#2024 is such an ugly looking number

[xochimillilili]

Edging myself in a pet's warm tight hole for hours so when the clock hits midnight I'm cumming deep inside them the instant the fireworks outside are exploding

Bringing in the year with me showing them that they're mine, the first thing we see being the sight of their tummy bulging with my warm cum~

[mariacallous]

This is a gift article

In the final week of this election season, the Republican Party is running two different campaigns. One of them is an ugly and angry but conventional political enterprise. Donald Trump and other Republicans make speeches; party operatives seek to get out the vote; money is spent in swing states; television and radio advertisements proliferate. The people running that campaign are focused on winning the election.

Last night, in New York City’s Madison Square Garden, we caught a glimpse of the other campaign. This is the campaign that is psychologically preparing Americans for an assault on the electoral system, a second January 6, if Trump doesn’t win—or else an assault on the political system and the rule of law if he does. Listen carefully to the words of Tucker Carlson, the pundit fired from Fox News partly for his role in lying about the 2020 election. Warming up the crowd for Trump, he mocked the very idea that Kamala Harris could win: “It’s going to be pretty hard to look at us and say, ‘You know what? Kamala Harris, she got 85 million votes because she’s so impressive as the first Samoan Malaysian, low-I.Q., former California prosecutor ever to be elected president.”

“Samoan Malaysian” was Carlson’s way of mocking Harris’s mixed-race background, and “low-IQ” is self-explanatory—but “85 million” is a number of votes she could in fact win. And how, Carlson suggested, could there be such a “groundswell of popular support” for a person he demeaned as a mongrel, an incompetent, an idiot? The answer was clear: There can’t be, and if anyone says it happened, then we will contest it.

All of this is part of the game: the Trump campaign’s loud confidence, despite dead-even polls; its decision, in the final days, to take the candidate outside the swing states to New York, New Mexico, and Virginia, because we’ve got this in the bag (and not, say, because filling arenas in Pennsylvania is getting harder); the hyping of Republican-early-voter numbers, even though no evidence indicates that these are new voters, just people who are no longer being discouraged from voting early. Also the multiple attempts, across the country, to remove large numbers of people from the rolls; the many claims, with no justification, that “illegal immigrants” are voting or even, as Trump implied during the September debate, that illegal immigrants are being deliberately imported into the country in order to vote; Vance’s declaration that he will accept the election results as long as “only legal American citizens” vote.

At Madison Square Garden, Trump doubled down on that rhetoric. He repeated past claims about the “invasion” of immigrants; about “Venezuelan gangs” occupying American cities, even Times Square; and he offered an instant solution: “On day one, I will launch the largest deportation program in American history to get these criminals out. I will rescue every city and town that has been invaded and conquered, and we will put these vicious and bloodthirsty criminals in jail.” But he left open the question of who exactly all these “criminals” might be, because he seemed to be talking about not just immigrants but also his political opponents, “the enemy within.” The United States, he said, “is now an occupied country, but it will soon be an occupied country no longer … November 5, 2024, nine days from now, will be Liberation Day in America.”

The insults we heard from many speakers at Madison Square Garden, including the description of Puerto Rico as “garbage” or of Harris as “the anti-Christ” or of Hillary Clinton as a “sick son of a bitch”—insults that can also be heard in a thousand podcast episodes featuring Carlson, Elon Musk, J. D. Vance, and their ilk—are part of the same effort. Trump’s electorate is being primed to equate his political opposition with infection, pollution, and demonic power, and to accept violence and chaos as a legitimate, necessary response to these primal, lethal threats.

As I wrote earlier this month, this kind of language, imported from the 1930s, has never before been part of mainstream American presidential politics, because no other political candidate in modern history has used an election to undermine the legal basis of the American political system. But if we are an occupied country, then Joe Biden is not the legitimately elected president of the United States. If we are an occupied country, then the American government is not a set of institutions established over centuries by Congress, but rather a sinister cabal that must be dismantled at any price. If we are an occupied country, then of course the Trump administration can break the law, commit acts of violence, or even trash the Constitution in order to “liberate” Americans, either after Trump has lost the election or after he has won it.

This kind of language is not being used accidentally or incidentally. It is not a joke, even when used by professional comedians. These insults are central to Trump’s message, which is why they were featured at a venue he reveres. They are also classic authoritarian tactics that have worked before, not only in the 1930s but also in places such as modern Venezuela and modern Russia, countries where the public was also prepared over many years to accept lawlessness and violence from the state. The same tactics are working in the United States right now. Election workers, whose job is to carry out the will of the voters, are already the subject of violent threats and harassment. At least two ballot boxes have been attacked.

The natural human instinct is to dismiss, ignore, or downplay these kinds of threats. But that’s the point: You are meant to accept this language and behavior, to consider this kind of rhetoric “baked in” to any Trump campaign. You are supposed to just get used to the idea that Trump wishes he had “Hitler’s generals” or that he uses the Stalinist phrase “enemies of the people” to describe his opponents. Because once you think that’s normal, then you’ll accept the next step. Even when that next step is an assault on democracy and the rule of law.

[wachinyeya]

‘Ferrari in a junkyard’: Mules sold at auction are rare, endangered horses

https://washingtonpost.com/climate-environment/2024/08/09/przewalskis-horses-rescued-dna-shrek-fiona/

Hannah Huckabay regularly combs livestock auctions online for horses she can rehabilitate and train at her Colorado ranch. But when she saw a video in February of a mule for sale in Kansas, she could hardly believe what she was seeing.

The stocky animal’s short black mane shot straight up like a mohawk, and its white belly stood out against its tan coat. As it nervously paced in its corral, Huckabay said it bore a striking resemblance to Przewalski’s horse, a critically endangered species she’d learned about while studying equine science.

“I was like, ‘There is no way. That is not a mule,’” Huckabay recalled thinking. “That’s a purebred Przewalski.”

Such a find would be incredibly rare. Once extinct in the wild, around 2,500 Przewalski’s horses remained worldwide as of 2022. They’re native to Mongolia and in June, seven were reintroduced to nearby Kazakhstan as part of an effort to return them to their natural habitats. They are the only truly wild horse remaining (mustangs are feral horses).

But scientists say Huckabay’s hunch appears to be correct. Hair samples from the animal Huckabay purchased - along with a second horse recently surrendered at a Utah sanctuary - were sent to Texas A&M University’s animal genetics lab. Both appear to be Przewalski’s horses, said Rytis Juras, the genetics lab’s director who tested both samples.

The hair test looks for genetic markers associated with different horse breeds to determine an animal’s likely ancestry. Unequivocally confirming that the horses are purebred Przewalski’s and not hybrids would require advanced blood tests that are expensive and would mean sedating the equines.

The blood tests look at the number of chromosomes in a horse’s cells - 66 in a purebred Przewalski, versus 64 in a common horse or 62 in a donkey. An even more advanced version could sequence the horse’s entire genome.

But Juras and two other scientists who reviewed the findings said the hair-test results are reliable.

“If I would have gotten it from a zoo … that would be one thing,” Juras said of receiving the samples. But two random tests with Przewalski’s results were “surprising and a little bit disturbing,” he said. “This is weird.”

How the horse Huckabay found - and the second in Utah - ended up in livestock auctions is a mystery, said Christopher Faulk, a professor of animal science at the University of Minnesota who has studied Przewalski’s horse genetics and also reviewed the DNA results.

“Someone had to have known what they were, they don’t just appear out of anywhere,” Faulk told The Post. “Especially to have been disposed of in that way is even weirder,” he said, since livestock that aren’t purchased at auction can end up in slaughterhouses.

“That’s like finding a Ferrari in a junkyard,” he added.

Huckabay bought the animal for $1,375 in February and, after three weeks in quarantine, the ragged and underweight animal sold as a mule arrived at her ranch outside Denver.

Seeing its features in-person left her even more convinced it was a Przewalski’s horse, she said. With a large clunky head and stiff black mane, her daughter said the horse was so ugly, he was cute, Huckabay recalled. They named him Shrek, after DreamWorks’s beloved ogre.

After almost two months of helping Shrek acclimate, Huckabay’s daughter stumbled upon a video posted on June 9 from a sanctuary in Utah.

“Did we just have a Przewalski mare surrendered?!” the caption read.

Kelsey and Gunnar Bjorklund - who own the Lazy B Equine Rescue and Sanctuary in Utah - suspected their mare was also a Przewalski. But they had no idea there was a second possible Przewalski, saved from another auction.

The Bjorklunds’ horse was brought to their facility after being purchased for $35 in January at an auction in Utah, where she was advertised as a mule.

“It takes more money to get your nails done,” Kelsey said, adding that her previous owner decided to surrender the mare after she flunked out of a professional training program.

When the horse arrived and was unloaded from the trailer, “we were just in shock,” Gunnar said. It was clear the animal wasn’t a mule or a mustang, he said.

“Anyone getting possible Przewalski vibes!?” the Bjorklunds posted. “A true wild, endangered species of equine‼️ How cool would that be!”

In response to seeing the Bjorklunds’ viral video, Huckabay’s daughter posted her own videos of Shrek two days later. One got over 11 million views.

After coming across Shrek’s video, it was easy for the Bjorklunds to settle on a name for their mystery horse - Fiona, the princess-heroine from the Shrek movies.

The rescuers were stunned that two possible Przewalski’s horses could have surfaced almost simultaneously. The Endangered Species Act allows private ownership of endangered animals, but only with a permit, and under strict stipulations. The law prohibits the possession of illegally obtained endangered animals or their transport across state lines without permits.

The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service declined to comment on whether officials are investigating the horses’ chain of custody.

Some livestock auctions have occasionally served as hubs for illicit trade in exotic animal species.

Because most Przewalski’s horses descend from only about a dozen surviving individuals, scientists closely manage breeding genetics for diversity. Compared to the feral mustang, Przewalski’s are more resilient, said Dolores Reed, a biologist who helps oversee a small herd of the endangered horses at the Smithsonian’s National Zoo and Conservation Biology Institute. Przewalski’s horses are built for the Mongolian steppe’s harsh climate, she said, adding, “they’re very tough,” and can be unpredictable.

There are about 100 Przewalski’s horses in U.S. zoos, Reed said.

