#I love the score and the animation and the voice acting

[starrbar]

Thanks for the tag x3 Sorry it took me so long to get to it haha. I'll highlight characters in red if I had a lot to say about multiples in one answer.

Favorite girl: I think I'd say Jinx because I love her character. All her scenes in S1 are compelling and tense, and I found her to be thoroughly tragic by the end. She's the thread that holds everything else together and it's beautiful. Also Ambessa and Sevika are both super hot and I always look forward to seeing them.

Favorite boy: I like boys. O_O My favorites are Silco, Singed, and Viktor. Silco is one of my favorite villain characters, very layered and complex, and I was genuinely intrigued and excited as I learned more of his story in S1. I'm also totally guilty of mega-simping for him in S2 despite how my opinions of the story would later sour. Singed honestly just has a fantastic voice and animation that hits me the same way Rango's animation does, where "ugly" characters are treated with such care that they're a treat to watch anyway. He's so stimulating aaaa. Finally, Viktor's arc in S1 is one of my favorites, handled patiently and expertly, and his arc in S2 has quite a few problems, but I still... really enjoy seeing him, and seeing him with Jayce, so I don't tend to be bothered by how S2 handled Viktor.

Least favorite character: You know what? I was so close to posting this with "S2 Caitlyn" because she's a nasty person who never gets to have a proper arc in any direction, but I think a more fitting answer would be S2 Vi. Caitlyn being an awful person in some scenes was still interesting and believable, if a bit rushed, and I would have been fine with her character going that path had it been executed a bit better. Vi, though, is just... turned into a sad lapdog who doesn't act on her own at any point and is just depressing to watch, even in her "happy" moments. God damn, they destroyed her this season. ><

Favorite ships: Zaundads, Sinco, JayVik, and Jilco. If I elaborated on each, I'd feel like I spent way too much time on this, but they each have dynamics I enjoy for different reasons.

Least favorite ship: S2 Caitvi. They were cute in S1, but S2 made Caitlyn an abusive war criminal and then pretended that didn't need to be properly addressed before Vi just gave herself to her. Blegh.

Favorite side character: Lately, it's Salo because I like em pathetic ahaha~ I've always loved Mylo too, adorable little Junkrat kid. x3c

Favorite songs: Oooooh this is a hard one. x3 Goodbye and What Could Have Been will always hit me so hard and remind me how watching Arcane for the first time felt, and for that, they're extra special. I think Playground still gives me those vibes too. I also adore Guns For Hire, and Dirty Little Animals goes so hard. S2 introduced quite a few songs I love too. Ashes and Blood, Renegade, and Spin the Wheel are favorites. Favorite score songs are: The Bridge, The City of Progress, You're Stronger Than You Think, You Can't Escape the Past, A Story of Opposites, Stubborn to the End, I Can Help Them, The Era of Hextech, Revenge, You're a Jinx, A Bicentennial, The Assailant, Romance, Traitor, She's Back, The Toy Boat, I'm Right Here, Showdown, First Steps, You're Perfect, and I'm far less familiar with S2's score, but I can't stop listening to I Promised You. <3

Favorite episode: S1 episode 3. There are tons of scenes I love throughout the story, but this episode marked one of the greatest experiences I've ever had watching a show.

Least favorite episode: So like... I'm not entirely sure which entire episode is my least favorite, so it might be easier to list "chunks", like all the Mel/Black Rose stuff is a boring waste of time to me, and all the final battle stuff is like... uuuuugh. But I didn't just wanna say s2 episode 9 because I do still like the Jayce and Viktor stuff even if, critically, I don't think most of it makes sense x'D. Those two are legit just a guilty pleasure this season and I'm okay with that.

Favorite duo: Oooooh, mmmm..... I think Jayce and Viktor fit the term "duo" best out of my favorites. My other fave is Jinx and Silco, even though they basically never work together, but their interactions are priceless. <3

Favorite design: Aaaaa so many good ones, ummm... honestly? Powder is one of my favorite characters to watch and her design is adorable and complex (a lot of characters are complex in design, but ye). I really love the mismatched look of a lot of Zaun outfits. Also past Silco is um, I'm locking him in my basement. >u>

Least favorite design: Hm... so... I don't think I've looked at any design and hated it, just felt like a few of them were kinda... not as appealing to me as previous versions. So, I prefer Ambessa's pre-S2A3 designs, and I think it's because she looks too slender in her final look compared to previous ones making her look so big and imposing. I think Jinx's newest design is... overrated and kind of messy to look at. I know she's a messy character, so that would fit, but I dunno, there's something missing or... something. It's also hard not to let my feelings on the story taint my feelings for some of the designs, like Vi and Caitlyn's, which look pretty damn cool actually, but I just always picture that final cuddly scene with them and it makes me feel icky.

Favorite scene: The Guns For Hire sequence ✨

Least favorite scene: The Silco, Vander, and Felicia flashback because it ruins the motivations of Silco and Vander, not just to adopt their kids, but to free Zaun from Piltover's oppressive hold. Felicia is pretty and even has some fun sassiness to her personality, but I want her far away from my boys.

I don't like this ending on a negative, so Imma add one more question myself:

Favorite visual moment: Of course, I can hardly pick less than a dozen, but I'll just list a couple off the top of my head, not counting previously mentioned stuff of course. I love the scene of the mage saving young Jayce and his mother. It's so gorgeous and fluid and the music adds so much too. Gahhhh- I also super love that shot of Silco leaning back while smoking right after he talks to Marcus.

I'm always bad at tagging, so just like, do it if you feel like! 8D

On tiktok there was this arcane trend that was just about stating some basic arcane opinions of yours and I thought it would be fun to do something similar here! You can tag others and make it a tagging game or you can just answer the questions do what you want :)

Favorite girl:

Favorite boy:

Least favorite character:

Favorite ship:

Least favorite ship:

Favorite side character:

Favorite song:

Favorite episode:

Least favorite episode:

Favorite duo:

Favorite design:

Least favorite design:

Favorite scene:

Least favorite scene:

[king-mera]

Rewatching Bambi but I can only do so in short bursts because it makes me cry ;_;

[fushitoru]

worth the wait a nerdjo fic

pairing ⸺ nerd/academic rival/rich boy!gojo x reader

summary ⸺ you abhor your academic rival, satoru gojo. he's a cocky asshole that you fight with constantly for the spot at first place. but when you finally discover what's underneath all those lame sweaters of his with a once in a blue moon visit at the gym (spoiler alert: he's not a scrawny nerd), you'll be fighting your severe attraction to the man who makes your life a bit harder. and maybe fall in love with him, too, in the process.

warnings ⸺ smut, f recieving oral, praise, he makes you beg for it lol, p i v sex, making out, angst if you squint, a lot of fluff, college AU, nerd!gojo, reader gets insecure sometimes and is treated horribly by her discord mod TA/research advisor, typical misogyny/sexism in STEM fields, but gojo defends her!!!, sleeper build gojo with a happy trail because im a slut, the good old pining and yearning i like. art by @/deltapork

a/n thank u to all my beta readers for editing part of this for me :3 happy valentines day!!!

general masterlist

You blink at your paper.

98.

You suppose you should be happy—it’s a graduate level physics class, anyways. For a moment, you stare at the red markings of the TA that graded it, as if willing an error in the one problem you made a mistake on could make it go away. 

2+2=5.

You exhaled sharply, almost fighting back tears. You’d think you could avoid simple arithmetic mistakes, but apparently doing tensor products comes easier than simple addition to you. Shoving your backpack on your chair, you stuff in your laptop and the test haphazardly, not caring that it’s going to get messed and crumpled up in your backpack after your folders and binders jostle around. Fuck that test.

You wouldn’t normally act as if the test had personally wronged you—trust, you were not going to get that heated were it any class. But because of this one class, one person, you knew it was coming. The inevitable.

"Better luck next time." The voice, drenched in smug satisfaction, slithered through the air behind you, his voice and demeanor like a slimy, slimy snake. 

Your jaw tightened, but you forced yourself to remain calm as you turned around. And there he was—Gojo Satoru, the bane of your existence, a plague upon your academic record, a walking, talking statistical anomaly who somehow managed to be both infuriatingly brilliant and aggressively insufferable.

He leaned against the desk beside yours, glasses sliding down just enough to reveal the glint of those ridiculously blue eyes. He crosses his arms while they’re covered in that ridiculous, ugly sweater he’s wearing—he’s probably going for the old money aesthetic, but he doesn’t need to know he gives off more “finance bro that helps billionaires evade taxes,” or whatever finance bros do.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” you sniff, pretending to act nonchalant while you grab your backpack, swinging it roughly on your shoulder like it was the weight of your grievances against him.

"The test." Gojo unfolded a crisp sheet of paper with the kind of theatrical flourish reserved for revealing royal decrees. A perfect 100, circled in bold red ink.

Your stomach twisted. This is what those two points meant. Two stupid, meaningless, soul-crushing, rage-inducing points.

"Guess that makes it… what, five to three this semester?" He tapped his chin, pretending to count, as if the score wasn’t already seared into your brain like an irreversible branding. "My lead, obviously. But hey, if you ever need tutoring, I could always squeeze you in."

You bite the inside of your cheek in frustration. “I wouldn’t want to impose on the time for any of your hobbies. After all, when will you get the time to watch anime? My 5000 Year Old Girlfriend is Stuck in a Twelve Year Old’s Body, was it?”

He presses a hand to his chest in mock hurt, as if your words had truly pierced him through his chest. “Tut, tut. After all this time, I’d think you’d have my anime preferences memorized since you’re so obsessed with me. It’s Digimon, not whatever pedophilic shit you think I jerk off too.” He pauses, and then his voice drops into a conspiratorial whisper. “But you know Fred, the grad student TA that holds recitation every Wednesday? I just know he’s probably a Discord mod of a server that sends, like, daily tentacle porn. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s on the Megan's law registry either.”

Now, you have to hold back your smile because Gojo has a point. Fred is not just any TA. Fred is the grad student that mentors you on a research project; the program’s super selective, so when you realized you got him, you couldn’t just back out and give up the opportunity. However, Fred isn’t just a weird–-he’s sooo handsy with his greasy ass hands, so you accept any and all Fred slander. Because he’s your research advisor, you can’t wait to finish the project any faster. He probably would be into underage girls, but you don’t need to express your approval to Gojo, or worst of all, let him think he’s funny. God knows that would get into his head. “Yea, yea. Whatever. Anyways, I hope you have fun with your Pokemon—”

“Digimon.”

“—or whatever. I’m leaving. Some of us have things to do. Later, Gojo.”

You turned on your heel, lest Gojo hook you in with another taunt. 

Maybe you needed to blow off some steam, if you’re allowing yourself to lose to Gojo. 

Worst of all, it’s become a streak, like two times in a row—one on this quiz, and the other on the midterm a few weeks back. Your mind goes back to the last women in STEM recruiting event you had went to, and, how, in the middle of taking a bite of the delicious margherita pizza they offered, you registered that the woman in the panel had insisted that what helped her power through her PhD and dickwad supervisors was by exercising. Her fervor over pilates could almost qualify as a cult pitch, but it made you pause at the moment. Before you continued to further engorge yourself on the food offered on the charcuterie board. 

But maybe it was time to hone your focus in, and some sweaty endorphins might help you get just that. 

You’re not really surprised the demographic at your university’s gym looks like the way it does. After all, not only was it renowned for its academics (from all the nepo babies like Gojo whose families donated buildings and had like four generations of alumnus), but it was also a Division I school. So not only was the gym packed but it was packed with men.

As you walked in the hallway towards the room that contained weight machines, gym bag slung over your shoulder, you eyed the glistening backs of the (D1, mind you) men’s swim team through the glass that separated your path and the swimming pool. 

Wow, those Speedos really hugged their asses. You imagined Gojo in one, and almost snorted. Rich boy nerd Satoru definitely didn’t  learn how to swim; his family’s mansion probably had a twenty year old personal lifeguard that Gojo lost his virginity to, or something. Regardless, he would squint in his silly swim goggles, the exact antithesis of sex appeal while his glow-in-the-dark eyes lit up the pool while he stroked, cheeks puffed like a pufferfish.

Regardless, the smell of testosterone that hits you when you enter the weight area is almost nauseating, and, if you’re honest, a little intimidating. You’re not exactly the fittest of people, so you quickly speed walk past the grunting and sweaty men at the squat machines and barbells, avoiding eye contact and praying furiously that none of them perceive you.

 When you reach the dumbbell stands, you hunch over, taking random light weights. Then, you pretend you know what you’re doing while jumping every so slightly whenever anyone comes in six foot distance of you. It’s only when another girl comes in to grab a weight (and when she bends over, you definitely ogle her ass in a way that would get you slapped if you were a man) that your gaze removes itself from where it was focused on the 2.5 lb dumbbell you were previously bicep curling with. To see him.

The glint of ivory hair is unmistakable—you’ve basically gotten off to the fantasy of razoring it off in his sleep. His blue eyes are bored, pretty boy face framed in glasses. Now, he’s giving teenage boy turned to Andrew Tate after a breakup. Black sweatshirt and sweatpants that are too small, because they cling to his legs in a form-defining way. He’s walking over, hands in his pockets, to a barbell station. Slaps some guys on the shoulder as he goes through, gets a lot of daps. 

Which is weird to you, because you only the Gojo inside your physics class, not outside. He’s a fucking nerd—a loser that spends his time beefing with you, so why is he so popular when he gives you the time of day?

There are three dimensions to gaining alpha status, or whatever they call male popularity. You have to be 1) rich, 2) really physically fit, or 3) just really charismatic. Considering that Gojo—in all his clothing—-looks like a twink moreso than ripped gym bro, it’s definitely not dimension two. So you conclude that it’s because he’s rich and probably throws yacht parties so these ripped guys don’t push him into a locker, or something.

When he finally reaches his destination, you smirk to yourself. With that scrawny build underneath all those loose sweaters, you know he’s only going to be able to lift the bar, no plates. After all, he was warming up. insulting Gojo in countless of ways by taking jabs at his physique mentally, so you barely register that he’s grabbing for the hem of his sweatshirt, peeling it up—

To reveal his bare torso.

Your first thought: Wow, he has huge bazonkas.

That has easily got to be one of the most built physiques you’ve seen at your college so far. His pectorals basically pop out out of his torso as he moves to grab plates. First, he grabs a really big plate—you’re not a gym expert, so you wouldn’t know the weight—and stacks it. And stacks another. And another. And another, until you’re sure it’s definitely more than your bodyweight.

As you’re staring at him in awe, your 2.5 lb dumbbells hang limply by your sides, abandoning all pretense of training to openly gawk at the clench of his biceps, the sweat rolling down his temple, and the set of his jaw as he stares holes into the bar. And by the way there’s heat creeping up your cheeks you realize one thing:

You’re screwed.

“You know what?”

You keep your eyes on your notes firmly, refusing to look at Gojo sitting right next to you. You don’t know why he always chooses to sit next to you on recitation, really—it’s not like you’re receptive to his company. After all, he could be doing other things—like metaphorically sucking a TA’s dick by talking about their research, where Gojo probably knows more about the TA’s research than they do themselves. 

From your periphery, you notice Gojo pouting, then scooting his chair (dragging it, so it makes a god awful screeching noise against the floor tiles that has you cringing) until he’s so close that he slings an arm on the back of your chair and leans in closer and closer. You’re fighting to keep your eyes on your notes, face heating up traitorously until you feel his breath fan across your neck because he’s just so close.

