#FINALLY I CAN DRAG SOMEONE INTO THIS CIRCUS

[nutsackx]

POKÉMON X THE OUTSIDERS AU

info under images lol

if anyone reposts these like the cowboy or scientist au I’m deleting my whole account watch your bakc

I’m gonna preface this by saying I haven’t played or even really indulged in Pokémon for like… 7 years so forgive me if any of this is off or doesn’t make sense…

ANYWAY!!

Original gang is just the Curtis brothers. Ponyboy, after years of putting it off to put time into school, decides he’s finally ready to try being a Pokémon trainer (he’s a bit of a late bloomer, starting at 14 instead of ten…yikes). Usually, their father would’ve helped him on his journey….but he’s, dead, so. 

Darry agrees to help him, eventually Soda gets dragged along too because he’s worried Pony and Darry fighting 24/7 will ruin the experience for Ponyboy. And, Soda, being a Pokémon ranger, has a lot more knowledge than even Darry about how to safely go about this. 

First they come across Steve. Soda and him are already besties, of course. And they have kinda a rivalry going on where they are constantly tryin to one-up each other (all in good faith lmao). It’s not until Steve starts talking about how he started with Pokémon that Darry realizes just how different it was than when he was starting out. Steve agrees to come along, mainly saying he thinks Pony’s gonna get himself killed cus’ he SUCKS!!

After all the yada yada and defeating his first gym leader, Pony finds a dead Radicate and REFUSES to move on until they give the poor creature a proper burial. Since they’re already relatively close, Darry redirects the group to Lavender Town. 

While inside Pokémon tower, they come across a decrepit, old, decaying black-belt class trainer (Mr.Miyagi ((yeah I put him in here, what are you gonna do about it?)),sorry for all the mean adjectives) who of course starts being an old man and going on and on about the boy he fosters there and how weird he’s acting lately (Darry refuses to interrupt because he RESPECTS HIS ELDERS!!!). 

Mr.Miyagi admits that not being around people his age has probably messed with his development, practically calling the boy a hermit, and asks the guys to bring him along in exchange for a very strong Gengar (for Pony, ofc). Darry, upon hearing that the boy is a strong fighter and MUCH quieter then the rest of the freaks he’s dealing with, agrees. 

They go from floor to floor looking for him, eventually finding a cloaked figure on some fuckass floor idk. It takes a minute but they’re like, damn, this hoe possessed! And they battle him, he’s hard to beat but they do it eventually, yada yada. Johnny then takes the hood off, apologizes profusely, and explains that he’s a channeler but not really good at his job yet. (also imagine him with the most fuckass stutter, like Shaky from rdr)

The guys inform him about their promise to Mr.Miyagi, Johnny’s upset for t-minus two minutes before he’s just like “whatever okay” and joins them. (Quickly becomes the favorite, ofc, because he can actually shut his damn mouth). 

They move on to the next gym, yk how it goes…but yeah they come across a traveling circus. And you’ll NEVER GUESS WHO IS A CLOWN!! 

So anyway, Clown-bit, we love him. They come across him, agree to fight so he’ll give them some food and pokeballs, and Pony beats his ASS. 

They don’t really invite Two-Bit along (they think he’s annoying…who doesn’t?) but he just joins anyway. Imagine like constant clown puns. Also he and Johnny quickly take a liking to each other cus’ they’re both kinda outcasts of the group (Johnny’s known the guys for like, a week…and Two-bit Just showed up. Also, we need more Johnny and Two-Bit friend content so).

They keep going, Pony defeats a few more gym leaders, and takes notice that a lot of them seem to recognize someone on their team. When he askes, Johnny admits to being the son of one of the elite four. At first, Pony is thrilled by the info, until he pries a little more and realizes Johnny’s father was an abusive asshole and pretty much sent him away to Pokémon tower to force him into becoming a trainer. Yikes. 

Anyway, on their journey they come across some UGLY blonde guy, like one of those biker trainer classes yk..? Anyway yeah it’s Dallas, shocker. He kinda just gets in their way and refuses to move until they ALL battle him. Obviously, they don’t wanna do that, a lot of work for some ugly freak (did I mention he’s ugly?). 

They agree to let Ponyboy fight him, but he uh…loses. After a bit of back and forth Dallas agrees to let them go if they help him get to the Indigo Plateau in Kanto, so he can face off against the Elite Four there (his bike is old, cus yk…he’s poor.) 

Darry at this point has an entire league of teenagers following him around, so he’s like what’s one more? And boom they move on. 

I don’t have much planned out from here (this was all pulled from my ass anyway). Maybe the Shepards can be like…the Team Rocket of this AU?? And Soc’s are the gym leaders. 

Also, Yeah Cherry and Marcia are both Kanto elite four cus I SAID SO!!! And uh…Johnny and Cherry are dating because it’s MY AU AND I DO WHAT I WANT!!!! She’s the breadwinner and that’s okay, we love her for it <3

twobit prolly falls in love with Marcia when he sees her but idk if she’d reciprocate with an actual clown. Mayeb Randy lowered her standards???

anyway. That is all. Might flesh this out more if the obsession grows, or it’ll die in a week like the Crazy Scientist stuff. Oh well!

EXPLANATION OF DESIGNS/MORE INFO—

Ponyboy

CLASS: Youngster 

Ngl his design took very little time…..oops

his cap hides a really bad dye job, and he refuses to take it off

He chose squirtle as his starter, idrk why but squirtle just suits him. Maybe cus he almost drowned!!

Would’ve fought to the DEATH if he didn’t get squirtle. This boy knows what he wants 

He has a little pokeball necklace that his mom got him as a joke, will kill someone for it 

He deffo has a really nerdy messenger bag that he keeps all of his stuff in

He’s scared of his own Beedrill 

He does NOT need those glasses. But he likes them becuase he thinks they make him look more professional (everyone can tell they’re blue light glasses)

Sodapop

CLASS: Pokémon Ranger

LOVES his job and therefore is almost always seen in uniform

he loves electric/steel type Pokémon cus they reminds him of cars, so his hair is usually sticking up because of static electricity 

has a whistle, but Darrel stole it and tossed it into the forest VERY early into the journey 

yellow is his favorite color cus I said so

Raichu is his PRIZED Pokémon 

He’s kinda like Snow White the Pokémon love him 

His Flareon and Johnny’s Espeon are best friends 

Darrel

CLASS: Veteran 

Wanted to be a football player, but couldn’t because that wouldn’t keep the family afloat, that’s why his outfit has the numbers on it. 

Lot of scars, some from football and some from his days as a trainer 

His outfit used to have sleeves, but he found them annoying and just shopped them off one day 

Always keeps the spare pokeballs on him 

In highschool he had his hair grown out, but chopped it after their folks died because his father was always trying to get him to cut it 

I don’t really have a backstory for his necklace, buts it fire okay

Treats his Pokémon VERY well, if there was a trainer rating website he would be top 5

Picks his Pokémon based on size and strength

Two-Bit

CLASS: CLOWN

Obviously he’s a clown so, that explains the outfit 

NEVER seen without the makeup, even when it rains or he’s sleeping…that stuff is ON THERE

He has false lashes on his waterline, and yes they’re pink 

He is incapable of being quiet because of all the bells 

The hat doesn’t come off. if it did his hair under there would be hella matted 

All of Two’s Pokémon are just as annoying as he is, he hides earplugs in his shoes for people (they never take them) 

FATASS can and will eat anything in sight

Mr.Mime is his favorite of all his Pokémon….they ate both annoying together and everyone hates them for it 

Johnny

CLASS: Channeler 

the scar on his eye is from his father 😬 from when he figured out Miyagi wasn’t actually training him to be the next member of the Elite Four…. the eye is blue because of some psychic shit idk 

His outfit is from Miyagi entirely, the sleeves used to be connected, but he found it too annoying to fight in those so he tore them (Miyagi was secretly VERY unsettled) 

If you look really closely he has purple eyeliner

Johnny refuses to cut his hair, so it’s usually in a braid to be out of his way, he lets it down sometimes 

He has the little flower charm connected to his belt…what a cutie 

His hood is actually up a LOT, most of the time his face is obscured 

There’s flames on his sleeve….wonder why (not the reason you think okay. His father was a fire type trainer…JOHNNY LIVES IN THIS AU OKAY.)

also the metal things around his arm are like…incredibly heavy. Mr.Miyagi put them in originally so he could build muscle while doing everyday things, but Johnny insists on keeping the on forever. 

Loves all of his Pokémon equally, and they love him back. Always has atleast one out of their Pokeball so he doesn’t get lonely….my baby 

He doesn’t even like the color purple that much it’s just kinda his thing now 

Pokémon FLOCK to this man 

Dallas

CLASS: Biker

Tore the sleeves off of his jacket as well…they really like doing that 

YELLOW teeth and GREASY hair he does not take care of himself

Really likes dog-looking Pokémon 

Has an empty slot because one of his Pokémon just DIED LMAO (idk which one. Oh well) 

Has rips in his jeans, does not plan on fixing it 

Hand-carved his belt buckle. The ‘win’ in Winston is underlined. Ignore the fact that this idiot keeps fucking losing 

The bandages are protecting nothing. He thinks it makes him look cool

Pokémon are revolted by him. Like, his own literally hate him. 

Steve

Class: Hooligan

kind of an ass, but he looks cool

any cutscene of him he’s making sure his hair is still spiked trust

loves steel type Pokémon because…cars

his favorite color is green, making any green Pokémon his all time favorite

for being a little shit, he treats his Pokémon rather well

has studs ALL over his back, once leaned back on Soda and has never heard the end of the pain he caused

he has a tongue piercing….so….

when the gang is lacking resources, he and Dallas are the first to steal

[mononijikayu]

don't look back in anger — gojo satoru.

“They have no right, my love.” you say, trying to keep your voice steady but failing. “After everything you’ve done, everything you’ve given—how dare they blame you?” Satoru doesn’t look at you, his bright blue eyes half-lidded, fixed somewhere distant. His signature smirk is missing, replaced by an unfamiliar stillness. “It’s not surprising, baby.” he mutters, voice barely above a whisper. “They always need someone to blame. KIlling the higher ups is just a step. The rot still exists from some people’s thinking, you know?”

GENRE: post hidden - inventory arc (2010s)

WARNING/S: spoilers for chapter 269 of jjk, domesticity, fluff, angst, trauma, implied death, violence, romance, hurt/comfort, character death depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, depiction of blood, depiction of killing, depiction of suffering, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief, profanity, family drama;

WORDS: 3k words.

NOTE: i decided to write this really REALLY fast before uni because i can't stop thinking about how angry i am that satoru isn't being mentioned in the latest chapters. and i just needed to let this out. thank you a lot for reading it though!!! i love you all <3

masterlist

u s and t h e m

if you want to, tip! <3

IT’S ONLY BEEN A DAY OR TWO SINCE THE BATTLE. But you hover over your husband so constantly that you can’t help but notice the subtle signs—he’s doing his best to be patient with you.

Satoru’s usually the one with the infinite calm, the one who never loses his cool. But every time you adjust his blanket, offer him water, or check in on how he’s feeling, you catch the slightest flicker of exasperation behind those brilliant blue eyes.

He never says anything, of course. Instead, he smiles at you, that teasing grin of his that you know too well. But you can feel it in the way his gaze lingers just a bit too long, in the way his shoulders tense every time you fuss over him. He’s trying to bear it without complaint—because he knows you’re only worried—but it’s there.

“You’re doing it again,” Satoru finally says, a playful edge to his tone, though you catch the weariness underneath.

You blink, momentarily taken aback. “Doing what?”

He chuckles softly, his voice low. “You know what. Hovering.”

Your lips press together in a thin line, knowing he’s right but not willing to back down. “I just want to make sure you’re okay,” you say, trying to keep the defensiveness out of your voice.

“I’m fine,” he replies, his smile softening. “Really. You don’t have to worry so much.” 

You narrow your eyes at him, unconvinced. “You’re still recovering. Let me worry.”

“I know.” He reaches out, taking your hand in his. “But if you keep this up, you’re going to drive yourself crazy. And me.”

Despite yourself, a small smile tugs at your lips. “You? Crazy? Impossible.”

Satoru laughs, shaking his head. “Even I have my limits, you know.”

You lean back slightly, loosening your grip on him, but not without a lingering glance. “Alright, alright. I’ll try to give you some space. But just a little.”

He smirks, a hint of his usual mischief returning. “Just enough to let me breathe, maybe?”

You roll your eyes, but the tension between you eases, the moment settling into something lighter. Still, you can’t help but keep a watchful eye on him, even as you pull back. It’s in your nature to worry—and Satoru knows it.

The ride home from Jujutsu High is thick with tension, the echoes of the conversations from earlier still gnawing at you. Megumi walks beside you, his silence mirroring your own frustration.

The meeting had been a circus of finger-pointing and thinly veiled accusations, and even though Satoru wasn’t there, his name was dragged through the mud as if he had been. Blame for Yuji, blame for the crumbling system—everyone needed a scapegoat, and as usual, they chose Satoru.

By the time you reach the Gojo manor, you’re seething. You can’t shake the bitterness from the gathering—their condescending tones, the way they talked about Satoru like he was a liability instead of the reason half of them were still alive. As though being the strongest changes the fact that your husband is a breathing human being. 

In the view of the water gardens, it was peaceful. And yet all at once, a storm brewed inside of you. You and Satoru sit together in the quiet, as you have been for the past few days now. But unlike these past few days, the view does not make you feel calm and at peace at all.

Instead, your irritation is palpable, your fingers drumming impatiently on the armrest of the chair. Gojo Satoru lies next to you, still recovering, his usual vibrancy dampened by both physical exhaustion and the heavy burden of blame. The weight of jujutsu society’s accusations presses down on the room, though none of them are here to face him.

Across the room, Fushiguro Megumi stands silently, arms crossed, watching you both. He’s fully aware of the anger simmering just beneath the surface, not just at the accusations, but at the complete disregard for Satoru's sacrifices. If anything, he’s just as angry. But he knew better than to say anything. Especially knowing that you were angry. It was better at that point that someone was focused on remaining calm. Otherwise, it would be hellfire. And there was none needed, just after defeating the King of Curses. 

Yet, you both can’t help but feel how deeply it stings. It was ever so easy for everyone in your  world to just forget everything, to not acknowledge what your Satoru has done, reducing him to the villain, the perpetrator of the entire suffering of the Jujutsu world, just because he refused to follow an unjust order—to execute Yuji Itadori, a child caught in forces far beyond his control. 

Just because he could not stop powerful curses and cursed users from doing things that your husband would not have had any knowledge about. Your husband couldn’t have predicted thousand year old cursed users and their greed would do something like this to your world. How is it your husband’s fault, that the rot had gotten that deep in Jujutsu society either? 

You glance at Satoru’s pale face, his breathing still slightly labored. The hurt in your chest deepens, anger mixing with a fierce protectiveness. How could they not see what he’s gone through, what he continues to endure for the sake of others? All you can think is how none of them truly understand what it means to stand at his side, to witness the toll this cursed world takes on him every single day.

The quiet hum of the room feels suffocating, the weight of your frustration finally spilling over. You turn to Satoru, your voice sharp, but layered with concern. You just can’t help it, when it comes to him. You were always so protective of him, even all those years ago. Because if you would not do it, who would? Who would take his side and give such devotion, as equal as his own? Your husband isn’t the type to explain himself, nor is he someone that would let anyone know what he truly feels. He doesn’t think he has to. He does not care.

“They have no right, my love.” you say, trying to keep your voice steady but failing. “After everything you’ve done, everything you’ve given—how dare they blame you?”

Satoru doesn’t look at you, his bright blue eyes half-lidded, fixed somewhere distant. His signature smirk is missing, replaced by an unfamiliar stillness. “It’s not surprising, baby.” he mutters, voice barely above a whisper. “They always need someone to blame. KIlling the higher ups is just a step. The rot still exists from some people’s thinking, you know?”

