#the dumber these are the more I’m struggling at work so you know the struggle is real today

[morganbritton132]

Eddie posts a Tiktok where he says, “Here is a reenactment of a real conversation I once heard Dustin and Steve have.”

Eddie as Dustin: Steve, what do you know about the X-Men?

Eddie as Steve: ex-men?? I think they’re just called women.

<- Last Post | Next Post ->

#the dumber these are the more I’m struggling at work so you know the struggle is real today #I imagine this conversation happening in 2000 when Dustin asks Steve to go see the first x-men movie with him #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson tiktok saga

[tired-biscuit]

i want to ride yuuji so bad and then start crying cause he’s so thick and big and then have his strong arms wrap around me and then he starts thrusting up and we’re both drooling and moaning that would be a dream

18+ MDNI, fem!reader // cw: good girl, good girl, GOOD GIRL!

he’s cooing at you while caressing your cheeks and wiping your tears away, and it’s all so goddamn sweet that it outright hurts; in a good way, though.

always in a good way when it’s with him.

especially because he does it so effortlessly? being kind is like second nature to someone like yuuji and it’s hard not to melt into a puddle of gooey emotions and spill even more tears when he’s looking up at you with hearts in his warm honey-coloured eyes and there’s this prominently lovestruck look on his face that makes him look even dumber than he already is.

but he’s also cute, awfully so. his hair is an absolute mess, his lips are in the colour of dark pink from all the kissing, his cheeks are flushed, and his skin burns so hot that he’s sweating like crazy underneath the thick hoodie that he’s still got on. you’ve been in such a rush to get him inside you that you’re both still completely dressed, aside from the bits of clothing that have been tugged down and pushed to the side in order to make the entire thing easier for you, of course.

however, having all these layers on is simply excruciating. the heat makes him pant and causes his chest to heave in a faster rhythm than normal; and all those breaths make it somewhat hard to get all the praise that he feels for you out of his system.

but yuuji is no quitter. so he swallows the runny saliva that keeps on gathering in his mouth between sentences and threatens to spill past the corner of his lips. it’s audible and it makes his adam’s apple bob in his throat, and yet he still manages to thank you in hushed, trembling whispers and broken grunts and moans.

he thanks you for being such a good girlfriend; for being so willing to give it a chance when it comes to riding him and taking him in all the way, despite the fact that it’s only been a couple of days since he’s taken your virginity and your most sensitive parts are still sore and tender from all the gentle pounding — but pounding nevertheless — he had done after getting his first taste.

you feel heat sear your face as you listen to the jumble of gratitude he’s putting before you and look at him from underneath your lashes, trying to not pay mind how tears still cling to them as stubbornly as ever.

this entire thing has not gone the way you’ve imagined it to go at all and it’s frustrating as hell. and how couldn’t it be? i mean, you’ve known how big he is, have known how it feels to have him inside you, but jesus fucking christ, this position is nowhere as easy as missionary had been — and even then you’d struggled a great deal.

because now, you’re the one who has to do all the work while he sits there, looking pretty, sometimes eyeing how your arousal glistens on his pubic hair, even though your clit hasn’t come anywhere near to kissing the spot from how much of a hard time you’re having when it comes to sitting on his dick entirely.

if only you could just—

“hey,” he says the word with such care as he cups your cheek that it sends butterflies twirling in your belly. his hand is just so big, it urges you to pet yourself against it like a little kitty. “you okay?” yet another look that’s brimming with concern is thrown your way. “we don’t have to do this if it’s too much, you know… just tell me.”

“did you really mean all that?” you mumble the exact moment his hands reach for your hips, clearly aiming to manhandle you into a position that you’d be able to endure a bit better.

“mean what?” he asks, glancing downwards just for a second as your hands stop his own. his cock twitches in response — he’s always been such a sucker for hand holding and this time is no exception. when your fingers intertwine, his heart sings in answer.

“that i’m a good girl?” the eye contact that you initiate in return is determined instead of anxious all of a sudden and it makes his pupils visibly dilate right in front of you.

it seems like you’re no quitter either.

“‘course i did,” yuuji replies in a heartbeat, cherishing how you squeeze around him whenever he gives you his approval, his praise. “you’re such a good girl, my good girl, the goodest girl to ever walk the good girl planet... they should make you mayor of goodie town.”

you giggle at that and his smile quivers with pleasure from how it makes your pussy tighten even more. he’s doing everything he can not to grab you, press you against his chest and just follow instinct and start slamming away.

maybe next time… maybe you’ll be ready for it next time.

“you’re so silly,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him again, though this time on the forehead. his skin tastes salty, and while it may be wrong, knowing that you’re not the only one that’s having a hard time right now makes you feel just a little bit calmer.

unbeknownst to you, the fact that you’re more relaxed allows you to take yet another inch of him inside you. your muscles slacken and his fat cockhead drags against your walls as a result, slipping and pushing in, in, in. the ring of cloudy white slick forms just a little below the lower half of his cock now, stretching you further and making your tummy feel hot and tingly.

it’s definitely progress.

and it makes poor yuuji moan straight into your mouth.

#he’s such a cutie pie sweetie honey bebi sweetheart!!!!!!! #i love him soooo much #yuuji x reader #yuuji smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #yuji smut #yuji x reader #itadori smut #biscuit drabbles

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Concerning Habits

Dean and Sam Winchester x little sister!reader, Castiel x teen!reader (platonic obviously)

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: you’re too embarrassed to share one of your habits with your brothers.

“Would you stop moving around back there?” Your oldest brother Dean demanded. “You’re shaking the whole car, just go to sleep.”

“What do you think I’m trying to do,” you grumbled, changing positions again as you struggled to grasp onto the sleep that’d been evading you for the past hour.

“Since when are you such an insomniac anyway?” Sam asked absentmindedly from the passengers seat, where he was pouring over one of the Men of Letters books.

“I don’t know,” you lied. You knew exactly why you’d been tossing and turning for the past hour, but you’d rather throw yourself out of the Impala then tell your brothers why.

Truthfully, it was kind of stupid. When you’d packed your bag to come on the hunt with your brothers, you’d forgotten to pack Jasper, the teddy bear you’d had almost since birth. You hated that you couldn’t get to sleep without him, but you’d tried before and it never worked. It was a little comfort in a world where comfort was few and far between.

You were sure that there were two reasons that you needed him to sleep. The first was more of a tangible reason; you’d gotten used to holding something every night for your whole life, so to be without it threw you off. The other reason was more personal; having that bear was like having a reminder of your whole family with you. Your mother had bought it for you, John had sewed an eyepatch on his face when one of his little plastic eyes fell off, and Sam and Dean had sewed up rips and tears in the thing countless times. Without him, you felt…alone. Like the little pieces of your family that you were desperate to remember were gone.

Of course, this was way too much to dump on Sam and Dean, who were just trying to enjoy a peaceful drive. So, you gave up on your useless attempts at sleep, and instead grabbed your headphones and turned on one of your playlists. You made sure to keep your phone under the small blanket over you, not wanting to alert Sam and Dean to your restlessness.

“Wake me when it’s my turn to drive,” Sam told Dean, and you couldn’t help but be jealous at the way he fell asleep almost immediately.

Four hours later, you had exhausted both your body and your playlist, yet still sleep wouldn’t come. There was still over six hours left in the drive, and you were sure that you were going to go insane.

When the Impala pulled over and Dean and Sam switched seats, you noticed Sam staring at you.

“Why are you awake?” He asked. Dean glanced back to look at you.

“I…” you didn’t have a good answer, so you didn’t.

“Did you sleep at all?” Dean asked, and when you ignored this too, he began to look alarmed. “Alright, what’s up? You need to sleep.”

“I’m trying,” your voice came out in a mumble.

“For the past four hours?” Sam didn’t sound convinced. “You’re either trying too hard, or not hard enough.”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Why?” Dean asked. “You looked half dead when we left for this trip, I thought you’d be out in five minutes flat.”

“I just…I left something at the bunker,” you slowly sat up, giving up on even your fake sleep. “And I need it.”

“Why didn’t you say something before?” Dean demanded. “If you need it-“

“I didn’t realize until it was too late,” you sighed. “And-and I don’t need need it.”

“What’d you forget?” Sam asked, confused.

When you didn’t answer, Dean turned in his seat to face you.

“Kid? C’mon, talk to me, is it like medication or something? I might have some sleeping pills with me.”

You shook your head, feeling dumber than ever.

“Not-not pills, just…” you lowered your eyes, resisting the urge to hide under your blanket. “Just something that helps me sleep.”

“How about this,” Sam sighed, trying to stall Dean’s rising frustration. “How about I call Cas, and he can get it for you?”

“I don’t wanna bother Cas,” you said quietly.

“Hey Cas,” you flinched in surprise at Dean’s sudden outburst. “We’re on I94, mile marker…78, and we could use some hel-“ Dean stopped talking when Cas appeared suddenly next to you.

“What’s wrong?”

“Ask her,” Dean gestured at you, and you felt your face heat up, your ears turning pink. It would’ve been embarrassing enough for your brothers to find out about Jasper, but an actual angel?

“Dean-“

“We’re gonna be on this hunt for days, I’m not about to let you just not sleep for days, so tell the angel what you need and get it over with.”

“You want me to help you sleep?” Cas asked, trying to understand why he’d been summoned.

“No, it’s just…I-I left something at home, and I need it to sleep, and since you can like, teleport…” your voice trailed off when you saw realization light up Cas’s face.

“Alright, what is it you want me to get?”

“It’s…” you couldn’t admit it, you just couldn’t. You tried to skirt around the answer. “It’s in my room…”

“You might have to be more specific,” Cas said slowly, his brows drawn together.

“It’s a bear, ok? A stuffed animal bear, and it’s on my bed,” you’d given up completely on both your attempts to keep the truth from them and any inclination to look at anyone in the car. You’d buried your head in the blanket that you held in your hands, and didn’t look up even when you heard the gentle whoosh of Castiel leaving.

“Kid, you ok?” Sam asked softly, to which you merely nodded.

“Here you go.”

At the sound of Cas’s voice, you finally looked up to see him holding Jasper out to you.

“I don’t understand. You seem distressed,” Castiel observed as you pulled Jasper into your arms.

“I’m not distressed, I’m embarrassed,” you huffed. “It’s…it’s just so stupid.”

“I’ve observed that many humans have sentimental attachments to objects, I don’t understand why this is different,” Castiel cocked his head.

“Stuffed animals are for kids,” you mumbled.

“So?” Dean’s voice from the front seat surprised you.

“So? You don’t think it’s stupid?”

“Kid, we all have our…” Dean searched for a word. “Quirks. And considering some of the issues me and Sammy have had,” his wry smile made you relax slightly, “I think ‘needing a stuffed animal’ is pretty low on our Concerning Habits list.”

“You really don’t think it’s that dumb?” You asked.

“Honestly, it’s below Sam’s haircut on my list of weird things in our family. Far below,” Dean scoffed, and you felt yourself relax completely.

“Ok, enough,” you grinned at the sound of Sam’s grumpy tone. “Shouldn’t you be getting some sleep?”

You finally settled down in your seat, smiling at Cas and thanking him quietly. Once he vanished, you stretched out completely in the back seat, and within minutes you were fast asleep, your bear tucked tightly under your arm.

Because you fell asleep so quickly, you missed the way Dean turned in his chair to smile at you, and the whispered conversation he shared with Sam.

“You know, that kid is adorable.”

Sam laughed softly, glancing back at you before turning back to focus on the road.

“Yeah, I know.”

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean and sam #dean winchester x you #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #supernatural dean #the winchesters #winchesters x reader #dean x sister #sam winchester x sister!reader #dean winchester x sister #dean winchester x sister!reader #winchesters x sister #winchester x reader #the winchester brothers #spn sam winchester #castiel

[leclsrc]

hello!! may i request mick smut plsss with praise as always, u write smut mick so well ily!!!

you’ve been waiting – ms47

You miss your boyfriend when he’s away, so you miss no time in letting him know just how much.

auds here... 100% this was exacerbated by mick in the ice bath, christ hes hot. title from this.

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... smut, penetrative sex, praise lots (as per auds law), kinda dom mick, also mick being good, breeding kink man, Praise. praise

Your boyfriend’s been so caught up with work lately, it’s almost a miracle when you catch him in between a meeting and an interview, on a night where he’s finally free. Just gonna finish this ice bath, he texts, wait for me baby. Anxious, and with desire brewing in the pit of your stomach, you exhale as you wait for him to arrive in his hotel room.

He’s toweling himself off, still shirtless when he does walk in. He rubs his hair dry, a damp tee slung over his broad shoulder. “Hey, baby.”

“Mick—!” You yelp when he catches you, grips you tightly. He’s cold all over, his smile devious against your neck when he feels you struggle. “Ah, put me down!” Water seeps from his skin onto yours; when he presses a kiss to your neck, he tastes the ice.

“Haven’t you missed me?” He says, clicking his tongue and setting you both down on the bed. Your skin’s cold now, too, you realize when he clambers atop you. “I know I have.”

“I really have missed you,” you counter. “But you’re frigid.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Am I?” He tosses the towel somewhere else and dips down to kiss you. Clearly, he’s not in the interest of wasting time. “Show me,” he says when he parts from you, voice mumbled and firm against your lips. “Show me how much you missed me, yeah?”

So you do, your hands warming against his skin, nimble as you wrap them around his neck, stroke over his shoulders; you pull him close, press your mouths together. His hands are cool against your hips, tugging your flimsy cotton shorts down until his fingers meet lace. “I’ve missed you too, baby. Missed your pretty face, this pretty pussy.”

“Mick,” you whine, shy, “c’mon, baby, be good and fuck me hard.”

“I’ll be good,” he says smoothly. “Know you love it when I am.”

You bite your lip teasingly. “You gonna be good for me, then?”

“Yeah, I plan to be,” he replies quickly, letting you pull his cock out from his shorts. He’s hot all over, so soon after the ice bath, just because you’re here. You’re excited, eager, and the thought of you wanting his cock this desperately sends warmth trilling through him in waves. “I want you so bad, princess, God.”

“Mmm, really?” You ask lowly, guiding his cock into you. He’s big, and you haven’t fucked in weeks—the sensation is dizzying, knocks you into a state of euphoria. He thrusts, and you feel the coil in your stomach tightening and loosening. His thumb presses against your clit—you’re even dumber now, brain muddled, thoughts losing coherence.

“Yeah,” he says gruffly. “So fucking wet, baby, you’re sucking me right in—”

“I know,” you breathe, whimpering. “Please, give me all of it.”

“Asking for all of it when you can barely take it,” he coos. “God, I’ve missed this.”

He’s been around Europe, working, for a while now. Away from you, away from this.

“I fucked my fist thinking about you. Thinking about—fuck—your eyes all rolled back, tongue out. Wishing I could see that face when you’re stretched out on my dick. Yeah?”

“Fuck, Mick,” you moan as your clit starts to pulse under his fingers. “I’m cumming,” you wail, breathless—more slick gushes down his cock as he continues to bottom out, your nails digging hard into the sheets. You writhe, overwhelmed by the feeling.

“Already?” Half amused, he’s panting desperately, his dick twitching in you. “It’s not even all the way in—Jesus. Such a good girl, baby.” 

You moan, nearly crying, the pressure in your eyes nearly causing tears to roll down your face. It feels so good, so big and stretching you out, thumb rubbing quick circles against your clit, his lips heavy and damp against your ear telling you the dirtiest, nastiest things that only serve to make you so much more wet.

He pulls away, wrangles your legs up from around him to pressed against you. The angle is so much better this way, and he gets to control you so much better, watch the air be knocked out of you every time he thrusts. You grip the sheets, ah ah ah leaving your mouth in whiny, high-pitched moans of overwhelm.

“Mick,” you cry out weakly. “Har—harder.” 

You squirm a little each time he bottoms out, but Mick keeps your legs pinned against your chest easily. He’s barely letting you move, grip bruising on your hips.

“Are you getting what you wanted?” he pants, slamming into you. “You asked me to fuck you hard, right?”

You nod tearily, so he continues to give you just what you asked for.

“You want me to fuck a load into you?” He groans, whiny almost.

You mouth affirmation hazily. You’re barely coherent, pleasure rolling through you and causing your toes to curl. He sees that, sees your mouth dropping open, sees your eyes rolling back. And he knows you’re about to cum.

“Cum for me again, then I’ll give it to you,” he pants. “Go.”

You nod, babbling nonsense as you spasm and cumming. It feels too good; your brows knit together and your lip almost bruises from how hard you bite on it. “You’re ruined,” he says with an innocent smile. “All ‘cause I was good for you. That’s what you wanted, right?”

“Yeah, you’re s’good,” you mutter dumbly. 

“You know I’ll always give you what you want,” he says. “Because you’re a real good girl for me, too.” 

He can still taste the water on your skin, but neither of you are cold anymore. He loves that taste; it makes his cock twitch inside of you, and he has to pull out quickly, or else it’ll make him cum. And he doesn’t want to cum yet, doesn’t want to give you the satisfaction of him pumping his release inside of you.

