#and the importance of standing up for what is right

[kashverse]

Imagine someone making mama reader cry and minisukuna is just roasting who man her cry’s ass, while sukuna is trying to hold back from murder

i didn't wanna make the mamakuna's reading this cry, so have a bit of banter instead. i hope this is what you were requesting for!

rule number 1 in a sukuna family barbecue is to kiss the cook—aka mamakuna, aka you.

rule number 1.2? only babykuna and sukuna can kiss the chef. no exceptions.

but the most important rule—the one etched in stone, the one more sacred than sukuna’s secret steak rub recipe—is rule number 2:

never. insult. the cook.

so when yuki, choso’s plus one, decides to run her mouth at the absolute wrong time, saying, “not gonna lie, this chicken is kinda dry,” there is an immediate, deafening silence. choso, sitting next to her, freezes mid-bite, eyes darting around like he’s witnessing a live execution. nanami takes a slow sip of his beer, very wisely deciding he wants no part in whatever is about to happen. gojo, ever the shit-stirrer, grins and leans in. “oh-ho-ho, you done fucked up.” meanwhile, you? you just blink.

"oh?"

it’s just one word, but it’s enough to send chills down the spines of everyone within earshot. sukuna, who had been manning the grill (read: standing around looking important while you did all the real work), slowly sets down the tongs.

his jaw twitches. his veins pop. he looks two seconds away from committing murder.

"who made the food, yuki?" he asks, voice dangerously calm. yuki, still blissfully unaware of the shitstorm she’s just walked into, shrugs. "i dunno, the caterer?"

sukuna exhales through his nose, like he’s actively trying to keep his soul from leaving his body.

"your caterer is literally sitting right there," choso hisses under his breath, eyes darting to you. yuki, now finally putting two and two together, has the audacity to look sheepish. "oh. uhh…"

but before she can say anything else—

"DODOHEAD!!"

everyone turns to look at babykuna, who is fuming, tiny fists clenched, eyes ablaze with unwavering rage. "how dare you," she huffs, looking as offended as if yuki had personally spit on a framed picture of you.

"i—it’s not that deep—"

“SHAME ON YOU, POOPIEHEAD!!” babykuna stomps her foot, dramatically clutching her heart like she’s a widow in a soap opera. "mama’s food is the best in the whole world!"

"i didn't mean—"

"take it back!" babykuna demands. yuki blinks, caught between disbelief and fear.

"uh…?"

"TAKE. IT. BACK."

babykuna’s arm lifts. her grip tightens around the precious stuffed labubu in her hand. and before anyone can stop her—

"oh, hell no," sukuna mutters, finally snapping.

"you listen here, you ungrateful shit—"

"okay!" choso interjects, physically holding his brother back before this barbecue turns into a crime scene. 

"yuki," he hisses, “apologize before you get us both killed.” yuki, now 100% convinced she is not leaving this barbecue alive, raises her hands.

"okay, okay! i’m sorry!"

"say it like you mean it!" babykuna shouts, labubu still armed and ready.

"i mean it!!"

yuki, now sweating bullets, looks at you.

"your food is great. i love it. i’m sorry."

babykuna narrows her suspicious little eyes.

"hmph."

after ten long seconds of dramatic silence, she finally lowers labubu.

"...i forgive you."

yuki exhales in relief.

"but don’t do it again, dodohead!"

sukuna grumbles under his breath, still looking like he wants to throw hands. but then you, grinning, lean over and kiss his cheek. "down, boy," you tease. "i don’t need you getting blood on my good plates."

he grunts. “whatever.” but he still sends a glare yuki’s way.

“next time, i will let babykuna throw the labubu.”

[pbaz7]

ONE SHOT: HEAT CHECK

paige x azzi

warning: sexual content (whores 😒)

word count: 10.2k

A/N: This idea was not mine at all so all praise to the anon who sent me the prompt. I hope I was able to make your vision come to life lol. Let me know what you think! Very minimal proof reading this time so spare me

—————————————————————————

Paige had convinced herself she was fine, she was great actually. Really, she was.

Sure, her WNBA debut was one of the biggest moments of her life. Sure, she had spent the last 24 hours checking her phone, hoping for some last-minute miracle text from Azzi. But Azzi was in California for an endorsement meeting—one Paige knew was too important to miss.

It’s fine, she told herself again and again all day. She was now tugging at the hem of her warm-up shirt as she stood in the tunnel before tip-off. Azzi had sent her a long, sweet text a few hours ago, promising to watch the game no matter what. Paige could practically hear Azzi’s voice in the words, telling her she’d be amazing, that she’d be right there with her in spirit.

Still, it wasn’t the same.

She had wanted Azzi there. Needed her there, to fall into her arms after the game.

“Damn, P, you good?” Arike nudged her as they jogged back onto the court.

Paige blinked. “Yeah, why?”

“You just look... a little tense.”

Paige forced a grin. “It’s just the nerves.”

And it was. But it was also the fact that the one person she wanted to see in the stands—the only person whose opinion matters—wasn’t going to be there.

She glanced toward the front rows, taking in the packed arena. She couldn’t help but chuckle when she noticed some people.

Ice, KK, Sarah, Morgan and empty seats next to them surely for some other teammates.

They were one row back from the courtside seats, already settled in, talking amongst themselves. KK had her feet kicked out in front of her, looking completely at home, while Ice was scrolling through her phone. Sarah and Morgan were in conversation, but Paige could tell from the way Sarah was laughing that Morgan had just said something ridiculous.

A grin broke across Paige’s face.

But before she could even process it fully, the lights dimmed, signaling the start of player introductions.

She exhaled, shaking out her hands.

Okay. This was good.

Her people were here.

Well… almost all of them.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing herself to focus.

The first half of the first quarter had been a blur. Paige had settled into the game quickly, feeding off the energy of the packed arena, her nerves long gone as she focused on what she did best. She hadn’t even thought too much about Azzi—not because she didn’t want to, but because she couldn’t afford to.

Paige was sitting on the bench during a timeout when the crowd erupted out of nowhere, loud and excited, their cheers rising above the usual buzz of a timeout. Paige, confused, wiped her face with a towel and glanced at the jumbo screen, searching for whatever had them going crazy.

Paige swore her mouth went dry.

Azzi was sitting courtside, waving to the camera like she knew exactly what she was doing. Her hair was in goddess braids—her go-to summer look—but it wasn’t just the hair that caught Paige off guard. It was the entire outfit.

Cowboy hat. Cowboy boots. A very short jean skirt. And Paige’s #5 Dallas Wings jersey.

Azzi was chewing her gum lazily, her glossed lips moving slightly in the process. She turned her head toward the court, her gaze locking on Paige like she had been waiting for this exact moment. A slow, smirk tugged at her lips before she sent Paige a quick wink.

Paige felt her pulse stutter.

“Oh damn,” Lou murmured beside her, letting out a low whistle. “She looks hot.”

Paige exhaled sharply, shaking her head as she wiped her towel across her face again, as if that would somehow cool her down.

Azzi just kept smirking.

The timeout buzzer sounded, but Paige was still sitting there, gripping her towel, her mind catching up to the fact that Azzi had somehow made it. Had gone out of her way to be here. Had done it all without telling her.

She didn’t know whether to laugh or drag Azzi out of her seat as soon as the game was done.

One thing was for sure, though—she’d be thinking about that damn outfit for the rest of the game.

After the timeout, Paige tried to refocus, but it was impossible to ignore Azzi, sitting courtside, looking like that.

Paige was doing her best to stay locked in, but every time the ball left her hands, she felt a certain pair of brown eyes on her. When she drained a deep three from the wing, she knew exactly where to look.

Her gaze flickered to Azzi, who was already watching her, the corners of her lips tugging up in the smallest smile. She didn’t cheer, didn’t do anything flashy like their friends in the row behind her—just raised her eyebrows slightly, as if to say, that’s cute.

Paige fought back a smirk as she jogged back on defense.

She didn’t have time to get caught up in whatever game Azzi was playing. Paige and Arike were playing off of each other perfectly. Their ball movement was seamless, as if they had played together for years and the defense was scrambling to keep up. Every time the defense adjusted, they had another move ready, feeding off each other in a way that made it clear just how dangerous this duo was going to be in the future.

But then, late in the quarter, Paige had to inbound the ball—right in front of Azzi’s seat.

She swallowed, walking over as the cameras in the arena turned in their direction. The moment stretched between them, tension buzzing in the air as Paige took her place near the sideline.

Azzi, fully aware of the attention on them, just leaned back in her seat, crossing her legs as she sipped her drink through a straw. It was a simple action—calm, almost nonchalant—but Paige could smell her perfume, that warm vanilla scent mixed with something slightly sweet, and it had her clenching her jaw just a little tighter.

Azzi must have noticed because she glanced up at Paige through her lashes, her lips curving just slightly before she took another sip of her drink, covering her smirk behind the straw so the camera couldn’t see.

Paige exhaled through her nose, biting the inside of her cheek at the attention.

Azzi didn’t say a word.

She didn’t need to.

She already knew Paige was thinking about her.

The ref finally handed Paige the ball, and she shifted back into game mode, shaking her head slightly to clear her thoughts as she got ready to make the inbound pass.

…

As soon as the final buzzer sounded and the win was officially in the books, Paige barely registered anything else. The moment she finished the postgame handshakes, she was already untucking her jersey, her feet moving on autopilot toward Azzi and her old teammates waiting courtside.

Azzi didn’t stand right away. She let Paige greet Ice, KK, Morgan, and Sarah first, all of them pulling her into hugs, hyping her up.

“You were hoopin’ tonight girly,” KK grinned, giving her a playful shove.

Paige smirked, bumping her back. “You know I had to put on a show for y’all.”

Ice threw an arm around her shoulder. “Let’s be real—you didn’t start playing for real until you saw Azzi.”

Paige rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t even argue.

Finally, she turned to Azzi.

Azzi stood, her smile soft and her eyes warm as Paige immediately pulled her into a tight hug resting her head on Azzi shoulder. Paige held on for a second longer than necessary, inhaling the familiar scent of her perfume, her heart settling in a way it hadn’t all night.

When she finally pulled back, she let her eyes sweep over Azzi, her gaze dragging over the cowboy hat, the denim skirt, and—most importantly—her jersey over Azzi’s frame.

“You look good,” Paige mumbled, voice just low enough for only Azzi to hear.

Azzi’s lips curled into a smirk, her eyes flickering with something.

“I know.”

Paige let her eyes drag over Azzi, taking in every little detail. She licked her lips without thinking, fingers twitching slightly at her sides.

Azzi, catching the look immediately, gave her a warning glance. “Stop,” she mumbled, tilting her head slightly. “We’re in public, and there’s cameras everywhere.”

Paige barely blinked. “I don’t care,” she muttered, her voice a little low as she reached down and tugged discreetly at the hem of Azzi’s skirt. “When’d you get this?”

Azzi laughed, shaking her head. “Yesterday.”

Before Paige could respond, Lou appeared, sliding into the conversation with a huge grin.

“Azzi, you made it!” Lou beamed, pulling Azzi into a hug.

Paige took the opportunity to really look at her again, her gaze tracing over Azzi’s outfit, the way the jersey fit her just right, the way her legs looked in that skirt, the way she still had that damn smirk on her face.

Azzi felt her staring.

And she definitely wasn’t imagining the way Paige’s fingers brushed the back of her thigh before she pulled her hand away.

For a second Paige spent some time with her family, hugging her mom tightly, dapping up her dad, and joking around with her brothers and sister. The excitement from her first W game in Dallas was still buzzing around them, but before she could fully settle in, one of the staff members called her over telling her they wanted her for a postgame interview.

Before heading back, she found Azzi again, stepping up close as she spoke. “I’ll have Lou bring you the keys in a second.”

Azzi just nodded, her eyes still holding that same glint from earlier.

But before Paige could walk away, a photographer approached them, camera in hand, gesturing toward them for a picture.

Paige didn’t hesitate. She wrapped an arm around Azzi’s waist, pulling her in close, and Azzi melted into her, tilting her head against Paige’s shoulder. Her hand rested lightly on Paige’s stomach, fingers grazing the fabric of her jersey, and Paige swore she could feel the warmth of her touch through it.

The camera flashed.

Azzi smirked.

Then, they adjusted, shifting slightly as the photographer snapped more pictures.

In one, Paige held Azzi a little tighter, her fingers pressing into the soft denim of Azzi’s skirt. In another, Azzi turned slightly, her hand now resting a little firmer against Paige’s stomach.

Without even thinking about it, they turned toward each other.

For a moment, it was just them.

Azzi smiled first—it was small, soft, just for Paige—and Paige couldn’t help but mirror it, her grip tightening slightly on Azzi’s waist.

Click.

Paige barely heard the sound of the camera going off, but she knew that shit was about to be everywhere.

…

After showering and changing in the locker room Paige felt the exhaustion in her body, but the second she stepped into the garage and saw her car, that tiredness melted away.

She couldn’t fully see Azzi through the tint, but she knew she was in there.

A slow smile spread across Paige’s face as she walked past the driver’s side, stopping at the passenger door instead. She opened it, reaching inside and gently pulling Azzi out.

Azzi blinked at her, momentarily confused, adjusting her balance as she placed her cowboy hat on the seat behind her. "What are you doing?"

Paige just smiled, shutting the door before settling her hands on Azzi’s waist. Her gaze dragged over Azzi’s face, then down to her outfit—the denim skirt showing off just enough to make Paige’s pulse stutter.

“You look so good, baby,” Paige mumbled.

Azzi gave a small smile as she wrapped her arms around Paige’s neck. She hummed, tilting her head slightly.

“I know you already told me P.”

Paige chuckled under her breath, shaking her head. The moment felt thick now—like all the tension from the night had finally caught up to them.

She leaned in, her lips hovering just above Azzi’s, “The correct response is thank you baby.”

Azzi rolled her eyes and exhaled softly, her back pressing against the car as she followed Paige’s lead, tilting her chin up just enough to close the space between them.

The kiss was deep and desperate—the kind that made up for lost time. They hadn’t seen each other in over a week, and while that might not have been long for most people, for them, it felt like forever.

Paige’s tongue slid into Azzi’s mouth, her grip tightening as her hands moved under Azzi’s skirt, squeezing her ass.

Azzi let out a small sound at the feeling, a mix between a gasp and a pleased hum, pulling Paige closer as their bodies pressed together against the car.

They stayed tangled in each other for a while enjoying the feeling of the others lips after so long, But then Paige started trailing kisses down Azzi’s jaw, then lower, her lips brushing against the soft parts of her neck.

Azzi let out a breathy laugh, her hands coming up to Paige’s shoulders. “Alright, that’s enough ma’am.”

Paige mumbled against her skin, her voice muffled. “Come on, I miss you Az.”

Azzi smiled, tilting Paige’s chin up slightly so their eyes met. “I miss you too, baby, but we’re in public. And still in your place of work.”

Paige sighed dramatically, pulling back just enough to pout at her. “Fine.”

Azzi grinned before leaning in one last time, pressing a quick kiss to Paige’s lips, then turned toward the car. Paige exhaled, shaking her head fondly, before opening the passenger door for her.

As Azzi stepped in, Paige smiled, landing a playful smack on her butt. Azzi shot her a look over her shoulder, but the small playful smile on her lips betrayed her.

Paige shut the door, chuckling to herself as she made her way around to the driver’s side.

As Paige pulled out of the garage, steering them toward the afterparty, she finally got to ask the question that had been sitting in the back of her mind all night.

“How the hell did you even make it to the game?”

Azzi smiled, leaning back in her seat. “I moved my meeting up.”

Paige furrowed her brows, sparing a glance at Azzi before turning her attention back to the road. “To what time? It was already early as hell.”

Azzi shrugged slightly, like it was nothing. “Six.”

Paige’s head snapped toward her so fast she nearly forgot she was driving. “Six A.M.?”

Azzi hummed in confirmation, barely reacting.

“Baby, that’s crazy,” Paige said, shaking her head, still processing.

Azzi just shrugged again, scrolling on her phone.

Paige narrowed her eyes. “Did you close it?”

Azzi turned to her, giving her a look like she was almost offended by the question. “Of course.”

Paige grinned, reaching over and squeezing Azzi’s thigh. “That’s my girl.”

They kept talking as they drove, catching up even though they had talked every single day. Paige’s hand stayed resting on Azzi’s thigh, her fingers lazily tracing patterns over her skin as they talked.

Azzi didn’t mind. She let it stay there for most of the ride.

But then, at some point, Paige’s hand slid a little too high.

Azzi glanced at her, eyes narrowing. “Can you not?”

Paige didn’t even look at her, barely suppressing a smirk. “What?” she asked innocently, moving her pinky slightly just to prove a point.

Azzi scoffed. “You know what you’re doing.”

Paige smirked now, finally glancing at her. “I don’t know why you wore that skirt if you didn’t want me touching you.”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “I wore it for you.”

Paige grinned, turning her focus back to the road. “Exactly. So let me be.”

Azzi huffed, shaking her head, but she didn’t bother fighting it.

As they drove through the city, Paige glanced over at Azzi, who was casually scrolling through her phone.

“You know,” she started, drumming her fingers against the steering wheel, “if you would’ve told me you were coming, I probably would’ve played a lot better in the first few minutes of the game.”

Azzi grinned but didn’t look up. “And miss the chance to see your reaction when you noticed me on the jumbotron? Nah.”

Paige scoffed, shaking her head. “You’re rude.”

Azzi finally looked over at her, her smile softening. “You looked good out there, though baby I’m proud of you.”

Paige grinned, tilting her head. “Just good?”

Azzi sighed, playing along. “Fine. You looked great.”

“That’s more like it.” Paige reached over and squeezed Azzi’s thigh, then let her hand rest there again. “You staying with me for the whole month, right?”

Azzi nodded. “Yup. Figured I’d get tired of you after two weeks, but I’ll push through.”

Paige scoffed. “You love being around me.”

Azzi hummed. “You’re alright I guess.”

Paige gave her a look. “Bro please be for real.”

Azzi laughed, leaning back in her seat. “Okay, okay, yeah. I might love being around you all the time, just a little.”

Paige smirked. “That’s what I thought.”

They fell into a comfortable silence again, the only sound being the low hum of the car. After a moment, Paige gave Azzi’s thigh another squeeze before deciding to voice her thoughts.

“I want you to keep it on later,” she said, giving no context.

Azzi turned her head slowly, raising a brow. She didn’t need to ask what Paige meant—she knew.

“Who said you’re getting anything later?”

Paige shot her a quick look, deadpan. “Be for real Azzi.”

Azzi bit back a smile, letting the moment linger before finally sighing dramatically. “Whatever. I’ll think about it.”

Paige smirked as she pulled the car to a stop in front of the club. “Yeah, okay.”

As Paige handed her keys to the valet, she turned just in time to see Azzi stepping out of the car, holding down her skirt as she did so. Paige sighed, running a hand down her face.

“Nah,” she mumbled, eyes trailing down Azzi’s legs before flicking back up. “You’re not leaving my sight tonight.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but smiled, reaching for Paige’s hand and interlacing their fingers. “You’re so dramatic.”

Paige just shook her head. “I’m deadass.”

They walked into the venue, the bass from the music vibrating through the floor as they entered. The afterparty was already in full swing, players, friends, family and staff scattered across the club. Neon lights flickered over the bar, where bottles gleamed and loud laughter echoed over the music.

Before they could make it too far inside, a familiar voice rang out.

“P!”

Paige barely had time to react before Arike, already a few shots in, threw an arm around her shoulder. Her grin was as she pulled Paige in.

“We’re about to go crazy this year,” Arike yelled. “Tonight’s just the start rook.”

Paige laughed, nodding along. “You’re not wrong.”

Arike squeezed her shoulder before letting her go, and moving back toward the dance floor.

Paige turned toward Azzi, who just gave her an amused look. “She’s so different from what I expected.”

Paige laughed. “Bro just give her three more shots, and she’s gonna pull out a bible and make them turn off the music.”

Azzi chuckled as Paige nodded toward the bar. “C’mon, I see Lou, Ice, and KK.”

They made their way over, spotting them leaning against the counter, drinks in hand. Ice was mid-sip when she noticed them, setting her drink down with a smile.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” Ice teased, nudging KK. “And look at Paige bro.”

KK snorted, giving Azzi an exaggerated once-over. “I see why. Azzi, you tryna get someone in trouble tonight?”

Azzi rolled her eyes but smiled. “I literally just got here, and y’all are already on me?”

Lou laughed, sipping her drink. “You did walk in looking like that, though. You knew what you were doing.”

Paige hummed, wrapping an arm loosely around Azzi’s waist. “Exactly what I’ve been saying.”

Azzi just shook her head, leaning into Paige slightly. “Y’all are ridiculous.”

Lou raised her glass. “To another season and all of Paige’s sanity being tested.”

…

Paige and Azzi leaned against the bar, the bass of the music making the floor vibrate as they waited for another shot to accompany the drink they already had. The club was packed now. Paige had one arm draped loosely around Azzi’s waist, absentmindedly tracing her thumb over the fabric of her jersey as she barely listened to what Ice, KK, and Lou were saying.

Azzi took a slow sip from her glass, her lips wrapping around the straw before smirking at Paige. “You gonna keep staring at me, or you actually gonna drink yours?”

Paige huffed a laugh, taking a sip, eyes still on Azzi. “Hard not to when you’re wearing that.” Her hand brushed against the hem of Azzi’s short denim skirt, making Azzi arch an eyebrow at her.

“You’re horny,” Azzi murmured, leaning in just slightly so only Paige could hear.

Paige just grinned, shrugging. “I’ve been told.”

Their easy back-and-forth continued as they downed a couple of drinks, the warmth settling in and loosening them up. They weren’t being overly affectionate—just hanging out, laughing with their friends, letting the night settle around them. At one point, Lou challenged them to a ridiculous game of guessing random people’s professions just based on their outfits, and Paige and Azzi found themselves doubled over when KK confidently said some guy was a lawyer, only for him to turn around wearing a DJ staff badge.

Just as Paige was finishing her drink, she noticed Arike waving her over from a section across the club. With a smirk, she turned to Azzi, reaching up to flick the brim of her cowboy hat playfully.

“I’ll be right back, beautiful,” she murmured, her voice just low enough for Azzi to feel it more than hear it.

Azzi tilted her head. “Don’t take too long,” she said simply, sipping her drink again as Paige walked away.

A few minutes after Paige left Azzi was mid-sip of her drink when she felt someone slide up next to her at the bar. She barely had time to set her glass down before she heard a voice— one with a beach accent and distinctly unfamiliar.

