#The only thing that's keeping me from doing that right now is the fact that this person who is slowly making things better for me DOES CARE

[purinfelix]

Franco Colapinto, where his girlfriend gets jealous of his interviews, so she does everything to make him jealous in return.

a taste of his own medicine ⋆.ೃ࿔*･- franco colapinto

summary: you've had enough of your boyfriend's shameless flirting during interviews, and hatch a plan to get back at him for it w/c : 1.3k

a/n: AAAA this is such a cute idea anon - i wrote a good chunk of this a while ago but only just finished the last bit today, thank u for the req and i hope u enjoy !! <333

You wondered if your boyfriend could feel the stone-cold glare you were giving the back of his head from your spot in the VIP lounge - though if he could, he surely wasn't doing anything about it.

Initially, there hadn't been any problems with keeping your relationship secret - in fact, it had been your idea for a number of reasons. You just didn't consider yourself ready to be swarmed and scrutinised by the media or have the title of 'F1 wag' bestowed upon you. It didn't feel right, if anything it felt like a disservice to boil down your relationship with Franco to something so sensationalized. Keeping it private seemed the best decision, at least for the time being. But now, the longer you watched your boyfriend shamelessly flirt with anyone who crossed his path, the more you grew to regret this decision.

You weren't by any means a jealous person by nature, but something about the fact that no one but you had any problem with this situation - and only because they didn't know about your relationship - irritated you. If only you could figure out a way to make Franco feel the same way you were. Just at that moment, as if by fate, you spotted a young-looking boy in a race suit walking casually past the lounge. His carefree walk, curly brown hair and boyish smile - bingo.

"Hey there," you called out, hopping up from the chair you were sitting in and walking over to the boy.

"Oh, hello," he replied, seemingly taken aback by being addressed by you.

"Sorry, it's just that I'm a little new to all of this and," you look him up and down, "you look like you know what you're doing, do you think you could show me around?"

He laughs shyly, hand rubbing the back of his nape. "Well, I mean, alright then, I'm Ollie by the way."

"Lovely to meet you, Ollie." You offer a girly giggle which you try your best not to cringe at as you follow the boy, who begins to walk around the nearest garage.

He begins to explain things, the process of getting ready to drive, the roles of different team members and the physics of the car itself - all of which you could care less about, but you nod earnestly regardless. Along the way, you even offer any mechanic or engineer who seems your age a friendly smile, and even a wink if they're particularly good-looking.

It's just your luck too that all of this is happening just close enough to the media hubs where your boyfriend has been stuck all afternoon. You try your best not to look too often over at him, not wanting to give away the true intentions of this mini tour you're scored for yourself. He doesn't seem to share the same sentiment though, based off of how many times you've caught him stealing glances at you, his eye following watchfully as you laugh and tease your impromptu tour guide.

"And so every element of car design has the purpose of making it as fast as possible, either through aerodynamics or by making everything lightweight," he continues to explain excitedly, and even though you're starting to feel dizzy from all the nodding you give him a quick one.

"Oh, wow!" You say, and before you know it you've landed yourself in the perfect position - within both earshot and line of vision of your boyfriend who seems to be wrapping up one of his last interviews for the night. Now, for the cherry on top.

You watch as Franco finishes saying his goodbyes to the last of the media crew, his eyes now searching the paddock for you. Knowing that he's looking at you, you throw your head back in laughter at nothing in particular and bring a hand up to graze Ollie's upper arm. Though you have his back to him you know your boyfriend well enough that when you feel a hand on your own shoulder mere seconds later, you aren't too shocked.

"Oh, hello Franco," you hum, feigning innocence. "Ollie here was just showing me around and keeping me company, isn't he the sweetest?"

"Very sweet." He grins through gritted teeth, though his strengthening grip on your shoulder says otherwise.

"No problem, oh but hey I forgot to show you just one more th-"

"Thanks, kid, but my girlfriend and I have got to get going."

Trying not to make it too obvious on your face how pleased you were that your plan had worked, you thanked Ollie once more before you felt Franco's grip sliding down your arm and intertwining his fingers with yours. Desperately, he dragged you off and away from your tour guide - who had a slightly confused expression painted on his face as he watched the two of you disappear into the Williams garage. You were amazed by how quickly your boyfriend was walking as he pulled you into his driver's room, shutting the door behind you quickly.

"What was that?" he huffed immediately, not giving you a second to say anything. You only smiled in response, watching his normally calm expression morph into one of frustrated confusion.

"I told you, Ollie was showing me around, you were busy with your interviews anyways," you decide to keep up the act of innocence, though you can tell he's not buying it.

"Bullshit, what sort of showing around involves touching him."

"I didn't think you were watching, those reporters seemed to keep you pretty occupied," you say in a sing-songy tone, throwing yourself down on the couch in his room. You wait for him to respond - something equally sarcastic or quippy, but when you turn to look at him you see him staring at the wall in front of him, eyes furrowed in confusion. Slowly, the cogs in his mind seem to start working as his expression slowly changes into one of realisation.

"You were jealous," he breathes out, turning to you with eyes wide and brows raised.

"Oh pfft- I wouldn't say jealous, bored now that might be more accurate but-" You're interrupted by him taking a seat on the couch next to you, face now painted with a smug look.

"You didn't like that I was talking to so many reporters, did you?" His teasing tone is enough to make your heart race a little, though you try your best to keep calm.

"I'm pretty sure you were doing a little more than talking babe, you were flirting!"

He looks at you with a slightly offended expression, "flirting?" It's almost as if he's just realising what he was doing.

"Uhm, duh."

"Did it really look like that?" His brows curve up into a pleading expression, "I didn't mean to, I swear!" You let out a soft chuckle watching his apologetic expression.

"It's fine baby, just try to be a little less friendly next time - I think your PR team would appreciate it anyway." He nods, scooting a little closer so that he can lay his head on your shoulder. There's a beat of silence before he speaks again.

"You were jealous," he hums, almost as if he's talking to himself.

"Wh- so were you! Poor Ollie is probably terrified of you now!"

"Whatever, he's a big boy, he'll live," he sighs, reaching for your hand and intertwining it in his "Plus, don't act like you're any better using that kid to get back at me."

"Hey, I had to do something before you walked out of that media room with a second girlfriend," you crossed your arms in annoyance, refusing to even look at him.

"You're cute when you're jealous," he laughs, before turning to peck at your jawline. Before you can stop you're melting into his touch, bringing a hand up to brush his curly hair away from his face. It might be a weak apology to some, but to you - to be here with him, in the privacy of his driver's room, away from Ollie, the reporters, and the rest of the world - it's more than enough.

taglist: (reply/send me an ask if you'd like to be added!)

@spreadyourwings-my-smiling-angel @alelo23 @scill-a @multifan-idk

[beefcakekinard]

[special thanks to james @louisferrignojr for the idea]

There's buzzing in his ear.

Tommy slaps his hand onto his bedside table and drags it across the top in search of his phone. He finds it – his eyes are too blurry from sleep to see the time or the caller ID, but the dark outside tells him it's ass o'clock, and the only reason to be getting a call is an emergency. He hopes he swipes the right way to accept and brings the phone up to his ear.

"H'llo?" he asks, or tries to, with how his mouth feels glued shut. There's panting on the other end, something- some wet sound.

"Hey, Tommy."

Evan's voice wakes him up faster than any call from the station would.

"E- Buck? Are you okay?"

There's choked laughter on the other end, a sigh. "Mmm, I'm real good, just- just right, in fact." His voice is low, dragging on the syllables. He cuts himself off with a moan.

Oh.

Tommy tries to rub the sleep from his eyes. "I'm gonna go."

"What," Evan goads, "don't you miss- miss the way I, I sound when you fuck me?" Evan’s breath hitches in Tommy's ear. "This is, isn't the piece of you I w-wanted to keep but – ah-" Evan cuts himself off. The next few seconds have Tommy digging his fingers into his own thigh to the sound of Evan's breathing.

"Do, do you think I sh-should have-" Evan's voice breaks, Tommy's fingers ache, "should have put your cock in the box I s-sent Eddie over with earlier?"

Then it clicks.

That stupid clone-a-willy, sitting as a gag gift in the back of Evan's closet until three months ago. When Evan started getting curious about taking more than one cock at a time. When Evan, grinning wickedly, said hold that thought and dove off his bed. It made Tommy laugh at the time. He's not laughing now.

"Buck-"

"You don't call me that."

The vehemence is unexpected, but followed by more heavy breathing. There's a squelch in the background that Tommy can place, now, and he's going to leave bruises on his own leg if he grips any tighter. He focuses on it, the pain, purposefully dragging his attention away from how his cock aches in a decidedly different way.

Evan moans – satisfied, the way he does, did, when Tommy really focused in on his prostate. "You- god, Tommy, you feel so good."

Tommy can feel his resolve weakening like it's a physical thing. "Are you- have you been smoking, or-"

Evan laughs and Tommy feels it slip down his spine. "God. I had- had a couple drinks, dad. Or- sorry, daddy."

Tommy's resolve is all but a memory. He shoves his hand into his boxers and wraps his hand around his cock. It's a little unpleasantly dry, the friction dragging just a little too uncomfortably, but now that he has himself in hand, he doesn't have anywhere near the willpower to pull away, even for just a moment.

"Oh," Evan groans, and the sound is like the lick of a flame in Tommy's gut. "You- you touching yourself, daddy? Remembering what it, fuck, feels like to fuck me?"

Tommy squeezes his hand, tight, tighter, like the memory of the clutch of Evan's body around him. He takes long, hard pulls of his cock, squeezing himself at the tip to help slick the way little by little. It makes him think of how much Evan always leaks – the firehose, he always joked – like there's so much of him to give he's just welling up with it.

"What are you doing? You bouncing on it?" he asks, a man possessed. "Or are you greedy? Holding me to your prostate, using me to make yourself feel good?"

"Fuck," Evan cries out. His breathing gets sharper, shallower, faster. "Daddy, please-"

Tommy's hand races itself up and down his dick and his blood thrums in time with the sounds spilling from Evan's mouth into his ear. "Yeah, yeah, come on, you can get there, come on Evan-"

Evan whines and it vanishes into a groan as he comes, Tommy knows he's coming, and knowing that he brought Evan there has him grunting into his phone's microphone, has him spilling against his fist, into his boxers. Pleasure has never felt so sharp-edged.

Tommy breathes into the phone and relishes the sound of Evan doing the same. The moment stretches, bends the way it always does this time of night. He opens his mouth to speak.

The line clicks dead.

Tommy's left in the dark, his hand in his boxers, spunk drying on his skin.

He throws his phone to the floor.

[auclairedetoru]

“This has been y/n and Satoru, thank you so much for watching, bye!”

The moment they reached the greenroom, y/n's smile drops. God, her cheeks hurt, nobody talks about how hard it is to fake a smile all day, it's like a workout for your face except you gain nothing at the end.

Her co-star walks in behind her, a cocky smile on his face. If she was him she would get tired of herself. How can someone be so egoistic? He loves himself more than his own mother loves him. Every second she's in his presence, she feels herself losing brain cells and getting gray hair, and as much as she loves silver locks on other women, she does not want the cause of it to be Gojo Satoru.

“Great job today, everyone! Y/n you could've been a little more cheerful toda-”

“Shut the fuck up.”

She plops down on the sofa and rests her head against the back of it. They still have one more interview left to do, so she's forced to tolerate that dumbass for a couple more hours, and it's a recorded one so she has to pretend she likes him too.

Why did she choose to become an actress again?

Right, childhood dream, worked hard for it, blah blah blah.

“Whoa! Careful there, tiger! Someone might be filming and you don't want to ruin the season before it even starts.” Gojo smirks, eyes glinting with mischief as he continues to push her buttons.

The people in charge decided to promote the filming of the new season of their show to remind people of it and get them excited, not that anyone was able to forget the last two seasons. According to the statistics, people love a slow burn story, especially when it stretches over multiple seasons. Yes, that does mean y/n has been stuck with Gojo as her co-star for three years now, as known as the longest three years of her life. Everyone around her tells her that time is passing by too fast, but it's been the opposite for her.

