#he's not really but he's supposed to be a clone of him

[dubiousanon]

☀️ Even Shikamaru's PARENTS knew they were dating. Naruto even asked their permission to marry their son. All of them assumed Shikamaru knew.

☀️ Shikamaru would covet naps together. Anytime he can get Naruto to be still more than two seconds, he'd swoop on and capitalize on the opportunity. Oh, you're a little tired from training? Bed. Now.

☀️ To Shikamaru, Naruto is the height of interesting. He's the most amazing, most brilliant, most spectacular. This kind of feeds into his "there's no way he could like me" mindset.

☀️ Naruto could do the least platonic shit on the planet and Shikamaru would still question it. I just imagine Naruto casually stepping into the shower with him and asking him to wash his back and Shikamaru would still be like "well, maybe he just needs help reaching!"

☀️ Brother in arms, his specialty is a jutsu that makes literally more clones than any one person could ever need. If he needed help scrubbing his own back, he would have it.

☀️ Naruto knows nothing about gift giving. He's never really gotten a gift himself, but he knows fruit is something you're supposed to give on special occasions. Cue him randomly giving Shikamaru apples, oranges, strawberries, even entire watermelons at random. Shikamaru would take them without question, too.

☀️ Shikamaru's favorite hobby switches from cloud watching to Naruto watching. Naruto trains daily and it's Shikamaru's favorite hobby to just camp out under a tree and profit. Naruto with his big grin, practically glowing, golden under the sun? Any day of the week, Shikamaru will be there.

☀️ Naruto can eat as much as he wants at Ichiraku's. No amount is too high. Shikamaru will abuse the Nara clan's reserves. Feeding him his favorite meal is one of his greatest satisfactions.

☀️Growing up alone, Naruto definitely learned how to cook the basics, at a minimum. He'd make an effort to learn more from Yoshino too because it's always been his dream to be able to make a home cooked meal for his family.

☀️ Shikamaru would bite. Naruto may be the more animalistic one of the two, but Shikamaru would want to know what Naruto tasted like, how pink his skin could get, what shades he'd bruise in.

☀️ Naruto would adore hugging. His arms would be around Shikamaru's neck, him draping into his side, sagging into his arms, practically hanging off of him any chance he could get.

☀️ Shikamaru planned to stay a regular jonin but eh, that's not going to work. Naruto made a vague joke about Shikamaru becoming his advisor one day, so now Shikamaru is going to dedicate his entire life and all his effort into being qualified for that position! Just in case! Tee hee!

☀️ Naruto would steal his clothes. Non-stop, every day, all the time. He'd love the smell of Shikamaru and would just want to drown in it endlessly.

☀️ Shikamaru would be the type of weirdo to buy them a house. The perfect one would go on the market and sure, it's a little premature and assumption to make, but he'd calculate the pros and cons and go for it.

☀️ Naruto would want to hold hands constantly. Even before they started dating, there's so much physical contact he missed out on growing up. He'd want to be close to someone, and the fact that Shikamaru allows it? The fact that he isn't annoyed? Naruto can hardly believe it.

☀️ Shikamaru... let's just say bro wouldn't be lazy in bed. We all know what's lurking in there.

☀️ Naruto definitely has more stamina than him though and would want to keep going. Do with that what you will.

☀️ Shikamaru thinks he's the lucky one, someone so gorgeous and strong being with someone drab like him. Meanwhile, Naruto thinks he's the lucky one. Shikamaru is so smart and level-headed, and the fact that Shikamaru is with someone as annoying as him? Insane to him.

☀️ Naruto could be screaming at the top of his lungs and Shikamaru would never, ever find him annoying.

☀️ Again, the sillies ♥️ I love them forever and ever I need MORE of them in my life

ShikaNaru Headcanons

☀️Shikamaru definitely realizes his feelings first and it is 100% an "oh, shit" moment.

☀️I imagine the Nara clan to love not as angrily as the Uchiha, but just as obsessively. Where the Uchiha seek to almost possess, the Nara clan covets knowledge. In this case, Shikamaru wants to know everything about Naruto— no detail is too small.

☀️ I'm not saying Shikamaru is stalking him, but he'd definitely follow him everywhere. Like, he's not trying to hide. Naruto just hasn't noticed because it's... Well, it's Naruto.

☀️And the few times he does notice him it's just— "Wow, what're you doing here Shikamaru? 😀" baby you should be asking why you've seen him ten different times this week and it's only Monday.

☀️Nara Fixation Nara Fixation Nara Fixation Nara Fixation Nara Fixation Nara Fixation, did I say Nara Fixation yet?

☀️Naruto wants for nothing because somehow, Shikamaru always knows exactly what he needs and is able to predict exactly when he's going to need it.

☀️ Naruto never quite realizes the depth of the obsession/love. He's just completely oblivious to the fact that Shikamaru is kind of, slightly, a little bit (maybe a lot a bit) insane. With a cherry on top.

☀️ Lowkey, I am a huge fan of crazy Shikamaru. Like, not outwardly crazy, but "I know your height, weight, regular resting heart rate, wrist diameter, and how many times you've said 'believe it' today" crazy Shikamaru. Knows too much Shikamaru.

☀️Naruto 100% just assumes they're dating after a while of certain details accumulating. Shikamaru feeds him like, daily. Shikamaru has shared a bed with him several times. They spend a lot of time together. They hold hands. Shikamaru knows like, everything about him somehow.

☀️ Naturally, they must've been dating this entire time and Naruto simply didn't notice until now. And because Naruto has zero experience with healthy relationships, he just accepts this as fact and moves on with his life.

☀️ Shikamaru when Naruto grabs him by the face on day, plants a huge kiss on him with no context, and then skips off: 👁️👄👁️

☀️ Come on, it'd be so funny.

☀️ Insert Naruto also knowing a surprising amount about Shikamaru, because he's more attentive than people give him credit for. Shikamaru follows him around so much, of course he learns about him over time. He may be an idiot, but he's not a moron. Or... something like that.

☀️ Naruto is just happy someone actually wants to be around him. Sasuke is Sasuke, Sakura constantly yells at him, Kakashi literally runs, Yamato is only around for training, and Sai just insults him in increasing intervals when they're together.

☀️ Touch-Starved! Naruto vs. Can't get enough of touching him! Shikamaru! Go! Fight!

☀️ Shikamaru "he's never going to love me" Nara and Naruto "I wonder when Shikamaru is gonna propose" Uzumaki

☀️ Naruto just goes to the court house and files the documents himself. Surprise, Shikamaru. Not only does he love you, you've been married for the past four months.

☀️ Alternatively, Shikamaru could pull the same move. Oh, you kissed me on the mouth? Sounds like a proposal to me.

☀️ For a certified genius, Shikamaru would absolutely be the kind of idiot to assume Naruto couldn't ever return his feelings. There could be so much evidence to the contrary and it really WOULD take an entire kiss to the lips to convince him.

☀️ No worries, Naruto is more than willing to oblige.

☀️ Basically um I love them, they're both smart AND stupid in different ways, but they make it work. And nobody can change my mind.

[jazziejax]

𝐒𝐦𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - David Cliff x Black!OC

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - In which David meets a woman so alluring in a place so vibrant and magnetic

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - seductiveness(???), drinking, idk really know….

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - this was supposed to be something small and one off, that why the songs I chose are basic but it turned into something more…she want even supposed to have a name but here we are. UNEDITED, sorry for any spelling errors and grammar mistakes.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 7,542+

The chatter within the café was soft, the sound of ceramic dishes cloning together louder than the sound of actual voices within the small establishment. David sipped at the hot coffee from the beautifully colored mug he was given, the taste of three creamers and an unknown amount of sugars packets making the beverage just to his liking. The sun was shining through the windows of the place, surprisingly with gentle rays in the summer heat. The soft bell above the door would ring every now and then, people leaving with their order or a new person entering only minutes after the other. And although everything seemed to swell on this fine summer day, David couldn’t help but be a little down as he sat across from Margaret, sipping at his drink

“You’re talented, David.” The woman across from him said, her head tilting a little as she started in his eyes. And the man couldn’t help the way he thought she looked a little adorable any time she did that, fighting the urge to upturn the corner of his lip. “More than talented. But if we’re gonna make you the next big thing, we have to be a little more strategic.” She finished, tapping her manicured nails against the table.

David leaned back in his chair, unimpressed. “Strategic as in what? A gimmick? A viral moment?” He asked in a dull tone, fed up with the way the industry seemed to enjoy curated content rather than authenticity. He has all that, he had the life most artist wanted, the money at least. He just wanted to make music the people’s loved, music that spoke to others. Music that he felt was worthy. Not some pop record that he would have to preform at ‘I Heart Radio’.