Mick presses your legs down, so he can look at your eyes roll up, your tits jiggle. You smile up at him, winking, because you just love this side of him: it’s so fucking hot to see that hungry expression on his adorable face while he’s manhandling you with his greedy hands.

And you don’t seem to mind it. You’re sniffling, whining about how it hurts, about how it’s so big, Mick, wait wait wait—you’re still pushing your ass out eagerly so he can hit you that deep. And you’re still slurring out encouragements between each complaint, telling him how fucking amazing his cock is. So he gives it to you roughly, over and over and over, stopping only to nip at your jaw.

“Who’s Mick’s good girl?” He asks sweetly. “Who?”

“Mick,” you choke out, eyes squeezed shut from how good this feels. You’ve cum twice at this point. Your throat feels dry.

“Tell me,” he says. His voice hardens a little.

“Me,” you say, teary. “I am.”

“You’re what, baby?” He asks, hushed against your ear. “Come on, give it to me.”

“I’m”—you swallow, growing wetter around him, the slick sounds of your cunt loud—“I’m Mick’s good girl.”

“That’s it,” he says, encouraging your last orgasm out of you in a drawn-out, quiet whine. You cum together this time. He buries his head in your neck, whines as he releases his load inside you, gives you what you want as always. Your hands tangle into his blond hair, and you giggle when you’ve both come down.

“Love you,” you say, smiling and breathless. You stretch your legs out. 

“If an ice bath gets me sex this good, I’ll go five times a day,” he jokes, tired, against your shoulder.

#f1 #mick schumacher #mick schumacher smut #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher fluff #mick schumacher imagines #f1 x reader

[toournextadventure]

Hi! Could you write about a Wednesday x oblivious!reader, with reader working on Whethervane with Tyler and Xavier during Outreach day, please? Tyler and Xavier bickering about liking Wednesday and who is most likely to actually end up with her. They both have an idea on trying to get advice from reader, as they're both friends, the three of them not knowing Wednesday and reader like each other.

I'm not dead! My nieces just gave me TWO strains of the flu so I'm fighting like my life depends on it 😅

is it me?

Ah, Outreach Day. The most useless day of the year, although Enid always seemed to enjoy it. Maybe it's because she got to act all cutesy with Ajax now that she always "miraculously" ended up partnered with him. At least she was cute, you would give her that.

You, on the other hand, were tying your apron at the Weathervane with Xavier and Tyler. The little Cafe was pretty nice, always a frequent haunt of yours and Wednesday's, but working with those two? It would be enough to drive anyone mad and Wednesday had agreed. Yet you still noticed her fail to bite back the little smile when you had complained about it on the ride over.

But there you were, back in the present and stuck with Dumb and Dumber. Okay, maybe you didn't need to be quite so mean, they really weren't that bad. They were just insufferable when it came to the topic of Wednesday.

Who was always the topic of conversation with those two.

"She wouldn't go for some normie," Xavier said as he struggled to get the espresso machine working. Again.

"And she wouldn't go for some art school dropout," Tyler shot back, hiding it behind a smile as another customer came to the counter.

"You two are ridiculous," you whisper-shouted to them. "Just ask her yourselves."

They started a hushed argument, and you rolled your eyes before grabbing the quad you had managed to make before Xavier (you) broke the machine. A quad for your special girl. Friend. Your special friend. No, that wasn't any better, just a friend. Great, now you sounded like an idiot and you weren't even talking.

You nearly tripped over your own feet once you finally approached the table Wednesday was sitting at. It shouldn't have been a surprise that she was ditching Outreach Day; you would've done the same if you hadn't been paired with Xavier. Small manicured fingers followed the words on the pages of her book and you let out a sigh of relief that she hadn't seen you trip.

"On the house," you said softly so as not to startle her. Not that she would have startled anyway, but it was a habit.

"Does Tyler know?" Wednesday asked without looking up.

"Course not," you said with a shrug and a *clink* as you set the mug down. "What are they gonna do, fire me?"

At that Wednesday did look up and you froze. Froze because shit, she was looking at you and now you couldn't even think of words. Why was she looking at you like that? She needed to get her murder face back on before you internally combusted.

"Better get back to it," you chuckled and pointed your thumb back to the counter.

Spinning on your heels, you started walking back. And immediately hit your hip on the corner of a table. You let out a whispered “fuck” as you stumbled and regained your footing. There would be a bruise tomorrow, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that Wednesday Addams had gotten front row access to watching you make a complete and utter fool of yourself.

“I’m okay,” you said quickly as you turned to give a half-hearted wave at Wednesday. It didn’t seem like she cared; she was looking at you like you were some special kind of stupid.

And she was probably right because you walked backwards into another table.

Tyler and Xavier were snickering when you got back behind the counter. Along with every other person in the cafe, they had seen you embarrass yourself not once, but twice within the span of a minute. You slapped them both on the backs of their heads before shoving them out of the way and taking a few more orders.

“She’s looking at me,” Tyler said in the dreamiest voice he could muster. Who was he trying to fool? Neither you nor Xavier were buying it.

“Probably because you have coffee on your face,” Xavier shot back without hesitation. You felt yourself smile; this was going to be a fun Outreach Day.

“You’re close friends with her, right?” Tyler asked, and both you and Xavier looked up from what you were doing.

“Me?” You asked incredulously, and he nodded. “Well, yeah I guess.”

“Give us some advice then,” Tyler said with a shrug, causing Xavier to stand up straighter and pay more attention. “Gives us an even playing ground.”

An even playing ground. For them, not for you. Right. This whole stupid argument was about them winning over Wednesday, it had nothing to do with you. The coil in your stomach twisted tighter until you wanted to double over, but you stood your ground. You and Wednesday were friends and that was that.

“Why would I help you both try to win over Wednesday?” You asked with a nervous chuckle that you hoped hid your own thoughts.

“Because what else do you have to do today?” Xavier butted in.

You sighed and turned your gaze to where Wednesday was still sitting. Her nose was still buried in her book and her quad was nearly finished, and she looked just as stunning as always. Oh if only she knew the emotion turmoil she caused by simply existing. With a single lick of your bottom lip, you turned back to face your fellow imbeciles.

“She likes all things spooky and creepy,” you said as you leaned back against the counter and crossed your arms. “Think cemeteries, morgues, maybe abandoned buildings.”

“You sure?” Xavier asked. “Cemeteries?”

“Scared, Thorpe?” Tyler shot back with an obnoxious smirk.

“Boys,” you mumbled with a roll of your eyes. “Do you want to continue bickering like children, or do you want more advice?”

That shut them up quickly. You ushered them back to their jobs as you started working on the espresso machine that they still hadn’t fixed. They asked question after question as you all worked diligently, your eyes focused on the machine while they handled the customers. It was almost endearing, you thought, to bond over someone that you all had a crush on.

Not that anyone else knew about your crush, but that didn’t matter.

“All set,” you said to yourself as you patted the espresso machine fondly. Thank god Wednesday had taught you how to read enough Italian to fix it.

“Shit, here she comes.”

All three of you stood up quickly, ignoring the numerous things that you knocked over in the process. Another mess to clean, you thought with a grimace as you did your best to ignore it for the time being. It was the last thing on your mind when you finally saw Wednesday walking toward the counter, her eyes glued on… well, you didn’t really know who she was looking at.

“Can I get you something?” Tyler asked as he did his best to lean against the counter in a seductive way. It wasn’t working.

“You can all stop plotting,” Wednesday said simply. Tyler and Xavier froze in their spots; you bit your lip and turned your head so they wouldn’t see you trying not to laugh.

“What-”

‘-We’re not-”

“-It’s obvious and beneath you,” she continued. “You’re not nearly as quiet as you think you are.”

“Then give us a reason to stop,” Xavier cut in. “Which one of us do you like?”

You didn’t want to see who she was looking at as the silence started suffocating you. It didn’t matter which one of the boys she was looking at because it would break your heart anyway. But curiosity did kill the cat, and you finally turned your head back just enough to look right into Wednesday's eyes.

She’s looking at me?

“Me?-”

“-Them?”

Wednesday’s facial expression didn’t change at all of your exclamations of surprise. She just continued to look at you with something akin to fondness. Well, as akin as it could get from Wednesday Addams, but you would take whatever you could get.

“You can buy me another quad for starters,” Wednesday said before turning around and walking back to her booth while you all stood there, completely awe-struck in terribly different ways.

“Way to lead us on-”

“-How was I supposed to know?-”

“-Never trusting you again.”

#requests #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams imagine

[wosowrites]

They’re Gone Now (Jessie Fleming x Reader)

warnings: none

a/n: based off this request here

prompt: in which after magda and p leave, jessie is struggling, the reader and millie try to help her but little do they know, you’ve liked jessie for years now.

It was near close to impossible to not like Jessie Fleming. The team, Canadian and Chelsea always joked that "if you had a problem with Jessie you had a problem with thousands of people" but you liked to just say "if you have a problem with Jeff, you just have a problem." You and Jessie had been playing together for ten years now, having both gotten your senior call up for Canada at 15. You had never played on a team that didn’t have Jessie on it since then. Canada, UCLA, Chelsea, always together. So how could you not fall in love with her?

It had been a week since Pernille and Magda had left for Munich. Watching them leave felt like death for both you and Jessie. Niahm held it together more but you could tell in how much pain she was.

"It’ll be okay," she had said. "We’re orphans," you had answered, only half joking.

And then it was two weeks later, World Cup squads had been announced and you and Jessie were set to leave London to meet the CANWNT in Vancouver in two days. Most of the Chelsea girls were still in London, and they were the ones you texted when it had been two weeks since the departure of the team moms and Jessie was still grumpy and borderline hard to be around. It was nothing like her and it broke your heart to see her like that.

You had tried everything. Cooking and baking for her, holding her as she cried, putting on her favorite movies, buying her flowers but nothing worked. You hadn’t told Magda and Pernille about Jessie’s behaviour because you didn’t want to make them feel guilty.

"Hey Elysse," you said, holding up the phone to your face. "How is she? Bring her home, y/n/n," she said, looking sad. Elysse was Jessie’s favorite person in the world, tied with you of course.

"I will. Two days and you’ll be with her. I just don’t know what to do. She’s barely getting out of bed. It’s so not like her," you said. Elysse smiled sadly at the camera. "How much have you slept, y/n?" she asked as Logan showed up in the frame. "Like… 6 hours in the past three days or something. I just can’t sleep knowing she’s not doing well," you mumbled, crashing down onto the couch.

"Tell her how you feel."

Elysse’s words caught you off guard, and for a second you thought you miss heard her. "Go again?" you asked, sitting up a little. "Tell her how you-" Elysse went to repeat her words but you cut her off quickly. "Stop that. Stop it," you said quickly before lowering your voice. "You shouldn’t even know that. No one knows. No one," you said to her in a hushed voice. "I can tell when someone likes my sister," the younger girl said. "Well- maybe I will. Whatever. I’m gonna go pack our bags,"

Elysse bid her goodbyes and then you hung up, but you were quickly on the next call. You clicked on Millie’s contact and the phone rang for about ten seconds before she answered.

"You never ever call. What’s up?" she said before another voice chipped in. "Hey Canada!" a voice said. "Canada? Which one. Small or not so?" yet another voice.

"Oh sorry, you’re busy i’ll call someone else," you said. "No! No it’s just Rachel and Leah. What’s up?" Millie asked.

You quickly gave her a recap of current events with Jessie, closing your explanation with: "I think she needs a little tough love. Like motivational speech type of shit. But a little meaner because she needs to snap out of this," you said.

Millie thought for a second before answering. "Okay. I’ll come over but I need to bring dumb and dumber," she said. "HEY!" Leah yelled in the background of the call. "No problem,"

You hung up and tried to tidy the place quickly.

You then did what you had told Elysse you would do and got out two suitcases. You packed everything you would both need considering you were going to be Down Under in the summer and it would be crazy warm. Both suitcases were half packed by the time the doorbell rang. You stood up and quickly opened the door. "Mills thank you so much, I don’t know what to do. I just- she just sits there all sad and tired and I’m so-" you started ranting until Millie wrapped you into a tight hug. "Hey, breathe. It’s okay. I’ll go see her, just, go lie down on the couch," Millie said. "I’ll make tea," Rachel said after giving you a small hug. "Do you wanna talk?" Leah asked, gesturing to the couch. "Yeah. Yeah sit down. You don’t need that weight on your leg," you said, quickly heading to the couch. "First door to the left right?" Millie asked. "Yeah," you answered as you sat down on the couch. Leah sat beside you and too say the least it was a little awkward. You had never played with her, only against, and as you both captained your country now it was a tad strange. "Thank you for being here. I know it’s weird," you said, playing with your fingers. "Hey, the rivalry can be put aside for an hour or two," she said to you kindly. "You should use your crutches," you told her. "You should join Arsenal," she snapped back with a smile. "Hey! What about the rivalry being put aside?" you fake pouted. "Sorry sorry. It’s all out now," she laughed.

There was a little silence, filled with the sound of the kettle boiling. "So… how long have you liked her for?" she said.

"Jesus. Everyone’s asking me that. I- I don’t. I mean it’s-" you started saying. "Hey. I’ve been there. The childhood best friend who your biggest fear is too loose but you just can’t help having feelings for. That’s like- my life story. We’re the same, you know. We’re very similar. Fleming is your Nobbs," she said to you kindly. "Yeah, I noticed it too y/l/n. Mostly because in every single interview of you and her you’re giving her fuck me eyes. And the hand placement doesn’t go unnoticed by the way," Rachel said from the kitchen. "Why are you watching interviews of us weirdo," you answered, trying to ignore the fuck me eyes comments.

Rachel looked away, trying to think of an answering before caving. "Uhm- a few of us have like… a group chat where we send edits we find of you two. It’s funny! And it’s cute it’s just-" Rachel said quickly. "A group chat! Who’s on it?!" you said a little loudly. "Are you mad?" she asked, brining you tea. You didn’t even like tea but saying that in a room full of brit’s wasn’t a smart move. "No. No i’m not. It does seem funny yeah but who’s on it?" you asked again.

"Listen, I know you’re not on tik tok but a lot of us are and we… you know we connect. Women’s football is like one huge gay club and you two are a pretty big ship. So it’s like almost just brit’s so… me, Millie, Leah, Lucy, Keira, Georgia, Niahm. We just think it’s cute! Okay. Oh yeah and uh- Millie added Magda and Pernille," Rachel said.

"You guys are insane," you groaned. "We talk about other things too!" Leah said.

But your brain went back to Jessie quickly after, as it always does. You stood up and started walking towards the door. "What are you doing?" Leah asked, looking at you. "It’s been 10 minutes. If Millie hasn’t gotten through to her now she won’t at all," you answered.

As you went to open the door, it opened before you could. In the doorway stood Jessie and behind her, Millie. Jessie had a towel slung over her arms and her hair was tucked neatly behind her ears.

Your face softened immediately in a way that would be impossible not to notice. "Hey, Jess. You okay?" you asked, looking at her softly. "Yeah. Yeah I’m gonna- what are Leah Williamson and Rachel Daly doing in our living room?" she asked in confusion, smiling at them awkwardly. "Heyy…" Leah said, waving. "Ignore them," you said, moving aside to let Millie slip out of Jessie’s dark bedroom. "I’m gonna shower. And then we can start packing, okay?" she said to you.

You nodded quickly and maybe a little aggressively. "Yeah! Yes. For sure," you said to her. She smiled at you, love in your eyes that you couldn’t see was there before moving past you to go to the washroom.

Once she closed the door to the washroom, you rushed to Millie and basically jumped in her arms. "What did you say to her?" you asked, pulling away. "It’s not important, she’s okay," the defender answered. "I could give you a kiss right now. Thank you so much," you hugged her again and she smiled. "Save that for Fleming," she smiled. "Oh my god. I know about the group chat by the way. Not cool," you said to her, smacking her arm playfully. "I gotta go unpack me and Jess’ suitcases so you guys can go now. Unless you want to stay. "Why are you unpacking?" Leah asked. "I don’t want Jessie to feel about being down for so long. She processed how she needed too and I don’t want her to see that I had just resorted to doing her things for her. It’ll make her feel bad and I don’t want that," you smiled. "You’re whipped," Rachel said. "How could I not be?"

After thanking Leah, Rachel and Millie for the thousandth time, they left and you kept your promise of unpacking.

You were quick to put the clothes you had snuck out of Jessie's bedroom as she slept back into the drawers. However she was also quick to get out of the shower. She caught you as you walked outside of her bedroom, steam pouring out of the shower. "What are you doing?" she asked, sounding gentle for what could be interpreted as harsh words. "Sorry. I was just seeing if you had my... Canada hoodie. I can't find mine." you said to her quickly. "I think its in the wash," she said.

But you barely heard her words as her wet hair was dripping down her bare shoulders and her body was covered only by a towel. "Uh- yeah," you answered, looking back up at her face. "Sorry," you said quickly, walking past her and into your own room.

