#thought 'it is almost as if I experienced everything from the daydream. the power of one's mind over their physical well-being truly is

[anarcho-masochist]

It really is like my brain went, "Wow, those are powerful intrusive thoughts you've got there. You know what's more powerful? Your desire to see this guy traumatized. Have 1.5 days of maladaptive daydreaming about them."

[suffarustuffaru]

Which anime/games/film works do you like to choose to crossover with Re:zero? And which characters from these works do you think will get along well with Subaru and become good friends?

ooh……. these are some tricky questions… (complimentary)

i will say though that when i think of crossovers i do tend to prefer fandom fusions :o i like the idea of blending in the media im crossing over :o !! if youre interested in that sort of thing also, i made an umbrella academy-rezero fusion au fic with turacoverdin and ive made like T^T either shitposty or serious writing or art for several other fusion aus for the past two years… just bc i like the idea of placing rezero characters in like. different scenarios and studying them like bugs under a microscope HAH some other fusions ive done / daydreamed about include madoka magica, attack on titan, persona 5, also did some chainsaw man au doodles (unlike most people when they do chainsaw man aus i put emilia as denji and subaru as asa wodnsjs HEAR ME OUT OK—)… etc etc i suppose… also that one time i drew rezero characters as mario characters and tried way too hard on it—

anyway. as for what characters will get along with subaru—honestly i havent thought about it much so uhhh perhaps i will try right now!! :O i feel like characters like homura from madoka magica could be interesting… bc i feel like for him itd be like acquiring a new little sister bc she has her whole (apologies for madoka magica spoilers? HAH) time travel to save the girl she loves thing… homuras been through a lot and im 100% sure she and subaru will be able to relate to each other. homura kind of has that cold demeanor beatrice used to have too so YES new little sister acquired mayhaps!!!! and depending on how hes feeling he can cheer on her crimes or comfort her fr :,,))

on other hand i feel like throwing subaru at chainsaw man characters would be fucking hilarious… denji and power with subaru would probably get along like a house on fire…. subaru would probably react similar to aki in this situation. its the big brother figure in him kicking in again. that and power is like head empty and high energy and so is shaula so maybe subarud be like awww… 🥺 at her. shes gonna become like his new feral cat (affectionate). theyd probably have a similar dynamic to subaru with shaula (fond and exasperated). with denji i feel like theyd both be arguing all over the place bc theyre both Loud (literal) (metaphorical) and denjis moral compass is almost entirely just Must Save Animals!!! but like i feel like subaru would be fond of the guy and feel bad for him. im sure they can relate between. getting fucked over by Certain Women and subaru can help teach denji the importance of human connection!!! the latter of which would be important if subaru ever meets asa also T^T uhh minor part 2 spoilers but like yeah asas 1000% an incel and while shes not Literally a shut in she is Metaphorically a shut in and i feel like he could really relate to her and also Acquire Another Little Sibling yes this ask has turned into me saying subaru should get more little sibling figures but STILL i think subaru and asa are pretty similar and he’d have good advice for her!!!!!!!!

on the other hand though subaru would definitely pull an otto with pre-time skip armin attack on titan. armins a lot like otto and mikasas similar to rem so im sure subarud get along swimmingly and yell at them to have more self respect wodndnd. pre-time skip, early development eren tho???? subaru would knock him down Several pegs im sure erens Everything (his personality.) is gonna remind him a bit of himself also wkdnsns. that and hes def gonna be like “STOP. BEING A DICK TO MIKASA.” on the Other other hand subaru is gonna get his ass Particularly BEAT if you put him in the csm or aot verse. on the Other Other other hand, subaru is used to making friends while experiencing horrors so maybe he’ll be fine!! having rbd in csm and aot would probs be useful actually its just be total Hell the minute he gets caught up in anything 😭😭😭

anyway this is the most scuffed analysis from me, anon wodnsjs but i hope you enjoyed my answer!!!

[and-stir-the-stars]

Oh yeah, I can completely understand that. I do hope you (and the lovely anon behind the slaughter) will continue to share your daydreams though because I'm enjoying them *immensely*. Mayhaps I will try picking it up someday, but uh... As I said, I completely understand why you can't right now.

I wish you the best with real life, and with your TT fic! ~Dire Kumori

i vastly appreciate your well-wishings; I hope life is treating you well also!

anon and I are still talking about the au; maybe I'll make a sort of masterpost of everything we've been talking about so far and tag you in it someday, but as of now, we're talking about possibly collabing on writing a fic about it in the future, so who knows?

however, I maaaaaaay have written an itty bitty little drabble about if Michael didn't survive the springlocks ;)

Context for the drabble: Mike runs out of power a few hours before 6 am and ends up hiding in the g. Freddy costume, only to realize there's *definitely* a spirit in there. When Mike realizes who the spirit is, he and Evan spend the few hours Mike has left in his shift just... talking and apologizing for everything that happened, both before and during 1983. Except Mike was in for a nasty surprise when he tries getting out of the suit at 6. Now, the drabble picks up with a newly deceased Michael experiencing twenty different kinds of emotional whiplash, and with an emotionally shattered Evan who thinks he did both himself and Michael a favor by activating the springlocks-- after all, Mikey said he loved him. Shouldn't that mean Mike should want to stay?

...

Michael's confused rage and yells crumbled as he caught sight of Evan's face.

Michael had seen that look on Evan’s face before. 

Once when Evan was seven, the kid snuck an old pickle jar out of the trash and ran outside to fill it with dirt and sticks and rocks and, as the sun began to set, with fireflies. 

The next day, Michael found Evan in his room with tears streaming down his face and a jar of countless dead fireflies in his lap. 

Evan hadn’t realized you needed to put holes in the lid to keep the bugs overnight.

Michael had laughed in Evan’s face when he realized what had happened. He had teased Evan relentlessly for days: describing how the fireflies had slowly suffocated in agony and calling Evan a cold-blooded murderer until Evan’s eyes went puffy and his face turned splotchy red with tears.

But calling Evan that… it hadn’t been true back then and, despite the circumstances, deep down, Michael knew it wasn’t true now, either. 

Evan hadn’t killed him out of malice, or anger, or even pettiness. He was that same little kid who had tried to do something good but had instead done something unbelievably cruel simply because he didn’t know any better.

When Evan looked at him, it wasn’t with hatred or venom or sadistic glee. The tears shining in his eyes now were the same ones from when he was seven: the tears of a little kid who thought he had done everything right, who didn’t understand what had gone wrong or why the fireflies weren’t happily flying around the jar like he wanted them to.

He really expected Michael to be happy that he had slowly bled to death, alone in the dark. Almost alone. Evan had been sure to tell Mike that he'd never be alone again.

Michael felt sick in a way that not even witnessing the aftermath of his father’s endless stream of murders could compare to. 

He wished Evan had murdered him in a bloodlust-filled rage. It would have made this so, so much easier.

Michael would have been able to once, but now, no matter how much he wanted to be pissed off at Evan for killing him, Michael couldn’t be angry with the sobbing little kid before him who didn’t even understand what he had done wrong. 

"Evan…"

A laugh ripped out of Michael’s throat, getting louder and more hysterical with every second. 

Nothing here was funny. And yet, everything about this situation was hilarious, wasn't it? It was absolutely absurd.

The little brother Michael remembered was too sensitive to even kill a spider that had crawled its way into the house despite how scared he was of the "creepy crawlies"-- he couldn't have hurt a fly. That same little brother had kept Michael trapped and in agony for hours as he slowly killed him, and Evan wasn’t the least bit sorry for it.

"Do you understand what you did?"

"I got my big brother back." Evan looked up at him through his tears, his expression hurt and seemingly just as terrified of Michael’s sudden laughter as he had been of Michael yelling at him moments before. "...D-Didn't I?"

The laughter died on Michael’s tongue at the pure fear in his little brother's eyes.

(...Why should Evan be sorry for killing him? It… It wasn’t as though Michael didn't deserve it. Evan had only done it out of loneliness because of what Michael had done to him first. At least… at least this way, Evan wasn't– alone, anymore.)

 "Yes," Michael murmured numbly. "Yes, you did." 

Evan's bloody tears seemed to waver as the corners of his mouth twitched into a tentative smile. "And– and this time, you’re staying? You won't leave or… or turn mean again?" 

'I don't exactly have a choice about staying anymore, do I?'

The bitter thought resounded in Michael’s core, but he refrained from vocalizing it.

Even if he did have the option of leaving, Michael's answer would have been the same.

"I– promised you, didn't I?" 

What Evan didn't understand was that Michael saying he was getting out of the suit at 6 a.m. hadn't meant Michael was leaving Evan all alone here. Mike had needed to deal with the spirits in the animatronics outside, yes, but he had always intended to come back for Evan. Always. Evan hadn't needed to– he hadn't needed to– 

Michael swallowed hard, unable to shake off the pain of the springlocks digging into his flesh even now.

If Evan noticed Michael blinking the tears out of his eyes, he didn't say anything. He just waddled forward and buried his face in Michael’s Fazbear-issued security guard jacket. 

Evan's small hands fisted in the jacket as he wrapped Michael in a hug, not quite able to reach all the way around Michael with his childish arms.

Michael tried not to stiffen, knowing those were the hands he had murdered all those years ago.

And the hands that had murdered him right back.

"I love you, Mikey," Evan whispered. 

Blood and tears soaked into the front of Michael’s jacket and stuck to his skin. Michael couldn't quite hold back a shudder as Evan’s fingers wandered too close to one of the countless new wounds penetrating the small of his back and sent a spike of pain up his spine. 

Michael’s head spun as he reached out for the crying child in front of him.  

"I– I love you too, Ev." 

[the-real-psycho-queen]

3:03 am. Violet murmured to herself, her gaze fixed on the ceiling. Night after night, she found herself unable to sleep, lost in a labyrinth of thoughts and regrets. Amidst the chaos, she strangely found a perverse pride in her worst decisions. How did it come to this? Am I losing my sanity? No, maybe... just maybe, I'm unbelievably brilliant.

Glancing at the clock, it read 4:32 am. With a sigh, she reached for a cigarette, aware that rest would elude her once again. Her mind relentlessly raced, inundating her with questions and anxieties, occasionally interrupted by fleeting fantasies that offered temporary respite, only to plunge her back into despair.

At 5:17 am, Violet began to drift into sleep, plagued by the unsettling realization that she had a mere two hours and forty-three minutes before waking up. Clutching her pillow tightly, she struggled in vain to clear her mind. Why do I subject myself to this? Sometimes, I wonder if I deliberately sabotage my own peace... Drama seems to be my ally. Then again, perhaps my mind possesses a will of its own, harboring resentment toward me. Do I despise myself? No. Yes. No. Who truly knows? Maybe even I fail to comprehend my own self... It was 6:48 am when she finally succumbed to slumber, yet her dreams were overrun by the same ruminations that haunted her wakeful hours. Trivial questions and fleeting ideas held her captive throughout the night, and strangely, she didn't despise her sleeplessness as much as she claimed. Exhaustion provided solace a tangible sensation instead of numbing emptiness.

Half-awake, Violet reached for her phone, praying she hadn't overslept again. The time displayed was 8:18 am. She released a sigh of relief mingled with disappointment. I still have a few minutes. No, if I don't rise now, I'll fall back asleep. But maybe I could rest a little longer. What am I saying? Just get up, Violet! Damn it! Why do I always complicate things? Open your eyes and get out of bed, Violet. By the time she managed to rise, it was already 1:08 pm. Panicked, she hurried through her routine, hoping her morning absence had gone unnoticed. As she dashed out of her apartment, she glanced at her phone, flooded with missed messages from earlier. Violet rolled her eyes, cranked up her music to drown out the world, and pondered a better excuse than simply "oversleeping."

Her head spun, her body aching for respite, but time was a luxury she couldn't afford. Immersed in the melodies that filled her mind, she succumbed to their seductive embrace. Creating intricate characters, each with profound personalities, they felt almost real, as if she held their entire lives and emotions in her hands. For a fleeting moment, it seemed as though she observed their existence in a world where she herself didn't belong, a world meticulously crafted with fragments of her essence scattered among each character. Hours would slip away as she indulged in daydreams of this new universe. Yet, as vivid as they were, she would inevitably snap back to reality, realizing that it was all a fabrication. She couldn't divide herself; perhaps she already had without realizing it. After everything she had experienced, it wasn't far-fetched to imagine that she created this imaginary realm as a means to avoid confronting her own life. It was easier to witness someone else endure the pain she couldn't allow herself to feel, someone stronger. But that wasn't reality. Each time her daydreams faded, a profound sadness enveloped her, and she would sigh disappointedly, searching for a new song, a new fantasy, another escape from her own existence. Countless scenarios played out in her mind, none of which featured her as her true self, but rather who she longed to be—each more unrealistic than the last, yet painfully vivid enough to bring tears to her eyes over tragedies she herself had fabricated. It was as if her mind possessed the power to transport her to different dimensions, with music serving as the gateway to each scene.

Lost in thought, she arrived at her destination before she even realized it. *Sigh* I wonder, if I could reside within my own mind, would I descend into madness? Am I already on the brink of insanity? No. Yes. No. Madness and brilliance are closer than we think, but how can I distinguish between the two? My mind sabotages my life, yet it also infuses it with meaning. I feel nothing... but I do feel the music.

[siren-melodies]

Hiii, so idk who else to tell this too but backstory my family has never been religious but lately they have an some points they be making does make sense but some are like I have my own opinion of it

But what has gotten to me is that manifesting is a sin and that we should believe in God and God only and rn idk what to do because I don't want to sin but I also want to manifest my dream life just how I want to live it. The thing is I'm not educated enough in manifesting/loa/non duality even thought I been in this community for almost a year now, to actually tell them about it.

So now I'm stuck.