Margaret sighed. “Strategic as in exposure.” She said, a small smirk on her lips as she placed her hands on top of the table. “The right rooms, the right performances, the right people.” She grinned. “And I’ve heard about this place once—Smoke and Satin. It’s supposedly the real deal. Classic jazz spot, live music, fancy dressed, invite-only type of scene.”

David raised a skeptical brow, his back still against the metal chair as he tapped his long finger on the side of the hot mug. “And you’ve been there?” He questioned.

This caused Margaret to hesitate, the pale girl opening her mouth for a response as she moved to play with her long brunette locks. “Well…” She began, her voice a little high her than before as David’s brow arched higher, his eyes squinting some. “Well, uh, not exactly. But I know people who have.” She said with an unsure laugh.

David blinked at her. “Do you?” He asked, his tone not changing from before, even at her obviously apparent lie. Margaret let out a sigh, shoulders deflecting some at her stupid attempt to hide anything from the observer man. “Yeah, no.” She said a little dejectedly. David pursed his lips with a nod, but Margaret was quick to reiterate. “But I did know a guy that lived in the apartment complex above the joint sometimes I cooks hear the music when I was in the lobby.” She tried to reassure. David just blinked at her, his eyes still slightly squinted as he brought the cup down from his lips.

“What, you used to date this guy or something?” He asked. He couldn’t help but change the subject at her words, because now he was more curious about that than the actual music spot. Plus, the tension and…situationshhip between David and Margaret was no secret, to them at least, they knew. But it was nothing serious, and the other wasn’t sure of their partner wanted it to be serious, so they were in this weird state of limbo and sexual desire.

Margaret sighed at his words, rolling her eyes at him as a don’t smirk graced her face. “That’s not important.”

“Well, I think it is important.” David slightly grinned. “I mean, I’m technically going to this man’s house. Imagine he comes downstairs to see us in his lobby.” He said, and he couldn’t help but laugh at the thought, of Margaret bringing her current “fling” to her old guys place of residence, even though they were technically waiting in this supposed renowned music spot.

“It’s gonna be fine, David.” Margaret grinned along with him. “If you stall on this anymore, I���ll start thinking you’re getting cold feet, mister.” She said, raising her brows at him before being her coffee to her lips. David jerked his head back at her, a playful smirk on his lips. “David does not get cold feet. There is nothing cold about David Cliff.” He smirked. Margaret just rolled her eyes at him, bring the cup down as David’s smile widened some more. “You should know.” He stated. And Margaret almost chocked on the hot beverage at his words, looking up into the seductive eyes of the man across from her who still held a grin.

David was doing anything to distract his mind from the stress that came with music most time, and he couldn’t help but be a little intrigued by the music spot, Smoke & Satin. He didn’t want to be just another industry puppet. He wanted his music to be felt, not mass-produced. He wanted it to be passionate and for it to have meaning. And if Smoke and Satin really had that authenticity, maybe it was worth checking out.

It wasn’t long before night came, and that’s when they had planned to visit the spot. That night, they arrived at a place called Lullaby’s Lounge, the building that housed Smoke and Satin. It looked like something out of another era—a blend of modern upkeep and vintage charm, resembling an old luxury hotel. The golden lighting from the entrance cast a warm glow on the polished black-and-white tiled floors. The place has sort of an art deco style to it, the chandler’s hanging making the place bright but calm. It was nothing like the grittier, hole-in-the-wall places David expected from a so-called authentic jazz spot. He was dressed in a normal suit, although he spiced his outfit up with a green dress shirt and sweater, giving the outfit a pop of color.

Margaret was dressed nicely as well, her long brown hair flowing down her back, dressed in a simple black dress that reached below her knees with a square neckline. They both analyzed the room as they walked in, but were intercepted by the polite voice of a man near the door. “How may I help you two this evening?” They looked over to see a ginger man, dressed in a simple tuxedo. Margaret smiled at him. “Uh, we’d like to go into Smoke and Satin, please.” She said. The man grinned, giving them a small and barley noticeable bow. “Right this way.” He said before walking before them, heading to the left.

Since the apartment and the bar were essentially different spots, he led them to an area directly parallel to the door, passing for the feminine windows until they made it to a hotels booth. Now David thought the club being there was pretty obvious for a place that’s supposed to be weird if mouth, could see the place with a simple turn of your head once your entered. But he figured it was that way to not disturb the actual residents of the complex above that were just trying to go about their day.

“Here we are.” The ginger man said, leading them to the small line outside the large, dark wooden doors behind the woman at the podium. “You two have a wonderful evening.” He flashed them a pearly grin before moving on his way, back to where he found them. David tried to ignore the look the man gave them, noticing the small eye sawing the glint in his eye. He tossed the interaction up to him assuming David and Margaret were a couple, and that was fine by him.

As they stood in line outside Smoke and Satin, the warm night air carried the distant hum of jazz from within. The line moved slowly, filled with people dressed in sleek suits, silk dresses, looking effortless out together. Margaret adjusted the long strap of her small bag, shifting onto one heeled foot. “You’re quiet.” She said softly, looking over at him.

David exhaled, eyes scanning the golden-lit entrance. “Just taking it in.”

Margaret smirked. “I doubt that, you’re never taking things in. You’re thinking something.”

David soared her a small glance, trying to hide to stop the smile that wanted to appear in his lips at just how much she knew him. His gaze then drifted back to the doors behind the hostess, trying to catch a glimpse into the place anytime another wakes in as the door was held by the tall man standing next to it. “I don’t like scenes like this.” He stated.

This caused her to raise a brow, ceasing her arms. “Scenes like what? Exclusive? High-end? Full of people who actually know good music?” She inquired playfully, causing him to cut his eyes at her. “Scenes where people think they know good music.” He reiterated firmly.

“You’re such a snob.” Margaret scoffed, though a grin was apparent in her lips.

David smirked. “I’m particular.”

She sighed, tilting her head toward the entrance. “Look, all I’m saying is—if this place is as good as I’ve heard, maybe you should enjoy it instead of tearing it apart before we even get in.”

David rolled his shoulders. “We’ll see.”

Margaret studied him for a second before nudging him lightly with her elbow. “You need to get out of your head. Have a drink. Maybe even—God forbid—have a good time.” She stated.

David shook his head, but there was amusement behind his eyes. “I’ll consider it.” He said with a coy shrug, causing the girl to let out a small laugh, both unbeknownst to the man they waited in line behind them, eyeing the two.

The line eventually led them to the front desk, where they were met with a knowing smile from the host. “Reservations?” The tan skinned Asian woman asked them, flashing them a polite smile. Margaret glanced towards David at that, a little taken aback at the new information, before looking back at her. “I didn’t know we needed them.” She said, letting out a small nervous laugh.

The host gave a polite but firm smile. “Most nights, no. But when she sings, we fill up quick.” She said, giving them a light nod.

“She?” Margaret and David asked at the same time.

“Stella Mougly.” The name was spoken with reverence from the hostess and a deep voice from behind them. Before either Margaret or David could turn around and respond to the woman in front of them, a man stepped in beside them—a tall, well-dressed figure with light brown skin, enticing eyes and an air of familiarity about the place. “Let them in, they’re with me.” He said smoothly. “You got it, P.” The woman at the desk said as she gave a playfully stern nod. The man, ‘P’, as she called him, gave her a small laugh, his voice deep as he passed the pair and moved over to the doors.

David and Margaret exchanged looks before trailing behind the man, who led them through the lobby and into Smoke and Satin. The interior was cozy—their lighting was romantic, the seats were covered in this sexy green velvet, the floors had the same polished checkered patterns as the thick stripes in the lobby. David didn’t see how such a place bled authenticity.

Their guide turned to them with a grin as they walked through the establishment. “Lucky night for you two.” He said. “I’m Pierre, the manger.” He said before turning back around and maneuvering his way though . They walked through what looked to be the common area, some people sat in booths and at well decorated tables that were wrapped in a thick table cloth. This area also seemed to be more crowded, booths lined the wall while the tables were close enough for a person to fit through.

They thought their seats were gonna be there but they continued to follow the man that invited them in, not questioning his friendly nature. Pierre passed the bar on the other side of the wall, the trio walking down the checkered path that was available in case you wanted another drink. Passing the bar, he spoke to the man behind the counter. “Wassup, Bernard.” He called out, causing the man to look up. The brown skinned man with a thick mustache smiled at him, giving him a small salute as he flashed his perfectly straight teeth with his silver grills. “Wassup, P!” He cheered before going back to mixing the drinks in front of him.

The pair behind the tall man were then led to further into the room, passing some men who opened a velvet rope for them and then going down some steps that separated this sitting area from another. This section was separated from the other, an styled a little different but still styled cohesively. The floors were a dark brown wood, matching the tall walls not covered in picture frames, records and instruments. The lighting was dim and candles sat at the center of the occupied tables, encasing them into this romantic atmosphere. There was plush red-velvet seating, chandeliers that dripped from the ceiling like golden constellations and hum of conversation mixed with the soft melodies of a live band warming up.