You packed your suitcase quickly, not forgetting anything as you were pretty used to packing by now. Getting ready to prepare some kind of meal, you went to the kitchen only to find the fridge completely empty. In between caring for Jessie, worrying about Jessie and thinking about Jessie, groceries had been the last thing on your mind. You hurriedly wrote a note with a pen stating that you would be back with tacos for supper as soon as possible, and then you left.

Jessie, however, was pacing her bedroom in complete worry. Her mind was trying to tell her not to tell you how she felt, but her heart, man her heart was yelling for you. So, she did the only thing she knew how to do. Ask her sister.

Jessie: Follow your heart or you mind?

Elysse: Heart.

So that was settled. Jessie opened the door and walked into the living room and kitchen area. "Y/n?" She called out your name, looking around before seeing the note.

Jessie sat on the couch for twenty en minutes before it started pouring rain outside. You were extremely environmentally friendly and so she knew off the bat that you were stuck in the rain as the taco place you refused to drive too was a thirty minute walk.

It was an extra 20 minutes until the door of your appartement opened. You stood there, soaked to the bone and teary eyed as you held the paper bag containing the tacos that was basically reduced to paper pulp. "I- It started raining and the tacos im pretty sure are soggy and everything’s going wrong and i’m so sorry I just- i’m tired i’m really tired-" your rant got cut off by Jessie hurrying up to you and putting her hands on both sides of your face. "Hey. Breathe. It’s okay. I don’t care about the tacos I just care about you, and you are gonna catch a cold," she said, moving her hands to put the paper bag on the counter.

"I know you like those tacos and-"

"I’m not gonna let you cry over tacos," Jessie said, brushing droplets of water off your face. "I’m not crying because of the tacos i’m crying because I feel like I let you down. I let you be sad and I didn’t do anything for over a week-"

But you were silenced quickly when Jessie’s lips hit yours. She didn’t give you much though. A close lipped kiss as her hands roamed your wet abs. And that was it. She pulled away, stopping herself but not stopping you from slipping your hands under the waistband of her sweatpants. "Go change," she said to you gently. "I don’t want to change I want you to kiss me and never stop," you answered, looking at her lips. "Change. I want to hug you and hold you but it’s gross when you’re all wet," she said. "I’m wet anyways," you said, jokingly winking at her and making her mouth drop as she let out a laugh. "You’re funny. Go!"

So that’s what you did. You spent the night on the couch in her arms, holding her, kissing her and rubbing her back, just happy to be with her. She would be okay without Magda and P. And so would you. Did it hurt? Yeah. Did it hurt less with her? Yep.

#woso fic #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso #chelsea fcw #jessie fleming #magda eriksson #millie bright #rachel daly

[scary-grace]

Love Like Ghosts (Chapter 9) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

You knew the empty house in a quiet neighborhood was too good to be true, but you were so desperate to get out of your tiny apartment that you didn't care, and now you find yourself sharing space with something inhuman and immensely powerful. As you struggle to coexist with a ghost whose intentions you're unsure of, you find yourself drawn unwillingly into the upside world of spirits and conjurers, and becoming part of a neighborhood whose existence depends on your house staying exactly as it is, forever. But ghosts can change, just like people can. And as your feelings and your ghost's become more complex and intertwined, everything else begins to crumble. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13

Chapter 9

There’s something wrong with your house, but you knew that when you bought it, and lately it feels like the thing that’s wrong with your house is you. You’re constantly uneasy, at work and at home, to the point where Phantom glues herself to your side and cries when you try to leave. Tomura hovers. You can tell he wants things from you – more touches, more kissing, more sex – but with half the neighborhood out hunting conjurers, the insect deliveries have mostly dried up. Most of the time, mustering up a voice and a set of hands is the most he can do.

The conjurer hunt is on. Keigo’s taking time off from work, and whatever Spinner and Jin usually do during the day, they’ve put it on hold. Every morning, you or Aizawa or Jin’s mom gives the three of them and Atsuhiro a ride to the train station, where they get on separate trains, each taking a different route to the same destination. They’re checking cities and towns off the list, one by one, starting close to home and working their way outwards. They get back later and later every day.

Jin’s mom doesn’t like it. Magne doesn’t like it. Dabi especially doesn’t like it, given the clouds of smoke that are constantly billowing from Keigo’s house, and eventually you and Hizashi are dispatched to deal with it. Hizashi’s there for the intimidation factor. You’re not sure why you’re involved. “You’re close with Keigo,” Hizashi says with a shrug, when you ask him. “Hard to tell, but Dabi’s not thrilled with how things have been going there lately. Knowing you and Keigo might talk about him might make him behave a little better.”

“Oh.”

“That’s the theory, anyway,” Hizashi says. He bangs on the door with a closed fist. “Open up, Toasty. We need to talk.”

“Fuck off.”

“No can do. You’re about to get the fire department called on you,” Hizashi says. “How are you going to explain that one to your human when he gets home?”

“Like I’d know. He’s never here.” Dabi’s face appears in the front window, and a moment later the door cracks open. “He saw his first chance to get away from me and bolted.”

You can’t stop the incredulous laugh that sneaks out of your mouth. “He’s out there hunting your conjurer. What about that says he’s trying to get away?”

“I didn’t ask him to do that.”

“No, he volunteered.” Hizashi leans hard against the door and shoves it open. “You’re acting even dumber than the guy across the street, and that’s really saying something.”

“Hey,” you say listlessly. “Don’t talk shit about my ghost. He came up with the plan.”

“The plan that might get my human killed,” Dabi says.

“The plan that might save your ass,” Hizashi corrects, flicking Dabi in the forehead and ignoring the smoke that starts to leak into the air. “Enough with this little fit you’re throwing. Things are this way with your human because you made them this way. Your human treats you different than she treats her ghost because of you. If you want any of that to change, you need to get it together.”

“I’m not embodying,” Dabi says. “You can’t make me.”

“You can do better even if you don’t embody yourself,” you say. Dabi makes a disparaging noise. “Not lighting the house on fire would be a good start.”

“Why do you do that, anyway?” Hizashi is fully inside Keigo’s house now, and even though you know it’s going to drive Tomura up the wall, you follow him in. “Oof, this place smells. Have you ever heard of air freshener?”

You survey the front room of Keigo’s house. It’s messy. There’s a basket of laundry sitting on the couch, unfolded but clean as evidenced by the used dryer sheet sticking out of a sock on top. While Hizashi continues to hold forth on the odor of the house, you investigate further, checking out the kitchen. It’s also messy. There are clean dishes in the dishwasher and dirty dishes in the sink, and based on the state of the stove, Keigo’s been living on instant noodles, frozen vegetables, and not much else. You think of the time you were sick, of Tomura’s clumsy but well-intentioned efforts to help, and feel an unexpected wave of sadness.

It crystallizes into resolve a moment later. You head back to the front room and target Dabi directly. “Get in here. You’re going to learn how to do the dishes.”

“What?”

Dabi sounds baffled, and Hizashi is hooting with laughter. You raise your voice to be heard over him. “You want things to be better with Keigo, you have to do stuff,” you say. “Just not burning down the house isn’t enough. You have to help out. Don’t just say you want things to change. Make them change.”

“Like a man,” Hizashi says, still cackling. “This is what real men do.”

Dabi looks skeptical. You weigh the risk of the statement you’re considering, then decide to hell with it. “Tomura knows how to do all this stuff already.”

It’s quiet for a second. “If your useless virgin of a ghost can do it, so can I,” Dabi states, which sets Hizashi off again. “Teach me how.”

You’re tempted to tell him that Tomura figured it out on his own, but you also don’t want Keigo to have to deal with some of the mistakes Tomura made. “Let’s start with the dishwasher.”

After the dishwasher, you go through proper dishwashing technique, stressing the importance of cleaning up whatever mess gets made in the process. “It’s not helping if there’s still a mess afterward,” Hizashi advices from the kitchen table, where he’s going through Keigo’s record collection. “Shou and me went through that with cleaning the litterbox. It was bad.”

Dabi bitches his way through the dishes, but you think he’s grasped the basics. After that, you move onto laundry – or rather, Hizashi moves on to laundry, because you get a brief flash of what Tomura will do when he finds out you’ve been touching Keigo’s and possibly Dabi’s underwear and decide you don’t want to deal with that. While they’re working on it, you head back across the street to retrieve a spare air freshener from your house. Tomura pounces on you the instant you step through the gate. “What are you doing over there?”

“Trying to teach Dabi some life skills so Keigo doesn’t have to live in a dungeon,” you say. Tomura’s more materialized than he’s been in a while, just slightly more than insubstantial as he tangles himself around you. “I should be done soon.”

“You’re not going back.”

“I’m going back,” you say.”

“No, you’re not!”

“I am, and here’s why. Keigo is my friend. He’s trying to help everybody. You don’t care about everybody, but I do, and I don’t think my friend should have to live in a house like that with a ghost that treats him that badly.” You dig up an air freshener, plus a scented candle, ignoring Tomura’s attempts to reel you back in. “The only reason Dabi’s going along with it is because I told him that you know how to do this stuff already.”

It’s quiet for a second. “He’s not better than me,” Tomura says.

“You’re better than him. Keigo and Hizashi didn’t have to come over here and teach you how to do the laundry.” You head for the door. “I’ll be back soon.”

Tomura entangles you again, because Tomura’s an asshole, but he lets you go before you reach the gate. When you get back to Keigo’s house, Dabi and Hizashi are there, with a pile of folded laundry between them and identical weird looks on their faces. “What did you say to him?” Dabi demands. “He’s so full of himself –”

“Yeah, I haven’t experienced this level of concentrated smugness in a while,” Hizashi notes. He gives his head a shake, then shrugs it off. “You got the goods?”

You hand off the air freshener and the candle. “Light this up and start praying. I’m not sure how much of a dent it will make, but it’s better than nothing.”

You’re not really sure how well your lessons and Hizashi’s have stuck, and you’re not sure how Keigo’s going to feel about the fact that you were both in his house, bullying his ghost. You don’t even have a chance to warn him, since you’re not the one picking he and the others up from the train station tonight, and you find yourself watching anxiously from your front window as Keigo trudges up the stairs and into his house. “What are you worried about?” Tomura asks. “You did him a favor. He should thank you.”

“I shouldn’t have gotten into their relationship like that.” The idea of someone trying something similar on you and Tomura makes you almost as uncomfortable as the idea of raising the topic of you and Tomura in a formal relationship. “He might be mad. I’d understand if he was mad.”

“He should be grateful,” Tomura says. Your phone buzzes in your pocket. “I’ll make him thank you if he doesn’t.”

It’s Keigo’s number. You gulp, unlock your phone, and start reading the texts.

Keigo: so uh

Keigo: hypothetically

Keigo: did you go to my house while I was gone and replace Dabi with Hizashi in disguise

Keigo: because like

Keigo: the laundry got folded

Keigo: the kitchen is clean

Keigo: when I got inside he stole all my clothes so he could put them in the washing machine

Keigo: nothing is on fire except a SCENTED CANDLE

Keigo: what did you DO

Tomura is reading over your shoulder, and as he reaches the end of the text string, he bursts out into raspy laughter. Something twists in your chest hard and painful enough to knock the air out of your lungs. You don’t think you’ve ever heard Tomura laugh before, and you’re almost angry with yourself for how much you like how it sounds. “What’s funny?”

“He stole his human’s clothes.” Tomura snickers. “If I tried that on you you’d leave and never come back.”

You’re temporarily frozen with horror at the thought, but you break out of it by force to text Keigo back. Sorry. Me and Hizashi went over there because the house was a little too on fire, and when we saw what a mess it was we decided to try to help out.

So you did it, Keigo texts back. He’s saying he did it.

We told him what to do, but he did most of it, you explain. Sorry.

Don’t be sorry. Just like – how? He never does this shit. I have to beg him not to cut my brake lines and burn down the house.

You’ve got theories, but nothing definitive, you glance at Tomura, wondering if he knows, but either he doesn’t or he’s not telling. I’m not sure, you text. He really stole your clothes?

Two seconds after I got inside. I barely shut the door in time. Keigo texts again while you’re trying not to have a thing over Tomura’s renewed laughter. I would have texted you about it sooner except I was naked and it would have been weird.

Now you’re laughing, but Tomura isn’t. “He owes you now. You should make him do something.”

“I’d say we’re even.” You laugh-react to Keigo’s text and put your phone away. “He and everybody else here helped me a lot when it came to you. I want to help them out, too.”

“Him telling you things isn’t the same as you dealing with his bastard scar wraith all day,” Tomura says. “You did more. He owes you.”

“That’s not how it works,” you say. “People help each other for a lot of reasons. It’s not usually just so the other person will owe them. Is that why you help me sometimes?”

You regret the question the instant you ask it – enough that you take it back, out loud. “Sorry. Don’t answer that.”

“I –”

“Don’t.” You know you’re not handling this well. You just don’t know what else to do.

Realizing that you’ve got feelings for Tomura has been a disaster on every possible level. You thought admitting it to yourself might make things easier, but instead it’s unlocked a whole new circle of hell – one where you want things from him that you’ve got no business wanting, things you know he can’t give you, things he wouldn’t give you in a million years. Not being able to touch him at all makes it worse. You’ve never thought of yourself as being touch-starved, but there’s not really another word for it. You miss the cold. You miss him. And it’s pathetic, so you do everything you can to not think about it. The last thing you want is for someone to ask.

But apparently you’re not hiding it as well as you think you are, because Mr. Yagi takes one look at you the next morning and motions you into his office. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” you say, but it comes out watery and awful. “I’m fine, sir. It’s just, uh –”

What should you say? That it’s the time of the month? If you say that, Mr. Yagi will run for the hills, and you shouldn’t lie to him. “It’s ghost stuff,” you say, and Mr. Yagi nods sagely. “Things in the neighborhood are – hard right now.”

“I have something that might help,” Mr. Yagi says encouragingly. “Izuku’s completed his review of the files you’ve collected, and he’s hoping to present his findings to you in person.”

“Oh,” you say. “Um, okay. I don’t know if the neighborhood –”

“You’ll come to our neighborhood,” Mr. Yagi says. You blink. “This evening, for dinner. Izuku will present his findings to you and you can eat a meal in a place that isn’t so obviously haunted. Inko tells me that constant observation wears on a person.”

You’re so used to it by this point that you barely notice. It’s the explanations that start to wear on you. Lately Tomura’s been interested in what you’re eating, and you’ve been stuck trying to describe taste to someone who can really only grasp texture. It would be nice to go one night without having to explain that lettuce tastes like green but salmon doesn’t taste like pink. Mr. Yagi raises his eyebrows. “Well?”

“Thank you, sir,” you say. “I’d like that.”

“Excellent!” Mr. Yagi beams at you. “You have my address from the office party two years ago, yes? We haven’t moved.”

“Um – you might need to send it again.” You have a bad habit of deleting your old texts.

Mr. Yagi sends you his address and you add it to his contact in your phone. And while you’re in your contacts, you realize that there’s a contact you’re missing – and a ghost who’s going to have questions when you don’t show up after work. You still haven’t gotten around to getting Tomura a phone, which means you’re going to need someone to go talk to him. Somebody he’s not going to try to kill. You’d send Spinner or Keigo, but they’re both on the mission, and introducing Hizashi into the equation is a recipe for disaster. If you ask Shinsou for help, Hizashi and Aizawa will murder you. That just leaves –

Wondering what in the hell you’re doing, you text Magne for the first time ever. Hi. Would you be okay letting Tomura borrow your phone for a second?

You’re not entirely sure what Magne does during the day. Whatever her job is, it’s remote work – but it must be a slow period, because she texts you back right away. What does he need it for?

I won’t be back until late and I need to let him know.

Magne sends you a truly bizarre collection of emojis. That’s so cute! What time should I bring it over?

Noon, you say. Thanks, Magne. I owe you one.

A little bird name Himiko tells me you have a Sephora credit card. I’ll be expecting a top-tier birthday gift.

The ghosts don’t have real birthdays, so they celebrate either the day they were summoned or the day they were embodied. You’re not sure which one Magne picked, but Spinner definitely knows. You’ll ask him. You got it.

Your lunch break starts at noon, and your phone rings from Magne’s number at approximately 12:02. “You’re on speaker,” Magne shouts at you. Then: “I’ve got your human on the phone! She wants to talk to you. Let me in the yard!”

“Just throw it,” Tomura shouts back.

“This is an iPhone! I’m not throwing it anywhere!”

“I don’t care what kind of phone it is. You’re not coming in my yard.”

“Tomura,” you call out, trying to simultaneously be loud and keep any of your coworkers from overhearing this nightmare, “go up to the fence and borrow the phone from Magne. And don’t run away with it. Otherwise I’m going to have to buy her the entire Sephora franchise for her birthday.”

Magne cackles at that, but when she speaks, she’s not talking to you. “There you are! It’s a shame you’ve been hiding in that house all this time. You’re much cuter when you’re – you know, all there.”