“Rude, ignoring me. Look where that got you.” He then points to a problem on your paper, one you were currently working on. “You’re doing that wrong.”

You finally turn to glare at him, but he’s closer than you anticipated, his face just inches from yours. His grin is all sharp edges and knowing amusement, and it makes your stomach flip in a way you refuse to acknowledge.

“I’m not doing it wrong,” you argue, despite the creeping suspicion that, okay, maybe you did mess up somewhere.

“Oh, really?” Gojo drawls, tilting his head slightly. “Then why is your integral off by a factor of two?”

Your eyes snap back to your notes, scanning through the equations—and, dammit, he’s right.

You huff, begrudgingly erasing the mistake. “Whatever.”

“You know, you should really be thanking me,” Gojo muses, still leaning way too close for comfort. “If I weren’t here, who knows how many mistakes you’d make?”

“She’d have me,” comes a greasy voice, and you have to fight the tears in your eyes that arise when Fred (the aforementioned pedophilic TA and your research advisor) comes, his moldy cheese stench following him as he takes a seat from across you and Gojo. You grudgingly turn your face away from where it was so close to Gojo’s to look at him and sigh inwardly. At least Gojo’s face was prettier to look at.

“Hi, Fred,” you smile tightly, willing him to go away. “We’re good here, so you can help out other students—”

“How was your weekend?” He instead replies, and you wince. Stealing a quick glance at Gojo, it seems that his jaw and posture are uncharacteristically tense. 

“Lot of work for the class and for, uh, our research,” you respond, nodding and averting your gaze to your paper and feigning working on a problem so that he would get the hint.

Fred, unfortunately, does not get the hint. Instead, he leans forward, elbows on the table, eyes too focused on you. “You really ought to take breaks, you know. You can give me the code late. Someone as cute as you shouldn’t stress so much. You’ll get wrinkles.”

Your fingers tighten around your pencil, your skin crawling at the way his tone veers into something too familiar, too patronizing. You open your mouth to give a clipped response, but Gojo beats you to it.

“Oh? Didn’t know you were an expert on skincare, Fred,” Gojo drawls, his voice deceptively light. His arm, which was still resting on the back of your chair, shifts just slightly—not quite pulling you in, but making his presence more noticeable. “Though, if we’re giving out advice, maybe you should take your own. I mean, stress must be rough on you too, right? All those late nights grading papers, staring at screens. Takes a toll.”

Fred bristles, but Gojo just smiles lazily, pushing up his glasses as he tilts his head. “Actually, you know what? Maybe we should all focus on our own business. Like, say, teaching, instead of weirdly hovering over students. Crazy thought, huh?”

You swear you see the muscle in Fred’s jaw twitch, but he forces out an awkward chuckle, shifting uncomfortably. “Right, right. Just looking out for her.”

“Don’t worry,” Gojo interrupts smoothly, now fully leaning into your space, his arm draping a little lower behind your chair, “I think she’s got plenty of people looking out for her already.” His voice is soft, but there’s an undeniable edge beneath the words.

Fred lingers for a second too long, but finally, he mutters something about helping another student and stands, walking off with an air of forced nonchalance.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, slumping slightly in your seat. Gojo hums beside you, his fingers tapping idly against the back of your chair.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” he teases, but there’s something in his tone that’s softer than usual. He then makes a show of stretching, raising his arms. His sweater rides up a bit, exposing his lower abs and peeks of white that has you averting your gaze, the heat creeping up at his proximity once again. Then, his arm back on your chair. Weirdly, you find that you don’t mind it.

You sigh, resigned. You’ll figure out these feelings later. “Yeah. Thanks, Gojo.”

But you don’t immediately go back to your work, because Gojo suddenly hunches down and whispers in your ear. “Yea, I definitely saw an underage anime girl sticker on his laptop.”

Your responding snort is so loud everyone turns to look at you and Gojo, who is now sporting a mischievous and satisfied smile.

It starts with a single drop, fat and cold where it splats against your wrist. You glance up from your phone just in time to see the sky split open.

“Shit,” you mutter, stuffing your phone into your bag. The library doors shut behind you with a heavy clang, sealing away the scent of old books and the quiet hum of studying students. Outside, the air is thick with the petrichor of freshly fallen rain, and within seconds, the pavement is slick, puddles forming in the uneven cracks of the sidewalk. The streetlights reflect off the wet ground, casting fragmented golden glows against the darkening sky. You’d been studying to grind for the upcoming assignments; after all, to rival Gojo is a no small feat. It’s just unfortunate it seems to take you thousand times more effort than it does for Gojo.

“Guess we’re stuck together, huh?”

You don’t have to turn to know who it is.

Satoru Gojo, standing beside you under the library’s narrow overhang, wearing that insufferable grin like he’s amused by the entire situation. Like the rain personally fell from the sky just to give him an opportunity to bother you.

“I’ll take my chances,” you say flatly, shifting your bag on your shoulder. But as you peer past the downpour, your stomach sinks. The rain is merciless, an unrelenting sheet of water stretching as far as you can see. There’s no way you’re making it back to your dorm without looking like you took a fully clothed shower.

Gojo hums, pulling something out of his bag. You blink when he flicks open a half-broken umbrella, the metal ribs slightly bent like it’s barely holding itself together. He gives it a little shake, sending droplets flying, before glancing at you with a smirk.

“Well?” He lifts a brow. “Wanna be smart about this?”

You do not want to be smart about this. You want to wait out the rain or make a break for it. But the storm shows no signs of letting up, and the thought of walking through it alone makes you hesitate.

Reluctantly, you sigh. “Fine. But I get most of the cover.”

“Hey, sharing is caring.” He tilts the umbrella slightly, just enough to make a point.

With great reluctance, you step closer. The moment you do, you regret it.

Gojo is warm. Even in the damp, chilled air, he radiates heat, standing so close that his sleeve brushes against yours. He smells good, too—like expensive laundry detergent with a faint undercurrent of something sweet, something distinctly him.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to stare straight ahead as the two of you start walking. The rain pounds against the umbrella, droplets cascading off the edges, and with every step, you’re hyper-aware of the way Gojo moves beside you—loose-limbed, annoyingly graceful, a stark contrast to the crooked metal above your heads.

“Man, this thing’s on its last leg,” he muses, tilting the umbrella just slightly. Water dribbles off the side, landing directly onto your shoulder.

“Gojo!” you yelp, recoiling as the cold soaks through your shirt.

“Oops.” He does not sound remotely sorry.

You glare at him, but before you can snap back, he shrugs off his jacket and—without preamble—drapes it over you.

You freeze.

It’s warm, still carrying the heat of his body, and it smells so much like him—clean, sweet, dizzyingly familiar. Your brain short-circuits.

You force yourself to breathe, keeping your gaze firmly ahead. “You didn’t have to do that,” you say, voice tight.

“I wanted to.”

Something in his tone makes your stomach flip. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, and—

Damn him. Damn him.

Water drips from his bangs, clinging to the sharp edges of his jawline, sliding down the curve of his throat. His shirt sticks to his skin, fabric clinging in a way that reveals the toned lines of his arms, the broad plane of his chest. He’s watching the rain, the usual teasing glint in his eyes softened into something contemplative.

You swear your eggs just recently got released, for you cannot help but avoid your ever going attraction to Satoru Gojo except the age-old excuse: ovulation. Your mind wanders to how his arms would feel around your head, to lay on his chest, how he’d be able to manhandle you, force you to take it—

But you’re snapped out of your inappropriate thoughts by what he says next.

“You know,” he says, voice quieter now, “I like this. Just us, no grades, no competing.”

You pause.

He says it so simply, so easily, like it’s nothing at all. But the words settle deep, curling somewhere warm inside you, and you don’t know what to do with them.

So you do what you do best: you shove them away, bury them beneath years of rivalry, of late-night study sessions fueled by caffeine and stubbornness, of sharp words and sharper glances.

You roll your eyes, forcing a scoff. “Don’t get used to it.”

But even as you say it, your fingers curl into the fabric of his jacket, holding it a little tighter.

It’s been a week since you saw Gojo. He had dropped you at your dorm in a surprisingly gentlemanly way, and you had insisted on returning the jacket only after washing it, to be courteous. What you didn’t mention was how you kept repeatedly smelling it in your dorm whenever you got a reprieve from your roommate’s eyes because Gojo smelled like expensive cologne and he did one thing most nerds / physics majors don’t do: shower. This fact, unfortunately, made you more attracted to him because the bar is truly in hell.

You’ve concluded that these…feelings can’t hurt you and that it isn’t real, like a beefy and shirtless Gojo-looking demon that’ll jump and surprise you from under your bed. So you move on your life, caught in the ever perpetual slog of studying and researching. 

Thus, you find yourself at the library once more.

The night hums low around you, quiet except for the occasional shuffle of paper and the distant hum of the library’s espresso machine (only librarians could use it, however. you fervently thought that was a form of elitism, but you digress). You’re at the corner table, the one by the window, where the dim light pools just enough to illuminate your notes but not enough to make you feel like you’re being studied under a microscope. You think you’re alone—until you aren’t.

You don’t have to look up to know it’s him.

Satoru Gojo is hard to miss, even when he’s not trying. He slides into the chair across from you with the kind of ease that makes it seem like he belongs there, like he was always going to end up sitting across from you tonight. His hair is tousled, white strands falling forward in a way that makes him look softer under the warm light. His glasses are perched low on his nose, a rare sight given that he usually has them pushed up like some kind of pretentious scholar.

The two of you don’t speak.

It’s surprising, really. Gojo never runs out of things to say, whether it’s an obnoxious quip or some unnecessarily insightful observation that makes you want to throw your textbook at his face. But tonight, he just pulls out his own notes, taps his pen against the edge of his lips, and starts reading.

You should focus on your own studying, but something about this—this silence, this late-night haze, this tiny moment carved out of time—makes your mind wander. You steal glances when you think he won’t notice. His brows furrow when he’s concentrating, his jaw tightens when he’s stuck on something, and when he exhales, it’s this slow, measured thing, like he’s trying not to get frustrated. He’s just—

He’s just really there.

You’ve spent years defining Gojo as your rival. Your competition. The person standing in your way at every academic milestone. And yet, somehow, somewhere, he’s slipped into something else, something harder to define. Because you’ve seen him like this before—when he’s so focused that he forgets the world around him, when he bites his lip in thought, when he gets so caught up in something that he mutters under his breath without realizing it. And for the first time, it dawns on you: you don’t actually hate it.

You don’t hate this comfortable silence. This moment of peace, a white flag waving lazily between you both.

The hours blur. The café starts to empty. Your notes turn into background noise. It’s late, and the warmth from inside lulls you into something dangerously close to comfort.

A soft sound breaks through the quiet.

You glance up and freeze.

Gojo’s head has tilted to the side, his glasses slipping slightly down the bridge of his nose. His hand is curled loosely around his pen, and his breathing has evened out. He’s asleep.

For a moment, you don’t move. You barely breathe.

Gojo, asleep, is not something you’ve seen before. He’s always in motion, always buzzing with energy, always running his mouth about something. But right now, he’s still. His long lashes cast faint shadows over his cheekbones, and the tension he always carries—the cocky bravado, the smirking sharpness—is nowhere to be found. He just looks… peaceful.

Cutie.

What?

The thought slips in so quickly, so effortlessly, that it nearly makes you jolt. But when you look at him again—head tilted just slightly, glasses slipping down his nose, breathing slow and even—you can’t deny that the word fits. He looks like a lazy cat napping in a sunbeam, limbs loose, utterly unguarded. It’s so unlike him that you find yourself staring, caught in the contrast.

Your fingers twitch. Before you can stop yourself, you reach forward, slow and hesitant, to push his glasses back up his nose. But you catch yourself just before you touch him, as if the warmth of his skin might burn. Your hand hovers in the air for a fraction of a second too long, and then—

You pull away.

Your heart is pounding. It’s fine. It’s nothing. You just need to get out of here.

You gather your things quietly, glancing back at him one last time before slipping out the door into the cool night air. The moment you step outside, you take a breath, deep and shaking. The world feels different now. You feel different now.

Because for the first time, it isn’t just that you find Gojo attractive.

It’s that you care.

And you don’t know what the hell to do about it.

The gym, once again, smells like sweat and overpriced protein powder.

You don’t know what’s possessed you to come here today. Maybe it’s because you keep telling yourself that you need to exercise more, or maybe it’s because you need to take a break from studying before your brain melts. But deep down, if you’re really being honest with yourself, you know the real reason.

Gojo is here.

You spotted him the first time by accident. You were on the treadmill, barely jogging at a pace that wouldn’t embarrass you, when you caught a flash of white hair across the gym floor. And there he was—dressed in a fitted black sleeveless top and joggers, casually loading plates onto a barbell.

And he wasn’t wearing his glasses.

It was a stupid, inconsequential detail, but it made all the difference. Without them, he didn’t look like the annoying academic rival who constantly got under your skin, flashing his smug grin as he beat you in exams by the smallest possible margins. He looked… sharp. Unfiltered. Effortlessly attractive in a way that made your stomach tighten in ways you didn’t like.

You’d seen him in his regular clothes before, of course. You knew he had broad shoulders and long legs, that his body wasn’t just a lanky frame hidden behind layers of sweaters. But here, in the gym, watching him roll his shoulders as he prepped for another set—it hit differently. He was lean but muscular, his arms flexing as he adjusted his grip on the bar, and for some godforsaken reason, you couldn’t look away.

You shouldn’t be watching him. You should be focusing on your own workout, pretending you don’t care. But the way his shirt clung to his back, the way his forearms tensed, the way he exhaled sharply as he lifted—

You’re so screwed.

You force yourself to look away, grabbing the smallest dumbbells available and curling them in what has to be the weakest excuse for a workout imaginable. You’re barely paying attention to what you’re doing, too busy sneaking glances at Gojo between sets. It’s pathetic, but at least no one else is watching you.

Or so you think.

Because then she appears.

A girl.

Tall, toned, and effortlessly gorgeous, with sleek hair pulled into a high ponytail. She strides over to Gojo with a confidence you could never dream of and smiles at him, saying something that makes him laugh. Her ass is definitely bigger than yours, and she’s in this coordinated, cute, pink set, looking like she walked straight out of a fitness TikTok. You can’t hear what they’re talking about over the sound of weights clanking and some obnoxious EDM song blasting through the speakers, but you can see it. The way she leans in, the way she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, the way Gojo—

—smiles at her. That easy, lazy grin he always wears when he’s teasing you, except this time, it isn’t for you.

Your grip tightens around the dumbbells, something ugly curling in your chest. It gets worse when she gestures toward the squat rack, and Gojo nods before moving behind her, hands hovering just slightly as she sets up for a squat. You watch as he spots her, one hand resting lightly on her lower back, close enough to correct her form but far enough to be polite. He’s focused, watching her movements carefully, murmuring something that makes her laugh before she drops into another rep.

Your stomach twists.

This is stupid. You have no reason to be feeling this way.

It’s then that it hits you—you can have your silly little academic rival moments with Gojo, but, in the end, you’re just a footnote in his story, a fleeting challenge in a life where everything already belongs to him. He quite literally has generational wealth; he’s not going to spend his life buried in grant applications or clawing for recognition in a field that demands twice the effort for half the reward. He’ll be the one funding the research, sitting at the head of the table, making decisions that shape the future. And you? You’ll be one of the many who struggle just to be in the same room.