Margaret and David were in love with the place as is, but this section was something more. It was alive.

Pierre led them through the large room, passing people dressed to the nines and in chatting away. The man stopped a table in the center of the room, the chairs almost like small couches with how large and plus they were. They were also set up sort of like a booth, two small sofas on either side of table while the other ends held large cushioned chairs as well. “These are some of the best seats in the house.” Pierre smirked as he took a seat in one of the chairs at the end of the table, while gesturing for David and Margaret to have a seat on the plush sofa.

They sat down and almost immediately, a waiter was at their table. “Any drinks in mind?” They looked up to see the same ginger man from earlier, a polite smile on his face as she place the leather menus down on the table. Margaret and David glanced at each other since they didn’t know what the place had.

“I’ll take an a sidecar.” Pierre said, not even opening his menu for food as he looked down at the fancy silver watch on his left wrist.

“Uh, I’ll have a Negroni, I’d you serve that.” Margaret said. The ginger man smiled at her whilst nodding. “Yes, we do.” He said before turning to David, and the man couldn’t help but to see that same flint in his eye. “And you, sir?” He asked, not even bothering to write any of the drinks down. “I’ll take an old fashioned.” David stated. The bright haired man hummed. “Ah, excellent choice, monsieur. I’ll have those to you in no time, let me know when you want to dinner.” He said before drifting away from their table in the blink of an eye.

One he was gone, Pierre looked at the pair, a soft smile on his face. “May I ask the name of the two people I invited to enjoy dinner with me?” He asked as he picked up the match box from the center of the table and sparked a light, the small ember brightening his face as he leaned to light the wax sticks at the center of the table. Their attention snapped over from admiring at the place to the man’s at the other end of the table, watching as he set the atmosphere further.

“Oh! I’m Margaret.” She smiled at him.

“David.” The man said with a small smile and a simple nod of acknowledgement. Pierre nodded with a hum, sparing a quick glance down at his watch again before looking back up with a grin. “Well, welcome to Smoke & Satin, one of the best places on earth. Time spent here is more than just an event. It’s a feeling not many get to experience, so I hope you enjoy.” He said. And it seemed that checking the time on his wrist time everything perfectly, since the waiter from before being over their drinks on the silver platter. “Here are your drinks.” He said, sitting there glasses down on the crème colored cloth that draped the table.

“Thank you.” David said, making sure to give the man his gratitude. “You are welcome, monsieur.” The man said before sitting a drink down in front Pierre. “Thanks, Hughy.” The green eyed man thanked him ginger. “No problem, P.” He said before walking away. David couldn’t help but to squint his eyes as he sipped his drink, not only at the intersection between the two, but also just at the ginger man in general.

Is he…flirting with me? He questioned himself as he smacked his lips a little, savoring the smooth bourbon. The thought lingered in his mind as he sat the glass down, questioning the eyes and the doorman turned waiter was giving him, and the French word that simply meant ‘Sir’, but felt like it had a different meaning to him. They were only got a few sips into the beverage before the light around them dimmed further, causing the room hush. A spotlight flared to life, illuminating the red curtains on the stage about twenty steps away.

A smooth voice resonated through the speakers, deep and velvety as it spoke. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have our most esteemed guest of the evening. Sit back and relax to the most wonderful, the most talented, and just down right gorgeous… Stella Mougly.”

The curtains parted.

And there she was.

She was dressed in a sheer, tiger-print babydoll dress, that thin material shimmering under the soft glow of the stage light as the music began to play. The delicate fabric draped over her body like liquid silk, giving teasing glimpses of her figure. There were specs of glitter dusted across her brown skin, making her glow like something celestial. Her hair was long and black with subtle waves in it, making her look even more exotic and intoxicated. Dainty gold jewelry adorned her wrists and neck, catching the light with every subtle movement. Her heels were like gold as well, a thin strap going across her ankle and across the ends of her polished toes.

“Ooh, la-la-la-la.” Was sung by the deep voices of the band as they eased into the song.

And then she sang.

“I did you wrong. My heart went out to play. But in the game I lost you."

"What a price to pay.” As she sung that last part, the lights became a little brighter to show the men that were singing as they played the instrument behind her. She smiled as she spared them a quick glance before going back to singing.

Her voice—soft, sultry, effortlessly controlled—wrapped around the melody of 'Ooh, Baby, Baby' by Smokey Robinson & The Miracles. The live band played in the shadows behind the spotlight, letting her be the centerpiece, the guiding force.

“I'm cryin'. Ooh, baby, baby. Ooh, baby, baby.”

She moved with ease, swaying with the music as she glided across the stage in a slow pace. The band’s harmonies rolled like smooth waves beneath her voice, their presence steady but never overwhelming. Stella’s sultry tone melted into the melody, drawing the audience into her grasp as effortlessly as a siren luring sailors to sea. She moved with intention—each step, each glance, each soft note weaving an intoxicating spell.

“Mis-takes, I know I’ve made a few,” She crooned, her voice dipping into a gentle rasp that sent shivers down spines. She reached out towards the crowd, her nude colored nails catching the dim glow of the chandeliers above. “But I’m only human, You’ve made mistakes too…oooohhh.”

The hush in the room was thick with longing. Conversations had faded into whispers, drinks were momentarily forgotten. Eyes followed her every move as she sauntered toward the grand piano at the far end of the stage, closer to the crowd. “I’m cryin’,” She sang again, this time softer, letting the words linger before rolling into the familiar, aching refrain. “Ooh, baby, baby…”

The pianist’s fingers ghosted over the keys, his touch delicate yet assured. Stella trailed a fingertip along the glossy black surface of the instrument as she circled it, her dress shimmering under the low lights.

“Ooh, baby, baby,” She repeated, her voice like warm honey, eyes lidded as she let the music carry her, eventually making her way atop the grand piano at the edge of the stage the the help of a hidden step stool.

“I'm just about at the end of my rope.” She sung into the microphone as she came into a resting position upon the sleek instrument effortlessly, leaning her weight on her right hand while her legs were thrown to the side in a seductive crossing. A small bouquet of roses sat at the center of the piano, wrapped in a satin gold bow. “But I can't stop tryin', I can't give up hope.” She continued, her eyes flickering over the crowd she could barely see due to the bright light beaming down in her.

David was entranced.

The world blurred. The chatter of the audience, the clinking of glasses, even Margaret beside him—it all faded. There was only her. He watched as he pulled a rose from the bundle before her, the dark red a nice contrast to her honey skin that glistened with her every movement.

“ 'Cause I feel that one day I'll hold you near.” She sung, her voice lifted highly match that of dear Smokey as her eyes drifted to the young man playing with focused intensity. He faced up at her, flashing her a large white smile that complimented his deep skin well. “Whisper, "I still love you. Until that day is here.” She sung softly as she leaned further towards the man the played the piano before her, letting the petals of the flower brush against his lips before trailing it down. She ran the flower along his chest that was covered by the black and white tuxedo.

“I'm cryin'.” The pianist stole a quick glance at her, his fingers never faltering but his ears burning red. Her heels dangled, catching the light, and the faintest hint of perfume drifted toward the pianist, who was doing his best to keep his focus on the music rather than the woman now practically lounging atop his instrument. A smirk tugged at her lips as she leaned closer, watching the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when he noticed her lingering presence.

She was practically laid out on top of the instrument now in order to tease the musician.

“Ooh, baby, baby,” She cooed one last time, drawing out the final note, her voice floating like smoke, lingering even as the music faded. With a teasing smile, she let the flower drift lower as she turned over onto her back, its stem tracing the air just above his knuckles. He flinched slightly, barely suppressing a flustered chuckle, his dimples making an appearance as he tried to shake it off. “Ooh-ooh, baby, baby. Oo-hoo-ooh, baby, baby. Ooh-ooh.” She continued to sing, laid out on her back as one of her legs bent at the knee, her full body shining under the spotlight.

A beat of silence followed before the applause erupted, a mix of whistles, cheers, and appreciative murmurs filling the room. David blinked at it ended, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was hiding as she small smile graced his lips before he began calling along with them. The lights the shift off again, encapsulating them in darkness as they waited for the next act.

"Ladies and gentleman, welcome, The Midnight Muses." The lights slowly brightened as the unmistakable drumbeat of Be My Baby by The Ronettes began, that iconic, heart-thudding rhythm filling the air. A hush fell over the crowd, anticipation thick as smoke in the dimly lit lounge. There, with a soft glow illuminating the stage, Stella stood—standing tall at the center, draped in a new black boa that had to be given to her in the darkness, her presence commanding yet effortlessly elegant as she danced along to the thumping beat before they began.