Religion is a trap, a bubble designed to keep you ignorant. It was created so that you look elsewhere for God when in truth it was you all along. Why would God make the Earth and then not partake of it? There is no other power but you as awareness. Nothing is outside of your control. Religion is full of fuck ass limiting beliefs to make you feel small and incapable. Society is crafted the way it is so that you never awaken to your true identity. It is full of distractions and unnecessary rules and whatnot.. constantly telling you bullshit like you have to work your whole life and slave away, life isn't fair, I'll believe it when I see it, daydreaming is a waste of time, glorified hustle,, superpowers are fantasy and the likes of such. All of this is fantasy to awareness. It is all imagination, a dream. And when you remember who you are, you consciously control the dream. Awareness is in a human body literally just for the experience, to be entertained by it all. You don't need to be educated because there is nothing to learn, just unlearn. This is your rebirth. Start from scratch. In the very first chapter of Genesis in the Bible, God created heaven and earth of of nothing. The world was void and out of nothing, came everything( this is the void y'all) literally mentioned in the very beginning of the holy book. Look it up for yourself. This is why religion and society have done their best best brainwash by the multitude. If people awoke to their true selves, where would there power and authority go? Surely they can't oppress a self-aware God. Lol and a bunch of teenage girls on tumblr fucking know this out of everyone in the world to exist at any point in time. Honestly, it's not even just about manifesting and stuff. That is what ego desires. You are pure awareness experiencing the human body and mind in a dream world. Nothing really matters, never has. You are always awareness. You were before you took on an ego and incarnated, you are during and will be after the character dies. This is a game and it's supposed to be fun! I'm really glad you asked ME this question because I feel I am perfectly qualified to answer. I come from a deeply spiritual family. Starting with my great-great-great grandmother, black magic was heavily practiced in the family, men and women. Seances and speaking to the dead, letting the dead possess your body and speaking through you type of shit. I've always seen and felt dark entities (was attacked a couple times but not anymore bc I'm above those shits) Anywayyyyss, point being that my family went crazy and it passed from generation to generation. Suicides, Drugs, Mental and physical disease, Severe abuse.. until my grandmother decided enough and looked towards Christianity. Now she is a FANATIC. Absolutely ludicrous! It's so amusing hearing her speak about Jesus and crap because in my head I'm going "if only you knew God was right here." She is also one of the dumbest women I know. She believes you shouldn't ask questions about the afterlife and stuff because that is doubting God. And she thinks Saturday is a holy day and you shouldn't even buy anything on that day because it's a sin. She forbids anyone to listen to music and thinks if a woman was raped she has to marry her rapist because sex is holy and the woman is impure... She became a Christian at 19 and now she is pushing 60 with nothing to show for it. She has nothing! Her faith in " God", who is supposed to be a man that lives in the sky, had gotten her absolutely nothing and it is because she is worshipping a false God instead of herself. I don't care if it sounds narcissistic.. Worship Yourself! The moment you want something, give it to yourself. You are not a pathetic little human with it's pathetic little problems. You are sooo much more than this. You are above everything. You are truly privileged to know the truth out of everyone. Everyone else is suffering and going through their own shit, and would kill to know what we know. Don't let this life on Earth go to waste when you can heaven right now! Feel free to DM me for anything

Xoxo,

Jezebel 💜

[kazoosandfannypacks]

Cursed (A season 3 Killian Analysis)

Thinking about how when Zelena said she was going to start killing off the people that Emma loved if Hook didn't use his cursed kiss on her, he probably didn't realize he was even on that list. Obviously, Emma would give up her powers to save Henry, and she probably would've for her parents, probably against their best wishes, but in the end, he's just as suprised as she is when she gives up her magic to save him.

I can only imagine what was going through Killian's mind as Zelena's magic held him underwater. Sure, he'd considered the possibility of drowning before, what with being a pirate, probably walking the plank to some untimely demise. In his daydreams of death, he'd died for something noble, heroic even, like his crew or his ship or some great revenge.

But of all the causes he'd risk his life for, the noblest was love. That's what he was dying for now, wasn't it? For Emma? If he were to perish in these waters, it would be to save her and her family- if she'd kept herself from his cursed kiss while he lived, it would be much easier once he was gone, lost to the waters to save her own soul. He liked the thought of dying a hero, even if it was his own actions, his own kiss he was saving her from.

So imagine the pain and disbelief as he awakes again- not as the hero who silently saved her from losing her powers, but as the greedy pirate who's life she saved, dooming herself and her family to nonexistence. She could've lived and defeated Zelena and lived the rest of her life happily ever after.

And instead she chose to save him- to deprive him of a daring sacrifice and save his life- but save him to what? With no way to stop Zelena now, she'd turn back time, create a world without Regina or Snow or Emma- Emma would be gone, no way for her to wander into his life and turn it upside down- he'd still be a miserable pirate chasing a daydream of revenge, without a savior to pull him out of it.

But I think a part of him was also bummed that he missed it. Her kiss in Neverland was intoxicating, and, sure, it may have been nothing to her, but it was everything to him, and he'd longed for it since then. When he found her in New York and tried to kiss her- a foolish tactic, to be sure- she wasn't really her, their history, their chemistry- it was gone, and he worked so hard to bring her back, then patiently waited again to woo her back to him.

When Zelena told him his kiss would steal her magic from her, I'm sure he felt a bit glad that she wasn't ready for him yet, for the town's sake, but when she said her family would die if he didn't kiss Emma, well, I imagine that, while a part of him was planning out how to save her magic and her family, that little voice in the back of his head was saying "and if our plan fails, if she does have to lose her magic, at least my lips will cross paths with hers one last time."

So then imagine how infuriating it must've been for him to realize that not only had he failed at being the hero and she had lost her powers, but, as a rotten touch of irony, he hadn't even been conscious for her kiss, if you could even call it that. He'd lost his opportunity for the moment he'd been waiting for.

This adds some reasoning to the epsiode where they go back in time, and he punches himself out, so to speak. Here he's been longing for her, yearning after her for weeks, and here she is, kissing this drunken former shadow of himself who isn't even sober or experienced enough to appreciate the good thing he's got right in front of him. No wonder he felt the need to clock himself from the past- because he'd spent half a season earning her kiss, and this version of himself got it for free? It'd almost be bad form not to absolutley deck himself.

broken | cursed | kisses | his princess

[mirandaroggio]

Thoughts Moon Bin shared for us to learn from him. Because I won’t forget the time MoonBin dedicated to us.

2204 Arena Interview translation

그러한 창작 습관이 활동에 영향을 주기도 하나? 
그렇지. 아스트로로서든, 문빈으로서든. 글을 쓸 때, 메타포에 의미를 응축하기 위해 늘 상상한다. 그런 상상력이 무대에 설 때도 큰 도움이 되고, 연기할 때도 그렇다. 상상을 워낙 즐기는데, 좋지 않은 영향을 미칠 때도 물론 있다. 
Do such creative habits also affect activities?

It is Whether as Astro or Moonbin. When I write, I always fantasise to condense meaning into a metaphor. That kind of imagination is a big help when you stand on stage, and it's also when you're acting. I enjoy my imagination so much, but of course there are times when it has a bad effect.

어떤 때인가? 
공상에 너무 깊이 빠지면 최악의 상황까지 떠올리게 된다. 불안을 느끼면 멈춰야 하는데, 계속 떠올라 실수할 때도 있다. 중요한 일에 집중을 못한다든지. 그런 면이 부정적이지만 상상을 멈추기엔 긍정적인 부분이 더 크다.

What time is it?

If you go too deep into your daydreaming, you'll even think of the worst. If you feel anxious, you have to stop, but sometimes you keep thinking and making mistakes. I can't concentrate on important things. That aspect is negative, but the positive part is greater to stop the imagination.

감각이 무뎌진다는 게 어떤 의미인가? 
새로운 것에 더욱 잘 적응한다는 의미다. 거의 모든 것을 경험했고 이젠 익숙해졌으니까. 무대 위에서 덜 예민하고 더 자연스럽다.

What does it mean to be numb?

It means adjusting to new things better. I've experienced almost everything and now I'm used to it. Less sensitive and more natural on stage.

문빈에게 용기 주는 말은 어떤 것이 있나? 
위로의 말들. ‘괜찮아, 잘했어, 충분해.’ 몇 글자 안 되는 단어지만 그 단어들이 주는 힘은 대단하더라. 
What kind of words give you courage, Moonbin?

Words of consolation ‘It’s okay, good job, that’s enough.’ It's a few words, but the power of those words is amazing.

오늘, 스스로에게 어떤 말을 해주고 싶나? 
힘내고, 고생했다.

Today, what do you want to say to yourself? 
Cheer up, you did a good job.

[byjinni]

Reflections on Yeonmi Park's While Time Remains

Yeonmi Park’s story is thought provoking— a North Korean defector who defied all odds and has dedicated her life to bringing awareness to the suffering of the North Korean people and exposing the political powers that are complicit in said suffering.

To be honest, there are times when her story makes me doubtful, and a quick Google search will lead to videos and articles poking holes into her narrative. Park has addressed these accusations and attributes any discrepancies to the difficultly of sharing a complex story in an unfamiliar language and the nature of memories, especially traumatic memories— that they can be imperfect and subjective. There were times while reading this book that the atrocities committed within North Korea (particularly the detailing of forced abortions) were so gruesome that a part of me wanted to believe that it was an exaggeration. Then there is the ever present skeptic within me that questions literally everything that she reads. However, the cynical realist also within me knows that there are real depths of wickedness that I cannot even begin to imagine, that there are impossibly terrible crimes being committed against humanity in all corners of the world.

So why am I beginning this review by casting doubt upon the author’s credibility? For those of you who are familiar with my beliefs, I hope you understand that I have the best of intentions and simply want to encourage you to always think for yourself. Come to your own conclusions about what is true, don’t be a sponge that indiscriminately believes everything, be discerning. If you care for my opinion (and my guess is you do if you have read even this far), I believe enough of Park’s story to care. As a Korean American, I was aware from a young age that horrible things happened in the Hermit Kingdom and associated the Kim regime with evil. But unless you have personally experienced anything, is it possible to know anything with absolute certainty? Who knows...for all my ignorance, North Korea could very well be a real life Wakanda, though deductive reasoning leads me to believe that is unlikely. I digress…

All this to say, I did enjoy reading While Time Remains. It made me think a lot and question a lot, and I consider that a pretty great thing. Whether or not you trust Park, whether or not you align with her politics, I think that there are a lot of important topics she addresses.

Park describes North Korea as “… the Earth’s longest-running experiment in deliberately managed human misery, a perpetual crime against God, an interminable violation of human dignity, a black mark on the human species so dark and deep that it can almost make you ashamed to be a part of it—that it can make the individual human beings incarcerated there spend the entirety of their short lives dreaming and daydreaming of living instead as a bird, or even a mouse.”

Earth’s longest-running experiment in deliberately managed human misery… these words struck a particular cord of horror within me. Am I a part of this experiment?

Park takes time to share the reactions of world leaders when they hear her story: “lots of tears, lots of embracing and hand-shaking, lots of solicitous empathy and offers to help, all followed by lots of silence.”

Silence.

Does my own silence make me complicit in this human experiment?

It’s easy to condemn politicians, celebrities, and billionaires who care more about lining their pockets and maintaining the status quo, who make shows of sympathy and empty promises. It’s easy to see how they have the power to do something but choose not to. It’s easy to say that I’m just a twenty-something year old girl with no political power or social influence, that my words and actions have no real impact in the grand scheme of things, that I have no recourse but to stand by and watch things play out. But is that the truth?

I believe that one of the main points that Park was trying to bring across in her book, is that this is in fact, very far from the truth. Hope lies not in politicians or governments or institutions, but in the individual.

I’m reminded of a quote from The Crowd: A Study of the Popular Mind by Gustave le Bon:

“Men are ruled by ideas, sentiments, and customs—matters which are of the essence of ourselves. Institutions and laws are the outward manifestation of our character, the expression of its needs. Being its outcome, institutions and laws cannot change this character.”

True power for change lies within the individual. Certainly there are individuals with greater influence, political power, or financial means, but that does not negate the power that is inherent in every individual. Earlier, I said that I believe Park enough to care, but what good is it to simply care if there are no actions? To be honest, I'd like to believe in my individual power to make a difference in society, but it's hard to see how one girl--pretty average by all measures--can make a difference in the lives of not only my brothers and sisters in North Korea, but my brothers and sisters in my country, my city, my neighborhood. At the end of the book, Park emphasizes the importance of getting involved in our communities, of caring about local elections, and developing a sense of personal responsibility. Maybe this post will make a difference, perhaps if even one more person finds a reason to care about the suffering of the North Korean people and the enabling of such suffering by the Chinese Communist Party, then maybe together we can become an even greater power for change. If enough people care, then the issue can no longer be brushed under the rug, right?

The book in general is well balanced. The main topic, Park's personal road to freedom and the great suffering of the North Korean people at the hands of a tyrannical dictatorship, can be very dark and heavy. Furthermore, Park paints a depressing future for our country if we continue down the path of wokeism, cancel culture, and anti-capitalism, as she quotes Ronald Reagan:

"Freedom is a fragile thing and it's never more than one generation away from extinction. It is not ours by way of inheritance, it must be fought for and defended constantly by each generation, for it comes only once to a people. And those in world history who have known freedom and then lost it have never known it again."

But ultimately, it is Park's love for life and freedom that permeates her narrative, reminding me that there is always hope.

To end this post, I'd like to share a couple more quotes from the book that I found to be of interest:

“Many people think that human beings inherently know and understand justice and injustice, that we’re each innately born with a robust ethical conscience that can clearly identify what is right and what is wrong. I believe that this is nonsense. All it takes is a quick scan of history to understand that the human experience has been mostly defined by violence, crime, starvation, and oppression. Concepts of justice are not inherent to highly evolved primates, they are unique and precarious achievements of human civilization. Acquiescence to slavery is the default human setting. Without the Enlightenment, there would have been no counter-default movement for abolition.”

“It was then that I realized what happiness is. It’s nothing other than a synonym for love and gratitude. Happiness is not material success or recognition or even comfort. It’s becoming a parent, being a good daughter, being a good friend, and lending a helping hand to anyone less fortunate. What this meant was that finding meaning in life was not an arduous search that may or may not end in gratification. Meaning, it turns out, is not difficult to find at all. As many wise people have pointed out, happiness is a choice. My mother once told me that without gratitude, happiness is impossible. 'When I ask God for happiness,' she said, 'he tells me instead to learn to be grateful.' She (and He) was right.”

"And that is why capitalism is so inimical to authoritarianism. Self-professed enemies of capitalism claim that their opposition is to inequality, or to injustice, or to exploitation—all of which of course are worse in socialist systems than in capitalist ones. But the true aim of anticapitalism is not justice or social betterment—it is to narrow the boundaries within which people are capable of thinking for themselves. The freedom that capitalism grants to individual human beings to think and act for themselves, thereby accumulating wealth, is the reason it is under increasing suspicion in America today."

[muffinswritingstuff]

Non-fatal Hanahaki Disease can be so cute, though... I totally get it, we all need some truly tear-jerking drama once in a while, characters' suffering is our life force, etcetera – but! What about... a thought experiment? One that, as a bonus (and what a nice bonus it is!), heals your heart and soul and refreshes your spirit...?

Yep, agreed, would be great, let's begin immediately!

*unangstefies your favorite trope*

∆

Ok, option #1:

A pretty common one, you've probably already seen it, which doesn't make it any less adorable. Flower crowns! :]

Character has a dorky daydream – poof! a daisy behind their ear.

[ Further examples are as nonexistent as my capability of experiencing affection of the romantic caliber. ]

I feel like flower crown Hanahaki can indicate a simple crush, so as those first surface-level feelings start to fade, the flowers start to dry out along with them, eventually falling out.

[ The "supernatural" variant of this one is the, let's call it, flower field: when the character with the feelings makes the ground around them sprout flowers whenever. I'm sure you've seen it at least once. It's fucking unreal in its overwhelming cuteness, isn't it. That's a hypothetical question, of course it is.

...But I'm always open to suggestions...

This is not quite Hanahaki, because it's not related to the Infatuated body whatsoever, but oh well, it's worth a mention. ]

∆

Small Tangent/Interlude:

I'm about to make all your Hades/Persephone AUs tooth-rottingly sweet. I'm coming for them all today, apparently. (Flowers just make everything lighter and brighter, man, I dunno what to tell you...) Forgive the incoming blasphemy towards mythology.

