#hats off to whoever knows where this scene comes from

[tadc-harlequin-au]

What the 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓀, Caine

[pasukiyo]

DRUNK ON YOU

journalist!anakin skywalker x f!ice skater!reader word count; 4,344 warnings; unprotected p in v sex, verbal and physical abuse from an ice skating coach?, anakin may or may not be following reader idk who knows!! summary; ice skating has been her life for as long as she can remember. she's not sure why her head hasn't been in it lately, and her coach certainly has something to say about it. thank god the cute and awkward journalist anakin was there though, right?

 “Have you forgotten how to land a fuckin’ axel?”

 Cold bit into her palms and pain flared up the muscles of her thigh as she pushed herself onto her knees, lips agape as she panted. She’d fallen so hard, bile was beginning to brew at the base of her throat, burning the pipe. 

 “Hey, are you even fuckin’ listening to me?”

 Her hands were starting to numb and she should really get herself up off the ice. She was creating a scene— although this was a private lesson, she knew there still remained one man in the stands, one who she could see’s gaze fleeting back and forth between her and the ground from her periphery. Normally, she’d care enough about her dignity to get herself up as if nothing had ever happened. 

 But she was just so tired, so frustrated. Her legs hurt like hell, her feet feeling like they’d pop off any moment now. And her son of a bitch of a coach’s voice was really starting to irritate her. 

 “Hey!” Speaking of her coach, she was skating her way, deep rouge lips pursed in vexation. Her eyelids fluttered themselves closed as she sighed, rolling her head back to hang towards the ground below. 

 Finally, she pushed herself off the ice, wiping her palms against her leggings and the moment she opened her eyes, her coach was in her face, fingers that weren’t her own tangled in the hair on the back of her head. She pressed her lips together to stifle any sound that may come out of her mouth, a sharp exhale still sneaking its way past her nostrils as her coach tugged on the tendrils she had between her fingers, angling her face so that she had to look up at her. 

“Where the fuck is your head, huh?” Her coach practically spat in her face, lips curling in disgust. “We’ve a competition in one week and you’re here actin’ like a goddamn fool,” she hissed. “You like embarrassing me?”

 She said nothing, her eyelids narrowing as she stared back at the stormy irises of her coach. Her coach sniffed and leaned away, recognizing the narrowing of her eyes for what it was— a challenge. 

 “You wanna embarrass me here, kid?” Her coach said after a long moment of silence. “Fine. But trust me,” she stepped closer, too close to ensure she could look down at her student. “You don’t wanna fuck around and find out what happens if you try me out there.”

 “You’re the one embarrassing yourself,” she spat in a low, hushed whisper in retaliation, glancing towards the stands where the man watched alone, a notepad clutched in one hand and a pen in the other. His head was bent down towards the notepad but even from here, she could make out the way he stared from between his top lashes, the bill of his navy hat casting a shadow over his face.

 A journalist, she guessed. 

 Her coach whipped around to face whoever it was she was referring to, dropping the fistful of hair she had in her claw-like grip just moments before. Relief washed over her as the pain at her scalp finally began to subside and she rubbed her palms over her elbows as she watched her coach skate her way to the exit of the ice where the man sat, glancing away from his notes when her coach’s voice thundered through the rink.

 “Who the fuck are you?” Her coach asked as she, too, began to skate her way towards the stands, her bag only a few seats away from where the man sat. As she approached, the man glanced her way, the dark blue waves in his irises crashing into her own. 

 For a moment, all was silent and for a moment, she couldn’t bring herself to tear her gaze away from his. There was something so… alluring about him. He wore round glasses and a navy Puma hat, locks of dark blonde hair peeking out from the sides, just above his ears. His stare was dark, like a raging sea on a gray, stormy day. The longer she stared, the more she felt like she was drowning, as if she were astray at sea, helplessly fighting against the crashing waves. 

 His gaze dropped from her eyes to her lips and she felt herself flush, forcing her eyes away from him so that she could make her way over to her bag and get the hell out of here. 

 “Hey!” Her coach yelled again. “Did you hear me? Who are you and what the fuck are you doing here? This is a private lesson.”

 She huffed as she sat herself down onto the seat beside her bag, leaning down to unlace her skates, sighing in relief when she pulled the first one off her feet. 

 “Just taking notes,” the man replied simply and she turned until she could see them out of her periphery, watching as the man held his notepad up for her coach to see. “Notes?” Her coach questioned in a scoff as she tugged her other skate off her feet, her lips falling open in a soft gasp as she stretched out her toes and rolled her ankles. “What? You some perv or something?”

 “No ma’am. I write for the New Repub–”

 ‘I don’t give a shit who you write for, you realize you’re trespassing on a private lesson?” Her coach raised a hand to interrupt him. “That girl over there has a competition in a week and I won’t let some lowlife reporter let it spill that my client is incompetent enough to not know how to land a fuckin’ axle!”

 Her eyes rolled in their sockets at this as she slipped her socks on over her feet, tugging her boots on over them. She rummaged in her bag for her hoodie and stood as she pulled it on over her head, slinging the strap of her bag over her shoulder.

 “Relax, coach,” she cut through the argument as she approached, willing herself to not make eye contact with the man as he turned to look at her. “Besides, with the shit you just pulled, I’m surprised my axel is at the top of your priority list.”

 Her coach parted her lips, a remark surely on the tip of her tongue but when the man turned back to raise an eyebrow at her, she closed her mouth and huffed as she skated away towards the other side of the rink’s stands where her own bag was. 

 For a few prolonged moments, silence fell between her and the man still sat beside her, and it wasn’t until he rose from his seat and cleared his throat that she allowed herself to look at him again.

 “Sorry for causing such a scene,” he said at last, ducking his head so that their eyes could meet once more. She rolled her bottom lip between her teeth and shook her head just as she felt color begin to warm her cheeks once again. “Sorry about… her,” she replied, gesturing towards where her coach was angrily tearing her skates off her feet across the ice. 

 “Yeah, she’s…”

 “A bitch.”

 “Well…” the man rubbed the back of his neck, slapping his notepad down against his thigh with the other. “Yeah.”

 She glanced down to his notepad against his jean-clad thigh, tilting her head curiously. “You doing a story on me or something?” She asked, daring to look back up at him. Color rushed to his cheeks and he turned to stare off into space, as if it had the answers he couldn’t quite seem to form on his tongue. 

 “Um, well I…” he stammered before dropping his head in defeat. “Sort of?”

 She raised a brow at this, suddenly wary of the man before her. She was quick to let his looks fool her into thinking this man could be harmless when in reality, he could very well be far from it. He was alone, intruding in on a private skating lesson after all, taking notes on who knows what. 

 “What’s that supposed to mean?” She questioned, her wariness evident in her tone. He must’ve picked up on this and sighed in defeat, a nervous smile tugging at a corner of his lips.

 “Listen, I’m a journalist for the New Republic magazine and I was at your competition working on a story last week and I…” he trailed off, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth as if contemplating his next words. “I was really intrigued by you.”

 She nodded, understanding finally washing over her. “Ah. So you’ve been following me.”

 The man’s pink lips parted and closed and repeated, and she fought the grin tugging at the corners of her lips. “Well no. Yes. Maybe? Ugh, I’m…” the man’s chest heaved as he drew in a breath, holding his free hand out for her to take. “I’m Anakin. And I haven’t been following you. You know, not in a creepy way.”

 Amusement finally got the best of her and she chuckled, allowing her smile to take over her mouth as she took his hand, warmth pooling into her skin. “Nice to meet you, Anakin. I’m not sure if I’m fully convinced that you haven’t been following me but I’m finding this really amusing so I’ll let it slide. For now.”

 Anakin chuckled nervously and smiled, white teeth peeking through the space between his lips. Her breath hitched in her throat at this and their eyes met once again, seemingly stealing the breath from her lungs. 

 He was… beautiful.

 She wondered if this man really had been following her over the course of the past week. Certainly she would’ve noticed him had he been stalking her before, right?

 The longer she stared at the man called Anakin before her, the more she wished to convince herself that he was harmless, that there couldn’t possibly be anything nefarious or sinister behind such a gorgeous smile. But when she found herself being sucked into the waters of that raging sea in his sockets like his voice was a siren song and his eyes were a wild, angry sea, she realized that maybe she wouldn’t care, so long as he looked at her like that.

 “What if I could convince you over some dinner on me?”

 It was safe to say that dinner went well.

 Too well.

 Ridiculously well.

 His hands were all over her as their mouths ravaged one another, hardly making it inside his apartment before she was pressed against the door, the thin straps of her dress falling loose down her shoulders. Anakin’s palms were pressed against the small of her back, the other firm and gripping onto the hair at the back of her head. Unlike when her coach had snatched her hair only the day before, Anakin tugged with enough pressure to have her mewling for more. 

 Her hands were entangled in the dark blonde curls atop of his head as his tongue demanded control over hers, his kiss making her feel weak in the knees before his lips trailed down to her jaw, to her chin, to her neck.

 She gasped when he nibbled on the space between her neck and shoulder, his name falling in a breathy whimper from her lips. His mouth kissed and sucked marks down to her chest where the tops of her breasts were spilling from over the hem of her dress. Anakin growled as he reached behind her to tug furiously at her zipper, tugging the dress down her body until it could pool in a puddle of fabric at her feet. 

 “Ana… Anakin!” She moaned as he unclasped her bra with one hand, tearing the glasses away from his face and tossing them into the wall beside them with the other. Neither were in the rind headspace to even care for the more than likely cracked frames as Anakin drew her back into his body, his mouth attaching to her nipple, her head falling backwards in ecstasy. She could feel the curve of his grin when she gasped as he nipped at the sensitive bud, guiding her back towards his bedroom with his hand against the small of her back, his mouth never once leaving her breast.

 It wasn’t long until she was nude and exposed on the plush of his mattress, blinking up at him as he stared down at her through hooded eyelids, tugging his shirt up and over his head. She eyed the defined lines of his chest and stomach as he breathed, working at the buckle of his pants and discarding it across the room, his pants falling loose down his legs. Her heart thud against her chest in anticipation as he crept his way onto the bed above her, hovering over her like a looming predator.

 She looked into the depths of his deep blue eyes now and was completely lost, blinded with libido, with the want for the man above her. “Please Anakin,” she whimpered, a hand slithering around to cup the back of his neck, desperate to bring their lips together once again. She couldn’t quite reach, unfortunately, but his breath was still warm against her face and she could still make out the outline of his smile against her mouth.

 When she opened her eyes again, his own were somehow a shade darker than they were before, the sweaty blonde curls damp against his forehead making his face darker than the shadows already made him out to be. He was beautiful, yes, but he was dark, and an enigma. Through the haze of her mind, however, she couldn’t quite bring herself to figure him out. She wasn’t even sure she cared right now. All she cared about was the feel of his skin against hers, the feel of his hard length against her thigh, the way he was staring at her now as if she were his last meal. It was impossible to think rationally when such a man wanted her the way she wanted him.

 “I’ve dreamed of this,” he whispered, bowing his head so that their lips were touching nut not quite, at least, not in the way she was wanting. “Anakin,” she panted his name again, a hand against the curve of his shoulder, the other tangled in the hair on the nape of his neck. She was so wet and she could feel it, could feel the evidence of her lust as it streamed down her folds, creating a pool on the duvet below. “Please,” she whispered again, her gaze surging into his, her brows furrowing in hopes to coax him inside of her. 

 Anakin took his time. He pulled his face away just enough to take a long look down her body, his hand not supporting himself on the mattress tracing a line up and down the curve of her waist, of her hips, the crease between her thigh and torso. She gasped when the tip of his finger came so close to where she was throbbing for him but yet again, not quite. 

 He was teasing her now, as if playing with his food.

 She could practically feel tears stinging the outskirts of her sockets, every ache in her muscles screaming for him, every throb she felt in her core pleading with him to just touch her. Anakin cooed when his gaze found hers once again, shushing her and using the edge of his forefinger to wipe away the tears that had leaked from the edges of her eyes. 

 “I can’t believe you want this as much as I do,” he whispered as if in awe. “You know, the second I saw you, you had just stepped onto the ice and all I could think was wow. And then you started doing all those tricks and shit that I can’t even wrap my head around and I knew that all I wanted was you. I didn’t care how much or how long it would take, all I wanted to have was you.”

 If Anakin hadn’t been dipping his hand in between her legs and brushing the tips of his fingers against her swollen clit, she might’ve had the sense to stop and really consider the meaning behind his words. With every stroke of his fingers up and down her folds and against her aching bud, he was reducing her mind to slime, turning each and every single one of her thoughts into nothing but putty. He was possessing every inch of her as if he were a parasite, as if he were doing some sort of mind trick on her, like he had her under some kind of trance.

 And when he dipped a single finger past the barrier between her folds, she couldn’t quite bring herself to care.

 Her back arched off of the bed and her lips fell apart in a gasp, Anakin watching in awe as she mewled and squirmed beneath him. He ducked until his nose was against the crook of her neck, breathing her in like a vapor, letting her fill in his every sense. He was drunk on her, on the way she looked, the way she breathed, the way she smelled. She was just so beautiful, and now she was his.

 “I couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to have you,” he whispered as he added another finger inside of her, his other hand kneading at her breast. “Every time I went to bed, I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he said, leaning down until his lips were against the shell of her ear. “I couldn’t stop touching myself thinking about you.”

 She whimpered again when he added a third finger, pressing his lips against her ear before leaning away, kissing her jaw before pulling away altogether. She whined at the loss of his digits inside of her and Anakin watched as her cunt pulsed and throbbed with the yearn for him. He was aching for her as well, maybe even more than she was for hin. His cock was so hard it was beginning to feel painful, having edged himself for so long.

 But he could let go now. He had her. He had her right where he wanted her all along.

 Anakin leaned down to press his lips against hers and she eagerly drank him in like wine, mewling against his lips. He could feel the mix of her sweat and tears against his face, and he smiled against her mouth again. 

 And he let a hand trail down between their bodies until his hand was wrapped around his length, giving himself one solid pump. Then, with one snap of his hips, they were one.

 She cried out in bliss as he entered her, back arching off of the mattress, her chest heaving into his as he sheathed himself inside her. Anakin pressed his lips together and grunted, wrapping his arms around her body to hold her close to him as his eyes rolled into the back of his head, throwing his head back in pleasure as he savored how good she felt wrapped around him. 

 Perfect, everything about her was simply perfect and made for him. He couldn’t believe he hadn't found her sooner, that she was the one he was waiting for all of his life. This was what he’d always needed– this girl underneath him, wanting him, wrapped around him, burning for him. There was no way in hell he was going to let her go now that he had her. 

 “Ana–!” She cried. “Anakin!” She barely managed to choke out the rest of his name when he snapped his hips against her again. She was just so full, so overstimulated that she couldn’t even form a single coherent thought. 

 Ice skating came like second nature to her. It’d been that way for as long as she could remember. But she swore, if you asked her to do anything now, she wouldn;t even know how to begin. All she could think was Anakin, Anakin, Anakin. He’d somehow found a way to put her under his full control until she was reduced down to nothing more than a mindless zombie for him. 

 “Oh… fuck,” Anakin cursed beneath his breath, using his hands against the mattress as leverage to stare down between their bodies where they were connected. His cock glistened with a mixture of their juices and oh, his mouth watered for a taste. He reached down until his fingertips were against her clit, her toes curling at the pressure and she cried out when he dipped his fingers inside of her for the briefest of moments to gather their mixture. 

 Anakin’s mouth was practically watering, fuck, he was drooling by the time he finally brought his fingers to his lips, moaning and his eyes rolling when their mixed arousals coated his tongue. “Fuck,” he moaned again once he had finally licked his fingers clean, snapping his hips before wrapping a hand around the base of her neck. “Come here.”

 He met her halfway so that their lips could crash against one another and she hummed into his mouth when she tasted both of them, following his lips when he pulled away. 

 “Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted,” he murmured, grabbing a handful of her hips with one hand and reaching forward to grasp onto the headboard with the other. “I can’t wait to taste you once you’ve come.”

 Her eyes were rolling into the back of her head as Anakin pistoned his cock inside of her, quick to find that spot deep inside of her that had her seeing stars. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been fucked like this– no, she’d never been fucked like this. No man had ever been able to make her feel the way Anakin made her feel now, she knew that for certain. No man had ever been able to make her dumb to the point of no return, to make her so drunk on their cock that she couldn’t form a coherent though other than their name. No, only Anakin had ever made her feel like this. 

 Anakin thrusted into her again and again and again, ravaging her body like his life absolutely depended on it. There was something animalistic about the way he fucked her, something territorial as if this were the beginning of something she couldn’t quite wrap her head around at this moment. Not when she was so close that even Anakin could feel it, could feel it in the way she pulsed and throbbed around him. He gripped onto the headboard harder as leverage to give her everything he had, the bedframe making noises so loud that it was a miracle it hadn’t broken yet. 

 She was almost there. She was so close that she could already taste it, could already see it. She closed her eyes until she was submerged into a dark, seemingly endless tunnel. But there, off in the distance but approaching at rapid speed was a white, blinding light that she knew was her orgasm. She began to race towards it, meeting it halfway until they crashed together like a supernova, her back arching off the bed, her toes curling, fingernails clasping around Anakin’s wrists and burrowing deep. 

 Tears fell like rivers down the sides of her face as she thrashed, feeling so full and satisfied and overstimulated that she couldn’t take it anymore.

 “Oh shit, oh fuck,” Anakin panted, his thrusts sloppier but still as forceful as ever. “Almost there, almost there, almost the– fuck!” He growled as he bottomed out with a single forceful thrust, spilling himself into her. She could feel rope after rope of his seed bursting inside of her and her vision blurred until all she could see was watercolor. She barely even registered the moment Anakin’s cock slipped out from inside of her and he kissed a trail down her body until his mouth was ravaging her sore, fucked out cunt. 

 She cried as she gathered a fistful of the duvet below, squeezing her eyelids shut, her head rolling until her cheek was flush with the mattress. Anakin’s tongue swirled inside of her as if he were hunting for every last drop of her spend and her eyelids fluttered open, her vision murky with bliss. She blinked away the blurriness as much as she could, making out photos on the wall beside his bed that somewhere in the back of her mind, she felt like she’d seen before.

 It was hard to focus when Anakin was practically digging another orgasm out of her with his tongue but she zeroed in on one of the photographs, recognizing it as one of her from a competition she had done months ago. Her eyes darted to another, all of her, her at competitions that she’d done more than just a week ago, but some of her out and about on the street, at the grocery store, at the bar just a few blocks away from her apartment. 

 She wasn’t sure where these photos came from– she’d never seen any of these specific ones before anywhere. It meant that Anakin had to have been the one to have taken them but surely this wasn’t true– he said he’d only found her a week prior to her being fucked on his bed, didn’t he?

 “Taste so fucking good,” Anakin purred against her pussy, hooking his arms around her thighs and burying his face in even closer. Her heart was pounding against her chest at the realization that even despite her horror, she couldn’t tear herself away from Anakin. Maybe he really did have her under some sort of mind trick, some kind of trance. Maybe she really was drowning, falling into that raging sea in his eyes with no hope of ever resurfacing. 

 She knew how wrong it was, how disgusting it was, but it didn’t matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t help but reach down until her fingers were woven in the dark blonde curls on his head, pulling him in even closer to her throbbing heat. 

a/n; so hey! i've had this sitting around unfinished in my drafts for, like, ever and i finally just now got around to finishing it lol so sorry for not having been active! as some of you may know, i've been working on a book for the past couple of months on top of being in college and having a job so i've been pretty busy lately! i hope you all don't mind and still enjoyed this one nonetheless 🤭

TAGLIST;

@your-nanas-house

@chaoticevilbakugo

@k1ttenmittonz

[catlvrmax]

RACE DAY & NIGHTCLUBS.

MV1 X FEM!READER

summary it's race day! you and amara decide to spend your sunday night out in the city. you make new friends in the process.

cw ONE use of [Y/N] - it was inevitable. idk the deets of how f1 works exactly, but i tried. this is a work of fiction: i don't know these people irl, i don't know how they act. NON-DESCRIPTIVE READER.

face claims girls on pinterest, but you can obviously disregard them, and imagine whoever you want. (the pictures are for aesthetic purposes.)

a/n i feel like the alonso scene is kinda useless but idk i put it in ite.

masterlist | taglist

—

"I'm so excited!" Amara squealed as you grabbed her wrist to keep her close.

