#the result i wanted did win though. always be on your grind or whatever those dumb instagram motivational pages say

[ramblinganthropologist]

Writober 22 - 9 (Birth)

Summary: Sadako has an ax to grind with idols... or maybe a wooden sword to swing at them. What she didn’t expect after a competition was to be pulled head first into their glittering world because of spite. Oh well... it’s only for a week, right? This won’t start anything... right?

Right?

---

You think by now she would have come to expect her parents not showing up… but it still surprised her every time.

“You killed it again today, Sa-chan!”

Mia, one of her teammates, was clapping her on the back as they left, gear slung over their shoulders. Orange light stretched high above their heads, proof they had spent most of their afternoon hard at work.

Sadako had a trophy in her hands, a reward for being unbeaten throughout the entire tournament. It would go in the room with the rest of her awards for kendo, where all they would do was collect dust. After all, she was the only one who ever looked at them. Everyone else was too busy.

“Sa-chan?”

Mia’s voice drew her out of her sulk. Sadako picked up her head, seeing that the other girl had stopped walking and looked rather concerned. She felt her face heat up and she looked to the side to hide her blush. Most in the club would call that her standard move when she was embarrassed, though she would deny it to her death.

“Sorry, Mia. Guess I spaced out.”

She offered the other girl a grin. “You didn’t do so bad yourself, that last move was killer. Have you been working on that?”

“You know it! Next time I’m going to be the one who takes top prize!” Her bus stop was up ahead, so she held out her fist. “See you at school on Monday, remember to stretch so you don’t get sore!”

Sadako bumped her fist into her friend’s and watched as the girl ran off to catch the bus. As soon as she was out of sight, her smile fell. She dug her phone out of her pocket, where the last message displayed on screen as it lit up.

Sadako,

I’m sorry, but we’re not going to be able to make it today. One of your dad’s idols needs a consult and Haruka had a last minute job that we need to attend. Remember to breathe and I know your school will win!

-        Mom

“Once again, Haruka’s keeping them busy.” Sadako scowled as she deleted the message and stowed her phone back in her pocket. Truthfully, she hadn’t expected both parents to attend. They hadn’t done that since her elementary school entrance – hell, they hadn’t even shown up for middle school. It was always some random idol her dad worked on, or Haruka had something to do, or who the hell knew. Whatever it was, they could never come to her matches and waited to hear the results that night.

It was why their congratulations always ran hollow during dinner. She knew they didn’t care. Their only focus was her sister or their stupid idols.

Even though it was spring, a cold wind blew as she walked home. Like always, the shopping district she made her way through was busy. Girls her age gathered around the various shops, chatting with their friends, and taking pictures for social media. She did her best to keep out of those photos as she walked past, snaking around a tree in one instance.

She may have been in a bad mood, but she didn’t want to mess up somebody’s photo with her scowl.

“Look’s like our Sa-chan won again!” one of the shopkeepers spied her trophy as she passed. “Did you beat them all again?”

Their rival shopkeeper added, “Of course she did, nobody beats our Sa-chan when it comes to kendo! She’ll be on the national team for sure one day!”

Now that brought a smile to her face as she nodded at their words. “I sure hope I make the national team one day.”

That was her dream after all – fighting in front of the entire nation against the country’s top opponents. Just thinking about it got her blood pumping and added a spring to her step as she sped through the shopping district to get home.

She knew she wasn’t ready for that yet – but soon. She could taste it.

Another thing Sadako could taste was the spring air as she walked along the river bank. The scent of cherry blossoms filled the air as overhead, the blooms tinted the trees pink and white. It was too soon for them to fall, so for the moment they hung with their sweet scent.

The scent made her scowl too. Cherry blossoms were another thing Sadako hated thanks to her sister.

“She’s not even here and she’s pissing me off…” Sadako sighed as she brushed her hair from her eyes, only to have it fall back. “Forget being a top idol, her real power is being annoying as hell without even being around.”

Not that being around her was much better. The few times Haruka was home, she just felt on edge. Something about the other girl set her blood to boiling on sight, yet there was nothing she could do about it. After all, it wasn’t like she was trying to annoy her – she was just sitting there, acting as if she wasn’t her younger sister’s greatest annoyance.

It was a good thing she was a top idol – otherwise she’d be home more and it’d definitely boil over.

At least the water was pretty. Sadako stopped in the middle of the bridge over the river, staring down into the clear blue waters. It reflected the city back at her, buzzing with activity and humming with life. That, paired with the backdrop of cherry blossoms, gave it a feeling even the annoyed middle schooler could appreciate.

“At least I’ll have the TV to myself when I get home. Maybe there’s a movie on or something.” Sadako started to turn away, but motion in the distance pulled her attention. There was someone on the riverbank not too far away and judging from their body language they were upset.

“What do you mean you’re not going to come?!”

Her voice carried over the quiet bubbling over the river, high pitched and almost frantic. Logic was telling Sadako to just keep walking and forget the scene in front of her, but her gut refused to let it happen. It was her gut that started to move her feet in the direction of the girl on the bank, leaving the bridge and river behind.

If she had to guess, the girl was about her age. She was dressed fairly stylishly (not that Sadako knew anything about that, she just glanced at the fashion magazines her sister appeared in) and a bright pink cellphone was practically attached to her as she talked. Her expression didn’t match her outfit – she looked downright panicked.

“You can’t just leave me like this, it’s a week until the show!” The person on the other end of the line said something, and her eyes widened. “You can’t be serious… you’re just going to ditch me like that?! We’re supposed to be Friends!”

Judging by her body motions, the line clicked dead after that. It led to the girl staring down blank faced at her cellphone, expression unreadable. Then tears beaded in her eyes that she started to scrub away with her sleeve, but more came.

And Sadako was witness to all of it.

Talk about awkward. This was the kind of thing she was bad at. When one of her teammates had broken up with her boyfriend, it had been the other girls who had comforted her and told her it was going to be ok. Sadako had just threatened to beat the crap out of him, which at least had gotten a laugh. She was pretty sure she couldn’t do that with a stranger – they might take her seriously.

Still, it was a little weird to just sit there and watch somebody cry…

“Er… are you going to be ok?”

Her voice caused the other girl’s head to pick up. Suddenly, she was swiping at her face as fast as she could, trying to make it seem like she was fine. When she finished, it was honestly remarkable. If not for the tears still sparkling in her eyes, she would have looked normal.

And familiar… did they go to the same school or something?

“I’m fine, really! Don’t worry about me!” She smiled, the gesture not quite reaching her eyes. “Wow, are you into kendo? You don’t see people dressed in hakama much these days!”

Sadako knew a feint when she saw one – the girl was trying to distract from the fact she was crying. Still, there were times that you let your opponent do what they needed to do. So she allowed a nod as she adjusted her gear.

“Yeah, I just came from the tournament being held at the high school.”

The girl nodded, her head reminding Sadako of a bobblehead that the shops sold. “That’s so cool! We have a kendo team at my school, but it’s all boys. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a girl’s kendo team! You must be really good!”

Sadako allowed another nod. “So I’m told. Are you going to be ok, though? It sounds like your friend was putting you through the ringer...”

It was the wrong thing to say. The smile evaporated from the girl’s face, and tears began to bud anew. Then they spilled down her face as she began to cry. Within seconds, she had grabbed onto Sadako and started crying into her shoulder.

Yeah… she should’ve kept walking.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do!” She hiccupped. “That was my third partner this semester who quit on me! The Fresh Idol Live is next week and I don’t have anyone else to form a Friends Unit with and I can’t do it on my own!”

Ah.

Sadako’s eyebrow twitched as she took in the girl crying into her kendo uniform. She recognized her now, having seen her posters on the wall in the shopping district or on her classmates’ phone screens as she passed. Haruka’s magazines even had a write up on her from the year prior, proclaiming her to be an idol to watch.

Weird how they hadn’t mentioned Maru was a crybaby, but she doubted an idol magazine would write about that.

“Didn’t realize you were an idol.” Sadako did her best not to scowl. “Doesn’t the Fresh Idol Live have a solo portion? You could still sign up for that if you can’t find someone to make a Friends unit with.”

It would probably be for the best. While she wasn’t an idol, she knew enough from her parents that Friends were serious business. You didn’t just form one – it came from learning about each other and realizing you clicked as a unit. It had taken her sister almost two years to find a Friend when she had been in middle school, and she had heard others taking longer.

Maru didn’t seem to have that, so going at it as a solo act would be her best bet to show off her skills.

Maru stepped back to scrub at her eyes with her sleeve. It was a miracle her makeup still looked good – maybe it was that waterproof stuff she had seen Haruka and her Friend modeling a few months back in winter. Hell if she knew, makeup wasn’t her thing.

“My routine is for two people, it would take too long to change the choreography for one person…” she sniffed. “You sure know a lot about idols though…”

Sadako cringed inwardly as she stepped back. “My sister’s into that stuff, I just picked it up second hand.”

Maru’s eyes were on her, though. She had shifted from bubbly idol to crying mess to almost scientist like so quickly that it made her head spin. Suddenly, running away sounded like a great idea. Who knew what the idol was thinking?

Who knew what idols were ever thinking, they were a damn mystery.

“You seem pretty fit now that I’m looking at you.” She wiped at her eyes, now dry. “And you’re pretty. I bet you could pick up the choreography in a week if we worked on it. We’d just need to get you an outfit…”

Sadako took another step back, eyes wide. “Whoa, whoa, slow down! I never said anything about wanting to get on stage with you, and I sure as hell don’t want to be an idol!”

She didn’t have time for it anyway – training was going to be picking up, and she had homework and other class duties. Idols required a lot of training, and she was already working hard at kendo. It just didn’t fit into her schedule.

Besides… she hated idols. It was because of her sister and her ilk that her parents never had time for her. Why the hell would she want to join up with them in the glittery hell world they lived in? It was downright madness.

“I think you’d be good at it.” Maru smiled. “Besides, you seem to know a lot about being an idol.”

Sadako scowled and crossed her arms over her chest. “Because I overhear stuff from my sister. There’s a world of difference between knowing a couple stats and actually getting on stage!”

She turned away, slinging her gear higher. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you. You should consider just doing the Fresh Idol Live solo.”

With that, she started to walk. However, Sadako found that she didn’t get far. An iron grip held fast to her sleeve, keeping her from getting too far. That grip belonged to the idol standing behind her, refusing to let go.

This was why she hated idols… they didn’t take no for an answer.

“Please, I need your help.” Her gaze softened. “My old partner is going to be at the show with her new Friend. I need to show her up for dumping me…”

…

As weird as it was, Sadako could respect her motivation. After all, she understood spite better than anyone. Problem was, there was a huge difference between understanding someone’s feelings and actually putting on a show.

“Look, I get wanting to shut somebody up, but do you seriously think you can do it with me? I don’t know anything about being an idol, I don’t even think I can sing.”

Maru’s burning eyes were on her. “I can teach you what you need to know in a week, I know I can! You just have to trust me.”

Sadako resisted the urge to groan. “You’re going to make an ass out of yourself, you know that right? Why not just show her up at the solo live?”

But she knew the answer before Maru even said it. It wouldn’t be enough to just be the best at a different event her former friend might see. She needed to dominate the competition and leave no room for doubt in anyone’s mind. If she was going to show up her old partner, she had to do it in the same event.

“It has to be the group live.” She squeezed. “Please… you can stop doing it after this show, I don’t care. But I need your help.”

And then she smiled. “And if it helps, a top idol named Haruka is going to be there, so maybe if you impress her, she might mention you on social media. It might get more people interested in kendo.”

…

Shit, that was right. Haruka was going to be at that one…

Sadako’s hand curled into a fist at her side at the mere thought of her sister. “Of course she’s going to be there.”

She was going to be there, watching. She’d have to pay attention then. Maybe she could even show her up…

Maru smiled at her reaction. “Sounds like you might have your own reason for wanting to show up then?”

“Screw her, I’m in.” She glared down the idol. “You better be serious about this teaching me thing. If I’m going to do this, I want to shut her up.”

The idol was beaming now. “Oh, don’t worry about that. You’ll be sore and exhausted, but I’ll make an idol out of you yet…”

And then she smiled awkwardly. “You know, I should probably get your name if we’re going to team up. I have to put it on the entrance form and all…”

…

Oh, right. Yeah, that made sense.

Despite everything, Sadako chuckled rather humorlessly as she stared over at her new temporary partner. She could feel in her bones it was going to be an exhausting week she would no doubt regret, but if it gave her the chance to show up her sister she would take it.

Who knows, maybe her parents would be there and she’d get a two-for-one special?

“My name’s Sadako.” She stuck out her hand. “Guess we’re working together this week?”

Maru smiled as she took the hand and shook it. “Looks like it. Nice to meet you, Sadako. You can call me Maru.”

And then she pulled her hand back in order to grab her cellphone. “Now, if you could give me your sns profile so I can friend you… ooh, and your cell number so I can send the training schedule over. I’m planning to start at 7 tomorrow…”

She kept going, Sadako being lost in the details as she stared blankly. Suddenly, that good feeling was gone, replaced with the dread that she had made a massive mistake. Still, there was no turning back now. She had made a promise, and she didn’t back down from those.

Besides, it was only for a week. How bad could it be?

#ramblinganthropologist's writing

[arumi-mangotroid]

more doodle dump

#touhou #東方 project #tsukasa kudamaki #alice margatroid #remilia scarlet #yukari yakumo #mai pc98 #patchouli knowledge #shinki #Arumi's art #I DID THESE AS REQUESTS TO BRIBE PEOPLE TO VOTE FOR THE RESULT I WANTED ON A TWITTER POLL AND I DID WAY MORE THAN I SHOW HERE #IT WAS SO PAINFUL #cries #the result i wanted did win though. always be on your grind or whatever those dumb instagram motivational pages say

[pa-panda-heroes]

Gimmie (a man after midnight)

Dabi x Female!Reader [NSFW] Songfic

Song: Abba - Gimmie! Gimmie! Gimmie!

Aha, I had a lot of fun writing this but it’s not quite what i envisioned, so I hope it turned out okay! :’>

Minors, DNI! Go. Away.

Warnings: alcohol, hookups, slight degradation, choking—Dabi’s belt, anyone? ;), unprotected sex, vaginal penetration, spanking, fairly rough sex ig?

Words: 2,739

Half past twelve And I’m watching the late show in my flat all alone How I hate to spend the evening on my own

You groaned, sprawled out across your sofa and terribly bored. You worked your ass off all week just to go out and have some fun with your girls over the weekend. But alas, they canceled on you, saying they were “busy” doing “adult things” and having “responsibilities.” Bleh! What the hell! You even text a few others not initially involved in your plans, but they let you down, too. That was fair, though. Your invitation was definitely last minute, so you couldn’t blame anyone.

Your eyes dart to the clock. It was still pretty early in the night, half past midnight. Your eyes narrow. You’re an adult, you’re fully capable of going out on your own, right? You wouldn’t look like a poor soul with no friends... right? Fuck it. You’ll leave your apartment all alone and gloomy, but who’s to say you won’t come back not alone?

You bolt off the couch so quickly you nearly lose yourself and slam into the floor, but you recover and make a run for your closet. You had your outfit planned out three days ago, so the agony of looking for what to wear and trying on who knows how many outfits and discerning what paired with what was already over with. You dress quickly and throw on your preferred method of makeup before doing your hair as you pleased for the occasion. You hum at yourself in your success and head out, heading to your previously chosen club.

Autumn winds Blowing outside my window as I look around the room And it makes me so depressed to see the gloom

As soon as you walk in, the air is dense and brimming with smoke and moisture. It’s darker than you expected, although the neon purple, blue, and red lights flashing all around you stood out more this way, looking more pleasing to the eye as a result. The music thrums loudly in your ears, the bass kicked up nearly to a teeth-chattering degree. The violin you could hear through it all sounded intense and emotional, the entirety of the song upbeat and fast and so adrenaline-inducing for your current emotional state.

The mixture that was your boredom and gloom followed you as though it were your shadow itself, trailing behind you with every intention to lunge out and strangle you as you passed through dancing and grinding bodies. One couple was more than happy to let you join between them. For a smooth, lascivious moment you did, letting the male stranger grab onto your waist and grind against you, his (apparent) girlfriend following suit at your front, but you decided alcohol would be a good start first.

There's not a soul out there No one to hear my prayer

Gimmie, gimmie, gimmie a man after midnight

On your way to the bar you just happen to glance through the crowd and meet the gaze of mesmerizing turquoise hues, captivating eyes which stood out like iridescent glimmers in a sea of pitch black after the sun hid itself away. Your step slows as you hold your gaze firm, your own smirk a clear contrast to the stoic features of his own. Bland and non-contorted as his face may be, you tell by the dark, predatory glimmer to his eyes that you’ve caught his attention.

Your favourite drink is ordered and fully downed in no time before you slither back into the cluster of sweat and saliva in favour of dancing your worries away.

Won't somebody help me chase the shadows away Gimmie, gimmie, gimmie a man after midnight

You bounce and move your hips with the music all by your little lonesome in the crowd, others in a situation similar to yours. Try and find those turquoise masters of your captivation as you might, the fiery enigma you saw earlier was nowhere to be seen.

You bite your lip and pout as you carry on your merry way. What a bore you think this night has ungraciously become, your hopes of finding a good time dwindling away like dust in the wind! You almost consider going back to your previous “dance buddies,” but before you can even stop dancing, hands slither onto your hips and torrid breath teases your ear.

“Lookin’ for me, doll?” you hear a smoky, smooth voice purr, and immediately you’re weak in the knees.

You jut your ass out against him, closing the already bare-minimum space between the two of you, courtesy of the stranger himself. “You tell me,” you tease, grinding against him and realizing he’s wearing a massive belt, and your mouth waters. “I’m just lookin’ for a good time.”

Take me through the darkness to the break of the day

A chuckle erupts from behind you, slow and sure, one of the hands on your hip slithering up your waist to ghost over your tit. “I think you’ve found it,” he whispers to you, a call for sex and detachment as his hand - much larger, lither, and bonier than you anticipated - roams your chest freely. He’s careful not to catch the staples holding together the flesh of his hand catch on your clothes where applicable.

It’s clear he’s not playing around, though it doesn’t matter, because neither are you.

You giggle and reach back around for his hair as he moves in sexual tandem with you, while your fingers glissade through strands of pure abyssal silk and latch on. “Do tell,” you taunt, grinding particularly slowly against him and trying to reach for his thigh with your free hand. You can’t help the bratty smirk that parts your lips.

“Here? Really?” he asks, though it’s clearly rhetorical. “You want other people to hear me tell you how I’m gonna pin you against a wall and fuck that tight pussy ‘til you can’t walk, do you?” His voice is deep and low, haunting, and appearances be damned. You’d fuck him just to hear his voice alone.

A shiver wracks your body, much to his pleasure.

Movie stars Find the end of the rainbow with a fortune to win It's so different from the world I'm living in

The stranger’s hand dips down and finds its way up your skirt, giving your asscheek a tight squeeze. “Wonder what they’d say if they heard me tell you I’m gonna wrap my belt around that pretty little neck so tight, I won’t even have to touch you to make you cum.”

“Oh, fuck.” The hiss that comes out of you is laced with a clear moan, and you bite your lip, the growing wetness devouring your lacy panties making itself fully known to you when your cunt clenches around nothing. “Hey, you got a name, stranger?” you breathe, resisting the urge to clench your teeth when his lips find your neck.

“Just Dabi,” you hear him mumble into your skin.

Oh, like the Dabi? The villain Dabi? The Dabi who could very well burn the place to the ground in a matter of minutes and laugh it off like he saw some corny joke graffiti’d on a sleazy bathroom stall?

Oh. Well, alright then. You’re not bothered by it. Seems like he actually just wanted a good fuck and who were you to blame him for it?

Tired of TV I open the window and I gaze into the night But there's nothing there to see no one in sight

“I’m y/n, but feel free to call me whatever the fuck you want.” You sigh, leaning back against him.

Dabi chuckles at you, finding what comes off as a willingness to please quite delicious, if he were being honest. “Let’s head out, then.”

“Patience is not your virtue, is it, Dabi?” you jive at him, the clear pinch on your ass telling you the comment was not appreciated. You giggle at that. “Alright, follow me?”

You grab his hand and drag him through the other patrons, walking by a particularly heated makeout session on the way out. You’re pretty certain the exit you take is supposed to be an emergency exit, but you don’t much care, and it’s not like going through the door set any alarms off or anything.

As soon as you’re out into the cold air he spins you around, quite aggressively stealing away your lips in a loveless kiss and feeling you up like his life depends on it. Your squeak is swallowed right up and you latch onto the lapels of his jacket. It’s now you realise his upper lip is too soft to even be legal, the scarred and marred lower lip, held together by hot staples, is so rough and hot. Fuck, what you wouldn’t do to feel the conflicting textures between your legs.

There's not a soul out there

Your tongue toys with his - rather, your tongue is toyed with - as his hips grind against your pelvis, the clear outline of his hard cock prominent against your clothed cunt, bringing you enough friction to moan unabashedly into his mouth. Dabi’s hand grabs onto of your hair and tugs your head back to break your lip lock with him so that he could plant hot, slow open-mouthed kisses and sucks all along your neck. Oh, the hickeys you’d have to cover up for work.

You sigh and bite your lip. Ignoring the hard concrete clawing away at your back while you fumble with unclasping his belt (you hoped his talk from earlier was bite and not bark), you try to free his dick from its denim confines, only for your hands to be swatted away.

“Hey,” he growls at you. “I didn’t say you could do that.”

“Who said I needed permission?” you sass, egging him on. Oh, you should’ve known better. Your mouth always got you in trouble no matter what aspect of life.

No one to hear my prayer

You hear him click his tongue at you before he spins you again, this time shoving the front of your body against the wall. One of his hands grabs the belt do your skirt and yanks your ass toward him, the other hand pushing forcefully at your neck, your cheek against whatever building lies in front of you. “Who said you could do whatever the fuck you want, brat?” Dabi snarls at you, and you gulp. The villain is quick to unfasten his belt and unzip his jeans to let his cock spring free, before your skirt is thrown over your hips to expose your favourite lacy panties, and Dabi lets out a low whistle, pulling them to the side and exposing your dripping cunt to him. “Not bad, y/n.”

Biting back sass, you instead jut your ass out against him.

“And you said I was impatient,” Dabi goads. “Here you are, drooling and ready for me to fuck you into next week, eh?”

Gimme, gimme, gimme a man after midnight Won't somebody help me chase the shadows away

Your resistance dies as you try to glare at him. “Shut your trap and fuck me already!” you hiss. “...or are you all bark and no bite, Dabi?”

A hard slap smacks into your asscheek and you yelp, though the soft kneading of the flesh pulls a whine out of you.

“Keep this up and you won’t cum, doll.”