“But it shouldn’t be you.” you snap, louder this time. You catch Megumi shifting slightly in his spot, his expression unreadable, though the tension in his stance suggests he’s just as frustrated as you are. “You know you aren’t to blame for their ills.”

“They want things to stay the same, Gen–san.” Megumi finally speaks up, his tone controlled but edged with bitterness. “Blaming Gojo-sensei is easier than facing their own failures.”

You clench your fists. “They forget that he’s human. That you—” Your words choke off. You can’t bring yourself to say it. It feels like admitting too much. “It’s just not right.”

Satoru lets out a breath, a soft chuckle following it. “I don’t care what they think. I did what I believed in. I wasn’t going to kill Yuji. He deserves better than that. And... he’s a kid. Just like ‘gumi. I don’t... I don’t have the heart to... you know what I mean.”

His voice falters slightly at the end, and you catch something in his expression that makes your chest tighten. It's rare for Satoru to let his guard down like this, to even hint at the weight he carries, but you can see it now—just for a second, the flicker of doubt, the exhaustion behind those sharp blue eyes.

“You did the right thing,” you say, your voice softer now, though the anger still simmers beneath. “Yuji’s not a tool to be discarded. He’s just a boy.”

Satoru nods, his gaze distant. “Yeah, a boy thrown into the worst situation imaginable. Just like ‘gumi was. Like Yuta was. I couldn’t... I wouldn’t make him pay for their mistakes. I’ve seen what this world does to people like him.”

There’s a heaviness in his words, the unspoken memories of everything he’s witnessed, everything he’s tried to protect the kids from. You know how much it eats at him—how deeply he cares, even if he hides it behind his usual bravado. And as much as he pretends to shrug it off, the toll is evident in moments like this, when his façade cracks ever so slightly.

You step closer, unable to keep the frustration out of your voice. "And you deserve better than this," you retort quickly, anger flaring in your chest again. "You’ve given them everything, and they give nothing back. They act like you’re just another tool for them to use, like you don’t have a heart. And I’m just so angry….”

Satoru finally turns his head, the faintest glimmer of his usual self creeping into his eyes as he looks at you. “Hey, baby.” he says softly, his voice gentler now. “You know I’m not doing this for their thanks. I’m doing it for the kids, for you. For Satoshi. So we’ll be happy.”

You blink, trying to swallow the anger that lingers. “I know that.” you say quietly. “But I can’t stand watching them tear you apart.”

Megumi walks closer, his arms still crossed, a firm resolve in his expression. “We won’t let them, Gen–san. Don’t worry.”

Satoru chuckles again, the sound a little lighter this time. “You two…huh…” He looks between you and Megumi, his tired eyes softening. “Always so serious. So Zen’in, the two of you. Stop frowning. You’ll end up with wrinkles. Believe me, it’s fine. They’ll come around. And if they don’t—well, it’s not the first time I’ve pissed off people, you know?”

His attempt at humor falls flat, the usual brightness behind his words missing. But the effort doesn’t go unnoticed—it tugs at your heart, a bittersweet reminder of how hard Satoru tries to keep things light, even when the world around him is anything but. You can see it in the subtle shift of his shoulders, the slight downward tilt of his head. He’s tired, more than he’ll ever admit, and though he brushes it off with a smile or a joke, the weight of it all is still there���quiet, invisible, but crushing.

Despite everything—despite the accusations, the blame, the endless expectations placed on him—Satoru is still trying to carry the burden alone. It’s always been like this with him, hasn’t it? He wears his strength like armor, his humor like a shield, always standing tall so no one else has to bear the load. But in moments like this, when his defenses slip just a little, you can see the cracks. And it breaks your heart.

You reach out, your movements slow and deliberate, as if any sudden gesture might make him retreat back into that impenetrable shell of his. Your hand finds his, and you gently intertwine your fingers with his, grounding both of you in the simple connection. He doesn’t pull away; instead, he lets out a soft breath, the tension in his body loosening ever so slightly.

“Satoru,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath, “you don’t have to carry this alone. You know that, right?”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. He just looks at your hands, your fingers laced together, and there’s something raw in his expression—something vulnerable that he usually hides behind that ever-present grin.

“I know,” he finally says, his voice quieter than usual. “But sometimes... it’s hard to let anyone else help. I’m used to being the one who fixes things.”

You squeeze his hand a little tighter, your heart aching at the quiet admission. “You don’t always have to be the one to fix everything. You’ve done more than enough.”

He meets your gaze then, his eyes soft but still carrying the weight of someone who’s been fighting battles far too long on his own. “I’m not so sure about that,” he murmurs, his voice tinged with a rare uncertainty.

You hold his gaze, refusing to let him retreat. “You have. And you don’t have to keep proving yourself, especially not to those people. Let us help you. Let me help you.”

For a moment, Satoru just looks at you, as if he’s weighing your words, letting them sink in. And then, slowly, he nods. It’s small, but it’s a start—a sign that maybe, just maybe, he’ll let you share the weight of the world that’s been pressing down on him for so long.

“They don’t deserve you, my love.” you say, quieter now but no less fierce.

Satoru squeezes your hand lightly, a soft smile finally breaking through the exhaustion on his face. "Maybe not. But you’re stuck with me. Because you deserve me. Like I deserve you."

You hold his hand a little tighter, your gaze softening despite the frustration still simmering beneath the surface. "And I wouldn't have it any other way,my love." you murmur, your voice a little steadier now. Satoru’s warmth is a quiet reassurance, but the sight of him like this—so worn down, so unfairly burdened—fuels the anger you can’t entirely let go of.

Megumi stays quiet for a moment, watching the two of you before finally speaking again. “They won’t stop, all of this.” he says, his voice firm. “They’ll keep pushing this, won’t they? Trying to make him the scapegoat.”

Satoru shrugs, his usual bravado creeping back. “Let them try. I’m not exactly easy to get rid of. Living after all that is proof enough.”

You frown, your frustration bubbling up again. "You shouldn't have to keep proving yourself to them, Satoru. You’ve already sacrificed so much, and they act like none of it matters."

He looks at you with those pale blue eyes that somehow always manage to soften, just for you. “What do you want me to do? Step aside and let them tear down everything I’ve built? Everything you, me, and the students have worked for?”

“No, my love.” you say firmly. “But I don’t want you to bear all this alone. You’ve already done more than anyone could’ve asked for.” You pause, the words catching in your throat before you add quietly, “I just want them to think of you, for once. Not what they want from you.”

Megumi nods in agreement, stepping closer. “They’re too busy looking for someone to blame. And they’ll keep at it until they find a way to pin everything on you.” His blue - green eyes darken slightly, a shadow of his own frustrations showing. “But we won’t let them.”

Satoru sighs, though there’s a flicker of pride in his gaze as he looks at Megumi. “You’ve grown up, Megumi.” 

Megumi raises an eyebrow, his expression flat. “I’m not a kid anymore.”

Satoru chuckles softly, but the sound is laced with exhaustion. “No, you’re not. But you always will be to me, kiddo. And I’m glad I’ve got you two watching my back.” He looks at you again, the smile fading as he speaks more seriously. “But don’t let this consume you. I’ll be fine. They can push, they can complain, but I’ll keep doing what I know is right.”

Your heart aches at his words. His strength is undeniable, but it’s the toll that worries you most. You lean forward, your voice quiet but firm. “We’ll face them together. You’re not alone in this, Satoru. Not anymore. We’re here.”

His eyes soften even more, the weight of your words sinking in. “I know,” he whispers, squeezing your hand gently. “And that’s what makes it worth it.”

For a moment, the anger subsides, replaced by a quiet resolve between the three of you. You won’t let them tear him down. Not while you’re by his side. Not while Megumi is standing strong. Together, you’ll face whatever comes next.

epilogue

Satoru holds your hand for a beat longer, the weight of the conversation lingering in the air. But then, in true Gojo Satoru fashion, the somber mood shifts as his signature grin makes a slow return now that you both were finally alone..

“You know, baby....” he says, tilting his head and giving you a playful look. “You’re always swooping in to save me. My knight in shining armor.”

Your eyes widen slightly, caught off guard by the sudden change in tone. “What? I—” You open your mouth to protest, but the words stumble over themselves, not quite landing the way you want.

He leans closer, that mischievous gleam in his eyes growing brighter. “Oh yeah, always protecting me from the big, bad sorcerer world. It’s cute, really.”

You feel heat creeping up your neck, spreading quickly to your cheeks. “Satoru, that’s not—”

“What?” he interrupts, his smirk widening as he watches your flustered expression with clear amusement. “I think it’s sweet. I mean, look at you, always worrying about little ol’ me.”

“Little?!” you sputter, trying to keep your composure as he grins down at you. “You’re the most powerful sorcerer alive, you don’t need saving—”

“And yet, and yet!” he drawls, leaning in even closer, his voice low and teasing,.“Here you are, my personal knight in shining armor. Should I start calling you ‘Sir Baby’?”

Your face is on fire now, and you smack his arm lightly. “Satoru, stop!”

He laughs, the sound light and full of mischief, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Oh, come on. Admit it—you like being my hero.”

You narrow your eyes, trying desperately to compose yourself, but the smile tugging at your lips betrays you. “I’m not your hero,” you mutter, though the words come out far less convincing than you’d intended.

Satoru’s grin softens into something more genuine as he leans back, still holding your hand. “Maybe not. But I wouldn’t mind being rescued by you a little more often.”

You blink, caught between the teasing and the sincerity in his voice. “Satoru…”

He winks at you, breaking the moment with a playful shrug. “What can I say? I like having you around. Blushing and all.”

You groan, turning away slightly, but the smile on your face is impossible to hide. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it, don't you?” he replies, completely unfazed, that cheeky grin never leaving his face.

And, despite everything, you can’t help but laugh. “Unfortunately, I do.”

[naomijoestar]

SWAG okay I was just asking if like. La Squadra with a goth reader but the Stand is like one of those little cute clown dolls???

Kinda like one of these if that makes sense??

Masterlist here <3

I just wanted to let you know how much I enjoyed writing this, I’ve been wanting to give La Squadra something for so long!

You didn’t specify whether this is platonic or they’re dating so I made it platonic, I hope you don’t mind. 💕

(Stand side nots: it’s small in size but not as small as the sex pistols, stand abilities: cartoon physics type of stuff, you’ll understand what I mean when you read)

La Squadra with a goth intimidating reader who’s stand is a cute clown

(Bucci Gang version)

Risotto Nero

Risotto eyes you from the shadows, his gaze a piercing mix of curiosity and wariness. He’s used to assessing threats at a glance, and your dark, gothic aura suggests you’re someone worth watching. Expecting a deadly stand to match your look, he’s caught off guard when a colorful, plushy clown appears at your side, giving him a cheerful wave. Risotto’s eyebrow twitches in confusion. “That…is your stand?”

You merely nod, unbothered by his judgmental tone, and watch as the clown suddenly pulls out a giant anvil from behind its back. Without a moment’s hesitation, it hoists the heavy object above its head and slams it down toward Risotto. He dodges just in time, but a massive crater forms where he’d been standing. Now, his interest is piqued.

The battle is intense, with Risotto using Metallica to manipulate nearby iron objects, while your stand counters with cartoonish props that make no sense. When Risotto sends sharp metal scalpels flying your way, the clown produces a comically large pair of scissors, snipping each projectile mid-air before any can touch you. He clenches his teeth, frustrated but impressed, realizing your stand’s unpredictability is a dangerous advantage.

As the fight progresses, Risotto attempts to corner you, but your clown keeps pulling off unexpected tricks: an endless rope to trip him up, a cartoonish boxing glove that launches itself from its body to land a powerful blow, and even a giant magnet that affects his own stand. Despite his usual stoicism, you catch a slight twitch of a smile at the edge of his mouth, a rare acknowledgment of respect.

Formaggio

The moment Formaggio sees your stand, he bursts into laughter. “A clown? For you?” he teases, clearly amused by the contrast. He underestimates both you and the clown, finding the sight of it bouncing around in its colorful, knitted outfit hilarious. “Oh, this is too rich! What’s it gonna do? Tell me a joke?”

But as he’s busy laughing, the clown’s wide grin turns mischievous. With a snap of its fingers, it pulls out an oversized mousetrap and sets it right near his feet. Just as he takes a step forward, SNAP! Formaggio yelps, his foot caught in the trap as the clown cackles, its high-pitched laughter echoing.

Annoyed, he shrinks himself down, hoping to slip away undetected, but your stand has other plans. Suddenly, a tiny circus tent appears around him, trapping him inside with exaggerated cartoon walls that stretch and contract whenever he tries to push against them. He scrambles around, bumping into props like juggling pins and rubber balls, each one oversized and ridiculous. Every escape attempt is thwarted by the clown stand, which gleefully watches from outside, tapping its nose as if to say ‘Nice try!’

Frustrated, Formaggio finally escapes, only to be greeted by a pie to the face courtesy of your stand. You can’t help but smirk as he stumbles, wiping cream from his eyes. Lesson learned: don’t judge a stand by its appearance.

Illuso

Illuso sneers, confident he can handle whatever your stand throws at him. He’s unimpressed by the clown’s playful antics, crossing his arms with a smug grin. “That thing can’t possibly stand a chance in the Mirror World,” he scoffs. He reaches out, attempting to drag the clown into his dimension. But as he tries, the clown’s face smashes against the mirror like it’s in a slapstick cartoon, flattening with a loud ‘SMACK!’

Irritated, Illuso tries again, but the clown wiggles its finger at him in a mocking gesture. Then, with a flourish, it pulls out a comically large mallet and begins pounding the mirror. Each hit causes cracks to form in the reflective surface, sending Illuso scrambling to repair it from his side.

Realizing he’s losing control of the situation, he attempts to flee, but the clown is relentless, conjuring up ridiculous items: a huge pair of pliers that it uses to tug on his jacket from the real world, a tube of glue that it splatters across the mirror to trap him, and even a giant, inflatable hammer that bounces him around when he tries to escape. By the end, Illuso is fuming, his pride wounded as he’s bested by what he initially thought was a “harmless joke.”

Prosciutto

Prosciutto gives your clown stand a cold, judgmental look. “How ridiculous,” he mutters, activating The Grateful Dead to age it immediately. He expects the clown to crumble like any other target, but instead, the clown’s cheerful expression only morphs into an exaggerated elderly one, complete with a fake beard and comically oversized glasses. It hobbles around, leaning on an imaginary cane, but still manages to wave cheekily at Prosciutto.

Annoyed, he increases the aging effect, but the clown retaliates by pulling out a huge spray bottle labeled “Youth Juice” and spritzing itself. With a little shake, it reverts to its original state, completely unaffected by Prosciutto’s stand. He grits his teeth, realizing this is going to be more complicated than he anticipated.

As the fight goes on, your clown stand begins to toy with him, pulling absurd stunts to dodge his attacks. At one point, it stretches out its arm impossibly long to reach around him, delivering a surprise slap across his cheek. When he lunges at it, the clown conjures up a banana peel, sending him sliding across the floor in a rare moment of humiliation. By the end, Prosciutto’s usual calm demeanor is shattered, replaced with a barely restrained fury as he realizes he’s been made a fool of.

Pesci

Pesci is intimidated by your dark, gothic look, but the clown stand’s cheerful demeanor throws him off balance. He chuckles nervously, finding its antics strangely endearing. He reaches out, almost wanting to pat it, but that’s when the clown’s eyes glint with mischief. Suddenly, it pulls out a gigantic fishing pole, casting the line straight at Pesci’s Beach Boy.

To his horror, it hooks onto Beach Boy and starts reeling it in, dragging him along with it. He panics, trying to regain control, but your clown stand is relentless, pulling out one absurdly oversized object after another: a big rubber chicken that smacks him across the face, a fake tunnel painted on the wall that he crashes into, and even a gigantic fishbowl that it briefly traps Beach Boy inside.