Shrek and Fiona are adjusting to their new environments, their owners said. After keeping his distance from people and trotting in circles in his pen while stressed, Shrek has relaxed and moved to a larger field. He has bonded with two gentle mares and while he won’t accept treats from people’s hands, he loves when apples and carrots are left in his feed bucket, Huckabay said.

“He’s very piggy,” she said.

In Utah, Fiona has put on weight and made friends with a miniature mule and a quarter horse filly at the Bjorklunds’ sanctuary.

The rescuers wonder what would’ve happened if Shrek and Fiona hadn’t been saved. The endangered animals might’ve been sent to slaughter “and nobody would have known about it,” Gunnar said.

Huckabay and the Bjorklunds plan to care for the horses as long as needed, but said they’d prefer to see their rescued Przewalski’s move to a professional conservation program.

Shrek is happy on the ranch, but Huckabay said she’d rather see him with “a herd of his own.”

“That would be the best-case scenario,” she said.

[iamyoursonly]

Childhood Best Friend (16/07/2024)

turns out my bakugo obsession wasn’t over so i’m writing him to feed my delusions because I saw this one line on tumblr and I had to write a whole story about it; i wrote this at 2 AM so it’s not the most creative hehe but bear with me

1.5k words — unedited

The thought of having a childhood best friend that you can keep in contact with really drives me insane, not in a bad way though, because it’s the kind of friendship that I crave. I have no idea how much time both parties dedicate to each other to maintain a relationship for this long, and I might be jealous of some of my friends because they have this and mine isn’t as ideal as I hope it was.

“Katsu?” My five-year-old self say, “Would you marry me when we grow up?”

The crimson eyed boy looked at me, holding out that ring pop he’s been eating for a while now and basically finished, “If you’ll have me that is.”

According to his mom, I went around kindergarten holding his hand and calling him “my husband katsu” for a while, and he was always around to protect me when kids doubted what I said. He’d beat them up or threaten them with his explosions saying, “You’re all just jealous that you’re not her, but too bad she’s my wife now so piss off.”

I was always around him and he was always around me, we were literally stuck to the bone.

“Katsu, someone told me I was ugly is that true?” I cried in his arms for the first time when I was six, and he rubbed my head and let me cry it out.

“Whoever told you that must have no taste, you’re breathtaking.” He says.

“What does ‘breaktaking’ mean?” I say.

“Breathtaking. It means you’re so pretty you take someone’s breath away.” He smiles, “I’m also beating them up for putting this nonsense in your head. No one messes with my wife.”

“Don’t beat them up though, please?” I look at him, and his rubs my head and nod.

This all disappeared when I had to leave to move away because my parents found a better job. I held onto his hand and begged my parents to let me stay with him and his family, he also begged, claiming he doesn’t want to be apart from “his wife”.

“Don’t forget me, Katsu.” I start sobbing, “I really don’t want to leave.”

“Can’t you stay?” He asks, red staining his eyes because of the crying he has been doing.

“I can’t, they’re not letting me.” I hold his hand harder, “Promise we’ll meet again?”

“Let’s become heroes together. I’ll become number one and you’ll be alongside me.” He squeezes my hand back. “Let’s meet at UA.”

“Promise?” I ask.

“Promise.”

We pinky promised before my parents shoved me into the car and drove away.

“Hit harder, you’re not doing it right!” My coach screams at me. “Okay, take a break you’re not thinking.”

I sit on the ground, stripping off my boxing gear then throwing them to the ground, “Fuck.” How am I going to be good enough to catch up to him? He’s gifted, hardworking and talented. It’s not possible to be on the same level as him without training harder, and I’m not even hitting right…

“I’m done, let me do it again!” I say to my coach, who’s wiping the pads I’ve been hitting. She smiles and signals me to start. I throw I few punches at her, then a few kicks, and some more punches. “That’s the spirit, young lady!” She says as I throw more kicks at her.

“Good work today,” She pats my shoulder, “See you tomorrow.”

I smile at her before packing my bags and leaving, stretching a bit before I take a taxi home to revise for tomorrow morning’s tests. I take out the small notebook I keep in my bag and start memorizing some main points from the book, “Mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.” I whisper.

I manage to get a taxi, I get in and sit down and continue studying. After a while, I look out of the window, slowly rolling down the glass after getting the driver’s permission. Feeling the night air against my face, I start to feel home sick. It’s been ten years since I left Japan, and I’ve been doing everything he would just so I can get in UA. And I miss him so much.

“Congratulations! You’re accepted into UA high school, we’re looking forward to seeing you on our first day!“

I scream at this news before telling my parents and they were overjoyed also. They willingly bought me plane tickets back to Japan and even called Katsuki’s family to have them take care of me for the mean time, in which they agreed to. And all I could think about that night was how happy he would be when he sees me again.

He was not happy, at least I don’t think he is. He has this scowl over his face and he’s gotten so tall and buff since ten years ago.

“You’re that loser girl I hung out with? I literally have no fuckin’ memory of you since you’re so fuckin’ insignificant to me.”

Wow. He’s definitely changed so much.

“Katsu, I kept my promise, I got into UA and now I’m back.” I say.

“So? What do you want me to say? Congrats? Yeah no shit, everyone craves validation when it comes to me.” He says, “Congrats loser, for making the bare minimum to get in like it’s fuckin’ challenging.”

Okay he’s just rude now, where was that sweet old Katsuki I missed. So I just rolled my eyes at him and went to their guest room to settle down. In which Mitsuki welcomed me with a whole party that Katsuki was not happy about.

New school year, new me. I wear my UA uniform, ready for a new school year with more fun and joy every year. Until some weird guy stopped me and Katsuki on our way to school.

“Hey girlie, you look so fine you should be called mine. Wanna go out with me?” He winks, and I cringed at him. Katsuki full on glared at him, looking pissed.

“She doesn’t wanna fuckin’ go out with you, why would she downgrade herself for a fucker like you?” Katsuki grabbed my hand and started leaving.

He told him off for me. He cares.

“Why are you even helping that whore?” That weirdo asked Katsuki, and he glared daggers into him.

“No one can say that to her when I’m around, say that again and you’ll lose your dick.” Katsuki threatens him again and wraps his arms around my waist.

He turns to me, his face so close to mine before he says, “Let’s go.”

Since when was his face so masculine and defined. He definitely had a big glow up because how could one be so breathtaking?

“Katsu.” I say, “What was that for? Thought you hated me.”

“Still do, but only I can degrade you.” He answers.

“Possessive much?” I joke, but I could feel his grip on my waist tighten. So I just shut up and walk with him.

When we got home that day, Mitsuki made us fried chicken and some extra spicy mapo tofu (katsu’s favourite).

“Remember when the two of you got married when you were five? Katsuki gave you his ring pop after you asked him if he’d marry you and he said something like ‘if you’ll have me’? Oh goodness I remember it like it was yesterday.” She chuckled with her husband as Katsuki and I stared at each other awkwardly.

“Shut up you old hag.” Katsuki says, his ears red, “I’m going back to my room.”

Before he leaves the table, he drags me with him and we enter his room before he locks the door.

“So,” He starts, “What now?”

I look at him, “You dragged me in, you tell me.”

“It’s nothing I just needed a break from them.” He shrugged, “It’s not like I’m fuckin’ embarrassed of us or anything.”

There was a moment of loud silence.

“Katsu,” I break the awkwardness, “Can we like start again?”

“Like what, pretend that you never left me?” He says, his tone sounded like he’s hurt.

“I didn’t want to, and you know it.” I look him in the eye, and he keeps the eye contact.

“Missed you so fuckin’ much and now you’re here,” He puts his head on my shoulder, basically whispering into my ear, “I hate how you’re my weak spot and how I can’t properly get over you even though we were basically children.”

“Katsuki, listen.” I hold his face and he’s so close to me I could feel his breath on my face.

“Yeah?” He looks at me, features softening.

“Be my boyfriend, Katsuki.” I murmured softly, “For real this time. I swear the only person I’ve loved is you.”

He laughed out loud, “Thought we were married all along, wifey.”

I hug him tight and he speaks, “Don’t leave me again okay?”

“Promise.” I chuckled, “Also you need to get me another ring, I might have left the ring pop with my family.”

“You silly bitch. You’re lucky I love you.” He gently smacks me.

“And I love you too.” I smile.

…“And now, I pronounce the two of you husband and wife.”

Maybe this childhood best friend thing that I had wasn’t that bad either, seeing how we have two children together right now makes me smile at our memories together as a child. My breathtaking childhood best friend and the pro hero Dynamight that I could call my husband until the end of time.

[sexhaver]

can you tell us all the plugins / ad blockers you use

on desktop, uBlock Origin (NOT Adblock Plus! they sold out years ago! they literally take money from advertisers to make sure their ads get through their filters!) and SponsorBlock for Firefox. if you still see ads on youtube specifically check out this page. if it's green, then the problem is with your specific installation and you should check out this reddit megathread. if it's red, then tough luck, wait a few hours for uBlock's crack team of hackers to catch back up in their constant arms race with Youtube.

for Android, get ReVanced Manager from here and use that + an .apk download of the latest Youtube release (just google "youtube apk") to patch yourself together a version of the Youtube app that acts like you paid for Advanced even though you didn't, which means no ads. also, side tangent, that's where the name comes from: originally it was just "Youtube Vanced" because it was "Advanced" without the "ad"s. then the Vanced team got slapped with a C&D for being dumbasses and minting NFTs of the Vanced logo, which was literally just the Youtube logo, so ReVanced rose from the ashes to continue its legacy. oh also there are a shitload of boxes you can check off during the patching process and one of them just integrates Sponsorblock for you, so that's nice.

i should also mention here, for no reason in particular, that the Vanced Manager app lets you patch a number of other apps in the same way, removing ads and adding "premium" features without you having to pay. one of these apps may or may not be Tumblr itself.

as long as you're fucking with your Android, download xManager and use it to get ad-free Spotify without paying for it. iirc the app auto-downloads the apk for you but it's been months since i last fucked with it so i might be misremembering.

honorary mention goes to NewPipe for being a way easier to install alternative to all of the above if you don't care about logging in. it's an alternate frontend for youtube that lets you watch it ad-free right out of the box. the main drawbacks are that the UI is a little ugly (especially compared to the official/ReVanced version), you can't use Sponsorblock, and it doesn't sync with your Google account (this could be a plus for you if you're big into privacy but personally i like having my likes and watch history synced across desktop and mobile). although now that i just did some research to make sure i wasn't talking out my ass, it looks like the original dev is working on a forked version of the app named Tubular that does have Sponsorblock and is apparently trying to get google account stuff working, so that's cool. oh and it can also browse/play Soundcloud ad-free, if you still use Soundcloud in 2024

[imaginesbymonika]

From the dining table | Prologue

Pairing: Damon Albarn × Gallagher! Reader

Plot: Everyone's favorite topic during the '90s and 'OOs; Y/N Gallagher. The mysterious and beautiful younger sister of the two loud brothers rarely spoke during interviews but played the guitar like no one else. And even though she never said a word about her dating-life, the list of her rumored boyfriends kept growing longer with each passing year. Yet, there was one name in particular that just kept on popping up...

read what came before this

(2024)

Damon stares at the bright screen. He isn’t looking at it. He is staring. Like a maniac, assumably. He hasn’t blinked in what feels like hours. Ever since he put that fucking song on. Now he is staring at the blue lyrics that Spotify is providing him and he cannot for the life of him stop.

