. You instinctively move closer to him as he opens his mouth. “I could probably get you a date with him. Not that you couldn’t do it yourself, but,” he pauses, a hint of hurt humor in his eyes, “I could be your wingman.”

He doesn’t want to be. He really doesn’t want to be, but what can he do? He would rather see you happy with Neil than miserable with no one. Despite how much he hates it, he’s gotten over most of his prepubescent jealousy. He knows deep down in the very achingly sad part of him that you don’t love him. At least, not the way he loves you.

You’re facing him, your nose inches away from his chest as your heart pounds in yours. He really wants you to get with Neil. Well, if that’s how he feels, you don’t feel the need to reject the offer. Maybe this is just the thing you need. What’s the point in pining after him when he’s actively trying to set you up with his second best friend?

“Yeah. That… I would like that.” Charlie’s heart crumbles in his chest.

“Then I’ll get right on it.” He grins. Behind the smile, sadness is swimming in his eyes, but you don’t bother to look at them.

It’s winter break, one of Charlie’s favorite times of the year, but he doesn’t think he’s ever felt this sad before.

By the time the next weekend rolled around, you had almost forgotten about Charlie’s proposed setup. But, on this Saturday when you’re cozy in your room, Neil comes knocking at your door.

You open the door, slightly surprised. He’s holding a bouquet of flowers with a small grin on his face. They’re your favorite flowers.

“Hi.” He says. His voice is breathless.

You raise your eyebrows, but for some reason, you can’t help but smile. Neil is standing in your doorway, and you feel like you know what he’s going to ask. “Hey.”

“Do you want to go on a date with me?” He implores, holding the bouquet out for you to take. “It doesn’t have to be right now, but… I’m ready if you are.” He’s dressed in a crisp suit, and if you’re being honest, you’d hate to make him go home without putting it to use.

You laugh lightly, the feeling bubbling out of your stomach. “Yeah, I’d love that. Just let me get ready and I’ll be out in ten minutes.”

Two days prior to Saturday, Charlie proposed a dead poets town trip. They were milling around, bouncing from shop to shop before Charlie clasped Neil on the shoulder.

“What do you think about Y/N?”

Neil turned, confused. “What do you mean?”

There was a smirk on Charlie’s face, but he hesitated like he didn’t actually want to say the words he was about to say. “I mean, I think you two would be a pretty cute couple.”

Neil let out a huff of air, almost in disbelief. “You’ve been in love with them since seventh grade, Nuwanda. Don’t try to act like you aren’t.”

Charlie gasped exaggeratedly and put a hand over his heart. “How dare you suggest that! I just want the best for my dearest friends.” The others laughed. Every single one of them knew that Charlie harbored deep feelings for you- and every single one of them knew he would never admit it. “Look, just one date. Ask them out on Saturday. They really like you, and I know they’re free, so they can’t pull any excuses.”

“I just don’t know.” Neil admitted. “They’re great and all, but I’d feel bad if I stole away your crush of four years.”

“You won’t be stealing anything, my boy. Just think about it.” Charlie knew he was lying, and it left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he also knew that somehow, he was making the right decision.

Like all of your romantic endeavors, your date with Neil is slightly awkward. He’s your friend, sure, but you’ve never really thought about him like this before. You never even considered dating him. It’s always been Charlie. Maybe, just maybe, it’s time to broaden your horizons.

After the initial tension, you would like to believe it went well. Neil walks you out of the restaurant, holding your arm. He’s smiling, and you feel your own expression falter. You like him, you really do, but some part of you knows that he will never be Charlie.

He leans closer to you, almost close enough to touch. Your heart pounds in your chest as he whispers something into your ear. “Don’t look, but Charlie’s watching. Pretend I’m kissing you.”

You’re taken aback as your eyes try to search for his brown hair, but after a second, you comply. You shut your eyes and thread your fingers through Neil’s. To anyone else, especially anyone inside of the restaurant, it looks like you’re smashing tongues with him.

Neil walks you home as the day fades into night, and as much as you ask, your questions are left unanswered with a sly wink.

“I can’t believe you would do that.” Charlie rages. “It was meant to be a date, not a date and a tongue fuck! That was their first kiss, Neil, and you’ve stripped them of it!” He doesn’t know why he’s so outrageously enraged. It was a quick kiss from the boy you’ve been crushing on. He should be overjoyed for you.

“It wasn’t like that, Charlie. Just ask them.” Neil is surprisingly calm, considering his friend is screaming at him. “Ask them. Go on.” He pushes Charlie’s shoulder. “I walked them home.”

Charlie grumbles, his gut twisted into shaking, angry knots. “I will. If they tell me you did anything weird, though, you’re dead.” Neil shakes his head.

“I think you’d kill me even if I didn’t kiss them.”

For the second time, you hear a knock at your door. This one is loud and frenzied, but through the haze, you can tell who it is. Who else would knock so harshly at 11:23 at night? It’s a good four hours after your date, so it definitely can’t be Neil.

You open the door, clad in pajamas and a frown. “Seriously, Charlie? You’re gonna wake the whole neighborhood.”

“Did he kiss you?” Ah, straight to the point. He’s never one to beat around the bush.