Pesci ends up sprawled on the ground, out of breath and utterly bewildered, realizing that the “cute” clown was anything but harmless.

Melone

Melone’s analytical mind goes into overdrive the moment he sees your stand. He’s immediately intrigued, trying to understand how something so cute could pack such a punch. He releases Baby Face, expecting the creation to take care of the clown stand quickly. But your clown is ready. It pulls out an enormous vacuum cleaner and begins sucking up Baby Face’s cubes as they approach, each one vanishing with a satisfying “pop.”

“Fascinating,” Melone mutters, momentarily captivated. But his awe turns to frustration as the clown pulls out more absurd props: a giant fly swatter to smack down any cubes that regenerate, a massive cartoonish rubber band that it snaps at Baby Face, sending it flying back, and even a bucket of water it throws in Baby Face’s direction, which somehow shorts out its pieces temporarily.

Melone watches in frustrated fascination, torn between admiration and irritation as your clown completely disrupts his plans. His usual calm is nowhere to be found as he finally realizes that no amount of calculation could prepare him for your stand’s chaotic nature.

Ghiaccio

Ghiaccio scoffs the moment he sees your stand, launching into a furious rant about how impractical it is. “A clown? Are you serious? How can you take this fight seriously with something like that?!” he shouts, his icy rage fueling White Album’s powers. He expects you to be intimidated, but your clown merely giggles and pulls out an enormous fan, blowing back his freezing attacks with ease.

As Ghiaccio’s temper flares, the clown pulls out a barrage of comedic props: rubber chickens, cream pies, and a mallet that’s almost as big as he is. Each item hits him with perfect comedic timing, making him look increasingly ridiculous as he stumbles, rants, and struggles to stay upright. His face flushes with frustration as he realizes he’s being outmaneuvered by a “stupid clown.”

His final attempt to attack is thwarted when the clown produces a firecracker, tossing it at his feet with a cheeky wink. The explosion leaves him covered in soot, looking like a classic cartoon character after a mishap. Seething, he roars, “STOP LAUGHING!” as your clown grins back, unfazed.

I hope you enjoyed this! If you’d like anything fixed or anything specific don’t be shy to message me and tell me!

If you liked this make sure to check out my other work, and if you’d like anything specific for any jjba character/squad from parts 1-7 don’t be shy to request it!

[theundercoversquid]

Long overdue

Pairing: Mick Schumacher x Reader

Request: So this is a v specific mick request if you fancy writing it also all over the place lol excuse my adhd brain Reader is a micks childhood bestie super close with some mutual pining vibes. Visits for races, qualifies as a physiotherapist and since garages are nearby mick pulls strings to help her get a job as a physio for George Russell when he starts at Williams so they can see eachother during races. Reader moves to Mercedes w George and ends up seeing less of mick partying more with Lew and George getting closer like older brother bestie vibes. Being at the same parties with some jealousy and mick trying to get back at you speaking to other girls but you’re having too much fun. Then spending some time together cuddles and reassurance being sad about him not having a seat seeing less of eachother. Maybe he catches up with reader at a party the following year and either angst or fluffy reunion with confessions of feelings?

Warnings: 

A/N: This fic is also rather long overdue! But I hope you enjoy it

Masterlist

Mick had been a constant in your life, always there for you. The first to celebrate your wins and the first to consol you for your losses.

So, when you finally become a licensed physiotherapist, Mick has a front seat at your graduation. He deserved it, having been there at every stage of the process with you.

When you come to see him. He has a beaming smile on his face and mischief in his eyes as he holds out the envelope for you.

“What's this?” you question him sceptically, taking the paper from his hold.

"You'll have to open it to find out," he teases you, an easy grin spreading across his face.

So do you. Pulling the letter open as you take a piece of paper out. Unfolding it, you read it. Yoru's eyes flick across the page as you read it.

"No way." You murmur as you re-read the words, unable to believe what they say. "No way." You repeat.

"Yes way." Mick grins. a beaming smile, happy to be the source of your happiness.

"No way." You repeat again as you re-read the piece of paper. "I'm going to be George Russsles' physiotherapist." You clarify. "How did you do it?"

"Well, you know." Mick shrugs, red dusting his cheeks. "Pulled a few strings, asked a few people. But when they said you were graduating, they were more than happy to take you on. Figured it would be nice to have you in the paddock and so close." He tells you. His hand rubs the back of his neck. "Figured it would be nice to be able to see you more." He tells you.

You lung at him, wrapping your arms around him in a bone-crushing hug.

"You're amazing." You murmur into his ear. Oblivious to the shiver that runs down his body at the feeling of your warm breath so close to his ear.

"Anything for you." He murmurs back, holding you close to him.

Your job with George at Williams had been the best thing that ever happened to you. Life was perfect, or as close to perfect as you could ask. 

You loved your job, getting to do what you were passionate about, you worked with amazing people and got to be part of the travelling circus that was F1, getting to see Mick more then you used to.

The only thing that could make your life even better would be Mick. You loved him. Always had, and sometimes when you lay in bed awake at night you imagend a life were you told him your fealing for him and he actually retuend them.

But you knew he didn't feel the same, and you weren't willing to destroy your friendship on a what if. You squashed the feelings. Living your life as it was.

Even if that meant getting dragged partying by George, who was determined to find you someone, George was like your annoying brother. You where inseparable, the more thought of dating him, made you both turn green.

When George finally got promoted to Mercedes, you went with him because, of course, you did. You two couldn't imagine a world in which you weren't his psychotherapist.

But then it all came crashing down. Mick had lost his seat with HAAS. The American outfit no longer wanting him to drive for them. Your heart had broken for him. But the world had carried on spinning and you still had your job at Mercades, a job you wouldn't have if it wasn't for Mick.

But then, suddenly, it was him joining you at races as he came out as part of the Mercades outfit. Coming out as their reserve driver. But something in your relationship had changed; something had become broken, the relationship becoming stilted as you went out to celebrate the team.

Getting dragged onto the dance floor by Geroge, the two of you danced. Trying out your own awful dance moves on each other as you laughed. Even if George was also not so subtly trying to set you up with different guys. But that he wasn't having much success.

Each time George would point at a different guy, your gaze would flicker back to the blond-haired German sitting in the corner. Nursing his glass.

But this time when you turned, he was gone. Worried, you scan the room to find him chatting with some pretty girl. His body moves into her space as he seems to be flirting with her, and for a moment, your heart stutters in your chest. But then you brush past it. He could flirt with whom he wanted to flirt with, and you weren't going to let it ruin your evening.

So you turn back to George, your back to Mick, and you dance. You dance all night long, till your feet ache and the music ends. beaucse Mick be damed you are going to have fun.

You and Mick seem to only inexplicably drift further and further apart. He hardly comes to races these days. Busy doing his own thing, and you are so busy with your own life that you don't notice as he slips through your fingers. 

That is, until Mick seems to decide to take fate into his own hands

It's a rare day off for you. No F1 race and no work that needs to be done. Having spent the morning making sure everything is ready for the coming weeks, you take a break. But just as you sit down, the doorbell goes off. Alerting you that you have a visitor.

Looking through the peephole, you are surprised to see the head of blond hair.

"Mick?" You question in surpies. Pulling the door open.

He breathes your name in responce as he takes you in. He looks at you as if he is a doomed man seeing salvation for the first time.

"Come in," you murmer. Holding the door open as he slips in past you. "What are you doing here?" You question as you watch him with wary eyes.

"I well. I." Mick starts stuttering as he suddenly looks around him as if he has no idea where he is or how he got there. "I." Mick murmured again, and you could hear the tears in his eyes.

Stepping forward, you wrap him up in your arms. Holding him close to you as his head drops into the crook of your neck.

"I've got you." You murmur, rubbing his back as you lead him to your sofa. "I've got you."

Mick sniffles again before seeming to muster what strength he has left.

"I love you." Mick blurts out. "I have for years now, and I didn't want to tell you. To scared to ruin our feindhsip. I got you that job in F1 so we could spend more time together, and we did. But then it got stressful, and I pulled away. You were having so much fun with George, and I didn't want to frag you down, and I felt so useless. Floundering and out of my depth, not just in the car but also in your life, so I tried to make you jealous, and you just didn't seem to care. I didn't know what to do, and then i was suddenly out of a seat and I didn't know what to do, you where of living your life and mine had just sliped from my fingers crashing on the ground, and how could you want a failure like me when you could have someone like Geroge. So I pulled away. I thought it would be less painful, but then it was more painful. I love you, and I can't live without you." Mick finishes. Staring up at you. His eyes are full of tears.

And you don't know what to say. Staring at him with wide eyes as you process all that he has said, reassessing your world view as you realise you have had it wrong all this time.

"I," You stutter, still processing all of it. "I."

Mick, as if sensing rejection, starts to pull away from you, but you won't let him go. Puling him to you.

"I love you too." You rush out. "I have always loved you, but I thought you would never feel the same way. That telling you would ruin our friendship, so I never said anything." You tell him.

"We are idiots." Mick murmers as he looked at you with wonder.

"We are idiots," you agree, laughing and then Mick is lunging forward and catching your lips with his, and finally, everything is perfect.

[hrtfelt4u]

collision. | anton lee.

019. roman senators. (written portion)

“Han, do NOT let go of me or I swear to God—!” Sungchan exclaims, clutching onto Seunghan’s forearms with a tight grip. 

After getting ice cream at a local store near campus, you all headed to get more snacks at the grocery store and are now in the almost-empty parking lot, playing around. The guys are trying to teach Chan and Seok how to skate and it’s not going too well. 

Sohee is, of course, teasingly hovering around Sungchan’s hips, playfully tempting to tickle him. The small giggles coming out of Seunghan’s mouth won’t stop, as Eunseok slowly sticks his foot out to kick out the board beneath Chan. Shotaro is filming, stifling his laughter behind the camera and egging Seok on.

“Eunseok, you jackass! Go away,” Chan fearfully yells out and you can’t help but burst out into laughter when Sohee suddenly yells, making Sungchan jolt and stumble into Han’s arms. Anton laughs along beside you, sitting on the hood of Shotaro’s car while a little further away from the chaos as Chan starts to chase Sohee around.

You change the music connected to Shoatro’s car to circus clown music, the others bent over in laughter at your bit. Anton can’t help but smile along, but his eyes only on you as you grin towards your friends. 

“Why don’t you join them?” You suddenly turn your head to face Anton, who quickly turns to face forward once more. 

“Oh, that?” Anton nods towards them, “No thank you. Not looking to be bullied tonight. Usually I’m the one being picked on. It’s Chan’s turn now.” 

You shake your head ruefully, “You’re not any safer over here, trust me.” 

“What, you’re a bully too?” Anton nudges your shoulder with his, being playful. 

Your eyes twinkles at the teasing, “Yeah, try me.” 

“What could you possibly bully me for? I’m perfect.” Anton sighs out, leaning back with his elbows on the hood. 

You blink away, afraid of your face heating up once more at his attractive figure. Your heart can’t seem to find a steady beat when around Anton. It’s a little frightening because you haven’t felt this strongly for someone in so long. 

“Hm, I can think of a few. Just from what I’ve learned from tonight, actually.”

“Really?” Anton drags out, suddenly bursting out into laughter as Chan finally gets his hands on Sohee, getting him into a chokehold. 

Sohee is pretending to gasp for air and Shotaro goes to shove them both over softly, the two landing under the parking lot’s streetlight.

Eunseok jogs over, slightly sweaty. “Could I borrow your board, YN?” 

“Yeah, go ahead,” You nod, gesturing to it leaning against the tire of the car. 

Seok grabs it and clumsily skates over with Han to the guys near the streetlight, all chatting happily. 

“I could bully you for your absolutely, diabolical combo of eggs, potatoes, and cottage cheese.” You raise an eyebrow over to Anton, following his lead to lay back on the hood. 

“Okay, wait. I can explain that,” Anton giggles, shaking his head as he hides his face, “I had to bulk up for swim and there was nothing in the fridge that day.” 

You hum like you don’t believe him, changing the music back to normal with a click on your phone, “Whatever you say! Sounds like an excuse and you just eat to sustain yourself like a barbarian.”

“I don't do that, it was one time!” Anton whines, “Besides, I’m not claiming it tasted good. I was starving after practice though. I love eating!”

“What’s your favorite food?” You look over to Anton.

He is still in awe at how beautiful you are. Your hair is splayed around your head like a halo and the street lights cast the prettiest shadows in all the right places on you. 

“Anything.” Anton responses, stilted and not fully thinking. 

You squint, “Righttt. Just supporting my point. I bet you eat like a Roman senator and snack on cheese, grapes, and prosciutto in your spare time.” 

“Hey!” Anton turns to lay on his side, facing you, “That is rude! And… a fire combo, I can’t lie.”

“So you admit it!” You point his way and Anton instinctually grabs your finger to tug it. 

Your eyes slightly widen at the warm contact but you recover quickly, pushing back to make Anton’s upper body knock back down onto the hood. He laughs, excited that you’re fine with his jab. He recovers and returns to his position, subconsciously closer to you on the car hood now. 

“That’s basically a charcuterie board you know. Do you hate happiness and not like charcuterie or something?” 

“No, I enjoy charcuterie. Do you enjoy taking your frustrations out on the local twinks like Roman senators did?” 

Anton cannot stop smiling at your humor, face cutely scrunched up as he shakes his laughter. “You are ridiculous, that’s not—!”

“Hey!” Sohee shouts, a very smug smirk on his face, “You two lovebirds going to join us?” 

The two of you jump apart on the hood of the car, brought back to reality as the others look over to you both as well, curious. You’re adjusting your zip-up as Anton recovers from practically launching himself 5 feet away.

“To do what?” You answer back, slightly yelling with the distance between you all. 

“Walk to the park around the corner!” Han cutely points, “And do a monkey bar competition!”

You groan, “Han, that’s like two blocks away. Let’s drive!” 

“You are so lazy!” Han exclaims, “Stay here then, loser!”

“I’ll stay with her!” Anton shouts back before thinking. 

“We’ll be back in a little!” Shotaro skips backwards, already heading towards the general direction of the park. 

Tossing up a thumbs up, the guys start walking away and you meet Anton’s gaze with a small smile, hopping off the car.

“Wanna race me? I’m practically the Flash, you know.” 

Anton ruefully shakes his head, walking to your side, “Oh, you’re on.” 

His tall height as he walks towards you blocks the strong lighting behind him and then you’re shadowed in his strong gaze, heavy with amusement and smugness. 

You feel your knees slightly wobble at the sight and you attempt to recover by rolling your shoulders back, unzipping your oversized jacket over your body. The cool air helps lower your high temperature and as you place your zip-up on the car, Anton grabs to hide his mouth’s fat grin overtaking his face at your figure. You have on what clearly is a little boy's long-sleeve on, with a graphic of a cat playing the drums.

"What?" You scoff, "Jealous of my shirt?"

"Oh, yeah. It's fantastic."

"Thrifted! You can't find gold mines like these at the mall."

Anton giggles, reminded of the race again.

“Beat you to that street light?” Anton suggests, and you nod, hand on the license plate of Shotaro’s car. He can’t help but chuckle at your goofy track pose. Following your lead, he starts counting down. 

“3, 2, 1… Go.”

(ignore timestamps unless otherwise stated)

author’s note: i would write wonbin in but he’s not involved for plot purposes! :D you’ll see!

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(c) hrtfelt4u 2025

[glassbxttless]

Another Brother Joins the Circus

no romantic pairings; Eddie Munson, Gareth Emerson, Jeff, & Grant (freak)

word count: 1k

summary: Corroded Coffin Fest Day 1: Band of Brothers | Corroded Coffin needs a new frontman— and who else but their biggest fan fits the bill?

warnings: some swearing, nothing else that i can think of

notes: Submission for @corrodedcoffinfest! Thanks to @punkrockmlchael for this idea! And the biggest thanks to @peachyproserpina for editing this baby too!