She's dreading this season the most. It might be the last, but it means the story will finally reach its long-awaited climax, which means her character and Gojo's will become more than friendly.

She doesn't even want to think about it.

“Leave her alone, Satoru. You still have one interview left.” his manager scolded him making the bright blue eyed man pout like a four year old not getting the candy he wanted.

The fact Gojo and y/n can't stand each other is something known only between them and their close staff, not even the director and producers know that the "chemistry" between them is something they make up on the spot and doesn't come naturally at all. They're surprised no one has figured out they don't like each other in any way, but y/n takes that as a compliment because it means that she's a really good actress who has perfected her craft and is able to fake getting along with a menace like him.

After touch ups, she goes to where the interview is being held, greeting the staff on her way and telling them she's excited to be working with them. Gojo smirks at her from his seat as she makes her way to sit on hers next to him. She mirrored him to keep up with the "we're best friends behind the scenes" thing they somehow built for themselves.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Can't a man admire his friend and co-star?” he teases, milking the hell out of the act they put on for the camera. Y/n wanted to roll her eyes but instead she forces out a laugh and takes her seat.

She ignores the way her heart flutters at his words. No need to focus on that.

A few months into filming...

“Alright, everyone!” the director calls out as he claps his hands, “Cameras rolling, sound is up, let's do this.”

Ah yes, the most important scene of the entire franchise. The first kiss scene. This is what the show has been leading up to, this is the moment everyone has been waiting for, this is the thing y/n has been looking forward to the least, in fact, she has not been looking forward to it at all, she wishes it wouldn't happen.

The scene takes place at her character's apartment, a place the set design team has made so cozy looking she wishes she could curl up and take a nap on the couch. Gojo's character is her coworker and he's coming to check on her because she disappeared from the office party after seeing him flirt with someone. That's when she confesses that she's been pinning over him for years and he confesses back before pulling her into a kiss.

“Okay you two,” the director looks at them, “not to put you in any pressure, but this is the most important scene of the entire show. All your hard work has led up to this moment. Satoru, you're the one leading the kiss, remember that she's very vulnerable and heartbroken, so you need to be gentle and soft, she's the person you love most so you're gonna handle her with the most care. Alright? Here we go!”

The apartment door closes between y/n and Gojo as the clapper loader steps in and holds the slate in front of the camera, “episode 11, scene 45, take 1!” they call out before snapping the clapper shut and stepping back.

The director pauses, glancing around one more time to make sure everyone is ready.

"And... Action!”

Y/n steps into character and hesitantly opens the door. Her expression shifts to shock as she sees Gojo standing across from her, hair and clothes disheveled. “What are you doing here?” her voice is a mix between surprise and hurt, just as the script calls for and just as they rehearsed. Gojo's eyes soften, exactly how he was instructed.

Yes, she can't stand him, but that doesn't mean she won't admit that he's really good at his job. He's not one of the most sought out actors for no reason.

“I was worried about you, you left so abruptly.” he says, letting his eyes dance all over her face only to catch her wet cheeks and red eyes, and no, it isn't makeup and fake tears, she spent half an hour before filming started watching "soldiers reuniting with their dogs" videos to get to that point.

He moves to cup her cheek, but just as scripted, she steps back, her expression flattering. She starts to remind herself of things that make her emotional to start tearing up, “I-I'm fine, you can leave.”

Gojo stares at her a bit longer than he's supposed to, but she blames it on his love to suddenly improve, and not that he's admiring her or anything, not like she wants him to admire her, that would be crazy on her part.

"You don't have to hide from me," he says with the same soft tone.

She tries to hold back the tears to keep up the strong and always optimistic personality her character is known for, and after a moment she allows a couple to flow down her cheeks. Gojo's face morphs into a concerned expression.

“I don't like seeing you with someone else,” she mumbles, her voice breaking with every word that slips out of her lips, “it hurts me, right here,” she taps on her chest with a shaky hand.

Gojo's eyes widen to feign surprise, a perfect mix of confusion and disbelief on his face, playing the oblivious character to perfection, “you... You like me?”

“For the longest time,” she sniffs, her voice thick with emotion as she starts opening up, “I held back, I tried not to make it obvious, but i can't anymore.” She drops an octave to deliver the last line, showing as much vulnerability and pain as possible.

There’s a pause, and everyone on set is on the edge of their seat. They could feel the tension between them, the two playing their roles better than what everyone imagined from reading the script. Gojo goes to take a step closer, stopping half way.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, his voice shaking to show that his character is feeling nervous. The director looks intensely between the scene in front of him and the one on the screen, making sure that the intensity they feel in the room is accurate on camera to what's happening in real life.

It's her turn for her to be surprised, playing unsure and hesitant, not expecting those words to come out of his mouth, “w-what?”, her voice trembles as her eyes search his face like she's trying to find any uncertainties.

“can I kiss you? Please?”

Gojo takes the step forward. His voice is soft and his gaze holds hers, intense yet tender, leaving no doubt that his character has been lounging for this and wanting it for just as long if not longer than her.

Y/n takes a deep breath. This is it, she's about to kiss Gojo Satoru, the person she despises the most. She hopes it won't be awkward, the scene was going smoothly and the last thing she wants is a retake from the top, she also doesn't want to embarrass herself in front of the whole crew and become the topic of their gossip.

After a small pause, just as instructed by the director, she gives Gojo a small nod. Gently, and hesitantly, he cups her cheek as he brings his face closer to her. The nervousness on her face is mostly real and she doesn't know why she's feeling that way, she wants the scene to end already.

The moment their lips touch, something surged within Satoru and his free hand quickly grabs her waist to pull her closer to him. Did she always smell so... Devine? Why are her lips so soft? Is her lip balm candy flavoured? Why does she taste so sweet? Why can't he pull away from her?

The kiss is supposed to be gentle, a tender moment of affection, yet the way his hand was gripping the pajama top she's wearing betrays his character's intentions. But the way his thumb caresses her cheek is the opposite, grazing the warm skin softly like he's handling a little kitten. He knows he’s supposed to pull away now. He wants to. He needs to, for the sake of this scene. But something holds him there and it's making him not care about the script anymore.

It’s only when he feels a gentle squeeze on his arm that he finally pulls back. He looks down at Y/n, her lips slightly swollen from the kiss, her wide eyes bright with a spark that stirs something deep within him, making him want to lean down and kiss her again.

“cut !”

The pair jumped away from each other. They both forgot they were on a set, filming a show, and not in the comfort of their own homes.

“that was just... Wow,” the director shakes his head with a smile, “Satoru you went a little out of what I told you with the kiss, huh?”

“yeah, sorry,” he smirks with fake confidence, acting like his heart isn't beating faster than a racing car, “I just thought the moment needed that intensity, ya know? He's been waiting to kiss her for so long after all.”

“No I agree, you did the right thing. Go ahead and take five, everyone. This is one of those rare times when there's no need to do multiple takes, the first was perfect.”

Y/n lets out a breath she didn't realise she was holding and quickly leaves to go grab a water and get some fresh air. She can't believe what just happened. That was definitely not a normal kiss, it felt too real. What was Gojo thinking!? Why didn't he stick to the script and kept it short? And why did she like it so much? She's not supposed to! She's supposed to hate him and everything he does.

“Y/n? Can we talk in your trailer, please?”

Fuck... Please don't let that be Gojo, please let her ears be mistaken and it's not his voice asking her to talk in private, please-

She turns around, and it's him. He stands there, hands tucked into his pockets, looking a little... Shy? Since when does Gojo Satoru feel anything less than bold and confident? There's an unusual softness to his expression, one she only sees when he's playing his character, but without the little voice in the back of her head reminding her that he's just acting.

Despite not wanting to talk to him, she still nods and follows him to her trailer that wasn't parked far away from where they stood. She lets him in first and closes the door behind her to ensure no one can hear whatever they're about to talk about.

As they stood across from each other, Gojo's eyes dart everywhere except to her face, something he has never done before. His usual bravado is gone and replaced with an unusual hesitance. She watches him with a puzzled look on her face. Why is he acting so out of character? It's as if he's nervous to talk to her.

Eventually though, he opens his mouth.

“I apologize for going out of script during the kiss. I didn't plan it to happen and I'm sorry if it made you uncomfortable.”

Now he's apologising? Okay, something is definitely wrong. Gojo has never apologised to her in the three years they've been working together. She is starting to feel nervous herself.

“It's okay, really,” she crosses her arms across her chest, “like you explained to the director, it's what you felt the scene needed, and I respect you as an experienced actor to know what you're doing.”

“That wasn't my reason, though.”

Her eyes nearly bulge out of her skull. Huh?!

“what ?”

He takes a step closer to her, a look on his face she couldn't describe, “that's just a lie I made up on the spot. I felt a pull when our lips touched, I don't know what happened to me and it's driving me mad,” he runs a hand through his hair, a habit his manager told her he does when he's anxious, “I couldn't stop myself, so I just let whatever it is take over, but I still couldn't stop, I tried but I just couldn't pull away and I— I want to kiss you again! I want to kiss you right now!”

“Gojo, calm do-” her words fall on deaf ears.

“No! You don't understand! I want to kiss you, but you hate me! You can't even look at me without being disgusted, and I keep making it worse! I keep showing the worst version of myself around you and it makes you hate me more and-”

“Gojo! Stop!”

The look on his face is breaking her heart. He seems so desperate, struggling to put his feelings into words, but every attempt only makes him more anxious, his words stumbling over each other as he tries to make her understand.

“I don't hate you, Satoru”, his heart flutters at the sound of his first name coming out of her lips. Even in interviews, she always used his last name, this is the first time he hears her call him Satoru, “I hate how you act when we're together behind the scenes. You're always so sweet to everyone but I'm always the one you tease, and sometimes your teasing hurts.”

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. It's just- I've liked you, as a person, before we even started working together, and I treated you how I treated my close friends. I didn't realise I was overstepping boundaries.”

Why is it so easy to forgive him? It must be something to do with the blue I'm his eyes, it holds some sort of spell that makes everyone want to be on his good side.

“It's okay, as long as you own up to your mistakes and don't repeat them, I'm willing to see past it all and start new.”

A huge smile takes over his face, content with her answer. He is so happy, he's been wanting to do this for so long. He knew he wronged her and needed to apologise for his actions, but he never knew how to approach it.

Without warning her, he lifts her up in a hug. A squeal left her lips followed by a melodic laugh as she hears him thank her over and over again. She allows herself to enjoy the warmth of his hug. His fans didn't lie, he is really good at them.

He pulls away enough to look at her face without unwrapping his arms from around her, “Can we start new by allowing me to take you on a date? I promise I'll treat you like the princess you are.”

She feels her cheeks heating up with a blush as she nods, unable to hide the small, shy smile tugging at her lips. Gojo grins wider, his eyes lighting up with an unmistakable spark of excitement and something tender, “can I kiss you again? Please?”

She barely finishes nodding before his lips are on hers. He’s smiling into the kiss, unable to hide the joy bubbling up inside him as he realizes his newfound feelings are reciprocated.

And yeah, she did like him more than she let on. The small crush she had on him before they met definitely didn't disappear like she thought it did, instead it stayed hidden away and came back out when she felt his lips for the first time.

She never expected this nor planned on letting herself fall for The Gojo Satoru Charm™, but with him here, holding her close, and pressing a kiss filled with passion on her lips, she realises maybe, just maybe, she’s been wanting this all along.

The ending looked way better in my daydream lol. Hope y'all liked it still 💕

[cityofmeliora]

the Terzo autism post ♾️

this is kind of an analysis post and kind of a headcanon post.

Terzo reads as autistic to me, especially during his first two concerts when he was speaking without a script and trying to figure things out.

Terzo has that "trying new things is scary and i need to feel like i'm getting a good grade at social interactions and everything has to be done correctly or i'm going to explode" flavor of autism.

[AFTER PERFORMING PRIME MOVER] PAPA EMERITUS III: How am I doing so far? I've been studying these moves so you would feel comfortable. Are you comfortable? Linköping, Sweden (June 3, 2015)

Terzo says he studied the choreography for 'Prime Mover' so the audience would feel comfortable. he's trying to do what people expect, and he keeps checking if he's doing alright and asking the audience if they like what he's doing.