“What’s it to you?” You defend. “You didn’t care about that possibility when you wanted me to date him.” You cross your arms. Why the hell is he so upset? You don’t understand anything about this. His motives, his feelings, right now, they’re more confusing than he’s ever been. Well, save for one night. Oddly, this reminds you of that dance a few years back. You don’t want that to happen again, so whatever’s going on has to stop.

He opens his mouth and then closes it like he’s actually considering what he wants to say for the first time in his life. “I just…” A defeated expression tugs his face down. Your heart plummets. You rarely ever see him crestfallen. The last time was four years ago, and you had hoped you would never see him like that again.

He turns to walk away. He can’t do it, he just can’t. He’s walking so fast the pavement under his feet is a blur, and you chase after him.

“Charlie, what are you-“ He turns, seeing the confusion on your face.

When he looks at you, all Charlie can see is love. He loves your voice, the curve of your lips, the way you do anything and everything. In that moment, when he sees you with tired eyes, his inhibitions flee like rabbits from a wolf. Maybe, just maybe, he can.

Before you can ask, yet after you see the fire in his eyes, he grabs your arm and cuts you off.

“Can I kiss you?”

You’re taken aback for a moment, lips parted, not speaking a word. His hair is messy and the tear tracks on his cheeks glisten in the street lights. It’s like everything you’ve ever wanted has sprung to life before your eyes. “Yes, but-“

He presses his lips to yours, effectively cutting off any further communication once again. His grip on you softens as his hands reach up to cup your face. Your eyes flutter shut, and a million different things race through your mind. All you can consciously think is that you never want it to end.

When he pulls away, breathless, something new is shining in his eyes. “I hope that wasn’t bad for a second kiss.” He smiles. He’s still worried, more so than he’s ever been, but that was the most amazing thing he thinks he’s ever done.

“Second? Charlie, that was my first.”

He pauses. “So Neil didn’t kiss you?”

You laugh, and upon seeing his even more excited face, you laugh so hard you double over. He joins, and your giggles are probably too loud for how late it is. “No! God no, he told me to pretend because you were watching.” Your voice comes out humorous and strained, with so much joy behind the tone that Charlie can feel himself starting to laugh again. “Were- Were you in the restaurant for our whole date?”

“Yeah.” He chokes out. “I couldn’t just let the love of my life date some other guy without my knowledge, right?”

“Oh, totally. Maybe you should ask me out next time, then, to completely avoid this whole scenario.” He pulls you in, laughing against your shoulder.

“Sure. Yeah, I think I will. Next time, I’ll make sure of it.”

[evilminji]

Know what's been haunting me? And my Yandere loving brain?

What if... an SI-OC? Fffffucked UP™?

Like? STRAIGHT up "....Oh No. I have? GRAVELY miscalculated."? Cause? And I'm probably wrong here, or forgetting nuisances, but? Dooku? Left the order and began his Fall? NOT because he disagreed with the vast majority of Jedi philosophy... but?

Because of what the Jedi had BECOME.

Senate attack dogs. Indentured servants. Following NOT the Force or their Orders Mandate, but a mere GOVERMANT. Politicians. Straight into ruin and slaughter no less! It was vile. Corrupt. A perversion and degradation of HIS beloved Jedi Order.

He was proud and filled with grief, isolated. Palpatine chose well.

But! He was ALSO a Master Jedi with DECADES of Mastery under his belt. You do not become that with out clear vision of what you want. Who you ARE. And Dooku? Very CLEARLY planned on winning. Killing Sidious and taking his place. An unfortunate necessity, really. In his Grand Plan™.

Too?

Start over, obviously.

Instead of just leaving and starting a NORMAL Religious Schism, building a temple on Serrano, and publicly calling his old Council members lil bitchs. Slap fighting in the town square, as is traditional. Maybe sending pass aggressive notes back and forth in the hands of increasingly spoiled Padawan, because OUR temple at least FEEDS these POOR WAIFS. Etc etc?

Dude went the SITH route. Of... you know... "kill everybody".

Bit extreme. Just saying.

However! Dooku? Not well! In fact, DEEPLY unhinged and masterfully hiding it! Because he is, in fact, a MASTER jedi! And know how to fucking DO THAT. So that slow creep of Deepyly Crazy? No one sees it. Gives ya time to miss the countdown to Boom, as it were.

Which leads to our dearly beloved SI. She? Is a well meaning IDIOT. She can't help it. It's the Force, man. All that feel good juice, clogging up her brain! Making her? Optimistic! Vaguely perky! Wanting to see the GOOD in people!!!

Disturbing, she knows. But it is what it is.

And MASTER Dooku? Feels? Stern but warm. Stalwart. Like one of those ancient trees or great temples in a quite moment. Old and powerful, not necessarily KIND, but certainly not UNKIND. Just... fussy, you know? Proper. Collected and self contained. Doesn't like messy and dirty and needless noise.

So... what's an itty bitty Crecheling to do? To stop this Respected Master from falling? Well... Yoda seems to think "babies" works? And SHE is Baby...

Better scrub down so I'm EXTRA not "why are all children so... sticky?" and make my self look as presentable as possible. Then? Plan: Stalk the Respected Master Dooku Like A Duckling is a GO~! Yoda finds this INSTANTLY hilarious. Starts feeding her insider information (One of his many, later Great Regrets).