He’s the guy who spends his vacations on yachts or private islands—not just surrounded by wealth, but by people who belong there. Girls who glide through life with the same effortless ease as him, girls who don’t second-guess if they deserve to be in the spaces they occupy. Girls who don’t have to fight for their place at the table because it was always set for them.

Girls that are his equal—equally attractive, equally smart, equally rich.

Not you.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to look away, but the image is burned into your mind. The easy way he talks to her. The way she tilts her head when she listens. The way he doesn’t even know you’re here.

You shouldn’t care. You shouldn’t care. You shouldn’t care.

But you do.

You grip the dumbbells tighter, exhaling sharply. Then you put them back, pick up your water bottle, and walk out of the gym before you do something stupid.

The office is too small. Too suffocating. Too filled with the weight of unspoken words and the sharp-edged smile of Fred, the TA, as he leans back in his chair and laces his fingers together.

"You know," he begins, voice sickly sweet, "I really expected more from you."

You sit stiffly in the chair across from him, your hands curled into fists in your lap, nails digging crescents into your skin. Your heart pounds, but your face remains carefully neutral. You've been called into his office under the guise of "academic guidance," but you know better. You always know better.

"I don't know what you mean," you say, keeping your voice even.

Fred exhales dramatically, shaking his head. "Come on. You and I both know you're barely keeping up in this project of ours."

You grit your teeth. You're not barely keeping up. You're giving him your work at the highest level, at its best. But Fred—Fred has always had a way of twisting things, making you feel small, insignificant, like your achievements are nothing more than accidents.

“I think my progress speaks for itself,” you respond tightly. Mind you, while he was supposed to be your mentor, you’ve done 80% of the work.

But you think Gojo’s defense of you ran deep into Fred’s heart because by the way he’s sleazily smirking at you, you know he’s trying to get back at you.

He smirks. "Your progress? Sure, you’re smart. But you think that’s enough? You think anyone’s going to care about a girl like you when there are people out there who don’t have to struggle to be exceptional?" He leans forward, voice dropping into something conspiratorial. "You’re wasting your time. The best you can hope for is being someone’s assistant. Maybe a glorified research grunt if you’re lucky. Just like for me."

Your stomach twists. You shouldn’t care. You know you shouldn’t care. But the words burrow deep, hitting a place inside you that already doubts, that already wonders if you’re nothing more than a temporary obstacle in a world built for people like Gojo Satoru—people born brilliant, born wealthy, born effortless.

Fred’s eyes flick over you, assessing, smug. "You’re working yourself to the bone for what? You’ll never be at the top. Not really."

The bitterness of the situation really dawns on you—Gojo’s the one who took a jab at Fred last week, not you. But you’re the one who’s left to deal with its consequences. You’re not going to assign blame and lament that it’s not Gojo in this office dealing with him. It was in your defense, after all. 

But Fred’s words remind you. You’ll never be at the top. At Gojo’s level, who’s at the top without even seeming to put in effort.

You’ll never be his equal.

You stand abruptly, shoving your chair back so hard it scrapes against the floor. "If that’s all, I have work to do."

Fred chuckles, leaning back, clearly pleased with himself. "Sure, sure. Don’t say I never tried to give you advice."

You don’t respond. You just walk out, gripping your bag so tightly your knuckles turn white, the echo of his words following you down the hall, settling in your bones like lead.

The hallway is too bright. Too loud. Too full of people who don’t know that you’re on the verge of crumpling in on yourself like a dying star.

Your breath feels too shallow, too quick, and there’s a weight pressing down on your chest that no amount of rationalizing can shake off. It’s not even your meeting with Fred—just a slow accumulation of stress and exhaustion and frustration that’s settled deep in your bones. A grade lower than expected, an upcoming deadline you’re nowhere near prepared for, a general sense of drowning no matter how hard you try to keep up. It’s all too much, and your hands are starting to shake from how tightly you’re gripping the strap of your bag.

You just need to get out of here. You need air, space, something.

But, of course, the universe has a cruel sense of humor, because when you round the corner, you slam straight into Satoru Gojo.

“Whoa—”

Your balance is already precarious from the way you were rushing, and the impact sends you stumbling. For a split second, you think you might actually fall—your ankle twists awkwardly, the world tilts—and then there’s a strong hand gripping your wrist, another bracing against your back, steadying you before you can hit the ground.

You don’t process what happens immediately. Your mind is still stuck on too much, too fast, can’t breathe, and it takes you a second to realize that Gojo is holding you upright, his hands firm but careful, his expression hovering somewhere between amusement and concern.

“Jeez, what’s the rush?” he teases, but his voice lacks its usual careless lilt. He’s searching your face now, eyes narrowing behind his glasses, and that’s when you realize: you must look as bad as you feel.

Shit.

You jerk away from him, a little too fast, a little too sharp. “I’m fine.”

Gojo doesn’t look convinced. “You sure? Because it kinda seemed like you were about to pass out on the spot.”

“I said I’m fine.” You adjust your bag over your shoulder, shifting your weight onto your other foot, ignoring the faint throb in your ankle. “Go bother someone else.”

Most of the time, that’s enough to send him off with an exaggerated sigh and a smirk. But not today.

Today, Gojo just stands there, watching you like he’s trying to piece something together—like you’re a problem he wants to solve. He doesn’t press, not yet, but the silence stretches, and it’s unbearable, because you can feel the weight of his gaze, and you don’t want to be seen like this. Not by him.

So you give him a tight nod in dismissal, and walk away.

There’s a knock at your door. You frown because you didn’t expect any visitors, and you’re in your sleepwear. Regardless, you pad your way lazily and open the door.

To see Gojo.

What the fuck.

He’s drenched in the glow of the hallway light, looking entirely too at home despite standing on your threshold. His hair is still slightly damp from the rain, white strands falling over his forehead in careless disarray. He’s not wearing his glasses.

"Why are you here?" you demand, gripping the doorframe, willing your voice to stay steady.

He quirks an eyebrow, tilting his head just slightly. “You’re holding my jacket hostage.”

Oh. Right.

You make your way to your wardrobe, where the now-cleaned jacket hangs neatly on a hanger. Grabbing it, you hand it over to Gojo, who’s standing at your threshold while eyeing the insides of your dorm, as if trying to take in what your living space looks like. You shove it into his chest, stepping back like the heat of it burns. "Here."

Gojo takes it, but instead of leaving like a normal person, he lingers, running his fingers over the material like he’s checking for something. Then,, he lifts a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it in that way that only makes his biceps flex, his lean muscles shifting beneath his shirt. You hate that you notice.

A beat passes.

"You know," he muses, far too casually, "you seemed a little disheveled back there."

Your stomach twists. "It's not a big deal—"

"—Bullshit." His voice cuts through yours, sharp and immediate. He shifts, stepping just the tiniest bit closer, his tone losing its usual teasing lilt. “You’re lying. I saw what you looked like. What happened?”

“It's none of your business,” you say, stiffening. “Nor is it a big deal, really.”

Gojo exhales, something heavy in the sound. His eyes don’t leave yours, and for once, they aren’t filled with their usual mirth or mischief. Just something searching, something that makes your chest ache in a way you don’t have the strength to deal with right now.

"You always do that," he says, softer now, but no less intense. “Act like no one’s supposed to care. Like you’re carrying the world alone.”

Your fingers curl into your palms. Your lips press together. You don’t want to hear this. You don’t want to acknowledge the way his words settle too close to the truth.

And then, quietly, Gojo asks, “Do you not consider me your equal?”

You swallow.

Your silence must be enough of an answer because something shifts in his expression. It isn’t anger exactly, but it’s something close—something bitter and disappointed and aching all at once.

"You’re the one who shuts me out, you know." His voice is sharp now, edged with frustration. "You act like I'm the one keeping you at a distance, but every time I try to get close, you push me away."

Your throat tightens. “Why do you even care?”

Gojo lets out a breath, his head tilting just slightly, eyes scanning your face like you’re something he’s trying to figure out. Then he laughs, quiet and humorless.

“You really don’t know?”

“I—” Your voice wavers. “What do you mean—”

“For a girl so smart, you sure do act stupid.” He steps forward then, closing the space between you just enough to make you want to back away, but your feet don’t move. His voice drops lower. "Do you think I talk to you because I give a fuck about physics?"

Your brain short-circuits. “What—”

He groans, dragging a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I give zero fucks about the class or any class, trust me. I have better things to do than to try to aim for 100s on every test."

Your heart is pounding now, too loud, too fast. “Then why—”

"God," he exhales, tipping his head back, like he's debating whether or not he should even say it. Then, after a beat, he looks at you again, and whatever is in his eyes makes your stomach flip, makes your breath hitch.

Something in your chest lurches, but before you can even process it, he huffs a laugh—like he’s just remembered something ridiculous.

"You didn’t even look my way the first week," he says, eyes flicking over your face, searching. "I could tell you only cared about anyone that could challenge you. Like, it wasn’t even until I did better than you on the second midterm that you even talked to me."

You open your mouth, then close it, heat prickling at the back of your neck. Because—yeah. He’s not wrong. You had ignored him, dismissed him as just another overconfident rich kid who thought he was smarter than he was. It wasn’t until he proved himself, until he became a real obstacle in your path, that you bothered to acknowledge him.

Gojo smiles, but it’s not cocky this time—it’s small, almost rueful. "And then you looked at me like I was finally real. Like I existed."

Your breath hitches.

He shrugs, eyes dropping for a brief second before snapping back up to yours. "So, yeah. Maybe I started trying harder. Maybe I cared about all those stupid tests because it meant I got to see that fire in your eyes, that I got to be the one you were pushing against." He rubs the back of his neck, his biceps flexing in a way that would usually annoy you, but right now, you’re too busy trying to remember how to breathe.

Gojo stares at you for a long moment, gaze unwavering, like he’s daring you to say something—anything.

Your chest feels too tight, your pulse erratic, and you don’t know what to do with the way Gojo is looking at you—like you’re something precious, something worth holding onto.

But he’s wrong. He has to be wrong.

“You can’t like me,” you whisper.

Gojo frowns, expression shifting. “What?”

Your throat clenches, and before you can stop it, heat pricks at your eyes, blurring your vision. “You can’t like me,” you say again, voice cracking. “I can’t even match you.”

Gojo's face slackens, his teasing demeanor completely gone.

"You do everything so effortlessly," you force out, your fists clenching at your sides. "It’s so infuriating." A shaky breath escapes you, and you shake your head, looking down. “So why would you even want this? You make me feel this way, and I—I hate you for it.”

For a second, there’s only silence.

Then, Gojo exhales softly.

“Is that what you think?” His voice is so gentle it makes something inside you ache.

You don’t answer. You can’t.

Gojo shifts, stepping forward slowly, carefully, like you’re something fragile. And then—then he reaches out, his fingers ghosting along your wrist before curling around it, grounding you. “It’s not effortless,” he murmurs. “I try so hard. You just don’t see it because I don’t want you to.”

"You really don’t get it, do you?" His voice is quieter now, something dangerously close to vulnerable. His fingers twitch at his sides. "I care because it’s you."

You shake your head, still not understanding, still unable to believe it.

Gojo watches you for a moment, then exhales, running a hand through his hair. “You act like I just woke up one day and decided to like you.” He huffs a quiet laugh, but there’s no real amusement in it. “Do you know how long I’ve been stuck on you? How infuriating it was, realizing that no matter how much attention I got, the only person I wanted it from was too busy treating me like an obstacle?”

Your breath catches.

“I tried everything,” he continues, voice rougher now. “Teasing you, annoying you, beating you in tests, losing to you in tests. It didn’t matter what I did, because you—” He breaks off, shaking his head. “You only saw me when I gave you a reason to compete.”

Your fingers tremble slightly at your sides. You don’t know what to say, don’t even know what you can say.

And suddenly, everything—the teasing, the constant pestering, the way he always had to be around you—it all clicks into place.

Your heart hammers in your chest, and before you can second-guess it, before you can even think, you surge forward and kiss him.

It’s a mess of a kiss—too rushed, too desperate, all clashing teeth and uneven breaths—but Gojo groans softly against your lips, like he’s been waiting for this. His hands are on you immediately, one slipping around your waist, the other cradling the back of your head as he presses you flush against him.

You’re dizzy. Overwhelmed. But it’s good. It’s him, and you don’t want to stop.

When you finally pull away, breathless and unsteady, Gojo is grinning, his lips slightly swollen.

“Worth the wait,” he murmurs, eyes shining.

You avert your gaze, fully blushing now. “But I—” You take a look at him, then hide your face in your hands. “I’m a stalker.”

“Maybe I’m into that.”

“No,” you bemoan. “I’ve stalked you at the gym, and I—” Your voice drops into a shameful whisper. “You were good. Like, stupidly good. Like, making everyone stare at you good.”

His lips twitch. “You were staring too, huh?”

You glare at him, but he just grins, all teeth, clearly eating this up.

“I hated it,” you insist, heat prickling at the back of your neck. “I hated that you’re already smarter than me, that you already have all these advantages, and then—and then you also have that? Like, it’s just unfair. You’re unfair.”

Gojo is silent for a second, and you think you’ve screwed up, but then exhales a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “You are so cute.”

“Stop it!” you whine, but you don’t protest when he pulls you closer and locks your lips with his another time. You clutch the front of his shirt, drag your hands on his chest, his arms, everywhere. Then, you guide his to firmly clutch your ass, to which he freezes.

“We can stop here. We don’t have to do anymore than this, and—”

But you interrupt him, slamming your lips against his once more. Grabbing him by the shoulder you pull him into your room and slam the door behind you, pushing him against the door. “Fuck no.”

He laughs breathlessly, then continues to switch your position, now you against the door. “Thank god. Now, jump.”

You do, and you almost moan at how easily he grabs you in his arms, your legs straddling him. It’s like you weigh nothing to him as he carries you over to your bed and manhandles you into it, following not long after.

When he gets on top of you, he maintains eye contact as he pulls your shirt over your head, trailing kisses down to your neck, the valley of your breasts (but not before giving each of the girls their own tender kiss), and your stomach. With his eyes boring into you, he slowly, teasingly drags the pants you were wearing down your legs until you’re just in your panties.

You let out a noise, and he coos. “I know, I know, baby.” He gives you a gentle kiss on the top of your mound, and you clench, squirming from the contact. “Let me take my time, though.”

He gently, but firmly, lays a hand on your hip as he starts licking the crotch of your panties. It’s truly maddening—the sensation is there, but you oh so wish his skilled tongue was meeting your skin, bare and electric.

He’s taking his time laving, ravishing your taste, but you’ve had enough. “Gojo, please,” you sob, throwing your head back and grinding further into his tongue, which he welcomes. “Stop teasing.”

“Mmmm,” he pretends to think, all while focused and looking only at your crotch, now rubbing your clit in small, miniscule circles. “I can, but,” and now he’s just mocking you, with the way he adopts a babying tone, “I think you’re going to have to beg for it.”

You groan in frustration as a response, but he only clicks his tongue as his fingers reach and finally rid you of your panties. He spreads your folds with two fingers, his face oh so close to your bare pussy. But instead of finally giving you what you want,  he clicks his tongue, pouting as if you’re the one forcing him to be a bastard. “Yea, I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to earn it.”

Before you can respond, he holds out his tongue and inches his face even closer to your bare folds until you can feel his warm breath over it. “You just have to say please.” Then, he ahhh-s, as if holding his tongue out to a doctor and says, “Look I’m so close—ahhh.”