Today is race day. You woke up early, buzzing with anticipation. Amara tried to (poorly) contain her excitement and constant giggles until you had at least one cup of coffee in your system but failed ten minutes into breakfast. You don't blame her—she loves the sport.

She also loves the drivers. Loves the gossip and the drama on and off track. A new thing she has picked up, one you really want to put a stop to, is teasing you about a certain Dutchman. It was already bad enough that your conversation kept replaying in your head, and her playful teasing increased the thoughts of the two-time world champion.

You tolerated it on the walk to the circuit, rolling your eyes at her dreamy sighs and romantic scenarios, which she mostly made up to annoy you but changed the subject as you approached your destination. You refused to look or sound like a crazy fangirl in case... well, in case of actually running into him.

Arriving at the circuit and checking in the paddock had been a nightmare. You and Amara were not huge fans of crowded places you more than her, and the heat of the sun beating down on you made it ten times worse. Alas, you finally found yourselves away from the masses and around the corner of the Aston Martin hospitality building.

Amara was not paying attention to where she was going, and you were listening intently to the plans for the day. At the last minute, you saw a green shirt from the corner of your eye. You pulled on her wrist, and she stumbled towards you, but not before softly colliding with the side of the tall man in the green shirt.

"Oh, shit. ¡Lo siento, señor!" The apology comes in Spanish. (I am sorry, sir!)

"Esta bien, señorita? I was not looking in my path." You try to catch your jaw from falling to the ground when you eye the Green Shirt Guy. (Are you okay, miss?)

That's Fernando fucking Alonso. Fernando Alonso, the man you may or may not have a tiny crush on, is helping Amara stand up after she bent over to grab her discarded water bottle.

"Ah, si. Lo siento, señor Alonso. Estaba mostrando a mi amiga alrededor—"

"It's you from yesterday, no?! The girl with the great, uh, Spanish skills!" He talks to her as if they've known each other for years.

You stand there stunned, trying to compose yourself as your F1 crush stands before you, casually conversing with your best friend. Amara must be ready to explode right about now. You would laugh if you weren't fighting the urge to scream and run around from the joy.

You hear your name fall from Amara's lips, and your gaze focuses back on them. "That's my best friend. I gave her the hat!"

Fernando nods, his gaze on you as a polite smile causes his dimples to appear. You show him the signed Aston Martin cap by tilting your head.

"Amara said you are a big fan. I appreciate it. Do you want to take a photograph?"

"Uh-Yeah! Yeah, I'd love to!" You take your phone out. Oh-em-gee. Oh-em-gee. Is this really happening? "It's nice to meet you, sir!" You can feel the heat radiating off your cheeks.

Fernando, being taller than you, asks for your phone. He raises it above your head and takes a couple of selfies. You muster the brightest smile, copying his funny faces and poses. When he hands it back, thank yous stumble from your lips faster than any car on the grid.

"Mucha suerte para ti hoy!" (Best of luck to you today!)

Fernando laughs but bows his head in appreciation. "Muchas gracias, querida." He turns to Amara, who's watching you both with a smile. "Enjoy the race, girls!"

And with that, he's walking away. You and Amara stand still for a few seconds, watching him disappear around the corner. You lock eyes, jaws on the floor. Squeals escape the both of you as you grab each other for support.

"Oh, my fucking God! We just—I—You—"

"I talked to Fernando fucking Alonso, and you took a photo with him. Shit!" Her tone betrays her disbelief.

"Oh, pinch me, 'mara, because this can't possibly be fucking real!" You cup your red cheek with one palm. "He remembered you. That's crazy!"

Amara giggles. "We talked in Spanish yesterday, and he told me he was impressed by my fluency!"

You smack her arm, suppressing a smile. "What? Why didn't you tell me all of that!? From past experiences, your Spanish has been shit."

She gasps dramatically, feigning offence. "How dare you, missy?! My Spanish is almost perfect. I just happened to get nervous around native speakers!"

You laugh and raise your hands in surrender, muttering my bad. Amara links her elbow with yours. "Are you ready to watch twenty cars go in weird-shaped circles?"

"Yup," you answer, popping the p before pulling her towards the building you will be watching from. "He is hotter in person." You cannot help but add.

Amara rolls her eyes but hums in agreement.

—

"Max Verstappen wins the Spanish Grand Prix! Another flawless performance by the current World Champion!"

You can't help but smile as the camera cuts to his team celebrating. Amara claps in delight, gathering her scattered things from the table to put inside her bag. The VIP room you watched the race from is slowly emptying as everyone walks down to where the celebration will take place. Amara wants to go and get as close as she can to the front, so she can take pictures of the podium. Lewis Hamilton came second, followed by George Russell, and your best friend was beaming and eager to see the podium from up close.

"You don't have to come with me. It's pretty tight there, with the crew, and fans, and stuff." You nod, thankful to her for not forcing you to tag along. "You can wait by the Red Bull hospitality. I think it's closer to the exit." She pauses as you stand from your seat. "And who knows. Maybe a Dutchman will pass by, and you deliver on your plan."

You huff at her wiggling eyebrows. "Seems kind of impossible since Max is celebrating on the podium, 'mara. You have a better chance at meeting him." You snort at her deflated expression.

"Oh, yeah, you're right." She shrugs. "Well, who knows? You might bump into each other again."

"I highly doubt that. Now, give me everything you don't need. I'll put it in my bag. I don't want you losing anything in that crowd."

Amara hands you her handbag and kisses you on the cheek before walking away. You're the only guest in the room now, accompanied by the bartender on the other side of the room. You contemplate staying here or leaving for the Red Bull hospitality. The track fills with fans, as is the ground below the podium. Lewis and George are already there, which means that—

"Here's Max Verstappen, the winner of this year's Spanish Grand Prix." Crofty, the commentator, announces the champion's arrival at the podium's top step.

He looks handsome, with a smile decorating his face and high cheekbones glistening with sweat. He waves at the crowd and takes his Pirelli hat off. His hair is messy, but it just makes him look hotter. Wow. You need to stop, or you'll salivate all over the bloody floor. You turn away from the TV as the Dutch national anthem starts playing.

One thought keeps repeating as you walk out of the building and to the sunny paddock. Max Verstappen is undoubtedly handsome.

—

You're aimlessly pacing in front of the Red Bull building, skipping through the pictures you'd taken. Most of them were of Amara posing in front of different buildings, eating or walking. You don't notice a chest heading your way until it's too late, and you collide. Ouch, you mumble as you rub your forehead.

"We should stop meeting like this." You recognise the voice immediately. How could you not? The man has been plaguing your thoughts.

Your heart is racing. You don't meet Max's eyes at first, hoping that a simple apology will make him walk away. "Oh, sorry. Wasn't paying attention."

"Are you lost again? Do you need help?" Max is quick to offer, but you shake your head negatively.

A hand comes forward, a featherlight touch on your elbow. You finally meet his gaze, rubbing on the spot that stings. What the fuck is he made of? Rock? His eyes hold concern as they rake over your face.

"What are you made of? Rock or something? That stung!" You offer a shy smile and a joke, for his worried expression makes your palms sweat.

He returns the smile. "Hey! You were the one not paying attention."

You shrug. "I was looking through the photos I've taken." You raise the old camera for him to see.

"Oh, yeah? Any cool ones?" He asks, stepping closer to you to see.

You notice a man behind the driver, wearing a Red Bull polo and an impatient expression. Anxiety sparks at your chest. He's got somewhere to be. Leave him alone. "Don't you have media duties to attend? You did just win a race." His smile turns guilty at your words.

"Yeah. I've got to change from this," he points at his racing suit," and attend interviews." He doesn't look too excited to do so.

"Well, then, I shouldn't be keeping you." You move a step back, nervously glancing at the other man.

Max does as well, the flush on his cheeks bolder than before. He opens his mouth, and you watch him have an internal war with himself before he decides to voice whatever thought he has. He motions to the man to go ahead without him. I'll be there in a minute, he mutters.

"I'd love to see those photographs."

Your eyes widen in surprise, and you know you look like a fish as your mouth opens and closes. Your face heats up. "Uh—They're really nothing special. This is an old camera."

Max shrugs. "Why don't you give me your number? I can be the judge of that." Oh, shit. You nod.

He does an immaculate job of looking confident as if this isn't affecting him. A pretty girl agreed to give him his number. It's dangerous for a person with the number of young fans he has to give his phone number to a stranger, but he feels he can trust you. You haven't given him a reason to think you might be a crazy fangirl.

"D'you have a pen? I don't have my phone with me." You nod, rummaging through your handbag to find the emergency glittery pink pen.

Once you pull it out, Max can't help but comment on it. "Nice colour." You send him a playful glare.

He stretches his palm, and you softly pull his fingers closer. You scribble down your number, writing your first and last name underneath it. Max feels remorseful for not even having asked you your name. He knows that you no doubt know who he is now. He repeats it, and your breath hitches. He says it so perfectly, you might melt in a puddle. Caaaaaalm down. You sound insane. He's just stating your name.

"Pretty name," he thinks out loud. You don't believe you were meant to hear that, yet your face grows a shade darker.

Before you can say anything, the man shouts his name from the building's door. "Come on, mate! You're going to be late!" You can see the disappointment Max feels from his deflated smile.

"I have to go. Media duties." You chuckle when he rolls his eyes and nod. "I'll, uh, text you. For the pictures." He takes a step back, eyes locked with yours.

"For the pictures, yeah."

His face is flushed. You blame the race he just won. It's a poor excuse to give someone your number, no matter how famous they might be, yet you did. Amara will have a field day with this information. You half expect her to revive her old Tumblr account for the sake of acting on her scenarios.

"Bye." You wave, and he waves back, exchanging bashful smiles.

You watch his figure approach the man by the door when it hits you. "Oh, Max!" He turns quickly, eyes searching for yours. "Congratulations on your win!"

His eyes crinkle from the smile that he gives you. "Thank you!" He adds your name, and you don't deny it this time; Max Verstappen is extremely handsome, especially when he smiles.

—

MESSAGES: two. From > unknown number.

unknown number

hey, it's Max!

Verstappen. The guy in

the RB shirt.

you

hm... i don't know anyone

with this name. sorry!

max verstappen

Two-time world champion?

you

nope.

never met any world champions

in my life, sorry.

max verstappen

I helped you yesterday

and saw you today outside of

the RB hospitality.

This is [Y/N], right?

you

🤣 yes!

i'm just messing with you max!

max verstappen

*phew* had me thinking you

gave me the wrong number

you

*dramatic gasp*

i am NOT that cruel, mr verstappen!

btw, i havent transferred the photos yet!

camera's charging.

max verstappen

That's totally okay!

Soooo, what are you doing tonight?

you

contemplating whether i should share my

whereabouts with a random man....

max verstappen

HEY! you've met me!

two times already!!!

you

and how do i know this is the REAL

Max Verstappen????????

max verstappen

....you gave me your phone number.

you

oh, yeah. that makes sense.

i'm very sleep deprived haha

max verstappen

😂😂

you

Soooo, what are you doing tonight?

  ↪ to answer your previous question,

me and my bff are going clubbing

in Barcelona!

max verstappen

Oh, that sounds fun!

you

i'm secretly terrified of getting lost

in the city, but hey! i'm only here for another

night. might as well have fun

plus, i've heard Spaniards party hard!!!!!

max verstappen

plus, i've heard Spaniards party hard!!!!!

   ↪ THAT'S TRUE. Carlos is an

expert in all things nightclub when we're

here for the GP

you

you have any places to recommend?

amara is still looking on trip advisor

max verstappen

😨 TRIP ADVISOR?

you

WELL WE HAD TO START SOMEWHERE

max verstappen

the Vault is a really great place. Great

drinks and the DJ plays nice songs.

You should try that one!

you

i'm guessing it's expensive

as fuck

max verstappen

not as expensive as it is packed

BUT there's always the Disco Diva

and other clubs down that street

you

max verstappen, you know your

clubs, i see.

(the disco diva? really?)

max verstappen

you caught me ahahahahah

(the disco diva? really?)

   ↪ it plays really cool stuff

you

it plays really cool stuff

   ↪ i trust ur judgement.

so what are YOU, race winner, doing

tonight?

max verstappen

how do I know I'm not giving away

my location to a super crazy

fangirl?

you

you dont! YOU wanted MY number.

soooo.... 🤷🏻‍♀️

max verstappen

LOL. you're funny.

so what are YOU, race winner, doing

tonight?

  ↪ I was thinking of gaming, but the

boys want to party.

you

WELL, YAH! you totally deserve to let loose!

max verstappen

Hm, I might think about it.

Ha! Maybe we'll find each other in the club!

you

hahahahah it would be pretty embarrassing

if i ran into you again.

for the third time.

have fun with whatever you choose

to do, Maximus Verstappen.

max verstappen

that is definitely NOT my first name.

but i thank you, schat 😁

seen, now.

—

"Who are you talking to?" Amara asks, her eyes glued on TripAdvisor.

"H-Huh?" You barely register her words, fingers tapping on your screen incredibly fast.

"You've been giggling for, like, ten minutes now. I'm assuming it's not your mom. She's probably having lunch."

"Oh, you know. Just this guy I bumped into today. You might know him. His name's Max. Ma—"

"Fucking Verstappen?!" Amara all but yells, sitting up swiftly.

Your eyes meet her shocked expression, and you can't help the chuckle that escapes at her priceless reaction. You shrug in response, feigning nonchalance. Truth is, your best friend has hyped this guy up a lot, and your poor heart beats somewhat faster now that you're talking to him.

"You told me to get his number, didn't you?"

"W-Well—Yeah. But I didn't actually think you'd do it!"

You gasp as if offended. "You dare think so little of me? Think that I wouldn't honour my promise to feed your delusions?"

Amara laughs, lightly smacking your arm. "Okay, weirdo. Tell me what the fuck happened."

After pushing yourself to a sitting position, you tell her every detail of your second meeting with the world champion, including the texts. Amara's reactions are comical. At the end of your story-telling process, she's sitting there, with her jaw mere inches from touching the ground.

"So, do you think we'll meet him in that nightclub?"

You shrug. "I don't know. He said he'd think about it." You show her your phone, scrolling to the text he had sent you mere minutes ago. "Doesn't sound that eager to me."

"Well, it wouldn't hurt to go by the Vault, or whatever its name was." Amara wiggles her eyebrows.

"Are you trying to get me laid with a celebrity?"

She grimaces. "Pfft. He's hot. You're pretty. If you take out the millions on Instagram—" "—and his bank account." Amara shoots you a pointed look. "He looks like a pretty normal guy." She exhales before continuing. "You should have fun. We didn't come here just for me. And he seems like a lot of fun."

Amara wasn't wrong. Yes, you had come here for the Grand Prix, which was her thing, but there was plenty of time for you to have fun. And if fun meant drinking and meeting with an extremely handsome guy, who were you to refuse? You'd probably never see him again, either.

—

views 96 / views 242

—

"Finally!" You shout excitedly.

After waiting for a solid thirty minutes in a very long line outside of Club Vault and paying an entry fee that you're sure is way too expensive, you have finally made it inside. The place is flooded with people drinking, dancing, and talking. The lights are dim, and the music loud; a promising, fun night.

You barely dodge swaying on the dancefloor as Amara drags you to the bar. She orders for you while you look around. The DJ and his setup is on a balcony, above which there is a VIP sign. You squint your eyes as another face comes into view. Is that...Lando Norris?

You blindly reach for Amara, turning her around by the wrist. "Hey, isn't that Norris?"

Despite the ear-deafening music, you're able to hear your best friend's gasp. "Oh, my fucking God! Yes, that's him!" She looks at you, a knowing smile on her lips. "Does that mean that he's here—"

"I don't know!" The bartender nods at you, showing you your drinks. "Let's drink!"

And that's exactly what you do. Your drinks are cold enough to help with the heat of dancing, and you can't lie, Lando—with the help of the actual DJ—plays decent music. Max was right about the place being fun. Amara is doing her weird dance moves, and you're copying her, trying to best her.

You're two drinks in, back turned to the DJ booth, when your best friend's eyes widen, dance moves faltering, and you hear everybody cheer. She elbows you to turn around, and your breath hitches: it's Max. He's actually here with Lando and the DJ. And your heart is racing with excitement. He waves at the crowd below, and everyone cheers louder.

Your lip twitches as an idea forms in your mind. Taking your phone out of your boot (an extremely smart and safe place to hide it—if it fits—btw), you snap a picture of the champion, sending it to your chat.

—

MESSAGES: two. To > max verstappen.

you

one file attached.

just found your lookalike!

max verstappen

THATS ME! WhEere are yoU?!?!8@

you

how much have you had to drink? lol

max verstappen

not drunk .

just shvoing past poepel to get to you

where re uoy?????

you

by the bar

max verstappen

real helpful

you

im wearing black?

seen, now

—

You wait a couple of seconds for the grey bubble to appear. When you don't receive a response, you shrug, putting your phone back in its hiding spot. Your gaze focuses on Amara; she's biting her lip while holding two shots in each hand.

"I stole them!" is all she says.

Your jaw drops, and you giggle, accepting the tiny glasses. You yell cheers before chugging down both of them. Tequila. Nice.

You take a step back, eyes blinking away tears caused by the burn in your throat. You don't realise you've stepped into someone's toes until a shout almost bursts your eardrums.

"Jesus Christ!" You yell, covering the side of your head.

Turning around, you're faced with the one and only; Max Verstappen, holding on to the bar railing with a pained expression. Your eyes almost bulge out of your skull.

"Oh, shit! Are you okay?" You can barely hear yourself.

He nods, throwing a smile your way. "Yeah, I'm good! It's nice to see you!" You're barely able to read his lips.

A pinch on your lower back startles you, and you turn around with a gasp. Amara's standing there, expectant, wide eyes moving from you to Verstappen.

"Oh, Max! This is my best friend, Amara!"

She smiles politely, shaking his offered hand. "Nice to meet you!" You wonder if she's close to passing out from internal fangirling.

His eyes return to you. "Hey, you wanna join my table?"

Shaking your head with a confused grimace, you shout. "I can't hear anything you're saying!"

"What?!"

"I can't hear any—"

It's futile to communicate this way, he decides. Max's slightly cold hands are suddenly pulling on your wrists, gently guiding you closer to him. Goosebumps take over your entire body, forearm burning as he moves his fingers to your elbow, keeping you steady, and he leans toward your ear.

"Wanna join me and my friends?" He feels your breath hitch and pulls back to meet your hesitant gaze.

"We don't want to bother you," you say once you pull him down.

Max shakes his head. "Nonsense! I won the race, and I want to celebrate with my friends."

He hears your breathy chuckle. "We're friends, now?"

"Unless you're some super crazy fangirl I should be worried about." The smile in his voice gives away his amusement. He's quoting his texts.

You pause for a second. Knowing Amara, she would agree immediately. You should have fun, you recall her words from earlier. And he seems like a lot of fun. Yeah. She's right.

"Let me ask 'mara." You point to your best friend, awkwardly standing by the bar.

He watches you talk in her ear, a smile forming on your best friend's lips before she eagerly nods. "You're coming?" He asks once you approach him as if he hadn't been staring at you already.

"Okay." As soon as you nod, Max's smile widens, eyes shining.

You nod, and he feels his cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. "C'mon," goosebumps raise on your exposed arms as Max grabs your hand. His hand is so soft. "I don't want you getting lost." The wink he throws your way only fuels the flush on your neck and cheeks.

It's definitely going to be a fun night.

The walk to the VIP section is extremely difficult, with Max getting recognised and patted on the back every few seconds. When you finally make it, you sigh in relief before Max pulls you both by the wrist to meet his friends. Be cool, you mouth to Amara who only nods, wide-eyed.

"Pierre and Kika, Charles and Alex, this is [Y/N] and Amara!" You're sure they can barely hear him over the loud music but wave at them anyway. Charles shares a look with Pierre, the latter unable to contain his smile.

Max leans down, his nose brushing your temple. "Wait just a moment. Lando's around here somewhere." Before you can say a word, he flashes you a smile and disappears into the crowd, leaving you gaping like a fish.

You have no time to recover when the pretty girls approach you. Alex introduces herself as Alexandra, but she doesn't mind going by Alex. Kika's name is Francisca, but she goes by Kika. It's nice to meet them, and you don't hesitate to tell them so.