[BEFORE PERFORMING ABSOLUTION] PAPA EMERITUS III: So, we're gonna finish this off with something as weird as a new song. What that delighting, or did you not like that? Yes. Good, good. Linköping, Sweden (June 3, 2015)

PAPA EMERITUS III: So, I know it might seem a little confusing –it's even a little confusing to me, sometimes– y'know, playing new songs for people who've never heard these songs. But I tell you what– we have a really good ending song that you will understand why it is an ending song when you hear it. But now it might seem a bit strange, huh? Sweden Rock Festival - Solvesborg, Sweden (June 4, 2015)

Terzo feels weird about performing new music because it's new and the audience doesn't know what to expect and neither does he. he keeps trying to assure the audience that it'll be okay. but i'm pretty sure he was the only person worried about it. he was about to release a new album, so it completely made sense that he would be performing new songs. he just hates not knowing what to expect, and it doesn't occur to him that not everyone thinks like him.

and then this clip... i think it speaks for itself, but let's talk about it anyway. (i included the audio because i really want people to hear him speaking here.)

PAPA EMERITUS III: Okay! We are now officially wrapping– with a song. It's not a rap song, though. [STUTTERS FOR SEVERAL SECONDS] I've heard from my brother that you are somewhat of a singing crowd. So you like singing, eh? That is fantastic because that is exactly what we're gonna do right now, and if you had said no, that would have been… weird. So thank you for not being weird and weirding me out. I'm weird enough as it is. Sweden Rock Festival - Solvesborg, Sweden (June 4, 2015)

like where do i even start with this. him thinking he needs to clarify he's not going to be rapping. the stuttering. the fact that he listens to what Secondo tells him so he knows what to expect. him saying "[...] if you had said no, that would have been... weird. So thank you for not being weird and weirding me out. I'm weird enough as it is."

he feels like a weirdo and he just wants things to be normal so bad. 😭

he also gets really irritated when people are incorrect / do things incorrectly. he has the literal / rigid thinking patterns characteristic of autistic people

PAPA EMERITUS III: Well, it's getting late. AUDIENCE: NOOO! PAPA EMERITUS III: Yes! It's not a matter of opinion. It is getting late. Sweden Rock Festival - Solvesborg, Sweden (June 4, 2015)

he tells the audience it is objectively true that it is getting late.

then there's the whole bit where he wants people to clap along to the music but he hates it if people clap wrong or don't clap with the correct rhythm.

and the bit where he asks the audience to say "Meliora" and emphasizes the correct pronunciation versus the incorrect pronunciation.

Terzo strikes me as someone who is constantly trying to perform a very intentionally constructed social personality, not only as an entertainer but as a person. and while he's naturally charismatic and charming, it's actually quite difficult for him to perform this public personality because he's constantly concerned with getting a good grade in social interactions and things being done correctly.

and there are all the quotes about Terzo being a recluse who only interacts with others as much as is strictly necessary. this is definitely clinical depression, but i think his autism is also a factor.

he got comfortable once he settled into a routine and created a script that he could repeat, though. after that, he was really on autopilot during his concerts. which is also so so autistic of him <3

[aihoshiino]

chapter 166 thoughts

As of chapter 166, Oshi no Ko has finished a roughly four-and-a-half year run started back in 2020. While there's some speculation about an epilogue or some extra content in volume 16 when it drops, this is where the main story ends. And you know what that means!!!

OSHI NO KO HAS OFFICIALLY ENDED WITHOUT ADDRESSING OR ACKNOWLEDGING THE FACT THAT RUBY KISSED HER BROTHER IN CHAPTER 143

please understand that this is FUCKING BOGUS

I'll probably do a longer post on this subject specifically, but my main critique of 143 when the chapter dropped was that while I liked the individual beats in it and I was really glad to see Akasaka finally addressing this tension bubbling underneath Aqua and Ruby's relationship, the immediate swerve away from showing us the aftermath of that kiss felt to me like an admission that the story was going to needlessly draw this out even more. Now that the story has ended and we can see that moment had literally no impact on the plot or even the character dynamics, I'd like to revise that statement - it feels like an admission of compromise. It feels like crumbs thrown to AquRuby fans to tempt them to keep reading and to stir up the waters of the ship wars, so people would keep reading and stay invested in the manga right to the very end. But most of all, it feels deeply disrespectful to both Aqua and Ruby as characters. Rather than exploring their feelings and giving both of them interiority and complexity in relation to incest or even just fucking acknowledging that the kiss had happened and letting their dynamic evolve, the series just memory holes the entire event and asks that you do too. Rather than letting Ruby have any development whatsoever as pertains to that relationship or, god forbid, let a female character move on romantically from the male lead, the series ends with her feelings so up in the air that I literally could not tell you what she thinks of Aqua by the time he dies.

ANYWAY… FINAL CHAPTER. BREATHES OUT VERY HARD.

I really can't believe it's taken us until the final chapter to actually deal with Ruby's grief over Aqua lol. We got a snippet of it last chapter but it was so brief that it really just felt like a tease. I also just think it's kind of bizarre that we're spending this little time on Ruby having feelings about Aqua's death to the extent that I have no idea how or when she found out about it.

It's also kind of hard to feel particularly strongly about Ruby's grief when the chapter doesn't really bother to explore it all that much. It's just a montage of Ruby quite literally Screaming, Crying and Throwing Up while Akane dispassionately narrates it all. The art also doesn't really help in terms of connecting with the emotions at play - I usually really like Mengo's expression work and the way she depicts extreme emotions but this all just felt like of… I don't know how else to put it. Goofy??? Is that an insane thing to say about Ruby grieving her brother???

Idk, something about both the panelling and just the extreme on-the-noseness of Ruby, again, literally Screaming, Crying Throwing Up while she's wearing a Burning cosplay Just In Case You, The Audience, Didn't Get It only for her to abruptly be done crying with no exploration or insight as to what's going on in her head that allows her to move forward.

Honestly, this is kind of the issue with everyone in the cast. The resolution is just sort of "Aqua died and we were sad about it but then we stopped being sad". I know what the story is trying to go for here - it's trying to express that even when you're in pain, life goes on and so you have to find a way to go on with it. But the result is that we spend all this time oogling at their pain without spending equivalent or even meaningful time on their recovery process.

It feels both excessive and undercooked at the same time and I'm left with the same icky, voyeuristic feeling I got from Aqua's funeral last chapter. This should be the point in the story at which we empathize with Ruby the most, but she remains a frustratingly distant figure right to the final pages. Part of this is an unfortunate consequence of Akane's narration directing these final chapters meaning that we're hearing about Ruby from an outsider's perspective and thus don't really see what's going on in her head… but if I can be frank, this has been an issue of Aka's with Ruby in particular basically nonstop since chapter 123.

As others & myself have noted, despite the absolutely catastrophic downward spiral Ruby is in at that point, Aqua revealing himself as Gorou basically flips it all off like a switch. There's some mild lipservice paid to the idea that Ruby is just using her dependency on Gorou to prop herself up and it's pointed out that the issues that contributed to her breakdown haven't actually been resolved - but none of these issues are ever even acknowledged again, let alone resolved. So, functionally, that reveal does fix all Ruby's problems in the space of a single chapter and the result is, again, that we spend multiple chapters gourging on depictions of Ruby's absolute rock bottom only for her to ping back to normal like a lightswitch. As such, the depictions of her pain feel less like explorations of Ruby's interiority and more like voyeuristic oogling at Ruby's misery and trauma and the effect is that the resolution to it all is both unsatisfying and a little gross. The result is that it feels like Akasaka is just indulgently mining the imagery of cute girls suffering because it causes simple thoughts neuron activation but doesn't respect these girls enough as characters to build them back up.

It doesn't help that this is basically the in-universe excuse for Ruby's career further skyrocketing. Instead of Ruby becoming a star on her own merits as the story keeps insisting she was supposed to, she's artificially buoyed by the public's morbid fascination with her tragedy. If I was feeling charitable towards the story right now, I would say this is an avenue of intentional critique but… well, I don't feel super charitable about the story right now lol

I WILL say that the one part of this chapter I did just uncomplicatedly like was the beat of Mem trying to suspend activities (presumably in the wake of her grief for Aqua) only for Kana to basically immediately explode into her room and help her get back on her feet. It's a beat that would've been much more effective if we'd, you know, seen it, but I otherwise enjoyed it and I thought it was sweet.

But. pbbbbtttt. I guess I can't talk around it any longer… let's get into the Dome concert.

To start things off on the immediately worst note possible, Akane describes Ruby performing at the Dome as being 'everyone's dream', including Aqua's. I'm reminded once again of the strange turn the story took in insisting that um, actually, performing at the Dome was totes Ai's dream all along (even though she literally didn't give a shit even a week before she was due to perform there herself) so Ruby performing there is fulfilling that dream for her!!! and I can't help but wonder if this abrupt shift in focus is an attempt to make readers forget what Ai's actual dream was - to see her beloved children grow up happy and healthy. Hell, it wasn't even really Aqua's dream, until the story suddenly had to try and convince us that his entire purpose for existence was to kill himself so Ruby could be an idol for slightly longer than she would've otherwise. The only people whose dreams she's textually fulfilling are Ichigo and Miyako and Ruby herself, but…

Honestly, is this really Ruby's dream anymore?

Who is Hoshino Ruby? What does she want? Why does she want it? These should be the very least of what we can concretely say about not only a protagonist but a character who has become a central figure of the entire story as Ruby has, but with the way Oshi no Ko has warped and distorted her, I find myself increasingly unsure of what the story wants her to be or how I should answer those questions.What does Ruby feel about Aqua? Was she still in love with him? Had she moved on, romantically? Was she still waiting for a response to her confession? Did she finally realize it was probably kind of shitty to respond to her brother going "lowkey wanna kms" by sticking her tongue down his throat? I Guess We'll Never Know.

This extends to whatever the fuck Ruby's relationship with idols and being an idol is. Almost the entirety of Ruby's time in the story has been spent reiterating over and over that Ruby cannot just be an idol who imitates Ai and that to truly shine, she needs to step out of her mom's shadow and shine in her own way. Ruby even literally tells Kana in no uncertain terms in 137 - "I'll be a star in my own way. I won't be like Mama."

While this has always been the text of the story, as I've pointed out before, the actual art with which Ruby's idolhood depicts her basically just as Ai 2.0. It relies so heavily on mining the imagery of Ai's charisma and personality as an idol and using them as the measure of Ruby's success as an idol that Ruby essentially has no visual or conceptual identity of her own as an idol. She's just Ai, But Arbitrarily Better, For Reasons The Narrative Fails To Actually Establish But Hopes That You Just Accept Anyway. This was always kind of annoying, but now that friction seems to have been resolved by… just making her Ai 2.0, But Arbitrarily Better (etc, etc) in the text as well. The fact that we're given no further insight as to Ruby's feelings and continue to just have Akane Explain Ruby's Character Arc to the camera also doesn't help.

All this combines to make the Dome concert and the final few pages feel exceptionally cold in a way I really don't think was intended by Akasaka. Yes, that splash page was nice and flashy but… I just felt nothing. I have no idea if or why Ruby cares about this. And even though the Dome concert has been hyped up through the entire story as the peak of Ruby's achievements as an idol, I feel no sense of accomplishment in her finally being there - not just because her journey to it was basically sneezed at us across two panels, but because it just feels hollow as a victory lap for Ruby. Again, she feels so distant and abstracted as a character that I can't bring myself to feel very strongly about her good or bad.

I think the perfect encapsulation of this are the final four pages of the story. Ruby's words here are very clearly intended to be a callback to Ai's words to Gorou in chapter one but as @all-of-her-light pointed out in our initial discussions of the chapter, Ruby very much does not have an equivalent to Ai's conclusion that she nevertheless wants and values the opportunity to find personal happiness and fulfillment outside of being an idol. Are we supposed to believe that simply being an idol is all that Ruby needs to achieve a similar degree of happiness and fulfillment? Is there no more to her than that?