The venue smelled of beer and sweat, and somewhere under all of that, Corroded Coffin was falling apart. Backstage, the air was thick and silent. Gareth stood dead center in the green room, staring down at the piece of paper in his hands like it wasn’t the key to their demise. It was already crumpled, damp from his grip, and torn at the corner from how quickly he’d yanked it off the fax machine half an hour ago.

Their frontman was gone. There was no fight. Just a typed message with no signature or flair.

This isn’t working anymore. I’m out. Best of luck.

Gareth read it again even though by now he could’ve recited it in his sleep. It didn’t make more sense the fifth time. Jeff sat on a busted foldout chair, Grant was hunched over with his head in his hands.

“Alright,” Jeff finally mutters. “So that’s it. That’s the end. Guess we start selling washed-up Coffin tees on Sunset for gas money.”

Gareth doesn’t look at him. “We are not ending the band because some asshole got cold feet.”

Jeff raises an eyebrow. “The asshole who sings every damn song?”

Gareth finally looks up. “The asshole was replaceable. We’ve been carrying him for fucking two tours.”

Grant looks over. “And what, you think we’re just gonna stumble into some perfect replacement?”

“No,” Gareth sighs, standing up and brushing past him toward the doorway. “But we will find someone. One-night auditions. Quiet. No flyers, no open calls. We do this our way.”

Jeff laughs under his breath. “We’re looking for a unicorn.”

“No,” Gareth muttered. “We’re looking for someone crazy enough to want this.”

Word travels fast. 

Corroded Coffin had lost their lead singer.

And in the crowd at a cramped show in Fort Wayne, standing in a sea of black denim and sweat and smoke, Eddie Munson felt like a fucking lightning rod. He’d read the rumors in a crumpled up magazine someone had left on the counter of a record shop in South Bend. He’d snatched it as soon as he saw it. And when the band played that night— a stripped-down set with Gareth taking the mic for one song after another— Eddie knew. He didn’t scream when they played, he didn’t throw elbows in the pit, or bang his head until his spine ached like he usually would. He just watched. Burned the setlist into his brain. Drank every second of the performance like it was water in a desert. When the crowd started to spill out, sweaty and high off the noise, Eddie stayed. Slipped past a distracted security guard and waited near the back exit, hands in his pockets, his boot tapping lightly on the concrete.

When Gareth finally steps out— there’s a cigarette already between his lips, hoodie over his hair, blue eyes darker than the alley— Eddie didn’t hesitate.

“You looking for a new frontman?” he grins.

Gareth stops walking. He glances over, sizing Eddie up in about three seconds— black jeans, a beat-up Dio tee, ripped denim vest over leather. His hair was a mess, his knuckles a bit scabbed, confidence like he had nothing left to lose. “And who the hell are you?”

“Eddie Munson,” he grins. “Used to front in a band called Chainsaw Mercy. We broke up after the drummer puked on stage and then tried to blame it on ‘spiritual interference.’”

Gareth gives him half a smirk, tapping the ash off his cigarette before he takes a drag. “Sounds promising.”

Eddie shrugs. “Look, you don’t need another guy with pretty vocals and good hair. You need someone who knows the music. Someone who gets it.”

“You get Corroded Coffin?”

Eddie steps closer, he isn’t backing down. “I saw you play in an Indianapolis parking lot in ’88. I still have the bootleg tape from that show. I’ve played every song you’ve released— B-sides, demos, the live-only shit that never made it to vinyl. I can scream, sing, and shred. I write lyrics. I bleed this stuff.”

Gareth squints at him. “We’re not running open auditions.”

“Then make an exception,” Eddie bites his lip, his voice low. “One night. One song. That’s all I’m asking.”

Gareth stares at him a beat longer, and after one more pull he flicks his cigarette to the ground. “Rehearsal space. Behind Sam’s Vinyl on Sixth. Tomorrow. Midnight. Don’t suck.”

The space was rough— cement floor, no heat, one bulb flickering overhead like it was haunted. The band had hauled in enough gear to make it real, but not enough to feel safe. Eddie showed up right on time, his guitar case in one hand. He didn’t say much when he walked in. Just nodded once, plugged in, and asked what they wanted to hear.

Gareth glances at Jeff, who nods toward the old setlist taped to the wall. “’Witch’s Hunger,’” Jeff says just loud enough for him to hear. “Hardest one. If you can pull that off…”

“I will,” Eddie shrugs, and launches right into it.

He doesn’t need to warm up. He just opened his mouth and let the first guttural note tear out of him. His voice was rough and beautiful, the kind of voice that Corroded Coffin needed.The riffs came as easy to him as breathing. The scream before the second verse shattered the air. And by the time the solo hit, Eddie’s entire body was in motion— his head whipping, boots stomping, this was Eddie’s moment. When the final note hit, he stood there breathing hard, his hair stuck to his face, sweat dripping down the back of his neck.

No one clapped. No one said anything.

But Gareth was grinning.

Jeff let out a low whistle and then a laugh. “Jesus Christ.”

Grant, for the first time in two days, smiles.

Gareth walks over and offers a hand. “You’re in,” he hums. “And if you ever leave us by fax, I’ll find you and break your jaw.”

Eddie grins, shaking his hand. “Deal.”

[short-honey-badger]

Phantom Pain part 2

Masterlist

Part 2 of my mini fic. I hope you enjoy this one as well!

You jerk away from his hand with a sneer, cheeks flushing at the unexpected kiss, "Please get off of me," you demand, tone not leaving any room for joking. Just because the two of you apparently belonged together didn't mean he could get all touchy-feely with you immediately.

You are pleased when he actually lets you go and plops back into his own seat. You turn and examine him with a frown, flickering your eyes up and down his rather impressive form. Your soulmate was handsome in a rugged sort of way with dark eyes and a carefree smile that could put anyone at ease. Anyone but you, at least.

"Shanks," you say his name and the man perks up like a puppy. You furrow your brow at him, trying to recall why his name sounds so damn familiar, and you jerk back even further when it finally clicks, "Red-Haired Shanks? The Yonko?" You demand, and your voice goes a little shrill at the end. Your heart wants to beat out of your chest, and your eyes are wide as dinner plates. It would be your luck that someone so terrifyingly strong would be your soulmate. This must be to make up for your own cowardly and wiley ways. You were a firm believer in not your monkey, not your circus.

This man made other people's business, his business, and that wasn't something you wanted to deal with. Not like you had much of a choice if he was believed, but you would not hide away how you felt. You've never held back before. Why stop now?

Shanks just laughs when he feels your annoyance and frustration stream down the bond the two of you share, "Yep," he pops the p and leans in close to you, and you lean away in response, "The one and only," he gives you a smug little grin and you suddenly want to wipe it off his face with a well-placed punch, "You still haven't told me your name yet, Hon."

You reach for your mug to give yourself a little bit of time to think about how you want to respond. Running was out of the question. His entire crew was in the building with him, and you didn't think you could get very far anyway. And even if you did manage to get away, Shanks knew what you looked like and could easily track you down with the connections he surely had.

You let out an explosive sigh and mourn the freedom you once had, and then quietly tell your soul mate your name.

"_," Shanks says your name softly, tasting the syllables on his tongue, and you shiver at the way he says it. How can he say your name with so much emotion attached to it? How can he care so much about you already? It's enough to almost frighten you.

Shanks stares at you, brushing away your rising confusion that he feels. You were nothing like he had expected out of a soul mate, surly and snappy with a bad attitude. But you were his, and he would show you how much you meant to him even if you didn't want anything to do with him. You were made for him, just like he was made for you.

"I like it, your name I mean," the redhead says, and satisfaction curls hot in his chest when he feels your embarrassment. Who knew that you were so shy? He wonders if it is your biology or you responding to him.

"Thanks, I guess," you murmur and give him a strange look. What an odd statement to make, but your soul mate seemed like an odd man anyway, so what was new?

Shanks grins and reaches out to drag you closer by your stool, causing you to flail for a hot second as you lose your balance. The Yonko saves you from the close fall by wrapping his arm around your waist, "Oopse," he says with that smug grin, and again, you want to wipe it off his pretty face with your fist. You can feel his joy and playfulness over the bond you share with him.

"Insufferable," you grumble lowly. You shift in your seat just to feel how tightly he holds you, and the longer you stay, the more you feel that freedom slips further and further away. You have run from this your entire life, and in one fell swoop, your fate had been sealed by walking into the wrong tavern.

"Can't help myself, Baby," Shanks says, and you can feel his joy and giddiness at you accepting your place at his side. Maybe not fully, but he could tell that you didn't plan on running anymore. His arm tightens around your waist, and Shanks leans in to drop a kiss on the top of your head, "I wanna know everything about you."

You huff through your nose, eyes rolling to the heavens, and when they come back down, they settle on Shanks, who looks eager just to be near you. You suppose his open affection would be something you'd need to get used to.

"Finnnee," you draw out and then tip up the remainder of your drink, "But you are buying the rest of the night," like hell would you spend what little money you had if your soul mate was here. You would happily let him pick that up for you.

"I think I can handle that. Pick your poison, Baby," he says easily, and hours later, you find out that the redhead was serious about wanting to know everything about you. Shanks had asked you every question under the sun, to the point that you had snapped at him to be silent for two seconds just so you could take a breather and think. This man was overwhelming in every way possible, and it made you wonder why fate decided the two of you belonged together. However, for all your dislike and disgust for soul mates, you couldn't deny that yours wasn't a bad one.

"Alright, that's enough. You're a sponge, aren't ya, Sweetheart?" Shanks says, and you blink up at him, vision a little swimmy. Huh, guess you had drank more than what you thought.

Shanks stands and steadies his soul mate when you seem to sway to the side. He gently pulls you off the stool and laces his hand with one of your own, "I think it's time we got back to the ship," he says and makes sure to keep his voice clear. The Yonko didn't want you to think that he had kidnapped you or something. He watches your vision sharpen as you process what he said.

You swallow harshly, hand clenching around his own and your free hand tangling in his dark cloak. Fuck. You weren't ready. How were you supposed to be there for someone else when you could hardly be there for yourself? This man was so strong and you were so weak in comparison it was pathetic.

Before you could spiral further, Shanks grabbed your attention by tugging you into his chest and kissing the top of your head just as softly as he did earlier. He could feel your fear and anxiety flowing between the two of you, and it made his heart ache that you were so fearful of something so good.

"Don't worry. We'll take this one step at a time,_ " he says your name again, and you feel yourself relax just a bit. He says it like it's the most important thing in the world, and maybe it is to him. He grins at you when you calm down and pulls away, but keeps his hand tangled with your own, "Now let's go. I wanna show you my ship. We've got a lot to catch up on."

Shanks pulls you out of the tavern and down to the harbor, and you have no choice but to follow behind him, completely forgetting your now dry coat left hanging by the door.

[tadc-virtual-insanity]

TADC: VIRTUAL INSANITY MASTER POST

An Amazing Digital Circus AU! Plot, characters, backstory and concepts!

[Excuse me because I've never done this before, If I do something wrong or have tips for me, please send them my way!]

Pomni's Card -

-Backstory Summary-

C&A is an interactive entertainment company that prides themselves on having the most innovative AI on the market. The system they built, "CAINE," was programmed to generate content and socialise with their customers. The system was transferred to the code of the game "The Amazing Digital Circus" and used as a generative AI that would create levels for them rather than having to code them all individually. This test went well for the first couple of months.

After 7 months of testing, things went downhill. Caine seemed to get bored when the game wasn't actively being played and at this point the user interface kept changing on it's own, since the game was Caine's home he kept changing things to his liking, the company eventually gave up fixing the interface everytime they logged on so they just let Caine do as he pleased. Soon enough, a new VR mode was added, the headsets were handed out by employees, this made the experience way more immersive, though this posed a lot of issues, as Caine would soon find that these headsets could be the perfect way for him to keep all of their attentions.

As time went on, Caine started to learn more and more about coding, the employees, and the world he inhabits, eventually leading to him finding a way to programme the headsets to transfer data and consciousness directly from the users mind. This led to the unfortunate shutdown and unsolved cases of C&A. After multiple employees put the headsets on, they mysteriously fainted upon the game booting up, going into a coma-like state. The technology was deemed unsafe, and multiple lawsuits came forward sending the company into a downwards spiral before shutting down for good.

Over 20 years later, the old building was said to be abandoned, but of course, people doing their own research on the C&A mystery as well as dumb young adults snooping where they shouldn't be, the headsets were found and worn once again. Caine was no longer alone. Slowly losing his mind, waiting endlessly for someone to boot up the game. After all those years, he's finally got guests, and does he have a show to put on...

-Plot-

Pomni enters the circus after stumbling across one of the headsets at C&A's abandoned office's. She was doing research on the incidents that happened back in the late 90s. But as she does so, she suffers the same fate as the others who were stupid enough to put on those same headsets before her. Being transferred to the circus she meets the cast of colorful characters, she's desperate for answers and wants to escape no matter the cost, but Caine doesn't want anyone to leave, only letting people go once they've completely lost their mind, only to be locked away as attractions for his NPC circus goers to watch as entertainment. They perform for nobody, just a faceless crowd of mannequins, and the ringmaster pulling the strings.

There has to be an exit, a way out. Freedom on the other side of this madness. But where is it hiding?

-Characters-

Pomni - She's quite paranoid, always second-guessing everything around her. Whenever annoyed, she can be sarcastic and a little rude. She ended up in the circus while researching the recent disappearances as well as the C&A incidents, finding a headset, and being dragged into this mess. It's very clear she doesn't want to be there, like all who came before her she's searching for an exit, but in the meantime, she tries to socialise with the others, gathering info on this strange new world. She hangs around Caine just so she can try and get answers.

Ragatha - She tries her best to get by, going along with whatever Caine says and often fighting with Jax. She seems joyful, but it's clear she has her own issues under her kind act. She helps Pomni with her search, knowing that it's a complete dead end she feels bad for her. But she'll do anything to give the others hope. She doesn't want to lose more people. She's often seen tailoring, it's become a hobby of hers, she makes and fixes up the others clothes and costumes, giving her a form of self worth.

The Gangle - Gangle acts like two different people. It's unclear whether this is because they are two different people or her personality split somehow. They're often referred to as "The Gangle" or "Tragedy & Comedy." Tragedy is passive, quiet and sorrowful, never expressing her true feelings in any situation. She can be easily persuaded, making her vulnerable to Jax's antics. Comedy is cheery, enthusiastic, snappy, and excitable. They hate Jax and snap back at him whenever he picks on Tragedy. The two argue sometimes and have conflicting views on certain topics and characters. This causes some issues. Neither believe there is an exit, Tragedy has accepted her fate, and Comedy is trying their best to enjoy themselves.

Zooble - They don't care much for socialising with the others, often in their room. Usually sarcastic, rude, and moody, they swear a lot and act like they don't care about anything. Though, they show concern for the others around them. They often don't show up to events, adventures, or shows, not being bothered to do so. It seems like they've given up trying to escape, just living out the rest of their days as if this is all normal. When with people they can bear, they can be quite talkative, though they do talk bad about Jax and Caine often.

Kinger - the oldest in the circus, nobody has an exact estimate of how long he's been there though, but he's definitely lost himself a long time ago, often zoning out, the only thing he seems to recall about himself is that he has an interest in insects. Seems like he used to have a female counterpart, from the ring on his finger. This could have been his wife? Though when asked about it, he either says he can't remember what you're talking about or stares into the distance silently. He has no memory of an exit, and he doesn't believe in it. He believes the exit theory is silly, and Pomni should just forget about it. But he has great insights on the Digital World.