"Shots?" Amara reappears with four shot glasses passing them to each of you. "Cheers!" You clink your glasses before downing them.

"Oh, are you doing shots without me?!" A new voice pops up from behind you. Amara's eyes widen momentarily, meeting yours in poorly contained excitement.

You turn, gaze landing on Lando Norris and then gluing on Max Verstappen. This lighting makes him look even hotter. Is it normal to be thinking that? Probably not.

He introduces you to the tipsy-looking Brit, who shakes your hands in return. Amara's pulled to the side by Kika, something about doing more shots, and Charles motions for Max to go over to him. Once you're alone with Lando, a smile breaks onto his face.

"He's said a lot about you!" Your brows furrow, confused.

"What? That I tend to get lost easily in big places?" You nervously laugh, but Lando just shakes his head.

"Somethin' like tha'!"

—

views 120 / views 218

—

You haven't had this much fun in a while. You and Amara usually go to two clubs as a duo, but you admit having more people to dance and do shots with is way more fun. You're usually the sober one, having a higher tolerance for alcohol than your best friend, and this time you're extra careful since you're in a foreign place.

At some point during your dance battle with Kika and Amara, you grow tired. As much as you liked exaggerating your moves, your boots were made for walking, not jumping. Max had been out of your vision for a while, and you decided to look for him. He wasn't hard to find, considering he was nursing a drink on a couch further away from the action.

"Hey!" You plop down, bumping your elbow with his.

Max grinned. "Hey, stranger. Are you having fun?"

You nod excitedly. "Your friends are really nice." He snorts at that. "No, really! Drive to Survive does justice to none of you!"

Max's eyes widen, mouth hanging in shock. "Your source of information is a Netflix show?"

"Hey! I had to start from somewhere. I knew next to nothing about racing."

Conversing with Max comes naturally. He's funny, and he listens to what you have to say. He asks about your job: a photographer for brands. He laughs when you tell him you prefer the make-up brands because they're easier to manage than people.

He explains racing to you in simple terms. You nod along, trying your best to take in the information. It's harder with all the music and dancing bodies, but you make it work. You've shuffled even closer to him as Max leans down to talk directly in your ear while his hands move animatedly in front of you.

At some point, the conversation shifts to cats. You're delighted to learn that he has not one, but two big babies. Jimmy and Sassy. Max is a very proud cat dad, you conclude, from the excitement that exudes from every pore of his body as he slides from picture to picture.

"Oh my goodness! They're so cute!" You try not to literally squeal as Max stumbles upon a picture of them napping on his chest.

"They sleep all day and ask for treats all night." You laugh as he rolls his eyes, probably recalling every time this has happened.

"Oh, I'd love to meet them one day. They look lovely!"

"Yeah, I could introduce you someday," he says, and you turn to look at him with a huge smile.

"I should bring my Cheddar when it happens."

"Cheddar?"

"My cat. He's a big fluffball." You reach for your phone, unlocking it to search for pictures of your orange cat.

"And you named him Cheddar? After the cheese?" He looks at you incredulously.

You giggle at his expression. "He's as orange as the cheese. It was my mom's idea to name him that."

You turn your phone his way, showing him a selfie of the fluffiest cat Max has ever seen on top of your shoulders. You're clearly giggling in it, a hand over your mouth. Cute, he thinks.

"He's adorable."

"And fat," you add.

Tapping a most recent picture, you show it to Max. Cheddar is on his back, his fat ass making him look like a pear. Your mom had sent you this just a day before.

"He's staying with my mom right now. And she's feeding him more than needed."

"We should arrange a playdate." You chuckle at Max's suggestion.

"Sure, if you fly out to England."

Before Max can respond, a very loud and drunk Brit makes his way to you. Lando grins when he spots you two sitting close, indiscreetly winking at Max. Your face feels warm.

"Do you guys wan' t' leave?" You barely make out his words.

Charles notices the three of you and pulls a dancing Alex with him, who pulls Amara with her. The three make their way to where you're seated.

"What are you guys talking about?"

Lando turns to him. "Are you hungry, mate?"

Charles shakes his head, leaning close to Alex to ask her the same. She also shakes her head with an apologetic smile.

"I am!" Amara nudges Lando, and his eyes light up.

He turns to Max and you. "Me and my new friend," he pulls Amara by the shoulders, and she drunkenly stumbles, "are hungry. Will you take us somewhere to eat?"

You look at Max, who mirrors your smiling expression. Lando says something about Max promising to be his chauffeur if he got too drunk.

"I could eat," you shrug. Max nods, agreeing.

He stands up, looking at the drunk pair. "Okay, let's go."

—

views 68 / views 95

[ taglist @alexmarie29 , @angelfreckless, @algae-tm, @chonkybonky, @lovely-blackinnon, @namgification, @taygrls, @ssprayberrythings, @ilove-tswizzle, @leclercdream, @halleest, @yaesflorist, @liafterhours, @mrsbrxkkxr ]

[karlachismylife]

Love this blog you will find me rummaging through your writing like a raccoon in a trash can muwah

Oooh raccoon spottings!! Only the juiciest trash for you, fluffy comrade. This blog loves you back! Since I have been reblogging and doing ask replies a lot lately, feel free to use the masterlist, it's more or less full, only some little things get left in the "juju's grumbles" or "juju's replies" tags. But I reblog a lot of amazing creators, authors, writers and artists, so I do recommend scrolling and checking them out too!!!

And here, have some task force 141 discovering a raccoon in their home headcanons. I even went and found @thecutestgrotto 's raccoon dividers because how could I not, really.

Ghost hears rustling and is immediately on high alert. You're not home, and he would've recognized you regardless of how well you try to be sneaky, so this means there's an intruder. And this intruder chose a home with the scariest guard dog of them all.

Simon is stealth itself as he reaches for his tacticle knives. He could've gone for the gun, but that's too much noise and unwanted attention, would be better if no one knew he has it, since it's for emergencies. And for now this doesn't seem like an emergency, because you're not in danger and it seems like whoever broke in is slow, alone and not very confident in what they're doing.

As Simon stalks through the dark hall towards the back door where he heard the noise, he also realizes - that intruder is small. Could it be a kid? Stupid teenager breaking and entering for a bet? Or someone young and troubled to the point of desperately needing any sourse of cash? Or maybe it's a little one that got lost and just stumbled into someone's home in search of help? By the time Ghost actually reaches the now quiet room, he's already thinking he's going to be giving a stern talking, not a beating.

And then he finally turns the lights on, ready to pounce, and sees a dark fat blob frozen under a chair, beady black eyes staring at what poor racoon can only assume to be the apex predator.

"Bloody hell, where did ya come from, ya trash rat?" He's already assessed the room and made sure it was nothing more than the raccoon, so he sheaths the knife and crouches with a grunt, trying to grab the bugger by its scruff and shove him out of the door - it must've been the cat flap that let it inside. The raccoon, however, finally bolts. But not back to where it came from, no; it buries intself under the kitchen counter next. "Come back ya fookin' vermin, this ain't your hose, get the fuck outta here, bloody Zorro!"

When you finally come home, you're met with a sweaty, grumpy Simon with an icepack on his head, furniture moved around and traces of a proper chase scene. And a raccoon squished between the wall and the couch, nervously fidgeting with the mophead that somehow ended up there without a handle attached.

"Did you even try to lure him out with treats?" - "Fat bastart snatched a whole packet of nuts and bolted. Your turn now."

Price is having some fresh air outside, also known as lounging in a garden chair with his cigar, a pint and a nice book, early in the morning. He actually wasn't expecting to wake up this early, but he just recently got from a long deployment, so his sleep is messed up. Knowing he won't be able to fall back sleep, he decided not to disturb your own sleep, put on his big robe and went to catch sunrise beams. It's a little chilly, big droplets decorating all the greens and pinks of the garden - and the rising sun only makes the flowers look even more rosy as the tiny water diamonds sine and sparkle.

Bird song gets interrupted by snoring really quickly - the peace and serenity of morning garden, everything planted together with you and well taken care of, works on John like a lullaby, and he dozes off peacefully, his cigar snuffed out by a timin breeze, book flat on his chest and his hat slowly sliding down onto his eyes, protecting them from the sunlight. He's sleeping so soundly, even his snores aren't that loud, so the nature just accepts him as a part of the ever-changing landscape for today. Insects landing on him, searching for food and moving on without as much as tickling him. Wet grass sticking to his garden slippers and slowly drying of like that. Little midges getting stuck in his beard, poor thrashing creatures.

There's also someone bigger traversing the morning grounds, returning from the long night of searching for food. Not so stealthy under the sun, a dark shadow trots along the lush rose bushes that provide nice cover still. The hunt must've been not too successful, furry tummy still hungry and big tail dragging defeatedly.

But there's something new in this garden, something that wasn't there the previous day. And it brought something to put on the garden table - where food is often put. That's something worth investigatig, right?

When it turns out the little plate and big glass on the table only have something truly yucky in them (she checked really well), she has no other choice but to look in the chair. Good thing she has some help to recruit.

That's what explains the picture you see, once you wake up and go to look for your husband sleepily, only to find him snoring peacefully with a hat on his face and a whole family of raccoons rummaging through the pockets of his bathrobe and trying to climb up his hairy leg to see what's under the loosely tied belt.

There's raccoon infestation problem in your backyard. Well, it's not a real infestation, you already know that it's just one quite skinny and hungry-looking raccoon coming to rummage through your trash, scattering it around. Even when you stop putting it out, that poor critter keeps coming, bringing dirt onto your porch and sometimes even digging under your plants. You don't want to hurt the animal that's clearly just looking for food, so after some time you just give up and ask Gaz to deal with it.

You married him for his smarts too, you know, he should be able to think of something.

He obviously agrees, gives you a reassuring kiss on your temple and beams with pride just from knowing you think of him being capable to deal with any problem you have, because that's exactly what he's there for, he tells you. And he's confident he can do it, honestly, he has dealt with terrorists and complicated mechanisms, a starving shabby raccoon can't possibly be harder to deal with. You trust that confidence, you trust your husband, so you just leave him to it and forget about the problem.

Weeks pass without any real disturbance - at some point Kyles starts putting the trash outside again, and since it's not getting scattered all over the porch and garden again, you figure he has chased the raccoon away successfully. You would actually like to know how and thank him properly, but since he's still not mentioning it, you decide that he's still testing the results and will come report like a good boy once he's sure that little striped tail won't show up anymore.

You don't even put two and two together when one day, quite early in the morning, Kyle wakes you up with hot kisses behind your ear.

"Hey, angel. Sorry to wake you up, I jus' wanna show ya something. Let me carry you, a'right?" As soon as you stir, still warm and soft, eyes barely able to flutter open, he shushes you and stops you from getting from under the blanket. With a kiss on every eyelid, you get wrapped up in a blanket burrito and curl up in Kyle's arms, sleepy head resting on his shoulder as he carries you over to the door.

He places you on the porch rocking chair carefully, sealing the blanket around our feet so the cool morning air won't bite your toes, and crouches down next to you silently. Still half asleep, you can't even tell whether you wait for long or not, but your eyes try to close back, when suddenly something catches your attention.

It's the slightly more rounded raccoon - still same pattern on his tail, though - trotting directly to your porch with purpose in his stride. You blink, unsure what you're looking at, when that little buddy stops in front of the steps and looks at Kyle, who gives him a nod. Swiftly, the raccoon runs up the stairs and approaches the trash can. carefully, he slides off the lid with its tiny hands, and rummages inside. Just a single wrapper falls out of the whole bunch of things.

Once the raccoon finds some scraps he's been looking for and munches on them, he sniffs around, finds that wrapper and puts it back into the trash can. Then turns back to Kyle, who has a hard time hiding his sly grin as he looks at you, now completely awake and wide-eyes, from the corner of his eyes.

"Nope." Kyle makes an arching gesture with his palm. And the raccoon listens to him, turning to the trash can again and pulling the covering lid back over it. Only then he gets an approving nod from your husband, and just like that, leaves.

There's a moment of silence between you two as you watch that grey shadow disappear under the fence to your neighbours.

"Kyle, did you actually train a raccoon to throw its trash away?.."

You get a feeling when you push your key into the lock and open the door.

It's inexplainable, intuitive, gut feeling that you can't really put a finger on. Something's not right, but it's not the spooky dangerous "not right" like if you found your entrance wide open. No, it's a gnawing suspicion, an anticipation you get, trying to warn you something happened at home while you were away. Same feeling dog owners get when they're not being greeted by eagerly jumping pups because someone has chewed the owner's best pair of shoes up of broke their favourite vase.

Taking into consideration that you're living with John Soap MacTavish, it's either that or he's preparing to prank you.

But no, the TV's on and you hear distinct sounds of snacks being downed by one Scottish specimen, a glass or a bowl clinking from being touched by his clumsy big fingers, so he's not hiding behind the corner to jump at you. The apartment doesn't look trashed too, no hastly wiped blood splatters on the floor, no sight of ambulance or the police at the entrance into the apartment building. Looks like Johnny did't touch his street clothes or shoes either, so he probably didn't run out to throw away evidence like that one time when he forgot he started cooking something with caramel and had to throw away the whole pot.

Everything seems normal. Just your husband being so engolfed by Pocahontas that he doesn't hear you rustling with yout clothes and jiggling keys at the entrance, otherwise he would run out with crumbs of whatever it is he's snacking on in the corners of his mouth and grab you as he always does, spinning you around and looking like his whole life just regained its meaning because you're finally...

Wait. Since when is Johnny a Disney princess fan?

Last time you checked, the only one he approved off was Mulan, even Brave falling under critisism for historical inaccuracies he took too close to heart.

Carefully and sneakily, you tiptoe into the sitting room, going back and forth on whether to spook him as a revenge for the last time or not, but before you can decide, you get noticed.

There's a beat of silence between you, stuck in a creeping pose, Johnny with his hand still in a bowl of little apple slices, and a raccoon. Also sitting with a half-eaten apple slice in front of a slightly mudded water bowl. On the couch. In your living room.

"Soap."

Two pairs of eyes blink at you.

"MacTavish."

He slowly retracts his hand from the bowl and licks his lips, There's apple juice staining his stubble.

"Johnny. What the fuck is a raccoon doing sitting on the couch."

"We're hanging oot."

The raccoon finally moves and shoves the apple slice into its mouth, chewing juicily and reaching its paws in a asking manner. Distracted by that, Soap turns back to the critter and fishes a new slice out of the bowl, which the raccoon immediately snatches from your husband's hand and dips into the water bowl before crunching in the fruit.

"Johnny. Where did you find it."

"They just climbed oanto th' balcony!"

"Johnny, we're living on the 15th floor, how did it-" - "Nae "it", bonnie, 's "they". Ah asked. And their name's Rob Roy."

You fall silent again, watching Johnny hover protectively over the bloody non-binary raccoon. You wouldn't believe the balcony story, but Soap clearly looks like he hasn't left the apartment since you went out.

"It... they probably are someone's pet, Johnny. That ran away. Did you check? Ask around?"

"Ah did." He pouts at you as if he's offended you even doubt his ability to think of such logical solution. "Thay're nae. Jus' chose us, bonnie."

You feel your heard stutter at the implication behind those words and shake your head, pointing at the fiends on your couch.

"No-no-no, John MacTavish, we are not keeping that bloody thing. If it's a wild animal, it doesn't belong in an apartment! We weren't even ready for a cat, what raccoon, Johnny, the fuck you think it will-"

"But thay're cute! Look at 'em, bonnie! Ye wanna throw poor bastart away to starve and freeze tae death?!"

You and Rob Roy make similar pained sounds when Johnny grabs that fat fucker and shoves them into your face. Yeah, the raccoon is cute as hell.

It's Johnny's puppy eyes that do you in, though.

[danganronpadedication]

DAY 12: DANGANTOBER

Day 12: Remnants of Despair

AT LAST, AT LONG, LONG LAST! IT'S HAPPENING, IT'S FINALLY HAPPENING! THE EVENT ONE BILLION YEARS PROPHESIZED HAS COME TO PASS! THE DAY HAS COME! I FINALLY GET TO RANT ABOUT THE REMNANTS! Hats off to you if you know what I was referencing just now, lol.

I've said this a lot, but I really love the Remnants of Despair. They're my favorite part of the Danganronpa story, and I think they're criminally underused. There's just so much potential to explore and work with, and it's something that plagues my mind 24/7. Their designs are awesome, their psychology is interesting, and further exploring them not only paints a more detailed picture of the characters, but of the Danganronpa world as a whole. In this post, I'll be talking about EVERYTHING, from what they did, to how they look, whatever comes to mind, really.

For those of you who have forgotten the details of the Remnants, never played or watched UDG, or just never watched the episodes of the anime where we get information about them, here's a recap.

So, hopefully everyone reading this is familiar with the cast of SDR2. That group of students are the ones who go on to become the Remnants of Despair (+Hajime, even though he was just a reserve course student at the time). While they were at Hope's Peak, they rarely hung out with one another. Their teacher, Chisa Yukizome, rounded up everybody and made them start coming to class so they could form connections with each other. This class of students consisted of Teruteru, Peko, Mahiru, Ibuki, Hiyoko, Mikan, Gundham, Nekomaru, Nagito, Chiaki, Fuyuhiko, Sonia, Kazuichi, Akane, and Imposter pretending to be a character named Ryota Mitarai (who will be discussed later in this post). After a few days of knowing each other, and a certain soup-related incident that I will not ruin this post with, Chiaki is named as the class representative.

As each day passed by, the class grows closer together, and closer to people outside of class as well. Chiaki makes friends with Hajime, and Mikan finds out about the real Ryota, and about Junko and Mukuro. Junko uses Mikan as a test subject for her despair video, and it works on her. She doesn't show up to class anymore, and one day, someone spots her on campus, so everyone goes searching for her. Nagito and Chiaki stumble across a hidden passageway, where they find Junko and Izuru. Nagito is injured in the interaction, and Chisa provides a distraction for the two of them to get away.

I fear I am jealous of Nagito here lmao. Chiaki and Nagito go back to the rest of the class, who found Mikan, and they all decide to go back for Chisa. Meanwhile, Junko has already brainwashed Chisa, and her master plan is set into motion. The class walks through the secret passageway, and Mikan separates Chiaki from everyone else. Chiaki runs into Chisa, who leads her to an elevator that takes her to a dungeon-like obstacle course, full of spikes and boulders. She must escape to get back to her friends, and Chiaki actually manages to reach the end. Unfortunately, she's been tricked, and she gets impaled by multiple spikes, dying from her injuries in a scene I will never forget.

The others are shown the footage of her death, and they begin to feel despair over the traumatic loss of their friend. Taking advantage of their anguish, Junko begins to play her despair video for the class, brainwashing them into Ultimate Despairs, who are then let loose to cause chaos in the world. The next time we hear about them as an active group, it's at Makoto's hearing for disobeying the Future Foundation to help them. There, we get this picture.

Whoever designed them ate, I fear. As the Remnants of Despair, they use their ultimate talents to spread despair in unique ways, from building weapons of mass destruction, aiding other subsidiary groups of despair, to tyrannical takeovers of certain parts of the world.

Anyways, Makoto manages to rehabilitate them in SDR2, and its a happily ever after for them as reformed, wanted dead or alive war criminals <3 But, a lot of what they did, with the exception of Nagito, is left up in the air for us fans to theorize about.

Speaking of Nagito, let's talk about Servant first. Nagito basically became a single father as a Remnant. As Servant, Nagito's job is to watch over and aid the Warriors of Hope, consisting of Masaru Daimon, Jataro Kemuri, Kotoko Utsugi, Nagisa Shingetsu, and Monaca Towa. He's the only Remnant that we really get to see in action, being a pivotal character in Ultra Despair Girls.

Nagito is unique from the rest of the Remnants in many ways. He's not expressly violent like many of them are, preferring to be more manipulative in his methods. Despite his title, he pulls the strings of a lot of things that happen in UDG. When he's not making milkshakes for those tyrannical little gremlins, or being outed by Kurokuma, he's blackmailing and kidnapping members of the Future Foundation, like Toko and Byakuya respectively. He's tricking the kids, working under the guise of being subservient to them and their want to create a paradise for children, instead working with Monaca to bring about Junko's successor.