“I’m not cute,” Tomura says. You’re smiling to yourself for about three seconds before he speaks up again. “My human said I’m pretty.”

Based on the cacophony on the other end of the line, Magne’s phone mission picked up an audience. Or maybe she gave it an audience. You can hear Hizashi cackling like a goblin, Shinsou snorting with laughter, and some squeaky little Eri giggles, which would all be really funny if it was happening to anybody else. Tomura’s on the same page as you are about it. “Why are you laughing?”

“She’s not wrong,” Himiko says from somewhere in the offing. The whole neighborhood is there, apparently. “You’re really pretty, Tomura! It’s only funny because boys usually say that to girls, not the other way around.”

“Honestly, we should use it the other way around more often,” Hizashi says. He projects his voice at a volume that makes your ears start ringing through the phone. “I for one could stand to be called pretty at least four times a day.”

He’s speaking so loudly that Aizawa can probably hear him from their house at the top of the street. “Dad, that’s gross,” Shinsou complains.

“I think it’s nice,” Eri chimes in. “I like being pretty. My hair and my eyes look like Tomura’s, so Tomura must be pretty, too!”

“Okay,” you say loudly, trying to regain control of the situation, “my lunch break’s not forever, and I really do need to talk to Tomura, so –”

“Of course! Shoo, shoo!” Magne hopes into action. You’d better start saving for Magne’s birthday gift yesterday. “Here. The phone. I’ll be in my house. Just shout when you’re ready to give it back!”

“I’ll just throw it. That’s faster.”

“He won’t throw it,” you say. Magne makes some kind of agreeing sound and leaves. Tomura must have the phone now, but he’s not saying anything. “Are you there?”

“Am I supposed to say you’re pretty?”

You facepalm with the hand that’s not holding the phone. “No,” you say. “Not unless you think so. I said you were pretty because that’s what I think. And that’s not why I called you.”

“Why did you call me?”

You brace yourself. “I won’t be back until later tonight. Later than usual. I wanted to let you know.”

“Why?”

“I’m meeting someone who has information. About the second conjurer.”

“Who?” Tomura’s voice darkens so abruptly that a chill goes down your spine. “I don’t need you to tell me. I’ll find them. I’ll –”

“It’s my boss’s son. He’s fifteen. He’s been looking at the same documents I have, except he actually has time to read them.”

It’s quiet for a second. “You could have said it was a kid,” Tomura says reproachfully, and you almost laugh. “Your boss the ghost has a kid?”

“I don’t really know how that worked.” You don’t want to know, either, and you really don’t want Tomura asking questions about it, so you change the subject fast. “I’m going over there after work and I’ll be back when I can. Are you okay to feed Phantom, or should I ask someone to –”

“I’ll do it. She’s our dog.” Tomura cuts you off. “Don’t be stupid. And be careful.”

You’re tempted to point out that being careful is most likely rolled in with not being stupid, but you keep your mouth shut. A moment later Tomura speaks up again. “Come back fast. I miss you when you’re not here.”

“I will,” you say, trying not to implode. “I, um – I miss you too. Please don’t throw Magne’s phone.”

“Fine.” Tomura hangs up. You need to get Tomura a phone. You also need to teach Tomura phone etiquette, like not hanging up without saying goodbye. Except he said he missed you, which – what was that? Was it a guilt trip? Tomura’s never tried to guilt-trip you before, and he’s not subtle in general. If that’s what he was doing, you’d see it coming a mile away, which means that this wasn’t a guilt-trip. In fact, he took the news that you won’t be back until later fairly well. The weird feeling you’re getting is because it was a normal conversation. The kind of conversation you’d have with a boyfriend who wasn’t crazy. Most of your boyfriends have been crazy.

Tomura isn’t your boyfriend. You’re being weird. You text thank-you to Magne again, drop a line to Spinner to ask when Magne’s birthday is, and head back inside to grab your lunch. It’s a nice day. It might be nice to eat outside.

At least that’s what you think, until Nakayama drops down on the bench next to you. “Who was that on the phone?”

“None of your business.” You grit your teeth as Nakayama pops open a salad in an excruciatingly loud plastic clamshell package. “You were eavesdropping?”

“Nobody used to call you,” Nakayama says matter-of-factly. “Honestly, you seemed like the type who’d bang your boss.”

You almost choke on your sandwich. “But now Mr. Yagi seems kind of like your dad. Not in a daddy way, just a literal dad,” Nakayama continues. “So who was on the phone? Why do you miss them?”

“No one. Go away.”

“Is it your boyfriend?” Nakayama asks. “I’d say that to my boyfriend if he was clingy. Is your boyfriend clingy?”

“It’s not my boyfriend,” you say. You’re pretty sure your face is on fire. “Don’t you have anywhere else to be? I thought – uh, I thought you and Woods from the DA’s office were a thing.”

“We are. But he was being judgy about one of my cases, so I ditched him for today.” Nakayama crunches down on a bite of salad. “I’m surprised you knew that! You don’t usually care about office gossip.”

You don’t. But you’re desperate to get out of this conversation without having to think or talk any more about Tomura. “I pay attention, but I’m sort of behind, I think. Can you catch me up?”

Nakayama grins at you around a mouthful of lettuce. “I thought you’d never ask!”

Asking about gossip is going to be your new go-to for avoiding talking about your personal life with your coworkers. Nakayama talks straight through lunch, and afterwards you throw yourself into your work, doing everything you can to avoid thinking about Tomura and what Tomura said and what the actual hell is happening there. You end the day a half-day ahead of your inbox, and you duck out early, swinging by the store to pick up some flowers to bring as a gift for your hosts. And then you sneak into another store, to pick up something for someone else.

You’ve been to Mr. Yagi’s house before, but it was a while ago. The neighborhood you’re driving through feels mostly unfamiliar. The houses are medium-sized, but on big lots, and you know from your homebuying exploits that this much space costs a ridiculous amount of money. The land one of these houses is built on probably costs as much as your property and your house put together. The last time you were here, you remember thinking somewhat uncharitably that Mr. Yagi must have family money. You’re even more confused now that you know he’s a ghost.

Mr. Yagi’s house is yellow with green trim, bright and pretty. It feels friendly when you walk up the front steps, and the doorbell’s ring somehow sounds cheerful. Mr. Yagi opens the door, smiling. “Come in! What are these –”

“For you,” you say. Your parents might not have been very affectionate, but they made sure you had manners. Mr. Yagi accepts the flowers. “Thank you for hosting me.”

You take off your shoes and make your way into the house after Mr. Yagi. The rest of the house feels just as friendly as it looks. Whatever’s being cooked smells really good, and Mr. Yagi’s wife smiles at you though a cloud of steam when you approach to ask if you can help. “I have it under control. And I have my assistant,” she says, elbowing Mr. Yagi lightly. “Go out to the backyard, if you’d like. Izuku’s waiting.”

You make your way through the house and onto the back porch, which overlooks a garden about ten times as pretty as yours. You can’t help feeling a surge of envy, which is only partially helped by reminding yourself that this garden’s had a lot more time to grow than yours has, and that this family doesn’t have to worry about buying delicate or expensive plants for fear that a ghost will get impatient and kill them in order to materialize fully. The only shadow in the garden comes from a large, lush shrub with purple-green leaves that’s resisting every effort made by Mr. Yagi’s son to extract it from the ground.

You come closer. “Do you need help?”

“No,” Izuku says, out of breath. “I don’t want to chop it down, but it has to go. It’s invasive.”

“Oh,” you say. “Did you know that when you planted it?”

“We think it was mislabeled,” Izuku says. “Or I read the label wrong, or something. I don’t want to kill it, and I think I can get it out alive, but we can’t plant it anywhere else.”

Something occurs to you. “If I help you get it out alive, can I have it?”

“Dad said you have a garden, but why would you want – oh!” Izuku breaks off suddenly, grinning. “Based on the size of this bush and its relative age compared to the lifespan of similar plants, it contains about ten years of life energy! Ghosts usually burn through energy between forty-eight and fifty-five times faster than living things, depending on their power level, and Dad said your ghost is extremely strong, so if we assume a consumption rate of seventy times faster than a living thing and if you take this tree and he uses it, that should give him roughly two weeks of complete embodiment. Longer if he stays incorporeal sometimes.”

You can only stare at him. He keeps talking. “When Dad was still a ghost, he went through life-force really fast. Mom says he kept wanting to do things for her – like hold the door open, or pull out her chair so she could sit down, or carry her groceries. One time her car got stuck in the snow and he picked it up and carried it for her. Oh, I guess that’s another thing! If a ghost is exceeding the physical abilities of their embodied form, the consumption rate doubles. What kind of things does your ghost like to do?”

“I have a dog and they like to play together,” you say. There’s no way you’re bringing up the rest of it with a fifteen-year-old. “How did you find out about all this stuff? Is there an equation or something?”

“Sort of! I can show you if you want. Of course, it’ll be approximate, since there’s not a great way to measure power levels and you kind of just have to vibe it, but it should tell you about how much complete materialization time you’ll get. What kind of things does your ghost usually drain?”

“Small plants. Weeds or mushrooms, and sometimes blackberry bushes,” you say. “And the people in the neighborhood bring us bugs for him to use.”

“He must be conserving power really well if he can get complete materialization from insects,” Izuku says excitedly. “Do you think there’s any way I could meet him? I haven’t met a real ghost in ages, and one that powerful –”

“Izuku,” Mr. Yagi says warningly from the porch. “That ghost isn’t safe for most people to interact with. And his reaction to you would be difficult to predict.”

“He’d know I’m not a threat. He could read it off my aura,” Izuku says. He looks at you and explains before you can ask. “I’m half-ghost. Mom got pregnant with me before Dad embodied himself full-time.”

Your first thought, as incredibly stupid as it is, is that you might need your box of condoms after all. Your second thought is that you really didn’t need to know that much about your boss’s sex life. Then you remember that Mr. Yagi can see Tomura’s marks on you and decide that it’s even. “Um, what does that mean? Being half-ghost.”

“Like being an embodied ghost, but I didn’t have to drain anybody,” Izuku says. “I can see other ghosts, and feel what they feel. I need to blink, but my eyes still do the thing Dad’s eyes do, so I have to wear contacts. And sometimes when I dream I can see into the world between.”

You sit there with that for a moment. Izuku looks to Mr. Yagi. “Once I get the butterfly bush out, she’s going to take it home so her ghost can use it. Did you know he’s only been using bugs?”

“I didn’t,” Mr. Yagi says. He glances at you, and you will your face not to flush. “We’ll all work together to dig up the bush after dinner. It’s time to wash up.”

You follow Mr. Yagi and Izuku into the house, feeling like you handled things well. It’s not until you’re washing your hands that it occurs to you that Izuku, who’s half ghost, can almost certainly see Tomura’s goddamn handprints all over you. It takes you way too long to muster up the courage to do anything but bolt directly out the door and drive until you run out of gas. But you make it out to the table and sit down, avoiding everyone’s eyes. You’re sitting with two ghosts. They can see the handprints. They know. You’re screwed. There’s no way they’ll let you have the butterfly bush now.

Mr. Yagi’s wife reaches across the table and pats your arm. “It’s all right,” she says, and you look up to find her smiling. “I’ve got them, too.”

You can’t see handprints on her, but she must have them, if she was involved with Mr. Yagi before he was embodied. You’ve never met anybody other than Keigo who was involved with their ghost when it was still a ghost, and you feel yourself relax a bit, just like you do when you and Keigo hang out. You manage a smile in response, then pick up your utensils and start eating. The food tastes really good. And it’s nice to know that you’re not going to have to spend twenty minutes explaining why cheese comes in different shapes, colors, and sizes without becoming something other than cheese.

You have to explain other stuff, though. Izuku has questions. “How many ghosts are in your neighborhood? Are they all adults or are some of them kids? Was your house built before the rest of the neighborhood or is it just the only house with a ghost in it?” He uses the pause provided by your answers to inhale half the food on his plate, then jumps back into the breach with even more questions. “Dad said there was a scar wraith. Have you met him? Scar wraiths are technically half-embodied ghosts, right? How many of his powers does he still have? Which of the former ghosts on your street is the most powerful? Do you think my dad could beat Magne or Atsuhiro or Hizashi in a fight?”

Mr. Yagi chokes on a sip of water. “I won’t be fighting any ghosts in that neighborhood. My ghost-fighting days are long over.”

“You used to fight ghosts?” you ask.

“Yes,” Mr. Yagi says. “That’s what I was summoned for.”

You want to ask. You really, really want to ask, but you don’t want to pry. Mr. Yagi’s wife finally elbows him. “Just tell her, Toshi.”

Mr. Yagi sighs. “When we first spoke of this, I mentioned that some conjurers don’t bind ghosts. Rather, they form mutually beneficial alliances – sometime simply to extend their lives, sometimes in an effort to do good. The conjurer who summoned me was named Shimura Nana. She hoped to do good, and I wanted to help her. Together we pursued evil conjurers and unquiet ghosts, ending their reigns of terror wherever we could.”

He glances guiltily at you. “I believe we once crossed paths with Hizashi, from your neighborhood. My master judged there to be greater threats than him.”

Hizashi wouldn’t like hearing that. Maybe you’ll tell him the next time he tries to scare you for kicks. But there’s a different question you’re considering. “How do you kill a ghost?”

“We’ll get to that,” Mr. Yagi says. “In any case, as the years passed, my master and I came into contact with the same conjurer over and over again. He was interested not in short-term havoc, but in long-term destruction, and he chose his ghosts accordingly. Many of the worst ghosts my master and I faced had been captured by him – taken as children, isolated for decades, their power growing unchecked until it outgrew the haunt containing it.”

Unease twists in the pit of your stomach. You’ve heard a story like that before. The one you were told was about Eri, but when you consider the details – the length of time, the complete isolation – it sounds like someone else, too. “These ghosts had no chance to make a bargain with their conjurer,” Mr. Yagi continues. “It was likely never explained to them why they had been imprisoned in this world. Many ghosts are curious about the human world, initially, and form opinions once they’ve been allowed to explore and interact with it. By the time this conjurer’s ghosts are allowed to interact with the world, they’ve grown to despise it as a prison. They destroy everything in their path, until they’re stopped.”

“Dad stopped a lot of them,” Izuku says.

“His master called it merciful,” Mr. Yagi’s wife – she’s told you to call her Inko – says. She looks troubled. “I don’t know about that.”

“There aren’t any left in the country. My master and I made sure.” Mr. Yagi folds and unfolds his napkin. “Ghosts may not approach the world with the same view of mortality as humans do, but it still takes time to create such a violent, hateful ghost. We were certain we’d found them all. And then –”

Suddenly you’re certain you know what he’s going to say. “You found my house.”

“It has every hallmark of our enemy’s work,” Mr. Yagi says. “An immensely powerful ghost, firmly entrenched in a house that can barely contain it. How long has he inhabited that house?”

“A hundred and ten years.”

“That fits!” Izuku says excitedly. He gets up from the table and bolts down the hallway, coming back a moment later pushing a wheeled whiteboard that you’re pretty sure disappeared from the conference room at work. “So! Thanks to the map Mr. Aizawa made, and the list of identities you found, I’ve been able to track where this conjurer’s been over the last two hundred years. A lot of the haunts have been destroyed, but nothing gets built there again, so they’re easy to find. The conjurer starts out way to the north, two hundred years ago. He binds a ghost to an old temple, and sixty years later, the ghost breaks out. Did you get that one, Dad? Do you remember?”

Mr Yagi nods. “Okay,” Izuku says. “Seven years later, he’s right here. Just a little ways south. This time the ghost is in an abandoned palace. That one only lasts twenty years before the haunt gets destroyed, and Dad gets that one, too. Seven years after that, the conjurer goes big and summons a ghost to haunt this entire mountain range by binding different parts of it into different caves and cabins –”

It would take an idiot not to see the pattern that’s emerging. The conjurer moves steadily south, spending seven years in each location – no more, and no less. In each location he leaves behind a haunted house with a lonely ghost, a ticking time bomb that won’t go off until long after everyone’s forgotten it was there. When he reaches the border, he turns around and heads north again, still spending seven years in each location. “Why seven years?” you ask. “If he’s worried about being caught, shouldn’t he switch it up?”

“Summoning and binding ghosts take time,” Inko says. “If it’s not done well, the ghosts can get out. And this conjurer doesn’t want his ghosts to get out.”

Yeah, no kidding – if they can get out, they won’t go crazy like he wants them to. Izuku keeps going over the map, seven years and a few miles at a time. Then he stops. “Here there’s a big gap,” he says. “In distance and in time. He doesn’t show up again until fourteen years later, and he’s way too far north. Plus, his name is wrong. You were right about how he steals names from people he knew in his previous identity to build the new one, but his name in the new town isn’t related at all to the last one.”

“It’s an insult to my master,” Mr. Yagi says. The scowl on his face is way too scary for your liking. “Shimura Tenko.”