“Hey-“

Dabi plunged his cock into you without warning, sheathing himself straight to the hilt in one push of his hips, and you gasp, not having the opportunity to adjust to his size or the piercings adorning his dick.

“Dabi, fuuuck.” Your fingernails claw at the concrete, sure to scratch them up and end up in plenty of tears down the line, but you don’t care. The barbells of his piercings and the utter girth of his cock fill you up so full you almost feel like you’re going to split in half. “So big...!”

“Real fuckin’ wet for me, aren’t you?” Dabi slowly draws his hips back and quickly fucks into you again, drawing a gasp from you as he then sets a steady pace thrusting into you. “And tight-“

You keen as his hips piston into yours repeatedly, one of his hands firmly grasping your hip enough to leave bruises, and you hear an unknown metal jingling about, though you realise exactly what he’s done when you feel tough, cool leather wrap around your throat. Your cunt clenches at the implication his belt brings. Dabi is quick to notice and leans down toward your ear to utter a single, gravelly word: “Slut.” He thrusts into you especially hard and fast as if to prove his point, and you cry out when he hits that spongey spot, your throat dry. You can hear the lewd squelching and erotic song of skin slapping against skin.

Gimme, gimme, gimme a man after midnight Take me through the darkness to the break of the day

The belt tightens around your neck so much that it deprives of you enough oxygen to reach utter bliss as he pounds into your cunt, your cheek getting scraped up from the friction of the concrete wall. Any attempt you make at saying anything amounts to nothing as you begin to feel lightheaded and filled with pure ecstasy, your eyes trying to roll back into your head and drool creeping out the corner of your mouth.

A choked gasp comes out of you when his hand smacks at your ass cheek again, then again, then again, slow kneading of the flesh following thereafter and lulling the sting away. You moan loudly at his ministrations, nearing the height of bliss. “What, are you a painslut, too?” he jabs, though you can’t respond, and so he does it again, coaxing a cry of pleasure and pain out of you and tears into your eyelids, threatening to overflow and stain your cheeks. Another slap has you cumming on his clock with little warning, Dabi’s groan behind you mixing with your mewls and squeals. “Fuck!” you hear him curse, and he doesn’t stop fucking your poor pussy even after you came down, throwing you into a state of whiny oversensitivity.

“Too mu-uuch!” is all you can manage through the hazy fog of bliss.

Dabi doesn’t seem to care and keeps pounding into you anyway, though he does go for a change in scenery as he pulls you upright by tugging back on the belt around your neck, pulling your back to his chest and giving him room to slip his hands to your cunt. You cry out and squirm when his digits begin rubbing fast circles on your clit, your fingers instinctively flying toward the belt and clawing at the leather as you gasp and keen away. Squirm and wiggle as you want, he holds you tight. Tears run down your cheeks and pressure in your abdomen builds, threatening to break away like a damn and letting the flood crash through. You cry out his name, though it only seems to egg him on and he pounds into you faster, fingers still abusing your puffy clit. Head foggy and mind hazy, you orgasm again already, and your cunt squeezes his cock again, clenching repeatedly as if to milk him for all he’s worth and coating him in your juices.

Gimme, gimme, gimme a man after midnight Won't somebody help me chase the shadows away

Dabi lets out a string of curses and loses the rhythm of his hips, his grunts fucking music to your ears. Begs and pleas filter out of you for no apparent reason as his hips keep slapping against yours, your sobs and moans filling the alleyway and reverberating off the walls.

“Fuck! Shit, shit, shit!”

Your clenching cunt hugging onto him like it does sends Dabi over the edge, and he cums inside of you, milky hot cum coating your fleshy walls, eliciting a blissed-out sigh from you as he finally stops fucking into you.

The pressure on your neck is alleviated and you fall back against him, legs weak and head spinning. Dabi nuzzles your ear with his nose, one hand still cupping your pussy and the other gripping your tit.

“Whaddya say we head back to my place, y/n?” he croons.

Gimme, gimme, gimme a man after midnight Take me through the darkness to the break of the day

#dabi #dabi x reader #dabi x reader smut #dabi smut #mha x reader smut #bnha x reader smut #mha smut #bnha smut #todoroki touya #todoroki touya x reader

[todoscript]

Syndicate —  [ 3 ]

parts: one | two | three

SUMMARY: The four of you arrive at Hatsume’s workshop, hoping to find some leads about the mysterious bullet you discovered in the aftermath of the scuffle against the Shie Hassaikai yakuza group.

genre: mafia au. pairing(s): mafiabosses!todobakudeku x fem!reader word count: 2.1k+ warnings: mature themes. mafia talk. crude language/cursing. future adult and violent scenes. polyamorous relationship. characters are aged-up. taglist: in reblogs. please ask if you would like to be included in the taglist for updates on future parts.

author’s note: oh my god, i am so sorry for the very long wait everyone! trying to crank this part out was a bit of a struggle with everything going on, but i’m glad it’s finally done! i initially planned to make this chapter a bit longer and continue on with some of the next section, but it made more sense to end it off here so the next part could be flushed out more on its own

Nothing but the grating sound of machinery sparking against each other fills the room the moment you walk into Hatsume’s workshop, located in the more uneventful parts of Tokyo, and away from the seeing eyes of the public. Your ears recoil at the noise; however, it is a cacophony of sounds you are used to, considering this is far from your first time here. Thus, it’s not so much a surprise, being greeted this way, though still jarring nonetheless.

Mei Hatsume is a woman who usually busies herself with work. Whenever she wasn’t occupied filling out a client’s order, such as creating the gadgets they requested necessary for certain heists, she was always active in coming up with new inventions—other gizmos to win people over. In turn, she managed to catch the three pairs of eyes that are responsible for overseeing the infamous Yuuei mafia. Before long, the syndicate had become one of her most frequent and loyal clients due to her high-quality skills and work ethic. 

Your three men are in tow behind you when you enter, following in not only your steps but your strained expression over the racket.

“Hatsume!” you shout out to try and capture the girl’s attention, being that her eyes are covered in her dense, protective goggles to even see the four of you coming.

Far too engrossed in her work, her nonchalant hums in between her buzzing equipment indicate that she isn’t going to notice you anytime soon. Knowing this, Bakugou grits his teeth out of annoyance and marches past you.

“Hey Goggle-Head!!”

Unsurprisingly, his yell is garishly loud and is enough to cut through the jarring grinding of the machines and reach Hatsume’s ear. Bakugou does prefer to take a strident approach to things after all. And today especially, he isn’t in the mood to wait around.

“Bakugou. That was unnecessary,” Todoroki says, side-eyeing his partner for his boisterous attitude.

“It was totally necessary, Icy-Hot,” the blonde retorts.

Hatsume soon stops what she’s doing and finally brings the noise to a halt. Lifting her bulky steampunk goggles from her eyes, she properly greets her guests.

“Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite clients!” Her tone is welcoming and chipper, despite the somewhat rude awakening courtesy of the blonde. “What can I help the four of you with today? Perhaps in need of some more firepower for your men? Hmm?” Hatsume wiggles her brows—a crafty gesture she usually gives to entice her customers while flaunting some incredibly elaborate contraption of hers in her arms. Midoriya declines with a shake of his head, waving a hand out.

“No, we’re fine with all the equipment you’ve provided our group with so far, Hatsume. They’ve been working wonders for us,” he says kindly.

“Especially that earring from the other night.” You join in the praises, and Hatsume readily eats them up as her yellow eyes begin to sparkle.

“Ah, the teardrop earring, I presume? As expected, I knew that particular item would perform excellently, what with its compact size and design to elude suspicion, along with its vast set of features—”

“Come on, quit yapping already! We’re here for business, not to give our fucking reviews,” Bakugou dispels the girl’s incessant ramblings with his ill-tempered tone.

Todoroki steps forward, following in the blonde’s approach. “He’s right. Excuse us, Hatsume, but we wanted to ask you about something we encountered last night,” he explains, hand digging into his coat pocket to procure the ziploc bag containing their item of inquiry—the bullet.

Your hands glow magenta; your quirk lifts the bullet from the plastic and into the air to prevent Hatsume from needing to touch it directly for examination. As it hovers in front of her, Hatsume’s eyes start to gleam a brighter amber yellow inactivation of her quirk, allowing her to scrupulously inspect every detail down to even smidgen of a scratch.

A few hums leave her lips the more she tilts her head at the object, index finger steady beneath her chin.

“Well?” you ask, a tad impatient for answers as are the other three. Hatsume gives the bullet one last look before turning to you, a somewhat uncertain look on her face.

“Just who did you retrieve this bullet from?”

“A henchman from the Shie Hassaikai yakuza fired this at us last night while we were in a scuffle with them,” Todoroki answers with Midoriya continuing.

“We managed to avoid getting hit by it thanks to a comrade of ours.”

“Hah, as if those jokers could pose even a threat to us with flimsy weapons like these.” Bakugou punctuates with his arrogant poise, and you playfully roll your eyes at his comment before returning to the situation at hand.

“Still, for us to not recognize something as ordinary as a bullet like this is concerning, adding onto the fact they were willing to use this instead of facing them head-on with their quirks,” you add. There’s a silence lingering in the air at your words, but it eventually isn’t long until Hatsume says her piece. 

“Well, after seeing this, I suppose the talk going around the crime groups is true after all.”

The four of you exchange peculiar looks, inquisitive at the mention of such “talks”.

“What ‘talk’?” Midoriya asks, voice dipping low for his standards.

Taking a seat at her workbench while facing her four guests, Hatsume’s expression grows unusually serious.

“Some of my clients have spoken about some shady business going on in the underground recently.”

“Shady business?” Bakugou repeats vehemently, eyebrow quirked.

“This is the first I’ve heard of this,” Todoroki comments, growing wary at the shift in the situation.

“We practically have total control of the black market on the east side of Japan. What shit could be going on under our fucking radar?” The blonde’s eyes flare a menacing red over the news.

“To begin,” Hatsume continues, “my clients have spoken about a new weapon being spread around amongst many criminal gangs. It’s no surprise you haven’t heard of it actually. The ones producing them have made sure to evade the gaze of your mafia group by offering them to those in the west, and have only recently moved to the east.”

“They didn’t want us to intervene and mess with their steady business on the black market, I’m assuming,” you add, and Hatsume nods at your conjecture.

“Likely. Anyways, this weapon didn’t seem like a big deal at first. Just some talk about a bullet similar to the one here.” Hatsume gestures to the transparent bag. “But a bit of prodding later, I learned that the contents inside the bullet actually contain a drug created by a scientist, which was forcibly taken by the Shie Hassaikai yakuza.”

Midoriya, Bakugou, and Todoroki are immediately attentive at the name, their expressions soon altering into revulsion as if a vile stench had suddenly wafted into the air, turning the atmosphere sour.

“So the yakuza made out with some stolen research and are mass producing these bullets onto the black market behind our backs, correct?” Todoroki relays the info with malice prevalent in his timbre.

“Those fuckers. Thinking they can do whatever the fuck they want, huh?” Bakugou’s teeth grit at every word uttered under his breath, fists clenching together. “They’re asking for it now.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Kacchan. We’ll make sure each and every one of them is delivered the punishment they deserve.” Midoriya joins his fellow mafia bosses in the menacing pressure exuding from them. His smile is far from genuine—two-faced with intense animosity emanating from just a simple glance.

Having been by their side through situations similar to this level of tension, you’re very much used to witnessing these expressions painted on each of their faces—such as a time when their shipment of goods came far delayed due to a few lackeys’ miscalculations. In turn, Yuuei had lost a bit of time in their well thought out schedule, which was something Deku, Ground Zero, and Mercury were not at all happy about as they thrived on pure efficiency. To make the story short, those henchmen had received a rather brutal ending for their errors when the three were done with them.

Since then, the trio have let it become a lesson learned not to rely on a bunch of simpletons to carry out such important tasks. As a result, the mafia group had become more efficient from then on out, now centering around your smaller group of elites in the aftermath of the events.

You have to admit, seeing the three so riled up is quite attractive in your eyes. They were already charismatic on their own—being in their presence gave you a very tasteful glance of their domineering aura. But in action, that charisma somehow manifested many times stronger, and when in pursuit with such determination in hand, it felt like they could do just about anything they set their minds to.

However, there are times when you knew you needed to step forward and become their sense of reasoning, lest they walk through fog with no sense of direction. Now is one of those times.

“Well, to start, we need some leads.” You join in, and the three turn to you, ready for what their right-hand woman has to say. “Hatsume, do you know what the drug does?”

The girl shakes her head, much to your dismay, but offers a hunch. “I can only assume it must disrupt the body in some way on contact.”

“It’s a good thing Kacchan didn’t get hit by it then,” Midoriya comments.

“Shut up, Deku.” Bakugou harshly jabs his elbow into the young man’s sides, annoyed.

“Now’s not the fucking time.”

“Right, right… My apologies…” Midoriya replies, holding no ill will at his partner, despite his rough demeanor. The trivial exchange between the two quickly ceases. You decide to resume your questions directed at the craftswoman.

“Alright then… How about the scientist that created the drug? Do you have any info on them?”

Musing in thought, Hatsume’s eyes draw to the ceiling as she rummages through her head to recollect her memories.

“Hmm… What I have heard is that the yakuza had infiltrated a place located in the corner of Kamino Ward in Yokohama to obtain the drug.”

“So that must be where this scientist’s laboratory or base of operations must be then. Kamino Ward.” Todoroki guesses and the girl gives him a brief nod.

“Then that’s where we’re going next. We’re gonna find this scientist and get the info we need, even if we need to beat it out of them!” Bakugou exclaims, voice thundering throughout the workshop as his palm emits a small, concentrated burst of fire while coming in contact with his fist. “Not a single one of those half-rate yakuza asswipes are getting away, pulling this shit on us.”

“Though I have to warn you,” Hatsume interrupts forebodingly as a shadow casts over her features, “there have been rumors of people disappearing around those parts.”

You lift a brow, suspicious at the meaning behind those claims.

“Disappearing?”

“That’s right. Anyone that so much as approaches that area ends up poofing out of existence.” She emphasizes this notion by springing her arms outward. 

“Oh? Sounds a bit… far-fetched.” you reason, adamant on the idea that no such thing could happen without natural causes. After all, quirks are biological phenomena. Nothing as supernatural as disappearing from existence should be occurring, right?

“No, Angel Face, it sounds more than just far-fetched. It’s more like a load of bullshit to me,” Bakugou chimes in, bolstering your doubt against it.

“Probably something stirred up to keep people off this scientist’s back,” Midoriya speculates. “He’s already had his research stolen from him. I’m sure he wouldn’t want a repeat of that.”

As he appears behind you, Todoroki lays a hand on your shoulder reassuringly. “Even if something like that is true, I doubt it could truly pose a threat against us, considering who we are.” His hand dips down to find yours before lifting it above your shoulder to lay a quick kiss on your fingertips. You smile at both his words and his touching gestures.

Ignoring the affectionate display, the girl only shrugs. “That’s what I’ve been hearing is all, but I suppose you could take it with a grain of salt.”

Despite the ominous admonition, Midoriya gives Hatsume a grin before reaching into the pocket of his coat. “Thank you for the warning, Hatsume,” he sets a wad of cash down on the workbench in front of her, “along with the valuable set of information. We’ll be sure to put everything you told us to good use.”

She returns the smile, fingers curling around the stack furtively. “Well, a pleasure doing business with you, Yuuei. And remember, my services will always be available to you when you need it.”

“Dutifully noted.”

#bnha x reader #todoroki x reader #bakugou x reader #midoriya x reader #mha x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #bnha imagine #bakugou imagine #todoroki imagine #midoriya imagine #bakugo x reader #shouto x reader #izuku x reader

[taephilia]

carnival lights

part of @jamaisjoons​ summer bucketlist writing event!

pairing: kim taehyung x fem!reader (feat. the rest of bts + a guest appearance)

genre: haunted carnival au, college au, horror/thriller, fluff, suggestive content

word count: 6,984

warnings: marijuana use, alcohol consumption, swearing, suggestive content (making out, grinding, hickeys, hair pulling, praise kink, degradation, dirty talk), breaking and entering, blood mention

summary: with half of your friend group graduated and leaving your hometown to move to the city for work, you and your friends decide to have one last adventure together (in the words of hobi even though it’s only may and you see each other like every day). but things are always different in the nighttime and you never know what’s lurking between the funnel cakes.

a/n: tysm to solaris for coming up with this writing event!! this was really fun for me to do because it’s very different from what i usually write. this was supposed to go up at the beginning of august but life became really crazy for me starting mid-july lmao. better late than never i guess but so sorry for the late upload. hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! :-)

When you finally arrive at your childhood home, you’re not at all surprised to see 2 cars parked in front of your house and your group of friends sprawled out on your front lawn, all of them laughing and smiling as they wait for you. You were the last of your friends to get home after finishing your second year of university (shoutout to your organic chemistry professor for having a final exam on a Saturday) and you were lucky you didn’t get pulled over because of how eager you were to get home. It was a tough semester and you really need to not think about school for a few months. You wave at the boys through the car window when they see you pull into your driveway, all of them running over to greet you before you’ve even had a chance to get out of your car.

Jimin is the first to greet you as he practically pulls you out of the vehicle to wrap his arms around you. His sounds of excitement make you laugh as you pat his back. “It’s nice to see you too, Jimin,” you say to him, laughing harder when he starts to shake you back and forth from just how happy he is to see you.

Hoseok hugs you next, and you only have a few seconds after Jimin has released you before you’re swallowed up in another bear hug. This one is a bit tighter and you feel the breath get knocked out of you as the older boy whines, “(Y/N), I missed you so much! I’m already sick of the guys so thank goodness you’re finally home!”

“Good to know that the feeling is mutual then,” Yoongi says as he pulls you out of Hoseok’s grip. You’re enveloped in a much looser, but still just as warm, hug and you wrap your arms around the male’s waist, the first of your friends that you choose to hug back (well, more like the first of your friends who didn’t trap your arms to your sides, thus allowing you to hug them back). Also just because it’s Yoongi.

Seokjin and Namjoon both greet you with a “Welcome home” and hugs of their own and you have to stop yourself from burying your face in their chests because of how much they smell like home. Namjoon even pats your head while he hugs you and a chuckle escapes you at that; he must have really missed you.

Jungkook practically tackles you as he runs up and scoops you up into his arms, swinging you around as he cackles maniacally. As excited as you are to see him, you’re not exactly sure why he’s laughing like that and frankly, you’re too scared to ask. You’ve known Jungkook the longest out of the 7 of them and you know that that laugh means bad news. You’re gonna have to ask him what he’s been scheming about later.

“Can I please hug my girlfriend now?” Taehyung asks, the exasperation in his voice contrasting with the huge grin on his face. He’ll let the guys have their time now because now that you’re home, you’re all his for the next couple of months. Jungkook lets out an exaggerated vomiting sound while he puts you down, the rest of the boys already opening up your car to help you unload your things while you approach your boyfriend with heart eyes. 

“Hey there, stranger,” you greet him and you can’t help but let out a relieved sigh when he finally wraps his arms around you to pull you into a hug. Going to different universities along with having packed schedules kept you and Taehyung apart for longer than you liked, another reason for your eagerness to get home after your last final this morning. Standing here with his arms around you, his scent invading your senses, his warmth seeping through your clothes—it’s everything you’ve ever wanted. 

“Please don’t have a busy semester like that ever again,” he says quietly, his cheek resting against the top of your head as he rubs his hands up and down your back. “I nearly died because I couldn’t see you as often as I wanted to.”

“Same goes for you then,” you retort as you pull your head away from his chest to look up at him with narrowed eyes. “I wasn’t the only one with a busy semester, Mr. TA-with-2-Jobs. You’re also at fault here.”

Taehyung is about to reply but is interrupted by Jimin physically separating the two of you so that Seokjin and Yoongi could place boxes into your hands. “You two are also at fault for just standing there making goo-goo eyes at each other while the rest of us unload the car,” Jimin scolds you guys as he rolls his eyes. The three of them all but push you towards your front door, your family watching in amusement from inside. “Get a move on, lovebirds, I want to go to 7-11 after this for some ramen before I get hangry.”

“You did not just suggest that,” Seokjin groans, interrupting Hoseok after only one sentence. “I can’t believe you really said that.”

The 8 of you are sitting on the curb outside of a 7-11 eating your respective dinners, the buzzing of the neon sign and the chatter from people walking providing nice background noise for your first hangout of the summer. You stifle your laughter by shoving more noodles into your mouth, while Taehyung and Jungkook do nothing to silence theirs beside you. 

“There’s nothing wrong with going to the carnival, we go every year!” Hoseok protests. Well, more like whines, to be honest. Using that tone of voice usually worked in his favor but Seokjin’s unamused expression didn’t seem to be leaving his face any time soon. 

“That’s the point, we go every year,” Namjoon points out, pointing his chopsticks at Hoseok for emphasis. “Dude, we just graduated from college, don’t you think we’re a little old to be going to our town’s carnival?”

“Besides, it’s not even good anymore,” Yoongi says through a mouthful of noodles. “They’ve been getting rid of the good rides so the only fun part about it is the funnel cake and I guess the Ferris wheel if you’re into that.” 

Jungkook lets out a sound of protest, holding up a finger to signal to the others to wait for him while he chews before speaking. “I actually took my younger cousins there at the beginning of the week and the rides look pretty cool this year.”

Hoseok looks smug after that, resulting in Yoongi muttering, “Who’s side are you even on?” You let out a laugh at that, you can’t help it. “Regardless,” he says loudly, chopsticks waving in the air as he glares at his friend. “We’re too old to go, the tickets are overpriced, and the food is too expensive for how trashy it is. We’re not going.”

Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook all protest at that and you let out a sigh as you watch the younger ones (plus Hoseok) argue with the older boys. Your first day back and they’re already fighting over something dumb. “The four of you are leaving us in August, don’t you want to stick to tradition one last time before you go off into the adult world?” Jimin argues, and you raise an eyebrow at that, your eyes glancing at the older boys who seem to deflate a little at his words. They always get soft whenever someone brings up some sentimental crap like that.

“This will be the last time that we go,” Taehyung offers, and you notice Hoseok trying to hide his smirk as the younger boy talks. The two of you make eye contact and he winks at you, both of you knowing that he’s probably going to win this. “One last time for all 8 of us to pretend like we’re still in high school-”

“Who the fuck wants to pretend like they’re still in high school?” Jungkook interrupts, causing you to smack his arm. “Sorry for interrupting, but that place was a nightmare.”

Your boyfriend acknowledges his words with a nod before continuing. “One last time for all of us to pretend like we’re still young and have nothing to care about. Like we're not entering the adult world soon, some of us sooner than others, and all we have to worry about is having enough gas in our cars to get to where we want to go and not getting arrested for whatever we do.”

There’s silence after that as everyone mulls over those words while they eat. You, Jimin, Jungkook, and Hoseok know that Taehyung essentially has the rest of them right where he wants them so you just wait for them to say something.