He has seen the tweets. That’s how he found out about the song in the first place. Her name was trending… right above his own. To say that his heart dropped at that sight would be an understatement.

��Oh my god her voice is so good” and “Y/N sounds so unbelievably good” Of course it fucking is- of course she is. Damon used to tell her that over and over again back then. Yet this is the one time she decides to use it? Fucks sake. For some reason, it doesn’t seem fair to him but he couldn’t tell why.

He scratches his neck and sits down on his leather couch. This is massive, in so many ways and he has no one to talk to about this; no one except… well her. But he couldn’t just call her up, right? What would he even tell her? There wasn’t a world in which he could ever speak casually to her ever again. Damon runs a shaking hand down his face and shuts his eyes, they burn for a second before they fill with tears. Feels worse than the initial dryness.

Damon’s eyes open and shift down onto the red carpet. Since when did he have that ugly stain next to the coffee table? Y/N hasn’t called him after ‘13’ came out so why should he call her now after one single song? Can he get that stain out or is it too powerfully rubbed into the material? He has not spoken to her in almost two decades.

“Hey Siri, tell me: Where’s the latest cleaning store?”, he asks, his eyes still fixated on the floor. A sigh leaves his lips, while he listens to the animatronic voice. He hasn’t spoken to her in decades. A few minutes pass, and he stares in silence… at this massive brown stain that he somehow never noticed before.

Another sigh leaves his lips and he clears his somewhat dry throat:” Hey Siri? Call- call Y/N Gallagher.”

“We're sorry; you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording in error, please check the number and try your call again."

He pauses.

“Call Noel Gallagher.”

[twobeesornottwobees]

I have many thoughts on Challengers (2024) and I need to get them out so here we go

First, the tennis.

This movie understands tennis better than any film, tv, book, etc. I have ever seen. You know exactly how the relationship between the three main characters is going to play out just based on how they play. The cardinal rule of tennis is you want to get to the net as quickly as possible. Playing from the baseline (the line that you serve at) is all well and good and it's a vital part of the game but playing at the net is where the action is. The quicker you get to the net, the more likely you are to win.

From the first moment we see Art and Patrick, Art is at the net and Patrick is at the baseline. Then we see Patrick serve. In the language of tennis, Patrick's serve is a crime against beauty. It might work well enough for him but it is ugly. Those two facts put together mean that when Tashi tells Patrick he isn't a tennis player, she knows what she's talking about. Art is not as talented as Patrick and neither of them are as talented as Tashi but Art gets to the fucking net. He understands what Tashi means when she says that tennis is a relationship.

Second, the framing of the narrative as a tennis match.

Patrick wins a set, Art wins a set, we're left looking at the tie breaker. Brilliant. Camera shots from far away steadily get closer and closer, just like if you were in a rally and you were moving toward the net. Tashi, in particular, always moves closer to the person she's talking to and she always wins the point. She goes towards the net.

Third, Tashi as a character.

I love her, your honor. She is in love with the game of tennis. She doesn't give a shit about anyone or anything else. When she says she would stab a child to have the recovery that Art did, she means it. Moreover, we know that the child in question could be her own daughter and she would still mean it. From the first night in the boys' hotel room, she doesn't care which of them gets her number, she just wants to see good tennis. She is unlikable and yet Art is right. Who wouldn't love her?

Fourth, Art and Patrick.

One thing about tennis: your teammates are also your competitors. They are the yardstick by which you measure yourself, the only people capable of making you better, the people that you most need to beat. The relationship between the two of them, even from the beginning, perfectly reflects this.

I would actually argue that not a single one of the three of them is a good person. But the narrative is completely uninterested in whether or not their moral people. All it cares about is if they're good tennis players.

Fifth, the background details.

Art is sponsored by Wilson, his rackets have their logo repainted on (normally, you get rackets restrung and don't get the logos painted back on, only the players that are sponsored get that done.) Tashi was sponsored by Wilson (and Adidas but only for her clothes). Art only switches over from Dunlop to Wilson after they get married. Patrick's racket is restrung, but no logo, he's not sponsored. But, his poverty is at least a little bit performative because you don't smash up a $300 racket unless you have money to spare.

The ad in the background of the parking lot. It still has both Tashi and Art on it while Tashi and Patrick are having sex but by the time the final match starts, Art's half of the picture has torn away.

Patrick's changed serving style. Only when communication is happening directly between him and Art, that Tashi has no way of understanding, do they start functioning well on a court together. Ironically, when Tashi is removed from the relationship she finally gets to see some good tennis.

Anyways, I love this movie.

[billskeis]

Can you do 2023-2024 bill Kaulitz with thirteen year old daughter reader with ADHD headcannons and has similar personality to Rory keaner from Mbav and Richie Tozier from IT 2017 and she's very very sassy and hyper and can roast people + humbles people like how north west does to Kim K + how the uncles (Tom,Georg and Gustav) would react to her

ᡣ𐭩 bill w teen daughter p2

headcannons down below!

bill might have to keep a leash on you at all times when the two of you are going out because you can’t ever seem to stay in one place at a time

“y/n, what do you think of— Y/N!?”

found you looking at fucking trinkets. more importantly, MARBLES.

you always keep your dad in check, but he will sass you right back

“baby what do you think of the blonde?” “i think you look ugly.” “well you look like your OTHER father/mother, HIDEOUS.” “hey, you choose them, not me” “…”

literally has to bribe you to do anything for him, even if it involves your own benefit.

“y/n, can you get me my wallet i’m ordering take-out” “nuh-uh” “y/n, my wallet.” “make me.” “honey, i’m literally feeding you. “food!?”

you constantly make fun of bill, but when push comes to shove you will stand up for him if necessary.

you and uncle georg are quite literally neck and neck with each other.

“y/n, you stink, go take a shower,” “i bet your mom doesn’t think so uncle georg!!!”

with uncle tom, it’s even worse.

“y/n, can you tell uncle tom which one will look better, the blue blouse or the black blazer?” “either one will make you look fucking hideous” “y/n!! language!!” “sorry dad..”

you made tom cry btw

you and uncle gustav are chill. tom and georg don’t understand, bill doesn’t either. but you and gustav have this connection.

“what’s up y/n!” “hi uncle gustav” “i don’t know how he’s doing that..” tom scoffs, “it’s definitely voodoo magic, has to be,” georg ponders what a cornball

bill cannot put you to bed, so he just puts up with it.

let it be pillow fights, movie marathons, and food feasting, you name it.

you’re pretty open with bill when it comes to the concepts of relationships. although you may be young, he doesn’t stop you from experience life as it is.

when you spot someone of interest, it is your immediate and number one goal to make them yours.

“dad, i can’t go inside.. it’s filled with weir—” target spotted. “i want that one.” “but baby you don’t even know their na—” “i don’t give a SHIT dad i want that one.”

he got distracted for a second and lost you, again.

[muppetjohntavares]

To the Best of our Media Availabilities (a Maple Leafs media availability roundup)

OCTOBER 2024 - By the numbers, by the hats

By the numbers:

122 interviews in total (excluding Craig Berube and potentially mislabeled players who didn't show up in the YouTube video chapters)

Auston leads the scoreboard with 12 interviews, followed close behind by JT and Stolarz. Jani and Calle both only got one interview, while Liljegren (rip), Hildeby, Timmins and Benoit all share a two interview spot. Notable newcomers Stolarz, Patches, Lorentz, and OEL are all quite popular with 11, 9, 7 and 5 interviews in total. Tanev only got interviewed three times.

By the hats:

Auston, like most of his teammates has been wearing his locker room cap (square logo) religiously: 7 out of 12 interviews have him wearing this cap, while 4 feature the white one. There's one case of a non-leafs cap making an appearance, but that one is worn backwards.

Players were hatless more often than they had their heads covered - Benny, Timmins, Jani, Hildebeast, Mo, Patches and Reavo did not wear any caps/beanies/other types of head coverings this month!

(I also wouldn't cover up my flow if it looked as good as Patches' does)

Eight players did not show us their locks under any circumstances: Domi, Calle, Caber, Knies, Auston, Bobby, Tanev and OEL all stayed under wraps, with the current square logo locker room cap being a popular choice.

Most importantly for me, October featured a beautiful occurence: not one, not two, but three instances of JT without his fuckass caps on. Thanks to his hatty, we even had two hatless media availabilities back to back!

Yes, I did say caps, you heard me right - I'm pretty sure he has multiples of that sweaty, sweaty cap (the colors on these videos are very weird so I'm assuming it's the same one twice).

As I've said, most players wearing caps are wearing the standard issue black square locker room cap. Mitchy loves wearing a backwards basecap, while Domi wears a taller trucker hat with the leaf on the front, as well as one with a round logo.

There isn't much variety happening here compared to the preseason media availabilities - maybe that'll change again soon. Honorary mention: Willy's incredibly ugly basecap. What is that, my guy?

And, finally: the leafs aren't as backwards a team as some people may claim them to be!

35 interviews were with players that had their caps on backwards and 33 with their caps facing to the front. That's gotta count for something right?

Players seem to have a clear preference, though: when wearing caps, Domi, Calle, Caber and JT wear them facing to the front. The opposite is the case for Mitchy, Knies, Joey and Bobby, whose caps are always facing backwards.

