#garbage fire of a state
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mitsdriveswhere · 10 months ago
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rebelbagel · 2 years ago
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Thank you Pinterest, I'm now deceased.
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empty-blog-for-lurking · 1 year ago
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I think it is genuinely really funny that of all the Lance's from my different aus, the most chill one out of all of them is the one who got violently murdered and came back as an unperceivable eldritch horror whose first act after coming back was vengence on the guy who killed him and then steal his house.
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publicuniversalenemy · 2 years ago
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i have obtained a SIGNIFICANT and POTENTIALLY CARCINOGENIC BIOHAZARD and im BEYOND EXCITED ABOUT THIS
#the bhiohazard in question? a couple of nastyass turnouts!!!! a jacket and some pants!!!!!#yeah theyre sitting abt three feet away from me but dw!!! theyre in a big garbage bag so its ok ^-^#basically the EMT program (that im almost done with. as a side note but woot woot) is selling their old student ambulances#since theyre a bitch to maintain and we have a newer indoors simulator (its like. the back of an ambulace built into a room)#(like the back and one of the sides are open and it doesnt have a drivers compartment (duh) and no tires but is otherwise a Real Ambulance#which we use for practicing)#anyways so these old student ambulances gotta get cleaned out before they can be sold yeah?#and as it HAPPENS!! theyve been storing a SHIT TON of nasty filthy smelly turnouts in there for the past While#like probably 12-16 Large garbage bags full#(for those who dont know: turnouts are what those fucking. firefighter uniforms are called. like the ones they wear In Fires)#and they dont know what to do with them so theyre gonna get thrown away next week#so my TEACHER!!! was like 'yall if anyone Wants any of that shit you can literally just help urself'#so i went down today and poked thru some bags and GOT STUFFS!!!#anyways i am excited not only bc Turnouts Cool but ALSO bc theyre Super Fucking Insulated#bc theyre meant to be worn inside Massive and Super Hot fires#which yeah protects u from extreme heat but my GENUOS BRAIN also realized this: they would be STUPID COZY in cold weather#and i happen to be moving to a rather cold part of the states in a few months!!!!#so now i have free winter gear and its EXTRA SEXY STYLE#however u CANNOT clean turnouts at home bc#a) they gotta be washed with Extra Strong Industrial Fucking Machines#(called 'extractors' not 'washing machines')#and b)#they can and WILL leech nasty fucking toxins from structural fires into your machine and contaminate everything forever <3#so ive reached out to some 'send away' turnout laundry services#idk if theyre gonna do it tho cuz um. im Not associated with a fire department <3#so if that fails ill just do the best i can at home!!! <- research mode Engaged#either way theyre sexy and Yes i can still smell them despite them being bagged in a Super Rugged Industrial Manly Garbage Bag#(i didnt tie it super tight)#btu thats ok whats life without Danger <3#whatever the fuck
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suffarustuffaru · 2 years ago
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unfinished genderbend au things from a while ago…. yes i called gluttonybaru a bitch 😳😳😳😳 i explain the design choices in the tags…
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laurelwinchester · 1 year ago
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Is it just me or has the spn fandom gotten even worse over the past few months? There's an influx of people shipping Dean with (wait for it) John (puke) and a bunch of new J2 and Cockles tinhats and I feel like every post I read is delusional and talking about a show that didn't even exist.
i'm about to ruin your day but all of this is extremely normal for the spn fandom.
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ghwosty · 1 year ago
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I am unfortunately back in Florida
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butch-muppet · 6 months ago
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🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃
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airwavesdotblog · 9 months ago
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Fall Out Boy Lyrics “We Didn’t Start The Fire (Bonus Track)”
Artist: Fall Out Boy Album: So Much (for) Stardust (2023) Captain Planet, Arab Spring, L.A. riots, Rodney KingDeep fakes, earthquakes, Iceland volcanoOklahoma City bomb, Kurt Cobain, PokémonTiger Woods, MySpace, Monsanto, GMOs Harry Potter, Twilight, Michael Jackson diesNuclear accident, Fukushima, JapanCrimean Peninsula, Cambridge AnalyticaKim Jong Un, Robert Downey Jr., Iron Man We didn’t…
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something something the Sheer Unimaginable Irony of seeing my studies of folklore as Dean Winchester RP-adjacent/ "hunting", getting accepted to present on SPN & Beowulf at a major conference, anticipating the presentation as though it were a rly important hunt, getting kinfeels from it for three months and then, the week before the conference, massively injuring my mid-lower back*.
I can still go to the con, I'm just in a good amount of pain but also this is kind of hilarious actually.
*tldr the prof said "these are very heavy, so lift in groups or ask for my help" and I went "ok im gonna deadlift it".
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mostlysignssomeportents · 2 months ago
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The far right grows through “disaster fantasies”
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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/2024/11/25/mall-ninja-prophecy/#mano-a-mano">https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/25/mall-ninja-prophecy/#mano-a-mano
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The core of the prepper fantasy: "What if the world ended in the precise way that made me the most important person?" The ultra-rich fantasize about emerging from luxury bunkers with an army of mercs and thumbdrives full of bitcoin to a world in ruins that they restructure using their "leadership skills."
The ethnographer Rich Miller spent his career embedding with preppers, eventually writing the canonical book of the fantasies that power their obsessions, Dancing at Armageddon: Survivalism and Chaos in Modern Times:
https://www.press.uchicago.edu/ucp/books/book/chicago/D/bo3637295.html
Miller recounts how the disasters that preppers prepare for are the disasters that will call upon their skills, like the water chemist who's devoted his life to preparing to help his community recover from a terrorist attack on its water supply; and who, when pressed, has no theory as to why any terrorist would stage such an attack:
https://pluralistic.net/2020/03/22/preppers-are-larpers/#preppers-unprepared
Prepping is what happens when you are consumed by the fantasy of a terrible omnicrisis that you can solve, personally. It's an individualistic fantasy, and that makes it inherently neoliberal. Neoliberalism's mind-zap is to convince us all that our only role in society is as an individual ("There is no such thing as society" – M. Thatcher). If we have a workplace problem, we must bargain with our bosses, and if we lose, our choices are to quit or eat shit. Under no circumstances should we solve labor disputes through a union, especially not one that wins strong legal protections for workers and then holds the government's feet to the fire.
Same with bad corporate conduct: getting ripped off? Caveat emptor! Vote with your wallet and take your business elsewhere. Elections are slow and politics are boring. But "vote with your wallet" turns retail therapy into a form of civics.
This individualistic approach to problem solving does useful work for powerful people, because it keeps the rest of us thoroughly powerless. Voting with your wallet is casting a ballot in a rigged election that's always won by the people with the thickest wallets, and statistically, that's never you. That's why the right is so obsessed with removing barriers to election spending: the wealthy can't win a one-person/one-vote election (to be in the 1% is to be outnumbered 99:1), but unlimited campaign spending lets the wealthy vote in real elections using their wallets, not just just ballots.
You can't recycle your way out of the climate emergency. Practically speaking, you can't even recycle. All those plastics you lovingly washed and sorted ended up in a landfill or floating in the ocean. Plastics recycling is a hoax perpetrated by the petrochemical industry, who knew all along that their products would never be recycled. These despoilers convinced us to view the systemic rot of corporate ecocide as an individual matter, chiding us about "littering" and exhorting us to sort our garbage:
https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/14/they-knew/#doing-it-again
We are bombarded by real problems that require urgent solutions that can only be resolved through collective action, which we are told is impossible. This is an objectively frightening state of affairs, and it makes people go nuts.
At the start of this century, in the weeks before 9/11, a message-board poster calling himself Gecko45 went Web 1.0 viral by earnestly bullshitting about his job as a mall security guard, doing battle with heavily armed gangs, human traffickers, and ravening monsters. Gecko45's posts were unhinged: he started out seeking advice for doubling up on body-armor to protect him while he deployed his smoke bombs and his partner assembled a high-powered rifle. Though Gecko45 was apparently sincere, he drew tongue-in-cheek replies from the other posters on GlockTalk, who soon dubbed him the "Mall Ninja":
https://lonelymachines.org/mall-ninjas/
The Mall Ninja professed to patrolling a suburban shopping mall while armed with 15 firearms as he carried out his duties as "Sergeant of a three-man Rapid Tactical Force at one of America’s largest indoor retail shopping areas." His qualifications? Mastery "of three martial arts including ninjitsu, which means I can wear the special boots to climb walls."
The Mall Ninja's fantasy of a single brave individual, defending the sleepy populace from violent, armed mobs is instantly recognizable as an ancestor to today's right wing fantasy of America's cities as "no-go zones" filled with "open air drug markets," patrolled by MS-13 and antifa super-soldiers. And while the Mall Ninja drew derision – even from the kinds of people who hang out on a message board called "GlockTalk" – today, his brand of fantasy wins elections.
On Jacobin, Olly Haynes interviews the political writer Richard Seymour about this phenomenon:
https://jacobin.com/2024/11/disaster-nationalism-fantasies-far-right/
Seymour's latest book is Disaster Nationalism:The Downfall of Liberal Civilization, an exploration of the strange obsessions of the right with imaginary disasters in the midst of real ones:
https://www.versobooks.com/en-gb/products/3147-disaster-nationalism
You know these imaginary disasters: "FEMA death camps, 'great replacement theory,' the 'Great Reset,' fifteen-minute cities, 5G towers being beacons of mind control, and microchips installed in people through vaccines." As Seymour writes, these conspiracy fantasies are proliferated by authoritarian regimes and their supporters, especially as real disasters rage around them.
For example, during the Oregon wildfires, people who were threatened by blazing forests that hit 800'C refused to evacuate because they'd been convinced that the fires were set by antifa arsonists in a bid to "wipe out white conservative Christians." They barricaded themselves in their fire-threatened homes, brandishing guns and prepping for the antifa mob.
Seymour says that this "disaster nationalism" "processes disaster in a way that is actually quite enlivening." Confronted with the helplessness of a real disaster that can only be solved through the collective action you've been told is both impossible and a Communist plot, you retreat to an individualistic disaster fantasy that you can play an outsized role in. Every crisis – the climate emergency, poverty, a toxic environment – is replaced by "bad people" and you can go get them.
For authoritarian politicians, a world of bad people at the gates who can only be stopped by "the good guys" makes for great politics. It impels proto-fascist movements to electoral victories, all over the world: in the US, of course, but Seymour also analyzes this as the phenomenon behind the electoral victories of authoritarian ethno-nationalists in India, Israel, Brazil, and all over the world.
I find Seymour's analysis bracing and clarifying. It explains the right's tendency to obsess over the imaginary at the expense of the real. Think of conservatives' obsession with imaginary and hypothetical children, from Qanon's child trafficking conspiracies to the forced birth movement's fixation on "the unborn."
It's not just that these kids don't exist – it's that the right is either indifferent or actively hostile to real children. Qanon peaked at the same time as Trump's "kids in cages" family separation policy, which saw thousands of kids separated from their parents, many forever, as a deliberate policy.
The forced birth movement spent decades fighting to overturn Roe in the name of saving "the unborn" – even as its leaders were also overturning the Child Tax Credit, the most successful child poverty alleviation measure in American history. Actual children were left to sink into food insecurity and precarity, to be enlisted to work overnight shifts in meat-packing plants, to fall into homelessness – even as the movement celebrated the "culture of life" that would rescue hypothetical children.
Lifting kids out of poverty and building a world where parents can afford to raise as many children as they care to have is a collective endeavor. Firebombing abortion clinics or storming into a pizza parlor with an assault rifle is an individual rescue fantasy that escapes into the world.
Mall Ninja politics are winning.
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dragongirlsnout · 1 year ago
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Go Badge-Free: Tumblr is a multimillion dollar company that doesn't need your loyalty!