You can only plead with him. “Please, Gojo.”

“No, it’s Satoru to you now, baby.”

“Satoru, please eat me out.”

He smiles. “Yeaa, that’s my girl.” And proceeds to eat you out in a way that has your toes curling.

He acts like a man eating his last meal on death row. It’s the masterful combination of laving over your folds, kissing your clit, and groaning and making noises that has you inching closer and closer to your orgasm. When you tell him, you’re close, he does exactly what he’s supposed to do—keep doing what he’s doing, same spot, same tempo, same pressure.

With a cry of his name, you come quickly, and he takes your writhing hips and their motion like a champ, easing you through it. When you feel the all-too-familiar feel of over sensitivity, you grab his hair and pull him towards your face, kissing him tenderly. 

He maneuvers his huge frame to lay down next to you, and you fall easily into a gentle embrace. It’s a comfortable silence, as he burrows his face into your chest and you stroke his hair gently.

Gentler than how you’ve ever treated him.

It’s this thought exactly that you voice to him. “You know,” you muse softly. “I was such a bitch to you.” This gets his attention, because he moves from where he was comfortable (your boobs) to look at you in alarm. “Like, I was always mean, and like acting all high and mighty—”

“Whatever you think you did, it was hot,” he interrupts you, grinning boyishly. “Like damn when you insult me I get all fired up—”

“Satoru!” You laugh, shocked, looking down at him. “You’re crazy.”

“Yea,” he winks. “Crazy for you.”

You smile softly at that, biting your lip. “I mean, I get that.” You feel his curious gaze rove over you and heat creeps up your neck as you confess, “Like I was stalking you at the gym. I saw you one time, and um. You definitely have a sleeper build.”

He hums. “I get that a lot.”

“Yea,” you blurt. “you’re really hot. Like you have really big arms, which I definitely didn’t notice in all those sweaters you wear. You could definitely throw me around.”

Silence.

When you look down at him, he’s looking at you mischievously. He sits up, takes off his shirt, and says, “Want to test that theory?”

The both of you test the theory, indeed—it’s a nice nod to your guys’ academic, theoretical physics roots. But instead of some theory involving dark matter or quantum physics debated while in class, this theory takes all night to prove.

general masterlist

a/n special thank you to @purplegemadventures ily pookie <3 we were discussing how a lot of fics so far have made seem nerd gojo really cute and shy but we tried to envision a shit eating sassy diva just like hidden inventory arc <3 like what that one anon said i need my gojo to be a little annoying cocky (but cute) bastard (or, i quote, "your gojo makes me want to oil his scalp and give him an aggressive head massage and mess his hair up"). ANYWAYS props to that one anon that dropped the "nerd gojo with sleeper build" and my beloved @tiramisuandlove i love you forever

comment and reblog to let me know ur thots!

[stressforu]

♯ itoshi rin — what he does

started making bllk fics today >:) , kinda new to the fandom since I just started reading the manga after the anime

itoshi rin x gn!reader

fluff, no warnings

home page ...

ITOSHI RIN acts cold, and he grumbles when you try to cup his cheeks when he's cold. he sighs when you eat his favorite food which he stored in the refrigerator the other day, and the way he'd roll his eyes when you'd try to show pda in public.

(hey, eating his favorite food is debatable!)

though he never meant it that way, he would get all jittery and nervous that he'd try to put up a cold facade whenever you would cup his cheeks. and he also never meant it in a bad way when he doesn't like to show pda, he's a guy who would rather keep you all to himself !! (you might not know but rin secretly boasts you to his private insta with all his dick teammates close friends.)

he would often try to put up that cold image, but his walls crumble when you're with him. he becomes soft to the point he would watch your sappy romance movies just so he can cuddle you.

you'd never notice this but, he keeps a special album solely just for you in his gallery !! he tries to listen to your music tastes, and tries to learn your interests just so he can talk about it with you !! (he'd probably listen to your gossips when you're with him, he feels like your enemy is his enemy.)

" you know that girl i was talking about last night, yeah? well she got pregnant by her ex boyfriend. "

" ...what... that's crazy... "

okay, he might be a little crazy... but he keeps your favorite keychain in his duffel bag ! imagine an all-black duffel bag and a small pinkish keychain in the strap of his bag !

he's so downbad for you he wouldn't let you sleep without cuddling with him. your head below his chest, feeling his heart beat with the rhythm of yours.

he loves loves loves you.

did i note that he loves you to the point he'd actually wear the promise ring that he gave to you on your anniversary? not in his finger but in his necklace. he'd subconsciously dangle his fingers in his necklace whenever he's stressed or he misses you >:(

does. not. forget. important. dates

occasion or not he gives you flowers. yes, he's just that kind of man !

" ... flowers ... for you .. "

" what for rinnie? our anniversary isn't till next month. "

" just because i want to..." " just take it.. "

do not forget to reward that ice king with kisses :(( !! he loves loves loves it when you kiss him, pamper him with kisses and he would immediately turn into a full make out session with him ! be careful tho ;)

rin looks at you amid the crowd. whenever he scores? he would look at your figure cheering for him loudly, he wasn't focused on the crowd their voices were a blur, and he could only hear your shouts.

you make it all so worth it.

note : did ya'll ike it?? :333 lemme know !! my man itoshi rin sbdhshshdhdb i will probably write for him next time!!!!!!!! share ur thoughts??? :3333333

[maevesheart]

only angel (2)

FINNICK ODAIR X FEM!READER

note: wasn’t originally planning on making a part two to this but it just seemed so unfinished??!?! and i love ruthless reader idk she’s a queen

summary: through your alliance with katniss, you and finnick rekindle some buried feelings.

wc: 5.2k

tw: violence, death, brutal!!reader, blood, allusions to forced prostitution

only angel (1)

SEVEN YEARS EARLIER, THE 68TH HUNGER GAMES

Brutus and Enobaria sat in front of you and Mace, your district mate.

They reminded you of strategies that you had been taught your whole life, ensuring that as long as you two played into the Capitol’s hands, you’d get plenty of sponsors and come out alive.

Mace and you had never been close back home, but you saw him in the shopping centers, had some mutual friends. It was someone familiar, and even though your two mentors spent more time perfecting your wielding of knives and crocodile tears, you hoped Mace could somehow make it far in the games. Like you knew you would.

Enobaria and Brutus had introduced you to the various other Career Tributes, taking their time to butter up the other mentors, ensuring a ticket for your survival.

You were small compared to the other tributes, even the girl from Twelve was bigger than you.

But you trained, and you trained hard, showing off the various knife and sword tricks that had been engraved in your brain since you were a child.

Enobaria helped with your endurance, shocked by how fast you were. She had instructed you to not show that off to the other tributes, don’t give too much away.

After the private sessions with your mentors, you were stronger, faster, and more agile than Mace could even dream. You almost felt bad, the way Enobaria and Brutus were setting him up for death.

But, at the end of the day, only one can make it out alive.

Enobaria was strategic, determined for you to win. She instructed you to not show too many strengths in the private session with the Gamemakers, just enough to get a respectable score for someone from a Career District.

You followed her instructions to a tee, refusing to be one of the 23 fallen.

For the interviews, Ceasar laughed at your innocent comments and jokes, complimenting the head piece you wore, noting how it looked like a halo.

“Beautiful, like an Angel,” he smiled, the crowed cheering in agreement.

You giggled, smoothing down the uncomfortable golden dress they had sewn you into.

The crowd roared with your unwavering confidence, the arrogance paired with your baby-face and innocent smile was enough to send them into a fit of convivial.

It was just too easy.

The night before the games you had snuck out of the floor for Two, going up to the rooftop in hopes of having a moment to yourself.

You perched on the ledge, a small nightgown barely covering your shivering body.

You closed your eyes to relish in what could possibly be your last moments of peace, before being snapped from your trance by footsteps echoing.

You whipped around, teeth barring and senses on high alert. You were already acting like the wild animal Enobaria had been training you to be.

“Not in the arena just yet,” a smooth voice sounds out, a boy a few years older than you coming into view.

You recognized him as Finnick Odair. He had won a few years back, and was now returning as a mentor.

You ignored him, turning back to the outline of the Capitol.

He approached you slowly, leaning his body against the glass railing you were propped against.

You looked up to him, tired-eyes meeting his, somehow seemingly sparkling.

“Unfortunately,” you spoke, your mouth in a straight line. Enobaria had introduced you to him during the parade, but his tributes were not ally-material.

He laughed at your response. You stared at him, unamused.

“Feisty,” he smirked, watching you look away from him and back to the skyline.

“Not really in the mood to talk about my fate,” you said, his eyes still burning two holes into the side of your face.

His smile dropped slightly, having once been in your position himself.

He reminded himself you were only 15. A year older than he was when he won.

He had only won 3 years ago, and stood on this same rooftop. Looking out on the same city skyline.

Your peripheral vision caught him lean both his forearms onto the glass, shifting closer to you.

“Is it just as scary as it seems?” You ask. You were a child. A child that had been trained to hunt and kill. But deep down, you were just a scared kid. How would you kill all those people?

Finnick hums, acknowledging the same question that wracked his mind the nights before his games.

“It is,” he recognized your fear, but refused to give you false hope that it wouldn’t be as brutal as it truly is.

The words Enobaria had spoken to you earlier bounced around your brain, it’s just killing. Self-defense. All of it. Don’t be scared to kill someone who isn’t scared to kill you.

You let out a long breath, closing your eyes.

“I don’t want to die,”

It was quiet, but Finnick heard it, head perking up and turning to stare at you.

The role as a tribute was meant to bring great honor to someone from your district, but you were terrified. You were young, passionate. You had so much to give and so little time to give it all.

“Enobaria told me to hide my strengths, and I did. I’ll be able to kill them, once it comes down to it. But how will I live with myself?”

Finnick asked himself the same question everyday. How did he kill all those people? Sure, it was survival. Him or them. But how do you continue your life, pretending like you hadn’t murdered people on live national television?

“I—“ Finnick fell short, eyes still watching the side of your face.

“How do you cope with it all?” You finally turned to him, salty tears on your cheeks.

He knew you were preparing yourself for the inevitable. He had heard Enobaria boast about you, and had seen you in training. Other tributes would be frightened to get close to you.

He didn’t answer, swallowing thickly. You would soon understand, you would be in his position.

You choked out a sob, hands wrapping around your body.

He watched with wild eyes, before pulling you into his warm chest, head burrowing in his body.

You made no move to remove yourself from his body, and his arms were snug against your back.

“Kill as many as you can, as soon as you can. Then lay low, hunt. Don’t fall for any of that ally-bullshit.”

His voice was rushed, eyes filled with emotion. He felt for you, a scared child. He remembered his fear all too well.

You sniffled in his chest, hands balling at the thin fabric of his top.

And you listened to him.

In those next few hours, during the bloodbath, you killed two, both with knives to the chest. The Capitol citizens cheered as your face reflected the highest kill-count. You knew it was nothing to be proud of.

That next evening, while the rest of the Career pack slept, you stole the boy from One’s — Yves — backpack, shoving their weapons into it as quietly as possible.

Your small size came handy, being able to stealthily move around them, you were lucky the arena was a desert, sand not making a noise.

The girl from One — Aithon — began to lightly stir, and you knew it was now or never. Finnick’s words from the night before mixed with Enobaria’s, and that was all you needed to take a sword in each hand and take down the two tributes from One.

Their deaths were quick, the canons sounding out and Mace waking up, his laying figure looking up at you. Small but powerful.

You stood over his body, one foot on each of his arms, keeping him from reaching up to you.

His face twisted in confusion, looking over to the blood pouring from Yves and Aithon, each who had just been sleeping soundly next to him.

Your knife neared his face in milliseconds, and you had to force your arms down as he began to scream.

“I’m sorry,” was all you could whisper, guilt beginning to cloud your senses.

But you pushed past it, knowing you had to come out alive. No other option.

“Y/N! Please!”

And then there was silence.

He wasn’t anything special, but he was from home.

You held in tears as the canon sounded, running from the three as quickly as you could.

Whilst you hid behind one of the large cacti around the arena, Enobaria grinned as Capitol citizens celebrated her and you, her star tribute.

Finnick watched, heart tugging, knowing that he had encouraged the killings, he had told you to trust no one. And you had listened.

And from then on, you became the Capitol’s angel, their winged symbol of purity, despite the blood and deaths of many on your hands.

When Snow placed the crown on your head, you smiled, naively, and thanked the crowd. Thanked them for their donations, and their belief in you from the beginning.

But that’s all you were to them: a spectacle. A little girl who killed five in one day, a little girl who’s life had been dedicated to these games, to win. A little girl who would never get her purity back, never get to sleep without seeing Mace’s terrified face before she killed him.

He didn’t deserve it, none of them did. But it was life or death. And there was no way you were going to die.

PRESENT DAY, THE THIRD QUARTER QUELL

Your group continued up to the Cornucopia, you and Finnick taking the tail.

Peeta and Finnick drew a map in the dark sand, you leaned against the side of the metal Cornucopia, Johanna plopping down next to you, and Katniss on your other side.

It all happened in a blur. One second, Wiress was singing her song about a mouse and the clock, and the next, Gloss was on top of her, knife straight into the heart.

Katniss’s arrow struck him, you grabbing your swords to get Cashmere who was standing behind him.

Finnick rushed after you. He knew you could take Cashmere, but what happened if Brutus appeared? Brutus had never been kind to you, and it was doubtful he would start now.

Your sword stuck Cashmere in the leg, and she screamed, falling onto the little amount of ground that the middle sector offered.

She turned over, knife in her left hand, grazing your ankle slightly. Luckily your stylist had dressed you in thicker socks; she had been an absolute idiot about most things, but at least she had your back in the arena.

Your thigh was still slightly burning with pain, but you pushed through it, sticking both your swords into Cashmere’s chest, a strangled gasp leaving her lips and her head falling back against the ground.

The canon sounded out, but you continued to pull your swords out and drive them back into her chest, more blood pouring out.

You were grunting now, mind hyper-aware of your actions, but refusing to stop.

You kept driving the sharp tools into her chest, her body slightly moving up when you retracted the metal, and then caving in as you pushed them back.

You weren’t going to die; you refused to.

Hands were on your shoulders, pulling you backwards, and you turned, swinging.

Finnick let go and backed away, hands held up. He knew you’d never hurt him, but once you’re in the killing mindset, it’s very hard to break it.

You dropped the weapons to your side, a long breath leaving your lips that you hadn’t realized you’d be holding in.

Finnick pulled you along with him, hand on your side as he brought you over to everyone else.

All of them were staring with wide eyes — besides Johanna of course.

Katniss knew you were brutal, but she didn’t realize how quickly you did turn into the angel of death. One second you were smiling, laughing at something Johanna had said.

Then your eyes were lit with a fire, teeth out, and running, faster than Katniss had ever seen someone move.

She had watched you kill Cashmere in seconds, continuing to drive the weapons into her, sounds of exasperation leaving your lips but you were unrelenting.

You felt like you were fifteen again, scared and angry, brutal to anyone who crossed your path. Your swordsmanship was uncanny, and Katniss dreaded the moment that she had to try and kill you.

And then the Cornucopia began to spin, extremely fast. You grabbed onto Finnick, a sword sucking down into the water, your other tight in the palm of your opposite hand.

You and Finnick fell to the ground, grabbing at the hard rocks to keep from flying to the water.