He also has a very strange relationship when it comes to Junko. While a lot of the others seem to view her as their leader, he hates her with every ounce of his being. That's the entire reason he's working to bring a form of her back after her death. The idea of her being alive once again causes him intense despair. He even says that he's jealous of Makoto, because he wanted to be the one to kill Junko himself. He despises her for turning everyone away from hope, including himself. But, he also still seems to have some kind of twisted appreciation for her as well, stating that she's the woman he loves and hates the most. After the plan to create Junko's successor falls through in UDG, he decides to raise Monaca to be Junko's successor herself, stating that because he loves and hates her so much, he can recreate her perfectly.

Nagito's also one of the three Remnants who actually scavenged from Junko's dead body, the other two being Mikan and Fuyuhiko. Nagito took Junko's arm, replacing his own with it. Looking at it causes him despair, since now she's stuck as a part of him. It's unclear what else he did, but we know he was just as, if not more, overzealous about it as he is about hope. It's his maniacal nature that manages to turn Monaca off from despair in the anime, saying that she'd rather not end up as crazy as him. For a character who was so determined to usher in a new era of despair, the fact that Nagito was too crazy even for her, speaks volumes. Don't worry, these other sections won't be as long, since there's not much info about them besides fanon.

Next up, Kazuichi Souda. The only bit of real content we get of him is a small compilation in one of the episodes, showing him working on a large Monokuma robot. This Monokuma robot was featured in the end of Ultra Despair Girls, nicknamed 'Big Bang Monokuma' by everyone's LEAST FAVORITE CHARACTER, Haiji Towa. Haiji is nasty, and if you like him, he's one of the characters I CANNOT see why you'd like him. Haiji likers, DNI.

Anyways, aside from working on Big Bang Monokuma, it can also be inferred that he would go out with weapons and either supply or fire them in crowded areas. After all, there's only one character we know of who would match the dude in the beanie.

I personally believe that Kazuichi was mainly responsible for two major things. The different Monokumas that can be found around Towa City, such as Ball and Junk Monokuma, and the executions from THH.

My biggest piece of evidence for that above claim, comes from Kazuichi's free time events, where he says that he wants to build the fastest motorcycle ever, even though he'd be too scared to ride it. Aside from being the only character in this lineup(apart from Izuru) who could feasibly make the executions, Mondo dies from a motorcycle that can go fast enough to liquify him.

Also, I think that each Remnant went against their personal life goals mentioned in the final episode of despair arc, to create maximum despair. They are asked to state what they want to do with their lives, and they say things like "solve all diseases", "create peace treaties", "increase animal welfare" etc. Kazuichi says that his personal goal is to eliminate all pollution from the atmosphere, so I think he'd be responsible for polluting the air even more, dumping oil in the seas. He is the reason the sky is red, and why Hope's Peak needs an air purifier for the participants in that game. Poor guy, when he's not simping for Sonia, he seems like an actually pretty chill person to be around, especially in those final episodes.

Speaking of Sonia's simps, next is Gundham. We see him in that compilation, surrounded by all sorts of animals. Snakes, elephants, giraffes, you name it. Though, notably, the Four Dark Devas/Twelve Zodiac Generals (all hamsters, the devas are part of the twelve), are absent from the line up.

It can be deduced that Gundham released dangerous animals from zoos and sanctuaries, letting them run amok through major cities. He managed to rally the animals together, training them to be very destructive, and ultimately uses them in battles against the Future Foundation.

Gundham doesn't have anything he sets out to do with his life, at least nothing he voices in the final episode, so maybe he wanted to create a safe place for animals to live happily, and weaponizing them would cause him despair.

To explain away the disappearance of his hamsters, I think he released them as a final act of humanity and care for them. I think he knew that he'd be mistreating all the animals he held dear, and he wanted to give the hamsters a chance to escape. ESPECIALLY if he's going to be having snakes and birds around them, that's a recipe for the hamsters to be eaten.

I feel very bad for Mikan. She was the first one that fell to Junko's influence, the first one to be rewritten in such a way. She even watches the video a second time, which means she's probably one of the most far gone.

Like Nagito, Mikan is one of the three Remnants who took a body part from Junko's corpse. She took her uterus, and replaced her own with it, in hope's of carrying on Junko's legacy. She's also the one who probably attached the arm to Nagito, and the eye to Fuyuhiko.

In the final episode, Mikan says she wants to create a miracle cure for all diseases. As such, I can see her poisoning medical supplies, much like the real-life Tylenol Murders. She would probably hurt those who are sick and weak, and quite possibly experimented on people. As a medical professional, she was probably responsible for making sure the Remnants who frequented active combat against the Future Foundation were healthy and in peak condition.

I've also seen some people say she probably worked on ways to brainwash people through chemicals, and likely used captured Future Foundation soldiers as test subjects.

Akane and Nekomaru are the fighters of the group. They go out, and their main job is to cause as much stress for the Future Foundation as humanly possible. They're both heavy hitters, and that'd definitely be a hard thing for the Future Foundation to beat.

Akane's goal for her life simply boiled down to eating her fill of food, while Nekomaru said he would support everyone's dreams. I think he may have acted as support for the other's plans, kind of freelance depending on which Remnant required his services at the time.

We know one of the Remnants starved themselves, I believe it was Akane. Food brought her joy, so to cause despair she limited herself. In the anime, she's seen with abs, but I think they were just scared of showing her ribs. It's honestly a wonder that she would be able to fight at all. She fights with everything she's got, running off of despair, spite and mania.

Fuyuhiko and Peko occupy a similar area as Akane and Nekomaru. In fact, I think Nekomaru and Akane probably partnered with or joined Fuyuhiko's group of soldiers. All four of them fight against the Future Foundation, keeping their field agents on their toes and actively fighting against any sort of helpful effort by them.

In the final episode, Fuyuhiko says that he and Peko will lead the people in the Kuzuryu Clan down the right path, since he doesn't want to keep perpetuating violence. He wants them to get good educations and lead good lives. Peko says that she'd never kill again. For Peko to be actively fighting in battles across Japan, means she's actively causing the pain she didn't want to. Peko wants to be seen as more approachable, so to be one of the main Remnants in charge of causing chaos must be awful for her. For Fuyuhiko to take a step back and use the people in his clan to cause despair, he's also violating his life goals, and his want to not be reliant on the Kuzuryu Clan. It's the same reason he wants a degree of separation between himself and Peko in SDR2. He doesn't want to be seen as weaker, and he doesn't want to use the people around him.

Imposter is definitely an enigma character. There isn't much information about them when they're not in disguise as either Byakuya or Ryota (who deserves his own post, what I have to say may be a hot take). You can infer though, that they're actually a very caring person. When they notice Ryota engaging in unhealthy behaviors, they make sure that he eats and sleeps when required, and assumes his identity to give him a break. You can also see it in-game, where the more you hang out with them, the less they act like Byakuya, and more like a kind leader figure. Personally, I call Imposter Touya, since it sounds like a combo of "Two" and "Byakuya", and people already call them Twogami. It also means ''all the more, increasingly'' like their talent.

In the final episode, they aren't in disguise as anyone, and they say that they could become anyone they want, including the president. There's a strong desire within them to become their own person, to be seen for who they are, and not as the person they're impersonating.

It's intriguing, as in Remnant form, they're dressed like Byakuya. I think that Touya assumes the identities of various important figures in society, and infiltrates certain organizations whilst doing so. Since they're currently acting as Byakuya, I think Touya has infiltrated what's left of Togami Corporation, and is working to destroy their reputation. Maybe after Byakuya joins the Future Foundation, Touya tries to make it look like he's betraying them during different missions. Maybe that's why he's never out in the field unless it's absolutely necessary.

Teruteru Hanamura. I think there's a consensus on what we all agree he did while under despair. In the final episode, he says that he will feed everyone tons of nutritious food, and end world hunger. On top of that, he's someone who values his family a lot, especially his mother and siblings.

Teruteru is implied to use drugs in his food to make it taste better. It's an already disturbing theme with the food-oriented ultimates, with Ruruka using Seiko (the Ultimate Pharmacist) to enhance her sweets. In Teruteru's free time events, he feeds Hajime a simple rice ball, and Hajime leaves that interaction feeling like he's been drugged from how drowsy he is. Teruteru also keeps drugs around his food normally, evidence being the infamous soup scene. He may have poisoned his food, or used certain drugs to manipulate people to do bad things while in a weakened state of mind.

There's also an almost mutual agreement that I've seen in the fanbase, that he possibly turned his family into food. For how much he values them, I could definitely see that happening as a possibility, and it's such a terrible thought. For the life of me, I hope that isn't the case, and that Teruteru's mom and siblings are still out there in the world, ready to reunite with him once things have cooled down.

I've lumped Sonia and Mahiru together because this is the only picture of Mahiru as a Remnant. Anyways, starting with Mahiru, I think she traveled across the world, taking pictures of all the destruction and carnage as a result of the Tragedy. She likely also blackmailed high ranking officials and celebrities, bringing them under the thumb of Ultimate Despair and granting them more power over the general population.

In her free time events, Mahiru states that her mother was a war photographer. Her mom would go to scenes of destruction, take pictures, and sell them to news outlets. Mahiru says that, while she respects her mother, she doesn't want to take pictures of war. She wants to capture people's smiles and happy scenes of people living their lives. Going around and taking those sorts of pictures amidst the worst event in human history would definitely cause Mahiru despair. That can be seen in the picture as well, taking pictures of Sonia, likely declaring war or commencing public executions in her kingdom of Novoselic.

At the end of the final episode, Sonia says that she wants to make Novoselic into a peaceful kingdom, one with no wars. Once she becomes a Remnant, she forces her people to commit mass suicide, declares war on nearby countries, and executes people in her own country, supposedly including her parents so she may have sole power. The people who do not die in her initial takeover are likely added to the Novoselic army, serving under her and for her every whim. For someone who wanted to be seen as an equal by her peers, and not treated differently for her status, I can see her feeling very upset with herself knowing that she ruled her kingdom with tyranny and terror, and made people treat her as such a higher power.

Next is the girl group duo, Ibuki and Hiyoko. I think their combined abilities probably made the other's very potent, and its an interesting team-up. They aren't shown doing anything too bad, merely putting on an evil concert.

In the final episode, Ibuki says she wants to use her music to spread happiness, while Hiyoko says she wants to use dance to spread joy.

I don't really know what they would've done to spread despair. Maybe Hiyoko hit the griddy and it made people very upset. In actuality, I believe that Hiyoko probably employed methods similar to snake charmers, and managed to work in some form of hypnosis into her performances. That would be able to turn the masses against one another, and against other people.

Ibuki, on the other hand, definitely worked subliminal messages into her music, causing people to perform certain actions or think certain things for despair. Swifties but evil. Her music was probably also engineered to cause the most discomfort, with screeching guitar riffs and loud drums. Headaches and injuries would be prevalent at their concerts. I can also see Ibuki just smashing her guitar and wielding it as a weapon if facing off against Future Foundation members.

You can even hear a sample of her music on Spotify, since in the final episode of the anime, the rehabilitated Remnants go to help the trapped Future Foundation members, and she plays a song to incapacitate the brainwashed Future Foundation members. Listen if you dare!

It's finally time to talk about my BOY! I want to save some of my thoughts for his own post, and I honestly think this post is getting very long. For context, I started writing at 3pm, and it's now 10pm. Granted, I watched a movie and did some homework, but that's not the point here. I don't classify Izuru as a Remnant of Despair. I know he is one, but his circumstances are different. To understand Izuru, we need to start with Hajime.

Hajime starts the series as a reserve course student, someone with no talent, yet he idolizes Hope's Peak. He wants to be an ultimate so badly, that he'd do almost anything to do so. He has a bad habit of comparing himself to other people around him, basing his self-worth against theirs. So, in a school full of exceptional people, he's at an all time low. He has no friends, and feels like his goal is out of his reach. For as much as he wants to be an ultimate, we never get an idea of what he wants his ultimate to be. He has no plans for what it is, all he knows is he wants one. To feel important. To feel special. Because he doesn't see himself as anyone of worth.

He is approached by a group called the Steering Committee, which Tengan is loosely involved with. They propose the Kamukura Project to him, which is meant to give him a talent. He obviously really like this idea, but the idea of getting a talent artificially rubs him the wrong way. It's unknown if his parents know what's been proposed to him. One day, thinking by the fountain, he meets Chiaki, and they quickly become friends, bonding over video games. After that, they meet up regularly to game and talk by the fountain. One day, Fuyuhiko's little sister, Natsumi, ends up in his class, and he briefly meets her. Towards the end of the day, he finds her crying by herself, saying that she wants to be seen as the Ultimate Little Sister because Fuyuhiko only deserves the best in his life. Hajime starts to apply this to his friendship with Chiaki, believing he's not worthy of being her friend.

Still, he tries to keep his chin up and not let it bother him. He's hard-headed and hasn't been broken down yet. That's shattered when he tries to go to the ultimates course building for an important question (WATCH THE ANIME) and he gets beat up by Juzo. That very day, he meets with Chiaki, tells her to make tons of memories and have lots of fun for him, and then on, they never see each other again.

He accepts the Kamukura Project, and they begin at once. In the anime, it's done as a very quick procedure, but in real life, it'd be months and months of surgeries, mental conditioning, and medical tests. Soon, Hajime is completely erased from his mind, and is replaced by a figurative blank slate they name Izuru Kamukura. Interestingly, they call him Izuru Kamukura 1.0, implying there were supposed to be more after him. He was essentially a beta test, one that likely wasn't meant to make it this far. They likely expected him to die from the experimental procedures.

He is left on his own for days on end, until eventually Junko finds out about him. Her and Mukuro go to his little room, and try to get him to join despair. He initially declines, not seeing the purpose behind doing so. They invite him to the student council killing game, and there he feels some semblance of an emotion, so he continues. He is there, lurking in the background for many subsequent scenes.

The scene that is most important is Chiaki's death. She dies slowly in that scene, and Izuru is there, watching her. She recognizes him, reaching out towards him because he was her friend. At her death, he finds himself actually feeling something.

He's crying. Something he didn't think was possible. It is unknown if Hajime's repressed pain and despair was so powerful that it was finally felt in this moment, or if Izuru was just intrigued and confused by the idea of someone using their last moments to reach out to him. Nevertheless, he sticks with Junko's plans for despair, and is the reason she even ends up in SDR2. He's still effected by Chiaki's death long after this scene, expressing what can be confused for anger at the end of UDG when Junko starts to mock the way she'd greet him. He rips the wiring out of Shirokuma and Kurokuma's heads, taking only what he needs for the plan.

Izuru wasn't brainwashed, at least, not by Junko. The Kamukura Project deserves it's own post, but here's the rundown. He is supposed to be the Ultimate Everything, in peak physical and mental form. The surgeries needed to give him the strength capacity for the athletic ultimates would've involved breaking every bone in his body and rebuilding him from there, strengthening him enough to be able to launch Mukuro across the room with a flick of his hand. He would be injected with a cocktail of chemicals, made to increase mental abilities like memory, and possibly growth hormones for certain aspects of his body. That would explain why his hair is so incredibly long and dark, and why his eyes are red.

On the mental front, yes, he'd undergo numerous brain surgeries. Likely around the hippocampus and amygdala, they'd sever connections related to his original identity, which would also damage his ability to feel. Your emotional receptors are in those areas, and maybe ruining those sections were by design. After all, Hope's Peak is shady, and maybe they were trying to create some kind of unfeeling superweapon. Theory for another day. They left him near emotionless, with all the logical processing needed to complete any task needed, like a robot. They left him purposeless, craving entertainment of any kind. This makes him easier to use, easier to employ as a tool. If he is lacking purpose, he'd do anything you ask in order to feel anything other than emptiness. This is something Junko appeals to, since despair would be unpredictable and exciting for him.

I think he grows bored quickly, since after a while, anarchy becomes its own kind of order. There is still humanity in Izuru, he holds onto Chiaki's hairpin, and when Makoto finds him, he's nurturing a flower.

This scene is part of the reason why Makoto believes the Remnants are able to be saved. An unfeeling, despair-ridden monster wouldn't take the time to be so kind to something as small as a flower.

This scene is so moving when you watch it.

I think as a "Remnant", Izuru was merely an observer. I don't think he did anything except watch, only intervening when he felt it'd provide him some entertainment. Once he got bored, and only had Junko's USB stick plan, he'd probably find some way to make it easier for Makoto get everyone together, if only to enact that plan for that final bit of entertainment.

Is it obvious that I love Izuru?

Original Creator: Jayce Jole on YouTube

I spent a while learning psychology, and it's always been a big interest for me. Like with the factors pertaining to Izuru, the Remnants also have unique traits that explain why they act the way they act.

They were brainwashed by the subliminal messages that Ryota and Junko had placed in the video, that's why they're so deep in despair. But what is brainwashing? Brainwashing is a form of mental conditioning, that can essentially reprogram the mind to adopt radically different beliefs, ideas, and morals to the ones already carried by the victim. Brainwashing is not mind control, but it's conditioning.

They had their morals completely rewritten to align with Junko and despair. That's part of the reason I think Nagito is as different as he is. I think hope was such an engrained value within him, that he still holds onto despite his despair. The mental reprogramming is in constant conflict with his closely held beliefs.

There are many real examples of brainwashing, most notably within cults and real-life criminal organizations. They take advantage of vulnerable people, and make them change everything about themselves to align with these new ideas. Junko took advantage of their grief over seeing Chiaki die so gruesomely, and changed them fundamentally. They are not inherently evil people, they were not mind controlled into being evil people. They are people who were taken advantage of and conditioned into going against who they were. It's so saddening, they're teenagers, teenagers who should be going into job fields and colleges and living their lives, instead of terrorizing the world. Grief is a powerful, yet human emotion, and it's one that was easily controlled and manipulated by Junko. That's why Makoto took a chance on them as well. He didn't see the terrible people they had been turned into, he saw the hurt, grieving people underneath and wanted to help them.

It's also sickening how Junko only did all this so the Tragedy would carry on while she was masterminding the Hope's Peak killing game. The Remnants are nothing more than a backup plan to her, people she views as "not useful". They only exist to keep spreading despair while she is away, and that's sickening. She brainwashed them and not her own class, BECAUSE she doesn't value the Remnants. She cared about her classmates, so she wanted to feel the despair of watching them suffer. She merely saw the Remnants as tools, ruined their lives just for her own benefit.

I think there could have been an entire anime arc about them. Show Makoto, or Ryota, or some other character trying to rehabilitate them. How did they manage to track them down, and bring them to Jabberwock Island without dying or being discovered by the Future Foundation? How did they manage to stabilize them enough mentally to enter the Neo World Program? How did Izuru manage to get that USB stick past whoever was helping them? What were they like after waking up from the NWP with all their progress erased? If the survivors were normal, how did they handle seeing their friends in such a state? What impact did they do to the world? They could provide a clearer image of the Tragedy itself, which isn't really explored past Towa City, and even Towa City has only just recently been affected by the Tragedy. I think there's so much to explore, and so little attention actually given to them.

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE SEND ME YOUR ART, YOUR HEADCANONS, YOUR FICS, YOUR CONFESSIONS, YOUR PSYCHOLOGICAL ANALYSIS OF THE REMNANTS! I WILL EAT THEM UP LIKE I AM STARVED! I WILL SUP FROM THE WELL OF FANON AS IF IT IS THE FIRST DRINK OF WATER I'VE HAD IN DECADES! I NEED TO CONSUME EVERY BIT OF MEDIA ABOUT THEM!

I'm so normal, I'm so normal, I'm so normal, I'm so normal-

Anyways, after Dangantober is over, I may introduce my Danganronpa OC to this blog (not as a roleplay thing, but just to yap about him). Mainly, he's a former classmate of theirs, and he's part of their rehabilitation process because I NEED to chew on it like I'm teething.

Here is an edit I made of Chisa Yukizome, and the Remnants (it's short, it was my first one), to a Miss Delight edit audio. Please enjoy it, I was so proud when I finished it <3

Is it obvious now just how much I love the Remnants? They NEEDED more screentime, I'm not kidding on that front. Imagine everything that could've been explored, how much of their actions was the brainwashing, and how much was them acting out in twisted grief?

What did each person do while under despair? Was any guilt felt? How did they react after being rehabilitated? How are they living now with the knowledge of what they've done?