Some users ("many" by Tumblr's own unsourced metrics) might want to support Tumblr with something similar to regular donations. Great news! You don't need to, it's a multimillion dollar company, and its parent company, Automattic, was valued at around 7.5 billion dollars in 2021 as stated by none other than Tumblr's Elon-Musk-wannabe CEO himself! Tumblr isn't going to go broke any time soon, and any money you waste on it will just convince staff that the garbage fire they're currently tossing the site into is profitable!
Enter the power of not giving a fuck about useless badges and shitty merch of stolen memes. Everyone with a brain knows auto-renewable subscriptions aren't the way to a "user-led business model", and again, you don't need to show your support for a massive multimedia platform despite whatever their embarrassing ad campaigns that just want money may tell you!
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How it works—or doesn't:
Tumblr doesn't care about the users, whether you're giving them money for nothing or not! So take the initiative yourself. Send them negative feedback about the pointless UI updates. Give Tumblr a 1-star rating on the app store or play store. Disable your badges. Block intrusive ads (and potentially dangerous flashing ones). Style the dashboard to look less like a 1 : 1 clone of Twitter. Install additions to fix basic site functionality.
Seriously, who is buying subscriptions besides staff:
The subscription badges do nothing. Nada. Zero. That is, unless staff decides to lock basic functionality behind a subscription in the future, so make so to make it flop before then.
Pricing:
A year's subscription for a useless cosmetic badge costs you $30 USD. Cheaper than Twitter Blue, sure, but it sure does a whole lot less! Meanwhile, fixing your own user experience and complaining to staff is permanently on sale for the low, low price of free. Spend your money on a nice treat instead!
More details:
I don't know how else to put it. This subscription service sucks ass.
That's all for now. No idea who exactly would buy a badge subscription of all things in the first place that staff probably designed in 5 minutes. Maybe someday Tumblr's will figure out how to interpret actual human behavior and user desires, but that day has yet to come. Stay weird, and Tumblr is not your quirky friendly hellsite company <3
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mariacallous · 3 months ago
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This is a gift article
In the final week of this election season, the Republican Party is running two different campaigns. One of them is an ugly and angry but conventional political enterprise. Donald Trump and other Republicans make speeches; party operatives seek to get out the vote; money is spent in swing states; television and radio advertisements proliferate. The people running that campaign are focused on winning the election.
Last night, in New York City’s Madison Square Garden, we caught a glimpse of the other campaign. This is the campaign that is psychologically preparing Americans for an assault on the electoral system, a second January 6, if Trump doesn’t win—or else an assault on the political system and the rule of law if he does. Listen carefully to the words of Tucker Carlson, the pundit fired from Fox News partly for his role in lying about the 2020 election. Warming up the crowd for Trump, he mocked the very idea that Kamala Harris could win: “It’s going to be pretty hard to look at us and say, ‘You know what? Kamala Harris, she got 85 million votes because she’s so impressive as the first Samoan Malaysian, low-I.Q., former California prosecutor ever to be elected president.”
“Samoan Malaysian” was Carlson’s way of mocking Harris’s mixed-race background, and “low-IQ” is self-explanatory—but “85 million” is a number of votes she could in fact win. And how, Carlson suggested, could there be such a “groundswell of popular support” for a person he demeaned as a mongrel, an incompetent, an idiot? The answer was clear: There can’t be, and if anyone says it happened, then we will contest it.
All of this is part of the game: the Trump campaign’s loud confidence, despite dead-even polls; its decision, in the final days, to take the candidate outside the swing states to New York, New Mexico, and Virginia, because we’ve got this in the bag (and not, say, because filling arenas in Pennsylvania is getting harder); the hyping of Republican-early-voter numbers, even though no evidence indicates that these are new voters, just people who are no longer being discouraged from voting early. Also the multiple attempts, across the country, to remove large numbers of people from the rolls; the many claims, with no justification, that “illegal immigrants” are voting or even, as Trump implied during the September debate, that illegal immigrants are being deliberately imported into the country in order to vote; Vance’s declaration that he will accept the election results as long as “only legal American citizens” vote.
At Madison Square Garden, Trump doubled down on that rhetoric. He repeated past claims about the “invasion” of immigrants; about “Venezuelan gangs” occupying American cities, even Times Square; and he offered an instant solution: “On day one, I will launch the largest deportation program in American history to get these criminals out. I will rescue every city and town that has been invaded and conquered, and we will put these vicious and bloodthirsty criminals in jail.” But he left open the question of who exactly all these “criminals” might be, because he seemed to be talking about not just immigrants but also his political opponents, “the enemy within.” The United States, he said, “is now an occupied country, but it will soon be an occupied country no longer … November 5, 2024, nine days from now, will be Liberation Day in America.”
The insults we heard from many speakers at Madison Square Garden, including the description of Puerto Rico as “garbage” or of Harris as “the anti-Christ” or of Hillary Clinton as a “sick son of a bitch”—insults that can also be heard in a thousand podcast episodes featuring Carlson, Elon Musk, J. D. Vance, and their ilk—are part of the same effort. Trump’s electorate is being primed to equate his political opposition with infection, pollution, and demonic power, and to accept violence and chaos as a legitimate, necessary response to these primal, lethal threats.
As I wrote earlier this month, this kind of language, imported from the 1930s, has never before been part of mainstream American presidential politics, because no other political candidate in modern history has used an election to undermine the legal basis of the American political system. But if we are an occupied country, then Joe Biden is not the legitimately elected president of the United States. If we are an occupied country, then the American government is not a set of institutions established over centuries by Congress, but rather a sinister cabal that must be dismantled at any price. If we are an occupied country, then of course the Trump administration can break the law, commit acts of violence, or even trash the Constitution in order to “liberate” Americans, either after Trump has lost the election or after he has won it.
This kind of language is not being used accidentally or incidentally. It is not a joke, even when used by professional comedians. These insults are central to Trump’s message, which is why they were featured at a venue he reveres. They are also classic authoritarian tactics that have worked before, not only in the 1930s but also in places such as modern Venezuela and modern Russia, countries where the public was also prepared over many years to accept lawlessness and violence from the state. The same tactics are working in the United States right now. Election workers, whose job is to carry out the will of the voters, are already the subject of violent threats and harassment. At least two ballot boxes have been attacked.
The natural human instinct is to dismiss, ignore, or downplay these kinds of threats. But that’s the point: You are meant to accept this language and behavior, to consider this kind of rhetoric “baked in” to any Trump campaign. You are supposed to just get used to the idea that Trump wishes he had “Hitler’s generals” or that he uses the Stalinist phrase “enemies of the people” to describe his opponents. Because once you think that’s normal, then you’ll accept the next step. Even when that next step is an assault on democracy and the rule of law.
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thewertsearch · 1 month ago
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JADESPRITE: whats happening? DAVESPRITE: reckoning […] DAVESPRITE: the battlefield will probably be wiped out soon JADESPRITE: can we do something to stop it? DAVESPRITE: would there be a point
And I thought Aradia was defeatist.
This is incredibly sad to read. I remember how hyped I was when Davesprite first joined the team - I thought we'd gained a fifth Player, and that Dave had found a brother he could actually bond with.
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In the end, though, Future Dave proved too traumatized to really bond with his co-Players. He drifted around LOHAC for a while, and then just floated about the Medium in what was probably a depressive fugue state.
Given time, he might be able to heal from what his timeline did to him - but right now, I'm getting increasingly worried that he doesn't have that time.
JADESPRITE: i felt like i was drawn to come here when i wasnt sure where to go DAVESPRITE: yeah me too
I really don’t like the implications of that.
Is this how the game garbage-collects used Sprites, then? Once the Reckoning is coming to an end, are they simply summoned to the Battlefield, to go down with their session?
Very cool, Sburb! What a generous reward your Sprites earn, for dutifully serving their Players to the end!
JADESPRITE: the meteors JADESPRITE: and all the fire… JADESPRITE: it reminds me of when i died JADESPRITE: and i was trying to wake john up JADESPRITE: i was scared then too JADESPRITE: but i didnt let the fear stop me from trying to save him DAVESPRITE: what would you want to do DAVESPRITE: if you werent scared
Jadesprite's a true-blue god, and I still don't think we've scratched the surface of what First Guardians can really do. As soon as she stops being afraid, everyone else should be a little afraid of her.
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metranart · 5 months ago
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“I must admit you picked a pretty one, real pretty girl—” Dabi's grin only grew as Hawks’s scowl deepened. “—Let me know more about your new pet, Keigo. I usually can’t shut you up,” he smirked, reaping some humor from the nasty situation. 
ft. Hawks centered, Hawks x reader, Slight! Bakugo x reader, Slight! Dabi x reader (in future chaps)
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Hawks x UA Student! Reader (Part 12)
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Warning tag: obsessed! Hawks, possessive! Hawks, naive! student reader, violation of trust, dubious consent, mating cycles, rut response, obsessive behavior, uncontrollable thirst for reader, manipulation, forced, thigh riding, hormonal minds out of control, sexual content, first time, cock riding, teenage fuck, Dabi's toxically interested in you, Bakugo bestie yet secretly inlove wit you, love confessions, cock-drunk, Hawks trying to be good but failing miserably, gaslighting, HEAVY plot, lots of smut.
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“She doesn’t seem particularly special,” The leader of the League of Villains had hissed. Red, bloodshot eyes set on the wicked set of photos provided by Dabi, even though he wanted to look particularly uninterested in the material, he couldn’t stop flipping through each photo over, and over again. 
“Don´t tell me,” Mr. Compress peeked from behind Shigaraki’s shoulder to have a glimpse at the material, “—does Hawks have some kind of fucked-up crush on her?”
Dabi merely smirked, shrugging his shoulders. “Don´t know, don´t care.” 
Dabi was Hawks’ contact with the league, since he had introduced him to the group with some ‘I wanna change sides bullshit’, -which no one really believed. 
Since that day, the fire-bender used to tail the winged hero to keep an eye on him, what was his surprise when he found him raping you in a dark alley, after no less than having saved you of a Nomu, earlier that same day.  
His cellphone wasn’t the best but the photos he took were quality, clear and concise. 
Dabi didn’t even have to worry about being found out since Hawks was so smitten by you— Dabi could have been sitting on a garbage can across, and he wouldn’t have noticed.
So, he printed a few copies of this magnificent evidence against the prominent hero and went down to business. 
Shigaraki finally finished browsing the pictures, to glance up at him. 
“If you don’t care—why are you showing us these?” he fanned the photos on his hand. “Do you get off like this, you, sick staple-face?” The silver-haired leader wondered, knowing that Dabi’s actions always had a second agenda.
“What I get off with isn’t your business, crusty. But I thought it would be proof enough to trust the heroic birdie’s change of sides.” He shared, calmly. Uncrossing his arms from his chest to fish his hands inside his pockets, lazily leaning against the nearest wall.  
That had caught Shigaraki’s attention. 
“It could have been consensual….” The silver-haired suggested, holding in his hand a photo where Hawks was devouring your mouth while nailing you against the cold concrete of the wall – your little hands grabbing at his shoulders for sweet support while his held you up by the hips, way too greedily, you looked cock-drunk. 
Turning it around, showed it to the rest for a more unanimous opinion.
“She’s so pretty, like a cute little doll~” Toga shared dreamily, slowly leaning closer to snatch the photo from Shigaraki who effortlessly dodged her.
“Oh! That’s not correct, they are in public, how naughty! I can’t see…” Twice looked away to immediately spin around and look back to the photo, “if they did it like that, it’s because they like to be seen… Hawks is such a dog…” his other personality kicked in, starting a hilarious fight which, everyone ignored, except for toga who constantly giggled.
“The girl looks way too naïve to be doing that consensually,” Spinner judged without giving the photo a second look, his sense of justice feeling sickened by the fake winged hero’s actions.  
“-And on top of that, she looks way too young…. probably closer to Toga’s age, don’tcha agree?” Mr. Compress stated, fascinated by the lewd images.