“Hi, I’m Sevgi, but most people call me Sev. Or Gi.”

Azzi turned slightly, taking in the dark-haired woman beside her. Sevgi’s accent was thick, her posture confident as she leaned against the bar. Azzi, assuming she was just introducing herself as one of Paige’s new teammates, smiled politely and shook her hand.

“Azzi.”

Sevgi held her gaze, her lips forming into a smile. “You’re beautiful, Azzi.”

Azzi almost choked on her drink. She set it down quickly, grabbing a napkin to wipe her lips before forcing a tight smile. “Uh… thanks.”

Sevgi’s expression remained relaxed, like she hadn’t just casually caught Azzi off guard. “I’ve watched a few UConn games but I haven’t seen you around before. Did you move to Dallas?”

Azzi shook her head, sipping her drink again. “No, I don’t live here yet. I’m just visiting Paige for a while before going back to school.”

Sevgi’s gaze flickering toward where Paige was standing talking to Arike before settling back on Azzi. “Ah, so you’re here for Paige?” She hummed as if processing something. “Seems like a lot of people are, they love her already around here.”

Azzi simply hummed, confused by the comment. Suddenly wondering where the hell Ice and KK disappeared to.

Sevgi took another sip of her drink before smiling. “Paige Bueckers. One of the best to ever do it they say.” Her eyes flickered over Azzi’s face, her voice dropping just slightly. “I think she’s even luckier than I realized.”

Azzi’s brows lifted, her body tensing slightly as she finally clocked what was happening.

Before she could fully react, Sevgi leaned in just a fraction, lowering her voice like she was letting Azzi in on a secret. “I have a thing for shooters,” she said, her tone light but suggestive. “Especially ones with eyes like yours.”

Azzi, not really knowing how to navigate this, just says “Huh….”

Sevgi grinned, her fingers lightly drumming against the bar. “Mm. There’s something about precision, about the way a shooter locks in. So much focus, so much control…” Her voice dipped just slightly as she added, “It’s very attractive.”

Azzi exhaled through her nose, half amused by the attempt, half uncomfortable. She wasn’t sure if Sevgi just had a naturally flirtatious personality or if she genuinely had no idea that Azzi was very much taken.

Just as she opened her mouth to say something—anything to shift the conversation—she felt an all-too-familiar presence beside her.

Paige, who had returned from talking to Arike and was now standing between them with an unreadable expression.

Azzi barely had time to react to her presence before Paige’s hand was resting on the back of her neck.

“You’re a little close there, Gi, no?” Paige’s voice was light, but there was a slight edge beneath it that Azzi caught.

Sevgi turned her attention to Paige, offering a smooth smile. “I was just getting to know your—” she glanced at Azzi as if choosing her words carefully, “—your beautiful friend from UConn.”

Paige’s jaw tensed slightly, but she didn’t let it show, her fingers subtly tightening against Azzi’s neck. “Yeah? Well, my beautiful girlfriend doesn’t need any new friends tonight.”

Azzi bit the inside of her cheek, holding back a smirk.

Sevgi’s smile didn’t waver. “You know rook, in my culture, we don’t limit beautiful women to just one.”

Paige’s jaw tightened at that comment. “Look, Gi,” she said, her voice calm, “I really don’t know you that well yet, so I don’t know if you’re trying to be disrespectful or not, but I really hope that’s not the case.”

Sevgi held her gaze for a moment longer before raising her hands in mock surrender. “No disrespect. Just an observation is all.”

Paige didn’t blink. “Yeah? Well, here’s another one since we’re giving out observations—you’re standing too close to my girl.”

Sevgi exhaled, taking a small step back. “Noted.” She gave Azzi one last lingering look before saying, “Still… you’re stunning.”

Paige let out a sharp breath, her patience wearing thin.

Azzi, deciding to cut things off before Paige really lost her temper, gave Sevgi a polite but firm smile. “Appreciate it, but I’m good where I’m at. Really.”

Sevgi smiled but didn’t push further. “Fair enough.” She grabbed her drink and disappeared back into the crowd.

As soon as Sevgi was gone, Paige turned fully toward Azzi. Her jaw was still tight, but her eyes softened slightly as she took in Azzi’s amused expression.

“I leave you alone for two seconds,” Paige muttered, shaking her head.

Azzi laughed, looping her arms around Paige’s neck and pulling her in closer. “Not my fault I look good.”

Paige huffed, her fingers tugging at the hem of Azzi’s skirt. “It’s because of the skirt.”

Azzi let out another laugh, glancing down. “You can barely see my skirt—I’m sitting down.”

Paige hugged her tighter, her lips brushing against Azzi’s ear as she said, “Exactly. It’s too short.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You weren’t saying that when you were grabbing my ass in the garage.”

Paige’s expression flickered for a moment before a smile spread across her lips. “Mmm… you make a good point.”

Before Azzi could respond, Paige pulled her up from her seat, and palmed her ass with both hands, squeezing firmly.

Azzi gasped, half-laughing. “Paige—”

“What?” Paige murmured, leaning in, voice dropping lower. “You were making a good point baby.”

Azzi exhaled, biting her lip as she shook her head. “You’re a perv.”

Paige rolled her eyes, completely unbothered. “No, I’m not. You’re my girl.”

Azzi huffed like she was annoyed, but the way she wrapped her arms fully around Paige’s head said otherwise. She pulled Paige in, pressing their lips together in a kiss. Paige responds immediately, squeezing her closer. The music and noise of the club faded into the background, the warmth of the moment making Azzi’s fingers tighten slightly in Paige’s hair.

Paige gave Azzi’s butt another squeeze, deepening the kiss, but just as she was about to take it a step further, Azzi mumbled against her lips, “I’m bored.”

Paige pulled back just enough to look at her. “Kissing me is boring now?”

Azzi rolled her eyes, fingers still playing with the hairs at the back of Paige’s neck. “No, us being here is boring.”

Paige smirked. “Oh yeah? What you wanna do then?”

Azzi tilted her head slightly, eyes flickering over Paige’s face as she tugged at the jersey she was wearing. “Go home,” she murmured. “Maybe show you how much I miss you… wear this for you like you want me to.”

Paige let out a quiet laugh. “Yeah come on, we’re leaving.”

The drive back to Paige’s apartment was quiet, the soft hum of music playing in the background as the Dallas city lights blurred past them. Azzi’s hand rested lightly over Paige’s, which had been sitting comfortably on her thigh since they got in the car. Neither of them had spoken much.

Paige was focused on the road, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns against Azzi’s skin, but then she felt Azzi’s hand shifting, guiding Paige’s palm higher up her thigh. Paige’s grip instinctively tightened for a brief second before she shot her a look.

“Azzi,” she warned.

Azzi just hummed, acting innocent as she leaned over the center console, playing with the short hairs at the back of Paige’s neck. Paige swallowed hard, keeping her eyes locked on the road.

“You’re gonna make me crash,” Paige muttered, her jaw clenching slightly.

Azzi smirked, watching her with that look in her eyes. “Then keep your eyes on the road, baby.” Her fingers still tracing over Paige’s skin, her nails lightly scratching at the nape of her neck just to make her shiver.

Paige exhaled through her nose, trying to ignore the heat creeping up her spine, but then she felt Azzi shift closer, pressing a soft, fleeting kiss to the side of her neck.

“Azzi.” This time, her voice was rougher.

“Hmm?” Azzi responded innocently, her lips grazing against her again.

Paige let out a slow breath through her nose, gripping the wheel a little tighter as she cast a quick glance at Azzi. A smirk was playing on her lips like she knew exactly what she was doing.

“What you doing, baby?” Paige asked, her voice lower now.

Azzi’s lips brushed against her jaw again, just barely. “I just miss you,” she murmured, her fingers still tracing soft patterns at the back of Paige’s neck.

Paige exhaled sharply but didn’t stop her. “You’re making it hard to drive, pretty girl.”

Azzi leaned back slightly, but not enough to fully retreat, still draped over the center console. “You’ve done more while you were driving before.”

Paige shot her another side glance, smirking now. “I remember. You couldn’t wait until we got home.”

Azzi hummed, tilting her head slightly. “Exactly. I had on jeans if I remember correctly.”

Paige swallowed, her jaw tightening as the memory rushed back to her. She nodded, gripping the wheel a little harder.

Azzi’s gaze flickered down to Paige’s hands before she spoke again, her voice quieter, almost too casual for what she was implying. “I have on a skirt now.”

Paige’s knuckles went white on the wheel.

Paige glanced at her, eyes flickering over her face before settling on her lips for just a second too long. “You drunk or something, baby?” she asked.

Azzi met her gaze. “No,” she said simply. “I told you, I just miss you.” She shifted slightly, her nails tracing absentmindedly over the back of Paige’s hand. “You think I dressed like this for fun?”

Paige swallowed, her throat suddenly feeling dry. Without thinking, she moved her hand up, her pinky brushing lightly against Azzi’s inner thigh.

Azzi let out the softest sigh, barely audible over the low hum of the music. She didn’t say anything, just leaned back and watched her.

Paige exhaled, shaking her head as a slow smirk spread across her lips. “You really tryna kill me tonight, huh?”

Azzi smiled, leaning her head back against the seat. “No. Not yet.”

Paige’s pinky traced slow, deliberate circles against Azzi’s underwear. She kept her eyes on the road, but the slight smile on her lips told Azzi she was enjoying this.

Azzi exhaled softly, shifting just a little, her breath hitching when Paige’s fingers pressed firmer for half a second before retreating, barely there.

Paige hummed. “You were saying?” she mused.

Azzi bit her lip, eyes dark as she glanced over at Paige. “I said… not yet.” Her voice was breathier now, betraying the effect Paige’s teasing was having on her.

Paige chuckled under her breath, her fingers tracing lazily along Azzi’s center, never quite moving where Azzi wanted but never pulling away either. Every so often, her knuckles would graze a little firmer, making Azzi’s legs tense slightly before relaxing again.

Azzi let out another quiet sigh, her fingers curling against the seat. “You’re playing too much,” she said, her voice laced with some frustration.

Paige turned her head just enough to meet her gaze, her smile growing. “Oh, now I’m the one playing?” She pressed her fingers a little more firmly, dragging them slowly along, savoring the way Azzi’s breath hitched again.

Azzi inhaled sharply, her whole body tensing in anticipation the moment Paige’s hand slipped beneath her underwear. Her eyes fluttered shut, a soft breath escaping her lips as she waited.

But then, suddenly, the warmth of Paige’s touch was gone completely.

Azzi’s eyes snapped open just in time to catch Paige lifting her thumb to her mouth, sucking on it.

Paige’s expression was casual, her eyes locked on the road, one hand steady on the wheel.

Azzi let out a sharp exhale, half frustration, half disbelief. “You’re such an asshole.”

Paige hummed around her thumb before popping it out with a smirk. “Oh, now I’m an asshole?” She flicked her gaze over to Azzi, blue eyes sparkling. “But I thought you missed me?”

Azzi clenched her jaw, narrowing her eyes as she shifted in her seat. “I do.” Her voice was firm, but there was a slight pout forming on her lips.

Paige chuckled under her breath, shaking her head. “Then be patient, baby.” Her hand returned to Azzi’s thigh, but this time, it was just resting there.

Azzi huffed, crossing her arms. “You’re mean.”

Paige fired back instantly, her smile only growing. “And you’re a brat.”

Azzi scoffed, shifting in her seat again so she was leaning away from Paige. “Maybe if you weren’t being so mean, I wouldn’t have to be.”

Paige let out a chuckle, squeezing Azzi’s thigh before pulling back again, just to be a tease. “Oh, is that how it works? So it’s my fault?”

Azzi turned her head to look at her. “Obviously.”

Paige bit back a grin, keeping her eyes on the road. “Sounds like someone needs to learn the word patience.”

Azzi let out a scoff. “I think someone needs to stop talking and drive faster.”

Paige hummed in amusement. “Oh, now you want me to focus on driving?” She shot Azzi a quick glance, lifting a brow. “Wasn’t that an issue, like, five minutes ago?”

Azzi exhaled through her nose, shaking her head. “That was different.”

Paige laughed softly, reaching over to tug at the hem of Azzi’s jersey, pulling her slightly closer. “Mm. Convenient.”

Azzi let out a quiet groan, flopping back in her seat. “I hate you.”

Paige just chuckled again, squeezing Azzi’s thigh one last time before finally giving in and stepping on the gas just a little harder.

As Paige pulled into the garage, she barely had the car in park before Azzi was already unbuckling her seatbelt and pushing the door open.

Paige watched in amusement as Azzi slipped out, her long legs moving toward the house without so much as a glance back. Paige let out a chuckle, shaking her head as she turned off the engine.

By the time she made it inside, Azzi was by the entryway, bent down as she worked on taking off her cowboy boots. Paige let her eyes roam, taking in the way Azzi’s skirt rode up completely with the position, exposing more of her toned legs. Smirking, Paige stepped up behind her, hands easily finding her hips before she rolled her hips forward, playfully pressing into her.

“Don’t be like that, baby,” Paige murmured.

Azzi sucked in a sharp breath before immediately shoving her off, making Paige stumble back a step. She stood up, kicking off her boots without sparing Paige a glance before walking deeper into the house.

Paige chuckled, licking her lips as she followed. “Oh, so now you’re ignoring me?”

Azzi still didn’t say anything.

Paige smirked, enjoying this way too much. “Why you being like that, baby? I thought you missed me?”

Azzi exhaled, her hands clenching briefly at her sides, but she kept moving.

Paige trailed behind her grinning. “Mmm. What happened to all that talk in the car?”

Just as she reached the bedroom door, Azzi stopped. She turned her head slightly, finally meeting Paige’s gaze.

Paige smirked at that, stepping into the bedroom with an easy confidence. Azzi followed closely behind, her eyes immediately catching on something new.

“When’d you get that?” Azzi asked, nodding toward the large mirror now positioned perfectly in the room.

Paige’s smile grew, as she leaned casually against the dresser. “Got here yesterday.”

Azzi hummed, her gaze flicking between the mirror and the bed, taking in the angle, mentally mapping it out. Her lips curved slightly. “I like it.”

Paige pushed off the dresser, stepping closer until she was right in front of Azzi, tilting her chin up.

“That’s why I got it.”

Azzi rolled her eyes and tried to walk away again, but Paige was quicker, grabbing her wrist and pulling her back with little effort.

"Stop being a brat.”

Azzi just looked at her, lips pressed together, refusing to respond. Paige wasn’t fazed. Instead, she tugged her closer by the waist, dipping her head to press a kiss to Azzi’s neck.

"Let me get rid of that attitude for you," Paige whispered, her lips dragging against Azzi’s skin.

For a moment, Azzi’s resolve wavered. Her breath caught, and she instinctively tilted her head to the side, granting Paige more access. But just as quickly, she remembered why she was mad. With a sharp exhale, she planted her hands on Paige’s shoulders and shoved her back—not hard enough to truly push her away, but enough to make a point.

Paige only laughed, her tongue brushing over her bottom lip as she grinned. "Oh, you’re really mad, huh?"

“Yes you called me desperate.”

Paige’s jaw dropped. “Bro, no I didn’t.”

Azzi’s glare was instant. “Don’t ‘bro’ me.”

Paige sighed, pulling Azzi closer again, her hands resting firmly on her waist. “Baby, I did not call you desperate.”

Azzi didn’t budge. “You basically did.”

Paige huffed out a small laugh, shaking her head before dipping down to press slow, open-mouthed kisses against Azzi’s neck. “I didn’t,” she muttered between kisses. “But even if I did, it doesn’t matter.” Her lips traveled lower. “You know I love it when you’re like that for me.”

Azzi’s breath hitched, her body betraying her as her head tilted again, granting Paige more access. But she didn’t fully give in—her hands remained stubbornly at her sides, her posture still carrying the weight of her petty grudge.

Paige smirked against her skin, nipping just lightly before pulling back. “What I gotta do to make it up to you, baby?”

Azzi’s lips finally formed a smile at that, looking at her. “I wanna go back to the car.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “We have a whole house, baby. Why you wanna go to the car?”

Azzi shrugged, but there was a glint in her eyes. “Because we haven’t fucked in your new car yet.” She let that sink in before adding casually, “And it’s bigger than your Jeep.”

Paige scoffed, about to respond when Azzi leaned in close, her breath warm against her ear.

“And,” Azzi murmured, right before biting down softly on Paige’s earlobe, “you can’t run from me in the car.”

Paige swallowed hard, her eyes fluttering closed for a brief second as she licked her lips. She nodded—maybe a little too eagerly—before mumbling, “Okay… yeah, we can go to the car. Whatever you want.”

Azzi beamed at that, turning on her heel and heading toward the closet immediately. Paige watched her, smirking when she saw the first thing Azzi grabbed. But then her smirk dropped completely when she saw the second.

Her brow furrowed. “What’s that for?”

Azzi barely glanced at her as she responded, “You know what it’s for.”

Paige’s stomach tightened as she watched Azzi casually walk out of the bedroom, clearly expecting her to follow. She hesitated for a second before trailing behind her, saying, “I almost died last time we tried that.”

Azzi threw a smile over her shoulder. “Well, you shouldn’t have called me desperate.”

Paige groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “She’s about to kill me,” she mumbled under her breath, shaking her head as she followed Azzi out of the room, through the house, and straight into the garage.

Paige got in the car first pushing both front seats forward to create more space. She moved with ease, but there was still an underlying tension in her movements—anticipation low in her stomach as she adjusted the seats. Once she was satisfied, she leaned back, expecting Azzi to climb onto her lap like she always did.

But instead, Azzi leaned forward, connecting her phone to the car’s Bluetooth. Paige watched her, eyebrow raising slightly as Azzi scrolled through her playlists, carefully ensuring the engine wasn’t actually on before the speakers filled the car.

Paige exhaled through her nose, smirking as she rested her hands on her thighs. “You settin’ the mood or something?”

Azzi didn’t answer. She took her time, adjusting the volume, tilting her head as if she was testing how the music sounded in the space. Then, finally, she settled in the back seat, straddling Paige hips, her hands finding their place on Paige’s shoulders.

Paige’s smile grew as her hands settled on Azzi’s waist. “That a yes?” she teased.

Azzi smiled, leaning in so her lips just barely brushed Paige’s. “Stop talking.”

Paige nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yes, ma’am.”

Azzi didn’t give her a chance to add anything else before she closed the distance, her lips molding against Paige’s in a kiss that she led with confidence. Her tongue slipped past Paige’s lips, exploring her mouth like she owned it, and Paige let her—let her take, let her have, let her do whatever she wanted.

Paige’s hands found Azzi’s butt, pulling her in until there was nothing between them, her fingers flexing underneath Azzi’s skirt.

It was always a miracle how long they could stay like this—kissing and learning each other over and over again—until their lips were almost raw and they were both burning from the inside out.

Paige was completely under Azzi’s control, gripping her like she was afraid to let go, as Azzi’s hand wrapped securely around her neck. Every time Paige tried to shift, to gain a little more, Azzi only tightened her grip, keeping her where she wanted.

When Paige finally broke away from the kiss, her breathing was uneven and her lips were tingling. “Baby, please.”

Azzi looked down at her. “Please what?”

Paige groaned, her hands sliding up Azzi’s back in frustration. “I need something.”

Azzi hummed, tilting her head as if she was considering it . “Mm.” She leaned in, brushing her lips over Paige’s jawline before trailing down to her neck.

Azzi smiled, running her fingers through the hair at the nape of Paige’s neck, tugging just enough to make Paige suck in a breath. She moved up, her lips barely grazing the shell of Paige’s ear as she whispered, “I haven’t even done anything yet.”

Paige let out a shaky exhale, her fingers flexing against Azzi’s thighs before she murmured, “That’s the problem, baby.”

She tried to slide her hands up, reaching for the hem of Azzi’s skirt, but before she could make contact, Azzi caught her wrists, intertwining their fingers as she pinned them down. “I didn’t say you could do that.”

Paige sighed, tightening her jaw as she let her head fall back against the seat in surrender. She was burning with impatience, but she knew better than to fight Azzi on this—not when she was playing her little game.

Azzi took full advantage of the position, tilting her head to press slow, open-mouthed kisses down the side of Paige’s throat, occasionally nipping at her skin just to feel the way Paige shuddered beneath her. Paige sighed heavily, groaning here and there, murmuring pleas in between sharp intakes of breath. But every time she tried to coax Azzi into more, Azzi only chuckled against her skin, whispering smug remarks in return.

“You getting desperate, baby?”

Paige groaned. “Azzi—”

Azzi licked a long trail up her neck. “Mmm. You’re cute when you beg P.”

Paige scoffed. “I’m not begging.”

Azzi pulled back slightly, tilting her head. Then she smirked. “You don’t want me?”

Paige swallowed hard, her hands twitching where Azzi still had them pinned. “Course I do.”

Azzi hummed in satisfaction before whispering, “Then beg for it.” She bit down a little harsher this time, drawing a sharp inhale from Paige before soothing the spot with her tongue.

Paige held firm, refusing to give in so easily. She just let Azzi work her way along her neck knowing exactly how to unravel her. But Azzi knew this little front of Paige’s all too well. Knew the stubbornness. Knew exactly how to break it.

So she shifted, pressing her hips down just a little more, her breath fanning against Paige’s ear as she let out the softest moan.

Just like that, Paige cracked. “Fuck—Az, please, baby.”

Azzi smiled. “Please what, Paige?”

Paige groaned, her voice rough. “Lemme get you right.”

Azzi chuckled at that, pulling back just enough to meet Paige’s gaze. “Oh? Is that what’s gonna happen?”

Paige only hummed in response, her hands finally breaking free to palm at Azzi’s butt, pulling her in closer.

Azzi just smiled down at Paige as her fingers worked at the buckle of Paige’s belt, taking her time, teasing her without any words. Paige just watched her, eyes hooded, a small grin tugging at her lips.

Azzi caught the expression and arched her eyebrow. “What are you smiling at?”

Paige exhaled a soft chuckle, tilting her head back slightly against the seat. “You look good.”

Azzi hummed at that, feigning nonchalance, but the way her lips curled told a different story. “Yeah?”

Paige’s eyes flicked between Azzi’s hands and her face, her grin widening just a little. “Yeah. Real good.”

Azzi shook her head, amused, but didn’t argue.

Once Paige’s belt was undone, Azzi slipped off her lap simply saying, “Take off your clothes,” as she began to unzip her own skirt.