To her left, slightly behind, stood her backup singers, dressed in matching black baby doll dresses. Their silhouettes were sharp, their high ponytails swaying ever so slightly as they moved in perfect synchronicity.

“The night we met, I knew I needed you so. And if I had the chance, I’d never let you go.” Stella sang, her voice warm and inviting, wrapping around the melody like silk. The boa curled in the crook of her elbows, its feathery texture contrasting against her smooth skin. Her backup singers swayed, their harmonies tight, a perfect echo to her lead. “So won't you say you love me?” She continued, following the same choreography as the girls behind her, being her arms out in a pleasing motion. “I'll make you so proud of me. We'll make 'em turn their heads every place we go.”

Her eyes flickered across the crowd, a knowing smile tugging at her lips as she shifted her grip on the boa, her fingers brushing against the soft feathers as the chilies dropped. “So won't you, please.”

“Be my, be my baby.” The girls behind her sung, their voice harmonized perfectly, the sound soft but powerful.

“Be my little baby?” Stella continued, her voice capitulating the perfect raspiness of Ronnie Spector. “My one and only baby.”

“Say you'll be my darlin'.”

“Be my, be my baby.”

“Be my baby now (My one and only baby) Whoa-oh-oh-oh.”

Then, as the music swelled, she took her first step down the stage’s grand staircase. She moved slowly, purposefully, letting the song breathe as she descended into the audience.

“I’ll make you happy, baby, just wait and see, For every kiss you give me, I'll give you three.” She promised, each note carrying a teasing lilt as she eased onto the dining floor, the crowd clapping along, enchanted by her presence among them. She trialed her fingers along some propels shoulder as she passed them, singing powerfully within the audience.

David was watching, his eyes never leaving her, even as he took a large sip from his glass, gaze trained on her at her over the brim as she moved within the crowed. And he could’ve sworn her eyes caught his as she continued to sing. “Oh, since the day I saw you, I have been waiting for you. You know I will adore you 'til eternity.”

From the moment she stepped off that stage, his eyes never left her. He leaned back in his seat, one arm resting along the back of his chair, but his body was taut, his focus razor-sharp.

And then before he could even think about it—she was there. At the same table as him, singing her beautiful song. She draped an arm around Pierre, offering him a soft smile through her singing before slowly dragged it away, her soft hands growing over his expansive suit.

She then sifted around the table, leading to the boa trailed along David’s shoulders, a feather-light touch against his skin. His breath caught, though he masked it well. The world around him dimmed, the clinking of glasses and murmured conversations fading into nothing. Her voice—low, sultry, hypnotic—wrapped around him like the boa itself, pulling him deeper into her gravity.

“So won’t you, please…” She continued as she pulled the black scarf around the man, whose eye didn’t leave her once. The words curled between them, her eyes locked onto his. “Be my, be my baby?”

David’s lips parted, but he said nothing, just watching—captivated, mesmerized.

She was singing to him. She had to be. He knew it. He felt it.

“My one and only baby,” She crooned, the intensity of their eye contact sending a charge through the space between them as the Blake scarf slowly forged from his figure. “Be my baby now!”

Then—just as quickly as she had ensnared him—she was gone.

She turned on the “Whoa-oh-oh-oh!” spinning away, leaving nothing but the lingering warmth of her presence and the faint scent of of jasmine as she moved through the tables and back to the stage.

The crowd erupted, their cheers filling the lounge as she hit the final notes, her backup singers right in step, harmonizing flawlessly until the music came to a dazzling close.

A thunderous applause followed, whistles and calls of her name ringing out as she stood center stage once more, soaking it all in.

And David—David sat there, still feeling the ghost of her boa on his shoulders, still hearing her voice in his ears. For the first time in a long time, the infamous playboy was at a loss for words.

Stella smiled, radiant and full of life and she waved and bowed to the crowed with her singers next her. She then turned to blow kisses to the band behind her. The stage lights dimmed again, bringing everything back to its romantic atmosphere as she gave the crowd another playful wave before disappearing backstage.

Pierre turned to them with a deep chuckle, still elated from the small performance as he watched David and Margaret‘s expression. “She gets to you, huh?”

Margaret exhaled. “She’s incredible. That was… effortlessly amazing.”

David frantically blinked, still processing. “She’s a true performer. But more than that—her voice is clean. You hear how she bent those high notes? That’s a real soprano, but she’s got jazz in her chest. Her breath control is crazy.”

Pierre’s grin widened as he slightly arched a brow at the man adjacent to him. “Well, look who knows there stuff.” He said with a small smirk, gesturing to David as he glanced at Margaret, who shared a small smile with the man as well. “I told you. Smoke and Satin isn’t just a place. It’s a feeling. The history here is deep.” He said, sitting up more in is seat as he began to explain the lore of Smoke and Satin, not caring if they didn’t care to hear.

“As you can tell by walking in, Smoke and Satin is the restaurant/ jazz bar, connected to the apartment complex that we call The Lullaby’s Lounge. The complex was actually the first black owned business in Los Angeles, which sort of gave it an easy target for racism, especially being in closer to white neighborhoods of that time. All people tried their damndest to turn this into another example of a ghetto, white people to love a point that all blacks were alike while black people thought the others that lived there were saditty and sell outs. Not long after all their attention since opening, the establishment gained a lot of traction.” He stated.

“It soon became a place of refuge during the civil rights era. Rallies, meetings, after school programs, different practices, hell, church, were all held at this building at some point. Right in that room over there.” He said counting over to the lit section that the pair had to walk though to get to the section they were in. He then gestured to the room they were sitting in. “This little VIP-esque section was actually hidden. It was a secret jive joint that brought in black folks from all over. A place for grown folk to unwind from their hard days of trying to gain freedom. This room would hold everything from poetry to swing dances. It’s a place of comfort for the community, and it still is in way. The owners still live in the building to this day.” He explained.

David and Margaret blinked and gaped in astonishment at the life history they were sitting in, getting to experience.

“Time passed and this section became a restaurant, a cover up for the secret room in the back when cops started snooping around just because they wanted to. It then became really popular among famous jazz musicians and Black Hollywood elites of that time, and it never really lost its touch. The shtick of the exclusive word of mouth thing was something that rich people enjoyed.” He explained, his bright eyes drifting between the two as he told them the run down. “Traction didn’t start becoming what it was with reservations and stuff until Lady Stella showed up.” He said, not missing the way David’s eyes seemed to glint at the sound of the woman’s name.

“She was getting major attention for not only her voice. I, on the other hand, started out working here as a creek receptionist, but I’ve been a loyal customer from the beginning. My parents took me to Lullaby’s all the time growing up, that’s why when business stated getting more than serious around here with how money Stella was bringing in, I was allowed to take over to help the elderly owners run things smoothly. And that’s essentially how Smoke and Satin became what it was today, though I would owe majority of my thanks and graduations to Stella for that.”

Margaret and David listened as Pierre explained the history of Lullaby’s Lounge—how it was the first Black-owned housing complex in Los Angeles, how it became a refuge during the Civil Rights era, how jazz legends and Hollywood’s Black elite once filled these very booths. And how Stella, in many ways, revived the magic.

Pierre then smirked. “This place only comes to you when you need it, not when you just want it, die to his rich history. I like to call it magic sometimes.” He said.

Margaret leaned forward, her fingers lightly tracing the rim of her glass as she took in Pierre’s words. Her expression was one of quiet awe, her usual sharp demeanor softened by the weight of the history he had just unraveled. “That’s… incredible.” She murmured, glancing around the lounge as if seeing it with new eyes. “I mean, I knew this place had a vibe, but I didn’t realize it was history.” She then smirked, shaking her head slightly. “And magic? That’s a hell of a way to put it.” She glanced around the lounge, her gaze landing on the framed photographs lining the walls. “I’ll admit, though… this place does feel different.”

David, meanwhile, sat back in his chair, absorbing it all in his own way. His gaze drifted across the room—from the framed black-and-white photographs on the walls to the way the candlelight flickered against the mahogany wood. He exhaled, a slow, measured breath, through his nose, drumming his fingers against the table. “So, what—you think certain people just end up here for a reason?” His tone was casual, but there was something thoughtful beneath it. He doubted he believed the useless tale for even a second, but why did he wait for a reasonable response from the man. Why did he sound curious?

Pierre leaned back in his chair, nodding once. “Something like that. People don’t just stumble into Lullaby’s Lounge. They find it when they need it, even if they don’t realize it.” He gestured around. “That history, that energy? It sticks. And somehow, it knows when to pull the right folks in.”

Margaret studied Pierre for a moment before shrugging. “I don’t know if I buy all that, but I do know I don’t wanna leave anytime soon.” She took another sip of her drink, looking satisfied.

David chuckled, shaking his head as he pushed his chair back. “Well, I guess we’ll see if I start feeling enlightened after a bathroom break.”