It’s Namjoon who breaks the silence first. “You know, I hate it when you guys get all soft like that.”

With the amount of shit that you get into whenever you’re with Jungkook, you sometimes forget that he’s actually loaded (but it’s because he’s loaded that he feels the need to cause trouble wherever he is at every single possible second). So every time he invites you to hang out at his house, you can’t help but feel excited to experience even a smidge of the life of luxury that Jungkook gets to experience every day. 

And luxury it is.

It’s mid-day and you’re hanging out in Jungkook’s backyard while he’s at the grill making some food with Jin, you and Taehyung sprawled out on one another on a couch as you pass a joint back and forth. Empty bottles of beer and cans of White Claw are scattered around while the handles of harder alcohol are resting in the shade, waiting to be consumed at a more appropriate time. Namjoon and Yoongi are floating around in the pool, their shades on as they indulge in the feeling of being crossed while in the cold water. This is exactly what you were looking forward to.

Taehyung’s right hand gently runs up and down your shin as he hums along to whatever song Jungkook is playing on his speaker, his left hand holding the smoldering joint over an ashtray before bringing it to his lips. He inhales the smoke and you watch as his chest rises to allow it to settle in his lungs before he slowly blows it out in your face. 

“That wasn’t very nice,” you shake your head as you fan the smoke out of your face. Your eyes are dry enough as it is. 

Your boyfriend simply smiles widely at you before tugging at your ankle, sliding closer to you and pulling you closer to him so that he could situate you on his lap. He places the joint in your fingers, murmuring, “Finish it,” and watches with rapt attention as you bring it up to your lips. You inhale for a few seconds, the warmth from the smoke tickling your throat and almost causing you to cough but you fight it as you let it settle in your lungs while the joint falls from your fingertips and into the ashtray. You’re about to blow out the smoke when you feel Taehyung’s fingers on your chin, his lips on yours before you could even process what’s happening. His tongue swipes along your lower lip and you open your mouth to release the smoke into his own, a whimper escaping you when his hold on your hip tightens. Taehyung pulls away from you as he inhales, his pupils blown wide before they disappear behind a cloud of smoke.

Taehyung is about to pull you in for another kiss, your eyes almost closed as you lean closer to him, when you feel cold water get splashed on you and you gasp loudly. Goosebumps rise on your skin as you look for the culprit, your eyes narrowing on Jungkook who was standing beside the pool with a water gun in his hands. “Stop making out in front of us, it’s gross!” he exclaims while shooting the two of you a couple more times. 

“You little bitch-!” you say menacingly as you begin to get up from Taehyung’s lap. You don’t get far though because your boyfriend is already pulling you back down as Jungkook scrambles back to the grill to hide behind Seokjin. There’s a smirk on your face as you stare at him and you swear that you see him gulp. Serves him right.

Namjoon and Yoongi tease the youngest for being so scared of you as they clamber out of the pool, their eyes looking more alert as they make their way over to you and Taehyung. “It’s time to roll another one, I’m coming down,” Yoongi announces as he takes a seat next to you and you grin widely as he opens up the grinder. 

“You know, I’ve only ever seen you this excited when it comes to weed, sangria, and d-”

You clap your hand over Taehyung’s mouth before he can finish his sentence, smiling at him sweetly while your friends just try to stifle their laughter as they roll up a couple more joints. “Are you sure you want to finish that sentence, babe?”

Taehyung bites the palm of your hand in retaliation before tightly wrapping his arms around you, rocking you back and forth as he coos, “Is my baby embarrassed? You don’t want the boys to know how good I-”

“I’m getting some water!” you exclaim as you jump up, forcing Taehyung’s hands to fall into his lap as he laughs loudly at how embarrassed you look. “Does anyone want some? I’m going inside to get some.”

All of the boys raise their hands so Taehyung gets up from his spot on the couch as well to offer his help. As soon as he shuts the door to the backyard after you two are inside, you have a feeling that something is up, especially when you think you hear him chuckle darkly behind you. He’s right on your heels as you make your way to the kitchen and when you feel a tug at the back of Taehyung’s your shirt, you realize that your boyfriend has stopped you. He backs you up against the island in the center of the kitchen, his hands placed on either side of you to trap you, and you can’t help but look away as he stares down at you with a smirk playing on his lips.

“Been dying to kiss you, sweetheart,” he mumbles as one of his hands reaches up to touch your face, his thumb rubbing over your cheekbone. “That one from before just wasn’t enough.”

Taehyung leans down to press his lips to yours, and even though you know that it’s a combination of the feeling you get from kissing your boyfriend and the feeling of being high, you swear that there’s electricity running through your veins. Your hands grip his biceps and you whimper when you feel a hand on your ass, squeezing it and bringing you closer to his body. You feel your knees buckle when he pulls away from your mouth only to kiss and bite at your neck, the thought of marks on your skin causing you to feel even more tingly. 

“Please,” you whisper as you card your fingers through his hair. “Taehyung.”

Taehyung stops and looks at you, an amused look on his face as he takes in just how desperate you look for him. “Please what?” he teases you, head tilting to the side as you huff in annoyance. You’re so cute.

“Please kiss me,” you pout. And with the way that you’re looking at him, so desperate for him just to kiss you, who is Taehyung to deny you that?

He presses a quick kiss to your lips and laughs when you lean forward more as he leans away. “If Jimin and Hoseok aren’t here in the next few minutes, we’re going home so I can do more than just kiss you,” he tells you, and God, even though he has to fight down all of the dirty thoughts are coming to mind about just what exactly he wants to do to you, he can’t help but think that the excited look on your face is absolutely adorable.

Taehyung spoke too soon though because just as he’s about to continue your little makeout session, you hear the door to the backyard open, followed by Seokjin yelling at the two of you, “Jimin and Hobi are here!”

And Jungkook, always a fan of getting on your nerves whenever he can, continues with, “You guys better not be fucking in the kitchen, those are new countertops! Did you even get the water?”

When you and Taehyung come back outside with eight water bottles, the urge to throw them at your friends is overwhelming as they whoop and holler at you. You reach up to try to cover the marks on your neck with your hair but this just brings closer attention to them. “For the record, we didn’t actually do anything so get your minds out of the gutter, you fucking pervs,” you sneer as you hand out the water.

“I’m sure they’re just jealous because it’s not their necks covered in marks,” Taehyung shrugs, walking away from Namjoon just as he chokes on his water from the younger boy’s words. 

“Dude, why do you always have to make it weird?” Jimin mutters as he shakes his head at his best friend. “Anyways, Hoseok and I have an announcement so put your cell phones on silent and shut your fucking mouths. The show is about to begin.”

You raise an eyebrow at that as Seokjin attempts to stop himself from laughing. Always one for the theatrics, that Park Jimin. Hoseok clears his throat and takes a small step forward to gain everyone’s attention.

“We’re going to the carnival tonight.”

Taehyung’s hand squeezes your thigh reassuringly as Jungkook and Jimin struggle to converse over the loud music. Why Jungkook can’t just lower the music considering the fact that you’re all in his car is beyond you. You’re more than used to the antics that you and your friends tend to pull every summer but a part of you is wondering if you’re taking it a bit too far this time. You pull into the dirt parking lot right next to Jin’s car and you’re not surprised to see skeptic looks that match yours on Seokjin’s and Namjoon’s faces.

“Why the fuck do you have that?” Yoongi practically yells as he looks down at what Jimin’s holding, prompting you to shush him. 

“They’re just bolt cutters, dude, relax,” Jimin shrugs and your eyes dart down to his hands to see that he is in fact holding bolt cutters. “This is for our backup plan.”

“Wh-“

“Yoongi, if you don’t wanna get caught, then keep your fucking voice down,” you hiss at him. “The entire town will know we’re here because of how loud you’re being.”

“Can someone please explain to me what the hell our so-called ‘plan’ is?” Namjoon whispers loudly, his eyes narrowing on Hoseok presumably because this was his idea in the first place. “Because I haven’t felt confident about it since literally all you fucking said was ‘I know a guy’.”

“If it makes you feel better, you know him too,” Hoseok shrugs, and just as Namjoon opens his mouth to say something, another pair of headlights passes over you guys. You all watch silently as a very expensive car drives into the parking lot, and even though all of the windows are up, you can still hear the loud thumping of the bass before the driver turns the engine off. 4 people exit the car, none of whom you recognize, but based off of Namjoon’s barely hidden annoyance, Hoseok was telling the truth and he does know them.

“Kim Namjoon!” the driver exclaims after greeting Hoseok with one of those bro handshakes, making you wince at the loud volume. Did none of them understand that you all are about to commit a crime? “Didn’t think I would be seeing you so soon after graduation. Did you miss me?”

“Considering the fact that I woke up to you asleep on my bathroom floor because Hoseok had to bring your drunk ass home with him the night before my 9am graduation when your frat had a party, I’m gonna have to say no,” Namjoon replies drily, and you have to stifle your laughter at that. You’ve never heard him speak like that to anyone except maybe Jungkook and Seokjin, he’s always polite and nice, so this is very different. You can’t say you blame him though, the guy does kind of look like a douche.

The douche in question laughs at his statement before his eyes rove over your friend group, only to stop at you. “And who’s this?” he asks, voice piquing in interest. “You never mentioned a girl to me, Hoseok.”

You cross your arms over your chest as Taehyung snorts beside you. “That’s because he has no reason to. So are you the guy that’s going to unlock the gate for us or are we just going to stand here and talk in the dark for another 5 minutes?”

“The name’s Jackson, sweetheart,” the guy smirks as he walks right up to you to dangle what you assume are keys for the entire amusement park in your face. “Jackson Wang. And don’t you forget it.”

“I’m not really good with names but my boyfriend is,” you shrug as you point at Taehyung who drapes an arm over your shoulders. “So I’m sure he’ll remember, right Tae?”

Taehyung smiles beside you, but it’s more like he’s baring his teeth at the guy, and both yours and Jackson’s friends snicker as the two of you watch him slowly walk over to the gate in a stunned silence. The lock opens with a click and you all follow him in, watching as he turns some of the lights on and then gives Hoseok a copy of the keys.

“You guys have one hour,” he explains as he hands them over. “If you’re not at the gate by then, then we’re leaving and you guys get to deal with whatever trouble finds you. Got it?”

“Yes sir!” Taehyung and Jimin exclaim at the same time and you smack both of them when you see them saluting Jackson. 

The frat boy merely rolls his eyes at their antics as he unlocks the gate, all of you shuffling forward hesitantly as he swings open the gate and leads you all inside. He tells you all to wait while he goes off somewhere and you can’t help but clutch Taehyung’s hand a little bit tighter as you stand there in the dark. You’re not a believer in the supernatural per se but you’re not about to hang out in a dark amusement park long enough to find out. Suddenly, the flood lights come on, the harsh white light driving away any shadows that may have been lingering.

“Go crazy,” you hear Jackson say and you turn around to see him waving you off. “But not too crazy because if you guys break something, then I’ll kill you.”

Him and his friends go off while you and your friends decide where you should go first. You’re about to nod along to Jungkook’s suggestion of finding some leftover funnel cakes when you feel a tug at your arm. Taehyung pulls the two of you a few feet away from your friends with a wide grin on his face, leaning closer to you before whispering, “Wanna ditch them and go make out in the Tunnel of Love?”

You roll your eyes at that but a matching grin appears on your face. “You’re so fucking cheesy. Fine, let’s go.”

You allow your boyfriend to pull you along eagerly, both of you snickering to yourselves as you break away from your friends. A noise of disgust leaves your mouth as you glance at the murky water, the abandoned pink gondolas looking almost sad as you pass by them in favor of entering the tunnel on foot. There’s no light aside from the ones outside but you guess that that’s the point as Taehyung pushes you up against the wall and presses his body against yours. He tilts your chin up so that you have no choice but to look at him and even in the darkness, you can see the glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Been wanting to do that since you talked back to that Jackson guy earlier,” he hums, head ducking down to press a kiss to your jawline and then another to your cheek. “You’re really cute when you’re mad, you know that?”

Taehyung presses his mouth against yours harshly as his hands travel down to your hips to bring them even closer to his. You whimper as you wrap your arms around his neck, fingers finding their way into his hair before softly tugging at the strands. You’re usually not one for making out in public but there’s something about making out with your boyfriend in an empty amusement park at night that sends just the tiniest bit of adrenaline through your veins. A gasp escapes your mouth when you feel him grab at your ass roughly, kneading it with the palm of his hand as the other lightly traces up and down your side. You can feel him getting hard against your thigh and just the thought his cock is enough for you to let out a moan against his lips.

“Dirty girl,” he chastises you when he pulls away, only to duck down to kiss and bite at the skin on your neck. “You’re being so loud, you want someone to catch us? You want one of the guys to walk in and see you like this?”

“Sorry,” you apologize, eyelids fluttering when he wraps a hand around your throat and applies just the slightest bit of pressure. “I was just-”

“Thinking about my cock?” Taehyung interrupts, finishing your sentence for you. Your eyes fly open to meet his and there’s a smirk on his face that tells you that he knew exactly what you were thinking about. “You can feel it against your thigh, right? How bad do you want it, baby?”

His hands slide under your shirt to toy with your nipples over the fabric of your bra and your breath hitches in your throat. You think you can hear Namjoon’s excited yelling from outside but you're too far lost in how good Taehyung is making you feel to care. “Want it so bad,” you whisper, biting down on your lower lip when he brings a hand down to cup your heat. “Wanna choke on it, get it so fucking wet with my mouth.”

He rubs at your clit through your cotton shorts and based off of how wet you feel right now, you know that your panties are probably ruined. Taehyung shifts so that his thigh is now pressed up against your pussy and you let out another moan from the pressure on your clit. Your hands come up to grab at his shoulders as he steadies you with his own on your hips, dark eyes looking down at you with lust as he licks his lips. “Feels good, huh?” he teases you as he presses you down harder against his thigh. “Why don’t you get yourself off for me, sweetheart. Grind against my thigh until you make yourself come and then I’ll reward you with my cock.”

You nod along eagerly at his words, your hips moving against him before he even reached the end of his sentence. Pleasure courses through your veins as you grind against Taehyung’s thigh, unable to control the noises that are leaving your mouth. But after a particularly loud moan, you feel your boyfriend’s hand wrap around your throat again before squeezing as a warning. “You’re being so loud, baby,” he mumbles as he leans forward to press more kisses to your cheek. “I thought you were my good girl, that you knew how to stay quiet. And only good girls get to feel good...”

“I’ll be quiet,” you say, and the pleading look on your face is enough to make his cock stir in his pants. “I promise I won’t make any more noise, please just let me come.”

Taehyung’s hand comes up to rest against your cheek, thumb stroking at your cheekbone softly and your movements against his thigh stutter at the gentle gesture. “Since you asked so nicely,” he concedes just before flexing his thigh muscles under you.

You clap your hand over your mouth to stop the gasp that you were about to let out, eyes never leaving Taehyung as your hips speed up. Your other hand comes up to grab at his bicep, squeezing tightly as you listen to his words of encouragement.

“There’s my good girl,” he coos, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. “Always so eager to please, you want my cock in your mouth so bad, don’t you? I know you do, baby girl, because you fucking love it. You love choking on this big, thick cock, right? Gagging on it and being so fucking sloppy with it. My little cockslut-”

Taehyung’s dirty whispers are cut off by the lights coming off and the theme music of the ride blaring through the speakers, and you swear your heart almost jumps out of your chest. Any pleasure that you felt is immediately replaced with shock and fear as your boyfriend pulls you closer out of instinct. The two of you look around before running out quickly, the music fading as you stand a few yards away from the ride. Annoyance overcomes your boyfriend’s face when his eyes land on something—or rather, someone. You look over and see Jimin and Hoseok standing at a nearby food truck eating cotton candy and laughing their asses off, words not even escaping them from how hard they’re laughing.

“You guys are fucking assholes, you know that?” Taehyung yells as you both walk over to them. His hand squeezes yours when he feels you still shaking slightly beside him, and he pulls you closer for good measure. “You scared the shit out of us!”

“W-What?” Jimin stutters, unable to properly form words around his laughter. He wipes tears away from his eyes as Hoseok breathes deeply next to you to get himself to calm down. “What are you talking about?”

“Fuck off, Jimin,” you say dismissively with a roll of your eyes. “We know it was the two of you, you were standing here laughing your asses off about it when we ran out. If you’re gonna pull some shit like that, either don’t stick around or act cool if you’re gonna stand there.”

“Seriously, we have no idea what you guys are talking about,” Hoseok protests, still sounding like he’s on the verge of tears as he gets the last of his laughter out. “We literally just got here and the ride was on when we ran by. I didn’t even know where you guys were until just now.”

“Maybe it was Jackson and his friends,” Jimin offers, but Hoseok shakes his head beside him. “Well it can’t have been the others, they’re on the Gravitron right now. Joon and Yoongi are probably close to puking their guts up right now because they smoked just before they went on.”

An image of the small, dark, spinning room pops up into your mind with puke splattered along the walls and you grimace. “Gross. Let’s go wait outside to see if you’re right.”

The four of you walk towards the ride and you steal a bit of Hobi’s cotton candy from him, smiling innocently before popping it into your mouth as he whines in protest. Taehyung is looking around as he swings your joined hands between the two of you and you have a sneaking suspicion that Jimin may have taken a couple of hits with the boys because his eyes are only half open. You all lean against the gate as the ride slowly comes to a stop and you take this moment to pull out your phone, calling out Jimin’s name to get his attention before quickly taking a picture of him in all of his stoned glory.

“(Y/N), I swear to God, if you post that picture anywhere…!” he exclaims as he lunges for your phone, and you cackle as you quickly dodge and hide behind your tall boyfriend. 

Taehyung does nothing to help either of you, merely standing still as the two of you circle each other. “It’s just going to be your new contact picture, relax,” you tease, the slight slump of Jimin’s shoulders making you chuckle. “And I’ll probably put it in the group chat.”

“There have been worse pictures of you sent in the group chat,” Taehyung points out, and Hobi bursts out laughing as Jimin’s posture straightens out with the most offended look on his face that he can muster. “So I think you should just let her have this.”

Before Jimin can argue, the doors to the Gravitron open and Seokjin, Namjoon, and Yoongi all come stumbling out with Jungkook following soon after. Yoongi and Seokjin look a bit pale, Namjoon looks like he’s about to go into shock, and Jungkook’s smiling as if a girl just agreed to show him her tits. A pretty normal situation if you do say so yourself. You can hear Yoongi mumbling something to himself as the four of them approach the exit, and as he gets closer, you begin to laugh when you realize what he’s saying.

“Never again!” he exclaims as he straightens up, wobbling in place he points as menacingly as he can at Jungkook. “I am never ever doing that again!”

“Agreed,” Jin groans and you reach forward to pat his back as he leans against the railing.

“Jin, did you smoke too?” Hoseok asks, a bit shocked. Jin is usually one of the more responsible ones out of the eight of you, so you’re a bit surprised as well since he’s one of the two people that drove tonight. 

The eldest shakes his head and takes a deep shuddering breath. “No, I just forgot how fucking horrible that ride is. Honestly, how does anyone enjoy that? It feels like my brain was trying to squeeze out of my ears.”

“Let’s just walk it off,” Namjoon suggests, voice barely above a whisper and you know that he’s just barely holding himself back from throwing up in front of you all. “Why don’t we go to one of those funhouses?”

You all agree and make your way through the carnival, and are surprised to find a funhouse that was already on. “Jackson probably forgot to turn it off,” Hoseok shrugs as he steps forward to pull aside the plastic curtain and enter. “Yells at us to make sure to leave everything like we found it and he can’t even follow his own rules.”

As you enter the funhouse, a chill runs down your spine and you shiver, stepping a bit closer to your boyfriend to allow his warmth to wash over you. The boys are all joking around as you make your way through but you can’t help but feel like something is off. It feels like there’s something… watching you and you keep hearing whispering in between all of their exclamations of what sounds like your name. But it’s too dark to see anything and the other boys don’t seem to notice anything so you try to shake it off. The further you get into the funhouse though, the more unnerved you get until you’re practically cutting off the circulation in Taehyung’s hand. You’re so consumed in your own thoughts of making it out that you don’t even notice how quiet the boys have gotten. Or how fast you’ve all started walking.

“I don’t want to alarm anyone,” Seokjin says, and you have to strain to hear him because he’s speaking so quietly. “But has anyone noticed the weird banging sounds that have been happening ever since we came in?” A loud bang sounds out, as if to confirm that it is indeed there, and you feel your heart drop to your stomach. 

“Maybe it’s a bad time to bring this up but I swear I saw something in the reflection when we were in the mirror room not too long ago,” Namjoon confesses before looking over at Yoongi, who’s usually always calm but now looks as scared as you feel. “And I’m pretty sure you saw it too.”

“I-I don’t know what I saw,” he stutters out, but the hint of fear in his voice is enough to make Jungkook shiver beside you and Taehyung to push you behind him so that you’re more in the middle of the group. “Let’s get the fuck out of here, I don’t like this.”

You all begin to quickly walk through the attraction and you try your best to ignore everything except for Taehyung’s hand in yours and your friends around you. Jungkook’s hand reaches out for your other hand at a particularly loud noise and that’s when you all begin to haul ass out of there. You haven’t even seen anything but if the hair standing up on the back of your neck is anything to trust then-

“Okay I’m pretty sure I just heard footsteps behind me so fucking run!” Jimin yells from his spot in the back and you turn around to see Seokjin grab his hand as you all begin to run like your lives depend on it.

It’s a struggle to get through all of the obstacles when both of your hands are preoccupied but you refuse to let go as you near the exit. You’re practically shaking as you enter the spinning tunnel and the imbalance that the illusion is making you feel definitely isn’t helping. There’s a metallic smell in the air that causes you to wrinkle your nose and before you can even wonder what it is, Jungkook whips out his phone and turns on the flashlight. Only a gasp escapes your lips when you see the blood that’s dripping down the walls, the red fluid covering most of the glow-in-the-dark paint that was originally splattered on to the tunnel. There’s another loud bang followed by a deep yelling and you all scream as you run out. 

Your heart is pounding in your chest as Jungkook and Taehyung pick up speed, practically pulling you with them as all eight of you sprint through the amusement park. As you run by, all of the rides suddenly turn on, the music blaring and lights flashing almost like a warning. You check behind you to make sure that you all made it out and what you see near the funhouse almost makes your heart stop; there’s a dark figure there, one that you can barely make out because of both the distance and how fast you’ve moving, but you swear that you see it wave at you. 

All of you make it out and you yell at Jin and Jungkook to pull out their keys, not too eager at the thought of slowing down just to wait for them to unlock their cars. You frantically tug at the door handle of Jungkook’s car and dive in just as an ear-piercing scream sounds out. There are more screams, ones of terror, and the lights of all of the rides begin to flash faster and faster before everything goes dark and the gates swing shut on their own. 