You remember that name from the files. “So what happened? Did he just take a break?”

“After ninety years of doing the same thing? No way,” Izuku says. He opens his mouth, closes it, and turns to Inko. “Mom spotted it. Mom should say.”

Inko smiles at him, then turns to face you. “Look at the space that’s missing,” she says quietly. “There should be a haunt somewhere here.”

You look at the spot she’s circling on the map and your heart sinks. “We’re not the only city around here,” you say hopelessly. “It could be any of those –”

“We checked. There isn’t.” Izuku is bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. “The guy my dad fought is the same guy who summoned your ghost. And it took him a while. Either your ghost really fought or really tried to escape, because the conjurer never spent more than seven years anywhere else. He spent fourteen years here.”

Your heart is racing. You look to Mr. Yagi. “How did you and your master not find him?”

“There was nothing to find,” Mr. Yagi says. “Every other haunt became a place of violence and terror, the instant the ghosts began to attain their full power. There were incidents, accidents, mysterious deaths – things that signal the presence of a ghost. There was no such thing in your house.”

No, there wasn’t. You checked. If there had been any sign of trouble, you wouldn’t have bought it. “What I don’t understand,” Inko says, “is why your ghost didn’t turn out like the others. From what Toshinori says, your ghost radiates malevolence to such a degree that no one’s stayed long inside the house. The isolation is what’s supposed to drive them crazy, and that would make him more isolated, not less.”

“That’s a weird move for a ghost with a lot of power,” Izuku agrees. “Especially given what all the other ones did. Obviously ghosts have different temperaments, like people do, but if all the others destroyed their haunts and he didn’t –”

He trails off, and Inko doesn’t try to fill the gap. They’re both looking at Mr. Yagi, so you look at him, too. It’s a while before he speaks, and when he does, he’s avoiding your eyes. “Initially, Tomura wouldn’t have had sufficient power to harm anyone. Once he did, it seems he made a conscious decision to use his powers to deepen his own isolation rather than wield them against others. He’s undeniably malevolent, but not particularly hostile. As far as any of us can tell, he’s never attempted to break out of his haunt, much less wreak the kind of destruction one might expect from a ghost in his position. In the eyes of his conjurer, he represents a failure.”

Even though failing at this is exactly what you should want for Tomura, you still don’t like hearing people talk about him that way. “What does that mean?”

“It means that Tomura’s conjurer is likely to return at some point,” Mr. Yagi says, “and attempt to turn Tomura into the symbol of terror he was meant to be. My understanding of Tomura is limited, but based on the available evidence –”

He gestures awkwardly at you. “The fastest way for his conjurer to do that would be to remove you from the picture.”

“Wouldn’t Tomura just kill him?” Izuku asks. “I mean – if someone hurt me or Mom, that’s what you’d do, right?”

“Yes,” Mr. Yagi says, “but this conjurer is too cunning to make it easy. He’d likely kill her far from the neighborhood, which would force Tomura to destroy his haunt to pursue him. Tomura would likely leave immense destruction in his wake as he chased the conjurer. Which is what the conjurer wanted him to do all along.”

You feel like you’re going to be sick. You imagine the house blowing apart from the inside, just like the fence did; or worse, you imagine it crumbling, falling apart in a wave of dust that billows out, consuming everything in its path. He already looks down on the neighborhood. If he found any way to blame them for your death, he’d wipe them off the map. And then he’d move on to everything else.

No. Tomura wouldn’t do something that crazy just for you. You’re out of your mind. “I’m not that important to him,” you say. “I’m not – he’d kill the conjurer to punish him, maybe. He wouldn’t go on a rampage. Why would you say that?”

Mr. Yagi doesn’t answer. He looks uncomfortable. “Even if he succeeded in killing the conjurer, it wouldn’t bring you back,” Inko says softly. “He’d still be loose in the world, still angry, still destructive, with no one to aim his anger towards. Haven’t you ever been so angry that you didn’t care who you hurt?”

You have. You don’t want to admit it, but you have. “So have I,” Inko says, which is hard to imagine. “But you and I are human, with societal expectations that make it unlikely that we’ll act on those feelings. Ghosts don’t have that. They follow their feelings. They don’t see consequences until it’s too late.”

“You’re wrong,” you say. Your jaw is clenched, your hands curled into fists out of sight. “I believe you about all of this – who his conjurer is, and why it happened, and all of that. But you’re wrong about what will happen if his conjurer kills me. He doesn’t care enough about me for the rest of it.”

You see Mr. Yagi and Inko trade a glance. Izuku is staring, too, waiting to be let in on the secret. “Perhaps we’re wrong,” Mr. Yagi says. “Even so, no one wants you to be hurt. With that in mind, we have a gift for you.”

“Toshinori’s master made these for me, back when Toshi was still a ghost,” Inko says. She pulls back her sleeves, revealing narrow bracelets on each wrist. “They hide the traces of ghostly power. When Toshi and I met, he and his master were still battling the conjurer. Wearing these kept me from being noticed and used against him.”

You hadn’t known that. Now you understand why Mr. Yagi is so certain about what Tomura will do if you’re killed – it’s what he would have done, or wanted to do, if he’d lost Inko. “My power’s faded enough that it’s almost undetectable,” Mr. Yagi says. “My master would be pleased if the bracelets went to someone who needed them.”

You argue. Of course you argue. A lot, in no small part because going to Mr. Yagi’s house for dinner and coming back with his wife’s jewelry on is going to convince everybody at the office that you’re sleeping with him. Once you lose that part of the argument, you switch tactics to arguing that something that fits Inko’s wrists is going to be too small for yours, only for Inko to tell you, completely straightfaced, that the bracelets are magic and can grow or shrink to fit whoever needs to wear them. You sit there with that for a moment, chagrined, before she bursts out laughing and tells you to try them on first. You do. They fit perfectly. Maybe they’re magic after all.

You help Inko with the dishes while Izuku piles up paper after paper after paper on the counter for you to take home and review, including a list of six possible names Tomura’s conjurer could be going by at this very moment. Then all of you head to the backyard to extract the butterfly bush. It’s a four-person job for sure. You have no idea how Izuku thought he was going to do it himself.

Inko insists you go home with leftovers, then sends you home with more food than you can carry. You thank her and Mr. Yagi and Izuku with a little more emotion than you usually display – for the food, and for their help. “I’ll bring this back to the neighborhood,” you say. “It’ll clear things up. Now we have a better idea of what to watch out for.”

“If you need assistance at any point, let me know,” Mr.  Yagi says. “I do have some experience in this regard.”

“I will,” you say. “I’ll see you at work, sir.”

You’re still feeling too many things as you drive home, the still-living butterfly bush taking up the entire backseat of your car and enough food for two nights of dinners in the passenger seat. It takes you a while to name the feeling as hurt – hurt for a lot of reasons that have nothing to do with the absurd kindness Mr. Yagi and his family showed to you. It’s an old hurt, one you’ve lived with for a long time; the feeling of observing a happy family and realizing all over again how empty your childhood was. But now there’s a new kind of hurt added to the pile. Not the hurt of wanting something you didn’t have, but wanting something you won’t get.

Inko was you, once upon a time. Human, in love with a ghost, in the line of fire. But it worked out for her. She’s happy. She has a son and a husband who loves her and a garden whose biggest problem is an invasive plant her son accidentally planted in it. That’s never going to be you.

Even if you wanted that, and you’re not at all sure you do, knowing you can’t have it makes you sad. You drive the rest of the way home with a weird lump in your throat, trying to clear it before you get home. You can’t explain this to Tomura. He won’t understand.

The mood sticks with you all the way home, but when you pull into your neighborhood, you feel it inexplicably lift. It’s just past sundown. Hizashi and Shinsou are in their garden, laughing about a misshapen eggplant they’ve been growing. Himiko is on the front porch of her house, painting Jin’s nails, while their siblings scribble profanity they probably learned from Spinner onto the sidewalk in chalk. Spinner and Keigo are hanging out in front of Spinner’s house, talking something over with Magne. And your front lawn might be dead as a doornail, but all the lights are on inside your house.

You park in the driveway and start ferrying things up to the house. The door swings open before you can even think of unlocking it, and Phantom races to greet you, barking and whining until you set the leftovers on the porch swing and crouch down to greet her. She licks your face, slurping the way she does when you’ve been sweating or crying. This time it was the latter.

When you turn to retrieve the leftovers, they’re gone. Inside the house, you hear the refrigerator open and shut. “I can carry that stuff,” you say to Tomura. “Don’t burn through too much energy.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Tomura’s down to a pair of hands as he drifts onto the porch, hands that seize your wrists and refuse to let go. “What are these?”

“I’ll explain,” you say. “I still have stuff to bring in.”

You bring in your purchase from the other store, knowing Tomura won’t look inside it unless you give him a reason to be suspicious, then devote your attention to wrestling the butterfly bush out of the backseat. Tomura eyes it suspiciously. “Where are you going to put that?”

You stop just before you remove it. You know from experience that once something leaves the car in the driveway, it’s fair game. “My boss and his family gave it to me,” you say. Tomura’s suspicious expression cranks up a notch. “It’s for you.”

Tomura blinks. “I’m going to bring it in. Don’t touch it yet,” you say. “I need to talk to you first.”

Tomura waits as you drag the butterfly bush in its pot into the yard, then up onto the porch, then through the door. He keeps quiet until after you’ve shut the door. “Can I have it now?”

“No,” you say. You’ve got a not-insignificant suspicion that Tomura is going to jump you the instant he’s fully materialized, and you don’t want to try to have this conversation while he’s trying to make out with you. But now he’s waiting, clearly impatient, and all at once you forget what you were planning to say. “Um –”

“Did they give you that tree just because they had it?”

“No,” you say, startled. “I asked if I could have it. I wanted to see you. My boss’s son, he said you could probably get two weeks of full materialization out of it, but I think there’s a good chance he underestimated your power level, and –”

The butterfly bush crumbles to ash so quickly it’s hard to imagine it was there in the first place. Tomura’s feet hit the floor, and a moment later, he jumps you. Literally jumps you – he’s taller than you are, but he tangles himself around you until both his feet are off the ground. He’s solid, and heavy, and you’re not at all prepared to take the weight of a fully embodied ghost. You collapse backwards, barely managing to tuck your chin and avoid smacking the back of your skull against the floor. Tomura takes the change from vertical to horizontal completely in stride. Whatever he’s planning, it’s not impeded by the fact that Phantom is racing in excited circles around the two of you.

You’re worried he’s going to kiss you, or go after your clothes the way Dabi’s apparently made a habit of doing to Keigo. Instead Tomura stretches out on top of you, apparently unconcerned with where his elbows and knees are going, and buries his head in your shoulder. Or your neck. He can’t seem to decide which one he prefers.

You put up with a few seconds of ghost cuddling before you ask. “Tomura, what are you doing?”

“Saw it in a movie.” A puff of cold air hits the side of your neck. “Wanted to try.”

“In this movie you saw, were they on the floor?” you ask, exasperated. “If we’re going to keep this up, we’re moving it to the couch.”

“I don’t want to move.”

“Tough luck. I don’t want to cuddle with you on the floor.” You roll him off of you, get to your feet, and book it to the living room, flopping down on the couch a split second before Tomura flops down on you. “Here’s fine, though.”

Tomura gets comfortable again, complaining under his breath, but once he’s settled, he goes quiet and still. “You’re like a weighted blanket,” you say nonsensically. “I didn’t think this was going to be the first thing you did.”

“I want that later. I want this now.” Tomura goes quiet again for a few moments. “Those things your boss gave you are strong. I didn’t see you until you were here. Why do you have them?”

It occurs to you why Tomura might be concerned. “They’re for hiding me when I’m out there. From other ghosts. Or conjurers.”

“You went there to find out about conjurers,” Tomura says. You’re surprised he remembered that. Or surprised he asked about it. Or both. “Did you?”

“About one of them,” you say. “The last name on Aizawa’s list. My boss thinks, um – he thinks that one might be yours.”

“Mine,” Tomura repeats. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” you say. You don’t want to get into the rest of it – the conjurer’s MO, whatever made Tomura different, what Mr. Yagi’s afraid will happen if – when – you die. Not when it’s calm like this. Not when you feel like you’re breathing for the first time in weeks, in spite of the fact that you’re currently being flattened by a ghost. “But my boss and his wife met when he was still a ghost. Someone made the bracelets so other ghosts and conjurers couldn’t find her.”

“Why would they care about someone else’s human?” Tomura sounds like the concept’s never occurred to him. “Just get your own.”

You knew you were right about this. You tell yourself that being right is a relief. “My boss loves his wife. He loved her even when he was a ghost. The best way for somebody to hurt him was to hurt her, and somebody really wanted to hurt him. So she wore these. To be safe. And now his powers have faded, so she gave them to me.”

It’s quiet again. “I don’t like that I can’t see you,” Tomura says.

“I’ll take them off once I’m in the neighborhood,” you say. “So you’ll know I’m there.”

Tomura makes an indistinct sound you can probably read as agreement and makes himself comfortable again. When it becomes clear that he’s not moving any time soon, you wrap your arms loosely around him. Tomura makes another indistinct sound. “What are you doing?”

“Holding you,” you say. “People do that.”

“Weird.” Tomura doesn’t stir. After a few minutes of lying there, one of your hands resting between his shoulder blades and one on the small of his back, you cautiously sneak one hand up to fiddle with the ends of his hair.

It’s tangled. There’s only so much you can do one-handed, but you get to work anyway, strangely comforted by the texture of it between your fingers. Tomura lifts his head slightly when you tug at one of the tougher knots. “Why are you doing that? It’s just going to get tangled again the next time I dematerialize.”

“I can fix it next time, too.” Maybe with a brush. “Do you care?”

“No.” Tomura answers fast. “It’s – nice. A lot of it is nice.”

You wonder what ‘it’ is in this case. Being corporeal? Being in physical contact with you? The physical contact you’re initiating? It doesn’t really matter. It’s all physical sensation to him, some good and some bad, and you’re the person who provides it. Tomura doesn’t care about you beyond that. It makes sense that he wouldn’t worry about you the way Mr. Yagi worries about Inko. The way any other ghost in the neighborhood worries about their human.

You’re not upset about it. You’ll take what you can get. And if what you can get is a few minutes cuddling on the couch before your ghost decides he’d rather make out, that’s still more than you expected when you came home tonight.

#lovhalloweenhorror #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #reader insert #x reader #shigaraki tomura #ghost story #loser nerd ghost boyfriend

[workingchemistry]

After rambling paragraphs in your comment section I have come on Tumblr to write more lmao. Seriously I wrote 4 journal pages of thoughts about your au it's very good!

Ok so first, I love how the fight dynamic is: jump Fox when he is being stupid -> 17 breaks up fight -> profit. Except now everything's all wrong so they had to call 17 over to fix things in post. Just hilarious and good continuity.

Your manipulative Fox is excellent show don't tell. It's honestly really hard to write a smart dude without being basically psychic or actually failing a lot. So like even though a lot of people love manipulative Fox it's hard to show in such a low stakes fashion. Usually wr just see him blackmailing people or otherwise winning instead of slowing gathering intel and influencing someone. The pacing and POV just makes it work.

Ace!Fox and Allo!Bly solidarity is hilarious. It cracks me up that the Kaminoans somehow didn't realize that most of the clones are ace spectrum. Like i question if the whole defective CT for CC batches worked even once as intended when every CC is only interested in adoption. "Natborns are obsessed with sex" indeed. Fox knows what's up.

Fox being more genuine with Bly and 17 and even Laruk was adorable. Especially with 17 where we got to realize that all the cadet style military discipline is affectionate with 17. Feral!Fox and his barely older dad my beloved.

I love how the deterministic gene editing totally matters but also doesn't matter much at all. Like all it really did is make a hierarchical family dynamic. Alphas will absolutely parent solo because they are competitive. CCs are big on being at the middle level of parenting and ori'vod-ing because they are only as competitive (for affection) as necessary to get the primary position in a cuddle pile. CTs are totally comfy with looking after younger siblings while still being looked after by the CCs. Ultimately they are all chomping at the bit to create a found family irrespective of genes.

Satine and Fox are so interesting because Satine cares that he is bleeding because of her principles not because she is being kind. Fox likewise pretends to be nice constantly so that she doesn't die on his watch and he gets blamed. Like him expressing understanding over natborn women being uncomfortable with men is just so he can do his job. He gets it but he doesn't really care about a stranger's hypothetical trauma.

Caring about your appearance is absolutely not a baseline experience for clones. Choosing to deviate from regulation at all is a huge expression of individuality even if you still present as a man.

Also like, Satine they are not soldiers by choice. Why would they have a culture that values violence above all else when they don't choose that life. As Fox was explaining in the creche, violence between vode is about love and survival, bot bloodthirsty bloodthirstyness or glory.