I've seen a lot of people interpret this ending as exceptionally bleak and, as usual, gleefully predicting Ruby's immanent suicide because her beloved oniichansensei isn't around but this is indulging in, if you'll allow me to be frank, some pretty transparently ship-motivated flanderization. Despite what certain sections of the fandom would like to believe, Aqua and Ruby's lives, past and current, have never revolved around each other to the exclusion of every other relationship in their life. Ruby has a massive support network of people who love and care for her and actively want her to get back on her feet. I can one hundred percent believe that she does not need Aqua in her life to be happy and content.

The issue is that we don't see enough of Ruby to understand that ourselves. Again, she has become such a distant figure with so little insight into what she's thinking and why that this ending is basically a Rorschach test in which you can interpret basically whatever the hell you want or assume because we have so little canon basis to support or debunk our assumptions.

and yes. don't think i didn't see them. it IS both grimly hilarious and weirdly tonally appropriate for this ending that ruby has a bunch of oshi goods of ai and aqua including their fucking autographs set up to say goodbye to every day.

AND…… WE'RE DONE!!! THAT'S OSHI NO KO, BABY!!!! well, technically, there's going to be a 20 page extra chapter in volume 16 but I don't see it being big or substantive enough to meaningfully change my feelings about the ending so… I guess we're leaving it here. Damn. Feels crazy to be done with it.

I'll probably do a bigger post down the line about my thoughts on the ending as a whole but in terms of just How This Chapter Made Me feel, I guess the word is just… meh! It's definitely not an ending I like and I think the execution is sloppy and rushed but I also just don't really have the energy to feel angry about it. Maybe that's sad in its own way but tbh… I still really love Oshi no Ko! I still find it engaging and I find the characters I enjoy rewarding to talk about. I like the artistry of the anime adaptation. I don't blame anybody else for being so turned off by this ending that they're done with the series but for me, I like what I like about OnK too much that this ending could retroactively ruin it for me. Whatever else happens with the OnK franchise, whatever directions the anime and live-action take, this will always be the series that gave me Ai and the Hoshino family and. look at me. look at what she's done to my brain. could I really ask for anything more than that?

That being said, I'm definitely not done with discussing the series! I have fics to write (including a VERY exciting large scale project lined up with some friends), my Ai analysis post to finish and I also want to do a re-read of the series and finish my anime rewatch. I'll be here to discuss Oshi no Ko as long as I have things to say about it and as long as you guys will have me! Despite how the series ended, I've had a genuinely wonderful experience in the fandom and I really don't want to let go of the little community we've built together just because the series is done. I'm Ai's fan for all eternity!!!

[dutiful-wildcraft]

I re-emerge with a soft and vaguely angsty Nik/Price/F!Reader

Unedited, 1k, enjoy <3

It's not unusual for Nikolai to look after her while Price is away. As a matter of fact it grew common, the burly Russian staying with her more often than not, even when John was home.

And what had originally been a friendly extension of John, extra security at her call, had evolved into another soft body in their bed, both men's mingled cologne sinking into her sheets as she slept tucked between them.

However, these last few days had been devoid of soft embraces and stolen kisses, but rather wretched coughing and sniffly noses. 

Nikolai, has been sick as shit for days.

Thankfully, he'd been minding her with only a small amount of caterwauling. Huffing and puffing about her not sleeping beside him, whining as sickly boys are want to do.

His raspy voice somehow stupidly effective in getting him his way. 

Can I have more blankets lisichka? he rumbles pitifully.

What will we have for lunch?  he asks with big brown eyes. 

As if he could keep anything more than cheese and crackers down.

Unable to sleep due to Nikolai’s chainsaw level congestion snores, she slinks down stairs in the wee hours of the morning. Having already decided to make her favorite comfort food. Something simple, savory and carb heavy for the pair of them. 

On a whim she gives John a video call, setting it up on the counter while it rings and rings. 

She hardly expects him to answer, he rarely does.  And considering he'd already been gone 4 out of his supposed 6 week stint, she was sure her man was still up to his chest in work.

She's got a maw full of shredded cheese when John's voice rings through the receiver.

“Hello darling”

She sputters, recovering quickly to flash him a big goofy smile.

“Hey love” she whispers back, heart fit to burst as she takes him. There isn't much to see, just the pale light of his phone illuminating his features in the darkness. His beard is scruffy, bags under his eyes far too heavy for her liking. 

“Hello” he repeats again, an infinite fondness in his voice. His sweet cheeks pulled up into that little smile that still makes her blush. She sheepishly brushes the remnant shredded cheese off her tits, tries to quickly adjust her hair. 

She can see her own image reflected in the top corner of her screen, she looks like hammered hell honestly. Hair a mess, dark circles under her eyes, clad in ratty stained oversized shirt. She almost feels a little guilty for not looking more presentable for him when he chimes in again.

“Missed that sweet face.” he murmurs, and all those nagging thoughts plop right from her noggin. The goofy man would think she'd look hot in a trash bag. 

“Missed your face too baby, you okay?” She knows better than to ask about the op, instead lets him pick and choose what he likes to talk about. 

“Much better now, might even be home sooner than we thought.”

Her ears perk at that, spiritual tail wagging hopefully. She missed him dearly, occasionally shed tears in the lonely showers away from Nikolai, when the weight became to much for her to bare. She does her best not to say anything, doesn't want him to feel bad for being so far away. Instead she sends him updates, pictures of the animals, of her meals, this weeks favorite song.

He doesn't reply, she knows he can't, but he does read them, follows up with each one in a big text or call when he can. Somehow holding the details despite whatever hell he sees.

“What you makin’ over there?” he cuts in, trying to eye the counter with a raised brow through the screen. 

“I was hankerin’ for some potato soup, thought the patient would like it too.” she chuckles a bit.

“Mmm, sweet thing aren't you? How is he?”

“He's only a little whiny, spends his day trying to coax me close enough to cough on me, claims he just wants a cuddle” she laughs.

John chuckles too, shaking his head with a fond exasperation.“Well, you gonna show me how to do it?”

“Huh? Right now? I was just calling…you can get your rest babe, I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“I'm far from tired with a pretty thing cookin for me, now go on.”

She flashes him a knowing look. John Price was no chef, he did well enough, but she'd caught him on more than one occasion following along to the little cooking videos he'd dug up on the internet. Especially those made by other soft southern women.

With an expectant look she continues her work, cutting vegetables and getting the stock pot ready. 

“Talk to me love, need to hear your voice.” he reminds her. 

Not want. Need. And who was she to deny him? So with a little fumbling she starts narrating, mimicking the smooth diction she'd often heard in those same videos, biting back a smile as she watches John fight sleep. Tired baby blues drooping lower and lower, closing briefly before the sharp snick of cut carrots stirs him again. Eyes straining to keep watch.

Sweet man.

She knows he's exhausted, more so than she can probably imagine. What hell he's had to dodge up until this point, and possibly a few days more until he can see them again.

Something in her chest stirs at how he stills for her, easily drawn into the soft bubble of comfort she can provide at such a distance. Lulled easily by a silly soup recipe, simply because it's her voice. She wonders now if he uses her voice messages similarly. She wonders if he would let her read him to sleep.

She files it away. Along with the thought of sending him softer voice messages for when he's away. 

She looks to him again, bristly face squished against his pillow. Eyes closed serenely. 

“Wanna know my secret?” she asks, soft and playful, watching one of his pretty blue eyes creak open at her tone.

“W'sat luv?” 

“I use instant mashed potatoes to thicken up my soup, makes it extra potatoe-y” she giggles.

“My clever girl” he mumbles dreamily, followed by a string of more barely intelligible praise. It rolls easy and proud from his chest, voice no more than a sleepy purr that makes a grin split her face. 

By the time she's finished up John is fully asleep, his measured breaths pouring through the receiver just shy of a real snore.

Her heart aches deep in her chest, a chunk of it long gone and far far away in the form of one John Price, and while she can see him now, know he's alive and relatively well, she longs more than anything to crawl in next to him. Hold him close tucked beneath her chin, where she can keep him warm and safe herself.

As if on cue, a pair of strong arms wrap around her middle, Nikolai’s hot cheek pressed to her temple where he briefly lays a kiss. This time she doesn't fight him. 

Getting sick be damned.

“Pretty thing isn't he?” Nikolai rumbles quietly, eyeing the phone screen with those fond brown eyes. 

She simply hums an affirmative in his arms, words caught in her throat by the emotion that's threatening to escape her. 

Nik seems to catch on, giving her a soft squeeze. “How is he?” he whispers instead, voice low to not wake the man on the other side of the world.

The question is able to at least shake a little out of her. “He seems okay, worn out, fell asleep watching me cook.” She watches John for another moment before sucking in a deep sigh, squirming around in Niks arms to face him, tuck herself into his arms. 

“I'm just ready for him to be home” she mumbles into the soft plush of his chest.

Nik pulls her in closer, warm hands petting along her back, squeezing the back of her neck soothingly. “Me too, malyshka” he returns, the weight of John's absence equally heavy in his own voice. 

The pair stay there for some time, swaying gently in each other's embrace, listening to John's soft snores until the sun paints their meager kitchen gold.

[6esiree]

𝐈𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝 (𝐖𝐈𝐏)

Who would have thought that Alastor, the older gentleman who sauntered into the speakeasy you worked at with a character that was so sickeningly suave, so overtly conscientious with everything he did that after many months, he finally managed to convince you to take him home even amidst a storm at an ungodly hour… was inexperienced? Sure, he begrudgingly admitted that he was a virgin as he slipped out of his soaked clothes alongside you, but you’d been with plenty who had dexterous fingers and tongues before.

But apparently, Alastor did not fall into that category. His brilliant mind barely held an inkling of knowledge of what it took to elicit the sinful noises he caught patrons and workers exchanging in the shadows whenever he went outside to relieve his bladder. And after he had unceremoniously clambered into your room from your window, almost knocking down your bedside lamp and alerting your slumbering parents of what their seemingly innocent daughter was up to, he made that painfully obvious to you.

“Alastor Hartfelt, are you teasing me?” You inquired in a hushed tone as your hands wandered down the expanse of his nude back, feeling his warm, damp skin beneath your palms.

He had you pinned to your bed, one hand squeezing the softness of your hip as the other kneaded the inside of your thigh. But that was it. He wouldn’t dare touch you where you needed him the most, even when the tips of his fingers had accidentally grazed your core just a few moments earlier, the thin fabric of your underwear utterly drenched in your anticipation. The sight of your nipples peeking through your slip didn’t tempt him, either—and he always admired your cleavage during your shifts.

“Teasing you?” Alastor eventually mustered as his lips lathered your collarbone with affection, the flesh there bruised from the unforgiving nature of his teeth. “Why would you think so, my darling?”

At first, you thought he was still somewhat drunk, but the kisses you had shared just earlier testified to his sobriety, the taste of rye only but a memory on your tastebuds. However, Alastor was being so unbelievably careful with his hands that you couldn’t quite tell whether he was teasing you or simply unsure… though you had no reason to believe that someone of his caliber didn’t know what to do. He was older, attractive, and got along with the ladies quite well—surely you couldn’t be the first person he’d ever been with, right?

“Because you keep touching me everywhere but there, you know?” You huffed as you hooked a leg around his waist, urging his hips to meet yours. “Come on, Al, my pa’ will be up in a few hours.”

Your clothed core grazed the tent in his briefs, and if you hadn’t let out a moan at the feeling of his cock nudging your clit through your underwear, or if the sky outside hadn’t rumbled with thunder, you would have noticed the breathy gasp that seeped past his lips. But ever the prideful man, he quickly composed himself and moved the hand on your hip down to affectionately grip the leg around his waist, his nails digging into your flesh. Still, you were made aware of his gratification as his cock stirred against your warmth.

“Did I not inform you that I’ve never done this before?” Alastor told you as he withdrew from your collarbone to look at you, the skin between his brows creasing in confusion.

“Yes, you did. Yes,” You blinked as you caught what appeared to be a flicker of nervousness in his gaze. Strange. “Do you not know how to… uh, you know, use your hands?”

It’s not that Alastor didn’t know how to use his hands, no. In fact, he always knew where to touch you, what had you squeaking or gasping in delight when he caught you alone and unaware during your shift, but right now? With… other parts of your body on display underneath him, with you finally at his complete and utter submission, well, he found himself overwhelmed with a lack of confidence due to his inexperience. The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint you, but he had managed to do that anyway, he realized.