They were just grieving kids, kids who were taken advantage of and used for evil purposes. But I also agree that the Remnants are not blameless in their actions. They must live with this guilt forever, constantly on the run for what they've done, and yet, they have each other.

When I found out that UDG was SUPPOSED to be about facing the Remnants of Despair as either Makoto or Komaru, before it was changed to be the WOH, I was UPSET! Someone, PLEASE MAKE THAT A REAL GAME, I'D PAY YOU EVERYTHING IN MY WALLET AND BANK ACCOUNTS!

Make merch of the Remnants, all of them, not just the Servant pop-up parade and Izuru plushie.

[onlymurdersintheafterparty]

OMITB S4:E6 “Blow Up”

YOU GUYS I AM SHOOK. THIS EPISODE WAS A WHOLE ROLLERCOASTER AND SINCE THE EPISODE ENDED MENTALLY I FEEL LIKE I’VE STEPPED OFF THE RIDE WITH MY LEGS FEELING LIKE JELLY

There are so many things to unpack that I’m just going to focus on the top 2 moments that had me shook and then a new theory after the reveal in the last few minutes of the episode.

Spoilers Ahead (I’m serious watch the episode first because of all the episodes to get spoiled this one will really have you messed up)

“I’m Watching You” / Double Murders

This is what had me mentally screaming because what do you mean Dudenoff has been dead this entire time and Sazz was right about there being another murderer in the building?! And the handwriting in the texted pic is the same as the one in the first season that appeared before Winnie was poisoned. Now before this episode a LOT of people theorized this very plot about a unsolved murder or cold case so I’m sure they feel vindicated after this episode. Many people think that it’s Lester who is the mastermind and I’m sure are even more suspicious now because he used to be an actor while others think it’s Uma. I agree with the first group and think it's Lester and I think his accomplice is Marshall P. Pope the writer.

Evidence Against Lester

He was homeless and out of work when he started working at The Arconia; After being hired he could have met Dudenoff in the lobby at some point and while talking film/acting, he could have mentioned being homeless and was brought into the $200 rent scheme and temporarily lived in the West Wing; It would also give him free reign of The Arconia after hours

As doorman, he has access to the different units; delivering the wrong mail gives him a chance to snoop or bug apartments because anyone passing him in the halls will just assume he's doing his job

As an actor, he could have worked with or was taught by Dudenoff

His son is an actor and Lester paid for the classes so where did the extra money come from?

He could be resentful of Charles because he's a successful actor living in a fancy building meanwhile he's stuck as a doorman; Charles being awkward could have been read as rudeness adding to that resentment (Vince thought Charles hated him because of their awkward window encounters)

People constantly bring up Lester returning Charles' hat in season one and it makes me wonder if he's ever impersonated Charles. They both have white hair, I'm not sure about the similarity in physical builds and height because of Lester's uniform and hat, but I've always had a sneaking suspicion someone has been posing as Charles here and there; Plus Charles doesn't really interact with his neighbors like that so if Lester disguised himself as Charles and wore a hat and hid his face no one would know or be shocked at him not saying hi back. And because Charles is friends with Oliver and Mabel, that would allow him to bug their apartments as well because they'd expect Charles to randomly visit his friends

In the 70s after the brothel got shut down, I'm sure the rent prices dropped drastically making it affordable for Dudenoff to purchase the entire floor

Lester killing Dudenoff would give him access to all those apartments and with the money from his side hustle, he can afford to pay off the police or whoever else he needs to keep the trio off his trail

Being homeless would have allowed him to meet some interesting people and if the alcoholism ever led to him serving any period of jail time he could have met criminals that became friends and allies to help do footwork behind the scenes over the past few seasons

This could also be how he got access to the poison in the attempt to kill Winnie

He could have killed Dudenoff out of revenge because he was promised a role that was rescinded or in a parallel to Ben and Charles, he was unfairly fired and held a grudge

Evidence Against Marshall

The biggest theory is that Marshall stole someone's script. I do agree with this theory but I don't think it was Sazz he stole it from, I think it was Lester

Marshall is a fan of the podcast so maybe at some point between seasons he went to go see the Arconia for himself; To get inside he'd have to go through Lester; If they got to talking about the podcast and films/screenwriting in general, Lester who was already spying on the trio could have by then written a film script in hopes of making a comeback; Lester has no connections from being out of work so he and Marshall come up with some sort of deal where Marshall will pitch the script and get Lester cast in the film;

Was Marshall a student of Dudenoff as well? That could be another connection between the two and instead of visiting The Arconia for the podcast he could have been in town to visit Dudenoff and bonded with Lester over that

Marshall knows how to do disguises but who could he impersonate that would actually be believable? I have no clue

If Marshall and Lester are accomplices there's a chance Marshall will be killed off before the season is over in an attempt to keep him from telling the truth

Dudenoff's Students:

Trina and Tawny

Vince Fish

Rudy Thurber

Sauce Family (unconfirmed)

Helga (unconfirmed)

Lester (unconfirmed)

Marshall (unconfirmed)

Other Observations:

I think Jan knows who the killer is and that’s why she went into hiding after escaping prison. As long as she’s lived in the Arconia I’m sure she’s seen some stuff plus game recognizes game so if she encountered another killer I’m sure she’d suspect it.

If Oliver is the second one targeted I wonder if Mabel is next; Jan did say that the killer would keep trying until they get it right

I don't think Howard is the Moriarty anymore and that it's definitely Lester

The Right Westie = Weird, Struggling Actors; The Westies pride themselves on being weird, outcasts and 2/5 are confirmed actors; Helga may have been run off or been paid off to leave and threatened to stay silent because she discovered Lester was impersonating Dudenoff and witnessed him cashing the checks

My attempt at an outline of what all went down with Lester & Dudenoff:

???? Lester becomes homeless and loses acting jobs because of alcoholism

???? Lester gets a job at The Arconia

???? Dudenoff teaches Rudy & Vince at some point

2011 Trina and Tawny meet Dudenoff in his film class; Notice that at first they're only filmed from the back and when we see through Dudenoff's lens, we only see what's within the lens so if the killer was in attendance they weren't seen onscreen

2012 Dudenoff gives the twins his cameras

2018* Dudenoff is killed (three years prior to pilot)

*the twins say the last time they spoke to him was three years ago and that he cut off communication because they moved to LA; Just because they didn't hear from him doesn't mean he actually died 3 years ago; No body = no way of checking the time of death

2021-2022 The trio's apartments are bugged at some point

Remaining Questions:

Who is the person in the Westie group pic with the scratched out face?

How long have the apartments been bugged?

If Dudenoff is dead, who has been impersonating him when addressing new tenants?

Does Dudenoff having replacement joints mean he was a stuntman as well? That would be yet another example of double identities this season

How long was the incinerator broken?

How long has Lester worked at The Arconia?

If Vince's pink eye is so contagious how did Eugene and Charles not get it despite being in close proximity?

If I missed anything from the first 2 seasons or got something wrong please let me know because I need my info as accurate as possible to figure this all out lol

[topguncortez]

Do I Wanna Know?

synopsis: It's your friend's bachelorette party, and she drags you to The Hard Deck where a certain brunette stripper catches your attention

word count: 3.3k

warnings: stripping, mentions of drugs, mentions of violence, mentions of being cheated on, sexual tension, mentions of prostitution

A strip club was not on the top of your list of things to be at this Saturday night. You could probably name about a hundred other places you would rather be at, but it was your best friend’s bachelorette party. Even though you had been hailed with the lovely title of maid of honor, you left the party details up to her sorority sisters from college.

You loved Malia with all your heart. She had been your longest friend, sticking by your side through everything. Your bond was really sealed when she stood in the same handicap bathroom stall as you took a pregnancy test at some random Walmart. But that bond had become somewhat weak when she went to NYU for college and you stayed back and got a two year degree at the local community college. 

“A strip club?!” Malia’s cheery voice sounded out from the middle of the party bus. Also, not your idea whatsoever. 

Malia seemed to be having the time of her life as she wore a white fringe dress with a sash across her body and in glittery gold writing it spelled ‘future bride’. One of her sorority sister’s had given her a sparkly white cowboy hat to try and complete the look. Everyone else was told to wear black, so you dug out a black off the shoulder dress from the deepest parts of hell, aka your closet. You were surprised that you even still had this dress. 

“Everyone deserves one last dance!” Jessica, no Jennifer, you were pretty sure her name was Jennifer, shouted and held up her red solo cup. That was one thing you didn’t like about sorority girls, they never seemed to grow up. 

You walked somewhat behind the group as they got off the bus, your feet were starting to ache from bar hopping earlier. You were probably the more sober one among the group, choosing to opt out of the fireball shots at the last club. One of the girl’s gave her name to the bouncer, a tall tan man with a mustache, who smirked and then walked their group into the club. You rolled your eyes at the sign above the door. 

‘The Hard Deck’ 

You knew it was a play on words since the club was near the port. San Diego was known for its dirty dingy clubs that were more than just strip clubs. With the military base so close by, restless sailors were always looking for a way to blow off some steam when they reached port. But this club was a lot nicer than most, whoever owned it obviously took pride in their business.

The bouncer led your group to a section right at the front of the stage. The sorority sister who booked the section winked at the bouncer before he left. You huffed as you sat down in a chair as far away from the stage as you could get. 

“Hey,” You turned your head to see Malia sitting down next to you, “Thank you for coming out tonight. I know none of this can be easy. It totally sucks that Justin broke-” 

“Let’s not talk about my sham of an engagement,” You shook your head and grabbed Malia’s hand in yours, “This is your night. You’re going to be the future Missus Malia Pfifer.” 

Malia squealed and stomped her feet. You couldn’t help but giggle at her excitement. Malia always reminded you of a golden retriever, constant energy, always a ball of sunshine. You were truly happy for her and her fiance Max, it was the timing of everything that couldn’t have been worse.

A week ago you had walked in on your fiance Justin, who was Max’s best friend and best man, in between the legs of your coworker. He had tried to justify the scene, telling you it was an accident, but you were smart enough to know that you don’t just fall in between someone’s bare legs. You threw the ring at him, as well as some other items until he got out of your house. You called Malia in tears and she was over so quickly you knew she broke traffic laws. She spent the night helping you dump glitter into boxes of Justin’s clothes and put them in your driveway for him to get in the morning. You knew that if you needed to hide a body, Malia would be the one to call. 

But you also didn’t want to be the dark shadow in her way. Her wedding was three weeks away, and this was her night to let loose before she took on the role of the doting wife. She had already accepted that role so well and there weren't any legal ramifications about it. 

“Well, as long as you are having fun. And hey! Who knows, maybe you’ll meet your future husband here!” Malia smiled. 

“This isn’t Magic Mike, Mals,” You chuckled. Malia just shrugged and kissed your cheek as a redhead, who you think is named Amanda, walked over with a fat stack of ones and a tray of shots. You sucked in a breath and looked around the club. If you couldn’t beat them, you might as well join them. 

— — — 

Everyone had their own pre-show prep. Some of the guys went over their new dances in their heads, some of them lathered oil on their abs to make them shine just that much more, some popped pills and snorted white lines on a tray, some of them did a last minute workout to make their muscles plump a bit more, and some of them sat on their phones and looked through tiktoks. 

Rooster was the last of the options. 

He felt confident in his dances for the night. He hardly changed up his routine from week to week, knowing that simple was better. He worked out a couple hours before work so he had time to shower and knew for a fact that he didn’t stink. He also hated putting excess baby oil on him, it made everything slippery and he has had one too many slips on stage. And he stayed away from the drugs that floated around the locker room. He had seen one too many guys get hooked on the junk and fired for not being able to perform. Stripping was about all Rooster had going for him, and he was not about to do something stupid. 

No, working at a strip club wasn’t what he imagined he would be doing when he was a little kid. He thought he was going to be a pilot, but one stupid mistake cost him his whole future. He had nowhere to go, no higher education than a high school diploma, and was facing jail time. That’s when he stumbled across the Hard Deck. It was the middle of the day, and from first glance he thought it was just a regular bar, but when he walked in, he quickly learned it was not. He was about to turn around when a sweet voice called out to him. 

“Boys! I told you to keep the bathrooms clean! I am not your damn maid!” 

Rooster looked up from his phone, hearing that voice that had called out to him all those years ago. Penny Benjamin, aka their house mother and partial owner of the club. She had welcomed Bradley with a plate of food and a place to lay his head. The only thing she asked in return, is that he worked to pay his keep. At the time, Rooster didn’t know a single thing about dancing let alone stripping, but Penny told him not to stress about it. Declan, the MC and mainshow boat took Rooster under his wing and taught him everything he needed to know about working the stage and getting the tips. 

“Sorry mom,” Rooster said and gave Penny a lopsided smile. 

“Not your fucking mother, Rooster,” Penny pointed at him, “Keep this shit clean, or I’m taking wages for a cleaning fee.” 

“Payback said there’s a bridal party in the house,” Jake said, taking a seat next to Bradley. He was one of the ones who lathered more oil than necessary onto his abdomen, “You know what that means.” 

“Horny middle aged women trying to pull my pants down?” Bradley said, looking up at him. 

“No, more tips man,” Jake rolled his eyes, “Bachelorette girls are fucking crazy. Fucking wink at them and their pulling their panties to the side.” 

Bradley tossed his phone onto the counter in front of him and looked at himself in the mirror. His hair started getting a little long, but the women in the club seemed to dig it. He trimmed up his mustache a bit and put some light makeup over his face. That was another thing Bradley never thought he would do, put makeup on his face. But Declan said it helped bring in tips, so Bradley wasn’t complaining as he put foundation powder on his nose. 

“Declan also wants us to do It’s Raining with the new kid,” Jake said and Bradley groaned. He looked over to the other side of the room where Bob, the newest recruit, was going over the steps to It’s Raining. It used to be a trio between Bradley, Jake and Javy. Bob wasn’t the average looking stripper. He wasn’t supper ripped, or had an oversized ego. He was cute, and had just the right amount of muscle on him. He also looked no older than eighteen, which made the two-time divorced mothers go absolutely feral. 

“Fucking Coyote just had to get a concussion,” Bradley mumbled and pushed himself up from his chair, “What are you doing tonight?” 

“Thinking about a lil Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy,” Jake smirked at himself, flexing his abs in the mirror. He wore a pair of tight Wranglers with an obnoxious belt buckle. He was shirtless and had a red bandana tied around his neck. He picked up his black cowboy hat from the counter and put it on his head, “What about you? Another 80s rock song?” 

Bradley rolled his eyes, “Not sure yet. Depends on the crowd. If you crash and burn then I know that I shouldn’t do country.” 

“Ha, ha,” It was now Jake who rolled his eyes. He took one glance at himself in the mirror and winked at his reflection, “See you on the flip side, Rooster.” 

— — — 

You hate country music. And what made it even worse was the blonde haired green eyed stripper who was dressed as a cowboy, grinding his junk into your friend’s face. He traded his black cowboy hat for her white one, and pulled her up on the stage. You stifled a laugh as you watched Malia turn as red as a tomato as he dragged her hand down his abs, landing on his crotch. 

So far you had been impressed with the guys that had been up on the stage. You felt a bit uncomfy with the baby-faced one who danced to some remix of Toxic and Pony. He might’ve been slender but he sure could move his hips. You thought Jennifer was nearly going to have an aneurysm for how much she screamed for the stripper’s attention and stuffed money into his jeans. You also found it quite comical how red he turned when he had to push her hands away from him and scramble for his shirt before going off stage. 

“Alright, alright,” The MC, who had introduced himself as Declan said, walked back out on the stage. Your eyebrows raised as you noticed him now wearing a tight pair of leather shorts, “A little birdy told me that we have a bride among us. . .” He talked low and slow, trying to be seductive, but you could not take a man in short shorts seriously, “Where is the lucky lady?” 

“Right here!” Malia said, shooting her hand up. 

Declan’s eyes went to her and he kneeled down right in front of her. Malia blushed profusely and bit her lip, “Your poor husband is going to have to ward off men for the rest of your lives.” You rolled your eyes, “Do you wanna know your surprise?” 

“Oh yes! Yes!” You choked on your whisky at the breathless pleas from Malia. If you didn’t know better you would think she was getting railed instead of standing in front of a forty year old male stripper. Declan smiled and stood up on his feet. 

“Well, ladies, I think you better take cover, would hate for you to get. . .wet. . .” 

“Of fucking course,” You rolled your eyes at the entrance of the song, meanwhile the other girls lost their damn minds. 

Three men stepped out on stage as smoke filled the stage. You recognized the two from earlier, they had changed into black jeans and yellow rain jackets. You had to give it to the Hard Deck dancers, they could actually do more than grind on the ground and do body rolls. You sat back in your chair and watched as the three of them moved on stage, and turned around to face the crowd. Your eyes locked on the tall brunette in the middle with the ridiculous porn stache. He caught your eye and winked at you as he slid forward on his knee, pushing his open raincoat back to show off his abs. 

— — — 

Bradley hated this song more than anything. He thought it was a cliche and Bob was half a count behind. It had been Declan’s idea about a year ago, and it had become almost a weekly thing that they’d do for the bachelorette parties in the club. It wasn’t that Bradley hated sharing the stage with others, it was that when the three of them were on stage, women tended to look at Javy or Jake more. But not her. Her eyes were locked on him, roaming over his abs. He smirked as he moved forward, as Bob and Jake took the sides of the stage. Bradley felt the confidence go through his body as he tossed his head back and held on to the ridiculous yellow rain hat, and thrusted his hips into the air. 

When the song ended, Bradley was out of breath and had probably 200 hundred dollars shoved into his waist band. Jake took extra time getting off stage, enjoying the young women swooning over him, and returned the white cowboy hat back to the bride to be. He knew that she was engaged but he couldn’t help that electric feeling when she placed a quick kiss on his cheek before placing his cowboy hat on his head. 

“Did I do alright?” Bob asked, huffing and puffing for air. He grabbed a water bottle from the mini fridge and handed one to Jake and Bradley, “I know that’s yours and Javy’s thing.” 

“You did alright, Floyd,” Jake said and took a gulp of water, “It’s just this part. . .” 

Bradley ignored whatever Jake was explaining to Bob about the dance and walked over to the DJ booth, telling him what song he was going to do tonight. He had spent the last two weeks working on it, and it was Declan approved yet, but Bradley didn’t care. He knew that it would catch the eye of the girl in the crowd again. 

Bradley quickly wiped the sweat off his body, and change out of his yellow rain jacket, deciding to just go without a shirt. He peaked out from behind the black curtains and noticed her still in her spot, a bit behind the group of young women who stared up at Fanboy with wide eyes like kids on christmas. She looked bored and for whatever reason, that spurred Bradley on even more. 

Call it what you want, but Bradley Bradshaw liked women who could give him a run for his money. 

Fanboy walked off the stage giggling, running a hand through his curls. That was one thing that Bradley liked about Fanboy, he was the comedic relief they all needed sometimes. He told Bradley to break a leg and patted his shoulder before dipping back into the dressing room. Bradley let out a breath and shook out his shoulders as his song started. He nodded his head to the beat and when the guitar started strumming he walked out on stage. 

He could hear the whistles and cheers of the women, but he wondered if she was cheering for him. The DJ had placed a black chair in the middle of the stage for Bradley to use. Usually, he’d pick a girl from the audience to sit in it, but it didn’t feel right unless he was picking her. 

Bradley closed his eyes as the voice of Alex Turner filled his head. His body moved with muscle memory as he struted around stage, using the chair to his advantage. He opened his eyes as he turned the chair around backwards and sat down, rolling his hips as he did. She still had that same bored expression on her face and it fired him up even more. 

He wasn’t sure what caused him to do it, maybe it was the eye roll or maybe it was the way she sipped whisky from a rocks glass, but he jumped off the stage and swaggered his way over to her. The same bored expression never leaving her face as he flooded her personal space. 

— — — 

Malia’s jaw hit the floor as the porn stached man jumped off the stage and walked right to you. You clenched your jaw and tightened your grip on the glass. He was skilled, clearly spending more time practicing his routines than anyone else here. You wondered if maybe he was an actual dancer before he decided to strip. 

He was intoxicating and you thought his song choice was interesting. You sucked in a breath as he stood in front of you, he rolled his hips, pushing his junk towards your face, but you kept your eyes trained on his face. His eyes were dark, but you could see that they were honey brown. He smirked as he dropped to his knees in front of you. And damn you for opening your legs for him to slot in between them. 