Dooku likes THIS tea. Meditates in THIS garden. Ask him about THIS subject, no one listens to him rant about it, he'll enjoy lecturing you about it for HOURS. She actually learns quite a lot! Man's a good teacher. And SHE? Is a dutiful, polite, thoughtful, shining young paragon example of what he feels the Jedi SHOULD be.

She LISTENS. Unlike his foolish peers. She tries to better herself, day by day, instead of running around screaming and playing in mud. Asks after etiquette from the courts he's traveled too, so she does not offend in the future. Does not react with blind disgust to questions others would deem heretical!

Instead? SHE comes from a JEDI place of approach with compassion and consultation of the Force. What creates the most GOOD? How can we strive for the kindest, most ethical, most equal social possible? What brings the universe the most Light? Where do OUR duties end and the duties of OTHERS begin, and when is it time to call them on their failings, should there be any?

It is? Delightful~ if he were not already committed to his path, he would seriously consider taking her on as a Padawn. Like the Granddaughter he never had. In FACT? He is conflicted. While he does not wish to lose the bright little light he has become so accustomed too? He should probably do what is best for her.

He IS leaving after all. Eventually. Perhaps after Qui-Gon finally knights his own padawn. He can convince the man to come with him. A talk between them has been so very, very long overdue. And the man is like a son to him. Young Obi-Wan is a fine young Jedi. Upstanding and collected, could use a bit of tempering. Outrageous flirt. It would be hilarious.

It's a good plan.... right up until it isn't.

Until the Council's BLINDNESS lead his SON to dying alone. For Sidious little games. And the place in HIS chosen lineage is USURPED by some WHINY SAND COVERED BRAT who can not CONTROL himself! No. NO.

Absolutely Not.

As far as HE is concerned? HIS lineage? Goes him, Qui-gon, Obi-Wan, and then SI-OC. No Sand Brat. Is he spiraling? Oh yes. Has been for a while. But now? NOW someone just kicked out a major support beam. The building is a'shaking. SI-OC is worried. Knows this could make or break his Fall.

Doesn't realize that ship has sailed LONG before she arrived.

Jedi Master's do not Fall over night. It is the slow erosion that kills them. Death by ten thousand cuts. He was already thousands deep. Bleeding and bleeding, beyond her abilities to heal. Yoda could have changed things. He is a Master. But a mere Crecheling? An untrained child? No. She stood no chance.

Does not realize that, as she stands in the heart of the storm. The center of the bear trap. As composed Master Dooku grieves and rages, hair disheveled and robes a mess. No, he can not come to the comm right now. No, he is not taking visitors, thank you. Please, Master Dooku. Please! Drink some tea? Eat? Something. Anything. I beg you.

It is a focal point. An anchor to cling to, in that great Fall. As SI-OC fusses with blankets and music that might help, pressing her small and fragile light against his shields like a comforting weight. As though trying to protect him from the pain. As though ANYTHING could protect him.

Sits with him, in remembrance.

Comes with him, to the funeral.... where stands the sand brat. At HER Master's side. As though enough has not been stolen. How dare he? How dare THEY? To allow this!? Hatred festers. Rage. The mania that Darkness brings. He sees now. Ooooo ho ho, does he now see.

The Order has become Rotten. It cannot be saved. The Jedi have lost their way.

The old must be purged... and they must begin again.

It's all so CLEAR now. So simple. The path forward. Its so obvious now, HE is not leaving, oh no, THEY are leaving. It would be madness to leave a vulnerable Crecheling in such unfettered corruption. Exposed to the nonexistent mercies of Sidious and his ilk. Not to mention, Force knows what filth they'd attempt to stuff in her head behind his back!

Knight Kenobi is an adult. Can comport himself and defend his person. SI-OC can not. She is just a youngling. Should have BARELY been a padawn. But... things have changed.

SI-OC fall asleep, comfortable and certain she is perfectly safe, in MASTER Dooku's apartments. Just another Tea Time and obscure Force Philosophy lecture. Maybe some hands-on etiquette lessons. There are many, MANY different ways to take tea. And... man... the room is so cozy. Always so comfortable and tastefully inviting. Warm an... an snoozy... feelin... *thunk of a small child falling over, dead to the world*

Drugged? Sleep suggestion? Soothing bedtime tea? Yes. Yes, he did. She stood literally negative chances. He scoops up HIS granddaughter and leaves droids to pack the rest. Tucks her under his cloak. No one thinks to even check. Who would? He is trusted. Respected. It is well known how he dotes upon the child. Old age has softened him, some jest.

The dangers of attachment indeed. But it is not HIM who is in danger. It is HER who his attachment endangers. Because he can not let go. WILL NOT. Because it can crossed from caring to obsessive. Possessive. To mine, mine, mine.

Children are not property. Not toys or trophies. Teddy bears to squeeze until your hurt stops. They are living, breathing, entities in their own right. Which is something a JEDI would be able to accept. The SITH? No. No, see, his Great-grandpadawn is HIS. This is HIS family. HIS Jedi order. HIS plan to "fix" everything.

She done fucked up.

She wakes up on a ship to Serrano with COUNT Dooku.

His... his eyes turn Interesting Colors now. Ha ha... she is... staying Very Calm. It is REALLY important to stay VERY calm. No sudden movements. We Do Not startle the Darksider! Eeeeeeverones FRIENDS here! R-Right?