“Jungkook, what the fuck are you waiting for?” Taehyung yells from beside you in the back, snapping the younger boy out of his reverie. “Get us out of here!”

Jungkook nods frantically as he starts the car and peels out of the parking lot, Seokjin’s car right behind you guys as you speed away from the carnival. You chance a look behind you but all you can see are the silhouettes of the rides and Jackson’s car still parked in the same place. Jungkook doesn’t slow down until you’re miles away but your breathing doesn’t calm down until you spot the 7-11 that you all were at just last week. 

“Can we stay at your place for the night, Jungkook?” Jimin asks timidly from the passenger seat. “All of us, I mean. Hobi wanted me to ask you too.”

“Yeah,” the youngest agrees, finally turning on the radio and putting it on a low volume just to break through the fear that’s still in the car. “Yeah, I think that would be a good idea.”

He turns and begins to drive towards his house and you rest your head on Taehyung’s shoulder, finally feeling somewhat safe. Your boyfriend presses a reassuring kiss to the top of your head and you feel like you could cry from just how relieved you feel. 

“...So. Maybe you and I should go to my house. My parents aren’t home. And we didn’t get to finish what we started,” Taehyung mumbles lowly in your ear, and you sit up straight to look at him incredulously.

“Taehyung! We almost just got murdered by who knows what and all you can think about is getting your dick wet?” you whisper frantically.

Taehyung stares. 

“Okay fine, I’ll come over, I already told my parents I was probably staying the night at Yeri’s anyways,” you concede with a roll of your eyes, but you chuckle when Taehyung’s hand reaches out to squeeze at your thigh. “Jungkook, would you be able to take Tae and I to his house?” 

“Thank God, I did not want you guys fucking in my house.”

#heartsforbts #btsguild #ficswithluv #jamaisjoons summer collab #tsb event 2020 #taehyung fic #taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #bts fic #bts fluff #bts au #bts horror #bts x reader #taehyung x reader #kim taehyung x reader #kpop imagine #kpop fic #taehyung imagine #taehyung scenario #bts imagine #bts scenario #taehyung drabble #bts drabble

[pynkhues]

[purple heart] [ring] [baby]

(This is coming so late, I’m sorrrry, haha)

💜- top 3 favorite lines

In Weird News, my book went to print last week (!) and so basically everything in my head at the moment has been related to that and not to fic, so I suddenly can’t remember a single thing I’ve written in this fandom, haha.

Soooo, I’m going to share an excerpt of my novel I really love instead. It’s actually a scene that wasn’t in the earlier drafts and was something I wrote during the last round of edits as my editor thought that I needed to feed a little more context to a particular dynamic. She thought there was enough on the page to get by, but with the way the story is structured, the timeline starts late in both of these relationships, and she said that she was hungry to know more of the history of them as both an editor and a reader.

I wrote this scene pretty quickly (it just sort of tumbled out of me), and it’s since become one of both my editor’s and my favourite scenes in the whole thing. I’m not sure if it’ll stand so well on its own here without the rest of the story, but what the hell.

-

It happens like this:

Ed leaves and Delia throws herself into work.

Ed leaves and Delia picks up more classes at the college and loses herself in study plans and marking and guiding the work of her students – the vulnerable new talent and the amateur egos and the kids who want the aesthetic but not the grind, who want awe not help, praise not critique, the ones who aren’t up for the challenge and the ones who are, and it works for those first six months.

It works because Delia’s been a lot of things, but she’s never been the sort to languish for days unoccupied, and it’s easy to forget Ed’s not at home when she’s working or managing the school run or fighting her mother’s memories and her own at Saint Anne’s, and the nights she can’t forget are so few that she doesn’t need anything but her own hand or her showerhead or her vibrator to find a peak she can tumble over, and it works.

For six months.

Because Ed left before he leaves, and they hadn’t made love in months anyway, and when they had it hadn’t felt like them, and he hadn’t touched her like she’d wanted him to, and she hadn’t kissed him because of that. Because it hadn’t felt right.

Because, because, because.

But then it’s six months later and Ed has left her, and her daughter feels like somebody else’s and her sons are growing up too fast and Ed’s cagey about coming over now that he’s shacked up with his girlfriend, as if the kids might find out he was fucking her before he stopped fucking Delia, and so Delia works more, and she’s helping Griff – a tender talent, not one of those students fantasising about futures that’ll never happen – and he’s in her office one night and she’s just helping him with his second-year folio, and it’s not – it’s nothing like—

But he kisses her.

He kisses her and oh.

Maybe she’d been lonely after all.

💍- your most underrated story

I talked about On a Balcony with Champagne Lips here, but I’m actually always a bit surprised Get Your Kicks Driving Me Down isn’t more popular than it is? It’s not that it’s unpopular at all, but it’s definitely one of my least popular Brio one-shots, which is always a little bit of a bummer because it was a story I put a lot of work into. I hadn’t really written many fight scenes before, and writing Rio trying to teach Beth self-defense after 2.07 and it ending in messy sexy times was something that was both challenging and a lot of fun to write, haha.

👶- advice for new writers

I’m a very firm believer that you have to know the rules of writing before you can decide to break them. 

I think when writers start out (me included!), they tend to jump in with both feet and can passionately fall into this idea of writing, more so than the writing itself. The process becomes a sort of aesthetic one where the goal isn’t creating a story, but of creating a transcendent work that connects with people far and wide, but that’s not really how it works.

Writing’s a trade.

I think a natural affinity is definitely a part of it, sure, but only so much as it is for any trade. I swim a lot, for example, and as a result am a pretty strong swimmer, but I’m not fast and I’m never going to win any prizes for it. I don’t have a natural affinity for it, but the hard work got me pretty good. At the same time though, no naturally good swimmer gets in a pool with no training and wins gold at the Olympics.

They work and learn and train.

Understanding things like building setting, cause and effect, character motivations + arcs, beginnings, middles and ends, hell, even sentence and paragraph structure, might all seem like things you inherently know (and I think we do, to an extent. I think people are natural storytellers), but writing is a craft and like any other craft, you still need to study up on the basics before you can start playing with those things in a way that’s effective and compelling.

You need to learn how to swim before you can start inventing your own strokes.

Learn the rules of storytelling, then do whatever the hell you want with them, but I can guarantee you that if you decide to jump in and immediately decide you’re going to write a story with no setting or no ending, you’re going to look like you’re splashing around in the shallows.

I know I did! I read some of my first short stories where I obviously knew next to nothing about story structure, and they are. Um. Not good, haha.

Natural talent gets you nowhere if you don’t put the work in to learn what came before you and besides, breaking the rules is a lot more fun when you know what it is you’re breaking. ;-)

Writer Ask Game 

#writer ask game #writing advice #a uniquely portable magic #welcome to my ama #mego42

[linkspooky]

he flies he lies  hawks realizes that he has been telling the truth to the villains and lying to the heroes / For @villainmonth /edit by @inumaqi fic by @linkspooky

“Listen I want you to trust what I’m about to say.” “Those are some pretty serious words you’re saying…” 

♘

If you have wings, you should fly. That is what Hawks always believed. Feathers were designed by god to catch the air, they did not fall, they floated down. He could pluck one of his feathers, throw it into the sky and watch it dance. 

That was what freedom looked like. But looks were deceiving. His quirk manifested at four years old. He still remembered, terrified of the bulges that had formed on his back, but they could not afford a doctor. Trash that littered the floor, and parents that did not look his way because they considered himself like the garbage that piled up, something that needed to be thrown out. Hawks remembered thinking several times as he looked up at the sky, if he could escape to the sea or the sky, he would have flown away from here in an instant. His pain was prolonged for an entire month as something budded from his back. It felt like vines were growing out from him, and he felt every single thorn as they snaked out in the layers between his skin, and wrapped around his spine. He was cut, again and again, inside and out. Then one day, the skin on his back broke. He woke up with two long rivulets of blood streaming down from both sides of his back, an injury that made him look like an angel who had both wings ripped away from his flesh. Then at his upper backs, two large bones had emerged covered in feathers. 

On that first day he pulled those feathers old with a pair of rusty gardening shears out of fear because he did not know what was happening. A mess of blood, and feathers, and two wings plucked raw, but they grew back. It was when he spread his wings for the first time, that he realized he could not leave the ground. There was nowhere for him to fly. Nowhere he could escape to. 

♘

Hawks always had a feeling that he was lighter than air. That there was not enough of himself to fill up his own body. Birds needed to be that way in order to fly, their bones were hollow, and their lungs took up most of their body mass filling them with air. He had the same feeling, nothing inside of him, deep down to his bones. 

Wherever he walked his feet didn’t touch the ground. He was not flying so much as floating, transparent, hollow, he simply hovered there like a ghost with no substance. It was easy for him to smile, because there was no feeling behind the gesture to him. 

When he was younger he never smiled, he found no reason to, and one day he noticed the adults around him were a bit softer on him if he forced the muscles in his face to pull back his lips. Whatever was inside of him, he was sure it was not a hero. Not like All Might, never like him. He was hair, feathers, talons, scars, and bones. He was all of that, and he was still nothing. He was the blood in his body, but maybe only air flowed through his veins. There were holes in his bones. No, there were holes in Hawks. The air simply passed right through him. He was someone who was simply there. He was there and yet not there. But Hawks used this quality of his. Useless children were like trash piling up in the Takami Household, they were knocked down to the floor, and then they were eventually thrown away. He could smile when he did not feel like smiling. He could always continue to smile, even when there was no reason. He just needed to keep flying. Fly up, up, and up. And forget about crashing down back to earth. 

He just had to keep smiling, even now. That was what he told himself, as Jeanist turned his head back to look at him. “It’s rare for you to come visit me like this.” “How are you feeling?” Hawks, dressed like a model, his hair combed back and feathered, his wings stretching to relax. He took nothing seriously, he never had so much as a heavy thought cross his mind. Burdened by nothing, carefree, that was the “Hawks” that he showed to Jeanist. “Much better than before!” “Didn’t you ask that old lady over at UA for help?” “Unfortunately, she can’t recover something that has already been lost.” 

Hawks knew that already. For example if you sever a limb, an arm, a leg, or maybe your own heart. It’s impossible to recover, the only thing left is the phantom pain from something that is no longer there, and a feeling of missing something. 

Nothing held any weight for him. Not even a human life held that much in his hands. What he was about to do did not show on his face at all, not even a twitch of regret and Hawks wondered for a moment if he could do this and feel nothing if he was someone really worthy of being called a hero. 

Heroes saved other people. Hawks could not save anyone, not even himself. 

“Even with a missing lung, we humans can continue to live. I’ll probably go public with this soon. There are many awaiting my reformation.” “I see!” 

Liar. Humans could not continue to live. They were so fragile. They died so easily. That always weighed on his mind. The more weight he had, the harder it was to fly. When he saw butterflies, all he thought of was their fragility. He could let a butterfly land on his hands, and at any moment, tear both of his wings from his body and rip them to pieces, then scatter them like a flower. The faint beating of a butterfly’s wings. The paper thing wings, the fragile line between life and death, so easily torn up and full of holes. It moved in time with the quiet murmur of his heart. His wings flexed and spread behind his back. 

He always wondered when his feathers grew, why they turned from white to red. His feathers were bleeding, red with streaming blood. His feathers were burning, red as the flames. 

Like a white flower. Spilled blood would dye it red. It would glow red with flames. 

“That’s quite unfortunate.” Hawks wore, a predatory smile, a bird about to devour carrion. He held his sharpened feather in his hand cutting his fingers on the edges. He was killing someone already as good as dead. He felt nothing, but also he felt -fragile.

More scared than the butterfly. His bones were hollow and soon they would shatter like glass. 

He was not flying, not at all. His feet did not touch the ground because he was hanging in suspension. The rope tightened around his neck, but he took a step forward off the chair to fall. The wind whipped him back and forth. All he could do was sway, and hope when this was all over someone would take his body down. He died by slow suffocation. He was free, surrounded entirely by air, and he could not breathe.

Hawks knew, killing Jeanist would be as good as killing himself. In that moment he would die. But, he would not be allowed to die either. Even after sacrificing his life there was more he could sacrifice, more the hero commission could take from him. Hawks thought it was funny, he never thought he had much to begin with, no connection to his name, no nest to roost in, and nothing inside of him but hollow bones and yet somehow the hero commission always took more. Being a hero was all he had. He brought the feather up, and slashed it behind Jeanist’s back, killing him like a coward. But, he could not call himself a hero anymore.

♘

The only piece that matters on the board is the king, the rest are all considered disposable. In shogi a player could still win as long as their king remained. Hawks was a useful knight, even a general, but he was someone who could never become king. A king had worth, and he was damaged goods, recycled and put to use by the hero commission after his parents threw him away. He flew through the air, trying to forget the body he had stuffed in a bag. If Jeanist was still here, if he could hear him, Hawks could only say that whatever happened to him in the end would be far worse. 

He saw this image in his dreams so many times. His feathers burning up in front of him, he watched them combust. They fell away from him like glittering stars. Sparkling, sparkling, sparkling. His wings melted and he realized he could no longer fly. Without wings he would just be a broken thing, a damaged kid. When would it be his turn to fall apart? When would it be his turn to crash back down to earth? It was as inevitable as gravity. 

Then, there was no flying. There was only falling. Maybe he never once flew. Maybe he was just falling slowly. Dabi’s skin is torn up and sewn together from pieces,  and he smiles even though it rips his lip. Hawks wonders if it’s painful for that man to smile too, his eyes linger on the lips as he tihnks of his own. His every smile was a lie. To live here, he needed to breathe lies. “I’m curious why this guy? You could have picked someone lower on the list.” 

Hawks just needs to tell another lie. The Hawks in front of Dabi right now, is someone who sympathizes with the cause of the villains, an unwitting pawn, but also too valuable a piece to throw away. 

He smiles and realizes nothing. He knows nothing. He does not know who his real enemies are. 

“Because he was useless.” 

That was his own voice. “Useless heroes get thrown out.” He heard the sound of his own voice. Why was he... “They’re only worth the results they can produce for the commision.Despite everything he’s done for them, the second he became a burden they would have let him take the fall anyway.” 

Why was he telling the truth? Lie to the villains, deceive the villains, report back to the heroes. The mission was so simple, except for this one complicating factor. A knot in the rope he tied around his neck. Dabi will laugh at him. Just like in front of Endeavor, just like with the hero he killed, he will play it all like one big joke. Dabi is just a murderer. To kill people he must have felt nothing at all.

Just like me.

Hawks feels himself grinding his own teeth when he did not mean to. His mask is cracked, and Dabi was going to see him for what he really was. He was going to die now, burned up in Dabi’s sun. He saw Dabi reach his hand forward and closed his eyes in anticipation. A hand. On his shoulder. Someone holding him, touching him. He was touched and he did not break, even though he was fragile. Heavy, far too heavy. “We don’t do that here.” Dabi said, his fingers clasping, tightening around him. His hands are, so unbelievably warm and birds are cold blooded animals. “Don’t worry so much, you look like the kind of useless guy that’s always worrying.” “No way, you’ve got to have brains to have the headspace to be worrying. I’mlike a chicken with his head cutoff.” “Yeah, whatever.” Dabi said, not believing him. “You’re such a shitty liar.”

♘

He was a bad liar. Those words remained in his head, even after he left Deika city. Back on his home turf, he took up roost in a high place. Whenever Dabi asked him to meet he always picked somewhere up high if he got the choice. So idiots prefer high places, huh? Dabi would mock him. His head was empty now. He wanted to cut his head off and throw it into the sky. Maybe then he would finally become a bird. He was thinking of that, and he was thinking that they sky in front of his eyes seemed endless. But there was nothing to see. He jumped down and wondered what would happen if he did not spread his wings. He would fall, obviously. And then he would splat. But after that he would be free. He just needed to let go and fall. He had been waiting his whole life for the rope to snap.

He was born with wings. He had no idea why. There was nothing in the sky. 

He spread his wings out to catch himself at the last minute, and the people around him clapped and cheered. As he landed on a stop sign, a child asked him. “Hawks-san, what’s it like to be a hero?” “You save other people.” “I bet you can save anyone! I’ve always wanted to be a hero, is it fun? Are you happy?”  His hands. Bright red. Jeanist’s blood. He shoved them in his pockets. “Mm, being a hero is all I ever really wanted -” His mouth moved. He was the one talking. And somebody else’s voice came out. He could not hear his own voice anymore. A lie.  “I’m really happy like this.” You’re such a shitty liar. 

#zeldi drabbles tag #hawks #takami keigo #dabi #villainmonth #villianmonth2019 #my hero academia fic #my hero academia drabble #hawks fic #tw: suicidal ideation #tw: abuse mention

[proherostories]

Bacon Ice Cream

Aptly named bc of the thing that inspired it

WC - 3137 || Ao3

Pairing - Kirishima x Izuku

Mostly Kirishima POV

Warnings - Self-Destructive issues. NSFW, Underage (Characters are 16), horny teenage boys, Frotting, Praise Kink (giving), very slight dom/sub, touch-sensitivity. Swearing. Izuku Tops, Kirishima Bottoms.

A/N - This is abnormal in which it’s characters underage. Do not ask for this in requests. It made the most sense to me writing this that they had to be younger than 3rd years for this to work. I could’ve cut it off, but it’s also partially a gift for the person it was inspired by. 

Normally, normally he could let this god-forsaken feeling out during Hero training. Unfortunately for him, it was school break and he had opted to stay at the dorms instead of going home. A few of the others had done the same, and less had made it a point to go home on weekends. Overall there were significantly fewer people around. Which meant fewer people to pick a play-fight with. Normally Bakugo would be somebody he could rely on for this, even disguising it as having too much energy. Bakugo had actually, for once, let Kaminari take him out shopping with a teacher’s company. 

Which left him...with one person he could solidly rely on to help him. Someone he felt...maybe wouldn’t judge him? His stomach did flip-flops at the thought he would. 

Swallowing thickly, he found the green-haired boy sitting in the common room doing the assignments they were given before break. Of course he was. “Hey, Midoriya!” He chirped casually, hands in the pockets of his shorts, “Think I could...ask you a favor?”

“Kirishima! Hey, yeah of course!” Izuku perked up and set his pencil down, even closing his notebook. 

It made Kirishima’s heart squeeze at how he always gave him his full attention. “Think you and I could...go ask permission to use one of the training grounds or something?”

“Oh! Training together sounds like a really good idea-”

“No Quirks.” That brought Izuku to a halt. Green eyes met red and Kirishima bore into him with his gaze.

The open shocked mouth faded into a set thin line, and Kirishima’s stomach jumped as he was graced with an intense gaze of Izuku’s own. “If you want to fight, no Quirks, then there’s a spot in the forest I can take you to. I’ve only seen Hatsume there, and All Might’s the person who showed it to me.”

“So it’s your spot, right?” Kirishima hummed, “Don’t tell anyone else about it? Don’t go there without you?” 

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“I can do that. Should we at least throw on our gym clothes?”

“If you want. It’s easier to explain if we get caught. I’m not too worried about it though. There’s still plenty of daylight out for anybody to care.”

With a shrug, Kirishima turned back around, “I’ll meet you back here in ten.”

X

“So...what’s this about, Kirishima?” 

They were at least doing stretches so they wouldn’t pull any muscles when Izuku blurted that, and Kirishima froze. Of course Izuku would ask, of course he wouldn’t leave it be. He couldn’t be mad, no...Izuku really cared about his friends and the pinch he saw between the other boy’s brows reminded him of that. 

“I didn’t want to ask while we were still at the dorms…” Izuku murmured, stretching his arm out some more but the thin-lipped expression pulled into a frown the longer Kirishima was silent.

“I need you to punch me. Straight up. That’s all.”

Izuku stared at him, frozen mid-stretch. “That’s all?”

“Look, we can honestly just call this off and I can find something else to do if you think it’s weird or somethin’-”

“Stop, stop, that’s not…” Izuku held his hands up and moved closer hesitantly, taking stock of how tense Kirishima was, “It’s okay. I’m not going to call you weird or abnormal. I just want to know what’s up. Is that too much to ask? You came to me out of the blue asking me to train, now you’re saying you want...need me to punch you. That was a very specific word choice, Kirishima.”

Was it? He hadn’t really thought about it, it just slipped out. He could tell him...right? After all, they had come all the way out here… "If I have an outward problem, I don't have to worry about the internal ones…" he grumbled, gripping his hands into fists in front of him, "Is that enough of an answer?"

So he wanted bruises? Maybe a split lip so he could nurse the injuries and have something to focus on? Izuku took a deep breath, "I think I get it. I'll help...but I want you to know I'm here to talk, too." He sighed and hopped back a few paces, determination back on his face, "Come at me, then. Let me feel it." 'Show me how upset you are…'

So the fight was on, and as it turns out, Kirishima had a lot of built-up feelings. It wasn't even anger, really. Frustration maybe. Schoolwork getting under his skin, Bakusquad riling him up, a bunch of little things piling up and up until it felt like he was going to burst.

This was a good way to let it out. A healthy way. The pain helped clear his head, but now he was here he didn't want to back down. He wanted to know who would win this fist-to-fist manly fight.

After going until they were dirty and sweaty, it turns out...it was Izuku. One leg pinning down Kirishima's legs, straddling him as he leaned over and pinned his arms down.

The boys heaved hard, and Izuku leaned forward even more until their noses brushed and his bangs tickled Kirishima's forehead. "Kirishima?" He panted heavily, "You good?"

The redhead couldn't help but be in awe. It wasn’t like he got to spar with Izuku much outsides of training their quirks. Which usually had them ending in a draw, out of breath and no real end in sight. This though? This result made Kirishima realize while they both would definitely be sporting equally tender bruises from their strength, Izuku had the upper hand in acrobatics. A lot of the time Kirishima ended up blocking and consciously trying to make sure not to let his Hardening activate, where Izuku had looked like he sped across the ground with full cowling but he wasn’t. 

As they continued to breathe, Kirishima came to the realization that Izuku hadn’t moved even though he hadn’t tried to fight back. Wasn’t it over? Didn’t he win? Shifting his weight it slammed into him like a freight train. That fight...the adrenaline...he gulped hard as he froze and his eyes went wide.

Their cocks were straining against their gym pants. 

Now while Izuku stayed irritatingly calm, Kirishima was having an internal crisis and his breathing turned labored. He liked Izuku well enough. Was this alright? Was he waiting to see if he’d be disgusted? For someone who was an open book about his emotions, Kirishima couldn’t quite figure out what he was thinking right now when he needed to the most. He noticed he was shaking in the other boy’s grip and he didn’t know what to do about it. 