You knew the rule of the strip club, no touching costumers unless they consent, and he did a good job at remembering that. He placed his hands on either side of your chair as he lowered his head towards your lap and snaked his body back up to look at you. He was trying to get a rise out of you, to see you break and stick money into his waistline. But you were not about to give him that satisfaction. 

‘Crawlin back to you, never thought I’d call’ 

He was going to push the limits, you could tell by the smirk on his face as he grabbed your glass of whisky from your hand, and took a drink. There was a glint in his eye and you nodded your head subtly, giving him permission. He grabbed your jaw, digging his fingers lightly into the skin to get you to open your mouth.

You kept eye contact with him as he spit the brown liquid back into your mouth. You swallowed without a second thought, your eyes on him the whole time. He smirked and wiped a dribble of whisky from your lip before setting the glass back in your hand and going back to the stage, making sure to put an extra swing into his hips. 

“Dude!” Malia swatted your arm, snapping you out of your trance, as the Arctic Monkeys' song came to an end, “What the hell was that!” 

Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked down at your now empty drink and then back at your friend, “I’m not entirely sure. . .but I liked it.”

to be tagged filled out the taglist form:)

[mrs-johansson]

Escape from LA - Lisa Manobal x Fem!Depp!Reader

Part 3:

I closed the door behind me and let out a long sigh, only now getting out of the daze she had been keeping me in for the last couple of hours.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Stepped Lily in front of me with her arms crossed. She looked pissed. “What?” I asked walking past her to the bathroom. “Y/n she literally said she has a boyfriend and you kiss her?” She argued. I started to get my makeup off not really caring about her tantrum. “She said it’s a business relationship, PR if you ask me. So it’s not really a relationship. And she kissed me,” I pointed out, totally chill about the situation. “Since when do you play like this?” Asked my sister as she leaned on the doorframe of the room. “You know I don’t do this,” I chuckled on my way in the dating scene. I truly don’t live up to the pop star image. I’m not really a one-night stand person and I’m not a crazy party person either. Even Lily says sometimes I’m boring as hell.

“I’ve seen you drunk, you never do this. Are you on drugs?” She asked and I looked back at her like she was crazy. “Can’t I kiss someone without getting accused of being high?” I turned back to the mirror and continued to remove my makeup. “I kissed Lisa because she wanted me to and because I wanted to. It wasn’t in the middle of the street and front of cameras. I kiss whoever I want to.” She stayed silent for a minute before she walked over and sat on the counter next to me.

“Was it good?” She slightly kicked my thighs with her dangling feet. “I’ve never kissed someone like that. I know I was tipsy or drunk whatever… but damn it was like I was on drugs,” I tried to put my feelings into words and this was the only way I could do it. “Jennie said Lisa is not usually this open to new people lately so I think she saw something in you.”

***

I walked to the front of the runway part of the stage, the light following my steps. “With older songs, I always have someone in mind that I write these songs about, but as time passes they sometimes change. So this is, Into you,” I said and the crowd screamed and before the light on me turned off, I looked up to the balcony where Lisa was standing with the girls. She was far from me but I could tell she was looking at me too.

As the song started, I slowly started walking back to the main stage deciding not to look up at the balcony throughout the song.

A little bit dangerous

But baby that’s how I want it

I sang this like it’s meant to be sung. When I wrote it I was still with Harry and that time was a really great wave of our relationship. But after the breakup, it kind of lost its meaning to me and nobody else really took its place but now, I kinda think it’s coming back.

For the rest of the show I can’t lie, I couldn’t stop glancing up at the balcony. I was distracted by the kiss that kept replaying in my head.

Saying my farewells to the crowd I blew kisses all around and waved like a maniac. “I love you! Thank you guys! Get home safe!” The lift went down and I was quick to hand off my mic and vires to the staff. Immediately I took off my jacket because I was sweating like crazy and I needed a bucket of water just to shove my head into it.

Just as I reached the hallway to my dressing room, I spotted the girls waiting outside the door. “Great show, Y/n,” heard a man say behind me and I couldn’t help but look since the voice was way too familiar. And there was Harry Styles in the flesh. “Harry, hi. I didn’t know you were coming,” I said genuinely confused as he said he would reach out if he could come to a show. “It was a very last-minute thing. I thought I couldn’t make it,” he explained. I glanced back at the girls and by that time only Lisa was standing there. She was just on her phone, not really caring about what was going on around her. Lisa looked very hot. She had light baggy jeans on with a black crop top and a Celine jacket and hat on. I really like how she styles herself and be comfortable while still looking fine as fuck. “I’ll let you go, you shouldn’t let your guests wait,” Harry’s voice brought me back. I chuckled and shook my head. “Sorry, uhm… Thank you for coming. I really appreciate you being here, I’m sorry I can’t hang out,” I said and he just smiled. “That’s fine. You were amazing, I’ll see you around,” said Harry and we shared a quick hug before I turned in my heels to get to Lisa.

She was leaning against the wall, mindlessly scrolling through her phone. I couldn’t really see her face from the hat and her hair but a little part of her nose and lips were still visible. I got closer and closer to her and she still didn’t notice me. “Hey,” I said and she shot her head up. “Hi,” she said cutely, with a smile on her face. She looked behind me and then back at me. “I thought you were hanging out with him,” she said with a weird tone. “No, he just came to say hi. Where are the girls?” I asked. “They went back to the hotel. Jisoo was feeling sick and the girls didn’t want to leave her alone,” she explained. Her eyes were scanning my whole body while she talked and I couldn’t let that slide. Grabbed onto her hand and opened the dressing room, checking if there was anyone inside but it was empty. I pulled Lisa inside the room and leaned against the closed door, pulling her close to me. “So are we just drunk kissing or what?” I questioned the woman and the smirk on her face was so fucking hot. “I hope not,” she husked and her sneaky hand just fell around my waist, locking her fingers behind me. My hands fell on her shoulders, slowly moving towards her neck. I leaned close and when she tried to kiss me I pulled back a bit. “You’re pretty fucking hot, you know,” I mumbled against her lips, looking up into her eyes. “Yeah?” She asked and I nodded. Her hands slowly slipped towards my lower back and my heartbeat started to pick up the pace. The anticipation was strong. “You were pretty cool today,” said Lisa, and she surprised me by leaning down to my neck, leaving small kisses on the skin. Her soft lips were gentle and tender. “You think so?” I leaned my head back and she didn’t waste any time to kiss up my neck to my jaw. “Yes.”

Once Lisa reached my chin her hand came up and placed it on my neck gently, her fingers set on my jaw. She moved my head to face her and the devilish smile on her face was making me crazy. “Oh we’re gonna have so much fun together.”

Our time was cut short in the dressing room because we had to leave the stadium soon and still needed to change. I got that done quickly and I wasn’t sure if Lisa wanted to spend time with me or not. “Do you want to get some food?” I asked and was a little nervous about her response, hoping she would say yes.

“Yeah, let’s go,” she smiled and I got my phone, texted my assistant that I’d be out and we made our way outside. On the way to the car, I said bye to everyone who crossed our path even though I’d see them in two days.

One of the security guys opened the door for us to the back where the car was waiting for us. And as he opened the door flashes were everywhere. I went blind for a second and grabbed onto Lisa’s hand to try and find my balance. With a helping hand on my waist, she slowly guided me to the car and we got in quickly.

Wiped the tears off my face that had come out because of the lights and the car took off in no time. “You alright?” Asked Lisa with a hand on my thigh. “Yeah, I just couldn’t see,” I gave her a slight smile.

It was about a 30-minute drive to the place we chose so we had a little time and I really wanted to get to know her better.

“How long are you staying in LA?” I asked. “I’m leaving tomorrow,” Lisa said with a sigh, her hand still on my thigh, caressing my jeans-covered leg.

“And where are you going?” “I will go to Paris and the girls back to Korea,” she said, obviously disappointed with that. “What’s in Paris?” “My boyfriend,” she looked away, sitting straight ahead. The expression on her face seemed angry and frustrated. I still didn’t know enough information to give any advice. “Can’t you just end it?” I asked and she shook her head. “It could be worse, you know. He’s not a bad guy, we’re just not great together,” she shrugged. “So you guys tried being in a real relationship?” “Yeah, for like a month. There was no vibe,” she looked at me with a sad smile. “It is complicated, I don’t really understand how this is beneficial for either of you if it’s not public. But yeah at least he’s not an asshole then.”

Once we got to the restaurant, thankfully there was no paparazzi so we could enter calmly. The place was mostly empty, with one or two tables occupied. I asked for a more private table just to be sure, not wanting any unnecessary attention. It wasn’t anything fancy, more like a diner but still demanding.

We both got our menus and after the waitress left Lisa looked at me. “I didn’t even ask last night if you were in a relationship,” she said and I chuckled. “Oh, I’m not. I’ve been single for a couple of months now.” “At least you're free to live,” she said with a sarcastic smile. I nodded and looked for any sadness in the sentence. “Thankfully I’ve never been in a relationship like that. I don’t think I could do it. You seem to be doing a great job, though,” I said and she shrugged. “I get stuff out of it too. His parents are involved with Celine and Louis Vuitton, so I have endless options of clothes. I go to Paris a lot and it’s a beautiful city. I don’t have to go public and pretend how in love we are. It’s easier than a public relationship,” she explained. “But you can’t even be in a public relationship, right? Isn’t that a big thing in K-POP? I always read about the insane rules you guys have.” “Yeah, it’s not really allowed. I don’t think it’s gonna change. Only if we get a new management,” said Lisa, and honestly, I don’t think I would be an artist under these conditions. They take everything just to keep a good image. “And will that happen? You guys could have an American label,” I suggested and she shook her head. “As a group, we're probably not gonna change. But all of us want to continue with our solos so I guess that’s our best option, to sign with someone else as solo artists and stay as a group with YG. It’s really complicated and messy. It’s hard to trust new management and labels.” “Would you consider signing to an American label as a soloist? Or do you want to stay in Korea?” “I want to have as much freedom as I can. I want to travel, be with who I want, and get tattoos without having to hide them and drink in public, and in Korea, they have a say in everything you do. An American label is the best choice obviously, but then I’ll have to go between the US and Korea all the time.” “I’m sure you’ll work something out. You’re the most well-known K-pop artist, every label would want you,” I said and she shyly smiled. “I’m not sure about that.” “Oh, believe me, they do. You have two solo songs out and they are performing crazy numbers, plus you’re a very loved person with an existing fan base. Even if you’re not something they are interested in, artist vise, it’s a great business deal.” “I don’t think I would do something for only business again,” said Lisa, and I quickly looked up from my menu. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like“ Her hand was quick to find mine on the table, gently placing hers on mine. “I know, it’s okay. Thank you for trying to help, though,” she said kindly.

We ordered shortly after and we got to know each other better.

“I saw a picture of you wearing the Nepobaby shirt, it was pretty funny,” Lisa mentioned and I laughed a little knowing how interesting that was in the media. “Yeah, I like to play with these things. I don’t care if they criticize me or my work, but I still see it. Without my parents, it would have been much harder to get where I am but I still have done it,” I explained. “Do people always ask about your parents? Like in interviews and stuff,” asked Lisa then sipped her drink. “Not as much anymore. When Dad and his ex-wife had this whole trial, I didn’t do interviews because of that and even after it was done, I made sure I was not asked about it. It’s not my business to talk about it.”

Our food arrived soon and the conversation didn’t die down one bit. I was so eager to know more about Lisa, her life, her friends and family, her cats and dog, everything. She was so interesting and fresh from the people around me. She had a whole different experience than I did. She works with different personalities and I wanted to know everything she wanted to share.

People in Los Angeles tend to be very egotistical and they think they are better than anyone. Lisa is the total opposite. She is one of the most humble people I’ve ever met. Yes, she’s aware of how good she looks and that she’s talented, but her personality is not built on that. She is kind and views you as equal.

Also, Lisa’s very funny. Very quick with her comebacks and they are really great. She gets a joke, she doesn’t find it offensive and most people get upset with sarcastic jokes.

And her smile. Oh gosh, that smile is everything. When she smiles so widely that her eyes close and her cheeks grow, it’s the sweetest.

While we were eating, Jisoo called her and obviously, they were speaking Korean. Even though I didn’t understand a word, it was extremely hot how she jumped from English to Korean and how her tone changed to a higher level.

When it came time to pay, I insisted on paying, not even letting her take her wallet out. We called a cab and around midnight we were already in the car.

“Thanks for this, it was really fun. I haven’t been out like this in a while,” Lisa said and I smiled. “I loved it too. It was a nice change of pace,” I spoke and at that moment we pulled up to Lisa’s hotel.

“Have a safe flight tomorrow,” I said and Lisa smiled. “You too, have fun on your,” she leaned in to kiss my cheek. “Back at you. Hopefully, I’ll see you guys play live soon.” “I hope so.” I reached for her face and gently cupped her cheek before pulling her into a long kiss. Who knows when we will see each other again? Lisa kept her balance by putting her hand on my knee before we pulled back and with a smile she opened the door. “I’ll talk to you later,” she said before she closed the door and walked inside the hotel.

[wackulart]

more character rambling

I just rewatched the VVV episode and just learning about how they like all mesh with each other

flug and demencia have their rivalry while they're both doing their best to serve black hat but they both have different opinions on what would serve him better

flug feels that his tech and smarts is more than enough to get the job done while demencia believes in her strength and power to be what black hat needs

but in the end, he hired the both of them because he knows that they are both useful to him depending on what he needs and he likely knows how powerful they are when they work together

one of the orientation video rules is to form a team of villains if you need more strength against heroes and while he isn't following the rule for the sake of strength cause clearly he can kill whoever he'd like to whenever he wants, he knows that if he's employing people, he needs a team that can work together to get the job done to enact out his will.

Of course he still messes with them, especially flug because he knows no matter what he does with demencia she's going to love him so he teases her by flirting a bit instead, but when it comes to flug especially in the VVV and the Satellite Mysteries episode, he likes his suffering bc it's funny to him

which is extremely in character for him, of course

I just love seeing them all in one scene because the dynamics flow so well and for all of them to be villains and still likeable is like perfect. There are a lot of likeable villains from several series but it also puts you in the position of rooting for them

You want to see them succeed over the heroes, that could also be because it's more so in their POV but they don't hide the evil things they do. All of them, the exception being 5.0.5 but yknow he helps out where he can because maybe he doesn't want to do extreme evil but he likes making his family happy and that's what they are to him, family

It's just like a great found family dynamic despite Black Hat likely killing anyone who would suggest such a thing

To a small extent, I think he's attached to them. Even in VVV, he clearly doesn't want to lose Demencia [likely because she's extremely powerful and he also wanted to see Flug get his ass kicked] though we didn't see what he might think about Flug being gone in the Heed episode but Black Hat does know things about him

Now he could know for the sake of wanting to keep his employees in check and making sure they wouldn't try to betray him BUT he could honestly do that regardless with how intimidating he is. They have slight favouritism too since they likely can get away with small things that he would have immediately killed anyone else for doing

The way I'd love to go off about the subtly of black hat expressing emotions other than malicious ones

im so obsessed with how they're all written aUGH

[i-have-a-wonky-eye-too]

Devil in Disguise... Part 29/?

Lee Bodecker x reader

<Part 28<

Warnings: 18+ readers only, swearing, implied murder, death, house fire, naked, office sex, unprotected sex, choking, gagging, spanking

Lee smirked proudly to himself as he listened to you explain your masterplan  whilst you sat in his lap at the kitchen table. "Damn, Sugar, should I be worried? How'd y'know know all this?" He asked looking up at you, his large hand stroking the soft skin under your skirt.

You bit your bottom lip as you played with his shirt collar, shrugging your shoulders. "I like to read crime books." You smiled.

Lee raised his eyebrow at you, "Ain't youn' girls s'posed to read romance books n' fairytales?"

You rolled your eyes, "If I was five, maybe, but I ain't." You huffed.

"Okay, darlin', I ain't mean nothin' by it." He smiled as he reached up and stroked your cheek, "I was just curious about why my sweet little sugar was such a mastermind?" He chuckled softly making you blush.

You shrugged bashfully, "I can't help it," You smirked at him, "Besides, it's your fault."

Lee's eyebrows raised, "My fault? What I do?"

You giggled, "I only read crime books so I understand your work." You admitted with a blush.

Lee's lips stretched into a wide grin as he pinched your chin between his thumb and index finger. "I love you, Sugar."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lee shut the door of his cruiser before he began to make his way towards the still smoking house. He frowned and looked around the scene before he looked at the deputy in charge.

"Wha'cha know, deputy?" He asked, his hands on his hips.

"The neighbour, Mrs Blair, said she was woken up at one this morning by a strange sound coming from next door. When she looked out the window, she saw that the house was on fire. By the time the fire department arrived, the house was pretty much engulfed. They only just got it out not that long ago." The young deputy gulped. "And that's not all, sir. They found a body."

Lee let out a heavy sigh, "Shit."

The deputy nodded, "Sir, a neighbour across the street... Hmm, said that... Hmm, that-"

"Spit it out, deputy." Lee glared at him.

"He saw you leavin' the house just before half ten last night." He frowned.

Lee nodded, "Of course he did, Deputy. I dropped, Mrs Riley, home last night. I was down at the bar with my girl's grandpa n', Mrs Riley, was there, drunk as a skunk n' causin' problems." Lee frowned, noticing the deputy's lack of eye contact. "What is it, deputy? Don't believe me?"

The young deputy shook his head looking panicked, "Of course I do, Sheriff... I just, thought, after all the trouble she's put you through since her son passed, I thought you would just have, thrown her in the cells or something?"

Lee let out a short chuckle, "Son, I ain't gonna punish a woman grievin' for her son n' looking for someone to blame. She needed someone to help her n' as Sheriff, I have a duty to protect." Lee nodded looking down to the floor briefly, taking a deep breath, "How do they think the fire started?"

The deputy sighed, "She was laid on the sofa, sir. Looks like the fire started in the same place, so most likely she was smoking and fell asleep."

Lee reached up and took his hat off, pushing his hair back before replacing his hat.

"God damn..." His brow creased as he looked back at the burnt home. "Alright, deputy, I'll leave you to it. Keep me updated." Lee tipped his hat to the deputy before heading back to his cruiser, a smirk threatening to curl at his lips.

Of course Mrs Riley's neighbor saw him, Lee wanted it that way. He wanted people to see him being the good Sheriff, helping a drunken grieving mother into her home safely. How was Lee to know when he left Mrs Riley she'd light a cigarette and fall asleep on the sofa with it where she'd knocked over a bottle of liquor, the perfect fuel for a house fire?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Come in!" Lee shouted out to whoever was knocking on his office door. Lee looked up and began grinning as you opened the door. "Baby girl, wha'cha doin' 'ere?" He asked as he walked round his desk.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips as he pushed the door closed and locked it before pulling the blinds shut to give the two of you some privacy.

"I heard the news." You placed your hands on his chest, "I wanted to make sure you were okay?"

Lee nodded as he slipped his arms around your waist. "M'fine, Sugar." He smiled, "No need for ya' to come down 'ere."

You began smirking as you trailed your fingers across his firm chest. "Actually, I have another reason for comin' down 'ere."

Lee's brow furrowed, "You do?"

You hummed and stepped out of Lee's arms smirking and walked over to his desk. "What do you think of my coat?" You asked him, holding your arms out.

Lee looked you up and down with a frown. He shrugged. "Ain't it a little warm to be wearing a rain coat, Sugar?"

You bit your bottom lip and wrapped your hands around the belt of your trench coat. "You're right, Sheriff, it is." You untied it and pulled the material off your body, letting it fall to the ground around your feet. "Much better."

You let out a playful giggle as Lee stared at your naked body, lust filling his eyes and his cock hardening in his pants. He stared at your chest, watching your nipples harden from the cool air.

Lee gulped and ran his tongue over his bottom lip. "What's this?" He asked with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes playfully, "I know you've been thinkin' 'bout fuckin' me in your office with just this on." You held your left hand up to show your engagement ring. "What better time than now?" You grinned at him.

Lee let out a low growl and closed the gap between you, crashing his lips against yours as his large hands grabbed your waist, pulling you close.

He pulled back with a grin and quickly swiped the contents of his desk to the side. "Bend over, darlin'." He spun you around delivering a harsh slap to your backside making you yelp.