Paige immediately obliges, tugging at her clothes, ripping them off as if they were on fire. Once they were off, she reaches for the harness silently praying Azzi doesn’t remember what else she grabbed.

Azzi chuckles at this, reaching over Paige to grab the small vibrator she had sitting there. She looks at Paige expectantly, not saying anything as she pushes it toward her.

Paige sighs as she takes it from Azzi’s hand and slides the vibrator into the slits of the harness, turning it on before she pulls the harness against herself, taking a sharp breath immediately at the feeling.

Once Paige was situated Azzi climbed back onto her lap, settling on her thighs first as she gathered her long braids, moving them to one side. Paige watched her, eyes hazy, the desire in her eyes unmistakable.

“Nah,” Paige murmured, voice rough. “You need to get on it now.”

Azzi chuckled softly, dragging the moment out just a little longer before she lifts her hips up and eases herself on top of Paige slowly, letting out a quiet sigh as she did.

Paige’s reaction was instant. Her head fell back against the seat, a deep groan escaping her lips. “Fuck baby,” she breathed, arms lifting to rest on the back of the headrests, fingers flexing as she tried to keep herself from reaching for Azzi knowing she wouldn’t last long if she did.

Azzi kept her eyes locked on Paige as she rolled her hips moving like she was putting on a performance just for her. A teasing smile on her lips as she watched Paige try not to unravel beneath her.

Paige’s head was still thrown back against the seat, arms stretched over the headrest like she was watching a show—but the longer Azzi moved, the harder it became for her to keep up the act. Her jaw tightened, eyes fluttering closed as she swallowed hard.

Azzi smirked at that. She leaned forward, grabbing Paige’s arms from the headrest and guiding them around her waist, forcing Paige to hold her. As soon as Paige’s hands found their place on Azzi’s hips, Azzi tangled her fingers into Paige’s hair, tugging gently as she whispered near her ear, “You’re supposed to be watching, baby.”

A low moan escaped Paige’s lips. “I can’t, baby.”

Azzi hummed in amusement, her movements never faltering as her own breath got a little uneven. “Why not?”

Paige sucked in a breath, struggling for words. “Because…”

Azzi chuckled, her breath warm against Paige’s ear. “That’s not a full sentence,” she teased, letting a soft gasp slip as she pressed herself closer.

Paige groaned, tightening her grip on Azzi’s waist as she felt the deliberate push against her. Azzi pulled back slightly, her fingers grazing the hem of Paige’s jersey she had on, lifting it just enough to make Paige’s breath hitch. The slow, torturous pace was getting to her.

Paige was never one to let Azzi have all the control. Wanting to turn the tide in her favor a little, she lifted her hips into her, just enough to catch Azzi off guard. Azzi let out a sharp moan, her eyes fluttering closed as the movement sent a jolt through her.

Mmm, what happened, baby?” Paige purred, her voice dripping with amusement as she tilted her head, watching Azzi’s every move. Her hands slid down to Azzi’s ass, fingers tightening as she pulled her even closer, grinding against her slowly. “Getting a little lost, huh?”

Azzi’s breath hitched, her hands gripping Paige’s arms for leverage. “Probably you more than me.”

Paige’s grin widened as she felt Azzi’s breath stutter, the slight hesitation before she recovered. “Mmm, I don’t think so baby,” Paige whispered as she lifted Azzi’s hips completely before pushing them back down.

Azzi’s jaw tightened, refusing to let Paige see just how much she was getting to her. Instead, she retaliated, rolling her hips, pressing down against Paige in a way that forced a sharp inhale from her lips.

The smirks on both of their faces never fell as they pushed and pulled, challenging each other for dominance. Paige’s fingers dug into Azzi’s hips as she tried to hold her still, but Azzi countered by shifting forward, her hands sliding up Paige’s arms before pressing into her shoulders for leverage.

Neither wanted to give in, their bodies moving in sync as they played their little game—one teasing, the other taunting, both determined to win. Little sounds slipped from their lips, unintentional reactions to the tension between them, to the way their control over the situation teetered with every movement.

Azzi leaned in, her lips hovering over Paige’s, their heavy breaths mingling. “You sure you’re winning this one, baby?” she taunted, her voice just barely above a whisper.

Paige swallowed, as she smirked. “You’re not.”

Azzi, not liking that, rolled her hips down again, watching as Paige’s head fell back against the seat, her fingers tightening around Azzi’s waist. Paige sucked in a breath through gritted teeth, trying to hold on to her composure, but Azzi caught the way her body twitched under her.

Paige recovered quickly, exhaling sharply as she dragged her hands up Azzi’s back.

She flipped their positions pressing Azzi back against the seat, her hands pinning Azzi’s wrists on either side of her head. Azzi’s eyes widened in surprise before she let out a soft chuckle, biting her lip as she looked up at Paige before pulling her in for a kiss.

Paige groaned against Azzi’s lips, her fingers gripping at the jersey, bunching the fabric in her fists as she deepened the kiss. Azzi hummed into her mouth, pulling Paige closer, her hands sliding up Paige’s back before tangling in her hair. The kiss was messy, all tongue neither of them holding back as they pushed and pulled at each other, fighting for control even now.

Paige nipped at Azzi’s bottom lip, pulling away just enough to murmur, “You look so fucking good in this, baby.” Her voice was thick, her eyes heavy as she tugged at the jersey again.

Azzi smirked against her lips, tilting her head slightly. “Yeah? You like it?” she teased, running her hands down Paige’s back before gripping her waist, and flipping their positions back. Paige barely had time to react before she found herself against the seat again, Azzi now on top, straddling her once smirk again.

Paige's grip tightened instantly, her fingers digging into Azzi’s skin as her head fell back against the seat. “Fuck, I can’t, baby,” she groaned, her voice strained, eyes squeezed shut as she tried to hold on. “I’m close.”

Azzi, still in full control, shook her head. “No,” she murmured. “Not yet.”

Paige let out a desperate sound, her hands gripping harder as her breath came out in uneven pants. “I—I can’t control it, mama,” she admitted, her voice breaking slightly as she fought against the overwhelming feeling.

Azzi hummed in response, bringing Paige’s hands up to place them firmly on her chest under the jersey. “Yes, you can,” she whispered, pressing her forehead against Paige’s, their breaths mingling. Paige whimpered, eyes fluttering open just enough to meet Azzi’s gaze.

Azzi smirked, tilting her head as she kept her rhythm steady, teasing, pushing, and pulling Paige right to the edge but never letting her tip over. “I want you to hold it for me,” she mumbled against Paige’s lips, her fingers sliding into Paige’s hair.

Paige's jaw clenched as she let out a shaky breath, her entire body tense beneath Azzi. Her hands trembled slightly as she squeezed Azzi’s hips, desperately trying to focus, to obey, even though every fiber of her being wanted to let go. “Fuck I can’t,” she groaned, voice hoarse. “You’re killing me, baby.”

Azzi chuckled, pressing a kiss to Paige’s jaw. “No, I’m making you feel good.”

Paige’s grip faltered as she instinctively moved her hands away from Azzi’s waist, gripping the leather seats beside her in a desperate attempt to ground herself. But Azzi wasn’t having it. She grabbed Paige’s hands, guiding them right back to her hips.

Paige let out a shaky breath, her body tensing beneath Azzi’s as she struggled to maintain even a sliver of control. But Azzi knew exactly what she was doing—exactly how to unravel her.

Pressing soft, lingering kisses along Paige’s neck, Azzi hummed against her skin. “Why do you keep moving your hands, baby?” she whispered, her voice low, teasing.

Paige swallowed hard, her fingers twitching against Azzi’s waist. “I—I don’t know,” she mumbled, her voice barely audible.

Azzi smirked, kissing just below Paige’s ear. “Mmm. You don’t know?” she murmured, trailing her lips lower as her fingers traced slow circles against Paige’s wrist. “You always get like this when I take my time.”

Paige let out a frustrated groan, her fingers gripping Azzi’s hips even tighter. “Az..Fuck—Az please,” she breathed, her head falling back.

Azzi chuckled, running her fingers through Paige’s hair before gently tugging. “Did you like my outfit today?” she asked.

Paige let out a shuddering breath, her fingers flexing against Azzi’s waist. “What?”

Azzi kissed along her jaw, her teeth biting against the sensitive skin. “I saw you looking all night,” she continued, her tone light. “You think I wore it just because?”

Paige squeezed her eyes shut, her body reacting before she could even think of a response. Azzi was relentless—and completely in control.

“Tell me,” Azzi whispered, biting lightly at Paige’s ear. “Did you like it baby?”

Paige’s breath hitched, her hands gripping Azzi’s waist harder as she struggled beneath her, the tension in her stomach pulling with every word. “You know I did,” she admitted, her voice nearly breaking.

Azzi hummed in satisfaction, kissing down Paige’s neck again. “Good.”

Paige’s entire body was taut beneath Azzi, every muscle locked as she tried—desperately—to hold on. But Azzi kept dragging out every second.

“I’m close baby,” Azzi whispered, her voice strained, her hips still moving in perfect rhythm.

Paige groaned, her grip on Azzi’s waist bruising as she fought to keep herself together, her breathing ragged. “Baby, please,” she gasped, eyes fluttering shut, her resolve hanging by a thread.

Azzi leaned in, capturing Paige’s lips in a kiss that stole the last of her restraint. It was deep and possessive, sending a sharp, overwhelming heat rushing through Paige’s body.

That was all it took. Paige tensed beneath her, a strangled moan leaving her lips as she completely unraveled, her hands gripping Azzi like she was the only thing keeping her tethered to reality as her body started to shake.

But Azzi didn’t stop.

Even as Paige trembled beneath her, trying to catch her breath, trying to get Azzi to slow down, she kept moving—dragging her lips along Paige’s jaw, whimpering softly in her ear as she chased her own release.

Paige whined, her hands sliding from Azzi’s waist to her thighs in an attempt to stop her movements . Saying desperately, “Az, baby it’s too much. I can’t—”

Paige barely had time to finish her sentence before Azzi’s lips were on hers again, swallowing every whimper and shaky breath. Azzi kissed her deep, desperate, as if she was chasing something only Paige could give her.

Within seconds, Azzi’s body tensed on top of Paige, her grip tightening in Paige’s hair as she gasped into the kiss. Paige felt it—the way Azzi’s body shuddered, the way her fingers curled into her scalp, the way she bit down on Paige’s bottom lip to stifle the sound that threatened to escape.

Paige groaned into the kiss, overwhelmed by how good Azzi felt against her, by the way Azzi clung to her like she never wanted to let go. She held her close, letting her ride it out despite the tension rapidly growing in her stomach again as she pressed soothing kisses against her jaw as Azzi's breathing came in soft, uneven pants.

“Damn, baby,” Paige murmured, her voice rough, her hands still gripping Azzi’s waist like she needed something to ground herself.

Azzi let out a breathy chuckle, her forehead resting against Paige’s as she tried to collect herself. “Told you I wasn’t desperate,” she whispered, a smirk pulling at her lips despite how dazed she looked.

Not being able to take anymore Paige pushed Azzi off of her as she struggled to pull the vibrator off of her. Azzi chuckled as she watched Paige struggle, her chest still rising and falling unevenly. She leaned back against the seat, completely unbothered, while Paige ran a hand down her face, trying to collect herself.

But Paige wasn’t having it. With a huffed breath, she reached for the door handle, muttering, “We’re going upstairs.”

Azzi smirked, tilting her head as she reached for her skirt thrown on the seat. “Yeah?” she teased, raising an eyebrow.

Paige shot her a look, jaw tight, eyes still clouded. “Yeah,” she confirmed. “Now.”

Azzi hummed, pushing the car door open as she stepped out, stretching her arms lazily as if she wasn’t still feeling everything that just happened. As Paige moved to follow, Azzi turned back, biting her lip before murmuring, “I’ll be by the mirror baby.”

Paige turned off the car, taking a deep breath to steady herself before stepping out.

Azzi was already heading inside, her skirt discarded on the floor, leaving her still in nothing but that damn jersey that barely covered anything as she made her way upstairs. She didn’t even look back—just walked with an effortless sway that had Paige gripping the door frame for a second longer than necessary.

Paige smirked, licking her lips as she shut the door behind her. “I’m about to fuck her up,” she muttered to herself, rolling her shoulders back in confidence.

She followed Azzi up the stairs, her cocky smirk only growing as she shut the bedroom door.

[kisssukuna33]

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who always have you over at his house the night before an important match. It helps with the stress he says.

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who always put on a TV show before you two settle into the couch for cuddles. Usually the cuddling session is a mix of him relaxing against you as you ask him questions about the match tomorrow.

"You packed an extra pair of shorts this time right? Remember what happened last time"

"yeah I did"

"Did you iron the clothes?"

"Uraume took care of it"

"That new protein shake your nutritionist recommend, Did you take it?"

"Already did"

"What about the snacks during the game tomorrow? did Uraume-

"oh my god baby relax, it's all taken care of"

He says in somewhat of an annoyed tone as he pulls you even closer to his chest, tightening his grip around you. But deep down he loves it when you are concerned about him like this.

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who insists that having a good time before the match tomorrow isn't a problem to him but you reject the offer firmly because you know how Sukuna gets whenever you two started something.

It always ends up dragging for hours so no, your bf needs his beauty sleep for tomorrow.

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who pouts slightly when you say no to him but decides to settle with the short make out session instead, better than nothing he thinks.

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who teasingly steals few touches from your sensitive areas, clearly trying to rile you up but stops after seeing the glare you gave him.

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who never seems to be the type to get much nervous before matches. Because of his Overconfidence? His never ending Ego? maybe. But his ability to stand strong in situations like this always makes your heart flutter.

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who always makes sure you get the best VIP seat to his match, You always need to be in the front lines where he can see you from clearly when he beat up his opponent back to his ancestors.

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who always find a way to bring you up in the Media press. Sukuna is widely known by the audience for being a down bad "simp" for his girlfriend as well as a complete disaster for his opponents.

"Mr Ryomen, Do you know there's a whole talk in the internet about you being a simp for your girlfriend? What do you have to say to people who spread things like that?"

"Keep spreading the truth I guess. The internet definitely needs it more"

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who hurries back to his changing room and jumps straight into your arms. Despite your constant nagging for him to get patched up first.

"Baby did you saw the jab-cross I threw before he hit the ground?"

"Yeah it was Amazing Ryo!"

"I did good than the last match, didn't I?"

"Yeah you always do"

"Then I deserve way more than that cheap kiss you gave me earlier don't I?"

"Get patched up first you freak, Uraume's waiting"

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who lets you both into his house as he holds your waist with one arm. He let go of your waist as he makes his way for the bathroom while murmuring something about showering first.

As he started to shower you turn on the tv with the intention of seeing the live match you saw today in the digital screen. And it immediately cuts to a interview Sukuna did just right after winning.

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who seems enthusiastic as ever talking to the reporters about the match he did and the opponent he beat. Not long after he adds a little appreciation from his part.

"My manager Uraume helped me with a lot of stuff so I truly appreciate them. Also my girlfriend stayed up beside me every night when I practiced and supported me in everything, this win is hers as much as it is mine."

"if you're watching this I love you baby"

A warm feeling start to take over your chest as you hear his words. The man who's appreciated and idolized by millions saying these things so casually to you, you still can't get your mind around it.

Then the reporter use his luck to ask a risky question one more time.

"it's look like you two have a great relationship together, what do you think about marriage Mr Ryomen?"

To that question Sukuna doesn't respond but instead returns a well knowing little grin as he waves off the interview.

"Tch why did they ruin the moment by asking that, now it looks like he doesn't want to marry me" you said to yourself.

Just as you were about to leave to the kitchen to grab a snack, something shining inside the closet that Sukuna forgot to shut earlier catches your eyes.

Hidden by the cloth piles it was a little jewelry box that had familiar initials on top of it.

It was none other than yours and Sukuna's.

Wait..

No that can't be, Yeah maybe this is the earrings he wanted to give you before.

But much to your surprise the box opened up to reveal a gorgeous wedding ring. A big diamond you sure costed atleast 5 six figures alone sitting on top of it. Inside the ring you and Sukuna's initials were carved into it making it seem even more special to your eyes.

Your heart is jumping from excitement and happiness, everything about your life is starting to get better and better and you can't help but thank Sukuna for it.

You don't want to ruin the surprise he planned for you of course. So you put the box back to it's place and sit on the bed till he's done showering patiently but the stupid smile you had since earlier didn't left your face for once.

"Alright I'm done showering let's slee- what's with you?"

"What's with me? nothing Ryo"

"You're are smiling very creepily woman"

"Ryo that's mean! My smile is not creepy!"

"Yeah whatever come here, freak"

Sukuna says as he drags you closer to his side of the bed while turning off the bedside lamp at the same time. Your bodies intertwine with each other like it was always meant to be. Sukuna's hands wrapping around you as he buries his face into your neck.

"Ryo?"

"hmm"

"I love you"

You can feel a small smile tugging at his lips.

"I love you too princess, more than anything"

Boxing Kuna is my favorite <33

No grammar checks though sorry :/

[thelostgirl21]

I don't know if this is going to be any comfort, but I think most Canadians see the American population as fellow victims in this whole situation.

Besides those of us that have also fallen prey to far right ideologies, there's this sense of awareness that Trump manipulated his way into power and is making decisions that are going against his people's best interests.

A lot of you have more or less been taken hostage by a fascist leader that is furthering his own egomaniac agenda without any empathy whatsoever for the suffering he is inflicting, and it's utterly horrifying!

And what's absolutely heartbreaking is that many of his "followers" are either aware of what's happening, but too scared of repercussions to take a stand and criticise him (and it's hard to blame them for being scared); or they genuinely worship him and believe in him the same way as people will follow and worship cult leaders.

And, in those situations, the only hope you have is basically for the victims of his manipulations to finally wake up and fight back themselves.

Because we can't do it.

We are a population of 40 million vs an American population of 335 million.

We can't just walk in there saying "we've come to liberate you from a fascist President that's threatening the lives and safety of trans children, disabled people, illegal immigrants, threatening to cripple your economy, etc." when a huge chunk of the American people would fight back and die for him!

And Trump was "democratically elected" by the people that he is now abusing. So, despite how disgusted and sick some of us may feel over the ICE raids (for example), we can't really stop what's happening in the USA from happening.

I think a lot of us feel a profound sense of sorrow and powerlessness in this whole situation, rather than a sense of being betrayed by the American people themselves.

And it could have been us. It could still be us. Actually, what's happening to Americans right now might save us from falling into the same trap as you did in our upcoming elections.

Because there's been a very troubling increase in hate crimes targeting sexual orientation (they've increased by 388% between 2016 and 2023, and a fucking 69% between 2022 and 2023 alone!) in Canada, and Pierre Pollièvre (leader of our Conservative party) had been more or less importing a "softer and more politically correct" version of Trump's rhetorrics into Canadian politics as well.

If enough Canadians get pissed at Trump, they might rally behind a leader that is the polar opposite of what he represents, giving someone like Mark Carney (that might take the leadership of the Liberal Party from Trudeau in March) a fighting chance against Pollièvre.

We might end up "owing you", in a very awful and twisted way, because you gave us a reason to try to come together as a country to attempt to find solutions against a common threat.

Yes, I can't deny the friendship dynamic might change a bit... Because, I don't know if people realise this, but we actually did put some measures in place that were meant to keep USA and Canada heavily reliant on each other to avoid such conflicts, and force us to continue to "play nice" with each other.

Ex: Canada produces the crude oil, the USA refineries refine it into a usable product, and then part of it is sold and sent back to us via pipelines that travel under both Canadian and American soil.

That's actually one of the benefits of global trade - the lack of self-sufficiency forcing you to care about your trade partner's own needs and interests as well.

Therefore Trump's willingness to threaten our economy in an effort to forcefully assimilate us as the 51st State is obviously making us go "Yeah, maybe we should try to diversify our trading partnership a bit more, and be a TAD LESS RELIANT on the USA in the future. We should definitely continue to make new friends out there, and expand our market a bit..."

But it's not necessarily a bad thing for both countries (there can be significant advantages on having more trading partners on both sides), nor something that should be taken as personal.

Because, again, it could have been us. The Canadian and American people can still see each other as brothers and sisters in a post-Trump era while understanding that all it takes is an abusive step-father to suddenly take advantage of people's fears and vulnerabilities to threaten the fragile economical balance between our two countries.

I currently support retaliatory tariffs and trying to avoid buying any American product for which we can find a Canadian equivalent in Canada, because well, first, if American consumers can no longer afford to buy Canadian products, because they cost 25% more than the price we're selling it to them, we'll need to buy as much of our own stuff as we can.

And, second, we do need some of the American people to wake up, and realize that the "illegal criminal immigrants" and the "child grooming trans and LGBTQ+ people" won't be Trump's only victims during his presidency!

As long as a problem doesn't personally affect or threaten them, some people have a tendency to sit back, stay silent, and close their eyes on the horrors happening around them.

But Trump promised the American people that the price of groceries and the general cost of living would go down, that it would be an easy fix, and that the tariffs imposed on international imports would not increase the price of the products they are paying.

He lied. About this, and about so much more!

I believe that the Canadian people are still very much ready and willing to support the American people and fight by their side, though.

But right now, you are fighting against your own selves, and lashing out while being unable to tell friends from foes.

We won't let ourselves be attacked without putting up some solid boundaries and opposing those measures from President Trump. But the idea that, because of this, American people will be economically suffering and struggling more - including all of those that did not vote for him and attempted to sound the alarm - is utterly heartbreaking for us.

We're not even going "Well, if President Trump has decided to hit our economy and make the Canadian people suffer, we'll make sure the American people will be suffering alongside us, too!"

We do not wish Americans any harm. We've been thrown into a senseless situation, are trying to limit the impact of the blows we are receiving, and standing up to a powerful bully as best we can!

While also vaguely hoping that those of you getting hit with us will realize that both the Canadian and American people are sharing a common enemy right now, and he's the fucking President of your own country!

The vibe I get from most Canadians is that we still do love you, but fuck do we hate HIM!

You did elect him, but he manipulated his way into power and took advantage of your fears and vulnerabilities. And a lot of us are very much aware of that.