“No,” Alastor shook his head in amusement, but you knew it was feigned due to the strained nature of the smile on his face. “Why, here I thought you would guide me,” He added.

“And here I thought you knew how to…” You started, but your words drifted off to a whisper as your skin flared up in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I should have figured that you needed my help.”

𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧:

Every time I try to do headcanons, I end up writing a little story instead. I’m sorry, y’all. I have no idea why I’m like this </3

[dumblilb]

I don’t wanna talk

Vi x Bartender!Reader

(Synopsis: Vi’s been having a hard time recently. You decide to give her a little relief.)

(Warnings: !SMUT MDNI!, lesbian sex, Sub!Vi, oral (both!r), thigh riding (vi!r), strap (vi!r), begging, mentions of alcohol, profanity, crying from overstim, a little angst but not really, kinda fluff)

(Requested: Yes)

(Word count: 2,823)

* ・゚☆ 。・ * ・゚★ 。・ * ・゚☆ * ・゚★。*

As her newly dark hair falls over her eyes all she could think about was how angry she was. It hadn’t even quite hit her yet why. Maybe it was her bruised knuckles, and the way they made her hands look so ruff against your skin. Or the fact that the lights were blinding her eyes. But as she looked up at you over the bar counter, she knew she had one thing to be surely mad at. You were gonna probably gonna send her home.

She held your forearm with a small bit of pressure. Putting the drink you were making for your final customer of the night on pause.

“Please. I need a drink. Just one.” Vi pleads. She looks tired. Her shoulders are slightly slouched and her eyes look sullen. You can’t help but sigh. This is the third night this week you’ve denied her service. Normally you can’t help but place down another beer for a drunkerd. A few extra dollars in your pocket from some rando isn’t the worst thing in the world. But when it’s your friend that’s when it gets complicated.

“Vi, I’m off in a minute. Just let me finish making this and you can come with me back to mine. Okay?” You smile softly. Her grip on your arm loosens and she looks at you for a second, debating her answer. Did she really want you to take her home and put her to bed. Her eyes flicker to the softness in your eyes. And the way your chest moved delicately up and down while you breathed. Actually that doesn’t sound like a bad idea right now. Maybe she wasn’t that upset after all.

“Fine. Just-“ She breathes out heavy, hanging her head. “Don’t make me wait too long.” She lets up on your arm and walks over to the exit waiting for you. You can’t help but stare at her as you clean up and clock out. Her jacket is slung over her shoulder. The fabric molding to the sweat covered muscles of her back. Like an unruly child she scrapes her large leather boots across the floor back n forth. Almost in protest of you testing her level of patience.

You walk over to her and she gives you a slight tinge of a smile as she wraps her arm around your shoulders.

“You’re getting sweat on me.” You grimace. She just places a peck on your cheek with a stuck up grin.

“You love it.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever done anything to give you that impression.” You roll your eyes. But the undeniable smile covering your face gives her the courage she needs for the night.

The walk home was quick since you live not too far. Which vi was pleased about. The second you unlocked the door she pulled you into your own home, leading you to your room.

“What the hell are you doing.” You can’t help but laugh.

“Nothing I just wanna talk.” She says sitting down on your bed. Discarding her boots and jacket to the floor.

“Talk?” You question. You’re used to her flirting. She’s done it her whole life. She’s never really not been a charmer. But ever since she started doing those pit fights and coming to find you at the bar afterwards, it’s been a little intense. She started coming as a way to see you. She’d buy a drink. Chat you up. Get turned down. And she’d buy another. You could tell she was just sad and lonely. So you didn’t really give the idea of it the time of day. But as the drinking became more intense you got worried. She only seemed to become more upset the more times you sent her on her way. Beer in hand. You’d started to think you definitely fucked up. And she wasn’t joking around.

“Can’t remember the last time we talked about anything other than how bad you want me.” You tease, trying to keep the energy light. Maybe just this once. You’d try and see how this goes.

“You know I’ve had a really shitty day. Lost my match. And the only thing that’s made me feel better is the sight of you. You seem to have that effect on me recently.” She states as you sit down next to her. She leans to rest her head down softly on your shoulder. You don’t quite know how to react to what she’s just said. Her breath is hitting your skin sending a shiver down your back. You go to rest your hand to her cheek bringing her to face you, but she pulls back almost like a flinch. You ease her in closer.

“I don’t think I wanna talk right now.” You whisper, leaning in slightly to close the gap. She almost gasps at the contact but finds composure and melts into the kiss. All she could think about for weeks was how you would feel against her. If your lips were soft or if your eyelashes would flutter against her cheeks. But nothing could have prepared her for how heavenly you would feel.

The softness of your lips had her entranced as she pulled you in for more. Leaning into you making you fall back on your arms, deeper into your bed. She parts for a second, taking in your face. The way your eyes dart from hers to her lips. The way they your lips stay open slightly. Like they’re inviting her back in. You take the chance and kiss her again. Guiding her body up into a sitting position. Practically straddling your hips. You place a hand to her chest, feeling up to her neck. You could feel her heart racing under your touch. Deep breaths wracked her body as you fiddled with the wraps around her torso.

“Can I?” You question and she continues to kiss you, moving down your neck.

“Please.” She exhales and you start removing them. Much too slow for her taste. She’s antsy, nipping at your skin as you work. You finally get it off and take a second to admire her. She beautiful. Her skin is pale but it glimmers with sweat as she pants. You run your fingers over her chest, caressing her softly making her look at you nervously. What if you didn’t like them. What if-

“God you’re fucking perfect.” You exclaim quietly, placing soft kisses upon them. Her head falls back as you enclose on of them in your mouth. Putting your tongue to work, rolling over her nipple gently with your other hand.

Her hand grips your thigh tightly as a way to cope with the new sensation. She runs her other over your head till you pull back. She looks at you slightly confused till you begin removing your top, making her eyes go wide. The black bra still covering your chest doesn’t keep her from gawking. She slides off your lap for a second, hastily removing her own black jeans leaving her in just a pair of boxers in front of you. Her happy trail on display. Scooting forward you grab her hand placing it on your own pants. Giving her permission to remove them.

She bends down in front of you, sliding them over your hips and down your legs. Running her fingers up your thighs she starts to spread them apart, but you urge her back onto your lap.

“You said you had a bad day? Let me make you feel good.” You breathe into her ear, teasing her boxers off with your fingertips. Which she is now eagerly ripping off. Placing her, now noticeably wet, core down on one of your thighs. You grip her hips with a bit of force. Guiding them in a back in forth motion. She lets out a soft grunt as she slowly picks up the pace. Resting her head in the crook of your neck, she sloppily places small pecks to your collar bone. Her hands gripping your waist to keep steady.

Each motion she made caused a moan to leave her lips. They started quiet but as her legs became shaky you’d remind her how good she was doing. You rock your leg up into her, making the whining become louder. Her voice barely sounding legible between gasps, as she pleads with you.

“Fuck! I- I can’t…” She lets out, whipping her head back. You just smile at her softly. You roll over onto the bed, bringing her under you. Her hair falling back out of her face, leaving you with her wide eyed expression. She’s confused as to why you stopped her from finishing, till you get down on your knees beside the bed. Pulling her legs towards you and resting them on your shoulders. Her toned thighs clenched around you in anticipation as you leave little kisses to the area.

She’s starts to get needy, grinding her hips upward towards your lips when you grip her tightly. Looking up at her flushed face. Any makeup she was wearing earlier was fully smudged off and beads of sweat dripped down her abs as her deep breaths made each one flex just a little. It makes your brain spin a little as she looks at you with softness. Eyes pleading with you. Practically begging for relief.

“Please-“ She starts to say when you run your tongue through her folds. Her whole body melts into the bed. Each dip into her making her squirm as you work your way to her clit. Tonguing it with swift motion. Loud grunts leave her lips as she grips your head trying to push you in closer. She wants more. Which is fine. You have much more to give.

Coming up for air you slightly knock her hand out of the way. You begin holding her hips up with nothing but your own strength. Her legs fully over your shoulders. She tries to help by holding herself up with her forearms. But as you begin sucking on the sensitive area she gives up. An echoing moan leaves her as her core starts to tense up. Gripping your sheets tightly, she holds her eyes closed. Almost embarrassed to face you like this. Weak and to your will.

Her hips start to twitch. And before you could even prepare she’s a mess under you. Her release covering your mouth. She lays there panting for a minute while you gently set her down. Leaving wet kisses up her body, till you’re lying against her. Bringing her lips you yours, letting her taste herself. She holds you tight as if scared you would leave. Bitting slightly at your lips. Just enough to claim her stake. Her hand falls to your underwear line and she starts to inch closer to your core. You couldn’t help but peek to see the way her tattoos flowed with her muscles at each movement.

Moving your hips forward you allow her to start softly running her fingers through your folds. A small murmur of pleasure creeps out making her smile into the kiss. Applying light pressure she moves in circular motions, moving her kisses down your neck. Nipping at it slightly. The louder you get the faster she goes. The restriction of your panties upsets her so she takes a pause to slide them off and gets right back to it.

You place your hand on hers and guide it down to your entrance. She understands quickly and moves to be more on top of you. Holding one of your thighs down slightly with her leg. Holding herself up with one of her arms, her other glides its first finger into your core gently. She hesitates for a moment before you impatiently buck your hips, letting her know it’s okay to start moving.

She starts gingerly. Nervous almost. But as you whisper words of encouragement under your breath she starts to pick up the pace. Each thrust making you squirm under her. As her speed increases you bring one of your own hands down to massage your clit. The feeling of another finger entering makes a warmth start building in your stomach. Vi grunts as she continues. Her eyes not leaving you. The way your chest moves at her motions could make her drool. She starts to curl her fingers upward inside you and your pace becomes faster. But it’s sloppy, and a lack of composure becomes apparent.

“Fuck! Vi don’t stop… don’t fucking stop.” You say stern, even in your current state. Your legs start to shake under her and with a last pump the feeling in your stomach releases making your whole body tense against her. She slowly starts to remove her fingers, placing them in her mouth to lick them clean. Under heavy lids you look at her with a smirk. She liked the way you tasted. You could see it on her face. She was pussy drunk.

Sitting up you move to reach under the bed. Grabbing what you need from the box you kept there. She looks at you curious till you bring it into her view. The hot pink strap, now sitting on your lap, makes her eyes go wide.

“Do you want me too..” She starts but as you get up and start to tighten it around your hips, she understands. “Oh!”

“Is this okay?” You check walking towards her position at the edge of the bed. She nods her head rapidly making you chuckle a bit. Pink dusting over her cheeks as you stand between her legs. Cupping her face you rub your thumb across her tattoo, taking in the way she looks. Even in the dark her powder blue eyes sparkle. Her hair can’t help fall slightly in the way of her view. Which in this moment is not something she’s fond of. She wants to see you.

Leaning down, you delicately leave a kiss to her forehead. Grabbing her hand in the process. You pull her up to stand in front of you.

“Turn around.” You muse and she looks at you a little confused, following instructions anyways. The sight of her tattoo covering her back makes you take a deep breath. God she’s so fucking hot. You rub your hands down her back, tracing each line of ink. She shivers slightly under your touch reminding you of what you were doing in the first place. Bending her over, she places her knees and hands down onto the bed and braces herself. Climbing up to bring your pelvis to her ass, you position yourself.

Caressing her hips softly you question “ready?” And you see her nod.

Pushing the tip of the strap in slowly you let her get accustomed to the feeling. A audible moan leaves her and you place a kiss to her back. Finding yourself a rhythm you begin thrusting into her. Slow at first, not to scare her. But then she started begging for it.

“Please! Faster.” She groaned, spreading her legs a bit wider. Which allowed for you to go deeper. Your thighs hitting her ass making as slapping noise echo in the room. But it was hard to hear over the loud whines that escapes her mouth. She can’t help but curse your name as you apply some pressure to her back, making her arch deeper. Holding her hips tightly to secure the motion. Her arms give out and her torso becomes flesh with the sheets. Arms up above her head. She turns slightly back to look at you. Reaching under you start to rub her off while continuing to slam into her.