Oh of course. Nothing to be worried about, dear. You're just going to his Manor until the NEW temple is finished. (Neat. Terrifying. So, SO many horrifying parts of that sentence). And SI-OC? Pulls the good ol "never argue with the crazy person with a gun" technique. Smile and Nod! Mmmmhmmm! G-great! Can't wait!

(Oh god, help me)

War breaks out. She's on THE Separatist planet. But not? Before crazy grandpa? Has hired bounty hunters to find him force sensitive kids. You know, for the NEW Jedi order. Because we're all pretending here. Smile and nod, fellow hostages. For the love of the Force, smile and nod.

She's not entirely even certain half these children were from families that WANTED to give them up. It makes her sick to think about.

She still has to have Tea Time. Because she, a child, is the HEAD of the New Order. And he has decades of Jedi knowledge to impart. Also? Lonely and fixating. We're a happy family. Because I say so and have hostages. That's why you love you, don't you dear? *SI-OC with a wide, terrified hostage smile* mmmmhmm!

The Jedi? Have figured out what happened. Crecheling mysteriously disappeared at the same time a Count Dooku? They originally thought she tried to follow him. Got lost or grabbed by slavers. But now... NOW? Oh Force they know they horrifying truth. The Darksider stole a CHILD.

Everyone remembers SI-OC. She was the sweet little duckling. Well behaved and polite. A kind child. Worried for Count Dooku. And now look at what's happened?! The CIS is trotting out the "head" or their "new order" and it's their lost Crecheling. Now a teenager. Terror in her eyes and a fixed jedi smile.

The Creche Masters have to be physically dragged away from stealth ships. (They're just going to talk! They're jUST GOING TO TAL-!!!) Plo Koon is fucking HELPING and that's NOT helpful! No, your commander do NOT have "a point"! You can not do just a "little bit" of murder as "a treat"!

A certain Quinlan Vos? Never heard of him, of course, rocks up to this New Order with a smoothie. Has betrayed the OLD order and the Republic. Definitely for realisies and not because he's here to spy! Heeeeey, kiddo. How you holding up?

Answer? Oh THANK GOD, AN ADULT JEDI! Halp! Followed by gross sobbing. So... you know... not GREAT. Wouldn't recommend it.

But! The INTEL. Sweet holy shit, kid. Chips. Palpatine. Dooku behind the Clones. Everything ELSE she's quietly been noting down. Uuuuh, yeah. Yeah that WILL be... real useful.... Holy shit. No, seriously, give him a second. Just like that? Huh. Didn't even have to convince you. Wow. Okay.

Well then! Let's fuck over some Sith!

How the Shadows go about it? Probably very action movie and nail biting. High octane. Sweet big budget cgi effects. They get the De-chipped clones involved. Fox gets to finally, FINALLY shoot his boss. Never a happier man. He deserves it.

But that's not important. What IS? Is Quinlan Vos? Showing up to the Temple, with a burger and smelling strongly of smoke, and like.... over 450 force sensitive younglings, teenage and below. And probably a litter of tookas. Because what? Were they supposed to LEAVE them?

She takes One(1) step into the temple and gets hit with like? Three generations of Guilt Complexes. Man Pain. Yoda, Obi-Wan, AND Anikin? Mother FUCKER, you were 9! What were you supposed to DO? Bite him?! You literally JUST GOT HERE. *SI-OC has used Logic against Skywalker Guilt... it is not very effective!*

When? When will she be freeeeeeee? Cannon Yoda had the right idea.

She should go hide in a fucking SWAMP.

@babbling-babull @legitimatesatanspawn @spidori @lolottes @hypewinter @mayfay @hdgnj

[cxvii666]

“nokia”

college au! denki kaminari + hanta sero x reader

“where's the function?" “—where the fuck the function?” “send the addy—” “where the fuck the function???”

wc: 3.7k

part of the hoe cakes - EP

...starting track

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

.....

"guess who just got that big cashmoneyyyyy!!!"

denki kaminari, to much surprise of those who don't know him so well, is an early riser.

that's not to say that the blonde's sleep schedule isn't completely out of wack, because it is. late nights that could barely be counted as nights, more like extremely early mornings, are not infrequent to him. most days he's up till 2am on his playstation, or playing minecraft on his laptop, or rewatching the same three movies.

but he's always up before 7am.

fuelled by nictotine, caffeine, (sometimes ketamine), and sheer willpower.

he enjoys getting up with the sun, the quiet of the house at dawn.

it's peaceful in a way nothing else is. he gets to attempt at quieting his mind. sometimes he's downstairs before bakugou goes on his morning run, so he makes the guy his favourite disgustingly green multivitamin shakes, and in return receives quiet instruction, general life advice, and insightful words of wisdom from the other blonde. because they are both calm in a way they're normally not.

hanta sero, on the other hand, is a master of the lay in. you won't see him before 2pm on a regular day, he'll be upstairs in his room, snoozing, snoring, drooling into his pillow, until either his stomach wakes him up and he leaves his dungeon of his own accord, in search of food or an energy drink, or, someone gets sent up to check on him, to make sure he's not dead or something like that.

on this particular morning, hanta had stumbled downstairs just after midday, slightly buzzing because he had finally bought the pair of sneakers he'd been eyeing up for the last week.

he flops onto the couch, a gangly pile of long limbs and messy brown hair, knocking denki on the leg accidentally-on-purpose. denki looks up briefly, over the top of his book, from where he's resting in the corner of the couch and acknowledges his friend with a nod.