That's all for this post - next installment will be tarps off (or rather one, if you're not Willy or Reavo)

[lotuseye]

‘  ugly  angels  spoke  to  me.  the  blame,  i  heard  them  say,  was  mine.  ’

a  writing  blog,  adorned  by  anaïs,  aged  23.  currently  writing  for  jujutsu  kaisen,  chainsaw  man,  and  tokyo  revengers.  requests  are  welcome,  however  this  is  mainly  a  blog  where  i  write  out  the  ideas  that  come  to  me,  so  please  keep  that  in  mind!  do  not  hesitate  to  approach  and  say  hi  to  me,  i  swear  i  am  friendly. likes and reblogs are always welcome! please do not steal, copy, translate, or repost my work. you can find me at ao3 with the same username. 18 & above only. i honestly cannot go through the insane work of trying to check everyone who interacts with my posts, so i am assuming you have the decency to stay out of mdni content. i do not have the time to monitor who is doing what on the internet, please do not take advantage of this. beyond this, i love making friends so much! come be friends with me. i just ask that pls keep things appropriate as beyond the fact that i have a partner, i simply am not looking for anything more than writing and vibing here <3 if you've read until here i adore you already, welcome to my tiny hub where i write angst and smut like i'm getting paid for it lmao.

headcanons.

favorite social media app. jjk characters and their favorite social media app.

one shots

happy birthday, shoko. shoko receives an unexpected birthday present at her 27th birthday. [ shoko ieiri, angst. ]

better call higuruma! he left her his number for emergencies. getting arrested was an emergency, right? [ hiromi higuruma, smut, angst, fluff. ]

possibility. satoru doesn’t want to hate the floating, but he does not want the wind to be the only thing that touches him, either. [ sashisu, smut, angst, fluff. ]

series.

trash magic. [ satoru gojo and his special grade sorcerer ex-wife are assigned to a mission together. ]

honey, will you serve me lemonade? part i. angst, fluff.

yes, satoru, i will - it's the day of the parade. part ii. angst, fluff.

and you look even more handsome... part iii. angst. suggestive.

than you did the day that i left you. part iv. smut. [ in progress.]

kinktober 2024. [ an october collection. ]

b.a.s. satoru gojo.

i didn't change my number. satoru gojo & suguru geto.

his hands. kento nanami.

affection. choso kamo.

heartbeat. ryomen sukuna.

serial killer. toji fushiguro.

drive. suguru geto.

[strontiumsun]

The big video game flop, AKA the story of Concord

If you like hearing about train wrecks, then do I have a story (and videos) for you!

Sony recently published a game that they thought would be a real hit. They announced the game, titled Concord, earlier this year in their State of Play (aka a Nintendo Direct but for PS5) with an expensive-looking cinematic trailer that had people going "...Huh?"

tl;dw, it's a live service (a risky model) hero shooter (a mostly dead genre) with a retro-future aesthetic (an ugly one) and quips straight out of a bad ripoff of the Guardians of the Galaxy.

Immediately, gamers clocked this as a corporation wasting their time. Nobody wanted to play this game, or if they did, it's because they wanted to make videos on why nobody wanted to play this game.

(It's important to note this game would launch at $40. When Overwatch 2, its most direct competitor, is FREE.)

A few months later, the game had an open beta, where the game was available to be played ahead of release - and FOR FREE! - to people with PS5 accounts.

And barely anyone played it.

Despite the incredibly tepid player numbers, Sony went ahead and released the game. Maybe they were hoping that it would catch on once it was officially released?

...Yeah, like that was going to happen.

After not even breaking into the thousands of concurrent players at any time on Steam, and with abysmal sales, Sony saw the writing on the wall. Today they officially announced that the game would be totally refunded and taken offline by the end of the week. I smell a tax write-off coming from a mile away.

On the one hand, I do feel a bit bad for the developers. They spent 8 years working on a game that, by all accounts, was competently made. No obvious bugs, solid feel, a few interesting character kits. But they missed the mark in every other way, not least the timing. Hero shooters as a genre are in a weird place right now, and when your main competitor is free (and, for its glaring flaws, has a hell of a better-designed roster of characters), you're basically asking to fail.

On the other hand, I don't feel bad for Sony at all. I laugh at Sony. HA HA HA! You really thought people would buy this? In 2024? Big corporations can make mistakes any day of the week; I'll always enjoy hearing about them.

[amaltheas-garden]

Is it a hot take to say I liked most of the costumes in Rings of Power? I haven't read much Tolkein so I have no idea what his aesthetic vision for middle earth was but from a PURELY design standpoint I didn't think it was that bad?? If anything, the handful of truly awful costumes got hyper focused on + certain styling choices really brought down some otherwise beautiful designs. IMO the cinematography and set design had wayyy more to do with the costumes looking ugly on screen than the designs themselves. A lot of the sets just looked very fake, so when you already are aware the characters are walking around in an indoor plastic forest with cgi leaves and sunlight added in post, the costumes probably won't look too good either (a lot of commentators speculated polyester was used but I believe the designer came out and said they used real silk for almost everything). Also, high rez cameras that capture EVERY LITTLE DETAIL are a double-edged sword. In a scene of the Numenorians on the boat I could literally see the sunlight reflecting off a guy's armhair the resolution is insane!!! So why would that be a problem for things looking realistic? The best way I can explain is with an art analogy. For most of the history of painting, artists relied on observation, so any detail they captured in their paintings would have been something the unaided human eye could see, and for details they knew were there but couldn't quite make out (think, the leaves on a far-off tree in the background), they would only imply the detail. However, with the invention of increasingly good cameras, a movement known as hyper realism started cropping up, in which artists work from photographic reference, capturing every detail that really only a camera could pick up, giving their work a very unique (and at times unsettling or artificial) quality. Classical art academies in the present day actually forbid students to work from photographs because they believe it trains your eyes to see in a different way compared to observation, and will outright reject any portfolio submissions with work they suspect as being done from photos (which they can usually tell pretty easily, again highlighting the difference in how cameras and our eyes pick up detail). Returning to RoP, I would argue a similar dissonance is at play, as the show has an over-produced, glossy feel to it, which renders the costumes feeling a bit weightless, without texture or grit despite every detail of them being visible. I am not an expert in film making, so I can't speak on what techniques work better when capturing fabric, but I would point to examples like Dune (2021 & 2024), all of GoT and HotD season 2 (though the grey lighting does them no favors), Mirror Mirror (2012), Wolf Hall, and even Shadow and Bone (a show with a much smaller budget) for films and series that had to translate very over the top and fantasy like designs to screen while maintaining a grounded feeling.

In short, I definitely have problems with a number of costumes (which I'll probably discuss in another post), but I think there were other issues that contributed to the costumes tacky and artificial look than the designs themselves.

[bllkrarepairweek]

Our #BLLKRPW 2024 Round Up is here!

A million thanks to everyone who participated this year, our second year of BLLK Rare Pair Week! 🫶 This year was even bigger than our first, both in number of days and in terms of submissions! In addition to some familiar faces from last year, we also got a ton of new folks joining us and together, you all created 59 works and 5 new rarepair tags on AO3!!! 🥳

Our poly ships also got some love this year which was great to see! ❤️

With more rarepairs than ever, we've put together a little survey just to get a sense of what's working for everyone in terms of prompts, event structure and ofc to gauge general availability for next year's event! The survey will be open for a week so please fill out as soon as you can!

Additionally, if you want to keep up with events in the BLLK fandom (some really great ones coming up!) go follow our Event Hub @bllkeventshub (you can also follow us on twt)

Now onto the round-up!!! (Added under 'read more' for length - please let us know if any links are broken/wrong)**

**Please note that many authors on this list have their fics locked to registered users so this will affect how the collection looks to anyone not logged in. If anyone wants to make an AO3 acct and needs an invitation, please feel free to reach out to us, mods have a number of invitations! Now go and give our rarepair creators all the love! 🥰

Day 1 (Roommates/Cooking + Baking/"You talk in your sleep.")

Art: 'bbq date' by @sid3buns - Barou/Isagi [twt] [tumblr}

Fic: 'the same (but kinda different)' by @kae-karo - Nanase/Rin

Fic: 'fortnight' by @tsukkinoneko - Kaiser/Rin

Fic: 'when in Rome' by Not_who_u_think - Otoya/Karasu

Fic: 'Used to it' by yuzuwakano - Kiyora/Niko

Fic: 'i think i saw you in my sleep' by luxxxio - Shidou/Chigiri

Fic: 'a taste of sweetness' by xynzel - Hiori/Nanase/Isagi

Fic: 'Random Roommates and Coffee' by RyleeWyatt - Barou/Chigiri

Fic: 'i'm in the mood to pay attention to you' by HiShark - Kaiser/Raichi

Fic: 'Bad Taste' by tangerinelighter - Karasu/Shidou

Fic: 'curry hearts' by @takeunknownroadnow - Rin/Isagi/Bachira

Art: 'baking' by mymeadowismade - Raichi/Isagi [twt]

Day 2 (Merfolk + Pirates/Beach Episode/"Seeing you in a wet T-shirt is its own reward.")

Fic: 'you slipped away into my prominence' by tsukkinoneko - Kaiser/Rin

Fic: 'the most important part of boat ownership' by kae_karo - Karasu/Shidou

Fic: 'Shark Teeth' by yuzuwakano - Kiyora/Kurona

Art: 'pirates&mermaids' by sid3buns - Barou/Isagi [twt] [tumblr}

Art: 'wet t-shirt' by useless_donut - Raichi/Aiku [twt]

Fic: 'Crimson' by RyleeWyatt - Barou/Chigiri

Fic: 'let us randezvous' by xynzel - Hiori/Kurona

Art: 'beach day for the boys' by @getosugurusbangs - Hiori/Reo [tumblr}

Day 3 (Academia/Meet Cute + Meet Ugly/"How much will it take for you to kiss me?")