To be clear I don't want a trade war with Mexico (or even China)

but Trump breaking our relationship with Canada, Canada, our ever friendly, dependable, helpful brothers to the north, is particularly hurtful. It feels like an abusive step-father banning you from a favorite cousin's house because they want to isolate you to keep beating you. It's painful and heart breaking and your cousin keeps asking you to explain and you can't.

sorry Canada, I didn't vote for him, I campaigned against him hard, but a bunch of idiots voted to blow up everything and hurt everyone so do what you have to do, maybe if you inflict maximum pain some people will wake up.

and to Americans reading this, I can't over stress we have FOREVER damaged our relationship with our neighbor, biggest trading partner, military and strategic ally, we fought WWII with them guys, and they are NEVER gonna look at us the same way again. We might repair the relationship in future but it'll never be as full a friendship as it was last month.

[puckinghischier]

Jealous Nico

i struggle with this one bc can he get jealous? yes, extremely so. does he often? i wanna say no.

i feel like he’s just so trusting and obsessed with you that the thought doesn’t even cross his mind half the time, because you never pay people any mind. he knows he holds your attention, so why would he ever get jealous?

but sometimes…just sometimes, when you’ve had one too many drinks and your attention starts flitting around the room, looking for anyone who will entertain you to have a conversation with? he wants to scream “i’m right here!!!” at you. but he doesn’t want to be that guy, so he just lets you wander and mingle. never too far, though.

and as much as we wants to, the feeling that settles in his stomach when he sees you laughing with some finance bro over at the bar when you’re getting a refill is something he can’t really ignore.

maybe it’s the way you’re giving him so much excitement, clearly passionate about whatever topic is pouring from your lips. or maybe it’s the way this douche is looking at you, like you’re the brightest light in the room and he’s a moth that can’t escape your glow. whatever it is, it has him walking away from his conversation mid sentence, warm eyes turned dark in dislike of what he was witnessing.

as he makes his way through the crowd towards you, he realizes he can’t even be mad at you, because you’re just being the social butterfly he knows you are. all you want to do is converse and enjoy all the liveliness in the building, you’re not purposefully ignoring him. you were actually trying to talk to him a few minutes ago, but he was trying to listen to what jesper was saying before he got lost in whatever topic you deemed so important. so really, he thinks to himself, this is his fault, and he shouldn’t even be jealous in the first place.

but when you start jumping up and down slightly, clearly excited with whatever response you were just given, and douchebag’s eyes go straight to your chest instead of your ear to ear grin and bright eyes, he realizes yeah…maybe he can be jealous and a little bit of an asshole right now.

“müsli? did you ever get your drink, sweet girl?” he tries the sweet approach, not wanting to be overly gruff in front of you.

his chest puffs out at the way all of your attention is focused on him the second you hear his voice, forgetting all about the stranger in front of you.

“nico! hi! i feel like i haven’t seen you in….in….like…thirty minutes ago!” your words make no sense, a small hiccup making you giggle out an “excuse me” as you turn towards him.

he smiles down at you, your glossy eyes focused on his own, just how it should be.

“oh! frank, this is nico!” you turn back around to the stranger, his gaze raking down your figure, making nico see red all over again. you lean in closer to the man, cupping your hands around your mouth to try and whisper, but failing miserably. “he’s my boyfriend!” you giggle out, acting like a school girl talking about her crush.

turning back to nico, you miss the hard gaze he was throwing your new friend. “nico, frank and i were just talking about how fun it would be if there was a slip’n’slide in here!”

nico’s demeanor involuntarily softens a bit at your enthusiasm over the random topic, amused at how excited you are over the thought of a slip’n’slide in the middle of winter in new jersey.

but when he looks back up at your new friend frank, he can practically see the thoughts running through his head, and why he’s also be enthusiastic about the idea. if it wasn’t him ogling your tits earlier, it was the way he was checking your ass out while nico is standing right there.

“oh yeah?” nico speaks to you but keeps his attention on the man too lost looking at your ass to realize he’s being summoned into the conversation.

“yeah! tell him, frank! tell him what you said about making sure i’d be able to take as many turns as i wanted! that no one else would be allowed on it, because it would be my own special slip’n’slide!”

it’s endearing, really, the ideas you get in that smart head of yours when you’ve been slamming vodka crans all night. nico always loves to find out what theories and plans you come up with everytime you two have nights out. he’s thought about writing them down a time or two, because you never believe him when he tells you about the the next day, always claiming you “would literally never say that,” because you’re “a college educated woman, thank you very much.”

but this one? the one that has frank all but salivating at the thought of seeing you repeatedly have a wet t-shirt contest of one on a theoretical slip’n’slide? this one is just pissing him off.

“hmm?” frank’s attention is finally snapped away from your body and back to the conversation at hand.

“she was just saying how you told her how wonderful her own, special slip’n’slide would be, considering you wouldn’t let anyone else on it,” nico answers, letting his voice lower.

“oh yeah, dude. wouldn’t that be the hottest thing ever?” frank, so stupidly, decided to respond.

nico’s dry chuckle is the only response frank got. and either frank was smarter than nico gave him credit for, or he looks a lot more menacing than he thought, because the sound wiped the smug, disgusting smile right off of his face.

“frank…buddy….just walk away, yeah?” nico suggests, not used to being the scary boyfriend type but hoping it does the trick.

and much to his surprise, it works, frank nodding and walking the other direction, but not before you call out a sweet “bye, frank! it was nice to meet you!”

grabbing your hand, nico leans down to suggest it’s time for the two of you to leave, because he’s “tired of sharing you with everyone tonight, schatz. need my daily dose of hiding you away so i can get all of your attention,” while nipping playfully at your ear.

and, get all of your attention he does, considering you don’t stop talking to him from the time he gets you in the car to drive you home to the time he gets you settled in bed, behind closed doors, soaking up every second of not having to share your sweet voice. he drank it in like you were his own personal oasis in a dry and vast desert, just how he liked it.

[primofate]

Death and Regrets - Alhaitham

Notes: This has been written for quite a while. It will be part of my next Genshin book "Primofate's Angst Anthology Volume 1" I was planning on keeping it exclusive to the book, but I hadn't posted in such a long while that I felt that I had to give you guys something. Grateful to all of you who are still here and please look forward to the release of my next book! I'm planning for it to be out late 2025 on Amazon!

Word Count: 2316 (yes, the death and regrets in my next book are quite long)

Others in the series: (Scaramouche and Kaeya Version) (Thoma, Xiao, Diluc and Zhongli)  (Itto, Gorou, Albedo)

Death, Regrets and Second Chances [An Alternate Ending to Death and Regrets]: (Kazuha, Childe, Scaramouche, Kaeya)

Warnings: not proofread, YOU DIE, no comfort

Characters: gn! reader x Alhaitham

It was not that your relationship with the Scribe was a secret, it was simply because the two of you were private people. There’s no reason to go around telling everyone that the two of you were dating, in fact, it would be rather unprofessional to do that, seeing as both of you held high positions in the Akademiya.

Even before that, however, when you were merely students, there were a few countable times in which Alhaitham and you crossed paths.

“What’s a Vahumana student doing reading a book about ancient runes?” He was a handsome, young man. As he was today. But he was less guarded, less critical of others in his younger years. You had no idea whatsoever that this encounter with him would lead to a blossoming romantic endeavour.

You stared up at him, rather enchanted by his eyes, book held in your hands. You took one look at his uniform and immediately knew he was Haravatat. “…We’re going on an expedition into the Hadramaveth Ruins soon…” you explain, just waiting for him to leave.

He stands in front of you for a good 5 seconds before sighing and exclaiming “…I suppose I can let you have the book for a few more days,” he starts to walk off, adding a brief “Let me know if you’re done with it,” signalling to you that he probably wanted to borrow the book.

It was weeks later that you handed the book over to him, your left arm bandaged up and in a sling. He glanced at the book, then at your arm. “…What happened to you?” it was merely an offhanded question. He was just curious what kind of accident you got into.

You didn’t seem the reckless type.

“Just some trouble in the ruins,” you shrug.

You thought that leaving the book with him was the last you would see of Alhaitham. But, days later, struggling with a broken arm and in a cliché scenario of being unable to reach a book on the highest shelf, it was him who leans forward and retrieves it for you easily.

“…Alhaitham,” he says it with a bit of uncertainty. As if not knowing if he was making the right decision.

“Huh?” You instinctively let out.

“My name. It’s Alhaitham,” You make a sound of understanding, and give him your own.

What happened after that was a whirlwind of intense and exhilarating experiences. Somehow he had made it part of his routine to lend you a hand in the library. Those little butterflies in your stomach start to flutter, wondering why he made such effort for you, when you secretly knew the answer yourself.

Those same butterflies start to fly, flitting about in twists and turns in your stomach when you find yourself sitting side by side with him, studying separate subjects, yet together in each other’s presence.

Until, even when the sun set, the butterflies are awake and alive within you, seemingly escaping your gut and now fluttering with a rhythmic thump-thump-thump in your chest while the two of you meet in the secret corners of the dormitories, head to shoulder, whispering and talking about anything and everything you could think of.

You excelled in your school, as did he, and before long, the two of you were given important roles within the Akademiya. Him as the Scribe, and you, as Vahumana’s Assistant Sage.

“Y/N?” there was a knock on your study door, voice as familiar to you as your own.

“Come in,” you stand as the door pushes open. Alhaitham slips in and just as easily closes the door with his foot, striding over to meet you at the middle of the room.

Knowing that there was no one there except the two of you, both of you walk the full length, up until he opens one arm, and up until you walk into his warmth. His arm wraps you tight for a few seconds, his eyes closing, nose diving into your hair for a quick kiss, before releasing you completely and stepping away from each other.

Just a quick greeting.

Always a quick greeting, in case someone decides to come in.

“Your message…” Alhaitham trails off, he had been out on some sort of task for a few days and the only way to reach him had been through a messenger. The message you sent was clear. Grand Sage Azar was planning something devious, and he had to be stopped. “…are you sure?”

“…At the very least, Azar is suspicious,” you recount how it seems like the Grand Sage had been scheming something. That there was an important project the sages had been working on. That Cyno had suddenly quit his post as General Mahamatra. “…They’re tampering with the Akasha System, and I haven’t seen Naphis in weeks,” you end, face carrying a grim expression.

Alhaitham, as always, remained calm and collected. You had long known that he had been a person of logic. That he was smarter than the average person, his mind always seemed to be working faster than others’ did.

“…Even then, there’s nothing we can do at the moment, without any evidence,” he closes his eyes when he says this, possibly going through all the information that you’ve given him.

“Alhaitham,” you press, words suddenly taking a more assertive edge. “It’s not natural for Naphis to disappear like this. Furthermore, all the other sages assure me that he’s merely busy working on the project.” And it’s here that he detects a hint of your pleading tone. “but he opposed of the project, Alhaitham. They’re hiding something,”

He holds back a sigh, you see it in the way his shoulders tense and his face attempts to remain neutral. “If we don’t have anything against them, then there’s nothing we can do,” he repeats and you almost feel like you’re talking to a wall, but he continues. “I’ll scout around, but there are other things I have to do. We can’t just go by your intuition alone,”

“You’re saying I’m making this all up?”

“That’s not what I said, and you know it. You’re letting your frustration get the better of you, Y/N,”

You bite your lip. He’s right. As he always is. Patience is a virtue, that was always what he said. If he wanted to do something, it had to be mapped out and planned perfectly. It wasn’t his style to go rushing into something, including accusations of people.

“We’ll talk about this a bit more tomorrow. Just cool off, for now,” he leaves with only a nod, knowing that the two of you just needed some time to think and gather your thoughts carefully, before hatching a plan. Together, the two of you could easily do it, Alhaitham had always valued your opinions and intelligence.

Early morning the next day the same messenger you had sent to Alhaitham finds his way to your study. Karman, his name was.

“Assistant Sage Y/N,” he respectfully hands you a letter, bows his head and steps away.

The letter is addressed to you, from Alhaitham.

I was on a separate task to the Hadramaveth Ruins and found traces of the sages “project”. I did return to the Akademiya but hadn’t the time to seek you out before leaving for another assignment. I left my letter to Karman. I’ll make quick of my task, and meet you at the Ruins shortly after daybreak.

Karman only watches as you drop the letter on your desk, quickly packing essentials to travel to the ruins.

Pity. He thought to himself. Such a young talent going to waste.

“You’re free to go,” you hurriedly dismiss him and he nods, taking a last glance at the fabricated letter on your table.

Alhaitham wakes far too late to stop the tragedy from happening. When he slips into your study, your door being slightly agape was his first clue that something was amiss. The second was the letter on your table.

‘I didn’t write this,’ was his instant reaction.

‘Y/N’s in trouble,’ was his second,gut-wrenching realization.

He sprinted without a second thought towards the ruins. His legs, as practiced and trained as they were from doing assignment after assignment, burned with a speed that he had never attempted to reach before. He hears his laboured breathing in his ears, hears his heart going faster than he had ever felt it go.

All the while he berated himself. How could he not have seen this coming? Why had he not taken extra precautions?

The desert is brutal, even to him. It was harder to press on, his feet stamping on soft sand, making it difficult to propel forward. He sees the ruins in the far horizon, the doors shut tight.

I can make it! He thinks to himself, pushing his strength to the last limits. You must have been inside,all he had to do was—

BANG!

In a sudden, quick explosion of sand the entrance to the ruins erupt in a lick of flames. And then, one after another bombs set off. The ground shook at the intensity, Alhaitham swayed, tipped over, and fell forward only to push himself up and keep going, his eyes determinedly glued to the ruin entrance despite the sand kicking up everywhere.

I’ll make it. I’m coming.

Explosions were still going off, ringing in his ears. His worst nightmare descended upon him when the ruin doors burst into thousands of pieces, in smithereens and mixing with the sand. The rest of the structure stumbled and caved in, it was sinking so fast into the sand.

Alhaitham pressed on.

There’s no way.

He scrambled forward as the pillars and rocks crumble and sink. For a moment he thinks he hears someone calling his name, but all he can think about is your face.

Your face. In every corner of his life. Now sinking into the sand, trapped for eternity, never to be seen again.

Y/N…!

“Alhaitham!” He’s suddenly jerked backwards, equally strong arms are holding him back, preventing him from going any further into the disaster.

“Y/N!” Alhaitham finally bellows, the sound of his voice echoing through the desert. He struggles against the hold, pulling and heaving himself forward. When he realized that the person holding on to him was just as stubborn as he was, he swerved around with a glare. “I have to go! What’re you doi—” he stopped short, and saw that it was Cyno.

Cyno who had a pained look in his eyes. “It’s too late,” he said as a matter of factly.

Alhaitham stilled, he could hear the structure still crumbling, yet to him it sounded like the whole world falling. He jerked away from Cyno’s grasp, turning towards the crumbling structure, and finally fell to his knees.

His hands grasp on sand, palm stinging at how hard he was gripping on to them. “—Can’t be,” he murmurs something into the wind, only bits of it audible. His frame crumples forward, arms keeping him from falling face first into the sand. “It can’t be…It can’t. can’t. can’t. CAN’T be!” His fist pounds into the sand with each angry word, eyes squeezing shut and wracking his brain for a solution. This can’t be it. Y/N was smarter than that, you might’ve found a way to avoid it.

To Cyno, who had never seen Alhaitham unravel in such a way, who had no idea that the man could even be in such a state, only silently watched. Unaware of what he could do for him. “Alhaitham…”

The Scribe suddenly stood, as if he hadn’t been mourning just a few seconds ago. By now the storm had settled, and where the ruin doors once stood was now just a mound of sand, as if it had never been there before. “Y/N could still be around,”

Cyno could only see his back, now tall and proud. The General Mahamatra watched as Alhaitham picked his arm up, laid it over what would be his face and dragged it, slowly, from left to right. Cyno wasn’t sure if it had been sweat or tears, but the taller man stood there for a moment, and with a hint of a tremble, said “I have to bring Y/N back…”

That’s how Cyno knew, that Alhaitham was conscious of the world, was conscious of the tragedy that had just happened.

But that didn’t stop him from coming back to the ruins every single day, holding out on whatever hope he had, the pain of “We’ll talk about this a bit more tomorrow. Just cool off, for now,” repeating over and over and over again in his head, keeping him awake at night.

How could that have been his last words to you?

How could he have passed on the chance to wrap you in his arms, like all those times the two of you shared in your younger years, and passed on the chance to tell you how much he adored, missed and loved you instead?

The worst part of it all was the fact that he had nothing left. Not even a last look of your face, not even a tombstone to visit. Not even a safe space for you to rest.

All of a sudden it didn’t matter how much he had succeeded in life up until this point. He had failed you so miserably.

What had he been doing for the past few years?

What was it all for?

When all was said and done, when the sun set and the tasks were completed, he came home to you.

And now, there was no home to be found. For a while, he would come home and collapse on the cold, hard, floor. It was so, so quiet and all around the four walls he saw your face and your smile, haunting and piercing his soul.

There was no home here.

Only sadness, and solitude.

I’ve published The Ruthless Prince (Reader x Scaramouche) on paperback. Click here.

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[starlightshadowsworld]

I need more acknowledgment about how the Port Mafia thinks the Agency is fucking insane.

The Agency are like 8 people who have banded together to protect the city and fuck up anyone who gets in there way.

They treat being raided like it’s paperwork. A former teacher kicks their arses and is re-adjusting the budget while the teenage farm boy is happily throwing them out a window.

They are not bound by the law though they’ve worked with law enforcement. They are bound by their own morality and for some thats not even a hard line to cross.

Junichiro with a knife will always be the most terrifying person in a room. Kenji has the entire city eating out of his hand.

Yosano could make the most hardened torturer look like a child without even trying.

Kunikida is bound by his morals but even then he’s shown how far he’ll go for them. Hell every time he’s blown himself up has been witnessed by Chuuya.

Atsushi’s first boat fight with Akutugawa sent the latter into a coma people didn’t think he’d ever awaken from.

Every single member of the Agency is untouchable in some way. They all get up from what should’ve killed them.

They dust themselves off and smirk as if to say “is that all you’ve got?”

They are the living embodiment of fuck it we ball.

The Port Mafia are bound by their own rules. They have systems and are bound to the organisation itself. If one falls it they will move on despite that.

The Agency follow Fukuzawa. They are bound by loyalty and personal bonds. They will always try to do things the right way but they aren’t above doing what needs to be done.

Especially when it concerns one of their own.

That’s not to say the Port Mafia don’t have such bonds but the most important thing to them is the organisation and the city.

While for the Agency it will always be each other and the city because that’s what the organisation was built upon.

The Port Mafia were surprised when it seemed the entire Agency came to protect the President in the Cannibalism arc.

But they shouldn’t have been.

They are terrifying because they are few and yet they stand among even the darkest of organisations as equals.

Because they know darkness and yet they shine in the light.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

To go with the latest Fred fic you wrote - them finding out they’re having triplets?

A/n: Fred deserved this life 👏

Fred Weasley had never known a love so consuming until he became a father. Hell he never thought he would even get a chance of this life after the Battle of Hogwarts.

But.

Standing over the cribs, watching his three tiny miracles sleep soundly, he still couldn’t believe it.

Three.

Three beautiful, perfect, red-haired babies.

His triplets.

His and your triplets.

Fred exhaled softly, his chest tightening with overwhelming love and awe. Their little faces were peaceful, their tiny hands occasionally twitching in sleep, their chests rising and falling in the most delicate rhythm.

As he reached down, gently brushing his knuckle over one of their soft little cheeks, a flood of memories came rushing back.

The day they found out had been—well—chaotic.

Fred had walked into St. Mungo’s with you, excited but nervous, absolutely ready to hear about his future child. His arm wrapped protectively around your waist. He watched as you sat down on the examination chair, watched as she applied jelly to your belly.

One child.

That’s what he’d been expecting. One. Singular. A baby.

Then, the Healer had smiled far too brightly as they examined the scan.

“Congratulations, you two! You’re having—”

A Pause.

Fred had felt his stomach drop at the pause. Why was there a pause? His smile faltering on his lips as he squeezed your hand.

The Healer had turned to you both, beaming.

“Triplets!”

Then Silence.

Fred’s brain short-circuited. A strangled sound escaping his lips.

You, who had been clutching his hand, froze completely.

Then....

“Sorry—what?” Fred had asked, blinking rapidly.

“Triplets!” the Healer repeated cheerfully, pointing at the image. “See? Three little heartbeats, all strong and healthy!” Her fingers pointing to each little blob on the screen.

Fred had made another strangled noise, his grip tightening on your hand. He could feel his knees almost buckle out from under him.

You, on the other hand, had just stared at the screen, your eyes comically wide.

“Fred,” you had whispered, your voice shockingly calm.

“Yes, love?”

“We are having three babies.”

Fred had nodded dumbly a little "hmmh" leaving his lips.

You had continued staring.

Then, suddenly, had burst into tears.

Fred had panicked instantly.

“Oh, bloody hell! love—are you okay?”

You had just nodded between sobs, gripping his hand so tightly his fingers had turned white.

“There’s three of them, Fred!” You had wailed, shaking slightly.

Fred had absolutely no idea if you were crying because you were happy, overwhelmed, or just spiraling into hormonal shock.

So naturally, he had done what any loving, supportive husband would do.

He had fainted.

Right there.

In the bloody Healer’s office.

Fred smirked to himself, watching the babies twitch in their sleep.

When he had woken up, flat on the Healer’s floor, you had been hovering over him, still crying but also laughing hysterically.

“You—you fainted?” she had choked out between sniffles.

Fred had blinked up at you, still woozy. “You cried first!”

You had snorted, wiping your eyes. “I was emotional!”

Fred had groaned, covering his face. “We are so doomed.”

And yet—here they were.

Surviving.

Thriving.

And most important of all.

Raising their three little miracles together.

Fred smiled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the forehead of his daughter, then his two sons.

He turned, glancing at you, who was curled up on the nearby chair, dozing lightly.

His heart swelled.

Reaching over, he brushed a stray curl from your face, his thumb tracing your cheek lovingly.

Then, looking back at their sleeping babies, he whispered, so softly it was barely audible—

“Best surprise of my life.”

[angstywaifu]

Black Dahlia - 32. Reunification Day

Summary: Reunification Day. A day of celebration for most of Navarre. But not for everyone. Sometimes it's best not to judge a book by its cover.

Garrick Tavis x OC (Dahlia Aetos)

Black Dahlia Masterlist | Masterlist | Support Me

Dahlia

Another year, another Reunification Day. A day I never enjoyed celebrating even though I should. It signified the end of the Rebellion. And yet it never sat right with me. Something always feeling off about what had happened. But maybe that was because I never trusted my father. A father who would definitely have my head if I didn’t turn up. I adjust the sash, knowing if my uniform is less than perfect I would get a talking to. Like it would matter. I was bound to get a talking to tonight regardless of what I did or how I looked.