"'bit early for you, ain't it," the blonde mumbles, the frame of his reading glasses slipping slightly as he turns the page.

"shaddup." is all he receives from hanta in return, who then takes a swig of his redbull like he's tryna give himself wings.

"dude, did you hear what i just said?" hanta yawns out, lazily kicking his feet up to rest on the blonde's shin, "the bag just got dropped in my bank account."

"what, you finally got that uber eats refund?" denki snorts, eyes still focused on the printed words on the page, he has to finish this chapter now, else he won't pick the book back up for another two weeks.

"don't be funny," hanta laments, thinking of the food that never got delivered, the money that was never returned, "and fuck uber, fuck the government." denki rolls his eyes at the rant he's already heard, "what do they get out of torturing underpaid students, huh? no loyalty in this game."

"what game?" denki replies, nearly at the end of the page.

"the game of life," he drawls back dryly. "you finish that chapter yet? i wanna go for a smoke."

"almost, the mc is pissing me off though, i don't know if i can finish this."

"what's the book?"

"pride and prejudice."

hanta whistles low and long, head tilted as he picks his phone back up to open depop. "damn," he mutters, thumb pausing over a blurry jpeg of a hoodie that definitely doesn’t justify the £85 price tag, "sorry, mister classic literature."

denki doesn't even glance up. he just hums, flipping another page with the careful indifference of someone pretending they’re not rereading the same paragraph for the third time.

they fall into silence — not heavy, just easy — filled only by the soft tap-tap-tap of hanta’s screen and the occasional creak of the old couch when one of them shifts. sunlight slants through the living room blinds, catching on dust motes and the curl of denki’s blonde hair as he leans deeper into the cushions, glasses slipping slightly down his nose.

hanta’s sprawled out beside him, legs stretched halfway off the couch, socked feet resting dangerously close to denki’s side. he’s locked in, zoned out, scrolling through overpriced streetwear resellers hawking one-of-one drops and faded zip-ups from some underground german brand he can’t even pronounce.

the quiet’s broken by the sharp snap of a book closing.

“you got funds for said smoke?” denki asks, voice dry, already reaching for his phone.

“i haven’t picked up yet,” hanta replies without looking up.

“that’s not what i asked.”

“you’re so annoying.”

“i was gonna text shinsou. he came back yesterday, i’m sure he’s got at least an eighth on him.”

hanta stretches, joints popping. “then yeah. tell him i’ll bank transfer.”

denki raises an eyebrow. “so you do have smoke money.”

hanta tosses his phone up, catches it against his chest. “what did i say earlier? the bag got dropped.”

a beat.

denki glances at his phone, brows lifting. “oh shit. it’s the 30th.”

“there he is,” hanta grins, already anticipating it. “and you know what that means—”

“we got paiddddd” denki sing-songs, jumping up just enough to do a half-assed shoulder shimmy.

hanta kills the moment immediately, as he always does, with a well-timed scoff and a raised brow. “we? bro, who’s this we you speak of?”

denki freezes mid-dance, blinking. “we… like, you and me?” he gestures between them helplessly. “that’s, like, basic grammar, i fear.”

“i mean,” hanta says, voice climbing mock-dramatically, “there is no ‘we’, okay? you don’t have to spend all your free time in that stupid stockroom. ‘sero can you come in today?’ ‘sero we need a full size range of xyz’ ‘sero can you take the bins out?’ ‘sero can you close the store tonight and then open the next morning’—NO. fuck that.”

denki snorts, trying and failing to hide the smirk pulling at his mouth.

hanta sees it and narrows his eyes. “unemployed bastard. shut the fuck up.”

“okay, okay, relax, bruh,” denki says, holding up both hands. “you know what?”

“…what?”

“we should go out tonight.”

“are you kidding? i thought we were locking in. don’t you have, like, five assignments due next—”

“no thoughts. only vibes.”

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

by 9pm they’re crammed around a too-small, sticky round table in a bar that smells like old wood and spilled citrus. the lighting’s low and uneven, all weird amber glows and exposed wires, and the music is some indie playlist that’s trying a little too hard to be ironic. something with a harmonica plays over the speakers, no one knows the words, but everyone knows the vibe: overpriced, under-cleaned, maybe cool in a way that’s embarrassing if you think about it too long.

denki’s halfway into his second tequila soda, slouched back against the booth with his knees knocking into hanta’s. his eyes are glassy, hair a little damp at the temples, grinning like someone just told him the funniest joke in the world and he’s still recovering.

hanta’s beside him, obviously crossfaded. talking too loud, gesturing too big with a joint in his hand, cheeks flushed pink from a cocktail that had way more liquor than mixer. he’s half on the seat and half off, manspreading shamelessly and knocking into denki every time he tries to make a point.

kiri’s on denki’s other side, balanced on a chair that definitely wasn’t made for his size, nursing a beer that’s already gone warm, launching into some dramatic story about how he “definitely tore something” at the gym last week.