Fic: 'Wicked Game' by tsukkinoneko - Kaiser/Rin

Fic: 'come the white wine, bitter sunlight' by tsukkinoneko - Kaiser/Reo

Art: 'academia' by sid3buns - Barou/Isagi [twt] [tumblr}

Fic: 'kids say the darnedest things' by kae_karo - Bachira/Kunigami

Fic: 'November' by RyleeWyatt - Barou/Chigiri

Art: 'Rinness Attack' by @nieznajomy-na-bagnie [tumblr} - Rin/Ness

Fic: 'tongues tongues tongues' by tangerinedarker - Karasu/Kiyora

Day 4 (Cowboys + Western/Secret Identity/"There are easier ways of getting my attention.")

Fic: 'sterling reputation for gold' by kae_karo - Shidou/Reo

Fic: 'Lazy Night' by tsukkinoneko - Kaiser/Rin

Fic: 'endless sky to dive into' by bluemoonjupiter - Chigiri/Karasu

Art: 'Cowboys' by sid3buns - Barou/Isagi [twt] [tumblr}

Fic: 'Cats and Missing Persons' by RyleeWyatt - Barou/Chigiri

Fic: 'The Masked Bandit of Blue Loch' by tangerinedarker - Kunigami/Chigiri/Reo

Fic: 'i wasn't watching (and neither were you)' by starsquared - Kiyora/Himizu

Day 5 (Bodyguard/Reunions/"For you, anything.")

Fic: 'Let the Games Begin' by smallweirdo - Bachira/Ness

Fic: 'what were YOU doing at the underground fight club?' by kae-karo - Aiku/Barou

Fic: 'from a star on hallowed ground' by tsukkinoneko - Kaiser/Rin

Art: 'Bodyguard' by sid3buns - Barou/Isagi [twt] [tumblr}

Day 6 (E-Sports + Streamers/Social Media Interactions/"You weren't supposed to see that.")

Fic: 'Bleed the Past' by @blobbyfics - Barou/Kunigami

Art: 'you weren't supposed to see that' by MissSleepless12 (collab w kae-karo)- Barou/Chigiri [twt] [tumblr}

Fic: 'How to Ship Hazardous Materials' by kae-karo (collab w MissSleepless12) - Barou/Chigiri

Fic: 'an offline event gone right' by tsukkinoneko - Hiori/Shidou

Fic: 'Hanging by a Thread' by sid3buns - Barou/Isagi

Fic: 'rosy maple' by strawberrylemonade1225 - Shidou/Bachira

Day 7 (Pacific Rim + Drifting/Didn't Know They Were Dating/"I don't want to do this without you.")

Art: 'didn't know they were dating' by MissSleepless12 (collab w kae-karo) - Karasu/Kaiser [twt] [tumblr}

Fic: 'in the interim' by kae-karo (collab w MissSleepless12) - Karasu/Kaiser

Fic: 'how hard I tried to breathe through the trees of loneliness' by tsukkinoneko - Chigiri/Rin

Day 8 (Free Day + Past Prompts)

Fic: 'Well At Least He's Easy (to break up with)' by useless_donut - Aiku/Raichi

Art: 'chp 2 sneak peek' (NSFW) by useless_donut - Aiku/Raichi [twt]

Fic: 'Besame, estoy abburido' (Spanish) // 'Kiss me, I'm bored' (English) by BilingualShipper - Otoya/Himizu

Fic: 'getting tipsy' by aikusagist - Aiku/Isagi

Fic: 'the first who ever did' by aikusagist - Aiku/Isagi

Fic: 'paging nurse yoichi' by Not_who_u_think - Aiku/Isagi

Fic: 'i can't help it, your taste so seductive' by tsukkinoneko - Kaiser/Rin

Fic: 'Card-Carrying Member of the "Fuck Isagi Yoichi" Club' by kae-karo - Kaiser/Kira

Fic: 'Three is a Charm' by MissSleepless12 - Rin/Isagi/Bachira

Fic: 'pull me closer (and kiss me harder)' by takeunknownroadnow - Barou/Nagi

Fic: 'fashion-forward' by bluemoonjupiter - Barou/Chigiri

[andtheyreonfire]

take me home (what a wonderful way to go)

ao3

WC: 3,288

AN: something of a sequel to all to make you mine. For G/t July 2024, Day 9: Warmth.

~

Ren is cold.

It’s a familiar feeling, as it would be for a borrower. He’s four inches tall. His body doesn’t particularly like keeping heat. Most of the time he deals with layers and layers of scrap fabric, insulating every corner he might walk in, or, when none of that works, grappling into a heating vent so his face doesn’t turn blue and ugly.

He’s a step ahead of other borrowers, too, in that he was very purposefully and by no means accidentally discovered by a few humans. By—ten-ish humans. Whom, whoever, are rightfully enamored with him and give him everything a four inch tall person could ever desire, like warm food and their credit card numbers.

He is currently away from nine of his humans. He would currently kill for a bowl of Sojiro’s curry. He would even beg for a single noodle of Yusuke’s, before he traps him for stealing and forces him to model for several hours as—not even an act retribution, just forgetfulness.

His teeth are chattering. He cannot stop shivering. He feels—lightheaded? His brain’s all fuzzy around the corners. His legs are starting to feel numb. This is fine. Everything’s fine!

Because he’s near his tenth human. Tenth, for a variety of reasons. Like his probable homicide record and his utter disregard for borrower safety and the butterflies Ren feels whenever he so much as looks at him—

The tenth probably isn’t even home. Even disregarding his schedule, he’s always flighty. Never likes to stick in one place. Ren understands entirely, but his tenth isn’t four inches tall and at risk of freezing. He’s just paranoid.

“It’s not paranoia if there are genuinely people out to get me,” Goro's voice echoes through his mind. This was said, as most things are between them, conversationally, while Goro was stalking him throughout his apartment. How was Ren supposed to know what a “bus pass” was, and that it was unusable after he cut and used it as a coffee table?

Whatever. His tenth human, Goro Akechi, was his last shot. Before he’s forced to make the 5-story trek to Ann's apartment. Which is doable. Totally, doable, even more so that he pisses Goro off just enough that he feels his body heat, rather than Goro killing Ren himself—

Ren stumbles, nearly eating shit on the cold, metal vent he’s traversing. He took the fastest route, expecting warm air to envelop him the second he entered. But apparently, Goro's ideal temperature is only a little colder than his heart, and there is nothing blowing through his vents on a snowy, winter night.

His vision’s starting to fuzz—that’s normal, right? God, he can’t remember the last time he ate. He’ll take Goro's patronizing bread crumbs, even. It’s winter. He’s been busy. Maybe he’s a little unprepared, running on an empty stomach and with hardly enough layers to trek through this vent. Every step seems to drain Ren’s heat even further, every breath sends icy air spreading throughout his body.

Everything’s fine, because look, Ren’s here. He shoots his grappling hook at the lip of the vent—and it only bangs into the flat metal wall. He retracts it, hits the old bundle of gears and twine for good measure, and refires. Within seconds, he’s dragging himself out of Goro's vent.

God—was his floor always this cold? It’s exponentially worse out here, the chill of the open air going straight to Ren’s heart. His legs feel stiff. The expanse of Goro's kitchen is so, so massive.

He blinks once, twice. Hey, it’s okay, he’s almost there. He can hear Goro's fake, cheery voice echoing from across the room, a high-pitched hum as he says, “Yes, of course, Saito-san. I already have a portable heater set up. I'm sure you’ll get the heating system up in just a few minutes, you always work magic, haha.”

Ren trudges forward. He can only crane his neck up for a few seconds, before the glare of Goro's lights forces his head down. He’d be surprised if he noticed him. He’s wearing his sneaky thieving clothes, a thin, pitch-black coat that clashes perfectly against the cream white of Goro's tiles. Total stealth.

Goro offers a few more pleasantries and a goodbye, before his footsteps shake the earth. Distantly, Ren can hear him preparing hot water. Distantly, Ren wonders if he should dunk himself into it. It sounds nice, cozy. He continues forward. He probably remembers how to scale Goro's counter, right? He wonders if he can get a ride, or if Goro would just kick him aside like a football.

There’s really nothing stopping him from climbing right up. The counter’s right here, Goro just a few feet away. So what, if he’s so cold that he’s stopped shivering? He shouldn’t be fumbling with his grappling hook, forgetting how to brace himself before he starts soaring. He’s so close.

His grappling hook catches the very edge of the counter.

He’s got this. In three, two, one—

Ren compresses the trigger.

The ground falls beneath him, winking out into a distant view. Normally he’d chose a stronger anchor, but—He’s fine. He nearly hits his head on the underside of Goro’s counter, but he’s fine.

He blinks, hanging off the edge of his hook with one arm. How does he normally get up, again? Why is his head so fuzzy? Why is his grip swaying more than usual?

His legs dangle. He needs to do something. Why is he just—

The grappling hook lurches, slips, almost falls completely off the counter. Ren lurches with it, legs kicking and arms flailing as he tries to find any purchase, any at all—

His hand meets the hard surface of the counter. Muscle memory kicks in, and he swings his legs up, using the last of his strength to climb up. He even manages to throw his grappling hook up instead of letting it shatter to a billion pieces on the floor. Nice.

He’s on solid ground, so why are his limbs still shaking? They’re stiff, sure, but weak. He can’t be weak. He has a strong, mighty bloodline. Impeccable survival instincts. Charm and grace and unmatched humility. But—just sitting here feels like a good idea. Something in him is slipping. Really, he doesn’t even know why he came all the way up here—

A massive shadow falls over him, enveloping him like a wave swallows a seashell. He can’t help a shiver, both from the dip in temperature, and for the familiar, hair-raising electricity that shoots down his spine.

In his peripheral, a hand larger than his bed clutches the counter. Before him, a titanic torso stretches like the sunrise. He cranes his neck up, up, up, ignoring the jabbing pain behind his eyes, to stare into the looming face of Goro Akechi.

Goro doesn’t smile, but something of his expression still reminds Ren of a shark, a snake, the cat who got the cream. His voice booms, “Is there a specific reason you’re tracking footprints on my counter? Or do you just favor trouncing into places a bug like you shouldn’t be in?”

Well, at least Goro's actually at his apartment, instead of working the graveyard shift at his mysterious second job he answers no questions about. He probably just works at Big Bang Burger and is embarrassed. Anyways, Ren stands up, almost loses his balance, and pointedly crosses his arms instead of expending the energy to flail them. At least he’s not shivering. “I came here for ba—a v—very specific reason.”