They could probably sell them and aside from making some good money, they would dismantle the reputation of Hawks, Mr. Number Two Hero in the country. But why would they want to do that to a possible fellow villain?  
He couldn’t help but be… intrigued.
“I say we let him into the league, this…” Mr. Compress tapped at the photo with his finger, “is a despicable act of rampant carnality against a minor, and consensual or not, it’s still a crime.” 
Dabi agreed by nodding his head once. 
“Looks like it~” Toga agreed as well and soon Twice did too. “That little birdy is a bad birdy.”
Spinner grunted an affirmation, and Shigaraki sighed annoyed before announcing. “We’ll give him a chance, now he can join our meetings and some plans…. But he’s not part of the League yet, he’s on trial.”
Everyone agreed, and Shigaraki glanced at warp user who calmly approached. 
“Kurogiri, do me a favor and inform Hawks of our decision— and personally deliver these to him,” he handed over the photos and before releasing them, said, “Tell him it’s our warm welcome gift to the League of Villains.”
Kurogiri nodded, to then disappear in the back. 
Shigaraki scratched at his neck staring at Dabi. “You are still his contact, charred face. As your oldest acquaintance as you presented him…. -If ends up betraying us, you alone must kill him.”
Dabi entertained Shigaraki’s lofty order with sadistic patience before untroubled replied a short. 
“Noted.”
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Meanwhile, Hawks was a mess, a beating uncomfortable mess. 
Slowly his wounds were healing, even though the encounter with Dabi had been a couple of days ago. Although he still paraded with a broken lip, traces of burns on his clavicle, torso and arms. His hero suit far from salvable, all scorched and stained with dried cum, —even part of his eyebrow had turned to ashes, not to mention, how affected his wings were, he was barely able to fly.
The blond sighed, tiredly.
Having to sneak through the window of his own agency so as not to arouse suspicion among his subordinates was beginning to bother him...... —he shouldn't have gotten carried away, he knew Dabi only wanted to annoy him, enflame his blood just out of sadistic entertainment.... Yet, he was stupid enough to allow him. 
In the last couple of days, instead of patrolling he had been sitting in his office, wasting precious time just analyzing every little detail of what had transpired between you and him…. how his rut ​​had gotten out of control thanks to your quirk. 
Whatever your fucking quirk was had a ridiculous effect on his instinctual responsiveness. Everything had felt good—fucking amazing, mind-blowing, life-changing—though right now, sober and away from your numbing effect, Keigo couldn’t decide if was just your quirk deluding him into thinking your pussy was the best he’d ever had, or if it really was. 
NO! Deep inside he knew it, YOU really were just that fucking incredible. 
His instincts didn’t lie. Actually, it was taking him a monumental effort not to fly to the UA dorms and snatch you away, back to him, safe by his side. 
It’s only been three days away from you and he was already feeling hopeless. Hawk’s mind wandered back to you... and to that stupid ‘welcome gift’. 
Once again, the League of Villains gift greeted him from his desk, without a doubt, this little bastard had been the catalyst for the fight with the fire-user.
Those damn photos that laid scattered all over, screaming his crude crime at him. Mocking and equally enticing for someone as warm-blooded as Hawks. Those damn photos were grotesque, heartbreakingly brutal to his psyche, raw evidence of his brutal attack against you… he hated them— but hated even more how much he had already used them to jack himself off. 
Normally, he would have managed to tame his libido with practiced control—just his imagination to enjoy the ride. But shit it was not fucking working. 
So, just to gauge the obvious upper hand the League of Villains held on him, he thought of scrutinize the photos. He needed to analyze the evidence, yet each printed scene was brought back to life in his mind…
Your pussy gripping him so gloriously, calling him home— that tight, lovely look on your face as you buried yourself onto his lap, taking him fully in one go was fucking thrilling. 
His breath shuddered, as his patience thinned in a matter of seconds. Not even taking himself out, started to stroke himself hard and fast, nose pressed into the poor remaining of his old hero jacket, he breathed in what still lingered of your sweet scent between the fibers.
“Baby bird~” He called brokenly. “Y/N…” His eyes closed at the thought of you. 
You were so smart and funny; it skyrocketed his excitement. The thrill of having another duel of wittiness almost made him cum on the spot. 
Not to mention how well you were fit together, those perfect tits he loved to see bouncing while he breed you… your perfect ass, which look much nicer with his handprint swelling onto the skin, and your pussy—fuck, he could almost replay how tight it felt around him, how viciously grip him and milk every last fucking drop of his cum straight into your fertile womb—making him wonder perhaps, he was already a dad. 
He wouldn’t mind, the commission will deal with the public eye, as he dealt with you and his chicks. 
The mere vision of you all swelled and round with his baby ended up doing it for him. He came, hard! in thick, hot spurts, all over the photos…. ropey, white streaks now decorating each single piece of evidence. 
“Fuck,” he panted, chest heaving, limbs trembling. If he hadn’t been sitting down, his quivering knees would have failed him.  
Never has he ever spilled himself so wonderfully just by his own hand. You had him really stupefied, he idolized you, now you were his everything.
Goddamn it, he thought glaring at the stained pictures of him fucking into you. I have to add hypocrite to the list... that thought came almost automatically. He had almost maimed Dabi days ago for doing the same thing he had just done.
-
After receiving the envelope with photos, Kurogiri had disappeared into the blackness of the night leaving behind a frantic, inflamed and choleric, Takami Keigo.  
He had scanned quickly all the photos, and there was one—a close-up of your pretty face, flushed and sweaty, eyes close tight while you resisted his energetic thrusts: it was splotchy. A crusty, off-whitey stain splattered across your face in the picture.  
It felt like a blunt punch to his gut. His vision went red when at the tact, he recognized how cum looks like when it dries out.  
This was definitely Dabi´s reckless and mocking, signature.
His wings spread bristly and sharp, buzzing with anger, in a calculated jump leaped off the ground and pulled out his cellphone sending a text message.
Hawks.-
We need to talk.
Typing...
Touya.-
Sure, bucket of chicken, see you at the usual spot.
Hawks's eyes gleamed with cold rage as he sped up toward the meeting place.
“Endeavor saved the day again, with the help of hero Hawks, they rescued a student who was caught in the crossfire of a Nomu attack—” the reporter informed, while recorded scenes of the incident were played on the back. 
Dabi rested his elbows lazily on his knees as he waited for the birdman to show. He must be livid. Dabi thought, amused. His gaze analyzed the footage on the TV. Blue eyes watched Endeavor’s flames burn like a thousand suns, so intense and so irresponsible that if it weren’t for the bucket of chicken, you would have been charred— and that was, when he spotted it.
His bright blue eyes widening at the odd discovery. Rewinding it, he watched it again, and again, and again. The villain recorded every appearance of his father on the TV, to analyze it thoughtfully and so one day fry him to death, properly. 
It was a noticeable and severe, injury.
Endeavor's flames had licked at Hawks’ arm and part of his wing. Nevertheless, in the surveillance photos he had took out of a lucky strike, Hawks didn’t sport those injuries. How had he missed it?
What a peculiar oddity, the raven-haired villain thought, looking at one of the copies he kept for private usage.
The image printed on the paper was a true masterpiece. Dabi knew Hawks from way back, and the second the Hero joyfully requested to be accepted in the league of villains, claiming to the four winds that he wanted to change sides, Dabi knew he was playing the sordid spy. 
Even so, the villain played it by ear, taking advantage of what he could and discarding what was plain garbage. 
These photos, well, this were pure gold.... Hawks finally looked like the villain he pretended to be. Fucking the brains out of the poor student –whom he saved from death earlier– plunging inside your pristine pussy with ferality he had only witnessed when the blond was in heat, all of this at the commodities of some dirty alley. Your pretty face pressed against hard concrete while he carved the shape of his heroic cock deep inside you, more than ten photos supported this indecent act of Hero number two, a whole variety of sexual positions, a real feast to the eyes…. Not even Dabi himself could have done it better.  
The oldest Todoroki chuckled. Wicked gaze set on your pretty face…. What is your quirk? He wondered, obnoxiously intrigued by you.
You were like a mouse in the hawk's claws, squeaking and scurrying about ever so cutely. You had achieved what he never did, make Hawks reveal his darker side in plain light... Bravo! you deserved a standing ovation. Dabi was definitely hooked.
His fat and awfully hard cock pressed against his stomach was proof enough of how much he liked those photos, maybe he could give himself some relief before Keigo arrived, all bristle and aggressive. Dabi wished to welcome his oldest acquaintance, jacking himself off, looking at your pretty face contorted in pain and bliss. 
The smallest of smirks twisted his scarred lips when the wave of air from Hawks harsh landing, blown the skirts of his trench coat. Buh, too late…. 
“Hello there, birdy boy,” Picking the set of photos, stuffed them inside his trench coat and twirled around to meet him. “Tell me, how do you feel after getting your rocks off? —Let me be the first to tell ya, you are glowing.”
Dabi teased, proficiently. He could tell, behind those stormy, golden eyes of his, there were questions brewing. 
“—Who the fuck do you think you are, Dabi?!”
“What did I do?” the villain feigned mocking innocence, looking amusedly offended.
Hawks ignored the vile that dropped down his spine at hearing him replying so unabashedly.
“Do you have people tailing me?!” The blond growled low in his throat, “without a fucking doubt this Nomu attack was your thing-”
“Nah, nah, nah, birdy boy.” He shook his head, playfully. “That has Shigaraki’s signature all over it—don´t blame it on yours truly,” he said it like that on purpose, knowing it will unbalance him and... it did.
Dabi spared a glance his way, with that crazy look on his face he always gave when felt overly amused by a situation and continued explaining. “Dust-face wanted to test his new creation against number one hero... It turned out to be great disappointment.”
“—I bet not as disappointing as your father in you.” Keigo couldn’t stop the snarl that fell from his chest accompanying a wicked twitch on his lip. The blond was blazing with toxic anger, and Dabi entertained his punch under the belt with sadistic silence.
“After fucking a pretty student against her will in some dirty alley, one would think you'll in a better mood.” He grinned his most wicked grin. That comment had irked him. 
Takami Keigo was the only other being alive who knew about his sordid secret past, of course, that sensitive topic would eventually backfire at his face! After all, they used to tousle among the sheets during Hawks’s heats, and those kinds of topics were like their pillow talk. 
If they were a Heroic team, their name would be ‘The Daddy issues duo’. 
Dabi stared at him fully, and there was so much sadism or wickedness in what he said next, that it made his words all the more antagonizing.
“I must admit you picked a pretty one, real pretty girl—” his grin only grew as Hawks’s scowl deepened. “—Let me know more about this little cunt, Keigo. I usually can’t shut you up,” he smirked, reaping some humor from the situation. 
“Go on, I’m intrigued to know how firm her tits were, the tightness of her pussy—was she a virgin? -…” Hawks felt exasperated, almost at the verge of a fit, “... but what am I saying, of course she was! You damn criminal—”
His next words caught in his throat as Hawks rushed to him, in a vicious attack. Even been waiting for it, Dabi had trouble dodging it, his damn feathers were devilishly sharp against his staples.
A feral fight broke out, giant blue flames licked the walls of the abandoned building, thankfully the roof was already destroyed beforehand, otherwise it would have exploded, thus drawing the attention of some unwanted Hero who was patrolling around. 
Hawks viciously attacked him with precise movements, gliding around him and sneaking up to slash his chest with the long feather he was using as a sword. Dabi's agility was nothing to laugh at, anyone else would be cut in half but he only had a scratch, and the mourn of his favorite white shirt.
“You owe me a new shirt, birdbrains—”
The flame-user extended a glowing palm in preparation to attack, and Hawks fell directly into his trap, he dodged, anyway his other palm was already smoking and without preamble the raven-haired fired a puff of blazing blue flames which licked the crimson wings of the hero forcing him to take flight and stay away from him.