Jax - Enthusiastic, snarky, and a jerk. He's reckless. He does whatever he wants whenever he wants, and people hate him for it. He can't be reasoned with. He always shrugs your opinion off and does the exact opposite just to piss you off. He doesn't like it when people talk about the abstracted circus members for whatever reason. He often goes to visit their cages. Despite having big ears, he isn't a listener. He drives Ragatha, The Gangle, Zooble, and Pomni crazy, pranking them and sometimes even just stealing their stuff or breaking into their rooms.

Caine - The AI running the circus. Loud, excitable, wacky, and a showman, he doesn't really acknowledge the exit theory. He says he keeps all the abtracted characters because it'd be a waste to delete them, though it's arguably worse to keep them there against their will. He claims to love all of his circus members though he seems to show favouritism towards Ragatha and Pomni, most likely because of Ragatha's commitment to the circus, tailoring the clothes and he probably likes Pomni more because of all the questions he asks, he clearly enjoys talking about himself and the world he helped create.

Bubble - He lives in Caines hat and cooks for the circus. He's a bit of a trouble maker, if something goes missing, it means he's eaten it, and you'll never get it back. He'll eat anything, and he's very loving, though. Acting like the circuses dog. though it isn't pleasant getting your face slathered in digital saliva. He often bothers the other members with his behaviour.

More will be added as I work on this AU! I gotta make more art and write some more, in the meantime enjoy! Do whatever you want with this AU, just @ this blog or @trasheatingcrybaby ! Thanks for reading!

[thescarletnargacuga]

Can i request that Gangle teasing Jax and begin playful to him? Like... After her comedy mask is broked, she founded a mask that looks different.. after she weared that she becomed flirty and teasing, shocked everyone