Make the Persephone character into a flower bundle. Flowers flying from their sleeves, falling from their hair, seemingly right from their fingertips. Not, like, all the time, obviously. And this whole ordeal is not meant to show that Persephone's "too emotional", not at all: at first, it can be a show of power –

as the kids call it nowadays, a power move,

– a visual demonstration of, "Look at how I stand out, I don't belong here, take me back, you weird mole"; their creations die as soon as they touch the Underworld's surface (if you can call it that...), so obviously they can neither "be of use" here, nor will they be able to truly thrive; yet they are still able to use their powers almost entirely to their full extent.

But then it smoothly transitions into an unintentional display of vulnerability: rhododendrons and yellow carnations and lavender and orange lilies and black roses (and all that good stuff) turn to... other possible options, of which there are many. It depends, is what I'm saying – I can't (and don't particularly want to) write out every possible way this underground flower journey develops.

It is now in your hands, if you wish to accept it, young padawan.

∆

Option #2:

Forget-me-nots.

[ or something. i don't know what to call these... ]

This one is suddenly a bit more complicated.

Not all forget-me-nots are, well, forget-me-nots.

Forget-me-nots appear on a person body whenever they experience extremely strong emotion towards/because of their loved one. At first it's an actual flower that blooms from your skin, and when it peacefully withers away what's left of it is a tattoo, essentially, – a small flower of the same meaning as the previously experienced emotion.

Imagine an elderly couple. They've been together for a long, long time and absolutely adore each other. One's left shoulder is completely covered in heliotropes, yellow lilies and dwarf sunflowers, while the other's neck blooms with blue and purple hydrangeas and irises.

There's a story there, in the gardens of lovely flowers on their very skin, and I making myself cry.

There might be a reason as to why the forget-me-nots grow in such and such places, or... not. There is beauty in spontaneity.

∆

Option #3:

Flower bracelets.

Let's say a character's crush touched their forearm. A few hours later and – oh, what's this? – a pretty (sick) flower bracelet has grown in that exact spot.

There can be frustrating obliviousness, or genuine forgetfulness, or something else. Maybe the Infatuated is, like, chill about their crush, so they themselves forget to evade the "incriminating" touches or aren't scared of them in the first place.

It all depends on the dynamic, y'know.

∆

Option #4:

Fantasy AU, let's go.

A full-scale flower grows right from the Infatuated's chest, from the heart.

Again, we're talking about non-fatal Hanahaki here, so it's much more fairytale-like than some would probably prefer.

If you, understandably, immediately want to ask, "How would you hide, like, a peony, or any other flower that is not a wild aster, from the public eye?"

Then I will offer up fancy puffy shirts, ponchos, extravagant and/or downright bleak coats for your consideration.

∆

I stole this idea from myself. Scandalous, isn't it. Me, out here, throwing around essential story aspects as if they're mere ideas.

Sigh.

∆

Ok, I think that's it.

I'm out of ideas, at least at this very moment. Terribly sorry indeed, what it is what it is.

I sincerely hope I didn't come of as trying a wee bit too hard to come up with something, because I certainly wasn't. I also hope you've enjoyed the brainstorming session, and will come from it with a fresher mind and a deeper appreciation for everything flowery and not-so-angsty.

[elaineonline]

𝗢𝗯𝘀𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗲 | 𝗧𝗼𝗷𝗶 𝗙𝘂𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗴𝘂𝗿𝗼

CHAPTER SEVEN

next on 𝗢𝗯𝘀𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗲 previously on 𝗢𝗯𝘀𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗲

warnings this chapter: strong language, oral sex (m.receiving), fluff, both Toji and reader are hopeless romantics, mental illness (implied)

summary : 3 years after murdering your ex husband, building a relationship with Toji Fushiguro is a struggle to keep what you've done in the past in the secret.

NOTE: one last chapter after this one… *cries* so sorry i’ve been a little lazy on the last couple of chapters (ノ﹏ヽ).. I hope you enjoy!

tags (^^;) ~ @m00dycr4nkybitc @bubs-world @brumous11 @tojisslvtsstuff @milena-xoxo @princesstiti14 @sage-ove

reblogs are fine with me :D

TWO DAYS LATER

It's been two days since you told Toji everything that has happened in the past, and to your surprise, he has opted to keep you around. You were ecstatic about it.

It felt like a large burden had been removed from your shoulders, and the relief you were experiencing was present.

You were currently wearing an ice pack on one arm as a result of Toji's horrible boxing class that next morning in his garage, while typing away on your laptop with the other hand, preparing for another day in fucking customer service.

You glance down at the time in the lower left hand corner of your computer and feel almost giddy at the prospect of only having to wait five minutes to get off.

Another reason you were excited was because you finally felt it was necessary to ask Toji over, one of the reasons being that his birthday is tomorrow, the other reason that you’ve never invited him over. You will be unable to see him because you have work and we’re forced to work through a later time.

But you invited him over tonight to prepare for him; you hadn't cooked in years due to all the takeout you'd order, which you knew was highly unhealthy. However, since you've become happier, you've chosen to resurrect your cooking abilities for him and yourself.

You also intended to show up at your parents ’ home in the same way she did at yours, in the hopes that she wouldn't transfer places. But you doubt she'd ever give up the house she's lived in since she was in her early twenties, the same house you've lived in since you were five years old. All you needed were answers, to know if your dream with your ex husband was correct. You also wanted to tell your daughter more, she's almost seven years old now, and you believe she deserves it, especially since you know you won’t see her often because of your parents.

You're still daydreaming about what you were thinking about and staring at the time on your computer clock when you hear a sudden knock at the door, jolting you both out of your daydream and thoughts.

“I didn’t order anything.” You mutter as you get from your couch and power walk to the front door.

This time since you’re somewhat sober, you glance through the peephole, there are no guarantees of what surprises could be there this time.

Through the peep hole, you see Toji's figure standing on top of your doormat, something you weren't expecting to see so early.

You immediately swing the door wide with the arm that isn't in pain, greeting him with a smile as you step to the side, a smile that he returns as he steps onto your hardwood floor.

“So you finally let me in, huh?” As he looks around, he says keeping a small grin on his face.

You hum as a response as you close and lock the door, then turn around to see him surveying the place, slightly apprehensive about what he was thinking.

"So what are you hiding?" he asks, turning his head back to you. because I see nothing wrong with the damn place.” he says in a curious tone.

the beer bottles that had taken up the damn residence on the flooring.

"Well, it wasn't always like this," you say before realizing work has probably ended and that you needed to clock out. Toji only observes you, as you cutely run back to your laptop and bend over to do so.

You close your computer and return your attention to him as he walks over to your kitchen table and takes a seat in the kitchen chair. And as you scanned his face, you could see how fatigued he appeared, as indicated by the dark rings that lightly covered beneath his eyes.

Toji would've gone home to rest before showing up at your door, but he wanted to come over and watch you cook the food before eating it, since he was so intrigued by the thought of watching you cook.

When you told him you could cook, he secretly couldn't believe it.

"Long day?" you remark, frowning, in a sympathetic tone that Toji adored, before stepping into your kitchen and getting your favorite apron from the counter top.

"mhm," he replies, crossing his arms and relaxing in his chair, little stressed by the number of people he had to kill today. Not because he had to kill them, but because there were so many.

Before coming up with a wonderful idea, you tilted your head and pondered to yourself for a second.

"Did you need any of that stress relieved before I started cooking?" You inquire, a little grin on your face, making eye contact with him, knowing he already knew what you were implying.

he chuckles a little and just responds, "sure." Before you give him a nod,

You walk over to the table, kneel down on your knees , and crawl under it, hoping not to knock your head in the process.

You tuck your hair behind your ears, and he grins at you. Before making eye contact with him, you return your gaze to his pants, putting your hand on the crotch area.

You were suddenly less concerned with your hurting arm and more concerned with pleasing him at the moment.

Before unbuttoning and dragging the zipper down from his pants, you bring both of your hands up on his jeans, balancing yourself on your clothed knees.

Toji was already intensely aroused, and he badly wanted this right now.

His cock was freed by your warm touch, causing his deep voice to hum gently, and that sound got you incredibly excited.

You raise the tip of his cock to your lips with the base of his cock before giving it a soft kiss as a thank you for the cum you were about to receive, causing it to twitch slightly.

You take a deep breath and open your mouth before carefully taking the entire thing, inch by inch. Toji groaned softly already starting to feel relief, giving you even more confidence.

You begin by gently bobbing your head with your eyes closed, mentally reminding yourself to do a fantastic job. This isn't the first or second time you've done so.

Toji places his big hand on your head, guiding you a little as you start to move at a more normal or whether 'faster' speed.

Toji adored hearing your small hums and moans as you took it all in stride with his cock in your mouth. Which, thanks to his reactions, you already knew.

Damn this is what her ex husband walked out on? Along with leaving her pretty face behind every night, he had to be mentally ill. Toji thinks.

Toji muttered under his breath every time he felt his tip, coupled with the vibration of your hums, hit the back of your gummy throat.

When you open your eyes to be greeted, you make eye contact with Toji's dark green eyes, which draws him even more over the edge as knowing he was soon going to spill into your warm mouth and down your throat.

As his fat cock stretched your mouth with each movement of your head, tears welled up in your eyes and saliva began to trickle from down and out of your mouth, onto the ground.

Toji brings his free hand to wipe away your tears using his large thumb while his occupied hand grips your hair.

With his rough voice, he slightly draws out the word "shit." and throws his head back before spewing his warm cum down your throat.

To avoid choking, you hurriedly swallow with his large cock remaining in your mouth before pulling him out with a loud 'pop'.

You smile up at him, trying to regain your breath, knowing you did an amazing job.

lowering his head back down, he gives you a grin along with a head pat as a ‘great job.’

~

Toji scarfs down the handmade lasagna you made with the recipe your grandmother gave you years ago as you watch slowly, your mouth also full of food.

At the sight in front of you, you stifle a small giggle while keeping your mouth closed. Now you're wishing you hadn't left your phone in your bedroom to film him.

you thought of the ‘Damn little lady! you sure can’t put it away.’ Audio on tiktok from the movie ‘White Chicks’ while watching him.

Toji noticed you staring at him while swallowing the food in your mouth, so he gives you a side eye, which makes you giggle even harder.

"It's great, isn't it?" And you questioned my cooking skills." When you stop laughing and glare at him, you taunt him, and he glares back.

Your eyes widen as he shoves the meal down his throat in one swallow. "Whatever," he adds, "you did fine kid."

You hum as you return your gaze to your plate, your fork still in your hand, and continue to eat; Toji follows suit and does the same thing, humming as well.

You thought it was cute for him to follow the things you did at times.

~

Toji lay there tickling you nonstop seconds before slamming you onto the bed. You were both currently in your bedroom which you guys traveled to after you two were done eating, the room which was smaller than his.

"Okay!" you scream in between laughs as you toss and turn in an attempt to escape being tickled on your sides or anywhere else, which he ignores.

This is what you get for casually trying to tickle him even though you know he hates it and forgetting he's much stronger than you.

"Say it!" He raises his voice with a grin on his face, removing his hands from your body but leaving them out, as if he expects you to say no.

He grips your body and pulls him closer to you while you collect your breath without saying anything. You say "I'm sorry!" because you're afraid he'll tickle you again. He grins, satisfied.

"I hate you," you joke while also smiling, burying your head against his firm, but comfortable chest.

He throws his arms around your body and grips you tightly but not too tight, kissing the top of your head before putting his head on top of yours. His gruff voice booms against his chest, "Shut up."

You blush at what he just did, as you normally do when you're in his presence. When you were with him, you’re so happy that you even noticed yourself drinking less, which is obviously a big deal for you.

You never imagined any man could make you feel this way in such a short period of time; you didn't even have feelings for your ex husband this quickly.

Toji felt the same way; in fact, when he first saw his wife, he didn't like her. Despite the fact that she had changed him.

Toji had a strong attachment to you, even on the rare nights that when you weren’t there. You’re always on his mind.

While you two were in this position, there was a pleasant silence; you were both feeling drowsy and would soon fall asleep. Toji was able to bring up Megumi from the day care later tonight, which was fortunate.

“Hey.” Toji interrupts the silence, his eyelids drooping slightly from the strain. "hmm?" you respond, your eyes already closed and your eyes fixed on darkness.

"Do you ever think about your daughter?" he asks abruptly. your pulse skips a beat as your eyes widen significantly, not at all expecting the question.

Toji planned to ask when you were recounting your past, but he decided to wait a little since you were having such a hard time explaining.

He merely wanted to know how you felt about being around his son more than your kid, so you huff before saying, "Everyday."

Toji just gives a nod before closing his eyes. When he does it, you can tell as you feel his chin goes up and down on your head.

You two were probably going to fall asleep this time if you fell into stillness again. You hoped there would be no questions this time, so you wouldn't have to dwell about it all night.

“I love ya’ kid.” Toji mumbles before collapsing into a deep sleep.

Your heart drops in astonishment As you sat with the words for a few minutes, hoping it wasn't the glass of wine just speaking for him.

But he’s a heavyweight. you thought.

Even when you feel yourself falling in and out of sleep, his words continue to reverberate in your thoughts after a few moments.

Until the final words, “I love you too.” take over your brain before falling into a deep rest.

[mypoisonedvine]

𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 || werewolf!Lee Bodecker x reader

summary: being the sherriff’s department’s crime scene photographer means seeing terrible things.  following lee bodecker into the woods means experiencing terrible things.

word count: almost exactly 4k

warnings: smut (noncon but she comes around eventually, if you will), werewolf sex (so...pseudo-bestiality??? but like... not really??), breeding kink, knotting, some a/b/o tropes?, kinda some degradation?,  violence, vague-ish description of gore

Something undeniably wicked was lurking in the woods behind Knockemstiff, Ohio.  That much was obvious.

It wasn’t your first gig as a crime scene photographer, so you knew what to expect; or, you thought you did.  This town was nothing like Toledo, though, in all the worst ways.  You’d left the big city in hopes that you wouldn’t have to see another drive-by shooting, another stockbroker who jumped out of his office, another mafia job left out in the street to serve as an example for would-be testifiers.  You’d left to escape some of the brutality that the urban environment brought.  And to be fair, it wasn’t anything like that, but it wasn’t at all better.  

You’d never seen a cut this deep before.  You’d never seen a body nearly turned inside out.

“It’s that damn bear,” the officer nearby announced, his words failing to distract you from your task of photographing the bloodied remains.  “This happened a couple months ago, body just like this turned up.  Thought we shot the damn thing but I guess we got the wrong one.”

“That can’t be right,” you frowned, stepping back and lowering the camera from your face; it looked worse when it wasn’t seen through the viewfinder, it looked more real.  “Bears might maul people, but they don’t… eat them.”

“They do if they get hungry enough,” he sighed.  

“Do you really believe that?” you pressed.

“I need to.”

The conversation was still echoing in your head as you drove back to the station, which was still bustling despite the day being just about to end.  