And then you heard Peeta scream Katniss’s name, and the two of you both yelled a loud, “shit!”

You pushed off the hard ground, crawling to the side of the island, hand reaching down to grab Johanna’s axe and try to hoist the two of them up.

You grunted, holding onto a small portion of the metal that wasn’t sharp. Your feet dug into the ground, sword shoved into the rock to keep you grounded.

You watched as Katniss went flying down, and then Johanna was on top of you, the two of you gasping for oxygen when the spinning stopped.

You and Johanna were back on your feet, rushing to help Katniss out of the water.

You all made your way back onto the sand, where it was relatively safe.

You discussed strategy, your fingers tracing different shapes into Finnick’s thigh.

“Who’s left then?” Katniss asked, eyes flickering between you and Johanna, the two of you having a conversation with your eyes.

“Brutus and Chaff, I think that’s all,” Peeta announced, all eyes shifting to you at the mention of your district-mate.

“I get Brutus,” you spoke clearly, eyes hard.

“Y/N…” Finnick spoke, hand smoothing down your arm.

“Just… I know him. I can handle it, I swear,”

He had helped train you, of course you would know his methods like the back of your hand. You had been seeking revenge for years, waiting for the day you could get him back.

What had the games done to you? Fantasizing about killing someone?

And then you were back there, back to the moment your life really ended.

You were dressed in clothes Snow had picked out, a hairstyle Snow had picked out, makeup Snow had picked out. You were his newest doll, malleable to his every demand.

It was your victory tour, and Enobaria and Brutus were accompanying you, helping you with speeches and coming to terms with your new life as a Capitol pet.

You were finishing up in the Capitol, the final destination. Snow had laid out his conditions for you: your pride and body now belonged to the Capitol, and with it, they could do what they pleased. Your company came with a high price.

He had threatened your family back in Two, describing in detail what would become of them if you didn’t comply with his wishes.

You had gone back to the train and told Enobaria and Brutus, eyes spilling hot tears when Enobaria pulled you into her arms, hands stroking your hair. At least she was kind.

Brutus, however, was not.

His boisterous laugh rang off the walls of the train, your eyes peeking out from Enobaria’s embrace to glare at him.

“Let me know when you start, sweetheart,” he smirked, a scowl overtaking your features.

You had been waiting to get him back, to show him that weren’t a little slave for his disposal. Finnick understood your rage, more than any other person could.

He wanted to kill Brutus just as badly as you did.

No one else asked any questions, and for that you were grateful.

And then the screaming started, and you jumped to your feet, eyes frantic and scanning the area.

Whoever it was, they were screaming for Katniss, and rather brutally as well.

And off she took. You were the fastest, so you caught her first, arms around her shoulders to steady her, but she kept moving, screaming back to the voice.

She stopped abruptly, and shot an arrow into a large black bird that was flying over your heads.

The screaming stopped immediately. And then it began again, this time, it was the voice of Mace. And you felt the blood drain from your entire body, legs suddenly shaking and threatening to go out.

The words he had screamed to you before you had slit his throat were wrapping around your body, swallowing you whole.

“Y/N! Please! Y/N!” You were running then, the screaming getting louder and louder, tears streaming down your face as you tried to escape it; the horror that would haunt you forever.

“It’s not real, they’re jabberjays!” Katniss assured you, running behind you, trying to catch up.

You saw Finnick and Johanna’s faces ahead through your blurry vision, and you sped up, Finnick’s arms wide for you to run into.

But it was a force field, and you collided right into it, falling to the ground in a heap of tears and painful memories.

You covered your ears, head digging into the ground to stop the noise, but it wouldn’t stop. You wailed, and Finnick was hitting the force field, which he was standing on the direct other side, but there was no avail.

He was screaming for you, to look at him, listen to his voice. But the field was soundproof, and he had to watch with a heavy heart as you sobbed, the sounds of the person you betrayed all those years ago the only thing you could focus on.

Finnick’s hands were all over you, smoothing down your hair, checking your face, helping you stand.

Peeta was doing the same with Katniss, the both of you having tear-stains down your cheeks and dirt smudged into your cheeks.

You were frozen solid, eyes big and wide, legs slightly shaking. You had never felt worse about something than what you did to Mace that dreadful night. His screams haunted your dreams, and to have the Gamemakers play into that weakness reminded you just who the real enemy is.

“Y/N, look at me,” Finnick’s hands were on the sides of your face, pulling you closer to his protective figure.

“It wasn’t real. It wasn’t him,” he shook his head lightly, your lips still quivering from fear.

You could only muster the strength to simply nod, telling him that you knew, but the Gamemakers were cruel, so cruel, and they had hit you right where it hurt.

Just as you were beginning to regain your usual automatic-kill mindset, a small box flew down, straight into your hands.

Everyone gathered around you, curious as to what could’ve been sent.

You knew Enobaria would have your back, and considering the sponsors this year were based upon what you had left over from your games, you were lucky. You had a large pot of donations under your name, not needing much assistance when you were in your first games.

You screwed off the top, being met with a small vile of Crave Cure, the very concoction that she had sent you during your games. It came with a note reading: remember who the real enemy is. I’m always rooting for you. - Baria

That assured you of Enobaria’s stance, likely scheming with Haymitch and Plutarch behind the scenes, ensuring your protection by Thirteen.

Finnick smiled next to you, Johanna calling out with happiness.

“Finally!” Johanna cheered, axe thrust into the air.

You even broke a smile, suddenly distracted from the traumatic experience you had just endured.

You looked up, seeing the confused looks on Katniss and Peeta’s faces.

They would’ve never heard of Crave Cure, it was the most expensive thing a mentor could send their tribute, and required many sponsors. It was usually only sent to the Careers, both you and Finnick had received it during your games.

“Crave Cure,” you spoke, Katniss’s eyes meeting yours.

“One drop on your tongue and it cures hunger for 12 hours,” you smiled to them, picking up the vile.

“Enobaria is a saint,” Johanna spoke, watching as you dropped a tiny bit of the brown liquid onto your tongue, a content sigh escaping your lips.

Beetee went next, then Finnick and Johanna.

Katniss and Peeta stood awkwardly to the side, not knowing to approach or not.

“Oh, enough of that! We’re allied, aren’t we? Take a drop,” you urged, placing the vile into her hands.

Peeta nodded, and that seemed to be all the convincing Katniss needed before mimicking your action and gagging when she tasted the fluid.

You laughed at her expression, a light-hearted tease. “Not the best, but it does do its job,”

You figured you had really won her trust, considering how she walked next to you during the hike to the big tree.

The two of you talked about your families back home. You complimented her dedication, to protect her little sister.

She had killed your Cato and Clove; the two you had spent hours coaching, assuring they’d be okay in the end. Words you had needed so badly during your games.

Through talking with Katniss, you realized no one deserved to win as much as she did. She was selfless, willing to sacrifice herself for both her sister and Peeta, placing herself as a protector, not a victim.

And then the peace you had all been building crashed down, Katniss suddenly retreating from the trust you all had built after Beetee offered she go with you and Johanna.

“Why can’t Johanna and Y/N go? I’ll protect you with Peeta,” she spoke, and you met Finnick’s gaze. You read the fear in his eyes, knowing this the was now or never moment.

“Katniss,” you spoke, hands resting on her shoulders.

“You know who the true enemy is,” you whispered, holding her intense eye-contact.

Her eyes softened at your words, everything seemingly clicking into place. With a nod, you grabbed her hand, and pulled her with you and Johanna.

A look over your shoulder to Finnick, and a nod. Your eyes said it all: I love you. I’ll see you soon, once we are safe and out of the Capitol’s hands.

You and Johanna halted your movements, stopping Katniss as you did.

“Stay down,” Johanna instructed Katniss, grabbing her arm.

“What-“ Katniss was about to scream, and you could not let that happen.

You grabbed her face with your hands, eyes frantic for her faith.

“You can trust us,” you whispered, barely loud enough for the cameras to pick up on.

But the raw emotion in your eyes calmed Katniss, giving Johanna the opportunity to cut the tracker out, Katniss’s arm beginning to bleed heavily.

“It’s alright,” you soothed her, your arm out to Johanna, waiting for the inevitable sear of pain.

And then it came, and you placed your body over Katniss’s not allowing her to get up and try to attack.

But then you spotted Brutus over the rock, his hard eyes staring straight into yours.

“Y/N,” Johanna warned, watching the familiar fire begin to brew.

You were up in seconds, sword in one hand, knife in the other, running up the rocky hill. The pain in your arm was masked by the rush of adrenaline you ran high off, killing spree — if you will.

Johanna grunted in anger, but she knew not to expect anything different from you.

“Do not move,” she instructed Katniss, picking up her axe to follow you.

You had reached Brutus quickly, pouncing onto his back and driving your sword straight through his abdomen.

He cried out in pain, blood soon coating your legs that wrapped around his waist.

You pulled the sword out, taking the knife to his neck. He was dead in seconds, the familiar canon sounding throughout the arena.

After registering what you had done, images of Katniss flooded your mind and you internally cursed yourself, rushing back to the spot you had left her and Johanna.

Johanna was back to your side, but Katniss was no where to be seen.

“Fuck!” You cursed, sprinting back towards the tree where Beetee, Finnick, and Peeta were.

She had likely gone back to protect Peeta and kill Finnick, and you were not about to let that happen.

Johanna tried to keep up with you; but even with a gushing arm and slit leg, you were fast. Much faster than anyone else.

“Finnick!” You screamed, feet pounding against the hard ground, propelling you towards the tree, where you watched Katniss aim her arrow straight at Finnick’s head.

Beetee was on the ground, and you crouched, feeling for his pulse. His heart was still beating and you hovered over him protectively, in case Katniss decided to turn around and fire at you too. Which seemed very likely.

You watched as Finnick said something to Katniss, obviously resonating with her, the bow slightly lowering.

“Johanna! Give me your arm!” You swung around, panic-struck and searching for the familiar face.

And you saw her a few feet below, trying to climb the vines you had mounted with ease.

You looked between Finnick and her, torn as to which to try and protect. You knew Finnick would hold his own, so you turned back around and began to move for Johanna, quick feet avoiding possible injuries.

But just as you were in grabbing-distance of her, Finnick’s voice rang out, screaming, “Get away from that tree!”

A crack of something echoed around you, and you turned wildly, trying to figure out what had just happened.

Then you understand what Finnick had meant, a loud crack of lightening rained down and sent you flying, reaching for Johanna as you flew past her, her terrified eyes meeting yours.

The last thing you remembered was being pulled up into the air by a large claw, head and limbs limp as you were hoisted up; sword still secure in your palm, a protection habit you had picked up since your games. You always needed to be armed, after all, life was the arena.

You awoke to the sound of a heart monitor, steady beeping lightly calming your high-alert nerves.

You winced sitting up, large bandages wrapped around your forearm and thigh.

You inspected your surroundings, two empty mats in front of you, and Katniss sleeping to your left.

You stood, hushed voices on the other side of the door that reached the ceiling of the craft you were on.

You looked for a weapon of sorts, not willing to go in unarmed. On the other side of the empty room was your sword, glimmering and coated in blood.

You walked over to it, legs sore and aching, the familiar metal calming against your palm.

The door immediately opened as you approached it, Haymitch and Plutarch’s widening as they spotted your weapon of choice clutched in your ruthless hands.

But it dropped to the floor with a loud clatter when your tired eyes met Finnick’s, a relieved smile coming over your features.

You rushed to him, throwing yourself into his arms. His lips met yours halfway, melting into his strong hold around your body.

The two of you fit together perfectly, like you had been made in the same mold.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him tighter to your already close bodies.

You poured all your pent up feelings into the kiss, all the feelings you had suppressed since the fight that had ended your relationship.

It was the most relaxed you had been in the whole week, since your name was plucked from the bowl of living victors.

His lips moved against yours as he squeezed your hips, hands feeling everything they could, to ensure that it was in fact you, and you were alive and safe in front of him.

You pulled a part, a grin across your small face.

He smiled back, but your bliss was interrupted from the clearing of a throat behind you. You spun around, eyes meeting the expectant ones of Haymitch, Plutarch, and Beetee.

The look on your face said it all. And Haymitch nodded, validating all the thoughts that had been running through your head.

You were safe, headed for the secret hideout of Thirteen. All was okay.

You almost began to laugh thinking about how the Capitol would react, their Angel and Darling being two of the biggest conspirators in a rebellion. How ironic.

And Katniss was on the ship, you had successfully carried out your tasks.

“Where’s Johanna?” You asked, a smile still dotting your face.

Finnick’s composure broke, and your heart dropped, realizing the obvious.

“No, no, no, no,” you began to back away, spine hitting the hard metal of the table.

“I went after Brutus, I didn’t cut the tracker… fuck! Oh my god, Finnick, oh god,” you began to dry-heave, accepting her capture as your fault.

Finnick’s hands were on your biceps, steadying you and pulling you back into his chest.

“Johanna and Peeta are in the Capitol,” Plutarch spoke, your worst fears being confirmed.

“It’s all my fault,” you groaned, head in your hands. You had killed, hunted, and tortured. But the idea of a friend’s death being on your hands hurt more than any of those ever did.

Haymitch spoke reassuring words behind you, but Finnick’s hold and the idea of betraying Johanna was all you could focus on.

How would she forgive you? Was she alive? How would you ever cope if she wasn’t, and it was all your fault? Of course, you let the murderer take over, and went after Brutus.

Finnick’s arms soothed down your back, keeping your grounded as you were flooded with grief, with the heavy weight of betrayal.

Johanna and you were close friends, you were supposed to protect each other in the games. She had protected you, always by your side, and you neglected to do the same.

“We’re going to try and rescue them as soon as we can,” Haymitch said, even though you all knew that might be an impossible task.

And then Finnick slipped his hand into yours, fingers curling around yours and softly rubbing your knuckles.

You composed yourself, closing your eyes as you took in a deep breath, regaining focus on just your interlocked hands. Finnick always knew how to relax you.

All you had wanted initially was to get out of this quarter quell alive, to return home to your big mansion and family. To hug them again, to prove to the Capitol that they could take everything from you, but they couldn’t kill you.

But now, you realized that all had been in vain. Where you really belonged was here, holding hands with Finnick, discussing how you were going to break your friends from the Capitol’s mean grip.

You’d die for him, for them. You’d flap your wings once more to ensure they’d all live.

When Katniss first volunteered for Primrose, you hadn’t understood how she would sacrifice her life for another.

But now you knew, and you knew you’d do it too.

You finally had something to live for, someone you loved, who understood all that you had gone through better than anyone else.

Life was the arena, and if it came down to it, you knew the angel would sacrifice herself for the darling.