“Holy shit!” She exclaims trying to hide her face behind her arm, but you stop her.

“Pretty girl, I need you to look at me.” You smile and she moves her arm. Small tears gather in her eyes from the overstimulation on her pussy. You get concerned for a second but when her legs start to twitch a little she practically begs for you to go harder. It only takes a few more pumps before her legs give out and you can feel warmth covering your hand. Easing out of her, you pull out and remove the strap from your hips.

She lays there, body sprawled out across your bed. Her eyes are closed but she has a grin adorning her face. A slight flush on her skin apparent. Quickly placing a kiss to her shoulder, you get up to grab a damp towel. Coming back to sit next to her.

“Come here.” You bring her closer to begin wiping her down. Cleaning her off. She looks up at you with a grin. She puts a hand to your cheek, pulling your lips down to hers. The kiss is gentle and needy. She just wants to feel you. Resting her forehead to yours she sighs.

“You okay?” You question, caressing her arm softly.

“My day just got a whole lot better.”

[ratcash-wasgud]

Lmao hey arcane fandom

I'm going to spew my two cents and try to get yall to see why I will defend Cait with my WHOLE LIFE IF NEEDED

I love Vi too btw, don't get me wrong, they both need their foreheads kissed

EDIT: Also, I'm gonna put this here since ppl thought othervise: This is not a post against Vi, she's my goat, she needs to retire from bad shit happening to her. This is a post defending Cait, since she's the character getting the most hate rn, and I will defend basically every arcane character with my whole chest (exepct Heimerdinger, fuck that hoe)

Spoilers

Ok, let me start with the whole breakup scene and the things that led to it, since that's basically one of the biggest points in this argument. I'm going to be honest, I kinda feel like Vi was a little af fault there. Because now, because Caitlyn couldn't kill Jinx, even when she could've, she will have to do the whole hunt again. AGAIN. And we know Cait is only hurting Zaun because she WILL comb through an entire city just to find Jinx, and nothing else. She doesn't hate the people of Zaun. And it could've stopped at that one incident with the grey IF she killed Jinx. But she didn't, because Vi stopped her. Again.

And let me tell you, if I went through all that shit, WITH the support of my bae, just to be stopped at the last moment I'd be pissed too.

"Oh, but Caitlyn didn't care if she accidentally killed the kid," let me remind yall of that moment when Jayce accidently killed a kid in season one with the hextech weapons, and wanted to stop using them, but Vi was like, "hey, it happens a bunch here, let's not stop using these things for fighting!" And literally said "He knew what he was signing up for." But now she suddenly cares about one kid? Plus what's the chance of Cait ACTUALLY missing? And even if she did, and killed Isha...Jinx killed multiple people yall, probably even kids (including her brothers) but yall love her (me too but that's besides the point).

Cait is now driven by revenge. And let's not pretend we didn't see this change coming. The whole bullet board thing she had on the floor in season one, the dedication to free a random prisoner just to get clues about Silco...she was always dedicated to her craft. And the raige started to appear in her even in the final episode, where she got KIDNAPPED BY JINX, let me remind yall, and she had to literally free herself. Just imagine how traumatic that shit was for her. Then, when she could've shot her abductor, her bae stops her, letting Jinx slip away and go on to kill her mother. But, she's still not blaming Vi, and wants her on her team, just to be stopped at the last moment again.

Next thing is the fact that she becomes a dictator...well, she could've said no when Ambessa said her name, right? Yeah, no. That's not how it works. She couldn't have been like "yeah, no, I don't wanna do allat, I'm still kinda liking the enemy after they keep attacking us, so ima pass on this one", for some reason. Ambessa literally made sure that she can't pass this up. Plus she caught her almost right after she returned from Zaun, and leaving Vi. She was in a vulnerable, revenge hungry state.

Ok, yap session over, I'm writing this at 1 am, and I have work tomorrow at 6, so I'm cooked, but Cait Cait Cait Cait Cait Cait Cait

[lettre-romantiques]

5#-> 💌: a letter has arrived from satoru gojo.

dear y/n.

heyy cutie.. i hope you like the gifts i got you. i know this isn’t the easiest way to communicate, but it's the only way right now. things have gotten.. complicated. i don't have much time to spare.

i’m writing this quickly and short, because things are moving fast, and i need to make sure you understand what’s going on. things are about to get messy, i know it, so i’m doing what i can to keep it all from falling apart.

the whole thing with the transport barrier and the crowd of civilians, none of that was going to be easy. but i didn’t.. fully expect this. i mean.. i did, but you know what i mean. i didn’t expect the king of cursed spirits to come together like this, or for the sheer fucking chaos that would unfold once sukuna was set loose.

and if anyone is going to deal with him, it’s got to be me. it always had to be me.

i’m doing this because it’s necessary, because i need to, and if anyone is going to deal with him, it’s got to be me. it’ll always be me. you’ll understand when the time comes. hopefully the students will explain.

i know you’ve always believed in me, hell, i’ve built my whole persona around being the unbeatable, invincible sorcerer. but i’ve learned something over the years: no matter how strong you are, no matter how much you try to control everything around you, there are things that will always get away from you. and i’ve come to terms with the fact that sukuna isn’t someone i can just 'neutralize' in the usual way. this time, it’s different. this fight’s different. and if i’m being honest, part of me knew that from the very beginning.

i’m sorry for the things i never told you. i’m sorry for the times i acted like everything was a joke, like i was invincible and nothing could hurt me. i didn’t want you to see how often i was just faking it, pretending like i had all the answers. the truth is, there were moments where i was terrified. terrified of the responsibility, terrified of what would happen if i ever failed. so i did what i always do, i covered it with jokes, with ridiculous stunts, and by being 'the strongest.' it was easier that way, wasn’t it? easier for me, easier for everyone else.

but i guess that’s where i was wrong. you deserved more than that. you deserved to see all the versions of me. so, for all the times i let you down, for all the times i acted like i wasn’t just as scared and confused as anyone else.. i’m sorry. really, i am.

the truth is, i’ve never really had a plan for how to handle all this. the higher-ups wanted me to handle everything, like i was some kind of god who could solve all their problems. but i’ve always known the world’s broken, y/n. it’s always been broken. and now, it’s my turn to do something about it. even if i don’t come back from this, at least i’ll know i gave it everything i had.

sukuna isn’t just some 'big bad guy' for me to beat. he’s the only thing standing in the way of everything. i can’t just let him continue. i can’t let him tear down what little everyone managed to hold down together. and if that means putting myself on the line.. then so be it. it’s what i have to do.

i don’t expect you to understand fully, but i need you to know this: if something happens, if i don’t make it back, just know that i’m okay with it. this was always the risk. i’ve always known that. but i want you to keep going. i want you to keep fighting. you’ve got the strength to carry on. i wouldn’t have left if I didn’t believe that, you already know that baby.

so, if something happens to me, if i don’t come back, please, don’t let it break you. keep going. keep fighting. and don’t forget that i did what i know was the best choice. i don’t have regrets about the choices i made. i just regret that it had to end this way.

i don’t know how to say goodbye, and i don’t want to. but whenever this is it, i need you to know that i love you more than i ever thought i could, i didn't really think i could love anyone after suguru. you were my greatest love. and i’m sorry i never got to say that to your face one last time.

anyways, i’m rambling now. just know this.. if i don’t make it back, i’m grateful for every second we had, for everything. you’ve meant more to me than you know.

from, your glorious blue eyed king.

p.s. take care of yourself. keep your head up. and don’t forget baby, i was the strongest. and i hope your heart will be the strongest to stomach all this.

[iamgonnagetyouback]

hii ivy!! i was thinking for the 1k celebration, the prompt "I'm not cute" "sure, keep telling yourself that" for James??

I love your thinking very much, love! (∩˃o˂∩)♡ Thank you so much for requesting <33

ivy's 1k celebration ❄️ navigation ❄️ prompt list

ˋ°•*⁀➷ JAMES POTTER #48: "I’m not cute." "Sure, keep telling yourself that."

It was a regular weekend, and you and James had somehow ended up at Madam Puddifoot’s. Not by choice, mind you, but because Sirius had practically shoved the two of you through the door, cackling as he held it shut from the outside until you resigned to staying put.

You glared at James from across the small, heart-covered table, wrinkling your nose at the frilly pink tablecloth. “This is your fault, you know.”

He grinned, dimples out and completely unbothered by the absurdly decorated café. “How is it my fault?”

“You’re the one who made me come to Hogsmeade with you. If I’d known we’d end up here, I’d have stayed in the common room.” You huffed, crossing your arms as he laughed. “I am not cute enough for this kind of place.”

“Oh, really?” He cocked an eyebrow, leaning in with that smirk that was just begging to be slapped. “I think you’re very cute, love. In fact, the cutest.”

You shook your head, scoffing as your cheeks flushed. “James, I am not cute.”

“Mm, sure.” He leaned back, crossing his arms and looking you up and down like he was challenging you. “Keep telling yourself that.”

You groaned, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response and instead busied yourself with your teacup. “No, really,” you said, setting it down with a soft clink. “I’m a Black. Black sisters don’t do cute—they do cool, mysterious, edgy.”

James snorted. “Oh, yeah, definitely edgy. When you fell down the stairs last week, that was really mysterious.”

You swatted at him across the table, your face heating up at the memory. “That was a one-time thing!”

“And when you tried to hex Snivellus and ended up accidentally hexing yourself?”

You pursed your lips. “My wand slipped.”

“Mhm. And when you spilled pumpkin juice on McGonagall?”

“I slipped again,” you mumbled, crossing your arms tighter as he dissolved into laughter.

“Oh, love,” he said, reaching over to grab your hand, his thumb tracing circles along your knuckles. “You are the cutest, whether you want to admit it or not.”

You scowled at his hand over yours but didn’t pull away. “Stop calling me cute. I’m intimidating.”

“Yes, absolutely terrifying,” he agreed, nodding seriously before cracking a smile. “I mean, look at those fierce little eyes and that tiny, scrunched-up nose. Positively horrifying.”

You sighed dramatically. “I’ll hex you if you keep this up.”

“Sure you will.” His eyes twinkled mischievously. “I mean, you’ve done it so successfully before.”

You lifted your chin, doing your best impression of a dignified, aloof Black sister. “I don’t need your cheek, Potter. I am not cute.”

He raised a challenging eyebrow. “Right. So if I said, ‘Merlin, you’re adorable,’ you wouldn’t blush?”

“Exactly,” you said firmly, ignoring the heat rising to your cheeks.

“Merlin, you’re adorable,” he said instantly, eyes trained on your face.

The color rushed to your cheeks faster than you could stop it. James laughed, squeezing your hand as he watched you squirm.

“You know what, Potter?” you muttered, feeling like an absolute fool.

“What’s that, darling?”

You leaned in, narrowing your eyes. “I think you’re cute.”

“Oh, now she’s trying to dish it back,” he said, beaming at you. “Sorry, but cute’s your title around here.”

You pouted, biting back a smile as he brought your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. It was enough to make your heart do an embarrassing little flip.

“Keep pouting, love,” he murmured, his voice low and soft. “It only makes you cuter.”

You groaned, but this time you couldn’t hide the grin. “You’re incorrigible.”

“And you’re cute.”

“Stop calling me cute,” you said, leaning forward to poke him in the chest. “Or I’ll start telling people you sleep with a stuffed lion.”

James gasped, feigning horror. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I would.”

“You wouldn’t expose Leonard like that,” he whispered, clutching his chest.

You blinked. “You named it?”

He colored slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well—uh—what do you expect? I’m not a monster.”

Unable to keep up the act, you burst into laughter, nearly doubling over as James turned a charming shade of pink.

“Alright, alright,” he said, laughing along with you. “Maybe you’re a little mean.”

You smirked. “Thank you.”

“But still cute.”

“James!”

“Sorry, love,” he said, leaning over the table to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “Can’t help the truth.”

You sighed, finally giving up. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re cute,” he repeated cheekily. “But don’t worry, it’ll be our little secret, yeah?”