“nah dude, i swear, i was just squatting and something snapped—”

“your common sense,” bakugou mutters from across the table, not looking up from the glass of whiskey he’s been babysitting for the past twenty minutes.

“fuck off, man,” kirishima laughs, clapping him hard on the shoulder, “just ‘cause i’m built different—”

“built stupid,” bakugou corrects, finally glancing up, eyes narrowed like he’s considering whether the redhead needs to be thrown out the window or just insulted more thoroughly.

shinsou’s wedged between bakugou and the wall, hoodie hood up, sipping something dark and bitter with the look of a man who’s about to start dissociating. he hasn't said much since they sat down, just making faces into his glass every time someone raises their voice — which is often.

denki points across the table suddenly, finger wobbling as he focuses on bakugou. “i’m just saying,” he slurs, “you’re, like, objectively the hottest out of all of us, and that’s so unfair because you’re also mean and rich.”

bakugou doesn’t even blink. just flips him off slowly, deliberately, like he’s done it so many times it’s lost all meaning.

“i think i’m the hottest,” hanta says, almost spilling his drink on his lap. “in a, like, mysterious way. like… the kinda hot that sneaks up on you.”

“you’re hot in a raccoon-at-3am kinda way,” shinsou mutters into his drink without missing a beat.

hanta pauses. considers. “thank you?”

kiri claps him on the back like he just won a prize. “you’ve got that haunted twink energy. it works for you.”

hanta makes a face like he’s been personally victimised. “okay wow, homophobic and accurate. you guys are on thin fuckin ice.”

they all laugh — loud and messy — drawing a few annoyed looks from the couple at the next table over. denki knocks his knee against hanta’s and hiccups once, eyes fluttering closed like the room’s starting to spin just slightly.

then he suddenly lurches forward, forehead thunking onto the sticky wood of the table as he groans, “can we go somewhere else? shinsou, your internship aged you like milk. i feel like we’re thirty-five. i wanna move. i wanna dance. i want fun.”

“then go,” shinsou says, without even lifting his head.

denki doesn’t even hesitate. he’s already got his phone out, dialing with shaking hands and tequila optimism. he holds the phone to his ear like it owes him money.

“this is gonna end badly,” hanta whispers to kirishima, grinning wide.

“denki, babe, what’s up?” mina answers on the second ring, her voice loud with bass and laughter and probably a little champagne.

“where are you? save me. i’m surrounded by clinically depressed men and i need a serotonin shot.”

“club downtown with the girls. music’s fire. drinks are pink. get your ass here.”

“we’re on our way.”

he hangs up like he just solved a crime and slaps his palm down on the table. “mina’s at the club. we’re going. sero, get up.”

“say less,” hanta says, already trying to climb over the bench with the grace of a baby giraffe.

“absolutely not,” bakugou growls, right as kiri fist-pumps with a too-loud, “hell yeah!”

shinsou sighs like he’s dying, then tips the rest of his drink back like it might bring him peace.

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

they leave the bar like a storm — noisy, uncoordinated, half-drunk and dramatic. denki’s leading the charge, coat flapping behind him like a cape as he marches toward the curb, phone in hand and eyes bright with mission.

“someone call a ride,” shinsou mutters, already regretting this.

“on it,” hanta announces, immediately opening instagram instead of uber. “wait, no, shit.”

“i’ll do it,” bakugou growls, snatching the phone out of hanta’s hand. “you idiots’ll end up the other side of the fuckin' country.”

“wow,” hanta says, mock-offended, “it’s giving control issues.”

“it’s giving i don’t want to die in a ditch tonight,” bakugou snaps.

kiri’s standing too close to the street, waving his arms. “is this legal if i flag one down like a taxi—”

“it’s a rideshare, bro!” denki yells, exasperated. “you don’t just... wave at random cars!”

“what if it’s the vibe though?”

the car arrives miraculously only five minutes later, a silver prius that has seen better days. they pile in like a jenga tower mid-collapse — kirishima practically sitting on shinsou, hanta in the middle seat with both elbows out like he owns the place, denki leaning his whole body across the row to yell something incoherent out the window. bakugou slams the door shut with unnecessary force and glares at the driver like sorry in advance.

the entire ride is chaos.

denki insists on playing music and ends up blasting a playlist called “feral thot energy.” hanta starts freestyle rapping over it, badly. kiri tries to harmonize. shinsou has his head against the window with the thousand-yard stare of a man who has made several mistakes in life.

“this is the kind of night where legends are born,” denki declares, arm draped around hanta’s shoulder like a drunk prom date.

“it’s the kind of night where someone gets kicked out of a club,” shinsou mutters.

“same difference.”