**

[iid-smile]

hello! so, i don't know if you take requests, or write for blue lock in your blog, but if you do, may i request an interviewer!reader x the blue lock boys? the specific characters i want are: sae, rin, nagi, and kaiser. but feel free to add or remove characters as you'd like. but if you don't take requests and or don't write for blue lock, just tell me, no problem! thank you, and take care! also, i love your work!

crushing on the job

various blue lock boys x gn!interviewer!reader !

rin, sae, nagi, bachira, kunigami

author's note: this is a first because ive never thought id get a request for blue lock 😯 unfortunately, some sacrifices have been made since i don't read the manga, and kaiser has been eliminated... (im sorry i literally know nothing about him 😞) SO i added in bachira and kunigami in to make up for it

note: i wrote this as if they were normal footballers, so nothing from blue lock and whatever happens after is mentioned. the drabbles really very in length and definitely aren't equal.

synopsis: how they act when they fall in love with an interviewer at first sight. headcanons + drabbles!

itoshi rin I pre game interview

it's VERY obvious that he's caught something for you, because the way he looks at you is different to other interviewers

he's often at a loss for words and asks you to repeat your questions a lot. his head is in the clouds, and none of them get answered properly

he's overall a lot kinder and lighter with his words and ways of speech. his stance is much more relaxed than usual

the chances of either of you asking each other out are slim, so one of his teammates would do a bit of digging to get your contact info for him. if not, he'll be thinking about you nonstop and it messes up his performance

your feet move and twist around on the grass outside of camera view, as you stand beside one of the most skilled strikers in japan. the struggle of trying to put off this interview had to be abandoned at some point, and it's been months, yet it still feels too soon.

once the cameraman gives you a thumbs up, you take a deep breath and start to speak, completely forgetting to introduce yourself and the player. "so, what do you think the score will be in the end?"

rin just stares at you in the eye blankly, and it took you the small movement of turning the microphone towards him to snap him out of it. "huh?" his eyebrows raise a little.

you've seen how his other interviews have gone, and you were more than nervous to have your turn, fully expecting yourself to be belittled to some degree. but is it just you, or does he seem a bit... different? "t-the score? your predictions on the score?" you repeat, a small stutter in your voice and decreasing in volume as you go.

"uh..." he wipes his nose with his thumb and looks off to the side for a few seconds, before turning back to you again. "the score... yes." he answers mindlessly, nodding his head. it wasn't even a yes or no question...

in confusion, you blink, not even knowing how to respond. you were trying so hard to not let how uncomfortable you are shine through. you really have not a single clue what this man is thinking. "how are you feeling? about the upcoming match, i mean."

"a bit excited, i guess... i've been training." he looks at you and replies quietly before looking away again and scratching the back of his neck. "and other things..."

this is a first. anxiousness? rin always struck you as a confident man, or at least from what you've seen he is, so what does he have to be nervous about?

itoshi sae | meeting by chance (not)

(im sorry guys this may or may not be the most ooc and corny thing ever + im going off of the tiniest clips of him in the anime)

he just so happened to recognise you after a match

you interviewed every single player on his team except for him. coincidence? he thinks not. he's the best player, isn't he? why wouldn't you want to ask him anything?

for some reason, he finds it extremely entertaining when you're intimidated by him as a whole. he doesn't visibly show it though. you've got to have some confidence if you intentionally ignore THE itoshi sae

it's not that he's in love (probably in denial), but he's intrigued by you. he's a lot more pushy about things, but he doesn't mean to make it overwhelming. that's just his presence alone doing that

every interviewer out there knows how dry yet valuable sae's answers are. they ask the same questions, he gets the same answers, all the time. that's precisely why you don't want to interview him yourself. being shut down every time you try to question something is more embarrassing than people think, and you cringe just thinking about it.

so imagine your relief when you successfully get through an entire match without crossing paths with him. you would get to send in your notes, go home all happy and jolly, and sleep peacefully without a care in the world. but luck can only last so long.

you were just about to take a much needed bathroom break, but before you could turn a corner, there's a figure blocking your path. "you avoided me." it's itoshi sae in front of you.

your mind draws a blank. there's no one from your team within sight, or rather anyone in sight, and not even the comfort of your notebook could save you.

not only were you so confident in the fact that you wouldn't meet him that you hadn't written down any questions under his name, but you also told your team to wait in the car because you wouldn't take too long. "oh... i did?" a clear lie. "well, the producer and cameraman aren't here and stuff, so..." you attempt to get yourself out of situation, sheepishly at that.

his facial expression didn't change. he just continues to look down at you, and it was impossible to hold eye contact for more than a second. "unfortunate. because i want to hear what you have to say."

"i-it's nothing important, really... it's nothing you haven't heard before—"

he cuts you off. "i want to hear you say it."

something about the way he said it really freaks you out. conflict was running through your thoughts, your fingers twisting in the metal rings of your notebook. "okay... just a short one."

while your head was turned, you managed to catch a glimpse of his eyes squinting slightly, dare you say softening, and you pull out a pen from your pocket. "make sure you write down every word."

oh, you definitely were; with shaky hands. "will you say something different?" you ask. it was stupid, but still, you were eager to know.

for a beat, he stays silent, then tilting his head to the side. "...we'll see."

nagi seishiro I photobomber

this guy is in the background 24/7. he's honestly just a a bit lost and a curious little thing

he gets closer and closer until you finally interview him. at first he'll just be a blur, and he comes all the way up to behind you. he doesn't even mean to sneak up on you like that, he just wants to talk to you. his shadow would be so scary when he looms over you from behind

he's so weirdly energetic when he talks to you? not by a lot, but definitely more than when he normally speaks. he can actually be bothered to answer you properly, which is unexpected by many

he doesn't really flirt. if he does, it's unintentional. he's honest with his words and it kinda makes things awkward

"yes, thank you. i'm here at the saitama stadium to—" your eyes glanced down at the shadow on top of yours, growing larger and larger, and eventually overtaking the size of yours.

all of a sudden, there's a hand on your shoulder. "are you an interviewer?"

your head whips back and you take a step forward. you really shouldn't have been as surprised as you were, since you literally saw it coming. but you recognise this face. messy hair, much like a eskimo puppy, and dark eyes with permanent eyebags. nagi seishiro, who just happened to be a must have on your 'to interview list'.

"yes... yes, i am an interviewer."

nagi's hand remains on your shoulder, and he glances up at the camera in front of you. "is this on?" he points at it.

with a small glance at the device yourself, you nod. "mhm. and live." now that he's right here in front of you, you have to seize the opportunity. "since you're already here, would you like to...?"

lifting his hand, it's almost as if he took offence to the offer, his eyebrows furrowing. "who wouldn't want to with an interviewer as pretty as you?" he says, loud and clear.

you thought you were hearing things. him calling you pretty? that can't be real. "o-oh..." was the only thing you could say, a chuckle automatically leaving your mouth right after. it seems like he hadn't realised the effect of what he's said, moving on as if nothing happened.

bachira meguru I a silly pest

shameless and playful

the type of flirt that has you giggling and forgetting what you have to say because he's so smooth with it OR he's just so confusing that you accidentally agree to his advances

the type to say "this goal is for you" or "if i win this, you give me your number" and makes a promise to score as many times as possible

either he really embarrasses himself and you find his reaction cute, or he looks unexpectedly cool when he makes all of his shots like it's nothing

during one of his celebrations, he holds his hand up to his ear (🤙) so it's pretty much set in stone that you give him your number

you came prepared. interviewing a player very known for childish antics and trolling wasn't going to be easy, but you're always up for a challenge, especially when it'll reward you with some good material to work with. once the cameraman gives you the thumbs up, you finally start to speak. "are you disappointed that you haven't won an away games in a while?"

"hm..." bachira pouts, pretending to think as he rolls the ball beneath his foot. the entire time since the camera's been on him, he hasn't looked up from the ground. yet. "i'm more disappointed i haven't had the chance to meet you earlier. really had me missing out on life, you know?" he glances up at you as if that was the most normal thing to say, a cheeky smirk playing on his lips.

keep your cool, keep your cool. "how do you feel about being one of the youngest players on the team?" purposely, you don't expand on his answer, and move on to the next.

"i don't know. how old are you?"

as much as you'd like to entertain him, it wouldn't be appropriate. "too old for you." you reply, keeping your tone light with a chuckle.

"ah... you'll just have to wait for me then, huh?" oh. you don't think he was lying about that.

the smile and light atmosphere of the interview drops in an instant, replaced by a slightly stunned look that you know won't look good airing. how does he say these things with a straight face?

you quickly school your expression into a more neutral one. it's not like you can reprimand him on live tv, as much as you'd like to. "you don't think that's a little inappropriate?" you say.

bachira just shrugs, rolling a shoulder. "inappropriate is subjective." he doesn't give you a moment of rest, shifting his bodyweight to the other foot and continuing to toy with the ball. "can you ask me another question? this one is boring... actually, i'll ask you a question."

"oh god..." you mutter, your hand twitching and ready to facepalm.

"how about..." his eyes stare deep into yours, as if he was searching for something inside of them. "if i score a hat trick, i get your number."

your face scrunches up, since you thought he would take the hint already that you have to keep this professional. "that's a request." you correct.

"exactly."

"what?"

"so... number?"

"yes—" in that split second, your real personality slipped out, your brain subconsciously wanting to accept his offer. a brief moment later, the damage was already done, yet you were trying to fix it. "no! no!"

but he was already running off, a little skip in each step. "thank you~!" your manager won't be happy at all.

kunigami rensuke I press conference

probably wouldn't shoot his shot publicly/verbally, no pun intended. it's a respect sort of thing and a barrier between careers

might be ooc, but he really reminds me of this moment (i know its basketball, but still) are you seeing what im seeing?

accidentally threw his towel or water bottle at you at some point during his warmups, and then the sight of your pretty self was stamped into his brain

the clips would get really popular, and your company pretty much pressured you into going to his next game, and then the one after that, and the one after that...

even with all of the lights flashing in his eyes, kunigami could see you as if some sort of spotlight was on you, glancing around and hesitantly trying to find a moment to speak up. how could he not recognise you? you were that pretty interviewer that he threw his towel at by mistake. your face truly was unforgettable, and his first interaction with you happened to go like that.

usually, he would let thinks like this go, since it's not really something he needs to deal with, but he still feels like he owes you something. "hey, let them speak." he voices, firm and unyielding. anyone in their right mind wouldn't mess with a guy that clearly works out on a regular basis.

"so, you were saying?" he puts on his best smile, and you're so stunned by his kindness that you forget what you were going to say in the first place. luckily, you managed to put together some sort of random question that was good enough.

"ah, yes." you take a minute to look at your notes; they were completely blank. not very helpful... "you did really well during the game, but you didn't score as many goals as you did in your previous match. do you believe that you could have performed better, or are you satisfied with your results?"

he takes a second, and after a moment he responds. "well," his eyes gleam with pride. "i'm pretty satisfied with my performance. but i could do better, and i plan to in future matches as well."

and your little interest in passionate people ignites. "how do you do it? how do you keep improving, when you're already so good?"

he chuckles, slightly embarrassed by your compliment. "really, it isn't that amazing. i just love football, you know. i can't help but to always strive to do better. the people who are close to me motivate me a lot." a staff member moves over to adjust the microphone as kunigami has his head down, writing something on an unopened bottle of drink that his team was sponsored by.

by the time he lifts his gaze up to you again, he's suddenly struck with a certain dazzle in your eyes, a spark of curiosity. it felt like an attack straight to his heart, and that's when he knew you might be the one. perhaps it was naïve, but he's never felt this way before.

you knew it was best to step down before you get too ahead of yourself, so you nod and hand your mic to your assistant at your side. other people need their turns too, right? you also fail to notice kunigami giving the bottle to the staff next to him, whispering a few words to them.

only a few minutes later did you find yourself with a free drink in your hand, his number scribbled over the label in a thick black marker.

[hikakuriyyu]

poison. (Mickey Altieri smut)

⁎ warnings: toxic relationship, arguing, smoking, kissing, cussing, !smut! (p in v, unprotected, no aftercare or foreplay) female!reader. not proof read.

⁎ summary: you hated your life. you were in college, lonely and depressed. until you met Mickey, your current boyfriend. he made you feel loved. seen. but there was a problem: he was toxic. and you loved it...

⁎ author note: heyy. i know i said i didn't write smut, i wanted to experiment with stuff. so here u go, smut lol...

You were drowning. College wasn't helping, and loneliness clung to you. Your only escapes were drugs, cigarettes, and him. Mickey.

You met him on campus one late evening, leaning on a brick wall, cigarette hanging from his lips as he lazily asked where you were headed. It was casual. Innocent. But from that moment, he had you wrapped around his finger. He became your muse, your obsession.

Then came the fights. The shouting. The slammed doors and broken glass. The cycle... It never got better, but you didn't want it to. You loved the way he always came back, fists against your door, voice filled with desperation. The way his hands trembled when he touched you after. The way he'd drop to his knees, eyes glossy with regret and possession, begging for forgiveness.

And you forgave him. Everytime.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

A cigarette dangled between your fingers, smoke curling toward the ceiling of your empty dorm. You were lucky. You'd managed to score a room all to yourself, not having to deal with a burden of a roommate.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, the screen lighting up: Mickey <3, the caller ID said. This was the 11th call of the night. You didn't answer. You just watched it ring, controlling yourself to not give into his desperation.

His voice still echoed in your ears from earlier. The sharp words, the venom laced in every breath. The argument had been bad. Even worse than usual. You could still feel the heat of it, the way his eyes had darkened, the way his grip on your hand had tightened a little too much...

☆FLASHBACK☆

''Oh so now you care ?'' Mickey's voice was sharp, his eyes wild with something between anger and desperation. He stood in your dorm room, pacing like a caged animal, running a hand through his messy hair. You scoffed, arms crossed, a cigarette burning between your fingers. "Don't start with this jealous boyfriend act again, Mickey. It's exhausting..."

''Jealous ?'' he laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Yeah, maybe I am. Maybe I'm fucking sick of you acting like I don't exist when we’re not in bed or when you're not using me to feel something."

Your jaw tightened. "Oh, fuck you. You're the one who disappears for days, then comes back like I should be waiting for you !"

He stepped closer, towering over you, voice dropping to something almost soft, but laced with anger. "Yeah ? And what do you do when I'm gone, huh ? Who the fuck were you with last night ?" he said. This again... Your eyes narrowed. "I was alone, Mickey." you told him. Which was the truth, but he wouldn't believe it.

"Bullshit." his hand slammed against the wall beside your head, making you flinch. "You ignore my calls all night, come back smelling like a fucking bar, and expect me to believe you just had a little me time ?"

"Oh, so now I need your permission to breathe? Well Mickey, you're the one who fucks off whenever it's convenient. Don't act like you're some loyal saint." You sneered at him.

His hands curled into fists, trembling with restraint. "I'd never fucking cheat on you." his voice was low, dangerous. "But you ? You're so fucking detached, it wouldn't surprise me if you already fucked someone else."

That one stung. Your blood boiled, and before you could think, you were shoving him back. "Fuck you, Mickey. Get out."

His nostrils flared, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. For a moment, you thought he might leave. But then his expression changed, dark eyes softening, lips parting, regret settling in.

"Baby… I didn't mean that." he murmured as he walked closer to you.

But you turned away, refusing to look at him. And just like that, you heard the front door close...

☆BACK TO PRESENT☆

You stared at your phone as it continued ringing. It then stopped.

*ding* ''Open the door.'' the message said. You knew Mickey wasn't gonna give up. It took him 2 hours to ''recover'' from that argument. You sighed before putting out the cigarette.

Dragging yourself up, you walked to the front door and unlocking it. The second you did, Mickey shoved his way inside, slamming it shut behind him. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair a mess, his breathing ragged like he ran here.

"You're useless." he snapped, jaw clenched.

"And you're a fucking psycho." you shot back, walking towards him.

His lips twitched, something between a smirk and a snarl. He grabbed your wrist, pulling you closer. "You love it."

You did. You hated him. You loved him. It didn't fucking matter.