I give myself one more glance in the mirror before pushing open my door and locking it behind me. Dain would be here any moment and I’d rather not give him the opportunity to come into my room. As I step back into the corridor I collide with someone walking behind me, both of us stumbling at the impact.

”Sorry I-” My words die in my mouth as I turn and see Garrick standing behind me.

For a brief moment he looks sad, but as his eyes travel down my body I watch them harden as he takes in my uniform. His jaw ticking with irritation.

”You ready to-” Bodhi joins us in the hallway, stopping as he notes the stare down Garrick and I are locked in.

”Of course you would be celebrating today.” He mutters to me with a shake of his head, any hint of sadness I’d seen gone.

This was the first time I’d been close to Garrick since that night. Only seeing him at a distance around the Quadrant or in Battle Brief. No longer turning up after hours at the gym like he use to, or sitting with us at meals when he could get away with not sitting with leadership. And now being this close again, I was suddenly reminded of the sting of betrayal I had felt that night. And I hated how my body responded to him. Hated how my heart rate picked up as I look into his hazel eyes. Hated how my body relaxed as his familiar smell of leather, smoke, mixed with the woodsy spice of cedar and sandalwood.

”Not that I owe you any explanation, but if I had the choice I wouldn’t be going. They might celebrate, but I do not. I unfortunately have appearances to up hold.” I hiss at him, Bodhi looking between us as if unsure he should stop what was going on.

Garrick scoffs at my words, shaking his head again at me. “And here I thought you didn’t give a shit about appearances and what people thought of you.” He snarls at me.

I inwardly flinch at his words. He was right. But there was another meaning to today. One they didn’t know about and one I wouldn’t indulge in. “You’re right, I don’t. So I don’t care what you think about me right now.”

An awkward silence falls over us, Bodhi still looking torn if he should step in or let this play out. I note both of them aren’t dressed in dress uniform, both of them dressed in flight leathers instead. I don’t blame them. If I could be out flying I would join them.

”Dahlia.” Dain calls from a few doors down. Least he knew to keep his distance.

I turn and walk towards him, hearing the scoff from Garrick loud and clear as if he was standing next to me. It shouldn’t bother me, but it does way more than it should. I hear Bodhi talking to him behind me, but I block out whatever they say, not needing it to play on my mind. Not today.

”What did they want?” Dain asks as he falls into step next to me.

”Nothing important.” I tell him bluntly as we join the crowd heading to the celebrations.

Garrick

“What the hell was that?” Bodhi barks at me, shoving me in the shoulder.

I shove his hand away, turning my back on the crowd of cadets heading towards the celebration of our downfall.

”None of you damn business.” I grumble at him as we head towards the door at the other end of the first year dormitories.

”Like hell it is. I’ve watched you pinning over her for the better half of this year. I was literally pleading your case to her when you stumbled through around the corner with your tongue down some random girls throat.” He nearly yells at me.

I turn on my heel, stopping in my tracks as Bodhi walks into me, stumbling back a few steps from the impact. “I am very aware of the fact I fucked up. I’m very fucking aware that I threw any chance I had with her down the drain because I got drunk and then thought I’d never have a chance with her. And then I realise I did when I saw how broken she looked because of me. I don’t need you reminding me!”

”So what are you going to do about it?” Xaden states from behind me. I look over my shoulder to see him leaning against the archway giving me a pointed stare, though I note it’s lacking it’s usual edge. He’d been through a lot recently and today was just icing on the cake for the mood he’d been in.

I shake my head, “It doesn’t matter. Nothing I do will change what she thinks of me now.” I mutter before turning and pushing past Xaden towards the flight field.

Every time I looked at her it was a damn reminder of the stupid decision I had made that night. I had convinced myself that it didn’t matter what I’d done. That I’d actually done what she’d wanted from me to even give me a chance. Unaware that Bodhi had actually pleaded my case to her. Had actually convinced her the rumours that had spread in the Quadrant were actually true. But as I’d met her eyes that night I knew I had messed up. That I’d fucked up any chance I’d had with the girl I’d told myself time and time again I didn’t want, didn’t need. But I did. I wanted her more than anything despite everything telling me I didn’t. She was an Aetos. A daughter of our enemy. The daughter of someone who stood by and watched it all happen. And yet time and time again throughout this year she had proved that she was not. Time and time again she had proven me wrong, met me step for step and had schooled me multiple times. And each time she did she wormed herself in more and more without even knowing what she was doing.

”So what are you going to do about it?” Chradh states in my head, no teasing tone that usually comes with anything to do with her as I step into the flight field.

I look up at him from the entry to the flight field. “Like I said to Xaden there’s nothing I can do. You saw my memories. You saw how she looked at me. There’s nothing I can do to fix that.”

”I honestly didn’t think you’d give up this easily.” He challenges, narrowing his golden eyes on me.

”Then what do you think I should do?” I snap at him.

”Go show her you actually care. Open up to her and let her in.” He drawls as if now bored with the situation. “Or don’t. But don’t you dare mope around if you choose to do nothing.”

I turn around, pushing past Xaden and Bodhi who look confused at my sudden change in direction.

”Where the hell are you going?” Bodhi calls out to me.

I turn to look at them, “I’m going to prove her wrong.”

@imtoanonymousforyou @simplyme-fornow @omalmal @lalaluch @wolfbc97 @leptitlu @fullmoon-94 @the-fandom-ness @fan-of-many-bands @awkardnerd @heeseungthel0ml @acourtofsmutandstarlight @fairchild06 @freyagallileaevans @pit-and-the-pen @hannraumari @elliot-rain @thestarseternaal @stupid-and-contagious01 @hyperfixation-train-station @lxnvmvrzx @thebreadisthetruevillian @red0202 @fangirling-galore @craftytrashprincess @taliyahvermillion @xadenswhore

[antifainternational]

This month, we're launching the Anti-Fascist Action Of The Month Challenge, where we call on you to take an anti-fascist action! February's challenge: Show Them Where You Stand! Wear an anti-fascist pin, patch, shirt, or hat. Put up an anti-fascist poster or sign. Fly an anti-fascist flag. Do something to show people that you oppose fascism and stand with the people targeted by fascists.

This action may seem small and insignificant, but it does three important things:

It tells fascists and far-right goons that there is opposition in the area, which may be enough to make them think twice about taking action in your community.

It also lets the people in your community who are targets of fascist abuse and violence that they have allies and supporters nearby who will back them up if they need help.

It encourages other people who feel the same way you do to be open, public, and vocal about their opposition to bigotry and fascism.

But Is It Safe? We don’t know you or where you live, so we’re going to trust you to do what you feel comfortable with here. That said, we asked the member of our own collective who is most frequently out around town wearing antifa shirts or hoodies about his experience. Here’s what he said: ”I’m a uhhh how shall I put this? A larger and more substantial looking individual. I’m also white cis/het. It’s not uncommon for people to mistake me for a cop! So it’s possible that my experience wearing antifa gear has been different because people are less likely to try to mess with me. That said, after wearing antifa shirts, hoodies, pins and the like everywhere, I have to say that the number of people/strangers who’ve reacted very positively outnumbers the negative reactions I’ve seen by 10 to 1! I can only think about two or three times I’ve had a negative reaction, and those times it amounted to nothing more than staring at me disapprovingly.”

OK, So Where Do I Get Antifascist Stuff?

You could make your own stuff! If you’re looking for ideas, check out our photo archive for some inspiration!

If you’re less crafty, you might want to buy some antifascist stuff to display. Best place to get stuff is from a group doing antifascist work and selling stuff to fund their work. You’ll find a list of some of those groups here. Our collective have been selling anti-fascist shirts and hoodies and donating the proceeds directly to specific antifascist groups and causes for a few years now - you’ll find our online shop here. The next best place to get stuff is from businesses run by antifascists and/or support antifascist groups to one extent or another. We have some examples of places worth checking out here. The one kind of place we would not recommend buying antifa gear from is for-profit operations that aren’t contributing back to the movement. These compete directly with anti-fascist groups trying to fundraise but pocket all the money they collect. If you’re unsure where the money is going, ask the place you’re considering buying from and then verify with the group(s) they say they donate proceeds to (if they say that they do).

Send Us Photos!

We’d love to see how you took on this month’s antifa action - if you feel safe doing so, please feel free to send us some photos (we don’t need to see your lovely face or other identifying features if you’re shy/security conscious)! Let us know if it’s OK for us to share the photos or if you want us to keep ‘em to ourselves.

What If I Don’t Like This Antifa Action Of The Month? No problem - feel free to skip ahead and choose one of the other 29 actions we came up with! Or go with one of the 40 actions from 40 Ways To Fight Fascists. Or go completely off-book and come up with your own action!

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Petard, Part III

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/02/01/miskatonic-networks/#landlord-telco-industrial-complex

Last week, Trump's FCC chair Brendan Carr reversed a rule that banned your landlord from taking kickbacks in exchange for forcing you to use whatever ISP was willing to pay the biggest bribe for the right to screw you over:

https://arstechnica.com/tech-policy/2025/01/fcc-chair-nixes-plan-to-boost-broadband-competition-in-apartment-buildings/

Corporate fascists and their captured regulators are, of course, that most despicable of creatures: they are plagiarists. Like so many of our tech overlords, they have mistaken dystopian sf as a suggestion, rather than as a warning. I take this personally, because I actually wrote this as an sf story in 2013, and it was published in 2014 in MIT Tech Review's Twelve Tomorrows, edited by Bruce Sterling and published in 2014:

https://mitpress.mit.edu/9780262535595/twelve-tomorrows-2014/

I adapted it for my podcast, in four installments:

https://archive.org/details/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_278

https://archive.org/details/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_292

https://archive.org/details/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_293

https://archive.org/details/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_294_-_Petard_04

And, given the new currency of this old story, I thought it was only fitting that I serialize it here, on my blog, also in four parts.

Here's part one:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/30/landlord-telco-industrial-complex/#part-one

Here's part two:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/31/the-blood-speech/#part-two

And now, onto part three:

One of the early Ftp code contributors was now CTO for an ISP, and they'd gotten their start as a dorm co-op at Brown that had metastasized across New England. Sanjay had been pretty important to the early days of Ftp, helping us get the virtualization right so that it could run on pretty much any cloud without a lot of jiggery and/or pokery. Within a day of emailing Sanjay, I was having coffee with the vice-president of business development for Miskatonic Networks, who was also Sanjay's boyfriend's girlfriend, because apparently ISPs in New England are hotbeds of Lovecraft-fandom polyamory. Her name was Kadijah and she had a southie accent so thick it was like an amateur theater production of Good Will Hunting.

"The Termite Mound?" She laughed. "Shit yeah, I know that place. It's still standing? I went to some super sketchy parties there when I was a kid, I mean sooooper sketchy, like sketch-a-roony. I can't believe no one's torched the place yet."

"Not yet," I said. "And seeing as all my stuff's there right now, I'm hoping that no one does for the time being."

"Yeah, I can see that." I could not get over her accent. It was the most Bostonian thing I'd encountered since I got off the train. "OK, so you want to know what we'd charge to provide service to someone at the Termite Mound?"

"Uh, no. I want to know what you'd charge per person if we could get you the whole Mound — every unit in the residence. All 250 of them."

"Oh." She paused a second. "This is an Ftp thing, right?"

"Yeah," I said. "That's how I know Sanjay. I, uh, I started Ftp." I don't like to brag, but sometimes it makes sense in the context of the conversation, right?

"That was you? Wicked! So you're seriously gonna get the whole dorm to sign up with us?"

"I will if you can get me a price that I can sell to them," I said.

"Oh," she said. Then "Oh! Right. Hmm. Leave it with me. You say you can get them all signed up?"

"I think so. If the price is right. And I think that if the Termite Mound goes with you that there'll be other dorms that'll follow. Maybe a lab or two," I said. I was talking out of my ass at this point, but seriously, net-censorship in the labs at MIT? It was disgusting. It could not stand.

"Damn," she said. "Sounds like you're majoring in Ftp. Don't you have classes or something?"

"No," I said. "This is basically exactly what I figured college would be like. A cross between summer camp and an Stanford obedience experiment. If all I wanted to do was cram a bunch of knowledge into my head, I could have stayed home and mooced it. I came here because I wanted to level up and fight something tough and even dangerous. I want to spend four years getting into the right kind of trouble. Going to classes too, but seriously, classes? Whatever. Everyone knows the good conversations happen in the hallway between the formal presentations. Classes are just an excuse to have hallways."

She looked skeptical and ate banana bread.

"It's your deal," she said.

I could hear the but hanging in the air between us. She went and got more coffees and brought them back along with toasted banana bread dripping with butter for me. She wouldn't let me pay, and told me it was on Miskatonic. We were a potential big account. She didn't want to say "But" because she might offend me. I wanted to hear the "but."

"But?"

"But what?"

"It's my deal but…?"

"But, well, you know, you don't look after your grades, MIT'll put you out on your ass. That's how it works in college. I've seen it."

I chewed my banana bread.

"Hey," she said. "Hey. Are you OK, Lukasz?"

"I'm fine," I said.

She smiled at me. She was pretty. "But?"

I told her about my talk with AA, and about Juanca, and about how I felt like nobody was giving me my propers, and she looked very sympathetic, in a way that made me feel much younger. Like toddler younger.

"MIT is all about pranks, right? I think if I could come up with something really epic, they'd –" And as I said it, I realized how dumb it was. They laughed at me in Vienna, I'll show them! "You know what? Forget about it. I got more important things to do than screw around with those knob-ends. Work to do, right? Get the network opened up around here, you and me, Kadijah!"

"Don't let it get to you, you'll give yourself an aneurism. I'll get back to you soon, OK?"

#

I fished a bead out of my pocket and wedged it into my ear.

"Who is this?"

"Lukasz?" The voice was choked with tears.

"Who is this?" I said again.

"It's Bryan." I couldn't place the voice or the name.

"Bryan who?"

"From the Termite Mound's customer service desk." Then I recognized the voice. It was the elf, and he was having hysterics. Part of me wanted to say, Oh, diddums! and hang up. Because elves, AMR? But I'm not good at tough love.

"What's wrong?"

"They've fired me," he said. "I got called into my boss's office an hour ago and he told me to start drawing up a list of people to kick out of the dorm — he wanted the names of people who supported you. I was supposed to go through the EULAs for the dorm and find some violations for all of them –"

"What if they didn't have any violations?"

He made a sound between a sob and a laugh. "Are you kidding? You're always in violation! Have you read the EULA for the Mound? It's like sixty pages long."

"OK, gotcha. So you refused and you got fired?"

There was a pause. It drew out. "No," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "I gave them a bunch of names, and then they fired me."

Again, I was torn between the impulse to hang up on him and to hear more. Nosiness won (nosiness always wins; bets on nosiness are a sure thing). "Nicely done. Sounds like just deserts to me. What do you expect me to do about it?" But I knew. There were only two reasons to call me after something like this: to confess his sins or to get revenge. And no one would ever mistake me for a priest.

"I've got the names they pulled. Not just this time. Every time there's been any kind of trouble in the Termite Mound, MIT Residence has turfed out the troublemakers on some bogus EULA violation. They know that no one cares about student complaints, and there's always a waiting list for rooms at the Termite Mound, it's so central and all. I kept records."

"What kind of records?"

"Hardcopies of emails. They used disappearing ink for all the dirty stuff, but I just took pictures of my screen with my drop and saved it to personal storage. It's ugly. They went after pregnant girls, kids with disabilities. Any time there was a chance they'd have to do an air quality audit or fix a ramp, I'd have to find some reason to violate the tenant out of residence." He paused a moment. "They used some pretty bad language when they talked about these people, too."

The Termite Mound should've been called the Roach Motel: turn on the lights and you'd find a million scurrying bottom-feeders running for the baseboards.

I was going to turn on the lights.

"You've got all that, huh?

"Tons of it," he said. "Going back three years. I knew that if it ever got out that they'd try and blame it on me. I wanted records."

"OK," I said. "Meet me in Harvard Square, by the T entrance. How soon can you get there?"

"I'm at the Coop right now," he said. "Using a study-booth."

"Perfect," I said. "Five minutes then?"

"I'm on my way."

The Coop's study booths had big signs warning you that everything you did there was recorded — sound, video, infrared, data — and filtered for illicit behavior. The signs explained that there was no human being looking at the records unless you did something to trip the algorithm, like that made it better. If a tree falls in the forest, it sure as shit makes a sound; and if your conversation is bugged, it's bugged — whether or not a human being listens in right then or at some time in the infinite future of that data.

I beat him to the T entrance, and looked around for a place to talk. It wasn't good. From where I stood, I could see dozens of cameras, the little button-sized dots discretely placed all around the square, each with a little scannable code you could use to find out who got the footage and what it's policy was. No one ever, ever, ever bothered to do this. Ever. EULAs were not written for human consumption: a EULA's message could always be boiled down to seven words: "ABANDON HOPE, ALL YE WHO ENTER HERE." Or, more succinctly: "YOU LOSE."

I felt bad about Bryan's job. It was his own deal, of course. He'd stayed even after he knew how evil they were. And I hadn't held a gun to his head and made him put himself in the firing line. But of course, I had convinced him to. I had led him to. I felt bad.

Bryan turned up just as I was scouting a spot at an outdoor table by an ice-cream parlor. They had a bunch of big blowing heaters that'd do pretty good white-noise masking, a good light/dark contrast between the high-noon sun and the shade of the awning that would screw up cameras' white-balance, and the heaters would wreak havoc on the infra-red range of the CCTVs, or so I hoped. I grabbed Bryan, clamping down on his skinny arm through the rough weave of his forest-green cloak and dragged him into my chosen spot.

"You got it?" I said, once we were both seated and nursing hot chocolates. I got caffeinated marshmallows; he got Thai ghost pepper-flavored — though that was mostly marketing, no way those marshmallows were over a couple thousand Scovilles.

"I encrypted it with your public key," he said, handing me a folded up paper. I unfolded it and saw that it had been printed with a stegoed QR code, hidden in a Victorian woodcut. That kind of spycraft was pretty weaksauce — the two-dee-barcode-in-a-public-domain-image thing was a staple of shitty student clickbait thrillers — but if he'd really managed to get my public key and verify it and then encrypt the blob with it, I was impressed. That was about ten million times more secure than the average fumbledick ever managed. The fact that he'd handed me a hardcopy of the URL instead of emailing it to me, well, that was pretty sweet frosting. Bryan had potential.

I folded the paper away. "What should I be looking for?"

"It's all organized and tagged. You'll see." He looked nervous. "What are you going to do with it?"

"Well, for starters, I'm going to call them up and tell them I have it."

"What?" He looked like he was going to cry.

"Come on," I said. "I'm not going to tell them where I got it. The way you tell it, I'm about to get evicted, right?"

"Technically, you are evicted. There's a process-server waiting at every entrance to the Termite Mound doing face-recognition on the whole list. Soon as you go home, bam. 48 hours to clear out."

"Right," I said. "I don't want to have to go look for a place to live while I'm also destroying these shitbirds and fixing everyone's Internet connection. Get serious. So I'm going to go and talk to Messrs Amoral, Nonmoral and Immoral and explain that I have a giant dump of compromising messages from them that I'm going public with, and it'll look really, really bad for them if they turf me out now."

It's time for a true confession. I am not nearly as brave as I front. All this spycraft stuff, all the bluster about beating these guys on their home turf, yeah, in part I'm into it — I like it better than riding through life like a foil chip-bag being swept down a polluted stream on a current of raw sewage during a climate-change-driven superstorm.

But the reality is that I can't really help myself. There's some kind of rot-fungus that infects the world. Things that are good when they're small and personal grow, and as they grow, their attack-surface grows with them, and they get more and more colonized by the fungus, making up stupid policies, doing awful stuff to the people who rely on them and the people who work for them, one particle of fungus at a time, each one just a tiny and totally defensible atomic-sized spoor of rot that piles up and gloms onto all the other bits of rot until you're a walking, suppurating lesion.

No one ever set out to create the kind of organization that needs to post a "MIT RESIDENCY LLC OPERATES A ZERO-TOLERANCE POLICY TOWARD EMPLOYEE ABUSE. YOU CAN BE FINED UP TO $2000 AND/OR IMPRISONED FOR SIX MONTHS FOR ASSAULTING A CAMPUS RESIDENCE WORKER" sign. You start out trying to do something good, then your realize you can get a little richer by making it a little worse. Your thermostat for shittiness gets reset to the new level, so it doesn't seem like much of a change to turn it a notch further towards the rock-bottom, irredeemably shitty end of the scale.

The truth is that you can get really rich and huge by playing host organism to the rot-fungus. The rot-fungus diffuses its harms and concentrates its rewards. That means that healthy organisms that haven't succumbed to the rot-fungus are liable to being devoured by giant, well-funded vectors for it — think of the great local business that gets devoured by an awful hedge-fund in a leveraged takeover, looted and left as a revolting husk to shamble on until it collapses under its own weight.

I am terrified of the rot-fungus, because it seems like I'm the only person who notices it most of the time. Think of all those places where the town council falls all over itself to lure some giant corporation to open a local factory. Don't they notice that everyone who works at places like that hates every single moment of every single day? Haven't they ever tried to converse with the customer-service bots run by one of those lumbering dinos?

I mean, sure, the bigs have giant budgets and they'll take politicians out for nice lunches and throw a lot of money at their campaigns, but don't these guardians of the public trust ever try to get their cars fixed under warranty? Don't they ever buy a train ticket? Don't they ever eat at a fast food joint? Can't they smell the rot-fungus? Am I the only one? I've figured out how to fight it in my own way. Everyone else who's fighting seems to be fighting against something else — injustice or inequality or whatever, without understanding that the fungus's rot is what causes all of those things.

I'm convinced that no normal human being ever woke up one morning and said, "Dammit, my life doesn't have enough petty bureaucratic rules, zero-tolerance policies, censorship and fear in it. How do I fix that?" Instead, they let this stuff pile up, one compromise at a time, building up huge sores suppurating with spore-loaded fluids that eventually burst free and beslime everything around them. It gets normal to them, one dribble at a time.

"Lukasz, you're don't know what you're doing. These guys, they're –"

"What?" I said. "Are they the mafia or something? Are they going to have me dropped off a bridge with cement overshoes?"

He shook his head, making the twigs and beads woven into the downy fluff of his hair clatter together. "No, but they're ruthless. I mean, totally ruthless. They're not normal."

The way he said it twinged something in my hindbrain, some little squiggle of fear, but I pushed it away. "Yeah, that's OK. I'm used to abnormal." I am the most abnormal person I know.