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

the club hits them like a wave — sound and sweat and heat and light. music thrums through the floor, vibrating up through their shoes, a pulsing beat that makes your ribs buzz. everything’s cast in blue and purple and gold strobe. bodies packed tight, the air thick with perfume, alcohol, and cheap fog machine mist.

mina spots them first — she’s glowing, standing on the low couch in a VIP booth like it’s a stage, waving her drink and grinning like she owns the place. she yells something they can’t hear and beckons them over.

they shove their way through the crowd, hands on shoulders, stumbling into strangers. hanta gets distracted by a girl in platform boots and nearly crashes into a server. kiri’s already hyping himself up, bouncing to the beat, dragging bakugou by the wrist with zero shame.

shinsou disappears into the dark like a shadow, muttering something about getting a drink and being “less near all of you.”

denki’s still laughing when he sees you.

his brain short-circuits. just flatlines for a second.

you’re across the room, leaning against the bar with a drink in hand, face lit up in electric violet from the LED strip beneath the counter. you’re laughing — at what, he doesn’t know — and you look good. criminally good. all done up and shining like you were dipped in starlight and eyeliner.

denki halts mid-step, grabbing hanta’s arm like it’s the only thing anchoring him to earth.

"holy shit."

hanta blinks, following his gaze. he spots you instantly. his entire vibe shifts in half a second.

denki’s shoulders stiffen. hanta’s grin tilts, almost smug.

they don’t say a word — but the battle lines are drawn.

denki smooths his shirt down and straightens up, already plotting, because tonight just got way more interesting.

"bro," the brown eyed boy drawls, his normally nonchalant tone cracking, "you’re joking."

"i’m not. she’s here. she’s right fucking there."

they both just stand there for a beat, frozen in place like idiots in a teen movie.

"we knew this might happen," hanta says, knocking back a too-big sip of his drink like it’ll help. "she’s friends with mina. and mina lives here. and we are, unfortunately, also here."

denki groans, scrubbing a hand down his face. "okay but what do we do?"

"we don’t panic," hanta says, clearly starting to panic. "you like her. i like her. classic romcom setup. we wingman each other. bros helping bros."

"that never works."

"you’re right. but i’m already a teensy bit faded, so my judgment is impaired. let’s do it anyway."

they fist bump like absolute morons. it’s unspoken, the truce. the agreement. the absolute guaranteed disaster they’re about to unleash on themselves.

“denki,” hanta hisses suddenly as they're making their way over to the bar, grabbing his friend by the shoulder like he’s about to keep him from walking into traffic. “don’t do the eyebrow thing. it makes you look insane.”

denki freezes mid-step, brow raised just slightly, lips twitching in what was clearly meant to be a smolder but lands somewhere between drunken anime villain and confused raccoon. his bleached hair is slightly damp from the humidity of the club, strands clinging to his forehead, cheeks already pink with tequila and ego.

“what eyebrow thing?” he says innocently, blinking way too much.

“that thing where you raise one and try to smolder. you look like a drunk ferret.”

denki looks genuinely offended. “you’re so full of shit.”

“don’t fight me on this right now,” hanta says, standing tall, long limbs graceful in that lazy way only he can pull off — baggy jeans slung low, silver chain flashing under the neon. “focus. you’re acting like this is a final boss level. relax.”

before denki can retaliate, you spot them.

your grin is immediate — wide, familiar, a little sharp at the edges like you already know something they don’t. you’re leaning against the bar like you own the place, glass in hand, lips glossy, eyes flicking between the two of them like you’re trying to decide who to bully first.

“well, well, well,” you say, raising your drink. “look who crawled out of the sad boy table.”

“we got tired of being emotionally repressed,” denki replies with a grin, already sliding closer. his chain catches the light, and there’s a faint glitter on his cheek like he walked through a cloud of mina’s body spray.

“also the drinks here are pink. i couldn’t resist.”

“pink drinks do hit different,” you concede, tipping your glass to him.

hanta leans in on the other side of you, effortlessly cool, one elbow braced on the bar like he’s done this a hundred times before — because he has. he flashes a lazy smile. “so who’s your friend?”

you glance sideways, and the guy you’d been chatting with is already edging away like a guy smart enough to take a hint. “just someone mina introduced. he’s chill. not as entertaining as you two, apparently.”

they both beam at that — practically glowing.

and for a while, it’s good.

you talk, or more accurately, yell over the pounding bass. denki shoves a round of lemon drop shots into everyone’s hands like he’s on a mission from god. hanta makes a joke about astrology that makes you snort vodka soda through your nose. denki doubles over laughing and nearly chokes on a lime wedge.

you steal one of his fries when a plate of mystery bar food appears out of nowhere, and he acts like you’ve committed a felony. hanta dramatically narrates a fake backstory for the guy passed out in the booth across the room. it’s chaotic and stupid and loud and fun.

until it stops being that.

it’s little things, at first. denki cuts hanta off halfway through a story, correcting him on some inconsequential detail. hanta retaliates by one-upping him on a joke you weren’t really listening to. denki starts leaning a little too close to you. hanta starts rolling his eyes a little too obviously.

you feel it shift — the air getting tighter.

“you always do this,” hanta mutters later, after denki slides into the booth beside you uninvited, legs brushing yours casually like it’s nothing. “you get weird.”

“i’m not weird,” denki snaps, voice rising just enough to make it obvious that he is.

“you’re doing the thing.”

“what thing?”

“the thing where you pretend to wingman but then you cockblock.”

“you literally just told her i cried during Up.”

“because you did!” hanta says, throwing his arms up. “and it was sweet!”

“it was manipulative.”

“you need therapy.”

you stare at both of them, blinking in mild alarm. “are you guys okay?”

“we’re fine,” they say in unison. then glare at each other.

a beat passes. the silence is immediate and awkward.