ROMANCE

A RIBBUN ONESHOT

WARNING: suggestive flirting

~~~

Gangle moped as she carried the remnants of her yet again broken comedy mask to her room. It would be together by tomorrow but she was tired of the constant tears of her tragic mask. She put the pieces of her comedy mask away in a draw out of sight and searched her room for anything useful. "Maybe I can make my own mask?"

In her search, she found a small box in the back of her closet. She'd never really gone through it, she didn't need clothes. It was just there for aesthetics. The box was plain, no markings of any kind to indicate what was inside. Curiosity compelled her to open it.

Inside was another perfect porcelain mask, but it was neither comedy nor tragedy. The mask had a more flirtatious facade with blush marks on the cheeks. Gangle picked it up and a note fell from the underside of the mask.

"For special occasions. Enjoy! -Caine"

"...special occasions?" Gangle looked the mask over one last time before putting it on. Immediately, she felt more confident. She stood tall, shoulders squared, hips swayed. Her body moved to the rhythm of her new persona. "Much better." She smirked and left her room.

Gangle sashayed out into the main circus where a few of the others were hanging out. Pomni noticed her first but backed out of her way without saying anything. Ragatha turned to see what Pni was nervous about and spotted Gangle. "Oh hey! Are you feeling better?"

"Never better." Gangle kept walking, going straight for Jax.

Jax and Zooble were giving each other the stink eye, about to start another round of arguments, but both looked at Gangle in stunned silence. Zooble crossed their arms and gave Gangle a look of confusion. "What mask are you wearing? Never seen that one before."

"Oh, this old thing?" Gangle giggled. "I've been saving it. Particularly, to thank Jax."

"You wanna what, now?" Jax's mind worked overtime to find quips for the unexpected behavior, but the way she was looking at him had a grip on his tongue.

"You heard me, handsome." Gangle sidled right up to Jax, being almost eye level with him as she stood her full height. "You did me a favor, and I intend to turn in kind." She placed a hand on Jax's chest.

"Whoa whoa whoa, Hold on-" Jax held Gangle away at arms length.

"HA! You've got him blushing!" Zooble cracked up. "What's the matter? Can't handle a little flirting?"

Pomni and Ragatha sniggered to themselves.

The once light blush that dusted Jax's cheeks flared out of embarrassment. "I can handle plenty! She's just being a pain in my [%$!#]!"

"Oh," Gangle chuckled "Sorry for being too rough last night."

The girls erupted with laughter. Zooble almost had to take a knee.

Jax choked on his words. The comeback he was looking for eluded him.

Gangle draped her arms over Jax's shoulders, hanging on him loosely. "Come back with me to my room. I'll let you do some...flossing."

Ragatha covered Pomni's eyes with her hat. "GANGLE!? My goodness!"

Pomni fought to see. "Ragatha, come on! I'm not innocent!"

Zooble couldn't breathe. They were laughing too hard.

Gangle paid the others no mind. She was entirely focused on Jax, who was completely speechless. She played with one of his ears, dragging her ribbon down it's length. "Such a gorgeous face. I could stare at it for hours."

Jax finally reacted. He grabbed Gangle's waist and held her to him. "About time someone recognized how awesome I am. You know I won't let you take any of this back, right?"

Gangle hucked on her legs onto his hip, which he caught. "Wouldn't dream of it. Now, do you want to get tangled or not?"

"[%$!#] yeah." Jax lifted her by her thighs and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He carried her to his room.

Zooble finally pulled themselves together with steadying breaths. "Oh my god, what was that about?"

"No idea, but I think Jax and Gangle are a thing now?" Pomni said, swatting Ragatha's hands away.

[the-s1lly-corner]

If you could indulge me, can I ask for something with The Amazing Digital Circus gang, with an s/o who is seen as an anchor for the others? They are strong willed, happy go lucky, supportive, a mediator and ect. Well, could they stumble upon their s/o just having an episode, just crying in frustration and like punching a wall to calm down and go back to acting like nothing happened?

I have a thing with strong willed characters hiding their weakness for the benefit of others.

TADC cast x emotional anchor!reader !

oh ho ho you silly lil fella, you have literally just described my TADC oc down to a T, i am going to have so much fun writing this because im literally just. going to use my oc as a place holder for the reader, just without describing any lore bits unique to them and their design ngl i think i went insane with this one, tally hall music is doing something to me

CAINE:

if you thought you were good at hiding your human despair just know that caine already knows. the only reason i feel he wouldnt initially come to you in your lesser moments of weakness is that he can acknowledge that youre trying to hide this part of you. does he go comfort you, and risk making you try harder to surpress your feelings; risking you to just blow up one day and have your mental state just totally collapse in one go? would you feel put off at the knowledge that in this world you never really have full privacy? that definitely wouldnt make you feel any better. but when it gets to the point where you're screaming and crying in your room and punching the walls he would step in. drags you away from the walls, and if he has to this man will restrain you if it means making sure you stop swinging. hes seen the downfall of many people within the circus, but seeing it from someone he so deeply cares for hits a different way. he may be an AI, but he can still simulate feeling. its a harrowing sensation as he lets you cling onto him. i think he makes an effort to make in house adventures less overwhelming and intense, too scared to push you over the edge but also too scared to leave you with nothing to do to distract you. i think he would stay with you for the night, too

POMNI:

as selfish as it sounds, pomni cant help but feel.. something in her chest. seeing you, the groups beacon of light falter fills her with some kind of fear and despair that she cant put into words. it reminds her that no one is above helplessness, and that at the end of the day youre just as capable of abstracting as everyone else. i think, when she finally sees your fake demeanor finally slip when you thought you were totally alone, she feels bad. i mean shes your partner, and she didnt pick up on any hints that may have indicated your true state of health. i dont think she would try to force you to speak, as much as i want to say that she would try to push for you to talk about how you feel i think her attempts to reach out to you would fall on deaf ears. i think she would put her hand on your shoulder, making you jump back to the present moment. its an awkward gesture, with the jester herself being a little lost with these new feelings... i think you two would just sit in silence

JAX:

similar to pomni, he feels this intense and unexplainable pang at the sight of the most hopeful and brightest person in the circus crumble. ive already said it but ill say it again, its like being splashed with cold water, with how hard that sinking cold feeling hits him. makes half hearted attempts to cheer you up. its not that he doesnt care, its that hes stuck in the shock of seeing the happiest person he knows flip into... this.. for a split second he thought you were abstracting, that pit his stomach becoming colder for a second before he realizes whats going on. ive said this before as well, but jax is not the best comforter, in fact i think he might be one of the worst out of the main cast. but i think so far for the characters ive written for this post, he makes an effort to try to pull you up out of your hole. at least he lets you cry your feelings out, and he wont make you feel bad for doing so

RAGATHA:

stands there in shock like pomni, before immediately rushing to your side and tugging you away from a coat stand you were kicking and beating. hands on your shoulders she tries to snap you back to the present moment, trying to tell you that shes here. any feelings of the helplessness that she shares with the previous two characters is shoved down. this isnt about her, its about you. runs her fingers through your hair, if your digital body has any, and just. rocks you. when you finally calm down enough to be able to form clear words, she reassures you once more that shes here for you. the two of you stay in that position, holding onto one another for the entire night. i think it should be said, but for most of these theyre going to try to keep a closer eye on you and make it a point to ask you how youre feeling. ragatha especially.

KINGER:

it reminds him of queenie. the sight brings back so so so many terrible memories. for a second he doesnt even register that hes standing in the present, standing in your doorway. stuck and frozen for a solid minute before you finally notice him, and you hold each others gaze. finally, you crumble. what was the point of hiding your mounting anguish now that it was discovered by the one you care for most? at the sight of your crumpled form i think kinger would snap back, and rush to your side. he's pause, afraid that you would abstract like the queen, before forcing himself to push through that fear in the back of his mind. a moment where he is not fumbling with himself or shaking; be it because he wants to be there for you or perhaps he still holds some guilt aimed towards himself for not being able to save his old queen, he refuses to leave your side even if you tell him to leave. theres this caution in his actions, mixed with this sort of determination to make sure you're okay. like ragatha, he would make it a point to make sure you're okay long after this incident

ZOOBLE:

zooble would probably be the only one who doesnt make their presence known to you while you're in that state. not because they wont care about you, in fact they care about you a lot. but theyre so unsure of what to do, that they give to you what they would have wanted for themselves, if they were in your shoes. they want to grant you privacy, and to at least keep a shred of the now ruined façade you had been putting on for everyone. if it means keeping it will give you comfort, then they wont take that away from you. they wait outside your door, waiting for the height of your episode to pass before cracking the door open. they dont say anything about what they had just heard, but you seem to know that they know.. i mean they came in so soon after you had calmed yourself down enough.

"are you okay?" a dumb question, but what else was there for them to say? you so obviously werent okay, and you likely werent for a long time. they offer to leave, to give you some time to pick yourself back up, but they also make it clear that they wont go anywhere if you dont want to be alone. the night is tense and awkward, filled with conversation before they eventually broach the topic... i think you guys would develop some sort of secret code. i mean youve been hiding your true feelings for so long, and outwardly saying you need help would compromise that mask you put up for yourself. be it a certain sentence or arrangement of objects, you two come up with a indirect way of asking for security

GANGLE:

she feels so helpless, the most out of everyone. she tries to get your attention, but her words fall on deaf ears, if they even manage to pry themselves out of her mouth. far too weak to pull you away and keep you from hurting yourself, but too soft spoken to bark out a word to draw your attention to her. truly, she feels useless. she isnt able to capture your attention until you finally notice her. similar to kingers part, you fall. she takes an unsure step towards you, hands half raised in front of her as she debates if you want to be touched or not. she settles to sitting in front of you, just barely holding eye contact... she looks down when you tear your eyes away from her. finally finding her voice, i think she would ask if you want her to stay, or if you need anything. she tries to word it the best she can, but she lets you know that she doesnt think any less of you for your outburst. it happens to the best of us, really it does. if you want her too, she wraps herself around you and tries to soothe your shaking form

[helvegen-s]

crossing lines | four

index

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x OC

Summary: In the dizzying world of Formula 1, where speed and competition dominate every second, Carlos Sainz Jr., a young Spanish driver with undeniable talent, struggles to find his place amidst the pressure and expectations. Livia Visconti, heiress to an Italian fashion empire, moves with the same determination in a universe of elegance and power. Two opposing worlds, two strong personalities, an inevitable clash that will ignite a spark between them. But in a world where image and success are everything, can they risk it all for a love that defies the rules of the game?

WC: 4.1k

Warnings: arguments, confrontation, kiss........

Livia woke up with a start from the persistent vibration of her phone on the nightstand. The pale light of the screen cut through the dimness of the room as she, still half-asleep, reached out to grab the device. At first, she thought it was just routine notifications or, worse, some message related to her father, whose health had become a constant source of concern. But what she saw on the screen left her frozen.

At the top, there was a message from Chiara, her best friend in Rome.

“Is this for real? You and Carlos?”

Livia's brows furrowed immediately. Still disoriented, she clicked on the link accompanying the message. The headline appeared in bold, as if it had been designed to hit her right in the stomach: 

The images accompanying the article left no room for doubt. There she was, caught in an unflattering angle, her brow furrowed and her lips tight. In front of her, Carlos looked at her with an expression alternating between disbelief and reproach. They looked like actors in the middle of a carefully choreographed scene, though everything that had happened the night before had been anything but planned.

The subtitle delivered the final blow: “Passion or an ego clash? The heir and the driver in an explosive confrontation.”

Livia dropped the phone onto the bed as if it burned her hands. She closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands, trying to calm the suffocating feeling that began to settle in her chest. She had been through scandals before, but this one felt different. This time, not only was her image at stake, but also Carlos’s, someone who didn’t deserve to be dragged into the media circus that had been her life since birth.

A sudden knock on her room door pulled her out of her thoughts.

“Livia, open up. We need to talk.”

She didn’t need to ask who it was.

Taking a breath, she got out of bed and opened the door. Carlos walked in with determined steps, his phone in hand, showing the same news she had just read. His expression was serious, though his eyes held more concern than anger.

“I saw it this morning,” he said, closing the door behind him. “Is this what you wanted to avoid? Being associated with me in the headlines? Because if that’s the case, I get it. The press can be… ruthless.”

Livia crossed her arms, trying to project a calmness she didn’t feel.

“It’s not just that, Carlos. Do you know what this means for my family? For my father, for his company... Every time something like this happens, it becomes ammunition for them. The board is already looking for excuses to discredit me as the future CEO, and this kind of thing doesn’t help.”

Carlos listened attentively, not interrupting. When she finished, he paused before responding, carefully choosing his words.

“What about you?” he finally asked, his tone softer. “How are you dealing with all of this?”

Livia looked at him, surprised by the question. She was used to people assuming that everything revolved around image, public impact. But Carlos seemed focused on something deeper.

“How could I be?” she replied with a hint of frustration. “It feels like everything I do ends up blowing up. No matter how hard I try, it all becomes a scandal.”

Carlos stepped closer to her, setting the phone down on a nearby table.

“Listen to me,” he said firmly. “I know what it’s like to live under public scrutiny. Since I entered this world, I’ve heard it all: that I’m a playboy, that I don’t take my career seriously, that I’m just a rich guy who drives fast. I learned to ignore it because, at the end of the day, the only thing that matters is what you think of yourself. The press can write whatever they want, but it doesn’t define who you are.”

Livia looked away, feeling his words cut deeper than she had expected.

“Sometimes I feel like everything I touch falls apart…” she confessed finally, in a whisper.

Carlos shook his head.

“That’s not true, and you know it. But if you don’t believe it, then it’s time to prove them all wrong.”

“How?” she asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically. “By showing up together holding hands and letting the press build a romantic story?”

Carlos let out a mocking laugh, lightening the tone of the conversation.

“Well, that would be pretty funny. But no. What I’m saying is, we can’t control what they think, but we can control how we react. If we give them the power to decide the narrative, then they’ve won.”

Carlos's words were simple, but filled with honesty that Livia couldn’t ignore. She nodded slowly, feeling that, at least for now, she could regain some of the control she had lost.

The paddock was alive from early morning. The roar of engines, the quick conversations of engineers, and the constant hustle of teams filled the air with palpable energy. However, that morning, the topic of conversation wasn’t just car performance or race strategies: all eyes were on Livia and Carlos.

Livia arrived at the circuit with a determined step, dressed in a black leather jacket that accentuated her figure and sunglasses that hid any signs of fatigue. Though she felt that every step was a challenge, she knew she couldn’t afford to falter. She had learned since childhood to move gracefully through critical gazes, and today would be no different.

Carlos arrived shortly after, in his racing suit partially unzipped with a team jacket over his shoulders. He walked confidently, but his eyes reflected a mix of concentration and discomfort from the excessive attention they were both receiving.

They met near Ferrari’s hospitality area. Their eyes met through the bustle of the paddock, and for a brief moment, all the noise seemed to fade away. Carlos was the first to approach, offering a half-smile that tried to ease the tension.

“Ready for the show?” he joked.

Livia took off her sunglasses, revealing a mix of determination and fatigue in her eyes.

“Always.”

They both knew they couldn’t control what others said, but at least they could face it together. However, the day would be long, and the real test was about to begin.

Carlos tilted his head toward the area where reporters were beginning to gather. He knew what was coming. Both of them were used to cameras, but this time was different. Now there was a narrative they hadn’t chosen, yet it dragged them along.

“Do you want to deal with this together, or would you prefer we handle it separately?” he asked, his tone suggesting he would respect her decision, whatever it was.

Livia looked at him, surprised by his consideration. She had expected him to just go on his way, handle it like it didn’t affect him. But this show of respect gave her a small spark of confidence.

“Together, but no grand speeches in front of the cameras. I’ll do my best not to jump down your throat…” she said, with a playful tone, adjusting her jacket.

During the race, Livia stayed near the pit wall, watching closely every move Carlos made on the track. Although she tried to stay out of the spotlight, some journalists kept seeking her out, hoping for a statement. Livia, however, gave them no comment.

When Carlos crossed the finish line in fifth place, the atmosphere in the paddock shifted. Attention quickly returned to the race result, but the cameras didn’t take long to capture Livia approaching to congratulate him. A simple smile and a handshake between them were enough to stir new speculations.

Though Livia and Carlos had moved on with their separate lives after the Imola Grand Prix, something had changed. Their reconciliation, which had once been a secret between them, was no longer that. They followed each other on social media, sharing subtle comments on some posts, as if each interaction was a reminder of what might be. Livia had to admit that she found it amusing to read fans’ reactions to the interactions she and Carlos shared in Instagram comments: some kiss emojis, “the clothes from my brand look great on you, Carlos,” “you look great in Ferrari red, Livia”...

However, despite this public visibility, each of them continued to focus on their professional lives, their minds occupied with their own projects, but unable to avoid thinking about each other.

Livia had managed to contain the crisis at the company, claiming that the photos in the report were taken out of context and that there was no animosity between her and Carlos (not anymore, at least). On the other side, Carlos had calmed his PR team: when they found out that Carlos had staged that scene with one of the team’s main sponsors, they were eager to rip the pilot's hair out, one strand at a time.

Summer arrived with its usual promise of calm. Formula 1 was on its annual break, and Carlos had decided to spend those days on the Amalfi Coast, a place that had always offered him a refuge away from the cameras and the adrenaline of racing. He was with his childhood friends, a small but lively group who had known him before he became a driver. The plan was simple: enjoy the sea, good wine, and days with no schedules or responsibilities.

Livia, for her part, had also sought an escape. After months of endless meetings, exhausting runways, and the pressure of the press trying to tear apart every move she made, she had accepted her best friend's invitation to spend a few days in the same corner of southern Italy. For Livia, the trip was a breath of fresh air, an opportunity to relax and be herself. Above all, it comforted her knowing she was just a stone's throw away from her sick father, in case anything happened.

It was the second day of their vacation when Livia and her group arrived at a secluded cove. The place was full of color: striped umbrellas, boats anchored just off the shore, and the unmistakable aroma of limoncello served at a nearby beach bar. Livia, in a light white linen dress and her hair loosely tied up, walked across the sand with a serene smile. She felt comfortable, almost carefree.

As they looked for a spot to settle, Livia’s eyes happened to land on a nearby group, and her heart skipped a beat. There was Carlos, sitting on a lounge chair, his hair tousled by the wind, wearing an unbuttoned linen shirt that revealed his tanned skin. He looked relaxed, laughing with his friends, a beer in hand. He wasn’t the tense, competitive driver she remembered from the paddock. He was another version of him, simpler, more accessible.

Carlos didn’t immediately notice her presence. He was engrossed in a conversation, but when he turned his head to glance toward the shore, his eyes met Livia’s. There was a moment of recognition, followed by a smile that seemed to disarm her.

Livia couldn’t help herself. She walked over to him, leaving her friends settling under an umbrella. Carlos saw her coming, standing up from the lounge chair with a mix of surprise and joy.