"Be careful, seriously," he said.

"Thanks, Bryan," I said. "Don't worry about me. You want me to try and get your room back, too?"

He chewed his lip. "Don't," he said. "They'll know it was me if you do that."

I resisted the urge to shout at him to grow a spine. These assholes had cost him his home and his job (OK, I'd helped) and he was going to couch-surf it until he could find the rarest of treasures: an affordable place to live in Cambridge, Mass? Even if he was being tortured by his conscience for all his deplorable selloutism, he was still being a total wuss. But that was his deal. I mean, he was an elf, for chrissakes. Who knew what he was thinking?

"Suit yourself," I said, and went and made some preparations.

#

Messers Amoral, Nonmoral and Immoral had an office over the river in Boston, in a shabby office-block that only had ten floors, but whose company directory listed over 800 businesses. I knew the kind of place, because they showed up whenever some hairy scam unravelled and they showed you the office-of-convenience used by the con-artists who'd destroyed something that lots of people cared about and loved in order to make a small number of bad people a little richer. A kind of breeding pit for rot-fungus, in other words.

At first I thought I was going to have to go and sleuth their real locations, but I saw that Amoral, Nonmoral and Immoral had the entire third floor registered to them, while everyone else had crazy-ass, heavily qualified suite numbers like 401c(1)K, indicating some kind of internal routing code for the use of the army of rot-fungus-infected spores who ensured that correspondence was handled in a way that preserved the illusion that each of the multifarious, blandly named shell companies (I swear to Cthulhu that there was one called "International Holdings (Holdings), Ltd") was a real going concern and not a transparent ruse intended to allow the rot-fungus to spread with maximal diffusion of culpability for the carriers who did its bidding.

I punched # # #300# # # on the ancient touchscreen intercom, its surface begrimed with a glossy coat of hardened DNA, Burger King residue and sifted-down dust of the ages. It blatted like an angry sheep, once, twice, three times, then disconnected. I punched again. Again. On the fourth try, an exasperated, wheezing voice emerged: "What?"

"I'm here to speak to someone from MIT Residences LLC."

"Send an email."

"I'm a tenant. My name is Lukasz Romero." I let that sink in. "I've got some documents I'd like to discuss with a responsible individual at MIT Residences LLC." I put a bit of heavy English on documents. "Please." I put even more English on "Please." I've seen the same tough-guy videos that you have, and I can do al-pacinoid overwound Dangerous Dude as well as anyone. "Please," I said again, meaning "Right. Now."

There was an elongated and ominous pause, punctuated by muffled rustling and grumbling, and what may have been typing on an old-fashioned, mechanical keyboard. "Come up," a different voice said. The elevator to my left ground as the car began to lower itself.

#

I'd expected something sinister — a peeling dungeon of a room where old men with armpit-stains gnawed haunches of meat and barked obscenities at each other. Instead, I found myself in an airy, high-ceilinged place that was straight out of the publicity shots for MIT's best labs, the ones that had been set-dressed by experts who'd ensured that no actual students had come in to mess things up before the photographer could get a beautifully lit shot of the platonic perfection.

The room took up the whole floor, dotted with conversation pits with worn, comfortable sofas whose end-tables sported inconspicuous charge-plates for power-hungry gadgets. The rest of the space was made up of new-looking worksurfaces and sanded-down antique wooden desks that emitted the honeyed glow of a thousand coats of wax buffed by decades of continuous use. The light came from tall windows and full-spectrum spotlights that were reflected and diffused off the ceiling, which was bare concrete and mazed with cable-trays and conduit. I smelled good coffee and toasting bread and saw a perfectly kept little kitchenette to my left.

There were perhaps a dozen people working in the room, standing at the worksurfaces, mousing away at the antique desks, or chatting intensely in the conversation pits. It was a kind of perfect tableau of industrious tech-company life, something out of a recruiting video. The people were young and either beautiful, handsome or both. I had the intense, unexpected desire to work here, or a place like this. It had good vibes.

One of the young, handsome people stood up from his conversation nook and smoothed out the herringbone wool hoodie he was wearing, an artfully cut thing that managed to make him look like both a young professor and an undergraduate at the same time. It helped that he was so fresh-faced, with apple cheeks and a shock of curly brown hair.

"Lukasz, right?" He held out a hand. He was wearing a dumbwatch, a wind-up thing in a steel casing that was fogged with a century of scratches. I coveted it instantly, though I knew nothing about its particulars, I was nevertheless certain that it was expensive, beautifully engineered, and extremely rare.

The door closed behind me and the magnet audibly reengaged. The rest of the people in the room studiously ignored us.

"I'm Sergey. Can I get you a cup of coffee? Tea? Some water?"

The coffee smelled good. "No thank you," I said. "I don't think I'll be here for long."

"Of course. Come and sit."

The other participants in his meeting had already vacated the sofas and left us with a conversation pit all to ourselves. I sank into the sofa and smelled the spicy cologne of a thousand eager, well-washed people who'd sat on it before me, impregnating the upholstery with the spoor of their good perfumes.

He picked up a small red enamel teapot and poured a delicious-smelling stream of yellow-green steaming liquid into a chunky diner-style coffee-cup. He sipped it. My stomach growled. "You told the receptionist you wanted to talk about some documents?"

"Yeah," I said, pulling myself together. "I've got documentary evidence of this company illegally evicting tenants — students — who got pregnant, complained about substandard living conditions and maintenance issues, and, in my case, complained about the network filters at the Termite Mound."

He cocked his head for a moment like he was listening for something in the hum and murmur of the office around him. I found myself listening, too, but try as I might, I couldn't pick out a single individual voice from the buzz, not even a lone intelligble word. It was as though they were all going "murmurmurmurmur," though I could see their lips moving and shaping what must have been words.

"Ah," he said at last. "Well, that's very unfortunate. Can you give me a set and I'll escalate them up our chain to ensure that they're properly dealt with?"

"I can give you a set," I said. "But I'll also be giving a set to the MIT ombudsman and the The Tech and the local Wikileaks Party rep. Sergey, forgive me, but you don't seem to be taking this very seriously. The material in my possession is the sort of thing that could get you and your colleagues here sued into a smoking crater."

"Oh, I appreciate that there's a lot of potential liability in the situation you describe, but it wouldn't be rational for me to freak out now, would it? I haven't seen your documents, and if I had, I can neither authenticate them nor evaluate the risk they represent. So I'll take a set from you and ensure that the people within our organization who have the expertise to manage this sort of thing get to them quickly."

It's funny. I'd anticipated that he'd answer like a chatbot, vomiting up Markov-chained nothings from the lexicon of the rot-fungus: "we take this very seriously," "we cannot comment on ongoing investigations," "we are actioning this with a thorough inquiry and post-mortem" and other similar crapola. Instead, he was talking like a hacker on a mailing list defending the severity he'd assigned to a bug he owned.

"Sergey, that's not much of an answer."

He sipped that delicious tea some more. "Is there something in particular you wanted to hear from me? I mean, this isn't the sort of thing that you find out about then everything stops until you've figured out what to do next."

I was off-balance. "I wanted –" I waved my hands. "I wanted an explanation. How the hell did this systematic abuse come about?"

He shrugged. He really didn't seem very worried "Hard to say, really. Maybe it was something out of the labs."

"What do you mean, 'the labs'?"

He gestured vaguely at one cluster of particularly engrossed young men and women who were bent over screens and worksurfaces, arranged in pairs or threesomes, collaborating with fierce intensity, reaching over to touch each others' screens and keyboards in a way I found instantly and deeply unsettling. "We've got a little R&D lab that works on some of our holdings. We're really dedicated to disrupting the rental market. There's so much money in it, you know, but mostly it's run by these entitled jerks who think that they're geniuses for having the brilliant idea of buying a building and then sitting around and charging rent on it. A real old boys' club." For the first time since we started talking, he really seemed to be alive and present and paying attention.

"Oh, they did some bits and pieces that gave them the superficial appearance of having a brain, but there's a lot of difference between A/B splitting your acquisition strategy and really deep-diving into the stuff that matters."

At this stage, I experienced a weird dissonance. I mean, I was there because these people were doing something genuinely villainous, real rot-fungus stuff. On the other hand, well, this sounded cool. I can't lie. I found it interesting. I mean, catnip-interesting.

"I mean, chewy questions. Like, if the median fine for a second citation for substandard plumbing is $400, and month-on-month cost for plumbing maintenance in a given building is $2,000 a month, and the long-term costs of failure to maintain are $20,000 for full re-plumbing on a 8-10 year basis with a 75 percent probability of having to do the big job in year nine, what are the tenancy parameters that maximize your return over that period?"

"Tenancy parameters?"

He looked at me. I was being stupid. I don't like that look. I suck at it. It's an ego thing. I just find it super-hard to deal with other people thinking that I'm dumb. I would probably get more done in this world if I didn't mind it so much. But I do. It's an imperfect world, and I am imperfect.

"Tenancy parameters. What are the parameters of a given tenant that predict whether he or she will call the city inspectors given some variable setpoint of substandard plumbing, set on a scale that has been validated through a rigorous regression through the data that establishes quantifiable inflection points relating to differential and discrete maintenance issues, including leaks, plugs, pressure, hot water temperature and volume, and so on. It's basically just a solve-for-x question, but it's one with a lot of details in the model that are arrived at through processes with a lot of room for error, so the model needs a lot of refinement and continuous iteration.

"And of course, it's all highly sensitive to external conditions — there's a whole game-theoretical set of questions about what other large-scale renters do in response to our own actions, and there's a information-theory dimension to this that's, well, it's amazing. Like, which elements of our strategy are telegraphed when we take certain actions as opposed to others, and how can those be steganographed through other apparent strategies.

"Now, most of these questions we can answer through pretty straightforward business processes, stuff that Amazon figured out twenty years ago. But there's a real risk of getting stuck in local maxima, just you know, overoptimizing inside of one particular paradigm with some easy returns. That's just reinventing the problem, though, making us into tomorrow's dinosaurs.

"If we're going to operate a culture of continuous improvement, we need to be internally disrupted to at least the same extent that we're disrupting those fat, stupid incumbents. That's why we have the labs. They're our chaos monkeys. They do all kinds of stuff that keeps our own models sharp. For example, they might incorporate a separate business and use our proprietary IP to try to compete with us — without telling us about it. Or give a set of autonomous agents privileges to communicate eviction notices in a way that causes a certain number of lawsuits to be filed, just to validate our assumptions about the pain-point at which an action or inaction on our side will trigger a suit from a tenant, especially for certain profiles of tenants.

"So there's not really any way that I can explain specifically what happened to the people mentioned in your correspondence. It's possible no one will ever be able to say with total certainty. I don't really know why anyone would expect it to be otherwise. We're not a deterministic state-machine, after all. If all we did was respond in set routines to set inputs, it'd be trivial to innovate around us and put us out of business. Our objective is to be strategically nonlinear and anti-deterministic within a range of continuously validated actions that map and remap a chaotic terrain of profitable activities in relation to property and rental. We're not rentiers, you understand. We don't own assets for a living. We do things with them. We're doing commercial science that advances the state of the art. We're discovering deep truths lurking in potentia in the shape of markets and harnessing them — putting them to work."

His eyes glittered. "Lukasz, you come in here with your handful of memos and you ask me to explain how they came about, as though this whole enterprise was a state-machine that we control. We do not control the enterprise. An enterprise is an artificial life-form built up from people and systems in order to minimize transaction costs so that it can be nimble and responsive, so that it can move into niches, dominate them, fully explore them. The human species has spent millennia recombining its institutions to uncover the deep, profound mathematics of power and efficiency.

"It's a terrain with a lot of cul-de-sacs and blind alleys. There are local maxima: maybe a three-move lookahead shows a good outcome from evicting someone who's pregnant and behind on the rent, but the six-move picture is different, because someone like you comes along and makes us look like total assholes. That's fine. All that means is that we have to prune that branch of the tree, try a new direction. Hell, ideally, you'd be in there so early, and give us such a thoroughgoing kicking, that we'd be able to discover and abort the misfire before the payload had fully deployed. You'd be saving us opportunity cost. You'd be part of our chaos-monkey.

"Lukasz, you come in here with your whistleblower memos. But I'm not participating in a short-term exercise. Our mission here is to quantize, systematize, harness and perfect interactions.

"You come in here and you want me to explain, right now, what we're going to do about your piece of information. Here's your answer, Lukasz: we will integrate it. We will create models that incorporate disprovable hypotheses about it, we will test those models, and we will refine them. We will make your documents part of our inventory of clues about the underlying nature of deep reality. Does that answer satisfy you, Lukasz?"

I stood up. Through the whole monologue, Sergey's eyes had not moved from mine, nor had his body-language shifted, nor had he demonstrated one glimmer of excitement or passion. Instead, he'd been matter-of-fact, like he'd been explaining the best way to make an omelet or the optimal public transit route to a distant suburb. I was used to people geeking out about the stuff they did. I'd never experienced this before, though: it was the opposite of geeking out, or maybe a geeking out that went so deep that it went through passion and came out the other side.

It scared me. I'd encountered many different versions of hidebound authoritarianism, fought the rot-fungus in many guises, but this was not like anything I'd ever seen. It had a purity that was almost… seductive.

But beautiful was not the opposite of terrible. The two could easily co-exist.

"I hear that I'm going to get evicted when I get back to the Termite Mound — you've got a process-server waiting for me. That's what I hear."

Sergey shrugged. "And?"

"And? And what use is your deep truth to me if I'm out on the street?"

"What's your point?"

He was as mild and calm as a recorded airport safety announcement. There was something inhuman — transhuman? — in that dispassionate mein.

"Don't kick me out of my place."

"Ah. Excuse me a second."

He finished his tea, set the cup down and headed over to the lab. He chatted with them, touched their screens. The murmur drowned out any words. I didn't try to disguise the fact that I was watching them. There was a long period during which they said nothing, did not touch anything, just stared at the screens with their heads so close together they were almost touching. It was a kind of pantomime of psychic communications.

He came back. "Done," he said. "Is there anything else? We're pretty busy around here."

"Thank you," I said. "No, that's about it."

"All right then," he said. "Are you going to leave me your documents?"

"Yes," I said, and passed him a stack of hardcopies. He looked at the paper for a moment, folded the stack carefully at the middle and put it in one of the wide side-pockets of his beautifully tailored cardigan.

I found my way back down to the ground floor and was amazed to see that the sun was still up. It had felt like hours had passed while Sergey had talked to me, and I could have sworn that the light had faded in those tall windows. But, checking my drop, I saw that it was only three o'clock. I had to be getting home.

There was a process-server waiting ostentatiously in the walkway when I got home, but he looked at me and then down at his screen and then let me pass.

It was only once I was in my room that I realized I hadn't done anything about Bryan's eviction.

[atangledfate]

Jewel Watched the others closely to gauge there reactions as she knew Lanolin had effectively been in command thus far. She didn't know what more she could add. but, she just had to get everyone motivated and on point. Her first major priority was to get Surge in a room alone so she could could make a confession recording. This would be important as GUN wouldn't be able to manipulate it how they pleased. It would be vital in the future if they ever expected to get her story in to the public eye.

" Miss Surge i understand you probably have alot on your mind right now. But i also know you want to keep Kitsunami safe... we need your full confession on tap for that. Plus... you two likely have alot to discuss..."

She placed the recorder down in front of Surge and Kitsunami and motioned to a room off to one side.

" You can have all the privacy you like... when you both are ready, just record what you remember, your feelings... emotions... your story. Alot people don't know about either of you... and i want this to be your chance to speak your mind--- To tell the world your side of things. You ... might not get another chance... "

Jewel turned around to Belle fluttering over to her so she could address her directly. She thought about it but, that was highly invasive in her eyes. Belle had been a valued member of her organization and, she had PLENTY of evidence of her good nature and desire to do right by everyone!

" No Belle that would be like... a Truth Serum to us. Even worse then that in reality... we have lots of people who can vouch for you... and not just sonic and tails either. Good people you worked with every day...plenty of hard working individuals who will stand beside you. I have no intention of handing you over... come what may i will personally use all my political sway to push back on any attempt to take you "

Tails shifted his head at Blaze as this was new information, and it wasn't good information. If Starline had some method of survival, it could be similar to what Surge and Kit had, or something else. A robotic double? Eggman used that trick lots. The bigger fear was that there were still more like Surge and Kitsunami out there. Other projects yet uncovered.

" Its always been a possibility... Guys like Starline always have a backup plan. I'm more worried what he'd do with your genetic data if he got ahold of it...it could explain some of Surge's abilities but... just as likely he used it for who knows what else. "

He sighed and his eyes shifted to Surge and Kit who he doubted would take this information well. That the man who tortured and cut them up was alive or worse made another like them.

" Either way... its probably best we worry about that after this crisis is over... no point dwelling on it now..."

The sheep sighed and stepped forward gripping the railing as she looked down at Miles and the others. It would be important to ask now especially with Surge in the room. Especially with how important this would be to her specifically.

" Blaze believes it might be prudent to inform GUN of this... or even use it as a bargaining chip or a sign of good faith. I'm not so sure about that... so we need to get everyone's feelings on this...should we involve GUN? or take care of this possibility on our own..."

Her eyes landed on Surge as she wondered how this information was going to effect her especially.

" Since its a very personal topic for you two.. i thought it important to ask now... before we go any further... "

"I for one personally thing messing with time isn't a great idea, though it does seem Silver always has an idea of what to do somehow." Belle hadn't actually met Silver so was going off mostly stories, though it from what she's heard he always came to the past knowing a specific problem to fix. This had made the tinkerer wonder what the hedgehog was here to fix this time, though hoped it wasn't because of something G.U.N will do.

"Don't feel like it," Surge said while keeping her focus on Drippy. Wasn't going to be easy talking down the fennec to letting them take her, though she can pull it off. That said, the tenrec found it hard to ignore the fact he was fidgeting so just put a hand on top of his head. It seemed to calm him down, though he clearly had his thinking face on. Of course he wasn't fully believing that she'd turn herself in.

===========================================================

"I wouldn't be too sure. After all, there could still be a difference of opinions when we bring this news up. Though I suppose having Jewel's input is a wise choice." Blaze wasn't sure how easy of a decision this would actually be given everyone in the room, though supposed there was only one way to find out. Hopefully things don't get out of hand.

===========================================================

"My story is I fucked up the city and tried to ice Sonic and Tails on my own. That's the truth, and I intend to stick with it." Surge didn't see a point in saying what everyone already knew. "And if I'm being honest, I sorta blacked out at one point." The tenrec remembered who she was fighting thanks to Drippy explain it, though at one point everything was a blur. Maybe because that device was putting her brain on overdrive.

"I also have thought of an idea for dispelling G.U.N's fears about my programming. Perhaps we could offer one of their tech specialist to check my code and programming, supervised of course. I may not be fully comfortable with the idea, though if they want to push the subject it would be a smart way." Belle knew that was the main reason for targeting her, though hopefully seeing that her program rejects the Eggnet might put them at ease.

"There is another matter to talk about, though it's a bit of a delicate matter," Blaze said, taking a moment to make sure she knew how she wanted to say this. "So, I myself was attacked by this Starline fellow. I believe it was before what he did to Surge and Kitsunami. However, I thought I had ended him. Seems I was mistaken, so with that said he could've survived his battle with Eggman."

[1moreff-creator]

Fool's Table MV - Analysis

I absolutely adore this MV so it's getting an immediate analysis post. I cannot fucking believe what was in it. After playing coy with Mai for so long, we get an entire MV about her and Teruko?!?! The Terumai stocks are through the roof and my adoration is immeasurable. Let's go!!!

I hope I'm able to pick up on at least most of the most important details, I am doing this a bit off the cuff lol. As always, an important disclaimer is that the following is just my interpretation, I could be wrong about some things, and others may have multiple valid interpretations, I’m not claiming that my way of seeing the MV is the only “right” one, yadda yadda, you know this by now.

First, the description:

Together, alone, until the curtains close, I want to dance on the stage with you.

Pretty straightforward. The entire MV is framed on a stage, there's curtains, Mai and Teruko even dance. Just reinforcing the togetherness of Mai and Teruko (and don’t worry, we’ll get to that).

But, wait. Not everyone knows who Mai is, or what we already knew of her relationship with Teruko. That’s understandable, she’s had literally 9 seconds of screen time in the main series, and while it’s widely speculated she’s Unnamed Classmate, that’s not immediately obvious.

If you don’t know anything about her, I'll recommend you read up on the relevant sections of my secrets masterpost, since all you really need is her profile, Mai quotes and maybe her LGI numeral to understand this post. Or, if you're down for a longer read, my only somewhat outdated Mai post.

Next, we have to ask, what is Fool's Table actually about? I find it helps to talk about the song's overall meaning before diving into any specific lines, so we can better understand them in context.

Fool's Table is a song primarily about societal rules and expectations, and what it means to live within them. You'll see plenty of references to manners, people wearing masks, etc. The song also dwells on the concept that suffering is an inherent part of being human, and how to deal with this fact. The titular Fool's Table refers to life itself; it's framed both as a table, where society would claim manners and cleanliness are important, and described as a stage in various occasions, somewhere to dance and dirty and act on. You'll see what I mean when we get to line by line analysis, which this should be enough to get us started on, I think!

We open on a shot of a table, filled with plenty of different foods. Given this is the "table of life", you can easily interpret this as a representation of the large amount of experiences which life can offer. Before Teruko and Mai appear, the following lyrics play:

I'll deliver the final blow Already, that kid has a pitiful look on their face Everything everywhere is in flames Savages acting "sensitive"

"Everything everywhere is in flames" is pretty straightforward, I think. A very Teruko-like sentiment. This sentiment is possibly why the table that represents life is shown upside down; being "upside down" is a way of showing that everything's wrong with it, and by extension the world. The "final blow" mentioned, in my opinion, is showing this "truth" to the "kid with a pitiful face." Basically, this kid, possibly a stand-in for all children, was already sad, and now you're telling them everything is in shambles because of "savages" who pretend to be more compassionate, "sensitive", than they truly are.

On its surface, this seems like exactly the kind of fatalism that Teruko has held throughout most of her life. However, the next lines actually recontextualize these statements in quite an important way.

Let's let the flowers bloom until the end From the cradle to the grave, there's not enough love! Impatient guests, in a hurry Everyone is wearing the same face

This reveals that the singer actually wants things to get better, "flowers to bloom until the end." Although discontent with the current state of the world, with all these people who have lost their identity ("wearing the same face") due to "being in a hurry" (which you can interpret in a few different ways but it's not all that important for us), they seem to believe there are ways to improve it. And this idea that the singer wishes to go against society and make a better world for themselves is immediately tied to Teruko in the next line.