You crashed into each other, lips colliding in something desperate, messy. His hands tangled in your hair, yours clawing at his jacket, pulling, needing. Teeth clashed, nails scratched, breathing ragged between kisses that felt like drowning.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

Without further warning, he grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head, his body pressing against you. You could feel the heat from his skin and the hardness of his arousal through his thin clothing. His mouth found yours in a brutal kiss, forcing his tongue between your lips and claiming your mouth as his own. You could taste the alcohol on his breath, the fire igniting a spark within you.

He pushed you towards the wall, his hands roaming freely over youre body as he unbuckled his pants. You waited there impatiently, watching as he freed his erection from his boxers. His dick was now fully visible, thick and throbbing.

Mickey turned you around before he entered inside you without any prep. He only cared about his pleasure right now, only seeking you to relieve his stress. But that didnt matter at the moment. You moaned as you felt him stretch you out... ''Fuck...'' you heard him groan.

He then started pounding inside you, not planning to stop anytime soon. His hand wrapped around your throat, not tight enough to cut off air, just enough to remind you who was in control.

''You're such a fucking bitch...'' he hissed, his other hand slipping between your thighs, fingers ruthless against your clit. ''And you're a cheater...'' you snapped back before letting out another moan.

His hips stuttered for a second. Just a second. Because you both knew it was true. But he didn't stop. Couldn't stop. This was how you punished each other, how you forgave each other, all in the same breathless, broken cycle. His hand clamped over your mouth, silencing your hurtful words. His hips snapped forward with reckless abandon. You moaned against his palm, the sound muffled but desperate, your climax hitting you like a freight train. Sharp, all-consuming, leaving you breathless and trembling.

The way your body clenched around him dragged him over the edge, a guttural curse spilling from his lips as he came, hips jerking, breath hot against your temple.

For a moment, there was silence. Just the sound of your ragged breaths. Then he pulled out, standing up without a word, and you knew it wouldn't be long before he walked out that door again. You felt amazing and disgusting at the same time.

''Do you think it's always gonna be like this ?'' he asked you as he fixed his clothes. You let out a sigh as you thought about it. Was it really going to be like this ? Argue, hate, forgive, repeat. ''Who knows...'' you murmur as you softly sat down on the couch. You still loved him to death. Nothing was going to make you leave him.

Then, his phone dinged on the coffee table: Message from Sid💕: is she gone ?

The End.

[artsekey]

Recommended Media | 2024 Roundup!

Hey, everyone! I decided to collect a list of my top media of 2024; I'm very picky about how I spend my limited free time, and everything on this list gets a 10/10 recommendation from me!

I don't do reviews often, but I personally prioritize strong storytelling over everything else... though as a professor of animated film, I'm a sucker for strong technical execution, too! The media included on this list were not necessarily released in 2024, either-- I personally experienced them for the first time this year.

Best Shows:

These pieces of media are exemplars of storytelling and objectively excellent technical execution; I'd recommend them to most.

Blue Eye Samurai was captivating from start to finish-- so much so that I watched it three times all the way through! I'm not one to re-watch shows, but this was a true gem. The style didn't draw me in at first, and I'm not a huge fan of the genre, but the tight writing, clear themes, and artistic execution make this a much-watch for me.

Unsurprisingly, Fortiche's Arcane makes the list. Not only did the team do a great job of creating an immersive world and compelling characters, but the art direction on this show has been phenomenally influential in the animation world. Everything-- from the editing, camerawork, animation, voice acting, foley-work, score, and pacing-- is excellent. I use sections of this show in my Master's level courses because the use of film theory is so consistent and well executed!

Pluto is a beautifully animated adaptation of the 2003 Award-Winning Manga by the same name that discusses the horrors and aftermath of war through the lens of a futuristic sci-fi murder-mystery. Though it gets off to a slow start-- demanding a three episode investment before it truly has you hooked-- its beautiful visuals and compelling narrative act as a wonderful tribute to a touching and poignant story.

Best Games:

Big Mode's Animal Well is the indie studio's debut title, and as someone who loves story, this game... has none. It's on this list because despite my aversion to story-light games, I could not put it down. It's a reasonably priced, beautifully art-directed puzzler that rewards exploration and experimentation in a way that few modern games do.

Atlus's Persona 4: Golden has my whole heart. I played Persona 5, enjoyed it, but picked up Persona 4 while on vacation. It is, by far, my favorite Persona game. You arrive in a small, rural town on the heels of a gruesome murder and slowly collected a group of misfit teenagers who are truly struggling to figure out who they are. Every character feels well-rounded, and at over 150 hrs of playtime, this dated title-- available on Switch-- is worth every penny, even in 2024.

Hiding Spot's Beacon Pines is a touching story about a kid slowly unraveling the dark history of his hometown. Though it's a short experience, the mechanics offer a fun and unique twist on the visual novel genre that had me coming back for more over and over again! The art is adorable, the music is sweet, and the story is a compelling delight that gives the player the convincing illusion of agency.

[magicalmanestudio]

a comprehensive guide for watching generation 1 of my little pony 🐴

when i was getting into generation 1 (link for yt playlist) the watching order was super confusing and led me to take longer to finish the show than I would have liked.

ALSO!! i loved all the little ponies so i will include the names for your help in identifying which pony is in which series!

1. Rescue At Midnight Castle (Pilot)

Featuring Firefly, Applejack, Twilight, Baby Ember, Bubbles, Moondancer, Bow Tie, Glory, Cotton Candy and Medley as well as Spike and Megan. It's important to remember the majority of the ponies featured in this short film DO NOT appear again in the other specials or the show - however this is the first appearance of Spike and Megan!!! The sea ponies are also introduced with their catchy theme music! Fun fact, if you notice an anime-esque style to the animation that would be because Toei Animation helped animate this special!

2. Escape From Catrina

Featuring an entirely new set of ponies! And this time much more baby ponies! Join Cotton Candy, Baby Cotton Candy, Sundance, Posey, Lickety-Split, Sky Dancer, Baby Surprise, Heart Throb, Baby Moondancer, Baby Glory, Sparkler, Powder and Starflower for a new adventure (of course with Spike and Megan too) This special introduces us to the Bushwoolies! Posey, Sundance, Heart Throb and Lickety Split were the only ponies to reappear in the series.

3. My Little Pony The Movie

The only full length feature film in the franchise. Did you know Danny Devito voice acts in this movie? He plays the Grundle King! The ponies in this movie are Lickety-Split, Buttons, Lofty, North Star, Gusty, Sundance, Magic Star, Fizzy, Baby Sundance, Sweet Stuff, Wind Whistler, Baby Lickety-Split, Rosedust, Shady and Baby Lofty! We also get to see the mysterious Moochick for the first time, as well as Megan's siblings Danny and Molly.

4. My Little Pony N Friends (Season 1 + 2)

Now finally the TV show! Each episode is 11 minutes in length and arc's are seperated into multiple episodes with the longest being The End of Flutter Valley with 11! Parts! (wow) There are many more types of ponies in the TV series with the regular unicorns, pegasi, and earth ponies AND the return of sea ponies as well as new types: flutter ponies, big brother ponies, baby ponies (first tooth + newborn twins) and princess ponies!!!

Here's a big list of all the names of the ponies that appear in this organized by species!

Unicorns: Buttons, Fizzy, Galaxy, Baby Gusty/Gusty, Mimic, Baby Ribbon/Ribbon, and Starflower.

Pegasi: Baby Heart Throb/Heart Throb, Locket, Baby/Baby Lofty, Masquerade, Baby North Star/North Star, Paradise, Twilight, Baby Surprise/Surprise, Whizzer, and Wind Whistler.

Earth Ponies: Cherries Jubilee, Cupcake, Gingerbread, Baby Lickety-Split/Lickety-Split, Posey, Scoops, Baby Shady/Shady, Truly, and Sweet Stuff.

Flutter Ponies: Forget-Me-Not, Honeysuckle, Lily, Morning Glory, Peach Blossom and Rosedust.

Sea Ponies: Beachcomber, Ripple, Sealight, Seashimmer, Seawinkle, Surf Rider, Sun Shower, Water Lily and Wave Dancer.

Big Brother Ponies: 4-Speed, Score, Salty, Slugger, Steamer and Tex.

Baby Ponies: Baby Cuddles, Baby Bouncy, Baby Fifi, Baby Half-Note, Baby Milkweed, Baby Quackers, Baby Sleepy-Pie, Baby Snookums, Baby Tic-Tac-Toe, Baby Tiddlywinks and Baby Tumbleweed.

Princess Ponies: Princess Primrose, Princess Royal Blue, Princess Serena, Princess Sparkle, Princess Starburst and Princess Tiffany.

hope this was helpful + happy watching!!!!

[kingsonne-zedecks]

It's Here!

Cradle Animation Trailer

The trailer for the upcoming animation of the bestselling novel series Cradle, by Will Wight, produced by Jay Oliva at Lex + Otis Animation Studio has been released at last!

Cradle

Cradle is an amazing fantasy series by author Will Wight that reached its conclusion with the publishing of Book 12: Waybound, in 2023. Cradle is a western interpretation of the Xianxia genre, which can be described as "Magical Martial Arts."

As shown in the trailer, Cradle follows the journey of Wei Shi Lindon as he starts a journey of growth rather than remaining the weak Unsouled that his Clan has labeled him.

Fans of Naruto, Demon Slayer, Dragon Ball, Avatar the Last Airbender and more will all find elements from the stories they love in Cradle.

Lex + Otis Animation Studio

Cradle is being animated by Jay Oliva and his studio, Lex and Otis. If you don't recognize the name, you'll probably recognize some of his past work, particularly his work with DC Animations in general and Batman in specific.

His studio is equally impressive, and released a bit of a showcase of some of their more recent work that you can see here (in addition to the Cradle teaser, you did already watch that a couple of times right?)

The Cradle animation is a passion project for Jay, who loved the books so much that he reached out to Will to make sure that he had the chance to see them brought to the screen.

The Cast

The upcoming animation already has a fantastic cast announced, with more to come. The following have already been confirmed for the project.

Travis Baldree

Phil Lamarr

Steve Blum

Matt Mercer

Morla Gorrondona

Baraka May

Sumalee Montano

Maxine Phoenix

Matt Yang King

Where/When/How Can I Watch?

Will and Jay have really put the Tease in Teaser, as we'll have to live off of replaying the trailer and reading the books for the time being. But more is to come, and announcements will continue to be made as the project continues.

For those who have not been involved in the project yet, a brief explanation to get up to speed.

When Jay reached out to Will about the possibility of animating Cradle, Will decided to personally fund this trailer that they could then take to Netflix and Amazon and the likes to pitch the show. Then, together, they asked how much further they might be able to go, and so they reached out to the fans with a Kickstarter that ended up raising 1.25 million dollars.

Animation is expensive, especially when you choose to only work with studios that treat their employees well, so Will and Jay had to be smart with the money. The upcoming animation will be released to the fans as a thank you for our support in making this a reality, but it's real strength will be in supporting Will and Jay's original plan.

The 80-90 minute animatic that has been funded will be complete in mid to late 2025. With that, the teaser trailer, and the fans reactions in hand, Will and Jay will be able to approach platforms such as Netflix, Amazon, and Apple to pitch a full Cradle Animation.

Animatic?

Yes, Animatic. While the trailer is fully colored and animated, the final result of the kickstarted animation will not be. Here is a sample of the style of animation we will be getting next year

This particular animatic is taken from the website of Tiger Animation, which is the South Korean studio that Lex + Otis partnered with for the Cradle Teaser and many of their other projects.

The animatic we get will be fully voice acted and scored, and the only step remaining to turn it into full animation is the funding required to send it off to Tiger Animation. Tiger Animation has an amazing portfolio as well, including Avatar the Last Airbender, Castlevania, and a large number of both Marvel and DC Animations.

Animation Structure

The 80-90 minute animatic will be released as a standalone product and will cover the contents of the first two books of the Cradle Series, Unsouled and Soulsmith regardless of any potential contracts with distribution platforms like Netflix or Amazon.

If/When a platform picks up Cradle and decides to fund the full animation, the show will follow a fairly standard 22 minute episode format. As such the animatic will also serve as the first four episodes of season 1 of the show.

This was a creative decision made by Will and Jay as part of the adaptation process. A number of the fan-favorite characters are introduced in books two and three, and its fairly unanimous that any fan that wasn't hooked immediately, was hooked by the third book, Blackflame.

That is to say, that, while the first two books will only receive two episodes each, this will not be the pace the rest of the show follows. The total number of episodes per season is dependent on funding, but the goal is currently to take 4 season to tell the story of Cradle.

So What Now?

Well. Now we wait. But in the meantime, share the information about Cradle, watch the trailer, show it to your friends and family, read the books if you haven't already, check out the wonderful audiobooks narrated by Travis Baldree if you prefer listening, join us on reddit and discord to talk about things.

In addition to just exposing more people to a wonderful story, each bit of interaction with Cradle is another piece of evidence to show the streaming platforms and prove that a Cradle animation is worth the investment.

[classicanalyzer]

Sonic 3 - Quick Review

Sonic 3 is simply peak. The movie really unleashes the full potential of the Sonic film series. It was a great movie to close out the year 2024.

The comedy and the emotions in this film are hilarious and impactful respectively. Seriously, the amount of times I laughed and chuckled at the movie is too much to count. But God, when the serious scenes kick in, they kick in hard. Maria's death still hits hard. Sonic's rage and Tom's critical condition also really sell the dark nature of this movie.

Shadow in this movie was portrayed well. You can feel the grief and tragedy that the character felt losing Maria and being locked up for 50 years. Keanu Reeves did an amazing job voicing the character.

Ivo is a riot in this movie. You know Gerald is insane when Ivo of all people is horrified by the prospect of the world being destroyed. His last message to Stone is really heartwarming. Agent Stone is the goat. I hope we get to see him in the future.

I really love how Gerald Robotnik is shown to be a suicidal genocidal lunatic like in the game which makes every scene before his reveal in the third act take on a whole different meaning. When he drops the act and shows what he is, it's pretty chilling to see what type of person he is under the guise of comedy.

I love how the animated end credit sequences are done in 3D as a nod to how this movie takes heavy inspiration from Sonic Adventure 2.

When Live And Learn played with Super Sonic and Shadow heading towards the Eclipse Cannon, that was one of the most iconic movie moments of 2024 for me. The score in general was great in this movie. Also, I think Maria was playing Live and Learn on the guitar.

I am so fucking hyped for Sonic 4 with an army of Metal Sonics and Amy Rose.

This movie is amazing!

"The last time I sat beneath stars like this... I was with her. I felt this pain for so long, it's all I know." Shadow

"When I lost Longnclaw, I felt the same way." Sonic

"Did your pain eventually go away?" Shadow

"No. But in time, I learned that there was something even more powerful than pain: the love we felt for each other. That's what you need to hold onto, Shadow. Maria might be gone, but your love for her will always remain." Sonic

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Hello! A question for you (and Vinelle, if she has opinions too) - have you read/watched How to Train Your Dragon and do you have any opinions? I suspect you'd both enjoy the books much more, they have a lot more complexity and misery than the very Hollywood-ified movies and tv series. If you haven't read the books by Cressida Cowell, I highly recommend them (and maybe to start with the 2nd book bc the first book is a bit simpler and less miserable than the rest of the series).

I've watched the first and second film, albeit it's been a while, not sure if @therealvinelle has.

Opinions

I enjoyed the first film a lot. It's a very wholesome film with a great score, great animation, great voice acting, and well it became this whole iconic thing for a reason. We're still talking about it and they're now doing a live action (which looks... from the trailer... like a frame by frame remake but with people and CGI so... that's something).