Also yeah, Satine will be totally offended by Fox's philosophy on death and murder. "The only deaths I care about are my brothers and they die all the time. If the purge was real I would fix the overcrowding in the senate dome no problem."

lol. They had a Method. It’s always a struggle when your younger brother is both smarter and dumber than you are. Usually beating him up and getting lecture by the only person he listens to is effective but then they tried to beat him up without Seventeen being there and it just didn’t work as well.

Ahh. Thank you. 😭 Fox is so fun as an unreliable narrator because he’s being purposeful about what he tells people when and even what he lets himself thing about but it makes me so nervous that I’m showing too much of my hand lol.

😂😂 I’m just too obsessed with the idea of the clones being ace mostly because I’m ace and so I love the idea of a culture where being allo is met with confusion. I don’t think the Kaminoans thought about sex drive at all until the trainer pops up saying it’s a problem. They give the CCs a CT and they seem more pliable so I guess it must have worked. Meanwhile the CCs are losing their minds over having a new tubie to take care of and mother hen. The CTs on the other hand are dubious but willing to be babied bc they’ve gone from living under the threat of decom to being protected by the most feral clones they’ve ever met. 😂

Seventeen acts a lot more aggressive than he really is. He’s not against thrashing his kids to make them behave but he always does it with affection. I just love to think about like Kenobi and company realizing their commanders and troopers are actually the semi domesticated version when they start digging into things and see the kinda shit that Fox and the Corries pull off unsupervised.

That is such a perfect description. 😭 the Aureks are extremely possessive and don’t really trust each other while the CCs don’t really trust outsiders. The CTs on the other hand are comparatively easy going despite what natborns think. They see these men doing crazy things on the battle and think they’re insane but actually CTs are very affectionate and willing to adopt everyone into their found families. They’re just also more willing to listen to a no. Aureks Will Forcibly adopt anyone from the younger series and CCs will latch onto anyone and dig their teeth in until they’ve subdued their targets.

Satine is so much fun to play against Fox because they’re kind of the same subset of person but with different ideals. They both come across as very helpful and caring and it’s not that they aren’t but they aren’t altruistic—even though Satine values altruism, everything she does is to further her ideals and people so it’s not actually good for good’s sake. Satine cares about Fox’s wellbeing because she feels responsible for him and Fox cares about Satine’s wellbeing because he is responsible for her. She wouldn’t be more sad about him dying than she would any rando and he would say good riddance to her if his family could get away with it.

The clones in other battalions get to play around with their appearance at least, but Fox can’t let his Corries even do that. Too much hinges on them being interchangeable. Those with identifying scars get pulled off of Senate duty and when he got his facial scar he had a whole breakdown because it meant he couldn’t step in and pretend to the others anymore. So that means what little individuality he can give to them is extremely precious and if that’s just which pronouns and names being used, he will fight for them. If they are already too identifiable with scars, he lets them grow out their hair and dye it as long as they leave enough undyed roots so it can be shaved off in an emergency. Makeup and nail polish and accessories are shared freely and used by everyone regardless of gender identity within the barracks.

The love/violence and inaction/hate culture clash is so fun to me. Like hurting your brother so that the trainer doesn’t do it is love as far as the vode are concerned. Standing aside and not correcting a mistake is setting your brother up for a decom. Satine’s preconceived notions about war and the reasons natborns fight doesn’t fit when these are just men who aren’t allowed to anything else. Like sure they enjoy killing sometimes. They enjoy getting a job done and they’re desensitized to murder. It has nothing to do with the actual killing. Later this will be highlightened when we get to see Fox doing the bare minimum to protect a natborn compared to Rex, Cody, Wolffe, and Bly all nearly killing themselves to protect their generals. Inaction vs action is a huge thing for them. Fox quite quit his job years ago. He’s just keeping his men alive at this point. Fuck everyone else.

Fox really said if the terrorists wanted to be harder to catch that would be great actually. Oh no he’s accidentally dropping the plans to the senate dome. If he could guarantee that no one would be alive to retaliate afterwards, he’d commit a murder spree, take his troopers, and book it out of there.

#commander fox #duchess satine

[kolbisneat]

MONTHLY MEDIA: March 2023

It’s getting nicer out but I’m still spending plenty of time indoors watching and reading things, don’t you worry.

……….FILM……….

Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018) It’s been years since I’ve gone back to this and it really is one of the best superhero movies ever made, right? I hope the next one succeeds and it leads to more animated features. It just...you can do so much more. Sure the live-action superhero movies have a lot of animation but they’re bound by our physics and the uncanny valley and it’s just not the same.

……….TELEVISION……….

Ted Lasso (Episode 3.01 to 3.03) Glad to be back. It’s been interesting seeing the online rise, then fall, then rise again of support for this show but honestly, who cares? Do you like watching it? Great. Do I like watching it? Absolutely. It’s a project that was planned from season 1 and it shows and I wish more media was approached in this way.

Spy x Family (Episode 1.08 to 1.25) Okay needed to shift my expectations with this one. I really thought we’d get more of Yor and her assassin life. She’s kinda just a background character to Loid and Anya and that feels like a missed opportunity.

The Great (Episode 2.09 to 2.10) Great cap to the season. Full arcs for characters, a satisfying resolution and yet still enough of a hook to get me excited for the third season. Just some gorgeous, funny, dramatic television. Big fan.

……….YOUTUBE……….

Why everything you buy is worse now and How America’s richest donate their money by Vox Okay the first one really helped explain why stuff seems to be lower quality and it’s not just “better back in my day” sorta stuff. It’s just chasing that elusive profit, you know? And seeing the stats on how the wealthy donate was eye-opening. Taxes seem good. VIDEO (Worse Now) VIDEO (Richest Donations)

AI and Image Generation (Everything is a Remix Part 4) by Kirby Ferguson I’ve always appreciated the Everything is a Remix series and this only reinforces that. A measured response to AI image generation and what that means, why it’s flawed, and what happens next. VIDEO THE FULL PROJECT

What Does Glass Onion Have to Do with US? by Vivian Strange Okay a lengthy one but worth it. A new perspective on Glass Onion, a refresher on why I really liked US, and a really great connection between the two. Also a really great breakdown of the murder mystery as a genre as well and why it’s having a resurgence. All around great stuff. VIDEO

……….READING……….

Arabian Nights (Companion Library Edition) (Page 124 of 244) Thrifted this and for some reason never knew it was a collection of short stories? Which seems obvious now. Anyway I’m sooooo slow at really short story collections but they’ve been interesting to read. Something about the translation feels like a slog to actually read but the stories included are a lot of fun. 

Wonderland Revisited and the Games Alice Played There by Keith Sheppard (Complete) I’m super picky when it comes to adaptations of Carroll’s works. Many take Wonderland and make it dark, twisted, and mature (meh) but I find the more interesting take is one that continues with the same momentum. This one doesn’t quite work in capturing the spirit of the original books for me but there’s a lot of really great ideas in here.

Superman for all Seasons by Jeph Loeb & Tim Sale (Complete) Having loved their Batman books I picked this up and, being younger and dumber, didn’t like it at the time. Where was the action? Where were the villains? I was naive. Going back to this I really appreciate the study of Superman, the narrative through the supporting cast, and the struggles that can’t be resolved through punching. Man Loeb & Sale were a team.

Fantastic Four: Full Circle by Alex Ross (Complete) As an one-off story, this delivers everything I’d want out of an FF adventure: group banter, weird worlds, and lots of mumbo jumbo science. Plus I mean the artwork is truly humbling. I had to read it twice and I still only 80% understand it all but that’s not a complaint. Totally worth picking up if you have even a passing interest in the Fantastic Four.

Ultimate Spider-Man Volume 5 & 6 by by Brian Michael Bendis, Mark Bagley, and more  (Complete) Decided to pick up with my reread of the Ultimate Spider-Man series again and woof I forgot how much I didn’t like volume 5. The first half is an Ultimates story that I STILL find too wordy, and the movie tie-in of the second half never quite clicked. I dunno maybe there are too many losses and not enough wins for Parker in this one? Volume 6, however, is great. It has one of the most frustrating deaths in the series but it really explores the aftermath and impact. And introducing Johnny Storm and using him as the reason Spider-Man gets back into the hero stuff is really great. Spider-Man doesn’t need to solve all problems with punches and this book gets that.

……….AUDIO……….

Wild Planet by The B-52s (1980) After listening to a greatest hits album on repeat as a kid, I’m going back to the early stuff. Can’t get Private Idaho out of my head.

FREE I.H.: This Is Not the One You've Been Waiting For by Illuminati Hotties (2020) They always pop up in lists when I search for “more stuff like Sleigh Bells” but it finally clicked for me after listening to content//bedtime. Love this album.

……….GAMING……….

Neverland: A Fantasy Role-Playing Setting (Andrews McMeel Publishing) Whoa okay so my weekly group just fled the land of the Fairies after some drama with the Queen of the realm (you can read about it here) and then my Mof1 game ALSO had some Fairy drama involving the Queen. Apparently she’s a dramatic lady.

And that’s it. See you in April!

#Monthly Media #Andrew Kolb #Kolbisneat

[moosecow]

UNPOPULAR OPINION TIME!

Ten things I wish would just DIE already…

10. Miraculous Ladybug

Before you sharpen your pitchforks! Hear me out! I actually REALLY like this show…but GOD It is the BIGGEST tease I have EVER seen! Marinette and Adrien should have gotten together at the end of the first season, and maybe we could have explored their relationship, given them more depth? Raised the stakes instead of the CONANT. ENDLESS. FILLER. Of absolute nothing that is this show. We all know they’re going to get together, just rip the bandaid and let us move on. I’ve never seen a show jerk its fan base around so much!

9. Avatar the Last Air Bender

Again, I LOVE THIS SHOW, SO, SO MUCH! But I can tell that they’re now turning this into a cash cow. I don’t want to see another avatar show, especially after what they did with Legend of Korra. What made Avatar so special was that, yes there was a lot going on in their world, but it never stopped focusing on the core cast, their development, their relationships, and their reactions to the world they live in. Korra just gave us more and more characters instead of focusing on the ones we had, and it lost me with its overcomplicated plot, and I fear legend of Genji, AND the live action remake (which already has alarm bells going up because it’s live action and when has worked out well?) Can we just…revive an old gem on Nickelodeon? Or make something new and substantial instead of relying on SpongeBob reruns?

8. Dragon Ball

Yes, another show I like! But MAN! How many power-ups can we go through before it gets old! Even ASH finally reached his goal in pokemon! There’s so much content here, and I’m grateful for that! I don’t mind more games and merchandise, but enough of the show! It’s clear that only Goku and Vegeta are the only characters capable of beating the big enemy, and no one cares much for the younger characters taking over. But at this point their not that interesting. ESPECIALLY Goku. He’s just a guy that likes fighting. Vegeta was more interesting with his reformed villain arc, but he is constantly overshadowed by his dumber super-saiyen. It feels like they’ve exhausted all their stories….

7. Velma

I’m gonna barf. Seriously, all people do is complain about this show. Can we just, STOP? Review bombing it, complaining about it, making reaction videos to it, is just…feeding it at this point. If all of us hate so much! So many shows that deserved to be watched and enjoyed were completely ignored and faded away from the public consciousness, but not this one, at least, not yet. I see video and video about it! Ignore it. Let it die like it’s supposed to! And now I will never mention it again, and neither should you!

6. Marvel

It’s not so much as I want this franchise to die…more like…I think we need a break! It’s been like 20 years of non stop Marvel and I feel like we already peaked with the Avengers Endgame. Besides Moon Knight and Wakanda Forever, all I’ve seen is general dislike of all the new stuff coming out. I know that Disney is a big conglomerate and they’re going to milk this thing for all it’s worth…but wouldn’t people enjoy it more if you let it simmer for a bit, let the ideas come back after some rest, and then get back into it?

5. 13 Reasons Why

This show should have stayed a book! Oh. My. God. As someone that struggles with mental illness, watching this get sensationalized and reduced to nothing more then teenage angst for badly written teenage characters is so gross! I don’t have much to say about it. It just makes me so angry! How do people actually like this and continue to watch and recommend it? It’s basically the same as every other “dramatic” teen show out there, but uses suicide as a hook to draw people in, which is so disrespectful! You want a show that is more mature then this and actually handles mental illness well? Watch BoJack Horseman.

4. Grey’s Anatomy

I don’t care about the relationships in this show. I don’t who broke up with who, who died, who couldn’t have a kid, who cheated on who. I cared more, in the first season at least, when they were just young surgeons, and they were dealing with the struggles of that. BUT MAN! This show quickly became a soap opera! I mean what did I expect from an ABC show. Just end it already! If you want a good show about doctor’s that focuses on their personal growth and the difficulties of the job watch House, or better yet, watch Scrubs.

3. Kingdom Hearts

This hurts. This hurts. So. Much. GOD! I love these games…but I REALLY hate the direction they’re going. KH3 was such a red flag! The story was complicated enough with time travel, the whole foretellers things, how we keep adding characters instead of focusing on the core Destiny Islands Trio, how Kairi is basically a plot device where, EVEN IN HER OWN GAME, she has to be rescued by Sora. And now, KH4 is on its way and Nomura is basically turning it into versus 13….I don’t even know anymore. Things were getting real dumb in Dream Drop Distance. I’m just going to pretend thee series ended at KH2, where the emotions were there and the story wasn’t derailed and removed of all the charm it had…Either end it…or do something actually good with it, because at this point, it’s just getting ridiculous. And this is coming from someone that loves this series with every fiber of their being.

2. Stranger Things

Yeah, Netflix will cancel actually interesting things like Inside Job, Dead End National Park, I’m not okay with this, Sense 8, and introduce stupid ideas such as removing password sharing (EVEN AFTER RAISING THE PRICE BECAUSE PEOPLE WERE PASSWORD SHARING) but they will keep things like Cuties and…this show. At this point, Stranger Things is a shadow of its former self. Not only are there no stakes, because everyone has plot armor, but it’s basically just teenage drama at this point. Remember how in Season 1, the demagorgan was actually scary? Remember how going into the upside down had health consequences? The characters just walk around now without a problem. But this show is just drama filled enough to keep the attention of the masses without actually having any substance. It makes me sad that it followed the pattern of the first season being the most interesting season and then everything going down hill from there. How did THIS show, of all shows…make me not care? What could be worse then this?

Well…

#1. Harry Potter Series

I loved this as a kid. I read this thing so many times…but now…I’m past it, and JK is just. A. Terrible. Terrible. Person…the fact that it doesn’t end with her words, that she actively gives money and supports hate groups, kind ruins the messages I learned in HP. As a kid, I thought part of the point was to be inclusive, and to make life better for people that are mistreated by the mainstream. But no. Not only were the last few movies terrible, but Rowling keeps digging that hole. Even if I wanted to, I just can’t enjoy it anymore. So, even if not everyone will. I’m going to let it die. We need another book series to inspire a generation…I just can’t with this anymore…

#harry potter #jk rowling #stranger things #Alta #avatar the last airbender #dragon ball #kingdom hearts #grey’s anatomy #13 reasons why #marvel #Disney #netflix #velma show #velma #miraculous ladybug #unpopular opinion #unpopular take #so many great shows are cancelled while garbage gets pushed forward #or great shows get beaten down into cash cows…

[shiningwonderland]

Camus (All Star) Memorial

Translator: Mimi (twitter: _mimisaurora)

Memorial 7 - The New Year Holidays

[December 16th]

“I see… Mhm. I understand. Bye…”

I hang up the phone and glance at the calendar on the table.

“Hmm… Yeah. I had planned to go home for the holiday…”

It’s mid-December. 

I guess my family was suddenly given tickets for a trip, which meant no one will be at home if I go back this year. 

“What do I do…”

I have a ton of free time now that I took all this time off work.

Of course, it’s not the end of the world; the more time spent on the solo, the better.

But it’s New Years….

“What is it? You’re staring off into space. It's making your face look even dumber.”

I raised my head and found Camus-senpai walking up the stairs looking exasperated.

“Ah! S-Sorry!”

“...Don’t apologize. So, what is it?”

I told him about the holidays and he let out a huff.

“Well, you could stay here, then, or spend time back in your dorm room.”

“I-I suppose. What about you…?”

“Everything's business as usual. I haven't been instructed to return home.”

“So… you’re working?”

“You're my assistant and yet don't even keep track of my schedule? There��s the countdown live and a special New Year’s broadcast. I have no time.”

“That’s true…”

I would be lonely if I went back to the dormitory, and I'd probably have more fun spending time with Alexander instead.

And it’s not like Camus-senpai won’t be here at all…

So I decided to spend the holidays here at his tower.

[December 21st]

It sounds like something’s going on out front.

I heard a rumble, as if something heavy were being moved, and I opened the front door to find out why…

I was greeted by large bamboo stalks.

It was a bundle of three thick green bamboo surrounded by pine branches.

“Woah… It’s kadomatsu!”

Lined up on each side of the front door were huge kadomatsu displays, which were much taller than I was.

Camus-senpai appeared from the other side as I stood there admiring its magnificence.

“What do you think?”

“T-This is all you…?”

“Of course.”

“Wow… It’s wonderful.”