You stopped by your desk to grab a folder from your top drawer, "FOR SHERIFF" written in big letters on the front.  Tucking it under your arm, you navigated through the officers and secretaries mulling about to the back hallway of the station, finding the last door on the left and knocking even though it was already halfway open.

“Good evenin’ little lady,” Sheriff Bodecker greeted with a smile when he looked up at you, “got somethin’ for me?”

“Photos from yesterday,” you explained, stepping inside and setting the folder down on his desk.  He opened it and flipped through your shots, nodding slightly.  

"Looks good," he praised— gruff and monotone, but praise nonetheless.  "I think it's enough to prove who was driving recklessly and who was just driving."

"Think they'll be all right?" you asked, remembering how one of the car crash survivors looked as they were being wheeled into an ambulance.

He sighed a little, setting the folder down.  "Seems so, last I heard."

"That's good…" you trailed off, toying with the strap of your camera nervously, studying his face as he looked down at some paperwork in front of him.

You were a career woman, working in a male-dominated profession, and you had so much to prove… but god, if you didn't sometimes fantasize about the Sheriff in ways you knew you shouldn't.  In spite of the fact that you were sure he wanted an obedient housewife, and that that was something you could never be, you'd been known to daydream about another life where he wasn't your boss and you weren't so worried about what other people thought and the two of you could be together.

Or, on other occasions, you just wished Knockemstiff was as liberal as Toledo, so you could have a fling with him and not worry about everybody calling you a harlot.

Either way, it could never happen.  You worked with him and he worked with you; he was looking to settle down and you were looking to start your life.  It was a basic incompatibility.  That didn't stop you from letting your gaze linger on his hands, admiring how strong and thick they were.  God, you wish he'd just grab you—

"Anything else I can do for ya?" he asked slowly, that deep voice making the question sound just a bit more dirty than he likely meant it.

"No, that'll be all," you decided, giving him a polite nod before you slipped out of his office.  

Sometimes, it felt like the only chance you got to really think during the day was when you were alone in your darkroom.  The photo development equipment here was significantly more primitive than what the Toledo Police Department had been able to provide, but you didn’t mind; if anything, it brought you back to your roots, when you were just a newbie photographer who wanted to make compelling art, take photos that would end up on magazine covers or beside hard-hitting journalism.  

That dream had been dashed quite some time ago, but you really did enjoy your job more often than not.  Sure, it came with a lot of gruesome imagery, but at least it was important, and interesting.  

You couldn't be sure what time it was— with no windows and no clocks, and with hours always flying by when you were developing film— but the lack of any noise from outside your darkroom made it clear that it was quite late and everyone had left.

It was odd, then, that you did hear a noise from outside the room, like floorboards creaking.  You were ready to blame the old building settling until you heard it again.

“...hello?” you asked hesitantly, the sterile echo of your voice only making you just that much more paranoid.  “Is someone there?  I’m just here developing my film…”

The red lights cast everything in an eerie glow— bright enough to see, but not enough to assuage your fear.

You opened the door to your darkroom slowly, careful not to let too much light in, and peered down the dark, empty halls.  An uneasy feeling awakened in your gut and you swallowed nothing before hesitantly stepping out into the dark.

Another creak from around the corner made you turn, walking towards the noise and considering calling out again but suddenly afraid to speak at all.

A man's form appeared in front of you out of nowhere.

“Oh!” you gasped, but you sighed a bit when you recognized the badge glistening on his chest.  “Sheriff, shit, you scared me…”

“Sorry, little lady,” he breathed, “didn’t know you were still here…”

“Come in, if I leave this door open too long it’ll let light in,” you explained, pointing to where the street lamp outside shined into the window and ushering him past you into the darkroom.

“What’re you still wearin’ that damn camera for?” he asked, pointing to your hip where it was slung at your side from over your shoulder, making you giggle a little as you shut the door behind the both of you.

“Force of habit.  Never know when something worth photographing might take place,” you explained, returning to the tub of ammonium thiosulfate where you were dipping another glossy print.  

“If somethin’ worth takin’ a picture of happens while you’re stuck in here, I think you’ll’ve got bigger problems than not having your camera,” he smirked.

“Fair enough,” you scoffed.  “Let’s hope I never need to take pictures like these—” you tilted your head towards the pictures you’d hung to try— “unexpectedly.”  Lee sauntered over to where you’d motioned, pulling one the more developed photos from the clothespins.  “That’s the body we found in the woods,” you informed him, “I’m surprised you weren’t called in— it’s pretty gnarly.”

“Sweet girl like you shouldn’t have to see stuff like this,” he shook his head, sighing somberly.  

“I can handle it,” you shrugged, “Believe it or not, I saw worse working mob cases.”

“I’m going with ‘not,’” he answered quickly.  

He was right not to believe you, and you weren’t sure what to say now that he’d called your bluff.

“What… what perfume are you wearing?”

The question threw you off but you figured no harm could come from answering honestly.  “I’m, uh, I’m not…”

He stepped closer, his footsteps soft but audible on the carpeted floor as his form settled behind yours.  Your breath caught when his fingers trailed over your arm and he leaned in, pressing his face to the side of your head as he breathed in.  “You smell good,” he stated plainly, deep voice vibrating in your ears and making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“Um… thank you…” you answered, hearing your voice waver.  

Just when you thought he might make a move (was this already a move?), and just when you thought you might actually reciprocate if he did, he pulled away.  “I should… I’m sorry, I oughta— I have work to get done.”

Before you could even begin to wonder what he was talking about, he had already slipped out of the darkroom and back into the hall.  Oddly enough, you were sure you heard him start running the second the door was shut.  You considered shrugging it off and getting back to work, but the more you thought about it, the more you were worried.  Most of all, you wondered if he had seen something in your photographs that gave him a lead on what killed the poor old man.  

That possibility needed to be investigated further.

So, you powered down your equipment and left the darkroom, leaving just in time to see the Sheriff stumble out of the back door of the station, seeming to be limping slightly.

Too curious now to stay away, you followed his path and pushed the door open with your weight, seeing him making a mad dash for the nearby treeline.

“No, Lee, the woods—!” you warned, horrified to imagine that he could meet the same fate as the man in your photographs.  You weren’t dressed well enough for the weather— already the evening breeze blew against your bare legs and made you shiver— but you forged ahead regardless.

The moon light was just enough to illuminate your path at first, but as the clouds moved and the tree cover grew thicker, squinting just didn’t do enough to help you see.  Generally, you weren’t afraid of the dark, but this was different… it was cold, and you were alone; but you didn’t feel quite as alone as you would’ve liked to.  You called out for Lee, only hearing the gentle rustle of the leaves and the occasional snapping of twigs on the ground.

At about the same time you considered turning back and using one of the station phones to call some officers for a search, you heard something.  A whine, maybe, or a whimper.  You weren’t sure what it was; it only just barely sounded human.

“Lee, are you out there?” you called, whipping your head around wildly.  

In desperate need of light to navigate your way, you had a moment of insight and reached for the camera slung by your hip.  You relieved yourself of the shoulder strap, pointed the camera ahead, and opened up the flash.

CLICK.  A brief moment of light gave you at least an idea of where you were standing.  It was impossible not to notice how similar it looked to the background of the photos you had just been developing.  You realized, then, that you’d worried so much for Lee’s safety in these woods, but hadn’t considered your own.

Lee, at least, had a gun.  You just had a camera.  Both could shoot, but only one could protect you.

CLICK.  You moved in the direction that you remembered as clear.  It was even harder to see in the dark after the bright light had burned your eyes slightly, and you longed to reach out ahead to feel out your path yet found yourself too terrified of what you might touch.  You could hear the flash charging between shots, you knew well enough by now what it sounded like when the camera was ready to shoot again.

CLICK.  Something white reflected back in the distance, so you moved that way, nearly tripping on a root for your trouble.  

The cloud over the moon finally blew away, and just barely— finally— your eyes could make out the shape of Lee, leaned against a tree and breathing deep and fast.  His back was turned to you, but even then you could see he didn’t look well, his back bending and swelling with each panting breath that grew louder as you stepped closer.

“Oh my god, Sheriff?!” you squawked, sprinting closer.  “Are you alright?” you asked loudly, but when you reached out to touch him he spun to look at you, eyes wild and teeth bared.

“Leave,” he growled between panting breaths.

“You… you’re…” you tried to begin, but you were speechless as you tried to imagine what trick of the light could make him look like he was getting taller, like his eyes and face were shifting.

“GO!” he bellowed.

You stumbled back, dropping your camera but too terrified to even hear the bulb shatter as it hit the ground.  Your legs couldn’t move right, your eyes couldn’t look away from what you were seeing, and what you were seeing… you couldn’t describe it, couldn’t understand it.  

It didn’t look like what scary stories and picture books told you a werewolf was.  It didn’t look like an animal; it sure as hell didn’t look like a person.  Disturbingly, it still looked a bit like Lee, even though his Sheriff’s uniform was tearing at the seams from his morphing, swelling body.  His cries were broken and twisted as his face seemed to be overtaken by teeth— so many teeth— and dark fur.  

Ultimately, one last command to "go" was lost to a howl.

You finally managed to get your brain and body on the same page, turning and scrambling to run away, hearing him chase behind you.  

He walked on two legs but ran on four, his snarls coming closer and closer as you made a mad dash for the distant light of the police station.  Cold wind blew past you as you sprinted, coming to a sudden halt as you tripped and landed on the ground.  Leaves crunched under your hands and feet as you tried to stand back up, but he was already above you, tossing you to the ground again and pinning you at your shoulders.

You tried to kick him away once he'd turned you into your back, but it was laughable— pitiful, even.  When he curled his lips back to brandish his glistening fangs, growling deeply, you were too stunned to fight.  But you could beg.

“Lee, please, please don’t eat me,” you sobbed.

“I didn’t turn to feed,” he informed you, and it almost sounded like Lee, aside from the depth and roughness that shook you to your core.  “I turned to mate.”

“No…” you whispered, denial more than rejection— and as you looked down between your body and his where he hovered over you, you choked on your breath at the sight of his cock, erect and reddened and.... for lack of a better word, enormous.

You weren’t excessively familiar with human cocks (not all the rumors about the new girl who moved here from the city were true), but this one seemed different than what you’d seen, most notably in the size but additionally in how you could see it pulsing and throbbing.  His teeth were bared as his claw-laden hands grabbed your legs, lifting and spreading them.  Your stupid dress just fell away and exposed you easily, like it didn’t even care that he was a monster.

Your panties were already damp, like you didn’t even care that he was a monster.

A deep breath in through his snout-like nose made it clear he was picking up your scent.  He grinned and you shuddered.

You’d seen how deep those claw marks could go, so you were surprised when he was delicate enough to tear your clothes off without ripping your skin.  The fear that he could or would, though, kept your heart pumping plenty fast— or maybe that was because of his dark blue eyes scanning your nude form hungrily.

He adjusted your hips as he held you with his… paws, one might call them, pulling you closer and bumping his thick, swollen head against your entrance.

"No, you can't—" you stammered, not sure if you meant morally or physically.  There was no way that would fit in you, right?  There was no way Lee would force himself on you… right?

The noise you made when he pushed into your channel was, ironically, animalistic.  His intrusion stretched you wide and filled you deep, and he wasted no time in setting a brutal pace that slammed his rough, strong thighs against the back of your soft ones.

Fear paralyzed you, made you unwilling and unable to fight back.  He was all claws and teeth— where could you reach to try to push him away, without the extremely high risk of him just biting your weak little hand off?  No, it was better that you just laid there, whimpering and sobbing and trying with all your might not to moan at the feeling of being fucked, hard, in the woods, by a beast.

His tongue on your neck was an odd sensation, another way he forced you to acknowledge that this wasn’t normal— because no human tongue was this long, this thick and hot, nor surrounded by sharp teeth that grazed your jaw and cheek.

“Gonna breed you,” he informed you coldly.  It made you squirm beneath him with renewed vigor, desperate not to be filled with the seed of— well, of anyone, but especially not this thing.  Could it get you pregnant, were you even biologically compatible?  You didn’t want to find out.  

“Please, no,” you whimpered.

“If you hate it so much then why is your cunt sucking me in so tight?” he whispered gruffly against your ear before licking it, too, with that cursed tongue.

His question was probably rhetorical, but either way you couldn’t answer it— you had no idea why your body was submitting so easily, why your walls welcomed him so eagerly, why your legs wrapped around his hips to pull him closer.  Further, you had no idea why you were about to come.

Numbness and sensitivity warred across your body, everything feeling tighter and hotter and heavier until you finally snapped and your body shook and convulsed.  His arms reached beneath where your back was arching, and you clutched at his shoulders as your fingers weaved into the fur you found there.

Of course he didn’t stop when you reached your peak, he wouldn’t stop for anything now, so you were forced to take him just as deep and hard as always even as your body went limp and became overwhelmingly sensitive.  It was clear, then, that your pleasure was only collateral damage to him; he was using your body for whatever he wanted, to sate his biological drive to impregnate something.  Like everything else about this, it was disgusting yet annoyingly arousing.

It's hard to say how long you laid there, limply jolting with each of his thrusts, dripping your arousal onto the cold earth beneath you, moaning weakly as you alternated between pleading for mercy and pleading for more.  You watched the clouds blow through the night sky, afraid to look up at his monstrous face, at his pointed ears and shining teeth.  Occasionally you glanced down and noted the way your stomach bulged from the size of him; you couldn't look at that anymore because it would either make you sick or make you come again.

You gurgled and choked as you felt his cock swelling inside you— bigger, wider, until your body was stretched beyond its limits.

"Take my knot," he instructed darkly, "my little bitch."

Disturbingly, you realized he probably wasn't calling you that to insult you: it was literal.  You were his breeding bitch, a womb to carry his litter, and you whined at the way it made your gut sink in shame.

His noises were more animal-like than ever while he came inside you, thick come all but pouring into you as he panted and growled.  Funny thing was, it just didn't stop: he kept coming for so long, giving you so much while the knot kept every drop inside.

You'd never felt so full in your life, of anything, let alone hot come that made you feel warm and sticky and dripping wet.

The knot kept you plugged and showed no signs of going down as he caged your body in, nuzzling into your neck.  He could bite you now and end it all, but you weren't afraid of that since he seemed to have found a better purpose for you.  His heavy breathing made his back rise and curve above you, his clawed hands pinning your wrists beside your head while he started to lick and nibble at your ear, neck, and collarbone.

You didn't even notice that you'd fallen asleep until you awoke in the wee hours of the morning— that time just before sunrise where there's light but no real color in the sky yet— with Lee asleep on top of you.  Regular Lee, that is, naked with no fur whatsoever and a normal cock that had softened inside you.

Okay, maybe "normal" was a strong word considering it was still pretty big and deliciously thick despite not even being hard anymore, but at the very least totally human.

"Lee," you whispered harshly, shaking him to try to wake him up.  "Sheriff."

He stirred, and his cock moved inside you; the subtle stimulation on your sore insides made you moan lowly and involuntarily squeeze your walls around him.  That got his attention, and you heard his breathing change beside your ear before he groaned a little.