“Oh?” Goro leans closer, his hands coming up to block Ren’s escape point. His breath washes over Ren, and its warmth only makes the cold air even more jarring. He can almost feel Goro’s body heat, if slightly blocked by a sweater and those dorky gloves he always wears. He just needs him a little closer. “And what is that?”

Ren’s body feels so, so light—his vision isn’t supposed to be this fuzzy, right? His tongue can hardly move. He either needs to piss Goro off until his warm hand pins down Ren’s body, or he decides to drop him in his toasty pocket to contain him. Either sounds heavenly. Ren says, confident as stone, “The reason is—“

Ren passes out.

***

He awakes to perfect, blissful warmth.

Hot air envelops him, filling his lungs and curling his toes. A warm, solid weight rests across his entire body. Not as warm as the blissful heat buffeting him, but enough to keep it trapped, the weird, leathery fabric of his blanket be damned.

And, oh, this is what it’s all about. This is the heaven mice go to after they perish in a glue trap, the afterlife hamsters enter after being eaten by a human child. The Valhalla borrowers ascend to after dying by honorable means, like dropping dead on his favorite human’s counter. He should’ve frozen to death ages ago. Ren snuggles back into this new, weighted blanket, letting this heat seep into his still-cold bones. Absolutely perfect—

A thundering bang echoes somewhere behind him, followed by a familiar, murderous growl, “Dropping dead on my fucking counter, who does he think he is—“

Ren’s eyes snap open.

He lies on a massive, plush surface. Before him, looming too high for Ren to take in all of it, is what Ren assumes is a human heater. It’s directed at his tiny form, Ren resting on a couch cushion like a pearl in an oyster.

Ren’s not dead.

He knows this when a pair of dark pants fill half of vision, and Ren can’t resist craning his head up, up, up, to see Goro Akechi looming over him like God’s shittiest angel.

He’s carrying something. A small something. A small something that he sets down next to Ren, slower than he thought humans were capable of. It’s a tall bottle cap. A warm, savory-smelling liquid sloshing as Goro sets it down, fingernails glinting in the light—

”You leave traces of yourself, everywhere.” Goro'd said to Ren, once the borrower was in his clutches, dangled over Goro's head by a single leg. “Someone will always find you, whether or not you think they’re searching. Whether or not you think they’re capable of exploiting what they uncover.”

Goro's not wearing gloves.

Surely Ren’s seeing things. He always wears gloves. Whether he’s dangerously engrossed in his detective hero fantasy, is genuinely that paranoid, or a secret third thing, Ren doesn’t know. What he does know is that Goro's left hand is bared. And that the missing glove is—

Ren shifts, pushes his hands against the heavy fabric blanketing him. He sits up the best he can, seeing enough to know his legs disappear into a familiar, wide shape. To know that Goro's missing glove is wrapped around Ren like a giant quilt.

It kind of smells like him, faint, cheap coffee and the hand lotion Ren’s smelled on his arms. It’s nice. It’s warm. It’s safe—

Goro's hand is retreating, him too engrossed in his task to even notice Ren sitting up. So, Ren does what he does best: channel Morgana’s instincts long enough to lunge over, and knock the cap of soup right onto Goro's couch.

Goro's hand freezes. Ren can see it shake. He can’t stop his heart from pounding as he watches tendons wider than his fingers flex, the curl of knuckles larger than his knees. It’s boring, under his glove: well-trimmed, zero dirt, paler than most of his body. Ren wonders if it’s just as warm. He’ll probably find out; it looks five seconds away from wrapping around his body and squeezing.

Before Goro can actually kill him, Ren says, “Now, this is a sight I wouldn’t mind waking up to every m—“ He clears his throat. Tries again, “Hey, uh. What happened?”

Goro's eyebrow twitches. Calmly, carefully, he rights the fallen cap, collecting the broth with his fingers and shaking it off somewhere behind his legs. Calmly, carefully, he lowers himself to a kneel, bracketing his arms around Ren. His heart pounds. “You tell me—or are you doing to kneel over again before you can finish the sentence?”

Ren snorts. He moves to speak, but Goro beats him to it, glaring at the stain Ren left on his couch. “I got that for you, you know. Fluids and preserving body heat are important when dealing with hypothermia. I expected you’d be stupid enough to put yourself into that state, but I didn’t expect you’d be so stupid as to fight me on recovery, especially considering how severe your case is—“

The hair on the back of Ren’s neck prickles. “I'm fine, not severe at all. I just needed a quick nap—“

“Oh, really?” Goro shifts back, slamming his bare hand right next to Ren. He can’t quite suppress a flinch. “Your body weight is unusually low, which is impressive, considering you already weigh less than a fucking leaf. Your eyes are sunken in. I can feel your ribcage—and you’re freezing to the touch.” Ren flinches, again, and tries to speak, as if Goro's current volume isn’t hurting his ears. “When was the last time you ate? Drank? Slept? I haven’t been able to check if you have frostbite or a genuine cold—“

Ren’s instincts flare. He scrambles for a defense. He’s too small, too exposed, too warm. He manages, voice high and sharp, “And you give a shit?”

Surprisingly, it works. Goro backs off, bare hand still lingering near Ren’s form. He seems to reassess itself, before his expression closes off into something utterly blank. “I wasn’t aware you were capable of fending for yourself.”

And, see, the thing is, Ren’s perfectly capable of doing so. Ren cannot, right now, considering his head is pounding and his legs are cramping and his hook’s on Goro's counter. He hates this. He hates this. He hates this feeling of helplessness, of having to rely on another person to maintain his wellbeing. He hates being vulnerable.

But more importantly, he hates this distance with Goro. This touch-and-go game, how he thought he was handing Goro a blatant victory with this but instead he’s—What? Making soup for him and giving him blankets?

And he hates the slight hurt in Goro's eyes, a sight clear as day from Ren’s tiny angle. He hates how he can’t have Goro concretely, and he hates how Goro is leaning, moving, inching away—

“Wait!” Ren blurts. Without thinking, he latches onto Goro's thumb, digging his nails into his skin before he can slip away.

It works.

Goro's here, his warm, warm breath puffing down onto Ren. He’s watching him like a hawk, face carefully neutral.

“I'm—“ Ren licks his lips. “I'm sorry,” he says, because he should. Because he means it. Because it’s easier to say over I love you.

Goro won’t accept that. It’s still Ren’s turn. A few moments ago, he could’ve backtracked, laughed it off. Of course all he needed was a nap and a snack. Always a generous host, Akechi-san, if you don’t mind him, he’ll be leaving—

But it’s too late for that. Goro's watching his next move, and he doesn’t know what else to say. Does Goro genuinely care? Will he kill him if he answers wrong? This is so difficult, fuck. This is why the only emotion Ren prefers to feel around Goro is fear. He needs to say something.

He’s never had to do this before, and he’s going to lose a lot more than his life if he doesn’t. He wouldn’t care if it was just his own survival, but—Goro's different.

Ren makes a decision.

“I need your help,” Ren says, voice barely audible within the expanse of Goro's room. He continues, even smaller, “Don’t leave me?”

And that, final nail softens Goro's expression into something Ren would almost call warm.

“God, you’re an idiot,” Goro says, his usual snark returning to his voice. “If you’re so desperate, you can stay with me for the night. You don’t take up that much room, I suppose.”

Ren melts in relief. Before he can ask if this means a truce, Goro starts, “I do really...”

Ren blinks. Goro doesn’t finish. Like the fool he is, Ren asks, “Really what?”

Goro's mask slides back on. To Ren, it’s just a narrow of the eyes in thought. “I do wonder when the heat will come back on. At least you’re not freezing anymore. What’re your symptoms?”

And just like that, the night passes in a blur. To Goro's credit, he is far less overbearing than Ren feared. He notes his symptoms (just a headache, it really was mild) with a hum. Fills the silence with talk of work and gossip while Ren takes his water and soup. It’s a nice alternative to accepting that he’s here, sitting on a human’s coffee table, too weak to escape—all the while accepting freebies like they’re nothing.

At least Goro's here, radiating heat, snatching Ren up without a second thought. His stupid attractive face constantly filling Ren’s vision.

At least he hasn’t pushed away someone he can’t bear to lose.

Some time later, Ren’s settled on Goro's bedside table, glove a leathery sleeping bag. Goro's voice hums in the background, droning on about some co-worker and their petty drama, or whatever. Ren can’t stop listening to him. He also needs him to shut up. “Hey, detective.”

Goro hums. “What? Is the arrangement not to your liking?”

No. He loves being level with Goro's face. His hair frames his head like a halo. His big, stupid eyelashes flutter with every sleepy blink. He’s never been this close when his life wasn’t in mortal danger. His heart is pounding like he is.

The faint adrenaline gives Ren the courage to say, “I needed this—I needed you.” Ren smiles. “Thank you, Goro.”

And something beautiful happens.

From the tips of his ears to the corners of his jawline, Goro turns red. His mouth parts, ever-so-slightly. And his eyes...

He expects Goro to snap, to glare at him and hiss something like I told you not to call me that. He expects him to kill him on the spot. Ren understands this part of Goro: the mortifying ordeal of being named.

Instead, Goro reaches over, bare hand filling Ren’s vision. Massive fingers scoop up Goro’s glove and its passenger, lifting them up effortlessly. Ren can’t see anything aside from dark leather, can’t feel anything except the warmth of Goro’s hand. For a second, he doesn’t even care how vulnerable he is. He could stay like this, weightless in Goro’s gravity, until the end of time.

Eventually, Goro sets him down. Ren knows where he is even before he hears the steady beating of Goro’s heart. He unfurls, finding himself tucked into Goro’s chest pocket. His chest rises and falls, carrying him with it, burying him into warmth, fabric and utter bliss.

Goro mutters, voice reverberating through Ren’s core, “It’s easier to keep an eye on you, like this.” When Ren can’t help but smile up at him, Goro snorts. “Good night, Joker.”

And with that, Goro's bedroom plunges into darkness. Ren huddles into Goro's glove, hands reaching out to clutch the fabric of his pocket. He can’t help but smile brighter when he feels Goro’s hand curl around him, not overbearing, but close enough to feel his vulnerable skin.

“Call me Amamiya, at least,” He whispers into the night air. Even if the heat came on right now, Ren wouldn’t feel it, not for the warmth thrumming through his veins. “Or take me on a date first, Goro.”