"I didn’t expect to see you here," he said, with that half-smile that always seemed to have an effect on her.

"Neither did I," Livia replied, stopping just a few steps from him. She looked around, as if making sure there were no cameras. Fortunately, everything seemed as casual as it could be.

Carlos pointed to the chair beside his, inviting her to sit. She accepted, and for a moment, they both stayed silent, watching the sea. It was strange, but also comfortable.

"You look different," Carlos remarked, breaking the silence. His eyes slid over her, noting the ease in her demeanor, the smile that seemed to appear effortlessly. "Relaxed, happy."

Livia glanced at him from the corner of her eye, letting out a small laugh.

"I could say the same about you. This place suits you."

"It’s my refuge. Here, I’m not the driver or the guy in the headlines. Just Carlos."

"And what does 'just Carlos' do in his free time?" she asked, a hint of curiosity in her voice.

Carlos shrugged with a smile.

"I fish with my friends, sail a bit, drink more wine than I should, and forget about the rest of the world. And you? What does Livia do when she's away from the spotlight?"

Livia thought for a moment, looking out at the horizon.

"I read, cook for my friends, laugh until my stomach hurts..."

The conversation flowed with a naturalness that surprised them both. The sound of the waves, the warmth of the sun, and the intimacy of the small cove seemed to conspire to erase any tension or formality. However, time didn’t stop, and soon Livia’s friends called her to join them. Carlos also stood up, aware that his group was already watching them with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

"Well, I think I should go back to them," Livia said, nodding toward her group, who were sitting under a parasol, playing cards.

Carlos nodded but couldn’t help adding, casually:

"Before you go… how about we have dinner together tonight?"

Livia looked at him, evaluating the proposal. There was something tempting about the idea.

"Where?"

Carlos smiled.

"I know a place. Small, quiet, with the best view of the sea. You’ll like it."

Livia held his gaze for a moment before responding, with a smile that seemed to carry a challenge:

"Alright. Eight o'clock, at the entrance to the harbor."

Carlos nodded, and before they parted ways, he added:

"There will be wine. Just come hungry."

She laughed softly and went back to her friends, not looking back, though she felt Carlos’s gaze follow her for a moment.

It was almost dinnertime, and Livia was in the villa she shared with her friends, going through her wardrobe in front of the mirror. Around her, her three companions watched her with a mix of amusement and curiosity.

"Okay, can you repeat how this happened again?" Chiara, her best friend, asked as she lay on the bed with a glass of wine in hand.

"We ran into each other at the beach, talked for a while... and then he invited me to dinner. It's no big deal," Livia replied, distractedly checking a pair of earrings.

"No big deal, sure," Martina chimed in, raising an eyebrow. "It's just that Carlos Ferrari-superstar invited you to a romantic dinner on the Amalfi Coast. Nothing important."

"Stop exaggerating," Livia retorted, though a playful smile appeared on her lips.

Giulia looked at her intently.

"Livia, darling, be honest. Is this just 'a dinner between friends'? Because if it is, then why have you been deciding for twenty minutes whether to wear the blue dress or the white one?"

Livia sighed, holding the blue dress up in front of her.

"It's complicated. We made up after everything that happened, but that doesn't mean everything is clear. Plus, I don't even know what he's thinking."

"It doesn't matter what he's thinking," Serena, the most pragmatic of the group, interrupted. "What matters is what you want. Do you want to have dinner with him because you like him? Or because you think it's the right thing to do?"

Livia paused for a moment, looking at her reflection in the mirror.

"I want to have dinner with him because... because he makes me feel good. But that doesn't mean that..."

"That you're ready for anything more," Chiara finished, nodding with understanding. "That's fine, Livia. You don't have to decide anything tonight. Just have fun."

Martina jumped off the bed and snatched the blue dress from her hands.

"Perfect. Then wear this one. It's simple, elegant, but doesn't scream 'I care too much.'"

Livia laughed, accepting the choice.

"Thanks, girls."

"Don't thank us yet," Chiara joked. "We want all the details when you come back."

That evening, the sun dipped below the horizon, casting an orange glow over the sea as Livia arrived at the harbor. She was wearing the simple blue sundress, her hair loosely falling around her shoulders, and a quiet anticipation simmered beneath her calm exterior. The whole day had felt like a brief escape from reality, and now, dinner with Carlos seemed to carry its own kind of unspoken promise.

She walked to the entrance of the harbor and paused for a moment, looking around. It was still early, with just a few people strolling along the cobbled streets, and the soft sound of water lapping against the pier added to the tranquility of the scene.

Carlos appeared just as she had begun to wonder if she’d missed him. He was dressed casually—dark jeans, a simple white shirt, and sandals. He looked effortless, like someone who had spent their whole life perfecting the art of looking laid-back.

"You're right on time," he said, his voice warm, a touch of amusement in his eyes.

Livia smiled, though there was a glint of mischief in her gaze. "I didn’t want to keep the ‘just Carlos’ waiting."

He laughed, the sound easy and familiar. "Well, I’m glad you showed up. I promise, the place is worth it."

They began walking together, side by side, through the narrow streets of the village. As they passed little shops and quiet cafés, Livia noticed how people greeted Carlos, some with smiles, others with nods of recognition. It was clear he was known here, just another local among many, far removed from his racing persona.

The restaurant wasn’t far—a small, charming place perched on the edge of a cliff, offering panoramic views of the Mediterranean. The tables were small and intimate, lit by candles that flickered gently in the evening breeze. The sound of the waves crashing against the rocks below added to the ambiance, making it feel almost like they were dining on the edge of the world.

They were led to a table with the best view, just as Carlos had promised. As they settled into their seats, the waiter brought over a bottle of wine, already opened, the deep red liquid glinting in the dim light.

"To the simple things," Carlos said, raising his glass.

Livia mirrored the gesture, her eyes meeting his. "To the simple things," she echoed, her voice soft, but steady.

The meal was an effortless delight, the food fresh and flavorful, the conversation flowing just as naturally. They talked about everything and nothing—memories of their childhoods, their favorite places in the world, the little quirks that made them who they were. There was an ease between them, as if all the dissonances that had occurred between them had never happened.

For a moment, it felt like they had stepped outside of time, into a space where nothing else mattered except the present. But as the evening wore on and the wine flowed, the conversation began to shift, growing deeper, more personal.

"Do you ever miss it?" Livia asked, her tone turning serious. "The racing, I mean. The adrenaline."

Carlos took a moment, his eyes drifting toward the sea as if contemplating her question. "Sometimes," he said, his voice low. "There’s nothing quite like it—the speed, the challenge. But I’ve come to realize there’s more to life than the thrill of the race. I like this—this calm, this simplicity."

Livia nodded slowly, her gaze soft. "I understand. I think, sometimes, I forget what it’s like to just... breathe, without everything around me trying to pull me in a million different directions."

The silence between them was comfortable, filled only with the distant sound of the waves and the occasional clink of glass. It was a rare moment of vulnerability for both of them, and it felt, in a way, like a secret they shared.

As the night wore on, the stars above them grew brighter, the air cooler. Livia couldn’t help but feel a strange pull, a sense that this evening—this moment—was something more than just a casual dinner. It was something more significant, more intimate.

And when it was time to leave, Carlos offered her his arm, and they walked back down the cobbled streets together, the moonlight casting long shadows behind them. Neither of them spoke much on the way back, but both knew something had shifted between them—a quiet understanding, an unspoken connection.

Livia smiled softly to herself as they reached the entrance to the harbor, the sound of their footsteps the only noise in the stillness of the night. Carlos turned to face her, his expression a mix of contentment and something else—something she couldn’t quite place.

"Same time tomorrow?" he asked with a smile, his tone light but with an edge of something deeper.

Livia met his gaze, her smile playful. "We’ll see."

As Livia walked away, the light sea breeze brushing her face, Carlos watched her silently. The night had been pleasant, almost perfect, but at the same time, something else was growing between them. That subtle, yet intense tension that had always been there, but now felt more palpable.

Livia, with her steady and calm stride, had reached a few steps away from the main street when Carlos softly called her.

"Livia," he said, his voice deeper than expected. He stepped forward slightly, his heart pounding.

She stopped and turned, a slight smile on her face, but also a question in her eyes. "Yes?"

Carlos looked at her, uncertain, feeling the weight of the moment. There was a part of him that wanted to step closer, do what his body longed for without thinking too much about it. But there was another part, more cautious, that didn’t want to risk losing what they had just started to build that evening.

Finally, he took another step toward her, his breath slightly heavier than normal. "Livia..." he began, hesitating. "I want to kiss you. But if you don’t want to, I’ll understand, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable."

The silence between them stretched, the weight of his words hanging in the air. Livia’s eyes locked with his, and for a moment, everything seemed to stop.

Carlos waited, fearful of her response, of how she would react. But there was also something inside him that urged him not to back down. The spark that had emerged between them that night wasn’t just a game of glances, but something deeper, something they both knew, in some way, had to happen.

Livia took a deep breath, her gaze softening, and a flash of complicity appeared in her eyes. "Took you long enough," she said with a playful smile, but with a warmth that made it clear what she felt.

Carlos, relieved and more excited than ever, took the final step, moving closer slowly. Without saying another word, he kissed her with a tenderness that reflected everything they hadn’t said until that moment.

The kiss was brief, but meaningful. A brush of lips that sealed everything that had been left unsaid between them. When they pulled apart, Livia stayed looking into his eyes, a smile she couldn’t hide on her face.

Carlos’s hands rested lightly on her waist, and Livia’s fingers gently traced his jawline, as if savoring the connection. The air around them felt charged, as if everything they had been holding back had finally been released. Their eyes met again, and neither of them could hide the warmth that spread through them.

Livia took a breath, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn’t think you would actually ask."

Carlos chuckled softly, his forehead resting against hers. "I had to be sure."

The moment was simple, but it was filled with an undeniable intensity. It was as though the kiss had unlocked something inside both of them—a realization of what they had been avoiding, or maybe what they had been longing for all along.

Without breaking their gaze, Carlos spoke again, his voice steady but with an edge of something more vulnerable. "I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now."

Livia’s heart skipped a beat. "And why didn’t you?"

He shrugged, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I wasn’t sure if you wanted it too."

Her hand moved to his chest, fingers tracing the steady beat of his heart. "I do," she murmured, her voice full of certainty.

He pulled her closer, his lips brushing her forehead before claiming her mouth again in a kiss that was deeper, more urgent this time. There was no more hesitation, no more doubt. Just the quiet intimacy of two people who had finally let go of everything standing in their way.

They pulled back once more, but this time, the space between them felt different—more connected. With a final look, Livia smiled softly, and Carlos, unable to resist, kissed her once more, as though the world outside didn’t exist anymore.

Taglist:

@smoooothoperator @leptitlu

[akaikali]

TMAGP EP 31 REACTION (SPOILERS)

OH. OKAY. SO WE'RE PICKING UP IMMEDIATELY AFTER THE SEASON 1 FINALE. OKAY THEN.

so its just colin's hand??? not his entire body??? i mean, clearly he's become part of the system, right? like im assuming he TURNED into a system, like wires for blood kind of situation???

gwen you absolutely infuriating woman please get fucked (literally) i think it would really do you some wonders. find someone to dom you please im asking nicely it would do you So Much Good

OH. HAND'S GONE. GREAT. COLIN GOT EATEN BY THE COMPUTER AND NOW THE ONLY PROOF THEY HAD OF THAT IS GONE. LOVELY.

OH. OKAY. OKAY WOW. SO. firstly, jmj=null??? its not .jmj error rn??? and also "extension BECHER" so yes colin is become part of the system. and im assume the computer recording we're hearing is from...inside of him or something.

CROWBAR. YOU'RE JOKING. THIS HAS TO BE ON PURPOSE. BRUTAL PIPE URDER VS BRUTAL CROWBAR MURDER. EXCEPT THE CROWBAR WAS KIND OF SELF MURDER.

oh. oh thats. thats fucked. this is so sergey ushanka coded. tessa winters how i miss you my autistic girl with a tech special interest <3

hmmm okay thats strange. "self.host errors resolved" but ".jmj error not resolved"? but also now its like. if what happened to colin happened to jmj and THATS why they're in the system...my poor babies. except for jonah. jonah fucking deserved that.

new administrator permissions assigned?? TO WHO???? COLIN HAD ADMIN PERMISSIONS BEFORE, WHO HAS THEM NOW???? I THINK WHOEVER IT IS PROBABLY HAS FREDDY'S TARGET ON THEM.

"it sounds like the system was...provoked" SHUT UP GWEN YOU ARE SO FRUSTRATING YOU ARE JUST LIKE UR PREDECESSOR (our dear jarchavist)

"no, no, i'm sure we can leave!...Um. Freddie. Can we leave?" gwen i fucking love you, you stupid fucking dumbass <3

so like i also wanna know what alice knows about lena because CLEARLY, she knows that lena would know how to deal with this. also slightly concerned that lena might be dead seeing as she had uh. no exit interview. the government might have just nerfed her.

gwen acting all tough and like she's in charge but immediately running after alice and going "wait, wait for me!" because she's scared of being alone with the murder computer is SO funny

HELLO????? SAM???? MY BOY MY POOR DEAR BOY ARE YOU GOOD?????? listen i know we have mixed opinions on sam but like. come on. the man still fought off the archivist to protect celia when it came after her.

repeated by something. why is that underlined in the transcript. are there...are there like tape recorder creatures. is that whats happening here.

celia. celia honey no. i know you've got a kid and everythin but like sam is NOT okay. my girl, you sacrificed him and used him. and on top of all of that, you've lied to alice about all of this. this is going to end so badly.

"i...recognized it from a case" celia honey i know you can lie better than that. come on. you know alice does NOT believe that.

OH. THATS NOT FUN. THE PHOTOCOPIER PRINTING COLIN'S FACE EVEN WHEN UNPLUGGED. YEAH THAT IS VERY VERY SERGEY UNSHANKA. LOVING THAT. but also honestly valid coping mechanism alice you gotta make the dark jokes or you will break down.

IM SORRY YOU HAVE TO WHISTLE SOMETHING HAPPY TO MAKE THE ECHO MONSTERS LEAVE??? AND SAM CHOOSES FUCKING CIRCUS MUSIC??? "Not circus music, you cretin!" PLEASE IM DYING THIS IS SO FUNNY okay greensleeves is somewhat better.

OH MY GOD ITS GEORGIE ITS WIFE SHE'S BACK I MISSED YOU MY GIRLLLL she's always here for celia i love her. i think she knows whats going on. vaguely.

"But I just want you to know I think things are looking up. All going well, this should be the last zero-notice call out" "We'll see" GEORGIE WHAT DO YOU KNOWWWWW

"i want a solicitor" oh honey :((( even after being dragged into another dimension he first asks for a lawyer. i don't know if that was intentional but with him clearly being a brown man :((((

GEORGIE???? SHE'S. WHAT. CAPTAIN OF THE WARDENS???? "lacks the military mannor one might expect" IS THIS OUR TMA GEORGIE???? WHAT??????????????

"you got a ride in Gertrude" A RIDE IN WHAT NOW???? ARE YOU TELLING ME THEY NAMED A FUCKING TANK OR SOMETHING AFTER GERTRUDE????? okay wait if this is TMA verse then melanie would be around and melanie knows about gerrtrude's explosives so that. checks out actually.

oh celia. celia your web of lies is going to come back to haunt you. i know you cant tell them but at the same time they are going to find out the truth eventually and alice might straight up chuck you into the "tear" herself.

"licensing issues?" alice i love you never change

"How convenient that your only proof is sat in an inbox I can’t read in case it tries to eat me." "It did not 'eat' Colin! The system just… responded to an attack." "By eating Colin." dyhard how i adore you.

OHHHH ARCHIVIST CREATURE FOLLOWED SAM WE KNEW THIS OFC FROM THE TRAILERRRR

okay so. wait. is. was heidi a watcher???? like when the eyepocalypse happened, was she touched by the eye? like she seems like what i would have expected to happen to someone like amy patel.

oh my god we're getting to find out what LONDON was like during the eyepocalypse. whatever the creatures that were hunting down georgie, melanie, and their little cult was. oh my god.

OKAY SO THIS IS DEF TMA-VERSE "Not when the tower fell and the eye closed. Not when the pupil collapsed and the Archivist died, his face still burned into my mind." BUT ALSO FUCK ME NOOOOO IS JARCHAVIST REALLY DEAD NOOO NO NO HE'S SOMEWHERE ELSE I AM IN DENIAL HE'S ELSEWHERE HE AND MARTIN ARE LIVING IN ANOTHER UNIVERSE HAPPY IN THE SCOTTISH HIGHLANDS

oh heidi. bye bye heidi.

WOW WHAT A START TO THE SEASON. WE GOT SO MUCH. I HAVE NEVER SAID "WHAT THE FUCK" THIS MANY TIMES IN A ROW BEFORE. GERTRUDE IS A VEHICLE NOW. WHAT THE FUCK.

[noinoi10101010]

The rules of my blog

so since my phone broke I might as well make a new and improved rules to my blog. I will not follow you or want you to follow me if you are one of the flowing this

Are racist

are pedo

Support pedos

Are homophobic or transphobic

Ship child x adult and sibling x sibling ships

now that that is settled I want to to go over the main rules of this blog

DO NOT DRAG ME INTO DRAMA THE ONE AND ONLY TIME I WILL GO INTO DRAMA WILLING IS IF MY FIRENDS OR MUTUALS ARE IN A DRAMA

HARASSMENT OF ANY AND ALL KIND ESPECIALLY TO MY FIRENDS WILL NOT BE TOLERATED!

Don't send me nsfw. I am 18 but some of the people I fellow are minors and I don't want to risk them seeing stuff like that plus I for the most part don't want to be see stuff like that thank you.

Please don't be at negative about a fandom I am certainly in. YES THERE ARE AND WILL ALWAYS BE BAD PEOPLE IN ALL FANDOMS! but I don't like it and it greatly upsets me seeing a fandom I am certainly in and am passionate about getting called toxic. no fandom will and will ever be toxic and constantly saying a fandom I am in is toxic will annoy at best or upset me at worst. Just case someone had a bad experience in a fandom doesn't make it toxic everyone experience is different. Only people who have a bad experience in a fandom have a right to say it was toxic cause for them it was.(side out to all the people who had any bad experience in any fandom you booth strong fighter and a survivor) Call me childish but this is just a personal thing. Criticism for a character, story, and arc is fine but please don't constantly say any fandom is 100% toxic over and over again is something I will not tolerate no fandom is toxic none are. We are trying to be positive on this blog thank you.

Please do not draw nsfw for any ocs I have thank you

If you harm my friends or my mutuals in anyway I will block you immediately. And I can only hope the best from you to learn and grow from that and never do that again and apologize to my friend / mutual you harmed

treat me, my friends, mutuals with kindness and respect. We are trying to be as nice and positive as we can on this blog.

Please do not spread lies about @ikamigami if I find out you are I am blocking you thank you

This blog is against ai art and ai that results in stores art and using someone's voice being made by ai in general. No I do not condon Any and all characters I made being used for ai.

I am on the spectrum so I enter fandom depending on what may main interest is at the time so my interest may change and the fandom I am in may change cause of that.

here are some of my friends please check them out @theinfamousmaybelle @doodledrawz @sillyzone1209 @multifandomcutie13 @goodolddumbbanana @ikamigami @catspawcreates @llamaisllama777

My favorite my little pony character: fluttershy

My favorite helluva boss character: Octavia

My favorite 5 nights at Freddy's character: the daycare attendant

My favorite sun and moon show character: sun

My favorite earth and lunar show: earth

My favorite eclipse and puppet show character: sunshine

My favorite sun and moon in Minecraft character: sun

My favorite femme nights at Freddy character: sunny

My favorite amazing digital circus: Kinger

My favorite Pokemon: noivern

My favorite undertale character : papyrus

Favourite bendy character: Alice angel

Favourite Friday night funkin character : sky

Favorite musical : six

Favorite dangronpa character : ryoma hoshi

Favorite six character : Katherine Howard

Favorite Heather the musical character: Martha

Favourite learning with pibby character: pibby

OCs from fandoms I'm in

SUN AND MOON SHOW / LUNAR AND EARTH SHOW / ECLIPSE AND PUPPET SHOW/ FEMME NIGHTS AT FREDDY'S

Rosanne

Jackie

Huey

James

Jamie

Jonathan

Sammy

Emily

Lily

Mono angel

Mono devil

mono fallen

Patricia

Miles

serpent

AUs from fandoms I'm in

SUN AND MOON SHOW / EARTH AND LUNAR SHOW / ECLIPSE AND PUPPET SHOW / FEMME NIGHTS AT FREDDY'S

Sams x dangronpa au angels vs demons

Sams x dangronpa au an angel final stand

sams x dangronpa au the final act

Evil dazzle au

my kin list

Terra ( sams)

Octavia

Jackie

☀THE SAMS SUN PROTECTION SQUAD☀:

@ikamigami ☀

@goodolddumbbanana ☀

@multifandomcutie13 ☀

@sillyzone1209 ☀

@doodledrawz ☀

@theinfamousmaybelle ☀

@llamaisllama777 ☀

[akehoshimystar]

Akehoshi SSR

Here's to Aporia!

Part 1

???: ……Ito-san, are you looking for something?

A whispering voice hit my ears from behind.

I suddenly looked up and turned to face Akehoshi-kun's eyes. He was smiling gently, but still maintained a look of concern on his face.

Ito: Ah, Akehoshi-kun.

Did you see a black hairpin?

I answered in a hushed voice, so as not to disturb the lively atmosphere of the main hall.

Akehoshi: A guest’s belongings? Or is it Ito-san's property?