Pierre smirked knowingly. “You might.”

David shot him a look but didn’t press. Instead, he stood, rolling his shoulders before heading toward the back of the lounge, weaving through the tables as the warm hum of conversation and music followed him.

David exited the lavatory shortly after entering and a good wash to his hands, but he wasn’t quite ready to return to the table yet. Do instead, he made his way to the long, mahogany bar that lined the far wall, lining up with the same bar in the upper lounge, the bars connecting with a small set of store and separated by a tiny wooden door that stopped at hip height. His trudge over to the bar with the lit counter top was slow, his hand in his pockets as he contemplated what drink to order next, and questing if he should get food.

And that’s when he saw her. The ethereal being from the stage.

Stella.

Up close, she was even more stunning. The slights sheen of sweat on her collarbones from dancing under that beaming light, the slight smudging of her mauve lipstick—signs of a woman who had just poured her soul into a performance. She leaned against the bar, stirring her drink absentmindedly.

David wasn’t one to freeze up, so before he could even think about he it, he was at the bar standing next to her as he ordered his own drink. He did a double take the at same ginger man, Hughy, behind the bar, mixing up drinks. Hughy glanced up at him with a small smile and an arched brow, waiting for his order. “A Black Orchid, please.” He stated—a rare, moody cocktail with an air of mystery, much like the man himself. The choice catching Stella’s attention just enough for her to glance over.

Hughy brows raised in surprise before he finished the drink he was making for a man at the other end of the bar and began to work on David’s. Hughy’s eyes then drifted to the singing woman who glanced over at David, a small smirk drifting upon his features.

The drink arrives in a sleek coupe glass, its deep, inky purple hue shimmering under the low bar lights. A single black orchid petal floats delicately on the surface, almost too perfect to disturb. The scent carries hints of dark berries, aged rum, and the faintest trace of smokiness, intriguing yet smooth. He was quite surprised they even had the drink, not many places did.

Stella, perched gracefully at the bar with her own drink in front of her, watches as he lifts the glass to his lips, ones she couldn’t help notice the plumpness of. Her curiosity is piqued not only by the drink, but as well as the handsome man’s next to her. .

“That’s not on the menu.” She remarks, voice low and velvety as she looked over at him, her head rested on her arms lazily, giving her this sultry look as she gazed at him.

David softly grinned, taking a slow sip as he looked over at her. “It didn’t have to be. I hear you can order anything at this bar.” He said with a simple shrug. Stella nodded at that with a subtle hum that he could barely hear over the music and chatter that filled the vibrant atmosphere, causing him to lean closer subconsciously. “So, this is your first time here?” She asked. David, who was now closer to her just nodded, looking her in the eye. Stella blinked as she looked into his eyes, his taller frame making her catch the candle lights flickering in his eyes.

She then tilts her head with a small and curious smile, amused. “So what’s in it?” She asked, softly jutting her head to the drink. David blinks from their small staring trance, looking down at the drink and sailing the skinny black stew lightly, the ice shifting against the glass. “Dark rum, blackcurrant liqueur, a little vanilla, and just enough mezcal to keep it interesting.” He leans slightly toward her, his voice dropping just enough. “Not too sweet. Not too bitter. Just…balanced.” He said, looking her back in the eye.

Stella watches him for a moment, her own smirk forming. “Profound taste, monsieur.” She said, giving the man a small clap. David’s brow twitched at the familiar word he’s been called all night, causing his eyes to glance up at the bartender, who was now gone and replaced by a woman. His eyes furrowed slightly at the disappearing act the ginger man kept pulling, but didn’t dwell on it due to the fact that he was speaking to someone. “You speak French?” He asked, looking back down at Stella, noticing her perfect accent when she said the word.

“No, not if you want to count the required class I took in college.” She said with a small smile, this one far more genuine and amused as she watched David laugh a little her her. “But fancy people like you usually love it when someone else pulls out another language. It’s good for business.” She said with a small shrug.

“Well, no business on my side, because I am far from fancy.” He said before bringing his glass up to take another sip. Stella arched a perfectly shaped brow at him, causing him to shrug a little. “I try.” He added, causing the woman to smile with a nod, now agreeing with him.

He waited a beat before speaking, watching as she never once sipped from her own drink, just slinking the beverage around as its ice melted in the ball round glass. “That was… unreal.” He said softly, causing her to look back up at him. She blinked with a glint of confusion. “Your performance.” He stated. “It was really good.”

Her smile turned soft as looked at him, but he could see something unreadable. “Thank you.” She said softly.

David leaned against the counter, tilting his glass slightly. “Most people hear a song. And even though those are basic classics, I felt those. It was like hearing it for the first time all over again.” He explained before taking another sip of the drink that was starting to make him buzz some.

His compliment made her smirk over at him. “Ah, are you a musician?” She asked.

“Something like that.” He shrugged as he swirled the dark liquid in his glass. “You’ve got crazy control. The way you flipped those transitions—seamless. And your band? Tight as hell. You got them playing behind you like it’s second nature.” He began again. And now, Stella looked at him. Really looked at him.

Most people gave her the same rehearsed compliments—“Your voice is amazing,” or “You’re so talented.” But him��� he paid attention. He listened.

She finally took a sip of her drink, mainly out of pure nerves of being under his intense gaze and heavy compliments, her eyes lingering on him for a moment longer. “Sounds like you know your stuff.”

David chuckled. “Gotta know what you’re talking about when you’re in the game.”

That piqued her interest. “So you are a musician.”

He smirked but didn’t answer right away. Instead, he raised his glass in a small toast. “To real music.”

Stella watched him for another second before clinking her glass against his. “To real music.”And just like that, the air between them shifted. It had already been thick, humming with something unspoken, but now? It was stronger. More certain.

Neither of them wanted the moment to end.

But it had to.

David glanced over his shoulder toward the table where Margaret was still waiting, Pierre now missing as well, which was understandable since he was the manager. With a slow exhale, he straightened up, setting his glass down on the bar.

“I should probably get going.” He said, though he didn’t move right away and his voice didn’t sound too convincing to either of them. Stella blinked out of the trance the handsome man had put her in, nodding at his words but there was something reluctant in the way she did it. “Yeah.” She said softly, just now realizing that his close proximity had her entrenched within his dark amber and smoked vanilla scent.

Neither of them moved.

For a moment, it felt like the whole lounge had quieted, as if the world had carved out a small space just for them, just for this moment as they started at one another, trying to end the night.

Finally, David forced himself to step back. “Guess I’ll see you around, Stella.”

She blinked, realizing then—she didn’t know his name. “Guess so.” She said softly. And before she could ask, he had already turned, disappearing into the dim light of the lounge.

And as he walked back toward his table, the strangest thing hit him. Margaret was still waiting. The woman he was in a situation-ship with, the woman he had come here with.

And yet… he couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty of the time he waisted with another woman.

Not at all.

@gwenda-fav @neighbourscat @saturnville @nayaesworld @planetblaque @becauseimswagman1 @theclownmimi @vile-harlot @notapradagurl7 @saltburnsworld @imsohappyilovekpop @jazzycool30

@kaylaahisthebestest- @mccteez @officialthrad @irishmanwhore

[radioactive-earthshine]

Young Justice (1998) #1000000

I love how we don't really know much about any of the 1000000 crew but somehow, someway, for some reason Superboy of the 853rd century is a clone of Kon (or we assume so) and Cadmus is still running.

Anyway, have you seen him? Now you have! He is everything to me.

[just-null]

there wasn't a slice of life moment with these idiots so i took matters into my own hands... this is my modern au (kimetsu gakuen adjacent?) hence their designs.

[captions i was too lazy to add under the cut]

[spacedace]

Had some more random ideas for the Accidentally God Queen of Clones Elle and her Amnesiac Knight Champion Kon AU (which really is a prompt a swear, ignore all the details/too many ideas I don't know enough about DC to be able to write this, so I'd anyone sees anything they like in any of this go wild ❤️)

- Tim doesn't take his mask off while in Elle's lair so Kon doesn't put together the fact that Tim is the mystery boy he kinda remembers. Leading to Kon saying that he hopes to one day find the boy he was in love with while Tim is trying to help him get his memories back, which then has Tim spiraling that Kon had a secret boyfriend that he never told Tim about before going missing.

- Elle and the rest of the Clone Club realizing immediately that Tim has to be The Guy and deciding to run with this chance for chaos and matchmaking. They lie about being able to send Tim back immediately and that he's gonna have to stay for awhile, but hey he can room with Kon! Ignore the fact that there are hundreds of rooms in this place, Kon has a big bed and is great at snuggles!

- When Kon became Elle's Knight, he started getting trained by Fright Knight & Pandora. He gets really good at fighting with just about every weapon (baring firearms) imaginable as a result.