From up high, Keigo read the intentions in Dabi’s daring stance, as he calculated the risk of keep on teaching him a lesson. 
“You can’t just keep burning everything around you, Todoroki-” he said up high in the sky, emphasizing his last name since he knew, he hated it. Calculations had been made. 
The blond had decided he wanted to see the villain on his knees and begging for his unreachable forgiveness.
“Says who?” The white-hot glare in his turquoise eyes was as bright as the one on his palm, which smoldered into the bursting blue of flames as it lit up his fingers. “Says you? You stupid overly-sensitive pigeon—” he smirked a snort, looking up at him from the ground. Exposed chest heaving, and palms shining with dancing flames.
“Come down here with me, scared dove. I’m going to roast you! and then I’m going to find that girl, and I’m going to fuck her RAW—” Dabi spread his arms out, theatrically. The stare on his eyes more vicious from the high angle of Hawks. “I think I’ll debut her sweet, virgin asshole, it must be SO tight and warm… by the way, did you like my gift?” 
The banter in his voice made Hawks hiss a low and dangerous curse, and when he peeked down at Touya’s hot glare, those pulsing eyes shone with something beyond just mockery, something akin lust... it was, pure hunger.  
“I had forgotten to thank you Keigo,” He tilted his head tauntingly, in false courtesy. “I didn't even remember when the last time I had rub one out like that—fucking mess I did… next time, I’ll cum in her REAL face.” 
Takami Keigo just saw red, his brain snapped, instincts overcame him. He knew had to be cautious, the black-haired villain was up to something, relentlessly taunting him… nevertheless, his body attacked, unable to control himself. 
“You’re NOT allowed to mention her!” Keigo swooped towards him, “—you’re a piece of shit that doesn’t deserve to even breathe the same air as her!” 
The Hero wheeled around him slicing his trench coat through the back. The black leather fabric hugging his torso slipped to one side, and the photos safely kept in his inner pocket fell to the filthy ground. Hawks's fierce gaze landed on the pictures, and that scarce moment of hesitation was more than enough for Dabi.
Dabi’s flames spread across his wings like fire on dry leaves, the hero fell to the ground, spinning around to put them out and before he could adopt a defensive stance again… Dabi was on top of him. Beautiful cerulean flames licking at his fingers, as a wicked smile stretched across that stapled face.  
“—Oops! looks like I burned your precious wings,” The manic grin on his face had only made Keigo remember his number one rule: never underestimate Dabi. 
The blond just stared up at him, doing his best to stay compose.
“You don’t seem worried…” the villain accused, “I´ve been meaning to mention this: I can't see the wounds that my piece-of-shit father left you yesterday…” the sole of his boot pressed into Hawk’s chest to moved it from side to side while pretending to check, “that’s odd—you ought to solve this riddle for me, birdbrains.”
He stomped on his charred arm making him wince, and leant down to whisper, teasingly. “Do it, and I might even reward you,” he grinned too pleased, “-by letting you suck me off, as you love to.”  
Hawks grunted low, though it wasn’t the timber he had used before, it was different. Genuine displeasure leaked into his voice. “I don’t do that on purpose—”
“Yes, you, fucking do!” Dabi stressed, squatting down over his chest, hovering over the injured Hero. Fingers tensed as flames licked their tips. “Don't know if you heard blondie, but when you are in heat, it´s like if you were made to be fucked and breed by yours truly.”  The broad smirk that shifted his metallic staples made Keigo shift uncomfortably.  
Dabi was actually frustrating him. Hawks just wanted to erase that sly smile from his lips, too sly and self-indulgent, almost as if.... Oh!
To Dabi’s surprise, Hawks started to giggle- it seemed genuine. A real laugh. The blond couldn’t help it. His hunch was awfully hilarious.  
“Is that it, Dabi... really?” he asked, scoffing. A lonely brow raised on the fire-bender’s face, holding something close to bewilderment. “Are you really that jealous that now I have a mate, and I´ll no longer need you to help me with my ruts?” he kept on giggling, openly ignoring Dabi’s deadpanned frown “—how lame…” 
Dabi mumbled something intelligible to then snort and shrug, flatly. Shaking his head while straightening up, and not even a second apart, the kicks began. Each time harder to make sure he hurt the blond, his face never losing the same mask of boredom and indifference he was known for.  
“Don’t flatter yourself, hero imitation, you’re just a cumdump to me…” he informed, almost bored. “A flesh-light, if you prefer. It amuses me to see you squirm like a whore under my touch—"
Dabi wrinkled his nose, and Hawks chuckled, a teasing, annoying sound that only served to make Dabi hiss. 
“Nah, Touya’s jealous of a little schoolgirl,” the blond boasted, “…c’me here, and I’ll even gift you a kiss, so you can stop crying—” 
The blond taunted him sporting a broken lip, blows adorned his jaw, singed wings, and dirty and emaciated suit... Yet, his smile was devastatingly bewitching as he held out his arms, inviting the villain to take the space in between them. 
Dabi snarled, straddling his body once again and delivering withering blows. 
“—I’ll burn that fucking smirk of your ridiculous face, shitty hero.”  
No doubt Hawks knew how to rattle the Todoroki, not many had the ability to make his blood boil.  Hawks covered from the strikes with his forearms, and in a twist, he swiped his leg making Dabi stumble upon himself.
“Don't go around falling for me, Touya-” Keigo shared in all sarcasm and giggles only to receive a square punch in the face. 
Dabi sighed, fed off. “Not everyone is in love with you, you self-centered idiot.” He spat, grabbing Hawk’s jaw inside his fist. “That's why I hate heroes, they fall in love with their own legend—” the flame-user tightened his hand around his jaw and without letting go, hauled him up to face him.
“I'm intrigued, not jealous, you narcissistic jerk... there's a huge, gigantic difference …” Dabi sounded threatening and Keigo’s mouth shaped in the form of an ‘o’ as if realizing the true colors behind Touya’s actions, and just when he thought he had him figured out— his lips slammed against his in a coppery flavored kiss.  
COMING SOON PART 12....
➡️ ARTWORK OF THIS STORY
@wtvbabes @dreamlessnight @naomi1247e @alicecil87 @geniejunn @justanerd1 @bakugosgirl01 @toxicxmindsposts
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solxamber · 4 months ago
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Shark Tanks and Shady Deals - Azul Ashengrotto x reader
After narrowly dodging a one-way trip to the sharks, you've hit rock bottom, career-wise. Enter Azul: your friendly (totally-not-shady) talent manager. In a moment of desperation, you sign with him. Wait, he's actually really good at this. Like, too good at this. Maybe the near-shark experience was just the universe’s weird way of setting you up?
w.c: 10.5k
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You were doomed. Utterly and completely screwed.
The day had started out as usual—you’d shown up for filming in your usual state of caffeine-induced autopilot. But the moment you stepped on set, you’d been hit with the news that the director wanted a small change to your next scene.
A small change, they’d said.
You weren’t sure how dangling over a pool filled with actual sharks for the sake of some cheap thrills counted as a "small" change.
Seriously. Actual sharks. And worse? The scene involved you trying to “seduce” the lead while balancing on a wobbly plank that dangled above the tank. Who wrote this script? Why was this being greenlit? This had to be breaking a law.
“You’ll be perfectly safe!” the director had assured you with that suspicious smile that directors give when they’re one day away from having a lawsuit slapped on their desk. “We’ve had the sharks… sedated. Probably. No need to worry!”
"Probably" wasn't exactly reassuring.
And that’s how you’d found yourself standing in front of your director and refusing. Actually refusing. You weren’t about to let yourself become the thumbnail for the next YouTube video essay about ‘Actors Who Died Stupidly for Garbage Art.’
“C’mon, what are you, chicken?” your co-star had sneered, all smug as if he wasn’t terrified himself. He’d been gripping the railing with white knuckles while trying to act all cool about it.
“Listen, if I wanted to end my career, or my life, I’d start a Twitter feud with a K-pop group,” you had deadpanned, crossing your arms. “I’m not doing it.”
What followed was a spectacular implosion. You could still see the disbelief on the director’s face, as if the concept of an actor saying “no” was alien to him. Your refusal? It kicked off a chain reaction: you were labeled “difficult,” your role was cut, and before you knew it, your agency had dropped you faster than you could say "shark-infested waters."
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Now, you were sitting on a park bench, staring at the crumbs of your half-eaten sandwich, contemplating the life choices that had led you to being unemployed and blacklisted from any decent drama in the country. The sharks might’ve been preferable to this.
You sighed. Maybe you’d start a new life. Move to a remote island and become a hermit. Or maybe a fisherman! Fishermen didn’t have to deal with directors, right?
“Excuse me,” a smooth voice cut into your thoughts, breaking you out of your pity party. You blinked up, squinting into the sunlight, only to find yourself staring at a man who was entirely too polished for this park. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, his silver-rimmed glasses reflecting the afternoon light in just the right way that you almost thought he was some kind of model.
“Sorry to disturb you,” he said, flashing a well-practiced smile. “But you seemed rather... troubled.”
Great. You were so pathetic that strangers were now approaching you out of concern. Fantastic.
“No, it’s fine,” you mumbled, trying to sound less pathetic than you actually were. “I’m just... processing life.”
“Well,” he said, taking a seat beside you with a confidence that made you think he owned the place, “I couldn’t help but overhear a bit about your recent… situation.”
You side-eyed him. “Do I have a sign on my back that says ‘Miserable and Fired’?”
He chuckled softly, and you realized that he probably did know your situation—if the sly look in his eyes was anything to go by. This guy was shady. No questions about it.
“But you know,” he continued, leaning back against the bench, “for someone with your talent, there are always… opportunities. You just need the right connections.”
The way he said "connections" sent a small shiver down your spine. Oh, great. This guy’s gonna offer me some dodgy deal involving pyramid schemes, isn’t he?
“Who are you, exactly? I don't want to sell MLMs by the way” you say, skeptical.
He flashed you a business card. Azul Ashengrotto, CEO of Mostro Corp. The card was ridiculously fancy—embossed gold lettering, sleek finish. It practically screamed ‘shady but professional.’
“I’m a manager,” he said smoothly. “I run an agency that helps clients… of a certain caliber.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Certain caliber?”
“Talented, of course,” he said, smiling like a fox who’d just found a henhouse. “And from what I’ve seen, you have the potential to be a star. It’s just a shame that such talent is going to waste.”
You stared at him for a moment, half expecting him to start laughing and reveal that this was some kind of prank show. But he didn’t. He just kept smiling that annoyingly charming smile, waiting for you to bite the bait.
And you were desperate enough to bite. “Alright, Mr. Ashengrotto. I'll bite. What’s your deal?”
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What followed was one of the strangest business meetings you’d ever been part of. You found yourself in a dimly lit café that doubled as Azul’s office, where he laid out his plans for your career with the kind of precision and efficiency that made your head spin.
Everything seemed normal at first—he arranged auditions for you, connected you with stylists, and even got you a few decent roles to build your portfolio. But then, things started getting weird.
For one, Floyd Leech—the guy who looked like he enjoyed squeezing the life out of people for fun—was suddenly your bodyguard. You had no idea why you needed a bodyguard, but there Floyd was, lurking behind you with that predatory grin of his, ready to pounce on anyone who so much as looked at you funny.
“Oh, don’t worry about Floyd,” Azul had said with a dismissive wave when you’d asked about it. “He’s just there for… insurance purposes.”
Insurance against what? You’d wondered, but wisely kept your mouth shut.
Then there was Jade. Ever the smooth talker, Jade seemed to be involved in every part of your career—whether it was subtly manipulating the press or somehow making your critics mysteriously disappear from public view. He was polite and terrifyingly efficient, and you were certain he could make entire scandals vanish with a snap of his fingers. He was shady, but he was the PR manager of your dreams.