"You have no manners"

(The color's not actually in the MV just to be clear lol)

So first, sick animation. DRDTDev is awesome.

Anyways, there's the connection. For all that Teruko in current canon doesn't particularly believe her life can get better, she's certainly someone who goes against what is expected of her, here represented by dropping her cutlery and eating with her mouth. That's because Teruko doesn't think acting the way others act is going to help her, so she does her own thing. For example, pushing everyone away after the first trial, when others would want her to be more approachable. And with this idea, we reach Teruko's side of the table.

Now, gather around the pure white table

"The pure white table" is an ironic statement. Remember, the table represents life, so pretending it's "pure white" would imply it's simple and orderly, which the singer obviously doesn't believe. To amplify the irony, the statement is contrasted by the image of Teruko spilling blood all over the "pure white table." The statement is pretty clear: Teruko is a challenge to the orderly nature of society. Not only because she's a disruptive person herself, but because her life of misfortune is in itself a challenge to the idea that everything's perfect and okay, the mask that the other people mentioned before in the song wear.

Dance on spinning dishes, oh no

I actually quite like this line. The imagery of dishes is obviously connected to the table, which represents life, but spinning dishes in particular is a circus trick. Literally calling the world a circus, lmao. And asking you to dance on the dishes once again invites images of disorder and going against expectations.

We've forgotten the right way to breathe

AND THE CROWD GOES WILD!!!!!

Indeed, our favorite mystery girl (and birthday girl!), Mai Akasaki, makes an appearance. Unlike Teruko, Mai's eating with her cutlery, the way society would want her to. And this isn't exactly the first time we've seen Mai be contrasted with Teruko in this kind of vibe, remember?

In the LGI MV, Teruko is described as "someone dearly unloved", while Mai is "someone dearly loved." If you know anything about Mai, you know the idea that she's perfect by all standards, including societal ones, isn't exactly new.

However, it's worth noting that this is only a first impression. We'll see Mai dancing on the table later, and based on that and the whole "document" situation with Xander and Unnamed Classmate in Visiting Graves, we know Mai's perfectly fine with going against the grain and doing what she believes is right, despite what society may think. That said, unlike Teruko, her existence isn't actually a threat to the status quo, as she's:

[Mai Quote - Min]: An average girl with nothing special at all about her.

It's worth noting, though, she seems to be eating flowers instead of food. This can be an early indication of her more rebellious leanings (you eat food, not flowers), but I think it could be meant to serve as further contrast with Teruko. Remember how the foods could represent life experiences? Well, "eating flowers" in that sense could mean that Mai actually had a pretty pleasant life, which is entirely possible as, again, ordinary girl. We know from Charles' Mai quote that she loves her family, from Whit's that she has many friends, and from Visiting Graves that she doesn't have money issues. She could certainly have other issues, mind you, but right now we don't have much indication of it.

Oh also the lyric. "We've forgotten the right way to breathe" is just another way the singer has of expressing dissatisfaction with how others act. It seems like it's explicitly ambiguous whether Mai is one of the people who've forgotten the right way to breathe, or one of the people who hold the singer's opinion, playing into the dichotomy of how Mai is first presented here (eating properly) and how she dances on the table later. By the way, the word "we" actually appears and disappears before Mai shows up on screen, while the camera is still in the middle, so take that as you will.

It's all over once we drown What a luxurious dining table!

To quickly cover the lyrics, "drowning" I imagine is an allegory for death. Remember how the singer was upset others "lived in a hurry"? Yeah that. And the "luxurious" dining table thing is once again sarcastic.

You might have been wondering if I was ever going to talk about the things on the table, and don't worry, I am about to, I was just waiting for this wide shot. In general, I think most of what's on it is decorative, as I struggle to find any metaphors hidden in most of the food. The 12 colored biscuits next to Mai may be representative of the 12 members of the cast who are still alive in the killing game, maybe, but I don't think some of the colors match all that well (where does yellow go? why do we have so little blue?). Could also be the altDRDT cast + mascot, as pointed out by accirax. I don't think it's too important to know what this is, so I'll leave it open-ended.

The candles are a point of interest to me, though. The one on Mai's side is taller, but further from her, while the one on Teruko's side is smaller, but closer to her. There are like a billion ways you can interpret that, but I'm gonna choose to think of them as the two girls' "warmth", if that makes sense. Teruko is keeping it closer to herself, not as willing to open up, and the candle's shorter, so she has less warmth to give. Conversely, Mai is more willing to give Teruko her "warmth", as she's a really nice person from what we know, and that warmth is very intense judging from the length of the candle. Works well enough for me.

Finally, the most important part of the table, the cake. Obviously the centerpiece, it has both flowers and a red liquid, which I assume we're meant to see as blood. Notably, the side facing Teruko has the blood on top and the flowers below, possibly representing the way Teruko, at least in CH2, shows off her harsher side to the world while hiding more delicate and complicated feelings. Meanwhile, Mai's side has the blood being covered by the flowers, as if implying that Mai's kindness and love hide a fiercer soul underneath. Given the whole "she was probably staging some kind of revolution against Hope's Peak with Xander based on Visiting Graves" thing, I'd say that's a pretty accurate description of her character. Not to say she's intentionally hiding an evil side or anything, just that her real feelings are more complicated than what her seemingly perfect exterior suggest.

I haven't talked about the flowers because they're drawn the same as the flowers on Mai's tattoo, the Bonus Episode text boxes, and the "flowers of an unknown species" of the LGI MV. If you know the common interpretations, you'll know the two popular options for what they are is white camellias or white mai flowers. White camellias represent purity and honor like other white flowers, though they also specifically represent adoration and respect and are popular funeral flowers in Japan; while Mai flowers represent "prosperity, happiness in the new year, as well as resilience against storms and challenges", and the yellow variation of the flowers is connected to a legend about a girl who died protecting her father and village from a snake monster. Oh yeah Mai's probably dead by the time the killing game starts. 'Cuz, you know.

See that arrow pointing to Mai's portrait when her numeral XI shows up alongside the word God?

Yeah it's not very subtle. Mai's God, Mai's dead. There are other interpretations for this, mind you, but there's also other reasons to believe she's dead, so.

Trash is trash, trash will act like trash Fools are fools, fools will act like fools That's the ironclad rule of society And there's no room to complain

You get the lyrics by now, right? I don't have to point out that this is once again talking about rigid societal rules and expectations? Good!

Everyone everywhere is a nuisance The noisy crowd from earlier

For now, let's dance in the palm of their hands

Yay more pretty animation! :D

Here, the singer once again insults society at large, but also says that "for now, let's dance in the palm of their hands." As in, they're not fully ready to complete go against society yet, and will engage with its expectations for a while longer.

However, we're actually left with a pretty important question: what the fuck is the apple? Apples are usually representative of the “forbidden fruit”, a temptation or desire which goes against what is accepted. So, perhaps Mai is doing as the lyric on screen says; by discarding the apple, she’s discarding that which is forbidden by society and “dancing in the palm of their hand.”

That’s certainly an understandable interpretation, but I don’t find it fully convincing, because it just… doesn’t fit Mai.

[Mai Quote - Xander]: She couldn’t stand to do nothing.

Not only because of the whole “rebelling against Hope’s Peak” thing, but because later in this very MV, she’s seen dancing on the table with Teruko, going against societal expectations.

Additionally, it doesn’t explain what giving the apple to the dog would represent. Dogs can’t go against human societal norms, as far as I know. So, that’s another point that would need to be explained in that interpretation.

But maybe the doggy can help us? Maybe we can get to another interpretation through it, because I feel like I’ve seen it somewhere before-

Oh for the love of- Can this stop being the most plot relevant execution of all time???????? I don't want to think about it anymore!!!!!! /silly

Yes, the presence of a black dog/wolf is an explicit callback to Min’s execution. This would draw a connection between the apple and Min. On the surface, there are a few other ways we can connect them, as apples have a lot of associations with a bunch of things. In pop culture, apples are a common gift students give their teachers, and Min is a Student who wished to be a teacher. Allow me to ignore that this could also connect to the About Page Text and altDRDT Teacher real quick, since this connection is very minor and very cherry picked and only works because of the dog that doesn’t have ties to those two things.

However, it does bring even more issues with the interpretation I previously mentioned. Because, to put it bluntly, Min is the exact opposite of going against societal norms. Her recap foil is the Rebel, she’s under the orders of XF-Ture Tech, you know the drill.

Is it possible, then, that the meaning of the apple is the opposite as well? That eating the apple represents accepting society’s rules? It may seem weird with the associations to forbidden-ness I mentioned earlier, but if you go back and look at the Lone Apple scenes again, this idea gets a bit stronger.

The apple is full when the singer talks about the ironclad rules of society, as if implying that the apple is the ironclad rule. Then, right before we hear the singer talk about dancing in the palm of the hand of the “noisy crowd”, the apple is seen eaten, as if eating it is directly connected to dancing in their palm and following the rules. This would be consistent with the apple’s connection to Min, as Min herself is representative of following societal expectations as discussed earlier.

But then, why would it be “forbidden”? Well, I propose that we’ve been thinking about it wrong. The apple isn’t forbidden from society’s perspective, but from Teruko’s perspective.

Theory: An “Unfortunate” Point of View

The idea is that the MV doesn’t show things from a neutral perspective, but rather, from Teruko’s perspective, specifically. I’ll discuss why I believe this in more detail in a bit, but for now, I’ll ask you to bear with me.

This is the final piece of the puzzle for my take on the apple. Since the world has been unkind to Teruko, playing along with the rules of the world would make you an enemy in her eyes. She has been opposed to them from the very start of this MV, after all. Thus, the act of accepting the “ironclad rules”, eating the apple and “dancing in the noisy crowd’s palm”, would be seen by Teruko as eating a forbidden fruit. Therefore, the MV presents it as such, since I believe it’s shown from her perspective.

However, Mai discards the apple, which in this case is consistent with her dancing on the table later. She’s forgoing society’s rules and “throwing them to the wolves.”

Am I cooking? Am I burning down the kitchen? I have no idea! But that’s what makes it fun! This whole thing is obviously very up to interpretation, and there’s not really such a thing as a right or wrong one, really. I’m very open to hearing other interpretations on this thing.

Btw while we’re here, the wolf thing could also be connected to Elliot’s death, since he likely got killed by dogs as well (long story). In that case, the apple could represent knowledge, as in, the “forbidden” knowledge of Elliot’s existence and death. But… that’s kinda really disconnected from the rest of the MV and I don’t know how to relate it to the other lines the apple is seen alongside. So, throwing it out there, but I don’t think there’s a connection there.

Finally, I don’t think Mai’s the mastermind. Yes, I know that her throwing something to a wolf could be an allegory to her executing Min. But as stated earlier, it’s likely she’s already dead, and it’s kinda hard to mastermind a killing game from beyond the grave. You could connect it, in a more roundabout way, to theories that Mai’s death caused the killing game, but I don’t think it can really go further than that.

Gather around the pure white table Dance on spinning dishes, oh no We've forgotten the right way to breathe Let’s continue until we drown

Same lyrics as before, except for the change of “let’s continue until we drown.” It fits with Teruko lying on the table, not really doing anything. See, I believe this moment represents one where Teruko has given up on actively fighting, and is just deciding to go along with the flawed society she lives in. If I compared her eating with her hands earlier with her attitude at the start of CH2, this could be compared to her attitude when MonoTV told her she’d get executed but before Levi jumped in. That is, resigned and just letting things happen. This bouncing between harsh and “socially condemned” methods of self-preservation and resignation to her fate is a common thing for Teruko, I find.

Go ahead, enjoy the sour and sweet as you please Forever uncertain, I’ve held onto this poison Let it make my cells dance With those sharp-edged words! Our pain, we couldn’t choose any of it Look, it’s spinning round and round On the dining table of “life”

Yeah remember that thing about Teruko resigning herself to her fate and bad luck? “Our pain, we couldn’t choose any of it” is pretty in line with that. Teruko’s just accepted that bad things will happen, the world’s terrible and her existence is suffering. Hence, “enjoy the sour and sweet as you please” while she’s lying on the table; she’s a meal ready to be consumed by those who hurt her at their whims.

And who do I mean by “those who hurt her”? Well, if you didn’t catch it, the type of knife and its placement is a clear echo of Xander stabbing Teruko. Now, judging by several of her statements through the series, Xander isn’t the only person who’s ever hurt her, but he does work as a stand-in. Someone Teruko trusted has stabbed her in the… I’d say back but it was really the stomach, and she thinks this is what will always happen if she opens herself to hoping things will be better. She wants to, to some extent (“forever uncertain”), but she knows it will still hurt her eventually (the poison “making her cells dance”).

Well, except.

Here Mai is, pointing a knife away from Teruko. Defending her, possibly. This is the same knife she held at the start, the one which seemed to suggest Mai was playing by the rules of society. Except, she’s now taken those things, and is now using it to point at whoever may want to “eat” Teruko. That could represent a couple of things, but the most straightforward idea for me is that several of the things that make Mai a standup member of society are also just good traits for a friendship, such as her kindness and compassion.

Now, the next section has a lot of repeated images, so I’m just going to describe what shows up with each lyric.

[Mai pointing knife from uninjured Teruko] Now, gather around the pure white table Dance on spinning dishes, oh no [Teruko stabbed, alone] We’ve forgotten the right way to breathe [Mai holding knife, Teruko hidden] It’s all over once we drown (What luxurious dining table!)

(Btw you can know if Teruko is injured or not by facial expression, if you were wondering how I could tell)

Chorus, we know the lyrics. However, I’d like to point out that the line “we’ve forgotten the right way to breathe” is shown with Teruko injured and no Mai, possibly implying that being alone is “the wrong way to breathe” as it gets Teruko injured. That’s my favorite interpretation for that, anyways. Also ominous showing Mai front and center when talking about drowning as an allegory for death, but frankly? This is the first “dead” allegation she’s caught this entire video, and seeing how she managed to catch, like, three in the two seconds her numeral shows up in LGI alone, I’m actually quite proud of her! She may not be beating the allegations, but at least she's not getting one per scene!

Now, play a pure black elegy Let’s dance on the palm of your hand, oh no How does it feel to be devoured by the prey you once mocked?

Let’s start by focusing on what’s happening with Teruko in in the background, because it’s quite sweet. Not only does she start smiling and crying in joy, her stomach is covered in Mai’s signature flowers. This is pretty clear; Mai’s kindness has “fixed” the injuries other people had caused Teruko, her flowers covering up the Xander related injury that serves as a stand-in for all the betrayals Teruko’s endured over the years.

Admittedly, such heartwarming visuals are a bit of a contrast to the line “play a pure black elegy”, which if you don’t know is a “poem of serious reflection, usually a lament for the dead”, and the whole “devoured by the prey you once mocked” thing. However, that’s presumably because Mai is still very much holding a knife up to someone, so we can get away with some darker stuff.

I choose to interpret these lines as these two effectively talking to the status quo of Teruko’s life, if that makes sense. With Mai’s help, Teruko’s finally regained the courage to fight against her fate and stand up again, looking to “devour” the vague enemy of her luck whom she was always the prey to. The elegy, then, is aimed at this vague enemy, who they seek to defeat and “kill.” Does that make sense?

And this is the final link I need to explain my aforementioned “this MV is from Teruko’s perspective” theory. Because, you see, I believe this entire MV shows a story, and there’s an arc about Mai and Teruko’s friendship which can be followed. I believe this MV represents the process of Teruko befriending Mai, from Teruko’s perspective.

Think about it. It starts with Teruko and Mai literally opposed to one another, and Mai effectively being shown as one of the people who “wears the same face” as the others, given she’s following proper table manners. She’s nothing special, just someone else who will betray Teruko eventually, hence Teruko’s almost angry expression on that table. Someone who will bite that “forbidden fruit” that is the ironclad rule of the world. Trash will be trash, fools will be fools, and Teruko will be unlucky and get betrayed.

But then, Mai rejects the apple. And when she grabs the knife again, she points it away from Teruko, even when Teruko was lying on the table and ready to get hurt again. This is also, by the way, the first time Mai opens her eyes in the MV; the first time Teruko and her see eye to eye (per se). Because Mai always trusted Teruko, always wanted to be her friend, and only now is that good faith being returned. Well, I assume she never had any bad intentions, anyways.

Look, from how Mai is usually presented, she may as well be perfect in my books. If I catch her burning an orphanage, I’d probably assume the orphans deserved it. This is hyperbole, of course, but only barely.

And so, Mai has officially broken through Teruko’s bad luck and allowed her to “devour” that horrid fate which had always been pushing her down, allowing them to finally dance together in the end, smiling all the while.

Now, obviously, this makes 15000 assumptions as to how Mai and Teruko actually met, what their relationship was like, etc. There are a million things I may have just gotten horribly wrong. But as always, we know too little about Mai to make any good theories without a lot of assumptions. And with the little we do know, this interpretation makes sense in my mind, so it’s the one I’m currently going with!

Go ahead, enjoy the sour and sweet as you please Forever certain, we’ve been waiting for love Let these cells dance With that completely decayed mind! Nothing will be taken from us Our pain and everything is spinning On the dining table of “life” What a luxurious fool’s table!

Look, by this point, you’ve heard what this scene is all about. Mai and Teruko finally both throw away the rules of society and dance upon the table together, not caring what they destroy or messy up in the process. They’re more certain now, because they’ve found the love they were looking for, and feel like nothing will go wrong because “nothing will be taken from us.” The pain’s still there, but they’ll face it together! What a wonderfully hopeful ending! Ignore that Mai's probably dead please.

And since this part’s pretty easy, it gives me time to appreciate the yuri!

You see, this may be something I’ve only ever brought up once, but Teru-Min-Mai is my favorite DRDT ship, and it has been for a while. And while I can’t find any excuse to talk about Min for longer than I already have (a tragedy, I know), I can spare some time to spread the Terumai side of the Agenda, at least! I’ve seen a few people start thinking about shipping it too because of this MV, so let me make a sales pitch. Ehem.

-Opposing themes: You’ve heard of the “dearly unloved” and “dearly loved” thing from the portraits, but did you know red and green are complimentary colors?

-Looking for each other: I mean, just look at what can show up on Mai’s page.

[Mai Quote - Teruko]: Some years ago, she was searching for someone named 'Teruko Tawaki.'

Come on. Why’re you so interested in looking for her if not to kiss her on the lips?

-Matching phone charms: We see that Teruko’s monopad has a phone charm in 2-1, which she shares with Unnamed Classmate. Btw, Mai’s profile states she likes phone charms :)

-Matching tattoos?: Mai’s iconic flower tattoo is on her left arm, and Teruko’s left arm has always been conspicuously hidden from us. But from the jacket off reference, it seems there is something important there. And from the only time we’ve ever had even a glimpse of it, it seems like she may be hiding the same tattoo as Mai.

-Dream sequences: Teruko literally dreams of Mai in her 1-6 dream sequence. And her dialogue there couldn’t hold more fondness if it tried.

It's strange I would remember her now, of all times. What was her name again? It's on the tip of my tongue, but I can't remember. Xander always reminded me of that girl. Perhaps that's why I'm thinking about her now. They looked similar, with that same red hair and smile. And... they both wanted to help, didn't they?

-Teruko’s favorite color is red “by association”: Considering Xander stabbed her, I think the association comes from someone else. Imagine loving someone so much they change your favorite color wow.

-Apocalyptic levels of doomed: We’re DRDT fans, we enjoy our yuri when it’s doomed. And the second anniversary art makes the doomed-ness pretty clear.

(I have to remake this collage there's like three pixels on it total lol)

The code translates to “It’s all your fault.” Combined with Mai likely being dead, you can put two and two together that Teruko might blame herself for Mai's demise, or at least she would if she had all her memories. This is doomed as can be.

-This entire MV: Like come on.

Anyways, ship Terumai. Or don’t, I really don’t care about shipping much and you can do what you want forever. This is just so newer fans aren’t hopelessly confused on why these two are together in this MV and seem to be about two seconds from proposing to each other; the basis for them being really good friends, if nothing else, has always been there.

Anyways, the video ends with a curtain closing, because we’ve been interpreting life as a stage to dance upon, so it’s a natural way to close things out. If you wanted a sadder reading, you could take the idea that Teruko ends up seeing her relationship with Mai as a play, an act that would always end eventually, because it was too good to last when taking her luck into account. The yuri is even more doomed than we expected, I fear.

-

And that should be it! What a wonderful MV this was! It’s nice to really get insight into what Teruko and Mai’s relationship looked like, sort of, and I know I’ll personally savor some of these frames forever. Loved it. Happy 5th anniversary everyone, and happy birthday Mai! Thanks for reading! See ya’!

[kenyuukissme]

here, kitty kitty ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ w/ reo mikage

pairing :: reo x gn!reader

warnings :: aged up!characters ; established relationship ; not proofread ; pet names (baby, darling) ; whipped reo ; lots of kisses ; implied eating issues for reader (nothing too descriptive) ; just fluff cus i luv reo <3

wc :: 1498

a heavy exhale parts the cold air, a small smoke-like vapour appearing white in dull grey surroundings. you blow into your hands, to warm their ever dropping temperature. you’re crouched on the side walk, beanie on your head and scarf around your neck. the scarf is loose enough to cover the bottom part of your face, keeping your face warm at every breath.

a weak meow makes the corners of your lips perk up, your winter trembling lips tugging into a smile.

“hey, baby.” you coo, an automatic baby voice coating your words. a little kitten, frail and with thin fur, slowly walks towards you. she takes time, but eventually curls up at your ankle. she’s small enough to slip under your coat.

“aww, two cuties in my view.” a familiar voice teases, approaching you and the kitten. they stop right behind you, but you don’t need to turn around to know just who is flirting with you.

“hey, baby.” you tip your head backwards to look up. to see him. the third cutie, cuteness overload!

he smiles at you, taking in your cold-flushed cheeks and the kitten’s tail peeking out of under your coat. he can tell you’re about to ask something, so he places a gloved finger over your lips and slightly tilts his head in the same, almost animated way, as usual.

“how long have i been here? long enough to know my darling has a soft spot for stray kitties. shall we get them something to eat?” he moves his finger from your lips, using his hands to move you hair behind your ear and under your beanie. he leans down to press a kiss on the tip of your nose.