He’ll tell Goro everything, soon, Ren decides, and drifts off to sleep.

[captainsavre]

100 Episodes and Beyond: The Legacy of ‘Station 19’

What we’ll always take away from the landmark series even after it fades to black.

BY MALCOLM VENABLEPUBLISHED: APR 10, 2024

Station 19 is ending, sadly, but when it does make its final farewell this year, Shondaland’s ABC series will leave behind more than teary eyes and a legion of loyal fans not ready to say goodbye. Though on the surface Station 19 functions as a standard emergency services/rescue drama, it has so much more going on underneath its fireproof exterior. For seven seasons now, the Grey’s Anatomy spin-off has become a landmark TV show in its own right, leaving behind a lasting legacy.

On a recent visit to the Station 19 set, where Shondaland was on hand to celebrate the momentous achievement of Station 19 finishing its 100th episode, which airs Thursday, April 11, we caught up with its beloved stars to probe what the show means — and talk about some of the ways the show will live on forever.

First-responder life

Perhaps the biggest and most important legacy of Station 19 is the way it reveals the struggles, sacrifices, and everyday heroism of first responders. Statistics show that Americans make roughly 240 million 911 calls a year — that’s more than 600,000 emergency calls per day. If we’re lucky, we’ll never have to make such a call, making it easy to forget that on the other end of that line are real people who get up every day and put their own needs and lives aside to help us when we’re having the worst day ever.

Through all kinds of calamities, disasters, and unthinkable emergencies — gas leaks and bombs, medical scares and car crashes, and of course, fires — we’ve seen these fictional characters mirror the courage and heroism real first responders exhibit every day. “I think Station,” executive producer and co-showrunner Peter Paige says, “has this magical formula of great action, incredible characters, incredible human stories that model a better way to be in the world.” Amen to that!

Mental health

The flip side of those incredible acts of service on Station 19 is the toll such a job takes. Sure, fires and rescue scenes make really good TV, but what has made Station 19 so impactful is the way it shows the human cost of such work. The death of Rigo (played by Rigo Sanchez) in season three is a good example: The subsequent group therapy sessions, where Andy Herrera (Jaina Lee Ortiz) and the team confront their grief and loss, illustrated how the job doesn’t exist in a vacuum and even the world’s toughest people feel emotional pain. “The relationships and circumstances really resonate with the audience,” Ortiz says. “They cry with us and grieve with us.”

Representation

“I feel like we have a lot of good representation,” says Zoanne Clack, co-showrunner and executive producer. “A lot of people who don’t see themselves represented usually on network television see themselves on our show.” She couldn’t be more correct. Station 19 has been trailblazing for the way it depicts a number of underrepresented groups — most notably Latinos, who are vastly underrepresented on television — in lead roles, with Pruitt Herrera (Miguel Sandoval) and Andy Herrera (Jaina Lee Ortiz) in particular as standout examples. Showing them as captains has been quietly revolutionary, helping to undo persistent stereotypes that have Latinx people in service jobs or as criminals. LGBTQ characters get a lot of shine on Station 19 too; we see characters like Carina (Stefania Spampinato) and Maya (Danielle Savre) living out their lives, and not being held up as perfect aspirational models but as everyday people dealing with work, relationships, parenting, and the like — just like so many LGBTQ people the world over.

Family

“I think everybody sees the family they grew up in and the family they created — good, bad, and ugly,” says Jason George, otherwise known as Dr. Ben Warren. Indeed, Station 19’s 100 powerful episodes give us unflinching glimpses into what it looks like to be a pea in a pod, so to speak, and navigate the dynamics of being in a forced cluster — particularly accepting and supporting other people even if, in the moment, you’d really rather not. From courtships to breakups, baby making, and confronting the finality to death, the Station 19 family have endured it all together, and viewers have gone through it all alongside them. And that’s just one of the many reasons why its impact will stick inside the hearts of viewers for years to come.

For more on the legacy of Station 19, watch the video above from the series’ 100th episode celebration. And catch the final season of Station 19 on Thursdays on ABC, or stream episodes on Hulu.

Link: 100 Episodes and Beyond: The Legacy of ‘Station 19’ (shondaland.com)

[bloody-bee-tea]

June of (minimal) Doom 2024 Day 3 - Well, well, well...

Satoru impatiently taps his foot as he watches how the girl currently talking to Suguru hands him a piece of paper. It makes something twist in Satoru’s chest, something ugly and painful, and he turns away with a huff.

He wishes Suguru would snap at her, would tell her to get lost, that he’s actually busy and does not have the time to talk to her, but Satoru knows that Suguru is too polite for that. Suguru would never do that, would never tell off a complete stranger like that, Satoru knows that very well, but it doesn’t stop him from day-dreaming.

“Can we go?” Suguru eventually calls out to Satoru and Satoru heaves out a sigh.

The girl must have left, then, and he wonders what happened to the piece of paper that no doubt held her phone number. 

“I’m not the one keeping us,” Satoru grumbles out as he makes his way over to Suguru who frowns at him.

“You okay?” he wants to know and Satoru glares after the girl.

She’s turning back just as Satoru finds her in the crowd and the look on his face must truly be frightening because she visibly jumps and then hurries off.

“You gonna keep it?” Satoru asks, sliding his eyes over to Suguru only to find him still frowning at Satoru.

“Keep what?” 

“Her number?” Satoru clarifies and great, now he’s mad at Suguru too because he made him say it.

“Why does it matter?” Suguru wants to know, stuffing his hands into his pockets and Satoru imagines he can hear how the paper crinkles as Suguru clenches his hand around it.

“It doesn’t,” Satoru mutters under his breath because it shouldn’t. It shouldn’t matter at all, and yet it does. He’s not sure he can explain that to Suguru, though, so of course the next thing that comes out of his mouth is something so incredibly stupid that Satoru wants to knock himself unconscious. “You should call her.”

He wants to pluck the words right back out of the air and stuff them back in his mouth but of course something like that isn’t possible so Satoru can do nothing but watch how Suguru narrows his eyes at him.

“Are you being serious right now?” he demands to know and Satoru shrugs awkwardly.

“I mean–she was kinda pretty?” In a very bland kind of way, not that Satoru looked at her for long enough to really figure this out.

Besides. He doesn’t even know what Suguru’s type is, anyway.

Suguru only continues to stare at him and by now it’s unusual enough that Satoru squirms under that gaze.

“What?” Satoru defensively says because he doesn’t know what’s going on anymore and it doesn’t help when Suguru simply huffs and turns away from him.

“Maybe I will. Call her,” Suguru eventually mutters and Satoru is glad that he’s no longer looking at him, because Satoru is certain that his face just did a very not normal thing at hearing that.

His stomach certainly dropped down to the floor.

“Great,” he mutters and picks up the pace, hoping to leave Suguru behind him, if only for a little bit, just long enough for him to get himself back under control.

“Satoru,” Suguru calls after him and he sounds strange in a way Satoru can’t place and that alone is enough for him to slow down.

“I’m just hungry,” Satoru quietly says once Suguru catches up to him. “Can we go eat now?”

“Sure,” Suguru agrees and they don’t speak about the incident again after that.

It still takes Satoru most of the evening to banish it from his thoughts though.

~* ~* ~*

Satoru fights the acute urge to strangle someone with his bare hands. The guy Suguru is currently talking to is leaning in real close and Satoru can see his hand brush up against Suguru’s waist as if it has any right to be there.

And yet Suguru is not punching him in the face and telling him to get lost.

Satoru doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do with that.

Satoru snaps when the guy smiles such a flirtatious smile at Suguru that a shudder runs down Satoru’s back and he even leans in close as if he wants to make sure that Suguru doesn’t notice anyone but him.

And that’s totally a no go.

“Hey, Suguru,” Satoru calls out and he absolutely does not bask in the way Suguru’s eyes snap to him without hesitation, the guy right in front of him clearly forgotten for the moment. “We were supposed to meet Shoko, remember?” Satoru asks out with a pointed look at the watch he’s not wearing.

“Right, sorry, I’m ready, we can go,” Suguru immediately says, leaving the guy where he is and Satoru allows himself a triumphant smile at the confused annoyance he spots on his face.

Serves him right, thinking he could take Suguru’s attention away from him.

“What did he want?” Satoru asks once they are a good way away from the guy and Suguru shrugs.

“He was asking me for a date,” he gives back as if that doesn’t mean anything and Satoru goes strangely hot at hearing that.

“And is that something you’d want?” he wants to know, praying to every deity he knows that his voice sounds normal and not as desperate as he feels.

Suguru gives him a side-glance. 

“You–do know I’m gay, right?” Suguru carefully asks, clearly knowing just what Satoru is asking about and Satoru blinks in surprise.

“I did not know that,” he replies, voice faint and decides not to care too much about why his heart suddenly feels as if it’s going to beat right out of his chest. “Do you want him, then?”

He doesn’t know why he keeps asking, doesn’t know why he always keeps pushing when things like that happen, but he can never help himself. He has to know, has to know just how close Suguru is to slipping straight through his fingers.

“I–don’t want to go on a date with him, if that’s what you’re asking,” Suguru tells him, no longer meeting Satoru’s eyes and again, it almost feels as if something possesses Satoru because he simply can’t shut up.

“Maybe you should,” he hears himself say and immediately wants to punch himself in the face. Instead he keeps talking. “He seemed nice.”

“You–want me to go on a date with him,” Suguru repeats sounding just as surprised as Satoru feels and he wishes he could simply teleport out of here right this instance, but they are supposed to meet Shoko and both Suguru and her would skin him alive should he ditch them now.

“I mean,” Satoru trails off with a shrug, not really explaining what exactly it is he means.

It’s not as if he knows it himself.

“Right,” Suguru mutters, something bitter flashing over his face and Satoru hates this; hates himself for always prying, hates people for hitting on Suguru and he even hates Suguru a little bit, for not seeing him as a potential dating partner. 

“You never turn anyone down,” Satoru eventually says, with a bitter twist to his lips and Suguru huffs out a laugh.

“It’s also not as if I ever call anyone back or agree to go out with them. It’s called being polite, you know. But of course you wouldn’t know because you haven’t been polite a day in your life,” Suguru tells him and gently bumps their shoulders together.

And just like that, Satoru already feels much more like himself again.