And then there was Azul himself. The man was shady, no question. Every time he smiled at you, you half expected him to ask you to sign your soul over to him. But strangely enough, you found yourself growing fond of him. Despite the underhanded methods and the vaguely mafia-esque vibes, Azul actually cared about your success. He was invested in making sure you succeeded.
He pulled out all the stops just to make sure you were taken care of. The small, thoughtful gestures that he tried to pass off as “business necessities” but were far too personal to be anything but affection.
One day, you came back from a particularly grueling audition to find a brand-new set of skincare products waiting for you. Attached to the box was a note: “You deserve only the best. – A.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the warmth that spread through your chest.
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Azul falls first. And he falls hard.
It had been a good day—or at least, it had been a good enough day. You were walking down the corridor towards Azul’s office, ready to talk about your first gig under his management. You’d been feeling a little lighter lately, knowing that things were finally falling into place with your career. Azul had been a lifesaver, despite his rather... unconventional methods.
But as you approached the door, you froze.
Muffled voices were coming from inside. At first, you thought it was just a typical business negotiation. After all, Azul had many clients and was no stranger to... tense conversations. But then, the voices escalated. One, in particular, sounded agitated, bordering on furious.
You tiptoed closer to the door, the actor in you instinctively picking up on the subtext and emotional cues of the conversation. Whoever was in there was pissed off. You strained to listen.
“I don’t care what the contract says,” the voice spat out, dripping with indignation. “I’m the star of this show. Do you think I’ll let some washed-up nerd dictate how I do my job? I’ve got producers eating out of my hand. You’re lucky I even signed on with your pathetic little company.”
Oof. That was... rough.
There was a pause, and you could picture Azul’s composed expression, his steely calm always in place no matter how nasty things got. His voice was cool, detached. “As your manager, it’s my job to ensure you fulfill the obligations outlined in your contract. If you fail to adhere to them, there will be consequences.”
The other voice laughed—a nasty, derisive sound. “Consequences? Please. What are you going to do? Sue me? You’re just a glorified, ugly, little accountant with delusions of grandeur. I’m the star. Without me, your little operation crumbles. I suggest you remember who holds the power here, Ashengrotto.”
You could feel the insult hanging heavy in the air. Your fists clenched. You knew that comment had really hit. It wasn’t just about the power dynamic in the industry; this actor was taking a shot at Azul’s looks.
You couldn’t take it anymore. You weren’t just going to stand there and let some arrogant, entitled actor stomp all over him. You burst through the door.
“Excuse me,” you said, loud and clear, your eyes fixed on the offending party. They turned to you, surprised. “I couldn’t help but overhear your eloquent speech just now. Really, it was breathtaking. Almost Shakespearean in its delusion.”
The actor blinked, caught off-guard by your sudden entrance.
“And I have to say,” you continued, crossing your arms and giving them a once-over, “you must be so proud of yourself. I mean, to have reached such heights in your career despite having the personality of a wet sock? Incredible. Truly. I’m amazed the directors can tolerate you long enough to hand you a script.”
Azul’s eyes widened slightly as you strolled further into the room, all confidence and righteous indignation. He stood frozen, clearly stunned that you had shown up at just the right time.
The actor’s face turned red, their expression twisting into a snarl. “Who do you think you are?”
“Oh, me? I’m just the one who reads contracts before signing them,” you said sweetly, throwing them a sharp smile. “But hey, I get it—reading is hard for some people. That’s why we have professionals like Azul here. You know, people who are smart enough to handle things like legal terms and intellectual property, which are clearly out of your wheelhouse. Not everyone can be as brilliant as you when it comes to... what was it again? Oh, right, throwing tantrums because the world doesn’t revolve around you.”
Azul blinked, still processing what was happening. You were... defending him? Fiercely? His heart did a little stutter-step, but he tried to pull himself together.
The actor sneered at you, puffing up their chest. “I don’t have to stand here and listen to this. I’m the one with the power here!”
You tilted your head, as if you were considering their words. “Oh, you’re so powerful. Look at you! Big, mighty star. But let me tell you something,” you said, stepping closer with an almost predatory grin, “in this industry? Power isn’t just about being on camera. It’s about the people who pull the strings behind the scenes. People like Azul, who are smart enough to navigate contracts, negotiations, and legalities. You know, the things you clearly didn’t understand when you signed your name on that dotted line.”
You turned to Azul, flashing him a grin before looking back at the actor. “And trust me, you wouldn’t last two minutes without someone like him watching your back. So, instead of throwing a tantrum, why don’t you go home, read your contract—assuming you can read—and think about how grateful you should be that someone as capable as Azul is even willing to manage you.”
The actor sputtered, unable to form a coherent response.
Azul, meanwhile, was still trying to catch his breath. He knew you were a talented actor, but this? This was something else. The way you stood up for him with such... confidence, such fire, had him reeling. His mind was spinning in ways he couldn’t quite grasp. You had stood up for him, defended him so fiercely, and made it look effortless. His heart gave another traitorous lurch in his chest. He wasn’t supposed to feel this way—certainly not about a client. But, wow, the way you had just handled that situation was...
The actor stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind them. You just stood there, hands on your hips, victorious. You turned to Azul with a grin.
“Problem solved,” you said with a wink.
Azul blinked, mouth slightly open. “I... What just...”
“You’re welcome,” you said, walking up to him and tapping the stack of contracts in his hand. “You’re too polite sometimes. Let people like me do the talking every once in a while.”
Azul’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. You could practically hear the gears grinding in his head as he tried to process his emotions. All he could think about was how confident you were, how assertive, how... attractive.
Jade and Floyd would never let him live this down.
But right now, Azul couldn’t think about that. All he could think about was how you had defended him so effortlessly and how his heart was racing in a way he’d never quite felt before. Oh no. He was in trouble.
And as you shot him another smile, one of those dazzling, confident grins that made his stomach flip, Azul realized something else: He was falling. Hard.
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You’re sitting in the lounge of Mostro Corp’s office, Azul across from you, his usual composed self with a pen in hand as he reviewed some new contracts. Everything felt calm—well, calm for him. You, on the other hand, were fidgeting in your seat. You needed to break the news to him about the offer, and frankly, you had no idea how to approach it.
“So,” you begin, trying to sound as casual as possible, “I got an offer from another agency.”
Azul’s pen screeched to a halt, freezing mid-signature as if someone had just told him that Mostro Lounge had run out of drinks during peak hours. He didn’t look up immediately—no, instead, his glasses slid ever so slightly down his nose, the slight twitch of his fingers giving away the panic brewing underneath his pristine exterior.
“What?” His voice came out strangled, halfway between an octave too high and a choking sound.
You, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in Azul’s brain, continued casually, “Yeah, it’s from one of those top agencies. They think I have a lot of potential and want to sign me on for this big, high-profile drama. Pretty exciting, huh?”
You were practically grinning like a child who’d just found a shiny new toy, but Azul? He was seconds away from a full-blown existential crisis.
Inside Azul’s mind, things were rapidly spiraling out of control. Top agency? High-profile drama? They want to sign you?! He’d invested so much time, so much effort—no, no, this couldn’t be happening. His precious investment… his precious person… stolen away by another agency?! Ridiculous! Outrageous! It was completely… utterly… breaking him.
Azul’s inner monologue was a flurry of despair and denial. He could almost see it now—some slick, rival manager swooping in with promises of red carpets and glamorous roles, tempting you away with glitzy trailers and five-star restaurants. No, this couldn’t be how it ended. He had to keep you with him!
On the outside, however, Azul forced his face into a tight, polite smile that looked more like a man moments from passing out. “I… see. And you’re… considering this offer?” The words left his lips like venom, though you didn’t catch the sheer level of devastation laced into them.
“Yeah, it seems like a good opportunity,” you replied, shrugging casually. “It might be good for my career, right? I mean, that’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?”
Oh god, Azul thought, his brain short-circuiting as he stared at you. This is it. I’m losing them. They’re going to leave me for some flashy agency, and then—then what? I’ll never see them again!
Azul’s breath came out in small, controlled bursts as he tried to keep himself from visibly panicking. No, calm down, Ashengrotto. You’re a businessman. You can negotiate your way out of this. But a small part of his brain, the part that was definitely not a businessman, was screaming, Please don’t leave me!
“Ah, well… perhaps we should… further discuss your future endeavors?” Azul finally said, his voice tight. He placed his hands on his desk, knuckles white as he forced a smile that looked like it was causing him actual physical pain.
But you, bless your completely oblivious heart, smiled brightly and nodded. “Sure! I mean, I haven’t accepted it yet, so I thought I’d run it by you first.”
Azul nearly choked. Haven’t accepted it yet? His brain did a frantic backflip. Wait—there’s still hope!
His brain quickly switches to damage control mode. He straightened his posture, trying to regain some semblance of his usual composed businessman self. “You… haven’t accepted the offer yet?” he asked, voice carefully neutral.
“Nope,” you replied, reaching for a snack on the table. “I figured I’d talk to you first. You know, weigh my options.” You casually popped a cracker in your mouth, completely unaware that Azul was just about two seconds away from collapsing into a puddle of pure relief.
Azul’s heart soared. Okay, okay, we still have time. I just need to—wait, did they just say they wanted to run it by me? He blinked, his brain spinning in confusion. Why would they…?
He cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses in an attempt to regain control of the situation. “I see. I’m… honored that you would consider discussing it with me first.” The relief in his voice was palpable, though he tried his best to maintain his usual air of dignity. “Though… I would like to remind you of the benefits of staying with Mostro Corp. We have always prided ourselves on our… unique approach to talent management.”
He said this with the air of a lawyer arguing a life-or-death case, when in reality, you were just mulling over whether you wanted fancier sushi or Azul’s morally ambiguous but highly effective business tactics.
Meanwhile, Azul’s brain was going a mile a minute. I can’t lose them. I’ve put too much into this. There must be something I can do… His eyes flicked to you, who was munching happily on crackers, completely unaware of the dramatic turmoil unfolding inside his head.
“Well, of course, you know I value everything you’ve done for me,” you said with a smile, patting his hand. “It’s just nice to know that I’ve got other options, you know?”
Options?! Azul’s brain screamed. NO! I AM THE ONLY OPTION! But outwardly, he managed to laugh—albeit a little shakily—and nod. “Yes… options… how delightful…”
You went back to casually munching your snacks, while Azul sat there, mentally spiraling deeper into a pit of doom and gloom, trying to keep a lid on the emotional hurricane swirling inside him.
By the time you finally looked up at him again, his composure had cracked just enough for you to notice the slight tremble in his usually steady hands. “Azul… Are you okay?”
His mind raced, trying to find the words. “I… I just thought that… perhaps you’d prefer to stay with someone who knows you well. Someone who understands your… unique needs.”
You blinked at him. “Wait… Azul, are you jealous?”
Azul sputtered, the words catching in his throat. “I—what? No! Of course not!” His face flushed red, his voice rising in pitch. “Jealousy is for amateurs! I am merely… concerned about your future. As any responsible manager would be!”
“Uh-huh,” you said, a knowing smile spreading across your face. “Right. Of course. Well, just so you know, I haven’t made any decisions yet.”
Azul let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Okay. Okay. We’re still in the game.
“And besides,” you continued, giving him a reassuring smile, “I trust you, Azul. You’ve done more for me than anyone else has. I’m not going anywhere unless it’s something you think is best for me.”
Azul blinked, his brain stalling for a moment. They trust me? They’re not leaving?
The relief that washed over him was almost too much to bear. He slumped back in his chair, feeling as though the weight of the world had just been lifted off his shoulders. He smiled—a genuine, warm smile that made your heart skip a beat.
“Well then,” he said, his voice softer now, “I suppose we’ll continue as we always have, won’t we?”
You grinned, leaning back in your chair. “Looks like it.”
And for the first time that day, Azul relaxed. But somewhere in the back of his mind, he was already planning how to lock you down even tighter in his company’s grasp… for purely business reasons, of course.