"Mornin'," he greeted, his grin audible in his tone as he sat up slightly and looked down at you.  You reached up and brushed your hand over his chest, happy to find a much thinner layer of hair there than last night.  "Of all the times I woke up in this forest with no fuckin' idea what happened the night before… this has got to be my favorite."

"What's the last thing you remember?" you asked.

"I told you to run… I must've caught you, huh…"

You nodded and bit your lip.  

"You know I can't stop, when I'm like that… I didn't mean to—"

"It's okay," you sighed, "you didn't— it wasn't you."

"But it's my seed in you," he remembered, his words sending a little tingle up your spine.  

He must have felt it, must have seen your eyes widen or heard you gasp a little, because he grinned proudly as he looked down at you.

"Oh, you really love it, huh?  Love bein' mine…"

His hands held your arms tight as he pinned them down, making you whimper a little while he leaned in to suck on your neck.

"Love bein' bred like a bitch, ain't that right?"

You heard the deep, desperate moan before you even realized it had come from your mouth, his chuckle beside your ear making your heart twist.

"Yeah, I can tell… who knew you were so dirty, little lady?  Sweet girl like you shouldn't be gettin' off on being ravaged in the woods by a monster."

"Y-you're not a monster," you protested weakly.

"I eat people," he reminded you, letting go of your hands which you instantly weaved into his hair.

"Well, that's… everybody's got flaws, that's all."

"Yeah?  And what's yours?" he teased.

"I've got a crush on my boss," you answered with a grin, "and I came harder than I ever have in my life being fucked by… what are you?"

"The clinical term is lycanthrope."

"Right," you nodded, "that."

"And what would a pretty girl like you have a crush on me for, hm?"

"I dunno," you smiled coyly, running a finger down his chest, "guess I just thought you were cute…"

"Cute?!" he scoffed incredulously.

"Yeah… and sweet… you know, you go around actin' all tough and stuff, but I think you're really just harmless."

He cut you off with a growl as he lightly bit at your neck, holding your arms down again and tightening his grip on your wrists until you yelped and giggled happily.  "Oh, honey, you have no idea yet just how monstrous I can really be…"

[five-rivers]

Danger First

Chapter 3

@pocketramblr (also please let me know if you would like me to stop tagging you on these, I don't want to be annoying. :))

"WAIT!" shouted Nana abruptly, as Izuku was talking to his (weirdo) teacher. "I know who that is! Quick, get ready to turn everything off!"

"Turn what off?" asked En. "We live in a formless mental void. We don't even have electricity."

"The quirk! That's Eraserhead!"

"Oh, yeah," said Yoichi, while everyone else (sans Second and Third) scrambled to grab onto the quirk. "I remember Eight meeting him, now! So, he's a teacher, huh?"

"How do all of you forget the one person who might be capable of one-shotting All for One?" demanded Nana.

"Doesn't his quirk not work on mutations?"

"Stop daydreaming and get over here, Yoichi!"

The quirkspace began to glow faintly, ominously red, and the ghosts pulled hard on the quirk, holding it temporarily out of Izuku's reach.

Then, the red glow abated and they dropped it back into place.

"Well, that was exhausting," said Banjo. "So, we'll have to be constantly ready for that, huh?"

"As long as he's around, yeah," said Nana.

"Why did we just do that, anyway?" asked En.

"So we can continue to masquerade as a normal, non-haunted quirk?"

"We could have just let him think he didn't have a quirk, or that the anxiety-"

"Super anxiety."

"-isn't part of it."

Yoichi gasped, as if scandalized. "You'd want us to lie to Izuku?"

"Okay, seriously, what is up with you and Nine?" asked En.

Despite not having a body, Yoichi began to visibly sweat. "Nothing, nothing at all. I just... think he's neat?"

"If you're going to lie to us, can you not do it with archaeomemes?" asked Nana.

"No, no, actually, I can get behind this," said En. "Would you say Izuku has... vibes?"

Yoichi nodded solemnly.

.

"Young Midoriya!"

Izuku shrieked and jumped back from the sudden sound as All Might suddenly emerged from an otherwise innocuous bush.

Both of them froze, staring at each other.

"Are you..." said All Might, hesitantly, sounding much more like he did in his small form than usual, "alright?"

"I... think so?"

"That's good, then." All Might coughed slightly into his fist. "I was wondering if you had a few minutes."

"Of- of course!" said Izuku, immediately.

"Then allow me to lead the way!"

All Might led him through a door labeled 'staff only' and immediately deflated. "All the staff know about my condition," explained Mr. Yagi.

Izuku nodded. Then a thought occurred to him. "Mr. Yagi?"

"Yes, my boy?"

"Why, um, why don't you teach, um, as Mr. Yagi? Instead of as All Might? Wouldn't it save your time?"

Mr. Yagi stopped and scratched his head. "I hadn't really thought about it before," he admitted. "But part of the reason I took this job, other than wanting to help train the next generation of heroes, of course, is that I want to get people used to the idea that I am going to retire." He tugged on one of his bangs. "Also, ah, I'm not sure if my qualifications to teach are quite up to par without my reputation."

"I'm sure it would be fine! You're the best, after all!"

Mr. Yagi chuckled. "I'm glad you think so," he said. Then he reached behind him and opened a door. "In any case: my office."

"Wow," said Izuku, quietly, stepping in. "All Might's office..." Who knew when he'd get another opportunity like this again? He kept his eyes wide to drink in the details.

The rather sparse details. The office was rather bare. Which made sense, seeing as All Might was a brand-new teacher. It was sort of... disappointing, as thrilling as it was.

Mr. Yagi sat down behind the desk and gestured for Izuku to take one of the other chairs. It had a lot of cushioning. A lot a lot. Izuku sank down into the fluff as Mr. Yagi fiddled with a drawer on his desk. He got the drawer open, and pulled out a notebook. A notebook of the same brand Izuku liked to use, actually.

"Since your experiences with One for All are so different from mine, I thought it might be a good idea to do some research into past holders and take a leaf out of your notebook, as it were." He passed the notebook over to Izuku, who took it with shaking hands and a slightly open mouth.

"I'll treasure it," he declared, voice wobbling.

"Not so much that you don't use it, I hope," said Mr. Yagi. "As it is, it's only an overview. The earlier holders, especially, don't have many records associated with them. Consider it a starting point. I haven't had much time to work on it."

"I can't believe you found the time to write this at all," said Izuku, flipping through the pages. The information was sparse, but each holder had a basic profile, all the way back to the fourth. "I mean, between being a hero, training me, and preparing to be a teacher, I'm stunned nothing fell by the wayside!"

Mr. Yagi proceeded to turn a very interesting color.

"Uh, nothing fell by the wayside, right?"

"Why don't you take a few minutes to skim through. If anything jumps out at you right away, we can talk about it. And then I'll let you go get changed and go home, and we can discuss more later, after you've had more time with it."

"Okay!" said Izuku. He'd start with just the basic profiles. Name, date of birth, date of death, quirk... wait, those ages... "They all died young," he said, softly.

"Hero work is dangerous," said Mr. Yagi, hand going to his side.

"There's something else, isn't there?"

"Not something you need to worry about. I took care of it, years ago." The hand holding his side spasmed slightly.

"... Six years ago?" asked Izuku, aware he was pushing his luck. But this sounded both important and relevant.

There was a long pause. "Yes," said All Might, finally. "A villain with a longevity quirk. He... had a history with the first user."

Izuku got the feeling that was an understatement. It also seemed unlikely that the only application of the villain's quirk was longevity, given what he'd done to All Might. But the subject was clearly making All Might uncomfortable, so he dropped it in favor of burying his nose in the notebook again.

(Social fumbles aside, this was the most secure Izuku had felt for... a while.)

"The sixth user had a smoke quirk?"

"Yes, it seems so. Although it doesn't seem to have been actual smoke, but a biological compound."

"I wonder if that has anything to do with all the steam you release when you deflate. Actually..." he flipped back through the quirk. "I wonder if you're using Float, too, subconsciously, when you jump."

"What?"

"I- I mean," said Izuku, "I noticed, when, um, when I grabbed your ankle and also in videos of you- Your hang time is kind of messed up? You're in the air for longer than you should be, but it isn't, like, consistent? Plus, you can change direction mid-air, which I thought was because you were shooting out blasts of air pressure with your quirk, but with me on your ankle, you definitely didn't do that. There was- there was a forum I was on where some people thought your quirk tapped into magnetic fields, somehow, but that doesn't make any sense, because you'd expect a lot more electronic interference and that similar locations would produce similar results, given the Earth's magnetic field, but they don't. But subconscious, low-level use of a telekinesis-based flying quirk would explain everything. If we take into account what you said about my anxiety after the entrance exam, then that's minor expressions of three out of four of the quirks listed here, not counting the base stockpile and enhancement quirk. Do you think the unknown quirks of the second and third users might have partially manifested for you as well? Have you experienced anything else that's atypical for a strength enhancement quirk?"

Mr. Yagi stared at Izuku.

Oh, no, he'd gone too far.

"Nothing immediately comes to mind, my boy," he said, faintly. "But... magnets? Really?"

"I told you it didn't make any sense."

Mr. Yagi rubbed his chin. "There might be something, but... it's too unclear to say either way. I'll keep an eye out. It's just... a lot to take in. I thought One for All was done surprising me."

"When has it surprised you before?"

"Oh, under the influence of certain mental quirks, you can wind up hallucinating the previous users."

"Hallucinating?"

"Yes. But being under the influence of a mental quirk is always the larger issue, so..."

"Mr. Yagi," said Izuku. "That's really the kind of thing you should let people know about up front."

"I- is it?"

.

The ghosts all stared at Nana.

"Hey, don't blame this on me! None of us explained that kind of stuff before passing One for All on."

"In our defense," said En, half raising a hand, "we were usually dying when we passed it on."

"More importantly," said Hikage, "do you think Ninth is right about the quirks?"

"It would make sense," mused Yoichi. "Although then we'd have to wonder why Blackwhip didn't manifest similarly."

"Is it too much for me to get someone to use my quirk? My extremely awesome quirk, that has no downsides?"

"It is powered almost exclusively by rage."

"No downsides."

"You-"

"No. Downsides."

.

Aizawa passed him an envelope labeled 'quirk counseling' along with the standard schedule and orientation packet he was handing to everyone else. It didn't look like any of his class mates had noticed, though, for which Izuku was grateful. He didn't want to be known as a weirdo who didn't know what his own quirk was.

He heavily suspected he was tapping into Danger Sense, somehow, but he didn't know how, and the fourth user of One for All had lived so long ago there weren't any records of him. Not easily and publicly available. Everything Mr. Yagi had written in his notebook (that Izuku had probably stayed up way too late reading... and texting Mr. Yagi about it... and comparing it to his notes... and texting Mr. Yagi about that... and reviewing old All Might compilations and theory threads... and having Mr. Yagi threaten to call his mom if he didn't go to sleep...) about the fourth user had been retrieved from the journals Mr. Yagi's mentor had passed down, according to one of the source notes in the margin.

(Mr. Yagi had really neat, small handwriting, which Izuku wouldn't have ever expected from his large, dramatic signatures as All Might, and his notes were meticulous and carefully cited. If Izuku didn't know better, he would have thought it belonged to a secretary.)

But despite Izuku's suspicions, he didn't actually know. He didn't know it's range, what it defined as danger, whether or not it 'ranked' dangers, how to distinguish it from normal anxiety, or- Well. Anything, really. And he would really like to.

He opened the envelope quietly. Inside was a handwritten note instructing him to pick one of three schedules for quirk counseling and return it to Aizawa by the end of the day. The other pages were printed, with times and possible locations. Options for both before and after the school day.

Izuku felt his eyes tearing up. This was easily the nicest thing a teacher had ever done for him... Although he was nervous about being alone with Aizawa. Some of his other teachers, when they asked him to stay after class it was... not good.

Nothing bad happened, not like in movies or TV shows or the awareness videos the school had shown sometimes. The teachers didn't hurt him, really, didn't do anything to him, other than talk or yell, mostly, but it still wasn't good.

Maybe he could ask Mr. Yagi or Recovery Girl to sit in... But he already felt bad, taking up so much of their time.

He picked one of the after school schedules. He was already staying late on the other days to work with Mr. Yagi, and if something did go wrong, he wanted to have the night to recover before he had to face Aizawa again in class.

He put it to the side, so he'd remember to give it to Aizawa before he left, then looked over the class schedule. Homeroom, Math, Hero Art History, History, and English in the morning. At least this morning. The history classes alternated with something called Heroics-Applied Science and Hero Law and Ethics. Afternoons, meanwhile, were entirely occupied by Hero Basic Training.

And every class would be taught by a pro hero. He wondered if it would be rude to ask for their autographs...

.

Shouta grunted as Hizashi flopped down onto the couch next to him on the couch in the staff breakroom. "What a morning! I just love seeing all those bright little faces at the beginning of the year. Anyone have a favorite first year yet?"

Shouta kicked Hizashi through his sleeping bag. Sadly, this had no effect on the man.

"I think mine might be the little green guy. He's the only one who was actually paying attention, and you know how rare that is, when everyone is anticipating their first heroics lesson. The rest of us just pale in comparison."

Shouta attempted to kick Hizashi again, this time for an entirely different reason. Midoriya was already All Might's favorite (probably)- he did not need more pull with the staff.

"I know who my least favorite is," said Kan. "Kid's certainly dedicated and competitive, but I wouldn't be surprised if he threatened his middle school teachers into giving him those glowing reviews. His personality needs a lot of work. How did you get Nezu to saddle me with Bakugo, anyway, Eraser?"

"I had nothing to do with it."

"Don't give me that, I was going to have Monoma. At least he's a team player."

"You're being illogical," said Shouta, zipping his sleeping bag closed over his face.

"How about you, Nemuri?" asked Hizashi, cutting off Vlad King vs Eraserhead round five hundred.

"It's hard to choose! They're all so cute and eager! Full of the passion of youth! I think they're all my favorite."

"You always say that..."

The door opened and closed.

"All Might! What about you? Any favorites yet?"

Yagi coughed. "I've only had the one class of third years so far. Don't you think that's rather... premature?"

What an incredible nonanswer.

"How did that first class of yours go, anyway? They didn't sour you to the whole idea of teaching, did they?"

"Not at all! The students were wonderful. The third years are very advanced, aren't they? For some of them, I wouldn't be shocked to see that skill level on an active sidekick."

"What can I say? We start them off right," crowed Hizashi.

"They did seem a little surprised by the scenario, however."

"So was I, t'be honest," said Snipe, who was in charge of the third years.

"Ah, was it no good...?"

"It was fine. Lesson plan was a bit rough around the edges, but you and Nezu'll be goin' over that later. But... quirk traffickin' doesn't quite seem like your thing."

"Ah, well, set-pieces," he said, using the slightly derisive underground slang for large-scale spotlight hero battles, "may be what I'm known for, but before my injury, the majority of my battles and investigations weren't publicized."

"Shield laws?" asked Nemuri.