Izuku was still really close. He’d only moved away a fraction when Kirishima had shifted before he realized what was going on. With the redhead about to have a panic attack, he tilted his head and a gasp left Kirishima as surprisingly stupidly soft lips brushed along his jaw to whisper in his ear, “You alright? I’ll stop. We won’t talk about it. I just…” those sweet lips kissed at Kirishima’s neck, “I don’t want you to regret this...regret me…”

Lashes fluttering, Kirishima keened softly in his throat, “Wouldn’t dream of it…” he murmured back, a puddle in Izuku’s grip. Who knew his neck was so sensitive? “M’alright...but Midoriya...what if we’re...ya know, caught? By Hatsume or whatever...”

“We’ll keep our pants on. Hatsume comes from one direction. All Might should be busy with other stuff.” His nose brushed along Kirishima’s pulse, “It’s just us, Eijiro…”

The sound of his given name on Izuku’s lips, breathy and sexy, had a shudder rolling through his body. “Izuku…” he murmured back. Tentatively, he rocked his hips up and delighted in the small gasp that came from the green-haired boy, but when he retaliated by grinding down on him red eyes rolled back with a groan, “Fuck!”

“You know there are other ways to distract from internal problems,” Izuku hummed, shifting around until he had Kirishima’s wrists trapped with one hand and used the other to hook down gym pants over the straining hard on -no pun intended- and green eyes darkened at the sight.

“I know how to masturbate, Midoriya,” Kirishima gave him a sidelong glance with a slightly raised brow, “Didn’ ya say we’d keep our pants on?” Goddamn, seeing the way his pupils blew wide and how his eyes went half-lidded made his breath hitch. He really wanted this, didn’t he?

“Mm, it’s called semi-clothed sex, Eijiro,” he quipped, scarred fingers wrapping around the thick shaft, “I was talking about with other people.”

The way he said his name like a warning had a shiver zip up and down his spine. He tugged on his grip, but mostly to get his attention rather than break the hold, “I wanna...see you, too…” he muttered. Ah, there was the Izuku he knew, lighting up briefly with his usual happy perk. He did good, requesting that.

Letting him go briefly to shove his own gym pants down over his cock that was as equally thick as Kirishima’s, the giddy boy faded again as he panted right along with Kirishima. Sliding his hand back up along the redhead’s arm, he leaned forward until their cocks touched and grasped them both at the same time he took Kirishima’s wrists again. “Didn’t even move, that’s good,” he breathed, lips against his neck again, “You could’ve, you know. Unless you like this? Me taking full control because I won our little match?”

“W-Wouldn’t be...m-manly of me to...assume I could,” Kirishima practically wheezed, his senses starting to overload. His arm tingled from the slide of Izuku’s touch since he usually liked rolling his sleeves up. The slide of skin on skin with their dicks in a calloused grip made his mind swim, and he honest to god whimpered as teeth barely grazed over his flesh. “Zuku…” he shuddered, mindful to use his given name instead of his last.

“Mm...I do suppose you’re right, I didn’t tell you. God, you did so good for me then, Ei,” he purred, scraping his teeth again, following along when Kirishima bucked his hips, “Go ahead, keep doing that…” he encouraged sweetly, his nose pushing the fabric of his top to the side so he could latch on and worrying his skin between his teeth a bit harder.

“Oh fuck! Fuck, fuck, you gunna...leave a h-hickey?” hips jerked and stuttered into a very sure grip. With Izuku’s confidence in this situation, it even made Kirishima wonder if he had done it before. Oh no, that thought made a cold feeling settle in his stomach. No, no he didn’t want anyone else with Izuku like this.

“Your breathing picked up. You alright, Eijiro? Do you not want me to leave one?” the worried tone and the brow pinch made Kirishima feel soft for the boy above him.

“N-No that’s not...I’m…” he shuddered, abdomen clenching. He was so turned on but that thought wouldn’t leave, “Are you...with anyone…”

Understanding flashed behind eyes of emerald green and there was a gentle smile lifted his lips, “No...and you?”

“No...but then...how are you…?” it boggled his mind, there was no way…

A soft little chuckle reached his ears, “You know me, Eijiro. How my mind works. I’ve...thought about...you, like this...quite a lot, actually…” the soft blush that reached Izuku’s face made him feel like he wasn’t actually alone in this. “Not just under me, but reversed...oh, you like that?” 

The amusement in his tone made Kirishima’s ears feel hot. His dick had jumped as he imagined Izuku beneath him, just like this. “M-Maybe I do!” he responded, a bit more defensive than he meant and sharp teeth dug into his busted lip, hoping for p-

Izuku’s hand came to grip his jaw, parting his lips and pulling it free from his teeth, “You can lick your lip, taste the blood, but don’t bite it and make it worse, Ei.” He held him, waiting with green boring into red until Kirishima nodded. Then the hand was back around his wrists and he cursed a bit realizing he’d been free for a split second. Which caused Izuku to chuckle. “You’re so pouty, Ei.” Hips started rocking again, driving him wild, “Do you want a next time? To ravish me any way you want?”

It sounded really nice, actually. Considering how much Izuku was turning out to be a little shit, but all Kirishima could really do was gasp and nod vigorously a few times. At least Izuku was starting to have hitches in his breath and gasps, too. “Touch me.” He pleaded. He did not beg...but oh, he felt Izuku’s cock throb against his own. “Touch me, Zuku...I’ll stay like this, just…” he heaved.

That hand moved, making a returning trip back along his forearm and Kirishima’s hands clasped together, his body squirming as Izuku kept pumping their cocks and rutting their hips. All at once, he realized how pliant and obedient he had been with his hand keeping him pinned down, but now it was all his own effort. “I like it when you ask me to touch you, Ei,” his voice broke at the end and it was thrilling for Kirishima to hear. “Knowing how you feel about it, it makes me feel…special.”

“You are...you are special, Izuku,” his back arched into that roaming touch as it traveled over his torso, “Want...need you to…” if he thought he was delirious before, needy and desperate with pleasure, the thought of being caught along with the conscious effort to keep his voice down, he was wrong. As soon as that hand dipped under his gym top and skimmed across bare skin, his eyes shot open and he moaned louder than he had before, “Zuku!”

“That was just my fingertips…” Izuku murmured, his voice sounding like it was in awe but all Kirishima could do was stare up at the sky with a dazed expression, chest heaving. “I wonder… what would happen if I...touched you all over? Hmm? Give me your hand, Eijiro.”

Kirishima didn’t know how he felt about how just using his name could be like uttering a command all on its own. How he was mesmerized enough to follow along with it. Unlocking shaking fingers, he let Izuku do whatever he wanted with it. Which so happened to be wrapping it around their dicks. Oh...oh, Izuku’s shaft felt so soft and the little ‘mmph’ when his calloused fingers skimmed over the crown had him fascinated. For a second, Izuku must’ve forgotten what he was doing because all they did was bump and grind. Kirishima’s other hand moved beside them to dig into the dirt, needing to purchase on something and with his hardening he could go deeper. Briefly, he wondered if he’d accidentally tear the sheets on a bed…

All of a sudden the ground beneath his fingers that he thought he had a good grip on gave way as he howled. Head tossed back he arched even further into the firm, deliberate touch of two hands going from his adonis belt all the way up to his pectorals. “Hhhnnnggg!!!” he grit his teeth, dirt smearing on the other’s gym top as he gripped onto Izuku’s bicep tight, keening and whining as thumbs teased and pinched at his nipples, “Oh god, oh god, oh god…” he chanted, dizzy with the feeling. Never, never in his life did he let someone touch him so fully like this. Absently his other hand pumped them faster, the mischievous little fucker above him altering between feather-light with just his fingertips to full-on palms and all.

“So manly, Ei...I can feel every...groove and contour of your abs…” Izuku heaved his own breath, rolling his hips and eyes glazing over, not that Kirishima could tell through the spinning of the world around him. “So buff, so wonderful, so good...ah...ah, Ei, just like that…” he was the one to whimper this time, and at one particularly good twist of Kirishima’s hand his own flexed and he raked his nails down his torso as his whole body spasmed. The resulting choked off yell had him doing it again, “Gunna...cum for me, Eijiro?”

“S’close...Zuku...oh god...oh god, fuckfuckfuck…” he couldn’t even think, “M-More, more oh…” he didn’t know what he needed, what he was pleading for, but he felt Izuku shove his top up and scarred fingers enclosed around his own, pumping in time with him and red eyes rolled back again as teeth latched on around his nipple while the other hand twisted and pulled the other one, “Aaah! Ah, Zuku! Zuku, I…” his own jaw clenched tight with his groan as his body rippled with the most intense orgasm he’d had ever. 

Yet even as his body threatened to pass out, the warmth of his cum all over his chest, he could hear Izuku through the haze still whimpering, could feel his hips still rolling. Without even thinking twice about it, the hand on Izuku’s bicep moved to twine in unruly hunter green hair and he pulled the other boy in to kiss him, needy hot and desperate…

A second coat of warmth accompanied the delicious whine that escaped Izuku’s throat.

They stayed like that thought for a moment, catching their breath against each other, sharing slow kisses and pressed their foreheads together. Finally releasing their limp dicks, they tucked themselves back into their pants. Heaving up, Kirishima caught Izuku with an arm around the other’s back, smirking as he looked as red as his boots, “So now yer shy, hmm?” he teased, letting him go so he could yank off his gym jacket and use it clean themselves off. As he was the one who had a hero costume that showed off his chest, he didn’t really care if he went back to the dorms topless.

“S-S-Sorry, Kiri-”

“It’s Eijiro, isn’t it?” Kirishima’s face was devious, a slow smirk on his face and teasing eyes, “At least when it’s just us. That was amazing, Izuku. That was a whole new side to you and honestly? It was pretty hot. You had me fooled that it was your first time doing that with somebody.” He chuckled as Izuku seemed to get even redder. Reminding him of that first day when Uraraka kept talking to him and he got so flustered he threw both his arms around his head. “Date me, Izuku. I don’t...I don’t want to think about you doing that with someone else.” Wide, disbelieving eyes stared at him, but the face-splitting smile Kirishima’d grown accustomed to appeared. 

“Yes!”

#kirideku #kirishima x izuku #kirishima x deku #izuku midoriya #eijiro kirishima #notsfw #bnha writing blog #bnha writing

[asterythm]

A is for Amour || Human Error (2)

Pairings: Eventual Logicality, eventual Prinxiety Word Count: 2.5k Chapter Summary: Though rigid schedules may have worked in his favour when it came to essays and science fairs, Logan's plans are ill-equipped to handle a living, breathing human. He finds this out the hard way. Chapter Warnings: “Implied gore mention” is all I can think of for this one. Let me know if I’ve forgotten anything, though! General Warnings: Toxic romantic relationship, abusive Deceit, low self-esteem/self-deprecation, negative thinking

<< First Chapter || Read this chapter on AO3

Logan Berry was just about ready to eat his tie.

Not in the literal sense, of course; Logan was very well aware that cloths and fabrics did not have much nutritional value to them. They’d be difficult to digest, for one, and he didn’t imagine the taste could be too appetizing either. The young man had merely been using figurative language to express irritation.

A little clarity never hurt anybody.

Perhaps it would be simpler to forget about the textile consumption and just put it this way: suffice it to say, anyone looking at Logan now would never be able to guess how excited the boy had been only thirty minutes ago.

Which was a shame, really, considering how rare it was for Logan to get excited about anything nowadays.

It was true, though — Logan had been walking on sunshine for weeks in anticipation of this moment. How could he not? Today was the day of his first-ever session in his new tutoring job; a day he’d spent long days and longer nights preparing for. Logan had even gone so far as to create and rehearse a script that contained everything he intended to say, word-for-word. Every detail he could think of, he had planned, all the way down to the exact outfit he’d wear — a freshly-ironed black polo paired with his best blue necktie was the perfect way to passively say, this young man means business. Knowing how crucial a good first impression would be to their overall success, Logan had done everything in his power to ensure that today’s session would run perfectly. It had taken every second that he could spare (and quite a few that he couldn’t), but he didn’t mind. After all, Logan had been completely convinced that all his efforts were bound to pay off in the end.

Oh, what a fool he’d been.

You see, it was only once Logan was watching this unsettlingly energetic thing come careening around the corner did he realise that in all of his careful planning, he’d forgotten to factor in one major variable: the student himself. And a single glance was all it took for Logan to realise that his mistake would cost him dearly.

Not only is he late, he’s completely out of breath. And he’s not even bothering to hide it… just look at that gaping mouth, Logan’s narrowed eyes had immediately observed. Smudged glasses, uncombed hair, grass-stained sneakers — one of which is untied, mind you — oh, and now he’s gone and sent books flying everywhere.

So much for first impressions, I suppose.

With the introduction of this new limiting factor, the future wasn’t looking too bright, to say the least. But if there was one thing that Logan’s extensive collection of award-winning science fair projects had taught him, it was to never waste time trying to control the uncontrollable. So, notebook clutched in one hand and tenaciously holding back doubts with the other, Logan had launched with great determination into the script that he’d practiced so many times before.

It took all of five minutes to grind that determination into the dust. Every single time he paused for breath, the freckled boy seated crookedly in front of him would take it as an invitation to start chattering away at a speed that would give even the most accomplished of auctioneers a run for their money. Poor Logan could hardly keep up with his student, let alone settle him down long enough to get through even the first paragraph.

Finally, he had been forced to abandon his perfectly-crafted script in favour of a much less elegant approach: a simple and to-the-point list of questions. Though it physically pained Logan to abandon the result of so many tears shed and sleepless nights passed, he’d rather finish things the “alkali way” (or, as the cool kids preferred, the “basic way”) than never finish them at all. And if he’s going to talk anyway, Logan reasoned, I might as well give him something productive to talk about. Surely then we’ll be able to stay on-topic.

No such luck. Logan’s first question got no more than a noncommittal shrug before Parker — or was it Patrick? No, he was quite certain that the boy’s name was Parker — was off again, running his mouth a mile a minute, dropping awful puns and grammatically incorrect sentences all over the previously pristine carpet. The poor librarians would have some cleaning up to do later.

Okay, so plan B didn’t work either. Nothing to worry about, though, Logan pretended to believe. I’ve still got twenty-four letters to get through.

To be fair, Plan C was really more of a coping mechanism than an actual step-by-step plan. A surprisingly effective way of releasing pent-up stress and frustration, this longtime favourite involved imagining, in vivid detail, the source of that frustration being slowly and painfully fed into a running wood chipper.

What?

Some might think this cruel. Logan preferred to call it merciful; after all, at least he was limiting his vengeance to the hypothetical realm. An added bonus was that, in the interest of ensuring the utmost accuracy, it had compelled him to familiarize himself with the inner workings of wood chippers. So really, Plan C was a win-win for all parties involved.

As you might have guessed by now, dealing with annoying people never really had been Logan’s strong suit.

Actually, make that dealing with people in general. In hindsight, signing up to work with Sandford Secondary’s peer-to-peer tutoring program had definitely not been the best idea he’d ever had, in that case. Not because he wasn’t qualified — complex formulas and sentence structure he could handle in his sleep. But teaching those same concepts to a student who apparently had no intention of listening, he most certainly could not.

Really, Logan should have known better than to believe that he could ever be successful in any job that depended so much on one’s ability to work with others. Why couldn’t he have chosen something with more facts and numbers?

Facts and numbers were predictable. They always fit neatly into categories of right or wrong, true or false, black or white. Social interaction was so much messier. With no structure, no set of rules, and no procedure to follow, the whole thing was really nothing more than haphazard guesswork, a real-life game of hangman where every wrong word brings you one pen-stroke closer to game over. Bearing all that in mind, Logan had never understood how some people could so easily waltz up to strangers and just begin “bonding” like it was nothing.

And frankly, he didn’t particularly want to understand. Why would anyone choose to while away their life building those fragile houses of cards; vocabulary cards filled with only empty words? Did no one realise that a single misplaced breath is all would take to knock everything down in an instant? Why waste time trying desperately to convince your peers that you’re worth their love, when you could instead be hard at work earning their respect? In Logan’s experience, relationships of any kind — romantic, platonic, even familial — were always sloppy at best when built on love. Respect, on the other hand… respect was real.

This attitude, by the way, was an entirely objective worldview that had nothing to do with the fact that Logan didn’t exactly have many romantic or platonic relationships to choose from. Correlation, not causation.

Besides. Not that he cared.

Taking a deep breath, Logan forced himself to focus back on the session. (That makes one of us, he couldn’t help thinking.) Speaking of empty words… Parker, or Patrick, or whatever-his-name-was, had somehow been ceaselessly talking about corn for —  Logan checked his watch — over seven minutes now. They were getting nowhere, fast.

If Logan allowed the boy to keep this up, the two of them would end up leaving the library having accomplished absolutely nothing at all. That simply would not do. His student’s attitude may not be ideal, but he’d be damned if he let his own standards slip because of it.

After taking a brief pause to collect himself and his thoughts, Logan stood abruptly, causing the freckled boy to cut himself off mid-sentence.

Slowly, deliberately, he moved to stare out the large windows framing the section of the library where the two of them were seated, so that his back was turned and his face was hidden from the other boy.

Then, voice dripping with contempt, he spoke.

“Let me make one thing clear. I am not here to make friends, and neither should you be. I am here to teach, and as of yesterday, I was under the impression that you are here to learn. However, your behaviour so far has led me to believe that perhaps I was mistaken. For once in my life, I find myself praying that I will be proven wrong.

“Now, I don’t know what kind of merry tomfoolery you were expecting from our session today, but I do know exactly what I was expecting, and exactly what I have prepared for you. And since you clearly do not seem interested in steering this session anywhere productive, I suggest that you hand the reins to me and do exactly as I instruct from here on out. I have prepared a rigid agenda for how we will be spending this time together, and I intend to follow it. I expect you to do the same. Be aware that this agenda includes absolutely no icebreakers; we can’t afford to waste any more of our valuable lesson time, especially not on childish games.

“Starting right now, you will answer my questions so I can develop a plan for what we need to accomplish, and you will answer them without distraction. When you are not answering questions, you will hold your tongue like your entire future depends on it. Because it very well might. Is that understood —” just in time, he suddenly remembered the boy’s name — “is that understood, Patton?”

The following moment of quiet, the first one since Patton had stepped foot in the library, was answer enough for Logan.

“Good. I trust this will not be a discussion that we will need to have again, then.”

With that, Logan returned to his seat, carefully scrutinizing Patton once more to see if he could spot any differences. He didn’t need to try too hard. Patton’s transformation was so drastic, it was almost…  

Unnerving. The vigor from earlier had all but disappeared — thank goodness — but with its departure came a distinct dullness to the eyes framed in those round-rimmed glasses. And where Patton had previously been nearly falling out of his seat with barely contained energy, he now slumped inwards as if the words that Logan had spoken were actually physically crushing him.

At the sight, Logan couldn’t help but feel the tiniest glimmer of guilt. Perhaps he hadn’t needed to lay the scolding on quite so heavily. What if I overdid it?

A second later, Logan remembered he didn’t care.

Excellent. This shall be ideal. The brief moment of weakness over, Logan settled back down into the library’s comfortable couch. “What are your academic strengths?” he read off his notebook.

“Uhh, I’m… nice, sometimes. I guess.”  

Logan let out a deep sigh. A wood-chipper-shaped silhouette flickered in the back of his mind.

Most likely seeing his teacher’s disapproval of the vague answer, Patton hurried to add, “I mean, I can be pretty patient when it comes to worksheets. It always takes a really long time for me to finish my homework, so I… kind of have to be, you know?”

“Hm. Is that it?”

“That’s all I can come up with right now. Um, sorry.”

“I see.” Pencil scratched across paper as Logan scribbled down (a paraphrased version of) Patton’s response. In the otherwise unbroken silence, the sound grated loudly against Logan’s ears. He hurried to finish so he could move on to the next question. “Academic weaknesses?”

This time, Patton’s answered without even a moment’s hesitation. “Focus. Organization. Time management. Anything related to math or numbers, really. I’m not good at taking risks. My work is always sloppy and hard to read. It takes me a long time to wrap my head around new concepts.” He rattled off one item after another, a strange mix of confidence and detachment, almost as if reading off an invisible script that he’d already recited — or heard recited to him — many times before.

Logan wasn’t sure what to say to that. Here was another reason he hated socialising; people always had this odd tendency to hyper-fixate on what needed to be fixed rather than what they already had going for them, a tendency that Logan couldn’t imagine was healthy or even at all helpful. There’s so much beauty mixed in with the bad, and yet you choose to ignore it all? Worst of all, these senseless “social blinkers” meant that Logan had no chance of getting an accurate idea of Patton’s actual strengths and weaknesses. There was no way that every item on that list of shortcomings that Patton had just blazed through could actually apply, right?

Logan decided not to push the question, though; experience had taught him that calling others out on their poor logic didn’t often end well. I’ll just have to figure that part out myself, I suppose. Instead, he adjusted his thick glasses, wrote down one or two items from Patton’s list of weaknesses, and read aloud the next question.

And the next, and the next. They were really tearing through the conversation now; Patton’s answers seemed to get shorter and more succinct with every second that passed. Not that Logan was complaining. In fact, he was nothing but grateful for Patton’s newfound intense focus. It seemed his brief speech had done the trick.

Sooner than expected, a quiet trill interrupted the two of them. He checked his phone to see that his alarm had gone off. The session was over.

Had it really been two hours already? It had felt like so much less than that.

Shutting off the alarm, Logan turned to face his student. “Well, that marks the end of our session. I… appreciated your cooperation, Patton. We may have gotten off to a bit of a rocky start, but your focus in the second half of the session was sufficient to convince me that we won’t have too many problems from here on out.”

This time, Patton said nothing at all, settling instead for a wordless nod.

“Next week, I will have worksheets prepared for you. In the meantime, your homework is to write me a page, single-spaced, telling me a little bit more about short-and long-term educational goals. Full sentences only, please.” Logan flipped his notebook shut. “I look forward to reading your writing for the first time,” he lied.

In response, Patton picked up his backpack and started to walk away. He only made it about three steps, though, before turning back and opening his mouth. Logan waited.

The words never came. After the briefest of pauses, Patton’s mouth closed, lips pressed firmly together, perhaps to suppress whatever he’d been wanting to say.

As watched the child disappear around the corner, a thought arose unbidden:

For some reason, Patton seemed so much smaller leaving the library than he had looked when he was entering.

***

[next chapter]

A/N: Okay. Even though it's only chapter two, I have a LOT to say. Most of this is about the fic in general rather than the chapter, so... it's LONG. I'm sorry. In the interest of not putting you to sleep, let's speed-round this.

The first chapter of AAmour was the very first thing I ever wrote for the Sanders Sides fandom. I based that chapter almost ENTIRELY on a oneshot comic by @the-pastel-peach.

Two months later, I was planning for NaNoWriMo 2018 (a challenge where authors write 50k in 30 days). Long story short, I decided that I'd like to try finishing AAmour.

I didn't.