“i’m gonna go to the bathroom,” you announce, already sliding out of the booth. it’s the emotional equivalent of pulling the fire alarm.

as soon as you’re gone, the mood collapses in on itself like a dying star.

“we’re idiots,” hanta says, rubbing his hand over his face.

“massive idiots,” denki agrees, eyes on the condensation sliding down his glass.

“she probably thinks we’re in love with each other.”

“we are. just not the sexy kind.”

they sit with that. the weight of it. the creeping shame of being two grown men emotionally combusting over a single girl in a bar with glittery walls and a sticky floor.

“you wanna go home?”

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

they stumble into hanta’s room just past midnight, extremely early by their standards, shoes half-kicked off in the doorway, smelling like tequila, sweat, weed, and mutual defeat. the walls glow dimly with the soft wash of purple LEDs, casting shadows over the usual mess — a hoodie draped on the desk chair, empty cans on the windowsill, a pair of skate shoes abandoned under the bed.

denki drops face-first onto the mattress with a dramatic groan. “we blew it.”

“royally,” hanta agrees, toeing off his sneakers and collapsing beside him. “like, worse than the Up thing.”

“i’m never gonna hear the end of the Up thing.”

“you cried so hard," hanta giggles out into the silence.

“don’t start again,” denki mumbles into the blanket. “we’re mourning.”

“mourning what? the shreds of our dignity?”

“that. and the fact that we probably scared her off forever.”

hanta snorts softly. “you think she’ll still come over saturday?”

“she said she would.” denki flips onto his back and stares at the ceiling like it has answers. “you invited her, remember? you were all—come hang, it’ll be chill, we’ll do frozen margaritas, good weed and bad movies.”

“yeah, and you added i’ll make nachos and accidentally seduce you with my helpless little golden retriever charm.”

“it’s not a bit. it’s my burden.”

they lapse into silence again, heads lolling toward each other on the bed, limbs splayed out like they’ve just returned from war.

“you think she’s into you?” hanta asks eventually, voice low, a little too casual to be real.

denki’s quiet for a beat. “i dunno. maybe?”

another pause.

“you?”

hanta lets out a long breath. “maybe.”

they don’t look at each other. they don’t need to. it’s not the first time they’ve liked the same person — just the first time it might actually matter.

“we suck,” denki says again, softer this time.

“at least we suck together.”

"that's so gay."

they fall asleep like that — fully clothed, limbs tangled, laughter still clinging to their skin like the glitter they’ll find in the morning.

...end of playback

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

prev track ▷ 93 'til infinity

next track ▷ black beatles

[hbpseverus]

Genshin is alienating its female playerbase and I'm so tired of it

This is not at all what I usually post but I really need to rant about this and I don't know where else to post it, so...

We have all seen the Varesa leaks and discourse by now, and like most players I'm also extremely disappointed. I won't even begin to touch on other issues like racism, fatphobia and Natlans messy storytelling here and just focus on the sexualisation of female characters recently.

Mavuikas full body crotch zipper, Citlalis entire behaviour around the traveller, Mizuki (though to a lesser extend) with her burst animation and yet again a crush on traveller, and now the mess that is Varesas design.

Hoyo is suddenly heavily catering exclusively to this very specific audience of male gooners who sit in their moms basement and have posters of 12 year old anime girls on their walls. It's disgusting. Of course their other games were known to be like this, but Genshin was always the one with minimal fanservice which is exactly why it is so beloved by a large audience including women and children.

Yes, there was fanservice before, too. But even though Raiden pulls a sword out of her chest, it doesn't feel as offensive because she is a badass character with actual lore and personality beyond just blushing and stuttering around Aether. I dare say it was even a kind of fanservice that is also enjoyed by sapphics, see also the popularity of Eimiko and their individual characters among women. These characters were treated like actual people rather than objects for Aethers harem.

Characters also always had short pants/skirts, yes, but Varesas entire ass is literally out and directly held up into the players face during her animations. None of the pre-Natlan characters were like this. "It's because she is a wrestler!" Then why is she stumbling and falling on her ass or to her knees after every single attack? It's ridiculous, there is no logical explanation for it no matter how hard you try to find one. It is pure fanservice.

I don't even understand why Hoyo is suddenly going this route. More than half the playerbase hates these designs, and last time I checked the banner sales for these characters have been extremely low compared to Fontaine characters, who are beloved by the entire playerbase. So if this shit doesn't even sell, what is the point?

So back to my original statement. As a female player I feel alienated from the game now. Every female character nowadays is catered towards straight males and extremely sexualised. Obviously for women who play the game this is fucking uncomfortable. They don't even make male characters anymore, which wouldn't be a huge deal for me personally if the women they released weren't all like this, but I know it's rapidly driving away many female players. And we do make up a large part of the playerbase, I always felt like it's 50:50 men and women playing, if not even more women (on EU at least). And the only 2 male characters coming soon will be 4 stars.

Personally I'm still holding out hope for Nod-Krai, the Mondstadt expansion, Snezhnaya and Khaenri'ah, because those always had peak lore and designs so far. But if the game continues on like this I will drop it, even though I've been playing for almost 4 years and have spent money on it. It's absolutely no surprise to me that women are moving to others games like Infinity Nikki, where female characters and players alike are respected and valued.