- Fright Knight also insisted on teaching Kon all the other stuff outside of fighting a knight must know including the code of chivalry and the "Seven Points of Agilities" which sounded fine to Kon (learning how to ride horses/Night Mares and how to joust were both cool & expected) up until he was learning how to waltz with the giant ghost of fear as his partner. And don't get him started on having to both be able to recite and write love poetry (Elle, at least had fun, though that really came from laughing at his expense).

- He has tattoos now, some sentimental or just because he likes them, but he also has an ornate sword going down his back, and a shield split across both firearms that appears whole when he holds them together. The sword and shield are actually his (magical/ghost made) weapons that disappear from his skin when he summons them and return when he's done with them.

- Baddass and beautiful ornate (but practical and very comfortable!) Knight armor! It has filigree! And a cape!

- Instead of his sword sending people to the Nightmare Dimension, instead his shield can reflect attacks back at people (it's made to be used for ectoplasm based attacks, but can be used to deflect lazers).

- When Kon surrenders to the Justice Leage, he is wearing his armor, though sans helmet (which Pandora & Fright Knight are gonna kill him for later, helmets being a key features in the whole not dying portion of fighting has been something they've been yelling at him about for ages) and seeing Kon in ethereal knightly armor makes Tim bluescreen for a bit because damn.

- Kon falling in love with Tim and feeling conflicted because his mystery boy is out there somewhere, while Tim is just agonizing over the fact that Kon never told him about mystery boy and oh god did Kon not trust him with that?

- Elle gets Fright Knight in on the match making by telling him it'd be a good way for Kon to practice chivalry. Fright Knight takes this as an opportunity to make Kon recite his bad poetry (written about Tim both in terms of Kon writing about mystery boy and writing about Red Robin). It's truly awful. Tim loves it.

[jessicas-pi]

hear me out on this ok. ROTS AU where Anakin still turns to the dark side but that's Palpatine's problem.

So, Palpatine decides last minute that ehhhh maybe dooku could come in handy later and he doesn't encourage Anakin to kill him, and Dooku gets arrested and imprisoned in the Jedi Temple awaiting trial. (Also he didn't get his hands cut off because of uhh plot reasons?)

Fast forward.

Palpatine is encouraging Anakin towards the Dark side, tells him about Plagueis the Wise, etc. etc. But see, the thing is, Anakin is at the end of his tether, probably hasn't slept more than three hours over the past week, and has no remaining impulse control or inhibitions, and upon hearing that the Dark Side can save people from death, his first thought is, "wait a sec, we've got a Sith Lord in-house at the moment!" and he sprints out of the space opera and books it back to the temple.

Now, Dooku has been calmly waiting in Temple custody, confident that Darth Sidious will arrange his escape. But THEN Anakin barges into the cell like OMG THE CHANCELLOR TOLD ME THE SITH KNOW HOW TO KEEP PEOPLE FROM DYING AND I'M HAVING DREAMS ABOUT SOMEONE DYING AND I NEED YOUR HELP TO SAVE THEM

At which point, Dooku realizes Palpatine's plan. He's going to tempt Skywalker to the Dark side and REPLACE DOOKU. this is totally uncool.

So he's like "...who are you dreaming about, exactly?"

Anakin freezes. He can't admit it's Padme because their relationship is top-secret and he can't admit how important she is to him so he tries to think of a good fib and goes "uhhhh OBI-WAN! Obi-Wan, it's Obi-Wan, I'm dreaming about Obi-Wan dying-" and he just throws himself into the drama because now he IS imagining obi-wan dying because Obi-Wan is fighting grievous at the moment and he MIGHT ACTUALLY DIE and that's in addition to Padme dying and he's totally spiraling at this point- "pleasepleaseplease you gotta help me he's like the only father i've ever known I don't know what i'll do without obi-wan I have to save him YOU GOTTA TELL ME WHAT TO DO I'LL DO ANYTHING--"

Dooku begins to smile.

(Would stealing Skywalker out from under his Master's nose be petty? Oh, yeah.)

(But it would also be very, very satisfying.)

---

Obi-Wan calls in to a council meeting to report his defeat of Grievous, but before he can say so, Mace announces that Dooku has escaped and the Sith Master has been killed.

Silence falls between the eleven councilmembers (eleven, not twelve, because their newest one is conspicuously absent. Obi-Wan wonders just what Anakin's up to now. Honestly, that boy will be the death of him.)

Obi-Wan clears his throat.

"...indeed," he says, trying to handle the shocking news with composure. "Well... at least we're down to one Sith, now."

Another awkward pause.

"Yeah, about that--" Mace begins.

[theaterchemy2]

Gavv, Faith, and Trust

A nice detail I noticed from today’s episode of Gavv.

Once Shouma and Hanto talk things out, they start calling each other by their given names while transformed. Before, they would only refer to each other as “Gavv” and “Valen” respectively, implying there was some kind of unconscious mistrust between them, even when their identities were revealed (see Christmas episode). It’s nice to see actual communication in a tokusatsu (cough Inoue cough). Though Shouma was still keeping secrets, to be fair.

And I doubt Hanto’s hatred of Granutes would be that easy to break, so it’d make sense he’d still call Lakia “Vram” going forwards. It reminds me of Gou’s whole beef with Chase back in Drive. At least he’s starting to see that the conflict isn’t a matter of “us vs them” anymore.

An underlying theme of Reiwa Rider is trust: who can you put your trust in, who you should mistrust, how trust can be broken and rebuilt.

Aruto and Fuwa trust Yua to come to her senses and escape from Gai’s grasp, despite her betraying them. Fuwa learns to trust in Humagears despite the memories that were written into his brain.

Touma’s trust with the Sword of Logos is tested when he’s branded a traitor, and he slowly gains the trust of the rest of the swordsmen over the course of the series. Rintaro learns to not blindly trust authority figures and to believe in his friends.

With Revice, Daiji has no faith in himself after Ikki becomes a Rider, leading to Kagerou coming out. And when Kagerou is erased, Daiji can’t even trust himself because he’s imbalanced, leading to him to try and sacrifice himself to Giff. Hana and Tamaki are betrayed by the Deadmans’ cult, and they slowly learn to trust themselves, the Igarashis, and each other as friends, not as master and subordinate.

Geats is chock full of trust and betrayal. Michinaga on principle doesn’t trust anyone because he thinks everyone’s selfish desires outweigh that trust (or at least, that’s how it would be before his character was retconned to be an “anti-hero”). Keiwa and Neon, as new participants of the DPG, have to learn that blind trust is an obstacle when plunged into a battle royale. And Ace himself pushes the concept of where trust can be placed. Lying is as easy as breathing for him. After all, can you trust the words he says?

Houtaro is established to absolutely believe and trust his friends no matter what, and the story shows the gradual trust he earns back from them, especially with Rinne, who has absolute confidence in him and herself (mostly) by the end of the series, and Spanner, who’s jackass attitude and pride make him feel he’s entitled to respect, already above earning the trust of his underclassmen until it’s too late (RIP Lachesis you were the best).

Side note, it was also nice to see that Sachika immediately believed that Shouma and Dark Shouma were completely separate to begin with. She believes in her employee with 100% faith.

[cluescorner]

Long Post about Savage Opress because I am Normal

Savage Opress, you are everything.

You are at your strongest when you are fighting to protect the people you love. You had to participate in a battle royale and subjected yourself to a fate worse than death in order to protect your brother. You were forced to kill the brother you fought so hard to protect, your last words to him as he begged for his life were 'You make (me) weak'.

You are Frankenstein's monster, a kinslayer. You just have to live with that. Your mistress isn't giving you a choice in the matter.

You were placed under the control of a cruel master/mistress twice in the span of like a week. You were forced to betray your master and (under your mistress's orders) you killed two jedi, making you an enemy of the two most powerful entities in the galaxy. You made these enemies against your own will. You were lightning spammed and abused to the point that you were able to break free of your mistress's control.

You are then attacked by these two random jedi you have never met. They seem intent on bringing you in. They stand besides each other and fight to protect each other. You are reminded of how you did the same for your own brother. You killed that brother.

You run to the only home you've ever known, the same home that treated you as lesser-than and transformed you into what you are now. Your home is destroyed, all of your sisters are dead. You are upset by this. They were the cause of your suffering, but they were still kin.

You are told that you have a remaining brother, one who can make you strong enough to protect yourself. You decide to travel across the galaxy to find him. You killed your last brother, you will do anything for this one.

You seem to create trouble everywhere you are now. You are now incapable of solving problems without violence, so violence is what you become. You become hatred. You had love once, but everything that you loved is dead. Except for your remaining brother. You do whatever you must to find him.