I did hit 50k, but I only made it to chapter ten. I still want to finish this thing though, so I've decided to edit and post what I already wrote, one chapter a month, and then write the second half of AAmour during NaNoWriMo 2019.

I'm already late with this first chapter because my dumb brain decided I needed to do a complete rewrite a week before posting, but in the future I'd like to post a chapter on the first day of every month.

Almost everything after chapter one is my own work. I say "almost" because I picked @residentanchor's brain a lot during the planning phase.

So yes, I may still be writing a high school AU, but this is no longer @the-pastel-peach​'s high school AU. Besides Logan's last name (I couldn’t resist -- the pun game was too strong) and the first chapter, any similarities to their version of the AU are completely coincidental; in fact, I've barely looked at theirs because I didn't want to risk any subconscious copying.

Also heeeeyyyyyy this is my 200th post that’s pretty nifty--

I think that about covers it. Thank you so, so much for reading -- both the chapter and my ridiculously long author’s note!! See you soon, lovelies. Take care <3

General tag list: @surleytemple @starryfirefliesbloggo @icecoldparadise @lyditist @fandom-random2405 @beach-fan @ihateitwhenyourejustvague @starryeyedhomicide

AAmour tag list: @romanticsanders @thatrandomautist @thelowlysatsuma @mirror2thespirit @pokii-jonas

Let me know if you’d like to be added to or removed from either tag list!

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #logicality #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfic #ts virgil #ts patton #spectral scribbles #spec made something #a is for amour #aamour #tw implied gore #tw deceit mention

[artyrogue]

Blind Date Gaming: Race Days

Oof. The perils of blind dating present themselves in the randomness of your match. Sometimes you get a win and hit it off with your date; sometimes, invariably, you get paired with a bad fit. Today's date was a major blast of the latter. But I get ahead of myself. Let's focus on what my date had to offer during our long night together.

Oh, hello there, Race Days! As the name hints, it's a racing game. Now, I'm really not much for racing games. They never clicked with me much, and thus I have little experience with them. Perhaps this title will be the one that changes my mind a bit?

So this game is actually two in one. The first game is 4 Wheel Drive, one of those first-person driving games where 60% of your action space is the dashboard of a car. At least in this game you see the track map, I guess? It's like having an oldschool GPS in your car long before Google Maps was a thing!

17th place. Because we need 18 vehicles in our racing game for some reason? What is even the color of a participation ribbon for that rank?

Well, it starts off rough. Like 4 FPS rough. You slog through the slow-updating track, driving a chunky jeep around 17 other chunky jeeps in an... err... 'adrenaline-pumping' race. Your primary salvation here is that you get on-screen cues for turns. Without that, I probably would have ended up on some toll road without cash, resulting in some passive aggressive bills being sent to me in the mail. Honestly, though, you'll be paying attention to these signals more than the road since the road blends into the offroad area pretty seamlessly. Only the crappy sound effects will tell you that you're off the pavement.

See this? There's only 1 lane here. The rest is dust or something? Good thing they painted divider lines in the desert.

The other jeeps don't present much challenge, though maybe it was because I was playing in easy mode. Hey, don't judge! I know my weaknesses and play around them! Still, they do have weird hit boxes. Or maybe it's YOUR jeep that has a weird hit box? Perhaps this truck I'm in is some weird import made to host a whole party in the back, thus it's much wider in the body. Well, whatever, this party sucks and my jeep needs to go on a diet. I guess it'll be lighter fuel from now on!

You CAN sort of total your jeep if you act like a goon and keep ramming NPCs. Hope you have good insurance!

So that's basically it, I guess. Due to time constraints, I only played one set of tracks. None of them were particularly memorable or fun to drive on. There are no real mechanics that make this game stand out unless you're looking for a racing game with invisible tracks. I did ace the cup, though, so I guess I have a new trophy at my drab-colored ranch house in the 'burbs on Minnesota (or wherever Jeep-owners usually live).

Man, Duke Nukem needs to find a tailor and should look up proper wine-bottle-toting form

Okay! On to game #2! This game is...HUAGH!

I wouldn't flaunt your graphics team here, chaps

Ohhh-kay, so that's a bold choice of visual presentation right off the bat. This beaut is called Dirty Racin', which I assume might be like Dirty Dancing? Probably doesn't have any romance though, unless it's got like Nascar fans severely crushing on Dale Earnhardt the third. Is there a third one? I assume Nascar drivers have titles like the Dread Pirate Roberts or something. Maybe not. (Apologies if I have insulted racing fans somehow; disclaimer: I'm severely out of my element here.)

Does...does the driver lie down in there? How does he even fit inside?

Like in 4 Wheel Drive, you get to choose a difficulty. After the ease of Jeep Racing Simulator 2000, I decided to be adventurous and go with 'Hazardous'. I don't want to disappoint the cool dude on the options screen who is constructed out of straight lines by choosing easy mode. But wow, that guy is entirely made out of straight lines. The art team here clearly earned their keep.

It takes almost a full bottle of gel every morning to get his bangs at perfect angles like that

So what's this racing game about? Overhead racetracks, apparently. It's you and 3 other cars on a bunch of different tracks, trying your best to outmaneuver each other for a coveted first place victory. Unfortunately, there's only 2 lanes of space, though, so you end up colliding with your opposition all over the place.

Luckily for me, the first couple races just require you to not get last place. I hate the controls in games like this, so I am naturally terrible at this game. I pull through and squeak a third place due to dumb luck, though. Then I'm greeted by some amazing sex idol racing queen that is in no way poorly drawn and clearly epitomizes the breast part about racing. I mean best part. Best part! She offers me car upgrades with the coins I found lying along the racetrack. Let's ignore how a speeding car can safely pick up these caches of money.

Uhh, hey pumpkin, can you move your elbow there? What are you even leaning on?

After this, I travel to the next event, which is a series of 3 races. I have to place first overall to win and unlock more tracks on the map. Okay! Let's do this!

Mmyep, I got 4th place each time. Ok, try again!

...Alright, once more! I think I have the hang of things a bit! I got third once!

Nope, this bites

After a series of horrible losses, I tried to back out and see what else I could play. I mean, there was a second direction to go; maybe the other track is better? But no, the game over screen only lets you try the same race again or quit entirely. So you either have to grind it out and win on that specific map or you have to start over from the beginning. Excellent news. Well, I opted to flee and try a lower difficulty. Surely I can make some ground h-

Yeah, screw this game

I gave up after noticing the AI isn't remotely different in the lower difficulty. Moreover, I started fuming and compounding a list of things I hate about this game! What a joy to be spending time with it. Please let me rant and release this pent up anger. It's therapeutic and I need to vent worse than a racecar with an overheating engine.

All opponents have better handling and stats than you. You need to upgrade your car to even be at the same level as them.

All bumps, be they into walls or other cars, up your damage meter; more damage means a malfunctioning car. You CAN get damage fixed after a race for cash, but doing so pretty much depletes your funds and you get no upgrades. Which means you're STILL at a disadvantage over your opponents.

You always start at fourth place. This means you have to contend with 3 other cars hogging the road space, blocking you and making it hard to get a foothold.

You can't replay levels you beat. This means no grinding for coins or leveling up.

There are only two single races available at the start, both of which have the low bar of making third or higher. After doing those, you MUST do a 'win 1st place in these three races' level to progress.

You can activate nitro for a quick boost, but it's pretty useless since the AI almost immediately activates their own and overtakes you with their better handling and blocking.

Opponents seem to gain higher speed if they're behind you. Like, their non-nitro max speed actually increases, so they easily overtake you.

You can bump into special flashing walls for powerups, but some of them are useless. The best one gives you superspeed for the rest of the match, but it's so fast I can't control it well. I just ended up bumping into walls like mad and upping my damage, all the while having the AI overtake me anyway.

Whew. So there's that embarrassment. I'm sure some of you are laughing at me since this game is probably child's play, but I just can't do it. The GameFAQs guide even says that all difficulty modes are super-easy, so it must just be me. I never got higher than third place. In the end, this was a steaming pile of garbage for me that I wouldn't date again if it was the last form of entertainment left in the world. Not even Upgrade Lady can sway my decision to let this one die forever in a horrible roadside crash. (Okay, so that definitely offended some of you; apologies again!) Take this Sprite of Passage and forget about this game forever. Don't worry, it deserves it.

what else did you expect to be the Sprite of Passage?

#blinddategaming #racedays #gameboy

[thesportssoundoff]

“When In Doubt, Use Lightweights”  A UFC 216 Preview

Joey

October 2nd

Before I begin with the usual, I suppose I have to start by addressing the atrocities that occurred last night/this morning in Las Vegas. I lack a really eloquent way to simply say that this shit, every bit of it, really needs to stop. No matter your political beliefs, interpretation of the constitution, opinion on firearms or whatever, nobody should have to go to a place of entertainment with a cloud of "Am I going to survive tonight?" hanging over their heads. We should all be better than this shit. We should demand more from our representatives and one another. Thoughts and prayers are nice but some action in the other direction would be nice. Let's make this place a tolerable place to live in for a little while.

The UFC returns to Las Vegas and this is a very peculiar card. The buyrate, the true be all and end all which determines the success of a show, will probably not be through the roof. At the same time, the UFC is giving two new guys the opportunity to headline a PPV with a really solid developed undercard beneath it. Beyond that, there are guys who CAN be bigger stars sprinkled throughout the show. It's a really good show as of right now with potentially one more fight to get added for some good old fashioned depth. It's survived a few knocks which speaks to its depth thus far although we still have THE DREADED MID WEEK FIGHT CANCELLATION to worry ourselves about. If you've got some money laying around to spend on a show, one with two title fights, a shot at history, a HW fight for people who like big people and a very pivotal 155 lb fight is the sort of show you should be into.

Fights: 12

Debuts:  1 (Poliana Botelho)

Fight Changes/Injury Cancellations: 3 (Paige Van Zant vs Jessica Eye cancelled, Andrea Lee vs Kalindra Faria cancelled, Abel Trujillo OUT, Bobby Green IN vs Lando Vannata)

Headliners (fighters who have either main evented or co-main evented shows in the UFC): 12 (Tony Ferguson, Kevin Lee, Demetrious Johnson, Fabricio Werdum, Derrick Lewis, Evan Dunham, Beneil Dariush, Will Brooks, Lando Vannata, Bobby Green, John Moraga, Thales Leites)

Fighters On Losing Streaks in the UFC:   3 (Will Brooks, Matt Schnell, Marco Beltran)

Fighters On Winning Streaks in the UFC:  7 (Tony Ferguson, Kevin Lee, Evan Dunham, Demetrious Johnson, Ray Borg, Walt Harris, Brad Tavares)

Stat Monitor for 2017:

Debuting Fighters (Current number: 28-26)- Poliana Botelho

Short Notice Fighters (Current number: 17-28)- Bobby Green

Second Fight (Current number: 23-30)-  Tom Duquesnoy, Pearl Gonzales, Magomed Bibulatov

Cage Corrosion (16-8)- Evan Dunham

Twelve Precarious Ponderings

1- Looking at this main event, it's a pretty perplexing challenge to determine just what this interim title means. Despite his talk this weekend, you can't help but get the feeling that McGregor vs Diaz III is more likely than not going to be the fight that comes next for Conor. The actual title will likely be held up with a money fight, a fight that revolves around getting the most dollars possible which is absolutely fine from a business sense. It does little though to prevent the UFC from taking on the bad smell of boxing's mistakes; ya know where you'd have the "actual" champ, an "interim" champion and then a champion emeritus in case a guy decides to retire then unretire. It doesn't even help that to SOME (not all but some) Kevin Lee is just a guy filling in a spot best reserved for Khabib Nurmagomedov. That's unfair given that Lee has been fighting top competition for a while while Khabib has been injured or incapable to take the call to fight but you can't change narratives once they're formed. It's not easy to rewire the already formed opinion/mind of fans. It also isn't entirely out of the realm of possibility that the interim champ defends his title AT LEAST ONCE before the actual champ fights and no, not due to injury either. The reality is that this is a great fight but discovering its worth is complicated.

2- How confident should the UFC be in Ray Borg making "the walk" as some would say. He had a bad weight cut which either did or didn't lead to the illness which got him yanked (given how it happened vs Ian McCall in a similar situation, I'm going with yeah there) and is opting to go SANS nutritionist on this one. Some of you fellas might need to go back and watch some Magomed Bibulatov just in case.

3- Is Mighty Mouse done until the spring if he wins? Pettis vs Cejudo in December means the winner is probably the #1 contender barring Joe B getting healthy and getting a title shot in the winter.  Could be the last time we see the P4P best for a while.

4- Similarly I think there's ample pressure on Werdum and Derrick Lewis here to do something big. Miocic may be out for however long this contractual snafu takes to fix up and so the winner might need to be really impressive to keep pace with Ngannou, Overeem and Alexander Volkov.

5- The last time Tony Ferguson REALLY struggled, not counting a first round vs a replacement guy with a funky style, was Danny Castillo. Castillo was able to take advantage of Ferguson's wacky submission game and basically try to grind out a decision win. I'd argue Ferguson has improved ten fold since then BUT Kevin Lee has some Castillo in his game. He's very good at getting a fight to where it needs to be, he's determined and relentless and his submission game is way better than Danny Castillo's ever was. I'm not saying I'm picking Lee to win BUT I think stylistically he's got a fair shot to pull off something here.

6- Tom Duquesnoy is getting a very moderate step up in competition as the UFC pits him vs Cody Stamman as THE featured prelim bout for UFC 216. It's a winnable fight for Mr. Duquesnoy and a good showcase of whether or not his wrestling is up to par to compete vs a big physical 135er. Stamman had no problems taking Terrion Ware down so this is one to keep an eye out for.

7- Kevin Lee has scrambled with some very good grapplers so I don't expect him to be overwhelmed in that regard. What I am curious to see is whether Lee's propensity to panic in exchanges will come out. Going way back to the Jesse Ronson fight, there were moments where as soon as things got a little hectic, he'd shoot in for a takedown and just try to muscle people around. That's great against guys who aren't expert neck grabbers but if/when Ferguson senses a panic TD, he's going to snatch a neck, give up the takedown and force Lee to defend against his d'arce. Hard to do for 25 minutes.

8- Do not forget Ferguson had a 25 minute fight at high altitude where he was so bored he decided to salsa dance----anybody suggesting Lee has any sort of cardio advantage is someone who you shouldn't listen to.

9- A tale of two completely different stuttering hype trains on the UFC 216 prelims. We can begin with "Groovy" Lando Vannata who is better than he's shown thus far. Lando is 1-2 in the UFC but I'd caution that David Teymur is low key really great and losing to Tony Ferguson on a week's notice is nothing to be ashamed of. Vannata is just one of those guys who has this overly relaxed malaise to his game which costs him when he's going one strike for every four landed vs composed strikers. You can maybe win that way at 185 or 205 lbs where power > skill but not so at 155 lbs. Lando gets Bobby Green in what SHOULD be a showcase for Vannata given how Green is not the kind of guy who overwhelms you with pressure and isn't going to give you a lot of things to be concerned about. He does everything well but never well enough, at least since he hurt his knee, to give you reason for pause. On the other hand you have WIll Brooks who came into the UFC with a ton of fanfare straight out of Bellator. The results? 1-2 with a caveat. His first loss was Alex "Cowboy" Oliveira in a fight where Oliveira missed by like six lbs. That one you can wrap up and discard. The loss vs Carlos Oliveira? A lot harder to discard and much differ to wash away. Brooks is struggling and the UFC seems to have recognized that because Nik Lentz is like THE easiest touch for him. It's a guy who does everything Brooks does except not as well, not as athletically gifted and without the power to give Brooks cause for concern. This is as close to a gift wrapped win as it gets.

10- This main card is currently lacking a fight by the by. So who gets bumped up? They've already advertised Will Harris vs Mark Godbeer and Thales Leites vs Brad Tavares as the main fights of note for the FP portion. Do they bump up Moraga vs Bibulatov? How about maybe sneaking up the card the fight between Brooks/Lentz?

11- Brad Tavares is under 30, he's on a winning streak, he's one of the longer tenured UFC middleweights in the world and he's on the prelims. Why? The last time he finished a fight was in early 2011 against PHIL BARONI. Dude needs a finish in the worst way.

12- Walt Harris vs Mark Godbeer is the tipping point for this card. If it sucks, run for the hills. IF it's good? Haboy.

Must Wins

Kevin Lee

There's no doubt in my heart of hearts that Kevin Lee would not get another opportunity for this shot outside of a collection of circumstances like this. Look at the 155 lb landscape as it currently stands; McGregor vs Diaz III is coming. Eddie Alvarez/Justin Gaethje likely gives you a back up option off of that. Dustin Poirier and Anthony Pettis is a really great fight between two really great exciting fighters people wanna see. Russian LWs like Khabib Nurmagomedov and the smashing machine Mairbek Taisumov exist. Kevin Lee is a great fighter but if he wants to keep the public's attention, he pretty much HAS to win.

Derrick Lewis

Any UFC HW from ages 35 to 45 will always be given ample opportunities to redeem themselves. Look at Andrei Arlovski. Look at Travis Browne. Look at Overeem. Look at etc etc etc forever until the end of time. HWs are an ageless commodity for some people---so if Werdum loses? NBD. Sometimes good fighters lose am I right? Now Derrick Lewis is a different story. For some people, Lewis has always been sort of a "when the bubble bursts" guy. His wins while violent aren't always impressive. His focus and cardio can come and go in stops and starts. More often than not, a fight ends with him literally crying. Still he's fun in a division that needs fun and he's one of the more amusing guys out there. So a win for Derrick Lewis would be cool.

Mighty Mouse

HISTORY Is on the line, dudes!

Five Can't Miss Fights

1- Kevin Lee vs Tony Ferguson

Even if the title wasn't on the line, this would be the best fight on almost any card (outside of some combination of Ferguson, Alvarez, Gaethje or Poirier). It's a genuinely great LW fight.

2- Mighty Mouse vs Ray Borg

I feel like your feelings on Mighty Mouse say a lot about you as an MMA fan. For me, we should all band together and watch as our marvel of joy and bundle of asswhoop goes out there to do his deed. <3 Mighty Mouse.

3- Lando Vannata vs Bobby Green

Lando is must see entertainment, the sort of fighter who fights fearlessly and does shit that should cost him a fight every time he fights. Bobby Green is a similar minded fighter. Assuming it's not a staring/jaw jack contest, this should be good.

4- Tom Duquesnoy vs Cody Stamman

Duquesnoy is VERY similar to Lando Vannata in the sense that each and every fight he has, he's so careless (in a good way) that he seems to welcome an element of danger. He's really fun to watch and Stamman showed me a lot vs Terrion Ware. It's a great test for Duquesnoy because if he's going to make it at 135 lbs, the top of that division has a lot of dudes who can wrestle their ass off.

5- Magomed Bibulatov vs John Moraga

I've seen glimpses of Bibulatov and wasn't overly impressed BUT Moraga seemed to rediscover the tricks which made John Moraga a #1 contender once. He gave a limited opponent all kinds of fits in New Zealand and looked to bee back to his old ways. Great test for Bibulatov and Moraga, when he feels like it and is on, is a fun dude to watch.

#MMA #UFC #UFC 216 #Mighty Mouse #Kevin Lee #Tony Ferguson

[iamwhelmed]

Win One, Have Two: Chapter 2

This update is a little early, but I was looking through the outline and Chapter 3 might be more of a hassle so I’ll need more time to focus on it lol

Besides, this is where the story actually gets started >:D

It’s also on AO3 and Fanfiction.net!

Summary: With Isaac gone and Ed sent away to train, the club struggles to find some sense of normalcy, but so do Suzy and Collin-- and the rest of the school; the monster attack on Mayview Middle has some interesting consequences. Isaac, meanwhile, struggles to atone for betraying his loved ones, and the mission is not without difficulty and pain, not that he was expecting any less. It's just more than he counted on.

She'd turned the radio on in the background, just to listen to it as she practiced her spec shots. The noise was nice, distracted her from the way her shots hit the mark and echoed in the training area. It wasn't supposed to be so quiet. Everything-- everything-- had been too quiet lately.

She was only hardly aware of her grandfather's shift into the room, only knew because there was no feeling more grating than his eyes scrutinizing her every move. She wanted to blame her irritation on him, blame it all on how he threw off her game, her concentration. She took another shot as the last words of a current Top 10 track faded out, stopping momentarily until the DJ realized he had dead air and fixed it.

"Oh! Aaand there we have it! Gee-Man's Miss You Girl, as requested! Now, Josie, we have any weekend updates?"

"You bet we do!" A woman's voice, though chipper and bubbly, was mature and somehow mellow, not as grating as Isabel had been anticipating. "There are reports of accidents on 45 and Mayview Way, so if you're aiming to get out of the city, South is probably going to be your best bet." Isabel huffed and raised her fingers again, aiming at a target to her right, where her grandfather wasn't standing and seething with complaints and critiques. "Dannis Gibbsy is engaged to Laurel Con-- I mean, we all saw it coming after that season finale, but still." She couldn't quite find the mark, and it seemed the more she concentrated, the less certain her shot felt. She grimaced, tightening her posture and straightening up, telling herself again and again to just take the stupid shot. "And as for missing child Isaac O'Connor, police are yet to find any trace. If you have information please call in at--" Her lip curled. "His picture is up on our website. If you think you've seen Isaac O'Connor, once again, call-"

The shot hit the target by the bullseye, and blew it all up in a pit of red aura, like flame and electricity-- like a surge of power. She might have screamed when she let the shot go, and that might have been the cause of the twitch-- very slight, gone the next moment-- in her grandfather's eye. Isabel wiped away at the sweat along her forehead, and Master Guerra took a step closer. He was laughing, that genuine belly laugh that used to make Isabel giggle because it was such a happy sound; it annoyed her, now. "Very well, Isabel! Job well done! You must be training hard!"

She glanced at him from the side with lidded eyes, not even bothering to turn her head, as her wrist wiped the sweat from the edge of her face. "Yeah," he watched her as she straightened up and turned for the stairs, grabbing the towel she'd brought down and slinging it over her shoulders. She needed a shower, some soup, and a move she could turn on while she lounged around and ate chips for the remainder of the day. "Maybe."

Isabel sighed and ran the fresh towel through her hair, humming as she padded into her room, shutting the door behind her with the heel of her foot. The hot water had been soothing against her sore muscles, and perhaps even more soothing against whatever mood had been boiling in her before. Irritation had become a friend of hers lately, one that visited unannounced and stuck around until she did something, anything, to kick it from her system until the next day; usually this meant training overtime. It was all she could do to stay sane, not blow up on Max or Dimitri or Ed or even Mister Spender. She'd been overly sensitive (for her, anyway), she knew it, she just didn't know why.

Isabel ran the towel over the roots of her hair, lips coming together to smile as she tilted her head back and enjoyed the feel of her nails massaging her scalp. She'd needed that.