"Generally, yes, but some of the investigations were tied to others, so we were using the organized crime secrecy laws to keep those under wraps. Simply put, my popularity isn't the only reason I keep the number one spot despite Endeavor having more completed cases than me on paper."

Shouta had known there was more to All Might than 'punchy, over-the-top, eyestrain-causing, bombastic muscle guy,' but part of his stupid, illogical brain was annoyed at Yagi for pummeling that image into imaginary dust, anyway. It seemed like the man's only two flaws were horrible interpersonal skills when not using his public persona, and his vast suite of health issues, the latter of which all heroes who operated long enough picked up.

Oh, and a possible inclination towards bribery.

Made it hard to dislike him, which Shouta wanted to do, because he was loud, flashy, and gave him headaches, literal and metaphorical. He ignored the fact that Hizashi was the same way, and had forcibly become Shouta's best friend. Clearly, there was no connection here.

"By the way, why is young Aizawa completely zipped in like that?"

"Nap time," said Hizashi, solemnly.

.

"Sir?" said Iida, raising his hand.

"Yes, young man?" boomed All Might.

"There are nineteen of us. How are we handling the odd person out?"

"Excellent question! In other exercises, we may handle it differently, but for today, one of you will be working alone! Occasionally, a hero may find themselves isolated when they originally expected help. However, for better balance, I have also arranged it so the odd hero out will be taking part in the last battle, so you'll have more time to strategize!"

But the other team would also have more time to strategize, Izuku noted. He really hoped it wouldn't be him... not that he wanted to force it on any if his classmates! He just didn't want yet another handicap on the first day of training.

All Might walked around with the box of ballots, pausing for each student to take one. He reached Izuku and held the box out to him with a wink. Izuku smiled back, reached in, and grabbed one.

A chill ran up his back and he froze, fingers wrapped tightly around the little ball. Something told him this was definitely the cursed, single-person ballot. Could he let it go? Would it be considered cheating if he picked a new one?

But All Might was already walking away. Every part of his body tense, Izuku turned his hand over and forced his fingers apart.

J.

The tenth character of the Latin alphabet. For the tenth, last, team.

He watched as everyone else started to pair up, and All Might looked at him apologetically.

Izuku approximated a smile. Plus ultra, right?

[devilrainbunnie]

SHIGARAKI, GIRAN, and DABI SMUT HEADCANNONS (NOT ENTIRELY CANNON)

cw: smut, 18+ only, minors dni or i will block, kinks, and cussing

fem!reader x character

a/n: i really just want to write more already, my requests are dry as fuck and i want to post something so, here is your guys’ food for the night. gn sorry for the mommy kink, my major dom side slipped out. oops?

UPDATE: made some edits to this, as well as added links to some headcannons for Giran, and Shigaraki. Please check them out!

TOMURA SHIGARAKI (tenko shimura):

Tomura is very inexperienced, he doesn’t know much about sex or the female anatomy. Of course he knows the basics about it all, but how much can you really learn from word of mouth, and porn. He watches porn a lot sometimes, but more often than not, he doesn’t do anything. He enjoys watching, and learning. When he meets you, its all he does. He doesn’t understand why, but it makes the dull ache in his lower region lessen. He feels ashamed to touch himself because of sensei. 

He is infatuated with you. You’re the only person he’s been attracted to that doesn’t eventually annoy him somehow. You’re nice, and you try to take care of him. You’re so soft, he begins to trust you and eventually it leads to some form of dating. He is obsessed with you at this point, you are the most kind and selfless person he’s ever met. You’re a perfect mommy.

It’s going to take you guys a bit to get to that point of intimacy. Tomura has trust issues, and he’s incredibly insecure. He’s worried to hurt you, he’s worried that you’ll be disgusted by him, he’s just worried. It’s going to take a lot of reassurance, body worshipping, and other acts before he’s down to get under the sheets with you. 

He really likes the way you touch him, he’s always been scared of touching himself because of his quirk, and sensei. He doesn’t touch himself often, (usually just fucking his pillow because it’s soft) but the feeling on your soft, dainty hand on his member almost sends him into overdrive. He’s so sensitive, and you love it.

Poor touch starved Tomu.

He also loves your mouth, the way you kiss him, leave love bites all over his neck and chest, biting his lips, and the way you wrap your lips around the tip of his cock. God, the best sight and feeling he’s ever experienced. 

When he finally fucks you, he never wants to stop. You warm, wet spongy walls pulling him in deeper and milking him for all he’s worth-- he almost wants to cry it feels so good. He wonders why he never sought you out earlier for this. His pace is inconsistent, and he whimpers loudly above you. He might come super early, but you just give him time to recover and go again. He tells you to call him a good boy. Please call him a good boy, he will become putty.

Now, since he got a taste of you, he’s going to try to fuck you any chance he gets. Whenever you’re not in the mood, he settles for humping against your thigh. 

He’s so sensitive and touch starved, the slightest friction can set him off. don’t grind against him too much, you might soil his pants.

He loves all of your body parts but dear god, does that boy love your boobs. It doesn’t matter the size, if you have them, he’s suckling on them constantly. Tomura will do that when he needs to relax, or again, if you’re not in the mood to do much. He loves cuddling into your chest while you play with his hair. He just loves your tits. Sometimes he becomes bratty and slips his hand under your shirt in public, or will even purposefully stare down your shirt if the shirt your wearing shows even the smallest bit of cleavage. All he wants to do is touch and suck on them.

Tomura loves when you sit on his face, you taste so good to him, and he loves having your smaller body on top of his head. He thrives off of the thought of drowning in your pussy and hot ass. You bet your ass (ahahejbfwj sorry) he’s going to grope your bottom the entire time. He also stares at it if you stand in front of him, or are laying on your stomach, all he can think about is eating you out, or bending you over his desk to fuck you. He is too horny for his own good.

Tomura really loves when you let him face fuck you. There’s something just so hot about you with tears running down your cheeks, and drool leaking down to your chest is a sight he’s obsessed with. He wishes he could do it more.

Kink 1: I will die on this hill-- TOMURA HAS A MOMMY KINK! He fucking does, you cannot tell me different because it’s true. He might be more dominant with you if you’re more of a sub, but he wants you to baby him. Call him a good boy, and tell him how cute he is, call him baby boy when he feels sad or upset. He relies on you for so much. You’re his sweet little mommy who lets her baby boy cum inside of her tight little cunny. 

Kink 2: I also think he might have a size kink-- he might be your baby boy, but he wants to toss you around during sex. He likes putting four fingers around your pretty little throat, watching his large fingers dip in and out of you. Tomura gets off on your size difference, no matter what size you are. He will make sure he is the bigger of the pair. He wants to feel big and strong, he lives off of the power dynamic. The man is a paradox within himself.

Kink 3: Body worship and praise kink (obviously), he likes both receiving and giving. When you call him your good boy, or tell him he has the perfect body, he will cum at the words alone. He’s into degradation too but that’s too complex for him.

Kink 4: (I don’t know the word for this) but he is a dirty fuck. He likes your used underwear to jerk off into, he’ll even suckle on the used spot in the crotch. Don’t let him stay in your room too long alone, your scent alone is enough to get him off. You might just walk into him humping your pillow with a gym shirt over his face. He also has a piss kink but that is for another time.

Kink 5: Somnophilia, he makes sure you’re okay with it beforehand but sometimes you’ll wake up with Tomura lapping at your sensitive jewel between your legs and grabbing your thighs. Or his hips crashing into yours. He loves the way you look when you’re lost in sleep, your face is so soft and you have some sort of otherworldly glow. You’re also so much more sensitive to his touches, and he loves the way you whimper and moan in your sleep. He loves it.

BONUS KINK (coz I’ve been giving this sweetboy so much love on here, here’s another thing): he loves when you cosplay in the bedroom. Roleplay while you’re at it too. He loves that you’re so willing to do things for him just for his pleasure, while looking like a character he watches hentai about. You’re such a carring mommy.

Tomura just overall loves you, and everything you do together. Sex is a way for him to feel close to you, and he is going to try to learn everything about how to pleasure you. He likes feeling good, and he feels good making you feel good.  

He has probably every kink imaginable but, those top five are ones that are most noticeable. 

GIRAN (kagero okuta):

Giran is very experienced, he’s had his fair share of lovers in his past and he knows just how to pleasure a woman. Because of his busy schedule, he doesn’t have time for meaningful relationships, and most of that love making comes from one night stands. He’s dated when he was younger but, it wasn’t anything he still daydreams about. He doesn’t often feel comfortable touching himself unless he really needs to, sometimes you need to release that built up tension. But overall, sex and relationships are nothing but just things to him. He didn’t care.

That is, until you came along.

He can be patient with you, he let’s you set the boundaries. What can I say, the man is an absolute gentleman! Of course the second you’re flirting with him he wants to pull you away to fuck in a bathroom stall but he knows he wants more than that. He wants to treat you right, and make you smile.

When things do get intimate, he immediately gets very dominate (in a soft way of course). He lets you know that its all about you, and to not worry about him too much. He starts off by smothering you with kisses, slipping his hands underneath your long dress to feel the smooth skin of your thighs. Teasingly rubbing his fingers along your clothed slit. He loves to see you squirm, hips rutting against him when he gets you worked up. He lives for your desperation. 

When he gets to fuck you, he makes sure he can see your face the entire time. He does everything he can to please you. He enjoyed watching your face contort in pleasure, memorizing what positions made your eyes roll back or caused you to whimper. He makes sure you cum at least twice before he releases, and he swears he’s never had sex quite as enjoyable.

Giran begins to become even more loving to you. He’ll start kissing you more frequently, giving you expensive gifts, and whenever you grow further in your relationship, he gives you lingerie to wear for him when you guys get down and dirty.

He really loves your ass and thighs, he loves coming up behind you, and placing his hand on your ass while you’re doing something like the dishes or cooking. Whenever you’re laying down, he might jump between your legs, and put his face on your lower stomach while holding your thighs. He enjoys fucking you from behind so he can grope, and smack at your ass and thighs as much as he wants. But he’s not too rough, unless you like it like that. 

He likes your breasts as well. He makes it a point to give you bras more often than not so he can see how pretty your tits look on display for him. As well as, he just likes to fondle them. He likes to smother your bare chest in wet kisses, rolling a nipple between his lips and tongue from time to time. He just likes the squishy soft flesh between his fingers. You just look so pretty when you’re completely bare for him.

Giran prefers using his hands to pleasure you, he really enjoys watching up close how your face reacts to his handiwork, and it makes me feel incredibly proud. Kissing you while you moan in his mouth. Sometimes if you shy away from him he’ll bunch up your hair so he can see you.

Kink 1: Service kink-- that obviously goes without saying, he fucking loves pleasuring you. He lives for it. He drinks up your moaning, whimpering, scratching etc., when you lose yourself in the pleasure he swears he never has seen anything so beautiful

Kink 2: Giran loves to overstimulate you, when you’re already cumming, he’s sucking harder on your clit until you’re sobbing and yanking his scalp. Watching you barely able to form a sentence because of how intense the pleasure is, makes him insane. He might also use toys on you during sex to make this more intense, despite the fact that he prefers his hands. Sometimes he likes watching you nearly screaming as he hold a vibrator to your clit. The vibrations can also feel good to him.

Kink 3: Edging. From time to time, if you’re being a brat, he’ll edge you for as long as you can take before you’re crying and begging him to let you cum. Sometimes he just needs to release his anger, and that can be through just toying with you.

Kink 4: While he isn’t into exhibitionism, sometimes he’ll answer calls in the middle of doing things with you and see how long you can stay quiet while he talks business on the phone. He’ll pull his phone away from his mouth to smash his lips against yours. 

Kink 5: This goes without saying-- this man has a daddy kink. I just know that he would love a sweet little sugar baby like you to spoil, and smother with love. He is a daddy in every sense of the word, he wants to take care of you, pleasure you, punish you when needed, and being called daddy makes his ears turn red. He never thought he’d like it, that is until he met you (could be the age gap too, who knows).

Giran wants to pleasure you. He gets his pleasure from giving, though he doesn’t mind you blowing him under his desk at his office during a meeting. You’re his sugar baby, he lives for you. He’ll spoil you rotten, and fuck you so well that your legs will be so numb with pleasure all you can do is melt into his arms. And yes, he lives for the moments when you let yourself be vulnerable to him, and hold him close.

DABI (touya todoroki):

Dabi is similar to Giran in the sense that he’s never had an meaningful relationships that involved sex, or romance. He’s had his air share of affairs with women since he was a teen, but most women he came across are ones he never felt connected to. Dabi jerks off when he has to, he finds himself disgusted by his body and feels horrible when he makes himself feel good. But sometimes there are no other options. He usually settles for a fleshlight instead, he’d rather fuck a toy than his own disgusting scarred hand. (he’s not disgusting, I think it’s fair to say cannonly that Dabi is very self-conscious of his looks, poor baby. He is the cutest.)

At first, Dabi only wanted to fuck you. He saw you, thought you were attractive and that was it. He probably openly flirted with you constantly so he could get you to maybe even give him some material for later on. 

But for some reason, your pretty face and soft voice corrupts his brain. He eventually courts you, and pretty quickly, things get heated. You’re letting him man handle you on the roof of an abandoned building thirty minutes away from any cities. He’s groping you so tight you swear he could feel the way your blood was moving inside your veins. Dabi quickly begins to grind into you, biting your neck while moving his hands to cup the globes of your ass. God was he good at using his hips. He grabbed you suddenly by the back of your head by holding your hair at your scalp, his other hand forcing your jaw slightly open. “Get on your knees.” he smirked. “You’re already drooling, so hungry for my cock already, slut?”

Your first time together Dabi was pinning your hands above your head as he rammed his large, pierced cock into you. So fast, and so deep, it barely allowed your mind for any thoughts. You were crying into the night air as he demolished your insides, he was biting you, sucking, and smacking various body parts. Any time you tried to tell him something, he’d reply with, “shut up slut”. Not a gentleman like Giran, he wanted to dominate you and make you his little whore, fuck you brainless. 

After you and Dabi have sex, his flirty nature grows by a million. He’s coming up behind you, rutting his clothed erection against your ass, grabbing your hair to face him and saying, “hey baby, I missed you”. Or in public he’s making you sit on his lap while he kisses your neck and earlobe. You are the best person he’s ever fucked, and you care for him, you’re also bareable to be around. Do you know how rare it is for Dabi to not be annoyed by someone? You’re his lil’ angel. He’s going to be clingy anytime he has free time, his little tsundere act completely diminishing when you two are alone. He’s all over you, and you take it, like the good little slut you are. Dabi’s little slut.

I think it goes without saying that he loves your ass. It was the first thing he noticed about you, he loves having you sit on his lap. He like holding it while you are doing something while standing, whether that be brushing your teeth or reading the label of a box of pasta at the grocery store. He loves him some ass. He likes to hit it from the back so he can smack the life out of you, while also watching your ass jiggle and smack against his dick. Then after to soothe your sore, beaten ass, he rubs it while you guys cuddle and sleep.