I can't remember ever seeing anything quite this impressive before.

These must have originally been meant to be displayed in a department store or somewhere similar.

“Don't act so surprised. You were the one who wanted to decorate for New Year's.”

“I-I know.”

But I had imagined the kadomatsu would be much smaller than that…

“If I say I will do it, then it will be done thoroughly.”

“That’s incredible…”

But did he carry this all by himself?

“Fufu. I gave him a hand!”

Popping out from behind the other kadomatsu tree was…

“Shinomiya-san!”

He smiled with a waive of his hand, saying, “It’s so good to see you!”

His eyes lit up when noticing my outfit.

“Wah, you look like the cutest doll!”

“Thank you. It’s what I wear when working from home!”

“He had asked to see Alexander. I had him help me out in return.”

I heard Shinomiya-san and Alexander were very close and often hung out with each other in his room during his time at the Master Course dormitory.

“How wonderful, Shinomiya-san. You and Alexander got along quickly.”

“That’s not at all what happened. Shinomiya hugged Alexander against his will and patted him down vigorously, the struggle lasting several minutes.”

“I-Is that the case…”

“Alex-kun was simply shy at first. But now we’re the best of friends…”

Alexander rushed out of the tower before Shinomiya-san could finish his sentence.

“Arf! Arf arf arf arf arf arf!”

“Alex-kun! How have you been!?”

Alexander ran straight to Shinomiya-san, leaping on him and showering him with licks.

“Hah! That tickles!”

“Arf arf!”

“Yes, of course I’m happy to see you! Hm? You want to show me around the place? That sounds lovely.”

Shinomiya-san beamed and entered into a joyful chat with Alexander.

Camus-senpai….

“...”

He kind of looked like he didn’t know what to feel.

Could it be…

“Do you miss Alexander a little now that Shinomiya-san has all his attention?”

He raised a brow at that.

“Oh?... You feel like you can be smart with me now?”

“I-I’m sorry.”

I hurried to apologize, but he simply placed a hand on my head and ruffled my hair.

“Don’t do that… My hair looks like a bird's nest now.”

“Hm. It suits you.”

“You’re… What a bully.”

I was forced to go inside the house to fix it.

“While you're at it, brew Shinomiya some tea. Are there any pastries left?”

“I’ll bring out the macarons I bought the other day.”

“Good. Their sweets are delicious. It’ll be perfect. But… you know, the ones I took out of the box and placed aside....”

“Oh, the lemon ones you put your name on. Did you not want me to serve those out?”

I remembered lemon being Camus-senpai’s favorite flavor.

“...Yes.”

“Don’t you two worry about it~”

Shinomiya-san and Alexander both ran out to the backyard.

It’d probably be a while before they’d come back.

I decided to take the opportunity to prepare a special pot of tea.

Camus-senpai and I walked up to the living room together, where he stopped in his tracks and pointed to the table top.

“What is that…?”

Oh….

That’s right.

I had finished it a while ago and left it out there.

“Well, I just figured I’d make a kadomatsu…”

I was planning to display it at the entrance, but had made it using a diy-kit, so it was no bigger than 20cm and looked pitiful compared to Senpai’s. 

“And since now we have beautiful genuine Kadomatsu, I thought I'd leave this one somewhere else…”

He quickly picked up the small kadomatsu I had made and strode off down the stairs.

“H-Huh…?”

There is something a little surreal about seeing a tiny kadomatsu stuck between two much bigger ones.

But it did make me a little happy.

“It kind of looks like parents with their kid.”

“...Mhm.”

Shinomiya-san and Alexander were laughing together when they returned.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting~. Woah, I see Kadotsu-san has a new adorable little friend. What happened?”

“I have no clue. It must have multiplied on its own. Go back inside, Shinomiya. I hear you have a profound knowledge of tea. Let’s see if you can try to correctly identify the tea leaves.”

“Alright! I’ll do my best!”

Then we all enjoyed a nice cup of tea.

[December 31st]

“Alrighty, the windows are spotless!”

“Bark!”

“The handrails on the staircase are all polished!”

“Bark!”

“And the entry way’s spic-and-span. This concludes the house cleaning!”

“Arf arf!”

I unwrapped my hair scarf and untied my apron, Alexander ran to his bed and came back with one of his new toys in his mouth.

He places it at my feet, raises his paw and pushes the toy toward me respectfully.

“Are you… giving this to me?”

“Arf!”

It looked like he was rewarding me for all the hard work I'd put into cleaning up, so I gratefully accepted the gift.

“Well, then let's take a short break and then have some dinner after.”

“Bark!”

Today was New Year's Eve.

Camus-senpai had work until the morning of New Year's Day, so it was just Alexander and I for dinner.

I want to catch the countdown program he's going to be featured on, and I decided to settle on an easy meal.

Then I'll go all out on New Year’s soba....

Oh, but he might be tired coming home, something lighter might be better.

“Grr…. Bark!”

I was thinking it over in the kitchen when Alexander pulled at the end of my apron with a tug.

“Huh? Oh, the show is about to start!”

I rushed to prepare a quick dinner and also figure out when Senpai would be home, setting about preparing the soba.

[January 1st]

I wonder when he’ll be home…

The live broadcast should follow shortly after the countdown ends.

Then, he’ll have to go visit his work colleagues.

And if he takes a taxi back from the studio, the traffic will likely be bad today…

“I made it…”

Ah!

Alexander and I both leaned to look down from the second floor the moment we heard a key being inserted into the front door.

“Happy New Year, Camus-senpai!”

“Arf arf!”

“...So you’re still awake.”

“Of course!”

“...”

Senpai looked up at us in silence for a while, still in his coat.

“...”

“...”

“...I’ll say it back if only because you said it first. Happy New Years.”

“Thank you!”

I walked down the stairs, collecting his coat and satchel.

“So, how does New Year's soba sound?”

“Having a little wouldn’t hurt.”

“Perfect. Then let's have some while watching the countdown!”

“Wait. Did you record it?”

“Well, I watched the first half, but I figured we should still do the countdown together.”

“I don't follow. I mean, what's the use of having a taped countdown?”

“Oh… It probably doesn’t make much sense, does it.”

“...We’ll do as you like.”

When I returned to the living room after fixing up the soba, Senpai was preparing to watch the recording.

We started playing it as soon as we were ready and enjoyed the soba on the living room sofa side by side.

“So the soba is eaten after New Year’s Eve.”

“That’s right.”

On the TV, Camus-senpai was just about to speak with the MC.

Every time he spoke even briefly accompanied by a graceful gesture, the audience would go wild.

It struck me as curious that the idol shining so radiantly on the other side of the screen was sitting right next to me, dipping wasabi into his soba.

“You certainly know how to eat soba, Camus-senpai.”

I've always heard that foreigners aren't comfortable making noise when eating like this, but…

“It’s proper etiquette to slurp up soba and udon noodles loudly. It is only natural, then, that I learn to do so.”

Senpai slurped the soba with a proud look on his face, then froze for a moment, before silently pressing down on the corner of his eye.

“What’s wrong?”

“The wasa… You know, don’t worry about it. I'm not going to let this faze me.”

“A-Alright.”

“...It tastes like you're buying all the vegetables fresh.”

“I am. I try to be mindful. The shopkeeper has started recognizing me as of late. I got a free gift of mandarin oranges yesterday!”

“...Who is this shopkeeper?”

“She is an old lady with a sweet smile…”

“...That’s good.”

He nodded somewhat grimly and added sugar to the wasabi remaining on a small plate.

“I hear that if you add sugar to wasabi, it loses its bitterness and enhances its spiciness.”

“Hm…. You're right. You certainly seem to know a lot for someone such as yourself.”

After quietly moving the small plate aside, Camus-senpai looked up.

“Have you ever heard of curry soba?”

“Curry soba?”

“Mhm. I just learned about it the other day while looking into curry udon.”

Senpai shares all sorts of interesting tidbits on curry soba, and then moves on to talking about the curry at a soba shop.

He was very talkative and both Alexander and I enjoyed listening to him very much.

The countdown eventually started, so we paused for a second to watch the recording.

We celebrated the countdown a few hours late, and when I looked up at a bright light, I noticed that it was getting light outside the window.

“It’s sunrise already. I came home rather late.”

“Looks like we missed the first sunrise of the year.”

“It appears to be so…”

“Oh, that’s right. I’ve also prepared Osechi too. Would you like to have some of it?”

“No, it’s too…”

Camus-senpai stopped himself from finishing his sentence.

“Osechi has lots of sweet dishes, doesn't it.”

“Yes. Like Kuromame, Datemaki…”

“Then… I may have a few bites.”

“Of course! I’m glad. I worked really hard on it.”

As I was about to head for the kitchen, he called out to stop me from behind.

“You don't have to serve me. It's better you go to bed instead. Don't you realize what time it is?”

He shooed me away and pointed toward my room.

“R-Right. Well, please start with the breakfast foods, as I set a few dishes aside for tasting.”

It would be a lie if I said I wasn't feeling tired, given that I worked on a lot New Year's Eve.

I decided to listen to him and get some sleep.

“I will be taking a nap after this and heading back to work. Remember to lock up if you go out.”

“Of course. I will.”

“...Hold on. Can you only have one of this Datemaki per person?”

“N-Not at all!!”

I was on my way up the stairs when I whipped around and found him smirking at me.

… He was pulling my leg.

“...Seriously. Oh, Senpai.”

“What is it?”

“I look forward to another year with you.”

Camus-senpai looked at me for a moment in surprise as I smiled and bowed to him.

“Ah… I suppose. I cannot tell you what the future will bring, but for now, I will say the same thing in return.”

“Thank you!”

Once again, I wish you a Happy New Year.

#utapri #all star #all star camus #camus utapri #camus memorial

[shankschewtoy]

hey, hi SO KAJAKS i read some of you works and 🛐🛐 damn, it is so good. (but why do you bully my man so much??😭😭 im talkin bout kid lmao)

my request is could you write for (surprise surprise) kid x gn!reader in where he is in a relationship w someone who's... like really quiet in school (plus sleeps in class) but talks waay too much when alone w him (about any stupid thing they like), they're tired 24/7, super sarcastic and love to "trash talk" people w kid (i just see that happening kajsk). and don't worry if you don't like the request or something, feel free to ignore and delete it!!!

a/n - Kajsjsbdjdbc you’re so sweet I’m so glad you like my stuff 🥺 Idk why I bully him sm sorryyy- and oml I feel like kid and reader would literally be the best trash talkers, whispering, gossiping, omg. Yes. And we all love a sleep deprived reader <3

Warnings ⚠️ - g/n reader, sleep deprivation, I might bully kid, I’ll try my best not to :’)

No you.

It was another boring day in class. You felt like you were about to fall asleep, the teacher’s rambling on- whatever little nuances in the historical textbook the class was reading was only feeding your fatigue even more. You fiddled with your pencil, twirling it around in your fingers as you sunk into the plastic chair. The chair wasn’t that comfortable, but with the 1 hour of sleep you got, plus being in class made you think that literally anything was alright to sleep on. Some kid right next to you was diligently copying down every single word the teacher was saying. You looked at the font of the heading of the subject, “Slavery and Plague” was written in glittery pink letters, highlighted with a pastel purple. You could only look at it with a tired and deadpan look, and when the kid looked at you, she had a horrified look on her face. You saw the look in her eyes, that disgusting look of a nerdy tattle tale teacher’s pet. “Ms. Schusterman? The person next to me isn’t paying attention to your lesson!” She shouted in the most prissy, bratty, idiotic sounding voice you’ve ever heard. No one in your class but Kid knew your name, you didn’t think they needed to know, and honestly who cared. You were mostly the quiet kid in class. “I have a name- dumbass..” You muttered under your breath. You looked behind you, across the room until your eyes gazed at familiar, spiky red hair. Eustass Kidd, the scary, intimidating guy that you were together with. He looked over in your direction and he made a dumb face to mimic the girl that just ratted you out. You snickered softly, taking your hood off your head. “Oh really? Miss…” The teacher started to say before frantically scrambling to grab the class seating chart. You couldn’t help but silently try to not laugh while your teacher struggled to find your name according to her seating chart. “Ah, y/n l/n.. I suggest you pay attention, or else you might fail the upcoming exams.” The teacher said with an orderly tone before going back to her lecture. “Thanks a lot nerd.” You muttered angrily at the girl next to you. The girl had the smuggest look on her face, pride written all over her. “Hmph!” She huffed at you, turning back to her notebook and continuing to write her little dumb little notes on her paper. You rolled your eyes, sinking back into your chair, reluctantly pulling your gaze towards the textbook in front of you. You almost felt like slamming the book into the girl’s head, but you didn’t have the energy to do anything. You never did.

Right when the bell rang, you’ve never snapped out of a daze more quickly. You started to pack your backpack, putting your notebook and textbook into the big pocket. The girl walked up to you, unsurprisingly. “So y/n, if you ever need help with like- maybe not failing the tests? You can always ask me! I love helping the dumber kids.” She’d say with her textbook in her arms. She had the most- irritating expression on her face, just her voice made you want to slam her face into the ground. “Just go away. I hate teacher’s pets.” A familiar voice said, standing behind you and wrapping his arms around you. “K-Kid?!” She shouted, her cheeks flushing red. It hit you, Oh my god. This bitch has a crush on Kid- welp- that’s another thing to make fun of. You thought to yourself with a smirk. “What’s wrong? You scared of me? I said scram.” Kid said with a smile, leaning half his body into your back. The girl had the most frustrated expression on her face. It looked like her eyes were about to pop out of her head from embarrassment and anger. “You’re with him?! How could someone like- you end up with him?!” She yelled angrily. “Ohhh so you like him huh?? That’s cute. Maybe you should be with her Kid.” You joked with a lethargic tone, looking up at your boyfriend. He chuckled, smiling at the girl, leaving her speechless. You honestly didn’t know that she had a crush on him, but what better way to make fun of her than this? You hardly had to do any work which was also super convenient. The girl stomped off rather dramatically, and you two burst out laughing. “PFT- THE STOMPS- WHAT A BRAT-!” You cackled, almost falling to the ground in laughter. Kid was also about to collapse, he was wheezing so hard, banging the table form how stupid the girl was. That was a high note to end a school day, and you two still had so much more shit talking to do about the other dumbasses in school.

As you both walked down the pathways shaded by concrete roofs, you saw a classmate walk past you guys. “That’s the guy that farts and blames it on the guy sitting next to him.” You whispered into his ear as he stifled a laugh. “His hair looks like someone dropped the fucking razor.” He whispered back, making you cover your mouth to silence your laughs. You two were like bullies, just silently gossiping and shit-talking random kids that had nothing to do with you. When you saw a boy and girl sitting down together and making out, you tapped Kid’s shoulder, “I saw that dude making out with another girl last period.” You mentioned softly. He snickered, that relationship wasn’t going to last long. “Look at his red hair.. That looks so weird.” A kid whispered as they walked past you two. “Great...” You whispered, sighing sarcastically and leaning against the wall, this was going to be a while. “He even has that ugly shade of red on his nails- dumbass.” The other kid whispered with a silent laugh. Kid saw you already in a comfortable position to take a nap, and he was already storming over towards the two little pieces of shit. “What’d you say about my hair?” He asked, towering over them. They stopped in their tracks and looked up at him, their eyes instantly filled with regret. “W-we didn’t mean it- we promise!” The kid shouted, trying to run away as fast as he could. Kid grabbed both of them, carrying them up by their collars with one hand, “We’re new! We didn’t know-!” They protested, tears of fear starting to well up in their eyes. Kid slammed his fist into their faces, dropping their shaking bodies to the ground. “Welcome, shitheads.” He replied, walking back towards you. He tapped the top of your head, but there was no response, “Y/n.” He said, shaking you by your shoulders gently. Your head was resting in your curled up knees, and your arms were hugging your legs close to your chest. You were completely- asleep… “I’m not carrying you.” He mentioned into your ear, bending down to you. When he still got no response he sighed, “Y/n, you can sleep at home.” He said again, knocking on your head. “Leave me alone. I’m tired.” You replied, shifting away from him. Kid was often offended by other people- but never you. This time, that was actually kind of offensive to him. He got a bit sad, but looked angry instead. “That was rude, asshole.” He grumbled, grabbing you by your arm and slinging you over his shoulder with ease. “Yet you’re still carrying me.” You muttered into his ear with a tired smile. His cheeks flushed red, and he grunted, “I’m going to fucking drop you.” He replied threateningly. “Aaaaaaah I’m so scared..” You said with a very, very, unfazed sounding tone. You yawned, leaning your head in the crook of his neck, wrapping your arms and legs around him, nuzzling into his body warmth. If there was one thing that made Kid shut up, it was when you’d fall asleep on him. He instantly shut his mouth, keeping one arm around you to make sure you wouldn’t fall off of him. A soft smile spread across his face as he gazed at your sleeping figure, “Night, y/n.”

a/n - I didn’t bully him ✨\(//∇//)\✨ (I’m so proud) I was rlly sleepy when I did this so I think it was a bit accurate hehe

<3

[luuurien]

Indigo De Souza - All of This Will End

(Indie Rock, Singer/Songwriter, Indie Pop)

With exceptionally raw songwriting packing an incredible amount of emotion, Indigo De Souza’s third album confronts toxic relationships and traumatic scars from her youth in a more direct fashion than ever before. Now knowing how she wants to be loved and refusing to let negative emotions sit inside her, All of This Will End’s explosive songcraft makes her music hit harder than ever.