You bent over his desk with your heels still on, your ass in the air and gave it a wiggle. "This how you want me, Sheriff?" You smirked at him over your shoulder.

"Left leg up." He ordered as he unbuckled his belt and pushed down his pants enough to free his cock. He wrapped his hand around his cock as you did as he said. "Good girl," He smirked to himself as he reached down and ran his knuckles through your folds. "Fuck, Sugar, already so wet for me."

You let out a little whimper, "Please, Sheriff," You tried to push yourself closer to Lee's fingers.

Lee chuckled softly, "Don't worry, Sugar, I'll give ya' what you need."

Lee placed his left hand on your waist as he took a hold of his cock and lined the bulbous head against your wet core before he began to fill you.

"Relax, sweetheart," Lee slowly pulled back as he ran his hand over the small of your back soothingly. "Good girl." He whispered as he pushed back inside you with ease. "Fuck," Lee moaned as he bottomed out.

You curled your fingers around the edge of the desk. "Please, Sheriff... More." You begged softly.

Lee smirked, "Such a desperate little whore." He slapped his large hand against your packside before he reached forwards and grabbed a hold of your left wrist and pulled your arm behind your back. "Don't worry, Sugar, I'll fuck ya' just how you want."

You let out a deep groan as Lee quickly pulled out and pushed back as he held your left arm behind your back. As Lee fucked into you, his eyes were fixed on your engagement ring as it sparkled. A sense of pride filled his chest and made him move with more force.

He slipped his arm under your leg and held your wrist as he leaned over you. You let out a low moan as you felt Lee's tummy press against your back, your cunt squeezing around him. He reached round and wrapped his right hand around your throat lightly so he could raise your face from his desk, crashing his lips against yours in a needy, sloppy kiss. His tongue forcing its way into your mouth as you moaned deeply.

Items on Lee's desk began to rattle and fall onto the floor as the desk began to shake fiercely.

"Fuck, Sugar," He smirked against your lips, "Yer pussy was made for me."

You cried out, "Yes!" You groaned deeply as Lee touched that spot. "Oh, God,"

"Shh," Lee moved his hand up and forced two of his fingers inside your mouth, pressing your tongue down to silence you. "We ain't want my deputies to 'ear ya' bein' a whore, do we?" He smirked as he hit that spot again that made you cry out around his fingers.

Lee didn't care who heard. You were his girl and if anyone dared say a word to bad mouth you, he'd take care of them.

"Shit!" Lee growled, your cunt squeezing his cock.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and a muffled scream left your mouth as you felt your orgasm rip through your body.

Lee's right hand gripped your hip firmly as he hammered into, "Fuck!" He stilled and came inside of you making you moan and arch your back as you pushed yourself back onto him.

Lee removed his fingers from your mouth and replaced them with his own mouth, kissing you softly.

He pulled back from you with a soft smile. "Did I hurt ya', Sugar?" He asked and slowly began to peel himself from you.

You shook your head, your eyes tired as Lee helped you to stand on your wobbly legs. "Worth it." You mumbled, smiling to yourself.

Lee rolled his eyes with a heavy sigh. "C'mon, I'll take ya' home." He smirked at you. "Maybe I'll have lunch... Between your legs."

Tags: @hawkeyes-queen @boringandbored @lewisroscoelove @fangirlfree @am-i-rite-ladies @calimoi @wintasssoldier @gh0stgurl @chrisevanseagletattoo @hcaldwell016 @coffeebooksandfandom @buckssweetheart @adoreyouusugar @lli95s @buckysforeverprincess @povlvr @hereforthemarvelidiots @avocadotoasts-world @smash-styles @auntiegigi @smile1318

[10piecechickennuggy]

Magic and Secrets, Ch. 8.5 - Christmas Special - Sanji x Witch!OC

WARNING: This chapter is pure fluff and not "canon" to the rest of the fic, but the main story does contain mature content.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own One Piece or the art featured above. This is a fan-created work featuring an original character.

Read Chapter 8 Here

Read Chapter 7 Here

Read Chapter 6 Here

Read Chapter 5 Here

Read Chapter 4 Here

Read Chapter 3 Here

Read Chapter 2 Here

Read Chapter 1 Here

Delicate snowflakes drifted through chilly air, nestling into a glittering sheet aboard the Thousand Sunny. The usually colorful ship was covered in ivory powder; each mast, railing, rooftop, and tangerine tree shone bright white against the endless expanse of blue sea.

“Come on, Vera!” Luffy’s boisterous voice broke through the witch’s thoughts as he ran onto the now covered lawn deck. “Let’s make snow angels!”

The boy flopped onto the floor before getting a response, his arms flailing wildly as he created a haphazard angel. His giggles were contagious, eliciting an eruption of laughter to bubble out of the witch before she joined her captain.

Without a care in the world, the two played like children on a snow day. It wasn’t long before their crewmates joined in their festivities. 

First, they created snowmen. Chopper’s was actually a snow reindeer, its misshapen head adorned with the doctor’s own hat. Usopp had crafted a warrior from the snow, its white shield adorned with a painted slingshot. Franky had somehow crafted a huge replica of himself - where he’d gotten all that snow from, Vera could only guess. Brook’s snow skeleton held a pair of panties, a smile on its boney face.

Wait.

Vera snatched the purple fabric with a scowl, using her magic to transport the article away. “How did you even get those?!” 

“Yo-ho-ho!” The musician held up his hands in mock surrender, inching backwards from the irate woman. “They were in the laundry this morning. But can you really blame me? Such a soft shade of lilac and beautiful handcrafted lace. I couldn’t help myself!”

The witch glared daggers at the skeletal man, debating with herself whether or not to punch him. Would it even hurt him if she did?

Eventually, she sighed and released her clenched fist. “Keep your hands off my underwear!” She shouted before stomping away, leaving Brook to chuckle lightly.

As she marched across the deck, ready to head inside, a snowball flew through the air and narrowly missed her. The white powder sprayed into the sea upon impact with the railing. Vera turned to see who had thrown the thing her way just in time for another to hit her straight in the face.

Vera wiped away the melting snow with gloved hands, her pale skin bright red where it had made contact. She bent down and quickly made a snowball of her own, prepaying to throw. “Whoever did that, you’re dead.”

The group chased each other around Sunny's deck, hurling snowballs at one another. Most missed, but everyone had a joyous time. Laughter and excited shouts filled the air.

A puff of smoke wafted towards the sky as the kitchen’s double doors opened onto the scene. A certain blonde chef emerged with a smile on his face and a tray of steaming beverages in hand. “I made hot cocoa for everyone. I’m sure you’re all col-“

A snowball hurtled towards Sanji, smacking the tray out of his hands. Hot liquid sprayed onto his shirt and pants, melting the snow into a puddle of brown at his feet.

“Goddamnit, Luffy!” The cook yelled, throwing the tray down in annoyance. Metal clanged, causing the broken porcelain to dance for a moment. “I just got this shirt at the last island! Do you know how hard it is to get stains out of silk?!”

Their captain rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Sorry, Sanji.”

The blonde’s chest was visible through the stains in his shirt - why he chose to wear such thin fabric during a winter snow flurry was a mystery. Vera took a moment to admire the sculpted muscles of his chest before she shook her head, pushing away her impure thoughts.

Rushing forward, she placed a hand just above the cook’s damp shirt. With a whispered spell, the liquid vanished - a dry and stain free outfit left behind. 

“Oh, Vera!” Sanji’s eyes lit up with hearts, his hands clasped together as he twirled about the girl. “You have my deepest gratitude!” He then fell to his knees, reintroducing his pants to the spilled beverages. “Your kindness is that of a goddess! Allow me to worship at your feet with tokens of my love!”

Vera could only blush, insisting that Sanji’s proclamations were much too grandiose for simply removing a stain from his clothing. Once she’d managed to calm him down enough, the blonde returned to his feet after picking up the now broken mugs and discarded tray.

“Well, if you won’t let me treat you like the magical deity that you are, then please allow me to offer you the first taste of the gingerbread cookies I just finished baking.”

At the promise of sweets, the witch’s face lit up. “That sounds wonderful!” Excitement took hold of her body, exploding outward as she made happy little stomps of her feet upon the snowy deck.

“I want cookies too!” Luffy had joined the pair on the way to the kitchen, his voice winey as he begged for a bit of the aforementioned treats.

“No, Luffy.” Sanji scolded his captain whilst holding open the kitchen’s door for Vera to pass through. “They’re for the Christmas party tonight. I’m only giving Vera one as thanks for helping me out.”

“Aww!” The brunette boy slouched in defeat, his form appearing deflated. “That’s no fair! I’m the captain, so I should get a cookie too!”

“You’re the same idiot who threw a snowball at me!” The cook growled through gritted teeth, the smoke puffing from his cigarette mirroring his ears. “You’ll get plenty of snacks during the party!”

With that, Sanji had entered the kitchen and allowed the door to slam shut, leaving Luffy outside with his remaining nakama.

“He sure is a handful.” Vera spoke with her mouth full, a headless gingerbread man held in calloused fingers. Swallowing, she reached for a glass of milk she’d poured while the two men were bickering.

“How is it?” Sanji smiled at the crumbs which dotted the corners of Vera’s lips as she brought the glass of milk to them.

“Really good.” She nodded to the tray of cookies before her. “They’ll be a hit at the party.”

“Thanks.” The cook moved closer to his companion, her seated position at one of the bartop’s stools causing him to appear taller than usual. 

“Your compliments always mean the world to me.” His voice was soft as he came closer, leaning down to just above her eye level before raising a slender hand towards her face. The blush that overtook Vera’s features was darker than even the chill winter air could have caused as Sanji’s thumb came to rest at the corner of her mouth.

Their skin only met for less than a second, but the sensation was as though bolts of lightning had erupted through her very being. When his thumb retreated, three crumbs of gingerbread clung to the skin. Without a moment's hesitation, Sanji brought the digit to his own lips. He held Vera’s gaze as he took the thumb into his mouth before removing it with a satisfying pop.

“You’re right.” He spoke with a smirk, his tone having become ever so slightly husky in their close proximity. “That was delicious.”

Vera was frozen. She could have died right there and been at peace - the most blissful she’d ever known herself to be. And yet she longed for more. 

Without a word, the witch leaned forward, her head tilting up to mirror his downturned gaze. Sensing her intentions, Sanji moved too - their movements in unison as the pair inched closer together. Smells of tobacco and exotic spices enveloped Vera’s senses, a hypnotic lull bringing her ever closer to her lip’s desire.

“Sanji!” 

Luffy’s voice broke the two from their trance, the pair bolting to attention before their captain. “I can’t wait until the party! Make me a snack!”

The cook erupted into another rant directed at the would-be pirate king, eliciting giggles from behind the witch’s raised hand.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Oh, lord, don't even get me started on the whole Luca thing. It made literally no sense and they went against so many things they established in canon in earlier seasons.

The biggest part of SWAT's story was Luca/Street bromance. They literally lived together for better part of the show, had a really sweet brotherly dynamic, always there for each other no matter what. You know what we got from the hospital scene? Nothing. Not even so much of a word about where Street was, maybe an excuse why he couldn't make it which while it still would've been lazy writing, it would mean they at least considered the relationships and important people in Luca's life. Which they obviously didn't. Same goes for Chris. Like, we had newer people there waiting in the hospital, but not the likes of Mumford, Rocker, Stevens, other men Luca's been serving with for SO long! Also, no mention of his dad, mom, sister, brother. Nothing!!

I mean I have grievences with how he got shot too bc I feel like it was a cheap cop out for writing out his character in a way that would least anger the public while still somewhat making sense storywise. But, come on... He has been on SWAT for how long? And you're telling me he'd be reckless enough to risk his life going after three heavily armed suspects without backup, gear, anything WITH KELLY right there???

And then the whole thing post-hospital is also a huge question mark. The pacing was so weird, the dialogue felt off... Then his last call and some of the most important people in his career and life are once again missing (I mean, really, not even a cameo?!).

All in all, so many weird decisions and once again, so many better ways they could've gone about this if they had just considered the season as a whole rather than ep by ep. Because that's what this season feels like - bunch of standalone eps tied in together with a paper clip. A plastic one, at that.

I hope they get better writers for s8 or at the very least the ones that don't seem to hate the show and characters with burning passion bc this is 🥴🥴🥴 And much hate to whoever okayed promoting this season with Alex and Kenny being credited as "recurring" instead of what it really was "guest starring". For s8 celebration we should get them a dictionary and circle those words so that they can learn what they mean since they clearly don't.

~🧡

Um??... Woof. (But I love your explanations and reading your thoughts so much!)

Of all the things they could have done for Luca's send-off, they chose that half-baked, poorly written, hot mess of a story??? WHY? And we know Alex was on set for other episodes, so they seriously have no excuse for leaving Street out of his best friend's ending!!!

Did they think that the fans would just ignore the fact that Luca acted completely out of character in the situation leading to the shooting, and that all of his closest friends and comrades weren't there for him? I mean, I know they hate us and him (clearly), but apparently they also take us for fools. You're spot-on in saying that they didn't put any effort into writing his final episodes; in a season of exposition explanations, we didn't even get one for Luca!!

The pacing and the dialogue is what I've heard the most complaints about! "A bunch of standalone eps tied in together with a paper clip. A plastic one, at that" is the most perfect description!!! Even just reading the synopsis of each episode, I've been wondering if the episodes were coherent or connected in any way, like a television series should be, and it sounds like they're not. Since the season was shorter after the un-cancellation, I think they just threw a bunch of ideas into a hat and pulled one for each episode rather than trying to create an underlying thread that could run through all 13 episodes.

Okay, the situation isn't funny, but your last line made me laugh so hard!! One of my favorite things (for some reason) is come up with fake dialogue for the S.W.A.T. writers - what I think they say at the writing table, so I can whole-heartedly agree with your idea to get them and the marketing people a dictionary and explain the difference between "recurring" and "guest starring"! Like you said, getting new writers seems like the only hope for the show. If the show reads a bit different, that would honestly be fine, as long as the writers treated the characters like they deserve and create a show again, not a mod-podged pile of underdeveloped scenes that ignore everything previous seasons have established!

"Hey, guys, what if we take a beloved character, shoot him in front of Kelly because he ran in without thought, and then just rush through his recovery to send him off into the sunset?" In my mind, the S.W.A.T. writers sound like the pilots from the first scene in the Lego Batman Movie.

[asheanon]

Kuja and Sal MerAU.

— For @mahkohime

From: Ask Box Writing Prompt Game

📖 It's Story Time... (And some music to accompany!)

The tour would not end there, no. Wherever "there" was.

As the two denizens of the deep descended down the corridor, they were soon accompanied by familiar faces (the term "faces" being used rather loosely, in this instance.)

Pitch black, furnished with large, luminescent pearl-like orbs partly obscured by the brims of their pointed hats, the cephalopod-shaped masses reappeared. They slunk around them, minding the various fins and features of the two in the process. Akin to nautiluses, they swam with their sharp chapeaus leading the way, point first. It was hard to say whether they truly threatened to impale or gently poke whoever and whatever may impede them, however... after all, what were those dapper duds of theirs even made of? She certainly didn't know. Curious things; though she had come to retain some information on them by now, Sal still found herself puzzling over aspects of their existence.

In time, the Mer and these tenebrous "creatures of servitude" (as they were often "affectionately" referred to here) came to a halt before a large entryway. They swarmed around the doors, dexterous tentacles finding purchase wherever they may, slowly pushing them open.

A panoply of antique treasures soon appeared before them. Rays of sunlight, warped by the motions of the sea, filtered through the windows, casting an animated array of warm light upon the scene. Most all that lie within glistened with splendor. It was an art gallery, rich in culture. And, unsurprisingly, it was just as sumptuous as the rest of the aquatic estate.

Basking in the limelight of his possessions amidst their big debut, Kuja swerved around, facing her. Crossing paths with the sun's rays, the shimmer of his silver scales cascaded down the length of his tail as it followed him.

“Splendid, is it not?” He certainly put the "extra" in "extravagant."

Sal nodded in response, little more. There was an initial silence as she drifted slowly into the room, studying its contents with care.

Thankfully, he was no stranger to her thoughtful bouts of silence by now. There were times previous where it came off strangely unsettling, despite her often warm and gentle demeanor. Even in its familiarity, however, he still had his moments of uncertainty.

He stole a glance, studying her as her eyes continued to traverse the treasures within. After taking her time to observe many a detail, at last, she spoke.

"There are so many years of so many different lives here. Countless intricacies of creative minds and dreams made manifest. Unique, yet unified by the nature of artistic pursuit."

A small sigh debuted as an intermission between lines. Her feelings felt to be ineffable in this instance, but an attempt to translate them was made nonetheless.

"It's beautiful. And a lot to take in, when you really think about it."

There it was. Magnificent. With the spectacle thoroughly lauded, the grin the noble Mer bore swelled with pride, dazzling and oddly ingenuous for a man of his class. Perhaps it had something to do with who was doing the lauding today.

It was then that Sal noticed it. Amidst all the sparkle, shine and tales yet divined, there was one particular artifact that caught her eye. Carefully and without sparing another word, she navigated past the still-gloating merman, swimming down to a portion of the room.

Sure enough, she had spied a mirror. Her eyes met with their own reflection before lingering elsewhere. Intricate designs danced down the frame that contained it, telling stories she would never know. Though, there was one she may be able to glean from it...

The pad of her thumb met with her ring, lightly rubbing at it. It was the ring that could most always be found upon the index finger of her right hand. The Wayfarer's Ring. She entertained the thought of trying to use it here... not now, but at a later date, perhaps...

"Ah, yes... a personal favorite. Procured from the depths."

Her musings were interrupted by her fellow Mer as he appeared behind her. Of course this was a personal favorite.

Briefly, Sal humored herself with the addition of said thought into the thought pool as she continued to study the mirror. Inadvertently, her eyes met with the reflection of his in the process. The moment was fleeting... as it often proved to be with her.

"I too can't help but to stare sometimes..."

Suddenly, she felt something softly graze her hips. Hands, cradling her; arms gently wrapping themselves around her waistline.

A wave of uncertainty washed over her, head falling as she peered into an empty space somewhere upon the floor. However, her eyes soon returned to the mirror, meeting with the reflected gaze of her elegant... "friend." Or whatever he was now, really. His eyes were set upon her parallel image.

They idled before the mirror, motionless, spare the gentle sway of staying afloat. Cerulean irises locked with bright celadon. For better and for worse, it was a moment that felt to be frozen in time.

Softly, he hummed to himself. She could see his eyes wandering, landing somewhere just off the mark for eye contact.

"Surely, to be forced to hide such beauty is a sin."

It was as if her heart sank - or she was stricken by some other manner of poetic interpretation of a troublesome reaction. Either way, claimed by unease, she knew exactly what he was referring to. This time, a sigh of a more weary nature escaped her. It was not the first of its kind in relation to the soon-to-be subject.

"This close to the surface, it's necessary."

"Not here, though." One of his hands was drawn up. Lightly, it brushed her back before finding its way to the topic of discussion: those long, delicate tentacles of hers, normally sprouting from the base of her head.

Today, they hid beneath white and gold ornamentation, wrapped in a dark azure silk. The fabric bore silver embroidery and flecks of white; designs that appeared as abstract mimicry of the deepest depths of the sea and sky. Her hair had been braided and interwoven within the wrapping rather artfully.

Though all was bound and tucked away beneath such adornments, its glow could not be contained. Those who looked upon it knew the truth, there was no denying it. She was an Abyssal. An Α Abyssal who refused to cut it all away and medically suppress the regrowth. She could bind it, but could never part with her heritage, as some of her kind had chosen to.

She was not the only Abyssal entity present, however...

"You needn't hide who you are from me, my dear." Though elegant and persuasive as ever, what was coming to be commonplace commentary continued to fill the air - or water, rather. Here's to another day of this song and dance of theirs... A finger traced the beginnings of the intricate wrapping of her headdress; its claw dipping into a space between the ivory and lapis blue silk, tugging lightly.

"Don't." The mermaid's tone was less restrained. Firm.

Reflexively, Kuja laughed to himself. It was more of a titter, really... but no matter! "Shall I cast it again, then?"

Just like her, many mysteries of the Abyss intertwined with his DNA. Though, he was an Abyssal of a different make. A Ψ Abyssal. Much like others of his ilk, he possessed the faculty for what most of the world(s) populations had come to interpret as "magic." And such sorcery had its fair share of workarounds when it came to... hazards, such as herself. Or at least in theory.