You fought the smile that threatened to take over. “Fine. But if you call me cute one more time, I’ll tell Sirius about Leonard.”

He chuckled, resting his chin in his hands and looking at you with adoring eyes. “Worth it.”

[kinardsevan]

FYI, I'm crowdfunding a retirement plan for Tim and a place for you on the 911 writers team. I'm sure you can help them sort out the rest of the plots too!

I don’t know if this is genuine or sarcastic, so I’m just going to say this:

I don’t claim to know anything about media literacy. What I do understand is intricate plot and telling a compelling story. I also understand that from the end of 806, I said almost immediately “I feel manipulated”. This has deep personal connotations for me, but the point remains, and because of those personal relations, I get an actual “ick” about feeling manipulated. Now again, I have zero clarity one way or the other as to whether the manipulation is based out of them actually fucking this storyline up or if it’s because of the way they’re trying to pitch it to us as an “exit” and “ending”. Either way, that hasn’t left me.

All I know at the end of the day is that if these people don’t understand how to recover from this decision, they don’t belong in writing television. There’s also the point that I’ve made this week, that this is not the first time TM & Co have done something like this. They’ve done it with Madney. They’ve done it with Tarlos. We’ve even seen it to some degree with Bathena. What set us all off was the interviews, which we’ve all stated from day one were …odd. The thing that stays with me though, is the fact that not once has any one of these interviews stated “Tommy Kinard is gone for good”. I’ve read dozens of exit interviews (said this too earlier this week), and the only people CALLING it an exit interview, are the interviewers. Lou said the arc was over. By the very definition of what needs to be shared and said between BuckTommy for the reconciliation, he’s right. They’ve spanned the first arc of their relationship. Further, another thing that sticks out in my mind is his statement towards how he wouldn’t turn down playing Tommy again because, to his knowledge, there’s nothing else similar to their relationship happening on television. Which is SO important for representation. I also keep thinking about his tweet “keep the hope alive”. Obviously that can be read as he just wants more work… or it can be read as, there’s more coming, don’t give up on them yet.

Above all else, it’s the crowd reaction. We know the “other team” thinks this is all to tee them up into their pairing, and here’s my response to that:

One, it’s not. Because we know that’s now what TPTB want. But two, if it is, I hope they’re prepared for the mass exodus that takes place when all the people who DON’T want that pairing stop watching. And of course, those who do but don’t get the version of it that they want because RG and OS don’t want to play it the way the fandom thinks it should.

I’m not above saying that if they made them canon, I don’t think I’d stick around. It doesn’t serve the story, it spits in the face of what RG has been trying to communicate for years about himself and Hispanic men in general, and especially on the heels of this, it would feel dirty.

Anyway, I rambled on on this far longer than I meant to. Oops!

[satori-runa]

—Ties that bind

Summary: Your coworker turns into your boyfriend and soon enough decides to change that as well.

Tags: Established Relationship mostly, fluff, romance, slight angst

Words: 1k

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

You never expected your relationship with Leon Scott Kennedy to be anything special.

In fact, it started off as something messy and fragile. He had just come out of a rough breakup, left by his girlfriend when he made the move to Raccoon City. He was hurt and lost, but you were there, the sweet receptionist who always knew when he needed a pick-me-up. Your smile and kind gestures were a balm for his bruised heart.

Leon wasn’t typically a coffee drinker—the bitterness was something he normally avoided like the plague. But when you started bringing him a cup during his busiest hours, he found himself sipping it anyway. Your coffee was somehow different, sweeter, just like you. He could never bring himself to turn down something you made just for him, so he kept drinking it, even if it wasn’t his usual choice.

He finally gathered the courage to strike up a real conversation with you during one of those busy days. He fiddled nervously with his pen, glancing at the freshly brewed coffee you left on his desk. "Do you usually drink coffee?" he stammered out, wincing internally at how awkward he sounded.

You smiled, launching into a story about a small café you frequented that had the perfect blend. He listened intently, eyes wide in surprise when you casually invited him to visit it with you sometime. That’s how your first date happened: in a cozy vintage café filled with the smell of fresh coffee and old books. It felt right sitting there with him, sharing stories and laughter. Despite the chaos in Leon’s life, you clicked instantly. For the first time in a long while, he felt like he could start looking forward instead of lingering on the past.

Soon enough, you found yourself spending more time at his apartment than your own. It was full of little pieces of you now: the plushie he won for you at the carnival, a matching mug for your morning coffee sessions. His space felt cozier with your things in it, and Leon loved it. He cherished the way his home had become a reflection of the two of you together.

But lately, something felt off. Leon had become distant—no messages, no calls, not even a quick voice note. He hadn’t mentioned any trips or special missions at work, so you couldn’t help but worry. Maybe he just needed some space after a tough week, you told yourself, but that didn’t stop the gnawing ache in your chest. You decided to visit him at work, only to hear from his colleagues that he was fine, business as usual. Yet, the coffee you left for him the previous day sat untouched and cold, the sweet note you’d attached to it now crumpled on the floor. It stung.

Your heart sank even further when you found a note on your desk, written in Leon’s familiar scrawled handwriting: Come over tonight. No explanation, no hint of what was going on. It felt like a breakup note. You spent the entire day with a heavy weight in your chest, trying to prepare yourself for the worst.

Leon, on the other hand, had no idea. He’d left work early, practically racing home to get everything ready. He had been planning a surprise for days, avoiding you so he wouldn’t spoil it. He was a bit clueless, sure, but his intentions were pure. He wanted everything to be perfect.

When you knocked on his door that evening, you could barely keep it together. Your eyes were red and puffy, tears streaming down your face as you gripped your bag tightly. The second Leon saw you, his face fell. He didn’t understand why you looked so heartbroken. “If you’re going to break up with me, just make it quick,” you choked out, trying to keep your voice steady.

Panic shot through Leon like a jolt of electricity. Without thinking, he pulled you into his arms, holding you close and cradling your head against his chest. “Honey, no,” he whispered, his voice thick with desperation. “Shh, please. I would never break up with you.”

You pushed back slightly, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. “Then why haven’t I heard from you in three days, Leon? I thought you were avoiding me.”

He froze, realization dawning on him. “Three days?” He hadn’t even noticed how much time had passed. Between work and his secret planning, he’d lost track completely. “I’m so sorry, sunshine,” he murmured, brushing a tear away with his thumb. “I didn’t mean to leave you hanging like that. I was just... I was planning something. I promise it wasn’t on purpose.”

You blinked in confusion, but before you could respond, he gently took your hand and led you inside. The hallway was decorated with the picture frames you had helped him put up, little snapshots of happy memories. He guided you to the living room, where the smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air.

The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of candles casting a warm light over the coffee table. On it, he had set out your favorite snacks, the matching mugs filled with steaming coffee, and a photo album. But it was the small velvet box placed delicately on top that made your breath catch in your throat.

Leon turned to you, his expression soft and full of love. “How could I ever leave the woman I want to marry?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You stared at him, tears welling up in your eyes again, but this time they were tears of joy. He wasn’t pulling away; he was pulling you closer than ever. The realization hit you like a wave, and you couldn’t help but laugh, even as you cried.

Leon stepped closer, cupping your face in his hands. “I’m sorry I made you worry,” he murmured. “I wanted it to be a surprise. I wanted it to be perfect.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder. “You’re an idiot, Leon,” you said, but there was no anger in your voice, only relief and love.

He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I know,” he agreed. “But I’m your idiot.”

[gothamite-rambler]

Lex pt 2

Lex (in the middle of a long, boring story): I had Superman on the ropes. I could've killed him, but then freaking Batman ruined things!

Bruce (staring into his coffee cup): Tragic loss.

Lex: Right! I almost had him and then that jerk stepped in, but wait let me go back to what led up to that. You know, before Batman stepped in.

Bruce: Mm-hm.

Bruce stayed focused on his black coffee as Lex continued to drone on about this past incident, which Bruce didn’t believe, mainly because he was there as Batman. Lex didn’t almost kill Superman; he had kryptonite that Batman was able to swipe away quickly. Currently, though, he wasn’t Batman. He was Bruce Wayne, lost in his own thoughts.

Bruce (in his head): I'm so tired... I only got an hour of sleep. Younger me could keep going on forty-five minutes, but now I can barely focus. Is Lex still talking, he repeated this story once already?

Lex (continuing to ramble): I hired a good lawyer, though, and those charges were dropped! Great, right?

Bruce: Fantastic. Want to discuss another story about yourself?

Lex smiled, feeling this was an appreciation of him, when in reality, Bruce would rather be anywhere else at the moment but was too checked out to leave.

Clark (calling from a distance): Bruce?

Clark visited Gotham to search for Bruce, needing his aid for a plan involving Lex, who was currently in the middle of scheme in Metropolis. He wasn’t expecting his buddy to be out for coffee. Lex, thankfully unaware of who Clark Kent really was, had no idea why the reporter from Metropolis was in the fancier part of town.

Lex: Bruce, there’s a crazy person calling for you!

Bruce glanced behind his shoulder, then returned to staring into the dark liquid.

Bruce: That’s a friend of mine.

Clark heard Bruce say that and smiled happily.

Lex: A poor guy is your friend? As a joke or something?

Clark, having overheard what Lex said next, changed his smile to a stoic expression. He wasn’t surprised that even in civilian clothes, Lex couldn’t resist being a jerk to the middle class or poor. Clark made it to the table where Lex eyed him suspiciously while Bruce wondered what the graining specks in his coffee were.

Clark Kent (stammering): Bruce… Wh-Why is that random guy with you at this place?

Lex Luthor (rude): Random? That’s rich coming from you. Oh wait, you’re not rich either; I can tell. To spare my friend the stress, I’ll order you kindly to leave.

Clark clenched his fists tightly, staying next to Bruce and preparing to pull him away.

Clark: I’m here to see my best buddy! I was visiting Gotham to... get lunch with him at a good restaurant, not this fake French cuisine with tiny food and expensive prices.

Lex smirked, resting his arms on the table.

Lex: That was a long-winded way of saying you’re poor and taking him to a gross fast food joint.

Clark: Well, Bruce would disagree. He likes cheap and simple foods, right Bruce?

Bruce hummed while taking a long sip from his coffee, the bitter taste refreshing on his tongue as he felt his mind become less weary. Bruce raised an index finger as he downed the entire fancy clear mug of his black coffee.

Lex (judgmental glare): He’s ignoring you. Take that as a hint.

Clark: No, he’s tired and needs a minute.

With a playful smack, Clark tapped Bruce on the back of the head as Bruce placed the empty glass back on the saucer.

Bruce: All right, that tasted bitter. Just how I like my coffee. Clark, when did you get here?

Lex (chuckling): Oh, ouch! He wasn’t even aware you were near him. That’s what you get for hitting him. Who do you think you are?

Clark: More important to him than you, isn’t that right, Bruce?

Bruce (shrugging): I mean, I’d rather be at work.

Lex (oblivious): Bruce, I get it. This nuisance is bothering you. I’ve seen him in Metropolis. He’s just a paperboy.

Clark (shocked): Paperboy?!

Bruce (correcting): He’s a reporter and journalist at the Daily Planet.

Clark: That’s right!

Lex (laughing): A reporter? That’s hilarious. The fact that he thinks he’s friends with you is even funnier. I thought you bottom feeders were supposed to be good at research and noticing the obvious.

Bruce eyed Clark warily but remained silent since this wasn’t his villain.

Lex: Bruce, pal, what did you tell him? I need to know so I can use it on another poor person.

Bruce: We’re actually friends; there’s nothing deceitful about it.

Clark: Aww, thanks Bruce.

Lex scoffed, remaining doubtful about this, which only made Clark angrier.

Clark (tight smile): The crazy thing is, I recognize you. Lexie, was it? Insane billionaire, arrested numerous times but always walks away because of your money… Superman has beaten you to a pulp how many times? Lost count. Bruce, you know how many times he lost?

Bruce (dryly): I stopped counting after fifty.

Lex (clenching his jaw): Okay, my name is Lex. Lex Luthor, and the charges were dropped.

Clark (sarcastic): Yeah, daddy’s money does that for you.

Bruce cleared his throat, visibly annoyed.