It was a really enjoyable movie.

Second film was still decent, but not as good as the first but such is the way of sequels. I can't say why it was more meh to me, I'd have to rewatch it, but it just didn't pack as much of a punch.

Never saw the third one so can't speak to it.

Didn't even know there was a TV series.

The Books

Haven't read the books and if I'm being honest, I'm probably not likely to. I'm sure they're great and people love them, but given what I have heard it's just not something I'd probably get into/let alone something I'll get into for multiple books.

That, and I'm too completionist to ever skip even the bad pilot book. It's simply not in my nature.

Thanks for the recommendation but, yeah, probably not going to happen.

An Aside

... You guys know I'm not always doom and gloom, yes? I do enjoy things that aren't Russian novels on occasion. It's just that stuff doesn't really get asked about on the blog/I don't have as much to say besides boring things like "I liked it" and "it was a fun thing".

You, @therealvinelle?

[shorthaltsjester]

tlovm interviews with sam and travis constantly talking about wanting to shock campaign viewers. if you are shocking people who have spent 500 hours with the characters. maybe that isn't strong writing. it can be fun entertainment don't get me wrong. but not what i'd call strong writing. and i'm not saying that the audience knows the characters or the world better than the creators, but I am saying that the way the tlovm team talks about shock/surprise-based choices in the writers room isn't particularly heartening or indicative of character-focused writing. which yk i get the suspicion that writing isn't the top of the priority for tlovm and that's up to them. the animation is stunning, the score is beautiful, the voice acting is obviously phenomenal. this is just me being sad that tlovm is not something I would still have any interest in at all if i was not already in love with the characters.

[naffeclipse]

Apex Polarity Personality Quiz

This is a small little thing for fun I made in order to have an excuse to make more things for Apex Polarity and its wide aurora of AUs and variations on setting and Y/Ns.

1. Claws, teeth, ravenous appetite, equally as devouring gaze.

To you these qualities describe -

A. A dangerous wild animal

B. Potential husband

C. The stalker who keeps leaving dead things at your address

D. All of the above

E. Are you in danger?

F. Circle if you need help

G. Yes

2. What you look for most in a partner

A. Obsessive feral devotion

B. Good with kids

C. Humble

D. Passionate

E. Good hunter

F. Bear trap level cuddler

G. Serial mental note taker on everything you say and do

H. Overprotective to a fault, perhaps very much at a fault.

3. Your favorite pastime.

A. Immersion in nature and being out in the wilderness

B. A cold dip in the sea

C. Basking in the sun

D. Acting like you're a dolphin

E. Curling up in a warm space

F. Spending quality time with your loved ones

G. The joys of parenthood

4. Your preferred superpower (totally not escape methods)

A. Teleportation

B. Super speed

C. Invisibility

D. Shapeshifting

5. Your favorite animal/animal you resonate with the most

A. Arctic fox, phantomlike and swift, hiding behind snowdrifts when danger stirs. Your instinct is to avoid the grip of vices no matter how tempting, except perhaps if your stomach is involved.

B. Penguin, despite the cold weather and unforgiving ice, you are soft at your epicenter, from inside it radiates, and like a mirror you are equally as besotted by that which is as innocent and gentle.

C. Beluga, spun sweet and melodic, on your voice is carried the play of heartstrings like the gentle waver of quivering arctic waters and dancing sunlight. You sing and although it is fearless, the depths do not murmur in vain.

D. Seal, eccentric and woven into everything you do, you tend to stumble over your nerves but when in your element you are freed from all anxieties. The world may have taught you caution but In time you may learn to embody this grace wholly.

E. Narwhal, reclusive but mystical at the same time, perilously shy, and gentle but possessing fierce zeal in dire situations. Unfortunately, your likeness to a unicorn is reflected in others and far from many intentions are pure.

6. What is the most valuable in your eyes

A. Sentimental things even long years after they've run dry of their practical use

B. Shiny objects like rocks and trinkets

C. Natural wonders and displays of the world's phenomena

D. Food and guaranteed survival

E. Companionship

Score

Count how many like numbers you get (aka, all 4s, 2s, etc) and group them to find how many you got each. The highest quantity number is the winner.

(Important!) - Some answers can have multiple numbers assigned to them, in order of most indicative to least. Add these as well, their order has no meaning or weight on the score itself unless a tie occurs.

Further Explanation Guide

- Totaling - Count the amount of each number separately to see which one got the highest amount, if you get 7 4s, 2 3s, 4 1s and 6 2s, 4 is the winning number because there are the most 4s.

Example - Answered D on 1, D has the numbers 1, 4, and 3. Therefore you would add each a 1, 4 and 3 to the pool of numbers for your result.

- Ties - If you get a tie you use the highest favor number of each answer to settle it, or you can enjoy your multiple results. The most favored number is always the first listed.

Answer Guide

- 1. Claws, teeth, ravenous appetite, equally as devouring gaze. To you these qualities describe -

A - 4, 3 | B - 3, 4 | C - 2, 1, 4 | D - 1, 4, 3

E - 4, 1, 2 | F - 1, 2, 4 | G - 4, 3

- 2. What you look for most in a partner

A - 4 | B - 3, 1, 4, 2 | C - 3, 2, 4 | D - 4, 1

E - 3, 1, 2 | F - 3, 2 | G - 4, 1 | H - 2, 1, 3

- 3. Your favorite pastime

A - 4, 3, 1, 2 | B - 3, 2 | C - 2 | D - 3, 1

E - 4, 2, 3 | F - 3 | G - 3

- 4. Your preferred superpower (totally not escape methods)

A - 4 | B - 3 | C - 2 | D - 1

- 5. Your favorite animal/animal you resonate with the most

A - 1 | B - 3 | C - 1, 2| D - 2 | E - 4, 1

- 6. What is the most valuable in your eyes

A - 4, 3 | B - 1, 3 | C - 4 | D - 1, 2, 3 | E - 3, 2, 4

Results

📷 Polar Y/N - Mostly 4s

🐧 Harpy Y/N - Mostly 3s

🦭 Selkie Y/N - Mostly 2s

🧜 Siren Y/N - Mostly 1s

Let me know if anything felt inaccurate or incorrect. I tried my best while still not reading much of AP because of mental health issues making it really too taxing to read a lot like as in books or fanfiction etc. Most of this is based on the various AU posts for Apex Polarity. You can adjust stuff if you feel like it doesn't fit.

[https-hunter]

I am lucky enough that Cinemark approached my college’s animation department with the offer to attend an advanced screening of the first 35 minutes of Inside Out 2.

I loved it.

The original Inside Out came out when I was eleven and I’ve adored it since, so this was a really cool opportunity as a longtime fan and current animator.

So here’s a description of what goes on in the first half hour & some of my thoughts.

Massive spoilers for Inside Out 2 below the cut!!

The movie starts out with Riley’s hockey game. Each one of the five main emotions takes a turn at the wheel during the game. Joy get Riley excited, Anger gives her the aggression she needs on the ice, Fear reminds her to put her mouth guard in, Disgust makes it realize that it’s not hers, and Sadness takes over when Riley is given a penalty.

During her time in the penalty box, the emotions reflect on what Riley has been up to lately. She turned 13, got braces, started growing, and has two best friends she plays hockey with, Grace and Bree. We see the personality islands and it’s noted that Friendship Island is majorly overshadowing Family Island. We’re also introduced to Riley’s sense of self, which is made up of affirmations she has for herself after different memories are added to it (i.e.: “I’m a good friend” “I’m a good person, etc.). It is comprised of different strings that say the affirmation when they are strung. Joy also reveals a machine she has that sends memories to the back of the head, which I guess is like repressed memories.

When she gets out of the penalty box, Riley, Grace, and Bree score a winning goal and are approached by the local high school’s hockey coach. She invites the three of them to hockey camp that weekend, to which they all immediately accept.

The night before camp, the emotions are all in bed. I need to add that Joy & Sadness share a bunk, Anger is by himself as he punches the air, and Disgust & Fear bunk together. Sadness & Joy hear an odd sound and they find the puberty button going off, no matter what they do to stop it. A construction crew comes in & basically makes a mess of headquarters.

The next day, Riley wakes up and she isn’t ready for hockey camp. When her mom asks why she isn’t packed, Anger responds, but Riley overreacts even though he barely touched the console. Sadness and Disgust try it, but Riley’s just having mood swings now and they find the console to be way more sensitive than it used to be. They decide to leave it alone unless they absolutely have to use it.

Cut to the car ride to hockey camp. Riley is telling Grace & Bree how excited she is to play hockey together in high school. Disgust instantly flags a look Bree gave her and Bree’s own Disgust flags Riley’s look back. Grace blurts out that she and Bree are going to different high schools and Riley tries to hold it together until she’s out of the car. The emotions literally have to hold Sadness back 😭

This is where the new emotions show up. We meet Anxiety (I tried to stay normal over hearing Maya Hawke), Envy (she’s voiced by Ayo Edebiri !!), Embarrassment, and Ennui (Joy nicknames him “wee-wee”). We also later meet Nostalgia, a sweet old lady emotion, but Anxiety tells her she’s ten years too early. Anxiety explains her role in things and there’s a joke about how Fear thinks he’s going to get along really well with her. The new emotions all take the wheel, especially when Riley is trying to introduce herself to Val, a cool hockey player at the high school she’ll be attending. Anxiety, out of fear for Riley’s social future, has Riley follow Val and she meets some other hockey players. They all think she’s from Michigan and not Minnesota, but she just rolls with it.

When the girls are all ready for practice in the locker room, Riley & her friends act really immature while the coach is trying to talk. Joy tries to make things better, but Riley laughs at a joke one of her friends made at the wrong time. Coach makes everyone skate lines (I think?) as punishment.

Riley overhears some of the high school players talking about her and how immature she is. When Val is alone, Anxiety makes a plan and Riley approaches her and apologizes for getting everyone punished. Val tells her that it’s okay and that the coach being hard on her means that she’s under her radar, and that it’s a good thing.

Val tells her that they might be on the same team when they split into groups. This causes a divide between Joy and Anxiety. Joy thinks that Riley should stay with her current friends, while Anxiety thinks she should stick with Val. Riley does end up choosing Val’s team and we get a confused look from Grace and Bree.

In Riley’s head, Anxiety carries out phase two of her plan. She tells the older emotions that they’re not needed anymore and literally bottles them up. They’re sent to the Vault, which is a, well, vault that holds Riley’s deepest secrets.

In here we meet Bloofy, a Dora the Explorer/Mickey Mouse Clubhouse-style cartoon character whose secret is that Riley still enjoys the show. We also meet Lance, a video game character Riley has a crush on, whose only defense move is rolling into a ball and moving forward. There’s also Riley’s deepest secret, but he doesn’t really talk. I just have to nerd out over the different animation styles here. Lance, while being 3D, is so pixelated and made to look like an anime-style video game character. Bloofy is fully 2D animated. You had all these animation students in the audience LOVING this scene.

Riley’s deepest secret breaks the jar the emotions are bottled up in. Bloofy uses what is clearly supposed to be the Mystery Mousekatool from Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and they’re given three tool options: a tomato, something else I don’t remember, and dynamite. They use the dynamite and blow the door open. I need you guys to know that Lance cannot leave at first because he keeps walking into the wall. And then he just Riley’s secret decides to stay. The cops/guards in Riley’s mind catch them at first, but for reasons that I can’t really remember, they all end up incapacitated (handcuffs on their feet, slipped on coffee, etc.).

The emotions begin their journey to get back to headquarters and take Riley back from Anxiety’s plan.

I think the new emotions will be really good for Riley. I was not expecting Anxiety to become an antagonist, though! I love the new ways they’ve explained different parts of the mind, like the sense of self and repressed memories. The visuals are, of course, gorgeous and the story captures the sheer horror that is being 13.

I really love it so far. I’m beyond thrilled that I had this opportunity, and now I have an Inside Out 2 tote bag. I can’t wait to see the rest of it in June.

[russenoire]

i just finished fullmetal alchemist 2003...

and i have words about this.

while both series have lovely scores, courtesy of michiru ooshima here and akira senju for FMAB, FMAB's OPs and EPs are almost all far too good to skip, ever. (if i have to hear pornograffiti's 'melissa' one more time, i will scream.) both series rely pretty heavily on slapstick humor to leaven the surrounding darkness, and the massive chip on edward's shoulder about his height, grating in brotherhood, also wears on my patience here.

i liked this story's approach to alchemy and how it works. but the creators' vision of homunculi here, where each homunculus arises as a result of a single alchemist's hubris and becomes their sin to answer for? i prefer it a little more than the admittedly more cohesive explanation of a single being splitting off aspects of himself.

we get to spend more time with scar and maes hughes (my favorite character; i adore his hazel eyes in this adaptation and hearing the late keiji fujiwara's silky pipes voice him twice is a joy). i still can't decide which kimblee i like best.

both fullmetals are examples of satisfyingly meaty storytelling and full of awesome animation. i suspect a dislike of canon divergence behind a lot of the hate for the first series, and a preference for deeper character study and pathos behind hate for the second.

i'm usually wary of adaptations continuing after creators run out of source material myself, but the story shō aikawa and seiji mizushima constructed out of whole cloth offers up a feast of philosophy, character study, mindfuckery and intricate military-political intrigue. and for the most part, it holds up under its own weight.

here scieszka, winry and rose are more instrumental to the story's plot. dante the cursed shapeshifting genius alchemist is a brilliant addition to the story, as is archer (more on him below). lust becomes an almost sympathetic character, what with having loved and lost multiple times as she manipulates mankind into seeking knowledge while being only a tool herself. alphonse is a formidable alchemist and a prodigy in his own right. here that's not just hinted at; both boys could have passed the state alchemist exam with ease. i loved seeing the elric brothers use alchemy to squabble with each other, not just fists and limbs. and edward... he's a double amputee, but his prosthetic limbs work well enough to rid him of any real functional impairment (bless winry's fantastic engineering!). i'm not going to get into the fucked-up implications of that in this post, but i will say that FMA '03 makes his disability much clearer. we see how painful attaching his automail limbs is, repeatedly. a character pries them off of him at one point and he's almost helpless until he can get them back. it's now obvious why he wears gloves most of the time.

the brutality and pervasive racism of the military dictatorship running amestris is given far more focus here. (edward himself gets checked on his own racist assumptions quite a few times.) we see more of the armed forces in the act of genocide, not just flashbacks in haunted soldier memories. officers openly call people savages; kimblee is sent in as an exterminator because of his amorality and solipsism; shou tucker's sick research is allowed to continue, even though the military already has a more efficient method to make chimerae. while making the situation the elric brothers left behind in liore worse, the shady lt col archer sustains what would have been fatal wounds. he gets rebuilt into some sort of robocop hybrid sentient killing machine with no qualms about gunning down his own men. rose is traumatized to mutism raped by the military for having led a rebellion and still leads her people.

whether this feels heavy-handed to you may depend on your tolerance for darkness and cognitive dissonance; i'm still processing how i feel about it. both takes on arakawa-sensei's story present their main and supporting cast as capable of cruelty and kindness, but FMA '03 foregrounds that evil a bit more alongside the good. it made the kindness less palatable for me, in a good way.

also i spoiled myself a bit by watching the conqueror of shamballa before finishing this series. when i learned that mizushima-san is a huge fan of hideaki anno's work, FMA '03's 'inconclusive' ending made even more sense.