And maybe, just maybe, for something a little more personal.
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You were leaning against the wall, sipping on a coffee Azul had bribed Floyd into fetching (after much grumbling and threats about broken kneecaps). Today was a rare break from the constant whirlwind of shoots, and Azul had dragged you along to an event where industry people could network and rub elbows with those who thought they could “make it big.” You were supposed to be schmoozing, but you honestly couldn’t bring yourself to care.
From across the room, you watched as a tall, good-looking actor made a beeline for Azul, who was politely chatting with a producer. The actor had that annoying air of confidence, someone who clearly thought they were a big deal, but not quite there yet. They slid right into the conversation, flashing a brilliant smile at Azul, who raised an eyebrow, bemused but ever the businessman. The actor looked at Azul like he was a prize—no, like he was the prize to win.
“Azul Ashengrotto,” the actor began, their tone dripping with charm. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you. I’ve seen how much of a star you've made of your… client.” They gestured toward you, their eyes briefly flicking in your direction before they focused back on Azul. “I’ve been thinking—I could really use someone with your talents managing my career.”
You snorted into your coffee, nearly choking. Seriously? This guy wants Azul to manage them?
After that dumbass who couldn’t read had pulled that stunt, Azul had delegated all the actors he was managing to his employees, and he was now only managing you, which admittedly made you extremely giddy.
You straightened up from your position against the wall, deciding to interrupt before Azul could even entertain the notion of jumping ship.
With a wide grin and zero hesitation, you strode up to them, placing yourself squarely between the actor and Azul. “Yeah, no. Sorry, but Azul’s my exclusive manager.” You gave them a look that could cut glass, making sure the actor understood the weight of your words. “He’s not taking on any new clients.”
The actor blinked, taken aback by your sudden appearance and directness. “Oh, but—”
“No buts,” you interrupted, standing firm. “Azul is mine. I mean, my manager.” You could feel Azul’s gaze burning into the side of your face, but you kept your focus on the actor. “He’s not available to anyone else. Trust me, he’s busy enough keeping up with all my… uh, brilliance.”
Azul, to his credit, didn’t immediately burst out laughing. Instead, he simply pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, the ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “What they mean to say,” he said smoothly, “is that I’m currently not looking to expand my roster at this time. But I appreciate the interest.”
The actor, visibly flustered, tried to salvage the situation. “I see… I didn’t mean to intrude, I just thought—”
“No hard feelings,” you said, patting their arm in what you hoped was a reassuring gesture. “But I’d suggest finding someone else. Someone… less exclusive.”
The actor gave a forced smile and mumbled something about needing to talk to someone across the room before scampering off. The moment they were out of earshot, you turned back to Azul, who was eyeing you with a raised brow, lips twitching like he was trying his hardest not to burst out laughing.
“Exclusive manager, huh?” he mused, his voice warm with amusement. “I didn’t realize I’d been promoted to such a prestigious title.”
You shrugged, not even slightly embarrassed. “Hey, I’ve got to protect my manager. I can’t have you getting distracted by someone else.”
Azul chuckled softly, but the laughter wasn’t entirely aimed at the situation. No, it was more for how ridiculously flattered he felt by your words. Exclusive, huh? He’d never thought he’d be the sort of person to get all giddy over being someone’s exclusive anything, but there it was. Something about the way you’d swooped in so quickly to claim him—without hesitation—made his heart do a strange little flutter.
Internally, Azul was practically doing cartwheels. You had no idea how hard it was for him to suppress the grin threatening to take over his face. But, ever the composed businessman, he simply adjusted his cufflinks, a faint laugh escaping his lips. “Well, it seems I’m in high demand,” he teased lightly, trying to mask just how pleased he really was.
“You’ve always been in high demand,” you shot back with a grin. “Just lucky for me that I got to you first.”
Azul's laughter this time was soft but genuine. “Indeed. Very lucky.”
But inside, he was absolutely beaming. Not even the prospect of losing a business opportunity could faze him—because honestly, how could anything compare to the feeling of being yours? Even if you didn’t fully realize it yet.
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You’d been roped into having dinner with Azul’s family after a business trip to Coral Sea City went surprisingly well. Somehow, what was supposed to be a brief check-in had escalated into a full-blown family dinner at the Ashengrotto household, with Azul, Floyd, and Jade acting as your escorts (read: babysitters).
Azul, as always, had planned to keep things professional. Just a casual dinner. What could go wrong? Except, as it turned out, quite a lot.
The minute you walked in, you were greeted by the smell of delicious food and spices, courtesy of Mrs. Ashengrotto, who practically beamed when she saw you with Azul. “Oh! Azul! You didn’t tell me you were bringing your partner!” she exclaimed, wiping her hands on a dish towel.
You blinked in surprise. “Oh, no, I’m not—"
Before you could even finish, Floyd swooped in, grinning like cat who just caught the canary “Yup, they’re totally dating, Auntie! Azul’s been so secretive, but we finally got him to spill the beans, heh~”
You shot Azul a panicked glance, but his face had already turned a subtle shade of pink. He cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure. “That’s… not exactly true, Mother. They’re my client.”
“Client? Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Mrs. Ashengrotto asked, giving you both a knowing wink.
You were on the verge of correcting her again, but before you could, Jade, ever the schemer, chimed in. “Oh, it’s quite romantic, really. Azul’s always looking after them, making sure they’re taken care of, both in their career and in life. The dedication he shows is quite admirable.”
“That’s because I’m their manager,” Azul muttered, shooting Jade a glare that clearly said please stop helping.
“Manager? Oh, Azul, don’t be so modest,” Mrs. Ashengrotto said, her voice soft with maternal pride. “It’s wonderful that you’re so dedicated to them.”
Floyd, ever the troublemaker, leaned in with a mischievous grin. “Did you know that Azul practically handpicks all of their outfits too? He’s got a real eye for detail.”
Azul looked mortified. “I did not—”
“Isn’t that romantic?” Jade sighed dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. “Choosing clothes for someone, guiding them through their career, always by their side…”
Azul pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting the urge to throttle his eels. “I’m just ensuring they look professional.”
Mrs. Ashengrotto smiled sweetly at the exchange. “That’s so thoughtful of you, Azul. Just like your stepfather—always looking out for the people he cares about.”
You opened your mouth to interject, but before you could get a word in, Azul’s grandmother shuffled in from the next room, her staff clicking against the floor. She was a small, wizened woman with sharp eyes that seemed to peer straight through you.
“Ah,” she said, nodding sagely. “So this is the one who has captured Azul’s heart.”
You felt like you were about to faint. “No, no, no! We’re not—”
“Don’t be shy, dear,” Azul’s grandmother interrupted, giving you a smile that somehow made you feel accepted. “Azul’s always been very particular, but I see why he’s chosen you. Strong-willed, intelligent… It’s a good match.”
Azul’s face was the color of a boiled lobster at this point. “Grandmother, they’re not—"
“Oh, it’s just like a fairy tale,” Floyd sighed dramatically, flinging his arms wide. “The manager and the star, united against the odds! Love blossoming amidst the contracts!”
Jade leaned in, his voice smooth and teasing. “I suppose we’ll have to prepare a speech for the engagement party soon. You wouldn’t want to be caught unprepared, would you, Azul?”
Azul shot Jade a look that could kill. “There will be no engagement because there is nothing to engage.”
You, meanwhile, were torn between laughing and crawling under the table. How had this situation spiraled so completely out of control?
“Ah, young love,” Mrs. Ashengrotto said with a fond sigh. “It’s a beautiful thing. Just like when I met my husband. He was so shy at first too, you know.”
“I am not shy!” Azul protested, but his voice lacked its usual bite. He glanced at you, clearly embarrassed, but you could see the way his lips twitched with a suppressed smile. He was as flustered as you were, even if he was trying not to show it.
You decided to just give up and lean into it. “Well, I guess if everyone’s so sure we’re a couple,” you said, throwing a look at Azul, “then maybe we should start acting like one?”
Azul froze for a second, then gave you a half-amused, half-exasperated look. “You’re absolutely not helping.”
Jade chuckled. “Oh, but they are, Azul. They most certainly are.”
Azul sighed, shaking his head, but there was a faint smile on his face. His family continued to dote on you both throughout dinner, exchanging stories about Azul’s childhood and teasing him endlessly about your “relationship.” And while it was all a little overwhelming, you couldn’t help but find it… oddly heartwarming.
At the end of the night, as you and Azul finally managed to escape his family’s clutches, you caught him glancing at you, a rare softness in his eyes.
“You know,” he said quietly, “they’re never going to stop teasing us about this.”
You laughed, bumping his shoulder lightly. “Well, it could be worse. At least they like me.”
Azul smiled, his expression warm despite the chaos of the evening. “That, they do.”
And maybe, just maybe, you weren’t entirely opposed to the idea of them being right.
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The role was wild from the start: you’d been cast as a “Hay-Witch.” Yes, you heard that right. A Hay-Witch. The small-time movie was hyped as the next indie darling—a quirky, fantasy-adventure flick where your character used the mystical powers of hay to cure ailments, summon the wind, and fend off demons. It was like a strange blend of Hallmark romance and someone’s fever dream. And of course, you had to research this bizarre profession to get into character.
Where do you even begin? Naturally, with a trip to the village of Elderstraw, home to the world’s last remaining Hay-Witch practitioners. Because yes, apparently, that’s a thing.
You were baffled, Azul was intrigued, and the both of you set off to the countryside, where adventure awaited—and perhaps a bit of weirdness, too.
The village itself was charming in a “smells like cows and fresh grass” kind of way. Everyone was far too friendly, as if they hadn’t seen an outsider in years. You couldn’t walk five steps without someone giving you fresh milk, yogurt, or, unsurprisingly, bundles of hay. It was bizarre but kind of sweet.
It all seemed manageable until one of the village elders, a sprightly old woman with a mischievous glint in her eye, mistook you and Azul for a couple.
“Oh! Look at you two, so in love!” she exclaimed, hands clasped dramatically to her chest. “It warms my heart to see young folks so smitten.”
Azul chuckled, clearly amused. You, however, were mid-sip of water and nearly choked on it.
“No, no, we’re just—” you began, waving your hands wildly.
“Deny it all you want,” she said with a wink, “but love speaks louder than words. It’s in your eyes! And don’t you worry—we’ll make sure you enjoy all the festival activities together as a pair.”
“What festival?” you asked weakly.
“The Hay Festival, of course! Only couples can participate,” she said matter-of-factly, grabbing your face and Azul’s, smushing them together. “There’s no need to be shy! We’re not a judging village!”
Azul, the absolute traitor, merely smiled and shrugged. “When in Elderstraw…”
You shot him a withering look, but it was no use. The village had already decided, and there was no backing out.
The day started innocently enough, with the village’s version of “couple activities.” First up was the “Two-Man Hay Bale Haul,” a ridiculous contest where you and your supposed partner had to lift bales of hay and stack them as high as possible. Azul, ever the perfectionist, approached it like it was an Olympic event. Meanwhile, you were doing your best not to trip over the giant, scratchy bales.
“Careful,” Azul teased, as he hoisted yet another bale. “We wouldn’t want to ruin that professional image of yours.”
“I’m already in a village hauling hay for a Hay-Witch movie,” you grumbled. “My professional image is long gone.”
Next up was the “Lovers’ Hay Ride,” where you were forced to sit in a tiny wooden cart filled with—you guessed it—hay, while the local farmhands pulled you through the fields. The villagers serenaded you with what could only be described as country ballads.
Azul, to your horror, looked positively relaxed. You, on the other hand, felt like you were one step away from a sitcom-level breakdown.
“It’s peaceful here,” Azul remarked, gazing out at the rolling fields. “Don’t you think?”
“Peaceful?” you muttered, shoving a piece of hay out of your sleeve. “I’ve got hay everywhere. I think it’s multiplying.”