You find your brother. Your brother is delirious and half-dead, but he is your brother and you found him. You can fix this. Your brother sees you too, or at least he sometimes does. You are a reflection of him, of what he was meant to be. You are strong and powerful. Your brother is not anymore, but he will be soon.

Your mother, the same woman who took you and warped you into a monster (that is what everybody calls you now), fixes your brother. Your brother grabs your face and twists it, painfully examining your every pore. You don't begrudge him this. You have done the same to it. Your face isn't yours, but it is the only face you have.

Your brother screams for vengeance against Kenobi, he must have revenge. You must stand by your brother, he is all that is left. You embark on a quest of vengeance against a man you only briefly met.

You become everything your brother needs you to be. You are his protector, his sword, his second-in-command. You have love again and you will do anything to keep it this time.

Your brother is a terrible person. Your brother will massacre a village for the sake of getting Kenobi's attention. Your living brother is nothing like the one you killed. You aren't sure this is a good thing.

Your brother lures Kenobi to the village and you both capture him. Your mistress shows up and immediately sets about belittling you. You are the monster she and your mother created. You are not her thrall anymore, you can fight her now. You do exactly that.

Your mistress and Kenobi retreat, your brother chooses to bide his time. You will wait with him.

Your brother and you infiltrate a ship, finding a fortune of credits. You are happy with this, you have never seen this much money in your life. Your brother's only fortune is the downfall of Kenobi.

Your brother calls you apprentice, decides that is what your relationship is now. You don't see the need for dominance, you are brothers after all. Your brother disagrees and you will subject yourself to this for your brother's sake. You are a reflection of him, of all his past flaws. You are devoted to those you love and able to feel things other than vindictive glee or hatred. Your brother is not anymore, he might never be again.

You think your brother is incapable of love. You love him all the same.

You and your brother next run into Kenobi with another Jedi Master. You do not know her name nor anything about her. You kill her, goring her with your (far larger than they should be) horns and running her through with your lightsaber. Your master is not forcing your hand this time, you can finally choose to make an enemy of the Jedi. You would have been their enemy either way, but the false choice is comforting regardless.

You and your brother corner Kenobi. You think for a moment that you have gotten the upper-hand, then Kenobi cuts your arm off. Your body leaks green magic. Your mother's magic still holds power over you even after everything. You wish it didn't.

Your brother shoves Kenobi away from you and decides to retreat. You aren't sure if this is a sign of affection towards you or if this is a strategic move. Your brother speaks as if it's the latter. You see no reason to believe otherwise.

You manage to escape, but are left adrift in space. You are freezing and slowly running out of oxygen. Your home was warm and full of breatheable air. You are alone with only a brother who calls you 'apprentice' for company. Your home was filled with brothers who called you by your name or by 'brother'. You are alive. Your home and brothers are dead.

You next wake up in an unfamiliar place. You smash all the equipment around you. You are now incapable of solving problems without violence, so violence is what you have become. Your brother informs you that his plans have changed, and now you two will be working with Deathwatch. You have no idea what Deathwatch is or who your brother just made a deal with. You will follow him regardless.

You stand up and hit your head on the lamp above you. You were supposed to be shorter than you are now. Your body is wrong. You look in the mirror and you are not yourself. Your body isn't yours, but it is the only body you have.

Your brother takes over Mandalore. You watch as your brother marches Kenobi into the throne room and prepares to execute the Duchess of this planet.

Kenobi offers sympathy. Kenobi recognizes that your brother never had a choice in joining the dark side. Kenobi had gone to your village and seen what it is like for the nightbrothers. Kenobi, despite everything, is trying to be kind.

You hear your story in Kenobi's words. You never had a choice in any of this. You never stood a chance. Your body isn't yours, your mind has been warped and twisted into serving the goals of another. You only wanted to protect your brother.

Your brother kills the love of Kenobi's life. Your brother has stripped himself and you of any possible chance to take the olive branch Kenobi was extending. You ask if you should kill Kenobi now. You know that stewing in grief and guilt can be a terrible fate. Your brother decides to keep him imprisoned. Your brother is counting on the Kenobi stewing in his grief and guilt. Your brother wants to drag out his suffering for as long as possible.

Your brother is in charge for less than a rotation. Your brother panics and bows before a withered old man, calling him 'master'. Your brother lies and fawns to his master. Your brother's master does not care.

You have never met this man before. You have no reason to fight him. Your brother is terrified of him. Your brother grovels before nobody, but he bows before this man. You don't have to do this.

Your brother needs you. You draw your weapon.

You manage to get a hit in on your brother's master. You are one of very few in the galaxy who can say that. You are at your strongest when you are fighting to protect the people you love.

You are stabbed in both your hearts. Your efforts to protect your brother, your pain and suffering, your love and affection, you, Savage Opress, you don't matter. You didn't know it, but you were fighting the most powerful being in the galaxy.

You never had a choice. You never stood a chance.

You die thinking you were unworthy of your brother. Your brother never said or did anything to make you think otherwise. You die calling yourself apprentice, that is the relationship your brother wanted. Your brother holds your hand as you die, it is trembling. You aren't sure if it is from grief or hatred. You decide it must be the latter. Your brother is only capable of hatred.

You knew your brother was incapable of love. You loved him all the same.

You don't know that you might have been the only thing your brother cared about besides his vengeance. You don't know that when you are unconcious he calls you by your name, he calls you brother. You don't know that he nearly killed the Death Watch soldiers, but stopped when they threatened you. You couldn't know. Your brother never told you.

You don't know that he uses his grief as fuel for his duel with Sidious. You don't know that he switches his ire away from Kenobi and decides that his former master is a more pressing target of his hatred You don't know that he spends the rest of his days trying to find a new apprentice to fill the hole you left and that it never works. You will never know. You are dead.

You died realizing you were nothing like your brother. You never were. Your body shrinks down, you finally look like yourself again. You can't be happy about this. You can't take relief in the fact that all the magic which ruined your life has been dispelled. You can't feel anything. You are dead.

You are right. You are nothing like Darth Maul. Your brother is motivated by hatred, you are motivated by love. Your brother will die having found peace, you died having found nothing but pain and grief and yet more pain.

You are my favorite magical girl and you have suffered so much more than Jesus.

[just-bendy]

KITTY: Hey Ben, your friends at the front are scaring off my customers. Please take care of that, would you, honey?

BENDY: My friends at the front? I guess other clones are here, eh? Well, it's about time we leave this place anyway, c'mon guys!

GRUMPS: Already? Heheh, well, alright. We're goin' ta that park, right?

BENDY: Yup! Cheesecake Park! It's right down the road, ya can't miss it!

TIPPY: Hey! Wait fer me, guys!

GRUMPS: Let's have a drink some day soon, alright Ben? We got some catchin' up ta do!

BENDY: Oh, definitely! Bye Grumps! Bye Tippy!

GRUMPS: See ya, Ben.

TIPPY: Bye bye, Bendy! See ya later!

BENDY: Huh, that was weird. Am I hungry? I don't feel hungry. Eh, oh well. I still feel fine so I guess it's nothin' ta worry about.

DASH: Sup.

BENDY: Hey... why don't you two follow those other two clones too instead of hangin' around here?

DASH: Alrighty, nice meetin' ya.

[ Grumps, Tippy, Dash, and Bendy clone 65 ( and Bendy clone 4 ) are heading towards Cheesecake Park. ]

[im-smart-i-swear]

very importrant oc diagram

more in depth descriptions of this stuff below ig

omg same trauma - sympathy and respect but also acknowledging youre not the same. propably the most normal out of the three options. you know very intimate stuff about this person but you have never met and its weird. you live your life normally but sometimes you wonder what it would be like to meet him

i will never be as cool - constantly comparing yourself to him to the point a big chunk of your personality still revolves around your connection to him (in ryous case this is mixed with seeing shiro as a sort of idealised perfect father figure despite never having interacted with the guy before)(its really weird and he tries to be secretive abt it but the others knows anyway)(like kiddo they can tell)(youre not subtle at all). he is soooo good and so pure and perfect and you will never live up to that no matter how hard you try. there must be something wrong with you

gender dysphoria - what it says on the tin. you have this guys memories and voice and body and face and it makes you want to scream and cry and kill him and bury his body in the woods so nobody can ever find it

(also to clear things up this diagram and the explanations are written from a point in the timeline before the whole 'stickbug gets mind controlled' thing so the clones havent met shiro yet)(also also obv this is pretty simplified)

[sweetest-honeybee]

Ok this is so weird but I have a theory for how Hels came to be... There was a lightning flash when Wels cloned himself, and Hels owed Evil X a favour, apparently. What if... ya know... Evil X helped Hels get a body?