“yeah. that okay?” you stand up slowly, gently patting the kitten. she’s leans into your touch, a short purr vibrating against your hand and warming your heart.

“of course. i assume you’ve not eaten yet, either?” he takes your hand in his, pressing another kiss to your cheek. you don’t even need to answer, the look on your face guilty.

he softly sighs, shaking his head. “that’s okay, let’s get you some hot chocolate with something to eat, yeah? then we can get something for the kitty.”

you nod, smiling at him. he watches you hesitate, unsure whether you want to leave the kitty on the floor or bring her with you. he can tell you want to stay. but its also important to you that she gets fed. and its important to him that you get fed.

so, he does what anyone in his position would do.

“you stay here, i’ll be back with warm milk for the kitty and a snack for you. sounds good?” he tenderly squeezes you shoulder, watching the way your eyes light up. you nearly jump up for joy, but you can’t.

‘cause the little kitty has curled herself around your ankle.

reo simply smiles. not his usual, deal-confirming and confident smile. not the smile he uses when he has to build a front for himself.

his smile is nothing short of lovesick. it’s really just in love. with you, with how you’re so gentle to a little baby.

he plants a quick kiss on your cheek before running off to a nearby convenience store. you can’t help but laugh a little, he’s so eager for something so sudden. you’re not complaining, though. you love it.

you love him.

and this kitty.

you crouch back down on the side of the path, gently petting her thin fur as she stays curled up around you ankle. not even ten minutes later, reo returns. with a small, shallow bowl, a plastic spoon and two paper cups in hand. he crouches down beside you, placing the shallow bowl on flat ground. he uses the end of his nail to open the drinking tab of the plastic lid.

for a split second, you’re captivated by the warm steam of the hot contents inside the cup. its like the steam is battling the cold air it was met with, as it was let out of the cup. reo carefully tilts the cup down towards the bowl, the open hole closest to the rim. there, warm milk floods the interior of the bowl. the milk is warm enough to drink.

for the little silly who wrapped herself around your ankle.

you put out your hand, letting the kitten crawl into your palm. she’s shivering, not very vigorously but even so, its too visible to miss.

reo puts his hands under yours, guiding you and the shivering baby towards the bowl. you put her down right beside it, using the back of your index finger to gently rub her face. she purrs against the warmth of your finger alone, her eyes closed. you use the back of your finger to guide her face to the rim of the bowl.

reo takes the plastic spoon from earlier, shallowly scooping it in the milk. he carefully holds the spoon just below the kitten’s mouth, watching her clumsily drink it. once she realises its safe to drink, reo places the spoon beside the bowl and lets her drink out the bowl.

you both watch as the kitten takes little licks of the warm milk, every so often tripping over her own paws. you can’t help but giggle a little. she’s just so cute. reo pokes your cheek, snapping you out your kitten-fever.

“your turn.” he smiles as he hands you the second cup. you use your nail to press down the cover on the drinking tab, revealing your drink’s warm steam to the cold air. you take a moment to smell the drink, its sweet. its warm in your hands, the cup is a little too hot but its okay. you blow a little above the hole to cool it down a little, then take a small sip.

warm, hot enough to enjoy it in winter, and cooled down enough to drink. just how you like it. you turn to reo, who is still crouched down beside you. he’s gently petting the kitten as she finished the last of the milk in the bowl.

“yes, love?” he doesn’t need to look at you to know you’re staring. but nonetheless, he doesn’t not wanna look at you! so, his eyes flicker to you once you start talking.

“thank you.” you shuffle a little closer, pressing a slightly wet kiss to his cheek. while its a little gross, he can’t help the way his cheeks flush a little pink. he wants to feign disgust and tease you, but he wants to taste the chocolate on his lips…

oh, freak (affectionate).

you giggle at the way his eyes widen, he’s really too adorable. you gently hold his chin between your thumb and index finger, turning his face to face you. then, you use your free hand to take a sip of your hot chocolate.

“now, now. let’s not—” he puts out his hands in front of him like some guard, as if he didn’t want what you were thinking.

you press a kiss to his lips, comfortably squeezing his cheeks with your thumb and index finger. you pull away and wipe your lips on the back of your sleeve. and take a moment to admire the mess you made of mister reo mikage.

his cheeks are flushed a pink like the kitten’s tongue. and his eyes are as wide as the bowl she’s drinking from. before you can tease him for it, he wraps his arms around your shoulders and leans back. so you end up falling on top of him.

you both stare at eachother for a moment. him pulling you down with him spilt the hot chocolate very close to his face, but he’s laughing. you can’t stay mad, and that’s ‘cause you’re not mad. so you laugh along with him.

it must look crazy to people passing by, a couple on the side path near some empty plot. they’re laying on each other, laughing. and there’s a spilt drink on the floor beside them.

reo holds your face with one hand the same way you held his, and uses his other hand to hold your waist when he pulls you in for another kiss. well. more like, getting the hot — now cold — chocolate back onto your lips. and face.

he kisses all over your face, letting go of your waist and cupping both your cheeks with both his hands. eventually, the chocolate dries and gets sticky on your face. before you can flick the spilt remainder of the drink from the floor on him, you feel something soft brush your ankle.

the kitty.

“can we—” you’re cut off.

“yeah. we can keep her.”

a/n :: raahh delta, this is for you sweetest <3 thanks for being so supportive of me, and good on you for eating. ik this is super late but im so proud of you n i luv you smmm /p!! and erm. new blog reveal from me to u 😓

taglist :: @lakeside-paradise ; @saioratral + open [ask to be added]

likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

© kenyuukissme 2025

{do not copy, translate, steal, modify or repost without permission}

[sissylittlefeather]

So... I had this dream about Elvis.

It's a little blurry and my English isn't perfect, nos, but I can remember the important bits.

I (the reader, of you wanna write about it ;]) was working as Elvis's assistant and practically loved with him. There where some feelings between us and, eventually, we ended up in bed together. The things were getting heated up, he was rubbing himself through his pants and i was grinding against his thigh.. and just when things where going to get good...

I woke up.

Oh, sweet, sweet nonnie. Your fantastic dream sparked a whole thing for me. Please enjoy this fanfic that resulted from this ask:

Return to Sender

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, cussing, dry humping, thigh riding, p in v sex, unprotected sex, ejaculation

Word count: ~3.3k

Also decided to base it loosely on this gif:

You were so nervous in your interview that you actually knocked a cup of something off of his desk. As a result, you were pretty sure you did not get the job. But what you didn't know is that he found your stuttering and fidgeting endearing and when you bent over to clean up the cup you spilled, the view he got of your ass made his decision for him.

That's how you ended up as Elvis Presley's private secretary. It's 1959 and he gets so much fan mail these days that he can't manage it all himself. So, he hires you to help him out. He's pleased when you prove to be useful and supremely impressed when you show him that you can mimic his signature perfectly. Still, his interest in you is far from purely functional.

He's not sure how to go about making his first move, especially since you work for him and he'd hate to lose you. You're really quite effective, so he'll have to play this just right. He doesn't want to offend you and run you off for good.

Instead, he spends a lot of time watching you and smiling at you when you catch him looking. You can't figure out why he keeps looking at you. You're not dumb, not even naive really, but it still seems outside the realm of reality that he might be into you for more than your typing skills.

He tests the waters a little with some flirtation here and there, and you don't seem to turn him down, but you also don't seem to reciprocate. He confuses your nervousness with disinterest and tries to stay focused on the task at hand any time you're together. But as time passes, you get more and more comfortable with each other and eventually a kind of friendship forms between you. It's easy to bond as you laugh about some of the crazy things the girls write to him, but you really start to get close when he begins to talk to you. And not just about the letters. Without meaning to, he tells you about his loneliness, his fears, and how much he misses his mama. You're a good listener and he needs you more than he realizes.

Eventually, you get to the end of his time in the service and know he'll be headed back to the states soon. You're not exactly excited about seeing him go, but there's not much you can do to change it, so you take it in stride.

He's not so resigned, though.

If there's even the slightest chance that you might want him, he's not going to let the opportunity pass him by. The night before all of his big army-ending interviews, he asks you to come over. You assume he needs you to get through some letters or something before he leaves, but he has something else entirely different in mind.

“Hey, honey, thank you for coming over so late.” His voice is quiet, shy almost. The room is dimly lit and there's the faint smell of cigar smoke in the air. He sits in a large armchair, watching you as you stand in the middle of the room. You nod and tell him that you don't mind.

“You have some new letters that you need help with?” He shakes his head sheepishly, shifting uncomfortably in the chair.

“Not really. I just wanted to see ya before I leave.” You blink a few times, confused.

“I'll be there for the interviews tomorrow.” He nods. This is not a surprise, but he wants to talk to you without people around.

“Yeah, but…” He fumbles over the words, trying to say exactly what he feels. The hesitation is heavy in the air between you and it's almost as though the words get caught in his throat when he tries to speak.

“But what, Elvis?” You look down at him and he sighs deeply, drumming his fingers on his knee anxiously. Without warning, he stands up and walks to you, grazing his fingertips over your cheek gently. There's a moment of nothing but being between you and you see the conviction enter his eyes.

“Oh, fuck it.” And then his lips are on yours, soft and needy. At first, you're so shocked that you stand there with your eyes open and his mouth on yours. You can see his eyelashes where they settle on his cheeks and feel him breathing as his chest rises and falls so close to you. He pulls back and notices the look on your face. “No? Was that…?”

“Do it again.” A smile creeps across his face and he leans down and kisses you again. This time your eyes close and you melt into him. The taste of him on your lips is exquisite, something between mint and man, and it feels like you'll never get enough. He deepens the kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth, his hands drifting to your hips as he pulls you in close to him, your bodies flush against each other. You moan softly as his lips move down your jaw to your neck and his hands slips down to grab your ass through your dress.

“I've wanted this forever.” His voice rumbles against your throat. You feel his hardness where he presses it against you, the urgency in his hips becoming more obvious.

“Took you long enough.” A little giggle escapes your lips as his hands continue to roam your body, squeezing you where it pleases him. He takes your breasts in both hands and lets out a small whimper. The need for more of him burns inside of you, manifesting in the ache in your center. His cock is so hard it hurts as he rolls against you, tangling one hand in your hair to hold you still as he dips his tongue into your mouth again. You start to pull at his shirt as he walks you backwards through the house toward his bedroom, one arm wrapped around your waist to keep you as close to him as possible.

You fumble with buttons, fingers trembling in anticipation. All of a sudden, it seems like his shirt has a hundred buttons and you groan in frustration. He pulls back, chuckling and pulls it over his head, dropping it to the floor. In the hallway, he turns your back to him and puts your hands on the wall, dragging his down your back to your hips. The ache between your thighs is quickly becoming unbearable, your body burning up with the intensity of your need. His hands grip your hips as he ruts against you, his erection straining against the fabric of his pants. Then, you feel his lips on the back of your neck as he unzips your dress, pushing it forward off of you to let it pool at your feet. He turns you to face him, eagerly raking his eyes over you hungrily as his tongue darts out to wet his lips. He takes a moment to really appreciate your body in just your underwear and bra.

“What?” You ask playfully, noticing the spellbound look on his face. He shakes his head a little, basking in the scent of your perfume as it mixes with the heat of your body.

“You're even more beautiful than I could've imagined.” He runs his fingertips down the side of your stomach and grips your hip tightly. The last ounce of inhibition leaves you and you grab the back of his neck, pulling his lips back down to yours. Every ounce of him hums with insatiable desire as his soft mouth moves on yours passionately. He pushes your back to the wall and presses his body tightly against yours, his thigh on your center. Without thinking, you start to rub yourself on his thigh, your body begging for friction against your swollen clit. He groans and starts to roll his hips against you. “Goddamn, baby. Don't stop that.”

Your hands slide around to his back as you pick up speed, grinding your clothed pussy on his leg.

“Oh god, Elvis.” A deep moan floats up and out of you as your aching bud reacts to the delicious sensation of his pants.

“Fuck, baby. That's a good girl. Make yourself cum on me.” He grips your hips and helps you rut against him, chasing your orgasm. The wetness seeps through your panties, soaking the fabric under you, but he doesn't care. He wants you to cum, needs you to cum, his hips stuttering against you as you rub on him.

“I'm s-so close.” It's more of a whimper than a sentence, but he gets your meaning. His grasp on your hips is almost bruising as you grind on him faster and harder. The familiar bubbling heat gathers in your lower belly as the sweat drips between your breasts. He captures your lips in a desperate kiss and then mumbles against you.

“Come on, baby. You're right there. Let go.” And then, like your body knew to listen to him, you cum on command, shuddering and trembling as the orgasm rushes through you, sending bolts of pleasure to your extremities. He starts to slow the rolling of your hips as you go floppy against him. “Good girl. So pretty when you cum.”

“Think I might've ruined your pants.” You whisper and he chuckles.

“They'll wash. Can you walk?” You look at him, your eyes hazy with your post-orgasm daze.

“Huh?”

“I'm nowhere near finished with you.” He smirks.

“I'm not sure-” You don't even get the sentence out before he bends down, throwing you over his shoulder. A squeal escapes your lips as he carries you to the bedroom and drops you unceremoniously on the bed. He turns on a small light on the nightstand, casting a kind of orange glow around the room. You look at him standing there, the small patch of hair on his chest, his angelic face, and the small wet spot where his dick has leaked precum onto his pants and continues to stand at full attention. He looks at you spread out on the bed and decides at that moment that he'd give you anything you wanted, even his last name if you asked for it.

“I need you, baby.” He palms himself over his pants and you nod, reaching back to unhook your bra. You slip it down your arms and drop it on the floor, moving to push your panties down your legs. He grunts when your pussy becomes visible, moving his hand on his cock a little faster. When you spread your legs, he bites his bottom lip and moans.

“What are you waiting for?” You coo. His eyes are glued to your glistening pussy as he quickly unbuttons his pants and lets them drop. Your mouth waters a little as his cock bounces free, big and uncut and weeping precum. He climbs on top of you, arranging himself against your entrance and taking one of your legs onto his shoulder.

“You ready for me, honey?” He asks desperately, rubbing his tip through your wet folds. You nod and he groans, slowly pushing into you. The feeling of his dick stretching you out is overwhelmingly good. Finally, he groans, his whole cock buried deep inside you, balls pressed against your ass, as he resists the urge to pound you silly. Your hands clench around the silky sheets and you breathe, trying to adjust to the feeling of him. He looks at you with his eyebrows knit together in concern. “You okay?”

“God, yes.” He smiles down at you and pulls his hips back, sliding his now-wet cock out of you and then rolling them forward again, plunging himself into you. Your eyes roll back and you moan loudly as he starts to pick up a steady rhythm of slamming against you. He kisses your ankle gently and fucks into you over and over again. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room as the scent of your sex hangs in the air. Your breasts bounce with every thrust and he grunts, his release gathering in his balls. The headboard starts to bang against the wall and the little light on the nightstand rocks with the force of your lovemaking.

“Fuck, baby. You feel so good. Such a tight little pussy.” His hair is sweaty on his forehead and you revel in the smell of him as he wraps your leg around his hip and leans down to kiss you, his cock sliding in and out of you. In doing so, he shifts the angle a little and begins to rub against your g-spot. Now, you whimper and moan with every movement of his hips, clawing at his back as he pounds you. You devolve into just a body, soaking in each sensation: skin pressed together, sticky and wet, his tongue in your mouth, insistent and deep, and his cock filling your pussy up again and again. He does the same, sinking into the waves of pleasure, your tight heat wrapped around his dick, squeezing him just right. Everything is sensual as you mix together and quickly lose track of whose sweat is whose.

“Elvisssss…” You whine, another climax crashing into you and burning you up from the inside out. He moans with the feeling of your pussy tightening around him.

“Fuck, baby, I'm gonna cum. Fuck. Gonna… oh fuck!” He pulls out of you at the very last possible second, shooting cum all over the inside of your thighs. His cock throbs and pulses and he collapses on top of you, sticky ropes pumping out of him onto your legs. When he finally finishes, he groans loudly and picks up his head, kissing your lips softly. You giggle and push his hair back off his forehead. He chuckles. “I made a mess.”

“Yes, you did. But I helped.” He laughs and kisses you again.

“Yeah, I'm gonna blame this one on you.” You giggle as he rolls off of you and fetches a washcloth from the bathroom to clean you up. When he's done, he crawls back into bed and pulls you onto his chest. “Stay with me?”

You look up into his eyes and it's obvious he doesn't want to be alone tonight. Honestly, you wouldn't leave him even if you could.

“Of course.” He smiles and nuzzles into your hair. You settle in to sleep with him wrapped around you.

***

When you wake up the next morning, he's already dressed in his full uniform. He moves around the room quietly, but he notices when you stir and smiles softly.

“Hey, baby.” You lift your head up and yawn, stretching.

“You're leaving?” He nods and then sits down on the bed to put his shoes on.

“Yeah, I have those interviews. You comin’?” Again, it's clear that he wants you there, so you nod back.

“Oh yeah. I just have to run home and get dressed, but I'll be there.”

“Good.” He leans in and kisses your forehead before standing up. You're still naked from your activities last night and he looks down at you hungrily. He pulls the covers down a little so that he can see your body. “Goddamnit. I hate to leave ya.”

You're not sure if he's talking about this morning or forever. You reach out and take his hand, kissing it gently and then placing it on your breast.

“Fuck.” He climbs into bed in his uniform and pulls you onto him, kissing you deeply and running his hands all over your body.

“Thought you had to go?” You ask between kisses. He groans and buries his face in your neck. The sweet scent of your sweat and sex lingers on your skin and he breathes it in, trying to commit everything about you to memory. He mumbles into your hair.

“Yeah, I do. Just wish I could keep you naked in my bed forever.” For a few more seconds, you just hold each other, trying not to think about the future. Then, he pulls away from you and gets out of bed. “I'll see you at the interviews.”

He turns and leaves before he can get back into the bed and stays there until he dies. You sigh and get up, gathering your things and getting dressed. Something is missing, though. You cannot find your panties anywhere. Sighing again, you check your watch. You don't have time to keep looking. At least he'll have something to remember you by.

******

At the interviews, you stand behind him sipping your coffee and watching. The press are snapping photos like crazy and the flash bulbs are almost giving you a headache. You wonder how he stands it. The room is filled with noise and people, but you can't take your eyes off of him. He looks better than he ever has before, but maybe that's because you've seen him naked and know how beautiful he is without clothes. Your eyes drift down a little and you think about what's hiding under his pants, rubbing your thighs together. And that's when you see them: your panties, just barely peeking out of his pocket.

Your mouth pops open, but you shut it quickly. That little shit. He stole your panties! And he has them with him!

You grab a pen and a scrap of paper and scribble out a note. Motivated by his boldness, you walk up behind him and then lean forward, slipping the note into his jacket. He looks up and realizes it's you, his heart stopping in his chest. Still, he plays it off for the press and keeps going.

However, the second he's able, he pulls out the note and reads it eagerly.

You thief. I see what you stole and I want them back! Call me before you leave.

He grins widely, kisses the note, and folds it up, adding it to the pocket where your panties are. His intention was only to keep them, but now his blood is pumping with the possibility of seeing you again. A thought hits him and he sits with it for a bit. By the time he gets home, he's determined to make it a reality. He picks up the phone and dials your number.

“Hello?”

“I'm not givin’ em back.” Your face breaks into a smile.

“You better!” He chuckles.

“Alright, you can have ‘em. BUT-” He pauses for effect and you just about die with anticipation. You hear him take a deep, steadying breath before he continues. “You have to come get them in Memphis.”

Your mouth drops in shock. You're not sure what you were expecting, but it wasn't that.

“In Memphis?”

“Yes. Come home with me.” His heart is in his throat as he waits for your response. He twists the phone cord around his finger and bites his lip. If only he could see your face. The suspense is killing him.

“Okay.” What else could you say?

“Okay?” He asks excitedly, standing up with the phone.

“Yes.” Your heart is racing, but there's nothing that important keeping you here. Not if he's asking you.

He does a silent fist pump and thanks God that you said yes.

“I'll come get you on my way to the airport. Pack to stay for a while. Like, forever.”

“Elvis…”

“Listen, baby. It took me a long time to find you. I'm not lettin’ you get away anytime soon. You gonna argue?” You think for a second about what you're agreeing to and then decide to take a leap of faith.

“Not at all.”

“Good. And baby?”

“Yeah?” He hesitates for a second, his nerves getting the better of him. Then, he just says it, unable to keep the words from tumbling out.

“I love you.” Your heart stops.

“I love you too, Elvis.”

******

The End

Taglist:

@ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley @searchingforgravity @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @polksaladava @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @theelvisprincess @makethemorning @peaceloveelvis @mrspresley69 @pxpresley @kxnnxy @angelriley222

[avayarising]

No but let’s talk about the whole Apokalips thing in Our Worlds At War. Young Justice 1:35–37, Superboy 1:91, Impulse 1:89.

Kon really, really screwed up. His impulsive and insubordinate actions, expressly against Robin’s orders and in full opposition to the rescue mission they were engaged on, led directly to:

the permanent death of one team member (Slobo is not Lil Lobo even if he does have his memories, and neither are any of the other regenerated Lobos, most of whom also die; original Lobo remains dead)

the partial death of another (Bart is in a coma for over a week after experiencing the death of his speedforce duplicate)

the start of Greta’s corruption arc via Darkseid

and the torture and thorough traumatisation of the rest of team (they are held in VR worlds where they are forced to live through the deaths of their loved ones and their own deaths, repeatedly).

Tim leaves Young Justice over this. Bart stops being a hero altogether for a while.

And we never see Kon apologise.

Okay so yes he acknowledges to himself he is entirely at fault for this. He spends a whole issue agonising over what he’s done and yes, he resolves to apologise to Robin.

But he never does. He gets distracted by some fallout from the war and by Joker’s Last Laugh. Tim gets involved again in World Without Young Justice, when reality has been altered and none of them are who they should be.

And then after that, Tim, who is relieved that his identity has been revealed (something he wanted to do long ago) in a way that he couldn’t control or be blamed for, asks to rejoin the team.

And.

Kon and Cassie do this:

(I’m not blaming Snapper, Ray, or Slobo, none of whom were there when this went down even if Slobo does have the memories of it. They are just following Kon and Cassie’s cues.)

And Tim reacts like this:

Which is not the reaction of someone who has already received a heartfelt apology.

And yes, then they hug and welcome Tim back into the team. But I think Tim ends up fully internalising that his leadership (and his refusal to share his identity, like they have any right to it) is to blame for the whole debacle. And Kon lets him go on thinking that.