But it didn’t stop there. The locals had arranged a series of “intimate couple activities” that only got more ridiculous. From attempting to weave “love charms” out of hay (yours looked like a sad clump of straw), to participating in a “Hay-Witch Fortune Telling,” where the village’s oldest resident peered into a bowl of dried hay and made proclamations about your future.
“You’ll marry before the harvest!” the elderly fortune teller cried, her wrinkled face lighting up with joy. “I see it as clear as day! Your love will thrive like our crops in spring!”
You coughed, feeling a bit light-headed from the sheer absurdity of it all. “Uh, thanks? I think?”
Azul snickered, clearly enjoying the spectacle. “You heard her. Before the harvest.”
“Shut up,” you hissed, elbowing him.
But the straw that broke the hay-witch’s back came when the village elders insisted you both join them in the “Festival of Eternal Union”—which was apparently just a fancy way of saying “giant group picnic where all couples feed each other.”
“I’m going to die here,” you muttered as an elder handed you a basket of homemade cheese and bread. “This is how it ends for me.”
Azul, ever the opportunist, merely handed you a slice of bread with a smirk. “Then I’ll make sure it’s a memorable end.”
And somehow, throughout all of it, you found yourself… softening. The ridiculous activities, the constant teasing, the stolen glances and easy banter—it was all so strange, yet it felt right. Maybe it was the quiet charm of the village, or maybe it was just Azul being… well, Azul.
Your heart started doing funny little flips whenever he smiled at you, or when his hand brushed against yours by accident (or, more likely, on purpose). You were used to his confidence, his calculated demeanor, but here, in the middle of nowhere, he seemed softer. More human.
At some point, as you sat under the shade of a giant oak tree, watching the sunset, you realized with a jolt: Oh no. I’m actually falling for him.
You stared at him as he casually offered you a piece of fruit from the basket, completely unaware of the internal crisis you were having.
I’m falling for Azul Ashengrotto. In a tiny village where they think I’m a Hay-Witch. In the middle of a field. Because of hay. How is this my life?
The universe had a twisted sense of humor, clearly.
Azul glanced over at you, noticing your silence. “Something on your mind?”
You blinked rapidly, trying to compose yourself. “Uh, no! Nope. Just thinking about… hay.”
Azul quirked an eyebrow. “Hay?”
“Yeah,” you said lamely. “Lots of it here.”
He chuckled softly, shaking his head, hand brushing against yours. “You’re something else, you know that?”
Oh god, you thought, your heart thudding in your chest. I’m really doomed.
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You're no coward. You've realized your feelings and you're going to do something about it. You're almost certain he likes you back so all you have to do was confess right?
Oh, you sweet summer child. You wish.
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The sun had barely crept up over the horizon, but you were already at work, trying once again to get through Azul’s thick, polished skull that you had a crush on him. It had been weeks—no, months—of subtle hints. Casual touches on the arm. Extra compliments on his outfits. Playfully stealing his pens during meetings. Even dropping lines like, “You know, if you weren’t my manager, you’d make a great boyfriend.” Nothing had worked. Not even a flicker of recognition in those brilliant blue eyes of his.
Across the room, Floyd and Jade were quietly dying. Well, Floyd was barely quiet. His cackling echoed through the office more than once, only to be shushed by a very flustered Azul.
You sighed, watching Azul as he flipped through some papers, oblivious to the chaos happening right in front of him. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was intentionally ignoring your advances. But no—this was Azul. The guy who was both brilliant and completely clueless when it came to romance. It was like trying to flirt with a brick wall that had an MBA.
“Alright,” Azul muttered, adjusting his glasses. “Here’s the agenda for today’s meeting. We’ll need to go over the contract for your next project and—”
You weren’t even listening. Not really. You were too busy devising your next plan of attack. Jade caught your eye from across the room, smirking knowingly, while Floyd had his face buried in a pillow, trying not to burst into laughter again. They both knew what was coming. They always knew what was coming. This time, you weren’t going to go subtle. No, subtlety had failed you. This time, you were going to drop a bomb so big, Azul wouldn’t be able to deny it.
“Well,” you began, standing up from your chair with a dramatic flair. “Azul, there’s something I need to tell you.”
Azul barely looked up from his paperwork. “Yes? Is it about the new script?”
“No,” you said, a mischievous grin playing on your lips. “It’s about something... much more important.”
“More important than the script?” Azul raised an eyebrow, finally looking up at you. “Are you feeling alright? Should we reschedule the meeting?”
Jade had already covered his mouth with his hand, trying to stifle his laughter. Floyd had given up any attempt at composure and was sprawled out on the couch, face buried in a pillow, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably.
“No, no,” you continued, ignoring the fact that your two audience members were on the verge of a breakdown. “I’m perfectly fine. I’ve just... I’ve been trying to tell you something for a while now, and I think it’s time I just come out and say it.”
Azul blinked, looking genuinely concerned now. “If it’s about renegotiating your contract, we can certainly—”
“Oh my god, Azul, stop talking about contracts for five seconds!” you blurted out, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “This isn’t about the contract! It’s about you!”
Azul blinked, confusion settling in. “Me?”
“Yes, you!” You took a deep breath, preparing yourself. This was it. The moment of truth. “I like you. Like, really like you. As in, I’m attracted to you. Romantically.”
The silence that followed was deafening.
Azul stared at you, processing your words like you’d just spoken in an ancient, dead language. His eyes darted around the room, looking for some kind of logical explanation, while Jade’s shoulders shook harder with barely-contained laughter. Floyd was now actively biting his pillow to stop from shrieking in delight.
“...What?” Azul finally said, his voice full of disbelief.
“I. Like. You,” you repeated slowly, enunciating every word. “Like, in a romantic way. You know, feelings. Like affection, Azul. I’m saying I have a crush on you.”
Azul’s face flushed pink, and he shook his head rapidly as if trying to clear the fog. “N-no. That... That’s not possible. You must be mistaken.”
Floyd let out a loud snort of laughter, unable to hold back anymore. “Mistaken? About their OWN feelings?” he echoed, half-laughing, half-gasping for air. “Oh, this is too rich!”
Jade was trying to keep his composure, but he was wiping away tears now. “Azul, I do believe they’ve been quite clear.”
But Azul was undeterred. “No, no,” he said, standing up and pacing, hands flying around as he tried to piece together an explanation. “They’re clearly just being friendly. Maybe it’s a... a professional admiration! Yes, that’s it. A-and, perhaps, they’re simply appreciative of my management skills!”
Really? Right in front of your salad? If mental gymnastics was an actual sport, he would be the Olympic gold medalist without breaking a sweat.
Floyd was full-on howling now, tears streaming down his face as he clutched his sides. “Bro, I can’t breathe—what skills are you even talking about?”
“Azul,” you said with as much patience as you could muster, “I’m telling you that I like you in a romantic way. Like... I would very much like to go on a date with you. As in a romantic date.”
Azul stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes widening. “No,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to anyone else. “No, that can’t be right. It’s got to be a misunderstanding. you’ve never shown any romantic interest before. There must be some other explanation.”
“There isn’t,” you said, exasperated. “I’ve been dropping hints for months! I’ve been flirting with you this entire time!”
Azul looked at you, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Wait, what?”
You rubbed your temples in frustration. “Do you remember when I complimented your outfit every single day for a week?”
Azul blinked. “I thought you were just being polite.”
“And the time I said I’d love to have a boyfriend as organized as you?”
“I assumed you were just making conversation.”
Floyd rolled off the couch, clutching his stomach and wheezing from laughing so hard. “Boss, you’re killing me!”
Jade patted Azul’s shoulder, his face split into a wide grin. “Azul, perhaps it’s time to accept that they may actually like you.”
Azul stared at you, his brain doing backflips to try and comprehend what was happening. “But... why?”
“Because I like you,” you said with a sigh. “You’re smart, charming, and—despite being utterly oblivious—you’re incredibly caring.”
For a moment, Azul just stood there, mouth agape, trying to wrap his mind around the idea. “But... you’re my client. You can’t possibly like me in that way.”
Jade, at this point, was openly laughing. “Oh, Azul. You truly are one of a kind.”
You sighed again, this time with a fond smile. “You know what? Fine. Don’t believe me. I guess I’ll just have to be even more obvious about it.”
Floyd, still trying to catch his breath, managed to rasp out, “Can’t wait to see how that goes.”
Azul stared between you and his cackling friends, his mind still racing as you simply smiled at him, leaving the final blow for later. But little did he know, you had one more trick up your sleeve—the next time you had an interview, you’d make sure the whole world knew exactly how you felt. That should be obvious enough for even him to understand.
...Hopefully.
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The interview was going smoothly—or at least, it was supposed to. You were doing your usual promo rounds for your latest movie, fielding questions with ease, and feeling pretty confident. Azul stood off to the side, clipboard in hand, monitoring everything with his usual meticulous care.
Then, the interviewer hit you with the dreaded question. "So, there's been some talk about your personal life. A lot of fans are dying to know... is there someone special in your life right now?"
You didn’t even hesitate. Flashing a coy smile, you leaned forward in your chair, eyes gleaming with amusement. "You could say that, yeah."
Azul, off to the side, blinked. His eyebrows furrowed, immediately sensing danger. Wait. What? They never mentioned this before... His brain immediately started scanning for any missed signs. Were you seeing someone and hadn’t told him?
The interviewer’s grin widened, clearly excited by the scoop. “Oh, really? Someone special, huh? Do we know them?”
"Well," you mused, pretending to think about it as you twirled the water bottle cap in your hand. “I’d say a lot of people know them. They’re... pretty well-known for being supportive, always looking out for me, and just being an all-around amazing person."
Azul swallowed hard. Supportive? Well-known? He tried to stay calm, but his heart rate was rising. Who the hell could they be talking about?
Jade, meanwhile, had the world's biggest grin on his face. He glanced at Azul, enjoying watching him mentally spiral. This was about to get good.
The interviewer pressed on, eyes practically sparkling. “Sounds like someone really special! Care to drop a hint for us?”
You laughed, a sound that made Azul’s pulse spike for entirely different reasons. “I don’t know if I should,” you teased. “But I guess I could say... they’ve been by my side every step of the way.”
Azul nearly dropped his clipboard. Wait, wait, wait. No way. No, it can’t be… Me? His mind was in chaos. There was no possible way, right?
Azul could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. His thoughts were racing at a million miles per hour. No, they’re definitely just being vague for the media. It’s probably all for the image... right?
Jade leaned over and whispered, loud enough for Azul to hear. “Sounds like they’re talking about someone we know, don’t you think?”
Azul shot him a panicked look. “It’s definitely not me,” he hissed. “They’re just... being friendly. It’s purely platonic. Definitely platonic.”
Jade’s smirk deepened. “If you say so.”
But the more confident you looked, the more Azul found himself spiraling. Your calm, collected attitude was doing something to him, stirring something deeper in his chest that he refused to acknowledge. Why were you so relaxed about this? Were you toying with the media for fun, or... were you serious?
Jade was, by now, thoroughly entertained, watching as Azul’s thoughts clearly spiraled. “Azul,” he said with mock seriousness, “I do believe you might need some water. You’re looking a little pale.”
Azul shot him a glare that could’ve frozen a lake. “I’m fine. They’re just being... vague.”
Jade hummed, unconvinced but highly amused.
But before Azul could continue to stew in his confusion, the interviewer asked the golden question. “So, this person... Is it someone from your current circle? Perhaps a certain... manager?”
Your smile widened. “Oh, absolutely. They’re in my circle. In fact... It is my manager.”
Azul’s heart skipped about six beats. He stared at you in complete shock, the world around him tilting slightly. No...
The interviewer gasped dramatically. “Your manager?! Really?”
"Yep," you replied breezily. "They’ve always been there for me, handling my career, keeping me on track... Honestly, I wouldn’t have come this far without them."