Clark (stumbling over his words): Not—Not you, buddy. You haven’t committed serious crimes and then walked away because you threw money at the problem.

Lex: Okay, but he’s bailed his son out of jail a lot. Sorry, Bruce, just needed to prove a point.

Bruce shrugged, getting up to get another cup of coffee. Clark and Lex waited for a few seconds, silently judging the other man.

Clark (speaking first): I have to admit, though, Lex, you look less crazed and disheveled than you did in that mugshot where you got arrested for punching a yacht captain. Impressive, did you make sure to buy out the shirts they're selling of your mugshot on the front?

Lex: He told me he’d kick me off the ship when I did nothing wrong! And yes, I'm fighting for a copyright on the shirts! That's my money!

Bruce sat back down at the table with a new cup of coffee and took another sip.

Bruce: I’m going to take this with me.

Bruce poured the rest of the contents into a travel mug he brought with him, causing Lex to look on in shock.

Lex: He got that from you, Cline? Only poor people take leftover coffee with them!

Clark (gritted teeth): My name is Clark.

Lex (smirking): Paperboy, don’t you have a sensationalist, false story to write?

Clark: Hey, we fact-check all our sources! That was only in the '60s!

Bruce stared at his carrot cake, pondering if he should’ve gotten a different flavor.

Bruce: I should’ve gotten the strawberry cake. This is too dry.

Lex (glaring at Clark): I’m not sure what he told you, poor man, but he probably just said that you were friends to be nice. So I’m going to say this one last time: leave.

Clark clenched his fists, anger bubbling beneath the surface. Bruce sighed, standing up with his travel mug.

Bruce: Clark clearly needs me for something urgent, Alexander. My apologies, but I have to talk to him before he says or does something he regrets.

Clark gulped, holding his head down.

Bruce: We can meet up in three weeks.

Lex shrugged.

Lex: Works for me; we can discuss that merger you were interested in.

Bruce (shaking his head): I wasn’t, but put that in the back of your mind for next time. Clark, go the other way.

Clark (smugly): I will. Have the day you deserve, Alexander.

Lex: You call me Lex!

Clark walked off, smiling. Bruce raised his coffee as a sign of goodbye to Lex and followed behind Clark. Lex crossed his arms, perplexed at one thing and assuming the two were out of earshot.

Lex: Bruce is a strange man, but is he friends with that guy because he’s lonely? Geez, I have to find some middle-class people he can be around.

Clark groaned, unfortunately overhearing what Lex said.

Bruce: He’s talking about us?

Clark: Yes... I hate that guy. When were you going to tell me you were talking to that asshole? Is this like Arthur? What does he have that I don’t?

Bruce: Oh my God, for the last time, Arthur and I are friends. Get over it. With Lex, we got stuck in an elevator during a business trip. He kept rambling about the dumbest shit and blaming everyone for his crimes, but he assumed me barely responding meant I wanted to be his friend. He hasn't left me alone since.

Clark (nodding): That sounds about Lex.

Bruce chuckled, agreeing.

Bruce: Yep, today he caught me when I was tired and offered to buy me coffee. I couldn’t say no; it’s free coffee.

Clark (gently patting Bruce on the back): Also fair. Freaking Lex, trying to steal my best buddy.

Bruce: I can’t believe I’m in the middle of this. What did you actually visit for?

Clark (serious): Well, bad news... Lex is after Batman this time, and I thought you should know.

Bruce (concerned): How did you find this out?

Clark: A reporter has his ways of finding out because I'm a credible one. Not one that spreads false news!

Bruce: We are not even near him anymore; calm down. We can discuss the rest of this at the manor.

Clark: Perfect.

Clark placed his arm on Bruce’s shoulder, but the man sidestepped away, not in the mood.

pt 1

[jawsofjuno]

Thanks for the tag @gioiaalbanoart! I'm adding a chapter from a separate story called Stage One. Same ocs in an AU! (Alina meeting Eris in the lab instead of after it escapes) not finished, just something I've been doing on and off because I enjoy different scenarios. This part is still canon to Malignant though, which is why I'm adding it.

Stage One - Chapter one

Content Warnings: Slight torture/mention of torture, mention of feasting on human flesh.

Shrieks of agony rang out, echoing eerily off of the sleek, metal walls of the small containment chamber.

The little one could do nothing against the orange-suited, cruel human that was currently slicing its carmine biomass open as if it were nothing but a soft fruit. It had no control over any of its cells anymore, and wouldn’t until the weaponized aerated chemical had worn off.

All of the test subjects knew something bad was going to happen anytime that the aerosolized chemicals shot out from the small vents in each corner of the containment cells, but they had never been able to stop themselves from succumbing to its power.

None of them knew why the humans had brought them there in the first place, besides using them for their own gain to cure something that they called cancer. The lifeforms had been compared to the disease on many occasions, and the scientists thought that they could learn how to combat it by using the extraterrestrials in their research.

They had even come up with a scientific name for the creatures, calling them Endoparasitum. The term SIL, sentient infectious lifeform, was used frequently as well, but certain researchers preferred calling them abominations, a blight to mankind, and cancer incarnate, as if the creatures weren’t there by the humans’ choice to begin with.

Eris, who was watching its offspring being tortured from its own confines across the room had learned as much as it could about the strange species that had locked them away.

It was close to living out its plans for escaping, but the timing had to be just right for it to properly work. The humans still hadn’t learned of all of the things that its species could do, and it couldn’t wait to see the shock on all of their faces when it was too late for them to save themselves.

The little one, still officially unnamed by the researchers, hadn’t even been created by Eris’s own will. The researchers had collected eggs from it, and the other subjects, and grew them inside of an incubator. The process was unnatural, and resulted in all but one of them not even making it to the neonatal stage due to the researcher’s ignorance.

The one that did survive was the unlucky one. Eris couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for the runt, and knew that its entire existence would be nothing but pain and suffering if it didn’t act soon. It had only known that the youngling was its creation due to the fact that the egg batches had been separated and labeled, but its feelings about the situation wouldn’t have changed much if it had been another’s.

Several crimson tendrils slammed against the thick glass that separated Eris from the rest of the facility, keeping the humans safe for now. Its daily attempts at breaking the barrier had been futile. None of the other four adult subjects had successfully escaped either, but Eris had been formulating a plan.

It didn’t get along with any of the others, and was basically an outcast, due to reasons that the humans didn’t understand yet, but it still wasn’t going to leave them here to die when the time came to leave the place behind.

Troy tossed the steel blade to the side as he looked deep inside of the paralyzed youngling. “I know there’s something about you fucking abominations that we haven’t discovered yet, and I’m going to find it…you all seem to possess a higher intelligence than I originally thought, and I have a feeling that you all can understand me. Must be the human flesh scraps I’ve been tossing in there. Heh.”, he spoke loudly, making sure all of the extraterrestrials could hear his grating voice.

Eris felt an ounce of smugness at the fact that Troy still hadn’t figured it out yet. He hadn’t been entirely wrong; feeding them human remains had allowed them all to internally study the DNA that was brought into their biomasses.

Some used it to gain size, while others, like Eris, just converted the meat into energy, but they all stored the genetic codes in their system, waiting until the right time to use it properly. Troy never fed any of them enough for Eris to be able to even properly mimic something the size of a human, at least not yet. Gaining energy was the priority, then the mass.

Learning the behaviors of other lifeforms came as second nature to this foreign species. Humans were complex, especially their language, but it wasn’t impossible to study it from a distance, and understand what they were saying, especially after processing their varied DNA.

Eris had no idea what it was going to do once it actually left its sterile prison, or if the environment outside of the facility was even livable. The researchers had done an excellent job at not speaking about such things around the amorphous carnivores, but Eris would try to find out as much as it could before leaving in order to secure its own future.

It could hardly wait to sink its barbed tendrils into the large man’s supple flesh, and hear his screams for mercy. Soon, Troy would be nothing but a unrecognizable mess on the floor, it thought, as it menacingly stared ahead with many atramentous eyes.

---

Idk who to tag who hasn't been tagged yet, feel free to share anyways!

Xena’s Share Day

todays a free day! have something you wanna share? here’s your chance, doesn’t matter what it is!! lemme see it!

[glisten-inthedark]

I’m rewatching some of Mike and Will’s smaller scenes in season 2 ‘cause when I first watched season 2 I think it was really easy for me to fall into the trap of thinking all of Mike’s behavioral issues stemmed from missing & grieving El

And I still truly believe that’s a massive part of it because I think he has a form of survivor and almost caretaker’s guilt from El’s supposed death. He took care of El and then she singled him out in a goodbye and seemingly died protecting him and his friends. That is a helluva weight to carry around and he’s experiencing PTSD as the anniversary effect kicks into gear.

But in s2e1, before Will has to go into Hawkins Lab, Will is clearly down in the dumps in class because of the Zombie Boy note he got in his locker. We don’t see Mike notice, but later he says “He’s quiet today,” which shows that he did in fact notice his mood. Which is a really nice subtle parallel to Rink o’ Mania where we don’t see Mike noticing Will’s mood but then Mike himself reveals that oh yes, he has been incredibly aware of Will’s mood, attitude, and behavior.

I also just love how the camera focuses in on Mike when the boys are watching Will leave. The creators are screaming at the audience, “HOW MIKE FEELS RIGHT NOW IS YOUR PRIORITY,” and yet it’s so easy (at least it was for me, on my first watch) in Mike’s very next scene to take his moodiness as missing El, because we find out from his parents that he’s had behavioral issues all year, so my silly little brain went, “Oh, because of losing El.” But when the scene starts, before Karen even brings up the two boxes of toys for the yard sale, Mike is sullen and picking at his food.

And again, this is Mike’s next scene after they very intentionally focused on Mike being concerned for Will going to the lab. So he’s not picking at his food because of El—it’s because he’s worried about Will. (Contrasting Dustin & Lucas going to the arcade to watch Max, most of their focus on her.)

Then this dinner scene is followed by Nancy & the Holland’s dinner scene, which ends in Nancy experiencing her own guilt over losing her best friend….and only then do we get an El-focused scene for Mike. Directly after a deep display of grief and guilt from Nancy over her platonic best friend. In Mike’s scene with the toys, he sets aside Rory the dinosaur, which he and the audience associates with El…..except…..she showed zero interest in this toy in season 1. He also picks up the Millennium Falcon, which Dustin tried to get her to fly, but Mike never witnessed her actually levitating it. He associates it with Dustin’s attempt to make her fly it, but not her actually engaging with it.

And all the while, hovering over his head and shoulder, are Will’s drawings. After he picks up the Millennium Falcon, he’s framed between two of Will’s drawings.

Of course Mike misses El; he cares for her and he’s seen firsthand her communicate through the radio, and we’ve seen that he was able to sense her presence like Will did when he was in the UD, and he tells Will that he feels like he keeps seeing her, so I think El visiting him really heightened that need to keep reaching out, and also the guilt that would come with stopping reaching out. After all, in the scene in s2e1 when he uses his radio to reach out to her, it is absolutely Eleven whose voice we first hear, not Dustin. It sounds exactly like her. And then before Mike starts talking, we hear Dustin say “Mike?” and it sounds completely different. So imagine him experiencing that on and off for a whole year! The poor boy would struggle to move on so incredibly badly.

But before the basement scene, it was Will on his brain. Not El. Will was the reason he was sullen at dinner.

Idk I just think it’s so interesting how even though I’d rewatched season 2 a ton of times before season 4 and now, I had M*leven on the brain and so let that color how I perceived things and the assumptions I made.

Hello! Oh this is why I love getting asks, I didn't even notice all of this.

To be honest I also assumed his behavior change was due to El at first, but thought better of it not due to the things you noticed but because after I watched I thought about it and realized it was most likely a situation where there's a lot of trauma from what happened to El and what happened to Will intertwined.

I've talked about this before very on a surface level because no one here needs a psychology Ted Talk, but I truly believe El and Will are very enmeshed in Mike's brain due to trauma coping mechanisms.

Will disappears, he gets El. El gets Will back but disappears and he thinks she dies and she gets her back, connect this with Mike's internalized homophobia/biphobia and we have a recipe for his behavior down the line.