Now to just figure out what she wanted to watch…

The familiar ring of her cellphone and the resulting vibration from her nightstand made her head whip around, eyebrow raising, smile forming, as she crossed her room to get to it, leaving her towel to hit the floor (she'd hang it up later). She almost hoped it was a mission, or maybe some kind of investigation job. She could use the fresh air.

Isabel grabbed the phone and snapped it open with one flick of her wrist, bringing it to her ear without looking at the number. "Hello?"

"What's up, my Iz-dog?"

She snorted. "Ed!" She raised a hand to stifle the little bit of surprised laughter, but she was sure he heard it anyway. "Hey! What's up?"

"Waiting around for training to start. Homeschool is not as fun as you'd think it would be. Not a single one of my teachers let me wear pajamas to class, and only one let me go back to bed when I was done with my work," She snorted again, but let the her laughter run free so he could hear it. He probably wanted to, was probably trying to make her laugh "and that was only because I accidentally threw a paper airplane at their eye."

"Ed."

"It wasn't my fault! Once those things are out of your hand, they are out of your hand. I had no idea a paper airplane would become an issue of class safety and not conduct."

She shook her head and plopped down on the side of her bed, leaning back to rest her hand on the other edge of her twin. "Any clue when you're coming to visit?"

"Uh," she could imagine him leaning against the wall of Master Hashimoto's training room, one hand in the pocket of his jeans, head lulling to the side the way it always did when he was tired. She was willing to bet he had less energy than before, now that he was actually putting effort into his training. She wondered if he had time to play video games anymore, now that he didn't have to go to and from Hashimoto's and Guerra's an hour both ways. He always had enough time to call her-- once a day, no less. She was thankful, though she would have preferred seeing him in person. "Not sure! But I'm aiming to visit next weekend!"

"Really?" She shot up, then immediately clamped a hand over her mouth. That was too excited, too happy, too much. Her cheeks burned, but she kept her lips shut like she'd glued them. As much as she trusted Ed, as much as she knew he was a safe place and he would never, ever make fun of her… Isabel sighed and fell back against her comforter, a smile inching across her lips. "That's great! You know, you should bring your console back for the weekend. We never did beat that boss from-"

"Yeah!" He sounded as ecstatic as she felt, and it was a giddiness and a lightness she hadn't been accustomed to in a long time, enough that it unnerved her. "So, what's been up over there?"

She snickered. "Oh, I am so glad you asked…"

Isaac's phone was probably long dead by now. Max knew this.

It didn't stop him from staring at Isaac's contact information, squinting at it, hoping not-quite-consciously that there'd be some hint to go off of, some huge clue he was missing that could lead them right to him. There wasn't. Max shut his phone and let the hand hang leisurely over the side, staring up at the ceiling, waiting for the urge to get up or go to sleep or something to hit him. All that came was unease, the sense that something was horribly, horribly wrong. It'd been that way since Isaac skipped town, but he'd managed to quash the feeling most of the day. It was just when nightfall came, and his dad was off doing whatever and Zoey was off doing something super-whatever, that he was left alone with his thoughts and that unease had a hand in all of them.

How was he eating? How was he drinking? Where did he sleep? Was he hurt?

Max groaned lifted his other forearm over his eyes, like blocking the light of his room would do anything. Those thoughts weren't daylight or nightlight manifestations and he knew it. They were always there, had been for the last month, beating on the back of his mind the way an annoying remix of a good song would stick with him.

And it all stemmed from the sinking feeling he had when he ran up the steps to that abandoned home and found only Doorman there.

I hurt Dimitri, could have hurt all of you, too.

I wanted you to hate me. I thought it was the only way to get you all to see me as something other than the club mascot…

Because I couldn't take the blame like I should have, I stepped way out of line and broke my own oath. Well, now I'm ready.

Max grinded his teeth, hand thrown across her face clenching.

I guess this is goodbye. Thanks for keeping me around while you did.

He rolled over to his side, making the decision to pass out before the unsettled hole is his stomach got any worse.

Meditating had gotten easier, way easier. He could balance without trouble nowadays, and Master Hashimoto rarely had to step in and readjust his limbs so that he was working his core more. He walked with a straight back more often than he slumped, and slept easier, too. The only issue laid with his concentration-- it ran from him and often times he felt like a hunter down on his luck. Some days were better than others, but the last week had been… particularly grueling. He tried to keep his mind on Isabel, on the lessons he'd learned since joining Hashimoto, but his mind would wander, and he'd start to feel agitated, and then--

Ed yelped as something hard and hollow knocked him upside the head, knocking him right off the plank of wood. He landed on his chin, legs up in the air, waving around as he struggled to catch up with reality. Ed winced and pressed the palms of his hands against the floor, pushing himself to sit up on his knees, then raised one hand to the sore spot at the back of his head. So much for being balanced. "Ow! Hey! What was that for?"

Master Hashimoto stood towering over him from behind, looking gruff with the scrunch of his mustache and the unamused, narrowed look of his eyes.

Ed pouted at him, crossing his legs to sit more comfortably. Hashimoto came around to stand in front of him, placing the cane before himself and setting either hand at the tip of its shiny knob.

"You would not have fallen had you not already been unbalanced." Ed exhaled and leaned back against the plank of wood, hands gripping at his calves. Hashimoto tilted his head. "I sense there is something troubling you."

"It's one of the other students." He knew better than to keep things from his master. At best it would delay the inevitable, and he didn't care to go through so many emotional hoops for the second time that year. "She said that I liked Izzy, like, like-liked her. I mean, that's ridiculous! I grew up with her! She's like a sister to me!"

Hashimoto hummed, fingers brushing against his long, flowing beard, which Ed often joked with the other students looked more like a well-groomed dog's tail- a show dog, the kind that got paraded around.

"Well, Ed, if you were confident in that, you wouldn't still be thinking about it."

No. Not him, too. Not even the freaking master!

Ed parted his lips to say something, but whatever was heating the blood under his cheeks was doing a good job of clogging his throat, too, and he dropped his pointed finger and clamped his mouth shut.

"Suzy."

"Hmm?"

"Maybe you should lay off on the tea" Collin said this as he poured her another cup.

Suzy took it in grateful hands, then tilted it up to take the smallest, innocent sip from its rim. It was black breakfast tea, her favorite, and she took it bitter more often than not, no cream or honey or even a small bag of splenda. "It's calming."

"It's caffeinated, just like coffee, and you've downed, like, ten mugs of it."

Suzy grunted and raised one hand to wave him off, which Collin granted with a roll of his eyes, retreating to the desk to set the eighth thermos down, mumbling to himself about the rush of energy he was awaiting with no great excitement. Suzy, on the other hand, was far more preoccupied with the taste, taking a moment each sip to roll the flavor on her tongue before taking another sip and repeating. She had to concentrate on that. Had to.

There was a knock at the door, and they both lifted their heads, momentarily distracted from the nothingness that was their schedule, and looked at it.

"Collin--"

"Already on it."

Suzy sighed and went back to sipping her tea. The journalism club hadn't gotten any visitors, not that she was surprised. Nobody had taken her up on her offers to publish their personal watched-my-life-flash-before-my-eyes story, and Collin had informed her multiple times on multiple occasions that they never would; though she'd been stubborn to admit it, Suzy had come around to admitting that Collin might have been right, and maybe people didn't want to relive that sort of thing for a school newspaper. She doubted it was a story at the door, and even if it was, the school didn't seem to be keeping up with club hours anymore-- not since the monster attack.

She took another sip, though she swallowed without tasting it first.

Collin opened the door and-- surprise, surprise-- Maxwell Puckett stood on the other side, one of Suzy's posters, the ones for Isaac, in hand, and held it up to his face. She blinked. "Hey, Max."

"Hi, Suzy. Quick question." He wriggled the poster around, glancing over her curled form almost sardonically with a twitch in his eye. His posture was stiff, like he was sore and he was trying not to move too much or he'd hiss, and his fingers seemed to have long-since wrinkled the top edges of the poster- a sign he was gripping it tighter than need be. "What good is this doing, exactly?"

Suzy huffed and set the mug down, setting her feet, which had been curled with her in the chair, to the floor as she stood up, patting out her shorts. "Well, it's something."

Collin sighed and let Max in, shutting the door behind him with a narrowed, almost annoyed, look on his face. "Do yourself a favor and don't get her started on that."

"I already told you guys. He's not in Mayview anymore!"

"Well, do you have any better ideas?

"No! But wasting this much paper" Max shook the poster around for emphasis "probably isn't helping anyone!"

Suzy balled her fists, rage coiling in her, heat rushing to her face and her hands and her eyes. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, back, just to defend herself and what she was doing, but Collin slipped a hand over her lips; against her better judgement, she let him silence her. He sighed, and glanced between herself and Max until he was sure he had the attention of both. "Okay, how about we all just agree that these posters aren't really helping," he looked at her, and she leveled him with a glare "but it's all we can do" He looked to Max, who scowled and glanced to the floor, lips thin.

After a moment, Max's eyes met hers, and she saw an uncertainty where before she'd seen irritation, a lack of confidence she didn't think she'd ever seen in Maxwell Puckett before. Though he hid it well, his jaw clenched, and she could feel his aura looming over them, even if she couldn't see it. It was an itch. His eyes drifted downward, to the poster in his hand, then to the floor again, and her eyes did the same. Collin lifted his hand from her mouth, and she mumbled. "How is Dimitri doing?"

Max blinked, eyes wider for a second as though surprised, but a small smile found its way to his face, even if it wasn't as genuine as he might've liked her to believe. "He's doing all right! He's fitting into the club like a glove!"

Suzy nodded and excused herself for a moment to get more hot, bitter tea.

Mayview was as sunny as she remembered it, though she'd always preferred it when the city was cold and overcast in the nigh of winter. Sometimes, when she had a moment to herself, she'd visit, like so. After all, she'd spent a great many years calling it home.

It was the place she hated most.

She brushed a strand of loose hair behind her ear, breathing in the scent of fall, which still smelled as she remembered it for Mayview-- Pumpkin, a few days closer to expiration than one usually preferred, alongside the dull spices and the staleness of the cold air that'd always swept her into dreaming of snow days, though she knew they were months away. It was a feeling she'd known intimately for other reasons as of late, the anticipation of something coming, the drive that'd been motivating her so long.

Then the sight of Mayview from the tallest hill faded, and she found with no sense of distress that the world around her had become clustered with holes in the sky in shades of deep blues and purples and tears in shades of black only she knew existed.

"Catriona."

She hummed, but did not turn her head.

Strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her into a toned chest where she could feel a familiar heartbeat against the hammering of her own. "Something is bothering you, my love."

"Whether they're willing or not" she frowned and nibbled at her bottom lip "I simply can't find it in myself to kill these spirits for the sake of our mission."

He hummed, sound similar to her own in its sweetness but deeper in its rumble. "It is for the greater good, you must remember that. They see the way you and I do." He pressed a kiss to her cheek, and a treacherous smile found her. "Though, I'd find it hard to believe anyone may resist you."

"Emmerich, you flatter me." She twisted in his arms, wrapping her own around his neck and leaning into him. He was tall, taller than many men, though he stood like one, with claws round but sharp on each finger. His skin, though splotched with the same shades as his universe, was soft and felt as human as her own. She ran her hands over his head, one hand using its fingers to weave through the silk that was his cyan hair, wrapped in a horse tail. He smiled at her, and her eyes glossed over his black teeth. "We've already failed our first mission, what is to stop us from failing again?"

"Experience, my love" His hands squeezed her hips, a physical affirmation "and we did not fail. It may take more than one attempt, but it will be done."

She leaned up, and he leaned down, and she pressed her lips to his. There was no caution, no exploration- he was a part of her, and they knew each other better than anyone else.

Isaac winced as he laid down across another bus stop in what should have been another neighborhood. He was moving slowly, but that wasn't a problem when he had no destination. What is a problem is this cut on my arm. That spirit really took a swing at me. He glanced down at it, wincing as he took in the cold sting of blood, dying the material of his shirt a deep red. It'd stopped running a good hour ago, but it still stung like nothing he'd had before, and he'd have a hard time sleeping with it.

What was there to do about it?" He cautiously ran a finger over the wound, and hissed when the stinging multiplied. He'd have to steal bandages from somewhere. But where? A hospital? He couldn't do that! Other people, possibly worse off than him, needed those bandages and needed that ointment, and he couldn't very well walk into the clinic. That came with a mass of questions he wouldn't be able to answer, or even begin to think about answering. Isaac sighed and leaned upwards. He'd just have to figure it out come the morning.

Cheesesteak subs were a gift from God to men, and there were few things Spender was so vehemently convinced of. Day seemed equally as enthralled with her food, and she chomped more than happily into their late lunch-- his treat. It was a shame the meeting wasn't under less dire circumstances. Though each bite of his food was delicious, there was a sour taste to the back of his throat. Of course there would be something wrong, something he'd have to fix, and it would take time to figure out just how to go about doing that-- which wouldn't have been so bad, had he ever been in Time's favor. Day looked up, and he met her with a smile, though he knew she couldn't see it.

"So, Mister Spender, have you found that missing student of yours yet?"

He paused before taking another bite, licking his lips because they suddenly felt dry, and sighed. "No, I'm afraid I haven't."

Day paused in her bite, too, a small frown forming on her face. Her brows furrowed, and she tilted her head. "Oh. I'm so sorry."

"It's fine, it's fine." It wasn't. "Have you made any progress in your research? I know you've finished interviewing the student body recently. Did you find anything worth noting?" Perhaps it was too cut and dry, too to-the-point, but he needed to-- had to-- change the subject.

She blinked, and for a moment he thought he'd been too forward. Day's head tilted, and then she chomped into her sub, chewed, and swallowed hard before fixing him with a smile. "You trust me to be truthful?"

"Well, it's my school. I'll be finding out regardless."

"Yes, I suppose that's true! Hm hm!" She giggled and set her food down, using the napkin she'd set in her lap to wipe excess grease from her hands. "Especially with the magnitude of my findings."

His heart dropped. He'd been expecting something, of course, but he hadn't anticipated… well, something of great consequence. What could she have possibly gotten from a bunch of students scared senseless? "Oh? What did you find?"

"Well, the entire school, including your peers, Mister Spender, is traumatized."

Was that all? He exhaled, expelling all of the tension that'd strung up his neck and shoulders, let himself relax. "Oh, well, while that isn't good, it is what I expected. Trauma or not, we're going to have to come up with a really good excuse to explain why those things attacked our school" he looked to his sub, fingers tapping along the bun on either side "and what they were."

Day continued to smile at him, setting the napkin onto the table and leaning forward. "I'm afraid you won't have to make excuses, Mister Spender. We're well past that, unfortunately." He looked back to her, then, eyebrows furrowed, lips parting to ask for clarification. She set her chin in her hands, still, somehow, smiling even as the importance of her words hung over him, potentially like a guillotine. "From my findings, I've concluded that 70-80% of Mayview Middle have begun exhibiting early signs of paranatural ability."

#Paranatural #Isabel Guerra #Edward Burger #Maxwell Puckett #Isaac O'Connor #Richard Spender #Agent Day #maxaac #edsabel #pnat #The Monster Trilogy #WOHT

[sneakyhomunculous]

Thrill of the Hunt

Hey everyone, I just want to get some of my thoughts down onto the page. This is mostly just me rambling my thoughts on the current state of OP and Competitive Magic in general. Disclaimer: I have been a lifelong competitive player. My first games of magic were FNM booster drafts 15+ years ago against some unbelievable competition. From day 1 I was drawn in to the fierce competition in the game. I know that I am privileged; Undeniably lucky and advantaged in every way before I even get in the que. I’m a white cis male who grew up middle class in the US with supportive parents. I was able to spend my free time cutting my teeth on Magic Online and traveling to local PTQs/GPs. But this post is not going to be about where you are from; or what challenges you may face personally; or what hurdles your demographic have had to overcome. All of that stuff is completely true and valid. I will touch on it lightly, and I am happy that things are being done to address some of those issues in Magic. That being said; This is going to be solely about the drive for fair competition that burns inside of every single one of us. Inside every single person reading this; Every person that has played this game for probably half of their life or more. For every person that has spent 1000s of waking and/or dreaming hours thinking about decklists, new formats, new ideas, old formats, old theory, new theory; All the while completely forgetting that their is any life outside of competitive Magic The Gathering. For every person that plays this game in search of something they can’t really define. It’s not exactly the validation of self improvement; or the highs of the good finishes. Or even the good times with friends and all the learning we get to do along the way. It’s simply the constant burning desire for competition. Going into battle against a sea of villains who are all fighting for the same thing you are. That upper hand in this ruthless game of marginal edges. I was never part of the “Old Boys Club”. I was always an outsider; a local end boss at best. In my 15 years of being a competitive player; I have played in only 20 or so GPs, 7 PTs and a few SCG tournaments (5 or so). I have always had other commitments (School, Full time Job, Wife and 3 kids), and I never focused 100% on magic as a job or anything. Despite all of this, I was always totally enthralled by the Pro Tour. I know I am not alone. I spent years traveling to PTQs in the South and found that there were 100s of local players who wanted the exact same thing as me. 1000s worldwide all chasing the same dream. The dream of mastering this beautiful game and moving up to the very highest level. The Pro Tour was an enigma; until you played in it. Once you did, you realized how right you were all along. The entire reason you played the game was for your shot in those 16 (17! 👌🏻💪🏻) rounds. The current state of the PT/Wizards Organized Play is still mostly a disaster. Everyone sort of knows this, but it seems that most people don’t care to admit it. (They usually either benefit directly from the current system, or they are incentivized to “be cordial” in hopes of one day benefiting from the climb up the ranks of the popularity contest. They say nothing or even back up the new status quo.) Shoutout to the true hero’s like GerryT and Lucas Berthoud. They benefited from the RNG in the system and still stood up for the fairness of competition. To the Edel’s and Soorani’s; keep fighting the good fight. I will always tell it like it is. At this point they are going further and further into the wrong direction. Magic is completely peaking; unfortunately OP is floundering around hopelessly. The only way to make anything happen right now is to win tournaments. No 2nd places. No top 8s. No good run,nice 11-5 see u in a few months. You have to be ruthless and collect trophies. If you don’t do this, at the moment you are an afterthought. That being said, I am coming for the trophies. When I win the Players Tour Finals 1 and then the World Championship you don’t have to worry; I will still be screaming for organized play to be about open and fair competition. The reality is simple; The highest echelon of competition is now DIRECTLY mingled with one giant absurd petty ridiculous unbelievable comically hilariously awkwardly stupidly infuriating POPULARITY CONTEST. This is mind boggling for so many reasons. It doesn’t have to be this way! No system is ever going to be perfect. It’s impossible to make everyone happy. It’s impossible to be 100% fair. But you could at least fake it? Just try a little bit?? Having invitationals is awesome. Invite Savjz and Day9 and then whoever you want to help out with the diversity issue. But don’t tie them directly in to the Pro Tour results??? And then make them 3x important as the Paper Pro tour Results???? It literally makes so little sense and is so infurating I cannot believe how little has been said about it. I know Wily and Lucas Kai etc. talk about it often. But 25+ of the MPL all pretty much silent on it. Even the people on the bubble aren’t raising hell!!? I can’t imagine being someone who grinds and did well in multiple paper MCs this year, who is now on the bubble of rivals or MPL (that they found out about randomly over halfway through the season) and not invited to most or any of these Arena MCs!! They are OBSCENE tournaments already; 750K prizepool for a small group of players. The EV is unbelievable. And they just PILE on the Mythic Points or whatever BS system they use. It’s like worth double or more points of the Paper PTs 🤦🏻‍♂️😂😵 Siggy and I were talking while I was waiting to play my Quarterfinal match of the last fucking Pro Tour. I was in the top 8!! Siggy had just gotten 10th. I told him how bittersweet it is. With PTs mattering less and no1 caring anymore; I don’t feel as excited as I expected I would. It helped me focus as I know that winning is the only result that matters. I can get 2nd and no1 will remember me. I will not be invited to the next Pro Tour on Arena in a month. In 2 paper PTs from now I will not be there at all unless I top 8 the next one too!! (Or I get on the good side of some Wizards people maybe, or up my clout and twitter followers.) People say this stuff as a joke, but even in this PT top 8 I felt alienated a bit. Ondrej was getting literal hugs from all of the staff before the quarters even started because they know him from inviting him to things, because he calls himself Honey and smiles and is nice and streams. I love Ondrej and I believe he’s a really great player and deserves to be playing these tournaments anyway; It’s just wild to me that at the literal highest possible level of competition it’s still about some things other than the competition. Lucas and others have covered it, but in no other games/esports is this the case. When you watch the TI; or even the Fortnite World Championship... You don’t see famous players or clout farmers. You see unbelievable talent and dedication, the absolute best of the best who clearly earned their way. You don’t see Marshmello and Drake; or even Ninja and his buddies. You see 100 kids between the ages of 13-20 you’ve never heard of; who are all so unbelievably good it will give you the chills. Siggy said something along the lines of “Yeah it is really weird; I got 10th for 5k which is just an unbelievable result obviously. But the Arena PT next month is worth like 5x. You get 7500$ for dead last! And so many points!!” Congrats Siggy, but I won’t be playing in the Arena PT. Neither will 1000s of players who have played in the handfuls of paper PTs over the past few years. SEPERATE THEM! Have all the Arena Invitationals you want. Spend as much money on that as you want. We can take the slaps in the face it’s no big deal. “250k PLAYERS TOUR FINALS! Qualify by winning FIRST PLACE in a GP this season!!! Only 128 Players very exclusive wow wow cool we have to kill the pro tour to make this happen but it’s awesome woohoooooo” “Cominggggg to Long Beach Californiaaaaaaa Your 3Million$$$$$ Arena Mythic Professional Tour Championship of the Universe!!!!!!!!!!! 38 Unbelievable challengers will be taking on this new format and chopping up the 3 million$ plus 100s of Mythic pojnts catapaulting them all into the MPL conversation while you argue on twitter about who should have been invited; as if it fucking matters. As if we read that shit at all!!! If we fucking cared about what you think maybe we would respond to you sometimes 😂💪🏻😬👌🏻👌🏻💯” Just relax; stop giving away rivals/MPL points in tournaments that are invite based and already so high profile with massive prize pools. (This doesn’t affect me at all by the way; I am not even close on points it’s just very obviously the right thing to do and it’s unbelievable they aren’t acknowledging it and just continuing to invite whoever they feel like). Ok enough clowning... but for real though. What in the fuck is this popularity contest bullshit?? How is this being joked about so lightly, it’s an abomifuckingnation! Invite whoever you want, just pick some people based on some predetermined merit. Give people a chance. Something to shoot for. Have open tournaments for people from Australia and Latin America. Have open qualifier tournaments for females/NB Invite people who deserve to be there from previous PT performance like Allen Wu or Eli Loveman or Matt Sperling or Sebastian Pozzo or TheSneakyhomunculous or Jack MF Dobbin or Lan d Ho and Mark herberholz for all I care. Just give the people some feedback on anything ever! Ok enough is actually enough I could write forever about OP and what I wish they would do. But really all we can ask for is fair competition and clear communication. People will complain about anything and everything, but if Wizards would just be open and honest while communicating and promoting fair competition at the highest levels... I couldn’t give 2 shits how little money the tournaments pay or where we have to play them. We just want to have a fighting chance to play against Paulo and Luis and Kai and Yuki and Allen Wu and Zvi and Gab and Seth and Li and Lucas and Shota. Aside: Arena is also a disaster at this point. How can they not implement a friends list? Any programming/computer scientist people know what the fuck is going on? It’s been 2 years now and they are still printing $ faster than a magic streamer from outside the US with 10k+ twitter followers can print with 500000 Arena PTs on the horizon! And they still can’t fix anything ever? How is there no spectator mode or tourney mode? How is building a sealed deck still impossible? How is the best fucking computer you can find lagging after 5 matches no matter what? We gotta figure this shit out m8. Arena should have nice big competitive in client tournaments every day. At least one or two a week. Instead we can’t even draft the fucking current format? The bots can’t fucking click on Merfolk Secretkeeper? 3 cards in pack they really click deafening silence over the secretkeeper???? God dammit GG’s no re sorry u had to read this. TL;DR Old Man Yells at Clouds

[samingtonwilson]

Prisoner- Jim Kirk

Title: Prisoner

Prompt: a part of the BBTM series. Prisoner by the weeknd featuring lana del rey. no one is imprisoned in this story it is called that because of the song it is based off of. 