Azul's brain short-circuited. They’re talking about me... Wait, no. Maybe they mean it in a purely professional sense. Yeah. That’s got to be it. This is all just... a misunderstanding.
The interviewer was ecstatic. “That’s so sweet! So, you really admire them, huh?”
You met the interviewer’s gaze, your tone softening slightly. “Yeah... I do. A lot.”
Azul was trying very, very hard not to combust. His hands were shaking slightly, and Jade noticed, elbowing him with a wicked grin. “Still think it’s platonic, Azul?”
“I—” Azul stammered. “They... They must mean it... as a friend. Nothing more.”
Jade chuckled. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
The interview finally wrapped up, but the damage was done. You were trying not to laugh as you rejoined Azul and Jade, who were both staring at you with very different expressions. Jade looked like he was about to burst from the sheer amusement of it all, while Azul… Azul looked like he was desperately trying to figure out how to delete your entire existence from the timeline.
“Why did you—?” Azul started, but you just patted his arm, snickering.
“Oh, come on, Azul. Don’t worry so much. It’s not a big deal.”
“Not a big deal?!” he practically screeched. “You just told the world you have feelings for me!”
“Yeah, and?” You shrugged nonchalantly, finding his distress far too entertaining. “Everyone’s gonna find out sooner or later.”
Azul ran his hands through his hair, clearly nearing a full-blown meltdown. “They’re going to think we’re… we’re together! People are going to start making assumptions! What if it affects your career? What if—”
Jade clapped him on the shoulder. “What if you stop panicking and actually consider that maybe… just maybe… they meant what they said?”
Azul was about to protest again when your phone buzzed. You checked it and burst out laughing. “Oh man, Azul, you’ve gotta see this.”
“NOOOO, THEY’RE IN LOVE???” “Who’s Azul and why haven’t we seen them kiss yet??” “Okay, but like… I can’t even be mad, this guy is hot.” “I’m crying… I thought I had a chance 😭” “Azul? More like A-zuuulooooove 🥲” “Wait, isn’t he their manager? Damn, that’s hot.” “I SHIP IT SO HARD!!!” “Okay but let’s be real, they’re glowing lately, so Azul is probably good for them.” “I demand photos of them with this Azul!!! I need to see if he’s worthy!!” “AZUL IS LUCKY AF.” “I thought I was delusional, but NOPE, IT’S REAL!!!” “Lmfao, this is straight out of a K-drama. Is Azul secretly a billionaire?”
Azul just groaned, covering his face again. “I’m going to die.”
You patted his back with a grin. “Nah, you’ll be fine. Just think about all the fans you’re getting now.”
Jade was chuckling beside him. “Oh, I’m sure he’s enjoying this. Internally, he’s probably quite flattered.”
Azul just muttered something incomprehensible, which you chose to interpret as agreement.
All in all, it was probably the most entertaining interview of your life—though for poor Azul, it might have been the most traumatic.
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It was supposed to be a routine day on set—a quick shoot, a few lines, and some light action. Nothing out of the ordinary. But of course, that was the day everything went wrong.
You hadn’t even realized anything was amiss at first. Just a small slip while rehearsing a particularly tricky scene. Sure, you scraped your knee, but it wasn’t exactly life-threatening. You shrugged it off as no big deal.
Except it was a big deal to Azul. Because the moment Floyd let slip that you had taken a “gnarly fall,” Azul exploded onto the set like he was auditioning for a telenovela himself.
The door to your dressing room burst open, and there he stood, eyes wide with horror. “You’ve been injured?!”
Before you could even respond, he was at your side, grabbing your hand and scanning you over with frantic intensity. “Where? Where does it hurt? Are you bleeding? Do we need an ambulance?”
“It’s just a scratch—”
“A scratch?! Scratches can get infected! We need antiseptics, bandages—perhaps we should take you to a hospital just in case!” Azul’s voice climbed higher with every word, his panic spiraling out of control.
Floyd, who was leaning against the doorframe, grinned mischievously. “Oh, it was brutal, boss. They were practically airborne, soaring through the air like a majestic seagull—”
“Floyd!” you interrupted, shooting him a glare. “I slipped, and my foot barely left the ground.”
“Details, details,” Floyd said, waving his hand dismissively. “But Azul’s right, you know. Maybe we should call in a medevac.”
Azul’s hands were now fluttering uselessly around your arms, his normally cool demeanor shattered into a thousand frantic pieces. “You could have a concussion! A torn ligament! Internal bleeding! We should get a full-body scan—what if this jeopardizes your career?”
You sighed, feeling both exasperated and oddly touched by his theatrics. “Azul, it’s a scraped knee. I’ll survive.”
But he wasn’t hearing it. “No, no, no. You don’t understand! This industry is cutthroat! We can’t risk even the slightest injury—what if this compromises your ability to walk in heels for a scene? Or worse, what if—"
Finally, you'd had enough. With one swift motion, you grabbed the lapels of his pristine suit and yanked him down to your level. Then, without hesitation, you pressed your lips to his.
Azul froze like someone had just poured a bucket of ice water over his head. His eyes went wide, his hands hovering in the air for a moment before slowly settling on your arms. You held the kiss for a few seconds, long enough for him to stop his rambling.
When you pulled back, Azul blinked, looking dazed and utterly bewildered. “Wha—what was that for?” he stammered, his cheeks flushed pink.
You couldn’t help but laugh at the expression on his face. “To shut you up. Honestly, you’re being ridiculous. It’s just a scratch, and I’m fine.”
“But—” he began, only to stop short when he noticed the faint smile on your face. Slowly, he let out a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing a little. “I… may have overreacted.”
“You think?” you teased, still holding onto his suit.
Azul cleared his throat, straightening his posture, though he couldn’t quite meet your eyes. “Well, I suppose I was a bit... concerned,” he admitted, his voice softer now, more vulnerable.
You raised an eyebrow. “A bit?”
His lips quirked up in a sheepish smile. “Fine, more than a bit.”
The two of you stayed like that for a moment, Azul still holding you close, his earlier panic replaced by a gentle fondness. “You really scared me,” he said quietly, his fingers brushing against your arm in a rare display of tenderness.
You softened at his words, letting go of his suit and resting your hand on his. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you so much.”
Azul exhaled, the tension finally melting away from his shoulders. “Well,” he said, his usual confidence slowly returning, “I suppose I’ll forgive you. But only if you promise to be more careful.”
You smirked. “I’ll try. But no more medical emergencies, okay?”
Azul gave you a soft smile, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your arm. “Agreed.”
Azul still had a hand resting on your arm when Floyd finally disappeared, but the mood shifted slightly, the weight of the moment sinking in. He glanced at you, and though the frantic energy had dissipated, there was still something lingering in his eyes—a hint of hesitation.
You decided to go for it.
“Azul,” you began, your voice soft yet steady, “there’s something I need to tell you.”
He blinked at you, his brows furrowing in concern. “You’re not seriously injured, are you? I knew we should’ve gotten a doctor—”
“No, Azul, it’s not about that,” you cut him off gently, grabbing his hand again to keep him from spiraling. “It’s… about us.”
That got his attention. His body stiffened, and his eyes widened a fraction. “Us?” he repeated, like he’d never heard the word before.
You took a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest. “I didn’t want to say anything at first because I thought you were delibrately ignoring my confession. But I think… I’ve fallen for you.”
For a solid three seconds, Azul just stared at you. Not a blink. Not a twitch. It was like his entire brain had momentarily short-circuited. “Fallen for me?” he echoed slowly, like he was trying to translate a foreign language in his head. “You’re in love with me?”
“Yeah, that’s kind of what I said,” you teased lightly, though your pulse quickened. “What, is it really so hard to believe?”
Azul swallowed hard, his voice still unusually shaky. “I—well—yes, actually.”
You raised an eyebrow, half-expecting a quip or a deflection. “Why’s that?”
Azul suddenly seemed more flustered than when he thought you needed an ambulance. “I just assumed—well, this whole time I thought… I mean, I thought it was more of a… situationship,” he admitted, his voice dropping lower with each word, like he was embarrassed to even say it. “A temporary thing. Surely you couldn’t actually… love me.”
You let out a small laugh, though it was more affectionate than amused. “You’re really selling yourself short, Azul.”
He stared at you like he was still processing the information, eyes wide and blinking rapidly. “But I’m not… I mean, you could have someone better,” he mumbled, suddenly very interested in the floor.
You rolled your eyes, exasperated and endeared all at once. “Oh my god, Azul. You’re smart, funny, successful, and you care more than you let on. Why do you think I’ve stuck around this long?”
Azul’s cheeks were bright red by now, his lips parting slightly in a way that made him look like a fish out of water. “You… love me.” He repeated again, this time softer, almost like he was afraid to say it too loudly in case it turned out to be a joke.
You couldn’t help but laugh at how flabbergasted he looked. “Yes, Azul. I love you.”
He let out a breath he didn’t seem to realize he was holding, and for a moment, he just stood there, completely silent, his expression one of shock mixed with… something else. Something deeper, like a weight had finally been lifted off his shoulders.
Then, out of nowhere, his hands tightened on your arms, and before you could react, he pulled you into his chest in a sudden, desperate hug. His grip was so tight you were sure he was never going to let go.
“I-I love you, too,” he said, voice muffled against your hair. “I didn’t know how to say it… I thought you’d want something… less complicated than me.”
You smiled, pressing your face into his chest and letting the warmth of his embrace wash over you. “You’re more than worth the complications, Azul.”
His arms loosened just enough to pull back and look at you, eyes glistening just a little, his expression softer than you’d ever seen. “I can’t believe this,” he murmured, almost in disbelief. “I thought—well, I thought you’d tire of me.”
You wiped away a stray tear that had slipped from his eye, your heart swelling. “I don’t think I ever could, even if I tried.”
For a moment, he looked like he might cry again, but he quickly blinked it away, clearing his throat as he attempted to regain some composure. “You’re sure you’re not concussed? Perhaps this is the result of head trauma…”
You laughed, swatting his shoulder playfully. “I’m sure.”
Azul cracked a smile, though he still looked a bit overwhelmed. “Well… I suppose this changes everything.”
Before you could respond, the door creaked open again, and Floyd poked his head in with a devilish grin. “Sooo, I guess I should cancel that medevac, huh?”
Azul groaned, but this time it was more out of exasperated affection than anything else. “Floyd…”
Floyd snickered, winking at you as he sauntered in. “Aww, look at you two, all lovey-dovey. Makes me wanna puke.”
You rolled your eyes. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
Floyd grinned wider. “Nah, I think I’ll stick around. Never know when you might trip and need mouth-to-mouth.”
Azul threw a water bottle at him. “Out!”
Floyd dodged it easily, laughing as he slipped back out the door, leaving the two of you alone again.
Azul sighed, shaking his head, though there was a faint smile on his lips. “He’s never going to let us live this down, is he?”
“Nope, and neither is Jade.” you said, grinning. “But that’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”
Azul looked at you, his gaze soft and warm. “Together.”
“So,” you said after a moment, pulling away just enough to look up at him, “now that we’ve got that sorted, how about we go celebrate? Dinner? Something fancy?”
Azul’s eyes gleamed with excitement, the business side of him flickering to life. “I happen to know a very exclusive place. The best seafood in town, I assure you.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Seafood? After the whole shark tank incident?”
Azul blinked before laughing, realizing the irony. “Alright, maybe something more… neutral.”
And as you glanced at Azul, his hand warm and secure in yours, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, the universe had thrown you into this crazy situation for a reason. After all, who else could say their manager turned out to be the love of their life?
Azul Ashengrotto, the shark in a suit, was all yours.
And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.
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Masterlist
Okay the azul brainrot was real here, it went from 1k to 2k and i then suddenly was committed to a 10k fic Fun fact: The hay witch thing came from a movie idea that my friends and i came up with while being completely wasted.
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