“I wouldn’t know because you’re never polite to me,” he pouts and that, at least, makes Suguru laugh.

“Because I know you and you don’t deserve it,” Suguru shoots back, grinning brightly at him and even though Satoru easily falls into this banter with him, he can’t help the wistful stab to his heart.

If he didn’t know Suguru, if he were just a stranger on the street, then maybe he’d have a chance.

Satoru hates that thought.

~* ~* ~*

Suguru is out, on a date, and Satoru wants to claw his face off.

He hasn’t felt like himself ever since Suguru told him that he’d be busy this evening and even though it’s only been half an hour since he left, Satoru already feels like dying. He has been pacing the entire time, his hands tugging on his hair and he doesn’t know how he’s going to survive the next few hours.

Oh gods, what if Suguru doesn’t come back at all tonight?

Satoru cannot be on his own with those thoughts in his head, so he makes his way over to Shoko’s room, barging in without knocking out of pure desperation and very predictably it earns him a lighter flung straight at his head.

He takes it like a champ, because he knows he deserves it and also because like that he can pretend that his head throbs because of that.

“What do you want?” Shoko asks him, not getting up from her bed but she glowers at him and Satoru simply sits down in the middle of the room.

“Suguru is out on a date,” he desperately says and there’s a beat of silence before Shoko laughs.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the consequences of your actions,” she then says and Satoru hates that he can’t even deny that. “I told you it’s stupid to always tell him to accept whatever advances he gets and this is truly deserved, you know.”

“Shut up,” Satoru grumbles out, because it’s not fair. Why could Suguru not go on a date with him? “It’s not–I wasn’t urging him to go. I was just–asking.”

“And subtly letting him know that it would be alright with you if he went on a date, Gojo, come on, you’re not normally this stupid. What did you think would happen if you always pushed him in that direction?”

“Not this,” Satoru whines out. “This wasn’t what I wanted at all.”

“But it is what’s happening now,” Shoko mercilessly says.

“Why couldn’t it be me?” Satoru whispers and Shoko snorts.

“Because maybe you didn’t make it clear that a date with you was on the table? Because you kept pushing him to accept these strangers instead of being the possessive bastard you wanted to be and now he thinks you want him to go on dates with these strangers.”

Shoko isn’t even looking at him anymore, too busy with her phone to give the situation the attention it deserves and Satoru glares at her.

“I’m having a crisis here, could you maybe at least pretend to care?”

“I didn’t throw you out yet, did I?” Shoko drawls out as her eyes slide back over to him. “That’s as far as I’ll go, seeing as this is a problem of your own making. You could have just confessed and asked him on a date yourself.”

“But–” Satoru starts but he’s not really sure how to finish that sentence.

Yes, he could have done those things. He also could have ruined the best friendship in his life like that.

“What if he hated me afterwards?” he asks, voice quiet and Shoko sighs.

“Not possible, and you know it. Gojo, you know he would have said yes, if you asked, right?”

“Is that why he’s out on a date with someone else right now?” Satoru shoots back and Shoko rolls her eyes.

“Goddamnit, do you maybe think that he’s out on a date because you kept pushing him to do that and he thinks he has no chance with you? Did that ever occur to you?”

In all honesty, it hasn’t, but he’s not about to tell Shoko that.

“You know what, get out,” she suddenly says, and Satoru knows her well enough to know that an argument right now would be futile. 

The best and only thing he can do right now is leave, before she starts to threaten him with bodily harm, so he gets up from the floor.

“Fine, I’ll go. Thanks for nothing, I guess,” he mumbles and Shoko gives him a viscous grin.

“Oh, you’ll thank me, alright,” she cryptically says and then expectantly looks towards the door.

“I’m going, I’m going,” Satoru rushes out and practically flies out of the door in his haste to get away from her.

Normally he would go hang out with Suguru now, but Suguru isn’t here, so there’s nothing left for Satoru to do but return to his own room, where he flops down on the bed, burying his face in his pillow.

Maybe wallowing in his misery is the way to go after all. He should have known better than to expect sympathy from Shoko, of all people. He should have gone there to get drunk, that would have yielded more results, he’s certain of that.

Satoru groans in his pillow, hating the thoughts Shoko put into his mind, the hope that comes with it. It’s all futile now anyway. Suguru is already out on a date; what reason would he have to agree to go on one with Satoru now as well?

Suguru might be out there, meeting the love of his life and there is nothing Satoru can do about that.

“Fuck,” he hisses, his voice muffled by the pillow and he wonders if he can suffocate himself like this. 

Might be easier than having to watch Suguru be lovey-dovey with someone else.

“Satoru!” Suguru’s voice suddenly calls out, followed by his door flying open and Satoru turns his head around in confusion.

Seeing Suguru stand in his doorway, panting as if he ran all the way here is not helping with that.

“What are you doing here?” Satoru asks when Suguru doesn’t say anything else, too busy catching his breath, it seems.

“What happened?” Suguru asks him, a hint of panic lacing his voive and Satoru frowns as he sits up.

“Huh?”

“Shoko said there’s an emergency.”

Satoru’s mouth drops open as he remembers how she’s been on the phone during their talk. She must have messaged Suguru at that time and Satoru doesn’t know if he’s grateful for it or not.

“There isn’t. I’m sorry you rushed here all the way.”

“You didn’t answer your phone,” Suguru accuses him, finally stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. “You always answer me.”

“I didn’t hear it,” Satoru says with a shrug, and in all honesty, he doesn’t even know where his phone is at the moment.

“Satoru, you–” Suguru steps closer to the bed, his gaze fixed on Satoru. “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Satoru glibly says and forces himself to give Suguru his best smile.

It must fall flat, because Suguru’s frown deepens.

“You don’t seem okay,” is the answer he gets, and that clears up exactly nothing for Satoru.

“It’s nothing.” Satoru has never been good at lying to Suguru, so he makes sure to not meet his eyes as he says it. Suguru is too good at reading him as it is, he doesn’t have to make it even easier for him. “I’m sorry you had to cut your date off short for nothing.”

“I’m not,” Suguru immediately replies and now that makes Satoru raise his gaze at him.

“What?”

“I’d rather check on you than talk to someone I don’t really know yet.”

“But–you were there to get to know them,” Satoru argues and he doesn’t even know why.

He should just take this; Suguru just said he cares more about Satoru than the person he went out with and Satoru should be happy about that, should take it and bask in that feeling and instead his mouth keeps running off again.

“You can still call them, right? Tell them the emergency wasn’t one and then you can go back, continue your date.”

“You really want me to go on this stupid date, huh?” Suguru asks, and he sounds so bitter that Satoru immediately drops his head. “Fuck, I knew Shoko was spouting nonsense.”

“What does she have to do with anything?” Satoru mumbles and Suguru scoffs.

“Nothing. It’s nothing. I’ll just–not be here, seeing as you’d rather see me go on a date than spend time with you,” Suguru snaps out and his tone is finally enough to get Satoru to move.

His hand snaps out, latching on to Suguru’s sleeve.

“Don’t go,” he breathes out but then the words leave him and he frustratedly works his jaw.

“Why not? Give me one good reason, Satoru, please,” Suguru pleads with him and Satoru thinks back to what Shoko said, to what Suguru said and he thinks that maybe he might have a chance.

He just has to be brave.

“Because I want you to go on a date with me,” Satoru rushes out, speaking so fast that the words are all smashed together and he can feel how Suguru freezes.

“Don’t even–” Suguru’s voice breaks and Satoru’s heart breaks clean in two at that.

Being brave is stupid, Shoko is stupid and now he’ll lose the one person he loves.

“Don’t even joke about that,” Suguru finally finishes and turns around to look at Satoru.

There’s a faint blush on his face, but that could be anger, for all Satoru knows and he’s about to drop his hand when Suguru takes it in his, tangling their fingers together.

“You don’t get to joke about this, Satoru,” he says, his voice serious. “You better mean it.”

“I do,” Satoru breathes out, feeling faint with relief. “I do mean it. Suguru, go on a date with me.”

“Why?” Suguru demands to know and Satoru would accuse him of being dense, of being mean, but he thinks this might just be fair. 

He has been pushing Suguru on dates after all and maybe it’s time to finally confess like he should have done a long time ago.

“Because I’m in love with you.”

“Why push me on other people then?” Suguru whispers out, though he squeezes Satoru’s hand.

“You know I’m stupid,” Satoru says with a shrug. “I just–I just had to say something and all this garbage came out of my mouth. I just–” he takes a deep breath “—I think I just wanted you to tell me that you wouldn’t go out with anyone else.”

His voice shakes the slightest bit as he admits that and Suguru huffs out a laugh.

“Gods, Satoru, you are so stupid. I thought you weren’t interested in me.”

Suguru steps closer, until Satoru has to part his legs to make space for Suguru and when he finally looks up at him, Satoru’s heart threatens to beat right out of his chest.

Satoru has never seen Suguru smile so softly before.

“I am so interested,” Satoru blurts out and Suguru laughs.

If it were possible, Satoru would fall even more in love.

“Then let’s go on a date,” Suguru says and leans down, brushing his lips against Satoru’s forehead. “Because I am so interested in you, too.”

Satoru pouts up at him, unsatisfied with where Suguru’s lips have just been and he seems to catch on rather quickly because he moves in for a real kiss. Satoru hums happily when they part and Suguru cups his face in his hand.

“I’m in love with you,” he says as if Satoru could doubt that anymore, but it’s still nice to hear and he thanks Suguru with another kiss for it.

“Where do you want to go?” Satoru asks then and in answer Suguru topples them over on the bed.

“I think we stay right here. Get some take-out later because I didn’t get to eat yet and maybe watch a movie?”

“But that’s what we always do,” Satoru complaints and then has a little aha moment when Suguru nods. “We truly are stupid.”

“Speak for yourself,” Suguru immediately shoots back and Satoru pokes him in the side.

“Don’t even pretend, it’s not as if you were any smarter than me,” Satoru says and relishes in the way it makes Suguru laugh again.

“Fair point,” he agrees and pulls Satoru close, tucks him right into his chest. “We really should have known.”

“Better late than never,” Satoru mumbles and buries his face in Suguru’s throat.

“Indeed,” Suguru softly gives back and then they stay like that for a long time, right until Suguru’s stomach reminds them that they should be doing other things as well.