With an eloquent wave of the hand, a shimmer of light manifested, scintillae forming all around the prodigal Mer before coating his body. Another barrier spell.

"Better?" Fetching as he made his conviction out to be, even so, he was met by silence. Silence and an utterly unmoved expression on Sal's part.

"There is room for error." She then answered. "I've seen it."

"Not of my aptitude."

"Not yet."

One counter met by another. Classic. He let out another light chuckle before humming to himself again.

Ah, if only she knew he simply wished to help! This was for more than his benefit. It truly was! To offer her the scarce safe haven to justly and freely be. Existing in this near-perpetual hiding of one's self for the sake of social standard and the safety of others grew tiresome, surely. In ways, he would know.

Motivated by the reminder, he now found himself particularly intent upon this pursuit today. His eyes narrowed, dignified, yet baleful in their determination. "I survived you once already..."

Once more, he then dared to close the distance between them, their questionable proximity resumed. Looming over her shoulder and her clothed tendrils, he peered into the mirror, regarding her likeness and empyrean beauty as she stared his own down with a... vehemency.

There was a chance they never would have met had he not stepped in. Perhaps she would have been consumed by the Ω that now swarmed and multiplied in the Abyss. Despite her concerns, his point was not lost on her.

Reminded once more of the matter, her gaze fell, the furrow of her brow growing more apparent. It was like a disease, spreading and taking hold of their world, now. What had disrupted that balance? Could it be fixed? Would they have to evacuate this entire planet one day, if not? What could she do right now?

"I speak not only of your kind, but you."

Doing her best to dismiss that particular branch of inner turmoil, she was brought back to the more immediate one. Her eyes returned to his reflection.

"I rescued you. Handled you. Cared for you."

Yet again, she contemplated him and his insistence as he spoke. The remains of the intensity of which she mulled over previous thoughts seemed to leave a stain, however...

It was in that moment that Kuja was reminded just how sharp, yet hypnotic her gaze was. There was starlight cradled within her eyes. He could swear by it. Little did she know, the silence which fell between them was due in part to those radiant irises stealing his words away.

"... Couldn't you trust me to do so again?" For but a moment, anyway. His voice fell to a softer note as he managed to recover. The smile which painted his lips was just as beguiling as it ever was. And the nebulous shades of anxiety she bestowed upon him at times such as these would be his secret to keep yet another day.

Whatever little studies and "science projects" he had stashed away certainly spoke of his experience, but it was not enough for her. She would always have her reservations. There was always a chance to be taken with these things. Which, it was a chance he was clearly willing to take time and time again, of course, but her...?

Talk stagnated yet again. Time inched forward at a slow...

"... If you experience any burning or numbness, no matter how little, stop."

Finally, What sounded uncannily like the beginnings of a warning label left her mouth. They still bore a rigid inflection, but...

"Regardless of your confidence. Regardless of how well informed you may be. Just stop and back away. I'll rebind it."

... She was ultimately granting him permission to proceed.

"Okay?"

Delightfully surprised she would actually indulge him for once, of course, he was more than willing to oblige!

"As you wish, mon étoile." The request was met by a rather deft reply.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained. This venture would be undergone merely to see what could be ventured, Sal supposed. Who knew what there truly was to gain from letting a wealthy fanatic inspect you more closely... maybe it would be more than just a spectacle of vulnerability or an oddly erogenous experience. Maybe she'd learn something? You never know.

Drawing in a deep breath in attempts to help settle some of the disquietude, she observed him as he began to carefully unfurl her ribbon-bound locks...

For those curious about the hair stuff MerSal has going on, I actually scribbled out a bit of a concept to help me write it...

It's scribbly. Design could definitely be improved upon later, but for now, I figured that'd do well enough! 🎨 For those who may be wondering "can she manipulate those tentacle-y hair bits, even when they're all wrapped up?" Yes. She absolutely can. The metal bit at the end wasn't intended to be a weapon, but I do think it'd be pretty badass if it was sharp enough to be one, now! 🗡️

[dailyunsolvedmysteries]

Mom Of Two Seemingly Vanished In Texas

It was a seemingly normal day in Texas on February, 3, 2021. Cynthia Bah-Traore was seen on video surveillance at a Shell Gas Station in the 1000 block of East Criner Street, in Grandview, Texas.

The mother of two had stopped off for gas around 10:30 p.m. at night like so many people do on a regular basis. But the 39-year-old woman was never seen again after that to the dismay of her friends and family, including her two sons who have gone more than a year without any indication of what could have happened to their mother. Bah-Traore was driving her metallic blue Mazada CX-5 with the Texas license plate number NMJ3883. She was about 26 miles south of her home at the time, but there was no clear answer to what she was doing. She was wearing a brown jacket, a navy blue long-sleeved shirt, black pants, multi-coloured shoes, and a brown hat and was carrying a red purse with a plaid pattern on one side.

On February 11, it was discovered that her vehicle had been abandoned off Interstate 35 in Waco, Texas, about 55 miles from where she was last seen. Her car was left at the location for a few days before being towed on February 15. There was no sign of her at the scene. What happened to Cynthia remains a mystery to friends and family.

Tambra Alvoid, Bah-Traore's mother said her grandson called her on Feb. 3, 2021, and said his mother never came home from running errands. Bah-Traore's cell phone was found at the gas station as well, which was not a helpful sign.

"Whoever parked her car knows where Cynthia is," her mother said. "I'm hoping someone will come forward and tell us more information."

Bah-Traore is described as an African-American woman with black hair, and brown eyes. She has a disfigured right thumb and her ears are pierced. Her nickname is Cindy and she may use the last name Alvoid.  

If you have seen Cynthia Bah-Traore since her reported disappearance or if you know of her current whereabouts, call the Crowley Police Department at 817-297-2276 or Texas EquuSearch at 281-309-9500.

[thelediz]

Sonic Underground episode 32: Haircraft in Space

I’m watching Sonic Underground in search of inspiration to finish a fic I’ve been writing forever. It’s a sad state of affairs. See the recap of the first three episodes here, if you're interested!

The plot (for want of a better word): A robotic hairdresser trusted by all the aristocrats in Mobius has been passing secrets to Robotnik! WhoEVER could have seen this coming? Can Sonia override her new friend’s programming and keep Mobius safe?

Yeah, as you can guess, the whole conceit of this episode annoys me. BUT. There is some GREAT worldbuilding for the aristocrats and Robotnik this episode, so let’s go for some good vibes. Please relax with your drink of choice and the understanding that I am rolling my eyes at whoever decided Sonia shouldn’t blink at the whole ROBOT thing, and let’s get our world building hats on!

We are introduced to the Character of the Day, with Sleet and Dingo hovering in the background to tell you from the start that she’s on the wrong side. It’s a robotic hairdresser (I Will Not refer to said robot by her actual name it is Too Stupid) with a very strong New York Jewish accent (because again: stereotypes) (on second thought, does this need a content warning? I don't think it was an intentional antisemitic thing, but... um. Reader beware if it is.) who is apparently an absolute wonder and all the aristocrats love her.

She is also a hypnotic spy who brainwashes her clients into giving up anti-Robotnik secrets.

WHICH -flails- SUCH LEGIT. I hate the conceit of this episode, but a service worker or entertainer used as a spy to infiltrate and identify high society anti-establishment or resistance fighters…! This is horrifyingly true to life and why social media and pop culture is so tightly controlled in some areas of the world and I. Love. This. Plot.

It's just the fact this character is a ROBOT that I object to. There are no sentient robots in Mobius that aren’t on Robotnik’s side in this series. So it’s DUMB for anyone to trust her.

Unless that’s a commentary on the arrogance of the higher classes that I am totally here for except that makes Sonia so incredibly problematic and

I am a problem.

There is something immensely uncomfy about the scene where Sleet and Dingo get the data out of the hairdresser. It’s played… well. There are parallels one could draw. And her data is kept in her chest plate. And they lift up their chest to do it. And… yeah, it’s uncomfy, and I don’t like it.

Sonia is getting frustrated with her Resistance life, trying to put her hair in curlers, and the boys are being loud, obnoxious, and gross, and she loses her patience and storms out. And while I can’t relate to her decision to go to a beauty salon to destress, I go encourage everyone to occasionally remove themselves from stressful situations and recentre with things they enjoy.

But you know. Still. She gets brainwashed into giving up all the secrets of course, while we get a recording of the bad guys listening to Bartleby vent and it is kinda funny when he points out the “Excellent” is the only superlative Robotnik knows. Robotnik spends the rest of the episode tripping over the word.

I enjoy Bartleby more than I should.

Sleet and Dingo go back to the salon just as Sonia is finishing up, and a fight of course breaks out. Sonia has good gymnastic skills but not any particular power in this scene, making it an example of why I draw attention to the times she supposedly IS super strong. The point is, while she’s fighting everyone off, the hairdresser escapes.

Sleet and Dingo put out an alert to the legitimate citizens about the hairdresser, and Bartleby warns Sonia not only about the alert, but also explains his theory that Robotnik has been using the hairdresser to spy. Bartleby, you brilliant idiot, working out the whole plot on your own!

Sonia realises she told the hairdresser too much, and that they need to track the robot down. But she does not explain to her brothers how SHE screwed up, so Sonic and Manic take the low road and say “sucks to be an aristocrat right now!” which is… not cool, boys. They’re still your people, arrogant bastards or no.

Divine right NONSENSE matzerfratzin

Manic tries to twist it as being fitting punishment for gossip, but… no. Just… just no. But oh well –

The song: Don’t be a Backstabber. We’re back to the early 90s rock, some jokes about Sonic not being good at rap (to be fair, he isn’t great at it), and it’s all about not being two-faced, which I would normally strongly encourage and support and so I can’t dislike this song, BUT

I cannot get past the fact that they would apparently rather the aristocrats be loyal to Robotnik than let them bitch about him behind closed doors and…

-WILD FLAILING-

ENCOURAGE THE BITCHING, YOU IDIOTS. FROM BITCHING COMES RESENTMENT COMES REBELLION COMES POLITICAL MOVEMENTS YOU IDIOTS.

I cannot believe I actually respect Robotnik more than the triplets this episode. I feel dirty.

ALSO. Even after the song, Sonia does not tell the boys the truth, so they think she’s crying over the fact Bartleby is in trouble. I am counting this as “Sonia being in love with Bartleby” because the boys think that’s her motivation, even though I actually kind of more think she’s being a self-absorbed bitch in this moment and I Am Not Impressed With You, Sonia.

The point is that the boys agree to help.

And the hairdresser randomly shows up at their door, which is convenient.

The boys make fun of her (further defying their own song) until the hairdresser flirts a little with them. Sonic makes himself scarce while Manic falls for it (again, it’s blink and you’ll miss it, but I’m adding one to Sonic’s counter)… and the brainwashing. So they see it happen in action.

Because they can’t get into her recording tape, the triplets decide to take the hairdresser to Bartleby, who knows a ‘bot expert’. But the boys are furthering their whole hypocritical two-faced natures this episode and secretly conspire to let the hairdresser be taken back to Robotnik.

My patience is thinning, because there is an important message in this episode about honesty and teamwork that is not going to be properly communicated.

Sonic and Manic’s plan works, and the hairdresser is kidnapped. Worse, this happens right outside Bartleby’s estate, so they also see Sleet and Dingo taking Bartleby to see Robotnik. This causes Manic to let slip that they tipped off surveillance about the hairdresser, and THANKFULLY, Sonia confesses that she gave away their secrets as well, so you know, Sonic’s actually motivated now.

I’m sorry, for fic purposes, I absolutely MUST quote Bartleby’s line here. “Don’t worry, all. If there’s one thing you can count on, it’s my Sonia.”

I love this jellyfish so much.

Sonia flawlessly rescues the aristocrats, but the boys run into trouble when trying to retrieve the tape. Luckily, the hairdresser picks up Sleet’s gun and joins the fight, and the three of them escape together. Thereby getting the boys on her side, I guess.

But I do have to roll my eyes at the hairdresser’s line. A gun is NOT just like using a blowdryer.

A glue-gun or charm stapler, which she would use to maintain the medieval hairstyles the aristocrats use, on the other hand…

But I digress. The boys find it funny, so they like her now.

And to keep all the previously arrested aristocrats (including Bartleby) safe, the hairdresser uses her brainwashing powers to make Robotnik, Sleet, and Dingo forget everything about the tape and what they heard on it. We assume this includes the fact that she can be used for spying purposes.

I am sure they will not come up with this plan again and everyone is now safe.

I...

There… are things… that could have been done differently.

They weren’t.

Communication. And being willing to engage across class and skill and cultural divides. These. My whole... #personal. Values. All that stuff.

I Am Annoyed By This Episode.

MOVING ON. COUNTERS!

Sonic implying less than 100% American heterosexuality: 7

Sonia in love with Bartleby: 6/37

Sonia in love with someone who is not Bartleby: 3/37

Sonia’s got super strength: 4

Manic’s thieving Is A Problem: 5

Tomorrow Is Another Day.

[yupuffin]

Here's a typed-up excerpt from 14-year-old me's Naruto fic! Featuring two OCs (one of which is the narrator) and one canon character, plus others mentioned by name. My favorite things about this fic were the character dynamics and believable interactions even between OC&OC and OC&canon characters, and I think this scene is a solid example of what I enjoyed. I made minor edits for grammar and wording in places, but the vast majority of the writing is untouched.

--

The two of us went to check on things inside the Sound Village after Yuugure finished calling Greim. Yuugure had used most of his chakra practicing, and I didn't want to exhaust him, so we walked at an easy pace.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. There was a lot of noise coming from behind a set of large doors, but that was true last time as well. It sounded like a group of people talking.

Yuugure leaned against a wall just as I heard a dull thud from farther down the tunnel, towards the entrance. I froze and listened, like an animal would. I heard footsteps; someone was coming.

"Let's go," I breathed sharply, heading as quietly as possible towards the echoing sound. I didn't check to see whether Yuugure was following me, though if he was, I was grateful for his silence.

I cautiously made my way to the entrance of the tunnel. At first I kept my distance from whoever was walking this way, in case they were an enemy. I had only half-expected to see Kabuto alone; either he had returned from the mission alone, or he had already been somewhere else in the tunnels. From the way he was headed, it seemed as though he had stopped somewhere else before coming this way.

I stood, thinking, unsure of hat to do; fortunately, Yuugure was there as well, and he stepped out to meet Kabuto from behind the corner. "So you're back," he remarked calmly.

"We had to cut it a little short," Kabuto responded quickly. He looked as if he might say something else, but he kept his mouth shut.

Since Kabuto already knew Yuugure was there, I didn't have a reason to be nervous, so I followed Yuugure into Kabuto's field of vision.

"Did something happen?" I asked, a little concerned.

For once, Kabuto hesitated before replying, his words slow and careful. "Nothing happened that involves you. Don't worry about it."

It was easy to tell that Kabuto was hiding something. He was either distressed, or he was formulating a plan. Or both.

"Nobody died?" I pressed, still not convinced.

Kabuto paused again. "Well, no. We achieved our goal, but..." He trailed off.

I persisted. "Where's Orochimaru?"

"Probably off checking on something."

I clenched my jaw. Why did Kabuto have to be so vague? Something must be bothering him; normally he was quite blunt. He didn't appear to be injured. and he hadn't alluded to anything being wrong with Orochimaru. Maybe if I asked him later he would be more open. After all, he had just been out on an intense mission; he probably needed some time to recover.

"All right," I concluded evenly. "Tell me if you need help with something." What was the most he could ask for? I doubted that he would return to his old, creepy self before the day was over, if something that occurred during the mission really troubled him.

I might have been wrong, though, because the hint of a smile alighted on his face. "Are you learning how to manipulate things from me?"

I froze. Was this an accusation, or a joke? Probably a mix of both. Either way, hesitating before Kabuto wasn't a good idea. "Yes, I think so."

This time I was sure he looked satisfied. "Good. That means I can trust you."

I exhaled, taking back my previous thought about his old self. He started to walk away.

I ran over my options; I could ask my question directly (I was too timid to do that), or I could wait until he told me himself (that was unlikely). Either way, I was stuck knowing nothing, unless I could think of something smart to say that would get me on his good side. But that was pretty much impossible, considering how perceptive he was.

He looked like he would ignore me for the rest of the day, but in the same instant that I thought that, Kabuto stopped.

"I can almost hear you thinking back there," he commented smoothly, turning back around. "Do you have something you want to say?"

I blinked a few times. And just as I thought that, too! I was convinced he could read my mind. But if I didn't answer, it would make him suspicious about trusting me (though I wasn't sure he really meant it the first time).

"Actually, yes," I responded, trying not to let my voice waver. "From the sound of it, Orochimaru is doing fine. And obviously, you're not hurt. It sounded like there was a problem with one of you during the mission, though."

At this point, it was hard to maintain my brave tone. "And that means... That means something must have happened to Kimimaro, right?"

Kabuto's expression didn't change, although he stayed silent for a moment to let his brain work. "You're learning fast. You make a good addition to our side."

He chuckled and then continued, his inflection more serious now. "Unfortunately, that's correct. Something happened just after we completed the mission, and he's not well. He won't be able to do any more missions for a while."

Saying nothing else, he continued down the hall and disappeared into the shadows.

"That was strange," Yuugure remarked from behind me.

I jumped; I had forgotten he was there.

"You're mimicking him, aren't you?" Yuugure asked playfully. "Except Kabuto's creepier than you are."

"He is creepy," I agreed shakily. I hadn't expected Kabuto's words to hit me as hard as they did. I thought it would just be something I shook off; on the contrary, my heart was pounding, and I felt vaguely nauseous.

"Something must have hit him in the head," Yuugure muttered. Then he met my eyes. "I thought you said that other guy scared you. Now you're acting like you're worried about him."

"It's... a little bit of both." I chose my words slowly and carefully.

Yuugure frowned. "I don't know what the two of you are talking about. Who is Kimimaro?"

I thought about how to answer. "I don't know."

"You have to know at least a little," Yuugure persisted. "Otherwise, you wouldn't be concerned."

My gaze fell to the floor. "I've only seen him. He doesn't know me."

"You said something to him at the clearing before they left."

"Well, he looked lonely. I couldn't let him leave without some kind of acknowledgment."

Yuugure looked exasperated. "We're going in a circle. This conversation is almost pointless."

I blinked. "Almost? What do you mean?"

His bright gold eyes were clear and knowing. "You argued with my statements. That means you care about him."

I opened and closed my mouth a few times, struggling to decide how to respond. "You're just as perceptive as Kabuto is."

"It's kind of obvious," Yuugure snickered, resting his arms on the back of his head as if watching the sky.

"Is that... bad?"

"I don't think so. Depends on how you look at it." His eyes didn't look focused on anything in particular. "You said you're from the Leaf Village, right?"

"Sort of. But does that make me the Sound Village's enemy?" I pointed to the band on my right shoulder. "Physically, I'm from the Sound Village. But historically, I'm from the Leaf. Does that make me a resident of both?"

"I think it does."

"That's good, right?"

Yuugure leaned his head back against his wrists. "It probably has its advantages." He closed his eyes for a few seconds as if to rest. Then he opened one eye and gave me a sideways glance. "You sure have a lot of questions."

I was going to reply, but before I could, he lowered his arms and smiled. "That's all right. I do, too. If I didn't have questions, I would never learn."

I kept my eyes down; my mind was elsewhere.

"So... it's not a bad thing if I make friends with people from this village? I'm going to see my old teammates in a month, but... until then..."

"You're a bit confused, huh?" Yuugure asked. "If I were you, I would be confused."

Unsure of what he meant by that, I didn't reply.

"I don't think it matters who your friends are," he continued. "As long as they don't try to hurt you or do bad things. But from the sound of it, it's hard to determine what things are bad things when you're a ninja. I wouldn't know, because I've mostly been by myself since I left the Shimmer Society two years ago."

At this point, I was thoroughly befuddled, so I stayed silent. Yuugure frowned at my lack of response, but there was a glimmer of playfulness in his eyes. "Am I thinking too far into this?"

"Um..." I shook myself off. "No. Thinking is good. It's just that... you're being a little confusing."

Yuugure grinned sheepishly and changed the subject. "Do you want to go train with me?"