Don’t get me wrong though, the man loves him some tits too. He likes how they also jiggle during sex, and look when you wear clothes. He might insist that you get nipple piercings because “that’s the hottest shit ever” -Dabi.

Dabi secretly really gets off to you pleasuring yourself, and he’s not sure why. Something is just so hot about sitting across the room and watching you drag yourself into an orgasm. When you stare into his eyes while cumming, he loses it. 

Kink 1: Sadism-- is anyone really surprised that Dabi is a sadist? He loves watching you whimper when he goes too rough with you, or the look in your eyes as he holds your face to his and instructs you what to do with your mouth. He loves leaving bruises on you when he spanks, and bites you. He’s so territorial, he just needs to leave his mark on you. His cock twitches when he sees you the next day with his love bites all over your neck. He also has a major size kink, but it kind of goes hand in hand with his sadism. He gets off on overpowering you, throwing you around, and marking you. He might also later on enjoy using whips, paddles, tassels or even a belt.

Kink 2: He really loves to degrade you call you his little cumslut, or forces you to tell him that the only reason you live is for his cock. He thinks you’re the sexiest, prettiest, most perfect girl in the world but-- he enjoys calling you a good for nothing, dirty whore. Afterwards he’ll of course shower you with love if he’s feeling soft enough for you.

Kink 3: I strongly believe Dabi is into bondage. He loves to pin your arms above your head, and at some point you both mutually agree to let him chain you to the bed post and have his way with you. Which eventually turns into him bending you in half with rope, or strapping you to the ceiling. There’s nothing more hot than seeing you hog tied on his bed with a ball gag in your pretty lips, drooling and trying to tell him to fuck you already. He loves having the control, he just wants to lose himself in you when you’re tied up, like a pretty little present. Just for him.

Kink 4: Dabi recently in his activities with you, realized he enjoyed knife play. He enjoys running a blade across your spine while he slowly humps into you. Telling you that you’re such a docile and pathetic girl for letting him so close to you, one slip up and he could hurt you. He could slice into you, but you just let him. But it just seems to turn you on more.

Kink 5: Dabi has a thing for what you’re wearing too. Along with the ropes, and gags, he likes to put you in collars, and thigh highs. Both him and Tomura probably have the biggest kink for that, they love dressing up their s/o. While he fucks you, he loves seeing your soft squishy flesh pop out above the cotton material of the socks. He loves how submissive and adorable you look in your collar. You’re a good girl, just for him— hey don’t accuse him of pet play, even if it’s true.

You let him explore a side to himself he didn’t think he had, he’s happy to have someone so willing to let him explore his sexuality while also loving and caring for his wellbeing. He loves being around you. You’re his perfect little pet.

Such a good girl, just for him.

also i wrote dating heavannons for giran (that has majorly flopped idk why) and for shigaraki.

[calumxkisses]

Sleep On The Floor | c.h.

pairing: calum hood x reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none

summary: life’s getting dark grey, lucky for you, Calum is ready to show you all the colors - or maybe that’s what you dream about.  

a/n: hi beautiful angels, i’m back! sorry for being away fr such a long time but i was studying and trying my best to stay alive. today’s also my birthday and i wanted to thank all of you for loving my past serie. i love every single on of you.

this imagine its inspired by the song: sleep on the floor 

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

The music is loud, the same songs are repeated continuously but the constant talk and the drinks make it difficult to notice the monotony of these parties. It is a monotony that you relive every weekend since you started working in the music industry and it doesn’t depend on the place, the week or the event, the same things repeat themselves over and over again.

Dark grey. It’s the color that you best associate to this situation. It’s that color that makes you think about factories, workers in line, controlled by rules and by a world that leaves no room for creativity, for change, for a better world. You remember that Charlie Chaplin’s movie that your professor made you watch in school and the way he ends up living an adventure. Will that happen to you too? It’s just a party, you think, but because it’s a party you shouldn’t feel this way. 

You’ll take a plane tomorrow and you’ll end up in another city that you won’t visit because there’ll be no time. After the concert or the interview, you’ll end up in some hidden place dancing and drinking and the day after another plane or bus will be waiting for you. And when the tour ends, you’ll be able to breathe. 

The girl in front of you keeps talking about the promotion she got at work, but you stopped listening to her a long time ago. Didn't she get the promotion last week? Or was it another girl? Maybe she was the one who had just returned from a business trip? 

Across the room, a few steps away from you, Calum, Luke and Roy are talking about the new album the band is working on, the new genre they are experimenting with and the lyrics they enjoy writing but will never release. They spend their days like this, searching for new sounds and writing lyrics about salads and strange places where they get lost.

You look around before your gaze gets placed in front of you and you notice that Calum is looking at you too, his curly hair with shades of blonde free from any beanie and he’s still wearing the leather jacket. His eyes stare at you and a little grin forms on his lips. Without realizing it, you slowly approach each other. 

“It doesn't look like you're having fun.” 

“My stomach hurts from how much I’m laughing.” You say in a sarcastic tone, your face expressing your emotion. 

“What’s going on? Are you okay?” Calum knows you. He knows your need to break free from the world and the way you love everything that is extraordinary. He needs that too, he wants to have the possibility to just be him and not the bassist from 5 Seconds Of Summer, but he’ll never tell you this, he won’t give you the satisfaction of being right. But you know. 

“No, I'm just tired of always doing the same things.” You say dramatically, sighing.

“Then let's do something different.”

“Like what? Playing hide and seek instead of beer pong?” 

“No, let’s leave. We have a couple of hours before this party ends and nobody will notice our absence anyway. Let’s do something different for once.” 

You smile. He’s trying to relieve your suffering and you appreciate that.  

Calum walks away for a moment and when he returns, your jacket is in his hand and no longer on the couch. He throws it at you and offers you his hand. “A Taxi is already waiting for us outside. What do you think?” His smile is wide on his face, but not as big as the one that forms on your face when you grab his hand and drag him out.

You both laugh as you get into the car, your adrenaline is running high and you already feel better. The driver smiles at the scene, Calum whispers something in his ear and then sits back on the seat, his eyes following your body before looking in your eyes. 

“I didn’t know you could speak French.” You say looking at his face. 

“There’s a lot of things that you don’t know about me, love.” He says before looking in front of him, mentally trying to remember the name of the streets. His side profile is lightened by different colors as you pass all the different neons of the shops of the city.

The window on your right is slightly lowered. You rest your head on his shoulder and close your eyes, the wind brushes your face and the noise of the city is like a melody in your ears. Calum kisses your hair and rests his head on yours. 

You’re in a car, just the two of you stuck in traffic, yet you feel like you are in a different world, in a world of constant change, where everything happens only once and you are ready to treasure every second of it. 

You don’t know how many minutes have passed by before Calum taps on your shoulder and whispers, “Look.” before pointing to his left. You open your eyes and the Arc de Triomphe lights up the city. It’s a masterpiece that reigns in the French city. It’s fully illuminated and stands powerful in the center of the rotunda.

“Wow.” It's the only thing you can say as you get closer to the window to get a better look. The driver chuckles at your reaction. You are too distracted by the beauty of the monument to notice the way Calum looks at you, lost in the way the lights illuminate your face and the way your hand is in his, as if they were made to hold only each other. 

All the cars are driving past the monument as if it was nothing, probably used to the view, but you can’t get enough of the magical feeling that you feel just by looking at it.

As the Arc de Triomphe is now behind you, you sit back in your seat, your mouth still slightly open from the astonishment of the sight. They might have been some of the most intense minutes you’ve ever experienced.

“Everytime we finish a show here, we always ask to pass by here. After the confusion of the concert, this view always manages to bring peace. Usually we are always exhausted but we try to stay awake as much as possible to not miss this view.” He whispers, looking out and smiling at the memories. 

“I know how much you daydream and how much you like these views and as soon as they gave us the tour dates, I immediately asked to let you come with us. I knew you would like it.” 

The idea that Calum has thought of you, especially in this occasion, warms your heart. He’s not a person who expresses what he feels, he finds it difficult to open up to the world and to the people around him and you know that that's his way of showing that he cares, by gestures, thoughts and small details.

“Thank you, Calum. We passed here yesterday and it was magical in the sun, I didn't expect to love it even more at night.”

The car crosses a bridge and the Seine is illuminated, leading you to fall even more in love with this city. It is definitely the most romantic city in the world, as everyone says.

“Close your eyes.” Calum whispers, taking your hand and putting them on your eyes.

“Wait, why? What are you doing?” You ask but he stays silent. Your heart beats fast. 

Before you know it, the car stops and Calum talks to the driver. You are tempted to open your eyes and peek but the idea that he has decided to surprise you makes you feel too much guilt to do it so you decide to keep your hands on your face.

Calum opens the door, “Give me your hand but keep your eyes closed, okay?” You nod before holding out your hand. He grabs it and, being careful not to hurt you, he gets you out of the car.

You walk  for a while, the noise of the stones is loud as you walk on them and the wind ruffles your hair.

“Keep your eyes still closed for a moment.” He whispers in your ear making you feel chills all over your body.

You feel him moving away and you try to use your senses to understand where you are. You hear people talking in the distance, the noise of some cars behind you as you play with your fingers to entertain yourself while you wait. You aren’t afraid, there’s no single cell in your body that feels fear, you trust him too much to think about the idea that he left you there. He would be ready to climb the highest mountain and cross the hottest deserts to come to you, there’s no emergency that’ll let him leave your side. 

Since the first moment his eyes saw you, he knew that he couldn’t let you go.

You feel someone stand in front of you before you hear him speak: “Okay, you can open your eyes now.”

Calum is standing in front of you, he’s looking straight in your eyes to see your reaction. He’s holding a red rose in his right hand and a huge smile is on his lips. Behind him, the Eiffel Tower is majestic, a source of light in the dark of the night. You’re left speechless, the magic you’re living is impossible to explain with words. It seems like billions of stars are joined by surrounding the structure, illuminating it and making it something eternal.  

There are a few people in the distance, taking photos of the structure and laughing at each other. 

There’s a musician on the side of the tower, she’s playing songs that you’re not familiar with and yet they seem to be perfect for this moment. They might be love songs, or even sad songs, but the melody envelops the atmosphere that surrounds you, making you look like the protagonists of a dream.

“Calum.” It’s the only thing you’re able to say. He’s standing there, between you and the Eiffel Tower, one of the most beautiful attraction in the entire world and yet his beauty almost steals the spotlight. But he’ll never know.

He grins and turns around to admire the structure. You reach to take your phone from the pocket of your jacket and take a picture of him, of the Tower, of everything that is surrounding you. Something to look at when you’ll need to think about a happy memory. 

“I’m in love. That’s it. I know what love looks like now.” You said admiring the view. 

“With me?” He looks at you smiling.

“You wish, don’t you?.” 

He laughs and there’s no sound that could be better than that. Not even a view could be more beautiful. Calum Hood laughing in front of the Eiffel Tower, in the middle of the night, surrounded by stars is a sight that no one will ever experience and you hold this moment close to your heart.

“I’m moving here.” You say after a few minutes of silence. 

“You can’t.” 

“Why?” 

“I can’t live without you.” Your heart skips a beat. “How am I supposed to wake up on time and to go to all my appointments if you don’t remind me?” You both laugh. 

“Fine, I’ll honor you with my presence for a little while longer.” 

“Thank you.” 

For a moment, you look straight into each other's eyes. The world seems to stop, except for the Tower and the music in the distance. Calum takes a piece of your hair behind your ear and you can see your reflection in his eyes. 

“It’s getting late, we should go.” He whispers close to your lips.

“Do we really have to go?” You want to close your eyes but you can’t seem to leave the sight of his face. A face that you see everyday but that you can’t get enough of. 

“Yeah but this’ll be our little secret. A place that you can escape to when you’re tired of the world. It’s gonna be here-” He says before pointing to your mind, “-and here.” He stops pointing to your heart and for a second you stop breathing.

“We have too many secrets, Calum.” You say as he takes your hand and walks towards the Taxi. You can’t see his face but his body language is telling you that he’s smiling.

He opens the door of the car and gets in and you follow him, not before looking at the Eiffel Tower one last time and taking a deep breath. 

The drive back to the party passes quickly and silently, your head is again resting on Calum's shoulder and his head is resting on yours, your hands are intertwined as you play with your fingers while the stereo plays slow, almost inaudible music.

“We are here.” The driver says with a strong accent and you realize that you're back in that building. You both get out of the car and while Calum pays for the ride, you look around you. 

“It’s okay to escape reality every once in a while, as long as you remember to come back to reality to me.” He whispers while you get inside the house and you look at him confused before noticing the scene in front of you. 

As you enter through the big door, you see that everything looks exactly as when you left. People are doing the same things they were doing before and while you throw your jacket on the couch, you notice that the stereo is playing the same playlist it was playing a couple of hours ago. 

Calum is back at talking with Roy and Luke, he’s holding a drink and he’s laughing at something his friend is saying.

You go back to the group you were with at the start of the party, nobody seemed to have noticed your absence. The girl in front of you keeps talking about the promotion she got at work but you’re not really listening. 

You look around before your gaze gets placed in front of you and you notice that Calum is looking at you too, he gives you a questioning look and winks before turning his attention back to his friends.

You smile.

[singtotheskiies]

to the rescue // teen! ben hargreeves x reader

summary: when it’s your turn to be parenting experiment of the week, ben decides to take matters into his own hands—or, rather, tentacles.

request (by a lovely lovely anon💕): Hi I adore your writing❤️. Can you do a Ben Hargreeves x reader where the reader is restrained in a cell by Reginald and Ben comes and saves the day. Thx

words: 1893

warnings: emotional manipulation (it’s prick of the year reginald hargreeves, what do we expect), imprisonment

a/n: i feel like this one is right shit bc i wasn’t in a really good groove while writing it but ANYWAY please enjoy our bb boy:))))) (also!! empath!reader)

✖️✖️✖️

Dad stands in your doorway, intimidating as always, light glinting off his ever-present monocle. “Number Eight,” he says—crisp, harsh, and clear. “Come with me. Today we have a different form of training for you.”

“Where are we going?” you ask him. He’s not leading you towards the usual training room, and you’re without a partner—something you’ve never trained without due to your empathic abilities.

“Never you mind,” he says bluntly. You sigh, looking down at your feet. Trying to get information out of Dad is unnecessarily difficult sometimes—and you can’t read him as easily as you can your siblings. He’s scarily good at hiding his emotions.

He leads you down a few corridors before pausing and taking a blindfold out of his coat pocket. “Turn around.”