Word count: 2,441 including the lyrics

Warnings: language, nothing else hopefully

A/N: IT’S BEEN SO LONG! i’ve been so busy running all over india, i’ve barely been able to write! well, finally, i’m posting something and that should be it for the next few days since my mom’s coming back to mumbai tomorrow and we’re finally gonna get to do stuff again that’s fun for me (aka shop n eat). i’ll try to write tonight, though, since my cousins are all studying and ask me to sit with them as it is. ENJOY IT AND TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK i havent read this over so idk if it’s any good (oops) forgive the typos that are most likely there

You bring good to my lonely life, honestly It’s hard for me to look into your eyes When I say that I would be nothing without your love I feel the rush and it’s amazing

The mess hall was too loud. Conversations around Jim were more than abuzz and the volume at which the two unwelcome crew members sitting at his table crunched their synthesized celery made his hands form fists beside either edge of his tray, crumpling the pair of napkins he held. The smell of everyone’s food was becoming unbearable— even his own plate disgusted him. He ground his teeth together in reaction.

He narrowed his blue eyes at the glass of ice water before him, ignoring the goodbye’s the aforementioned crew members offered him. He was trying to focus on the condensation wrapped around the glass instead of the sound of your voice coming from the table behind him. He did his best not to twist in his seat to look at you and almost cracked a molar in the process. He wasn’t going to be the first to break— he couldn’t be the first to break.

But it’d only been two days. Two days since you asked Jim to pick— his stubbornness or you, his silence or you, his irrationality or you, his fear or you. At first, his decision was clear. He couldn’t let what he was most afraid of win and he wouldn’t let it. There were reasons he had built the walls he comfortably sat behind and he wasn’t going to give up those reasons— no exceptions. Now, though, the decision he made pinched him the wrong way. His ribs, tired and sore from his heart’s erratic, forceful beats, felt majority of the blow and his stomach only felt emptiness.

He wanted to pick you. He should have picked you.

He shook his head at the thought and pushed himself out of his seat. He straightened his shirt, his eyes on his shoes, and took a step backwards.

A soft clatter came as a result of his blind step and he heard the clicking of a tongue. “Great.”

He looked over his shoulder before turning and facing you as you stared at youe chest, a wet spot starting at the base of your high-neck uniform and ending below your chest. A half-empty glass was still in your hand and ice cubes were littered over the deck plating floor of the Enterprise mess hall. “Fuck.”

He didn’t inhale, he couldn’t exhale.

He wet his lips and held a paper napkin with thousands of wrinkles to you.

You looked up— first at the napkin, then at him, then at the napkin again. You took it from his fingers and looked at your blue uniform.

“Sorry.” He wasn’t sure for what he was apologizing: crashing into you, the inadequacy of his paper napkin that ripped the instant it touched your uniform, or everything else.

“Yeah, whatever.” You inhaled audibly and brought your gaze to meet his— he looked away. You were neither smiling, nor frowning— odd for such an expressive face. “It’s just water.”

Without much regard for his frozen stance, your shoulder brushed and pushed against his as you took steps towards the agape doors. Jim continued to stand, stare, and sigh.

Maybe I’ve been always destined to end up in this place, yeah I don't mean to come off selfish, but I want it all Love will always be a lesson, let's get out of its way Cause I know, all I know, all I know

Jim adjourned the meeting with even less enthusiasm than when he began it— something he, the crew, and anyone else in earshot for his half-hearted introduction didn’t think was possible. He watched as the senior officers on board shuffled out of the room, trying to keep his eyes away from you and Leonard as you spoke even though you were a constant blue blur in his peripheral vision.

“Captain?”

Jim’s gaze met yours immediately. He stood up straighter and unclenched his jaw. He pulled on the hem of his shirt and the high-necked collar felt suffocating.

He didn't know what to say— and his choice made him frown. “Hi.”

You offered him the smallest smile he’d ever seen from you and it lasted for a much-too-short moment. “Captain, I just wanted to make sure you've thought the away party through.”

He tried not to show how much you calling him ‘Captain’ truly bothered him. He wanted to look indifferent. “What do you mean?”

“You’re sending Doctor McCoy and Doctor M’Benga alongside majority of the attending physicians.”

“And?”

You frowned and leaned back against the table behind you, your hands flat against the surface. “It leaves me without much help— which I don't need for current patients. It's just leaving me alone in the medbay when we’re triaging a Federation border planet after a Klingon attack—”

“The Enterprise isn't at risk.”

“I’m just saying, it’s a possibility that—”

“The Klingons that attacked Caleb IV aren’t the toughest, nor are they the most intelligent. They won’t be able to harm the Enterprise.”

“But—”

“With the risk of sounding too much like Spock, there’s no logical reason to worry.”

He watched one of your eyebrows arch upwards. It was the most expression he'd seen over your features in some time. It was oddly satisfying. “At all?”

“From what I've been told: yes.”

“Don’t you usually say nothing is certain is space?”

“Do I?”

You tilted your head. “Send me, too.”

Jim snorted. “Why?”

“Bones and I work faster together than any of the other physicians you’re sending,” you said with a shrug. You then mumbled under your breath, “Especially Krishna and Sirleaf, who basically have one foot in the grave each.”

“Speed’s not at the top of my list of priorities.”

“Then what is? Efficiency? Surgical precision? Lower risk of post-op infection?” you asked, narrowing your eyes further with each question. “Because those should be, along with speed, in a medical situation. And, in that case, you should send me.”

He snorted again and noticed your features flash in reaction. “No.”

“Captain, —”

“I’m not sending you.”

“Is there a reason?”

He nodded with a frown of consideration. “Yeah. And it’s real good so you’re not going.”

“What if there’s an emergency on the planet?”

“If there’s an emergency on the planet and Bones is suddenly unable to do his job,” he began, narrowing his eyes a bit as he let his gaze travel over the empty conference room, “then he has M’Benga and the residents to take over, he has Krishna and Sirleaf to take over, he has nurses. If by some catastrophe all of them are unable to their jobs, we can beam patients aboard.”

“What if—”

“Besides, I need a senior medical officer without their foot in a grave on board.”

“Why? I thought nothing could happen to the Enterprise.”

“That was before I was reminded of the uncertainty of space,” Jim nearly snapped. “And no ‘what if’s’— they’ll never run out and aren’t worth discussing.”

You crossed your arms over your chest and your eyebrows came together. You looked like a stubborn child. “So you’re just going to keep me on board no matter what?”

He pretended to consider it. “Yeah, I am.”

“Why?”

“I already told you: I need a senior medical officer in the medbay.” His voice had grown angrier and his jaw was tensed. He took a short step towards you.

“Then keep M’Benga! He’s got more experience than I do!”

“You’re Bones’ second-in-command since M’Benga decided to take it slow,” he returned, in a louder volume that matched yours. “Having you on board is the closest thing to having him on board.”

You looked away for a short moment and met Jim’s eyes with a light behind your pupils. “In that case, Bones can stay on board and I’ll go.”

“No,” he said after snorting for a third time. “Absolutely not.”

“What? Why? Bones could run the medbay! Wouldn’t it be better to have the real thing instead of a second-string back-up?”

Jim could feel his teeth grinding and his chest puffing out. The anger that rolled off his body in waves didn’t force you back when he moved another inch forward. In fact, he noticed your pupils dilate. “No, (Y/N).”

You looked up at him from where you sat back against the table. “But—”

He leaned over a bit to put his hands on the table, his nose brushing against yours. His oceanic eyes followed yours, only stopping to glance at your lips. “Why are you so dead-set on going?”

“Why are you so dead-set on keeping me here?”

When he kissed you, he kissed you in a way that made him almost forget what you two were arguing about, why you’d been separated for so long, even his own name. He loved kissing you— the way your lips moved against his, the way you pulled on the hair at the nape of his neck, the way your skin felt under his hands.

He wound his arm around your waist and lifted you from the table once your legs were wrapped around him. He spun around to push you against the wall that was previously behind him, sighing at the feeling of your body against his.

As his lips moved to your neck, your voice shook, “We’re broken-up—”

“Stop calling me ‘Captain,’” he said onto your skin, drawing a gasp out of you when he bit down. “That’s not all I am to you.”

You pulled on his hair to bring his eyes back to yours. You were whispering when you spoke, “Then what are you? We’re not together anymore— all you are is my captain.”

He watched your eyes and felt his heart drop to his stomach. “I don’t want that.”

“And I don’t want to date you again,” you shook your head. “You put me through enough.”

“We don’t have to date.” He wanted to, though.

Before he kissed you again, he paused an inch from your lips. “You’re still not going on that mission.”

I’m a prisoner to my addiction I’m addicted to a life that’s so empty and so cold I’m a prisoner to my decisions Woooo, woooo, woooo

Jim was growing tired. He didn’t understand why the bags under his eyes never faded and his skin was nearly translucent. His voice was huskier, raspier than usual and his hair seemed to never behave. It was as if the wrinkles on his command yellow shirt appeared and stuck around to match the wrinkles creasing the skin of his forehead.

He was forced into the medbay by Leonard— something about his friend being concerned in a friendly way. Truthfully, Leonard was more concerned about being captained through the never-ending abyss of outer space by a man without any form of energy and every form of unhappiness; he couldn’t be bothered to keep up with the inner workings of Jim’s complicated love life.

As Jim sat in Leonard’s office, he spoke only when handed a newly refilled glass of scotch and it was a simple “thank you” he would offer— he didn’t know what to say otherwise. Leonard was okay with the silence, though, and didn’t pry much more than a simple, “How is everything?” to which he received a shrug in response.

Once Jim was able to excuse himself from the awkward silent drinking session, he walked down the corridors of the starship without any authority in his posture. His shoulders were slumped and his back bent, he completed the look with a small frown that didn’t change no matter who he nodded a greeting towards.

His back straightened when he reached your door, however, and he did his best to do away with his frown as he knocked. He pulled on the hem of his shirt then.

“There has to be something better you can do with your time, Captain.”

Your voice did away with the exhaustion in his limbs and he was effortlessly able to take steps forward into your quarters. He reached behind him to slap his hand onto the control panel, allowing the door to shut as he continued to stare at you and trace your every feature with his gaze. “There isn’t.”

You resisted the urge to lean into his hand as his fingers skimmed over your cheekbone and down to trace your jaw, cupping your cheek and letting his thumb graze over your lips next. You had to stop yourself from sighing. “You look like you need rest.”

He shook his head and clicked his tongue, pressing his lips to yours for moments that were much too short. “What I need is you. Rest is secondary.”

“That’s an interesting thing to say to someone who isn’t your significant other.”

He clicked his tongue before claiming your lips with his once more. “It’s a normal thing to say to someone I spend the night with every night.”

“Say that out loud one more time and you’ll spend this night with your hand.”

He tilted his head. “What, the acknowledgement too much for you?”

“Yes,” you answered, helping him remove his shirt as he walked forwards and you walked backwards in the direction of your bed. “I prefer to pretend this isn’t happening, to pretend that you broke-up with me and I made the sound choice to be done with you.”

“You’re not done with me,” he wanted to ask you, but instead stated it like he was sure— perhaps to bolster his own belief. “Just like I’m not done with you.”

He felt you shiver against him when he pressed his lips to your neck once your t-shirt was tossed aside, his fingers moving up your bare sides. You remained silent as he joined your lips once more, allowing him to control your every move as he guided you towards the bed even more.

He stopped kissing you then. “You’re okay?” he asked, looking over your features as if to memorize them.

You nodded. “Yes. I just— I don’t understand why we aren’t done with each other yet. There’s no emotional fulfillment, it doesn’t make any sense. It’s like an unbreakable habit almost.”

Although he knew what drew him to you— your smile, the smell of your hair, the way you wrinkled your nose when you laughed, just everything about you— he knew you were drawn to him without identifiable reason. If anything, he knew you had reason to be repelled by the thought of him. So, with the intention not to risk anything doing away with his habit, Jim only shrugged.

#jim kirk #jim kirk x reader #kirk imagine #jim kirk imagine #star trek #star trek imagine #prisoner

[tumblunni]

LETS THINK ABOUT BREAKFAST RPG Protagonist: a cute lil girl of some sort. Maybe named Cherry or Gateau or something adorable. Maybe a cherry shaped hat? Maybe shes like a chef magical girl. Or maybe just use default assets from rpgmaker cos the point is to get the game done and not over think it. And then like a tutorial character/rival who's like THE BRUNCH DEMON or something! Some really inexplicable reaper-lookin monster who has a goofy cute personality and is protag's friend/enemy/Robbie rotten. She runs a rival restaurant, comes in like plankton to steal le secret formula but also inexplicably constantly pops up in the tutorials, having a tea party with protag on the loading screen, etc. Self-sabotaging helping the poor kid out because deep at heart she's a nice ol monster! And then the third character is just The Office Guy. Some completely ordinary working Joe who has a breakfast magical girl pop into his life for no rational reason. *toast keeps appearing* *screams* First level is just you making him breakfast (and him freaking out), then you progress through stuff like impressing his boss with a birthday cake or whatever, to improve the poor sod's life. (While he continues screaming at all this magically appearing food, probably starts seeing a psychiatrist) And then eventually he just accepts it and you open a restaurant together. ...and then he has to compete against this giant monster brunch chef, and starts screaming all over again. STATS AND ELEMENTS! Maybe just keep stats exactly the same but give them funny renames? Or rename em to what they symbolise within this particular game. So like... Maybe speed = overall cooking skill? Cos it means you can attack faster and use more actions before the end of the time limit, its basically the most important skill for making complex foods. And I dunno, attack and magic attack could be... Cut and whisk? Savoury and sweet? Food and drink? If you had to divide all breakfast items into only two categories, how would you do it? I'm not sure what to do about the two kinds of defense. I mean.. I know what I want them to be but its hard to summarise it in one word. Could just be like defense against food based injuries (burning, etc) and defense against food-spoiling moments (getting eggshell in the bowl, overcooking, etc). Like one is actual defense and one lowers the odds of random events that harm you. So you get less penalties for failing. Oh, or maybe just have it as savoury defense and sweet defense and then luck affects your failure penalties/success bonuses? But I wanted to rename luck as ~love~ and say its the most important ingredient! XD "Elements" would be where the cooking styles come into play! Enemies would have a lot of tags, like tomato is savoury, fruit AND vegetable, and classed as an entree rather than a main dish component. Can only be used as ingredients, toppings and side orders. And most food would have a flavour but I dunno really what to define tomato as? Or potato. So there should be a sort of neutral flavour element that's just as important as the others. Like.. Calm flavour. Balance flavour. Foundation flavour. That's what potatoes and breads and carbs are, they lower down other flavours and act as a base to absorb those flavours, yknow?? They're important! But tomatoes aren't the same even though its hard to categorise them into a flavour. Maybe flavours can combine to make flavours? Tomato could be like... Salty + sweet? Maybe everything has a particular amount of each flavour that they contribute to the dish. So tomato would give +2 salt and +1 sweet. And +1 moist or something. And then your attacks are divided into multiple elements separate from the food elements. Your elements are all cooking techniques, like boil, chop, etc. And levelling up elements unlocks more skills for each one, like triangle cut or finely chopped or minced, or a passive skill that let's you cut tougher stuff like steak! And maybe it'd be clear cut weaknesses like sweet items are weak to mixing, or maybe its just individualized for each ingredient enemy and acts like the real ingredient in real life. I mean it'd be weird if tomatos were weak against going in a fruit pie or whatever... And then like... Combatttt!! I could just go with really basic default battle system but I wanna do elemental madness! And I wanna make it so you have a limited amount of turns, cos that means certain skills wouldn't be viable early on if they take too long, ensuring a good learning curve without having to limit the options too much. Like maybe complex chopping deals less damage but gives better results, so you have to fight harder to achieve that sandwich! Whereas you can just smash the tomato for a one hit kill and have a terrible sandwich. Triple weak to kneading, but logic dictates you ain't wanna do that :P (...maybe get an achievement called Undyne for seeing all the critical fail cut scenes? XD) And I dunno, maybe if you can't defeat the enemy before the time limit you just get an undercooked food that loses some points. And maybe if the enemy defeats you its like "somehow you slipped on a tomato and broke your back" Office dude better appreciate what we do for him! This kitchen is a deathtrap! And maybe early on you just have to complete the recipes the computer gives you, only being able to get bonuses/penalties depending on time taken and etc. Then you can start deciding how you wanna behave during battle- like triangle cut sandwiches or swapping the salad dressing! Then you can actually start selecting from multiple recipes, and multiple ingredients. It just says 'sandwich' and a vague description of what the person likes ('spicy' and 'traditional' and 'vegetarian') and its your job to figure out what to pick to satisfy that. Like maybe they don't want a hoagie or a toastie, and maybe they'd prefer brown bread? And definately can't rely on the easy +5 spicy sausage, we have to battle the far stronger peppers this time! And all the time we'll be seeing new recipes with longer steps and stronger ingredients!! And maybe move on to satisfying multiple customers at once? Have to make a food that contains all their fave things without getting so complicated that it defeats you. Or have no information about what they like and you have to just make multiple dishes that try and cover the full spread of logical possibilities so everyone is happy. At least one vegetarian option, and take care to make sure there's no nuts or gluten on ANYTHING cos we dunno which one the allergic coworker will eat! And then you can move on to outright alchemizing your own recipes by combining different ingredients in a practise mode. You don't get any penalty if you're wrong, and you can help out later missions by unlocking more recipe options, but you still have to pay for ingredients in order to practise. And I'm gonna make sure it is actually possible to win with just the default story unlock recipes, even if it might not be as easy or be able to get five star results. Oh, and probably a mission replay practise mode and/or sidequests, where you can make more money and grind for experience! Maybe even be able to get relationship points with different characters? Like, every day there's a repeatable side quest to keep making breakfast for office guy, like you did in the first level. And it gets more complex as you go on, so you could be making the world's best sandwich by the end! I think maybe also have some kind of morals meter for the [plot thing] that decides what ending you get. Like its not actually good and evil, but its a positive ending and a negative one. Like the best ending requires friendship with both office guy and rival demon, and higher [certain stat]. But you could also get like... Low stat rival demon ending has you selling out to her and the restaurant becomes awful and office guy lives in a cardboard box but at least you're rich. And positive ending might be that you still ditch office guy and fly off together, but you decide to travel the world finding other people in need of cheering up via magic breakfast and bring much happiness to the world~ Its lonely cos you always have to say goodbye to your human friends but at least you have demon rival buddy along for the ride in your immortal brekkie quest~! So yeah! A lot of ideas! I most definitely won't get them all done during the timeframe but I could at least hopefully make a playable demo. So like... Try and get as far as possible using default rpgmaker assets and basic framework, then release it as a teaser for people to see. If it does well then I have a whole bunch of ideas already on how to expand it into a full game, and I could draw fully original art assets and cutscenes to enhance the fun~! I just need to try and decide what the time limit is gonna be and when I'm gonna do it. And raise a lil hype from my friends cos seriously seeing comments and crits on my work is what motivates me beyond all else! Oh, actually, maybe I could do like... Multiple challenges?? "Hey bunni see how much you can make in one weekend" Then release that demo, and see people's comments and crits. Then if people are interested I could try working on it for a week next time and see how much I can improve it! And so on! That'd be good, with feedback and breaks in-between and stuff. And if one idea fails then I can just go back to the three day challenge with a different idea next time ^-^ Making a game out of making a game is a good way to get used to becoming more confident~! Maybe when it gets going then people could even add bonus challenges or something? I'd keep a tally of how many of these challenges I've done, and pretend its 'points', so I have a clear perspective on how productive I'm being. And then bonus points for how much positive response I got from the project, or how many downloads, or something. And then people can start throwing in requests like genre or how many words of dialogue or 'hey, include a shape shifting skill' or 'it has to be only black and white'. That'd help inspire me on what to do AND be challenging fun! And bonus productivity points for learning a new thing!! THIS IS A GOOD CONCEPT YES I could make like a points counter page or sideblog or something. Maybe have a lil doodle of me as a cliche RPG fighter character and when I hit point milestones I level up and draw a new outfit! And switch to magician or whatever when I run out of ideas. Need to find fun ways to motivate myself!!! I have dumb anxiety compulsions to count the tiles on the floor like that'll somehow make my luck better, counting nonexistent points is a nice way to make it less dumb. And making the reward be just the right to draw myself in a cute outfit means I'm guaranteeing I'll draw at least one thing that month, and drawing is a reward and not a job. And k dunno, maybe later on make the rewards stuff like 'you get to work on the big idea you actually wanted to do', so games are a reward not a job. Or 'you get to go to the cinema', so going out alone in scary crowds is a reward not a job. Or just even earn the right to buy a caffeine drink once a month and then that's a better way of beating my addiction! I've been trying to go cold turkey but I've never made it past 15 days cos there's really no reward or incentive or way to tell if I'm doing good. And sometimes I feel like having a lil energy boost would actually help me with finishing a project or something, versus when I'm just drinking it every day for no reason except yum. So if I can have one drink a month I might not even necessarily drink it right away, I'd save it for the last day of a challenge when I'm racing the deadline~! Lotsa ideas!!!

#breakfast rpg #need to think of a catchy name for this challenge so i can make a tag or sideblog #Abg challenge for always b gaming? #nah dat lame