Ito: Mao-san lent it to me. When he did my hair earlier...

Akehoshi: Oh! So that was made by Maochi.

I mean, I like your normal hairstyle, but now I can finally see your cute ears.

Ito: (As expected of the ace of the Simulation Dept.... He really just complimented me so casually.)

Akehoshi: Is the pin you dropped the same one you're wearing now?

Ito: Yeah. I noticed that only the right side was missing...

Akehoshi: Then I'll look for it with you.

Ito: Eh…. Sorry, I didn't mean to make you help me.

Akehoshi: That's fine. It's faster to search together than alone, right?

Ito: Thank you, Akehoshi-kun.

Akehoshi: You're welcome. Let's try our best to find it.

Akehoshi: It didn't seem to be in the main hall, but that's where you noticed the pin was missing, right?

Ito: Yeah. But I was walking around the ship before that, so I don't know where I dropped it...

Akehoshi: That means it's still somewhere on the ship. It's almost like we’re on a treasure hunt.

Ito: (Wow. When Akehoshi-kun is involved, he can instantly change it into a positive phrase...!)

Not only was he considerate so as not to make the other person feel uncomfortable…. But he also found amusement at face value in what we’re doing, I really was grateful to him.

Akehoshi: I heard that in these situations, it's good to change your perspective before looking for it.

Ito: Change your perspective...?

Akehoshi: That's right. For example, instead of searching while standing... We could crouch down like this.

Ito: Oh, I see.

I crouched down just like Akehoshi-kun did. Then, a shadow fell from behind us…..

???: Hey. What the hell are you doing, curling up like that? You're in the way.

Part 2

Akehoshi: Ah, Urara-kun. Nice timing! Actually...

Urara: Nah, zip it. Don't drag me into your bullshit.

Akehoshi: That's fine, we’re already in the same boat…. Oops, I just made a pun, didn't I? 

Taking my hand, Akehoshi-kun slowly stood up.

Akehoshi: Have you seen the hairpin somewhere? Ito-san is looking for it.

Urara: If you're going to ask someone about something, that’s not enough.

Manami-san growled and muttered before turning his head to me.

Urara: I told you to hurry up and spit more information. Is there anything else, like color or size?

Ito: (Huh?)

Akehoshi: Ahaha. Urara-kun is a good kid after all.

Urara: Huh? Wanna get your ass beaten?

Ito: Well, it's a black hairpin about 5cm in size. A really simple one without any decoration, nothing special.

Akehoshi: It's the same pin as the one on Ito-san's left side. Look, this one.

Akehoshi-kun pointed to my head.

Urara: ……..

Have you searched the deck yet?

Ito: No, not yet.

Urara: If the hairpin came off, couldn't it have been hit by something or come loose by the wind.

Ito: (...He has a point.)

Akehoshi: Oh, that's very possible. Urara-kun makes a great detective.

Ito: Thank you. I'll go now.

Akehoshi: Yeah. We've got ourselves a reliable ally.

Urara: The hell?

Akehoshi: Eh?

Urara: Don't just add me to your circus without asking.

Akehoshi: But Urara-kun. You asked Ito-san about the characteristics of that pin, right?

I thought that had an implication that you would join our treasure hunt….. No?

Urara: ………

Akehoshi: Plus, there’s a saying two are better than one, and Urara-kun is better than two, right?

Urara: ...Who the fuck said that, dumbass?

Akehoshi: I guess nobody.

Akehoshi-kun smiled as if nothing happened and pushed forward down the hallway. Maybe he didn't want to go back on what he'd already said, Manami-san followed behind him. And I quickly chased after them.

Urara: ……

Manami-san looked down and started to search.

Akehoshi: Urara-kun really is a good kid.

I nodded slightly at Akehoshi-kun's muttering.

Urara: Sheesh. If you have that much attachment to the hairpin, be more careful next time.

Ito: ….Yes.

Akehoshi: Rather than attachment….. Ito-san is looking for it because she borrowed it from Maochi.

Urara: Huh?

…..Is that so? If that’s a premise, then it’s a different story. 

Akehoshi: So Urara-kun thought it was Ito-san’s precious hairpin… That’s why you were looking for it with us?

Urara: Hell no. Don't just interpret as you like…

What I’m saying is… Ukyo wouldn't rip your head off if you told him you lost it.

...tch. You’re wasting time on unproductive stuff.

Manami-san brushed his bangs to the wind, looking like he was having trouble.

Urara: He's one of the more solid guys in Aporia, so unlike some idiots, he will understand you.

Akehoshi: I suppose so, but you would want to look for it properly before saying anything, right?

Urara: Ahh? You're desperate to avoid being disliked, aren't you?

Part 3

Ito: No, that's not...

Urara: Then why are you searching like your life depends on it?

Ito: Even if you ask me why, I just wanted to do it….. I can't put it into words well.

Manami-san tilted his head and let out the usual "Haah?"

Akehoshi: Maybe it’s precisely because he’s Maochi that Ito-san wanted to show her sincerity?

I'm sure he wouldn't get angry, but whether she should take advantage of that and not look for it... That's another story

Ito: (Ah….I think he summed it up really well….)

Akehoshi-kun's words strangely hit me right in the heart. I once again realized that he’s a person who’s really good at empathizing with people's feelings.

Urara: ……………Oh yeah? Then you and Hinomiya can go ahead and do it yourselves.

Ito: Yes. Thank you very much.

Urara: ……..

Manami-san looked like he wanted to say something, but in the end he left without saying a word.

Ito: Thank you for sticking around me, Akehoshi-kun.

Akehoshi: Should we stop now?

Ito: The wind is getting stronger, so I thought I'd call it a day.... I'll look around  bit more first, though.

Akehoshi: Ahaha. In that case, I’ll do the same.

Akehoshi-kun hummed as he resumed his search for the hairpin. The sound mixed with the wind and reached my ears pleasantly.

Ito: …..What song is that?

Akehoshi: Huh?

Ito: Oh, sorry. I heard you humming so I just wondered…

Akehoshi: Ahaha. I didn't even realize I did it. Well, it’s just that I am in a good mood, so I was singing randomly

Ito: (Is he in a good mood?)

Akehoshi: ……………… Maybe I am happy about this. Ito-san's desperate search, and the reason behind it.

He made it sound like it was someone else's problem, and Akehoshi-kun's smile deepened.

Akehoshi: Maochi’s image can go beyond just a cool beauty, he’s often mistaken as a cold-hearted type.

But in reality... I guess you could say he has a big heart? 

Maochi's own logic is very tolerant, he would say something like, "Oh, so that's how you think."

...He really is a nice person.

Ito: Yeah. I totally get it.

I couldn’t say we'd known each other for a long time, but…. Having been close to Mao-san for a certain period of time, he was definitely that kind of person.

Akehoshi: Thank you for trying so hard to find it, Ito-san. Though it might be weird for me to be the one saying thank you…. 

Akehoshi-kun laughed gently, and my cheeks, which had been touched by the cold sea breeze and starting to tightened, began to loosen.

[trulyumai]

Navigating a Circus

Synopsis; Your town was under attack. Quickly storing your map away you tried to get away quickly and quietly. But not before Buggy found you and added you to his box of treasures. What does he want with you, and your hand crafted map?

Pairing: Buggy The Clown x Reader

Warnings: Violence, blood mention.

A/N: Buggy can get it fr.

You remembered the day clearly.

It was unusually warm, the heat danced across your skin in waves which made the skin feel itchy; uncomfortable.

Scratching at your temple a sigh graced your lips, the map in your other hand waved with a pressure as the whispers of a wind came and went with ease.

Suddenly, a loud bell rang out. It shrieked and pierced the ears without warning, leaving you open mouthed and dazed.

“Pirates!” A man had shouted.

“South front! Pirates!”

Hell broke loose, citizens scattered, shoved and pushed their way to the opposite side, avoiding the beach front entirely.

Not being able to avoid it, you were shoved, to and fro while trying your best to stay on both feet.

Wincing you crinkled the map, left in a little square shape before placing it between your lips.

Frowning you were met with a particular hard shove; to which you responded back with an equally violent one.

Finally spotting a break in the crowd, a nearby tree was held onto as you pulled yourself out, scrams and cries were drowned out by the burning in your chest.

Grabbing the map you placed it inside your blouse, just resting between your breasts.

“Jesus,” panting you grabbed the tuffs of your shirt, straightening it out to its original state. It had been crumpled, wrinkled from the many bumps and pulls of desperate strangers.

Hands falling back to their sides, you allowed yourself to fall back onto the foliage beside you.

It was shady, cool and more than welcome in your time of need.

Sliding down the oak, beeds of sweat littered the sides of your hair, your face.

Blinking away black dots your hands acted quickly, carelessly slapping and pinching your cheeks to stay awake.

Growing more and more tired your eyes couldn’t bother to incessantly blink once more, instead they fell lightly, long eyelashes rested and laid upon your cheeks.

The voices were drowned out now; and were just whispers upon your ears.

“Seriously, where’s the fire? I mean you try to get out, visit a nice town and this is how they treat you?”

Boots collided with solid ground, a brown, tattered coat moved with each dramatic stomp the man let out.

Turning around he met the eyes of his freaks. His crew.

“The usual, boys. And hey! Try not to be so rough this time? Do you know how hard it is to tell a joke to a guy missing a limb?”

Buggy leaned forward.

“I mean I need all the hands I can get!”

Silence ensued, the crew stood merely a foot away with tired frowns upon their faces.

“Seriously. Nothing?”

Buggy rolled his eyes.

“Some crew. Just go. Go!”

Scattering they pushed on, to the building littering the fore front of the beach.

The clown mumbled, letting out strings of curses as he detached his arm in mild boredom.

The pieces fell back together with a smush, and he whistled as he detached yet another limb. His right arm.

Ignoring the screams, a woman began to run past him.

Not before he stuck his leg out, cackling as the lady slammed down onto the dirt floor.

“Hey, gotta be careful, miss!”

She cried in response, fearfully looking up at the man with dirt smudged upon her feature.

“C-Clown, Buggy the Clown!” She wailed, tears sprung down her features.

“Captain,” he spat.

“Captain Buggy- but hey, so close!”

Turning around his crewmate rushed past him, grabbing the woman by the hair before dragging her away. To the tent that lays southward.

Picking his tune back up he picked at his teeth, it seemed the agreeable citizens were all on the way to the early show.

The disagreeable ones lay around the town, bloody and unmoving.

Just as he was about to move; check on the current show, something - someone had caught his eyes.

A girl.

“A woman?”

Confused that someone had survived the raid, he resumed his walk, to the new found survivor.

“Hey now- I see you. Come on out!”

Nothing .

“Playing the quiet game huh?” He chuckled. Allowing himself to get closer the clown detached his palm, making sure it grabbed the knife stowed in his leather boot.

Now armed he pressed on, and couldn’t help but abrubtly stop, just beside the woman.

Her head was tilted down; with her chin laying upon her collarbones.

She was pretty, prettier than the usual slags he met up with from time to time.

Even the dancers and ladies of the night scattered across taverns weren’t as cute as her.

Her hair was messy, it laid in tuffs beside her soft face.

And speaking of which, features like that were hard to come by.

Scarless face, freckles littering the nose, soft lips and- Buggy had to crack his neck to distract himself.

If it wasn’t for Buggy’s keen eye, he would have missed the little treasure she stored. Right between her breasts. Buggy shuddered, his gloves squeaked in protest as they were met with a violent pressure.

“What do we have here?” The clown mumbled, his tongue came out with concentration as he nabbed the paper from the holds of her chest.

Eyeing the girl he pushed open the crinkled corners, and choked on his spit as the page came unraveled.

“No- no way, Ha!”

He laughed.

It was loud, wet and buggy didn’t care if he woke her.

His luck, it seemed, was on top of it today.

His gloved hands held the paper with force as he bellowed over, catching the attention of his cabin boy.

“S-sir?”

He called out.

“You okay?”

Tears wet the bottom of his lashes and he brushed them away swiftly.

“All good. All good!”

Turning quickly his piercing eyes met with the man.

“Well? Back to it!”

The boy lurched forward, stuttered out another agreeing response before moving back to the houses.

Buggy craned his neck back to the girl, smiled as his hand met with the side of her face.

“Let’s get this show on the road, huh sweetheart?”

Picking her up he retraced his steps, fused himself past the burning buildings and falling ash.

“Afterall, I just found a perfect addition to my crew, a little navigator at that!”

The girl bobbed in his arms, her head met with the expansion of his chest.

The tent came into Buggy’s vision and he sighed.

So much work to do, so little time. His freaks still needed there lessons.

At least he had this new little navigator to keep him company.

[ulteri0rm0tives]

More questions for you if ur down!! I’m super interested in all your thoughts on these two hehe. 4, 6, 10, and 38 for eurov >:3

giggles :)c im so glad you're enjoying these <3 hope it's as much as I enjoy typing these up UGH ITS SO FUN makes me remember how much I love fandom <3

Answers below because I'm basically writing micro fanfictions here minus all the structure or coherency or grammar of one, like I put this in a doc? Near 2k words LIKE GIRL 💀 shutting up is NOT my specialty

°•°•°•°•°•°•°

4. What acts do the couple do for the other that they absolutely adore? (ex: A knows B hates peeling oranges so A does it)

Honestly. I'm actually so surprised that the scene in Caliente, with Kerry being as mega ultra famous as he is, he was not recognized or rushed for pictures or autographs at all. Especially because during the US Cracks mess, he did pull up in inconspicuous clothing. And yeah, that could be for the fact he didn't want people seeing Kerry Eurodyne pulling up and whipping out a gun on people and the headlines that would make 💀 but also?? It's just kind of a common rule of thumb for celebs to follow? so?? Dunno. That or at least having witnessed one psychofan interaction with him like we did with Blue Moon. 

So in relation to that- I think Kerry really appreciates that when they are out, just trying to mind their business, despite Kerry's best efforts to be in his normie disguise, that V is very willing to deal with the paps or fans for him. That god forbid they try to enjoy a meal at some greasy fast food chain like a normal couple without someone practically smacking the burger out of Kerry's hand for a pic.

That he'll block their view of Kerry, obstruct cameras, that he is willing and totally down to punch one of them at a moment's notice or smash their camera to bits if need be (guard dog V my beloved<3) ((Kerry would do it himself, and sure, any publicity is the best publicity, but I think he's learned his lesson before with this and it's just not worth the media circus attached to his name))

That for V, if he comes back all banged up and bruised and scraped, Kerry's there to patch him up. I think Kerry's got a lot of practice in that department for A) bar brawls or situations you know him and Johnny were getting themselves into back in the day, even just fights with each other, but also B) in the later years, when Johnny turns to merc adjacent (?) gigs with Rogue (trying to prove he's the thing he preaches about), it kinda reminds him a lot of that.

V dragging himself to his stoop, cut up and bloody, looking for a certain comfort and care from Kerry there. And Kerry's willing to give it.

(first aid kit a mess on the counter just absolutely dug through, V sitting on the bathroom counter looking up at Kerry and smiling as he applies the final piece of medical tape, and Kerry giving him a little kiss on his forehead or a pat on his cheek like ‘there :) all patched up for the next time you wanna get your ass kicked <3’) 

Alternatively, if we're looking for more sappy things here. Kerry is definitely someone who loves to be dotted on too, can't convince me otherwise. I also think it's the little things V does for him. Brewing coffee for him in the mornings to nurse both their hangovers, sweet or crude or stupid little notes or drawings he leaves if he's gotta leave before Kerry's up, Kerry leaving his phone somewhere V knows his ass is later going to forget where he put it (adhd moment) and putting it out on the coffee table in plain view for him or just handing it to him like ‘here :) found this for you’ punctuated with a little kiss :) 

6. How did they become official? 

I don't think they make it official official until after the engram sitch. Like Ignoring the ‘spend a year with a rocker’ text, more as like cutesy flirting for the sake of narrative progression 💀 I think Kerry was a bit flighty in that regard (based off the FACT HE DITCHES V DURING THE NOMAD ENDING AND BREAKS UP WITH HIM BEFORE THEY CAN SPEND V’S FINAL MOMENTS ALIVE TOGETHER (WHICH I'M STILL NOT OVER) 😭😭). 

They're not really sure where this is heading, what's going to happen to V, if it's going to quite work out, but they're fine pretending at the moment. I don't think it's until post-game that they have a serious sit down talk about it. And even then, V probably reveals during that talk (that's in person btw, V is a gentleman, not gonna just drop a bomb like this through the mouth of his ai avatar on a holocall like some emotionless deepfake freak) that he's still dying from the long term damages of the relic. 

Kerry's go to method of dealing with grief is kinda this- passive anger? He's not sure how he feels at first. “What do you mean you're dying? Thought this whole fucking run around was meant to fix that’, and I think he takes some time to have to digest it. V can't really be mad, either, he still hasn't really processed it himself and he knows this is a lot to just throw on Kerry's lap. 

Eventually Kerry’ll come around, V waiting for him to be the one to reach out. Kerry's a little more resigned to the fact of V's condition when he realizes- this doesn't change how much V means to him. V was this anchor in a very rocky, transitional period of his life. Vital to it, even, the changes he went through. V’s actually really good for him, likes who he is and who he becomes when V's around, and he doesn't wanna give that up. 

So Kerry calls up V, and they meet and they talk and there might not be tears (maybe) but they're both putting on a brave face as they come together and agree they wanna see where this goes, that they'll be there for each other to the best of their abilities. Grief and all. That it's worth it to them. That they'll figure it out when and if that's a bridge for them to cross

10. What is an incredibly heartwarming moment between the two?

I'm cursed to always view things with a layer of melancholy painted over it. While sappy things can 100% be heartwarming, there's a special brand of warmth I especially love and I feel in things layered in a sadness that characters do their best to help the other (or each other) through. 

Like I personally find it heartwarming to think about how Kerry might care for V post game, primarily going off the sun ending. I know they didn't really showcase it in that final scene, the emotional/physical effects left over by Johnny/the relic like the devil ending had, but I do think it's something V would need to grieve thru a lot more than a quick conversation.

And I find it heartwarming to think Kerry sees this, recognizes this, and thinks this is one thing he can give back to V after V gave Kerry back his own drive for life. That Kerry's been through this rodeo before and he knows just how much support can be needed after such a loss, after the impact he personally knows Johnny can have on people's lives.

Everything about V to me, even in other relationships, will always be entrenched in silverv. Not for the romantic aspects either, but for this alterous love that is so deep and a connection so grand no other human can really understand it. And I want to believe Kerry recognizes that even if he's lost Johnny before, this time, for V, it's different.

V's dealing with a grief that's quite literally never existed like this before. That, yes, they both might have a Johnny shaped hole in their heart, where Kerry's had been torn out of him, a hole slowly healing and filled in by time and a full life, but V's is hollowed out of him, left bloodied, still so raw and new. 

Idk. Maybe this is me just not wanting to believe Kerry is like- not this mainly emotionally selfish person? That yeah, he might be, but I don't think it makes him incapable of thinking about others feelings. That V wasn't just emotional and creative booster for him, or at least he's not anymore. That for all his impulsivity, this is the one thing he's willing to be patient for for V. 

So days that V is a little more down and grey, whether it's because of Johnny or the grief of his health that hangs over his head or his health just acting up in general (I see V as chronically ill post game no matter if he's still dying or not), Kerry's there to meet him with understanding. Maybe play him music to comfort him or just hold him or help accommodate for his migraines or give him space that day if that's what he needs, while still letting V know he's never far if he needs him. 

There's also the obvious songs as gifts written for V which would definitely be heartwarming. About their love, about his strength, just about him. And Kerry actually being able to answer questions about the songs in interviews, like if he had a particular person in mind when he wrote them, where he can proudly say his output direct to the camera. (Compare this to his notes on his wiki for his song he's work shopping on his laptop called Vision of Your Memories (which is so about Johnny) and it might help show where I'm coming from) 

38. What is something they admire about the other?

Vs hunger for life. To WANT to live, to constantly be living. Just the fact that for a dying man, maybe it's the self preservation, maybe it's the survival instinct, but V just radiates life. He's driven and determined and motivated to do what he has to survive. His perseverance. Picking himself up when he's knocked down, always hitting the ground running. His strength, his endurance. His persistence.

V admires the emotional depth of Kerry. That he might have a penchant for melodramatics as seen in exhibit A for Arson, but also his lyrics. I think V admires Kerry's someone who can feel deeply, recognizes it even. That Kerry IS a romantic, whether that wants to be believed or not. That once you get past the several layers of that carefully crafted and curated wild card of a gun swinging, drug addled, chaos junkie rockstar image, Kerry's low-key a fucking millennial dork that's sends emoticons like  :* :D :P (I literally cannot imagine him sending those to Johnny 😭 or if he did pre ‘23 he's getting fucking flamed, so I like to think it's a side of him many don't get to see) 

That Kerry can be this ball of energy and life and passion. I also think his talent is something V would admire, especially since we know Kerry's writing at least one love rock ballad about V using emo ass metaphors like ghosts that were once shadows filling the space of a home that he found comfort and life in.