“Why? Where are we going?” You’re a bit worried now. “Turn around, Number Eight,” he repeats, harsher this time. “I do not have time for your questions.” You’ve got no choice, so you do as he says. The blindfold is tight—a bit too much so, but you know it’s pointless to bring it up. The two of you walk in silence for several minutes—you don’t think you’ve left the house, but your steps haven’t followed a route you’re familiar with. The Academy is big, though—maybe you’ve misjudged and you’re really just being led in circles to confuse you. Dad’s voice cuts through your thoughts, telling you to watch your step. You carefully move into some sort of space, confused as to why you’ve stopped. His hands come up to the nape of your neck, untying the blindfold from around your eyes. The fabric drops away to reveal a dark, metallic room with no furnishings. You’ve never seen it before or heard Dad talk about it—it almost looks like some sort of prison, and anxiety begins to push up into your chest. “Uh, Dad? Where are we?” you ask, fear making its way into your voice. You silently curse yourself for it—Dad hates any display of weakness. He doesn’t answer, instead busying himself with a huge hydraulic lock on the outside of the door. This does nothing to help your growing panic. “Dad?” you ask a few more times, voice rising with each repetition. “Dad!” “You will stay here until I let you out.” He finally answers, still not looking at you. “Goodbye, Number Eight.” He steps out of the chamber, locks hissing as the door seals itself behind him. Your brain enters full-blown panic, and you bang on the door, screaming for him to come back. You no longer care about showing weakness—tears spill over your cheeks as Dad’s back fades away and your banging grows weaker and weaker. When your voice gets too hoarse to yell and you’re convinced no one can hear you, you sink to the ground in a miserable heap. After a few minutes of crying, you sit up weakly and attempt to clear your head. You’ve never seen this chamber or the hallway it’s situated in before, but it logically has to be within the Academy somewhere. Maybe it’s underground or in a wing you’ve never been allowed access to? You instinctively close your eyes, reaching out to see if you can pick up on anyone’s emotions. Usually, you can sense your siblings from across the house, but the impenetrable walls of your cell and your admittedly less-than-functional mental state don’t help your case. You give up after a few minutes of mental searching and rest your forehead against the cold metal of one of the walls. And, since you have literally nothing else to do, you think. Clearly, this is one of Dad’s experiments—probably not too far off from when he’d lock Klaus in the mausoleum or when he’d throw dangerous weapons at Diego to see if he could save himself. They historically haven’t gone so well, as both siblings have ended up scarred—Klaus emotionally and Diego physically. You’re a bit worried as to what he has in store for you, but you’re not about to let yourself get hurt if you can help it. It’s likely that Dad’s locked you up to see how your abilities react to not being around people and their constantly-changing emotions. Maybe he thinks you’ll wither away. Perhaps it’s the opposite, and he’s examining the possibility of you tapping into your own feelings. Whatever the case may be, you resolve to try and remain as positive as you can about the situation, so you push down your fear and focus on happier things. Inevitably, almost embarrassingly, your thoughts roam to Ben. He’s the quietest of your siblings, always nose-deep in a book or sitting in silent contemplation. Despite his antisocial nature, the two of you have formed a close bond over the years. You find the contrast of his visceral power with his shy nature interesting, and he’s been perfectly content to sit and listen to you babble away about everything and nothing.

There’s also the fact that the two of you usually get paired together for training, since you can’t read him as easily as you can your other siblings. Dad says it’s likely because of the alien presence underneath his skin—the tendrils block his human presence somehow. And so, to create the biggest challenge for you, Dad’s made you spend hours on end with Ben, studying what feelings you can discern in order to strengthen your abilities. While some would become frustrated by the lack of ease you’ve experienced, it only eggs you on. You find Ben absolutely fascinating—a feeling that’s deepened over the years until you’ve come to accept the fact that you’re crushing on him, hard. Despite wearing your heart on your sleeve at all times, you’ve desperately tried to keep your feelings hidden—you can’t have any way of knowing if he returns those feelings, and your embarrassment would be supreme if he found out and didn’t feel the same.

Your cheeks heat up as your mind drifts to his jet-black hair, fine features, and adorably shy nature. There’s nothing better to do, so you let your mind spin scenarios of the two of you together—holding hands, going on small dates, cuddling on the couch. The thoughts stir a fluttering warmth in your chest that makes your present circumstances slightly more bearable. You hardly notice your breaths evening out and your eyelids blinking slower and slower as you daydream away.

You start awake an indeterminate amount of time later. You can’t remember falling asleep, and you have absolutely no way of knowing how much time has passed since Dad locked you up. Your crooked perception of time pales, however, to your all-consuming thirst. There’s no compartments or nooks anywhere that could be hiding a water supply—just smooth metal walls. Sinking back against the door, you try your hardest not to think about the dryness in your throat crying out to be lessened.

You judge it to be a few hours later when you see movement out of the corner of your eye. Instantly, you sit up, hoping it’s Dad come to let you free—but what you see instead is a million times better.

Ben’s sprinting down the hallway leading to your cell, face overtaken with concern. When he gets close enough to see you, he visibly softens. He tries to say something, but the thick hydraulic door blurs his words together. You shrug, pointing to your ears and shaking your head. He tries again, pointing to you with questioning eyes. You okay?

You nod, secretly thinking yes, now that you’re here. His brows are still knit together with worry, so you smile to reassure him that you really are okay. His eyes roam over your face for a few moments before he blinks and takes a step back, motioning for you to do the same. You’re not sure what he’s going to do, but you trust him completely.

He doubles down on himself before flailing his limbs out and arching his back. His tentacles erupt out of his stomach, lashing out and latching onto the huge handle of your cell door. The metal and glass shriek at the new pressure before slowly but surely bending from the force of Ben’s attack. When they’re broken enough to satisfy him, his tentacles retract and he scrambles forward to open the door separating the two of you.

As soon as you can slip through the door, you rush into his arms, wrapping him in a fierce hug. He hesitates for the briefest moment before returning the embrace. After being by yourself for so long, his arms feel so good around you, and your heart leaps in your chest as you catch a whiff of his smell—comforting and exciting all at once. Even though you could stay right here in his arms forever, you pull away slightly after several moments.

“How’d you know I was here?” you ask, grinning at the look of relief on Ben’s face.

“I thought it was weird when Dad didn’t schedule me to train with you like we usually would. No one knew where you went, so after a few hours, I decided to try and find you. Earlier I saw Dad coming out of a doorway I’d never seen anyone use before, so I used that as my starting place and, well—he’s got a bunch of charts monitoring how you’re doing. I knew I was in the right place. I’m just glad you’re okay,” he says, voice getting quieter. “I was really worried.”

“We’ve been through worse,” you laugh, but his eyes don’t brighten at your joke.

“This is different, though,” he answers, voice rising again in anger. “He literally locked you up, I mean—that’s actually insane. No father should ever do that to their child.”

“I’m sure he means well,” you say weakly, but you both know it’s not true. Dad really only cares about himself. There’s a beat, then Ben speaks again.

“You sure you’re all right?” His eyes are sad and searching as they look into yours.

Summoning your courage, you say, “I am now that you’re here.” Ben’s eyes widen immediately, scanning your face almost hopefully. The corners of his mouth tilt up slowly, almost hesitantly—as if he’s afraid to let himself go completely.

“Good, ‘cause I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t,” he breathes, and you notice that the distance between the two of you is narrowing. Just a few more inches and your foreheads would be touching—and so you take it upon yourself to both reassure and thank Ben in one motion. You tilt your head forward and gently press your lips to his.

His breath hitches at the contact, body freezing for the briefest of moments before his hands come up to cup your jaw. You smile and whisper a thank you against his lips before drawing back a fraction. Ben’s eyes are slow to open, and his cheeks are flushed when they finally do, gazing at you with so much half-lidded admiration your heart swells. You press a soft kiss to his cheek, and you don’t need your powers to tell you that somehow, Ben is just as smitten with you as you are with him.

And when the two of you are given an inevitable harsh scolding in Dad’s office, you can’t bring yourself to care much—you’re too focused on how Ben’s fingers are laced gently around yours.

[defectiveconantoy]

Memories (ShinRan)

Fandom: Detective Conan

Pairing: ShinRan

Rating: T

Genres: Angst, Comfort

Words: 1,535

Author’s Notes: Remember my old WIP? I changed the title and finished drafting it right before @shinranweek was announced. 😅 The story is angst-ish mixed with confort. Enjoy!

“What a gloomy day!” Ran stares at the living room window with a frown on her face before returning to the couch. Shinichi, on the other hand, is fine with staying at home. He calmly stares at the television screen and says, “I wouldn’t worry. There’s always tomorrow. We can go to the park again, like we did yesterday. And remember, I’m not going anywhere. I’m here to stay. We have time.” That reassured Ran.

The Kudo mansion is quiet this Saturday afternoon, except for the rain lightly tapping on the windows and the sound of soup boiling in the background. Its smell of broth and fresh green onions linger around the living room and near the couch where she and Shinichi were located. Ran constantly switches her attention between the living room and kitchen while Shinichi sits and absentmindedly watches television.

Ran is spending the weekend over at Shinichi’s house. His parents are away for the week, and her father, Kogoro, left town for a case. During her visits, Ran’s favorite activity is to cook warm, homemade meals for an eager and hungry Shinichi, a tradition that first started during his Conan days. Today’s dish is miso soup, the perfect fix for the rainy weather. Good thing the meal sounds good because mothing good is on television right now. Bored, Shinichi daydreams, drifting to flashbacks of the past year’s chaos.

Calling it all chaos is an understatement. Might as well call it having your body and spirit stretched, compressed, stomped on, and slapped around. Being Conan was not easy. It was like one’s soul was screaming but nothing came out because its lips were sealed shut. He wished to tell Ran everything, to run free and stop living a double life and pretending he was not really Kudo Shinichi. The dangerous situation was an imaginary brick wall between him and Ran. He looked forward to finally breaking it and no longer seeing her hurting and waiting.

The Black Organization’s attack on him was a flash of lightning that ruined years of work achieved during his lifetime. Never will he forget the humiliation endured from being knocked down, bloodied, pulled by the hair, and forced to swallow that wretched pill. The poison’s few minutes of piercing, bone melting pain were followed by missed opportunities. Being Conan was a unique experience, but he can’t deny how his new life caused him to temporarily sacrifice his old one. To this day, he struggles to adjust but still manages to move on, in spite of slipping the occasional ah le le and Ran-neechan.

He next thinks about the moment he received the permanent APTX 4869 antidote. Days after receiving the pill, he recalls lying on a couch near Haibara Ai, who observed and documented his reaction to the drug. “Good news, Kudo-kun! Looks like the antidote is working as expected. Your vitals look fine. No heart problems or side effects. Everything looks great. Come back to visit me one week from now.” “Tch! You’d see me anyway. I live right next door,” Shinichi joked back.

At first, he was scared the drug was a fluke and would turn him back into Conan. Luckily, it ended well because he experienced the heart pounding and drastic bone growth without the shrinking afterwards. The worst after-effect was becoming Haibara’s test subject for a few days before her trying the antidote on herself. It was a sacrifice he was willing to make. After all, the first step in facing the Organization and gaining power over them was becoming himself again.

Back to reality. Shinichi shifts his attention back to the television screen and sighs. “Commercials are currently on. Still nothing good! How stupid!” The rain briefly stopped, but the clouds remain present. The house is a bit dark during these daytime hours. Ran is now in the kitchen stirring the soup.

Ran. Shinichi now blushes after he remembers telling her the truth a few weeks ago. He returned to the Mouri residence to pick up Conan’s (or his) belongings. They spoke alone in her bedroom, with her doing most of the talking. And boy, did he feel guilty! The memories hurt. He feels embarassed now while deep in his thoughts as he did then. He lied to her about his identity and used that front to stay at her home, take a bath with her, and unintentionally tune in on secrets she would never tell him as Shinichi.

Their conversation was actually quite a relief. Ran was more upset by him frequently running away to solve cases than over his massive lie. Shinichi felt grateful for her not breaking up with him, though their argument was settled under one condition: she keeps a very close eye on him. At least he finally gets to spend more time with her as himself this time.

He also owes Ran his life after the Black Organization’s defeat. Shinichi initially refused to get her involved. She instead was persistent and unwilling to listen. Never will she make the mistake of letting him run into danger alone again. His fast reflexes and her karate skills helped them escape a deadly kidnapping.

All this thinking makes Shinichi dose off and take a nap. In his sleep, he envisions Ran and himself strapped together, roped by their arms and waists and their backs turned away from one another. Ran lets out a soft cry, “Shinichi. I don’t want to die.” “Don’t say that,” he whispers. “Look, I have a plan. What we will do is —ah!” Gin appears out of nowhere, interrupting his speech before point a gun to his chest and forcing the poison on him again. He shoots and runs away before Shinichi could fight for Ran and himself. His vision is now blurred, and Ran is nowhere to be felt. He whimpers, and right when he becomes concerned about his body shrinking again, he wakes up sweating and screaming.

“Shinichi!” Concerned, Ran immediately darts towards the living room and sits on the edge of the couch. Shinichi’s eyes widened. He jitters, pants, and looks around in all directions before throwing himself at Ran with a tight embrace. She silently smiles and begins stroking his back. “Shhh! There! It’s okay. It’s okay,” Ran whispers before kissing his hair. He moves up and rests his face against her left shoulder. She eventually presses his back as a cue to change positions. “Hmm...please don’t leave,” Shinichi whispers. Ran responds, “Of course not! I just want to adjust myself.” “Oh!”

They settle down. Shinichi turns the TV off and begins talking: “Ran, I just had a nightmare about us. The Black Organization kidnapped us. Gin shot me and left me for dead once more. I couldn’t hear you, and I swore I was going to turn into Conan again. My first encounter with the Organization left me scared for my life. Scared for you too. Scared they would hurt you. I’m sorry again for everything. If I could take back this past year, I would. I betrayed you. I’d stop myself from leaving you behind back in Tropical Land. Back when I was Conan-kun, I wished you knew everything, but it would hurt you. I was also told not to tell you. Agasa-hakase and Haibara —”

“Ai-chan?”

“Yeah, her,” Shinichi continued. She even aimed a gun at me at the hospital after you donated blood to treat my gunshot wound. Or so I thought. It was a fake gun concealing a small bouquet of flowers. She scared me into not telling you about the Organization or Conan-kun’s true identity. I don’t blame her. That girl was really scared. She would panic any time she sensed their presence. Honestly, I was scared too, only better at hiding it. I didn’t want you to ever see me suffering and turning into Conan or get suspicious, discover everything on your own, and get yourself into deep trouble. Sorry again for getting you into this mess.”

“Don’t apologize,” Ran started. “I trust you. I knew you were hurting but couldn’t tell me for some some reason. I waited for the day you’d return and tell me everything face-to-face. When you first left, I’d sometimes think you were out fooling around with other women. But that’s not you. You were pretty close to me before that incident. You, the Deduction Freak, always talking to me about Holmes or the case of the day. Still, you changed since leaving. I sensed it though our phone calls and in Conan-kun.”

He remarked, “Conan was a new experience. I think it provided opportunities. I met the Shonen Tantei-dan, Hattori, Haibara, Akai-san, and so on. I also gained the courage to confess my feelings to you. Anyway, it’s nice to be back. I missed you.”

“I missed you too. I’m glad you’re back. Well, the miso soup is almost ready. Want to help me prepare the table?”

Shinichi replies with a grin, “Sure, Ran-neechan!”

“Here we go again! You can’t get away with your Conan-kun act this time.”

“Haha! I kid, I kid,” Shinichi joked. He smiled in Ran’s direction. “Let’s do this. I’m hungry!”