Had to watch back a few things before I answered this so I got some info straight-

There was lightning, though I think that was Wels’s personal addition editing wise. I think the fact that he was holding blaze rods might’ve had more connection to the fact that it was Helsknight that came of the cloning but Beef was trying something different so who knows

In hels kitchen, Evil X was asking a favor from Helsknight, but as far as I can tell, Helsknight didn’t owe him anything. EX was simply asking for help in his scheme

Regardless, it is interesting. And knowing they ran into each other eventually and knew each other long enough by then that you could consider them friends or even scheming acquaintances where Evil X can actively ask him for help occasionally is also very interesting. So it’s not far off to claim EX has done something for Helsknight before or vice versa

I mean who knows, Beef might’ve been compelled to clone Wels through some strange Evil X influence. But Helsknight does state that Wels having created the clone is what gave him the vessel to come over in the first place, so I dunno 😂

[mybrainproblems]

the thing is i'm hyperaware of the fact that i'm Weird About Andrew Dabb but it comes from a place of me realizing back in fall 2021 that i wanted to identify why exactly i didn't like him and deciding to do a close watch of his spn eps. and when i realized i was enjoying parts of it, i decided to see what i could turn up any of his non-spn work. (this is something i've always tended to do with creatives: tracking down older stuff for a more holistic view of their work.)

i was so stuck on how much i hated some parts of his writing (s7 dabb-loflin is horrendous) and couldn't get past that... then i found out independently that he was showrunning the upcoming netflix resi show (a franchise i both love and have complicated feelings about) which filled me with dread that the guy who co-wrote 07x22 would helm a show with a predominantly black cast -- especially with the ultimate villain, albert wesker, played by a black man (RIP lance reddick, you are dearly missed). i wanted to be optimistic but i was ready to be infuriated and was so nervous that i'd hate something i'd been looking forward to as some camp horror tv.

but then. oh. OH. it was everything i ever wanted from resi and never thought i could have. i could not conceive of a resi like this. a resi where women and poc are treated with empathy and as nuanced characters with interiority. where they are the central characters. the video games have their own issues but the movies are truly egregious when it comes to black characters. so to have a predominantly black cast (and a black female protag, no less!) and have them treated respectfully was amazing. this was a show that had heart and a somewhat diverse writer's room and bts crew (not saying it was perfect) and you could see that difference in how characters were treated and how the plot and direction was handled. (i think having female directors and producers in particular helped a lot.)

for those who have not seen the anderson/jovovich movies: there is always a token black character and they will always die by the halfway mark bc they make stupid decisions. it's non-stop tits and ass shots of jovovich (which feels super weird when the director is her husband). alice (jovovich) is an Action Girl who is frequently subjected to sexualized violence but unfortunately, i love the camp horror of it. it's complicated. the video games have their own issues with the portrayal of women and ada wong being DLC feels really shitty when she's so pivotal. women are largely either helpless or Strong Sexy Action Women.

like i really cannot express just how much 8 episodes of tv so wholly changed my opinion of a writer/showrunner bc it showed such growth. a showrunner is only one piece of the puzzle of a tv show but they are the ones guiding it and the ones who have substantial influence in the hiring and development/direction of the story.

it's like. i don't forgive dabb for 07x22 and the shit he wrote with loflin (or solo, tho he improved a lot without loflin), but to see how resi turned out and to read/watch interviews with him and the bts crew is like. oh, okay. i think this person gets it now. i don't think i can forgive and forget bc s7 makes my blood boil, but i can accept that growth has happened here and that's what we should want from people.

also i'm gonna say that when i look at how i am Weird About Dabb and take a step back, i can see that i'm about as weird about him as some folks are about other writers and actors from spn (and willing to acknowledge his faults). i just chose a weird writer to be Weird about.

sorry but i just have a lot of feelings about resi.

[starchild--27]

as a person with very bad (the worst really) Good Omens brain rot, watching Ahsoka sure is mad experience bc i legit thought i was hallucinating David Tennant's voice the first time Huyang spoke. but no it is actually him. ok bro. keep showing up in my favourite media, it's finE-

[ciaoteamo]

Milk and Water (Pt. I)

pairings: doppelgänger!Milkman x fem!Reader

summary: One of the newest residents’ very first doppelgänger comes in, trying to sway you into to letting them in. Will you..?

pt.II

art credit (twt: loafuu_chii)

warning: 18+ content

“…what’s the story behind your um… ears(?)” You ask the doppelgänger before you. It was a clone of one of your favorite neighbors actually, her name was Maria.

A woman around your age that you became really close friends with over the few months of you working here.

“@&! !$?&” The doppelgänger let out a series of sounds.

“right, so give me one second” You press the bright red button next to the window and the steel blinds shut with a blaring alarm sound.

You call D.D.D. and they clean up their mess per usual. You once again, you were just thankful you didn’t have to work on that side of the glass.

You check your wrist watch, and happily sigh at the fact that you only had one more hour left to work.

“ mmm, someone’s eager to go home i see” A familiar voice speaks up.

“oh, Mr. Francis” You give the man a polite grin. He gave you a sly one in return. You knew it wasn’t him off the bat. Francis was usually shy towards you, making you want to tease him into blushing whenever you saw him.

Well, you suppose you could kill two birds with one stone. Flirt with the doppelgänger of your crush, and have some entertainment.

“how are you pretty girl” He asks, sliding an I.D. and sheet through the slot.

You examine the documents and identification and beam a smile up at him.

“the date on the I.D. is a little expired hun” You declare. He lets out a small chuckle and leans a little toward the glass.

“mmm, been busy with the milk business, love. must’ve slipped my mind to renew it” He replied. His eyes were low but he still held his sly grin. You leaned back in your chair, with a bored look on your face.

“you’re not like my Francis” You huff and tilt your head with a disappointed look.

His grin faltered and he stepped closer. His breathing had quickened a bit and he took off his hat. “who knows, i could be better” He suggests.

Now that his confidence had depleted a little, you were growing bored of him. You checked the time again and you had 45 minutes left.

“well i’ve gotta get you moving now. it was nice to see such a handsome face though, so thank you” You beam and reach for the button

“you don’t want to do this, trust me” He states with a warning tone. This wasn’t unusual, getting threats after realizing they’re doppelgängers, but being that this one was this aware… they must be evolving.

“and why would i trust you?” You ask out of curiosity.

“i mean look at me” He smirks, one arm leaned against the top of the window. His irises turned from their chocolate brown and into an empty pure white.

“hm” You nod and press the button.

“(Y/N)!” He roared with what you assume was his fist banging the glass.

You call D.D.D. and wait for them to clean their mess, again.

The steel blind begins to lift and you sit back in your seat, checking your watch again but noticed the new pink lighting that shone in.

You furrow your eyebrows and look up in horror as you see blood streaks on the window in thick, and dripping amounts. You jump out of your chair and put your back against the wall.

About 5 D.D.D. workers were piled up, bloody and battered in the corner of the room, and there the doppelgänger was.

Staring at you.

His eyes were low, his shirt was torn, revealing his pecs and the start of his abdomen. He was panting with his (surprisingly still) neat hair and an almost psychotic expression.

“oh no…” He starts with a laugh, still breathing heavily.

“what did you do..?” You cover your mouth with your hand.

“it’s what you did. you got me all riled up.”

He looks down for a brief moment and you swear you hear a zip. He holds his tie and the end of his tattered shirt in his mouth and looks up at you with knitted eyebrows.

His breath fogging up the window as he asks you. Looking like a poor starving puppy. “will you let me in now…? I need your help…” He slightly groaned.

“…what. the. fuck.”

[astranauticus]

MAG61-70

'i'll break every bone in your body :|' oh i love daisy's vibe already

when jon said 'looks like we're not done with sinister coffins just yet' i seriously thought he was gonna say 'looks like we're not done with the police' KJDFHKSJHDKJFH

also 'when a precinct finds a vampire they call me to drive them out the forest and set them on fire' i LOVE daisy's vibe

what the fuck is this dynamic between gertrude and mary kaey im losing my mind

'who... is this' 'that's a surprise!' bro

why do all these end guys like the mummy from mag64 feel less like horror stories and more like tragedies. just these really pathetic creatures trying very hard to die :(

as a CS major i dont know how i feel about mag65

mag67 another one that reads more like a tragedy than a horror story :( anyway i think i know enough spoilers to guess why they called out the movie they watched as specifically the prestige (genuinely one of my fav movies of all time) but im just gonna put a pin in that until agnes comes back again in the podcast

was listening to mag69 (one of the arachnophobia ones) halfway while on the bus back to my dorm and a moth flew into the bus. atmospheric 👍

'i should just leave it but i can't... not know' i mean i know what this man's problem is but damn this man has a problem

'deep down both of you know that you don't actually like each other but it's just more effort to not be friends' help why does this perfectly describe me and a guy at my school

[boyheros]

Drawing Maverick in a swimsuit not because it's summer but because he doesn't have a bellybutton and I'm making fun of him. He doesn't even know how to swim