☆☆☆☆☆

There’s a moment in All of This Will End where the power of Indigo De Souza’s music is more immediate than ever before. As the plush electronic drums and jangly guitars start up in The Water, you can feel the perspective shift to a snapshot of her past, comforting but with an awareness of being back in a more turbulent point in her life. It’s an effortlessly beautiful song, one that basks in the warmth of childhood innocence in an album where anger and desire tend to rule, and it’s this balance of resignation and rage Indigo De Souza’s third album perfects. Where her debut caught her in the midst of overwhelming darkness, and Any Shape You Take chronicled self-discovery and the rush of feeling every emotion that comes your way, All of This Will End seeks growth through purging all the feelings she’s been holding in, acidic indie rock where quick flashes of fury dance around intimate scenes of De Souza’s youth. It’s a fabulously dynamic album where De Souza’s exceptionally-pared down songwriting packs an incredible amount of emotion, committed performance and a new production team letting her music bounce between styles without having to bend her songwriting to it - the sound of these songs aims to compliment her earnest songwriting rather than force it to fit in a box. As quickly as the album comes to a close, every feeling of hers has been fully transferred to you.

With a new sound after the departure of Any Shape You Take bandmates Owen Stone and MJ Lenderman- an event that entirely shook De Souza after starting to feel that those people were the only people for {her}” - All of This Will End lovingly embraces the gauzy dance-pop and country twang pieces of Any Shape You Take hinted at never fully explored. Compare the album’s first two singles, Younger & Dumber and Smog, and you can find the intersection where the album’s two thematic paths cross. The former is a haunting country ballad built on a foundation of strummed acoustic guitar and warm piano, a direct conversation between De Souza and her younger self, how the abuse she endured in the past so deeply changed her into who she is today even if she knows she deserved none of it (“You came to hurt me in all the right places / Made me somebody / …I didn’t know better”). Smog exists back in that past, De Souza protected by moonlight as she escapes the pressures around her through carefree synthpop (“I want to face it head-on / But it’s so easy to turn it away / …I don’t know how to turn around if I’m not ready”). The rest of the songs fit largely into those two categories with De Souza’s perspectives on her past and present self always in the mix, the new doors opened up for her music making each one feel special and cared for, be it the heavy riffage and headphone-crushing percussion that manifests feelings of overwhelming insecurity in early highlight Wasting Your Time or the title track’s breezy indie rock where not having any answers allows her to love and take care of herself regardless of where she’s struggling (“There’s only love / There’s only moving through and trying your best / Sometimes it’s not enough / Who gives a fuck, all of this will end”); by providing many iterations of herself in All of This Will End, she makes an immensely comforting album in its ability to own all its emotions, letting you into her world and see her forgive and heal from her past without letting those who hurt her escape from accountability.

Her straightforward emotional storytelling works as well on short tracks as much as it does on the album’s two slow-burns, Not My Body and Younger & Dumber. Sequencing-wise, they take up an eight minute stretch at the album’s end that initially feels at odds with the brisk pace and urgent feel of the previous songs, still dealing with heavy emotion but choosing to wade in them, slow and reflective in ways her music rarely has been up to this point. De Souza’s songs have always been deeply attuned to her emotional states both euphoric and miserable, but there’s something fresh and cutting about the way she leans into the crushing midsection of Not My Body, letting the fourth between the two notes she sings in the first three lines of the final verse ascend quickly before slowly sliding down the final half of each line, her desperation to escape the physical limitations of her body coming to its breaking point before the last half of the song smoothly drifts out into a smoky alt-country sunset. These two extended moments of songcraft give even greater meaning to the songs before them: the panic attack at the center of Parking Lot is only two and a half minutes and Always’ gutting attempt to make sense of her father’s extended absence in her childhood are that much more important when it’s clear just how present and heavy those feelings are within her in each. All of This Will End doesn’t mind lingering, but it’s De Souza’s choosing of when to sit with feelings and when to let them pour out that the album earns such a beautiful sense of wholeness, content with not having a final answer as long as she’s moving forward into a better future.

Like her previous albums, All of This Will End deals with De Souza’s internal world and how devoting yourself to love both breaks and reconstructs you, but what has changed is how her existential dread now gives her a reason to go as big as possible, musical colors more vivid than ever and writing with a desire to do nothing but say exactly how she feels with nothing in between you and her. Her ease at describing feelings so simply without losing an edge to her writing is second to none, and her passionate performances that go from elated to terrified in the blink of an eye keep you right next to her throughout every moment. The core of De Souza’s music is in honesty and expressing every feeling without fear, and All of This Will End’s willingness to let every version of De Souza exist together gives every song the opportunity to pull you into her world for a bit, admire the beauty of it all, and move forward into the future alongside her. It may be short, but that makes cherishing every second that much more valuable.

#indigo de souza #all of this will end #saddle creek #alt-country #indie pop #indie rock #singer/songwriter #synthpop #2023 #10/10 #album review #album reviews #new music #music review #2023 music #luuurien

[scrumptioushuman]

Gonna be honest I don’t know how to use this app, so be warned, it may be cringe⚠️⚠️

________________________________

So if 141 were part of different motorsports, which would they be? Moto GP? Indy racing? F1? NASCAR? {there is an amazing story by Nuria123 called Racing Hearts Season , all out Formula 1. Highly recommend.}

Personally I need a story of 141 as a street racing team. Ghost would be the driver- I’m sorry he just is. Love my little guy. Will figure out his backstory later👍. Roach gotta be the name of his first car that he totalled tho. He’s be racing, but his car got rigged and his car does summersaults before crashing, Price going in and saving him. His old mechanic- Sparks- gets’s fired and he begins to fix his own cars, making his hands and deadly steady, but he struggles to figure out what he’s doing most of the time. Price knows he needs more help but is constantly getting waved off by his absent protests. Roach wasn’t coming back, so instead he made a new car called Ghost. Having connections with the son of a bitch Gaz with his mansions and museums filled with cars allowed him to buy his Porsche. It was a banged up Yeah, but he was determined to make Ghost perfect. His creation, all his no one was going to fuck it up. And then Price brought one stupid looking guy into the garage. He had a stupid Mohawk, a dumb leather jacket and an even dumber looking smirk. He hated the joy radiating off of him. And he heard his voice, fuckin’ hell- he’s Scottish too. Price introduced the two. Simon pulled the sleeve higher on his face, wanting this guy, John, to leave as soon as possible. Smiley, too giddy looking at his car, too intrigued in Simon. And greasy. Greasy. “Price, for fuck’s sakes- I told you I don’t need a fucking Mechanic.” Soap looks undeterred by his obvious irritation of his being there, continuing to mull over the severity of the damage. “This car has more potential and you know it son.” Price said sternly. “If my hands worked better I could help but if your gonna push me away every time I’m trying to help you not fuck up then it’s clear someone else more capable does.”

Simon hates that he knows he’s right. He’s not made to fix the shit box. Yeah he fixed the door and the paint, but with only one NOS connected, he felt incomplete, obviously needing more. She looked at John. Gave him a once over. “Pretty lass she is.” John smiled smoothly. Simon didn’t know what to say. What could he say. Be wanted nothing to do with this prick. Soap tried to ignore the clear distaste being thrown towards him. “So… what’s his name?”

Bold of him to assume the car was a guy. Which it was.

A sign to Ghost that this Scott was a bit more than he let on.

I went on a bit of a tangent there but basically:

Ghost = Driver

Gaz = Money machine

Soap = Mechanic

Price = Think Of Doc from Cars. Yeah.

Everyone else I got to figure out, including Soap’s nickname. Also König. Need my baby boy there- and Krueger and Nikto.

-Flesh

#cod headcanons #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #cod fics #soapghost #call of duty mw2 #need more motor sport shit with these lads

[tineteenieworld3]

As much as it’s highly possible, it’s so hard to believe that Mike actually thinks El commissioned that painting.

Like, there’s parts where yeah, he doesn’t have this belief that Will would lie to him because they just don’t do that, but there’s more to it than that. Like, Mike isn’t stupid, he’s such a smart character, especially when it comes to Will. I mean, for christ sake, in season 2 he was able to pick up the tiniest details in Will’s words and body language that no one else could.

“He’s quiet today.”

“He’s always quiet.”

Is by far one of my favorites, no matter how tiny the example is.

Or the, “you shouldn’t have upset him.”

Mike pretty quickly grasped onto the whole situation after that.

No matter the change he’s had in the last two seasons, he’s still that same character. He’s not that dense or oblivious, of course the actors say he is, but what we are actually seeing onscreen is different. Mike knows and sees a lot, I mean even in some scenes throughout literally any season, you can just see his mind working in the background or his eyes following something or other. He’s extremely observant and quick.

Idk, maybe I just don’t like the new characteristic that’s been thrown at his character from everywhere, that he’s this oblivious goofball that doesn’t know what’s going on (I feel like that can sometimes be us mixing up Finn’s other character Richie Toizer with Mike, which is totally fine! It’s gonna happen, but they are not that much alike. Of course there’s similarities, but Mike isn’t a side character at all OR comedic relief, he’s pretty serious overall). He just doesn’t actually seem like that in the show. Like in the source material he’s pretty different than the outside characteristics we’ve all given him. And I’m not talking about what Finn Wolfhard says about him, because that’s a completely different thing and he can’t actually say much, I’m rewatching and only talking about the writing of this character.

Anyways back to the program. I absolutely adore Mike Wheeler, first season he and Lucas were my absolute favorites. But going into season three, and season four especially, although it’s much quieter and backgroundish, Mike still has that same silent awareness of what’s happening. Yes his relationship with El doesn’t make him ‘dumber’ or less aware of other people, which is a whole other reason as to why they are so bad for eachother, but in general he’s not really that oblivious.

In season 4, in the fight we are informed that Mike was very very aware of everything Will was doing. I mean, down to the tiniest mannerisms. I do think he struggles to focus on like a million things at once, but if we’re just talking about the painting and Will, Mike is the smartest guy out there. He knows, he knows Will Byers like the back of his hand, we’ve been shown that time and time again. Mike is an emotional character, in situations with feelings he struggles to articulate his words in the heat of the moment, he gets brash and says before thinking. But with Will, it doesn’t take him long to think and get it together.

I don’t even know what I’m saying at this point. Mike can be very mysterious to me at times, I want to understand him better, but overall he’s not really that oblivious and he kind of lurks at times, but if you follow his face or eyes in scenes where something is happening, we can see that he’s paying more attention than his dialogue let’s out.

I do not have it in myself to believe that Mike actually thinks that painting is from El. But that raises the point many others have brought up, maybe he didn’t believe it until they were in that pizza place and Will was pushing him to give a love confession, maybe that was the first time he actually questioned it and thought ‘oh my god I don’t know my friend anymore, he was telling the truth’. Really I have absolutely no idea, this is just me spitballing.

Mike is not really that much of an oblivious character. And we have solid proof that he’s very very aware of Will and every little thing he does, so it’s hard for me to believe he’s just hopping around in la la land with no idea what’s going on. Mike wheeler is far from stupid. Give me a hammer so I can crap him open.

#byler #just my thoughts

[neowinestainedress]

I have read at least two of your stories, and I'm absolutely in awe with them.

The first one was Everything Has Changed, and it truly left me begging for more. I normally only read fanfics with smut, but as I kept reading, I didn't care. It was so good. The way their story progressed and how Haechan came back while knowing what he did was a dick mode had my heart pounding.

Just now, I finished reading Hits Different and honestly, favorite Haechan fanfic at the moment. Haechan is the perfect amount of asshole (affectionate) and romantic loser. It was so crystal clear that he had fallen since the first night and couldn't help but laugh at reader for either not noticing or pretending not to.

The way he was so patient with her, respected all her boundaries despite her dumb ass (affectionate) not being clear about them. It honestly made his breaking point even more tragic. And I get him, I know we don't truly know Haechan and him in Hits Different is not necessarily the real him, but I have always felt we're so alike. He loves with all his heart, but that doesn’t mean he would keep letting someone walk over him.

And all the progress with reader was so refreshing. From the get-go, I could tell there was more to it than a couple of bad relationships. Probably it was me putting my years of Psych to use, but the way you wrote a character with trauma was so realistic. I honestly liked how you pointed out that she has indeed got therapy for it, but we can tell she still needs more time healing. I get annoyed when people make a character go to therapy for a couple of sessions, and suddenly, their trauma no longer exists. We all wish it was that easy.

I loved how she even fooled me for a second. When I noticed her trauma was not just some shitty ex, I tried to think about what it could be. For a moment, I thought it was her brother, but then I was like, "Oh no, she talked to Haechan about him like he's alive." And then when Johnny talked to her, I was like, "Wait, she must have lied." It just shows how high her walls were than even us don't truly know her until she could finally open up.

As a writer myself, reading this not only excited me but also inspired me so much. I truly love to make character studies, and this is such an inspiration for what I strive for. Not only that, it's been less than an hour since I finished, but my imagination can't stop running wild thinking in the ways their relationship progress and how she learns to let herself go, how Haechan can finally love freely without the fear of losing her.

Truly, I applaud you. If you ever publish your work, I hope to hold a copy of one of your works and cherish it.

HI!

And to think I struggled so much writing Everything has changed, kinda hated it to the core but I’m glad you liked it.

Just now, I finished reading Hits Different and honestly, favorite Haechan fanfic at the moment. Haechan is the perfect amount of asshole (affectionate) and romantic loser. It was so crystal clear that he had fallen since the first night and couldn't help but laugh at reader for either not noticing or pretending not to. The way he was so patient with her, respected all her boundaries despite her dumb ass (affectionate) not being clear about them. It honestly made his breaking point even more tragic. And I get him, I know we don't truly know Haechan and him in Hits Different is not necessarily the real him, but I have always felt we're so alike. He loves with all his heart, but that doesn’t mean he would keep letting someone walk over him.

The (affectionate) are killing me ajsodsjos they really are dumb and dumber. Agree, it’s obvious we don’t know him for real but he seems so full of love. As I said in other asks I’m really happy with his characterization in this fic because I feel I combined well his playful/teasing nature and his caring side (obv, once again, we don’t know the real him).

And all the progress with reader was so refreshing. From the get-go, I could tell there was more to it than a couple of bad relationships. Probably it was me putting my years of Psych to use, but the way you wrote a character with trauma was so realistic. I honestly liked how you pointed out that she has indeed got therapy for it, but we can tell she still needs more time healing. I get annoyed when people make a character go to therapy for a couple of sessions, and suddenly, their trauma no longer exists. We all wish it was that easy. I loved how she even fooled me for a second. When I noticed her trauma was not just some shitty ex, I tried to think about what it could be. For a moment, I thought it was her brother, but then I was like, "Oh no, she talked to Haechan about him like he's alive." And then when Johnny talked to her, I was like, "Wait, she must have lied." It just shows how high her walls were than even us don't truly know her until she could finally open up.

the way you wrote a character with trauma was so realistic SCREAMING CRYING I DID IT no but seriously, my characters always go through hell but it’s hard to describe these kinds of situations and I always fear it won’t be realistic so it makes me really happy to know I succeeded.

Yeah, she also surely needs more therapy. I also know love doesn’t fix traumas but she needed someone that supported and respected her so much, and healing is a long journey but having support from people close to her can make it less painful.

Plot twist *ta da* at first I wanted to take the conversation about her brother away but I thought it was better to leave them in because as you said it shows how closed in the pain she was. Also in my mind, it was also an indicator that she never expected them to last so she didn’t see a point in opening up about something so private with him.

As a writer myself, reading this not only excited me but also inspired me so much. I truly love to make character studies, and this is such an inspiration for what I strive for. Not only that, it's been less than an hour since I finished, but my imagination can't stop running wild thinking in the ways their relationship progress and how she learns to let herself go, how Haechan can finally love freely without the fear of losing her. Truly, I applaud you. If you ever publish your work, I hope to hold a copy of one of your works and cherish it.

This makes me so happy, never thought I’d ever inspire someone with my writing. I’m quite busy these days (hence the late reply, sorry) but I’ll try to read your work as soon as I have time. I love reading that people love character studies because building a character is my favourite thing about writing, but since I write fanfiction I always feel like I do too much, so it’s nice to know I’m not the only one that loves deep and complex characters. I think about it too, it definitely won’t be easy, and it will be a long road, but I know they will make it.

Thank you so much, if I’ll ever publish something, this hell site will be the first place I’ll make it known.

#answered #fullsunsets #fic: everything has changed #fic: hits different